#ive been prisoned to get only ready made bags and not pick ones I really want

[thatcharmingjerk]

Can we stop 'rona so I can buy assorted candies again

[sun-summoning]

part ii | part iii | part iv

after speaking to kido, sakura rushes home. when she calms down from the rage that nearly had her crush his throat, sakura can admit that she doesn’t really think this is him. he knew a lot about her for someone that was supposed to have been locked up all this time, but he seemed genuinely surprised to hear that sarada had been taken, if not disappointed. he fit the profile of what shikamaru and kakashi thought -- that someone wanted sarada for her eyes -- but sakura can’t stop the nagging feeling that somehow this runs deeper.

back in her apartment, megumi’s body is right where she left it, and sakura feels awful for having moved so mechanically. megumi was an orphan, but she was still someone’s little girl. ashamed, sakura lays a sheet over her and swears she’ll do more later.

she heads to her bedroom and begins her work. alone, she summons one of the cats she’d made a contract with shortly after her marriage. the black cat is sleek and holds himself confidently. he’s always been an efficient one, quick to do as she needs and be competent about it. he regards sakura with a cock of his head.

“sarada’s been taken.”

“your daughter.”

“yes.” 

the cat nods. “i shall inform the clowder. if anyone spots her, i will let you know.”

“thank you.” sakura pauses, self-conscious for needing to rely on everybody else for this part. “if you...if any of you are able to come into contact with sasuke-kun, can you pease let him know too?”

“of course.”

“thank you.” sakura promises to provide the usual exchange at a later time and the cat disappears with a puff of smoke. she heads to her bedroom and she begins to pack in silence. 

her movements are as meticulous as they are automatic, done just so she’s ready to leave the moment she knows where she needs to go. her medkit is stocked. her bag has scrolls, weapons, supplies, and sarada’s favourite toy. she changes out of her days clothes and into the leggings and turtleneck of a uniform she hasn’t worn in years. her cloak is in the front closet. she needs to change her boots. she’ll put on the boots now. she leaves the armour on her bed to don later. right now, they only hinder her movements. she goes to the drawer where her mask hides in plain sight among other trinkets and knick knacks, and on the dresser she notices a flower.

sakura stills as she takes in the detail she must have missed in her earlier haste. she considers the simple glass vase and the single red flower sitting in it. its petals curl at the ends and some are even missing. 

this flower has travelled and as sakura considers what it is, she knows it’s travelled far. 

-

konoha became unbearable by the time she tuned twenty. it's so petty and selfish and she'd never say it aloud, but she hated seeing everyone else so happy. she's happy too -- has so many reasons to be -- but she couldn’t help the nagging jealousy she feels when ino declined her invitations because she was going to see sai or when naruto prioritized her almost always only to head home to hinata.

she wanted to be someone's too. she wanted to be their focus and heart and home, but sakura already knew who her someone was and knew that on some level she was his too, so all she needs to do right now is wait.

most of the time, sakura wasn’t bitter. being apart from him wasn't unfamiliar, nor the steadfastness, nor the hope that one day this will pay off one day, nor the self reminders that what she felt was irrelevant as long as sasuke knew and was comforted by the fact that she would always love him.

to suppress her frustrations rather than confront them, sakura worked. she worked tirelessly and relentlessly and by nineteen, they'd named her the greatest medical ninja konoha has ever seen for her accomplishments, ideas, and innovations.

this took her to suna at twenty and to ame at twenty-one to help establish their own clinics.

“i have a gift for you,” ino told her before she left. 

sakura expected a ribbon or a piece of jewellery or that new book on poisons she mentioned she was interested in. instead, ino handed her a bag. its contents shift, imbalanced, and inside sakura finds a potted plant. 

“a flower?”

“not just any flower, you ungrateful bitch.” ino pointed at her accusingly and then at the plant. its petals are a bright red with darker flecks at their base. “i made it.”

“you made it?”

“yes. you know me, interrogating and mind-reading by day, splicing plants together and making my own by night.”

“that’s sad.”

“fuck you. you’re sad.”

sakura laughed and ino laughed too but it got a bit sad because ino probably definitely knew that sakura was sad. “anyway,” ino continued, “we’ll call it the sakuino flower--”

“how creative.”

“--and i expect you to keep it alive through all of your travels.”

sakura frowned at ino, wondering if ino understood that a potted plant had no place in her travels, but ino didn’t seem to care. moreover, this particular thing didn’t seem to have the ability to survive in the desert climate she was going to be living in for the next six months. 

when sakura expressed as much, ino waved the matter off. “deal with it,” she said, giving sakura one last hug. “you’re one of the brightest minds to come out of this village. you’ll figure something out.”

-

its common name is the fire poppy, having originated from the fire country but somehow managing to survive in the deserts of wind country as well. the flower is know for its vibrant red petals, eye-catching and jarring across the barren brown it’s normally found in. sakura had to play with the original plant’s physiology when she first moved to ensure it could survive the alternate climate. in her spare time, when she wasn’t working with the kids, she deigned to work with her plant, eventually working on cloning the original. at some point she’d given one to a nurse she worked with who much admired the first, and gaara asked if he could try planting them in his garden. from there, the spores began to spread.

“why the fire poppy?”

was this someone from suna?

sakura considers the obvious motivation of revenge, but who would even want that? there were people who didn’t appreciate her friendship with kankuro or any of his siblings. perhaps an apprentice of chiyo’s who blamed sakura for not saving her when she gave her life for gaara’s. worse, perhaps someone that once worked sasori who resented her for his demise. or maybe someone she, sadly, can’t even remember. a patient she lost during the war whose family hated her.

sakura truly cannot pinpoint a motivation for this, much less a person. 

especially a person that would understand the meaning of this flower for her. 

ino would never give her this flower. ino would have scoffed at it and created her own. sarada couldn’t have picked it today. and sasuke certainly couldn’t have left it for her.

someone was in her apartment. someone brought it here. 

was it here before?

sakura considers the poppy and forces herself to keep calm. stay logical, she demands. stay smart. was the poppy there before? no, she thinks at first. she would have seen it. she’s certain she would have seen it.

but, she can accept, it’s possible she might have missed it. sarada was taken. her babysitter was murdered. it wouldn’t be surprising if sakura missed it. but sakura doesn’t miss things. right?

“don’t gaslight yourself,” she orders. 

no, she knows. the flower was not there before, meaning in between her going to kakashi, going to the prison, and then running back home, whoever took her daughter came back.

or worse, there was a team involved and one was with her child and another came back for her. 

sakura curses, wishing she’d put on her black ops armour earlier, because whoever brought the flower here is now making their presence known. she senses two people before she sees them and is unsurprised to find sudden flares of strength.

the bedroom is small and they’re in a building. she needs to take this outside, but where? there’s too much risk for others getting hurt in the crossfire. that’s why this was supposed to stay quiet. that’s why this will stay quiet.

they step out of the shadows and sakura assesses them quickly. one male, one female, both fairly young based on stature and development, maybe early twenties at the oldest. they’ll have agility on her, but they won’t have her experience. 

the man holds a chokuto. good. an advantage. sakura is excellent at fighting against such a weapon. if they’re foolish enough to use her husband’s favourite sort of blade, perhaps they didn’t do enough research on her. perhaps they were hired? but if they were unprepared, then were they really here to kill her? 

are they here to distract her?

that thought fills sakura with dread. is someone trying to keep her busy so she can’t get to sarada on time?

the woman shifts, one leg sliding to the side as she raises her hands. she holds no weapons, therefore she is the weapon. sakura knows all about that. she’ll need to be careful with this one. but she still has a holster on her thigh. it’s thinner that the usual styles. maybe a couple kunai, but more likely a set of sebon. this one is smart then. she’ll know precisely where she needs to hit sakura to stop her.

“haruno sakura,” the man greets with a short nod.

so it is her fault.

if this was about sasuke, about the uchiha, they would know her married name. this is about her, and for that sakura feels worse. her baby was taken and why? just to hurt sakura before killing her? sarada was who knows where with surely no one that could be good and all just to hurt sakura?

sakura snarls, furious in a way only a mother could be, and she feels the chakra pulsing around her fists.

“where is my daughter?”

their masks hide any expressions. they remain at ease in the face of her rage, shockingly unafraid of this woman that can level mountains. 

good, sakura thinks. let them be brave. let them come at her like fools. 

she runs through the bedroom door to get to the living room where there’s at least more space to maneuver. the man leaps and brings his blade down upon her, but sakura manages to shift to the side. careful to not be forced into a corner, she spins out of his range and into the open middle until the woman runs past her partner and takes sakura on hand-to-hand.

she matches sakura’s punches and kicks blow for blow. she’s good, sakura thinks nervously. and she’s fast. she’s small, maybe half a head shorter than sakura, so she puts her weight behind every quick jab. sakura gives most of her attention to the woman, but keeps a wary on eye on the man who sheathes his chokuto.

what as he planning?

it takes that one moment for the woman to catch her unaware. 

sakura chokes on her breath as the woman thrusts a senbon into her shoulder. the shock from that slows her down enough so she can lodge in a second.

“shit,” sakura curses as she stumbles back. she rips the senbon out, but she feels her left arm begin to go numb from the struck pressure point. “what did you do--”

sakura’s eyes widen she she feels something foreign begin to course through her. she considers the senbon, dark with her blood and likely something else. there’s a metallic smell that isn’t from the weapon, and sakura knows she’s been poisoned.

however, her body doesn’t bother to fight it. 

sakura watches her opponents, trying to understand how she’s been poisoned with something she’s immune to and just what poison this might be. she’s immune to everything in konoha’s own collection, as well as the ones she shares with shizune.

which poison is this?

does that matter?

sakura scowls at the two people involved in her daughter’s kidnapping and reminds herself that she can take them on one-handed just fine. she pulls her right hand into a fist and charges. the man is closest, so she lunges at him with a chakra-laden punch that sends him barreling into the wall. 

she grabs the front of his shirt and as she pulls him forward, his mask falls away to reveal green eyes, cold and lifeless, and a black diamond under his left eye that makes her uneasy.

sakura stares at the man, confused, because she knows this face.

she knows him.

her fear and pain and worry makes it hard to focus, but knows him. 

focus.

finally, it clicks. 

“isao?”

she thinks she might have seen something like recognition in his eyes. that doesn’t long though. she left herself open, and his partner stabs her shoulder. sakura releases isao with a cry before the woman punches her in the back of the head and everything goes dark.

-

the sun is up when sakura begins to stir. she hears the birds chirping and people outside going about their days. but the buzz of the television is missing, as are the small thuds of sarada’s steps. where is sarada? sakura wonders hazily, lazily, not quite understanding yet.

where is sarada?

her eyes widen and she sits up so quickly her stomach rolls.

“careful.” tsunade comes into view, steadying sakura and checking her for any problems. “you’re still healing.”

she’s in her own bed. she’s not at the hospital. she got knocked out and the assassins got away. she should’ve done something to track them. dammit. was she so arrogant she didn’t have a failsafe in place for if she didn’t simply beat them? sakura punches the bed, earning a disapproving frown from shizune on her other side.

“there was poison in your system.” 

“it was one of ours,” sakura admits warily. 

“yes. there are very few people with access to those, much less this particular one.”

the one that the assassin used was meant to render a victim paralyzed but still able to feel. it was a dreadful thing, meant only for the worst of interrogations. or, more accurately, for torture. sakura concocted it in her darkest moments at fourteen under shizune’s watchful eye. since then, while they’ve both had small handfuls of keen students, they’ve probably shared poisons from their personal roster with only five people at most.

for this particular poison, sakura knows only two people they showed it to, and only one of those was a student of sakura’s.

“how did you find me?”

tsunade rolls her eyes. “shizune sent you off to a prison from kakashi’s office. i figured i’d have to check on you shortly after. and it’s a good thing i did, stupid girl.”

“thank you.”

“don’t thank me. i’m scolding on you.”

“did they find anything useful?”

“no one’s been able to contact your husband.”

“right.”

“and they’re still under the impression that this has to do with the uchiha blood.” 

“they would be,” sakura mutters, too tired and in too good company to be anything but blunt.

shizune sighs. “do you know who came after you last night?” the flower is still where she left it on the dresser. shizune follows her gaze to the fire poppy, and all knowing with plants as well, shizune determines its origins. “how did that get here?”

“i think it was to taunt me.” sakura grimaces. “you were right.”

“about?”

“i think this is my fault.”

shizune’s eyes widen and quickly soften with sympathy. “none of this your fault,” she reminds sakura. 

tsunade crosses her arms. “enemies of yours then?”

“no.” sakura looks sad. “people i once loved.”

-

tbc

[wonderful-writer]

14 - Mount Weather

Summary: Y/n finds herself in a new place, becoming suspicious of it and it’s motives very quickly. Clarke shares the same suspicion, and both become weary about the safety of the people that didn’t make it into the dropship.

Word Count: 3.90k

Based Off: 02x01, “The 48”

Your eyes fluttered open to an all white room, the brightness stinging your eyes. You closed them tightly again and put your hand over them to block out some of the light, adjusting your eyes to see what was in the room. You sat up in the bed, noticing that you were clean and no longer caked with dirt and blood. Your clothes had been changed, and there was no pain or knife protruding from your backside. 

The room was all white. The sheets, walls, floors, couch, and door were the same shade. However, the only thing that was different was the painting hung up on the wall. It was one of the paintings you recognized from art class as the very famous painting of Napoleon Crossing the Alps. You looked at the painting for a few seconds longer before moving to the door, which had a window showing you the hallway. 

The thing that had caught your attention was the sign on the opposite wall, which read “Mount Weather quarantine ward”. You looked at the door opposite to you to see the window was empty, but it looked like someone was in there because of the messed up pillows on the bed. 

As the memories of the previous night flooded back to you, you began to panic. Bellamy and Finn were gone, possibly dead, and whoever brought you here fixed your stab wound and possibly took the others as well. You couldn’t see any of the other 100, and the thought reached you that you were the only one left. 

If there really was no one from the Ark left alive and you were the only one, how was everything going to go after this? How were you going to get out of wherever you were and live without the grounders attempting to kill you at every turn? 

Everything blurred and you felt tears filling your eyes as you stumbled, pressing yourself against the nearest wall and sliding down it, gripping your hair, which was no longer in braids, and attempting to control this raging panic attack with no one to help you. Your breaths came out shakily and your eyes remained squeezed shut, forcing yourself to think the exact opposite of what you just were in order to get your mind to stop racing. 

You felt time slipping away as you stayed there, before the rage of being all alone and without information took over. You slammed your hands on the floor and pushed yourself up onto your feet, breathing heavily. 

You grabbed the first object you could, that being the IV drip, and throwing whatever bags were on it at the door, the saline spilling down it and pooling on the floor. Then you kicked the tray of medical supplies over, the instruments clattering to the floor loudly, and you made swift movements to the room separator, throwing it to the ground, listening to the loud clunk it made when it hit the linoleum floor.

In the small break of silence you faintly heard glass shattering, but chose to ignore it. You grabbed the pole that the IV bags were hanging off of and ran to the door, shattering the window as your feet stepped in the puddle of saline at the door. You hit the doorknob multiple times, to the point where both the metal rod and the doorknob were dented. 

You moved back, taking a running start at the door, trying to ram it open with the IV pole. You, however, slipped in the saline and glass puddle as you were running, causing you to knock all of the air out of your lungs when you fell over, and feel the familiar ripping of stitches; along with a brand new horizontal cut on your forearm, near the scar Murphy gave you, from a large shard of glass that you landed on.

The IV pole in your hands fell on top of you as you fell, hitting you on the forehead and blurring your vision, as well as sending a dull throb through your head. You watched the bright room grow dimmer, your vision fading back into black as you passed out. Again. 

You woke back up in a different room, one that wasn’t white. You tried to cover your eyes with your hand to block out the light as they adjusted, but your hands were restricted. 

“Y/n?” You heard Clarke’s voice.”Y/n wake up!”

You opened your eyes and saw that you couldn’t move your hands because they were tied down, one restraint just barely overlapping with a bandage they put on for your new cut. You looked to your left to see Clarke sitting on the bed next to you, also restrained, but sitting up.

You did the best you could to do the same, the restraints holding you back. You heard the door hiss open on your right, watching as two guards, a woman in a lab coat, an older man, and a girl came in, along with another guard. 

“Hello, Clarke,” The woman greeted. “How’s your arm?”

Clarke didn’t say anything in response. The woman took a glance at you to see you also awake. “Hello, Y/n, I see you’re awake, too. How are you feeling?”

You did the same as Clarke and just stared at the woman. 

“They’re not very talkative, are they?” She commented. 

“A skill they picked up from the savages, no doubt.” The elderly man said. “Maya has something to say to Clarke first anyway.”

The girl that came in with the rest of them looked up at Clarke, almost scared of her. “You were the next one to be cleared through quarantine. Another 10 minutes and you would’ve-” She was cut off by the older man clearing his throat.

“And then it was supposed to be her.” She looked at you for a second and then turned back to Clarke. “I’m not pressing charges.” “Thank you, Maya.” The old man said. “You can get your treatment now.”

The doctor directed Maya to a bed and the older man looked to the guards. “Restraints aren’t necessary. On either of them.” 

One guard came to untie you and the other went to Clarke. Once the restraints were off, you came to sit at the edge of the bed like Clarke. 

“Dante Wallace,” He introduced himself to Clarke, extending a hand for her to shake. She grabbed it to inspect the black smudges on his hand.

“Oil paint,” He said. “That’s right. You’re an artist too.”

Clarke stood up and asked him who told him that. 

“Your people.” He said. “They also said you and Y/n here were their leaders.” You stood up and went to stand beside Clarke.

“Looks like you two and I have a lot in common, kiddos.” You looked apprehensively to Clarke, who looked back at you the same way. 

“Where’s my watch?” Clarke asked. It was then that you noticed the cool metal of your locket wasn’t present on your chest. 

“And my locket?” You asked. “What did you do with it?”

“I’m sorry, but we can’t let contaminated items inside Mount Weather. We couldn’t risk it.” He told you. “Our protocol is very strict. We prioritize safety over sentimentality.”

“That was the only thing I had left of my mother! The only picture of her and my father are both in there you asshole!” You started to get angry again, but Clarke’s assuring yet sad eyes stopped you from going any further. 

“How many of us did you capture?” Clarke asked, pulling her eyes away from the machine that Maya was hooked up to. You kept your gaze on it, too, curious.

“48, including both of you. But, Clarke, you’ve got it wrong. You’re not prisoners. We saved you.” Dante assured her.

“Well, in that case, you won’t mind if we leave.” You said. “If there are 48 of us here, we still have people out there.”

“The patrol brought in everyone they could find,” Dante told you.  

“What about the Ark? I saw it come down last night.” Clarke asked.

“We saw it,” Dante said. “There were multiple crash sites over 100 square miles. If there were survivors, we will bring them in, too. You have my word.”

“We want to see our people.” Clarke decided. 

“Of course, you do. I would too.” Dante motioned for two guards behind him to roll forward a crate, opening it to reveal an array of clothing and jewellery. You and Clarke marvelled at the sight as Dante spoke again.

“Change and meet me in the hall.” He and the guards left the room, leaving you and Clarke to choose what clothing suited you. 

She chose a pink shirt with a turquoise sports jacket over it and some blue pants that didn’t quite reach the bottom of her calf, along with some simple sneakers. You, however, grabbed a white shirt and some black leggings, with a jacket that was similar to Clarke’s but was black instead of her turquoise and running shoes similar to hers.

She ran her fingers along the shoes before she put hers on, picking up a pair of heels and handing one to you. You followed her actions by snapping off the heel and slipping it underneath your jacket sleeve, ready to use when needed. 

You pushed open the door and saw Dante waiting for the both of you with about 4 guards standing by. The room was very noisy as you walked up to him. 

“Sorry about the noise!” He yelled as you started walking. “Hydroelectric power from the Philpott dam. Fresh water from our own underground reservoir.”

“Fresh food from our hydroponic farm,” He said.

“I don’t understand,” Clarke shook her head. “You’re on the ground, you know it’s survivable. Why would you stay here?”

“It’s not survivable for us,” Dante told you. 

“The grounders seem to have managed.” You said. 

“Natural selection works,” Dante replied. “The grounders who couldn’t survive in the radiation didn’t. Those who could passed on their DNA. For better or for worse, here, we never went through that process.”

“Well, neither did we,” Clarke said. “We’ve been on the ground now for…”

“Solar radiation.” You continued her sentence, coming to the same realization.

“Very good.” Dante smiled. “Your DNA ran the same gauntlet as the grounders. Only because radiation levels in space are even higher, your ability to metabolize that radiation is even stronger.”

You stopped at an elevator and waited for it to come up, Dante still speaking to you and Clarke. “Truth be told, our scientists were blown away with the efficiency of your systems. If not for that, your friends would still be upstairs in quarantine.”

“I have a question,” You said. Dante looked at you and nodded for you to continue. “I wasn’t with the others. I was near the front gate with a knife sticking out of my back. How did I end up here?”

“Well,” Dante responded. “Our patrol found you outside the gate not long after we got there and bought you in with them. And it was a good thing that we did, too. You were almost dead when you got here.”

You nodded and the elevator doors creaked open, Dante allowing you and Clarke to enter the elevator. You both entered hesitantly, watching Dante as the doors began to close. Dante stopped them and held out his hand.

“First, give me the heels.” You looked at Clarke in shock, but reluctantly pulled the heel from your sleeve, pressing it into Dante’s palm with Clarke.

“You’re not fighting for your life anymore, girls. You’ve made it. Welcome to Mount Weather.” The elevator doors closed and brought you both to level 5, the guards escorting you. Clarke began to walk towards the small crowd, where you heard a woman talking. 

“Your packet contains everything you need to know about Mount Weather, which I promise isn’t as confusing as the map on page one makes it out to look. You came from level 3, which houses our medical facility including…” 

The woman's voice was drowned by your Monty’s, saying yours and Clarke’s name. He ran towards you and enveloped Clarke in a hug, while Jasper came to you. 

“I thought you were dead,” He whispered. Once they both let go of you, you hugged Monty and Jasper hugged Clarke, the other delinquents coming to greet you. 

“Finn?” Clarke asked.

“And Bellamy?” You asked. 

“Y/n they uh… they didn’t make it.” Jasper whispered.

“We don’t know that,” Clarke assured everyone. “What about Raven?”

The silence was enough of an answer, the crowd breaking to let the woman you heard before come to meet you.

“Welcome Clarke, Y/n.” She greeted you. “If you have any questions, I’m Keenan.” 

She handed you both packets and walked away with a smile. Your head was spinning. You didn’t know what to think, what to do. Things felt weird around here and you just wanted to go back to the dropship. 

Clarke opened up the packet and looked at the map. You took a glance at it from her packet, not bothered to open your own, the map confusing you.

Later in the day, you were back in the dining hall for lunch, which was the best food you’d ever eaten. While the food was nice, you were still on edge about Mount Weather. Something seemed off. You sat next to Monty as he and Jasper ate dessert, Jasper offering his pie to Monty to try some. 

“My turn,” Jasper said, pointing to the cake on Monty’s plate.

“This? Nah. You won’t like it. The pie is way better.” Monty brushed Jasper off and you giggled under your breath, knowing he was keeping it to himself because he didn’t want Jasper to have any.  Jasper eyed Monty’s plate and tried to take it, but Monty was quicker. 

“Really?” He asked and Monty nodded, fighting a smile. 

They both stood up, dishes clattering, ready to fight for the chocolate cake. Monty moved to the left and Jasper copied, then they both moved to the right and stopped abruptly, seeing Clarke approach the table.

“Hey, Clarke,” Jasper greeted.

“Sit down and pretend you’re happy to see me.” She whispered, sitting down next to Jasper.

“We are happy to see you,” Monty told her, mouth full of chocolate cake.He offered some to Clarke and you laughed as your brother put on a look of fake betrayal.

“I’m not eating their food.” Clarke told him, her eyes on Dante at the head table. She pulled out her packet and showed the map to the three of you. 

“Look,” She said. “They gave us a map with no exits. I need you to tell me everything you’ve seen. Every room, every hallway, every way out.”

“Way out?” Jasper asked. “Look around you, Clarke. There’s no one hunting us here. First time in our lives we’re not hungry. Why would we want to leave?”

“Because we have friends out there who need our help.”

“They’re looking for survivors,” Monty assured her. “And they’re way better equipped to find them than we are.”

“I think she’s right,” You jumped in. “This place, it’s too good to be true. I don’t trust it.”

“You guys are bumming me out. I’m-- I’m gonna get more cake.” Jasper laughed lightly and took his plate as he stood up, making his way to the dessert table. 

You watched him interact with the girl that Clarke attacked earlier, a smile making its way to your face. Clarke watched him, too, an idea springing to her head. She took her packet and looked at you, motioning her head for you to follow her. You both stood up and walked over to Maya and Jasper. 

“Hey,” Clarke put her packet on the table. “It’s Maya, right? I just wanted to say sorry, for this morning. I was scared and worried about my friends; I hope you can understand that.” 

Maya smiled and nodded, still anxious to be around Clarke, who picked up her packet and walked away, the both of you smiling at Jasper and Maya beforehand. Clarke discreetly revealed that she had swiped Maya’s keycard when she left, slipping it in her pocket.

Not long after you left, alarms started blaring throughout the white hallway you were walking down, bright yellow lights flashing at the door behind you. 

“Not a prisoner, huh?” Clarke muttered as you both took off down the hall. 

You came to an intersection, looking to your left to see armed guards running towards you, and even more coming from your right. You kept running straight, zig zagging to throw off the guards, until you reached a rusty door. Clarke swiped Maya’s card on the keypad and you helped her pull open the door, slipping inside and pulling it shut.

You looked around and were met with stairs going up and down, you starting to go up as Clarke disabled the keypads and followed after you. You stopped at the first level, opening the door and coming to a stop at the beginning of a hallway. There was a large, round door at the end of it, and you and Clarke ran to it.

She tried pulling the lever beside it, but to no avail. She smacked the concrete wall in front of her and you looked at the door, seeing a hatch on it. You both moved to it and began to turn it, hearing a loud clunk after a few turns. 

Clarke moved back to the lever and you put a hand on it as well. Just as you were about to pull it and open the door, Jasper and Maya stopped you.

“Clarke, no!” Jasper yelled. “If you pull that lever, these people will die. Even a little radiation could kill them.” 

“Don’t make me shoot you,” Maya said, shakily holding a gun up to the both of you. 

“Wait,” Jasper said, standing in front of Maya with his hands out, walking up to you and Clarke. “Don’t do this.”

“I don’t believe them,” Clarke shook her head.

“Why would they lie?” Jasper asked. “Listen to me. We are safe here. Because of you guys, we’re safe.”

“Not all of us,” You said. 

“I’m the one that fired the rockets, should I not have done that?” Jasper asked. “Clarke, when you pulled that lever, you saved lives. Don’t throw that away by pulling this one.”

You and Clarke let go of the lever, sniffling and trying to prevent the tears from escaping your eyes. Bellamy was out there, he was out there with Finn, and you couldn’t get to him. The guards came barrelling in, Jasper raising his hands and moved to the side to let the guards through.

You put up no fight as they shoved you to the ground along with Clarke to handcuff you. Two guards guided Clarke down the halls, while another two guided you, a hand on each elbow as they brought you into Dante’s office. 

“Lose the handcuffs,” He instructed the guards as he painted. “There’s a blank canvas if you’d like,” He offered to Clarke, who shook her head. 

“I used to paint the ground, too.” Clarke told Dante.

“It’s not just the ground,” He said. “It’s a memory.”

“You’ve been outside?” You asked curiously.

“Yes. 56 years ago, for 5 minutes.” He said. “I was 7 when the first of what we call the outsiders appeared. Before that, we thought we were all there was. Imagine our surprise.” 

“We don’t have to imagine,” Clarke replied. 

“My father- this was his office at the time- believed it meant that the earth was survivable again, and so he opened the doors.” He recalled. “Within a week, 54 people were dead from the exposure. My mother and sister among them.”

He turned to put his paint brushes and pallet away, facing the both of you. “Loss… pain, regret. Time eases these things, girls, but the only time it’s ever truly gone is when I’m painting.”

He took off his jacket and placed it on the chair as Clarke looked around. “You didn’t bring us here to talk about painting, did you?”

“I’m afraid I have bad news.” He stopped on the other side of his paint cart. “Our patrols have swept the area and found no evidence of survivors, either at the camp or from the Ark.”

“How can they be sure?” You asked, shaking your head.

“They can’t,” Dante replied. “I’ve ordered them to keep searching.”

“We need to see for ourselves.” Clarke demanded.

“I’m sorry, I can’t allow that.” Dante denied. “I’m doing this for your own good, girls. It’s not safe out there.”

“Radiation has no effect on us. “ Clarke rebutted.

“It’s not the radiation I’m concerned about,” Dante motioned for the guards to come back in. “You need time to grieve. These men will show you to your room.”

“And if we try to leave?” You asked.

“Please don’t test me, girls.” Dante said.

Sighing, you turned and followed after Clarke, who left the room just before you. You tried not to think about the patrols not finding any survivors, but there was nothing you could do but that. The silent walk to the bedroom tore you apart on the inside as your thoughts collected and got worse and worse by the minute.

Soon after you were brought back to the room where the rest of the 48 were sleeping, you were brought back to the dining hall for dinner. Everyone stood at the table and joined hands, you between Clarke and Jasper as everyone said a prayer.

“For the past and the future we serve,” Dante said.

“We give thanks.” The room replied.

“Good health, good food, and good company. And the blessing of new friends.”

“We give thanks.” Everyone sat down to eat, digging into a wonderful beef stew. The thoughts of Bellamy and Finn loomed in the back of your mind, but you pushed it away and focused on talking with Jasper and eating. 

Afterwards, back in the shared room, you sat on a bunk with Harper, who talked about how amazing everything was in here. “They have actually tasteful food, here, Y/n! I mean, the clothes could be a little nicer but I’m not complaining.”

You nodded absentmindedly, and Harper caught on. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I am, it’s just…” You trailed off.

“Bellamy?” 

“Yeah. It’s worrying me that I don’t know where he is, or if he’s even alive, I just-- I need to know if he’s okay.” You ranted. “And these people haven’t found anything yet but I need to go look for myself but they won’t let me.” 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Harper put a hand on your arm. “He’s Bellamy, the guy can survive anything. You will see him again, Y/n. But for now, we need to get some sleep.”

You smiled at Harper and gave her a hug. “Thanks for that, Harper. I needed it.” 

You got up from her bottom bunk and climbed the ladder to the top one, slipping under the blanket as Harper did. Your hair splayed across the pillow and you tossed and turned, trying to get to sleep. 

“May we meet again,” You whispered into the air, tucking your hand under your cheek and closing your eyes, hoping for the day you reunite with Bellamy to come soon. 

Taglist:  @soullessbabee​ | @hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis​ | @dummythiccwitch​ | @sireddobrev​ | @gxvrielle​ | @hurricane-abigail | @holyhumorliteraturelight

[robmanion]

all the things that could’ve been

For context, there’s a theory roaming around that the hivemind could travel through time and change events before they happened. here’s my idea of how that could have went. Mentions of kissing, so if you aren’t comfortable with that, don’t read or skip that part. Also mention of a panic attack. That’s the most graphic it’ll get. 

I recommend listing to “if i’m being honest” by dodie for the first half of the story and “shrike” by hozier for the second half of this for the full experience. 

                                                     ______

      It had been about four years or so since Paul had taken that new job Mr. Davidson had offered. Well, it would have been four years. But Paul remembers those years so vividly, it came as a surprise when he woke up one morning and everything was different. 

      The year prior had been the worse one he had ever experienced. One mental breakdown over job layoffs, a car crash, and his mother’s funeral led to a mental hospital and caffeine addiction. He didn’t want to sleep (the nightmares were to real), so he drank to stay awake. He’d stay awake, and he’d feel more worn out, so he’d drink more to stay up. The caffeine crash happened, and he needed more to stay away from dreams- the cycle kept going until he collapsed on the subway. Next thing he knew, he had an IV in his arm recovering from extreme sleep deprivation. Of course, once he was out of the ER, his father drove him to the mental unit. He didn’t want to go, but Paul understood why- he needed help. Badly. So, if the next two months had to be spent in a bland white-walled prison, so be it. It wasn’t as bad as he’d thought, most of the people he met were so sweet and gentle. The only thing that really scared him was the amount of minors in the ward. Those poor children. 

      Once he’d been released, he started to take better care of himself. Got a therapist, moved to a different part of Hatchetfeild, looked for a new job. His old math tutor, Mr. Davidson, offered him a job to help Paul get back on his feet. All he asked for in return was a monthly meeting to check up on his mental health. Seemingly fair enough, so Paul accepted. 

      Paul tried his best to deal with other parts of his life. He’d even tried dating again- something he hadn’t done since high school prom. He’d always felt horrible about himself, about his face, his hair, his body, just a whole mess really. But he needed to get out there sooner or later, right? He started with a girl named Mary (sweet lady, just a bit too narcissistic), but by the god-knows-what-number date, he’d just given up altogether. He liked most of the women, he even flirted with some! But he just couldn’t get over the fact that a month ago he was in a mental hospital. It shouldn’t define him, but it just seemed to loom over everything he did. The only good thing about that place besides the kids were the routines. So, he spoke to his therapist about it, and she said that having a constant thing in life would be extremely helpful. While he was still addicted to caffeine, he felt that he could try and ease his way off it. So, coffee shop it was. 

      He had started off with Starbucks.First, it was an espresso. Next, a simple iced coffee. Then he moved to Iced coffee with creamer. Than to hot coffee.  Than a simple black coffee. Soon, he would be off coffee and down to the weird cappuccino things. 

      He was driving to Starbucks to get his morning coffee when he noticed a sign. Beanie’s. Huh, He’d never heard or seen the place before- must’ve been new. He pulled into their lot, parked, and walked in. He was hit with the smell of muffins and coffee beans. Only, it smelled slightly worse than Starbucks. But honestly, who was he to judge? He walked up to the counter, ready to order. A woman peered from outside a room, and yelled. 

      “EMMA! Costumer!” 

      Paul felt bad. God, if this ‘Emma’ girl was going to get yelled at, maybe he’d go back to Starbucks. Of course, that idea was thrown out the window when he saw her. 

      Paul wasn’t big on beauty. He could appreciate someone’s attractiveness, but he never really seemed to fall for anyone based on that. He had to know them, you know? But when Emma walked out, god he felt his cheeks heat up. She wasn’t supermodel pretty, but she was still breath-taking nonetheless. Sure, her hair was in a messy bun (that wasn’t done to be stylish, if he may have added), bags under her eyes, and looking like she wanted to punch a guy, but she was beautiful. 

      “Welcome to Beanie’s, what can I get you?” Emma asked. Gosh, her voice. Like velvet. Sad, tired velvet, but velvet. 

      “Uh, one black coffee, please,”

                                                ____________

      Paul would be lying if he said that he put up with Beanie’s mediocre coffee for Emma. But what can he say? She was one of the first purely good things to happen to him in a while. Sure, she never recognized him and he always talked super quietly and watched from afar, but it was enough for him. He told his therapist about her, and she said to just ask if she wanted to maybe hang out sometime. Of course, that was insane. He’d have to talk to her about things other than his coffee, and he just wasn’t ready for that. But it had been almost two months, and if Paul didn’t do something now, when would he? 

      So, that faithful day came. He walked into Beanie’s on morning, and paced to the counter. Look normal, Paul. This doesn’t have to be weird. 

      “Welcome to Beanie’s, can I help you?”

       “One black coffee,” He smiled. God he hoped he didn’t look as awkward as he felt. While she made the coffee, he noticed a small tip jar in the corner. He placed a $5 into it; Emma must’ve had superhuman hearing, because she groaned. 

      “Okay, okay! I’ve been brewing up your coffee-” 

      Paul stopped her from singing as soon as the first note hit. She may be attractive, but her singing voice was far from it. “No, no, it’s okay,”

      “Oh, thank you! You know, Nora came back from Coldstone Creamery last weekend and took up the whole singing thing. It’s annoying as hell,” 

      “Sounds like it,” Paul gave a breathy laugh. 

      “I’ve seen you around before, what’s your name?” 

      “Paul,” He extended his hand for a shake. 

      “I’m Emma-” she finishes her sentence while handing Paul his coffee. “-but I’m sure you know that by Nora’s yelling,” 

      At this point, Paul was 100% positive he had a crush on Emma. Okay, crush sounded childish. He had a thing...a fascination...no, no, it was a crush. And god damn it felt nice. To have something positive in his life after so long. 

      “Would you want to get lunch with me sometime?” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could think. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. But to his luck, Emma smiled. 

      “Yeah, actually, but it has to be dinner- my lunch break is only 30 minutes. What about next Friday, 7?” 

      A costumer behind Paul started to curse him out- Paul had forgotten other people existed. Oops. “Yeah, that works. See you then,” 

      “See you then,” 

      When Paul got home that evening, he was ecstatic. He had a date! Maybe it would even be a good one! But he didn’t want to get his hopes up- she looked excited when he asked, but she could be doing it out of pity. After all, he did stare helplessly at her. And if she knew he was there a lot, than maybe she hoped going out with him would just get rid of him. No, stop it, he told himself. If she didn’t want to go out with him, she would’ve said no. He’d just go on the date and see what happens.

     The next morning as he drove to Beanie’s, it occurred to him that he didn’t know where to pick her up. Or how. God, he was stupid. She was probably already on shift, so he decided on asking the moment he got into the shop.

      Of course, this had to be the day Emma was off shift. It was Wednesday, so she was off until 2pm. Of course. Paul sighed as he walked into the coffee shop. The last thing he expected was to bump into the one and only while she walked out.

      “Sorry, I- oh hey! You’re Paul, right?”

      It took a second for Paul to get his footing and voice back, but he smiled awkwardly. “Hey, Emma. Yeah it’s me. I’m actually really glad I ran into you, I have a question,” He and Emma walked over to the ordering counter.

      Finger guns. “Knock yourself out,”

      Paul chuckled before replying. “Can I get your number? I just want to know where to pick you up Friday,” a barista coughed, and he looked over. “One black coffee,”

“Yeah, of course! Here, lemme just-“ she snatched Paul’s phone right out of his hands, and put in her number. “There you go! I’ll send you a photo you can use for my picture so you know it’s me,”

      “Okay. Okay, uh, cool,” He smiled. The barista handed him his coffee, and he put a 10 on the table. “Keep the change,” he looked back at Emma. “Now, I’m going to go to my job,”

      “Why don’t you go over to Starbucks, huh? Coffee here’s shit,”

      Paul looked around the shop, and smiled. It just reminded him of her. “Because, some things are worth it. Like-“ he took a sip of the cup.”-Damn good coffee. And you,”

      She blushed. She fucking blushed. God she was adorable. “Well, thank you,”

                                              _____________

      So came Friday night, and Paul was getting anxious. Emma had said to meet him outside of Beanie’s (’I’m working until 5 Friday’, she said), but it had been then thirty minutes and there was no sign of her. It’s not like he was hiding or anything- he was sitting in his car, smack in front of Beanie’s doors, clear as day. Maybe she forgot. Maybe she blew him off. No, Emma was a nice person, she wouldn’t do that. Would she? But, just as Paul was starting to have a freak out, Emma pushed open the front doors and looked around. Thank god. She saw Paul and waved, walking to his car; he rolled down a window. 

      “I was starting to think you’d ditched me,” He laughed. 

      “Me, leaving you? Never,” She laughed back and got into the passenger seat. “So, where to, posh boy?” 

      “Posh boy?”

      “I dunno, you just look posh,” 

      Paul looked at himself; he was just wearing a nice polo and jeans. It’s not like he was wearing a suit or anything. “Oh, well thank you. You’re looking nice yourself,” That was true- she was wearing a nice pair of jeans with a blouse. 

      “Why thank you,” She imitated a British accent and failed horribly. 

      “You’re welcome, m’dam,” Paul replied with an equally bad accent. She giggled. “We’re just heading to a Mexican place. You like Mexican, right?” He returned to his normal voice. 

      “Of course! Who doesn’t?”

      “Alright, let’s go then!” 

      The ride to the restaurant was much more scenic than Paul expected. The highway was way to backed up to even move, so Emma suggested they take a back route. Paul didn’t know the way, so they ended up switching spots. Emma typed in the restaurant's name into the GPS, and off they went. Paul looked out the passenger window to find they were driving next to an apple orchard- god was it pretty. The budding flowers and ripe looking apples that hung from the trees made Paul practically taste the apples in his mouth, The smell of apple cider in the distance made him swoon. If there was one thing that could always remind him of childhood, it was the smell of apple cider- how his grandmother used to pick him up from school in the fall and make him apple pie and apple cider, and feed it to hi until he was stuffed. Those were the days. 

      “What are you smilin’ so hard about?” Emma asked. 

      “Nothing really, just it smells amazing,”

      “Alright,” He could feel her gaze on his face every now and again for the rest of the ride.

       Once they arrived back at the restaurant, Emma pulled into the parking lot, and jumped out of the car. Paul soon followed, and when they both got the doors of the restaurant, Emma smirked and opened the door for Paul. “Ladies first,” 

      “Very funny,” Paul said sarcastically, but smiled. 

      The restaurant wasn’t fancy, but it was on of those places that you probably shouldn’t wear a t-shirt to. The lighting was dim enough to eat in but still feel like you were eating at some five-star place. The food smelled amazing as they both walked past the kitchen, following the host to their table. They sat down, and took a good look at their menus before Emma cleared her throat to speak up. “You know, I saw you staring at me the past two months,” 

      Paul was taken aback. Shit. “What?” 

      “Yeah, you kept staring at me. You’d stay in Beanie’s and drink your coffee. It’s not hard to tell when someone's eyeballing you, just so you know.” She saw Paul’s face, and laughed. He must’ve looked stupid. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. I mean, I found it creepy at first, but you were always so flustered when you ordered, so I knew it wasn’t like you were stalking me,” 

      Paul rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t think you’d even notice me,” 

      “With a face like yours? It’s hard not to!” She gave a breathy laugh before continuing. “But then you asked me out and honestly, I was super exited. You seemed...sweet.” 

      “Well? Am I what you expected?” 

      “No,” Paul was about to frown, but then he smiled. “You’re so much more,” 

      The food was fantastic. Emma had gotten the chicken taquitos, and Paul ordered the beef tacos. Safe to say, it took a while to make, but they passed the time by staking the salt and pepper shakers from the tables around them (Paul noted later that taking them while people were eating wasn’t the best idea, but honestly it was so much fun that he didn’t care). Then their food came, and they laughed because they had so many shakers. Eventually they put them back. While they ate, they talked about family, their jobs, and then their pasts eventually came into the discussion.

      “So, what’s your trauma?” Emma asked after a mouthful of taquito. 

      “Hm?” 

      “Come on, we’ve all got something. Spill,” 

      God, was she ready for that so quickly? Was he even ready for that? He’d never told anyone at the office (minus Bill, but Bill was his best friend) about his past, so how was he to tell a woman he doesn’t even know? “Uh, I just went through a rough patch,” 

      Emma seemed to catch on that he didn’t want to talk about, and didn’t push. “Ah- I get that.” It sounded like she wanted to say something, but she stopped herself. She probably realized it was a bit early for trauma talk. Thank god. 

      By the time they’d finished eating, the sun was just about done setting. Paul drove her home this time, and the winding back roads and stoplight gave him time to think. He was starting to fall for Emma. He knew his heart was moving too fast, that it was all too much, but he didn’t care. She was everything he’d ever wanted and more. He couldn’t risk loosing her. Paul looked over at her- her head leaning against the glass, eyes closed, but he knew she wasn’t asleep. She really looked like an angel. Paul didn’t believe in God all that much- he’d grown up in church, but he never believed God made time for everyone. Now, he was starting to believe it. 

      When the GPS told him he’d arrived at Emma’s place, he parked and shook her gently. “Emma, we’re here,” 

      She groaned. “Okay, okay,” She opened her eyes. “I wasn’t sleeping, but god I wish I was,”

      Paul pretended to be offended. “ Am I that boring?” 

      She gave a small laugh. Paul got out of the car, and opened her door for her. She gave a thank you. “You can come up with me for a bit, if you want.” Was Paul going to say no? Of course not. He followed her up the complex until they reached her floor. She dug the front door’s key from her pocket, and unlocked it. The place was nice for an apartment. A small couch, with a tall lamp in the corner. The kitchen was decent enough, and it looked like it had been recently cleaned. The smell of lavender took over his senses, and he exhaled sharply. “Come ‘ere,” Emma motioned with her hand, to which Paul followed- he hadn’t realized she’d starting walking ahead of him. He followed her into her bedroom. It was a nice light shade of gray with a purple accent wall. Quilts everywhere, her bed looked more like a giant pillow than a mattress with a headboard. A small table that acted as a dresser sat in the corner, along with a small bookshelf. While he was looking around the room, Emma had put on a record because of course she had a record player on her nightstand. He recognized the artist- Hozier. His voice acted as an anchor to the real world when Emma walked up to Paul and kissed him. 

      The kiss was soft- not to hard, more like she was testing the waters. Her lips tasted like coconut. Must’ve been chap-stick; or who knows, maybe she really just tasted that sweet. He’d been so lost in her, he didn’t notice he was kissing back. He didn’t notice his arms wrapping around her waist, her hands in his short hair. He didn’t notice that she turned them around, and that they were moving backward. It wasn’t until his back hit her bed, with her kissing him more deeply on top of him did he snap out of his trance. He didn’t want this. Well, he did, but not this quick. Not on the first date. He felt like.. he didn’t know why, but it just didn’t feel right. 

      “Emma?” He whispered, doing his best to pull away from the kiss. 

      “Yeah?” She asked, her voice breathy. Paul looked away; he felt so fucking stupid. He’s a guy- he’s supposed to want to fuck her on the first date. But he didn’t want to fuck her- not yet. And that seemed like such a degrading term- fucking someone. He wanted to love her, make her feel like she was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. But not yet. Not this early. His thoughts must’ve been planting themselves on his face, because she pulled back. “Paul, what’s wrong?” Her voice sounded like honey, and Paul hated to do this to her. 

      “I’m...I’m not ready. I do want to, you know..just, not now,” He did his best to explain. She nodded. 

      “Of course. i don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to. Do you just want to lay here? We can keep going without the sex, if that’s what you want,” 

      Paul wondered how he managed to find a woman like Emma. “Yeah, that’s fine,” 

      They curled up together on Emma’s bed, sharing a couple of kisses her and there until they both fell asleep to the distant sounds of traffic and Hozier. 

      The next morning, Paul woke up to the sunlight hitting his face. He didn’t even want to open his eyes at first- the sun and the warmth wrapped around him made him feel like a cat. A lazy cat that didn’t want to move, even though the day had started long beforehand; even though the cat knew it needed to eat, that it needed to get some fresh air, it wouldn’t move for the world, as it was right where it needed to be- Paul was just like that cat. But, he couldn’t get his way, could he? He opened his eyes, and smiled. He was in Emma’s room. She was tangled up with him; their legs intertwined, her head leaning on his chest, his head leaning on top of hers. She looked at peace. 

      Paul’s back pocket started to buzz, and Paul gave a quiet groan. God, he couldn’t get one morning of silence, could he? He gently moved one of his hands off of Emma’s back. and slowly reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone. Mr. Davidson, it read. He picked up. 

      “Hello?” He whispered. 

      There was chatter behind Mr. Davidson’s voice. Was he at the office? No, it was Saturday- he was probably at Starbucks or something. “Paul, where are you? You missed our monthly meeting,” 

      Fuck. “What time is it?” 

      “About 11,” 

      “I’m so sorry, sir. I, um..I had a date, and-”

      Paul could practically see the smile on Mr. Davidson’s face. “No worries, Paul. And you don’t need to call me sir, remember? You know me. I’ll move the meeting until Monday,” 

      “Than you, Nathan,” 

      “Paul, I’m glad you’re back on your feet. You deserve it after the year you’ve had,” 

      “Thanks,” Paul bid a quick goodbye, and ended the call. By the time he’d turned his phone off, Emma was starting to stir. 

      “Morning,” She muttered. Her hair was a mess, and it was so adorable. 

      “Good morning,” 

      This is perfect, she’s perfect, Paul thought. I’m going to marry her. 

                                            _______________

      It had been three and a half years, and Paul had never been more happy. He and Emma had been in a relationship since the first date. Emma had moved into Paul’s larger apartment. They got a cat together, and then things settled down. Paul had gotten to know everyone at the office to be one first name basis with everyone. He, Ted, and Bill went out of guys night every month. Emma kept up her job at Beanie’s while she got through community college. She given Paul her pot farm proposal, and Paul laughed. When he found out she wasn’t kidding, he helped her get a medical marijuana selling license. They worked on logos together, and honestly Paul did his best to support Emma no matter what. 

      Not that their relationship was perfect. When Paul’s department faced possible layoffs, it sent him into a frenzy. He couldn’t be unemployed again, living like that was hell. When Mr. Davidson called Paul into his office, Paul snapped. He started having a horrible panic attack, and the office ended up calling for an ambulance in fear of his safety. Emma, of course, was Paul’s emergency contact (along with his father), and they both ended up at the office in under a half an hour. They both talked while the first respondents calmed Paul down- Emma and his father weren’t allowed near him while he was still on edge. To this day, Paul regrets that was the way Emma met his dad. After that whole ordeal, Emma made him talk about his past. She said she needed to know, because if she needed to help on moments notice, it was important to know those things. So, Paul told her about how when they’d gone on their first date, he’d been out of a mental hospital for two months. How he’d had a mental breakdown when he lost his first job, and even thought about suicide at one point. He explained that’s why he freaked out when Mr. Davidson called him into his office. Emma understood completely- she told him about her sister’s death, and how her parents never really talked to her that much after the death, because in their grief-stricken state, they blamed her for her sister’s death. That night, both of them cried, holding one another until they wore themselves out to sleep. 

      But through all their ups and downs, they never lost sight of what they loved about each other. And now that three and a half years had past, Paul knew. He wanted to marry Emma Perkins. He wanted to share her last name, or for her to have his. He wanted to be with her until he died. They both already wanted this- marriage would just make it official to everyone else. 

      “I’m going to propose to Emma,” Paul blurted at Guy’s Night. 

      “What?” Bill asked. 

      “About time,” Ted scoffed. 

      “I have a ring picked out and everything. i just don’t know when,” 

      “You know, I proposed to Vanessa when we were having sex,” Bill commented awkwardly. “But she said yes,”

      “Look where that got you,” Ted pointed out. 

      “Not what I meant, Ted,” Bill shot back. “Look, Paul, all I’m saying is whenever feels like the best time, even if it’s weird, go for it,” 

      “Just not during sex, that’s just stupid,” Ted laughed. Bill glared at him, and Ted nudged him. “All in good tidings, Bill,” 

      “Thanks guys,” Paul smiled.

      Turns out, the right time was on a Saturday night, while they watched Dateline on their couch. She was wearing his sweater, and the cat was on her lap, and she was so perfect. Paul couldn’t think of a better time to ask the woman he loved to marry him. 

      “Emma?” 

      “Yeah, Paul?”

      Here goes nothing, he thought. “Em, I love you. And honestly, you supported me at my best, and helped me up through my worst; and I like to think I’ve done the same for you. You helped me become the man I am today, and..and everything you do reminds me every day why I’m so thankful God led me to you,” 

      “Paul, what are you doing?” Emma asked. She gasped when he got up from the couch and onto once knee. 

      “This is a little bit awkward because I don’t have the ring with me,” Paul laughed, “But Emma Lauren Perkins, would you marry me?” 

      Emma put her hands over her mouth, and started to laugh. She let go, and she was smiling so wide. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes!” She jumped of the couch (the cat hissing and running away) and into Paul’s arms. “Of course!” 

      Paul kissed her, and she kissed back. They were getting married. 

                                           _______________

      Paul’s been waiting for three and a half years for this day, but even in his dreams did he picture hoe beautiful Emma would be walking down the aisle. 

      They couldn’t afford much- they worked minimal wage jobs, and even with help from Paul’s father, they couldn’t afford a big venue. So, they decided on a small reception on the beach in Rhode Island. The boat ride and drive from Hatchetfeild to the beach was about 2 hours. Once they got there, they unpacked their stuff at the hotel room. They didn’t plan on having much of a honeymoon, just at the same beach they were to marry in for a week or so. But that was enough for them. 

      When the day finally came, Paul was a bubble of nerves. The wedding would take place in a small park, with the first dance and after party actually being on the beach (no one wanted to see Emma trip on her face because of sand on their wedding day (as funny has Paul and Emma seemed to think it would be, they decided against it). 

      So, there stood Paul, waiting at the end of the aisle. Emma’s friends and relatives on one side, Paul’s father and coworkers on the other. Bill offered to marry them, since Emma was atheist and priests were fucking expensive. The bridesmaids and Paul’s mates walked hand in hand down the aisle. Mr. Davidson and his wife walked down next, and Nathan winked at Paul as he passed. Finally, Paul saw Emma walk down the aisle with his father, and he lost his breath. The white dress complimented the rose flower crown that she and him were proud to say she made herself, and with her hair in a loose bun, she looked more like an angel than he’d ever seen her. When she got to the from of the alter, Paul nearly broke tradition and kissed her right then and there- but he had to hold back. The both smiled at each other while Bill went through the motions. 

      “Paul Matthews, you may now recite your vows,” Bill said. 

      Paul took a deep breath. “Can I just say how nervous I am?” The crowd laughed. “No, really!” He looked over at her. “Emma, when i met you, i was a mess. I didn’t think I was going to get better, that nothing in life mattered You came to me at the hardest point in my life, and you embraced it. You were always so gentle and patient with me, and that really meant the world to me. When I met you, the world just got so much brighter. The smells, the brightness, the colors, everything just just better. And times got hard for us, but I’m so thankful that you stuck through it all. You mean the world to me. I love you so much,” 

      Emma laughed an wiped away a couple of tears as Bill spoke up again. “Emma Perkins, you may recite you vows,” 

      “God damn, Paul, you’re a sap,” She muttered, laughing again. “Paul, I didn’t think I was worthy of love before I met you. I used to think that I’d always have to change myself for love, because that’s all I grew up knowing what love was. And frankly, I didn’t want that. The you stumbled into my life, and I realized I didn’t have to change a thing to love someone wholeheartedly. You taught me to love myself, and I hope I’ve done the same for you. Paul, I love you more than words can describe, and I hope you’ll be right there next to me for whatever the hell life wants to throw at us,” 

      “Paul and Emma Matthews, by the power rested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” 

      Emma beat Paul do it, dipping him and kissing like there was no tomorrow. 

      The rest of the reception was on the beach, and everyone had a wonderful time. Emma and Paul’s first dance was to Hozier’s Shrike, in honor of their first date. After that, a playlist of random 80s music and rave music blasted from the speakers, and everyone jumped and danced like there was no tomorrow. Even Emma’s biology teacher, Dr. Hidgens, was dancing. It went on for another three hours of so, until midnight hit, and everyone bid goodbye to the wedding. Now, all that was left was leftover cake, Emma and Paul, and the crashing waves. 

      “Emma Mathews?” Paul asked as he sat next to her. 

      “Yes, Paul Matthews?” 

      “Can we just fall asleep here? I want to remember this moment,” 

      “Of course,” Emma smiled, and they both laid down. Emma head on Paul chest, Paul holding Emma’s hand. “I love you, Em,” 

      “I love you too,” 

      They both drifted off to the sound of the waves and seagull cries. 

                                               ____________ 

      Beep, beep, beep. 

      The alarm clock woke Paul up. Which was strange, because unless he suddenly remembered to set an alarm, his alarm clock shouldn’t be ringing. He rolled himself out of bed, looking out the window. That was a hell of a storm last night- the power transformer almost blew out. Thank god he still had running water, because he hadn’t showered all weekend (not getting out of bed does that to a person). He walked over to the bathroom, and doused some water on his face. that’s when he noticed the ring. It was a wedding ring. The hell, Paul thought. He’d not married, he doesn’t even have a girlfriend. He took it off, and threw it into the trashcan. 

      He could hear his next door neighbor singing in the shower. He never sang. Odd. Who knows, maybe it was a good day for him- for what it was worth, Paul thought his voice was lovely. He turned on the radio to listen to while he made some toast. Today is March 24, 2018, Donna said. 

      Paul had a pang of deja vu. He felt like he was supposed to do something important today. He looked around his room, then shrugged. Everything seemed normal. Expect the wedding ring. After a moment of thought, he brushed the thought of. He was drunk last night, maybe he just got married it Bill by mistake.

Paul finished up his morning routine, and locked his apartment up. Maybe he’d stop but Beanie’s again- there was a cute barista there, and who knows, maybe he would ask her out.

[elisabettacormac]

Ian Rankin

No Sanity Clause

It was all Edgar Allan Poe’s fault. Either that or the Scottish Parliament. Joey Briggs was spending most of his days in the run-up to Christmas sheltering from Edinburgh’s biting December winds. He’d been walking up George IV Bridge one day and had watched a down-and-out slouching into the Central Library. Joey had hesitated. He wasn’t a down-and-out, not yet anyway. Maybe he would be soon, if Scully Aitchison MSP got his way, but for now Joey had a bedsit and a trickle of state cash. Thing was, nothing made you miss money more than Christmas. The shop windows displayed their magnetic pull. There were queues at the cash machines. Kids tugged on their parents’ sleeves, ready with something new to add to the present list. Boyfriends were out buying gold, while families piled the food trolley high.

And then there was Joey, nine weeks out of prison and nobody to call his friend. He knew there was nothing waiting for him back in his home town. His wife had taken the children and tiptoed out of his life. Joey’s sister had written to him in prison with the news. So, eleven months on, Joey had walked through the gates of Saughton Jail and taken the first bus into the city centre, purchased an evening paper and started the hunt for somewhere to live.

The bedsit was fine. It was one of four in a tenement basement just off South Clerk Street, sharing a kitchen and bathroom. The other men worked, didn’t say much. Joey’s room had a gas fire with a coin-meter beside it, too expensive to keep it going all day. He’d tried sitting in the kitchen with the stove lit, until the landlord had caught him. Then he’d tried steeping in the bath, topping up the hot. But the water always seemed to run cold after half a tub.

‘You could try getting a job,’ the landlord had said.

Not so easy with a prison record. Most of the jobs were for security and nightwatch. Joey didn’t think he’d get very far there.

Following the tramp into the library was one of his better ideas. The uniform behind the desk gave him a look, but didn’t say anything. Joey wandered the stacks, picked out a book and sat himself down. And that was that. He became a regular, the staff acknowledged him with a nod and sometimes even a smile. He kept himself presentable, didn’t fall asleep the way some of the old guys did. He read for much of the day, alternating between fiction, biographies and textbooks. He read up on local history, plumbing and Winston Churchill, Nigel Tranter’s novels and National Trust gardens. He knew the library would close over Christmas, didn’t know what he’d do without it. He never borrowed books, because he was afraid they’d have him on some blacklist: convicted housebreaker and petty thief, not to be trusted with loan material.

He dreamt of spending Christmas in one of the town’s posh hotels, looking out across Princes Street Gardens to the Castle. He’d order room service and watch TV. He’d take as many baths as he liked. They’d clean his clothes for him and return them to the room. He dreamt of the presents he’d buy himself: a big radio with a CD player, some new shirts and pairs of shoes; and books. Plenty of books.

The dream became almost real to him, so that he found himself nodding off in the library, coming to as his head hit the page he’d been reading. Then he’d have to concentrate, only to find himself drifting into a warm sleep again.

Until he met Edgar Allan Poe.

It was a book of poems and short stories, among them ‘The Purloined Letter’. Joey loved that, thought it was really clever the way you could hide something by putting it right in front of people. Something that didn’t look out of place, people would just ignore it. There’d been a guy in Saughton, doing time for fraud. He’d told Joey: ‘Three things: a suit, a haircut and an expensive watch. If you’ve got those, it’s amazing what you can get away with.’ He’d meant that clients had trusted him, because they’d seen something they were comfortable with, something they expected to see. What they hadn’t seen was what was right in front of their noses, to wit: a shark, someone who was going to take a big bite out of their savings.

As Joey’s eyes flitted back over Poe’s story, he started to get an idea. He started to get what he thought was a very good idea indeed. Problem was, he needed what the fraudster had called ‘the start-up’, meaning some cash. He happened to look across to where one of the old tramps was slumped on a chair, the newspaper in front of him unopened. Joey looked around: nobody was watching. The place was dead: who had time to go to the library when Christmas was around the corner? Joey walked over to the old guy, slipped a hand into his coat pocket. Felt coins and notes, bunched his fingers around them. He glanced down at the newspaper. There was a story about Scully Aitchison’s campaign. Aitchison was the MSP who wanted all offenders put on a central register, open to public inspection. He said law-abiding folk had the right to know if their neighbour was a thief or a murderer – as if stealing was the same as killing somebody! There was a small photo of Aitchison, too, beaming that self-satisfied smile, his glasses glinting. If Aitchison got his way, Joey would never get out of the rut.

Not unless his plan paid off.

*****

John Rebus saw his girlfriend kissing Santa Claus. There was a German Market in Princes Street Gardens. That was where Rebus was to meet Jean. He hadn’t expected to find her in a clinch with a man dressed in a red suit, black boots and snowy-white beard. Santa broke away and moved off, just as Rebus was approaching. German folk songs were blaring out. There was a startled look on Jean’s face.

‘What was that all about?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know.’ She was watching the retreating figure. ‘I think maybe he’s just had too much festive spirit. He came up and grabbed me.’ Rebus made to follow, but Jean stopped him. ‘Come on, John. Season of goodwill and all that.’

‘It’s assault, Jean.’

She laughed, regaining her composure. ‘You’re going to take St Nicholas down the station and put him in the cells?’ She rubbed his arm. ‘Let’s forget it, eh? The fun starts in ten minutes.’

Rebus wasn’t too sure that the evening was going to be ‘fun’. He spent every day bogged down in crimes and tragedies. He wasn’t sure that a ‘mystery dinner’ was going to offer much relief. It had been Jean’s idea. There was a hotel just across the road. You all went in for dinner, were handed envelopes telling you which character you’d be playing. A body was discovered, and then you all turned detective.

‘It’ll be fun,’ Jean insisted, leading him out of the gardens. She had three shopping bags with her. He wondered if any of them were for him. She’d asked for a list of his Christmas wants, but so far all he’d come up with were a couple of CDs by String Driven Thing.

As they entered the hotel, they saw that the mystery evening was being held on the mezzanine floor. Most of the guests had already gathered and were enjoying glasses of cava. Rebus asked in vain for a beer.

‘Cava’s included in the price,’ the waitress told him. A man dressed in Victorian costume was checking names and handing out carrier bags.

‘Inside,’ he told Jean and Rebus, ‘you’ll find instructions, a secret clue that only you know, your name, and an item of clothing.’

‘Oh,’ Jean said, ‘I’m Little Nell.’ She fixed a bonnet to her head. ‘Who are you, John?’

‘Mr Bumble.’ Rebus produced his name-tag and a yellow woollen scarf, which Jean insisted on tying around his neck.

‘It’s a Dickensian theme, specially for Christmas,’ the host revealed, before moving off to confront his other victims. Everyone looked a bit embarrassed, but most were trying for enthusiasm. Rebus didn’t doubt that a couple of glasses of wine over dinner would loosen a few Edinburgh stays. There were a couple of faces he recognised. One was a journalist, her arm around her boyfriend’s waist. The other was a man who appeared to be with his wife. He had one of those looks to him, the kind that says you should know him. She was blonde and petite and about a decade younger than her husband.

‘Isn’t that an MSP?’ Jean whispered.

‘His name’s Scully Aitchison,’ Rebus told her.

Jean was reading her information sheet. ‘The victim tonight is a certain Ebenezer Scrooge,’ she said.

‘And did you kill him?’

She thumped his arm. Rebus smiled, but his eyes were on the MSP. Aitchison’s face was bright red. Rebus guessed he’d been drinking since lunchtime. His voice boomed across the floor, broadcasting the news that he and Catriona had booked a room for the night, so they wouldn’t have to drive back to the constituency.

They were all mingling on the mezzanine landing. The room where they’d dine was just off to the right, its doors still closed. Guests were starting to ask each other which characters they were playing. As one elderly lady – Miss Havisham on her name-tag – came over to ask Jean about Little Nell, Rebus saw a red-suited man appear at the top of the stairs. Santa carried what looked like a half-empty sack. He started making his way across the floor, but was stopped by Aitchison.

‘J’accuse!’ the MSP bawled. ‘You killed Scrooge because of his inhumanity to his fellow man!’ Aitchison’s wife came to the rescue, dragging her husband away, but Santa’s eyes seemed to follow them. As he made to pass Rebus, Rebus fixed him with a stare.

‘Jean,’ he asked, ‘is he the same one …?’

She only caught the back of Santa’s head. ‘They all look alike to me,’ she said.

Santa was on his way to the next flight of stairs. Rebus watched him leave, then turned back to the other guests, all of them now tricked out in odd items of clothing. No wonder Santa had looked like he’d stumbled into an asylum. Rebus was reminded of a Marx Brothers line, Groucho trying to get Chico’s name on a contract, telling him to sign the sanity clause.

But, as Chico said, everyone knew there was no such thing as Sanity Clause.

*****

Joey jimmied open his third room of the night. The Santa suit worked a treat. Okay, so it was hot and uncomfortable, and the beard was itching his neck, but it worked! He’d breezed through reception and up the stairs. So far, as he’d worked the corridors all he’d had were a few jokey comments. No one from security asking him who he was. No guests becoming suspicious. He fitted right in, and he was right under their noses.

God bless Edgar Allan Poe.

The woman in the fancy dress shop had even thrown in a sack, saying he’d be wanting to fill it. How true: in the first bedroom, he’d dumped out the crumpled sheets of old newspaper and started filling the sack – clothes, jewellery, the contents of the mini-bar. Same with the second room: a tap on the door to make sure no one was home, then the chisel into the lock and hey presto. Thing was, there wasn’t much in the rooms. A notice in the wardrobe told clients to lock all valuables in the hotel safe at reception. Still, he had a few nice things: camera, credit cards, bracelet and necklace. Sweat was running into his eyes, but he couldn’t afford to shed his disguise. He was starting to have crazy thoughts: take a good long soak; ring down for room service; find a room that hadn’t been taken and settle in for the duration. In the third room, he sat on the bed, feeling dizzy. There was a briefcase open beside him, just lots of paperwork. His stomach growled, and he remembered that his last meal had been a Mars Bar supper the previous day. He broke open a jar of salted peanuts, switched the TV on while he ate. As he put the empty jar down, he happened to glance at the contents of the briefcase. ‘Parliamentary briefing… Law and Justice Sub-Committee…’ He saw a list of names on the top sheet. One of them was coloured with a yellow marker.

Scully Aitchison.

The drunk man downstairs… That was where Joey knew him from! He leapt to his feet, trying to think. He could stay here and give the MSP a good hiding. He could… He picked up the room-service menu, called down and ordered smoked salmon, a steak, a bottle each of best red wine and malt whisky. Then heard himself saying those sweetest words: ‘Put it on my room, will you?’

Then he settled back to wait. Flipped through the paperwork again. An envelope slipped out. Card inside, and a letter inside the card.

Dear Scully, it began. I hope it isn’t all my fault, this idea of yours for a register of offenders …

*****

‘I haven’t a clue,’ said Rebus.

Nor did he. Dinner was over, the actor playing Scrooge was flat out on the mezzanine floor, and Rebus was as far away from solving the crime as ever. Thankfully, a bar had been opened up, and he spent most of his time perched on a high stool, pretending to read the background notes while taking sips of beer. Jean had hooked up with Miss Havisham, while Aitchison’s wife was slumped in one of the armchairs, drawing on a cigarette. The MSP himself was playing ringmaster, and had twice confronted Rebus, calling for him to reveal himself as the villain.

‘Innocent, m’lud,’ was all Rebus had said.

‘We think it’s Magwitch,’ Jean said, suddenly breathless by Rebus’s side, her bonnet at a jaunty angle. ‘He and Scrooge knew one another in prison.’

‘I didn’t know Scrooge served time,’ Rebus said.

‘That’s because you’re not asking questions.’

‘I don’t need to; I’ve got you to tell me. That’s what makes a good detective.’

He watched her march away. Four of the diners had encircled the poor man playing Magwitch. Rebus had harboured suspicions, too… but now he was thinking of jail time, and how it affected those serving it. It gave them a certain look, a look they brought back into the world on their release. The same look he’d seen in Santa’s eyes.

And here was Santa now, coming back down the stairs, his sack slung over one shoulder. Crossing the mezzanine floor as if seeking someone out. Then finding them: Scully Aitchison. Rebus rose from his stool and wandered over.

‘Have you been good this year?’ Santa was asking Aitchison.

‘No worse than anyone else,’ the MSP smirked.

‘Sure about that?’ Santa’s eyes narrowed.

‘I wouldn’t lie to Father Christmas.’

‘What about this plan of yours, the offender register?’

Aitchison blinked a couple of times.

‘What about it?’ Santa held a piece of paper aloft, his voice rising. ‘Your own nephew’s serving time for fraud. Managed to keep that quiet, haven’t you?’

Aitchison stared at the letter. ‘Where in hell…? How…?’

The journalist stepped forward. ‘Mind if I take a look?’

Santa handed over the letter, then pulled off his hat and beard. Started heading for the stairs down. Rebus blocked his way.

‘Time to hand out the presents,’ he said quietly. Joey looked at him and understood immediately, slid the sack from his shoulder. Rebus took it. ‘Now on you go.’

‘You’re not arresting me?’

‘Who’d feed Dancer and Prancer?’ Rebus asked.

His stomach full of steak and wine, a bottle of malt in the capacious pocket of his costume, Joey smiled his way back towards the outside world.

[namariea]

Hello, Neighbor | V

Since moving in you have compiled a comprehensive list on your mysterious neighbor across the way.

Do Kyungsoo, otherwise known as Asian Bobby Flay and apparently Bruno Mars’ protégé.

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader

Words: 3.4 k

Genre: Fluff

Previous: I II III IV

The coffee shop by the apartment was bustling with life, the endless stream of customers eager to get their caffeine fix.

An easy jazz tune filled the gaps between the chatter in the room but tucked away in the back corner, no amount of smooth saxophone could ease the tenseness in your body. You hung your head in your hands over the table, silently having an existential crisis as the figure across from you hummed in contemplation.

“So let me get this straight….and feel free to stop me if I go astray” Seulgi started, her voice slightly wistful, paying almost no mind to your despair.

You grunted.

“For the past month that you have been living in your apartment, you have been having sporadic encounters with the guy living across from you”

Grunt.

“During that time, you thought nothing of those moments except for about two weeks ago when you apparently saw him looking … how was it you described it…. Ah, like Korean Adonis”

Your head slipped lower in your hands.

Grunt. “And since said moment, rather than simply asking the boy why he was dressed like some incubus you decided the logical path to take would be to just never look at him again. By keeping your curtains closed for the past two weeks in an attempt at avoiding him…”

…

“Are you an idiot?”

Slipping from your grasp, you let your forehead crash into the table with an audible thud. People around turned and glanced quizzically in your direction, but you paid them no mind, starting a rhythmic smashing of your face against the surface. You heard Seulgi give a forced, polite laugh and quietly apologize to the fellow patrons saying something along the lines of quarter life crisis, nothing to see here, terribly sorry. Groaning, you gave your forehead a couple more good thumps before looking up. You were immediately met with a blank face, but you knew she was secretly reveling in your pain.

You are surrounded by sadists.

“I really do not see what’s the problem here, from how you’re reacting he must have gone from 0 to 10 real quick”

You grumbled from your splayed position on the table

“That’s not true….”

“He was at least a 7 before that”

Seulgi gave you a dull look

“…8.6 at the most.”

Letting out a bored sigh and picking at the remnants of what was a blueberry muffin, she deliberated “So you have always had a hot neighbor, woo, good for you, but just because seeing him in something other than baggy workout clothes suddenly got you all hot and bothered-”

“Oi, I was not hot and bothered-”

“-as I was saying” she gave you a pointed look, not appreciating your interruption “now would be the prime time to be looking, no? Icarus loved the warmth of sun so what did he do? Boy got himself some wings to see it closer.”

“Leading him to fly too close, thus melting his wings and falling to his death.” you deadpanned.

She waved a dismissive hand, “Pah, that’s just the Grimm brother’s version"

“Seulgi, the Grimm brothers didn’t even- look” you sighed, finally sitting yourself up from the table.

“You’re right, I probably shouldn’t have avoided him for so long, but what else was I supposed to do? He looked so…” you trailed, hand waving in the air in search of a fitting word, not having to wait long as your impatient comrade offered after a beat,

“-bangin?”

“Wow. It is truly a wonder why you never took the literary route when we were in art school”

Seulgi scoffed, taking a sip from her coffee “I had the option of being active and dancing to my heart’s content or sitting on my butt all day taking notes about some dead guys poems, it was a no question”

“Regardless” she continued, “the reality of the matter is that you now know you have the hots for your beta-turned-alpha neighbor and you’re going to have to face him eventually, lest you move again”

She almost smacked you from across the table as you gave a thoughtful look. Looking at her watch she reached for her bag and began to stand, you reluctantly following suit, realizing your break was over and it was time to head back to the office.

“Don’t be such a coward. He’s just a guy, he won’t even be in the same room as you when you talk for crying out loud, not unless he decides to break through two panes of glass, leap 10 feet over and land in your apartment. Though seeing your behavior, I wouldn’t be surprised if he resorted to that”

“And just what exactly am I supposed to say if he asks where I’ve been?” You shook your head as you felt the start of a headache beginning behind your eyes.

If he even noticed my absence that is

“Well that’s your fault it dragged on this long, isn’t it” She replied flippantly, the both of you exited the shop and started walking towards the subway.

“But if you want my opinion, I’d highly suggest not revealing how you have hiding because you cant control your impure thoughts around him-”

“For God’s sake, I told you it’s not even like that -”

“Ohhhh” An arm came out in front of you to bring you to a halt on the sidewalk. Turning to you slowly, you saw the beginnings of a smile take form on your friends face.

A very scary smile. One that only appeared when she was about to suggest something really dumb.

You were getting bad ju-ju vibes.

“I know exactly what you should say, say that you had …company…over and didn’t want to be disturbed”

You blinked. Once. Twice.

Then you hit her over the head.

“He has never shown any interest in me, what am I supposed to gain from that?”

Not deterred from your violence, if anything her eyes lit up with mischief, she pressed on “nono, it’s great, it’s like in those dramas, you throw down the boyfriend card and he is suddenly drawn to you because your unobtainable” she actually let out a cackle.

“I’m saying this because you are my friend and I care about your well being,” you almost let out an appreciative awww, but alas, tender moments were never in your cards.

“But if I find out you haven’t emerged from your hermit hole by Wednesday, I’ll come over and get his attention myself” You began to protest but she wasn’t hearing any of it “whether or not you listen to my advice is up to you, but so help me if I don’t get some juicy update by Wednesday I’ll take matters into my own hands”

Sadists, I say

You were walking past the living room one day when you heard a sharp yowl from the window.

Pausing on your way to the kitchen, you cast a tentative glance towards the cat perched on the windowsill, figure hidden by the curtain. You listened carefully, thinking that maybe she got her claws tangled in the fabric of the curtain again. The first time that had happened you calmly approached her with the full intention of relieving her from her cloth prison, as any caring owner would do. However, it would appear the frightened lump of fur was so lost in her terror, clearly thinking that this was the end, that she mistook your hand for that of the curtain God’s there to take her away. She then proceeded to bite and scratch anything she could get her stubby hands on.

Two and a half hours in an emergency waiting room later, you were being stabbed by multiple needles and given three beautiful stitches on your right hand. The freeloader didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed when you got back.

Since then you have always made sure she was fully aware of your presence before doing anything to help, for both her safety and yours. But secretly you were also still bitter about the first incident that you wanted to watch her struggle and realize her folly.

That’ll show her that the one with the opposable thumbs is the boss around here.

Another yowl came from behind the curtain and you made your way over, rolling up your sleeves in preparation.

“Missed me that much huh?”

You stopped mid-step, hand halting in pushing up your sleeve. The smooth baritone carried to your ears and you couldn’t stop the nervous stutter your heart gave in response. You were not ready for this confrontation, it wasn’t even Wednesday yet. Your palms began to sweat, not knowing how to proceed, however the voice was oblivious to your presence, and carried on.

“Looks like it’s just you and me again, Miss Mimi. Are you sure your owner hasn’t left you for some other stray?”

Meow.

There was an easy laugh in response, “Well hopefully despite wherever she has run off to she has you looked after, I wouldn’t want to have to pull some mission impossible stunt and save you”

Your eyes widened in horror as Seulgi’s words from the other day echoed in your mind. There was absolutely no way he was serious, you knew this, but just the thought of him being in your apartment set your mind into a frenzy.

You heard a phone ringing in the distance, “Ah, I’ll have to cut this short today, Mi. Say Hi for me the next time you see her, ok?”

Meow.

The silence that followed indicated that he had indeed left his spot at the window and you let out a shuttering breath. A million thoughts were swirling in your mind, so he did wonder where you’ve been. Granted, he said it because he wanted to know Mimi wasn’t going to starve, but it was still indirectly about you nonetheless. He also said he had to cut it short today, just how often does this man sit there talking to your cat? You try to think, but you were positive you’ve never heard him before today.

The nudge to your leg had you looking down, staring into bright cerulean eyes.

“You’re either the best or worst wingman ever”

She purred in response.

Eyes cracked open tiredly, blearily staring at the ceiling you blinked until your vision cleared.

Noting the lack of sunlight, you rolled over and pressed the home button on your phone, the harsh light making you squint in annoyance.

5:33 AM glared back at you and a groan highly resembling a beached whale emitted from your throat. Knowing there was no way the remaining hour before your alarm went off will be spent sleeping, you begrudgingly rolled out of bed.

Today was Wednesday. The thought came to you as you stirred creamer into your coffee, throwing a wary eye towards the closed curtains in your living room. Oh, how easy it would be to just keep them closed for all eternity… it wasn’t like you were some houseplant that needed sunlight for photosynthesis anyways. But you knew deep down that you would have to face the inevitable, because even though you loathed awkward situations with a burning passion, you feared the wrath of the brunette waiting for a reply today much more.

Best not tempt the fates today.

Cautiously you approached the curtains, suddenly feeling a strong sense of trepidation.

Oh square up you pathetic f-

You pulled back one of the white curtains with gusto, coffee in hand and eyes shut in anticipation. Cracking an eye open, you almost let out a victorious laugh, as you were met with dark curtains blocking your view from the apartment across.

Well…that wasn’t half bad.

You took this time to take in the view you had for the first time in two weeks. It really makes the room look a lot nicer, you mused, glancing back and watching the rising sun trickle in and brighten the living room. You almost felt foolish for your behavior, it was your house for Pete’s sake, you shouldn’t be letting one encounter prevent you from living your life as you wished.

Berating yourself, remembering your inner dilemma weeks ago that you knew nothing of the dark-haired male that lived in the other apartment. You owed each other nothing and if you didn’t want to interact with the man all you had to do was not talk to him, it wasn’t like the conversation was mandatory every time you saw him, you weren’t friends.

But you want to have those conversations, don’t you? Wouldn’t mind getting all buddy-buddy with Mr. Mysterious.

Your left eye twitched in annoyance as your heart and mind continued to have heated debate over what if’s. Once your coffee had gone cold and barely half finished, you were no closer to coming to a decision on how you were going to interact with your neighbor whenever you saw him again. Making the decision to get ready for work earlier than usual, you did so for no other reason than not wishing to be in this apartment any longer.

Picking up the keys off of the coffee table, as you made your way towards the door an hour ahead of schedule you missed the site of a familiar pair dark curtains pulled back.

Once you returned to your apartment the sun had almost set in the sky.

Not only had you arrived earlier to work that day, you had unconsciously stayed later than usual as well.

You thought nothing about it until Seulgi found you in your office, typing away at your computer.

She all but forced you out of the building, raging to herself about I don’t care if it’s not politically correct in 2017, but you need to grow a pair and man up, woman.

In all honestly it was not your intention to stay late, you were so caught up in your work that you simply lost track of time.

It was not until Seulgi found you that you realized what may or may not be waiting for you when you arrived home.

Having left your curtains pulled back, it was highly likely that you would encounter the other when you got back, and you still hadn’t figured out what you were going to say to him.

Deciding to wing it as you approached your door, as you unlocked it and stepped into the hallway you took a long, meditative breath.

Here goes nothing.

You started by walking to the light switches in your hallway and in one fluid motion, your living room was illuminated.

If you were going to do this, you weren’t going to do it as a coward.

You had, as a wise woman once said, grown a pair and manned up.

Not entering the lit-up room just yet, you instead walked back to the bedroom and changed out of your work clothes, wishing for nothing more than to get out of the business casual attire you were confined in all day.

Slipping on a baseball tee and some shorts you took your laptop out of your bag and padded towards the kitchen.

Since the kitchen and living room were situated in an open concept you had no choice but to eventually face the kitchen, however you busied yourself with dinner first, as your stomach was making itself known.

Whipping up a quick meal that you found on your laptop, you hummed as you worked, mindlessly bopping to the music that you had playing in the background.

Once you finished cooking you walked to the cabinet and refilled Mimi’s bowl before taking your culinary creation to the small dining table.

While watching an episode of your favourite drama you finished off your dinner and did the dishes. Returning back to the table to retrieve your laptop, you had intended to finish the remainder of the episode.

Meow.

You swore that cat was out to get you.

You stopped midway from picking up your laptop and glanced over at your cat who was sitting on the windowsill.

Not alone.

You stared at the man in the distance and though you couldn’t properly see him, you nevertheless lent forward and offered a polite bow.

He returned the gesture and you took a deep breath.

Showtime.

You began to make your way over to the window, closing the laptop and tucking it under your arm as you gave the man before you your undivided attention.

“I’m sure she has told you all of my deepest darkest secrets by this point,” you started, throwing a suspicious look at the furry mass by your hip “there isn’t a loyal bone in her body.”

The man smiled and let out a chuckle, “She has been talking about you in great detail I’m afraid”

“Just bad things, I presume”

“Only the worst” he offered a secretive smirk and you snorted.

“Speaking of the worst, I was afraid that the paint fumes had done you in” setting your laptop down you paused at his words and your mind went into overdrive thinking about how you were going to respond.

Briefly you wondered back to your friend’s advice, wondering if you should lie and make up some outlandish story.

Deciding that living a life of treachery was not something that tickled your fancy, you looked up in response.

“Ah, almost, I must have breathed in too many fumes, I was quite sick so I was out of commission for the last while” that wasn’t a whole lie, you were feeling oddly sick, just that it was most definitely not from paint fumes.

But like hell you were going to let him know that.

He let out a hum and nodded his head, apparently accepting your answer, but his eyebrows then furrowed.

“But you’re fine now, right?” he looked cute, worrying over you like a mother hen.

You gave him a grateful smile, waving your hand dismissively.

“It’s going to take more than paint fumes and bad ramen to do me in, fear not good sir”

“Besides, I need to see if SooJin wakes up from her coma and realizes that Joonwoo-“

“-is actually the man that saved her from the burning building when she was a child and that he is being swindled by her uncle who wants to take over the company?” you blinked at the excited look the boy gave you, who was nodding his head eagerly, hands animatedly waving as he spoke.

“….you watch soap operas?” You couldn’t believe the usually reserved man was actually gushing about a daytime drama.

Eat it, Seulgi, you uncultured swine. I told you it was an art.

“Well I’m never home to watch them when they air, but I usually stream them when I get the chance.

I dislocated my ankle really bad a few months ago and was put on home arrest, it was the only thing on at the time and I’ve been hooked ever since” He let out a sheepish laugh as his shoulders shrugged indifferently.

You let out a loud laugh and he seemed startled by the sound, but you weren’t paying attention to him anymore as tears began to well up in your eyes.

You started to shake as giggles bubbled from your throat, needing your hand to brace on the windowsill, not being able to stand straight.

“I can’t…believe…this…is happening…” You could barely breathe, “-looks are definitely deceiving” You commented, sending him a sly smile, eyebrows wiggling.

His face suddenly was dusted with a stunning shade of pink and you wanted nothing more than to squish his cheeks together.

Too precious

He began to mutter something about being totally manly and how it was good study material.

You started to come down from your hysteria but the smile never left your face.

“It’s ok, it will be our little secret, neighbor. But really,” you leaned in conspicuously, as if you were discussing something top secret.

“What do you think Soojin’s next move will be once she wakes up?”

From that moment on you managed to entice him into a totally manly conversation about plot holes and never-ending character resurrections.

Much like work, you were so lost in the conversation, completely forgetting about the awkwardness that you were supposed to be feeling, that you lost track of the hours passing as the two of you talked. The conversation drifted from daytime dramas, settling on mindless chatter that left you with bits of information about the man before you that you never knew you wanted to know.

All the while a wide smile adorned both of your faces.

Chapter VI

[carlshameless]

The same yard.

Carl Gallagher x Female OC

Chap. IV | Slow burn fic | Unedited

First | Prev. | Next

Follows the storyline, though some things will be altered (Canon Divergence). No real storyline. Friendship to lovers.

Warnings: typical Shameless warnings

Kirin rubbed her hands together as she stood out on the porch of her house looking over at the big black truck that blocked her view of the Gallagher's house. She looked over at the house to the left, the one Steve had bought, and could distinctly make out Fiona's face as she peeked through the curtain to try and spy on the going's on in her old home.

It had been a few days since Kirin had last seen Carl, or Debbie, or anyone from the Gallagher family after the return of their mother, Monica Gallagher, and her girlfriend Roberta. The night that the family found out she had returned, they all rushed over to the Jackson's house leaving Kirin with Kev and Veronica, along with their foster child, Ethel and her son, to stay back at the house and watch over their dinner that was in the process of roasting in the oven.

With Ethel being the only one around Kirin's age, she became close with the girl as they waited hours for the Gallagher children to return home. Kirin never really talked to her before, mostly because of the weird things she spoke about of her past life, but Kirin found she was actually pretty normal when she wasn't talking about her husband Clyde, or the other wives. They played some board games for a while, the older girl even taught Kirin how to bake a few things, given that they had enough time. 

Midnight was the time the Gallagher siblings finally arrived home, and when Monica walked in behind the children with Frank and her girlfriend in tow, V wasted no time in going out to look for her good friend, Kev and Ethel following her as they tried to calm the worried woman.

"Goodnight Kirin." Ethel farewelled to her new friend who nodded back in response, watching as the young girl and her baby followed Kevin out the front door.

"Oh, my! Is that little Kirin?" Monica cooed as she grabbed the girl's cheeks. "Look how big you've gotten. Isn't she so big now Frank?" She grabbed Kirin's face, bringing it to her chest as she spun around to Frank. Roberta didn't like all the attention that her girlfriend was now showing to her husband.

"Let go of it Monica, or else it might think you're it's mother and attach itself like the rest of these leeches," Frank grumbled. The man jumped away from the small girl as she started to growl at him when he tried to pass through to get to the kitchen.

"Shut the fuck up, Frank," Lip said as he detached Monica from Kirin. "C'mon, bed. All of you." Lip ordered, handing Liam over to Kirin and directing her and Debbie towards their room, then putting a hand on Carl's head to spin the boy toward the stairs. The two teenaged boys followed the children upstairs as their mother bid them all goodnight and then waited for the response that never came.

"Where's Fiona?" Kirin asked as she looked down at the two older boys as they climbed the stairs. Carl and Debbie looked down at the steps, their eyes avoiding her, while Lip and Ian looked at each other.

"She's just taking a break, too much to handle right now, but she'll be back," Lip said reassuringly to all three children. As they reached the top of the stairs, Ian put his hands on Carl's shoulder and steered him into the boy's room, the younger boy looking back out as he watched the two girls head towards Debbie's room.

"Is she really going to take Liam?" Debbie asked as she looked at the sleeping baby resting his head on Kirin's shoulder.

"They're gonna have to pry him from my cold, dead fingers. But it's nothing you have to concern yourself about, okay Deb?" The girl nodded as she helped her friend to place Liam in his cot. As the girls made themselves comfortable in their shared bed, Lip turned off their light and left them to go and sort out Carl. 

The two girls spent half an hour talking about the night's events over at Sheila's before Debbie finally dozed off. Kirin was close to doing the same when she heard a small hissing sound coming from the bedroom floor.

"Pssst"

"What the-" Kirin looked over the edge to find Carl lying on the floor. "What are you doing?" She whispered as she tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes. Being the deep sleeper that Debbie was, it was no wonder she didn't wake up from the noise was making as he spoke up.

"I couldn't sleep." He said, reaching up to the bed to pull down the girl's blanket to cover himself a little.

"Hey." Kirin hissed as she looked over to see some of the blankets had moved off of Debbie.

"What? It's cold."

"Why didn't you bring your own blanket then?"

The room was silent for a second as Carl came up onto his elbows. "You know how hard it is to get across these floorboards without someone in this house waking up. I had to crawl down the hallway like I was in boot camp." He complained as he laid down on his stomach.

Eventually, Carl would speak up about what was on his mind, but until then Kirin turned to her side so she could see the boy better as they stared at each other through the darkness in comfortable silence.

That was the last time Kirin or Carl had seen each other, for early that morning Serena was at the bedside shaking Kirin awake, practically dragging her home while she was mentioning something about how Fiona had filled her in on the situation at the Gallagher's. Kirin currently wasn't allowed over while Monica and Frank had taken charge of the house, and with Carl flunking a grade, she rarely saw him during, before or after school as Monica was right there to drop the Gallagher's younger kids off and pick them up.

"Good morning neighbor." A gentle voice broke Kirin from her thoughts. The young girl looked out towards the sidewalk where a smiling Ethel stood holding up a shovel.

"I was shoveling out the snow on our footpath and wondered if you would like yours done as well." She asked kindly. Kirin walked down her porch steps to meet Ethel at the fence that surrounded their front yard.

"Nah, it's cool. I like the snow to build up, then make holes and cover them so people fall in them." Kirin shrugged.

"Oh, okay." Ethel was a little concerned but decided not to question her.

"Veronica is making you do chores on the weekend as well?" Kirin asked, gesturing to the shovel.

"Oh no. It was such a beautiful Sunday that I just felt like doing some goodwill in the Lord's name." Ethel explained, sending a small prayer up towards the sky.

"You wanna come into my house and take a break? I can even help you with it later if you want ?" Kirin said, opening the gate. Ethel walked into the front yard and left her shovel at the foot of the steps leading up to the porch.

"You don't have to. I'm almost done with the footpath, I'm going to start in the backyard soon, hopefully get it cleared to get it ready for harvest next season."

Kirin opened her front door and gestured for Ethel to go in, following the girl as she took her gloves and coat off. Kirin closed the front door to keep the cold air out and then took the girls coat off her to drape over the stair railing.

"I'll help. Nothing better to do anyway." Kirin shrugged, leading the older girl towards the kitchen. Ethel took this chance to take a look at the house. Bare walls, some with torn wallpaper and others with fist-sized holes, a small lounge with no tv, couches covered in clothes and dirty throw overs and an old dilapidated kitchen that had a sink filled with last night's dirty dishes.

"Thank you for inviting me in. Your house is…nice" Ethel said slowly as she watched a cockroach scurry across the floor.

"It's a shit hole, you don't have to lie," Kirin said as she pulled out a can of soda from a box. "Here. Serena took a couple of boxes of Soda from stock at the bar she works on her weekend shift. Sorry, it's not cold, our fridge has been on the fritz the past couple of days. It's all we have to drink unless you want a corona?"

"This is fine, thank you." Ethel accepted the can and took a seat at the round table.

"Woah, watch out," Kirin warned as she came over to the table where one of her shoelaces and her mother's used needle sat under a messy pile of bills. "Kev will kill me if you contract a disease while you're here." Kirin carefully picked up the needle like Serena taught her and discarded it into a sharps container she had V steal from the nursing home, if only for the safety of the child of a drug addict.

"So is it just you and your sister that live here?" Ethel struck up a conversation as she sipped on her drink. Kirin brought over some crackers for them to eat.

"Most of the time, yeah. Mom’s in and out every couple weeks. Dad used to live here, but he's in prison serving time.”

"What is he in for? If you don't mind me asking…"

Kirin gestured to the holes in the walls, "Anger issues. Anything and anyone is his targets."

"I think the saying is '- his punching bag'." Ethel corrected.

"No, I'm pretty sure I had it. Dad still has a heap of weapons hiding around the house. Sis said that the neighborhood used to be scared to walk past the front of the house 'cause he used to sit on the porch with his shotty." Kirin said in-between mouthfuls of crackers. "He had a baseball bat that he's cracked a few bones with, as well. Saving it for baseball season." Kirin winked.

"You're into baseball?"

"I'll play anything if it means not sitting at home, bored out of my mind. Gonna join in football season as well, while I'm still at the age that they accept girls." Kirin finished off her drink, scrunched up the can and landed it straight into the bin. "Might join Kev's basketball team, if I'm lucky. You should join up, it'll be fun."

"Oh, I'm not so sure." Ethel laughed nervously. "Mr. Ball tried to teach me but I'm not very good at those types of things."

"Come with me." Kirin abruptly stood up and went back down the hallway to the staircase. Ethel followed, discarding her rubbish as she passed through the house. "Up here," Kirin called out as she opened the door to her room, Ethel making her way in not long after.

The older girl looked around the small room and found it to be in a lot better condition than the rest of the house. Posters on the wall, a single bed, a desk which was covered in engravings and graffiti sat off to the left and a sizable window that looked to the front yard. Kirin opened up her closet, where a whole bunch of different sports equipment tumbled out.

"Here it is." Kirin pulled out the baseball bat she was talking about earlier. She gave it a few swings before handing it over to Ethel. "It's a little stained, but still in prime condition."

Ethel was a little concerned about the dark red patch at the top of the bat. "What does this stand for?" She asked as her finger traced over an initial carved into the wood, which looked similar to the ones that were etched into a lot of the furniture in the room. Kirin glanced over it before going back into her closet.

"C.G. It's Carl's initials. Never realized that was on there before. He always marks something when he comes over."

"Does he come over often?" The older girl asked as she noticed one of Carl's beanies and jacket slung over the back of her desk chair.

"Sometimes. Only when he needs to hide when he gets in trouble, or when I'm not over at the Gallagher's, which is rare. In case you haven't noticed, there isn't much to do here."

"What about this? The sister's and I were taught how to make these when we were kids." Ethel said as she found a paper cup phone lying on the floor near the window sill. Kirin gave her a look when the older girl started to reminisce about her childhood. As Ethel went to pick up the paper cup, she realized that the line was cut.

"That's old. Carl has the other end. We used to plan stuff on that thing before a truck came through and snapped the line. We used so much string…" Kirin shook her head. Who would have thought that finding string would be such a struggle?

"Do you do everything with Carl? Don't you ever play with Debbie?"

Kirin shrugged her shoulders, "I guess. I play with Debbie sometimes but most of the time she pretends she's an adult and bosses us around."

Ethel was very curious about these children and their lives because they were so different to how she was brought up. Just as she was about to press the younger girl for some more information, Kirin cut her off as she emerged from the wardrobe, grin on her face as she held a puck and two hockey sticks. 

"Ever hit one of these before?"

"Yes." Ethel said confused as the grin widened. 

"How about at a moving target?"

[zainab1x1s]

▲ five time my muse thought about kissing yours, and the one time they did. agan jovia thanks

Five times Josh thought about kissing Olivia “Liv” Roberts, and one time he did.

i.

Okay, so he knows it’s stupid or whatever to want to kiss her right after they just met. Which is why he’s not going to do it. I mean, not that he isn’t stupid, because there are a couple of guys on the football team that have witnessed things that can’t be unseen, but he’s not going to be stupid anymore. Well, at least not when it comes to this. Because he thinks he might actually like her, you know? And, to be honest with you, he doesn’t know exactly what that means, or even if it’s going to lead anywhere, but he’s not about to mess up his shot within the first meeting.

He’s gotta be honest, though - it wasn’t the easiest. Because she was just sitting there, talking about him falling in love with her while he was locked away in prison and romanticizing her through her letters, and at some points their heads were too close together to be doing anything but kissing, and it was all a bit disorienting, if he was real with you.

The only thing that stopped him was the realization that he still had to go to football practice, and the inability to convince himself that his coach would accept talking to a very cute girl as an excuse for being late that. And even that barely stopped him. Josh kept talking to her as he stood up and shuffled toward his gym bag, his eyes not leaving her for a second. Even when she convinced him to get off of the bleachers and run through the field, Josh barely jogged, still laughing and talking and looking back as he eventually sped up.

He wanted to keep talking to her. He wanted to hear about her dumb hypothetical scenarios where he ended up the pining idiot (which, as time went by, began looking less and less hypothetical). He wanted to kiss her, and it was pretty hard trying to convince himself not to.

It was worth it, though. He probably shouldn’t have been so sure of that right away, but he was. He liked hearing her talk too much for it to not be.

ii.

Josh had almost a schedule, which was saying something for someone who sort of did everything haphazardly. but his almost schedule went a little like this: Monday through Wednesday he for sure spent with the football team, unless someone else specifically asked to sit with them, and then he sat with them because, like, he’s not an asshole. Friday he sometimes sat with the football team, but only if they were going out later that night or there was a game and they needed to plan pre-party shit. Otherwise, he was on the far right bleachers with just him and his sandwich.

Thursday, though. Thursday was a god’s day. Thursday Josh had always spent by himself, every single time, without fail. If anyone asked, he just told them he had something planned. The football team had fallen out of the habit of asking, knowing that he was always, always, going to pick his turkey sandwich and the far right bleachers over them every time. He needed that day to pull himself out of the stupid facade that was Badlands Prep, needed time to get away from things that people kept treating as important or ground-shattering. Thursday was his alone day.

Which is why he couldn’t understand why the girl from the other day was walking over to him right that second.

“So,” she said as she sat down, as if she hadn’t just interrupted a boy mid-bite of a sandwich and clearly isolating himself. “I realized I never finished going over the theories with you the other day, and my dad brought up a good one today at breakfast this morning that I really think you’d appreciate.”

As Liv went on about her theory - which was that he was in a very elaborate game of truth or dare, one of which being that he had to pretend that he was a museum statue that had somehow gotten out - Josh tried his best to surreptitiously swallow the morsel in his mouth and came across a striking realization.

He was having a really good time. Like, actually, a really good, non-exhausting time.

And the more she talked about his inability to control himself, the more he wanted to kiss her.

“Right? Because you seem like the kind of guy that would get carried away with that kind of thing.”

Josh only nodded, a huge smile on his face. “Yeah, uh. You’re right about that.” He handed her half of his sandwich, a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. “But have you considered this theory?”

They talked until the bell rang, and barely made it time for class.

iii.

They had spent too long flirting to not finally go on some kind of date. Along the same vein, they spent way too long talking about the different ways they could break into the MOMA to not go there for their first official date.

He felt almost nervous. He felt like he should have been nervous. They literally met because her dad arrested him for being cross-faded and breaking into their date spot in the middle of the night. He insisted on driving his clunky, atrocious, cherry red car through New York streets, and it was pulled up in front of her apartment building. He was standing in front of her door either severely underdressed or severely overdressed, considering they never discussed a dress code, and he had no idea who was going to open it. And yet, he wasn’t the least bit nervous.  

Maybe Liv had cast a spell on him. Some kind of un-nervous-ifying, un-exhausting, unable-to-stop-smiling-until-his-face-physically-hurt kind of spell. It only made sense.

And when she opened the door, Josh realized it was the only logical explanation.

She appeared in what must have been a haze of glory, but was more likely just Josh being able to focus on anything except her. She was beautiful. She was more than beautiful. Beautiful didn’t even begin describing how she looked. She was art, and Josh could only think of two things.

One: How could he have possibly gone this long without knowing her, dating her, doing this?

And two: How much he really wanted to kiss her right then.

Instead, he only stuck out his arm, already feeling his cheeks hurting from smiling too much, and said, “Ready to go? MOMA’s not gonna break into itself and all.”

iv.

Time was always a weird concept for Josh. When he was running - on the field, from the cops, anything that got his heart pumping - time kicked into hyperdrive. He was moving at the speed of light suddenly, laughter trailing behind him. When he was drunk - like, really drunk - time moved in sort of jump cuts, from one moment to another with no connection between the two. Trying to be sober when you really wanted to be drunk was like being frozen in time, like moving through molasses, except not moving at all. Parties themselves existed in a world outside of time, a weird subsection that didn’t fall under any of the above. 

He had, however, never experienced the slowing of time. And it seemed he kind of liked it.

The date couldn’t have been more than an hour or two in, and every moment felt like a lifetime, holding a million conversations per each minute that went by. He was on autopilot, but not in the sense that he had checked out. Rather, the words and stories and laughter spilled so easily from his mouth he didn’t even have to stop to think about them. Everything about Liv seemed more and more unreal.

It took everything in him not to kiss her. Like, he knew he said that a lot that day, but wow was it real this time. Because every time she moved, laughed, shook her head and smiled at his awful jokes, it was in slow motion. Like every sign in the world was telling Josh that this was his chance, that he had to seize it before it ended, and he was going to do it, too. He had to, right? 

But then she burst out laughing at a naked statue’s penis and the mood quickly shifted. 

Maybe that was for the best.

v.

The night came to a close before either of them could fully accept it, with reluctant “I should probably bring you back now, right?”s and “it’s getting late, my dad might wonder where I am”s stumbling over each other on their way to the realization that the date had to end at some point.

“One of these days,” Josh said with a striking amount of confidence as he walked Liv back up to her apartment, “I’m taking you somewhere better.”

Liv only raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Somewhere better than the MOMA? The world-famous MOMA?”

Josh was diligent in his answer, not missing a beat. “Yep.” He stopped to look at her for a second, smiling like an idiot before adding, “maybe I’ll take you to The Louvre.”

“The Louvre?”

“Yeah. The Louvre.”

“Sounds expensive,” was all she said. “What if the trip there puts you in debt, and then we’re stuck in France forever?”

“Then I’ll take up a job at a street performer,” he said with an amazing amount of conviction. 

This brought out a chuckle in her. “Can you even street perform?”

Josh shrugged. “I mean, how hard can it be?” Freezing in his tracks, Josh began a poor, almost comical mime-in-the-box presentation. He bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing as he resumed his position Liv’s side. “See? We’ll be fine.”

An even louder laugh this time. “Okay, it’s settled. We’re doomed. We’re going to be stuck in Paris forever with no way of getting home, all because you tried to one up the MOMA.”

They had reached Liv’s apartment, and they were both stalling for time and were completely aware of the fact. Josh released her hand so that she could unlock the door, but leaned forward until their heads were nearly touching again. “If it helps,” he said, his eyes lighting up as he spoke, “there are worse things than being stuck in Paris with a cute girl named Liv.”

He should have kissed her, but he didn’t. He had bigger plans.

vi.

Driving back to the MOMA and then driving around looking for a dollar store in his dumb, clunky car was the worst idea Josh had ever had. Well, maybe not the worst, because Josh has had some pretty stupid ideas, but it was up there, for sure. It was all for a dumb, stupid, dorky joke that she probably wasn’t even going to find that funny, but he had to do it, you know? He couldn’t not do it.

When he returned to his door, he found his heart pounding like it was about to beat out of his chest. He held the picture in the cheap ornate frame closer to his chest, as if it could quell the sound of his heartbeat. When she opened the door, though, a gigantic grin spread across his face like it was instinct, like that was his body’s natural reaction to just seeing her.

God, he was fucking wrecked.

“What are you doing?” Liv said slowly, but as her eyes fell on the picture frame, a small smile of realization spread across her face, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

“Well, I thought I’d get you something from the MOMA. As a date present,” Josh said, outstretching his hands and presenting the picture in all its glory. “Don’t worry, I didn’t steal it.” He gave her an overdramatic wink and then added, “I just bought it from the gift shop and threw it in a cheap frame.” Another dramatic wink.

Liv was already on the verge of belly laughter, he could tell.

“I-” she began to say something, but instead took the picture and sat it on a wall behind the door. When she turned back, the two of them wore matching ear-to-ear smiles, not needing to say anything - not being able to find anything that would quite communicate what they were feeling for each other in that moment.

And that was when he kissed her. And, okay, maybe it was too soon, and maybe it was stupid, but it also would’ve been stupid if he didn’t kiss her. He had to do it, you know? There wasn’t an option this time.

And when her hands found their way to Josh’s hair, and their teeth clanked together from smiling so hard, and his arms wrapped around her waist, Josh realized that (for what might have been the first time in his life) his gut instinct was right.

[totalfanfreak]

With This Ring

With This Ring

[This is for the request - Can you write something where the reader has to go under cover as a couple with Morgan and Spencer is super jealous, maybe possessive Reid?]

“Welcome to the wonderful world of jealousy, he thought. For the price of admission, you get a splitting headache, a nearly irresistible urge to commit murder, and an inferiority complex. Yippee.”  ― J.R. Ward, Dark Lover

 “Since everyone’s been relayed their assignments I say we should get to work.”

“Oh, do you need me back in the lair yet? I want to help with Y/N’s makeup.”

You smirked over at Garcia. “In emergencies I have been known to be able to pretty myself up.”

“But you need to take it up a level, you’re going to be out there at night, you have to shine if you want to catch the unsub’s attention.”

Hotch actually smiled at this. “She’s right.”

Garcia slapped your arm before turning to JJ. “And we have to find the perfect dress!”

“What do we need a dress for?

“You’re late, Reid.”

Spencer unclasped his messenger bag before taking a seat. “Sorry, the transit I was on had been delayed.”

“Well, you missed out pretty boy, Y/N and I got hitched.”

Spencer’s forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows went up. “What?”

You laughed. “Not literally, Spence. It’s to catch the unsub, I am excited though, my first undercover assignment.”

Morgan put his arm around you, squeezing you to his side. “And don’t forget the perk of being Mrs. Morgan for the night.”

You pushed him, playfully. “Oh, yeah, such a privilege.”

“Hey, now, don’t be like that; I’m just as honored to have such sweet honey on my arm.”

You laughed again, until you heard a deep snort.

“You okay, Spence?”

He looked surprised to be caught. “What? Oh, yeah, peachy.”

Gif by spencerreideuphoria

Actually, he didn’t, he looked pissed. “Peachy, huh?”

“Come on, Y/N, we have too much to do to get ready. We need to find the dress for tonight.”

You stumbled as Garcia pulled you from your seat. “Never thought shopping would come with this job.”

“It has now, so come on.”

You don’t know why you were bothering with going through the racks, though you got the final say, the girls were the ones picking out dresses for you to try on.

“How about this one?”

You grimaced at the straps, nothing there but a few pieces of material to cover some choice areas. “I don’t think so, remember, this guy wants the girls to look upper class but timid, subdued, while their partner is an egotistical, alpha male.”

“No wonder Morgan was picked.”

You giggled at Prentiss. “Now that’s mean, Garcia, are you going to stand for that?”

“Absolutely not, it’s bad enough my Adonis has been taken away, I don’t need to hear his name being dragged through the sewers.”

You laughed as Prentiss held up her hands in defense.

“Oh, guys, how about this one?”

JJ winced. “That looks like something you’d wear to work.”

“Yeah, so it looks like me.”

“But you have to be someone else, plus it’s a night club not a business lunch.”

“Fine.”

It took hours, you haven’t even gotten to the actual work part of the assignment and you were already exhausted. After finding a dress you agreed upon, which Garcia didn’t fully, you had to pick out shoes. Then get back to the bull pen so Rossi could debrief you while having your hair and make-up done.

“It’s okay to talk but nod as much as you can. It’s better to appear that Morgan is making all the decisions.”

“Can do.”

“You might not feel it now but you may get nervous, that’s natural, use it to your advantage here. If you’re too sure of yourself the unsub may find someone else to target.”

“Okay.”

You could hear boisterous tones coming out of Hotch’s office as he and Spencer exited.

“I’m just saying strategically it may not be the right match.”

“That’s enough, Reid.”

“What’s going on?”

Hotch looked over his shoulder at Spencer who looked like he got his hand caught on a mousetrap.

“I just don’t think you should be the one doing this, Y/N.”

“Gee, thanks Spence, and here I thought you’d be happy for me for finally getting out there.”

“I am! It’s just that I think –“

“What? That I can’t do my job? That I’ll crack under pressure? Screw you, Reid, I thought you were my friend.”

He deflated then, you angrily stomping away.

It was easier than you thought, even with Reid’s words eating away at you, maybe that helped the image, you weren’t sure. But your shoulders were more slackened than they meant to be and you huddled yourself more into Morgan’s large frame. He kept his arm around you as you veered through the crowds. Occasionally, you would look down at the platinum band on your left hand. Giving shy grins up at your partner when he kissed the finger.

“You two don’t have to touch that much you know.”

Gif by toyboxboy

Reid’s voice from the earpiece flared your anger again. And you rolled your shoulders before kissing Morgan’s cheek. You could almost feel Reid’s fumes.

“Don’t you two look cozy.”

You turned in Morgan’s arm at the unfamiliar voice.

“White male, mid-forties, his physique matches along to the descriptions keep an eye on him.”

You wanted to nod at Hotch’s voice but kept still and silent.

Morgan grinned while pulling you closer. “I’d say we are.”

“You two married?”

You were about to answer, but Morgan beat you to it. You flushed at breaking character, noting the unsub saw.

“I think the lady was about to answer.”

Morgan pursed his lips, feigning a tad aggravation. “I can speak for her just fine.”

“Aww, I see. Well, congratulations. Hope you enjoy yourselves.”

“Thanks we will.”

You breathed out the air you had been holding. Morgan bending down to your ear.

“You did good.”

You smiled up at him. Still upset at your fumble.

Now that the two of you had caught his attention, the two of you made your way to leave. Hoping he gained enough interest to follow.

“So where to now?”

He shrugged, holding onto your arm. “The park nearby is the best bet. It should be deserted this time of night giving him the opportunity to try and overpower us.”

You nodded, letting him walk you along the sidewalk. It was cold and you were glad to have a warm body next to you.

“If you two have baited him, you don’t have to be that close together now. He’ll need to sidestep Morgan anyhow.”

You nearly scowled at the bitterness in Reid’s tone. Apparently you and Morgan weren’t doing your jobs right…still.

“He might be right. We should seal the deal though.”

Pulling away he had your hands clasped together, swinging them as you would see couples do. Before bending down and giving you a peck on the lips. You were about to grin when your body hunched over, the blare of white noise ringing your ears before suddenly going away.

“Goddamit Reid!”

You and Morgan looked at one another, neither of you having an answer of why Spencer would be acting like this.

“You know, you’re not as good as a kisser as you make out to be, big boy.”

His eyebrow arched, clicking his teeth with his tongue. “Oh, really? Are you suggesting I try again?”

You snorted, when Morgan was wrenched back from you a nylon rope wrapped around his neck.

“You heard her, she might think you’re worth a damn at kissing, but maybe I could give it a try.”

You pulled your pistol from the purse, not taking your eyes off the unsub. “FBI, let him go now!”

“FBI, huh? Now what would be the point in letting go if I’m going to prison anyways?”

It was then you saw something glinting in his hand, a clip blade about to descend. Propelling forward you grasped the arm with the weapon, getting the man to spin in your direction giving Morgan enough of an opening to get out of the hold.

“You little bitch!”

You went to duck, hoping Morgan would get him instead of having to shoot, but then a dull ache welled up on your side, escalating to sharp fire as you fell.

“Y/N!”

Morgan was able to tackle him, taking the knife from his grasp.

“We need EMT here NOW! An agent has been stabbed. Repeat agent has been stabbed.”

You looked at the sticky crimson on your hands, briefly irked that you wouldn’t be able to take the dress back as fatigue came strong. You shook your head.

“I’ll be alright.”

“You will, just stay awake, Y/N.”

You could hear sirens approaching. People yelling as your sight went fuzzy.

“I feel like I want to puke.”

You didn’t, you fell face first on the sidewalk.

Everything was still fuzzy as you came to, but your ears were alert. The sounds of beeping, and IV’s dripping bringing you further awake.

“Y/N?”

“Spence?”

Your mouth was parched, and the sound came out more as a bleat than an actual word. You went to turn to him, only to have the pain shoot up your side.

“Don’t move, they were able to stitch you up, but the wound went deeper than they first thought so you shouldn’t put too much pressure on it until it heals.”

“Is Morgan, okay?”

“He’s fine, a rope burn on his neck is all.”

“And the unsub?”

“Booked and awaiting trial. You did well, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry I got so mad at you. I just – I felt kind of attacked, like you didn’t believe in me and it hurt. It was childish, especially since all of this could have gone a lot worse.”

“But it didn’t. And you don’t have to apologize. It was me being childish. I think…since you first…I see you…I was jealous, Y/N.”

You looked at him, stunned. “What were you jealous of, Spence? Don’t tell me you wanted to wear the dress.”

He shook his head, smiling. “No, I was jealous of Morgan.”

“Why?”

He licked his lips. “Because I can see it, Y/N. Even before this I could see a ting on your finger. I’ve watched you move them so often it was easy to bring up the image of a band sparkling on your finger. But it wasn’t supposed to be Morgan giving it to you, it was supposed to be me.”

“Spence.”

“I know it’s crazy, I just…”

You went to take his hand, flicking the tubing so you could grasp it. “I’ve thought things about you too, Spence. I just never…with this job and everyone leaving all the time and things happening. It didn’t seem possible, and if something went wrong I didn’t want to lose you as a friend.”

“I don’t think that’d happen to us.”

You smiled. “Maybe not. And yeah, maybe for right now I don’t see a ring. But I see you, and I think that is pretty damn good to me.”

He exhaled, grinning. “It sounds good to me, too, Y/N.”

Gif by crimnatic

[audreyineu]

budapest 4/6-4/7

getting to budapest i knew my time was limited, i only got a day and a half there, so i tried my best to hit the ground running. arriving at the hostel i found that check-in did not begin for 2 more hours though, so that kind of stopped me, but i just used the time to get some food. using that lovely little app called google maps i found a small pizza shop called pizza manufaktura and had a hawaiian pizza (pineapple on pizza is GOOD just accept it already). i also had some cherry juice, which was really good actually. i’ve never really seen fully cherry flavored drinks outside of icees, so that's definitely something that america needs to work on. i also discovered that the hungarian word for cherry is meggy. nice. 

i still had an hour to kill after that though so i tried to go find an atm and accidentally walked into the nagyvásárcsarnok, or, for english speakers, the great market hall. it’s an actual full-blown market where people bought their groceries

like people actually came here and picked out their meats, got some vegetables, maybe some spices. it was so cool to see. yeah sure i’ve been farmers markets back home but this was fully someone’s grocery store and it was just interesting to see the difference

the upstairs part was for the tourists and had a bunch of handmaid souvenirs, sometimes the person was sitting out in front of the stall sewing the cloths like the ones in the picture (its blurry, sorry)

there was also a basement-like area and i’m pretty sure the budapest black market operates in it. i’m on a pacific rim kick right now because of the sequel (which wasn’t that good but that’s a different blog post) and if you’ve seen the first one, i really felt like ron pearlman was about to walk out of a secret doorway and offer me some kaiju bone. it was honestly kinda scary, no one was really down there and most of what was being sold was meat and HUGE fish that they kept in a really really small tank, which i’m not really sure would be considered humane? but i guess they were there to get killed so. i’ll let peta deal with that one. 

i wanted to get a picture but the guys behind the stands were very big and also staring me down every time i passed. i decided they wouldn’t like the tourist girl taking pictures of their very compact fish.

anyway, i went back upstairs and bought some cookies, isler and puszedli. isler was a cookie covered with chocolate with jam in the middle and puszedli was a kind of gingerbread muffin type thing covered in a chocolate or vanilla frosting (chocolate was the best one for me). they were both really good but i gotta give a special shout-out to the isler. 

after that it was time to check in so i got changed out of my travel clothes and tried to figure out what to do. i decided to take one of those hop-on hop-off tours, which i typically try to avoid like the plague because i’m not a fan of blatantly shouting out to a place that “hey i’m a tourist!!” but, i had a limited time and those are good to see a city quickly

i rode around for a while. now consider these photos were all #shotonaniphone7 and taken on a moving vehicle so they're not great but.. its what i saw . budapest is pretty darn cool

i got intrigued by a set of stairs looked a bit italian, so i got off on the next stop, and that was definitely the right choice. i found myself at what i think was the bud castle (turns out budapest has two parts, buda and pest separated - i think - by the danube).

to get up you could either walk up a hill or pay to take a little tram car. i obviously chose the tram car, i can walk up a hill any day

all of the museums and the castle were closed by this point (it was around 6), so i couldn’t go in, but the views from up top were stunning

so i roamed around a bit

and started heading in the direction of the stairs that made me get off the bus in the first place. i wasn’t disappointed. it was a really cool little area, and felt really romantic. being there just kinda made you happy

and because i knew how to get back home from the liberty bridge, which was about two bridges down from where i was, i decided to walk back along the river (i took an evening stroll next to the danube!! how cool!) to the bridge to get back to my hostel. 

in my room i met a really nice girl from finland, she’ll come back into the story later, and got ready for bed for what i wanted to be an early morning so i could see as much as possible

of course this didn’t happen, i had a snorer in my room which kept me up so i slept through my alarm and didn’t end up leaving until 11. but it put me starting my day at lunchtime, and i’m not gonna complain about that! i found a small little restaurant called drum cafe who were known for their lángos and goulash. their menu was a trading card display book, which i loved, and i ordered from traditional beef goulash with rice

it was amazing. so so so good. i maybe ate it embarrassingly fast considering how much food there was but it was amazing, i didn’t want to stop eating it

after that i stopped in a small thrift shop i saw on the way there in hopes of buying the shirt that was on a mannequin in the window, but sadly the shirt was “only decoration.” i did get two shirts there anyway

after i decided to walk over to the house of terror, a museum about the facist and communist regimes that held power in hungary and honoring those who died at the hands of those in power.

on the walk there i found a little antique market going on in an alley 

i almost bought an old hungarian swimming medal because why not, but i decided against it. there were all kinds of cool little knick knacks, but i restrained myself and began to actually walk to the museum

pictures were not allowed in the museum (i snuck one of the entrance) so i don't have any (except for the one i snuck) but the museum was increibily interesting. its one thing learning in history class about stuff that went on in eastern europe in the 40s-80s but its another to actually BE in a building where people were kept and tortured, a building where the arrow cross party (a nazi party based in hungary) and the state protection authority (the soviet secret police force in hungary) actually operated. it was. very very solemn. reading about life in that time and seeing the faces of all those who were killed. you ended the museum tour in the basement where the cells were and it was terrifying in there. maybe didn’t help that i was completely alone in the cells at that point, but it was so silent and dark and i think absolutely perfect to demonstrate how horrifying the experience would have been to be one of those prisoners. the doors to the cells weren’t even barred, they were fully solid. you wouldn’t even be able to see outside if you were shut in. every cell was solitary confinement.

so i left the house of terror and decided it was time for something a bit lighter and headed to the széchenyi thermal bath

yep, its THAT yellow building that you see in everyone’s pictures when they go to budapest. it was really nice and relaxing, though i gotta say would probably be better with a group rather than alone. i did meet some people there, but not the same as being there with friends goofing off, so i’ll have to make a return trip

afterwards i decided i’d get on the hop-on hop-off bus again since the man the first time never actually took my ticket and got some REAL hungarian lángos on my way there (if you remember i had some at the easter market in prague) and OH MY GOD was it good. the dough being freshly deep fried makes ALL the difference oh my god. literally just handed it to me out of the frier. i got it with cheese again and honestly i wish i’d just gotten it plain because the cheese took away from the dough. so, so good. it is a lot though, so if you ever get one i recommend that you get it to share

i got back on the bus and road around a bit, i really just wanted to get a better view of the parliament building

i got it for a little bit! not long enough to get a picture because i sat on the wrong side of the bus, but damn that's a beautiful building

i rode until the stop closest to my hostel & got off so i could pack up my stuff. i had a 6 am flight (i just got back to bristol as i’m writing this) and i wanted to be sure i had everything for my 3 am departure time to the airport. while packing my roommate from finland came in & we started talking and she invited me out with her and another guy in the hostel to go to one of the ruin bars called szimpla kert.  i thought you know what, we’d be out till around 2:00, why not just stay awake till i need to leave for airport and have a little fun doing it. so i booked a minibus to take me from the hostel at 3 am with another girl at the hostel and we set off to this ruin bar and 

WOW

they were playing a movie on a huge screen outside??? there was a room with a piano so people could just play music and sing?? there were so many different roms with different vibes and it was absolutely amazing . i wish i could have stayed longer! it was what every little hipster bar in williamsburg (brooklyn) is trying to be and god now that i’ve been to this bar i don’t think i’m gonna be able to go to another bar ever again 

after a night filled with singing (i WAS hanging out with two singers) we headed back at two so i could grab my bag and meet the other girl to leave for the airport and i made it with no problems. 

was i incredibly tired by the time i got on the plane? absolutely! but i had a fantastic time with some really cool people. and with that i’m back in bristol and ready to have some dinner. so i guess closing remarks? plan but at the same time don’t. let there be some spontaneity because spontaneity caused some of the best parts of my trip. also, WALK EVERY WHERE (if you can)

thanks for reading!

audrey

[theemmataylor]

A Frozen Medley || Sebastian, Gaston, Emma, Evelyn, Alaric, and the Mikaelson Brothers

I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI

Kol seemed to hear the words Niklaus didn't say. He was thorough and gentle with his hands. When he thought Nik was ready, his hips moved closer and he held tight onto Nik's hip and carefully pushed inside.

"Relax," he encouraged quietly, though his mind was lost in how amazing it felt, nuzzling his nose against Nik's neck. "I'll be gentle. Just try to relax." Kol went slow, kissing Klaus' shoulder. "I need you, Niklaus. I will always need you."

Nik hugged his arms against his chest and closed his eyes and relaxed. He wasn't sure if he loved this or hated this, he wasn't sure if he wanted it to never stop or to already be over. The sensations that moved through his body were intense, overwhelming, and he didn't know where the discomfort ended and the pleasure began; being taken like this seemed to somehow erase the line between the physical and the emotional, and he was lost. He was completely, completely lost, and all he had was the feeling of Kol inside him, reassuring him --

And when he realized that, all at once, Nik started to love it. He bit the back of his hand hard to stifle a moan and his breathing deepened, then started to become rough. "I want this," he whispered, although he wasn't sure it made sense to whisper since he was already having this. "I want this. I want this.."

For a moment, Kol was afraid that Nik would try to pull away, that he would hate every moment of it and he would blame Kol. He was afraid that, for Nik, the sex had never really been anything more than the need to lay claim to something else, someone new.

As his brother whispered, Kol couldn't help his relief and he picked up his motions, then rolled them in their joined sleeping bag carefully so that Klaus was on his stomach. "Fuck," Kol whispered, biting into Nik's back to control his volume. "Fuck, I've needed you."

Once Kol was finished, much later, he rested over Nik for a while, feeling his own heartbeat, and he kissed his brother's shoulder and neck. He pulled his hips back to separate them and sighed. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

Nik had rested his head on his folded arms and he lay still for a moment, his breath shuddering, before he nodded. "Yes," he whispered, lips moving against his own forearm. "Yes.. I'm fine. But you... might... need to do that more often.." He closed his eyes and took a breath, held it, then let it go and reached up to rub a hand over Kol's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

”Yes," he whispered, rolling to the side and pulling Klaus closer. "You've never let anybody do that for you before, have you?"

Nik shook his head. "No. I don't -- I didn't -- like -- allowing anyone to have control over my body. In any way." He was frowning but happy, odd as it all felt. When he noticed that the cat was lazily tapping her tail against Sebastian's chest, watching them with half-open eyes, he just sighed and turned to completely face Kol.

”I hope..." you weren't disappointed. "I hope to have the chance to be with you again," he admitted, seeming to have forgotten that Klaus had already asked him for that. "If you want me to just... receive, or whatever, though, Nik, that's... I can."

Nik shook his head. He hated feeling younger than Kol, but sometimes it happened and this was one of those times. With a sigh, he kissed Kol sweetly, then closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his.

"Switching.... feels... complete."

Kol nodded. Smiled. He shimmied closer until they were touching stomach to knees. "You should maybe sleep?" His eyes closed and he smiled. "We both should..." Kol chuckled. "You're not done yet, are you?"

His laughter was soft, an almost devious little chuckle, and he pressed his hips into Kol's. "What gives it away, love?"

Kol's kiss this time was rougher. He had stopped thinking about how this was wrong after Elijah had caught them. After Kol had claimed he'd initiated it all. Now he wanted Nik and the urgency of his kiss said as much. He didn't care how many times. He didn't care if they did it until the sun rose again. At least they would keep warm. His teeth came away with Nik's lip and he hummed quietly. "So," Kol said with almost a challenge in his voice. "Do something about it."

“Bite your tongue, brother," he purred, "lest you wish me to bite it for you?"

As if playing with Fate herself, Kol kissed along Nik's jaw and then licked along the edge of his bottom lip. "You can do anything you--"

Sebastian's voice filled the small tent and Kol's heart raced. But the Colonel... Captain. Whatever he was, was just muttering in his sleep.

"This chute won't open..."

The bloody hell did that mean? Must be dreaming of jumping out of planes or some such rubbish.

Kol's wicked grin returned. "Anything you want," he continued, melting against Nik's body, refusing to let real life invade their bubble.

The leopard had stopped purring a while ago, and she sighed when she heard the human speaking. He deserved untroubled dreams -- all of them did. She moved, laying partially atop him, resting her soft, fluffy face alongside his neck so her low purring would be near his ear. She couldn't do magic like this -- even if she hadn't been exhausted from her efforts to break into this prison -- but she could still try to help him feel safe and calm. Purring was sometimes the only tool werecats had, and so it was what she gave him -- the soft sound of acceptance.

Tuning out the quiet rustling and slapping noises coming from the other two men -- although the gods knew she couldn't ignore the smells wafting up out of their conjoined sleeping bags -- she closed her eyes again. One fluffy paw rested on his chest and it kneaded softly as she started to drift back off.

Surprisingly, (thankfully), the night passed uneventful. Seb went to wake Gaston after his own four hours were over, wanting to let the rest of the crew sleep as long as possible. He thought he'd been as silent as he could be, but as he entered, Emma sat up a little. She had been tucked in close beside Gaston, likely fueling from his heat source. She smiled softly and carefully crept from the sleeping bag, throwing on clothes and coat and boots before following him back out.

"Do we have to wake him?" She asked. "I know it's his turn. But if he can... you should both get to sleep. More, I mean."

"I've slept too much as it is. Go crawl back in bed. Keep him warm."

She shook her head. "I shouldn't. If he lets me cuddle with him much more and smiling sweetly at me I might just fall for him, and wouldn't that be so typical. To love the man who was mean to me in the beginning."

"Personally, considering the actual likelihood of us all getting out of here alive, I think a little cliche love might be what we all need. I... would kill to get to say goodbye."

Emma's gaze turned sad. "Please don't give up for the sake of us. I mean. You can make it back alive too, you know?"

His lips stretched into what might have been a sad smile. "You have a soft heart. But I'm afraid you're wrong here. But that's okay. I will have served my purpose. That's what matters to me."

Her eyes filled with tears and she searched for something to do. "I'm going to make breakfast," she said quietly. "And coffee. Something strong. Something to warm you all."

She set out to do just that, trying not to look at the strange Englishman. The strange man who loved someone and would never get to say goodbye.

Evelyn had come out while they spoke, in her human form. Arms wrapped around herself, she held the ends of her translucent shroud against her body as well as she could to keep them from flapping. The cold was deeper now than it had been last night, she thought; not significantly deeper, but noticeable. And that, she knew, would only continue.

For a moment she looked between the two of them, then she walked over to Emma, glad that the snow numbed her bare feet enough that she couldn't feel any pain from them. "Emma," she said, her voice quiet and musical, her gaze straightforward, "remember not to die out here. Even if Moran has already decided to. You have the same ten minutes Gaston has -- the stove can be left unattended when you go in to warm yourself."

”Are we going to have to spend the whole day like that? Shooting clips in ten minute increments? I'm not arguing. Just curious. There really is no daylight. And this... cold hurts. More than it did, anyway. I just... What are we doing? Shouldn't we go before winter happens? While we have food?"

"I'll catch a seal today. We'll feed from it. Use it's blubber to burn a small fire. Nothing big. But maybe we can get some heat. Have that family meal you want."

Emma tried to smile. She looked at Evelyn. "You should shift or go in too. You're hardly wearing anything. And Eli would kill me if he knew I was letting you forget about your own well being."

Evelyn frowned. She wanted to shift -- this was misery, and she hated the way her hair whipped around he face -- but she couldn't talk like that.

"Don't worry about me, Emma. I have chosen my lot. Today, to deal with the cold, what you and the others need to do while Moran and I are gone is build an igloo. It will be much warmer than those tents -- and, if you build wisely, you should be able to make it big enough to work and cook within. Everything needs to begin happening inside. I don't particularly care for what you humans do with your cameras," she tried brushing her hair behind her ears, but her fingers were already numb, "but I do need you alive. Whatever your group decides to do, stay or go, you will need to be able to prepare, and that requires shelter. Remember. Shelter first. Always."

In the blink of an eye, Evelyn was in her leopard form. The wind ruffled at her fur but she looked much more comfortable, even while staring up at Emma with a demanding look before turning to Moran to see if he was ready to leave.

Sebastian grabbed a few things. Gun, spear, something to fish with, then nodded at Evelyn.

When Emma caught her eyes again, she frowned, but her gaze spoke of her surrender. "Fine. Ten minutes. Just let me get the food on and the timer set. And... and please be careful. Both of you."

Sebastian again nodded, then held the gate open for Evelyn, following her out.

Emma set up the stove. Food would take a while to prepare. And it wasn't as if she could burn down trees. She had made both a pot of coffee and one of tea, slipping back into her tent with four copper lined mugs with the lids on. They would stay warm until the others woke.

She slipped into the sleeping bag, sitting up while she leaned against a heavy trunk, and sipped at her coffee. Thankful for the warmth of both the man beside her and the liquid in her system.

The wind had scoured away their tracks and most of the scent, but Evelyn was able to lead them out to the same place again. There was no sign of the polar bear, although she watched warily for it, and they found the breathing hole again without incident. Once there, she lay down on the ice and just sighed, waiting and looking up at Moran from time to time.

Eventually, she shifted back and sat up, wrapping her arms around herself. "If you get too cold," she said, "just lay down on the ice and push your face into my fur. Being on the ice won't chill you any more than the air will at this point... I can alert you if the creature arrives." She knew she was treating him a bit like a lost kitten, but it was how he seemed to her. Without waiting for a response, too cold for one, Evelyn slipped back into her fur.

--

Elijah and Gaston were both up when she came back in. "You," Elijah said, "are far too productive, Miss Taylor. You put the rest of us to shame. How are things?"

”I just wanted you all to get to sleep. He was patrolling all night. You and Alaric worked on the generator. Today we need to build a freaking igloo, which I think readers would love, actually. But I... I can't do much. Carry much. And I know you all... I mean. I'll likely die first. So I thought that I would be helpful while I can be."

She managed to make it through without fully crying, though her eyes pooled.

Alaric had woken when Elijah spoke, and rested his head on Elijah, letting him and Gaston choose which drink they wanted before taking the last mug.

"Breakfast should be ready in about thirty minutes."

--

Sebastian had nodded in response to Evelyn, fighting against the cold for as long as he could before leaning into her. She was warm. Her fur smelled nice. And she was soft. And for once he was grateful to not be allergic to cats.

He felt a bump beneath them before she'd roused him and he lifted his head. "Was that..."

Gaston ignored the drink entirely, in favor of just pulling Emma into his arms and holding her. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice warm. "Thank you for caring, for helping us, for making breakfast -- but you won't die, Miss Taylor. You won't die. Not here." He hugged her, careful not to be too tight, and kissed her hair.

Elijah looked down at his tea for a moment, then reached over and took Alaric by the hand. I love you, he thought, and won't let you die, either.

--

The leopard moved very cautiously as she got to her feet; every movement was precise and graceful, deadly, as she took care not to alert the seal under them to her presence. She trusted Moran to do the same, then hunched down, ready to spring. Once the seal showed its head, Moran could shoot it or spear it, but if it started to get away under the ice, if it didn't immediately die, she intended to dive in and catch it. Perhaps it was a terrible idea -- she knew she'd get very, very cold -- but it would be worth it. They would not waste a life, and the humans needed every scrap of meat, fat, and skin they could get their hands on. The fire Moran had mentioned would even warm the igloo some...

It would be worth it.

Emma looked up at him and tried to smile, but the expression trembled a little. "It's okay, Gaston. You kinda expected that I wouldn't make it out here from the very beginning. I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time about your instinct." She stretched to kiss his forehead, this time managing a tiny smile.

Alaric's heart broke for both of them. The gunman, it seemed, had grown fond of her. But her honesty was the most overwhelming. He would never admit it aloud. But she seemed the least likely, strictly off her stature and reserve on material for her body to feed off itself, to survive through all of this. But to actually consider watching her die of starvation and from freezing to death?

He looked at Elijah and kissed the back of his love's hand. I love you, too.

--

Sebastian grabbed the spear. If nothing else, if the seal started to slip under, it would be something to grab on to.

He was silent as he watched Evelyn watch the seal beneath the ice. He could see the feline in her ready for the attack. He could see how dangerous she was. And he found a new sense of respect for her -- which was something, since he trusted her enough to let her be a source of protection for his crew.

When the seal emerged, he waited, waited for it to be far enough out that he had a better shot. That slipping back in wouldn't be automatic. He waited. And finally, he jabbed.

He struck home and watched as the spear sunk deep within the flesh. Then Sebastian hung on. The weight of the animal trying to retreat began to pull against him, dragging him across the ice despite his cleats. "Fuck," he muttered, looking at Evelyn. "I can't shoot. I can't let go. Just... get it to stop fighting. Help me."

Holding off had been difficult, but without him being in danger of going in yet and without him asking for help, the cat had held still. As soon as he began to say help me, though, she sprang. There was a splash, a sickening crunch sound, and the seal went limp and still, the cat's jaws buried at the base of its skull.

Everything seemed suddenly still. The cat's silvery eyes turned to him, seawater and seal blood dripped down her face, and for a moment there seemed to be nothing of importance other than the hunt, the kill, and the silence on the ice. Then, ears going back, she started backing away from the hole, working with him to pull the seal out. It was going to be a long, slow, slippery process, but at least they'd both be working so hard, freezing wouldn't be possible.

--

"Hush," Gaston said softly. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her hair. "We'll be alright. All of us. Today, we build an igloo. Tonight, we'll be warmer than ever." Opening his eyes, he looked at Elijah, who nodded.

"It will definitely help, and will buy us time to -- decide. Prepare."

"Indeed." Gaston hugged her once more, then carefully got up and finished dressing. "I'll be back. Forgive me, I need to make my check."

Once he'd left, she wrapped her arms around herself and smiled, her expression seeming far more cheerful than what she felt inside. She'd never understood all those things she'd read about being lonely and smiling through it, but as she watched him leave the tent, she thought she got it. He wasn't hers. He was kind and warm and friendly enough. He was handsome. But he wasn't hers. And he never would be.

He was doing his job. Trying to keep them alive. And that started by making them believe they were going to live.

Emma sipped at her coffee while the other two looked at each other and she pulled the sleeping bag higher up around her, trying to use any of his residual heat it held to warm away her silly, pathetic sadness.

"So," Alaric said, voicing the question for Emma's sake more than his own, "what do we need to make the igloo. Tell us exactly what we'll have to do. We can start after breakfast."

--

Sebastian had been grateful for her, and tugging that seal was no easy quest. He got the material worked under the beast eventually, however, wrapping and tying off the bottom end of it to keep it in a sort of cocoon and keeping the seal from slipping out. "Take a moment to rest and breathe. The journey back will be a long one. When you're ready, we'll go."

By the time Sebastian and Evelyn got back with the seal, which had to be almost three hundred pounds, construction on the igloo was well underway. One of the tents had been disassembled to make space for it and there were tracks and trails in the snow from where they had gone out to cut chunks of compacted snow from outside the perimeter. It had come surprisingly far, Evelyn thought, and it looked big and sturdy, beautifully so. Everyone was sitting down eating and looking tired, and she sighed at the thought of how good it was going to feel to just lay down and do nothing for a while. They had taken turns dragging the seal, but even so...

Elijah looked up and beamed when he saw them return with a large cocooned lump. He pushed himself to his feet and went out to them. "There's hot soup, Moran. Go get some, get off your leg. I'll bring it the rest of the way." Elijah held his hand out to take the end of the cocoon, gratitude and warmth in his eyes and his smile.

They had all worked their tails off to get the igloo to how it was, planning to sleep there that night. It was starting to form shape and all the boys (and girl) didn't waste much time socializing. But then it was lunch time and Kol took over making them all something light to get them through the rest of the "day."

All that being said, though, he couldn't help the relief he felt when he saw that Moran and Evelyn were actually hauling something back.

Sebastian nodded at Elijah's suggestion and went over to sit, catching Gaston's gaze. "Any trouble today?"

The rest of them kept working through lunch, even though Emma had wanted family meal times. This was an exception and there wasn't much time before it turned frigid again. Though Emma did run over and wrap her arms around the cat's neck. "My tent is still up. Go lay on my sleeping bag. Be warm and comfortable for a while. You've worked enough."

Evelyn caught Emma's hand in her sharp teeth and gave a small, careful, demanding tug to show that she would only go into the tent if Emma went with her.

"No trouble," Gaston said, and gave Sebastian food and water. "Niklaus may I have the --"

Nik tossed him the medical kit and he caught it, then looked at Sebastian. "Have you taken your antibiotics today? Put your foot on my lap, I'll check your leg while you eat."

“But I need to help..." the argument wasn't much, and Emma allowed herself to be tugged in the direction of the tent and immediately felt the warmth. She smiled and pet Evelyn gently, lovingly. Evelyn would be good for Eli. She'd already been with him this long. "Are you okay? Sorry. I know you can't answer. And you shouldn't shift. At least not before you're good and warm. I just. Worry, I guess."

"When did I become the one being given orders," he teased lightly, though did as he was told. "Took antibiotics last night before bed." How long ago had that been? Didn't matter. He was fine. "Igloo looks good. Family camping now? Or just one giant opportunity for group sex to stay warm."

”Group sex, of course. Stay. I'll be back." He went and got the antibiotics and gave Sebastian his dose. "Take it right now, in front of me, sir." Please.

The sniper lifted a brow and stared pointedly at Gaston. But when he saw the 'please' in the other man's stare, he consented. "You all act like I'm actively avoiding it. But if you all are going to eat me later, it might be good that I'm not toxic."

It sounded like a joke.

It wasn't.

"Looks like this might get finished tonight. When was the last time anybody checked the markers on the back side? I assume you didn't leave the crew while we were gone?"

“I did not," he said, and once he'd seen Moran take the antibiotics, he got to work checking his leg. He was quicker than Elijah, but just as thorough. "You... really need to take it easy for a few days. Hauling that seal doesn't seem to have... done any good by your stitches."

“Take it... you're bloody joking, right? Listen, LeFevre. I appreciate your concern, but there is no time to take it easy. Thanks to the cat, we seem to have one less person to worry quite so much about. Because I believe her only concern is the girl. But we also have another mouth to feed when we were already not going to have enough food to get us through. So. Tell me when exactly am I supposed to take it easy?"

“Now. Now is when you are supposed to take it easy." Gaston's eyes sharpened, a glimpse of his more dangerous side showing, although he still tried to keep it under wraps. "You killed a seal. We have plenty of food. Shelter is going up. You have to let your leg heal, because if doesn't? We lose you. If you get an infection? They can't eat you, and I suspect you're hell-bent on making sure they do.  Let Elijah worry about the plans, the numbers, the amount of food. You have done something amazing in bringing us the seal -- and now it is time for you to rest."

”Mind your tone, LeFevre." Sebastian spoke quietly, his own tone silky and dangerous. Something he'd picked up from Jim along the way. "I'll rest for a bit, fine. But while I'm here you can make a full round marker check."

The problem with telling Sebastian Moran when to rest, was Jim rarely allowed him the luxury to do so unless he was on the brink of death. And he still felt relatively well. Besides the pain that had crept up to his thigh.

Fucking wolf.

"Elijah is one man. He is one civilian. Do not put too much weight on his shoulders. He will try to carry it all."

For a moment it looked like Gaston was going to immediately obey, but when he finished getting Moran's pant-leg back down, he leaned in closer.

"Moran, I love you like a brother and I would follow you to the end of the earth, but ask yourself one question: Who? Who do you think really hired me? If you think it was the BBC that hunted me down and chose me, you are wrong. If you think it was the Mikaelsons, or Saltzman -- why do you think I am really here?" He stood up and put the kit away.

"I'll go check the markers."

His first thought was Montparnasse. If Gaston cared so much about Sebastian's survival, about his well-being it had to be Montparnasse. But... but Montparnasse hadn't known Sebastian was even in the arctic circle until he'd called.

Once Gaston had stood to go check, Sebastian sat there in silence, staring into the distance. Thinking.

Thinking about why Jim would have hired someone else. Someone to watch over Sebastian. What had the sniper done to cause Jim to believe Sebastian couldn't handle himself. The others, considering the numbers, it made sense to have a two person team. Was that all it had been? Or did Jim doubt him?

Why did Jim doubt him.?

Kol nudged Niklaus lightly as they went for more snow. "He looks like he’s seen a ghost. Think we should tell him it was just your white ass?"

“Moran!" Nik called. "Apparently, my ass is quite an elegant, lily-white apparition. If you've seen it and it frightened you, I apologize. However, if you're going to continue sitting still, you ought to go into the tent, else you'll catch your death."

”The next person who tells me what to do or how to tend to myself is getting shot," Sebastian growled, losing his humor. It didn't matter that everybody seemed to be in better moods than yesterday. He, apparently, wasn't willing to suddenly be part of the jubilation.

Kol inhaled as if he were about to say something.

"Kol, I will shoot you for the fun of it. Do not test me."

The youngest Mikaelson closed his mouth again and his eyes went wide. He looked at Nik and just shrugged the threat away, moving on toward the gate.

The girls were in the tent and Sebastian didn't feel like bothering them. In any case. He wanted to eat in peace, and he was still catching up and cooling off from hauling that seal. Eventually, though, he wandered into the tent and laid down, not speaking to either woman.

Once in the tent, Evelyn flopped down and gave herself a thorough grooming before changing back into her human form. She crawled into the sleeping bag with Emma and snuggled up against her.

"Tell me how you are."

[mavwrekmarketing]

Ive been struggling since the election, and now since inauguration, with two questions: First, why does this feel worse than its ever felt before? Second, how can I stop feeling this way?

Why does this feel so awful?

I read a lot of conservative media, and it tells me that Im a sore loser and a snowflake, and everyone I know needs a safe space. We libtards just keep crying and crying and cant get over it.

Well it is true that everyone I know is in terrible pain about this election and now the actions of our 45th president. And it is true, judging from opinion polls, that the 40 to 45 percent of the people who support the president support him just as strongly today as they did two weeks ago despite the travel ban, despite the DeVos nomination, despite the multiple threats issued to our allies. (Many of us fear they support him not despite these things but because of them).

I can live within a framework of such a profound difference of worldview Ive lived through it before. This time, however, it is different. Every comment I see made by those of us terrified by our new president and what he means for the country is met by an equal and opposite comment from those enthralled by the current White House occupant. Those equal and opposite responses take joy in the pain of those on the left. Our national dialogue could now be summed up by Lisa Simpson saying, I am desperately unhappy, and Nelson Muntz pointing and laughing.

A marriage unraveling

Our country, at least politically, has been undergoing a trial separation for nearly 20 years. I would root it in the impeachment of Bill Clinton. My thoughtful conservative friends would tell me Im wrong and the root is the Robert Bork nomination hearings. Both sides would describe the beginning of the separation in basically the same way: this was the point when I realized the other side was in it just to win and had thrown all propriety, all history, all common bond out the window. This is when I realized the other side considered me the enemy.

For at least two decades (three if you want to begin with Bork), we have fought each other pretty intensely, thought ill of each other, said nasty things about each other in public and in private, and (likely most importantly) weve spent less and less time together. If you were a progressive liberal and you could, you likely moved to the nearest urban area. Maybe you even packed your bags and made your way to California (there are a lot more of you here than when I first got here 20 years ago). If you were a conservative, you tended to congregate with other conservatives, either in suburbs, exurbs, rural areas, or the few conservative cities (generally in the South and Southwest).

We chose different neighborhoods, different careers, different friends. The division between us became regional, local, and increasingly racial and gendered.

But we all agreed on one thing: we loved the kid. We have maintained some bond of contact because we love this country. We each have our own way of showing it you conservatives (Ill pretend any of you are actually reading this) talk often of its beauty and its liberty, that it is a shining city on a hill and the land of opportunity. We, in contrast, talk of its inexorable march toward justice and its magnificent history of taking those who rise up and demand their freedom and, eventually, embracing them and making them part of the national character.

Its when the kid doesnt live up to our expectations that we have our fiercest fights.

You think the kid is weak, ineffectual, a baby killer, overly tolerant of the wrong element, riddled with crime and racial divisions that only get worse. You think its factories are falling apart, its competitive edge gone. And you think thats because weve been overly permissive parents.

We think the kid is sometimes an entitled bully; that it uses its power unwisely; that it picks on the weakest here and abroad and that it should instead use its power to protect them and help them up. We think the kid has an incredible capacity for charity and kindness and equality, but youve filled its head with suspicion and superstition and, yes, racism and misogyny.

Underlying this disagreement, though in almost everyone I know has been a belief that eventually we would reconcile. Eventually, our mutual love of the kid would bring us back together. Rushing into each others arms, wed embrace and remember that we love our country, love each other, that we are one people, that the music would swell, and wed live happily ever after. Like the end of La La Land, for 20 years weve dreamed of a world where it all works out.

Pictured Above (L to R): Not the Best Picture of 2016. Its still pretty great! But come on, people! Moonlight!

When in the course of human events

Why am I so sad? Why is everyone I know so sad? Because we still loved you, you jerks. We still wanted to share this country with you, in all of its abundance and glory. We still wanted to do great things together with you to send men and women to Mars, to power our industry through renewable energy, to make peace in the Middle East. We have believed that as a nation, we were on a path a long, inevitable arc bending toward justice and that we were walking down that path with you. And 2016 has killed that ember of hope for many of us. We now see and understand that this trial separation is not a trial for you. It never was. You hate us and you dont want to be with us anymore. More importantly, you will do anything you can to have the kid and keep the kid all to yourselves. And that realization is painful.

This realization one we werent ready for after Florida in 2000 and one that was delayed by our unity after 9/11 requires mourning and processing. Sure, it may even require some crying. But if you think thats the end of the story, wow, have you misunderstood our mutual history.

By electing Donald J. Trump, you have asked us for a divorce. Really, youve demanded it. Why do I say that?

You told us you cared about religious liberty. And then you elected a guy who has pledged to stomp on the religious liberty of our friends and neighbors.

You told us you cared about free markets and integrity. And then you elected a guy who has undisclosed business ties to God-knows-whom and is clearly using the power of his office to alter the free market. Hes literally tanked stock prices of companies with tweets! This is so counter to everything you ever said you wanted, we cant quite wrap our heads around it.

You told us you were humiliated by Bill Clinton getting a blow job in the White House and that it demeaned our country. Then you elected a guy who bragged about grabbing women by the pussy and who was accused of rape by his ex-wife. We cant comprehend this.

You told us you cared about the military and its traditions and that we were awful parents because we didnt care enough. And then you elected a guy who disparaged prisoners of war (a group so hallowed in this country, theres a special flag) and who regularly said our military is a disaster.

You told us that you are suspicious of the imperial presidency and executive actions unchecked by congress. This was the unforgivable sin of that Obama guy we loved so much. And then you elected a guy who is wreaking havoc with executive actions that are poorly constructed and poorly communicated. In response to the chaos of his travel ban order, his approval ratings havent budged among conservatives.

You told us that it was all about states rights and municipalities ability to make their own decisions. Youve been telling us that since you guys were Democrats (under Jefferson) and we were Federalists (under Adams); the federal authority is too great and the states must have autonomy, you said! And then you elected a guy who declares he might send the national guard into one of our great metropolises, threatens to defund states that dont support his immigration policies, and declares he will pull federal funding from a university because it didnt allow some alt-right pipsqueak to speak (it did, but thats not the topic for this conversation).

You spent years venerating Ronald Reagan, who called the Soviets the evil empire and particularly had a big problem with the KGB and what it did to its people. He also spoke quite a lot about tearing down walls and not building them. And then you elect a guy who can do nothing but praise the former KGB agent heading Russia, who says hes going to build a wall, and who appears to have deep and shady connections into Russia. Or maybe he doesnt! But you seem unconcerned with even the possibility.

You elected him, and now that hes acting this way, youre still supporting him! We expected truly, deep down, no lie that once he began to behave like the bullying emperor we suspected he would be, the sort you always accused Obama of being, you would begin to pull your support. We so wanted to believe it. But his approval rating is 89% among Republicans. You like how hes acting. And from this we can only conclude

You hate us now more than you love the kid.

You hate us now more than you love your own beliefs and values.

You hate us so much that you would side with Russia, you would abandon your principles, you would do anything to defeat us and watch us roil.

We can only conclude that it is precisely our unhappiness with the president that makes you happy. And if that is the case, you dont dream of ever working with us. You dont dream of ever reconciling. You dream of defeating us. You dream of humiliating us.

What do we do now?

In any divorce, you have a set of choices. One of them, of course, is to fake your own death and run away to another country. That is not an option I believe we should contemplate.

Generally, people have amicable divorces or contested divorces. When amicable, they seek counsel that mediates disputes and looks for win-win solutions. When contested, they seek leg-breaking lawyers who will do everything to maximize the outcome for their client, including seeking sole custody.

It is not an option for us to go our separate ways completely because we share the kid. Thus, our previous hopes for reconciliation. Lately, I think we have hoped that a win-win, mediated, shared custody approach was possible if we were to end this marriage. What is clear now is that for years the Republicans have been making use of the kind of leg-breaking, stop-at-nothing attorneys we have been loathe to employ. Theyve been kicking our asses in court while we kept hoping we could work this out.

No more.

So now a custody battle

The election of 2016 could have been a fluke. A goof. An accident. No one thought he would win. It could have even brought us together. If the #NeverTrump movement on your side (Im going to go back to pretending any Republicans are reading this) had taken blossom and you bounced this clown upon his inauguration, I can promise you, we would have come running into your arms. It would have been a great moment of reconciliation. You cannot (apparently) imagine how much we would have loved the Republican party if it ejected this unfit yahoo. A new era of compromise would have been possible. We could have worked with Pence and Ryan.

Instead, you have revealed that you would rather win than care for the kid we both love. So now is when it turns really ugly.

You think were snowflakes? You think were just going to give up and let you take the country away? Thats incredible.

There are some numbskulls on the left talking about secession. As Sam Houston of Texas said on the matter in the 1860s, The federal Constitution, the federal Government, and its starry flag are glorious heritages bequeathed to the South and all sections of our common country by the valor and patriotism of Washington, and all the brave revolutionary soldiers, who fought for and won American independence. This is our country and our government and there is not a chance in hell were going to let you have it by leaving even if that were legally possible (which it isnt, numbskulls).

Were the ones who have marched for this country. Were the ones who have taken blows to the head, been killed, hit with water hoses and blasted with water cannons, fought and bled to protect this country from the likes of its current president. If you think were snowflakes, you better prepare for the blizzard coming your way.

When you see us out in the streets, thats not a bunch of liberals crying. Those arent melting snowflakes who need a hug and a safe space. Thats the inevitable march of some people who loved you and are now very, very pissed off.

Were going to organize every last living voter in every neighborhood in this country. Were taking you to the ballot box.

Were going to be out in the streets opposing every last thing you do from now until we can unwind the coil you have around this countrys throat. We will confront you with the truth about what youre doing to this country and we will not relent.

Were going to hire the nastiest, toughest, smartest, leg-breakinest lawyers in the country. Were taking you to court.

To my countrymen and women with broken hearts…

This is a terribly sad time for us. And now we have to let go of one kind of hope and take hold of another.

Let us recognize, there are two groups who gave this lecherous villain and his malevolent brood the keys to the White House:

First, there is a group of our countrymen who hate us. They are the rank and file of the Republican Party, and they want to destroy us. They will not rest until they take every lever of power away from us, annihilating any compromise in the government. They can show this isnt true at any time through their actions and have failed to do so over and over.

Second, there is a group of our fellow citizens who are scared, hurt, and angry. They feel abandoned by the government both Democrat and Republican and theyve made common cause with these thugs because they hope it will bring them jobs and safety.

Its time that we put aside reconciliation with the former and fight them tooth and nail on behalf of ourselves and the latter.

The Republicans who have given themselves over to hatred will laugh at us. They will mock us. And eventually, they will lose. It will start two years from now at mid-terms, then four years, then six.

We could have had a divorce with shared custody. Not anymore. Were taking the kid.

They have undone our desire to share this country with them. They have dismantled our liberal desire to be reasonable and see their side of things. They have done it by endangering our children and our future. They have done it by putting their anger at us ahead of their professed love of country, and that is the one thing we can never forgive.

(This piece originally appeared on Medium.)

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