#listen honey I have only one brain cell and it has office hours so

[softquietsteadylove]

Here to say I’m missing Thenamesh Rus AU and this is in fact a prompt 😅 (sorry I have two brain cells and neither of them are working to formulate a real prompt but I appreciate anything u give us!!!)

Gil strolled through the crowd. He was coming off watch duty, although now that winter was over and spring was approaching, it wasn't quite so agonising. Even so, he was still volunteering to cover Thena's watch when at all possible for her.

He only relented when Thena herself insisted on him staying inside and resting in the warmth of his room.

The humans called it Maslenitsa, or some form of it. They were celebrating, and the sizzling of hot cakes could be heard all over the place. People had cast iron out over the fires, flipping the fluffy, sugary confections.

"Hot cake, Strong One?"

He tilted his head at the offer. There were plenty of other fires making hot cakes, and he had to admit he was curious to ask about how the technique and recipes varied between them all. But this one was already being held out to him; it seemed rude to ignore it. "Oh, uh, thanks."

The woman smiled, leaning on her knees and resting her chin in her palm. "You and your merry band should enjoy Maslenitsa. The nights will become shorter and the sun will be strong."

"That's good," Gil murmured, even looking up at the sky to admire the colour of it. Thena could do with a little more sun, after all. He chewed the hot cake. He thought it could do with a finer grind on the wheat they used, but it was tasty (hot butter and melted sugar would, of course, do that for anything). "This is good."

"It's a newer technique, the old ones don't always add the sugar," the woman smiled, flicking a long train of dark hair over her shoulder. "But I quite like to try new things."

Gil took another bite; the sugar did a lot to add to the light texture, he thought. Surely adding only butter would just be eating a flat biscuit, or soft hardtack.

"Where is the Warrior?"

Gil blinked, surprised she was asking. But he supposed he was rarely without Thena. Many of the people in this country had light yellow hair--more here than anywhere else they had stayed. But Thena's hair was the envy of many of them. It was great hair. "We all shift the responsibility of looking out for trouble. I'm sure she's around here somewhere."

"I see."

Gil licked his fingers finishing off the cake. "Thanks--it's-"

"Have another."

He was going to refuse politely. There were more he could try if he wanted to. But she was already extending another one. His insides squirmed. "Well, okay then."

"The attacks on our walls are lessening," the woman continued to make light conversation as he ate. Her eyelids fluttered and her lips pursed faintly. "Will you and your ilk disappear again?"

Gil thought about his words. They had been here long enough that most had accepted that they were part of the royal party, as it were. It was a sign they were assimilating effectively if people didn't think of them as temporary presences. The more they could muddy the waters around their connection to Deviant attacks the better.

Greece was all but convinced for three whole generations that Thena had fallen from the sky like an angel from the moment Athens was built. Most had forgotten that they had simply showed up one day.

"Your presence would be sorely missed."

Well, that was nice of her to say. Gil mulled on things with his mouth full of hot cake. What to say? They would, in fact, disappear sooner than later. "Uh, I guess we'll see what the Queen decides."

"Of course," the woman lowered her eyes. Sankta Olga's rule was beyond question, after all. She peeked at him coquettishly. "Would you like to know how to make the bliny?"

Apparently that was the hot cake sizzling in butter. He was curious. "Hm, I-"

"There you are."

Gil's face broke into a grin, "there you are--been looking for you."

"Is that so," Thena purred in a funny tone. She let him pull her closer to him, but her eyes were on the stranger. That was common for the Warrior Eternal though.

"Warrior," the woman curtsied to her.

"Have you had these?" Gil asked, gesturing with the half-finished hot cake in his hand. In truth, he had eaten this one slowly, wondering if he might find her and let her have the rest of it. "They're pretty good."

Thena observed the cake briefly before eyeing the woman again. "Tempting, are they?"

The woman shrank back some, letting more than just the fire separate them. Gil wasn't sure what had spooked her, but he held up the cake for Thena to try. "I think you'll like them. Try it."

Thena dragged her eyes away from the woman. She looked at the cake, but ultimately moved his hand out of her way, albeit gently. Her hand remained clasped around his larger one as she smiled, "I shall."

His eyes slid closed as she raised her lips to his. It was a simple peck at first, but she lingered, waiting for further access. Her tongue slithered past his, tracing around his mouth for the hot butter and syrup lingering there. His other arm came up to wrap around her waist completely.

"Hm," Thena moaned pleasantly. She leaned back, licking those perfect lips of hers. Her eyes had a mischievous sparkle in them, "delicious."

Gil blushed, although the woman had needed to look away from such a display.

"I quite like it," Thena added, continuing on as if the kiss had not occurred. She looked at the woman who was now too embarrassed to look at either of them. "I would like one as well."

"O-Of course, Warrior," the woman stuttered, her earlier smoothness and charisma leaving her. She handed over a fresh one from off the iron.

Gil swept it up into his free hand. Thena looked at him, pouting cutely. But he grinned, "it's hot. I'll hold it for you."

Thena rolled her eyes at his chivalry; it was not as though she were human, she could hold something as hot as that. It was no raw, molten iron straight from the fire, like he could. But she allowed it, bending her head to take a delicate bite of her fresh bliny.

He took a bite of his remaining one to finish it off. He raised his brows at her, curious if she wanted the last of this one straight from his mouth, but she shook her head, taking his arm and leading him away from the mortified human.

"You must get better at perceiving when women are hinting at you."

"Hinting what?" he asked. He thought he was pretty good at reading people, actually. He could read a room, he was quite sure. Maybe sometimes a few things might go over his head, but that was what he had her for--to watch his blind spots.

Thena just smiled, dusting some crumbs out of the fur on his shoulders. Soon, they wouldn't need to be draped in furs all the time. "Had I not arrived when I did, I do believe she would have asked you to sample more--the way I did with you?"

He furrowed his brows; that seemed impractical. But oh!--she meant the woman was trying to flirt her way into his arms! She was right, he was terrible at picking up those kinds of signals. He pouted right back at her, "you know I don't pay attention to how mortal women communicate that...stuff."

Thena must have been feeling the good weather. Rather than glare at him, her energy crackling and sparking in her palms, she let her amusement show. She ran her hand down his chest again, tilting her head to peck right at the corner of his lips. She pulled back, licking her lips again; he must have had crumbs there. "Indeed."

He chuckled; if she was happy, then he was too. He nuzzled the tips of their noses together, "sorry, Solnyshkuh."

She sighed cutely, feigning some maidenly distress. "I suppose it is not your fault you are so desired."

"Hey, speak for yourself," he grinned, continuing to lead her through the festivities with their arms wound together. "I witnessed several proposal attempts at that last ball we went to."

She laughed. "Those entertain you as much as they do, me."

That was true; they always had a good chuckle about it later. "And will you laugh about this with me later?"

Thena eyed his lips for a moment. "Later."

Fine with him, she could stake her territory all she liked with him. He would resign himself to it happily.

"I would like to know how they make them," he murmured, looking around at the various other offerings of bliny and flatbreads and cheese.

"I'm certain you need only ask," Thena also looked around them. Several women waved at them; she scowled again. "Perhaps the royal cook--the old one with the moustache."

He chuckled again. He tilted her chin back to him, using her good mood to sneak yet another kiss. "Whose am I?"

She lit, like the sun itself. "Mine."

"Whose?" he repeated, kissing her cheek as reverently as a goddess deserved.

"Gil," she laughed, chiding him lightly, although it came out airy as he tickling below her jaw with his teeth. "Mine."

"All yours," he swore, even canoodling in the middle of an open market. "Besides-"

Thena drew her brows together at his significant pause. Although they shot up as he snuck his hands under her heavy cloak to give the behind of her dress a pat.

"Your hotcakes are still the best."

"Gilgamesh!"

[winter-fox-queen]

The Gentry’s Gifts: Max Phillips

Hello!  This is sort of a sequel to the Pero story, in that we saw Max and now we know what he was doing there and what choice he needed to make.

Warnings:  Cursing. Angst. I had the trick of having to put both blank canvas characters into one story, lol.  But I think I finessed it.  The “you” character is a blank slate, mostly gender neutral (mentions of wanting to have children could sway your perception one way or the other.). Not betad.  

This is my late #writerwednesday entry, thank you to @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​

Prologue:

Max Phillips slammed the hospital doors open, eager to get outside.  The sound beeping machines seemed to echo in his ears, making them hurt.  The smell of the place stuck to the back of his throat.

He tilted his head back in the afternoon sun, and breathed in, breathed out.  Tried to make himself calm down.  The Autumn are cleared his head as he jogged across the road.  

“Bad day?”  A voice asked.

Between two benches, almost hidden in the orange leaves, was a woman, instead of the ‘Nam veteran he usually passed a few moments talking to.  Her wiry steel colored hair was in a messy bun, covered by a turban.  She wore layers and layers even though it was a warm fall day.  “Where’s Raffi?”  Max asked.

“His daughter found him.  He decided to try living with her again.”

Max nodded.  “I hope it works out.  She wasn’t…apparently he isn’t easy to live with.  Bad dreams.”

“It’ll be better now.”  She said with such serene certainty that Max believed her.  He gave a little wave and walked away.  

He was back, twenty minutes later.  He put a chocolate shake in front of her, and a boxed fried chicken meal.  If he had known his folklore…which, sadly, he would become intimately familiar with, he would have understood her amusement.  Milk, bread…these were the Old offerings.  

Instead he shrugged, uncomfortable.  “What?  I figure everyone likes chocolate.  And I needed to eat, too.”  He sat next to her.

“How old are you?” She asked, though she knew.

He shrugged.  “Seventeen.”  He buttered a biscuit and took a huge bite.  He ate like he was starving.  “Why?”

“You seem to be awfully young to be hanging out with homeless people.  Where are your parents?”  

He shrugged again.  “My mom’s gone.  My father…”. He pointed towards the hospital doors with his chin.  “He’s dying.”  He hunched over the greasy box of chicken, potato strips and biscuits, eating like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

She sighed.

He looked at her, and she shook her head, and ate the food he brought her.  You are going to go off the rails Max Phillips.  You are going to go off the rails so badly and there’s nothing I can do about it.

The Present:

He entered the library through the basement, crept up the stairway.  The first floor was nearly empty…the university library kept late hours so that students could cram late into the night, but it was Thirsty Thursday and most of the students were elsewhere.  

He waited until you were focused on the book cart again, back towards the main floor, and got himself around the corner.  Then he pulled out his cell and dialed the front desk.

You now turned to go to the phone, at least he hoped so, as he disconnected the call and opened the side door to the area behind the circulation desk…

You were there, leaning against the cart, arms folded.  “Nice try, but I know your tricks, Mister Phillips.”

He grinned and advanced on her, step by step.

“No no…”. You point a finger at him.  “Stay back, this is a work place…”. You shoot a look towards the front desk as he backs you into your office.   “You are going to lose me my job.”  You hiss at him, and he bends a little, and kisses you breathless.

“Quit.  I’ll take care of you.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders.  He’s cool to the touch.  It’s not disconcerting, not like it used to be.  “I wish I could.”

“Stop wishing...”

“If you say ‘and make your dreams a reality’, I’ll bite you.”  

Max looks offended.  “It’s a great slogan!  Do you know how many units of Losapill those golden words have sold?”

“I don’t understand how I can love someone so much and want to punch them so badly.”

He grins down at you.  “I can name several reasons why you love me.”

You smirk up at him.  “I’m sure you can…let me go, honey.  I’ve got to tell everyone we’re closing in half an hour.”  He listened to your voice on the loudspeaker, buttery and gentle and reassuring, and smiled a little. He could listen to that voice forever.  He could sell holy water to a priest, but so far all his skills had failed to net him the one thing he wanted.

He walks with you, as you check the restrooms (He even does the men’s for you on each floor, turning off the lights and blocking the doors open) and stands behind you, hands in his pockets, looking gloomy as you gently tell students to take their books to the front desk if they needed to check them out, that the library was closing shortly.

He waits, patiently, while you close up and lock the doors and usher the last people out.  

“I really wish you’d let me turn you,” he says when you are both in your car and on the way home.  Max often took the rooftops from his office to the university.  He was fast, and strong, and being fairly indestructible made him long for the thrill of possibly getting hurt, so he parkoured his way through the city once it got dark.  It was disgusting, how he looked so good after running and leaping five miles.

He shifts in his seat as you let the silence grow.  “Are you ignoring me?”

“Yes.”  You stop at a red light.  

“Why?  You said you’d think about it.  You’ve been thinking about it for a month.  Any idea where you are on it?  Like, from the scale of one to ten…”

You’ve been wanting to avoid this.  You’ve really been wanting to avoid this.  “Zero.”

She waits.  She waits for the torrent of salesmanship.  The spiel.  Why becoming a vampire and living forever is what she wants, she just doesn’t know it’s yet.  

For once, words fail him.  No quick comeback, no charming lines. “I can’t believe you don’t want to be with me.”  He says it so softly that you almost aren’t sure you heard it.  

You pull into the apartment parking lot, picks a spot quickly you can park and take his hands in yours.  “Max.  I do.  I really do.  But just…I don’t want to be a vampire.  I don’t want to give up the things I would have to give up?”

“Like what?  Death?  Getting old?  Getting sick?  Being weak?”  He pulls his hands away.  “I am offering you unlimited time.  Think of the things we can do together!  And you don’t have to kill…I haven't killed anyone in ages!”

“Sunlight.”  You say.  “Food.”  He makes a disgusted sound and looks out the window.  “A family.”  You take a deep breath.  “Children.”

He finally looks at you again.  “Then I won’t waste any more of your time.”  He raises his hand, and time goes wonky for a moment, and when things snap back into place, he’s gone.

You stay in your car a long time, hoping he’ll come back. Every step up to your apartment, you look around, hoping.  

It’s dawn, before you give up, dried out from crying, your mouth feels full of ashes and your heart full of regret.

The next day:

Max was not in a good mood the next day.  Usually he has a nice word for, if no one else, his PA, a miracle worker of a woman he’d always been fond of, but he just glared at her and slams his door shut.

Emails.  Reports.  He plowed into work.  

The door opened, and he ignored it, steadfast in the hope that whoever it was would go the fuck away.   I could always eat them.  I don’t have to be good anymore.

A cup thumped down on his desk.  He looked up.  He didn’t recognize the woman — her steel grey hair was neat, her suit elegant.  Her heart beat strangely, and he could tell she was not — quite—human.  Great.  Someone new from corporate?

“I thought you said that everyone loves chocolate?”  She said, pointing at the milkshake.  “You’ve come far, since we last spoke outside the hospital…”

He shook his head.  “I remember you, but…”. How did she come to be here? Why? His brain was still trying to match up the homeless lady with the epitome of corporate flash in front of him.  

“Now, I didn’t say you moved in a good direction.  How did the sweet boy who spent his last twenty on dinner for himself and a homeless woman end up being a bloodsucking asshole selling fake products?”

“It’s a long story. Let’s schedule an appointment, maybe for the next century?”

“Nope.”  She reached across the desk.  “You gonna drink this?”

He shook his head and she took the milkshake, leaned back in her chair, moving the straw back and forth in the lid, making an annoying shriek sound that hurt his ears.  

“Do you think I wanted this?”  He snapped at her.  Vampires didn’t really need much in the way of sleep, but he was tired.  Tired and hurt.  “And who gives you the right to fucking judge me?”

“I’m one of the gentry,” she said.  “That doesn’t give me the right, but it gives me the power.”

“You’re fae.  That explains it.  You don’t seem human.”  

“I thought they taught you the rules.  You never call us out so clearly.  Always call us by some euphemism and hope we don’t take a notion to turn our attention towards you.”

He threw up his hands.  “Why?  Why does it matter?”

“Because if I wanted to, Max Phillips, I could turn you back into the weak, dying, foolish mortal you once were.”

This stopped him.  “You could?”  He said carefully.  

“I could.”

“What’s the catch?”

She smiled.  “Good boy.  Maybe they did teach you something, after all.”  She put the milkshake on the desk.  ”You were…what?  Twenty, twenty one when you got turned?  I could, if I wanted to, make it as if you never got turned.  I could choose for you to age to the age you should be, had you not cheated death…or I could make you start from where you are right now.  If I was feeling so inclined.”

“Why would I want that?”  He scoffed.  “Do you think I want to get old and sick?  Do you think I want to spend the last year of my life in a hospital bed, unable to even piss for myself?  You think this is a fucking gift?  Enticing?  No.”

“So you don’t want a life with the librarian? Probably for the best. She is made out of sunlight and deserves so much better.”

He stopped.  He could feel the slipping…where the darker side of him started clambering up, eager to take control and rend and kill.  

“Hush.”  She said, and the blood stopped rushing in his ears, the fangs stopped aching.  “I shouldn’t needle.  It’s just so frustrating.  You were a sweet boy and you just allowed the bad in your life to make you…well, frankly, a bit of a jackass.”  She shoot him an apologetic look.  “OK, that was a cruddy apology.  But.  Back to the subject at hand.  Once, you were kind to me.  And if you do me a favor — one more favor — I will give you a choice.  A chance to choose a life for yourself instead of being a victim of bad choices and worse luck.  No strings.  No further price.”

He side eyed her a long moment.  He was intrigued, despite himself.  “What’s the favor?”

She took a small painting out of her pocket and slid it over to him.  “Another debt to pay…that woman has a soul mate out there.  I know where he is.  If you get her to my house tomorrow night, I can unite them, give them a chance at well deserved happiness.”

“Yeuch.”  He said, then picked up the painting.  “Wait.  That’s my PA.”

“Is it?  How delightful.  Isn’t just splendid how fate intervenes.”  She put a card on the desk.  “This is the address.  Hope to see you.”  She held up her finger.  “There is one thing.  She can’t know.  You have to get her there without her knowing why.  Alright?”

“Don’t hold your breath.”  He muttered.

“Good.  I am glad you understand.  Ciao!”

He picked up the card.  And cursed a bit.

NIght, in the time middle of nowhere:

“So, Mister Phillips…are you taking me out into the middle of the woods to murder me?”  His PA asked, laughing.  She didn’t know he was a vampire.  Telling people what he was hadn’t worked out very well at his last job, so he’d been much more circumspect this time.

“I promise, you are safe.  From me.  I don’t know what Corporate will do, though,” he said, turning down another road.  

“So, did they tell you what the meeting is about?”

“It’s meant to be a retreat.  All the heads of the various branches and their PA’s.  They want to re-envision the future of the company”. He took one hand off the wheel to put air quotes in the right place.  “Apparently they messed up your email address so we didn’t get the invite in time.  Someone caught it and called me directly.”

“I hope the place they picked is nice…”. She was looking out the window, trying to make out the road ahead.  “Carol in accounting is super jealous.  I think she has a bit of a crush on you…”

“Well, I am irresistible.”

“Mostly.”  She grinned at him.  A square of light grabbed her attention.  “I think we’re here.”

He pulled up to the house.  It looked sketchy at best, and the looks his PA were casting made him wonder if her trust was stretching a little too thin.

He got out and walked up to the porch.  The Fae came out this time wearing a chic, flowery dress.  She ignored Max and called to his PA.  “Don’t be afraid.  You are here so I can talk to you about your dreams…and by that, I mean the Spaniard, with the scar over his eye.”

The PA froze.  “You…you know about him?”  

“Go inside, dear, and I will tell you all about him.  But I need to talk to Max, here, first”

His PA stopped next to him, put her hand on his arm.  “Will you be OK?”

“Absolutely.  You know me.”

She went into the house.  

“Come here, Max.”  The Fae held out her hand, gesturing him to come up to the porch.  He did.  A card table was set up, with one chair.  Two cards lay face down.  “Here is your choice.  Are you ready?”

He stood there, looking at the table, and nodded.  Fear coursed through him, as strong as the day cold hands grabbed him from behind, teeth sinking into his throat…

She reached down and flipped over a card.  The Queen of Spades.  “Darkness ever lasting.  A vampire queen even now is looking for her equal.  She will choose you, and the two of you will know power beyond your wildest dreams…until enough people get angry about it and decide to deal with you both.  You will not love her, but who needs love when you have sex and death and all the power you ever hoped for?”

She reaches again, flips over another card.  The Queen of Hearts.  “And this.  This is life.  Your soul will wake up, and you will be twenty one and full of possibilities again.  Your heart will beat every beat that was stolen from you.  The slate will not be wiped entirely clean, but you will have a chance — a chance with your lovely librarian.  Children.  Be kind when you were once cruel, and live a decent, good life.”  

His lips were numb.  “How…how long?”

“Long enough.  You will not feel cheated.  It will be a plain sort of life, but it will be yours, and you will have the woman you love…some would say that is worth dying for.”

“What do you know about death?  Your kind just fade when they are tired of living.  You will never know the absolute fucking horror of your body betraying you.  The fucking humiliation that waits.  The pain.”

“No.”  She said softly.  “I do not.”  She kissed his temple.  “I am sorry.  If I had met you sooner, perhaps…but, in any case, I consider all debts paid.  When you are ready, pick up the card representing your choice, and rip it in half.  Choose well, Maxwell Phillips.  May we never meet again.”

He didn’t notice her leave.  He sat down, weak, at the table.

Life.  Death.  Life.  Death.  

He’d seen both his parents die terribly.  After he was turned, he’d mourned, then he realized the gift he’d been given.  No hospitals.  No lingering disease.  No pain.

His hand hovered next to the Queen of Spades.  No love, but power and sex.  He’d tried to recover, tried to be good, for you.  And he’d started feeling the guilt.  And with guilt, came all the excuses.  That he was living according to the nature that had been forced upon him.  That he was giving people a gift…they died, or they become something that could never die.

You don’t punish the wolf for being a wolf.

But that was why it had been easy to walk away.  Because you deserved better.  Not a vampire.  Not a wolf.  A man…

He did not hear the car, but he heard the thump of the other man’s steps as he mounted the porch.  

“She’s in there…”  he said, barely paying attention.  

When the other man left, he repeated what he said to him, in his head.  Choosing between life and death.

He picked up the Queen of Hearts.  His hands were shaking.  He ripped the card in half.  Darkness roared around him, pulled him under.

When he woke up, he was on the floor of his apartment.  

No.  His fucking.  College.  Dorm room.

“Dude, you started early.”  Evan’s stupid face appeared as he bent over him.  

Max wondered if he could punch him in the face.  It would feel really, really good to punch the other man in the face,

“OK, well, I’m going to an away game…see you sometime tomorrow.”

He put the palms of his hands in his eyes.  “Yeah…have fun.”

Evan stepped over him.  “See ya…wouldn’t want to be ya!”  The door slammed shut and Max raised both hands in a one finger salute towards it.

He made himself get up and go to the bathroom.  He looked younger but not better, per se.  What is wrong with me?  What’s this feeling?

It wasn’t just that he could feel his body working.  Feel breath (was breathing always so fucking noisy?) and heat beats and aches in his neck and back from laying weird on the floor.

He’d lived for years.  But right now, he was still the same angry, miserable hit mess of a man he’d been at this point of his life.  

A phone was ringing, he went and grabbed it.

“Hey Maxie.  Is Evan gone?”  Evan’s girlfriend.  Great.

Oh.  

“Yeah.  Yeah.  Look…”

“Awesome.  I bought the cutest bra and panties…”

And this is where, he thought, this is where he took the step to becoming the man you deserved him to be.  “That’s great.  But you know…I only want to fuck you because your boyfriend is an annoying twit.”

Shocked silence.  OK still an asshole.  Check.  So much for being a sweet boy when I was younger.  “Look. I meant what I said.  You are beautiful. You are probably far, far too good for Evan. Or maybe not, if you are willing to screw around with an asshole like me. In any case, you deserve better. But you have to decide what better is.”

This treated him to a string of profanity before the woman hung up.

Then, he walked to the infirmary, and asked for aspirin. And if there were any free spots for the therapist.

Sunday, the conversation between roommates went like this:

“So you were going to screw my girlfriend?”

A shrug — Max concentrated on the video game.  “Changed my mind.”

“Why?”

He paused the game.  “Because you deserve better.”

He felt Evan throw himself on the couch next to him.  “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I don’t hate you. You’re just so fucking happy and peppy and optimistic and everything is going to be awesome but I think the world is shit and misery and maybe if you dialed it back a little I we could have conversations that didn’t end with me wanting to punch your face.”

“Dude.”  It sounded defeated and apologetic at the same time.

Max held a controller out to him. “Sorry. I’ll try to be less of an asshole.”

He took it.  “I’ll try to be less…happy?”

Max sighed.  “Just don’t get me kicked out, ok? I can’t afford anywhere else and I really don’t want to end up in Transylvania.”

Two years later, he decided he could go and find you.

Most people went to nice places on their spring break.

Max got on a bus and headed to a University in the next state.  They’d had their Spring break a week sooner.

There you were. Sitting cross legged on a bench with a man with a streak of blonde in his hair, and a suit coat with elbow patches.  Elbow patches.  Pretentious asshole.

You were tucking hair behind your ear. You liked him. Max wondered if he should leave, come back…in a year?  Three?  When did he have a right to become part of your life?  Did he even?

You look at him and smile and it is sunshine and he can’t leave.

The man on the bench says something about class.  “See you at work,” she tells him, and he lopes off in an easy walk to one of the brick covered class buildings.

Max approaches carefully.  “Hey.  Um.  I’m thinking about transferring here, wondered what it’s like?”

She shifted her bag over, even though there was plenty of room to sit, and he took it as an invite.  “Sure. What do you want to know?”

He gave her his best smile. “Everything. I want to know everything.”

[jackrrabbit]

practice makes perfect /// Mitsuri x f!Reader (18+)

Request: Hey! I read your Shinobu NSFW thing. I was wondering if you could write a Mitsuri NSFW thing but not as intense? Like Mitsuri and her female S/o are cuddling and things get a really steamy so they start kissing and fingering each other? Please and thank you!

A/N: REPOSTING because when I posted this a few hours ago it was glitching and not showing up in tags and stuff :( sorry to anyone who has already seen it!

I love Mitsuri and I get so few f/f reqs so ty for the request 💕 Y’all know idk how to write true vanilla so this is a little more spicy (Mitsuri and reader are not in an established relationship), but I made it soft just for you anon

Summary: When the most popular girl in school offers to help you practice kissing, it’s not like you’re going to say no.

Tags/warnings: inexperienced reader, femme preppy Mitsuri, she’s a little soft dom? like just a tiny bit, mild orgasm control, fluffy smut, crushes, modern high school AU, heteronormativity, reader thinks she’s straight lmao, all characters are adults

Okay, Mitsuri isn’t just the queen bee of your school. She’s also the prettiest girl you’ve ever met. It shouldn’t be possible for a person to be that beautiful, much less fair—what was god thinking when he gave her that pink and green hair that would look clownish on anyone but her? Those thick, dark eyelashes framing eyes you feel like you could drown in? Those long, perfect legs?

(Not that you stare at her legs or something. It’s just—your school uniform skirts are kind of short, and she always wears those striped thigh-highs, and she sits next to you in senior Biology and sometimes she stretches her legs out in the aisle between your desks and flexes them while she sighs during long lectures, and seriously, her legs are perfect.)

Mitsuri is the kind of girl who gets asked out by a different guy every other day. She has a fan club. Boys write Mr. _____ Kanroji in their notebooks, circle it with hearts, and fantasize about marrying her. She has more ex-boyfriends than you have Facebook friends. So you’re really sure why, somehow, you two have become…close?

If you have to, you can trace your friendship back to that Biology class. The teacher has a bad habit of cold-calling students for answers to questions, which makes him pretty unpopular. You’ve gotten used to it over the months, deciding that rebelling is a less productive method of dealing with it than just making sure to review the textbook chapters at least twice before every class, but apparently Mitsuri isn’t quite as familiar with the material.

When the teacher calls on her (a bit vindictively, you think, probably because she’s chewing pink bubblegum and drawing cherry blossoms in the composition book she’s supposed to be taking notes in) to ask her something about determining whether an organism’s life cycle exhibits zygotic, gametic, or sporic meiosis, she just gapes blankly back at him.

You feel sorry for her. It’s always painful to watch when someone can’t answer a question in class—you might be a fairly good student, but you still sympathize with how embarrassing it is to be put on the spot like that. The teacher refuses to move on, repeating her name and prodding her until her face is flushed bright pink and her lower lip is trembling. You’re not trying to pity her, but you can’t help it, and before you can think better of it you’re writing ‘compare diploid and haploid forms’ in the corner of your notebook and surreptitiously sliding it her way.

After the class, she pulls you aside in the hallway to thank you, eyes bright, telling you you’re so smart and kind and thoughtful and wondering how come she’s never talked to you before. “What a waste! We sat next to each other all semester, and I’m only getting to know you now.”

No wonder she’s popular. Her exuberance is infectious, like her good mood is seeping into your skin from her hand wrapped around yours. Mitsuri isn’t just pretty, she’s the kind of person who makes you feel good about herself just by being near her.

You’re about 100% sure that’s the last time the two of you will talk (unless she needs help with Bio homework and decides you’re the best candidate to get answers from). But it’s not. Mitsuri insists on treating you to boba after class—you try to deny her but she refuses to hear it and you can’t say no to her when she looks at you with those pretty jade-chip eyes. You get milk tea with black tapioca pearls swimming in caramelized fried sugar; her drink is jasmine rose fruit tea with tiny cubes of green apple floating at the top. “It looks like your hair,” you tell her, motioning toward the pink-and-green drink.

“Really?” Mitsuri’s cheeks turn red, which you notice is a frequent occurrence for her. “That’s why I got it. Isn’t it cute? I love how pretty all of the drinks are at this teahouse.”

The two of you split a little matcha cake. And then a vanilla taro cake. And then Mitsuri orders sweet potato fries and gyoza and fried chicken and shrimp tempura and wow, this girl can eat. “I kind of have a big appetite,” she tells you shyly some time around her fourth order of hanami dango. “Sorry, is it weird?”

“Not at all! It’s cute,” you blurt out, and then immediately cover your mouth. Cute? Where did that come from? That’s not the kind of thing you’re supposed to be saying to a girl you barely even know, or is it? Maybe you’re overthinking this. Mitsuri is so beautiful it’s hard to think straight around her.

You’re so busy staring down at your lap and blushing that you don’t notice she’s doing the same thing.

Mitsuri seems to take that teashop date hangout as permission to pursue a full-fledged friendship with you. Before you know it, she’s inviting herself over to your house after school, dragging you to cafés and picnics to study together on the weekends, and begging you to sit with her at lunch. Her other friends don’t seem thrilled at your being her favorite new playmate, but she doesn’t mind it so you try not to, either.

Like right now. It’s a weekend, and she’s decided that her house is going to be the setting for an overnight Bio study session slash sleepover in anticipation of the test you have coming up. You’re scouring the textbook for an answer at her desk while Mitsuri lies on her stomach on her bed with her feet kicked up behind her and crossed at the ankles. Graded quizzes are spread out in an arc around her on the cotton candy-colored duvet, and the sparkly gel pen she’s using to write flash cards is poking out of the corner of her mouth. With her fair skin barely covered by a tank top and shorts, loose hair flowing over her back, and dark brows furrowed in concentration, she looks like the centerfold of a teen magazine from the 90s.

I bet guys have wet dreams about her, you think. Then you shut down that line of thinking, shut it all the way down because you’re not supposed to be thinking these things about a female friend, no matter how pretty she is or how glossy her lips look even though she’s just wearing chapstick or how good she smells (like strawberries? honey? or whatever sweet she ate last, you’re not sure). But you can’t quite tamp down the feeling that you’ve stumbled on some unbelievable luck to get close to her.

You’re not the only one having trouble focusing on your studies. “I’m done with this!” Mitsuri exclaims, throwing down her pen so it makes a stray line on the quiz she was reviewing before it bounces off the bed. “I’m so tired of studying, aren’t you? If I learn another thing about cell division my brain is going to explode. Can’t we take a break?”

“Sure, if you want to get another 43%. Didn’t your dad say he’s going to stop paying your snack food fund if you fail one more exam?”

Her pink mouth drops open. “Hey! That’s not fair, I didn’t tell you that to use it against me. Be nice.”

But after a second, Mitsuri’s pout turns into a giggle. She hooks her foot around the stem of the office chair you’re sitting in and pulls it toward the bed along with you. “Come on! Let’s talk about love. Do you have a crush?”

You roll your eyes but relent, sliding off the chair and onto the big, fluffy bed next to Mitsuri. You can always get back to reviewing after you take a short break, right? She gathers up the quizzes and notecards and dumps them unceremoniously on the nightstand by her bed to make space for you, all too eager to stop thinking about Bio.

“I don’t have a crush,” you tell her.

“Really? There’s no one you think is cute? No one you want to get to know a little better?”

Well…if that’s what she means… You glance sideways at her. There’s definitely someone you think is cute who you want to get to know better. She doesn’t have to know it’s her—not that you have a crush on her; that would be ridiculous.

If she’s going to get that excited about your potential crush, how are you supposed to tell her you don’t have one? You’ll just have to pretend, for her sake. “I guess there’s someone. I wouldn’t call it love, but…”

Long black lashes flutter up at you as Mitsuri blinks. “Oh my gosh, who is it?”

“It’s a secret,” you say quickly.

“Aww, but I wanna know who you have a crush on!” She scooches closer to you and pokes you gently in the side. “Do I know him? Is he a senior? What does he look like? What do you like about him?”

“Um yeah, you know…him. He’s a senior but you’ll never—seriously never guess who it is, so don’t even try. He’s…really good-looking, I don’t know. He has nice hair…and, um, nice legs. And he…” you trail off, wondering what you can say about your secret ‘crush’ that won’t tip Mitsuri off that you’re talking about her.

“…I like him. He talks a lot but you can tell he cares about what you’re saying when he’s listening to you. He’s kind of dreamy and self-conscious about dumb things but it just makes me like him more.”

Was that too much? Mitsuri is looking into your eyes in pure rapture, holding onto every word you say. Are you being obvious? But—no way. She’s so loved by guys that she’d never even suspect that a girl could like her too.

Not that you like her. Not like that, at least.

After a moment when you feel your heart beating so deeply that you’re sure she can hear it too, she smiles sweetly and pinches your cheek. “You’re really pretty when you’re talking about your crush, (Y/N). You look like a maiden.”

You bite your lip, not sure whether to be embarrassed or flattered. If any other girl as beautiful as Mitsuri called you pretty, you’d think they were being insincere, but she’s not like that. Her genuine affection shines through in everything she does. If you’re pretty, she’s Helen of Troy.

“What do you mean, ‘a maiden’?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” Mitsuri says, tracing invisible hearts into her bedspread with a fingertip. “You just look…innocent somehow? Like this is your first love.”

You duck down, blushing.

“Wait, really?” She sits up and easily flips you over onto your back (sometimes you forget that a decade of cheerleading has made her at least a dozen times as strong as you are) so she can blink brightly at you. “This is your first love? Ooh…”

“Is that so weird?” you ask a little defensively. “I don’t get a lot of crushes.”

“No, it’s not weird! It’s cute,” Mitsuri says. “But aren’t you nervous? What if you fall in love with him and you guys start dating and you don’t know how to do anything?”

“Do what?”

“You know. Like, kissing and stuff. Aren’t you worried that you’ll have your first kiss with him and he’ll be like, ‘oh my gosh, you can’t even kiss, I don’t like you anymore’.”

“No one would say that,” you reply, but the scenario does strike a pang of anxiousness in your heart. You’ve always been too focused on school and friends and family to bother worrying about love, but the truth is you have worried about the fact that you’re soon going to be a high school graduate who has never so much as kissed another person on the lips.

“You have no idea,” Mitsuri sighs. “Boys are so mean. But I can’t believe you haven’t had your first kiss!”

“That’s rude,” you say, wrinkling your nose.

She flaps her hands in the air frantically. “No, no I didn’t mean it like that! Sorry! I just meant I can’t believe you’ve never had a boyfriend when you’re so pretty and nice. The boy who locks you down is going to feel super lucky that he gets to take all of your firsts.”

You sit up next to Mitsuri and lean back on her cushioned headboard. “I don’t care about that. Honestly, I’d rather have some practice before I get involved with anyone.”

A beat passes. Then— “Really? You want practice?”

You shrug. “I mean, I guess? But it’s not like I can just pick up some random guy and tell him to let me practice kissing.”

Mitsuri cocks her head to the side and long pink fringe falls away from her face. “You don’t need to do that. Just practice with me.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” What, is she going to give you tips on tongue technique or something?

“…Like this,” Mitsuri says softly—and then her delicate hand is stroking up the side of your jaw and carding into your hair, tilting your head to face hers and pulling you closer. She hesitates before she makes contact, looking in your eyes as if to confirm are you okay with this? But (maybe because you’re caught off guard, maybe because you think you do need the practice, or maybe because that angelic strawberry-honey smell is way too intoxicating up close) you don’t stop her, and she leans in and completes the kiss.

It’s soft. Smells sweet. Tastes sweeter.

Mitsuri’s lips are velvety and glossy-damp moving against yours. The scent you thought was honey is really honeysuckle—there’s a fresh floral quality to the taste as her lip balm is transferred from her mouth to yours.

The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but by the time she lifts back from you your lips are tingling. You cover your mouth with your hand like a damsel from a Victorian-era novel and stare wide-eyed at her.

“How was that? Your first kiss?”

“I—um, I liked it I think?”

Mitsuri smiles at you and it’s like a ray of sunlight falling down through a break in the clouds. “Yay! I’m glad.”

The two of you sit in silence for a second, and you wonder what you’re supposed to do now. Go back to studying? You’re not sure you’re capable of that when you feel like she’s…still kissing you. It hasn’t quite hit you yet that this is your first kiss—something special, something you’ll never forget. The feeling of Mitsuri kissing you is going to be written on your heart for the rest of your life.

What have I done? you think, but it’s not condemnatory. It’s a question, maybe neutral, maybe hopeful.

“Come on, come here,” Mitsuri says. “You need a little more practice.”

And then she’s kissing you again, all the while pulling you closer, closer, into her lap. She breaks the kiss just long enough to murmur to you to open your mouth. When you do, her tongue slips in, prodding gently between your lips and sliding up against yours. It’s a weird feeling—you can’t say with certainty that it feels good, but it doesn’t feel bad, either. It feels like something you could get used to.

This kiss is longer and deeper, and Mitsuri is sighing into the place where your lips meet. The kissing sounds are both embarrassing and thrilling. You can hardly believe that you’re actually doing this, kissing Mitsuri Kanroji in her bedroom and sitting in her lap with your thighs hovering over hers because you’re scared to let yourself press any deeper into her.

By the fourth kiss, you think you’re getting the hang of this. Your fingers are laced in Mitsuri’s hair, pulling her bangs out of the way so you can see her face clearly. Her eyes are hazy and intense, a warm glow suffusing her cheeks, and her lips are reddened. The feeling of not knowing whether you like having her tongue in your mouth or not is gone. You like it. You want more of it. You could do this all day.

…But apparently Mitsuri has something else in mind. She moves back and looks at you like she’s got a secret she’s dying to tell you. Her hands slide up your thighs, almost reaching the hem of the skirt you’re wearing—it’s knee-length, comfortable and practical for the weather—but with your legs spread over hers, the fabric is bunched up at the juncture of your hips and legs, exposing your thighs to view. Mitsuri’s fingernails (manicured, short blunt French tips, pale pink with stripes of gold near the nail bed) scratch painlessly into your skin. “You learn really fast, (Y/N).”

“Thanks…” you pant out.

“Can I do a little more? Just a little. ‘Cause, I mean, I don’t know if you’ve ever done this yourself—”

Oh. Oh? Mitsuri’s hand is creeping up under your skirt.

“—but it’s really good to have some experience with this, too, before you do anything with boys.”

She’s touching your pussy through your underwear. Those pretty manicured hands are stroking you through the fabric, fingertips sliding up between your lips with practiced precision. Oh god, can she feel how wet you are? You’ve felt that dewy heat growing at your core for a while, but you didn’t think she would touch you and feel it. “Mitsuri?”

“Are you already wet?” Two soft fingers pet your clit, moving over it side to side through your panties. “Did you get wet for me?”

“Mm—mm—Mitsuri…”

“Can I touch?” She pops her chin up and kisses you on the cheek, and then again on the other cheek, the side of your mouth, your forehead, all the while rubbing your pussy.

On the sixth teasing little kiss, you gasp and kiss her fully on the lips. “…okay?”

“Good…” Mitsuri smoothly pushes your ass up so she can hook fingers under the waistband of your panties and tug them down past your hips. You shift and let her do it—it feels like her touch is too hot, sending trails of warmth over every place where your skin meets. Her touch lingers even as you awkwardly straighten out of her lap for just as long as it takes to remove your panties and deposit them gracelessly on the floor.

Are you doing this right? Even with your shirt and skirt on, you feel more exposed than you’ve ever been in front of another person. You’ve never done anything remotely like this before—how weird is it that the first person to touch you is going to be a female friend? That you’re not doing this for the right reasons (and what are the ‘right reasons’? love? intimacy? desire?), but for practice?

Mitsuri settles you back onto her lap and slowly drags your shirt up over your bra. When the undergarment is exposed, she bites her bottom lip and sucks in a breath, and you feel eternally grateful that you, by some coincidence or trick of fate, decided to wear one of your nicer bras today. She cups the side of your breasts and runs her thumbs over the lacy wine-red fabric. “Beautiful…you’re so sexy, (Y/N). I can’t believe I get you all to myself.”

Your cheeks feel hot. Maybe desire is part of the equation after all.

Leaving your shirt bunched up over your tits, Mitsuri returns to your pussy, petting over your thighs and stroking up your mound. Her index finger dabs into the wetness leaking out of you and then circles around your clit.

Around your clit, not on it. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she’s deliberately not touching the place where you want— need to be touched. Her fingers are light and fluttery, not forceful in the least but making you crave more anyway. You try not to let your hips move, but before long you’re twitching on her fingers, trying to get her to do what you want. Your hands are braced uselessly on the headboard, but you hesitantly pick up your right hand to replace hers and touch your clit properly.

She isn’t having it. Her free hand catches yours before you can do anything. “Arms around my neck,” she tells you.

It’s frustrating to be unable to touch yourself when she just keeps building and building with these little flutters, but you trust her. Mitsuri’s a lot more experienced than you are. Slowly, you wrap your arms around her neck and wind your fingers into her loose hair.

Whatever she’s doing, though, it’s working. Even if you couldn’t feel how wet you are, you’d be able to hear it, the slick sucking sounds of your cunt dampened with your arousal. You’d be humiliated by the way it’s so obvious that you’re turned on if you were cable of thinking straight. Besides, Mitsuri doesn’t mind—at least not judging by the way she’s looking at you.

“Mitsuri…Mitsuri, can you…” You don’t know how to ask her, but you need more.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” Two fingers brush over your clit again and you almost flinch, the light contact sending a spark directly through you. “Tell me what you do when you do this by yourself.”

“I…um…it’s embarrassing…”

“It’s not embarrassing.” Mitsuri lays a short peck on your cheek. “Do you know how pretty you look? I could fall in love with you right now.”

It’s not serious. It’s just the kind of thing Mitsuri says without thinking, but your heart skips a beat anyway. “Touch—a little harder…”

“Where?”

“You know where!” you tell Mitsuri, with as much bite as you can muster.

Mitsuri smiles. “Here?” She pushes a finger into your pussy and you whimper. “Or…here?”

And she’s touching your clit, rubbing over it quickly and franticly, the first direct contact you’ve had since she started. The muscles in your back tense, legs stiffening, toes curling in your fluffy white socks. “Oh— oh, oh, oh— Mitsuri…”

“Does that feel good?”

After all her teasing, it feels more than good. It’s like you’re being filled up with something, some kind of heat that her fingers are bringing out in you, and it’s about to tip over and spill out. You rock your cunt against her fingers, trying to get her to go harder—but she’s already rubbing against you so quickly that you can’t think straight.

Two fingers slip deeper into your pussy, spreading you apart and pumping your slick cunt while her palm provides sloppy stimulation to your clit. You mewl and fall forward onto her, head thrown over her shoulder, so you can feel the vibration of her soft laughter in your chest. “Do you like it? I can tell…you know, your insides are holding me really tight….”

How does she say such dirty things with that pretty mouth? You’d tell her off if you thought you could speak without moaning. “Unff…mmm…”

“I’m going to make you cum, baby,” Mitsuri hums. “You’re going to cum on my fingers, okay?”

She’s right. You’re about to tip over that edge, overflow, get off with Mitsuri fucking you with two fingers twisting and hitting your g-spot and sliding over you so deliciously that you don’t even care that all of this is wrong. “I’m— I’m cumming—“

“Uh-uh.” Mitsuri’s hand stops, still touching but no longer moving, and the heat in your pussy plateaus and then dips.

You’re so frustrated you want to scream. “Mitsuri…!”

“Can you do something for me?” She resumes the teasing movements from before, edging over your clit but not finishing it. “Tell me who you really like.”

“What?”

“I know you like me.” Her free hand, around your waist, slides up and presses her thumb into the divot between two vertebrae in your spine. “When you were talking about your crush, I know it’s me. Tell me you like me.”

“I—I don’t—“

“No, you do. You like me. Say it. Say it, and I’ll let you cum. You want to cum, don’t you? You need it? I’m going to give you what you need, so tell me you like me…”

It’s not like she’s being cruel. Mitsuri’s tone is as sweet and kind and caring as ever. Her pace is agonizingly slow and she’s right, you need it. You’re lucky your chin is resting on her shoulder because you wouldn’t be able to stand it if she saw the look on your face as you choke out, “I like…I like you, Mitsuri! I like you!”

“I like you too, (Y/N),” Mitsuri gasps, and then her fingers are moving again, rubbing your clit, making you crazy, and it’s only a second but you want it so bad that you only need a second before you— you’re— you’re falling apart—

“Mitsuri!”

Oh god. Oh god. It feels good, it feels crazy. You can’t think. You can feel the muscles in your pussy squeezing down intermittently on her fingers. She holds you still as the shocks race up through you, letting you twitch and convulse in her arms.

“See now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mitsuri sings in your ear.

It takes you a long moment to get the strength to sit up, flopping bonelessly backward on her thighs so you can look her in the eye. “I don’t know,” you sigh finally. “Wasn’t exactly easy.”

Her eyes close when she smiles. “Don’t worry about it. You just need a little more practice.”

[adg1115]

I Need Your Help Ronnie

"Veronica, you better get up now or you are going to be late for school."

"Ummph," I mumbled into my pillow as I turned my head towards where my dad's voice came. I didn't get much sleep last night. Every time I closed my eyes, Lilly would come visit me. This is not the first time she came to give me some afterlife guidance. The first time she appeared to me, I cried for three hours straight. Now, I have gotten used to seeing her face in my dreams and usually it is comforting. She always looks so peaceful in my dreams - like an angel.

Lilly tried to remind me of the good times I had with Logan. Like the time my mom was so drunk she forgot to come pick me up from pep squad practice. Lilly and Duncan were out of town and my dad was still at work. When Logan picked me up he could tell how upset I was so he took me to the boardwalk and filled me full of junk food. We stayed out until my legs couldn't move anymore then drove home in silence. Before I headed into my house, he told me that anytime I needed another day at the boardwalk he would gladly oblige. Every time my mother drunk herself into a stupor, he was always a phone call away. We never had to talk about why he was there.

"Veronica get up now!"

"I'm up!" I yelled dragging myself out of bed and into the kitchen. "I don't smell bacon."

"Did you not sleep well dear?" My dad asked completely ignoring my need for bacon. He stepped closer to me to exam the dark circles under my eyes.

"Eh, what is this sleep you speak of?"

"What's going on Veronica?" Dad asked in his fatherly tone.

"Ahh the usual-late night out with Chico and Tyrone. Hmmm, those boys," I said trying to distract dad. Yeah I know I should probably tell him. Oh nothing is going on dad except being visited by my dead best friend's ghost who is trying to convince me to ease up on the guy who made the last year of my life a living hell and take his case of the missing offspring. Yeah, I don't think so.

"Veronica."

"Seriously, it's nothing dad. I was just up late studying last night." Which wasn't a total lie, I did read a page from my English assignment.

"Whatever you say honey," dad said as he kissed the top of my head. "I got a lead on a bail jumper in Nevada and I will be heading out after I run by the office. Or I could stay…"

"No. Go. I'm fine," I said as I shooed dad out the house. I really didn't want to be alone but I also really really didn't want to talk about my feelings.

I had done my best to find Logan the next day at school. If he himself wouldn't have come to me begging for help, I would have thought he wanted nothing to do with me. I knew how much this would mean to Logan. He used to talk to about how he would marry Lilly and have several children causing their own chaos out in the world.

On my way to my locker after lunch I spotted him. Maybe I could take longer at my locker than usual and corner him before the tardy bell rung for next period. Or I could cowboy up and just talk to him, since he does need my help.

"Hey. Can I talk to you?" I asked Logan. I'm sure he and his toadies were discussing what 'bitchin' party they were going to this weekend or what 'gnarly' waves they were going to surf. I could honestly care less. And the fact that I had to breathe in the same air as those uptight '09ers made this interaction even less appealing.

He turned towards me with an evil smirk on his face. Oh shit. "I just can't take the begging. I'll relent, just once - but no cuddling after, and I won't call you in the morning." Oh and there he is ladies and gentlemen! Logan Echolls, jackass extraordinaire. I know it's his defense mechanism and I shouldn't probably bring this up in front of his groupies but his avoiding me wouldn't bring his kid home any faster.

"Smooth Echolls. Just forget about it, I can't believe I was actually feeling sorry for you." I didn't give him time to respond as I headed to my next class. If he wanted to act like he didn't need my help, I would play right along with him.

Once school let out I headed to dad's office to print out a billing sheet stating exactly what the cost of my services would be. Ha Logan would get a kick out of that! I put all the paperwork in a manila envelope and headed over to the Echolls estate. The sooner I started this the sooner it would be over.

The last time I was at Logan's house was the day of Lilly's funeral. Logan and I just sat around stuffing our faces with junk food and watching movies. Neither one of us spoke about the fact we just lowered my best friend or the love of his life down in the ground. It was all surreal walking back to the pool house where Mrs. Navarro said Logan would be. And of course there he was wasting all his brain cells on a mindless video game. His stupidity made so much sense now.

"I love the smell of testosterone in the evening."

"This is why I suggested attack dogs. But no, my mother wanted an alpaca." I could tell he was mad at me but at this point I really didn't care.

"I brought some paperwork dealing with your case. If we could just go over a couple of points, I will begin the search for your daughter."

That sure got his attention and he was across the room in a second grabbing the top of my arm leading me further into the pool house slamming the door behind us.

"God Veronica, do you know what my dad will do if he hears about this? Or do you just not care anymore?"

"I wasn't trying to get you in trouble Logan but until you talk to me about this, there is nothing I can do for you. I seem to recall trying in school but that didn't work either." I gave him my best 'innocent' face. "Can we please just talk about this so I can get back to work and you can get back to whatever it is you are doing?"

He led me over to where a poker table was set up and took a seat right next to mine. You could cut the tension with a knife and I honestly hated that but I didn't know how to act around him anymore. He wasn't the Logan that was my best friend. He was damaged. Hell, we both are.

Besides the occasional head nod and grunt of agreement there was hardly any response from Logan. He shut down on me and I was glad for that. It would make my job so much easier.

"This is a list of my cost depending on which services you are looking for." That brought a small smile to his face. "Since its obvious you don't want to be seen with me at school or in public, I think it will best if we don't contact each other unless we have something of importance to share."

"Ronnie it wasn't like that."

"Logan this is for the best. We will keep it professional."

His face fell a little and I almost wanted to apologize – almost.

"Fine Veronica, just let me know as soon as you find something out." And with that he was up and showing me to the door.

That night I had trouble sleeping again. I hated the fact Logan got himself into this situation and came to me for help but what I hated the most was that I wasn't there for him when he needed someone. He couldn't turn to his parents and his friends were only his friends because of his status and money. His only real friend left is Duncan but he was lost somewhere inside his head and never came out to play.

Since I wouldn't be getting any sleep, I figured it wouldn't hurt to start on his case. As I guessed, not much came back on his summer lover, Amanda Washington. He was unsure of her father's name but knew her mother's name was something like Cindy or Candy or Bambi, your typical trophy wife name. I would get my dad to run Amanda's cell phone number tomorrow and see what came of that.

"You look rough, supafly." Along with trying to solve the case of the missing Echolls, I also was helping my dad with some of his cases he got backed up on, studying for upcoming first semester midterms, and trying to prove that the best teacher in school did, in fact, not have sex with that skank Carrie Bishop. Sleep was only something I could wish for.

"Thanks." I mumbled out to my best friend.

"Hey, listen I'm not going to be around at lunch but maybe we can hang out later. I know you are missing you some bff time."

"Yeah that sounds good Wallace," I said as Wallace practically skipped down the hall. That boy was much too happy for it being as early as it was. When I opened my locker, I noticed a folded piece of paper stuck between my books. A love note perhaps? More like hate mail.

Meet me in your office fourth period. That's all the mystery note said. Three guesses as to who the note was from the first two don't count.

[birdsandspades]

I Was Never Good at Waiting (Sugawara X Reader) Chapter 6

- It was your last year in highschool, everything had been going smoothly until you got assigned the new teacher. Sugawara Koushi was handsome, maybe too handsome for his own good. Be he wasn't flirting with you right, teachers shouldn't do that....I guess we will see where this year goes.

Word Count - 5,459

----

It had been a few weeks since you last spoke to Sugawara. You weren’t really sure what words to say to him at this point. Sure you were still mad, he was after all a huge ass for talking to you the way he did. But you couldn’t help but feel bad for your actions as well. For all you knew, the sweet glances, the soft smiles, the entrancing conversations. Well maybe you had exaggerated his intentions a little. Maybe he was just uncomfortable, stuck in a situation he didn’t know how to escape. But god dammit, you were not going to ask him for help with your math homework. 

Your grade had tanked in the last few weeks. You did the work, put in all the motions. But your brain just wasn’t soaking up the sweet, sweet academic knowledge. This was the reason Oikawa was stationed at your dining room table, looking through your math book just as confused as you had moments before. 

You had tried to call Iwaizumi for the extra help instead, but he was on a romantic getaway with his significant other. “Call Tooru-sensei F/N, you know he would come if you asked.” Iwaizumi was clearly not interested in helping you, even if he was home you would have been out of luck.

“But you were the one who tutored him in school Hajime. Do you really think he's gonna be any help to me?” You groaned in response.

He knew you had a point. The boy’s brain only operated on three levels, volleyball, girls, and a very small sliver, an absolutely miniscule piece, was dedicated to harassing you.“Figure it out F/N, I'll see you at the spring tournament ok?” Iwaizumi tried his best to understand your situation, but that didn’t mean he wanted to actively continue this conversation. 

“Ok Hajime.” Your voice was soft, not wanting to press the matter further. You listened as the line died, your only hope fading out with it.

Now that you thought about it, you might feel worse for Oikawa at the moment. He was clearly about to blow a gasket trying to figure out where the X went in your problem. “This one has a typo, let's skip ahead.” 

You rolled your eyes as he turned to the next page of your book. “Senpai, you’ve said that about the last five problems.”You were getting annoyed now. He had skipped over almost every problem you attempted so far. These were only the warmup questions, what would happen when he got to the actual work?

He looked up, frowning at your displeased tone.“Well maybe they should have checked over the book better.” He shrugged slightly, lowering his shoulders in defeat. 

This man was no help. 

“Snacks incoming!” Your mom smiled, leaning over the table to set down the plate in her hand.

She had come home for the weekend with your grandfather to check in on you. They would make the trip maybe once a month just to make sure you were well stocked on food and the bills were getting paid. She had been pleasantly surprised to find Oikawa with you when she returned home from shopping. Giddy to dot on the boy while she had the chance.

She loved him, and always had. She thought of you two as inseparable, even now when his job took him across the ocean. Wherever you went, he was never hard to find. Whether it be phone calls, strange gifts that reminded him of you, or even visiting whenever he had the free time. She knew he would always be near. That was one reason she agreed to let you stay home while she was in Tokyo. Even when she was gone, you were safe with him. He would do anything for you, that was perfectly clear. 

“Tooru don’t work so hard honey.” She cooed, rubbing small circles into his back. 

 “Mom, what about me? It's my homework.” You whined at the lack of attention, pulling the book from Oikawa’s hands.

Wiggling a finger your way she shook her head. “You need to work harder! You're failing the class, not him.” She frowned your way as you sank into your chair.

You felt defeated. Between your useless cousin, the single brain cell Oikawa had, and your  grumpy mother it was inevitable. You slapped your hands together, bowing your head in prayer. “I know we don’t talk often, but please don’t make me have to ask Sugawara-sensei for help on Monday. Kill me instead, anything but talking to him.”

“F/N, don’t start praying! I’ll figure it out! I’m sure I can find the X...” He pulled the book from your hands, frantically flipping through the pages.

The weekend came to an end, and you were in no better shape for your class. Your mother and grandfather had left Sunday night to return to Tokyo, the trip home ending far too soon.  

“F/N, make sure you water the garden once a day ok, and don’t stay up all night playing video games. That animal island game can wait, Pudge, that's his name right? Well he can wait for your homework to be done, and please stop eating spicy ramen for every meal. Your tummy is gonna hurt.” She rambled on as she checked that all the bags were lined up at the train station stop. She looked back up at you, letting out an exaggerated sigh. She grabbed the sides of your open coat, pulling it together roughly as she zipped it up to your chin. “And wear your coat properly, you’ll catch cold like that!”

The train rumbled into the station, easing to a stop at the yellow lines in front of you and your family. The doors slid open, a small rush of passengers exiting as they continued on their ways.

“Ok mom, bye love you!” You hugged her tightly before spinning her around. You gave her a light push as she grabbed her bags, walking her to the open doors. You turned around, chuckling at your amused grandfather. You walked over to him, resting into his outstretched arms. You looked up, nose brushing his coat as you smiled. “Please don’t ever change grandpa, you're the only normal member of our family.” 

He smiled back down at you, giving you a reassuring squeeze.“I love you too peaches, everythings gonna turn out just fine, I promise.” He gave you a wink, his hand dipping into your coat pocket. “Don’t waste it!” He teased, as leaned over to pick up his bag. 

You watched as he joined your mother on the train, waving at you as he sat down. The train doors closed, pulling away from the station as it continued on to Tokyo. You reached into your pocket, pulling out a folded 2,000 yen note. You laughed as you put it back. “How does grandpa always know what to say, truly a man of infinite wisdom.” You waved the train off as it disappeared down the tracks.

----

You had snoozed your alarm one too many times Monday morning, finally realizing your mistake twenty minutes before your first train left the station. You would have loved to say you were up all night doing something fun, maybe beating Doom for the third time this month, or catching up on your manga. But you had woken up at the table in your room, drool sticking the homework you had used as a pillow to your face.

You were rushing to get ready, throwing on your uniform as you frantically stuffed your books into your bag. Before long you were out of time, tripping down the stairs as you pulled up your sock. You had no time for lunch, you didn’t even have time to fix your bedhead. You ran out the front door, relying on the auto lock as you sped towards the main road. You attempted to tie your hair up as you rounded the corner to the crosswalk, the red hand illuminated from the other side of the road. You looked at the pole, both hands occupied in your mess of hair. You lifted your leg, kicking the button a few times as you impatiently waited for your turn to cross.  Once it did you bolted across the street, shouting apologies as you pushed your way down the stairs and toward your approaching train. You barely squeezed past the closing doors, still attempting to catch your breath as the train pulled away from the station.

Collapsing into your seat you pulled out your bag to check that you had everything for your day. Homework (still kinda wet), text books, lunch (if you could call a bag of chips lunch), practice gear. Where was your practice gear? You attempted to recall your morning, thinking back to the last time you had everything in your sight.  

“So I woke up, got dressed, put on my sweater backwards, put my things on the table, made lunch, and then I….left it on the fucking table.” The train pulled into it's first stop, the doors opening for the waiting passengers. You stood up, pushing your way past the crowd as you ran for the next train home. This just wasn’t your day.

----

You couldn’t believe how late you were when you finally made it to the school. “It’s 9:30, i’m screwed.” You mouthed, taking your tardy slip from the office attendant. You rushed up the school stairs, trying to make it to your classroom as fast as possible. As if that would change the fact that you were an hour late to school. You ran a sweaty hand over your messy hair before pulling the classroom door open. You closed it quietly, turning around slowly to an empty classroom.

Sugawara sat with his feet propped up on the desk at the front of the room. His phone in his hands as he scrolled through emails. 

“Sensei, i’m sorry i’m late...” You mumbled, looking at the rows of empty desks. You made your way to the front of the room, setting the tardy slip on his desk.

“L/N-san, why aren't you on the bus? They are leaving for the field trip!” Sugawara’s eyes went wide as he looked up at you from his phone. He stood up from his seat, glancing between you and the piece of paper. 

“Field trip? Was the field trip to the science museum today?” Your face dropped as you realised just what day it was. Sure it was Monday, the first Monday of the month. The first Monday of the month when they take all the students to the 3M Sendai Science Museum.

“Maybe we can still get you on the last buses?” Sugawara wrapped a hand around your wrist, pulling you behind him as he ran down the hallway and out to the south gym. 

“How are they already all gone…” Sugawara knew the last bus had left at 9:00, but he had hoped to at least see some transportation left.

You looked at the empty lot, not a single bus in sight. What were you going to do now, they had shipped out the entire school for this field trip. 

“Is there any way we can get her to the museum, I could drive her?” Sugawara was now at the front office, nervously talking with the secretary. 

“I’m sorry, but she’s just going to have to spend the day in her classroom.” The woman gave you an apologetic look. She mouthed a few words to Sugawara, too quiet to make out before walking back to your desk.

Sugawara turned back to you, motioning for you to follow him back to the classroom as he walked past you.

 Once you got back to the classroom you made your way to your desk, silently sliding into your seat. You looked over to your teacher, shifting uncomfortably as your eyes met his.

“Well you can work on any extra work you have. If you have any questions, i'll be in my office.” He leaned back on his heels before turning to enter his office. The door clicked closed behind him, the only sound left being the ticking of the clock on the wall.

You nodded to yourself, excepting that again today was just not your fucking day.

You had finished most of your work by 11:00, but the day was far from over. You looked at your last assignment, the creased ends of the page sticking out of the end of your math book. You had saved it for last for no other reason then to not do it. But the day was moving by so slowly, and you were going to have to finish it eventually.

“I might as well ask, i’m not going to finish this by myself.” You pulled at the paper, sliding it out of the book inch by inch. You could see the mess of work etched into the white sheet, the ghosts of prior mistakes partially erased in the background. “Sensei, could you help me with this problem?” You squeaked out the question, holding your breath as you listened for movement behind the office door. “Maybe if he doesn’t hear me I can just give up and take a nap.” You weren’t quiet enough, the door opening as Sugawara made his way over to your desk.

Sugawara pulled a chair over from the adjustment desk, taking a seat next to you. He motioned for you to show him the question, looking down at the paper in front of you. You felt it was better for him to just see the whole paper at this point. You slid the work to him, watching as his face contorted in confusion. He picked up your pencil, marking spots as he attempted to work through whatever thought process you had had. 

“Oikawa tried to help me…” You added, hoping he wouldn’t think all the stupidity on the paper was you. 

Laying it back in front of you, he handed you back your pencil. “You're close, it's a simple mistake really.” He leaned over the desk, resting his elbow on the table and his head in his hand as he guided you through your missteps. 

You always loved how he would say that. “A simple mistake. ”Like it was easily fixable. It made your confidence skyrocket, that's probably why he was such a good teacher. You watched him work through a few, briefly stopping at each step to check back in with you. 

“Yeah, you got it, see I knew you could do it!” His brilliant smile made your stomach flutter. It was a fleeting slight, soon he had turned his attention back to the problems. 

“Thank you sensei.” You smiled to yourself, moving on to the next question on your sheet.

 After a few minutes Sugawara had deemed you on the right path, standing up to return to his office. He closed the door, leaving a small gap as he disappeared from view.

“And he’s gone…” You had liked the company, a pleasant change from the quiet classroom you had been sitting in for the past three hours. 

A few minutes later he emerged from his office, ,a stack of papers in hand as he walked over to his desk. Sitting down, he propped his feet up on the desk. He set a small pile of papers on his lap, pulling the cap off a red pen as he started to grade. He peaked up for a moment, giving you a quick smile before turning over the paper in his hand.

You watched him for a while, taken aback by his sudden change of mood. For weeks he had been cold and distant, avoid you like the plague. But here he was, choosing to sit in the same room, smiling at you. It was baby steps, but steps nonetheless. 

It had felt like you were a flower living under perpetual clouds, but the sun had started to return, and you were basking in it. 

“Sensei?” You called out, pulling nervously at your sleeves.

He looked up at you again, his eyebrow knitting together. 

“It was now of never, just fucking say it, get it over with and say it.” You straightened up in your seat, leaning towards the edge of your chair.“Sensei i’m sorry. What I said was uncalled for, I should have just told you I didn’t want to continue the tutoring lessons. I…my actions were uncalled for and I'm sorry if I put you in an awkward situation.” You looked down at your hands, fingers digging into the material of your skirt. You felt a hand on your head, gently patting your hair down. You tilted your head up slightly, blushing as you met Sugawara’s bright smile.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come off so harsh. You had a right to be uncomfortable talking to me about it.” His voice was soothing, his smile turning soft. His irises twitched, sadness washing over the brown hues as he pulled his hand away. 

“Could we maybe, start over. I really was grateful for you helping me.” You stood up, attempting to stand eye level with the person in front of you. 

Sugawara contemplated the question, uncertainty pulling at his lips. “I don’t know L/N-san, I’m pretty busy.” 

You frowned at his answer, he did have a life after all. Probably friends, pets, maybe even a girlfriend. Of course he would rather spend his time after school with them, not tutoring a student on a subject he didn’t even teach.

“But, if you can promise me you’ll show up. I can give you back your Mondays and Fridays.”He shrugged lightly, amused with your reaction.  

“Thank you so much Sensei, I-i’ll do anything to make up for it!” You bounced up and down on your heels, absolutely ecstatic.  

He cocked his eyebrow at the word anything, chuckling to himself. “Just make sure you make it to the Spring tournament.” He made his way back to his desk as you sat back down.

You had missed the sun.

The rest of the day came and went, the ticking of the clock no longer ringing in your empty ears.

You had finished your work right as the lunch bell rang, officially all out of schoolwork for the day. You and Sugawara ate lunch together in the classroom, taking the time to go over extra problems from your math book. 

“So, if you take away 47, add these totals together and...are you just eating a bag of chips for lunch?” He stared at you in horror as you pulled out the bag, his stomach hurting for you. 

“I um, didn’t have time to make a...yeah, this is all i'm eating. You're looking at me like my mom…” You shrank in your seat, pulling the bag closer. 

He shook his head at you before continuing the lesson. 

The rest of the day you spent in his office, looking over all his belongings as he typed away on his computer. 

“Hey, can you get out of my things. Don’t you have something to do?” He groaned, watching you pick through his book collection.

“Yeah, annoy you.” You rested your finger on a blue book, sliding it out of it's stop. You flipped through the pages, walking over to sit down on the couch.

“Comfy?” he laughed, watching as you rolled over. Your back now on the seat cushions as your head fell off the side of the sofa.

You let your feet rest on the windowsill, crossing your legs as your back sank into the couch. You looked up at him, tilting your head to see him peering down at you. “Yes, quite.” You giggled, laying your head back down.

Once school had officially ended he walked you to the front doors, waving a goodbye as he watched you walk down the courtyard and towards the school gates. The school buses wouldn't be returning for another two hours, but you had no real reason to stay past the normal school hours. Practice had been canceled for the day ,making your extra trip home useless. “But the day hadn’t gone to waste” ,you thought, smiling to yourself.

----

“Koushi, you're coming out. You’ve been so moppy for weeks. Get ready and i'll send you the address.” Daichi yelled into the phone, already at the bar. 

Sugawara ended the call with Daichi and sighed. He just wanted to spend his weekend relaxing, not at some dive bar. But his friends had been harassing him for weeks about not coming out. He was having a hard time coming up with excuses at this point.

 It was already Saturday, an entire week had flown by. You and him were civil again, but not completely the same. He wasn’t sure what to do. Should he leave things as they were, at least you were talking. Or should he press furth, see how close he could get to crossing the line with you. He just didn’t know, and being here tonight wasn’t going to help that.

Sugawara walked into the tiny dive bar, looking around for his friends in the crowd of people.  He found them at the bar, shoulders pressed against the other bar patrons as they attempted to wave down the bartender.Sugawara set a hand on each of their shoulders, turning them slightly to greet them. 

“You're here!” Daichi smiled, pulling his friend into a hug.

“We honestly didn’t expect you to come.” Asahi laughed, joining in the reunion.

“Well I wouldn’t have picked this place…” Sugawara looked around at the overly packed bar. “Why is it so busy, isn’t this place little dated for all these kids?” Sugawara looked around at the adolescents crowding the stage area, grimacing. He wasn’t much older, but he had never much liked his age group. 

“Some pop punk band is playing tonight, I guess they are big with the college students.” Asahi smiled, leaning against the bar to order. 

“So who’s the girl that has you so worked up?” Daichi questioned, shouting over the bar noise.

‘’No girl, just work.” Sugawara scowled at Daichi, a warning for him to stop prying. 

“I know that look Koushi, who’s the girl?” He had been friends with Sugawara for long enough to know the difference in his moods. Work made Sugawara grumpy, and girls made him moody. He knew the difference.

Sugawara sigh. “It doesn't matter, we're technically not allowed to be talking anyways.”

Asahi offered Sugawara a bottle, nudging him as he took it. “You got a crush on one of your coworkers?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Sugawara rolled his eyes, bringing the bottle to his lips.

Daichi laughed as the house lights went down, the crowd cheering.

“Hi, we're Systematic. We have some shirts and stuff for sale at the front if you're into that.”You turned to your drummer as he counted off for the song to start. “This is “Painkiller.”

He couldn’t fucking believe it, that was you, in a band, playing at a bar, right in front of him. 

“Hey, they actually sound pretty good. The singer is kinda cute!” Daichi laughed, pointing towards you.

“I'm being punished right? I did something awful in my past life and that's why all of this is happening.” Sugawara turned towards his friends, clasping his hands together. “Kill me please.”He pleaded to his friends, desperation in his eyes. 

“I can’t hear you!” Asahi furrowed his eyebrows as Koushi’s lips continued to move, raising a hand to his ear.

“You could hit me with your car, or mine, maybe throw me off a cliff.” It was useless, his friends were absorbed in the song. Completely ignoring his impending break down, too fascinated with the bubbly girl bouncing around onstage. 

As the first song came to an end, a stagehand met you with a guitar and a water bottle at the edge of the black curtains. You took the guitar from her, adjusting the strap as you walked back over to the microphone. “Today’s set is short, but we will be at Kyoritsu Kodo next month. Door price is set at 4,000, so show up and support Ryu’s bleach addiction.” You laughed as you threw a guitar pick at the bass player. 

He ducked out of the way, flipping you off. 

You counted off the next song and the band started, the upbeat tempo resonating through the crowd. 

He had to admit, you looked happy. The way you bounced up and down along with the drums made him smile. He would have maybe picked a warmer outfit if he were you, but the new look was refreshing to say the least. 

You had on a black sweater dress, one size too big as it hung off your shoulder. The purple of your thigh high socks peaked out from your equally high black boots. He could faintly make out a small bow on each side of the straps most likely connected to the garters further up your legs. He was trying to leave most of that to the imagination.

“This is all too much…” His face was growing hot as he watched you dance around the stage. Prompting the crowd to move along with you as you sang into the microphone.“At Least she dances like an old lady, that's helping a little.” 

You stretched out your arm, turning the microphone to the crowd. Beaming as they sang the chorus back to you.

He had seen that smile only a handful of times. He saw it when you were walking in the hallways with your friends, laughing as they argued. He saw it while setting yourself up for a serve. And he saw it now as you closed your eyes, basking in the crowd singing along. 

The final cords played as you opened your eyes again. “So that was our rendition of “Sports”, next is a song I wrote on the train last week. It’s the byproduct of a broken heart and shoujo binge reading.” You chuckled awkwardly as your band tuned for the song. “So this is “All I Wanted.” You slid the microphone back into the stand, adjusting it to reach your lips.

Sugawara pushed forward, moving through the crowd in an attempt to see you better.

“Hey Koushi is moving up to the stage, lets go!” Daichi grabbed Asahi’s arm, pulling him along as he fought to keep up with Sugawara.

Sugawara stopped a few feet away from the stage, worried you would see him in the crowd if he got any closer. Sugawara was losing himself as he watched you, your hands gripping the microphone stand for support as you sang. The song was different from the rest, sadder, full of emotions. It was you, more so than the rest. He started to wonder who you had written it for, who had given you so many different feelings. Maybe Yoshiki, you two seemed close enough for that. 

The band cut off, leaving you alone. He saw the tears lining your lashes as you belted into the microphone, eyes closed tight. “All I wanted was you!” The band came back on your last note, the full sound reverberating around the full room. Sugawara bit his lip, fighting back the emotions that flooded his mind. He could see the hurt you held as you opened your eyes, the glistening of forming tears reflecting the stage lights as you looked into the crowd.

The song ended too soon, the house lights rising. You pulled at your sleeve, wiping at your eyes as you waved a goodbye. “Thanks for coming out, I'm Kiko and we are Systematic.” You smiled brightly, trying to take in the faces in the crowd one last time. Your rotation stopped on a familiar pair of hazel eyes, your own growing wide as you looked his way.

“Did she see me? She looked right at me…” Sugawara thought. He stood still, like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming truck. 

Your face dropped as the realization set in, turning abruptly to make your way off the stage.

 “She definitely saw me.” Sugawara groaned.

You were trying to pack up and leave when you heard shouting from the stage. You grabbed a handful of wires, stuffing them into a bag as you rushed to finish. 

“Hey, you can’t go backstage!” A stagehand yelled from behind the curtains.

“Koushi, what the hell are you doing? Get off the stage!” You couldn’t pick out the voice from the dissipating crowd, turning to see what exactly was going on.

You watched Sugawara push through the curtains, frantic eyes scanning for you. Panic setting in when you saw him push past a stage hand, his heated gaze on you.

You tried to crawl through the clothing rack behind you, the exit in sight as you pushed through the other side. A rough hand grabbed the collar of your dress, yanking you back out into the open.“Hi, sensei...what are you doing here?” You awkwardly laughed, looking for someone to save you.

“What am I doing here?” He laughed as he grabbed your forearm, pulling you towards the emergency exit. He pushed open the door, forcing you through before slamming it closed behind him.“Explain.” He glared down at you, blocking your escape.

You felt like you were under a search light, people staring at you as they walked by the fence. 

He waited for your response, looking over your face as you avoided his eye contract. “Can you please just tell me what is going on, and why you're at a dive bar at 11 p.m on a Saturday night.”His tone was softer now as he crossed his arms over his chest, his heated gaze easing into a warm stare. 

You might as well just get it all out. You took a deep breath, finally meeting his eyes.“So freshman year I really liked this band called Bunny, and I would go watch them at the university all the time. But the singer quit last year and they started up Systematic with the remaining members, but they needed a singer and I like singing. But I was only 17 at the time and they were looking for someone older. So I kind of auditioned as Kiko, a 21 year old college student. I don’t drink or do anything illegal...like super illegal. Because you know that me being in the bar is illegal because I'm only 18, but that's probably why you're mad. It’s just bars are the only shows we can get, and we're working hard to get a venue show and we have one next month. Sensei please don’t tell them how old I am. This band means the world to me.” Your shrank into your words, confidence dying.

He looked at you in shock at the paragraph you had just word vomited out. His attention turned away from you as the emergency door flung open. 

“Koushi what the fuck?” Daichi spat, looking between the two of you as Asahi followed behind him, apologizing to security on his way out the exit.

You looked at Sugawara, pleading him not to say anything. 

“This is the girl.” He sighed, it was this or exposing you. At least only one person suffered with this explanation. 

“This is THE girl?” Asahi gave his friend a confused look, pointing back and forth between the both of you.

“Wait, that sad song. Was that about him?” Daichi pointed to Sugawara, holding in a laugh. 

You shrugged slightly, nodding. Things honestly couldn't be going any worse.

“Ok, ok we're done here, shows over!” Sugawara grabbed Daichis arm, tugging him as he walked to the parking lot. He turned around, scowling.

“Th-thank you Suga...Koushi!” You stuttered out, giving him an awkward wave.

He mouthed a silent “We are talking about this tomorrow.” Turning back around to yell at his friends.

You were in some serious trouble, maybe it was time to make that cake.

---- 

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

----

*Hi, I just want make a disclaimer that I do not own any of the song's or art I used for this chapter or any others. Beach Bunny wrote Sports, and Painkiller. Paramore wrote All I Wanted ,and I wrote this mediocre fanfiction. I also want to say thank you for those of you reading this! It means alot that you would take the time to read it as the story unfolds! I hope your enjoying it, and if you have any thoughts, criticisms, or advice I would love to hear it! I am very much an amature at writing, but I want to give you the best chapters I can. So thank you again!*

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Sunshine

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x OC (Evelyn “Evie” Blaker)

Warnings: Smut (male masturbation)

A/N: The block that’s been sitting on me for this story is easing back and I feel pretty good about it!  Think we’re gonna top out around 7 or 8 parts, which is killing me y’all, cause this was suppose to be a smutty one shot.  Lordy gee.

Reminder:  I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]

Part 4 

Small Steps Towards New Beginnings

The mid-afternoon sun brightened Evie’s office, giving her a bit of an energy bump as she sat hunched in her chair, eyes focused on the computer screen in front of her.  She was lost in her work until her phone buzzed.  Again.  For the fifth time in half an hour.  

She sighed but remained focused on the accounting chart in front of her.  If these damn numbers didn’t add up. . .  As she wrote down some questions and numbers, her desk phone rang.  She grabbed it and Sarah, her assistant, was on the other line.

“You have a call on line one.” Sarah’s monotone voice came through the receiver.

“I said to hold calls for the next three hours, Sarah.”  Evie’s voice was calm, but mentally she was pounding her head into a desk.  This was too important to be interrupted by a phone call.  Her request had been a simple one and yet here she was.

“Call on line one.”  Sarah hung up and Evie closed her eyes and sighed deeply.  Five minutes, whoever it was is getting five minutes.  And then they better leave her the hell alone.

“Do you ever answer your phone?”  The rich timber of Maxwell’s voice sent a shiver up her spine, but she didn’t miss what sounded like a petulant tone to his voice.

“Not when I’m in the middle of reviewing accounts.  Are you the one blowing up my phone?”

“I’m hardly blowing up anything.”  Oh, yeah, he was sounding petulant.  Evie’s mouth lifted into a lopsided grin as she reached for her phone and unlocked it.

“That’s funny because it says I have received five rather lengthy messages from one Maxwell Lord in the last thirty minutes.  Are you not Maxwell Lord?  Or has another Maxwell Lord invaded my world without me knowing?”  His grunt on the other end of the line made her smile a little wickedly.  If he wanted to childish, then she’d treat him like one.

“If you’d just answer your messages. . .”  Evie put down her cell and went back to her columns, letting Maxwell’s voice drone in the background.  She was only half listening when he said the word tonight.

“Wait, what?  Tonight what?”

“You’re not even listening to me.” He sounded disappointed.

“Not really.  I told you I’m reviewing accounts.  And now you can’t accuse me of not being honest with you.”

“I said, there is a gala tonight, I want you to come with me.”

“I can’t.”  On his end of the line Maxwell looked shocked, he fully expected her to say yes.

“What do you mean?  Of course, you can.”  The look of incredulousness on Evie’s face would have made anyone watching her bust out in hearty laughter.  Was the man serious?  He was serious.  She bowed her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Max.”  Her voice was soft, and he unconsciously leaned into the phone as if to be caressed by it. “I will be pulling long hours today and for at least the next day or so.  The financial reporting protocols put in after Don came on board are super detailed. It’s a lot of work and I must be the one reviewing it all.

“Plus, I don’t have a gown for a gala, and I don’t have the time to go get one, plus the time to get ready.  It’s already three and the train takes almost two hours to get down to the city, plus the drive to the venue.  It just isn’t feasible.”

“Complete your reports on the train, I’ll have a gown waiting for you when you arrive, and you can get ready in the car.  You’ve done it before.”  He wasn’t begging he told himself, he wasn’t.  She sighed.

“That’s true, but that’s not the point.  I just can’t.”

“Evie.”  His tone had an undercurrent of want that he tried to hide, but she knew.  She wanted him, too, and a small part of her wished she lived closer so she could see him whenever she wanted.  But life wasn’t a romance novel and she was a working girl determined to keep the company she loved alive and thriving.

“I’m sorry Max.  I really am. But I have got to get back to these numbers.  I’ll call you tonight if it’s not too late.”

“I don’t care if its late.  I want to hear your voice.”  She smiled softly.

“If it’s not too late.  Good-bye Max.”  He grunted on the other end and hung up.  It wasn’t as if Maxwell had expected her to come running every time he called, but he supposed he did since he was so used to getting his way.  He wanted to see her whenever he wanted to, and a small part of his brain kept insisting that wasn’t realistic.  The rest of his brain, however, seemed to have taken up residence in his pants, becoming more demanding as each day passed.

---***---

The morning after they slept together, Maxwell woke up feeling better than he had in a long time and was nearly giddy when he rolled over and saw Evie sleeping peacefully next to him.  She was curled under the covers, a hand under her cheek and lips open slightly. He could see her hair spread across the pillow and his fingers itched to touch it.  He was surprised how her lying next to him felt so natural.

Most women he bedded left not long after they were done and the few that made it to morning were quickly ushered out of the house.  He had only dated a handful of times over the last few years and each one fizzled out as soon as he lost interest, or they got tired of being one more thing in his life that he controlled.

Evie shuffled around in her sleep, mumbling a bit, before she felt herself bump up against Maxwell.  She settled in and her breathing continued to be even and deep.  Taking a chance, he slid his arm under her head and pulled her closer. He was rewarded when she laid her hand on his chest.  He brushed the top of her head with his lips in a soft kiss and laid his cheek down.  

Mornings were a practical affair for him – getting up, preparing for the day, grabbing whatever breakfast his cook made for him, and then out the door into the office.  He glanced at the clock and saw that it was after eight and he smiled.  He never stayed in bed after five during the week and yet he felt no hurry to get up and chase the day.  Maybe he should take an early start to the weekend and spend it in bed with Evie.

He found himself wondering, again, what it was about her that had him in such knots.  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t encountered women like her before – happy-go-lucky women with an easy laugh on their lips and a twinkle in their eye.  And yet the very thought of her turned him on and he felt like a horny teenager again – a simple brush of her skin on his, the smell of her hair, or even just listening to her honeyed voice made him hard as hell.

Stop questioning it, idiot, this small voice inside him cried out. You’ve got something good, go with it.

---***---

Evie groaned as she flopped onto her bed.  What should have taken two days took five and the long hours that went with it were killing her.  She lost her whole weekend to the mess that was still their finances and now she felt like she was going to die of exhaustion.  She thought they were done with the nonsense and yet here she was, once again sprinting a marathon.  Adding this on top of everything else for the last year and Evie buried her face into the blanket and screamed until her voice gave out.

Feeling marginally better, she kicked off her shoes and curled up with a pillow.  The Catskills twilight blanketed her room as she drew her phone out of her pocket and pulled up her messages.  Maxwell had texted her earlier, hoping she was getting better sleep now that everything was done and that he missed her.  Her heart constricted in her chest at the message.  This man.

It had been almost a month since their date in the city and while she hadn’t had a chance to see him again nor him her, they had been in near constant communication with texts, calls, and even a few video chats.  He worked long hours and on occasion, so did she, but they made it work for now.  Her body craved his and she found herself waking to dreams of him, left wanting so terribly that she had to touch herself to find relief.  

He hadn’t been necessarily pushy, but sometimes he got unrealistic in his requests or chats.  But, after their conversation about the gala, Maxwell seemed to step back and throughout the week he sent supportive texts during the day, nothing that required an immediate response but gave her the little boosts she needed as things went from tough to worse.  

She also came to work to find fresh flowers on her desk and lunch delivered to her daily from her favorite café near the office.  He didn’t stop there, he also made sure dinner was delivered and she had to admit that if he hadn’t sent anything, she’d probably would have spent the last five days living off ginger ale and antacids as she had in past accounting binges.  She though wryly of the thirty pounds she stress-lost after Grant bounced out of the company, taking his stolen funds with him.

She had heard rumors that Maxwell liked to buy the affections of women he was attracted to, but she was certain what he had done this week was not the same.  It’s not that she thought she was particularly different than other women he dated (were they dating, her brain asked), but something about the behavior seemed genuine and she felt as if she could become lost in him if he kept this all up.  

Her thumb hovered over the call button as she yawned.  She was tired, but she really needed to hear his voice. That deep cadence that always sent shivers to the most intimate parts of her and wove throughout her dreams.  She still hadn’t figured out why she was so attracted to him so viscerally, but she was mollified with the idea that he seemed just as deep.  

She hit the button.  He picked up on the second ring.

“Evie.”  She could see his smile in her head, it matched the one growing on her own face.

“Max.”

“You know, no one ever calls me that.”

“Would you prefer Maxwell?”

“Only when you come for me.”  His voice deepened even more, and she shivered at the thought. 

“You are a bad man.”

“Of course, how do you think I got where I’m at?”

“Your parents.”  She deadpanned her comment and he barked out a harsh laugh.  She wasn’t wrong.  She giggled as his laughs got harder.  They were both a little slap-happy and it was showing in their conversation.

“Touché, Evie.”  The laughter died down and his toned changed.  “How are you holding up?  It’s been a long week for you.”

“It has.”  She sighed as she rubbed her eyes.  She wasn’t sure how much longer she was going to be able to stay awake.  “Thank you for everything.  It made the week go by that much faster.”

“Good.  I’m glad. You sound terrible, almost like you’ve been screaming.”

“I was earlier.”  She paused and dropped her voice, a tone of uncertainty lacing through it.  “Was your invitation to come for a visit real?  I’m due for some time off and I could really use it.”

“Yes.”  She barely got the words out when he answered her.  She breathed a sigh of relief and they continued to talk a little longer about her coming to visit as soon as she could before she became so drowsy that she was forced to hang up.  As she stumbled through her evening routine, she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of excitement about a week in the city with Maxwell all to herself.

As she hit the covers and fell into a dreamless sleep, hours south of her, Maxwell sat in his study, cell phone resting against his chin while lost in thought. He had been staring of into space, thinking about Evie and his blood hummed at the idea that he would soon have a whole week of her to himself.  

Finally, he thought. He set down his phone on the desk preparing to get up, but as he kept thinking about her, his cock began to stir.  He remained sitting in his chair as his thoughts wandered to the first night they slept together, and he could feel himself start to harden at the memory of her sighs and moans as he pleasured her.  

He loosened his tie and took it off, undoing the top buttons of his shirt, hoping for relief from the sudden heat that coursed through him.  A couple of times their conversations over the last few weeks delved into more intimate territory and he recalled one of those chats where he could hear how wet she was over the phone.  It was a beautiful sound and his mouth watered at the memory, his tongue wanting so badly to dip into her core and taste her.

His breath began to quicken as he unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeves and rolled them up.  He just couldn’t seem to cool down any, it was as if he was under the unrelenting blaze of a desert sun.  Then his mind took another turn and he was inundated with the memory of her riding atop him and Maxwell was as hard a rock instantaneously, almost painful in its swiftness.

He never had a lover demand so much of him in bed and he was surprised to find he liked it.  It wasn’t as if he gave up control, it was as Evie said – they were equals.  And something about that ignited a fire in his blood and again he found himself in awe at the woman who was doing what no other lover had done before her.  He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and yanked his undershirt from the waistband of his pants.  He was so damn hot.

He shifted in his chair to relieve the pressure in his pants and accidentally brushed his hand across the bulge there.  He hissed at the pleasure that unfurled in his gut and he shuttered. He tried to gain control again, but the specter of Evie Blaker was wrapping itself around him and her ghostly lips whispered carnal things in his ear.  

He groaned as he could feel her ghostly hands draw their fingers down his neck, to his chest, and across his erection.  His whole body felt like it was on fire, the pleasure so overwhelming he could feel the sweat beading along his hairline.

As if possessed, Maxwell’s hand dropped back to his crotch and he rubbed his hand over himself, groaning loudly. The soft cotton of his boxers touched the most sensitive parts of his cock and he gritted his teeth as he legs began to shake. He unconsciously shifted his hips forward into his palm, chasing the pleasure he wanted.  

He felt hard and hot under his own hand and for a moment he imagined that hand to be Evie’s.  To stop the shakiness of his legs, he planted his feet firmly on the ground, forcing his body to shift forward and slightly recline.  His eyes dropped to his bulge, his precum creating a dark stain.  He knew it was his, but his carnal brain imagined it was Evie who left it on him, soaking him as she came in his hand like she did that first night.

He threw his head back, and a flush of pleasure crept up his chest and into his face, making his eyes sparkle darker in the soft light of his desk lamp. Evie’s voice sounded in his ear again, a soft, whispery moan of his name.  No one ever called him Max, only her and through the haze of his lust, he felt as if her use of the nickname was a brand on him – marking him as hers.

His hair fell into his eyes as his head lolled forward and he brushed it away absentmindedly.  He couldn’t handle the fabric rubbing against him anymore and he unzipped his pants to draw out his cock.  It was hard and covered in precum.  

He ran a finger up the length of his erection, and he hissed at the sensation.  Spitting into his hand, he fully grabbed himself and began to jerk his hand, gripping himself harder at the head as Evie had done when she rode him.  His body shook harder and his left leg bounced without stopping as he got closer to his orgasm.

Maxwell grabbed the arm of his chair with his free hand as he began to work faster.  He was so close and yet he didn’t want it to end so soon, hoping to draw out the fantasy before it was gone.  But the ghostly Evie wrapped its fingers around his heart and his hand, whispering for him to let go.  The orgasm that tore through him ripped a primal yell from his throat that almost hurt, and he could feel his toes curl.  He dropped back in his chair, covered in his own cum and his cock pulsing with the aftershocks of his climax.  His chest heaved at the exertion and he was certain he looked a mess.  But, after a beat he began to laugh.  This woman of his.

[coffeefairy]

Writer’s Month August 2020 - Day 9

Day eight of the challenge, still late, because I am a still a helpless procrastinator

Day 9, Prompt: Illness

Fandom: Star Trek: Voyager

Ship: Tom/Harry

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Tom visits Harry in Sick Bay when he has a cold. Harry has some pretty interesting things to say under the influence of a high fever and Tom decides visiting hours should be extended.

Excerpt:

Even after seeing Harry every day for the last three years, it still chased a thrill through him when he entered his field of vision. It always had, from the first time he’d seen him, at a bar on Deep Space 9. He’d looked younger then, shiny and untouched like his brand new comm badge. Dark hair, dark eyes, wide shoulders and handsome features had ensured he’d had Tom’s attention from the moment he entered the bar. It had felt like everything inside him had stood to attention, listening and waiting with bated breath. A creature in his chest had tilted his head, scented the air in trepidation. Something was changing.

Tags: love confessions, terrible title, because I am on a roll with those

Cold Calling

Tom Paris strolled into the MedBay, a box under his arm and a PADD in his hand. 

“Mr Paris? You’re not on shift again until tomorrow,” the EMH stated, looking up from his conn. “I will assume, based on previous experience, you are not here to volunteer extra hours.”

“‘Fraid not, Doc. I’m just here to cheer Harry up.”

“Mr Paris, visiting hours are over, as you are well aware. Please return between the hours of-”

“I misspoke. I’m here to volunteer. I am volunteering to keep Ensign Kim company.”

The Doctor looked as if he might argue but just sighed instead. “Very well. I am retiring for the night. Turn down the lights when you leave. Computer, deactivate the EMH.”

He blinked out of view. Tom grinned, the Doctor as always amusing him at the times he wasn’t driving him up the wall. With a shake of his head, he steered for the bio beds to the right. Harry was out of the examination one, recuperating alone. Luckily Tom’s “volunteering” would only include passing the time with his friend, no other patients occupying the other beds.

Harry looked uneasy, even in sleep, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. He was pale and a small frown came and went like clouds over his brow. Tom wished this would take away from his normal reaction but it was just as always upon seeing Harry. Faster heartbeat, a quick drop of his stomach, like he’d just hit 0G, a tickle in his throat like a laugh that had gotten caught. You’d think he’d be used to it by now, but no. Even after seeing Harry every day for the last three years, it still chased a thrill through him when he entered his field of vision. 

It always had, from the first time he’d seen him, at a bar on Deep Space 9. He’d looked younger then, shiny and untouched like his brand new comm badge. Dark hair, dark eyes, wide shoulders and handsome features had ensured he’d had Tom’s attention from the moment he entered the bar. It had felt like everything inside him had stood to attention, listening and waiting with bated breath. A creature in his chest had tilted his head, scented the air in trepidation. Something was changing. 

He hadn’t known it then but it hadn’t just been something, it had been everything. Harry had changed everything Tom had thought to be true. About Starfleet, about its officers, about life, about people in general. He didn’t relish thinking about where he’d be right now if it hadn’t been for Voyager but more importantly, who he’d be now if it weren’t for Harry. 

Tearing his eyes from the familiar face, he plopped down on a chair next to the bio bed. Kicking his feet up, he settled with his PADD. Every once in a while he’d look up, let his gaze travel over Harry’s face, listen for his breath. Once or twice he got up to raise the bed slightly, to adjust the blanket, to give him a hypo for breathing easier. 

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he arrived when Harry stirred but the lights in the Sick Bay had dimmed themselves according to the ship’s internal time. 

On the bed, the Ensign moved, sighed. Blinking, he looked around groggily. Dark gaze landing on Tom, he got to his feet.

“Tom?” he croaked.

“Hey, Har. How’re you feeling?”

“Like I was put through the recycler. What time is it?” His voice sounded like it had been sanded down to its bare components.

“After midnight. Want some water?”

Harry nodded and Tom got a glass from the pitcher. Sliding his hand under Harry’s neck to help him he tilted the glass. Harry managed a few small sips. 

“What...what are you doing here so late? You’re on shift tomorrow.”

“Thought I’d check in. I brought you something but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Tom, you shouldn’t-” Whatever the admonishment was going to be was cut off as Harry started coughing.

“I’m old enough to decide my own bed time, thanks.” He reached behind him for the box he’d brought. “Here you are.”

Harry blinked the tears from coughing out of his eyes and eyed the box. “Nothing’s going to jump out of there, right? Or make a noise or something?”

“It’s not a joke box, I promise. Geez, you scare a guy once.”

“Twice.” But Harry pulled the box close, opening it gently. Inside were a cylindrical container, and a bag of something.

“Hot honey water with ginger and a side of cough drops. Grandmother Paris’ cold treatment.”

“Grandmother Paris, huh?” Harry looked up with a smile. It made Tom’s heart trip and miss a beat. 

“Can’t argue with it.”

Obligingly, Harry twisted the top of the bottle and drank. “It tastes nice. For medicine.”

“It’s no hypospray but sometimes old tricks are the best.”

“Thanks. You know you really don’t have to stay, Tom. I’m probably just going to go back to sleep in a minute.”

“I’ll just stick around and make sure the medicine is working. Besides, I brought a book on my PADD I think you’ll really enjoy.”

“I shudder to think what you’ve brought, Paris.”

Tom grinned and sank back down on the chair. “Oh, it’s a classic. “Desert Passion” by Lavinia DeLautre.”

“Tom…” 

“No, no, don’t thank me yet. Now, be quiet. Chapter one. The day was hot. The sweltering heat made Amelia’s light, gauzy dress stick to her, almost transparent in places. She could tell from the darkened gazes directed at her the men of the village were transfixed by her unveiled beauty. She straightened her proud posture and ignored them, her heart beating hard in her well-endowed chest. Not bad, huh? Those twentieth century authors knew what they were on about.”

“I will pay you to stop reading it right now.”

“It’s an antique! A literary classic, published in 1993, Harry. 1993.”

“A week’s rations if you shut up.”

“No way. I flicked through it earlier and there are quivering loins and grabbing of sweat-dewed flesh coming up. Can’t live with the suspense.”

“Two weeks.”

“Amelia knew her father had come this way two weeks ago but her search so far had come up with nothing. She was a stranger in a strange land and…”

Tom read, enjoying the poor writing, the ludicrous metaphors and the far-fetched plot. He enjoyed Harry’s exclamations of disgust and chuckles more. After chapter four, Harry fell asleep again and settling into the chair, Tom put the PADD down. Trying to settle as well as he could, he felt the sleep edge in.

He had no idea what the time was when a noise woke him. 

“Tom!”

Sitting straight up, he turned to Harry who was tangled in the blanket, his hair plastered to his forehead. 

“I’m here, Harry, what is it? Do you want some water?”

“Tom…”

Getting to his feet to lean over the younger man in the half-light, he saw Harry’s eyes were hazy.

“What do you need?”

A giggle escaped Harry and Tom frowned. He’d never heard Harry giggle.

“You.”

“I’m right here, Har.”

“No, closer. I always want you closer,” he sighed.

Heat chased down Tom’s spine and his throat grew as dry as the sand in Amelia’s non-geographically-existent desert.

“Ah…”

“But I like this. This is good.” Harry’s hands travelled from Tom’s hands where they rested on the bed, up his arms, his shoulders to cradle his face.

“Harry?”

Harry didn’t seem entirely aware Tom was speaking. He was mumbling, voice a murmur. “So pretty.” His voice cleared a bit. “You’re always so pretty. I could stare at you all day and not get tired of it.”

His fingers wound in Tom’s hair and his brain cells all mutineed at once.

“I…”

“When I don’t see you, I miss your face. I miss the rest of you too.”

“Harry, what...what is this? Are you making fun of me?”

“You’re funny.” He laughed. “Always so funny. You make me laugh even when I don’t think I want to. I love that.”

He sighed lightly. “I love you.”

Tom froze in place, everything inside him lighting up and burning. The words he’d longed so long to hear were falling out of Harry like water, a current sweeping him along, pulling him under. 

Below him, Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, the hold on his hair tightening as Harry leaned up, lips searching. Helpless to move even if he’d wanted to, he could only watch it happen as if in a dream. When Harry’s lips met his, the emotions crashing through him was the current cresting. Like a towering wave it razed everything from around it, suspending it weightlessly, before racing down, the weight of the moment splintering under its own momentum. It roared in his ears, swept his feet out from under him, pulled the breath from his lungs. 

Then reality picked up again, the light graze of lips against his returning him to the present. He pulled back, disappointment freezing the heat that had been there and instant ago. 

“Harry, you’re burning up.”

Moving around the bed he found the chart, checked the last time the Doctor had administered anything. Long enough ago he could have another dose. 

Harry fell back on the bed, grumbling under his breath. 

Tom loaded the spray with shaking hands. Taking a steadying breath, he administered it. Putting a hand to Harry’s forehead, he felt some of the heat slowly fade. The fever was breaking.

Sitting down again, he sighed, rubbed his face. 

“I’m sorry.” Harry spoke from the bed. 

“It’s okay, Harry. You didn’t know what you were saying.”

It was quiet for a moment. “I did. I mean, I didn’t mean to say it, but I knew what I was saying.”

Shock left him silent as he turned his wide eyes on Harry. He was sitting in the bed, pulling at the blanket, staring down at his lap. “I didn’t want you to find out, and especially not this way. I’m sorry.”

“You...you meant it?”

“It doesn’t have to make anything weird! We can just...pretend it didn’t happen.”

The laughter was sudden and surprising as he got to his feet. “Oh, I don’t think so. Harry, I love you too.” “I...You...You do?”

“More than Amelia loves the Sheik,” Tom smiled. 

Harry laughed, and quickly it turned into a cough.

Leaning down, Harry turned away. “Don’t, you’ll get sick.”

Tom turned his face by his jaw. “You know, I really, really don’t care right now. I’d take worse than a cold to kiss you, Harry Kim.”

o.O.o

The EMH returned to duty at eight am sharp. The first thing he saw was that Mr Paris and Mr Kim were in the same bio bed, squeezed in like sardines in a box. The next was that the display over their heads - smart enough to recognise two bodies - showed both occupants were running light fevers.

“Really. There is a reason we have visiting hours.”

[thecleverdame]

East Of Nowhere - Life, After

Sam x Reader

Series Masterlist

Summary:  You and Sam are strangers trapped in a desolate mountain town where you live alone, isolated from the outside world, for five years.

Warnings: language, violence, smut, talk of past trauma

Beta:  ilikaicalie  

-

Life After

“Come again?” Dean raises an eyebrow. Sam just looks across the table, chugging a bottle of water. He woke up fifteen minutes ago sprawled out in the hallway. He came to just as Dean smacked him hard across the face.

“I know how it sounds, but it’s the truth.” Sam wants to take a moment, just a beat and try to wrap his head around the fact that he’s home, but he doesn’t have the luxury. You’re not there.

“You’re sure it wasn’t a dream, or maybe a Djinn?” Dean places his hands on the table, leaning toward his brother.

“No,” Sam runs both hands through his hair, blinking while trying to shake off layers of fatigue and exhaustion. Whatever pulled him back into the real world zapped every ounce of energy in the process. “This wasn’t like anything we’ve ever seen before. Are you sure it’s only been five months?”

“I’ve been going crazy looking for you. I think I’d know if you were gone for five years.” Dean sets a hand on his hip, the other gesturing toward Sam. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Yeah, I feel ok. Just tired and thirsty.” Sam twists his torso, his back in knots and his shoulders sore. He feels like he got hit by a semi-truck.

“You were there with some chick?” He raises an eyebrow.

Sam sets down the empty bottle on the table and put his lips together before responding. “We’ve got to talk about some things…”

Before Sam has a chance to finish, or for Dean to respond, Dean’s cell phone rings loud in his pocket and Sam’s face goes white.

-

You roll your eyes behind dry eyelids, unable to determine where you are or what’s happening. All the sounds around you blur into one dull droning of blips, buzzes and muffled voices. The first noise your ears hone in on is that of the heart monitor. You know the sound well and, for a moment, you have a flash of waking up in the Shadow Hill Community Hospital.  

Whole thoughts aren’t forming yet; instead it’s just base knowledge as you fight through the fog in your head.

Beep

Beep

Beep

The monitor speeds up as you struggle to open your eyes. There’s a muted chorus of voices as you sort through the commotion. You can’t put the logic of it together but you’re listening for Sam’s voice somewhere in the mix.

It’s the familiar sound of your mother that straightens out first, sharpening from mumbled sounds into crystal clear words.

“I think she’s waking up,” she sounds excited, her voice catching. “Go get the nurse.”

“Just push the button,” Your father joins in. You almost melt as his presence is confirmed.

“Can you hear me Y/N?” Your mom asks. Her question is mixed with the sensation of her hand on your arm. You know her touch. Swallowing, you muster strength, blinking both eyes open. The light burns and you groan, fluttering until you see your mom, sitting in a chair at the right side of your bed.

“Thank God,” your father exclaims taking your other hand. You turn to look at him, weakly squeezing his fingers.

“Hi,” you rasp, then cough as the words set your throat on fire.

“Don’t talk sweetheart,” your mother cries. “We’ll get you some ice chips. For fuck’s sake Clint, go get the doctor!” Even in your altered state, it’s shocking to hear her drop the F-bomb.

A lot happens all at the same time. All the events of the previous five years come back to you in a flood of memories that make your brain feel like it’s exploding inside your head. You shriek, doubling over in pain. The delivery of this remembrance is accompanied by clear thought. The onslaught of the relocation shakes you free from the trauma and the drugs. You shoot from groggy and confused to painfully alert in the snap of a finger.

Your father holds your mother while she cries as you’re surrounded by doctors and nurses. All it takes is a push of a needle into your IV and the sedation lulls you back into a dark sleep.

Twelve Hours Later

When you awake a second time, the transition is smoother than the first. Your mother hovers on the constant verge of tears as your father tries to make awkward small talk. A police detective arrives at the same time as your dinner. Nibbling on the corner of a slice of white bread, you answer a series of uncomfortable questions as your family looks on in quiet judgment.

“So you’re sure that no one held you against your will?” The officer cocks his head as his eyes drift to your parents. “Maybe we should talk alone.”

“It’s ok,” you assure him. “I was just feeling overwhelmed by - life you know? I wanted to get away and clear my head and I guess I kinda panicked. I should have called or told someone I was alright but I...I’m really sorry.”

You don’t even want to look at your parents, if they even buy your story. Which is doubtful. They’re going to be so disappointed that it might break your heart. But the truth isn’t an option. Not unless you want to be committed.

“I keep asking about this because, not only does everyone you know say this disappearing act was completely out of character, but you’re pregnant and the doctors say you’re severely malnourished. That sends up some red flags, you know? Like maybe you were in a situation where you didn’t have access to food.”

“It’s been a hard pregnancy, I’ve been sick a lot.” You run a hand over your stomach.

“You can tell the truth honey,” your mother leans forward from her perch on the windowsill. Her eyes are brimming with tears. She wants so badly for there to be a reason that you so abruptly abandoned the people who love you and you want nothing more than to give her a better answer, but there isn’t one. “You have a man’s name tattooed on your ankle, it’s practically a brand! Someone must have made you-”

“Mom,” you stop her, struggling to sit up straight. “I met a guy, I got drunk...he’s got one too. No one kidnapped me or made me do anything. I just needed to get away for awhile.”

--

“There’s someone here who’s very excited to see you.” You mother forces an upbeat, sing-song tone.

When Jack walks through the door, he’s a wearing a shirt similar to one of Sam’s favorites. For a split second you think that Jack is Sam, your heart swelling and sinking in the same moment. Part of you almost forgot about him. The sight of his familiar face feels like a dizzy memory from a dream.

“I can’t believe it,” he smiles sinking down on his haunches at the side of the bed. “I knew you were out there somewhere.”

“I, um, I’m sorry.” Apologizing has become your new default. Over the last twenty-four hours you’ve found yourself often without a response and ‘I’m sorry’ seems to be your only answer.  

“Oh, don’t be sorry,” His hand is sweeping gently down the side of your face. You close your eyes and shift away from his touch. It doesn’t seem to phase him. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters. We can all move on from here. Together.”

During the time in Shadow Hill with Sam, you thought of Jack and figured he would mourn your loss and quietly go on with his life. This is clearly not the case.

“You waited five years for me?” You whisper is disbelief.

“Five months honey,” your mother pats the back of your hand.

Right. You slipped again. You and Sam talked about this. About all the scenarios of being thrown back into your old life. Sam was one who insisted you go through every possible set of events, including the fact that time might pass differently in Shadow Hill. Five years there could be five days or five decades here.

“Right,” you offer a lopsided smile, things making more sense now. “I meant five months.”

“Of course I waited,” Jack takes your hand into his, you resist the urge to immediately pull away. “I can’t tell you how relieved we all are, and I couldn’t be happier. I’m so thankful you’re both alright.” He reaches out of places a hand over your round belly. You hold your breath.  

He thinks the baby is his, they all do. You look at your parents who yet again are fighting to hold back emotion. You’re almost seven months pregnant, according to this timeline you would have been two months along when you disappeared.

“Please,” you lift his hand away from your stomach, stumbling over your words. “Just don’t...don’t do that.”

“There’s nothing be afraid of,” Jack tries to sooth you. “I’m ready for this. We talked about having a family one day.”

“It’s not your baby.” You clarify, maybe a little too blunt but there’s no taking it back now.

“What are you talking about?” He tips his head, his smile waning.

“Yes,” You mother stands up, her eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what?” You’ve had enough. You’ve danced the dance for a day now, but you’re tired and exhausted. You’ve pushed Sam out of your mind because you’ve been under a microscope since you woke up, but in this moment you’re done. “I need everyone to get out of my room.”

“Just calm down sweetheart.”

“I don’t want to calm down.” You pick up the remote and hit the ‘call nurse’ button frantically. “I want to be alone.”

As soon as the door to the room clicks shut, you pick up the phone beside the bed and dial the number you’ve memorized like the back of your hand. It’s truth time.

“Hello?” A gruff voice answers. He sounds cranky, thank God. Dean, it has to be him.

“Dean?” You ask.

“Yeah, who’s this?” He snaps back. You hear Sam in the background. Your heart speeds up to a gallop, an idiotic smile spreading across your face. “Give me the damn phone!” You hear him shout.

“Sam?” you confirm, tears spilling in relief.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice is shaky. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Are you alright?” Biting your lip, you contain the urge to squeal. You’re both alive and you both remember. “I’m in the hospital.”

He ignores your question. “Why are you in the hospital? Is the baby-”

“We’re both alright. I just turned up unconscious on my parent's lawn in the middle of the night. The neighbor’s kid said he saw me fall from the sky. I don’t think anybody believes him, but I do. I’m banged up.”

“Dean found me in the hallway. I didn’t wake up until an hour ago. I’m gonna come get you, just stay where you are.” There’s rustling on the other end of the line.

“This is good right? We both remember?”

“It could be a lot worse.”

---

Sam makes the twelve hour drive in a little under ten. Dean protested, pointing out that he needed sleep and maybe a doctor but in the end he took the keys and didn’t look back.

He slips into your room just after the sun comes up. It’s still early enough that your constant stream of visitors hasn’t yet arrived. You’re sleeping soundly, mouth hanging open with a bag of saline dripping into your arm. Your face looks thin, more gaunt than he remembers. He’s grown used to seeing you nearly every moment of every day but being apart, even for forty-eight hours, gives him a new perspective. Your face should be rounder, filling out as your stomach grows. But between the lack of food and plethora of stressors during your last months in Shadow Hill, you went in the other direction. He didn’t realize exactly how much until now.

Your eyelids flutter open the moment he takes your hand, a lazy, happy smile budding at the sight of him. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He squeezes your fingers, before bringing your hand to his mouth.

“I missed you,” you confide. His heart still skips when you say things like that.

“Missed you too, baby.” He kisses your knuckles, wrapping both his big hands around your small fist. “Do you feel good enough to get out here? If you need to stay, that’s fine. But people aren’t gonna stop asking questions, at least for a while. It’s probably better if you get your bearings before you start giving answers.”

“I’m good. I’ve probably already said more than I should have, but I stuck to the stuff we talked about.” You explain.

Sam stands, then leans down to kiss you. Your lips are dry as the desert but he doesn’t care. He rubs his nose into your cheek, nuzzling with a gentle press of his mouth on yours.

“What the hell is going on here?” Your father’s voice snaps you both to attention and Sam stands up straight.

“Dad,” you try to intercede, propping yourself up into a sitting position.

“It’s ok,” Sam takes a step away from you.

“I don’t know who the hell you are and frankly I don’t care, you better get away from my daughter.” Clint has always been an imposing figure but he’s larger than life when it comes to his kids. Your father radiates a ferocious protectiveness.

Sam looks to you and moves away from the bed. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“You better pray you’re not the reason my little girl has been missing,” his voice hitches up an octave. You’ve only seen him cry once before.  “Or be the father of that baby because I swear to God I will kill anyone who puts their hands on my daughter-”

“Daddy it’s okay, I’m alright.” You reach out for him. “Sam, I think we need a few minutes.”

Sam doesn’t hesitate, just sets his jaw and nods before leaving the room. Your father is pissed as hell at you and he’s held it back until now.

“You’re a smart girl. How is it you expect me to believe that you would just fall off the face of the earth and turn up five months later, pregnant and with a ring on your finger. Are you married to that man? Someone we’ve never met? I know you Y/N, you wouldn’t do that. Not to your mother and I.”

“Maybe old me wouldn't have, but things happened Dad.” If you had half a shot at getting through to anyone, it was him.

“Then tell me what happened.” He takes your hand just as Sam had, only he clutches it so tight it hurts.

“I can’t. Not yet anyway. You wouldn’t believe me if I did, anyhow. I know this is hard, but you have to find a way to trust me. Maybe you can’t right now, and that’s alright. But I just need a little faith. You know that I’m not influenced by anyone. What happened was unexpected, but if I had to do it all over again, I would. Sam is a good man and we love each other. I fell in love, the kind of love that you and Mom have. I can’t explain it all to you now, but what happened to me wasn’t bad.”

He’s still, looking at his feet. “You’re going with him?”

“You were listening.” You sigh, tipping your head back. “I have to go, for a while at least. Someday, I hope to tell you everything.”

“And he’ll take care of you?” A tear drops from the corner of his eyes and he wipes it away with a cough.

“Oh Dad, he already has.”

“This feels kinda like you’re saying goodbye, kiddo,” he pats your knee, looking away.

With a quivering chin, you watch his eyes close, “Probably because I am.”

The Bunker

The Bunker is depressing.

As the heavy metal door slams shut behind you, there’s a creeping sense of dread that simmers in your gut. It’s silent, deathly silent, no faint chirping of birds in the distance or sunlight streaming through a open curtain. No, Sam and his brother live in a subterranean tomb that’s a far cry from the happy home you once shared together.

“Come on.” Sam takes your hand, winding down a metal staircase as you descend into the belly of the beast. He’s described this place to you in painstaking detail, enough that you thought you’d be prepared for the reality of being here but you were wrong. It’s dark, ominous and frightening.

There’s soft music playing, getting stronger as Sam leads you down a winding hallway. Strains of Simon and Garfunkel greet you as Sam pushes a door open to a small bedroom where you find a man perched on the bed. He’s cleaning a gun, it’s metal parts disassembled and neatly laid out over his bedspread.

This must be Dean.

He looks up, pausing before wiping oily hands on a rag. He doesn’t speak, just looks from Sam to you, then to your stomach as his lip twitches. “Hey.”

Sam’s hand is at the small of your back, pushing you to take a few steps into the room. This feels wrong. You’re out of place, especially in his brother’s private space. You don’t belong here and you’ve got a sneaking suspicion all three of you know it.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice is strained. “Dean, this is Y/N. Baby, this is Dean.”

Dean has a physical reaction when Sam calls you baby. He flinches as his eyes close momentarily, mouth pinching tight. You force yourself to move forward and extend a hand to him.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve been hearing about you for years, so it’s weird to finally, you know…” When Dean doesn’t move, your left standing awkwardly with your hand hanging limply in front of you. He looks from you to Sam again and shakes his head.

“Dean...” Sam fires a warning shot.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking weird.” Dean flashes a dry smile, and twists the rag in his hands. “I’m kinda in the middle of something here. Maybe we could do this later, Sam?”

“Alright.” Sam’s word choice is innocuous, but he might as well have responded with fuck you.

Sam ushers you down the hallway and swings open the door to the room you’re meant to share. Everything is cold brick and hard floors, including the metal frame of his tiny bed. He’s nervous, fidgeting as he shows you the few personal items he owns. His life is sort of...sad.

For the first time in a long time, neither of you know what to say. This is a Sam you’ve only heard about in stories. This is Sam the hunter, whose life is hard and rough and scary. A life that you don’t fit into.

-

They’re speaking in hushed tones, but it sounds exactly like the muted arguments your parents had at night when you were younger. Adults trying desperately to avoid innocent ears.

“I need you to do better than whatever that was.” Sam hisses.

“I’ll roll out the welcome wagon when we know for sure what she is, Sam. Until then, I’m playing this close to the chest.” Dean snorts and his fist hits something solid.

“What are you talking about? We’ve been over this-”

“No, you went over it and I told you I’m not buying it.”

“She’s not a monster, Dean, she’s just a woman.”

“Honestly,” Dean’s dry laugh gives way to naked hostility, “For her own sake, I hope you’re wrong. We can’t even keep other hunters alive and your plan is to bring a pregnant high school science teacher into the mix?”

“Dean-”

“No, I get it. You dropped off the grid and fell in love and now you’re having a frickin’ kid. Which, by the way, don’t even get me started on that. You couldn’t wrap it up? What were you thinking? And while we’re on the topic, do you even know for sure that baby is yours? What if she’s been playing you this whole time?”

“I can’t deal with this right now.” Sam’s voice interjects at full volume. “I get that you need some time to wrap your head around this, but I can’t wait around for that. I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do.”

“Fine,” Dean agrees. “You let me know what you and your teacher come up with.”

-

Sam feels larger than life when he wraps around you in his narrow, rickety bed. You pretend to sleep, too tired to talk and maybe a little afraid of what might be said.

‘You awake?” He whispers, resting a hand on your hip. When he doesn’t get a response he sighs, pulling you back into him the way he has a thousand times before. That familiar smell and warm body lull you slowly to sleep in this strange new world.

Two Days Later

“You doin’ ok?” Dean sits across from you, with a beer and a whiskey, alternating between the two. You can tell just by the look on his face that he’s skeptical of the whole situation. Sam keeps telling you Dean gets it, that he’s on board, but it’s clear he’s just trying to placate you.

“I’m just exhausted, but other than that I’m good.” You sip the warm can of coke as the two of you try not to look at each other.

“Sam has a lot to say about you.” Dean forces the conversation.

“I bet it’s nothing compared to how much I’ve heard about you. I feel like I know you.”

“Five years is a long time to be alone together.” Dean nods soberly. “The whole thing is almost unbelievable.”

“Look, I get that you don’t really trust me.”

“I’m not trying to be a dick.” He holds his hands up. “I’m still on the fence. Sam’s gone for five months and when he comes back he’s got a ring on his finger and you’re...friggin’ pregnant. You’ll have to forgive me if I need a little time. Sam’s been through a lot. I’ve seen him get screwed over more times than I can count and until I’m a hundred percent about who, or what, you are, I gotta keep asking questions.”

“Okay.” You concede.

“Okay?” he raises an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“It’s pretty much what Sam said would happen.” You shrug. “‘My brother won’t trust you, it’s gonna take him a while, just gotta be patient and get to know each other.’”

“I got a lot of questions for you.”

“Go ahead.”

One Week

“Hello.” The soft voice is not one you’re familiar with. You turn around to find a man standing in the doorway. He offers a warm smile and takes a step into the room.

“Hello,” you return. There’s something about him you can’t quite put your finger on, but his presence calms you, along with the thousands of thoughts rattling around in your skull since you woke up in the hospital. Your mind narrows down to this moment, able to focus on nothing other than the unassuming person in front of you. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are. Sam didn’t say anyone was coming by.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, dismissing you with a wave of his hand. He leans toward you as if he’s letting you in on a secret. “He doesn’t know I’m here.”

“What do you mean?” You should be worried, his confession should send up a red flag, but it doesn’t. Questioning your own actions you invite him in. “Do you want to sit?”

“No, I’m good. But you might want to.” There’s a glint in his eye, followed by a sigh and the exhale of someone who’s exhaustion rivals your own.

“Okay.” Despite having no intention of sitting, you find yourself seated on the bed.

“What are you doing here?” Sam interrupts your private conversation, Dean trailing behind him. They both looked pissed.

“Okay, I get it. You’re upset and you’ve got a right to be.” He responds shrugging casually.

“Does anybody wanna fill me in?” You inquire.

Sam glares, shaking his head in disgust. “This is Chuck.”

Chuck. You thought Sam was kidding or the tales he told were a metaphor...but Chuck’s really just a guy that looks vaguely like your middle school youth group leader.

“You’re God.” Despite your past misgivings, there’s no doubt in your mind that he is exactly who Sam told you about. You can feel it in your bones. “Oh my God, I mean...I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No worries.” His upbeat tone is not what you pictured from the supreme almighty.

“It’s nice of you to show up,” Dean’s disgusted. “I’ve been praying for months now and you’re nowhere to be found but suddenly you decide to grace us with your presence. Thanks.”

“You know I don’t like to interfere.”

“Why are you here?” Sam comes to stand beside you, putting himself between you and, well... God.

“I’m glad you asked,” Chuck clasps his hands together, seemingly excited. “I just had to see her in person. I mean, Sam. She really is a work of art. Beautiful, smart and loves you like the dickens.”

“What do you mean?” Sam reaches back, taking your hand.

“She’s incredibly complex. Near perfection.” He tips his head to the side, eyeing you up and down but you feel him inside you. He’s in your head and your heart, rooting around. “I really have to hand it to her. She’s right up there with Rembrandt and Chopin. Intricate, detailed, and just damaged enough to make it work. I don’t know that I could have done better myself. ”

“What. Are. You. Talking. About.” Sam grits, pulling you to your feet and tucking an arm around your waist.

“I thought you would have at least had some idea.” Chuck looks expectantly from Sam to you and back again. “My sister cooked her up. Her first real creation and she outdid herself.”

“Creation?” you whisper, feeling lightheaded.

“What the fuck are you-”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t have an inkling...” Chuck interrupts Sam. “I mean, she plucked her right out of that fantasy you used to have. You know, the dream, you remember the one you used, enjoyed...Oh no, you thought...you thought it was a premonition? ”

“Stop speaking in riddles and just tell us what’s the hell is going on.”

“Look, you know what my sister is like.”

“This was Amara?”

“She wanted to give you something.” He shrugs. “She gave Dean what he wanted most, your mother, and then she wanted to give you something too. She said she thought about Jessica, but you’re too different now. Too grown up for that to work organically, so she decided to create something, or should I say someone, just for you. ”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Dean snorts, apparently the only able to articulate any emotion.

“I am not shitting.” Chuck presents a grim smile and shrugs. “Let’s look on the bright side. She really nailed it.”

“I don’t understand.” You’re wilting into Sam but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s stoic, save for a flare of his nostrils. It’s a look you’re familiar with. He’s furious. “That doesn’t make sense. Before we woke up in that place I had a life, I had a family.”

“Well, technically you didn’t.” Chuck rolls his hand in the air letting you know he’s not finished. “It’s the beauty of what she managed to accomplish. It wasn’t just you she had to pull out of thin air, it was everything. Your family, your friends. Heck, those memories you have of your dad. I’m impressed.”

There are no words to describe how you’re feeling, but disbelief comes the closest. It’s not that you don’t trust what he’s telling you, just like everything else you know it’s true. But you can’t comprehend it.

“Why Shadow Hill? She just wanted to watch us swim around the fishbowl?” Sam spits, his arm leaving your waist as he takes a step toward God himself.

“Sam, you know as well as I do your life is pretty pathetic. She didn’t think having you meet at a singles’ bar would do the trick. She said she wanted you to have time to be with each other without all...this. She was gonna give you ten years and then zap you right back here.”

“Perfect,” Sam grunts, there’s venom in his voice.

“You said ten years,” you take a deep breath. “We were only there five and the world fell apart. There was literally fire raining down from the sky.”

“That spell the two of you cast cracked the ecosystem.”

“A crack that couldn’t be fixed so we ended up with front row seats for the end of the world?” Sam interjects. “There wasn’t even food at the end. Y/N was pregnant and terrified and I couldn’t even fucking feed her. Where was your sister? Did she get bored?”

“She used to check in on you from time to time to ensure everything was going to plan, but you caught her once. She said you saw her and she had to erase the memory. After that she was gun shy. She took a page out of my book and stayed away. Let things play out.”

He snaps his fingers and Sam can remember the night in the rain. He can see Amara slipping out the front door of the house and into the torrential rain.

“Where the fuck is she?” Sam presses. “Why isn’t she here telling us all this?”

“Because she had a very specific plan. You get ten years of domestic bliss and then you’re back here like nothing happened. You’d have been missing less than a year and life would move on.”

“Like I never existed?” you clarify.

“Exactly. If she turns up now I’m afraid she might reset things. You know I prefer to give you the choice, Sam. I’m all about free will. If you decide you want the slate wiped, I can take care of it.”

“No.” Sam squares off his shoulders and side steps between you and Chuck.

“I realize it’s a hard decision and I’m sorry.” He peaks around Sam to let you know the apology is meant for you. “You should take some time and talk it over.”

“We don’t need time.” Sam shoots back.

“It’s not just your choice Sam, there’s two other people involved. Talk about it, decide what’s best for her and your son. You can let me know.”

And with that, he’s gone.

---

“How do you feel? You know, about what he said.” Sam asks. He’s kept his distance since the revelation, but it’s been a few hours and you’re about as settled with the idea as you’re going to get.

“You mean the fact that I only exist to fill your wants and needs?” You scrunch your nose. “My inner feminist is pretty pissed.”

“You’re deflecting.” He sits on the edge of the bed, giving your thigh a squeeze.

“Because I don’t even know where to start.”

“You’re real, just as I am.” He face is strained, he’s trying but he’s off the mark.

“That’s not even the part that I’m worried about Sam! It’s the rest of it. It’s where we go from here. Are we going to have a baby and live in a bunker with your brother? If by some miracle we aren't murdered in our sleep by a monster or demon or whatever, we’re doomed to fail anyway. You’re the one who told me that the people in your life die. That you and I would never have worked in this world.”

“Things are different now.” He swallows, running a palm over the stubble of his jaw. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“You’ll die trying, Sam.” You want to shake him. “You’ll take a bullet to protect us or have a heart attack at forty from the stress of it all.”

“We can make it work,” Sam blinks, looking at the dead expression on your face. When what you’re insinuating hits him, his anger becomes palpable. “You’ve already given up.”

“I don’t want to. I love you so much and this baby, I...it’s all I want. But it’s not about what I want anymore. How can we bring a child into this? I know you Sam. You’re the guy who leaves because he thinks it’ll be better that way.”

“I won’t.” He’s hurt, and frankly, now pissed at you. “You think after everything we’ve been through, the only options we have are that I abandon you or Chuck snaps his finger and you never happened? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m trying to be practical.” You sputter.

“Well fuck that.” He growls. Sam stands up and looks away from you. He’s so mad that he can’t make eye contact. He rubs a hand over his face, trying to restrain himself. “I’m not leaving and you’re not going anywhere, but I’m out. No more hunting. We’ll just stay here long enough to get something else set up, somewhere safe we can start over. New names, new lives.”

“You really think you can do that? What about your brother? You just got him back.”

“Dean will make it work. We always do. I made a commitment to you in that field, do you remember that? You’re acting like it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means everything to me Sam. I just...I hate this all so much. I just wanna go back. While we were there, all I could think about was getting out of Shadow Hill. It felt like a prison. And now… now I just want to go back where it’s you and me and nothing else.” Your voice cracks and the tears follow, running thick and wet down your cheeks. You feel his weight on the bed when he sits, then his arms as you cry into this chest.

“Do you still love me? Now that you know everything,” He asks.

His questions takes you off guard. If anything, you should be the one asking. “Of course,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Good,” he clutches you tight. “Then we will find a way.”

Three Years Later - Just outside Lunenburg, Nova Scotia

If it were up to you, you’d never leave this place.

The ocean shore lies jagged, the rocky outcrops like a torn piece of paper where they meet the rushing waves. The shore is everything at once, every sense bombarded in a way that brings your mind to elevated thought. Eyes open to every shade of blue before you, every shade from white to browns and greys for your pleasure. Eyes closed there is the cool breeze, stealing warmth, giving you the taste and smell of the brine. The ocean's faraway music takes command of your ears with crashing waves and the cries of the gulls. To the right of this little cottage home the cliff face rises sharply, graphite in the autumn sun. Between rock and wave, you sit intoxicated on the breath of mother earth, of nature and all the wonders she holds.

The front door creaks open and Sam slips out, shutting it with a carefulness usually reserved for fine china. He smiles at you, a heavy blanket swung over his shoulder and two steaming mugs of tea precariously grasped in one hand. “I defeated the beast.”

“He went down?” You scooch over, making room on the porch swing.

“It only took two baths, three books and a half hour of me making up lyrics to that Aladdin song he loves, but I did it.”

“Two baths?” You laugh.

“Well, I thought we were home free and then there was puke everywhere.”

“Sorry,” you wince. He wraps the blanket around himself before sitting and opening it for you to join him. Lying back you rest against his chest with a warm cup between both hands. “Thanks for taking over. I don’t have it in me today.”

“It’s fine, I know you’re not yet feeling a hundred percent.” He kisses the back of your head, a strong arm snaking around your belly.

“I just hope by some miracle we haven’t given it to you.” You came down with it first. It’s been a nasty flu season and you’ve spent the better part of three days sweating on the cold tile of the bathroom floor. Just as you started to feel human again, Will crawled into your bed with rosy cheeks complaining about his stomach. Things devolved from there.

“It’s inevitable.” He shrugs, “It’s freezing out here, are you sure we shouldn’t go inside?”

“I like the fresh air. Besides, it’s warmer when you’re here.” You can see the ocean from the house, waves rolling white-caped in the distance. You lean your head back on his shoulder and soak in this still, perfect moment.

“This week is gonna be crazy, I’m having to work late every night since we’re getting ready for the holiday.” Sam’s a manager at the grocery store, it’s boring and monotonous but it pays enough to keep your son in cheerios and dinosaur pajamas. Sam’s been pretty vocal about hating the work, but it doesn’t matter. You won’t be here that much longer. “We’ll need the money before the move.”

“I love it here, I don’t want to leave.” You close your eyes and listen to the gulls squawking to one another in the distance. Sam shifts behind you and then it’s two arms enveloping you as his mouth breathes warm at your temple.

“I know, but we’ve already been here too long. We gotta keep movin’.” Sam’s past may very well catch up with you one day, but until then the two of you do everything you can to play it safe. It’s all about flying below the radar and staying on your toes, blending in before moving on. “You come up with any ideas yet?”

“I was thinking Washington state or maybe Oregon. Somewhere on the coast, I want to stay near the water.”

“Sounds perfect,” he kisses your temple but you feel him tense up. “I’ll start looking tomorrow.”

“What is it?” You turn your head. “I can practically feel you overthinking.”

“Is being with me worth all this?” He’s not really asking, he knows what your answer will be, but sometimes he needs to hear you say it. “You might never see your family again. We’ll never have a real home.”

You choose the most perfect memory of your father and cling to it. Doesn’t really matter if it’s only manufactured, because for you; it was all too real. You choose it because at that moment, he was the person he should and would have always been; had it not been for the stress of life and losing you. In that snapshot his unwarped personality was something so golden and sacred you want to keep it forever. Like an old movie reel, you can play it at will; it's 1987, on the back lawn of your childhood home. He's laughing, relaxed after mowing the lawn and asks you if you want an airplane ride and of course you do. What four-year-old doesn't? In the moment, he has your right wrist and ankle. He spins like a shot-putter, but he never lets go. The garden turns into a green blur; you’re flying. Flying until he can spin no more. The memory has no smells or weather, but the garden is in fine detail: the crab apple tree, the rhododendron bush, the weeds in the flower beds. But the finest detail is his face, creased with love and your joy, not only for the ride but for being with him.

Sam is that father to your son now, and you’ll give up whatever you have to give Will these small, precious moments that are sometimes over before they begin.

“My home is with you.” You cover emotion with jest, “are you trying to get rid of us?”

“No,” Sam chuckles as you pick up his hand, running your thumb over a bluish vein. “Never.”

“It’s always going to be you and me, Sam.” You confirm. “You and me ‘till the wheels fall off.”

The End.

-

Thank you to everyone who read, enjoyed, commented on and reblogged this story. 

-

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[harrisongslimited]

An Impossible Task-A John Wick Fanfic

A/N - Moving the story along so we can hopefully get John and Cassie back together!

T/W - swearing, references to kidnapping and possible violence, angst.

Chapter 11

John immediately began staking out the ER of the hospital from his car, parked where he could watch the back door, the double doors and Cassie’s car. The dog sat next to him in the passenger’s seat, intently watching outside the front window.

“Good boy,” John told him, petting his head. “Good boy.”

For 2 days he kept track of the comings and goings of the staff, doctors, secretaries, nurses. No one approached Cassie’s car and nothing seemed out of the ordinary with the staff. It was the third day that something struck him as odd. While every car in the employee parking lot moved spots from day to day, the only cars that didn’t move were Cassie’s and a black BMW three slots away from hers.

He knew he couldn’t go to the police department with the license number to find out the owner. He couldn’t use contacts from the Continental in order to avoid the adjudicator. It was necessary to find out the information in another way. Sitting in his car, he pet the dog and tried to come up with a solution.

Spending the rest of the day in the parking lot, he finally came up with the answer. Under cover of night, he let the air out of the BMW’s front driver’s side tire then sat back in his car, waiting for daylight.

After being up for 60 hours straight, he didn’t even realize when his eyelids closed and he dozed off, his head peacefully leaning against the head rest with his dog at his side.

 Cassie wasn’t sure where she was, but the air was musty and smelled like wet earth. The staleness caught in her throat and she coughed until she adjusted to the thickness of the air. Sleepiness tried to overtake her again, but she forced herself awake to make some sense of what was happening. The last thing she really remembered was running into the hospital and getting a cup of coffee, but she didn’t think she made it to the ER department. After that, nothing.  Nothing.

There was a sound of water, like waves coming into shore, but other than that and some birds chirping, it was silent. She tried to sit so she could stand up, but her legs were like rubber bands and her eyes desperately wanted to close so she just laid back down on the bed again. Cassie heard the door to the room open and she quickly closed her eyes.

“She’s still out,” a man said, sounding aggravated with a deep, gravelly voice. “What the hell did you give her?”

“Fentynl and Versed,” a woman replied. “Versed is an amnesiac. She won’t remember a thing. Fentynl  will keep her asleep and calm.”

“Well, she needs to wake the fuck up,” the man continued, gruffly. “If they want Wick to do what they want, they are going to have to prove she’s alive, and being half dead from drugs isn’t what we need. If he thinks she’s dead, you won’t get a single thing out of him.”

“That’s totally not my headache. I’m only here to keep her sedated but functional. The rest of that shit has nothing to do with me. High Table, underneath the Table, the basement, don’t care. Who has to kill who is your problem, not mine.”

Cassie pretended to just start waking up. She thought the only things she had to protect herself were her brains and her mouth and she needed to start using them now. They were talking about killing people.

She fluttered her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Little Miss Sunshine,” the man cracked at her sarcastically. “Welcome to the world.”

“Where am I?” she asked in a low voice as she looked around the room with several swift sweeps.

“It’s your new home until your boyfriend completes a task,” the woman told her flatly, folding her arms in front of her.

“What kind of task?” Cassie sat up and held her head. The room was swirling like she was drunk. They sedated her with something.

Both the man and woman laughed.

“Do you have any clue what he is?” the woman snapped at her. “Or have you turned a blind eye to his career choices like a nice suburban doctor?”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about and I don’t care,” Cassie spat back at them, while holding the sides of her head. “Let me go for God’s sake. What’s wrong with you people? I have a life in Braxton…I have a career…family, friends…people who depend on me.”

The man spoke up. “I’m gonna cut you some slack because you were drugged to the high hills but this doesn’t really have anything to do with you. It’s all about John Wick. And one way to get to John Wick is through you. You’re really just a hapless bystander. Too bad though because when John completes his task, you’re gonna be killed anyway so I hope the people who depend on you have a Plan B.”

Tears flooded her eyes and Cassie blinked them quickly so these 2 people wouldn’t see her cry. Fear was filling in the rest of her emotions and she had to stop. She needed to think clearly if she wanted to get out of this alive and hyperventilating with anxiety wasn’t going to do her any good.

The woman pulled up a well worn chair to sit close to Cassie. “Honey, listen up. Us women need to stick together so I’m going to tell you the truth about your boyfriend…or manfriend…or partner. Whatever.”

“They call him the Baba Yaga…the boogeyman. Only he was the one they sent to kill the boogeyman.  Legend tells that he killed 3 people in a bar with a pencil and he is known as a man of commitment, focus and sheer will. You simply don’t fuck around with John Wick,” the man related.

“Look, bottom line, he’s a hitman. An assassin.  Stay with me Cassie….he’s a killing machine. A trained hunter and probably the best in the world,” the woman said, gleeful in her destructive words. “Now as a doctor, what is your first rule of medicine?”

Cassie stared at her and did not respond.

The woman pursed her lips and leaned forward. “’First, do no harm’ right? Can you live with a man who kills for a living, or is running for his life because there’s a contract out on him? Sounds a little nomadic to me. Long term probably isn’t in the cards, doc.”

The woman stood up suddenly and told Cassie, “Let’s let you chew on that for awhile. And don’t worry, we are right in the next room and can hear everything.”

 John woke with a start and quickly checked his watch. It was 8am on the dot and the car washers began to come into the parking lot in their trucks to begin the day of washing physicians’ cars. John removed his coat jacket and placed it in the back seat, then exited the car.

Walking into the main entrance of the hospital at a slow and relaxed pace, he asked the information desk where the Medical Staff Office was.

As he walked to the Office, his mind wandered to Cassie---her soft lips pressed against his, her gentle hands tangled up in his hair, a breathy, sweet voice whispering in his ear, her beautiful naked body underneath his—and how he needed to find her, how it was his fault that she was gone. He also needed to prepare himself to lose her….if they let her live. Right now, John just couldn’t think about that. He just couldn’t.  And he couldn’t think about her slapping him in the face and leaving him for what he put her through. He couldn’t lose another person he loved.

“This plan just has to work,” he thought as he walked through the door of the Medical Staff Office.

He was greeted immediately by an assistant at the first desk. “How can I help you?”

“Hi,” John began with a broad smile. “I’m from Jackson’s Car Washing Service and there seems to be a little problem with one of the doctor’s cars. We need the keys to clean the inside of the car and he said he was going to leave the keys with you. But he also has a flat tire so I wanted to let him know. Can you tell me who has a black BMW with this license plate?” John handed her a piece of paper.

“Flat tire, huh?” the woman looked up at him then began typing in her computer. “You might want to get his keys too when you see him because he didn’t leave them up here, but it’s not like this doesn’t happen 10 times a week.”

“Great,” he continued to smile. “You’re being a big help. Thanks.”

“No problem,” then she rolled her eyes. “Couldn’t let one of the docs have a dirty car, now could we?”

“Lucky for us,” he smiled broader.

“Here we go,” she finally said, writing information down on the piece of paper he had handed to her.  

John looked at the piece of paper. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yup. No question.”

“Could you give me his phone number in case I can’t find him? I’ll call his home and leave a message about his tire. Hopefully he’ll call home before he leaves.”

“Well, I’ve got a home and cell. You want both?” the assistant asked.

“Yes. Thanks. That would be terrific.”

John thanked her again and left the office. He rolled the piece of paper in his hands over and over and worried about Cassie even more now than before he walked in.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “Edwin Baker, Dr. Edwin Baker. Did he take her? But why?”

That he disliked Cassie was an understatement, but why would he take her? Could it all be one big shit show and he was following a foolish lead, with Baker having nothing to do with the disappearance? Well, he had to start somewhere and here was as good as any.

[peraltasames]

mountains and valleys (and all that will come in between) - chapter three

Jake, Amy, and four distinct yet painfully similar times the universe pulled them apart and pushed them back together.

read on ao3

part three: prison

Amy is falling apart.

It’s after the jury says “guilty”, the judge gives two of her favourite people on the planet each a sentence of fifteen years in prison, and the court is adjourned.

It’s after two officers handcuff Jake and Rosa, respectively, and she’s overwhelmed by how wrong it feels to see them on this side of the law.

It’s after Amy makes desperate eye contact with him for only a split second and attempts to convey everything she can with such a look - predominantly “I love you and I will bring you home” - but worries that her fear and pain are more evident.

It’s after Gina’s arms wrap around her and her cold fingers come up to stroke Amy’s hair and provide her with some semblance of comfort.

It’s after the squad, which is noticeably too small, convenes briefly in the hallway of the courthouse and they try to comfort each other while also making a plan, which they will begin to execute tomorrow, to bust Hawkins.

It’s after she receives offers from every one of her friends to take her for drinks or drive her home or, if going home might be too painful, to stay at one of their places.

It’s after she politely declines said offers and accepts one more hug from Charles, immediately afterwards retreating to her car in the parking lot.

It happens when she unlocks her little sedan and climbs into the driver’s seat. She turns the key in the ignition and the Enya CD automatically starts to play, but in stark contrast to their drive back from Pennsylvania only a few hours ago, there is no Jake sitting in the seat next to her and singing along or squeezing her thigh periodically while she drives.

Right away, she ejects the CD and chucks it haphazardly into the back seat, leaving her in complete silence.

That is when breaks, because life with Jake is never this quiet, but life without him - a life she knows all too well from his time in witness protection - is painfully so. Her heart feels like it’s shattering inside her chest, making her entire body physically ache, and she releases the pain with a strangled sob.

Her forehead comes to rest against the steering wheel as tears stream down her face and cloud her vision. Her ears are still ringing with the “guilty” verdict, her brain is still replaying the image of him being dragged away from her.

She doesn’t pull herself together until the sun begins to set over the courthouse parking lot. Her phone buzzes incessantly, to the point that she can no longer ignore it, and she picks it up without checking the name on the screen.

“Hello?” Her voice is weak and a little hoarse - it’s the first word she’s spoken in almost an hour.

“Amy, how was the trial?”

Her dad’s firm, formal tone shrouds most of the fear in his voice. He’s been a rock for them the past few months, offering to help pay for legal fees or come to New York and assist her in digging for evidence to indict Hawkins.

She opens her mouth to answer and no words come out, no sound other than a quiet whimper, the aftershock of the wails that just wracked her body.

“Oh, no, honey. They didn’t…”

She hadn’t been sure until now - until this horrible, awful circumstance - if her father even liked Jake. Now, with the slight trembling in his usually steady voice, she thinks he’s begun to see him more like an eighth son than his daughter’s boyfriend.

“Guilty on all charges,” she chokes out. “Jake and Rosa. They both got-they got fifteen years.“

“You’ll get them out, mija, I know you will,” Victor cuts in firmly. “You have a strong detective squad, your captain is brilliant-”

“What if we can’t, Dad?”

There’s a brief silence. If he were here, she’s sure she would see the typical pensive, thoughtful look on her father’s face as he tries to formulate the best possible response to ease his daughter’s worries. He’s always, always known the right thing to say for every situation life has thrown at her.

This isn’t a B on a math test or a mean girl who didn’t invite Amy to her birthday party, though.

“We’ll figure something out, Amy,” he responds with vague uncertainty. “Do you want your mother and I to come stay with you for a while?”

“I-I don’t know. No. I think I need to be alone and…and try to process this.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Whatever you need.” Another long pause. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“I hope so.”

She drives home, climbs into his side of the bed, and cries until it’s no longer physically possible.

-

Around half past four in the morning, Amy wakes with sweat on her forehead and bits and pieces of the dream she’s experienced every time she closes her eyes tonight still fresh in her memory.

The dreams have varied slightly, but all of them start with her in Jake’s arms, in the bed that is currently half-empty, and subsequently end with him being dragged out of a courtroom.

Needless to say, going back to sleep is not an option - she isn’t sure if her heart can take seeing his desperate eyes and shaky hands another time. Instead of closing her eyes and attempting to get more than one or two hours of rest before work, she accepts defeat.

The apartment is cold, too cold for summer, and it doesn’t help that her primary heat source is hundreds of miles away. That doesn’t help anything, actually - all it does is make her want to scream about the injustice of the state of New York and America and, really, the universe.

(She’s a good person. Good people don’t deserve to watch their boyfriend go to prison for a crime they didn’t commit.)

She proceeds with her morning routine hours ahead of schedule, filling out the crossword and drinking her coffee. She grabs a pantsuit from her side of the closet and tries not to look at the half occupied with plaid shirts and hoodies.

By six-thirty, she’s parked her car in front of the precinct. She recognizes that in order to maintain her regular workload and work on the case, there is no time to be wasted.

She’s engrossed in a witness report from one of the first robberies, her nose buried in one of the many files on her desk, when her ears faintly register footsteps and a concerned voice calling out her name.

Still, she doesn’t look up from the file - no time to be wasted.

“Santiago,” the voice says again, closer this time, followed by a much softer: “Amy.”

Only when she strays far enough from her train of thought to register who is speaking to her does she look up from her desk, a quick glance to acknowledge Captain Holt’s presence before resuming her careful perusing.

“I didn’t expect to see you today,” Holt says.

“Why not?” she asks without looking up.

“I can imagine this must be very difficult for you. Jake being convicted.” He adds the last part like she doesn’t know, like she hasn’t spent the past sixteen hours hearing the word guilty echo in her brain like a gunshot. “I thought it went without saying, but you are welcome to take a few days off is you need time to process this.”

“I can’t.”

“I’m sure your colleagues will be more than willing to cover your cases-“

“No.” She cuts him off with firmness that surprises both of them, shaking her head. “I can’t just sit at home while Jake is alone and probably terrified and in danger in a goddamn cell in the middle of nowhere. I have to find a way to get him and Rosa out. I need to be working.”

She braces herself for the speech - the reprimanding that will almost certainly end in her going home and realizing the error in her approach - but, even if the captain has crafted such a message in his mind, it never comes. He simply nods and takes a step back.

“Okay,” he speaks quietly, voice lacking its usual authoritative quality. “Just please let me know if you need anything.”

She barely manages to rasp a “thank you” before he’s in his office and closing the door behind him, his desk already covered in a similar array of papers and - maybe, hopefully - some sort of clue that will lead them to Hawkins’ arrest.

-

The first day she visits him, with Captain Holt and Charles in company, she’s left feeling much worse than before.

She’s able to hold it together during the visit, with Jake’s eyes so intently watching her every move. His analytical gaze hardly leaves her face for the entirety of the hour, and she knows that he can see the dark circles she tried her best to cover up with concealer in the airport bathroom and the smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She wishes he didn’t know her so well, or that he wasn’t such an observant person - maybe then she could fool him into thinking she’s okay.

She listens to him talk about the crappy food in the dining hall, his quirky cellmate, and the general gist of life as an inmate. She laughs when he makes a joke and smiles when he smiles at her. She tries to ignore the pit in her stomach.

Finally, she hugs him goodbye; his stubbly face brushes against hers and she can feel the loss of weight when her hand curls around his back, and she’s overwhelmed by the ways prison has already changed him physically. When she thinks about the mental and emotional toll it’s inevitably going to take, she begins to feel a little bit nauseous.

The nausea takes hold and refuses to relent when they step out of the visiting room and she hears an announcement over the P.A. that an inmate has just been stabbed in the cafeteria. She knows it’s not him - he was in her arms less than two minutes ago, there’s no way he got there that quickly - but it could be him tomorrow, or the next day, or any minute of any day until she gets him out of here.

Amy is strong, so she shakes her head when Holt asks if she needs a moment before starting their rental car and heading back to the airport to catch their flight (back to New York, back to being thousands of miles from the other half of her heart).

Amy is strong, but her stomach is decidedly not - they only make it twenty minutes down the empty South Carolina backroads before she’s blurting out a request for Holt to pull over and Charles is holding her hair back while she throws up.

The rest of the trip home - the drive, the flight, the taxi back to the precinct - is completely silent.

-

The collective concern for Amy among the Nine-Nine grows substantially after the South Carolina incident.

Gina, now on maternity leave and only weeks away from giving birth, invites her over to gossip about the other women in her prenatal class, drink tea and watch TLC shows.

Charles makes her dinner at least a few times a week after realizing how little she’s been eating at work. Nothing too weird, either - mostly pasta, casseroles, the sort of food he thinks she’s most likely to actually eat.

Holt extends an open invitation to dinner with him and Kevin, which she accepts one night when her apartment is feeling even more eerily empty than usual. Kevin tries to crack jokes about that morning’s New York Times crossword puzzle, and she tries to let herself laugh and enjoy that this would be her dream dinner under normal circumstances.

Terry comes over one Saturday morning with Ava while Sharon is at a birthday party with the twins, and Amy does feel a small resurgence of warmth in her chest while playing with Jake’s two year-old goddaughter.

While she’s incredibly grateful for her friends and their support, it doesn’t really fill the void that is drinking tequila on the couch with Rosa (the very thing that got her through much of Jake’s time in WITSEC) or making out with Jake in their kitchen on a lazy Sunday afternoon. There is no substitute for Rosa Diaz or Jake Peralta (the latter she learned the hard way years ago while trying to convince herself she could be happy with other men).

She only cries at work once. She’s been at the precinct for twelve hours, working tirelessly on a lead concerning one of Hawkins’ subordinates that ultimately led to another in a long string of dead ends. The moment she realizes she’s made zero progress in nearly five weeks - five weeks of Jake sitting in prison - she feels the floodgates open, her feet carrying her to the evidence lockup as quickly as possible as to not break down in front of the entire bullpen.

It’s no surprise, really, that a paIr of footsteps follow her and strong arms wrap around her before the first sob is released.

“It’s okay, Amy, you can let it out,” Terry says softly, patting her back.

“I can’t keep letting him down,” she whimpers. “I need to find something.”

It’s a thought she’s entertained a few too many times - that if she or someone else had been incarcerated in his place, Jake surely would’ve figured out a way to get them out by now. Jake, the brilliant detective, dedicated friend and perfect boyfriend. God, he always figures it out.

“You aren’t letting him down, you’re doing the best that you can,” he assures her. “And it’s not just your burden, okay? We’re all with you. We’re gonna get them out, together.”

She nods against Terry’s chest as the tears staining his white shirt continue to flow freely.

“I miss him so much.”

“I know, Amy. I know.”

-

It’s a Tuesday afternoon when she gets a phone call from an unknown number, and her heart nearly stops for a variety of reasons, the most worrisome being the fact that she’s Jake’s emergency contact in prison -the first person to be called if he’s injured or, god forbid, worse.

“Hello, this is Amy Santiago.” She tries to keep her voice firm and steady.

“Ames, it’s me.”

The phone almost slips out of her fingers as soon as she hears the familiar voice.

“Jake? How are - you got the contraband phone?”

“Yep,” Jake replies cheerfully on the other end. “All it took was giving a murderer some ramen.”

He sounds happy - happy for someone in his situation, anyways - and despite the way her throat tightens at the thought of him colluding with convicted murderers, she tries to be a little bit happy, too.

“I’m glad you managed to get one, babe,” she says softly, leaning forward in her desk chair. “Especially after our last visit was cut short.”

He sighs happily, and she can almost see the content, dreamy look on his face that often accompanies such a sigh buried deep in her memory.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing your voice.”

“I know.” She clutches the phone a little tighter, trying to memorize the sound of his breathing. “It’s so amazing.”

“And now every day can be like visiting day, and we can talk about whatever, whenever-“

He’s cut off abruptly, and Amy tenses as she hears the faint sound of another man’s voice in the background.

“I gotta go.”

“Jake?”

The line goes dead before she can receive a response or ascertain for herself what kind of situation had arisen that required him to hang up so quickly.

She doesn’t get much time to dwell on it; a brief moment later, Terry is calling her over to look at something in one of the robbery files.

They’re getting closer, she thinks. She’s going to get him out.

-

The spark of hope in the form of an address for a bus station is quickly extinguished. On the drive home from Linden, New Jersey, Amy feels her optimism deteriorate more with every mile. Hawkins was one step ahead of them.

Hawkins is always one step ahead of them. Maybe she always will be.

She’s trying to find some other solution, some desperate Hail Mary to save them, but not even the deepest corners of her mind can come up with any route they haven’t already explored.

Once Captain Holt comes out of his office rambling about finishing pigs, everything is shoved into hyper speed: running to change into tactical gear; storming the Slaughterhouse and the sweet vindication of Melanie Hawkins’ face as she realizes she’s lost; reluctantly complying with Holt’s orders to assist Terry in arresting the remainder of Hawkins’ men up in Queens, letting Charles and Holt go to retrieve Jake and Rosa, respectively; finally seeing every one of the people responsible for making her and her loved ones’ lives a living hell for months behind bars; scrambling to finish arrest reports without even double-checking for grammatical errors because she needs to get to the airport.

She doesn’t even have time to process what’s happening until she’s standing at the arrivals gate, her eyes glued to the TBD next to Charleston, wringing her hands together as she awaits for the ARRIVED to appear in big, green letters.

He’s coming home. After the two most gruelling and emotionally exhausting months of her life, she will finally get to hold him with no guards yelling that their time is up and kiss him until her heart pieces itself back together.

He’s coming home, he’s coming home, he’s coming home.

She repeats it like a mantra in her head to keep herself grounded to reality, so preoccupied with reminding herself she isn’t dreaming that she doesn’t notice as the sign changes - the plane landed six minutes early - and is completely unprepared and lost in her own thoughts when she hears Charles’ voice cut through the noisy room.

“Amy!”

The scene that follows is almost too cinematic to be real. The crowd seems to part serendipitously, their eyes meet at exactly the same time, the bag Jake is carrying is abandoned on the ground at Boyle’s feet as he sprints towards her. She’s too shellshocked by the perfection of it all that she only makes it a few feet before he reaches her.

His momentum nearly knocks her off her feet, but he scoops her up in his arms and spins her around - a full three-sixty - with ease, her joyous laughter ringing out through the swarm of New Yorkers reuniting with loved ones (most of them in less dramatic manner) and going utterly unnoticed by anyone other than them (and Charles, obviously).

He doesn’t set her down for a few seconds, her arms winding around his neck while she burrows her face past his hoodie and her lips connect with his collarbone.

“Oh my god, Ames,” he sighs, pulling away to look at her with hands firmly gripping her upper arms, “I can’t believe this is happening. This is real.”

She doesn’t completely register that she’s crying until she’s nodding rapidly and the tears fall from her eyes. A bright smile forms on her face, not unlike the awestruck grin on his.

“It’s real, babe.”

She isn’t sure she believes it until she says it herself: Jake is wearing a t-shirt, hoodie and leather jacket instead of an orange jumpsuit; he smells like his cologne and not the cheap prison soap; his face is completely shaven, no trace of the beard remaining. He looks like a dream.

“You got rid of the beard,” she murmurs, her thumbs brushing over his cheeks.

“With a crappy razor in a gas station bathroom, but I wanted to get rid of all evidence of prison by the time I got home. I had Charles bring me a bag of my stuff.” She manages a smile despite the ache in her chest, a small voice telling her that the ramifications of this traumatic time will not be fixed with cologne and a gas station razor. “Do you miss it?”

“Nope,” she says without thought. Then, a little quieter: “I missed you.”

“Same here, babe. You have no idea how much.”

She raises herself onto the tips of her toes to pull him in for a long, searing kiss. Her hand strokes his hair, slightly longer than the last time she ran her fingers through it. Other than that tiny, minuscule change, it feels strikingly similar to every other kiss she’s shared with her boyfriend - beautiful, right, full of love.

“I love you,” she whispers after pulling away, pecking his lips softly.

“I love you t-Boyle, c’mon man.”

She spins around to face their coworker, whose presence she had completely forgotten, where he stands only a few feet away from them, holding his phone up.

“Did you seriously film all that?” Amy asks, laughing a little because she can’t bring herself to be annoyed right now, not when Jake is stroking the small of her back.

“Can you blame me?” Charles exclaims, throwing his hands up defensively. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

She rolls her eyes, wiping a few stray tears away and leaning into Jake’s side for support. She can’t really disagree with him.

“Believe it or not, mine and Charles’ reunion was actually much more emotional,” Jake states, tilting his head down so that his nose barely brushes her temple and he can see her laugh.

“Oh, I believe it.” She takes his hand and slides her fingers into the spaces between his. “We should get going. I told the squad we’ll be at Shaw’s in half an hour and it’s gonna be a nightmare getting out of here.”

Jake sighs happily, squeezing her hand as he retrieves his bag from the floor.

“Is it weird that I actually missed New York traffic?”

-

Amy’s never been completely certain what her favourite place on Earth is.

Before today, she could’ve made an argument for a few different spots: the small reading nook off in her apartment, the fireplace at her parents’ house in New Jersey, the main branch of the New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue.

Now, as she’s nestled into a booth with Jake and Rosa on either side of her, Jake’s arm around her and his chest vibrating as he laughs at a story Charles is telling, she is certain there’s no completion.

As glorious as the sounds of her reunited squad’s laughter and as warm as the look on Jake’s face is making her insides, there are certain things that cannot be done or said until they are alone. With every kiss he presses to her cheek and every stroke of her hand on his thigh, she longs for the privacy of their apartment.

“Let’s go home,” she murmurs in his ear after an hour or so.

He doesn’t argue or even hesitate, he just nods, presses a subtle kiss to her head and begins saying goodbye to each member of the squad.

As she watches him hug Charles, who is reluctant to let go, shake hands with Captain Holt and Terry, squeeze Rosa’s shoulder and stop to smile brightly at Hitchcock and Scully, she feels the tectonic plates of her world begin to shift back together. It isn’t exactly normal, but it’s on its way to being something resembling normal. Maybe something better, some time in the future.

He wraps his arm around her waist, his fingers grazing the material of her soft, pink sweater as he thanks everyone one more time and says he’ll see them at work on Monday, which is the most delightfully mundane statement Amy’s ever heard.

Their limbs tangle in the back of the cab; her leg is crossed and draped over his and his arm is hung around her shoulders. It’s intimate yet casual until his hand reaches down to rest on her thigh, starting close to her knee and inching upwards. It’s warm and comforting at first, but his touch ignites her body with ease after two months without this kind of intimacy.

She glances up at him to find his eyes already on her, dark and focused. He knows exactly what he’s doing to her, and it’s fully intentional.

It’s not an easy feat, but she restrains from kissing him until she unlocks their front door - she isn’t sure if she’ll be able to stop kissing him once she begins - and he has a moment to take in their apartment for the first time in way too long.

The apartment is dark, lit only by the small light above the stove and the glow of the city through the window, and neither of them move to turn on the lights. Instead, they move towards each other like magnets, her hands cupping his face and his tugging at her waist as their lips meet.

All of the tenderness of the kisses they shared at the bar is gone as they relish in finally, finally being alone in a room together. It’s been months since she’s kissed him this deeply. She’s missed the ability to prove her love for him through her actions rather than just telling him repeatedly through the speaker of a cheap prison phone.

She doesn’t realize she’s been gently pushing him forward, unknowingly moving through the apartment, until the backs of his legs connect with the couch and he’s pulling her down next to him. Never breaking the kiss, Amy shoves the leather jacket and hoodie off of him all at once and lets them fall to the floor, her hands immediately flying to run up and down his newly-exposed biceps.

Still feeling far too separate from him, Amy swings her leg over to straddle his waist and slowly thrusts against him while simultaneously deepening the kiss, a move which earns her a low moan from Jake’s lips. He tugs off her sweater and the tank top underneath in one swift movement, discarding them in the pile of his already-removed garments. Warm hands sweep over her back and pull her closer.

“I missed you so much,” Amy mutters frantically when she takes a second to pull away for air.

“You have no idea, Santiago,” Jake groans, his eyes trailing her lacy black bra that she definitely wore on purpose for his homecoming while his hands unbutton her jeans and stroke the sides of her matching underwear.

Amy kisses him again and pulls at the bottom of his t-shirt until he frees his arms to assist her in tugging it over his head. Her fingers drift downward, grazing his ribs, and quickly pull away as soon as she feels him tense below her.

“Sorry, babe, are my hands too cold-“

She glances down, her eyes widening as she takes in the array of faded bruises and scars covering much of her boyfriend’s torso.

“Jake...” she whispers, her hand covering her mouth as she takes in every inch of discolouration on his ribs, abdomen, back and shoulders.

“I’m okay!” he cuts in quickly, glancing down in surprise as if he’s seeing this for the first time, too. “It’s really not that bad, Ames. Trust me, it looks a lot worse than it is.”

She shakes her head, blinking back the tears that have already formed. “What happened? Was this that Romero guy? You promised me you didn’t do anything dangerous to get the phone-“

“No, babe, it wasn’t him,” Jake assures her, gently guiding her waist so that she’s sitting next to him, her legs still draped over his lap. “He asked me to kill a guard, so I decided to let the guard beat me up on camera to try to get him fired instead. It was weeks ago, I’ve mostly healed, I swear.”

Amy nods, biting her lip to stifle a sob and reaching out to grab one of his hands between both of hers.

“So you were safe after that, right? Nobody else touched you?”

“Yeah. I mean, things got kinda complicated, in a weird turn of events my cannibal cell mate ended up getting stabbed for me, but-“ Jake stops as he sees her eyes widen with fear once more. “I was mostly safe. Don’t worry. I’m fine now, really.”

She can hardly process the idea of him locked up with murderers and cannibals, her boyfriend with a heart of gold surrounded by so much evil makes her feel queasy, but she tries to suppress her emotions for his benefit. He’s just been through hell, he doesn’t need to see the pain she’s endured through this experience just yet.

“I’m going to speak to Captain Holt in the morning and file an official complaint against that guard and the prison,” Amy says with a slightly clearer voice, squeezing his hand a bit tighter.

For a moment, Jake looks like he’s going to tell her to let it be and leave this all in the past, but he just nods and pulls his hand away to wrap his arm around her shoulders and bring her closer.

“Let’s not talk about it any more tonight, okay?”

She buries her face in his neck, fully aware that he can feel the tears leaking onto his skin, and nods slowly.

“You’re home,” she murmurs, her hand rubbing small circles on his thigh. “You’re really here.”

“I’m here.” His lips press a kiss, long and warm, against her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

His lips move back to hers and his hands back to her jeans, pulling them down to her ankles while they kiss as fervently as before.

“We should-”

“Yep,” Jake says against her lips before she can finish. His hands swoop down to lift her up and she curls her legs around his waist in response, continuing to distract him with her tongue as he slowly walks them towards their bedroom.

-

The birds aren’t yet chirping and the sky is still dark, but it’s indisputably morning by the time Jake pulls out of her and presses one long, lingering kiss on her lips before flopping down on his side of the bed.

They made love slowly and softly, neither in a hurry for it to be over, holding on as long as possible to keep it from ending. In one word, it was incredible.

(If more words were to be used, Amy would describe it as more passionate and loving and emotional than she knew it could be, even with the man she knows to be the love of her life.)

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Amy asks as she curls into his side and places her head on his chest, dropping a few light kisses before settling in comfortably.

“A few times in the past hour. But you should probably say it again for good measure.”

She does, and she kisses his knuckles, which are intertwined with hers, after each syllable.

“I love you too, honey.” It’s a new term of endearment from him, and it warms her heart almost as much as the words that precede it. “So much.”

“Life really sucks without you,” she says, absentmindedly playing with his fingers.

“Agreed. Let’s never do it again.”

It’s not a proposal, but her detective brain takes note of the glint in his eye and the way he’s noticeably staring down at her left hand. She certainly doesn’t need a diamond ring or a white dress or any legal confirmation of their love to be happy, but she really wouldn’t be surprised if those things are a part of her near future.

Regardless of whether they exchange proper vows some time six months or a year or ten years from now, there isn’t a shadow of doubt in her mind that she’ll love this man for the rest of her life.

[buckybarnesappreciationsociety]

“Always By Your Side” Part 1

Summary: Rachel Barnes out running errands, had no idea the trip would hold dire consequences.

Word Count: 1,621

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Rachel Barnes

OFC: Gracie and Grant Barnes, Tony, Sam. Steve, Clint, Nat, Wanda, William and Jackie Kaufman (Rachel’s parents,) Drs. Miller and Rittenour, Nurse Peterson

Warning: Drunk driver death, severe injuries, major, major angst (for now)

A/N:Thanks @buckysforeverprincess for taking time to beta my mess! Also, to my wonderful mutuals who tagged me in uplifting posts. Whether you knew it or not, I needed them! I love y’all to the moon and beyond!

WARNINGS ARE POSTED AT THE BEGINNING OF EACH CHAPTER. IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU IN ANY WAY, PLEASE DO NOT READ!

MY DEEPEST CONDOLENCES TO THOSE WHO HAVE LOST A LOVED ONE OR FRIEND TO DRUNK DRIVING.

THIS SERIES DELVES INTO THE AFFECTS ON BUCKY AND HIS FAMILY. ALSO, THE LONG ROAD AHEAD FOR RACHEL.

FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME! THANKS FOR READING!

                                          <><><><><><><><><><>

Rachel Barnes decided to run errands while Bucky stayed home with their 6 year old twins, Grant and Gracie. No longer in the field, he revelled spending time with family.

Using the hands free cell phone feature in her minivan, Rachel called Bucky informing him about her trip to the bookstore.

“Hey babe, stopping by the bookstore. What are you guys doing?” Chuckling, her husband shook his head. “We’re in the common room hanging out. Doll, thought you weren’t gonna buy’um any more stuff?”

“James, the twins love bedtime stories, so I’m picking up new books. Love you honey.” “Love you too baby girl. See ya soon.”

“Daddy, was that momma? What’s she bringing us?” Grant inquired. “Guess ya gotta wait n’see.”

Groaning, the twins turned around coloring with Wanda.

On Rachel’s way to the bookstore, a drunk driver swerved, crashing into her car head on, killing him on impact.

Forward motion catapulted her into the windshield, snapping the seatbelt. Rachel sustained extremely life threatening injuries.

Glancing at his watch, Bucky noticed the time. “Rachel should’ve been here by now. I left my phone on the living room table. I’ll be back.” “Okay daddy.”

Opening the door, Bucky noticed 3 calls from an unfamiliar number. Concerned, he dialed back.

“Is this Mr. James Barnes? My name is Dr. Miller at Mt. Sinai Hospital.”

Bucky’s breath quickened. “Y-yes, th-this is James Barnes.”

“Sir, I’m sorry to tell you this but Mrs. Barnes was life flighted to our hospital. She’s in critical and unstable condition. Please come ASAP.”

White noise...drowning….breathe….breathe! . “Mr. Barnes, are you still there?

“We’re on the way.” “I’ll be at the 11th floor nurses desk.” “O-okay. Thanks.”

“Daddy, is mommy on her way back?” Wanda sensed Bucky’s agony.

“Hey, little ones,”  holding Gracie’s hand, “Would you like to watch movies and have a pajama party?” Wanda put on a brave face. Bucky mouthed “Thank you.”

“Yay,” the twins squealed in unison. “C’mon, time for our party!!” Steve walked in the common room noticed tears streaming down Bucky’s face.

“Buck, what’s going on?” Tony, Sam and Clint joined in.

“A drunk driver hit Rachel. It ain’t looking so good. I can’t be here.”

Tony, Steve, and Clint sprang to action. “Barton, get the quinjet ready. Rogers, you go with Barnes. I’ll stay here call Rach’s parents and send the private jet for them! Go! Steve, keep us updated.”

                                          <><><><><><><><><>

Touching down on the hospital roof, Steve and Bucky sprinted towards the doors, with Clint in pursuit.

Dr. Miller and Nurse Peterson escorted them to the staff elevator.

“Mr. Barnes, the CT scan showed a subdural hematoma, a collection of blood between the covering and surface of the brain. Our neurologists has stressed how important surgery is. She’s being prepped now.”

Upset, Bucky wanted to know why they waited so long. Dr. Miller explained the surgical team wanted to pinpoint the exact area of the bleeding. Bucky gave consent to proceed with surgery.

Two neurologists, three nurses, an anesthesiologist were the first team operating on Rachel. Tony called ahead ensuring she got the best doctors on the planet.

Bucky’s leg bounced up and down, tears staining his face. “Stevie, m’scared. It’s bad; it’s really bad.” Clint and Steve rallied around him.

Entering the 7th hour of surgery, Dr. Miller finally emerged with an update. Bucky, Steve and Clint stood. “Gentlemen, please have a seat.”

“Doc, how is she?” Bucky’s eyes had lost their light.

“Mr. Barnes, your wife coded twice, but we were able to resuscitate her. Mrs. Barnes has close to 70 stitches to her hands, arms, face and neck.”

Dashing towards a nearby wastepaper basket, Bucky emptied his stomach. Wiping his mouth, Bucky asked to see his wife. Dr. Miller advised against it. As much as he didn’t want to, Steve agreed with the doctor.

“The next 24 hours are crucial. We’ve set up a private waiting room complete with coffee, food, wifi, full bathroom and a private phone. Also, there are two sleeper sofas and two lounge chairs. I’ll be back if there’s any more news.”

Blood of the innocent stains my hands, so is this my penance? Tell me what to do!!! Please, don’t take her away from us!!! Gracie and Grant need her, so do I. 

                                      <><><><><><><><><><>

William and Jackie Kaufman, Rachel’s parents, arrived at the compound. Gracie and Grant were surprised but happy to see their grandparents.

“Nana, grampy what are you doing here? We missed you.” Pulling the twins into a hug, Mr. Kaufman tried to compose himself.

“We missed our doodle bugs. My goodness, you’ve grown.” Grant nodded. “I play soccer!!”

Gracie added, “Me too!!!”

“Gracie and Grant, how would you like to see what Dr. Banner is working on? He has pizza and soda. Wanda, take our junior scientists to lab. Be sure to give them a lab coat!” Tony ran interference.

“C’mon auntie Wanda!!!! Let’s go!!! See ya later nana and grampy!!! Love you!!!” After the twins left, Mrs. Kaufman couldn’t contain her pain. Sam and Nat comforted them as best as possible.

Rachel’s dad asked if Bucky had called with an update. “No we haven’t heard anything.” Nat dabbed her eyes.

Tony’s cell phone buzzed. “Hey Steve. Rachel’s parents are here.” “Take them to the conference room, make sure it’s soundproofed.”

Once in the conference room, Tony put the phone on speaker. “Okay we’re set.”

“Hello Steve.” “Hello Mrs. Kaufman.” “How’s our daughter? Where’s James?”

“Um, he’s in no condition to talk. The docs gave him a sedative. I’m not gonna lie. Rachel’s in bad shape. You should come to the hospital. They’re saying she might not make it. M’sorry ma’am.”

Sam, Nat, and Mr. Kaufman gasped. “No, please don’t say that. We’re on our way!!!”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., ready the helicopter. Wilson and Romanoff, escort the Kaufman’s. The twins will probably get suspicious. How do you want us to handle it?”

Mr. Kaufman didn’t know how to answer. “My mind’s so jumbled, I’ll leave that to James. Thank you for everything Tony.”

 “No need to thank me. Keep us updated.” 

                                          <><><><><><><><><><>

Groggily gazing around the room, Bucky noticed Clint asleep in one of the lounge chairs. Steve munched on a sandwich.

Steve helped Bucky sit up. “Hey pal. How are ya feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by an 18-wheeler. What did they do t’me?”

“Nurse had to sedate ya.” “What’d I do?”

“Nothing anyone in your position would’ve done. Rach’s parents are on the way. Try and eat something will ya?”

“Have you heard anything from Dr. Miller? How are my kids?” Bucky sipped on coffee.

“No one’s been in. The twins are fine. They don’t know anything.” “M’gonna have t’talk to them. S’gonna be hard.”

                                         <><><><><><><><><><>

Mr. and Mrs. Kaufman, Sam and Nat arrived at the hospital. Dr. Miller introduced himself. Everyone listened attentively as he provided an update on Rachel’s condition.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Barnes’ condition hasn’t changed. Mr. Barnes, Mr. and Mrs. Kaufman, Dr. Rittenour would like to have a word with you. I’ll take you to his office.”

Dr. Rittenour Chief Neurologist, requested a meeting. He wanted to know how to proceed in case Rachel’s condition deteriorated further.

“Mr. Barnes, wh-?” Bucky stopped him mid-sentence. “No stop it! Rachel’s gonna be just fine!”

Gently touching his arm, Mrs. Kaufman cautioned her son-in-law, “James, don’t you think this is hard for us as well? She’s our only child; our daughter. We’ve watched her grow from a rambunctious little girl to a wife, mother of twins.” Tears rolled down her weary face.

“I trust you to make the right decision, if necessary.” “I dunno how to do this. She’s my lifeline. How am I supposed to go on without her?”

“Please, if I may interject? The next 24 hours are crucial. We’ll monitor her closely. Mr. Barnes, would you like to visit your wife? You’ll have only 5 minutes I’m sorry. Let her know you’re here.”

Rachel’s parents nodded. “Give her our love.” “Okay.”

Drs. Miller and Chandler escorted Bucky to the SICU. His breath hitched when Rachel came into view. Bandages, ventilator, EKG, EEG machines, IV and blood drips.

Whimpering, Bucky steadied himself. Rachel’s still, bandaged form buckled his knees. Dr. Miller helped him to a chair near her bed.

On instinct, he reached for her hand, only having to pull away. “Doc gave me a few minutes wit’cha. Grant and Gracie miss ya like crazy. Your parents send their love. I’m a mess baby. Ya gotta fight Rachel. ‘Member when we first met? Gosh you were stubborn. Made me love ya even more. I’ll always be by your side. I love ya.”

Before he left, Bucky smoothed the blanket on Rachel’s bed. “Would ya like me to bring your favorite blanket and a picture of Grant and Gracie? I will. I love you with all my heart.”

Rachel Yvette Barnes faced insurmountable odds. Bucky couldn’t fathom his life without her. And if he had a say in the matter, he’d make sure Rachel didn’t give up either.

@crazy-little-thing-called-buck

[thecrotchhand]

health class >:(

-ug

-did somebody say rick of suicide

-”ooh, there’s a laser!” -student teacher

-good ways to manage stress- “punching a hole through the wall”

-”do you have a long-term goal?” “dying”

-”we should deport justin bieber back to canada”

-”if you say you're gonna do something, then do it" "i'm gonna kill myself ;))"

-"i'm busy singing Africa by Toto" *off-key singing continues*

-"when you lose weight, where does it go?" "it goes to weight heaven"

-the guy next to me started playing Africa quietly from his phone

-"i'm talking to bowl cut. just kidding chris. i love you." "...i'm getting a haircut."

-"you don't lift to get swole" -st

-"that sounds not good for you" "i'm gonna try it"

-"during pregnancy, the women in here are gonna need more folate, iron, and calcium" "no, i'm gonna need a coathanger"

-"liar liar pants for hire"

-"is eustress good stress or bad stress?" (long silence) "it's good stress! yay!" -st

-good ways to relax- "11 hours straight of anime"

-"everything's gonna be ok" lmao good joke

-"precipitation... wait i mean perspiration. it still counts, it's raining from your body."

-ways to manage depression- "kill yourself :D"

-help the teacher (flynn) has been yelling at us for the past five minutes

-uh oh she said damn it's gettin' wild

-she went back into her office after and all of a sudden we hear a quiet "oh, happy Wednesday"

-"is it possible to have an abortion 700 weeks late?"

-"what's the r-word we talked about?" "rawr XD"

-"what does autonomy mean?" "it's like grey's anatomy but for cars"

-alcoholism is a good sims trait

-guy: sneezes

guy's friend: "god bless... america"

-”what do you say to your sibling during an argument?” "you should've been aborted" “no”

- "your personality might be kind of boring" "like a potato!" "yeah"

-"what does down to earth mean?" "it means you're like the lorax, you speak for the trees"

-"he was happy?" "yeah! put him working with me and larson for ten years and... we fixed him!"

-the student teacher generally has a habit of sarcastic yaying and it entertains me

-"jason (chris) move your head" "just throw a rock at it, it'll move"

-someone was trying to come up with weird phobias and someone suggested genital herpes

-"sir you've been diagnose with hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia " "aahHH"

-"if someone comes up to you and says a mean word, you're gonna be upset" "hey sam" "what" "fuck"

-"i found a big circle"

-"*cough* flynn"

flynn, out of nowhere: "i heard that"

-"have you guys seen cabin in the woods?" "wait, the one with the cabin in the woods?"

-:(

-"let's say you don't have a gun" "pft, not in america"

-we were talking about miscarriage and cody goes "fetus... deletus"

-examples of anger- "when mcdonald's doesn't have ice cream"

-video from the 80's: "depression isn't talked about"

-a seal saved this guy's life and he just: 'ah yes it was all because of god' ¿¿¿???

-80's commercials are the weirdest shit

-yepperdoodles

-"...gonna get addicted to xanax"

-"you guys all did a really good job on your tests" "i got a C" "i got a D+" "yeah there wasn't a single person i was not happy with"

-"you say you see really good scores, but what i'm seeing is a D"

-examples of compromise- "i got a D+, but i feel i deserved an A, so let's meet in the middle with a C" "but what do i get out of it?" "if he passes the class, you don't have to see him anymore"

-"oh no my one feeling"

-"what are some ways to resolve conflict?" "killing yourself"

-"put away the candy this is health class"

-(talking about conflict) "...then the fire nation attacked"

-(softly) "yo what the heck dawg"

-"if they started a rumor-" "kill them"

-"when i was-" "a young boy"

-"you got two more weeks with the student teacher, then you get me back" *high pitched screaming*

-"they never broke out, and then one of them broke out"

-"wrestling uniforms are skimpy"

-(across the room) "hey man, can i touch your butt?" "i don't mind, dude"

-"let's say my wife is going to leave me and i'm... celebrating! oh wait"

-"they're fat and skinny, they're white, black, pink, purple, and orange-" "trump"

-"listen, idiotface"

-"do you think... the government is hiding the cure for cancer...?"

-i love government conspiracy theories during health

-"i... declare... bAnkrUptCY"

-"are we watching a movie?" "maybe if we're lucky it's the ring and it'll kill us"

-lmao i don't need drugs to feel numb

-"aww, flynn, we know you're drinkin' a bottle in the back room" "yeah, just look at ya, why wouldn't i?"

-The Weed™

-"weed stops your sperm from being produced correctly" "perfect, it's birth control too"

-"weed might shrink your... parts" "i think i'll just stick to meth"

-"weed might give you a special needs child" "it's wilson 2.0!"

-"i'm gonna be a drug dealer but not a mean one like a nice, happy 'eyy, wanna buy some drugs? :3'"

-oh no, grandma's growing weed in the basement

-"ahh, the weed's on fire"

-"guess that's how they caught the drug dealers. the deer were high"

-teacher: "ooh, i just sounded like yoda: don't smoke The Weed™"

-"hey, where can you buy a still? asking for a cousin"

-"raise your hand if you want to watch hentai"

-this guy keeps responding to people with "yes, my child?"

-"they put aborted fetuses in vaccines" "oh honey no"

-"how do you keep yourself from getting sick?" "stop breathing"

-examples of painkillers- "cocaine"

-"i know elvis presley is still alive because the king never dies"

-biggest drinker in our grade: "am i gonna be an alcoholic?" class: "you already are"

-c o m p r o m i s i n g  p o s i t i o n

-"trick question, i am hentai"

-"what would you do... if i said i could put you in your own hentai"

-"you're gettin' a hole in your nose oh my goodness"

-"depression" "nope" "wait... depression"

-"I can't remember the happiness i felt before drugs" "i can't remember feeling happiness at all"

-"oh you're back! just in time for meth"

-"oh my garage"

-"lotta meth in that town" "nah just incest"

-"it kills your brain cells. which some of you can't afford (staring directly at the class alcoholic)"

-"why do dentists have the highest suicide rate?? probably because everyone hates the dentist, i dunno"

-"that's accusations" "uuuuuhh no" "oh"

-"oh my gads. you got some meth?"

-"in the puss!" "terms" "sorry. vag!"

-"there's a pretty good chance that drug came out of someone's anal cavity" "that's why i don't do heroin"

-"hey, whose buttocks did this come out of?"

"i'm gonna go shoot myself with some dog food, brb"

-"oh my chicken pie"

-"i've been told we're gonna draw a penis"

-help they're genuinely discussing giving babies steroids

-"most of the female reproductive cells are useless" "just like my brain cells"

-the teacher keeps referring to developing babies as "little rat" and "alien creature"

-"if you eat my period snacks, i will eat you"

-*chiming* "is that santa??"

-"what's the only fluid that doesn't go to the baby?" "water" "no" "air" "no" "earth" "..." "fire"

-"you're supposed to snort those calcium pills" "don't snort the calcium pills"

-"mr. o'reilly, when'd you miss your period?"

-"is it true you puke the day after you get pregnant?" "no, if you puke the day after, it's from the alcohol the night before"

-fetus = jumbo shrimp

- i too, am a very sad lookin' heart

-"no, you cannot throw up your baby"

-"now that we've taken the baby home, we need to figure out what to do with it" "flush it down the toilet"

-"if you wear a hat all the time, all your hair is gonna fall out and die" "ha ha kevin, you're gonna die"

-"since i was 14. and i'm 112"

-"big dumb"

-"what do you want to be when you grow up?" "dead"

-"my parents say: 'hey... whatcha doin' with that 24-pack?'"

-"did jeffery dahmer's mom love him?" "hope not"

-"ohh i love the smell of babies *sniff sniff*"

-"they can be found in places that are... places"

-"why are there rotting apples under here?" "no you gotta let those ferment"

-"what's something you lose by age 3?" "hope"

-the guy in front of me had marvel porn on his phone????????????? hentai hulk's bright red ass is permanently ingrained in my mind

-"what am i supposed to do to live 2 more years? wrap myself in bubble wrap and eat brussel sprouts?"

-"for every 10 pounds overweight you are, subtract 1." "-50"

-"you're wearing a flamingo shirt, you're no one's favorite"

-"you don't snort viagra"

-"how do you feel about having guns in our home?" "how do you feel about how quickly i'd use it to kill myself?"

-"hey, 2 seniors walking down the hallway! wanna give her your papers?" "outta my way. hey! get back here and gimme your papers, ya bums."

-"it's not just the genitals that transfer STDs" "left calf"

-"what if they got an STD some other way?" "drinking sprite"

-"...serial monogamy-" "cereal is for mornings"

-"...trading sex for-" "chicken nugget"

-"you wanna try sex wearing a hazmat suit, go ahead" "don't kinkshame me"

-"STI: spaghetti time infection. it's an epidemic"

-"g- ross"

-"AIDS didn't come from sex with a monkey" "it's definitely about sex with monkeys"

-"what kinds of drugs do i need if i have AIDS?" "nothing, you wanna die"

-"do you know what they do to get rid of genital warts?" "chop your dick off" "mix wart cream with water and drink it"

-oh no they found out what they do get rid of genital warts

-"they shove a q-tip in your penis" "iiiiii'd rather die"

-"is that what tinder is? swipe right if you want crabs?"

-"i would suggest not setting your genitals on fire"

- "your penis doesn't do tricks"

-"do you have a driver's license? *nod* "do you have a car?" *nod* "are you a big boy?" *unsure nod*

-"i know it's only the last day but i will make you suffer for every last minute" "then i'll just do what i always do *sleeps*"

-our resident alcoholic was washing the board and people were jokingly flirting with him so he tied his shirt into a bikini and continued washing so the teacher docked him points for it. don't worry he was already failing

[copperbora]

Concept Writing - Kit at the Vet

Heyo, beautifuls! I thought I’d share this piece, which is a concept for a maybe future story. Note that there’s certain elements which I’m not happy with - wolves are so overdone in shape shifting genre - but it’s still a great start and I hope that you enjoy it. 

Kit at the Vet By Rosanna P. Brost October 26th 2017

A kind, animal loving woman is sobbing. She has brown eyes, curly black hair and her husband is as bald as a baseball, with a voluminous moustache capable of winning best in show in any facial hair competition. He sits with one arm around her, consoling her and using his other hand to pet the strawberry blonde and grey dog laying at their feet. Despite the blood matted in the dog’s fur on one hind leg, it appears to be mildly annoyed, as does the receptionist who is sitting at the clinic’s counter. The waiting room is painted a soothing green, the floor is honeyed wood and the dog is really wishing that she could do something about the leash in the lady’s hand, which is so inconveniently attached to her neck, which the man won’t stop touching.

The dog is me and I am not a dog at all but a wolf but I’m also not that either, because I am actually Aurora Peters, Homo sapiens. These schmucks who have brought me in to Pleasant Hill Veterinary Practice are just two more in an annoyingly long line of idiots who apparently can’t read the ‘if found injured, please admit to hospital, not vet’ tag on my collar, or my name, or my mom’s phone number or even my home address. Instead, they’ve all taken me to the vet and it’s only stupid luck that there is only one veterinary practice in town for them to come to. Everyone here knows me, right down to the Russian Blue greeter cat, who has just come to say hi, but Jacob Hars, my well-meaning benefactor, rudely shoos her away. Luna gives a dissatisfied brrrt and wanders off, tail waving in the air, passing Doctor Hank Johnson as he steps out with a clip board. I meet his eyes and we share a moment of shared disgruntlement, then he greets my benefactors, the Hars, who tearily declare the usual.

“Doctor, we think she was hit by a car -”

“Her owners should know better than to let her roam!”

“There’s no name on her collar at all -”

“Doctor, if her people don’t want her, we’ll take her! She’s a beautiful animal!”

“I am truly grateful for your concern for this animal, Mister and Missus Hars,” says Hank charitably, “but I assure you, Kit has a good home and we have her on record. She’s just got a nasty little habit of jumping fences, that’s all.”

The Hars gasp and complain a bit more, but eventually Hank chivvies them out, the receptionist Tanja assuring them that they really do know me, then Hank pulls me into the back room with one of the clinic’s leashes. The moment that we’re through the door and out of sight of the waiting room he unclips the leash from my collar and glares at me. Despite the fact that he’s one tall dude, colour me uninspired - after all, there’s rainbow tabby cats all over his scrubs and he wears a bowtie decorated with paw prints. Plus, he’s like family to me, almost a second father; we even celebrate Christmas together every year and I gave him a birthday present just last week. (An obnoxiously lurid set of new scrubs, of course.)

“Kitsune, you gotta stop getting yourself into so much trouble,” says Hank crossly. “What’d you even do to yourself, girl?”

With some effort, because doing so opposes my current cute ‘n fluffy form, I speak, “I got caught in a barbed wire fence. It was rather against letting me continue on my merry way.”

He rolls his eyes. “You know, there are safer ways of practicing your bloody shape shifting! Couldn’t you have waited for shutzhund tomorrow?”

Ahh, shutzhund. Some girls have volleyball, some girls have jogging and then there’s freaks like me who compete in the lovely German dog sport of mauling guys in heavily padded protective suits - as a dog. My team mate is even a real dog, Hank’s champion Russian bred German Shepherd Vlad, (who, if you’re wondering, does indeed kick my ass at Shutzhund.) Hank got me into it because he figured that since I insist on moving around on all fours and pretending more or less to be canine, I needed to learn how to defend myself that way. Thus far, it has helped me learn how to bark convincingly, which has proven incredibly entertaining.

“Work was so boring, I needed to go out for a run,” I say, extending my hind leg and wincing at the shallow gash in it. “Good thing I’ve had my tetanus shot, eh?”

“Aurora Peters, what season is it?” demands Hank, crossing his arms.

“Fall…?” I say, cocking my head to signal my what-are-you-getting-at because honestly I have no idea why he is asking this dumb question.

“Yes, it’s Fall - hunting season, Aurora! The time of year when a bunch of idiots with guns who don’t know a deer from a shadow are running around our fields and forests looking for wildlife to put bullets in! And what are you, currently, woman?” he snarks. 

I glance at myself, then bare my teeth in a smirk which I have been perfecting in front of my mirror. “Gorgeous.”

Hank looks heavenward, as if asking God for help with bettering my youthful lack of brain cells. “A wolf! And if they don’t mistake you for a wolf, which lots of idiots hate, they’ll mistake you for a bloody flaming coyote, which people hate even more! Do you want a bullet in your brain, woman? ‘cus I can’t fix that!”

He likes calling me ‘woman’ - it’s as if he’s trying to remind me that I am actually a human, a fact which I am quite painfully aware of, thank you. 

“Not particularly,” I say, “but I wasn’t really in a field -”

“It don’t matter!” snaps Hank. “Kitsune, you gotta stay in town right now! And wear a bloody reflective vest, you ninny - emulate dog instead of arrooo.”

I sniff, “I wear it when I am hiking, but I need someone to put it on for me and I was alone, so -”

“Couldn’t you have stopped by here? Or gotten Rick, anybody to put it on for you?”

I look at him blankly, silently admitting: this would have been smart.

“But I’m alone tonight, so how the heck would I get it off afterwards?” I ask shrewdly.

Cue another eye roll. “You come by here and I’d take it off for you, you know I’m here for another hour. Kit, why can’t you have a weekday hobby? Why do you have to spend every spare minute you have running naked around town?”

He’s right, actually; if I were to transform right now, I would be naked, a fact which many townspeople have witnessed, thanks to the first time that I was hit by a bicycle (bikes are my nemesis) and the good Samaritan cyclist tried to help me. When I spoke up to say that I had just been stunned and was fine, the cyclist had fainted. Me, being kind of an idiot, had transformed back to perform CPR if needed, thinking they were in cardiac arrest - and at that moment, a long line of kindergartners had walked past the park where we were with their teacher on the way to the pool, the kids discovering quite abruptly what boobs look like. I had been unable to concentrate enough to change back, so I had ran streaking for home, only for my embarrassment to become truly complete by the police officer who had stopped by to write me a ticket for public indecency that evening. It had not ended there - for weeks I had had the parents of the kindergartners being terribly rude to me and that was about the time when I opted to spend the rest of my secondary education at home. 

“Well, since you were dumb and forgot to bring by another set of clothes for circumstances like this from the last time that you swore you wouldn’t show up here like this, you can spend the rest of my shift hanging out with Vlad until I can drive you home,” determined Hank and he herded me into his office, where Vlad was quite happy to slobber all over my face. Tail clamped between my hindquarters to thwart Vlad’s mundane yet cherished canine hobby of butt sniffing, I turned back to the door, just as Hank was about to shut it. His eyebrows shunted low over his dark eyes and I nervously laid back my ears.

“Y’know, Kit, someday this shape shifting nonsense is going to get you into some real trouble, and I might not be there to help,” said Hank and with these forbidding words, he walks off, cheerfully calling a greeting to his next, real patient.

Unfortunately, he repeats this warning in some format every time I end up at his clinic on four legs - after all, that’s how we first met - so I don’t really listen to him. Instead, I proceed to horse around with Vlad.

Like an idiot.

[iammarylastar]

THE EXCEPTION

CHAPTER 5: ADVANCE AUSTRALIA FAIR

He was safe. He was safe in her arms. His head resting on Mieke’s lap. Her hands stroking his face and running through his hair. Her lips deliciously trailing kisses along his swollen face, soothing his pain. Telling so much “I love you it felt like in Heaven.  No more pain.

“Wake up!” She whispered in his ear.

He hummed. He didn’t want to wake up. He wanted to stay here, wrapped in her arms, forever.

“Come on! Wake up!” The voice was more insistent.

Let me sleep Mieke, please I’m exhausted. Keep nursing me. Keep rocking me against your chest. I love your voice. I need your touch. Your scent is marvelous. Mieke I love you, let me rest on your thighs for a while.

“Wake up bastard!” The voice barked.

A fist crashed on his jaw, the taste of blood invaded his mouth. Again. He opened his eyes, at least he tried. His swollen eyelids barely allowed him to see anything. Whatever, his sight is so blurry.  He grunted. The shadow in front of him was not Mieke. Obviously. He spit some blood out, the coppery taste didn't leave his mouth.

“Speak asshole!” The man ordered, sending another punch in his temple.

The way the man was destroying his face taught him he was not the same who knocked him down. And hit Mieke and frightened their baby daughter.

Bree!

He clenched his teeth, not from pain, he didn’t feel anything anymore. His face and body were wrecked, smashed in pieces after being beaten up for hours.  He clenched his broken jaw from rage.

Anderson.  That’s how he had introduced himself before accusing him, crossing the threshold of his fucking house to trample his life and ruin all his hopes for happiness. He swore he would kill him. As soon as he would have his hands freed from those handcuffs which tied his wrists behind his back.

“Mieke…” he mumbled, worried to death about the fate for his family. His wife and baby. He only could remember the awful sound of their cries.

FUCK!

“Speak louder! What’s your name!”

Stefan’s head tumbled and jerked under the relentless punches of the other man in black.

Schmidt. Or something like that. Sounded more German that Australian.

“My name is Stephen Courtney. My wife name’s Mieke and our daughter’s is Brittany. We left London two month

"I had surgery when I was 12 and the scar became infected. Surgeons had to operate again before I died from blood-poisoning.” He repeated for the hundredth time.

“You’ll better have died then. It’d have save me those bruises on my knuckles.” Schmidt rubbed the back of his hands.

He silently asked what he had to do next, glancing at his supervisor who waved his hand in disbelief.

“Get rid of him. He’s useless. He won’t speak today.”

Schmidt drew a devilish smirk on his face and slammed his feet on the edge of the chair where Stefan was tied; the tip of his shoe threatened his crotch.

“We’ll see if he’ll be more eloquent when his pretty woman and baby girl will receive the same treatment.” He bent down to stare deeply into Stefan’s widened eyes.  “We always get what we’re looking for.”

Mieke! Bree! NO!

Before Stefan could utter the slightest word, Schmidt hit him one more time in the face, then pushed the chair backward, knocking it over. Stefan fell on his back, the back of his head crushing hard on the ground.

Knock out.

*

“Stefan!”

He thought he had heard his name in the distance.  Mieke was calling his name. His real name. Her voice sweet and clear in his mind.

Her lips.

He was floating in limbo, church bells echoing in his skull, hurting like hell.

“Stefan!” Her eyes. Her sparkling dark brown eyes.

He slowly opened his eyes, fluttering under the bright lights of the ceiling, adding more flashes and pain under his eyelids. Godammit! His head!

He managed to lift his hand -the one which had not been broken by Anderson’s heel- and pressed it on the side of his head, where some vicious monkey was playing drums.

“Stefan!” The voice was full of hope and relief. Bree. His baby. His doll. Her fatty hands gripping his stubble.

He kept his forearm crossed before his eyes, so he eventually could see something. Or block another punch. The last time he let his brain lure him with some bittersweet memories of his wife and the promise of her hands on him, he had a hard time.

Waiting for his sight to become less blurry, he noticed he was lying on the floor, curled up in a fetal position.

Bree. Her wiggles and giggles when he attacked her belly buton with kisses.

“Daddy!”

He leaned up on his elbow, scanning the room where he had obviously been thrown roughly. His shirt was laying next to him, torn in pieces and covered by -his- blood. That was it. His brain was fucking with him again, spreading salt on his wounds.  Except from having slept for years, there was no chance he could have heard his daughter calling him.

He was losing his mind, alone, the bars of his filthy cell for unique company.

He gathered the pieces of his limbs together and sat down, his arms crossed around his knees, his head between them, rocking back and forth.

Half past bunny time, ‘Possums by the moon;  Tea and bread-and-honey time, Sleep-time soon.

Things that poets pant to see, The beautiful, the true, Are nothing to the phantasy The closed eyes view.

The poem Cora taught him worked so well to have the little girl asleep within the minute, his deep and low voice singing the lullaby again and again, his stare savouring the slightest whimper, sight, suckle of the bun of love sleeping like a stone in the home-made crib, her tiny hands fisted each side of her cutie face.

The song told the truth, he closed his eyes and let his brain roll up the memories of his short, too short happy life.

Noises and ruckus suddenly came from the other side of the door which separated the cells from the offices.

“Let me see him!” A voice loudly barked.

Muffled voices tried to calm down the hysterical screams.

“I won’t calm down until you let me see my husband!” The tone was beyond hysterical and he could hear stationery flying through the room and crushing down the ground. Or the wall.

The door slammed open and Mieke rushed inside.

“Mieke! ”

He jumped to his feet and stumbled to the bars he grabbed for balance. His injured body was screaming out loud but he barely noticed.  Reaching his hands out, he caught both sides of her head and crashed her to his lips. Tears soaked his palms and he couldn’t tell if they were hers or his. Mieke hooked his wrists, still red marked from the cuffs. But nothing mattered. She was there.

She was there.

Pulling back, she roamed her eyes all over his face and upper body, before locking her stare into his.

Never leave me again. Never look anywhere but into my eyes.

“What have they done to you?” Her fingertips running lightly over his bruises and cuts, instantly healing his wounds.

“What have you done to him?” She yelled at the cop standing in the door frame, not bothering to even glance back.

Brushing the pad of his thumb across her swollen lower lip and the purple bruise on her cheek, he whispered, pulling her closer, forehead touching between bars.

“What has he done to you…” Rage ran through his veins and he unwillingly tightened his grip on her neck.

“Mieke how are you? Where’s Bree?” He inquired, praying whatever God who was listening they were safe.

“Cora’s looking after her. She’s fine. She missesyou. I’ve been tracking you for days! Lizzy helped and found out you were thrown in jail yesterday. I’ve moved Heaven and earth to find you…” She swallowed back a sob.  “I thought you were dead. Stefan, I thought I'd lost you.” She buried her face in his bare chest and stopped breathing, preventing from burst into unstoppable tears.

“I didn’t know what to do. ” she hugged him tighter. “What should I do?”

“Mieke” he couldn’t help but kissing her one more time.  “They said I am an alien enemy. They don’t believe in our story. They said they’ll send me to an internment camp, outside Sydney. In Hay or Cowra I don’t know.”

“No!” Her voice broke. She couldn’t holding back her tears and affliction.

“Ma'am, you have to leave now.” The cop behind them anxiously said.

“No!” Stefan gasped, his lungs suddenly empty with air.

He wrapped his wife, the reason he was still alive, the voice which kept him from giving up, melting their bodies together despite the cold bars that crashed his chest.

She cupped his face, sealed her lips on his, terrified to be separated from him again.

“I swear, I swear I’ll do everything I can to have you back home.”

“Ma'am, please, don’t force me to…” the man was losing patience, glancing constantly through the door. Schmidt, or worse, Anderson popping up in the police dept. office will have him without job and likely without life for letting the woman in.

“No!” Stefan yelled at him. “She’s leaving.” The last thing he wanted was his wife mauled before his eyes. NOT again.

“Mieke, please, go.”

“No!” She clung to him desperately.

“Mieke…” He roughly slammed his mouth over hers then pulled back. “Go… Now .”

“NO!” She was drowning in her own tears, gripping his hands.

“Mieke, please…” he forced her intertwined fingers off of his, but she clawed them back.

“Mieke…” he begged her.

The police officer walked behind her back and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back with all the force he could.

“NO! Stephen!” Her cry was heartbreaking, Stefan wished he was dead instead of watching his wife being snatched away from him.

“I’ll never stop! I’ll never stop looking for you!” She struggled to reach out a hand towards him.

“I know” he mouthed, snapping her eyes and face as she was dragged back by the policeman.

Their fingertips touching a last time before the man violently yanked at Mieke’s body, throwing her out of the room.

“I LOVE YOU!” she howled before the door slammed shut.

“I know…” Stefan’s grip loosened around the bars, allowing his blood to finally reach his white knuckles. He slowly crouched down, his head sliding down the bars and sat heavily on the ground.

“I know.” He whispered once more before cracking in tears, his palms crashed on his face as he screamed and cried his soul out.

* Mieke knew exactly what she had to do. Leave no stone unturned, shake every bell she’d find, doing the impossible to have her husband back.

She already lost a husband, she wouldn’t let Bree grow up without her father. And beyond that, he was her love, her husband. Him.

She ran, days and nights, in every place in Sydney and beyond. She talked to every single personStefan met. From the worst suspicious fella who dabbled in the black market, smuggling or Chinese mafia for sure, Stefan met while doing deliveries, to the sexiest whore walking the streets around the docks, where he had his habits hanging out with Marvin. Every single soul. Mobsters offered their help, planning an abduction or whatever could have Stefan out from his jail. Too dangerous, Mieke didn’t want to have him free but dead. Or her family forced to be on the lam forever.

The prostitutes were united as one, saying Stefan was the most respectful and honest man they’d ever met.

“Don’t worry darlin’. He was only here to have a drink or two with Marvin. Marvin had some fun with Marla but your hubby, ma chérie… Gosh he was such a treasure. He chatted with all of us, called each girl by her nickname, listened to our stories. He always treated us like human beings, which is not very common in our job. But he never had a look at one girl anywhere but in the eyes. Never touched or desired anyone of us. It’s a shame, you know… such an handsome man. But Stephen had only one woman in mind, you lucky girl. He’s crazy in love with you, it’s written on his face. You got his heart, and I can easily understand why.” Judith, a Jew who left France when things were turning into shit, told her, wiping the tears from Mieke’s cheeks.

She apologized for not being more helpful, but gave Mieke good tips about Detective Anderson’s bad, filthy habits when he paid them a visit. Enough to ruin his reputation and name for the next decade, and maybe make him think twice before sending Stefan in one of those awful internment camps.

Mieke was beyond exhaustion and anxiety and accepted the shot of whiskey Judith had offered.  She was trying to gather all the pieces she had in her brain but every lead came to a deadlock.

She said no to the bootleggers.  The lawyer Lizzy sent her to, said she had to prove her husband was not a Nazi nor a SS. An average German citizen would have worked, but a Captain from the SS army would be difficult to defend before the Immigration court. She planned to call or send a message to the Kaiser, the only one who knew the truth and whom words could count, if he was still alive. But all the communication means to Europe like Phone calls or telegrams were reserved to the military needs and a message by mail was too risky, the Kaiser would likely never receive her request, or his answer would never arrive to her. She couldn't even consider going back to the Kaiser’s house, she never would put her baby into such a trouble. She -they- left London purposely to bring their daughter away from the war, no way she going back.

Bree. She had entrusted the little girl to Cora for too long, her painful and swollen breast screamed to go back home and breastfeed her baby.

She cut short the soliloquy Judith was into, catching only few words about Marvin being so gentle despite his appearance.

Marvin. He could have been the key, she could have given him the letter before he sailed off to London, and one of her contacts there could sendthe message to the Kaiser. Safely. But he was gone. They had celebrated and said their goodbye two days ago.

Bad timing.

“I’m sorry I have to go. Thanks for your help Judith. And for the drink.” She sadly said, drawing a line at her last hope. That damn war would end at one point and Stefan would be free then. It was just a matter of years.

*

Stefan had spent the last three months to dream.  Dream of his wife, forcing himself to draw the outlines of her face and curves in his head, practically feeling them under his palms. Dream of his baby girl, trying to figure out how she could look like, what she was able to do, what her babbling and her laughs could sound like. Dream of the better days he imagined with Mieke, talking about how much kids they would want, sharing the names they loved, building solid foundations for their family.

Dreaming. There wasn’t much to do in the internment camp they sent him to. And learning foreign languages. The camp was full of Jewish, German, French and Italian prisoners of war.

Barracks accommodated 12 men, his homed 6 Italians, 3 Germans including himself, 2 Frenchies, and one Aborigine.

Stefan spent days reading the few books available in the camp, mainly the Holy Bible and the Torah. He read again and again the French version of Nietzsche’s “Beyond good and evil” his roommateJean gave him.

He talked at length about that disgusting whiff of racism Australia applied to both native or refugees, who weren’t “white enough” for this soil.  He couldn’t stand those ‘white supremacy’ theories which reminded him the Führer’s so bad. Why, by all the Gods, why human beings couldn’t be considered as such? They all had one heart, two arms and two legs, coloured skins or religions didn’t make any difference for him.

Tjupurrurla, an Australian native which skin was black as coal, told him how white people stole the land of his ancestors, banishing them from their own ground. He told him about the British settlers raping native women to father bastards, mixing white and black blood to get rid of the black part. He told him how they forced those children in re-education camps, to teach them the right way to be a good citizen, ignorant of their own mothers, languages and traditional cultures. Tjupurrurla ended up in this camp for having hidden the children of his two sisters, both raped by white landowners. His sisters were killed, their children sent to the camps. He has never heard from them since.

Stefan found somewhat funny that primal fear of the British colonists to be stolen the land they first stole.

Heinrich Spielman, a German citizen opponent to the Nazi regime, tried his luck in Australia, after all his family and Jewish friends were killed, himself threatened to be sent in a concentration camp. The spelling test all the immigrants have to pass wasn’t supposed to be a problem, he spoke fluently 5 languages, including English. But that sneaky Australians didn’t want him and the spelling was done in a lost gaelic scottish language. He failed and was sent to this camp.

Damn, Australia was not that fair…

Stefan avoided talking about his story, not knowing if he could trust those guys. Last time he confessed his real identity, he had to pay for it.

He didn’t talk about him but he couldn’t stop talking about Mieke and Bree. His beloved family. It hurt so much but helped to keep his feet on the ground and hope. Turning mad was easy here and he witnessed several desperate men make attempt to their own lives.

He held onto a small note Mieke managed to send him. The police officer in charge with his relocation to the internment camp was a regular user of Judith and the girl’s services and was promised the moon if he passed the envelope on to him. Which he happily agreed, ignoring the consequences if he was caught. Mieke joined a picture with the note. One Cora took while their Sunday walk, he loved have a stop on the Harbour Bridge and stare endlessly to the Parramatta river. They decided to take a picture each Sunday, so they could see how Bree would change weeks after weeks. No wonder why the pic looked so old,  Stefan stared at it hours a day, stroking the fragile paper, when not hiding it right on his chest, where his heart beated. The note said Mieke had a plan and ordered him to keep hope and wait. Which he did.

He imagined Mieke, all day long, and guessed what she was doing,  taking care for Bree, likely finding a job as a teacher or translator for foreigners. He wanted her to move in with Cora, he couldn’t stand to know her alone.

She would send letters he would never receive, he wrote letters he could never send.

Until that day of May,  a Thursday when he received one.

“Courtney!” The guardian called roughly. “It’s time.”

Stefan grabbed his bag. Nothing he really cared but a pic of Mieke holding Bree, both wrapped in his arms, the letters he wrote to her, and the one he recently had received. The ultimate mail that explained everything. And had him freed today.

“Marla will be so sad once Marvin is gone.” Mieke startled. Judith was French, but she knew the tenses. “He left a couple of days ago, doesn’t he?” She inquired. “Darlin’, the boat is been docking for two days now. Something went wrong with the engine, but they finally fixed it. Marvin is upstairs right now, thrusting his goodbye deep inside Marla!” Judith laughed. A split second later, she rushed in Marla’s room, roughly interrupting their 'goodbye’ but there was not a second to be lost. Marvin offered to stay and help in whatever way hecould but Mieke had all planned. She needed him on board and keep the captain and his staff  off the docks. And waited.

Waited for weeks for the ship to travel back to London. Waited for months the precious letter came from the Kaiser, who was still confined in the house with his wife.

Kaiser Wilhem read the handwritten letter, showed Hermine the pic of the family which was blessed with happiness then, and finally told his wife the truth he had kept secret since, even to her. The letter the Kaiser wrote wore his recognizable German’s style handwriting along with his wax seal.  All he clearly explained clearing Stefan Brandt’s name. Their friendship, how he protected and saved Mieke, despite he knew she was Jewish and a spy for the English crown. How Stefan disobeyed direct orders he received from Heinrich Himmler himself. How he shot SS officers to escape the house, saving his life, jeopardizing his plan to drive him to hospital. How he hated the Nazi’s theory and what the Führer planned for his own people. How loyal and fiercely patriotic Stefan was to his country, until he realized his country was wrong and mad. How himself was convinced Stefan would be the best citizen Australia could ever dream of, ready to fight if the cause was fair.

The mail traveled to Australia by air,  safe in an English military aircraft. A frightened-to-fly Marvin in charge with delivering the precious letter personally to Mieke. The Kaiser made sure it arrived as soon as possible, proud to show he had still some power.

It didn’t last long before Mieke and their lawyer had this clue registered before the Immigration court, which ruled in favour of Stefan Brandt. They also blamed head detective Anderson for his obviously non authorized methods and his deviant lifestyle. Judith insisted to testify in court.

The judge stomped his hammer and stamped the release notice for citizen Stephen Courtney, the only one condition the judge imposed was to keep this name, and ordered Mieke to keep all this waste secret, to save Australia’s Immigration department’s face from shame.

And this was it. The moment he was waiting for so long.

His sight was blurry as he walked, like through a dark channel, Mieke was waiting for him at the other side, wrapped in the warm sunlight. He barely realized he was outside, free, nothing really mattered but his wife and daughter, waving at him only few steps ahead.

He stopped in front of Mieke, marveling at her perfect radiating face, glanced only once at Bree, babbling in her arm. He dropped his bag and hugged the loves of his life, so tight he couldn’t breathe nor speak.  He nuzzled his face in the crook of Mieke’s neck and cried. He just cried. Without restraint nor shame. He cried his eyes out, clung to his wife, his strong and brave heroin. His little soldier. He cried like he never had cried before, enough tears to competewith the Parramatta flows, enough to cover Victoria desert in water. He cried the three months of his daughter’s life he would never make up. He cried the time lost with his family, the unfairness of his fate. He cried the tears his wife had cried before him.

Mieke just rocked him, she would have rocked him for eternity if he had needed. After tears came more tears, then the flood dried up.  She cupped his soaked face and gently wiped his cheeks with her palms.

“Let’s go home.” She whispered.  She was not crying. She was just wearing the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. 

Final chapter coming soon😉

@tigpooh67 @kenzieam @frecklefaceb @oddsnendsfanfics @badassbaker @bookwarm85 @societalfailure @jaihardy @jaicourtneyseyes @captstefanbrandt @pathybo @beautifulramblingbrains @beltz2016 @red-diary @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @singingpeople @ashtotes @murmelinchen @anditcametopass @pernilleals @writingismyhappytime @sporadichologramblizzard-ed17414

[batgirlii]

The Ultimate Betrayal

I do not own Star Trek or any characters mentioned in this fanfiction.

This is my first fanfiction ever so it has issues in terms of pacing and narration. But I worked really hard on this, so I hope you all enjoy it. This is part of my magneto!Lal au.

The past 2 hours kept running through Lals head;Captain Picard, her father, Admiral Haftel. Admiral Haftel. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t block out his yammering. She wished he would just stop, stop trying to justify himself ripping Lal away from her father, stop trying to tell her that it'll be okay, because it wasn't okay. Nothing was ever going to be okay again.

"Y'know Lal i think you're really going to like Starfleet Research" Haftel remarked. "There's all sorts of scientists there who can really help you reach your full potential." "The only one qualified to guide me into sentience is my father" Lal stated rather bluntly. Haftel looked slightly agitated, "yes, yes i know you think that, but your father's only one Man. There'll be dozens of qualified engineers there to, uhm, "guide you" " Lal didn't answer, she just stared blankly at haftel then turned to face the window.

Once they arrived at the research center, Lal was immediately bombarded with tests and questions of all sorts. Once that was through they showed her to her new quarters and………..

it looked like a prison cell. Not that Lal really knew what a prison cell looked like, but  this was close to what she imagined one might look like. It was small and bare with very little commodities within it. "I'll be back in few hours to check on you!" Said the cheerful doctor named Liziqal, before shutting Lal in the room. She heard a small beeping sound afterwards, Lal knew she had just been locked in.

Unable to do anything about her current situation, Lal went and sat in a chair in the corner of the room. From this angle she could see the entire room and everything in it. She thought back to her home, on the Enterprise. How big it was in comparison to this prison cell they call quarters. She thought about her father's paintings and his work station she so often saw him at, and how their cat, Spot always slept on it when her father was working. Lal thought about her father and.....no....she couldn't.....she didn't want to think about him. But why not? What was this sensation inflicting her every time she thought about him.

Could it be...... a feeling? She knew it was possible for androids to have emotions, her uncle, Lore had them and functioned relatively normally. But if it was a feeling,what feeling was it? She thought about it for a moment, "the sensation is effecting me negatively so it must be a negative emotion." Lal said quietly to herself. She knew the names of many negative emotions and tried to think of the one that would apply best to her situation. Perhaps it is a mixture of anger and sadness, she thought to herself. Or maybe something more abstract, like Homesickness? Lal pondered. "It might be all three" Lal mumbled. She remembered Troi talking to her about how organic beings could feel a great number of emotions all at once. It's probably the same for androids, she deduced.

A number of hours later the same cheery doctor returned with two security officers to retrieve Lal from her room. She motioned for Lal to follow and she complied. After a long walk through 8 separate corridors they found themselves in some sort of lab, but Lal was unsure of its purpose. "Alrighty just sit down on that examination table and we'll get started!" the doctor said. Lal sat down and the woman approached. "Just be sure to sit still, okay sugar? Wouldn't want to mess this up.” Doctor Liziqal remarked as she was reaching towards Lal. "What are y- ou doing?" Lal questioned. But something was wrong she knew she was not laying down when she started the sentence. yet there she was lying on the table. She noticed the doctor putting away tools and talking with other scientists. "Excuse me, but I have no recollection of how I got into this position. May I ask what has happened?" Lal said. "Oh it's nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart" an older man replied. "We were just doing a quick examination of your positronic brain, to make sure all those circuits were functioning properly!"

Lal felt something deep inside her body, something trying to crawl its way out of her stomach and up her throat. What was this thing taking hold of her? "You had no right to do that." Lal snarled. "Honey, relax. We didn't make any changes we jus-" "It doesn't matter. You violated my autonomy and as a citizen of the Federation I have every legal right to hold you accountable." Lal was on the verge of shouting and she could see the security officers by the door getting visibly nervous. "Now, now, there's no need for that kind of talk.” Doctor Liziqal cooed. "You've just had a very rough day i think it's time you returned to you quarters for the night." "You're not listening!" Lal screamed. "I-" "LAL" the doctor shouted. "I do not want to force you, but I will if you make me." Lal noticed the security guards had their hands on their phasers. Not wanting to get shot, she silently nodded and was brought back to her room.

Once the door was shut and locked and Lal was all alone. She felt a sudden surge of emotion that manifested as tears in her eyes, her legs gave out beneath her and lal curled up on the floor, sobbing her eyes out. Wishing she was anywhere but here.

The next few months were a series of tests, examinations, and questions. Her room which once felt like a prison cell became a sanctuary because it was the only place where she felt she could think without someone asking, “What're you thinkin’ about Lal”. Like it was their right to know.

Lal had just finished an examination of her cortical processors and had returned to her room. She sat in the corner chair and rested. Even though she did not require rest, Lal thought it felt good to not do anything, to just sit and think. Although all her thoughts eventually returned to the Enterprise and her father. She wondered what mission the Enterprise was assigned to. Were they investigating an unidentifiable signal coming from uncharted space, were they hosting negotiations for two planets at war, or maybe they were fighting the Borg? Lal liked to imagine what her father's role in these adventures would be, perhaps he would be the conduit for an unknown alien to make contact with the Enterprise crew, or maybe he would be the hero and find whoever was responsible for orchestrating the interstellar war in the first place.

But Lal also wondered why her father would do all those things in the first place. Why would he put his life on the line for an organization that barely sees him as a person? He had to fight in court for basic rights, shouldn't he have already had those in the first place? Lal thought. They clearly didn’t see her as an individual considering they put her in this facility against her wishes. They treated Lal like some sort of lab animal, something to be tested on and tested on until it can't take anymore and dies. If she really was the lab animal then they wouldn’t care when Lal died. It'll all be worth it because they would've gotten the information they needed. The thought terrified her. What would they do with that information? Would they make another android? She thought about this for about a minute and came to the conclusion that no; they wouldn't do it. After all, her father trusted these people with his well being, surely they wouldn't do anything so cruel as to let her die only to build their own android. Right?

Weeks past. The tests continued. But right now she was on her way to a counselling session. The sessions she had with Dr.Kledves were the only activities in the facility that didn't make her feel completely miserable. Not that Dr.Kledves understood her plight or anything, she hadn't told any of the staff what was really on her mind since after her first day in the facility. It was because Kledves helped her understand what emotions felt like and how to identify which emotions she was feeling.

Lal arrived in Dr. Kledves' office and took a seat. "How are you feeling today Lal?" Kledves asked. "I'm feeling well." Lal lied. "Really? hmm" Kledves mumbled. "Is there something wrong?" Lal questioned. "No, well I mean, that's what you say in just about half of all our sessions." Kledves replied. “I feel well most days" Lal lied again. Lal saw his face darken and his eyes become cold. "Tell me Lal,” he said blankly, looking straight into her eyes. “Since we have started these sessions have you ever once told me the truth?"

Lal attempted to remain composed, but her mind was instantly racked with anxiety. Had he figured out her suspicions about Starfleet? How was that possible, she had never told anyone? "Lal, we only want to help you." Did they? "We can't help you if you don't tell us what's on your mind." Would they deactivate her for knowing too much? "Lal, answer me" She couldn't, she couldn't say anything. If he knew when she was lying, then she most certainly couldn't answer him truthfully. What if her father had misplaced his trust in this organization? What if she was right about them? "I'm disappointed in you Lal." Kledves remarked as he shook his head. "Security, please escort Lal back to her quarters." Lal went silently.

Back in her room Lals thoughts were racing a million miles an hour. Could her father have really been wrong? He was so intelligent and had years of experience most of which was in Starfleet. Could he have really misjudged the Federation? This was getting to be too much for Lal, she had to organize her thoughts. Lal sat in the corner chair and tried to calm down. She knew her paranoia was only going to fester if she didn't get answers to her questions. Why was she really here? Why the continuous tests and examinations? What are they hiding? Lal sighed. If they were hiding anything at all. But this wasn't the time for doubt, doubt would only cloud her mind and make her vulnerable.

So Lal hatched a plan. The next time her door opened it would be Layaria and misar, the security officers coming to take her to her next evaluation. It takes an estimated time of 7 minutes to reach this particular testing area. Once the security officers came to retrieve her she would incapacitate them and lock them in her quarters. Since she would only have seven minutes Lal would use the Jefferys tubes to navigate her way to the main computer core. Once there she should be able to access information concerning herself and all other relevant data.

Lal waited what felt like days for her door to slide open. Until, finally it did. She jumped when the two security officers walked into her room. "Miss Lal it's time for your strength and endurance evaluation." "Yes, I am aware." Lal replied walking towards them. But before the officers knew what hit them, Lal had smashed their skulls together, knocking them out. Locking them in her room Lal raced down the corridor to the nearest Jefferies tube. Crawling her way down 5 decks and through many twists and turns, until she finally reached the computer core.

Using Haftels voice print she unlocked the computer's interface and was able to access any file she wanted within the database. Lal searched and searched until she found what she was looking for, her file. Opening it and reading she realized they had been collecting her design specifications, "personal information" from her counseling sessions and........and........."NO!" Lal growled. Starfleet was in fact making plans to create a new Android. Lal was shocked, she was livid.

Humans were......revolting. She couldn't believe she had ever trusted them. She couldn't believe she had ever went along with this. She should have shot Haftel with a phaser set on kill the moment he set foot on the Enterprise. She was a living being. She didn't deserve this type of treatment, the federation didn't even treat prisoners like they had treated Lal. More than that, how could they betray her father's trust like this. Her father put his existence on the line every day for the Federation, and how do they repay him? By using his daughter as a lab rat. No android would ever do something so cruel. Why were biological organisms like this? If they had just asked, her father would have helped them create their own android. There was no excuse for what they had done to Lal. The only reason the Federation did this to her was because…...they enjoyed it. A shiver went down Lals spine. She couldn't let them get away with this. She would not let another android suffer like how she had. Lal quickly deleted all research the facility had collected on her and the plans for the new android.

"Kritali to Opps, the android has escaped! I repeat the android has escaped!" Lal looked down the hallway only to see a slightly frightened security officer. "C-c'mon miss Lal, w-why don't we just go back to your quarters okay?? She sounded like she was trying to calm down a wild animal. Lal heard shouting a couple of corridors away, there would be more security arriving soon. Lals eyes hardened as she looked at the now trembling ensign. Kritali attempted to grab her phaser but Lal was too quick. Punching her in the face Lal took her phaser and aimed it at Kritali. "Take me to the nearest shuttle bay" Lal said with cold expression. "Yes m-ma'am." Kritali responded fearfully.

They rushed down hallway after hallway until they eventually reached a shuttle bay. "Here it is." The young ensign whimpered as she unlocked it. "Thank you" Lal said rather plainly before slamming Kritalis’ head into a wall. Lal knew the basics of flying a shuttle but nothing as complex as dodging a tractor beam or torpedo fire. It was certainly going to be a learning experience. She launched the thrusters and attempted to phaser the doors opened. "That isn't going to work." A voice said over a subspace channel. Wait....Lal knew that voice it was........Haftel. The man who had caused her so much misery in the first place. "The shuttles won't open fire if you're in the shuttle bay. You can't escape, why don't you-" Lal hit warp nine instantly. Damaging her own ship but completely tearing apart the research facility. "Idiot." Lal smirked as she flew far away from her now dead captors and the prison that had held her for far too long.

It took a couple of weeks but Lal finally located the Enterprise. They were on shore leave so it was the opportune moment for Lal to confront her father. Lal located her father's signature and beamed him aboard her ship. Confused for a moment, he turned to see Lal who was absolutely beaming with joy. "Father, I have missed you so much! The federation was only using me  to make their own android, we have to leave, we have-" "Lal, what have you done" Data interrupted. "I-what? Father, it does not matter what I have done, what the Federation was planning to do with me was much worse! Please, come with me, we can leave the Federation, go somewhere far away, where no one will ever find us." "Lal, you are a wanted fugitive. I made an oath when I became a Starfleet officer to uphold the values of the Federation. I must place you under arrest." Data said bluntly. "W-what" Lal replied as she took a step back. "They were using me as their lab rat, they betrayed you, they betrayed those values you swore to uphold!" "You may be correct Lal, but so did you." Lal felt something snap inside. "You.....you're just like them. You..... YOU DON'T CARE!” Lal screamed. "YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ME! IF YOU DID YOU WOULDN'T HAVE LET HAFTEL TAKE ME! IF YOU DID YOU WOULDN'T HAVE LEFT ME TO ROT,WHILE MY CAPTORS ABUSED ME. IF YOU DID YOU WOULDN’T BE DEFENDING THEM!” 

Lal was breathing heavily. "You...You betrayed me, father." Lal started to weep. "Lal, please listen-" "No." she replied "you've said enough." Lal beamed Data off the shuttle and sat at the seat behind the helm.

Looking out at the stars with tears in her eyes and feeling nothing but a cold rage. Lal swore that the Federation would pay for their actions not only against her but for all species they oppressed and undermined at every turn. So with a new state of mind and a new purpose, Lal warped away, not once looking back.

[thetowerupright]

this is absolute word vomit. sorry in advance.

i started a new med and my psychiatrist said to take it in the morning bc it wont make me as drowsy as the last anxiety med, but when picking up my med the pharmacist said I absolutely need to take it at night bc i’ll get extremely drowsy. i decided to take it bc i had a horrible panic attack at walgreens so it would help me sleep. so i took it at midnight and laid in bed until 2:45 just not being able to sleep :) sooo i guess the med fought against my actual sleep med and now im wide awake :)) ANYWAYS these are all of my thoughts since midnight

1. i had to delete my twitter app bc i like going on there at night and signing petitions bc there’s so many resources for them on twitter. however so many people are coming out about being raped or molested which is good bc i want people to tell their stories but holy shit it is so triggering. just seeing stories and details like i go on and i have to log off a short time later bc im so triggered. it sucks because i want to be there for people but i cant do that if im triggered ya kno?

2. i have always loved amy winehouse for so many reasons but when i sing one of her songs it’s the only time i feel confident in my singing. she was just such a gem and it makes me so sad to know i’ll never be able to see her live. i’ll go a couple months without listening to her and then a song will come on shuffle and she’s all i listen to for the next 24 hours i love her so much

3. going back to singing, god damn. i miss that shit. i miss performing and being on stage and singing and dancing and acting. i posted a video of me singing on tik tok and i keep almost deleting it because i sound so terrible. i am so terribly out of practice. the other day i found like the tap dance side of tik tok and i almost bought myself some tap shoes and a floor set so i could start tap again. i still remember so much lol but like my singing im so out of practice. bc of my rapist and shitty people in high school i feel like i sound so fucking terrible and have so much anxiety singing infront of people. it sucks i just wanna work on the fear

4. i heard recently that people with anxiety will tend to watch the same tv and movies over and over and over again bc their brain already knows how it ends, and i felt so snatched!!! i restarted the office last week, soooo this is my 13th time watching it. ive watched 5 seasons in like 9 days. and when i finish it (which will probably be in the next couple days) ya kno what im gonna do? PLAY SEASON ONE EPISODE ONE lmfao the office is my tv show weighted blanket

5. i realized that since deleting my instagram soooo much tension has left me. like not just in my body but my soul as well. that shit is just so extremely toxic. im glad i deleted my account and dont have the pressures in my life to please people on social media. i did get a little annoyed tho bc people kept messaging me wanting an explanation and i dont owe anyone shit! however it was fucking hysterical when i put out 24 hours before deleting it that i was leaving and all the men actively in my dms were messaging me all upset like HONEY you’ll be FINE go masturbate to someone else GOOD BYE

6. my savage x fenty package was suppose to be here monday and still isnt here :) so im in nashville and it went from indianapolis, to memphis, to louisville, and is supposedly in nashville as of tonight. like they went south and passed me, then was in the SAME STATE, went NORTH OF ME, and now it’s here. it was also shipped by fedex and i haaate fedex because similar shit like this ALLLLLWAYS happens!! honestly im only frustrated bc im so use to my amazon packages being at my house 4-48 hours later. i say 4 hours bc last month i order something at 4am and it was delivered to my house at 8am that day lol

7. i saw a tik tok about rape that said hey guess what every 7 years you have new cells so in 7 years you’ll have a body that was never touched by your rapist. im happy bc nov 11 will be 7 years since the start of everything so those cells will be gone. but he raped me in february so that’ll be another 7 years for new cells. it’s nice to know i’ll have new cells one day that arent touched by him, but as i sit here typing this i can still feel where he first touched me in nov 2013 and i wish i could burn all my skin off

8. in the last 2 days i have eaten....3 bites of a grilled cheese. :)) like ive gone to eat and just the smell of food makes me so sick. i wish i could go back to my attempt in april and be like “hey frankie yeah uhhhhh dont do this...for obvious reasons ofc but also bc you literally will not eat food for months!!!” i cant tell you how many times ive gotten food i love and taken a bite and it’s soooo gooood and then after two or three more bites my body is like “NOOOOOPE ABORT MISSION”

9. it’s almost a year since rileys death. i’m trying to keep myself distracted as best i can. it’s hard though. i miss them so much. i feel so empty sometimes without them physically being in my life anymore. a year has passed and i still find myself picking up my phone to talk to them. ive gone through this pain before and i know it gets better it truly does. but right now it’s hard and painful and absolutely heartbreaking and soul shattering. i hope whatever happens after death, riley is okay. theyre happy and free and their soul is more alive than it was on earth.

10. i felt suicidal today and for a moment yesterday for the first time in awhiiiile. not actively or wanting to do harm to myself, but just not wanting to live anymore. when i talked to my resident about it today and how i was dealing with it, he said i was doing a really really good job. and that he was proud of me. i didnt cry then but when he went to get the psychiatrist that was subbing in for mine, i did cry a little. i wish i heard more that people were proud of me. i’ll appreciate that from anyone, but i fucking wish my family would tell me that. they never really have, going all the way into childhood to now. idk i just feel like nobody is proud but im trying so fucking hard.

11. the sun is rising and it’s so pretty outside. despite everything, this week is going well. it’s not like fantastic or anything, but i feel a little more lively this week than the past several weeks. a few weeks ago i looked at myself in the mirror and started sobbing. not just because i hate how i look and my body. but because i saw no light or life in my eyes. i took a selfie a couple days ago, and i saw a little light and life again. im not gonna say things are better, but things are very very slowly improving. just gotta do the next right thing. ttyl :)