#yet she behaved the entire time and even slept at several points

[motherhenna]

My pretty girl! Y'all Liesel's been so good: I've only heard her bark once this whole time. Doesn't know most basic obedience commands, but she's eager to please so it's been pretty easy teaching her not to jump on us or climb over the baby gate. So mellow too: definitely a factory-deficient husky lmao

more Liesel pics! She's settling in very well.

[cuntycassandra]

Discussing Omega’s childhood on Kamino

Maybe I’m one of the only people curious about this as we’re all very hung up on Crosshair right now (understandable, I want our king back too), but I would really like a conversation between Omega and preferably Hunter, but anybody works fine, to delve into what her life was truly like on Kamino. How she was treated, raised, reprimanded, and how this all reflects on her relationship with the bad batch, and specifically in moments where their actions have fatherly intent behind them.

So, here’s what we know so far:

She was essentially raised by Nala Se.

She’s a first gen/holds unmodified Jango Fett DNA. Whether she was created at the same time as Boba, we don’t know, although it is unlikely.

Due to the fact she was unaltered, she must’ve been raised from infancy on Kamino.

She wasn’t allowed her own bedroom, so I speculate she either slept in the medical wing or had some sort of shared quarters with Nala Se.

She was frequently tested and experimented on, quite often against her will.

She was perceived to be property and nothing more than an evaluative source to help further Kaminoan research by everybody excluding Nala Se (potentially)

Her title role was a ‘medical assistant’.

She didn’t have a very warm relationship with the other clones, as we’ve seen they labelled her a “lab scrapper”.

She made friends with the existing medical staff, who were all droids.

And that is essentially it. Of course, we can make speculations, (a few of mine are: she must’ve been tormented by the other cadets for not being like them, she knew 99 and he kept her company whenever Nala Se left her alone, and that although she was educated accordingly for her medical training and basic education, she was very sheltered from things without ‘purpose’ to her life (as we all know, the Kaminoans don’t do anything without purpose) but we don’t actually know anything else about her time on Kamino!

First of all I really want to know WHY she was created. Taking into account she isn’t the same age as Boba (it’s very much suggested she isn’t, I mean she acts, looks, sounds and is treated significantly younger than Boba ever was), and Jango also didn’t request two unaltered clones, she must’ve been created a few years after Boba. Therefore, was Jango aware of her existence? And if he was, did he want her? Again, if so, what did Boba think of her? (We don’t actually see Omega’s reaction to being told she’s different, so although she might not have known of their exact relations to her, it’s very likely she could’ve potentially met Jango and Boba at some point.) So many questionsssss.

Moving on, I’d love to know more about her relationship with Nala Se. We’ve seen that the doctor has a soft spot for Omega, most definitely because she raised and grew to love her instead of deeming her a piece of property (not excusing Nala Se’s vile actions with the other clones, she can still rot, Omega has better parental figures now.), but was it always like that? Did she neglect smaller Omega for being just another clone? Before ‘Mega could show personality and differentiate herself, did Se still view her as nothing more then a test subject? How did that affect her relationship with Omega as a young child.

Speaking of which, what was Omega then like as a smaller child (hard to believe, she’s still so smol lmao), but I’m talking toddler age here. She is basically a regular person, going through regular human changes due to the fact she isn’t altered, which means she would’ve had all of those wretched toddler phases that parents dread. We can most likely assess that she was playful and curious, she still is now, bless her, but how was it received? Smaller children don’t have the complexity to understand the level of technicality that the Kaminoans work at, she wouldn’t have understood the necessity of sitting still and behaving, would she have been severely reprimanded? Was Nala Se nice to her about it? How was she raised to interpret mannerisms of other people in regards to this?

Furthermore, I want to know what tests they were performing on her too. She’s clearly important due to her first hand DNA, but before that was an asset, before the Kaminoans needed that, what were they doing to her? Why were they testing on her? How much pain was she in? Did she receive any comfort afterwards or was she expected to dry her eyes and get on with it? (I’m speculating it was the latter.) I need to know what they were doing and why. What was the purpose!

Her entire previous life is a huge mystery to us and I want to know more! And I hope I’m not the only one!

Just looking at her precious little face hurts because we know she didn’t receive the ideal childhood, if anything it was borderline abusive (I mean, not just testing on her, but the mind games the Kaminoans played with this poor kid, the fact she was well aware she was just an asset to their research and yet she constantly received mixed messages. It’s no wonder she idolised the bad batch so much; they seemed to be the only people who hadn’t either treated her like garbage at some point up until then, or died. Honestly despite the few slip ups, props to them for actually taking her in and being decent towards her.

I mean, this isn’t the purpose of this post, but just look at the comparisons.

She finally receives her own bedroom.

Said bedroom isn’t even a proper room, but they made do with what they could. She even acknowledges this and she still absolutely loves it. It’s decked out just for her with fairy lights, blankets and toys.

As said, she actually owns toys now, we don’t know if she ever did on Kamino, but I’m speculating it was most likely very few if any at all.

She has her own weaponry and equipment, she’s actually being assisted to defend herself and her squad, she’s gaining knowledge the Kaminoans wouldn’t have ever dreamed of giving her.

As we’ve seen with the amount of times she runs to Hunter for protection, she trusts them immensely. They’re doing everything right to gain her apprehensive trust so quickly.

And of course it isn’t just with Hunter (I’m a stan so pardon my consistency with bringing him up) but she’s the same with the entire batch, even Cross to a very mild extent! She trusts Wrecker with her life, she forgave him so easily after the Bracca incident because she knows the difference between someone purposefully trying to hurt her and them having no control over their actions.

We see she’s been patient with Echo and Tech, she loves to listen to them, she’s picked up on Tech’s dialect (as seen in episode seven) and she trusts him to help her whenever necessary, she has such a touching bond with Echo too, their little interactions melt my heart.

I could rant for hours about her bond with Hunter, so maybe that should be it’s own post at some point, but honestly just how she always seeks him out specifically for comfort, protection and reassurance. It’s so beautiful.

The way she’s addressed Crosshair over their few co-existent moments too. She’s tried to reassure him it isn’t his fault, because she knows it isn’t, she trusts him because she has no reason not too, everything he’s done and said to her hasn’t been within his control.

These are all severely different reactions to how she responds to both the Kaminoans on planet, whenever they’re mentioned, and from what we know in regards to how they treated her.

I’m repeating myself from a previous post here but honestly petition to give Megs all the hugs in the universe. She deserves ‘em. 💛

[messagefromtheveins]

Hi! Thank you for wanting to give it a try, that's so nice of you. I have these two ideas for Sebastian one shots. One of them is where reader and Seb are dating and rarely fight, but lately reader has been acting strangely (like coming home late, secret phone calls...) and Seb thinks she's cheating on him and confronts her but what it is really happening is that she was organizing a surprise party for his bday and when he finds out he feels really bad for thinking she could do that to him?

Usually I try to avoid posting on weekends, but I also didn't want to keep this from you any longer. Thank you for sending this request and giving me some much needed inspiration! :) I hope this is kind of what you wanted it to be. (also, I'm still working on your second request, but I'm a little more stuck on that than I was on this one, so no promises. But I haven’t given up yet)

It was nearing midnight when he finally heard the door open and close downstairs, a feeling of relief rushing through his chest. Tossing his toothbrush into the little cup, he ran a hand through his wet hair to push it back while he stepped out of the bathroom and made his way downstairs.

You were standing at the kitchen island, your bag carelessly tossed on the counter. Eyes trained on your phone, you hadn't noticed him yet as you stared at the screen with a little frown on your face, your thumbs flying over the keyboard.

"Hey, hon'," he spoke up in a quiet murmur, his eyebrows furrowing in surprise and confusion as you visibly flinched, almost dropping your phone.

"Jesus, you scared the hell out of me," you giggled a bit breathlessly and placed your phone down on the kitchen island before you approached him. "Didn't know if you'd still be awake," you added, his eyes not leaving yours as you loosely wrapped your arms around his neck.

"'was just getting ready for bed," he mumbled, giving you a fond smile while his hands slipped around your waist. "Have you been at work all this time? I've tried calling you a few times but I always went straight to voicemail."

"Uh, yeah. I've been in a conference call that took forever."

He wanted to believe you, he really did. But the way you shifted your gaze to somewhere behind him, effectively avoiding his eyes, was a dead giveaway that you were lying. "With your cell phone?"

"Yeah, it was-" breaking off, you sighed deeply and shook your head, your gaze meeting his confused one again. "You know what, it really doesn't matter. Point is, I've had a long day and I'm tired and I missed you," your bottom lip jutted up into a pout that made him chuckle softly.

Arms tightening around you, he pulled you flush to his chest and noticed the way your features immediately relaxed. He decided to drop the topic for now as your lips met his in a tender kiss. You clearly didn't want to talk about it, so he wouldn't push. He knew that if it really bothered you, then you would talk to him at some point.

But boy was he wrong. It dragged on for nearly two weeks. Two weeks of you being glued to your phone and coming home late more often than not, seeming to grow more and more distant with each passing day. At first he was worried that you were overworking yourself, that something or someone at work made you feel like you couldn't take a break without falling behind.

Though, it all changed when he realized that you left the room every single time your phone rang or you excused yourself to call someone. You had never done that ever since he had met you almost three years ago, no matter if it was a work related call or a simple chat with your friends. From that moment on anxiety ate him up on the inside- worries of you seeing someone else kept him up at night while you peacefully slept next to him.

And he was so close to confronting you several times, to ask you what the hell was going on behind his back, but then you always gave him that smile that he had fallen in love with all those years ago and he chickened out. Every single time. He knew he couldn't accuse you of something so horrible without having any real evidence.

He was so caught up in everything that had happened lately that he didn't even properly realize his birthday had crept up on him until you crawled on his lap one night and gave him a wide smile.

"Happy birthday, Seb," your voice was quiet and tender, hands gentle as you cupped them around his cheeks. His gaze briefly shifted to the nearest clock, his confusion quickly morphing into a surprised expression as he realized that it was midnight. "Oh, shit. I didn't even realize- thank you, hon'," he chuckled, gladly accepting the soft kiss you placed on his lips.

The 90's show playing on the TV was long forgotten as you combed a hand through his hair. "Do you want to do anything special tomorrow? Or more like today?"

He pulled a shoulder up in a half-shrug. "I wish, but I can't. My entire day is packed with meetings," he told you and smiled as you gave him a little pout.

"That's a bummer," you sighed softly. "You could text me when you're on the way home so I can make dinner for us, how about that?" you suggested, his lips immediately stretching into a grin.

"That sounds perfect."

–—–—–—–—–—–

He hated meetings. They were always insanely boring and he tended to drift off a lot, having too much time to think- in this case, about you. About the weird way you had behaved lately and how it was slowly driving him insane.

By the time he was on his way home he was so worked up that he felt like exploding, his jaw clenched as he unlocked the front door to the apartment. He couldn't take this any longer, not while it was eating him up on the inside. "Honey?" he called, tossing his keys aside and wrestling out of his jacket, hearing your socked footsteps approaching.

"Hey, babe," you smiled and stepped over to him, arms reaching out to him.

Babe. A stupid little nickname was the breaking point. You had never called him that before and he couldn't help but wonder if you called someone else babe and this was just a slip up.

"We need to talk," he spoke up, his voice firm and serious. You immediately faltered in your movements, the smile on your lips slowly dying as you looked at him with confusion written in your eyes. Briefly glancing over your shoulder towards the dark living room, you looked into his eyes again and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

"Is everything okay?" you wanted to know, your voice soft and eyes worried and for a short moment he wondered how the hell he could ever accuse you of something so horrible.

Running a hand through his hair, he rubbed his palm over his jaw in an anxious way. "Are you cheating on me?" he asked. The firmness his voice had previously held was gone, instead replaced by insecurity and anxiety, a bit of a tremble lingering in the words.

Lips parting in surprise, you looked at him with wide eyes. "Why- Sebastian, what-" you stumbled over your words. He wanted nothing more than to take the words back as he noticed the hurt and disbelief written in your eyes.

"Honey, I don't- you're always coming home so late these days, you know?" he tried to explain, nervously fiddling around with his fingers. "And you're constantly on the phone. You're always leaving the room when someone calls and you've never done that before. It feels like you're suddenly keeping everything secret from me and I- I don't know what to think anymore."

The last few words left his lips in a defeated sigh, his shoulders slumping under the weight they had been carrying for weeks at that point. Hurt. Betrayal. That was all he saw in your eyes as you looked at him, not saying a word. "Please just tell me that I'm wrong," he whispered as you stayed silent for too long.

Reaching out and taking his hands into yours, you walked backwards and pulled him along, ignoring the confusion on his features. You let go of one of his hands to hit the light switch as you stepped into the living room.

"... Surprise."

It wasn't a joyful cheer like it usually was in the movies, instead more of a hesitant mutter as several pairs of eyes looked at you and him with uncertainty written in them. Colorful balloons decorated the room and he could see a birthday cake with tons of candles on the table behind you, but he didn't really concentrate on it. His whole attention was on you. He had fucked up big time.

"Happy Birthday," you whispered, though he could see that you were fighting back the tears.

–—–—–—–—–—–

Needless to say, your guests didn't stay for too long. Before the last person properly left the apartment you had disappeared, somehow managing to avoid him for over an hour while he cleaned up the living room and put the untouched cake into the fridge.

By the time he had changed into more comfortable clothes you had somehow snuck into the kitchen without him noticing. He found you sitting on the counter, digging into a bowl of ice cream and avoiding his gaze until he stood right in front of you. No words were exchanged as you finally met his blue eyes, nothing but silent apologies written in them, while his hands gently and almost hesitantly came to rest on your thighs.

Holding your spoon between your teeth, you didn't take your eyes off him as you reached to the side, blindly grasping for the second spoon you had grabbed earlier. He couldn't help but smile as you held it out to him. "You could've taken a slice of the cake, you know," he spoke up while taking the spoon from you only to place it aside again.

You shook your head. "It's yours," you mumbled around a mouthful of ice cream, "it would be so rude of me to take the first piece."

"But I don't deserve it anymore."

His voice was so quiet that you barely caught it. Eyebrows furrowing, you studied his features with a heavy heart while he kept his gaze trained on the bowl in your hands. "Seb..."

Quickly placing the bowl and spoon away, you cupped your cold hands around his face. Deep worry lines were visible on his forehead as his gaze hesitantly met yours. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, guilt clear in his voice.

Gently combing a hand through his hair, you couldn't help but smile as he leaned in to place a lingering kiss on your forehead. "I'm sorry, too."

"What? Why?" he asked, confusion written all over his face. "Hon', I'm the one who fucked up," he reminded you and continued before you could try to speak up, "I hurt you. I accused you of something horrible even though I never thought that you'd actually be that kind of person. I ruined the whole birthday party. I humiliated you in front of all our friends."

Your thumbs brushed over his cheeks while you slowly shook your head. "And I was obviously really bad at planning a birthday party behind your back. I clearly pushed you away or acted different around you, otherwise you probably would've never wondered if I was cheating on you."

His features dropped, teeth digging into his bottom lip for a moment. "I should've just talked to you and asked you what's going on, instead of attacking you with an accusation like that," he sighed and leaned into you, a soft smile spreading over your lips as he rested his forehead against your chest. "I'm sorry."

Combing your hands through the short hair at the back of his head several times, you dipped your head down to place a soft kiss on his head. "Let's just agree to never plan a surprise party ever again?"

He was quiet for a moment before he chuckled softly, nodding while he lifted his head again. "Agreed," he grinned. His hands slid from your thighs to your hips as you tilted your head in a silent request for a kiss, tugging you closer until your chest was pressed against his. Your lips met in a tender kiss, your hands moving to rest on his shoulders and almost feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch. "Are we okay?" he whispered once he pulled back, receiving a nod of your head.

"Very okay," you breathed and found his lips in another peck. He couldn't help but smile against your lips, barely able to stay away from you now that he knew you weren't mad at him.

"There's just... another… tiny problem," he mumbled between soft kisses.

"What is it?"

"That's a massive cake and I don't know who's supposed to eat all of that," he murmured, grinning as you tossed your head back and laughed.

"I'm sure we'll figure something out," you giggled.

[thefanficmonster]

Sweet Dreams

The Clarkes (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) & Child!Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: Domestic (Family) Fluff

Summary: When little Y/N is finally given a home by the Clarkes family, she’s rightfully very shy and apprehensive as any toddler would be when surrounded by strangers and finding herself in a new surrounding. Luckily, all the members of the Clarke family are nothing short of sweet and welcoming towards her, getting her warmed up to her new life almost instantly.

Happy birthday, @artlovingbre! I hope this reaches you in time despite the time difference and whatnot but anyhow - I hope you have a wonderful day and enjoy the best birthday you’ve had yet. Thank you for giving me the honor of writing this sweet and adorable fanfic as a gift for your birthday. I hope the final product lives up to your expectations. Once again, happy birthday! Enjoy your special day and this fanfic I’ve written you! Lots of love, Vy ❤

Safely strapped into the car seat with a seatbelt, the five-year-old Y/N fidgets with her hands resting in her lap, too shy to look up. Her reaction to the sudden change is completely understandable. In fact, the woman running the foster home mentioned that Y/N had handled the news of being adopted much better than other kids had in the past. The woman - Mrs. Jones - mentioned to James and Anne on several occasions how special of a girl Y/N is. Wise beyond her years and with a heart of gold, she had said the second Anne pointed the little girl out to James when they had gone to the foster home for the first time. Despite being quiet and reserved when she was sat down with James and Anne so she could meet them, the married couple already knew the little girl was the one they’d want to adopt into their family. Sure, she did come across as shy at the start, but having observed her as she played with the other kids, smiling and giggling like the children her age, Anne and James knew she was a wonderful girl. Truly, a heart of gold.

James is in the driver’s seat, a lot happier than he’s letting on. The idea of adopting another child was entirely Anne’s. After they had adopted Megan, he had never once thought about adopting another child into their already buzzing beehive of a household. Four kids, all at different ages and stages, it could get pretty exhausting and frustrating, especially when the older ones - Tanya and Dennis, to be more specific - would yell at each other from across the house. With these images in mind, James was very opposed to the idea, though he was aware that he’d cave eventually. He could only deny his wife’s wishes for so long but when she brought up the argument of Megan feeling lonely, that’s when she had him in the palm of her hand.

Anne, James’ loving wife is sitting beside the newest addition to the Clarke family in the backseat of their car as they get closer and closer to the house where their four curious children are awaiting to meet their youngest sibling. Anne had been looking at their family as it was - chaotic, dysfunctional even at times with the disagreements and argument among their four kids. Her and her husband had been hoping they’d grow out of this fighting phase and grow to be a lot more tolerant of one another, but the case seemed to be completely opposite. And the more time passed, the more the older kids would argue amongst themselves and occasionally pick on the youngest Megan. It goes without saying that they all love each other dearly, however they love getting on each other’s nerves just as much. Seeing no other way to put her family in balance and seeing her youngest daughter constantly left to the side, ignoring the arguing of her siblings, Anne had made the decision to incorporate a new addition to the family and she was determined to get over any obstacle to make it happen - the only obstacle being her husband and his will which was easily overpowered by her persistence.

The couple couldn’t have possibly chosen a better, sweeter, smarter child. The little girl, in their eyes, is a lot like Anthony and Tanya. Despite her age being closer to Megan’s, the two girls appear to have nothing in common except the childish excitement and goodness of their hearts and their friendliness. With that in mind, James and Anne know the girls would get on just fine. In fact, they know for certain that Y/N will be welcomed and accepted into the family no problem. The only member that worried them and the only one they seriously sat down to give a pep-talk to was Dennis but even he was offended because his parents felt the need to sit him down and instruct him on how to behave. Main reason for that was the fact that he too was just excited to meet his new little sister as was everyone. Of course, he never showed it or expressed it, but deep down he could barely wait for this day to come. He even supported Anthony and Tanya’s argument that they should come along to pick the girl up from the foster home - an argument that was inevitably turned down by James.

“You want to scare the girl before she even comes to our house? I won’t allow it.“ He said, mush to the disappointment of the aforementioned young adults.

In the meantime, as the car glides over the street only three streets away from the Clarkes’ house, all Y/N can do is wonder; think and rethink every possibility of what’s to come. No matter how many adults say she’s such a grown and mature kid, they have no idea what’s going on in her head. Just because she doesn’t go to confine in an adult about the monster under her bed or the one in her closet doesn’t mean she doesn’t fear those monsters. She does, but she’s never wanted to bother anyone else. Her main fear, however, was that haunting sound of the wind howling throughout the old house of Mrs. Jones. The eerie noises produced by the gusts of wind peeking in through the cracks and holes in the walls and around the door and window frames. Those sounds kept her up at night from the very first time she had to sleep in that small room she shared with another girl her age. She never outgrew that fear and on the autumn and nights she barely slept a wink. Now, she hopes she’ll finally be absorbed by the sweet slumber, confined in a warm bed with people that she can call family an arm’s reach away.

Pulling up to the house, Y/N finally looks up, eyes twinkling curiously as she looks up at the modest house standing tall above the vehicle her and her new parents are sitting in at the moment. Looking to the side, she finds Anne’s warm, caring gaze on her, accompanied by a small smile of genuine adoration.

“Here we are.“ James announces, unbuckling his seatbelt with a mildly trembling hand, “Let’s quickly head inside, the kids are probably lining the windows with excitement.“

And that they are. Tanya, Anthony and Megan are all aligned by the living room windows, staring at the vehicle expectantly, waiting to see their sister for the first time. Little do they know, Dennis is doing the exact same thing but by the kitchen window. He’s just as curious, but once again, not as willing to show it.

With her hand held in Anne’s, Y/N steps out of the car, finally getting a good look at the house she’ll be calling home from now on. There’s almost zero hesitation in the steps she takes towards the front door which opens before anyone even gets the chance to place their hand on the doorknob.

Light pours out of the brightly lit hallway out onto the porch, illuminating the married couple and the little girl standing in the slowly falling night.

“Welcome home.“ Anthony is the first one who greets them, more specifically Y/N, while Megan is restlessly shifting from one foot to the other, eager to run up to her new sister, six years her junior, and give her a hug. Tanya’s hold on her shoulders is the only thing preventing her from doing so.

The welcome wagon of three steps aside, allowing James, Anne and Y/N to walk in just as Dennis emerges from the kitchen, his gaze immediately seeking out the youngest member standing in the hallway.

“Y/N, these are your older siblings.” Anne says, motioning to the older kids aligned in front of her, simultaneously flashing them a warning look, “Why don’t you all welcome your sister while I get dinner ready?”

“I’ll help you.“ James chimes in, accompanying Anne in the intention of heading into the kitchen, allowing the kids to give a welcome to Y/N on their own. Though somewhat risky, they are hoping for the best outcome from their first interaction.

As the married couple walks away, the group leads Y/N into the living room where the girl, while still rather shy, finds herself feeling at home and comfortable. She’s curious above all else, though. Looking at the unfamiliar faces, all she wants is to learn more about them.

The one to break the introduction ice is Tanya. She crouches down so she’s at eye level with Y/N and gives her a warm smile. “Hi, Y/N. My name’s Tanya. I’m your older sister. It’s really nice to meet you.“

Surprising the older girl, Y/N steps forward and gives her a hug, opposing her shy and hesitant appearance. “Nice to meet you too.” She whispers before pulling away and looking around at the faces she still doesn’t have names to connect to.   It doesn’t remain that way for long though - Megan, excited that she’s finally able to give her sister a hug, doesn’t hesitate to take the opportunity.

“Hi, I’m Megan! We’ll be sharing a room together! You’re gonna love it! I have a lot of toys we can share too!“ Not bothering to hide her enthusiasm, Megan approaches Y/N grinning at the younger girl who smiles right back at her.

“Do you have stuffed animals? Mine will come tomorrow, but I can’t sleep without them.“ She says timidly, embarrassed by the confession.

“Of course!“ Megan squeals, “You can have them all if you want!“

Anthony is next to introduce himself, earning himself a hug also. However, when Dennis’ turn arrives, he’s rather hesitant on how to approach the situation. He’s not used to these interactions nor is he known for being very nice or welcoming and the last thing he wants is to scare or upset the little girl, leaving her with a bad impression of him.

“And that’s Dennis.“ Tanya says, shooting him a glare as a silent ‘be nice!‘ before changing her expression entirely, giving a Y/N a sweet smile. 

While Dennis remains still as a statue, death-glaring his older sister, Y/N takes a step towards him, offering a shy ‘Hi’ while avoiding eye-contact before giving him a hug too. Stunned and with a breath that has caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat, Dennis wraps his arms around the small girl as if on autopilot. Huffing out the quietest and most reluctant, “Nice to meet you, sis.”

James and Anne pick that exact moment to walk in with the intention of inviting their kids into the dining room where James has already set the table for dinner. They stop mid-step however when they see the scene in front of them - Dennis carefully - and fearfully - hugging his five-year-old sister as though she’s either a porcelain doll he’s afraid to break or an otherworldly being he’s never laid eyes upon before. The parents are debating between laughing and melting at the sight, simultaneously relieved at how well the newest addition to their family has been accepted by the rest of the members. Looking at Anthony and Tanya confirms that the two are thinking the same.

“Come on kids, dinner’s ready.” James announces, wrapping his arm around his emotional and teary-eyed wife’s shoulders, pulling her closer as a non-verbal way of reassuring her he feels the same way as she does.

To the surprise of everyone in the room, instead of letting go of the little girl, Dennis lifts her up into his arms as though she weighs as much as a feather, causing her to yelp and giggle.

“Bet you can’t make it there before Y/N and I can.” He exclaims, dashing past everyone and towards the dining room with the child giggling and squealing in his firm embrace.

If there was any shred of doubt left in James or Anne’s minds, it has now been erased and replaced with ease and joy they have been longing to feel since the moment they picked Y/N up from the foster home.

                                                            *  *  *

Following dinner, Megan and Tanya set up Y/N’s bed with the colorful sheets, pillow and blankets they had bought earlier that week. Megan didn’t forget to lay out a bunch of stuffed animals as well, remembering what Y/N had mentioned about those toys earlier. Meanwhile, Anthony and Dennis were giving Y/N a tour of the ground floor - or at least tried to. Y/N’s attention was immediately stolen by the box containing Dennis’ vinyl records and - much to Anthony’s surprise - he actually let her look through them and examine each and every record without giving her any warning or instructions when it came to how she held, picked up or put down his most prized possessions.

Being the youngest and also exhausted after such a busy day, Y/N was the first one to start yawning while the family sat watching TV in the living room. Anne and James were quick to react, taking the little girl up to the room she’s sharing with Megan. Tucking Y/N in with James’ storytelling filling her ears, Anne couldn’t suppress the pleasant feeling of joy and fulfillment. She plants a loving kiss on the little girl’s forehead just as James closes the story book and sets it on the bedside table, getting up quietly as to now awaken the already asleep kid. With one exchanged look they know exactly what the other’s feeling - shimmering eyes, glowing with fulfillment, genuine smiles, allowing their fondness to shine through. The two exit the room, allowing only the night light to stay one and leaving the door open a crack as a reminder that they are nearby. That she’s not alone. That she has no reason to be scared if she wakes up in the middle of the night.

But she won’t because for the first time the little girl is sleeping as peacefully as a child should be. Not at all bothered by the sound of any winds or thoughts of any monsters that might be lurking in the dark. She’s safe and sound, dreaming sweet dreams in her new loving home.

[vicunaburger]

Admittedly, I’m Hard to See

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical Chapters: 17/? Pairing: Beetlejuice x OC (Holidae) The Players: Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz, Holidae Bell Word Count: 1,924 Warnings: M for Mature Content

Notes: TW: Mentions of Hospitals, Not-Quite Self Harm, Injury

Chapter 17: In Which We Lie by Omission

Toast was a tricky food to master.

Not only did one have to factor in the age and setting of each, individual toaster available, but the thickness of the bread was vital to the equation. There was thin line between “just right” and “burnt offerings”, usually moving from one end of the spectrum to the other in the literal blink of an eye.

Lydia squinted her eyes, peering into the orange glow of the toasting mechanisms, trying to determine the level of toast her bread had achieved. Behind her at the kitchen table, Beetlejuice sat quietly, deep in concentration as he mulled over the newspaper spread out before him. Normally, he could solve the weekly bridge puzzle within a few minutes, but his mind was somewhere else, and the answer was eluding him.

With a soft growl, he erased the notes he had been making in the margins of the puzzle, smacking the bits of eraser off the table with more force than what was needed. The soft scritching of graphite against newsprint started up again, only to be interrupted -again- with muttered curses and furious erasing.

His bestest best friend was town between asking him why he was so irritable that morning, or continuing to monitor her toast situation. Both options were precarious paths to navigate, and both of them could end in misery if she wasn’t being extra careful.

“So… hard hand dealt out this week?” Lydia made the first cautious move, still focused on her breakfast. “It’s always the diamonds that get me. You get week after week without them, and then the whole hand is littered with them. Do you think actual bridge is easier to play? I mean, after you scour the world for two other people that not only know but can play it.”

There was no response from the spectre; not even a sound of half-assed acknowledgement.

Concern overtook caution, and Lydia turned to face the dead silent man at the table. Beej was just staring at the paper now, the pencil being thoroughly chewed to bits within the maw of teeth he sported, the end dangling like a cigarette out of the corner of his mouth. Reaching over the table, she snapped her fingers close to his face, trying to get his attention.

“What did I tell you about eating pencils? Quit- quit doing that! You’re gonna drool all over the table.” The petite woman snatched the pencil away from him, raising her voice a little. “Earth to BJ? You in there today?”

He snapped upright with a frown, licking his teeth free of graphite and wooden splinters like an animal, “Did my little Holly-Jolly have a cat?”

Blinking, she took in his navy blue appearance, the space around him seeming to shift like it was an out of focus photo, “A what- oh god, my toast!”

Lydia plucked the now charred pieces of bread out of the toaster, setting them on a plate as smoke gently wafted into the air. Grumbling, she sat down that the table across from him, grabbing a butter knife and attempting to scrape away the burnt coating.

“A cat? Nah, Holli’s allergic to most animals.” She replied, glancing back at the empty bread box on the counter, “Ugggh, out of bread. Knew I should have sent her to the store…”

“Holidae lied to me.” Beetlejuice’s reply was flat, spoken from low in his chest. “Why would she lie to me, Lyds?”

The crunching of the knife against crispy bread stopped immediately at his use of Holidae’s proper name. Lydia’s brain started clocking a thousand impulses a minute, going through several ways to continue the conversation without endangering herself or the house.

“Okay… okay… we need to back this conversation up really fast because you jumped the tracks on me, buddy.” She continued to work on her breakfast, trying to keep the atmosphere light. “What did she supposedly lie about?”

“The cat,” one clawed finger started picking at a small hole in the tablecloth.

She waited to see if he would elaborate before trying again, “She told you she had a cat? Alright, that’s not a huge offense yet, so what was the context? I can’t answer the question without all the facts, Beej.”

Beetlejuice was tearing the tablecloth now, “We were takin’ a shower-”

Lydia grimaced, “I want you to keep any sleazy, porno-riffic details to yourself, or I won’t help you.”

“Nothin’ happened in the shower.” There was a flash of his usual humor peeking through the distress, but only for a moment. “She’s got these big scar things on her arms so I asked her and she said it was a cat. But if she never had a cat, then she lied right to my face. I lie to other people, sure, but nobody lies to me. Not anymore. No offense.”

“None taken,” she shook her head, sighing heavily. “Unfortunately, this is not an adventure I can lead you on, my friend. I am not in charge of Holli’s personal… things. Don’t ask her about it, don’t mention it again. Forget you saw anything and move along.”

She waved her hand in a Jedi-like fashion, earning her a deeper frown from the ghoul. Exhaling a long breath of air, Lydia stuck an unburnt bit of toast into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. If she just spilled all of Holli’s dirty laundry to BJ, there was a very good chance Holidae would drag her to the third floor and toss her out an open window. If she kept quiet like a church mouse, Beej could very well do the same thing; and truth be told she was not ready to spend an entire afterlife being annoyed by the ghostly guide.

Better the devil you know?

“I will tell you once and only once: you are not allowed followup questions, nor are you allowed to interrupt me for any reason. Capice?” Lydia stuck out her hand for him to shake, knowing tempting him a deal would get him to behave for the time being.

The force at which he smacked his palm against hers, coupled with the grip he took hold of her hand, made her wince in discomfort. She could hear the faint popping sound between her knuckles as he squeezed extra hard, pulling his hand away with an unwavering stare. Lydia rubbed her hand gingerly, pouting as she tried to think of where to even start. Certain tidbits of information could be dangerous if let slip to him by accident; the ghost tended to err on the side of literal meanings of certain idioms or phrasing, which wasn’t helpful when trying to explain a serious topic in a less-serious way.

“Yes, they were self-inflicted. No, they weren’t intentional.” Lydia began, gauging his reaction carefully. “You ever notice that when she gets nervous, she starts to scratch at her skin? Like she’s suddenly itchy?”

The spectre nodded, but kept quiet to honor his ‘no interruptions’ caveat.

“Holli has these… instances where she gets too much into her own head. Not literally. She just starts thinking about different things too much and starts to forget to pay attention to where she is or what she’s doing in the moment. There was something�� someone upset her-” She stopped herself, fumbling over the words as she spoke them.

“Someone?” He couldn’t help himself, digging his claws into the table.

“Irrelevant.” She snapped, “The point is, when Holli forgets things, she tends to forget important things like eating or sleeping… breather functions. It used to be really bad in college, before she started managing it better.

Lydia watched him carefully as he listened intently, taking note of his solemn mood, “Well, I went on that trip with dad and Delia a few summers ago, remember? And I didn’t… hadn’t paid attention to the fact Holli was having an episode. She always told me not to fret about her, since she was an adult and… well…”

She paused, taking another bite of toast. Even though Holidae never once put the responsibility of her mental health upon her, deep down, Lydia regretted not catching the early warning signs of Holidae’s episode. Lydia was still dealing with her own internalized issues, and Holli always told her to take care of herself more than anyone else.

Beej tilted his head sharply, knowing his friend was thinking hard about something, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it could be. Lydia only thought that hard when she was trying to concoct a lie, or spare him some tedious details that wouldn’t have made sense to a demon like him. Breather details. Things he never had to experience, or things he never needed to consider.

Swallowing her toast, she continued softly, “When I got back, Holli had been admitted into the hospital. They said she hadn’t slept in days, which made her vividly hallucinate random things in the middle of classes; it’s why her arms are torn up. From what the doctors could understand, she claimed she needed to ‘remove the layers’ because there was something wrong? Or she said it was burnt somehow? She doesn’t remember anything… not even me being gone! The first thing she asked me when I saw her in the hospital was if I had missed my flight. It had been a week since I told her goodbye.”

Lydia let out a humorless laugh; memories of her friend hooked up to machines like Frankenstein’s monster with wires all over flooded her mind. Holli looking like death warmed over, sitting confused in the hospital bed and picking idly at a cup of jell-o.

Holidae had been more concerned about her. Her vacation. Not even comprehending her situation until a few days later.

Wisely, the young lady did not disclose the gruesome details of Holidae’s recovery to her demonic pal. Something deep in her gut told her that he wouldn’t have been thrilled to learn about the agonizing healing process; long nights unable to find relief as the skin stitched back together. Pain killers only did so much.

“Just… don’t bring up the scars again, okay?” Lydia sighed, a bit relieved to get that weight off of her shoulders.

Sometimes, it was good to talk things out with a third party; human status notwithstanding. Before Beetlejuice could give any sort of response, the front door opened, the sound of keys clattering into a ceramic dish filling the silence.

“Lyddy, they were out of that weird cereal you like, so I got you the off brand in the industrial sized bag. Should last a few decades.” Holidae’s voice carried into the kitchen, causing both Lydia and Beej to turn toward the entryway to the hall.

In a flash, the demon vanished from his seat at the table, reappearing in the foyer much to Holidae’s shock. With a snap of his fingers, the bags she was balancing in her arms were neatly placed on the kitchen counter, and Holidae herself was wrapped tightly within his grasp.

“Whoa… hey, Juice, are you okay? I was only gone for like an hour.” Holidae was muffled against his coat, half her face pressed into his shoulder.

“Exactly! A whole hour! What if something cool had happened and you weren’t around to see it? Or you might have been kidnapped by angry lawn gnomes! Which means I would have to heroically charge in and save you from their clutches, and of course you would reward me with a night of hot, passionate- oh. You know what? That sounds super special awesome.” He was babbling, pressing sloppy kisses all over her forehead. “Go back out and make yourself attractive to lawn gnomes. Go GO GO!”

Quietly, Lydia listened from the kitchen, surprised that Beej actually listened to her warnings about keeping Holidae unaware of what she had told him.

Then again, there was no guarantee he would keep that promise for long.

Writing Tags: @hoodoo12 @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @a-subconscious-manifestation @asriells @missihart23 @heknowshisherbs @mrgeuse @amywright @beetlebitchywitch

[children-ofthe-wind]

Depression + My unsafe upbringing

*Trigger warning, just in case*

I thought I had finished journaling for the day, but something else came up.

I realized today... that I've had depression this entire time. I just hid it so well from even myself.

I knew I had depression from a young age, but somewhere along the way, I thought I had healed it. Instead, what I did was, I numbed out all the pain because it was too much. This seems to be a big theme in my life.

I remember several times over in which I did this. The time I ended the relationship with my fiancee is the first thing that comes to my mind. I remember crying so hard after I came back from Japan, because I had just broken up with him before I left there. I had nothing left to distract me, so it hit me hard. I remember slumping over the sink, crying so hard and screaming. I couldn't hide it anymore, I was hurting. I remember my dad rushing in and I told him what happened. He didn't seem to care much. Then my grandma came in, tried to tell me to get over it. So I kept the pain to myself.

Feeling the hurt now, I understand why I numbed it out. It hurts a lot. Literally 4 days of non-stop crying. Years worth of emotions being felt in a few days. It really fucking sucks. I seem to be numbing out in a certain way now too. I feel like I don't care. When I was at the park just now, I didn't want to necessarily die, but I thought, "If I were to die now, I'd be okay with that."

How did I come to realize that today? Well, it was actually the way I was behaving. Not caring. Being irritated very easily. Wanting to be alone and not talk to anyone. Being angry for no reason. Feeling sadness randomly. feeling very fragile like being able to cry at the drop of a pen. Then I started realizing, wait... this just feels like am amplified version of what I feel daily. On the daily, I get irritated easily. I don't like being around people for long. The littlest things can make me cry or make my chest hurt. Feeling a sense of sadness when I would go outside, like I didn't belong there. That something was wrong. Then I started thinking, wait... If I'm in this depressive state feeling this way, then does that mean I've always been in a depressive state? I looked up some symptoms and sure enough... I realized my depression never left me. It just sunk in deeper, and was numbed out better. And it all made sense. The therapist I had been seeing even diagnosed me with anxiety and depression. I thought she didn't know what the hell she was talking about because I was fine. I still liked to go out. I slept well. I laughed and had fun. Because of that, I actually stopped seeing her. But now I'll have to go back and apologize... I never ever thought it could have been me. It's so scary to me that I hid it so well that not even I knew I was depressed. But anyone with a mental health education could see it. It's always the ones that smile the brightest. Now that I know this... I don't know, the world feels kind of different. I feel so unsafe again. I guess that makes sense as to why I kept attracting depressed people into my life, even in my last relationship.

Speaking of unsafe though... it reminded me of my childhood upbringing. How I tend to dissociate, space out a lot and how easily ungrounded I can get.

I remembered, when I was taking this esoteric program, she mentioned that the people that dissociate or run away from their feelings tend to have not had a safe birth. By this, it means when one was in the womb, things the Mother was going through were typically very unsafe situations/circumstances. That was my exact circumstance. When I was in the womb, my Mother was dealing with an abusive husband. Physically, verbally, mentally abusive. My soul was not able to safely come into the body. My soul itself felt not safe. This shows in the way the kid grows up too. These emotions I had were too big for me at the time to express. I was fucking terrified of my dad. Every day was fucking HELL. I can't even express how scared I was to even be alive. To be in the same house as him. That's why I said in a previous post that it was like he was possessed by some kind of demon. I was living in survival mode my ENTIRE childhood. I can't even remember a lot of it because of the dissociation. There are things my mom told me that happened with my dad that I don't even remember, even when these things involved me. I blocked it out so much because it was too hard to process.

And I feel so fucking angry. WHY me. WHY the fuck did I have to be the one to endure this. Why do I have to be the one to break the generational curses. To feel all the things no one before me was able to feel. Why couldn't I just have a safe childhood, instead of one where my soul wasn't even able to completely come into this planet. And I've been told this before, that I have a connection to the spiritual plane and now I fucking know why; because my fucking soul is somewhat there and somewhat here. It makes sense with my Pisces rising too. I want to be so angry. So angry at my dad, at the Universe for making me put up with this shit. Mad at my own soul for choosing this fucking shit. I didn't choose this, Daisy didn't choose this. No way in Hell I would want this shit. If I could have a normal life... I think I'd trade it instead of this one. But I know I can't be angry at anyone because I know my dad was that way because his parents fucked him up and their parents fucked them up, and it all goes somewhere. I can't be mad at the Universe because it doesn't even care. Well not that it doesn't care, but it just takes this as a learning experience. But is that really justified to put yourself through something like this. I can't even properly love because of this stupid shit. Why me. Just why. Why why why why. I don't even know who to be angry at. I feel like I'm just cursing at the wind, fist shaking. I know this anger is so internalized to myself as well. I don't know what to do at this point. It feels like my world has been turned upside down for the, who knows how many times.

I've never felt safe my entire life, man. Not during birth. Not during childhood. Not any time before. I still feel unsafe in the environment I'm in, being in the home where much of the abuse occurred. I can understand why Coast did what he did... I know he endured a lot of the same pains. Had I not dissociated and numbed a lot of my own pain out, I would've ended up like him. In fact, I almost did. I did and have tried killing myself. I've tried self harm before. Yet, it was like none of those memories were me, because of how dissociative I was at that time. All my life, I've lived that way. So much so that I can't remember a lot of parts of my life. So much that these memories I do have, those versions of me, they feel like they aren't me.

Even now, I feel some kind of numbing occurring and I hate it. I don't know how to stop it. I'm trying to get grounded and stay in my body. I'm really trying.

[huntertales]

Part Two: Wicked Witch of the West. (Slumber Party S09E04)

Episode Summary: The reader and the boys call in I.T. expert Charlie Bradbury to help track fallen angels with technology found in the Men of Letters bunker. However, they soon discover something more in the form of the one and only Dorothy from Wizard of Oz. Everyone joins forces to take down the Wicked Witch and her evil plans. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 5,020.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

There was nothing more you loved than curling up with Dean in bed to enjoy a little bit of TV and enjoying one another’s company. Sam offered up his room for all of you to stream the show, you took a wild guess that it was because the man was afraid to step into his brother’s room to see a wild assortment of leftover food growing new forms of mold. You reassured him you made sure all half-eaten meals were thrown away and everything was kept in a tiddly order. He reminded you that his room was the one with the TV. And your bedroom was a mere disaster of still unopened boxes from your house and clean clothes thrown around in a manner you swore was organized. All of you settled on the offer and enjoyed a few episodes of the TV series you had heard so much about. 

The bowl of popcorn shared between you and Dean had nothing left but kernels after munching through the episodes that kept your attention with its enjoyable plot and characters. You sipped the remaining mouthfuls of your beer as Dean slid his hand from around your waist and reached for the remote to pause the screen after nearing the end of the final episode on the DVD. 

"Wow. That Joffrey's a dick." Dean felt the need to declare his hatred for a character you had grown to despise yourself from his childish and downright horrific behavior. You didn't think you ever had more of an urge to jump through a TV screen and strangle a fictional character more than you had for that blonde headed bastard.

"Oh, you have no idea. Wait until he—" Charlie smiled at the upcoming plot details you and Dean might want to hear about that would happen in the next season. Before she could get a single word out, the young Winchester promptly stopped her from spilling any details.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Spoilers." Sam warned the redhead. "I haven't read all the books."

"You're gonna read the books?" Dean asked his brother. He didn’t see the point of wasting one’s time reading a fictional version of the same media you could consume in a live action version, no mental imagery required on his part.

You shook your head from the point the older man was missing. Books were not always like the live adaptations. The plot might have been the same from the beginning, but TV versions often strayed from the original material to make their own spin and give the characters new journeys. The reader was able to picture the characters described by how the author saw them and not how the actors were chosen for the role. There was no greater disappointment to a reader when someone chosen turned out to be the opposite of what you spent pages imagining in your head. Not to mention the author was still writing the novels as the show aired. You tried getting yourself into the book until you ultimately failed trying to find interest. You gave the first one to the younger WInchester in hopes he would enjoy them. 

"Yes, Dean. I like to read books—you know, the ones without pictures." Sam shot back with a sarcastic comeback to strike his brother silent. 

You took it upon yourself to finally relieve the ache in your back that started to creep up on you while you were halfway through the fourth episode. You let out a long, drawn out sigh of relief after you got back up to your feet. “Ooh. I have never loved you for talking to me into getting that memory foam mattress more than I do now.” You said to your boyfriend. The price tag made your eyes widen from how expensive it was. In reality you didn’t spend a single penny. And you slept better than you had in a long while. You rubbed your lower back and stretched slightly to make yourself stop feeling twice your age. “I don’t know how you sleep on that thing Sammy.” 

"You're not kidding. This bed is about as comfortable as a brick." Charlie got up from the chair she had been sitting on and switched to the edge of the mattress. She bounced a few times to discover it was painful as it looked. You smiled and leaned against the desk to change up the scenery. Charlie glanced around the room, taking notice of the fifties style attire with not much updated touches to make it personal. "Any plans on moving in anytime soon?"

"I am moved in." Sam said. "This is just my style."

"Yeah, this is style. Old man." You agreed. You took a look around the room yourself to see he didn't do much to give it the Sam Winchester touch except for cleaning out the several decades of dust. He didn't even try to put any effort to make it his own. "You would've really fit into the fifties aesthetics, Sammy. Fifty shades of brown and endless plaid."

"Well, I'm sorry I haven't hung up the 'Hang in there, kitty' poster yet, Y/N. Feel free to redecorate." Sam didn’t like the sarcastic jokes you were saying on his behalf. You rolled your eyes from how he was behaving all of a sudden. "Tell me again how your moving process is going.”

"I'll get there eventually. At least I'm making some kind of effort to make it mine." You said. It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes from your half-hearted excuse. "Are you saying our home's not good enough for the 'Hang in there, kitty' poster?"

"This isn't our home." Sam corrected you. "This is where we work."

You tightly furrowed your brow from the way he was acting. "What's the difference?"

You waited for Sam to give you a reason why he didn't think the bunker was just that, a home. He was the one who helped you persuade Dean into staying here permanently after discovering it for yourself. You thought he would have embraced it with open arms from everything this place had to offer. For once he had a home to call his own. Something that fits him perfectly from the life all of you lead. No one to take it away, no real chance of a monster sneaking in here. You hoped he might have been able to find some sort of comfort here. But it seemed the younger Winchester didn't feel the same way you and his brother did. To say it came as a surprise would have been an understatement. 

Charlie looked between you and the younger Winchester when the both of you did nothing more than stare at one another for a few seconds. It was as if the two of you were waiting for the other one to say something to keep this conversation-turned argument going. You and Sam remained silent. The redhead didn't realize she had triggered such a touchy subject. She shifted her gaze and mumbled something underneath her breath, a weak attempt at trying to relieve the brewing awkward tension.

“All right, well, I'm gonna go get us some more beers.” Dean said, getting himself up from the bed and making his way to the door. ”How about that?”

You polished off your beer when Dean shut the bedroom door behind him, leaving the three of you alone. You set the empty bottle down on the desk and quickly spoke up, not wanting the mood in the room to shift into a subject you didn’t want to discuss while your friend was staying here. 

"So, Charlie," You struck up a conversation you had been meaning to bring up since you heard about the redhead's solo adventures. "what was that all about how hunting isn't magical?"

"Saving people, hunting things, the family business? I am down. But..." Charlie trailed off, making you and the younger Winchester share a curious expression to her hesitance about seeing what hunting was really all about. "I was raised on Tolkien, man. I mean, where is all of this?" She held up the DVD she grabbed to make her point about what she had really been searching out there for. "Where are my white walkers and my volcano and magic ring to throw in the damn thing? Where...Where's my magic quest?"

"Magic, quests...suck. Trust us." Sam scoffed. You had to agree with the younger man about that point. Both of you dealt with your version of fate and quests. It all mapped out to a miserable ending. "They're all dead ends.”

Charlie's shoulders slumped at the possible reality she might have to come to terms with. The few times she had been able to work on a hunt with the three of you had turned out to be sort of fun,  minus the physical and emotional trauma she endured. Charlie was searching for a spark that steamed from a childhood daydream of fighting dragons and saving the princess. An urge that didn’t come along in this kind of lifestyle. 

The supernatural and magic might be real like it was in the books she read, but it was vastly different from the fictional counterparts. It was darker. Scarier. Charlie couldn’t help but find the light in every bad situation. You had a feeling she was going to keep looking for her quest. You were a firm believer everyone had a role to play in life. She had yet to find hers. 

+ + +

The four of you decided to check on the progress of the files Charlie had been downloading to her tablet after giving the progress more than enough time. You made your way down to the control room to see everything was how you left it at first glance. It was when you made your way closer to the outdated machines was when you noticed something was strangely off. You slowed down your pace and looked straight ahead at the strange substance on the wall behind the shelf. You knew for sure it hadn’t been there before. 

“What the hell?” Dean muttered under his breath. The boys approached closer to the shelf as you stayed behind near Charlie as she reached for her tablet to check on things. "Sam give me a hand."

You placed your hands on your hips and watched as the brothers pushed away the shelf out of the way, revealing something you had never seen before. Almost the entire wall was covered in a grayish color cocoon. You were tempted to poke at the substance to see what it felt like in order to figure out what it might be, but your squeamish disgust kept your feet planted where they were. Dean took out a knife from his pocket and slid the blade through the substance, cutting deep enough of a makeshift entrance to discover what might be hiding inside. You weren't exactly sure what you were expecting to find in there. A human arm falling out was not one of them. 

Dean stepped back from the possible danger he was standing next to. You and Sam didn’t waste a second pulling out your guns and pointing it in the direction of where the arm was. The older Winchester waited a moment to see if anything else crawled out. But it seemed you were safe for the time being. Dean opened up the flaps of the makeshift pod wider. A fully grown woman tumbled out and to the ground in doing so. Charlie let out a soft gasp as Dean swiftly grabbed for his weapon if the stranger decided to try and do anything stupid as a way of greeting you all. You slowly made your way forward as Dean leaned down to push the woman on her backside to get a better inspection of her. 

She appeared to be human at first glance. What you found most odd about her was the taste in clothing. They weren't from this decade, or from this century for that matter. You were a little bit tempted to slightly nudge her with your foot when she remained on the ground with no sudden movement. After a few more seconds she started to come around to consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open as she inhaled a deep breath for the first time in God knows how long. The first question that popped in your mind was who the hell she was. 

You and Charlie did a little digging in the archives to discover the mystery visitor was someone you thought was a fictional character in a movie and book series you remembered fondly from your childhood. You made your way back to the control room with the file in hand to see Dorothy was recuperating from her well over seven decade slumber. She sat on the floor with a blanket Sam had provided for her as he tried to get some sort of information out of her. You dropped the file to the computer and briefed Dean with what you and Charlie learned. You stared down at the sepia toned photograph Dorothy sitting on her motorcycle. She sure wasn’t the Judy Garland version you had pictured in your head when you read the books as a child. 

"Holy crap! The first case invested in this bunker involved Dorthy. She and the witch came into this room, and they never came out." Charlie read off the details of the file she hadn't gotten a chance to go through in finer detail. You let out a quiet sigh from how excited she was getting over the hunt you stumbled upon. "This will never stop blowing my mind!"

"Okay, pace yourself, Toto." You whispered to her.

“Oz is real!” She exclaimed with too much eagerness for your personal liking from the situation you were dealing with. You shook your head from the way she was handling all of this. She nudged you with her arm, trying to get you amped up as she was from the things you were learning. “It’s part of the fairy world.” 

“We have to find her.” Dorothy stated. You knew damn well who she was talking about, the wicked witch. Didn’t explain who put her in the glass bottle and left her on the shelf undisturbed for all these decades. The same bottle Dean must’ve accidentally spilled over when he was trying to take off the back panel of the computer.

“No, we have to talk before anyone does anything, okay?” Sam tried to get the woman to focus on the questions she ignored just moments ago. She remained silent, tugging the blanket closer around her body. “Dorothy?”

“Talk? Typical Men of Letters, standing around, having a nice little chat with your noses buried in your books while your little secretaries take notes.” Dorothy rolled her eyes when she glanced in the direction of you and Charlie, thinking standards for how women were only capable of being nothing more than glorified paper pushers. You scoffed at her presumption that was the farthest thing from the truth. She had a lot to catch up on. 

“We’re hunters.” Dean told the woman. 

"And who are you calling a secretary?" Charlie came to both of your defenses at the sexist title. 

“You’re not secretaries? You’re Women of Letters?” Dorothy looked surprised much as she sounded when she asked a question that felt almost impossible. You nodded your head, only making her become more baffled about her surroundings. "W—How long have I been out?"

“That’s why we need to talk. Look, you’ve been gone for over seventy-five years. Now, according to our file, you came here to kill the wicked witch and then you disappeared.” Sam gave the woman a quick refresher to help jog her memory in hopes it might fill in the gaps of information that the file couldn’t provide. “What happened?”

“We couldn’t find a way to kill her. So I did the only thing that I could.” Dorothy explained to all of you that led her to the demise, and how you found her the way you did. “A binding spell that came at a price—her soul with mine.”

“So you’ve been frozen with the witch for all this time?” You asked. 

“Yes.” Dorothy answered. She pushed off the blanket and got up to her feet, growing frustrated from all the precious time you were wasting on silly questions that weren’t going to lead the search for the witch any faster. “Look, the witch cannot be killed. If I am awake, then so is she.”

“Wait, if she’s here, why didn’t she kill you?” Sam wondered.

“She can’t.” Dorothy explained. 

“You’re protected by the witch of the North’s kiss.” Charlie jumped into the conversation and told you the reason why. She smiled from her knowledge that she had a feeling was going to come in handy. "It was in the books."

“Oh, forget the books! They’re not important. I’m protected. You aren’t.” Dorothy turned the focus onto an important detail that couldn't go without saying from the danger all of you were under. ”Now, the witch came here looking for something. I have no idea what it is. But we have to find her before she finds it.” 

“All right, all right. Charlie, dig into the files. See if you can find anything that puts a dent in a witch.” Dean instructed a set of plans to somehow get this situation under wraps. “Sam, Y/N and I will have a look-see. Come on.” 

“I’m helping.” Dorothy declared, clapping her hands together. 

"Yeah, I don't doubt it. But for right now, why don't you rest up and help the smartest person in the room?" You suggested to the woman. You glanced over in Charlie’s direction to catch the smile that began to creep on her lips from the subtle compliment. The young woman admitted about her longing for magic and all sorts of adventures, you had a feeling Dorothy could provide some during her stay. “Have fun, girls.”

You and the boys searched much of the grounds as you could together. Neither one of you wanted to take a chance at splitting up and going up against the wicked witch alone if you were unlucky enough. You didn't know how long it had been after she escaped or where she was hiding. You went through several different locations before making your way to the dungeon shortly after, wanting to be sure your other house guest was still locked up tight. The wicked witch and the king of hell teaming up together wasn't how you wanted to spend your night.

Luckily for you the king of hell was exactly where you had left him earlier today; locked up tight in the chains that secured him from trying to make a foolish escape. But he wasn’t innocent as he looked slumped back in the chair. Crowley was all too causally whistling a familiar tune from a movie you had seen several times in your lifetime enough to recognize the reference. It was the song. “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Dorothy sung it before she was swept away to Oz by the tornado. You cautiously looked around to make sure if the wicked witch wasn’t here, and when she wasn’t like how you suspected, you dropped your gun back down to your side. 

"Wow. If it isn't Dorothy and her pals, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man. Your new houseguest—so misunderstood." Crowley informed you of what you already were about to deduce on your own. He waited a moment for either one of you to get the reference he slipped in, but when he was left hanging, you responded with silence. “Neither one of you saw 'Wicked'?"

"Sorry. I haven't exactly had the chance to visit Broadway lately. I'll make sure to get right on that after we wrap all of this up." You said, rolling your eyes. "What did she say to you?"

"Something along the lines of..." You weren't sure if the demon was trying to be cheeky with you when he hissed, bearing his teeth and all. 

"All right, well, I'm gonna get some holy oil and a lighter, dick bag." Dean said to the demon, not even the least bit impressed by the childish behavior that meant nothing to you. 

"I know what she's looking for." Crowley said. He tried to use his knowledge for leverage to get something out of you. You narrowed your eyes on the demon as he raised his brow, wondering if you were going to play long to hear the answer.

"What does she want?" Sam questioned the demon. 

"I'd be happy to tell you, as soon as I get to stretch my legs." Crowley gave you a smug smile you wanted to smack off his face. The demon knew he had you backed into a corner, the only thing you could do was give into his petty demands. Or continue chasing your tails.

You let out a frustrated sigh. The boys weren't too pleased either as to what the demon was asking. But you gave in with a nod of the head. Dean approached Crowley with the key to unlock the chain around the demon's neck, all while holding the knife to stab him with if he tried anything stupid. Crowley behaved the entire time. He slid off the collar and let it drop to the ground, you and Sam never lowering your weapons as he did so. He let out a groan of relief from being freed for the first time since you forced him down here. 

You gave the demon an impatient look as he took his time enjoying the freedom that wasn’t going to last for too long. He moved around his stiff neck and finally pushed himself up to his feet to stretch his aching legs. Crowley even had the audacity to let out a chuckle and smile at his victorious win.

"All right." You spoke up, wanting to get the demon back on track to the reason why you were even letting him off his leash. "What does the witch want?"

"Give me a mo.” Crowley said. “I still need to air myself out."

You pointed your loaded gun at him and shot off a round straight into his chest, showing him you weren't in the mood to keep playing his little games. "I think you're out enough." 

“Rude.” The demon muttered, taken back by your hostile behavior.

Crowley inspected the bullet wound in his meat suit and shook his head, you ruined his outfit even farther as well. You were about to warn him where the next bullet would go, the demon compiled before you could get a single word out. He reached for the crumpled piece of paper at the edge of the table and unfolded it to show you a single word written down. You furrowed your brow slightly, not sure what to make of it.

“Key?” Sam read off the word. “What key?”

“I haven’t the foggiest. Had to send her off on a merry chase before she could melt me.” The demon said. He gave you a smile from the corny joke you once again didn’t find the least bit funny. “Told her you boys kept the keys in the kitchen. You do have a kitchen in this crap hole, don’t you?”

You had the first potential lead at finding out where the witch was before she could get her hands on this supposed key. You and the boys quickly made your way to the kitchen in some kind of hope that you might be able to catch her, but you were too late. All she left behind was the mess she left trying to find the damn key she was doing everything she could to find. 

The witch tore every inch of the room apart; pots and pans were scattered all over the floor, food you had left out to enjoy later laid spilled on the counters. It looked like a tornado blew in here. You let out a groan of frustration and dropped your arm holding your gun back down to your side. Not only did you have this mess to clean up after you solved this Wizard of Oz, the wicked bitch was still on the loose and most likely tearing apart another room.

"Damn it, I just cleaned in here." Dean grumbled in frustration.

"Really?" Sam sounded like he was in disbelief at hearing his brother was capable of cleaning up after himself. 

"Surprisingly, yes. He's become very domestic since we started living here." You said. You made your way into the kitchen when it was made clear your problem was long gone, but still lingering about and causing more chaos in her path. "Looks like we got a witch problem." 

You took a moment to examine the damage the witch left behind and how long it was going to take for you and the boys to clean up. You were still on high alert, nearly shooting at the person who came into the kitchen from one of the few doorways. You dropped your gun back down when you saw that it was just Charlie and Dorothy back from their own tasks you hoped had been more successful than your dead end. 

“Sorry. We raided your gun range. Made us some poppy bullets.” Charlie explained to all of you. She showed off the revolver and shoved a hand inside her pocket, pulling out the one thing you had against the wicked witch. You raised your brow in curiosity and reached for one to inspect it for yourself. “They won’t kill the witch, but they will stun the crap out of her.” 

Dean examined the bullets for himself Charlie had made on her own. He had to admit she did a good job on figuring out a potential weapon against the witch. She always managed to impress him from how she could handle herself in stressful times. “That’s my girl.”  

“There was only enough for five bullets, so…” Charlie told you the downside about her genius invention. You dealt with worse circumstances as you loaded the bullet into the chamber for the moment you might need to use it. “Make each shot count.” 

“Now we just have to find her before she finds whatever the hell’s she’s looking for.” Dorothy said. 

“She’s looking for a key.” Sam informed the two women. 

“How do you know?” Charlie asked. 

“Little birdie told us.” You said, leaving out the source where you found out on your own. You really didn’t have time, or in the mood, to explain the reason behind having the king of hell chained up in your dungeon. “Ring any bells, Dorothy?”

“Unfortunately. It’s the key to Oz. There are magical ways into Oz—tornado, eye of a hurricane, whirlpool—but this key will turn any locked door into a portal to Oz.” Dorothy explained what made this one in particular so special. And why the witch wanted to get her hands on it so badly.  “Insert key, twist, and presto, you’re in Oz.”

“How did the Men of Letters get the key?” Sam asked. 

“I have no idea, but if she finds it, she’ll go back and finish what she started. She’ll destroy all that is good in Oz. She’s got armies of witches, flying monkeys.” Dorothy painted all of you a grim picture of what the future might look if you weren’t faster than she was. “Many will die.” 

"What's this key look like?" Dean asked her. Dorothy pulled out a small leather bound journal from the inside pocket of her jacket and flipped to a sketch of the key. You furrowed your brow slightly when it looked familiar to you. "I've seen that key. Found it when Y/N and I were doing inventory." 

“Where is it now?” Dorothy asked. 

“My room. We got to get that key. Alright, Charlie and I will go look in my room.” Dean formulated a plan before all of you split up to go your separate ways. “Why don’t you guys buy us some time?”

You nodded your head in agreement. You watched as Dorothy and Sam made their way to the more open area of the bunker to get a better chance at finding the witch. You lingered behind for a moment as you called out for the redhead’s attention before she could get too far. Much as you trusted her ability to take care of herself, there was still a part of you that wanted her out of danger. You were dealing with a powerful witch and no real means to stopping her. 

“Safest place in this joint is the dungeon.” You informed her.

“You have a dungeon in this place? Of course you do.” She smiled at the new room she learned about, wondering exactly might be hiding in there when given the chance to explore it one of these days like the rest of this place. 

“So maybe you should…” You hinted around what you were trying to say without coming right out with it. You wanted more than anything to make sure she was safe. But you should have known she wasn’t going to back down from the very thing she admitted to you about stumbling across again. This hunt was her dream come true. 

“I am not hiding, especially in a dungeon. Wicked witch, a key, a quest? Did you not listen to anything I said before?” Charlie was walking on cloud nine from the adventure she stumbled upon. She broke out into a grin and playfully punched the man standing next to you in the shoulder. “Let’s do this, Dean.” 

You shook your head in annoyance as the woman made her way to Dean’s room to find the key, ignoring your last attempt at calling her name. You knew at this point all of your warnings fell upon dea ears. You let out a sigh of defeat and made your way to wherever Dorothy and Sam ended up, Dean quickly catching up with Charlie before she could get herself into too much trouble while snooping around his bedroom.

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[forcri]

The Andy Bird Diaries

The penniless Englishman who seduced Madonna"

PART ONE Exclusive by Alice Fowler.

The letter was and, heartfelt, and surprisingly vulnerable especially when one considers that the writer is perhaps the most famous woman on the planet.

'I will never get over you,' it said. 'You have touched me in an unfathomable and unexplainable way.   'You say that there can be no love without trust and I couldn't agree more. But you mistrusted me long before I behaved in an untrustworthy fashion.   'All of this just perpetuated more negative and reactive behaviour in both of us. We went to our corners and drew our swords. 'The irony now is that I'm alone completely. Alone with my thoughts and my memories. I have so many fond memories of you in my house and, m fact, they we the happiest memories of my life. It is so very hard to let go of them. 'I wish so many things. I wish that we were together and happy. I wish that we'd had a child wish that you were feeling fulfilled, artistically and creatively you have such a brilliant mind I wish I wish, I wish...' 'Most of all, I wish you happiness and peace in your heart and mind. Please know that you are my last thought before I go to sleep and my first thought when I wake up. 'My love for you is profound and immense. Confusing and mysterious. I long to put my arms around you.'

These were the words that Madonna wrote to the man who was the last great love of her life before her marriage to film maker Guy Ritchie a dreamy impoverished Englishman named Andy Bird. They came towards the end of their tumultuous 18 month affair. For Madonna, Bird followed a long list of high profile partner's including Sean Penn and Warren Beatty, pop singer Prince and John F Kennedy Jr. But as her letter suggests, this anonymous figure stirred deeper feelings in her than any of his celebrity predecessors. Indeed, had fate taken a different twist, perhaps Andy Bind rather than Guy Ritchie might have followed Seen Penn as Madonna's second husband. Certainly, but for a harrowing abortion that we will return to later, he would now be the father of Madonna's child. Few would recognise Andy Bird's name today. Yet his relationship with Madonna spanned a crucial period in her life, ending in bitter arguments around the time she met Ritchie. At the start, they were blissfully happy. The lyrics of Madonna's song Beautiful Stranger To love you is to be part of you, I've paid for you with my tears, And swallowed all my Pride - were inspired by Andy Bird.

Extraordinarily, Madonna, wealthy, ambitious and famously astute lost her heart to this charming drifter who slept on friends' sofas. It was an attraction of opposites the material girl and the man with nothing; the health conscious singer and the chain smoker; the glamorous star and the face in the crowd. But together as we are about to discover, their life ran a rollercoaster course from the heights of emotion to arguments about Bird's sweaty feet (she would make him disinfect them before he came to bed). The affair wrenched this unassuming figure from the provinces born in Birmingham, the son of an accountant and an educational social worker to the centre of a very different and dazzling world. Bird came to know the private Madonna: the woman who would sing snatches of opera as she cooked Pop Tarts for breakfast, whose hopeless driving would cause havoc on the roads, who gave him clothes that ware invariably the wrong size.   To learn the inside story of their relationship - as we will do during this exclusive Mail series, which continues on Monday - is to gain an entirely new insight into the world's most scrutinised woman. She emerges as a far more tender and attractive figure than previous accounts have suggested.

Over the coming days, we will discover the truth about that abortion which left them both drained and distraught; their extraordinary life together with Sting, Stella McCartney and some of showbusiness's greatest names and the very public clash in which Ritchie scuffled with Bird at a London bar. Until now, Bird has never talked publicly about his love for Madonna. He has shrunk instinctively from the public gaze. The reason he has chosen to speak out now, he says, is to put right the many inaccuracies which continue to be written about him. By telling the truth, he hopes, he can draw a line under the past and move on. It is not a task he finds easy. At times, as we talk, he squirms with reluctance. That Madonna should fall for this likeable, irresponsible man far younger than his years, is the greatest surprise of all.

Madonna, after all, is famed as a manipulator, renowned for her need to control - most notably in her affair with Carlos Leon the handsome fitness instructor seemingly picked out to father her child. Lourdes, then cast aside. Perhaps the clearest sign of the depth of Madonna's feelings for Bird is that she found it impossible to discard him in the same way, He was her 'beautiful stranger' and for many months, even after she had met Guy Ritchie, impossible to let go. They met in the summer of 1997 through a mutual friend. Alek Keshishian the moviemaker, who had directed Truth or Dare: In Bed With Madonna, the film of her 1990 world tour. Andy was 32 seven years her junior and living a bohemian life in London's Notting Hill. A former art, student, he was Involved on the outer edges of the film industry, working as a runner for production companies and creating film scenarios of his own. He earned money sporadically, sleeping on friends' sofas for weeks at a time, and wrote a script for an off-beat comedy that he showed to an American film producer he met In London. The American agreed to fly him to LA, using her surplus air miles to try to develop the project.

The week before he was due to leave, Andy went to see Keshishian in Paris to talk about his LA trip. Alek was well known in Hollywood, with no shortage of contacts. 'On a couple of occasions he let slip: Oh I know someone who'd likes you,' Bird recalls. 'He said it was someone I'd really get along with, but he never mentioned who it was. He's the kind of person who knows everyone and likes to show off the fact. 'While I was there, he was on the phone and suddenly said: 'Andrew, say Hello to Madonna, 'Why he did it I still don't know. 'Anyway, I took the phone and said "Hello to Madonna and there was a little giggly voice at the other end. Though he knew Alek was a friend of Madonna, Andy was still unsure whether he really was talking to the singer. It could just have been some strange joke. 'But we chatted for a bit and by the end of the call she seemed like a really nice person, whoever it was I was talking to. The conversation ended with her saying: 'Tell Alek to give you my numbers in L.A'

It seems extraordinary for a star like Madonna to give me her telephone number so freely. Perhaps, says Andy, Alek had already mentioned him to her. He took the number, and. on the Eurostar back to London, decided to find out if they were real, 'I rang up and said: Hi, how are you doing?' and she said 'I'm practising yoga,' or whatever. 'I remember thinking she sounded sweet. She's got a very nice phone voice; quite low and soft. There was a connection between us.' By now there was no doubt he was talking to Madonna herself. 'I suppose other people would have found it really weird to be taking to her, but somehow it didn't feel that strange,' says Bird. I just thought I was speaking to a girl I was getting on really well with. I was speaking to the person, not the icon. 'To start with, we just chatted about Alek. But she also was making an album with the producer William, Orbit, whose work I really admired, and I was very Interested in that.'

Even though Andy hadn't been looking for a relationship, one soon started to develop. 'We spoke several more times. It ended with us talking for a couple of hours a day on the phone before I even got to LA. She was flirty - she's a very flirty person, and I just flirted back, I asked her: 'Do you want me to bring you a present when I come over?' She said; 'Yes some of those waffle biscuits they sell on the Portobello Road.' 'Our conversations, were a first-thing-in-the-morning, last-thing-at-night kind of deal. There was certainly a degree of intimacy at that point. By the end we were actually saying, 'I miss you'" when we hadn't spoken for a few hours. There was a genuine keenness to meet.'

Back in London for the few days before he left for LA, he made no secret of his strange new friendship. My phone would ring in a bar, and it would be Madonna saying 'How are you?" My friends were a bit surprised and it was a big joke for five minutes, but after that they got used to it,' Perhaps his friends were too anxious to seem 'cool' to exhibit mere excitement. Whatever the explanation, Andy admits this lack of interest was one of the reasons why, later, he was unprepared for the frenzy of attention when their relationship became more widely known.

Full of anticipation, he flew to LA and went to stay with his producer friend. The next day, he called Madonna. 'It was three clays before we eventually met up. I was a bit nervous.   I met her at this photographer's studio where they were shooting a cover for Rolling Stone magazine, 1 had to wait outside because I couldn't smoke in the studio. 'I had a Safeway bag with her biscuits from Portobello Road in it. I was wearing a fake-fur coat a mate had given me. At that stage I was into wearing ripped?up clothes and holding them together with tape.   'After 20 minutes I was called in. She war hiding behind a curtain. I think her first words were: "Hello, you!" My first impression was: 'Isn't she tiny?' She had very long, blonde Goldilocks-style hair at the time, and she was dressed all in black. 'We chatted for a bit, and then we got into her car and she drove us to a dinner party she'd been invited to.' Madonna, it appeared, was nervous, too. 'She reversed into a wall as she was turning round, She was screaming: "'Andy, I hit something I think I probably swore - but it was only surface damage' he adds wryly. The dinner was informal. 'Everyone was in the kitchen, sitting on benches. Even so I felt a bit like a fish out of water, because I didn't know a soul, including her. People always ask questions when they don't know you, and I hate being asked questions. 'Somebody asked: 'Where do you live in London?' Madonna piped up 'He's a sofa surfer' because she knew I slept on friends' sofas. We were teasing one another from the outset.' Madonna seemed to be testing his reactions, checking out if he could really handle the prospect of a relationship with her. 'We were driving back after the dinner and she said: 'Shall I drop you at a hotel, because that's what I usually do with my dates, or do you want to come back to mine and call a cab from there?' 'It was all very flippant so I just said: 'I'm bloody going to yours.'She made some coffee and called a cab. I think we kissed.'

By then we were feeling at case with one another. We'd spoken so much already that a lot of barriers had gone down.' Andy also had his first glimpse of her LA home, an old Spanish-style house, filled with antique furniture and paintings. It was, he says, stylish but understated - a place where a guest could feel at home. 'It felt very natural, not at all forced. And she wasn't at all Madonna-ish, in a predatory way. She was warm and affectionate and womanly. She's really very normal: a lovely, traditional, sweet person. 'There was no problem being alone with her. I was more worried about getting back and waking up my producer friend to borrow some U.S. dollars to pay the taxi.'

Next evening, the two went out to dinner alone, at a restaurant near Madonna's studio. This time it was Andy's turn to tease her. I remember saying to her: "Kindness costs nothing," when she got fed up with waiting for a table and snapped ever so slightly at the waiter. 'Funnily enough, she seemed to think I spouting 'from some fount of knowledge. For me it was just a proverb, but perhaps in California it sounded like a deep spiritual insight. 'And after all, it was only our second date. We were hanging on each other's every word.' That evening. Andy mentions in passing, was also one of the few times he paid for dinner. In the excitement of a new relationship, such disparities - her vast wealth, his total lack of it - seemed not to matter. Perhaps, I suggest, it even added to the romance. In hindsight at least. Andy thinks otherwise. 'She's very much a realist: she probably saw it as problematic but chose to ignore it,' he says frankly.

Already the relationship had developed a sexual spark. 'It was brilliant: warm and exciting but quite gentle,' Andy remembers. 'We were holding hands, she was taking my arm, pretty much from the outset. 'It all seemed very natural. I'm a romantic anyway, and she's got a very big heart.' When he arrived in America, Andy had scant knowledge of Madonna's life. 'I knew she had a daughter, but what her name was I didn't know. 'I was aware she'd had relationships in the past, but none of them was an issue. I'd kind of separated Madonna as a pop star from the person I was with. 'You get so wrapped up with the person that their past really doesn't matter. We were in the throes of becoming infatuated, falling in love. 'The magic that goes on inside you when just sitting in a traffic jam can be brilliant, because you get to spend time with that person. That's probably why I was oblivious to the whole fame issue.'

Perhaps, for Madonna, that ability to see her as a normal person was the clue to Andy's appeal. In him - in contrast to so many hangers-on, she may have felt she'd met a man who valued her purely for herself. Whatever the reason, within the space of a week, Andy Bird and Madonna became lovers. Was he nervous, I ask, and Andy looks mortified. 'It wasn't like that. I was having a relationship with a woman called Madonna. I was no more nervous with her than I've been with anyone, before or since. She was an individual I wanted to share a closeness with.' He pauses, looking wistful. 'It was quite a soulful thing.'

So who really is this Englishman who captured Madonna's heart. When I first speak to Andy Bird, by telephone, his voice is deep and laconic: the kind that might, indeed, suggest romance.   When we meet, he is more shy and diffident than I expect. He is tall, with long dark hair swept back from his face, and striking green eyes. But at 36 he displays an unhealthy pallor, honed on a diet of Diet Coke and Marlboro cigarettes. Later, when he shows me a photo of himself with Madonna and Lourdes, I am surprised by how much brighter and healthier he appears, the intervening years you sense, have left their mark on Andy Bird.

His parents, he says, were middle-class mavericks who left the city to start a new life in the Warwickshire countryside when he was two. They kept pigs and lived their version of The Good Life. At school - first a local primary, then a nearby prep school, followed by a comprehensive Andy was an unacademic student, spending most of his time 'messing wound with friends in bands'.   After school, he went to London to study design at Kingston Polytechnic. When he left, he drifted. Good-looking and easy-going, he began modelling, his trip to America was partly financed by a fleeting appearance in a Kentucky Fried Chicken commercial - and made karaoke videos. Affable and relaxed, he made friends easily 'I was meeting lots of different people, going to trendy bars, being put on the right guest lists,' he recalls. By the time he had met Madonna, he had, he says seriously, 500 friends. His social life revolved around fashionable restaurants such as 192 in Notting Hill, his gym on Portobello Green and the Met Bar, where he was friends with the manager. Many of his friends were connected to the media. It should have been obvious that, when he began a relationship with Madonna, there was no chance of it staying secret. Five hundred 'friends' were ready to sell information to the newspapers. To Andy's surprise if no one else's - his old, bohemian existence would blow up in his face.

Back in the autumn of 1997 though, Notting Hill felt far away. Andy was in LA caught up in a burgeoning love affair. Madonna was working in the studio, finishing her best-selling album, Ray Of Light. Andy spent almost every night with her, staying at her house in Los Felix. Quickly Andy's life fell into a routine. In the morning, he and Madonna would wake up early and takes it in turns to make coffee. Then, while she practised yoga for a couple of hours, he would play with Lourdes - Lola, as her mother called her, or 'set up meetings on his still unrealised film project.   In the evenings they would meet for dinner, sometimes at the tiny macrobiotic restaurant 'really good and cheap' and maybe watch a film. He also spent time with the rest of the household: Daisy the maid, Lola's nanny Clara, and Manual the gardener. When I meet Andy at a hotel in England, he swiftly befriends every waiter; in LA, though he was dating a superstar, his behaviour was no different. He rented a Dodge pick-up and often would meet Madonna and follow her in his car. It was a rapid introduction to one of his new girlfriends surprising quirks - her terrible same of direction. 'I'd only been there a short time, but I'd still work out we were going completely the wrong way,' he remembers. 'Following her was a nightmare. You'd be at traffic lights, and out of nowhere she'd edge her way across the lanes and in the lane for turning left, and there was no way you could follow her. It's ironic really somebody with so much direction in their life not to have a clue where they were going.'

While he struggled with her driving, Madonna would try to get him to wear new clothes. 'She's given quite a lot of stuff by designers and fashion companies, and so a black velvet suit showed up that, thankfully I didn't fit into. Then there was a velvet double-breasted coat all Dolce & Gabbana that was too big. 'It was a bit like getting presents from your granny at Christmas things you'd wear for a couple of days just to please them, and then forget about.'

For the most part, though, the couple enjoyed their new found closeness. 'For both of us there was a real sense of familiarity. You know, when you feel you've met somebody before.' says Andy. 'My feelings were strong, and so were hers. There was a powerful physical and emotional attraction between us. 'There was also a sense of vulnerability the way there is when you meet someone new. She would ask my opinion on a lot of things. 'At that time, Lola was less than year old. Madonna was unsure about motherhood what was normal and what wasn't. I helped out as much as I could.' In the beginning, Andy had intended to go to LA for just three weeks. In fact, swept up in the passion of a new relationship, three months passed before he begun to think about coming home. That November, Madonna was visiting Britain to prepare for the release of Ray Of Light. Andy was short of money and starting to feel homesick. They decided to come to London together, as a couple. Andy came over a few days before her 'It was brilliant to be back. I knew I'd missed my friends, but I'd been in such a cocoon I hadn't realised how much,' he says.

Three days later, Madonna's private jet landed at Luton airport. Andy picked her up in a Range Rover with blacked out windows. 'It was great to see her again. She was staying at a house in Tregunter Road, close to The Boltons, one of the most exclusive areas of South Kensington. It was a kind of unspoken assumption that we'd be there together'   For a day or two, no one knew about it. Then Andy took her to a friend's birthday party. Next day, he says ruefully, everything went crazy: their relationship was front-page news.   'It was just awful.' Andy remembers, shrinking into his chair, 'My phone rang incessantly; stories were being written about me. I was being followed. 'One of the red-top tabloids printed a number for anyone who knew mystery man Andy Bird to call. There was even a phone in on Radio 1 for people to say what they thought about Madonna's latest choice of boyfriend.'

For Andy, the media onslaught was a total shock. I knew they'd all be interested in her, but I didn't really think they'd care about who she was dating. 'I know it sound, ridiculous now, and I was obviously being downright stupid but 1 just perceived me as being me and I knew her as somebody else my girlfriend.' Surely Madonna herself must have known what would happen? 'You would have thought so, but I don't think she wanted to acknowledge the fact it might have a detrimental effect on us, or on me. 'Also, after 15 or 20 years in the spotlight it becomes normal, I imagine. It only became an issue after my reaction to it. It made me really withdrawn. 1 felt paranoid. I hadn't realised I would care what anyone wrote about me, but it really did upset me. 'Most hurtfully, says Andy, he was labelled a 'wannabe'. 'The implication was that the only way I was going to get fame and success and some semblance of a career was by hanging about with Madonna. That hurt my pride a lot.' The differences between them, which in America had hardly mattered, were rammed in their faces in Britain. At the same time, Andy was still trying to treat Madonna like any other girlfriend. He took her to friends' flats in West London. 'Most people were fine, but some were horrified at the idea of this superstar coming into their homes. 'No! It's filthy!' they'd say. 'You mustn't come!' 'Others went wild with excitement and you'd think: 'For God's sake, calm down.' Madonna, he says, was charming add polite I think maybe she felt like a novelty, being wheeled about. I think she quite shy in a certain way. But she was my girlfriend and I wanted her to meet my friends.'

Andy was also keen to introduce Madonna to his parents, Horace and Kathleen. 'I wanted to show her another side of me, to show her where I grew up. I didn't envisage spending a lot of time with them; just introducing her and going for a country drive perhaps. 'I rang my parents and said please don't make any more effort than you normally would," and they were fine.'   On a Sunday afternoon, Andy drove Madonna and Lola to the large house his parents built 30 years ago near the village of Clifford Chambers in Warwickshire. With its wide, pitched roof and adjoining garage, it looks like the kind of house stockbrokers retire to. The three of them arrived late. 'It took us ages to get out of London because we were having to sort the baby out and deal with the paparazzi waiting outside our house. 'And, of course, Americans only drive at 50mph, so me doing 90mph down the motorway isn't go down very well at all. 'We didn't actually get there until 4pm, and when my parents opened the door they were dressed in their best clothes. They saw my face and said: 'This isn't for you we're going to a drinks party. We can only stay 20 minutes.' My mum said to Madonna something like: 'Oh, let me give you a kiss because I always kiss Andrews girlfriends.'Then she got the baby photos out: 'Here's Andrew naked in the sink at three months old.Few families you imagine, would have reacted so calmly to a pop icon sitting on their sofa. Andy's, he explains, is different: 'They hardly watch TV and don't read tabloid newspapers. I suppose you could say the whole cult of celebrity has passed them by 'They were at their ease they're very down to earth people They were more worried about being late for their drinks party than anything else.' There was, however, one unexpected hitch. A paparazzi photographer had followed them from London and was waiting outside the house. 'That made it very difficult,' says Andy, still indignant at the intrusion. 'We had to close the curtains so he couldn't see in.' Andy was angry most of all with himself, for bringing his parents into the public eye. All the same, he adds, he eventually took the photographer a cup of tea and some homemade cakes. 'I felt sorry for him' he explains helplessly.

Next day, he was shocked to find the visit was a major news story. I still had no idea that my parents' house would be on the front page of one of the tabloids. When I saw that, I realised the whole visit was a mistake. I didn't want to involve my parents in all that.' For both him and Madonna, the strain was starting to tell. 'I was starting to withdraw into myself. She could tell I wasn't happy. 'We tried to make light of it, but the situation had changed. It did get to me, and I didn't handle it very well, I was frightened to answer my phone. My stomach churns just talking about it, 'We still really cared about each other, but I was becoming much more aware of how difficult life would be with her. She was frustrated that this stuff upset me. At one point she said to me 'Oh Andrew you love me, but you hate my life.'That was completely true. But what do you do in that situation? I still loved being in her company. I thought the papers would get bored. But I wanted my freedom back.' Late one night, when their visit to London was close to an end, he went for a drive on his own. 'I needed to forget about the whole situation. 'I was questioning everything. I'd begun to feel that perhaps I really was this no-hoper everyone said I was. I didn't want to end the relationship, but I had to prove I wasn't just trying to ride on Madonna's coat tails.' Finally, after driving for many hours, Andy made his decision. He would not go back to America with Madonna, but stay in London and rebuild his life. He hoped their relationship could survive; if not, he would have to accept it.

When he got back to Tregunter Road, Madonna was waiting for him. 'She wanted to knew where I'd been for all this time. 'I just said: 'Listen I've been thinking and I've get something to tell you.'Before I could say another word, she said: 'Well, I've got something to tell you, too.'And that's when she told me she was having a baby.' The pregnancy was totally unexpected 'We were careful.' says Andy, his voice a whisper. 'I was numb, shocked, happy, panicked, sad, tired. I was looking into her eyes, trying desperately to see how she felt. 'When you're really fond of someone, there's a part of you that's happy in that situation; another part that thinks 'Oh no.'It was very early days in our relationship, and I was beginning to realise events were running me, not the other way round. 'I was full of self?doubt anyway, because of all the things being written about me in the newspapers. I wasn't sure I should even be allowed to father a child. I was in a tumultuous state, but trying my hardest to be calm.' His main concern was for Madonna. 'When someone tells you that kind of news, your overwhelming sense is to know how they are. A man feels that even more keenly, because it's something that goes on in the other person's body and you are completely cut off from it.' He pauses, looking helpless. 'I wanted to do the right thing,' he says. 'Whatever that was.'

Daily Mail - 21 January 2002

"The penniless Englishman who seduced Madonna"

PART TWO Exclusive by Alice Fowler

Madonna was pregnant and the timing could hardly have been worse. It wasn't that she didn't want another baby, it was no secret that she was keen to provide her only daughter, Lourdes, with a brother or sister. But November 1997 simply wasn't the right moment. Her relationship with the unborn baby's father, Andy Bird, was just three months old. And already their passionate affair, Madonna's last great romance before her marriage to Guy Ritchie, was under enormous strain.

Andy, a charming English drifter whom she'd met through a mutual friend, was finding the publicity surrounding their unlikely liaison impossible to live with. Virtually penniless, and a stranger to the public eye, he'd been sucked into a world that was utterly alien to him. As we saw on Saturday in the first part of this series, his very indifference to fame had enabled him to stir deeper feelings in Madonna than any of the celebrity lovers of her past. Later, she would describe her memories of their times together as 'the happiest of my life'. For once, it seems, she felt sure that her boyfriend valued her for herself, rather than her public image. But was he the right man to father her baby? Could their relationship survive the worldwide attention that her pregnancy would attract? The events of the next few days were to be pivotal in Andy's life and Madonna's.

'I wish that we were together and happy she wrote to him later, when the relationship finally began to unravel. 'I wish we'd had a child.' On the night that Madonna learned she was pregnant, Andy was driving through London on his own. He wanted time to think about his future and had made up his mind not to return with Madonna to America when she left to promote her new album. Ray Of Light. Instead, he intended to stay in Britain and hide from the glare of the media. If that meant the end of their relationship, it was a risk he was reluctantly prepared to accept.

But before he could reveal his decision Madonna stunned him with her own momentous news. 'I don't think she was sure how she felt,' he remembers. 'She was experiencing the same turmoil I was. Everything about the relationship was in flux'. They had little chance to talk on what was the last night of her stay in London 'We were packing, getting everything done, there were people calling up. We weren't alone, there were nannies and assistants, and her friends coming over to say goodbye. For Andy, already questioning every aspect of his life, there was no one he could turn to for support, I couldn't tell a soul, because I didn't know whom I could trust. I didn't even tell my parents.' Instead, next morning, he and Madonna flew to Miami.

For Andy all thoughts of staying behind in London had evaporated. They spent a few quiet days together at Madonna's three?storey Twenties house in Coconut Grove, next to Sylvester Stallone's estate. For a while, the pregnancy increased their closeness. But, for Madonna in particular, pressures were mounting. 'She was working very hard,' says Andy. 'She'd just finished Ray Of Light and was preparing for the videos. She had a Vanity Fair shoot coming up with Mario Testino the top photographer, and Dolce & Gabbana, had made all these clothes specifically for the shoot. 'There's no getting out of things like that. And they take forever.' They talked about what to do about their unborn child. 'I wanted to support her in her choice, whatever it was,' says Andy. According to the line pedalled by one of Madonna's most recent biographers that choice was made for her. In this version of events she had a miscarriage in her seventh week. The same biographer even repeats claims by Madonna's friends that Andy Bird knew nothing of her condition until after the event. The facts are rather different and sadder. For a few days, the singer wrestled with the decision. In the end, she had an abortion. 'I felt terrible. Absolutely terrible,' says Andy, with painful emphasis. Even now he is unable to talk about a loss so personal he refers to it only as 'the event'.

For them both, it sounds a lonely, desolate time. 'We didn't even have that much time to talk together' he says quietly. 'She had to go to New York for a tribute to her murdered friend Gianni Versace, but she wanted me to go back to her house in LA to get things ready for when she joined me in a few days. 'I felt estranged from everything, and I assume she did, too. It was terribly sad. We were deeply upset. 'Perhaps it would have helped to sit down together, without even talking, and to share a closeness. But long, shared silences don't work the same way on the telephone. They're just long silences and I do remember quite a few. I tried to be supportive, though whether I succeeded is another matter.'

On his own, he felt an overwhelming sense of loss. I wanted to be able to compensate in some way for what had happened. But at the time I was flat broke, I didn't even have a credit card. 'I couldn't arrange for a bunch of flowers to be delivered to her, let alone arrive with one myself. I felt guilty about that as well.' Why didn't he ask Madonna to fly him to New York so they could be together? 'I didn't want to impose on her,' he says awkwardly, 'I wanted to be able to do these things without asking her permission. Perhaps, after such a traumatic event, neither was behaving rationally, but was there not, for Andy at least an element of relief at avoiding the responsibility of becoming a father? 'After three or four years, yes,' he says honestly. 'At the time, not even remotely.' In the past, Madonna had undergone other abortions, including one in 1990 when she began pregnant during a short-lived relationship with the bisexual film extra Tony Ward. The foetus was unhealthy and doctors advised her to terminate the pregnancy.

Throughout her 30's, the singer had given public hints of her hopes of another child. By the time she became pregnant by Andy she was 39. It is not hard to imagine why, this time, Madonna was so devastated by the choice she had made. When she returned to LA from Miami, she and Andy tried in vain to recapture the happiness of their first three months. 'It was coming up to Christmas, and I was very pleased to see her and Lola (her nickname for Lourdes),' he remembers. 'But things were never the same after that. The innocence in the relationship had already started to disappear. We couldn't go back, no matter how hard we tried.' Andy, normally laidback and gentle was becoming increasingly volatile. 'I was going to ridiculous lengths to keep out of the headlines, trying never to appear in public with her. 'But she had to do all this work: the organisation of the album and the promotional tour. My moods were very up and down, and it was difficult for us to get time together.'

In February, he decided to move out of Madonna's and rent an apartment of his own, in a part of LA known as Venice Beach. 'She was about to embark on a tour around America and Europe, and I didn't fancy the prospect of staying in the house on my own,' he says. He also wanted more autonomy, to arrange his life as he wanted, rather than constantly fitting around hers. It sounds like the beginning of the end of the relationship, but that is to underestimate the strength of their bond. Through the months that followed, as Andy tried (without much success) to establish a career as a Hollywood screenwriter, he and Madonna continued to share a deep commitment.

For Andy's birthday on February 3 the first they had spent together. Madonna threw a surprise party. 'We went to my favourite restaurant just off Hollywood Boulevard, and when we walked in I saw this huge table, full of people I knew. 'She had called up all the people I knew in Los Angeles and asked them to be there. 'Just as I sat down, two friends of mine from London - Ben and Martina walked through the door. They were the manager and assistant manager at the Met Bar, one of my favourite hang-outs in London, and she'd met them when we were in Britain. She'd paid for their flights and put them up at the Mondrian hotel, one of the best in the city. 'It was a really lovely thing to do. She knew how homesick I was. 'Martina and I were pretty close and Madonna watched us hugging and kissing each other. On our way home from dinner she turned to me and said: "Why do you like me, Andrew, when Martina is so stunningly beautiful?' It's quite sweet to think that somebody like Madonna could feel a little bit insecure and admit it.

But as Andy says it just goes to show that she's a thoroughly normal person.' For Valentine's Day that same month, she bought him a silver Swiss Army knife from Tiffany with 'Birdy be my Valentine' inscribed on it. 'Which I subsequently lost,' adds Andy, looking sheepish. With money he had saved he bought her a Tiffany necklace, with a tiny diamond. 'I used to joke with my friends, 'What do you buy the woman who has everything?' but she was actually really easy to buy presents for. She was always really gracious when she received gifts.'

Andy, meanwhile, was living a life of extraordinary contrasts. On impulse he had bought a battered 1971 Chevrolet Impala coupe. Because it broke down so often, he got to know the owners of a garage in Santa Monica. Soon, he got a job helping out there, to supplement his income from 'bits and pieces' of film work. With Madonna, meanwhile, be was attending some of the glitziest premieres and events in Hollywood - even though, to avoid the cameras, he usually joined her only at the parties afterwards.

Parties like that are work to Madonna, 'he says. 'Deals are done there, and she is brilliant at networking. Occasionally, we would catch each other's eye and have a quick chat but most of the time I just let her get on with it.' When she presented the Best Song statuette to Celine Dion at the Academy Awards, Andy missed the event itself but went to the famous post-Oscars party given by Vanity Fair magazine. 'She'd gone on ahead but had given me the passes to get in. It was great turning up at this fantastic restaurant, behind a line of presidential limousines, in my ridiculous old car.' At the party guests were given cookies decorated with the cover of the magazine in icing. It was meant to be the ultimate going-home present, a sign they had been at the most coveted social event of the year. Andy typically, was unimpressed 'I got very hungry, an I ate mine,' he says, looking mischievous.

On nights on the town like this he would rub shoulders with stars such as Jack Nicholson and Arnold Schwarzenegger. 'I was always trying not to stare,' he says. 'I remember seeing Tony Curtis, whom I'd watched in Some Like It Hot and Spartacus. It was a shock to see a really old man with a well built platinum blonde on his arm.' He met Madonna's friend, Stella McCartney, the celebrity designer, a couple of times 'a lovely girl' and quite often saw her close friends Sting and Trudi Styler. His happiest times, however were spent at home with Madonna and her daughter Lourdes. 'In some ways, Madonna's a very ordinary woman who enjoys doing ordinary things,' he says.

'Like eating liquorice sticks, watching videos in bed or reading the newspapers over breakfast and not saying a word. 'A lot of people see Madonna as being quite an unhappy moody figure, but she spends far more time being happy than she does being sad. When she wants to, she can have a great sense of humour about herself. 'She used to send herself up by calling herself a creamy smooth pop icon goddess and then she would sing opera when she was heating up Pop Tarts for breakfast. 'A lot of the time we would spend playing with Lola or we'd go on family outings to Disneyland. That was probably the most fun we had, being together like a normal couple with a child. 'She got so much joy from her daughter. Just watching Lola trying to run in the park with her little legs flailing about, would set her off laughing. Nannies would take Lola over to the studio when Madonna was recording and she would take at least a couple of hours out to play with her.

I remember the first time she ever spent a night away from Lola. She had to go into the desert to shoot a video and she was so tearful at being apart from her daughter. 'I stayed at the house with Lola and the next days a car was suppose to take her out to the desert to meet her mother but it broke down. 'Madonna was just distraught she was in a state of panic until the car finally arrived and she could see Lola was safe.' Andy also met members of Madonna's family, including her brother Christopher and her father, Tony Ciccone, who owns a vineyard and winery in northern Michigan. 'He's a lovely man, very down to earth. I remember him talking about special varieties of grape that grow under heavy snowfall. 'One Christmas she bought him some piece of irrigation equipment because that was all he wanted. That's how star-struck he is.'

Madonna spoke little of her mother who died of breast cancer when she was five. 'Everybody knows she lost her mother when she was very young, and I can't even imagine how traumatic that must have been for her,' says Andy. 'I think there is probably an element of that loss in some of the lyrics she writes. You can sense it in her work. 'Her mother was deeply religious and quite passionate about the shrine at Lourdes, which is why Madonna gave that name to her daughter.'

With a flair for art and style, Madonna had many friends in the world of fashion, including the designers Donatella Versace and Stefano Gabbana. 'Because she was quite influential in launching Dolce and Gabbana by wearing their clothes in her videos, they look after her very well,' says Andy. 'At their studio in Milan they have a mannequin with her measurements and a bootmakers last in her shoe size. Vans would regularly turn up at the house with rails of their clothes for her to choose from.' Even so, not all her clothes were from designers. 'She could wear the tattiest pair of jeans and still look good in them. Often she'd walk round the house in just a Hennes vest and look fantastic. She once said to me if she didn't do what she did, she would love to have been in fashion journalism. She is very creative.' There is affection and admiration in his voice; Madonna's, he says often, is a lovely woman.

Yet, for Andy at least something had changed. For all the happy times they shared together, and his growing fondness for Lola, the differences between them, those that had first surfaced in London only to be pushed aside were becoming harder to ignore. Andy's self confidence was suffering, trying to develop film projects of his own, he felt he was only taken seriously as Madonna's boyfriend. 'I felt cheap in a way, that I'd got where I was through no merit of my own. 'When opportunities were offered. I didn't take them. I was suspicious of everyone.' Madonna, who had encouraged Andy's career was disappointed at his lack progress. 'I think she thought I had to have a career within that world in order for us to continue a successful relationship. 'Her work is so important to her, and she needed someone whose career was equally important to them. She's very driven, and she ended up wishing I was more driven, too.'

At the start of the relationship, Andy's lack of money had never seemed a problem. Now, his pride became an issue. Simple things, such as Madonna's effort to make her unashamedly scruffy lover wear new clothes, made him angry. 'I eventually bought myself some smarter outfits, but not until we'd been seeing one another for quite a while. I'd hate to think of myself m someone who can be bought. We were fighting more: such as 'Where are my socks?' - 'In the bin' - 'But they've got months left in them.' Our relationship was gradually breaking under the strain of all the things I didn't like about the situation. 'It was changing me: I certainly wasn't the person she had met. I knew I didn't belong in LA. I felt like, a child among a group of adults. And Madonna was changing, too. As time went on, she was less ready to look at the problems between us in a rose-coloured way.' Both recognised the pressures they were under 'I'm so sorry that you were threatened by my career and fame and past,' wrote Madonna sadly to Andy, later in their relationship. 'I wish I could erase all the bad memories between us and go back to LA before we left for New York and London. Before we both got scared.'

The passion that remained between them led to fierce, arguments. 'That in itself can almost make a stronger link between you, because you become locked in battle,' says Andy. 'Everything was heightened.' It was clear the situation could not go on. Finally, Andy decided to leave LA and return to London. Even then, their relationship continued, in angry phone calls and long, heartfelt letters. Neither could let go completely. It was not until late 1998 that the situation began to change.

By then, as we will see tomorrow, Madonna had met the man who would transform her life once more: a little known film-maker named Guy Ritchie.

Daily Mail - 22 January 2002

"The penniless Englishman who seduced Madonna"

PART THREE / FINAL Exclusive by Alice Fowler

Andy Bird remembers clearly the moment his girlfriend Madonna first set eyes on Guy Ritchie. There was, he notes carefully, a 'chemistry' between them. Ironically it is the very word he uses to describe the start of their own extraordinary love affair, just a year before. Bird, an unassuming and virtually penniless Englishman, who was scratching out a living as an aspiring film screenwriter, had been introduced to her through a mutual friend. A sexual spark was struck, and he suddenly found himself the boyfriend of the most famous woman on the planet. It was one of the most unexpected but tumultuous affairs of Madonna's amazing life.

As we have already seen, in this series, she was carrying Andy's child within three months. But although he stirred profound feelings in the singer touching her more deeply than previous celebrity lovers such as Warren Beatty and John Kennedy Jr, Andy was unable to cope with the constant blaze off publicity in which she lived. Uncertain of their future together Madonna aborted their child. And by the time she met Ritchie in the summer of 1998 she and Andy were living apart. Madonna was in the US with her daughter Lourdes (known as Lola), promoting her album Ray Of Light. Andy was in London, resuming his bohemian life in Notting Hill. His first job when he returned was to work on the door of his old haunt, the Met Bar in Mayfair, not surprisingly, the fact that Madonna's boyfriend was working as a glorified bouncer instantly made the papers.

'I was flat broke.' he explains shrugging apologetically 'The manager was one of my friends, and I needed the money.' His relationship with Madonna continued in long, fraught phone calls and letters in which they tried to make amends for the rows. 'It's Mother's Day, and I have just put Lola to sleep,' wrote Madonna in one typical letter. 'The past few hours I've been distracted with thoughts of you and our last conversation. 'I hate to fight with you especially around Lola. I hate it when you call me names. The whole time we argue, all I really want to say to you is that I wish you were here and I was looking to your eyes. 'It's been so long since we've seen each other - and nothing would make me happier. But we never seem to get to tenderness because you we still so angry with me. You save your tender words for Lola and it hurts me so.' Both of them feIt anxious and insecure.

When the newspapers discovered that Andy was back in London, they labelled him 'broken-hearted Andy Bird' and were quick to speculate that Madonna had moved on to other men. Andy says: 'I read one report that Robbie Williams had been having dinner with her. In fact, it was all down to some over-zealous public relations person, met they'd never even met. 'But when you're on the other side of the Atlantic, you think: 'What the hell are you doing?' It would frustrate her that I would suddenly start quizzing her about stuff in the papers.' Madonna had questions of her own. 'She knew I'd recovered if not all then certainly some of my anonymity. To a certain extent I could run around and do what I wanted to do. If I'd have wanted to have an affair, I could have done. 'There was hostility on her side.' How would I know if you were doing anything?'she would say. It wasn't really jealousy, but it was definitely uncertainty.' Did they stay faithful to one another? 'I can only speak for myself,' says Andy. 'But yes, I did. The trust in the relationship had pretty much disappeared by then, but not because we'd started having other relationships. It's just that when you're arguing all the time, you do lose your trust.'

Despite the tensions, neither was prepared to give up on each other - or as Andy puts it, 'concede defeat.' Almost every other weekend he would fly to the U.S. 'I'd spend two or three days In New York, then fly back to London for a couple of weeks. It sounds glamorous but it wasn't at all. It was actually quite laborious. 'We couldn't really communicate. By the time we'd be getting used to being with one another again, it would be time for me to leave. 'Madonna was still very helpful, she paid for the flights far more regularly than I did. But you have to be very solid to continue a long-distance relationship and our foundations were really non-existent.' At times, the affair seems to have descended into farce. 'There was always an issue about how smelly my feet were, especially when I was travelling backwards and forwards to New York. When I got to her apartment and took my shoes off, Lola would be going, 'Pooh! Stinky Andrew!' Madonna used to make me wash my feet before I got into bed, with hydrogen peroxide, which Americana use as antiseptic.

'Her apartment in New York had a balcony overlooking Central Park, with a big urn on it. Once. I ran out there in my stockinged feet to have a cigarette, and took my socks off and put them in the urn. 'I got a call from her three weeks later saying Lola had been pointing at this urn saying "Stinky Andrew" because she'd found my socks. That kind of thing was very funny. But I think I as beginning to stretch Madonna's sense of humour somewhat.' Yet - remarkably, perhaps - a deep well of affection remained as Madonna's letters show. 'We haven't spoken for a week and it makes me very sad, but there's nothing I can do, so I'm sending you this note and some music I'd like you to listen to,' she wrote after one argument. 'I think of you so often when I listen to music. I feel it's the one thing we have that has not been tainted is a love of good music. 'You have a very good ear. The fact is there is nothing you wouldn't be good at, given the right circumstances. I've said it before and I'll say it again, you have so much talent and creativity inside you. It just needs to be manifested. 'You have so much to offer the universe I look forward to seeing into your heart. You are still so deeply embedded in my heart.'

Sometimes she would send Andy touching presents. 'After one bout of arguing, she put together a lovely little parcel for me, with a scented candle, some magazines, a little picture Lola had drawn, a letter and a CD,' he remembers. 'Occasionally, she would send money. That would make me feel pretty rough, and I'd invariably give it away. But I suppose she wanted to help and show she cared.'

For weeks the relationship waxed and waned. 'Just when I thought I couldn't take any more, something would happen to give us breathing space for the next round. She'd write me letters and I'd write to her. 'We'd be breaking up all the time, maybe not talking for a few days. Then we'd call each other up, or send long faxes. There was never a point when it really ended.' This was the stormy, uncertain background against which Madonna first met Guy Ritchie another handsome Englishman, also involved in film-making, although with rather more success than Andy Bird. The singer had come to London for work, and had been invited to a barbecue at the Wiltshire home of Sting and his wife Trudi Styler. Trudi was a close friend of Madonna and was also involved in Ritchie's new film, Lock, Stock And Two Smoking Barrels.

For Andy and Madonna's, the day of the barbecue had started badly. She was keen for him to come with her, while he wanted to see some of his friends. 'I was heading home after seeing her at her hotel when she rang me on the mobile, asking if I was sure I didn't want to go,' he remembers. 'I wasn't keen because I was still wearing the clothes I'd had on the night before and was hardly dressed for barbecue, but I agreed to go with her. 'Her chauffeured Mercedes people-carrier picked me up on Pack Lane and I just jumped in next to the driver. Madonna - who was in the back with one of her assistants and Lola - interpreted this as a snub. 'It wasn't meant that way at all - but things went downhill from there. By the time we got to the party we were hardly speaking to each other.

'Trudi introduced us both to Guy and I could see a chemistry between him and Madonna. They looked good together - they kind of fitted. There was an instant interest and they started chatting straight away.' When they all sat down for dinner Madonna wanted Andy to sit next to her. Instead, he sat at the other end of the table with Lola. At least sitting next to Lola, I knew we wouldn't have an argument. Madonna ended up sitting next to Guy and they seemed to be getting on really well. Surprisingly, perhaps, Andy insists he felt no jealousy. 'There didn't seem to be anything to be jealous about. I'd seen that they'd hit it off at the start but now they were just two people at a party, chatting away like everyone else.

To this day, Andy insists that he knows nothing of how Madonna's relationship with Ritchie developed over the following months. But by March 1999, when he next met Guy, his own relationship with Madonna was over and Ritchie had very obviously taken his place. Their chance encounter at the Met Bar was to generate sensational headlines suggesting Ritchie had flattened his supposed rival in an ugly brawl. But that's not how Andy Bird remembers it. 'I was there with friend, and he was, too,' Andy says. 'We ended up having a chat. It was very loud and we went to have a talk about things in the lobby, which was quieter. 'I suppose I was saying 'no hard feelings', which was obviously a one-sided sentiment. Probably I said something derogatory about her, or about her life. Whatever it was, he suddenly pushed me over. 'It was out I nowhere - I was sitting on a chair and he pushed me off. But it wasn't the big brawl that some people have claimed.' Wisely, Andy did not respond and returned to the bar, while the doormen threw Ritchie out.

Why, though, did Guy react so violently? Perhaps he saw Andy as a threat, or at least a thorn in his side. Bird remains mystified by the scuffle, but refuses to speak harshly of the man who displaced him in Madonna's affections. 'Who knows what Madonna might have told him about me?' he says. 'But it wasn't like I was standing in his way. I wasn't in touch with Madonna by this stage and I don't think I even had her phone number. 'He clearly had - and has - very strong feelings for her. He'd had a drop to drink, and love can make you do silly things,' Possibly, Ritchie was simply aware of how intensely his girlfriend still cared for Andy.

In the months after Guy and Madonna met, she had continued to see Andy regularly. For her 40th birthday in August 1998 - not long after her first meeting with Guy it was Andy whom she flew but to be at her side. 'I went over to New York for a week and we had a couple of days together at her apartment,' Andy remembers. 'Then she chartered a small sea-place to take us from Manhattan to this gross Hugh Hefner-style mansion in the Hamptons that she had hired for her birthday. 'There were the two of us, her brother Christopher, her assistant, plus Lola, the nanny and a couple of friends. Then we were joined by about 30 people at the mansion and we had a lovely dinner party. 'We played silly party games and everyone seemed to have a great time. Her masseuse came along and gave everyone massages as her present to Madonna. 'After dinner, we went into this huge cinema that was in the mansion and watched the new film of The Avengers. But it was so awful that I went off into the video library and came back with In The Heat Of The Night, with Sidney Poitier, which everyone enjoyed.' At the time, Madonna was deeply influenced by Memoirs Of A Geisha. Arthur Golden's compelling novel about the eroticism and exploitation of a Japanese geisha. Back in London, Andy had bought an antique kimono for Madonna and a smaller one for Lola. 'I also got a huge chunk of silvercoloured metal and, with a friend of mine, carved her out a huge silver heart, which I took over for her. It must have weighed more than a house brick and she seemed to appreciate it. 'But we still had an argument, even on her birthday. I wasn't feeling well and kept disappearing to throw up, and she accused me of being ill on purpose to spoil her birthday.'

For months the arguments dragged on. 'One of us would slam the phone down and ring back just to slam it down again,' says Andy. 'She changed her numbers, I changed mine. It was almost like a competition, neither of us wanted to admit defeat. Neither of us was very good at saying sorry and we would never admit to being in the wrong.' For Madonna, Andy's whole approach to life was the easy-going, impulsive style that had helped bring them together in the first place - was wearing thin. 'I'm irresponsible in fundamental ways, which did become an issue' he concedes. It was about whether I could say to Madonna: 'I can look after you.' That was important, Madonna may have grown up looking after herself and everyone else around her, but I think she does want to be looked after. 'Not looked after financially, necessarily - that would be a daunting task. But to have someone who at least contributes to the household, who organises things, takes responsibility for things. 'Even if you can look after yourself particularly well, as she can, you want that.'

Certainly, Madonna had always been frustrated by Bird's laid back attitude to his career. In Guy Ritchie she found a man whose ambition matched her own.' But it was also a matter of emotional commitment. The truth is, with seven years between them, Andy and Madonna may simply have wanted different things. 'I think she was looking for a caring, stable relationship. I know she wanted another child, but I knew that I wasn't ready to become a parent.' Had fate run a little differently, it is conceivable that Madonna could have ended up marrying Andy Bird rather than Guy Ritchie. But Andy remains sceptical - even if they'd had a child, he says, it would not have made a difference. 'We would still have broken up. There were serious difficulties. Having a child wouldn't have changed our personalities, it ought have made us a little less headstrong but I don't think, ultimately, we would have stayed together. The relationship might just have lasted a little longer, that's all.'

Indeed, looking back, he is unsure how deep their feelings really were. 'In hindsight I'd have to look deep inside me to say we fell in love. 'It's very difficult to quantify those feelings when you're in the moment, whether it's infatuation, or desire, or love. But I don't really think we were in love.' It's a difficult claim to accept when you look back at Madonna's letters to Andy, where she talks of a love she describes as 'profound and immense' add tells him, 'I will never get over you.' The evidence, indeed, appears to entirely contradict his self-effacing verdict. But then, even though he has chosen to tell his story, Bird is a touchingly diffident man, determined not to exaggerate his role in Madonna's life.

In July 1999, over two evenings, they saw each other for the final time. Madonna had flown to London and was staying at the exclusive private members' club, Home House. Out of the blue she phoned Bird and invited him over, after seeing Guy Ritchie earlier that evening. 'I don't know why we saw each other then,' Andy says. 'Maybe it was just so that we could, in some kind of way, say our goodbyes to each other. The chemistry was no longer there. 'The anger still flared up because we are a couple of fighters, but our feelings had changed. The passion that had been there at the beginning of our relationship had gone by that stage. 'We had dinner together and chatted about what we had been doing, I can't remember what our last words were that night, I remember the emotions more than the words. There was resignation and a certain amount of sorrow, but no regrets that it hadn't worked out between us. 'She's certainly not one for regrets, She's very forward-looking and positive, as you can see from what she's achieved in her life.'

Even then, Madonna could not part from Andy completely. She called him the next day and arranged to meet him for dinner at a restaurant called Bali Sugar in Notting Hill. 'We actually got on much better that time. She had just got back from staying at Donatella Versace's place on Lake Como, and she'd bought a video camera with her so I could see where she had been staying. We had a pleasant conversation and then she went back to Home House, packed and got on a plane that night. Even then, we couldn't say we would never see each other again and we spoke subsequently on the phone. 'I was supposed to go over to Miami for her birthday the following month but it was at the height of the season and I couldn't afford the £800 for the flight. 'She was saying things such as 'If you really loved me you would find the money and I was saying, if you really loved me you would understand my situation.' So we didn't see each other again. I think we were both exhausted and had finally ground each other down.'

That Christmas, Madonna wrote to him one last time. 'It was just before she and Guy announced her pregnancy, She just said 'Hi, I hope things we OK with you. Lola still mentions you occasionally. Maybe we should meet it would be nice to have a chat about things.' Andy did not respond. 'It didn't really warrant it. It was just a few words on a Christmas card. She sent it to a restaurant I used to go to, and I only got it a month and a half later.' By then, he explains, the moment had passed: the world knew she was having a baby. 'I felt she was opening a new chapter in her life. By that stage, I definitely had as well.' How did he feel, after the loss of their own child, hearing Madonna was pregnant with another man? It didn't affect me,' he says evenly. 'By then, my head was somewhere else. Already it seemed another life. 'I did feel pleased for her. And from the little bits of information that filter through to me I understand they we very happy.'

It seems an odd coincidence that, after Andy, Madonna should go on to marry another Englishman. Andy, however says he saw little sign of a hankering for English men. 'She was married to Sean Penn and had a long relationship with Warren Beatty, and there's nothing remotely English about them. 'Since she and Guy got together, she's probably discovered quite a lot of nice things about England. But I don't think she was looking for an English husband.' While Madonna has found happiness with Ritchie - and given birth to a son Rocco - Andy has stepped back into the shadows. Today, he has another, happy relationship. He has grown up, it seems, in the past few years. Even now, his phone still rings with people wanting to talk to him about Madonna.

There have been some false suggestions that he is planning to write a book about his experiences, in fact, he hopes that by telling his story in this series, he can draw a line beneath the whole episode and get on with the rest of his life. He has, he says fervently, few regrets. I can look back and categorically say Madonna's a lovely, lovely person. But I definitely wasn't the right person for her, add she wasn't for me.' In the end, the contrasts that once seemed so alluring tore the relationship apart. Then love was at its best, an extraordinary fairy tale. Sadly, as with most real-life fairy tales, there could be no lasting happy ending.

[hes-writer]

I'm the anon who wrote about the reality-AU ask.

And I have a different view from what you wrote, because for me there where 2 major things:

1. Reader wasn't a strong woman

2. Harry was definitely an arrogant, selfish prick to reader.

I will start with 1.

So, what moral and values? I honestly don't understand that part because for me moral and values mean one thing and I don't see they fitting the situation.

Regardless, MC wasn't a strong woman for several reasons.

She allowed her pain get in the way of her child's life several times, she literally got with the first guy that showed her love when she wasn't ready nor emotionally stable, if we take in mind that she met him at halfway through her pregnancy and in 2 years ish she was already living with him and allowing her child to call him "dad". So she clinged to Connor as a substitute and staple to the family she had planned having with Harry, just like Harry clinged to Camille's offer as a way to have what he dreamed having with Y/N. None of them put their child's best interest first, otherwise she would have found a way to deal with her pain while allowing him to be part of Halo's life and he would have found a way to accept that he would never have what he wanted bc of his mistakes in the past.

And the clearest sign of that is her conversation with Harry in the last chapter. She did love Connor, but he was only there because Harry blocked her. If he hadn't, he'd have seen the text and be involved in his kids life. So, I know you said something about being emotionally available as a parent and that's my argument for that. Harry wasn't emotionally a dad bc that chance was taken from him out of spitefulness and he still tried to be there, he made a mistake but he never gave up. He was robbed of it countless times bc MC was never healed properly to let go of her personal feelings and focus on Halo, bc I can guarantee you that if given the chance, Halo would forget it and choose to have a relationship with Harry.

Which brings me to my previous point... He wasn't Halos dad, MC made him her dad because she didn't want to deal with Harry when she knew that he had a right to at least be informed about the baby, regardless of her relationship with him. In the story you make it known that he blocked her and that's how she couldn't tell him, but she kept in touch with his family + he contacted her at some point. So, she uses her own actions against him and he let's her out of guilty, showing a bit of manipulation from her side. Both of them were toxic and manipulative. Just bc you were hurt, doesn't give you a right to act as you please, speacially when a child is involved. That shouldn't even be put to argument and I'd have agreed with you more if you hadn't tried to classify MC as a victim at all costs, even when she was the wrong one.

If this was real life, a girl behaving like her would be concerning, so why in a fanfic she's considered strong? Because she standed up for herself and for her daughter? I mean, did she truly stand up for her child? Can we truly say that? Or did she allow her own barriers and insecurities surround them and keep Harry distant? Wouldn't a healed and strong woman be capable of dealing with her ex for their's daughter sake, speacially when she's in a happy and healthy relationship?

Parents are allowed mistakes. None of them know what they're doing and the greatest majority of the world is filled with people who weren't mature enough to be parents, yet somehow were allowed to.

She was unfair and subconsciously used her child to get back at Harry for all the pain he caused her.

He left her, so she didn't tell him about their baby, then when he found out she monopolised his entire relationship with his daughter and did some pretty illegal stuff, and when he committed his first mistake with the child she cut him off completely without taking in account what her daughter wanted.

Have you watched the show The Duchess on Netflix? I think its a great example of my point here, in case you don't understand it.

Also, forgot to say that she was toxic again when she kept threatening him over wanting to be with his kid. Like, we spend tons of times telling people to be responsible with their art, as it can be a door into introducing kids to things. We also spend a ton of time telling boys that they should care about their babies and be there for them. Then you come and write a fic where the guy gets threatened and manipulated when trying to be with his 🤷🏻‍♀️

MC definitely had her right to commit her own mistakes, as I said, parents will do it countless times. But I think that's a bit unfair that she gets as many as she wants bc she got hurt previous to baby being born, yet Harry barely gets one when trying to figure himself out after finding out about his kid. You mentioned that a judge would never give Harry any custody bc of what he did and that was a bit dumb, sorry. Law is based on justice, balance and protecting the victim with fairness and justice, therefore Harry would have been granted at least the benefit of the doubt as his mistakes were minor and the victim in this story is Halo, not MC✌🏽

This is a long one.

Morals and values are not fitting in the situation.

Morals are personal beliefs that a person upholds and values are something that are regarded as important. I think that everybody uses them in most of the things they do so they definitely fit the situation.

She literally got with the first guy that showed her love...

I wouldn’t say that MC clung unto Connor and got into a relationship with him right away. The first couple of instances—they were just friends and weren’t officially together until Reign.

None of them put their child’s best interest first // Reader wasn’t a strong woman

I agree that both parties didn’t act on the best interest of their child but that doesn’t necessarily mean that MC wasn’t a strong woman. Sure, she wasn’t ideal in the context of being a mother—but she mended herself enough to give Harry a chance when he found out, even setting up limits while she was at it.

Wouldn’t you think that that takes courage? Besides the preceding fact that it is courteous to tell someone that you’re having their baby (no argument there), especially to someone who has cheated and betrayed your trust, you are sweeping the pain away. MC was letting Harry back in even if she personally didn’t want to. Harry was a huge part of her life so I think reminiscing on their relationship would never cease; they have a kid together. All the good and bad of their time together will always be present in her mind.

Harry was robbed [of being a dad]

You think that Harry was robbed of being a Dad, I can’t convince you otherwise. You said it yourself though, ‘if Harry hadn’t blocked MC, he would’ve seen the text and he would’ve been a dad to Halo’.

But he did—and the following points of your argument are, in a sense, irrelevant because what you’re pointing out is what could’ve happened if Harry didn’t do what he did. These are the consequences of his actions. “He blearily remembered bitterly blocking her number just as she texted “I need to tell you something,” <- That scene was the turning point of MC’s decision and frankly, a showcase of Harry’s immaturity. MC said she had something to tell him and he retaliated by blocking her.

As well, you mention, ‘if given the chance, Halo would forget about it’—there’s a lot of assumptions in your argument because these aren’t part of the original story. These are what you think should’ve happened.

He blocked her [...] but she kept in touch with his family

MC kept in touch with his family on the pretext that they wouldn't inform harry that the baby was his. This was because of a misunderstanding due to a post on Camille's IG page. H seemed happy with his new relationship. MC didn't NOT tell him out of SPITE—it was because she didn't want to ruin his relationship with Camille.

Harry contacted her at some point // Just because you’re hurt doesn’t give you the right to act as you please

Yes, Harry did contact her—to call her a ‘whore’ and stated that she ‘probably slept around’ during their relationship. [ie. Harry: Why not? Scared that y’gonna have to admit that everything you put on was an act? How can y’move on so fast and give me shit about it?”] I’m guessing that’s probably not the best way for H to ask about MC’s pregnancy and I can imagine that the sheer rudeness and projection will deter most people.

His dialogues were an attack on her personality (that she was a liar and disloyal), on the validity of her emotions (that she was faking them), and on her identity as woman solely because he was crumbling under the truth that he was the one who messed up. I mentioned before that Harry’s insults were a projection as a result of his defence mechanism. Meaning that he was—to some extent—aware that MC hadn’t cheated but convinced himself otherwise to feel less guilty. Therefore, at the end of Halo, he judged the credibility of their child.

If this was real life...

And this is a fanfiction.

Once again, MC might not have been the ideal representation of a strong woman, but she stepped up when Halo was introduced.

Imagine going through a break-up with your SO of two years while you’re pregnant because he went behind your back FOR A YEAR, amidst hormonal changes, still going to work, and trying to find yourself when someone has taken so much of you—that’s traumatizing. Healing isn’t linear. Just because you’re wounded doesn’t mean that you’re not strong.

She was unfair and subconsciously used her child to get back at Harry

MC was honest but she wasn’t truthful. Her intentions were human nature yet keeping Halo away from Harry wasn’t very truthful of her—in legalities and such.

I don’t think MC monopolized H/H’s relationship. She gave Harry a chance to bond with Halo, and they did. As mentioned, MC had set limits and boundaries when discussing Harry’s presence in their daughters’ life. It was a legally binding, word-of-mouth, agreement that Harry assented to.

[he was] threatened and manipulated

In that sense, Harry’s hostility towards MC in Reign was threatening her decision to have him around [ie. You’re not something I would take the time to handle,” // You’re a goddamn mistake is what you are,’]

I understand your concern and I apologize for that. I’m not explicitly saying that this one piece of fiction is satirical in the sense that it’s the opposite of what society chants because that would be vile of me to do. Every circumstance is different though—it really is a choice of preference, validation and weighing out the subject matter.

You mentioned that a ‘judge would never give Harry custody’ and that was a bit dumb...

That line was never part of the story.

"Take it up legally if you'd like. Want to have a custody battle? Bring it on. Let's see whose side the judge is on after they find out that you cheated on me while I was pregnant with Halo."

Suggesting that the conclusion can be one of shared-custody wherein MC has more time with Halo (80/20 visitation schedule).

[alleiradayne]

There’s Something Strange A Reader/Sam Winchester Series

When Y/N Y/L/N escapes to the upper Midwest for a weekend of inspiration to begin her tenth paranormal thriller novel, she never imagined the source of that inspiration to be her own life. Between the old mansion, two peculiar men posing as antiquers, and the mysterious death of the heiress of Hill Manor one-hundred and fifty years ago, Y/N learns the truth about far more than the paranormal.

Part III - The Inspiration

Summary: Sleep can’t shake her writer’s block, and so Y/N goes wandering for inspiration. Warnings/Tags: Even more fluffy flirting, kissing, sort of dirty thoughts Square filled: Author AU Characters/Pairings: Reader/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Word Count: 2,021 A/N: For @spnfluffbingo2019, this entire series fills the Author AU square. Super giant huge thank you to @atc74 who beta’d this giant thing for me.

All was decidedly not well again.

Far from it, the moment Y/N had fallen asleep, everything had gone terribly wrong. Nightmare after nightmare kept any rest from her. Worse was waking up unable to recall any of those dreams. If only she has managed to hold on to one of them, her book would write itself.

Instead, she ate breakfast as she stared at the blank page in her notebook lying open on her desk. The longer she stared, the fewer coherent thoughts formed. And the longer she struggled against that impenetrable barrier, the more she returned to the single constant figure in her mind, with his long hair, broad shoulders, and killer smile.

Fuck.

The notebook snapped shut as she flicked the cover, then it thumped into the draw of the desk where she shoved it. A large bite consumed the last of her toast as she stood from her desk, strode to her door, and headed down the hallway.

If the mansion had managed to inspire her earlier, maybe it could do so again. The heavily furnished hallway to her right loomed strangely empty despite its copious décor. The end of her eastern wing of the house lay that way, so instead, she turned to her left and headed for the main staircase.

Something about the house had gripped her imagination upon arrival yesterday. That much had been evident the moment she had attempted to start her novel that afternoon. And while the people had interested her at dinner, only one of them continued to permeate the cloudy suffuse that comprised her rambling thoughts: Sam Winchester.

Instead of fighting her instincts, she submitted to her wandering mind and followed her feet. Through various hallways she traipsed, no clear path determined, and her thoughts trailed in tow. Off its leash, her subconscious found its way back to the events of the previous night. Dinner, while pleasant, had served up little besides food. Her educated guesses as to the pasts of the other guests had all been spot-on. Even Sam and Dean’s antiquer disguise had been a narrow miss. That had been their intent, after all.

But what had surprised her was Sam's warning on the heels of his apparent admiration. As she strolled through another gaudy corridor of the mansion, her fingers itched, suddenly eager to touch. Why the warning? With five other guests, how would any detective single out her fingerprints? And for what crime?

Y/N found herself on a sunny patio after several minutes of traipsing. Golden rays of warm sunlight angled across a wrought iron table painted white to match the pale stone upon which it stood. Myriad of planters and pots bearing lush autumnal flowers revealed the source of the previous night’s centerpiece at dinner. And in the far corner stood a tall sculpture of a robed woman bearing a pot from which water flowed.

Detectives. The worst kind, Sam had said. While he had initially seemed irritated by Dean's drunken admission, Sam had not evaded her when she had prodded further. Homicide then? Special Victims? Cold case?

A derisive snort echoed off the glass of the patio walls as Y/N turned on her heel and stomped from the room. How had he managed to distract her so? Sure, he was easy on the eyes. But a romance novelist she was not. Perish the thought, she had never entertained the idea of writing such a book. She wouldn't even know where to start.

Not that she knew where to start yet another paranormal thriller either.

As she traced her steps back through the mansion, a gnawing worry crawled up her spine and settled at the base of her head, fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. His warning, while subtle enough, set off all sorts of alarms. She could use that. It may not be a bad place to start. Foreboding warnings typically hooked readers. The curiosity to see how it all played out motivated the human mind like little else. The possibility of danger looming around every corner thrilled. But that road, that winding wandering path with its ominous tone and obfuscated truth demanded the reader’s attention.

If Sam's warning started the story, then what would end it? Don't touch anything. What if a protagonist did touch something? The final piece to their puzzle. It needed work. But at the very least, it was the start to and possibly the plot of a proper story.

A familiar baritone dragged her up from the depths of her thoughts, his curse permeating the fog. Y/N found herself outside of the library, two large dark oak doors framing the wide entrance. She leaned over the threshold with a careful look to either side, then entered when she found it empty but for copious books in a vast array of shelves.

She heard it again, another curse hissed under his breath. A part of her wondered what anger might look like on his too pretty face. Probably no less attractive. Maybe even more so. Something about that thought, about the library and finding him there, broke a fine sheen of sweat out across the back of her neck, and so when she rounded the last set of shelves baring the weight of old writing supplies to find Sam sitting at a table laden with books, she hesitated.

That single beat of uncertainty allowed Sam the time he needed to drag his eyes from his book and up her entire form, drinking her in from heeled feet to coiffed hair. That look, the wide-eyed gaze and gaping lips sucked the breath right from her lungs. Christ, how had anyone ever survived his stare? Or that squirm in his seat as he openly ogled her? How she had ever resisted the urge to shove his books aside, pin him to the table, and ride him until she passed out, she’d never know.

A thick swallow preceded his greeting. “Y/N,” he breathed. “Sleep well?”

Ruined. All her plans for the weekend had been ruined by that one little question. It was then that she gave up on writing about her beloved protagonist inheriting a haunted house. Darling Natalie would instead be meeting Sam Winchester in said house and together they would solve a mystery while they fell in love.

Romance novel stigma be damned.

“I ah… yeah, I did,” she stammered. “Slept alright. Do you… mind?” she asked as she pointed at the table.

Sam glanced at his books, then shut several as he gathered them up and placed them on the chair to his left. “Please,” he added as he motioned to the chair in front of him.

Measured steps bared her to the chair where she sat, her eyes never leaving his. “How’s your… research? Investigation? What are you doing?”

Either Sam played everything close to the chest, or his detective’s nature forced him to behave that way. He slid the open book in his hands to the side, just far enough where Y/N couldn’t make out the text. “Investigation. And it’s… slow. But we’re making progress.”

“Where’s Dean?”

He smirked at that. “I could give you his number if you’re interested.”

“Only if I get yours, too,” she retorted. “You know. In case I find anything.”

His chair slid closer with a rough pull at the seat as Sam leaned near her, one forearm propped on his thigh. “I thought you said you were writing a novel?”

As much as she wanted to bite back, Y/N held her tongue. “I am. But that doesn’t mean I’m not looking for things to write about.”

“Find anything interesting so far?” he asked with a coy smile.

“Maybe,” she said as she crossed her legs and dropped her heel to dangle from her toe. “Plenty of inspiration. All those fascinating people at dinner gave me plenty to work with.”

His eyes snapped to her bobbing foot, and before she could move, he pointed and asked, “Would you… do you wear heels all the time?”

Strangely attractive men in stranger mansions investigating murders and offering foot massages. That had to make it into the book somehow. She slipped her shoe from her toe and it thumped to the floor. Deft fingers enveloped her foot as Sam set it on his thigh and rolled his thumbs through the knots in her sole.

“I usually wear heels, yes,” she replied.

“That’s pretty rough on your feet,” he started, “compromises bone structure. Invites fractures.”

She laughed at that. “And women are the weaker sex.”

“Men that don’t wear heels are the weaker sex,” Sam stated. “I could never wear shoes like that. Not in my line of work.”

There. A crack in the foundation. “Have you chased many monsters, Sam?”

His thumbs faltered as his mouth gaped. “Who said I chase monsters?”

That had not been the reaction she expected. “You’re a detective, right? Cold cases? The guys they call when nobody else can figure it out?” She flexed her foot when he continued to stare. “Sam?”

He shook his head as though confused. “Uh yeah, sorry. But no, I haven't chased many…” he paused with an averted glance, “… many criminals. You sound like you know a bit about investigations. What sort of books do you write?”

She ignored his casual shift in topics. “Paranormal thrillers.”

His hands froze as all the color drained from his face. “What?”

“You know. Like haunted houses,” she started as she casually gestured. “Vengeful spirits, cursed objects, demons, angels, religion, the occult. All of it,” she rattled. “I’ve got nine books on the market and I started the tenth this morning. For the most part. I think I’ve got plenty of inspiration with this house and the guests to come up with some sort of plot.”

She had rattled on so intently that Y/N missed his gaping mouth and green complexion. He remained that way, still as stone and staring until she slipped her foot from his hands. “I… think I should leave you to your research.”

With her foot returned to her shoe, Y/N stood and turned for the door, but only took half a step before the warmth of Sam’s massive hand slipped into her palm. He hadn’t grabbed her, hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t even stood. When she turned over her shoulder, she found him seated and gazing up at her as if seeing her for the first time all over again.

“Help me?”

Her eyes snapped back to the table where she found his book shut. In the dark leather of the cover, gold inlay emblazoned the titled across the top in a curling script.

The Haunting of Hill Manor: A History.

“You’re not a detective.”

Sam shook his head but said nothing as her eyes flicked from the book to him and back.

“And this is Hill Manor.”

Sam nodded.

“And it’s haunted.”

He scowled as he glanced at the book. “The simplest answer is yes.”

Did he expect her to take him seriously? She smiled a crooked smirk as she asked, “So, does that make you Egon in this operation?”

His laughter burst from his lips in a rush of air as Sam clutched his stomach and stood. “Only if that makes Dean Dr. Venkmen.”

Y/N neared him, leaving little space between them. “He seems like the type,” she started. “But you don’t seem as… oblivious as Egon.”

“If you ask me to fix your computer, I'm gonna spend a little extra time under your desk,” he teased.

“I expected no less,” she said.

“But only if you agree to help me,” he added.

He wasn't joking. His tone, his intense hazel stare, his towering frame did all the dirty work his courtesies avoided. “It's all real, then? Ghosts, curses, dark magic?” she asked.

“That's just the tip of the iceberg,” Sam started. “I wouldn't ask for a civilian’s help if we weren't desperate, but if anyone finds this thing we're looking for before we do…”

Y/N considered herself an expert on expressions and emotions. Describing both required a deft hand and intimate knowledge of the human psyche. Though she had described the sorrow in another’s eyes time and time again, she had never seen such pain first-hand. Not quite like how Sam harbored guilt and despair. That look alone told her more than anything he might ever say to her; he had seen things he would never forget, had experienced traumas that had broken him over and over. Those eyes and their desperation said more than she ever could in any of her books.

“I'll help you, Sam,” she started. “If it means we have a chance to save these people, and I don't ever have to see that look on your face ever again, I'll help you for the rest of my life.”

A familiar, yet long-forgotten warmth blossomed deep in her center and spread like wildfire through her entire body as Sam hauled her into him and enveloped her in his massive arms. Her lips found his in her haste to soothe her own sorrow, and at first, he hesitated. But then the smooth heat of his hand cupped her jaw, fingers delving into her hair and Y/N melted into him as he returned her kiss.

“Hey!”

As though struck, Sam tore from her and leaped back a step. Y/N whipped about and found the source of their interruption at the corner of a bookshelf where Dean loomed out of the shadows. Heavy boots thumped across the hardwood floor as he strode up to them both, and then he growled, “Find anything yet?”

Sam regarded Y/N before stuttering his response. “I might have a lead… from this.” He grabbed the history text from the table and handed it to Dean.

When he took it from Sam, Dean glared at Y/N, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. When she returned his glare, she planted her feet and folded her arms across her chest. No, there would be no scaring her off. Not with that pitiful excuse for intimidation.

“Not a civilian?” he asked her.

She looked at her watch. “As of five minutes ago, no.”

“Great,” Dean spat as he flipped his hand at Sam. “What were you—”

“She writes paranormal thrillers,” he interrupted. “She might be able to help. We need all the help we can get.”

Dean looked from Sam to her, then back to Sam. “Does she—”

“Iron, salt, and cleansing rituals for your everyday spirits that are stuck in between,” she interjected. “Might need a little Latin to force out a vengeful spirit. That’s what you’re dealing with here, right? A haunted mansion?”

Dean opened the book to Sam’s marker and scanned the page. “Not really.”

Y/N shook her head as she asked, “What do you mean? The house is either haunted or it’s not.”

He shoved the book into her hands and pointed at an artist's portrait of a woman at a writing table holding a pen to a piece of parchment.

“It’s not haunted yet,” Dean started, “but if we don’t figure out what item that woman attached herself to before she shows up, someone else will find it, and everyone in this fucking house is gonna die.”

Y/N took the book from him and stared as Dean turned to walk away. Sam remained by her side as he shuffled a step closer and placed a gentle hand on the small of her back.

The portrait was that of a woman in her thirties sitting at an ornately carved writing desk. She held a distinctly detailed fountain pen in her right hand, and a line of her neat script curled along the top of the parchment.

But that mattered least of all. The writing desk at which the woman sat stood beside a window in an all too familiar room.

“Oh fuck.”

Dean’s boots thudded to a halt. As he turned around, Sam leaned over her shoulder for a closer look at the page as he asked, “What is it?”

She pointed at the window, its gleaming rays of sunshine angled across the desk, and spoke.

“That’s my room.”

If you want to be tagged for this series specifically, send me an ask or a DM! If you want in on any of my tags (Sam/Jared, Dean/Jensen), you can ask for that, too!

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[talpup]

Light In the Darkness: 16

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers.

***If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887595/chapters/54275269

16.1

The morning of September seventh came and went and still Yami slept. Unable to stand seeing Teris wait any longer Tobin entered Yami’s room with a bucket of cold spring water.  Standing beside Yami’s bed, he upended the bucket on the newly seventeen year old boy.

In a motion almost too quick for Tobin to see Yami reached for his katana, pulling the blade free of it’s sheath as he sat up.

Dropping the bucket Tobin held his hands up in surrender giving a big, guilty smile.  “Happy birthday?”

Yami lowered his arm and blade the cloak of dark magic disappeared as fell back into bed.  “Not so happy anymore.”

Tobin noted the telltale tent in the sheet Yami laid under.  “Sorry to interrupt what looks to have been a stimulating dream.  But your girl has been waiting impatiently for you to wake.”

Yami glanced at the bulge that, despite the shock and cold water, refused to die.  He closed his eyes.  It had been such a good dream.

“Give me a moment.”  He said.

Tobin chuckled as he picked up the bucket and turned away.  “Take all the time you need.  A good tap cleaning always helps me manage the roar of the one-eyed beast.”

Yami threw the katana.  It embedded into the door Tobin was opening with a twang.  “Shut up and give out!”

16.2

The lunch Teris had made especially for Yami had been a surprise.

Yami didn’t know how she had managed it, but she had attempted to make dishes from his homeland.

The lack of proper ingredients and seasonings had made the endeavor less than successful.  But it was the attempt that had moved him and made him feel special.

As if that wasn’t enough, Teris had chartered a boat for the day to take the Black Bulls deep sea fishing.

The sound, sense, and smell relaxing him, Yami sat back as the seamen cast off from dock and went about their work.  Eyes closed, he basked in the rolling sensation of the boat on the waves.  Sensing a presence who’s Ki he couldn’t read, Yami was able to deduce that Teris was standing near.

“Thank you for this.”  Yami sighed contentedly, eyes still closed.  “I haven’t been on a boat since I washed ashore.”

Teris felt a wave of relief.  “I wasn’t certain you’d like it.  Given what happened the last time you were on the water.”

“The sea is like wild beast.” Yami told.  “Respect and always be watchful of her and chances are she’ll tolerate your presence.  But even then, no matter your care, there will be times where she’ll try to tear you apart and devour you.  She can’t be faulted for that.  It’s in her nature.”

“You make the ocean sound like a living thing.”

“Isn’t it?”

Teris looked out at the point where the sea and sky kissed, and wondered.

Given the world they lived in where Chaos was spoken of as a creature unto itself, she supposed a living sea wasn’t all that far fetched.

She turned to him squinting at the brightness of the reflected sun light. “I also thought you might have wanted to join the boatmen in their work.”

Yami opened his eyes and soaked in her image.  She had never looked more beautiful than she did in that moment.  Surrounded by the sea.  Her body swaying from the gentle deep ocean waves.  Salty sprayed air whipping her hair about.

“You’re beautiful.  Marry me.”  He whispered.

“What?” Teris asked leaning closer.

She had seen his lips move but hadn’t heard him.

Yami gave a mental shake.

“Too much work.” He said.

Teris gave him a smile, understanding how one would wish to avoid work on their birthday.

As he closed his eyes again, she caught herself delighting in his form.

Something within her kindled and ignited.  She blushed looking away only to find her eyes return to him of their own accord.  He was handsome. And his sure easy nature only added to the pull he had on her.

There was something about the way he relaxed at the prow of the boat.  It was as if it and everything surrounding him, including her, belonged to him.  The thought gave her a thrill.

But it was more than all of that.  Yami make her feel as if she could trust him with her true self.  As if she didn’t have to behave a certain way to be accepted by him.  That he would never judge her for her actions or desires.

Yami opened his eyes and Teris watched them slowly rove over her from boot to head and if trying to memorize every detail of her.

Her skin prickled with the pull of his eyes, as if his gaze were a physical touch.

Reaching her eyes Yami realized his drink of her had been seen; but instead of finding censure or embarrassment in her gaze he found wanting.

In that moment Teris would had given anything, even her chance at Knights Commander, for him to grab her and kiss her.  She dug her nails into the palms of her hands reminding herself that this was one of the main reasons that she had chosen this outing.  So that there would be nowhere she and Yami could be alone should he get such an idea and test her ever shrinking resolve.

Yami watched Teris struggle with herself over something before she finally turned away.

The boat hit a large swell, knocking her back into his arms.

Yami silently thanked the sea, taking this as her apology for stranding him in a foreign land.

“Easy there, Princess.”  He murmured, breath tickling her neck. “Remember what I told you about always being watchful of the sea.”

“She’s the one who needs to watch it.”  Teris said, glaring out at the water.

Yami laughed at her.  “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” She said.

One of the sailors loudly cried the Captain’s order to drop anchor.

Teris tried to get up, but Yami’s arms tightened around her.

“Wait a moment.”  He said.

“Why?” She asked blushing.

Tobin came around and saw them, eyes and smile widening.  “I guess you needed this mornings activities more than I thought.”

Yami gave him returning the smile.  “Enjoy your swim.”

Tobin didn’t even have a chance to ask what Yami meant.  The anchors chain pulled taut as the anchor caught and Tobin fell over the low rail.

“Tobin!” Teris cried, jumping to her feet.

Yami kept a steadying hand on her, the other clutching his stomach as he laughed.

“Man overboard!”  One of the sailors called.

“Yami!” Teris scolded.  Her concern for Tobin clearly written on her face.

“He’ll be alright.”  Yami breathed between laughs.

The Black Bulls fished and swam.  Dozed as they dried out in the sun. Then fished and swam some more.  To Gendry’s pride and annoyance, Abril caught the most fish.  Venice caught the biggest.  And Olsen caught the most interesting.

“I’ve never known a person to catch an angel fish by rod, let alone two.” The Captain of the boat said, scratching his bearded chin.

Olsen had tired to give the angel fish to Venice and Teris saying, ‘an angel of my Angels’.  But they had made him toss the fish back.

As the sun began to set, the Captain called for the anchor to be raised and let Yami steer them back to dock.

“Thanks guys.  Teris.  That’s was the best birthday I’ve ever had.” Yami said, entering the Black Bulls base with his comrades.

“It’s not over yet, boy.”  Jax said from his favored chair.  “Bronn!” He hollered closing the book he had been reading with a snap.

“I heard ‘em.  I heard ‘em.”  Bronn said, entering the great room carrying a cake lit with twelve candles.

“Twelve?” Yami questioned looking up at the Vice Commander.

“The baker in Kiten forgot to send some and it was all we had on hand. Hush up.  Be grateful.  And blow the damn things out.”  Bronn barked.

“Preferably without spitting all over the cake.”  Olsen put in.

Yami smiled mischievously.  He rubbed his hands together and took a step back.

Bronn realized what he was up to a split second too late.  Yami’s mana cloaked hands clapped together blowing out the candles along with bits of cake which flew into Bronn’s face.

Bronn opened his eyes and licked around his mouth.

“Good cake.”  He said, before passing the tray over to Olsen.

“Oh, boy.  You better run.”  Tobin warned.

But Yami was already gone, with a torrent of hearty laughter.

Jax watched Bronn tear after Yami.

The Black Bulls Captain shook his head, smirking in amusement.  “Looks like he enjoyed himself.”

“Yep.” Tobin nodded.  “The guy had a near perfect day.  Guess that’s why he thought it’d be alright to die tonight.”

Along with Yami’s echoing laughter, Bronn could be heard cursing somewhere in the house.

“Take that to the dining hall and sever it up.”  Jax ordered Olsen. “Those two might be a while.”

“Especially if Bronn catches him.” Tobin agreed.

“I don’t want any trips to the Healers.”  Jax hollered, his words thundering through the house.  “Yami can consider that my birthday gift.  Speaking of which,” he turned to Teris, “something arrived for you this afternoon.  I had Bran leave it on the table at the entrance to the girls wing.”

“Still don’t see why you wouldn’t let the boy join us.”  Venice pouted for Bran’s sake.

Jax glanced over at Bran who was still sulking on the couch.  “Because he’s just that.  A boy.  Besides, he’s my recruit I can allow or stop him from doing whatever I want.”

16.3

Having taken the velvet-lined wooden box to her room, Teris set it on the desk and sat down.  Opening the box, she breathed a sigh of relief at the fine workmanship.

Despite the Leather Smith assurances she had been concerned about the short timetable having an effect on the end product.

“What’s this?”

Teris jumped up from her seat, Yami’s voice startling her.  “Wha—what are you doing here?”

“Hiding from Bronn.”  Yami said, entering.

“In the girls wing?”

He shrugged.  “What better place?  What are you doing up here?  Didn’t like the cake?”

Teris nervously looked about her room, trying to remember if she had put away her night clothes this morning, or had tossed yesterday’s dirty clothes in the clothing bin or left them piled on the floor.

“So, this your room.”  Yami said, looking about.  “I expected--”

“What?” Teris demanded, on edge for an entirely different reason than when he had first entered.

“This. I suppose.  It’s nice but not cluttered and bedecked with so much stuff that you feel as if you can’t touch anything for fear of breaking or dirtying it.  Kind of like you.”  He said, eyes focusing on her.

“So what?  You’re saying that I tastefully adorn myself but not to the point where one doesn’t want to touch me for fear of breaking or dirtying me?”  She asked, skeptically.

“You could be bedecked for a royal ball or wearing a feed sack and I’d still want to touch you, Princess.”

Teris looked away blushing.  Her hand absently brushed the soft leather of the belt meant for him.

Yami stepped in front of her.

Teris’ eyes widened as she remembered the gift.  Her hand moved to close the lid but brushed Yami’s instead when he laid a hand on the box.

“This is lovely.”  Yami said, looking at what laid inside but not daring to touch it.  “Wanting to add swordplay to our physical training?” He asked, noting that it was a belt meant to hold a long blade.

“No.” Teris said, giving up on the surprise and pulling her hand away. “It’s yours.”

“Mine?” Yami asked, looking at her, eyebrows raised.

She nodded and smiled weakly.  “Happy birthday.”

Yami turned fully to the desk.  His hand ran over the subtle brown leather.  Slowly he lifted the belt and secondary sword belt out of the box allowing them to uncoil.

“The main belt has a--”

Yami pulled a thin pliable but hammer hardened sword from the main belt.

“An actual belt sword.”  He said in awe giving the blade a few small swings before inspecting it further.

“It doesn’t have much of a handle.” Teris commented.

“What I would have given for one of these the day we were attack on the road when they took and tossed away my katana.”

Yami looked at her.  The memory of her being held and struck played clearly in his mind as if he had just witnessed it.  If anything, the memory and his failure to protect her had become harder to bare the dearer she had become to him.

Yami’s hand tightened on the belt swords short flat handle.  He had yet to find and kill the men but still felt as passionate about doing so as he had the day he made the personal vow.

“I doubt it’ll channel your magic half as well as your katana.”

“But it’s something, should I need it.”  Yami said, slipping it back in between the the seamless pocket of leather that was the main belt.

“Hopefully it’s never needed.” Teris said.

Yami set it back on the box and grinned as he moved to undo his belt.

Teris giggled in delight at his obvious fondness of the gift.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing boy!”  Bronn demanded, charging into the room.  He grabbed Yami by the scruff of the neck. “Attempting to partake in other birthday festivities?  Not while you’re in this house and I’m Vice Captain.”

“Bronn!” Teris cried, reaching out to try and make him release Yami.

Yami grimaced, teeth clenching as his knees weakened and buckled under Bronn’s punishing grip.

“I didn’t get you a birthday gift, but there is something I give presumptuous boys looking to become men while under my watch.” Bronn growled hand tightening.

A growling groan of pain sounded from Yami’s throat.

“Bronn! Stop it!”  Teris yelled.  She grabbed and pulled at the Vice Captain's arm.  “It’s not like that.  He was going to try on his gift.”

“I bet he was.  You should be ashamed of yourself, Black Sheep.  What would your royal little family say?  Have a hard time marrying you off it this got out, wouldn’t they?”

“Don’t debase her with your filthy minded insults again.”  Yami roared as he grabbed a hold of Bronn’s arm and gave a squeeze of his own.

The Vice Captain gave a cry of surprise and pain releasing his hold on Yami.

His neck let go of Yami threw Bronn over his back.

Bronn landed in front of him.  Half his body on Teris’ bed.  The other half on the floor.  The forced causing one of the beds legs to break.

“Why you...”  Bronn rolled his legs off the bed.  He head and shoulders hitting the floor as his legs fell off, leaving him flat.  He pushed himself up, raising his fists, and rolling his shoulders.  “You wanna fight Birthday Boy?  Let’s go.”

Yami grinned, making a fist of his own but wisely keeping them at his side.

“Come on, Lord of Destruction  Show me how much you’ve grown since I whipped your hide the when you first got here.”

“I never even tried then.  And you’re lucky I didn’t.”

“Shut up and put up.”  Bronn shot back.  “A man incapable of defending himself in a physical fight shouldn’t consider becoming a man in any other way.”

Yami took a step forward, fists raised.

There was a flash of light and Yami found himself firmly pushed against the wall.  Bronn was likewise pushed back.  The Vice Captain fell back into Teris’ bed, the weakened bed frame losing two more of its legs.

“Enough!” Teris yelled.  She looked from Yami to Bronn and back.  “You two wanna punch each other silly.  Fine!  Do it out of my room.  And you...”  She turned on Bronn.  “Where do you get off assuming such unbecoming things?  I don’t care how easy or difficult it is for my family to marry me off.  I’m not marrying who they tell me to anyway.  But I sure as hell am not giving myself to a man until I’m married to him.”

Bronn pointed at Yami’s unbuckled belt.  “But he—I saw--”

“For the last time.”  Teris grabbed and raised the belt she had ordered for Yami over her and hit the Vice Captain with it at every ensuing word.  “He.  Was.  Trying.  On.  A.  Gift.”

“Teris got him a belt for his birthday.”  Venice said from the door.

The three turned toward her.  Seeing the Black Bulls Captain also standing at the door, they all thought they were in real trouble. But Jax merely swallowed his smile, shook his head, and walked away without a word.

“That belt she’s holding there to be precise.”  Venice pointed.

Bronn turned and flinched seeing the belt raised for another strike.

The corner of his lip twitching into a frown, the Vice Captain muttered. “Apologies, Black Sheep.”

“And to Yami.”  Teris said, not lowering the belt.

“What’s this?”  Bronn laughed.  “You’re making demands now.  I--”

“You attacked and insulted him on his birthday.  Apologize.  Now.” Teris commanded, her righteous, royal anger coming off her in waves.

Bronn’s lip curled, nose wrinkling; but he turned to Yami. “Sorry for assuming that you were attempting to become a man like any boy your age hopes of doing.”

“What kind of apology is that?”  Teris demanded.

“The only one you’re gonna get girl.” Bronn snapped.  “If you think your Lord of Destruction is so different that given the opportunity he wouldn’t jump at the chance you’re the one who’s making the wrong assumptions not me.”

Stepping toward Teris, Yami took her still raised hand into his own and gently pulled it down.  “That leather’s of such quality that it doesn’t need working in to soften.”

Bronn sat up.  “Next time your girl tries to soften anything on me I’m going to soften your skull.  You understand me, boy.”

“And that’s enough of that.” Venice declared.  “All boys out.”

“You can’t order me.”  Bronn said getting to his feet.

Venice stepped towards him.  “As the highest ranking female.  When we’re in the girls wing my word is law.  I suggest you follow it.”

“Hogwash. I’m Vice Captain of the Bulls--”

“Captain Jax!” Venice hollered.  “I told Bronn to leave the girls wing and he won’t.  Can I set the traps and see him dead?”

“I’m getting girl.  I’m getting.”  Bronn snipped, exiting the room.

Venice looked at Yami.  “You too birthday boy.”

Teris handed him his gift.  “I hope you like it.”

“I loved it before you beat Bronn with it.” Yami grinned.  “Need help kicking that other leg out before I go?”  He asked, glancing at the bed.

Teris cloaked her lower leg and foot in mana and gave the bed frames remaining leg a kick.

The top right corner of the bed fell to the floor with a thud.

“I think I got it.” She said.

Yami stepped to her, thinking how he never got his personal gift to himself and kissed her.  “Night, Princess.  Sl--”

“Now!” Venice shouted.

“I’m just saying good night.”  Yami shouted back.

“You’re stalling.” Venice told.  “Birthday or not I will trap you in a mirror and break it into a million pieces.”

“Can she do that?” Yami asked Teris.

“I don’t know.”  Teris said, thinking it pretty neat if she could.

Oh great, Teris thought, I’m thinking like my brother.  Next thing I know I’ll be walking around in search of neat never before seen forms of magic.

She gave Yami a gentle push towards the door.  “Night.  Hope you enjoyed your birthday.

“Best one ever.” Yami said.

16.4

In the boys wing Bronn entered his room, leaving the door open to keep an ear out should Yami think to cause any more trouble.

Olsen, Tobin, and Gendry gathered around Yami in Yami’s bedroom, while Bran tentatively watched from a distance.  Uncaring, Iban retired to his own bedroom for the night.

“I can’t believe you went into the girls wing.  And survived,” Tobin awed.

“What did it look like?”  Olsen questioned.

“Clean,” Yami said.

“Did you get your kiss?”  Olsen asked puckering his lips.

Yami looked sharply at him wondering how the Water Mage knew that had been his intention.

Olsen smiled.  And said, as if reading Yami’s mind.  “You two have yet to kiss am I right?  Given your love for her it’s only natural that on your birthday you’d wish to gift yourself something sweeter than just cake.”

“I didn’t even get to have a piece of cake.” Yami sighed.

“It was good.”  Olsen said.

Tobin nodded in agreement.

“You love her?”  Gendry asked.

“Yes.” Yami said without hesitation.

“How—how’d you figure it out?”  Gendry questioned.

“When I realized I was going to marry her,” Yami said.  “From there the feeling only grew.”

“And when did you know you wanted to marry her?”  Gendry wondered.

“The first day I met her,” Yami answered.

“Wondering if you love Abril?”  Tobin teased.  “Wait.  What?”  He blinked and turned back to Yami.  “Say that again.”

“Say what again?”  Yami asked.

“The first day you met,” Tobin said.  “You mean at the Magic Knights Entrance Exams?”

Yami nodded.  “That’s when I decided I was going to marry Teris.”

“Are you crazy?”  Tobin expressed loudly.

“If you boys don’t shut up and go to sleep I’m gonna knock you out so hard you’ll be lucky to wake in the morning.”  Bronn shouted from his room at the wings entrance.

“Not crazy.  It was love at first sight.”  Olsen grinned, ignoring Bronn.

“It was my gut not my eyes the made the decision.” Yami told.

“So what?”  Tobin gave a huffing laugh.  “If you had had a bad breakfast that day you might not have decided to marry her?  Or was it a bad breakfast that caused all this?”

“I’m going to bed.”  Yami said getting to his feet.

“You hurt his feelings.”  Olsen told Tobin.

“He hurt nothing,” Yami said.  “It’s just that, fun as the day was, what didn’t get done today will have to be done tomorrow so I’m calling it a night.”

“You hear that?”  Tobin grinned, his tone teasing.  “Yami didn’t get to kiss his girl today so he’s going to try again tomorrow.”

“Saying your feelings weren’t hurt is exactly something one would say if their feelings had been hurt but didn’t want anyone to know they had.” Olsen said.

Tobin stared at Olsen shaking his head.  “I’m surprised you don’t live in the girls wing what with all your feelings and flowery words.”

“I’ll have you know that ladies appreciate my fine words and lack of fear in showing a wide range of emotions.  In fact my sweet Love saves the prose I write that tell of her beauty.”  Olsen informed.

“Right.” Tobin said dubiously.  “The girlfriend you refuse to introduce us to.  You won’t even tell us her name.  I bet she doesn’t even exist.”

“Oh, she’s real.” Olsen said.  “Much more real than your one sided relationship with Venice that’s for sure.”

Tobin glared.  “Maybe Yami has the right idea.  It was a long day and my tolerance of you is growing short.  Besides, I got breakfast duty in the morning.”

“Just don’t go waking anyone up the way you did Yami this morning.” Olsen called.

Tobin turned back smiling proudly.  “You heard about that?”

“Didn’t need to.  I saw you head upstairs with a bucket of water.  Mattress’ are difficult to dry out.”  Olsen said.

Tobin crossed his arms.  “Who cares about that.  I interrupted him having a good dream.”

“What? That Bronn went away on a mission and never came back?”  Olsen questioned looking between Yami and Tobin.

Tobin’s villainous grin grew.  “No.  A really good dre--”

“What did I tell you lot?”  Bronn barked from the doorway.

“We were just--”  Olsen began as he got to his feet.

“That boy deserved a birthday beating and instead I got welts up and down from that girl of his.”  Bronn muttered to himself.  His eyes landed on Olsen a cruel smile tugging at his lips as he cracked his knuckles.  “I’m gonna enjoy this.”

“Not the face!”  Olsen pleaded right before Bronn’s hit landed.

I write for my own enjoyment, but edit and post for yours.  If you enjoyed reading this at all please comment and let me know.  It’s the only thing that encourages me to keep editing and posting.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a VERY special thank you to those who have recently left comments or re-blogged.  They really mean a lot.

Taglist: @captncappuccino

[serendair]

The last 12 hours were a wild ride of emotions yet again in the Banana Fish fandom. And it wasn’t the first time in this story that we went through all 5 stages of grief within a few hours just to repeat the cycle shortly after.

The whole thing came down with the last episode airing or more like coming to the dreaded inevitable end that some of us (me included) hoped until the last second they averted somehow and do the biggest plottwist in plottwist history. Obviously it didn’t happen and Mappa stayed true to their word when they said they will stay faithful to the manga. 

So last night we all went through “stage 1 - denial and isolation” where we all (at least those I talked to and read posts of) sat there crying our hearts out over the loss of a fictional character. (Please don’t get me wrong here especially since I’m totally on board with all of you. It took me 10 minutes to stop the sobbing and even longer to stop the tears. So I by no means try to belittle the reactions to this tragic end of a beloved character. I’m just in disbelieve over myself mostly that I can get so attached that I feel such strong and deep feelings over - and let’s face it - fiction! That as such is a huge proof of how capable Yoshida Akimi is when she can create a story that evokes such a big resonance even on emotional levels. That requires quite some skill. And Mappa translated this to animation in an extraordinary way. I’m drifting off though so back to topic.)

The same night shortly after we already moved on to “stage 2 - anger” seeing all those posts on social media expressing (for the most part) their disapproval for the ending which to my distaste peaked in insults and threats towards the creator and the animation studio. I’m willing to think that this is only a momentary feeling lead by anger because I want to believe that I’m dealing with reasonable people that know to behave and express themselves better than that usually. (Again, this isn’t the point of this post either.)

“Stage 3 - bargaining” already was scratched at some point (and extended while I was sleeping lol) because there were already discussions about how and why Garden of Light didn’t make it into the animation. There were voices of approval and of disapproval from all sides and while I must say that I do like GoL as it does give us closure of some sort, I’m almost happy or relieved that they didn’t animate it (yet). Yes, I think the animation made it a little more obvious  compared to the manga that Ash actually died instead of just slept in the library but it still isn’t as ultimate as watching/reading GoL and be certain that this was indeed death. After all the manga as well as the anime without GoL does leave room for interpretation (even though a small one and I might be talking in denial here, but it is there). At least you can bend it enough to give fanmade sequels that include Ash without having it to be an AU some space to develop. Heck it even leaves a lose end to pick up for Mappa or any other animation studio buying the rights and continue close this story one way or another.

So not animating GoL might have been a deliberate decision by the animation studio Mappa for several reasons. Of course they knew what they were getting themselves into when they picked up this project as the end was not only already written but very well known to those who read the manga somewhere during the last 40ish years. Therefore the reactions regarding the story and it’s strongly discussed ending were known. They knew what was coming and yet stood strong to their word translating the manga to animation as is and did an amazing job at it (I’m not happy about the ending of that story at all but you have to admit that the show was a great piece of work. After all without the anime I would have never gotten to know the manga or the story in general and I’m sure I’m not the only one and I’m really grateful for that). And we have to keep in mind at this point that it’s not Mappa who decided on the ending but the creator Yoshida Akimi did 40 years ago. This is her story and we don’t know about contracts and copyrights and who has to say what about how the story may or may not be adjusted. Yes it is possible that Mappa might have had the chance to change the ending but didn’t, we don’t know that, but rumour has it that the staff wasn’t pleased having to produce the story with this outcome. (Apparently there was an interview of some sort where someone of Mappa stated this but I don’t have access to the source so I can’t say anything for certain. If I do get my hands on it will certainly edit it to this. That being said, if someone reading this has the link to first hand information I’d be so grateful if you could share it with me/us!) So taking this assumption into account I can imagine them deciding against GoL for just the fact that it leaves a small but existing open end that can be picked up not only by fans but professionals once the copyright is gone (Yes this would mean after Yoshida Akimi passed away and it wasn’t fixed otherwise in a contract somewhere. Not wishing her anything bad this means we most likely won’t see it anytime soon but from manga to anime was a 40 years gap so we can wait another 40 years, right? Bargaining right there...) 

Anyways. Where I’m trying to go with this post is basically “stage 3 - bargaining” because what else might it be that I’m about to say? Maybe I’m still stuck in denial but please hear me out (if you haven’t left after this wall of text already lol)

With episode 24 the story should be over. Right? Maybe there’s room to adapt the prequels “Angel Eyes” and “Private Opinion” or the sequel “Garden of Light” but from all we know so far the anime was planned to conclude within 24 episodes and those were delivered. Topic’s over. Or is it? Well... part of the bargaining that started yesterday were the following screenshots of streaming platforms (thank you @cyberiin​ and @buy-goldbye​ for providing me with the screenshots as I have no access to those platforms):

Clearly if the show is over the timers should have stopped and it most definitely should not say “to be continued”. I pushed that thought aside last night when I went to bed thinking that this is just an automated thing of these platforms and it will be gone once they update the information. So I went to bed with my broken heart thinking that this is the last image we get on the character relationship chart:

Only to wake up to an updated one:

Different character picture. No longer greyed out as all the other dead characters still are (including Lao). Ash as stubborn looking as always refusing to obey anything or anyone (including his own death?). Name still greyed out but that changed while I was writing to a white name:

So needless to say that this is getting my hopes up but I don’t want to hope too much. At this point this can mean anything or nothing. Maybe this is just Mappa’s way of coping with the fact that they didn’t like the ending either but had to follow contracts (as assumed by rumoured statements talked about before) trying to solidarize with fans and giving them at least an open end. That of course only applies if what is rumoured actually is true. It might mean something entirely different of course but this only leads to speculations I have no basis for besides my hope that they will still turn this thing on us. Why I’m still hoping although the story is over? Well not only the character relationship chart changed within a few hours after Ash’s “death” but noone cared to stop timers either. Quite the contrary even IMDb is in denial with us and the fact that official media sites like these don’t update the information but leave it open says a lot in my humble opinion:

I don’t know what to do with the information. Nothing is confirmed at the time I’m writing this and this 

being published while I’m still typing isn’t helpful either. All of the above leads my naive mind and bleeding heart to the conclusion that there is a happy ending coming somehow but honestly all you can take from this is that apparently the show isn’t over yet and they still have something up their sleeve for us. 

I’m sorry everyone that I don’t have anything profound to say or give you more insight than you already have. In the end this is just me rambling and ranting on about the current status quo and shouting out into the void in hopes my wish for a happy end will be granted. 

How do you all feel about this? Come talk and share your thoughts. Am I delusional for believing in it still or are you with me? I’m curious! Let me know :) 

[kusunogatari]

[ Portal Peril || Chapter Four ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Hatake Kakashi, Utatane Koharu, Mitokado Homura ] [ Verse: White Hands of Healing ] [ Previous || Next ]

Time is nearly impossible to gauge within Kamui, so when Obito wakes, he has no idea how long he’s slept. All he does know is that the hard stone of his pocket dimension is nowhere near the comfort of his bed at home, body sore after being so tightly curled atop a cube of rock for gods know how many hours.

He wakes slowly, disoriented. His exhaustion from the night before has left him almost completely befuddled. It’s been so long since he’s had access to his chakra, that going so overboard in his attempts to reopen the hole between the dimensions has his head swimming.

For a long moment, he just lies there, awake but not yet moving as he tries to regather his balance. Only once he feels steady does he sit up, looking out over the expanse of cold, unfeeling stone.

...he’d almost forgotten how...lonely it is in here. Though he faced his share of struggles after the fourth war - his stint within Konoha’s jail, and then being a forced roommate of Kakashi’s for six months - since those trials have been over, he’s been a bit spoiled, in a way. He may have lost access to his kekkei genkai and chakra, and had to work odd jobs and odd hours...but he’s had other things he’d either been missing for years...or never had at all. A home: a real one, not just some hovel to hole up in, or Kamui when the need arose. A place to return to every night when his work is done, a bed to sleep in...and someone to sleep beside.

...and now she’s gone.

The sobering thought actually bows his head with a painful cringe. As tired and weary as he is...he can’t stop now. There’s far too much riding on his success. If he can’t find that opening - if he can’t get her back…

...he doesn’t want to think about it.

Instead, he pushes the thought aside as he lurches to his feet, staggering a bit from both fatigue and the soreness in his back at his rather uncomfortable night. But at least he slept...he’s going to need it.

A rush of chakra takes him back to the path outside Konoha, and he glances around the growingly-familiar place. It’s quiet, late morning...he overslept. Hopefully he hasn’t missed many opportunities from the other side to align their portals. Of course...he can’t know that whoever’s on the other side is working as he is, let alone as diligently. He’s assumed that the other Obito - or...whoever managed to connect to Kamui - has been at least considering the possibility of sending Ryū back. They wouldn’t have any reason to keep her.

...would they?

Another thought he doesn’t want to entertain. Instead, he regathers his focus, familiarizing himself again with his surroundings and the near-exact spot where he first sent Ryū through. He has to get everything right...the angle, the height, the distance. If the portals are a flat plane, it all has to line up perfectly to reopen the hole between them.

Once he has the proper position, he awakens his Sharingan, Mangekyō spinning into the proper pattern. Chakra surges through his system, calling upon the dimension he knows so well.

Like a window, a glimpse into it opens, showing the stones and shadows of Kamui...but no view of any other dimension as he wants. Keeping it open for several seconds, he then lets it fade, releasing a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

After about two hours, his body decides to give him another wake-up call. It’s been far too long since he put something in his stomach. Maybe not wholly necessary given his zetsu half, but...well, it’s a habit he’s gotten used to. Another way he’s been spoiled. And now that he’s making himself go without, it’s a noticeable difference.

Sighing, he drags a hand down his face. In truth, it’s only a few miles left to Konoha...irritating, considering that the rogues they encountered not only dared, but managed to get this close...which then caused this whole debacle. If they hadn’t showed up...or maybe if he hadn’t sent her through...then…

Well...no point in such thoughts. They won’t bring her back. Instead, Obito weighs his options. Should he return to Konoha to refuel? Or will that get his time cut short?

Konoha, however, decides to make that choice for him.

Idling in thought, he glances up as a hawk gives a cry, settling on a branch nearby.

...this can’t be good.

Approaching and taking the note attached to the bird’s leg, Obito skims it, brow furrowing the further he reads. Apparently, the few days Kakashi thought he could buy him have been cut short. The council has noticed his...extended absence, and wants a report.

And if this gets messy enough, the other Kage might get involved, given that he’s an international criminal who only just got returned access to his chakra.

Sighing curtly, Obito pinches the bridge of his nose. He can’t just...stop! What if the other side makes contact? The other dimension? He can’t afford to miss it...he can’t…

...but in the face of his stubborn insistence, a bit of logic manages to be heard. If he goes back and gets permission for more time through the proper channels, things will be smoother. If he instead ignores a direct summons from the Hokage...well, he can probably kiss access to his chakra goodbye.

So, as painful as it is to leave this place, Obito nods the courier off before giving it all one last look with his Sharingan. He needs to have it memorized in order to return to the right place.

Once that’s done, he turns and makes his way back toward the hidden village, sacrificing energy for speed. The sooner he gets back and cleared, the sooner he can return to this spot and keep trying to open Kamui.

The gate, as usual, is bustling, and he has to navigate the crowds before reaching the administration building. Ignoring the typical odd looks and few glowers he gets, he marches straight up to Kakashi’s office, taking the time to knock.

...at least he didn’t just teleport this time. But if the council is there, it’d make a rather...crass impression.

He’s given permission after a small pause, opening the door to find Kakashi behind his desk, as usual. And on either side are Homura and Koharu.

...why Kakashi hasn’t kicked these old bags out and replaced them, Obito can’t understand. Especially as they look distastefully to his rather...unkempt appearance. Ah, right...he’s still covered in dirt and dried blood. And he probably smells wonderful...

“Obito,” the Rokudaime greets, tone clearly tinged with exasperation. But already Obito knows that isn’t his fault - that would lie with the elders on either side of him.

“Uchiha Obito,” Homura then begins, and already Obito can tell this is going to be a painful conversation. “Why did you not return within the allotted time for your mission?”

“There were complications,” he mutters in response, doing his best to keep his temper. “As you might notice by the fact that my partner is missing.”

“Where is miss Suigin Ryū?” Koharu then demands, clearly aiming to double team him with her fellow elder. “You were her protection detail!”

“Like I said, there were -”

“This trial mission was meant to be a gauge for your ability to re-enter the mission pool,” Homura cuts in, and Kakashi shoots Obito a warning look as he bristles. “Not only have you returned late, but without the medic you were assigned to?”

“Utatane-sama, Mitokado-sama,” the Rokudaime then interjects, drawing their gazes to his exhausted expression. “Perhaps your inquiries would be better answered if you gave Obito a chance to respond. I’m sure he’s well aware of the mission parameters...and what’s gone wrong regarding them.”

Both elders seem to puff up indignantly...but don’t argue, instead exchanging a glance.

“...very well.” Homura clasps his hands at his front. “Do explain the details of your mission...and answer our questions.”

Obito draws a long, calming breath, exhaling slowly. Just remember...this isn’t about your pride. This is about Ryū. “...three days ago, I was sent with the medic Suigin Ryū to a nearby village to protect her while she was to administer vaccines. The day went well, but we stayed an extra night due to the schedule running long. The following morning, we left the village and began making our way back to Konoha...when we were confronted by several rogue shinobi a few miles from the village.

“They were easily dispatched, but more followed. I used my Sharingan to teleport Ryū to safety before killing the rest of them. Upon going to fetch Ryū...I found her missing.”

“Missing? Where, precisely, did you teleport her to?”

Obito’s teeth grit, not exactly eager to explain Kamui to anyone he doesn’t have to. “...my Sharingan grants me access to a pocket dimension. I sent her there to keep her safe. When I went to get her back out...she’d disappeared. Which, in theory...should be impossible. Only someone with my Sharingan can access it.”

That seems to greatly unsettle the old pair. “You have access to an entire dimension separate from our own?”

What, they didn’t tell you that after my trial? he thinks dryly to himself. “Yes.”

“...was this ability considered when giving you access to your kekkei genkai and chakra?”

“He was fully cleared by the board, yes,” Kakashi cuts in, putting a stop to their dithering. “I knew well what Obito’s Sharingan is capable of, having wielded it for a number of years myself.”

“You didn’t think it a risk?” Koharu demands.

“...not at all. There aren’t many ways he could misuse it. And we had insurance that he would behave.”

“Insurance?”

It’s here Obito and Kakashi exchange a glance. While Obito and Ryū have been public about their relationship since Obito was released from his house arrest with Kakashi, no one beyond they three and Naruto are aware that they were in fact together long before the fourth war. Such knowledge would, of course, paint Ryū as a traitor, having withheld information about Obito from the village even after learning about his involvement with Akatsuki.

“...after having spent so much time with Obito as his medic, Ryū befriended him, and...things later turned romantic,” Kakashi cautiously explains, using their typical cover story. “It’s why she was selected as his mission partner. She’s the one person, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Obito would never harm or betray. He’s become very...attached to her. It was meant to be a failsafe, until...well, this happened.”

“So...what did happen to her, then?” Koharu asks, turning back to Obito. “If she was put into this uncrackable dimension...where could she have gone?”

“That’s where we’re unsure...all we have is a theory: that Ryū was somehow taken out of Kamui by an Obito of another dimension.”

Both elders stiffen in surprise. “...you believe such a thing to be possible…?”

“While fighting Kaguya in the fourth war, we and the rest of team seven were pulled into multiple other dimensions,” Obito explains. “And there’s always been theories about alternate timelines, given the way space-time ninjutsu can cause splits - fractures - in the timeline. For every action, there can be a branching path, creating another universe altogether. Or so the theory goes.”

“It’s as Obito said: only his Sharingan can access Kamui, the dimension tied to his eyes.” Kakashi steeples his fingers, leaning elbows atop his desk. “Therefore, we can only assume that whoever took Ryū out of Kamui had to have the same eyes...in other words, they must be another Obito.”

“Before being summoned back, I was working on trying to align the portal as I did when I first sent Ryū through, hoping to make contact again and bring her back,” Obito then cuts in. “The longer I’m held here, the greater the odds that I miss them, or they give up attempting to make contact...if they are at all. It’s already going to be difficult enough to do without squandering time…!”

There’s a long pause as Koharu and Homura seem to think, exchanging glances. “Is it truly so imperative this woman be found?” Homura then dares to ask. “Allowing an international criminal access to his chakra, unobserved, to fiddle about with a dimension only he can access seems a huge liability. Need I remind you, Kakashi-sama, that the world is watching how we handle this? You may have your biases toward Obito due to your past associations, but none of us can afford such a luxury.”

Holding up a hand, Kakashi brings Obito to a halt as he takes half a step forward, rage in his eyes. “Obito...a moment, please.”

Seething, the Uchiha manages to retreat, his body language not unnoticed by the elders.

“...I’m going to put this into terms that you can hopefully understand,” Kakashi then offers, addressing the pair. “As I’m sure you are aware, more than half of Obito’s life, as of the fourth war, was spent on the path he branched to after agreeing to Madara’s plan. It was his entire purpose, his...obsession. Which was then broken and lost when Naruto changed his mind during the war. He betrayed the man he’d partnered with, who had controlled and manipulated him. The purpose he’d had for so long was suddenly a moot point. Years of his life...gone and wasted in a matter of hours.

“Obito was key to defeating both Madara, and later Kaguya. Does that wipe clean his record? No. But his trial granted him a second chance: a lifetime to atone as much as he can before dying, rather than simply being killed outright. Obito now has one purpose: to make up for his misdeeds. For the rest of his life, however much of it he has left.

“Now...Suigin-san has been a kind and influential figure in Obito’s life since the war,” Kakashi then fibs, both he and Obito understanding just how much more of an impact she’s truly had...that they cannot admit to. “I want you to imagine what something like that would come to mean for someone who has been through what Obito has been through. And now, perhaps, you can understand the importance of returning her here. Obito’s stability lies greatly on Suigin-san’s shoulders. It’s why he has, up until being summoned, been so fervently searching for a way to get her back.

“I realize the other Kage are wary of him, as are you, and nearly everyone else. But one thing should be made abundantly clear to you. If Suigin-san is not returned...the thing that has been anchoring Obito will suddenly be lost. He already made poor decisions when he lost someone dear to him before. Does that sound like something you want?”

Both elders are clearly tensed, exchanging wordless glances.

“I believe...we understand,” Homura offers stiffly.

“...then you agree with my decision to allow Obito access to his kekkei genkai and chakra until Suigin-san is found?”

“It seems we have little choice in the matter,” Koharu sniffs. “...but yes, we will allow it. But know this, Kakashi-sama...the other Kage will be watching. If anything goes wrong…”

“I’m aware, and prepared to deal with it,” Kakashi replies flatly. “I assure you, I’d rather deal with peeved Kage than a desperate Obito. And that’s speaking from experience.”

“...very well. Whatever comes to pass next shall be your responsibility. We wash our hands of it,” Homura mutters.

“Not a problem,” Kakashi replies, tone just as unenthused. He watches the pair retreat, leaving him alone with his prior teammate. “...well, I suppose that went about as well as I could hope for.”

“Why are those two still advising you, Kakashi?”

“Believe me, I’m working on it. Now...I think you have work to get back to, hm?”

“After a brief respite to refuel, I’m afraid. Turns out I’ve gotten rather spoiled and out of shape...I’ve got a stomach that won’t shut up and a chakra system that’s lazy.”

In spite of himself, Kakashi gives a single huff of a laugh. “...you know, I just might join you for lunch. I’m not in much of a mood to be in here for a while after that.”

“Be my guest.”

The pair take their leave, underling shinobi looking uncertain as Kakashi simply abandons his office. Waving them off with a ‘be back soon’, he keeps up with Obito’s determined pace. “So...did you make any progress?”

“I think the only progress to be made is to make contact,” Obito counters. “Until we manage to get portals to cross, nothing else can be done.”

“Mm, true…”

“...I just hope that, whoever is on the other side, is working like I am to get her back to the dimension she belongs.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“...I don’t know. It’s just a lingering worry…” A gloved hand pulls down his face with a stressed sigh. “...I don’t know what I’ll do if she’s stuck there, Kakashi.”

The Hatake gives his old teammate a wary glance. “...nothing brash, I hope.”

“...no. No, I’m too...tired for that,” Obito assures him, tone oddly soft. “...I’d keep trying. Until I had no more strength to try. After that, I think I’d just...give up.”

“...give up?”

“...you were right, back there. Explaining to those two. I had a life, and I lost it when that boulder crushed me. Then I had a purpose, and it consumed me until the war. And then I lost it. If I had never met Ryū...if I didn’t have that to return to? I really think I would have died in that war. An easy way out with nothing left to strive for. I had to beat Kaguya. But after that…? I really don’t know.”

The pair step up to a takeout stand, waiting in line and ignoring the looks they get, each for their own reasons. “...before I went to the battlefield, I’d promised her I’d come back. That we’d stay in the village, hide away, grow old...and that’s exactly what Mugen Tsukuyomi gave her. But when I realized that the dream world wasn’t the answer, then...the only way to keep that promise was to actually come back. So...I did.”

“You survived all that for a promise to her...and now you’re stuck here, instead,” Kakashi mutters.

“Yeah, well...we can’t have everything we want. But...that’s my point. If Ryū is gone, then...I have nothing else to do with myself.”

Kakashi pauses, thinking back to the conversation he had with Ryū before their first visit to Obito in Konoha’s prison: about how key she was to Obito’s future behavior.

“If he loses you - if you die? That might very well put him back at square one. It would be like losing Rin all over again...but possibly even worse, given the circumstances. If I had to guess, knowing Obito as well as I can know him...I think he’d go one of two ways. He’d revert to when he lost Rin...or he’d just...give up.

...well, she isn’t dead, that we know of...but it seems I know him about as well as I could hope to, he can’t help but think dryly to himself. “...I understand. I guess for now, all we can do is hope you get her back. And you know I’ll do whatever I can to help. Which...I guess isn’t much beyond keeping the council and the Kage off your back while you work.”

“That’ll be enough,” Obito murmurs in reply. “I just need time...and a whole hell of a lot of luck.”

“I can help you with the former, but...I’ve always been shit at the latter, myself.”

“You and me, both.”

They stand around and eat their takeout, partially to let Kakashi be free of the office a bit longer, and partially to let Obito leave straight from there to return to the road. Once they finish and chuck the containers, Kakashi sighs. “...well, I guess I’ll let you get back to it, hm?”

“I’d say I’ll let you know when I make contact, but honestly I’ll probably just act as soon as I do.”

“That’s fine. You can surprise me when you bring her back, safe and sound. I’ll even give you a week off from work to celebrate.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Hey, be grateful, hm? Besides...that’ll just be icing on the cake to getting her back.”

“...exactly.” Expression both stern and uncertain, Obito gives a curt nod. “...until then.”

“Good luck.”

Rather than walk, Obito teleports back to the proper section of the road. Huh...the bodies are gone. Seems someone finally sent a clean up crew from Konoha. Good. One less thing to worry about: the smell of decaying corpses.

“...all right, Ryū...let’s get you home…!”

     Woo, finally getting back to this fic! And in fact: it's all finished! I'll be posting the other two chapters plus an epilogue here shortly!      This chapter's mostly insight on Obito's side of things, and how both he and Konoha have to handle themselves given how...delicate the situation is. Otherwise...not too much to say about it, I s'pose! Obito's just gotta get back to work getting that portal open!      And as always, thanks for reading!

[365daysoftododeku]

16th January 2019

Author: Fitzfire

________________________________________________________________

The Third Message

The phone didn’t ring. Izuku doubted it would for a while. Knowing this, though, he couldn’t help but sit there and stare.

He’d a message returned, and then another message, and then message after message after message. For hours and hours that stretch so long, they’d just talk about anything and everything. Message after message after message and Izuku found himself more and more invested. What else could he do but wait for another?

The bane of his existence was his policy. He wouldn’t start more than two conversations. Period. After that, he had to wait for the other person to start the third. It was a pretty good standard to set in his opinion. Made sure he wasn’t harassing anybody that didn’t actually want to talk to him. It had always worked out fine before. Uraraka came to him as regularly as he did to her. Iida always checked in. Bakugou always had something to accuse him of or rant about. Waiting for the third text had never been a problem. Not until now.

Todoroki.

He had so many things to tell him! An entire list! Todoroki seemed to like his ramblings, and by god did he have things to ramble about. Then there were the things going on in his life. He wanted advice and encouragement and validation. God, he was such an attention whore, wasn’t it?

They’d been texting just two hours before this!

But he wanted more! Was that so terrible?

______

The phone didn’t buzz. God, he shouldn’t be hanging on the line like this! Todoroki had things to do. His was an engineering major and a tennis player. Life? What life? Izuku didn’t have one of those for sure. Two hours had passed, a perfectly reasonable gap in conversation, but here Izuku was, stress level of the highest setting.

______

A lifeless phone sat for another several hours, well into the night. He should sleep. He should really sleep. But as long as his phone slept, he didn’t want to. That in and of itself was problematic because he didn’t want to sleep when Todoroki was texting him either. He needed sleep sometime. Or did he? He was almost sure it was optional at this point.

Where was his heartbeat at he wondered? How far was it through the rough? His feet twitched, and his fingers drummed against the table. There was homework to do. Lots of homework? Was he going to do any of it? Maybe…

…not.

He turned on some Sailor Moon and let it play in the background and hoped to fall asleep to that.

It didn’t work. He stayed up all night in angst. Somewhere along the way as the sun came up, Izuku realized Todoroki’s first class had already started, and that his own course was coming up very soon. He should probably get ready for that.

He pulled his red converses out of the closet and shoved his feet into them. Time for his three hundred level speech class! He only had about, oh, three hundred steps. God, these campuses were large. Why’d he picked a school so big? He couldn’t remember, or at least he didn’t bother to at the moment.

______

“He hasn’t tested me back!” Izuku cried to the heaven. Those heavens happened to be his favorite Bubble Tea Café and cried turned into a soft bemoan. Pathetic? If so, he’d given up his dignity a long time ago, so what did it matter?

Uraraka rolled her eyes. “I saw you texting in class yesterday, and I assumed you continued after?”

“Well, yeah…”

“Then the fact that you’re worried about it is ridiculous.”

“I know that,” Izuku said.

Uraraka laid a hand on his back. “I know it’s tough, but would you really want to be texting him every hour of his day.”

Izuku’s head swiveled toward him.

“If you answer that question in any other way than no, then I’m calling bullshit.”

Izuku deflated.

“You’re such a lovesick puppy,” Uraraka said.

“I’m not.”

“You are!”

Izuku shook his head violently. “I’m not in love with him.”

A few of the people sitting around them stopped what they were doing to turn and give them both hard looks. Had his voice been that loud? Izuku blushed and almost made an apology, but Uraraka grasped his hand.

“I didn’t say you were in love,” Uraraka said. “You’re just acting like in some fairy tale princess world.”

“I just want him to text me back,” Izuku lamented.

“So, how’s real life?” Uraraka asked.

“What?”

“How’s actual school?”

School? Oh right! That’s why he was here.”

“Fine…”

“That bad?”

“Yeah…”

Uraraka took her hand away and shook her head like a disappointed mother. “There are other things in life besides texting a cute boy.”

“I know. I know,” Izuku said. “But I can’t help it! I want him to tell me things about himself. I feel like all we ever talk about it myself…”

“Then ask him something about himself.”

“I would, but I can’t start another conversation!”

“Why?”

“Because what if I’m just harassing him?”

Uraraka snorted. “You’re really not.”

“How can you be sure.”

“Honey,” Uraraka said, leaning forward. “He’s behaving about as bad as you are, if not worse. If you text him, he’ll text back.”

“What if he thinks I’m obsessive.” Izuku closed his eyes. “Am I obsessive?”

“You’re a mess, Izuku,” Uraraka said. “Just texted him.”

Izuku pulled his phone out of his pocket and laid it out on the table, even unlocked it and held his finger over the screen. Then he chickened out. “I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I can’t!” Izuku swallowed, casting around for the reason that Uraraka would accept. “He’s going to think I’m an obsessive creep.”

“You said that already.”

“But he will!”

“That’s the anxiety talking,” Uraraka said. She held her hands out to wrap him into a hug. “I love you, Izuku, I really do. But you’re a silly guy!” After a moment, she pulled back and started bouncing in her chair, grinning. “Text him.”

“I shouldn’t…”

“Text him!”

“I really can’t…”

“Text-“

“Look!” Izuku opened his messaging app and started scrolling. He scrolled up and up and up until he got to the top of their conversation from yesterday afternoon. He pointed. “I was the one who started this conversation!”

Uraraka took the phone gingerly and cradled in it her hand. She scrolled down and down and down. “This was all yesterday?”

“I mean, we were texting all night too, and that bled into three in the morning.

Uraraka stopped scrolling suddenly and turned to regard him. “You guys text too much.”

“Too much?” Izuku spluttered.

Urararka’s gaze returned to the screen.

“That’s even more reason to wait!” he exclaimed. “I’m basically harassing him at this point.”

“Fine,” she said, handing the phone back. “Promise to text him tonight? Ask him about his day or something. Please!” She turned her puppy eyes on him. “Do it for me?”

______

Math came next. He hated math. He really really hated math. By god, he was a social science major. Did he really need this? While he knew the answer was a resounding yes, be basked in the righteous anger.

The uncertainty was building. Izuku wanted to pace up and down his small apartment. All his school supplies were stacked neatly on the desk, but he didn’t reach for them. When he finally stopped, what he reached for wasn’t productive at all. His phone.

Would it vibrate now that he was staring down at it? Of course not! A watched pot never boiled.

He threw the phone on his bed and sank to the floor in a heap.

Two days before they’d spent almost a fourth of their day just keeping each other company. How long had they stayed up? Four in the morning. Was the sustainable? No. Did he want to have that again? Yes. Was that the definition of needy? Probably.

They had been talking, and now they weren’t.

“Come on!” he moaned into the emptiness of his room.

That’s when the unwelcome started to swirl around. Gnats spinning around in the air. Every possible transgression assaulted Izuku. Too forward? Clingy? Desperate? Needy? Boring? Terrible names attacked him over and over again and over again.

Ridiculous.

He knew that Todoroki enjoyed talking to him. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew Uraraka was right.

Still.

What time was it? He did grab his phone that time. Nine in the afternoon? Had he eaten? He’d probably forgotten. There was the coffee, and then there was the bubble tea. That was it, wasn’t it? He sighed. He should probably go grab something.

Panda Express sounded alright.

And just as he was about to reach out for his bedroom doorknob, his phone buzzed.

He ripped the device out of his pocket, and, with shaking fingers, unlocked the damned thing. What had he said? How had begun the conversation? Where was he now? What was happening in his life? What did he want to tell Izuku?

Absolutely fixated, Izuku unlocked the phone.

Uraraka: Have you texted him back yet?

Dear fucking god.

Shaking fingers typed out a message back.

Izuku: no…

Uraraka: You should go for it.

All the tension had drained from Izuku’s body. All the motivation as well. He held on to the idea of food. Sustenance was good for the soul and probably for his whirling mind as well. He took an incredibly deep breath and grabbed for his coat.

His phone went off again, but he didn’t need anything more from Uraraka. He didn’t even bother to check the caller ID.

______

Three entries and a substantial helping of brown rice later and Izuku was all tuckered out. He was ready to let his lull on a pillow, but he was still miles away from his home. He’d take a minute. Just this one moment, to relax in this booth.

Or at least he tried.

The anxiety was still there, pooling in the bottom of his gut. The little warmth inside that only came with a developing crush. He wanted to nurture it. Keep it alive and well and healthy. But that suggested it required his upkeep. This thing would fill the inside of his mind and swirl inside gut no matter what he did.

His phone buzzed again. Uraraka? But when he pulled it out of his pocket, it wasn’t so.

Todoroki.

Todoroki: How’s your day going?

Izuku’s heart skipped a beat.

Izuku: Good!

Todoroki: I’m glad.

He was glad!! He was happy Izuku’s day was going well! Izuku almost fainted in happiness and glee. Izuku almost typed out that his day was going a lot better now because Todoroki had initiated a conversation, but that would probably seem creepy.

The third message.

Izuku waited for Todoroki to text back.

When nothing came for a moment and then another moment, he changed directions and texted Uraraka.

Izuku: He texted me back!

A minute later, Uraraka texted him back.

Uraraka: I’m so glad

Uraraka: What did he say?

Izuku: He’s not texting me back!

A long pause.

Uraraka: Oh my god!

Uraraka: Not every conversation can consist of about a hundred messages!”

That sounded fake, especially because the next sound he heard was another buzz of his phone.

Todoroki.

Izuku swooned.

Another message. Maybe Three. Maybe another thirty or more. Izuku would cross his fingers.

________________________________________________________________

Would you like your work to be featured in the 365 Days of TodoDeku Project? Apply here! (≧∇≦)/

[smokedstorybara]

I’m compiling a list of all my wips w/ summaries here to remind myself what all I should be working on and keep myself accountable - and if y’all wanna yell at me about them please do

(Also be warned there will be some spoilers in here cause I suck at non spoiler-y summaries)

Fanfics:

Dear Evan Hansen:

(Apprentice) Park Ranger Handsome part 16 (doesn’t even have a name yet I’m so sorry)

Evan and Connor’s first date!! They go to the orchard of course, and have more relationship conversation... and a picnic.

Fae Court AU

Prince Connor of the Winter Court falls in love with a human boy and acts on it, despite his parents having Rules against relationships with humans. The consequences are big but Connor and Evan weather them well.

Flash:

Soulmate AU (I’m thinking ‘Dream A Little Dream Of Me’ for series title)

A series of one-shots following the Arrowverse characters - with a bit of a focus on Team Flash and the Legends - as they find love and happiness , with some bumps along the way, in a world where you share dreams with your soulmate. Timeline is spread out from Stein and Clarissa’s first meeting to some point around mid canon.

endgame ships include Barry/Len, Hartley/Cisco, Wally/Jax, Sara/Ava, Nate/Ollie/Felicity/Lisa(it’ll make sense I promise), Iris/Caitlin/Shawna, and more

Role-reversal AU

In a world where Barry was kept strictly away from the file on his mother’s murder after he becomes a CSI he grows resentful and distrusting of law-enforcement and a little quicker to recognize that he can’t entirely fix the issues with the police from the inside. So when he wakes from a nine month coma with super speed his first thought is how much he can shove the police’s faces in the fact that the system isn’t perfect and needs to change... he becomes the world’s fastest thief - unbeatable. At least until he goes after a certain diamond at the same time as one Leonard Snart, who walks away from the encounter looking to the world like a hero and gets a sweet taste of positive press that he’s not all that eager to give up.

Harry Potter crossover

Snart and Rory go “backpacking across Europe” on a ridiculous challenge to steal one thing in each country. Their last stop is in England and they’ve set their sights on a suburb in Surrey... which leads them to noticing the treatment of the young nephew of their potential target. Being survivors of abuse themselves they decide to remove him from that environment... along with all of Vernon Dursley’s valuables. Raising a kid is hard, raising a magical kid while maintaining positions as master thieves? ...piece of cake...

Check Please:

Moving On

When Jack and Bitty go through a messy breakup their friends are torn and Bitty is uncertain about what to do, especially when he has to go back to Georgia - where he’s firmly in the closet - for summer break. He can’t talk to his family or his friends about all his conflicting feelings about what happened, so he somehow finds himself corresponding with the one person who he knows would understand - Jack’s other ex, Kent Parson. He also finds himself growing closer to the previous year’s freshmen on his college hockey team and the team’s new manager - especially when summer ends and they’re all handling the situation better than the rest of his friends - ie: behaving like nothing happened except that they’re immediately down to fight Jack at a moment’s notice.

The Umbrella Academy:

Ghost Dave (that’s what it’s called in my google docs but it’s definitely not gonna be the title of the final product)

Dave Katz has been haunting the surviving members of his unit for a couple decades when the story about the 43 women comes on the news; a story Dave had heard plenty about before he died from his lover, Klaus Hargreeves. In whose tellings of it he was one of the children born that day. He also had claimed a few times to be from the future so Dave was fairly willing to take this as proof he was telling the truth. Immediately Dave seeks out Reginald Hargreeves and the 7 of the children he adopted. Over the next 29 years Dave follows the young Klaus around, giving him advice and unconditional friendship and protection from the other ghosts the poor kid could see.

Circle Of Magic crossover

When Tris finds herself dropping out of some kind of portal in a strange land it doesn’t take her long to figure out that some mage had decided to get rid of her - and possibly her siblings - by banishing her to another world, one with advanced technology but not much by way of magic - if one didn’t count the six super-powered siblings she appeared in the middle of. At the same time, but also not, Tris’s adopted sister Sandry wound up smack dab in the center of a group calling themself The Commission who’re very interested in adding her to their ranks, she joins up but maintains suspicion. Daja, the third sister, follows a pair of assassins. And their one brother, Briar, falls into the Vietnam War alongside one freshly tortured Klaus Hargreeves. They all find their way back together eventually - with much fewer casualties than if they hadn’t been there

Harry Potter crossover 1

When an eighteen-year-old Klaus Hargreeves gets bored of being lookout on a mission in London and wanders into the bar across the street he isn’t expecting to find a best friend, but that’s exactly what happens. Lily Evans is a couple months into a break-up and still tired of her ex and his idiocy, especially after his most recent letter - a pile of stupid big enough to send her straight to her local bar. The two hit it off instantly via complaining about anything and everything and egging each other into doing the most ridiculous but fun things. Their night of fun turns sour when Klaus finds out his brother Ben died during the mission and at least one of his siblings blame him. Lily takes the broken boy back to her flat and let’s him stay with her until his visa to stay in England runs out. Thirteen years later the apocalypse is interrupted by a tired ex-professor bringing life changing news - Lily was pregnant when Klaus left England(they’d slept together a handful of times but were never more than friends with benefits), also Lily and her husband(the idiot ex who apologized and changed his behavior, Klaus was at their wedding) are dead and Klaus and Lily’s son was placed with his aunt Petunia(who Klaus has met and knows the boy never should’ve been put with) because only five people besides Lily and James knew who Harry’s father really was and the only one capable of doing anything about it had to find the wandering junkie first. Klaus handles all this about as well as a powerful veteran with a traumatic childhood can - fighting tooth and nail for custody and then raising the boy the best he can with help from his siblings and robot mom and shoving his son’s happiness and safety in the faces of everyone who did the boy wrong

Harry Potter crossover 2

Not long after the war ends Harry finds that he can’t stand staying in magical Britain any longer, so he takes his godson and moves to America. Six years later one of the kids who live across the street sneaks out his window, wearing only pjs despite the heavy snow. Harry finds himself staying up waiting for the boy to return to their street and making some hot cocoa - which he offers to the boy as soon as he sees him. It quickly becomes a Thing(tm); Klaus will sneak out his window in the middle of the night, go for a walk, and eventually wind up having hot cocoa in Harry’s kitchen. They form a strange friendship, one where Klaus has someone he knows he can go to when everything becomes too much - even if that means crawling through Harry’s window, collapsing on his floor in tears, and falling asleep on his couch, waking up just in time to get home before his absence is noticed. Three more years have passed when Harry and Teddy are idly watching tv and Harry sees a very familiar face as Reginald Hargreeves introduces ‘the inaugural class of the Umbrella Academy.’ When Klaus comes over that night Harry asks how much choice Hargreeves gave him and his siblings in their ‘heroics’. After some thought Klaus remembers how his brother Ben hadn’t wanted anything to do with what happened at the bank but was made to participate anyway. He answers honestly: they weren’t really given any. Thus begins Harry’s campaign to get custody for the kids from Hargreeves.

Original Works:

Four Elements Universe(a collection of stories set along one timeline - very far apart and with no overarching plot, just a shared world):

Sisa:

A secluded young king sneaks out of his castle and gets a job under a false identity in hope for friendship, then gives everything up to help his new friends and the rest of his people when he realizes the extent of his adviser’s corruption. Around the same time, a teenage master thief is hired to steal a specific box from the castle - and then to help another thief break her friend out of the castle dungeon - and uncovers several major secrets that might just change the fate of the kingdom.

Kings:

Bandit King Vakhtang’s life is irrevocably changed when he agrees to lend his men to a rebellion for a hefty amount of gold. Over time he finds himself growing fond of the boy prophesied to be the next king and learning just as much from his new employer about letting himself care and open up as he’s teaching the boy how to protect himself. (His best friend and lover is very proud of this growth and kinda wants to adopt the kid)

The Completely Unrelated Adventures Of Four People Who Had Nothing To Do With Each Other Beforehand:

Four teenagers in rural Texas follow a cipher they found in an old tome and discover that all four of them have magical abilities, and that their town may not be as average as they’d believed. As they delve deeper in this new world they uncover two different secret organizations and find themselves caught in the middle of a dangerous conflict over a powerful artifact - that may or may not be the kid sister of one of them.

Mythicals:

Six kids around the world each find objects - artifacts - that grant them magical transformations and abilities. Seven years later all six of them end up at the same prestigious performing arts school in New York. When they discover that they all have these artifacts and powers - and that New York and possibly the world is in danger - they team up to protect everyone else, and quickly become close friends. Though one of them has a secret that could drastically change how the others view them... and possibly risk the fate of the human race.

Eternity And Forever(this one does have an overarching plot):

Eternity Of Forever:

Back in the early years of humanity a young man goes up a mountain for his Trials of Adulthood - a series of three trials set to test a person on the traits of whichever three gods they’ve been assigned to serve - unfortunately for this boy he’s been chosen for the gods of empathy, loyalty, and love... three traits that do not come easily to him. In his desperation to pass his trials he cheats the system and gets caught. As punishment he’s cursed to live forever just on the cusp of adulthood but never reaching it, the only way to break his curse is to prove - with no possibility of dishonesty - that he’s capable of the three traits. Over the next few millennia he gets caught up in a war for the fate of all life on earth, and also somewhat adopts a maybe-alien and falls in love with a time traveler.

Throughout Eternity:

At some unknown point in the future all that’s left of the human race is a refugee colony on an island floating above the desolate remains of our planet. It’s into this that Quinton is born. But when it’s discovered that he can travel through time with just a thought he’s trained for a very important mission: to go back in time and stop the apocalypse. Shortly into his mission he meets an immortal teenager who claims to have met Quinton’s future self and who offers to help, telling him that first thing he should do is gather a team to help him - he even provides names and years. This little team becomes like a second family to Quinton, especially the pretend-aloof immortal.

Forever And After:

After the death of the closest thing he ever had to a father, Slythus finds himself applying to the superhero school the immortal had founded - despite knowing that even if he were accepted into the student body he’d never be accepted by the student body. Somehow he manages to get in... and even more impossible; manages to make friends. But even as he learns how to be good, his past is lurking on the edges of his new life and quickly becoming impossible to ignore - figuratively and literally.

Shadow Warriors:

After the dragon Svartr gets cursed protecting a village from invaders they offer their children to be trained by him - to take care of him as his condition worsens. Those selected and taught by him become known as the Shadow Warriors. Alexir was born several generations after the tradition began of sending every twelve-year-old up Svartr’s mountain for the selection and she never expected to be chosen, being much more focused on intellectual growth than physical, so when it happens it comes as a bit of a shock. She struggles to keep up with her peers in most of the lessons but refuses to give in, pushing herself to reach their level while also learning the complexities of friendship from them all.

Consequences(originally titled ‘Consequences of War’ until I realized it’s more about just consequences for actions in general - like: don’t piss off the powerful magical Being hiding out in the abandoned building):

After deliberately pissing off what they believed to be a ghost - or a false rumor more likely - a college aged idiot ends up being banished into a strange world... with a distinct change in biology(mostly in the area of hormones and primary sex characteristics). As they travel this new world in search of a way home - and back into their original form - they learn new things about themself and make interesting new friends. They find themself questioning whether they actually want their ‘old body’ back and then, when they begin to fall in love, whether they really want to return to their old world.

[davidbuddbg]

Chapter 6: What if it’s worth it?

Taking my car wasn’t an option. The bodyguards could probably track it from a distance with some sort of device. I went in to the garage, on the minus 2 floor of the building. I pressed on a button of the car key in my hand and the lights of a Porsche 911 turned on. In my souvenirs, the car was less red, but after all, it had been a while since I’d last driven my dad’s car.

I couldn’t use my phone for guidance since the police had confiscated it. That meant I had to put my open laptop on the driver’s seat and I hoped I would come across no Police officers, especially, you know, because of the gun inside my bag.

I didn’t put in the exact address into the Nav, but rather a parking lot about two miles away. I backed away carefully from the parking spot, knowing father would kill me if I scratched his baby.

Now on the road, I began to remember why I loved this car so much. The very sound of the engine made you feel free and it was as if you could forget everything else. The drive went by smoothly and the Porsche swept through the highway. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was doing something dishonest, naughty even. Should I have told David? I began to worry, but then realized it was too late: I was almost there and had no phone.

I parked the car on the parking lot which was almost empty if not for the overfilled dumpsters clustered around the fences. I took my handbag from the driver’s seat and placed my laptop inside, also making sure I still had the gun.

I was weary and shaky as I walked on the wet asphalt, hoping I had correctly memorized the way. The streetlights were scarce and I could hear the echo of my own steps, somehow exuberating my uneasiness.

When I was less than a mile away from the given address, the echo distorted, resonating differently. I took a turn I didn’t need and noticed there was someone walking behind me. “Fuck,” I cursed internally, feeling rather helpless in the middle of nowhere with no phone. I turned another turn, into a smaller alley this time and the shadow followed me in.

I stopped in my tracks, appearing as if I was searching for something inside my bad so I could confirm the suspicions. Just when I was about to think I had been imagining things, an arm encircled my neck from behind, strangling me. I knew it!

Now on overdrive, I instinctively kicked the man behind me in the crotch area before freeing myself from his hold in the short seconds of confusion that followed my kick. I immediately grabbed the gun from my bag and pointed it at him, the safety off and my shaky finger on the trigger. It was just a kid, I noticed. Sixteen or seventeen, maybe. The black-haired teenager was looking at me with fright, his hands up in the air as he pleaded for me not to shoot.

My hand was trembling. I couldn’t shoot someone at point blank, even as exhausted as I was. “Just leave me alone and go home,” I shouted, shaking my head. The teenager immediately complied, leaving me alone. I took a few seconds to calm down before I started running too, to the address in the email.

I arrived at the house. It wasn’t difficult to find since there weren’t that many on that street. While it wasn’t exactly in ruins, it did seem as if no one had taken care of it in a long while. I let out a long breath and squared my shoulders before walking up the stairs to the porch. Just as I was about to knock, a bald man dressed in a suit opened the door.

“Miss Guinness, come on in,” he greeted me. His voice seemed neutral, neither happy nor displeased at seeing me. I followed him inside and noticed the wallpaper was coming off in bits and the wooden floor cracked too much for it to be safe.

The bald man led me to a large room, and there she was! Julia Montague sitting down on a chair, looking all banged up, as if she’d gone through hell and back. She managed a smile at my sight, moving as much of her face as she possible could through the severe burns.

“Alma,” she spoke, her voice so weak it became close to a whisper. “I’m happy to see you made it out just fine.” Julia tried sitting upright, but she could barely move, at least not without help.

“What happened?” I blurted out, my eyebrows furrowed. How was she even alive?!

“After the explosion, as I was brought to the hospital, I met with Anne Sampson,” Julia explained before coughing heavily. “She and rest of the high placed staff at the New Scotland Yard thought playing dead was the only way for me to make it out alive.”

Julia gave me more details, but it didn’t make sense in my head. “David and I are suspects!” I shouted, full of accusation. Maybe she was safe now, but she’d definitely left a mess behind herself.

“I know you didn’t plant the bomb, Alma,” Julia said softly, as if that would reassure me. “That’s why I called you here.”

“You’re right Julia, I didn’t do it,” I spat out, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Neither did Dave but he’s now under investigation!”

Julia sighed, and I was envious at how she managed to stay calm in such times but I wasn’t about to cut her some slack. “Alma, I know you love him,” she declared straightforward as if it was a universal truth. “That doesn’t mean he can be trusted.” I cocked an eyebrow at her, before leaning back against the sofa. “Alma, don’t tell me he never behaved suspiciously?” She said leadingly, but it was almost as she was daring me to defy her statement. And I had zero tolerance for dares.

“No, he never did behave suspiciously.” I affirmed with authority though I was lying through my teeth. She most likely knew it but didn’t say anything.

Speaking lower again, Julia asked me to keep the tablet hidden. She couldn’t trust Sampson’s people with it and for some reason I couldn’t quite grasp, she thought I could be trusted.

“Alright, it’s getting late,” Julia deadpanned, making me look at the clock. It was after 5am and if you concentrated enough, you could distinguish the birds chirping outside. “So, let me tell you the real reason I called you here.”

Julia needed me to pursue my internship. No, she needed me to spy on Mike Travis, who was acting at the interim Home Secretary. She didn’t trust him, and I had no option but to accept this, this mission. She handed me an old red Nokia. “The text messages you sent through this phone can’t be traced,” she explained.

I left the house around 6am and the neighbourhood did seem a lot less gloomy and daunt in daylight. I made my way back to the car, feeling confused, betrayed, angry… So many things at the same time, I believed my head would explode at any given second but somehow it didn’t. She did give me an idea though, and I stopped at an electronics store in the outskirts of London to buy two cell phones before heading back to my parents’ flat.

----

The elevator arrived on the seventh floor, and I stepped out walking to the front door. The bodyguard on duty seemed surprised to see me.

“Miss, I thought you were inside,” he stuttered, looking at the closed door and then at myself again.

“Well, I’m kind of a magician,” I chirruped rather irritated before letting myself in as the man remained outside, looking puzzled.

Once inside I called for David but I didn’t get a reply. I walked to my bedroom, or rather to our bedroom but he wasn’t there and the bed was made up. I searched the entire apartment, becoming more aggravated each time I didn’t find him. Sighing in defeat, I opened the front door again.

“Hey, did you see David?” I wondered lightly, not wanting to show any more emotion to a stranger.

“He left a couple of hours ago,” the light-haired man replied, short and sweet as he continued standing straight.

“And you let him?!” I blurted out, almost screaming as I realized I had no means of contacting Dave since he had no phone.

“Miss, our duty is towards you, not him,” he explained and I felt so much anger rush inside me that I could either knock his head unto the wall or the shut the door with so much strength, I’d wake the entire floor. Rationally, I took the second option even though the first one was more appealing.

Inside the flat, it took me a while to calm down and start breathing normally again. I didn’t know what was going on with me. I was now sobbing, my back sliding down against the wall of the bedroom until my butt hit the floor.

This wasn’t me, I thought drily. I didn’t cry, I didn’t raise my voice, I didn’t panic. Those were emotions which has absolutely no logical or rational purpose and I was a rational person. Crying wouldn’t make the pain go away, screaming wouldn’t make the situation stop and panicking wouldn’t prevent events from happening. And yet, I couldn’t stop myself from feeling any of those emotions.

I wiped the ears away from my cheeks with the back of my hand and tried steadying my breath. “You’re alright, Alma,” I whispered softly to myself. “You’re just exhausted, you haven’t slept in a few days,” I continued, breathing in and out slowly. I almost managed to convince myself of that but there was a feeling at the back of my mind that I couldn’t shake. Something was wrong, I just couldn’t pinpoint what.

I took a quick shower and changed into clean clothes, misleading myself into thinking this made everything okay. I hid my laptop and gun again, before leaving the flat and meeting the fair-haired bodyguard again. “Can you drive me to the Homeland Security HQ?”

They drove with me to work but because of Britain’s exclusive jurisdiction on security matters inside the building, they couldn’t follow me in. Somehow, I still had the clearance with allowed me to get to the main floor, just like Julia had promised.

Once there, I immediately rushed to the reception desk. “Hey Susan,” I chirruped, making the middle-aged woman look up at me. “Is there any way I could speak with Mike Travis?”

Susan replied that he wasn’t taking any visitors today but that she would ask nonetheless.

“He’s waiting for you,” she informed me, holding the door to Julia’s previous office open for me.

“Sir Travis,” I greeted him as I approached his silhouette to shake his hand. Somehow, I had never liked him and I was rather sure the feeling was mutual. He indicated for me to take a seat and so I did.

“Miss Guinness,” Mike Travis spoke and I could finally pinpoint exactly what about him made me so distrustful: His voice sound just like Wormtail’s from the Harry Potter movies. “I didn’t think you’d want to continue your internship after all that’s happened.” So, Travis did want to get rid of me.

“Oh, well,” I chuckled falsely. “You know how us Brits do it: Keep calm and carry on.”

He didn’t seem convinced by my act, not in the least but he had no official or legal grounds to terminate my internship. Especially since he knew who my uncle was. Instead, he assigned me to boring legal duty with the rest of the legal advisors. Great.

I did witness how he held a security meeting, with Stephen Hunter-Dunn and Anne Sampson, among others, but I had no way of joining them. The day seemed to draw on. The work was of the most boring kind and most of all, I was worried about Dave. The only positive thing was that in the legal advice service, your day ended at five. And when the clock hit five o’clock I was more than ready to leave.

I rushed into the car downstairs. “Home?” The oldest bodyguard inquired as he turned on the engine.

“No, take me here instead.” I forwarded him a piece of paper in which Dave’s address had been scribbled. I didn’t want to be clingy, to chase after him but he had no phone and I was worried. After more than twenty minutes, the car stopped in front of a line of grey, monotone, identical houses. I had never been here but we were at the right address, so this had to be it.

I exited the car and the men followed me around the block until I found the correct house number. I knocked on the door but there was no answer. Then I found the doorbell and decided to ring it, but no one came to open the door.

“Miss, are you sure you gave us the correct address?” The bodyguard asked kindly, seeming rather worried about my panicked state but his concern only managed to anger me further. I tried to look through the blinds but the house seemed empty. He was probably with Vicky, I tried to convince myself but I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

“Will do you do me a favour?” I asked the light-haired one again as I crutched down next to door. The young man nodded. “Take your phone and set up an appointment with a glazer, please.” I finished, just before picking up a rock and throwing it at the window, which immediately shattered.

Without giving it another thought, I slid myself inside, trying not to cut myself. “You guys stay here,” I ordered, before moving away from the window. The house was very grey and monotone, just like the whole block. It made me wonder if Dave had given me the correct address all those months ago when we first met.

“Shit!” I cursed out loud. I slid down to my knees next to him, behind the couch. His was lying on the floor, against the back of couch and the fabric was ruddy. “Oh, my gosh, David!” I blurted out, panicking as I grabbed his shoulders to pull him upright and my hands came back tainted with blood. “What the fuck happened?!”

He finally raised his head, looking at me. His face was stained with blood, but what caught my eyes were the dried-up tears around his eyes and on his cheeks. I wasn’t doing okay since the bombing, but Dave was doing worse. He tried to speak, but his throat was raw and he coughed before trying again, his voice barely audible. “The bullets,” he mumbled, pointing at the gun on the floor, next to the crutches, “they were blanks.”

“Thank God for that David,” I spat out sarcastically, staring at the gun. Dave was mumbling something about someone having broken into his flat, but I didn’t care about that when he was in this state. Seeing Dave like this made me realize I wasn’t up to the task. Maybe I could help, but I wasn’t enough. Not when he was this bad. “I’m taking you to the hospital,” I announced, seeing the wound on his head.

Dave protested with all the strength he had left. “Don’t, love, please,” he begged.

Silently, I helped him stand and handed him the crutches. I waited for him to sit down before I went to the bathroom downstairs to retrieve the first aid kit Dave had told me about. Now inside the bathroom, under the cold light, I noticed I had managed to smear my face with my bloody hands. With his blood. The freezing water hit my hands in the sink, making them tremble more if that was even possible. I wanted to cry, but my eyes wouldn’t let me. I couldn’t. I needed to be strong, for him.

Somewhat calmer though still shaky, I returned to the kitchen, he was sitting upright staring straight ahead. Following his gaze, I noticed the four envelopes positioned on the buffet and immediately knew what was inside. Instead of commenting on that, because what would I even say, I searched for a Youtube video on my phone to learn how to stitch.

“Can you at least tell me why?” I finally dared ask as I hunted down the bullet fragments on his skull with a pair of tweezers. He didn’t even budge under my touch.

Dave didn’t answer and after a few minutes, I no longer expected him to, but then his face broke down again and he confided in me. “I’m an invalid, Alma,” he spat out, like he was disgusted with himself. “First, I wasn’t capable of doing my job and protecting you,” he admitted. I wanted to interrupt him, disagree, after all I was still alive, but he went on before I had the words figured out. “And now, I’m not even capable of walking properly, let alone run,” his voice was seemingly louder now as he continued his rant. “I’m not even able to put a bullet through my brain,” he blurted out in agony.

I took the time to remove the last fragment from his skull before speaking. I needed to figure out what to say and how to say it, or this would all go up in flames.

“Dave,” I cooed, squatting down in front of him and taking his hands in mine. “Dave, look at me,” I repeated before placing my thumb under his chin and forcing his eyes to meet mine. The bright blue orbs were washed out and it broke my heart into a thousand pieces.

I let out a long breath, before speaking softly. “I don’t care whether you can walk smoothly or run. Neither do Ella, Charlie or Vicky, Dave,” I spoke in earnest, taking a moment to wet my dry lips. “We love you for who you are. You’re aren’t just some PPO, David,” I stopped for a second, my voice cracking under the emotion. “You’re a human being. You’re a father, a husband, a friend, and a lover.” I felt too warm all of the sudden, putting myself out there like this, completely out of character but at least Dave was still staring at me. “Most of the time, you’re also a provider, but you are much than that and you remain the David Budd we love even if you need to stop being the provider every once in a while, and be the received instead.”

Dave’s eyes broke out in tears and I closed my eyes, internally cursed at myself at having made things worse. Again. But then I felt his arms around me, he was hugging me, sobbing next to my face, and let him stay like this for as long as he needed.

The mood was much lighter as I cleaned his scalp with alcohol and stitched his wound to the best of my abilities. Afterwards, I helped him downstairs to the bathroom, and he didn’t protest. I did notice however, that he was walking with more ease and it brought a smile to my lips. I let him get dressed in peace and went outside to let the bodyguards know we were going to the safe house. When Dave joined us outside, he was wearing a black cap and it suited his face.

The ride to Vicky’s house was relatively silent. There were some things David and I needed to talk about, but those were important matters we couldn’t discuss with strangers listening in on us.

Vicky tightly hugged Dave as soon as he stepped inside. She opened her eyes mid-hug and mouthed “thank you” at me. Then the kids came running downstairs, both hugging their father, almost making him loose balance.

It was only after a few emotional minutes that Ella noticed I was there. “Who are you?” The little girl asked suspiciously, with those big eyes only kids seemed to be blessed with.

“I’m Alma, a friend of your dad’s.” I wasn’t sure how to introduce myself to the kids but Ella simply shrugged it off before hugging me as well, taking me by surprise. Charlie was a lot more reserved but he did smile and nod when I said hello.

Vicky had ordered pizza and we all sat around the table for dinner. Some chit chat was made, but it felt as we, the adults, were all hiding something.

Out of nowhere, Ella stopped eating her slice of pizza and looked up at her dad with confusion. “Why are you wearing a hat?”

David looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “It keeps my head warm,” he managed to say after a few seconds but neither Ella nor Charlie seemed convinced. Gazing at them, Dave started silently sobbing. I looked at Vicky, not knowing what do it, but she didn’t seem better prepared for this situation then I was.

“Dad, what’s wrong?” Charlie asked, his childish, happy voice cutting through the sombre atmosphere.

Dave started shaking his head softly before speaking weakly. “Nothing, I just need a hug.” At once, both kids jumped up from their chairs and went to hug their father again. And if Dave’s face was anything to go by, their hugs were indeed the best painkillers in the world.

Letting Dave have some quality time with his kids, I grabbed the empty pizza boxes and followed Vicky into the small kitchen. She was piling up the glasses in the dishwasher and silently pointed to a big cardboard box where they seemed to collect all the recyclables.

“I know you aren’t just a friend,” Vicky said, breaking the silence. I turned to face her, somehow scared she’d be angry but she actually sported a small grin on her face. “It’s okay, Alma. I’m happy if he’s happy.”

Her words stung even though she most likely didn’t intend that. Dave wasn’t happy and I felt powerless to change that. “Do I want to know the reason for the cap?” Vicky asked after a few long seconds had passed, observing Dave with the kids as she leaned against the doorframe.

“I suppose your first guess is correct,” I intimated, finding a subtle way around the sensitive subject. She knew what the cap was hiding, it was obvious and yet not enough for it to be publicly discussed. “I’m going to try to convince him to seek professional help.”

Vicky sighed before turning around and putting her hands on the top of my shoulders. “Good luck with that, Alma,” she sputtered, somewhat hesitant. “I’ve been trying for years without luck.”

David and I remained with them until it was time for the children to go to bed. The kids appeared heartbroken as Dave wished them goodnight, but he promised to come by again soon.

------

Now on our way home, Dave did appear to be in higher spirits. I wouldn’t say he was happy, but he did seem soothed, even surprising me when he took and kissed my hand as we were being driven home.

Just like all the previous days I could remember, I was tired, incredibly so. But considering Dave’s state, it’s not like we would have gone out clubbing anyway so I ignored the fatigue, thinking it was normal. I doubted he even did go clubbing in his free night. We both got dressed for bed and for the first time, appeared to be like normal people.

I was reading a Turkish novel, Kurt Seyt vê Sura, I’d begun months ago and had just found again on the nightstand. Dave was lying in bed next to me, setting up the new phone I had handed him when we arrived home from dinner.

“Love?” He asked eventually, his Scottish accent smoothly breaking the silence and I breathed out a small ‘huh’. “I know we never really talked about that, but hum-,” he stopped mid-sentence, reconsidering his wording and I dropped my book, rather interested now. “The whole condom story the other day made me wonder if you took another contraceptive.”

I chortled in genuine amusement, but Dave was silent and confused. The fact that men, even in their thirties just like now, always became so uneasy when discussing contraception was too funny. “Yes, Dave, I’m on the pill,” I finally managed to reply when I regained my breath. “Don’t worry about that.” To be fair, considering the amount of stress I had been under in the past weeks and how exhausted I was in this moment, I doubted my reproductive system even had enough energy to work properly.

Silence conquered the bedroom again and I was about to turn off the light when I saw Dave rubbing his shoulder, a small grimace on his face. “Here, let me give you a massage,” I offered and gestured for him to turn around, which he did. Careful as not touch the wound on his thigh, I straddled him, putting my weight on his buttocks.

For the first time, I now realized how deep the scars on his back really went. While some were fine and almost imperceptible by touch, others felt like crevasses, like they had been carved into his skin and flesh with nothing but cruelty and pain. I sighed internally as I mentally took in the causes of the scars and it reinforced my belief that David needed therapy if his mental scars were just one tenth as deep as the ones on his back.

Putting these thoughts to the back of my mind for now, I grabbed some hand lotion I always kept on my night stand and started rubbing it into his skin, carefully avoiding the bandage on the back of his shoulder. Instantly, I felt Dave’s muscles quiver and then relax beneath my hands.

“Thank you for today, love,” Dave murmured against the pillow after a few minutes. “And seeing Ella and Charlie again, I really needed that.”

I didn’t reply, instead I placed a kissed on his deepest running scar hoping that somehow it would help. When his skin had fully absorbed the lotion and my arms were tired, I rolled over to my side with a sigh.

“You know what, honey?” I used that nickname on purpose to make him move since I never used it otherwise. To my consternation, David turned his head towards me but didn’t move the rest of his body. “I think you should turn around and give me a foot rub.” I simpered, on the border of erupting with laughter.

“Sorry, love, but I can’t do that,” Dave whispered, his face still buried against the pillow. Curiosity was now getting the best of me, I mean, I could have just said no.

“Oh, come on, Dave,” I insisted still amused, now grabbing his good shoulder to roll him around myself.

To my amusement, and to Dave’s unjustified embarrassment, I quite immediately understood why Dave didn’t want to turn around when I saw the growing bulge inside his black boxer brief. Well, it had been a few days, I told myself as I licked my lips. “I could actually help you with that, you know?” I suggested brazenly, looking up at Dave with an expression I hoped was sensual.

“Oh, you can?” Dave dared me with his deep voice, now having positioned his left arm over the pillow to support his head, and his embarrassment had now obviously dissipated, into something more confident.

“I do believe it’s within my area expertise,” I purred, trying not to laugh at my own words as I took off my bra and moved to straddle him. Dave pulled himself into an almost upright position, his attention now having diverted to my breasts. “On one condition, though,” I added, already panting with excitement.

“Whatever you want, love,” Dave moaned, the fabric of our underwear rubbing against each other as his tongue took over my nipple. Satisfied with the answer, I pulled off his boxers and pushed my panties to side, our bodies almost able to connect but not quite yet.

I pulled his face away my chest until I could trace kisses on his face, from his lips to his ear. Finally letting our bodies connect, I whispered my condition in his ear, “you’ll start therapy next week,” before moaning with pleasure.