#just a couple messages a day with the normal pleasantries about our days and that’s it

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Coming Down (Ethan x MC)

Summary: They break up. Dassit

A/N: I’ve been tired of this imposter Ethan, and the back of forth nature of his romance route for the entirety of book 3, so I wrote this.

Warnings: None

Title Inspo

~v~

Naomi’s fingernails tap impatiently against her leg as the shrill ring of her cell phone rings at her ear. It rings 5 long times before she’s sent to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I’m sorry for not answering your phone call, but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”

“Ethan, it’s me...again. I haven’t heard from you in,” lifting her wrist, Naomi checks the time on her watch, “wow, in over 24 hours. I’ve been calling and calling, to no avail, and you just aren’t responding.”

The news of Ethan getting hit with a malpractice lawsuit hit her like a freight train. As soon as things started to feel good again, as soon as the diagnostics team started to find its rhythm with two new physicians, this torpedoes any chance of normalcy she could ever experience.

“If you could give me a call back and let me hear the sound of your voice, that’d be great. Bye.”

There’s a lot more that she wants to say, but she’s been given a limited window of time so Naomi hangs up.

Switching tactics, Naomi opens up her messages, and scrolls to her thread with Ethan.

Naomi: Hi

Naomi: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.

Naomi: Can you at least reply, telling me to leave you alone?

Naomi: At this point, I’d settle for at least knowing if you’re alive.

She waits a few minutes, and when she gets no response, she shoves her phone into the pocket of her white coat. Anxiousness and worry pools in the pit of her stomach, and the only thing she can think about is Ethan’s well being. And this situation doesn’t bode well because Naomi is still in the middle of her shift.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of quiet chatter as the door to the diagnostics team’s office opens and in walks Tobias and Harper. Their conversation is cut short once they notice the youngest member of the team.

“Hi, Naomi,” Tobias greets, an easygoing smile adorning his face. “What’s up?”

She wishes she could feel as casual as he looks, because every part of her body is twisted inside out and turned upside down.

“Have either of you talked to Ethan today?” Naomi asks, skipping the pleasantries.

“I spoke to him yesterday just to gauge how he was handling the malpractice suit,” Tobias answers. “Obviously, the conversation didn’t last long because he and I rarely interact outside of these four walls, but he seems…” he trails off when he notices Naomi’s face fall. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

Any other time, Naomi would be ecstatic to hear about Tobias extending an olive branch, and Ethan actually accepting the support, but today isn’t that day. She’s been trying to get in touch with him all day with no success, but he answers a phone call from his sworn enemy?

“I haven’t heard from Ethan today, so I’m at least glad to know he’s breathing,” Naomi says, her voice tight.

Too caught up in her own pity party, Naomi misses the way Tobias and Harper exchange worried glances. The team has been through enough the past few months, the last thing they need is romantic friction between Ethan and Naomi seeping into the office.

“Maybe he’s turned his phone off since then?” Tobias suggests. “Times like this can force you into an introspective mood, and he’s probably going technology free.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. She appreciates Tobias’s effort to satiate her foul mood, but she can’t think of a single excuse short of death that could justify Ethan’s behavior.

She stands, dusting off her coat and straightening it out. “Thanks. I’m going to get some lab work done on our patient, page me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Without another word, Naomi exits the office.

Working helps slightly. For an hour or so, Naomi is successful in turning off her brain and focusing diligently on work. She manages to not think about Ethan at all.

Until she hears his name brought up in conversation. She’s strolling towards the nurse's station when she sees Sarah and another nurse, Ronnie huddled in a corner.

“Sounds like Dr. Ramsey’s not as perfect as everyone thinks, huh?”

“Screwing up a standard tracheotomy that way? Frankly, I’m just surprised it took the patient this long to sue!”

Naomi slows her steps before she stops walking all together. The nurses are so engrossed in their conversation, they don’t even notice her.

“I heard from Marlene that the patient wouldn’t have even needed a trach if they hadn’t dosed her wrong in the first place,” Sarah adds in an excited whisper.

“Seriously? That’s next level…”

Her first instinct is to stop this, to tell them to stop talking, the urge to protect Ethan still as strong as it’s always been.

But she stops herself from doing that. Because why should she? Why should she put forth the effort to defend the honor and reputation of a man that doesn’t even have the decency to answer her phone calls?

And just like that, she’s plunged back into her flurry of conflicting emotions: worry, fear, annoyance, and most of all, anger. The emotions war inside her, all fighting for dominance, and she hasn’t felt like this since her intern year when he left to go to South America without any sort of goodbye or correspondence.

That wasn’t a good period in her life. Naomi can still feel the cold grip of anxiety that plagued her chest when she came into work one day and he was nowhere to be seen. She heard through a LVN that he left before confirming it with Naveen. She can still taste the saltiness of the tears she shed after leaving her 5th unanswered voicemail. Experiencing such a high of beating her ethics trial and getting picked for the diagnostic team,  and the low of him leaving in that short amount of time left her spiraling and isolated, and it took entirely too much time clawing herself out of that dark place.

Turning on her heel, Naomi speed walks in the other direction, her original plan long forgotten. The hospital passes her by in a blur as her legs move, the rest of her body and brain moving on autopilot.

She doesn’t stop moving until she’s in front of the residents’ lounge. She spots Aurora, Bryce, and Sienna sitting at a table.

“Naomi, come join us!” Sienna exclaims. “We’re going to make cappuccinos with this fancy machine.”

“I’ll have to take a raincheck on that,” Naomi says. She turns to Bryce. “Can I borrow your car keys please?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a couple errands to run and I don’t feel like taking the train. I’ll bring it back with a full tank of gas and everything.”

“I’m not gonna nitpick you about gas, Omi.” Bryce’s warm gaze sweeps across Naomi’s face, studying her. If he notices anything wrong with her, which he probably does because Bryce is a lot more perceptive than he gives himself credit for, he thankfully doesn’t mention it. He reaches into the pocket of his mint green scrub pants and pulls out his keys. He tosses the keys to Naomi with a wink, and she catches them mid air.

“I keep a shovel in the trunk in case you need to bury a body.”

Whether he realizes what is going on with her, or if he just cracked a joke to lighten the mood, Naomi is grateful either way.

~v~

Naomi spends an hour driving around Boston, people watching and attempting to collect her thoughts before she ends up in Back Bay at Ethan’s apartment complex. She didn’t want to go to his house in her previous state, guns blazing and emotions all over her place.

Even on the ride on the elevator up to his unit, her stomach is in knots and her heart beats faster than normal. She hasn’t been this nervous about seeing Ethan in a long time, and it dawns on her just how fucked this entire situation is. Why should she be nervous to talk to the man who claims to want to be with her?

Steeling her nerves, Naomi issues three sharp knocks to Ethan’s front door. Approximately 45 seconds pass before the door opens.

“Naomi!” Ethan’s eyes widen when he sees her standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to let me in, or should we have this conversation in the hallway?” Naomi asks. Ethan steps aside, widening the door so Naomi can enter. “Thank you.”

The apartment is stale, like Ethan hasn’t opened the windows in a few days. He looks disheveled, the bags under his eyes are extremely pronounced like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

For lack of a better word, Ethan is a mess. And she wants nothing more than to just...wrap her arms around him and make everything better. But she doesn’t. She keeps her distance.

Ethan shuts the door before turning back to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No.”

“Well let’s sit down.”

“No, I think I’d rather stand because I don’t plan on being here long.”

The coldness stuns Ethan. Naomi almost seems indifferent towards him, something he’s never experienced before. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t bother greeting him warmly, no hug or kiss, no excitement in her voice, nothing.

“I needed to see with my own two eyes that you were alive and well,” Naomi starts. “Because you’ve gone radio silent on me. I know you’ve seen me calling and texting. Your phone works just fine because you picked up a call from Tobias of all people.”

He averts his gaze, ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, I–”

She holds up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. Naomi doesn’t believe for one second that he’s apologizing due to actual remorse. “I have spent the entire day wracked with intense worry. I feel like I’ve been turned upside down, and I could barely focus on work. Every time I thought I could be productive, something or someone was there to remind me of you. And then I’d spend more time ruminating over you and your situation, and the fact that you’re ignoring me, and then I’d feel like absolute shit. And earlier today, as I listened to the nurses gossip about you, I realized that this feels so much like your two month sabbatical to the Amazon, and our relationship hasn’t changed at all since then.”

“That’s not true,” Ethan argues.

“It is,” Naomi insists. “One step forward doesn’t mean anything if we end up taking two steps back immediately afterwards. A year and a half later, you’re still holding me at arms length, keeping yourself closed off, ignoring my calls.”

“I don’t mean to do this, to be this way.”

“But you continue to do it, so at this point you have to see it’s a pattern. You won’t even open up and talk to me about this lawsuit that’s being waged against you.”

“I just don’t want you getting needlessly involved.”

“While it’s a noble excuse, it’s complete and utter bullshit. If you think you’re doing something to save my reputation, remember nothing you do will ever top me almost losing my medical license my intern year, and then having a resident face a malpractice lawsuit a few months later. So come on, give me another excuse.”

“I’m doing this for you!”

“How? How could this possibly be for me?”

“Everything I touch becomes tainted!” Ethan snaps. “Because there is something wrong, in which everyone arounds me leaves or dies, or everything falls apart. I don’t have control or autonomy over anything, so yes, the one precious thing in my life, I’m too scared to touch.”

“But I have been right here with you! I was right here in this exact same spot when we worked on Naveen’s case. I sat by your side while we watched over Dolores’s son. I was there when they wheeled your mother into the hospital, and when you took her to rehab. Time and time again, I’ve proven to you that my loyalty is steadfast, and not once have I ever wavered, so you don’t get to stand here and punish me for some unrealized fear. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a passenger in this relationship, if you can even call it that.”

That’s what gives him pause. “Of course this is a relationship.”

“This isn’t a relationship, I am just a woman you sleep with. Occasionally you open up to me, we share a cute moment and promises, and then you clam up and up goes the barriers, and it starts all over again. And every single time, we’re a little bit deeper into this thing we’re in. I’ve shared more, I’ve let myself be more vulnerable with you, emotionally and physically, I’ve deluded myself into thinking ‘This time it’s the real thing,’. And I’m afraid that this is going to be our reality. One day I wake up, 3 years in, tentatively living with you, trying to settle into the pieces of a life I’ve scrounged up with you, and you do this again.”

“I don’t speak on it, and I don’t like to because I try to keep it all together, but you don’t understand the toll it takes on me every time we do this back and forth. I was a train wreck when you quit. I had the trial looming over my head, Landry, a guy I considered one of my closest friends betrayed me in the worst possible way, you weren’t the only person scared of losing Naveen, and I couldn’t even verbalize any of it to you because you slammed a door in my face when I tried to bring it up, and then you left me. And then you did it again, and I spent two months worried that you might not even come home because you could contract the deadly disease you were off fighting. And then you go on national television declaring your relationship status, and you made promises to me on my deathbed that led nowhere, and then finally we make some headway in Hawaii and establish what we have going on, and then I come home to this. So while you say one thing to me, time and time again, your actions say otherwise. It’s clear I’m not a priority.” 

This conversation triggers Ethan’s fight or flight response. He doesn’t know where this conversation is headed, but he’s smart enough to know it’s nowhere good.

“Naomi, what are you saying? Spell it out to me like I’m a preschooler.”

“I think we need a break,” Naomi says in one breath, afraid she’ll break if she prolongs this any further. The six words leave a sour taste in her mouth that she has to choke back.

“No,” Ethan’s tone is gruff, and the seriousness almost startled Naomi. “No, we’re not breaking up.”

“From where I’m standing, we already have,” Naomi retorts. “I’m just confirming it.”

Ethan takes one long stride towards Naomi, but she takes a step back. “Look, I am a daft asshole to put it mildly, and I know I have a lot of work to do, but this is by no means a reason for us to break up.” He takes another step forward, and now Naomi is backed up against the door. He tugs her forward, wrapping his arms around her. “I am sorry. I know the words probably sound hollow, but trust me when I say I mean it. I’ll fix this, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re the only person I want, the only one I’ll ever want, and I’m not losing you. Not now, not ever.”

Through this right embrace, Naomi can feel just how rapidly his heart is beating. He’s scared.

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she’s too drained to even wipe it away. “This is reactionary. You’re saying all of this because you’re panicked, but if you meant any of what you just said, it wouldn’t take the threat of a breakup in order to want to change things.”

“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize what a fool I’ve been,” Ethan says. He refuses to let go of her, his arms still wrapped so tightly around her petite frame, he almost worries about crushing her.

“I agree.” What does that even mean? She gives him nothing more than that, and Ethan is left to stew in his own doubt and worry. Naomi breaks free of his embrace and presses a palm to his chest, signaling him to give her some space. “But I still think we need some space.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

It becomes hard to breathe. When Ethan woke up this morning, the last thing he expected was Naomi to dump him. “What can I do? Tell me how to fix this. Do you want consistency? Done, I’ll talk to you every single day, multiple times a day. Transparency? Sit down right now, and I’ll explain this entire lawsuit top to bottom. You want proof that I’m never going to up and leave again, you can take my fucking passport. Naomi, I don’t care what I have to do, I will do it, but I will not accept you walking out of that door.”

Naomi inhales deeply, trying to stop a full son from bursting out of her chest. He’s saying all the right things, but at the wrong time. It’s too late now. “I’ve warred with myself all day about this decision. You’re clearly not in the right space to sustain a healthy relationship, and that’s fine. I just need to remove myself from the situation, for my own health and well-being. And I think you need to do the same.”

“So...what? This is it? It’s over?”

“Let’s be honest Ethan, you never gave us the opportunity to begin.” She wants to touch him so badly, reach out a run her hand through his hair or stroke his beard one more time. It takes everything in her to not. “You’re a great doctor, one of the best ones I know, so I really hope you beat this entire lawsuit and I get to see you back at Edenbrook. Take care of yourself, Ethan.

Ethan shakes his head in denial. He refuses to let things end like this, and for her to give him the same cool professionalism she extends to every other coworker.

“Naomi, wait–”

She’s out of his apartment before he can convince her to stay. It doesn’t register until he hears the soft click of her door shutting that she’s actually gone. And another minute passes before the gravity of the situation finally dawns on him.

For the first time in a long time, he’s truly alone.

~v~

Tags: @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers @missmiimiie @stateofgracious @mooons-isabelle @doilooklikeiknow

[soft-for-them]

a cup of tea for the handsome man ♡ geordi la forge x reader

anon: OKAY concept: Geordi had a failed valentines date, and reader (who crushes hard) is like “bruh hang out with MEEE” a la Taylor swifts “you belong with me”

gender neutral reader, geordi ain’t straight,

gif doesn’t really match but it’s cute ok! not proof read.

‘Maybe you can accompany my friend Geordi La Forge today.’ Data bluntly asks as you both walk down a stone covered street.

‘Data, I swear to the stars, stop!’ you whine to your android friend who currently still wears his yellow dress uniform despite it being shore leave.

‘I am only asking because Geordi seems to be by himself.’ Data holds up the cat carrier that he holds, wiggling his finger to Spot, ‘Please calm down Spot.’

You are Lieutenant (Y/n) (l/n), though most people call you (y/n) and ever since you have met Data you have both been found friends. You are interested in robotics and androids, so the friendship came naturally.

However, Data doesn’t have many out of work friends. He mostly hangs around you, Spot and a very handsome man by the name of Geordi La Forge.

‘Just because I’m your friend does not mean I’m automatically his, Data.’ You tug at the draw strings of your oversized hoodie straighten the out strings.

‘Yes, but you are technically mutuals for you both have me as your friend.’ Data looks at you with a blank stare, ‘And you are normally alone so you need another friend.’

If you haven’t been friends with the yellow tinted man then you would have told him off.

It is somewhat true; you do spend a lot of time in engineering and most of your really good friends are stationed on different ships. But you want to spend you shore leave on earth doing something fun, not awkwardly trying to befriend Geordi La Forge, a man you have fancied for quite a while.

If Data has some more common sense the he would see your heart eyes towards his dear friend but he doesn’t; all he sees is a hermit engineer who needs a buddy whilst Data isn’t around.

‘Data, why has this come on? I’m alone most of the time!’ you have plans and it doesn’t involve trying not to out your crush to a clueless Geordi or Data.

‘I just do not want my friends be lonely.’

Data’s eyebrows frown as you two stop in front of a veterinary practice.

‘Just because me and Geordi will be alone when you take Spot to get her check-up doesn’t mean we will be lonely.’

‘But you will both be alone.’ he deliberates.

‘We will be fine Data.’ You place a hand on your friend’s arm, ‘If you want, we can all meet up after Spot’s check up and I can officially meet Geordi, ok?’

‘I would like that very much (y/n).’ Data sincerely smiles.

He nods his head and then walks into the small vets.

 You shake you head in amusement at your dear friend’s worry as you begin walking down the street.

‘Data, data, data.’ You think with an amused smile blooming on your face.

For about ten minutes you wonder the streets aimlessly, looking at the plants that grown up the shop fronts and the old Roman roads. Benches are in the middle of the ‘roads’ that are really used for pedestrians to walk on, tram cars sliding by the painting like scenery.

Whilst wondering a small alleyway catches your eyes.

It’s not a dingy alleyway with bins and a dead end but it’s actually a little nook filled with cafes and small hobby shops.

Looking both ways you walk across the street into the alley, every bump of the pathway felt even in you tick soled trainers.

Passing a few shops your eyes land on a small round of metal tables, some filled with people, outside a small two-story café.

You walk in, a heartly woman automatically greeting you from the counter at the back. The place is very small and thin but it does not feel claustrophobic. There is a cottage core vibe to it, the place lit up by the huge widows at the front and the fairy lights shaped like hearts.

The downstairs seems to be the place to order food and drink, a peak of a small kitchen at the back can be seen from an open door past the counter.

‘Um hello.’ You say back to the woman whilst you wipe your feet on the welcome mat, ‘What’s good here?’

‘Well first are you allergic to anything my dear?’

You answer the question and tell the woman what kind of tea you like.

‘Well because today is Valentine’s day, we have our cake special that I think is perfect for you!’

You look at the slice of cake the woman points at in the little display case.

‘It’s freshly baked, I made it just this morning!’

‘Yeah, sure, it looks nice. I’ll have a slice.’ You need to indulge yourself every now and then.

She slides a cup of your favourite tea and a slice of cake to you. You pay with you card, leaving a good tip.

‘The upstairs is the best place sit.’ She says as you take your plate and cup.

 With a nod you ascend the steps to the upstairs to see the prettiest room you’ve ever seen.

The room’s roof is a giant glass window and there is many potted plants that look like they’re growing up the walls. Tables are littered around, each one with a different flower on it, some customers are using the built in holo computer screens.

You find a small two four person table near the back and you sit down breathing in the faint smell of pollen that doesn’t actually tickle your nose into a sneeze.

‘Hum, could be fake plants?’ you think as you take a sip of your tea.

.

.

For a while you just eat and browse the holo screen at your table, emersed and doom scrolling through blogs about robotics.

You had sent a message to Data telling him where you are and telling him to come here when he was done with Spot’s check up.

It must have been half an hour at staring at the screen. You had finished the pink decorated cake and your tea was almost done as well.

With achy eyes you peer up and look around the room.

There seems to be the same people albeit a couple new faces.

In on corner to your right is a mother with her child who you hadn’t noticed, an older person sits clicking on old keyboard laptop and a new younger man sits waiting next to the giant window overlooking the alleyway.

Even though this man is far away you can tell that he’s a good looking man. Said person wears a short sleeve patterned button down reminiscent of the 1990’s, the blues stripes bold against the cottage core interior of the café. The shirt is tucked into some brown slacks, that are rolled up at the bottom and held up by a shiny black belt. Block coloured peek out from his trousers and equally shiny black shoes.

If you would try to pull off such a vintage outfit but all you ever wear is your work uniform or oversized hoodies, making you look like a in debt college student. Right now you look like a in debt college student in your Starfleet branded hoodie and shorts that are comfy but childish in colour scheme.

‘I bet this café attracts all the fashionable types.’ You think sipping the last of your tea only to spit out in surprise.

The man in the retro shirt turns around only to reveal a very familiar yellow and silver visor.

‘Fuck, he’s even more good looking!’ your mind becomes scrambled, ‘Was he always there? Does he know I’m here? Should I go over and say hi?’

Your eyes stay on Geordi as he keeps on peering out of the big window, him looking like he’s waiting for someone.

‘Maybe he’s waiting for Data?’ it’s a logical assumption that Data told him to meet him in the café you are in. A check up for a cat doesn’t take that long right?

 You leave you cup and plate on you table and start to edge your way over to the handsome man.

You’re not sure if what you’re doing is right but you step next to his table, with a big smile on your face and hand raised up in a too enthusiastic wave.

‘Geordi La Forge, right?

Geordi’s snaps up to yours, his face looks slightly confused in that puppy kid of way.

‘Sorry, I’m (y/n), Data’s friend.’ you stop waving so you don’t look so odd, ‘Um, I saw you here and wanted to say that Data will be coming here after Spot’s vet appointment. Sooooo, if you want to join, my table is free.’

Whilst you happily talk Geordi’s face morphs into a sweet smile. You quickly look down to his two person table to see to sets of cups and two slices of heart themed cupcakes, clearly for another half.

‘Though you don’t have too if you have plans.’

‘He talks about you a lot.’ Geordi declares, ‘Too much sometimes.’

‘Well I am a brilliant person.’ you lean against the window trying to look cool but the hoodie you drown in just makes you look dishevelled.

There is an awkward pause before you just stop leaning as start walking away.

‘I see you might be busy, so I’m over here-‘ you point over to your table, ‘-yeah.’

With some more muttered pleasantries you shuffle back to your table hoping tha he doesn’t find you too weird. With you bum on the seat you wave you hand at the holo screen unlocking it from it’s sleeping state before quickly looking up to catch Geordi looking at you.

With another odd wave you hunch down and resume reading an article cybernetic enhancements in the medical field but every ten minutes or so you have to look up at Geordi.

One time you looked up he was staring out the window, another time he was stirring his drink like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and now you’re looking at him rapidly typing out something on a communicator.

With your tea and cake devoured you quickly stand up to go downstairs to order some more tea. You look around and hope that no one takes your table, the tope floor is pretty empty now, and the holo screen on the table is still on.

It takes about five minutes but you bound up the stairs with not one but two cups of tea.

Hurried you head over to Geordi’s table and slide him one of you cups, making the man look up to you with another look of confusion.

‘Hot tea turned cold isn’t the best so I got you another cup.’ and with another small wave you walk back your table.

‘Smooth (y/n), he’s going to like me now!’ a Cheshire cat grin blooms as you take a sip of you drink.

As you fangirl/fanboy over your ‘move’ a person slides in the seat opposite you.

 ‘Is it still ok to sit.’ Geordi asks holding his cup of tea.

‘Well you’re technically already sitting down.’ you turn of the holo screen with your hand, ‘But you can stay, if that’s what you’re asking.’

You look at Geordi, gaze unchanged, confidence oozing out of you.

‘I’d imagine that Data will be here soon.’ you lean forward a bit, ‘So we should acquaint each other before he does.’

‘I guess you already know who I am. I know who you are… thank you for the tea by the way.’

‘I don’t want to be a nosy so and so but why were you alone.’ You ask hoping you don’t sound rude.

‘I can ask the same thing to you.’ He quips back.

‘Had nothing to do and went exploring, found thing place. You?’ you press.

‘I got stood up.’ He plainly puts it, ‘Was chatting to someone in engineering and yeah…’

Geordi looks deflated as he gulps his drink.

‘Which dick stood you up, I can set my robot on them.’ he looks up at you with a bright smile.

‘You have a robot?’

‘It’s my thing.’

Another pause o silence happens before Geordi speaks.

‘Lieutenant James Sibell.’ as he says the name a disgusted scoff comes from you lips, your face distorted in disgusted.

‘That bastard man!’ you hand fly up in a comical rage, ‘Good job you have me to keep you company.’

Geordi laughs at your words, a small pit of joy growing in his heart, he must tell Data later that he has a good friend in you and that he should have introduced you two sooner.

.

.

Data step up the stairs of the café, spot in her cat carrier, and a slice of cake.

He only bought the cake out of curiosity, the cake having rainbow icing and little sugar heart shaped sweets on top.

When he gets to the top he automatically scans the room. His eyes land on a table near the back, his two closets friends chatting together, both sitting rather close.

.

.

.

i have no clue if this is good. it’s long-ish but that doesn't necessarily equate to it being the best.

please tell me if it’s good or not.

[dreamlover31]

Broken Promises

Hello my dearies, thank you for all of your comments and support throughout this comeback of mine lol

And now here's the third and final installment of my mini drama...my apologies since this took me a while to post this

Tagging: @madpanda75 @dreila03 @laceybellerain @melsquared79 @southern-magnolia @glimmerglittergirl @xemopeachx @misssirenlove @tropes-and-tales @thatesqcrush @sweetsummertime99 @imjustreallynosy @amirightcounselor @rampantmuses​ @youreverycolor​

Two pink lines...what should have been caused for great joy, instead has brought upon nothing but anguish and despair. After the incident at the apartment, you had packed up your belongings and moved into your sister’s place in Soho; leaving behind the man who had all but decimated your heart. Though the time was brief, being held hostage by your fiance’s mistress was a real wake up call, the wool that had been pulled over your eyes that day; and it revealed a very ugly truth, that Rafael Barba was nothing more than a vile creature who had taken your love for granted and threw it back in your face, however, when you revealed the pregnancy it was merely a ploy to get Sophie to drop her guard so that he could take the opportunity to take her out of the equation.

A few days after the incident, you had started feeling nauseous and had some weird cravings for pickles and garlic knots, and that was when the gears turned in your head; so one day when your sister was at work, you trekked down to the bodega down the street from her apartment where you had purchased 3 different types of pregnancy tests. Upon your return, you anxiously awaited the results as you sat on the edge of the tub, after a few minutes, you peered down at the stick and your heart dropped.

Later that day, your sister Rebecca returned home from work where she found you on the couch curled up in a blanket; eyes shrink wrapped in tears. She set her things on the coffee table and wrapped an arm around you, she rubbed your shoulder soothingly until your tears had subsided and that was when you revealed the reason for your distress.

Meanwhile, Rafael painstakingly went about his life, despite protests from Liv and the others, in his mind it made sense to keep himself busy, that way he wouldn’t have to deal with the reality that he had lost the love of his life...and her confession of becoming an expectant mother. After the Sophie fiasco, Rafael was desperately trying to contact Charlotte, he had lost track of the many phone calls and text messages he sent her; although he couldn’t blame her...he had violated her trust in an unforgivable manner and as much as he wanted to just make everything that happened disappear, there was no way that he could reclaim the life he once had.

Rafael was sitting in his office reviewing one of his case files when his phone beeped, his emerald irises widened when he saw the message��� it was the last person he expected to hear from...Charlotte.

We need to talk...meet me at the coffee shop down the street from my OB’s office

Alright...I’m on my way

Charlotte scheduled an appointment with her doctor once she had time to collect her thoughts, as she was sitting on top of the examination table, her mind drifted back to the conversation she had with Rebecca the night before...as hard as it would be, if it turned out that she was indeed pregnant, she would have to notify Rafael. At that moment, her doctor entered the room with the test results in hand, with a soft smile, she confirmed what Charlotte already knew and now it was time to have an unpleasant conversation with the man who betrayed her; as she exited the building, Charlotte texted Rafael and began making her way to the coffee shop. The front door chimed as Rafael stepped inside the establishment, his eyes scanned the enclosure for Charlotte until he saw her in the back corner, slowly, he padded towards the table where she had a coffee already waiting for him. They barely looked at one another as the world around them continued to function in its normal capacity, the tension surrounding them was so palpable you could cut it with a knife. Charlotte lightly tapped her fingers on the container housing her chamomile tea as she thought of the best way to approach the subject...finally, it was Rafael who ultimately broke the awkward silence.

“I would ask how you are doing but…”

“Then don’t” Charlotte snapped all the while maintaining her composure without breaking down into tears again, she breathed through her nose and exhaled a deep breath then blurted out:

“It’s official...I’m pregnant and your the father”

Rafael blinked as he took a moment to process the huge bombshell that was just dropped on him, although he had his suspicions, receiving actual confirmation made everything all the more real. While his first instincts were to reach out and hold Charlotte’s hand and comfort her, he knew that she would rebuff his advances, with a heavy sigh, he continued:

“Charlotte...I know there’s nothing I can say or do to make up for everything that has happened, but I just want you to know that whatever you decide...I will respect your wishes”

Charlotte replied, "Well look at you...the great Rafael Barba playing the martyr"

The venom in her voice caused Rafael to inwardly cringe while on the outside his face took on a wounded appearance.

Charlotte sighed, "I'm sorry Rafael...that was unfair of me"

"It was well deserved believe me"

She looked out the window for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts while Rafael looked on, carefully gauging her mood. Finally, she spoke:

“Look...I don’t know where we go from here...all I know is that I do want you to be a part of our child’s life and we’ll figure it out as we go along with regards to visitation and support”

Her words were like a dagger to Rafael’s heart, granted that she was willing to let him see their child, a part of him hoped that she would consider the possibility of raising their little bundle of joy together; and yet the more realistic side of him understood that once a trust has been breached, it could take a long time to rebuild or worst case scenario, one can never regain that trust. He frowned but nodded his head in agreement, upon exiting the coffee shop, they both decided that Charlotte would update Rafael on the baby’s development and went their separate ways.

6 months later…

Charlotte stares idly at the monitor as the doctor ran the ultrasound wand along her abdomen, waiting to catch a glimpse of the tiny life growing inside her, today was the day that she would find out the gender of her baby. The doctor adjusted the image on the screen to where a little grey jelly bean came into view, as she pointed out how the baby was developing on schedule, Charlotte became overwhelmed with emotion; tears began to prick in her eyes as she sniffled. 

“Charlotte..are you ready to know what you are having”

“Yes, please”

The doctor clicked a few more buttons and a more clearer picture came into focus

“Congratulations Charlotte...you’re having a healthy baby girl”

The floodgates opened as tears streamed down her face, the amount of joy and love that she felt for the tiny human being inside her was astounding; at that point the doctor excused herself so she could print out the ultrasound pictures. During this moment of solitude, Charlotte’s happiness was quickly foreshadowed by the fact that this beautiful child was created out of the love that she once shared with Rafael, the man that she was set to wed before it was revealed that he had been unfaithful to her but as much as she wanted to hate him for the rest of her life...there was a part of her that still loved him and missed him very much. She quickly wiped her eyes as the doctor re-entered the room, she was handed the ultrasound pictures before gathering her belongings and leaving the examination room. She was then escorted down the hall to the reception desk, as she was finishing up with the receptionist, a familiar figure was sitting patiently in the waiting room. Upon entering, Charlotte was greeted with a smiling tall, sandy haired gentleman.

“You ready to go Charlotte”

“Ready when you are Sonny”

Sonny smiled as the two of them made their way out of the building, he helped her into his car that was parked along the sidewalk and as soon as he was in the driver’s seat; he started the ignition and drove off. A few months prior, Sonny had ran into you while grocery shopping at the local market, the two of you exchanged pleasantries and even agreed to meet up for lunch later on that week and ever since then, Sonny was like a Godsend. Whenever you were feeling overwhelmed or you just needed someone to talk to, he would always be there. He even invited you over to his place a couple of times where he would share with you the many culinary delights from mama Carisi and cuddle up on the couch and binge watched on various movies involving tragic romances. Sonny meandered down the streets of downtown Manhattan while Charlotte looked out the passenger window watching the buildings pass by, her mind a jumbled mess with everything that has happened, she finds herself in one hell of a moral dilemma. It was almost as if Sonny could read her mind because when they came to traffic light, he looked over to her and asked:

“Is everything ok?”

With a heavy sigh, Charlotte replied, “I don’t know Sonny...how can you miss someone who dismantled everything you once knew to be true...who you gave your heart and soul to, only to have it torn apart…”

He frowned as he put the car in gear and continued driving towards her apartment, “I know what Barba did was inexcusable…but I’ve seen him in the office and he puts up a good front but deep down I know he misses you terribly and would give his soul to be with you again”

Charlotte smiled softly, knowing that Rafael still cared for her brought some comfort, but the underlying question was that if she reunited with Rafael...how does she know that she can trust him again. The car came to a stop outside her apartment building, and they began their ascent up the elevator then as they reached her floor, they strolled down the hall towards her door; Charlotte settled down on the couch while Carisi prepared dinner. The aroma of cooked pasta and oregano filled the room, after chowing down on their exquisite feast, Charlotte and Carisi planted themselves on the couch and browsed through Netflix until they decided on a romantic comedy with Jude Law and Julia Roberts. 

They were well into the movie when there was a knock at the door, Sonny got up and looked through the peephole and then opened the door a crack where in his line of sight he was welcomed by  his colleague in a three piece suit; the well rounded and sassy ADA known as Rafael Barba. The two men nodded at one another upon entry, Charlotte carefully sat up and stood in the middle of the living room, there was a moment of awkward silence before Sonny spoke:

“Well I’m going to run down to the store real quick, we ran out of milk”

And with that, Sonny grabbed his coat and left, Rafael and Charlotte looked at each other with weariness in each other’s eyes, not knowing what to say or do. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Rafael broke the ice:

“How are you feeling?”

“For the most part, I feel tired and gross”

Rafael snorted, “If you don’t mind me saying...I think you are still the most beautiful woman to ever walk this Earth”

Charlotte blushed at his words, she forgot that he could be pretty charming when he wanted to be, she fiddled with her fingers as she sat back down on the couch. Rafael soon joined her but kept his distance.

“Listen...the reason I came over was to tell you that I’m happy for you and Carisi”

Charlotte furrowed her brows, “Excuse me”

“He’s a good man...and I know that he’ll take care of you the way you deserve to be...and I think we can make this whole co-parenting situation work as long as there is an open communication with one another”

Charlotte grinned and began giggling, at the same time, Rafael looked on with puzzlement.

“Did I miss something?”

Once she sobered up, she replied, “Rafael...I’m not dating Sonny, we’re just friends”

“But everyone at the precinct has been saying how close you both have gotten and that it was only a matter of time before…”

“Look Rafael...these last six months have been hard and as much as I want to hate you with every fiber of my being, I’ve come to realize that I still love you and I miss you so much”

Rafael gazed upon Charlotte’s face, slowly he brought up his hand and cradled her face, his thumb caressed her cheek as she leaned into his touch. He pulled himself closer to her until their faces were inches apart, he gave her a hesitant kiss on her lips but from there it gained momentum. All those months apart, the longing and need spilled out into the fiery, passionate kisses but then they reluctantly broke the kiss in need for air; their eyes connected for a brief moment until Rafael spoke again:

“I love you Charlotte...and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you...if you’ll have me”

Charlotte desperately wanted to believe him, and while she was unsure as to what the future held for them, all she knew was that she couldn't imagine a life without Rafael in it.

“We have some work to do, but I am willing to give us another try”

[magical-readathon-diaries]

Djali’s Log 1

So I guess this is the beginning of it? The big adventure I always dreamed of? Braving the Novice Path, heading towards the Academy to meet new people, learn new things, see fantastic places. Wait, should I do an introduction here? Do journals even need introductions? Well, what if one day my journal is saved for posterity for some historical reason? Maybe someone venturing onto the Novice Path in the future could benefit from reading this log and learn how to better navigate it themselves? Yes, yes, then an introduction is in order.

Hello, this is Djali, of the Great Underworld Library of Darkmeadow. I am seventeen years of age, of Iltirian heritage, and tutored in the realms of history, geography, biology, archivism, and certain magics, such as conjuration and illusion. I have spent my entire life beneath Darkmeadow and was raised by the curators of the Library, though my main overseer is, at this moment, Archivist Caddigan. My knowledge of the world and its inhabitants is limited solely to my own personal research, as this log contains my first voyage away from home, so any discrepancies or misunderstandings found within are solely the fault of my own inexperience. That’s a normal thing to put in a journal, right? Okay, focus, time to move forward.

My journey to Orilium was relatively uneventful. Caddigan arranged passage for me on a ship, which carried many other residents of Darkmeadow looking to take on the Path. I was eager to speak with them to learn how they would approach this challenge, knowing that not all who undertake it come out alive. While I did get the usual pleasantries, no one was willing to talk for long. They were still planning, preparing, or fretting for what was ahead of them. Not that I can blame them, of course. With all the stories one hears, it would be foolish not to do everything in one’s power to make sure they were one hundred percent ready. It’s just….I thought things would be different. Less…. solitary. That we would all recognize our common goal and work together, like the stories of heroes long ago. But, those stories are the past, not now, as Caddigan always tries to remind me. Still, why can’t then be now also?

I spent most of the time reacquainting myself with the map of the Path, its general layout, as well as practice some magic that may be of use during the test. I had it all down to the best of my ability, I didn’t think I can take much more of it. My head was so full of what ifs, contingency plans, and just general information it feels like it was going to burst. I think the only time I felt any solace was at night.

Though I was unable to chance a flight that night, I did fly up the mast to sit in the crow’s nest. It was made for crows after all. I haven’t done too much study into nautical topics, so that’s my best assumption. I stared for a while at the stars, still admiring, my mind wanting to focus on a single point, rather than the chaos currently bouncing around my temples. It was a nice moment, one that I will treasure always and take comfort in. Of course, I eventually fell asleep, so the morning after I needed a bit of help getting down since the blasted sun was ruining my eyes again, but we won’t dwell on that.

This was my first time leaving the Library, meaning this was probably the longest time I have been on the surface in a while. I’ve ventured out onto the topside of Darkmeadow a few times, giving Caddigan multiple heart attacks in the process, but those excursions were never that long, not enough for me to get a good sense of the outside. Being on the ship, however, exposed me to what life is like in the open air. Before I left, Caddigan gave me a blindfold, as my eyes are not used to the sun and I really would not like to spend my days in a total blinded stupor. During the day I mostly spent time below deck, just wandering aimlessly. But at night, I emerged to see a sky flooded with stars.

I’ve studied stars in the past, learned their names, positions, and what constellations they create, but actually seeing them was almost indescribable. The light was soft, gentle, unlike the harsh light of day that I unfortunately have to get used to. They were celestial pinpricks in a velvet tarp of night, the world made more beautiful just by their existence. There was no moon unfortunately, but it was still a sky worth looking at. Everything felt so still and quiet, the lap of the waves against the ship making the only noise. A salty breeze tousled my hair and for a moment I was tempted to shift into crow shape just to feel what it would be like to ride it. The captain had expressly told the Iltirian passengers not to do so, something about us “land-dwellers” not knowing how to “bend to these ferocious sea winds,” but I think it may just be his superstition of not wanting too many ‘birds of ill omen” near his ship. Not very logical thinking if you ask me, but we all have our quirks.

It wasn’t too long after that the ship made it to Orilium. Thankfully by that time I could travel fairly well in the day without my blindfold, something I was extremely grateful for as the time to start the Novice Path was drawing near. We disembarked and made our way to the campsite near the entrance to the Path. A good amount of people were already there, setting up tents, getting a lay of the land, writing messages to loved ones should they not make it out. It was honestly depressing to think about, but it was a reality. There was no certainty that we were all going to make it out of here alive. Though we were all looking for adventure, for a chance to prove ourselves worthy, that all came with a price, one that some may have to pay in full.

I don’t think I find myself particularly worried. I think it’s more like I can’t allow for failure, so I can’t even accept the possibility of it. I can’t come to grips with the fact that I may very well die in the near future. Call it the reckless abandon of youth, but It just seems so impossible. That confidence will either be my greatest asset or my ruin. But enough of that! This is supposed to be exciting! That’s what readers like! A dragging down to earth is necessary in certain parts, but only so that we can rise up again!

Clearly the mood was starting to weigh heavily in the air, as an old elf came before us and delivered a well, I think it was intended to be a rousing speech about the merits of having danger in an adventure, which I suppose is true, but doesn’t alone soothe anyone’s worries. The song he performed afterwards did a lot more in stirring up the revelry of the crowd. It’s a song we all know, a song that was practically born in our minds at birth. In that moment, all those feelings of fear, doubt, and anxiety melted away, as we raised our voices as one and came together to celebrate the calm before the storm of our journey.

The night that followed was one I admit that I will be hard pressed to forget. The archivists of the Library are, surprisingly, not the most mirthful of people, so I’ve never actually been to anything resembling a party. It was very..loud to say the least. Lots of drinking, dancing, shenanigans, which I guess is normal? They don’t exactly have any academic material on this subject, though such a text would probably be very helpful to people like me. The utter pandemonium of it all was hard to navigate at first, but I think I managed to fit in rather well. I danced the best I could with some other Iltirians. I’m not much of a dancer, another thing they fail to teach you when you live at the Library, but no one pointed and laughed so I’ll take that as a triumph.

And that has been my journey up until now. Tomorrow I begin my adventure on the Novice Path, along with the others who want to prove their worth to the Academy. It’s hard to believe that the time has finally come, that I’m only one sleep away from the most important day of my life. Here’s hoping that it’s also not the last.

I mingled through the crowd, politely taking a drink now and then. I got a few names, had a couple worthwhile conversations, some a little one-sided, but I don’t think anyone’s eyes completely glazed over as I went on about the magical properties of certain gemstones. I’m not sure if I would call anyone friend just yet, though something in me desperately wants to. There’s still the fear that the people I met tonight may very well be gone tomorrow, but tonight was for enjoying this glorious moment, not dreading the future. So, the night passed thusly, with wine and song and the hope that tomorrow is a guarantee.

When the party died down and people retired to their tents, I rolled out a pack on the ground, completely content to sleep under the sky. The stars were shining bright as ever, the lovely constants of the sky, and now there was a slight sliver of moon to accompany them. Though there was little to see, she sure was beautiful.

I’m sorry, I really can’t end the log like that. So depressing. Uh, what else to end it on?

Well, the moment I wrote that a literal tumbleweed blew past me, perfectly summarizing the emptiness of my mind.

Okay, on that note, this log is complete.

[blkmxrvel]

Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (14)-[CONVERTED]

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader

Summary: In  the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their   Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount   Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El   finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of   her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so   terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.

A/N: this doesn’t count as writing, bc i didn’t write it im just converting shshshs. plus im falling more and more in love with Kara each week. also, i’m redoing my masterlist since i changed my url and none of the links work so. 

There were numbers for everything and everyone that Y/N Hastings could possible need, including three theaters, on her new phone.

There was also Angry Birds, which she was perfectly willing to blame for the fact that it took her an hour and a half to text Kara back after her “Good morning :)” message. It felt a little strange, when she realized it, that she didn’t feel panicked as she normally did when she took so long to do something. But that was probably because when she texted back a hello and an apology (blaming the game) for being delayed, all she got back was another smiley, and a cheerful “Hope you’re having fun!” What little uncertainty Y/N had vanished with that response, replaced with a warm feeling that maybe, just maybe, sometimes it was okay to do things on her own time.

But now, the game aside, Y/N sat staring at her contacts list, or, more importantly, at those three theater numbers. Her thumb settled over one, labeled National City Playhouse, and she pressed it, then the call button.

Two rings, then, “National City Playhouse?”

Y/N hung up.

She tried the next number. And hung up as soon as they answered.

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch in Nia’s living room, where she’d been lounging around, and began to pace the floor. Miss Kara had done so much for her, Y/N thought. She wanted to do something in return, and not only that but she wanted to see her again. It had been two days since she’d seen Miss Kara. She’d told Y/N she had to do some travelling for SETS, a seminar she needed to attend. And though Y/N knew Miss Kara had a job to do, it didn’t stop her from feeling a little lost in her absence. Y/N had spent the time watching television and going to her therapies at the House. She’d talk to Nia in the evenings when they had dinner, but as much as they shared in common, it still wasn’t the same as being with Miss Kara. Y/N had yet to venture back out into town, even though Nia had let it slip that they were running low on food supplies. That had made Y/N feel guilty, even as Nia had hastened to explain that she was just trying to help Y/N go out, not that she blamed her for anything.

The one bright spot had been last night’s phone call before bed; Kara had called her to let her know she’d be home the following day, finally. Y/N had lain in her bed with the cell phone pressed to her ear, smiling at Kara’s quiet questions. Had she been taking care of herself? Had she been eating enough? Was Nia being good to her? Did she talk anymore to Maggie? And then her gentle laughter when Y/N had turned the questions back on her. Both of them had reassured the other that yes, they were taking care of themselves… and yes, they missed each other.

So Y/N wanted to do something when Kara came back the next day, to show her that she had missed her, and that she was glad she’d come home. And she knew Kara loved the theater, so…

It was time for her to plan a date. But there would be no planning, and no date, if Y/N couldn’t even talk to a stranger on the other end of the line.

She stared once more at the phone, before selecting a number, and dialing.

“Hey, little Y/N, what’s up?” There was some shuffling, then Ask her if she’s okay in the background, and Y/N smiled. “You okay?”

“I’m all right, but I do need your help.”

“Ooh, if it’s help you need, I’m your girl. Toilet stopped up? Creepy attic needing exploring? Any assholes from a former life that maybe need tracking down and—“

“Maggie Sawyer-Danvers.”

That was Alex, and Y/N giggled.

“Sorry, Ma’am. Really though, Y/N, what’s up?”

“I need to know about theaters in National City.”

“… Ma’am? I think you better take this one.” She could hear Alex chuckling, then a sound as if Maggie’s phone was put on speaker. “I don’t know anything about the theaters except Ma’am and I went with Kara a couple times, like I told you. I never pay attention to what’s showing; I just know that we have to get front row seats because Kara gets cranky if someone tall sits in front of her.”

“She could always sit on my lap if that happens.” The words were out before she could even think, and Y/N clamped her mouth shut. Stupid, she told herself. Stupid, stupid, she’s not even your Mistress.

There was a pause, and then Alex’s voice came over the phone, dry and amused. “She could indeed. Y/N, why the sudden interest in theaters? She didn’t put numbers in your phone, did she?”

“Yes?”

“Ah, as she did when she picked up mine one day. Sneaky girl, our Kara.”

Y/N turned pink at “our,” and said quickly, “I want to take her on a date. To the theater. But I.. I don’t…” She trailed off.

How did you tell a Dominant – a female Dominant – that you didn’t know how to do something? Those words had never been good for her; they’d never gotten her anything more but a slap and a disgusted “Well you’d better learn.” But there wasn’t really any way for her to learn; Sir didn’t allow her on the internet and it wasn’t like she could call up her mother and father to ask them. That would have been awkward enough if all contact with them hadn’t been virtually cut off the minute she turned sixteen.

Russell and Judy Hastings had also been an arranged claim. Their pairing, however, had been a little later than Y/N’s; Russell Hastings had wanted to establish himself in the business world first, as his father had done before him, and so he finally claimed Judy when he was twenty-three. By all accounts theirs was a good match, at least in public. Judy was classy and graceful; Russell stern and proud, always ready with a smile and a glass in his hand. When Y/N was born, she was paraded in the parties and in town as the product of how “old society” worked, and was better. She was the perfect example of arranged claims done right.

But away from the parties, Y/N had grown up as a shy little girl in the stifling air of the Hastings household. Her father was loving and firm with his submissive when they were out of the public eye, but in the privacy of their home, he was indifferent at best, and cold at the worst. Judy drowned her sorrows in the alcohol that her husband kept readily available for his clients, and Y/N was fairly certain her mother suffered for that transgression once the bedroom doors were closed.  But in the mornings her mother would put on a brave face, even as she moved a little stiffly, and told Y/N how wonderful it would be when she was in the arms of her own Sir.

Y/N had doubted it, and now, she knew her instincts had been right.

James had gradually taken away her contact with her parents; she had initially called them once every few days to catch up, though her father would immediately hand the phone to her mother after a few cursory pleasantries, and her mother always seemed to be in a hurry to fix dinner, or get to a social gathering, or anything that would let her hang up the phone as quickly as possible. But Y/N needed to call, needed that last tenuous hold on the life she’d left behind, even if it had been less than ideal. James, however, seemed to have different ideas, and every weekend or holiday she was to spend with her parents, something always came up and she was to remain at home. Finally, the opportunities to see them had just faded away… and her parents never made the effort.

The last time she tried to call was that night.

“You don’t know how to set it up.”

Y/N turned her attention back to Alex, whose voice was soft and understanding. She nodded, and then rolled her eyes. She wouldn’t be able to see that.

“Yes. I mean no, no, I don’t. Can you… help me?”

She felt the panic rising up within her, and Y/N clenched her hand, not holding the phone, against the heat that began to course down her upper arms, the signal that she knew all too well. Her jaw was tight and she clutched hard to the phone with her other hand, waiting for what she knew would inevitably come. Because it always came: derision, laughter, irritation, anger.

“Of course I can help you.”

Y/N blinked. Well, that was unexpected. “You can?” she said, wanting to be sure. Maybe it was a trick, some kind of trap designed to lure her into a false sense of security.

“As I said, of course I can. Why don’t you and I meet somewhere and we can discuss options?”

And there it was. The snare, the net, the cage. Maybe she was one of those Dominants that wanted another pet; Si- James had often hinted that he wanted another, someone who was “easier to live with.” Then again, he’d also told Y/N that she could be replaced. She felt that familiar dread within her, that waking moment when she’d lay in bed and wonder was this it, the day she’d be out on the street with nothing and no one to protect her?

It was strange, Y/N thought briefly, as she began to stutter out her objections, that in the end, she had walked into the street with nothing, and no one to protect her.

“N-no, that’s all right, I’ll figure it out, I-I’ll just call and ask and m-maybe the theater people will—“

“Hey, little Y/N,” Maggie interrupted. “Do you like ice cream?”

Y/N furrowed her brow. “Yes?”

“Cool, so do I. And Ma’am promised I could have ice cream after I finally learned that Fiddler On the Roof isn’t a metal album. Hey, maybe I do know something about musicals. Anyway, why don’t we go get some ice cream? You, me, Ma’am? In the park? Public place, and we can talk about these big plans you have to sweep Kara off her feet.”

“I don’t know…” Y/N said slowly.

“It’s a public park, Y/N,” Alex responded gently. “There are usually quite a lot of people around this time of day, and I assure you that neither Maggie nor I will keep you from going home if you want to. Also ice cream cones.”

“Ice cream is good,” Y/N found herself giggling. She took a deep breath. Could she trust her? She’d been with Maggie and that was nice, but… Maggie was submissive too. She could probably do whatever she wanted to Y/N just as easily as Alex, but…

“What time do you want to meet?”

The taxi this time was easier, especially since Y/N remembered to pay the driver, and accept her change back. That didn’t extend to her actually conversing with him on the ride over to the park; he’d given up after the first five questions were met with just a stare. She probably was being rude to him, Y/N knew, but she didn’t know him, and he wasn’t Miss Kara, so she wasn’t obligated to answer him.

It was strange, being out and about in National City. Y/N had grown up here, had spent her entire life here, and yet she didn’t even know the city. She looked around the park; not seeing Alex or Maggie yet, she sat on a bench nearest the pond, feeling a little nervous. She smiled at the children who darted this way and that, playing ball and yelling back and forth to each other. What would their lives be like in a few years, she wondered. Would they be bent and broken, as she was, or would they stand straight and (fairly, if she was wearing heels) tall like Miss Kara? Their parents, those were the ones that gave Y/N the most pause. It was interesting that she couldn’t really pick up on who was in their respective roles: the man who ran his fingers through the woman’s hair as she rested her head on his lap, reading from a book; the woman who gripped another’s hand tightly as they walked along the periphery of the pond, both of them smiling warmly at Y/N as they passed. She returned the smile, only to have it fade as a man passed by her with a curt nod. She shivered a little.

It had taken her a couple of days to stop looking over her shoulder. The day she’d been brought to the House, after the hospital had released her, two people employed by the council had come to see her. They’d sat as Kara had, trying to ask her questions, trying to force her to answer, thinking if they spoke louder the answers would come. They hadn’t, and when Nia had seen Y/N’s arms wrapped around herself, the girl shaking violently in her chair, she’d sent them away. They meant well, Y/N knew, in spite of everything, but she thought they’d have sent her back to Him. After that, every new person who had come into the House she was convinced had been sent by Him. Every time the phone rang, she was sure it was Him, calling to have her brought home.

It had taken days for her to realize that she wasn’t going back. And even longer for her to realize that he was no longer Him. Every time she had thought of him in the past, each day that she rose and slept again under the rules that he had established, every detail that she had gotten wrong no matter how hard she tried, every blow of the whip that he kept stowed in a trunk in the bedroom, he had always been mentally capitalized, the God of His home and of her life. He was Sir and she was… words that stuck in her throat and hurt her chest. He was Lord and Master and she was little, and only now with Kara’s quiet “little one” uttered with affection, or Maggie’s “little Y/N” offered with a smirk and a wink, was Y/N realizing that that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He was him, and she… she was Y/N.

She heard her name, then, and she glanced up to see Maggie headed her way with Alex following beside. She flexed her fingers in and out, and jumped a little when her phone vibrated, signifying a text. She quickly opened it.

I bought you a present! I can’t wait to give it to you!

It made her feel a little guilty, amid the excitement of a present from Miss Kara. She’d already given Y/N so much… but the date, Y/N thought as she stood up to greet Maggie. The date would be her way of saying thank you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Maggie said easily. She grinned and nudged her a little. “Look at you, no chair. That’s awesome.”

Y/N blushed a little. “I-I still can’t walk for long periods of time, I might have to sit down…”

“Then sit down we will,” Alex said with a smile. “You look positively radiant, Y/N. Please wear green all the time, it ma—“

“Matches my eyes, I know,” Y/N said, and then froze. Oh no, she’d interrupted her. Would he be angry? Please don’t yell at me, she thought, as she added hastily, “Miss Kara said that, she picked out a lot of green things for me to choose from while we were shopping…”

If it was possible, Alex’s smile only grew wider as she surveyed Y/N in her light green dress, the small hair clip holding back one side of her hair. “It’s good to see that Kara has taste in clothes, or, well, someone else’s, at least.” She must’ve seen Y/N’s eyes flash because he laughed, throwing his head back. “I’m teasing, I promise. Kara’s style is unique, and completely her own.”

“I’m still not sure that’s a compliment,” Y/N muttered, but she was so relieved that Alex wasn’t angry at her that she decided to let it go.

“Shall we walk?” Alex said, offering her arm to Y/N, Maggie taking her place on her other side. When she started to walk without accepting it, she pulled some brochures out of his back pocket without missing a beat. “I brought the brochures for the theaters that you have in your phone; it has lists of everything that’s playing this year. We should be able to decide on what Kara would most like to see, using these.”

Y/N nodded. “Thank you. So you think she’d… she’d like to go to the theater with me?”

Alex looked at her; once again her eyes were kind. “My dear Y/N, I think Kara would be over the moon just to stand in the same room as you.”

“You’re such a sap, Ma’am,” Maggie groaned. “Let me translate for you, Y/N: she’ll love it. Not because it’s the theater, but because it’s the theater with you.”

“Now who’s the sap?” Alex said, sticking her tongue out at her sub. “I’ve rubbed off on you.”

“Oh, I’d like you t—“

“So, those brochures?” Y/N held out her hand, and Alex gave them to her with a wink. It didn’t unsettle her as much as it should have; she wasn’t worried about what people would think as she walked through the park flanked by two women. If anything, it gave her even more protection; even in a progressive society like National City, women were treated with far more deference than men, and so most people wouldn’t have thought twice about Y/N walking with Maggie and Alex. And besides, there was always that casual, exciting dance of the unclaimed waiting to be claimed, a world of first glances and smiles, first kisses and first dates. All leading up to that blissful moment of knowing someone was yours, and you were theirs. No doubt if anyone did look twice at Y/N, they’d think her extremely lucky, to either have two subs, or be one of two.

“I don’t… know what all of these are,” Y/N confessed quietly, staring down at the lists of show names she held in her hands. “I don’t know if Miss Kara would like any of them…”

“As I said, I think she’ll be quite happy with anything you choose, simply because you are the one who did the choosing. But might I make a suggestion?” Alex asked.

Y/N nodded, and Alex pointed to one of the names in the brochure.

“Wicked?” She’d heard of it, Y/N thought, a long time ago when she was still at home. Something about it being the new big thing. Maybe it had been on the news that she’d watched while keeping an eye on Judy, passed out drunk on the sofa.

“One of Kara’s favorites. It’s a pity Funny Girl isn’t on tour at the moment, but perhaps one day you two can go to New York and see it. Wicked is a good introduction to the world of musicals, and something Kara knows far too much about, and she’ll be only too willing to share every single tiny detail with you until you are absolutely bored with it.”

“I don’t think I could ever be bored listening to her talk,” Y/N said softly, her head reeling. Wicked… Funny Girl… New York? Would she ever get to go to New York… one day? And with Miss Kara? Alex seemed to think so. Y/N blinked, realizing she had been staring at her with wide eyes.

“Now all that’s needed is for you to call,” Alex pointed out. Her smile to her was confident, reassuring.

Y/N paused for a moment, then pulled out her phone and dialed.

“National City Playhouse?”

She took a deep breath. “I’d like to reserve two tickets for a show, please.” She didn’t have a credit card, but Alex waved his at her, nodding when she promised to pay him back.

Minutes later she hung up the phone, giggling a little when Alex and Maggie whooped in triumph, clapping their hands. She’d done it. She’d just set up a date for herself and Miss Kara. It made her stand up a little straighter, walk a little better. She couldn’t wait until Miss Kara found out what she’d done.

“Maggie,” Alex said suddenly, leaning slightly across her to address her submissive. “Are you feeling well, pet? You’ve completely let us forget about the ice cream.”

“I didn’t forget, Ma’am,” Maggie said with a shrug. “But it seemed like working out the musicals thing for Kara and Y/N was more important.”

“Hmm,” Alex hummed. “I might just have to take your temperature when we get home.” Y/N saw Maggie roll her eyes; luckily Alex grinned. “Why don’t you go get ice cream for us while Y/N and I talk?” Y/N tensed, wanting to grab onto Maggie, but she was already moving away.

“What kind of ice cream do you want, Y/N?” he asked.

“I-I… vanilla,” Y/N said, and Maggie quirked an eyebrow as she walked off, backwards.

“Huh, nobody around here really likes vanilla. But okay, back in a second, Ma’am!”

She turned around, and Y/N was left alone with Maggie’s dominant. Her hands shook a little.

Alex regarded her carefully. “Public park, Y/N,” she reminded her, but there was no trace of anger or frustration in her voice. “We’re just two friends, two good friends – two best friends, you’ll get that after you see the show – who are walking and talking. That’s all, and you’re free to go whenever you like.”

Y/N hesitated, still watching after Maggie, before nodding. “All right.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Y/N felt herself growing tired. She’d been on her feet since Maggie and Alex had arrived, and now she was feeling the strain. “I think I need to sit down…”

“Of course.” Alex led her back over to the bench she’d sat on earlier, and then sat down beside her.  She was quiet, and then said, “Kara seems to be quite taken with you.”

Y/N smiled a little. “I’m… quite taken with Miss Kara.”

“I believe one can see that easily by the way your eyes light up when you say her name,” Alex said with a smile, but her next words were serious. “I worry about Kara.”

“W-worry? Why?”

“Kara is a very strong person,” Alex said, looking as if she was choosing her words as wisely as she could. “She’s had to be, with her father’s illness, and her biological mother toying with her feelings the way she did. But she’s also very susceptible to hurt and becoming overwhelmed with her emotions. Luckily she had Lena to help with—oh but you don’t know about Lena…” Alex stopped, looking suddenly annoyed with herself.

“I do, actually,” Y/N said. “Miss Kara told me about her. That Lena trained her, and that they were… lovers.”

“Were,” Alex reiterated, relief on her face that she hadn’t told Kara’s secret. “But yes, Lena helped her with that, but sometimes Kara still wants everything too much and she’s easily… hurt. I don’t want to see that happen to her.”

“I-I don’t want that to happen either.” There was a sick feeling in the pit of Y/N’s stomach. Was she going to take Kara away from her? Forbid Kara to see her, or forbid her to see Kara? She wouldn’t let her do that, Y/N suddenly decided. She wasn’t going to tell her that she couldn’t see her Miss Kara.

Her Miss Kara…

“I’d do anything to keep from hurting her.”

“I don’t want to see you hurt either,” Alex said, and Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Not that I think Kara would consciously hurt you, but you’ve been through so much, Y/N. Things that no one ever deserves to go through, and if I could find him right now and punch him without messing up my hair I would.” Y/N snorted in spite of herself, and Alex grinned at her.

“Both of you deserve much happiness, and if it’s meant to be the two of you together, then it’s meant to be. But Y/N, please be careful, for Kara’s sake and yours. You’re only just discovering what you want, and there’s so much of the world for you and Kara to find separately and together before you jump into something that has the potential to hurt you both.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “I-I know,” she said.

“And listen; if you two do end up together please… tell her argyle gives you headaches. Or that you’re allergic to bows. Something. Anything. I’m begging you.”

She couldn’t help but laugh then, and Alex joined her, as Maggie came up with the ice creams and a confused look. She felt easy, light, as they sat together on a bench at a public park in National City, listening to the birds and enjoying ice cream cones.

She felt free.

And she couldn’t wait for Miss Kara to come home.

[assistant-archivist]

Unwelcome

Written statement of Garrett Jennison, October 16th, 2019

My mother has been dead for twelve years, so you can imagine my surprise when I came home to her cutting up what looked like freshly baked brownies in my kitchen. 

I live alone, so it was already strange enough to come home to… Anyone, really. My first thought of course was a burglar. Then the smell hit me. What kind if burglar bakes pastries in the middle of a robbery? I grabbed a shoehorn - not a very good weapon, I know, but it was the best thing I had immediately available - and proceeded to the kitchen.  

I swear I nearly had a heart attack when she-... When It spoke. 

“Hello dear,” My mother’s voice greeted me as I entered the room. Of course I knew that it wasn’t really her, but for just a moment, a childish hope filled me. My mother’s death had been very sudden. Brain aneurysm… While she was baking brownies, actually. It had hit me really hard, and I had never quite gotten over it. Maybe that’s why It decided to target me. 

My second thought was that I was hallucinating. I eliminated that, though, because it seemed very improbable. I had never experienced hallucinations of any kind before, and my mental health was doing quite well up until this whole… Ordeal. My next idea made me question my own sanity a little, though, I will admit. 

For just a second, I wondered if it was a ghost. Now - I’ve never been one to be… Superstitious. I’ve never been a believer in the Supernatural. Even as a child, I was never afraid of ghosts or monsters or demons… Well, until now, that is.

You know, hindsight being 20/20 and all, I should have just left. Maybe it would have decided I wasn’t worth It’s time and left me alone… 

But, too late to change that now. I’ve made my bed, now I have to lay in it. 

“Who are you?” I demanded. Little did I know, I should have been asking ‘What are you?’ It’s not a person, no matter how much it looks or sounds or acts like one. It’s not a person. 

A smile that I suppose was meant to look kind spread across Its face. It’s voice was bittersweet. “What, you don’t recognize your own mother?” A shiver ran down my spine and it felt like the room got twenty degrees colder. 

I would have loved to say of course I recognized her, I was happy to have her back, oh how I had missed her and how is she here now and all those pleasantries… But I just couldn’t. I just couldn’t bring myself to really believe this thing wearing my mother’s face - Maybe literally, I don’t know. I still don’t know what that thing was. 

There was just something off about this thing. It’s smile, the way it spoke, I couldn’t place it at the time, but it just… It had an almost… Predatory aura. Like a wolf dressed up as a bunny rabbit. I still can’t say exactly what set off the alarm bells, just something about this thing made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It didn’t have too many teeth - they weren’t sharp either, it’s eyes looked normal… Nothing looked immediately wrong with it, but I could just… I could sense, as ridiculous as that sounds, that there was something wrong. 

I feel ridiculous writing that. I’ve never believed in that kind of shit, but here I am. Saying I fucking sensed something. I’ve always sort of looked down on people that talked about that sort of thing, that claimed they’d had paranormal experiences, y’know. I thought they were ridiculous, overly paranoid - Sorry, this isn’t what I came here to tell you about. 

I think it’s worth noting, the longer I stood in its presence, the fouler the brownies smelled. I looked at them once the thing was gone - Well, okay, I looked at them two days later. I couldn’t even bring myself to enter the kitchen for a little while. They were rotted, like an old fruit or something, and they smelled like death. I don’t know what that thing put in them, but I became infinitely more glad that I hadn’t eaten them. I threw out the whole pan, my apologies. Looking back, they might have been able to help prove my story. 

Anyways… I knew that something was… Out of place, with my supposed mother. I knew I had to get it out of my house, I just didn’t know how to do it. It turned out to be surprisingly easy, but for a moment, I wondered if I was going to die. I guess that’s what fear does to you, you get irrational, jump to conclusions, worst case scenarios and all that. I wasn’t sure what to do, at that moment I really just wanted to get out of this encounter alive. 

“You aren’t welcome here, leave my home please.” I said. I’m sure my voice was shaking and quiet. I already don’t like confrontation and confronting what I thought at the time must have been a demon was even more terrifying. I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. I vaguely remembered something about uh… Vampires, I believe? Something something can’t enter without permission something something, I was desperate, you know. I thought maybe that sort of rule was universal to such unpleasant creatures. If it hadn’t left at that moment I would still probably believe it was a demon. 

It’s already disquieting smile faded from Its face unnervingly slowly. It gave me what I think was supposed to be it’s best imitation of a uh, disappointed look. But really it just looked like the thing was glowering at me. The way it left was… Honestly a little bit comedic, looking back, but at the time I was too shaken to do anything but stare. Its eyes never left me as it… Walked? I think it walked, it might have floated… Either way, it stared right at me, scowling the entire way, as it moved out of my kitchen and then backwards out my front door. It strode - I think - down my front steps, and disappeared down the sidewalk. 

I was out of my kitchen in two strides and I slammed the door shut behind me. I wouldn’t go back in there for another two days, like I said, and by the time I had the guts to enter the room again the brownies were… Decayed, is the best word I can really use for it. They were disgusting, and the smell was putrid. Unfortunately I didn’t think to even take a picture before I threw out the dish. It had been my mother’s favorite one, the uh - The pan they were in. I was sad to see it go. Angry, too, that that thing had had the nerve to defile it with whatever wretched trash those brownies really were. 

I went a few days - Four I believe, to be exact - without any more encounters. Granted, I didn’t exactly give the thing many opportunities to get to me. I sped to work and back home each day, and I didn’t dare linger outside for more than the moment it took me to unlock me door and check the sidewalk. I even uh, I even barricaded my backdoor. I stuck a chair under the handle and a broom across the whole thing. I didn’t want to take any risks, and even if a couple piece of flimsy wood wouldn’t have stopped the thing had it decided to return, it gave me a little piece of mind. Enough to get to sleep at night, at least.

Next time I ran into the thing it was at my office. I’m an editor for Mint, by the way. I got in a little earlier than I normally do, there was practically no line at Tim Hortons so I didn’t have to wait. Getting in five minutes early may have been what saved me, to be honest. If that thing had caught me off guard, alone in my office… It may be just fear talking but, I don’t think I would have walked out of there alive. 

When I arrived, it was talking to the receptionist. The… That monster was still wearing my mother’s face. I’m glad I had never showed David - David Huxley, he’s the uh, the receptionist - a picture of my mother, else he surely would have asked questions. Well, he would have asked more questions.

The thing was leaning over the desk, tapping on idly on the surface of it with a couple fingers. It was smiling that alien smile at him, poor David looked about ready to bolt. As soon as I entered the room the thing’s head snapped up, looking at me over its shoulder. The way its neck bent was… Peculiar. It looked just a little too loose - I’m sorry, I really don’t know how else to describe it. 

David looked relieved that it’s attention was no longer on him, but he peered up at me with concern in his eyes. 

“Garrett!” It exclaimed in what I assume was meant to be a joyous tone. It sounded ecstatic, like it could barely contain its excitement, like it had been plotting and anticipating this meeting for a long time and it’s plans had finally come to fruition. “How are you darling?” For a brief moment, I honestly thought it’s voice had come out garbled or uh, distorted would probably be a better word. David appeared to have heard something off in it as well, he looked back at the thing standing at his desk. I remembered he used to carry pepper spray with him, paranoid about muggings and such - he tended to leave late and he didn’t want to be caught unawares. I wondered if he still had it, or… If it would even do any good against the thing. 

“I have a present for you!” I don’t think I have ever felt a dread like that in my life. “How about we go to your office for a little privacy?” It wasn’t a question, I knew that, it was absolutely a command. For a second, David looked as though he would jump up and physically prevent me from going anywhere with It if I’d tried. He’s become a good friend of mine since this, I’m lucky to have him. So far, he’s the only one that really believes me about all this. 

“No uh, I have to speak with David, please. Privately - It’s important, regarding my meeting with Ms. Paisley?” Ms. Paisley - Julie Paisley, a fellow editor - was away in Europe doing research for a piece about international stamps. I was hoping David would get the message that this was a dangerous and malicious being. 

He stood up and practically dragged me into a different room. The conversation was short, I won’t recall the entire thing here. All that was said really was a brief explanation that we needed to get that thing out and the formation of a haphazard scheme to do so. 

For context, our office is on the third floor of the building. The second floor is offices as well, but the first is just a shoddily put together food court. We ushered the thing down to the first floor with an excuse about ‘Ms.Paisley is on her way and we must be ready the moment she arrives.’ I suppose it’s lucky for us that this thing was monumentally stupid. It was certainly annoyed, insisted that it only needed a moment to speak with me, surely I could spare just a second, really it’s quite important - I thought it would lash out at the both of us as the elevator door closed, separating it from us. 

David was white as a sheet, I’m sure I was too. I honestly thought I was done with it, I didn’t think it would turn up again. Anyways, David and I locked ourselves in my office until the rest of our co-workers arrived. Neither of us saw it again for the rest of the day, fortunately. I suppose it got tired of waiting to catch me off guard and left. 

It was another few days until I saw it again, this time it didn’t speak to me though. I saw it standing in a park, staring at me from across the street. I was getting coffee on my lunch break - The sight of this thing panicked me so much that I nearly left before I got my order. 

I’ve seen it a few times since, each time it’s been watching me from a ways away, and each time it has that daunting smile - Sneer, really, it doesn’t so much smile anymore as it does sneer at me. I wish I knew why it picked me… 

It doesn’t appear that it has any intentions of leaving me alone, I fear for my safety - And for that of those around me, as well. I’m afraid it’s going to come for David or Ms. Paisley to try to get to me. I don’t want any of them to get hurt, I wish they weren’t involved at all. Both David and I have recently invested in a lot of salt - For the lines, across thresholds and all? I’ve even put salt lines on the windows in my office. My co-workers may think I’ve gone mad, but it’s a little bit reassuring, at least. God… I don’t even know if salt lines would stop this thing. 

I’ve come not just to tell you this story, but to ask for help. I need it to leave me alone, I need whatever this is to be gone. I know you don’t do things like that yourselves but I was hoping you could direct me to someone that does, or at least tell me what this thing is so I can take proper precautions against it. 

End of Statement.

Archivist Notes:

Similar statement logged several years ago - 1972, Statement of Helen Brady - former researcher suggested the Corpus Furem Vampiris. (More to be added on CFV later)

Account of mother’s death is accurate. David Huxley was contacted and interviewed - Fully corroborated the story of Mr. Jennison. Gave us an account of his experience with the supposed CFV: 

“The thing gave me the chills. I don’t know how else to describe it aside from unnerving. It’s expressions and the way it talked seemed off somehow, but I couldn’t quite place what was wrong with it. On top of that it didn’t actually tell me who it was, it just said it was here to see Garrett, not even Mr. Jennison, called him Garrett. Normally people at least tell me their relation to someone if they’ve come to the office to see them - Oh and it showed up at… 7:45 am? Which was strange. I wasn’t sure why anyone was looking for Garrett at work that early. Most people have the decency to wait till 9 or something at least. 

Anyways, while it was talking to me I just felt very uncomfortable. Something in me was telling me to just get out of there, come up with an excuse and get away from this weirdo. I didn’t want to just leave it there to intercept Garrett though. I guess I’m sort of… Superstitious, maybe. I’ve always kind of believed in you know, paranormal things. I just didn’t want to let it catch him alone, in case it really was something malicious, you know? I guess I made the right choice, heh. It was probably the scariest experience of my life, but I’m glad I stayed.”

Further investigation is required, supernatural control professionals to be consulted and referred to case.

[ellayuki]

your happiness, my broken heart, and what the future holds

Voltron: Legendary Defenders // Sheith, background Shiro/Curtis

Post Epilogue, Canon compliant // Keith POV

2740 words // Angst, Hopeful Ending

Keith is Shiro's best man at his wedding and he does it with a smile as much as it pains him.

Years later, at one of the Paladins' reunions, things happen and Keith runs away with barely a word, so as to not complicate things even more. Obviously, it doesn't go quite as he expects.

A/N: I haven't watched season 8 (and don't intend to) so this is mostly based on what bits of it I've seen and read about on the internet.

~

It breaks his heart, the walk down the aisle, giving Shiro away, standing by his side while he marries someone else. It breaks his heart, but still, he does it all, and with a smile on his face.

“I don't know how you had the strength to do all that today,” Hunk says, a soft whisper while he and Keith watch from their table as the happy couple dances. “I wouldn't have been able to. Hell, I'd be a wreck, probably.”

Keith spares him a glance, a rueful smile on his lips. “His happiness means more to me than the love I bear. It was…” And here he stops, for a moment, taking a breath. He turns to face Hunk. “I won't say it was easy. It wasn't. But…” And he looks out to the dance ring again. Shiro is whispering something to his new husband. Keith shrugs past the sting in his chest. “Seeing him smile like that today… That's worth everything.”

And it hurts but he means every word he says.

What he doesn't say, though, is that he hasn't seen Shiro smile as brightly as today since the day he'd told Keith he'd been chosen to pilot the Kerberos mission. What he doesn't says is that he’s always known this day would come. First, as a vague notion of some probable, far-off future, and then, later, as a certainty borne from a time distortion-based vision.

Keith keeps those to himself. He doesn't want to be pitied, he doesn't want his friends to feel sorry for him even more than they already do. (He doesn't want to have to explain why he didn't try to change it all if he'd known it would happen.)

He can feel Hunk looking at him, silent but with sympathy in his eyes, but he keeps his gaze resolutely forward.

Yes, it hurts. But Shiro is happy, and so Keith will be happy for him, even as he nurses his broken, bleeding heart.

(Shiro catches his gaze over Curtis’ shoulder, and his smile is like the sun, and Keith knows he's made the right choice.)

~

The shock of the kiss doesn’t sober him up, not nearly enough for him to push Shiro away, to put a stop to this sudden madness. Not when Shiro’s human hand is slowly caressing up his spine under his shirt, not when his prosthetic fingers card through Keith’s hair and grip, gently, and shift his head this way and that, for a better angle.

Not when the slide of Shiro’s tongue against his own is literally something out of his fantasies since Keith was sixteen.

No, Keith can’t push Shiro away, even as a niggling voice at the back of his head keeps whispering ‘You shouldn’t do this. He’s married, you shouldn’t be doing this’.

It’s been over ten years since everything ended, eight since the wedding, the day Keith gave Shiro away with a smile and a broken heart. And it’s been two years since the last time they’ve seen each other, because Keith’s efforts to help those that are still trying to get their lives together after the war and after thousands of years of Galran occupation tends to keep him too busy to even see his own mother, let alone his old friends.

So yes, it’s a shock that after so long, and after a normal evening, having dinner with the other Paladins (former Paladins, now, but still), he finds himself being kissed to within an inch of his life.

But Keith can’t make himself stop, can’t make himself stop Shiro, can only drown in the feeling and in the moment.

 ~

 In the morning, he leaves quietly, head pounding, heart bleeding, shame burning hot through his veins.

‘I’m sorry I had to leave early, but duty calls,’ the note he leaves behind says, a feeble excuse. And, because he feels like it needs to be said, ‘Go back to your husband, Shiro, I’m sure he misses you dearly’.

It doesn’t feel like enough, but he doesn’t know how much Shiro will remember, so he leaves it vague, just in case (he, himself, remembers everything, because such is his luck in life). If Shiro wakes up and doesn’t remember, well, then Keith will tell him Shiro was being a maudlin drunk.

If he does remember... Keith can only hope it will be enough to assure Shiro Keith will not bring it up in the future, that it was something that happened because they were drunk and nothing more (though he knows the guilt will eat Shiro alive, just like it does Keith.)

~

He misses the reunion the next year, not because he wants to (and Gods, did he want to at first, too terrified of ever seeing Shiro again, seeing what one drunken night has done to their already straining friendship), but because he’s unconscious from an ambush from the last remaining dredges of Zarkon’s empire.

He wakes up a week after the meeting was to take place to several video messages from Pidge and from Hunk and from Lance, and two text messages from Shiro (‘When are you arriving? We should talk.’ and ‘Krolia told us what happened. I hope you wake up soon. I miss you.’)

He sends them all a short message, text, because he doesn’t feel up to video calls, and because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle their scolding for not being careful (he got that enough from his mother and Kolivan as soon as he opened his eyes).

‘I’m awake,’ the message says. ‘Still worn out, but I’m fine, so please stop worrying. I’ll call when my throat stops feeling like I’ve swallowed glass. Sorry I couldn’t be there to see you guys.’

(He still gets scolded, even via texts, and he can’t help smiling with every incoming text. Pidge can be very… creative with her threats regarding what she’ll do to him if he ever scares them like that again.)

(‘I’m just glad you’re alright,’ the text from Shiro comes, a few hours later, and it’s so… simple, it makes something ache behind Keith’s ribs, but he can’t tell if it’s a good ache or a bad one. Maybe it’s a bit of both.)

~

When he hears about the divorce, it feels like a slap to the face, and the guilt that he’d been trying to ignore since that night comes crashing back into him full force.

The fact that he hears about it from Curtis himself only makes it worse.

He’s been on Earth for two days, three months after the ambush, when he runs into the man in the town near the Garrison.

It’s… not awkward, per se, but Keith honestly wishes he could be anywhere else but there.

“So how’s Shiro?” he asks, after a few minutes of pleasantries and more or less catching up. He expects to hear about how the man’s been enjoying retirement, how Curtis has had to put up with Shiro’s latest hobbies.

What he gets instead is a small frown and a “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

For a second, Keith can’t breathe. Then, he swallows past the knot in his throat enough to ask. “What are you talking about? Why should I know how your husband’s doing?” And maybe it comes out a tiny bit harsh, but Keith is suddenly gripped by fear. What if Curtis knows? But he wouldn’t be so pleasant now if he knew, right?

Curtis’ frown turns puzzled. “You… don’t know?” he asks, and there’s something about the way he says it. Like he fully expected Keith to know, whatever it is. “Keith,” he says, gently, “Takashi and I… we’re divorced.”

And for a second, Keith feels like the ground has opened up beneath him and he’s free-falling. Oh Gods, this is his fault, it’s all his-

“When?” he manages to croak out, not able to look Curtis in the face. “Why?”

Curtis shrugs, seemingly unbothered. “We realized we wanted different things. It took him a while to realize and to admit that he still longed for the stars, and he got restless. I just wanted to settle down, maybe have a kid, and put everything space related as far behind us as we could.” He looks to the side, and then up at the sky. “Maybe we rushed, getting married. But well, we were happy, so at least there’s that.” He looks back down at Keith. “We decided to split up when it was clear that what we wanted was different. And I guess, I thought…” He shrugs again. “I thought you’d be the one he went to.”

Keith shakes his head. “I haven’t seen him since- since last year’s Paladin reunion,” he manages to say.

“And he didn’t say anything about it? It’s been almost three years now, I’d have thought he’d have at least told his friends.”

Three years… Shiro’s been divorced for three years and he didn’t say anything…

“Maybe he told the others,” he says, taking a breath. “I missed the reunion around that time, I think, and well… Shiro and I haven’t really talked all that much the past few years. We’ve seen each other two, maybe three times in the past five years. I guess it wasn’t something he felt I should know. To be honest I didn’t even notice if he was still wearing the ring or not.”

We slept together and he didn’t say anything…

Curtis hums, low, and fixes Keith with a searching look. “Well, it’s in the past now. We’re both moving on with our lives. Maybe…” And the look changes into something pensive, considering. “Maybe you should call him. Talk. I’m sure he’ll want to hear from his best friend after so long.”

Keith nods, and later, when he’s back in his designated room at the Garrison, he spends two whole hours agonizing, writing and rewriting a text message to Shiro. Everything he comes up with seems too formal, too stilted, not good enough.

In the end, he settles for a simple, ‘I’m on Earth, at the Garrison for the next week. We should talk.’

He presses send before he can rethink it.

~

They meet two days later, at an old favorite spot of theirs in the desert. A cliff edge at sunset, seems fitting, Keith thinks.

It’s as awkward as he’d expected it to be.

“Hey,” Keith manages, after a long moment of silence.

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro says, a sad smile on his lips. Keith wants to wipe it off his face, though whether with his own lips or with a punch, he’s not yet sure.

“How have you been, Keith?” Shiro asks, after a while, looking out at the horizon. The sun’s only just barely started to sink. “You really scared us a while back.”

“I’m fine,” Keith answers. “I got knocked out pretty hard and it took a while to wake up, but I’m fine now. I told you guys to stop worrying about it.”

Shiro looks at him, and there’s something like disappointment in his gaze. “We’re your friends, your family, Keith, of course we’d worry. You’d worry, too, if it was any one of us.”

And well, he’s got him there. Keith can’t argue with that. He sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But I really am alright.”

“Good.”

For a while, they watch the sunset in silence, and Keith is reminded of days long past, when the most exciting thing in their lives were their hoverbike races and the prospect of one day going to another planet.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks eventually, when he can’t hold his curiosity in check anymore. “You could have told me.”

“Told you what?”

“About the divorce, Shiro.”

“Oh. That.”

The simple, off-hand way Shiro says it, makes Keith bristle. It’s a rare thing, him being angry with Shiro, but he is now. “’Oh, that’ he says like I haven’t been a stressed mess for the past year about you cheating on your husband with me.”

Shiro snorts, sighs, and looks out at the sun. It’s halfway set by now. “It’s not like you actually gave me a chance to say anything, Keith. ‘Go back to your husband’? Is how you put it? When you left me alone after we spent the night together?”

Keith’s cheeks burn at the reminder. Still, his anger won’t be assuaged. “You could have said something before that. Hell, I wouldn’t know right now if I hadn’t bumped into Curtis a few days ago.”

That makes Shiro look at him. “You saw Curtis?”

Keith frowns. “Ran into him in town. That’s not the point. He told me about why you divorced. You could have told me you wanted to travel again. I could have-“

“What? You could have what, Keith? Dropped everything and come to my rescue again? You have better things to do. And besides, I thought…” He stops, takes a deep breath, and shakes his head. That rueful smile is back on his face. “I thought I’d tell you at the reunion, but we got drunk before I got around to it, and… well, you know what happened after that. And after the way you left, I couldn’t say anything.”

“You should have told me,” Keith insists, though without any fire behind it now.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says. “I guess, we both should have handled that better.”

Keith looks at him, sees the regret, the sadness, the care, in Shiro’s eyes and breathes out, long, soft. Leans over and rests his forehead against Shiro’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, too, for running away,” he whispers. “I thought I was doing the right thing, giving you an out if you didn’t remember, and not being there to face the reality of your infidelity if you did. And…” He swallows. It’s hard to admit. “I was afraid. I’d wanted that for so long, for years and years, and I knew I could never have it, have you, not really… I was afraid of your disappointment, of yet another rejection… so I took the coward’s way out.”

“We’re both idiots,” Shiro says, eventually, and Keith can’t help the startled snort of laughter bubbling out of him.

“I guess we are.”

It doesn’t surprise him when Shiro wraps his arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer, though he doesn’t expect it. It’s gentle, and it warms him to his core. After everything, they can still sit here, facing the sunset, at ease in each other’s presence and content.  

They still have things to talk about, to clear up, there’s still so much to catch up on, and things that need doing and saying.

But for now, just being here, like this, with Shiro, is enough for Keith to feel happier than he’s been in long, long years.

For now, everything else, the entire universe, can wait.

[satiricalrunner]

#2 The journey cools down in temp but not intesity

When we were rejoined by our bubbly blonde tour guide. She ever soo graciously lead us on a wonderfully sadistic ascent from the 4th level of hell where she left us. Now don’t get this twisted. Coach Queen of the Damned’s workout was still as relentlessly sadist as normal. She just cut a deal with her boy toy to allow us to escape the heat of his fiery pit.   While the temperature outside dropped the workout was just as umm enjoyable. She had us start at a leisurely self paced 10 min warm up. Then she summoned her she devil voice and with 3 words summoned a positive (for her) response “Half Marathon Pace”. We all did as told, sped up and held our paces.  Exactly 10 mins later that voice once again demanded a response “5k Pace”. Yet again from either fear of repercussions or out of our control we speed up again. Legs pumping faster feet pounding into the fire red track.  No one dares to complain for fear of pissing off Satan’s mistress and being sent back down to the 4th level of hell. That voice booms out again 10 mins later “10K Pace” it says. The pace slows breathing slows just a bit. But for being a slower pace this shit seems harder than the last faster 10 mins. As we start to struggle one glances over, careful not to make eye contact, and what do we see? Our joyful blonde guide reveling in her handiwork (some of her best yet). Then piercing the air “Half Marathon Pace last 10 mins”. You can feel the spirit of the group rise just a bit before being crushed under the weight of our tired legs. Only she would dream up this work out that on paper gives us hope of pleasant exercise, but in execution be a perfect blueprint of pain that only the she devil could create and impress upon her PAYING minions. We meet up with our blond headed Jezabel early Sat morning. This day we may be tricked by her, remember the devils greatest trick of convincing the world he didn’t exist?  We get an early morning pep talk and instructions on where to run our 9 miles on a flat scenic course. We ran from Mchenry Row over to just past Fells Point and back along the water. On the way back we see the subtle torcher of running on a flat course. We hopped on the hamstring and claves struggle bus. When this was mentioned a sly wicked smile cracked upon her lips. There it is the she devil can’t hide her true sadistic colors too long under that bubbly blonde mask. Even with the pain and suffering we endure under her direction. She really does give a shit about us. If someone feels sick she offers to help any way she can and stays near that person until they feel better.  She stays until the last person finishes that run to the outer layers of hell. Sunday was actually a wonderful adventure in the woods for 9 miles with Satan’s little blonde assistant. Weather was good, trails were dry, just cruising along. We came across one interesting thing in RED paint on trees out at about the 4.5 mile mark. Ominous messages appeared on some trees. One read “Go back” another “We are watching you” and one even tells us to “Enter here” to a hole in the base of tree.  I thought to myself “good try Satan’s Mistress but not today...not today. You can’t trick me this time.” Ran into fellow trail stompers, said hello, exchanged pleasantries and moved on. We get back, sweat dripping off our asses, but that doesn’t matter as we crack a couple of salty sour beers and down a couple of Recovery gummies. Nothing is better than a salty sour beer after a trail run... nothing.

[spring-emerald]

relationship advice

Summary: Ushijima asks Daichi for some advice. 

Relationships: platonic!UshiDai, KuroDai, UshiMoni

AO3

A few weeks into the captain’s newly made chat group, Daichi receives his first personal message. From Ushijima, no less.

It was a succinct, but quite curious ‘I need your advice on something. Are you free to meet on Saturday afternoon?’ that had him looking at his phone in mild bewilderment.

What sort of advice would Ushijima need from him? What sort of topic could he actually be worthy to ask to have an advice on? Unable to pinpoint something, he runs his schedule for that day in his head, and finds that he’s got some free time to meet up with Ushijima before his dinner plans that night. So he texts him an affirmative, along with a time and a question if Ushijima already has a place in mind.

Ushijima is already sitting in a small table, croissant and green tea latte still untouched, when Daichi arrives in the café they’re meeting at.

“Hello, Ushijima. Sorry you had to wait.” Daichi says, taking his scarf off and hanging at the back of the chair before taking his seat.

“Hello, Sawamura.” Ushijima nods his head. “It’s fine. I just arrived here myself. Would you like to order first?”

“Ah, no,” Daichi waves a dismissing hand in front of him. “I’m good. Thank you.”

They spend a few minutes of sitting silently, the conversation briefly stunted after the pleasantries.

Daichi bites his lips in a sort of a nervous gesture, unaccustomed to being alone with an intimidating person such as Ushijima. He’d never spoken to Ushijima alone, at least not outside the courts. Their interactions so far have been limited inside the realm of volleyball. And while he’d somehow gathered some facets of his personality due to their group chat interactions, it still wasn’t enough to form a complete picture of who Ushijima is outside of the sport and their rivalry as captains.

Then again, Ushijima is the one who asked for his help. He’s the one who approached Daichi to ask for an advice. And as novel and unlikely a notion that is, here they are.

“So…” he says, unclenching his fist and relaxing his shoulders, giving Ushijima a friendly and encouraging smile. “What concern do you need some advice on?”

Daichi doubts it had something to do with volleyball, that much he was certain. If it was about that, then Ushijima could’ve just asked in the group chat, since they’re all captains there after all, with inclusion of those that aren’t even from Miyagi. And he tried to figure out what it is, ran his mind through possibilities before they’re meeting, but he always comes up short.

Ushijima sits straight and clears his throat. His confidence, while evident in his broad shoulders have a nervous outline on them. Ushijima also seems to be unable to look Daichi straight in the eye, as his gaze keeps flitting around. His nervous energy somehow slightly agitated Daichi.

Finally though, Ushijima seems to have composed himself, and after taking a deep breath, he meets Daichi’s gaze head on. “I need some advice about romantic relationships, Sawamura.”

Daichi starts to slowly nod, before it clicks. He blinks at Ushijima.

“Uhm, what?”

“Out of all the captains in our group, I have confidence that you will be the most helpful and understanding. Kuroo would have been a good one too, but he’s not nearby.”

“Alright, hold on,” Daichi puts a hand up to stop Ushijima from continuing, shaking his head as if the action is meant to help clear his thoughts. All he got for it was a small spell of self-inflicted dizziness.

“I just- you need some… relationship advice?” He says slowly, frowning a bit while trying to wrap his mind around what Ushijima just said.

Ushijima, for his part, only graciously nods his head. “I do. I suppose it is rather odd request.”

Daichi is clearly taken aback. “Oh no.” he vigorously shakes his head and waves his hands. “No, it’s not odd. Sorry. I didn’t mean to- It’s not odd.” He says with finality, ending his flustered response. “But I’d have to say that it’s quite… unexpected.”

“I suppose it is.” Ushijima replies, his lips quirking a bit higher on one side of his cheeks. How Daichi was able to tell, he’s not sure. He just thinks that Ushijima’s smile just got wider. Now, seeing Ushijima like this, far from his terrifying volleyball persona but like a normal teenager asking someone else for relationship advice, and looking all happy about it, makes him see Ushijima in a new, friendlier light.

“May I ask who it is?” Call Daichi a gossip, but he couldn’t help himself. Ushijima must really like this person, if his expression is to go by. Daichi is feeling his second hand excitement, one he thinks Ushijima doesn’t realize he is actually showing.

Ushijima pauses, clearly hesitating as he fidgets with the fork. “It’s Moniwa-kun.” He soon admits, rather bashfully, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Suffice to say, Daichi’s eyes widened and his jaws dropped. In a really excited, old lady who caught the latest gossip, kind of way. “Moniwa?” He says, beaming wide. He doesn’t mean to tease, but it doesn’t help that Ushijima’s cheeks darkened. “I have a lot of questions. When, why, and how? And did you tell him already?”

Daichi belatedly realizes that in his excitement, he’s already half-up his seat, in favor of getting up on Ushijima’s space just so he can hear everything once he starts spilling the beans. To which he promptly backed off, chastising himself at how he let Suga influence him like this.

“Ah,” Ushijima’s expression falls, so did Daichi’s beam. “That is what I would like to ask advice on, Sawamura.”

“Which one? How to confess?”

Ushijima tilts his head unsurely. “Well, more than that, I would like to know, if you think it’s worth pursuing?” His eyebrows are knit in the middle of his forehead, looking a bit lost more than confused.

Daichi is so close to screaming that yes, it definitely is, but a part of him thinks that Ushijima’s concern is greater than that. He doesn’t think that Ushijima actually needs his opinion about whether or not to confess to Moniwa, since he can tell that Ushijima likes their fellow captain plenty enough, to actually admit it to someone else in the first place.

But… he needs to make sure.

“Okay… When you say ‘worth pursuing’, does it mean the act of confessing, like your way of telling Moniwa that you like him, or the getting together part?”

Ushijima looks thoughtful for a moment, then “Telling him wouldn’t be a problem for me. I think the part where we get together concerns me more.” He looks at Daichi earnestly.

Daichi has to bite down on his lips, just to hold off the smile threatening to show on his face. He likes the confidence Ushijima has in that he’s sure that he likes Moniwa enough to actually confess to him.

“Why does it concern you?” He asks instead.

“I think its common knowledge that as a National Player, playing volleyball takes a high priority. Especially now, that we’re about to graduate from high school, most of my time would be spent practicing with the U-19 National Team, and I would have to be with them to play overseas games.”

Daichi nods empathically, somehow fitting the puzzle pieces together. Now it makes sense why Ushijima also mentioned Kuroo. But he doesn’t say anything and lets Ushijima finish his speaking out his thoughts first.

“And from what I always assumed about the way relationship works, is that people would have to be physically together. But if my situation is the way it is, being physically together would be quite a challenge.”

“Are you scared that Moniwa’s going to reject your confession because of it?” Daichi asks in a low voice, trying to gauge more of Ushijima’s feelings.

Ushijima stays silent for a moment, leaning back on his chair. “I think a part of me might be. I always thought that if he ever rejects me because of that reason, I didn’t think I could say anything else, even though I have every intention of making it work.

“But then, I got to know about you and Kuroo, and the way you are apart, but in a relationship. It made me realize that there might a way, or that we would not be so different after all. And that perhaps,” Ushijima looks at Daichi apologetically, “I can use the two of you as an example. Perhaps it’s presumptuous of me to ask this, even though I have still yet to let Moniwa know about my feelings and there’s no assurance that he feels the same for me but, I always believe in being prepared.”

Daichi nods again. “Is that what you need advice on? You’d like to know how Kuroo and I make our long distance relationship work.”

“If you’re inclined to share, Sawamura.”

Daichi smiles at him gently. “I don’t mind,” he says, relaxing on the chair. “Where do I begin?” He rubs the back of his neck. “Well, to be completely honest with you, Ushijima, long distance relationships, it really is challenging to maintain. And it’s not for everybody, and arrangements differ for every couple.” He shrugs halfheartedly.

“I mean, even I didn’t think that I would be in one. I didn’t really see myself being in one, you know. But I guess, the person counts? I never really entertained the notion, but then I met Kuroo. And we somehow found ourselves attracted to each other, and somehow have fallen in love over morning texts and late night calls. When we met again, we talked about. That’s when I realized that I want to try. And I keep trying, because of Kuroo. For Kuroo. It helps that I can see that he’s trying and keeps on trying, for me too.”

Ushijima sees the way Daichi tries to make it seem inconsequential, but he sses how he lit up, how he glowed when he talks about Kuroo, and he couldn’t help but feel happy for them. He can see how much Daichi cares for Kuroo, and somehow wishes that, when he succeeds, Moniwa could think fondly of him like this too.

“Was it difficult?”

“Oh yes it was. At the beginning, it didn’t seem like it. Because we thought, how different would it be from what we usually did? We only just made things official. We can just continue texting each other good morning and send each other stuff in between. Our nightly calls upgraded to video calls, and we don’t have to be careful when it comes to flirting. It was good and all that.

“But you don’t just get into a relationship and only share and talk about good things. We both have gone through some rough times, respectively, and that’s when it hit us, that being apart, is hard. I can’t physically comfort him, and he can’t do the same. We can see each other’s tired and frustrated faces in our screens, but we can’t do anything about it. It just makes us sadder. We… felt helpless, at one point. So we decided to meet up, every last Saturday of the month, alternately visiting each other.

“It’s a good thing that we’re both stubborn, I guess.” Daichi says with a light chuckle. “Anyway, I must be boring you, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble.”

“You are not.” Ushijima shakes his head. “If anything, it’s really admirable. The two of you are admirable.”

Daichi ducks his head, a slight blush on his face. “We’re not doing anything special.” He sheepishly rubs his nose. “Anyway, for what it’s worth, we have my going to university in Tokyo to look forward to.”

“Congratulations, Sawamura.”

“Thank you. Alright, enough about us. Let’s go back to you and Moniwa. Definitely, your situation will be much different from ours. I mean, Kuroo and I, we’re still both in the same country. But yours is going to be more challenging, since you’re gonna be overseas.” Daichi doesn’t want to be the one to say this, but it’s better for Ushijima to truly understand what he’s wanting to get into, what he and Moniwa will get into. Oh god, he’s rooting for them to get together now.

“I understand as much, Sawamura. But if I have learned something from your experience, it’s that if we both keep trying, and if we both are willing to make it work and make it last, as long as we both do that, then I think we will be fine.” Ushijima smiles sincerely, and it takes Daichi aback a bit, before he gives a genuine one of his own.

“Yeah, I think you two will be. When do you plan to confess anyway?”

“Tonight,” Ushijima declares without hesitation. It’s a good thing that Daichi wasn’t drinking, didn’t have one, in the first place, because if he did, he might have spitted it out in surprise.

“Don’t you think that’s too hasty?”

“I actually felt that I have been waiting long enough. And besides, I’d like to spend as much time with him as I can, before we have to be separated.”

Daichi mulls over then, then just shrugs. It’s not like he could argue with that logic. Besides, Ushijima seems like he’s completely made his mind about it. “You’re really confident that he’ll accept your confession,” he teases good-naturedly.

Ushijima actually, honest-to-god chuckles. “I can be persuasive when I am determined.”

“Well, good luck with that, Ushijima. I wish you all the best.” Daichi offers a hand for Ushijima to shake, which he takes.

“Likewise, Sawamura. Thank you very much.”

     OMAKE:

They’re walking in relative silence, when Daichi takes Kuroo’s hand and laces their fingers tight.

“Thank you, Tetsu,” Daichi says.

Kuroo looks down at him. “It’s just cheap ramen, but you’re welcome.”

Daichi chuckles and elbows him lightly. “It’s delicious ramen, despite being cheap. Be glad I’m not high maintenance. But I don’t mean that.”

“Well, to what do I owe your thanks then?”

Daichi hums, before he stops walking and faces Kuroo, looking up at him and stares deeply in his eyes. “For not giving up on us.”

Kuroo is stunned silent, but gathers his bearings quick enough. “What’s in that ramen?” Daichi rolls his eyes with a snort and attempts to leave, but Kuroo’s quick to pull him back. He squeezes Daichi’s hand, before he takes the other and laces them together as well. “Wait, sorry. We we’re having a moment,” he says, biting his lips, seemingly chastised.

Daichi is used to Kuroo cracking jokes in times like this, just so he can have time to process his feelings, so he squeezes Kuroo’s hands in return.

“Thank you too, for holding on, Daichi.” He says softly, before leaning in closer to Daichi, and resting his forehead against his.

It will never cease to amuse Daichi that despite Kuroo being the most affectionate between the two of them, he’s also the one who blushes fiercely when it comes to saying what they really feel.

All the same, Daichi loves him for it.

---

Under the same night sky, Ushijima finally says the words that he could only hope expressed the depth and scope of his affection for Moniwa.

“Are you serious?” Moniwa asks him, looking at him like he’s some kind of an otherworldly being.

“I am, Moniwa.”

Moniwa smiles brightly at him, before he launches himself across Ushijima and gives him a tight hug.

“Yes, of course! Yes!”

Ushijima wraps his arms around him tight, happiness swelling in chest. They’ll be fine, he thinks.

They’re both grounded by their hug, but their hearts are soaring.

[fayewonglibrary]

CHEEK TO CHEEK, FACE TO FAYE (1998)

An encounter with the Chinese pop reclusive iconoclast has never been easy to come by. Andy Chen scores a coup in Hong Kong as he makes close contact with the relaxed superstar in her usually off-limit Tsimshatsui office.  

The heat is on. Faye Wong’s releasing a new album and 8 DAYS has been granted an exclusive interview with her. That’s if she doesn’t get temperamental on us at the last minute. No, make that the last second. Consider this: when was the last time the Southeast Asian media was granted a face-to-face interview with the notoriously withdrawn wunderkind?

This is the 29-year-old superstar whose relationship with the press has been less than salubrious. The Faye who’s been known to trade insults with hecklers at her concerts, who answers questions in monosyllables and fires sarcastic ripostes at nosey scribes, and who has declared cold war against the Hong Kong media (after they splashed photos of her performing sanitation duties). The Faye who’s willfully gone against the grain of what’s expected of Cantopop’s cardboard cut-out stars: she won’t smile or spout inane pleasantries just to butter up tabloid reporters.

This is the Faye I’ve been tasked to coax into opening up. Mine was a heart that skipped a couple of beats, then another couple more. This being the sole interview given to an English publication in Singapore, there’s no room for mistakes. I mean, what if the interview falls through? What if she gets cranky and sews her lips shut? What if she ups and shows me a clean pair of heels? What if, what if…?

Before the face-to face was penciled in, there’d been much to-ing and fro-ing between Faye’s record company and us. First, we were told to fax our questions to EMI’s Hong Kong office for Faye to record her answers on a tape which would be sent to us. Later, it was to be a phone interview.

But when EMI learned that we were going to be in Hong Kong the week she, too, was to be there, the possibility of an exclusive was raised. After a flurry of phone calls, we were instructed to fax a list of proposed questions for Faye’s approval. They also recommended that we submit as many questions as possible so Faye won’t abort the interview prematurely because of any surprise query. Like I said, no worries, eh?

Is it really possible to have a journalistic tête-à-tête with Faye? We had our doubts. After all, here’s a pop star so elusive she could give American author-cum-recluse J D Salinger a run for his media phobia. Faye’s mastered the art of playing hard to get, so she’s been accused.  Before I leave for Hong Kong, my editor-in-chief wishes me good luck and tells me to call her the moment the interview’s done - or not done, as the case may be. We’re taking nothing for granted until after the very bites of Faye’s voice are secured on tape.

It’s 6.50pm. An EMI rep is supposed to have picked me up at the hotel 20 minutes ago. Has Faye changed her mind? I cross my fingers so hard they turn blue. Five minutes later, the van arrives. 8 DAYS’ stylist and photographer, who’re in Hong Kong for other assignments, tag along for a glimpse of this celebrity enigma. After a short journey through heavy peak-hour traffic, we’re led to a nondescript grey office block on the outskirts of Tsimshatsui. The lift takes us up to the 12th floor. A sign on the door reads ‘A Production House’ - it’s the company Faye set up with producer Alvin Leong and manager Katie Chan. Stepping into the crammed office, I uncross my fingers slightly.

There Faye is, already seated inside a room cluttered with files, cabinets and pieces of hi-fi equipment, throwing us a curious look. Catching sight of this beauteous creature with a mystique of unicorn-like proportions, I find my knees turning to jello. On the brighter side, I feel the blood returning to my fingers. Chances are good that the interview will come to pass. Faye’s lithe 1.72m figure is clad in a comfy plain brown t-shirt, blue jeans and a pair of electric pink Converse All-Stars. Her straight, red-tinted hair ends just above her shoulders. There is not a trace of make-up on her elfin visage, out of which peers her bright, sparkling eyes. Her flawless fair skin has a translucence that’s radiant. Faye is, in a word, sublime.

That she’s not togged up fussily for an official press interview she reportedly dislikes so very much must be a good sign, no? The casual homeliness of her outfit suggests a relaxed Faye, in contrast to the hairnet defensiveness of last year.

Spying the notes in my hands, Faye gasps slightly bemused, “Wah, so thick! Are there many questions?” Taken aback by the gentleness of her soft lilting speaking voice, I find my opening banter catching in my throat. Still, the walls of silence and non-cooperation she normally erects to keep out intrusive tabloid hacks seem to be missing. Slowly snuffing out the butterflies in my tummy, I ask if she’s seen the list of questions I had faxed over. She shakes her head. Apparently, her notoriety is based as much on truth as it is on myth. Things are starting to look up. My fingers loosen up and begin to take notes.

I wouldn’t have guessed that the Faye I’m about to encounter is thoughtful, open (but don’t hold your breath for details about her private life) and funny. I couldn’t have hoped for more. Maybe playing mummy to Dou Jingtong, her 20-month-old daughter with Beijing musician Dou Wei, has mellowed her attitude towards the press?

“It’s not a question of mellowing, I haven’t refused to co-operate with the media just because I’ve become more popular. Sections of the Hong Kong media are unreasonable and that’s why I don’t want to have anything to do with them,” she asserts.

“I’m definitely not against them if they’re interested in my work. What turns me off is that there’s no limit to the extent they would hound me. Some other entertainers may think that answering questions about their private lives is a part of the job and can’t be avoided. However, I feel I must draw the line somewhere. I can’t help it if they resort to all ways and means to take pictures of me; but under such circumstances, there’s no way I can bring myself to co-operate with them. Right now, however, I’m quite happy to be doing this interview.”

Faye’s salvo against the paparazzi and tabloid-mongers confirms what I’ve suspected all along: keep the line of questioning to her music, respect her privacy and you’ll be okay. The problems arise when people want a toll-free highway ride into Faye’s innermost sanctuaries. A public figure by default, she’s more a music-lover who hadn’t expected her star to go supernova.    

“No matter how much my supporters love and know my songs, there’ll always be that distance between them and me. There’s no way they’ll fully understand me. As long as they love my songs, it’s good enough for me,” Faye says, stretching out to tap the singed tip of her Marlboro menthol into an ashtray with her long, slender index finger. Now and then, she turns to look at her close friend and make-up guru, Zing, who’s ensconced in a chair to her left. You get the feeling that she’s relaxed because there’s a familiar face around.

“But I’m not as cold as some people say I am. I hope not,” she laughs a tad shyly. (Wow, a laugh!) “If I’m cold, it’s only to people I’m not familiar with. When people become my friends, I believe I’m rather lively and can get rather …. crazy.” Another self-conscious chuckle escapes her. (A chuckle!) Zing, who’s Singaporean, concurs that she’s actually a very warm person who just happens to be brutally honest. “She’s someone who’d rather risk offending you than lie to you. Once, she tried to tell a white lie but failed miserably.”

It’s clear Faye - 'Ah-Fei’ to those close to her - surrounds herself only with people she trusts and who reciprocate her sincerity. So there’s little chance of being hurt, misunderstood or misrepresented. For a woman as guileless as a babe-in-the-woods, who says what she thinks and acts on how she feels, the importance of a coterie of confidantes can’t be over-emphasized. A quick survey of her recent album sleeves betrays a line-up of usual suspects: Leong, Chan, Zing, composer Zhang Yadong, photographer Cheung Man Wah, image designers Ti Ti Kwan and Thomas Chan, hairstylist Elaine Wong, and, of course, hubby, Dou Wei.

“If we [she and her collaborators] couldn’t get along, then we wouldn’t have stuck together for so long that we’ve all become friends. Perhaps people may assume we hold endless meetings to plan an album, but we’re actually very easy-going, very relaxed. Our taste and thoughts about music - among other things - tends to be quite similar. That’s why there’s no real need to talk about it. When Zhang Yadong writes a song for me, I’d almost certainly like it. When I record an album, I never consciously plan a style. I just follow my instincts.”

There in lies Faye’s problem. Not that her insouciance is a problem, but it’s the reason why many critics and fans alike can’t figure her out. Artful dodger, master manipulator, sly schemer - Faye’s often mistaken for all of the above. Truth is, Faye’s a simple Beijing lass with Teresa Teng in her heart and playfulness in her soul. Playing hard to get? More like just playing, period. Never mind that she’s a mum, all she wants to do is have some fun. “I love to play. As long as it’s a game. I love to play it. Like mahjong - does that count?”

Her inquisitive, opalescent eyes frequently hold my gaze with equanimity. I even detect a hint of liveliness, but that may be too much to ask for. I’ve known her only a few minutes, and I’m still a reporter.

Laid-back as she is, it’s hardly a surprise that Faye has few words about her new album, entitled Chang You (a clever pun that roughly translates to Songs of Wanderlust).

“Convey what kind of message? I’ve no real message that I wanted to convey. Actually….” she sighs ever so softly, “how do I put this? Whenever I start working on an album, I never have anything concrete to convey. I’m only concerned with producing a good album. If I’m able to have more involvement in the making of an album, that’d be ideal. But at this point, I’m not yet able to record an album that’s written entirely by me. Ideally … when music is purely an interest and not my work, I might be able to do so.”

“That’s why making music poses me such a conflict. Music is my work. To me, music is essentially not a product. It shouldn’t be, but it’s become such. Naturally, I feel conflicted. This paradox is difficult to resolve. Maybe there’ll come a time when I’m not signed to any record company and will record albums purely for interest’s sake - and with financial security in place - that’ll be when I’d be really happy.” she chuckles again, not unaware how unglamorously practical this sounds.

Faye doesn’t hide the fact that all she wants in life is to be happy. Not unlike her character in Wong Kar-Wai’s Chungking Express who wants to win the affection of a cop played by Tony Leung Chiu Wai and to go to California. Although the singer insists that she’s “very afraid of acting”, she was showered with numerous accolades near and far (nominated in Taipei for Best Actress and won in Stockholm) in what was only her second film role, and had many besotted fans confusing the film’s Faye with the real Faye.

I don’t know about real overlapping reel. All I know is I’m awestruck when Faye turns and presents me with her right profile, the same right profile Chungking’s Faye shows the audience as she hides from Leung on the escalator. Here, sitting not two meters from me, is an iconic movie still coming to life miraculously.

But the Faye sitting across the table isn’t so naive as to believe a sojourn in California - or Paris, the other city she longs to live in - is the be-all and end-all of happiness. Give her some credit: she may be child-like but she’s also wiser than her age suggests.

“I don’t think I’m easily satisfied, but I hope to be. I feel that human beings are not easy to please. Little things are enough to make me happy and unhappy. Like how can you not be happy becoming a mother and looking at your daughter? But these also come with worries and concerns. Humans are basically paradoxical creatures.”

These days, Faye is locked into a lucrative recording deal said to be worth S$10 million (with final artistic say on her output!) in the bag and a lovely daughter to boot. Surely, then, she has found some way to resolve the paradox of human condition? Doesn’t the carefree jollity she expresses in the photos of “Songs’ album sleeves mean she’s quite happy? She won’t be drawn into this directly. "Did you all think Faye Wong doesn’t know how to smile? Wouldn’t that be horrible?” She giggles amidst our hearty laughter. (A giggle!) I might’ve struck gold here. The heavens are smiling on me.

The stylist to my right must be thinking the same thing. Out of the corner of my eyes, I realize he is staring unblinking - and unflinchingly - at the ethereal figure. To quote a pop song, he’s lost in her bewitching eyes. Enchanted. Captivated. Spellbound. Later, during dinner, he can’t stop raving about how bee-ewe-ti-fool Faye is, going so far as to claim no photos can do her justice. Dare I say I concur?

Forty minutes later, my job’s done. “Finished? Thank you, thank you,” she pipes brightly before bounding out of the room. I imagine she’s eager to get back to her playground.

Actually, the pleasure’s all mine.

No, Faye, thank you.

------------------------------------------------------------------

GET THAT NAME RIGHT:

Faye Wong, one of GQ magazine’s 50 coolest women in 1996 and reigning Empress of Chinese popdom, in both name and acclaim. Idiosyncrasies aside, Faye is arguably the most influential Asian pop music figure in recent memory. Do you see SC or even JC-the man dubbed god of songs on the cover of Time magazine? And who else has so much clout in the shamelessly commercial industry of pop as to release an album containing nary a handful of intelligible lyrics in 35 minutes of music (1996 Exasperation)? No one else with her degree of commercial success (to date, her albums have raked up sales of about 10 mil) has been as non-conformist as Faye. Not in East Asia anyway.

------------------------------------------------------------------

SOURCE:  8 DAYS  

[themiddlelayer]

It’s Just a Fantasy...

As Billy Joel sang, “...it’s not the real thing. Sometimes a fantasy is all you need!”

Jersey got in touch again today. It was 5 years ago last week that I left the job where we met. He managed the factory, I worked in the office. On the surface, he was just this hot Italian guy in jeans and flannel shirts who made me feel like a silly schoolgirl with a crush whenever I saw him walk by. I had no idea at the time, but there was so much more to him.

On my last day of work he stopped by my desk and handed me his card. He seemed to stammer, “Um, if you need a reference or something” His cell number was hand-written on the back. I remember holding onto that card until it was soft from my sweaty palms... I felt like I had to hide it, even though MM and I were non-monogamous. I felt like I had to hide the goofy grin that kept coming up... the embarrassing blush... and I finally got the nerve up to write my number down to give him. It took me another few minutes to work up the courage to try to bring it to him in his office. I honestly don’t remember if I actually gave it to him before I left. I think I did, but he later said that he lost it so he was glad I messaged him.

Somehow we started chatting shortly after. My memory is awful... I’m remembering an awkward kiss goodbye in the parking lot of the Mill that had the bar/restaurant I’d go on dates at. He seemed afraid to actually kiss me properly... because he is married. 

At the time, he was living in MD and his wife and son were back in New Jersey. Apparently he had lived apart from them quite a bit over the years. I was really trying to behave myself and keep my non-monogamy ethical. MM and I actually had more than one tense conversation about him because he was a cheater. 

I moved to AZ and he continued to just pop up from time to time like people tend to do with me. The more we chatted, the more enamored I became. Mr. Hot Italian in Flannel is a volunteer firefighter, an artist... a painter, and a DJ. He would play rooftop parties in NYC and things like that. Big deal parties with big paychecks. 

He talked about being hit on by one of my favorite artists, Keith Haring, when he hung out at the Paradise Garage or “Gay-rage” as it was called. We talked about his love of Jean-Michel Basquiat and the art he wanted to make. 

Our conversations always woke up this part of me that just wanted to be more, create more, live more. 

Last time he surfaced, he was talking about whether to move out of the suburbs and to a beach town or back to the city. He’s never outright said that he’s not happy at home, but all he has ever talked about is running away from it. His son was the only part of his ‘real life’ that he ever talked about, and he’s in college now. 

From time to time, he’d talk about meeting up in Vegas for a weekend or him coming to Arizona because he’s never been here. Today when we were chatting we talked about Sedona. He sent me a link to a beautiful resort where he said a friend of his stayed. We talked about driving into Mexico together, just because I’ve been here almost 5 years and haven’t crossed the border. I told him about Bisbee... an old mining town that’s a crazy mix of hippies and real life ranchers where ghost hunter shows like to come. 

He said, “Who knows, if I come out there I may never leave... sounds enticing.” And he asked if there’s a volunteer fire department in my town. He even followed up on that saying that his certs are ‘pro board’ so they will transfer from state to state. It’s just a fantasy... oh, oh, oh, oh... (Billy Joel again) But what a fantasy it is! 

I wish I knew what it is about Jersey. We literally had 2 dates-ish. We worked at the same address, but barely spoke beyond the pleasantries and work-stuff during the staff lunches in the conference room. I only learned that he was married and that she’s Puerto Rican with the stereotypical hot latin temper when he brought something to work that she’d cooked. 

Whatever it is, it’s mutual. Today he said, “You have always been fuel for my soul... can’t explain it... the paths we have taken are different but the emotion is parallel. If that makes any sense.”  And it totally does in that I feel it, but it makes no sense whatsoever. 

That’s a thing with me that I’ve never been able to find the root of. When someone clicks, they just click. There is no halfway with my feelings. 

The Mad Scientist is a prime example of that. We only dated as a triad of sorts with MM for a few months, then the two of us for a few more weeks or so. During those times, we didn’t see each other often and I really knew very little about his day to day life. I only went to his house once the entire time. He had a pot-bellied pig named Hibiscus Tea aka ‘Hibby’ at the time, and I saw a massage table set up in a half-room of sorts off the foyer and felt jealous for no good reason. And I was so in love with him. 

I know the thing that happened with him... he looked me in the eyes and called me by my name in bed. It was a kind of intimacy I’d never experienced, and have only had with one other partner since, Nomad. Just talking about it makes my heart flutter. 

Part of me wants to reach out to him... to see if he’s happy and make sure he knows I still think of him often... and it makes smile. But I know better. What if he’s not happy? Or what if he is, but hearing from me brings stuff up for him? Or the ultimate what if that’s always been in the back of my mind... what if he meant more to me than I meant to him? Ugh.

Whatever the case, fantasy is all I’ve got right now. That’s something else that Jersey and I talked about.... the virus. He’s been helping EMT’s and fire duty has been busy because of people setting fires in their kitchen more often. He’s been quarantined other than fire duty for a week now and said that ‘people are dying left and right’ out there. 

The fantasy now is once this virus thing is over and we can get back to normal life...Once they find a vaccine and it’s safe to travel again...

But part of me feels like there will never be normal life like it once was. Between the economic crash, the hoarding, the lack of concrete information because of limited testing, all of the unknown and the panic it’s induced... 

Even if the country... the world... finally goes back to being ‘open for business’ as the commander-in-tweet kept talking about, it won’t be the same. Lots of people are saying that it’s for the best that it won’t be the same. That we have the chance to build something better. But that kind of rebuilding, no matter what it ends up looking like, takes a long time. 

I’m afraid this will become my normal... that I won’t ever get out there and date again. I’m afraid that I’m a couple cats away from being that sad, old cat lady everyone looks at and wonders... what happened to her? Only nobody could look at me because I’m such a reclusive hermit that seeing me outside my apartment is limited to when I check my mail and the days I tote my laundry to Cookie’s and try to feel some sense of family and belonging again. 

Fuck that got morbid. 

Time for me to attempt sleep... and look for a pair of pantyhose. I’m allowing Faust to Dom me without being my Dom. It’s a weird balancing act, but having some accountability and direction feels good. I’ll roll with it. 

[coleymari-blog]

A War Fought at Home : Chapter 6

Corporal Natsu Dragneel has been through Hell, and unfortunately for him, the ride isn’t quite over. How will a new Rehab program at the local VA help? And will a certain blonde help make matters better?

Modern Military AU. Warnings for mentions of depression and adult language/situations. Other warnings to come as the story progresses. Cross post on AO3 and FF.net.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 

“--THE FUCK?! So you just offered up our house?!”

In all honesty, Gray had every right to be upset. It wasn't like Natsu had given away the last of their beer or something, he'd offered their spare bedroom to a seemingly random college girl! The two Marines had at one time discussed the possibility of renting out that room sometime in the future, but that plan had always been dependent on Natsu and his progress.

“If I didn't, she'd have to drop out and move back to Acalypha, Ice Dick,” Natsu replied as he wheeled himself over to the sink to drop his dishes in the sink, his voice taking on a somewhat whiny tone against his will. At least he had waited until they were home to drop the bomb. He had brought it up over dinner, initially causing the Sergeant to choke on his pasta, but eventually Gray had gathered enough rage to just let Natsu have it.

“And this is our problem how…?” Gray snapped, immediately beginning to wash the dishes, handing the dripping ones down to Natsu for drying.

“Because she's nice and deserves help?” What else was he supposed to say? Oh, she needs to move in with us so I don't have to say goodbye to the one female that doesn't look at me like a puppy in a cone collar? Natsu shook his head and sighed. “Come on. It's only for a year until she graduates.” He racked his brain for any other argument he could muster. A thought came to mind but it was the cheapest move in the book. “Maybe she has cute friends that like guys in uniform?”

Gray huffed grumpily as he continued to wash the same plate he’d be working on for the past couple minutes. Natsu could tell that his best friend was more upset by Natsu’s single minded decision making than he was by the prospect of Lucy moving in. All Natsu had to do was find the right switch to flip and Lucy would have the green light. When Gray finally handed off his plate, he looked down at Natsu and cocked his head to the side slightly, as if trying to read the other Marine like a book. A moment passed before Gray spoke again, his gaze falling in defeat. “You know we’ll have to actually keep this place clean then, right?”

YES! Natsu thanked his roommate rapidly before speeding off for his room to grab his phone. He happily shot a text off to Lucy before he heaved himself out of his chair and flopped onto his bed. Folding his sculpted arms underneath his head, the salmon-haired Marine breathed in deeply before allowing himself to sink further into his mattress, but not before his face lit up with the biggest shit eating grin he had ever donned. Lucy moving in meant that he’d get to see her every day, eat meals with her, watch movies together, everything he craved to do with her but couldn't in the capacity he really desired. But if he didn't stand a chance to be her boyfriend, at least he could be her favorite roommate. With the fantasy of Lucy running through his mind, of her hips swaying down his hallway, casting the sweetest smile over her shoulder as she shut her door for the night, Natsu let sleep overcome him.

The next morning, he woke up surprisingly refreshed. No nightmares, no cold sweats, nothing. All that awaited him were a million grateful texts from Lucy and the sounds of Gray already hard at work fixing up the spare room. Natsu could hear his best friend shuffling boxes down the hall, stopping in the living room, and back again for the next load. Maybe they could use him and his chair like a dolly. At least they’d get done quicker.

The Marine hoisted himself into his wheelchair, not bothering to change out of his standard-issue sweatpants and tanktop. He immediately rolled out into the hall and over to the doorframe in order to watch Gray work. Surprisingly there wasn’t much left to do. The furniture from when they moved in was again visible instead of being buried under duty bags and old boxes. There was a metal bookcase in the back corner that Natsu knew Lucy would appreciate, a full bed situated in the middle of the back wall beneath a large uncovered window that opened up to their spacious (and rarely occupied) backyard. The matching dresser was covered in an inch-thick layer of dust but was beautiful nonetheless. Gunny had made them himself but they’d never really been used by the boys. Gray had his own furniture from before he moved in and Natsu had to replace all his with medical grade equipment after his accident. The only time the pinket remembered the room being used at all was when his sister Wendy had come to visit shortly after he had returned home.

“Nice of you to join me, Asshole,” Gray muttered as he stripped away his t-shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow. He threw a semi-empty box over by the door right next to Natsu’s feet. “We gotta start going through this bullshit. She has to move in before the First, right?”

Natsu grinned devilishly as he leaned over, grabbed the box, and dropped it in his lap. He didn’t even want to fight Gray about the teasing, reveling in the normalcy of it all. Most people would have taken offense to being called something derogatory but to Natsu and Gray, it was nothing more than pet names between brothers. Over the past couple months, as Natsu grew stronger, Gray acted more normal by the day. At first, it started off with small things like not doing every little thing for him and eventually grew to include the hurling of casual insults. If he was being honest, Natsu had to admit that it raised his spirits a bit, but not nearly as much as the prospect of Lucy moving in with them.

Looking down into his lap, he noticed the cardboard box contained the remnants of his Service days. Pictures of his teams, medals and commendations, the works. Before he knew it, another box was being added on top of the first, almost completely obstructing his sight in all directions. “Yup, she’ll have to start moving in here in about two weeks,” he replied as he carefully rolled back to his room and dropped the mementos in the corner. Natsu brushed off the dust off his sweats before heading back to the other room. “You sure you’re okay shacking up with a girl?”

Gray hopped up and sat on top of the dresser, leaning back against the wall. “Nah, it’s just a year right?” he scoffed while staring up at the white popcorn ceiling. “And having a chick around might not be such a bad thing. This place could use a serious ‘feminine touch’.” Both Marines laughed at the slight truth in Gray’s statement before he jumped down and made his way to his bedroom next door. He quickly headed for the shower, managing to lose his basketball shorts somewhere between the two, and left Natsu alone to take in the sight of the now empty room. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to imagine what Lucy’s room might look like. The empty beige walls were suddenly covered in all sorts of photos, the bed draped with her favorite starry quilt. She would probably need some kind of desk for her writing, but he still had his that was hardly ever used. The twinkling sounds of his cell phone ringing dragged the veteran out of his daydreaming and forced him back into the real world.

Wheeling into his room, Natsu groaned when he found his former teammate calling. A picture of the orange-maned, playboy wiggled over the screen before Natsu actually forced himself to pick up, mainly just to make it stop. “Yo, Leo, what’s up Brother?” he murmured, trying to sound asleep. One could only hope he’d be spared if Loke thought he’d interrupted something.

“Salamander, tonight the boys and I are going out since the Dragon Twins are back from their last Tour,” the other Marine slurred as if he’d already started ‘celebrating’. “Grab the Ice Princess and meet us at this bar downtown called Fairy Tail. No one has seen your ugly ass in ages.”

Natsu feigned amusement. “I’ll relay the message, but you guys can make complete fools of yourselves without me thanks.” While he knew he probably should go, mostly because of Gildarts’ relentless nagging in the back of his mind, that didn’t mean he necessarily wanted to go. Seeing the boys would be great if they didn’t want to go somewhere like a downtown hotspot. It’s not like they were the most handicapable places in the world.

Loke’s whining made Natsu yank the phone off his ear. “Come on man, I’m being serious.” A small huff came through the line after silence had fallen between the two brothers-in-arms. “At least think about it? Everyone would really like to see you, Boss.”

Eventually Natsu conceded to the augmented request. “I make no promises.” And that was that. Rushed goodbyes left the pinket alone once more to wallow in his thoughts.

Could it really be so bad?

Hours later, once night had fallen over Magnolia, Gray and Natsu trudged their way up to the line waiting outside the newest hub for local nightlife. After some heated debates and multiple decision changes, the two ultimately dressed and headed out to meet their Squad mates. The group of Marines wasn’t exactly difficult to spot, the four of them sticking out like well-postured thumbs. Natsu immediately made out Loke and the ‘twins’ better known as Sting and Rogue. The two riflemen had grown up together, enlisted together, and served together, earning them the familial title. Gajeel held up the rear, grinning menacingly as the two joined the group. They all shared their raucous pleasantries before they were finally admitted to the club.

At least the monstrosity had one benefit. Due to Natsu’s wheelchair, the staff of Fairy Tail bumped them up to first class so that the group could have access to the booths. There was a ramp up onto the raised platform hidden on the side of the main room and the six of them quickly found their way to their table.

“First round is on me, boys!” Loke exclaimed, trying to be heard clearly over the booming music. And before anyone could stop him, the redhead was weaving through the crowds to get to the bar. The rest of them settled down and began catching up, sharing the highlights of what had happened in the past year and a half. When Loke returned, not only was he carrying a tray full of glasses and a bottle of firewhiskey, he was also smirking in his trademark fashion.

“Check out the pack of babes by the bar,” he instructed as he directed their attention to the bar. Each of them craned their necks in order to get a glance at whoever Loke was talking about. It didn’t take their trained eyes long to find their targets and Natsu felt as if his heart was going to beat out of his chest. Luckily he didn’t have to say anything. Gray did that for him.

“Hey Natsu! Isn’t that Lucy?!” he mocked, wryly sipping his whiskey. She was surrounded by other girls, a couple he recognized from photos she had shown him. Queue the casual ribbing.

Sting, the blonder half of the Twins, soon broke up the teasing as he announced his intentions. “Well, if you guys wanna circle jerk all night, be my guest. I’m going to get to know those girls over there.” His sights turned on Natsu before he downed the rest of his drink. “Wanna introduce me to the hot one?”

Natsu’s world turned red. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to react before Sting was already cutting through the crowd. He sat faithfully and watched as his comrade infiltrated the group, never once gesturing back to the other Marines. However, the longer he made himself watch, the sicker he became. The last thing he saw before finishing off his own drink and excusing himself from his brothers was Sting closing the gap and running his fingers through the very strands of gold that had been haunting Natsu’s dreams for weeks.

Hey y'all! Hope you enjoyed this one. It's a bit of a filler chapter but trust me, you're going to like where this is going. Thank you all for wishing me well these past couple weeks. Thankfully I'm feeling better (mostly) but the stress from normal life is no bueno. I'm thankful I get to come and write here, and that y'all are coming along on the ride with me. :)

[writingfromkitchenator]

Queen of the Crossroads

Masterlist

Chapter 3: Saphriel

Sam and Dean had been trying to fight the apocalypse for months now, they were tired and worn and couldn't think of anything else besides distracting themselves with regular work.  They were also worried.  Sarah wasn't answering any calls or messages, to them or Bobby, and they'd been trying to find her too, wondering if demons or worse had got to her.

It was as they were on their way back to a motel after a successful hunt that their phone called.

Sam answered and put it on speaker.  "Hey Bobby, what's up?"

"So, I may have finally found her."  Bobby said, causing Sam and Dean to share a look.

"Where is she Bobby?"  Dean asked, his hands tightening a little on the wheel.

"A few towns east of where you boys are now, or, at least, she was a couple of days ago."  Bobby sighed.  "Couple of hunters I know ran into her and said she was...off."

"Off?  Off how?"

Sam licked his lips.  "Bobby, you don't think-"

"They offered a drink mixed with holy water.  Nothing happened."  Bobby said.  "So I'm not sure what's going on boys, but I suggest you get over there quick smart.  The hunters said that she was hanging around for a while, but they got out of there as quick as they could, they couldn't handle being around her."

"Sarah's never had that effect on people."  Dean said.  "Dammit, what's she gotten into?"

"I don't know, but I'll meet you boys there if you can keep her there for a day.  I have a feeling you're going to need me."  Bobby's voice was grim and a tense silence fell over them.

Sam clears his throat.  "Alright, thanks Bobby.  If anything changes, we'll let you know."

"Likewise."

"I don't like this Sammy."  Dean said once Sam hung up.  "I mean, we're involved in all this apocalypse crap, it's not a huge assumption to-"

"With who Dean?"  Sam asked, causing Dean to purse his lips.  "I'm not saying you're wrong, but, I mean, we haven't been warned about any other angels involved in this."

"Yeah, well, I still don't like it."  Dean flexed his hands on the wheel again.  "Let's just go see what's wrong and find out why she hasn't been answering our damned calls."

However, when they got to the town, everything appeared normal and there was no sign of Sarah anywhere.  They quickly got a motel room and set about asking if anyone has seen her around town.

Frustrated, no one knowing anything, Sam and Dean waited until Bobby arrived the next day, joining them in a diner.

"No luck I take it?"  The older hunter asked.

"Jack."  Dean replied bitterly.  "You sure these friends of yours are reliable Bobby?"

"They've never let me down before."  Bobby said with a small shrug.  "Plus, because she's been missing, I've had a lot of people keeping an eye out for her, figured it would be better than just constantly trying to call her."

Dean clearly didn't like this, but remained silent.  Sam shared a look with Bobby.

"I'm sure she's fine Dean."  Sam said gently.

"And if she's not?"  Dean asked.  "That's on our heads Sam.  We should've made her join us when we warned her about Lucifer."

Bobby scoffed.  "Yeah, like you could ever make that girl do anything.  Even John had trouble with that."  His gaze softens when he realises just how upset Dean is.  "Look Dean, Sarah is as well trained as us.  I'm sure she's fine and knows exactly what she's doing."

They decided to do another ask around the town, meeting back at the motel a couple of hours later at the motel when they all came up empty handed.

"The hunters can't have been the only ones to have seen her dammit."  Dean growls as he waits for Sam to open the door.  "No one is that good at hiding."

Sam steps inside first and freezes.

Sarah sits casually on one of the beds, reading a magazine, glancing up at Sam when he opens the door and smiling.  "Hey Sammy."

Dean shoves past Sam as he hears her voice.  "S-Sarah?"

She goes back to the magazine.  "Good to see you too Dean."

The three of them stand there, staring.

Bobby was the first to react.  "And just what in hell's name do you think you're doing girl?  We've been trying to reach you for months, not to mention looking around town all day, and you're just casually sitting here?"

Sarah shrugs.  "I've been busy.  It is the apocalypse you know."

"Too busy to answer-"

Her loud sigh cuts him off.  "Look Bobby, I didn't take it well when you guys told me, okay?  So…I may have gone off the grid for a bit, but I'm back in the game now."

"No you’re not."  Dean growled suddenly and pulls out a flask from his pocket and throws it to her on the bed.  "Drink it?"

She eyes the flask and raises an eyebrow.  "Holy water?  Really?"

"Drink.  It."

With another sigh, she puts down the magazine and takes the flask.  Instead of drinking it, she pours some onto her other hand and looks up at them.  "Happy?"

"No, I'm not bloody happy."  Dean snatches it back off her.  "Hold out your arm."

Sarah eyed the silver knife that Dean pulled off his belt and then lazily holds her arm out.

Again, there is no reaction.

She wraps a cloth around her hand.  "Are we past the pleasantries?"

Dean was glaring at her, trying to think of something to do next, Bobby clearly doing the same.

Sam finally spoke up.  "Sarah, why hasn't anyone in town seen you?"

"Well, I've been keeping a low profile."  She shrugged.  "I only let the hunters see me because they needed a little help dealing with the vampires, and, well, I guess I did figure it was time to let you guys know where I was, hence why I waited around."  She looks between the three of them and smiles.  "Come on guys, I'm fine.  Nothing to worry about."

That was when there was a flutter of wings in the room, Castiel appearing.

"Dean, I fail to see how this is-” Castiel froze, his eyes locking onto Sarah.

"What is she Cas?"  Dean asked furiously.  "Because that sure as hell isn't my sister."

Sarah grinned at Castiel.  "So, rumours are true, you do answer they're little calls."

Castiel was tense, something that had the three hunters the room getting ready for a fight.  "Hello Saphriel."

"Saphriel?  Who the fuck is Saphriel?"  Dean snapped, looking between the two of them.

"An Archangel."  Castiel barely breathed, his gaze still locked firmly on her even though she hadn't move.

"An Archangel?"  Sam asked.  "I thought there were only four."

"Five."  She said lazily, finally looking back at the others.  "But see, the others don't like to talk about me much.  Bit of a...I want to say black sheep but Lucifer kind of took that one."

"You left your post."  Castiel suddenly growled.  "You were meant to be-"

"Guarding Lucifer in his little cage, don't I know it?"  Saphriel's expression became unamused.  "But you put up with one brother whining in one ear and the other shouting orders in the other for a few millennia and then see how you feel."

"You were guarding Lucifer's cage?"  Sam asked.

"Until she left her post."  Castiel answered.  "She had strict orders from God to make sure Lucifer never escaped, and then one day, Michael discovered she was gone.  No one has seen her since."

"I'm surprised you remember it all so well Castiel," Her grin returned.  "You were only an up and coming then, kind of cute to be honest, guess that's why you became one of Dad's little favourites."

"What are you doing here?"  Castiel asked, but Dean stepped in.

"No, what are you doing in my sister?"  He snapped.

Saphriel raised an eyebrow.  "I asked and she said yes?  Not that complicated."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"What did you say that made her say yes."  Dean snapped.  "She's a stubborn son of a bitch at the best of times, there's no way that she would just-"

"She was made to."  Castiel's eyes had narrowed on the angel, as if trying to see something.

"I thought angels couldn't make a vessel say yes?"  Bobby asked nervously.  "Must have been something pretty drastic to make Sarah turn."

Saphriel rolled her eyes.  "Oh, you boys are so unoriginal.  I didn't make her do anything, oh no, Lucifer handled that."

A silence heavy across the room and she slowly grinned as they all stared at her.

"Call it a thank you for leaving my post."  She said lightly.  "After all, if I hadn't, this little apocalypse wouldn't be happening right now.  I mean, if I'd been there all I had to do was wave my hand and Sammy would've disappeared, but not, this is much more interesting."

Sam frowns at her.  "So what?  You're on Lucifer's side?"

"Pfft, hardly."  Saphriel shoves her hands in her pockets and rocks a little on her heels.  "Not on Michael's side either, they're both...what's a good word?  Overbearing big brothers?  No, too long.  Control freaks?  No, not quite right either.  How about-"

"They're dicks, we get it."  Dean cut her off and she shrugs indifferently.

"If it gets the point across."  She said nonchalantly.  "I've been hiding on earth for a lot of years now, and gotta say, kind of like it, it's grown on me."

"So you're on our side?"  Sam asked slowly.

Saphriel laughed and shakes her head.  "Hardly.  I'm just a neutral party that's more interested in watching.  Kind of a high watching the big brothers fight it out."

"Seriously?"  Dean asked.  "That's the only reason you're possessing Sarah?  So you can watch?"

"How can I word this in a way you'll understand?"  She stares at her shoes for a moment, glancing at Castiel who was still extremely cautious.  "Relax Castiel, I'm not about to turn on anyone here."

He frowns in concern, but doesn't move.

Smiling, she bites her lip for a moment.  "Think of me as a third party interested in saving her own hide.  I'm not on Lucifer's side and I'm not on Michael's, both have been troublesome enough for me to not really care.  Should the event happen that they both fail, preferably not dead but out of the way, someone is going to have to step up and do something about it."

"And that would be you?"  Bobby cut in.  "You're going to stand back and watch Lucifer and Michael possibly tear the world apart and then step in when they're both down."

Her grin widens.  "Well, the alternative would be letting Raphael take control.  Gabriel's never had much interest, guess that's what he gets for being the baby of the family.  Raphael, for all his, er, talents, is a little too psychotic for my taste, Heaven would be in chaos, I mean, it kind of is now, but it would be worse.  I'm the least of your problems."

"Why not just help stop all of it?"  Castiel asked.  "From the stories, you are of equal power to both Michael and Lucifer.  So why sit back and do nothing?"

"Lucifer may have provided me with my vessel Castiel, but that doesn't mean he still wants me in or out of the picture.  I make a wrong step, poof!  No more me."  She thought it over.  "Michael, well, I may have said a few choice words to when I vanished.  He's not happy, let me tell you."

"You are of equal power though?"  Castiel insisted.

Saphriel shrugs.  "Never had to test it and never really wanted to."

"Oh, so you're as much of a dick as the other angels then."  Dean growled.

Her eyes narrowed on Dean.  "You may be cute Dean, but don't push your luck.  Michael's protection of his vessel will only go so far."

"I don't care."  Dean said, looking momentarily confused.  "I just want Sarah back, and so help me I will find a way to get you out of her."

She raises an eyebrow, a smirk on her lips.  "She's comfortable, I promise.  Not about to turn around and kill her now, am I?"  Saphriel glances over at Castiel again and winks, making his frown deepen.  "Now, I best be off.  Got a little mischief to cause before it all goes down."  She looks between Sam and Dean.  "You know, if you want this to be over quickly, you'll both just say yes.  It's not much fun being the only one that gets to play around."

Just then, the lights flicker in the room and the sky outside begins to darken.

Saphriel laughs.  "Oh look, big brother's trying to play, how cute."  She waves her hand, the lights returning to normal, but the sky outside remained dark.  "But that is my cue.  I'll see you round boys."

With that, she was gone.

[daddyconfessions]

sugar tales: baby ripped me off

I’ve gotten a lot of anon questions so I haven’t been able to blog on my past experiences as much as I would like. But, now that I’m catching up I can get back to sharing how things are for us Daddy’s out here.

I met Ripoff on SA around late April. She was the first seemingly decent SB after a long dry spell for me. I’d met Nebraska on the rebound from Bottlecap. Nebraska and I started in December ’14 and we lasted about several weeks. But I fucked up with her and she ended up getting another SD before I could fix things. Even though I started the year off so so, the spring of 2015 would prove to be a rough time for daddy.  

So I message Ripoff on SA and play the waiting game. After a few days she messages back. A few pleasantries are dispensed with the back and forth before we move on to texting.

After several texts Ripoff brings up money – not an allowance. Baby hits me with the stress method. Tells me her rent is due and she’s about to be put out.  

I don’t mind the stress method. Just use it in context. If it’s the middle of the month and you haven’t paid your rent then that’s just ratchet. The rent stress method makes more sense if ran at the end of the month or beginning. Just FYI if you’re using this. Don’t insult daddy’s intelligence. Also, my personal rule for any stress technique is to keep it transactional. No honey…no money. I know I’ll get hate mail for that one. But those are my own personal rules.

I get her to send more pics and she does, a few of which she shouldn’t have. I can tell from the bad ones the apartment is nowhere near the amount she’s asking.  I play along with her story, and before long I’ve shaved off a few $$$$ from her request. Suddenly she shifts from needing rent to needing to get her water bill paid.  Judging by her apartment pics no way she’s paying that much on water either. And I see baby stuff in the background. Not looking good. But, I cut her some slack not because she deserved it but more because the year had been rough.  

I agree to the amount for the water bill and we’re supposed to meet.  She says she’ll meet me at the hotel and she wants the money up front. Nope. No smash and dash here baby. We argue over that and then stop talking. She text me randomly over the next few days or so, testing the waters and trying to guilt me into giving her the cash. Not interested.

We stop talking for a few weeks and then she messages me on SA. Says she’s lost my number and would like to start talking again. She’s sweet this time. I like it.

We start back texting and within a couple of days I’m heading over to pick her up. She lives in a neighborhood undergoing gentrification. Million dollars homes tower above $50k houses. Of course I pick her up from the $50k duplex houses. We go for coffee because neither one of us is really hungry. It’s the beginning of the summer so its hot. Baby comes out in blue jean shorts and some type of sports bra. Nice. Ripoff’s a good looking latin chick. Dark brown skin, curly black hair….got that Salma Hayek thing going.

We chit chat. Baby is having a hard time. She moved out of her apartment in with a stripper friend. It was her stripper friend –after Ripoff had showed her our text messages and my pic – that told her she should really try and hook up with me. Stripper friend also told her she’d take me if Ripoff wasn’t interested. Wouldn’t be the first time I was passed around….I’ll blog on that in the future.

Baby opens up and tells me about herself. She hasn’t made the best decisions in life. She’s got two kids –although I couldn’t tell by looking at her. Stomach was flat and tight. Her mother has custody and mother also has the car she bought. Ripoff hasn’t been very responsible – half taking care of the kids and missing car note payments. She needs me to do these things for her. Get her life back together. She convinces me that she’s ready to change and get back on track. After she sees the wide-eyed look on my face she says, “Yea I know it’s a lot baby. I hope I don’t scare you off….”

I’ve seen worse. Cap’n Sav-A-Hoe to the rescue. I’ll gladly put on my cape and save her. Up Up and Away!!! Wouldn’t be the first time. I tell her I’m cool with everything and she’s ecstatic. She’s got a place through some city program and she needs help getting a U-haul to move her stuff in. She just wants someone stable. A father figure.  I’m good with it all. We talk more about her interest. Turns out she’s fairly decent chick.  Ripoff has some decent career plans and big things on her wish list. She shows me a few pics where she’s appeared in some rap videos, one of them being a fairly new up and coming guy.

Damn. I’m about to lay a video hoe? Gotta love the sugar bowl.

And she’s been on the album covers of some local talent. Not too shabby. She tells me she’s been living the life, turning up, and she’s lost everything because she’s ignored her responsibility.  

It’s plausible. But, I’m still a little confused about how she lost her kids, and being so irresponsible with car notes given the company she keeps. Somebody should have been shelling out some cash on baby. But hey it is what is.

We end up kissing and making out. Baby likes me suddenly. Tells me my eyes pretty – ok you can stop now. The other patrons take note of our PDA. Even though no cash was discussed for today in particular, baby wants to get her nails and feet done so she can feel good about herself again. Life’s been so tough. She wants new shoes and to go shopping but I tell her designer items are not good for the homeless. I tell her she needs to get her priorities straight. She frowns and I can tell I hit a nerve but she nods and agrees. She knows I’m right. I pull out some cash and give her some. She can’t do anything sexually because she’s on her period. But that’s cool. The game has taught me not to expect the kitty on the first date.

I cut the date short and head back to her place. When she finds out I occasionally get pedicures and manicures she wants to go together. Cool with me. I know some upscale places that serve wine during the service. She really likes that.

We kiss and say goodbye. We’re going to hook up in a couple of days and start our arrangement. Maybe after the mani/pedi.  However, within two days the ratchetness is back. She’s doing all the things again that stopped me from talking to her the first time.  And the promise of our mani/pedi date is gone. She went ahead and got it already because she was near the place. Damn that was going to be our icebreaker.

Its like our conversation at Starbucks went completely out the window. Now, she needs emergency money again, needs help buying a bed for her new place, blah blah and pretty soon she’s got a whole list of new needs. Fuck it. I drop a few stacks to solve all of her immediate problems. Under normal circumstances this wouldn’t be too bad. But my gut, my instincts say I need to close the deal and smash before I do any major cash outlay. But I give her the benefit of the doubt and I feel the need to step up my game since she’s dealing with rappers and entertainers.

Despite this, the bullshit keeps up for a few more days….now she needs me to rent a car so she can get around. She needs a deposit for the lights.  I start ignoring her but some part of me likes Ripoff. If I’m going to salvage anything with her I need to play it safe. Fuck it, I’m already financially invested in her. Might as well see it through. So I tell her let’s start our arrangement and then we can work on getting the rest of things she needs.

Her parents having her kids and car, and the fact that she lives with her friend says she’s irresponsible and can’t keep up with commitments and obligations.  I need to smash and get it over with at this point. Make sure she’s even sincere about this whole thing. Action always speaks louder than words. I know…probably more hate notes and mail. She gives me the dance around with getting started. Suddenly she’s busy doing this and that and dodging the arrangement.

Baby goes MIA for a week. One day, I text her. This will be my last attempt. She answers right away. I tell her I want to start over. Forget the money I’ve already given her. I tell her I want to come through and spend time with her. Of course I’ll have some cash when I come. Baby says ok. We set up the time and before long I’m on my way.

Ripoff answers the door looking good. Her hair is slightly damp from a recent shower and I can tell she’s not wearing underwear in those blue jean shorts. We catch up and both confess we haven’t handled this well. Then baby goes over to a nearby basket of clothes and grabs a piece of lingerie.  She asks for the money  and then tells me she’s going to go change. She goes to a room and closes the door.

Then I hear her lock the door. WTF?

After a moment she says you can come in baby…..I jump up, full of weeks of anticipation and walk towards the door. As I put my hand on the door knob, the door to the apt/duplex opens. A guy walks in on the phone.

“What the fuck?” he says looking at me crazy. Then he starts yelling  “Who are you? “ and “Who are you here to see” and then “I know you’re not here for Ripoff. That’s my girl man. We about to have some problems.” Blah blah

Surprisingly I’m relaxed. I try the door handle but its still locked. I tell her to come out but she doesn’t answer. Meanwhile this lil short midget thug is talking shit on the phone.  “Man I just went to the store and came back and this mofo at my house….” Now I know I’ve been setup. Then he hangs up like he’s going to do something. We he sees I’m not scared he’s like, “We gonna have to go outside and talk about this.” One backhand and a couple of jabs and I’d have this guy taken care of. A kick on the cheap ass door would allow me entry into the room where Ripoff is.

No sooner then I think it then I realize the real danger I was in. The legal danger. In a flash I realize if I kick ass and get my money back  I could have all kinds of legal problems. It’ll be there two words against mine. And it is it really worth my Director title at work, my job potentially, not to mention the embarrassment.

I decide to bounce. I got enough cash to play another day.  

I get outside and he’s still talking shit. I tell him they got a pretty good scam going but karma is a bitch.  “My guess is you target professional men with a lot to loose. Nice. But be careful, you could run across the wrong guy.” He starts cursing me out. By then I’m out of the drive way and heading to my car. I see some of his boys waiting on the other side of the house. Now I get the sense of the real danger I was in.

The cash they stole was nominal. Glad I followed my instincts and didn’t buy ALL the shit she asked for.

In the end I chalk it up to the game. I consider dumping my SA account. Too grimey. Now it’s almost June. I’m hoping this summer gets better because 2015 hasn’t been good to daddy. I start to miss the old days when a daddy could post an ad on CL and call it a day.

A few weeks later I get a message from newbie named Kansas. I’ll post on her next time.

PS., excuse any grammatical errors, etc. I wrote this story on my lunch break

[lalast0ne]

Sea of Red

Wilder

*I pinch the bridge of my nose, mumble some very loud cuss words that I don’t really care if they are heard and look straight ahead of me…..to hell. A sea of fabric, every color imaginable stares back at me and more cuss words are mumbled. I turn in a circle slowly, my eyes landing on Layla, who is like a kid in a shoe store. Hell! I narrow my eyes, turn back around, more colors jumping out at me and take a step back. And another. And then another until one foot is out of the door. This was not on my to do list…..EVER!*

Layla

*My head snaps around and eyes narrow on you as you back toward the door.* Where do you think you’re going Mr. Steele? *I skip toward you and grab your hand, yanking you back in to the room.* This is a joint business venture and part of that venture is choosing the color scheme. *I motion around to all the fabrics that are draped over furniture and hung around the room. It’s like being in the middle of a real life rainbow, and I love it. My fingers stroke over the satin fabric in a deep red.* What do you think of this one? The color’s gorgeous but the material is probably quite impractical. *I smile over my shoulder at you and stifle a laugh at the look on your face.*

Wilder

Are you speaking a foreign language? *My lips curl in a snarl, looking around the showroom again.* When we get married, you are on your own for all of this. *My eyes travel to the red material you were just touching and I smirk over at you.* If I say red works, can we be done with this outing? I’m a huge fan of red. Especially the color of your ass when you have been naughty.

Layla

*I tilt my head one way then the other, admiring the fabric and fighting back my laugh as you continue to grumble and curse today’s shopping trip. My back straightens almost instantly when I hear a specific four words fall from your mouth. Swallowing, I turn slowly to look at you, blinking and watching as you just carry on like normal looking around the room at the sea of fabric.* I’m sorry what … *Clears my throat* what was that?

Wilder

*I take a step closer to the fabric, not caring as a swarm of sales people see dollar signs, come walking towards us, notepads in hand and say the words again.* The color of your ass when you misbehave. *I hold my hand up to stop their progress and turn to face them.* You, in the *motions my finger at the chick on the end* black, we want this fabric. The rest of you are not needed.

Layla

*Nodding my head, I turn my attention back to the fabric not even blushing.* I thought that’s what you said. I always wondered what shade of red it went. *Smirking to myself as I run the satin through my fingers.* Now I know. *What you do next though, that does make me blush. And your brashness has me wanting the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Your deep voice booms across the shop floor as you single one of the sales assistant and openly dismiss all the others. I smile an apology as they all back away then I turn and shoot a death glare at you.* Don’t be so rude! *I smile another apology at the sales assistant, who looks completely terrified to have been selected. “Alice” stands and listens as I tell her exactly what I want, making notes on her pad, before going off to find swatches of material. I lean into you as she scurries away, my head resting against your shoulder.* Which would you say is worse .. shoe shopping or this? *I laugh softly, trying to lighten your mood.*

Wilder

I don’t think she likes me. *I watch Alice scurry off towards the back, where we will probably never see her again.* You should have put her on the clock. I have a feeling she will keep us here all day. *I lean my head down and kiss your forehead.* Since I’ve never been shoe shopping with you, I would say this. How exciting can fabrics be? *I look around again.* It’s the most boring looking shit ever.

Layla

*Both our eyes remain on Alice until she vanishes from sight.* I don’t think she likes you either, but she’s probably going to love you when she realizes how much money you’re going to be spending in here. *Scrunching my nose as your lips press to my forehead, I stroke my nails up and down your forearm.* Well that just sounds like I’m going to have to take you shoe shopping then you’ll be able to compare the two experiences. *The look on your face tells me that’s unlikely to happen in this lifetime.* No? Maybe in the next life. *I step back toward the fabrics and select a deep purple velvet which I know I could put to use somewhere.* You have to use your imagination. Try to picture it around the club .. what different materials would be …. *I drift off.* You’re right, this is probably really boring for you.

Wilder

*I take a seat in some ungodly looking chair that is uncomfortable and kick my legs up on the table, my boots clashing with the orange fabric they are resting on.* I can assure you that color will not be anywhere in our club. *I see Alice making her way back to us, fabric trailing behind her and mumble another string of cuss words.* If I offer to take you shoe shopping and buy you every pair you want, can we skip out of here? Pick the deepest red and various ones that “flatter” it and call this done.

Layla

*I walk over to you and swat at your leg in an attempt to have you remove your feet from the table. Just as Alice emerges from the store room, copious amounts of fabric in hands, I lean down to you. My face as close as can be, without touching, a huge smile on my lips.* You make the best deals, do you know that? I should bring you out with me more often. *Before you can utter another word, I press a quick kiss to your lips and back away, toward Alice, before you can change your mind. 10 minutes later, I’m back in front of you, stuffing a stack of swatches in my purse.* I’ve told Alice I’ll come back with Holly in a couple of days. We’re free to leave. *Grins*

Wilder

That’s a lot of colors to choose from. *I steal the candy bar from your purse as you stuff all the fabric in there, open it and take a huge bite. I grab the purple shit you were looking at earlier and stuff it in there as well.* Don’t worry, Alice will charge us for it. I’m not stealing am I Alice? *I give her a full on grin and she giggles when I wink.* Layla will be seeing you soon. Me on the other hand, it was nice meeting you. *I grab your hand before you can get lost in the showroom and pull you towards the door.* Food sounds good now.

Layla

There’s a lot of club to decorate. Variety is the spice of life, baby. *I frown when you stuff the purple fabric in my bag and just as I’m about to protest you cut me off. My eyes go between you and Alice as you exchange flirtatious pleasantries and before I can even thank her for her time, I’m being dragged out the shop door on the street. The wind whips my hair around my face and we stand for a moment buttoning coats.* Food is a very good idea. Got to build your energy level for all this shoe shopping you’ve promised me!

Wilder

*I stammer to find my words as I reach up to tuck your hair behind your ears.* Shoe shopping? That was an example to see how fast I could get you moving. It worked. *My lips cover yours before you can protest, tugging your bottom lip between my teeth. I growl low and pull you against my chest.* Shopping makes me hungry.

Layla

*My lips curl up at the corners and I laugh, then purr as your teeth nip over my bottom lip.* Oh is that right? Sneaky move. *I pull your hand and make to head back into the showroom.* Actually, I think I just need to speak to Alice about .. *I don’t get a chance to finish before I’m yanked back into your chest, laughing as I look up at you.* I’m famished. Feed me!

Wilder

I got something you will love to eat. *Smirks, kissing you again before pulling you towards the car.* Are there any other things you need to do in the city after we eat? *I get in the drivers side after you shut the door, laughing at your expression.* And I was only asking to be nice. I’m ready to get back to Blacksoul. I have some delinquents to check on and the horses are being delivered later.

Layla

*I watch as you strut around the car after shutting my door behind me. I have no idea what’s gotten in to you today. Maybe you had one too much sugar today. Maybe many brownies this morning .. or maybe Delores made them ‘special’ brownies. I shake my head, watching you as you slip into your seat.* I definitely don’t have anything else to do here today. I’m back in the city tomorrow anyway. *I reach into my bag and pull my phone out to read the message that just come through.* I didn’t realize you’d negotiated a deal with Mitch already.

Wilder

I waste no time in getting something I want. *My hand goes to your thigh and squeezes hard as I start the car and drive toward the edge of the city in search of some food. I glance down at you checking your messages.* Is everything ok Little Ball of Fire?

Layla

*My brows pull together as I type a response and hit send.* It’s just dad. He wants me at the house tomorrow morning. He hasn’t told me what’s going on but just said there’s something we need to talk about. *I drop my phone back on the bed of material and place my hand over yours.* Have you spoken to him or Cal lately?

Wilder

Not in a few days. Do you want me to go with you? *I squeeze your fingers and pull up at a local restaurant, shutting the car off and turn to face you.* Is this to do with that new manager they hired? He should have let me run my background check on them. I could have flushed out all their dirty little secrets. There is nothing better than digging up dirt on someone.

Layla

*Shaking my head, I squeeze your fingers.* I’m sure it’s fine. I just hate when I’m kept out of the loop. *My teeth play with my lip as I contemplate.* It probably is. Both Dad and Cal have kept it very close to their chest and I don’t understand why. I’m sure everything will be revealed In due course. *Releasing my belt, I turn to face you. My hand lifting to cup your face and fingers tease your beard, my interest piqued.* You do love to run a check. Did you run one on me?

Wilder

*Smirking, I lean in and kiss you hard, dragging my mouth across your jaw and down your neck, biting your neck.* You bet your sexy ass I ran a background check on you. It’s never been opened though. You best always be a good girl or I will have to open it and see just how naughty my Little Ball of Fire has been.*