#i tried to use a photo which gives him some manager stance

[antarcticconfessions]

"Convinced in another life Birdie Bowers would’ve been the ultimate stage manager "

[perriewinklenerdie]

Thoughts (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1,7 k

Summary:  OH3 Chapter 2 rewrite + added scene. Claire finds out what’s on Ethan’s mind every time he sees her.

Warnings: None

A/N: What’s that? Ethan and MC are acting like a couple? Did you mean ‘give them more fluff’? I got you, no problem.

Ethan’s focus was forcefully shifted from the paperwork he’s been working on to the two figures that appeared in the doorway to his office. His forehead creased at the sight of his newest patient being wheeled into the room. Not a fraction of a second later, Claire came into his field of vision and, as bizarre as it seemed, her presence alone managed to lessen the irritation the new administration of the hospital evoked in him every single day since they came back to work. Remembering what the deal with their patient was, he schooled his features as much as he could.

“Dr. Herondale, is everything alright?” he found her eyes with his, feeling a wave of warmth flooding him. Claire moved her head slightly, a shift in her stance so miniscule that if he weren’t paying as close attention to her as he did, he wouldn’t have caught it.

“Everything’s okay, I just figured that since we were waiting for Andrew’s M.R.I., we could study his… symptoms a little more.” She walked closer, leaning on the desk. A whisper of a grin made itself at home on her face. “Mind taking part in a little experiment?”

He somehow knew that it would come to this, almost as though he could read her mind now too. Ridiculous as the situation was, he knew saying ‘no’ wasn’t a real option for him – he’s lost the ability to deny her anything a long time ago. With a sigh, he waved his hand for Andrew to begin.

“He’s tense.” The young man started, matter-of-factly. Ethan scoffed.

“I don’t think you need psychic powers to determine that.” He pointed out, leaning back in his seat. Looking at Claire again, he found her already staring at him with a tenacious spark. “… Fine, proceed. But only because I agree that we need to determine what’s going on here.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” She muttered under her breath, grinning cheekily at him. “All right, Andrew, tell me what does Dr. Ramsey think about me?”

With no hesitation, Andrew replied. “You mean besides what he’d be doing with you now if the two of you were alone?”

Ethan’s head snaps towards their patient before he can even think about what he’s doing. “What?”

“Am I right?”

“Ethan?” Claire’s voice betrayed the surprise she was trying to hide with a stoic look on her face. She didn’t have to say anything else, really, because Ethan already knew that she’d tease him endlessly with that knowledge. A flash of heat licked its way up his spine, coloring his neck red. He broke the eye contact, incredibly interested in anything but her all the sudden. There was no running from her, though, since the first thing that his eyes landed upon was a photo of Claire and him from the gala.

It took him a moment to find his voice again, words melting into a mumble.

“… I don’t want to talk about it.”

Andrew, encouraged rather than disheartened by the obvious effect he had on the doctor, continued. “In the slightly more PG realm, he’s about ten times happier since you walked through the door.”

Ethan cracked a helpless smile, feeling himself unable to keep a straight face. He tried to make his voice sound stern, but at this point, not even Ethan himself believed his tough demeanor.

“I would really prefer it if you stopped while I still have some dignity left.”

The young man fell quiet, clearly proud of himself. Meanwhile, Claire turned around towards her partner and leaned closer. Her hair fell over her shoulder, creating a curtain that hid her face from Andrew. Ethan felt locked in place, hypnotized by her charming smile.

“You have something to say about this…?” she trailed off, dropping her voice to a warm mutter. He hesitated, unsure how much freedom he could allow himself, but ultimately, the look she was giving him made him forgo his inhibitions.

“I won’t deny that he’s right.” He began, causing her to grin knowingly. “But he could have figured this out by the way my eyes follow you. Or my body language, for that matter.” He recalled all the times in which his body gravitated towards hers during the initial consult, their shoulders pressing together.

“I don’t know about it, Dr. Ramsey.” Leaning into him even further, she whispered sultrily. “That thing about throwing me on the desk… not that it would be the first time…” her gaze fell to his lips, the corners of her own inching upwards. Ethan’s breath caught in his throat, his body moving towards her slightly. Before he could reach her, she straightened her posture and turned back around to her previous position. “That was strangely familiar. Not to mention, accurate.”

Andrew cleared his throat, bringing the attention of both his doctors back to him. The older diagnostician blushed an even deeper red color.

“Be that as it may, it would help to test it further with more concrete questions. Mr. Polowsky tell me…” Ethan wondered what question he should ask, deciding upon something that there was no way he could figure out simply by observing him. “My favorite place to vacation.”

This time, the young man hesitated, taking a moment to think before answering. “New York?”

“Try ‘no place at all’.” Claire chimed in, looking over her shoulder to gauge Ethan’s reaction. “Dr. Ramsey here is a workaholic.”

“Very funny, Claire. Try again, Mr. Polowsky.”

“Maybe Las Vegas?”

Ethan laughed, shaking his head in disagreement for the second time. He felt Claire’s eyes on him, noticing a curious glint when he looked into them. They kept the contact long after Andrew admitted that he didn’t know the answer.

“Weird. You were getting perfect reads with everyone else.”

“This ability clearly has its limits. It might help narrow down the possible causes.” Ethan nodded in agreement, observing their patient closely.

“So what is your favorite vacation spot?” Andrew questioned, curious about where the world-renowned diagnostician chose to relax.

“Nice try. I may not use Pictagram much…” Ethan laughed, sending a meaningful look Claire’s way, her latest photo never too far from his thoughts. “But I know better than to give away my best kept secret and invite the crowds in.”

He observed them as they left for Andrew’s M.R.I., perplexed by the whole situation. Claire looked back at him and once she was sure she had his attention, she blew him a kiss, grinning smugly at the charged look he gave her.

~

Some time later, he found her hunched over the table in his office, deep into the article displayed on her laptop. Leaning against the side of the table, he looked into her research.

“Any progress?”

“Nothing new. M.R.I. didn’t show any significant changes, blood tests came back with no indications towards any probable causes.” Her shoulders fell in disappointment. “We’re back to square one. Flu… and psychic abilities.” Claire fell deeper into her seat, sighing deeply. “And those powers are getting creepy. You saw it yourself.”

“I can certainly agree that his accuracy is uncanny, not something you’d usually expect from cold reading. But it’s not enough to convince me that he has magical powers.” Straightening his back, he hummed under his breath. “He wasn’t 100% right.”

“He was right about you, though.” Claire smiled suspiciously at him. “Mostly. I still want to know what’s that heavily guarded holiday destination of yours.”

Ethan’s hand moved to her neck, trailing upwards until he reached her pulse point, tracing the delicate skin with the tip of his finger.

“If I tell you now, there won’t be an element of surprise when I take you there.”

Her eyes fluttered close for a moment, losing her focus upon the feeling of his skin against hers. She was breathless when she spoke again, and he was sure he had her distracted. How wrong he was.

“Are you going to be thinking about me when we’re there the way you think about me when we’re at work?”

A low groan escaped him, a hint of a blush returning to his face. “You’re not gonna let me live this down, huh.”

Claire scrunched her nose adorably, the only response he needed, then turned back to her research. Ethan moved to stand behind her, squeezing her shoulders from time to time as they brainstormed for possible causes of their patient’s special powers.

~

His eyes found her in the evening after they diagnosed Andrew, just as she was about to leave. The atrium was strangely quiet, providing a false sense of calmness. His feet carried him towards her on their own.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He smiled warmly, reaching her side in a few strides. Claire raised an eyebrow at him, the corners of her lips rising smugly.

“Why? Were you hoping to see me?”

“Oh, definitely.” They were now face to face, eyes locked in a heated gaze. His fingers followed the hem of her jacket, pulling her closer to him by the lapel. “Do you have any plans for the evening?”

She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, humming softly. “I was originally gonna go home and drown myself in Netflix, but I suppose I could be convinced otherwise.”

“I see.” He nodded, stroking the line of her cheekbone with his knuckles. His voice dropped to a deep grumble, sending a thrilling shiver through her. “Can I make you dinner?”

Claire breathed out slowly. “Yeah.” Her shoulders fell as the tension accumulated throughout the whole day of work flew out of her. “I’d love that.”

Ethan threw his arm over her shoulder, tangling their fingers together and squeezing tenderly. He pressed a long kiss to her forehead, smiling once again – he’s been doing that a lot lately.

Before they reached the train station that would take them to his apartment, she saw an opening for one more tease.

“Do you want another blueberry smoothie in the morning?”

Notes

My two idiots are basically married. That’s all I see. 

[maplecornia]

chapter 30

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.85K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: another yoongles focus lol i just figured out that i really don't have much to say in these things anymore, i might save the a/n's for the end next time

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne | @rae-bear | @mangminnie | @pixiekooo | @canarystwin | @cana

This is not exactly how you expected to meet Min Yoongi.

His hand tightens around your wrist as he drags you through the halls of BigHit, and you silently pray that your small legs can keep up.

Looking up at him, you can't help but be a bit confused.

Why is he so angry anyway?

You didn't do anything to him.

Certainly nothing worth yanking your arms off.

Wincing as he turns a corner, your eyes widen as he opens a door and practically shoves you inside a dark room. You stumble a bit, an inner instinct inside of you resurfacing. You find yourself frantically looking for any form of exit, any form of a way out. When you find none, you swallow hard, feeling your hands palpitate with cold sweat and your breathing run short. Turning briskly to where Yoongi stands in front of the door, you step forward, ready to push past him and bolt before you’re hurt, but the look in his eyes stops you.

They’re soft, confused and slightly caught off guard. You wonder if the fear that prickles off of your skin is as evident to him as it is to you. Taking a deep breath, you swallow hard, trying hard not to show your discomfort. Inwardly, you chastise yourself for even considering that Min Yoongi would have any malicious intent towards you, but you can't help it when put into a situation like this...

Dark room.

Blocked exits.

No way of escape.

You can't help but be on your guard.

A bit confused, but choosing not to question it, Yoongi gestures towards a clothing rack to the left. Blinking, you turn towards it, begging yourself to relax. When he advances into the room, however, you flinch and frantically back up, straight into a tray of forgotten makeup and hair products.

He immediately stops at the reaction, and you downcast your eyes shamefully praying he doesn’t realize what you’ve tried so hard to cover up. However, as he takes in your frightened eyes, tense stance, and the shallow breath, he knows that somehow he has triggered a memory.

From the looks of it, even a form of trauma.

Definitely not what I expected.

Taking a deep breath, he turns on the light before turning to you with his hands up in a form of surrender. Almost a peace treaty. "Relax, I'm just trying to get a shirt for you."

You swallow hard, already feeling a bit better with the light on. Chuckling nervously, you straighten and nod, running your hand through your hair.

"O-of course you were. What else would you be doing?" you try to swallow the sudden rise of bile in your throat as you rub your arms violently to ease the chill your memories have brought you.

Yeah.

What else indeed.

Confused, but choosing to leave matters out of his hand alone, Yoongi returns to his task and rummages through the clothes dangling on the coat rack. Once he's found his prize, he turns to you and throws it towards you. Your eyes widening, you hardly catch it before he's already heading out of the door.

"Shirt." He explains bluntly, and you nod, a bit surprised that he used English. You smile inwardly at the sentiment, however. The small taste of home certainly helped you to regain your composure. You give a weak smile and tighten your grip around the shirt, hoping that it would be a better outlet to release the emotions bottled inside.

"Thank you." You murmur, and he nods before turning to leave.

He almost makes it out the door, but when he remembers something, he turns back to you.

"Do you know the way back?"

"Back...?" you mutter, a bit confused, and he rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to smile.

Looks like she's back to normal.

"To the dressing room, you're supposed to help us with the photo shoot today." Your eyes widen at his explanation, and you faintly remember your soiled schedule. Cursing under your breath, you wish you had at least taken a picture of the thing before heading to perform your duties. Maybe then you'd have a backup.

Well, guess that's a good thing to remember next time.

Realizing Yoongi is still waiting for a reply, you snap out of your reverie and smile.

"Oh, yes. I think I can manage." He nods before turning around and finally leaving you alone, the door closing with a few words of encouragement.

"Hurry up."

With that, the door is shut firmly behind him and you let out a small breath.

Well, no need to be so cold.

But then again, it was kind of him to offer you a shirt and not to pry when you had that slight panic attack. If you can even call it that. Sighing, you turn to the mirror and place your hands on the desk, staring deep into your hollow eyes.

It wasn't always this way.

There was a time when these eyes sparkled with life. When they were filled with joy and happiness, not a care in the world. Where you could smile without a weight on your heart dragging you down. Where you could live without feeling guilty of it.

Why do you feel guilty?

He deserved what he got.

He deserved to die for what he did to you.

“But still...he was my father.”

Biting your bottom lip, you hardly notice it as your teeth pierce through your skin and blood begins to trickle down your chin. Only when the taste of iron on your tongue pierces through do you realize. Flinching, you shakily wipe the blood away and lick your bottom lip as though that will erase the pain bound tightly to your heart.

No, nothing can erase this.

I don't think anything ever will.

Swallowing hard, you choose to forget that which is best not to be pondered over. Turning the shirt Yoongi found for you, you slowly unbutton your own, pulling it out of the plaid skirt you've garnered today. You're thankful Yoongi has managed to find you a similar shirt to the one you brought in today. A white button-up that reminds you of the 19th century. Something a high-class man would wear to a gala per se. You smirk at the ruffles at the end of your sleeves and try to avoid your reflection in the mirror as you pull it on over your bra.

The only thing you would see would be another daily dose of self-deprecation and hatred.

You'd rather stop before it started.

Once the shirt is buttoned and tucked safely in your skirt, a few small touches added by you in order to fit your look, you look at your reflection and smile faintly. For a man's shirt, it fits your frame quite snugly. You wonder who exactly it belongs to, but figure you could just ask Yoongi later.

This should do nicely.

Smiling weakly in satisfaction, you turn to the door and open it.

You weren't expecting to see a very fatigued Yoongi leaning against the wall right next to the entrance. So you'd say your reaction was justified.

He would probably think otherwise.

At your shriek, he jumps halfway out of the air before turning to you in surprise.

"What the hell was that?!" He cries, and your eyes widen in ignorance.

"Me?! What about you? I thought you were going back to the dressing room!"

"Well, I--" he breaks off, finding nothing to say, and you raise an eyebrow in confusion. Swallowing hard, he turns his face away from you. "You were taking too long."

Rolling your eyes, you scoff.

Sorry, but I didn't think I was on a time clock.

"Besides, I didn't trust you to get there on your own." He explains, turning back to you with a scowl. You narrow your eyes at him yourself before noticing the slight rosy hue to his cheeks.

Is he...embarrassed?

Clearing his throat, he shakes his head before brushing past you and heading back the way you came.

"Let's go."

You stand there in stunned silence before turning to his retreating figure. Smirking a bit to yourself, you scoff in disbelief before jogging to catch up to him. You want to thank him for his help, but as the two of you head back, you find it hard to start a conversation with him.

Biting the inside of your cheek you turn to him, trying to study his expression.

He definitely has some sort of hidden animosity towards you even though the two of you have never met before now. However, he doesn't seem to hate you. He's been kind to you so far. In his own...weird way. But if he doesn't hate you then what's the reason for his behavior? Sometimes he seems perfectly fine, and then others he seems to be incredibly angry by your presence.

Then again...your presence is sort of foreign to him.

Maybe he just needs time warming up?

"She's hardly qualified."

Or maybe...

He knows you don't belong here.

"Do you need something?"

Jolting back to reality, you blink and find Yoongi to be regarding you with a perplexed gaze. Quickly, you snatch your eyes away and laugh nervously. You hadn't realized you were gawking at him this whole time.

"No, it's nothing..."

His expression changes as soon as you look away, darkens into something nearly unrecognizable. Turning away, he swallows hard, as though holding himself back. You, however, find this as a perfect outlet to start a conversation.

"I was just...wondering...W-why are you doing the shoot here?"

He shrugs, trying to avoid your gaze as much as possible.

"It's more convenient this way. Does the shirt fit?"

"Hm? Oh! Uhm, yes it does. Thank you."

He nods in response.

"Good, that was Enhypen's dressing room. They hardly use it other than the times they visit our company for shoots and such. Sunoo has a smaller build than most in our company so I thought it'd work best for you." He examines the shirt on you, and you can't help but blush, half wondering if you should cover-up. "Hm. It's tight in some areas but definitely better than wearing something like Jimin's."

You blush profusely at the comment and cross your arms around your chest. You have half a mind to smack him right then and there, but as a group of employees pass by you, you're forced to hold back. He smirks in satisfaction at your reaction, and you scowl.

"I see...thank you." You mutter between gritted teeth. He doesn't respond, just continues to smile that smug smile. Turning the corner, you find yourself in another realm of silence, but this time you don't really have the urge to talk to him.

He on the other hand...

"Has BangPD talked to you yet?"

Your ears perk at that and you turn to him, shocked.

How did he...

"I'm sorry?"

"About being a trainee." He replies with that debonair air about him. Swallowing hard, it takes you a while to respond.

“How did you know?” He gives a look at the ambiguous answer, but you meet it as an equally indignant one. You feel as though you have a right to know, and you won’t answer him so easily about something you weren’t aware he even knew about. Sighing when it’s clear you won’t give in as easily as he thought, he answers you.

“BangPD met with us to discuss your training.”

“‘Us?’ You mean...”

“Yes, BTS. He said as shareholders of the company, it was only right for us to know he was considering training you. He wanted our opinion.”

In short, they were deciding your life before you even had a chance to decide.

You don’t know why, but the thought puts a sick feeling in your stomach. The fact that a group of people were discussing whether or not to trust you, to accept you without even half of them getting a chance to know you or your abilities...Who gave them the right to decide that? Who gave them the right to take control of your future?

And what if you say yes? Do they even want you to succeed? What if they do? What if saying no let down their expectations? Why weren’t you told about this? Why weren’t you a part of the conversation?

Was it really too much of a risk?

"So?" He prompts before pausing in front of an elevator door and pressing the up button to the dressing room. "What did you say?"

You give him a look, hoping that will let him know that you don't want to talk about this anymore, but he doesn't seem to care. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly and you find that even if you wanted to, you wouldn't know what to say.

Does he think that this is an easy decision? There are things to consider, your future to think about, people who could be affected...

But really, what is there to consider?

You don't have anything to lose, not really.

And this is your dream.

So why are you hesitating?

You know why.

At the soft ding of the elevator arriving, you break eye contact and turn as the doors open. Stepping inside, you watch the doors slide shut before answering him.

"He told me to think about it."

Yoongi scoffs at the answer, biting the inside of his cheek in annoyance. He knew it'd be like this.

"What's there to think about?" At the question, you flinch but refuse to meet his eyes. "It's a yes or no question."

You bite your lip furiously, at war with yourself.

It's not like he's wrong but...

Yoongi glances at her from the corner of his eye and wonders what exactly everyone sees in her. He wonders what makes her so special. From what he's seen, she's incredibly ordinary. Sure she has a beautiful voice, her face is nice, but she can stand to lose a few pounds especially if she wants to be an idol.

Does she even want to be a performer?

There are so many others who have tried their whole life just to be considered for what they're offering here, and what?

It's too hard of a decision?

Animosity growing like a drug, he scoffs turning away.

"I was against it, you know." You turn to him, a bit confused at the statement. He sighs before continuing, a bit piqued at your behavior. "Your contract. I didn't want you to be considered as a trainee."

You should feel surprised. You should feel wronged, angry. But you feel none of those things. Instead, you understand him.

Smiling a bit bitterly, you turn back to the metal doors.

"I see." You reply, and he turns to you in confusion.

"You're not mad?" You shrug before turning to him.

"Why would I be?" He scoffs at the reply.

"Most would feel offended."

"Well, I'm not. In fact, I'm grateful."

Surprised, he turns to you. "Why?"

"At least you didn't lie or cover it up." You explain matter of factly and he shakes his head at you in disbelief as the elevator dings, announcing your arrival.

"It would've been better if I had." He mutters half to himself as the two of you depart, bowing politely to a few employees waiting to board the elevator. You shrug at the statement before glancing his way.

"Well, maybe I don't like people who beat around the bush."

He can't help but feel a bit stunned as he watches you walk a few steps ahead of him. He can't help but feel that he'll always be a few steps behind you. Shaking the feeling away, he peers your way.

"Are you scared?"

"Of what?"

"Debuting."

You swallow hard, not sure how to answer. Biting your bottom lip in concentration you consider the question.

Are you scared to debut?

"Yes."

Who wouldn't be after all? It's scary not knowing if the public will view you positively or immediately cast you aside. It's scary not knowing whether or not your dream will be achieved, whether or not you'll make it.

"Is that why you're hesitating?"

Spying the dressing room a few feet away, you shake your head at his question before replying.

"No."

You can deal with that fear...but what you're even more afraid of is betrayal.

Like what happened last time.

Yoongi stares at you for a moment and watches as you get that faraway look in your eye, the same look that tells him you're not really here. When the two of you reach the dressing room once again, he can't help but pause a few feet away from you. He has the sudden urge just to look at you, maybe then he'd be able to understand.

"You're not what I thought you were." He mutters, not sure if you can hear him, but at your smile, he knows you never stopped listening. You smile at him over your shoulder.

"I guess I don't like beating around the bush either."

𝔞/𝔫: i feel like this offers a lot of background to yen's past...which may be revealed soon

chapter 31 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Flake von Rammstein, früher Feeling B im interview - 2019

Author Lars Schmidt, from

English translation

The other bands of the GDR: Feeling B

"We showed that you could have a lot of fun in the GDR"

From the mid-80s onwards, a whole bunch of young, non-conformist bands embodied the lifestyle of the GDR youth with their music and thus shaped the sound of the change. Also there: Feeling B. Keyboard player Flake, now with Rammstein, tells how diligent his music used to be, what went on at village concerts and how he experienced the fall of the Berlin Wall.

Today, Feeling B is often portrayed as the GDR punk band - also due to the connection to Rammstein. Is that justified?

Feeling B wasn't actually a punk band. We didn't really fit in anywhere. The punks didn't accept us because we basically didn't make punk music. Because we weren't edgy enough from our whole life and appearance. And the right rock bands didn't take us seriously either because we were so amateurish, couldn't play properly and deliberately cultivated and maintained our amateurism. At that time we weren't a serious band for anyone. It was very difficult to place us anywhere. Because we were all just too bad. We were an amateur band. But if you say punk is, if you don't give a shit, if you don't care about the rules and only do what you want, then we were a punk band. But less about the music. The fact that we are perceived as a GDR punk band today is only due to the fact that we were the only one of these bands who managed to bring out an LP with Amiga in GDR times.

How did you experience the GDR underground scene?

As a teenager at 16 or 17, I mainly noticed blues bands in the GDR. There was Freygang. And their singer André Greiner-Pol was punk at heart. Basically he played punk in a blues band, had a punky demeanor and some of the lyrics were already punk. Later we played our first concert as Feeling B with Freygang. They just took us with them and let us play in the break between their blocks. Even though we didn't have a permit back then. And nobody noticed. I noticed the first punk band in the east in 1983. It was called Rosa Extra. This was also the name of sanitary towels in the GDR. Shortly afterwards, there was an anti-riot and revolt to love. None of them had a state classification, so they weren't allowed to play. They were real punk bands and therefore they had nothing to do with the so-called "other bands". The so-called other bands were groups that had received a classification and thereby a state recognition. And besides punk, they were also influenced by other genres, for example ska or new wave.

(photo from Flake's private collection)

Did the scene only take place in the big cities or was punk going on in the provinces too?

Our main area of ​​activity was in the village. In Ebersbrunn, Lugau, Saalfeld, Lobenstein. In places that you only really know because there is a village hall. Where the promoter just bought the bands that people wanted to hear. And not the bands that were prescribed for him by the state. Things happened there that nobody knew anything about and nobody suspected anything. Forbidden bands played there by only changing their names. Bands played programs that were absolutely forbidden and people came and nobody noticed. The small villages could not be monitored so well and the Stasi could not see them. Berlin, on the other hand, was the capital of the GDR. If there are 20 punks banding together or 40 goths or 60 heavy metal fans, of course, the police will come and see what is going on and be suspicious. The youth clubs in Berlin were of course much more closely monitored. It was different in the village. Who goes to Lugau and looks at which band is playing? That was too strenuous for the state authorities.

Can one say that Feeling B were privileged because your singer Aljoscha Rompa was allowed to travel to the West?

Yes, because it enabled Aljoscha to get me a Casio keyboard. Such a small Casio toy instrument. That was my main musical instrument. Nowadays every musician would laugh to himself about it. That was really a 200 Mark West item from the toy store. But otherwise nobody in the East was interested in the fact that Aljoscha was allowed over. On the contrary. Rather, a hostile defensive stance built up.

What significance did the program "Parocktikum" have for the scene?

Lutz Schramm, the moderator, was the John Peel of the East. He was the first to play cassettes from Eastern bands on the radio. You can't credit him enough for that!

(photo from Flake's private collection)

How did you experience the fall of the wall?

We were in the crazy position that we were allowed to drive with Feeling B to West Berlin and West Germany shortly before the fall of the Berlin Wall. We suspected that the state wanted to show the West how cool we still are in the East and that we are opening up. It had already brought Western stars like Bruce Springsteen to the East. And we had been sent to the west. But we had a Stasi employee who pretended to be our manager. And he told us you can stay here too. That was a very clear offer that we should stay in the West. And we assume that was why we were allowed over there, to get us to disappear from the East. But that's how it came to be that we played in West Berlin on the evening the Berlin Wall came down. And suddenly a lot of friends come in while we're playing. A few had already fled via Hungary and the green border. And many of our acquaintances have already gone to the West. But that evening there was more. So I asked: "What's going on here. What are you doing here? Have you all left now?" They said: "No, the wall is open." I say: "Can't be true." Then we took our whole fee and got beer for everyone we knew. For us it was an incredible honor. When the wall goes up and everyone can leave the GDR for the first time - what do they do first? They go to the Feeling B concert. There is no better way to express sympathy. That touched me very much. That made it a great evening for us, of course.

How was the time after the fall of the Berlin Wall for Feeling B? Did your counterpart disappear with the end of the GDR?

We didn't sing directly against the GDR. We sang against certain things that were mostly due to the narrow-mindedness and madness of the people. And we had already seen on our first visits that in the West of course nothing is even a bit better. Rather everything is much worse. Aljoscha had already warned us in Eastern times: "If you think all the philistines are here, go west." In the GDR, we felt very comfortable as punks. After that it got worse bit by bit. But when I say that things got wrong during the reunification, that's no complaint. This law-free space after the fall of the Wall was very funny for a while. You could do anything and nobody knew it was allowed. Is it allowed or not? That was a very eventful time and I always got to bed late, to put it that way.

How much GDR is there in Rammstein?

Very very much. Since we were all socialized in the GDR, we think much less selfishly. Nobody tries to stand out. We don't quarrel. What counts for us is what the collective creates.

How do you rate the importance of Feeling B today?

We showed that you could very well have an unlikely lot of fun in the GDR. We made very light and relaxed music. And with that we brought in a little freshness. We also saw the funny side of every situation, were happy about it and made fun of it. We wanted to shape our whole life in such a way that we never scold but always laugh. So far we have largely succeeded. And we showed people that you don't have to play an instrument to make music. But that was more in the spirit of punk than time.

What do you particularly like to remember?

At some concerts I just had a feeling of joy. And the people were also happy, it was like a fair. An event outside of space and time. At a Feeling B concert, everything was allowed and everything was fun. The party went on into the night and there was no difference between the band and the fans. It was all a mass of young people who had a lot of fun in life and could also enjoy it.

[obligatorynasty]

ObligatoryNasty’s Starker Prompt Graveyard (pt. 1) ✨~I’m cleaning house ~✨

So I basically fell off the face of the internet for like a year and left a bunch of unfinished prompts in my wake. (I know, I kinda suck for that) But it’s been so long that a lot of them no longer spark joy and I’m so sorry!! 😔😔😔

I decided to just post some of what I had written from before and give some meta of what I would’ve done with each prompt. Apologies for any typos! ❤️

-

The Vibration Situation (Peter x Tony)

Peter’s heart thrummed in his chest as he dashed through the crosswalk. He was running late today; partially due to the delayed bus but mostly due to the instructions Tony unexpectedly texted him this morning. Not that he was complaining but getting a thing like that to fit comfortably takes a little bit of time. Even with his efforts in the shower, it still felt tight, especially as he hurried down the New York sidewalk.

As he finally made it down the two blocks, he approached his destination: Stark Tower. “Hi Tones!” He called out with a wave as he jogged up the steps, catching his breath with a smile as he stopped in front of Tony. “Sorry, we’re you waiting long?”

“Not at all,” Tony smiled, pulling Peter into a hug and locking his fingers at the small of Peter’s back as they talked. “Signed a few autographs, took some pictures with the adoring fans, the usual.”

Peter hummed, shifting his weight to his toes to press to quick kiss against Tony’s cheek. “Everyone’s favorite hero,” He whispered into another kiss.

Tony grinned, “Pretty sure Capsicle has me beat on that front.”

“Well, you’re my favorite hero.” Peter pointedly said, smiling sweetly.

“And you, mine,” Tony reciprocated, returning the smile in earnest before suddenly being interrupted by a paparazzi.

“Mr. Stark, Peter, over here! For the Bugle!” The man with the camera called out, interested in snapping a shot of the media’s favorite new couple. Their names had been in the news for weeks now after that first lucky paparazzi photo of them kissing in their suits. How the paparazzi managed to get that rooftop top photo, they would never know.

Tony smiled, shifting his stance to pose for pictures, arm around Peter’s waist. And as the camera flashed, he leaned over, whispering with a smile, “Did you bring it, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir,” Peter whispered back, waving with one hand and slipping a small remote into Tony’s jacket pocket with the other.

“Good,” Tony nodded, gripping tighter at Peter’s waist. “Just keep smiling, Pete.” He said as he switched on the remote, a playful test to see just how obedient Peter was.

Peter flinched, catching a breath in his throat, fighting the urge to moan as the vibrations pulsed within him and massaged his prostate. In any other situation, he would have screamed. But not in front of the paparazzi. No, in front of them, he remained poised, gripping at the back of Tony’s jacket like a lifeline and whining low through his teeth. He was grateful that he decided to wear a longer coat today, or else the headlines would have been riddled with pictures of his ever-growing bulge.

“Alright everyone, Mr. Parker and I have reservations. No more pictures please,” Tony waved the paparazzi away, clasping his hand in Peter’s and leading him the car.

As Tony ushered him into the car, Peter focused on walking and how much he didn’t want to anymore. Each step made the toy press harder into his sweet spot, firing pleasure up his spine that made his eyes sting with tears as he choked back moans. Once they were finally in the car, Tony let up, switching off the toy with a grin as he pulled the car away from the curb. “You did well, Peter.”

“That was a lot, Tones,” Peter spoke between exhales as he tried catching his breath that he didn’t realize he was holding.

“When we get to the restaurant, can I take it out?” Peter asked, genuinely convinced they were done.

But Tony just laughed, it was almost sympathetic. Almost. “You won’t be taking that out until the end of the day, my love.”

A/N: That was all I had for this one. But, in a perfect world, I would’ve had them go to a fancy restaurant. And of course, Tony being Tony, he turns the vibrator on again as Peter is ordering. Peter is a stuttering and blushing mess, maybe the waiter starts to catch on, but Tony plays it off and orders for them both. Toss in some “Good boy, Peter”s and some “Thank you, sir”s. 

Then they would’ve gone to a movie premiere. Maybe walked a red carpet. Tony would keep putting his hand in his pocket like he’ll turn it on but he doesn’t. (He’s just playing mind games lol.) Instead, he turns it on once they’ve been seated. The theater is small so they’re relatively far from others. This time, he doesn’t stop it. Just keeps it on low until the louder parts of the movie. The ups and downs start getting to Peter, and when they head to the after party, he really starts to beg to cum whenever they get a second alone. And as they mingle with the others, Tony practically tortures Peter through that as well. Then Peter starts to fall into subspace, which is Tony’s cue to finally leave the party and head back to the Tower. Promising that, “We’re still not done, sweetheart.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Unexpected but Inevitable. (Penny X Tony) TW: character death

“Penny Parker, is it?” Tony hums, claiming the adjacent bar stool as his own, wordlessly gesturing to the bartender for a drink. It is only after glancing up and down the span of her body did he stare into Penny’s dark eyes, relaxing his tie with a short tug and taking the whiskey neat without brandishing thanks. His frame is powerful and expecting; the bustle of the elite after-event unable to cloud the glint of arrogance hiding beyond his playful eyes.

Despite his efforts, Penny doesn’t take the bait. Instead, she smooths her hand against the black satin of her dress, flattening the ripples across her thighs. As she moves, so does the light refracting off the studded clutch hanging from a chain on her shoulder. She sits silently, swirling the last sip of her metropolitan before finishing it and placing the lipstick stained glass against a napkin. As the bartender takes the glass, she smiles and speaks a clear, “Thank you.” The bartender nods and moves to serve other patrons.

The interaction has Tony’s ego bleeding outward. “Ignoring the man that invited your company is in poor taste, Ms. Parker.”

“Don’t speak to me about poor taste with the likes of Hammer on the invite list.” Penny quips, rotating her bar stool and throwing one leg over the other, letting the slit of her dress cascade open at the knee. “It seems to me that you’ve taken a clear stance on the value of my company.”

Tony laughs. It’s earnest and only quelled by the burn of whiskey against his tongue. “A preconceived stance, yes,” He admits, grinning as his gaze strays in favor of Penny’s show of skin. “Your presentation at the conference was actually impressive but don’t let that go to your head. People tend to do that when I say the ‘I’ word.”

This time, Penny just barely leans in, gives a soft smile and slight tilt of her head. She lets her bobbed curls bounce against the corner of her mouth before tucking them behind her ear. Each movement is careful, reciprocal and seductive. “And what exactly did you find so impressive, Mr. Stark?”

Tony moves closer, forearm against the bar, hand cradling his drink. “The strength of the synthesize material, its elasticity, its practical and combative use cases.” His voice dipped, somewhere sultry, “And Ms. Parker, watching you deliver the presentation was – well, I’ll definitely be inviting your company to more suitable events from now on.”

Penny averts her gaze, giving the bustling room a once over as she fights against a grin tugging on the corners of her mouth. “I’m sure my employees will be thrilled.”

“And you?” Tony reaches forward, placing a careful hand atop Penny’s.

Her eyes flicker down at the touch then flash upward to meet Tony’s. “I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Stark.” She whispers as she stands, heels colliding with tile as she pulls a hundred dollar bill from her clutch. “But don’t let that go to your head.” She adds with a smile, placing the money against the bar. “For mine and his,” She calls to the bartender, who nods with a kind smirk.

Tony scoffs, abandoning his drink as he stood. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“We all do things that we don’t have to do,” Penny insists as she starts towards the crowd. “Kind or otherwise.”

“So you’re the selfless type,” Tony remarks as he quickens his pace to keep up with her strides. “Or is it all for your company? Just how many generous donations has Parker Industries made to rain forests, world hunger, and whales?”

Penny shakes her head as they exit the hotel’s ballroom. “You’re quite the cynic, Mr. Stark.”

“I’m quite the believer in a good PR team,” Tony retorts as they make their way down the hall, through the reception lobby, and stop in front of the elevators.

Penny reaches forward, pressing the up arrow before shifting her weight to one side and standing with her arms crossed. “Your PR team—“ She breaks the silence as the elevator opens and they step inside. “—Have they solved your issues across the pond?”

Tony smirks, tapping his room key against the scanner before pressing the penthouse button. “As far as I, and anyone else, is concerned, those issues are for the greater good.”

“And the bodies?”

“What bodies?”

Penny shakes her head at the casual denial she but manages a smile with her eyes, “Fair enough.”

“Which floor, Ms. Parker?” Tony asks as the doors close and the elevator starts ascending.

“Fifteen.”

Tony presses the button and moves to stand at her side, “I was sure this went without saying but—“

Penny breathes a low laugh, “It went without saying?”

“—You’re invited to continue our chat upstairs.” Tony’s grin is as mischievous as it is suggestive. “I promise it will be very in depth and... pleasurable.”

Penny tucks a curl behind her ear, glancing at Tony before focusing her gaze on the elevator’s doors. She stays quiet, keeping a soft smile as the numbers above the doors increment: twelve… thirteen... fourteen... and finally, fifteen. The elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open with an audible ding!

But Penny doesn’t move. Instead, she watches as the doors shut and listens as Tony releases a pleased huff of air like his hypothesis had been proven. So arrogant, Penny thinks.

When the doors open again, it’s to a mostly glass penthouse suite, complete with a grand piano, high ceilings, and a balcony pool. The bar’s selves are stocked and the coffee table is covered with an assortment of treats courtesy of the hotel’s staff, who are no doubt thrilled to have the room be booked. As Penny steps inside, she makes a point to move through the space unimpressed. She removes her heels in the entrance way and places her clutch atop the bar.

“What do you think?” Tony asks as he pulls his tie away and tosses it onto the couch. “Too much?”

“To clean, perhaps,” Penny jokes and Tony laughs.

“You’re an interesting one, Penny.”

“One,” Penny repeats as she unclasps her necklace and removes her earrings, placing them inside her clutch and pulling out a small metal bracelet, which she slips on when Tony isn’t looking. “Implying many.”

“I’ve had experiences,” Tony notes as they move into the bedroom.

“All good, I hope.”

“There’s always someone better,” He asserts, his voice just as sultry as before.

Penny almost rolls her eyes – actually, she is so certain she will that she turns around to hide it and plays it off by sweeping her curls to one side, revealing her dress’s zipper. “Would you?” She asks but Tony is already there; one hand smoothing across the curve of her hip, the other pulling the zipper down her spine.

As the dress falls away, all that’s left is simple black lace set and the metal bracelet adorning her supple honey cream skin, speckled lightly with freckles and soft to the touch. Penny spins on her heel, her hands tracing up Tony’s chest and smoothing downward, undoing buttons on her way.

A/N: I literally had a break here that said: “Write sex scene. Tony’s great at sex. Penny is better.” I’m so so sorry 😅😅😅 But just imagine Penny riding the hell out of Tony and then getting close orgasming and then:

And as that stream rushes through that final barrier, Penny’s muscles tense and her voice is caught in her throat and suddenly, she is shaking and the biggest burst of pleasure is quickly followed by waves that have her moaning so loud it echoes in the vast room. She still rocks her hips with the sparks of euphoria, chasing the waning feeling, her hands still braced against Tony’s chest as he grunts and a liquid heat explodes inside her warmth. She smiles, gliding her fingertips across his nipples, along his neck and face, and through his short locks.

“There’s always someone better,” Tony breathes out with a satisfied smile.

Penny’s expression flattens then and, with her hand still threaded in Tony’s hair, she lifts herself up and moves to straddle his chest. He’s still smiling, so lost in his pleasure that the way she shoves his head back and grips at his throat is nothing.

“Feisty,” Tony mutters through a strained breath.

Penny shakes her head, “You’re deplorable.”

“And you’re divine.”

Fitting lasts words, Penny thinks as she sprays webbing across his nose and mouth. She watches as the playfulness drains from his eyes; watches the concern, worry, and fear sink in. He starts struggling for a moment but then stops – smart enough to conserve his breath.

Penny leans down, petting a soothing hand through his hair and whispering sweetly, “I’ve been hired to kill you, Tony.” She presses a kiss against his forehead. “Those issues across the pond – all of the bodies you’ve ignored – they have ghosts and they are angry.”

And Tony lays there – struggling for air and overcome with regret – staring up at a goddess of death as his vision blurs and he is forced into meeting an unexpected yet inevitable demise.

-

I’ll be posting more tomorrow in graveyard pt. 2!

[something-fanfiction-ie]

Rough Drafts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Explicit descriptions of a murder scene, argument, angst, and cursing.

A/N: Okay, so I know I said I was gonna publish this yesterday but I got Cassandra Clare’s newest book and I couldn’t put it down. I seriously love that lady. Omg. Anyways, it’s here now! And it’s angsty! And there’s gonna be a fourth part soon I promise! For real. Don’t forget to reblog, comment, send me an ask or a message and overall just adore me so that I may continue to feel good about myself. As always thank you for supporting me and I hope you enjoy!!!

[ Part One | Part Two ]

___

An incredulous laugh bursts from your lips, your nails cutting crescent moons into the palms of your hands as you try and convince yourself that this isn’t actually happening.

“Do you have alibis for your whereabouts on Monday, June eighth, Saturday, June thirteenth, and Thursday, June eighteenth?” Spencer can see your leg bouncing rapidly under the table, your eyes flying over the pictures and the expression of Emily Prentiss. You seem genuine, but he can’t trust himself to get an accurate read of you anymore.

“I, uhm, I- I wouldn’t know off the top of my head. I keep a planner, I’ll forget things otherwise.” The burst of iron in your mouth is not something you’re unused to, having chewed your cheek so badly that the skin there has broken under your teeth.

“We’ll need to see that.” Emily isn’t sure whether or not she believes that you’re guilty, watching the way you seem to unravel before her. When you look at the crime scene photos, it isn't with any pleasure, but with disgust. Your nose wrinkles a little at the bridge and you keep looking away as the blood from your face starts to drain. 

Either you’re a really good actress or you aren’t the unsub.

Emily says as much as she flips through the small teal planner that you’d willingly given them. Due dates for chapters, publishing events, book signings and days for book tours fill most of the pages in your most neat handwriting. Dates you plan to go visit your mother, grocery shop, doctor’s appointments, even plans to go somewhere and write.

Everything is explicitly stated, that way you’re never unsure of what you meant to tell yourself. That is, until around three weeks ago when a handful of days are notated with an ‘S,’ followed by a random doodle. Sometimes it’s a tiny heart drawn absentmindedly while you discuss the plans over the phone, other times it’s a cartoon bunny or a top hat.

Garcia is the first to take notice of it, her fingers faltering in their constant thrum against the keyboard in front of her. She glances out of the side of her glasses, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Looks like lonely girl found herself a boo.” 

“That makes sense,” JJ says from the chair she’s pulled into Penelope’s office from the bullpen. A pen is stretched between her hands, her posture relaxed into the curve of the stiff, government-issued rolly chair.

All the girls have gathered into the tech analyst’s room while the men take turns interrogating you. Well, all except Spencer. He just stands behind that window watching your every move with eyes like a hawk. “What doesn’t make sense is why she keeps it secret even in her personal planner.”

“Maybe she has a stalker? That could be who is doing all this?” 

“Then she wouldn’t keep careful notation of everything else going on in her life. A stalker would follow her every move, not just her romantic interests. Even if he is in love with her.”

“A partner, maybe? Like the days they planned the murders or days they were acted out?”

“None of the days line up with the crimes, save for this one,” Emily leans the book toward the two women with her finger just underneath June fifth, the day Alison Crane was abducted from outside her campus dorm room. It’s the third ‘S’ scribbled into the corner of a day in the entire book.

“And there is nothing else written in relation to this ‘S’ character?” JJ shakes her head, looking for any clues that could be nestled among the loops and curls of your writing. Reid would be better at this, he was the graphology expert among them. So why wasn’t he back here helping?

“Then I guess we better try and get her to talk about it. Meanwhile Garcia, we’ll get Rossi and Reid to head over to her apartment and you can hack into her computer?” Penelope spins the chair, a flash of bright colors and blond hair. She clicks her tongue in response, throwing up a fingers gun and winking.

“Whatever you need me to do, I’m on it like sexy on Derek Morgan stepping out of the shower in a towel.”

After some arguing, and maybe just a little bit of pleading, they manage to convince Reid to join Rossi on a trip to your apartment. He can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable, standing in your living room. Not because he’d been here before, but because he’d never been here before.

The empty mugs that litter every surface, smelling of old coffee and your favorite coffee creamer (he only knows it’s your favorite because you explicitly ask for that creamer at every coffee shop the two of you have ever gone to), is unfamiliar to him. He’s invited you to his apartment at least three times. How come he had never been to yours?

Small pages and notebooks of scribbled ideas and dialogues cover just as many areas as the coffee cups do, your handwriting messy and cramped in every note. It’s almost like you couldn’t get the idea out of your head fast enough.

The bed in your room is meticulously made without a wrinkle in sight, but that could be because of the obvious bed you’ve made yourself along the salmon pink couch that stretches out in front of your TV. A multicolored crochet blanket is thrown haphazardly over the back, a pillow still slightly squished against the arm.

On the coffee table is a half opened laptop, a notebook with red and black ink scribbled in the lines, and a still full cup of coffee. Rossi makes quick work of calling Garcia and helping her get patched into your computer. It’s strange, watching her move the mouse on your screen from miles away.

Reid never stops moving, walking the length of your studio apartment with his eyes peeled for any kind of information he could find. It’s obvious that you spend most of your time in the main room, which houses the kitchen, a small dining area, and the living room. A door leading into your room branches off to a small bathroom which is just as disorganized as everything else in your house.

Hair products, skin washes, and all kinds of makeup are scattered across the sink and back of your toilet. It’s funny because every time he’s ever met up with you, you’re bare faced and your hair is still drying from the shower you took before leaving your house. The tube of lipstick he picks up makes him think he doesn’t really know you at all.

On the nightstand in your room is a bottle of water with the label ripped off and the two Rossi books you’d bought that fateful day in the bookstore. The label from the water bottle is stuck between the middle pages of one of the books. The passages in question don’t lend anything to connecting you as a homicidal maniac, let alone a serial killer.

Back in the living room, Garcia is snooping through every aspect of your computer.

“I don’t know whether or not the be freaked out by her web history. There’s a lot of murder-y questions here. ‘Signs of a post mortem amputation,’ ‘How much blood can you lose and still live?,’ ‘Most brutal ways to be killed.’ It’s creepy.” Rossi is flicking through the notebook from the table, his eyes squinted as he tried to make sense of the abbreviations and scribblings of another writer.

“She writes crime novels so it isn’t entirely strange for her to be looking at those types of things.” Thankfully, the defense of your web search history comes from the older man who looks up as Garcia delves deeper and deeper. Spencer had thought it first, but hadn’t said anything to avoid suspicion. He’s smart enough to know that the truth has to come out eventually, but he wants to be sure of your innocence (or guilt, he reminds himself a bit glumly) before he reveals your link to him.

“I’m not seeing anything she could be using to contact a partner unless her partner is one of the publishing people she’s constantly messaging via email.” At this Spencer stops, leaning against the back of the couch with his weight resting on the heels of his hands. The stance appears relaxed. He is anything but.

“Why do we assume she has a partner?” Reid asks, impatiently pushing a stray curl away from his face. Rossi glances at him curiously, otherwise undistracted from the shake the movement gives the couch.

“Oh, Prentiss, JJ, and I were looking through her little teal book earlier and the only thing not explicitly stated was just the letter ‘S.’ It’s why they came back to interrogate and they sent you guys to her house. I thought they told you.”

Spencer wants to beat his head against the wall.

“That isn’t a lead, Garcia. You have to tell them that ‘S’ isn’t her partner.” The mouse on the computer screen falters, several saved documents for different rough drafts of books or drabbles are pulled up the way you might have papers scattered about in front of you.

“What is it? Do you know who ‘S’ is?” Rossi is turned sideways on the couch, looking over the back and up at the distressed man in front of him. It doesn’t take him long to connect the dots when they make eye contact. Penelope impatiently whines over the phone.

“I’m ‘S,’ I’ve been seeing her for the last three weeks. I’m sure if you tell me the dates then every single one of them will be days that we’ve had plans together.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Before anyone has the chance to say anything else, the door to Garcia’s office opens and a second voice filters through Rossi’s phone speaker. It’s JJ.

“Let Reid and Rossi know there’s just been another murder.”

This time it’s a fifteen year old girl. Her hair is black and wet, her lips are as blue as the sky, and she’s naked. Water droplets from her skin have soaked into the sheet of paper that was layed over her chest. The bathtub she’s in is completely empty, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that she was drowned there. The bruises on her shoulders from the force the unsub used to pin her down are dark against the contrast of her already pale skin.

...The man leaned over the tub, his eyes squinted in thought and his lips skewed a little to the side. Ryder stayed focused on the crime scene, for the most part. But even detectives of her caliber, and higher, could easily get lost in the eyes that look up at her from beneath long golden-brown lashes.

“Detective?” She blinks the distraction away, looking back at the girl, her black hair wet and spiraling like the snakes on Medusa’s head against the ivory siding of the drained tub. Ryder can’t help but wish the girl had been lucky enough to turn her killer to stone. Maybe it would have saved her.

“Agent.” She crosses her arms, looking anywhere but at the man across from her, pretending to look for any useful clues. Ryder had gotten to the crime scene fourty-five minutes before the pair of FBI Agents had walked in. The man, who had introduced himself as Supervisory Special Agent Matthew Gray, had decided to join her in the second floor bathroom. His partner, a woman named Katherine Swift, had taken to looking for clues through the rest of the house.

Agent Gray is beautiful. It’s the only adjective that seems to stick to him with certainty, every other aspect of his personality just as elusive as the exact color of those eyes. Even as short as his hair is, the golden brown tendrils are unkempt and curl every which way. Ryder has to force her hand to stay at her side and not reach up to smooth an alfalfa that does nothing for the serious expression on his face.

She keeps imagining what it would feel like if he reached out to kiss her, curling his fingers into her hair and bringing her unworthy lips up to meet his. He’s tall so she would probably have to stretch a little, but she wouldn’t mind. Not when his hands are tangled in her hair and he’s giving her the kiss she’s been silently begging for since the moment he flashed that crooked grin at her.

The imagination is so vivid that she jumps when her own partner, Detective Russo, comes around the corner of the hallway and straight into the bathroom...

The paper crinkles in the evidence bag as Morgan places it on the table, trying to ignore the daggers being glared into him on the other side of the mirror.

Nobody on the team had been very happy with Spencer when they heard the news about your relationship, Hotch had nearly snatched him by the scruff of his neck when he made to go into the interrogation room. But after several minutes of thoroughly explaining himself, Hotch had sent Morgan in. To say Spencer was infuriated was an understatement.

“Do you know what this is, (Y/N)?” You look down at it, twisting the evidence bag so that you could read the Times New Roman font you always wrote in when writing in Microsoft Word. The words cover the front and back of the copy paper, but you don’t have to read it through all the way before you know what it is.

“It’s a page from my newest book.” The bag scratches against the tabletop as you push it away from you, crossing your arms over your chest. Your face is stoplight red with embarrassment at the thought of Spencer reading this page, mostly because you had pulled so heavily from your own thoughts when first meeting Spencer to write Ryder and Gray’s first meeting. You created Matthew Gray to write about Spencer Reid in a way that felt less ‘high school diary entry.’

“More specifically, it’s from the book you just started working on about a month ago. The one that only you and your agent have access to.” Finally, Morgan sits. Before, he’d just been pacing around you the way a lioness might stalk around her prey before she launches an attack. It made you uneasy, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it?

“Do you know where we found it, (Y/N)?” His muscles bulge against his shirtsleeves when he leans them up on the table. Derek Morgan is a very attractive man, you’ll give him that, but if making you uneasy and putting you in the room with a attractive man to fluster you was their strategy then they should have sent in Spencer.

“My computer.”

“We found it on the body of a dead girl.” Another picture joins the ones already shuffled around the table. You can barely look at it, nausea and tears building in your throat at the sight of another person dying the same way you’d written in a story. When you don’t respond, Morgan continues.

“‘She was found at the bottom of an empty bathtub, a pale leg hooked over the edge of the porcelain siding, and her arms pinned to her sides in death. Bruises discolored the skin at her shoulders, and Ryder knew at first glance that her cause of death would be asphyxiation by drowning.’” He drops the paper back to the table, having picked it up to read the passage from the end of the page.

“That’s wrong,” You say, leaning back over the table to look at the paper again. Derek looks down, like the words might have changed in the moment he looked away, but the text stays exactly the same as before.

“That’s exactly what is written here.” You shake your head, pulling the bag back to you and wrinkling your forehead in thought.

“I don’t doubt that is what you read, Agent Morgan,” Your eyes fly over the page, reading the end of the excerpt with overwhelming relief. The bag sticks a little to the pad of your index finger as you tap over the paragraph in question. “But I rewrote this scene only two nights ago. It’s on my computer, I’m sure your tech analyst can confirm my claim. This girl, Bella, she doesn’t die from drowning anymore. Her hands are tied above her head to the faucet and she’s strangled. I couldn’t decide if I wanted it to be by her sister or her girlfriend.”

JJ rushes back to Penelope’s office, on a mission to confirm your statement just as you had suggested. Meanwhile, Morgan’s mind is rushing to figure out the mess he is currently sat in. You lean back in your chair now, unsure if the dizziness you feel is from lack of food or the sudden realization that they couldn’t pin this to you anymore.

“I’m not your bad guy. If I was doing this to prove to my mother that my writing is good, that I chose the right career, as your profile says, I wouldn’t change the scene in my book and not change the murder.” In Morgan’s earpiece, Hotch tells him that you were telling the truth about editing the scene two nights ago.

“Unless you planned it to throw us off track. We know about your relationship with Spencer, you’ve probably found out all kinds of things to do to keep us from catching you.”

You clench your teeth, straightening into your chair and pinning Derek down with a look you’d learned from your mother. It makes him think of his mom, your eyes narrowed and your gaze so cold that it could cause frostbite. He watches curiosily as you tilt your chin up a little, trying to hide the pricks behind your eyes and the wobble of your lip. Derek notices them, the entire team notices. They’re trained to notice.

“I want a lawyer.” You say simply, you voice is sharp and quiet but it does the job of slicing through the tension already building in the room.

“Come on, you don’t need a lawyer.”

“That’s where you’re wrong again, Agent Morgan. I do need a lawyer. Because even though I have full-heartedly trusted the justice system since I was in diapers, and even though I came to these offices willing to help your team in any way that I could, you are still trying to use me as a scapegoat instead of actually doing your fucking job and finding the bastard who is killing people in my name.

“A study from criminal law bulletin says that 10,000 people are wrongfully convicted of serious crimes every year. One in every twenty-five people sentenced to death are innocent, Agent Morgan. Just since 1973, more than 160 people were exonerated from the death penalty. That’s not even counting the people who were killed. But you sure as hell aren’t about to make me apart of that statistic because you want to waste your time trying to piece an investigation around me. That’s not how you’re supposed to do your job. So until you can remember how to do it correctly, I do need a lawyer. Thank you.”

By the time you finish you’ve leaned over the table, your index finger jammed into the wood to make your point. It feels like your chest is on fire as you slam back into your seat and cross your arms, determined to keep your silence for the rest of the time you were forced to sit here.

Everyone on the opposite side of the mirror is stunned into silence, their eyes focused on you even as Derek gathers all the things from the desk and walks out looking a little flustered himself. If Spencer was totally honest, your outburst was actually kind of hot. He has to remind himself that you may have killed eight people in cold blood.

Your lawyer makes it to the BAU in record time, his red hair expertly gelled back from his face. His icy blue eyes only cracking when he sees you sitting by yourself in the interrogation room. Spencer can tell by the way that he lowers himself on the balls of his feet to talk to you, reaching out to touch the hand that sits on your thigh, that he knows you personally. He likes you, actually. Spencer tried to tell himself that it doesn’t make him glad when you pull your hand out of his and awkwardly pat his arm.

He’s been lying to himself a lot today.

Hotch is the one to go back in the room, he was the best at dealing with lawyers. Unfortunately his best wasn’t enough to keep you in custody and soon your lawyer, who Spencer learned was named Jeremy, was walking you out of the room for the first time in six hours.

Your back cracks when you stand, your shoulders rolling back to try and ease some of the stress you’d been holding there since this morning. The sound of the door swinging open for you is almost heavenly, the feel of the air outside of the room is damn near enough to make you cry.

When you look to the side, ready to leave out the second door that leads into the hallway and away from this mess, you meet eyes with the only profiler of the BAU that you hadn’t seen that day. Spencer looks back at you with an expression that you find hard to put into words.

He almost looks sorry, the regret evident in the slight widening of his eyes, but at the same time his chin is tilted up like he is facing an enemy he has vowed to take down no matter the cost. His shoulders are squared, but his arms are uncrossed and his palms are open.

And even though you knew you wouldn’t be there without him knowing, the reassurance that Spencer knew and even suspected you is like a blow to the chest and stomach. It robs you of air, causing you to stumble.

Jeremy reaches to steady you. You shake him off, pulling your eyes from the young doctor and focusing all of your attention on the door knob.

“I’m fine, Jeremy.” Your tone of voice is more harsh than you intended but you’re still struggling to collect oxygen, even when you slide into your car by yourself, it feels like you can’t get enough air. The walk from the BAU offices to the parking lot had passed in a blur. Jeremy’s talk about staying at home and keeping your head low had gone by even faster, and now that you have time to truly be by yourself, everything hits like a ton of bricks thrown at you from a speeding train.

In the midst of your panic attack, gasping for air into the palms of your shaking hands, questioning everything about yourself and your career, you don’t register the shuffle of movement in your backseat. You’re so deep in your mind that you almost don’t notice the cool press of a gun barrel against the back of your neck until a familiar voice lifts your head from your hands.

“Drive.”

[writer-k-pop]

Photoshoot

네 앞에서 내가 잘 보이도록 하고 싶어. I want to make sure I look good in front of you.

Description: [REQUEST] I'd love to see an idol!Seungkwan and photographer!reader fluff piece where they’re so enamored with each other and the reader considers him their muse around the boys and Seungkwan gets so shy but loves it. (I hope this is along the lines of what you were looking for, Anon! If not, let me know and I can try again ) Warnings: None Genre: Fluff, Idol!Seungkwan x Photographer!Reader Word Count: 2.4k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

Click. Click.

"Light check, please." My right hand man, Jongmin, called out. Then a moment later, the lights switched through every color they could.

I stayed behind the camera waiting for a moment to slip away to the dressing room. But of course, the pre shoot preparations were as  always the busiest and most chaotic times. As one of the favorite photographers for Seventeen, I was recruited to shoot their Season's Greetings last year and was asked to return again this year. Which how could I have denied the request when the one requesting was my own boyfriend, Seungkwan.

"(y/n)?" One of my newer assistants, Somin, called out to me, "Do you want to check these?" She asked pointing towards the screen front of her. I nodded and walked over to the computer.

I chuckled, "How can I check it when all it's only shots of the background?"

She tilted her head to the side, "Oh, you're right. Sorry."

I shook my head, "Don't be. Can you get one of the staff members to stand in frame?" She nodded quickly and got out of her seat to find somebody.

I walked back to the camera and began fiddling with the settings as the lights changed to match what was needed for the shoot. Reds and blues and purples for a fun first shoot.

"I went to find a staff but the other members pushed him out of the dressing room and told me to use him instead." Somin returned.

I looked up at her and standing behind her was Seungkwan smiling sheepishly at me. I laughed, loving the way he was brought to me instead of me having to go to him. "Seungkwan, can you?" I asked nodding towards the set.

"Are we starting already?" He asked giving me a quick hug as Somin walked away.

I shook my head, "Nope, I just have to check a few things." I informed him but he still didn't release me. Though I enjoyed it thoroughly, we were about to start a large shoot and his members would show up at any moment.

"Seungkwan?" He hummed in a simple response, "Coups is coming." I lied and faster than one could say "Seventeen," Seungkwan released me and walked in front of the camera.

"Right here is good?" He asked looking around nervously for his leader and the teasing that would have surely followed if Coups had really been there.

I suppressed a laugh and nodded but Seungkwan caught on.

"That was a lie." He chuckled at himself.

I nodded and started to snap some shots of him laughing at himself as testers. After a few, I stopped to check the settings.

"How are they looking?" I asked Somin.

"They look good." She started but trailed off slightly.

"But?" I pushed, silently encouraging her to speak her thoughts. I leaned down and took in the pictures, immediately catching what needed to be fixed.

"I think the center mark is off and the one balloon in the back should be moved to the left a little." She explained, "I think it would look more natural that way."

I smiled at her with pride, "Good, I also think the center mark should be moved but I didn't notice the balloon. Can you move it? I'll get the center mark."

She nodded and we moved towards where Seungkwan was still standing, hands clasped in front of him, looking around a little awkwardly.

"Did I do okay?" He asked as I got closer.

"Do you always ask your photographers so many questions?" I questioned him with a small smirk.

"No, but it's you." He tried to explain.

"What does that matter?" I nudged him to the side and knelt down to do what I needed to. He bent down in front of me with his hands wrapped around his knees and his eyes watching me work.

"Because you're my girlfriend and I want to make sure I look good in front of you." He answered with a matter-of-fact tone.

Slapping the mark into place, I stood back up. "You always look good, Seungkwan. Now get up, I need to check it again."

He quickly stood up, hands in his pockets. "Shoot away." He said with a simple smile.

I clicked away and simultaneously checked the monitors. Somin gave her nod of approval and my head followed suit. Everything was set.

"We're ready." I told one of their managers.

They nodded, "I'll go check on the members." And they walked away.

I stretched my neck and arms out, preparing for a loud but fun shoot.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Seungkwan shaking his head.

"What?" I asked him, straightening out.

"You should do this one instead." He stated and dropped into a squat.

"But your pants." I protested, not wanting him to ruin his outfit.

"It's fine." He dismissed my concern and began doing his infamous swelling reducing exercise. When he noticed I wasn't following him, he stopped, "Come on (y/n). It's a good for you."

"I think I'm good." I smiled, embarrassed at his antics.

"Oh come on, it's a really good." He pouted but I still shook my head. He then walked towards me in attempts to make me do the stretch but I ran away from him laughing.

He caught me near the center mark and spun me around, arms secured around my waist. In the midst of our little moment, we failed to hear the 12 other members walking in until the flash blinked around us. Seungkwan immediately put me down, making sure I was steady on my feet before completely releasing me.

"Ahhhh, Seungkwan!" Mingyu exclaimed from behind the camera, a huge smile plastered on his face. "You and (y/n) look so cute!"

"Yah, why don't you ever look that cute with us?" Hoshi questioned.

Seungkwan's cheeks blushed bright red even through his makeup and he tried to hide behind me. I laughed as I moved towards the camera but he kept following me.

"This must be why he asked (y/n) to be our photographer. So he can look his cutest." Dokyeom continued to tease.

I caught Seungcheol's gaze as I reached the camera and gave him a quick head shake, signaling that he should stop the teasing.

He received my message well and clapped his hands together, "Alright, we should introduce ourselves."

Mingyu gave me a pat on the back before joining the others, Seungkwan included.

As usual, Seungcheol led their greeting before giving a little speech.

"Please take care of us today. It sounds like it's going to be a long shoot but we'll do our best to make it fun for everyone." He said with a warm smile. "Thank you for being here today." He finished and then began a round of applause.

I clapped my hands together quietly and took in a breath to start giving orders.

"Members, gather in the center please." I ordered and all 13 members moved as one big blob onto the set. "Alright, pose and smile at me." I snapped shot after shot as they smiled and moved poses every so often. "Now laugh as if Wonwoo's just said the funniest thing in the world." I told them as Wonwoo stood in the middle of the group.

"But he doesn't usually say anything so he's not that funny." Dino stated with a straight face.

"What do you mean?" Wonwoo exclaimed, "I can be funny!" He laughed, joining the others and I got to work capturing their wide smiles.

"Alright, mix up, mix up." I called and they moved around, standing in different spots and we repeated the same process twice more.

"First unit?" I asked when we'd captured enough group photos.

"Vocal unit." Jun exclaimed happily.

"Alright, the others can rest for now." Then I turned my attention to the five who were already making their way towards the set. "Youngest on the left, oldest on the right please." I told them. I watched a moment of panic cross Dokyeom's face before Seungkwan slapped his shoulder.

"Hyung, I'm the only one younger than you." Seungkwan and Dokyeom shared a laugh while the other three quickly lined up: Jeonghan, Joshua, then Woozi.

Giggling to myself, I set myself up behind the camera.

"Okay," I mindlessly stated taking in their stick straight stances, standing straight at me. They continued to stare at me as I raised up from the lense. "Can you wrap an arm around the person next to you and lean your head slightly to the right?" I instructed their movements.

Jeonghan, Joshua, Woozi, and Dokyeom all followed my instructions but Seungkwan took on glance to his right then playfully glared at me.

"Oh! Is Seungkwan already getting angry?" Minghao called out from somewhere behind me.

"Seungkwan, just cross your arms and lean your head." I told him, ignoring the quips from the other members though Seungkwan's cheeks had already started to turn pink.

Seungkwan quickly followed my instructions and I took my place behind the camera again.

"Alright, smiles!" I said and instantly all five gave me bright smiles. Snapping the photos, Jongmin gave sounds of approval.

"Ahhhh, nice! Nice!" He clapped loudly, making Dokyeom flinch.

"Okay, I got my pose in. Gather how you want and smile pretty." I told them with a smile. They gathered in a small pod and smiled just as brightly.

Click. Click. Click.

The photos flowed in with ease and the members gave their approvals. Then it was time to move onto to solo shots for this set.

"First member, let's start." I called out while looking at some poses we had preselected to try.

"Seungkwan, of course." Jeonghan pushed the youngest forward.

"Ah, hyung." Seungkwan whined.

"Alright, alright. I'll go first." Jeonghan recanted his suggestion and made his way in front of the camera.

"Jeonghan, look here once and just-" He smiled, looking straight at the camera before I could finish. "Yeah, that. You know the drill."

I took a couple shots of his portrait before giving him the thumbs up. He then moved into his different poses, however he wanted to pose. Hands in his pockets, one hand gripping the edge of his zipper, turned around, smiling, serious face, laughing. Jeonghan showed it all while the other members made a chorus of cheers.

"Woah, Jeonghan hyung looks really good." Seungkwan commented, standing next to me and looking over at the monitors.

"You guys are idols." I told him, "You always look good."

"You should see us when we first wake up then." Vernon said standing next to Seungkwan.

I glanced at him, an eyebrow raised, "I have. Though some of you don't look as bad as you think you do."

Removing the camera from its stand, I give more instructions, "Jeonghan, let's have you sit on the ground and lean back on your elbows." He followed my instructions smoothly and within seconds, I'm above him snapping photos as he smiles happily up at me.

"(y/n)!" Seungkwan called out to me making me pause the picture taking, "Hyung should hold this, I think it'll be cute!" He held up a bear with a plaid scarf tied around its neck.

I took in the doll and nodded, "Bring it over, Seungkwan." Then to Jeonghan, "You can sit up and just, well, hold the bear. Better: cuddle the bear."

"Anything you say, (y/n). I trust you." Jeonghan said taking the bear from Seungkwan.

I continued snapping Jeonghan's pictures but suddenly Seungkwan started yelling and laughing.

"Yah! Stop that!" He yelled, then laughed, "It was a good idea, you heard her. It'll look so cute with Jeonghan hyung!" More laughter, "Doesn't he look cute, hyung?" More giggles from the other members, "Aish, whatever."

I couldn't help the smile that made its way onto my face and Jeonghan caught it.

"Are we that funny?" He asked quietly.

"Seungkwan's just cute when he tries to defend himself against your teasing." I explained, looking back at Somin and Jongmin for approval on the photos. They simple nodded and gave me thumbs ups.

I brought the camera back up to my eye and continued to shoot Jeonghan and his bear prop.

"Oh, sit him on your head and hold his paws." I pointed above his head.

"It's a he now?" Jeonghan questioned but followed the pose.

I shrugged, "It kind of reminds me of Seungkwan a little."

"Seungkwan!" Mingyu's voice startled me, "(y/n) said the bear reminds her of you!" He laughed and turned to glare at him.

Seungkwan placed his hands, palms up, under his chin, "It's cause I'm cute." He stated with a very cute smile.

I smiled back at him, "Of course, you're the cutest one here."

His face instantly changed into shyness and his hands moved to cover his eyes as the members cooed behind him. But underneath his hands, his smile still shined through. Taking a few more shots of Jeonghan, I decided that we had enough of him.

Walking back to the camera stand, I replaced the camera and called out, "Next member!"

"Seungkwan." Seungkwan announced as he strutted onto the set.

"Ok, shoulders squared towards me and smile." I instructed, snapping a few photos once he was smiling. Nodding at the results, I give him the thumbs up for him to pose as he pleases.

"Good, good." I encouraged Seungkwan as he crossed his arms and turned from one side to the other, showing off both his profiles. "Oh, I like it!" I exclaimed as he gave two finger hearts and winked at the camera.

"AYEE!" Many of the members exclaimed from behind me.

"That's too much!" Hoshi accused.

"Seungkwan, sexy pose, sexy pose!" Seungcheol suggested causing Seungkwan to hide behind his hands for the nth time that day.

"It should be easy." Jeonghan added, "(y/n)'s behind the camera." Seungkwan bursted out laughing and I quickly snapped a few candid photos.

"Seungkwan, let's have you sit down and take some shots from that angle." I suggested, ignoring the members' teasing. I removed the camera and moved closer to Seungkwan to get the angles that I wanted.

"You good?" I asked as Seungkwna tried to compose himself.

He quickly nodded, "You're here so it's okay."

I winked at him, "You're pictures are turning out great so I don't think we'll need many more."

"That's a relief." Seungkwan sighed happily.

And that's how the rest of the day's shoot commenced. Different members came onto set and every so often the members would tease Seungkwan for being too close to me or helping me or doing just about anything near me. Seungkwan always complained about the teasing but his tone was never serious. He never cared for the teasing because at least he could spend time hanging out with me.

[myveryownfanfiction]

Chapter 1

I walked into the office the next day and settled into my seat at the desk. Robert walked in and smiled at me as he passed me. Smiling back, I started to get to work. Before I could get started, the camera crew grabbed me for a one on one interview in the annex.

“What do I think of Robert California?” I repeated the producer's question for the video. I thought for a second before smiling. “I think it takes a little while to get used to him. I think that he’s actually really nice and even though he could be a little crass, once you get past it he’s a really nice person who knows a lot about sales and managing.” 

“So you got to know him last night?” The producer asked, smiling since they knew they had footage of us leaving the building late. 

“Yeah. I got to know him a bit last night.” I laughed. A commotion in the office made me get up and head back out. Kevin was planking on Dwight’s desk and Dwight had enlisted Darryl and Jim in trying to move him. “Guys! Guys! Guys!” I called as I ran out. “You’re gonna hurt yourselves. Chill. Let me handle this.” I walked over to my side of the desk and crawled under. I popped up in the middle and leaned down. “Hey Kev? If you stop planking and get off Dwight’s desk I’ll bring in that chocolate cake you love tomorrow.” Kevin didn’t move and I stood back up. “Ok Kev. No cake for you tomorrow.” I squared my stance and braced my back leg against my desk. “Last chance Kev.” I put one hand on Kevin’s shoulder and one on his hip. I smiled up at the guys that had been trying to lift him as I gave one big shove and Kevin rolled off of the desk. The guys jumped back as Kevin landed with a thud on the floor. Everyone looked up and Robert came out of the conference room to see what had happened. Andy entered the office at that moment. 

“What’s going on?” He asked as he took in the scene that was playing out. 

“Kevin was planking on my desk.” Dwight said. “(Y/N) solved the problem.” I mock bowed before going back under my desk and popping back up on the other side. Robert was laughing as he went back into the conference room and Andy waved Dwight into his office. I went back to the annex to finish up my interview. 

“So yeah. He’s not that bad a guy. He works out of the conference room about half the time. When he takes a break, he does these walks around the office. But you never know who he’s gonna zero in on for these small-talks. Some people just hope it isn’t you. And yet, you hope it is you. Everyone thinks it’s strange.” The producer nodded to let me know my interview was over and I went back out to my desk. I saw Robert was already starting his walk around the office. Today he seemed to have settled on Erin, even though I knew she had only caught his attention because she was waiting for him. 

“That’s how every day’s begun, for everyone, since the dawn of man.” I caught the tail end of their conversation and snickered quietly to myself. I watched as Andy came out of his office to save Erin. They were dating, as far as anyone knew, so it was kind of sweet that he was trying to save her. Andy succeeded and the two of them went back into Andy’s office. I started working on my client list for the day when Erin tried to get my attention. 

“(Y/N). (Y/N). Psst. (Y/N).” I turned around to see her frantically waving me over. I got up and walked over. 

“What’s….” I paused as I looked at the notebook in her hands, recognizing Robert’s handwriting on the page. “Jim. Pam.” I waved them over. 

“What is this?” Jim asked as he motioned to the list. 

“I don’t know. But I know that if Robert caught us with this, he’d be pissed.” I whispered. I kept looking at the door to Andy’s office, hoping that he could distract Robert long enough so we could figure this out. 

“(Y/N).” Jim whispered back as he turned the journal towards me. I cocked my head and gazed at the list of names that was written down both sides of the paper. 

“I don’t…” I glanced up at the office door again. “I don’t understand.” I looked up at Jim who just shook his head. 

“What are you looking at?” Dwight butt in. I quickly tried to quiet him down so we wouldn’t be caught. 

“It’s nothing.” Jim said equally as loud. 

“It can’t be nothing.” I shot a glare at Dwight. 

“Yeah, it can’t be nothing.” Phyllis backed him up. I sighed and gave in.

“It’s a list of our names, split into two columns.” The office broke into a commotion which I was able to quiet fairly easily. “Okay, just wait one second. I’ll copy it. Do you have a pen?” I turned to Erin who shook her head. 

“No. I’ll take a photo of it.” Jim started to pat down his pockets. “Dwight, can you throw me my phone?” Dwight chucked the phone at the wall. 

“Nice catch.” Dwight rolled his eyes. I panicked for a second while my eyes snapped back to the office door. 

“If he comes out, distract him.” Pam said. Chaos ensued as Robert came out of the office. I walked around the reception desk, desperately trying to think of something to distract him with. I was partly saved by Phyllis falling out of her chair. As Dwight and Robert went to help her up, Pam snuck behind me and put the notebook back where we had found it. Robert smiled at me as he passed. 

“(Y/N), I’d like to talk to you after lunch today.” Robert informed. I smiled at him and nodded. 

“Whatever you say boss.” I joked as he walked into the conference room. I visibly sagged as the door closed. 

“Okay, which side of the list am I on?” Dwight broke the tense silence. I shook my head and sat back my desk. 

“Left.” Jim read out. 

“Yes!” 

“Why are you….” I started to question. “How do you know?” I sat staring at Dwight for a second before we were interrupted by Andy asking what we were doing. Once we explained, he looked over at me with a worried expression. 

“Really great list of names guys. Thank you so much. Good work.” He said sarcastically. 

“That was in Robert’s notebook.” I informed him as I stood up. I took my place next to Andy before starting to nervously crack my knuckles. 

“He left it at reception and we photocopied it.” Pam finished. Andy gave me a look. I just shrugged at him.

“I don’t want any part of this.” Andy shook his head and started to head back into his office. I went to follow him, quietly debating on asking about how his meeting went. I sighed when I heard the rest of the office talking about how it might be a list of people Robert was going to fire. “How could you let them just do that?” I closed the door behind me and turned towards Andy with a frantic look on my face. 

“You think if I knew what was going on I would have let them continue?” I whisper yelled at him. “Andy, if I had any idea that was what they were going to do, I would have stopped them. I would have taken the notebook myself and given it right back to him!” Andy sat down in his chair heavily.

“You know him better than I do. What do you think it is about?” I sat across from him and shook my head. 

“I don’t know him all that well.” I grumbled. “If I had to guess, it’s a list of high performers and low performers. Jan had one. David Wallace had one. Jo had one. Hell Ryan had one. It would make sense for Robert to have one.” Andy nodded and we sat in silence for a little while. Another commotion in the office caused us to emerge from our little sanctuary. 

“This is if we were all on a cruise ship and had to divide into lifeboats. Here’s something. Who would eat who in an ‘Alive’ situation. No that can’t be it.” Dwight was rambling on and judging by Pam and Erin’s faces, he had been going on for a while. 

“I gotta say. Kinda seems like the left side’s the side to be on. Me, Jim, (Y/N), Dwight, Darryl.” Andy read off of the noteboard that Jim had set up. “No offense Pam.” If looks could kill, Pam would have killed Andy. I went back to my desk and tried to get some work done while everyone else continued to work on the list. An hour later, they were still at it. Just a little more quietly. 

“Did you guys figure it out?” Angela asked as she walked up to my desk. 

“We couldn’t crack it.” Andy said, defeated. I rolled my eyes. 

“Go in there and just ask the man.” Stanley finally spoke up. I looked up at him to see him nod at me. “Better yet send (Y/N). He likes her already. That makes her more likely to get an answer than any of us.” I shook my head. 

“No thanks.” 

“Why not (Y/N)?” The chorus took up fairly quickly.

“For that reason.” I shot back. “He likes me. I’m in his good graces. I’m not screwing with that.” I hissed and quickly went back to work. 

“Then you do it Andy.” Phyllis suggested. 

“He’ll know we looked at his private notebook.” Andy whined. I rolled my eyes. 

“Then say you saw the list by accident.” I retorted. Andy glared at the back of my head. 

“I’m already working on this Columbus Day thing for you guys and it’s starting to stack up. Feels like al ot. One thing at time.” Andy looked around the room desperately. “Come on, (Y/N). You really won’t talk to him?” I shook my head and mimed zipping my lips. Andy sighed in defeat before going to the conference door and knocking. When Andy came back out, he was upset and switched his name from one side of the list to the other. I raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything about it.

“Looks like I made the right choice.” I muttered. Dwight nodded in agreement. Ten minutes before lunch, Andy tried one last time to rally us around finding out about the list. 

“Okay. Robert’s in the annex. Everybody think quick. What do these groups have in common?” I saved my work and started the walk to the annex. 

“Maybe we’re supposed to do it with people in our group.” Meredith spoke up. Jim shook his head. “People in the other group.” I rolled my eyes and hung back to listen to the bickering. 

“Stanley, you do puzzles all day. What do we got?” Andy tried. I looked at Stanley and waited for his inevitable joke. 

“Well, you take the first letter from each name, assign it a number, add them all up and shove it up your butt!” I started to laugh and Stanley turned in his chair to give me a high five. 

“Thank you. A little much needed comic relief. But we really need to figure this out guys.” I briefly thought about taking pity on Andy but then decided against it. 

“Here’s how we find out.” Dwight stood up and I shook my head as I leaned against the door. “Let’s line up and compare the lines, see if we learn anything. Left-siders over here. Right-siders, line up over here. Face each other. Match it by height and relative weight. Let’s just size each other up here and left side of the list ....” There was a pause. Dwight was waving me over to stand between him and Jim so I just shook my head. Dwight shrugged before turning his attention back to the two lines. “ATTACK!” A couple of the people in line ran at each other. 

“Wait, wait, wait! Stop! Stop! Stop!” Jim tried to break up the fight before it started. “Will you stop?”

“Dwight!” Andy tried to reprimand. I pushed off the wall as the door to the annex opened and Robert walked in. He stood next to me and pointed at the chaos. I shook my head as the others started to realize that Robert was in the room. 

“I’d like to invite the following people to join me for lunch.” Robert took out his notebook and read from the list. “(Y/N), Jim, Dwight, Angela, Darryl, Kevin, Toby, Phyllis, and Oscar.” I nodded as I started towards my desk and grabbed my keys. “(Y/N), you’ll be riding with me.” I nodded once as I put my keys back on my desk and waited for Robert to grab his stuff from the conference room. It was a quiet journey to the parking lot and Robert waited until everyone else was in their cars. He opened the passenger door for me and waited until I had gotten in before closing it. “I believe I promised you a ride.” Robert slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. He looked at me with a smile as I grinned at the roar of the engine. 

“I believe you did.” I responded, showing him my own mile wide grin. Robert smirked at me before reversing the car and tearing out of the parking lot. I let out a small yell of excitement, my hand hanging off the side of the car and my hair being whipped around by the wind. Robert laughed as he watched my excitement of being in a beautiful, fast car. We pulled up to the restaurant and saw the others waiting for us in a small group. Robert slowed down as he pulled into the lot and found a spot. Taking a second, I fixed my hair and got out of the car. 

“I take it you enjoyed the ride.” Robert teased as he put his hand on the small of my back and led me to the others. I nodded and put my hand on his shoulder. 

“That was amazing! Thank you so much.” I gushed. Robert chuckled as we reached the group and led us to our table. We all took our seats and Robert held out the chair next to him for me. I sat down and thanked him before looking at the menu. I caught Jim’s eye and couldn’t help the blush that formed on my cheeks as he looked at me like he knew something was up. Lunch was full of conversation about the typical life of the office and moved towards the personal lives of the people at the table. By the time we had finished and were finishing our drinks, we were fully immersed in our personal lives. 

“Jim, your daughter, Cecilia. What does she think of the street?” Robert asked as he leaned back in his chair and put his arm on the back of mine. Jim’s eyes flitted to me before settling back on Robert. 

“Uh, the street?” He asked, clearly confused by the question. 

“Sesame street.” I bit my lip to keep from laughing. This man was full of surprises apparently. Robert looked at me briefly before looking around the table, slightly confused by the confused looks he was getting. 

“Oh. I didn’t know anybody called it…. She likes it a lot. She loves Elmo.” Jim finally answered. Robert chuckled as he took a drink of his beer. 

“Elmo. God’s sake. It’s the Elmo era.” I sent a confused look across the table at Jim.

“Right.” Jim looked back at me with an equally confused look. 

“Sesame Street was created to reflect the environment of the children watching it. Complete self-absorption of Elmo is brilliantly reflective of our time. Ours is a cultural ghetto.” He put his glass back on the table and shifted in his seat. 

“Yeah, she does like Elmo.” Jim muttered as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Everyone agreed around the table before Toby got up.

“I should not be here. I’m in the. I was in the wrong. I’m sorry.” He apologized as he left. “Just picture me back there. I was never here.” I covered my mouth with my hand as I held back a laugh. Robert caught the action and smiled as he picked up his glass to cover his own laugh. I caught Jim texting under the table and caught his look of panic at being caught. 

“Pam?” I mouthed and Jim nodded subtly. I nodded and turned my attention back to the rest of the group. 

“You know, I feel comfortable enough now to ask you this question.” Dwight turned towards Robert. “What made you pick this group?” Robert shrugged. 

“I just think you guys are winners and I wanted to have lunch with you.” Robert shrugged, which caused his hand at the back of my chair to brush against my back. There was a collective understanding from the table. 

“Well, what about the other guys?” Phyllis asked. I nodded as I shifted in my chair. 

“Losers.” Dwight cut off Robert. I watched the panicked expression fly across Robert’s face before he tried to compose himself. 

“No.” He said, trying to cut off the inherent new class system that Dwight seemed hellbent on imposing once we returned to the office. 

“Come on.” Dwight pushed. 

“Dwight.” I warned. Robert looked at me before turning back to Dwight.

“I don’t.” He was pulling at straws now, trying to find the control he had at the beginning of the conversation. “I don’t wanna say.” Dwight kept pushing him even though Robert was shaking his head, making me lean on the table to look Dwight in the eye. 

“Drop it Dwight. That’s enough.” I ground out. Robert’s hand subtly fell onto my upper back and I straightened up. 

“Come on (Y/N).” Dwight teased, sensing the power dynamic between Robert and I. “Let the man answer.” I sighed and squeezed my hands into fists as Dwight won. Robert started to play with the collar of my shirt as he grew nervous about his answer. 

“Ha.” He let out a brief laugh. “I guess I think they’re losers.” Catching my eye, Robert bit his bottom lip. 

“I knew it!” Dwight exclaimed, gaining a little attention from the rest of the restaurant. “Yes! Woo!” 

“Probably shouldn’t have said that.” Robert added, seeing the look on my face. Jim’s jaw dropped and he rapidly texted Pam again. Everyone started to filter out, soon just leaving Robert, Jim, and me at the table. “I really shouldn’t have said that.” Robert told us as he ran his hand down his face. Putting my hand on Robert’s shoulder, I looked at Jim and bit my lip. 

“I just want to let you know that when we get back, it’s going to be a mess. Anyone that was at this lunch, aside from the two of us, is going to go completely nuts and run with being in the ‘winners’ group.” Jim said as he stood up. Robert looked up at him. “You will probably have to fix whatever it is that you just created.” I squeezed Robert’s shoulder and raised my hand to say goodbye to Jim as he left. 

“Did I just create a massive problem?” Robert asked me. I thought about my answer carefully.

“You did.” I responded. Robert groaned before letting his head fall back. “But,” I squeezed his shoulder again to get his attention. His head lolled towards me. I made sure that he was focused on me. “But it also created an opportunity for you to show Dunder Mifflin just how well you can run it. It’s an opportunity for you to prove that you are right for CEO and that you know how to get people to work harder and better.” Robert lifted his head back up and nodded slowly. 

“So you are saying let this play out. Let them fight amongst themselves and step in before it goes too far.” Robert said as it finally clicked. “Then everyone will at least accept me as CEO.” I nodded as Robert took in this information. “Why didn’t I pick you to be manager?” He joked as he pulled out his wallet to pay the bill. I laughed and did the same. 

“Because I didn’t want to be a manager.” I said, putting down a $20 bill. I held up my hand when Robert started to protest. “It covers my food and Jim’s. It’s the least I can do.” Robert nodded as he stood up. 

“Why pay for Jim?” he asked as he helped me out of my seat and led me back out to his car. 

“Because we gave you the least amount of trouble and I know that when we get back he’s going to give you the least amount of trouble.” I shrugged as we neared the car. “Besides, it means he owes me and that might come in handy when there is an issue that Andy, you, or me can’t handle in the office.” Robert laughed as he dug his keys out of his pocket. 

“Well put.” His smile grew as he finally got them out. Turning towards me, he held out the keys. “Wanna drive?” I gasped as Robert let the key dangle in front of my face. 

“Are you serious?” I asked as I took them. Robert nodded and made his way over to the passenger’s seat. I took my place in the driver’s seat and put the key in ignition. “Are you serious about this?” Robert nodded again with a smile growing on his face. “Absolutely sure?” I asked again. Robert started to laugh. “I’m just making sure because once I drive this car I might always ask to drive it.” Robert put his hand on top of mine. 

“(Y/N), I wouldn’t have given you the keys if I wasn’t serious.” I smiled at him. “I especially wouldn’t have let you get in the driver’s seat.” Grinning like an idiot, I reversed out of the spot and took off down the road back to the office. We were still laughing and enjoying ourselves when we walked into the office. Robert automatically went to the conference room while I took my spot at my desk. 

“Well, that was certainly an odd lunch.” Jim said. I nodded and tried to keep my smile down. “Is everything alright?” I looked over at Pam, whose eyes were red. I mean she had been crying all day from hormones but it seemed like she had been crying pretty recently. The three of us tried to ignore the other members of the office who were already getting into a fight over the losers comment that Dwight no doubt had already been spreading around the office. I had finally had enough and got up to go into Andy’s office. I caught the tail end of his talking head. 

“Metaphorically, of course. But now, it is my job and my prob.” I raised my hand to knock on the door when it opened. “(Y/N)?” Andy took one look around the room and sighed before turning back to me. “Did you need something?” I gestured around the room. 

“I was just going to ask you to something about this.” Andy nodded and went to the conference room. He knocked on the door. Robert opened the door and looked between me and Andy. 

“Hi, Robert? Can you come out here please? It’s really important.” Andy asked as he stepped to the side so Robert could take his spot next to me. “Just wanted to clarify something. Some people here are under the misconception that some people may be considered, uh, let’s say top-tier and others would be second-tier.” Robert sent a look at me before shaking his head slowly. 

“I never said that.” He seemed to be debating his options while Andy took it the wrong way.

“Thank you. Great.” Robert held up a hand and Andy stopped. I bit my lip as I waited for Robert to prove me right. 

“I said winners and losers.” Robert’s eyes drifted over me and landed on Andy. “Is that what you’re talking about?” 

“Oh, that, it might…” Andy stammered. “That might actually be what I’m thinking of. Can you clarify that?”  Robert’s eyes landed on me again and I nodded to tell him to go ahead with what we had talked about at the restaurant. 

“Let me tell you some things I find productive.” Robert turned to face the office, confidence easing into his voice. “Positive reinforcement. Negative reinforcement. Honesty.” His eyes met mine again and I couldn’t keep the pride off my face as I watched him take control. “I’ll tell you some things I find unproductive. Constantly worrying about where you stand based on inscrutable social cues. And then, inevitably reframing it all in a reassuring way so that you can get to sleep at night. No, I do not believe that at all. If I invited you to lunch, I think you’re a winner. If I didn’t, I don’t. But I just met you all. Life is long, opinions change. Winners prove me right. Losers, prove me wrong.” He nodded and winked at me. I smirked at him as he went back into the conference room. 

“I guess that’s that.” Phyllis said as she went back to work. I nodded and went to sit back at desk. 

“No. No. No.” Andy gained my attention again. “(Y/N), the two of us are finally going clear this up.” 

“Andy. No.” I said. Andy took my arm and pulled towards the conference room. 

“We’re going in there.” He opened the door as I tugged my arm out of his grasp. 

“Fine. But I won’t like it.” I grumbled. We walked in and Robert looked up at us as if nothing was wrong. 

“I know that every time I talk to you things just seem to get worse. But, you don’t know these people and we do. And if we let you work with faulty information, well, then we’re not doing our jobs as managers. So, please take this pen and change your list.” Andy said. I backed up a couple steps and held up my hands. 

“I just want it on the record this is all Andy’s idea.” I said before miming zipping my lips. 

“I’m not going to change my list Andy.” Robert smirked at me. “And I don’t use ballpoint pens.” Andy sat down at the conference table while I took a seat behind him. 

“Well, then I will make a new list for you.” Andy grabbed a piece of paper and started a new list. “Stanley. You may think he’s a lazy grump, but did you know he has the most consistently high sales numbers of anyone in this office? And you may think he’s hard to love, but did you know that he’s in, not one, but two long-term relationships?” Robert looked over at me and I nodded. 

“I did not know about the sales figures.” He admitted. 

“Meredith Palmer. Supplier relations. The word no, not even in her vocabulary.” I bit back the smile that was threatening to spread across my face. Andy was finally coming into his own as manager and it was happening before my eyes. “And just to show you that I’m being fair. You had Gabe in the loser column. I think that is astute. Good call.” I chuckled as I nodded. “Pam, easily the most creative and kind person I have ever worked with.” I smiled and looked down at my lap. I could hear Jim and Dwight arguing in the office but I ignored them. “Erin Hannon, the receptionist and my closest confidant. A winner if there ever was one.” Looking back up at Robert, I noticed that he was also trying to keep the smile off of his face. 

“Are we done?” He asked when Andy had finally put down his pen. 

“Yes.” Andy got up to leave. “No! The Friday before Columbus Day, we’re gonna take a half-day, so that everyone can get a jump on the long weekend.” I watched Robert, waiting to see what he would say. 

“You want a three and a half-day weekend for Columbus Day?” Robert looked over at me. 

“We’ve always had them.” I stood up. “It just seemed like it would be good business to ask our new CEO before we just up and did it.” Andy nodded beside me. 

“And you two are aware that Columbus and his legions committed genocide against an entire civilization of Native Americans.” Robert continued. I nodded while Andy started to walk to the door. 

“Don’t care.” Andy left the room and Robert smiled at him as he left. I stood there trying not to laugh. 

“I knew that.” I offered as I stood in the doorway. Robert looked up at me. 

“Did you?” He smiled. “Did you really?”

“I was a history major.” I winked at him as I left the office. Everyone was packing up already and some people were already walking out. I smiled at Andy as I gathered up my belongings. “Nice work Andy. You’re going to be pretty good at this manager thing.” Andy smiled at me as he locked up his office. 

“Thanks (Y/N).” He patted my shoulder. “You’re going to be pretty good at this assistant manager thing.” I smiled as I turned off my computer. “By the way, he likes you too.” Andy winked at me as he left the office. I stood by my desk, mouth agape at Andy’s comment. 

“Everything alright (Y/N)?” I jumped when I heard Robert’s voice. I shook my head to clear it and finished up packing. 

“Yeah. Sorry. Andy just said something that threw me off.” I chuckled as I put my bag over my shoulder. “You did really well with that little speech.” I bumped his shoulder as we entered the elevator and started our descent. 

“I thought I might have messed it up when Andy walked into the conference room.” Robert admitted. I shook my head. 

“You did great. Everyone was pretty impressed even if they didn’t want to admit it.” I reassured him. Robert smiled and squeezed my hand. 

“Thank you (Y/N).” Robert said as we exited the elevator. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He kissed the back of my hand before heading to his car and taking off out of the parking lot. I got into my car and exited the parking lot myself. Getting home, I went through my normal evening routine. As I lay in bed that night, I couldn’t stop my mind from thinking about what Andy had said and what it could possibly mean. I fell asleep daydreaming about what I wished it would mean.

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Where the Crop Circles Grow ch.1

Summary: When things get out of hand at the Pines’ family farm, Ford asks an old college buddy to assist investigating anomalies and Stan hires a farmhand. Who knew asking for help would actually get you somewhere?

For @lemonfodrizzleart. Part of her Farmer AU and featuring her OC, Jackie Asante.

Ao3 link here.

ch.2

~~~~~~~~~~

“Jackie, was it?” Stan repeated as he rocked in his chair, the shade feeling comfortable with the warm summer’s day baking everything that dared to escape air conditioning.

“Yes, sir.” The woman repeated. Her ankles were crossed as she sat in her rocking chair, her hands on her lap. Nerves hindered her normal behavior; Never in a million years would she sit like this, unless she really wanted a job and wanted to impress her potential employer.

The man in a gray t-shirt (it might have been white at some point), dirty jeans, and boots raised an eyebrow at her and waved the response away with a strong hand. “First off, there’s no need for all that sir-stuff, okay? I ain’t that old.”

Jackie let out a good-natured snort and smiled more relaxed. “Okay.” She sat a little bit more relaxed, now one knee over the other, and she rocked a little in her blue-jeans, white t-shirt, and light-purple jacket, the bottoms of the side tied together and her sleeves rolled up.

Stan looked at her, reading her as if she was a book, and he instantly knew he would like her. Something in the sparkle in her dark eyes, something in the way she held herself up promised the whole world that she was way more capable than what people initially believed and she was going to rub it in their faces.

Okay, now that he got that out of the way, what was he supposed to do now? Sixer probably had a pamphlet full of things to do or a check-list in his brain of what to ask her, but that genius got distracted by some new freaky thing and ran off into the woods, but not without telling Stan to interview the potential farmhand. Why’d he have to do this? It was all Sixer’s idea. While a farmhand was probably a good idea, Stan would’ve hoped they could save the dough by making Ford and his friend from college work, but both brothers knew that wasn’t going to happen. Well, she was here. Might as well get her a drink.

“Want a soda or somethin’?” Stan asked as he stood and stretched his arms over his head, his shirt stretched tightly over his gut and strong chest.

Jackie shrugged with a smile and stood. “Sure, thanks.”

Stan waved towards himself casually, signalling her to follow him, and he led the way inside the house. Jackie followed him and allowed herself to take in the space without being too nosy. In front of the doorway was a big living room with a yellow-plaid couch and matching armchair, a card table, a wood-burning stove, and even a TV. An owl-themed tick-tock clock hooted the time (11:00am) with eleven wheezy hoots. Stan led the way to the left, the opposite direction of the stairs leading up to the second floor, and into the kitchen.

Jackie’s face flinched a little bit at the state of the room, a big mess all over the table and every square inch of counter decorated with books, food, and dirty dishes. Jackie stood at the doorway and couldn’t help but notice a picture of a family hanging by her head. A man with a straw hat and sunglasses stood tall and strong behind his family, while his wife sat with a set of twins in her arms, hugging them with a big smile. A third boy, about three years older than the twins, smiled in front of the father and besides the mother. 

“Well, this here’s the kitchen.” Stan narrated pointlessly to fill the air, stealing Jackie from her thoughts. His head was in the fridge but he soon emerged with two glass bottles of Pitt soda. He even popped one open for Jackie before giving it to her. “Livin’ room’s just by the door, then past the stairs is two bedrooms, one’s a master with a bathroom, and then upstairs is the attic and two more bedrooms.”

“Nice place.” Jackie complimented.

“Thanks.” Stan said after a sip of soda. “Pa left it to me and my brother. We got another brother, Shermie, but he’s workin’ for a bank in California. Got a kid now and everythin’.”

“Ah, somebody’s an uncle.” The dark-skinned woman commented with a smile.

Stan grinned proudly and seemed to have straightened his stance just a little bit. “Yup. Anyways, what made you wanna work here?”

Jackie shrugged. “I’ve always liked the fresh air n’ workin’ hard. My mama used to say sittin’ still’s a sin.”

Stan smiled in agreement. He was right; he liked this girl. “Okay, so what can you do?”

Jackie took a second to think of what she can do that applies to a farm. Really, in her mind the list kept growing. She couldn’t think of a single thing she couldn’t do if she really tried, so she gave him a sly smile and said, “Anythang.”

Stan barked a laugh and freed a finger from holding the bottle to point at her. “I like your style! Alright, so how much you want a month?”

“Eight-hundred.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think that’s a little high?” Not that he was worried; he liked to negotiate.

“Don’t you think I need enough to rent a place?” Jackie returned.

Stan snorted. “If you’re looking for a place to stay, we’ve got three… well, two bedrooms we aren’t usin’. You could stay with us rent-free for cheaper pay.”

“Well how much you willin’ to fork over?”

Stan grinned. Yup, he liked her. He wasn’t going to lose such a promising worker. “Five-hundred a month.”

“Deal.” Jackie held out a hand to shake.

Stan grasped it and shook. “Then you’re hired. You can have tomorrow to move in and…”

“No, I can start work tomorrow.” Jackie insisted. “Just give me this afternoon.”

Stan grinned. “Alright, fine. You’ll start first thing in the mornin’ tomorrow. You’ll know when. Go get what you need and I’ll show you your room and give you the full tour of the farm. There’s a stable and chicken coop and barn and fields full of work, as you saw comin’ in. You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Stan exited the kitchen, giving Jackie a good look at the dirty kitchen. She sneered playfully to herself, “I can see that,” and followed her new boss out of the house.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford was tired, but satisfied with his success. He collapsed into a rocking chair on the porch and glanced down at the photos in his hands; that polaroid Stanley got him for Hanukkah was being used well. It was so rare to get pictures of the floating eyes so crystal clear, mostly only seeing them at night, but these were lurking in the shadows of the overgrown trees and bush of the woods, and by sheer luck and perfect timing on Ford’s part, he got what he wanted.

The six-fingered investigator pulled out his journal from his messenger bag and bookmarked a page to fill out later with the photos. As he closed the book and became lost in thought at the sight of his golden handprint, the screen door opened and Stanley poked his head in. “Hey, dinnertime, nerd.”

“Coming,” Ford said as his brother left and he got to his feet, suddenly very hungry and ready to eat so he could finish his work for today.

While Stanley sat in a chair, rubbed his hands together, and smacked his lips at the table, Ford stood at the doorway with his jaw hanging like an executed criminal. Laid out on the big table in the kitchen was a plate full of fried chicken, collard greens, a skillet of cornbread, mashed potatoes with cheese, and unless Ford’s nose was playing tricks on him, there was something made of chocolate in the oven. Even more surprising than the mouth-watering meal was the stranger in the house. 

Untying a long apron, a dark-skinned woman with short black hair was standing by the hooks on the walls for keys and hats. She smiled as she hung her apron up and said, “Wash up, Mr. Pines. Oh, excuse me. Dr. Pines.” She added playfully.

Ford snorted. Apparently Stanley already told her about his twelve PhDs. “Please, call me Ford, ma’am.” He requested as he went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. “Let me guess… you decided to hire Ms. Jackie Asante, Knucklehead?”

“You make it sound like it’s a bad idea.” Stan quipped as Jackie sat in the chair on his right. He threw her a wink, which her eyes sparkled at.

“Quite the contrary, considering she clearly sees fit to celebrate Thanksgiving any day of the year.” Ford said as he sat in the chair across the table from his twin.

Jackie smiled with hot cheeks and shrugged. “Clearly you’ve been starving out here. Well, you can forget TV dinners and take-out for awhile. At least not while I’m breathing.”

“Now hold up, take-out’s delicious.” Stan defended as he brought a chicken leg up to his lip and bit down with a beautiful crunch. His eyes grew wide and he sagged in relief and delight. He munched on his chicken happily and managed to wheeze out between bites. “Fuck take-out.”

“Stanley,” Ford scolded lightly before trying his dinner, but he was amazing and started mumbling swears like a sailor.

Meanwhile, Jackie grinned proudly into her cup of water and started to cut up the cornbread. Maybe getting this job was a good idea after all.

[98prilla]

Turned

Next

Previous

AO3

...

“Well. Who might you be, little one?” he was in an alley, fists clenched, ready to fight. His clothes were torn and he was shaking from fear and cold. He’d been sure those vampires were going to kill him, but he was still going to go down clawing and scratching, before this strange, golden eyed man had appeared, two bodies at his feet where the vampires had just stood.

 He didn’t answer, just hissed and stepped further back, pressing his back against the brick of the alley, eyes darting for an escape route.

 “You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you? I can teach you how to use that fire. You won’t ever need to fear the dark again.” He hesitated, and the man's eyes flashed, as he knelt.

 “My name is Janus. If you would like, you may come with me for a safe place to spend the night and think over my offer. I promise no harm will come to you.” He shivered, something in that voice soothing and lulling in a way that set his alarm bells ringing frantically. But he was tired and cold and hungry and knew once the adrenaline left him, he’d crash and be completely vulnerable to anything passing by. So he scowled, but took Janus's hand.

 “Virgil.” He muttered, surprised but too tired to protest as Janus picked him up, humming softly as they walked, sending him to sleep near immediately.

…

He was concentrating. His tongue was peeking out of his mouth, his eyes narrowed as he used all his focus.

 “relax, Virgil. There is such a thing as too much concentration. You need to let go.” He let out a deep breath as Janus rested his hands on his shoulders from behind, a soothing, comforting weight.

 “what if I can’t? What if I’m no good? What if all of this was a waste of time?” he asked, hearing Janus's soft huff.

 “Thinking like that you’ll never get anywhere. It’s all about belief, Virgil. Close your eyes.” He did as he was told, Janus's voice honey smooth, the kind of sound he could drown in.

 “imagine a light. Feel the soft heat, the gentle glow. Imagine it sparking to life between your fingers, growing until it sits in your palm. Now. Take a deep breath in… out… and make it real.” The last few words were whispered in his ear, and he shivered at the strange pull he felt within him, tugging at something deep inside his bones.

 “open your eyes.” Janus's voice was hushed, and he blinked them open, gasping, staring at his palm. A soft, violet ball of light sat in his palm, giving off a faint warmth. “See? Easy as pie.” Janus murmured, the smirk clear in his voice as Virgil laughed, a short, relieved, disbelieving noise.

 His first spell. His first small, insignificant spell, but it was just the beginning of what Janus had to teach him, and he’d always been Janus's star pupil.

…

He was sparring with Remy. He’d started with hand to hand combat, suprising Remy with his speed and intuition. By the third lesson he'd managed to score a few fair hits on him, much to Remy’s chagrin.

 “Babe, you are holding those all wrong. Did you forget everything?” Remy sighed, coming over and repositioning his hands on the hilt of the daggers, so he wasn’t choking them in his hold.

 “It feels too loose. I’m gonna accidentally throw one or lose control and hurt you, or myself!” he replied, Remy sighing as he once again reached out and loosened his fingers on the hilts.

 “Too tight has the same effect as too loose. You’re more likely to cut yourself if you’re strangling them. It’s just like the magic, Vee, too much focus, more belief. Now, let’s fix that stance and get to work.”

…

He was on his first hunt. It was terrifying and exhilarating as they chased the werewolf through the woods, slipping through shadows, letting his magic do what it did best, feeding off of and into the others' in a symphony of power.

 It was his blade that killed the beast. A well timed, well aimed throw that had the dagger sinking straight into its heart a second before it pounced at Janus.

 It howled, in rage and pain, before falling to the ground, eyes glassy and dead.

 He’d felt frozen. He could hear Remy's low, impressed, whistle at his aim, Janus pulling himself out of his own shock and congratulating him, but he just felt numb, empty… horrified.

 Until Janus came and pulled him close, murmuring how it was all alright, he’d done so well, made him so proud, wearing and eating away at his own doubt until his head was filled with soft warmth and pure belief that what he had done was right.

 By the fifth kill he almost believed it himself. Still, every time, Janus coaxed him with those warm, mind numbing words until his own inner voice was silenced. Until he couldn’t dispute Janus if he tried, until anything Janus said was truth, and anything else didn’t matter.

…

It was the kid. It was the kid that finally broke him out of the spell woven around him by Janus’s words and sweet lies, shattered through his sense of complacency and comfort, forced him to confront the hideous, ugly truth of what he’d become.

 Because standing in that alley, the kid backed against the wall, was an all too familiar scene. It could have been a snapshot, really, except this time there were no vampires, this time he was the monster, and Janus would not swoop in to save this boy, Remy wouldn’t ease him to sleep when his own fears overwhelmed him, this time the child was the target, and he was the monster.

 He wouldn’t be the monster.

 So when the others reached the alley, they found nothing there. Not even him. He was back at the car, waiting, the kid long gone, for once Janus’s sweet talking came in handy, cause he’d known exactly what to say and how to say it to get the fae changeling to listen to him, to trust him, and that split second was all he needed to get them both out of there, and to get the child to the woods, where his own kind would quickly find him and return him home.

 Janus was furious. Of course he was. Virgil had broken every rule, Virgil had not only spared, but saved a non human, and Remy just watched the show with dark, judgmental eyes, never leaving him as Janus scolded and ranted, trying to fill his head with more lies, more whispers of how he, Janus, was the saviour, and Virgil should be grateful, and who else would have saved him off the streets, and he’d been doing so well, until he let his morals get in the way.

 “I understand if you couldn’t do it, but you should have at least kept it there until one of us arrived! You wouldn’t have even had to watch! You know I make it fast and painless.” It had bubbled over then.

 Because ‘it’ had been a scared child. ‘It’ hadn’t done anything, ‘it’ had been stolen from it’s own realm and thrust into the human one by enemies of its family or cruel, spiteful fae hoping to see some sport, and it hadn’t even been hurting anyone, simply trying to survive in a world not made for it!

 “You know the rules, Virgil. If you don’t like them, then leave.” Janus hissed, voice sharp and cold. Virgil knew what Janus had been expecting. He’d expected him to slink back to his room with a muttered whatever, expected him to immediately apologize, expected him to back down, like he always had on the rare occasion he asked too many questions for Janus’s liking. But he hadn’t.

 “Fine.” He’d said instead, pushing past Janus and up the stairs to his room. He grabbed his backpack, and started shoving his clothes and few personal belongings into it, his sketchbook/journal, his slim volume of sigils and runes, forgoing the few photos he had of the three of them together.

 “Perhaps I misheard you, Virgil. Surely you did not say fine.” He stood, glaring up at Janus, unwilling to break under that gaze, feeling the flicker of current running under his skin at the challenge.

 “I’m leaving. You… we’ve… gone too far. I will not keep doing this. I can’t.” He said simply. Janus stepped closer, and he didn’t back away, fisting his hands so they didn’t tremble.

 “You cannot leave the coven, Virgil.”

 “I’m not leaving the coven. I’m leaving you.” He hissed back, a bit of pride flickering at Janus’s flinch, before his face smoothed over, too even, his eyes glowing in the dim light.

 “Virgil. You cannot possibly think anyone else would want you. Be reasonable. You have nowhere else to go, and next time, I won’t be there to save you from the monsters in the dark.” He grit his teeth against the honeyed words, shoving them aside to deal with later, forcing out a sharp laugh instead, to hide the pain as he flipped up his hood.

 “See, that’s the cool thing, Jan. I don’t need you, anymore. I don’t need you to save me from the shadows. You taught me how to defend myself. I have power now. And I refuse to use it like you, anymore. Now. I am going to leave, so unless you wanna stop me, get out of my way.” He’d growled, lightning crackling across his fingers, staring Janus down, who looked stricken, smaller and unsure, for the first time ever, which is maybe how Virgil found the strength to step around him and go back down the stairs, ignoring the questions and accusations from Remy as he opened the door and slipped out into the shadows, where no one would be able to follow.

 He hadn’t seen either of them since, and he’d thanked his lucky stars for it.

…

 “Virgil!” Patton called after him, trying to follow, but Roman stopped him with a hand on his arm.

 “Pat. Did you hear what Remy called him?” Roman asked, voice slightly strained. Even Logan looked a bit pale as he thought over the implications, but Patton just shook his head.

 “I heard. I know who Anxiety is as well as you all. But there hasn’t been any sighting of him for years, which backs up what Virgil said. He’s not like that, anymore. He would never hurt us, Ro. He spent the night talking me down from a panic attack and cuddling me to keep from having another one. That’s not someone who is going to hurt me!” Patton protested, pulling away from Roman, a hurt, angry expression on his face.

 “Patton-“

 “He stopped Remy from killing me with some spell! All he had to do was duck out of the way, and instead he threw himself on top of me and used magic to block the way until Remy agreed not to harm anyone who entered. If you think after everything, he’s still that same person-“

 “Patton. We don’t.” Logan said, gentle but firm, turning Patton to face him. “but there are other factors to consider before rushing after him. He needs space, to calm down. He’ll come to us when he’s ready to talk about it. Forcing the story out of him would do more harm than good, given his extremely negative reaction to the name.” Patton’s shoulders slumped, and he fell against Logan, who, startled, caught him in a hug.

 “I just hate seeing him hurt. And afraid… of us.” Logan sighed, cautiously embracing Patton.

 “I know. You worry about him almost as much as he worries about you.” Patton chuckled weakly, pulling back and swiping his eyes.

 “I worry plenty about you two, too, y’know.”

 “We know, Pat. We’ll give him a day. If he doesn’t come out on his own by then, we’ll go check on him.” Roman said, giving Patton a quick hug before heading into the living room, no doubt to turn on some Disney movie or other to try and quell his own worries.

 “ok.” Patton glanced down the hallway once more, taking a seat across from it, glancing up every few moments, hopeful that Virgil’s lanky silhouette would come striding out of his room at any moment.

 Logan adjusted his glasses, letting his own worried gaze shift down the hall. It was going to be a long day of waiting. He hoped Virgil would come out sooner rather than later, hoped he knew they would be understanding, but something hard in his stomach told him otherwise. He shook his head and sat down, trying to focus on his reading, failing spectacularly.

[twrites1]

“Another Woman’s Treasure”

Sam threw the glass of whiskey back, hissing at the stinging sensation as he sat it back on the tray, asking for another refill. Tonight, he wasn’t in the mood for this engagement party. He looked over to his future wife, a spoiled brat indeed. She started off as a good friend of the family, someone who he didn’t see more than that but fell victim of their mothers interference and nagging. He wasn’t going to engage into the foolery, but he prematurely proposed to her under the influence of alcohol and pure horniness. He wasn’t going to lie, he tried to get out of it but only gave up the fight due to belief that it wouldn’t be that bad. She wasn’t a bad girl, but there just wasn’t no romantic feelings nor love there. It was more of a long distance friendship type of love but even that was a reach.

“Here you go, Mr. Evans.”

Sam came out of his thoughts when the woman appeared with him a new drink, downing that immediately and sat it on the tray before picking up the second glass as well. He looked at her and smiled, “Keep them coming, sweetheart.”

“Will do.”

He turned his attention back to the guest, who were mingling, when he caught his mother’s eyes. He forced a smile once she sent one to him, she was his mother, so she probably knew that it wasn’t a real one but then again, she had been busying herself with her future daughter in law and the wedding planning. This was going to be a long night. Feeling someone come beside him, he knew who it was without even looking, “I’m surprised you showed up, Sarah.”

“Almost didn’t.” The woman spoke as she moved her straight brunette hair back behind her right ear, “It’s not too late to call this sham off because you and I both know she’s not the one for you and you’re definitely not in love like you’re pretending to be.”

“How you know I‘m not?”

“Please Sam.” His sister said without another fit of explanation, picking up the champagne flute and thanking the man with a smile before she began to scan the room, “How they are isn’t even close to how we are. That bitch and her family are no good.”

“Don’t be like that. She’s a sweet girl.”

“If that lie doesn’t keep you up at night, why should it for me?” Sarah chuckled as she pressed her lips against the glass, shaking her head before walking off, “Mark my words, this thing won’t go beyond this tonight. Just wait, big brother.”

Back in the kitchen, the caterers were busing around getting trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres out for the crowd in their normal routine, but for some reason tonight, they were a tad bit more busier with the alcoholic drinks going out.

“Who’s in charge?”

The woman, who sitting the glasses on the tray for one of the severs, turned her head towards the entrance door of the kitchen, raising a brow at the woman, “I am.”

The rich woman stared at the girl, giving a cold glare for no apparent reason other than the fact that she could, “Don’t send anymore appetizers out. The main dishes need to be prepped and out in the next thirty minutes. No guest should have anything cold on their plate.”

“Do I hear a please in there? Matter of fact your rudeness needs to be cut from the tone you miserable bit-” A boy mumbled, causing the woman next to him to distinctly step on his foot, prompting him to speak in the full volume of his voice, “Ouch Mercedes.”

Mercedes gave him a look before her eyes turned back to the woman, giving her a respectful nod. Usually she didn’t take anyone talking to her in the way she did but her boss told her that this particular job tonight, she needed to bite her tongue because they were all going to get a healthy bump in their paycheck. She didn’t put money before verbal aggression but in this case, she would because she needed it.

“Miserable Bitch.” He said loudly once the woman was out of sight, “That’s what I was trying to call that hag. I try to respect my elders and never call women out of their name but she’s been pushing it all night. And plus, she’s acting like she’s the one who’s paying us.”

“I know, we only have a few more hours.” Mercedes reassured the youngest of the staff, watching as he huffed out before picking up the tray and heading back out, “Hang in there baby.”

Zachary, Mercedes’ best friend and colleague, met him coming into the kitchen, heading over to her, “All I know is that we better be getting a good bonus because I have bit my tongue so much, I might have to go to the ER.”

Mercedes gave him a sympathetic look before setting the glasses on two more trays, “Yeah, I’m about ready to go at this point, but I need the check bad this month. Things haven’t been good.”

“I know you don’t want to ask your family, but you know you have me and Kels, right? Put the pride aside, we got you.”

“I know.” She told him with a small frown, “I’m grateful but I can’t because you guys have your own family.”

“Shut the hell up with all that.” Zachary said in a way he told her all the time when he saw her stressed and refused help. Him and Mercedes have been friends since they were in pampers, and every since he has known her, she has always had to stubborn, independent stance within herself. He hated it, “We got you. End of discussion. What’s ours is yours, you know that. Now give me the damn tray.”

“Yes sir.” Mercedes mumbled as she handed one off to him then the other server, watching as the walked out.

The next hour had went by without a hitch, thankfully, for the the crew. Mercedes was leaned against the wall, watching as the speeches were made and the interactions between the couple. Usually, after dinner was served, this was her favorite part. Seeing the love between others always brought a smile to her face, but tonight, something felt so inorganic this time around. The groom for one seemed uninterested in everything, and the bride was too busy showing off her ring to everyone more than anything else. Most couples couldn’t be apart from one another on this joyous occasion. It just felt wrong. Hearing the applauses, she saw the groom’s sister come and announce that she had a special video for the couple.

What started off as innocent pictures of them from their childhood, turned into something unimaginable. Mercedes’ mouth went wide as she stared in horror at the video, her eyes traveling to find to Zachary, who was standing next to her in the same position, then the groom, who’s face was unreadable.

You couldn’t hear a pin drop when the video finally shut off. On it was photos of the bride, which looked taken by a PI, making out with some man numerous times that was obviously not her fiancé. What made it even worse was that the same man was here, due to the picture of her dressed in what she was now. Lily, Sam’s fiancée, looked at him in horror, making her way to him, “Babe...it’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh, it is.” Sam glared at her before moving away, a mixture of joy, anguish, and pity in the eyes of the guest, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear, “Party’s over. Engagement’s off. Everyone have a great night.”

Mercedes watched as he walked out the room, his ex-fiancé and their parents following closely behind as well. The mumblings about what just happened rose amongst the guest as the started to file out of the venue. She came out of her thoughts when she heard one of her colleagues speak.

“Guess it’s a short night for us. Let’s get to packing up.”

Mercedes started to head to the back, busing herself to get things in order so they could leave expeditiously and that they did within the hour. Her and Zachary were the only ones left, finishing up the last of the kitchen, which wasn’t much.

Zachary looked at his watch and eyes went wide, “Shit, Kelsey’s going to kill me. I was so wrapped in this drama.”

“Go, I can manage the rest.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Zachary kissed her on her forehead before heading out, “I love you.”

“Tell her I said hi.” She called after him, shaking her head when he told her he would and was going to tell about her situation. She shook her head as she moved the dolly towards the counter. Turning back around, she gasped when she ran into someone, eyes going up and seeing it was the man of the night, “I’m sorry, Mr. Evans.”

“Sam, just call me Sam and there’s no need to apologize.” Sam told her, making his way to the other side of the counter, grabbing a paper towel to dry his hands. Truthfully, Sam was hoping that everyone was gone and had accidentally left a bottle of anything brown down there.

Mercedes eyed him carefully before gathering up the cork screws and placing them in the bag.

Sam’s attention was on her. Seeing the uniform, he took obvious note that she was part of the catering crew. He had used them last year but has never seen her before, “I bet this was one of the most entertaining receptions you’ve ever worked.”

“Nothing’s entertaining about what happened.” Mercedes told the man truthfully as she threw the unusable cling wrap in the trash, “You didn’t deserve that.”

Sam watched her movements closely, seeing her at ease as she quickly straighten up the counter. She then moved over to grab the leftover, never opened champagne bottles, stopping her, “Leave one.”

Mercedes glanced at him and nodded, sitting one of the bottles down before she grabbed four, a talent in Sam’s eyes, and placed them in the box.

Sam grabbed two champagne flutes from behind him, sitting them on the counter before swooping the bottle up. He opened the top, somehow avoiding the dramatic spill that comes along with it and poured the liquid into the flutes. He looked at Mercedes once she turned back around, picking up one and gesturing to her, “Have a drink with me.”

“Mr. Eva-urm, Sam.” She corrected as she shook her head, refusing the drink, “I’m still at work.”

“I’ll handle Laura if she so happens to pop up.” He sent her a lopsided grin in reference to her boss, pleading eyes, “Please, for a poor man whose heart just got broken.”

Mercedes pursed her lips and raised a brow, muttering and not realizing that she was that loud when she spoke, “You’re not torn up about it like one would expect.”

Guilty. Sam stared at her seriously, speaking honestly, “Maybe I just want to have a drink with the one genuine, beautiful soul I have met tonight. Who, may I add, have been nothing but nice and professional for the past ten minutes. Hard work pays off and this is your pay off.”

Mercedes rolled her eyes at the guilt trip, mumbling but not admitting how his words made her feel some type of way, “Fine.”

Sam smiled triumphantly as she took the flute, clinking his glass again hers before moving back and taking a sip.

Mercedes did the same, the bubbling alcohol stinging as it went down her throat. To be honest, she wasn’t much of a drinker but she would indulge in the kindness of the client.

“Not a drinker, aye?” Sam took note from the features on her face, laughing a bit when she shook her head and sat the glass down.

“Far form it.” She managed to get out with a snort.

“Maybe I should’ve ask if you’re even old to drink.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Mercedes laughed a bit before resuming back to her work, “I’m old enough to rent a car then add seven more years.”

“Wow.” Was all he said, causing the woman to look at him with a raised brow, he shook his head, “A good wow.”

Mercedes smiled as she leaned against the counter, “Is there anything...” she stopped when she heard her phone ring, grabbing from her pocket to look at the screen, “Excuse me for a second.”

Sam watched as she left out, his eyes wandering over to the platters that was wrapped up. He took a seat and grabbed one, placing it in his lap and picking one. He haven’t even gotten a chance to eat due to all the drama that went on. He powered through three of the delicious croissant sandwiches when Mercedes came, her phone call taking a littler longer than expected, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, my babysitter was just checking in.” She said absently as she looked at him, seeing the surprised look on his face puzzled her, “What?”

“You have a kid?”

“Kids. Six month old twin girls, Bronx and Brooklynn.”

Sam caught her smile get bigger at the mention of her daughters, watching as she showed him her lock screen. Present were two brown skinned, hazel doe-eyed, chubby cheeked little girls giving gummy smiles, “They’re beautiful.” Sam complimented, his eyes going back to her to ask a question, “Is the father in the picture...oh shit, I’m just all in your business, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Mercedes giggled as tucked her phone back into her pocket, going back over to finish stacking the things on the dolly, “Their father was a cheating bastard. Slept with someone, who I thought was my friend, during my whole pregnancy and ended up getting her pregnant. He’s with her now, raising their child and don’t acknowledge my girls.”

“That’s....that’s fucked up.” Sam said bluntly, a frown plastered on his face. He had known this woman all of twenty minutes and was pissed that anyone would treat her and her innocent children like that.

Mercedes shrugged as she moved around, placing a few napkins in front of him so he can use, “It is what it is. I didn’t and will never dwell on it. I’m just trying to make a living for me and my babies. It’s hard, but I’m doing what I need to do.”

“And from what I can tell, you’re doing a hell of a job. Seriously. I commend you for it because having a child, let alone twins, is a lot.“

Mercedes smiled at him, “Thank you.”

Before Sam could respond and ask her some more about herself, he heard the sound of heels clicking against the hardwood, a familiar face appearing as her voice ran out.

“Mercedes, you were suppose to check in thirty minutes ago.” Laura stopped when she noticed that Sam was in the kitchen too, “Oh, Mr. Evans, I didn’t know you were in here. Hopefully Mercedes wasn’t bothering you.”

“She wasn’t.” Sam spoke before Mercedes could, giving the woman a pointed look, “Matter of fact, I was the one bothering her with my venting and held her up.”

“Oh, well that’s quite alright.” She waved off, earning a side eye from Mercedes, “I’m sorry for tonight.”

“Don’t be.” He pulled an envelope from inside of his suit jacket, handing it over to her, “Here’s the rest of your payment, plus some extra for the staff for the snobbish attitudes that they may have encountered from her side.”

“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Evans. Thank you.” Laura smiled at him before her eyes darted to Mercedes then him again, “And I’m sorry once more, but I kind of need my employee back so we can get going.”

“No, it’s okay.” He pushed off the counter, grabbing the platter and champagne to take with him, giving Mercedes a smile, “Thank you for being a listening ear and feeding my stomach.”

“It wasn’t a problem. You try to have a wonderful rest of the night, Mr. Evans.”

“I kind of already did talking to you.” Sam sent her a wink before heading out, leaving the two women alone.

Laura’s eyes back to Mercedes with a raised brow, opening her mouth for a question but Mercedes beat her to it.

“I’m done in here.” She grabbed the dolly and headed out, trying to avoid any questions that the woman may have had for her.

Mercedes mumbled as she headed through the crowded grocery store, cursing at there literally being no baskets left. She didn’t know why she just didn’t do this earlier and was regretting not bringing the stroller with her, prematurely thinking that she would’ve had a basket for the two girls occupying both sides of her hips. She sighed as she looked at them, “Looks like Mommy is going to have to just come back tomorrow.”

“Or not.” A voice came behind her, causing the woman with the children to whip around, familiar green eyes staring back at her with a smile, “You can have mine.”

Mercedes smiled at the man, who she last saw a month ago at his disastrous party, “Sam, hi.”

“Hi.” He had saw her when she first came in. He knew that the baskets were gone because he had grabbed the last one, “It’s good to see you.”

“You too and you don’t have to give me your basket. I’m sure you have things to get too.” She chuckled softly as one of her antsy daughter’s, Bronx, started to wiggle in her arms.

“It’s quite alright, you obviously need it more.” He commented as he looked at the little girls, who were a tad bit older from the picture he saw last month, “So, these are the little cherubs that were on your lock screen?”

“Yes, the one who is trying to escape my arm is Bronx and the always so calm one on my left is Brooklynn.” She watched as Bronx stared at the man curiously, a smile breaking out of her face as she leaned out of her mother’s arm for him, catching the woman by surprise. She never did that for anyone, especially strangers.

“May I?” Sam asked first, watching as the mother nodded before he picked her up, “Hey there cutie pie.”

Mercedes felt sudden relief of the extra weight being lifted but abandonment at the same time. She adjusted Brooklyn on her hip, shaking her head, “She usually doesn’t like people.”

“Guess I’m an exception.” Sam laughed as his eyes went back to hers, “But really, the basket, you can have. I can wait.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Thank you.” She told the man, shaking her head, “I’m sorry, how rude of me, how have you been?”

“Good.” He responded as he walked forward a bit, sitting the little girl in the seat part of the basket, watching as a pout took over her lips but she didn’t cry. He watched as Mercedes placed Brooklyn in there as well, thankful that this was the basket that was capable of sitting them both, “I’m going to be honest here, I’m glad I ran into you because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night.”

The keys that occupied her hand slipped but Sam was quicker, catching them before they fell to the ground. Her eyes were shocked at the admission, not knowing what to say, “Huh?”

Sam knew he caught her off guard but it was nothing but the truth. That night, Mercedes had made it worth the pretense of it all and he was really grateful that it turned out the way it did. Her presence drew him to her and he knew exactly why. This woman, only talking to her for the short amount of time he did, was the one. Something he didn’t feel with any of his exes, “I fought for a whole month on whether to call Laura and ask for your number. Funny enough, today was going to be the day I did but look at fate interfering. I want to ask if you would like to go out on a date sometime.”

Mercedes looked at him in surprise at his words, not believing that this was happening, “Me?”

“Yes you.”

Mercedes gave him a skeptical stare, shaking her head, still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that this man was asking her out, “You can have any girl you want. You’re in your prime, newly single, handsome, have a great job, and no children. I’m a single mother with twins, who gets paid minimal wage. Why?”

“Why not?” Sam watched as she ducked her head shyly, a smile tugging on his lips when he saw the realization on her face that she didn’t have a comeback, “One thing you should know about me, I’m not like them. You’re beautiful, smart, caring, real, hardworking and a great mother to your daughters. What more can a guy ask for?”

Mercedes lifted her head. No man, besides her father, had spoken so highly of her. And here he was. After that night, he left an impression on her and it was more than the act of him being so nonchalant about being cheated on. He was right, he wasn’t like anybody there, snotty, nor belittled the staff, he treated her and she would guess everyone else as equals. That’s what drew her to him, but she didn’t act on it for the simple fact that he probably wouldn’t see her in a romantic way. Deading that idea that night, she went on about her life, until those thoughts and feelings she had resurfaced in this moment. The sincerity in his voice and eyes was all she needed to know that he was serious and because of that, she was willing to give him a chance, “Okay.”

The smile spread so wide on the man’s lips, repeating her words, “Okay.”

Mercedes couldn’t help the heat of cheeks as she stared underneath his gaze, the only thing breaking their trance was her daughter reaching over and throwing the chips down, “Bronx, no.”

The little girl looked at her and giggled, causing Sam to do so as well as he picked it up and placing it back on the shelf, “How about this count as a predate? While we’re shopping, we’ll get to know each other better. What’d you say?”

The smile couldn’t leave Mercedes’ face if she wanted it to, “I’d like that.”

As she shopped, Sam stayed beside her every step of the way doing exactly what he intended to do. Get to know her and vice versa. This grocery trip was full of information and laughter between the two, and the unnecessary need for ease because it was already there.

[sprnklersplashes]

heart of stone (14/?)

AO3

It’s a little after 10 when Damian comes home, his face paint starting to rub off and his puffed shirt untucked from his pants. While the bus is almost deserted at this hour, tonight it was half full, mostly consisting of drunk college students (and some high schoolers) on their way to or back from some party and reeking of alcohol. Damian had sat at the front the whole journey, his bag held between his legs and his eyes down. Maybe he should reconsider his stance on getting his licence.

When he opens the door, it’s to the sight of his mom standing in the hallway with their trick or treat bowl in her hand, her eyes shooting upwards when she sees her son on the doorstep rather than some neighbourhood kids. She looks a little disappointed too. She does love handing out candy, and fawning over every single costume, no matter how scrappy it looks. It’s her little Halloween tradition.

“Damian,” she greets. “You’re back.”

“Yep,” he replies, pulling off his coat and running his fingers through his hair. His mom nods, slightly speechless, but smiling, nonetheless. Damian peers into the bowl of treats in her hands. “Did we have much success tonight?”

“Oh, loads,” he says, holding the bowl out to her. He picks up a funsize KitKat and a lollipop, slipping the former into his pocket and the latter into his mouth. It’s one of those dark ones that’ll turn his tongue blue. “Sometimes I thought it would have been easier to just hang out at the door and wait for people. I had barely sat down before another one showed up.”

“Well, that may be because everyone knew you were making your famous death by chocolate this year,” he reminds her, poking their finger at his chest. His mom has a bit of a reputation in all circles for being a master baker. School fundraisers, boy scout meetings, weddings, funerals, she bakes for all of them and she bakes to perfection. Damian and his sisters have all insisted she go on some big baking competition and win them all a big juicy cheque. “Speaking of which…”

“Yes, your slice is in the fridge,” she tells him, caressing his cheek. She can barely ask if he has room for it before he speeds off to the kitchen, leaving her chuckling behind him. Cara and Maisie are sitting at the kitchen table, Maisie with a tutu attached to her skeleton outfit, Cara with a pirate’s hat beside her and a mountain of candy sits between them.

“Oh, someone had a good night,” he comments, giving Maisie a fright. “You two little terrors raid the neighbourhood?”

“Yep,” Maisie chirps. “Everyone gave us so much stuff! Mrs Jenkins at number 17 even gave us a whole packet of gummy worms each!”

“And where’s mine?” he asks.

“Mom says you got food at your school thing,” Cara reminds him, her eyebrow raised. She has far too much attitude for a 10 year old. He doesn’t mean to sound like a boomer, but he thinks kids these days grow up far too quickly. He knows that Cara may be on her last years of trick-or-treating and that she’s desperate to go out to parties with the big kids. “So she said you didn’t need to save you any.”

“I did indeed get food at my school thing,” he tells her, closing the fridge door with his cake in hand. “Thank you very much, little miss.” She rolls her eyes, but he catches her smile as he sits down beside them. “So, spill, I want to hear everything.”

“It was fun,” Maisie says. “We went all around this block and then we went to the next block. Just a little bit though, because we were worried about getting lost.”

“I wasn’t,” Cara says, an edge in her voice. “Damian and I used to trick or treat on that block all the time.”

“Yeah but we had Janis too,” he reminds her, watching her sink back in her chair. “And even then we didn’t do every house.” He loves Cara with every bone in his body, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t willing to put her in her place. That no matter how big she gets; attitude doesn’t fly in this house. He dreads to think what will happen when he leaves and his mom is left with her. Hopefully, she’ll have mellowed out by then.

“Did you see Janis at your school thing?” Maisie asks, pushing her candy around the table. It’s an innocent question, a sweet one even, born out of genuine curiosity and his sister’s ever-growing love for Janis. And it’s an easy answer too. But none of that means he’s not uncomfortable with it.

“Yeah I did,” he replies.

“So she’s finished with hospital now?” she asks again and Cara visibly stiffens beside her. After telling his mom, they both agreed to give the girls slightly different versions, based on what they can handle. All Maisie knows is that Janis had to go to hospital for a while and that she lost her hair. Cara is the only one of them who knows about ‘the C word’.

“Not quite yet,” he tells her. “She will be soon though. But her doctor let her come out for a few hours to hang with us.”

“Oh,” she says. She tosses a candy bar between her hands, her expression thoughtful. “Well, that’s good. Could you give her this when you see her?” She pushes the bar across the table. It’s big, probably the biggest one she has, packed with caramel, according to the wrapper. And Maisie loves caramel. His breath catches as emotion stirs in him, pride swelling in his chest. “Just in case she needs to be cheered up.”

“Thanks, Maise,” he tells her. “Next time I see her, I’ll give it to her.” His sister smiles at his assurance and goes back to sorting through her own loot. Cara avoids his gaze, her chest rising and falling heavily and her fists clenched on the table.

“And… how is she?” she finally asks. “Janis, I mean.” He doesn’t miss the way her voice cracks when she asks, the anxiety seeping into her words, and he places his hand over hers.

“She’s good.” He doesn’t get why they words feel so clumsy in his mouth, because they’re the truth. He saw it with his own eyes, felt it when she jumped on him and wrapped him in one of those tighter than tight hugs. He could feel the strength in her body. She’s good. She looked good, not just costume wise (although he did like her minimal approach). She looked healthy. Ish. Not like she used to, but that’s normal. Even if her skin was a little paler than he remembered it, or the fact that she’s far thinner than she used to be. And she had to zip up her jacket as much as she could, and even then she was still shivering, but that’s fine. And as the night went on, she did spend more and more time leaning either him or Cady, but that’s normal. They’re all side effects, and they all mean that the treatment’s working. And once they get out on the other side of it, they’ll be fine.

He blinks, pulling himself out of whatever wormhole he just fell down. There’s a slight ringing in his head from it and he tries to shake it off, Cara and Maisie both eyeing him with concern.

“Janis is great,” he tells them firmly. He takes Cara back a little. He takes a deep breath in, his surroundings settling and grounding around him. “Uh, hey, you guys have a lot of candy here. How about we see if we can wrestle the remote from Mom and watch Halloweentown?”

“For real?” Cara asks, her face breaking out into a smile. “Okay, cool! I think Mom’s nearly done with her thing anyway. I’ll go check.”

“Meanwhile I’ll go change into something more comfy and movie-watchy,” he says, stretching as she stands. She nods, excitement sparking in her eyes, before she sets off down the hallway. Damian laughs and helps Maisie pile everything into two big bowls, planning to fit them on either side of him so that the girls can snack as they wish. Before he goes, he picks up the candy bar from the table and taps her nose with it, a soft giggle escaping her mouth as he does.

“And don’t you worry,” he tells her. “I’ll get this to Janis as soon as I can.”

“Can she come trick or treating with us next year?” she asks. “It’s no fun without her.”

He blinks at her and suddenly, the smile on his face feels fake somehow. Hollow. Like it’s hiding something, even though he doesn’t know what.

“She’d love that,” he tells her. “Now come on, this movie isn’t going to watch itself.” He runs upstairs to change, pulling on a pair of pyjama pants and his Halloween sweater, the comfort a treat after a day of walking around in character shoes. The photo sits in their message log, not changing no matter how long he looks at it. He makes an effort to be okay with it, really, knowing that right now there are any number of reasons she might not be looking at her phone, and that none of them have to be bad. She always does answer, nine times out of ten with a perfectly reasonable explanation like she was asleep, so why should this be any different? The day probably tired her out, that’s all.

It’s only when he realises five minutes have passed that he shoves his phone in his pocket, shaking his head like that will straighten everything going on inside.

“You’re losing it Hubbard,” he mutters to himself. And for the one who normally has it, that’s bad. He takes a deep breath in, and then another one, until he feels more like himself again, and heads downstairs.

Much as he appreciates how important what Janis is doing is, he also can’t help wishing they could just skip past all of it to the part where she’s better and they’re normal again.

It’s the day after Halloween when Janis makes a realisation. She’s sitting in her bed, shaking off the last of what she likes to call a “chemo hangover” when she notices something in the reflection of her phone. She doesn’t know how she hasn’t noticed it before, nor does she know how long it’s been there for, but now that she’s seen it, she can’t unsee it, especially not when she gets up and looks in the mirror to take a better look.

Her eyebrows are gone. Mostly. One’s half-gone, one’s about three quarters. Like a plucking job gone terribly wrong. And she managed to not notice until right now.

It makes sense. Her hair fell out, so the logical thing should be that her eyebrows disappear. Her eyelashes are gone too, most of them anyway. It’s normal, it’s obvious, and she should have worked out that this would happen back when she shaved her head. Maybe she should have went for the eyebrows too and plucked at her eyelashes. Just got it over with in one fell swoop.

She looks weird. Again, that’s news to no-one, but she does. She’d just started getting used to the being bald thing and the fact she looks like a skeleton now. But this is just something else on top of that and it feels like she’s taken a thousand steps back with it. All the way back to square one. And somehow it feels weirder. People notice losing weight and the beanie in place of her hair. People don’t notice her now having eyebrows until they get close enough and maybe even then it might escape their notice.

So maybe with that logic, she shouldn’t worry so much about it?

Nice try, she tells herself, flopping back down on the bed again. That turns out to be a mistake, as black spots dance before her eyes or a few seconds and the room seems to tilt and slide down to one side. It’s only after she squeezes her eyes closed and shakes her head for a bit that it subsides. Clearly, she’s not quite shaken off that last round yet.

When she opens her eyes, she nearly jumps right off the bed. Cassie, that woman from the Cancer Fund, is standing in the doorway, her mouth hanging in a miniature ‘oh’ and her hand half extended towards her. Relief floods her face as she power walks towards her bed, apparently oblivious to the heart attack that she just gave her.

“Oh are you okay, hon?” she asks her.

“Yeah I’m okay,” she sighs, shifting just enough to be out of her reach. Something about her means Janis want those peach-painted nails nowhere near her. Cassie either manages to pick up on that or hangs back of her own accord, since she simply sits down beside her, her hands folded in her lap.

“You left the door open, and I was going to knock, but then I saw you-”

“I’m fine,” she says firmly, pressing her hands into the mattress. She takes a deep breath and manages to not scowl at her, which is an achievement by her standards given how awkward she feels and her overall discomfort around her. Never mind that she was kind of dealing with something before she walked in. “Um… what’s up?”

“I just wanted to check you’re all ready for this Saturday?” she asks. “For the photography project.”

“Yeah I know that’s Saturday.” In the very, very back of Janis’ mind she does think that maybe, a little bit, she’s being slightly too gruff here. Especially since the woman’s only trying to help out here. “Yeah, I’m all set. My friends are coming. Well, my friend and my girlfriend.”

“Oh that’s great,” she says. “So it starts at 12:30, but you might want to get your friends around a bit before that just to make sure everything’s going to be set up in time. And the photographer’s said that you can have a little play around with the camera first, just so you can see how it all works. Although something tells me you’d be a natural with one of those anyway.”

“Well I wouldn’t say a natural,” she says with a shrug. “Although I did do the photos for my school paper in freshman year.”

“See. I knew this would be right up your alley with all your artsy stuff,” she says and Janis actually laughs. Maybe this lady isn’t so bad. She’s kind of like Karen in some ways with all that perpetual sunshine and optimism, just a little smarter. Maybe that’s what Karen could do after school. Work with people like her. Cassie taps her leg with the folder she’s carrying, giving her a smile that scrunches up her face. “See you Saturday, bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

“Aren’t I always, Cass?” she asks her.

“And your mom told me about all the fun you had at your school,” she adds on her way out. “I’m so glad you had such a nice time.” Janis nods at that, giving her a small wave as she leaves. She lets out a long breath and cranes her neck to look at the mirror again, sad to see that her eyebrows haven’t done a miraculous regrow since two minutes ago. They must have fallen before yesterday, she thinks. She has to wonder if anyone else noticed them. If Damian did after she tackle hugged him or if Cady did when she kissed them. Janis rubs the back of her neck as another unwelcome question creeps into her mind; did they simply not notice, or did they notice and just decide not to tell her?

It seems that today she’s the popular one, because Cassie isn’t the only one to call into her room. Because that night, when her last round is due, Doctor Wiley accompanies the nurse on duty that day. Her dad is over too, making her already small room feel even tighter.

“Good evening Janis,” Doctor Wiley agrees. “And Mr Sarkisian, nice to see you.”

“He’s here for the burgers and the burgers only,” Janis says dryly, smirking over in her dad’s direction. True enough, there is a plate on his lap with a half-eaten burger and the remainder of fries.

“Sometimes I just don’t want to cook for myself,” he replies, giving an over-exaggerated shrug. Janis chuckles; as does Wiley as the nurse hooks up her IV. Her eyes move anxiously towards her dad. She’s never been given the impression that this bothers him, but nine times out of then he comes over when she’s already been hooked up or is here way before it’s due. He rarely sees her getting hooked up and since it’s not a great experience for her, it’s not something she wants many people to see.

“So, Janis,” Wiley asks. “How are we feeling tonight?”

“Fantabulous,” she replies, throwing up a little reflexive peace sign. She always delights in the look of happy confusion on Wiley’s face when she pulls stuff like this. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, well I’m doing well,” he says. He goes to ask something else, but the nurse interrupts him.

“Okay, I’m going to put this in now, okay?” she asks.

“Just make sure you actually hit my vein, Lucy,” she says. Her dad laughs at that, but he’s the only one who does. She makes a mental note to tell him about every time she’s been made to feel like a human pin cushion. Luckily, Lucy is an old hand at this and she only has to bite her cheek and curl her toes in once.

You’d think that, over two months into this, she’d be used to stuff like this.

“Okay, that’s you for the next two hours, hon,” Lucy tells her. “You comfy enough?”

“Like a queen,” she says. Lucy nods and bids goodbye to her parents before heading off, surprisingly without Doctor Wiley. Something shifts in Janis, and she reaches out and pulls Purrlock towards her. Just in case.

“Would you mind I closed this door?” he asks. Janis holds Purrlock even closer.

“Um, no, of course not,” her mom says. “Is there something wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say so,” Wiley says. He sits down on the opposite side of Janis’ bed. “Just that I’ve been talking with some of my colleagues, and we think now would be a good time for a bone marrow aspiration to monitor Janis’ progress.”

“Bone marrow aspiration?” Janis asks. “What’s that?”

“Just a small procedure to monitor how well this is going,” he explains. “We’d just be taking a sample of your bone marrow to check how well the treatment is going. At this stage, we’d like to think you’re well on your way to being finished, but we just want to make sure. And if the results are good, we can carry on as normal and finish up as planned?”

“Alternatively, they could be super, super good and I could be let out early,” she says.

“Well, we’ve never seen that happen,” he says. “But we do like to hope for miracles around here. So what do you say?”

Janis looks over at her parents, but it’s a no-brainer really.

“Sounds good,” she says. “When do we start?”

“Well, any point next week really,” he says. “We’d obviously like to get it done as quickly as possible so we can give you your results as soon as we can.” Janis nods, chewing the inside of her cheek as her stomach twists uneasily. This test thing is important, she can’t deny that. And if it’s good news, then she’ll know for sure she’s on her way out of here. Maybe she can start packing everything else up and taking it back home, so she can move out as fast as possible.

But the last time she got a test like this done, it didn’t work out so well. That’s the reason she’s here to begin with. A little black cloud had followed her around throughout that day, dominating everything. Like she knew what was going to happen. And while it may just be her brain playing tricks on her, she feels an unpleasant kind of déjà vu. If there’s one day she’d never want to live again, it’s that one.

“You okay kid?” her dad asks. Janis blinks, back in reality, finding her parents both looking at her expectantly and Doctor Wiley having already left while she was zoned out. She probably missed something there and he just assumed she was listening.

“I’m fine,” she says. Her hand rests on her arm, just over where the needle breaks through her skin. There’s a collection of little bruises on that arm now, alarmingly dark against her pale skin. She looks like a dalmatian there. “Hey Mom, can you get me a yogurt from downstairs? I’d go myself, but…” She gestures at her IV and the conversation ends there.

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” she says, shooting up. “Be back in a second.” Her dad nods, squeezing her hand gently before she goes and Janis feels the need to avert her eyes. Not for the first time, she’s reminded she isn’t the only person affected by this.

“Hey dad?” she asks quietly. Her hand curls into the blanket, the question catching in her throat. “What do you do all week when we’re not home?”

It catches him off guard, it caught her off guard too. She may love her parents, and they may have been through more with them than other families have, but this kind of blunt and open earnestness is unusual for her. She gives him a shrug and picks at the blanket as he tries to find an answer.

“Well… I go to work,” he says. “I watch TV. I make dinner. I walk the puppy. I play with the puppy. I feed the puppy. I call people. I keep busy.” He hesitates for a moment before moving over to her bed, his dinner sitting abandoned on the chair. He pokes her side, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smile. “I’m okay, Janis. I keep myself entertained.”

“Do you… do you get lonely?” She doesn’t miss how her voice shakes as she asks the question and she suddenly feel so much younger than she is. “Y’know, without me and mom?”

There’s a long pause, and then he answers “Sometimes. A lot of the time, yeah.” His hand is on her shoulder now, where he would have run her fingers through her hair. “And that’s why I keep so busy. So time goes faster until I can see you again.”

She nods. She imagines him all alone in their big house, eating breakfast by himself, the kitchen being the only light on in the house. Maxie barking at him because there’s no-one else to bark at until she comes home. Watching TV and working and checking the clock. Eating dinner for one. She tries not to get too emotional when her dad is around, but the way the guilt comes is almost too much, rolling in waves over her. Even for someone as experienced in hiding as she is, it’s hard to suppress fully. It’s only because Damian has already chastised her for it that she doesn’t apologise for it, instead opting to squeeze his hand tightly.

“Oh, don’t tell Maxie I told you I get lonely,” he tells her, a serious edge to his voice. “I don’t want him to think I don’t appreciate him.”

She lets out a laugh at that, like a little patch of blue in her grey mood.

“I won’t,” she tells him, equally as severe. “Besides, I think Max knows you love him really.”

                                                                                                    ******

The first thing Janis does on Saturday morning is down a cup of coffee. No exaggeration, the first word out of her mouth when she wakes up is ‘coffee’. She normally doesn’t like eating or drinking anything in the mornings, having learned from experience that the nausea means she’ll only puke it up later, but she’s decided to make an exception this once. She did the calculations the night before; if she gets a coffee and drinks the whole thing before her first round is due, then her body will absorb all the caffeine before she can vomit it back. And then she gets another one about an hour before Cady and Damian arrive, just to make sure she’s at her peak performance today. It’s a fool proof plan if she does say so herself, even if Cady had been a little sceptical of it when she told them. Still, they had said that if Janis was sure, they weren’t going to fight her on it.

“Besides, I’m sure your doctor would tell you if this was a bad plan,” they had said. “Right?”

“Right,” Janis had agreed, silently crossing her fingers behind her back. It wasn’t technically a lie, since Cady had never asked if she’d run her plan by a medical professional, but it still felt like one.

But it seems to be working, since she’s walking into her room with her second coffee in hand, stirring the five sugars she had dumped in it. It’s not her usual order, but since she can barely taste anything, she figured she may as well go crazy. And more sugar plus more caffeine just means more energy, right?

In addition to planning out her coffee equation last night, she also planned out her outfit. She had sent her dad a list via text of what to bring over on Wednesday so she could pick it out; meaning he had walked in with a confused look on his face and a grocery bag full of her old stuff that she hadn’t seen in months. At some point she had started leaving her nicer things at home and started investing in comfort over style. It felt a little odd, taking out all her old stuff. Like she was looking through old photos of herself.

She spent more time than she cares to admit deciding between outfits, swapping out garments and swapping them back again, mixing and matching until she found a combination that she deemed cute enough. Still comfortable, but something she would have worn normally before all this started. That’s what she’s after. Something normal.

She locks the door, just in case, and takes her pyjama top off, picking up the grey sweater she had chosen for today, decorated with a white thread skeleton on the front. Just as she pulls it on however, she comes to a depressing realisation. It’s too big on her. She doesn’t-won’t-look in the mirror, but she can tell from how lost she feels inside it, the fabric swamping her. The sleeves envelope her hands, her fingers poking out like icicles on a roof. She pulls off her leggings and grabs her tights, hoping that it looks better when it’s all together. She can’t believe she didn’t think of this. She’s said to her mom that a lot of her stuff doesn’t fit her anymore and she’s even been grown up enough to order sweats and t-shirts and pyjamas in smaller sizes. She and her mom have even had arguments over who’s paying for it. So far, winning has been split 50/50. So how did this slip her mind?

The tights don’t pose a problem, and neither do the shorts up until she has to close them. They hold up, for now, but barely hang onto her hips. And that’s when she’s standing still. She looks through the bag until she finds a belt for them, glad she at least had the foresight to ask for one. She threads it through and pulls it to the last hole, relieved to find it at least does something. They don’t exactly feel like they used to, but they’re at least secure enough for her not to worry about them.

She never thought she’d be glad for that.

She completes the look with a little shimmering black beanie, gifted from Gretchen (“I just saw it in the mall and thought ‘wow it’s so Janis’,” she had said), before checking herself in the mirror. She doesn’t know what she was expecting really. The outfit looks good-she looks good, if she may be permitted to say so. She can’t complain about the outfit, really. She chose well. It just doesn’t look like she thought it would. Where the sweater would have hugged her body before it hangs limply off her frame. Tucking it into the shorts is only a slight improvement. She hadn’t thought about how wearing the shorts shows off how thin her legs are now, nor how much room she has inn. She looks like a kid playing dress-up. They don’t look like her clothes. Nor do they look like they belong on her body.

She pulls her eyes away from the mirror, swallows past the lump in her throat and picks up her phone. According to Cady’s text, she and Damian are five minutes away, her point proven by a picture she sends of the two of them cheesing at the camera while riding the bus. That brings a smile to Janis’ face despite her little wobble, and she slips the phone into her pocket and grabs her bag before heading out into the foyer, following the sound of echoing voices and the occasional flash of light following a camera shutter.

She isn’t the only one who got dressed up for this occasion, she sees. The pyjamas are all put away for today, her friends putting on what she assumes is their finest. They didn’t even plan this, but for some things they all go into a hivemind here. The place is packed and not just with patients; friends and family have come around for this. She recognises a few moms and dads and waves accordingly, but the friends are all foreign to her. Melissa throws her head back and laughs, talking to a dark haired boy Janis guesses is from her school. Janis waves and while she doesn’t get one back, she’s okay with it.

She finds Maddie in the crowd too, a camera around her neck and surrounded by what she can only describe as a group of ‘mini-Maddies’. They all look different, but all have the same toothy grin and wide eyes, all dimples in cheeks and limbs a little too long for their bodies. When Maddie tries to wave them over to a wall, they all move as one big flock of teenage girls, and Janis has to laugh. They’re adorable at that age, so she’s heard.

“Oh, hello!” A voice to her right grabs her attention and admittedly makes her jump a little bit. When she turns around there’s a young-ish guy in a leather jacket, holding a professional looking camera in his hand, and there’s no prizes for guessing where he’s from. “You’re one of the kids right?”

“Nah I just really like hanging out here,” she says flatly, only one corner of her mouth turned up. He gets the sarcasm, thankfully, and even laughs at it, extending his hand.

“I’m Sebastian.”

“Janis,” she tells him, shaking his hand.

“Okay, well I see you haven’t been given a camera,” he tells her. “So here.” The camera he had is deposited into her hands and despite her own experience with photography, she’s surprised at the weight.

“Oh, okay,” is her response, her body suddenly a lot less stable with such an expensive piece of equipment. “Uh, I’m still waiting on my friends to show up…” Her phone buzzes in her pocket, making her heart almost drop to the floor. She can’t take any shocks, not when she’s holding something that, again, looks like it costs her college tuition. “And that’s probably them now.”

“Okay, fantastic!” Sebastian says. “So here, I’ll just put your name on this here, and then you and your friends can go and take all the pictures you like. Did you bring any props?”

“All in here,” she says. She goes to pat the bag before thinking better of it and nods at it instead. “I wouldn’t call them props really. Just bits and pieces of stuff from my room. My paintbrushes, a flag, my stuffed animals.” She gives a shrug. “I’m only sad I couldn’t bring my dog with me too.”

“Trust me, you are not alone,” he says. “Anyway I’ll leave you to it… and I assume these are your friends?”

Janis blinks and turns around, finding Cady rushing up to her side, Damian just behind.

“Hey,” Cady greets, about to go for a hug.

“Woah, woah, I am holding possibly the most expensive piece of equipment in this hospital right now,” Janis says. She goes for a little half-hug instead, and it works just as well.

“Sorry,” Cady says. “Just excited. This actually seems really cool.”

“Really, really cool,” Damian chimes in. “They’ve got a proper modelling shoot going on over there.” Another flash goes off just as he tells them, and Janis can vaguely make out a girl standing pouting against a wall.

“Well you know what we’re like in here,” Janis says. “Any chance we have to get dolled up and pretty, we jump for it.”

“There’s a Zodiac joke in there but I’m not sure if it’s offensive or not to make it.”

“Okay, you joke about that,” Janis jokes. “But I’ve met three people in this ward alone who are actually Cancers! Crazy right?”

“Sure sounds it,” Cady says before clasping their hands together, looking around the room expectantly. “So… do you have a plan of action here?”

“I do indeed, Caddy.” She fiddles with the camera for a second before finding the strap and throwing it around her neck, leaving her other hand free to hold out to Cady. She takes it with a grin. “Let’s go my little poppets.”

She pulls them into a corner, away from the bigger action, and kneels down on the floor, the other two following suit.

“Okay so I kind of have this thing planned out,” she explains. “This whole thing is about showing the ‘person behind the cancer’, right? Like you know, show how we’re still… people. Individuals, right?”

“Noble cause,” Damian says as Janis opens her bag. Realisation dawns on his face as she does so.

“So I just brought a bunch of stuff that’s important to me,” she finishes.

“Do we count as stuff that’s important to you?” Cady teases, already knowing the answer.

“You two are my most important stuff,” she says, dropping a kiss onto Cady’s nose. She looks between the two of them, awkwardness slowly building up in her. “So I kind of wanted some photos of me like… drawing and stuff. You know, what I’d normally do.” She shrugs, a timid grin tugging on her lips. “And you two can play photographer for this part.”

“Oh fuck yeah,” Damian says.

“I also want photos with you two,” she adds. “A lot of pictures with you two. They said… like I’m not sure exactly but they said that they’d put up some of everyone’s work on the walls but we’d also get to keep all our own ones in this little book thing they’ll make for us. I don’t know, I’ve probably explained this to you before.”

“You did, sort of,” Cady says, tucking her hair behind her ears and straightening her shoulders. “Okay, so why don’t we start with some shots of you drawing? It’s sort of you in your natural habitat after all.” She looks over at Damian, excitement sparking in her eyes. “Uh… Damian? Do you mind if I use the camera first?”

“Oh, does someone like the big shiny toy?” Janis teases.

“Do I mind?” Damian says at the exact same time. “Young child, you take as many photos as you want.” Janis hands the camera off to Cady, her heart admittedly picking up a little as she does so. “Meanwhile, I want to play director.”

“Director?” Janis echoes, looking over at an equally confused Cady.

“Yes, director,” he says. “Well you can’t expect to model yourself do you?”

“Jerk,” she says, grinning even so. She sits up and shakes her head, tossing imaginary hair over her shoulders. “Okay genius. Sculpt me.”

That’s all the incentive Damian needs. He climbs over to her as she gets her sketchbook and pencils out of her bag. She tries not to let him see how much emptier her book is compared to last year’s. If he does notice he doesn’t show it even as she opens on a half-finished drawing. He pokes at her and turns her head as she fights off her laughter, her shoulders shaking with the effort.

“This lighting is terrible,” he declares.

“What lighting?” she asks, gesturing to the window. “The sun?”

“Yes. The sun is terrible. Fuck the sun.”

“I remember the myth of Icarus slightly differently to you it seems,” Janis says.

“Okay, okay, now just move that pretty little head of yours down by a millimetre,” he says. “And… perfection. All yours Cady.”

Cady mumbles something that sounds like ‘finally’ before the flash goes off in Janis’ vision.

“You know your way around that thing,” Janis comments when she’s sure they’ve finished. Cady shrugs, a proud grin on her face.

“Back in Kenya I took some photos of the animals,” she explains. “Research purposes, you know?”

“Indeed. So do I look good here?” she asks.

“See for yourself.” Cady fiddles with it for a bit and turns it towards her. Janis’ breath hitches when she sees it. She picked a good one, and Damian did a good job too; she sits with her book balanced between her knees, her fingers fiddling with the pencil. The light that Damian hated so badly drapes across her, chasing away the pale complexion she’s become used to. She has this faraway look about her, lost in her artwork, just the way she loves to be.

“Oh I do look good,” she says.

“Do you want a moment alone with the camera?” Damian asks, an eyebrow raised. She gives him a tiny flip off before pulling herself up, her muscles groaning just slightly. At least everything is sitting still for her today. That coffee she took must have been better than she thought.  They take a couple more of her posing, looking wistfully out the window, Purrlock sitting on her lap, throwing peace signs up at the camera.

“Okay, I know what I want to shoot next.” There’s a little bit of a buzz about her as she pulls her next thing out of her bag; her pride flag. She still remembers the day she got it; she was 14 and practically shoved it across the counter of the little store in New York, the unplanned purchase that turned into her most cherished possession. She wraps it around herself now, the flimsy, thin fabric wrapping around her like a trusted blanket and grins at them.

“I love it,” Damian says as Cady snaps a picture of her again and again, her trying out a million different poses, being silly, being serious, trying and failing to be sexy, hoisting it in the air like a flag. When she asked about it, Cassie had told her to bring props that meant something to her, that showed who she really is inside. Of course her flag was one of the first things that came to mind.

“Hey, Caddy,” she says when the flashing subsides for a moment. “You brought yours too, right?”

“Yeah,” they reply. “I just brought the little one, though I don’t really get it…. Oh.” Realisation dawns on Cady’s face, lighting it up from the inside out. Janis opens her arms to her, laughing as she struggles to pull her own flag out of her backpack. After a bit of deliberating, she hangs the bag and the camera to Damian, who swings the former up on his shoulder, and rushes over to Janis, the colours of her bi flag meshing into a blur. When she crashes into Janis’ body, her head smacking into her chin and her waist, that’s when Damian decides to take the picture.

“Hey!” she snaps. “No fair, we weren’t ready!”

“But you looked so cute!” he squeaks, rolling his eyes when Janis gives him a pointed look. “Okay, okay, fine. Get into poses you little lovebirds.”

Cady’s head settles on her shoulder, her flag circling the both of them as she puts her arm around them, her cheek coming to rest against her hair. Cady’s free hand circles around her waist and slides into her pocket, her touch warm against her skin. Despite Damian’s wording, it doesn’t feel like a pose. It feels so, so natural, just like breathing.

She presses her lips to Cady’s head and feels her smiling against her just as the camera goes off again.

“God you two are so cute,” Damian sighs. She swears she sees his eyes misting over, overly sentimental monster that he is. Even if he tries to shake it off and pretend to be the tough guy. “It reminds me that I’m single and lonely.”

“And ready to mingle!” Janis reminds him. Cady’s hand trails off her waist and takes her hand, fingers laced together, and Janis swings their hands between them. “Okay I have one more idea… and I need the two of you in it.”

“Okay, then who’s taking the picture?” Damian asks, his eyes scanning the room for someone, as if they’ll come rushing over to help them. And around here that is often the case, but not today, what with all the nurses enjoying their momentary break. Janis shakes her head instead, a gleam in her eye.

“We are,” she says simply before grabbing Damian’s hand and pulling him closer. “Old school style.”

Getting into position for this isn’t easy, especially not with the two of them being so much taller than Cady and Janis feeling extra cautious around the camera. Bubbly lover of life that she is, Cady initially tires jumping on Damian, and he actually does manage hold her up, even if they do wobble a little. The two laugh at themselves and then each other, the sound so light and musical that it makes Janis’ heart swell. She snaps a quick photo of them, remembering to turn the flash off. It might not have been planned, but when she looks at it, a moment frozen just for her, she’s so glad she caught it.

“Hey Janis come over here!” Damian calls, Cady’s legs wrapped around his waist. “Or are you just going to sit there and look at yourself all day?”

“I’m coming, jerk,” she sighs, running over and kneeling beside him. Cady’s hand comes and rests on the back of her neck; she guesses it’s equal parts affection and trying to keep herself steady. Janis stretches her arm out as far as she can, the screen turned so they can see their themselves, laughing and helpless, fighting for a spot in the frame. Their backs slowly start to hurt, their cheeks aching from so much smiling.

“Have you got this?” Cady asks. “It’s fine if you don’t, I’m comfortable up here.”

“Speak for yourself you little twerp,” a red-faced Damian gasps.

“Okay, okay, okay there we are!” Janis says, tapping the floor in excitement when she sees all three of their faces in the frame. “Okay we only have this for a millisecond so say cheese you two! Three, two, one!”

After the shutter goes off they collapse on the floor, the sound of their laughter echoing off the polished walls. Nurses run over to help them, no doubt on alert seeing one of theirs on the floor seemingly suffocating, and the worst part is none of them can catch their breath long enough to tell them that they’re okay. All it takes is one to look at another and their progress in fixing themselves is gone; they’re one again reduced to cackling messes on the foyer floor.

God, Janis thinks as she sits up, pulling Cady into a sitting position beside her and hugging her close. What would she do without these two?

Later that evening, Damian is draped across her bed, flicking through her mom’s magazine. The three of them had hung out as much as they could when they had finished up, but Cady had been pulled out of it by her phone reminding her of another tutoring session.

“I’m sorry,” she had sighed. “It’s not normally on today, but they were sick so we had to reschedule. I should have moved it earlier, I didn’t think-”

“Nuh-uh, Heron,” Janis told her, tapping her nose. “Don’t you go apologising for your magnificent service to the North Shore community.” Cady scrunches up her face at that. “Besides, you’re probably bringing the average of the entire school up and I don’t want Mrs Norbury coming for me when her classes start failing again.”

“She never would,” she said. They paused for a moment, stuck in a half-embrace, until Damian took the hint and turned his attention to the outside of Janis window. Satisfied, Cady stood up on her tiptoes and pressed their lips to Janis’ in a sweet kiss. “I had a lot of fun today.”

“I had hoped so,” she murmured against her, sneaking another peck. She rubbed her nose against Cady’s, debating whether or not she should convince her to stay. Eventually she let her go, squeezing her hand one more time and promising to text her tomorrow before she left.

And now she’s here, munching on a cereal bar and scribbling in the corner of her sketchbook. All day, but especially since Cady left, her new development had hung around her mind, never really leaving and letting her have peace. The mere idea of not telling Damian just doesn’t sit right with her at all. Not just because he’d know if she kept something from him anyway. He’s given up so much because of this, all for her.

The question is how does she tell him? It’s not like it’s a ‘sit down and take a deep breath’ kind of moment, but it’s not something she wants to brush off either. It’s important, and she’d be stupid not to recognise that. After pondering on it, she finds just being blunt seems to be the best approach, so she taps his shoulder, opens her mouth and-

“So I have a thing next week.”

Wow she thinks. That went well. She guesses she put way too much faith in her communication abilities there.

“A thing?” he asks, turning to look at her. “What kind of thing?”

“It’s…” She clears her throat. “It’s a bone marrow aspiration.”

“Oh.” He turns around to face her then, his eyes wide with concern as he nods seriously. She lets out a snort in response, her demeanour the opposite of his.

“You have no clue what that is, do you?”

“I know what bone marrow is,” he replies. He picks at his nails, his jaw setting. “And I guess it’s about you. Your cancer, I mean.”

“It’s to see how well I’ve progressed since getting in here,” she tells him, her voice more quiet than she thought it would be. She shrugs weakly as he takes it in, growing only slightly worried at how quiet he is. “Just to check everything’s working like it should.”

“And are you…” He waves his hand in the air. “Confident about it?”

The question takes her by surprise. She had never really thought about it as a question of confidence. Confidence is for her the things she has control over; her friendships, her art, her future. Not for this.

“It’s not really up to me, is it?” she says with a shrug. “I mean I’ve been doing everything I should be doing. Guess all we can do right now is hope.” Damian nods again, his hands clasped in his lap almost like he’s praying. Silence stretches out between them, marked only by the ticking of the clock, and it’s unsettling. They’ve had their fair share of heart-to-hearts, but they’ve always ended with jokes and smiles, holding hands and resting on each other, one holding the other up. Now he’s sitting away from her, his eyes unreadable. “Damian?” asks after a long while.

“You’ll be fine.” He looks up then with a fierce determination in his eyes, his voice stronger than she’s ever heard it. Not even onstage has she ever seen him like this. “You will be.”

She takes a deep breath. That’s what everyone tells her; her doctors, her parents. It’s what she tells herself, really. That she’s been doing everything right, and with the way this medicine is kicking her ass, it has to be working. And she wants to believe that she’ll be fine, that everything will be as it should be. But that’s what she thought the first time around too. If there’s one thing she’s learned by now, it’s to not take things for granted.

And it hurts seeing him like this. It hurts seeing him believe something so much when she can’t guarantee it. She remembers clear as day the first time she told him, the two of them alone in her bedroom, how it tore at her heart to tell him. How much it had crushed him. How does she stop that from happening again?

She shuffles towards him, her heart crawling up her mouth, and takes his hand, finding it as cold and clammy as her own is.

“Damian,” she whispers. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

It’s only when she sniffles she realises she’s started crying.

“I think this will be okay,” she tells him. “I think when I go in and I do that test, I think those results will say I’m doing good. That’s what the doctor thinks.” She swallows past the lump in her throat. “But if it’s not-”

“Janis-”

“Can you just listen to me?” she asks. When he closes his mouth, lips pressed into a thin line, she continues. “But if it isn’t, I need you to promise me you’ll be okay with it. That you aren’t going to worry about me every day. That you’re going to go ahead and live.” She wipes at her face. “Just be okay for me. Promise me that.”

“You know I can’t promise you that.” He shakes his head. “I’ll be okay when you’re okay.”

“No.” She shifts onto her knees, looking him right in the eye. “Listen to me, Damian. You need to promise that whatever happens to me, you aren’t going to fall apart.” His hand comes up and he laces their fingers together. “I don’t know what I’d do if I knew you weren’t okay and it was because of me.” She pokes his cheek and wipes his tears off his face. “So just promise me that… in the unlikely event that it’s not what we want to hear… you won’t fall apart.”

It feels like a lifetime before he nods too, his own eyes wet and glistening under the lights. He then pulls her into a wordless hug, her fragile body held in his strong arms, his hand running up and down her back. She lets out a shuddering breath and it feels like weeks’ worth of frustration and loneliness and downright misery is let out as well, all as she melts into his arms.

“God you really know how to kill a mood, don’t you, Sarkisian?” he whispers and she finally laughs. “Here, I got you something.”

She pulls away from him just enough for him to reach into his pocket and produce a candy bar packed in a silver wrapper, one she vaguely recognises but can’t place.

“Courtesy of Maisie,” he says. She lifts it carefully, treating it with the utmost care. “From her Halloween haul. You should be real grateful; she doesn’t give that up lightly.”

“I am,” she says, a slight laugh in her voice. “Tell her that for me, okay?” He nods as she pulls it out of the wrapper and breaks it in half, holding one out to him. She raises an eyebrow when he shakes his head. “Come on, you deserve it too.” She looks up at his head, hidden under a rainbow coloured beanie. “You said I wasn’t going through this alone. And that includes the good parts too.”

He rolls his eyes but takes it all the same, a smile on his face that’s as soft as his soul is. She turns so that they sit hip to hip and her head can rest on his shoulder, their hands clasped between them, eating in companionable silence, sharing the occasional smile.

It’s not that she isn’t worried, she is. That foreboding feeling won’t leave her alone and she’s given up on trying. It’s just that when she’s sitting here with him holding his hand, the black cloud doesn’t seem as close as it was.

[chilly-territory]

K Case Files of Blue 2, chapter 4 (part 2 out of 2)

Case Files of Blue 2 by Miyazawa Tatsuki

Chapter 4 (part 2/2) (volume 2, pages 224-246)

†

The one to make contact with her target first was Awashima Seri. When she opened the door to a big hall meant for wedding ceremonies and such, on the other side of the door she found Nakamura Gouki sitting cross-legged in the middle of it, drinking sake from a bottle and making no attempt to be shy about it.

Recognizing her, the giant man said, "Oh, so it's you who came for me, eh? How about a drink?"

He turned and held his bottle up in Awashima's direction. Awashima let out a small sigh.

"I'm on the clock. But even if I weren't, I'd only drink with people I have rapport with." "So with me you don't?" Nakamura Gouki asked after barking out a short laugh. "You," Awashima replied icily, "are somewhat lacking in delicacy." "Hmm," Gouki intoned, stroking his chin. "I personally like you quite a bit though. Like your strong will so atyical for a woman. Your brute strength, too. You shattered that cage all by yourself, without any help, right? For what it's worth, it was made in such a way that even a gorilla wouldn't be able to break it. Which makes you stronger than a gorilla, ain't it ri---" "I suppose I am," Awashima interrupted in a powerful tone, making Gouki bite his tongue. Her expression tightened and she drew her saber. "Against you, I have no slightest intention to pull my punches. I'm sorry to say but there is no room for that. For that reason, if you make a bad move, you might wind up getting severely hurt. Thus, I sincerely urge you to surrender."

Awashima took her signature battle stance with one leg bent in front, the other extended behind her and the tip of her raised sword pointing downward. Gouki narrowed his eyes at her.

"Good gracious. In the end, we both can only settle this by brute force, eh." Still relaxed, he kept sipping his sake. "But before that, mind telling me just one thing?" "What is it?" Awashima kept staring down her opponent, not letting her guard down. "What kind of man is Munakata Reishi? What is he to you?" Gouki's face when he asked that was earnest and serious, and one that Awashima had never seen him make before. "C'mon."

Awashima flushed a little.

Gouki went on. "At first, I only thought of him as nothing more than a man Zen'ichi is weirdly obsessed with. But you know, as this whole story unfolded, I started finding myself taking interest in him, too. Just like with you, I sure want to share a drink and a talk with him. So..." he repeated his question again in the same very serious tone. "What kind of man is Munakata Reishi?"

"..."

Technically speaking, Awashima was under no obligation to answer that. But, being a honest and serious person that she was, she couidn't help giving the question some careful deliberation.

"Let's see," she finally spoke up. "To me, he is my king." "What I want to hear is not a shallow general description like that..." "No," Awashima cut him off flatly. Relaxing her stance, she elaborated, "To me, that person really is my king. And to me, that's everything. This is the only way I can find to describe it." She looked Gouki straight in the eye.

Hearing the weight and gravity in her tone, Gouki refrained from saying anything. Awashima suddenly smiled.

"Captain and I met before he had his awakening as a king. The plane we both happened to be on was hijacked by terrorists, and I helped Captain suppress them. It was like something straight out of movies. But some explosives we didn't know about blew, opening a big hope in the plane's airframe and sending it plummeting down. It was at that moment that he had become a king. All to save the passengers who were on that plane with him. And I witnessed it with my own eyes." Her every word was permeated with strong conviction. "For a long time, Captain searched for an answer to the question of who he was, and in that instance he'd had a realization that becoming a king was his destiny. If that's how it was, then I thought that my destiny must have been to support and help him. So I became his first clansman." "..." "Nakamura Gouki. Now, it's my turn to ask you something. Why do you support Kounomura Zen'ichi?" "Hmm." The giant scratched his bald head. "Sadly, unlike you, I don't have any special reason. It's just..." He flashed his pearly whites. "To me, Zen'ichi is a friend I have rapport with. If I must name one reason, that itself is the reason," Gouki asserted. "...I can't believe you..." Awashima breathed out a sigh. "I had my suspicions, but you really are one strange person, just like Kounomura."

"My oh my, what an honor!" Gouki's shoulders vibrated as he laughed. And then he added, "It's never boring around him." He looked like he was having fun. "...Thanks to that, I even awakened this amusing power."

Getting up slowly, he took the front double biceps pose that bodybuilders do, flexing said muscles. Following the swell of both sets of his well-developed biceps, Gouki's power spiked. In the air between the two tension hung.

"Something's been bothering me for a while. Initially, you were simply Kounmura's friend who became a strain only after Kounomura had started scheming to usurp Captain's throne, isn't that right?" "Ain't you well informed?" Gouki took a side chest pose next, putting his perctorals on display. "That's right. While participating in that grand plan of Zen'ichi's, at some point I had an awakening as a strain. And that fact itself backed up Zen'ichi's theory." "...What theory?" "That the Slate has a uniform response to a person's will. If you want power, you will get power. That is..." Gouki finished his performance with the abdominal and thigh pose. "If you want to become a king, you just might steal that seat and become one if you wish for it strong enough."

For a while, Awashima contemplated his words. Then she let out another long sigh. "You're beyond help." Quietly, she moved to take her battle stance properly again. "That's nothing more than a conceited and self-serving wild delusion. I shall correct it for you." "Oh well," Gouki grinned, "I guess that fits me just fine. Now, c'mon!" he rushed towards her. "Time to talk with our fists!"

Awashima met his dash with a battle cry.

†

About the time the fierce clash between Awashima and Gouki unfolded, Fushimi encountered Marumoto. This run-in, however, didn't escalate into anything as passionate as Awashima and Gouki's.

If anything, it was more of a game of tag where Marumoto, throwing lines like "Why do you resist opening up your heart so much?! Just become my friend! I know you're lonely!", "Eh? You don't have any social network accounts? Then how do you call out to your friends when you have a barbeque party?" and "I'm gonna chillax at a hole-in-the-wall bar with a group of good friends who chase their dreams together, wanna come too?", specially designed to get on Fushimi's nerves as much as possible, tried to run away and hide, while Fushimi did the chasing, clicking his tongue tirelessly.

Marumoto may not have possessed a sliver of fighting prowess in a direct physical confrontation, but he didn't specialize in reading minds for nothing either, excelling in seeing right through Fushimi's thought processes and hiding in his blind spots with exceptional dexterity. Changing hiding places from behind a fire fighting panel to inside a ventilation fan to beneath a sofa, he ran screaming out throwaway lines in the same vein as those mentioned above.

And each time the shutter of his camera clicked, taking yet another photo, it grated on Fushimi's nerves immensely. Fushimi swung his saber, chasing after him.

"Tch!" Tongue-clicking was only a natural response.

Fushimi had a sickening feeling that all he did lately was being dragged into these stupid games of tag. Except, both he and Marumoto knew that it was coming to an end. Through ingenious positioning, the Scepter 4 operative managed to block Marumoto's escape routes and drive him into a dead end. Of course, Marumoto knew what his opponent was trying to do, but through Fushimi's strategic maneuvering that looked random at a glance, he was running out of places to escape.

Marumoto's voice sounded strained with panic. Trying to find a way distract Fushimi, he'd resorted to alluding to Fushimi's family and the clan he was affiliated with previously, but ultimately it proved useless as, despite Fushimi's face turning bitter, his steps never faltered.

'I already was going to punch him once, guess I'll make it 2 or 3 times now,' those were about all Fushimi's thoughts on the matter. That is, for all intents and purposes, he was not rising to Marumoto's bait.

Until one particular statement from Marumoto.

"Why don't you respect your boss more? You should be more of a team player, you know!"

When he heard that screamed out at him, for the first time Fushimi paused in his steps.

"Say," surprisingly enough, Fushimi sounded thoughtful, "why do you follow someone like Kounomura?"

Silence fell.

After a short while, an answer came from a shadowy corner of the hallway.

"Well, because I respect him a lot. Kounomura-san is a great man!" "..." Fushimi sensed something in his tone. Marumoto continued, as if enraptured, "You see, until a little while ago, I was a volunteer at an orphanage that Kounomura-san operates. Kounomura-san is a very busy man, yet he finds time to remember the names of each kid and is always very kind to them. I look up to him and dream to be a person like him some day." "Then you're being tricked," Fushimi cut off bluntly. "Eh?" "Mooooron." Fushimi smirked mockingly. "Do you really believe a guy like him who's only interested in achieving his own dream would give a damn about some kids?" "Wh-what?" Reading his opponent's state of mind like an open book, Fushimi cut to the quick, "You're just being used as a handy tool. As if he'd so much as glance at you if you weren't a strain." "T-Take that back." "I'll say it as many times as it takes. You're being duped by him, dude. Poor schmuck." "Take that back, this instance! Kounomura-san is not that kind of man!"

Suddenly, Marumoto's form emerged from a shadowy nook of the hallway. In his indignation, he left his hiding place without thinking. By the time the realization of what he'd done hit him, plastering the expletive of "Crap!" all over his face, it was already too late.

Kicking off the floor, Fushimi covered the distance between them in one mighty leap and tapped the handle of his saber against the back of Marumoto's neck lightly once. The blow that could be described as gentle and almost soft didn't fail to hit the vital spot with precision.

"D-Damn it!"

Tears in his eyes, Marumoto collapsed on the spot, out cold. Fushimi sneered.

"Is it really that much fun to dream up an idol, put him on a pedestal and worship him blindly?" Then, in a dry mutter, he added, "...That's probably why I disliked you from the start."

With that, Fushimi slouched, taking his leave.

†

Awashima and Gouki clashed violently. These clashes of absurd power and speed repeated again and again. As far as raw power went, Gouki was winning by a small margin, but in speed Awashima held an overwhelming advantage. Both dispensed of tricks and tactics, fighting fair and square and only relying on their skills. Gouki wasn't holding back despite his opponent being a woman, and Awashima, in turn, put all her might into the slashes she unleashed at him.

"Nhaa!"

Lariat that Gouki launched at Awashima along with a throaty shout was blown away.

"Ha!"

After gaining splendid acceleration in midair, a backspin roundhouse kick landed on Gouki's cheek, sending his kicked-in molars in the air. He lost his clothes, Awashima lost her saber, and the battle came down to hand-to-hand combat.

"And theeeere!"

Easily gathering Awashima into his arms, Gouki threw her violently against the floor.

"Ugh!"

Twisting her body like a cat to absorb the force of the impact, she swept her leg, catching Gouki just below the knee.

"Gha!"

He hit the back of his head on the floor.

"And there!"

Still, he reached his thick arms to try and catch her, but Awashima managed to leap from the spot and avoid his hold by a hair's breadth. Then both put some distance between them, watching each other fixedly.

"Fufu." "Haha."

For some reason, they both chuckled.

Their faces were sweaty, they both were breathing hard and bruises and minor hemorrhages blossomed here and there on their bodies as a sort of decorations. Despite that, the two's fighting spirit wasn't dampened in the least. An unspoken understanding that the time to settle this once and for all was upon them was shared between them.

"If I may be so bold."

With a gesture betraying deep respect, Gouki stepped forward. Awashima came a step closer as well.

"Haaaaa!"

Gouki threw a right straight punch with all his might. Awashima's movements were free of hesitation. Resolved to the possibility of getting hard-punched in the face, she dodged to the side only at the last possible moment. Only, it was a feint.

"Gotcha!"

Gouki grinned and elbowed the crown of Awashima's head now that it was perfectly within his range, hard. The downward jab was like a blow of a giant hammer and packing enough power to be instantly lethal for a normal person.

Except in the end it was Awashima who emerged victorious in the contest of predicting the opponent's moves. The elbow attack was well within her expectations. She had confidence she could weather it and made her calculations based on that. Crossing her arms, she took that bone-shattering killing blow head-on. Unable to absorb the whole force of it, her legs trembled and a grimace of anguish crossed her features.

And yet, despite the pain, that was where her ultimate chance lay.

Gouki's expression changed, reflecting a "Oh, crap!" reaction. Awashima didn't pause. Taking one more step forward that brought her infinitely close to her opponent, she tensed bodily, gathering all her spirit and strength and putting it into a piercing blow to Gouki's solar plexus. If Gouki's attack was like a falling hammer, then Awashima's like a sharp stab of a saber.

"Ugh!"

It managed to pierce even through her opponent's thick abdominals.

"Bah!"

Gouki's eyes rolled back, and his body folded down. Awashima didn't let that momentary opening go to waste. Setting Gouki's head that, until now was too high for her to reach, on her shoulder, "And with this..." she said and lifted the body of her opponent up. His massive giant body.

"Orryaa!"

The throw she executed was so-called Brainbuster from professional wrestling. It was a power technique that you normally wouldn't see outside the ring where you lift your opponent upside down high overhead and then throw them right down.

"Ghaaaaa!"

Landing on the floor on the crown of of his head, Gouki screamed. He tried to get up but it was beyond his ability.

"Fu, fufufufu." His shoulders shook. "You really are strong," he said to Awashima who was breathing hard but stood over him as the winner, looking down at him. "It's such a pity that you're a woman."

Awashima snorted coldly. "You were pretty strong yourself. For a man, that is."

The snapback made Gouki chuckle again.

"Listen," he said when he was done, "I've got a request. You and Munakata Reishi. And me and Zen'ichi. Can we share a drink together some day?" "Well," Awashima replied as she was searching for her saber and then returning it to its place on her hip. "I don't mind giving your request some thought. But asking Captain about his wishes comes first." "I see."

Once he'd heard her reply, Gouki closed his eyes, seemingly content. "Can't wait then... Really."

And with that, he was out cold.

Awashima took a deep breath, wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand and turned away from Gouki, intending to head to the hall.

Her dashing profile was a testament to the strength of her resolve.

†

Kounomura Zen'ichi was in the wedding chapel on the top floor. Seated on the altar for taking the oath, he was swinging his legs as he talked to his wife.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," he was saying into the PDA. "That's right. That's how it is. Yeah, I'm serious. No, I'm telling you," he persuaded in a soft voice, "I can't come back for a while longer. Yes, right. Yes. Yeeees."

Carefree as ever, he hung up the phone. Spinning around, the short man faced the other side.

"You were gracious enough to wait for me to finish, eh, Munakata-kun?" he called, grinning all the while. "You seemed to be busy with a call."

Munakata Reishi who smoothly appeared in the spot of light, too, had a smile on his lips. His frame, clad in a blue uniform complimented with a sword, was set off quite nicely by the special atmosphere of sacrality reigning this particular space. On the other hand, Kounomura Zen'ichi, not blessed with height or dignified stature and looking quite dull in an oversized jacket and tawny slacks, was out of place there.

The two's appearances couldn't have been farther apart: Munakata with his clean-cut features, well-formed and perfectly-proportioned frame and the undeniable air of refinement and elegance, and Kounomura, with a bulky body of a penguin and plain though not without a certain charm features, who couldn't be called attractive by any standard.

Nevertheless, the two men had something about them that made them similar.

In was in their gaze that observed all phenomena of the world with utmost attention, more carefully than anybody else yet for some reason remained distant and detached as if they weren't watching at all, and in their free way of life that transformed sadness far removed from the realm of normal into amusement. But what made them seem alike more than anything else was a calm smile always playing on their lips. That was what the two men so different had in common.

"I have to say it is quite strange. This is my first time meeting you face-to-face, but it does not feel like it," Munakata spoke up unhurriedly. Tilting his head to the side slightly, he continued, "The reason may be the fact that I've gone through massive amounts of information related to you in the course of this affair." "This is my first time meeting you in the flesh, too, I guess?" Kounomura spread out his hands. "But y'know, I made a poster out of one of the photos of you that I'd taken secretly and pinned it up in my room." He closed his eyes. "So if I just shut my eyes like this, I can see your image in all its minute details in my head right away. All your data are etched into my brain, y'see."

Munakata answered with a wry smile. Kounomura opened his eyes.

"I did it because I wanted to become you so bad, Munakata-kun. Because..." he was not shy about his word choices, "Blue King, I thought you were beautiful." "Please tell me just one thing," Munakata asked. "Why did you choose this particular method to dethrone such a king?" "Hm?" "Why did you choose to trick and trap my subordinates instead of going after me directly?" "Hmmm," Kounomura took some time to think this question over. "Why, to tell you the truth, I didn't put much thought into it. It's just when I wondered what it was that made one king, I thought maybe the answer was one's retainers." His face suddenly turned serious. "No matter how much one claims to be king, so long as no one recognizes and acknowledges that claim, one remains but a naked emperor, y'know. So I thought maybe the Dresden Slate would revise your status if you were to be cut off your followers. Then again, it was just one out of currently 12 strategies that I'd come up with, and from now on I'm planning on testing out the other 11. And rest assured, among them there are some that involve cornering you specifically."

Munakata chuckled. "So you're set on trying again, I take it?" "Yup." Kounomura's reply was flat as a child's. "I totally am."

Munakata heaved a sigh, still smiling. Kounomura made a serious face again.

"Munakata-kun, I think you've already realized this without me telling, but..." His voice sounded low. "The Dresden Slate. It's very dangerous." "..." Munakata said nothing to that. Pushing up his glasses with a finger, he changed the subject. "You cannot escape any more, and I trust you are aware of the fact, yes?" "..." This time it was Kounomura who kept his silence. And then he said peevishly, "I've prepared a few means of escape. But the decisive factor that got in my way and prevented me from making use of them is this awful weather." "Your friend," Munakata spoke calmly, "said one interesting thing to me. According to him, apparently, when you get down to it, all coincidences are but inevitable. So wouldn't you say your running out of moves is some sort of fate at work?" "Munakata-kun, you..." "You do realize already, don't you?" The way Munakata said it reeked of eerieness. He was slowly drawing closer.

That was the first time when a shadow of fear slid across Kounomura's face.

All of a sudden, he did an about-face, dashed to hide behind the altar where he took a detonator out of his pocket and pushed the button.

With a thunderous roar, the chapel blew up.

†

When Kounomura made it to the roof, the sky was covered with dark clouds twisting like dragons as far as the eye could see. From time to time, flashes of lightning pierced them.

The torrential downpour, cutting and violent, beat his body mercilessly, and the accompanying gale made him stagger. His face was a sticky mess of sweat and dirt. His hair, thin even under the best circumstances, stuck to his forehead, and his clothes showed tears. Having crawled into the emergency exit made beneath the altar, it took him quite some time to get out.

Kounomura turned to take a look at the rubble that only a few minutes ago was the chapel, and the expression that crossed his face then could be interpreted as despair, fear or maybe even delight.

"...I knew it, Munakata-kun, you're simply..."

There stood no other than Munakata Reishi. Around him the blue globe of a barrier was projected, and despite being in the immediate vicinity of an explosion, not even a hair was out of place on him, to say nothing of injury. Munakata was getting closer, step by step, smiling with grace and refinement all the while.

Kounomura felt fear seizing him. And as Munakata was drawing closer, indivertible in his approach, the reason for this fear dawned on the short man.

For the first time in his life, Kounomura Zen'ichi and his carefully made plans were about to fail. Here, at this very moment.

There were things forever out of his reach, and he was made to realize he could never become someone like the person in front of him no matter how he tried. Between the two men there existed a wall that could never be scaled. In that instance, both Kounomura and Munakata sensed it.

'So this is what destiny is, huh? In the end, I never even stood a chance.'

The moment he thought that, a wave of exhaustion swept over him so bone-deep that he could barely stay upright. His long past its prime body had hit its limit long time ago, and the spirit that kept it going just barely after it had broke that instance.

Kounomura was ready to collapse then and there. But just then...

"That wouldn't do, Kounomura-san."

A quick and strong yet gentle arm suddenly caught him. The wind and rain stopped. Kounomura realized he was drawn inside the barrier projected around Munakata. When he looked up, he found Munakata smiling at him from above.

"He who aspires to be king must never take a knee."

That determination was overwhelming.

Kounomura's first ever failure triggered another strong reaction, and another feeling, new to him, was born on the heels of it. On instinct alone, Kounomura groaned. And then...

"It's okay."

Freeing himself from Munakata's supporting arm, he took a knee before the other man, of his own will this time, and said reverently, "I admit my defeat. You are the true king, Munakata Reishi."

In that instance, he found a new goal for himself, a new someone who he wanted to become.

Munakata, though almost imperceptibly perplexed, kept on smiling, and Kounomura, as he looked at him, couldn't help thinking of him as 'beautiful' once again.

[thehoodsweetheart]

Sandcastles

A/N: I haven’t written in a very long time so please be gentle with me. I got in the mood to write and thought, why not? Loosely proofread it. I hope it’s not complete trash. :( Anyways, Auntie Bey releasing Lemonade for streaming gave your girl some inspo. Please comment and let me know your thoughts.

Word Count: 2,471

Warnings: Slight Angst (?), Violence, Hints of emotional abuse, Fuckboy Erik

Summary: You love Erik, but you can’t let him compromise your integrity.

Erik x Black Reader (will always be a Black reader. Sorry not Sorry).

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

The iPhone’s screen illuminated white with its signature black apple dead center. You inhaled deeply letting out an exasperated breath awaiting the lock screen to appear. You used your thumb to spin the wedding ring around your finger. Your eyes shifted from the device to the house you were parked in front of. It was large modern styled house, almost as if it were overcompensating for something. The lawn was well manicure yet it showed no semblance of life. At 11:45 AM, not a single light peaking from any of the vast windows, or a single car in the winding driveway to give the impression that someone was ‘home’.  Great... This was your home.

The chiming of the overbearing amount of notifications snapped out of your daze. You furrowed your eyebrows together immediately turning off the ringer to silence the noise. 587 text messages, 107 missed calls, 107 voicemails to accompany those missed calls, and let’s not count the emails, Instagram DM’s, and Facebook messages. They were pretty much all from Erik, except for a few texts from your best friend Samantha, Shuri, and T’Challa. Nonetheless, their texts were probably due to Erik pestering them.

Five days. That’s how long you were gone. Five days since your phone was last turned on. You thought Erik should have given up after the first 20 unanswered calls and text messages. You made it very clear that you done this time. Matter of fact, you promised you were done. You opened the stream of Erik’s texts trying to scroll as much as you could to get a glimpse where he was mentally. His texts went from being riddled with arrogance and indifference, in true Erik Stevens form, to desperate and apologetic, then came the slue of “I love you’s”. You slouched in your seat behind the steering wheel and continued to skim the texts rolling your eyes.

The most recent voicemail from Erik made your chest tight as a lump formed in your throat. His voice was laced with venom.

Y/n, you really on some bullshit! How many times do a nigga have to apologize love? I’ve been calling you like I’m FUCKIN’ CRAZY! (He chuckles darkly.)You really gone walk away from everything like that baby? You left me here with our daughter and you don’t even give a fuck. What if something happened to Iman and I was trying to let you know? What the fuck kind of mother are you!? (Iman cried in the background.)

How dare he use her against you? You blinked away tears thinking of your 8-month-old daughter. You loved Iman with your entire being. She was literally the light of your life and string of hope that love still remained in your marriage. You never wanted to leave her but you couldn’t stay. There was also no way in hell Erik would let you take her with you. The night you left he refused to let you take her. Now he was trying to guilt trip you.

Erik cheated.This wasn’t his first affair either. You honestly questioned if this was truly the second affair. You guys were nearing your third year of marriage and he’d already been caught having an affair prior to this. The first time was during your first year of marriage. You’d questioned why he even married you in the first place, but he swore he loved nobody like he loved you and couldn’t live without you. Like the naïve girl you were, you forgave him. This time you couldn’t. You promised if he cheated again, you would walk away and never look back.

--

Erik followed you into you guys shared home, loosening his tie and shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket. You all were just returning home from a benefit hosted by the Wakandan Outreach Center. His eyes fixed on your ample rear-end and wide set hips as they swayed with your vigorous walk. Your black body-con dress flattered every curve. He noted your postpartum weight had provided you with some desirable assets.

He was hot on your trail as you reached the kitchen opening the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water.

You needed a drink of water to hopefully ease the nauseous feeling that developed mid-dinner. As the benefit went on, you were left with your thoughts, which only made you feel worse. On the surface you played it cool, keeping a warm smile and socializing with the benefit goers but still keeping a watchful eye on your husband…and his intern. She felt no shame in openly flirting with him as he fed right into it with his dimpled smile and occasional wink.

Erik snaked an arm around your waist pressing his groin into your butt. You shrugged him off of you rounding the island that centered the kitchen. Erik scoffed in annoyance.

“What the fuck is wrong with you now?”

“YOU-you’re fucking your intern!” The words spilled out of your mouth like word-vomit as tears threatened the rims of your eyes.

Erik clenched and unclenched his jaw before squaring his shoulders his feet planted apart. His almost natural militant stance still screamed righteousness no matter if he had just been called out.

“What intern?” He arched his brow with a smug look.

Before you could think twice, you snatched off your So Kate pumps and threw them directly at his head missing by a few centimeters. He stood there with a look of bewilderment. You knew it would only be a matter of time before he’d try to come after you and that’d be your ass.

“Fuck you Erik! You know exactly who I’m talking about! HOW LONG HUH?! I saw the text messages and nasty ass pictures she sent you last night! Distasteful bitch! Was it her in the video that you lied and tried to say it was random porn?! You must think I’m fuckin stupid!” You screamed.

You grabbed the closest thing to you, which was an empty glass bowl and hurled it in his direction.  Your vision was blurred with tears but your aim was still pretty accurate. Maybe playing softball in your youth did pay off. The bowl hit his built shoulder and went crashing on the floor.

“Stop throwing shit! YES I FUCKED HER OKAY?! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO KNOW? And it was her in the video. But I don’t give a fuck about her!” Erik barked as he stormed toward you.

You might’ve been pissed but you were still a smart bitch. You dodged his reach picking up another dish to throw at him before scurrying to the farther side of the kitchen. You didn’t care if he gave a fuck about his intern or not, he still fucked her. He still made the conscious decision to break your trust and ruin the small family you were building. Your chest heaved as angrily wiped the makeup stained tears from your cheeks.

“YOU OBVIOUSLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ME EITHER! You only care about yourself! You disgust me. I put my dreams and career on hold to cater to you. I never wanted to be a stay at home mom and you knew that! Yet I still did it for us, so that our daughter could at least be around one of her parents consistently. You’re hardly ever home these days! You treat me like shit! You lie to me! You never have time for me. You cheat on me with God only knows how many other women! I’M DONE!”

--

You wipe your stray tears stuffing the phone into your hoodie’s pocket. Your shaky hands fiddled with the keys before pulling them out of the ignition.  You quickly get out of your Range Rover Velar and stroll towards the house. You unlock the house to be met with silence and the familiar scent of home. The scent was a mixture of fresh linen and lavender vanilla from your favorite candles.

You eyes scanned the first floor of the open floor plan home. There was still no sign of Erik. You blew out a sign of relief as you ventured further into the house.  You walked into the living room seeing some of Iman’s toys and a blanket thrown about. Out of habit you collect them, putting them in their respectful places before folding her baby blanket and laying it in the play-pin she had in the living room. A couple pairs of his shoes littered the floor and one of Iman’s bottles. Like her mom, Iman liked to throw things and with good aim.

“You would think he’d be neater being in the Navy and all.” You scoffed rolling your eyes.

He actually was neat. Often times, neater than you so seeing things out of place were odd. You knew Erik was probably ready to pull his dreads out having to deal with Iman alone for five days. Iman was definitely a busybody, despite not walking yet she could manage to crawl and climb whatever whenever she got the chance. He could finally see how you felt… aside from being cheated on.

A sizable gold photo frame laid faced down on the end table near where most of Iman’s mess was. You picked up the photo taking in the details of its broken glass before focusing in on the actual picture. It was a picture of your wedding day. Another item you attempted to throw at Erik in your heated rage. You and Erik looked like a genuinely happy couple there, nothing forced like the past few months were. You placed your hand over your mouth to hush your sobs. How could you have gotten to this point?

You were never a violent person. You weren’t even easily angered. You were always cool and collected trying to see a positive in any situation. Conflict just wasn’t your thing but mostly due to you being so sensitive. Erik had always joked that you were the calm to his storm. That you were, the calm always willing to offer comfort and rationality so when it came to the point where your love was being taken advantage of you exploded. It was your turn to bring the storm.

Erik stood in the distance taking in the sight of you. Your curly hair thrown in a messy topknot as a few tight curls escaped, hanging freely around your face. Your honey brown golden skin looked like it lost a bit of color, as if you were indoors for the entire five days or maybe sick. Your almond shaped eyes were puffy, nose a bit red, and already full lips looked a little swollen. No matter how disheveled another person may have thought you looked, he saw your beauty. The same beauty that captured him from the first moment he set eyes on you. Erik’s face contorted into a frown as he hastily wiped his own tears.

You must’ve felt him staring because you looked up only to lock eyes with him. Your breathing hitched as he walked closer to you but you didn’t move, you couldn’t move. Here was the alleged love of your life and very sight of him made you want to punch him in the face, vomit, cry, hate him, love him and be held all at the same time. It physically pained your stomach.

Erik reached out and touched your hand causing you to pull back as if being shocked by electricity.

“I just came to get my things. I’ll be leaving shortly.” You said just above a whisper your eyes shifting to the floor.

“Please-please don’t leave.” Erik croaked only to be met with silence. You stared at him with a blank expression.

“Where’s Iman?” You muttered.

“She’s in her nursery taking a nap.” He sounded defeated as he tossed the baby monitor on the couch. You nodded attempting to walk around him only to be stopped.

“Wait! I-I know I fucked up. I just want to apologize baby. I was wrong for being a fucked up husband and cheating. I was being selfish. I felt like I was losing myself by giving my all to you and I’m sorry. I allowed my ego get the best of me. You didn’t deserve none of the shit I put you through--”

“You’re right you are selfish. You ain’t shit for what you did to me.” You cut him off.

He dropped his head looking at his feet. Erik nodded before looking into your eyes and grabbing your hands. His large calloused hands engulfing your small delicate ones.

“Just hear me out Y/N. I love you with all of my being. You and Iman are the best things that have ever happened to me and I don’t even deserve y’all. I can’t take losing another person I love. I need you baby. If I gotta beg you for your forgiveness everyday I will. I already fired her. Shit, I’ll even go to marriage counseling. Whatever it takes. We can re-build; take it as slow as you need…Fuck! I don’t—I can’t let you walk away. Just don’t leave me baby.” Erik gripped your hips his fingertips digging into your flesh.

Your gaze studied the intricate scars adorning his forearms. Without thought, your fingers traced the pattern. He leaned down pressing his forehead against yours. You dared not to look in his eyes. A teardrop hitting your nose caught you off guard. You took in a sharp breath chewing on your bottom lip. In the many years of knowing your husband, you can count on one hand how many times you’d seen him cry. You draped your arm around his neck stroking the back of his head.

“It’s going to take more than an apology to get your family back. I refuse to raise childrenin a toxic environment.” You said just above a whisper.

Iman’s wails echoed through the baby monitor. You immediately broke away from Erik rushing up the stairs to her nursery. You missed your baby and not having her was the worse part of those five days.  You scooped Iman up in your arms rocking her as you kissed all over her round golden face. Her cries subsided as she offered you a two-toothed grin flexing the dimples in her chubby cheeks, Erik’s dimples.  

“Mommy’s here. I’m so sorry my sweet girl.” You clung to her as tears fell down your cheeks.

“Y/N…” Erik called out as he stood in the doorway with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

You turned around to face him with a raised eyebrow.

“I found the pregnancy tests in our bathroom.” Erik stated plainly.

You never got around to telling him but you’d known you were pregnant for at least two weeks.

“I never hid them…”

[roseamongroses]

W.A.L: “Never Gonna Get it “(9)

Summary:It wasn’t a matter of whether or not they were worthy.It was a matter of who wanted it more. And now they were firmly on the wrong side of history. A history of unfathomable powers and all-knowing immortals, ancient forests and beasts, and a Stranger who wanted to challenge it all.

Vibes/ Tags:time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

Warnings: Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries,  Mentions of past Death, repression, cursing,

Characters: Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani

Ship: Roceit

1) (2)   (3)  (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

---

A file slid across the table. 

Emile didn’t look up, his chair squeaking as he shifted one leg over another,   “Logan, you heard what I said, you won’t be on any field missi--”

“Until Patton recovers?” Logan finished, “His physical therapy’s been going well and he’s passed his mental health assessment.” He stood, hands clasped and stance unwavering, so much so you could hardly notice the bags under his eyes. 

Emile thumbed the pages, but didn’t open the file yet, “What about your mental health assessment?” He asked, and Logan grew still, “Ms. Dana mentioned it had been awhile since you’ve scheduled an appointment...”

“I got busy,” Logan’s lips were tight. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not scolding, only being a bit of a worry wart,” Emile poured more honey into his tea, stirring methodically, “I know it isn’t required of all apprentices, but it is recommended to help with the stress. Especially with offerings coming up…” 

“I’m fine, now.” Logan muttered, “I overreacted before. “

“Having any feelings is not an overreaction,” Emile sighed, setting down his tea cup, before flipping through the file, his face growing more grim, “This plan isn’t your best, Logan. ” he said, “But...it isn’t your worst.”

Logan nodded, “My brother is still suspected to have stronger sensory capabilities then we have on record,” he pulled out his notebook and continue  to list, “And there's always a risk that the Unknown has sensory based magic as well, or worse, strong combative magic.” 

“Yes, and…?”

“There is a strong chance,” Logan flipped a page, “A possibility,” he squinted at the blurred ink, “That Roman might drop a mountain on our heads.” 

“Can you make it so there’s no possibility?”

Logan shrugged, “I’ll make some adjustments,”

---

A Complete History of Creatures, Beasts, And Others Blessed by the Goddess

1001 Theories On Why The Goddess Continues to Sleep: Will We Ever Repent?

Where was the Goddess's Actual Last Resting Place: A Five Part Analysis

Dirty, Musty, Dusty Languages For Absolute Buffoons (Yes You!!!)

These among numerous others, were assigned by the Stranger, in between the strenuous exercises and questionable lectures of life advice --- which often approximated to “Repress that shit.” Which, to be fair Eden was trying. 

Dot was more useful than the Stranger, but she was useful in a kind, approachable way that made Eden uncomfortable. Maybe he was waiting for the catch. 

Still, she explained everything, showing them around the village and introducing Aleseners customs to with an almost analytical pride. She ensured the Stranger didn’t work them into an early fucking death, but she was still… odd with anything too human. As in, she knew more than any other Alesener about human customs, but most of what she knew lacked context, as if they were merely a fascinating fantasy. 

All of it was odd, to be completely honest, but as their time in the Aleseners’ village progressed, it became the new normal. Magical exercises in the mornings, creature handling in the evenings, and studying through most of the night. 

Right about now, Eden was trying not to pull out his hair. 

In front of him were strewn various guides about controlling magic, all of which were largely unhelpful for shapeshifting. Sure, he could now blend into his environment, but now he had to learn how to become other people. Which was hard. Really, really hard. 

“What about this?” Roman said, rolling over to  show a particularly dusty book. The book read: “Creatures Dead and Dying: A Complete, Extensive Report.”

“Very funny,” Eden rolled his eyes, idly scanning the pages in front of him. 

“No-nuno-Really, look!” Roman whined, shoving the book on Eden’s lap before he could protest, “Look right here,”

“That’s what you said last--” Eden took a second look, “Huh, that actually might be useful.” he admitted, reading the page more thoroughly, “The hell…”

The page detailed an old type of magic folk, Unnamed, known for their camouflage, reptilian traits, and tendency to congregate near humans. Most of them were largely driven out or killed… There are no known records of them currently living-- the Council decred them dead centuries ago-- but there are plenty of theories about how they honed their craft. 

“Find anything useful?” Roman asked leaning on Eden’s shoulder and squinting at the tiny text and darkly stained photos. 

“Some first hand accounts and…” Eden blushed, “Uh a lot about sex.” he mumbled flipping through the accounts faster,  “A ridicolous amount about sex--what the hell--” he fought through his embaressment and read through the pages again ,“Oh.”

“So you are getting a hemipe-”

Eden held up a hand, “Absolutely not, ” he shushed, still engrossed in the book.

“So you need to get laid?” R

oman said, “Is that it?”

 “For someone so modest, you’re filthy.” Eden batted Roman’s prodding hands away. 

“I’m not--it was a genuine question,” Roman’s pouted, “But what else does it say?” 

“I think...it’s an act of intimacy, cause there are some accounts talking about weddings and...funera--” Eden flipped that page abruptly, “I guess it’s easier to keep form if you know the person well, mentally, physically. Kinda like a memory, the stronger the memory is the better the shift.” Eden concluded, “Though I guess the more I do it, the less I’ll need to actually know.” 

“Oh, that’s all?” Roman said, “Do me, then.” 

“Again,  filthy,” Eden said as Roman scooted in front of him, “I’ll start with your face,” he continued hands cradling Roman’s lax face. 

He studied them, carefully tracing the dips of their face. The dimples in their cheeks, and the roundness of their nose. Eden felt his scales slowly but surely morph. Slowly, but surely he mimicked the wrinkles under Roman’s big, silver eyes and how their eyelashes fanned dark onto their cheeks. 

Roman leaned down a bit to give Eden a better look, nimble fingers digging into Eden’s shirt, legs pressed close. He was humming that lullaby. And Eden felt that song creep into the shift, softening too harsh lines, breathing life into the illusion. 

 Eden’s thumb swept the bottom of Roman’s lips, the melody warm under his hands. Roman warm under his hands, as he traced their lips, feeling the soft--

Eden’s breath hitched, and like that and the illusion was broken. 

“What happened?” Roman asked, half dazed.

“I got distracted.” he admitted. 

“What... were you distracted by?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it, “ Eden scowled, “Now stop fidgeting-- Roman,” Eden hissed -- like actually hissed -- as he caught Roman’s hands in his, while starting the process all over again. It seemed to calm Roman down a bit now that he had something to play with, but realistically Eden knew that it wouldn’t last for long so he worked quickly. 

This time it was a lot easier, but it was at such an ineffective pace he knew he’d have to get faster. He can’t do... this to every person he tries to mimic. Eden has a feeling they won’t be as willing as Roman. 

“I think,” Eden squinted,  “I’m done, how does it look?”

“Huh,’ Roman’s gaze was critical, “You’ve nearly got all my freckles.” 

“How would you even--Nearly?” Eden looked offended.

“I stare at myself a lot Eden,” Roman said sagely, “So I know when something’s off. I think you missed a few around my mouth and chin, but I doubt anyone else would notice.” 

“I would--” Eden grumbled, fighting the itch to go back and fix it--instead letting his face revert back. 

Roman rolled his eyes, “Ever the perfectionist,” he said, “What? Are you going to memorize every inch of my body--”

“Of course,” Eden said without missing a beat.

“I…” Roman gaped, wide eyed,“Are you serious?”

“Why…” Eden realized, his eyes narrowing with a calculated smile, “Why of course, I have to. It’s an intimate act, afterall Roman, what do you expect?” 

“W-well,” Roman couldn’t look away, “It doesn’t always have to be, right-”

“Maybe so, but,” Eden said, interlocking their hands with a bastard grin, “It’s my first time. I want it to be...perfect.” 

“I hate this, I hate  you,” Roman whined, rose buds popping up in his hair, “Go back to being grouchy--and broody, Goddess be damned.”  

“You’re still holding my hand,” Eden said pointedly.

“I can multitask.” 

---

The door was oddly foreboding. 

 It was a pristine, sterile white. Even in the hallway the distinct sting of clean was in Virgil’s nose and watering his eyes. Normally the medic bay was bustling with apprentices and careless mentors, but today it was quiet and the door was closed. The offerings and all that nonsense was getting prepped afterall. But instead of helping with preparations or even being on a mission, Virgil was here.

 He was trying to force words out of his dry throat, trying to work up the nerve to knock on the door and apologize. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t had a chance before, these long weeks of watching Patton lay there. Simply lay there, his skin dull of any light and his eyes--when they finally opened-- weak and resigned. 

“You’re safe.” Was the only thing Patton had managed to say while being there. 

As if it was a miracle that Virgil was hardly scathed, as if Patton had not nearly been crushed to death getting Virgil out of the way. As if he hadn’t trusted every warning Virgil gave without hesitation —as if he hadn’t trusted Virgil without hesitation only to get suspicion in return. 

Virgil’s suspicion  was irrational—it was always irrational, but Virgil could never shake it. Even now, when Patton was basically out of commission, he felt dread coil tight in his gut at the thought of being friendly.

  Patton had basically saved his life, yet Virgil couldn’t trust him. Like how he could couldn’t fully trust Logan, like he could never fully trust Dr. Picani, like how he couldn’t trust himself when remembering that day. When the river ran cold between his finger tips, only the burning of the vial keeping him awake. 

Keeping him vigilant. 

Reminding him that while he got lucky that time there was always a chance he would come back—

He’s panicking. 

He needs to breathe. He’s in the medical wing, the obnoxiously white medical wing. He can taste clean on his tongue and most importantly he was safe. 

He can apologize. 

So he opened that white door, and was greeted with a white, empty bed. He didn’t even bother to read the note Logan had left behind. 

[tonyspepper]

Pepperony Week 2019: ↳ day 7: au · pepper potts is assigned to protect tony collins, howard stark's illegitimate son. tony has become the target of amon stark, his older half brother, who allegedly murdered his father to get millions in inheritance. [based on this post]

Read on AO3

As I started writing this, I got more and more ideas for a multi-chap story so I decided to take 4 different points in time in hopes of maybe sparking your interest :x

“Here’s your new assignment. Take a few minutes to read over everything and tell me if you’re up for it.”

Fury handed her a folder with all the information she needed. Virginia opened the file, and saw the picture of a man. She knew that face. She had seen it on newspapers, magazines, and all over the internet—Howard Stark was everywhere. Reading through the first page of the dossier, her eyes widened. She stared at the text, waiting for her mind to wrap itself around the news it bore, then she looked at Fury.

“Howard’s death was no... It was no accident?” she asked, flipping the page to continue reading.

“We’re not sure, but it looks like his son had something to do with it. You know, it’s easy to get rich quick if your father’s pockets are full of money.” He paused. “Unless Daddy doesn’t like sharing.”

“So you think that boy killed his father to get his inheritance?”

On the second page of the report, there was another picture. This time, it was of a young man in his thirties. He was lean but muscular. His face was strong but handsome and distinctive-looking. Virginia had never seen that guy before but was immediately smitten by his looks.

“There was a catch,” Fury said, tapping his finger on the folder, and the photo she was looking at.

“Which is where this guy comes in?”

“Anthony Collins, Howard Stark’s illegitimate son. Stark didn’t want anything to do with him, but he did pay child support to the mother, Maria. Managed to keep it a secret. Now that he’s dead—“

“His son found out the money isn’t all his,” she connected the dots. “And now you want me to protect that Collins guy until Stark junior is convicted of murder?”

He nodded. “We don’t have enough evidence yet. We need time. Amon Stark’s going to make a mistake at some point, and when he does, we will be there to put him behind bars. Until then, I need you to protect Collins.”

“Why me?”

“Because, believe it or not, you’re the best one I have for this job.”

Fury looked at her with unconcealed pride. Virginia Potts may still be young compared to her colleagues, who were all in their late forties and early fifties, and she may appear meek and mild on the outside, but she was fierce and brave inside, and her mind was so sharp she could slay vampires with it—well, that was if they actually existed. She knew how to function under pressure better than anyone else, and Fury trusted her with not just anyone’s life but even his own.

They spent over an hour discussing the details. Fury told her that Tony’s aunt Peggy Carter had asked for a bodyguard to protect her nephew so that Virginia knew why her client could be a bit hesitant to follow orders, as he thought he didn’t need a bodyguard. Tony Collins was a tech genius whose start-up company was on the rise, generating him a great deal of buzz that meant attending public events, and therefore put him at an even greater risk of becoming the victim of an attempted murder. By the end of the meeting, Virginia had a feeling that her next assignment would be a lot of work.

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

”I don’t need to dance with you, Mr. Collins, I’m your bodyguard,” she said, looking up at him as he held his hand out to her, waiting for her to take it.

“And I expect you to guard me at all times, even on the dance floor, Ms. Potts,” he replied, grinning at her.

“If this is just an excuse to get close to me, I quit.”

“No excuse. If I wanna get close to you, I go somewhere my brother’s snipers will have a clear field of fire and wait for you to yell at me.”

Tony knew she was pretending to be that whole suave, emotionless deadpan of a guard—she had been trying to play that role all night—but he had also seen her trying not to smile at his gold-worthy jokes.

Virginia took her job very seriously. He saw her posted outside the door or behind him during long, boring board meetings, and she kept her stance and form perfectly straight the entire time. He wondered if she ever had a good night’s sleep, because if he had to guess, he’d say she never really closed her eyes for more than an hour. Sometimes he wished he had better luck in taking her mind off the job so that she could relax for just one moment. She deserved as much for being willing to give her life to protect him.

“C’mon, please,” Tony tried to get her out of her shell, his look sincere, and his eyes pleading. “Just one dance, and then you can go back to, um... doing your thing.”

Sighing, Virginia got up from the chair and adjusted her dress with the same composure that she had all along maintained. She usually wore her gun in a holster at her side, but right now, she kept it hidden underneath her clothes. She was armed with a knife, too. He had seen her buckling an extra belt under her dress to hold it. Virginia’s legs—those impossibly long, shapely legs—carried two weapons solely for his protection, and that was by far the sexiest thing he had ever known. When she took his hand, he couldn’t help but smile.

They danced, swaying to the music, entangled in a soft embrace, their bodies finding a way to communicate with each other on the dance floor. It worked beautifully. But she was constantly looking away, eyeing their surroundings, and it bothered him. That was just not how he imagined dancing with a beautiful woman.

“Can you look at me for a moment and not stare at other people?” he asked, chuckling.

She gave him a lopsided smile and an exasperated, “You’re interfering with my work.”

He smirked, telling her, “As long as I’m with you, I feel like the safest person in the world, knowing you would take a bullet for me.”

“I’d take a bullet for any of my clients, don’t read into it too much,” she countered, rolling her eyes.

“Aw, you’d really take a bullet for me!”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he quipped.

“You seem to be under the false impression that I will never get annoyed with you because you’re my boss, but I’m actually this close to killing you myself.”

His lips topped up in a teasing grin and his dimple popped out. “How would you do it? Would you strangle me with those gorgeous, long legs?”

Virginia felt her jaw drop. Of course she had noticed him checking her out once, but this was the first time Tony made a comment like that, and it took her completely off guard.

“You know, I always wondered... why you.”

“Why me what?” she growled.

“Why are you my bodyguard? How can you be? I mean you’re smart, and you know how to handle a weapon... I think...” Not that she ever had to use one—yet. “But if I’d be attacked, like, really needed to be protected, could you even tackle me?”

“I can tackle your scrawny ass right now and then chain you to that wall over there, if you want me to prove a point,” she said, callously.

Laughing out loud, he teased, ”I’d like to see you try.”

Tony slipped his fingers slowly down her back, just inside the edge of material of her blue backless dress, until he reached the base of her spine.

“That’s too low.” She glared at him, snarling quietly.

“I’m not even touching your as—Ouch! Fine... okay,” he groaned, as his face contorted with the pain of his finger being bent back until it almost cracked with a sound. “You’re supposed to protect me, not hurt me.”

“I knew this was a mistake,” she said with a sigh.

“Taking this job?”

“Dancing with you.”

”Hey, I think we’re doing pretty great considering everyone is watching us.”

“W–What?”

“Or maybe they’re watching us because we’re so good at this.”

Turning her face away from him, Virginia noticed that almost everyone in the room was staring at them while they danced. There were even a few reporters taking pictures. She felt her cheeks flush and glanced at Tony. He was smiling at her as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. But it was. It was to her. She was supposed to keep this relationship strictly professional, but there she was, so close to him that she could feel his breath on her skin. And she let him distract her from paying attention to the scene and doing her job.

“We can’t do this... I can’t do this,” she said, pulling away, but Tony held her captive in his arms.

“If you leave me standing on the dance floor, you’re making me look bad.”

“My only concern is your safety, Mr. Collins.”

He grinned. “Well, if that‘s so, then let me tell you, Ms. Potts, I feel very safe right now... Here, in your arms.”

Virginia rolled her eyes, hissing out a breath. “Is everything a game to you?”

“Pretty much,” he answered, amused. “Life’s more fun that way.”

“Yeah, you know what isn’t fun?” She looked him right in the eyes. “Losing a client because you’ve been careless for just one second.”

Tony studied her for a minute, his grin fading slowly, and then his sloshed brain realized that something was seriously wrong with her. He had hit a raw nerve. It was almost like her controlled facade was finally beginning to crumble, and he could see the soft, vulnerable woman beneath.

“Have you...” Tony gulped down the fear that her answer would make him become emotional and cause his own facade to crack—he really wasn’t the rude bastard Virginia made him out to be. Then he tried again, “You lost someone, didn’t you?”

She swallowed hard, averting her eyes, as his question awoke bitter memories. It was a question that proved he already knew the answer since it was phrased in a way that would require her to lie if she were to deny it. But she wasn’t ready to talk about it. And they weren’t friends or anything, so she didn’t even have to talk to him about it. It was none of his business.

Virginia cleared her throat, forcing the lump to go down deep inside of her, and simply stated, “I need a drink.”

He frowned. Okay, message received. She didn't want to talk about it. That didn't mean he was going to let it rest, though. He was intrigued now, wanting to know more about her, her life. Because if he had to guess, he would say she had quite a story to tell. There was so much more to her than she let on, and he was eager to get to know her better.

“Are you even allowed to drink on the job,” he asked, and she shook her head.

“But I need a goddamn martini,” Virginia mumbled, “Very dry, with olives, a lot of olives. Like, at least three olives.” Seeing the amused look on his face, she huffed a breath through her nose. “Why am I even telling you this? My job is to protect you, not talk to you.”

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

“Are you okay?”

He turned to her and looked at her in shock, stammering the words out, “Y–Yeah, I–I think so… Yes.”

“We gotta get outta here,” she said, her voice soothing as warm chocolate.

Tony was amazed at her hardiness, simply amazed. He had never encountered a woman armored at every point like a tank on a battlefield. She was that tank. Even after a bomb had gone off, blowing up his car and killing his driver—it had almost killed him, too—Virginia stayed completely calm. People were shrieking, panicking, falling over themselves in an effort to get away, while she was simply standing there, holding him by the arm, as she tried to figure out their next move.

She was sharp as a tack and just as prickly, the smartest woman he had ever met. He knew she had multiple plans and backup plans in case anything went wrong, but he was still amazed at how she could be so unfazed by what had happened when his whole body was literally shaking. He still made a conscious effort to steady his breathing, and before he could even see it coming, she tackled him down for protection. He grunted, realizing he had definitely underestimated her physically as a bodyguard. With her strength and agility, she could probably take down three men twice her size before they could even blink.

They were on the ground. The chaos as a result of the attack was a melee of noise around them. He was shielded right under the unshakable hold of Virginia’s arms. She wasn’t looking at him, she was watching for the threat. Tony didn’t know what she had seen or heard, but he could see it written all over her face—real fear, an actual fear that he was going to get hurt. And yet the fear didn’t seem to stop her. There was determination in Virginia’s eyes, too. She was determined to quell the fear by eliminating the threat with everything she had. She wasn’t going to let anything happen to him, and even though Tony knew that it was her job to protect him, the realization hit him like a stone anvil.

Virginia Potts would give his life for him. She would let herself be shot, blown up, or stabbed just so he could live. What had he ever done to deserve that?

“What is it?” he asked, “What do you see?”

“Stay down,” she commanded him. “There are too many people out here, and then there’s the smoke… I don’t have a clear view of the street. I don’t know if… We need to wait.”

Tony swallowed. For the first time since he met her, she was actually making the impression as if she were worried, as if she didn’t know what to do, and that definitely wasn’t a good sign. His hands began to shake uncontrollably. He tried to hide it from her, but the look in her eyes, as she cast him a glance, made it obvious she had already become aware of it.

“You’ll be okay,” she reassured him, even flashing him a smile. “But we’re gonna stay at my place tonight. I’m not taking any chances.”

“Y–Your… place?”

Little frown lines ceased Tony’s forehead. He didn’t even know she had a place. Well, of course, he did, but since Virginia was a bodyguard, he just figured she might be sleeping in hotel rooms all the time to save money on rent. She had told him once that she hadn’t really had a day off in years, so he was surprised to hear she actually had a place where she lived, a place she called home. It made him wonder what her apartment would tell him about her life, her character, and what kind of a person she was outside the job.

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

The first time Virginia Potts met Anthony Collins, she had thought of him as an obnoxious, arrogant little fancy brat who couldn’t stop running his mouth. He was dramatic, cocky and rude, and she had been done with him not only a month after she had taken on the assignment. She remembered the day when Tony had kept pushing her buttons until she snapped and pushed him against the wall, telling him not to mess with her. He had been visibly intimidated by her strength, even more than the moment she’d first tackled him. And after that, something had changed.

Virginia had decided to dug deeper, had gotten to know him better, and the more she did, the more she realized that the loud and obnoxious man, who was acting like a child most of the time, was just a sad boy, hiding behind all this arrogance and an inflated ego. When she looked at him now, she saw a completely different man. Tony Collins was nothing like she thought he was. His pretentious persona was meticulously constructed and engineered. He embodied it and made it a reality, and he wore it like a suit of armor around him, protecting the man who was inside, the man that had a heart. It amazed her how easy he made it look, carrying that fake skin like he owned it, but even more than that, it saddened her that Tony even felt like he had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t.

“It’s so great to see you, Pep.” He gave her a smile, as she came into the room, and she was struck by how it lit up his eyes. “I was just thinking about you.”

He was lying on the couch in front of the fireplace, one hand behind his head and the other holding a book. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him read something that wasn’t tech-related. Who would have thought that even after all this time he still managed to surprise her?

“Hey, Tony…” She watched him as he dropped his book and sat up, that smile never leaving his face. “Can we talk?”

“How about we talk over dinner? I can make us something to eat. And by that, I mean I will try not to blow up the kitchen,” he said with a chuckle.

“This really can’t wait, Mr. Collins.”

Tony’s expression turned bleak when she reverted to being formal. She couldn’t help herself. Addressing him by his last name was the only way she could keep her emotional distance, something she hadn’t done for far too long. She knew he must have a thousand thoughts going through his mind right now. She knew he knew something serious was going on from the way he was looking at her.

The expression on his face damn near broke her heart, and it was going to go a lot worse when he heard her next move, but she‘d made up her mind. She didn’t want to do this, but she had to. It was better that way—for both their sakes. It was more for his good than hers, she told herself. He was entitled to someone’s undivided impersonal attention, not a woman who was fast becoming interested in her client in all the ways a woman was drawn to a desirable man.

”I need you to release me from your service,” she cut right to the chase, her voice slightly unsteady.

Tony’s face took on an expression of deep confusion and he cleared his throat. “I don’t think I’m following you here…”

“Fury will find someone else to protect you. I just need you to tell him—“

“But why would you wish to leave?”

He raised his voice at the end of the sentence, as if he was angry with her for making that decision without consulting him first. Then he stood up and walked over to her, and she took a step back so that he couldn’t touch her.

“Why do you want to leave?” he repeated the question, his voice soft and calm now, almost a whisper.

“Because I love you,” she said, and even as Virginia steeled herself to say goodbye, the look that passed over his eyes touched a place in her heart she hadn’t known was there. Falling in love with him had changed everything.