#on the mile long list of emails i need to send is an offer to buy ceiling fans in exchange for the landlord installing them

[keigelsss]

Hard At Work - Kuroo Tetsuro

a/n: HERE IT IS!!!!! it’s really bad. i struggled. i just wanted to get it over with but this idea weighed heavily on my mind for so long and i cant seem to get it out the way i want so this is the bare minimum with what i was trying to go for sorry :/

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, timeskip!kuroo, dom!kuroo, language, teasing, literally half the fic is foreplay oops, smut, oral sex, unprotected sex (no glove no love y’all), kuroo smacks your ass once, sir kink?, SIZE KINK, belly bulge, overstim, squirting, creampie, as always my shitty writing. *thoughts in italics… if i forgot a warning pls lmk*

Summary: you never thought you’d find yourself in this situation, let alone with the man in charge of your paycheck. luckily those files weren’t that important.

word count: 4.7K

You’ve only been working in this position for about two months now, assistant to one of the smartest sports promoters in the country. It’s a wonderful job and you get to meet star athletes almost every day, but what wasn't in the job description was the super hot promoter that you would be working under literally. If you thought it was hard coming into work with someone so damn attractive, the amount of teasing that went on in and outside of the office was insufferable.

Your day began like every other; come in, bring Kuroo some coffee, a full list of the day's meetings and tidy up in his office. While setting the coffee on his desk, you anticipate what comment he’ll make about the lack of a baked good to accompany his beverage.

“Awe Y/n, looks like you forgot to bring something to munch on again,” he was currently going through emails while twirling a pen in his hand. That scheming smirk that you’ve come to recognize all too well plastered all over his smug face. 

“I’m sorry, Kuroo, they were all out at the café.” You placed your belongings on the small desk located in the corner of his office, spending some time to go over today's schedule as well as sort through a few contracts and client files.

“It’s all good,” he let out a soft chuckle. “You could always let me eat you instead, shortcake.”

You gave a pointed glare to the man before sighing and closing the file cabinet you just finished sorting. “I think it’s best if we get to work, we’ve got a long day ahead of us, sir.” he sends the smallest smirk in your direction then returns to his tasks. Shit... Did I mean to make it come out like that? Whatever he always teases the ever-living hell out of me so it's about time I had my share of the fun too, it’s only fair. Right?

Most of the day was uneventful, the typical routine coming and going without any interruptions. At around 4 pm though, you found yourself swamped with far more paperwork to go through than usual as well as having to scan and digitally file. We didn't have this many meetings today, did we? I just did a stack like this… Most of these need Kuroo’s signature, they shouldn't be on my desk.

Raising your head you shifted your gaze, letting your eyes land on him. He’s seated only ten feet in front of you behind his desk but today it seems like an entire mile. Did he always look that good going through his messages?

While gathering the papers that were wrongfully in your pile and saying a quick prayer to anyone out there, you walked over to sit in one of the matching seats opposite him. Placing the folder down softly to not mess up the flow of his work. He instinctively moves his elbow away to make room for the file and side-eyes it momentarily.

“Just give me two minutes here and I’m all yours sugar,” he says with a quick smile in your direction.

Humming your response and relaxing into the chair you take the time to admire his features. The messy but somehow put together hair that, according to his long-term clients and friends, has been that way since childhood. The sharp features of his cheeks and jaw, his pink lips permanently resting in his signature smirk that can mean an infinite number of things as you’ve come to find out. A muscular neck that is far too appealing for your taste, broad shoulders leading to strong arms, and an equally muscular chest. It’s no doubt that he is built like a god under that dress shirt, it fits him so perfectly it's almost offensive.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts of the man in front of you that you don't even notice how he moves his body, giving all his attention to you.

“Stare any longer sweet girl and you're gonna start drooling all over that cute outfit of yours.” His deep chuckle vibrates through you, definitely causing something to happen deep in the pit of your stomach. Your body was so hot and your throat was so damn dry from the way he was looking back at you. Is he undressing me with his eyes? Fuck! I’m one to talk, I’m doing the same thing.

“Uh it looks like some papers of yours got in my pile, if you can sign them, I’ll finish scanning and get out of your hair.” 

You sat up to hand him a pen then rest your palms against the desk. Those pieces of paper are the only thing separating the two of you and it helps you keep a grasp on reality for the time being.

He toyed with the edges of the folder, lifting just the corner, not even bothering to read over the contents. “Yeah, I put them there thinking it would keep you in the office just a bit longer but you caught on to my plan faster than I thought.” He met your gaze with a semi defeated smile.

“You thought I wouldn't notice at all? Kuroo, I thought you were supposed to be the mega genius here because I had just filed all of those this morning.” A sudden boost of confidence ran through your body and your hands found their way to the folder and started mimicking his previous action that, hopefully, would drive him just as crazy as it did you. Your cold fingers delicately traced above his watch then to his forearms, stopping right where he cuffed his sleeves. A small hiss escaped him through his teeth followed by an airy laugh.

“Call it an experiment.” You couldn't help but giggle at his response.

He suddenly moved back, completely reclining and relaxing in his chair. He went to loosen up the tie around his neck and even went as far as to open two buttons on the restricting shirt. Cheeky bastard.

Kuroo cleared his throat. Resting his elbow against the arm of his chair, chin resting in the palm of his hand. “I bet I can tell what you're thinking right now, shortcake,” he continued to roll his chair back slightly.

Without giving a second thought you moved around to his side of the desk, sitting and leaning on the end farthest from him. You conjured up the best comeback your normally shy and reserved self would never think of, but right now, it's war.

“Oya oya? Tell me, boss, what am I thinking right now?” you finally turned your gaze towards him, pulling off the most convincing innocent eyes you had.

He stood up from his seat, taking the slowest steps toward you and stood right beside your small body. His large hands are dangerously close to the edge of your skirt. If he could feel how hard your heart was beating in your chest you’d be done for. 

That contagious laughter of his booming throughout the room once more. He’ll never admit it but your teasing words sound a lot like him.

“Well if the way you're clenching the hell out of your thighs right now isn't the biggest sign.” His calloused fingers finally make contact with the exposed skin on your legs and slowly rise to trace the curves of your body. Finding a place to rest on your jaw with his thumb gripping your chin forcing you to look directly at him. “I’d say you're thinking of all the different ways I could make you cum on my desk,” his thumb began to slowly trace your lower lip.

You were barely aware of the small moan you let out while fluttering your eyes closed. “Let's say you're right Kuroo,” you nearly choked on the lack of saliva in your throat. “What else am I thinking?” your response barely above a pathetic whimper.

He let out a happy sigh as he placed his thumb between your lips, pressing slightly to signal you to open up. That sigh quickly turned into a small moan when you let your tongue slip from your mouth and wrapped your lips around the digit. Years of hard work and skill evident in the sensation of his thumb pressing against your tongue.

“You’re probably thinking about my cock filling every inch of your tight little pussy,” he moved to stand between your legs, his other hand finding residence on your hip and squeezing the clothed flesh possessively. “Or maybe you’re thinking you might just have the upper hand here because you caught on to my little trick,” he began to mess with the hook and zipper on the side of your skirt. Lowering the piece of flimsy metal agonizingly slow. 

“If that’s the case then you're seriously mistaken sweetheart also when it's just us, call me Tetsuro,” he whispered his name in your ear and if you weren't trying to match his teasing energy, you would’ve made the first move but the build-up was so much better.

He finally let go of the zipper on your skirt and began to pull it slowly down your thighs, all while maintaining eye contact. He slowly removed his finger from your mouth and trailed any lingering saliva along your bottom lip and down your jaw before his hand found comfort around your neck, offering the softest squeeze, eliciting yet another breathy moan from your lips. If only you knew how much those sounds of yours were causing him to short circuit.

“Tetsuro. If there’s anything I know very well, it's my place in this office.” You kept steady eye contact while attempting to squeeze your thighs together. 

Kuroo noticed your struggles and continued to strip the skirt from your body. Your lower half was beginning to burn with anticipation. His long fingers then traced the outline of your panties, if he looked any closer he would see the little wet spot forming right at your entrance. He lightly pulled on the thin material and snapped it back against your body, a small chuckle rising from deep in his chest because of how cute and responsive you are to his actions.

“And where is that exactly?” He can't help but tease you, even though his cock is absolutely suffocating, he still wants to make sure you know who’s in charge. 

“I'm an employee on your payroll, aren't I?” your voice was so soft, focusing more on steadying your breathing. He began to run the back of his hand along your hip and grazed his knuckles against the area that you ache for him the most, a throaty sigh escapes you and some of that newfound confidence as well. Where the hell did she come from?

“It only makes sense that my position is under you.” Kuroo is slightly surprised by your response but he can tell that you’ve had enough of his teasing just like he’s had enough of having to come up with new ways to fluster you. Now it seems that all his prayers are being answered, he finally has you to himself all alone in the office, and there’s only one thing on his mind after hearing the words slip from your lips. “That’s definitely the right answer, but I hope you don’t mind if I spend some time on you first?”

His fingers were now pulling the fabric of your panties down and off your body, he never breaks eye contact, rubbing his hands all over your legs and occasionally squeezing your soft skin. He finally returned to eye level and placed both hands on your cheeks, bringing you in for a hot and desperate kiss. He managed to push you further onto the desk so you can rest comfortably, the cold sensation of the wood on your bare skin forced a tiny gasp to escape. 

Kuroo began to play with the buttons of your blouse, pulling on the material. By the time he gets to the last button, you’re halfway done removing his, finally seeing the strong body underneath it all. Hot. Once he had you completely undressed he took a single step back. Biting his lip and admiring your body.

“You’re so god damn sexy.” He came back to you, hot mouth leaving kisses all over your neck and chest. He spent some time on each of your breasts, sucking and biting on your sensitive nipples, sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. His hands hooked under your knees and spread your legs. You're practically dripping onto his desk by now and can’t help but grind your hips against nothing, desperate for some sort of relief. 

“Someone's a little needy, huh?” his breath was hot against your stomach and fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. Once he got on his knees in front of you, his fingers found their way to your throbbing center. Slowly parting your folds and massaging your sensitive hole with perfect pressure. “Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ wet too,” with his other hand he used his thumb to play with your clit. You threw your head back, letting out a soft moan as you made contact with the desk below.

Kuroo wasted no time putting your legs over his shoulders, leaving wet kisses along your thighs and placing several on your hips. He finally placed a kiss on your clit, causing you to yelp and buck your hips against his face. “You taste better than I imagined baby girl,” he licked a stripe through your folds, then sucked on your clit softly. “Mmm it feels so good!” you’re a moaning, whimpering mess already. Kuroo has to use his hands to keep you still but he’s humming happily while lapping up all you have to offer him and you can't help but shake. “Am I making you feel good, pretty girl? Your cute little pussy is so sensitive huh?” his tongue was replaced with one of his fingers gathering up your slick and slowly entering you.

“Yes yes fuck I love it. I want your cock. Please.” you looked at him through lidded eyes sucking your bottom lip harshly in between your teeth. He can't help but smile at how cute you look begging for him. “Relax baby girl, we’ll both get what we want but I gotta work you up a bit more.” He added another finger curling them a little to find your sweet spot, while sucking on your clit. He knew he found it when you squeezed your thighs around him and called out his name. Your walls twitching around his fingers, reaching your first climax of the day. 

He pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, sucking off every bit of your juices, moaning in sheer delight. Another kiss was placed on your clit before he began a trail of them to your neck and jaw, teeth sinking into your skin. One of his hands caressed your cheek as he kissed you on the lips, your taste and his hot breath sending another wave of arousal through you and you moan into his mouth. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. “Wanna make you cum with my tongue one more time okay sweetheart?”

You wanted to whine and throw a fit but his mouth was magical and you weren't one to complain. With a small ‘okay’ and another kiss on the lips he made his way to your pussy once more, already swollen and ridiculously sensitive. He began with the same rhythm as before, soft groans of satisfaction driving you wild. The grinding of your hips against his face only became more violent when he added his long fingers. Finding that same spot as earlier. 

“F-fuck oh fuck I’m gonna cum!” you arched your back off the desk and brought a hand to your chest massaging squeezing your nipples. The only thing you hear before your orgasm rips through you is the loud squelching of fingers inside your pussy and his moans of praise. When you open your eyes and finally come back to earth, you see Kuroos face, hand and wrist covered in your juices. “I haven't even fucked you yet and you squirted just like that? You're gonna be the death of me Y/n.” 

You giggled a little, hiding your face in embarrassment, body still trembling from the intense orgasm. Of course that smart mouth of his is sinfully skilled. He moved your hands out of the way, intertwining his with yours, lifting you and pulling you into another kiss. 

You let go of his hands running yours along his toned chest, leaving small scratches, quickly removing his belt and slacks. You squeal at how big he looks in his boxers, his cock begging to be free. Pulling the waistband down and letting it drop to his feet, you moan at the sight. A small bead of precum forming at the tip, now an angry red from being neglected for so long. “I wanna make you feel good too Tetsu.” 

Before you can drop to your knees for him he puts his hands on your hips, rubbing soothing circles. “Next time gorgeous, I wanna feel you right now.” he lifted you off the ground, legs wrapping around his waist and lips meeting in a sloppy mess of teeth and tongue. One of his hands made their way to your ass, squeezing softly before landing a smack. You moaned in response and ground your hips against his throbbing member, the tip creating glorious friction against your folds. He finally placed you back on the desk then fisted his cock a few times, running the tip against your folds and teasing your entrance.

“Want you inside me now Tetsuro. Please.” your chest was heaving in desperation and he loved that he made you like this. “Okay sweet girl. If it’s too much let me know.” You gave him a small nod and he kissed you while letting himself slip inside your warm walls. You were already so wet from before but he was so long and thick that the intrusion was slightly painful. 

“Holy shit! you’re so damn tight.” he says through gritted teeth. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tugging softly on his hair when you feel him bottom out inside you. He lets out a few puffs of air because it's taking all his willpower not to cum with the way your pussy is gripping onto him right now. You let out a few whimpers and he checks your face for any signs of discomfort before retracting his hips and thrusting into you. You make eye contact with him, he’s absolutely mesmerizing with that lusty look in his eye and a small layer of sweat on his forehead. 

“S-so big Tetsu. It feels so good.” you squeeze your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer to you and he groans in response. He begins to thrust into you slowly, still trying to keep his cool but finding that sweet spot inside you every time. “Oh you're gonna make me cum with the way you are clampin’ down on my cock like that sweet thing.” he shifts the angle of his thrusts and cages your head between his arms. His large upper body casting a shadow over you that makes you shiver. You can see the way the muscles on his forearms and biceps are flexing with every thrust. How he’s looking down at where you two are connected in pure fascination, tugging his lip between his teeth.

Using his arms to push off the desk, he tugs your hips to the edge and keeps his fingers embedded in the soft flesh, meeting each of his thrusts. You lift yourself as well, resting on your elbows and watching him. You notice a small bump on your belly each time his hips meet yours and it's enough to have you roll your eyes back. Holy fuck now that’s different. Kuroo noticed your surprise and pressed a hand against your tummy, making you feel him even deeper if possible. 

“I’m right there baby girl. Can you feel it?” You feel as though you're being split open but it hurts so good. His stare and dominating aura so sinful and addictive, you know you're in trouble. “Yes it feels so good. I love your cock.” He feels you fluttering around him and picks up his pace. The sharp sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the office along with his animalistic growls. 

“Is that right. You gonna cum on this cock, like a good girl?” his thumb found your clit, working small circles. “Make a mess all over my desk? Let me cum inside this tight pussy?” his thrusts were reaching deep, that bulge in your tummy only looking bigger now. You tried meeting his thrusts halfway, your hand gripped his wrist and you neared another orgasm. “Y-yeah, oh fuck. please. I wanna cum so bad. wanna make you feel good too, sir.” 

At the last word you said he thrusted into you once more. your walls fluttering around him bringing his release as well, he hunched over with a groan and found your lips as he spilled his seed inside you. The warmth filling you up and making you feel nothing but bliss. Your ankles locked around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, keeping him buried inside you while you caught your breath’s. 

He pulled away first, watching as his cock slipped from your tight hole, both of you letting out a sharp breath from the sensitivity. His cum followed right after, dripping down onto his desk. The sight of your clenching pussy and the mess was enough to get him hard again. He wants as much as you’re willing to give him. Lifting your upper body he pulls you in for another kiss, this one a bit sweeter. 

You pulled away and began kissing his jaw. “I want more.” You said looking up at him with bright eyes. Your makeup is messy but you still look delicious as ever. 

He gave you a playful grin and a peck on the lips. “You read my mind gorgeous.” 

He spun you around and bent you over the desk, pressing your body into the wood but not enough to hurt. His fingers slowly ran down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You turn your head slightly so you can see him, right now he looks intimidating as ever. Large muscular body towering over you, one hand gripping your ass and the other teasing the head of his cock along your folds. He can see how your dripping hole is clenching around nothing, your frame trembling from previous orgasms. He's so damn overjoyed that he slips right inside you, not wanting to waste another second outside of your tight pussy. 

The stretch that he provided was nothing you've felt before, he was definitely the biggest you’ve been with. You felt every ridge and vein, every twitch, you still feel him in your stomach. Nothing beat how warm he is though, flooding every nerve with heat and electricity. 

He set a brutal pace, balls slapping against your clit each time, making you cry out and moan incoherent versions of his name. His left hand gripped your thigh and hitched your leg on the desk, the shift in position causing him to drag the tip of his cock perfectly against your g-spot. “Right there Tetsuro, feels so fucking good.” you ached your back in ecstasy. 

The hand he had hooked under your knee creeped up your thigh and rested on your hip. He used the other to raise you off the desk and wrap around you. His warm hard chest pressing into your back and his large, rough palms massaged your tits. You can feel his warm breath on your ear and you shiver when he groans. The deep rumble of his chest crashing into you like a wave. 

Hearing his moans right in your ear was like heaven, the feeling of his cock twitching inside tells you he's close. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum so fuckin’ hard. Your little cunt’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight. You gonna be a good girl and let me cum inside again?” his rough pounding turned into slow, deep strokes. Slamming into your sweet spot with pin-point accuracy.

“Please. Feels so good and I want your cum. Want it in me so bad.” his hand moved to your jaw turning your head, squishing your cheeks and leaving a sloppy kiss against your lips. You brought your arm up, grabbing his face, pulling him closer. You sucked his bottom lip between your teeth and he growled in response, slow thrusts gaining some more speed.

The hand he had on your hip made its way in front of you, fingers trailing softly against your swollen clit. Tears were pricking the corners of your eyes from overstimulation but you loved every second of it. “I want you to milk my cock, take all your filling like a good little shortcake and make a mess on this desk. Can you do that for me?” you only nod and moan your answer.

The intense eye contact between the two of you, mixed with his hard thrusts and rough fingers, make that tingling feeling in your core seem like the first one all over again. Your head falls back against his chest as your body locks up and shakes uncontrollably, the tight fluttering of your walls brought his release as well. 

You can feel his warm load inside as he keeps fucking into you, allowing you both to ride out the intense wave of pleasure. All while massaging your clit, only bringing on another orgasm, making you squirt once more on his hand and desk. Feeling it drip down your legs, surely his too. 

Once the rush of euphoria passed, you both fell forward, his cock still inside you as you both caught your breath. You were still quivering with aftershocks of pleasure when he slipped out of you, a mixture of both of your cum spilling onto the floor and down your thighs. 

He stumbled back onto his chair and took a deep breath. Hypnotized by the way you’re still spread out for him to see, the beautiful sight of your plump ass becoming something he wants all the time. You finally sit up slowly turning to lean against the desk, legs feeling like noodles. Both of you catching the other staring and letting out a fit of laughter. He reached for your hand and pulled you down on the chair with him to relax, wrapping his strong arms around you. 

“So, I was thinking, maybe I should give you a promotion.” he kissed the top of your head and you pinched his nipple teasingly. “Stop fucking around Tetsu.” he smirked and gave you a knowing smirk. 

“We just did, sweet heart.” you rolled your eyes and nuzzled into his neck. 

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

After resting for a while the two of you got cleaned up and dressed, tidying up the office so it didn't look like two people just fucked in it. Once you were done you both stood and looked out the window of his office, watching the sun disappear and the stars start to shine. He made a sound like he just remembered something. 

“Do you wanna go out to get something to eat?” he looks at you while putting his coat on.

“I’d love to, I’m starving,” you grabbed your purse and put on your coat as well. “Oh, uh what time is it?” you ask him. 

He lifted the sleeve of his jacket, looking at his watch and raising a brow. “That’s weird. My watch is stuck at 4:45.” you look at him in confusion. 

A sudden burst of wheezing laughter echoes through the walls and you’re still wondering what’s so funny. He turns to you and looks at your face, melting at how cute and innocent you looked. 

“I think you ruined my watch, Y/n.” he brings a hand up to your face moving a piece of hair that was out of place. You can't help but blush at his words, instantly turning away from him and opening the doors to his office.

“Well we’re even now because you ruined any other man for me.” You walked ahead of him in annoyance but he knows it won't last long.

He’ll have you screaming his name again in his bed in no time. 

I wonder if he was joking about that promotion though…

———————————————————————

✨stay sexy my friends✨

Taglist: @bobabybo

a/n: if you made it this far... yooo... im so sorry you had to read this. it didn’t tickle the brain the way i wanted and i trashed it like ten times only to go back with what i originally started with but if you liked it and you feel a lil sum ;) lmk i would love feedback or what I could’ve done better. i don’t know what I want to do with this blog just yet but for now its just my thirsts and writings. i reply and like on @keigohoes im just stupid lol.

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

my tears ricochet

Modern Day AU! Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff; Steve Rogers x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album Folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years

[warnings: death, and funeral]

word count: 4829

[a/n: sorry for such a long wait. I've been busy. I thought once I was done for the semester I would have a lot more time to work on my stories, but if anything my summer break has been more hectic. Just because I haven't been posting, doesn't mean I haven't been working on them. Just know that I am working on the new chapters for this and for TKWBA, just need a bit of patience from you all. Also thank-you for the continue love and support on all my work]

Series Masterlist

Tag list info here [if you want to be tagged please read this]

Age: 21

Year: Sep. 2015

Location: Brooklyn, NY & Stanford, CA

Elizabeth was sat at her desk doing her homework. She was anxiously waiting for Steve's call about the baby arriving. He had called her two hours prior to let her know that Natasha had gone into labor, and they were at the hospital. Steve told her that he'd call her as soon as he heard the news. She tried her hardest to focus on her homework, but she found herself constantly checking her phone for any updates.

Suddenly her phone started going off. She instantly picked it up and answered the call.

"Is the baby here?" She immediately asked.

"Liz," Steve choked out.

"Steve, what's wrong?" She could hear the distress in his voice.

"Natasha, she," he tried to say but the words got caught in his throat, and she could hear the soft cries.

"Steve, breathe," she tries to calm him down the best she could without actually physically being with him.

Elizabeth was simultaneously trying to keep herself calm, and not rush into any assumptions.

"She died," he said after calming himself down enough to tell her what happened.

"She died?"

"I guess there were complications, he tells her, still unsure of what exactly happened.

Steve hadn't thought to ask further into what exactly happened when Bucky's mom called to tell him the devastating news. He couldn't wrap his head around what she was telling him. He just never imagined that this would be the outcome of his best friend welcoming his first child into the world.

Steve clears his throat trying to force the lump back down.

"I'm catching the next flight out to New York," he tells Elizabeth, "I just gotta be there for Bucky."

"Yeah, of course," she says, completely understanding.

"I know you can't exactly fly out now, without letting your professors know, so as soon as I find out all the funeral," his throat catches at the word, he takes a small breath, "all the funeral information I'll let you know."

"Okay that works," she agrees.

"Okay. I haven't to pack real quick and get to the airport within the next hour," he tells her.

"Okay, I'll let you go."

"Wait, Steve," she calls out before he could hang up.

"Yeah?"

"I love you," she says with a shaky voice.

"I love you too, so much," he says, "I'll text you when I board the plane."

After one final goodbye, Steve hangs up the phone.

The flight seemed like Steve's longest one he's ever been on. As soon as he landed he quickly grabbed his carry on, the only thing aside from his backpack that he brought with him. Elizabeth had messaged him letting him know that she could bring more of his stuff once she flies out.

Steve made his way out of the airport to find his mom waiting for him by her car. He quickly made his way towards her and wrapping his arms around her.

On the drive to Bucky's apartment Steve sent Liz a text letting her know he landed. He then called Bucky's mom to let her know he was on the way.

"Thank-you for coming out Steve," Winnie thanks him, "The baby is just about to get discharged, we should be at the apartment before you get there."

"Of course, I'll see you guys soon," he says hanging up the phone.

Steve then sends a quick email to his boss and professors explains his absence and why he'll most likely be gone for a couple of weeks.

An hour later Steve's mom was stopping outside of Bucky's building.

"Let them know I'm here if they need anything," his mom tells him before he exists the car, "I'll come back at noon with lunch for everyone."

"Thanks Mom," he says leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Steve exists the car leaving his bags with his mom. He takes one final breath before walking to the front doors. Steve presses the call button for Bucky's apartment and was immediately buzzed in.

As soon as he reaches Bucky's door, he knocks quietly. The door opens and he's welcomed by Rebecca. He takes in the sullen face on the teenage girl.

"Hey Bec," he says.

"Hi," she quietly says, as they hug each other in the door way.

When they pull apart she steps aside letting him inside.

"It's just my parents and I here. Bucky didn't want to deal with a lot of people right now," she explains to Steve.

"Steve," he hears from his left, Keith, Bucky's stepdad makes his way out of the small kitchenette over to him, and embracing him, "Thank-you so much for coming. We know you're a very busy person."

Before Steve could respond Bucky's mom Winnie walks into the living room.

"Oh Steve," she immediately wraps her arms around him.

"Thank-you so much for coming on such a short notice," she says. Steve could hear the shakiness in her voice. He could tell she was trying to keep it together. No doubt the last 12 hours being the most stressful and emotional she's ever been.

"There's no need to thank me. This is where I need to be," he tells them.

"Let us at least pay you back for the flight," Keith says.

"No, don't worry about that," Steve waves him off, "I had a lot of miles that needed to be used."

"Well, thank-you again," Keith nods his head, understanding where Steve was coming from.

"You can go on ahead Steve. Bucky is waiting for you in the nursery," Winnie tells him, giving him an assuring nod, he nods back making his way towards the nursery.

The short walk seemed like it was much longer. Steve has never felt so nervous in his life. When he approaches the closed door, he softly knocks on it.

"Come in," Bucky calls from inside.

Steve walks in, closing the door behind him. He's immediately greeted by Bucky sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room, feeding his newborn daughter.

"Hey," Steve softly says, not sure what to say.

"Hey," Bucky greeted Steve with a sad smile.

It had been 12 hours later and it still didn't feel real to Bucky. The hospital had even offered the chance for him and Poppy to stay a couple of days, but all Bucky wanted to do was to go home and get away from the hospital. But now being back in the apartment without Natasha was surreal. He was trying his best to keep it all in, at least while the baby is awake and needs him.

He was determined in being the one that cared for her, even when his mom offered to take care of her for a few hours while he gets some rest. He assured her that he needed to do this. He had to do it alone, because he knew that soon enough it would just be him and Poppy.

Bucky was very grateful when he heard Steve was flying out. He felt like Steve was the only one he could really talk to about everything going on.

Steve was still standing by the door, just watching his best friend be a dad for the first time. He had no idea what to say in this kind of situation. The words were caught in his throat the moment he actually saw Bucky.

"Thanks for coming," Bucky says breaking the silence. Steve immediately looks away from the baby to meet Bucky's eyes.

"You would've done the same thing," Steve says, "And like I've said before, I'll always be here for you."

"I don't care how far, I'll always be on that first flight to you," Steve continues, he glances down at the now sleepy baby, "You're my brother Buck."

There was a moment of silence between the young men. Both understanding what the other one means with such few words.

Steve watched as Bucky gently placed the sleepy baby on his shoulder to burp her.

"It suits you," Steve quietly remarks.

"What?" Bucky looked up at him confused.

"Fatherhood, it suits you," Steve says again, stepping closer to his friend.

"You think?" Bucky looks back down at the now sleeping baby.

"Yeah. I know it's only been less than a day, but you look natural. Make it look easy."

"Thanks," Bucky smiled, getting up for the he chair and walking over to the crib to gently place Poppy in.

Steve walked over, standing next to Bucky, watching the little one sleep peacefully.

"What's her name?" Steve whispered, realizing that he hadn't found out what the name of the baby was.

"Poppy James Barnes," Bucky proudly says.

"That's cute," Steve commented, he placed his right hand on Bucky's left shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

Bucky looked over at Steve and they both nodded their heads in agreement, before falling into an embrace.

"I am so sorry," Steve quietly says.

"It happened so quick, she barely even got to see the baby," Bucky quietly cried into Steve's shoulder, "I never even thought of this would be the outcome. I never imagined I'd be coming home solo with the baby."

Steve tightened his embrace on Bucky, just listening to his friend.

"I don't know how I'm going to do this Steve. I don't know how I'm going to raise her without her mom. I'm trying to keep it together to not worry my mom, but fuck Steve, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm scared I'll screw this all up. I'm scared I'll screw her up.

"I'm so scared Steve," Bucky cries.

"It's okay to be scared," Steve tries his best to comfort Bucky, "I'd be more concerned if you weren't scared. This is entirely new territory for you. You're raising a child, a child who unfortunately no longer has her mother. That alone is a fucking terrifying thing to go through.

"It's not going to be easy. There's no point in lying to you, and saying it will. You and I both that won't be the truth. But if there's anyone I know who could do this, it's you Buck. You're the strongest person I know. Whatever has happened before this doesn't matter. The only thing that matters now is that little girl. And I know damn well you're going to give her the best life she will ever have," Steve pulls away from Bucky and holds onto his shoulders.

"And you're not alone in this. You have a lot of people who care about you, and now Poppy. You will never be alone. You'll always have someone to call, someone to help you. You're crazy to think we would ever leave you to do this alone. We're here, and we're not going anywhere. You and Poppy will never have to be alone. She might not have her mom, but she's got you, and I know damn well you won't ever let her wonder what being without one parent truly feels like.

"You've got this Buck," Steve assures him, "And we're here every step of the way."

"Thanks Steve," Bucky sniffles, wiping the tears away.

"No need to thank me," Steve smiles, "Now why don't you go take a nap. Get some rest. We're here if Poppy wakes up."

"Yeah I could use some sleep," Bucky yawns, his adrenaline from the last 12 hours fading away.

Steve walks Bucky to his bedroom and watches as he gets into his bed, and quickly falls asleep. He quietly closes the door behind him, with the baby monitor in one hand checking to make sure Poppy is still asleep.

He walks back into the living room, placing the monitor by the tv for everyone to see and hear.

"They're both asleep," Steve announces to the room.

"Oh thank goodness," Winnie sighs, "James hasn't taken a moment to rest since everything happened."

"Knowing Bucky, we'll probably have to be forcing him to rest for the next couple of weeks," Steve says.

"I just got off of the phone with Natasha's father," Keith said walking back inside the apartment.

"What did he say?" Winnie asked.

"He said that the funeral is all up to us," Keith sighs, "Something about how Natasha made her own path with getting pregnant, and that once she left she was no longer his responsibility."

"He really said that?" Winnie asked mortified.

"I'm afraid so," Keith sighed, "I tried reasoning with him saying we would handle everything financially and he can come to the funeral but he said no."

"What kind of father doesn't show up to his own daughter's funeral," Winnie shakes her head in complete disbelief.

"Explains why Natasha was the way she was," Rebecca whispered, so that only Steve could hear her.

He reluctantly agrees.

Two weeks later

Elizabeth was helping Steve with his tie in his childhood bedroom. She had flown in yesterday for today's funeral services. Elizabeth had gotten in late last night, so she still hasn't seen Bucky or Poppy yet. She was a let to get a week off of work and her professors gave her an extension on her assignments when she explained to them what happened.

"I still can't believe Natasha's dad isn't going," she says as she straightens out Steve's tie.

"Bucky's mom is still holding out hope that he shows up," Steve says.

"What does Bucky think of it all?" Elizabeth asks.

"He's not worrying about it," Steve explains, looking over himself in the mirror, "His only concern right now is Poppy and only Poppy. If Nat's dad shows up then he does. But as of now Bucky has made the decision that he will not be in Poppy's life. Not until he proves himself."

"That's very mature," she says grabbing her purse.

"This Buck is like a whole new one you've never seen before. Fatherhood has made him a thousand times more grown up these last couple of weeks."

"That's good."

"Ready to go?" Steve asked her, grabbing the keys to his mom's car.

"Yup," Elizabeth says following Steve out.

Bucky had asked Steve to pick him and Poppy up, and Steve had of course agreed.

They arrived to Bucky's apartment in fifteen minutes. Walking up to Bucky's door they could hear a lot of commotion coming from inside. Steve used the key Bucky gave him to let himself and Elizabeth in.

As soon as they walked in they were greeted by the sounds of a baby crying.

"Buck?" Steve called out.

"We're in here," he calls from the nursery.

They go to the nursery to find Bucky looking frazzled while trying to change Poppy's diaper.

"I'm so sorry. I'm running so behind," Bucky tells them, glancing over his shoulder quickly,

"Poppy didn't sleep well last night. And nothing I've tried has been working."

"It's okay Buck, just take your time," Steve calmly says.

"I still need to shower, shave, and get dressed," Bucky rambles, "She's going to need another change of clothes because she spat all over herself, and my mom only bought this one outfit for today."

"Hey Bucky, calm down," Elizabeth calmly spoke up, placing her hand on his back, "Take a breath."

Bucky felt the warmth and comfort from Liz's touch. He listens to what she says and takes a deep breath.

"Okay good," she says, "now you go get ready. Steve and I got this."

"Okay," he nods his head, handing the baby over to Elizabeth, "thank-you."

"Of course," she softly smiles at him, "now go get ready."

Bucky quickly makes his way out of the room and into his own to get ready.

Elizabeth looks down at the small baby in her arms. She could see so much of Bucky in the baby with hints of Natasha. It was a little strange for her to be holding Bucky's baby and it not being her baby as well. Not that she ever wanted to get back together with Bucky, because she didn't. There was just a little voice in her head, that of her teenage self, saying how it was supposed to be them, doing this together.

She quickly shut the voice down.

Elizabeth was incredibly sympathetic of Bucky's situation. All she wanted to do was be there for him, as a friend. She wanted Bucky to succeed as a father, and she would do what she could to make that happen.

Steve silently watched Elizabeth watching Poppy. He couldn't really read her expression. He hates to admit it to himself, especially with everything going on, but he was slightly worried about how Liz would react to all of this. He had faith in their relationship, of course he trusted her immensely. But he still couldn't help but feel like she might decide to leave him for Bucky. Elizabeth turned around to see Steve looking at her with a distant look in his eyes.

"You good?" She gently asked, breaking him from his self-destructive thoughts.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah," she nods her head, handing the baby over to him, "I'm going to try and find her a new outfit.

"Okay," Steve says sitting down with the baby.

"I love you," Liz quietly says to Steve, knowing what could possibly going through his mind, if hers was also wandering.

"I love you," Steve replies back, finding himself relaxing at just hearing those three words, any doubt slipping away.

30 minutes later Bucky was ready to go. He walked out to the living room where he found Steve and Elizabeth sitting with each other holding the baby. He paused for a moment taking in the scene in front of him. He felt a sense of warmth and low flow through him as his closest friends admire his daughter. In that moment he knew he had made the right decision in what he would tell them next.

Steve glanced up to see Bucky leaning against the frame of the hallway.

"Ready?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, but I actually wanted to ask you two something before we go," Bucky says walking over and sitting on a chair next to the couch.

"Sure, what's up?" Steve leans forward, leaning on his knees, giving Bucky his full attention.

Elizabeth tears her eyes away from Poppy to also give Bucky her full attention. She smiles at him, letting him know he could continue on.

"I first and foremost just want to thank you Steve, for what probably is the hundredth time," Bucky says, "I know you have a lot going on with work and school. So I really appreciate everything you've done for me and for Poppy. And you too Elizabeth, I know you're incredibly busy especially with law school prep. And with everything that's happened between-"

"Don't," she stopped him, "What's past is past."

"Well anyways, thank-you," Bucky says, "Now here comes what I wanted to ask you two. There's no other two people I wouldn't trust more with Poppy. So I wanted to ask if you would be her godparents?"

"Really?" Elizabeth asked taken back by Bucky's request.

"Yes," he nods his head, "There's no one else I wouldn't trust with her if anything happens. It'll help me sleep better knowing she'll have two people who'll love her like I would. Two people who have so much love between them, that I know will always be together."

Both Steve and Elizabeth were taken back by Bucky's last statement. They knew Bucky had accepted their relationship, but to actually have him not only say it out loud but to practically give them his blessing, it meant the world to the couple.

Steve and Elizabeth both share a look with tears glistening in their eyes. Elizabeth nods her head.

Steve turns back to Bucky, "We'd be honored to be Poppy's godparents."

Elizabeth and Steve stood up to hug Bucky. All filled with a wide range of emotions. Bucky felt a huge sense of comfort after asking Liz and Steve to be Poppy's godparents. He knew he made the right decision, and he knew he could now sleep better at night knowing his daughter would be taken care of. And by two people he knows can love her the way he does.

After what happened with Natasha, Bucky just wanted to make sure Poppy would be taken care of. If she couldn't have her parents, then she would have the closest thing to having parents. And Bucky knows Steve and Elizabeth would be amazing parents.

That alone allowed him to be at peace for whatever may happen.

Arriving to the funeral location Bucky felt his nerves start to spike. He sat in the backseat looking out the window at the familiar faces walking into the chapel.

"You okay?" Elizabeth asked turning in her seat, after Steve parked the car.

"I don't know if I can do this," he mutters, glancing towards the sleeping baby in the car seat next to him.

"We'll be right next to you along the entire way," Liz calmly says.

"If you feel too overwhelmed we'll leave whenever you want," Steve tells him, "We won't stay if you absolutely can't handle it. No one will hold it against you."

"Okay," Bucky takes a deep breath.

"Stay here, I'll get the stroller out," Steve says, getting out of the car.

"No one is expecting you to be brave, Buck," Elizabeth says, "You're allowed to be vulnerable. You're allowed to show emotions."

He nods his head, taking in what she's telling him.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small necklace. Clutching onto it as if his life depended on it.

Elizabeth catches the small 'N' on it, realizing that that was the necklace Natasha wore everyday since she was 13.

Bucky takes one final deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

"Okay, I'm ready," he tells her.

"Okay, let's do this."

Bucky was grateful that they arrived only minutes before the service started. Everyone was already seated in the pews.

He slowly walked down the aisle pushing the stroller, Steve and Elizabeth walking right behind him.

Bucky tried his best to avoid any eye contact with everyone. He couldn't bare to look at the pity in their eyes.

He caught sight of his family siting in the second row. He also noticed a man sitting alone in the first row.

He instantly knew who it was.

Once Bucky reached the first row, the man made to movement to greet Bucky.

Bucky cleared his throat, "Mr. Romanoff."

The older man looked over at Bucky, then at the stroller.

"James," he stiffly said, turning his attention back to the front.

Bucky awkwardly sat down placing the stroller next to his legs, away from Natasha's father, while Steve and Elizabeth sat next to Bucky.

The service was going smoothly up until the priest announced that Natasha's father would be making a speech, catching everyone off guard.

Bucky looked at the older man as he walked up to the stand. He turned around to face his mom, "Did you know this?" he whispered.

"No I didn't," she shook her head.

Right as Mr. Romanoff was about to start speaking, Poppy began to cry. Bucky quickly went to get her out of the stroller, while Steve quickly went to grab a bottle to help him out.

As soon as the baby calmed down Mr. Romanoff began to speak.

"First and foremost, I want to thank everyone for coming," he begins, "I really appreciate it. Natasha would be eternally grateful for all of you."

Bucky started to get annoyed by the beginning of Mr. Romanoff's speech. As if the man didn't turn down the invitation for the last two weeks. Now he's trying to act like the perfect father, as if he didn't kick her out and cut off his pregnant daughter.

"Natasha was a kind hearted person. Only wanting the best for those closest to her. She was the most selfless person you would have ever met," he continued on with his speech.

Elizabeth couldn't help but be confused by Mr. Romanoff's speech. She hated thinking ill of the dead, but that man had no idea who his daughter truly was.

"Natasha was so smart, earning her way into Yale. She was only months away from graduating. I was so incredibly proud of her. If only we would've gotten the opportunity to watch her walk across the stage.

"Other than leaving an everlasting impression on all of us, she also left behind a part of her. Her last moments on Earth was spent bringing in another Romanoff," he says.

Bucky's head snapped up to Mr. Romanoff, then towards Steve.

"Romanoff?" Bucky whispered, "This man has the fucking nerve."

"Ignore him," Steve whispered back, trying to calm Bucky down, "He's just saying all of this to make himself look good."

"Natasha brought her daughter into the world," Mr. Romanoff continued, forcing fake tears to fall, "I remember being by her side as she was in labor."

Bucky clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to call Mr. Romanoff out on his lies.

"As she was dying," Mr. Romanoff paused for dramatic effect, "Her only request was to name her daughter after her."

Steve paled his hand on Bucky's shoulder, trying his best to calm him down. It was too late, Bucky was already placing Poppy in Steve's arms.

"What a fucking lie," Bucky stood up shouting at Mr. Romanoff, causing everyone to gasp.

"James," Mr. Romanoff said through gritted teeth, as a warning.

"How could you just lie to all these people?" Bucky shouted, "How could you lie as if you didn't disown Natasha months prior when she told you she was pregnant. Or when my parents kept inviting you to the funeral, you kept saying no and how Natasha's decisions led to their death. How dare you say you were in the delivery room. As if you didn't have her number blocked.  My mom and I were there when things took a horrible turn. We were there when the doctor walked out and told us Natasha didn't make it. Not you! Us!

"Then you go on to make some shitty story about Nat's last words. Which is completely false. Natasha never wanted to name the baby after herself, you'd actually know that if you were actually present in her life. But you weren't. And you sure as hell will never be a part of your granddaughter's life."

Bucky turned to Steve and Liz, "Let's go."

They nodded their heads and helped put Poppy in the stroller. They followed Bucky as he walked out of the chapel.

After leaving the funeral services, Steve was able to calm Bucky down. Winnie had called Elizabeth to let her know that the burial services the next day were officially going to be private. Liz agreed that that'd be best for everyone involved. Especially with what happened during the funeral services.

The burial service was only attended by Bucky, and his family, along with Elizabeth and Steve.

Everything went along smoothly. Everyone giving Bucky the safe space to grieve.

After the burial, everyone gave Bucky a few moments alone at the grave site so he can say his final goodbyes.

"Hey Nat," he pauses taking a deep breath, "these last two weeks haven't been the easiest. But boy have they been amazing. I may be more exhausted than I've ever been, but boy is she worth it.

"She may only be two weeks but I can already tell she's going to be the most amazing person ever," he softly cries, "You would've loved her so much. But like I promised back at the hospital, she'll never not know who her mother was. I will always make sure she knows who you were. Always."

"Goodbye Natasha," he whispered, before walking away to join his family waiting.

Age: 26

Location: Brooklyn, NY

Year: 2020

"Daddy, what's this?" Poppy calls out to her father from his bedroom.

"What's what petal?" He asked walking into the room, finding her surrounded by boxes, as they prep for their move uptown.

"This," she holds up the small necklace with the 'N'.

Bucky kept that necklace in a small box in his nightstand. He kept it at the bottom of his nightstand for safe keepings. Planning on one day to give it to his daughter. He always planned to wait until she was 16, but he figures now is as good as ever.

"That was your mommy Natasha's," he said walking over to her, and sitting next to her on his bed, "She got it when she was 13, and wore it every day up until when she died."

"It's pretty," she says admiring it in her hands.

"It is isn't it," he smiles at his little girl, "It's now yours."

He grabs the necklace from her little hands. He unclasps it, then gently moves her dirty blonde hair to the side. He places the necklace around her neck, and clasps it shut.

"Thank-you daddy," she smiles brightly at her father, admiring the necklace that now lay on her chest.

Bucky smiled at his daughter, watching as she kept admiring the necklace. It was a little big on her, but he knew she would grow into it.

"Anything for you baby," he kisses the top of her head, "Anything."

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 7 ~All In A Day's Work~

WARNING: MILD SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in  A Wrinkle of Time

"You have my blessings. Conditions are, there should be once a week phone-calls. Video or facetime ones or whatever you call it. And when I'm on British soil ..."

Jamie suddenly straightened up on his seat. "We'll visit, or ye can come and stay with us." 

Quentin shot up on his feet. "Very well then, welcome to the family, Fraser. Go and get your dinner ...you wouldn't want your wife ..." he coughed, his face turning red. "...I mean your girlfriend reheating what she's just lovingly made."

Jamie got up as well, ready to shut the laptop, relief and confusion at the sudden turn around washing over him in waves.  What the fuck just happened?  Too bewildered for words, "Of course," was all he could muster. 

Quentin hesitated, as if in search of the right words, his throat working overtime. When he finally spoke, Jamie couldn't help but hear the emotion in the older man's voice. "If Claire's father was alive today, he would think his daughter has made a fine choice."

His jaw dropped involuntarily. "He would?" 

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

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   Claire sat at her desk in her newly built writing studio, contemplating what to do about Thomas Christie next. For the past couple of days, she'd attempted to reach the elusive blogger by all means of communication: phone calls, email, comments on his posts and private messages in his Instagram and blog account. But her efforts, to her frustration, were to no avail. She'd even asked around the village for information on his whereabouts, but each answer led to nowhere. Though he had a resident address, it's quite apparent he wasn’t in. She'd thought of asking Jamie for help but decided not to. It was her project, and she's determined she would accomplish it with her own research skills.

Sighing, she leaned back against her seat and stared at the ceiling. Her boss, John, was counting on her to convince Christie to publish with Dreamweaver Publishing, and so far, she had nothing to show. Looking out the window facing the open fields, her gaze settled on the tractor bumpily navigating a small ragged lane, the rumbling of the engine soundless. She smiled. True to his words, Jamie had more than adequately soundproofed her workspace, shutting out any distracting noise. But with no sign of life from Christie, her work had been brought to a standstill.

Ah, hell! Claire glanced at the time. It was already mid-morning, and she'd been sat there staring blankly at Christie's blog all morning. What to do, what to do? She switched tabs on her browser and looked at his Instagram account, and realised he'd just posted a photo circa a minute ago. She decided to strike while he was online and send a message. Go for it, Beauchamp! With huge calming breaths, she rolled her shoulders and began to type, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

Hello Mr Thomas Christie. My name is Claire Beauchamp from Dreamweaver Publishing Company, London. I have been trying to reach you for the last couple of days to offer you a proposal that may be of interest to you. Some time ago, we came across your blog, and after having read through the content, we've come to realise it has an enormous potential to become the ultimate guidebook to the Scottish Highlands in print. Your knowledge, passion, and enthusiasm for Scotland and your keen eye for photography have captured the public interest, our company and myself included. We'd love to assist you in reaching your highest potential and expanding an even broader following should you be interested in authoring a book. I will be in Broch Mordha for the next few days if you wish to speak to me in person, and I will be more than delighted to explain the details. Any feedback you can give me at this point would be highly appreciated. Best regards, Claire.

Thinking Christie would appreciate the option, she included her phone number and her professional email address and then clicked send. After going over her message, she randomly liked his posts and commented on a recent photo for good measure, hoping it would be enough to get his attention. Oh, please answer this time!

Satisfied for now she'd done everything she could, she decided to make a coffee. She was just about to get up when her phone rang, making her jump in the process. Oh, sweet Mother of God! She must be more on edge than she thought. Clearing her throat, she gingerly tapped the answer button on her screen.

"Hello?" she squeaked. Damn it! I sound weird. 

"Miss Beauchamp?" a deep, heavily accented voice answered. "Thomas Christie here."

"Mr Christie! You called!"

"Please, call me Tom. I'm no' much for convention and formalities. May I call ye Claire? If that's alright."

"Of course," she smiled, regaining back some semblance of composure. She'd already prepared a presentation in her head, but looking back now, it sounded like a pitch from a realtor selling a million-pound property. She reminded herself, Thomas Christie was a nature buff and liked to live an uncomplicated life, if not minimally, when travelling around Scotland in his restored Westfalia Volkswagen Camper. If she'd learned anything from his posts, it was that he wouldn't be easily persuaded with a promise of fame and monetary gain. There's no option but to start improvising.

"I heard a pretty lass was looking for me," he drawled with a hint of amusement in his voice. "I was informed ye were asking around. At first, I thought ye might have been from the council trying to get hold of me because of my unpaid council taxes. If that had been the case, I would have made an exception and come and paid my dues after seeing the photo my mate has taken of ye. Shame it wasn't a better close-up."

"Photo?"

"Aye, photo. My mate took it when ye werenae looking and sent it to me. Ye are bonnie, I must admit."

"Oh!" Holy, is he flirting? Claire wouldn't be surprised. This man's charms had drawn quite a lot of female fans to his site, and it was apparent that he's attempting to weave it on her. He probably thrived in his devotees' admiration, making him aware of his own appeal. This kind of cocksure behaviour wasn't a novelty, so she ignored the teasing but attempted to maintain a fairly laidback attitude. "Well, as you can see, I'm not from the council. And if I were, I wouldn't be making a noise about it now, would I?"

He laughed out loud. "You're right. So, what can I do for ye, Claire?"

"Have you read my message?"

"I have," he said quietly. "But I want to hear from ye why ye think my blog would be good enough to be published."

"Well, as I said, your passion and enthusiasm for Scotland are very apparent in your writing. Your words are ... how shall I say it, so visceral. But I'm not going to lie, though. We would need to make a lot of adjustments before we could present it to the mass. A bit of tweaking here and there and ..."

"Tweaking? I thought ye liked my work as it is?"

"Oh, I do," she said hurriedly. "You misunderstood. We wouldn't want to take the essence out of your writing. It's just a process every book has to go through before it's published. Like polishing your sentences, making them smooth and clear, ensuring that they don't have unnecessary phrases and repetition. And of course, there's the design and typesetting ...oh, well, that's for much later on. It's all standard drill in the publishing process."

"I see ..."

When a long silence lapsed, she checked her phone screen to make sure they were still connected.

"Tom?"

"Aye, I'm still here." He took a huge deep breath. "And what's yer role in this, Claire?" 

"I'm the editorial assistant for Dreamweaver, and I'm here to make this proposal and answer all your questions."

"Right ...Weel, ye see, this is my concern. I'm an avid book reader, and while I'm pleased with all the attention my online journal is getting, I highly doubt that my writing would make it among the best selling list, let alone would anyone, for that matter, be too giddy with excitement to buy it. So what's all the fuss?"

The ambiguity in his voice wasn't lost on her. He may be this self-assured, nature-loving, nonconformist bloke as he'd portrayed on his online travel journal. But clearly, some of that attitude needed to rub off on his self-belief for his art.

"Oh, but that's where you're mistaken," she reassured. "My boss, John Grey, is totally sold with the idea of your adventure stories around Scotland, and he thinks with the proper structural development, design and marketing, it would be a hit. Especially with your fans. The concept is refreshing, and it would be different from any travel guides out there. And besides, it would be an excellent boost for Scottish tourism."

He made some muffled noise and then cleared his throat. "What about ye?"

"What about me?"

"Are ye sold on the idea of my blog?"

Part of John's faith in this book's promising prospect clung to Tom's admirable physical qualities. But for her, that wasn't the main selling point.

She straightened up from her seat and leaned over her laptop. With a flick of her wrist, she brought her computer to life and right there on the screen was his Instagram account. She remembered John's words, Sell him the dream! But she didn't need reminding. Tom may not be the most proficient writer, but his contents were great, especially the picturesque panorama photos. She read a few snippets of his post and smiled.

"Tom ...this opportunity Dreamweaver is offering you would be great exposure for your travel journal. By publishing it in print, you'll be able to reach a broader audience. Your knowledge of this wonderful place is beyond incredible from flora to fauna, the lands' history, the weather phenomenon that can only be termed as typically Scottish ...the whole package is simply amazing. Your passion and enthusiasm for this place make me want to go on that adventure you so love …" She inhaled deeply, searching for the right words. "And I know deep in my guts your future readers would feel the same way. And that's what a great travel book should do, great adventure stories that inspire readers and challenge them to step outside the comfort zone ...even for a little while. This is the kind of book that could encourage people to explore, make them realise that escape from the daily drudgery doesn't mean expensive trips halfway around the world, and that adventure can be found in one's own backyard or a few miles trip down the road. I say you should share this with the world. And to answer your question ...yes, I'm totally sold."

She was out of breath by the time she finished, so she leaned back on her seat and crossed her fingers, hoping for a positive outcome. It was all now down to Tom. She didn't want to push, but the longer the silence between them went on, the more she felt like she was forcing him into a snap decision.

Ah, hell! "Look, Tom, there's no need to decide right now. You have my number. Why don't you think about it for now and call me up when you've made a decision. How about that?"

"I have a better idea. How about we discuss this further in person before I decide? Let's say ...over a dinner date?" he suggested in a low voice.

The word date resounded loudly in her ear. Oh, dear, God!

She needed to play this right without making it look like she was turning him down. Hoping for the best, she laughed nervously. "Of course, it only seems fair to meet first in person before you decide." She swallowed hard and squeezed her eye shut. "But I would hardly call it a date. We can meet at the Inn's pub in the village square and professionally discuss everything over lunch if that's alright. And just to be clear, I already have a boyfriend." 

"Ah, damn!"

She flinched. "Oh, dear!"

He laughed. "Relaxed, Claire. I get it. Ye're taken, and I'm no' surprised. But ye cannae blame a lad for trying, could ye?"

"N-no, of course not ..."

"So business lunch it is then. I'm away for a few more days, so ye have to wait a bit more. I'll give ye a ring when I get back. How's that?"

Yess! She made an effort not to sound too relieved. "That's perfect, Tom! I'll see ye in a few days!"

"Great!" Then the line went dead. 

She let out a massive sigh of relief. So damn close! Feeling elated at the outcome of their conversation, she shot to her feet and did a happy dance. She couldn't wait to call John and tell him everything. If she did her work well and laid out all the finer details of the publishing process and projected outcome, she knew Tom wouldn't be able to turn down the proposal. Invigorated, she immediately went back to work and began typing her outline. Ah, life is good!

..........

Jamie killed the chainsaw engine and pulled down his safety goggles when he caught sight of Jenny's car approaching. He had a bird's eye view of the driveway from the tree and could see everyone's coming and going. What the bloody hell is she doing here? She didn't usually come to job sites; nevertheless, he decided to come down since it was nearly lunch break. Wondering why her visit couldn't wait until work was done for the day, he gripped on to his harness and made a slow descent.

His sister got out of the car, stopping to greet some of the workers and subtly launching glares at him. Alertness immediately snapped in Jamie's shoulders as he realised something was up. 

He dropped to the ground, his work boots landing on a combination of mulch and wood chips debris. As he laid down his chainsaw, he watched his sister approach and noticed the forced smile she had for the workers a few seconds ago, waning from her face. He braced himself as he waited for her to say something, unease slithering like a snake up his spine. This was definitely not a friendly visit.

"What's this I hear, ye havenae been attending therapy?" she hissed. "Have ye gone, daft?"

He glanced above Jenny's head to see if anyone was watching them before glowering down at her. "For fuck sake, Jen, ye're no' my ma," he said in a low voice. "Whatever's about to spew out of yer mouth, this is no' the time nor the place for this."

"Ach aye? Wait till ma hears about ye missing yer therapy!"

"Oh, what's this? We're back in primary school or what? Rushing off to ma to tell her everything. Why cannae ye give ma and me a break, eh?"

"The therapy is for yer own good!"

"I'm fine, Jen! I told ye that many times! What part of 'I'm fine' cannae ye understand?"

"Ye've been telling everyone that all yer life. Everything's fine ... I'm fine ... dinnae fash," she mimicked his voice, her face scrunching up. "Ye say that all the time even when, in actual fact, most of the time ye werenae. So why do ye suppose I dinnae believe ye?"

Jamie looked up at the sky and let out a massive breath. "Aye, there's truth to what ye say. But this time ...I swear, I've never felt better."

"Bloody hell! All this time, I thought ye've been attending therapy. I wouldnae have known if Geneva hadnae asked after ye."

"Weel, if ye'd asked, I would've told ye!"

"No, you wouldnae. And that's always been yer problem."

Christ, why can't she just shut up? He glanced up and noticed his men were looking towards them now. He tugged at the neck of his shirt and winded his head. "Jenny, stop! I cannae do this right now."

His sister stepped forward and was right at his face. "Ye think I'm telling ye off for fun? Weel, here's the news. Everyone wants the best for ye, but ye dinnae care, do ye? Ye're acting like one selfish prick!"

"Jenny ..." he warned, feeling hot and cold all at once.

"No, dinnae Jenny me ..."

"Jenny, shut up! I cannae ..."

"Ye could've at least had Geneva assessed ye. Is that too much to ask?"

Jamie shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he realised Jenny's voice had become distorted, and the grating sound of the stump grinder and helicopter whirring above his head grew more punctuated. Without a hint of warning, a bomb suddenly detonated inside Jamie, and his world began to move in slow motion. Seeing nothing but red, he was only vaguely aware that his angry bellow brought everyone in the vicinity to a standstill.

"What the fuck, Jamie!"

Jamie came to his senses when an arm landed across his chest. He realised Willie was standing between him and Jenny. He glanced at his sister, and her expression caused something inside of him to still. He looked down and saw his fists were two rocks, shaking as if prepared to do some severe damage. Oh, God!

"Jenny ...Willie ..." Jamie whispered. "I ...ah ..."

Hands curled up under her chin, Jenny's eyes were as big as saucers, and she looked terrified. Of me? His heart nosedived to his boots so swiftly, he wondered how he remained upright. The fury evaporated in an instant, and all that remained was shame. He'd felt that kind of guilt before but never with enough punch to knock the air out of his lungs. For crying out loud, this is my sister. What was I thinking?

"Jen ..." He attempted to reach out to his sister, but Willie's arm restrained him. Realising the cause of his older brother's concern, he forced his fists to unfold, aware of Willie watching closely. "I'm so sorry. Oh, Christ, I wasnae gonnae hurt ye," he rasped. "I could never lift a hand to ye. Ye must know that."

He swallowed a lump when Willie appeared reluctant to let him go. But Jenny patted their brother's arm, nodding to let them know she was alright. When Willie took a cautious step back, Jamie immediately gathered his sister into his arms and cradled her against his chest.

"Jen ...forgive me. I didnae mean to shout," he said thickly. "Ye ken I wouldnae physically hurt ye, aye? For Christ sake, ye're my sister, and I love ye. Ye looked so frightened. I couldnae bear the way ye looked at me ..."

"Jamie ...I wasnae scared of ye ..." Jenny whispered. "I was scared for ye."

He pulled slightly away and searched her face. "What do ye mean?"

"Even though ye've been to war, I ken ye dinnae like fighting and violence. Ye abhorred it. I was scared ye might do something ye might regret and make yer condition worse. I dinnae want that for ye."

Jamie stared down at her. "Jenny ..."

"Look, Jamie. It was my fault. I shouldnae have pushed knowing yer condition, and ye ken what my temper is like when it gets out of control. It's like ..."

"Like mine ..." Jamie finished off for her. Drawing her once more into his embrace, they stood like that for a while. Soothing, apologising and hushing each other.

Willie stared at them and shook his head in disbelief, mumbling a sequence of profanities. It wasn't the first time he'd seen their outburst with such intensity. But it was probably the first time Jamie had seemed out of control. Reassured that peace had been restored, for the time being, Willie spun around and left them alone. Exercising his authority at their workers, the older Fraser barked warnings that gossip coming from their workplace would not be tolerated and anyone found guilty would be subjected to an immediate suspension. And with that, he stomped off, leaving them all to stare at his disappearing form in shock.

..........

"There ye are," a deep voice mused.

Claire jumped, making her slam the fridge door and Adso bolt out of the kitchen. She took a deep breath before turning around. 

"Jamie! You're home early. I was just about to prepare dinner."

"Willie didn't need me for the rest of the afternoon, so he sent me home early." His chest was bare and heaving and glistening with sweat. He must have taken off his top as he came in. "I ran all the way from work. I think I may have far too much energy," he explained, slowly approaching her. His hand reached out and placed it behind her neck, and drew her in for a slow wet kiss, knocking the air out of her lungs. His other hand slid under her sweatshirt and squeezed her breast. "Tell me, what am I suppose to do about it, Sassenach."

She pulled away from him and scrunched up her nose. "Jamie! You're dirty."

"And here I thought ye like me dirty." There was no amusement in his tone, and his bunched jaw told her he was on edge or maybe stressed? 

"Why don't you take a shower while I make us something to eat, or better still, how about a bath to help you relax? I'll even bring you a beer," she suggested, feeling a tad concern as she eyed him questioningly.

"How about ye come and have a shower with me," he wheedled, tugging her closer. 

She drew away and took a step back. "Jamie, I've just had one, and I'm all clean." 

"No' a problem. I can get ye dirty in no time." Jamie hauled her into his arms as she tried to dodge. Squealing, she slapped his chest. Once more, his hands wandered, causing a tingling sensation to coast all over her body. "There we go, ye're as dirty as me now." Pressing himself against her, he inhaled her hair as his breath came faster, fingers twisting in the hem of her top. "Ye definitely need a shower now." he gritted.

Laughing, she peered up at his face, and what she saw made her do a double-take and swiped the smile off her lips in an instant. Oh, sweet Mother of God, he looks worse for wear. Something must have happened at work. Didn't he say Willie sent him home? Looking closely, she noticed he looked weighed down with need, and it wasn't just the sexual kind. It was something more and urgent. He'd had almost the same look the other night when he woke up from a fitful sleep, but she hadn't pushed to find out. His hands were all over her now, frantic and desperate like he was trying to grasp onto something to anchor himself, his breathing becoming more shallow and harsh, and his eyes beginning to glaze.

"Jamie stop! Stop right this second."

He immediately stilled and loosened his grip, shame marring his face. "Ach Christ, Sassenach, did I hurt ye? I did, didn't I? Tell me! Oh, dear God ..."

He was about to turn away, but with her hands, she forced his pained face to look at her, a moan barely subdued in his throat. She could already read what was going on through his head. No way would she stand by and let him take any blame, feel shame or guilt. Not this time. And not anymore. He'd made mistakes like everyone else and would continue to make them, but he needed to believe he was a good soul. This had to stop now. "Look at me, James Fraser," she demanded in a firm voice. "Look at me! Whatever is going through that damn mind of yours, don't you even bloody dare entertain it. Are you listening to me?"

"Sassenach ..."

"No, Jamie! I don't know what happened to you today, but let me tell you this ...shit happens all the time, alright? And sometimes we don't get to have any control over it. That's just the way it is. Tonight we're going to talk, even if it takes the whole bloomin' night. But first ..." Before she could change her mind, she stepped away from him and yanked off her top and pulled her leggings down. When she was fully naked, she took his hand and laid it on her bare breast. "Take whatever you need, Jamie."

He baulked. "Sassenach ...ye shouldnae want this in my state. It's wrong. I-I was too rough. I could have hurt ye." His voice sounded hollow and agonised. 

"But you didn't."

He palmed her breast. "Christ, do I have a shred of decency left?"

"Do you love me?" she asked, undoing his jeans button. She saw he was already highly aroused and his skin covered in goosebump.

"With all of me," he groaned when she pulled down his zipper. "And ye ken that."

Determination licking through her veins, she stood on her tiptoes and spoke into his ear, her hand sliding inside his jeans to caress the ridge of his hardness. "If that's the case, what we're about to do is not wrong."

A voice raced through her consciousness, telling her this was the way forward. She knew he needed his control back before he would be able to speak to her. So she got down on her knees and pulled his pants down. 

When he wrapped her hair in his fist and tilted her head back, she smiled. "Now, let's get dirty and exorcise those pesky brain chatter, shall we?" Before he could reply, she took him full in her mouth and worshipped him with her love, absorbing every frustrated growl that ripped from his throat and every emotion that poured out of him with every roll of his hips. 

She pushed him to the edge and over until he found his release, and his loud cries echoed in the air. When he shattered around her, his body slumped onto the floor and into her arms.

Claire knew they had a long night ahead of them, so she cradled him, waiting patiently for his breathing to calm. Later after she bathed him, they would talk, but for now, she was contented just to hold him a little while longer, as she wondered how many of Jamie's demons she would have to slay tonight and if love would be enough to conquer his hell.

Dear Readers,

Thank you all for your feedback from the previous chapter. I know it was a bit deep and dark, but I really did want to do Jamie's condition justice, and I must admit, I probably got carried away putting so much emphasis into it. But that's just me, I guess.

And as for the latest instalment,  I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think.  I must admit it is moving a bit slow, but it's a necessary move to pull this story together as I cover loopholes and grounds. One day, you'll understand the logic behind it.😀 So have patience, my friends - all in good time. Stay safe for now and take care until next time. X

[chichirichick]

SoMa Week Day 3: Protect

I may have gone a little crazy with this one... it's sort of a lyric fic inspired by @macabremermaid sending me awesome playlists for my other fics.

Check out my @soulxmakaweek entry for Day 3 on ff.net, ao3, or after the cut! Also, feel free to listen to the playlist on repeat 😘

"What the hell is this?"

There were never more dreadful words strung together, but the fact that Maka was shouting them as she was unceremoniously plopping onto his stomach while he was lying on the couch added a blistering wave of anxiety to them. As Soul realized it was in fact his laptop in her hands, the utter panic was compounded as his heart threatened to entirely spew from his chest.

Had he perhaps left a porn tab open?

Had she opened his email and saw how much money he actually spent on the new sound system that he bought for the living room?

Had she found the chat logs between him and Liz where she dogged him day in and day out about the uncomfortable reality of his feelings for his meister?

"Soul, seriously- KPop?"

I wish it was the porn, he cursed out at the universe.

"Because I go to YouTube to find a video on how to fix-"

"Why are you on my laptop though?" He finally managed to squeak, even though that was most definitely not even close to raging; it was just the poor, pathetic squeal of a man entirely metaphorically stripped.

"Mine needs to charge," she spat back as if that was a stupid question in the first place. "Going back to my point- I open it up and on the top of your playlists is this one: Mix0903. Which is filled with Korean boy bands." She leveled her eyes at him with the playful accusation. "Does that mean you have nine hundred and two other mixes of Korean pop music or are the others at least filled with the snooty music you've led us all to believe you actually like? I think Miles Davis would be rolling over in his grave-"

"Give me that!" Soul finally let some of his panic feed action rather than frozen fear as he sat up and grabbed for the laptop. Regardless of the implications, part of him wished for it to take a skyrocketing, crashing fall, shattering to bits just as his coolness had moments prior, but Maka had an iron grip on the machine. The only thing his movements earned him was Maka settling in his lap, leaning as far forward as she could manage with arms outstretched to keep the laptop from his grasp.

Yes, this position was in no way, shape, or form comfortable as her ass ground into his crotch, but at least Soul's body was more involved with the hysterics of her hitting play, of that stupid first song starting the emotional rollercoaster that he sat on at least once a week.

"BTS, Soul, seriously," Maka teased through twittering giggles. "Dimple? Do you know the dance for this? Please, please, tell me you do!"

"There's no dance," he groaned as he attempted to wrap an arm around her waist, hugging her closer so that his other hand could hopefully stretch far enough to the spacebar to at least stop the torture. Instead, he was left cursing Maka's flexibility, the tuck of her waist still leaving it out of his grasp.

"OK, OK, next!" Maka clicked a button. "Who's WOODZ?"

"You wouldn't know 'im," Soul grumbled.

"Ugh, even with K-Pop you're an insufferable hipster. You wouldn't know him, he's so underground," she added as she put on her best Soul impression.

He sucked his teeth as he heard the click again.

"OK, Shinee's a classic, Soul," Maka interrupted herself for laughter again. "But this one's a little creepy, isn't it? With all my body baby- I'll crash into you- So that I can feel- Every little thing with you."

Soul huffed.

Another click.

"VIXX?" Peels of laughter left her again. "Oh, and look at the collars, Soul! Are you serious? Is that going to be a new fashion look for you?"

As if I need more jokes from Black Star about bein' on a leash, Soul sighed.

Another click. "Worship U?"

This was spiraling out of control and Soul's only hope with the insufferable length of her reach was to let his head fall in defeat between her shoulder blades.

"If you think giving up already is going to save you from teasing…" Maka started but the words trailed off, overwhelmed by the song.

"I won't stop, never

Until the end of my life

Don't stop forever

Without wavering like this

Now don't worry, worry, worry

I will protect you-"

The line cut off quickly as Maka clicked again.

Soul's hand tensed around her wrist.

"BTS again." She was trying to laugh but it came out a little too breathy.

"Why is it so dark when you're not here

It's dangerous how wrecked I am

Save me because I can't get a grip on myself"

The arm around her waist pulled, and Maka allowed her back to curl into his chest, the laptop now well within his reach. He moved his head to hover just over her shoulder, eyes on the screen. Instead of grasping for it, his hands were busy on her skin, trying to hold her as much as he was holding the words he'd listened to a million times.

Another click.

"Even though I like you, nobody knows

Even when I see other girls, nobody's like you

I'm sorry for having no courage

You can laugh at me all you want

I'm a loser who loves you

Yes, I'm a misery

To you, I'm a nuisance, I'm an outsider

But in this world, I only need you"

"Don't know why you'd listen to that," Maka murmured. "You're such a cool guy, right?"

Soul couldn't help but feel the sting of it, even if her voice was warbly and barely above a breath.

Another click.

"I won't ever let you go again

I'll hold you, we'll be together forever

I'll cover your beautiful eyes so you won't go anywhere

I'll trap you inside of me"

Say it, Soul wanted to spit out the venom from between his teeth. It's possessive. It's awful. It's too much. That's what it feels like sometimes. Too much. It's selfish.

Instead, in the silence that came with the song cutting off, he got one more click.

"It's the last one."

"After that," he barely squeezed out the words as he pressed his face into her hair, "you gonna leave me alone?"

"If a shadow covers your light

I can't see

I get confused again

It's not like me

But you still smile for me

It's you

Will I be able to protect you?

I'm afraid"

"That was…" Maka forced a long, slow breath. "Soul, it wasn't your nine-hundred-and-third playlist, was it?"

He let out a weak laugh as he started to loosen his hold on her, his hand trying to slip away.

"September third." Maka grabbed his hand on retreat, tangling his fingers with hers. "The day we met, right?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

"And I- I actually have a dimple?"

Soul cleared his throat. "Sorta."

"Sorta," Maka echoed. Suddenly her fingers were clacking on the keyboard, hitting the enter with extra vigor. "I don't have a list, but listen."

"How much time

are you gonna spend worrying? question

I'm preparing to go to war

with the things that bother you, yes sir

My mood changes according to yours

I get so mad when I see you sad

Like a wave crashing on sand, erase it all

Your worries are no more, now only happy days are left"

Maka pushed the laptop forward and out of her hands, the song still trickling along to the chorus as she turned her head over her shoulder. "So, are you going to look at me?"

Soul leaned, letting his eyes meet hers with a searching stare.

"You always protect me." She shook her head softly, tossing his ridiculous worry aside. "And I doubt GOT7 had the kind of protection you offer in mind when they wrote that song." Maka tapped her knuckle below his shoulder where his shirt hid that blaring white scar. "You shouldn't listen to some playlist of boy bands mourning how they can't have the girl they love or they're afraid about treating her right when you do." Green eyes hit his, a plea from them, her soul, and her mouth hitting him in the face, "Tell me you do."

"That I…?"

"Stop worrying, and tell me," Maka murmured, saturated in her own fears even as she was asking him to throw away his.

"It's not just…" He sighed as he flexed his fingers in hers. "It's not just because we're meister and weapon, Maka, it's not-"

"I know," she pressed. "Can you just channel their energy for just one second and be cute and romantic?"

Soul's eyebrows shot up. "But, I-"

"Am bad at this," Maka sighed. "Fine. Soul Evans, if you can't put it into words can you at least-?"

He quickly pressed his lips to her cheek, derailing the rest of her thought entirely. Before his lips had even disengaged, Soul was squeezing his eyes shut, ready for the standard Maka-chop to clobber him into next week. When it didn't come, he knocked his forehead against her shoulder, turning his face to rest it against the warmth of her neck.

Maka reached up awkwardly to run her fingers over his hair, letting out a sweet sigh in the process. "That'll work." She giggled to herself as she reached for the laptop again. "But I want a new playlist. It's better when we make music together, right?"

[proudgodot]

Gratitude

I was not initially planning to post about this, given that my unfortunate tendency to over-share has caused me quite a bit of grief in the past, but the truth is that I simply couldn’t resist this time. Typically when I am overcome by an uncontrollable desire to post it is because I am desperately in need of attention or validation, so much so that I can’t actually remember a time when I posted because I was genuinely eager to share something. It was always out of some perverse and misplaced sense of obligation, but it finally feels as if that burden is lifted. While I was writing this post, it was because I felt a genuine…. pride over something I had accomplished, something I genuinely wanted to share with the world. When I chose the name of this blog I didn’t earnestly expect that I would ever feel anything other than shame about myself… it seemed more an ideal than an actual plausible prediction. I’m just so relieved my wish came true.

Anyway, I suppose that is quite enough navel-gazing for the time being… I can only imagine my followers have probably had enough of that to last a long and fulfilling lifetime. I reckon it’s time to move on to the actual story.

As most of you well know, following the dramatic events of the Kristahlia drama, I suddenly found myself with the new responsibility of parenthood. There are certainly aspects of my new lifestyle that have been difficult to adjust to… principle of which is that I am supposed to serve as a sort of role model for these developing and damaged boys. I have never been particularly aspirational, in fact you would be hard-pressed to find someone as underperforming as me. Although I was prone to overcompensating for such things, always desperately trying to prove that I was capable of as much as the bare minimum, looking back I see that I grew too comfortable with those low expectations. When it registered that as a caretaker I would suddenly have to perform a sort of excellence, not for the sake of my fragile ego but for the betterment of these children… I was immediately overcome by a painful inadequacy. However, as our first week together progressed, I came to realize that in certain regards all of us were personally inadequate, and it was for that very reason we had taken on this responsibility together. Although I certainly had my short-comings, that wasn’t something unique to me, and over time we all began to coordinate better and help manage each other’s weaknesses. I was somewhat surprised to learn this was not only true of the adults, but the children as well. The dynamic we developed as a family was rather symbiotic… I found that regardless of age we all had something to offer each other.

Regardless, I promised myself that I would do whatever it took to keep my found family as distant as possible from my most severe personal issues. My past was something I felt I had to resolve independently, no matter how tempting it was to once again depend on the people in my life to solve my problems in my stead. That is why when I made the decision to start looking into Anton’s whereabouts, I never spoke a word about it to my housemates.

Facebook made finding his account incredibly easy, distressingly so in fact. I became acutely aware of the possibility that he might have been recommended my account numerous times over the years and had consciously chosen not to send me a friend request, which although completely understandable still hurt immensely to imagine. Perhaps my hopelessly romantic dream to reconnect with the man was unrequited, and would be rejected with extreme prejudice if vocalized. Eventually, however, I managed to muster up the courage to actually inspect his profile. I discovered that after our quarrel six years ago and his subsequent transferral Anton had moved back to his hometown in Ann Arbor to complete his degree in art and design. Since graduating, he had been working as a freelance artist and animator… he often posted about how proud of his projects he was, and it was reassuring to see his enthusiasm had not diminished in the slightest over the years. One detail about his profile that immediately jumped out at me was his relationship status, which was currently set to single. Despite myself, I immediately felt a small flicker of hope ignite within my quickened heart. Upon further investigation, it appeared he’d been involved in several relationships over the years that had ultimately ended in failure, although the circumstances were unclear. I only hoped he hadn’t made a habit of dating unappreciative losers…

I managed to quell my anxiety briefly and force myself to send him a friend request, which almost immediately filled me with a sense of mounting dread. My anticipation wasn’t even allowed much time to simmer, because mere minutes after I sent the message I was notified that it had been accepted. Instinctively, I slammed my laptop shut and jumped out of my seat, forgetting that I was incapable of standing up so quickly without losing all feeling in my legs and face planting into the floor. I instantly regretted not taking Addy’s advice and getting that checked by a doctor, because soon enough the entire family was in my room gathered around my body and asking questions with varying degrees of concern and amusement. Although I had wanted to keep my activity a secret, at that moment I was swept away in the drama, and so I began to mindlessly rant about the situation.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but soon enough there were six pairs of hands all frantically scrambling for control of my keyboard. While I laid incapacitated on the floor, my friends had taken it upon themselves to respond to Anton’s messages, each expressing their own thoughts from my account in randomly alternating orders depending on who had managed to prevail in the wrestling. It seemed that Iara maintained the upper hand most of the fight, although it was admittedly difficult to tell over the frenzy at times considering my limited view from the floor.

Eventually, the chaos subsided and everyone turned to look at me with beaming smiles on their faces, some more devious than others. I immediately began to worry that they had sabotaged me somehow, be it in light-hearted jest or in an earnest act of betrayal, and so I asked them nervously what exactly they had done. For a moment it seemed they were trying to contain their excitement, but it didn’t take long for them to erupted into an uproarious celebration, complete with victorious chants that Anton was coming to meet us in person this evening!

I didn’t know how to react. All at once a tempest of conflicting emotions completely overpowered me… and I mean that quite literally. I knocked out cold, and when I finally woke up I discovered that not only had Kyler been trying to shock me awake by applying Takis to my tongue, but that the situation had not miraculously resolved itself. Although everyone else had mostly settled down, my mind was whirling a mile a minute with all of the things I had to do to prepare. I had a whole bucket list I needed to accomplish before I was comfortable standing in front of Anton again… and as much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t possibly get everything done myself over such a brief time. To my surprise, I didn’t even have a chance to put my reservations aside before they had already agreed to help me based off of my panicked listing of errands alone. Despite my reluctance to involve my new friends in the more turbulent aspects of personal life, it seemed they were actually eager to get involved themselves… I discovered that my problems were not an inconvenience to them, but rather something they were excited to help me work through.

The first obstacle I had to overcome was also the hardest… that being that I had never properly apologized to Gabriella and Lana for my dishonest and frankly abusive treatment. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t have the words to express my remorse or that I hadn’t processed my guilt, but that Gabriella’s parting words to me specifically informed me not to contact her and I didn’t want to once again disrespect her wishes. However, after some words of encouragement from the family, I managed to write a relatively concise three thousand word email taking responsibility for my past actions and wishing the couple well. As I was writing this post, I actually received a response from the two telling me they appreciated my apology and were glad to see I had grown into a more mature person. Apparently they have just finished settling into their cottage and are now doing better than ever. Lana even expressed an interest in meeting Addy and Iara in particular sometime… I suppose it’s a sapphic thing. I’m just glad that they’re finally living the happy life they deserve without being held back by backwards men.

My email took longer to type then I had expected, and although I certainly can not regret pouring my heart into the message given its importance, it did mean that we had to pick up the pace with the rest of the bucket list. Kyler took this quite literally, speeding at what must have been 100 miles per hour towards the mall despite nearly giving me a heart attack and my insistence that he not set such a bad example for Chris and Klav. We actually ended up getting pulled over, but luckily Iara managed to scare the officer away with her signature scowl. The next few hours were a frantic rush of errands, all focused on helping me actually express myself without the burden of repression. There were moments when it was a struggle, such as when I nearly hyperventilated in Claire’s before they pierced my ears, but ultimately I am immensely satisfied with the results. The most fulfilling moment was finally getting the tips of my hair bleached white to match my new profile picture. Chris actually got his hair dyed alongside me, changing his style from pale blond to black and white to reflect his new kin. It was incredibly rewarding to accomplish this alongside him… I had never been the subject of anything but disappointment from my parents, so it was an incredible feeling to be able to experience that absent parental pride for myself, even if it was with a different perspective.  

By the time Anton was forecasted to arrive, my appearance had been upgraded to better reflect my current sense of self… all that was left was for me to get in the right mindset. Luckily, my family was perfectly eager to act as my own personal “hype beasts,” as Kyler put it. They offered excellent emotional support in the half-hour we sat in the den patiently awaiting his arrival, especially Addy, who really took my mind off things by offering to play me in a game of chess. I lost quite handedly, but for once I don’t have it in me to be a spoilsport. When we heard that fateful knock at the door, they all immediately ran into the nearest closest and shut themselves inside to give us some space, but not before giving me a final set of encouraging thumbs up. I hesitated for a moment, questioning once again whether I was really ready to take such a big step in my life. My hand paused, hovering over the door knob uncertainly… until I heard the faint sounds of Steely Dan’s Come on Eileen coming from inside the closet, accompanied by the muffled sound of Klav’s giggle. Reignited by the familiar sounds of my favorite musicians, I swung the door open with a new and uncharacteristic conviction.

And there he was… I was immediately captivated by just how strong his presence was. My memories hadn’t done him justice… it really was like I was in the presence of an angel. I was comforted by certain familiar aspects of his appearance, such as his golden brown eyes that glistened like stars, his long curly hair with its comforting strawberry aroma, and his signature checkered scarf that he had been consistently wearing for almost decade now… but what really excited me were those new features. Normally I am turned off by change, but I was positively breathless as soon as my eyes wandered to the golden butterfly tattoo on his exposed shoulder. I felt as if I was going to faint for a second time in one day. 

I couldn’t find the words to express the depths of my emotion no matter how hard I searched my impassioned soul... there were no words strong enough. Instead I just cried, and wordlessly he accepted me into his arms… just like he had on that life-changing night all those years ago. I finally told him everything I had so obstinately refused to say during college… that I was gay, that I was in love with him, and that I was sorry. Although I was openly weeping, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relieved in my life.

Eventually, he managed to pacify me… and so I was able to explain to him the entire story of the Kristahlia drama. It was difficult to explain that I had managed to go from discoursing with these teenage kinnies to adopting them, but he was as understanding as he ever was. He was so excited to meet my family that he even brought his cat Apple all the way from Michigan just to introduce her to them. I don’t think I have ever mentioned this publicly, but when Krissy died I had to take her dog Diogenes in myself, and I was surprised to find that the two animals got along perfectly. It really did feel like the entire house was accepting him... it was as if this was meant to be.

Since Anton had gone to all the trouble of making the ten hour drive to Iowa, he suggested that we might as well all hang out together in Cedar Rapids over the weekend. I suppose it’s a date... I must say that I am looking forward to it, as are the others. I know I didn’t deserve to be accepted by him again just because I spent a few hours shedding tears and profusely apologizing, but for once I don’t feel guilty that I have received something I don’t deserve. I just feel... an overwhelming gratitude for the opportunity.

I am certainly still inexperienced at this whole family business and have accepted that I will inevitably make some mistakes in the future, but I don’t think I’ve done too poorly for a first week, if I do say so myself. I am truly grateful to all the people in my life who have supported me through my journey, who have taught me that it is possible to rely on others without being a parasite and to be relied on without shouldering the entire burden. 

To my partners, my friends, my children, and my love... from the bottom of my heart, thank you. 

[flowerfan2]

To The Lovers

Patrick/David, 1900 words, A03

Summary:  Patrick’s hopes for a romantic reunion when David returns from Elm Valley don’t go exactly as planned.  S05e04 coda.

******

Patrick taps his fingers on his phone and tries to make himself wait a little bit longer before texting David.  He doesn’t want David to know how weird the past twenty-four hours have been for him.

It’s not as if he doesn’t have anyone else he could hang out with.  It’s just that he’d rather be with David.

After work yesterday he tried to keep busy getting ready for his move, but packing his clothes into two suitcases didn’t take long, and most of his stuff was already in boxes in the back of his car or Ray’s basement.  He didn’t bring a lot with him when he took off for Schitt’s Creek, and the most important part of what he found isn’t something that needs to be packed.

Finally he caves, and sends a text to David.  He composes it carefully, for full effect.  

I got some furniture for the new place.  He attaches a photo of a futon with a mustard yellow and bright orange patterned cover.

It doesn’t take long for David to respond.

I thought we agreed I was responsible for the creative side of things?  And where did you find that hideous monstrosity?

Jocelyn’s neighbor had a yard sale.  I got a dining set, too. He attaches another photo.  He’s particularly proud of this one, he spent a long time searching online to find an image of chairs this rickety.

I am 80% sure that you’re kidding, but on the off chance that you’re not, I just googled the town’s policy on disposing of large items and I can schedule a pickup for Thursday.  Any other unfortunate purchases I should add to the list?

Patrick bites his lip.  It’s not even noon, but he can’t bring himself to care.  He just wants to see David. Why don’t you come over and find out?

Now?

Patrick expected a little more enthusiasm, but texting is weird that way. It’s probably nothing.  David just drove back from Elm Valley this morning, maybe he’s not in the mood to hang out. Yeah.  You can help me organize my new step-in closet.

While ordinarily I would jump at the chance, I’m not sure I’m up for it.

The flutter in Patrick’s stomach is growing.  What’s wrong?

I wouldn’t be very good company.  I drank a rather unfortunate amount last night.

Patrick lets out a long breath and forces himself to unclench his jaw.  It’s nothing to get worried about.  David hasn’t thrown him over for someone he met at karaoke the night before.  Patrick just needs to reset his expectations.

Okay, I totally get it.  But if you change your mind and want to escape your family and spend the afternoon in a quiet, drama-free and practically empty apartment, let me know.

David’s almost instantaneous reply makes him the tiniest bit giddy.  I changed my mind.

An hour later, after Patrick runs a few quick errands, he picks David up at the motel and drives him back to the new apartment.  David looks cozy in his thick black sweatshirt and boots, although the way he grimaces at every loud noise indicates just how unhappy he is with the state of the world.

David walks into the apartment and stops in his tracks, spinning around to look at Patrick.  “You have furniture,” he says, waving his hands.

“Yup.”  Patrick hadn’t wanted to wait to get some essentials, primarily a bed and a sofa.

“And it’s not awful.”

“Glad you approve.  You actually picked out the sofa.”

David walks around it.  “I did?”

Patrick laughs.  “More or less.  About a month ago, when we were watching one of those home shows, you said you liked it.  It’s not exactly the same, but-”

David sits down on the couch, running his fingers over the textured gray fabric.  “How did you remember that?”

Patrick shrugs.  “I just did.”

“We need a throw, maybe a brighter color block to work off the neutral of the sofa.  And a narrow coffee table, and at least one more chair.”

“And I thought maybe an area rug by the bed?”  Patrick sits down next to David.  “It’s going to be nice, right?”

David frowns at Patrick, as if Patrick couldn’t possibly be questioning David’s ability to turn this bland space into an aesthetically pleasing environment.  “Of course it’s going to be nice.”

Patrick is glad one of them is sure about it.  He wants David to like this place, especially after the whole mix-up about whether they were going to move in together.  He had actually been thinking they might christen it today, so to speak, but given David’s hangover, that’s probably not going to happen.  Instead, it’s time to put plan B into action.

“How are you feeling?  I’ve got ibuprofen, and apple juice.”

David’s face does that surprised/embarrassed thing, where his dimples sort of pop in and out as if they’re afraid to commit either way.  “I love apple juice.”

“I know.”  Patrick gets up and moves to the kitchen to unpack the groceries.  He pours David a glass of juice and brings it over, together with the bottle of ibuprofen.

David dutifully takes the pills and drinks down the juice.

“Why don’t you get into bed?”  Patrick asks.  “Close your eyes for a while.”

David bites his lip.  “That’s not very sociable.”

“I’ll come with you.  I’ll bring my laptop and go over some work.”

“You sure?”

In response, Patrick stands up and holds out his hand.  David smiles at him, lips pressed together, and follows him to the bed.

“This headboard is nice,” David says, looking it over.  “But we should really paint the wall.  A soft green to go with the gray.  Fern, or willow.”

“Is willow green?”

David glares at him.  “Some willows are green.”

“Okay.”

David sits on the bed and takes off his boots, and then pulls off his black sweatshirt.  He’s got a plain white t-shirt underneath, and Patrick can’t hide the smile that crosses his face when he sees it – it’s one of his own, just a pedestrian Hanes from a three-pack he bought at a department store.

Patrick climbs up on the bed and slings his arms around David.  “I missed you.”

David freezes just for a moment, as if he’s afraid he’s being teased.  “Really?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.  Silly, right?”  

Patrick feels exposed, but David just looks right into his eyes and shakes his head, giving him a softly twisted smile.  “No.  It’s not silly.”  They share a besotted moment, and then David sighs.   “The whole trip was ridiculous.  I didn’t even get to see the cherry blossoms.”

“You told me,” Patrick says.  He’s got a string of texts a mile long from David, all about how Stevie kidnapped him just so she could see Emir again.  “I checked, and they should still be blooming next weekend, if you want to go.  We could get Stevie to work the store for a few hours.”

“You’d come with me?”  David asks, pulling back to look at him.

“Of course.  Looking at the cherry blossoms by yourself would be creepy.”  Patrick smirks at David, who rolls his eyes, and then offers his face to Patrick for a kiss.  Patrick holds David’s jaw with his hands as he kisses him, rubbing his thumb over his stubble.  But they’ve hardly even gotten into it when David groans and flops back on the bed.

“I’m sorry, I feel like crap,” David says, throwing his arm over his eyes.  “Did I mention I had fourteen polar bear shots?”

“You did.  And apparently there was quite a bit of karaoke.  Stevie was impressed.”

“Ugh, she was not.  She didn’t even stay when I offered to sing to her and her loverboy.”

“Huh, how strange.”

David moves his arm off of his face and squints at Patrick.  “I don’t suppose your recent shopping spree included blackout curtains?”  David sounds truly miserable, and Patrick’s heart goes out to him.

“No, I’m afraid not.  I figured I needed your input on textiles.”  Patrick lies down next to David and gently sets his hand on his stomach, rubbing gently.

“Ugh,” David moans.  “This is awful.  I’m never drinking again.”

“I know, baby,” Patrick soothes.  “Just sleep for a while, you’ll feel better.”  He sits up and tugs at the duvet until it’s covering them both, and then lies down next to David, tentatively holding out his arm.  “Come here?”

“Mmm, yes.”  David nestles up against him, his face pressed into the space between Patrick’s neck and shoulder, arm around Patrick’s waist and knee curled up over his thigh.  Instant octopus.

Patrick pets David’s head, and tentatively massages his temples.  “That feels good,” David breathes out. “Keep going.” David doesn’t seem in the least concerned about how Patrick is messing up his hair, just melting against his body and sighing in relief.  

Apparently a hungover David is a cuddly David.  Patrick doesn’t mind in the least.  He likes taking care of David.  He’s not sure many people have bothered to look out for him.  And as Patrick sits there watching David’s face relax and his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, he tries not to think too hard about concepts like in sickness and in health.

When David drifts off to sleep, Patrick realizes the flaw in his plan to get some work done, since he neglected to bring his laptop to bed.  He digs his phone out of his pocket, careful not to jostle David, and pages through emails one-handed for a few minutes.  But David is a warm, inviting weight next to him, and suddenly a mid-afternoon nap sounds like the perfect thing.

He slides down next to his boyfriend, wishing he had thought to take off his sweater, and snuggles in close. His body molds itself to David’s, and David sighs in his sleep, shifting to let Patrick rest his head on David’s shoulder.  

They haven’t spent that many nights together, all told, but it doesn’t seem to matter.  Even from the beginning, Patrick has felt safe in David’s arms.  It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before; they fit together perfectly.  It feels right. Patrick brushes his lips across David’s collarbone and closes his eyes.

He blinks into awareness, coming slowly out of a dream about kissing David under the cherry blossoms. David is still conked out.  Patrick shifts, freeing his arm which has fallen asleep, trapped underneath David’s head.  David snuffles and flops over, tucking himself against Patrick’s side.

In a little while Patrick will get up and start thinking about dinner, but for now he’s more than content to snuggle with David in his new bed, in his new life, one that is more perfect than he could ever have imagined.  Later he’ll give David the little brown envelope that’s sitting on his kitchen counter.  It’s just a key, but he hopes David will understand that it’s more than that.  Patrick thinks he will.  

[queentargary3n]

unfaithful

Summary: Sakura is surprised to see Sasuke is the senior associate of the firm she is supposed to start working for. All of her feelings start to come back 10 years after he abandoned her. Sasuke finds out somethings are truly never behind you, and when he starts falling back in love with her, his past comes to hunt him. Her biggest issue? He is already married

Sasusaku Fanfic AU Lawyers. M  FF.net     AO3

Chapter 7

“So, where are we going?” She whispered on his ear, getting on the back of his Harley, holding her ball gown up her thighs, arms wrapped around his middle, before she pressed a mischievous kiss on his cheek.

“Party’s over, I’m going home” He responded, with a hint of seriousness in his tone she hadn’t heard in quite some time.  

“I’m coming with!” she chirped, then continued on a mocked seductive voice, “you know what they say about graduation”

He scoffed at her implication, “We’ve already had sex before, Sakura” He explained, trying to rid himself of any feelings she was bringing up in him, to get out of going home with her, to remember his plans. Knowing if he waited longer, she’d end up changing his mind and making him stay. That just wouldn’t do.

“Yes, but it’s expected! we might have lost our virginities a loooong long time ago” She explained between drunken giggles, taking another sip of the small flask of alcohol they sneaked into their graduation party. “Still, expected it is, and we shall not disappoint! Come on, my parents are not expecting me tonight”

“Fine, let’s go” He relented. He would have to do this the hard way.

She didn’t even question him when he took roads that lead nowhere near his home or hers, assuming, since it was a special night, they were heading to a hotel or something. But when he pulled over the side of the empty highway, and held her hand into his shaky one, she finally wondered, “Sasuke-kun… what’s going on?”

“I’m leaving” He said sternly.

“Where… why?” She asked, shivering when the cold wind caressed her bare shoulders.

He took off the blazer she had forced him to wear to the party over his jeans and t-shirt, since he’d refused to wear a tux, and wrapped it around her, taking one last selfish moment to kiss her forehead, before getting back on his bike and revving it up to speed away.

“Sasuke-kun wait! please don’t leave…” She screamed behind him. Watching as the lights of his motorcycle faded in the distance, her tears felt cold against her face, clouding her vision from the last glance he gave to her. To the beautiful girl, in a bright shinny gown, whose heart he’d just broken.

She felt lost, scared, and alone in the highway that promised nothing more than a long way home, with no one to come back to her. She didn’t know how much time it passed before she started making her way back, nor did she know how long she walked before she reached the corner of their street, where Sasuke’s now abandoned house stood, dark and imposing as the boy himself.

It was then, as she looked into the former Uchiha household that her sadness turned to anger. The numbness that masked the pain she felt from her bleeding blisters, started to fade away. She took off her heels in anger and threw them at the front facing window of his house.

The sound of shattering glass was so loud, it echoed in her ears even as she woke up from her vivid nightmare. She almost thought someone had broken into her apartment as the sound felt so real, the dream so convincing she actually felt as if she was walked all those hours to reach her home.

Her ability to remember details and facts always surprised other people. Sakura always had a knack for memorizing. But this didn’t feel like remembering, this dream felt as if she was reliving one of the most traumatic events of her life, she thought it must be some kind of karmic punishment.

She was fully awake then, much too early for her liking on that Saturday morning, considering the sun wasn’t even up by then, still she was unable, as much a she tried, to go back to sleep, she thought she might as well take advantage of the early start, thinking of the mountain of documents she had procrastinated in completing during the week, on account of all the drama she had to deal with her new employer.

She also remembered she had pending work in the case Naruto had assigned her to. After her glorious day at court, she received a ridiculous settlement offer for her client, so pathetic it must’ve definably be a delay tactic by prosecutors office, she denied it without consulting either Sasuke or the defendant, still she had to draft a counter proposal, which she had also postponed.  

So, she decided to take a run before that, to get rid of the jitters that had her practically bouncing up and down. She put on her sneakers and took off as fast as she could, trying to leave her anxieties behind with every step. She continued until she felt breathless, and her lungs ached in the wake of that cold morning, she noticed  was closer to the building where the firm was located than to her apartment, by that point she decided it made no sense to go back, if the documents she needed were only a few miles away.

She was covered in sweat by the time she reached the office building, her pink tresses sticking uncomfortably to her neck, she had really pushed herself this time, her legs felt unpleasantly numb, lungs practically burning, she wondered how unprofessional it would be if someone were to see her like that.

Ino had explained to her that the office was mostly empty during the weekends, with the exception of the whichever assistant was scheduled to keep watch. So, she pushed the thought of her disheveled appearance out of her mind, it’s still so early and I’ll definitely just be in and out in a flash, she thought.

The offices were open, but every light was off, and no one was at the front desk, since the clocks were barely hitting 6:30am she paid no mind to it. Turning all the lights on as she stepped in, she made a mental note to bring in some flowers and plants to brighten her office up a little, the minimalistic style was much too sterile for her liking.

She threw herself into her pending work, typing almost furiously a much more decent amount for the settlement of her proposal, being a doctor herself, she knew reputation was very important for a surgeon, so she factored in a public apology from the hospital board to Dr. Senju. She was in the zone, although having to wear business attire and heels every day instead of comfortable shoes and scrubs was annoying, she couldn’t deny the fact that negotiations made being an attorney almost as exciting as performing surgery.

Her flow was interrupted by the sudden appearance of red hair behind her laptop, one hand at her hip, the other one holding her expensive purse, Karin stood right in front of her desk, “What are YOU doing here?” she asked. The way she enunciated YOU brought only one word to Sakura’s head. Vicious.

“Sorry Uchiha-san” Sakura said. “I just had some work to do, I didn’t think anyone was in, I didn’t mean to scare you”

“You don’t scare me” Karin replied, although pleased at how Sakura addressed her by her husband’s last name, she couldn’t help when her insecurities towards the pinkette bubbled up inside of her.

It was Karin’s turn to man the office, and although she usually didn’t, she decided to show up that weekend. She woke up before Sasuke did, her actions keeping her up during the night. She couldn’t bear to look at him, knowing that without an actual reason, she had rat him out and without having anywhere else to go at that time, she showed up at the office on whim. She didn’t expect to see Sakura already at the office, typing away with self-satisfied smile on her face.

“Ah… that’s not what I meant…” Sakura said, a drop of sweat rolling down her forehead.

“Whatever just turn off the lights before you leave” Karin answered before she continued, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, no worries, say hi to Sasuke for me” Sakura told her.

That riled her up. That seemingly innocent comment hit her like a slap to the face, she knew what she was doing, Karin was sure. She was going to destroy everything she had work to build with Sasuke Did she even know what she was doing to her and her husband? She pursed her lips and turned to walked away in anger, the clacking of her heels loud in the empty space.

It occurred to Karin then, that she hadn’t had the opportunity to give Sakura the keys to the office. Of course, for security, the entrance to the practice was controlled by card access with their badges. But if the doors were to be locked from the outside… well.

She only hoped that would send Sakura the message, I know what you’re doing, stay away from my husband or I’ll make your life a living hell. She locked the front glass gate that stood between the lobby and the elevator, where the badge reader was located. Of course, she could still take the back stairs and get out of the building, but with it being a weekend the lights of the staircase would be off, lite only by the red glow of the emergency exit signs. The thought of a scared Pinkette, running down 20 flights of stairs in the dark amused her, reminiscent of the days she worked for Orochimaru. Terrifying people to do one’s bidding was a habit she never quite got rid of.

Sakura continued her work, trying to get the image of Karin practically storming off on her. Was it something I said? She wondered. Once she completed the official counteroffer, she emailed it to Sasuke, Naruto, and Dr. Senju, along with the original proposal, explaining in the body of the email, how insulting the offer was, and that she had, of course, rejected it a soon as it came her way, listing in detail why it was unacceptable in the first place. She only hoped, Sasuke and Naruto wouldn’t be upset at her taking the initiative, being a newly hired employee of the firm.

She then immersed herself into the documents that were required of her, as a newly hired attorney, thousands of pages of contracts, and confidentiality agreements, non-compete clauses that she had to read carefully and sign, and date, and initial, over and over again. Sakura continued up to the point that when raising her eyes, she saw lines of letters ingrained into her sight. The sunset disconcerted her, how many hours had she actually spent reading boring contracts if she arrived even before the sun had risen in the first place? This was supposed to be an in and out thing!

She saved her documents and shut down her computer, finally making her way home from her long and unexpected work hours. She dreaded the fact that she would have to walk back all the way to her apartment, deciding instead to call for a ride. She patted her body in search for her phone, freaking out for a millisecond before she remembered where it was, at home in the purse she failed to grab before going for a run. She sighed at her own forgetfulness, how she could memorize complete volumes of law and medical books but forget to do simple things like bringing her phone with her and locking doors was beyond her.  

Turning off the lights, Sakura walked over to the elevator and tried to push open the glass panel doors that separated it from the lobby. It wouldn’t bulge. What’s going on?!

She walked over to the emergency exit to the stairs, resenting the additional physical activity on her already exhausted body. She tried to push the door open, and again it didn’t move. What the actual FUCK! Emergency exits should never be bloqued!! She thought. What am I going to do? Great day to forget you phone Sakura.

X

Sasuke woke up to a killer hangover, lips parched painfully, eyes refusing to adjust to the sunlight, his usual migraine amplified to the thousandth. He stood up from the living room couch where he had passed out the night before, his neck was sore from having slept in a weird position, as nice as the black leather couch was, an expensive purchase made by Karin, it didn’t actually made a comfortable seat, let alone makeshift bed.

He marched to the kitchen, dragging his bare feet on the cherrywood floors, and drank as much water as he could stomach to soothe his hangover thirst. The apartment seemed eerily quiet. Although the flat was large enough for both of them to do their respective activities without  interrupting the other’s, he always managed to catch some kind of noise from his wife, be it the tv from her bedroom, or the inessive buzzing from her always incoming text messages and calls, still the apartment was completely silent, which meant she was not home.

Downing a couple aspirin for his headache and grabbing pajamas and fresh sheets from the linen closet, he went into his home office and laid down on the couch in there, much softer and comfortable than the living room’s, but still not a bed. He thought it was about time he purchased a bed for himself, given they almost never sleep in the same one, even less willing now that he found out about her bedroom activities. He always thought it disrespectful, buying a second bed when his wife expected him on the same room, but he figured it didn’t matter much now.

He looked up at the ceiling, trying and failing to close his eyes and go back to sleep. He remembered the night before with the kind of accuracy he could expect from how drunk he was. Still, a couple of things stood up, the soft touch of Sakura’s fingers coating his cheek with ointment, the shy look in her eyes as she very unexpectedly apologized, her so very beautiful laugh when he, much to his own sober embarrassment, requested her to call him ‘Sasuke-kun’.

She made him feel as if the last 10 years hadn’t happened, like no time had passed and they were just two teenagers together. The feeling of a thousand birds in his stomach, brought by thinking of her, prevented him from relaxing and going to sleep like he initially wanted.

So, he undressed again, putting on a pair of jeans and t-shirt and made plans for his day, go out and get something to eat, call his trainer and get some much needed time at the gym, and then if he had the energy for it, get some work done. He grabbed his training bag and headed out from the apartment. The sun at its highest point indicated that he had sleep past noon, despite of how tired he actually felt.

By the time he was done training, martial arts being the only thing that ever truly relaxed him, he sat in the parking smoking a cigarette, the clock marking already 7 pm, and for the first time in the day looked over at his phone. Lot’s text messages from Naruto, as he expected, mostly containing things like pictures from his baby boy doing something cute, an email from Sakura titled settlement offer and counteroffer and missed call from the office.

She must have some problem with the proposal and finally decided to get help… he thought. It wouldn’t hurt to go into the office now and catch up with the case.

He didn’t like to be out of the loop, especially considering how public this case already was. He drove to the building, expecting to find it dark and empty as it usually was during the weekends.

He nodded in greeting to the only security guard on site and made his way toward the firm. Walking out of the elevator and opening the locked glass gate, he noted how the only light on was coming from his own office, he didn’t give it much thought before he went over and encountered a sight, he was sure to never forget.

Sakura was on the floor of his office, dressed in tight leggings and a lose shirt that hung loosely around her chest and revealed her stomach and tiny sports bra. She was bent over, pink locks hanging above her head and reaching the floor, legs straight displaying her backside to him, in a position he vaguely recognized as a yoga pose.

He almost choked on his own saliva at the sight. He coughed to clear his throat, causing the pinkette to lose balance and drop to the floor startled.

“Sasuke-kun!! I’m so glad you’re here!” She yelled, jumping back to her feet and readjusting her shirt, before she practically threw herself at him, hugging him in excitement, to which he only froze. He could feel the heat spreading to the back of his neck, needless to mention the heat in other areas at the contact.

“Sa.. sa… Sakura, what are you doing…” He stuttered, unable to gather his thoughts.

“Sorry, I took a nap and your office is the only one that has a couch, but it was so uncomfortable, I was just stretching now” She answered taking a step back in embarrassment at her own reaction. She was just so relieved to be saved from actually spending the night in.

Still unclear with that explanation, he asked, “But why are you here?”

“Am… I came over to do some work, but I was locked in… I couldn’t leave… The emergency exit is locked too! Such a hazard by the way!” She offered in return.

“The front door doesn’t lock from the inside” He asked in confusion, someone else had to lock the door from the outside for her to become trapped in.

“Yeah… Karin was here, she must have locked the door by mistake” Sakura explained, since it had happened to her a couple of times, locking doors by mistake when your head is somewhere else, was something that happened to Sakura all too often, especially on her car. Even so, she couldn’t shake the feeling she had pissed off Karin for some reason, maybe Sasuke told her about how she punched him right in the face a couple of days ago, maybe she was annoyed because she was expecting an apology too.

Sasuke only sighed in response. He pinched the bridged of his nose in annoyance. Why his wife felt the need the need to do things like this he never knew.

“And you’re okay?” He asked, bringing the subject back to the matter at hand. “Why didn’t you call anyone?”

“I did! I called the security office, no one answered, it’s terrible by the way if this were a real emergency, someone could’ve gotten hurt, lawsuit waiting to happen!” She responded, causing a confused look from Sasuke. “I called anyone whose phone I have memorized, but no answers, and I forgot my phone at home too”

Sasuke pulled out his phone, remembering the missed call he had from the office earlier. “You called me too?” He asked her.

“Yeah… I didn’t actually have your cellphone so….” She said, and Sasuke noticed how her face went blue all of the sudden, sweat dropping off her forehead. “I found your card in one of your drawers” Sakura told him, pointing at his desk.

“You went through my desk?” Sasuke asked her, a small smile playing on his face that betrayed the annoyed tone he was trying to portray. She must have not noticed thought, since her cheeks blushed scarlet red as she fiddled with her thumbs and started to explain.

“Yes… Sorry I was desperate! I didn’t know what else to do! It was the only thing I saw I promise!”

Sasuke was amused at her embarrassment, he couldn’t look at her with a straight face as she was muttering excuses about how his business card was the first thing she saw when opening the desk drawer, and how she didn’t look into anyone else’s. It made him glad, since while it would’ve made much more sense to look into Yamanaka’s desk for phone numbers, she only thought of him when she needed help, but he didn’t voice those thoughts, instead he asked, “How long have you been here?”

“Since 6am… I didn’t actually notice I was locked in until a few of hours ago thought, I was reading over some materials and got distracted”

It was so like Sakura to get engrossed in reading and forget about everything else. He couldn’t remember how many times she was late to see him back in the day, because she forgot to get ready while reading some romantic novel she was so engaged in.

“Let’s go then” He said, noticing how late it was.

“Yeah, yup, sure” She stuttered, walking out by his side, staying quiet to avoid embarrassing herself again. She always did say too much when she was with him. His presence completely intimidating as always.

Walking out to the parking lot, he looked around trying to find Sakura’s car among the few left in the building. “How did you get here?” He asked her, already informed that she didn’t bring her phone to call herself a ride.

“Am… I ran” She explained. “I was trying to get some exercise this morning, and I was closer here than to my apartment so…”

“You’ve had quite day” He said, trying to sound as uninterested as he could manage.

“Yeah, no, it wasn’t so bad… I wasn’t” Sakura began, but was interrupted by the loud growling of her empty stomach.

Sasuke chuckled quietly at the sound. “You haven’t eaten” He said, again a statement not a question. He pulled her by the arm, taking her hostage to his car. “Let’s go get you something to eat” He insisted when his pull met resistance.

“I’m fine! I had like 8 cups of coffee” She said.

“Sakura, you’re a doctor, you know skipping meals isn’t healthy” He reprimanded, speaking as if to a small child.

Sakura pouted her lips, she didn’t like to be talked down to. Still she relented, walking over to the passenger side of Sasuke’s car, before that last sentence really resonated in her head. “How did you know that?”

“Know what?” Sasuke asked, already getting inside of his car.

She got inside too, and continued in return, “That… I’m a doctor?”

“Oh… Naruto told me” He mentioned awkwardly. He didn’t want to tell her that most of his conversations with Naruto, and late-night internet searches of late involved only a certain aggressive Pinkette. “When you got hired, for background proposes”

And that was the end of that conversation, with Sakura strangely engrossed in her thoughts while Sasuke mostly basked in the comfortable silent they fell in.

He took her to a fancy restaurant in the middle of downtown, with people mostly dressed in expensive looking dresses and suits. She felt terribly underdressed, with her leggings and lose shirt, that had not too long ago been drenched in sweat. She looked over at Sasuke, who just stood waiting for the maître d to get them to their seats, he was dressed casually in a white v neck shirt and jeans, but he looked stunning, like he someone you would see in the cover of some magazine.

The maître d and waitress definitely noticed, eyeing him down every chance they got, hearts practically shinning in their eyes, as they were handed the menu, which Sasuke took from her hands and returned it to the waitress without letting her look.

“The house steak and cherry tomato salad for the both of us, then the anmitsu for her” He told the waitress without ever looking at her.

“Yes sir” The waitress said, but not before over at Sakura with disgust on her face. Definitely wondering what I’m doing in the presence of someone as handsome as he. Sakura thought.

“Don’t you think I might have wanted to order something different?” She told Sasuke in reproach.

“Do you not like what I ordered…?” He asked, his face completely bank of emotion. He specifically remembered anmitsu being her favorite food, if you could call a bunch of sugar actual food.

“That’s not what I said… just why are you so… bossy?”

“Do you not like it that I’m bossy?” He asked in teasing, flashing her a dashing smirk that made her skin feel tingle. “Besides, aren’t you the one who’s always calling me Boss?”

“Well yeah…” She said, confused by Sasuke’s actions. One day he is amicable but professional, the next day he’s all angry and quiet, frankly an asshole, calling her names and accusing her of sleeping with Naruto, and then seems concerned about her, taking her out to eat and teasing her, some may even call it flirty.

“Have you been diagnosed with bipolar disorder?” Sakura asked suddenly, amazed at her own boldness.

“You’re really annoying you know that?” He told her, “And rude, why would you even ask that”

“Well… because I’m a doctor, and your displaying symptoms commonly associated with multiple personalities” She explained, admittedly she was rude in asking, still his changes in mood definitely gave her whiplash.

“No” Sasuke answered seriously, then stop as the waitress brought down their meal, and asked in a much too friendly manner if there was anything else she could bring him, which he turned down without a pause.

“Eat” He ordered.

“Thanks…” She muttered taking a bite of a small piece of meat, before she glanced over at Sasuke starting with his salad.

“Here, let me” She took his plate from in front of him, and started to cut down the steak for him. She didn’t even know why he’d order something he would have a hard time eating without even asking the waitress to bring it already cut.

“I can do that on my own” He protested but made no move to take the plate back from her.

“I know” She answered non chillingly. “But I want to help”

“Hn” was the only sound he made in return as she handed his plate back.

“So… how did you lose it?” Sakura asked quietly, busying her hands with her salad.

“Lose what?” Sasuke asked, expecting some snarky comment like ‘your mind’, he was well aware of how he’d treated her on the last few days.

“Your arm… I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, I was just curious” She said, waving her hand dismissively, noticing the change in Sasuke’s expression.

He took a moment to consider if he wanted her know the whole story about his arm. Deciding instead to spear her the gory details of his tainted past, he said, “Motorcycle accident, 8 years ago”

Sakura figured that’s all he wanted to say in the matter, so she didn’t press. They continued eating in silence until they finished their dinner, with Sasuke observing Sakura attentively while she made pleasing faces and sounds at the taste of her desert.

Sasuke requested the check, which was promptly brought by the heart-eyed waitress. Sakura look at him with a smile on her face, sugar did put her in a much better mood, he noticed, and extended her hand to take the bill, Sasuke handed it without saying anything but still handed the waitress his credit card.

Sakura only shook her head in disapproval, she opened the check, mentally noting how much she owed for her meal, fully intending to pay Sasuke back for it, when she noted the phone number written down by the waitress. Bold she thought, took the piece of paper and placed in her pocket.

They both got back in the Sasuke’s car and drove away to Sakura’s place.

“You didn’t have to do that you know” She said, trying to look at the road instead of looking at his handsome face.

“It’s nothing” He muttered.

“You didn’t even look at the bill… even after the waitress put so much thought in it” Sakura said in between giggles and placing the check in his hand.

“What?” Sasuke asked in confusion, parking in front of Sakura’s building, taking the paper she was offering and looking at the loopy handwritten phone number. “Bold” He commented.

“Hahaha that’s what I thought too… You’re as popular as always” Sakura said, hand in her face trying to cover her giggles.

“I guess you would know” He told her, sporting his trademark smirk.

“You’re right, maybe I should go back there and give her the link to your fan girl website, wouldn’t want to leave her without the pleasure of your godly image”

He chuckled at her joke, Sasuke’s laughs where rare and infrequent even when he was younger, and they never failed in giving Sakura goosebumps and butterflies in her stomach.

“I really like your laugh” She confessed. “It always does things to my stomach, maybe that’s why I’ve never been able to forget about you”

He instinctively reached out for her arm, pulling her in and clashing his lips against hers. Sakura was stunned for a second before she returned his kiss, pressing gently against his lower lip, her mouth slightly open.

He took advantage to the parting of her lips to begin to kiss her more assertively, his tongue fighting hers for dominance. She reached to grab a handful of inky locks at the nape of Sasuke’s neck and pulled, her kiss almost as aggressive as his.

It was as if he awoke a hunger that she didn’t know still existed inside of her. She needed to get closer, closer until there was no more space between them. She bit his lower lip playfully, to which Sasuke responded only with a predatory growl.

He moved down to the crook of her neck, kissing and biting the tender skin, leaving his mark on her, encouraged by the pleasured gasps that escaped her lips.

“Sakura…” He whispered in her ear before leaving another love bite under it.

That brought her back to reality. She pushed him as hard as she could after she reprimanded with a strong “NO” and got down from the car, slamming the door loudly and running away to the protection of her apartment.

[leonesvigiliae]

there had been a time when he had thought he’d never escape his childhood, that he would be trapped back in that dismal cabin with a father hellbent on his own agenda & blinded to reason. that time had come in gone - he had carved his own path & left his past behind in favor of a new life on the other side of the pond. moving in with his mother had been the single best thing he had done for himself. he hadn’t meant to get himself caught up in the alternative music scene, he’d just been out for a drink with his sister & one of her friends to celebrate his imminent graduation when he’d run into a band down on their luck after the loss of their young singer. a few rounds later, they’d convinced him to at least swing by the studio to audition & he’d foolishly agreed.

       that had been a few years & a few thousand miles ago. now he lived & breathed NEW YORK CITY. sliding into the identity as PHAESPHOROS’ lead singer had been easy enough, but it would seem his publicist disagreed. ‘ you need a signature LOOK, morgenstern. ’ ah, yes. a look. ‘ luckily for you, i know someone. ’ everyone in this city KNEW SOMEONE. that was how the magic happened - the networking, connections made & grown behind closed doors. even so, he had heard good things about the designer, even if the waitlist was almost intimidatingly long. he shifted a bit, checking the directions on his phone as he hefted the portfolio clary had sent with him - little sketches his sister had put together to serve as nothing more than ideas to go off of for whatever look this designer might be able to craft.

     the storefront was surprisingly small but it felt cozy - even INTIMATE, really, & he slid the phone back in his pocket. ‘ hello, ’ he murmurs, the hint of his accent curling over his words as he takes the place in. ‘ nice to finally meet you, ’ he offers with a small smile, sliding his sunglasses through the front of his shirt. ‘ i’m jonathan morgenstern, my manager had emailed you? i appreciate you taking the time for me to come in. ’

business had been booming for the most part and evie didn’t think she could keep up as well as she had ( then again , that is what no sleep and an endless supply of coffee did for the girl ) . she had received the email for some work about a week prior and she had taken a look at it and penciled it in at the time as she had the afternoon free . however in normal fashion , she had forgotten all about it when she got a rush of alterations for a bridal party the night before . she had been working on them and she had even cancelled everything else as this was a huge deal for her since the dresses were for an A - list actress and her bridesmaids . 

in fact , she hardly heard the small bell she had attached to the door ring and by the time she noticed , she heard the voice and her gaze lifted from her drafting table and took in the man who stood before her . 

“ -- oh ! hello ! “ the blush crept up her face as she usually was better than this at noticing people . she stood and pushed the glasses up to sit atop her head and she came around to properly greet him , dainty hand outstretched . “ it is a pleasure to meet you , mr . morgenstern . “ always professional , at least in her shop the smile spread wide across ruby lips . “ she did , and i even had you booked for the afternoon . i apologize , usually i am so much better than this . and you’re very welcome . she did send some specifics , but we can go over that soon . would you like something to drink ? “ she motioned to the small table , “please take a seat while i clean up a bit . “ 

@idumean ​ finally gets an answer to this post from 2872637236 years ago from evie !

[acrostical]

Safe Haven

On December 8, 1941—the day after “a date which will live in infamy”—then-president Aurelia Henry Reinhardt wrote a letter to all Mills families. With the hindsight of nearly 80 years, it’s a surreal read; the main point of the letter was not to offer solace or organize war efforts, but to reassure parents that the Mills campus was unlikely to face any danger from a Japanese attack. “The English Channel is 26 miles wide; New York is 3,500 miles from Europe; California is 5,500 miles from Japan and 2,500 miles from our nearest possession in the Hawaiian group,” she wrote. “May I assure you that there exists no reason to change in any way the schedule and curriculum of this college in the spring term which begins Monday, January 5.”

At that point, no one knew that many students of Japanese descent would soon opt to leave Mills, hoping to avoid separation from their families as they were forced into internment camps across the United States. In the years leading up to World War II, President Reinhardt had approached a number of European artists and intellectuals to offer them a place at Mills as the Third Reich marched across the continent and sent to concentration camps anyone it deemed a threat, including Darius Milhaud and other notable figures in the College’s history, but that welcoming spirit couldn’t protect some of her own students.

When it comes to political and cultural forces outside the campus gates, the College has historically been limited in what it can do to protect its students. But as an institution, Mills has long welcomed members of marginalized communities, and outside restrictions have not altered the campus culture of acceptance.

In recent years, the term “sanctuary” has become a buzzword in our charged political environment. But in a historical sense, the concept originated with the sacred. In ancient Greece, spaces that honored the gods provided some measure of immunity to individuals escaping laws of the state (with limited success), and in Rome, Romulus established a zone on Capitoline Hill where asylum seekers from other places could find refuge. For centuries, places of worship have operated as spaces where people could take shelter, and it’s still happening today—churches around the world house migrants seeking to avoid deportation back to war-torn homelands.

The idea of sanctuary gained popularity in the United States in the 1980s when Central Americans began to flee their home countries in the wake of civil unrest, but Mills took on the responsibility of offering it 60 years earlier in the early days of World War II. In the 1961 book Aurelia Henry Reinhardt: Portrait of a Whole Woman, Chaplain George Hedley wrote that President Reinhardt contacted the Emergency Committee in Aid of Displaced German Scholars (later Foreign Scholars) to invite intellectuals to Mills as soon as Hitler took power in Germany in 1933. Hedley noted that legends were told of Reinhardt physically transporting those scholars to campus herself.

A number of professors soon made their way to Oakland, including Alfred Neumeyer, who taught art history and directed what was then the Art Gallery, and the married couple Bernhard Blume and Carlotta Rosenberg. A German playwright, Bernhard headed up the German Department at Mills until 1945, and Rosenberg was a proponent of educating workers and women.

Of course, the most well-known Mills expats were the musician Darius Milhaud and his wife, Madeleine. In speaking with the author Roger Nichols in 1991, Madeleine detailed her family’s reaction when the Nazis entered Paris in June 1940: “We knew… that Milhaud was among the first on a list of intellectuals to be arrested because he was well known in Germany as a Jewish composer, and also because he did not share their right-wing ideals.”

The Milhauds made their way to Lisbon with plans to fly to New York, using an invitation from the Chicago Symphony Orchestra to obtain visas. But upon arrival in Portugal, their plane tickets were declared invalid because they had been bought with French francs. The three—Darius, Madeleine, and their son—were just about to board an American freighter to cross the Atlantic when a telegram arrived with an offer to teach at Mills. The San Francisco-based French conductor Pierre Monteux had contacted President Reinhardt after learning that Milhaud was fleeing to America and connected the two.

Milhaud cabled his acceptance of the position and, a few months after arriving on campus, Dean of Faculty Dean Rusk (later US Secretary of State during the Vietnam War) wrote to the State Department to plead his case for Milhaud’s continued residency in the United States, which hinged on his history of contribution to the arts. Milhaud taught on and off at Mills from 1940 until 1971.

Milhaud’s influence on the Music Department (and the rest of the College) is well known, though he was not the only academic who molded Mills in indelible ways during this time. Helene Mayer, a champion German fencer at the 1928 Olympics, was studying at Scripps College when Hitler rose to power in her home country. She then enrolled at Mills for a master’s in French. While on campus studying for her MA and, later, teaching German literature, she founded the Mills College Fencing Club, jump-starting an organization that lasted for decades. And it’s to the credit of these scholars that the German Department at Mills built a strong enough foundation to eventually send many of its students abroad as Fulbright scholars.

The situation with students of Japanese descent was not nearly as easy to solve, however, with President Franklin D. Roosevelt establishing internment camps less than three months after the Pearl Harbor attack.

Alumnae who were at Mills during the attack remember that day as a sunny one, with word of the incident filtering in as they arrived back in their residence halls after Sunday chapel service. Japanese American students soon found their freedoms curtailed bit by bit, starting with an Army-ordered curfew that restricted their movement even on the Mills campus.

May Ohmura Watanabe ’44, who was born in California to American citizens, wrote about her experiences in multiple issues of the Quarterly. “I remember Dr. Hedley, the chaplain, was very upset and angry. I can still feel his hand tightly holding mine, his body slightly bent forward as he hurried to look at the curfew proclamation posted on the telephone pole just outside the campus,” she wrote in 1985. “He even took me to the Army’s headquarters in San Francisco to protest and to state his disbelief. All in vain.”

Watanabe soon left Mills and returned home to Chico so that she wouldn’t be sent to a different internment camp than her parents and brother. She spent a year at the Tule Lake Relocation Center near the Oregon border, then was released as part of a program allowing some detainees to work or attend school in special approved zones. Watanabe was allowed to transfer her credits to Syracuse University, where she studied nursing. “I remember the special arrangements Mills made for me before evacuation to take my exams in Chico supervised by my high school dean,” she wrote.

The late Grace Fujii Kikuchi ’42 made a similar choice to leave Mills to avoid separation from her family. As a senior, she was more easily able to bring her time at Mills to a close, though it wasn’t a happy time. “My professors at Mills had arranged for me to take my [exam] at a nearby high school,” she wrote in the same Quarterly issue. “All I know is that I was graduated in absentia with my class. Not to be able to attend my commencement after four hard years of work was a bitter disappointment to me.”

The frustrations of the Mills administration during this era were captured in a play by Catherine Ladnier ’70, which she based on actual letters President Reinhardt received from students who left the College due to World War II, including Japanese American students in internment camps. Titled A Future Day of Radiant Peace, the play details the personal turmoil these students experienced as they abandoned their bustling lives at Mills for the uncertainty of the camps. It also demonstrates what little power anyone on campus had to prevent the exodus.

In the aftermath of the war, however, Mills was able to provide sanctuary to several students whose home countries were suffering. Catherine Cambessedes Colburn ’47 and Noramah Sumakno Peksopoetranto ’56 traveled to the College from France and Indonesia, respectively. In the spring 1997 issue of the Quarterly, Colburn wrote about the strangeness of going from a country recovering from war to a land of plenty.

“Mills had sent a list of what I would need, and I owned next to none of the items, nor could I get them. Coupons, given out rarely, were required to buy anything. Besides, the stores were next to empty,” she wrote. “I exchanged my wine ration with a friend for her fabric coupon and my cigarette ration with another for hers, and got enough material for two clothing items.”

Peksopoetranto earned her opportunity to attend Mills through a one-year scholarship from the Edward H. Hazen Foundation. At the end of the year, Dean Anna Hawkes offered her room and board for a bachelor’s degree in education; she spent that summer staying in the home of Librarian Elizabeth Reynolds.

On October 29, 2018—two days after 11 were killed in a shooting at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania—President Elizabeth L. Hillman sent an email to the Mills community. In it, she harkened back to the College’s history of providing sanctuary to Jewish scholars during World War II and the inspiration they provided to generations of students. “Higher education institutions like Mills have a special role to play in creating and sharing knowledge across boundaries of faith, race, gender, and background,” she wrote. “We can only fulfill our mission when everyone in our community is safe, respected, and able to grow and learn.”

In the last few years, President Hillman has sent a number of similar emails to the campus community after attacks, in the United States and abroad, that have targeted historically marginalized groups. According to Dean of Students Chicora Martin, the typical campus response finds its roots in Mills history. “Whenever an incident happens, we’re among a community where people may not always know what to do, but they are prepared to do something,” they said. “It’s part of our culture.”

“In times of immense crisis and identity-based violence, there is this depth of emotion and despair, but also a desire to be in community,” says Dara Olandt, campus chaplain and director of spiritual and religious life. “It has been very moving for me to see the ways in which students have offered leadership and shown up for each other.”

Olandt attributes the campus-wide attitude of acceptance and protection to the College’s past religiosity—in particular, President Reinhardt was the first woman moderator of the American Unitarian Association. (Olandt herself was ordained by the Unitarian Universalist church.) The chapel “is a refuge, and a place of deep hospitality. That’s what the forebears [who created] this chapel were really about,” Olandt says. “There’s power in this symbolic place where people are welcome in the fullness of their lives, no matter their identities.”

She also counsels those who travel to Mills from outside the country and hail from distinctly different societal and religious backgrounds than their US-born peers. That demographic has naturally been part of the student body for decades, but provides a different set of challenges due to the requirements of F-1 and J-1 student entry visas. Dean Martin serves as the principal designated school official on the Mills campus, so they are the first point of contact for the US government. “Every year, we have someone who can’t make it here because they can’t get a visa,” they say. “There are lots of restrictions with international students, and there’s a lot of documentation that you have to provide just for them to do normal-ish things, like getting a Social Security card or a driver’s license.”

Over the last four years, the legal status of undocumented students has been called into question across the country, and as a Hispanic Serving Institution, Mills has been prompted to respond. Under the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program, which began in 2012, undocumented immigrants who arrived in the US before they turned 18 could be granted renewable two-year periods where they would not be deported. When Donald Trump was elected to the presidency, he pledged to end the program—and set off a chain reaction at colleges and universities across the country, which became known as the “sanctuary campus” movement.

On November 16, 2016, President Hillman was one of hundreds of signatories to the Statement in Support of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) Program, which underscored the contributions that its recipients have made to college communities across the country. “America needs talent—and these students, who have been raised and educated in the United States, are already part of our national community,” the statement reads. “They represent what is best about America, and as scholars and leaders they are essential to the future.”

Hillman also joined with more than two dozen college leaders in December 2017 as founding members of the Presidents’ Alliance on Higher Education and Immigration, which advocates for fair treatment of DACA and international students, and she continues to contribute to amicus briefs compiled by the alliance on behalf of DACA students.

In practical terms, Martin says that Mills provides grants to affected DACA students to cover the legal paperwork required to renew their statuses, and the College will provide financial assistance to any undocumented student in the same amount the student would have received from a Pell Grant, which is a federal program and therefore off-limits to non-citizens.

But in terms of sanctuary? If immigration officials asked Mills to turn over student records, the College is theoretically protected by the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act (FERPA), which prohibits the disclosure of student information, including immigration status, to parties beyond those that need to know for the purposes of that student’s education. Nothing like that has happened yet, but administrators say that it’s really not the point. The last few years have, in the end, cemented the kind of institution Mills wants to be.

“We were asking questions about our own values. The government’s now actively not supporting [these] students, so we have to come out very strongly with concrete statements and actions that clarify for our community where our values lie,” Martin says.

“Aurelia Reinhardt was deeply motivated by her values, which had roots in her religious and spiritual background,” Olandt adds. “She was very much anchored in a spirit of service and what we call today solidarity with marginalized folks. How can we uphold the best of humanity and live a moral and ethical life in the face of challenge?”

[the-writerly-night-owl]

To Make Things Right

Mother of the Year/ Thomas Mendez x MC 

Summary: After getting bogged down with so many bills and the trial, Gloriana Day turns to one person that she hopes will help her. Her dad. She might need a little moral support from Thomas along the way, its even better when things get a little heated. 

Authors note: I was really curious to know why her dad was never mentioned. So I figured Grandpa day to the rescue sort of. They mention pretty casually where MC went to high school so I’m guessing close ish but not where they need to be. Plenty of Thomas x MC too where there’s a slightly steamy scene at the end. Enjoy! 

Gloriana Day calmly went into the law firm with a heavy heart. Her day had not gone well so far in the job search. She actually went to places to put paper applications in until it hit her. This was the day that things were going to change. Hopefully for the better.

“Is Thomas in?” asked Gloriana to the secretary as he looked surprised to see her. After a quick phone call, she was allowed in with Thomas waiting for her.

She had to love his office, she thought, as she closed the door behind her. It was big with windows that over looked a park. The dark furniture stood out with tons of law books on the shelves. From his seat Thomas was studying her a concerned look on his face. He had pushed away what he was working on minus a few things that needed attention.

“Gloriana is everything okay?” he asked alert with a legal pad and pen in front of him.

Sighing she nodded. “Everything is fine, it’s just that I got an email about paying the psychologist,” she said nervously starting out.

“Oh, if you need to borrow money,” said Thomas rummaging around in a drawer.

“It’s not… Well it is borrowing money but not from you. Um, oh gosh this is so hard to say.”

Shakily she took her phone out of her pocket as Thomas curiously watched her. Then perched herself at the edge of the chair.

“Breathe, everything will be okay,” he said starting a breathing exercise himself while she followed along. “Now what’s this about borrowing money?”

Her mind going a mile a minute before she could swallow any pride and dignity that she had left in her. This was going to be hard to do especially since it had been so long.

“I’m going to call my dad,” she said letting it all rush out. “Only thing is I haven’t talked to him since I married Guy. He never approved of him and for good reason looking back. I’m just afraid of what he’s going to say or asking for money would be wrong. I came here wondering if you’d just sit with me as I did it.”

Finally, able to breath normal again she watched Thomas’s face. He looked surprised for a minute and then relaxed into a smile. Getting up from his desk Thomas took the chair next to hers and faced her. Gently he took her hands and pulled her into a hug.

“Of course, I know how hard it can be. Um, Soldedad’s parents have been hard for me to talk to. I know it’s not the same, but I understand moral support. Besides if you can go all lawyery on him and just know that you have a friend here.”

Gloriana felt her smile grow a little and raised an eyebrow. “Just a friend?” she teased.

Thomas stuttered for a moment before shaking his own head. “Okay you got me. Just call okay? The worst he could say is no.”

Nodding her head Gloriana dialed the number she last knew that he had. He still lived in her childhood home and he even kept her room the same as it was when she was a teenager. Smiling she gripped his hand until they heard the line pick up on the other end.

“Hello,” said the voice of her father Michael Day.

Thomas gripped her hand and nodded.

“Dad?” she said.

“Gloriana? It’s so good to hear from you, is everything okay?”

Smiling at Thomas she told him everything that was going on. How she had divorced Guy, but she had a daughter now. What Lucia was like and just how smart she was. They had moved to Goldcliffe which was only about a half hour away from him now. What was even more amazing was how her dad asked the right questions and sounded very enthusiastic. Gloriana could imagine her dad sitting on his favorite chair with some team playing on the tv in the background.

Then finally telling him why she was calling.

“Dad, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to call you just to ask for money, but I didn’t know what else to do. I know that you raised me to stand on my own and not depend on you so much,” she said tears streaming down her cheeks. She really didn’t care what the PTA would think if they found out she got money from her father.  Thomas rubbing her back soothingly as she wiped it away from her face.

There was a long pause from the other end of the phone.

“You’re done with Guy right?” he asked.

“I never want to see his face again as long as I live if I can help it.”

What was weird was that she could hear him smiling on the other end of the line. “Good,” he said doing something on the other end while she heard him hum. “Thomas, you sound like a great guy, I give you all kinds of permission to marry my daughter if you wish.”

Color flooded to her cheeks while burying her face in her hands hiding a tiny smile. She glanced at Thomas who had paused and looked like one of Lucia’s red marker a pleased smile on his face as well. 

“Okay,” he squeaked.

“How much is it?” asked Michael as Gloriana told him the amount. It was just around three paychecks from her job. “Alright Gloriana, I have the money to help you out.” Her heart leapt in her chest with glee before squeezing Thomas’s hand. “However, I want you to move back into the house. Lucia’s school is only a half hour away, you just have to drive her. That way you can save some money, so you don’t have to pay rent. I could use some help around here.” 

Gloriana looked at her phone wonder why he would want her back. Thomas brought her back to reality as he rubbed her back. Then gave her a thumbs up as a gesture to take the offer.

“I can do that, you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“I’m just glad to have you back and away from Guy. I’m glad you realized just how terrible he really is. Now Thomas I have something that might help with this case. You see I’ve kept all the emails Gloriana was sending her mother saying just how bad he was before she passed. Including a day where you mentioned that he hit you when you got in a fight.”

Thomas rounded on her an angry and stunned look on his face.

“You didn’t tell me he hit you. I’ll beat him up for that,” said Thomas getting livid at the mere mention of that night. “It will definitely help in this case; can you print those Mr. Day?”

“Oh, call me Mike but of course. I also know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy that tried suing his snack company but got bribed off. If I can figure out his name, I’ll send him your way.”

Gloriana remember that day he had assaulted her. It was terrible but she had just brushed it off as somethings that happened in fights. This was almost too easy but then again moving Lucia wasn’t going to be a picnic. Finding a job was tough with a commute like that. Plus she had extra chores on top of the normal ones she had to do. 

Her dad and Thomas made a plan together which just made her smile. Things were finally letting up and this a good sign, right? 

“I love you dad,” she said, “And I’ll tell Lucia you said hello.” 

“I love you too sweetheart. I can’t wait to meet her.” 

Finally, the phone call ended with Thomas staring at her long and hard. She wished she told him this stuff earlier but things just got so complicated. About to apologize she turned to him. 

“Thom…”

His lips were on hers before she could say anything else. Kissing him back she wrapped her arms around him hands getting lost in his soft hair. Her legs went around his waist straddling him. Thomas had adjusted for her to sit on his desk. Forgetting about what just happened, Gloriana pushed aside his papers as they flew on the floor. She pulled him closer to her clawing at his jacket.

Thomas opened his mouth for her until they were fighting for dominance. Her sweater had inched up tan skin before she went to throw it off to the side.

“You could have told me that he did that,” he muttered between kisses across her collarbone and shoulder. She melted underneath him, her underwear growing wet at the thought of seeing all of him. 

“Well, I wouldn’t have seen you get all protective like this.” She kissed his lips once more a hand running up his shirt and felt his toned muscles.

He paused and kissed down to her breast. His hands pulled her close to him where they could only see each other. His body radiating warmth while she tugged at his belt. “Well, I would do something to…”

Before he could finish, there was a knock on the door. Gathering her sweatshirt, she made herself look presentable and Thomas adjusting his clothes. They shared a long look as the secretary poked his head in after getting permission. He reminded him that he was going on his lunch break.

“Would you like lunch Gloriana?” asked Thomas. “Taco truck?”

“Taco truck.”

With that they left the building. Even if her dad’s guy who knew a guy who knew a guy didn’t work out, they at least had evidence but that was good enough for her. Instead her mind wandering to when the next time she and would be able to make out like that again or even farther. And if she did go farther, maybe, just maybe, it would be on his desk. 

Tag list: @flyawayboo @queen-among-writers @am-i-invisible777 @adrianadmirer @fluffy-cat-whisper @melodyofgraves @symonde @paisleylovergirl @elainew13 @itsbrindleybinch @brightpinkpeppercorn @darley1101 @mfackenthal @jlpplays1 @writerapprentice @indescribablechoices 

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future stories or taken off! 

[lilliloves]

1. “How much did you drink?” for Brio. Not picky but would love it if it’s drunk!Rio :)

This prompt (and probably a lot of future ones) falls into this universe.

Beth lifts her head up off the couch, lowering the volume on the television at the same time. She's been curled up on the couch for the last hour, half dozing, half watching the Real Housewives repeat on the screen in front of her.

The house is momentarily quiet but she could swear she heard a knock on the door. She sits up to listen more closely, the fleece blanket across her lap falling to the floor. Her eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline when, after a minute, she hears the doorbell ring.

She can't remember the last time someone rang the doorbell - after ten o'clock at night, no less - and she curses whoever it is for potentially waking the four sleeping children upstairs.

She pushes herself off the couch with a groan, powering off the TV, leaving herself to stumble across the room towards the front door in mostly darkness.

She swings the door open, prepared to give whoever is on the other side hell but -

It's Rio.

She hadn't been expecting him. She's pretty certain he's never rang the doorbell, always choosing to knock or come through the back or, in most cases, walk right in without an invitation. But it's definitely him standing in front of her, the dim glow of the porch light just over his head. His arms are crossed over his chest, head down, and if she didn't know better she might think he was sleeping. Beth stares, mouth wide open, and waits.

And waits.

But he doesn't lift his head, doesn't make a move to speak or come inside or acknowledge her and she's just - confused. She clears her throat, unsure why she's so hesitant but something seems... not quite right.

"Um... hi?" She says, and it works because he finally looks up with a smirk. He looks different though, she can’t put her finger on what it is exactly but something is off.

She hasn't seen him in close to a week - not since the night she'd gone home with him after Annie's wedding. She'd known she wouldn't see him - mostly. He'd told her he had Marcus for the week and a lot of work things lined up and even though they had discussed making changes to their relationship she couldn't expect everything to fall into place all at once.

He'd sent a few brief texts her way in his absence but it hadn't been enough to sate her and when she'd initiated contact he'd offered vague and short responses. She feared he was having doubts about them, about whatever this was, about the conversation they'd had in her bedroom, but then he'd sent her a simple text one night during the week - 'thinkin' about you' - it had said and it'd been enough to ease her worries. She didn't want to push him, was okay with baby steps - with taking things slow - she just had to reconcile that her slow and Rio's slow might be at different levels.

Beth's eyes flicker behind him and she notices that the driveway is void of his car. Her forehead creases further and she's just so thrown off kilter. Her gaze moves back to his and he's staring so intently at her that it momentarily takes her breath away. She feels her cheeks flush and sees the exact moment that he notices but before he can make some kind of lewd comment she asks the first thing that comes to mind:

"Where’s your car?"

He smirks but answers with a shrug. "Demon dropped me off."

As if that clarified anything.

"What’s going on?" She asks this time and her tone is less confused now - more frustrated. It's late and her kids are upstairs and he's just standing there not doing anything or saying anything and it's starting to piss her off.

He shrugs and then laughs. Not his usual chuckle, not an amused huff but a deep, loud, belly laugh. His face lights up and his hand comes up to cover his mouth at his outburst and he looks almost innocent and child-like - two descriptive words that Beth could never anticipate using in relation to Rio.

Beth’s eyes widen, partially amused but mostly completely fucking lost. She has never seen him like this - thinks that he has to be on drugs.

He leans forward, inches from her face and her gaze roams over him. She catalogs the laugh lines on his forehead, the curve of his lips, the white teeth on display from his wide smile. He reaches his hand out and grips her chin stroking her lower lip with his thumb. His touch is always enough to send her reeling but instead of melting she jerks back and he laughs again.

She swats at his hand, taking a step away from him. The front door pushes backwards and she briefly considers slamming it in his face but she needs to know what the hell is going on.

"Rio - what the - ?" She stumbles overs her words and takes one more look into his glassy eyes when it hits her - he’s drunk. She can smell it now. The mix of mint and Rio and vodka.

She grabs him and pulls him inside and he just laughs again.

"You alone?" He questions and she rolls her eyes because now he cares? She watches him peek around her into the family room, towards the kitchen before finally landing his gaze back on her.

"The kids are sleeping." She says quietly. Since they've started whatever this thing is between them he's not been here when her kids are home. The time they spend together is always completely free of their real life obligations - one of the reasons she had insisted that if they were going to do this - they needed to start to do it normally. The last few months with him had felt so good - so right - but the fact that it was a relationship completely closed off from everyday life never made it seem real.

And she wanted it to be real.

The mention of her kids seems to temporarily sober him. He looks slightly apologetic but not enough to voice the words. He puts a finger to his lips and silently promises to be quieter. She rolls her eyes and pulls him towards her bedroom, pointedly ignoring the twinkle in his eye as she does.

She pushes him inside and softly shuts the door behind her. She watches as he flings himself onto her neatly made bed and ignores the warmth in her belly as he kicks his shoes off and makes himself comfortable.

"What are you doing here?" She asks, forcing him to look at her. She crosses her arms in front of her and she notices - but ignores - the way his eyes darken as they linger on her chest. She's bra-less, wearing an over-sized sweater that's falling off of her shoulder and worn, black, leggings - an outfit she generally keeps safely confined to her nights at home, alone.

Instead of leering at her for any longer he flops backwards onto her bed and answers vaguely. "Was in the area."

"With Demon?" She asks curiously, narrowing her eyes at him as he stares up at her ceiling.

"I needed a ride. He lives closer to here than my loft so - "

"You needed a ride because you're drunk." She accuses attempting to get him to admit to the fact but he only shrugs, neither confirming nor denying.

"How do you plan on getting home?"

"I'll get an Uber." He responds with a wave of his hand as if he doesn't have the time or patience or ability to answer her mile long list of questions.

"You will not." She shoots back quickly, because she knows him and she knows for a fact that he would never rely on an Uber drive to bring him anywhere.

He laughs and sits up, patting the bed next to him, encouraging her to sit, but she doesn't take the bait. He gives her a look she's never seen from him before - a cross between a sad puppy and a pathetic teenager caught with his pants around his ankles. When she still doesn't fold under his gaze he groans and falls back onto her bed once again.

"You got water?" He asks and she clocks his movement as his hands rub over his face, his voice dry and raspy and she momentarily feels bad for him and the hangover he's likely developing.

She huffs and rolls her eyes but makes her way out to the kitchen to get him a bottle of water. She can't decide if she's glad he's here or annoyed. A little bit of both, she presumes, but she knows she's leaning more towards the former. It's almost exciting to see him this way - not entirely in his right mind. She's grinning by the time she's heading back towards her room, imagining the things she might be able to hold over his head after the night is through.

She walks back into her room and finds him sitting up on the edge of the bed, black socks covering the feet he has placed firmly on the ground. His eyes are closed but he opens them when he feels her presence next to him. She holds the bottle out to him and he grabs it, giving her a grateful look before downing half of it's contents. Beth watches him as he drinks, eyes lingering on his throat as he swallows. The site of him drinking water shouldn't cause such palpable attraction but she finds herself having to ignore the heat that courses through her body. She looks away as he screws on the cap of the bottle and throws it down next to him. Silence stretches out for a moment before she takes a breath and continues her inquiries.

“I can’t believe you’re drunk." She blurts out. She still refuses to sit next to him but she does move slightly closer so that her legs are almost brushing his knees.

"I ain’t drunk. I don’t get drunk." He argues and she can tell he's attempting to convince himself of the fact. Whatever. She's the one that has a front row seat to him right now and nothing has ever been more obvious than this.

"I can't believe you showed up here, drunk." Beth ignores him and she can hear her voice pushing him, can sense he's about to flip out but it doesn't stop her.

"Not drunk."

"Where were you?" She asks, only half expecting a straight answer.

"Out with the boys." He answers and while it isn't much it's more than she'd expected.

"How much did you drink?"

"Not much." She watches as he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and starts to scroll through messages or emails or something - anything to ignore the woman standing in front of him. She wonders if he regrets showing up here - wonders if he thought she'd just welcome him with open arms.

She looks at him and as good looking as he is at all times she can see the slight glean of sweat on his forehead, the clench of his jaw, the crease in his forehead. "Are you going to throw up?

He doesn't look up from his phone but she sees his eyes roll anyway. "I don’t throw up."

"The same way you don’t drink?" She teases knowingly.

He shakes his head and finally looks up from his phone. His eyes are dark and fiery and she can see that he's had enough. "Shit, stop naggin'"

She swallows back a retort and forces herself to stay calm. When she does control herself she speaks quietly and slowly as if to accentuate her point as clearly as possible. "You came here."

"Right. I came here, not my ma's, so back off."

Her mouth drops open, he's gone from laughing drunk to angry drunk in a flash but instead of giving him the fight he's clearly looking for she tries a different tactic.

She sits down next to him, body turned in his direction, leg bent underneath her. She attempts to meet his gaze but he makes it a point to avoid her. "How was your week?"

He shrugs but doesn't answer and it hits her that something else is going on here other than the fact that he reeks of booze.

"Tell me what's going on." She presses, nudging at his knee with her hand.

"Nothin'." He says quickly, ignoring her touch. She bites her lip with her teeth, attempting to hold back a smile. He's giving her children a run for their money right now with his petulance.

"Is Marcus okay?" She asks, attempting to figure out what might be wrong given his reluctance to share.

"He's fine." His response is gruff but she continues.

"Everything good with work?"

His eyes finally swing up to meet hers and instead of answering he changes the direction of the conversation all together. "I thought Dean had the kids 'til Monday."

She tilts her head in question and narrows her eyes. "He did. Or he was supposed to. Something came up for today last minute so he dropped them off last night instead."

She's surprised at how genuinely angry he suddenly is. She watches as he shakes his head and curls his hands in a fist as if he's looking for a fight. "That guy fuckin' sucks."

"Where is this coming from?" She wonders out loud.

"I came by yesterday." He's calmer now but there's an edge to his voice and she's still no clearer on what the problem is.

"You did?" She questions in confusion, briefly going over the day before in her head. She attempts to figure out how she could have missed him. It had been Saturday and she was pretty sure - no she was very sure - that she hadn't left the house all day. She'd done all of her weekend errands on Friday night when Dean had asked if he could bring the kids home early. He'd been building up his real estate clientele and a few houses had come on the market last minute that he'd hoped to show a high end client. Beth had been fine with it. She'd had no plans and she was happy that things were going well for Dean in his new career.

"Yeah. Came by around four. Saw Dean's car so I left."

She nodded because - yeah. There were lots of steps their new relationship would have to take before Dean got clued in on it.

"Came back later though. 'Round 8." He says and she narrows her eyes because his tone is accusing her of something but she can't figure out what.

"He was still here." Rio finishes and now she sees things much clearer.

She sighs as everything clicks into place in her head. She wonders if he's been drinking because of the jealousy or if the jealousy is rearing it's ugly head because of the drinking.

"He stayed for dinner." She explains although she doesn't appreciate what he seems to be getting at.

"Cute."

"Rio." She warns, and it's enough that she sees his jaw tighten before he decides against saying anything else.

He jumps up off the bed, catching her by surprise. She hears him mumble something about taking a piss, a phrase she has always loathed, before closing himself in her master suite. She sighs but moves towards the bathroom to lean against the closed door. When she hears the toilet flush and the sink start she enters without an invitation. He's standing in front of the sink, leaning forward with his hands propped on the counter. His head is down, his eyes closed and she can almost see how awful he feels. Can see that a dull ache is forming in his head, that the light is too bright, that the alcohol is hitting in the way it does after you've drank a lot and then stopped.

She moves towards him and grabs a washcloth off of the counter, running it under the cold water before turning the knob off. She squeezes the water out and folds the cloth before placing it on the back of his neck. He shivers slightly but doesn't push her away.

"He just stayed to have dinner with the kids." She starts, keeping her voice low. "You know we're trying to stay on friendly terms for them."

"I fuckin' hate him." He says and while she can tell he's more relaxed then he was a few minutes ago the venom that appears in his voice whenever Dean comes up is evident.

She nods, she gets it, sort of, but -

"I assume that Marcus has a mother? That you have an ex."

He turns his head to look at her and glares. "That's different."

"Maybe." She says with a shrug although she doesn't necessarily agree. She chooses not to point out that she couldn't possibly know if it was different since she knows nothing about the situation. The time for that conversation is soon but not now.

"He's got no respect for you." He lifts his head and their eyes meet in the mirror.

"Which is part of the reason I'm not with him anymore." She presses the cloth harder against his neck and then brings it around to run it across his cheeks and forehead. He closes his eyes and she doesn't take her gaze off of him. His emotions are all over the place but right now she can see how resigned he is and she's taking advantage.

She drops the cloth on the counter and pushes at his arm so that he turns to face her. She moves to stand in front of him and he leans his weight against the vanity behind him. She steps as close as she can to him so that their middles meet and instinctively he reaches out to grip her waist. She lifts her hands and runs her fingers through his scalp and over his temples, once than twice. He groans at the contact and pulls her flush against him. Not surprisingly, even in his condition, she feels him harden in his jeans.

"You know Dean driving you to drink and then you showing up here hammered is all sorts of cliche."

"I ain't drinkin' cause of Dean. I spend lots of Sundays watchin' football with the boys." He bends his knees so that he's eye level with her and then continues. "Don't usually have anyone to answer to when I come home wasted."

She doesn't comment on the fact that he's just made mention of coming home to her, only pushes up on the tips of her toes and wraps her hand around the back of his neck. She meets his lips with her own but doesn't budge when he attempts to deepen the kiss so he nips at her lip and licks it with his tongue.

His hands slip down the back of her leggings and he squeezes her ass roughly in his palms, fingers digging into her flesh. She whimpers because he always knows exactly where and how to touch her just the way she likes it.

When one hand slips around to the front, pushing her underwear aside to slip a finger inside of her she pulls back but doesn't push him away.

"My kids are here." She whispers but she's not sure who she's trying to remind.

"And who do we got to blame for that?" He mumbles, giving her a pointed look without stopping what he's doing. He slips a second finger inside of her and she grips his neck tighter when his thumb grazes her clit.

"I told you I wanted you to spend time with them. Not that I wanted them to find you here one morning nursing a hangover." Her voice cracks on the last word and she gives in to the fact that he's intent on getting her off.

He quickens the speed of his hand, pushing his fingers in and then out at a pace almost too much for her to handle. She lowers her head so that her forehead is leaning against his shoulder and then bites his tattoo covered neck when he brings her over the edge.

They're quiet for a moment, neither moving until she's come down from the high that only he can provide. He pulls his hand from out of her pants and wipes his fingers on the damp cloth she'd just wiped over his head.

"I'll sneak out before they wake up in the morning." He says, breaking the silence. "Unless you want me to go now."

She shakes her head - that's the last thing she wants - and pushes him in the direction of the shower. She pulls the door open and turns on the water, making sure the temperature is right before she steps back to face him.

He's already stripping and she has to force herself to look away from the hard-on he's sporting.

Her eyes flick up to his and she rolls them at the smirk on his face. He steps forward to bypass her on his way into the shower but she stops him before he can get away.

"You weren't actually worried about Dean being here right?" She asks because she has to believe that Rio knows she could never go back to him after everything.

His eyes darken as he shakes his head.

"No." He starts and she bites her lip to stay quiet. "But if he thinks he's got a shot at gettin' you back..."

She shakes her head as he trails off and answers quickly. "He doesn't."

"We'll see." He says simply. She sighs and watches as the glass door of the shower closes behind him before she goes in search of some Advil because, regardless of if he'll admit it or not - he's going to need it.

[richfieldbranch]

Mike’s Picks - Week of April 6th

Hello again to all our Richfield Library Patrons. We’re back this week with more suggestions to keep you busy while you're stuck at home. All library programs, outreach, and meeting rooms have been canceled until at least May, so hang in there! The books are all available through Hoopla or Overdrive, you can click the title to access it’s listing, or find all our materials at https://akronlibrary.org/browse/digital.  As always, I miss you, and please send me an email to let me know how you're doing, or if there's anything I can do for you.

Mike Daly, Adult Services Librarian 

mdaly@akronlibrary.org

Crafts:

For all you Richfield Crafters out there missing your monthly crafting fix, I have attached a couple of timely links to help you pass the time during the great quarantine.

Do-it-yourself Covid Masks

The first link was posted by the U. S. Surgeon General Jerome Adams. It's very simple and doesn't require sewing. You can find the video at: 

https://www.wwlp.com/news/health/coronavirus-local-impact/surgeon-general-heres-how-you-can-make-a-cloth-mask-today-in-just-a-few-easy-steps/

NPR also explains how they should be worn, and offers some different options for making them (including one where you just cut up an old t-shirt, no sewing or stapling or anything):

https://www.npr.org/sections/goatsandsoda/2020/04/03/826996154/coronavirus-faqs-is-a-homemade-mask-effective-and-whats-the-best-way-to-wear-one

This one is what my wife used to make our family's masks. It does require a sewing machine, but the results were quite professional and easy to wear. There are hundreds of online tutorials if you do an internet search for “making Covid masks”. This one is from USA Today:

 https://www.usatoday.com/in-depth/news/2020/04/04/coronavirus-face-mask-tips-how-make-fabric-instructions/2945209001/ 

And finally, Joann Fabric has provided this pattern that does not require elastic or string, but instead has fabric straps:

https://www.joann.com/on/demandware.static/-/Library-Sites-LibraryJoAnnShared/default/dw4148ae36/static/landingpage/assets/MaskInstructions_V2.pdf

Easter Pom-Pom Craft

Here's a couple of simple craft for all ages. They're really easy and the end products are very cute. All you need are scissors, rubber bands, old fabric, and some yarn. For bunnies:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8DYHOSpL50 

and for chicks:

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oz0o-dBhAKA  

There are many more available on You Tube.

Books:

Non-Fiction

The Pioneers: The Heroic Story of the Settlers Who Brought the American Ideal West by David McCullough

McCullough tells the story of the settling of the Northwest Territory, at the time a wilderness northwest of the Ohio River containing the future states of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin. His main focus is on the founding and growth of Marietta, Ohio. Included in the Northwest Ordinance were three remarkable conditions: freedom of religion, free universal education, and most importantly, the

prohibition of slavery. McCullough tells the story through five major characters: Manasseh Cutler, Revolutionary War veteran General Rufus Putnam, Cutler’s son Ephraim; and two other men, one a carpenter turned architect, and the other a physician who became a prominent pioneer in American science. A must read for anyone interested in Ohio history.

Code Name: Lise, the True Story of the Woman Who Became WWII's Most Decorated Spy by Larry Loftis

This book was an exciting read. I had never heard of Odette Sansom or the women of the SOE. In 1942 Odette Sansom, a French woman married to and English man, decides to follow in her war hero father’s footsteps by becoming an SOE agent to aid Britain and her beloved homeland, France. Five failed attempts and one plane crash later, she finally lands in occupied France to begin her mission. It is here that she meets her commanding officer Captain Peter Churchill. Loftis paints a portrait of true courage, patriotism, and love—of two incredibly heroic people who endured unimaginable horrors. He weaves together the touching romance between Odette and Peter and the thrilling cat and mouse game between them and a wily Gestapo agent.

Fiction:

This week I've been rereading some of my favorite books. The titles listed below are an eclectic mix, so everyone should find something to like. They are also long which will help you kill some time while stuck at home.

The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

This was my favorite book in high school. Lose yourself in the adventures of Frodo and Gandolf in their epic battle of good versus evil. All three titles, The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and The Return of the King are available for down as Ebook or audio on the library website.

The Life And Adventures Of Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens 

Although not as well known as Great Expectations or Oliver Twist, this Dickens classic is my favorite. A serial romp through Victorian England, this book is in turns funny, sad, and touching. Don't give up because the 19th Century language is unfamiliar. You will be rewarded if you persevere. 

The Ebook is available through Project Gutenberg: 

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/967/967-h/967-h.htm 

and the audio book is available at LibriVox:

 https://librivox.org/the-life-and-adventures-of-nicholas-nickleby-by/ 

Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett

The first and best of Follett's historical novels about the fictional English city of Kingsbridge, it's an Oprah Book Club choice as well. The Pillars of the Earth tells the story of Philip, prior of Kingsbridge, a devout and resourceful monk driven to build the greatest Gothic cathedral the world has known, of Tom, the mason who becomes his architect, and of the beautiful, elusive Lady Aliena. The book tells of the struggle that will turn church against state and brother against brother. The book, as well as the two sequels, A World Without End and A Column of Fire, are available for download as Ebook or Eaudio on the library website.

And finally.................

Monday April 9th is

Fresh Tomato Day

“A tomato may be a fruit, but it is a singular fruit. A savory fruit. A fruit that has ambitions far beyond the ambitions of other fruits.” E. Lockhart

“Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit; wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.” Miles Kington

“It's difficult to think anything but pleasant thoughts while eating a homegrown tomato.” Lewis Grizzard

Tuesday April 7h is

National Beer Day

“Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.” Benjamin Franklin

“I am a firm believer in the people. If given the truth, they can be depended upon to meet any national crisis. The great point is to bring them the real facts, and beer.” Abraham Lincoln

“Beer's intellectual. What a shame so many idiots drink it.” Ray Bradbury

Wednesday April 8th is

International Feng Shui Day

“You don't have to believe in Feng Shui for it to work. I just know it brings me money.” Donald Trump

“I once drew a picture of Jack Nicholson in The Shining. But I put it away after a Feng Shui expert told me about the bad vibes” David James

“My view on Feng Shui: don’t put your bed in front of the door because you won’t get in.” Jonas Eriksson

Thursday April 9th is

National Gin and Tonic Day

“The gin and tonic has saved more Englishmen’s lives, and minds, than all the doctors in the Empire.” Winston Churchill

“Of all the gin joints, in all the world she walks into mine.” Humphrey Bogart as Rick Blaine in Casablanca

“I don't know what reception I'm at, but for God's sake give me a gin and tonic.” Dennis Thatcher, husband of Margaret Thatcher

Friday April 10th is

Global Work from Home Day (Very Appropriate!)

“All happiness depends on courage and work.” Honore de Balzac

“Without ambition one starts nothing. Without work one finishes nothing. The prize will not be sent to you. You have to win it.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

“In the name of God, stop a moment, cease your work, look around you.” Leo Tolstoy

Saturday April 11th is

National Pet Day

“Sometimes losing a pet is more painful than losing a human because in the case of the pet, you were not pretending to love it.” Amy Sedaris

“Pets are humanizing. They remind us we have an obligation and responsibility to preserve and nurture and care for all life.” James Cromwell

“Such short little lives our pets have to spend with us, and they spend most of it waiting for us to come home each day. It is amazing how much love and laughter they bring into our lives and even how much closer we become with each other because of them.” John Grogan

More to come next week!

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (2)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, youtuber phil lester, dan howell is not a youtuber, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.2k (this chapter), 6.4k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"Do you remember the Wilkins place?"

"I'm well, thanks." Martyn's voice is dry, and Phil finds himself grinning at the wall despite himself. "How are you?"

"Good," says Phil. It's mostly true, although he could do without the piles of clothes he's sorting through. He holds his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he picks up a top of Sophie's and starts a whole new pile that he's calling delicates, aka things he's absolutely going to screw up somehow. "People think the Wilkins place is haunted."

There's a beat. Presumably, Phil's brother is trying to fit the name into adolescent memories to see where it slots in. "Oh, that wreck in Rusholme? It hasn't been condemned yet?"

"Apparently it's still a hot spot for binge-drinking teenagers," Phil says.

"Well, sure. But haunted? Really?"

"That's what I said!"

Phil feels a little vindicated by the skepticism in Martyn's voice, to be honest. His friends hadn't taken his weird feeling seriously at all.

"I mean, it's a dump," says Martyn. "More likely to be haunted by a bunch of rats than anything else. Why haven't we heard this before?"

"According to my sources," Phil says, only feeling a bit ridiculous about referring to a bunch of strangers on the internet as 'sources', "the activity only recently started. Which makes me think that someone's lying, or maybe one incident kickstarted everyone else's imaginations?"

"Both could be true. Why don't you ask Ian to go check it out?"

It's not exactly a sore spot, but something inside of Phil still twinges at the question. "He's a little busy, isn't he."

"So am I," Martyn says in that same dry, familiar tone that makes Phil feel as comforted as his mum's fretting or his dad's bad jokes do. "And yet here you are, on my phone."

"You don't have a toddler," Phil points out.

"I don't? Yet here you are..."

Phil snorts a laugh and drops all of the socks he's gathered into an empty basket. It's as good a place to start as any. "Shut up, Mar. I'm at least six."

There are, literally, enough dirty socks and pants between the four of them that Phil has a whole load of just underthings. He spares a moment to be grateful to Sophie for not including her bras, because he'd have no idea where to begin with those. He sighs and picks up the basket, fitting it against his hip with one hand so he can hold his phone with the other.

"Well, I can ask around," says Martyn. "I think my friends might be past the point of sneaking into abandoned houses to party, but maybe they've heard something from their annoying little brothers."

"Ha, ha," Phil says dryly. "Think I should contact some of the people making these claims?"

"Deffo," says Martyn. "If you can record them, it'd be best."

"Yeah, that way I can use them in the video," Phil hums, setting his basket on the washer and opening every cupboard to try to find the detergent. "I mean, if they're okay with that, obviously."

"I actually meant because your bullshit detector is dysfunctional, so me or Peej will have to tell you if someone's lying."

"Wow, rude. Whose fault is that?"

"Yours," Martyn informs him dryly. "Just because I told you Santa would pull you up through the chimney doesn't mean you had to believe me."

Phil rolls his eyes, but he's grinning. Maybe it's just a big brother thing, or maybe it's their personalities, but Martyn isn't wrong - Phil has a hard time telling when someone is lying to him. Martyn was always good at lying with a straight face and seeing right through Phil's outlandish stories.

"I still blame you," says Phil.

"Alright," says Martyn. "When are you coming to visit?"

"Probably not ‘til after this one," Phil says slowly, glancing at the kitten calendar on the fridge. They'd let one of their milder housemates pick this year's after everyone got tired of looking at Chris' previous choice of nude knitted puppets.

"Yeah? You gonna head up north for this one?"

In the very last cupboard he checks, Phil finds the detergent. He wants to be annoyed about it, but the truth is that Holly's habit of switching around the kitchen when she's anxious has saved many a pack of biscuits from expiring behind some flour. Phil has never once been useful to anybody when he's having a meltdown, so.

Phil absentmindedly loads the washer while he considers Martyn's question. Maybe it would be best to check the place out for himself, see if anything's really going on. He likes being on-site best, trusts his own gut more than he trusts strangers' eyes.

The problem, of course, is that Phil's childhood home is up for sale, he has no money for a hotel, and Ian's gone and got himself a child. The last thing Phil wants to do is impose or, like, get roped into babysitting. A trip to Manchester might be out of the question for him right now.

"Maybe," Phil says, noncommittal.

Martyn sees through him in an instant, like always. "Want me to ask Mum if they've got any viewings next weekend? I'm sure you know not to trash the place."

"Have I ever once trashed the place? Don't answer that," Phil adds, remembering the shaving cream incident.

A huff comes down the line, and Phil feels the same pride at making his brother laugh as he had when he was seven and making weird noises out the car window. Yeah, he definitely needs to go to London soon, the Isle afterwards - he hasn't seen his family in way too long.

"I'll let you know what's buzzing, if anything," says Martyn. "And I'll call Mum for you and all. I know you get weird about asking them for favours."

"I get weird about asking anyone for favours," Phil says instead of a thank you, because if he gets weird about asking for help, then Martyn gets twice as weird about reacting to gratitude.

"Except me."

Phil smiles, watching the rainbow of socks and pants spin. "Yeah. Except you."

--

Laundry does end up taking Phil most of the day, but he doesn't mind much. It's the least he can do when Chris always does the first draft edit for him, PJ reminds him to take his EMF meter and his meds when he's packing for an overnight, and Sophie sends him pages upon pages of research while she's at work. He's so fond of these people, and he appreciates all they do for him, but being in debt to them - and not in sole control of his projects - makes Phil feel like he's got ants crawling up his arms.

While he waits out the machine cycles, Phil starts putting feelers out into this story. He checks the sources linked to him again and shoots off a couple of direct messages and emails to see if any of the people posting about the Wilkins place are eager to chat one on one.

He's got his laptop set up at the kitchen table and he's on his third coffee of the day when it occurs to him that he's not out of the woods of owing favours just yet. He clicks back into the Tumblr submission that started this spiral.

He decides that he needs to thank this person, at the very least, and maybe offer to buy them a coffee or something when he's in town. They did so much of Phil's grunt work that it feels weird not to pay them back somehow.

"Well, I can't exactly do your laundry," Phil murmurs to the screen. He hopes none of his other housemates are milling around to hear him.

Another click, and he's on the blog. It's minimalist and monochrome in a way that makes things easy to read, but not very interesting to look at. Phil's eyes start to glaze over as he scrolls through, because it's entertaining enough but - well. It's a typical Tumblr blog. That familiar mixture of memes and rants about social issues and some gifs from shows that Phil doesn't have time to watch. There are a lot of familiar walls of text tagged as personal posts, but Phil still can't parse them without really trying.

They do reblog Phil's video posts, though. That makes him grin.

He scrolls back up to the top of the page to shoot them a message and immediately gets distracted by the bio.

winnie. 21. any pronouns.

For someone who sent Phil a wall of text that could be mistaken for copypasta at first glance, it's surprisingly succinct. Phil takes another swig of his coffee and tries not to get caught up on the last part of it.

Any pronouns? What does that mean, any pronouns? What if Phil uses the wrong ones? He isn't exactly a queer theory student, and as much as he supports everybody under his little rainbow umbrella, he's got to admit that a lot of things still go over his head.

He dithers for so long that his laptop screen goes black, and he makes a face at himself in its reflection. Surely he's overthinking this.

Hi!, Phil types, and then accidentally hits enter. He was just trying not to send the fan a paragraph back, but, fine. Oops. So I'm looking into the things you sent me on the Wilkins place and I'm really impressed by the amount of time you put into this? Like it makes MY job a lot easier haha. Is he a triple-texter? He's a triple-texter. The first one didn't count anyway. So thanks!!!!! I'll def give you credit in the video, but is there anything else I can do to pay you back?

Not literally, he wants to add right after he's sent it. Oh, well. He can't just keep spamming this poor person's chat. He hopes it's obvious that he'd offer monetary compensation if he had it.

Phil leaves the Tumblr tab open and works on editing for a little while. It's almost frustrating how bad this video is, how little effort and energy Phil has started putting into these, and he doesn't know how to fix it short of rethinking his entire career.

He could easily keep churning these out for as long as people watch them, but. He's not having fun anymore.

The Phil on his laptop screen is asking questions, wandering around a cemetery just to see if anything will happen, and Phil can't help comparing it to things he did last year, the year before that, the year before that - it feels like his content is declining as his enthusiasm for the topic does, or maybe vice versa.

Phil zones out for so long that the dryer chime goes off from the hallway, echoing through the old, creaky house. He'd given up on sorting the loads after the fifth shirt that could belong to any of them, so he just takes his own things out and folds his housemates' clothes into one basket.

They can figure it out, he's sure. There's only two bedrooms between the three of them, so there's only two closets, and Phil has gone so long without knowing who's officially sharing that it would be awkward to ask now.

Phil swaps the load over and goes back to his laptop, even though the very last thing he wants to do is continue editing and uploading this mediocre video.

The thing is, Phil doesn't need his content to be perfect. He's happy to post things that just make him laugh or have a nicely spooky vibe or whatever, he doesn't need to solve mysteries every month or two. It's just that. He can hear how little he cares about it, lately. It won't be long before people notice, if they haven't already.

Phil sighs and exits the project. Maybe this video is best left unposted. He's not happy with it at all.

Maybe, if this Wilkins place video doesn't pan out, Phil can start redirecting his energy into a different type of creative output. He's got so many stories bouncing around in his mind, he just needs to figure out how he wants to tell them.

It sounds like his father's voice inside his head, telling him you can't chase ghosts forever. He wishes he still had the gumption to disagree with it.

His laptop makes a little noise, and Phil blinks back to reality. He has to click on a few different tabs to figure out where it came from, but then he realises that he's gotten a response on Tumblr.

Phil smiles despite himself and gets ready for another difficult-to-read message.

Sure enough: UHHHHHH hi hello what the fuck i didnt expect you to say anything this is so weird i am being so weird right now um like no problem? i was procrastinating an essay and this was more fun to research so you dont have to thank me or pay me back whatever that means like i was just fucking around its fine but thank you?????

Phil thinks about the four word Tumblr bio again and snorts. Maybe Winnie wanted to seem as cool and minimalist as their theme itself was.

Procrastination or not, I appreciate it!, Phil replies. Would it be ok if I use you as a reference?

?????????????? i mean yeah but what the fuck, he gets back almost immediately.

It's nice to see you know some punctuation! Sorry if it's weird to reach out like this, I just wanted to like acknowledge the work you put in. I don't have to mention you in the video if you'd prefer!

The sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut interrupts Phil's nervous typing. He freezes for a moment, fingers still on the keyboard, but then PJ comes in the kitchen with a little salute and several bags of craft supplies, and Phil can breathe again.

It isn't that the other people who live in this house are bad people. Far from it. It's just that, of the people Phil has opted to share this large space with for nearly two years, only three of them have made any kind of effort to understand Phil. The others are nice enough, he supposes, but sometimes they come and go and new people replace them and - Phil isn't exactly good with change, is the thing.

So he relaxes when he can talk to PJ instead of making small talk with someone who thinks he's weird and too messy. "Hey! How's your day?"

"Better than yours," PJ laughs. He drops all the bags on the table and starts puttering around the kitchen. "Hungry?"

"Please. And it wasn't so bad, I got some work done."

"Yeah? Any new info on the new haunt?"

It's incredible how genuinely interested PJ always is in Phil's work. Phil grins down at his keyboard and shrugs a bit. "Some. Mostly just poking around right now, though. Mar's asking his friends too. Oh, and I thanked the person who sent it in."

"That's good," PJ says. He's putting the kettle on, because that's what PJ does when he comes home. "How'd they react?"

"Mostly confusion," Phil laughs. He glances at his screen to see if Winnie has responded - they haven't - and chews on his lip a little bit. "Hey, Peej? If someone says any pronouns are fine, what does that mean?"

"Generally," PJ hums, "it seems like it would mean any pronouns are fine."

"Oh, shut up." Phil runs a hand through his hair, always anxious about getting stuff like this wrong.

"I'm not joking," PJ says, although his tone is still light.

"Oh. So it just... doesn't matter?"

"Not to some people, I guess." PJ leans against the counter as he waits for the water to boil. At least he's smiling, although Phil can't help but notice that it's a little patronizing. "You do know that I'm not a gender guru, right? I'm barely a gender novice. I failed gender out the gate, buddy."

Phil knows his cheeks are pinking up a bit, but he rolls his eyes. "Shut up," he repeats. "You still know way more than me."

The shrug he gets in response makes Phil huff a laugh. This isn't something they talk about, but Phil has been present for enough of Chris and PJ's conversations that he'd gotten the idea.

He wonders if PJ cares that he's bringing it up. Is he making PJ uncomfortable? They don't talk about this.

"Stop spiralling," PJ says easily. His smile is warmer, now. "I don't hate you, nobody hates you, and the fan who doesn't care about pronouns certainly doesn't hate you. If you're that worried about upsetting them, though, you can always ask."

Maybe he's known PJ too long. He's grateful for it, still, so relieved that he doesn't have to voice the swirling anxiety of doing something wrong when he only has the best intentions.

"I guess I could do that," Phil mutters, embarrassed by how easily he's been read.

Winnie's responded by the time Phil looks back at the chat window, a lmao yeah ofc thats fine i just cant believe you want to, im not trying to b weird ive just been a fan for a really long time?? (used a comma for you too) (and brackets) (youre welcome) that makes Phil smile.

Awesome! And are the name Winnie & they/them pronouns fine to talk about you with, or do you prefer something else for this?

no yeah thats good idc how you refer to me, is Winnie's immediate response. It's stupid how much of a load feels like it's been lifted off of Phil's shoulders at that easy reassurance.

"You were right," Phil informs PJ.

PJ nods, solemn, as he stirs his noodles. "I often am."

"You're annoying, also," says Phil. "Hey. D'you wanna come up north with me?"

"Phil," says PJ dramatically, holding the wooden spoon up to his heart. "Are you asking me to run away with you?"

"No, absolutely not, stop making that joke." There's no way in hell Phil is going to keep putting up with this from both of them, and PJ is more likely to listen to him than Chris is.

PJ laughs. "Yeah, yeah. You going to see the haunt?"

"If my parents are okay with us hanging out for the weekend, yeah."

"Oh, okay," says PJ. "We're just waiting on confirmation that Kath and Nigel want to spend time with you? Might as well pack now."

"Your stuff's folded," Phil says helpfully. PJ throws a noodle in his general direction. It flops onto the floor between them, a sad, wet spiral of a thing, and Phil touches his nose at the same time PJ does.

"Well, one of us has to pick it up," PJ says in his Reasonable Adult voice, as if he hadn't thrown it in the first place.

Phil looks at his laptop, valiantly pretending not to see the floor noodle, and blinks.

and i mean i havent seen any of this shit firsthand but if you need to ask me anything about the stuff thats gone down im always free. like literally always.

[findmoneycoach77]

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I purchased Sqribble a few weeks ago and have been testing it out both personally and at my full-time job. I’ll share my experiences throughout this review and try to provide some valuable insight for all of you reading this review.

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The pre-designed eBooks are based on different topics but they could all easily be used for any topic of eBook. I think it’s more based on how the ebook will be used. For example, a pre-designed eBook based on presenting numerical data will be much different from an eBook focused on telling a children’s story. There are pre-designed examples for these types and more.

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Saving Prompts Since Sqribble doesn’t constantly save after every edit (more on this in the “What I Don’t Like” section) it does provide regular prompts to save your work. I don’t know for sure, but it seems like the prompt pops up every five minutes or so.

For people like me who can work for hours without remembering to save my work, these prompts help me to prevent a potential disaster. Of course, I’m not sure why it just doesn’t save automatically like most online platforms I’ve worked with like Canva.

Pre-Set Color Palettes Sqribble is marketed for those of us who want to be able to throw together a decent eBook without too much time and work put into it. On this note, they offer over twenty color palettes that you can easily apply to any eBook.

[emma-nation]

Thinking Of You (Mona x MC Fanfiction) - Chapter 3

You said move on Where do I go? I guess second best Is all I will know

Summary: Years later, Allison has everything she wants, a brand-new internship as a doctor, a handsome boyfriend… but her first nightshift won’t go as expected…

Genre: Romance, Angst

Tag list: @zoe6111, @simsvetements, @mvrinettes, @whoinvitedalx, @scarlet-letter-a0114, @abunchofbadchoices, @kamilahmademedoit, @janurary, @talkinlikeateen, @eagle-one-1, @andreear17, @tia-bi, @monagf, @monahott (let me know if you want to be tagged!)

Notes:

- English is my second language, please forgive me for any mistakes.

- I’m sorry for taking so long, inspiration took a some time to hit for this chapter. But adding Mona’s POV made things a lot more interesting. I hope you like it :)

“Dad, remember Mona? My… prom date?”

It didn’t matter how many times Allison had practiced that conversation in front of a mirror, she wasn’t prepared. She knew it would not go well. Mr. Wheeler still held a grudge against the Mercy Park Crew, for almost ruining his little girl’s life.

She woke up earlier that morning and prepared breakfast herself. Bacon and eggs, as Mr. Wheeler liked. He had came home late from work in the previous night. An investigation of a new case was taking much of his time.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he yawned. “You’re already up? I think I’m the one who missed the alarm this morning.”

“No, actually…” she put a smile on her face. “I woke up earlier. I wanted to prepare your breakfast, I hadn’t done it in a while.”

“Aren’t you the best daughter in the world? Your mother would be so proud of the woman you’ve became. At this time, she’d be already helping you to plan your wedding.”

“I’m sure she would… uhhh, dad? Remember how mom always helped people in need? She would never refuse help to anyone.”

“Of course, you inherited that from her. No surprise you’ve became a doctor.”

“So…” she served his plate as she delivered the news, avoiding eye contact with her father.

It was a matter of minutes until the peaceful environment of the Wheeler’s cozy residence turned into pure chaos. Mr. Wheeler’s face turned purple red, his eyes were wide and his fists clenched.

“It’s only for a few weeks,” Allison tried to assure him, as if it’d calm him down somehow. “Until she’s fully recovered.”

“I should’ve known… Yesterday when you asked about them! That thief… she planned all of this!”

“Dad, she just got released from jail. There’s no way she could’ve known.”

“Eight years? Only eight years? There’s something wrong, Allison. She escaped. And she’s trying to drag you into this mess again.”

Allison still tried to explain. Mona had her time reduced for good behavior and she had been working at Vaughn’s food truck during daytime and sleeping in a shelter at night.

“She’s homeless and with barely any money to live.”

“What about her family, huh? Where are they?” Mr. Wheeler wanted to know.

“She doesn’t talk about her family. All I know is she and her mom used to live in Bronx when she was arrested for the first time.”

“Good, so we’re going to locate her.”

“I agree,” Allison nodded. “Now I’m gonna pick her up. Until we locate her mother, it’s here she’s staying.”

———-

“I had even forgotten how it felt like,” Mona was sitting down at Allison’s car, on the driver’s seat, holding the wheel. “Where’s your car, by the way? Why did you trade it for this piece of junk?”

“I… I sold it. I had some… student loans to pay. And this piece of junk was a gift from my dad, for my graduation.”

Mona analyzed the car a little bit further.

“Well, we still can make some improvements.”

“You’re not allowed to drive yet, remember?” Allison reminded her, making her move to the passenger seat.

“My life became so boring,” Mona complained. “It feels I’m still in prison.”

“About that… my dad isn’t thrilled about your presence in our house so we’ll have to state a few rules.”

Mona rolled her eyes.

“When you said I could stay in your place, I thought you meant it was literally your place.”

“My apartment won’t be ready for few weeks and you need a decent place to stay. I mean it, Mona, if you don’t take care of yourself this time, it could become a serious issue.”

“As you command, Doc.”

As Allison started driving and telling the rules, Mona listened to everything in silence. She’d be sleeping in Allison’s bedroom, where she was supposed to stay in bed most of the time, resting. Allison would be preparing her a special diet, to focus on her full recovery. Until then, she was not allowed to leave the house alone.

“It’s almost like prison,” Mona complained, suddenly she was back to her usual frowned face, “but with some benefits.”

“Before going home,” Allison tried to lighten the mood, “driving around a little won’t kill you, right?”

She drove a few miles, stopping in front of a beach. Though Mona wasn’t allowed to leave the car and walk, feeling the sunlight and the ocean breeze would make her feel better.

“Why did you stop here?” She questioned.

“I always come here to clear my head or only to relax,” Allison told. “I thought it’d do you some good.”

“I remember coming here with the crew at night once. Ximena’s idea. Toby isn’t a very good swimmer, he nearly drowned,” a small smile appeared on the corners of her mouth. “We had a blast.”

“Did you ever hear from them again?”

“No and Vaughn didn’t trust me enough to spill anything. He thought I could betray them again.”

“Those were good times. I would do it all again, if I had a choice.”

“Well, good things always come to an end and they never stick for too long. In the end, it’s you and only you.”

Allison detected a trait of disappointment in her voice. Like if she expected the crew would come back for her or even find a way to visit her, but obviously, it never happened.

“What about your family?” Allison asked.

“You still ask too many questions,” was the response she received, followed by a smirk.

———-

When they got home, Allison offered her help to leave the car and walk, which she refused. She took a few steps and looked back, noticing Mona was having a hard time to walk.

“Actually… maybe I could use a little hand.”

“Of course.”

She placed an arm around Allison’s shoulders, while the young woman supported her by the waist.

Opening the door, Mr. Wheeler was sitting on the couch, arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“D-Dad,” Allison was caught by surprise, “I thought you were supposed to be at work.”

“I’m taking the night shift. I wanted to be home for this moment.”

He directed his angry gaze to Mona.

“You, sit down here,” he ordered. “Now.”

“Sorry, pops. It’s little bit too late to lecture me, I’m a lost cause.”

“I’m not offering you an option, Miss. You’ll sit down here and listen…”

“Make me.”

In that moment, Allison knew how intense her next few weeks were going to be. Mr. Wheeler wasn’t willing to accept Mona in their house, and Mona wouldn’t accept his cop attitude around her.

“Dad!” Allison interrupted, trying to calm the mood. “T-There’s no need for that, okay?”

“There is, Allison. And you better listen too.”

She helped Mona to sit down at the couch and placed herself right next to her.

Mr. Wheeler threw an evidence folder on the coffee table. A folder containing files about Mona. She raised an eyebrow.

“No offense, Detective. But if you’re gonna interrogate me, you should know I’ve served my time in jail and now I’m free.”

“Alright, Mona…” he grinded his teeth in rage, “that’s not even your real name, is it? It’s a false identity Kaneko provided you.”

Mona opened her mouth to say something, but he quickly interrupted her.

“I wonder how Dr. Terry Williams, one of the most powerful lawyers in the country took your case. You don’t come from a wealthy family, you don’t have any money yourself… These records doesn’t seem accurate to me, there’s something shady about them.”

“Dad, why is this supposed to matter?” Allison noticed how uncomfortable Mona was with the accusations.

“Give me those files,” she extended her hand.

After taking the papers from Mr. Wheeler’s hand, she smirked and started to place a few of them across the table.

“Here’s it. How I spent my time studying and working in jail. I got my GED, I attended many different classes… and as you can see, I was quite good in all of them.”

Allison extended her eyes to read. Mona had straight A’s in every class she took. There were also additional comments of her teachers about her performance.

“Dr. Williams does a charity work. Time from time she visits prison, looking for someone she knows is worthy helping. For these reasons…” she took some other files from the folder, Allison distinguished them as admission letters, from five different universities, nine years before, when Mona got arrested for the first time. “And these… she took my case.”

Mr. Wheeler examined the papers once more.

“If all of this is even real, I suppose you’ve already learned the consequences of getting involved with wrong people, right?” He got up, to face Mona even closer, ”I’ll only say it once. Stay away from Allison! Don’t ruin her life, like you ruined yours. Understood? Don’t make me send you to prison again, because this time I’ll make sure you’re never getting out.”

“Don’t worry, Detective Wheeler,” Mona got up too, showing she was not intimidated. “As soon as I’m able to move properly, I’ll go away. I promise, you or even your daughter, won’t hear from me again. Also, if I knew Allison would be in that hospital I’d never gone there. I made her promise she’d forget me and I can see she did it quite easily, for the last eight years.”

Allison felt her stomach flipping. No, she didn’t. She was never capable of forgetting Mona, not even for a day. Everything reminded her of her first lover. Her heart would race faster everytime she scented her fragrance in the air or when she saw a 2008 Yottsume Halberdier, like the one she owned. She’d always check her emails, her social network accounts, hoping for any contact or news about her. Countless were the letters she wrote and never sent.

“I’m more than pleased to hear that. She certainly did. You were just the rebellious phase of her teenage years, Mona, and as you know, they don’t last.”

Mona gave her a quick glance, then at her left hand. Allison could tell how hurt she was by her father’s words, even if she was doing her best to hide it.

“Dad,” she interrupted their discussion. “I wanna speak to you, in private.”

“Private, Allison? You were the one who took all our privacy away, by bringing home a criminal! Now I’m gonna have to pay attention if my belongings or our money disappear and you want to speak in private?!”

She shook her head in denial, refusing to believe what her father was saying. By her side, Mona started to wince in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Allison asked, worried.

“Nothing… just some pain…”

Of course, in the recommendations list she also included Mona shouldn’t be under any stressful situations, what could also affect her health at the moment. She felt bad for putting her through that.

“Let’s take you to my room,” she helped her to get up. “It’s almost time for your meds.”

———-

“Hmmm,” Mona though, holding a picture she found on Allison’s desk, “too much for a Mr. Perfect.”

Griffin Carlson, she had learned. Allison’s stupid father wouldn’t shut his mouth about that playboy guy in the last few hours, counting his accomplishments and titles. For her knowledge, of course. She had to know Allison was engaged to someone better than a criminal. His father was not only an important doctor and researcher, but the hospital’s current chief. Yet, Mona couldn’t help thinking there was something odd in the family in that portrait. They were…

“too good to be true,” she put the picture back in place, grabbing another one. It was Allison in her graduation party. She looked even more stunning than in her Prom. Except that this time her date was another. Mona rolled her eyes. “Screw you, Mr. Diamond.”

“Does Dr. Carlson or Griffin know about it?” She heard Mr. Wheeler shouting in the living room. Her curiosity was bigger than her pain, so she approached the door to listen better.

“No,” Allison answered. “And you’re not telling them.”

“Oh, why not? Why not heat things up a little bit more?” Mona thought, with a devilish smirk on her face.

“Of course not. If they find out you’re giving shelter for a dangerous criminal, who used to be your girlfriend, Griffin will break your engagement immediately. You may even lose your internship.”

Her smirk grew even bigger in satisfaction with a few of the words pronounced. Dangerous Criminal, that made her feel kinda important somehow. MPC must have given the Detective a hard time in the past. Girlfriend, she never thought about Allison as her girlfriend, they didn’t really have time to determine their relationship. She always thought about her as a lover, an affair. Something more impossible to reach.  Break your engagement immediately. That part made her almost text Mr. Diamond with the news, but that one last part stopped her from wanting it. You may even lose your internship. Though she could tell Allison was conflicted about her career, the last thing she wanted was to jeopardize her job. It was true, Dr. Carlson’s snobbish ass wouldn’t be thrilled with the news. After all, Allison should be breaking a few rules from what she earlier called ‘Doctor-Patient Protocol’.

The noise of the front door slamming shut and footsteps heading to the bedroom made her quickly return to bed, where she finally noticed a mural of pictures on the wall. Those were the most important moments in Allison’s life and her Prom, where Mona was her date, was not included in them.

“You’ve kept your promise after all,” she sighed with some disappointment.

———-

“Does Dr. Carlson or Griffin know about it?” Her father asked before leaving for work.

“No,” Allison kept her focus on the food she was preparing to Mona. “And you’re not telling them.”

“Of course not. If they find out you’re giving shelter for a dangerous criminal, who used to be your girlfriend, Griffin will break your engagement immediately. You may even lose your internship.”

He slammed the door shut. Allison took a deep breath, trying to recompose herself. Then, she prepared a tray of food and took to Mona.

“Hey,” she smiled. “I know this isn’t what you really wanted but… it’s better than the hospital’s food.”

Mona was still silent, as she had been after the discussion with Mr. Wheeler. She had fallen asleep for a couple of hours, then Allison offered her help to take a shower, which she refused. She hadn’t hear another word from her ever since.

Before starting eating, Mona pointed to the bedroom’s wall.

“Your mural of pictures,” she gave a small, ironic laugh. “There isn’t a single pic of your prom. See? It wasn’t so hard to forget.”

“I-I…” she tried to explain the pictures were in a box in the garage, where Mr. Wheeler had been hiding for years, but Mona didn’t give her enough time.

“I’m glad you kept your promise, Allison. I apologize for putting us both in this situation. As you, I didn’t want it.”

“It’s not your fault. And I’m the one who must apologize for my father’s behavior.”

“I understand him. He’s right to be concerned. After all, with everything that happened you could’ve been in jail… or shot.”

“Still doesn’t give him the right to treat you like…”

“An ex-con? It wasn’t the first and won’t be the last. Until I restart my life somewhere else, this is how I’ll be constantly treated.”

After dinner, Allison turned on the TV, but it didn’t take long for Mona to fall asleep again. Her body was still weak from her illness and from the surgery. She tucked her with a blanket and arranged her pillows. She couldn’t stop thinking about her plans of going away again.

“Don’t go away…” she whispered close to her ear. “You don’t have to be alone, not anymore.”

“Stop it, Doc,” Mona mumbled in her sleep. “Or I may get used to this again.”

Later in the guest room, she close the door behind her and ignored Griffin’s calls for the third time. She threw herself on the bed, unable to stop thinking of Mona’s words.

“As you, I didn’t want it.“

“Wrong, Mona. Maybe this is exactly what I wanted, what I wished for all these years…” she bit her lower lip, with a little bit of acceptance and a hint of regret.