#nothing of mine is beta read oop

[fool-errant]

Company

Oops my hand slipped.

This is hot off the keyboard. No beta - we die like gnomes. Just felt like getting this out. As much as Astarion needs a hug and cuddles I imagine getting him to understand or accept the concept would be hard. Which is how we ended up here. Halla is my current PC - she's an actual DnD tabletop character of mine I dumped into the game. She's a lot better with words when she's doing her usual conniving shit. In this case - she's trying to be genuine. Which is new for everyone. They are both bad at this which is why I feel they work. Halla is a half elf bard - whose very meh with elven shit. And this takes place in the front half of Act 2. No spoilers in it just set dressing.

Astarion wasn’t sure why he’d assumed the nightmares wouldn’t reach him Here. Out in the middle of this godsdamned land covered in shadows. The land was brutal enough he’d thought he would be too tired for Cazador -even a memory of him -to reach. The worm was clearly eating the intelligent part of his brain.

As his mind cleared he found himself sitting up clutching his knees. His racing thoughts started dying down as he made his eyes focus on the campfire in front of him. The glow warding off the darkness of the curse and now his own dreams. A delicate cough attracted his attention from the fire. He found himself meeting a familiar pair of gold eyes. “Darling,” he said quietly with a forced smile. The woman wordlessly sat next to him. Close enough for him to feel her warmth but not touching him. Ever since their talk about their, whatever they were doing, she seemed more careful to not touch him. An odd amount of care that gnawed on him, being treated so delicately. Like he was made of glass. Him. It’d be funny if it wasn’t a relief. “Dreams again.” It was a question that wasn’t. She gave him a look he was unable to read. Concern?  Exasperation? Exhaustion? It was late, and the days had not been kind to anyone. “It was noth-” he tried to shrug it off with a laugh. A lie. But the bard’s face changed to a more readable expression. Skepticism. He trailed off awkwardly. They had talked about being more…upfront. “It was Him.” he finally spat out. “Cazador.” The name hung in the air - sullying the aura of the campfire. Halla held out her hand. After a moment of hesitation he accepted it and found himself clinging to it like it and soon her whole arm like it was a rock in a raging river. Leaning slightly he found her bony shoulder under his cheek. Pushing himself closer, the woman offered no resistance, just a small hum in response. He breathed the scent of her, warm skin, her blood, her sweat, leather oil and the pine rosin she was always using on her violin. “Sorry about the stink, I need to do the washing,” she sighed. “It’s been hard to get the laundry service out here. Turns out they all run the other way when they hear “shadow curse.” He smiled weakly. It was a poor stab at humor, but it was still funnier than his lingering dreams. He briefly wondered about telling her he didn’t mind. That the earthy smells were better than the stale old decay and rot of his nightmares. That probably was something best left to himself. “I hope I didn't wake you. Did I?" nightmares were embarrassing. Nightmares where you were so loud you woke others were mortifying.

“Nah” she shook her head, her brown hair glinting gold in the firelight. “It’s my turn to keep watch. I drew the short straw tonight.” she offered with a shrug. The short straw was usually the darkest/latest shift in the night watch rotation. But in this place, there was little difference from the brightest to the darkest parts. Or even a night or day. Exactly how long they had been here was hard to calculate. Days flew by without any indicators but new injuries and horrors. It reminded him of the days in Cazador’s kennels, hours and weeks swept by like a stranger with no notice or regard. That might have been what brought the nightmares plaguing him tonight. The monotonous misery.

“Do you mind giving me my arm back?” Halla’s voice cut into his thoughts.  Oh. He was dragged back to the here and now, the campfire. Clinging to this woman like he was a child with a security blanket. Fool. He let go of her arm like it was burning. “Karlach’s shift’s coming up.” she said getting to her feet. Straightening up Astarion nodded and gestured for her to go on. 

Standing up with a stretch he turned to walk into his tent. Try to salvage the night - get some rest before they marched back into the cursed dark and shadows. If the shadows would leave him alone. He was about to duck into his tent when he heard a familiar voice behind him. “Erm.” Turning over his shoulder was Halla. She was probably here to chide him for being scared of nightmares, tell him it was nothing to worry about. “You uh…” she faltered, “want to come to my tent?” So that’s what this was. He’d assumed she was too tired for this. Shadowlands were hardly known for their, erotic qualities. Maybe this was payment. Get a shoulder to cry on, give some pleasure. He’d wondered how much of his words she had heard, how much she had meant of him making his own choices. Or how little she cared for sex. He had hoped. But he was a fool.  “If that’s what you want.” he said trying to hide his exhausted resignation. She bristled, “Not like that.” she replied. “I meant.” her hands wringing, “I mean. Not for that.” She was usually so good at words it would have been amusing to watch her flounder if it weren’t his nerves she was playing like a bow string. “Want to sl-” she stopped gnawing on her lower lip before finally she spat out something that it took him a moment to realize was elven true tongue.   The words for a night's rest and meditation. “Rest with me?” Her tone and language so formal and stiff it was impossible to sound lewd. “What?” he found himself staring at her in bewilderment. “If that was a proposition you have no right to critique mine.” The woman was of some elven blood so it wasn’t a surprise she knew the tongue. She had just never spoken it before. Her face was turning red, a performance he’d never seen her do before. “Do you want to rest with me?” she repeated again in Common her tone quiet. “Just rest. Just sleep. Nothing else. You don’t have to, you can say no if you want to. I just thought you could use the company.” Being alone he was used to. Even in a crowded room, or stacked like kindling with his “siblings” in their bunks. But did he want to be? Now? In this endless night and shadow. “I think” he swallowed. “I think I would like that.” He let her take him by the hand, as she led him to her tent. Karlach settling down by the fire, sharpening her axe, glanced up and smiled like she was going to say something but was silenced with a glare from Halla. The tiefling made a gesture like she was locking her mouth and went back to her business. He ducked to get through the door of the bard’s tent. She drew the drape over the entrance as they came in. They’d made love under the stars, fucked in his bedroll, but he had never gone into her tent. It had felt wrong to do that while he was toying with her, using her. Even with the new found freedom of the parasite it felt wrong to cross the threshold. Violate what odd trust she had given to him. But now he was being led in. It felt strange to be invited so warmly. Reminded him of all the other times he’d been trusted and shouldn’t have been. This was going to end badly. “One moment.” she said and tapped a lantern. The gray darkness of the tent was illuminated into a warm glow. The floor was a beaten battered carpet stolen in their wanderings. Its original design, now worn and faded, still provided some color and degree of separation from the dirt. A few books and scrolls were scattered about. Her boots and hat were carefully placed next to a stool where her armor rested. Ready at a moment's notice. Removing her sandals - the woman began arranging her bedroll and blankets. “You can make yourself comfortable.” Glancing around he tried to find a place to sit, but the only spare cushion that wasn’t part of her bedroll was providing a resting place for her violin. Touching that would be more of an invasion than entering her tent. Gesturing around the room he looked at her quizzically. 

“Oh don’t be so dramatic. You can move that and sit there, if you prefer to meditate sitting up” she gestured at the musical instrument. “Or you can join me. If you like.” “I thought you said-” “I said sleep. And I mean sleep.” she said with more patience than he felt he deserved. Getting to her feet - she stooped, though less than he had to and gently placed her hands on his face. Lightly. Giving him space to move away if he wanted. He didn’t move from her touch. “We can share a bedroll,  blanket, or pillows or whatever you like.” she said gently. She kneeled back down onto the bedroom and started to stretch out, pulling blankets over her. Leaving some for him, he noticed. A sweet gesture even if he didn’t need it. Carefully he laid down next to her, not touching her at all. When was the last time he’d shared a bed with someone? He wondered. Just for sleep. Not post cloitally. Surely he must have at some point when he was young. Alive. Those days were a blur to him. A blur of sunshine and comfort that swam away when he tried to focus on it. As Halla began to shift her pillow around he was pulled from his musings by a glint of metal. He reached under her pillow and his hand found a stiletto knife. “I never expected you to be the sort to use blades in the bedroom.” “That’s not for you.” she said rolling her eyes, taking the blade from him. “Old habit.” With that she tucked it back under her pillow. She wasn’t asking him if he cared or was concerned about it. He decided not to press her hospitality any further. An odd mix of naivete and steel. Sweet enough to invite a vampire to lay next to her but savvy enough to keep a knife close. He could respect that. “You can turn off the lamp if you want.” she murmured her voice half muffled by her pillow. She sounded like she was halfway off to dreaming. He hoped hers were more pleasant than his had been.

The light was better than shadows, real or imagined he decided. Leaving the lamp lit he closed his own eyes and tried to get himself to rest as well. At least for the moment he wasn't alone in the dark.

[hualianff]

How To Piss Off Your Boss

Chef HC AU

A few months ago, by some miracle, Hai Ye successfully earned a position at Crimson Embers–a lavish dining establishment serving an array of traditional dishes from different regions. It has outstanding reviews praising the exquisite interior, seasonally rotating menu, and delicious food.

It’s been HY's goal since entering culinary school to work in a kitchen with other professionals who have the same visions as him when it comes to cooking. After completing his studies and working in a small restaurant in his hometown for five years, HY finally gets to pursue his dream in the big city.

Crimson Embers opens at 3 p.m. and closes at 10 p.m. Only seven hours of business, and yet, it’s one of the most popular upscale restaurants in the region. Reservations line up months ahead of time; walk-ins are still encouraged too because of how spacious the establishment is. Those seven hours are one of the most stressful shifts HY has had the experience of working in. He’s very proud of the work he does, as a cook and as a collective whole with the kitchen too.

On a regular Monday, everyone arrives for their shift three hours ahead of opening to prepare the fresh ingredients, sauces, meats, drinks, etc. The sight of the CEO of Crimson Embers, Hua Cheng, cleaning the already spotless counters greets them when they arrive in the kitchens. Apparently, HC has decided to not only visit this particular branch for the week but also take on the head chef’s duties and monitor the workers himself. 

All the cooks rush to throw on their aprons, tie back their hair, and wash their hands. HY follows his colleagues, blood pounding in his ears as his nerves threaten to get the best of him. Everyone naturally forms a line in front of the longest counter to stand at attention as HC waits expectantly at the front of the kitchen. 

“Everyone, it’s been a while since my last visit. I see some familiar faces-“ HC’s eye flickers down the line, landing on HY, whose posture is as straight as a rod. “-and some new faces. Regardless, I welcome you guys to another day of hard work, teamwork, and top-notch cooking. Every single one of you is here for a reason. This team may be smaller than others, however, you guys are just as capable of serving the best foods in the country and ensuring excellent customer service.”

HC shrugs off his maple-red long coat to reveal a chef’s shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. HY spots a hint of tattoos peeking underneath the sleeves, intrigued. HC doesn’t exactly portray the image of a CEO in the restaurant industry. He’s relatively young, long hair swept back into a braid, inked up, and with an eyepatch to top the look. HY has nothing but admiration for him.

“Let’s do a great job today. Let’s do our best,” HC says resolutely. He slams his palm down onto the counter with a loud thud! “Begin.”

“Understood!” Every cook shouts in unison, then scrambles to their stations to rapidly food prep for the night shift.

The hours leading up to the restaurant’s opening are a bit maddening. Everyone is on their best behavior, zoned in on their work under their CEO’s watchful gaze. As soon as customers start filtering in, the impending shitshow is set to begin. All the employees have arrived, including the servers who zip in and out of the kitchen doors like a hoard of worker bees. 

HC is very firm and direct with his orders. His voice, though not the loudest, holds the most power, which he wields as an experienced leader to run things smoothly. Unfortunately, when it gets extremely busy during the night, the head server requests HY to leave the kitchen to seat people because the other servers are busy, and HY has almost a decade of serving knowledge under his belt.

When HY walks to the entrance, there’s a man at the front of the line, dressed in plain black jeans and a white, long-sleeved turtleneck. His long hair is neatly tied back into a low ponytail, black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. His outfit is simple in style, but he pulls it off exquisitely. HY swallows nervously before asking if the man has a reservation.

“No, I don’t. Though I was hoping I could get a table for two?” The stranger asks with kind eyes. The glasses don’t do anything to obscure how vibrant they shine in the bold lighting of the restaurant. 

“O-of course. Right away, sir,” HY replies. The man in white smiles warmly and HY’s heart skips a beat. He gestures for the stranger to follow him, leading the guest to a quiet corner near the window. Luckily, since it’s only the man and whoever he’s dining with tonight, a small table was readily available. 

“Can I get you started with anything to drink?” HY politely asks. The handsome man quickly looks over the drinks menu. The strands of hair too short to be contained by the hairband fall to frame the man’s face. He quickly tucks them behind his ear, then points to one of the cheapest options. 

“I think the Makgeolli will do. It’s my partner’s favorite,” the man orders. HY enthusiastically nods. 

“I’ll have that out right away, sir.”

“By the way, is the owner free? Hua Cheng?” The man inquires. He crosses his legs in an elegant display that shows off their muscles and length, straining against the jeans’ fabric. HY tries not to stare as the man’s glasses slide down his nose a bit, to which he pushes them back up with a flick of his slender fingers.

“Hua Cheng is here, yes. But he's very busy,” HY informs apologetically. “I’m not sure he has time at the moment.”

The man tilts his head, looking slightly puzzled. For a brief second, he looks as if he’s analyzing HY’s appearance. After an understanding nod, the man relents his question.

“No worries. Thank you for seating me,” the man says, maintaining his mellow tone. HY bends at his waist in a half-bow, then heads back into the kitchens. He has to go back to his station to add the finishing seasonings on the meats–not before informing a server of a guest who requires Makgeolli.

“A full bottle,” HY adds. Just to be generous. No one thinks anything of it.

Ten minutes pass as the kitchen is bustling with bodies moving in all directions and the chopping of knives on cutting boards. That is, until the head server bursts through the doors with an ultra-panicked expression on her face.

“Why did nobody tell me Xie-xiansheng is here!?”

The chaos in the kitchen comes to a dead stop: mid-slice, mid-fry, mid-mix, mid-squeeze. Everyone stares blankly at the head server, who waves her arms towards the dining area with wild eyes.

“Xie-xiansheng is out there right now, sitting ALONE, and just ordered the special meal he and Hua Lao Ban always share,” she frantically rushes out. This snaps several workers out of their shock. 

“Oh shit-“

“Xie-xiansheng has been here the entire time and we didn’t know-!?”

“Someone get Hua Lao Ban-“

“NO! Don’t get him yet, otherwise he’ll skin our asses alive!”

“Fuck, put the special at the top of the list- go go GO!”

HY’s mind spins with the casual conversations he overheard about HC’s partner. He doesn't know much besides how many find HC’s husband to be exceptionally kind and beautiful. HY hasn’t even had the chance to look at a picture of XL, much less meet him since HY has started working at Crimson Embers.

Wait a damn minute.

Was that man he seated…HC’s husband?

HY feels like throwing up upon realizing he had unknowingly signed his death wish. 

“Why the hell is no one working? Do you not see the crowd of guests out there waiting for their food?” An authoritative voice barks, entering from the back of the kitchen, holding up three plates of exquisite, garnished roasted duck. HC walks through the kitchen with his shoulders set back in confidence, his tall height bearing over the other cooks. “Everyone, get back to work! NOW!”

Before anyone can stop him, HC exits through the kitchen doors to the dining lobby, serving the dishes to the guests himself. The employees look at each other with fearful expressions. Their hearts have nearly stopped beating in their chests, HY’s heart skipping a beat for a whole other reason now. 

They are so screwed.

《II》

[jaskierswolf]

HOWDY SOULMATE OF MINE. Can I please have some Jaskilion? I want lingerie and I want make up and I want blindfolds and I will cry if I don't get it. No pressure.

Let's just ignore the fact this is four months later... Oops. Please don't cry! Oh and thanks to @kuripon for beta-ing! This is based in my modern Jaskilion AU but all parts read well on their own as well.

This is Jaskilion smut. Rated E. Pretty much the prompt with added blowjobs.

________

Silence was rare in Jaskier and Dandelion’s flat. They were both musically inclined which led to a cacophony of sound in the house. If they weren’t practicing for their fledgling band, then one or the other of them would be humming under their breath or scribbling down some rhyme on whatever paper they could find. So, silence was something that couldn’t often be found, and was not really appreciated by either musician. However, the silence in the flat that day was building an unspoken tension between them and Jaskier was loath to break it. It wasn’t often that he unpacked his drawing set, but words had escaped him for over a week and he was itching to create something, anything. The portrait had been Dandelion’s idea, and Jaskier loved any excuse to draw his friend.

Dandelion was, for lack of a better word, absolutely stunning. His almost elf-like beauty had lured Jaskier in like a moth to a flame… or more accurately a barista to the supply closet. It also made him a perfect subject for Jaskier’s drawing practice.

Especially when he sat so prettily on the chair, his hands tied behind his back and a silk tie wrapped around his head, keeping him blinded. Dandelion was wearing his favourite emerald green silk lingerie, the vibrant colour looking fucking radiant against his pale skin and long golden curls. To top the look off, his lips were painted a rich blood red and he looked absolutely sinful. Jaskier was having a hard time focusing on his drawing, pun intended.

He wanted nothing more than to rip that stupidly pretty silk off of Dandelion’s body but his friend had made him promise that he would finish his sketch first. It was going torturously slowly. He’d just about blocked out the rough shape but he was losing patience, which just wasn’t fair. Even tied to a chair and blindfolded, Dandelion still managed to command the room when he wanted. It was infuriating, and just a little bit sexy.

Jaskier sighed as he set aside his sketchpad, the sound clearly drawing Dandelion’s attention as the blond cocked his head.

“Jaskier?”

“I’m here,” he muttered, sighing again as he crossed the room, making sure his steps were audible even on the rug. He didn’t want to startle his friend. “I’m going to touch you.”

“How’s the drawing?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes as he brushed his fingers along Dandelion’s cheek. “Let me worry about that, you just stay sitting there for me, dear heart.”

“Well, I don’t appear to have much choice,” Dandelion scoffed haughtily, tugging half-heartedly at the silk ties behind his back. “I am your prisoner.”

Jaskier trailed his fingers down his friend’s neck, tracing the edges of the bra straps, enjoying the feel of the silk against his skin. He was delighted to see Dandelion’s shiver at his touch. He was even more delighted to see Dandelion’s cock straining against the silk panties. Despite his talk, Dandelion was not as unaffected as he liked to appear.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Jaskier chided gently, letting his fingers hook under the silk, brushing against his friend’s nipples. He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and Dandelion tilted his head back.

Jaskier bit back any other witty remarks as he removed his hands and as silently as possible, moved away from Dandelion. His friend let out a pitiful whine and just like that the power shifted between them and Jaskier smirked. The rug muffled the sound of his footsteps as he moved behind Dandelion, and the only sound in the room was the thundering of his own heart. It felt so loud in his chest he was sure that Dandelion would be able to hear it. Dandelion blindly looked around the room, cocking his head as he tried to pick up any sound that would give away Jaskier’s position.

“You better not have left me here,” Dandelion mumbled, sounding offended by the idea of it.

Jaskier barely managed to keep from laughing. They’d agreed that he would stay in the room the whole time, and he knew Dandelion trusted him to keep that promise, but Jaskier gently touched his friend’s shoulder. Dandelion yelped and jumped in his seat, letting out a string of profanities and finally Jaskier allowed himself to make a noise.

“Okay?” he asked, grinning despite himself.

“You bastard,” Dandelion grumbled but still leaned into Jaskier’s touch as Jaskier ran his fingers through his friend’s hair.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Jaskier promised and circled Dandelion, never taking his hands off Dandelion’s skin, trailing his fingers down Dandelion’s chest as he knelt in front of him.

He barely remembered to breathe as he looked up at his friend, blindfolded and so helpless above him. The trust they had in each other was unlike anything Jaskier had experienced before. It was a heady feeling, and there was no doubt how deep his friendship with Dandelion was. Anyone that said romance was more important than friendship needed a bollocking, and Jaskier sent up a quick prayer to any gods that might exist, thanking them for both Dandelion, and Geralt’s acceptance of their untraditional friendship.

Jaskier truly had hit the jackpot with the two of them. He smiled as he pressed a kiss to Dandelion’s thigh, nipping gently at the sensitive skin. Above him, Dandelion pulled at the ties and whined again.

“Patience, darling,” Jaskier murmured as he brushed his lips along Dandelion’s thigh before mouthing at the silk panties that barely concealed his friend’s cock. Dandelion scoffed and opened his mouth to shoot back some no doubt biting remark, but Jaskier cut him off. “Perhaps we should have gagged you as well.”

Dandelion just pouted, making Jaskier chuckle as he hooked his fingers under the top of the panties, pulling them down enough to expose Dandelion’s hard cock, already leaking against the soft pretty fabric. The sight made Jaskier’s mouth dry and he licked his lips before pressing a kiss to Dandelion’s stomach, delighting as the muscles rippled under his lips.

“Oh fuck,” Dandelion groaned, “bloody tease.”

“Hmm, you love it,” Jaskier murmured, reaching up to brush his fingers along Dandelion’s bra.

Dandelion had always been very responsive, but never quite like this. It seemed that every touch had the musician on edge, whimpering, gasping, moaning, and Jaskier was fucking addicted. He wasn’t usually one to tease this much, he didn’t have the patience for it, but he was just having too much fun. Still, he had promised to make it up to his friend, and he would hate to break his word, so finally he pressed a kiss to Dandelion’s cock, licking at the slit before taking just the tip into his mouth, suckling lightly, just a tease of what was to come. Jaskier felt Dandelion’s cock twitch in his mouth and his friend let out an obscene moan which only spurred Jaskier on more.

He groaned as he pulled off, licking a stripe down the length as his fingers dug into the soft skin of Dandelion’s thighs. He nosed at the base of Dandelion’s cock before kissing along the underside until he reached the tip once more, bobbing his head as he took it back into his mouth, enjoying the weight on his tongue. Dandelion’s whimpers and moans were tantalizing, making his own cock achingly hard in his trousers and he shifted so he could grind down on his feet, desperate for any kind of friction.

“Wanna see you,” Dandelion panted, still straining against the silk ties. They would come loose if he really wanted, but it was a pretty sight watching him struggle.

Jaskier hummed around his friend’s cock, slowly working to relax his jaw as he took Dandelion further into his mouth. Reluctantly he released one of his friend’s thighs, stroking his hand up until it was pressing against Dandelion’s balls through the silk fabric. Dandelion gasped and bucked forward as best as he could given his restraints, mumbling an apology as Jaskier almost choked on his cock. Instead, Jaskier moaned as he doubled down on his efforts, rocking his own hips forward as he licked and sucked at his friend’s cock with all the grace of a drunk at their local nightclub, but his own arousal was making it hard to think about skill. Judging by the sounds Dandelion was making, his friend didn’t seem to care.

“Oh, oh fuck!” Dandelion hissed, gasping for breath. He was close so Jaskier moaned as he made one last effort, humming around his friend’s cock as it nudged the back of his throat, pulling back just enough as Dandelion came, Jaskier’s name falling off his lips in a prayer. Jaskier suckled at Dandelion’s cock, chasing every last drop of cum, until he started to soften in his mouth.

Finally he pulled off, wiping his mouth before pressing one last kiss to Dandelion’s thigh. “Fuck,” he sighed, his voice hoarser than he would have liked but he decided it was completely and utterly worth it.

Dandelion let out a peal of laughter and finally managed to wiggle free of the ties behind his back. His hands were in Jaskier’s hair before Jaskier realised his friend was free. He blinked as he looked up. Blue eyes peered down at him, dark and hungry, and his friend’s cheeks were flushed almost as red as his lipstick.

“Fuck,” Jaskier repeated and pressed his forehead to Dandelion’s stomach.

Long fingers just carried on stroking through his hair as Dandelion laughed again. “My turn.”

[queenbeean]

she's mine / ari levinson

werewolf au

author’s note: fic for @lielullabye 500 challenge, congratulations💕(this is a repost of my work) dedicated to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork love you amber💕

warnings: angst, mentions of sexual harassment, threats

prompts: slight beauty and the beast au; werewolf!ari x mate!reader

read please: this is an alternate universe with ari levinson, in this fic there’s no RSDR, no guy thomas, just the man with the same principles and ideals; also, my knowledge on werewolf dynamics is limited, i’m writing this with what i know from what i’ve read before

“Why do you hate her so much?” Sam asked Ari. They were coming back from yet another successful battle against rogues. Those wolves were tormenting packs all around the state and Ari made it his mission to help as many packs as he could. But the rogues were still coming, they were relentless.

“I don’t hate her.” He grumbled.

Ari didn’t want a mate. Simple as that. He didn’t want to deal with caring about someone who had the power to kill him. He was fine with saving packs from being murdered by rogues. That was his mission in life. No getting distracted.

Until she came along. Until he saved her.

Ari wanted to despise her. He needed to hate her.

Why couldn’t he just bring himself to reject her?

He had tried so many times. It would be so easy to go up to her, reject her and be free of their so called bond. The human in him didn’t want to be cruel. But he couldn’t allow himself to care for her, for anybody. That was the animalistic part of him. Because the wolf part of him wanted nothing more than to be her mate.

Still he couldn’t do it.

“Okay, then. Let me rephrase.” Sam chuckled, making Ari grit his teeth. “Why do you dislike her so much?”

“Can we not do this right now? I’m tired.”

“We never do this. You are always tired when it comes to her. Funny because she’s as quiet about you whenever I ask her.”

Ari’s head whipped so fast in Sam’s direction. “So now you are talking to her?” He demanded to know, his Alpha voice coming through. He didn’t know why Sam talking to her was making his blood boil.

Sam’s laugh boomed. It was so easy riling him up when it came to Y/N. “So what if I am?” He taunted.

Ari stopped the car, tires screeching on the pavement, making the cars behind struggle to stop as well. He got out of the car and before going to Sam’s side, he mind-linked his wolves.

“Everybody get to the house, now!”

The first driver resumed driving and the rest followed. The Alpha’s orders were clear. They wouldn’t want to disobey in any way, especially with an angry Alpha.

Ari opened Sam’s door and took him out by his shirt. “She’s a really nice girl, Ari.” Sam continued his teasing. If Ari wasn’t so angry, he’d realise what Sam’s intentions were. He would also know that Sam meant no harm and would never disrespect Y/N nor his Alpha. “Why are you so worked up over me and her?”

Ari dropped him and Sam took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Back at the pack house, Ari walked in with his mind set on someone. His pack bowed in respect and in other circumstances, he would nod in acknowledgement but he was on a mission. He opened door, making young wolves whimper in fear, something he regretted instantly. He tried calming himself down but the she and Sam would pop into his mind.

At last he found her. The sight in front of him doing something to his heart. Y/N was sitting with a book in her hands, the pages showing cartoon wolves. Around fifteen toddler wolves were sitting in front of her, their attention on the captivating woman telling the story. Her hands moving gracefully and her words smooth as honey.

“Fuck.” Ari muttered under his breath. Y/N gasped, letting him know that she had heard and so would the younglings would have if they weren’t so captured by the story. Their eyes locked and she looked away first, intimidated by his hard stare. “Y/N, a word.” She nodded in acknowledgement and closed the bedtime story.

Simultaneous whines came from the young wolves. “It’s time to sleep. We can finish tomorrow.” She said in a soft voice and Ari cursed in his mind. He stepped aside as the wolves dragged their feet towards their respective rooms. Ari let out a small chuckle at the sight. “How can I help you?” His head snapped in her direction and instinctively took a step back, something as an Alpha he shouldn’t have done. Weakness. Exactly why he didn’t want a mate. Especially a beautiful one with a voice like velvet.

Y/N bowed her head and took two steps back when Ari did that. He hasn’t officially rejected her yet but she knew it would nearly kill her whenever he did. It was already painful and he had only put some space between them. It was a ticking bomb that he was handing her and she no choice but to accept it.

Ari swallowed hard as he realised what he made her feel but then Sam’s words sounded in his mind again. “Why have you been talking to Sam?” No, he wasn’t beating around the bush. He needed to know with urgency what was going between his Beta and his very own mate.

“What do you mean?” Y/N sounded genuinely confused.

Ari groaned. “Don’t play dumb, Y/N. He told me you two have been talking and I want to know why.” He didn’t realise he had walked into her personal space until there was nothing else he could smell but her. And it was maddening.

“Alpha,” Y/N whispered, feeling her heart beating worryingly fast and her wolf clawing for a way out, ready to be with her mate.

The way his title sounded coming out of her lips pushed him to the edge. In a swift movement, he carefully pushed her against the wall and kissed her. His lips were devouring her and she tried her best to keep up with him. As an Alpha, she knew he had the upper hand when it came to dominating her. And she loved it. The way his hands were firmly but gently cupping her cheeks until they needed air. Then one of his hands left to cup the back of her neck and the other to wrap around her waist. His hot breath fanned from his cheek, her jaw to her neck and shoulder as he placed open-mouthed kisses all over every inch of skin. She could do nothing but run her hands through his long hair, the feel of his silky strands were driving her crazy. And she gripped them tight when she felt his canines rubbing the place where her neck met her shoulder, what would be her marking spot.

As soon as Ari felt her tensing, he came to his senses and pulled away. His eyes locked with hers and his heart hurt when he saw the fresh tears gathering.

Y/N pushed herself off the wall and walked past Ari.

“Don’t take another step, Y/N.” He didn’t know what to tell her though, he didn’t know if he could succumb to her. She stopped, she couldn’t disobey direct orders from the Alpha, from her Alpha, her mate.

Ari saw her lips trembling but he couldn’t bring himself to move and get her in his arms. And he didn’t try stopping her when she moved. He just saw how she walked away from him, hurting him in the process.

Y/N ran out of the pack house all the way to the river a couple of miles into the woods. She knew he wasn’t following her but her body could still feel him. Then she yanked her clothes off and shifted, hoping that running would make him disappear from her thoughts. She needed to brace herself, harden her heart for when the time came that he would reject her. Because he had said so. Just waiting for the right time.

/

Ari’s wolf was going crazy. There was too much distance between him and his mate. The only thing that Ari staying put was knowing she was still in his territory. The patrolling wolves of that night let him know that she was safe. And as much as he hated it, Sam offering to keep her company kept his mind at peace.

He knew his resolution was crumbling but there was so much at stake for him. A few minutes with her had him losing focus. Nothing else existed but them. How was he supposed to care for an entire pack when he lost himself in her.

“Alpha Levinson.”

Ari looked up to the door and his blood boiled. Gabe Ashton was the type of wolf that shouldn’t be an Alpha. Ruthless, merciless and cocky. Had been tormenting wolves for years but without proof there was nothing much Ari could do to stop him. It didn’t help that he had an army of trained and loyal killers that somehow helped rogues destroy entire packs.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ari stood up and tried moving forward when Gabe presented a gun and pointed at him.

Gabe tsked. “Be smart, Ari. I came in peace, I promise.” His smile was taunting.

“What do you want?” Ari gritted through his teeth.

“I have a proposition for you and you will accept it.” Gabe grinned maniacally. “I’ve been planning for months. You have a nice pack. Strong wolves. Pretty she-wolves. You have pretty much everything. Last I heard you were only missing a mate to have the perfect pack…”

“Sam, get Y/N back to the house. Now!”

“I’ve been planning your destruction and today, something made me realise that I didn’t have to plan so much. I don’t even have to do much. You have a weakness but then again, you are not even that strong. Ari Levinson, the mighty Alpha, but are you really?”

“What do you want, Gabe?” Ari repeated, his hands fisted and his face red. Nobody threatened him or what was his.

“How’s that pretty new wolf of yours, your mate? You know, I saw her shift earlier. Got the whole show for myself. It’s funny. I didn’t catch any scent that would indicate she’s been claimed, she was reeking of you but no mark on her soft neck…” Gabe taunted, waving his hand in front of Ari. “Since you don’t seem to care about her, what about I mate her? I wonder how she would look under me as I make her mine-”

Ari lost it. He grabbed Gabe by his shirt and slammed him against the wall. Gun going off before dropping to the floor.

“One more word out of you and I’ll fucking end you.” He threatened. “She’s my mate, you hear me. Mine!”

Sam burst into the room. “Ari, Y/N… she’s gone.” Sam’s voice was frantic.

Gabe chuckled and Ari growled.

“Oops, too late I guess.”

[starry-nights12]

I made this moodboard yesterday about my steambaby,Azusa! I mentioned that she's more close to Zuko and loves spending time with him because she's a daddy's girl! 💛🌻💛🌻💛🌻 • When Zuko isn't too busy, he'll take the kids out or have a one on one day with them. With Azusa; Zuko knows how much she loves painting and will take her to galleries or art museums. They will go to the theater since they both love plays. Sometimes they'll go backstage afterwards to talk to the cast and Azusa will ask the director for screenwriting advice. • Azusa's favorite dessert is lemon cake with yellow rose frosting and a cup of chamomile tea. Sometimes Zuko would bring her a slice of cake with the plate warmed by his bending(she loves it when the cake is warmed) and said cup of tea. • She mostly calls Zuko,'Daddy'. She'll only call him 'Dad' or even 'Father' if she's mad at him.

• On her 9th birthday: Azusa gasped when she unwrapped Zuko’s present.

He remembered that monarch butterflies are her favorite and brought her a glass display of them to hang on her bedroom wall. Azusa squealed,"Oh. My.Spirits! Thank you,Daddy! It's beautiful!" Zuko smiled at her, "You're welcome ,sweetheart." She carefully put the present aside to hug him tightly. • Zuko loves gardening so Azusa gave him a yellow apron that says,'Love Grows Here' with blue hydrangeas around it. • When she was 5 or 6, she was helping Zuko water his plants when she told him, "Sunflowers are really pretty! It would make your garden even prettier,Daddy!" "You think so, Azu?" "Yeah! They're my favorite!" The next day he got new seeds and was planting them when she asked,"Ooooh! What kind are they?" "Oh,nothing special. Just corn." Azusa frowned."Corn?" "Yes." "Why corn?" "Why not? Corn is good." "I guess so...!" She shrugged,pouring water on them from her little watering can. Weeks later as the flower began to grow and the bud slowly opened, he took Azusa outside to water it. “Hey,wait a minute...", Azusa rubbed her chin as she stared at the buds. She gasped at the realization. “Those aren't corn! It's sunflowers!"She exclaimed,tugging on his pants legs and pointing at the flowers. Zuko smiled widely at her excitement. "Do you like them, Azu?"

Her eyes widened at her with her mouth agape. "Like it...? Like it?I don't like it...I love it!" She said then squealed. "Oh my Spirits! Thank you,Daddy! I love them so much and they're so pretty and the best and-and-!" Azusa put the back of her hand on her forehead. "This is too surprising to bare...!" She pretended to faint and Zuko caught her. "You're very welcome, Honey."He chuckled. When the flowers fully bloomed she loved going outside to sit and look at them.

• Whenever Zuko gave her a gift, lil Azusa would make a drawing for him as an extra thank you.

• Zuko was on the floor with Azusa while she painted his nails pink. "Daddy ,you should wear more colors than red and gold." "But I love red and gold. They’re the Fire Nation’s colors." "But you need to explore more color options! That's why I wear yellow. It's my favorite color and pretty!" "I know. You're very pretty,Sweetheart." Azusa beamed. "Thanks,Daddy!" Zuko smiled softly at her."You're welcome,Honey." "Anyways,Daddy,I just haaaave to tell you about what Grandpa Iroh and Mom were talking about! We were at Grandpa's Iroh house and he and Mom were talking. They didn't think I was listening but I was." Zuko quirked his eyebrow, "Oh really?" "Yeah! But don't tell them!" "Okay...what did they say?" "I was playing tea party with my dolls and they were talking about someone that was in his tea shop earlier. Mom said: 'That guy was kind of a jerk.' Then Grandpa said:'Oh,Shufen? He runs the second most popular tea shop in Ba Sing Se.

He likes to come in my shop and compare his to mine just to brag about his. He's always such a asshole-!' " "Azusa! You don't have to repeat the curse words." He scolded lightly. Azusa grimaced,"Oops! Sorry!" "It's alright,Azu. Just remember next time,okay?" Azusa smiled at him."Okay!"She assured while nodding.

"So...what else did they say?" "Oh my Spirits,Daddy. There was soooo much drama!" Zuko simply smiled as his daughter gossip about what his Uncle and wife said about Shufen.

💛🌻💛🌻💛🌻

Thank you @a-hams-art for beta reading this!🥰❤❤❤❤

[analogicisms]

Music & Poetry - Chapter One

Summary: Popular-but-not-really-famous lyricist Virgil Quinn meets an attractive poet named Logan who claims to hate music. Virgil, who believes lyrics to be every bit the poetry as the kind found in books and anthologies and inspirational posters, feels the need to prove to Logan wrong.

Ship: Analogical (with others in the background)

Rating & Warnings: PG 13.

Chapters: 1 - 2

AO3: Chapter One

Thanks to @romantichopelessly for betaing and to @sunshineandteddybears and @paperghastly for pre-reading.

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

Chapter One

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♞ LOGAN ♞

Logan sighed as he checked his phone for the second time in two minutes. He was standing outside of the main hall of the university where he would be speaking on that day. Due to his need for extensive planning, however, he was nearly two hours early for when he was required to be there. 

 He considered checking in with the dean of the school but knew that many people felt inconvenienced by those who arrived more than an hour early. Typically, Logan didn’t care too much about inconveniencing others with early arrivals, but Thomas Sanders, the dean of the school, was not just some man who had invited him to speak at this year’s graduation. Thomas was also a very dear friend of his, and Logan would hate to add any undue anxiety onto the man’s already burdened shoulders. 

Sighing again, Logan considered the time once more before opening Google Maps and searching for nearby cafes. 

 Of course, Logan thought as his eyes took in the ten plus pins indicating Starbucks Coffee shops in the area. It was not that Logan was a coffee snob, though his best friend Roman would disagree, he was simply a man who knew what he liked, and Starbucks was awful in terms of taste compared to value. In his opinion, of course—although anyone who disagreed was an idiot.

 Scrolling down to the list, his gaze was caught by the third listing. The Bumble Bean. Logan hummed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the pun. It was, after all, better than the alternative. 

 He noted the letter corresponded with the shop before consulting the map. Clicking on the name of the cafe, it popped up on the map and Logan clicked its little pin. The shop’s information appeared in a little bubble, including the business hours and, more importantly, the distance from his current location. 

 A block and a half away. Not bad for a walk, especially considering the suit he wore. Decision made, Logan set down his messenger bag long enough to pull off the suit jacket. Lifting his bag from the ground, he draped his jacket over the bag and shouldered the strap once more. 

 A quick click of the directions link on Google Maps and he was on his way. 

     ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

 💀 VIRGIL 💀

 Virgil leaned back in the leather armchair he occupied, covering a yawn with his arm. 

 “Don’t start with that now, ViVi.” 

 Virgil grinned as he looked up at the barista who also happened to be his best friend. 

 “Sorry, Pat.” 

 Patton Hart was five foot four inches of adorable from the top of his curls to his white chucks with rainbow cat faces printed on the material. He also had the endearing habit of worrying for his friends. Especially Virgil. 

 “Late night again?” Patton asked, brows furrowing in concern behind oversized glasses with gold round frames. Virgil nodded. “Sleep is important, kiddo.” 

 Anyone who overheard the conversation would likely wonder why Patton—who easily looked younger than Virgil, though they were actually the same age—was calling him kiddo, but Virgil had come to accept that as just Patton being Patton. He was definitely a mom and dad friend.

 Virgil sighed. “Yeah.” He brought a hand to his eyes, closing them to rub at the lids before offering Patton a winning smile. “These lyrics won’t write themselves.” 

 Patton pursed his lips as he set Virgil’s black coffee down on a coaster. Once he’d straightened up, hands were fisted and rested on hips. Virgil tried his best to hold back a grin, but the other looked too adorable like that and so he failed. Miserably. 

 “It’s not funny, Virgil. One of these days, you’re gonna wish you’d listened to dear ol’ Patton.”

 “And when that day comes, I will gladly accept your ‘I told you so’. Unfortunately, I’m a night owl and my brain works best in the dead of night.” 

 Patton tutted but said nothing else on the matter. “Don’t forget, its drinks night tonight. Emile will be late but I should be able to close up a little early so I’ll be there at ten.” 

 Virgil nodded. “Alright. Honestly, though, I don’t know why I even go. Ever since you two started dating, I feel like such a third wheel. Are you sure you two just don’t want the time to yourself? You and I could always catch up later.”

 “Nonsense. Emile is as much your friend as he is mine, boyfriend or not. And, I don’t want to hear another word about it, mister.” 

 Virgil snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, mom.” 

 “Good. Now, drink your coffee before it gets cold.” He glanced up at the front and gave a start. “Oops, gotta get back to work. I’ll try to chat when the rush ends.” 

 Virgil waved him off. “Sure thing, buddy. Talk to you later.” 

 Watching Patton make his way behind the counter, Virgil let his gaze wander to take in the other patrons of the little cafe. A smile slipped onto his lips as he remembered the day three years ago when Patton rushed up to him before blurting out his idea for a bookstore coffee house. Virgil had never seen his best friend so excited about anything in his life, which was saying a lot considering Patton’s default setting was excited. 

 It had taken a lot of work and Virgil had put a lot of money into the place—an investment, he had told Patton when the other tried to refuse—but the struggle had paid off in the end. The Bumble Bean had quickly become one of the hot spots in town, especially for students at the local university and high schools. Virgil was proud of his friend and never missed a chance to tell him, either. 

 The gentle, light sound of the bell on the door sounded and Virgil idly glanced in that direction. 

 Oh. My. God. 

 A man who looked not much older than Virgil--but dressed in way nicer clothes than Virgil had ever owned--stepped inside and looked around before heading toward the counter. Virgil watched him as he made his way across the café, his eyes taking in the man's face as his own heated up considerably. 

 Gay panic is real.

 Virgil quickly looked away, busying himself with drinking his coffee. Unfortunately, due to his preoccupied brain, he had forgotten that coffee was generally very hot, and burned his tongue. 

 “Fuck.” He swore under his breath, tongue now numb and raw. Setting the cup down, Virgil glanced at the man from the corner of his eye. 

 I’m gay. I am so fucking gay.

 Virgil watched as the man stepped up to the counter after the last customer finished paying. He found himself wondering what kind of drink the man would order, mentally reminding himself to ask Patton later. Watching Patton help the man, Virgil guessed at what kind of job the man had. 

 A businessman… then again, those pants are fitted as fuck… lawyer, maybe? Or CEO of some Fortune 500… 

 Pursing his lips, Virgil shook his head. The man didn’t look like a slimy, two-timing, grubby-handed snake. It was possible he was dressed for a specific event. The suit aside, Virgil would guess a professor, or a scientist even. There was no way he would be able to guess correctly, he decided. No point trying. 

 Turning his attention to his coffee, Virgil was momentarily distracted by the sound of feedback coming from the front. A stage was set up on the opposite side of the entrance, a young guy around Virgil’s age if not younger moving the stool closer to the microphone already present. There was a guitar in his other hand and a smile slipped onto Virgil’s face. 

 Virgil Quinn was a college student at the local university but he was also a well-known lyricist. Well, well-known was a little generous considering most people weren’t really interested in lyricists so much as the band or artist themselves. Most lyricists were annoyed by that fact but not Virgil. He liked being famous without actually being famous. 

 Unlike the bands that sang his songs, Virgil could go where he liked, when he liked, with no concern for his safety or his privacy. Even on the rare occasion, a fan did care about the person who wrote the songs, his work was still appreciated and loved from afar. His pictures weren’t the ones being plastered online, on busses, on television ads, and so on. He had more Twitter, Instagram, and YouTube followers than the average person and he was relatively “known”, but definitely not enough that it made much difference to his daily life. 

 That was exactly how Virgil preferred it. 

 “Do you mind?”

 Virgil’s attention had been successfully distracted enough that he hadn’t noticed anyone come up. 

 “Mind?” Virgil’s indifferent attitude quickly turned shy and awkward as he turned to look at the person who asked the question. The gorgeous Mr. Maybe-A-Scientist.

 “I’d like to claim that chair over there but I’ll need to get past you to get there. If you don’t mind.”

 Virgil seized up before mentally reminding himself that this was just another guy. Another human being. He could play it cool. 

 Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Don’t blush. 

 Virgil glanced at the chair before looking back up at the man. He cleared his throat and stood up. 

 In the brief few seconds that past between them as Virgil stood so he could shift out of the man’s way, Virgil became certain of a handful of things. 

 First, the man with his dark gray, nearly black eyes could not be a CEO or lawyer. While his eyes held a certain level of cold, there was far too much feeling in them. Too much depth. Second, the man was at least a head shorter than him but there was no way Virgil would have known if he hadn’t stood up. The confidence the man held about him was absolutely admirable. Virgil would have been worried the man was arrogant or, worse, a narcissist but he seemed far too polite and formal. Instead of self-importance, it was an air of near indifference that radiated from him.

 “Thank you.”

 “Yeah. No sweat.”

 Virgil could have mentally kicked himself. No sweat? Seriously? This man was obviously a man that existed off of intellectual knowledge and discourse. The best he could come up with was no sweat?

 Virgil watched the other’s face, certain to see some sort of sign of dismissal but it never came. Instead, the man raised a brow and a second later, his lips quirked upwards. It was slight. So slight that Virgil wasn’t even certain he truly saw it. That was until the man spoke again. 

 “I still need to get by you, I’m afraid.” 

 Was that amusement Virgil heard laced ever so subtly throughout the carefully chosen words? Virgil glanced at where he stood and swore under his breath. He was an absolute idiot. One thing was certain, however, as Virgil finally moved out of the other’s way. There was a definite spark of amusement in the man’s eyes and voice when he glanced back to thank him, before moving on to the armchair just on the other side of the coffee table. 

 Virgil blushed, quickly sitting once more and trying his best to melt into the couch. Not possible, of course, but he had to give himself props for trying. Deciding he had done enough damage to their interaction, Virgil turned his attention back to the stage where the young man with the guitar was now engaging the patrons sat around the stage. 

 As the singer started playing and fading into his song, Virgil almost forgot about Mr. Sexy Scientist. No, who was he kidding. There was no way he could actually forget about him. Not with him being so damn attractive. Not with him being so damn close. But, his focus was preoccupied just enough to take his mind off the man, if only for the moment. 

 That was, until a sound escaped the man, pulling Virgil’s attention back to him once more. Why is he so good looking? Life hated him. That was all there was to it. Putting such a gorgeous, put together man at arms reach only for Virgil to not have any chance in hell with him. The sound that left the man, however, had Virgil’s curiosity piqued. It was definitely a scoff that he had heard come from the well dressed man. 

 “Not a fan of this kind of music?” Virgil asked, before he could think better of it. He took note that the other had pulled out a book and was presumably reading it. He didn’t even look up at Virgil when answered his question. 

 “Not a fan of music, actually.” 

 Virgil raised a brow. There was no way he had heard correctly. “Sorry, what now?”

 The man looked up this time, a wry sort of expression on his face. It was the look of someone who had had this conversation on more than one occasion and didn’t find it any more enjoyable than he had the first time. Virgil felt bad, but only a little. He was more curious and so offered an apologetic shrug, but continued to look at the man expectantly. 

 The man sighed, marking the page he had been reading with a finger and set the book in his lap. His eyes found Virgil’s and it was all he could do to not look away. Swallowing hard, Virgil waited to hear what the man was about to say. 

 “I’m just not a fan of any type of music. It’s just… not my thing. I guess, classical counts as music and I do enjoy that when I am writing but in the general view of what is music these days, I really can’t say any of it has my appreciation.”

 Virgil frowned. How sad to not like any music. The man looked ready to return to his book but Virgil found himself not wanting the conversation to end just yet. Grasping for something to talk about, he took note of what the man had said. 

 “Writing?”

 The man nodded. He continued to watch Virgil but was obviously not about to offer any further information without being prompted. 

 Just my luck. The most gorgeous man walks into my life and unwittingly challenges all my anxieties. 

 “What do you write?” 

 Maybe he was an author? 

 “I’m a poet.” Suddenly a hand was offered to him from across the coffee table. Virgil took it at the last minute, shaking it and trying hard not to focus on the fact that they were technically holding hands. Too soon, the man pulled his hand back. “Logan Wright. I don’t expect you’ve heard of me but you’ve most likely come across a few of my poems. They’ve been used in various media.”

 Virgil could only nod, unsure of what to say. A poet! Not only that but a poet who doesn't like music. As a lyricist, Virgil was of the belief that lyrics were poetry put to notes in order to make a song—to make music. 

 The man went back to his book and Virgil watched him for a few moments before letting his attention return to the performer. The guy was not the best singer ever but played the guitar like a boss. Still, Virgil could hear the potential and knew well that this man could have a musical career hands down as long as he kept at it. The biggest draw to a singer like this one was that the words could be felt with his voice. That was a quality that so many singers didn’t have but the very quality that proved Virgil’s belief. 

 He knew he shouldn’t care. He knew well that the likelihood of him ever seeing this man—Logan—again was slim to none. Yet, he couldn’t keep his attention from returning to the man. Every few glances, he would see the other wince or grimace. Virgil wanted to feel offended on the singer’s behalf but instead, he just felt pity for Logan. 

 The time soon came when Logan stood and asked by him once again. This time Virgil was quick to stand and smiled shyly. 

 “Hope you have a good day.”

 Wow, could I be any more lame?

 The man smiled, however, and nodded. “Likewise.” 

 Virgil then watched him as he headed out of the shop and back into the world. 

 A few seconds passed, Virgil wishing he had asked for his number or something. Not only that, but the knowledge that the man was missing out on something that was inspiration for millions of people… that just didn’t sit right with him. If only he could spend a few days with Logan… show him what he was missing out on. Prove to him that not all music was bad and so much of it told a story. 

 Fuck.

 Before he could talk himself out of it, Virgil rushed through the shop and out the door. He glanced in the direction the man had gone, his eyes falling on his retreating back. 

 “Logan!” he called out. The man stopped and turned, tilting his head in a cute manner. Virgil didn’t focus on that, instead starting toward him as the man started back, distance closing between them. 

 “Can I help you?”

 Virgil blushed, suddenly unsure of himself. Was what he was about to propose stupid? Whatever. He would never know until he tried. 

 “Give me a week.”

 Logan snorted. “I’m sorry, give you what?”

 Virgil blushed and rushed on. “I mean… in there. What you said about music? Give me a week to prove you wrong.”

 Logan blinked and slowly smirked. “And what makes you think I’ll even be here a week?”

 That stopped Virgil in his tracks. It never even occurred to him that the man was out of town. He felt himself frowning and was about to apologize when the man spoke up again. 

 “I mean, I will be, as it turns out, but it is intriguing for you to just assume so. Still, your proposal has me curious. I don’t know exactly how you plan to change my mind, but I do like experiments as much as the next scholar. I do have somewhere to be at the present, but if you give me your number, I will text you.”

 In the next moments, Virgil gave Logan his number and watched as he walked away. He had no idea how he had managed it, but now that was the least of his worries. 

 Virgil now had just under seven days to change the mind of a very hot, intelligent, and opinionated poet. 

 To say he had his work cut out for him was definitely an understatement.

    ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

Disclaimer:  The author does not own Sanders Sides or any of the characters found therein. They are also not affiliated with Thomas Sanders, Joan Stokes, or the Thomas Sanders team. Only the complete story as it is written is the property of the author and is not to be copied or reposted without express permission from the author.

[writingithink]

Tangled Timelines Chapter 3 Rated: T Chapter Word Count: 5,010 Chapter Summary: The Doctor and Rose try to track down some ghosts. Notes: Hey look! It's an update!! Hopefully they'll be happening more regularly now. I'm semi doing NaNoWriMo, and by that I mean that I'm attempting to write 50,000 words this month spread across any project (including this one). I'm starting to find my groove with this fic, so *fingers crossed*

As always, many hugs and thanks for @hey-there-juliet , my lovely beta. && all mistakes are mine.

READ IT ON AO3 [copy/paste link]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686090/chapters/67268401

<-- Ch2

Ch 4 -->

As soon as he entered his ship, the Doctor collapsed onto the jumpseat and stared blankly at the time rotor for a few moments. And then he glared at it.

“I somehow manage to happen upon the exact coordinates for the beginning of an invasion, and for some reason you’ve put me smack dab in the middle of it?!”

The answering hum was … frustrated.

He furrowed his brows, frowning. It would be exceedingly bad, incredibly bad, astonishingly bad bad bad if something else was influencing the TARDIS. The Doctor sprang to his feet and immediately sonicked open the grating, taking a moment to place a temporary barrier around his panic before he could worry Rose.

Back at the flat, she was having tea with her mother. She’d only just managed to get Jackie to stop complaining about his apparent need to ‘make everything about aliens’, and they were now talking about the wedding. Apparently she’d found a baker who said they’d make up cake samples that all somehow incorporated bananas. Best news he’d heard (well, technically) all day, and he couldn’t properly appreciate the sentiment when he desperately needed to check his ship and parse out exactly what he was going to do about these ‘ghosts’.

First things first, he needed to make sure that the TARDIS was physically fine. That she was healthy. And actually, it wasn’t so bad. There were some minor repairs he should take care of before they next left Earth, but nothing he couldn’t leave until after they’d saved the planet. The Doctor pulled himself out from under the console and bounced over to the navigational matrix, pulling a screen with him as he went.

His mouth dropped as he looked at the recording of their last flight path. A time track seemed to just- just pop into existence, pushing them months away. His ship had immediately landed due to the unexpected error. It literally looked like a glitch in the Vortex - but there were no such thing as glitches in the Time Vortex. A whole dimension doesn’t glitch - not without some outside force acting on it.

And any outside force meddling with time was even more dangerous than whatever these ‘ghosts’ were.

One bloody thing at a time, though.

The Doctor pushed himself away from the console and began pacing.

Ghosts ghosts ghosts ghosts ghosts.

Not really ghosts. Getting stronger from the psychic energy of the entire human race. Incredibly unpleasant when one walks through you - really do feel dead. Worse than dead. Likely nothing good, and all over the world.

But they appear in shifts. There’s shifts.

So someone had to be in charge of that. Probably multiple someones. But still, there would be a central location connected to them, giving them whatever help they need to press themselves onto the Earth from wherever they really are. To do that, all around the world, they would have to have an incredibly strong signal.

An incredibly strong, traceable signal.

“Alright then!”

Headfirst into danger was just what it was going to have to be.

The Doctor sonicked open a different panel and began rummaging around for the equipment he’d need. It wasn’t long before he heard the TARDIS' door open.

“According to the paper,” his wife announced, “they’ve elected a ghost as MP for Leeds. Now tell me about this plan you’re tryin’ so hard to keep secret.”

He popped out of the grating with a backpack full of equipment.

“Who you gonna call?” he joked.

“Ghostbusters!” Rose laughed, more amused by the voice he was using than his shockingly similar looking technology.

“I ain’t afraid of no ghosts,” the Doctor finished with a little jig before dashing out of the TARDIS.

“My mum’s on her way down,” she informed him as he looked around the playground for the best area to set up the cones. Actually, should do nicely right where they were.

“Oh?” He turned on his heel and went back into their ship, pleased that she’d seen fit to set out the rest of the equipment they would need. “Let’s get these outside.”

“Doctor,” his bondmate huffed, even as she took a cone. I don’t think we should tell her yet. About the lifespan thing. Not until after we’ve gotten rid of the ghosts. Like, way after. Next trip back.

That’s fine, he agreed as he sat down his roll of wire and cone and began plugging everything in.

“We’ll still have to stay for awhile, though. Because we said we would.”

The Doctor paused what he was doing, dramatically raising his eyes skyward. It was quite a nice day, really. You’d think, with London having nice weather for once, that he’d be able to enjoy it. He opened his mouth, planning to vocalize his many complaints, but as soon as he turned back towards Rose, he saw Jackie walking up.

After the ghosts, yes. Sometime during this trip, though, please . 

He wasn’t ashamed to beg. Well … a little ashamed.

“Why’d you park all the way over here?” Jackie asked as he began plugging the wires into the cone Rose had placed.

“Got tired of the alley. Bit dingy,” he quipped. It was a lie, but better than telling his mother-in-law that not only had the flight gone wrong time-wise, but also slightly by location.

His wife shot him a worried look as she caught the thought.

Later, he promised, rushing back into the TARDIS for the final cone. He would worry about all of that later - they had important things to do.

“When’s the next shift?” he asked as he sat the cone down.

“Quarter to,” Jackie answered, “but don’t go causing trouble. What’s that lot do?”

“Triangulates their point of origin.”

“I don’t suppose it’s the Gelth?” Rose asked, visions of their spectral forms playing across their bond for a moment.

“Nah,” the Doctor responded, and she quickly shrugged off the idea. “They were just coming through one little rift. This lot are transposing themselves over the whole planet. Like tracing paper.”

With the final cone plugged in, he ran over to make sure they were all in the proper position.

“You’re always doing this,” Jackie complained. “Reducing it to science. Why can’t it be real? Just think of it, though. All the people we’ve lost. Our families coming back home. Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”

He paused to give his mother-in-law an honest answer. 

“I think it’s horrific.” 

And then the Doctor bounced back into motion, unrolling the cable that would connect the triangulation devices to the TARDIS console. They were on a time crunch, after all. “Rose, give us a hand, love.”

His bondmate sighed before following him into the ship.

She’s so upset.

The Doctor remained silent, aware that the thought wasn’t really meant for him and even more aware that there wasn’t anything he could say that would help. He plugged in the cable and turned to Rose, aware that her mother had followed them inside. This is how they could help.

“As soon as the cones activate,” he explained quickly, pointing to the monitor, “if that line goes red, press that button there. If it doesn’t stop,” he continued, reaching into his jacket to pull out the sonic screwdriver, “setting 15-B. Hold it against the port, eight seconds and stop.”

“15-B, eight seconds,” she confirmed.

“If it goes into the blue, activate the deep scan on the left.”

“Uhm … oh!” His wife leaned over the console, which he found much more provocative than the situation really called for. “This button there?”

“Hmm close.”

And he’d really, sincerely intended to send her a mental image of the correct button, but some wires must have gotten crossed there. Instead what he sent was a memory of their return to the TARDIS right after the Rhibelini festival. Eh. Oops?

“That one?” Rose smirked, pointing to another button that was definitely not close, while sending some very, uhm, creative suggestions that, unfortunately, weren’t actually feasible.

“Eehh, now you’ve just killed us,” the Doctor told her with a theatrical grimace.

With the button, or- ?

They both laughed, but only for a moment.

“Er, that one.” She confidently pointed to the correct button, telepathically informing him that she knew the whole time.

“Yeah!” he smiled before turning to Jackie. “Now, what’ve we got? Two minutes to go?”

Jackie looked down at her watch, and the Doctor was glad that she didn’t realize that he was just trying to make her feel needed. That he was a Time Lord and didn’t need her help to check the time. Because his wife had to be right - there’s no way her mum actually enjoys the act of doing laundry. She enjoys being a mum.

You like her, Rose teased over the bond.

Shush.

He gave her a peck on the cheek before exiting the ship to do the final prep work on the triangulation cones. It was go time. The Doctor raced around, calibrating each one.

“What’s the line doing?” he shouted through the door.

“It’s alright,” came his wife’s answering shout, though she really didn’t need to with his superior hearing. She could whisper and he’d be able to hear her from this short of a distance. “It’s holding!”

“You even look like him,” Jackie said to Rose, and he could hear her just fine. Not that he understood what that was supposed to mean.

“How do you mean? I suppose I do, yeah,” his wife responded, sounding pleased, though he still didn’t know what it meant. Rose didn’t look at all like him. What a strange thing to say. He tried to refocus on the triangulation equipment.

“You’ve changed so much,” Jackie sighed. “All grown up and married to an alien, living in a spaceship.”

The Doctor almost said something to Rose about her mother acknowledging that they were, in fact, already married, but then caught himself. If she didn’t already know that he was eavesdropping, no need to make it obvious. Not that it would matter either way. He wasn’t going to stuff cotton in his ears just because the humans in his life couldn’t be bothered to remember all of his biological differences.

“For the better,” his wife replied with confidence. “We have an amazing life, and we’re in love.”

“I suppose. It’s just barmy. Seeing you two like this in this box of his. Makes it hard to pretend everything’s even a little normal.”

He wondered what exactly Jackie imagined their life was like when they weren’t around. Things had actually gotten shockingly domestic lately, though it would still probably be too alien for his mother-in-law.

“Mum, I used to work in a shop.”

“I’ve worked in shops. What’s wrong with that?”

“No, I didn’t mean that,” Rose sighed.

Once again the Doctor made himself refocus on the task at hand, all the while hoping that they weren’t about to have a row.

“I know what you meant. What happens when I’m gone?”

“Don’t talk like that,” Rose ordered, distress flooding their connection, making it nearly impossible for him to pay attention to the cones.

How exactly was he supposed to save the Earth with these working conditions?

There was a smug voice in his head, with a distinct Northern accent, very pleased to point out how they were right about avoiding domestics.

“No, but really. When I’m dead and buried, you won’t have any reason to come back home. What happens then?” Jackie asked her.

“I don’t know,” Rose mumbled, as she tried and failed to imagine their future life without her mother in it.

The Doctor frowned, realizing that he couldn’t quite picture it either.

“Do you think you’ll ever settle down?” her mother continued.

Their connection was now awash with all sorts of negative emotions, and he could tell that his bondmate was near tears, which was completely unacceptable. He turned away from the cones, ready to march back on board before stopping himself.

“The Doctor never will, so I can’t,” Rose told her. “Wouldn’t want to. We’ll just keep traveling.”

“And you’ll keep on changing. And in forty years time, fifty, there’ll be this woman, this strange woman, walking through the marketplace on some planet a billion miles from Earth. But she’s not Rose Tyler. Not anymore. She’s not even human.”

Their bond somehow managed to pulse mauve.

It’s going to be okay, love, he tried to comfort her, fighting to send soothing, positive thoughts over their connection just as he finished up the calibrations. A distraction, that’s what she needed! It was certainly what he needed.

“Here we go!” he shouted.

“The scanner’s working!” Rose called out. “It says Delta-One-Six!”

“Come on then, you beauty!” the Doctor laughed, firmly resolved on drowning out all of the pain present in their shared mental space with adrenaline fueled glee. After all, he had always wanted to use these cones - they were state of the art!

He watched with wide eyes as the cones connected, immediately trapping one of the so-called ‘ghosts’ within their quasi-electric field. And then he reached into his pocket, carefully blocking their bond as he pulled out and put on a pair of 3D glasses - this was the part of his speculations that he really would rather not worry his bondmate with. At least, not yet. Not until he absolutely had to.

The ghost … thing he’d just trapped was absolutely riddled with Void particles. Completely covered, blurry head to blurry toe. Blimey.

The Doctor knelt down, adjusting the controls in order to get a more accurate read. If he was lucky, he would be able to figure out which parallel world these creatures were trying to come from. Likely a parallel Earth, but which one?

It began writhing, though nothing about the triangulation device should cause a living thing pain.

“Don’t like that much, do you?” he couldn’t help commenting. “Who are you? Where are you coming from? Woah!” He jumped back as the ‘ghost’ attempted to break out of the containment field. “That’s more like it! Not so friendly now, are you?”

He looked on as the creature faded away and the cones deactivated. While some more time would have been helpful, the Doctor had enough information to get started. After quickly picking up all of the cones, he ran back inside. Once he’d dumped them all out of the way, he raced up to the console, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it onto the railing.

“I said so!” he exclaimed. “Those ghosts have been forced into existence from one specific point, and I can track down the source. Allons-y!”

With that, he slammed the dematerialization lever, the coordinates having been inputted by the triangulation device. So handy! Finally got to use it.

The TARDIS shook violently.

Well, maybe he could make some improvements ... if he ever got the chance to use it again. The Doctor sprung to his feet and stabilized the flight.

Things seemed abnormally silent in the console room and over their bond. He was uncertain as to why, but still gave over to his natural inclination to fill the silence.

“I like that,” he told his wife as he moved around the console. “Allons-y. I should say allons-y more often. Allons-y. Watch out, Rose Tyler. Allons-y. And then, it would be really brilliant if I met someone called Alonso, because then I could say, ‘Allons-y Alonso’ every time.” He finally reached Rose and wrapped his arms around her before pausing. “You’re staring at me.”

“My mum’s still on board,” she whispered, squeezing his arms.

The Doctor looked up to see Jackie Tyler sitting on one of the platforms.

It was terrifying.

“If we end up on Mars, I’m going to kill you.”

Absolutely, bone-chillingly terrifying.

Stop being a drama queen, his bondmate chastised.

Oh, the domestics of it all! Worse than living in a house! Traveling with his mother-in-law?!

You’ll be fine, it’s hardly traveling . We’re in the same city, in the same time, Rose reassured him, rolling her eyes before giving him a proper hug.

What was he supposed to do now, though?! Bring Jackie with them? Leave her in the TARDIS? It would likely be dangerous wherever they ended up, invasion and all. The alternative was having her stay in their home to snoop around and get up to who knows what. There was no winning!

“Welcome aboard, Jackie!” he said with a wave, his smile showing a bit too much teeth.

“Where exactly are we going, anyway?” her mother asked.

“Come down, mum. You can watch the landing on the view screen with us,” Rose encouraged, releasing him so that she could meet her halfway. “We’re gonna land at wherever they’re controlling the ghosts. Are you fine to stay on board? There’s a pool, you could have a nice swim. Or watch telly in the media room. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’m just supposed to hang out in this weird ship of his while you’re off trying to get yourselves killed?”

“We do stuff like this all the time,” the Doctor piped in, trying to reassure her. “Only this time you’re on the TARDIS instead of at home in your flat. Which, really, is much better, when you think about it. Best ship in the Universe.”

Jackie still didn’t look thrilled as they all gathered around the view screen. She looked even less thrilled as they watched the TARDIS land in a hanger before immediately being surrounded by armed gunmen.

“Oh, well, there goes the advantage of surprise,” he sighed. “Still, cuts to the chase.”

Now he was going to have to deal with soldiers. Really, every time he thought that the day couldn’t possibly get worse. The Doctor turned to his mother-in-law as he made his way around the console.

“Jackie, stay inside. Doors shut. They can’t get in.”

“I’m not staying here! Take me home!”

“It’s too late for that,” he told her. “Shouldn’t have come aboard if you didn’t fancy a trip.”

“I was kidnapped!”

He rolled his eyes, deciding not to dignify that with a response as he took Rose’s hand. She pulled him to a stop before they reached the door.

“Doctor, they’ve got guns.”

The Doctor mentally reminded his wife that they’d been surrounded by much, much worse. Daleks couldn’t help but come to mind. 21 st century Earth guns were really the least of his concerns at the moment. Jackie Tyler accidentally breaking his precious timeship was more of a worry than guns. Whatever these creatures had planned, definitely more of a worry than guns.

“And we haven’t,” he delightfully informed her. “Which makes us the better people, don’t you think? They can shoot us dead, but the moral high ground is ours.”

With that, he tugged her out of the TARDIS behind him and closed the door as casually as he could manage.

Honestly, with all of the emergency programs he had installed, why couldn’t he have made one to deal with this scenario? A program that would immediately take Jackie home and then bring the TARDIS right back - now that would be nifty.

 They barely had a chance to look around before the soldiers surrounding them cocked their guns. He and Rose quickly raised their hands to prove they were unarmed.

Y’know what this reminds me of?, his wife casually asked across their connection.

What?

Utah, 2012.

The Doctor’s eyes swept the area as much as he could without moving his head. He could see her point.

Do you think they’d fire if I knocked on wood right now?, he asked her, just as a blonde woman in a suit rushed into the hanger.

“Oh! Oh, how marvelous!” she exclaimed, clapping.

I think she may’ve gone ‘round the bend, Rose laughed in his head as she fought back a confused smile.

The soldiers slowly began to lower their weapons as they joined in on the … clapping? Really, why were they clapping?

“Oh, very good. Superb. Happy day!”

Really, the Doctor felt inclined to agree with his bondmate on this one. Still, now that guns weren’t being pointed at them he was inclined to just go with it.

“Uhm, thanks. Nice to meet you,” he greeted. “I’m the Doctor, and this is my-”

Probably not the time to introduce me as your wife.

“- this is Rose.”

“Hello,” his wife waved with a wide grin that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Oh, I should say! Hurray!”

And there they went again with the clapping. Honestly, what the bloody hell was going on?

Think you’ve got more fans, Rose teased.

“You- you’ve heard of me, then?”

Really, where had his ship landed them?

“Well of course we have,” the overly enthusiastic woman replied. “And I have to say, if it wasn’t for you, none of us would be here! The Doctor and the TARDIS.” 

Everyone started clapping yet again. He was starting to get used to it, actually. It was kind of nice.

“And his companion, of course,” the woman continued.

Okay, not as nice. Then again, Rose was the one who didn’t want him to say she was his wife. Which was probably the smart thing to do, mid-invasion, but still. Just … didn’t feel right. As it was, she had had to cover her mouth with her hands in order to keep herself from laughing - out loud. Their bond was awash with her amusement. The Doctor found himself fighting the urge himself as he tried to politely make them stop.

“And- and- and you are?” he asked as the noise died down.

“Oh, plenty of time for that,” she evaded. Huh.

I think she thinks she’s the boss of you, his bondmate informed him.

She also thinks that I’m the boss ofyou, the Doctor couldn’t help but point out.

Bless.

“Aaaaaaanyway lead on, allons-y. Will there be nibbles?”

He fought the urge to take Rose’s hand as they followed the woman away from the TARDIS, surrounded by armed guards, stuffing his fists into his pockets. A moment later she tugged on his sleeve. The Doctor glanced over, taking out his hand when she rolled her eyes. Their fingers slotted together, perfect fit, as always.

We’ve been holding hands since the moment we met, she mentally chastised. Memories played across their bond.

She certainly wasn’t wrong.

Sorry, he told her, squeezing her hand. Not sure how to pretend to not be married, I guess.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Rose smirk.

Well, I took off my ring. Think all we’ve got to do now is not say it outright.

Before he could properly respond, something on the tip of his tongue (or whatever the telepathic equivalent of that idiom might be) about how he could do a much better job than that, the mystery woman started talking.

“It was only a matter of time until you found us, and at last you’ve made it,” she said. “I’d like to welcome you, Doctor. Welcome to Torchwood.”

With that, she flung open the doors and they entered a massive warehouse. A massive warehouse that was full of alien technology. And since this definitely wasn’t UNIT, this was very, very not good.

Blimey , he told his wife, you’re right. This really is frighteningly similar to that bunker in Utah.

Gonna nip over to that crate and knock on wood?, Rose asked, only partially teasing.

He really was considering it, actually, but … (he peeked behind him at the armed soldiers following uncomfortably close) better not. Instead he focused on the spacecraft in front of them.

“That’s a Jathar Sunglider,” he realized.

“Came down to Earth off the Shetland Islands ten years ago,” the woman explained.

“What, did it crash?”

“No, we shot it down,” she stated. “It violated our airspace. Then we stripped it bare.” 

Oh, this was really not good. The Doctor tried to sense the timelines, but they were all still so jumbled and wrong that he couldn’t make out the consequences of it, this technology that Earth really shouldn’t have right now. Not yet.

“The weapon that destroyed the Sycorax on Christmas day?” the woman continued with pride, “That was us. Now, if you’d like to come with me.”

That’s what Harriet said, Rose realized, replaying the memory over the bond, Torchwood. I didn’t even think about it, though.

No, me either, he agreed as they were led further into the warehouse. Why hadn’t he noticed anything off before? He should have felt it. On Christmas, maybe not - he’d just regenerated. But apparently this organization has been active for at least a decade, if not longer.

“The Torchwood Institute has a motto - ‘If it’s alien, it’s ours’,” their ‘captor’ slash ‘tour guide’ explained. “Anything that comes from the sky, we strip it down and we use it for the good of the British Empire.”

“Excuse me, the what?” Rose interrupted.

“The British Empire,” the woman repeated, turning around and looking his bondmate up and down, sizing her up.

“There hasn’t been a British Empire in ages,” Rose informed her, and she wasn’t wrong.

“We’ll see,” their hostess replied, a little too condescending for his liking. “Ah, excuse me,” she continued as a soldier handed her a particle gun?! “Now if you wouldn’t mind. Do you recognize this, Doctor?”

“That’s a particle gun.”

Now that he was here, now that this had his full attention, the Doctor could feel the strain on the timelines. This whole building was a threat to the entire causal nexus. His wife held his hand tighter when he showed her just a smidge of it over their connection.

“Good, isn’t it?” the woman smiled, unaware of the impending disaster that he wasn’t yet sure how to fix. “Took us eight years to get it to work.”

“It’s the 21st century,” he calmly tried to explain. “You can’t have particle guns.”

“We must defend our border against the alien,” she replied, as if that somehow gave them a free pass.

The Doctor didn’t know what to say to that, which apparently was fine, as their guide wasn’t really paying attention anyway as she handed back the gun.

“Thank you, Sebastian, isn’t it?”

I think it’s best if we just, you know, let her talk, he told Rose, studiously not looking directly at her - and really, there was a lot to take in, the warehouse was packed with advanced tech. Much too advanced.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Think she’ll give us an evil monologue?

Well, I don’t think she’s evil, he admitted. I think she’s … some sort of, I don’t know, business woman? I think she truly believes that what they’re doing here is good . Which makes them even more dangerous.

It would also make stopping them even more difficult.

“Thank you, Sebastian.”

He refocused as she turned back to them.

“I think it’s very important to know everyone by name,” she said. “Torchwood is a very modern organization. People skills. That’s what it’s all about these days. I’m a people person.”

Well that’s … nice?, Rose commented across the bond as she gave the woman a very forced grin.

“Have you got anyone called Alonso?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“No, I don’t think so. Is that important?”

Eh, oh well. It was kind of nice, though, having her asking a question for once.

“No, I suppose not,” the Doctor replied, just as he noticed a crate of Magnaclamps. He’d always wanted some, hadn’t gotten around to it, though. “What was your name?”

“Yvonne,” she told them (finally). “Yvonne Hartman.”

He let go of his wife’s hand, giving into the urge to inspect a clamp.

“Ah, yes,” Yvonne said with a smile. “Now, we’re very fond of these. The Magnaclamp. Found in a spaceship buried at the base of Mount Snowdon. Attach this to an object and it cancels the mass,” she explained, as if he didn’t already know. “I could use it to lift two tonnes of weight with a single hand. That’s an imperial ton, by the way. Torchwood refuses to go metric.”

Of course they do, Rose scoffed over the bond. British Empire, I mean really.

“Well, that’s handy,” is what she said aloud as he tossed the clamp back into the crate, wandering away to try to get a better idea of all of the other alien technology they’d managed to scavenge, commandeer or steal. His wife wandered in the opposite direction, giving him a second set of eyes even if she didn’t know what everything was. It really was a devastating amount, and the Doctor had to assume that this wasn’t all of it.

Really, it was about time they got back on track.

“So, what about the ghosts?” he asked.

“Ah, yes, the ghosts. They’re, er, what you might call a side effect,” Yvonne admitted.

“Of what?”

“All in good time, Doctor. There is an itinerary, trust me.”

Ugh, of all the things to add to this no-good-very-bad-day, he was stuck on a tour. With an itinerary.

It was his personal hell, really.

And to make it even worse, there went the TARDIS on the back of a lorry.

“An itinerary?” Rose scoffed. “And what are you lot doing with the TARDIS?!” My mum’s in there!

Oh, seriously?! He’d just managed to forget that they’d left Jackie Tyler unsupervised on the ship. Really, truly, worst day ever.

Seriously? Could you just grow up and get some perspective?, his wife snarled over their connection.

“If it’s alien, it’s ours,” Yvonne replied confidently.

“You’ll never get inside it,” he told her with just as much confidence, if not more.

“Hmm, et cetera.”

Once she turned away, they both glanced back at their ship to see Rose’s mum peek out through the doors - which he distinctly remembered telling her to keep shut.

Really, why did no one ever listen? He didn’t understand it.

With a sigh, and all of his unflattering thoughts about his mother-in-law safely behind a barrier, the Doctor turned away to continue their ‘tour’. At least the ghosts were on the itinerary. So this day had to turn ‘round at some point … right?

[justkindaoverhereobsessing]

2020 IN WRITING

tagged by: @indestinatus​

tagging: no one, because I am unable to think straight. But whoever is interested in doing this: I’m interested in reading it. <3 

Wow, okay, I’m getting real in this little questionnaire... read at your own risk, friends.

1. List of works published this year:

I genuinely can’t write them all out here... there are too many of them! (I’ve done so little besides writing this year!) But I keep a running list of all my projects here. I’m sorry for cheating on this one, haha. 

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

This question comes up a lot on these things, and I always put the same answer: That We May Forgive. It’s has emotional moments, silly moments, heartfelt moments where the warmth made me cry as I wrote. It was written in one sitting, and it’s the story where I felt most connected to the characters I love so much. It sums up the joy I feel knowing that these (fictional) friends of mine have finally reached peace after too many years of trauma and hardship. I began the story with a single line in mind, after which the characters took over and told the story for me:

Ziva's second pregnancy is nothing like her first.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

You Stumble, You Soar, which was written for one of my dearest friends in the world, @why-did-you-just-lie-to-mcgee​. I wanted to do so much better by her, but as I ran out of time to complete the story by the end of her birthday, I rushed the writing and I think the story suffered for it. It made her happy, though, and that’s the most important thing. She deserves all the happiness, all the time—but especially on her birthday. 

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

I can’t think of a favorite excerpt of my writing, because I’ve written so much that I can’t think back!

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

“Wow. Let me just tell you that I am absolutely in love with this story. I wake up everyday and, as I log into fanfiction, my only hope is that you've uploaded a new chapter because DAMN. The characters are so well written, the story is beautifully constructed and this last chapter just broke my heart into tiny little pieces. What a remarkable job you've done. Please, don't ever stop writing NCIS/Tiva fanfiction- specially this one story: it's one of my all time favorites. Thank you :)”

An incredibly kind and inspiring comment by a reader named Alexandra on my longest (WIP) fic, We Are an Ocean.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

I’ve had two periods of NCIS hiatus this year—and actually, I’m still in the midst of the second one right now. These have periods of turmoil in my own life. When I’m upset, feeling sick, feeling sorry for myself and I’m depressed and aching... that’s when I write the best, because writing is my safety blanket. When I’m feeling numb, though, or lost... the characters are lost to me, too, and so are the words I use to wrap them (and myself) in comfort.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

I’m going to deviate here from NCIS, which is—I’m well aware—why most of my followers have chosen to follow me. But in the last month, I’ve written a single fic for Criminal Minds—it’s called In Possibility, it’s unpublished, and it’s now over 100,00 words. It’s centered on Spencer Reid, who was intimidating to me when I started writing the fic. He’s far more intelligent than I am, requiring me to do a lot of research to give him realistic lines, he’s a deep and complicated character with complicated motivations and a tangled, traumatic past. He also has a sweet, really good heart that’s been scarred by years of difficult work and an emotionally taxing personal life. 

I thought he’d be difficult to write; to my surprise, he comes as naturally to me as any of my other favorite characters ever have. He gave me my first nanowrimo win! To be frank, he’s gotten me through a lot of shit this year. That was the best surprise.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

To be honest, I wasn’t much of a writer before this year. I enjoyed writing, especially in a roleplay setting with fandom friends... but I deeply struggled with trying to write alone. I didn’t do much of it.

Then, this year, well... the concept of writing exploded into the most important distraction, escape, and joy I could imagine. 

I didn’t grow as a writer this year. I became a writer this year.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

My most recent project—the one that, as I’ve said, is (and will remain) unpublished—has given me a new perspective. It’s written for an audience of me and only me... so I’ve given myself permission to engage in the most ridiculously self-indulgent writing I’ve ever embraced and thrown myself into. 

And it has been the greatest joy I could imagine in a time of great pain.* 

Next year, I want to throw myself into every project I work on with as much reckless abandon as I’ve done in this last project. I want to stop worrying so much about what people will think and pursue the words that are bursting out of the fingers on my laptop keyboard. I want to have confidence in my ability to draw out emotions—if from no one else, at least from myself.

“If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.” —Emily Dickinson

And it’s alright if that one heart is mine.

That’s what I want to accomplish in my writing next year, and what a growth that would be!

* I’ve mentioned this in my last post, but I’m recovering from brain surgery, I also have the COVID-19 virus, and I’m working on passing a kidney stone that may be too big to pass. I’m writing 10,000 words a day to get through it—and it’s working. Distraction is everything to me right now.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Like Sof, I have to tag three people here, because I really couldn’t choose just one. My three best friends in the world all influenced my writing in their own ways! <3 (Sorry for deviating a little from the writing thing in some of the following lines, oops. I just have emotions that are all over the place this week!)

@indestinatus — One of a few best friends who has had my back every day for so long now. She listens when I need to talk things out—whether or not I’m talking about writing. She really gets me when I need to be silly, or I need to be serious, or I just really, really need a friend. Also, she inspired me to start learning Portuguese this year, and I’m actually practicing by writing a fic in Portuguese, lol. It’s slow going... but Sof encourages me (and corrects me, haha) whenever I work on it, just as she does with absolutely anything else I work on. Truly, I’ve had few friends in my life that are so special to me, and I love her. I really do. 

@why-did-you-just-lie-to-mcgee — Is there a better cheerleader on this earth? Is there a better friend? Doubtful on both counts. She thinks I’m a disaster—and, by the way, she’s absolutely right—and she sometimes has to remind me to eat and sleep, but she’s totally cool with being my internet mom. Doesn’t matter that she’s nearly a decade younger than I am, lol. All of these things have bolstered me when the writer inside of me has faltered, and she has carried my burdens as I wrote them out. Anyway, she reads everything I write, and she has requested to gain access to all of my unfinished chapters and unpublished works in the event that I die—I completely trust her with that nonsense. I’ve written it into my will. Really. Like with Sof, I genuinely love Tiz, and I’d do anything for her. 

@honeybadgerdocare — Best friend of 20 years. She doesn’t watch the same shows that I do, and my endless ranting makes very little sense to her... but she listens. She’s my sounding board for everything I write, everything I read, everything I watch, and everything that gives me big feelings. I genuinely can’t describe how much she has helped me with my writing every single day, so I’ll leave it at this: I could not do it without her. I’d drown in my own struggles and I’d stop creating the art that sustains me. She’s my soulmate—sorry to her fiancé. All of my love goes to her!

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

HAHAHAHAHA it’s cute how you think my writing is anything other than a re-organized and fictionalized version of my life and my feelings. Real life shows up in my writing, and my writing shows up in my real life. It gets crazy and obsessive, but like... I had a trip to Israel booked this year (obviously canceled due to the pandemic, but still) because Ziva comes from Israel. (Also because of my Jewish adoration for the spiritual homeland, but the thought of going and the trip planning all started with Ziva.) I went to Baltimore so I could run down an alley yelling “YOU CAN’T OUTRUN ME, I’M WEARING TUBE SOCKS!” to encourage my inner Tony DiNozzo. I nearly froze to death in Washington, D.C. and called my mom every time I saw a little red mini coop that looked like Ziva’s, or came across a place that was featured in an NCIS scene.

And to answer the actual question here, because I obviously flipped it around like the moron I am... when the pandemic canceled things I was desperately looking forward to, I wrote a fic where Tali’s excitedly anticipated dance recital got canceled because of the pandemic. I lost my appendix (last year, but the fic was written this year — does that count?) and wrote a fic where Tali loses hers, too. (I swear, I don’t always write things that torture Tali, lol, these are just my best examples!) When I lost a couple of loved ones this year, I wrote a funeral scene where Tony and Tali remembered Ziva. Writing is definitely free therapy, y’all.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Write for yourself—write what you love, and you’ll love what you write. That’s all. That’s it. That’s my advice, something I’ve learned this year.

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I’ve been working on We Are an Ocean for roughly a year now, and 2021 needs to see it finished. I’ve got a number of lovely, dedicated readers who deserve to see the story play out as it’s intended to be played out. 

Also, my greatest love right now, In Possibility, will probably write itself to an end in 2021. Or... who knows? Maybe it will worm its way into 2022, too. :-)

14. If you could recommend only one work from yourself published this year:

Since I already went into detail about my favorite fic of mine from this year (That We May Forgive), I’ll recommend a different one: The Stars Always Make Me Laugh. It has some of the darkest moments I’ve ever written, but it also has some of the lightest moments I’ve ever written. It was an answer to two different challenges, and if I can say this without sounding arrogant, I think I met the challenges beautifully. It gave me comfort, catharsis, and closure for a few things in my own life... and I hope it comforts my readers, too. 

15. Year word count: 

HOLY FUCKING SHIT (excuse my French). I just added up my AO3 word count + my current unpublished project, and... my word count is:

428,557.

FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY-EIGHT THOUSAND, FIVE HUNDRED AND FIFTY SEVEN WORDS

I nearly just fell out of my chair. Goodbye, friends. I am deceased.

[doc-pickles]

livin’ for the hope of it all

Fun Fact: This is probably my favorite track from folklore (betty is a close second and they’re actually connected in the same storyline) so I created an AU College Sweethearts Jolex storyline just for this. I also needed to change things up because my fics for this week were feeling repetitive, but the good news is that I actually love the storyline and this piece!

(And while we’re at it, shout out to @odd-birds-and-booksellers for beta reading this and helping me clean this up for y’all. ILY and you’re the BEST!)

Also oops I slated this as angst and that just absolutely did not happen. It’s pretty fluffy but uh warning the ending is not happy… at all… So sorry about that.  So without further ado, the folklore fic that stole my whole entire heart!

But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

'Cause you were never mine

“Alrighty boys, can I get anything else for you?”

“Yeah how about your number, sweet cheeks.”

Jo rolled her eyes, used to the degrading remarks she would often get as a waitress in the greasy diner. The table of young boys didn’t bother her, they were a dime a dozen working in a college town and it was a sure bet that one of them would say something stupid or degrading to Jo.

Ignoring the comments and laughs from the table, Jo began to walk away but didn’t get very far. The boy closest to the edge had tugged her arm hard enough that she went flying backwards, landing in his lap as one hand came up to hold Jo in place against him. 

“Aw come on baby, don’t you want this,” the boy was speaking directly into Jo’s ear, a clear attempt at seducing her that was failing miserably. She tried desperately to squirm out of his grasp, but he only held her tighter. “I can show you a good time.”

“Hey dick wad, it doesn’t take a genius to realize that the lady doesn’t wanna talk to you,” a gruff voice sounded above Jo, the speaker holding his hand out to help Jo up. She took it with a grateful smile and stood, wiping off her apron while he continued to stare down the table of now terrified boys. “And don’t forget to tip generously.”

Jo watched in amazement as the man went back to his spot at the counter, eyes trained on the newspaper before him. She rounded the diner once more before walking behind the counter to stand in front of the mystery man, refilling his coffee as she eyed him. 

“Thanks for doing that. Those losers can’t take a hint sometimes,” Jo offered her hand to the stranger, a small smile on her face. “I’m Jo, by the way. I’ve never seen you around here before.”

“Alex,” the man shook Jo’s hand, a crooked grin appearing on his stoic face. “I just finished med school last month, I finally have time to eat breakfast and enjoy a Thursday morning.”

Jo’s response was cut off by her boss yelling at her, her hand coming up to wave to Alex before she bolted to the other end of the diner. Her eyes flicked back to him once or twice, always finding him staring back already. The small action left Jo with a near constant blush on her cheeks. 

By the time Jo makes it back around, Alex is gone. His empty coffee cup sits on top of a $20, which she grabs with a grin. A corner of the newspaper rests on top of the bill, neat block printing across it that makes Jo’s cheeks flame once again. 

‘If you get sick of stupid frat boys, give me a call.’

+

“I hate to say it, but you might be better at darts than me,” Alex let out a chuckle and grabbed his beer, taking a long swig from it as he turned back to Jo. “You have nothing better to do than practice your aim?”

After her shift at the diner, Jo had sat in her car and hesitated all of thirty minutes before calling Alex and asking him to meet up with her at the bar down the street from her apartment. Nerves flying all around her, Jo had finally made it down to Red’s Bar and Grill, meeting Alex with a wide grin and the first round of beers on her tab. 

“Mmm I practice between classes and work,” Jo rolled her eyes, throwing another dart and hitting just outside of the bullseye. “I’m about to start my last year of school at UI. Architecture degree, the boring stuff.”

“Hey hey, I don’t judge,” Alex shrugged, eyes glinting with amusement. “I’m sure that doodling buildings is just as thrilling as cutting people open.”

Jo let out a laugh, her eyes roaming appreciatively over Alex for the first time. He wore jeans and a t-shirt that hugged his arms and torso, the dark blue bringing out the flecks of gold in his eyes. The low lighting in the bar didn’t help Jo as she tried to concentrate on anything besides the way Alex looked at her, cheeks flushing as she imagined his hands running over her body. 

“Oh you should see me in class, I’m the only woman in my major so,” Jo blindly threw her final dart at the board, relying on Alex’s shocked expression to tell her that she had hit close to her mark. “Had to find something to beat the boys at, keep their egos at bay.”

Satisfied with the dark look that came over Alex, Jo swigged her beer and took a step towards him, her fingers trailing over the collar of his shirt. She’d held back through the three rounds of beers and the pizza they’d shared, but she couldn’t keep her hands off of him any longer. 

“I don’t wanna be too forward but,” Alex finished his beer with one gulp, one hand moving to rest on Jo’s hip. “You wanna get out of here?” 

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life,” Jo breathes out, pulling Alex down to kiss her chastely before letting go and walking towards the exit. “Come on, Doctor Handsome. Let’s go.”

+

Two weeks after their first date, Jo is scrambling during the morning rush to touch each of her tables and makes sure they’re all taken care of. It’s just her and her boss Nancy working this morning, so she’s really busting her ass to make sure that she makes good tips. A hand reaches out, swiping her arm delicately and makes Jo sigh in relief. She was so used to the gentle brush against her arm that it felt like second nature at this point.

“Hey you,” Alex’s voice is soft, something that Jo can barely hear above the rush of the crowded restaurant. “Long morning?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, Katie called out sick so there’s only two of us,” Jo groans as she reaches for the coffee pot to refill Alex’s cup. “I have the next two days off though so I’m just trying to make it through this stupid shift.”

Alex’s hand reaches out and grabs her wrist, holding it for the briefest second before letting her go with a grin. Jo can never seem to control the way her heart beats out of time around the man she just met, but she can’t say she hates the feeling of her heart fluttering nervously. 

“How about we drive to the lake and spend a day or two up there,” Alex shrugs, as if the idea of spending a few days away with Jo is the most natural thing in the world. “Just the two of us. I’ve got some camping gear and a hard top for the pickup. We’ll make a weekend out of it.”

Jo’s eyelashes batted against her cheek, eyes roaming over Alex with a focused stare. They hadn’t labelled whatever it was that they were doing (sleeping together, spending nights stargazing in the back of Alex’s truck, meeting up almost every night to drink cheap wine and order whatever takeout was offering a deal, actually just sleeping together) but spending a few days alone was something entirely different. Spending a few days alone was real. 

“You know what,” Jo laughed, leaning forward to peck Alex’s cheek. “Let’s do it. Let’s get out of this hellish town, god knows we both need it..”

The crooked smile that appears on Alex’s face made Jo’s heart stutter again, the look ingrained in her mind so well that she thought she might be able to paint it from memory. 

+

“I haven’t been up here in years, I didn’t realize how beautiful it was,” Jo stood at the edge of the small cliffside overlooking the water just a few feet down. Alex stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist and head propped against her shoulder as they both admired the beginnings of the sunset reflecting on the water. “I’m glad we came up here.”

“Me too, I’m glad I get to spend some time with you,” Alex turned Jo around, his hands squeezing her waist as he kissed her gently. “And I’m very sorry about this.”

Before Jo could respond to him, Alex had lifted her off the ground and jumped off the small dirt cliff, plunging them both into the icy water of the lake. When she resurfaced, Alex was already laughing at her shocked expression. 

“You’re gonna pay for that, Karev,” Jo laughed, feet treading water as she swam closer to him. “Oh you’re so gonna pay for that.”

Alex seized the opportunity in front of him, quickly wrapping his arms around Jo and pulling her body flush with his. His lips meet her neck as she tries in vain to squirm away from him, loud peels of laughter escaping Jo as she let herself relax into Alex’s embrace. 

It’s hours later when they’re laying in the back of Alex’s truck, eyes glued to the sky as they lay wrapped up in one another in a pile of blankets and pillows. There’s a discarded wine bottle next to them and the last embers of the fire they’d built are still glowing. It’s peaceful and quiet and Jo doesn’t think she’d ever felt so relaxed in her whole life. 

“The stars look way brighter out here,” Jo noted as she rested her head against Alex’s chest, eyes closing as he ran his fingers through her hair. “I wish I could stay here forever. It’s the perfect spot.”

“Well this truck bed is uncomfortable as hell so I don’t think us living in the woods would be great on your back,” Alex chuckled as Jo’s hand hit his chest with a soft whap. She sat up then, reaching for her overnight bag and digging through it. “What’re you doing?”

“I got you something! It’s not much but,” Jo pulled out an immaculately wrapped box and handed it to Alex with a wide grin. “I figured it might be handy when you become a hot shot doctor.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow at Jo, before unwrapping the box and popping it open. Inside laid a wrist watch, a silver watch face mounted on a thick leather strap. Jo revelled in the crooked grin on Alex’s face as he took it out and handed it to her, silently asking her to latch it onto his wrist.

“It’s vintage, I found it at a thrift store the other day and I couldn’t resist buying it,” Jo gushed as she adjusted the strap against Alex’s wrist. “I read somewhere that most doctors want to keep a watch on because they’re easier to check and more reliable than digital. And it helps with counting seconds an-”

The rest of Jo’s sentence melted away as Alex pressed his lips firmly against hers. Jo couldn’t help the smile that overtook her, a giggle escaping quietly as Alex leaned her back and pressed her into the truck bed.

“Thank you, you’re more than I deserve,” Alex kissed Jo once more before moving his lips to her neck. “Maybe I can show you how much you mean to me.”

“Mmmm that sounds like a fun way to end the night,” Jo giggled as Alex moved his lips further down her body. “A really fun way to end it…” +

Once the thrill of their spontaneous weekend trip wears off, Jo is surprised at how normal her relationship with Alex feels. It’s August now, Alex’s short break between med school and the start of his internship nearing an end. He had applied all over the country, but the county hospital had been the only one to accept him. 

“I didn’t hear back from Hopkins, Mass Gen, Seattle Grace, or UCSF, but they were all long shots anyways,” Alex shrugged, slinging his arm around Jo’s shoulder and bringing her closer to him on the ratty couch in her apartment. The movie they had chosen rattled on in the background, neither of them paying much attention to it. “Besides, staying here means I get to hang out with you all the time.”

Jo leaned into Alex’s embrace, eyes closing as she relished the feeling of his heartbeat pounding steadily in her ears. She’d become so comfortable in spending so much time with Alex that she didn’t know what she would do when he began to work long nights and days at the hospital. Of course, her own classes would begin in two weeks and then who knew where the two would land up. 

“Mmm yeah I don’t think I can let you go even if I tried,” Jo felt Alex’s hand slip into her own, squeezing gently as he kissed her head. “I’m pretty sure I love you.”

Jo didn't register the hitch of Alex’s breathing, she didn't even notice that he was staring at her so intently. She had dozed off in his embrace, head heavy against his chest as he watched her carefully. He only moved when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket, stepping into the other room so he wouldn’t wake her. 

“Hello? This is him. Umm yeah, yeah absolutely. I’m definitely interested. I can be there, I will be there… Three days? Yup. Not a problem. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Thanks Doctor Webber, it’s been a pleasure. I’ll see you soon.”

+

“I have to take this stupid Calculus class and I can’t drop it and I already hate it,” Jo groaned as she plopped into the seat next to Alex. It was a Tuesday morning and the diner was near empty, allowing Jo a few minutes to breathe easy. “Honestly, I’m not excited to start classes next week. I’ve been absolutely exhausted the past week and I would rather just sleep until graduation.”

Reaching over, Jo grabbed Alex’s toast and took a bite and then returned it to his plate. She looked at him curiously, watching as he stared deep into his coffee cup and didn’t flinch at her quick action. Alex usually swatted her hand away when she stole his food, or at least said something to her. In fact, she didn’t think he had spoken more than a brief hello to her all morning. 

“Are you okay? You seem off today,” Jo rested her hand on Alex’s shoulder, a pang of relief coursing through her as he leaned into her embrace. “What’s up? You stressed about your internship? Because you’re going to do great.”

“No it’s just,” Alex heaved a sigh and turned to Jo, his normally bright eyes a dull brown. He looked sad, upset almost, but Jo couldn’t tell why. “You know I love you, right?”

A brilliant smile took over Jo’s face, a distinct glow coming about her as she leaned her forehead against Alex’s. 

“Of course I do,” Jo pecked Alex’s lips quickly, one hand coming up to rub his cheek. “I love you too. You’re pretty special, you know that?”

Alex responded with a nod, leaning up and kissing Jo once more. She left the seat next to him after that, checking on her tables and refilling coffees before heading back to him. Alex was shrugging his coat on as she walked up, coffee cup drained and bill paid. 

“Heading out?”

“Yeah I got stuff to do,” Alex pulled Jo in close, lips meeting hers in a kiss that was much more passionate than what he’d normally reserve for the diner. He pulled back and stared into Jo’s eyes, a look of longing filling the dark orbs. “I meant what I said. I love you Jo.”

“I love you too,” Jo whispered back, leaning up and kissing Alex once more before patting his chest and stepping away from him. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, I’m working a double today. Bye Alex!”

“Goodbye Jo,” Alex stood a moment longer in the doorway of the diner, watching Jo carefully as she flitted around the dining room. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping out into the cool August breeze. 

+

“Hey pretty girl, where’s your hotshot boyfriend now? Dipped out on you?”

Jo tried as much as she could to tune out the catcalls and insults flowing from the rowdy table of boys behind her. What she would give for Alex to come swooping in to save her like he did that first day they’d met, but she knew that he wouldn’t. She hadn’t seen him in so long, the August weather turning darker and colder as the months shifted to autumn. It was November now and between classes and the diner, Jo barely had a spare moment to think of the man she’d fallen in love with. 

Except that she did. 

Every minute of the day all Jo could think about was Alex and how much she missed him. His phone number had been disconnected, his apartment was cleaned out, and she hadn’t seen his beat up red pickup truck since it was parked outside of the diner the last day she’d seen him. She’d even gone down to the county hospital to look for him, but a nurse had informed her that there wasn’t anyone under his name working there, much to Jo’s dismay. 

She knew she was being stupid, that Alex and her had just had a fleeting summer romance and she needed to let it go. There was not going to be a magical reunion like the beginning of Grease, there would be no singing and there would be no happy ending for Jo. But she couldn’t let Alex go, she didn’t think she would ever be able to.

“You need to calm down, I know there’s a lot going on, but you are not helping me out,” Jo sighed, eyes closing as she took a moment to press a hand to her protruding stomach. “I know you get excited when we’re here but today… I can’t deal with the constant kicking of my bladder little boy.”

You know when you’re already down and out and then something comes along and just knocks you flat on your ass? That’s exactly what Jo was experiencing. After spending two weeks straight crying over Alex and insurance commercials and the grocery store being out of strawberry ice cream, she’d finally realized that her period was late and that she just might be carrying the child of a man who didn’t want to be found by her. Three stupid plastic tests later confirmed just what Jo had thought: Come April of next year, she would be a mom. 

“We’ll get through today and all the days coming,” Jo sighed as she spoke to herself, a few tears slipping out and dragging down her cheeks. “It’ll all be okay, things will change for us.”

[searchingwardrobes]

Priceless: 8/9

I was planning on this being the last chapter, but I simply couldn't fit in everything I wanted to do, so there will be one more. I also couldn't resist this cliffhanger. Just don't hate me! *hides* Although you can partially blame my wonderful beta, @xhookswenchx​. She encouraged me when I mentioned doing a cliffhanger. Though she did yell at me once she actually read it ;)

I also noticed a huge error. I had Will Scarlett in earlier chapters as Killian's contact for the job. Then he popped up again in the last chapter as a cabbie! Oops! That's the problem with taking months to update. I loved Will as the cabbie, though, so I went back and changed the sketchy contact to Jefferson. I think it fits better, actually.

Summary: Desperate men often find themselves in places they never thought they would go, but for Killian Jones it would finally force him to be the hero his daughter always thought he could be. The job was simple: drive the truck, don’t open the back, don’t ask questions. But Killian Jones has never followed instructions very well …

An AU of the movie Priceless starring Joel Smallbone of For King and Country.

Rating: M for themes

Trigger warnings: This story is about human trafficking so there are discussions of rape and non-con, some of it involving minors. None of it is portrayed as positive nor is it graphically described. If you have any specific questions or concerns before reading, feel free to message me.

**in this chapter specifically, there are depictions of violence**

THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING, I SWEAR!!!!

Also on Ao3 as part of my movie au series Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom Com: 2nd Edition. There is also a First Edition.

Tagging: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @welllpthisishappening @bethacaciakay @teamhook @let-it-raines @wellhellotragic @winterbaby89 @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @shady-swan-jones @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @spartanguard @scientificapricot @stahlop @delirious-latenight-laughs @resident-of-storybrooke @vvbooklady1256 @tiganasummertree​ @nikkiemms​  @jennjenn615​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @shipsxahoy​ @cat-sophia​ @artistic-writer​ @thejacketandthehook​ @hollyethecurious​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @branlovestowrite​ @dassala​ @allofdafandoms-blog​ @snidgetsafan​ @pocket-anon​ @optomisticgirl​ @flslp87​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @courtorderedcake​ @superchocovian​ @distant-rose​

Chapter Summary: After rescuing Emma from the spa, Killian faces dire consequences for his actions.

The cabbie Will whistled in admiration as he turned onto the drive to David and Mary Margaret’s place. I agreed with his assessment - this wasn’t just a home, it was a ranch, and a large spread at that. The cab drove beneath a stone archway. Swinging from the center of it were scrolling iron letters that said “Misthaven Farm.” The land up on these hills was more lush, and there were several smaller buildings lining the long drive that took us up to the house. I assumed they were barns and stables, though no animals were visible at this hour. Will parked the cab in a circular drive right in front of a two story house built of uncut stones and raw timber to give it a rugged air. It was large, but not massive, just the right size to be welcoming and homey.

Will whistled once again when I paid him handsomely for the long ride, much more than was necessary. I wasn’t just paying him for driving. I was paying him for being a good man, one who would ask questions to ensure the safety of an inebriated woman in his cab. And despite my desperation to make a way to be with my daughter, I could no longer keep the money Gold had given me. It was dirty, and I wanted to be rid of it as quickly as possible.

Emma still couldn’t walk, so I scooped her up again and carried her to the Nolan’s front door. Mary Margaret opened it before I even reached the front stoop, rushing forward with a gasp despite the phone pressed to her ear.

“Oh my God, um, Regina, I’ll have to call you back!” She hung up, her hands fluttering around Emma as if she wanted to help her but wasn’t sure what to do. “What happened?”

“I found her, and I couldn’t just do nothing.”

It wasn’t the greatest explanation, but I was more concerned about Emma. Mary Margaret motioned towards the stairs and I followed her up. Emma lifted her head, but her eyes couldn’t seem to focus on anything. She mumbled something, then her head lolled back onto my shoulder.

“They drugged her.” Mary Margaret wasn’t asking a question.

She led me into a modest bedroom at the top of the stairs. It held only a full size bed in one corner, a small dresser, and a desk pressed against a wall. Opposite the bed was a door that led to a small bathroom.

“This isn’t much,” Mary Margaret explained, “but I thought she might be more comfortable here.”

Frankly, I didn’t think Emma cared where she was. I deposited her gently onto the bed, slipped the glittery gold stilettos off her feet, and edged her under the covers. I tucked her in like I often did for Alice, but stopped short of brushing a kiss to her temple. I turned to go, but Emma surprised me by grabbing my hand.

“Please stay,” she whispered.

I glanced over my shoulder at Mary Margaret. She cast her gaze pointedly to the floor and arched a brow. I got her meaning fully and eased down to sit on the floor by Emma’s bed.

“As you wish,” I whispered to Emma.

She let out a shuddering breath and then her whole body relaxed, though she didn’t release my hand. When Mary Margaret slipped out, she left the door cracked open. I stayed there with Emma’s hand grasping mine, my head resting against the edge of the bed. I didn’t think I would be able to sleep, but somehow, my body relaxed and I dozed off.

When my eyes opened again, the light of early dawn streamed through the window, and I realized Emma’s weeping had awakened me. She had released my hand at some point, and when I turned my head I found her curled into the fetal position, facing the wall. I rose up on my knees and placed my hand tentatively on her upper back.

“Emma?”

She tensed, and I withdrew my hand. A heavy silence filled the room, but I didn’t know how to comfort her or what to say. Finally, she rolled over, clasping the blanket tighter around her frame. It enveloped her like a cocoon, and I cursed myself for not asking Mary Margaret to help her change her clothes the night before. The skin tight red dress Emma wore beneath the covers barely contained her curves and couldn’t have been comfortable. A shiver rocked her frame, and I winced.

“I’ll get Mary Margaret,” I finally said, rising quickly to my feet.

“Not yet,” she whispered, then pressed her eyes shut as more tears spilled down her cheeks.

I stood there, feeling helpless and awkward. I noticed an extra blanket draped over the desk chair, and grabbed it. She was still shaking, so I draped the blanket over her, careful not to touch her. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

“I don’t deserve to be here,” Emma whispered.

“What do you mean, love?” I asked, sinking to the very edge of the bed.

“My sisters. I don’t deserve to be here when they’re still -” her voice broke as if she couldn’t bring herself to say it. “I’m an awful person.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is! Because I’m here, and they’re not, but I . . . I feel . . . “

“Relieved?”

She pressed her eyes shut, as if ashamed of herself. “I was so relieved to hear your voice at the spa. I shouldn’t have called out for you.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Emma’s eyes flew open suddenly, and she scrambled up, shoving me aside as her feet hit the floor. She struggled to stand, with both blankets still wrapped around her, but she swayed and I had to help her sit back down.

“Careful,” I admonished, “I don’t know what they gave you, but it may take awhile for the effects to wear off.”

“I don’t know either,” she whispered, dropping her head to her hands, “but after the first time, they didn’t have to force the pills down my throat. It . . . numbed things, and sometimes if I passed out . . . it was better that way.”

I blinked back tears at the defeat in her voice, and I couldn’t help it any longer. I pulled her next to me and held her close. I whispered nonsense meant to comfort as I stroked her hair. Just empty words, but she clung to my shirt nevertheless, and I prayed that they helped.

“I have to go back. Gold may be mad, but he’ll take me -”

“Over my dead body.”

Emma pulled back sharply. “Killian, I have to! Elsa is still sick, Anna’s just a kid -”

I stilled her words with a finger to her lips. “Emma, do you really think they’ll honor their word?”

“At least I’ll be with them! Besides, what options do we have? We’ll be arrested. Deported.”

“You don’t have to be.” Mary Margaret’s voice spoke from the bedroom doorway, and Emma and I turned to her in surprise. “That phone call I was on when you got here last night? It was my stepsister, Regina. She’s an immigration lawyer, and she says that victims of trafficking by law can’t be deported.”

“But I’ve heard stories from the other girls,” Emma protested, but Mary Margaret cut her off as she sat next to her on the bed and took her hands in hers.

“Yes, some do get deported, I won’t lie, but that’s usually because they don’t know their rights. Or they’re too afraid to speak up against their traffickers. Sometimes the law doesn’t understand what trafficking looks like. It’s not always kidnapping and locked doors. It’s manipulation, fear, and sometimes even Stockholm syndrome.”

Emma nodded. “There’s a girl there in the house - Ivy. She thinks Neal really loves her; thinks the brothel is a family.”

I could tell Mary Margaret was forcing back tears, and I thought of her daughter. Mary Margeret cupped Emma’s face in her hands. “But that’s not you. That’s not your sisters. Not only that, you’ll have Regina. She says she’ll represent you, pro bono.”

Tears poured down Emma’s face. “Why would you do this for me?”

Mary Margaret shrugged. “Faith means we care for those who can not care for themselves.” Then she leaned forward and pressed a motherly kiss to Emma’s head. “Now,” she said, forcing a smile upon her face. “I’ve put towels and a change of clothes in the bathroom over there. They may not fit perfectly, but I thought they’d at least be comfortable. How about you shower and then I’ll fix you some breakfast?”

Emma gave the other woman a wobbly smile. “That sounds nice.”

After Emma rose and shuffled into the bathroom, still wrapped up in the blankets, Mary Margaret gave me a weighted look. “I need to talk to you,” she whispered, and dread coiled in my belly.

I followed her wordlessly downstairs and into the kitchen. I almost tripped over my own feet to see David sitting at the kitchen table with a wet towel pressed to a gash on his head. I looked frantically around the room, my dread only increasing.

“Where’s Liam?”

David’s jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet my gaze. “We were run off the road by an unmarked SUV. We slammed into a ditch, and I hit my head. When I came to, Liam was gone.”

I looked frantically around the room. “They know where we are?”

David shook his head. “I hitchhiked home in a farmer’s pickup. We weren’t close enough to the ranch for them to put things together.”

I sank to the chair next to David. “They just wanted Liam then.” I didn’t even ask why - all three of us already knew.

My phone, still in my pocket, rang. My hands shook as I answered it, and the voice on the other end made my blood run cold.

“Hello, Romeo. That’s quite the rescue you pulled off.”

“Gold,” I ground out, “what do you want?”

“I want my property, naturally. I’m assuming you want your brother. Alive, preferably?”

I pressed my eyes closed as the words hit home. When I opened them, David and Mary Margaret were right by my side. Liam? Mary Margaret mouthed, and I nodded.

“What are you asking?” I finally managed to ask.

“A trade. My girl for your brother. Simple as that.”

My mind spun as I tried to come up with a plan. When it finally came to me, it sounded crazy, but if I played my cards right, it could work.

“Not so fast,” I answered him, adding an edge to my voice. “I know how valuable Swan is. A trade’s not good enough.”

“I don’t know that you’re in a position to negotiate,” Gold snapped. “I can put a fucking bullet in your brother’s head.”

I tsked, “Come now, Gold, don’t be hasty. The way I see it, I’ve got plenty of evidence that I can take to multiple government agencies. Trafficking, immigration violations, drugs - would you like me to continue?”

“What’s your point?” he growled.

I paced, my gaze focused on the tile in the Nolan’s kitchen. “I’ll give you Swan, but I want more than my brother back. I want her sisters too.”

Gold barked out a laugh. “Why in the world would I do that?”

“Elsa’s sick, and it’s gonna cost you to get her well, or you would have done it already. Once she’s well though, she can make me some serious money.”

“I thought you were in love,” Gold replied dryly.

“That’s what I wanted her to think,” I sneered, “and it worked. I had her eating out of my hand. She was good, I’ll say that, but she’s not the only blonde in the world. I’ve seen the money that can be made in this business.”

“And you want in.”

“With you? Hardly. I want to start my own business and with a blonde and an underage red head? I can.”

“The bid on the black market for that virgin keeps climbing,” Gold countered, “why should I give that up?”

“It’s a one time deal, and you’ve got other underage girls. I saw their photos at the house. I’ve gotta be in that market too if I want to build my business. But Swan? She’s top-tier. Even spoiled frat boys driving daddy’s Lexus can’t afford her. Long term, she’s worth way more than her kid sister.”

“How did you know that?”

“I have my sources.”

There was a long silence on the other line, and I prayed fervently to a God I wasn’t sure even cared about me. But he had to care about a frightened sixteen year old and her ill sister. Right? God if you’re there . . .

“Okay. Meet me -”

“No. My terms. I don’t trust you, Gold. You would double cross me in a heartbeat. I wanna make the trade in a public place. Broad daylight. No tricks.”

Gold growled, but relented. He named a time and a place. I knew it already - warehouses in a sketchy part of town. I shook my head at David, and he frantically scribbled on a piece of paper.

“Anthem Hills Park,” I countered.

“Are you insane? There will be -”

“Kids? Families? Exactly. No way you can screw me over in such a public place. Be there WITH Liam and the girls or the deal is off.” I hung up without waiting for a reply and prayed I hadn’t just doomed us all.

“Do you think he’ll be there?” Mary Margaret asked nervously.

I shook my head. “I don’t know, we just have to . . . “ I trailed off when I noticed Mary Margaret’s face go pale as she stared at something over my shoulder. I turned to see Emma sitting on the bottom of the stairs, her hair wet from her shower, and her eyes lifeless as she stared at me. “God, Emma, that wasn’t . . . I mean I didn’t -”

“I get it,” she interrupted in a shaky breath, “Anna’s young and Elsa’s sick, and I’m . . . already used up. Damaged.”

“Emma, no,” I told her as I came towards her, “that was all just an act for Gold.”

She looked up at me with a tentative smile. “Oh, I know that you didn’t mean any of that crap about the business. But let’s face it, Killian. You have to save our siblings, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes. We can’t let Gold hurt them.”

I sank to the step next to her and took both of her hands in mine. “I was bluffing with every word of it, Emma.”

“What? But -”

“No buts. I can’t let Gold hurt you either. Not anymore.”

***********************************************

Later that afternoon, I pulled into the lot at Anthem Hills Park. The day was gorgeous, and the park was filled with people. Children scampered about on the playground, their happy squeals ringing in the air. Parents sat and chatted on benches while others pushed strollers down the walking trails. Right next to the slides, on a park bench, were Gold and his son, Liam and the girls sandwiched between them, just as promised. Their backs were to us, and I swallowed nervously as I pulled David’s handgun out of the glove compartment. I set it on the dashboard and took a deep breath before fixing my gaze on Emma.

“Do you trust me?”

Emma nodded, but more than that, her eyes were blazing and her jaw was set in determination.

“Always.”

I nodded in return, then shoved the gun into the waistband of my jeans. Emma turned to open the car door, but I stilled her by gently grasping her hand. I rubbed my thumb tenderly over her knuckles as her eyes met mine.

“I don’t know how this will all play out, so I just need you to know . . . not a moment has gone by since we met that I haven’t thought about you.”

She searched my face, then her lips turned up in a teasing smile. “Good.”

I returned her smile, buoyed by the pleasure I saw in her eyes. We both exited the vehicle, and I pulled Emma close to my side as we crossed the grass. When we reached the park bench, Liam’s eyes met mine, and I saw a warning in them. He glanced at the girls on either side of him. Elsa, despite the fever trembling through her frame, was stiff and unnatural. Anna was even more so, her eyes wide and frightened. Gold and Neal both opened their coats just enough that I could see the guns they had pressed to the girls’ sides. I caught my brother’s eyes once more, trying to reassure him. This was nothing the Nolans and I hadn’t anticipated.

“Deal’s off,” Gold sneered, “give us our property - all of it - and we’ll let you and your brother be on your way.”

I smirked at Gold. “You know, I’ve been told that I’m many things. I’m too dramatic, I feel too much, I get too attached. I jump in with both feet, and I just don’t think things through.”

I pulled out my gun, brandishing it dramatically so anyone nearby could see. As expected, several screams immediately rang out. People started running, people shouted for someone to call 911. I smirked again at Gold.

“Police will be here any minute I’m guessing. Crazy guy with a gun at the park tends to draw attention.”

“You’re crazy!” Neal screamed, leaping to his feet and pointing his own gun right at me. The screams around us grew louder.

I had anticipated this too, and calmly shifted to point my gun back at him. Emma didn’t hesitate, but raced to Anna’s side and pulled her out of the way. Liam took advantage of the distraction. He leapt up and barrelled himself into Gold, shoving Elsa out of the way. A gun went off. Elsa screamed Liam’s name.

Then Emma screamed mine. I turned to see her tackle Neal and another shot went off. I was shoved from behind, the arm holding my gun wrenched behind my back. My face was shoved to the ground, and handcuffs were slapped on my wrists. A cop began to read me my rights.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law . . . “

From my place on the ground, I saw Emma scramble off Neal, her hands red with blood. Neal lay face first, lifeless, blood spreading beneath him, staining the ground. Anna raced to her, weeping and holding her close. She was safe.

I turned my head to see more blood staining the ground.

Liam lay prone and still, Elsa weeping over him.

[vulpesmellifera]

WIP Wednesday: 7.8.2020

Oops, it’s Thursday again. X-D

Mystrade

Taking Flight:

Posted chapter 16 to AO3.

Among the Roses:

Finished editing the hard copy, now about to input the edits to the online document, and send to my stupendous beta.

The Ghost in the Graphite:

Been writing like crazy these past couple days. At ten chapters and 28k now.

Like Stars:

Random oneshot, less than 1k, posted to AO3!

Johnlock

Inhale With Ease: 

edited final two chapters and passed them to the betas!

Posted another chapter to AO3!

Here’s a little unedited something from The Ghost in the Graphite:

Mycroft is pointedly not looking at the drawings, which tells me he’s seen them. Looked at all of them. Why was he even over here at my desk at all?

“Mycroft,” I say.

Mycroft pauses. He rolls the soaked rag into a ball. Picks up the wineglass and stands. Doesn’t look at me. “You have quite an interesting hobby. I knew, despite rarely seeing you hold a pen or paper, you must have spent quite a lot of time with pen and paper.”

“How’d you know that?” I ask.

“Your right ring finger. The callus over the top knuckle, just venturing on the inner side of your finger. Suggests many years of a writing implement having rested there, having moved there.” His gaze sweeps toward the drawings. “This, I did not predict, though.”

My cheeks burn. “Did you - did you knock them over on purpose? Trying to...figure out my source for the mask and the symbol?”

Mycroft’s eyes snap to mine. He says nothing. I have caught him red-handed, and thank the gods he will not prevaricate or try to weasel his way out of it. It’s almost refreshing. 

He points a finger at the young girl looking over his shoulder in the one and only sketch of him. “Who is she supposed to be?”

I level a gaze at him. I’m feeling reckless. One thing about having this “gift,” is that it gets lonely. It’s hard. My da and my grandnan knew, of course. My wife. She thought it was “cool” at first, but then it alternately scared her and exhausted her. “Why don’t you tell me?”

His eyes widen. “What do you mean by that?”

“She’s yours,” I say. “Your...familiar, or follower, or...haunt.”

“Haunt?” Mycroft says, his voice incredulous, and his eyes whitening.

“I dreamt of her,” I say. “She follows you, and I think...I think she might have followed Sherlock once.” I got that sense while drawing her with Mycroft. “She’s young. Just a little child. But she’s...frightening, I think. Has power. And she’s not asking for my help, but she is lingering nonetheless. She’s all burnt up -”

“Stop.” Mycroft’s voice is harsh. Hard. He looks panicked. I’ve never seen Mycroft Holmes panicked. I’ve seen him concerned, I’ve seen him upset, and I’ve seen him angry and exasperated. Now, he’s…afraid? “Who told you?”

“Told me what?” I feel the hairs all across my neck and back stand on end. I feel that nervy edge of a fight coming on. 

“Who gave you that information?” His voice is thunderous, and his face has changed to one of hatred. I almost flinch beneath his gaze, but I hold it. I’m no wilting flower. I’m a man with little left to lose.

“You did. Or she did. I’m not sure how it all works.” I almost delight in confusing him, as I watch his brow make tiny micro-movements as his mind whirls to decipher whatever ‘game’ he thinks I’m playing. 

“This isn’t a game,” he says. I don’t know how he manages to read my thoughts so often.

“I’m not playing,” I say. “I’m telling you.” Because it’s hard. It’s lonely. It’s helped to ruin my closest friendships and my marriage. It estranged me from my father. And soon enough, it’ll push Mycroft Holmes out of my life, too. “I dream things. Sometimes, I draw things. It’s like something enters me, and I can’t help it. I can’t stop myself.” I swallow, because this is the truly frightening part. “When I draw, it’s like I’m not even there.” I’m not even there.

Mycroft’s face contorts into a look of disgust. “You maintain that you harbour some sort of skill in extrasensory perception, and you expect me to believe it?”

“How else would I know about her?” I say as I point to the drawing. Mycroft flinches on the word ‘her.’ 

“Then, do you know her name?” he asks.

I shake my head no. “She didn’t speak. She only follows you around.”

His face pales. Then hardens again as he places the wineglass on the desk with a clink and drops the rag beside it. “Greg Lestrade, so help me, I -”

“I don’t know, okay!” I yell. “It’s been with me all my life, and it’s the most horrible thing; I wouldn’t wish it on anyone!” 

Mycroft stares at me. “And Sherlock? He visited you in your dreams, too?”

I deflate. It kills me to answer. “No. I wanted him to. I...I would go to Bart’s, where he fell. I’d stand by the spot, the exact spot, and get nothing. I even went up to the roof and stood at the edge. I’ve been to his grave. I’ve told him to come. I’ve asked him to come. In hopes he’d hear me somehow.” I gesture to the drawings of his face, that pointed gaze sent heavenward. “He’s never come. So, maybe he’s moved on to wherever people go? I don’t know. I had hoped - well, I hoped. But the ones I want to visit me never do.” For a second, I remember my mother’s picture. I keep exactly one wallet-sized photo in a box in the bedroom closet. Billie Lestrade née Sullivan. Big smile and a riot of curly hair. 

Grandnan, too. I thought she’d come. She never did.

“I sat around and drew Sherlock. Sometimes, I can get the dead to visit when I draw them. He never came.” Somehow I feel like I should apologise to Mycroft for this one. I lift my shoulders and step forward to pick the drawings up. Mycroft steps back. 

It’s fine. It’s what I expected. Get it over with now. After Cass, I gave myself a talking-to. That it was better for someone like me to be alone. 

My attraction to Mycroft isn’t really appropriate anyway.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 32

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle.  It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes.  With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays.  Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3  |  Masterlist

—

Saturday morning

The trilling coming from the nightstand woke her, and with an annoyed whine Rose stretched out her arm, searching blindly for the offending mobile.  Finding it she brought it to her face, prying one eye open to read the display – it wasn’t quite half seven, and it was an incoming call from Clara.

“Who’s it?” her husband mumbled against the back of her neck, wrapped tightly around her, and she pressed back against him.

“Clara.”

His panicked “Rose, no,” came too late- she’d already swiped to answer the call, Clara’s face filling the screen for a FaceTime call instead of the voice-only Rose had expected.

The small box in the corner showing what Clara was seeing told Rose that her best friend would be able to see (and unable to deny) that Rose and Malcolm were in bed together.  Oops.  “Erm, hi, Clar,” Rose offered half-heartedly, wriggling the fingers of her free hand in a wave.  “What’s up?”

“Please tell me you’re not in the middle of having sex,” the brunette said faintly, and to Rose’s further embarrassment Danny’s face immediately popped up behind Clara, his eyes widening for just a moment before he disappeared off screen again.

“We were sleeping,” Malcolm rolled his eyes, his arm wrapping tighter around Rose’s waist.  “Did you need something?”

Clara still appeared stunned, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth slightly open.  “We usually talk at this time,” she managed.  “It’s Saturday.  I assumed you’d be up- awake!  I thought you’d be awake.”  She shook her head.  “I don’t understand.”

Rose bit her lip, glancing over her shoulder at Malcolm, who nodded encouragingly.  “We… we’re together.  We talked it out and- we’re together.”

“Properly together or fuck-buddies together?”

“Clara!” Malcolm protested.  “Really.”

Rose elbowed him, smiling nervously.  “Properly together.  In all the gooey, mushy, lovestruck glory of a forever kind of love together.”

She waited for Clara’s response, anxious – though throughout everything Clara had seemed on board with the idea, had encouraged them both, at the moment of reckoning Rose worried she wouldn’t take it well.

“But you are shagging?”

“Clar.”

A wide smile spread over Clara’s face, and she began to squeal.  “Oh, really?  Really really really?”  She clapped in delight, turning to yell over her shoulder, “They’re in love!”

Danny’s off-camera reply of “No shit” just made them all laugh.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you,” Clara gushed, leaning forward towards her mobile as if that would bring her closer to them.  “Last we talked you weren’t sure how he felt – what happened?  Tell me everything.”

-

He found her in the kitchen of all places, perched on a barstool at the island next to Jack rifling through a familiar box, most of its contents spread on the countertop while across from them, Ianto worked diligently on building a veritable tower of sandwiches for them to take with them.

“Having fun jewelry shopping?” Malcolm asked, sidling up beside her, but judging by the way she jumped and looked up guiltily, his teasing tone hadn’t come through.

“I wanted to bring Clara something, after the way she found out.  If that’s okay,” she fumbled, peering up at him, and he smiled back in response.

“Oh, sweetheart.”  He brushed a tendril of hair from her face.  “This is all yours as much as it is mine – I was only teasing.  Have what you like, and if you want to give it to Clara, that’s perfectly fine and a wonderful idea.  Have you picked anything yet?”  Tearing his gaze from her he surveyed the countertop, covered in rings and necklaces mostly, gems sparkling in the industrial lighting Jack had installed as they were technically in the basement.

Relaxing back against him she showed him the few pieces she was considering, and when he pointed to one he thought his daughter might rather like, confessed it was her top contender as well.

“What about me, don’t I deserve something pretty?” Jack wanted to know, making Malcolm roll his eyes as Rose carefully returned the other jewelry pieces to the box, selection made.

“You’re the custodian of this place- how would I know what you do with it when I’m not here?” he shot back, arching an eyebrow at his cousin.  “In fact, I’d prefer not to know what you get up to, knowing you.”  His eyes cut to Ianto, who was doing a poor job of hiding a smirk, though he didn’t look up.

Shaking his head, he slipped an arm around Rose’s waist so she had to lean back and tilt her head up to see him.  “Ready to hit the road, sweetheart?”

She nodded, before scrunching up her face.  “Maybe one last walk through the house and gardens first, yeah?”

“I would love nothing more.”

-

They strolled hand in hand, and Rose did her best to soak up everything before they left, only realizing now how little of the house she’d seen.  “I am a little sorry to be leaving so soon,” she confessed, as they stepped out into the garden.  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled about our little tour, but I feel I didn’t get enough time here.”

“Well, we can return anytime you wish,” he shrugged.  “It’s not that expensive to come up.  Or we could even drive once, stay over on our way up.  Sightsee in England as well.”

“I love that idea.  Maybe I watch too much American telly, but the idea of a road trip always seemed so romantic.”  She leaned her head against his bicep.  “Have I mentioned lately how happy I am, with you?”

He let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her tighter against him.  “No happier than I am to have you.  I’ve been dreaming of this, of being with you, for… a few years now.  I never thought it would happen, could happen, but I’m so happy it has.”

“I’ve loved you for so long,” she murmured in reply, slipping her hand around his back beneath his jacket.  “It still feels unreal to be able to tell you that.”

“Can you believe it’s only been a week?”  His hand slid down from her waist to her hip, dangerously close to being a (very welcome) grope.  “Last Saturday at this time we were getting ready for the Gala, and I thought the night would be perfect if I could hold you for several dances.  I had no idea what was to come, but I’m so happy it did.”

Rose smiled, thinking back to that night – how nervous she’d been, how she’d worried that he might reject her.  If only she’d known…  “I did.”

“What?”  He looked down at her, startled, and she laughed.

“It didn’t just happen.  I spent all week wrestling with myself, but I decided to shoot my shot as the cool kids say.  I deliberately seduced you.”  It was fun, watching the emotions play across his face as he digested that, and she was quietly relieved when he settled on stunned delight.

“Really?”

She nodded.  “Yep.  And, you’ll love this – it was Clara’s idea.  She encouraged me.  Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to- wanted you- but she convinced me I wouldn’t be making a fool of myself.”

“Clara?  My Clara?”  He looked adorably indignant, spluttering slightly.  “I don’t know if I should be grateful or annoyed at her interference.”  Then his brow furrowed.  “How, exactly, did you seduce me?”

“I’m sorry, did you see me in that dress?”

“And out of it.”  He smirked.  “You were stunning.”

“Damn right.  That was the point – I wanted your hands on my skin.  And I knew it was going to happen the moment you saw me and did your best impression of a fish.  And then you said fuck me.”  She smiled at the memory.  “So I did.”

He stopped walking then, turning to her, and then his mouth was on hers, tongue easing past parted lips, and she sagged into him, savoring the freedom to adore him, to let her heart sing with love.

“Thank you,” he whispered against her lips, when they finally pulled back for air.  Her brain was foggy, everything forgotten but for the taste of him.  Her befuddlement must have shown on her face because he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.  “For being brave enough,” he elaborated.  “I’m not sure I would have ever gotten up the courage to try my luck with you- I was too afraid of losing you.  I’d convinced myself I’d be happier in the long run pining for you with the possibility hanging over my head than if I asked and you turned me down.”

Rose smiled up at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning closer, glancing around the estate – they were alone in the garden, with a wonderful view of the back of the house, and she thought wistfully of the previous owner.  “I think we have Wallace to thank, really,” she murmured.  “He saw the truth, apparently, and got tired of watching us stand off to the side, too afraid to jump – so he pushed us.”

He dipped his head to kiss her, a small miracle that grew more familiar with every press of lips, though the familiarity did not lessen the impact he had on her – quickened heartbeat, shallow breaths, and an overwhelming desire to find the nearest flat surface.  Not that the last bit was anything particularly new, he had often unknowingly elicited such a response in her, but now, now, she knew he would be in enthusiastic favor of such a diversion.

The future was ripe with possibilities.

-

“We’ll have to keep in touch,” Rose enthused, hugging Sarah Jane goodbye.  It was finally time to go, and the woman had been kind enough to come see them off.  “I have your email, and I’ll write you once we’re home.”

“And call,” the older woman ordered, squeezing her tightly.  “I want to hear all about your tour.  Well, most of it.  No, all of it.”

They shared a smirk that made Malcolm’s ears go red and Jack cough in a poor attempt to hide a laugh.

“We’ve a lot of driving to do today…” her husband tried to hurry them along, trying to shift Rose using his hands around her waist.  “Time to go.”

Rose resisted, though, going in for one more hug.  “Next time we come we’ll bring Clara,” she promised on the fly.  “So you can meet properly.  She’d love to hear your stories about your days in uni- especially if they involve her.”

“There’s plenty of those,” Sarah Jane laughed in response.  “Not all of them are ones she’ll want to hear, though.”

“In that case, I have to hear them.”

Then it was time to say goodbye to Jack, and overcome by an unexpected wave of emotion, Rose buried her face in the man’s broad shoulder.  “I’m going to miss you,” she mumbled.  “I’m so glad we got a chance to get to know one another.”

“So am I,” he said kindly as they pulled away, before glancing over her shoulder at Malcolm.  “Don’t be strangers – we’re family.”

“We’ll be back,” Rose repeated, wiping at her eyes.  “Thank you for everything.”

“Jack,” Malcolm said somewhat stiffly, as Rose leaned into his side, holding out his hand to his cousin.

“My Lord,” the younger man said in reply, before breaking into a smile.  “C’mere.”  The two men hugged, Rose watching on with a watery smile.  “So, where’s the first stop?”

Having played a large part in planning their itinerary, it was an obvious ploy to keep them there a little longer.  Malcolm knew it as well, but indulged the delay.  “Walk through the Old Town in Inverness, stop for lunch.  Rose wants to see Culloden, then we’ll drive along the coast down to Aberdeen, stopping along the way as she likes.”

Jack nodded, lips pressed together tightly, a hint of moisture in his eyes.  “A fine plan,” he managed.  “Travel safe.”

With one more hug it was time to go, Malcolm helping Rose up into the canary-yellow roadster before jogging around to the driver’s side.  She waved as they drove off until they were out of sight, before settling back in her seat and resting her head on her husband’s shoulder.

“We’ll be back soon enough,” he promised, taking one hand off the wheel to pat at her knee.  “There’s lots more to Scotland to explore.”

She nodded, watching the town of Bonnar Bridge fly past, before sitting bolt upright, eyes widening.  “Hey!”

“What?”

“How come we’ve been in Scotland for a week and I have yet to see you in a kilt?”

He laughed, the sound bright and cheerful, before shaking his head.  “I’ve one in my bag, I can try it on for you later if you like,” he offered, grinning.

“Good.  I want to find out for myself if it’s true.”

“If what’s true?”

Her smile widened, hand landing on his knee before sliding upwards.  “What you do- or don’t- wear under that thing.”

“Rose Tyler!”

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Operation Count Chocula

A/N: Idek what this is... you can thank @somefeministtheatrepls for this, based on this post. I changed it up a little! Gets a little cracky and I have no regrets

~2.5k words

Rated T for one (1) mildly dirty joke

Read on AO3

XXX

If someone had asked Blaine his senior year of high school whether he was going to be an active member of Greek life during college, he would have laughed in surprise and told them a solid no. His first year in college proved that his stance wasn’t as firm as he’d initially thought. 

Quinn had been the one to recruit him into Nu Beta Kappa. She was in his Reading in Short Story and Drama class, and after working on their final project together, she convinced him to rush NBK. She had pointed out that Greek life wasn’t all about parties and hazing, and that NBK focused on serving the community and striving for social equality. 

Currently, he was in his Junior year of college and in the chip aisle of the local Walmart, standing next to his Big Sister, the aforementioned Quinn Fabray. 

“I hate shopping for the house,” she lamented. “There are better things I could be doing with my life at three AM on a Friday night.”

“Isn’t it technically Saturday, then?” Blaine pointed out. 

“Aren’t Vice Presidents supposed to support their Presidents?”

He mocked a salute at her. “Nothing but respect for my President, madam Fabray.”

Blaine suddenly whipped his head around when he heard Santana, their Sergeant at Arms, cry out from the next aisle down. “You can have this box of Count Chocula when it falls from my cold, dead, hands, Gromit!”

He and Quinn exchanged concerned looks before sprinting down to find Santana. When they found her, Puck and Brittany, two more Nu Beta Kappa sisters, had shown up in support and were standing behind her. Santana had a death grip on the family size box of cereal, but so did the unusually tall boy standing across from her. 

Blaine recognized him as Finn Hudson, the treasurer for Omicron Sigma, Nu Beta Kappa’s “masculine” counterpart. They had the same values as NBK, but NBK had been started by female students who were not allowed to rush OS in the 1940s. In the end, both organizations eventually became co-Ed (all members of OS were “brothers” regardless of gender, and likewise, all members of NBK were “sisters”). However, they never did quite seem to overcome that bad blood between them.

There were four more members of OS standing behind Finn. A blond haired guy with a large mouth, a dark skinned girl with curly hair and a stylish beret, a short girl with bangs, and...

Blaine made a sharp intake of breath because standing next to the girl with beret was the most gorgeous guy he’d ever seen. He was wearing a grey hoodie with Property of ΟΣ printed in athletic font in the front, on top of checkered pajama pants. His hair, though disheveled from an obvious lack of sleep, was still light and had bounce to it. His eyes crystal blue eyes were half lidded, and seemed sunken in with drowsiness. 

Blaine thought he looked fantastic.

“This cereal is for my girlfriend!” Finn exclaimed, tugging the box closer to his chest. 

“Yeah, well this cereal is for my girlfriend!” Santana snapped back, tugging it closer to her chest in return.

Finn furrowed his eyebrows, unsure of what to do next. He turned his head back to nameless hot guy, still clutching the box. “Wait, Kurt, do I have to give it to her because of like, gay rights?”

The boy—Kurt, apparently—pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. “You don’t have to, but you should so we can go the fuck home.”

“No,” Finn grunted. “This is a matter of pride now. I clearly had the box first. I’m not going to let Nu Beta Kappa just take anything they want. Again.”

Uh oh. Last semester, Omicron Sigma and Nu Beta Kappa had both been planning an end of the banquet for members and tried to get the same venue for the day after finals ended. Santana had been president at the time and finessed her way onto the Cherry Tea Tree room’s schedule. Clearly, certain members of Omicron Sigma took it personally.

“Well, all we wanted was equal rights some seventy odd years ago, so I think things even out!” Santana said.

“Lord Tubbington owes a lot of money and he needs the Count Chocula to cope,” Brittany said in a panic.

From across the aisle, Blaine saw Kurt’s cheeks redden at the spectacle and wondered if the heat rising to his own face was now visible. He loved his friends, but god, were they extra as hell. He and Kurt exchanged glances that were equal parts amusement and horror. 

“I’ll arm wrestle you for it,” Santana challenged. 

Finn burst out into uproarious laughter. “You’re like, half my height. I think I can take you.”

“Then come on,” she sniped. “Put your Count Chocula where your mouth is!”

Kurt’s jaw dropped and he looked over to Blaine, gesturing to Finn as if to say Can you believe them?

Blaine nodded along and raised his eyebrows as if to say, I know, right? He was glad to see his gesture gain a smile from Kurt. He would have stayed the rest of the time staring at Kurt if Santana and Finn’s match hadn’t been so distracting.

When Blaine looked back towards them, they had their elbows on the empty cereal shelf, hands fastened in a deadlock against the others.

Finn pressed his arm down against Santana’s. 

Three of the four of Finn’s fraternity brothers cheered him on behind him. Likewise, Quinn, Puck, and Brittany all egged Santana on. Their collective shouts of growing excitement was a stark contrast to the silence in the rest of the store. Blaine was honestly surprised a manager hadn’t come to usher them out yet. But, he supposed, it was a college town. There are weirder things that happen in a grocery store at three AM.

It seemed like Santana was about to lose, but she must have tapped into strength that came from repressed rage and in a quick surge, pinned Finn’s arm against the metal. 

He looked at her, aghast by the outcome of the match. 

���Oh thank god, can we go home now?” Kurt asked. 

“Absolutely not!” Rachel screeched. 

Kurt groaned and threw his head back in frustration before letting it fall against the cart. He lifted his head up and mouthed to Blaine, They’re insane.

Blaine let out a chuckle and pointed to his friends, who were now exchanging obnoxiously celebratory high-fives with their champion. I know, he mouthed back. Them, too.

The short brunette stepped forward and hiked up the long sleeve of her blouse. “Let’s go, Satan.”

“Rachel, there is no way you can take her,” Kurt mumbled. 

“Just watch me.”

“You’re on, hobbit,” Santana growled.

If the first match had been short, this one had gone by at lightning speed. Blaine actually flinched when Rachel’s arm slammed against the metal. 

“No fair!” She cried. “I just... wasn’t ready, that’s all!”

Blaine stifled a laugh and rolled his eyes, making sure that Kurt could see him. Kurt returned the smile and shook his head. “Come on, guys.” Kurt said. “She won fair and square.”

Rachel pouted and crossed her arms before turning away and heading off into the other direction. 

“You know what,” the girl with the beret said. “We’ll see you next week.”

“We look forward to it, Mercedes!” Quinn huffed. Blaine gave her a condescending glance before rolling his eyes and leading the way to the front of the store.

Try as he might, Blaine couldn’t get the goofy smile off his face every time he imagined the interaction he just had with Kurt. Yes, it hadn’t seemed like much, and they hadn’t even spoken a verbal word to each other, and yet Blaine still found himself wondering if he should try and find the Omicron Sigma group before they left to try and get Kurt’s number.

“Hey Blaine,” Puck said, snapping him back to reality. “The water bottles are right there,” he said, pointing to a nearby stack.

“Huh?”

“The water bottles,” Puck repeated, stone faced as if Blaine should know exactly what he meant. “To quench your thirst for porcelain back there.”

He scoffed. “Shut up,” he grumbled, feeling his face warm. Blaine eventually decided against going to find Kurt right now, knowing he’d never hear the end of it from his friends. 

If it was meant to be, they’d cross paths again.

XXX

Noah Puckerman invited you and six others to join the secret messenger chat: Operation Count Chocula

Santana: What the hell is this, Puck?

Rachel: Who put me in a group chat with the devil herself?

Quinn: I’m with them on this one. Explain yourself, Noah.

Finn: Why am I in a group chat filled with NBKs!?!?

Puck: Listen here cumslut, we don’t want to mingle with you just as much as you don’t want to mingle with us. But it’s time we set aside our differences for a greater purpose. 

Mercedes: What the hell is he talking about?

Puck: True love.

Quinn: Oh dear god what the fuck

Sam: Is this about how Kurt and Blaine are clearly in love?

Brittany: Yeah, I picked up on that, too.

Puck: Yes! They left without each other’s numbers.

Finn: And why should we help you?

Puck: You wouldn’t be helping *me* you’d be helping them.

Puck: Besides, if we don’t do this, then we’ll probably have to endure like weeks of them stalking each other on Facebook, running into each other on campus and being too shy to make a move and then one of them will get a boyfriend because they think the other isn’t interested and it’ll all go to shit just TRUST ME

Quinn: That was a very… thorough… explanation.

Satan: WHO CHANGED MY NICKNAME TO THIS?

Benz: Finn, change her name back.

Benz: Wait a hot damn second. 

RyanSeacrestFan101: Lay off, I got that tattoo when I was 18!

Bottle Blond: MY HAIR IS NATURAL

Disaster Hair: Hey, my mohawk is iconic!

Yentl: First off, I am honored to share a name that Barbra once used on the stage. Secondly, whoever’s doing this, KNOCK IT OFF

Finn: I changed Santana’s name… I’ll change it back

Santana: Oh, my bad. I changed Mercedes’s name because I thought she changed mine.

Mercedes: Oops… I changed Quinn’s. 

Quinn: Alright, I changed Sam’s. 

Sam: I got pucks…

Puck: And I plead the fifth.

Puck: Can we get back to business please?

Rachel: Sure… what did you have in mind?

XXX

One Week Later

Quinn: This the dumbest plan ever

Liked by everyone in the group

Sam: So dumb, it just might work

Liked by everyone in the group

XXX

Kurt was one aisle over when he heard his brother call out an all too familiar phrase.

“Oh no! It’s the last box of Count Chocula, and someone has grabbed it!”

He rolled his eyes and trudged to the next aisle down. His mood instantly became brighter when he saw the NBK sisters from last week, Blaine in their midsts. He smiled and waved, a gesture that Blaine happily returned.

“So…” Kurt started when nobody had said anything after a few moments. “Finn, are you going to arm wrestle her for it, or are you going to finally swallow your pride?”

“Well, uh, you and Blaine have to fight for it.” He sputtered out quickly.

“What!?” Blaine cries out from the other side of the aisle. “Why?”

“Because I can’t,” Santana said quickly. Blaine looked at her with confusion. It wasn’t like her to turn down a competition. She noticed his suspicion and added, “I uh, pulled my arm muscle.”

“Doing what?” Blaine asked.

She shrugged. “Brittany.”

“I shouldn’t have asked.”

“So in my place,” she continued, shoving Blaine forward. “I choose, our valiant Vice President, who is just always so willing to help a sister out.”

“Yeah!” Finn started awkwardly. “And-and I can’t do it because I have a… paper cut?”

“A paper cut?” Kurt asked, his suspicion rising. He folded his arms across his chest. “You got a paper cut?”

“It was cardstock.” Finn explained. “Besides, you’re my brother, I need you to have my back on this.”

Kurt gaped at him. “I cannot believe you pulled the brother card in something as stupid as this.”

Finn beamed and pushed Kurt towards Blaine. “You’ll thank me for this one day.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Kurt walked up and met Blaine. “They’re insane…” his judgemental expression softened into one of fondness. “I missed you, by the way.”

“I missed you, too.” Blaine returned his smile. “But right now, I’m representing NBK and I’ve kinda been chosen to smack you down like the hand of god.”

“Oh, really?” Kurt raised his eyebrows, and gave Blaine a crooked grin. “You’ll regret that. I was going to suggest we just fake a tie, but it’ll be a lot more fun just winning.”

“Do you really think you can take me?” Blaine asked cheekily, placing his arm on the metal shelf. 

“I’m stronger than I look,” Kurt teased back, clasping Blaine’s hand in his. “After all, I did have you pinned down in the back seat of my car for the better part of an hour.”

Blaine sputtered at the memory and he lost his concentration, causing Kurt to gain the lead in the match. He smiled slyly. This was going to be an easy match.

“That’s cheating!” Blaine cried.

“No,” Kurt said. “That’s using my assets.”

“I don’t need to be reminded of your assets they’re very memorable.”

“When can I see you again?” Kurt asked, relaxing his grip just a bit and feeling Blaine reciprocate.

“Is this not our second date?” Blaine teased. “Breadstix was nice, but three AM at a Walmart is just so much classier.”

“You should see my bedroom at three AM.”

“What?” Blaine lost his concentration and in his moment of distraction, Kurt pressed his arm all the way down to the metal.

“Pinned ya.” Kurt grinned, leaning in closer to Blaine.

Kurt’s eyes were magnets, drawing Blaine in closer and closer. “You, Kurt Hummel, can pin me anytime you want,” he giggled.

Puck cupped his hands together around his mouth like a megaphone. “Now kiss!” It wasn’t long before their friends resembled a small picket line, demanding that Kurt and Blaine lock lips by chanting Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! in a steady beat.

“Should we tell them about our date on Thursday?” Blaine asked. “And that it went really, really well?”

Kurt quirked an eyebrow. “And take all the fun out of it? Yeah, right.”

Blaine’s face split with a wide grin before Kurt fisted Blaine’s shirt and pulled them together, the two rival Greek organizations cheering them on in the background.

[artificialqueens]

Give you what you craving (branjie) - writworm42

A/N: Title from Big Ole Freak by Megan Thee Stallion. For a friend of mine who I’m wishing the absolute best <3

Thank u thank u thank u Holtz for beta-ing <3 <3 <3 <3

DISCLAIMER: In this fic, Brooke calls Vanessa mommy in bed without any prior conversation. Don’t do that!!! Just because I let it slip here for the sake of the story doesn’t mean it’s okay in real life. FIC IS NOT A MODEL FOR REAL LIFE! In reality, before you call your partner by titles during sex, check with them to make sure it’s okay. Always make sure to check in with your partner consistently and frequently during sex!!!

“Vanjie? Vanj? Earth to Vanessa!”

Vanessa blinks, coming back to her surroundings just in time to see Asia waving her hand in front of her face, looking bemused.

“Is it just as good as last time she walked by?” Asia jokes, and Vanessa feels herself flush scarlet, her cheeks burning as she tries to think of a comeback.

She doesn’t have time to say anything to defend herself though, because their third cubicle-mate, Kameron, looks up from her computer screen, removing her earphones to grin over at her two friends.

“Was she checking out Brooke’s ass again?” Kam’s eyes are lit up with scandal and excitement, and Asia nods enthusiastically.

“Her tits, too, don’t think I didn’t see you craning to get an eyeful when you first heard her heels, Vanj.” Asia notes, and Kameron lets out a big whoop, one which Vanessa almost hits her for.

“Shut up!” Vanessa hisses. “Are you tryin’ to get us in trouble? We supposed to be working on processing those orders for that new cake-baking cookbook, not gossiping about something I most definitely absolutely was not doing. ”

“Sure, baby.” Kameron snorts, but nonetheless, she and Asia settle, turning back to their own desks to attend to their work. Or at least, Kameron and Asia do - Vanessa herself is, for whatever reasons, struggling to focus.

Reasons that have nothing at all to do with how Brooke walks by again a moment later, and how for a moment, Vanessa swears that she sees Brooke glance at her and smile.

“You could just talk to her, you know.” Kameron offers kindly, but Vanessa only grunts in response.

Vanessa’s a junior sales rep for the entire cookbook company, while Brooke is a copy editor for the baking section. They may not work together directly, but they’re still part of two different worlds–one world that’s just a hair away from being an intern, days spent in a flurry of spreadsheets and scutwork, versus another world that comes with a postgraduate degree and a great deal of respect. Brooke couldn’t possibly want anything to do with Vanessa, and pretending otherwise…

Well, Vanessa would be setting herself up for heartbreak, to say the least. She’s sure it would. So it’s better not to get her hopes up; better to just keep things neat and tidy, limit her fantasies to watching Brooke’s ass whenever she walks by and hoping that when she walks back, she might catch another glimpse at that shy, beautiful smile.

“Oh, come on, now, don’t be like that.” Asia scolds, turning back around. “Kam is right, you know. We have that employee mixer coming up, and God knows the woman finds every excuse she can to walk past us all hours of the goddamn day. Just talk to her, Vanj.”

Vanessa snorts, not bothering to look up from her computer. “What would I even say, bitch? ‘Hey, mama, you got a fine ass, lemme eat it?’”

But there’s no laughter that follows the joke, nor any advice to soothe over the genuine question behind it. Instead, there’s an uneasy beat of silence, during which Vanessa looks up and realizes–

Oh no.

Oh God.

Brooke’s standing at the entrance of Vanessa’s cubicle, clutching a manuscript and looking absolutely mortified.

“I’m–Oh, God, Brooke, I’m so sorry–” Vanessa starts, but it only seems to make things worse; Brooke flushes red, mumbles something about sending in some pages as a preview for a prospective client, and then rushes off, leaving stunned silence in her wake.

“Okay, so when I said talk to her, I didn’t mean like that–”

“Shut up, Asia.” Vanessa puts her head in her hands, hoping in vain that the floor will swallow her up and never spit her back out.

The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly, shakily–Vanessa can hardly focus, the moment of her embarrassment replaying over and over in her head without reprieve, interrupting any task she tries to take on. Every time she tries to open a new document, her eyes fall down to her desk and onto the manuscript Brooke left her. And every time she tries to open an email, Brooke’s name appears at the top of her alphabetically-organized contact list.

It’s only when Vanessa finally gets ready to leave for the evening that Brooke fades from her mind, the space that the blonde occupied instead taken over by a list of all the snacks she’s going to eat and the reality TV shows she’ll binge when she gets home. She waves good-bye to Asia and Kameron, about to shut off her computer and get going, when suddenly–

EMAIL FROM: Brooke Lynn Hytes

RE: convo from today

Hi Vanessa,

Meet me in my office in half an hour… I want to talk to you about what you said today.

Vanessa’s head spins, her heart stopping dead in her chest and body going cold.

Oh God. Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. She’s going to be fired, she knows it–she’ll walk into Brooke’s office, HR will be sitting there to mediate, and she’ll be sent packing before she has a chance to contest the disciplinary action.

Vanessa’s about to write back, beg for forgiveness, or at least some other kind of recourse, when a second email comes through.

EMAIL FROM: Brooke Lynn Hytes

RE: Convo from today - oops

Hi Vanessa,

Just realized that makes it sound like im gonna fire you or something. Lol. Sorry about that. Can you just come by now? Easier to talk in person.

Sorry again.

XOXO,

Brooke Lynn Hytes

Vanessa can’t help but laugh a little to herself when she reads the text, her heart starting back up again and nerves dissipating a little. God, the fucking dork–maybe things will work out after all.

Maybe.

Probably not the way that Vanessa’s hoping for, though.

She scurries across the floor towards Brooke’s office, not bothering to return the waves and cheerful good nights! from coworkers as she passes. There’s only one thing on her mind at the moment–Brooke Lynn Hytes and her ass, and whatever she’s going to say to her.

Okay, three things, but it doesn’t matter. Because she’s outside Brooke’s office, and the door is open for her to walk through, and–

And Brooke is sitting at her desk, blushing and shifting nervously in her chair, gesturing for Vanessa to close the door.

“Brooke, I wanna say again, I’m—“

But Brooke cuts Vanessa off with a shake of her head and a kind smile.

“Did you—did you mean what you said?” Brooke stands up and walks towards Vanessa cautiously, slowly, her smile still gentle and gaze unwavering. “About wanting to rim me?”

Vanessa swallows hard, her heart pounding and mind racing. Brooke is close now, so close that if she reaches out, she could touch Vanessa, box her in against the door, do whatever she pleases with her—

“Yeah.” Vanessa admits breathlessly. Yeah I did.”

“Oh, thank God.” Brooke sighs, her shoulders relaxing and face smoothing out in relief. “I was afraid you were joking, and—“

But Brooke never gets a chance to finish that sentence, because before Vanessa can think about it, before she has a chance to stop herself, she’s leaning up and cupping Brooke’s face and pressing her lips to hers.

The kiss is electric, breathless and passionate enough to make Vanessa feel as if she’s floating, swept off her feet by Brooke’s lips, her sighs of pleasure when Vanessa tugs lightly on her bottom lip with her teeth. Brooke is gripping her tightly by the waist, pulling her flush against her body, and Vanessa is dizzy, held up only by the will to keep contact with the woman in front of her, entwined with her. She feels along Brooke’s back, down each curve and over every muscle, until finally, her hands sweep over the one thing she’s been drooling over for what seems like far too long.

Brooke moans, like really moans, when Vanessa’s hands reach her ass, and God, Vanessa would do anything to hear that sound again. She feels along the curve of Brooke’s ass, squeezing and kneading and listening for every little reaction, every repeated moan and little gasp.

“Keep–Oh, fuck, Vanessa, keep doing that.” Brooke separates from Vanessa, her eyes hooded and cheeks flushed, voice breathy with effort.

“Ain’t gotta tell me twice.” Vanessa giggles, and Brooke does too, pulling Vanessa even closer, and sticking her ass out a little and before grinding back into Vanessa’s hand to meet her movements.

“This might sound weird,” Vanessa starts to propose, before she can second-guess it, “But can I…” she trails off, her hands suddenly freezing.

How in the hell is Vanessa supposed to ask a woman she’s barely worked with, who she barely even knows , realistically, to let her spank her?

“Can you what?” Brooke repeats, and Vanessa realizes with a sudden rush of embarrassment and doubt that she’s already gone too far to turn back.

“Can I spank you?”

Vanessa pulls away, expecting Brooke to look at her strangely, to balk at the suggestion. Ask her what’s wrong with her, or why she’d want that.

Instead, she giggles.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?” Brooke teases, and Vanessa blushes.

“I had to ask!” Vanessa gives Brooke a playful tap on her ass, rolling her eyes. “You telling me you’d rather I just popped your ass right then and there without no warning?”

Only, the way Brooke looks back at Vanessa in that second tells her pretty much exactly what she needs to know to answer that question.

“I think we oughta pick this up later.” Vanessa’s voice drops to almost a whisper, her hands clutching tighter at Brooke’s ass and stomach practically flip-flopping with glee and arousal when Brooke goes rigid, leans into Vanessa’s touch again. “Somewhere we can be private, so I can make that cute little ass nice and red.”

“I like the sound of that.” Brooke nods, and Vanessa answers by spanking her lightly again, grinning when Brooke lets out a soft, surprised oh!

“I gotta go home and feed my dog, but how ‘bout I’m over at eight?” Vanessa proposes.

“Sounds good.” Brooke smiles. “I can’t wait.”

“Me neither.”

Vanessa leans up and gives Brooke another quick kiss before turning on her heels, sauntering towards the door with a little extra swing in her step just to tempt the woman watching her walk away.

“Oh, and Brooke?” Vanessa turns around at the last second, only to see Brooke snap to attentively.

“Yeah?”

“Make sure you nice and prepped for me when I come. And whatever you do, don’t touch yourself before.”

Vanessa doesn’t wait for Brooke’s answer; she doesn’t need to.

She already knows that Brooke’s in the palm of her hand, and now she’s got to get home and get in the shower.

–

Vanessa knocks on Brooke’s door at 7:59 PM. Almost instantly, the door swings open and Vanessa feels her breath get knocked out of her body.

Brooke is a vision in satin and lace, dressed in a plain top with lace trim and a shiny, thin skirt that barely covers her ass, if it wasn’t for the identical lace trim that brings Vanessa’s eyes trailing downward to Brooke’s thighs, pale and toned and begging for Vanessa to grab them.

“You look beautiful.” It’s all Vanessa can think to say, but if the way Brooke’s eyes sparkle and her cheeks flush is any indication, it’s the right thing.

“I, um—Thanks.” Brooke brushes a piece of hair behind her ear, blushing deeper when Vanessa laughs fondly at the gesture. “Um, d’you wanna come in?”

“Absolutely.” Vanessa is already walking past Brooke when she stops to reach up and give the blonde a peck on her cheek.

“By the way,” Vanessa whispers, grasping at Brooke’s shirt with firm, eager fingers, “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

The gasp that Brooke lets out as she shivers at the words is in itself enough to switch any thinking part of Vanessa’s brain off, her body moving on adrenaline and instinct as she practically drags Brooke towards the bedroom.

This time when they kiss, it’s slow, less frantic, less desperate. They take their time, exploring each other as they embrace, Brooke’s hands tracing Vanessa’s body slowly and carefully in a way that leaves goosebumps in their wake.

It’s only when Brooke lays her hands on Vanessa’s ass that a sharp arousal shoots between Vanessa’s legs, and enough is enough.

“Get on the bed.” Vanessa grabs Brooke’s arms and pushes them off of her body, holding firm despite how Brooke tries to bring her hands back onto Vanessa, tries again to grab and feel her. Seeing how her efforts are futile, Brooke whines, tries to lean down to distract Vanessa with another kiss, but Vanessa won’t have it; not now, when her heart is in her throat and she can feel herself getting wetter by the second.

“No, baby.” Vanessa grabs Brooke’s ass and squeezes hard, using the single moment when Brooke is caught off-guard to walk them backwards until Brooke’s knees are hitting against the edge of her bed. “I said get on the bed, now .”

Brooke whines stubbornly but obeys, grabbing onto Vanessa’s shirt and pulling her down on top of her as she goes.

“Eager beaver.” Vanessa rolls her eyes as she picks herself up, kneeling over Brooke to box her in with a knee on either side of her hips, a hand on either side of her head.

Brooke only sticks out her tongue, and Vanessa can’t resist leaning down to kiss her again, nipping at her bottom lip and smirking at the soft, surprised squeak that she lets out in response. Vanessa keeps going, kissing along Brooke’s jaw, down her neck, nibbling and licking and sucking experimentally as she pays attention to what makes Brooke tick.

It’s adorable how responsive Brooke is, how quickly her bratty demeanor fades when Vanessa pins once-again wandering hands down onto the mattress and sucks hard at her collarbone. How she moans and gasps and squirms like she’s being touched for the first time in years, an appetite whet after laying dormant for just a little too long.

“Lift up for me.” Vanessa prompts, tapping Brooke on the side, and Brooke sits up long enough for Vanessa to pull her shirt over her head, revealing the smooth, soft skin underneath.

“Really?” Vanessa smirks, tracing her hand over Brooke’s bare breasts, her nipples already hardened against the room’s cold air.

“Why wait?” Brooke shrugs, “We would’ve taken it off anyway.”

“So does that mean you’re not wearing panties, either?” Vanessa lazily traces over Brooke’s tits, circling and flicking her nipples as she lets her eyes trail down to the waistband of her skirt and the promise that it holds underneath it.

“Why don’t you check?” Brooke’s voice is laced with challenge, her face almost smug as she stares up at Vanessa, waiting for her to make good on the offer.

And so Vanessa does, and doesn’t regret it.

Brooke’s wearing panties, alright—ones that are white, made of thin fabric that Vanessa can practically see through and trimmed with lace on the waistband and leg holes. It’s tantalizing, how pure they look, how they contrast with Brooke’s mussed hair and hickey-bruised skin, and Vanessa almost wishes Brooke could keep them on.

“Like what you see?” Brooke grins, and Vanessa has to hand it to her—the bitch knows what she’s doing, she really does.

Fortunately, so does Vanessa, and so she knows exactly how to handle the situation.

“Fuck yeah, I do.” Vanessa breathes, kissing the nape of Brooke’s neck again, barely-there pecks that make Brooke squirm underneath her.

Excellent.

“Now how about you show me the view from the back, baby girl?” She lifts off of Brooke just long enough to trace a finger along the waistband of Brooke’s panties, watching with satisfaction as Brooke shivers at her touch.

“Yes, mommy.” Brooke gasps as Vanessa moves to cup her through her panties, pressing down just a little so she can feel Brooke’s slick soaking through them.

“Mommy kink too?” Vanessa can’t resist teasing a little as she finally brings her hand away, shuffling back to give Brooke room to reposition herself. “Damn, Miss Hytes, you a freak.”

Brooke blushes deeply. “I—I’m sorry, it just kind of slipped out, usually I talk to people before I do that—“

Vanessa swallows the rest of Brooke’s ramblings into a deep, affectionate kiss, one that makes Brooke soften enough that Vanessa can ease her back onto the bed again.

“Don’t worry about it, kitten.” Vanessa winks, her heart warming when Brooke beams. “Now, turn over for mommy, I wanna play with that pretty little ass already.”

Brooke flips over happy, eagerly lifting her ass off the mattress just a little and wiggling it in excitement.

It’s too hard to resist; Vanessa brings a hand down over one of Brooke’s cheeks, just hard enough to elicit a small squeak from the woman in front of her.

“What?” Vanessa cocks a brow when Brooke looks back and pouts at her. “You tellin’ me you really ain’t expect that, tryna tempt me like that?” As if to make her point, she lands another smack on Brooke’s opposite cheek, and Brooke melts, letting out a sharp exhale and wiggling a little again when Vanessa pulls back, almost as if she’s trying to ask for more.

“Uh-uhn, baby.” Vanessa shakes her head, crossing her arms in front of her. “You gotta use your words this time, or mommy’s not gonna do nothing to you.”

“Please, mommy.” Brooke whimpers in response, eyes wide and pleading. “Spank me more, please?”

“Of course, angel.” Vanessa coos, a calm sweetness before the storm she knows she’s about to unleash.

The next time Brooke squirms, Vanessa lets her spankings rain down, a flurry of impacts that make Brooke’s ass glow with a mesmerizing shade of red. Brooke, for her part, seemed to only take every slap in stride, moaning sinfully and begging for more, more, more.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” Vanessa chuckles when she feels the sting of her hits even on her own palm, instead beginning rub soft, soothing circles along the now-heated skin of Brooke’s ass. “Now what do you say?”

“Thank you, mommy.” Brooke sighs contentedly, melting into Vanessa’s gentle touch.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

They stay like that for a few moments more, quietly enjoying each other, but then Vanessa’s own needs become too much to ignore–arousal is curling in her stomach, snaking between her legs, building up again until she feels like she might explode. She’s about to ask if Brooke is okay, suggest moving things along again, when Brooke speaks up suddenly, beating her to it.

“So… You gonna take my panties off now?” Brooke grins slyly, and Vanessa can’t help but laugh.

“So impatient.” Vanessa teases, but nonetheless moves back near Brooke, tapping her hip to signal her to lift up so that she can ease down her panties, noting with satisfaction the slick, soaked spot that sticks just a moment longer to Brooke than the rest of the fabric, just a little slow in being peeled away.

“Beautiful.” Vanessa breathes it out without thinking, the word rolling off her tongue because it can’t stay in, not with Brooke looking like that, laying bare for her like that. Vulnerable and delicate, all hers to enjoy, if only for the night (but God, what a night). At that moment, nothing else is in Vanessa’s mind except the curve of Brooke’s back and the way her hair splays across it, the flush of her cheeks and how they match the shade of her ass. Her smile, eager and warm and already a little blissed, like she knows she’s safe when she’s with Vanessa.

“You want my mouth or my fingers, or you got a strap?” Vanessa whispers, and God, Brooke’s eyes have never looked as beautiful as they have in that moment, when they look up at Vanessa and sparkle, her pupils wide and lids hooded.

“Mouth please, mommy.”

Brooke doesn’t need to ask twice. Vanessa kisses her way down Brooke’s body again, this time slowly, not teasingly but instead with devotion, her lips carrying admiration for every inch of skin they land on. Apparently, the message gets across, because Brooke seems to relax more with every kiss, her body melting into the mattress, sighing softly every time Vanessa’s mouth touches her skin.

“You ready, angel?” Vanessa pushes Brooke’s cheeks together, kneading them gently while she checks in, and Brooke nods.

“Please, mommy.” Brooke begs quietly, and Vanessa smiles, leaving one last kiss on the peak of Brooke’s tailbone before finally spreading her cheeks apart. She takes her time, licking around Brooke’s hole with short strokes, just the tip of her tongue, to find out what makes Brooke tick. She finds quickly that Brooke likes when Vanessa licks closer to Brooke’s entrance, honing in on one spot temporarily just to put her on edge. She shifts her position, brushes against Brooke’s perineum with the tips of her fingers, and Brooke goes rigid, lets out a sinful moan.

“Please, oh fuck, please, Ness, keep doing that.” Brooke trembles as Vanessa repeats the motion, timing it with a broad stroke of her tongue up Brooke’s crack. So she does, over and over, alternating with swirls around Brooke’s holes and little short darts into it, until Brooke is babbling and whimpering, a moaning mess underneath her that just can’t stay still.

“Come on, baby girl, come for me, I know you can do it.” Vanessa growls, continuing her ministrations. “Let me see you come for mommy, wanna see you lookin’ so pretty and fucked out for me…”

It’s as if the words are exactly what Brooke needed to tip her over the edge; without so much as a moment passing after the words leave Vanessa’s lips, Brooke goes rigid again, her cries cut off into a silent scream that ends with a final fuck before she relaxes again, panting and spent.

“Shit.” Brooke laughs breathlessly as Vanessa comes up from her place at the foot of the bed to snuggle at Brooke’s side, nestling into her arms. “That was amazing , Ness. Thank you.”

“No problem, baby.” Vanessa feels pride balloon in her chest at the words, but even that is secondary to the feeling of seeing Brooke’s smile, the renewed energy in her eyes even as she lays limp and sated, holding onto Vanessa like some sort of teddy bear.

It’s all she’s wanted, really–all she’s been after. Not just Brooke’s ass, or her body, or the way she walks and steals looks at Vanessa at the office.

Just for Brooke to look at her, really look at her. Smile at her. Thank her for something that isn’t work-related. See her not as Vanessa Mateo from distribution, but as Vanessa herself, as Vanessa wants her to see her.

“Vanessa?” Brooke pipes up again, snapping Vanessa out of her contented daze.

“Hm?”

“I asked if you wanted me to return the favour.” Brooke doesn’t seem to mind Vanessa’s temporary absence; if anything, she seems entertained by it, the shadow of a smile on her face.

But as kind as the offer is, Vanessa just shakes her head. “Nah, baby, I’m good for now. Unless…” she stops, biting her lip as her heart kicks up a bit, squeezing its way into her throat as she contemplates her next move.

It’s a risk–Brooke might very well say no, might very well want to keep their relationship to what it currently is.

But if how they’ve wound up here together is any indication, then it’s worth a shot.

“Unless?” Brooke prompts, and Vanessa takes a deep breath, shoving any doubt out of her mind.

“Maybe you could take me out for a date, and we could see what happens?”

Much to Vanessa’s relief, Brooke doesn’t even skip a beat when she answers, a wide grin spreading across her face.

“I would love nothing more.”

[isitgintimeyet]

Letting Go

AO3

Previous

So it’s Sunday morning here and that means another chapter.  Thanks for reading x

thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta and @happytoobservenolongerdistant

Chapter 7: Crush

It's just a little crush (crush) Not like I faint every time we touch It's just some little thing (crush) Not like everything I do depends on you

Andy Goldmark/ Mark Mueller/  Berny Cosgrove/ Kevin Clark 

Even before she opened her eyes, Claire sensed the body lying next to her. Hazy recollections of the night before came back to her… Jamie's coolness, meeting Frank, the overheard conversation and the final realisation that eight years may have disguised her emotions but time had done nothing to erase them.

And then, thankfully she remembered as she turned over to greet the bed's other occupant, Joe had found her, weeping in her flat. Tenderly he had held her as she cried and then supervised her bedtime routine, making sure she cleaned her teeth and removed her makeup before grabbing a blanket from the spare bedroom and lying next to her on top of the covers, listening to her confessions before, exhausted, she fell asleep.

Opening her very sore eyes, she saw Joe, apparently still asleep, breathing softly, next to her. Claire started to get up, but Joe caught her arm, keeping her on the bed.

“How are you this morning?”

“Not too bad. My eyes are sore and I desperately need a shower and a mug of coffee, but no hangover… yet”

“Claire, you know what I mean. All that you said last night. How do you feel emotionally?”

“Much better, yes. Think last night was cathartic.”

Joe looked at Claire and scowled. “The truth, Claire. Don’t be hiding it away. It’s taken you eight years to get this far.”

Claire sighed. “Ok, Joe. Truth… truth is, I think I held myself back from relationships, from letting go, because I thought… hoped… dreamed that he’d come back. He’d come home and find me. And now he has, he's come home and made it perfectly clear it’s not for me. Living here, I’ll have to see him sometimes, but I’m not going to live in a dream world. I’ll get past this. Honest.”

Joe raised her hand to his lips. “I know you will. And I’m here for you. Now you go and make us two incredibly strong coffees, while I hop in your shower.”

With a dehydration headache looming, brought on, no doubt, by a surfeit of both alcohol and tears, Claire stood at the kitchen sink and drank two large glasses of water while she waited for the kettle to boil.

A knock at the door broke her concentration. She wrapped her bathrobe tightly around her and went to answer it, pausing in front of the hall mirror. It was as bad as expected -- red rimmed eyes, pale cheeks and a mass of tangled curls were reflected back at her and she just knew that she probably smelt as bad as she looked.

*******

Nine years ago

“Oh god, I must look hideous. I’m never at my sunniest first thing in the morning.”

“Sassenach, all I can see is a woman who, weel, lets jes’ say, made a man verra happy last night. A wee bit of mascara’s stuck tae yer cheek and yer curls have a mind of their own but ye look beautiful.”

“I can tell how happy by your grin, Jamie… and that’s not the only part of you that seems happy this morning. Ooh, Jamie… ooh, yes… what are you doing?”

“Lie back, Sassenach, dinna move. Fair’s fair. I’m goin’ tae put a grin on yer face as well.”

*******

Claire peered through the spy hole to see John standing on the doormat. She opened the door and stood back to let him in. Fortunately, he looked as rough as Claire.

“Morn...” John cleared his throat and tried again. “Morning.”

“How are you this morning?”

His voice had a throaty rasp. He coughed and carried on. “I can’t say I’m feeling my best. I’ve been awake since six. Jamie crashed at mine last night and had to leave to go back to work… something to do with a new foal or a mare… well, something horsey, anyway. And he couldn’t find the key to the front door, so we had to spend ages looking for it and… well… here we are. I think you look like I feel, Claire.”

Claire led him into the living room. “It was certainly quite a night. Wonder if I should go and give Anna and Mary a hand cleaning up?”

“I wouldn’t bother. They’ll still be asleep. Besides, Anna has an agreement with a couple of the cleaners from the theatre. They come and sort the flat out, cash in hand. No problem. This is a regular occurrence. Bet the estate agent didn’t tell you that -- happens whenever Mrs. Crook goes off to visit her daughter in Edinburgh.”

John sat next to Claire and continued. “That’s not why I’ve come. I need to ask if you’re ok with something…”

With years of practice, Claire heart automatically leapt a little bit.

“I know you were talking to Frank last night. Frank Randall? Yes?”

The leaping in Claire’s chest stopped. She nodded in agreement.

“He’s asked me for your phone number. I didn’t want to give it to him without asking you first. Is that ok? He seems like a decent chap.”

Time to move on, she thought to herself, have to start somewhere. “Yes, why not?”

*******

Joe waited until John had left before he made an appearance, now smelling delightfully of Claire’s L’Occitane Citrus verbena shower gel.

“I decided not to disturb yours and John’s tête-à-tête. I plan on being introduced to him when I’m feeling less hungover and he’s not looking so rough. What did he want, Claire?”

Claire passed a mug of coffee to Joe and nibbled on a piece of dry toast. “That chap, Frank, I was talking to him last night, asked John for my number. John wanted to check it was ok to give it to him.”

“And what did you say?” Joe took the toast from Claire’s hand and consumed it in two bites.

“I’ll go and make some more toast.” Claire headed into the kitchen with Joe following.

“Well,” Claire continued. “I said he could give him my number. Frank seemed like a nice chap and following on from our discussion last night, I need to start moving on. Maybe this is… what is it… karma… no, not karma… synchronicity. Perhaps it’s synchronicity.”

***************

The coffee shop was, Claire decided as she looked around, an ideal place for a first date. Intimate enough to be able to hold a conversation yet without being forced to share too much personal space. Quiet enough to be able to hear each other clearly yet without a sterile silence around them. Bright enough to be able to see each other’s facial expression yet without losing a cosy ambience.  Good call, Frank, perfect first date.

************

Nine years ago

“I’m sorry, Claire, I didna think it would be sae crowded in here at this time.”

“What did you say? I can’t hear you too well.”

“It’s no’ usually sae busy here. Seems like there’s a couple of stag parties goin’ on.”

“Oops. I didn’t mean to lean against you like that, Jamie. People keep pushing past me.”

“Lean on me all ye want... This first date isna goin’ verra well... I shouldna have brought ye here. I’m sorry.”

“Jamie, will you stop apologising? I think this date is perfect.”

“Me too, Sassenach, me too.”

********

The waitress brought over Claire’s black coffee and Frank’s tea. Claire watched Frank’s hands as he stirred the tea pot: long, elegant fingers delicately held the spoon, the skin smooth and pale. Totally unlike those rough, calloused hands she remembered so well, tanned from all the hours spent working outside. Stop it, Claire forced her mind away from those thoughts and back to listening to the man in front of her.

Frank waited expectantly, obviously having just asked her a question.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Claire blushed.

“I was just asking what it was like growing up with your uncle. Did you travel around a lot?”

“Oh, yes. Every school holiday it seemed we were heading off somewhere.”

“What sort of places did you visit?”

“Varies. Mainly Turkey, but Bulgaria, Ukraine, Georgia.”

“All around the Black Sea then?”

Claire smiled as the memories of those trips came flooding back. “Yes, sometimes  staying in little B&Bs or tiny hotels but quite a lot of camping, especially when a team went over. I can still see Lamb pouring over his copious notes by the light of a single lamp, while I tried to fry sausages on a one-ring gas burner. It was great fun. How about you? You do much travelling in your research?”

“Just to libraries or archives, I’m afraid. Nothing very exciting.” Frank shrugged.

“But if you’re writing a book, that’s exciting, isn’t it? I mean, my uncle’s never written a book.”

“Well, yes. I suppose it is. I need to have some outline to John next month, then it may happen. Do you want another coffee?” Frank drained his teacup and looked expectantly at Claire. “Or would you like to go for a bite to eat?”

Claire looked at her watch. “I’m sorry, Frank. I can’t. I have to nip home and then I promised I’d visit Uncle Lamb.”

“Oh well, another time? But you don’t live far from here. Let me walk you home.”

Claire nodded. Frank’s hand rested lightly on her back as he guided her out of the coffee shop. They walked side by side along the pavement towards Claire’s flat, Frank’s hand brushing against hers with each stride. A few paces later, and instead of the slight touch, Claire felt Frank’s hand clasp hers, cool and dry against her palm. She let it rest there and tried to force her mind away from any comparisons.

As they approached her flat, the sky darkened with the promise of imminent raindrops. They stood awkwardly at the front door, Frank still holding her hand.

“So, I had a really good time, Claire. I would like to see you again, if you want to.”

Claire smiled, then jumped as a loud crack of thunder was rapidly followed by a sudden downpour. Quickly she fumbled in her bag for her keys, then opened the door. Frank followed her into the foyer.

“So?” He spun her round to face him. “Another date?”

Claire nodded. “Yes, Frank, I’d like that. Text me and we can arrange something.”

They stood still for a moment before Frank took a step towards Claire and lightly kissed her mouth. His lips were soft and cool, his mouth practically level with hers, no need to crane her neck or stand on tiptoe to reach. She waited for a moment in anticipation of those long forgotten feelings… the butterflies, the tingling, then took a step towards the stairs.

“I’d better go. Uncle Lamb will be waiting for me. Thanks for coffee.”

***************

Jamie waited until they had disappeared from view, Claire to her flat and Frank back out into the rain, before he emerged from John’s front door. He hadn’t want to intrude on their moment. Although he had noticed, casually through the spy hole, that Claire hadn’t leant into the kiss... hadn’t seemed inclined to prolong it… hadn’t moved her hands from her sides. Not that it mattered to him, of course. It really wasn’t his business.

******

Nine years ago

“I’m sorry the pub wasna a good idea fer a first date.”

“Jamie, don’t be sorry. It’s far too nice an evening to spend in a crowded bar anyway. What could be better than this, walking in a park, sharing a bag of chips?”

“And Irn-bru… dinna forget the Irn-bru.”

“Well, I must admit, I don’t actually like that stuff. You can have the whole bottle.”

“Come here, Sassenach. Ye’ve got a wee bit of ketchup on the corner of yer mouth. Let me get it off…”

“Ha. I thought you were going to wipe it off with a serviette.”

“Och, no need fer that. Waste of a serviette.”

“Jamie, I think I’ve got something here on the other side… and a bit here… and here… mmm…”

“Ye must be an awfa messy eater, Sassenach. So many kisses needed.”

“Sorry, is that too many for you to handle?”

“I dinna think it will ever be too many fer me, Sassenach.”

[a-place-for-me-au]

A PLACE FOR ME : CHAPTER 1

Summary: September 2nd, 2019. First day of freshman year.

Trigger Warnings: Cursing, homophobic slur (as joke), bullying (mentioned), homophobia (mentioned), depression, deadnaming, violence, food

Characters: Deceit, Roman, Remus, Patton, Virgil, Logan, Remy

(mentioned) Corbin, Sloane

Words: 5770

AO3

CHAPTER 1 |

Notes: Big thanks to @missfay49 for being an amazing beta reader!

VIRGIL

Monday. The air was crisp, the leaves had started to turn, but still the grass was fresh and green. I set my eyes to the ground, but I still felt the heat of bodies moving around me. My eyes flitted across the faces of people I may have known years ago. My eyes returned to the ground and I saw the grass. Most of it was bright and green, but soon I found underwatered patches. The dew however, made the bright grass brighter. As I glanced back up, my heart was beating a little fast, I guess. Last time I was in school, I got beat up, and nearly sent to the hospital. Maybe now it would be a little different. I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets and walked into the cold, uninviting school.

PATTON

September 2nd. The leaves were golden and the air was shiny and bright, with cold light making the colors morph into something else. The trees loomed overhead. It wasn’t quite cold enough for the sweater I was wearing, but the heavy, knitted sweater kept me safe and held. I had never been to school, and I didn’t know what to expect. I’ve seen a handful of movies about high school, but, to be honest, I never cared much about movies. The looming building seemed tall and intimidating in front of me. The people all seemed tall and intimidating. I stared at the ground and imagined that instead of hoards of hormonal teenagers, I was surrounded by animals of the forest. Deer, rabbits, frogs, birds...

DEE

The second of September, the first day of school. It was just another day, and yet, the gold in the leaves was all the more noticeable. A chilly breeze grazed my skin, and I put up a hand to the burned half of my face. I didn’t care about it, and no one else did, and yet, the idea someone might find it wrong never left my head. I stared up at the grey building, framed by a grey morning sky.

ROMAN

Monday, on the second of September, in the year 2019. The tall sweeping trees, dotted with browns and vivid oranges swayed in the light fall breeze. The green of the grass, while not as vibrant as in the intense summer months, was still vivid, especially when juxtaposed against the cold cement surrounding the school. The school, a grey, uninviting building with bars on the doors, felt grand and mysterious. The grey bricks made me think of great castles of villains. I sighed. I took a glance at my brother Remus, but quickly looked down at the ground. I’d barely slept last night. I’d finally gone to sleep at the foot of my brother’s bed somewhere around five in the morning, my face wet from tears. It had been a tough week so far, but at this moment, I felt nothing.

REMUS

It was Monday, September 2nd. The trees twisted over the concrete, and I gazed up at their colorful leaves that had just started to change. The grass was still bright and colorful, and full of vibrancy. Feelings dashed through the air like leaves falling from trees. I could feel excitement, fear, worry, boredom and dozens more emotions flitting through students minds. I could feel my brother Roman beside me. The school loomed over, highlighted against the bright grey sky. I imagined spikes coming from the top of the grey prison and skipped forward, putting a bright smile on my face. Time to make some impressions!

LOGAN

Mon. 02/09/2019. The trees lining the concrete pathway to the school were starting to turn brown. Some leaves had already fallen. However, the grass was still green. The school was simple and plain. It was blank and gray, with grates over the windows. A feeling of anticipation was welling up in my chest, and while I hesitated to call it excitement, the idea of learning new things was...inviting.

VIRGIL

I took a deep breath. It’s this or get dead named in front of your entire class. 

“Excuse me, is this 204? Mr. Johnson’s room?” I asked, hanging off the doorframe. A tall man with dark, wrinkled skin and a bright, grey beard looked at me and beckoned me to his desk. 

“I am Mr. Johnson. What can I help you with? Class doesn’t start for another twenty minutes.” His face had a quizzical expression, and he placed his head on his fist.

I pushed my hands deep into my pockets, reaching for some security. “Um, see...well, it’s about… my, um, like my name.” I took a deep breath. I could feel my hands shaking. Would you really rather be doing this in front of the entire class? “My name is Virgil.” I blurted. 

He gave me a strange look, then pulled out his roster sheet. “Um, let me see if you’re on here…”

“I’m not.” I swallowed. “I came because,” My head felt light. “My name is, um, Virgil Ancell.” I took a deep breath.

In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. 

“My legal name is, um,” It had been a while since I’d used it. “Amelia.” I said quietly.

“Well! Nice to meet you Virgil, I’ll be sure to make note of that, I wouldn’t want to use the wrong name for someone.” I smiled, I was still shaking, but I felt more grounded.

Now I just have to do that six more times.

I took a seat near the front and laid back, pulling a fidget cube out and fiddling with it. Mr. Johnson continued working on something. “Hey kid, Virgil.” I look up. “Do you think you could put a syllabus on each desk? There’s, one sec, uh, 27 students, so…” He counted out several sheets of paper. I placed my cube in my pocket and walked to the desk. He handed me the papers. “Just, yeah, put them on the desks, thanks kid.” I smiled, and did as asked.

Some time passed, after I’d put syllabi on all the desks, and kids started to filter in. I pulled my hood over my head and looked down. Mr. Johnson shot me a look. “No hoods.” He said, looking at me. I took it off, and immediately regretted it. I could feel the stares, I swore.

I heard people talking under their breath.

“Who’s the new kid?”

“I don’t know, but he seems emo as hell.”

“Seriously though, we haven’t had a new student in years, do you think they moved here?”

I sunk into my seat and gazed lazily at the door when a short, round person walked in the room. They held their head low, keeping their eyes on the ground. They had short, curly, golden hair, and large, round glasses. Their cheeks were rosy and covered in freckles. They were wearing a white tank top and a knee-length blue skirt. 

Heads turned. They shone like the sun, their footsteps soft, eyes sparkling. Just seeing them was like breathing in a bouquet of sweet-smelling roses. The room got physically brighter as they sat in the front row, right in front of me. Their presence was like an angel come to sit on Earth.

Suddenly, a tall guy with dark hair and sunglasses sat on the desk next to me. He was wearing a white shirt, a leather jacket, and some short jean-shorts.

“Hey.” He said, a nonchalant look on his face.

I looked down. I was scared. No way around it. I was in a new environment, and I was scared. “Hi.” I said meekly.

“I don’t know you. What’s your name? And you too, pretty boy.” He looked at the soft boy in a skirt. The boy looked at him, and then at me.

“I’m… Virgil.” He gave me a look like he’d seen a ghost.

“Oop. Welp, what’s up, kid. Name’s Remy. You might remember me.”

Remy.

My heart beat fast. Looking now, I recognized him. Those eyes, the eyes that stared me down every day of my life. That voice that would tease and ridicule me. Memories of being called a dyke, a faggot, of my head being dunked in the toilet of the boy’s bathroom. 

‘Go back to the girl’s room, Amelia. Amelia. You were such a pretty girl.’

“I should let you know I’ve changed a lot.” He was awkwardly rubbing his neck. “After you left, I got put in my place.” There was a moment. I didn’t know what to say--I couldn’t say anything.

“Well hon, “ he said, breaking the silence, “That’s too much to unpack.” He took a deep breath and turned to the boy at the front.

“Now you, pretty boy.”

I looked down. This was… Remy? But he was so… awful. I looked at him, refusing to believe someone could change like that. But maybe. Maybe they can.

I moved my seat a few inches away from him.

PATTON

The first few minutes went great! People are already starting to talk to me! I think they’re being genuine. I don’t know.

The boy… Remy. I didn’t know what to do. Should I tell him my name? Why is he calling me pretty boy? Is that normal? I was confused.

“You there, kid?” He waved his hand in front of my face. “I’ve never seen you before.” 

“I’m… Patton.” I said shyly. He reached out his hand to shake mine, but then the bell rang, and class started.

Class passed by quickly. I wasn’t sure of everything, I’d never been to public school, but it was somehow a lot easier than I expected. 

Finding the rooms wasn’t that difficult. There were five floors, and the room number corresponded to the floor. 501, for example, was in the northeast of the fifth floor.

That didn’t make switching classes any easier. I was tossed around like a bouncing ball at the beach by the waves of students making their way to each class. In the forest, everything is calm and peaceful. There’s more than enough space for everyone. In the hallways between classes? It’s a thundering storm, paired with a flood.

The day went on uneventfully. Mostly, teachers were giving out syllabi and setting rules. We got a bit of homework for English, but that was just to check on all of our reading levels.

English had been quite nice actually. The teacher, Ms. Green, passed out the syllabi for the class, as well as a few pages of a story. It was just a simple exercise, to see how long it took us as a class to get a reading activity. It was an excerpt from one of my favorite books: The Secret Garden. I’d read it a thousand times over. Well, I’d read a lot of books a thousand times over.

I was walking through the halls towards the cafeteria, reflecting on the day when I was suddenly I was thrown from my thoughts when I found myself tripping and falling into someone. I could feel their hands grip my arms, and they pulled me up. I looked up into deep, dark brown eyes. He had reddish brown hair and a cocky smile. 

Well I knew I wasn’t straight, but in the name of all that is good, gosh darn it. Am. I. Gay.

I could feel my face getting red. It’s my first day and I’ve already tripped and fallen right into the arms of a frickin’ prince.

I tried to right myself, and force out an apology. “My goodn--oh my--geez--I am--so sorry. Are, I, uh, hurt? Are you, um, hurt did I--”

“It’s cool.” He gave me a smile like the goddamn sun was shining in my face. 

“I’m am so I am sorry.”

He chuckled, then he looked at me closer. “You’re new. Did you just move to Marshfield?”

“I was-- um, homeschooled. I’ve always lived here, well, near, I technically don’t live in the, uh city, I--uh--town limits. I live just outside. Near the, uh the forest. I live, um, across the river.” I realized I had been staring a hole into his face and I quickly looked down, blushing. I noticed he was wearing a white and red letterman jacket and jeans.

“Then I can see why you’re so nervous. I shouldn’t keep you waiting for your next class.”

“I um, it’s cool, I, uh, it’s my lunch.”

“Oh yeah?” He said.

I smiled, trying to seem a little stable. He was tall. Really tall. At least a head taller than me. “Hey, want to come join my and my table? To be honest I don’t know if there will be a seat but, if there is, you can chill with us.”

Should I accept this? Will I be rude if I don’t? Is there some sort of unspoken conversation going on?

“Well, I, um I wouldn’t want to,” I paused. “Impose on your, uh, friend group.” Will this work? 

“It’s cool, I’ll just see if there’s any extra seats?” The guy said. I nodded, I mean, I didn’t know how else to respond.

“By the way, what’s your name?” He said, walking towards the cafeteria.

“Patton.” I said shyly. 

“Alright, come on Patton, I’m Roman.” As Roman walked, another boy came out of the crowd. He had the same face as Roman, but he was thin. He had a light mustache and heavy eye bags. However, probably the most noticeable thing about him was his bright green, embroidered, floral patterned shirt with ruffles on his shoulders. 

“I’m Remus, the sexiest man you’ll ever meet.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Roman turned around to playfully slap him. He turned back to me. 

“He’s my twin.”

When we got to the cafeteria, I could see the tables were small, and could each fit eight people. I followed him to a table near the back of the room where someone was waving. Once we got closer, I saw it was Remy, from my first period. 

“Hey, pretty boy.” Said Remy with a wink.

“Shut up Remy, he’s new. Besides, you wouldn’t want Dee to hear you.” Roman said.

“Someone say my name?” A tall kid turned towards Roman. A scar, which seemed like an old burn, covered half his face, and stretched down his neck. He was wearing a black button down shirt, and, to my surprise, a black cape that went halfway down his back, trimmed with yellow. He also wore a black bowler.

“Yo, Ro, I don’t think we have enough seats, ‘cause I’m pretty sure Corbin has this lunch period too.” Said Remus as he looked around the table.

“Ah, shit. Well, I hope you find an empty table, you’re always welcome here if one of us doesn’t show up.” Roman gave a sympathetic smile.

Great, first day, and I’ve already embarrassed myself in front of the hottest guy in the school.

I scanned the cafeteria, searching for an empty table. I saw one in the corner near the kitchen, with only two people at it. Upon approaching, I saw it was one of the kids from my first period class. What was his name? V-- I couldn’t remember.

“Can I sit here?”

The boy from first period--Virgil!-- looked up, and then to the other person. The boy, who had well groomed, dark hair, and thick square glasses, looked at me and shrugged. He was wearing a black button down shirt, and a blue tie. I took a seat so that we were of equal distance from each other. I was unsure if I was supposed to talk to them in this situation, so I looked down at my food and decided to let them do the initiating. 

DEE

“Dee!” A body crashed into me as I was walking down the hall, and a pair of arms latched onto my torso. I feel a light peck on my neck, then I hear the ice of a Starbucks cup.

“Hey, Remy.” I turned around as soon as Remy released me.

“Oh hon, you look fine. That’s one hell of a cape.” I looked down at my questionable clothing choice.

“The extreme tends to make an impression.”

“Ooh, he’s hot, fearless, and a Heathers fan? I might be in love.”

“Oh, shut up, Remy. Do you know what table we’re sitting at?”

“Not yet,” he linked arms with me and started to walk, “but Roman said to meet him and Remus in the cafeteria during breakfast to coordinate. You know, lunch periods and all that jazz.”

I nod. “The cafeteria is on the top floor?”

“Sure is, hon.”

We made our way to the top floor, Remy saying hi to about five dozen people as we walked past.

“Do you know everyone in the school?”

“Hon, I know everyone in this town.”

Remy might not get all As, (in fact, one A was an accomplishment) and he didn’t always know how to read emotions, and he wasn’t great at solving problems, but if there was one thing he was smart in, was names. He knew every name he’d ever been told, he claims. And it wasn’t just people he’d met; actors, singers, bands, he was a genius. He knew everyone in the school, even if they weren’t friends.

“Hey Jack, honey, looking gay!” He said, knocking his voice up an octave. 

“You too!” He winked.

Another thing Remy was? Gay. Some people are gay, but Remy was not satisfied with that, no. Every had to know. He was up and out and proud.

It’s kind of funny, he use to bully all the gay kids, or the trans kids. His parents were never accepting, and I guess he used to bottle up a lot of internalized homophobia…

“Ooh hon, stop doing your head monologue and say hi to Roman!”  He said when we got into the cafeteria.

Roman, hot as ever, and at least a few inches taller.

“What it do, faggots and Roman.” Remy said.

“Uh, rude much.” Remy released my arm and ran up to squeeze Roman. Not letting go of him, Remy leaned back. “Man, you are a hunk.” 

“Well, I spent the last three months working out everyday. I guess puberty finally set in.”

“Oh, and you got a little fuzz! You are a man, hon.” He gasped, and let go of Roman. 

“Remus! You got a mustache, and you are rocking that top. Dee, get over here.” I walked around Roman. Remus was wearing a frilly shirt, green with a floral pattern embroidered on.

“Hoo, I feel underdressed.” I smirked, fiddling with my cape.

Soon I felt Remus’s arms wrap around me. “Hey noodle.”

I giggled. “Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Aww, my little angry noodle.”

I rolled my eyes, but I felt warm inside.

“Come on, guys, I’m going to show you the table.” Roman said, walking through the lunchroom. Remus let go of me. There was a table in the back corner, complete with Corbin, Sloane, Kai, and Elliot already sitting there. “Everyone, time to compare rosters.”

I found out I didn’t share many classes with the gang, but I was in the same lunch period as the rest of the table. After we were all satisfied, we caught up until the bell rang, and we were off to classes.

***

The classes passed uneventfully, and soon it was lunchtime.

When Roman walked in, there was a short boy in tow.

He had round glasses, but they didn’t distract from his glittering blue eyes. His steps were dainty and small, and still somehow graceful and sweeping. His head was held low, and he couldn't have been more than five foot, but when he walked in, the entire room was at his fingertips.

I could feel light and warmth filling the room. I looked around and found half the cafeteria with their jaws to the floor staring. I could swear a melody was playing in my head as the boy followed Roman to our table.

“Shut up Remy, he’s new. Besides, you wouldn’t want Dee to hear you.” Roman said.

“Someone say my name?” I said, breaking my stare to look at Roman.

“Yo, Ro, I don’t think we have enough seats, ‘cause I’m pretty sure Corbin has this lunch period too.” Said Remus as he looked around the table. My head processed the situation, and then my heart sank a little. The Literal Angel would not be sitting with us, he would have to find some other seat. 

“Ah, shit. Well, I hope you find an empty table, you’re always welcome here if one of us doesn’t show up.” Roman gave a sympathetic smile.

I wanted to offer up my seat, but before I could form the words, the boy had shuffled off to another table.

ROMAN

“We’re meeting everyone in the cafeteria because apparently I’m the leader of this friend group and I have to decide where we sit.”

Me and my brother Remus we’re walking into the school building. Not five minutes in I was bombarded with hordes of joyous teenagers.

“Yo, Ro!”

“What it do, kid?”

“It’s the little guy on the football team!”

“Not so little anymore, hey kiddo!”

I forced a smile and slapped the hands of the people walking by. 

“Hey!”

“Was your summer good?”

“Hey, watch it, you almost bumped into me!”

“You good?” Remus leaned over to me. The rush of people around me faded away as I felt my brother lean into me. I threw my arm around his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” I lied.

He could tell. He always could. I gulped, and straightened my spine. 

Feeling his warmth so close to me was a comfort. Like having a too big dog in your lap, like curling up to your mother on a cold night. Like your brother that’s always there for you in your time of need.

We travelled through the waves of people, eventually cutting through the crowd to the top floor, where the cafeteria was. I put on a smile and went through the motions. I greeted my acquaintances. 

Then it was time for classes.

***

Remus was talking, but I wasn’t really paying much attention to his words. We had the same roster this year, so a lot of what he was saying was just repeating the events of the day before. I was in a trance, the words going in one ear, out the other. I could barely register the way my feet were hitting the ground.

I was suddenly yeeted from my daydream when a body was thrown in my direction. On instinct, I grabbed the arms of said body, gripping them tightly. I put on a cocky smile, and then the head of the body turned up at me.

He had eyes that sparkled like diamonds, they were a pale baby blue. His touch seemed to ooze happiness. I could feel something spreading from his hands, coursing through my blood. I felt happy, for the first time in a while.

It was as if sunlight was streaming through the tiny windows along the wall as he tried to apologize.

“My goodn--oh my--geez--I am--so sorry. Are, I, uh, hurt? Are you, um, hurt did I--”

“It’s cool.” I said, giving a genuine smile for the first time that day.

“I’m am so I am sorry.”

His nervous demeanor only made him more adorable. I wanted to grab his hand right then and run away from this school forever. As I looked at him, I wondered why I’d never noticed him before.

“You’re new? Did you just move to Marshfield?”

He stammered out a string of words, which I managed to connect to “I was homeschooled.” As he spoke, though, his face took a pink tint and he looked at the ground.

Suddenly the thoughts were racing through my mind. I tried to think of all the possible ways I screwed this up, or could screw it up more.

I spat something about being nervous, but I wasn’t really sure of the words coming from my mouth anymore.

“I um, it’s cool, I, uh, it’s my lunch.”

Then I invited him to my table. I could feel my heart beating. Stupid stupid. That’s weird. He’s going to think your weird. What will the others think. I don’t have enough seats.

Indeed there weren’t enough seats, as pointed out by Remus. I stared at him. Sorry. I thought, giving him a smile. He returned it and walked off to another table. I gazed as he went.

I expected my heart to return to it’s grey, melancholy state. And yet? The warmth stayed, even as I turned away from him.

“He’s cute.” Remus said.

I rolled my eyes and took a seat, a touch of pink on my cheeks.

REMUS

Today was a bad day. I’d woken up to Roman curled at the bottom of my bed for the third time since last Monday. His hair was messy, and his face. His light makeup had been skewed by tears. Now, as we were walking down the hallways, he was masking his mood with a smile. 

People greeted him in the halls left and right. I leaned over “You good?” It was a silly question. I knew he wasn’t. He laid his arm on my shoulder.

“Yeah.” He lied.

We walked into the lunchroom and were soon confronted by a sunglass-wearing gay.

“Ooh hon, stop doing your head monologue and say hi to Roman! What it do, faggots and Roman.” Remy said.

“Uh, rude much.” Roman said. 

“Man, you are a hunk.” I heard Remy say. I refrained from mentioning I was the one who got him to work out every morning. I zoned out for a minute until I heard Remy say my name.

“You got a mustache, and you are rocking that top. Dee, get over here.”

I noticed Dee for the first time and smiled. 

“Hoo, I feel underdressed.” I heard him say before I leapt forward and pulled him into a hug.

“Hey noodle.”

He giggled, adorably. “Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Aww, my little angry noodle.”

He rolled his eyes, but I could feel his heart warm up. 

“Come on, guys, I’m going to show you the table.” Roman said, walking through the lunchroom. I let go of him with a smile on my face.

***

Pretty soon I was walking to Biology side by side with Roman. I managed to slip into the room just before the bell rang. I gave a cocky smile to the teacher and picked a seat in the back row. I looked around the room at the students. When my eyes landed on Logan, I smiled, and a memory came to mind.

People were gathered in the classroom, we’d just been told that Amelia… uh, Virgil, the trans kid, had left the school. I was looking around the room at the students reactions. Many were snickering, but quite a few also seemed to be seething.

I heard several remarks, but didn’t catch any. I guess I was sad that a student left, but we hadn’t been friends, so. Well. I guess s--he didn’t have any friends. I started to feel bad for him when suddenly an angry kid stood up. The teacher was standing just outside the classroom talking to someone as the kid--Logan-- walked up to everyone’s favorite bully, Remy.

Remy had been a jerk to Am--Virgil for years. Before he came out, and after. He bullied him for being a lesbian, for being trans, and other made-up and fictional “problems”. Remy bullied everyone, I guess, but Virgil… it was bad for he--him.

My eyes followed Logan as he walked right up to Remy. Remy looked nonchalant at the approach, and didn’t even look at Logan. “Hey.” Said Logan, looking straight on at Remy.

“What do you want, nerd?” Remy said, standing up. As I examined Logan, I could see his eyes were glassy with the threat of tears.

“It’s your fault. If you weren’t such a goddamn jerk to him all the time, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Oh what, you’re defending that girl, she’s not worth it.”

“Shut up Remy, he’s a boy, and I am here to punch you.”

Logan did not disappoint. I saw the teacher turning around out of the corner of my eye, but quickly gave my full attention to the two boys. Logan raised his fist and--

BAM!!

His fist collided with Remy’s face, sending him backwards, tripping over the chair. My heart beat faster. Logan’s face turned cold and unmerciful. He wiped a tear from his face and looked down upon the body. 

(The teacher gazed apathetically before giving a thumbs up and turning back to the door.)

Well, I don’t know how I’m supposed to believe I’m straight.

Butterflies fly through my stomach, and my heart turned over in my chest. He was beautiful, and his fist could do magic.

That was the moment I fell in love with Logan Lowell.

I was pulled back to the present as the class started, and began to take notes on the teacher and the like. My eyes never strayed far from Logan, though. I got lost in daydreams, as I often did. Many of them involved confessing my love to Logan in extreme and extravagant ways. I also created a few vivid descriptions of how exactly I would go about physically torturing him, but I put those aside.

***

The next two periods passed uneventfully, and pretty soon me and Roman were walking down the halls to lunch.

“And let me tell you about his eyes.” I’d been gushing about Logan since this morning, and was not slowing down. “He just has the most--” I was interrupted when I noticed a small body making his way down the hall--straight towards Roman. Neither of them were paying attention. I reached a hand out to pull Roman to the side, but before I could even touch him, the two collided.

As the two apologized, I stared at the boy. He was short, and yet, you didn’t feel like he was. He seemed to be glowing, but I blinked, and the aura disappeared. He had pale, shiny blue eyes, and luscious golden hair. He was beautiful. 

Roman invited him to his table. I might have protested, but the boy seemed so sweet that I didn’t dare.

“Patton.” His name was Patton. I felt it was necessary to step in,

“I’m Remus, the sexiest man you’ll ever meet.”

Roman, I noticed, didn’t take his eyes off of Patton, which, I mean, who could blame him? As we walked into the lunch room, I counted the people at our table. After a moment of thought, I realized we didn’t have an extra seat. 

“Yo, Ro, I don’t think we have enough seats, ‘cause I’m pretty sure Corbin has this lunch period too.” I saw Roman shoot a sympathetic look, and the boy, Patton, walked away. 

“He’s cute.” I said. Roman blushed and took a seat.

LOGAN

I stepped into the building, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose, and glanced around the hall.

Hordes of teenagers rushed across the shining floors, racing to their next class. I stepped through the crowds, swerving around, hitting no one, and yet moving swiftly past. Years of ballet had trained me to move quickly, efficiently, and gracefully.

I stepped into my first period classroom and look around the room. The teacher, a well dressed woman, gave me a smile, and I took a seat in the front row, by the window. I pulled out a notebook and wrote “AP Physics” and my name, “Logan Lowell” on the front. I opened it to the first page and began copying down information from the board about the teacher.

‘Daphne Moon

dmoon@rendsd.org

Graduated from…’

Slowly other students filed in, some familiar, some not. I never paid any attention to the students, I never much needed to. I spent the time waiting for class to begin, staring out the window at the leaves of a large oak tree. 

The class went fairly smoothly, the teacher introduced herself, talked about the syllabus.

Then we were off to our next class. English.

***

“Hello class, I’m Ms. Green. It’s a pleasure to meet each of you. I have my contact information up on the board if you want to read that and…”

She gave a nod and began counting papers on her desk. She looked up, apparently counting the students, and soon began placing papers on desks. I took a look at them. One was titled “About Me”, and it had a variety of questions on it. The second one was the syllabus, and I began to skim through it.

“Please fill out your about me papers, there are markers if you want to color it.”

It was like being back in kindergarten.

I began to fill out the paper. 

What is/are your favorite subject/s?

Physics, astronomy

What do you like to do outside of school?

Ballet, research

How can I best help you?

Challenging the students more than you think they can handle, offering resources to learn more for students who are interested

I finished the paper quickly, and spent the rest of the period relaxing and gazing out the window.

***

Third period came and went, and soon I made my way to lunch. I had brought a sandwich, and apple, and a bottle of water, which I promptly laid out once I’d found an empty table in the cafeteria. Soon, a boy in a hoodie took a seat across the table from me. I nodded out of politeness, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him.

I began my lunch, taking in the scene

Then he walked in.

I don’t quite believe he was a boy, more a celestial being. I scoffed silently. An angel? Logan you’re really going mad.

I wasn’t quite sure why I was gazing at him like there were stars in his eyes, but I followed him as he walked with the football player, Roman? to his table. He was meek, and short, and yet he commanded the attention of the room. I blushed and forced my eyes down to my food. I felt silly for admiring him, but I ignored it.

I stared intensely at my food as I ate. I heard footsteps approaching my table and looked up It was him. I tried to ignore him.

“Can I sit here?”

I shrugged. My odds of avoiding human attraction have severely declined. This is going to be a nice school year.