#local guy gets sick by sitting at their desk

[pawnguild]

save me liquid iv save me

[yanderexchubbyreader]

can u write a yandere popular boy in school and he’s in love with chubby s/o (or y/n wtv u wanna call her 😅) and he’s angry that she doesnt like him back and sometimes threatens her to date him. She actually does like him back but doesnt show it becus she thinks that he is playing a joke on her

i hope i kinda got what you were looking for! if not, please feel free to let me know!

——

Pairing: yandere!popular!boy x chubby!reader

yan’s name is Matthew

warnings: obsessive behaviour, implied drugging, isolating yandere

~~~

- Matthew was such a peculiar character

- Ever since you had met him in your freshman year of college, he seemed to swarm to you like a moth to the sun, easily becoming someone you cane into contact with in your daily life

- Of course, you were weary about him and getting to know him seeing as he was world’s different from you

- He was extremely popular, with many friends and admirers who would drop anything and bend to his every whim if he so much as asked, as well as extremely fit and the star of the soccer team

- And you were just some chubby little nobody, tending to stick to yourself and your tiny friend group and avoiding large crowds of people like the plague

- So when he first came around, you were incredibly wary that it was put on as some kind of prank, not being able to see why this guy was so interested in being in your presence

- You did have to admit he was cute, but you had to preserve your pride, and you did little more than greet him with an uninterested nod and a small

- One day, he surprised you, showing up to your desk with a box of chocolates, a large bouquet of roses and a stuffed animal, asking for you to go out with him

- And you denied his offer, hiding your face from the rest of the class as he begged you to tell him why

- You had to drag him out of the class and explain to him that you were just too different, he deserved someone better, and you just weren’t interested in him

- That just made him really mad :( And he wouldn’t stop tailing you or your peers trying to get you to go on a date with him, sometimes going a little too far in his efforts

- It got so bad that your friends seemed to turn away everytime you tried speaking with them, brushing you off completely

- And when asked why, it was because they were sick of being threatened and singled out for keeping you away from Matthew

- Finally, you were sick of the obsessive behavior, and showed up at his dorm room one day to give him a piece of your mind

- Of course, he let you in with no hesitation, expecting you to finally accept his offer and give him a few hours of your time

- Instead, you let him know that he was making you uncomfortable, and you wanted him to leave you and your friends alone from here on out, vowing that if he didn’t stop, you were going to take some more drastic measures

- Surprisingly, he never lost the smile he had on his face when you arrived, but his eyes held a completely different emotion

- He’d accept your denial once and for all, apologizing for coming on too strong and promising he would never bother you again

- Satisfied with his answer, you left his dorm, finally happy to wash your hands of him and his strange behavior

- Matthew, however, would completely flipped as you walked away, going into a state of mania and completely destroying his dorm room in a fit of rage

- Sitting amongst the mess, he’d pull out his phone, dialing the number of a local dealer with shaky fingers

- “Hey… you still got those sleeping pills? I’m uh… I’m having trouble sleeping at night”

- He’d get his hands on you somehow. He’d have you in his arms soon, concious or unconcious

[ichorai]

ties that bind ; nanami kento ; october 26th.

pairing ; nanami kento x reader

drabble synopsis ; nanami shows up to work smelling like you, and gojo has quite a keen sense of smell.

themes ; fluff, slice of life, established relationship (married)

warnings / includes ; more domestic vibes, nanami's Tired guys someone give him a vacation

series masterlist.

26th october, 2016

Nanami was having a long morning. Granted, the clock hadn’t even hit 9 AM yet, but he was already feeling particularly exhausted. 

Possible reasons included, but were not limited to: the local bakery he usually went to for breakfast was out of his favorite kind of almond croissants, the vending machine that held his precious coffee outside of the school was out of order, forcing him to go forgo caffeine for the day, Principal Yaga informed him of an influx of village curses he needed to take care of since the school was currently short-handed on staff, and, finally, Gojo would just not stop pestering him. 

The lanky, white-haired colleague of Nanami’s started off by sending roughly a dozen memes about a trendy topic he really had no interest in whatsoever. Then, when Gojo realized that Nanami had muted his messages when he no longer kept responding with: “Stop sending me these during work hours”, he took it upon himself to barge into his office and languidly splay himself across the couch situated opposite his desk and chair. 

Perhaps the only saving grace of this morning, Nanami recalled, was waking up next to you—a sight he’d been blessed with for over a year now. You were still asleep when his alarm buzzed, though you mumbled something groggy and unintelligible under your breath. Knowing that you had a tiring day yesterday, your husband let you sleep for another five minutes while he slipped out from beneath the comforters to wash up. When he returned, you had curled up on his side of the bed, nose smothered into his pillow to inhale his scent. Nanami’s hand reached out to brush stray hairs away from your face, still slackened with sleepiness, but your eyes were cracked open into narrow slits.

“Hey, honey,” he whispered, voice soft as ever. “We’ve got work soon. Do you want me to drop you off?”

You worked at a local university quite close to home. Though curses weren’t particularly attracted to you, what with your easy-going and admiringly-positive demeanor, where you worked was a breeding ground for negative emotions. Stressed students and impatient professors always had universities crawling with curses of all sorts. Nanami never liked the idea of you working in such an environment.

“I think I’ll call in sick today,” you mumbled back, pushing yourself to sit up against the headboard with a lethargic wince. “I have a terrible headache… I think I might be coming down with a cold. I’ve just got to reschedule today’s lecture with the students for another day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, brows kinking with worry as he moved to sit down next to you. “Do you need me to pick up anything for you from the pharmacy?”

“I’ll be okay,” you told him in a reassuring manner. A bright, but tired smile made its way onto your face when the back of his hand rested over your forehead to feel your temperature. He frowned in concern and pulled away—you were much warmer than usual. 

Then, he dipped forward to press a chaste, but loving kiss right over your temple. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll make you some tea.”

“You should be getting to work, Kento—”

He made a dismissive noise, and got up to go fix you the warm drink, squeezing in some honey and lemon in case you had a sore throat, too. A few minutes later, he came back with the steaming mug, and a pack of unopened paracetamol he fetched from the kitchen drawers. 

“Take one now, and another by lunchtime if you’re still feeling unwell,” he told you, his sharp features displaying nothing but raw concern. 

“Yes, doc,” you said with a slight laugh and a salute. “I’ll be okay, honey, really. It’s just a little cold, but thank you for the tea. Now you go and get ready for work.”

Kento pursed his lips, kissed your head again, and rose from your side to go change into his professional attire. Even after all this time, he could feel a warm flush settling over his cheeks when you whistled in appreciation from the bed, clutching the mug of tea in between your palms with a grin. 

“You look so handsome, Kento.” 

“It’s the same thing I always wear.”

“My point stands,” you said, voice rife with mirth. He shot you a soft, appreciative smile.

In his haste to get ready and rush off to work, he accidentally spritzed himself with your perfume rather than his usual cologne. He didn’t mind all that much, anyway, because that meant he’d be able to smell you all day long, and hurried to gather the rest of his things. 

“I love you, please send me a message if you need anything,” he said just as he was about to leave, thumb brushing just beneath your jaw. 

“I will,” you reassured, one hand lifting away from the mug to take hold of his palm and tug the appendage upwards so you could kiss the inside of his wrist, right over his pulse. “Have a good day at work, hon.”

God, he loved you more than anything. 

Now, with Nanami’s mind both burdened with thoughts of you being sick, and stressed over the new wave of village curses Yaga asked him to take care of, he hadn’t even noticed Gojo suddenly right at his side rather than ridiculously spreading out over the office’s couch.

“Ooh, Nanamin,” he said the fond nickname in a crude, high-pitched tone, and over-exaggerated sniffing at Nanami’s suit, “Who is this I’m smelling on you? Are you seeing someone behind my back?”

Nanami’s left eye twitched behind his spectacles. It was a relatively easy choice he made not to tell anyone at work about you. He very much preferred to keep work and personal life separate. 

“It’s my new perfume,” Nanami bluntly said, expression remaining unamused. 

“I didn’t take you for a floral-note kind of man,” Gojo crooned in response with a roguish grin. If he thought that Nanami was lying at all, he betrayed no signs of such. “I love it! What brand is it? Where’d you get it?”

“Get out of my office, Gojo.”

The blind-folded man snickered and rubbed his hands together. Nanami’s evident irritation only seemed to egg him on. “Didn’t Yaga tell you? I’m coming with you today! Apparently there’s been reports of a special-grade curse there. You’re going to need my help, you know.” Gojo prodded at Nanami’s biceps.

Nanami’s lips pinched tightly. “Perfect,” he gritted out. 

It was only nine in the morning, but he already couldn’t wait to get back home to you.

[aaronhotchnersworld]

in sickness and in health

Aaron hotchner x bau wife reader

summary- y/n is sick and Aaron takes care of her

���—

It was about 11pm and you guys had just finished up a case and were now back at the BAU, thankfully the case was local.

It had been extremely exhausting and the pounding in your head continues to grow along with the tiredness you feel.

You all had some paperwork to finish, Aaron having the most, as always.

You cringe at the paperwork in front of you, wondering if the words on the paper are even going to make sense considering the pounding in your head.

“y/n, just go home. You’re obviously fatigued, running a fever, and you just don’t look well,” Spencer tells you.

“do I seriously look that bad,” you question.

“you just look sick, that’s all.”

You tell him, once again, that you don’t need to go home and he drops it.

For someone as smart as him, you wish he would get the hint that you don’t want Aaron to find out you feel unwell.

Emily walks over to you with a sympathetic look and hands you a bottle of water which you immediately take while thanking her.

“he’s right y/n. it’s clear you don’t feel well,” she tells you before going back to her desk to do her paperwork.

You sigh and prop yourself up in your chair.

As you look around, everyone is focused on there paperwork, you look up to Aarons office, debating on going up there, but the blinds are closed and you figure he has too much paperwork.

You don’t want him to worry about you.

You open up the first folder and the words all look like a blur and your head begins to spin. You close the folder and lay your head on your desk.

“y/n.” You don’t even have to lift your head to know it belonged to Aaron, your husband. You slowly lift your head, the bright lights hurting.

You see Aaron kneeling down next to you, his hand on your back and a concerned look on his face.

“let’s go home y/n/n,” he says as he puts the back of his hand on your forehead.

“i’m fine,” you tell him.

“you’re burning up honey, let’s go,” he tells you as he helps you up. You realize you two are the only ones here.

“where’s everyone else,” you question, extremely confused.

“I told everyone to go home, take the day off tomorrow and that i’d see them all on monday. You were sleeping,” he says softly.

“I feel asleep,” you question disoriented.

“yes honey you fell asleep,” he tells you as you both walk towards the elavator, his hand resting on your back to support you.

You rest your head on his shoulder as you wait for the elevator. Aaron kisses your head.

You both walk into the elevator as the doors open and exit once you get to the ground floor. He opens the passenger side door for you and then closes it once your in.

He walks over to his side and gets in. He pulls out of the parking lot and begins driving home. It’s about a 15 minute drive home.

You really don’t feel good.

As soon as he pulls into the driveway and parks the car, you both get out and walk to the front door. He unlocks it and you both walk in.

Jessica had taken Jack to a sleepover so he won’t be home until tomorrow.

“let’s get you to bed honey,” he says softly as you make your way to the bedroom.

You immediately sit on the bed while Aaron begins grabbing some clothes for him and you.

He grabs himself a pair of grey sweatpants and a black shirt while he grabs you a pair of your pajama shorts and one of his shirts.

You both change.

The pounding in your head seems to be getting worse and Aaron quickly notices and grabs you some medicine.

You both going into the bathroom connecting to your bedroom and brush your teeth, going straight to bed after.

You hoped you would be able to fall asleep quick since you’re exhausted, but the pounding in your head made it nearly impossible.

Your head is resting on aaron’s chest and he begins rubbing your back, knowing it’ll put you to sleep. “close your eyes, you’ll feel better in the morning honey,” he whispers.

You eventually fall asleep but are woken up at the early hour of 2am, nausea taking over you.

You practically jump out of bed and sprint to the bathroom, barely making it before collapsing onto your knees as you start throwing up in the toilet.

You feel Aaron pull your hair back and rub your back. “it’s okay you’re okay,” he tells you.

“aar-” you try to say are but cut off as you continue to throw up.

“it’s okay I gotcha,” he says in a soft tone.

After you finish throwing up, he grabs a washcloth, wets in with cold water and holds it against the back of your neck while you lean against him.

“i’m sorry Aaron I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you whisper to him.

“honey don’t apologize, I want to take care of you when your sick. I love you,” he says softly, as he grabs a hair tie and pulls your hair up.

“I love you too.”

“do you think you’re ready to go back to bed,” he quietly asks you.

You start to feel the nausea coming back and you immediately shake your head no as you put your head back over the toilet, throwing up again.

Aaron continues to rub your back and reassure you that you’ll be okay.

“aaron,” you whine.

“I know y/n i’m sorry,” he says softly.

You lean back onto his chest as you finish throwing up. He kisses your head and puts the washcloth back onto the back on your neck.

“i’m gonna go get you some water, okay?” he asks you. You just nod.

He comes back not even a minute later with a glass of water. “rinse your mouth out honey.” He lifts the glass up to your lips, allowing you to get the water in your mouth.

Everything hurts.

“let’s get you back to bed honey,” aaron tells you. He picks you up gently and take you over to the bed, lifting the comforter to put you under it.

“i’ll be right back,” he tells you softly before walking out.

He returns moments later, a bucket in his hand along with another glass of water.

He sets the bucket on the ground, next to you, just in case you need to throw up again. He sits next to you and puts his hand on your forehand, disappointed to see how warm it feels.

He walks into the bathroom and comes out with another wet washcloth and sets it on your forehead this time.

“drink some more water sweetie,” he says softly as he lifts the glass of water to your lips. You take a few sips of water.

“Thank you for staying with me Aaron, I love you,” you tell him sleepily.

“I’ll always be here for you y/n. In sickness and in health, remember? I love you. Get some rest, i’ll be here when you wake up,” he tells you as he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

You close your eyes and let sleep consume you, knowing you have the best husband in the world.

[vanha-paholainen]

Viktor NSFW hc's.

Tw: mentions of sickness, mentions of throwing up, mentions of famished body.

Soon I will see my dear Viktor again.

I made some headcanons about him. Hope someone will like it. English isn't my first language, so please, don't beat me up, I'm just some ukrainian guy.

— The older Viktor gets, the worse his legs get. Problems with joints are added to the congenital curvature. If at the age of twenty-two he was able to cover three or four kilometers in a day, and with proper stops and motivation — all eight, now, at thirty-two, it is sometimes difficult for him even to get himself out of bed.

— Viktor, in addition to the corset and leg correction shown in the series, wears compression stockings when he feels particularly lousy.

— Actually, all his meals are scheduled and strictly regulated in accordance with his medication, but this stubborn workaholic often neglects his needs, which then makes him vomit bile, faints and experiences other troubles.

— Speaking of stomach problems. Let's omit the fact that all the characters that I like, they somehow magically appear — Viktor really has a reason for problems with the gastrointestinal tract. Previously, everything was tolerable, but now, due to the side effects of phlegm-thinning lung drugs and heavy painkillers on which he sits, Viktor vomits with enviable regularity at least once every two weeks. This usually happens either in the middle of the working day or after. Sometimes he jumps up to get a basin early in the morning, because he can also be sick from pills. Because of this, his teeth are slowly deteriorating. In addition, it is in the episodes of vomiting that he feels particularly weak and pathetic.

— It is in case of an unforeseen outpouring of vomit that there is a basin under Viktor's desk.

— He often faints too. This is mainly due to overwork and lack of sleep. Over the years, Victor has learned to anticipate this phenomenon and therefore usually manages to sit down.

— Viktor washes exclusively while sitting on a special shower chair for people with disabilities. You can't sit in the bathroom in his position, and if you do, you'll get out, and standing in the shower without support is painful and tiring for him.

— If Viktor takes days off, it's just to get enough sleep. He doesn't like social events and noisy streets. It seems to him that the Piltoverians look at him with contempt, he does not like small talk, because he is used to putting meaning and sincerity into every word he says, and, besides, the noise of the crowd tires him very quickly. Even when Jayce invites him, filled with a strange sense of extrovert duty to an introverted work partner, Viktor politely refuses. He does not want to once again experience the views of the local nobility and feel like a stranger. He has enough problems without that.

— The feeling of loneliness and misunderstanding is his only faithful companion. Since childhood, Viktor has watched the fun of other children as if through bulletproof glass, and over the years this feeling of alienation from the world of people has only worsened. He had never experienced true friendship, had never loved anyone—and sometimes this realization made him hate himself so much that it was time to climb into a noose. In despair, he thought that maybe if he had been born like everyone else, it would have been easier for him. No, he never tried to be like the crowd, but loneliness often made him regret his genius. Over time, Viktor resigned himself. After all, his mechanisms will always be with him. There is no human impermanence in them. The breakdown of a certain gear is easier to predict than the cooling of a relationship.

— By the age of thirty-two, Viktor is a virgin. As mentioned earlier, he has never loved anyone, and therefore this fact is not shameful for him. He just thinks it's out of his area of interest and has no regrets about it.

— Viktor has a very significant «manhood»: 18.4 cm in length. However, he does not use it.

— Despite the extremely lousy position of his lungs, he smokes, and smokes a lot. He prefers unfiltered cigarettes, smokes about a dozen a day.

— Surprisingly, Viktor is not circumcised and is not even infertile. He is quite capable of becoming a father - but I think anyone understands that this will be the worst version of a dad that can only be imagined.

— Viktor never attached much importance to the partner's gender. He believes that there is no need to limit yourself to such extensive issues. He is bisexual (and possibly a mechanophile).

— If Viktor hypothetically has sex, he will do it with all his usual thoroughness. He will buy a pack of the best thin condoms (japanese ones can serve as an analogue from our world), purchase hypoallergenic lubricant and be very careful with his partner. In addition, before sexual intercourse, he will wash himself and immediately before the process, he will discuss everything with his partner again. It may seem superfluous, but he does not know how to do otherwise. He feels safer when he knows for sure that he is doing everything right: after all, it is not in his plans to damage someone's intestines or cervix.

— What Viktor will definitely not try in bed is the missionary position, where the heavier partner will be on top, and sitting on his face. This point hardly needs explanation.

— If Viktor finds himself in a receiving position in bed (that is, under a man), he will expect from his partner the same tenderness and attentiveness that he shows himself. Viktor does not welcome rudeness and savagery. He is thirty-two years old and terminally ill. With him, either gently and carefully, or in no way.

— Viktor prefers large partners with a good combination of fat percentage and muscle mass. No, appearance does not come first for him, the contact of mind and soul is more important to him — but opposites attract, and he will be especially pleased if his partner, regardless of gender, is an athletic endomorph with dark skin and large breasts. Sky and Jayce are perfect for his type.

— By the way, the subject of Viktor's stingy erotic fantasies are... Anatomical sketches with a female body. Yes, he prefers realism and precision even in such matters.

— Viktor treats himself differently. As mentioned earlier, he differentiates himself from society, and therefore his own nakedness seems disgusting and unnatural to him. He considers himself unattractive due to exhaustion and pelvic problems, and therefore does not like to relate himself to the general mass. Deep down, he wants to become a machine: then there will be no problems with a sick body and an imperfect mind. «Naturalness is for everyone, but not for me.»

[jo-harrington]

Corrective Action (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Reader and Eddie have been hanging out for a little while and a lot of people seem to think it’s ok to voice their opinion around her.

Previous Part: Interview Prep

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Mutual pining and slow burn (yes still, always). Bullying, manipulative/helicopter parents, ACAB, all around shitty people that might trigger some things. Thick skinned reader who is sick of said shitty people. Sad boy Eddie. Hurt/Comfort. Pinky promises.

Note: I really hope this one is good guys, I feel like I wrote half of this in an airport wishing I was actually drinking (I did and I was, but I'm sober and kind of currently wishing I wasn't). If this is me fishing for compliments...I guess this is just yummy bait.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager (in chronological order because I’m chaotic and I’m not gonna stop writing this way) and all of my other random Eddie Headcanons.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

It started with Stacey at work.

You were sitting at the little desk in the stockroom, working out payroll and the next schedule, when she came to clock out.

“Hey, good job today on upselling diamonds,” you told her, incredibly proud. While she was great at customer service, she really had a hard time getting customers to add to their basket. You had worked on coaching her and she was quickly becoming your best sales associate. “I’m proud of you, you’ve been doing so great!”

“Yeah thanks! All of these rich PTA moms I swear to god,” she rolled her eyes. “I guess my mom was only a hard ass if I asked her to buy me things though. If anyone else tried to sell things to her, she always caved.”

She continued going on about her mom getting all the upgrades when she got a new car.

“…Mr. Harrington almost started singing when she finally signed the lease.” She laughed but then sobered up, glancing around the stockroom to see if anyone else was around. Stacey cleared her throat. “Hey I’ve been meaning to ask…”

“What’s up?”

“Are you, like…dating Eddie Munson?”

It would have been an innocent enough question if not for her tone. Or the way she grimaced and scrunched her nose, as if just saying his name put a bad taste in her mouth.

Eddie had been wary of your interactions with Stacey from the beginning, you recalled. And when you had asked him why later on, he beat around the bush a little before giving in.

She was someone who had been in his classes for as long as he could remember, she was not a cheerleader but certainly one of the popular girls, and when her jock boyfriend got a job at the local insurance office after missing his chances at getting an athletic scholarship, she stayed behind too and made all of the local gossip her business.

And for some reason, even if he swore he never remembered saying more than two words to her at any given time, she made rumors about him her specialty.

You’d been at a loss. On the one hand, you knew Eddie dealt with bullies and rumors even if he never outright admitted it to you. But on the other, you had no reason to distrust Stacey. All you knew about the people you worked with were just what they told you and what you were able to witness while working together. And you knew Stacey engaged in all sorts of gossip. But Eddie’s name had never exited her mouth.

Until now.

“What?” You were so shocked at the entire scenario that you didn’t even realize she would take that as an invitation for her to continue.

“Well he’s been hanging around the store and I’ve seen you guys sitting together sometimes. But like…well, haven’t you heard?” She got closer and sat in the chair next to you. “He, like, sacrifices virgins in the woods and has, I don’t know, summoned demons before. He’s a Satanist, a freak.”

You bristled at the name-calling and the accusations.

“Stace—“

”And you’re new so of course you don’t know—“

“Stacey I’m gonna stop you right there,” you held up your hand and she immediately shut up and sat up a little straighter. “First of all, it is incredibly inappropriate to ask me about my personal life. About any aspect of it, outside of what I willingly share with you. I am your boss, I’m not your friend, this isn’t high school. We are all entitled to privacy and I am incredibly uncomfortable discussing this with you.

“Second, again not that you need to know, but no. I am not dating Eddie. Eddie works here in StarCourt and you make friends with people when you work at a shopping mall. That being said, Eddie is not only an employee at StarCourt, but also a human being and a neighbor to all of us—”

“Ew no he isn’t. He lives in that—“ she started but you weren’t having any of it.

“And because of that he deserves some respect. Calling someone a freak and spreading rumors isn’t respectful. Which leads me to the last point.

“One of the values of this company is integrity. Doing the right thing, even if it’s hard to do. And I’m sorry but bullying, under any circumstance, is not the right thing to do. So even though you are off the clock, you are still on company property and you are certainly not operating with integrity. I’m incredibly disappointed that I have to have this kind of conversation with you, but I will consider this a warning for next time.

“If I hear talk like this coming from you again, there will be disciplinary action,” you concluded. “Do you understand?”

You hated to do it, you hated to put on the manager pants. You hated that Stacey’s eyes welled with tears the longer you talked and that she trembled as she finally nodded. But even if Eddie wasn’t your friend, you wouldn’t condone this kind of behavior. You held your team to an incredibly high standard and this wasn’t it.

You sent Stacey home and got back to the schedule with a sour taste in your mouth.

---

The next time, you were actually out with Eddie.

He had told you that the sunrise at the old quarry was second to none and when you confessed that you had never actually watched the sunset or the sunrise before, he immediately figured out the best day for you to go together.

He had put together a picnic with all sorts of breakfast foods, because apparently no one made pancakes, bacon, and eggs better than he did—

“Got an A+ in home ec, thank you very much. Didn’t help me get my GPA up but Wayne is pretty happy when I have breakfast waiting for him after a double shift.”

—and treats from the gas station since he insisted that you needed to experience all of the convenience food he loved. There was a thermos full of coffee and a boat load of blankets in the back of the van. He picked you up at your apartment, ringing the bell at ass o’clock in the morning looking way too energetic for someone who woke up so early.

“What do you mean? I never went to sleep!”

The radio was low as he drove you towards the outskirts of town; he’d also surprised you with a replacement of your old Boston cassette that you had nearly played to death, and he hummed along and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel along with Foreplay.

You reached a certain sign on the road signaling the quarry was up ahead, only for the tell tale lights and “whoop whoop” of a squad car to sound off from behind you. Eddie cursed and pulled off to the side of the road.

“Sweetheart can you grab me, uh” he motioned for the glove box. You’d already popped it open and dug through to find his registration as he pulled the wallet from his pocket. “Thanks.”

The crunch of gravel caused Eddie to look at this side mirror and groan a low, drawn out “fuck.”

“Munson,” the officer greeted roughly once the window was rolled down.

“Callahan,” Eddie replied. “Hopper got you on traffic patrol now huh?”

“Very funny,” Callahan deadpanned. “You know why I pulled you over.”

“Actually I don’t,” Eddie chuckled dryly. “License plates are up to date, I wasn’t speeding, and that tail light you busted last time you pulled me over is fixed.”

What the fuck?

"I don't like the tone you're taking with me, kid," Callahan spat. "Not a respectful bone in your body, any time I have to pull you over. It's for your safety after all. And the safety of the entire town."

How many times had this guy pulled Eddie over? 5? 10?

“Anyway, we just broke up a party over in Loch Nora about an hour ago, lot of kids high and wasted,” Callahan continued and there was no way you could have guessed the words that were coming out of his mouth next. “I know how you like to hang around parties like those, do a few deals. Maybe you decided to take advantage of some pretty girl who doesn’t know where she is.”

Callahan leaned down a little further and shined a flashlight into the van, directly at you.

“How you doing tonight miss? Can you tell me your name please?”

Your world was shaken to the core.

“Excuse me?” You scoffed, clenching your fists.

“You got your wits about you, or do I need to call an ambulance or something? Maybe your mom, if she needs to come pick you up?”

“I’m fine, officer, but I don’t like what you’re implying about my friend here.” You responded harshly. “Or about me. I am a grown woman, I am in this van of my own volition, with full mental capacities other than the fact that I’m maybe a little tired because I just woke up 20 minutes ago to go see the sunrise with my friend.”

Callahan stumbled over his words for a second, immediately backtracking as Eddie sat speechless in the driver's seat.

“We were never at a party in Loch Nora. Eddie didn’t kidnap me. Neither of us are drunk or high. So I’m pretty sure this is an unlawful traffic stop officer,” you concluded.

Both officer Callahan and Eddie looked at you with dumbstruck expressions.

“What, it’s true. So unless you have another reason to have pulled us over, officer?” You asked. “Can we be on our way now?”

He cleared his throat and handed the license and registration back to Eddie.

“Must have seen another van outside the party. An easy mistake to make,” he replied. “Got yourself a smart girlfriend there, Munson. Don’t fuck it up like you usually do ok?”

Callahan did another “whoop whoop” before pulling away and heading back to town, but Eddie continued to sit stiffly, refusing to move.

“You ok?” You asked, putting a hand on his arm.

“I can’t…he didn’t…” Eddie stumbled over his words. “I’m not like that ok? I don’t…I don’t take advantage of girls at parties. Fuck. Please don’t think—”

“I didn’t,” you assured him.

“Callahan always has it in for me, man,” He explained. “I don’t even know what I did. Caught me smoking weed on school grounds with the guys one summer way back and it was like a permanent target was placed on my back.”

“Small town cops with a big ego,” you explained, knowing fully well how douchebags like that were. “And you’re the resident bad boy.”

“You gotta stop calling me that,” he groaned in, what you believed to be, embarrassment.

---

And it kept happening.

Whispers when you went out for pizza, eyes watching you at the grocery store with pity or disgust, you didn’t know for sure. The one time you both stopped in Montgomery Ward on lunch to get a new dress (and for Eddie not to spend his lunch alone) and the saleswoman kept hovering as though you were about to steal.

Well, not you. Eddie.

No one usually dared to say anything to your face but you could still hear it. “She hangs around that Munson boy. Ugh such a troublemaker. Poor girl. Someone should tell her. He’s a trickster, that one.”

And no, you knew it wasn’t everyone. Just the busybodies who didn’t know what they were talking about.

You’d usually roll your eyes and continue on with your day. You could take whatever was thrown your way—some people just sucked and they couldn’t keep their mouths shut—but you knew how it affected Eddie. You could see it when you were with him, how deflated he became.

Your friend, one of the best people you knew, regardless of your stupid crush on him. He became distant, shrunk like he wanted to take up less space in the world.

You just about had enough of it.

And it all came to a head one day, a week after you hired Chrissy Cunningham as a part-time associate.

Her mother dropped her off after Cheer camp one day and wanted to see the new store.

You had a pretty solid parent policy that you made known to your teenage associates, just as your old store manager did when she first hired you at 16. Parents could come in and visit, shop, sure. But they weren’t going to interfere with the business. No calling to complain if the schedules conflicted with family nights. No calling in sick on their kids behalf.

“If you’re old enough to take on the responsibility of a job, you’re taking all of the responsibilities, ok? Even the not so nice ones.”

Chrissy, just like the others, understood.

Chrissy’s mom, on the other hand, had a bit of a problem with that.

You were nice enough when they first got in, getting to hear how the whole family was so excited about her first job, how it would look great on college applications come Fall. Chrissy, of course, had told you all of this in her interview; she was a sweet kid who clearly was trying to take on a lot and once you met her mom, you understood where the pressure was coming from.

Your mom was like that too, in her own way. Picking and picking and picking.

“Oh actually,” Mrs Cunningham started and from her tone you knew it was just going to be the beginning of a whole to-do. “I was meaning to ask if Chrissy could change her schedule? I saw you had put her on Saturday afternoons. But there’s a junior cheer team at the park district that she helps coach and they have meets on the first Saturday of the month.”

The too-big, overly-whitened smile was an unspoken threat of “you’re going to give me what I want or else.”

You explained that weekends were a mandatory availability for your associates who were still in school, but it didn’t mean they would always be scheduled. You had already told Chrissy that you would give her the days of her meets off, if she let you know the dates at least 2 weeks in advance. It was only once a month, after all.

That smile fell, like it always did, when someone like Mrs. Cunningham, like your mother, like all the other Stepford-wife types in town, didn’t get their way.

She tried once again to explain, this was important to Chrissy and she could trade Saturdays for another day. Maybe Thursday afternoon? Only if she didn’t have too much homework, of course.

But there was no way to know that when you were writing the schedule two weeks out, you argued.

"Then I guess you'll just have to find a replacement for her shifts if she can't come in," Mrs. Cunningham argued.

“Ma’am, I leave the responsibility of schedule and availability to my associates when I hire them,” you explain. “Not their parents. You said you were excited for Chrissy to have a job. It’s only been a week. If she thinks she can handle Saturdays—or even if she doesn’t—I’ll leave it up to her. School hasn't even started yet; let's just give it some time before we try to make changes ok?”

And as one does when they feel attacked, she went after low hanging fruit.

“I wouldn’t expect you,” she sneered, “to know a whole lot about responsibility…or planning ahead for the future. You work in this little shop; it's not even a real job. I’ll bet you didn’t even go to college.

“And Chrissy said you’re friends with the Munson boy right? That he shows up sometimes to talk to you. He’s never known a day of responsibility in his life. He’s…he’s a drug dealer, a troublemaker—”

“Alright that’s it,” you interjected. “This is a place of business—my place of business—and we’re getting busy, so I will have to ask you to leave Mrs. Cunningham. Unless you want to stay for a piercing, I do have paying customers to tend to. I will discuss the schedule again with Chrissy. I promise.

“But for now, thanks for stopping by, it was so nice to meet you.”

---

“God she was such a bitch,” you complained as you watched Eddie throw cardboard boxes into the bailer.

This was typical for lunches spent together. You would both run trash down to the loading dock and complain about work while Eddie smoked—allowing you to luxuriate in his secondhand smoke for a little while—and then you would head to the food court to eat and just…spend time together.

Listen to music, talk about movies or books or whatever else came to mind.

This friendship was still new, there was plenty to talk about.

You kind of hoped there would always be something new to talk about. And that you two would be talking and having lunch together for a long time.

Best not get your hopes up though.

Currently, you were recounting the interaction with Mrs. Cunningham, purposefully leaving out the way she brought him into conversation.

What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Right?

“Poor Chrissy,” you sighed.

“Poor Chrissy?” Eddie scoffed. “Yeah, really sucks to be on top.”

“You know, she might be on top at school—”

“And her family might be rich, and she might live in a big house, and she might only need to work so it looks good on college applications. See where I’m going with this?”

“—but it sucks to have a parent constantly shitting on you. Even if they do it for ‘your benefit...'.”

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

“I stayed at home with you kids and this is the thanks I get?”

“I can’t make you respect this family. But don’t you have any self-respect?”

Maybe you were just projecting...

“Speaking of Queen Bee, here she comes now with her lover boy,” Eddie said, batting his eyelashes dramatically, and then he made a gagging noise. You were exiting the service corridors and spotted Chrissy, who had clocked out for the day, walking towards the food court with a very clean, athletic-looking blond boy.

“Now if you wanna talk about a bitch, look no further than Jason Carver.”

He proceeded to tell you all about how Jason and Jeff were neighbors, how they used to be friends as kids. How they stopped talking once Jason started up with sports, and he started picking on Jeff once he made varsity.

“He had some macho, roided up growth spurt last year, and that paired with the self-righteous bible thumping meant that Hellfire was an easy target. Those meathead jocks picked on us before, sure, but…I dunno, Jason is a whole other level of cruel. 

“And he doesn’t hesitate to beat up the younger kids, but if I’m around…well needless to say they’re a little scared of me, they don’t want to take a chance that I’ll put a curse on them or something.

“I’ll do whatever I need to, I’ll be their villain, if it means keeping those kids safe.” He rubbed the sleeve of his flannel against his nose and sniffled lightly. “But it’s not like there’s anything I can do aside from that. I have to just sit there and take it, let my friends take it, because if I don’t…if I don’t, then I become everything they say I am. Angry, dangerous, a menace, a criminal.”

“Eddie that’s terrible,” you grumbled, Chrissy’s mom and your own troubles forgotten. "You don't deserve to be picked on like that."

Eddie hummed in contemplation for a moment.

“Ok enough of them, do you want to share chili cheese fries?” He diverted. You hesitated, not wanting to drop the subject entirely, but also not wanting to push him. Eddie flashed you those big, pleading eyes, though, and you caved.

Asshole knew exactly what he was doing.

“Sure,” you smiled.

“And you’ll let me buy today,” he continued, holding his hand out before you could argue. “Because you feel bad for me you’re gonna let me do it.”

“What logic is that?!” You exclaimed. He giggled maniacally and motioned for you to find a table before he practically skipped to the line to order.

He was lucky that he was cute.

---

Chrissy approached you the next time she had a shift together; you were planning to pull her aside at the end of her shift to double check that she was sure about her availability and to go over the parent policy once again. It was kind of a relief that she took the initiative instead.

“I’m sorry about my mom,” she began timidly. “She shouldn't have come in here just to interfere. It's just that I do have a lot going on, and when I told her I wanted to work at the mall too...well, she just..."

"Chrissy, I understand," you interjected. "Really I do, you don't need to explain. I knew when I hired you that you had a lot on your plate."

"Thank you again, by the way."

"I just want to make sure that you're sure this is the right move. Do we need to look at your availability again?" you asked. "If your mom comes back to have this conversation again, I'm not going to stand for it. I need employees who are responsible for their own time."

"No I know..." she sighed. "I'll talk with her. I really do like working here."

"I like having you work here," you reassured her. "You're doing a really great job so far."

"R-really?" she smiled, eyes getting a little glossy. "Thank you. I'm trying. My mom...never seems to be happy with anything I do. If it's not what I do, it's how long it takes, and if it's not that, then it's how I look, and--" She was starting to breathe a little heavily and you sighed.

"Hey listen, I get it," you said gently. "Mom's...well, sometimes they can be the worst. They know exactly what buttons to push. And I don't want to sound insensitive because I want you to know you can talk to me any time, I'm here for you. But we are on the sales floor.

"I know your shift is almost over, if you want to take a few to go in back and settle down before you leave, you can," you encouraged her. It wasn't a busy day; you could afford to give her a few extra minutes to herself.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, Mindy will be back from lunch in a few and I can come and grab you if I need you."

Chrissy gave you a watery smile and then headed back into the stockroom.

There were a few minutes of restocking bracelets before the shop bell rang as a new customer walked in.

"Hey! Welcome in!" You greeted brightly, mindlessly, before looking up to find Chrissy's boyfriend standing there. He smiled and nodded in greeting.

"Hey, I'm here to pick Chrissy up," he explained.

"You're a little early," you laughed, trying to be cordial despite Eddie's words about him echoing in your mind. "She's just in back finishing up. I'll let her know you're here."

"Nah, that's ok," Jason shrugged. "I wanted to talk to you really quick."

You frowned at him and narrowed your eyes.

"Boyfriends unfortunately don't qualify for the employee discount," you stated lightly, hoping that this was the only thing he had to ask. "So if you have a little sister or something--"

"No, it's about Eddie Munson," he continued. "You really need to stay away from him."

Yeah. That was exactly what you were afraid he would say.

Ugh, you were really getting tired of this.

And it wasn't just that you were sick of people meddling, it was this boy in particular who was really rubbing you the wrong way. Gossipy sales associates with jock boyfriends, useless troublesome cops, nosy housewives, and well-meaning grandmas were one thing.

But a high school boy who was still wearing a letterman jacket in July, with a too nice smile and the audacity to have a savior complex when he was the one tormenting other kids?

That was where you drew the line.

You just wondered if you were willing to lose your job because of him.

“I'm telling you this for your own good. The crowd he’s a part of…,” Jason leaned closer as though it was a secret. “They’re a bunch of wastoids, listening to that devil's music, trying to lure virgins into the woods to sacrifice. And if you want to sit with the right crowd at lunch when school starts--”

You barked a laugh at this, right in his face, and he backed away looking confused.

Ok, so this wasn't "lose your job" worthy.

You mentally pulled on both your Disappointed Older Sibling and Angry Store Manager pants to gear up for this fight.

"Ok kid, real talk," you started, clapping your hands like a coach would. "I'm not in the business of yelling at teenage boys. And as flattering as it is that you might think I'm still in high school, there is no way a teenager would be managing a store. So there's point number one. Number two, don't assume a lady's age ok? At all. In either direction. That's a life lesson I'm gonna give you for free.

"Number three, and not that this conversation isn't...just really lovely, I need to get a point across and I'm sincerely doubtful you're gonna listen to me anyway. I just need you to understand that...like, whoever is hanging out with who, or going where, or doing what, is generally none of your business. Especially your girlfriend's boss. It's really disappointing that a nice boy like you is gonna cause his girlfriend to lose her job because he can't mind his own business."

And that was the punctuation at the end of the sentence to make him look nervous and a little sweaty.

You felt a little bad saying it, because no, you weren't going to fire Chrissy because of this dumb boy. But hopefully this would be a lesson learned.

"E-e-eddie was hanging around Chrissy the other day," he stuttered, looking extremely out of his element. Never been the person who had to face consequences before; you knew the type. "I saw him in here when I came to pick her up. She said...you were his friend and he was just waiting for you."

"I'm sure he was waiting for me."

"He always had crushes on the cheerleaders," he explained. "He was sniffing around this girl Julie a few years ago and she found out he was into this satanic stuff...I figured either you or Chrissy were next..."

"Oh buddy," you sighed. "And you figured if you came in here and told me not to hang around him, I would be spared...and Chrissy would be too?"

"See? You get it."

"Except that's really not how things work in real life or at a shopping mall, kid," you said. "Everyone is allowed to go wherever they want and talk to whoever they want. And I, as one of the managers in this building, am able to assess what is a danger to myself and my employees and Eddie certainly isn't one of them. Except for his corny jokes, he is harmless.

"You on the other hand," you continued, savoring the moment Jason's eyes got a little wider. "Approached me with a very distinct and threatening energy. So unless you want me to call mall security and make sure you are no longer allowed on the premises, I will need you to...re-evaluate your tone of voice and your intention of visiting.

"So, what was your name again?"

"J-Jason Carver, ma'am."

Ew. Ma'am. Ok you weren't that old. But you could deal with it.

"Jason Carver," your tone changed immediately, back to the sickening Store Manager voice you defaulted to on a regular basis. Eddie had called it unsettling before, to hear you go from your regular tone of voice to that. Jason's eye twitched and you grinned maniacally. "It's so nice to meet you. Chrissy was telling everyone it's your anniversary coming up?"

His eyes shifted slightly, and he laughed nervously.

"Ye-yes ma'am," he agreed.

"And what are you planning to get her as a gift?" you asked. He froze again. Ok, no gift; Chrissy definitely deserved better than that. "I think a necklace would be really lovely. Not from here, I can see you looking at the jewelry wall. But there's a really nice jewelry store downstairs that has birthstone pendants and stuff. I think she would really love something from there."

"I-I think that's a great idea," he nodded vigorously.

The door to the stockroom opened and Chrissy walked out with her bag in hand, ready for you to check it.

"Ok, I'm all set to go then, thank you so much for--Jason!" Chrissy smiled when she saw her boyfriend. "I thought you were going to wait for me downstairs."

He cleared his throat and composed himself.

"Figured I would come up and surprise you," he grinned smoothly. "Met your boss, she's...really cool, just like you said."

Nice save.

Ok maybe he wasn't as stupid as you originally thought.

Chrissy waved goodbye as they left, and Jason had the right sense to keep his mouth shut.

---

You waited outside Tape World as the mall started to slow down and get dark. There was a little coin-operated horse right outside of the store and you leaned against it and wondered, if it was a real horse, how fast it could take you and Eddie out of this shit hole of a town, away from all of the people who said horrible things.

You had nothing to complain about though. Eddie had to deal with it for years. He did so much to protect his friends...all you wanted to do was to protect him too.

The gate opened up and Eddie ducked underneath, grinning at you once it was locked and he was upright once again. He muttered a quick goodbye to the associate who closed with him before he approached you.

"Hey, it's only Thursday," he laughed. "Did I forget we had plans? I thought you opened."

"No, I was a mid," you shrugged. "But I stayed because..."

Should you tell him? You didn't want to upset him, or have him pull away from you, like he always did whenever talk of his reputation around town was mentioned. You wanted your silly, carefree, wonderful best friend not to have to suffer because of narrow minded people anymore.

"Beeeccaauuuuseee." He hums for a moment. "Because you knew that I was planning a Little Debbie taste test for Sunday and that all of the snacks were in the van right now?"

"What?" you laughed. "Oh my God."

"You said you were more of a Hostess person. I am trying to change your allegiance to the Dark Side of the Force." He stood taller, theatrically trying to mimic Darth Vader. "What better way than with a joint or two and a shit ton of snack cakes at the lake."

"Eddie!"

"What? Don't tell me you have never smoked before," he said in mock offense. "What rock have you been living under? I'm going to have to call your parents, young lady. They did too good a job raising you."

You stared at him for a minute as he laughed and you couldn't help yourself; you quickly closed the distance between the two of you and wrapped your arms around his waist. He went stiff for a second before placing one of his arms around your shoulders and his other hand on the back of your head.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly. "I mean, I know I did good with the Little Debbie, but you don't have to smoke if you don't want to. I was just kidding."

"No, it's not..." you sighed.

Hugging Eddie was nothing like hugging a girl friend--all squeezes and giggles over something silly and stupid--or hugging a relative--stiff and a little cold, your family not really ones for outward affection to begin with. He was just the right hug shape, his arms at the right height, the right length to wrap around you. His cheek at the right height to rest on the top of your head if he really wanted to (which you really hoped he did). His stupid waist that was perfect for you to wrap your arms around and soft enough that you could squeeze a little bit and he would actually give instead of just stiff and there.

An Eddie Hug was a perfect hug.

And hopefully your hug was perfect for him too, so that it wouldn't hurt him or scare him away as you told him...

"You remember last week?" you began. "You said Jason Carver is the biggest bitch I'd ever meet?"

"Y-yeah," he replied hesitantly, getting a little stiff in your arms, but he did nothing to pull away from you.

"Well, I met him and he is," you continued.

"What did he do?" Eddie asked, irritation evident in his voice. "If...if he did something, said something to you, I swear to God I--"

"I handled it," you cut him off. "He tried to scare me away from you. He said...well, it doesn't matter does it?"

"I'm sure it's what everyone says about me."

"And I told him he could get fucked," you said.

"What?!" Eddie finally pushed you away from him, hands gripping your arms tightly, as he laughed. "No you didn't."

"No I didn't," you shook your head. "But I might as well have. I think I scared him."

"Did you do the creepy voice?" he asked.

"Yeah," you giggled.

"I fucking hate that," he shivered.

"One day, Eddie Munson, you will answer the phone with a 'y'ello' and you will forever be turned to the Dark Side too," you mimicked his Darth Vader impression. "Just you wait and see."

"Never, I would sooner die!" He threw an arm across his eyes dramatically and turned away from you. After a moment had passed, he stood up straight again, hands fidgeting at his sides. "So, uh, are we cool?"

"Why wouldn't we be?"

"Because everyone tells you to stay away from me," he shrugged. "That I'm no good. That I'm a freak. I've been hearing it all my life. But I don't think I could stand it if I heard it from you too."

"Eddie," you started, worrying at your lip for a second. "I know how soul crushing it is to constantly have to hear how bad you are, how you're never gonna live up to whatever expectations others have of you. But listen to me, and listen good: you are absolutely wonderful.

"A wonderful neighbor, a wonderful coworker, a wonderful friend. Who cares what other people think about you; who cares, even...what I think about you?"

"I care," he shrugged.

"But it doesn't matter how many people tell me that you're bad, I'm never gonna think that about you ok? You're so many things but you're also just...good. Ok?"

"Ok," he nodded, eyes getting progressively more watery by the second.

"And don't you start with the self-deprecating shit around me anymore either," you weakly swatted at his shoulder and his torso, and he laughed. "I can't take it. Only one of us can be a miserable piece of shit, and I'm older, so I have dibs."

"You're not a miserable piece of shit," he chuckled. "You're wonderful too."

"No more of this...sad sackery then? From either of us?" you asked and held out a pinky to him. "You can't break a pinky swear."

Eddie wrapped his pinky around yours tightly.

"No more. Upon punishment of death."

---

Next Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.04

Tag List (can I call you guys the Sales Associates? OMG, that's what it's gonna be): @gaysludge @storiesbyrhi @tayhar811 @spookybabey @word-wytchh @maidenofartemis @dreamlandcreations @wickedbelle

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I'm sure I missed some tag requests, but I have been out of town with shoddy internet access so blame that, not me.

[tumbleweed-writes]

Death and the Lady: Chibs Telford X Reader. Chapter Twelve

TAG LIST: @youngadult9016  @mrsfilipchibstelford @mamawiggers1980 @ravennaortiz @liveinsteadofdreaming @redwoodmaya

PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE

18+ Only. Crude sexual language.

======

Chapter Twelve: Lamb

The door to the deputy sheriff’s office in Charming’s local P.D., was yanked open so hard that it could almost be considered a miracle it did not fracture the drywall against the doorknob as it slammed against the wall.

Deputy David Hale stared down at Agent June Stahl, his eyes dark and narrow the words flying from his lips. “You had my guys pull records on Tara Knowles and Y/N Y/L/N?”

Stahl gazed up at the infuriated deputy, her voice calm and cool showing no regard for his anger, she not even caring enough to address the question. “Did you enjoy your lunch break?”

Hale glared down at the ATF agent spotting the files spread out across the desk, his stomach turning at the clear sight of old mugshots featuring both Tara and Y/N along with police reports.

He didn’t understand what angle Stahl was working here. If she was interested in ol ladies then surely Gemma Teller Morrow would be a better choice. 

Tara and Y/N weren’t exactly on the same level as the Queen of SAMCRO. What could they possibly provide Stahl to build a RICO case against SAMCRO?

Both Tara and Y/N having questionable taste in romantic partners didn’t exactly mean they were involved in gun running. 

Deputy Hale slammed the door shut behind him not wanting any nearby ears to pick up on the conversation he was about to have with Stahl. He knew he’d already attracted a few gazes from both ATF agents and his fellow department coworkers by bursting in here clearly pissed off. 

He spoke his voice harsh, as he glared down at her, the agent looking all too comfortable sitting at his desk. “They have nothing to do with this investigation.”

“Oh, David. How willfully naive. They have so much to do with this investigation. You aren’t seeing the possibility behind these two.” Stahl remarked an amused smirk crossing her lips at how worked up the good deputy seemed to be over the mention of these two women.

It seemed that she had struck a nerve in him, and she was unable to avoid the temptation to strike again.

Hale let out a scoff at the comment addressing his first concern. “Tara Knowles left Charming and SAMCRO behind. She might have had a wild past, but she’s cleaned up her act. She went out to Chicago and got a medical degree. She’s not opening beers for outlaws anymore.”

“Oh, we both know that’s not entirely true. All these photos Agent Kohn provided seem to indicate that Dr. Knowles is starting to get a little close and personal with one very patched in Jackson Teller. Those two have a history judging by these police reports. Arrests in the nineties for public intoxication, disorderly conduct, and possession of stolen property, all in the company of one Jackson Teller.”

“They dated back when we were teenagers. We all did stupid things as teens. She left town at nineteen and left Teller and the MC behind. She’s been gone for over a decade now. She only came back because her dad died and she got a job opportunity out here.” Hale snapped Agent Stahl rolling her eyes at the comment.

“She was out in Chicago, David. She was top of the class from the looks of it. Brilliant young woman with the accolades to back it up, just how many job opportunities must those brains and accomplishments have brought in for her? With her background she could take a job anywhere in the country at any hospital of her choice. Why’d she pick Charming? I can’t imagine it's just homesickness that led her back here. She could have stayed out in Chicago and made a hell of a lot more money than Saint Thomas is probably offering her. Why pick Saint Thomas and Charming? I think we both are well aware of Agent Kohn’s real reason for coming out to Charming. Agent Kohn is one sick puppy and I can’t imagine Tara was too keen on sticking around up in Chicago with him hanging around. Tara’s ex boyfriend becomes her stalker and she comes back to a town where her first love has a dangerous reputation. You don’t think that’s a little convenient? '' Stahl pointed out Hale gritting his jaw unwilling to admit that the answer to just why she’d come back home lay in Jax Teller.

He spoke, still refusing to admit that Tara could possibly have any possible information to build a RICO case. “I’m sure Jackson Teller’s boy being premature has made Tara and he take some walks down memory lane, but Tara is no ol lady. She’s not getting any pillow talk about gun running from anyone in SAMCRO. Agent Kohn has been taken care of. He’s heading back to Chicago to answer to his superiors. Tara Knowles isn’t looking to seek protection from Teller.”

Stahl raised a brow at the comments, shrugging her shoulders as she spoke. “That may be the case, but you do have to be a little curious about the similarities between Dr. Knowles and Miss. Y/L/N. Both young women with troubled criminally prone backgrounds who left town only to come back after losing their fathers. Both women have been seen in the company of at least one patched in member of SAMCRO. In fact, both women share some similarities in their rap sheets. Looks like they have both been arrested in the company of one Jackson Teller. I do have to wonder if Dr. Knowles knows that Jax found a new Bonnie to his Clyde in her absence.”

Hale let out a huff at this, his voice holding an edge of irritation as he glared down at Stahl. “Y/N had some difficult years in her late teens and early twenties. Jackson and she shared a bond given her brother’s accident.”

“Yes, Daniel Y/L/N. It’s a shame what happened to him. Miss. Y/L/N dutifully pays those institutionalization bills to keep him cared for.  Looks like he wasn’t on the best path though. He ran around with Harry Opie Winston and Jackson Teller from what I’m gathering from Daniel’s police record. Looks like his first few arrests weren’t anything too grand, arrests in his late teens for possession of marijuana…not enough to get him more than a fine…some drunk and disorderlies around the same time. He was arrested with both Winston and Teller for a drunken brawl out at the Hairy Dog back when he was twenty one. The arresting officer commented that Mr. Y/L/N seemed elated by the violence. Judging by the black eye and the grin on his face in this mugshot, he was in his element. Strange how he never prospected for the MC. Looks like he was as thick as thieves with Teller and Winston before the accident.”

“His father kept him on a tight leash. After that arrest at twenty one he gave him an ultimatum, some tough love to get him on the right path. From my understanding he told him to get his shit together and enroll in community college or lose access to Y/N. His father didn’t want him leading her down that path. Daniel loved his little sister dearly. She worshiped Daniel and their father knew she’d follow him anywhere. His accident was heartbreaking for her. He may as well have died with as hard as she took it. He was more than a brother to her. I'm sure she viewed Daniel as being her best friend.” Hale explained shifting in place his stomach turning at the mention of a young man he’d once considered a friend before Daniel started going down a bad path with Opie and Jax.

“Looks like the ultimatum was in vain. Daniel Y/L/N has his motorcycle accident and that same year Y/N gets arrested in the company of Jackson Teller. She got busted for public intoxication. Scandalous considering she was all of eighteen and Mr. Teller was about twenty three, a little too old to be sniffing around her, but we both know the MC isn't filled morally upstanding guys. Her being barely out of being considered jailbait must have been thrilling for the boys at SAMCRO.” Stahl provided proudly displaying the mugshot.

Hale gazed down at the mugshot of an eighteen year old Y/N, her face still holding baby fat, her hair a faded pink that had gone a peachy tone, a dazed look in her eyes; she was clearly under the influence. He could spot chipped black nail polish on her fingers and a silver stud in her left nostril. The tank top she wore was far too low cut revealing the red lace of a bra. The slight smirk on her red painted lips showed that she felt little shame for her very first arrest.

Stahl spoke again providing more information about Y/N’s arrest record. “She continued to become a frequent flier in your jail cells. Looks like she got picked up a few more times at eighteen and nineteen, drunk and disorderly, driving under the influence, driving under the influence on a suspended license, possession of the tiniest amount of pot which wasn't enough to be an issue if she wasn’t clearly drunk, an arrest for shoplifting a pack of cigarettes and a candy bar where the arresting officer noted she seemed intoxicated. You picked her up more than once for some of these arrests…that must have been awkward for you both. Looks like she got a few slaps on the wrist, some fines, and some court ordered community service along with a few alcohol education courses. Didn’t seem to faze her though as the arrests continued…gotta love a small town police department. Most of this crap would have landed her doing some real time anywhere but Charming.”

“Sheriff Unser respected her father…everyone respected her father for the good he did for the community; caring for the deceased. He was a beloved figure around Charming. People saw him as personable and caring for the bereaved and diligent about caring for the dead. He had a reputation for being charitable to those who couldn’t always afford to bury their dead…made him even more adored around town. People felt sorry for him after Daniel’s accident…people around town felt awful for the man losing his son and having a daughter who wasn’t coping well. Lloyd Y/L/N advocated for his daughter to stay out of the system…Unser felt bad given what happened with Daniel, didn’t want Lloyd to lose another kid…The judge who ordered the community service and alcohol awareness courses felt the same way given Unser’s appeals to give Y/N opportunities to get her life on the right track. I don’t know how he kept her out of any real jail time or any harsher punishments…Unser’s a slick son of a bitch. I’m sure some money passed between Lloyd Y/L/N’s palm and the judge’s at least once. Lloyd Y/L/N was morally upstanding, but when it came to his little girl…he was willing and desperate enough to break his morals…especially given the situation with his son. He couldn't bear to lose Y/N too.” Hale provided, gritting his jaw at the thought of Unser.

Stahl shook her head. “Guess it’s good to be friends with Unser. Looks like Unser’s appeals kept her out of too much trouble, but she didn’t get her life on the right track. There’s a few more arrests here at nineteen. This one is interesting; an arrest in the company of one Alexander Tig Trager and one Robert Bobby Elvis Munson at a truck stop right on the edge of Charming city limits. Looks like she was about to turn nineteen and all three were clearly very under the influence. Trager was driving erratically and the officer noted that Y/N was so intoxicated that she fell out of the passengers door when the officer opened it. Local PD couldn’t prove that either man had provided the alcohol for Miss. Y/L/N, so Trager and Munson didn’t get more than a slap on the wrist for being in the company of an intoxicated minor. You do have to admit it's troubling a girl her age was hanging out with two men that age. Rumors around town are that Miss. Y/L/N was a regular at SAMCRO’s clubhouse. Looks like she was a…croweater? Isn’t that the term the Sons use for the club whores?”

The comment made Hale see red, the man speaking his voice harsh. “She kept bad company back then, but she was not playing the croweater game. She was not spreading her legs for every single guy in a kutte.” 

Stahl smirked at the comment, quickly addressing it. “Sounds like I struck a nerve there, David. You’re getting a little defensive about Miss. Y/L/N’s promiscuous past? One might think you’re sweet on her.”

She smirked all the more as she spotted the way Hale tensed all the more at the comment. She spotted a flash of indignation in the man’s eyes at the implication that Y/N was a club tart. “You arrested her a few times back then, David? That must have been frustrating for you in more ways than one. I bet you wanted to place her in handcuffs in much different circumstances.”

Hale scoffed at this comment shaking his head, his voice tense he refusing to address the innuendo about handcuffs and Y/N the thought making him a little hot under the collar. “I was close with her brother when we were kids. Having to arrest Y/N was not something I found enjoyable.”

Stahl sighed, backing off the teasing as she pulled out another mugshot. “Looks like she was around nineteen and twenty when things got a little disturbing for Miss Y/L/N. Her partner in crime shifted from Jackson and a few members of SAMCRO and to one Nathaniel Gunner Papadopoulos. Nathaniel or Gunner as he goes by is a Son. Looks like he was a nomad at the time, but nowadays he’s fully patched into the Tacoma charter of the Sons. The first arrests with him follow the same path; public intoxication and drunk and disorderly…then things get dark. There were a few calls out to bars around town where the two had some verbal altercations, there were no arrests for these as they vacated the premises and that satisfied the bar owners. Then there was an arrest outside a gas station for being disorderly in public…Y/N is about nineteen here and Gunner is about twenty six…looks like they got into a verbal altercation once again and Mr. Papadopoulos struck Miss. Y/L/N…he was arrested. She was taken in after she tried to argue with the arresting officer and interfere with the arrest of Mr. Papadopoulos. It seems she was frustrated that he was being arrested as she did not want to press charges for the physical assault on her. That was the first arrest for an altercation between the pair where things got physical. Looks like one of the final arrests we have of the pair involved an altercation the two had outside of a diner when Miss. Y/L/N was twenty. You were one of the responding officers from what I see”.

Hale shifted in place, his jaw clenching so tight he looked as though he might crack a tooth. He cringed as Stahl continued. “Chances are you must remember the arrest, but I can refresh your memory. From the police record it looks as though Mr. Popadopoulos and Miss. Y/L/N were under the influence and having a lovers spat in the parking lot of the diner, over the waitress getting a little too friendly with Mr. Papadopoulos, when Papadopoulos struck Miss. Y/L/N. She reacted by hitting him back and it devolved into a full on physical altercation. Looks like she got him pretty good judging by the scratch marks across his face and the bruises he’s sporting. He seems to have gotten her better though given the split lip. The arresting officer who you were with noted past bruises on Miss. Y/L/N and indicated suspicion of domestic violence, but Miss. Y/L/N seemed to brush questions about it off as evidence of rough sexual encounters between Mr. Papadopoulos and her. You noted in your notes on the arrest that you tried to urge Miss. Y/L/N to press charges against Mr. Papadopoulos as her reaction could be written off as self defense..but she was not interested. The two spent the night in jail and one of the Sons, looks like one of Gunner's fellow nomads that was visiting the mother charter, bailed Gunner out the next morning…Gunner then bailed Miss. Y/L/N out…how romantic. The mugshots are not pretty”

Hale let out a heavy breath, his body filled with tension as he gazed down at the mugshot in question. Y/N looked far less proud of herself in this photo. Her right eye was swollen, the hint of a black eye starting to develop. Her lip was split courtesy of one of Gunner’s silver chunky biker rings. She was dressed in another tight tank top and it did little to hide the bruises across her skin, some markings old and some quite recent. Her eyes held an almost empty sense to them as though she was running on autopilot most of the time but disconnected from her surroundings. Her body seemed too thin and it felt as though it was from more than aging. He suspected drug use though he could not place the drug in question without testing her. Her hair had faded back to its natural tone and the nose piercing was gone. She was scowling at the camera clearly filled with rage.

Hale spoke the words leaving him before he could stop them  “I tried to get her to press charges against the bastard. I tried to convince her that he was taking her down a bad path. He had her under some kind of spell or something I don’t know…She left town a few months after that last arrest. Rumors around town said that she was seen using a phone booth near main street looking worse for wear. Her father picked her up and got her out of town.”

Hale took a deep breath, his words harsh he tearing his eyes from the mugshot. “Y/N’s past has no bearing on anything. She has straightened herself out. She’s taken over her father’s business and has stayed on the straightened arrow. She’s grown up.”

“Maybe so…those empty graves that were found back in the cemetery months ago do seem fishy though…given the bodies that disappeared from the Sons warehouse right around the time those bodies from the empty graves were found out in Lodi. Those empty graves were filled by Miss. Y/L/N’s funeral home. Lodi cops seem to have lost steam for the case…and they were satisfied with Miss. Y/L/N’s statements about the incident. Does seem interesting that she comes back to town and just so happens to get involved with a member of SAMCRO right around the time that this whole grave robbing and disappearing bodies situation happens. How convenient for SAMCRO.”

Hale cleared his throat knowing he had his own suspicions about Y/N’s involvement, but he could admit he was choosing to live in denial over the reality of the situation.

He would be lying if he tried to claim he didn’t think of Y/N and didn’t feel some sense of fondness for her.

In some way he still remembered her as the talkative little girl who followed her brother and he around when they were kids.

He thought of her as the lonely child who according to his younger sister never could fit in with their peers.

He'd always felt a sense of care for Y/N none the less. He could remember her being vibrant and brave. She was at times a little too fierce and so unapologetic that it bordered on being rude. He could remember finding the quality somewhat admirable though; her willingness to be so brazen.

As she’d grown she’d seemed determined to follow her brother’s path in the company she kept. Hale had been displeased by her rebellion. He had hoped that her brother's accident would scare her straight but it seemed to push her into a life of chaos. She'd clung to the men who her brother had once run amuck with.

Jackson Teller had seemed willing to take Y/N under his wing and lead her to destruction.

Hale would be lying if he tried to claim he didn’t feel slightly disturbed as he stood aside and watched Y/N grow into an attractive young woman who seemed to be all too comfortable around the local outlaw MC. He’d maybe gone out of his way back then to try to coax her into understanding that she was down a bad path. He'd been a rookie cop back then and had been all too aware of Y/N's bad behavior. He'd tried to reason with her using his past friendship with her brother to coax her into getting on the right path. When Gunner had gotten involved with her that coaxing had increased but Y/N had practically spit in Hale’s face at his attempts to rescue her from her situation.

He’d been grateful when she'd left town. He'd hoped that she was getting her head on straight. When she came back to town Hale had hopes that she’d grown up in her time away. He’d been relieved when it seemed she’d turned over a new leaf.

Hale could admit that he'd been hopeful that she was done with bad boys in kuttes.

He could also admit that he'd felt a sense of attraction for the young woman who had returned to run her father's funeral home. She seemed a far cry from the angry young woman who used to run around with the MC.

He had been stunned to realize that he no longer viewed her as his old childhood friend's rebellious baby sister. She had grown into an elegant young woman who was dedicated to a respectful career.

He had hopes that perhaps her taste in men had matured as well along with the more sophisticated appearance she'd adopted.

He’d maybe even tried to ask her to dinner or coffee once or twice but she’d rejected the offers. He’d told himself not to take offense to her rejection. He'd decided that perhaps Y/N was going through a difficult time, losing her father and being back in a town she probably was not thrilled to be in.

He had told himself to bide his time and be patient. He had hopes that perhaps she would settle into town and then maybe be more inclined to give him at least one date.

He had hopes that perhaps he could shoot his shot with her again, but had his hopes dashed when she clearly became involved with SAMCRO once again. 

When he’d realized she’d chosen Filip Chibs Telford of all men, Hale had been disgusted. The older Scotsman seemed so wrong for her, and she seemed blind to this fact.

It was kind of insulting realizing she'd turned Hale down and chosen Chibs Telford. Though, Hale had a feeling he'd be insulted if she'd chosen any Son after rejecting him more than once.

It was as though Stahl could read his mind because she spoke all too giddy to pull out another file from the stack. “It seems Miss. Y/L/N still favors a bad boy in a kutte and she still likes her men older. Filip Chibs Telford is an interesting man. He has past rumored ties to the True IRA. He’s been arrested a few times in Belfast, but nothing could ever stick. His wife though…he’s still very much married by the way…is True IRA Royalty. Fiona Larkin is third generation True IRA. She got Telford involved in the cause. They were childhood sweethearts from what I know. The two were living as a married couple for a few years before they had their daughter. They have one child, Kerrianne Larkin Telford. She’s about twelve going on thirteen. Looks like they were a happy little family of terrorists for a few years at least. That changed most likely when one Jimmy O’Phalen rose up in the ranks of the cause. Looks like Jimmy O’ didn’t seem to be a fan of Telford. Rumors have it that O’Phalen scarred Telford’s cheeks and took his family as his own…banished Telford from the cause and Ireland. Telford fell in with SAMBEL…guess he didn’t take the threat to get out of Belfast too seriously though it looks like he only remained in Ireland with SAMBEL for a couple of years…he patched over to SAMCRO right around the Spring of 2000. He rolled into town a few months after Miss. Y/L/N left town…can you imagine if he’d made it stateside a few months before she left…the pair would have found each other sooner. Either way it looks like the pair found each other. I spotted them out and about the other day and by the look of affection I spotted him giving her, I would guess Y/N has been given ol lady status by Telford. She doesn't appear to be sporting the crow ink some of the other ol ladies are, but all the same...the looks he was giving her screamed love…do have to wonder if she knows he’s married.”

She paused watching Hale’s jaw tense a smirk crossing her lips before she spoke again. “She knows how to pick them doesn't she? I bet Telford gives Y/N all sorts of juicy bits of pillow talk…sweet little tight thing like her must make him all relaxed and satisfied enough to get those lips moving. Pussy gets men talking; especially trusted pussy that they love. Judging by the looks Telford gives her around town; he’s dedicated. Given his traumatic past and his appearance, I bet it wasn’t hard to get him dedicated. I have a feeling that Y/N doesn’t have to do much to get him talking. Bet she only has to suck him off to get all sorts of information out of him.”

“She’s not going to say a word, if she is an ol lady, she’s been given the orders on how to handle questions about the club. Even if Chibs is giving her details she won’t betray him.” Hale snapped trying to push thoughts of Y/N and Chibs doing anything slightly sexual from his head, the thought feeling him with both disgust and envy of what the Scotsman managed to have with Y/N.

Stahl shrugged her shoulders as she spoke. “Even if she doesn’t know he’s still married? Bet if we dropped some truth on her about her boyfriend’s current marital status, we might get her pissed off enough to run her mouth. If he betrayed her then well…hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

“And if she knows he’s married.” Hale remarked what Stahl was suggesting make bile rise in the back of his throat. Call it a crush or fondness or whatever, but he didn’t like the idea of breaking Y/N’s heart to get information.

“If the tart is fine with being a mistress then I’m sure we can find some other way to get her lips moving. It doesn’t hurt to give her some pressure and see how she handles it.” Stahl provided a smirk crossing her lips at the rage in Hale’s eyes at the statement about Y/N being a tart.

She spoke again, a chuckle leaving her. “Don’t look so gloomy David, this might work in your favor. We get Telford out of the picture and you might just have a shot. Maybe we push her off bad boys, you can play white knight. You can finally put those handcuffs to use with her in a far more pleasant environment. Of course that might put a stop to the fun we’ve been having together hmm, but who am I to stand in the way of true love.”

He scoffed at the comment, his shoulders tensing at the suggestion as well as the implication of what Stahl and he had fallen into.

Stahl let out a sigh. “She can have you when I’m done. Trust me David, we can always press the ol ladies. No information is useless in RICO.”

Hale cringed at the comment, his stomach turning at this plan. 

He took a deep breath, having the feeling that Stahl was in for a challenge. Y/N was a tough nut to crack. 

Pissed off Y/N didn’t run her mouth. She just lashed out.

—----------------------------------------------

Y/N was surprised and relieved to see the roses left on her parent’s gravestones. She could admit she’d not been to the graveside since her father’s burial.

She’d been to the cemetery plenty enough thanks to her work…but she’d not had the nerve to walk over to the section where quite a few of her family were laid to their final rests.

Her paternal ancestors and their spouses were all buried close by one another. The oldest section of the cemetery held her oldest ancestors and their offspring. 

She knew that one day she herself would most likely be buried here alongside her family. There were already two plots at her parents' side that technically belonged to her.

Her father was always one to plan ahead when it came to funerals and had purchased the plots remarking Y/N could keep them for Daniel and herself or if she married and wanted to be buried with her future spouse she could sell her plot.

She had rolled her eyes at the comment about marriage of course. The idea had seemed preposterous given her tumultuous dating history and how most men who might be ideal for a future spouse showed her little interest aside from gazing longingly at her body.

She’d dated a few guys out in New York. She’d even had one pretty serious boyfriend but it had fizzled out before any serious talk about marriage and the future had come to fruition.

She knew her past held her back in her relationships in New York. How was she supposed to explain her past with the MC in Charming to prospective life partners?

She knew her most recent ex-boyfriend had some suspicions about her past…given her tendency to occasionally flinch during moments of intimacy that got a little too rough. She had never worked up the nerve to go into the full story though. She had a feeling her ex had sensed her trauma but had not been equipped to deal with it when she’d shut down any pleas for information about her past.

She was not quite ready to go into her background with that boyfriend. She was certain he couldn’t handle her past. So, she’d pushed him away the same way she did with most boyfriends. Scaring guys and pushing them out with cold behavior was easier than going into detail about her time as a friend of SAMCRO and the pain she’d endured at Gunner’s hands.

Chibs Telford was the first romantic partner who had any knowledge of what Gunner had done to her as well as her past sexual encounters with both Jax and a few other men.

She was stunned by Chibs’ reaction. He not only still wanted her, but had proven to her that he desired her.

It was not an outcome she had imagined when she’d allowed herself to imagine what might happen if she were to ever reveal the darker parts of her past to a man who liked her.

She kept thinking back to the words Chibs had said to her after he’d eaten her out; that he wanted to show her how she deserved to be treated.

It was a new and exciting concept to her; being treated well by a romantic partner.

She hoped that she’d proven to him that she wanted to treat him in kind. She couldn’t help but to think that with his own traumas he deserved to be reminded of how he deserved to be treated as well. 

She’d been more certain that he deserved all the tenderness and adoration on the planet by his reaction to the knowledge that she was planning on going to the gravesite today.

He’d offered to come along with her. He’d wanted to provide her with emotional support when she’d admitted she’d not gone to her parents' gravesite since her father’s funeral.

Y/N could admit she’d been tempted to let him tag along.

She’d resisted the urge to allow it though. She’d told herself that her first visit to the gravesite should be on her own.

Perhaps in the future though; she might let Chibs come with her.

A morbid voice in the back of her head told her it was the most depressing bring the guy you like home to meet the parents' situation, but she shushed the voice. 

She was also overtaken with the realization that she was an orphan now. She had no living parents…so that made her an orphan didn’t it?

A voice in the back of her head told her it was a dumb thought…everyone became an orphan at some point in their lives, so it wasn’t something that was that unique.

She shifted the red roses aside placing the daisies she’d purchased on either parent’s grave.

She had a feeling the roses left on each grave had been Old Charlie’s doing. Roses seemed more his taste than Skeeter’s.

She was not surprised to see that the graves had been well maintained, any flowers that had been left at her father’s funeral being taken away after they’d wilted. The area was clean and polished waiting for her.

She had a feeling that this was both Old Charlie’s and Skeeter’s doing. The men had most likely been out to the gravesite maintaining it until she felt ready to make it out. It was clear that they’d cared enough about her to make it neat and ready for her.

She found herself sitting on the ground directly in front of her father’s tombstone not caring if the dirt below her got her jeans somewhat dirty. It would be a long while before grass grew over the filled in grave. Grass had long ago grown over her mother’s filled in grave given that the woman had died when Y/N was so young.

She sighed, her eyes lingering on her mother’s tombstone for a brief moment. She rarely visited it. Her father had been the one who had gone out to maintain it.

She’d gone once or twice when she was a teenager looking for some maternal connection that she’d craved. She felt foolish for the action knowing she would not find that connection in a cold marble tombstone.

Her mother’s full name was written on the dark marble stone in neat font: Caroline Hope Y/L/N. Beloved Wife and Mother. Her birthdate and death date were written below the inscription. A small dove had been carved into the edge of the stone. It was a simple stone and Y/N had been certain her father had struggled to choose it as he’d planned her mother’s entire funeral.

She’d never quite understood how he’d had the mental strength to embalm and bury the woman he loved, but Y/N assumed that in her father’s mind it was just the last act of love he could give his wife. He’d made sure she was cared for. Y/N could distinctly remember seeing the clothing her mother had been buried in…a modest blue sundress with a white floral print and a pearl necklace. She had only been four then, but somehow her mother’s funeral dress was a core memory that had stuck. Her father had allowed Daniel and her to view their mother in the casket at the funeral. Daniel had run away from it but Y/N had remained staring at the woman. 

She was unsure if she loved or hated her father’s choice of giving her this core memory.

She tore her eyes from her mother’s tombstone, hating to admit she felt disconnected from the woman. Y/N felt a sense of love knowing that this was her mother, but she didn’t remember her clearly enough to feel the sense of grief she told herself she should feel.

She’d always held the thought in; certain it would upset her father. Her mother had been the love of her father’s life. She’d been his first and his last everything.

They’d met as teenagers and were one another’s first love. Her mother’s father had worked the funeral circuit preaching around Charming and surrounding towns and he’d brought his daughter along. Y/N’s father had been the funeral director’s son. 

Y/N’s parents had met for the first time at a funeral. It was not the most romantic meet-cute, but it was her parents. 

Her father had never remarried after her mother’s death. He’d not even dated. He’d remained dedicated to her even in death.

When Y/N was younger she’d hoped that she might be lucky enough to find love that deep with someone. 

As she’d gotten older though she’d become jaded by the concept.

She sighed, staring at her father’s tombstone, the dark marble was simple with her father's name engraved into the stone: Lloyd Oliver Y/L/N. Beloved Father. Dedicated Husband. Respected Mortician. 

The last addition had been her father’s request. Even in death he was proud of his profession.

She felt her throat grow tight telling herself this would feel cathartic even if she was just talking to a marble stone. “I’m sorry I haven’t been out here to visit…I’m actually sorry for a lot of things I’ve done lately.”

She clasped her hands together wringing them, her voice tense. “I can say without any hesitation that if you were still here right now…that saying sorry wouldn’t be enough with what I’ve done. I know how proud you were of our work…how proud you were that I followed you into the work you loved. I’m afraid I’ve sullied it though. You would hate what I’ve done…I fucked it up again, just like I always do. You know me; family disappointment as usual.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, her voice soft. “I’m sorry though, I really really am. I went down a path you’d hate. I got greedy and now I can’t get out of this…the sick thing is I was given a possible way out of it by Filip and I told him no. I am so desperate to burn in the hell of my own making. I…maybe I just like the pain. I think I deserve it in some sick way. How else do you explain why I’m so impulsive? I let the flame burn me and I never figure out that fire hurts…maybe I know it hurts but some part of me likes it. Maybe I’m sick? You did always worry about me…when I was a kid, I was way too interested in your job…Remember that teacher I had in elementary��fourth grade…she thought I was disturbed because I talked about your job so much…maybe I am. I mean what kind of person is so willing to do what I’ve done? What kind of girl prefers the company of the dead because the living scare the hell out of her? Maybe people around town are right about me? I’ve had a few boyfriends in New York tell me I’m not normal. Maybe at the end of the day I’m not right in the head…maybe I’m fucked mentally. How else do you explain the choices I make? I’ve always been quick to anger, too depressed, too impulsive, too starved for risk. I never know what’s good for me. I’ve had nice guys ask me out…back in New York…hell even Deputy Hale tried to take me to dinner pretty soon after I got into town… and I would rather scoop my eyes out with a melon baller than let a nice guy love me. I push people away because it protects me. I go for guys who don’t deserve me…I go for what hurts me. I let someone like Gunner violate me more than once and I stuck around. Maybe my brain is just abnormal.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I always felt bad for you…two bad kids. How could such a nice guy have such bad kids? I used to blame you for it when you’d scold me for whatever crap I had pulled…say that you were too damn nice and that was probably why I was so rotten. I tried to say that maybe if you were less focused on your job and more focused on Danny and me then we’d not have turned out so bad. I know it was unfair to turn it back on you. I think I was parroting the perceptions I heard from people around town though…poor charitable respected Lloyd Y/L/N dedicated to his service to the community but cursed with two ungrateful brats. You were always fighting to keep me out of jail or worse…always dealing with Danny’s health after the accident…always trying to balance the job with making sure your kids stayed alive. I know Danny and I both gave you hell…You died thinking that I was finally done giving you hell…but surprise.”

She let out a shaky sigh, her fingers reaching out to trace the birth and death date on the tombstone. “You died thinking SAMCRO was a thing of my past…you thought your biker whore daughter had finally grown up…I know you’d hate me for calling myself that. You never were fond of my choice in language especially when I used it to degrade myself. I know I always tried to take some high ground and claim that I was nothing like the girls that hung around the MC and threw themselves at anything in a kutte…was I really any better though at the end of the day? I may have been a bit more discerning in who I fucked but…I still liked a man in a kutte and a criminal record a mile long. I loved the danger…I loved the chaos. Nice guys who worked nine to five jobs just didn’t do it for me like the outlaws could. I wasn’t satisfied with a dick unless the guy attached to it had a rap sheet.”

She rolled her eyes, the words leaving her. “I know…just what every man wants to hear about, his daughter’s sex life. I guess you aren’t really here to hear it though…I hope you’re not hanging around watching me that much. That would be kind of creepy if you were just hanging around watching me 24-7.”

She let out another shaky breath as she spoke. “I met someone…Jesus, Daddy, you’d hate Filip. You would take one look at the reaper on his back and kill him on sight. You’d ship me back to New York if you were still here. You would not even give Filip a minute of your time to even attempt to win you over. You would look at his appearance and who he is and want me to get away from him. You’d see the scars on his cheeks and the kutte on his back and that would be that, no chance of accepting him.”

She shook her head, a small humorless laugh leaving her. “I know the age difference would make you less than enthusiastic. He’s forty five years old…just turned forty five. He was about sixteen when I was born. If that wasn’t enough to make you cringe…He’s got a wife and a kid back in Belfast…they’re estranged but they are still there…You’d take one look at those facts and shoot him on sight. I’m sure you’d take me for a fool…your poor damaged daughter hooked up with the married outlaw biker who is way too old for her…and if that didn’t piss you off you’d be so enraged about his past in Belfast even if I’d lie and try to tell you it's only rumors. I know you would just look at Filip and see danger. You’d see a guy who is going to destroy your kid. You wouldn’t think he’s good enough.”

She traced her father’s name, her voice soft. “I know what I’d say to you though. I’d say that he's good enough. I would tell you I don’t care about Belfast or who lives there…The age difference doesn’t bother me. I’d probably try to push your buttons and spit out some bullshit about how I am happy to call Filip Daddy even if he’s not quite old enough for that unless he was a teen dad. I’d probably tell you that a man his age has the experience to know how to make me feel so good, that he’s far more gifted in bed than guys my age.”

She paused, rolling her eyes. “I never was appropriate and I kind of lived to make you cringe back when I was having my rebellious years. I figured out that being vulgar and oversharing about anything sexual could make you back off and not suspect the reality of what I was going through. I was always capable of looking like a proper lady but my mouth and my tendency to love shocking people always ruined the prim lady disguise I wear.”

She cleared her throat, her words genuine. “I would be telling you the truth about him being worthy of me…he reminds me everyday that he wants to be worthy of having me. He’s tried pretty damn hard to woo me. I think even you’d be approving of the effort he’s put into it…the man didn’t run screaming when I told him what a trocar was. That’s impressive, you’d have to admit it. He asks me questions about my job; not to appease me or charm me, but because he wants to hear what I have to say. He’s been good to me. He makes me feel safe. I don’t think anyone has ever made me feel safe…at least not a romantic partner. I’ve never felt this protected with anyone.”

She felt her throat grow tight, spilling more of her heart. “I told him about Gunner…told him more than I even dared to ever tell anyone…even you. Pretty sure he’s the first person besides a therapist who knows all the details. I told him every last detail. He didn't run away like I feared he would. I was sure he’d run…or worse he’d look at me differently…like I am in fact just the biker groupie everyone around town thought I was back then. I was afraid if he knew about Gunner and the others…that he would surely leave. I mean…how is a guy supposed to cope with the fact that some of the men he shares a kutte with have fucked the girl he’s dating…how is he supposed to deal with the fact that one of those men, even if it’s a man in another charter…did what he did to me…I don’t know, I’ve always struggled with admitting what the lack of consent with Gunner meant…saying the word. Filip is the one who said the word…told me how wrong it was…even told me he wanted Gunner dead for what he did to me. I expected my past to be too much for him or for him to develop this weird jealousy issue…you know how guys are when they know someone else has touched their possessions… Filip though, his reaction was to feel sorrow for me…he wanted to show me what being shown love is supposed to feel like…he wanted to protect me and get retribution for what happened to me. He offered to kill for me, Daddy…and he meant it. I know you’d probably not approve of the fact that he’s capable of such a thing…but I’d have to hope that you’d approve of his desire to keep me safe…to love me. Filip doesn’t view me as a possession. I know you’d find that really really hard to believe…men in his world have some pretty fucked views of women. I’m not claiming he’s some abnormality in that world. I just think I’m as much Filip’s as he’s mine though.”

She sighed knowing she was safe to say the words here with no one to listen. “I love him…I love Filip Telford. He doesn’t know about it yet…I’m half afraid to tell him. What if he doesn’t feel the same? I keep thinking of what you’d say…you’d probably tell me that if he’s dumb enough not to love me then he’s too dumb for me. I need him to love me though…it sounds so pathetic to say it…I've never claimed to need anyone to love me...I have always been the type to say that people can love me or hate me and I don't give a damn either way...I like to think I’m independent…that I could go back to life before I met him…I, so much has changed in my life so fast over these past months. I resisted his affections so much when I first met him...I was afraid of what he'd lead me to...of falling back in with SAMCRO. He's made it clear though that he has zero intention of leading me back into the pain that I found with his world...I’m scared of how my life has changed over these past few months, of how things have changed since you died and I came back home, but Filip…he makes it feel so much less scary. I’ve opened up to him so much about my past and I have never felt comfortable enough with anyone to do that. I don't feel so alone with him around. I've never felt that...belonging. I always try to pretend that I don't mind being alone. I try to say that loneliness is just a part of life...Filip makes me want to stop isolating myself...and not accept the idea that I just have to be alone. I have never had that with anyone...the sense that they feel lucky to have me around...the acceptance of me for who I am. I don't have to pretend not to be so morbid or so quick to anger. I don't feel like I have to hide the parts of me that scare other people around Filip. I need him more than he knows. I just keep hoping that maybe he needs me just as bad.”

She shook her head reaching up to wipe at a stray tear threatening to spill from her eye. "I can’t say that you’d be fond of Filip… I can’t say you two would love each other, or even try to pretend to get along…but I think that maybe my loving him would be enough for you…I think me being happy with him would be enough. You always worried about my happiness…about me finding my place in the world. I want to be in his world…it scares me, but I trust that he would keep me safe.”

She spoke again, pulling her hand back from the stone. “I’m going to visit more often…even if you aren’t here, I know you’re not really here…I want to bring Filip sometime. He wants to come with me…to support me. I’m going to let him. I am letting him in…you’d like that…me letting someone in.”

She adjusted the daisies in front of the stone as she spoke. “Even if you wouldn’t be proud of me, I hope you’d still love me. You told me once that a father never stops loving his child. I hope that’s true.”

She stood up, wiping the dirt from her jeans as she spoke. “I love you, Daddy. I’ll see you later.”

She turned ready to make the long trek back to her car hoping that she could maybe get a latte somewhere to perk up enough to make it to the grocery store to gather the items she needed for the week.

She paused as a woman approached her. The professional looking woman was thin and tall with straight dark blonde hair and a pantsuit that screamed Fed. She appeared to be in her mid thirties at least. Her lips were thin and she wore little makeup. She had a narrow straight nose and well manicured brows. Her eyes were dark and they were fixed on Y/N.

She felt a chill run down her spine as the woman approached her giving a calm smile that did not match the intensity of her gaze. “Y/N Y/L/N?”

Y/N nodded her head, her voice tense, she doing her best to appear relaxed and calm. “Speaking.”

The woman pulled a badge from her jacket pocket revealing that Y/N was right to think fed. “Agent June Stahl, ATF.”

Y/N sighed  keeping that same relaxed demeanor as she spoke. “Can I help you Agent Stahl?”

“I’m guessing you aren’t here on business? More of a personal visit?” Stahl asked, nodding down at the dark wash jeans and gray babydoll tee Y/N was wearing. 

Y/N spoke her stomach turning at Stahl’s avoidance of the question. “I’m not here for work.”

She paused speaking again trying to sound more assertive than she felt. “How can I help you?”

Stahl spoke as she shoved her badge back into her jacket pocket. “What do you know about SAMCRO?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at the question. Stahl apparently was ready to jump right into it. She shrugged her shoulders giving the company line Chibs had taught her to give though she’d known the line long before Chibs and she had become involved. “That motorcycle club? Pretty sure they’re just a bunch of mechanics who are motorcycle enthusiasts. Pretty sure they throw a good wild party.”

Stahl smirked at the comment, not surprised by it. “Of course, Didn’t you used to be a frequent attendee of those wild parties?”

Y/N shifted in place, her arms crossing over her chest. “I did use to prefer Jack Daniels to mint tea. Didn’t everyone have a rebellious phase?”

Stahl nodded her head, not missing the chance. “And what a phase it was for you. I have to say I’m kind of annoyed but impressed, Y/N, several arrests under your belt and you served not a moment in a real jail cell. Looks like you got more than a few slaps on the wrist though…guess it helps that your daddy was buddy buddy with the local sheriff.”

Y/N held her head up high fast to respond, keeping her voice even refusing to address how her father had always been willing to appeal to Unser to keep her out of any real trouble. “I am not proud of my past behavior. If I could go back I’d change a few things.”

“Is SAMCRO one of those things you might change? I have taken a look at that rap sheet of yours, sweetheart, looks like the innocent club of motorcycle enthusiasts got you into some trouble back in the day.” Stahl remarked, stepping closer to Y/N.

Y/N stepped back a frown crossing her features. “Like I said, I indulged a little too hard back then…people do dumb shit when they’re drunk.”

“Is one of those dumb things Nathaniel Papadopoulos? Or Gunner…as he seems to insist on being called?” Stahl remarked not shy about bringing up something that she knew would make Y/N cringe.

The mention of Gunner did just that. Y/N crossed her arms tighter, her voice picking up a hint of tension. “I did dumb shit when I drank as much as I did. He was the dumbest. I was nineteen years old when I met him…I wasn’t mature enough to pick romantic partners who were the best for me. Pretty sure most nineteen year olds pick shit men. I wised up and left him. It’s ancient history at this point in my life.”

“What about now? Just what kind of men are you picking?” Stahl remarked a cool smile crossing her lips as she attempted to prod the answer from Y/N.

Y/N sighed fast to respond. “Ones who don’t beat the shit out of me.”

Stahl reached into the professional looking messenger bag she had slung around her arm as she spoke, pulling out a file. “You do pick men with records though. You should have a peek at his.”

She handed the file to Y/N watching as the woman gazed down at it searching for any hint of a chance to pounce. 

Y/N gazed down at the open file in front of her, raising a brow at what was clearly Chibs’ rap sheet. She shrugged her shoulders, keeping her calm not bothering to read past a few lines not shocked by what she saw. “Is this supposed to mean something to me?”

Stahl smirked, nodding her head down at the file as she spoke. “Filip Chibs Telford is an interesting man isn't he…if you believe the rumors around town…I find that most rumors have some truth to them.”

She paused nodding down at the file again as she spoke. “You should flip to page two…the arrests in Belfast. He was court martialed and discharged from the Queens Armed Forces at nineteen. Looks like he had a temper in his youth. The arrests in Belfast continue from there. Pretty sure he got into a few brawls on the behalf of the cause…The True IRA tends to frown upon anyone they think may be a loyalist. Looks like Telford took offense to loyalty to the crown, looks like he was not afraid to fight dirty…then there’s the suspicion of a few bombings that he may or may not have been involved in, can’t get a clear answer on that one. Any investigations went nowhere…There were a few rumors about how he may have taken part in the murder of a Northern Irish police officer but there was never any proof to tie him and his associates to it…speaking of his associates in Belfast…his wife…Fiona, she’s definitely True IRA through and through. Third generation, comes by it honestly. Her mugshot is on page three…she got arrested with her husband for one of those brawls I talked about. She is a fiery one…darker than I expected though for an Irishwoman. Pretty sure she’s the Black Irish we always hear about.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop turning the page on autopilot gazing down at the pretty young woman in the photo and a photo of a young Chibs, his face free from the scars that Jimmy O’ had left him with.

Fiona was an elegant looking woman with wild dark curls and piercing dark eyes. Her nose was narrow and her lips were pressed into a smirk that showed she had no worries about having any mugshot taken. She gave off the energy of someone who was well versed in danger and quite content to invoke it if necessary.

Stahl spoke up, a slight smirk on her lips clearly hoping to strike a nerve. “You did know he’s married right?”

Y/N glanced up at Stahl, her face not giving the reaction the woman was probably hoping for. She kept her cool not letting the information of what Chibs had done in Belfast nor the photo of his estranged wife rattle her. “Yes, I was aware. They’re estranged. Divorce unfortunately is not an option…You know how the Catholics are? I’m afraid I don’t know too much about Filip’s years in Belfast aside from the mundane fact that he was a mechanic and that he left some tragedy behind.”

If Stahl was disappointed in Y/N’s reaction she didn’t reveal it as she replied to the comment. “Yes, a true tragedy. I guess you’ve heard all the rumors that fly around Belfast…Jimmy O’Phalen took Fiona and Chibs’ and her daughter for his own…left Telford with a reminder to not even attempt to get them back.”

Y/N clenched down on the file as Stahl motioned to her cheeks lining them along where Chibs’ scars were embedded into his cheeks. She spoke again, a sigh leaving her. “Telford joined up with SAMBEL after that…Guess he was familiar with the MC before hand, so, they were happy to take him on...even though rumor has it O’Phalen banished him from Ireland…guess the banishment finally kicked in though since Telford came stateside back in 2000. He hasn’t seen Fiona or his daughter since Kerrianne was around four. I’m amazed Telford got citizenship in the states…given his record and the trouble he’s gotten into out here.”

Y/N kept her voice flat as she replied. “America is the land of opportunity.”

“That it is…and what opportunity has he found with you?” Stahl dared to ask a small smile crossing her lips hoping to make Y/N squirm.

Y/N spoke knowing the line to give a hint of snark in her voice, deciding that being vulgar might work in her favor. “I open his beers and suck his dick. Pretty sure most men couldn’t ask for more.”

“And what does he say when you wrap those soft lips of yours around that dick of his?” Stahl remarked, proving she was just as vulgar.

Y/N gave her a smile that she hoped read as confident not above continuing with the line of conversation though she was full of shit…they’d not gone that far sexually just yet. “Pretty sure he’s too busy moaning when I take him down my throat. That Scottish accent of his is hard enough to understand on its own…the second he gets is dick wet I may as well not even try to decipher Glaswegian.”

“And what about afterwards…any juicy bits of pillowtalk? Orgasms tend to make lips loose, I find.” Stahl dared to ask she stepping even closer to Y/N.

Y/N gave her a calm smile, the words sliding from her. “He tends to start snoring after he cums…You know men. You rock their world and they reward you by conking out.”

She paused lying through her teeth deciding that playing up the sexual role would work in her favor. 

It was a game she’d learned to play during her time in the clubhouse…when she wanted to entice a man into giving her what she wanted. 

She found that playing the minx could work in her favor with men and could make straight women intimidated enough to slink back. “I will say that that is the one advantage to getting your rocks off with a woman. Women are a little better at pillowtalk…too bad I like a good thick dick more than a nice wet pussy.”

Stahl smirked giving Y/N a reaction that she’d expected to get if she’d been talking to a man. She sighed, the realization hitting her that Stahl was playing on both teams. She recognized a raging bisexual when she saw one. “I can only imagine…what a shame you have your preferences.”

Y/N spoke as she stepped back, dropping the flirty tone from her voice. “I don’t know too much about SAMCRO. I can’t imagine they’re too interesting. Just a bunch of mechanics who love a good Harley and a crazy party…Like I said, any trouble they may find is usually aided by booze…people do dumb shit when they drink. I’m afraid my party days are over. Most people don’t like the idea of the local undertaker sliding around a stripper pole in a biker clubhouse. Pretty sure Filip would not be too into the idea of seeing me on any pole unless he’s the only one watching.”

“I’ll say it again, what a shame.” Stahl remarked that smirk still on her lips though Y/N did spot a hint of annoyance in the woman’s eyes at the fact that Y/N was still feeding the company line on SAMCRO.

She paused speaking again. “Telford and you make an interesting pair…a funeral director and a biker…just how did you meet?”

Y/N gave her a calm smile, the lie sliding from her lips. “My Acura got a flat tire. We got to talking and one thing led to another. I’ve always had a thing for accents.”

Stahl spoke up, nodding over Y/N shoulder at the gravestones. “You came back to Charming to a big mess from what I heard. Your father left you with some debt?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Y/N remarked her voice cool and collected she snapping the folder she’d been holding shut.

Stahl nodded her head at the comment she daring to bring out the big guns. “I’ve taken a peek at those debts of yours. You paid a little chunk of them off in cash…Just where did you get the cash? The payment was in the thousands. Lots of cash to having lying around with your debts.”

Y/N remembered the lie Chibs had told her to tell. She was relieved he’d given her enough background about Clay and Gemma’s finances, so that she could tell a believable story.  “Gemma Teller Morrow asked for my expertise. Her poor grandson having such a frightful entrance into the world got her thinking about her own mortality. Her husband and she were willing to pay me quite well for my time to discuss plans. They know my time is valuable and they took up quite a bit of it…They were willing to make it worth my while as they kept me so busy and out of reach from any of my other duties at work…pretty sure Gemma has some oil investments that give her some nice payouts. I came to them for the plans…made a trip out to the garage to discuss it all and went through the trouble of bringing all of the catalogs I have. They choose a luxury option for their caskets…mahogany and satin. I don’t do home visits for funeral planning, so they wanted to make sure I was compensated for the exception I made for them. They paid me double my usual rate plus travel expenses.”

“That is an extravagant payout.” Stahl remarked her tone of voice hinting she did not buy Y/N’s tale.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, her voice calm knowing she sounded heartless, but it was better to sound heartless than guilty. “People will pay anything to have peace of mind when it comes to death.”

Stahl dared to speak, nodding again at the cemetery around them. “I would have thought they might shy away from using your services…given what happened to those two men you buried a while back.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh shaking her head. “The grave robberies were an unfortunate incident. The families of those poor men were heartbroken over what happened to their loved ones' remains. I did everything in my power to make sure that they were cared for. The family was far more understanding than they had to be. They know I did my part when it came to the care of their loved ones before their final rests were disturbed. I hope the Lodi police find whoever was responsible for such a gruesome act. If I got my hands on them…well let’s just say I don’t approve of anyone fucking with my paychecks.”

Stahl smirked, hating to admit she was impressed with how quick the response was. Y/N was not an easy nut to crack. “And your boyfriend had nothing to do with those empty graves.”

“Why would Filip have anything to do with it? He’s just a mechanic.” Y/N remarked a small laugh leaving her she managing to make the accusation appear as though it sounded ridiculous to her.

“A mechanic with quite the record. You should hang on to that file, Y/N. Take a good look at it. There’s some really interesting bits of information there. Filip Telford is far from innocent. I think you are smart enough to know that. I am also thinking you aren’t so innocent either…that must be why he’s so obsessed with you. If that wife of his is any indication of the kind of woman he likes…then you are one bad girl.” Stahl remarked, nodding down to the folder still in Y/N’s hands.

Y/N gave Stahl a calm smile shrugging her shoulders. “I’m an absolute angel, Agent Stahl.”

She paused, giving the agent a flirty smile as she stepped around her ready to pass. “At least outside the bedroom. Now, if you excuse me. I have some errands to attend to. If you have any further questions you can find me at the funeral home.”

And with that Y/N found herself heading back to her car the folder she held clutched tightly in her hand.

She couldn’t decide if she wanted to burn the folder or not.

—-------------------------------

Chibs sighed rolling his eyes at Juice as he rounded the billiards table for what felt like the hundredth time. 

He spoke nodding down at the pool cue in the younger man’s hands. “Are ya takin yer damn shot or not? I ain’ got all day, Juicey.”

Juice scowled at the older man, his voice tight. “We put money on this okay? I don’t trust you after last time. I still say you hustled me, talked that damn croweater into distracting me and putting me off my game.”

“Aint my fault yer a shite pool player. I won fair an square.” Chibs snapped back a small smirk on his lips knowing that he had maybe talked the buxom blonde croweater Juice was recalling into helping distract Juice from the game.

It hadn’t been too selfish in Chibs’ opinion. He got Juice laid.

Chibs sighed as his cell phone began to chime he yanking it from his kutte knowing he might as well have a phone call since Juice was nowhere near getting on with the game.

He felt his heart lift at the familiar number as it flashed along his screen. He hit accept call, his voice becoming far more cheery than it had been moments before. “Hen, what are ye doin?”

“I need you, Filip.” She blurted out the comment striking him off guard.

The words were appealing but he was not hearing them in the context he would prefer. Her voice seemed panicked.

She spoke again knowing she sounded paranoid but a voice told her if Stahl was interested in her then who was to say that the feds hadn’t found a way to listen in on her calls. She had little idea how bugging phones worked outside of movies. “I need help with my lamb…seasoning it. You know what to do with lamb.”

Chibs furrowed his brow, thrown off even more by the comment. Y/N didn’t eat lamb.

He’d learned that bit of information when he’d mentioned Half Sack’s vegetarianism to Y/N as well as Gemma’s criticism of vegetarians. Y/N had commented that she was not a vegetarian and didn’t think she would be strong willed enough to be one. She did admit that she couldn’t bring herself to eat veal or lamb though. She had commented that she knew it was stupid as she’d eat the adult versions of cows at least…but she couldn’t get herself to eat lamb nor veal as they were both baby animals. He could remember finding the comment kind of sweet though amusing.

He felt his stomach turn it hitting him she was worried that someone was listening in on the conversation. 

He spoke trying to keep his calm and not fly off the handle at the thought. “Are ya safe, Love? Is anyone following ya? Are ya alone?”

“Yeah, no. You know it. I uh…just ran into someone while I was out…we got to talking as she reminded me of how much a pain lamb is to deal with. I know you know just what to do with lamb. So, I thought I’d call in the expert. I thought I might call Gemma about it…you remember what she told me about lamb back when we met to make those future funeral plans for Clay and her. I figured that you might be the person to go to though.” Y/N remarked still keeping her cool not helping but to feel like a moron for this entire charade.

She had a feeling that Chibs seemed to have caught up on the game though and was intelligent enough to decode what she was trying to say.

He spoke tossing the pool cue he’d been holding down on the table not caring if it scattered the balls and alarmed Juice. “Aye, I’ll be there, Hen. Don’t ya worry Mo ghràidh. I’ll handle the lamb fer ye.”

“Okay, be at my place…I’m headed there now.” She provided saying the remaining words in her head. I love you, Filip.

“Aye, I’ll be there soon.” He replied unaware that she was thinking the same thing he was currently thinking. I love you.

He hung up his cell sending Juice nod as he turned to leave. “Game’s over, Laddie. If Clay asks I’m goin to see my ol lady. Gotta help her with some lamb. Tell Gemma to give me a call. She knows what to do with lamb.”

Juice furrowed his brow as he watched Chibs leave the man not paying him any mind. He spoke to an empty clubhouse completely confused by the interaction. “Lamb?”

—----------------------------------------------

Her lips met his the second he walked in the door.

Chibs let himself into Y/L/N and Sons Funeral Home well past knocking and waiting for someone to allow him entrance.

He’d spent almost every night in the home this past week, so formalites like knocking had been forgotten.

He made his way upstairs nodding to Skeeter, the man giving him only rolled eyes in response.

As soon as Chibs stepped past the sliding door that led him into Y/N’s living quarters her lips met his in a bruising kiss.

He returned the kiss, his hands sliding along her body appreciating the figure he’d been shamefully admiring since their first meeting.

She pulled from his lips reluctantly, her voice sounding frantic now that she was far away from Agent Stahl. “An ATF agent ran into me at the cemetery today. Had some questions for me.”

“Shite, who was it?” Chibs dared to ask, having the feeling he already knew the answer.

Y/N took a deep breath trying to calm her anxieties. “Agent Stahl…fucking bitch tried to push my buttons by asking me about my past…Gunner and some other shit. She was eager to mention your wife…and shit that happened in Belfast. Tried to show me mugshots and your criminal record. She left a freaking file with me and told me to take a look at it so I could learn all about you. She’s trying to make me crack and run my mouth. Pretty sure she thinks that if she makes me afraid of you then I’ll turn and give her enough to go after SAMCRO.”

Chibs clenched his jaw, shaking his head, his hold on Y/N tightening. “What’d ye say?”

“I told her I know nothing about what you were up to in Belfast. I know about your wife and am unbothered by it. I know nothing about SAMCRO. I told her all I do is suck your dick and open your beers…I got pretty graphic on that last detail.”

Chibs smirked at the comment, his hand wandering down her body to give her backside a squeeze he was unable to stop himself. “Aye, ye ain given me that privilege yet, Hen. Probably had to use yer imagination on that one, aye?”

She sighed, shaking her head at the comment though it did make a hint of smile cross her features. “I thought the lewd angle would unnerve her…I have the weirdest sense that it turned her on. Pretty sure I can spot a bisexual from a mile away.”

Chibs rose a brow at the information. He spoke, shaking his head at the comment. “Ye know I would rather hear bout ye gettin a woman hot and bothered if she wasn’t a Fed.”

“I know you would…sadly I’m telling you what I told her…pussy doesn’t do it for me the same way a dick does. I have no interest in muff diving anytime soon, sorry to break your heart.” She commented, not shocked by this line of conversation. He truly was a male through and through.

“Aye, can’t say I’m disappointed…I don’t like sharin.” He remarked, surprising her by the certainty in his voice.

He sighed his hand running up and down her back as he spoke again. “Did ye look at the record? My rap sheet?”

“Not really…She mentioned a bunch of crap you pulled in Belfast. Saw a mugshot of Fiona and you…Stahl loved shoving that in my face. She tried to coax me into looking into the entire file.” Y/N explained noticing the tension in Chibs’ body at the mention of his estranged wife and of Belfast.

He felt his throat grow tight as he spoke again knowing that there was nothing he regretted in that file she was discussing. He had to fear that Y/N might find some things she was not pleased to learn about him…especially during his time with the cause. “Wouldn’t care if ye wanted to look at the entire file…ye probably should know bout the lad yer datin.” 

Y/N spoke so certain of the words that left her. “I know who I’m dating. I’m dating someone who has been so sweet and so protective of me right from the start. I’m dating someone who makes me laugh and as I recall eats me out like his life depends on it…which indicates he’s going to be pretty well versed in doing other things in the bedroom.”

She paused, pressing a kiss to his cheek catching the hitch in his breath at the mention of their bedroom activities. She spoke again, her voice soothing. “I’m dating a man who has known more pain than any human being should ever have to know, but still remains so strong and so compassionate. I’m dating a man who is loyal to his brothers and would do whatever it takes to protect what he believes in. I’m dating a guy who goes above and beyond to look out for me. He rushed all the way over here after I called him ranting about lamb like a nutcase…he offered to kill someone for me because he knows they caused me pain.”

She spotted his hold on her grew tighter at the mention of Gunner. She spoke once again, her lips pressing back to his cheek. “The man I’m dating has listened to me cry over my brother and my father on our first date and didn’t run screaming. He doesn’t care if my job scares the hell out of everyone. He treats me better than I ever believed I deserved. He proves to me each and every day that he wants me to be treated with all the adoration and security on the planet. He makes me feel safer than anyone has ever been capable of making me feel. I know just who I’m dating. I don’t need a criminal record to tell me a thing about him. I know who he is outside of shit he’s done.”

He sighed, his lips sliding along hers relief washing over him. She spoke as she pulled from the kiss her voice soft. “I don’t need a fucking ATF agent to tell me who I’m dating, because I know him better than she ever will.”

She spoke again, her voice firm. “I am not telling her shit. I’m sure it won’t be the last time she tries to press me over this. I know that ATF is up SAMCRO’s collective ass right now. I’m not telling her a thing though Filip.”

“Aye, I know, Hen. I trust ye. Ye did so good, Love. Fuckin gash doesn’ stand a chance with my lass.” Chibs praised her, the comment making Y/N preen somewhat. She was surprised by the feeling. She didn’t think she had a praise kink, but anything was possible.

He pressed a kiss to her lips he fast to speak again. “I want ye to keep tellin her the same thing, Hen. Ye don’t know shite. She ain’ got nothin on ye. She probably thought the fuckin life I was forced from in Belfast was some big secret I was keepin from ye.”

Y/N nodded her head knowing that was exactly what Stahl had been hoping for. She spoke a soft sigh leaving her. “She brought up the empty graves…Kept my story the same as always.”

“That’s my hen. Ye know yer in the clear on that mo ghràidh. Ye’d already be in handcuffs and been carted away if they had shite on that.” Chibs reassured her a sense of comfort washing over at at the words.

She knew he was right. It had been long enough. Lodi had left her alone and she had a feeling the ATF didn’t care about two empty graves when the local P.D. had failed to connect the dots between her, SAMCRO, and those bodies.

She had a feeling the ATF was more interested in the gun running that SAMCRO was secretly engaging in. 

Any pressure Stahl was placing on her was to entice her into slipping up and saying something Chibs had told her in confidence. She knew that the agent was getting nothing from her. 

Y/N would never betray the man she loved no matter how much Stahl irritated her and attempted to intimidate her.

She allowed her lips to slide along Chibs’ , the pair growing lost in the moment. She parted her lips from his knowing that there was only one thing she wanted at this moment that could make this day seem less awful. “I want you to take me to my room and love me so good that I forget all this crap.”

Chibs felt his heart rate increase at the comment, a warm flush of lust spreading throughout him. Was she offering what he hoped? “Aye, is that so? Are ye sure, Hen? Ye want it all?”

She nodded her head stunned at the realization of how badly she wanted this. She pressed her lips to his the kiss feather light before she spoke. “I am so sure. Take me to my room and love me Filip.”

He felt the moan leave his lips as she took his hands in hers leading him from the room to their destination. 

He knew he had every intention of giving her what she was asking for. 

He would give her anything. It was a realization he was quite content with.

[shinyrhinestones]

Say that you want me

Summary: Elle and Reader have been going on a few dates and have a relation thats not friendship, but its not a committed relationship either. Maybe jealousy will finally let you two find your way together completely.

Pairing: Elle Greenaway x Fem!reader

Genre: Fluff and maybe tiny bit angst.

Category: Oneshot.

Warnings: Kissing.

English isn't my mother tongue, so there will probably be some mistakes.

You've been on a few dates with Elle. The first time she was the one who asked you out. You remember being completely shocked, that Elle Greenaway was interested in you like that. It was easy for you, to know when a guy was interested in you, but when it came to women it was slightly harder. Girls are normally close together when they're friends. So its not always easy to see when they smile much more than normally or get physical touchy. With men its a little more clearer. Especially, when you work as a profiler.

You and Elle have been to the cinema, a restaurant, a café and a picnic date. And even though all those dates had been amazing, you never seemed to go further. You hadn't even kissed yet. You'd gotten close to each other before. Holding hands, a kiss on the cheek, or the hand, but not on the lips. Not even a little quick kiss. Which was fine by you. You just enjoyed her company for now. However, you really wanted to. You really wanted her.

She was like a drug you were addicted to, but a drug you couldnt fully reach. Well, that's how she made you feel. Everytime she was near, you felt your stomach tickling, and you felt yourself trying to resist the smile that wanted to stay so bad.

But you didn't want to pressure Elle into something she didn't want. You wanted her to be happy and comfortable, and she seemed happy and comfortable, so you didn't want to ruin anything. You for sure, didn't want to ruin how Elle felt about you, and how she sees you.

Elle was confident and self-assured. That wasnt something new. But that made her confident enough to flirt with other people. So when a guy at a local police station had been flirting with Elle all day, you got that strong feeling in your belly. Your eyes bounced between Elle and the man whenever they were interacting. Your eyes fell down to your own business, and your mouth was frowning. You were sitting in a chair, by one of the large desks in the police station. One of your legs was rested on the other, so you could hold your little black notepad on the side of your knee. You sat there with a pen in your dominant hand, trying to get back on track. You were noting down the profile of the unsub, you had been called in to give. You look up again, and see Elle working on something. It really got you thinking. Elle was a little hard to read sometimes.

Pictures of her with someone else invaded your mind, and it made your stomach sick. It made you slump your shoulders, and holding your head down. Then you thought about the memories of you and Elle's dates. Dates that were real. Something that actually happened. It made you realize something. Your eyes widened a little but not much. You looked up and ahead of you, where Elle sat in the far distance. In her own world, during her work and minding her own business. You prompted both of your feet to the ground, to get out of your head. You ran one of your hands through your hair to get it out of your sight. You shook your head, with closed eyes before opening them again. You sighed heavily, and adjusted the blue pen you were holding. You started to get your mind back on the case, and you started reading what you had written until now. That's when you thought of more things to give the profile, and wrote them down.

You weren't sure if anybody noticed your jealousy, you tried your best to hide it. Jealousy is normal to feel, but dont let it ruin anything. You couldnt help but frown most of the day. It was hard to smile, when you felt like you weren't good enough or interesting to the one person who made you happy. Elle hadn't told you anything that was a hint to not wanting you. Really, it was just overthinking. That guy who had shown his clear interest all day, had gotten on your nerves. But you didn't want to show it. You'd hate to admit that you were jealous. You and Elle weren't even official. You'd just went on a few dates. No reason to cause a scene. Maybe, you had furrowed your eyesbrows whenever the man said something to show your disagreement. Rolled your eyes here and there, but nothing too mean. Well, some people might've noticed, but chose to shrug it off. You clearly weren't in the mood for being interviewed, or teased.

Time passed, and you gave the profile and catched the unsub. Work was done. But you were still so fixated on the thing you thought about before. Earlier that day, you thought of the fact that, you needed to get clear with Elle. Now, maybe she didn't notice your strong feelings for her, and she just needed to know and hear that. After all, communication is very important. You can't just expect people to know what you want, they need to be told.

You were packing up your stuff, as well as everyone else. You were all getting ready to get on that plane. You weren't sure when you could get Elle aside for a private talk, but you weren't going to get it on the plane. Risky and inappropriate.

Then maybe back at the bullpen, where it was probably going to be quiet and calm. Also there wasn't going to be many people left in the office. You had a few files to finish, but there wasn't alot of them. Which did made you feel like some stress had been taken off your shoulders.

Everyone was tired. The whole plane was quiet, except the sound of the motor. There was a tapping or a yawn once in a while. However, no one was talking, laughing or doing anything that would crave energy. You were holding a book in your hands, not feeling tired enough to take a nap. So instead, you decided to just read a book. A book you were excited to read, since the description of it seemed very interesting and it had the qualities of things you were into. But you couldnt read a single word, without thinking about a bunch of different things. Yes maybe, your eyes were reading but you weren't actually taking the information in. You realized that when you heard a shuffle, and a foot touching your shin, before it quickly pulled away. You looked up, with curious eyes. Across you was where Spencer was sitting, already fast asleep. Next to him, were Elle. She was already looking at you, as if she knew you would look up from the sudden contact. But she was biting her lip, with a small blush. She didn't mean to, you knew that. Not only could you see it on her, but she also pulled away so fast startled by the contact herself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to" She whispered softly. Her eyes didn't look heavy, cause she had them as open as they normally are, and her mouth was slightly parted. She was sitting with some files reading through them.

"It's okay" You replied with a subtle smile, and looked down at your book again. You blinked your eyes. Even if it was just for a second, on accident and just her shoe, you still couldnt stop replaying that little moment. Her presence was just enough to make you all warm and happy. You were thinking about the whole moment, not just the part where she accidentally touched the little exposed part of your shin. You were also thinking about how sweet she looked, as she apologized and looked into your eyes. Her almond chocolate brown eyes were so adorable, you'd get lost in them, if you looked too long. You slouched in your seat, and relaxed your body as much as you could. You closed the book and left it on the little table infront of you. All of a sudden, you felt more tired than you were before, finally being able to get some rest, before having to finish some work at the BAU.

—

Back at the bullpen was just as peaceful as it was in the plane. The place you were in was dimly lit, and it was quiet. You knew Hotch was still in his office. He hadn't left since he entered. Spencer was sitting by his own desk working quickly, since he could read so fast. Derek had left already, stuffing a few files into his bag. JJ was probably somewhere in this place, you honestly didn't know. You hadn't been keeping an eye on everyone. Elle was sitting by her own desk which was across from Spencers. Yours was across Dereks. So you could see Elle from where you sat, you had to turn your head if you wanted to be able to see Spencer. She was holding some paper with one hand, and the other was on her temple like she was trying to figure something out. While you were just sitting there arms resting on the desk, you were thinking about earlier. How upset it made you to see someone else trying to get with Elle. Maybe it was just harmless and for fun, but you wouldnt know. You weren't in the situation, you were just observing from afar. You were rolling your tongue along your teeth, while seeing those things again. You bit some of your lip, and looked down at your own desk. You then got back to work, remembering that you weren't going anywhere until you were done with these files.

You were finally done, closed the last file and leaned back in your seat, stretching your arms and legs as much as you possibly could. You yawned, and looked at the clock nearby.

Gosh, it was late.

You started putting the things away you weren't going to use anymore, and gathering your things. Elle seemed to be done too, cause she was also getting things in their places. Your heartbeat quickened and your palms grew sweaty. A bunch of thoughts were attacking you all at once. You just hoped, she wouldnt think low of you and judge you.

You went up to her after you were done packing. You were ready to go, and hoped she was too. You stood by her and she looked at you, and broke into a smile when she saw you standing there.

"Hello Y/N" She said, and went back to her things. "Hi. Are you done with your work?" You asked her calmly. You were looking at her the whole time, holding onto your purse.

"Yes, I'm just getting my things. Why?" She replied, and took a brief look at you. "I was just thinking if you want to follow each other out?" You asked her, raising one of your eyebrows slightly. You turned your head to the side a little, and waited for her response.

She stopped what she doing, holding some paper in her hand still. She breathed through a smile: "Yes, I would like that" She stated.

"Good" You said, barely audible. You looked to your right side, to see Spencer still working. He must've had more files than you.

Elle was now ready and you were walking towards the elevator. She made quick conversation talking about how the day had been. You just nodded and agreed with her. Your mind was in a total different place. You really wanted to bring up the conversation, but you weren't sure how to. If you could just tell her what you wanted, and how you felt without coming off as disrespectful, strange or mean.

You held the door open for Elle, letting her leave the building first, but you could still feel the cold breeze. You let go of the door, and walked up to Elle. She had been waiting for you, so you could say goodbye properly.

You stood there across from each other for a moment, just looking into the others eyes. You could hear cars drive by once in a while, sounds of people from afar, a dog barking and all kinds of sounds that would belong to a city. But those sounds didn't matter at all, when you were alone with Elle. Like you thought, you were just about to get lost in them until Elle looked over to her car. You snapped back to reality, and smiled softly.

"Elle" You said to get her attention, even though you wouldnt need to get her attention. She always knew that you would be on her mind one way or another.

"Yes?" She asked, letting her grib on her bags soften.

You looked at her again, taking her appearance in. If she did end up rejecting you then that would be okay. Yes, it may be hurtful for some time, but you'll get over it. Rather get over it, than being with someone who doesn't love you, the way you love them. She was the one who asked you out the first two times. Which means, she's interested in you, so why not just take the chance.

"I know that you never promised anything, and i think I just kind of hoped you would lose balance and say that you want me....Cause I know that I want you. I really really like you, and I want what we have to be serious..It's okay if you dont want that, I understand. But I'm hoping you do." You explained peacefully. You didn't rush through it. You had thought alot about what you were going to say and how you would handle it. But now that you were standing there, facing her and feeling her presence, it was different. So you just said what was on your mind in the moment.

A smile started to form on her soft looking lips. This time she let her grip on her bags go completely. Her hands took a hold of yours, and she held them tightly but gently. She looked at you studying your face, before she walked closer to you, still holding your hands. You looked back at her, holding eye contact. Her eyes could tell you so much without needing any words. And for a second it was like she had told you all you needed to know. Even though it might sound strange, it was almost like she'd stolen the words right from your mind and into her own, to send them to you through actions. She looked at your lips, before looking back at your eyes.

Your legs started to feel like spaghetti. "I would really like that too. I want you too" She almost whispered. You felt so relieved hearing those words leave her mouth. Your tensed up shoulders relaxed, and your stomach was being filled up by butterflies. She was so close to you, you could feel the warmth of her body. Her breath too. You could see her sweet little freckles that was spread differently on her face. Her eyes shined brightly at you, as the corners of her mouth turned upwards. You both leaned in to let your lips meet. You didn't need to lean much, since you were both so close. One of your hands left her hand, so you could rest it on the side of her face. She took the hand you had let go, and held onto your arm. Your lips moved together dedicately. It all felt like heaven, and your mind was so blurry. All because of her.

Elle was also feeling that rush go through her body. The warm feeling spreading all over her.

Elle didn't have to know that the reason why you had ended up confessing to her all of a sudden, was jealousy. You might've forgotten that yourself, just thinking about telling her and taking the chance. That also didn't even matter anymore. She clearly wasn't interested in that guy, who had been flirting and complimenting her so much earlier. She wanted to be with you, and that was what mattered right now.

Her hand was still resting on your arm and your hand was still on the side of her face, as you both pulled away to get some air. You smiled brightly at her, and her eyes were smiling too just like her lips.

Her red lipstick was a little smudged, from the sweet kiss you'd just had. You took your hand from her face, to around her lips, to get it off. She laughed a little at it. You then joined in, feeling your shoulders bounce at the action and your belly too.

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

Thank you for reading!

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Something Wicked

Masterlist

"Yeah. You probably missed something, that's what." Dean said as we roared down the highway. "Dude, I ran LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers, I couldn't find a single red flag." Sam exclaims.

"Are you sure you got the coordinates right?" I asked Dean as I leaned forward against their seat. "Yeah, I double checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconson. Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important, guys." Dean said, angrily. "Well I'm telling you, I looked and all I could find was a big steamy pile of nothing. If Dad's sending us hunting for something, I don't know what." Sam said, frustrated.

"Well maybe he's going to meet us there." Dean said, shrugging. "Yeah. Cause he's been so easy to find up to this point." Sam remarked, rolling his eyes. "You're a real smart ass you know that?" Dean spat and the two brothers glare at each other before Dean looks back at the road. "Don't worry I'm sure there's something in Fitchburg worth killing." Dean said.

"Yeah? What makes you so sure?" Sam asked him. "Cause I'm the oldest, which means I'm always right." Dean said and I let a laugh. "No it doesn't." Sam said, shaking his head. "It totally does." Dean said as he glances at Sam then looks back at the road with a little grin.

In Fitchburg, Sam and I were leaning against the Impala staring at the playground when Dean crosses to the road to us, holding a drink carrier with three coffees. "Well...the waitress thinks the local freemasons are up to something sneaky but other than that no one's heard about anything freaky going on." Dean said as he hands us our coffee.

"Dean, you got the time?" Sam asked Dean, who looks at his watch. "Ten after Four. Why?" He asked and Sam and I nod towards the deserted playground, which only had one child playing and climbing. "What's wrong with this picture." I said and Dean looks the playground over.

"School's out isn't it?" Dean asked. "Yeah. So where is everybody?" I asked and Sam nods. "This place should be crawling with kids right now." Sam said just as a woman sits on a park bench, reading a magazine. Dean and I approach her.

"Sure is quiet out here." Dean said to her. "Yeah, it's a shame." She said and we give her a curious look. "Why's that?" I asked her. "You know, kids getting sick, it's a terrible thing." She replied.

"How many?" Dean asked her. "Just five or six but serious, hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching." The woman said then the three of us watch the little girl playing by herself.

"Dude. Dude I am not using this ID." Sam growls as we enter the hospital and come up to the receptionist desk after we changed clothes. "Why not?" Dean asked. "Cause it says bikini inspector on it!" Sam exclaims and Dean and I start to smile. "Don't worry she won't look that close all right? Hell, she won't even ask to see it. It's all about confidence, Sammy." Dean said then he spins Sam to face the desk and he and I keep walking. 

"Hi. I'm Doctor Jerry Caplin, Centers for Disease Control." Sam said to the woman behind the desk while Dean and I watch him. "Can I see some ID?" She asked and Dean and I start to snigger. Sam throws us a dirty look before he looks back at the woman. "Yeah of course." He said and quickly flashes his ID to her then retracted it.

"Now could you direct me to the pediatrics ward please?" He asked her. "Okay well, just go down that hall, turn left and up the stairs." She said and Sam turns and approaches us, glaring at our smiles. "See. I told you it would work." Dean said as Sam shakes his head, irritably. "Follow me. It's upstairs." He grumbles and we walk down the corridor.

We walked down a few steps and I was about to turn to Dean when I noticed that he wasn't there. I turn and see Dean was staring inside of a room. "Dean!" I shouted and he jumps slightly then follows us.

"Well, thanks for seeing us, Dr. Hydecker." I said as the boys  and I walked down the corridor with the Doctor. "Well I'm glad you guys are here. I was just about to call CDC myself. How'd you find out anyways?" Hydecker asked us. "Oh some GP, I forget his name, he called Atlanta and, uh, he must've beat you to the punch." Dean explains, quickly, and Hydecker nods.

"So you say you got six cases so far?" Sam asked him. "Yeah, five weeks. At first we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia. Not that newsworthy. But now..." Hydecker before he trails off. "Now what?" I asked him. "The kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are...wearing out." Hydecker said as a nurse comes up to him.

"Excuse me, Dr Hydecker." She said as she hands him some forms to look over and sign. "You ever see anything like this before?" Sam asked him. "Never this severe." Hydecker said. "And the way it spreads...that's a new one for me." The nurse said as she looks up at us.

"What do you mean?" I asked them. "It works its way through families. But only the children, one sibling after another." The nurse said and the boys and I share a glance for a moment.

"You mind if we interview a few of the kids?" Dean asked her. "They're not conscious." The nurse said. "None of them?" Sam asked, shocked. "No." The nurse said, shaking her head.

"Can we, uh, can we talk to the parents?" I asked them. "Well, if you think it'll help." Hydecker said and I nod. "Yeah. Who was your most recent admission?" Dean asked him.

Minutes later, the boys and I stood in front of a man, who was sitting in a chair against the wall, asking him questions. "I should get back to my girls." The man said. "We understand that, and we really appreciate you talking to us. Now you say Mary is the oldest?" Sam asked. "Thirteen." The man replied.

"Ok. And she came down with it first, right? And then..." I said and the man nods. "Bethany, the next night." He adds. "Within 24 hours?" I asked him. "I guess. Look, I, uh, I already went through all this with the doctor." The man said to us and we nod as Dean holds up a hand to him.

"Just a few more questions if you don't mind. How do you think they caught pneumonia? Were they out in the cold, anything like that?" Dean asked. "No. We think it was an open window." The man replied. "Both times?" Dean asked him. "The first time, I, I don't really remember but the second time for sure. And I know I closed it before I put Bethany to bed." The man said.

"So you think she opened it?" Sam asked him. "It's a second story window with a ledge. No one else could've." The man replied.

"You know this might not be anything supernatural. It might just be pneumonia." Sam said as we walked down the corridor of the hospital. "Maybe. Or maybe something opened that window. I don't know man, look, Dad sent us down down here for a reason. I think we might be barking up the right tree." Dean said.

"I'll tell you one thing." Sam mutters. "What?" Dean and I asked him. "That guy we just talked to? I'm betting it'll be a while before he goes home." Sam said, giving us a knowing look.

We break into that man's house and check Bethany's room with the EMF. "You got anything over there?" I asked Dean as he holds his device out. "Nah, nothing." Dean replied. "Yeah, me neither." Sam said as we keep checking until I move to the window and noticed something odd on the windowsill. 

"Hey boys?" I said. "Yeah." They said as I stare at the windowsill closer and see a handprint that had rotted into the wood. "You were right, Dean. It's not pneumonia." I said as they come over and see it as well.

"It's rotted. What the hell leaves a handprint like that?" Sam asked as Dean stares at it, intently.

Flashback 

*3rd Person POV*

Dean, who was around ten years old, was staring at a photo of a handprint when John and (father's name) come out of the bedroom, loading their sawn off. "All right. You know the drill, Dean. Anybody calls, you don't pick up. If it's me or (father's name), we'll ring once, then call back. You got that?" John said to Dean, who nods.

"Mm-hmm. Only answer the phone unless it rings once first." Dean repeated. "Come on, dude, look alive. This stuff is important." John said to him, firmly. "I know, it's just...we've gone over it like a million times and you know I'm not stupid." Dean said to his dad. "I know you're not, but it only takes one mistake, you got that?" John said to Dean, firmly.

"John, go easy on him. He's a smart boy, he can handle it." (Father's name) said to John, who stares at him. (Father's name) raises an eyebrow at John before they gather their weapons.

"All right, if we're not back Sunday night...?" John asked Dean. "Call Pastor Jim." Dean said to him. "Lock the doors, the windows, close the shades. Most important...." John said. "Watch out for Sammy and (y/n)." Dean said and they look over at Sam and (y/n), both of them sprawled on the couch, watching cartoons on TV. "I know." Dean said to the men as they nod.

"All right. If something tries to bust in?" John asked. "Shoot first, ask questions later." Dean replied and John smiles and places a hand on his shoulder. "That's my man." John said as (father's name) looks at his young daughter.

"(Y/n)." He calls and the young girl, with two ponytails, gets up and walks over to her dad. "Now, I'm gonna be gone for a few days, okay? You stay here and be a good girl." He said to her as he kneels down to her. "Yes, daddy." (Y/n) said. "Dean's in charge, so listen to him and don't give him too much of a hard time." (Father's name) said, smirking, as the girl nods.

"And you help out any way you can, alright?" He said. "Yes, daddy." (Y/n) said and her father smiles. "That's my girl." He said then he goes and kisses the top of her head. He stands up and turns to John, nods at him and the two men walk out of the motel room and, immediately, Dean goes to the door and locks it.

Present Day

*(y/n)'s POV*

"I know why Dad sent us here. He's faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job." Dean said to us as he stares at the handprint, looking a bit sick.

"So what the hell is a shtriga?" Sam asked Dean after we pull up to a motel office and get out of the car. "It's...kinda like a witch I think. I don't know much about 'em." Dean replied. "Well I've never heard of it. And it's not in Dad's journal." Sam said.

"Dad and (father's name) hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about 16, 17 years ago. You two were there. You guys don't remember?" Dean asked. "No." Sam said. "Vaguely." I said as I think. "And I guess Dad caught wind of the things in Fitzburg now and kicked us the coordinates." Dean said.

"So wait, this...Shtriga. You think it's the same one our Dads hunted before?" I asked Dean. "Yeah, maybe." Dean said, shrugging. "But if Dad and (father's name) went after it why is it still breathing air?" Sam asked Dean. "Cause it got away." Dean replied, simply.

"Got away?" Sam and I asked as I start to think that this is very odd. My dad and John always made sure when they were hunting monsters, they made sure it would never come back. "Yeah, guys, it happens." Dean said, frustrated. "Not very often." Sam points out. "Yeah, especially if my dad was helping." I said to Dean. "Well I don't know what to tell ya, maybe our Dads didn't have their wheaties that morning." Dean said.

"What else do you remember?" I asked Dean. "Nothin'. I was a kid all right?" Dean said, defensively, before he goes into the office. Sam gives me a look and I shrug and follow Dean into the office as a young boy around ten or twelve years old comes up to the desk.

"Two queens." Dean said to the boy. The boy looks out the door and towards Sam then sniggers. "Yeah I'll bet." He mutters. "What'd you say?" Dean asked him and the boy looks up at him, smiling, and I raise an eyebrow at this.

"Nice car!" He said then I come up to Dean and pull out my card. "Hey, honey...you forgot your card." I said to him, sweetly. He looks at me, slightly confused, but I smiled at him and he caught on what I was doing and takes my card. "Thanks, sweetheart. What would I do without you?" He asked me and my smile widens. "Probably spontaneously combust." I said and Dean chuckles then he leans down and kissed my cheek.

My heart leapt for joy once his lips touched my cheek. He pulls back and I look down, in embarrassment, then looked over at the boy, who had a look of shock on his face.

Then a woman enters the building, smiling at all of us. "Hi." She greets. "Hi." Dean and I greet. "Checking in?" She asked. "Yeah." Dean said then the woman turns to the boy. "Ahh, do me a favor, go get your brother some dinner." She said to him. "I'm helping a guest!" The boy exclaims.

She gives him a look and he grimaces and turns to go. The boy looks at us and scoffs before he turns to the back. "Will that be cash or credit?" The woman asked as she goes to the computer. "You take MasterCard?" Dean asked and she nods. "Perfect. Here you go." Dean said and he glances at me and I nod then he hands my card to the woman.

Then Dean stares ahead and I follow his gaze to see the boy pouring a glass of milk for a younger boy.

Flashback 

*3rd Person POV*

Sam and (y/n) were sitting at the table as Dean pours them a glass of milk. "When's Dad gonna get back?" Sam asked Dean as he grabs a pot from the stove. "Tomorrow." Dean replied. "When?" Sam asked as Dean brings the pot over and pours the contents into Sam's bowl and then (y/n)'s bowl. "I dunno. He and (father's name) usually come in late though. Now eat your dinner." Dean said to the young kids.

"I'm sick of scabetti-ohs." Sam whines as (y/n) begins to dig into her dinner. "Well -- You're the one who wanted 'em!" Dean said, slightly annoyed. "I want lucky charms!" Sam said. "There's no more lucky charms." Dean said.

"I saw the box!" Sam argues as (y/n) looks between the boys, she always hated it when they argued like this. "Okay, maybe there is but there's only enough for one bowl and I haven't had any yet." Dean said and Sam gives puppy dog eyes.

Dean sighs then grabs Sam's bowl. "I'll take it if he won't finish it." (Y/n) said just as Dean was about to go to the trash. Dean turns to her. "You sure?" He asked her and she nods. Dean goes and pours the contents out of Sam's bowl into her bowl then places Sam's bowl in the sink. He grabs the cereal box and thumps it on the table instead.

Sam reaches into the box and grabs the toy then holds it out to Dean. "D'you want the prize?" Sam asked him, smiling.

Present Day

*(y/n)'s POV*

"Sir?" The woman said as she holds out the card to Dean, who seemed like he was lost in his thoughts. "I'll take it." I said as I take the card and elbow Dean. "Sorry. Uh...Thanks." Dean said, once he comes back to reality.

Later, the boys and I were sitting in the motel room while Sam was looking at his laptop. "Well, you were right. Heh. It wasn't very easy to find but you were right. Shtriga is a kind of witch. They're Albanian, but legends about them trace back to Ancient Rome. They feed off spiritus vitae." Sam explains.

"Spiri-what?" Dean and I asked, confused. "Vitae. It's Latin, translates to breath of life. Kinda like your life force or essence." Sam explains. "Didn't the doctor say the kids' bodies were wearing out?" I asked Sam. "It's a thought. you know she takes your vitality maybe your immunity goes to hell, pneumonia takes hold. Anyway, shtrigas can feed off anyone but they prefer..." Sam said but then Dean and I finished his sentence.

"Children." We said and Sam nods.

"Yeah. Probably because they have stronger life force. And get this. Shtrigas are ...invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and man." Sam explains. "No, that's not right. She's vulnerable when she feeds." Dean said and Sam and I give him a curious look.

"What?" We said, confused "If you catch her when she's eating you can blast her with consecrated wrought iron. Ahhh... buckshots or rounds I think." Dean said. "How do you know that?" I asked him. "Dad told me. I remember." He said. "Oh." I said.

"So uh, anything else Dad might have mentioned?" Sam asked Dean. "Nope, that's it." Dean replied but Sam and I keep staring at him. The way Dean was talking it sounded like he knew more than he was letting on, which is odd for Dean.

"What?" Dean asked us. "Nothing." Sam and I said before Sam continues. "Okay. So, assuming we can kill it when it eats we still gotta find the thing first, which ain't gonna be a cakewalk. Shtrigas take on a human disguise when they're not hunting." Sam said.

"What kinda human disguise?" Dean asked him. "Historically, something innocuous. Could be anything, but it's usually a feeble old woman, which might be how the witches as old crones legend got started." Sam said then Sam crosses the room. "Hang on." He said.

"What?" Sam and I asked as Dean grabs a map. "Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far, and dead center?" Dean points out and my jaw drops. "The hospital." I said and Dean nods.

"The hospital. Now when we were there I saw a patient, an old woman." Dean said as he turns to us. "An old person huh?" Sam asked. "Yeah." Dean said. "In a hospital? Phew." I said, shaking my head and sniggering. "Better call the Coast Guard, Sam." I said and Sam laughs. "Well listen, smart-ass, she had an inverted cross hanging on her wall." Dean said and Sam and I look over at Dean, serious. "Well, why didn't you say so." I said as Dean raises an eyebrow at me.

That night, we come down the hallway of the hospital, but we quickly duck back when we see Dr Hydecker. "Good night Dr Hydecker." A nurse said. "See you tomorrow, Betty." Hydecker said. "Try to get some sleep." The nurse said.

The boys and I hide until Hydecker passes, then we continue on to the old woman's room. We open the door and sneak in, Dean taking the front and Sam and I hanging back, guns drawn.

The woman was in her wheelchair facing toward the corner. She seemed to be sleeping. Dean slowly leans in closer and closer to her face until she turns her head and yells. "Who the hell are you?!"

Dean freaks and leaping back against a wall cabinet, pulling his gun up. "Who's there? You trying to steal my stuff?" She asked then she grumbles to herself. "They're always stealing around here."

Sam turns the light on and I come up to her other side to see she has cataracts. "No! Ah, ma'am, we're maintenance. We're sorry. We thought you were sleeping." Sam said to her. "Ahhh, nonsense. I was sleeping with my peepers open." She said then she laughs and gestures at the wall.

"And fix that crucifix, would ya? I've asked four damn times already!" She exclaims. Dean, still looking slightly freaked out, jogs the crucifix and it swings the right way up.

[thenightlymirror]

Where to begin?

I’m totally fucked.

Of the 14 big monuments we had sitting in the back, some since 2021, we got three done by a local contractor I emailed personally. Then I went into Beast Mode and tried to get the grounds crew to get ready for 5 monuments when the granite company came next. Then, end of day before the delivery, I see that the foundation for the guy who’s been coming in every week, who’s father died two years ago, comes in saying “Listen I don’t want to cause a problem. I would take him to another cemetery if I could, but I can’t. Just please install his tombstone that’s already here.” I have personally issued the paperwork three times, with many pleas. And it’s not done.

I’m furious. I come in the next day, bring it to the GM, the superintendent, who has one of his main guys suspended for the week. My boss stops by and says “Oh, one of the grounds guys walked off today.” Later, in my office, she’s like, “It’s such a shame Bryan isn’t here this week, when we need him the most.” Like she didn’t piss him off and nearly get him to quit and then had to suspend him. Psycho shit. I’m running around like crazy, I find two markers that were never actually ordered because the rubbings were never submitted. I’m in the dirt, in a caved in grave, trying to do a rubbing on a caved in headstone in a caved in grave, of a young daughter’s little bunny rabbits to match for her sister’s tombstone. I get called back because they need the golf cart to cheer up some friends of a cop that got killed. I understand, but I’m just beat red, soaked in sweat, so pissed.

By the end of the day, the foundation is in. I ask the GM about the giant bench that needs to be installed. I haven’t checked that the foundation was installed with my own eyes, because I told the GM that it wasn’t done last week, and then she personally insisted they finished it after. I ask her again if it is done. I realize I don’t believe a word she says. I check. It’s not in. What the holy fuck. I cannot trust a single fucking person at this place.

The delivery never comes.

The next day I come down with some stomach illness and feel like I’ve been hit with a truck. They let me go, my trainer stays. She proceeded to have a horrible fucking day. We have a huge stack of shit to do that has been delayed because we are trying to get all these monuments and other random headstones and bronzes that have been piling behind the garage out. She gets nothing done because she keeps having new pissed off customers yelling at her at the front desk. The delivery truck arrives, insisted the foundation for that bench is there because the GM STILL INSISTS that is that case, treats her like an idiot.

The vendor got 7 monuments in. Not 5, not 4. Seven.

The trainer texts me crying on the way home. I left work at 11am. Hit the bed and slept until 4pm. She texts. I fall back asleep until 1am. I watch 30 minutes of Best in Show, sleep until 6:30.

Back behind the garage, there’s more progress than ever. You can almost see the ground. By deus ex machina, we are doing better than we ever imagined we’d be. I work slowly through the day taking stock. Drive by and sit with the coyote for a while. (I told Buck the coyote was named Junebug, after a friend of mine). I leave at 3:00 because I’m still tired. Wake up at 4am totally refreshed, finally realizing how sick I must have been.

Work through Memorial Day weekend. Only four days off this month.

Today, my trainer is finally back. It’s nice to see her. We plan to see a family in the afternoon who has the stone monument in stock, is still trying to make changes to the design, and also wanted it completed in 3 week. No. They try to cancel but realize they have no where to go, so we’re going to help them design it.

We go out to lunch. I bring my tarot cards. Her reading says that she has a precocious student who is going to inspire her toward a happily ever after. Whatever that means. Mine says that I am dreaming of escaping, either like a thief in the night, or sad, exhausted, and defeated, but in the end I stay, just barely ahead of the pack. She gets a phone call.

She’s gone for a long time on this call. I do another reading for myself, which this time is a lot more optimistic. The King of Pentacles.

She comes back to the table, her face is bright red, covered in tears. “Are you ready to go?”

“Are you okay?”

She can’t tell me what’s wrong. I ask “Did you get promoted?” She laughs. No. She says, “You can’t tell Carlene.” I have no idea what she’s talking about. It occurs to me that maybe they’re moving Carlene somewhere else to attack her boss. No. I tell her, “You know, this job. If you’re this miserable, maybe you should do something else. These days, they all add up.” They’re pulling my trainer out at the end of the week to work on something else. I’ll never be trained. Not really. We just sort of solved their emergency, and now I’m going to be one more memorialist at this location who has no idea what they’re doing.

She feels bad because I’m totally fucked. Her whole job is to coordinate and make us the best there is, and the company just doesn’t give a fuck. They just want to save money. I’m just trying to be like “No, it’s ok. You’ll be gone for a while. I’ll still call. I have Sandra. I’ll be fine.”

I give her 15 minutes in the car to just cry.

I’m getting the room ready to meet this family. She comes in. She says she can’t look at my face without crying. She leaves. The mother comes in, I’m alone, but I talk to her for a while and try to guide her through some process that I barely understand myself. The husband comes in. When the trainer comes in, it’s so obvious she’s fucking devastated. There’s two parents of a dead boy here, and she’s so fucked up.

I take the family outside to look at other monuments and explain the different engraving techniques to them. She gets a call, disappears for a long time. I come back in with the family once we decide on a few things and send her a text that we’re back in the arrangement room.

It goes well. We come up with a proof. I hand her a pillow from the couch and tell her to take off her glasses. I hit her a few times and she hits me back. Back in my office, I ask her if she needs a hug. She says no. She says she just needs to not be a baby. I have five files slapped on my desk at the end of the day for burials that need to be finalized. She’s trying to act happy when she goes, even though she’s still a wreck, which is all the more heartbreaking.

At one point, I am trying to pull up my bank account on my computer to see if I have enough money to walk out on my job, but I pause, and slow down, and get back to work.

[aspenmissing]

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 (𝙿𝚝 𝟷)

The Impala cruises down a country road.

"Yeah. You probably missed something, that's what" Dean says.

"Dude, I ran LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers, I couldn't find a single red flag. Are you sure you got the coordinates, right?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, I double checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important Sammy" Sam starts getting frustrated.

"Well, I'm telling you I looked and all I could find was a big steamy pile of nothing. If Dad's sending us hunting for something I don't know what"

"Well maybe he's going to meet us there" Y/N says.

"Yeah. Cause he's been so easy to find up to this point"

"You're a real smart ass you know that? Don't worry I'm sure there's something in Fitchburg worth killing" Dean says.

"Yeah? What makes you so sure"

"Cause I'm the oldest, which means I'm always right" Dean says, Y/N raises her eyebrow.

"Second oldest" Y/N mutters.

"No, it doesn't"

"It totally does" Dean glances at Sam then looks back at the road with a little grin. The impala cruises past the sign for Fitchburg.

==

Sam leans against the Impala staring ahead. Dean and Y/N crosses to the road to him, Dean holding 2 coffees, Y/N holding one. Glasgow’s Diner can be seen in the background. Dean gives Sam a coffee.

"Well...the waitress thinks the local freemasons are up to something sneaky but other than that no one's heard about anything freaky going on"

"Y/N, you got the time?" The woman looks at her watch

"Ten after Four. Why?" She asks.

"What's wrong with this picture" Sam says, indicating ahead. Sam has been watching a playground. It is deserted, only one child climbing around.

"School's out, isn't it?" Dean asks

"Yeah. So where is everybody? This place should be crawling with kids right now" A woman sits on a park bench reading a magazine and Y/N approaches.

"Sure, is quiet out here"

"Yeah, it's a shame"

"Why's that?" Y/N asks

"You know, kids getting sick, it's a terrible thing" The woman says.

"How many?"

"Just five or six but serious, hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching" They both watch the little girls playing by herself.

==

The three enter the County Memorial Hospital and approach the reception desk.

"Guys. Guys I am not using the ID"

"Why not" Dean asks

"Cause it says bikini inspector on it!" Y/N snorts.

"Don't worry she won't look that close all, right? Hell, she won't even ask to see it. It's all about confidence Sammy" Dean says, grinning. He spins Sam to face the desk and keeps walking. The receptionist looks up.

"Hi. I'm Doctor Jerry Caplin, Centres for Disease Control" Sam says.

"Can I see some ID?" The receptionist asks. Further down the corridor Dean sniggers. Y/N slaps his arm trying to shush him but also trying not to laugh. Sam throws Dean and Y/N a dirty look.

"Yeah of course" Sam quickly flashes his ID, holding his thumb over part of it "Now could you direct me to the paediatric ward please?"

"Okay well, just go down that hall, turn left and up the stairs" Sam approaches a grinning Dean and sniggering Y/N, giving them a major bitchface.

"See. I told you it would work" Dean says, still grinning. Sam glares at Dean and shakes his head irritably.

"Follow me. It's upstairs"

==

Sam, Dean and Y/N walk down the corridor. Dean looks into a room they pass. An old evil looking woman sitting in a wheelchair slowly turns her head to look at him. An inverted cross hang on her wall.

"Dean!" Sam calls. Dean follows Sam and Y/N, glancing back toward the room.

==

Sam, Dean and Y/N walk to a hospital corridor with a doctor.

"Well, thanks for seeing us, Dr. Hydecker" Y/N says.

"Well, I'm glad you guys are here. I was just about to call CDC myself. How'd you find out anyways?" Hydecker asks.

"Oh, some GP, I forgot his name, he called Atlanta and, uh, he must've beat you to the punch" Dean says.

"So, you say you got six cases so far?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, five weeks. At first, we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia. Not that newsworthy. But now..."

"Now what?" Sam asks.

"The kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are ... wearing out"

"Excuse me, Dr Hydecker" A nurse says. The Nurse hands him some forms to look over and sign.

"You ever see anything like this before?" Y/N asks.

"Never this severe" Hydecker replies.

"And the way it spreads...that's a new one for me"

"What do you mean?" Sam asks.

"It works its way through families. But only the children, one sibling after another" The nurse says.

"You mind if we interview a few of the kids?" Dean asks.

"They're not conscious"

"None of them?"

"No" The nurse says.

"Can we, uh, can we talk to the parents?"

"Well, if you think it'll help."

"Yeah. Who was your most recent admission?"

==

A man sits on a chair against the wall, Sam, Dean and Y/N stand in front of him.

"I should get back to my girls" The man says.

"We understand that, and we really appreciate you talking to us. Now you say Mary is the oldest?" Y/N asks.

"Thirteen"

"Ok. And she came down with it first, right? And then..."

"Bethany, the next night"

"Within 24 hours?" Sam asks.

"I guess. Look, I, uh, I already went through all this with the doctor"

"Just a few more questions if you don't mind. How do you think they caught pneumonia? Were they out in the cold, anything like that?" Dean asks.

"No. We think it was an open window" The man replies.

"Both times?"

"The first time, I, I don't really remember but the second time for sure. And I know I closed it before I put Bethany to bed"

"So, you think she opened it?" Sam asks.

"It's a second story window with a ledge. No one else could've"

==

Sam, Dean and Y/N walk back down the corridor.

"You know this might not be anything supernatural. It might just be pneumonia"

"Maybe. Or maybe something opened that window. I don't know man, look, Dad sent us down here for a reason. I think we might be barking up the right tree" Dean says.

"I'll tell you one thing"

"What?" Y/N questions.

"That guy we just talked to? I'm betting it'll be a while before he goes home"

==

The three are looking around Bethany's room with an EMF.

"You got anything over there?" Sam asks.

"Nah, nothing" Y/N says.

"Yeah, me neither" Sam replies.

"Same" They kept checking. Sam moves to the window.

"Hey Dean? Y/N?" Sam asks

"Yeah" they say in unison.

"Uhm" Sam stares at the windowsill "You were right. It's not pneumonia" Dean and Y/N comes over and they stare at a handprint rotted into the wood "It's rotted. What the hell leaves a handprint like that?"

==Flashback==

At a motel room, a 10-year-old Dean is staring at a photo of a handprint. John comes out of the bedroom, loading his swan off.

"All right. You know the drill, Guys. Anybody calls, you don't pick up. If it's me, I'll ring once, then call back. You got that?" John asks.

"Mm-hmm. Only answer the phone unless it rings once first" Dean says.

"Come on, kid, look alive. This stuff is important"

"I know, it's just...we've gone over it like a million times and you know I'm not stupid"

"I know you're not, but it takes one mistake, you got that?" John continues gathering his things "All right, if I'm not back Sunday night...?"

"Call Pastor Jim"

"Lock the doors, the windows, close the shaded. Most important"

"Whatcha out for Sammy and Y/N" They both look to Sammy and Y/N, Y/N sprawled on the couch, Sammy cuddled into Y/N, watching cartoons on TV, Y/N sleeping.

"I know" Dean says.

"All right. If something tries to bust in?"

"Shoot first, ask questions later" John holds Dean's shoulder.

"That's my man"

==Flashback End==

Dean is staring at the window, looking a little sick.

"I know why Dad sent us here. He's faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job"

==Time Skip==

The Impala pulls up to a motel office and they get out.

"So, what the hell is a shtriga?" Sam asks.

"It's...kinda like a witch, I think. I don't know much about 'em"

"Well, I've never heard of it. And it's not in Dad's journal"

"Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about 16, 17 years ago. You were there. You don't remember" Y/N says.

"No"

"And I guess he caught wind of the things in Fitzburg now and kicked us the coordinates" Dean adds.

"So, wait, this..."

"Shtriga"

"Right. You think it's the same one Dad hunted before?" Dean and Y/N look at each other.

"Yeah, maybe"

"But if Dad went after it, why is it still breathing air?" Sam asks

"Cause it got away" Y/N says.

"Got away?" Dean starts getting frustrated.

"Yeah, Sammy it happened"

"Not very often"

"Well, I don't know what to tell ya, maybe Dad didn't have his Wheaties that morning" Dean says.

"What else do you remember?" Sam asks. Y/N shakes her head, shrugging.

"Nothin'. I was a kid all right?" Dean says, defensively. Dean enters reception and rings the bell. A boy of around 10-12 comes from the back room where a younger boy sits watching TV

"A king or two queens?" He asks. Dean glances back at Sam and Y/N.

"Two queens"

"Yeah, I'll bet"

"What'd you say"

"Nice car!" The boy smiles. A woman enters, smiling at them both.

"Hi" she says.

"Hi"

"Checking in?" The woman asks.

"Yeah" The woman turns to the boy.

"Ahh, do me a favour, go get your brother some dinner"

"I'm helping a guest!" She gives him a look and he grimace and turns to go. The boy looks at his Dean, while raising his eyebrow at Dean "Two queens" Dean fakes laughs.

"Funny kid"

"Oh, yeah. He thinks so. Will that be cash or credit?"

"You take MasterCard?" She nods "Perfect. Here you go" Dean watches through the door as the boy pours a glass of milk for his younger brother.

==Flashback==

Young Sam sits at the table. Young Dean pours him a glass of milk. Y/N's sitting next to them, looking at some pictures.

"When'd Dad gonna get back?" Sammy asks.

"Tomorrow" Dean says, grabbing a pot from the stove.

"When?" Dean pours the food from the stove into Sam's ball.

"I dunno, Sammy. He usually comes in late though. Now eat your dinner" Y/N says, rubbing Sammy's arm.

"I'm sick of spaghetti-ohs" Sammy wines.

"Well-You're the one who wanted 'em!" Dean says.

"I want lucky charms!"

"There's no more lucky charms" Dean says.

"I saw the box “Sam says.

"Okay, maybe there is but there's only enough for two bowls and we haven't had any yet" Sammy gives puppy dog eyes. Dean sighs, dumps out Sam's bowl in the trash and thumps the cereal box on the table instead. Y/N leans back into her chair as Sam reaches into the box and grabs the toy.

"D'you want the prize? “Sam says, holding it towards Dean. Y/N smiles softly, looking at Dean.

==Flashback End==

"Sir?" The woman says, holding out his card.

"Thanks" Dean replies, coming back to reality.

==

In their motel room, Sam is on his laptop. Dean is making himself and Y/N a coffee, passing her the coffee.

"Well, you were right. Heh. It wasn't very easy to find but you were right. Shtriga is a kind of which. They're Albanian, but legends about them trace back to Ancient Rome. They feed off spiritus vitae" Sam says, reading from his laptop.

"Spirit-what?" Dean asks.

"Vitae. It's Latin, translates to ‘breath of life'. Kinda like your life force or essence"

"Didn't the doctor say the kids' bodied were wearing out?" Y/N asks.

"It's a thought. you know she takes your vitality maybe your immunity goes to hell, pneumonia takes hold. Anyway, shtrigas can feed off anyone but they prefer..."

"Children" Dean finishes.

"Yeah. Probably because they have stronger life force. And get this. Shtrigas are '...invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and man"

"No, that's not right. She's vulnerable when she feeds" Dean says. Y/N looks at him while Sam continues

"If you catch her when she's eating you can blast her with consecrated wrought iron. Ahhh... buckshot’s or rounds I think"

"How do you two know that?"

"Dad told us. I remember"

"So, Huh. So uh, anything else Dad might have mentioned?"

"Nope, that's it" Dean says, Y/N shakes her head. Sam keeps staring at Dean and Y/N.

"What?" Y/N asks.

"Nothing. Okay. So, assuming we can kill it when it eats, we still gotta find the thing first, which aint gonna be a cakewalk. Shtrigas take on a human disguise when they're not hunting"

"What kinda human disguise?" Sam gets off the bed and walks over to the sink.

"Historically, something innocuous. Could be anything, but it's usually a feeble old woman, which might be how the witches as old crones legend got started" Dean crosses the room, and picks up some papers.

"Hang on"

"What?" Sam asks. Dean grabs a map.

"Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far, and dead centre?"

"The hospital"

"The hospital. Now when we were there, I saw a patient, an old woman"

"And old person, huh?" Sam asks.

"Yeah"

"In a hospital? Phew" Sam says shaking his head and sniggering, Y/N snorting.

"Well listen, smart-ass, she had an inverted cross hanging on her wall" Sam quickly looks up, serious. Dean raises an eyebrow at him while Y/N continues

[nocompromise-noregrets]

five good things

I'm off work for three whole weeks now (I save my leave up so that I can take a good long time off at this time of year because I know I'm going to need it), and then for my first two weeks back I'll be working at home because I have a database-wrangling task to do and I can concentrate so much more easily at home.

I have a study at long last! We finished it last weekend, and I've spent a good bit of time in it and somehow I feel a lot more motivated to do stuff when sitting at a desk (except this afternoon but never mind, we can't have everything). Photos when I've sorted out everything that's going on the walls - probably at the end of next week, as I won't have the chance before because...

...tomorrow I am heading off to Heathrow and early on Wednesday morning I have a flight to Hamburg to spend a week with my lovely friends who live deep in the Schleswig-Holstein countryside. HOORAY! It's really crept up on me, but I've just packed my case and everything fits (so far) and it only weighs about 15kg out of my baggage allowance of 23kg. A minor miracle. Keeping my fingers crossed that the baggage handlers' strike today and tomorrow doesn't have too much of a knock-on effect on my bag going with me on Wednesday, and that the Border Force strike doesn't have too much of an effect on me clearing passport control when I come back next Thursday as I forgot I was coming into terminal 5 rather than terminal 3 and only have an hour between my flight arriving and my coach leaving, OOPS.

I have rediscovered the scarves I was knitting for our local homelessness charity while I was off work sick seven years ago (sigh), and found that I still had yarn for three more scarves, so I'm in the middle of making them. It's a super simple pattern, extra chunky wool and big needles so they're knitting up nice and quickly and it's extremely therapeutic. I dropped the first batch (two carrier bags full) into the charity's community cafe/warm space in town last week, and they wouldn't let me go without taking cake with me, as 'nobody leaves here empty handed' in the founder's words. They do fantastic work all year round and quite honestly the guy who founded it deserves a knighthood. I'll be going back in the new year with more scarves. :D

I've finished all my festive fic challenges, plus another prompt-fic, and am hoping for plenty of inspiration while travelling/waiting for my flights/etc. I suspect there will be at least one lazy, quiet afternoon while staying with my friends, so am hoping to get some knitting and writing done.

Not to mention studying, as I've got a bit to catch up on and an assignment to start thinking about. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed as I'm really struggling to remember the terminology, but I had a tutorial on Saturday and the tutor explained a few things in a way that finally made them make sense - and she also said that there have been a few people feeling overwhelmed in the forums, but that it's pretty usual for this part of the course as we've had so much new information piled on us in a short time (I'm already 50% through the course, more or less O.O ) - so I went and checked out the forum threads and found lots of encouragement from the student buddies, who have studied the course before, and the teaching staff - one of the prior students said she never did memorise all the terminology and was using crib sheets right up to the final assignment. Which is reassuring - and at least I can do that with this course, since none of the assessment is in real time.

I have the Job Number Two Christmas party this evening - which is a treat for the staff of both estates, laid on by the family we work for/the estates (my other job is local authority so we don't get a paid-for do - but this one is always rather nice), and is taking place in the main location which is a real honest-to-god castle that has appeared in many film and TV productions :D :D :D Drinks in the Long Drawing Room at 7, and dinner in the Great Hall at 7.30. I feel properly fancy every time XD The missus is giving me a lift there and back too, so I can have a couple of glasses of wine, which tends to take the edge off having to talk shop all evening (I usually end up sitting with one of my volunteers, or with one member of the family or another, and I don't know anyone well enough to talk about anything else XD it's usually entertaining sitting with any of the family though).

ANYWAY. Festive greetings to all of you, a very happy Hanukkah to those of you who are celebrating, and Solstice blessings and a Merry Christmas and all good wishes to everyone else. :D

[wbhsdo-wafaan-mycwaotp]

Alright folks, I'm back after several months of hiatus I swear there's radioapple in here, there's just a build up of radiostatic angst first. Mayhaps I will post the aftermath in another reblog. Idk man, I just have a lot of thoughts. Whatever. They get married in a few years anyway

Alastor is in school for radio broadcasting, obviously

His best friend, Rosie, is in school for theatre.

They met during orientation, they were in the same small group and have been inseparable ever since.

Vox is in school for Television broadcasting

Alastor and Vox are in the same year, and they end up as randomly assigned roommates their freshman year.

They realized they were both broadcasting majors, just in different concentrations and hit it off from there

it's pretty normal for their freshman year. It's not until things start kicking off sophomore year that things start getting spicy.

Alastor gets hired at the school's local radiostation as a paid intern. He puts a good word in with the tv station for his roommate, Vox.

"He's a charmer for sure. Viewers would love him!"

Vox gets hired as an editor pretty quickly in the second semester of their sophomore year after looking at his portfolio and grades. He's an impressive guy!

Alastor gets a little airtime every once in a while, but not too often simply due to there being no room for a new show

Vox and Alastor are still friends, they bicker back and forth and Vox teases Alastor about how he's just a paper pusher - which is fine, paper is simply better than all of the mess that computers make anyway.

UNTIL

Someone calls out sick from the radio station and there's no one to take the slot on the air.

enter Alastor

Vox is in the editing room next to Studio A, where Alastor is about to go live

Alastor starts the show, hardly looking at the script, and he's an absolute natural

Vox sits there for a second going "Oh!!! He's good at this!!" and promptly can't focus on any of his editing. What can he say, Al's voice is enchanting.

After the show, the ratings are soaring, so Alastor, only an end of year sophomore, gets offered a slot on the air. Four days weekly, mainly on the weekend to save time for classes.

His time on air coincides with Vox's editing times

(dun dun dun)

Vox is stuck listening to Alastor's perfect little radio voice every time he's editing, and it seems like no matter what noise-canceling headphones he puts on, he can't get that smooth voice out of his head.

This does nothing to sedate Vox's ever-growing crush on Alastor, only frustrating him further.

The summer comes around and Alastor is offered an extra day in the studio and a paid position. He's now on every weekday.

Vox is editing one day, trying his hardest to concentrate, but all he can hear is Alastor laughing with some call in, before answering in a borderline flirtatious tone.

he ends up standing and throwing a fit, accidentally kicking his chair into the shared wall.

The sound interrupts Alastor's broadcast. His first on-air call in broadcast.

The two end up back in their apartment and Alastor corners Vox, questioning him on why he was throwing a ridiculous fit and trying to sabotage his opportunities.

They get into their first fight, screaming back and forth for the better part of an hour, before they finally give up and make up.

Alastor, feeling kind, suggests to their boss that they bring Vox onto a segment or two on the TV side of things to give him some on-air experience.

Vox did start getting airtime, a few times a week to be a guest on the main segment, but the studio is broke, so they can't pay him or offer too much extra time. Nonetheless, the audience loves his quick whit and charisma.

The two are friendly again, everything is okay.

They're shooting the shit at Alastor's desk when the studio manager comes up and tells Alastor he's going to be the main guest on the morning news show. This isn't an offer, its a requirement. The people want to see the face behind the voice.

Vox keeps his composure in front of their manager, but as soon as he rounds the corner, Vox storms off without a word.

The next day comes around and Alastor is not pleased with being on TV, but tries to reconcile things with vox by giving him a shout out on the air.

"You know, I'm not exactly cut out for being in front of the camera, a microphone is more my style. But my friend, Exavier Vox, is wonderful in front of the camera. You really need to bring him on some day!"

Vox, who is shadowing the show director that day, thinks that Alastor is mocking him. His pen breaks in his hand, he blames it on the pen and excuses himself to go clean up in the bathroom.

While on the show, Alastor mentions a few times that he's bringing a special guest onto his show, and that everyone in the college should tune in

Vox gets excited, thinking its himself.

Privately, Alastor mentions that it's not Rosie announcing a new show or anything like that, that would simply be an advertisement slot. It's something much more exciting than that. Plus, Rosie's already been on the show too much.

It hits Vox that, well, he's never been on the show.

A few days pass and Vox hasn't been asked to join the show.

The day of the show comes around. Alastor leaves the house looking much nicer than he usually does, even sporting a blazer over his usual suspenders and bowtie.

Vox goes into the office later than Alastor, but spots him escorting someone around. He peaks out of his office and sees none other than the Student Body President, Lucifer Morningstar.

Vox absolutely snaps.

After the broadcast, Alastor walks into the apartment and Vox immediately starts screaming. They get into an absolutely nasty fight, the worst they've ever had. They're throwing pens and books, it looks like your parents fights during the recession of 2008.

A few days later, Alastor is asked to observe Vox's broadcast, one of his first solo broadcasts. When the room is asked for comments, Alastor stays silent. The only time he says anything is to make a noncommittal comment about how Vox should speak up and enunciate his words better. Vox is fuming, and the producer agrees.

He sees this as utter and complete disrespect.

They end up going home separately, but as soon as both of them are in the apartment, the blowout fight happens.

Alastor storms out, slamming the door as he leaves to the only other safe place he can think of now that the studio is closed and Rosie is home for the weekend: his new friend Lucifer's house.

Alastor arrives with a smile so obviously fake that even nieve Lucifer can see through it.

Lucifer invites him in and makes a pot of coffee, knowing they're going to need it for the night.

Coffee switches into wine, and by the end of the night, Lucifer knows nearly everything about Alastor and Vox's dwindling friendship. They two somehow migrated to the floor, leaning against the couch with two empty bottles between their legs, a third being passed between them,

Lucifer offers to let Alastor stay on his couch for a few days while things simmer down. Alastor happily accepts.

The two get close quick. Alastor admits that he used to think Lucifer was annoying and not fit to be the student body leader. Lucifer admits that he used to think Alastor was pretentious and not worthy of all the attention the studio and media gave him.

By day four of Alastor and Lucifer practically living together, Alastor has to step outside to call Rosie, who was already driving home, to figure out this strange feeling in his stomach. Why did he feel so nervous around his friend? Why were his palms sweaty and his cheeks warm? Why did he want to impress him so badly?

You've got a crush, Alastor! Oh my- I never thought I'd see the day!

Alastor denies it for a few days, but finds that he doesn't want to leave Lucifer's side. Maybe Rosie's onto something. She did always know more about Alastor than he did himself.

About two weeks go by, Alastor's been avoiding Vox like the plague, but he eventually needs to go and get more of his things and clothes. He brings Lucifer with him, needing the moral support from his new not-boyfriend.

He thought he had the timing correct, thinking Vox was at the studio editing. Apparently, he had switched his editing slot with someone else that day. Alastor had no idea.

They enter the apartment and it's dead silent for a moment as everyone simply stares at each other.

As soon as Vox stands, Alastor steps in front of Lucifer protectively. This motion snaps Vox's patience. Vox looks Alastor up and down and shakes his head.

"You disgust me."

"I've done nothing to deserve this."

Vox is speechless, knowing he has a laundry list of reasons Alastor absolutely deserves this treatment and worse.

Lucifer steps in to try and mediate, asking why Vox feels like Alastor deserves this, trying to get both sides of the story. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Alastor, ever the instigator, nods, laughing.

"No no! Go ahead! Why do I deserve this treatment? What in the world have I done to you to make you hate me so incredibly much, my friend?

Vox starts in on him, counting off everything Alastor has done to hurt him, disrespect him, and disregard him. Everything he can think of is listed. Alastor just smiles and nods, egging him on. Lucifer puts his hand on Alastor's chest, trying to get him to stop, or at least calm down.

Vox sees the motion and his words die in his throat. He shakes his head again and walks to his room, grabbing his backpack and begins to pack his things.

"Vox, you don't have to do this. If you guys just take a deep breath and sit down, we can talk this-"

Lucifer is cut off by a glare from Vox and what sounds like a growl from Alastor behind him.

"Have fun with Mr. Student Body President, Alastor." Vox turns back to Lucifer and eyes him up and down. "Enjoy the spotlight while you have it, because when the dial turns to a new channel, no one will be around for you."

Lucifer is left absolutely speechless while Alastor is shaking with rage as the door slams behind him.

Please I beg someone talk to me about college au radioapple i am a radio broadcasting major and i have so many IDEAS and i just want to chat

[cruelanais-blog]

Consider this my (rather late) retirement from community interpreting

I am a seasoned interpreter.

I've wanted to describe myself as seasoned since I was 14.

I'm seasoned. I've got spices thrown about. Some will burn when heated. The smell. I'm smelly.

I'm 40, and I've been to a lot of different places to interpret for a rich tapestry of people.

I've worked for presidents, ministers, department heads (who are THE BEST), judges, international higher-ups.

I've worked for doctors, lawyers, engineers, vets, national and local cops, prison governors, salespeople, millionaires, mayors.

I've worked for people on the street - severely or mildly poorly people, people with cancer, people who are finally free of cancer, people whose children are in surgery, mentally ill people, people in recovery, people who've been violent, people who've had others be violent to them...

I've worked for children.

I've worked for a mother delivering their baby. It went on for 3 hours. I translated "push!" a couple more times than the midwife. I literally helped persuade the father not to be a dick.

I'm basically a call centre representative. I pick up the random call I receive, and who knows? It may be a delusional paranoid having psychoses.

It may be an unlucky guy who got fentanyl in his weed and didn't know it.

I invite the sick and the poorly and legally oppressed people into my bedroom every time I pick up the call. They have one thing in common - they have issues that need solving.

I've worked in 12 countries, btw. Mostly in Africa. Something to be a bit proud of.

And it's OK. I love working for people. I got ADHD. I'm meant to be having tantrums every time something mildly bad happens to me bc I'm not afraid to admit it gives me (false but ok) relief. I kinda love self-drama, too.

I love doinb ig. The job itself, amazeballs.

But I am a call centre representative and there's a script.

"Hi! (Yes they add that) This is Jasun Horucan, your [redacted] interpreter. ID Number: 9BG5JAlas:p How may I help you?"

...

If I get a 5-min call for a nurse to ask a patient in ER a vital question, I spend 3 minutes doing this. First you introduce yourself to the patient and then let the nurse know, and if you couldn't hear something you can ask for a repetition, but you need to let the physician know... Oh, Heaven Forbid, they don't understand a tiny word you've said to the patient!

Imagine your pharmacist doing this to you every time you needed prescription medicine... That information is confidential, too? Right?

Oh, then, I'm asked to say "Everything discussed here will remain confidential". How am I to make sure of that?

I can vouch for my own confidentiality, but for others'? Not really.

So I shoulder the whole burden of somebody calling the company and saying, "It was the interpreter that said it!"

I'm 40. I've been working for 20 years. I'm not trusted to do my job.

Imagine yourself sitting at a desk working and your boss (whoever that shithead is) is able to listen to every work conversation you have and emailing you every month about anything you may have said...

Right?

I had people way above my pay grade trust me with their words in a country they didn't know about.

I had million-dollar international projects trust me with being a good voice for them.

I wrote official letters at ministry headquarters, damn it!

Patients (should) already trust me with their information.

BTW: This is all playing into the hands of the AI'ers (I love you guys, no shade) who say we'll be replaced by whatever will come after us (there will be a different name for them, like a name and a surname :). It means an automaton controlled remotely may easily do what I do...

(except for saying "Push harder!" a few more times than the midwife)

I say "Get well soon!" to people. I give them my condolences. I don't care how they do it in wherever the doctor is; this is how we do it!

It is the cultural idiosyncrasy companies will forever ignore in their quality briefings (8 slides with single sentences on them).

And I don't work with people they looove to model in their 8 slides with single sentences on them - "Oh, we don't give honey to babies, now, do we?"

All ill or disabled or pregnant or physically self-progressive people aside, I work with refugees. They are at the intersection of having had trauma and experiencing trauma at the same time. I love working with them; the clients are not half-bad, either.

But it's not a mechanical voice they'd feel comfortable hearing. They really _ and really _ don't care about good accuracy (and I'm as accurate as you can get). They'll ask the questions in their minds and repeat it until they get what they want anyway... Another cultural idiosyncrasy!

Let me be human. Let me be the 20 years of experience I've had.

I worked in village barns in Central [redacted] once, with vets on a surveillance trip. We were to visit villages, find farms, and draw blood from butts of cows - to check for FMD. I met some amazing cows, calves, and kids there. In our last village on the first day, we, 1 old and 1 young vet and I, got stranded in a mountain village as the amazing lead _ the old vet, of course! _ had hired a BMW sedan for a trip to a cold area, expecting the heaviest snow in 20 years. But hey!

Once the sun set, the village got colder. We were soaking vet from all the disinfectant we'd showered ourselves with. Right at this point, the villagers said goodbye to our little freezing trio, leaving us thinking well, life's been good.

Finally, though, we were rescued right after sunset by a guy who was dropping off his child to their mother who apparently enjoyed turning his small van into a disco, blasting music as he sped down on winding roads.

Next morning, we called the mayor to arrange a snow plough, which we followed to the village in a taxi. We got the car back and this time, were minded to put on some chains, which eventually broke a couple of times along the way. The winding road the dad had pushed through at 80 now turned into the gates of frozen hell. We nearly had an accident.

Good days. Good days.

[xelizabethvalentinex]

My Hero // Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Summary: You find yourself in a sticky situation, but Bradley helps you out of it.

Word Count: 1.0k

It had been a busy day. You worked as a nurse at a local pediatrics hospital near the base Bradley was stationed at. He had insisted on it. Ever since you two started dating, your boyfriend had become obsessed with spending every waking moment with you when he wasn’t in the air or you weren’t helping sick kids. He couldn’t help it; you were his whole world.

Your morning started off great. Bradley was able to eat breakfast with you before heading off, not before giving you a passionate goodbye kiss. You arrived at work where your boss had treated everyone with donuts and your favorite coworker was waiting in the break room to spill all of the latest gossips. The rest of the morning went by smoothly. Checking up on patients and running some tests filled your time before lunch, but it all went downhill from there.

As you were sitting behind the front desk of your floor, putting in numbers and updating patient files, someone cleared their throat in front of you. You looked up and were shocked to see the man in front of you. Your ex-boyfriend from almost three years ago.

You gasped before you spoke. “Ethan. What are you doing here?” You asked. You had to admit, he looked good. Since you guys called it quits, he had grown into himself. He looked fit, his clothes hugging his body. His hair lay neat on his head, and his eyes were as blue as ever. They seemed to be staring straight through you. You grew uncomfortable and shivered as his eyes swept up and down your body.

“Daniel told me he saw you out on the town not too long ago, and through the grapevine, I found out you worked here now. I thought you would have told me you moved to my hometown,” he said with a smirk. You don't like where this was going. He was the past, and Bradley was your future, and there was nothing that could change that.

"You can't just show up at my work. I have things to do." You tried to get the point across that he needed to leave so that you could get back to work, but Ethan wasn't taking the hint.

"Come on. Go to lunch with me. It's almost lunchtime, and I highly doubt you have anything better to do." He suggested while leaning on the desk, seemingly trying to get closer to you. You shook your head. You always had a hard time telling people no, but you knew going on a lunch date with your ex-boyfriend wouldn't sit well with your current boyfriend.

"I have plans, Ethan, and even if I didn't, I don't think my boyfriend would like us hanging out," You tried to explain as you pushed away from the desk. You needed to create space between the two of you because from what you remember, he was one of the reasons you don't like to tell people no.

The man scowled as he processed what you had told him. "You don't have a boyfriend." That confused you. He couldn't know if you had a boyfriend or not. He wasn't a part of your life anymore for a reason.

"Yes, I do. We've been dating for almost a year now. Not that you would know because we haven't talked in almost three years," you clarified as you started tidying your work zone. The truth was you don't have lunch plans, other than grabbing a sandwich from the cafeteria, but Ethan didn't need to know that.

He scoffed. "You're lying."

"Actually, it's true," said another voice. Both you and Ethan quickly turned toward the voice, but each of you had a different reaction. You smiled while Ethan frowned. Bradley stood, in the flesh, looking as handsome as ever. His hair was wet, probably from the locker room shower, and his white tank was clinging to his tan chest. He was wearing one of his father's Hawaiian shirts to protect his shoulders. He hadn't left the house looking like this, but you weren't complaining.

Ethan scoffed once more. "And who are you?" He asked with a condescending tone.

"Bradley Bradshaw, call-sign 'Rooster'. I'm this lovely lady's boyfriend, here to take her on a date," Bradley replied, sending his bright smile my way. "Who are you?" He asked with an equally condescending tone.

"This is Ethan and he was just leaving. If you'd excuse me," you said as you slipped from behind the desk. One of your coworkers had stepped out from the back to cover your lunch and was amused to see the stand-off that was currently happening between the two men.

As soon as you made it within Bradley's arm's reach, he was pulling you into his side. His skin was warm but inviting. He pressed a kiss into your temple before looking back at Ethan with a smug smile.

Ethan took this as a sign of defeat. He huffed, rolled his eyes, and made his way toward the exit. Before he left, he said, "when you're done with this little boy, call me and you can have a real man."

This made both Bradley and you laugh with your whole body. "That won't be happening. We appreciate the offer though," your boyfriend responded to Ethan's back, flipping him the bird after. You shook your head. This man, the man you got to go to bed with almost every night, made you the happiest person on earth.

You turned towards him. "When were you going to tell me you were stopping by to be my knight in shining armor?"

"I guess I must have some sort of sixth sense that can tell where you're about to deal with a grade-A douche bag," he says with a smile. "Anyway, where are we going to eat because I'm starving."

You look at your coworker who is still watching the events that are happening in front of them, nod in thanks, and start leading Bradley towards the door. "I'm in the mood for some Chinese food and there's a great place just around the corner. What do you say?" You ask while gazing into Bradley's pretty brown eyes.

"Lead the way, sweet thing."

[messedupfan]

Reaching Out to The Stars (Wanda Maximoff x Reader) Part 3

No pronouns used

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support and for reading!

Masterlist | All Parts

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

“Come on boys! I'm already late for work,” Wanda calls out as she gathers her notes into her briefcase. It had been several days since your shuttle launched. Wanda invited Peggy, Pepper, and Bucky over so the group of them could support each other as they watched their loved ones lift off into space. Carol and Jean came over as well simply because they had to be there for Wanda.

The twins thought it was the coolest thing seeing the space shuttle launch, knowing that you were inside. Wanda almost didn't let them watch because she was afraid they'd witness your death. But, of course, all was well.

Now, they couldn't wait to get to school to brag to everyone that one of their parents is in space along with other members of their family. But they were struggling to get the picture frame open so they could bring one of the many family photos as proof for the kids at school. No one would believe that you were their parent without it. That's how Wanda finds them. In your study, trying to break open a picture frame.

“What are you two doing?” Wanda startles them, causing Billy to drop and break the picture frame. Wanda shakes her head with a sigh. “Scoot,” she directs them with her fingers. They dutifully separate from each other and she bends down to pick up the item. Her lips curl up to the side at your grinning face through the cracked glass in the picture. “I miss them too, but why are you trying to steal a picture before school? Don't you have plenty on the iPods they got you last week?”

“Yeah, but we can't bring them out at school to show everybody,” Billy explains.

“Right! And this is so cool! We have to! Please mom! We have to show everybody!” Tommy begs her excitedly. Wanda loves that the boys are proud of you but as they were already running late, she had to usher them out of the office without photographic proof after she placed the broken frame on your desk.

Once Wanda arrives at work, the first thing she sees is her own twin's smiling face on the television in the lobby. He was an anchorman of a popular local news station. She stops to watch him for a second and smiles when she sees your face beside his before her attention is pulled away with an emergency. Assuming it was just another congratulations report she ignores what her brother is saying and rushes to the dressing room to get into her scrubs.

Pietro reads off of the teleprompter with his winning smile until he understands the words he is saying. “...and Natasha Romanoff have all— Guys what the fuck is this? Is this real?” He directs his attention to the crew behind the camera. “When did this happen? When did this come in?” He angrily rises from his seat. “This isn't funny… someone better confess! I'm not laughing! This is a sick joke guys,” the camera stays on because no one knows what to do. They're all frozen, not just from Pietro's reaction but from the news itself. Pietro frantically begins to try and pull out his mic pack. “Wanda. Shit. I have to go, I have to go!” His co-host, Raven, helps him out of the gear and sends him off.

When he arrives at the hospital he is brought to a waiting room full of red eyes. “She’s in a surgery… w-we can't tell her yet.” Jean brokenly explains. Pietro sighs and sits down next to Bucky. He gives his friend a sympathetic pat on his shoulder. It hurts him to see Pepper and Peggy there as well but he appreciates that they all came for his sister in this tragic event. He looks down to see Peggy holding her newborn and quickly looks away.

His phone rings and he has to prevent himself from crying when he answers. “Hi mom,” she asks him if what was said on the news was true. “Yeah, mom, it's looking like that.” He hears her gasp. Two men in uniform arrive into the room and Bucky stands up to remove them. He wanted them out of there and never wanted to see their faces again. Pietro looks away to talk to his mother. “No, she doesn't know yet… because she's with a patient. She has to do her job… Yes, I'm staying here… Can you please pick up the kids… You're right. Dad should do it. How'd he take the news?”

Carol abruptly stands and everyone looks at her. “I… can't be here,” she takes off her badge and hands it to Jean. The redhead starts to shake her head, knowing her friend's pattern. But Carol doesn't want to hear it. “I’m sorry but I…” she fails to finish her sentence.

“They wouldn't want this for you and you know it!” Jean argues.

Carol scoffs, “It doesn't matter what they would want anymore! They're no longer—”

“Watch it!” Pietro cuts her off. “If you're going to throw your life away, that's on you. Don't use this as an excuse. It's not fair to them.” He moves his glare away from her and brings his cell back to his ear. “Sorry mom, what were you saying?”

Carol looks to Jean one last time before leaving the waiting room to drive to the nearest bar. It had taken you two years to help her quit drinking. By then it was already too late for her marriage but you helped remind her that she still had herself and her daughter, Monica, to stay sober for. Now, she just doesn't believe that she has the strength to face this kind of pain without a drink.

Jean bites her lips to keep from crying, she felt that it wasn't fair for her to break down when everyone else was still holding it together. Bucky returns with a confused expression, “I just saw Danvers leave. What happened?” Jean looks up at him with glassy eyes and he frowns. Bucky replaces Carol and puts his arm around Jean. “It’s going to be okay,” he comforts her, which only makes her feel worse. This isn't fair. None of this was fair.

It isn't another few hours until Jean gets the warning page that Wanda is out of surgery and headed to the room. Carol returns just then, surprisingly sober. “I bought a few shots but… I kept hearing Y/n’s nagging voice in the back of my head and I couldn't do it. I'm sorry for the dramatics. Does she know yet?”

“Does who know what yet?” Wanda’s voice startles the blonde. When she turns around she sees her smiling friend, the sight nearly breaks her. “What is this? Why is everyone… here?” Her words slow down as her smile fades and the dots start to connect. She looks to her twin. If anyone was going to tell her what she didn't want to hear, she wanted it to be him. But he remains silent. “Pietro,” she demands. Bucky opens his mouth but she holds her hand up to stop him. “Pietro,” she calls again.

The man adjusts his jaw and takes a steady breath. He tilts his head towards the ceiling to hold back the tears a little longer before he finally stands and walks over to his sister. “The shuttle has gone offline. There's no trace of it anywhere. They think…” he takes another breath, this one much shakier than the last. “They lost contact a few days ago and haven't found them anywhere. They have all been declared… dead.” He finally says the word and it hits every person in the room harshly.

Out of disbelief, Wanda strikes Pietro across the face. She stares up at him with an anger that he knows isn't towards him but he was the only one there to receive it. She raises her hand again but he catches it and pulls her against him in a hug despite her struggle against him. She screams at him to get off of her but he continues to hold her until she collapses against him in utter despair. One by one, everyone in the room stands from their seats to offer Wanda as much comfort as they could.

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

“This is ridiculous,” Wanda grouches as she adjusts her hair in the mirror. “Y/n isn't dead. I don't know why everyone is acting like they are. Natasha, Thor, Steve, Tony, Loki… they are all out there! They wouldn't give up on us if it was the other way around so why are we?” She shouts at her mother. The woman was sitting on your bed, listening to her daughter rant yet again about the possibility that everyone was still alive.

“I know that this is hard for you sweetheart. But you need to keep this to yourself, at least around the boys—”

“Why? Shouldn't they believe that Y/n is alive? Shouldn't they believe in miracles? That's what we agreed to teach them!”

“Honey, it's confusing enough as it is without you giving them this false hope—”

“False hope? Mom, I know the person I married. Y/n would've never abandoned our family! If something truly bad happened there would have been evidence, there would have been a trace of… I don't know… Something! But there wasn't!” Wanda argues back to the tired woman. She sighs, not wanting to argue with her daughter but knowing it was for the benefit of her grandsons.

“And what happens when they don't come back? Huh? What do you plan on telling Tommy and Billy when Y/n doesn't come home like they were supposed to? Please, let's just go to the funeral. You can believe whatever you want to but today you are letting those boys say goodbye.”

Wanda scoffs, unphased by her mother's stern tone that would have her tail between her legs as a child. “I am not burying an empty coffin and letting my kids think their parent is dead.” Wanda starts to take her jewelry off.

“Not even to support your friends? They lost their loved ones too, Wanda! I did not raise you to be so selfish.”

“Stop saying that! We didn't lose them forever! None of them are dead! Why won't you believe me?” Iryna throws her hands up and asks her daughter to explain why Wanda is so sure that you were still alive. “Because I would've known if I lost my soulmate for good. I would have felt it! But I didn't. You want to know why? It's because I can still feel them! They are still alive, I know it! They just need to send a rescue team or look harder! They gave up so fast… they just need to keep looking.”

Iryna pinches the bridge of her nose. “Honey, they have denied every request you've made. No one is going to—”

“Stark!” Wanda shouts. “Of course! Why hadn't I thought of this earlier?” She quickly grabs the jewelry to wear again. Her mom asks her what she is doing and she rolls her eyes as if the answer was obvious. “Tony’s dad, mom. Howard Stark. He's loaded and has a lot of connections. There's no way he won't help me.”

“No!” Iryna shouts. “You will not bother this man at his son's funeral!” Wanda scoffs at the word again. She found it ridiculous that they were calling it a funeral. To her it was just an extravagant way of announcing that everyone had given up. She still wanted no part of it but how else was she supposed to get a hold of such an important and busy man. “You will not manipulate that poor man into funding your delusions today!” Irritated by her daughter, Iryna leaves the room as Wanda finishes getting ready.

Pietro asks his mother if his sister will be joining them and she tells him no. That they should get going. He tries to offer to talk to her but Iryna claims that Wanda is hysterical and should be left alone. “That’s when she shouldn't be left alone, mom. She needs someone to stay with her.” Iryna sighs and drops her face into her hands.

“I don't want her to go to this event, okay? She's only going to be disruptive and these people deserve to grieve in peace!” Iryna throws her hands in the air. She then grabs Tommy and Billy's hands, “Let’s go boys. We don't want to be late,” she speaks to the sad children softly. Pietro looks to the stairs and sighs as he follows his mother out to the car. Maybe she was right to keep Wanda away from something she didn't even want to attend.

Unfortunately for them, Wanda does show up. She is quiet until the coffins are in the ground and everyone is able to disperse. Pietro watches his sister carefully throughout the event and doesn't see her shed a single tear. He finds it odd since his mother described her as hysterical. As he moves to go to her, he sees that she's already gone. She is making her way to Howard Stark. It takes him less than a second to realize what she is trying to do and he rushes past people to get to her. But he wasn't fast enough.

Wanda taps the grieving man on his shoulder. “Excuse me sir. I'm not sure if you remember me much, we've only met a handful of times. I was one of Tony's friends.” The man acknowledges her with an apology for the loss of her spouse but she doesn't accept it. “What would you do if I told you that they were all still alive. My spouse, your son, their friends. All of them!”

“Wanda!” Pietro scolds. “Stop this.”

“No, Pietro. He can help, he can help us find them.”

Howard holds his hand up to stop Pietro from getting after his sister. “Young lady, why do you think it has taken several months for this funeral to be arranged?” Wanda is unable to form an answer and Howard stops her before she can. “It's because I have been breathing down the neck of every man capable of finding my son. I didn't want to believe it either. I have pulled every string, exhausted every resource and the results are all the same. They are gone. There is no trace of them anywhere. Now, I am terribly sorry for your loss. Please, let this go.”

He walks away from the twins and Pietro gently places his hand on Wanda's back. She pushes him away and walks off to her car. She needed to be alone to have time to process. The man's harsh truth made it feel like you were slipping away from her. She needed to feel close to you again. So she drove straight to the bar the two of you met. She orders the same drink that she did that night and she waits. For some reason she thought that would bring you back to her. That all she had to do was recreate the moment almost completely. But you don't walk through those doors. You don't convince her to take a shot of tequila. You don't spend the night entertaining her. She hadn't realized she was crying until the bartender asked if she needed to call someone to pick her up.

Wanda shakes her head as she pays for her drink and leaves. She knew that needed to learn how to keep going without you. If not for herself or for the kids then at least for you. She knew that you wouldn't want her holding onto some hopeless dream. The last thing you would want is for Wanda to be living on that barstool in an old outfit for the rest of her life, waiting for you to return.

That night, after she cries herself to sleep, she feels a dip in the bed and a familiar body curl up against her. “I had to get to you,” you mutter tiredly. You give her a lazy kiss on the cheek and sigh as you hold her a little tighter. She feels you slip away, unable to keep you in her arms. And just like that, Wanda knows that you're gone for good.