#it’s actually a little bit sick how I remember the one direction calendar year of 2012 like.. to a scarily accurate extent

[sunshineneedsaplacetokeephernsfw]

Immortal - 1, Introduction (kinktober)

Kaminari Denki - Electricity

Warnings: 18+ (minor dni), non-consensual touching, electricity, creepy Denki, running, not edited

Word count: 3,185 (this is longer than all the other parts)

Masterlist

Part 1 | Next

October

The month that had become dedicated to stories and decorations on store shelves that ranged from spooky to creepy. But there was a strange unsettled feeling resting in the air this year. You felt it in the cool breeze and the whispers as people talked about the missing heroes from the past two years.

It was hard to believe the year was almost over. Especially when it felt like it had only just started, but here you were. You checked the clock and found your shift was done. You promptly wrapped up what you were doing and practically skipped out, with a book in hand. On your way out, your ear caught snippets of a conversation.

"It's horrible what happened."

"I wonder if it's going to happen again this year."

Right.

Two years ago, in October, the famous incident occurred when several students from U.A. went missing during a mission they had all been on. No one could ever find a single trace of them.

You pondered on it as you walked on the sidewalk with your book tucked under your arm. The sky was a deep blue and the air you breathed in was crisp and refreshing. And you were off work for the rest of the day. Which meant you could finally read more of the book that had been sitting on your counter for the past month. And it was a perfect day to read outside.

But you couldn’t stop recalling the strange, seemingly related event that happened last year. The next year after the disappearance, also October, two more heroes who had only just recently graduated from U.A. vanished the same way. It was also around that time when they realized that the villains Shigaraki and Dabi never showed their faces again, and the League of Villains seemed to be looking for them.

However horrible the disappearances, it soon faded into past news and life went on like nothing had ever happened. However, when the calendar changed to October once more, everyone was on edge. The heroes seemed more cautious, the public held their breath in anticipation.

You did your best not to care. It put a sick feeling in your stomach. Hopefully your book would manage to distract you.

Upon finding a nice bench, with a view of the nearby forest, you sat down with a content sigh and flipped the book open. Thankfully, it worked. You slipped into the story, hardly even noticing when you flipped the page or even when the clouds began to block out the sun. You only stopped when it became nearly too dark to read the page. You looked up.

Night had fallen. Shadows stretched and covered everything like a blanket. The only bit of natural light was a dim blue that was sure to fade soon enough.

Your heart beat fast. You closed your book and started in the direction of your apartment. There were always stories. Stories you knew were real. Stories that you'd hear all throughout the whole year, about people staying out too late at night and running into the wrong people. Real monsters.

This was your plan until you spotted somethin- no, someone moving. In the darkness, it took you a moment to see them more clearly. Someone in black and gray from head to toe, not a single bit of skin showing. And one in yellow, a top hat, and a theater mask. It took a moment, but you recognized these two as villains. You stumbled back. They were on the news once, and now they were there. You could see them. They could see you if they looked, they just hadn't yet. Or had they?

Your hands shook. Your limbs were frozen for a few precious seconds. Seconds that you could have used to get away. You ran to the forest. It was the first place you thought of. Maybe you could hide in the trees if they followed you. It was certainly a better option than running in the middle of the street.

The shadows swallowed you. You rushed past the tall trees that loomed over you. Twigs snapped beneath you. The sound of your own terrified breathing filled your ears. So loud, you thought everyone could hear.

The thought of actually stopping to hide finally occurred to you. You ducked behind a tree, hoping it was wide enough to completely hide you. Your eyes darted everywhere. You stopped breathing, praying that you wouldn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Nothing. Just the wind in the trees above. The leaves were so dark they looked more black than the sky above you.

Suddenly, your eye caught something that you missed. It was large. You jumped, as if some primal instinct were prepared for a giant monster. It didn’t move. You squinted and let out the breath you were holding.

It was a mansion. There were no lights on inside of it, and the wood was so dark it almost blended in. You never heard about this being here.

You wondered if anyone lived in it. Maybe they could help you. Though, it thankfully seemed like you weren’t being followed. It would be easy to just walk up and get a closer look. With a hand against the tree, you considered your options, to stay or check it out.

Your curiosity won the day.

You stayed low, prepared to dive behind a tree or bush, or duck underneath the mansion porch's railing. Almost every sound was amplified in your ear, making you jump. Which included the sounds even you were making.

The door wasn't locked. It swung open with ease, seemingly inviting you in.

You were considering whether you should enter, when you heard a distant, deep voice behind you. Your heart leaped from out of your chest. Following the voice, now another one, were footsteps. Without a second thought, you dashed inside and closed the door.

The entrance was large and open. Two staircases across from you. Two rooms to the left and right. You stepped into the left room to peer through one of the windows. You walked closer and closer to it. But no matter how close you looked, even when your nose was nearly against the cold glass, you could only see black. You stepped back in confusion.

It was the moment that you heard the door opening that you realized there was nowhere to truly hide in the left room. You quietly ran and dove under the table in the right room. Probably a dining room. The old carpet was rough against your elbows propping you up. You willed yourself to stop breathing as you watched their feet slowly tread in.

"I don't remember this mansion wasn't here last time we searched here," one said.

The other closed the door behind him.

"Yeah. This place is cool, but a little creepy. It's old and boring!"

"You don't suppose this mysterious mansion would have anything to do with Shigaraki's and Dabi's disappearance?"

"Hopefully, definitely not! Everyone's been looking for them for a long time. But I think the voice behind the screen cares more about Shigaraki."

You couldn't hold your breath anymore. You tried to be as quiet as you possibly could, but the small amount of air you allowed yourself just made you breathe faster and heart race. What were they doing here? Still looking for Shigaraki? You resisted the urge to peek up at them. If you could see them, they could see you. But somehow even looking at just their feet filled you with anxiety. Jumping every time one seemed to walk towards you. You wished the table was lower. That there was a long tablecloth that would hide you. That they wouldn’t see you.

"We should tell Kurogiri about this. Let's just leave."

"I agree." A moment passed. He tapped his foot against the floor. "I seem to not have a signal here."

A few seconds and some rustling. "Me neither. I'll go out and make the call."

His heavy steps left, leaving the other to wait behind, but only for a second.

"Um, you might need to see this. We're screwed."

"Hm?" He promptly left, leaving you alone.

You considered getting up and running away. But where would you hide? Would you be fast enough to hide somewhere else? Maybe you could open a win-

"How… did this happen?"

"I don't know! I just walked out and saw the ground wasn't there anymore! Or the trees or anything!"

You barely concealed a gasp. The door slammed shut and you saw two pairs of feet walk in once more. They debated for what felt like hours. Your nerves were shot and it felt like your elbows had rugburn. Finally, they walked up the stairs. You waited just a little longer until you heard a door closed. And even longer, until you were sure.

You slid yourself out from under the table. That couldn't be true, right? You ran to the door on your tippy toes, wincing every time you made the slightest sound. The door opened after a gentle twist.

You looked out. And sure enough. There was nothing beyond the porch but an endless black. Not the kind of black when everything's too dark to see. Even then, the shadows had depth. This.. seemed to stretch on forever.

You rushed back in and grabbed a vase on a wooden stand. Fragile white with turquoise lines that formed diamonds. You almost felt bad for what you were about to do. You lowered the vase to the dark, one hand on the floor board while the other reached down as far as you could with the vase in hand.

The vase never touched the ground. With a sigh, you let go of it. It dropped and dropped. Fell and fell, slowly spinning… until you couldn’t see it anymore. You listened for a crash, some sign that it reached the bottom, but the only sound was your own breath.

No bottom in sight.

This had… this had to just be some sort of quirk. Some sort of… defense for someone living there. It was the only explanation. That had to be it. You weren't trapped there with no way out, right?

You sat up. You cautiously glanced into the room before stepping in. You hadn’t noticed that it should be too dark to see anything. But somehow you could, like dim light coming from a moon that didn't exist.

A red carpet led to the staircase, then split to go up each set of stairs. Between the two sets of stairs was a book on a stand. One you hadn���t noticed.

You opened up a window and looked out. The void was still there. Still wrapping around the mansion. The only thing that existed now was you and this house. And the villains.

You wrestle with your pocket while dashing to a dark corner beside a table, and ripped your phone out. It nearly fell out of your hands as you turned it on and dialed the first contact you saw. Dial tone. The number was unavailable. You texted your parents. The text couldn't get through. Zero bars. You could get onto social media or make a Google search. But you could post or message anyone. Not one word, not on a single forum.

Your hands trembled. You ran one through your hair, grabbed onto the roots, and pulled. It didn’t even hurt. Nothing to distract you from your situation.

What to do. What to do. Well, hiding there was doing nothing good. Maybe you could search for a way out. Or find the owner and tell them what had happened.

There was no way you were going through the dooring up the stairs. You wanted to avoid the villains at all costs. You picked the door on ground level to the right. Book shelves were lined against the wall. There was no dust, but something gave you the feeling they hadn't been used in a long time. No lights, but strangely lit like the room before. You walked through the next door. A bedroom. The bed was sloppily made. Maybe it was the lack of people, but something unsettled you. Nothing felt quite right. But perhaps this was reasonable considering nothing else about the mansion was normal.

You reached for the knob of yet another door when you heard footsteps on the other side. That was your chance. You should have seen who it was, if they could have helped you. But there had been almost no real sign of anyone being in the mansion up until then. Even with the used bed, what if the villains had found another way downstairs? What if they were about to catch you?

You turned and made a dash. Through every door you'd been through so far. You should have just hid under the bed, but you didn't think of it at the time. You just wanted to get as far as you could.

When you got back to the entrance, your heart dropped in horror when you saw the villains emerging from the doors at the top of the stairs. They hastily ran out of it and firmly closed it behind them.

"Who is that!?" The louder of the two said.

Blood pounded in your ears. You didn’t stop. You were already opening the door in the left room and pulled the door shut behind you, still running.

How did they get there? Were they actually following you? Was it someone else you had run from? Was any of this even real?

You lost track of how many rooms you had run into. This one was hardly any different from the others. Same dark red wallpaper. There was a wardrobe, but did that really make a difference? You stopped in front of a window. Black. The moment you stopped was the moment your exhaustion hit you. Your legs and chest ached. You glanced at the door quickly then stared at the window.

Was this real? Was this all some sick dream?

You opened up the window.

If this was a dream and you fell, you would wake up.

You leaned out, placing your hands on the farm and beginning to lift a knee. The whole time you just stared into the nothingness.

"Woah, that's not a good idea," a cheerful voice behind you said, pulling you back by your waist.

Your back hit the stranger's chest. You twisted your head back to see who it was. His blond hair was long enough to reach his stubble covered jawline. He looked to be in his twenties, and was familiar for some reason. None of the villains, fortunately.

You breathed a much needed, heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness you're not them."

“Nope, I’m Kaminari. Kaminari Denki. Wow! It’s been forever since I’ve talked with someone new. Hi, I’m Denki. Oops I already said that.”

You raised an eyebrow at his behavior. He held you a little too tightly. It was then you noticed you were too close together, with his crotch against your rump. You, embarrassed, gently pushed him away and he let go.

“Nice to meet you too. Kaminari? That sounds familiar.”

“Maybe you heard of me from the U.A. Sports Festival?”

“U.A…? Wait! Chargebolt? One of the U.A. students that went missing two years ago!??”

“The one and only.” He puffed his chest out.

“But.. what? That’s not possible. You look like you’re twenty-five or something.”

“You’re right, I am! It’s been so long since I had someone else to talk to! Did I already say that?”

He held your hand and pulled it close to him. Electricity sparked, going straight into your hand and making you jump.

“Sorry.” He smiled with concern in his eyes. “I have a little bit of a hard time controlling it now. Especially when I’m this excited.” His other hand reached towards you.

You stepped back and pulled your hand away. “Don’t touch me, please.”

He tilted his head, like he didn’t understand. But he didn’t come any closer.

"By the way, who were you talking about earlier? I’m not who?"

"Villains! They came in here after I ran in to hide from them."

“Really? What did they look like?”

“Twice and Mr. Compress. Twice has a black and gray suit, and Mr. Compress has a top hat, a mask, and a yellow jacket. Did you see them?”

“Yeah, I did. Actually, I saw them coming this way.” He pointed towards the door he had just come from.

“What!? Oh no…” your head whipped around, eyes scanning everywhere for a place to hide.

“I know a place to hide! In here.” Kaminari opened the wardrobe.

He quickly stepped in and moved to make room for you. You slid the hanging coats and clothing to one side and closed the door with just a small crack to see. It was too cramped for you. It was uncomfortably warm, but you would take it.

Your heart pounded in your ears. It was hard to see anything in the room with the small slit. Even then, you prayed they wouldn’t see you through the crack. If they did, you’d be finished with nowhere to run.

His fingers were against your waist, something you hardly even noticed because of the adrenaline. But they began rubbing circles into you, small tingles of electricity tickled you. One slipped down to the dip where your legs attached to the rest of your body. He pressed against your butt, at first you assumed it was simply him adjusting and the lack of room, but he didn't move. In fact, he pushed himself flush against you. You felt something warm and hard between your cheeks through the fabric of yours and his pants. If you tried to back away, the wardrobe door would open more, and the villains might come in any time.

"Please stop," you whispered.

He didn’t stop. He rubbed his head against the back of yours. He breathed in contently.

His hand rubbing you fell to your hip, then up again, into your shirt. You felt him drag against your soft skin. Reaching up to your bra. He made a clumsy effort to slip beneath it before squeezing and massaging it with the bra still on. Tiny sparks from his fingertips only drew your attention to this. You jolted when one ran over your nipple.

"Hey," you tried to sound angry, but it came out as a whine.

Much to your dismay, you felt your core growing unbearably warm. You wanted to stop him, but you froze. Your breaths were heavy. It didn’t help when he dipped his hand into your pants. Electricity somehow teased your clit through your panties. You barely held the moan in your throat.

"We can't be doing this," you said as a final attempt, "What if they hear?"

His lips fluttered against your skin. "Who will hear?"

"What do you mean? The villains… they are…" Did he actually see them coming?

He chuckled and ran a finger against your waistband. "We're gonna have some fun."

Next

#kinktober #kinktober 2021 #kaminari x reader #denki x reader #kaminari denki x reader #denki x reader smut #smut #tw:noncon #I finally got it done

[phykios]

honesty and promise me part 9, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

He doesn’t text her later. He doesn’t text her for two weeks. On day fifteen of no contact from Percy, Annabeth begins to accept that whatever they had might be over now. 

That’s alright, she reminds herself. She had been working up to breaking it off with him for a while, and he just went ahead and did it for her. Saves her the trouble, really. 

October rolls on, wet and cold, inching ever closer to Halloween, and Annabeth finds herself seeking refuge at Piper’s, lending her body and her skills to help her friend finish her collection before her self-imposed deadline. At least the work provides a nice distraction from her silent phone--when Percy stopped texting her, Thalia did, too. Well. That’s that, she supposes.

Still, the fact that they were never officially dating doesn’t stop Annabeth from scrolling through his Instagram at 2 AM like some pathetic ex-girlfriend, screenshotting all her favorite photos so she can look at them later without the threat of accidentally liking them. He’s been posting a lot of stills from that fucking music video again, the divinely crafted muscles of his body on full display in cool, blue light, brown cheekbone and jawline sharper than ever. Beyonce herself even liked a few of them. 

God damn she’s a fucking idiot. 

It must be the self-pity that’s making her crazy, because when Luke calls her up to be his date/eye candy to some fancy semi-costumed party that weekend at an art gallery on the Lower East Side, she agrees without even thinking about it.

The gallery isn’t that far (certainly much, much closer than the Lincoln Center) but Annabeth has not worn heels in probably up to a calendar year, and she just cannot make herself walk that far. She will not. Her tiny-ass cross-body bag isn’t big enough to hold a separate pair of walking shoes. So she ponies up the exorbitant cab fare to the Lower East Side, asking the driver to drop her at the Seward Park Library so she can elegantly sashay down the sidewalk with the rest of the rich and glamorous. 

No one spares her a second glance, which is both relieving and strangely disheartening. She’s become too used to turning heads, she thinks.

Well. One head in particular.

“Hey, Annabeth!” Luke appears from thin air, dressed immaculately as always. His sandy hair has come a long way since business school, now tamed and laid perfectly, but with the faintest touch of dishevelment, like he couldn’t completely fix it after someone’s hands had been all over it. He looks even more handsome than he had on her birthday. He kisses her on the cheek, right on the sensitive skin of an old, failed piercing, and she shivers. “You look incredible.” 

Before she left Piper’s apartment that day, Annabeth had raided her small stash of designer clothes and had rediscovered her old faithful that Piper had tried to bury, the midi-length Valentino dress she had worn to the unveiling of her and Leo’s collaboration. It’s a light, powder blue, which can’t be helped, but the lace collar and three-quarter sleeves cover most of her tattoos. She had dug out her tiara, too, making herself a low-key Halloween costume out of the spring season dress. Though the dress doesn’t fit like it did a year ago, Which is depressing as all hell. “Thanks. You, too.”

He beams at her, holding out his arm. “Shall we?”

“Who did you say was the artist, again?” she asks, taking it.

“I didn’t. Something with an ‘L,’ I think. Levelle? Levique? I don’t remember.”

The white gallery walls have been draped in shades of inky blue and midnight purple, all the better to see the crystal sculptures on display: beautiful renderings of swords and skulls, deadly weapons and human bones. There’s something mind-numbingly obvious about holding a spooky, macabre-themed gallery show on Halloween night, entitled “Death and Riches,” but she has to admit, the artwork is stunning. The crystals take what little light is cast from the weak ceiling lamps and multiply it, casting the dark velvets in rainbow reflections. Annabeth feels like she’s walking through the night sky, like she could reach out and rearrange the stars in the constellations. “Look at this,” she murmurs to Luke, stopping them in front of a sculpture of an ancient cavalry sword. “This is incredible.”

He grunts. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

Annabeth fixes him with a look. “‘Cool’? Seriously?”

“What? It’s just a rock.”

She shakes her head. “You are wasted on an art gallery.”

“I am,” he agrees, swiftly. “I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my bosses.”

“What do you mean?”

Luke steers her away from the sculpture, moving them onward. “One of our assistant executives, he’s about to close a huge deal with some big wig from Europe who runs this massive import/export, but before everything is made official, he wanted to meet all of us.”

“Why here, though?”

“He’s in town for this gallery opening; the artist is his niece, or something.”

Ugh. This is why she swore off business bros: always an ulterior motive with these people. “Hey, I’m going to go look for something to drink, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” he waves her off.

Annabeth, teetering on her towering heels, has to make her way against the current of the crowd towards the refreshments table along the edge of the wall. She feels ten pounds lighter without all the metal in her face, her center of gravity completely out of whack--not to mention she’s having trouble seeing with all this hair in her face. To better disguise her undercut, she had brushed all her hair over her head in one big, voluminous side ponytail on the wrong side of her face. It’s disorienting, to say the least.

Her stomach roils at the display of food, even as her mouth waters a little bit at the bruschetta with olive tapenade. Rather than risk it, she decides to just go with a glass of sparkling cider. She’s been feeling sick and anxious all day long, dreading every moment of this gala; the last thing she wants to do is exacerbate it with champagne. 

Before she makes her way back to Luke’s side, however, she wants to take another look at the actual art. Or at least find out who the actual artist is. Whoever they are, they are phenomenally talented. 

“Excuse me,” Annabeth says to the staff member manning the food table. “Do you have any more information about the artist? I’d love to see more of their work.”

“Sure!” she chirps, turning round to grab something off a stack of pamphlets beside her. “You can read more about Ms. Levesque here.”

“Thank you,” says Annabeth, taking the glossy brochure. Levesque. Levesque Levesque Levesque. She knows that name, she’s sure of it. Penny in the air… 

Slowly, like she’s walking a labyrinth, she makes her way around the gallery. The booklet has descriptions of each piece of art on display, contexts and histories and prices that make her sweat a little. But by the time she returns to the cavalry sword, her head is swimming--probably from the lack of food--her eyes straining in the dim light. She has completely lost track of Luke. She has completely lost track of the time. Annabeth puts her hand to her head, pressing her fingers against the bone of her forehead.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She jolts at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. The owner of the hand pulls away immediately, holding it up in a placating motion. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Annabeth blinks at the person in front of her. He’s blond, tall, with glasses and a scar on his upper lip, and she cannot shake the bone-deep feeling that she’s seen him before. 

“You look a little pale. Do you need to sit down?” he asks, electric blue eyes shining with concern. 

She shakes her head. “No, no, I’m okay, just a little… the light, you know. Makes it hard to read.”

“I know how you feel,” he says, nodding sagely. “The lighting setup here is absolute murder on my glasses.” Then he sticks out his hand, proud and jutting. “I’m Jason.”

Furiously, she blinks away unbidden tears, turning her sudden sob into a light laugh at the thought of the last time she had met someone named Jason. Or, someone she thought had been named Jason. “Annabeth.” His grip is firm and congenial, like a senator. “Are you with Mercury Exchange, too?”

“Oh, no,” he says, “I’m just here to support the artist. She’s my cousin.”

“Well, congratulations to your cousin on a beautiful gallery opening,” says Annabeth, inclining her head with a smile that he returns. “These sculptures are incredible.”

Jason follows her gaze, and when she looks at him again, he’s smiling. The scar gives his smile an adorable edge. “Hazel is very talented.”

Penny drops. “Hazel Levesque?” Annabeth asks. “Your cousin is Hazel Levesque?” 

“Yeah!” Jason beams. “You ever listen to a band called Pluto’s Daughter?”

“You’re Jason Grace?”

That takes him aback, blinking in shock. “Yes… how did you--oh, you know Thalia?” he asks.

No. No no no, this cannot be happening. “Um, not-not really, I just--”

“I just saw her, like, ten minutes ago--”

No no no, she cannot be here, she can’t see Annabeth, not like this-- “Actually,” Annabeth cuts in, “I should really get back to my date, I’m sure he’s worried sick, it was nice meeting you!” And she bolts from the conversation in the general direction of the exit, leaving a very confused member of the cousin consortium in her wake. 

Stupid, so stupid, how did she not look this up beforehand, how did she not put it together sooner? She can’t let anyone see her like this, dolled up and--and downright clean. The crowd has turned into an impenetrable wall, the gaps between patrons too small for her to slip between. The dark walls close in around her, suffocating her, and her panic rises, stomach churning, bile crawling up her throat.

From the crush of people, a hand shoots out to grasp hers, and she jumps a foot in the air. “There you are!” says Luke. “Come on, I want you to meet the big wig.”

“Oh, Luke, I don’t know,” she stammers, “I’m-I’m not feeling very well, I think I had a bad burrito earlier, and--”

“It’ll just take a minute,” he wheedles, “We just gotta show up, make some small talk for a few minutes, then I’ll get you home. Sounds good?” But she can’t resist as he pulls her deeper into the gallery.

Like fucking Moses and the fucking Red Sea, the crowd parts before them, laying out a clear path to the three very well dressed men in the center of the room. Even from behind, she can tell that they’re all related: three copies of the same broad build, the same thick, black hair, peppered with grey, the same radiating aura of power and influence, engaged in deep, important conversation. 

“Mr. Olympianides?” Luke politely interjects. 

As one, the three of them turn to face him, identical gazes sizing them up, pinning them in place. “Yes?” intones the oldest-looking one, his earth-brown eyes cold and dispassionate. 

“I think he means me, brother,” says the middle-looking one, jovial. “You’re with Mercury too, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yes, sir,” says Luke, holding out a hand. “Luke Castellan, it’s an honor to meet you.”

“Ah, of course!” he says, taking Luke’s hand. “I’ve heard great things about you from Prometheus. I understand I have you to thank for the success of the Saturn deal?”

Luke, wholly in his element, smiles his perfectly practiced sycophantic smile--just the right cocktail of humble and arrogant, gracious and gregarious. You can tell he double majored in theater. “It was no trouble at all, really.” 

Then he turns his gaze to Annabeth, and she just about faints. 

Those eyes. She knows those eyes. Perfectly blue-green, like the waters of the Mediterranean in the sunshine, beneath thick, black eyebrows, with an aquiline nose and a full, salt and pepper beard--she is, without a doubt, looking into the unimaginably handsome face of Percy’s father. 

“May I have the name of your lovely lady?” He takes her hand, bringing it up to his for a kiss. 

Annabeth’s eyes practically bug out of her head. This is what Percy will turn into in twenty years? Good lord.

“This is my…” Luke trails off, sparing her a glance. “This is Annabeth Chase. She’s an architect here in New York. Annabeth, these are the gentlemen I was telling you about: Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus Olympianides.”

Oddly enough, part of her relaxes, even at Luke’s little fib. If Percy’s father is here, then that means that Percy might not be. She would still have to duck Thalia, but if Luke lets her leave within the next few minutes, that shouldn’t be too hard.

“Chase--like the Boston Chases?” the oldest brother asks. She’s seen those dark eyes, as well, lined with black, and sometimes with glitter. 

Annabeth smiles, just a little vacant. She hasn’t had a conversation like this in two years, but back in Boston she’d had them nearly weekly. “That’s the one,” she agrees, letting a giggle out at the end. With business bros her age, they preferred a little bit of a too cool attitude, they’d loved her with all the metal in her face. But the older ones like a giggle. From the corner of her vision, she sees Luke give her just a little bit of a side eye. 

“You’re Randolph’s daughter?” Asks the other brother. His eyes are electric blue. Even if Annabeth hadn’t just met Jason, she’d have known this was Thalia’s father from twenty paces. 

“I’m his niece,” Annabeth says. “Frederick is my father.”

“The middle one?” Percy’s father says, with a little bit of a grin. 

“Yes.” So far, so good--and no one has asked about her mother. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to see that she is not her stepmother’s daughter.

There’s maybe the slightest hint of snideness when Zeus says, “Another Harvard graduate, I assume.”

So there are a lot of Chases at Harvard. On a whim, one night while she should have been writing her Modernism final instead, Annabeth had spent several hours making an academic genealogical chart, inordinately pleased when she found out that her old, decrepit freshman history professor had also taught her father, way back in the day. 

“Guilty,” she titters, “but I did attend Miss Minerva’s here in the city.”

“So your Randolph’s niece,” Thalia’s dad asks again, “And Frey Vanir is married to your aunt.”

“Yes.” She bites down on the “sir.” She’s got to have some standards. 

“Good families,” Nico and Hazel’s father says, nodding at her, “Chases and Vanir.” 

Annabeth has some very, very hazy memories of meeting her own fabulously wealthy extended family, just after her little cousin Magnus had been born. She doesn’t recall much, but she can remember the high, vaulted ceilings of her aunt’s apartment on Commonwealth Avenue, the view of the Public Gardens just down the block, and the very big, very sharp-looking sword hanging above the mantel. The Chases are a well-off family, it’s true, but the Vanir, old money from leftover Nordic peerage are very much on the Olympianides' level, even if Annabeth is the one wearing a tiara that allegedly once belonged to the crown jewels of Sweden. 

Athena Pallas is on that same level, too, but Annabeth would rather run into Thalia then talk about her mother. Especially with these people.

Then Poseidon’s gaze fixes on something behind her, and he breaks into a broad, heartbreakingly familiar grin. “Ah, Percy, there you are!” he calls. 

The smile drops from her face, and her blood freezes. Caught in the gravity well of a black hole, she turns. 

A huge mistake. 

Her only thought is How dare he be so handsome.

He��s in a suit she’s never seen before, crisply pressed, but comfortable, simple black but with pearl cuff links, to match his father’s. The sharp lines of the suit hide his beautiful form beneath them in a way that makes Annabeth understand the appeal of lingerie like she never has before. He looms, back discipline-straight, his face scrubbed clean and eyebrows perfectly shaped, and to cap it all off, a pair of simple, classy diamond studs in his ears. Percy Jackson remains, as always, unfairly gorgeous, the perfect specimen of male beauty, and Annabeth is powerless under his gaze.

And he’s just heard every word of their conversation.

“Percy,” his father says, “have you met Annabeth Chase?”

Percy stares at her, mouth open a little. She watches those eyes take her in from top to bottom, hairstyle to clean face to conservative dress to high heels. Never, ever one to hide his emotions, she can see his inner monologue playing out on his face: shock and awe, bewilderment and confusion, jerkily transitioning to… to a politely blank face. Like the surface of the ocean, the wave of his feelings disappear beneath his skin, leaving no trace that they were ever there. “No,” he says, in a tone that broaches no argument. “No, I don’t believe I’ve ever met Annabeth Chase before.”

He takes her in again. Percy was never above leering, but he was always pretty situational about it. He would wait until sex was explicitly on the table, wait until she wanted to see him go just a little bit crazy for her. He doesn’t leer now, cataloguing the dress, the shoes, the tiara.

“Cinderella?” he asks, before the conversation can become awkward and their audience can notice something else.

“Yes,” she says, unable to force the smile she’d used on his father just minutes before. “What girl doesn’t want to be a princess for Halloween?”

“Cinderella was always your favorite, wasn’t she?” Percy’s father asks him. Then he laughs. “Once we went to Disney in Paris, I think, and Percy, all of ten years old, cried because he didn’t think he was going to be able to meet her.” 

Percy’s face stays blank. “I was six, Dad.” 

Annabeth winces, internally. That was the year, he’d told her, that he’d spent in shoes that didn’t fit because his new ones had been destroyed by bullies taunting him over ballet, and he didn’t want to tell his mother because trying to buy him a second pair of shoes would have been a struggle. She wonders if maybe he was crying because he’d spent the day walking around Disneyland in shoes two sizes too small, and no one had noticed.

His father laughs again. “Still,” he says, “Cinderella is your favorite.” 

“I don’t have much use for princesses anymore,” Percy says. “Fairy tales and true love are kid stuff.”

His uncles laugh along with his father, and Luke just frowns at Percy, like he’s not sure what to make of him. But his family seems convinced it's the wisdom of youth.

“Oh,” says Poseidon, “You never know when you can find someone special.” He does leer at Annabeth, just a bit. There isn’t a lot to leer at in this dress, but it's unmistakable. He’s very handsome, but the leer is perhaps the first time she’s thought he didn’t favor his son. 

“Were you the one who dated the princess of what it was called?” Thalia’s father asks. “Or was Triton? Or was it both of you?” 

“No,” Hazel and Nico’s father says, “no, they both dated Atlas’s girl. Right?”

“Yes, Uncle Hades,” Percy says. 

“Zoe?” 

Calypso, Annabeth thinks, just before Percy says it out loud and they all nod. 

“Is she here?” Thalia’s father asks, glancing around. “Or do you have a different date tonight?”

Annabeth hasn’t even considered Percy having a date. But the idea of it causes a wave of nausea to come over her, of a beautiful woman on Percy’s arm, one of his fellow dancers, or perhaps some heiress, who he could take to fancy parties and show off to his father and uncles.

That could have so easily been you, says a voice in the back of her head. 

I’m no one’s arm candy, she wants to yell at herself. 

But she can’t, because she’s literally resting on Luke’s arm, while three powerful businessmen ogle her. 

She breathes through her nose, and tries to keep from throwing up. Or crying. 

“Percy knows its best to come to events like this stag,” Percy’s father winks at him, and then unmistakably at her, “you never know what sorts of lovely creatures you might run into.” 

Percy frowns, clearly uncomfortable. “I think Miss Chase definitely came with her boyfriend.” He nods to Luke, and gives him a smile Annabeth has never seen. So forced and fake and clearly unhappy. 

She wishes she could stop everything and scream at Percy that Luke’s not her boyfriend. That he could never be. That she does not want Luke, not the way she wants Percy. 

But time goes on, and so does Percy. “I don’t like coming to these sorts of things alone, if I can help it.” 

And the world nearly collapses out from under her feet. 

“The buddy system is important.” He turns his head, clearly searching the milling crowd for someone. Annabeth doesn’t follow his gaze. She doesn’t want to see the woman he willingly shows off to his father. She glances at Luke instead. His face is still placid, but she’s known him a long time, in all sorts of states. He’s clearly uncomfortable. 

“Thalia,” Percy’s voice says, not a shout, but a request. Annabeth doesn’t look over at him, or the direction he shouted, but Luke does. He breaks away from her gaze and actually unlinks their arms. His mask slips a little bit more. 

At the last possible second Annabeth looks over too. 

Thalia Grace looks exactly like the Thalia Annabeth has always known. Her hair is slicked down in some old fashioned pin curls, and she’s wearing a cocktail dress and red soled heels that are too big for her, but you can see the tattoos up and down her arms and legs, underneath her ripped fishnets. Her facial piercings are all still in, and her eyebrows and ears are full of safety pins and the necklace around her neck is made of them too. She’s wearing the same beat up leather gloves as always. 

For just a second, Annabeth hates her. Because Thalia is clearly so Thalia, so comfortable in being Thalia, and she can walk around this fucking gala, with buisness bros and old money, and look totally comfortable and confident. 

And Annabeth keeps adjusting her sleeves and hair, worried that somethings going to move wrong, and it's going to become obvious that she’s… something? 

Then their eyes meet, and it's almost as bad as when Percy showed up. Thalia looks lost, and then she glances to Annabeth’s side, at Luke and her face settles into a frown not unlike Percy’s. 

She stops beside Percy who smiles at her, “Thalia and I always use the buddy system.” He says. Then, as he holds out his hand to her, his smile becomes the closest she could ever refer to as cruel. “Thalia, have you met Annabeth Chase? Of the Boston Chases? Her uncle is Frey Vanir.” 

Standing tall, bright eyes ringed in black, Thalia takes in all of Annabeth. She’s done this before, when Annabeth was drunk and crying on a dirty bar floor, with a couple hours old tattoo on her arm and a couple of days old ring in her eyebrow. Annabeth had seen her mother on Wednesday for lunch and had destroyed her life by dinner. She doesn’t really remember what they’d talked about, in the wee hours as Friday became Saturday: not being good enough for your family, how New York took your dreams, chewed them up, and spit them out, how your father would never understand you and your mother would never love you. That sort of thing.

She’d been a gross, pathetic mess. But Thalia had seen something in her that night. Had lifted her off the floor and out the door and eventually onto the mattress in the place she’d been renting weekly at the time. She’d taken Annabeth into her world.

Now, it doesn’t look like she sees anything good in Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases, in designer heels, with a designer bag, wrapped in a designer dress and dripping in jewels. Annabeth knows she looks like a dozen other girls at this event, girls that Luke’s (and maybe Thalia’s and, God, maybe even Percy’s) eyes have wandered over with interest. 

“Miss Chase, despite being from Boston,” Percy says to Thalia, “was mentioning some of the schools she went to in New York. I thought maybe you might have known each other through one.” 

Percy’s face has gone perfectly blank, but Thalia’s… Thalia’s is angry. 

“No,” she says, “we did not go to school together. But Luke and I did.”

It’s Annabeth’s turn to gape, eyes wide as she turns to him, shocked. 

Luke tries to smile. “Yes, we did, but--” 

Thalia doesn’t let him finish. “Are you still sending weekly audition tapes to Lorne Michaels?” she asks, a snarl that only an idiot would mistake for a grin on her face. 

Annabeth would laugh, if she felt like laughing at anything right now.

Luke tries to speak again, but Thalia talks right over him. “No, of course not. You’re doing some business thing.” She eyes his suit and then her three older relatives. “Why else would we be here? I know you never really had the brains for the arts. You were always more interested in the carnal passions of acting.” 

Annabeth actually does laugh, just a bit, both because that’s clearly something Luke had once said (and Annabeth remembered him coming straight out of NYU, a Yankee transplant to Boston, she could totally believe it) and because Thalia got Luke’s cadence and tone down perfectly. 

But it does nothing to relieve the tension. If anything, it's gone up. 

Percy’s father forces his own laugh. “It is so much fun when you run into old friends like this.” He offers, clearly sensing the storm brewing. Percy has at least tried to force it down. “And it's good to see you, as well, Thalia. It's been a long time.” 

“It has, Uncle Poseidon,” She agrees. 

“Mr. Castellan has left the world of acting for our bland business and finance meetings, but are you still acting?”

Thalia goes very still. 

Annabeth, in the two years she’s known Thalia Grace, has never even once heard her so much as allude to acting in anything. She set up equipment and tended bars for cash. The only acting she ever did was pretending not to be hungover. 

It’s a slight movement, but she sees Thalia reach out and grip Percy’s arm. He meets it, holding on. Steadying. 

He understands what’s going on here.

“She’s not,” Thalia’s father says. He’s been polite so far this evening, but now he sounds annoyed. “All that talent and all that promise, and she’s thrown it all away.” He looks at Thalia, electric eyes to electric eyes, and shakes his head. “You could have been just like your mother.” 

Percy, Luke, and Hades all let out a sharp breath. 

Thalia’s smile, sharp, turns acidic. “I can't be,” she says. “I don't drive. So I couldn't drive myself into a tree.”

Her father narrows his gaze, mouth tight. Annabeth has actually seen that look on Thalia’s face before. Poseidon looks suddenly very sorry he ever opened his mouth. 

Thalia turns to Percy. “Do you think Hazel would mind if I committed a murder and ruined her big night?” 

It's a very Thalia thing to say, but Annabeth has never really considered the theatricality of her before. This is an artist working her craft, taking words and turning them into daggers.

“Hazel loves performance art,” Percy says. “And it is on theme.” 

Thalia nods and then looks at her father. She smiles. “That sounds like a lot of work, so, instead, why don’t I do just what you want. I’ll be my mother. I’ll go get fabulously drunk and embarrass you horribly. Unfortunately, this is a 21+ event, so I won’t be able to endanger any children in the process. But you never know.”   

She spins on her heels, and walks away. 

“I'm going to make sure she doesn’t enganger any children just to prove a point,” Percy says. “I'll see you later.” He nods to his family, and then offers Annabeth a very formal handshake. “So nice to meet you.” 

She’s missed his hands on her. She doesn’t want to let go. 

But she lets him, and he moves over to give Luke one, too. He leans in, just a little bit, and lowers his voice so only Luke and Annabeth can hear. “You shouldn’t make a scene in a public place. But you deserve to know, she’s been cheating on you since May.”

Annabeth can’t breathe for a moment. The perfect man, handsome and charming and crueler than she ever believed possible.   

Her stomach rolls again. 

Behind her, she hears Poseidon say, “Do you often tell women whose mothers’ acting career dried up and then descended into substance abuse that you hope they have the same career as said mothers? Because wow."

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispers. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m very sorry.” 

He turns to speak with the three brothers, to formally and probably seamlessly untangle themselves from all of this, and she tries to turn too, but the effort to spin gets too much. 

She’s still nauseous, feeling light-headed. The stiletto heels only add to the problem. She shakes and stumbles, right into Luke, who catches her on one arm, Poseidon on the other. Annabeth has to work very hard not to yank herself away from him. 

“Are you alright?” Poseidon’s accent isn’t the same as Percy’s at all, his hands too smooth. There are differences between the two that she can focus on. 

“I haven’t been feeling well tonight,” she admits, if it will get her out of here faster. 

“Do you need to sit down?” Asks Poseidon. “I’m sure there is a medical professional around here.” 

“No, no, thank you,” she says. “I should probably head out, If that’s okay,” she tells Luke, apologetically.

He nods, finally complying with her need for escape. “Of course.” 

When Poseidon lets go of her arm, she basically falls into Luke. It's embarrassing. Her eighteen year old self is probably cheering. Unfortunately for her, that crush was killed two great heartbreaks ago. Now, it’s just quiet and awkward as they walk away. “Sorry,” she says. 

“Sorry? I should be thanking you. That was a really good excuse.” Then he looks at her--really looks. “It wasn’t an excuse, was it?”

She shakes her head, miserable. 

“Is it because of that guy? Percy? Do you know him?”

She nods.

“Why does he think you’ve been cheating on me since May?”

“Because he thinks you and I are a couple, and I’ve been sleeping with him since May.” 

Luke lets out a low whistle. “You and those business bros.” He shakes his head. Sometimes he doesn’t quite have the self-awareness that he should, she thinks. “I blame myself. If I didn’t invite you to that MBA party, maybe you wouldn’t have lost your virginity to that asshole in my cohort.” 

“Percy’s not a business bro,” she says, defending him, though for the life of her she doesn’t know why. “He’s a ballet dancer with NYCB. It… ended about 3 weeks ago. I’d tell you about it, but I do actually feel pretty horrible.”

Luke frowns at her. “You want me to get you a cab?”

Annabeth shakes her head. “I know you have more business bro things to do. I can get myself home.”

He waits several seconds, before giving her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, wishing her goodnight, leaving her in the middle of the mingling crowd and the crystal displays. 

Annabeth shuffles towards the exit, passing the food table. Even the smell makes her feel like she’s going to throw up. Walking faster doesn’t exactly help. 

Eventually, she manages to get out of the main gallery, where the lobby and coat check had been set up, very much regretting letting Luke go. Right now, walking outside and finding a cab might as well be like attempting a quick little jaunt up Mt. Everest. Head aching, stomach rolling, she slumps against the wall outside the coat check, laying her warm cheek against the cool wall. 

That’s when she hears the muffled shouting. 

Two voices she knows intimately. 

“How can you say that?” Thalia whisper-screams. “In what possible universe are they the same?”

“How are they not?” Percy quietly shouts back. “They’re exactly the same.”

“I can’t even believe you’re defending her. She lied to us--she hurt you, just like--”

“Don’t you dare try and tell me you’re doing this for me. This is about you and your problems. Like always.”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit.” Then comes the telltale clacks of Thalia stomping about in her high heels. She flings open the door of the coat closet, and comes face to face with Annabeth--who probably looks about like death warmed over. Thalia takes one look at Annabeth, sneers, then stalks away, anger sparking off of her like static shock. 

Hot on her heels comes Percy, equally furious. "Then find someone else’s couch to crash on tonight!" He shouts at her retreating form.

Then he sees Annabeth.

She hopes she never has to see him that angry ever again. 

It takes a couple of pounding heartbeats, but he visibly dials it back down, rage giving way to something a little less intense, the bitterness bleeding out of him until he’s only just annoyed. “Oh,” he says. “It’s you.”

There’s a million and one things she wants to tell him; her mind is a hurricane, every thought and feeling moving at a hundred and fifty miles per hour, sentences forming on her tongue in one second and ripped away the next. She wants to tell him that she never meant to hurt him, but all that comes out is, “Luke isn’t my boyfriend.”

“What, he dump you already?”

“We’ve never dated,” she says. “He’s just a friend. I haven’t cheated on anyone.”

“Oh, so you’ll get all dolled up for some guy that isn’t your boyfriend, but you couldn’t be bothered to find a pair of jeans without holes in them to come see my show?”

Her stomach lurches, in both anger and regret. She did do those things. “You told me that you didn’t care what I wore.”

“And I didn’t, because I thought you didn’t either.”

“I don’t!”

“Oh yeah? Is that why you parted your hair on the wrong side? Because you didn’t care if someone would see your undercut?”

She can’t say anything to that, because of course, he had hit the nail on the head. 

“I mean, Thalia may be messed up, but at least she has the guts not to hide it, but you--” he sputters, gesturing angrily to her head, “you put on a tiara and pretend you haven’t been gutter trash for the last two years.”

Indignation rises in her. Gutter trash? “You’re one to talk--you can’t go anywhere nicer than Antonio’s for dinner but you own a custom fucking Italian suit and diamond earrings?”

He scowls. “Oh, I'm sorry, just so we're clear, Kym got me this suit so I would stop, and I quote, 'embarrassing her with my poverty.' I borrowed the earrings from Nico. But you're right. The same Christmas I had my power and heat turned off in Paris, my dad got me these pearl cufflinks.” He raises his hands, brandishing them. “Just what I always wanted!”

“Don’t give me that--the man takes you, his bastard,” she spits, “on the family vacation to the Greek islands every goddamn summer! You think he wouldn’t drop a couple million for you if you asked? Meanwhile, I had to grovel at my mother’s feet for years for even the barest hint of support--”

“That is not even remotely the same thing, and you know it!”

“It isn’t?” She laughs, cruelly. “Because from where I’m standing, we were both left at the mercy of our shitty parents, but you’re too much of a coward to tell your father to fuck off when you really want to.”

That just about sets him off. His eyes darken like sea storms, raging and thunderous. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me. You’re the one that lied to me for months, to Thalia for years--Jesus, Annabeth, was any of it real? Was everything you said to me over the last five months just some game to you?”

“How dare you,” she hisses. “How dare you even ask me that when you know full well you’re the only person I’ve shown my designs to in years.”

“Oh, really,” he says, and she goes cold. “What about the one that won the Eta Industries award? Did you not show that to anyone? Or did you get that one because they knew you were Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases.” 

Clenching her fists, she growls, standing up against the wall. “Leo and I put our hearts and souls into that project, and we won, fair and fucking square. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, seeing as you probably only got into NYCB because someone cashed a seven figure check.” 

She doesn’t know if she’s ever said anything she believes less. 

Percy laughs, an ugly, bitter thing. “If it had been that easy, I would have asked him to do that five years ago.”

Then he frowns. “Are you… feeling okay?”

She is not, as a matter of fact, but it’s no longer his fucking business, now is it. Annabeth opens her mouth to tell him so, then abruptly closes it as a little bit of vomit erupts from her esophagus. She covers her mouth, pressing against her teeth, trying to will it back inside. 

Warm hands encircle her shoulders, holding her up as her legs threaten to buckle beneath her. “Come on,” he says, gruffly. 

Together, they stagger into the single-stall bathroom, when Annabeth rips himself from his grasp, dropping to her knees before the toilet, and hurls. Faintly, she hears the lock of the door click behind her, then jumps at the feel of his hand on her back. “Leave me alone,” she spits, hocking bile into the toilet.

He doesn’t answer, only gently repositions her braid behind her shoulder so she doesn’t get any vomit on it. 

She will not admit that his hand on her body is the best she’s felt all day. She will not. 

“Ugh,” she moans, in between bouts of bile. “Fuck me.”

“Jesus, what did you eat?”

Annabeth has barely eaten all day, so it’s mostly sparkling cider and a bit of the olive tapenade from earlier. 

Finally, after several excruciating minutes, it subsides. She feels twenty pounds lighter, like she’s vomited up all of her organs. Now if only she could have barfed up her heart as well. She’s sure Percy can feel how hard it’s beating, just from being around him again. 

When the hell did she let herself get this worked up over a fucking guy, anyway? She hasn’t felt like this since she was nineteen, moping over a missed connection. But she’s not nineteen anymore, she’s a grown woman who doesn’t need anyone taking care of her. She can handle it herself.

“Feeling better?” he asks. 

She coughs, attempting to clear her throat, throwing him a glare over her shoulder. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving you alone like this.” 

“I said,” she growls, fingers tightening around the bowl of the toilet. “Leave me al--” Her genius retort is, sadly, cut off by another bout of vomiting, so forceful that her tiara comes flying clean off. It would have landed straight into the bowl, were it not for Percy and his lightning reflexes, snatching it out of the air before the crown jewels of Sweden landed in a puddle of barf. 

When she comes back to herself, she realizes that she’s crying. 

The second wave passes, and she can breathe again. Her awareness returns to her in pieces, starting with the pinch in her knees from kneeling on the cold, hard floor for too long, then the cool porcelain of the toilet, oddly soothing against her flushed skin. Her mouth tastes like you’d expect, and she spits, trying to clear it in vain. 

“That’s it,” Percy murmurs behind her, rubbing gentle circles on her back. “Just let it out.”

Her chest heaves on a sob, quickly disguising it as a cough. Why won’t this man just leave?

When another five or so minutes pass without any more upchuck, she pulls away from him, practically crawling back until she hits the bathroom wall, the floor pressing up against her bones, and she kicks off her heels. Everything is too cold and too hot, Annabeth practically shaking out of her skin, taking in huge, gulping gasps of air. Faintly, she hears the door open and close, softly and carefully. 

Good. He’s gone. 

Her whole body shudders. Stubborn tears force their way out of her, crawling down her cheeks, mixing with the taste of vomit and lipstick. 

But she can’t wallow in it for too long, because a minute later, Percy comes back, crouching down next to her, offering her a plastic cup of water. “Here.”

She takes a swig, swishing it around her mouth. Staggering to her bare feet, she shambles over to the sink, spitting it out. 

There’s no way Annabeth can avoid looking at herself too closely in the mirror, but she tries, her eyes skating over her smeared mascara and running foundation, taking in her (thankfully) vomit free braid and her bare head. “Where,” she coughs. “Where is my tiara?”

“I got it.” In the mirror’s reflection, Percy holds it up. “Wouldn’t want the crown jewels of England to wind up in the toilet.”

“Sweden,” she says, on reflex.

“What?”

Why can’t she just shut her stupid mouth, for God’s sake-- “They were part of the Swedish crown jewels.”

He stares at her in the reflection, his eyes unfathomable. “I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” She asks, a question to which she really doesn’t want to know the answer.

“How I keep letting this happen.” Percy closes his eyes, shaking his head, raising his chin to the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Like this, all the angles and contours of his stupidly beautiful face are thrown in sharp, brutal relief. He looks thin, somehow, the quiet sadness of his expression carved into the lines of his frown, of his squeezed shut eyes and the grim line of his lips. “I thought I was done with letting rich girls fuck me to make a point.”

Funny, how a simple sentence can feel like a knife in the stomach.

Percy, always so tall, slumps his shoulders, running a hand over his face. In seconds, the sadness is gone, replaced with a blank void of expression. “Will you let me call you a cab to take you home?” He asks, because of course, he’d never leave her alone like this. He’s too fucking good.

Annabeth nods into the mirror. 

He sidles up to her, slinging her arm around his shoulder. In his other hand, he carries her shoes and her tiara, dangling limply from his fingers. For a wild second she wants to turn and kiss him. She’s wanted to do that for weeks. She wants to wipe the tears and vomit off her face, stick back on her tiara, and go back to the party on his arm. They could make a beautiful picture, she thinks, Poseidon Olympianides’ son and Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases. But when she tries to move, maybe to make a big mistake, she sways, unsteady. His grip on her waist tightens, holding her close, but his face is turned stubbornly out. He won’t even look at her.

The cool night air and the smell of city dirt is a welcome balm on her flushed face. In no time at all, Percy has hailed a cab, letting her hang off of him as she falls heavily onto the seat. With the utmost care and precision, he gently places her shoes and her crown on her lap, as controlled and careful as when he puts down a fellow dancer. There is no mistake here, she knows. Their little dance together is over. It feels like the end of one of those romantic movies from the 50s her dad used to love to cry over.

“Take her home, please,” he informs the cab driver, giving him her address, then without even sparing her a glance, he closes the door on her.

But greedy for one last look, Annabeth presses her face to the window as the driver pulls away from the curb. The night is dark and the streetlamps are unhelpful, but she can still see him as he cups his hands to his face, glowing like he holds a little star between his fingers, can see him tilt his head up and exhale, sending cigarette smoke up into the heavens.

#this one's a long boi folks #long and sad #but this is as bad as it gets! we've hit rock bottom! #it's all uphill from here i promise #pjo au #ballet au #percabeth #pjo fic #the rivalry ends here

[doctorthreephds]

Synapses: Part 4

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 6.4k

TW: Death, sickness, blood, violence, typical Criminal Minds stuff, specifically from the episode “Amplification”

Summary: You find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with Spencer as your relationship grows. But, the calm is just before the storm and your job puts you in more danger than you signed up for. 

Masterlist

Taglist: @obsssedwithjustaboutanything​ @green-intervention​ @eevee0722​

Spencer made it easy to fall in love. You had little knowledge of romantic relationships besides a couple of elementary and middle school “relationships” that were barely romantic, just a couple of kids attempting to find their way in the world. Your experience with relationships, in general, had been difficult. Your father was estranged growing up and your mother was loving but constantly busy with work and her duties as a diplomat. She made time for you, though, and in the end, you wish you had made more time for her. 

Death is a fickle thing, it is the only thing that makes life worth living, and yet even as a forensic scientist, you wanted to figure out how to evade it. When your mother died, your relationship with death was complicated because you felt cheated. That she deserved so many more years of life and that you should have done more to help. You know that in your heart, you feel a deep passion for Spencer, that you want to get to know him and to cherish him as he should be cherished, but death still loomed overhead and it terrified you. So you hold Spencer at an arm’s length. While he had no problem hugging you and holding your hand occasionally, you made sure he remains cordial and platonic with you. Such a task was difficult, though.

Your feet ache as you walk over to the elevator, sniffling in an attempt to calm your runny nose. Spring had officially set in and so had your allergies; it seemed as if all the pollen in the world was coming for your sinuses. Pulling out a tissue to blow your nose, you barely register Spencer standing next to you. 

“I’m going to see Ponyo in theaters tonight, it’s a limited run and they’re playing it in Japanese. You could come with me, I could even simultaneously translate it to you,” he states and you jump slightly in surprise, not having expected him to be there.

“Sounds like fun, but I desperately need Claritin and I wouldn’t want you to miss the screening,” your voice is nasal as you speak, the pressure in your head making it pound with every step you take once you exit the elevator.

“It’s no problem, we can both head home and I’ll just pick you up with my car,” he suggests, and you look over suspiciously.

“You hate driving.”

“But I’d drive for you,” you sigh as the two of you make it out of the building and start toward the metro. “I’d just really like to see it with you, I think you’d enjoy it.”

You huff as the breeze picks up slightly, hitting you with another face full of pollen. Looking over at Spencer, his eyes were bright and full of mischief. He holds onto the strap of his bag as the two of you walk down the stairs and you try your best to read his face. Only pure content and joy, oh how this man has ruined you.

“Fine. Only if you pay for dinner,” you mumble, blowing your nose into another tissue as the train approaches. 

“Of course, it’s my turn anyway,” he states, a satisfied look on his face. The two of you often paid for each other when it came to food, remaining constantly indebted to each other. But this way, you always knew he would come back. Because he owed you.

Getting home was a relief, it truly serves as a place to escape and decompress. After being stuffy all day and having to work through several reports as you reviewed the evidence and possible threats, it had truly been a test of your patience. After taking Claritin and changing into something a little more suited to the weather, Spencer arrives right on time. The rest of the night goes off with a hitch and more often than not do you find yourself looking over at Spencer as his eyes take in every single little detail of the movie. True to his word, the two of you order cheap nachos and pizza from the movie theater and munch on it during the movie. He speaks translations to you in a low whisper, adding intonation and inflection to distinguish between the characters. Spencer never ceases to amaze you and while you love Ponyo, there’s just something so alluring about watching Spencer talk about things that interest him. At the end of the movie, he continues to process and talk about every little detail left to his whim. 

“While Ponyo is essentially a movie about a child’s innocence and familial love, there is an underlying theme that comments on the pollution of our oceans, as seen in the character of Fujimoto who is afraid of humans and constantly criticizes them,” Spencer says as the two of you walk into the foyer. 

“The ramen looked amazing, though. It makes me hungry for some real food,” you state as the smell of popcorn makes you crave even more food.

“Food in film, specifically films directed by Hayao Miyazaki, are a tool to show togetherness and family as well as human nature. The details of the food tell their own story in many of the other movies. We’ll have to check them out if they even come to the theater,” he continues and you smile, shaking your head.

“Or we can just watch them at my apartment. I’ll buy the whole box set and we’ll just have a whole binge,” you tell him as the two of you make it out onto the street, walking back to his car.

“That’s also good too,” he says as you bark out a laugh. “It’s a date.”

While such trivial words shouldn’t insight fear inside of you, it doesn’t stop you from spending the rest of the night thinking about it after Spencer drops you back home. It remains in your mind the next day when you go to work and find your way to the BAU during lunch, only to find that they were called away on a case. So, the rest of the week is spent thinking about the words “it’s a date.” Obviously, he meant a physical date, like the one on a calendar. But what if he wasn’t? He hadn’t been over to your apartment before and you had never gone to his. It was like a platonic line the two of you hadn’t crossed so that your relationship would stay strictly on the down-low. What did it mean that he wanted to come over to your apartment, then? On a so-called “date?” There wasn’t even an actual day you planned to have your movie marathon on, so technically it couldn’t even be considered a date. Just a plan. 

That Friday, you were getting ready to go home and crash on the couch after ordering take out when Penelope texts you.

From Penelope (5:46 PM):

I’m gonna need some reinforcements up here, the team is just getting back.

To Penelope (5:46 PM):

Hard case?

From Penelope (5:47 PM):

Like you can’t even imagine.

Sighing, you get up out of your chair and head to the elevator, going a couple of floors up to the BAU. When you get out, Penelope stands there with a face of anticipation as she sees you walk out. 

“Oh good, they’re almost here. Spencer’s not doing too hot,” she says and you frown, turning to face the elevator.

As if they were summoned, the second elevator opens up to reveal the team in several different states of fatigue and disappointment. Spencer stands in the back, hunched over slightly as he frowns and follows the rest of them out once the doors are fully open. You smile at your dad and pat him on the shoulder as he leans down.

“The gelato place downtown is still open,” he whispers and kisses your cheek before walking into the offices. You walk in front of Spencer and gently bump into him to break him from his stupor. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” you ask and look up at him, seeing the furrow in his brow and the dark circles under his eyes that look even darker. 

“Nothing, I have to work on my reports,” he mumbles and walks past into the offices.

“Why don’t we go get food and you can come back, just to help clear your mind,” you insist, following him as he collapses into his office chair, rubbing his temples to relieve a bit of the stress built up over the past couple days.

“I have too much to work on,” he brushes you off and turns to stare at all the papers stacked up on his desk.

“You can work on them this weekend,” you state and push the spinny chair so that he faces you. “I know something is wrong, we’ve known each other for several months and I can tell when something is bothering you. Now, I’m not going to ask, but I do know that you can complete reports faster than everyone here and that you can take them home. So, I declare today backwards day. Let’s go grab some ice cream.”

You smile your biggest smile in hopes of breaking him out of his spiral and the reference to Ponyo definitely helps. He smiles slightly, although it doesn’t reach his eyes, and shoves a couple of folders into his satchel before standing.

“Lead the way,” you smile at him and loop your arm around his in hopes of helping to keep him grounded. The two of you walk out of the BAU in silence, but you can feel a change in Spencer already. Hunting the worst types of people every single day as a job constantly gets to you, especially when it comes to this team who constantly look at the mind of unidentified subjects to catch them. With your father, he deals with it through good old compartmentalization and expensive alcohol. For Spencer, you would guess it’s not as easy. His mind was endlessly thinking and analyzing so any mistake made would be remembered and replayed. The best you can do is let him know that there’s a world around him other than everything going on in his head. 

After getting on the metro, you engage in simple conversation, telling him about what you’ve had the luxury of working on and the most recent book you had been reading: The Awakening by Kate Chopin. When you see the stop for downtown, you pull him off the train and begin to walk toward your favorite family-owned gelato establishment. 

“Where are we going?” he asks, looking around at the nightlife of D.C.

“It’s a surprise,” you wink and pull him toward a small shop full of freezers filled with gelato. His eyes light up at the sight of the gaudy decorations that are over the top depictions of Florence and Rome. 

“Gelato?”

“It’s backwards day!” you remark and order a medium stracciatella. 

“I’ll get a medium mint chip,” he asks and you reach out hand over your card before Spencer can get to the cashier. 

When the both of you have your gelato in hand, you both slowly meander down the street as you devour into your delicious treat.

“Did you know that the word stracciatella comes from the Italian word ‘stracciare’ and is also the name of the famed soup that is popular in the Lazio region of central Italy? The same technique is applied to the ice cream but instead of chocolate and ice cream, it’s broth and an egg-based mixture. It’s a western variation of the Chinese egg drop soup,” he gets out before spooning some of the gelato into his mouth. You can only smile at him as you admire how beautiful he looks in the dim lighting, rambling on and effectively getting him away from the horrors of the world, even if for a moment. He continues to talk about soup and how often eastern traditions are westernized and taken over, but all you can do is stare at him and think about how head over heels you are for him. 

Perhaps it is love. But your heart is stored in a box away from harm. Its defenses were weakening, though. Every word spoken by Spencer was like a small chisel working away at the precious marble box, artistic and masterful. You love him, yet in your mind, keeping it from him meant keeping him safe. Or, keeping yourself safe.

Quiet weeks are always appreciated at the FBI. Quiet weeks for you meant simple research and few reports, just enough to keep yourself busy. Quiet weeks for the BAU were just simple consultations and writing up all their fieldwork into manageable reports. But, before a tsunami, the ocean always rears its ugly face. 

You knew something was wrong when your director called you before dawn. A shrill noise jerked you from your sleep and you pull your phone to your ear even before checking the caller.

“Agent Montgomery,” you reply groggily, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you check your digital clock.

“There’s a suspected attack, we’re sending an agent to pick you up. The FBI is under strict media blackout rules so do not inform anyone,” Director Chase states. “There’s Cipro for you on arrival.”

Your heart beats out of your chest at the mention of anthrax. You had just started college when the Amerithrax attacks happened, it had been one of the reasons you wanted to become a toxicologist. Never in your life did you ever expect to face an actual anthrax attack head-on. 

Getting ready is a blur, you pull on suitable clothes and meet the other agent when they arrive. During the drive, you are given a very quick debrief. Last night, twenty-five people checked into emergency rooms with black lesions and lung failure after they had all been at the same park after 2 p.m. The strain of anthrax used was weaponized and reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs, odorless and invisible. At the moment, there are eleven dead with the number quickly rising. All remaining patients were moved to a special wing in Walter Reed Hospital with Dr. Linda Kimura from the CDC and her team overseeing the treatment of all victims. You memorize this information and how you would apply your skills, finding any evidence and analyzing it. The thought of working with the BAU is both exciting and terrifying. Your father would be at risk, and so would Spencer. The only peace of mind is the fact that you would be working with them so any harm that comes to them would go through you first. 

Once at the Bureau, you swallow the Cipro dry and take the elevator up to the BAU where several military scientists have gathered and move around the busy offices. Your director approaches you as you enter and glance around at all the chaos.

“Dr. Kimura’s already in the conference room with Agent Jareau and Agent Hotchner. You’ll be accompanying them to any possible active sites to try and gather a sample as well as oversee the response,” he states and you nod, climbing up the stairs and trying not to throw up the pills you just swallowed. Seeing JJ and Hotch helps to ground you a little but your heart still beats quickly.

“Dr. Kimura, it’s nice to meet you,” you smile weakly and shake her hand.

“You too, I just wish it wasn’t under these circumstances,” she replies and you nod, turning to look at the file full of evidence. It was unlike anything you had ever seen, less than twenty-four hours and already fourteen people were dead. 

The rest of the team shuffles in and you meet Spencer’s gaze, seeing the worry build up in his eyes like tiny storms. You were sure that your face shared the same fear. As they are debriefed, you find yourself looking through at the lesions and pictures shared, trying not to grimace at the sight. College had its fair share of gross photos, but those people were either dead or safe. Time was not your friend.

“Reid, go with Dr. Kimura and Dr. Montgomery to the hospital, interview the victims,” you tune in at your name and look up at Hotch as he delivers assignments. “There’s Cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go.”

“We don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s something,” Dr. Kimura huffs out as she raises the tray for everyone to take.

“This is really happening?” Emily asks. That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Can such a weapon be real?

“We knew this could happen. We’ve done our homework. We’ve prepared for this. This is it,” Hotch speaks the words as if they are a mantra as if the FBI knows everything. And while he’s right, the FBI does not know everything about this strain of anthrax. The unknown kills people, you just hope you can get to it before it kills more civilians. 

“Jin dan,” your father says. “May you live one hundred years.”

Your jaw clenches as you watch both your father and Spencer takes the pills. Your father is on the older side, you know that and he’s lived through a lot, but something like this would take him out in a matter of hours. And Spencer, he’s young and healthy, but this spore had killed fourteen people. What was another victim? 

As you follow Dr. Kimura and Spencer out of the conference room, your mind is full of statistics and chemical concoctions that could help you. It moves quickly and swiftly, distracting you from the escalation of the current situation.

“Why didn’t you take the Cipro?” Spencer asks as you stand in the office. 

“I took it when I arrived, I was here before you,” you respond monotonously, sighing as you turn and give him a reluctant smile. “Sorry, I’m just nervous. Never really been ‘in the field’ before.”

“You’ll be great,” he offers you a look of encouragement and squeezes your hand as you follow Dr. Kimura to the cars, waiting for Spencer as he grabs files from JJ. 

The car ride is spent talking about treatments and other specific details. You focus on trying to break down the creation of the spores as well as possible antidotes to combat it. Because there are no know samples just yet, you work through from the other angle. How does one weaponize a regular bacteria? Well, increasing its ability to quickly become activated and multiply would do the trick. To fight against it, our white blood cells would need to work just as quickly to get rid of the foreign bacteria that attacks our immune system, therefore an antidote would be able to target this bacteria and destroy it at the same rate. Just as a vaccine would. Arriving at the hospital is a bit jarring, you walk with Dr. Kimura and Spencer up to the wing where you break off and look at blood and toxin reports to fully understand what parts of the body are being attacks as well as what kind of chemicals makes up this specific toxin. 

“What’s causing her aphasia?” Spencer asks as they make their way back over to you. This piques your interest as you take notes on a separate piece of paper, jotting down everything you can think of to help understand.

“The poison is infecting the parietal lobe, impairing her speech. Some of the other patients displayed the same symptoms shortly before they died,” she states solemnly, and you sigh as you speak out.

“The only thing that can help them is if we find the antidote because unless we do a molecular analysis of the specific strain, we’re unable to understand how this works,” you grumble, the want to lash out angrily growing. “This can’t be his first attack, especially if he was a scientist. You run small trials before getting to human subjects.”

You continue to work with Spencer, sifting through ideas as Dr. Kimura makes calls and inquires about possible previous victims. It made sense in your little science brain, that one would not test on a bigger group before ensuring it was deadly with a smaller group--like vaccine or drug trials. As Dr. Kimura brings over a list of other patients, Spencer goes into another area to call the team as you cross-reference your notes with her. 

“So far, all we know is that this is anthrax. Do you think I can use blood and tissue samples in your lab for analysis? Maybe I can refine the strain and get an antidote or perhaps see how quickly it multiplies,” you ask and she nods.

“Of course,” she calls over another nurse and asks for blood and tissue samples from an already deceased victim and asks for it to be delivered to your lab.

As Spencer steps out of the closet, you look over at him and try to memorize every part of him. The revolver that sticks out of his hip, the badge, the long unruly hair, his violet shirt, just everything that makes him Spencer. Your heart was racing with nerves and all you wanted to do was take him out of harm’s way. 

“How are you feeling?” he inquires as you shake your head. 

“I feel useless. I’m no medical doctor nor am I any closer to finding the antidote,” you mumble and look up at the ceiling to try and stave off the tears. 

“You’re doing great. It’s a waiting game until we get more answers about the profile, you’re doing the best you can,” he reaches out and wraps an arm around you as you hug him, sighing as you deeply inhale his cologne. 

“Yet my best can’t stop all these people from dying,” you look over at the young girl that Spencer was talking to, watching as every breath in her lungs feels like the last. 

“You’re one person. And I know that when it gets down to it, you’ll be brilliant,” the two of you pull away slightly and you look up at him, your noses almost touching. You could kiss him right now if your lives weren’t being threatened, but the voice of Dr. Kimura breaks the two of you apart. 

“How’s she doing?” Spencer asks as the three of you walk over to the window, Dr. Kimura pulling up her charts.

“She’s a fighter. She’s held on this long because she’s young and strong. But she’s started to bleed into her lungs,” Dr. Kimura states and you stare through the glass, wanting to will this young girl to live. 

“One of four left,” you mumble and look over at Spencer. 

“We’re running into another problem. When next of kin have questions, what do we tell them about cause of death?” you look back through the glass as you ponder another unanswerable question. 

Once the samples are ready, you and Spencer go down to the hospital lab where you try to isolate the spore in each of the samples and look at them underneath the microscope as well as streak them on Petri dishes. Spencer helps with tools and supplies so you aren’t running around, but the most that the microscope tells you is that it is anthrax and the dishes won’t be ready for analysis any time soon because they need to incubate. Once done, you clean and sterilize everything before sitting down on one of the chairs and looking up at the fluorescent lights of the hospital.

“This is useless,” you mutter and shake your head.

“No, it’s not. They’re delivering the profile right now and then we’ll be able to find a suspect,” Spencer tells you as you look over at him, a small smile on your face. 

“Are you always this optimistic, Dr. Statistics?” you ask as he chuckles.

“No, because I’m usually running and forming statistics, but you distract me enough from the looming threat of death,” your eyes widen as he speaks as you let out a short laugh before his phone begins to ring. The conversation is short, but you gather that you finally have a suspect worthy of bringing in.

“That was Morgan, we’re going to a suspect’s house. His name is Dr. Lawrence Nichols and he tried to lobby for money to fund his anthrax preparedness plan but failed because it wasn’t feasible,” he says as the two of you grab your things and make your way down to the bottom floor, Derek meeting you as the three of you take off toward his house. He fills you in on Dr. Nichols’ past, his adamancy about wanting all families to have protection against anthrax as well as his inevitable job termination. Your hands shake with nerves as you think about having to be around people, specifically people that could potentially pose a threat to your life. This wasn’t what you did, nor was it who you were. You were far out of your comfort zone, but at least you could be helpful instead of sitting around in a lab. 

The three of you wait outside the small suburban house, waiting as the hazmat team goes through and ensures that there are no traces of anthrax that could threaten your life. 

“This guy just had people over for a charity event last month,” Derek states and you look over at the house, it was painted a robin blue. You would never suspect a serial killer to live in such a normal house. 

“We should probably take a look around anyway,” Spencer suggests as the three of you head toward the garage and behind the house. 

You stayed quiet and observed from a scientific view, looking over at the rose bushes and reaching over to touch the delicate flower. Though even the most beautiful flowers have thorns and you wince as a sharp point pricks your finger. Following Spencer, you stick the finger in your mouth to get rid of the blood. 

As you maneuver around the many plants, Derek’s phone rings and he puts Penelope on speaker as Spencer listens in. You, on the other hand, continue to look around for any evidence pointing toward him being the suspect. Perhaps a lab of some sorts. As you enter the smaller building behind the house, you instantly see the makings of a lab with the fumes hood and the surplus of beakers and Petri dishes. Stepping into the lab, your heart jumps in your chest when you see a shattered test tube on the floor with white powder. 

Behind you, Spencer calls out your name and you rush over the door to close it, the chill of the air conditioning blasting behind you.

“Spencer, get back! Get back right now,” you fumble with the lock, shutting yourself into the lab with the vial. 

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?” he asks and pushes against the door.

“No, please, Spencer. Get away from the door,” you beg, tears forming in your eyes.

“What’s wrong? Open the door,” he persists as he stares at you through the glass. Was it enough? Was he infected? You couldn’t know for sure. 

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you mutter, a tear dripping down your cheek as you step back from the door. 

“Kid, what’s going on?” you hear Derek call out from behind Spencer as he backs up from the door.

“Call Hotch. Call an ambulance. Call everyone,” he tells Derek as the fear fills your veins. Your hands are so cold, why are they so cold? Spencer’s sweet voice isn’t enough to talk you down from the anxiety building up. This was the tsunami and you were caught in the tidal wave.

Spencer stands away from the door as you wrap your arms around yourself, staring silently out at him. Your phone rings as he calls you and you put it on speaker. 

“Tell me what’s going on, everyone’s on their way. You need to describe everything to me,” you can see Spencer’s mind going a million miles an hour and you could see the blame he put on himself. This wasn’t him, this was all you. At least you were right about anthrax getting through you before it did him.

“There’s a body here, I think it’s Nichols, and he’s dead. There’s also a tube that’s shattered. It’s full of white powder, I’m pretty sure it’s anthrax--Spencer,” you pause, staring straight at him. “I don’t want to die, please I’m so scared.”

You hear all the sirens as they approach and you shake your head, more tears falling down your cheeks.

“Sh, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay,” he says and you can see that all he wants to do is wrap his arms around you. “This is where you can help, remember? It’s your turn to be the hero.”

You look up to him, the tears blurring his figure as you wipe them from your cheeks, nodding. 

“You’re right,” you mumble and take a deep breath before beginning to go through the lab. “You’re right.”

First, the body. 

Reaching down, you feel the skin of Dr. Nichols and see the blue-ish tint to his skin as well as the way his blood has pooled. He appears to be dead at least for a day or two, Livor mortis has already set in.

“Spence, he’s been dead for maybe one to two days. Blunt force trauma to his head,” you say just as Hotch and another man join Spencer and Derek. 

“Doctor, we need to get you to the hospital,” Hotch speaks and you shake your head.

“No, I can help. I’m the only one who can work the case here. I’m already exposed, there’s nothing they can do but give me morphine. I can do this,” you state and turn to the lab, looking around for any important information.

“Just get out of there, you need to go to the hospital,” Spencer insists as you continue to search his desk.

“She’s already infected. Now if Nichols created the strain, he may have also created the cure,” the general says and you grab the papers off his desk, reading through his notes. 

“If I’m in here, I can find the cure, or I can make it. If I figure out how he made this strain then I can make the antidote with his notes,” you reply, hearing Spencer sigh with exasperation. “I can also try to see who killed Dr. Nichols, the answer is in here somewhere.”

“Say something to her, order her. She can’t stay in there,” Spencer’s voice cracks and you shake your head, now was not the time to get distracted.

“She’s right, her best chance is to be inside,” Hotch replies and you set your phone down as you read through his writing. “We’re gonna get a suit and mask in to you right away.”

“Don’t bother, I’m already infected,” you mumble and break apart all his lab reports. 

“Your dad is going to kill me,” Hotch tells you and you sigh, shaking your head. 

“He does his job, I do mine.”

Your mind reels at the information, but you force yourself to focus and read through the reports and how Dr. Nichols managed to make such a potent spore. In your mind, your best bet is a combination antibiotic and antibody treatment to combat the toxins and ensure that any remaining bacteria is killed off.

“I think there was a struggle, there’s glass spread out and clutter all over,” you tell them, looking around and finding another desk in the corner. “There’s also another desk in the corner that’s smaller and organized. It appears there are two sets of handwriting as well as instructions on how to sterilize and transfer spores.”

“Nichols would know all that,” the general states. 

“He has a partner, maybe even a protege,” Spencer suggests as Hotch and the general run off to go follow that lead. Your phone begins to vibrate and you see that your father is calling you. Picking up, you put the phone to your ear.

“Papa, I’m so sorry,” you mumble, feeling the tears well up once more. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sh, piccolo. This is not your fault. How are you doing?” he asks and you inhale deeply, beginning to feel sharp pains in your chest. 

“I’m fine. I’m working,” you let out a sad laugh and shake your head. “I’m scared.”

“You’re going to be okay,” he tells you and he says it with such conviction that you almost believe him.

“If I’m not--”

“Don’t talk like that,” he cuts you off and you shake your head, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“If I’m not okay, I just want to tell you that you were the best dad in the whole world and that I love you so much. I’ll tell mom ‘hi’ for you,” you hold in a sob as he begins to protest. “I love you.”

You hang up the phone and sob into your hand, breathing in as deeply as possible to try and stay afloat. Quickly, you call up Penelope as something crosses your mind.

“Hey, you,” Penelope mumbles solemnly.

“No funny quip?” you bite your lip nervously as she sighs.

“I can’t be my sparkly self when you are where you are,” she says.

“Hey, Penny. Do you think you can record something for me?” you ask, glancing out the window to where Spencer is staring in.

“Anything,” you hear her type. “Alright, you’re good.”

“Hey, Spence,” you bite back another sob as it shakes through your chest. “This isn’t how I intended for you to hear this, but here it goes. I love you. So much. And I’m such a coward for not saying it to your face, but, if I’m gone then I want you to know that your brain and your smarts are so incredible, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I love you so much.”

A woman in an orange suit steps into the room and you quickly hang up your phone, smiling at Dr. Kimura.

“Dr. Montgomery,” she says as does her best to walk in the suit.

“You look nice,” you say and let out a shaky laugh. “How is everyone else doing?”

“Let’s worry about you,” she states and you nod as Spencer calls you back. You answer and put him on speaker. 

“Hey, it’s me and Garcia,” he tells you as a tickle in your throat bubbles up and makes you cough. “I think the cure is in there somewhere. Dr. Nichols was a former military scientist so he’s secretive and paranoid. Prentiss and Rossi don’t think the partner was a coworker.”

“Can you look for the cure while I help them?” you ask Dr. Kimura and she nods as you look around the room. “I’ve been through everything, Spence.”

“I know you’re not thinking straight,” his voice cracks. “But, we need you.”

 You clear your throat and nod.

“You’re right,” you rush over to his desk and look through his items. “There’s a picture of him teaching and a syllabus.” 

You think back to the instructions and think for a moment.

“Hold on,” you run over to the other desk and look at the content. “It’s a student, it has to be if he went through the trouble of writing lab procedures.”

Picking up the thick stack of paper, you instantly recognize it as some sort of thesis. Years of curating your own, you would never forget it. 

“A thesis, his partner was a doctoral student,” sweat drips down your hairline as you sift through the papers.

“He wouldn’t have let just anyone in there so perhaps he opened his lab to a student,” Spencer formulates as you read through the paper. “Check the sciences.”

“Uh, cross-checking with names of former employees or customers with grievances at the bookstore.” Penelope types away at her keyboard as you read through the paper, it mentions things like preparedness and less about the spores itself as well as scientific findings. “Nothing, my doves.”

“This doesn’t sound like a science student, this is all about city preparedness, and response,” you cough and try not to stress about the taste of blood in your mouth. 

“Check the social studies,” Spencer states. “Public policy, urban planning.”

“Hot to trot. There’s a Chad Brown, School of Public Policy at U. of M. matches a Chad Brown, former employee at the book front. I’ll tell Hotch,” Penelope hangs up as you stifle another cough, the pain in your chest worsening.

“You did it, now get out of there,” Spencer says and you turn to Dr. Kimura as you let out another cough. Blood splatters on your hand and you wipe it on your pants.

“You said the cure would be hidden somewhere we wouldn’t suspect. What about Nichols’ inhaler?” she walks up with the inhaler as you put Spencer on speaker. 

“Sounds perfect. I’ll see you out here,” he says and you hang up as the two of you walk out of the lab and into the tent where people are ready to spray you down. You let the tears flow freely now that you’re out and the water rolls over you in an attempt to get rid of all the powder that might have stuck. Spencer is outside the tent speaking to Hotch and your father as you get naked and hosed down. Once they’re finished, you’re toweled down and put into a gown as you get on the gurney and are wheeled off to the ambulance. 

“Hey, you,” you mutter weakly to Spencer as he walks alongside you. Another cough bursts out of your chest.

“I’m seeing you off to the hospital, the team doesn’t need me,” he states and you nod, taking his hand as they get you into the ambulance. There is a sharp pain in your lungs every time that you move and you cough up blood more and more. The lights in the ambulance are too bright and you feel so hot as Dr. Kimura places her stethoscope on your chest.

“How are you feeling, Dr. Montgomery?” she asks as you fail to hold back another cough.

“I’m obey,” your eyes widen as the words in your head fail to come out of your mouth. “Obey. I fleel fin.”

Your eyes water as you look over at her and then at Spencer who watches you in terror. 

“Okay, that’s okay,” she mutters to you before calling out to the driver. “Driver, faster.”

The sound of your heart beating echoes in your head is nausea and dizziness loom over you, making you close your eyes. All the sounds, including Spencer who seems to be calling out to you, dissipate as you drift off into the darkness. At least he would know. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #emily prentiss #jj #Jennifer Jareau #david rossi #aaron hotchner #Penelope Garcia #derek morgan #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Knitting You a Home - 4

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Human Reader

Word Count: 2,853

Genre/Rating: Hybrid AU - Established Relationship - Angst - Fluff - Smut - PG-13

Overview: Things have changed for you and Namjoon. It’s been a year since the two of you got together, and despite a rocky start, it was impossible to deny the bond and love you shared for each other. But ever since Hoseok had been separated from his Mate, Namjoon has been withdrawing himself from you and doesn’t come home until late at night.

With questions far larger than either of you imagined, you can’t help but wonder if he’s let his past and old fears come back to haunt him. You had shown him that it was possible to have a home and be loved once before, but will you be able to do it again?

Warning: None.

Playlist:

Main Master List:

Knitting You a Home Master List:

Mated Love is Never Easy Series Master List:

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - ?

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

Grandma was perched on the chair at the register with her knitting, the needles lightly clicking against each other as she moved the yarn forwards and backwards all without looking at her work. It was a skill she acquired from years of practice.

Instead, she watched as you buzzed around the store, arranging and then rearranging displays even though each attempt didn’t look different from the last. It had been amusing within the first ten minutes, but after watching you do this all around the store, she knew something was off, whether or not you wanted to admit it.

“Honey,” Grandma called out, hands still moving as she raised an eyebrow at you. “Did you put something in your breakfast this morning that I should know about? Perhaps you thought it was sugar that you put in your coffee, but it really wasn’t?”

Usually a comment like that would have made you pause and laugh, but you didn’t. Instead, you licked your lip as you glanced at her for a few seconds before adjusting the decorative jade scarf on display.

“I had cereal for breakfast Grandma,” you softly answered, nose scrunching at how the scarf was now set.

The store itself was quiet with the lack of shoppers allowing the conversation to easily pass between you and your Grandmother with ease to keep it from silent. When you didn’t even hear the clicking of her knitting needles, you felt unnerved in the silence.

Turning around, you were surprised to see her arms crossed over her chest, the purple beads attached to her glasses glimmering as she propped them on the top of her head. It had been years since she had looked at you like this; an instant reminder of the days in high school when you attempted to be rebellious.

“What is going on? You’ve managed to do a week’s worth of work in the four hours that we’ve been open.”

You shrugged, looking away and at the scarf. It had been one of Grandmother’s creations. Ideally, it was meant to be worn at events rather than for warmth. “I fell asleep early last night. That’s all.”

It wasn’t a lie. After weeks of waiting up for Namjoon to come home, you finally couldn’t find the strength to stay up, crashing at eleven. You weren’t entirely sure when he came home last night, but when the alarm went off at seven thirty, he was already gone. Unlike you where you needed to be at the store for nine, he had to be at the studio for eight. But like every morning the coffee maker was already set and your favorite mug was waiting, prepared for you by Namjoon himself. All you had to do was press the button to start it.

Grandma shook her head though. Standing up, she walked around the counter and once she was in front of you, pressed her cool hand against your forehead.

The gesture made you smile. “I’m not sick Grandma.”

“I think I’ll decide that,” she teased, gently bopping a finger against the tip of your nose like she had when you were a child. “You may not be sick, but you’re bottling something up for sure.”

She always knew when you were dealing with an issue. As a child, you thought she was able to use magic to sense these types of things, and even though you were now an adult, you still liked to believe that she was magical. Especially when it worked in her favor.

“It’s nothing serious,” you half admitted, smiling up at her. “Namjoon’s just been pulling a lot of hours at the studio, so he’s there more than he’s at home.”

Raising an eyebrow, she ran her fingers through your hair. “He should tell his boss that his wife needs him at home.”

With a giggle, you stepped back once she removed her hand and went back to the scarf display. This time determined to drape it in a way that was pleasing to the eye. “His wife, doesn’t want to interfere with her husband’s career.”

“Please, the two of you are young and in your first year of marriage. He should be with you, in a certain room, in that cozy house of yours that has a few empty bedrooms.” Grandma sent a knowing grin to you, chuckling as you simply shook your head.

“Almost a year,” you corrected. “We’ve known each for a year, but he gave me the Mate Mark in November.”

Grandma hummed, making her way over to a wicker basket that held knitted rabbits dressed in thin sweaters and dresses. They were a hit with young children, perfect as baby shower gifts, and you absolutely loved to make them.

“Which proves my point even more. You’ve been married a little less than a year, and you’re both working like an old married couple.” Holding a bunny, she waved the rabbit’s arm at you. “As your Grandmother and your business partner, I’m telling you that you need a vacation. Go home, take a few days off and sleep in. I can run the shop on my own.”

“Grandma, I’m fi-”

“Yes, you’re fine,” Grandma interrupt. “You’re saying it but I’m not believing it one bit.”

A part of you wanted to argue for a little bit longer, expect all that came out was a sigh of frustration. You were more than capable of working for the rest of the day, but standing by the mannequin, Grandma was right. It was time to recharge yourself, and if you were going to figure out why Namjoon was acting so strange, it would help if you weren’t at the shop all day long. Glancing at the calendar, you realized that it was only Tuesday. How were you already so done with the week when it only just began?

“Alright,” you agreed, setting done the scarf once and for all to head towards the office. “I’ll go home, take that vacation.”

Her excited cheers were ignored as you went to gather your belongings, smiling nonetheless. As much as you teased her, you did love her dearly and were grateful to have Grandmother in your life.

Grabbing your purse, you gave her one last hug and reminded her that you’d be back on Monday before leaving the shop, the little bell jingling in your wake. The car was parked in the back-parking lot, but instead of guiding you there, your feet took you to the right, walking the short distance to another shop that was six doors down from yours.

The air conditioning hit like a wave washing off the summer heat as you entered the bookstore. From nowhere in particular soft music danced around the shop. It had been a while since you last saw Sarah and after everything, you were curious as to how she was doing considering that Hoseok was leaving at the end of the month.

“Be right there,” Sarah called out, her voice coming from a corner of the store that you couldn’t quite see.

“Or I can come to you?” You suggested, releasing the smile when she called out your name in glee.

Following the sound of her voice and books thumping on the floor, you weren’t surprised to see Sarah sitting cross legged on the floor in front of a bookcase. “Well I’m happy to see you like this instead of the last time I saw you.”

Sarah laughed, leaning over to hug you once you sat down next to her. “Believe me, I am too. What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at the shop.”

“Grandma insisted I needed a vacation.” You carefully leaned against a bookcase as Sarah continued to stack the shelf.

“Well I mean, you do,” Sarah agreed, glancing in your direction. “Besides that, how’ve you been? I’ve been meaning to text you but ever since Hoseok signed the contract, we’ve been running around trying to figure out what he needs before leaving for Seoul.”

You shrugged, spotting a romance novel with a crown on the cover. “I’m alright. Just…has Namjoon been in lately?”

Her hand paused its task at the mention of his name, this time turning to face you completely. Like your shop had been, the bookstore was currently free of customers. While that tended to be a worry, it was only noon and typical during the week. The weekend was when business really went to town.

“Actually, now that I think about it, he hasn’t been in these last few weeks. I think the last time I saw him was before the Dance Studio’s May show. Why, is something wrong?”

Licking your lips, you turned the book over, grazing the description with your fingertips. It wasn’t unlike Namjoon to skip out on his trips to the bookstore. It had been the first place he went to on his own when he first came to live with you and it was a habit he kept, always excited to tell you about the new sonnets and books he got that day.

It was strange for him to not be coming to the bookstore.

You knew when this all started, and you didn’t think Sarah wanted to be reminded of that so soon. “He’s just been working longer hours,” you said again, faking a smile when she raised an eyebrow. Guilt swirled in your heart from keeping the truth from her, but the last thing you wanted was to have her relive what Sue put her through. Even if it was just by remembering.

Luckily, Sarah nodded after a few moments. Whether or not she believed you, she didn’t mention it. “Oh well he’s probably just tired then. I know I tend to forget things when I’m not running on enough sleep.”

You chuckled in agreement, handing her back the book you had been looking at. “Yeah.”

A comfortable silence fell as Sarah began to re-stack the shelf again. You took the chance to look at her, noticing the differences since the last time you saw her. Namjoon had explained that Hybrids were able to sense everyone’s emotions and that depending on how severe they were, another person’s emotions could affect theirs as well.

When you had gotten the call from Sarah, her voice breaking over the line as she sobbed into the phone, scaring both you and Namjoon – who had been standing nearby and heard it all clear as day – while you hurried to gather your things to go see her. Before even reaching the car, you knew it was bad. She hadn’t even locked her door so when you arrived at her apartment that day, you had walked right in and found her curled up in bed, cheeks blotchy as she cried into her pillow.

It never crossed your mind that by telling Sue about what Colin had been doing would result in the choices that had been made. Guilt had been an unwelcomed guest in your heart and mind during Sarah and Hoseok’s separation. Despite all your attempts to reign in your emotions at home that night, Namjoon had picked up on them so much that as soon as he came home, he was right there by your side, hugging and sweetly kissing you and your Mate Mark, reassuring you that was never going to happen between the two of you.

Despite his promises, it already felt like there was a rift between you and him.

“How are you and Hoseok?” You asked.

Sarah smiled as she ran a hand through her hair, revealing the side of her neck where her own Mate Mark was. To any onlooker – and with some distance – every Mate Mark looked like an identical scar from a bite. Someone who you never met could have one that look just like yours, but upon closer inspection, it was easy to tell that no two were alike. How could they be identical? Namjoon’s jaw and teeth were different from Hoseok’s. It was the finer details; the grooves and ridges were their own individual shape.

“Amazing,” Sarah breathed out. “It’s just so good to have him back home. He finally got the rest of his belongings from Sue since she’s planning on moving, but it finally feels like everything is going right for us.”

It appeared that way too. There was a life in Sarah’s eyes that when you had gone to check on her with Hoseok gone, had been burnt out. You were scared that she was going to fall into a depressive state without him, but it was a miracle that she managed to fight against it and try to live her life, even when her Mate had been taken away.

A part of you wanted to believe that, if for some reason you lost Namjoon, you’d be able to continue living. Deep down however, you knew how easy it would be slip under the covers and not care, and not know that the days were blending together.

It did surprise you how easily she had mentioned Sue though. “Have you heard much from her?”

The smile on her face flickered, and you thought that maybe you had made a mistake.

“No. Actually, Hoseok’s been the one to talk to her when it came to scheduling a time to go over and pack his stuff.” Her fingers tightened around a hardcover and somewhere in the store, the clock chimed at the half hour. “I’m trying, but…it’s going to be a long time.”

Reaching over, you gently squeezed her shoulder as her words died out, not needing an explanation for how she felt. You knew what she meant and if you were being honest, if someone had done the same to you and Namjoon, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to forgive them.

It was as she was taking a deep breath that Sarah tapped the book and snapped her finger at you, drawing a grin out of you. “Since you’re on vacation, you can give these to Namjoon to look at.”

She hurried to the desk, leaving you to take your time as you stood up, lower back popping as you joined her. By the time you leaned on the wooden desk, Sarah had a stack of six hardcovers waiting for you. The pages were yellowed and upon opening the top one, the musty smell of an aged book greeted you. While you loved to read as well, you didn’t get overly excited over the famous book smell that you knew Namjoon and Sarah died for.

“I found them at this flea market Hoseok and I went to,” Sarah explained, opening up another one. The text was small and centered, and as you took a closer look, you realized that they were books of poetry.

“How much for them?” You asked, turning your purse to pull out your wallet.

Sarah waved her fingers though, lightly slapping your hand when you still tried to take it out. “Don’t worry about it. They’re a gift.”

“Are you sure?”

“If you do not accept these on Namjoon’s half, I will pick up the phone and call your Grandmother right now Missy,” Sarah playfully threatened, her smile about ready to break her face in half.

For a moment, there was silence in the little shop, but it didn’t last long as you both broke out in laughter. Even as you agreed and she bagged them up for you, you slipped a few dollars in the little donation jar that her boss insisted be put out.

“Now, why don’t you head home,” Sarah suggested, walking around the desk, and hugged you. “Steal a nap before Namjoon comes home tonight.”

“He’s probably going to be working until midnight again,” you said, accepting the bag.

But Sarah smirked at you, wiggling her eyebrows in a way that sent you into a fit of giggles. “Not unless you call him and tell him that you need him.”

“You are just as bad as my Grandmother,” you teased, walking towards the door.

Sarah just laughed as you headed outside, shaking your head in amusement. You knew that they meant well, but it was starting to worry you that everyone seemed to be concerned about your sex life with Namjoon, or apparently, the lack of one.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t have one – Namjoon had his heats like every other Hybrid – with everything that’s been going on, there just hadn’t been time to relax and get in the mood. You knew that Sarah was still relatively newly mated to Hoseok, so it wouldn’t surprise you if they were going at it whenever the desire struck.

But as you got into the car, the books for Namjoon carefully sitting on the passenger seat, you weren’t able to stop thinking about it. It felt like forever since Namjoon indicated that he wanted more than a few kisses or a few minutes of cuddling.

Again, despite knowing his love for you, your mind wandered to the other place, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual. He hadn’t always had to stay so late, so why had things changed so suddenly?

#btsbookclub #hyunglinenetwork #wkcnet #btswriterscollective #starryktown #kwritersworldnet #kconnect #Knitting You a Home #namjoon #bts hybrid au #bts hybrid fanfic #bts hyung line #bts #bts fanfiction #bts fan fic #bts fan fiction #bts fanfic #bts namjoon #bts namjoon x reader #bts namjoon fanfic #bts namjoon fic #bts kim namjoon #kim namjoon fanfic #kim namjoon fanfiction #kim namjoon #rm #bts rm #bts rm x reader #bts rm fanfic #namjoon fluff

[everybodyscupoftea]

i’ll be there

frat jj x reader

words: 2020

warnings: underage drinking, cursing

synopsis: in which boys will be boys and forget important dates

You and JJ had only been dating around seven months when your birthday came around. The birthday talk had come up because his was about four months before yours and you planned a whole day for the two of you to go fishing because you could tell how much he missed it with how busy school was keeping him.

JJ was ecstatic and the two of you drank all afternoon. You had a reservation at one of his favorite restaurants and a cake you’d made waiting in your room. He swore up and down to you that it was his favorite birthday ever and that he’d definitely one up you for yours.

As the date got closer, you began to doubt it. To clarify, it was fine, your birthday wasn’t a huge deal to you, just another day really. You never really announced it or had a party for it growing up, normally just movie marathon, dinner, and cake with your parents, sister, and some of your closest friends. But this year, it was your first birthday away from your family and home friends.

You thought maybe JJ was just planning something as a surprise until he started talking about a mixer he was helping plan that was supposed to take place on your birthday. While he was talking, you must’ve gotten a weird look on your face because he trailed off and asked, “Babe, everything okay? Do you think the theme is stupid?”

“No, the theme isn’t stupid, it sounds fun. What day is it again?”

He repeated the date and sure enough, you’d heard him right the first time. Nodding, you took a deep breath, “Well what if you moved it to that Friday instead of Saturday?”

“It’s like tradition or something to have Spring mixers on Saturday nights.”

This time you were absolutely sure that you were making a face. Your mouth fell open as you searched for the right words, “Wait, that’s one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard.”

JJ laughed and ruffled your hair, much to your annoyance, “Yeah, well, we don’t fuck with tradition.”

“Right,” you didn’t really feel like finishing the conversation, so you decided to just head out, “well, I have study group tonight, so I’m going to get something to eat before having to head over.”

“Oh, you want company?” JJ asked reaching for his wallet.

You shrugged, “I’m good. Have to call my sister anyway, so I’ll do that while I’m eating.”

JJ looked confused and a little hurt, you rarely ate dinner without him, but he quickly smoothed his face over, “Yeah, sure. Text me when you get out of study group, we can hang out later.”

With a weak smile, you nodded, “Sure, I’ll talk to you later.”

You left his room before he could lean in to kiss you goodbye and speed walked to the elevator before he could chase you down. The feeling in your chest was hard to pin down, maybe disappointment, maybe insecurity of not being important enough to JJ, but as soon as you had that thought, you pushed it away. That was absurd.

Pulling your phone out on the walk to the cafeteria on campus, you called your sister. She picked up on the second ring with an excited, “Hey!”

“Hey, loser, I miss you.”

She laughed, “Yeah, miss seeing your dumb face around the house.”

“I don’t know how, it’s like I’m still there with all the outfits of mine I keep seeing on Instagram.”

“Hey, if you didn’t want me to wear your clothes, you should’ve brought them with you.”

“Oh whatever,” you told her, not really in the mood to argue back.

She was quiet for a few seconds before gently asking, “Everything okay? Did you and JJ fight?”

You sighed, “No, I just, I think he forgot my birthday because he’s planning something with his frat and I asked if they could move the day and he was all like ‘no we don’t fuck with tradition’ and like I guess I get it, but I just wanted to do the whole movie thing with him this year since I won’t be with you guys.”

“Did you, I don’t know, tell him it was on your birthday or did you happen to leave that little detail out?”

With a soft laugh and slight blush, you responded, “What do you think?”

“I think you left that important bit out because you know how much the frat means to him and you’re willing to just get your feelings hurt for his sake.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, hating how well she knew you.

“Well, Sis, unfortunately he’s probably going to be a typical boy about this and he’s not going to remember until after the fact and then he’s going to feel like shit and you’re going to feel like shit with him. Really this could all be avoided if you just tell him.”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

“Oh my god, you do realize he’s going to be thinking to himself in a few months, huh, I wonder when her birthday is and he’s going to find out.”

“Well, I’ll tell him I don’t celebrate it.”

She made an exasperated noise, “Okay, clearly nothing I say is going to change your mind, so I’ll just drop it for now. How are your classes going?”

And with that the two of you started catching up. You told her about your classes and your study group, and she told you about all the gossip going on with people at home and about how bullshit senior year of high school was.

“I’m just ready to be in college and doing whatever I want, like you,” she whined at the end of her rant.

You laughed, “The grass always seems greener, my friend, but I can promise you it is not.”

She complained a little bit more before the two of you exchanged goodbyes and you started walking to the library to meet with your group. By the time you finished there, it wasn’t too late, so you texted JJ that you were finished. He replied pretty quick, telling you to wait there, and he’d come walk you back since it was dark and your dorm was pretty far away from the library.

Everything was going to be totally fine, he still cared for you, it was going to be okay.

In the weeks leading up to the party, JJ got busier and busier, focused on making sure the details were exactly right. He was put in charge of coordinating the alcohol, which you didn’t really get because he was only 20, but he told you it was a real privilege, so you let it go.

The night before, he crashed in your room and by the time you woke up at 10, he was gone and you had a text from him that he had to go help set up and that he’d be back to pick you up at 5:30.

You stretched and decided to go for a run before getting some expensive coffee you normally didn’t spend money on as a treat for your birthday. It was nice outside, and you enjoyed the fresh air. While you were drinking your coffee, you parents FaceTimed you, so you moved to the outdoor patio and talked with them and your sister for a good 30 minutes.

After picking up lunch at your favorite sushi place, you went back to your room to eat and start getting ready for the Mardi Gras themed party. You scrolled through Instagram, smiling at your friends’ posts for you. It felt nice, especially since JJ hadn’t said anything about it yet.

Your suitemate let herself into your bedroom around 4 with a cupcake from the bakery downtown and a huge smile. It almost brought you to tears. She gave you a huge hug and sang to you before asking, “What do you and JJ have planned?”

“Oh, uh, we’re going to a party his frat is throwing. He helped plan it, so he’s pretty excited.”

She looked disappointed, “He planned a frat party on your birthday.”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. It means a lot to him, so, I don’t mind.”

“Right…” she trailed off before straightening back up, “want me to do your makeup?”

“Oh yes, please!”

JJ knocked at your door at exactly 5:30 and you greeted him with a smile and a kiss. He yelled out a greeting to your suitemate and she got off her bed to lean against the doorframe and glare at him, not returning his hello.

With a weird look in her direction, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out after him, rambling about how sick the house looked with all the decorations, still not bringing up your birthday at all. With that, you resigned yourself to just having to get over it.

You got a drink almost immediately and stayed pretty close to JJ’s side as he walked around socializing. A few people from your study group found you and started talking to you, which you were grateful for. And then it happened, before you could stop it, one of the boys in you group blurted, “Oh, by the way, happy birthday! The big 20, huh?”

JJ laughed, looking down at you, clearly thinking the guy was confused, and you blushed, “Oh, uh, thanks. Yeah, 20.”

“One more year till you’re legal!” he cheered before catching someone across the room’s eye and excused himself.

JJ had gone totally rigid next to you and you cautiously glanced up at his face. You held your hands up, and quietly told him, “J, it’s not a big deal.”

His face was incredibly pale as he whispered back, “It’s your fucking birthday?”

“Um, yep,” you responded with an awkward half smile.

“And you didn’t tell me why?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know, you were just really excited for the party, I didn’t want to ruin it for you or anything.”

“Ruin it for-“ he cut himself off and started pulling you through the crowd and out the back door. JJ ran his hands through his hair, “So that’s why your roommate gave me such a dirty look then.”

You nodded, playing with your fingers as he paced back and forth. Clearing your throat, you said, “It’s really not like a huge thing. I mean we get to spend time together tonight.”

JJ stopped, “No, it’s actually a huge fucking thing. What kind of boyfriend forgets that shit?”

“A busy one,” you joke.

His jaw tensed and he sighed heavily before speaking again, “Babe, I am so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I don’t know how this happened; I mean it’s in my phone calendar.” JJ pulled out his phone to show you and then sighed again, “I put it in April.”

“JJ, I promise it’s okay. I mean I was a little hurt, sure, but at least it wasn’t intentional.”

“It’s just, I love you, and I want to be there for you and I knew you had a problem with the party but I figured it must not be huge since you never said anything but I should’ve fucking asked.”

You had frozen at his words; he’d never said them to you before. JJ gave you a weird look when you didn’t react and it unfroze you. You surged forward, kissing him, before pulling away to look him in the eyes, “I love you, too.”

His eyes went wide, suddenly realizing what he said and he kissed you again, holding your face gently in his hands. When he pulled away, he pressed a final kiss on your forehead before taking your hand, “Let’s go.”

“No, you worked hard on this, we can stay.”

JJ gave you a look, “No, we’re going. I’m going to buy you some ice cream and then we’ll go for a walk and spend some time together. I know I’ve been really wrapped up in this and I haven’t seen you as much.”

You smiled and squeezed his hand a few times, “I’d love that.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fic #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank fluff #frat!jj #outer banks fic #outer banks #obx #sigma chi!jj

[timebird84]

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar 2020 🎄

By @pianomanblaine

December had never been Christine’s favourite month. She by far preferred April, with the twittering birds and the flowers starting to bloom, the sun finally showing its face again after another cold and dreary winter. Erik, on the other hand, had his own reasons for enjoying the winter months. Winter meant that the dark had already set in by late afternoon, allowing him to venture outside earlier without having to worry about his mask drawing too much attention. On top of that, this year’s winter was particularly harsh and cold, keeping most people inside their houses and leaving the streets of Paris as good as empty.

Christine didn’t really feel inclined to go out tonight either, but as Erik had been looking forward to taking his wife on a nice evening stroll for quite some time, she had agreed to leave the relative warmth of their underground home for a while. And so they made their way up, Christine wrapped in her warmest cloak, Erik’s arm draped firmly around her for extra warmth. However, when they finally emerged on the Rue Scribe, Erik’s excitement seemed to vanish as soon as he took in their surroundings. The street was completely deserted, not a single person in sight, which was easily explained by the thick blanket of snow covering the cobblestones.  

‘Oh no. No no no no no,’ Erik groaned, turning around as if he suddenly couldn’t wait to return home.

‘Erik, what’s wrong?’ Christine asked. She gently pulled him back towards her by the sleeve of his coat. ‘It’s only a bit of snow. That doesn’t mean we have to go back immediately.’

‘It does, if I have anything to say about it,’ he grumbled, glaring at the snow as if it had somehow offended him. ‘Snow is slippery, and it makes this awful crunching sound when you step on it, and it slows you down to a snail-like pace, which is incredibly annoying if you actually want to get anything done.’

As Erik ranted on, Christine let go of his arm and carefully took a few steps onto the snow-covered street, watching the small foggy cloud that formed when she breathed out in the cold evening air. She was immediately reminded of the winters she had spent with her papa in Sweden when she was a child. When it snowed there, he used to take her out to go sledding and she would scream with delight as they sped down the hill, her papa chuckling in her ear as he held her close to him.

‘Are you quite finished complaining now?’ she asked Erik. ‘Because I’m actually enjoying myself and I would like to stay out here a little longer.’

‘But Christine, I truly can’t stand snow,’ he replied with a pout on his face that Christine found rather adorable, although he would most likely throw a fit if she ever called him adorable out loud.

When Erik turned around, presumably to head back the way they came, hoping she would give in and follow him, Christine bent down and scooped up a small heap of snow, pressing it into a ball. ‘We’ll see if I can’t change your mind about that,’ she mumbled to herself and threw the ball in Erik’s direction, aiming for his back but instead hitting him in the back of the head.

Erik froze and remained completely still for what felt like an eternity, and Christine began to panic. Maybe this was a mistake. She had only wanted to make him laugh, to help him see that snow could be fun too, but perhaps he couldn’t see the humour of it at all. Just as she was about to apologize, hoping she hadn’t angered him too much, he turned back towards her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

‘I’m afraid you’ll regret that, my dear,’ he said and before she even had time to react he was already aiming his own snowball at her, which narrowly missed her shoulder. Christine shrieked in surprise and ran further up the road, trying to create more distance between them before gathering up more snow. They chased each other up and down the empty street, both of them squealing with laughter as they tossed snow at each other. Christine had to admit that her husband seemed to hit his target more often than she did, but she wasn’t really surprised that the Opera Ghost turned out to be rather competitive even at something as simple as a snowball fight.

She was delighted to see how much he was enjoying himself. It seemed she had succeeded in her mission. For a moment she just stood there, taking in the child-like grin on his face. How long had it been, she wondered, since he had last been this joyful and carefree? Christine tried to imagine a younger Erik, running around with other children his age, all of them covered in snow, their cheeks glowing red both from excitement and the cold. The image was a very pleasant one, until she remembered that Erik had never had such a happy childhood.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice the snowball flying in her direction until it hit her square in the cheek.

‘Oh God, Christine, are you all right?’ Erik cried out, rushing towards her immediately, concern etched across the visible side of his face. ‘I’m so sorry, my love. Did I hurt you? Please tell me you’re not hurt.’ He ghosted his hands over her face anxiously, checking for injuries, but Christine was more than fine and she couldn’t help the peal of laughter that burst out of her. Erik looked quite affronted.

‘I’m sorry, darling, I’m not laughing at you,’ she assured him, turning her head slightly to kiss the hand that was cupping her cheek in apology. ‘It’s just… That was so much fun!’

A slow smile crept across his face. ‘Maybe snow isn’t so bad after all,’ he agreed.

They didn’t go out again in the following weeks, but Christine couldn’t stop thinking about that evening, remembering with fondness how much they had both enjoyed themselves and desperately hoping they would repeat the experience soon. She kept dropping hints to Erik, bringing up the topic of their little outing in the snow whenever she saw the opportunity, but Erik didn’t appear to pay much attention to it. In fact, he hardly seemed to be listening to her at all nowadays.

A few days after their snowball fight he had started acting very strange. He spent more and more time in his study, the door locked firmly behind him. He was often joined there by the Daroga, whose visits were suddenly much more numerous than they had been in the past. They would spend several hours in there doing God knows what, and every time Christine saw them emerge, Nadir would leave with nothing but a ‘good evening’ and a polite nod in her direction, and Erik would staunchly refuse to tell her what they had been discussing. In the end she stopped asking because she knew she would not receive a satisfactory answer anytime soon, and he stopped talking to her altogether.

One afternoon, when she had finally had enough of his continued silence and simply had to know what was going on, she decided to confront him. She found him standing at the front door, her cloak draped over his arm, and before she could even open her mouth to demand an explanation for his behaviour, he handed her the cloak and told her to dress warmly and follow him outside. Her first thought was to ask him why, but as asking questions had gotten her nowhere in the past, she settled for letting out a frustrated growl and doing as she was told.

A carriage was waiting for them on the Rue Scribe, their travelling trunk already loaded onto it. How was that possible? She hadn’t even seen him packing! Erik gestured for her to get in, and for a moment she considered throwing a tantrum, stomping her foot on the snow-covered stones and simply refusing to go anywhere until he told her what the meaning of all of this was. However, as stubborn as she could be, she knew Erik was just as tenacious and would not give in until she did what he told her to do. She climbed inside the carriage, but not before glaring at her husband with an expression that clearly said ‘if looks could kill, you would be dead right now’.

‘Erik, I am getting really tired of this,’ she sighed when he pulled the door closed behind him. ‘Tell me where we are going.’ She didn’t want to admit it, but his refusal to give her any information about his plans truly unnerved her.

‘Patience, my dear. You’ll see when we get there.’ The smirk on his face made it abundantly clear that he was enjoying this far too much for her liking.

They left the city behind, and as Christine hadn’t travelled outside of Paris much over the past few years, she lost all sense of where she was pretty quickly. The next few hours were spent in complete silence and she grew more and more anxious. What in heaven’s name was going on with Erik? He had never treated her like this, never ignored her as if her wishes and feelings were completely irrelevant. When she thought back to the very first time he had brought her to his lair underneath the opera, she remembered how even back then he had made her comfort his absolute priority. That had not changed after they were married. Until now. This was so unlike him and not having the slightest idea of what was causing this sudden change in behaviour made her sick with worry.

It was growing dark outside and the carriage was now driving through a forest, apparently leaving civilisation completely behind. By now, Christine was truly frightened and couldn’t stop the tears she had felt pricking her eyes for the past hour from spilling over any longer. When Erik heard her sniffling, he looked at her with panic in his eyes.

‘Darling, whatever is the matter?’ he asked, his hands reaching out to wipe away her tears, but she batted them away.

‘What’s the matter?’ she cried, not caring if she sounded hysterical. ‘It’s dark, we’re in the middle of the woods, you won’t tell me where we are going, and you have refused to talk to me for days! I’m your wife, Erik. I have the right to know what is going on, and I need you to tell me right now because you’re scaring me.’ Her soft sniffling had turned into full body-wracking sobs by now and this time she did not slap his hands when he pulled her towards him to comfort her.

‘Oh my dear, I am so sorry,’ he whispered soothingly as he let her cry on his shoulder. He started rubbing gentle circles on her back with one hand, something he often did when he was trying to calm her down, while he buried the other hand in her hair, which was more likely meant to calm himself down. Seeing her in distress always made him nervous, even more so when he knew that he was the one who caused it. ‘I never meant to frighten you, truly,’ he swore. ‘I simply wished to surprise you.’

‘Surprise me?’ She pulled away a little, wiping her cheeks dry, and looked at him incredulously. ‘By forcing me to come away with you and not telling me where we’re going or what’s going to happen next?’ How could he possibly think that was an appropriate way of surprising her?

He flinched at her words, and she realized he must be flashing back to the last time he had taken her away like that, after the disastrous performance of Don Juan Triumphant.

‘When you say it like that, it does sound like an idiotic idea,’ he admitted, rubbing his neck in a gesture of uneasiness. ‘You’re right of course, I should have talked to you. I am really sorry, my love, please forgive me.’ He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a feather-light kiss on her knuckles, and glanced at her with a pleading look on his face. He sounded genuinely remorseful and Christine allowed herself to relax a little, although she wasn’t inclined to forgive him for what he had put her through just yet.

‘I still don’t understand. What exactly were you trying to surprise me with?’

The moment the question had left her lips, the carriage came to a halt.

‘Allow me to show you,’ he replied, throwing open the door and extending his hand to her in invitation. She only hesitated for a second before she took it and followed him out of the carriage. The snow underneath her feet made that crunching sound Erik had claimed to hate so much the last time they were outside. She took a deep breath, relishing the fresh night air entering her lungs.

Until now she had believed they were deep in the forest, surrounded by nothing but trees, but to her utter surprise she now found herself standing in front of a beautiful little cottage. There was smoke rising from the chimney, so the house must be inhabited. She had to admit she was curious to learn who was living here, so far removed from everything and everyone, no other houses to be seen for miles, but more than anything she was extremely confused.

‘Erik, what are we doing here? Whose house is this?’

He grinned somewhat sheepishly at her as he replied. ‘Mine.’

‘Now you’ve truly lost me,’ Christine said, gaping at him in bewilderment. ‘What do you mean, it’s yours? And if it’s yours, then who is living here? And if someone else is living here, then why are we here?’

Erik squeezed her hand to stop her from spewing out any more questions. ‘If you can stop talking for a minute, I’ll explain,’ he chuckled. ‘I acquired the house only a few weeks ago. Before that, it had been empty for a long time. I had always meant it as a surprise for you, I was just waiting for the right occasion to show it to you.’

Christine felt tears threatening to fall again, but this time, they were not tears of sadness or fear. Erik had wanted to surprise her, and so he had bought her a house? He really didn’t do anything halfway, did he?

‘I had the Daroga help me to move in some furniture. He has been here earlier, stocking the kitchen with food and other supplies for our stay, lighting the fire, and so on,’ he explained, gesturing towards the smoking chimney. ‘I asked him to leave shortly before we arrived.’ So that is what all the late night conversations with Nadir had been about then. She would have to thank the man in person next time she saw him.

‘You seemed to enjoy our last outing in the snow so much,’ he continued when Christine remained silent. ‘It made me want to take you out more often, but I wanted to make certain we wouldn’t be bothered by any other people around, so this seemed like the ideal solution.’

Christine was at a loss for words. How was it possible that this man who had grown up without ever knowing any kindness, who had been shown so much hate and contempt in his life, could still be so sweet and thoughtful? Admittedly, he could have gone about it all in a different way, but since it was very unlikely he had any experience with being surprised like this himself, she supposed she could forgive him his error of judgment.

‘Please say something, love,’ Erik begged. ‘Do you not like it? We can return to Paris immediately if you wish, but maybe I could show you inside fi-‘

Christine’s mouth was on his before he could finish his sentence, her arms wrapped firmly around his neck. ‘It’s perfect, thank you,’ she whispered against his lips, ‘and I would love to see the inside.’

‘Your wish is my command,’ he murmured as he swept his giggling wife up in his arms and carried her across the threshold.

They stayed at the cottage in the woods for a couple of weeks, and it felt like absolute bliss to Christine. She got to spend more time outside over the course of the first few days than she had in the past couple of months and she savoured every second of it. Although Erik had never forbidden her from going outside, he was not particularly fond of going out during daylight hours himself, and she knew it made him uncomfortable when she left the house without him – she suspected a small part of him still believed that if she left, she would never return – so she had limited her excursions outside to a minimum. But now that she had the chance, she could not get enough of the fresh, crisp air of the forest.

On one of their walks exploring the grounds surrounding the house, they stumbled upon a small lake. Since it had been freezing continually for a while now, the lake was completely frozen over and Christine jumped up and down in excitement remembering the ice skates she had noticed among the supplies that Nadir had brought for them. After testing if the ice was solid and strong enough to hold them, Erik reluctantly agreed to fetch the skates.

Erik had never ice skated before, but Christine had enough experience to guide him through his first steps onto the ice. Once he had managed to make his way onto the ice without falling over, she took his hand and slowly started skating around the edge of the lake. He had a look of utmost concentration on his face and held out his free arm to keep his balance, but managed to follow her without incident.

‘See, this is fun, isn’t it?’ Christine said after a few laps around the lake, and although his answering smile was still somewhat hesitant, he seemed to be growing more and more sure-footed. After another lap he felt confident enough to try it on his own. Christine let go of his hand and watched as he went off, his smile growing with every step, obviously satisfied at having mastered another skill. He must have gained a bit too much confidence, because the moment she took her eyes off him, she heard him cursing and looked back just in time to see him stumble and fall, landing flat on his bottom.

She sucked in a breath and grimaced in sympathy. She had fallen over enough times herself in the past to know how much that could hurt. He didn’t seem to be injured too badly though, as he struggled back on his feet within seconds, but the smile had been wiped off of his face. Christine hurried over to make sure he was okay, but she couldn’t convince him to stay on the ice any longer. He sulked all the way back to the cottage, muttering that he had hurt his wrist in the fall, but his mood lightened significantly when she promised to kiss it better.

Erik did not always join her outside. Sometimes the need to compose would simply grow too strong and he would withdraw to the piano in the music room (of course the cottage had a music room, he would probably have refused to stay in the house if it didn’t).  On these occasions, Christine set out on her own, always promising not to stray too far away from the house, and by the time she returned, Erik often had a new piece of music to play for her.

Their evenings however were invariably spent together. Sometimes they would sing. ‘Being away from home should never be an excuse to neglect your voice, Christine, you need to keep it in shape,’ Erik never failed to remind her. Other times she would listen to Erik reading aloud from one of her favourite novels, letting his rich, seductive voice wash over her and lull her to sleep. But her favourite evenings were those they would just spend by the fire in companionable silence, Christine lying down on the couch with her head resting in her husband’s lap, his long fingers combing through her hair, which she loved so much that if she were a cat, she was sure she would be purring.  

Sooner than she would have liked, the last day of their little winter holiday arrived. Erik had business at the Opera to attend to, but he promised her they would return before long. Christine was determined to make the most of their final moments here, and as they had woken up to find the earth covered in a fresh layer of snow, they decided to go out one last time and make a snowman together. The morning sped by, and as Christine stepped back to take in the final result, she burst out laughing when she noticed the uncanny resemblance their creation bore to Monsieur Firmin, one of the two fools who ran the Opera, as Erik described them. Now she understood why he had insisted on finding some twigs to give the snowman a moustache.

That night they decided to retire early, as the carriage would be there to pick them up early the next morning. Christine was changing into her nightgown while Erik added another log to the fire.  She knew he did not do that for his own benefit, as he didn’t mind the cold much, but was thinking of her comfort, for which she was extremely grateful. It had been freezing outside and her fingers and toes had still not warmed up properly. She smiled gratefully at him, glad that he had already taken off his mask for the night so she could see his face as he gazed back at her lovingly. If his love for her could warm her physically, she would never be cold again.

Alas, that was wishful thinking. She shivered as she finished undressing and hurried to join Erik in bed, almost stumbling over her own feet in her haste to get under the covers. She sighed happily as she settled into his arms, rubbing her ice cold feet against his, causing him to yelp in indignation.

‘My love, even to my eternally cold skin, your little feet feel like icicles,’ he complained.

‘I know, I’m sorry darling,’ she replied, ‘but I simply haven’t managed to get warm all evening. My hands are still cold too.’ She placed her hands on his cheeks to prove her point.

He was prepared this time and flinched only slightly at her icy touch. He let her keep her hands there for a few seconds more before covering them with his own and bringing them to his mouth. ‘Allow me to warm them, then,’ he murmured, the sound of his voice sending shivers down her spine that had nothing at all to do with the temperature in the room. He began peppering her hands with kisses, starting at the tips of her fingers and making his way down over her palm to her wrist. He pressed a more lingering kiss there, caressing her skin with his lips, looking up at her with an expression that spoke both of adoration and desire.

Christine felt her mouth turn dry and pressed her arm a little closer to his mouth, unable to resist the sensation of his lips on her skin. She licked her lips unconsciously and noticed how his eyes immediately flickered to her mouth to follow the movement of her tongue.

‘You know what else feels cold?’ she whispered.

‘Do tell,’ he breathed against her skin, smirking at her, fully aware of the effect his touch had on her.

‘My lips. My lips are cold.’

‘Well then,’ he grinned, moving a hand to her waist to pull her closer, ‘I’ll simply have to warm them too.’

#PotO Advent Calendar #PotO #Phantom of the Opera #Door 10

[someguynamedstevewrites]

My Roommate is an Apparition: Saturday Morning Cartoon Complaints

Based on characters created by @reddpenn

————————————-

There once was a lonely apparition that haunted an apartment in an old building. No one knew where it came from, how it came to be, or why it was there. In fact, nobody knew the spooky specter actually existed since nobody could see it. Eventually, the apparition met someone who could see them, and they were no longer lonely. But before that, there were a few instances where the incorporeal creature made contact with human beings.

This is one of those stories.

It was September 20th, 1997, and Terrence “Terry” Vanderbrook was working as an operator for a local CBS Network Affiliate. He spent his days making sure that people calling into the station were directed to where they needed to go, and also screening out any unwanted calls. Regardless if they were folks calling in to speak to the news team about breaking news, people wanting to partner with the station for a special event, or for any other reason, Terry took care of them all.

One call, in specific, would go down as one Terry would remember for the rest of his years. (Mostly because he wasn’t sure if it actually happened or not).

“Thank you for calling your local CBS station, W.O.-“ Terry began to say before being cut off.

“Where...?” came a voice that sounded like breath on the wind.

“I’m sorry?” Terry asked.

“Where... are they...?” the raspy voice asked.

In the couple of years Terry had been a phone operator, he received more than his fair share of crank calls. Some were very obvious from the get go, while others were subtle and not quite as apparent. On occasion, a call might start off sounding like a prank, but actually turn out to be a legitimate call. Terry learned that the hard way after being berated by a 76- year old woman who was calling to complain about a breaking news report interrupting Diagnosis: Murder. On that day, Terry learned never to underestimate the appeal of Dick Van Dyke to seniors.

Still, uncertain if this was a prank or not, Terry did exactly what he was trained to do: proceed in a professional and courteous manner while trying to obtain more information to determine the needs of the caller. (At least until he was sure whether this call was genuine or not.)

“What can I help you find today?” Terry responded with a smile in his voice (as outlined in the Employee Handbook for Telephone Operators, page 12).

The raspy voice spoke a little louder to get its point across, “Car... TOONS!!!”

“Cartoons?”

“Where. Are. The. Car. Tooooons!?” the voice demanded.

Terry looked over at the small calendar on his desk. It was Saturday. “Oh! You mean the Saturday Morning Cartoons?”

“Yesssssss...” the voice said with a hiss.

“Give me one second,” Terry said as he began to type away at the keyboard to his Windows 95 work computer. Connecting to the network’s server, Terry began searching for and pulling up the schedule for the day’s channel listings. A memo had circulated around the office not too long ago about changes to the channel lineup this fall, but Terry hadn’t paid too much attention to it. He still hadn’t gotten the hang of the search function for his e-mail just yet.

“I’m... waaaaaaaaaiiiii... tiiiiiiiiinnnnngggg,” the voice said as nasally and obnoxious as possible.

“Hang on, kid, I almost got it,” Terry shot back. At this point, he figured the caller was some kid, probably sick in bed (which would explain the raspy voice), hoping to watch their Saturday Morning Cartoons and having trouble with it. (Terry was way off the mark, but he didn’t know that).

While the inter-network speeds within the CBS station’s computer network were much faster than the new 56 Kbps speeds Terry got on his dial-up modem back home, it still took a while to get to the shared network folder that contained the spreadsheet containing the day’s programming lineup. With a double-click, Terry opened up Excel 95 and saw...

“Oh...”

Terry bit his lip and breathed in through his teeth. He always hated calls like this; calls where he had to be the unfortunate bearer of bad news. The person on the other end of the line NEVER took it well. It would lead to lots of yelling, screaming, and demands to speak to his manager. And that was when Terry was speaking to full grown adults, so he was rightfully concerned about the kind of tantrum a sick child could produce.

“I’m sorry,” Terry said with regret, “but it looks like the CBS Kidz programming block has been replaced with CBS News Saturday Morning and a rerun of The Andy Griffith Show.”

————————————-

Due to the nature of the apparition’s existence, it was debatable whether or not it was actually “alive”. Considering the facts, it had been “born” a few years ago and hadn’t “lived” for very long by the time it made this phone call. Furthermore, during the time in between, it experienced emotions such as happiness, sadness, inquisitiveness, and many more.

But this was the first time the apparition became truly angry!

The apparition was frowning. It’s worth mentioning this, because before now, the apparition had never, ever frowned. Its face was no longer smiling, or expressionless like a confused child, like it had been for every day since the apparition began its existence. It was consciously moving the non-existent muscles on its face to move downward to express just how angry it was. Its sharp teeth were on full display like a snarling beast. To say it was not a pretty sight would have been an understatement.

The ethereal hand that had been twirling the coils of the telephone cord was now clutching the phone book as tightly as it could. Visions of cartoon characters expressing their anger whirled through the apparition’s head as it began to conjugate steam out of its non-existent ears. The apparition could not find the words to express the outrage it felt, so it did something else to vent its frustration.

It made a wooden chair suddenly fly through the air at one-hundred and twenty miles per hour into a wall.

*CRASH*

————————————-

The sound of wood smashing and splintering could be heard over the phone, and nearly made Terry jump out of his chair.

“WHOA! Kid, are you okay!?” Terry asked with genuine concern.

“BAAAAACK!!!” the apparition practically screamed. Its voice had distorted and sounded sinister; carrying a demonic reverb.

“...BRING! THEM! BAAAAAACK!!!”

“Poor kid,” Terry thought to himself, “they are definitely not taking this well.”

If it had been anyone else other than Terry taking that call, the horrific voice over the phone likely would have scared them out of their pants by now. But he was a veteran at handling the phone and this was not the first time someone used a voice distorter on a call. It was the first time a kid had used one (as far as he knew), but Terry had seen the toy commercials for “YakBak” on TV and knew that any kid with one could do funny things to their voice.

“Listen,” Terry said calmly, “I understand you’re disappointed, but that’s no reason to break things and throw a fit. You might hurt yourself or make yourself even sicker.”

————————————-

The frown had vanished from the apparition’s face. In its place was a look of sheer confusion. This was definitely not the reaction the apparition was expecting when they made this phone call.

The last time the apparition used its scary voice was back when the previous apartment tenants were talking about getting rid of their TV. To keep that from happening, the apparition practiced hard on finding the best voice it could mimic that would “persuade” the residents living there at the time to keep it. It even figured out how it could project its voice into any electronic device with a speaker to create an even more haunting effect (and to make sure the people there could actually hear its demands).

It worked, but it worked a little too well.

Shortly after the apparition began to actively haunt its oblivious roommates, the tenants packed up and moved out in a hurry, leaving their furniture and appliances behind. This included the 32” CRT TV that the apparition was fond of, and a landline telephone. The apparition didn’t care much for the phone line since they were happy just having the TV all to themselves twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. (Plus, they didn’t have anyone to call or talk on the phone to, anyway.)

At least they were happy until about a week ago, when the Saturday Morning Cartoons were a complete no show for the first time in years.

But the apparition had seen shows come and go, television programming blocks change for no apparent reason, occasional weather alert bulletins interrupting their cartoons, and some of their favorite cartoons canceled. They learned patience, understanding, and compromise from these experiences. Just because there were no cartoons that week didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be cartoons next week.

Two weeks without cartoons, however, simply would not do.

The apparition scoured the apartment for a phone book, concentrated on solidifying its fingertips to turn pages, located the phone number for the TV station, and dialed. It took a lot of effort for a ghostly being to make a phone call, and it was not about to let its efforts go to waste.

If the scary voice didn’t work, they’d have to take a different approach. It was time for Plan B.

————————————-

“...Sorry,” the apparition apologized, “...please... bring them... back?”

Terry sighed. He had kids of his own, and dealing with them could be a real challenge; especially when he couldn’t give them something they wanted. Once they realized throwing a tantrum fit wouldn’t work, they start trying to “bargain” just like the kid (who wasn’t actually a kid) that was on the phone.

“I’m sorry, kiddo, but it’s out of my hands,” Terry said using his “sympathetic Dad” voice, “I know it stinks, and if I could bring them back, I absolutely would.” After some frantic scrolling through his work e-mail inbox, he finally found the e-mail he was looking for. “But, thing is, we got to follow the rules from the FCC, so-“

“Eff... See... See?” the voice interrupted to ask.

“The Federal Communications Commission,” Terry explained, “You might not have learned about them in school yet, but they’re a part of the government. They make the rules we here at the TV stations got to follow, and one of those rules is to show three hours of educational programming, and the cartoons we had, well...” Terry tried to find a way to let the (not) kid down nicely, “...they just weren’t educational enough. That make sense?”

————————————-

It did not make sense. The Apparition had no idea what the heck the person on the other end of the phone line was talking about. All it knew was that they took away their cartoons and they weren’t going to give them back.

Taking a look at its transparent fingers, the apparition decided it was time to take matters into its own hands. They had tried scaring the person on the other end of the phone and they had tried asking nicely, but now it was time for plan C.

The apparition plunged its fingers into the tiny holes of the phone receiver. The phone was eventually engulfed in the apparition’s being and soon after that, the receiver began to slowly suck the apparition into it.

If someone walked into the room at that moment, and if that person could also see the apparition, they would see the lower half of a person’s body up to about their waist with the upper half crammed into a phone. It looked like a cartoon where someone had taken the receiver of a phone and hit someone over the head with it so hard that it jammed them inside.

Meanwhile, inside the phone, the apparition’s upper body stretched as it squeezed its way through the telephone cables. It wasn’t easy, and the apparition had never tried anything like this before, but it was filled with determination. Following the voice of the person on the other end of the phone, the apparition could feel itself getting closer and closer to its destination.

It smiled a sharp, toothy grin and created sharp claws on its hands in preparation for its arrival. Soon it would wreak havoc against those who had wronged it. They would rue the day they had taken away their source of Saturday Morning joy! It could see a light ahead of itself, and once it finally reached it, the apparition took its mangled, clawed hand and...

————————————-

*scritch*

“Ow,” Terry said as he pulled the phone away from his head. Something had just scratched him. Looking at the phone receiver, Terry blinked and then blinked again as he came to comprehend what he was looking at.

It was a very small, tiny hand with what looked like long fingernails poking out from one of the holes on the receiver. It flailed and strained as if it was trying to reach out but couldn’t get itself through. The closest thing Terry could liken it to was if a mouse or hamster had somehow gotten into the phone and was sticking its paw through the holes on the phone.

It was kind of adorable.

After a few seconds, the hand retracted into the phone. A second after that, Terry could have swore that he saw a tiny head poke out of one of the holes on the receiver. It had long hair, large eyes, no nose, and looked rather irritated. It struggled as it tried to pull itself out of the phone, but it just couldn’t budge.

Terry was quite sure he was seeing things. He wasn’t sure if it was because of something he ate, or from not getting enough sleep. The thought never entered his head that he was looking at a supernatural being that had shrunken its upper torso, shoved and stretched itself through the phone line, and was now trying to crawl its way out the other end. That would have been silly.

After a few more seconds of struggling, the apparition seemed to realize that this was not going to work and silently admitted defeat to itself. It looked up at the (relatively) gigantic face of Terry who was casually looking at the apparition without an ounce of fear, shock, or horror showing on his face. Without really thinking, Terry just looked at the tiny head poking out and just shrugged as though saying, “Sorry, can’t help yah there, bud”.

Dejectedly, the apparition pulled its head back inside the phone as Terry absentmindedly waved goodbye to it.

————————————-

Back in the apartment, the apparition pulled itself out from the phone and sighed. It held the phone up to its earless head to hear what the man on the other end had to say.

“So, uh...” the man said before a hesitant pause, “...I know this is going to sound crazy, but...” another pause as the man on the other end tried to put what just happened into words, “...did you just try and travel through the phones so you could claw at me?”

The apparition looked to the left, then looked to the right, and if it was capable of it, it would have broken out in a nervous sweat. Sheepishly, the apparition responded, “...yes,” with the same tone of voice a child would use if they had been caught eating cookies before dinner.

A slight pause before the man followed back with, “...didn’t really work out for you, did it?”

Again, sounding like a child that knew they were totally busted, the apparition responded, “...nooooo...”

There was another pause on the phone before the man on the other end eventually said, “Well... better luck next time.”

This call was starting to get extremely awkward as the apparition had no idea what was going to happen next.

After about a minute of silence (which is considered taboo among telephone operators) the man on the other end finally asked, “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

This was a battle the apparition had thoroughly lost, and it knew it. It was time to throw in the towel. With a depressed sigh, it responded back, “No... thank you”.

————————————-

Despite not being sure what exactly he just saw, Terry leaned forward in his chair and decided the very least he could do was offer some encouraging words. “I know you’re disappointed, and I get that. I really do. But other TV channels have cartoons too. You can always watch them there.”

“...yeah...” the voice responded.

“It’s not like all the cartoons in the world just suddenly vanished, right?”

“...I suppose...”

Terry was ready to wrap this call up and had his closing spiel all set to go. “We appreciate you caring enough to call in today and while I may not have been able to help you, I do hope you feel better soon. Okay?”

There was a moment of silence before the voice responded back, “...okay...”

“Thank you very much for calling CBS, and have a good rest of your day,” Terry said earnestly.

There was a click signaling the phone on the other end had disconnected. Terry hung up the phone on his end, leaned back in his office chair, and looked up to the ceiling.

At that exact same moment, the person they had been talking to just a minute ago thought the exact same thing as he did.

“Well... that was weird.”

#my roommate is an apparition

[atlafan]

My Everything - Part Five

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: Little bit of angst, fluff, and smut (we got some butt stuff as well)

a/n: not proofread fam, I didn’t have the strength.

Masterpost

Harry was beyond excited to go to the Cape with you today, and just spend the day together as your little family. Buster was being a good boy in the back seat like always. There wasn’t much traffic like the two of you suspected. He looked really cute today, he was wearing a forest green sweater with a pair of loose jeans. His pearls out and proud.

The first location you’d be checking out was an inn with indoor and outdoor accommodations. It wasn’t right on the beach, but you could see it in the background, and that’s all that mattered to you.

“Here it is, love.” Harry says to you as he pulls into the parking area.

“It’s even prettier in person.” He hums in agreement.

You get Buster’s leash on and help him out of the car. You both head inside and tell the woman at the check in desk that you were there for a tour.

“Ah, the soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Styles.” A man says, approaching the both of you. “Welcome to our inn.”

“Thank you.” Harry shakes his hand and so do you.

“And who’s this little guy?”

“This is Buster, our little fur baby.” You giggle. “We’re hoping to have him bring the rings down the aisle.”

“Very cute, we see that more and more these days.” He pats him on the head. “Shall we?”

You both nod and follow him out to the main ballroom.

“So we accommodate both buffet and a served dinner. We know a lot of people opt for buffet these days because it is less expensive, but know we have the room for both. We can also set up the ballroom pretty much anyway you’d like. Nice round tables and what not. Typically we have the dancefloor over there along with the DJ.” He points to one end of the room. “The bar usually goes there.” He points to another direction. “But other than you have complete creative freedom.”

“Couldja see yourself dancin’ out there, babe?”

“Oh for sure. Aw, Harry, our first dance.” You hug his arm quick and continue to follow the man.

Harry completely forgot that a couple hundred people would be watching the two of you dance…he knew how to dance, but he wanted to make it really special for you.

“There’s a door that leads out here to a nice patio.” He opens the door for the both of you. “Folks can take drinks out here, but there is a gate that doesn’t allow them past a certain point. We can set up tables and chairs out here as well. It’s a beautiful view of the water, don’t you think?”

“It’s lovely.” You say.

He leads you out back through the ballroom and to where the bathrooms were. Then through another set of double doors to the outdoor space where the ceremony would be.

“That gazeebo is breathtaking.” You say as you walk up to it. You look out back towards the inn. “Looks like there’s plenty of room for chairs, sweetie.”

“Mhm, this is a gem for sure.”

“There’s a path down that way to the beach as well. Many couple do their first looks down there, and family photos since it’s a bit more private.”

“Good to know.” Harry says. “Are we doin’ that? A first look?”

“They’re cute, but I’d really like the first time you see me in the dress to be when I walk down the aisle.”

“I feel the same way actually.”

“Can you show us what a room might look like? Maybe a bridal suite as well?”

“Of course! Right this way, I’ll show the bridal suite first, it’s just down the hall from the ballroom.”

The bridal suite had a ton of chairs and mirrors and a bathroom. It was ideal. He shows you wear the groom and his party typically get ready as well, and then shows you what the honeymoon suite looks like.

“Will you two be having separate rooms the night before?”

“I think that’s the plan.” You say as you walk in. “This is lovely.”

“Jacuzzi tub too.” Harry says, poking his head into the bathroom.

“We have dog accommodations as well. We can make sure there’s biscuits and a bowl for water in whatever rooms you stay in.”

Lastly, you follow the man to his office and take a seat.

“I know it was a lot to see, and I’m sure you’re considering some other places.”

“We are.” Harry says. “Can we see your packages and stuff like that?”

“Of course.” He gets a piece of paper from his desk and explains the different packages and prices. It was honestly really fair and surprisingly enough under $10K.

“I’m just curious, could we see like when your open dates are? That might sway our decision in the end as well.” You say. You knew Harry would have a lot to discuss over lunch before going to the next location.

“Sure, when were you two thinking?”

“Ideally, next fall…” Harry says. That sounded really soon to you, and way too much to handle in a year.

“But we’re flexible.”

The man takes out a calendar and shows you both.

“As you can see, we’re completely booked through next fall already. I think people wised up that that’s a bit cheaper too. However…” He flips to April 2022. “If you’re looking to still save a few bucks we have some open weekends as early as April. It’s not terribly hot, but not too cold either.”

“Could I take a picture of that?” You ask.

“Certainly.” You take your phone out and snap a picture of the calendar.

After a few more questions you thank the man for his time, and head to the small restaurant the inn had to test out the food a bit. They allowed Buster to sit at your feet.

“So…what’d you think overall?” Harry asks.

“I love it, honestly. I wonder how the other place will compare.”

“You didn’t seem too, uh, broken hearted that it wouldn’t be able to be next fall…”

“Harry.” You sigh. “I just don’t think it’s realistic with everything else going on this year. Hell, I’m going dress shopping with Erica next weekend, and the weekend after that I’m supposed to meat El and her other bridesmaids for our dresses. I’d rather have a bit more time so we’re not stressed, you know?”

“I get it…felt sick when I saw 2022 though, I’m not gonna lie.”

“I know.” You laugh. “It feels really weird to wait that long, but I have a feeling it’ll fly by.”

“I’ll be twenty-eight by the time we get married…”

“Mhm, and I’ll be turned twenty-seven.”

“You really wanna wait that long?”

“Well…” You lean a little closer. “I could use that time to get off birth control so we could go on our honeymoon and we could…you know…” Harry sits back in his chair to contemplate all of it.

“I suppose it would give us more time to keep saving for all the things we want…” He takes a sip of his water. “God, what torture, havin’ a fiancé as sexy as you and not bein’ able to come inside yeh. Damn shame.”

“Harry!” You shush him. “Please.” You shake your head. “There’s other places on my body you can do that.”

“We’ll need to be really careful so you don’t get pregnant beforehand like El and Lou.” He laughs.

“Mhm, very careful.”

“Okay, I suppose that’s a good compromise. I wonder what dates the other place will have open. They could have some sooner, you know?”

“We’ll just have to see what they say.”

Needless to say neither you nor Harry liked the second venue nearly as much, and it was way more expensive. The dates were also farther out. Your choice was easy enough to make, so you decide to just drive back to the first place and talk to the man.

“Back so soon?” He says, delighted.

“We love it here.” You say, sitting down in his office. “And we didn’t want to risk not getting a good date. We think April 2022 is perfect.” You give Harry’s hand a squeeze.

“We’d like the package with the buffet…” Harry says. “The silver.”

“Excellent choice.” Harry writes him a check for the deposit. “We’ll be contacting you shortly to do a food tasting. Please take some time to look over our menu options. Did you enjoy lunch?”

“We did! It was delicious.” You say.

“Wonderful. We’ll help you every step of the way best we can. I’ll be your direct contact so please don’t hesitate to reach out with any and all questions.”

“Thank you so much.” Harry says and shakes his hand.

You both squeal once you’re in the car.

“April 18th, 2022…can you believe it? We’ve set a date!” You say.

“I’m so excited, baby.” He kisses you. “Let’s get home, I need to get in there.” He gives your thigh a squeeze and you giggle.

“Sounds good to me.”

//

“Harry, if I don’t get up now I’ll be late to Erica’s bridal appointment.” You giggle.

Harry wouldn’t get off of you, he had you pinned to the bed.

“But it’s our anniversary.” He mumbles as he kisses your neck. You look up at him and smile. “This day last year I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“I believe your exact words were, am I your boyfriend?”

“And you said, would you like to be.” He kisses you again. “So, you can’t leave until I’ve had my way with you.”

“Of, is that so?”

“Mhm.”

“Couldn’t you have your way with me when I get back?”

“You’re not gonna be home until like dinner time.” He pouts.

“Baby, please don’t make me feel guiltier than I already do…besides, I need you to go on Vista Print today and see what you want the save the dates to look like, remember?”

“Fine, but we’re havin’ a quickie in the shower.” He looks down at you. “If that’s what you want of course.”

“I do.” You kiss his nose. “Thanks for double checking.”

Harry managed to suck a huge hickey on the back of your shoulder. You were just happy it wasn’t you who would be getting in and out of dresses today.

“Oh! That’s been my favorite so far, honey.” Your mom says as Eric comes out in her fifth dress.

You had stayed relatively quiet. You didn’t really like any of the dresses she picked out, but then again Erica wasn’t you, and she had a different sense of style. You look over at Bridget who was more focused on the flute of champagne the store provided. You roll your eyes and look back at Erica who was looking at you.

“You haven’t said a thing…”

“Sorry, it’s just, I’m not the one who’s going to be wearing the dress, you are. Do you like it? Is it comfortable, can you walk and dance in it?”

“I think I love this one. I haven’t loved the others.”

“Then you should get this one.” Your mom says. “You have to love it, especially at these prices.”

“Good point, this is it, this is the one.” She squeals.

You all go out for lunch after.

“When do you think you’ll wanna go dress shopping Y/N?” Erica asks.

“No idea. I have some time yet. Probably after the holidays.”

“That’s a good idea, that way that holiday weight will be gone.” Your mom laughs.

“I don’t typically gain a lot over the winter…besides I could completely change my mind and go shopping in London when Harry and I go again for Christmas.” You shrug.

“You wouldn’t want us there?” Erica asks, frowning.

“It’s not that-“

“And who would you go with? Anne and Gemma?” Your mom asks.

“Maybe. I’m not saying I would buy anything out there, but if I happen to walk by a bridal shop and see something I like I’ll probably go in.”

“Must be nice to just go to London whenever.” Bridget says under her breath.

“Well, that’s what happens when you have a real job and make a life for yourself and don’t live in your mother’s basement.” You huff.

“Y/N.” Your mom says.

“No, I’m sorry. We dance around this all the time, and no one ever scolds her for the comments she makes. I’m so sorry that your three younger siblings managed to get their shit together and you couldn’t, Bridget, really I am. But I’m not going to sit here and let you shit on the things I get to experience. And I don’t get to go whenever I want, and neither does Harry. He’d go a lot more if he could.”

“If you’re going to have an attitude like this then maybe I just won’t be involved with any of your plans.” Bridget says.

“Good, music to my ears actually.” You sit back and cross your arms.

“That’s enough girls.” Your mom says. “Neither of you really mean that-“

“It’s my wedding, I can do things how I want. Erica wanted us all here to help her find a dress, that’s great. But that might not be how I want to do things.”

“It’s not always about you.” Erica says.

“Really? Then who is my wedding about?”  

“It’s about you, of course, but it’s also about the people that love you.”

“Well pardon me for not always feeling totally loved by own my family. You know if Harry had said he wanted to get married overseas I would’ve done it in a heartbeat, and then what you have done Bridget? Mum would’ve paid for all your accommodations, and you wouldn’t even offer to pay her back.” You look away from the three of them, and then to Erica. “I’m sorry, this is your day.”

“The dress shopping part was fun…I’m happy I finally have a dress. And you know what color I’d like the bridesmaid’s dresses to be, so you can shop with your friends how you like.” She smiles.

“So are we just going to pretend you two aren’t fighting right now?” Your mom says to you and Bridget.

“She started it…s’not my fault she’s bitter.”

“I’m not bitter, I like my life just fine, thanks.”

“Mhm.” You roll your eyes. “So, what’s next, what else do you need to get done?” You ask Erica.

“Well, honestly, not much. Venue and food is good to go. The DJ has been booked. All of the stressful stuff is done. Now we get to plan the fun stuff like the bridal shower and the bachelorette. But that stuff won’t be until months from now. Don’t you have another wedding you’re pretty involved in like a month before mine?”

“Yeah, our friends Louis and Eleanor.”

“Oh, they just had a baby over the summer right?” You mom asks.

“Mhm, Eliza May, she’s so stinking cute. Anyways, they’re getting married like exactly a month before you, and I’m in her wedding party. Harry is Louis’ best man.”

“Will Louis be his?” Erica asks.

“Yeah, but he hasn’t asked him yet. We’re going to ask Niall to officiate. We’re going to take him to dinner soon to surprise him.”

“I’m surprised Harry was okay pushing things off until next April since he was so eager to get engaged.” Your mom says.

“He really wanted it to be next fall, but with all of this stuff going on it would’ve been too much. I didn’t wanna take away from Erica. Plus, I still have so many classes to take. We compromised though…”

“On what exactly?” Bridget asks.

“Well…I told him I would get off the pill a little sooner so by the time we get married we could start trying for a baby sooner.”

“Isn’t that exactly how your friend Eleanor got pregnant?” Erica asks.

“Yeah, but they just weren’t being careful. And nothing’s happening just yet. It’ll probably be another year until I get off of it. He wants a baby so badly, so I think my promise of that perked him up.”

“I think it’s sweet he wants to have a kid with you, honey.” Your mom says. “It takes a real man to not be afraid of something like that.”

“Today is technically one of our anniversaries…he asked me to be his girlfriend a year ago today.”

“Why didn’t you say something?! No wonder you’re all pissy, you should be home with him.” Erica says.

“It’s okay, we’re going to hang out tonight.” She puts a hand on the back of your shoulder and you wince.

“Sorry, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just…pulled a muscle at the gym the other day.”

//

When you get home you’re hit with an intoxicating aroma: tofu curry. Buster greets you and you walk into the kitchen.

“Hey baby!” Harry says just stirring the mixture before letting it simmer.

“It smells so good in here.” You give him a kiss. “I made sure to eat light at lunch because I knew you were going to make something yummy.”

“And I made chocolate covered strawberries for dessert.”

“Aw, remember the first time I made those for you? And you had to show me how to eat them properly.” You giggle.

“How could I forget, that was like the first time we really made out.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “How are your sister and mum? Erica find a dress?”

“Mhm, and it suits her really well. I got into it a little with Bridget at lunch, but other than that it was good, pretty normal.”

“Why’d you get into it with her?”

“Sometimes I just can’t bite my tongue, you know me. She made a comment and I chose not to ignore it. It’s fine, it happens.” You shrug. “Like I said, pretty normal.”

“Well, I’m glad you don’t bite your tongue. She’s thirty-three and you’re way more mature from what I’ve gathered.” He kisses your forehead. “Go sit in the dining room, I got it all set up with candles and everything.”

“You’re too cute.”

You go out and sit down. He set it up really nicely. A few minutes later he comes out with two plates full of the delicious curry, and the naan bread you both like.

“Mm, oh my god, you’ve outdone yourself.” You say after taking a bite.

“Glad you like it, baby.” He smirks and then he starts laughing.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just remembered what we did the night we made things official.” He takes a bite of bread and grins at you.

“Which was what?”

“You let me down on you for the first time.” You nearly choke on your food. The memory came flooding back to you. “You begged me to let you move yourself against me.”

“Harry, please, we’re at the dinner table.”

“So? Not like there’s any kids around.” He looks over his shoulder at Buster. “I know he’s a smart dog, but I don’t think he fully knows what we’re sayin’.” He winks at you and you nudge him.

“Sometimes I think it’s really silly with how timid I was.”

“You had good reason. It just made things more exciting and creative. Like sometimes I’d nibble on you and other times I wouldn’t use my teeth at all. I feel like I really got to learn what your body reacted to the most.”

“I’m happy I could help you conduct your study.” You shake your head and continue eating.

You help clean up and then you both sit on the sofa with the strawberries. You giggle as you feed them to each other. Harry slowly drags one around your lips before letting you bite down on it. He pulls you in for a kiss, sucking on your bottom lip. Your hands tug at his hair and he groans against you.

“Bedroom.” He says against your lips and you nod.

You both race down the hall and into the bedroom. You get all your clothes off and you both get onto the bed. He kisses down your body and spreads your legs apart. His thumb works your clit while his tongue licks into you.

“Fuck, oh my god.” Your head rolls back. “Been thinking about this all day, you have no idea.” He moans against you as you tug on his hair. He loved when you talked like this. “You really know what do with it, Harry, shit.” He rubs you really fast, making you come all over his tongue. He licks his lips as he sits up. “Your turn.” You grin.

He lays down and you get between his legs. You don’t waste any time getting your mouth on his tip. You suck on it while your hand works the rest of him. You cradle his balls while you take more of him in your mouth. You groan when you taste more of his precome. It wasn’t so much that you liked the taste, it was more that you loved making him feel so good.

“Y/N.” He moans. “Want you to come sit on my face.” You pop off him.

“But I already had my turn.” You say confused.

“Didn’t realize it was a one and done situation.” He smirks. “Get your ass up here.”

“Let’s do it at the same time.”

You crawl up his body and turn around so you can still suck his cock. You gasp when you feel his tongue on you again. You were a bit more sensitive now. After he makes you come again he has you lay on your back. You think he’s going to get his dick in you, but he starts fingering you instead. He spreads your legs really far apart as he curls his fingers up inside you. He takes his fingers out and sucks his pinky into his mouth before continuing. He looks down at you and sees how wet you are, and how it’s dripped down to your other hole.

“What? You’re making me self-conscious, what are you looking at?” You prop yourself up on your elbows.

“What do you say, can I get this in there while I finger you? You’re awfully lubricated for it.” He holds up his pinky and wiggles it at you.

“Okay…”

“Really?”

“Yes, but only your pinky, and don’t just stick it in.”

“Would you let me rub around it first?”

“Sure.” You put your hand on his shoulder and he looks at you. “Happy anniversary.”

“Couldn’t have asked for a better present to be honest.”

“I get to do it to you after.” You pout. “Pleaseeee.”

“Already a step ahead of yeh, I showered already and everything.”

You smile and lay back down all the way. You feel his fingers lightly graze around your little hole and it doesn’t feel that bad. You had let him rub the tip of his dick against it enough times that this really wasn’t that much different. You feel him insert his middle and index fingers back into your core to further relax you. You gasp when you feel his pinky go inside your ass.

“Okay?” He looks at you.

“Mhm.”

“Could you…unclench so I can move it?” He chuckles.

“Sorry.”

Harry uses his other hand to rub slow circles on your clit and you’re able to relax a little more. You truly weren’t sure what the appeal of doing this to a girl was, but as he continued to do what he was doing, you felt stimulated in a way like never before.

“You’re so fucking wet, you like it, angel?”

“Feels good, yeah. Make me come, Harry.”

“Yeah, you want me to make you come again?”

“Please.”

His fingers pump faster, and you grip the sheets until you cry out. He was really giving you a good time tonight, but then again, it was an anniversary.

“Can I just fuck you for a bit before we get to all the other stuff?” He says.

“I need your dick so bad, please, put it in.”

He smirks and does as you say. You both moan once he’s all the way in. You hold him close to you and wrap your legs around his waist.

“I’m gonna come if you keep your legs like that.”

“Good, I want you to. You’ll get hard again, don’t worry.” You bite down on his shoulder and he loses it.

When he pulls out he sticks his fingers right in to collect the mixture and he hold them up to your mouth for you to suck on how you like. You lap around his fingers and suck them clean.

“Yup, that didn’t take long.” He looks down at himself and you both laugh.

“Go get the towel while I grab everything else sweetie.”

He nods and grabs his towel to lay on the bed. You grab the lube and the strap and place them both on the bed. Once you get him fully prepped and stretched, you get the strap on, and thrust into him.

“Holy shit.” He groans. “Hit it right away, angel.”

“I did? I must be getting better at this.” You smile and lean down to kiss him quick.

You stroke his cock while you rock in and out of him.

“You look so fucking good like this, Harry.”

“So do you.” He grits his teeth and you can tell he’s getting closer.

“Wanna make a mess, Harry? Wanna just come all over me?”

“Fuck, yeah I do.”

His come spurts out in ribbons all over your necks, chest, and stomach. You wait for him to catch his breath before pulling out. He props himself up on his elbows to look at you.

“You’re absolutely filthy.” He tuts his tongue a few times. “Gonna have to take a good, long bath to getcha all clean.”

“I guess so.” You smile.

Harry sits behind you in the tub as you lay your head on his shoulder.

“You’re so special to me, Y/N.” He coos. “My special girl.” He kisses your temple and you look up at him. “Love you more than anything.”

“I love you too, Harry.” You give his thigh a little squeeze. “I feel really lucky.”

You and Harry barely had a fight since you got engaged. It was like you were in this new honeymoon stage where you were always on each other’s side. Not that you were looking for a fight or anything, but the two of you had just been way more agreeable lately. Maybe it was your meds doing their job, or maybe it was the excitement of planning the wedding of your dreams with your soulmate. You loved the feeling of not being able to wait to see him, and you loved even more feeling so wanted the minute you stepped through the door. There wasn’t much more you could ask for.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst fic #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut fic #angst #smut #fluff #enjoy! #feedback is always appreciated!!

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Christmas Competition

Day 5 of 2020′s 31 Days of Ficmas.  Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for the list!

Prompt: Ornament

Rating: G

Pairing: 12xRose AU; part of the Nuptial Necessity universe

Summary: Rose’s first Christmas as a Tucker drops her in the middle of long-held traditions and competitions, and is pleasantly surprised by the experience.

2020 31 Days of Ficmas masterlist  |  The Nuptial Necessity masterlist

AO3

---

“Hey.”

Rose looked up from the email she was reading to grin at Malcolm as he leaned his hip against the corner of her desk.  “Hey.”

Her husband smiled back, stealing a handful of banana-flavored jelly beans from the dish she’d taken to keeping on the desk for him, popping several into his mouth.  “How’s it going?”

“Good.”  She shrugged, glancing back at her email and determining it could wait before minimizing the screen.  Folding her arms on the desk she leaned forward, giving him all her attention. “Reservation’s at three, so Graham’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

“Great, thanks.  I’m looking forward to it – been putting the finishing touches on my design.  It will definitely be better than Clara’s.”

Rose merely shook her head fondly.  “It’s not a competition.  It’s about spending time with your daughter and reflecting on the year.  And more importantly, you owe Ace a call, so hurry up. I’ll knock when Graham’s here.”

“You’re the best.”  He took another small handful of jelly beans, before making a show of checking if anyone was watching.  They weren’t, isolated in the corner as Malcolm’s office and by extension Rose’s desk was, so he leaned down and gave her a quick peck. “Can you get Ace on the line?”

“Yes, yes, just shoo,” she waved him away, dialing from memory with one hand while the other straightened the now-askew candy dish.  Once the call was connected she hung up, leaning back into her chair as her smile fell.

His reservation was his annual meetup with Clara at a local paint-your-own-pottery place; for at least as long as Rose had known them they’d go together in early December to paint an ornament for their tree, the theme being to commemorate the year. Rose had been making their reservations since she started working for Malcolm, had heard thousands of stories about their experiences, and this year had been no different.  Except, perhaps naively, she’d expected (well, hoped) to be invited along, now that she and Malcolm were married.  Danny’s never gone, she reminded herself once again, thinking of her best friend’s long-term boyfriend.  It’s their father-daughter tradition.

That didn’t make it ache any less.

Her mobile chirped, a message from Graham saying that he was there, and she swiped at her cheeks before turning around and knocking on the glass wall; Malcolm gave her a thumbs up in response, and a minute later, appeared in front of her desk shrugging into his coat.  “Ready?”

“Graham’s downstairs,” she confirmed, offering him a small but genuine smile.  “Have fun.”

Malcolm merely blinked at her, continuing to stand there as if waiting for something while she busied herself with straightening a stack of papers.  When he didn’t move, she bit back a sigh and looked up.

“What?”

“What do you mean, what?”  His brow furrowed, and he checked his watch.  “You’re cute, but c’mon- we ought to be leaving.”

It was Rose’s turn to blink. “What d’you mean?”

Malcolm’s head tilted, expression going from confused, to surprised, to soft.  “Sweetheart, you’re coming too.  You did include yourself in the reservation, didn’t you?”

Oh, thank God. Relief quickly melted to annoyance. “Of course not,” she scowled at him. “Why would I?  You didn’t say!”

“I didn’t realize I needed to!”  He chuckled, dropping his backpack in favor of coming around her desk to crouch in front of her, putting them on the same eye level.  “Rose, my love, of course you should join us.  It’s your home, and your tree as well.  And quite frankly, we just want you to be there.  Clara suggested having you join us a few years ago, but… to be honest, it felt a little too much like trying to play happy families when you don’t love me as I do you, or so I believed at the time. I’m sorry I didn’t specify you were included, because it didn’t even occur to me to do so – I want you with me at every moment.”

Rose sniffled, tears returning for a different reason.  “Don’t do that,” she thumped him lightly on the shoulder.  “Don’t say such wonderful things to me with no warning.”

“I’m going to say wonderful things to you whenever I feel like it,” he countered, grinning, using his thumb to wipe her cheek.  “Now, can we go?”

-

Despite Malcolm’s kind reassurances, she was still nervous walking up to the pottery place, clinging to him more than usual.  Clara was already inside looking over the options, though she must have sensed their presence because she glanced towards the door just as they walked in.  Face lighting up, she hurried over to them.

“Hey, you two,” Clara greeted them warmly, pecking her father’s cheek before hugging Rose. “Hope you’re ready, because I’ve got a brilliant design already planned, and it’s going to be so much better than yours.”

“Hi,” Rose smiled in return, before turning to the hostess.  “Tucker?  Erm, party of three, but the reservation was only for two.  I hope that’s not an issue?”

The hostess, Karen, shook her head.  “Not at all – you picked a good day, we’re quiet so far.  With me, please.”

She guided them to a small table-top as Clara frowned.  “Why was the reservation for two?”  Her expression turned uncertain.  “Sorry, this wasn’t just for the two of you, was it?  I mean, you added it to my calendar-”

“No, no,” Malcolm said smoothly as they settled, “just a misunderstanding between us – all fixed now.” He turned his attention to Rose, raising an eyebrow.  “See?”

Rose’s cheeks heated, and she bit her lip before admitting to Clara, “I didn’t realize I would be invited.”

“Of course you are.” Clara looked bewildered.  “You’re a Tucker now.”

“Yeah, but… you don’t invite Danny.”

They stood up then, wandering towards the wall of potential projects, the two women falling into step as Malcolm went in a different direction.

“Maybe once we’re married, but it’s more to do about celebrating the holiday – he’s not there on Christmas morning, so he doesn’t get an ornament.  We decided years ago, once I started dating, on that rule.  Now technically I won’t be there Christmas morning, as I’ll be with Danny, but we’re actually booked to come next week just the two of us, sort of start the tradition for ourselves now that we live together.  I told Dad to make it clear you were invited now, and he said he would, but… he’s an idiot.  You could’ve just asked.”

Rose picked up a wreath ornament, confiding to it, “I didn’t want to barge my way in.  I know how special your relationship with him is, and by being your best friend and his wife and his PA, it feels like I’m always a part of what you two get up to nowadays- and did even before that, honestly- and I just… don’t want to overstep.  Or push my way in.  You deserve time just the two of you, too.”

Clara was silent as they moved down the line, and when she finally spoke, her tone was hurt.  “Are you getting tired of me?”

“What?  No!”  Rose spun to face her, surprise written on her face.  “Of course not, you’re my best friend!  I was worried you were getting sick of me!  That- that- that maybe you might start to resent that I’m always there when you see your dad!  I’m at your house, I’m at his office…  Your relationship with him is so important to both of you, and to me!  I just… I don’t know how to balance this, yet. I guess.”  She turned away, ostensibly focusing on a snowman.

“Hey.”  Clara tugged on her sleeve, forcing her back.  “You’re my best friend too.  And, yeah, it’s a bit weird, you being with my dad, but… that’s my problem.  Well, not problem, but… I know how happy you make each other.  I supported this before you were together, remember?  So as long as I don’t see anything, and we can all agree that any future siblings I have from you arrive via stork or immaculate conception, then it’s all good.  You’re not a third wheel with us; you’re our third Musketeer.  You two are my two favorite people on the planet- don’t tell Danny- and getting to spend so much time with both of you is just… mind-blowingly awesome.  You are not only welcome, you’re required.  Got it?”

“Got it.”  Rose nodded, and Clara opened her arms wide.

They were still hugging when Malcolm appeared at their side.  “Hate to break up the love fest, but can we get a move on?” he asked, impatience deepening his Scottish burr.  “I’ve got a competition to win.”

“Oh, I’m definitely going to win,” Clara said confidently, pulling away from Rose with a grin. “Bring it.”

Rose just rolled her eyes, following them back to the table.

What have I gotten myself into?  Be careful what you wish for, I suppose.

-

A week later she let herself into the town house, already shaking her head at the squabbling drifting towards her from the parlor.  Hanging her coat up she followed the noise, finding Malcolm and Clara standing in front of the fireplace, each holding a stocking and stocking holder.

“Should I come back?”

“Tell him he’s being ridiculous,” Clara ordered, not even glancing her way.  “You agree with me, right?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Malcolm protested, “she’s my wife!  She agrees with me!”

Rose just sighed fondly, setting the box with their fired ceramic ornaments on the coffee table and moving closer.  “Now now, children, one at a time.  What’s the issue?”

“Dad wants to hang the stockings up left to right by age,” Clara said with disgust.  “D’you believe this?  That would be him, Danny, you, then me.”

Rose wrinkled her nose at that.  “Eh. And you?”

“Alphabetical.  Me, Danny, Dad, you.  That way the couples are together.”

She pursed her lips, considering the idea.  “And all four of us are getting stockings?”

Two nods.

“At least you can agree on that,” she teased.  “How about Malcolm, me, you, then Danny?  Couples together, women on the inside, men on the outside?  Does it really matter, anyway?  What did you do last year?”

“This is the first Christmas with partners,” Malcolm explained.  “Or without Wallace.  He was always on the left- said it was his right as the owner- I was on the right, and Clara in the middle.  I suppose it’s possible we were getting carried away.”

Clara nodded.  “I can agree to that compromise.  Fair enough, I suppose.”

Malcolm shrugged one shoulder.  “As you wish, darling.”

“Great.  Now, I’m almost afraid to ask- is there a specific tradition involving the new ornaments I should know about?”  Rose eyed the large crate that sat innocently on the floor, appearing to be full of similar quasi-homemade decorations from Christmases past.  Considering how competitive they could be, she suspected plenty of complex rules in her immediate future.

Ever the teacher, Clara launched into a detail explanation, moving towards the crate as Rose caught Malcolm’s eye. He grinned in return, eyes twinkling, before turning to hang the stockings.  Stepping out of her heels and resigning herself to the madness she’d married into, Rose padded towards her friend, listening intently.  This was her chosen family, had been for so long really, that it was an absolute delight to join their kooky traditions.

And, when all was said and done, was honored beyond words when the trio of snowmen she’d painted as Three Musketeers hung front and center on the tree.

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #31 Days of Ficmas #31 Days of Ficmas 2020 #ficandchips #Doctor Who #12xRose #Twelfth Doctor #Rose Tyler #AU #The Nuptial Necessity #Ornament #The Christmas Competition

[mistflyer1102]

fish

Summary: A quick recon takes an unexpected turn.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"You’ve never done this before, have you?"

Etain Tur-Murkan glanced at the fisherman, a male human named Paz, who had agreed to assist them for what she hoped was for just the afternoon. Ronshin was a planet situated in the corner of the Outer Rim all by itself, which at first glance wasn't an issue. It was a generally rainy planet with unpredictable weather during two-thirds of its year, fourteen months on the standard galactic calendar, and its presence had little bearing on the major trade routes or galactic politics in general. At most, it was generally known as a pit stop for the pirates, smugglers, and mercenaries who roamed the Outer Rim, an underworld trading hub rivaled only by the system of Takodana.

Unfortunately, the system’s isolation also meant that the Separatists saw it as an ideal location for what was potentially one of General Grievous's numerous hiding spots. Omega Squad, due to their proximity, had been assigned for recon only. Master Zey had sent Etain, who was in between assignments herself, just in case the rumors about Grievous were true. The alleged base was neatly tucked away on an island in a bay surrounded by sheer cliffs. It took Etain most of the first day to find and then convince a local fisherman to help them: she had pointed out she could get in for a closer look as the security may assume she was just another local. On the second day, Omega Squad scattered to different points along the cliffs, assessing the base for signs of activity while Etain went with Paz to the docks.

At her questioning look, Paz nodded to the boat bobbing along on the water, still tied to a little dock despite the choppy waters. “You're stalling, we’ve been standing here for almost five minutes. You can swim, right?”

“I can swim, but that doesn't mean I want to," she said, glancing uneasily at the water beyond the boat. The cloying scent of fish, which she had been expecting, was a bit stronger than she had anticipated, made her stomach roll. She had recovered her taste for meat a few months after her son had been born, but seafood was still a turn-off for her. Mouth suddenly dry, she inched towards the boat. If you can handle direct combat with droids and have no qualms about getting up close to where General Grievous is potentially hiding, you can handle a small rowboat.

Paz huffed. "I’ll try to make sure you don't go over. If you have to hurl, please do it over the edge. All right, in you get, right where I told you. Keep your center of gravity low and move slow,” he said, as he followed her, gesturing to the middle part of the boat before moving to the post where the boat was tied to the dock.

Etain nodded, pressing her lips together as she carefully slid onto the boat, and then settled in the spot he had indicated earlier. Paz untied the boat, and then walked over and stepped into the boat. He then pushed them away from the dock, and began to row.

Aside from the sounds of the water gently lapping the sides of the boat, the occasional rustle from small whitecaps in the distance, the faint cry of a bird somewhere, and the creaking of wood from the oars, the bay was silent. She drew her cloak tighter around herself as she spotted the base, barely visible with walls sticking out of the island’s natural rocks, and then swallowed back another twist of nausea. “May I ask how long you have been fishing here for?” she asked, looking at Paz in an attempt to take her mind off her own illness.

“My entire life. My entire family have been fishermen and women, I’ll be training my daughters to do it soon once they are old enough,” Paz said, glancing at her. “These waters are considered to be ancestral lands, as are the farmlands surrounding the town. Inheritance can go to either girls or boys, depending on how the marriage negotiations went. You just have to keep a parcel of land, however small, in the family name somehow. It’s meant to keep families from amassing large estates through marriage alliances, no one’s got time for that foolishness out here,” he explained, gesturing first to the waters and the small inlet that Etain knew opened out to the sea, and then to the land and harbor that was slowly dwindling behind them. “The bay, of course, is communal to the fishing families, but even that is divided up amongst everyone. It definitely sucks when  you’re chasing watsi and it goes straight into your neighbor’s patch. The colored buoys out there, beyond the island, mark the patch lines.”

Etain nodded, turning to look past the island. She could see yellow, orange, and red dots bobbing along the water close to the horizon. “Which color buoys are yours?” she asked.

“Bright blue, can’t really see them from here because of the sun. Mine are a little farther out from the entrance to the bay”

Etain nodded. “What about--”

The rest of her words disappeared as a larger-than-usual wave hit the boat along with a strong waft of fish, causing her nausea to surge in her throat.

She barely heard Paz’s warning -- “Over the edge, please” -- as she immediately leaned away from him and bowed over the side of the rowboat to be sick.

For a few heartbeats, which felt like hours, she clung to the side of the rowboat, emptying her stomach. She could feel wood splinters digging into her palms, focusing on the pinpricks of pain. She was vaguely aware of a jolt of alarm from the surrounding cliffs in the Force, but she dared not move again until she was certain she was done. Even then, she remained bowed over the edge, trying to breathe through her mouth as she fought to get her breathing back under control. As her heart rate slowed back to normal again, she could hear Paz humming a song under his breath as he kept rowing, the boat still rocking slightly in the choppy waters. Spitting out the last of the bile, she wiped her mouth with the edge of her cloak before straightening again, blinking tears back as she tried to regain her equilibrium.

“I’d like to say that I’m good, but, um, fish, not really my thing right now,” she said finally, voice still faint to her ears as she nearly pulled her comlink out to tap an all-clear signal back to Omega Squad, but stopped, belatedly remembering the agreement for comm silence. She wondered how much, if anything, they actually saw from the distance they were at: she knew they had sniper scopes, but there had been no warning.

Paz grunted in response. “No worries. It happens to people out here too,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. When my wife was pregnant, she couldn’t step foot near the bay for months on end.”

Etain couldn’t help her reaction. She froze in place, bit her lip, and stared determinedly ahead, spine ramrod straight. An awkward silence ensued, broken only by the water lapping against the boat. She could sense Paz’s confusion, then his dawning realization as he kept glancing at her.

Paz then sighed. “Well, I didn’t mean to imply anything, my apologies for that, but, well, I suggest you never play sabaac, you’re a very expressive individual,” he said finally, and she turned to him in time to meet his eye. “Your secret is safe with me, I won’t say a word.”

“Thank you.” She was quiet, tempted to reach out to her son in the Force. He was lightyears away on Coruscant, undoubtedly safe, but she missed him fiercely. Does he still remember me at all? She dared not reach out to him, though: something about the little island was making her skin crawl the closer they came to it. “Is there any way we can just hover a moment? I know you said yesterday that this place has been abandoned for years, but I’m beginning to think there’s something...very not good about it,” she said, leaning forward to study the structure. She could see what looked like windows carved into the sides of the rock face with parapet-like constructs sticking out of the rock itself.

Paz huffed. “I’ll try to hang out here, but I suspect there’s a storm coming in soon. If the waters get worse, I either have to go back to the harbor or on to the island,” he said, dragging one of the oars to turn the little boat around so that Etain’s side was facing the island.

“Go back to the harbor. I’ll swim to the island.” She wasn’t going to risk his life just because she was squeamish about fish. She turned, taking her comlink and sealing it into one of the waterproof pouches she’d brought just in case of an emergency. Not that the pouch would help much if it got dunked since it was meant to protect against rain, but it was worth a try. She started to pull off her cloak.

“What about the kid?”

Etain glanced at him as she wrapped the cloak into a bundle. She was grateful she had thought to wear long-sleeves today, she could feel the cold winds biting at her exposed hands and face. “I’m doing this for him, his father, and his family,” she said, setting the bundle aside as she eyed the distance between the boat and the island. Lightsabers, as she’d learned a long time ago, held up just fine underwater. The water is probably going to be cold, lovely. “And if it turns out to be Separatists, they’ll be gone before they cause you and your family any trouble,” she said, catching a glimpse of the colored buoys in the distance. She could sense both anticipation and curiosity coming from the commandos: she was going off-script now, but she had to wing it. The original plan had been that she would assess what she could from the water, but the Force was too cold, too thick and oily to be coming from someone who was not Force-sensitive.

General Grievous could wield lightsabers, he had fast reflexes, but according to survivors, he did not resonate in the Force the same way Force-users usually did.

Keeping low to the boat, she pulled out her underwater breathing device and slipped it on. She sensed Paz leaning to the opposite side of the boat to keep it level, and then once she felt him steady himself, she then slipped over the edge of the boat and into the water.

The cold water stole her breath away, causing her to instinctively gasp in her throat and create an uncomfortable tightening in her chest, but she forced herself to remember to breathe through her mouth, not her nose. For a moment, she allowed herself to float weightlessly in the deep, dark waters.

Then she pushed forward towards the oily presence that she could sense ahead.

#etain tur-mukan #nausea #star wars #mistflyer fanfiction

[nexstrik]

Three Ways To Skin A Fox

Summary: Ahri is in heat. Kai’sa and Evelynn help out. Shit gets REAL weird when 3/4 of your kpop band are monster girls.

Disclaimer: I know this isn't how Kai'sa's second skin works in canon but in KDA verse I'm assuming it's just like Venom. She's got a horny lil symbiote.

Though I took great pains to establish consent, this is still an "in heat" fic and if that concepts squicks you, just exit out.

Rating: EXPLICIT

You can also read this story on AO3

Waking up with a fever wasn't reason enough to cancel a show. She'd worked through worse, and the venue was sold out. It sounded cold but the truth was, how she felt didn't really matter. She had to give the same level of energy, the same stellar performance, to each and every one of her fans. Because while this might be the tenth show on tour for Ahri, for them, it was their one and only chance to see her.

She had to make it count. She owed it to them.

Still, once the last metaphorical curtain fell, Ahri's feet left the ground.

"Come on, missy," Kai'sa said, carrying her backstage. Ahri allowed her, ears drooping as she rested her head against Kai'sa's chest. "We're getting you into comfortable clothes and then you are going to sleep."

Her pride wasn't so fragile that she'd pretend to be okay in front of her bandmates. No performance necessary here.

"Thank you," she rasped. She tucked her tail in, holding it over her lap when they moved through a doorway. Every inch of her ached fiercely, and the worst part was she didn't even know what had gotten her sick. Some combination of stress and travel, probably, but that didn't make it any less annoying.

"Oh, shit." Akali's voice floated nearby, popping in and out from every direction as she hovered anxiously around Kai'sa. Kai'sa's stride never wavered, walking steadily despite Akali doing her best impression of a cat that wanted to trip you up. "Is she okay? Did she actually faint? I knew we should have cancelled!"

"I'm just tired," Ahri mumbled into Kai'sa's chest. "Kai'sa doesn't need to carry me." But she didn't try to struggle free.

"Akali, sweetheart," Kai'sa interrupted. "We're going to slip out the back. Can you run interference?"

Akali snapped a salute. "Sure, I'll run back onstage and take my top off. No one'll even notice you're gone."

"Don't—" Kai'sa and Ahri started at the same time, but after spinning her dull prop kunai around her finger once, Akali bolted back down to hallway to the main stage.

"There's a car waiting outside. I'll have food and medicine sent to the room," was all Evelynn said.

Once outside she walked to the car on her own two feet. There wasn't a mob waiting for them outside the back entrance, thankfully. Just one or two diehard fans. Kai'sa had to drag her away before she could get caught in the endless loop of can I have an autograph?

It made her feel worse, being ushered away from the people who were supporting their music, who needed her. But she understood it was necessary. She had to do her job, and right now her job was to recover.

Kai'sa sat in the backseat with her, holding her as she shivered and sweat. She tried to get her to drink but Ahri refused, shifting onto her lap so that she could be as close to her as possible.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"You've done nothing worth apologizing for." Kai'sa was firm. She stroked a hand over Ahri's head, following the curve of her folded ears. "Ahri, you take such good care of us. It's a pleasure to finally return the favor."

It was a rare treat to be spoiled for once. Even if she trusted the other members of her band, she wasn't often openly affectionate. But now she suddenly couldn't get enough physical contact, and Kai'sa was all too happy to oblige. A long, hot shower together and some solid food did a lot towards helping her recover.

But when she collapsed on the bed and Kai'sa curled up next to her, she had to put her foot down. "Kai'sa, no. You'll catch whatever I have."

Propping herself up on one elbow, Kai'sa rolled her eyes. "I'll probably catch it anyway. We spend literally all day every day together, babe."

They did share everything. Ahri had slowly let them in her band. On occasion, in her bed. And always, in her heart. Maybe with anyone else, it would have been suffocating. But with her girls, Ahri couldn't imagine living any other way.

Kai'sa rolled onto her stomach, tank riding up a bit and exposing her lower back. Ahri's eyes were drawn to shimmering metallic scales. The second-skin could press flat as silk against Kai'sa's body or fill out into those alien shapes that often hovered behind her, when she wasn't actively trying to hide them. They were warm to the touch, almost rubbery, though Ahri knew they could harden to be stronger than steel.

Kai'sa wiggled a little until Ahri snuggled closer. The logistics of having a massive fox tail meant she was usually the big spoon, and she never minded. Whatever was in the cold medicine knocked her out, and she lost the will to push Kai'sa out of bed.

Instead she let herself be weak. Just for a night. Just for now.

Just until she felt better.

   The smell woke her up.

Blinking blearily, Ahri pressed a hand to her hot forehead. Still feverish. And her skin felt tender to the touch; she flinched just from running a palm over her stomach. The night before was a blur, but she remembered falling asleep next to Kai'sa and she remembered Evelynn sending food up.

That...didn't explain the scent. It was everywhere, much stronger than the vegetable soup she'd had last night. While Ahri had a sharp nose, she couldn't place it. All she knew was that it was good, tempting enough to fully rouse her. Sitting up, her tail flicked from side to side, curiosity making her ignore all her symptoms.

Beside her, Kai'sa mumbled. "Please tell me it's not time to wake up yet."

"It isn't." It was still pitch black outside. The darkness and quiet of the pre-dawn hours pressured her voice into a whisper.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she smiled to see Kai'sa sprawled out on her back. She'd always been a fussy sleeper, and Ahri thought she looked so pretty with the blankets tangled around her. Ahri pushed them a little further off, stroking a hand up Kai'sa's thigh.

At first Kai'sa flinched, then she giggled, opening one eye. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah." Forgetting her concern about getting Kai'sa sick, she leaned down and kissed her. Kai'sa flinched again, opening her mouth to the kiss more out of instinct than anything else. Sweet and soft, she responded with caution, and as always Ahri stopped to check in. "Is this fine?"

"Better than fine," Kai'sa said, hand curling around the back of Ahri's head. She pulled Ahri into another kiss, slow and tender like the first one. It was all sensation in the darkness, self-consciousness rubbed away by languor. "Are you wearing that peach perfume I like?"

It took her a moment to respond. Kai'sa felt warm against her palms, hot enough to burn through her low fever. Slipping both hands under her shirt, she traced the thin lines of Kai'sa's second-skin where it wrapped around her rib cage. It trembled, slowly parting from Kai'sa's body to allow direct touch. "Mmm. No."

Kai'sa gasped into her mouth, squirming when Ahri reached up to touch her breasts, keeping it whisper-soft until her nipples grew firm from the attention. She pinched them, heat flooding between her legs when Kai'sa moaned her name.

She smiled.

Kai'sa forced her up just far enough to yank her sleep shirt over her head, then drew Ahri back for another kiss.

"You feel so good today," Kai'sa growled, silvery second-skin pooling around her throat. It roughened her voice, lust making it coil in senseless patterns. Once or twice it passed over Ahri's hands, nudging and curious like it had its own mind, directing her to where Kai'sa wanted to be touched. "Ahri, did you throw your charm on me?"

Finally, something lanced through the haze of her mind. Her tail flicked, once. "No?" Ahri said, a little upset. "You'd know if I was doing that, trust me. Why?"

Kai'sa was shaking underneath her, visibly struggling to maintain control. She twisted, thighs pressed tight together, squeezing hard. "Because I feel like I'm about to come and you've barely touched me."

Stunned, Ahri sat back on her heels.

"...Oh, no." When Kai'sa made a curious noise, reaching out to bring her closer, Ahri squeaked. She flailed off the bed, landing in a poomf of suddenly sprouting tails. "Oh, no!"

Furious, she went rummaging through her bags for her cellphone. Opening it up, she double checked the date, going to her calendar for confirmation. That was when she noticed her nails, carefully manicured, had turned into twisted, long black claws.

"Is everything okay?" Concerned, Kai'sa stood nearby, keeping her distance. Her second-skin hovered over her shoulders, separate but psychically linked, always close by. "I'm so sorry, you're obviously still sick, I shouldn't have..."

The sound of her voice prompted a full-body shiver in Ahri, from the points of her ears to the tip of every single tail. The aches had faded with Kai'sa distracting her, but now that Ahri was clear-headed again they returned full-force.

"It's not you," she groaned, waving her arm to try and dismiss the extra tails. It took a bit of effort, but they folded up one by one until Ahri was back to normal. "It's me. I'm in heat."

Both 'wings' perked up when Kai'sa gasped, before immediately folding flat against her spine in sudden embarrassment. Kai'sa seemed to shrink too, shoulders hunching in. "Oh! Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault." I'm just an idiot.

Every year around the same time, Ahri would diplomatically excuse herself from all her duties. When properly isolated, her heat would pass and go without event. Ahri used it as an excuse for a little vacation, to avoid burnout. Those few weeks off every year kept her from going mad.

But this year, by chance or by some biological quirk, it had come early. And Ahri had been completely surrounded by the three women who loved her, by an entire stadium of people who adored her and wanted her. It was no wonder she'd been triggered into a full-blown cycle.

Carefully, tenderly, Kai'sa cupped Ahri's face in her hands and tilted her head back a bit. "What can I do?"

Fuck me, was the immediate, obvious answer. The elephant in the room. But she couldn't, she shouldn't. Even if it wasn't a full-blown charm, the force of a gumiho's heat could act as an intoxicant, blurring the lines of consent, and Kai'sa already had so many hang ups over her bare skin being touched, and Ahri couldn't, she wouldn't.

She clenched her eyes shut, burning red-hot with embarrassment. "Something cold to eat. Would make me feel better. And please hold me as much as you can. Because otherwise this is going to be very, very painful."

Kai'sa nodded, kissing her again. Once more, passion flared up between them. A raw, wet want, like a bloody heart pulsing in her fist. Swallowing it back, she pulled away and fell onto the bed with a groan while Kai'sa ordered room service.

Carefully angling her tail to the side so she wouldn't crush it, Kai'sa settled in behind her, snuggling her and stroking her stomach. "Like this?"

This was the worst day of her life. "Yes."

Ahri pulled a pillow to her chest, holding onto it and hiding her face in the fluff. Laughing softly, Kai'sa pulled out her laptop and set on a movie. With that to distract them both, it was a little easier to ignore all the aches and pains, and the deep, unfulfilled want inside of her.

This would have to be enough. At least until the worst was over and she could think clearly. She kept glancing at her phone, too, huffing at last night's commotion. "Akali and Eve are all over instagram and twitter," she said. "There's already gifsets."

Kai'sa propped her chin on Ahri's shoulder. "Of what? Don't tell me she actually took her top off."

"See for yourself."

Ahri played a video of Akali slinking back onstage, waving down fans who were trying to leave. "Hey, hey," she said into her mic, "Do we have to end the show just yet?"

Off-stage but still speaking into her mic, Evelynn's dry voice answered. "Yes, Akali. People have homes to go to. The venue needs to close. Be considerate."

"Okaaaay," Akali sighed. "But I have one last question..."

She pulled up the hem of her shirt, showing a slice of tanned skin.

"...Does anyone want this shirt? It's kinda sweaty and I don't wanna wear it anymore."

Whoever was recording started shaking their phone violently from there on out. Any other dialogue quickly got eaten up by fannish squeals, and the clip ended. So Ahri went hunting through the tags for the rest. In between gifsets and other videos they saw the whole thing.

Evelynn marched on stage, scolding Akali.

"You can't just toss your clothing into the crowd!" she said, tugging Akali's shirt back down to a loud chorus of boos and hisses. Then a sharp glint entered her eyes as she surveyed the fans. "...That's not fair to the people sitting all the way in the back."

Ahri sighed as the crowd went ballistic again.

Those two were dangerous when left to their own devices.

After selecting a random girl from the audience, Akali and Evelynn invited her on stage. They gave her a big hug and took a selfie facing the crowd, and yes, they gave her a shirt. Not the one right off Akali's back, thankfully.

"Well that explains why no one bothered us on the way out," Kai'sa said, voice mild. "Where are they now?"

No messages in the group chat, but more searching through twitter painted the rest of the story. There were a bunch of tagged photos of Akali and Evelynn out at the afterparty, and the after-afterparty, and finally one of them in their hotel room. Evelynn stood in the foreground with a finger pressed to her smiling lips, Akali's t-shirt in hand. Meanwhile Akali dabbed in the background, stripped to her boxers, a sports bra, and her socks. It didn't show any more skin than the gym selfies she sometimes posted, but the context was definitely more scandalous.

Sorry girls, the caption read, but this belongs to me.

"That's enough ship fuel to power the fandom for the rest of the year," Ahri said, somewhat in awe.

"I don't know about that." She could almost hear Kai'sa's frown. "It doesn't seem like a good idea, encouraging people to ship us."

Ahri's tail waved a little. "It's harmless." The photo was timestamped at 3AM, so about an hour before they'd woken up. "And at least we know they made it back to the hotel safe."

Privately, she was also glad because it meant the other two would probably sleep in. Ahri wouldn't be the only one bedridden. Locking her phone, she sighed again, this time in exhaustion.

Quiet for a moment, Kai'sa kept pressing kisses to the back of her neck, and her shoulders. One free hand stoked her tail, partly to maintain contact and partly to ensure it stayed over Ahri's hip and not sticking back, where one of them might lie on it and pinch it. "Maybe you should have stayed with them."

Kai'sa's breath was hot on her ear, making her whole body clench with need. "Hmm? Sorry, what?"

They were still pressed close together, but suddenly it felt like a great distance had sprung up between them.

"Um," Kai'sa said, "I mean, you'd probably be more comfortable having sex with Eve, at the very least."

Twisting around in Kai'sa's arms, Ahri looked up at her.

The knock on the door made both of them leap apart. Room service, of course. They'd taken their sweet time. Ahri tumbled over the edge of the bed again while Kai'sa went to answer it with a smile and a bow. She returned with a pair of spoons and a cup of yoghurt laden with fruit and thick syrup, spread her legs into a wide vee, and patted the space between them.

"Sit," Kai'sa said. "I have rules about food in bed, but I think we can make an exception this time."

Ahri sat, her back to Kai'sa. Her insides squirmed, every inch of her screaming yes, yes, yes, she wants it, she told you she wants it.

Angrily digging into the yoghurt, she began to mutter. "I'm just trying to do the right thing, here. I don't want you to fuck me and then when we snap out of it you're disgusted and, and you hate me."

She inhaled the whole glass, and it did make her feel better. A little bit. If Kai'sa was bothered by Ahri hogging it all, she didn't voice it, instead trailing her fingers up Ahri's thigh. "So I'd be fucking you, huh."

A second tail popped into existence, both of them waving excitedly, and Kai'sa laughed.

Trying to do damage control, Ahri stammered out, "I-I don't need to exclusively...receive. But this is a conversation we should have had a long time ago! You shouldn't feel obligated to do this. Especially not now when you're..."

Her words turned into a choked groan when Kai'sa dared a little higher, petting her over her shorts. The second-skin rolled down Kai'sa's forearm, covering her hand like a claw-tipped glove.

"When I'm...?" she prompted, silver claw rolling over a growing wet spot in the fabric.

The glass clattered out of her hand and onto the floor. Gripping the sheets, Ahri braced her feet on the bed, panting loudly. "Fuck, Kai'sa!"

All her self control shredded in an instant. Her hips surged up, seeking friction. But the instant she did, Kai'sa retreated. Denied, a rush of fury washed over her, nails shredding right through the blankets. She was being toyed with, and the darkest, basest part of her wanted to snarl and howl and bite in retribution, her pride demanding some sort of compensation for the injury.

Every breath came out in a labored huff, until slowly, she regained control.

Holy shit.

She'd never had a reaction like that during her heat, not since the one time she tried riding it out with Evelynn.

"This isn't a game," she said at last, through grit teeth. "I-I'm not safe like this. Kai'sa, I'm not myself right now."

She should have known better. She should have locked herself up. But she just had to be weak for once, didn't she? The one time she asked for help, instead of dealing with this on her own like she was supposed to, and now Kai'sa was teasing her without knowing the danger and Ahri was clutching to her last shred of sanity. Trembling, she waited for Kai'sa to react, or to say something, or be mad at her. But all she did was rub slow, soothing circles on Ahri's shoulders.

"You know, this... thing..." Kai'sa lifted her hand, and the second layer of her skin gathered into a sphere. She tossed it into the air. Upon landing back in her palm, it splashed, spreading over her entire arm again. "Gets overprotective, and it hurts when it moves without my permission, but it does have some perks."

"Oh," Ahri said, still panting. "I see."

"Mmmmhmm," Kai'sa said.

"I don't actually see," Ahri admitted, "I just said I did and hoped you'd explain anyway. I'm kind of functioning on one brain cell right now."

She shook with peals of laughter, wrapping her arms tight around Ahri's waist. Ahri immediately started purring, cuddling back against her chest and nuzzling her head under Kai'sa's chin.

"I mean you can't intoxicate me with whatever sex hormones you're obviously worried about, and there's a reason you've never seen me bleed," Kai'sa explained. "You do know I'm not totally human after what happened to me, right?"

Guilt, again. Even for things she didn't do, for things she had no control over, she carried guilt. She wanted to protect Kai'sa, wanted to rip open time and pluck her from the things that haunted her. It was a powerful urge, wishing there was someone, anyone she could punish. She never wanted Kai'sa to hurt like that ever again. She never wanted to hurt Kai'sa. She never wanted to hurt Kai'sa.

"I'm s-sorry," she said again, her body still so hot and sensitive, so overwhelmed that for an instant she wanted to turn her claws on herself. "I just don't want...to h-hurt you."

"You can't," Kai'sa promised her, gently turning her head so she could kiss Ahri's temple. She worked off her sweat-soaked shirt before setting Ahri's hands on her thighs, squeezing them once. "Poor thing. You're burning up."

When Kai'sa's lips pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses against the back of her neck, Ahri lost control again. Claws flexed on instinct, the tips resting right over Kai'sa's bare thighs. But instead of the bloody rush of flesh sundering, her claws sunk into the thick, rubbery mass of Kai'sa's second-skin. It had rushed down Kai'sa's body the moment it felt a threat.

Capturing Ahri's hands, it ensured she couldn't push them in any deeper... but she also couldn't pull away.

Stuck, she started to try and tug free, heart hammering. "My teeth," she said, one last feeble warning.

"Can I muzzle you?" was Kai'sa's simple solution.

"Yes!" she cried out, arching back against Kai'sa's chest. She didn't even know how Kai'sa planned to do that, and she didn't care. Not when Kai'sa's hands were on her breasts again, massaging them until the ache turned into pleasure. She was so wet now that her thighs were sticky with it, her tail rippling in shudders. "Yes, yes."

Carefully, another tendril of the second-skin wrapped around her mouth. It pressed tight and smooth, clinging like latex. The surface was warm as flesh, pulsing with Kai'sa's heartbeat.  Probing between her lips, it asked a question. Ahri answered by relaxing her jaw, and she let Kai'sa inside.

She groaned around it, twitching in surprise when it stroked and pulled at her tongue. That shouldn't have been as hot as it was. If she weren't ravenously horny she might not have allowed it, they might not have tried it, but she was and they did. And it fit between her teeth perfectly. It gave way when she growled and bit down into it, exploring her mouth in lazy strokes.

"I won't go too deep," Kai'sa assured her, as if she gave a damn at this point. Slipping a hand down Ahri's pants, Kai'sa kissed her temple again.

Ahri was so wet there was hardly any friction when Kai'sas fingers slid over her.

"...Oh my god," Kai'sa's voice rumbled, in shock and delight. She did it again, firmer this time, and Ahri closed her eyes and let out a muffled squeal. Sighing in satisfaction, Kai'sa rested her fingers over Ahri's clit. Her hand was trapped between hot, wet flesh and tight fabric, and every idle movement made Ahri see stars. "You feel amazing."

Urging Ahri to lift her hips, she worked her pants down until they were tangled around one ankle. "Legs over mine, sweetheart."

Every inch of her relaxed into Kai'sa's arms, her head comfortably tucked underneath her chin, her back to Kai'sa's chest. Spreading her legs out, she hooked them over Kai'sa's ankles, baring as much of herself as she could.

"You let me know when you've had enough." Kai'sa stroked her swollen clit, the relief so sharp it was like agony. "I'm going to keep my hand right here where you need me. And I want you to rub against me until you come."

That was easier said than done, with her hands tied and her neck forced back by the second-skin and her legs just a little too wide to comfortably brace herself on the mattress. She growled again, struggling for release with every movement, bucking and thrusting against Kai'sa's hand.

Pressure built slowly, rising up behind her eyes until suddenly all she could see was blinding white light. She moaned around Kai'sa in her mouth, shuddered in Kai'sa's arms, her cunt pulsing with Kai'sa's fingers rolling slow, soothing circles around her. She eased Ahri through her orgasm, keeping every touch gentle but her hand far enough away that Ahri had to strain to reach her.

Her hips dropped, breaking contact so she could recover. Body drenched in sweat, Ahri let the cool air brush over her like waves as her fever finally broke.

Pressed to her back, Kai'sa's chest rose in a short laugh. "Are you okay?"

She removed the gag so that Ahri could answer. A long string of spit trailed from the edge of her gasping mouth to the silvery second-skin, and Ahri coughed, once. "That was fucking amazing."

They both laughed then, a ripple of giggles that they couldn't have fought off if they wanted to.

A warm breath huffed against her ear. "You don't smell all peachy anymore. Was that it? Are you better now?"

"It's more like a refractory period." With most of the initial tension burned away, she was a lot less squeamish about getting into the nitty-gritty with Kai'sa. After all, Kai'sa didn't seem turned off by the whole thing. Ahri pressed a palm to her jaw once her hands were freed, rubbing the tender ache there. "It'll come back uh, about, three or four times every few hours."

Kai'sa made a noise. "Hmmm! That's... hmmm."

"Thorough?" Ahri suggested with a weak smile.

"I'm surprised there's not more gumiho in the world," Kai'sa finished, somewhat diplomatically.

It was probably the only reason there were any gumiho, given how reclusive and aloof her people could be. That was a line of thought for another day, however. More immediate questions needed to be answered. "Do you want to leave? Trust me, I'm well-equipped to handle the rest of this on my own."

When she twisted around, Kai'sa had a single brow arched. "Still so keen on getting rid of me, I see."

"I'm giving you an out," she stressed, a little irritated now. "Whatever subtext you're wringing out of this or whatever you think I'm trying to say, please stop, and listen to what I am actually saying. I don't want you to feel used."

"That's a shame. Because I'm really in a mood to be used."

Her mouth went dry. And as neutral as she tried to keep her expression, Ahri's tail started thwapping enthusiastically against the mattress.

Kai'sa laughed again, and Ahri felt more foolish than ever. Grabbing her tail, she held it to her chest and scowled, turning around to fully face Kai'sa. "You're still mostly human!" she huffed. "I'm allowed to be concerned!"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed." Kai'sa reassured her with a smile. "It's just... oh no, poor me, forced to make love to my beautiful girlfriend who needs to be pleased for hours and hours."

Ahri smirked, and rubbed her jaw again, pleased to note the soreness had faded already. "Don't promise hours if you can't deliver hours, Kai'sa."

Kai'sa hooked her chin in one hand, angling Ahri closer. "I can deliver."

She kissed her before Ahri had a chance to snark back. When she linked their hands together, the second-skin slithered off her palms and onto Ahri's. They clung all the way down her forearms, forcing her hands above her head, clasped as if in prayer. Pushing Ahri down on her back, Kai'sa left her mouth free this time.

Ahri punished her for it, a low rumble leaving her chest as she nipped Kai'sa's shoulder. The second-skin responded at once, leaping to her defense and into Ahri's mouth. Opening it wide now rather than forcing it shut, nothing muffled Ahri's cries as Kai'sa stroked her firmly, putting her body weight behind every touch.

Grinding on top of her, Kai'sa stripped herself down quickly so her bare sex was pressed to Ahri's thigh. Eager to give back, Ahri tried to push up against her, moving together so she wasn't the only one being pleasured.

The binding around her hands prevented her from doing more, but trust was a fickle thing, and animal instinct could prove stronger. Exchanging freedom for safety was better, and feeling Kai'sa work her way to a sudden climax was just as rewarding as doing it herself. Wetness coated Ahri's thigh, dripping all the way down to her knee, and hearing Kai'sa groan in release sent Ahri spiralling again.

"Don't stop," she gasped when Kai'sa freed her mouth to check in. "Nnn, more."

More was Kai'sa thrusting three fingers inside of her. Every other word became lost in a purr or a growl, language forgotten in favor of instinct again. They fit so perfectly together, every inch of coiled muscle in Kai'sa unleashed like a flood as she pinned Ahri down and fucked her the way she needed.

A third orgasm washed over her, leaving Ahri completely serene with the reward of doing what her body was built for. In the wake of that, even when the haze of lust lifted, Ahri just laid on top of Kai'sa and purred.

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her face against Kai'sa's chest. Her claws had shrunk back to normal, soft and pink and human-looking. Still longer than usual, but that could be fixed with a quick trip to the salon.

A flick of her phone confirmed it was still fairly early in the morning. "We should probably eat something."

Kai'sa's hand slid down her back, squeezing Ahri's ass. "I'll get around to that eventually."

Laughing in shock, Ahri lightly slapped Kai'sa's shoulder. Sitting up, she straddled Kai'sa's waist and didn't fight the sparks that leapt up at every brush of skin against skin. "Well, while we're still rational enough to order more food, we should."

Soft palms stroked over her thighs, Kai'sa's fingers rubbing soothing circles, higher and higher, until she met wetness. "Yes. Though I'm a little disappointed, Ahri."

Ahri's ears folded, slightly. "Oh?"

"You said you'd use me. And here I am, feeling distinctly unused."

Every part of her perked up at that, tail standing straight with excitement. Shuffling a little higher after asking permission, she carefully knelt over Kai'sa's head, a low trill of pleasure continuously rumbling in her chest.

"Am I going to have to muzzle you again?" Kai'sa asked, eyes locked on hers even as she turned her head to the side, licking a wet stripe along Ahri's thighs. The muscles there shivered at the attention, her clit aching to be touched next.

"I think the worst is over, maybe," Ahri said. Then she lifted her hands up. "But, um..."

"Say no more." They coaxed Kai'sa's second-skin to wrap around her chest. Arms bound again, Ahri focused all her attention on maintaining her balance. Kai'sa pulled her closer, hands on her ass and setting the pace.

This was less frantic. Less scratching an itch and more enjoying the act itself. The trust in it, in having the second-skin shifting over her breasts like a pair of hands as Kai'sa sealed her lips around her clit and sucked.

Ahri didn't even know when the fog of her heat clouded all her inhibitions again. Just as she started finding a proper rhythm, her mouth started working all on its own. She purred to Kai'sa, urging her on in a lower voice than usual, a litany of filth making her rock harder against Kai'sa's tongue.

One, two, three, four five. Kai'sa's hands grew tangled in a mass of fur; Ahri relaxed enough to lose control of her tails again. Neither of them complained, though Kai'sa didn't seem to know where to grip any longer until she settled on Ahri's hips instead.

"This is what I wanted," she admitted to Kai'sa in between little gasps, biting her lower lip, tongue flicking out to taste the second-skin when it caressed over her chin.

It left a numbing tingle now as it travelled over Ahri's body, cooling down the worst of her impulses. Some part of her knew she and Kai'sa had more in common than they wanted to admit. There was the hunger of a dark void in them both, an appetite difficult to acknowledge, one never indulged in.

Once she'd gotten this far along with Evelynn — the last time she dared to take a partner during heat — Ahri had almost ripped her to ribbons. Not that Evelynn minded terribly. She sealed the deep gouges on her back, and pressed a thumb to the bites on her neck and shoulders and lips, and had smiled that too-bright smile and asked for more.

Ahri didn't remember a lot of that night. She remembered the next morning, though. Waking up with blood under her nails and coated to her palms and thighs, sticky with it. The flash of terror at what she might have done. Not being entirely soothed by Evelynn snuggling up next to her and licking her hands clean.

As for Kai'sa... there was definitely more to the second-skin than just a desire to protect its host. What more could be was still unknown, but Ahri trusted her, as much as she trusted Evelynn, and as much as they trusted her.

Right then, more was keeping her from hurting anyone, and so she loved it.

She shivered, wanting to sink down, all the way down. Wanting to flatten herself like the second-skin and press against Kai'sa. It would be so good to wrap around her and settle somewhere under her heart and never let go. Instead she rocked once, twice against the flat of Kai'sa's tongue and came with a little cry of loss.

Even after her hands were freed she stayed there, kneeling over her and whimpering on every other exhale. Ahri tangled her fingers deep in violet hair, smoothing it out of Kai'sa's eyes. Satiety made her lethargic, not wanting to move or do anything except sit with the full, unbearable weight of how much she loved this girl.

There weren't any words for it.

Then the door swung open, the automatic lock whirring. Akali arrived with an armful of plastic bags, waving her extra key card in the air. "Knock, knock, ladies! Sorry to wake you but I have medicine and..."

When Ahri locked eyes with Akali, she shifted subtly. All nine of her tails flared out behind her, arched and flexing, sensually twisting past each other. She must seem absolutely feral like this, a predator crouched over her last kill, eyes glowing in the dark.

Pure molten fire rose up in her fiercely, pushing its way up to the top of her head so fast she reeled.

Squeaking, Akali dropped her bags and dipped out, slamming the door shut. In just a few seconds Ahri and Kai'sa's phones both rang, and some of the haze left her as she laughed and sat back.

Wiggling off of Kai'sa, Ahri grabbed her phone and opened the message.

I am soooo sorry, I should have knocked!

Black claws flexed on her hands. Her whole body was trembling from a mixture of exhaustion and an arousal so deep it ached. After a few responses failed, Ahri gave up trying to type and called her.

"Akali," she said, shocked at how different her own voice sounded like this. Raw from shouting and pleading, and deep, and hungry. Always hungry. "I need you to do me a favor."

  When the door opened again later, it was Evelynn's cool voice sounding out, amused. "Looks like you've been careless, gumiho."

Bound hand and foot this time, Ahri had somehow been shuffled to the edge of the bed with all their movement. Arching her head back so that it tilted over the edge, she saw Evelynn standing there in the doorframe, upside down. She had one fist on her hip, one lasher coiling out to flick on the lamps.

Ahri groaned in the sudden brightness. She winced even as Kai'sa moved up to lie beside her, kissing the side of her neck as one hand gently explored between her spread legs.

"Eve," was all Ahri could say. A plea, and an apology, and a cry for help.

Evelynn responded by pacing closer, grasping one of Ahri's breasts in her hand and kneading it indulgently, slowly, possessively. In just a single move somehow she had projected the sense that she was something Kai'sa was just borrowing for now. It enveloped her in flames, bringing her higher with one touch.

Ahri closed her eyes tightly, glad she had asked Akali to fetch their other bandmate, but at the same time burning up with embarrassment at needing her help.

"It smells like fresh blood in here," Evelynn said, framing her nipple in the curve between thumb and forefinger. "Did she hurt you, Kai'sa darling?"

Kai'sa smiled, shaking her head. "Just one tiny bite."

"That's good." She bent down, capturing Ahri's lips in a kiss. Ahri drank it up, every muscle straining against the second-skin keeping her bound. Evelynn kissed her again, before pulling back just enough to feel warm breath on her lips, squeezing her breast harder now. "Let me have a taste, gumiho."

She did. Even if it was Kai'sa's hands fucking her, it was Evelynn who pushed her to the edge once more, every sound muffled by the mouth over hers and the harsh pull of Evelynn's powers. She was being drained in two directions, she realized, the worst of her fever cooling down just by the presence of them both.

Afterwards, panting and tonguing the smeared lipstick away from the crook of her mouth, she wondered why she hadn't tried this sooner.

"Hi," she managed in a ragged gasp, once her head had cleared. Then she groaned when Kai'sa draped herself over Ahri's body, kissing up her chest, soothing the red claw marks Evelynn had left behind while she was twisting in the throes of pleasure. "God, you're going to start it up again."

"That's the plan," Kai'sa said cheerily. "Though I'm wondering if we won't need Akali's energy to wear you out."

"That might not be a bad idea," Evelynn said, her phone out as she typed a quick text. "I am curious to see how she'll react to the scent of you. If she can withstand it..."

Lowering herself, Evelynn sat next to Ahri, still bound on the bed. She kept her legs off the edge, crossed at the knee as she examined Ahri. She was smiling, most of her lipstick gone after Ahri had practically licked it off.

"I don't think the amount of blood I scent can be chalked up to Kai'sa's love bite," she said, her hand cool as she cupped Ahri's chin. "What do you smell, Kai'sa?"

"Peaches," Ahri and Kai'sa answered at the same time, and shortly afterwards there was a knock at the door.

Akali peeked inside, a flustered smile on her face. "Can I come in? Eve, uh, got me up to speed on what's going on. Is Ahri okay?"

"Come see for yourself," Evelynn urged. Then, to Kai'sa, she suggested, "Go get some water. Take a break. I'll handle this."

Something about her cool confidence, how utterly unrattled she was by all of this, did a lot to calm down Ahri's racing heart. She felt so much better with Evelynn here helping mediate her heat.

Reluctant at first, Kai'sa finally let Ahri go after a quick kiss to them both. When she tried to get to her feet she wobbled a bit, knees giving way as she made her way to the bathroom.

"Holy shit, I can't even walk," she muttered, laughing in disbelief. Her voice grew faint as she shut the door behind her. The hiss of the shower starting up drowned out the rest.

Turning her attention back to Akali, she realized the other woman was keeping a wary, respectful distance. That was cute. Ahri rolled over so that she was on all fours. Her higher brain knew she ought to greet her properly, maybe ask if Evelynn had really explained what was happening. But the sight of Akali twisted up everything inside of her so that she couldn't speak properly.

Instead she extended one hand, claw-tipped, and beckoned her closer.

Akali exhaled in a shudder, brown irises eclipsed by blown-black lust quicker than she thought possible. Marching over to them, she tugged her shirt over her head along with her bra and was hopping out of her pants when Evelynn stopped her.

The lasher wrapped around Akali's waist, lifting her until she was off-balance on just one tip-toe. They gave off a plush velvet appearance, when Evelynn deigned to have them on display at all, but Ahri knew the lashers were warm as flesh, and stronger than steel. The sharp edges could break through solid concrete if Evelynn were in a foul mood; they were more than strong enough to restrain Akali.

"Akali," Evelynn said, voice a warm suggestion.

Akali's dark eyes, focused intently on Ahri, twitched to Evelynn at the sound of her name.

"Tell me where we are."

A slight furrow creased between Akali's eyes. "The... hotel," she said, but she didn't sound sure.

"Which hotel, my love?"

Akali didn't have an answer for that one. Instead, her eyes slowly angled back to Ahri, whose little bubble of arousal was slowly draining away by the realization of what was happening.

"Do you know what year it is?" Evelynn tried next.

"Does it matter?" Akali mumbled. "Fuck, I don't know. I can't remember."

"Oh, wow." Ahri sat up, guilt piercing through any lingering desire she might have had. "She's gone, isn't she?" Gone in a way Kai'sa very clearly hadn't been.

"I'd say so." Evelynn kept her tone conversational, another lasher joining the first to keep Akali bound, and from doing anything she might regret. "Akali, my love, I need you to be a good girl and sit still for me. Just for a little while. When your head clears I'll ask you again."

The way Akali deflated would have been comical under most other circumstances. "Okaaay," she complained, then quieted down when the soft purple length of Evelynn's lasher wrapped around her eyes. She inhaled deeply. "It smells good in here."

"That's because someone has been very negligent about her nature," Evelynn said, giving Ahri a pointed look.

Squirming in guilt, Ahri averted her gaze. Still, her thighs pressed together, need more urgent than anything else. "That's why I called you, Eve. Are you going to do something about it or are you just going to scold me?"

The response was Evelynn's hand whipping out and grabbing her by the neck. Pinned face down, Ahri only had enough time for a single whine of complaint before Evelynn was kneeling over her, whispering in to her ear.

"This is what happens when you ignore what you are," Evelynn said, flexing her clawed grip once. "You put people in danger. You put my human girlfriend in danger. And then I have to come and clean your mess. Do you like that, Ahri? Do you enjoy it?"

Her tails served as a poor buffer between her and Evelynn. And despite everything, they could not stop touching her, coiling and snaking past Evelynn's thighs and wrapping around her waist.

She knew anything she said would just be an excuse, and a weak one at that. She knew that she'd been careless with Akali, and with Kai'sa, too. She'd given so much of herself to others that now all she could do was take. She knew that she was the weak one today, and that she needed Evelynn to be strong because she couldn't, and she knew that Evelynn was only mad because she was worried, but god it only turned her on even more. Ahri could sense Evelynn's conflicted feelings in the pulse beating close to her own, all those emotions laid bare.

"...Don't act like a brat," Evelynn finally said, when it became clear no answer was forthcoming. "Tell me what you need."

When she craned her neck sideways to see where Akali was, she found her comfortably and safely zoned out in Evelynn's embrace, the lashers keeping her docile and subdued.

"Whatever you can give me," Ahri answered honestly.

Evelynn's free hand swiped roughly between her legs, coming back dripping wet.

"God." Sounding a little shocked, Evelynn seemed to forget herself as she touched her again. Her voice went lower, genuine desire in her voice bullying past the anger. "...It's been a long time, hasn't it, gumiho?"

Years. As careful fingers circled her stiff clit, Ahri's claws flexed into the mattress, long since ruined. Add that to the list of things she needed to take care of and fix when this was done, add it to the bill for someone else to clean.

The pressure on her back mounted, Evelynn resting more of her weight on Ahri. "Was it so bad, being with me?" she murmured, petting her clit with one hand, petting her ruffled fur with the other. "You hated it this much? You'd rather lock yourself away, or risk Kai'sa."

"No," she whined, arching her back. All of her tails stroked and curled around her sinuously until Evelynn batted one of them aside, impatient. All but one folded in, leaving her on display for Evelynn to touch again. She wanted desperately to explain, but for a while the only thing she could manage was another low, tortured moan. "Of course I don't like it, Eve! I don't like needing it. But I do need it, I need you to fix it, I need you, please."

With Kai'sa she could relax enough to take the edge off, but deep down she knew that she could only properly succumb with Evelynn. Kai'sa could mitigate her, but Evelynn could take everything she had to give.

That demanding grip moved from her neck to the base of her tail, squeezing it until she cried again.

Temper soothed for now, Evelynn swung right back to low amusement. "Are you going to come for me again so soon?"

"Yessss." She bowed her head, shivering helplessly as she did just that. Head to toe, a frisson of electricity uncoiling from within her and taking her out. Boneless, Ahri slumped down onto the sheets again, humming in delight as the heat cleared from her.

"What number was that?" Evelynn wanted to know. She made Ahri hiss when she worked her fingers deep inside, pushing her limits. Ahri twitched when Evelynn's head dipped down, her tongue dragging out over her shoulder. "Seven...? Eight? Mmm, I can taste it on your skin."

Ahri shrugged, still exhausted and wiggling from the overstimulation. "I don't really like to keep count when I'm like this."

"I remember you got to sixteen with me."

She flushed at the memory. "I'll take your word for it."

A rustle of fabric and flailing limbs made them both look up as Akali finally seemed to snap out of her stupor. She grunted in confusion, wincing when Evelynn let her drop to the floor.

"Ow!" Akali sat to the side, rubbing her behind. "What the hell just happened?! Did Ahri use her freaking charm on me?!"

"I did warn you before you came inside," Evelynn said. "Looks like you couldn't hang, baby."

"I can hang!" Akali insisted, pounding a fist on the floor. "I just wasn't expecting a face full of sex magic!"

"Lightweight," Evelynn teased. "Still want to give it a shot now that you know what you're in for?"

Suddenly a little more subdued, Akali's eyes dropped. Then she peeked up, almost shyly, and stammered, "U-uh, is there a way to dial it down just a little? Cause as insanely hot as this is, I'm also a little freaked out right now."

"Not..." Ahri cleared her throat. "Not really."

She stared at Ahri a little longer, wide-eyed. Then Akali sulked, blushing bright red all the way down her chest. "Then I'm... gonna check on Kai'sa, she's been in the shower a long time."

Getting up on shaking feet, she vanished into the bathroom as well and shut the door, loudly. Ahri winced a little, guilt stinging again.

"Sorry," Evelynn said.

"I'm not offended." Ahri rubbed her forehead, fatigued. "Just feel like a monster."

"You are a monster," Evelynn reminded her. "But you don't need to hide it, Ahri. Not from us." One finger angled her face up, gold eyes guarded but tender. "Not from me."

Ahri bit her lip, not sure what to say.

Then she bit Evelynn's, kissing her hard.

Evelynn allowed it, deepening the kiss until they were both scrambling to undress her. Even someone like Evelynn wasn't completely immune to her influence... not discounting the possibility that Evelynn would have wanted this anyway, of course.

"Don't hold back." Evelynn's eyes shone with their own light, the hint of fangs in the corner of her lips making Ahri kiss her again, and again. "Come on, gumiho. Take it. I know you can."

It was furious, fucking someone when she didn't have to worry about hurting them. Evelynn matched her blow for blow, snarling in her face when black claws dug in deep into pale skin. Ahri's ears flattened against her skull in response, two monsters struggling for a connection however they could, wresting it from this moment.

She was purring when she came again, but her bared teeth and gasping mouth made it come out as a raspy growl.

One moment of clarity shone through it all. Evelynn rose up on all fours over her, stopping long enough just to admire her. A hand passed through her hair, shockingly gentle in contrast to the blood running down her throat.

"You're so beautiful," Evelynn said, thumb pressing over her own mouth to stem a cut from where Ahri been too careless.

Release was close again. The stamina heat provided her didn't leave room for teasing. Unending desire kept her in place, wanting more and more and more, until the fever ran its course.

"Can you end it?" she asked, hushed. "Can you... you know. Eat it? Until there's nothing left? Make it end early?"

A curious glint entered her eyes. "Is that what you want?"

Ahri nodded tightly before she could change her mind, while the rust in her mouth kept her distracted from anything else. Until a sharp, sudden cry from the bathroom set her on high alert, Akali's familiar voice shouting out Kai'sa's name.

"Ah." Evelynn smiled at her knowingly. "I have a feeling the shower will be occupied a while longer."

She couldn't even share in the joke, shaking furiously, her lust renewed by the knowledge that someone else was touching Akali, her Akali. Even knowing it was Kai'sa didn't help, because she belonged to Ahri too. They all did, they were hers, they were hers and she needed them—

A voracious mouth, not human at all, sank into her. Pulling deep, Evelynn locked Ahri in her arms, twisting one leg up sharply so that they were pressed together. Wet flesh slid against flesh, the hard, wonderful friction of Evelynn's clit rubbing right above hers. Trying for a better angle, she twisted and arched, shouting in surprise at the sensation of a serpentine tongue entering her mouth.

There was fire then, in a way she'd never known before. The way the hottest temperatures burned blue and white instead of the mellow sunset hues she'd taken for granted. Evelynn was a star, something that should have remained distant, suddenly altogether far too close. White and violet flames enveloped her, fangs puncturing deep into Ahri as she took her own pleasure.

Ahri felt it rush through her as if it were her own. She crested the peak, hovering in that moment just before orgasm... and lingered there uncomfortably long. Release felt like a noose, suddenly. It wrapped around her throat like another set of hands— and with a jolt, Ahri realized that it wasn't just her imagination or Evelynn's powers at work. Her lashers, very physical and very real, were twisting over her shoulders and her chest and her throat, binding her like velvet shibari. All aesthetic, no restraint.

Instead of a cozy descent, her climax just climbed higher. Ahri forced herself not to fight it, heart fluttering in a panic, holding Evelynn closer for comfort. Evelynn held her down, forcing her to ride it out. Higher, higher. Rushing between her and her lover in an endless figure eight. Left with no other outlet, she raked her claws down Evelynn's back, prompting her to shiver and moan her name.

That was when she crashed. She shattered, screaming, sobbing. Her leg twitched, kicking, as she took fistfuls of Evelynn wherever she could reach her. Thick and tangled in her violet hair, or running down her back again, or clutching her ass and forcing her closer because Ahri wasn't done yet, not by a long shot. Not as long as she could still feel the orgasm rippling through Evelynn, her cunt aching to be filled.

Then, sharply, the connection between them was severed.

She felt everything funnel out of her, scooped hollow, left to rattle with nothing remaining inside.

Evelynn was glowing above her still, the energy around her swollen and indolent as a well-fed serpent. She kissed Ahri one last time, tenderly, and that was when she passed out.

 When she woke up, someone had drawn the covers up over her shoulders. The room was dark again, the clock telling her it was late in the evening.

Nearby, she heard conversation. Drained and limp, she sat up long enough to blink at her bandmates sleepily.

"Hey, sleepy girl," Kai'sa said, noticing her first. "You're up sooner than expected."

"Tired," was all Ahri could say.

Akali landed next to her with a heavy thump. She stroked the top of Ahri's head, squeezing her ears a bit. "I bet. Eve said she drained you dry."

"Per Ahri's request," Evelynn said, in a gentle but firm way that made Ahri think this wasn't the first time she'd had to remind them of this fact.

They were all fully dressed, sitting around the table with what looked like boxes of takeout. It smelled good, but not as good as the bed felt. So Ahri curled up around Akali, holding onto her hand and kissing it once.

"Aaaand she's out," Akali said, her voice faint.

Evelynn's amused rumble. "She definitely smells like normal again, so I think we're in the clear."

"Oh?" Akali sounded surprised. "If you say so, I guess."

Kai'sa made a curious noise. "What did she smell like to you? I never got a chance to ask."

A small laugh. "Uh, same as always, I guess.

"She smelled just like home."

#KDA #LOL #fanfiction #xeksplicit #fellas is it gay to use your symbiote as a muzzle #AHRI HAS BIGASS SHARP FOX CLAWS AND SHES GON RIP U UP #we're going. FULL foxgirl objectification.

[platypus-quacks-too]

Hi!!! I'm asking again for another prompt cause I'm a big fan of your work, my prompt is about the new episode, the reason why Amy planted the book is because she is already pregnant and she wanted Sheldon to be ready...

Note: I did not forget about the older prompt from you and others, it’s just this one clicked more with me and I had a better idea. Clearly, fluff is the way here. I am happy I managed to write anyway, but I hope you guys will enjoy it. You can also find it on ff net as The Dreamlike Progeny Revelation.

Amy closes her eyes and tries to put herself to rest. She’s a bit envious of Sheldon, who fell asleep so quickly after their goodnight. She assumes physics is not as good as her worries to keep someone awake. There is so much going on in her mind right now to even hope to sleep anytime soon.

Her hand naturally goes to rest on her belly as she relives the past day. She loved to see Sheldon getting more comfortable around the younger Wolowitz just as she was pleased with the ingenious way she had found to bring him there. On the other hand, her plan had worked only part way through: it didn’t give her the chance to tell her husband about their own progeny currently growing inside her.

Sure, he really did have fun with the little ones today. She almost burst Into tears watching Sheldon rocking Michael to sleep, or melting in a smile because the baby had taken his finger. And while that book was only meant to be a way to reach her goal, she has to admit it has a few very interesting experiments. As a neuroscientist, observing and testing the wonder of the human development was absolutely fascinating, and she had been the first to suggest to Sheldon how their offspring should have the potential to be even so remarkable.

Now everything is different. Only a few inches below her hand there is a baby. Their child. Will she probably think to carry out some test or closely report all of its progresses growing up? Very likely so. But now she mostly sees its bright eyes and tiny hands, and all she can think of is to keep it safe from the world.

She knows Sheldon is going to love their kid immensely. She also knows how her husband works. He had never been comfortable around little humans, so it felt natural to try to have him relating with babies more gradually than hitting him right away with the news of the upcoming parenthood. What better occasion then spending some time with their friends’ little bundles of joy? Sheldon can get used to them first, and maybe stop considering toddlers and infants merely as test subjects that cry and poop.

So far so good, except of course for the fact he still insists about multiplying like rabbits. She squeezes her belly slightly as a funny thought popped into her mind. What if there are actually twins down there? Or maybe triplets? Having one baby is scary and exciting enough. Three? It is way more than she thinks she can handle.

Sheldon mutters something in his sleep.  “Professor Einstein, you are forgetting your coat…!”  He adds then.

Amy shakes her head before looking down, “Four of you? It sounds fun…!”

She turns toward Sheldon and smiles. “I probably better try to get some sleep now,” she says again to her baby, “We will think of something else tomorrow.”

She moves closer to him and snuggles into him, her face buried in the crook of his neck. The smell of baby powder is already soothing her as she pulls him closer. He seems to be sleeping sound; nevertheless, Amy feels his hands moving on hers and his legs entwining with her own. In no time she slips into sleep, feeling safely enclosed with her little growing family.

*

Einstein left a while ago, so now Sheldon is wandering around not sure on what to do, or where he is. He has been walking down a long corridor for what it felt a lifetime, until he finally finds something worth mentioning: a pink door with a tiny cartel saying ‘Subject #1’. More intriguing, someone drew a line over the writing.

He decides to enter the room, and it gets… odder. A toddler is sitting right in the middle of it. She looks busy with a bunch of building blocks.

“Hi Daddy,” the baby girl greets him.

“Daddy?”

She doesn’t seem to be bothered by his father’s puzzled tone. “I am your child, Marie,” she informs him, “Don’t you recognize me?”

Sheldon tentatively shakes his head. “I have mama’s eyes, the Cooper’s hair?” She tries, “I am named after your favorite female scientist but you tell grandma it’s after her?”

Sheldon takes a moment to better observe the little girl. Amy’s green eyes sparkle over an angelic face framed by chestnut curls. He doesn’t know many toddlers except of the Wolowitz ones, but definitely he can say she is a very pretty little girl.

He moves closer and it suddenly occurs to him she shouldn’t be talking the way she does.

“How old are you?” He asks abruptly, “You shouldn’t be talking this well already.”

She switches the two blocks she was focusing on over the last minutes before answering, “I am two, and I can properly talk because I am super smart, obviously.”

Sheldon can’t hold a satisfied grin. Too bad Marie contradicts him already, “To be honest, I can talk because this is a dream, and I am just an expression of your subconscious. You didn’t believe I was that smart, did you?”

“Don’t you get sassy with me, little lady,” he scolds her, “I am your father after all. Or the conscious to your subconscious, you name it.”

“I get the sass from mama. You like that in her.”

Sheldon sits with Marie. What better proof it is a dream than the fact he willingly sits on the floor?  “I do, but we don’t tell her,” he then admits. She smiles in return, and Sheldon thinks that’s another thing she got from Amy.

They remain silent for a little while. Marie continues to handle her blocks while Sheldon observes her mesmerized.“So, haven’t you figured out it yet?” She finally asks once she has done.

“That you have been writing our super-asymmetry equations with those? Of course I have.”

“I don’t mean this. It doesn’t even take this much imagination to figure it out,” she replies, “I meant something else. Look at that,” she adds, pointing somewhere behind Sheldon. He turns and looks in that direction: a calendar?

November 7, 2021.

“It’s almost three year in the future,” Sheldon observes, “I got it! We are inside a virtual reality simulator! Can I get to the commands?”

Marie sighs. “To be exact, we are two years and eight months from your present, and no, this is not a virtual simulation. C'mon daddy, it is so obvious! Are you sure you are a genius?”  She mocks him.

Sheldon is too disappointed to be bothered by the snarky remark. “What else can it be? I can’t think of anything better.”

Marie insists, “For instance, have you noticed anything weird with mom lately? Like stumbling upon a book about experimenting on babies.”

“I realized she did want me to find the book,” Sheldon confesses, “But I know it was only because she didn’t want to admit she wanted to experiment on Halley and Michael. Sometimes people tell us it isn’t really moral to conduct trials on our friends. I know, they are crazy,” he adds once he sees Marie is shaking her head again.

“It wasn’t because of this. Well, it wasn’t only because of this,” Marie concedes. “Think harder: have you noticed mom felt sick almost every morning in the last couple of weeks? Any emotional lability?”

“Oh, what a nice word, lability. You don’t hear it enough.”

She ignores the unrequested parenthesis and continues, “And have you noticed she went missing for most of yesterday…? Do you remember what happened six weeks ago?”

Marie has stressed the last question weirdly. Well, as weird as it can possibly sound for a toddler who is talking like an adult. Trying to focus on her question, Sheldon takes a moment to remember. He quickly turns pale when he realizes what she is hinting at.

“You and mom made love, and you were so into the role of a reckless Gryffindor that-”

“Don’t say it!” Sheldon interrupts her, “I won’t discuss such things with… well, with you.”

“Remember I am not really your daughter, but only your subconscious,” she answers back, “Don’t be shy.”  

“I am not shy. It’s just-” It is a bigger deal than discussing coitus with a self projection of himself in the form of his future daughter. What she is implying… No, it can’t be. Even in the robe of a reckless wizard, he knows he has been careful, especially when Amy does her best to bewitch him.

But even admitting he somehow lacked on precautions, has what they are suspecting really happened? Sure, Amy lately complained of some morning sickness and ate a whole bowl of chocolate ice cream in one lump. Yes, she did disappear for whole day and behaved weirdly even since she got back home. But what is weird anyway? She is weird enough to have married him.

“So, you got it?” Marie urges him.

Sheldon takes a deep breath and still hesitates before being able to say that. “Are you saying you- Amy is pregnant? With you?”

Marie casually shrugs. “You are saying that,” she says. Sheldon remained speechless.

“I am hungry,” she adds then, “You should feed me,” she declares standing up and reaching out to Sheldon.

“Feed?”

“You cut some watermelon for me and then let an airplane fly in my mouth. I may be a product of your mind, but I still need to be fed like any other toddler.”

Marie’s big eyes stare at him. She may be talking like a 40 year old, but those puppy eyes are those of a child. His child. Now everything he can think of is landing watermelon cubes into her mouth.

He stands and takes the hand of his little girl. Lord, she is so tiny next to him. He realizes she is looking up at him.

“I can’t wait to meet you, dad.”

*

It feels bittersweet waking up. He hates to be taken away so abruptly from his girl- um, that marvelous product of his subconscious. On the other hand, he has found himself wrapped in Amy’s arms, who breathes peacefully on his neck and holds him tight in her sleep.

Just as he closes his eyes back to enjoy his wife’s embrace, Marie’s words echo in his mind. What if she is right? All those things he noticed himself but didn’t pay attention to before…

Carefully, he turns around to face her and plants a kiss on her lips.  

“Mmm, I like this,” she mutters with a grin, “You should wake me up this way more often. How’s that?”

“I will. I- I had a dream,” Sheldon starts saying, even if he realizes that saying out loud what he is thinking is so scary.

“Marie appeared in my dreams. She was writing the fundamental equations of super-asymmetry with building blocks and made me think about the book we found in the library, and your morning sickness, and that whole bowl of ice-cream you had the other day…”

Amy is pretty sure her heart stopped for a short while. Did he find out…? Also, why Marie Curie is making her husband realize she is pregnant?

“Marie? You mean Marie Curie?” It’s all she can ask back.

“No. I mean, I saw her earlier with Einstein-” he interrupts as soon as Amy raises her eyebrows, “Anyway, it wasn’t her. It was our daughter.”

The very way her eyes widen… oh boy, Marie is right. “Amy… she implied a thing. She suggested that last month, when we made love-”

“She told you the truth.” She doesn’t even know how, but the words just flow out of her. “She- he, whatever… it’s here already.”

Good thing he is lying already or he would have been falling down like a sack of potatoes in no time. Even if a part of him knew it before, her explicit admission is a lot to deal with.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He eventually manages to say.

She can’t help but feeling a little guilty because she hid her pregnancy for two whole days. She kisses him before apologising, “I- I am sorry. It’s just… you always say how sure you are we will have super-smart children, and today you reiterated the idea we will be able to follow their growth on a scientific point of view, and making experiments with them…”

“Maybe they will be super-smart,” she continues, “And the experiments are fun and I can’t wait to redo a couple of the ones we tried today. But before telling you… I needed to be sure you will want to hold our baby in your arms, or feed it, or change the diaper, and love it no matter what.”

Maybe he wasn’t ready for all of these just the same. Maybe he will never be. Or maybe she was wrong the whole time and he just can’t wait to sing Soft Kitty to the little thing currently living in her belly.

“I dreamed she asked me for watermelon and that she wanted me to play the little airplane to land it. Once she asked me- That’s all I wanted to do then.” Sheldon thinks he wants to caress her belly but eventually takes her hand and gently squeezes it, “She also took my hand and I think my heart almost exploded. I didn’t care about her intelligence or any trial I could even try with her. I only wanted to hold her and eat watermelon together.”

This is enough for Amy to dispel all her doubts. Oh, silly Amy. If marrying Sheldon ever taught her something, it is was how full of love her husband is. Today is no exception. He will be a great father, won’t he? Even if there will be a cognitive test from time to time.

He holds Amy closer and kisses her forehead. “Do you think there’s a chance for twins?” He asks hopefully.

Amy sighs. Here he is again…! Of course, she won’t admit to him she had the same thought.

“We won’t have twins because you need a control group,” Amy jokingly scolds him.

“I wasn’t think of that…Well, that’s a positive side effect,” he confirms, “But I mostly want to have many little versions of us… of you.”

“Very good save,” Amy concedes, and Sheldon smiles back proudly.

#The Big Bang Theory #shamy #shamy fanfic #fanfictions #prompts #lu writes

[nolookfive]

i will be your home, keep you warm when it’s cold

okay so! this one is for @dmigod​ because i wanna make her cry, @fourdrinkamy​ for giving me the idea to roll with the life calendar thing and also @elsaclack​ because i had a mental block and then i went back to read her fics and motivation hit me like a ton of bricks so thank u wizard em! cya later if you wanna yell at me for this then you know where to find me.

Jake doesn’t understand how his life manages to find loopholes to screw him over. He’s been through pain before; the pain of his father leaving, the pain of being separated from Amy for six months in the inexplicably cold heat of Florida, the pain of being separated from Amy again in the hellhole that was prison. He knows Amy felt that same pain; she told him about it one Tuesday night after a long stressful day where nothing was going right and an emotional breakdown was on the cards after Scully spilled a jar of coffee beans everywhere.

He knows she felt it. And he knows, just like him, she hasn’t felt this type of pain before. And he wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, ever.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Exactly seven months and four days after their wedding, Amy sits on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the counter impatiently. Her hands twitch, resisting the urge to reach up and twist her hair into wild braids.

It wasn’t as if they didn’t want children. They’d had that talk well before they got engaged. It was more the fact that Amy wanted to at least become a lieutenant before they even considered trying. Jake was aware of this and fully understanding - he’s been around her life calendar for years now. He knows what her plan is and he respects it.

But things on her life calendar haven’t necessarily gone fully to plan. Marriage was further down the line and that happened sooner than she expected. And a baby? Well, to be fair, they hadn’t exactly been very safe lately. By the time her second alarm went off at 6:45am, Jake’s hands would already be tugging her underwear down her legs, his lips ghosting over her neck.

“Who cares if we’re not at work on time?” he’d mumble as her third alarm went off, capturing her moans with his lips. The only problem with that third alarm, though, is it would be the same time she takes her birth control. And when she’s preoccupied in...certain ways, she tends to be just a little bit forgetful.

But this is first time she’s been over a week late.

She lets out a huff, standing up to see how much longer she has to wait when he phone lets off a jarring ring, signalling the end of the two minutes. She quickly turns it off and takes a deep breath, reaching for the small white stick when suddenly the bathroom door opens and Jake comes barreling in.

“Hey babe, have you seen my-” he stops, his eyes immediately drawn to the packaging next to the sink and the test just out of Amy’s reach. She stares at him, panic setting in as she watches him process exactly what she’s doing.

“Is that - is that what I think it is?”

Amy swallows. “Yeah.”

“Is it - I mean, are you-”

“I - I don’t know. I was just about to check.”

He can tell she’s freaking out, her eyes as wide as a deer in the headlights. He cautiously takes a couple of steps towards her and reaches for her hand, his thumb running circles into her palm. She looks up at him then, her heart slamming against her chest, and she thinks about this minuscule piece of plastic sitting behind her, potentially holding a result that could change their lives.

“Hey,” he says softly, his other hand stroking up and down her arm. “It’s okay.”

“I...” she starts, then shakes her head. “If it’s positive - I mean, the life calendar-”

“Amy, the life calendar hasn’t exactly gone to plan, has it?” he interrupts, holding up his left hand pointedly, a plain gold band sitting on his ring finger. “I mean - we wanted this to happen at some point, right?”

“Right, but-”

“But what?”

“What if I can’t do it?”

Jake stares at her incredulously. “Are you insane? You’re Amy. Remember that jar of Armenian pickles Charles had in the fridge last week that he claimed was impossible to open?”

“Are you seriously comparing this situation to Charles’ lack of strength?”

“Oh my god.” Jake rolls his eyes. “The point is, you did what no one else could. You’re strong as hell. And if you think you can’t do that,” he points to the test, “I know you don’t like being told you’re wrong but in thiscase, you’re wrong.”

She studies him for a moment, then closes her eyes and leans against him, her forehead resting against his collarbone. “It might not even be positive,” she mumbles.

“Only one way to find out,” he replies, “do you want me to check it?”

“Yeah.” He pulls away, kissing her forehead and reaches around behind her, picking up the white stick. She’s scared, anxious, nervous, and somehow excited all at once. She watches him as he holds the stick up, his eyes scanning the length of it before looking intently at the spot that would change everything. His lips curl into a small smile as he turns the stick around.

And she’s met with the tiniest pink plus sign she’s ever seen.

“Looks like you’re gonna be a mom,” Jake says, watching her eyes well up as his smile gets bigger.

She can’t respond, the tears falling freely as she stares at the test incomplete awe. She has less than a second to compose herself before the excitement kicks in and she lets out a soft laugh, Jake’s arms going around her waist and pulling her to him tightly.

“We’re gonna be parents, babe,” he whispers into her hair, his lips pecking the skin behind her ear. She’s still speechless, wondering how two steps on her life calendar managed to happen in less than a year when she thought she’d had everything planned out. Jake leans back, his hands coming up to cup her face and kiss her gently. She melts into him, her hands curling against the collar of his hoodie, pulling him closer to her.

“We’re actually having a baby,” she says, more to herself as a confirmation that holy shit this is actually happening.

“Yeah we are.” Jake lets his hand drift down to her stomach. “You can do this, Ames,” he whispers, kissing her again. “I know you can.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

They tell their parents first, Jake’s in person and Amy’s over Skype. Camila Santiago instantly bursts into tears the second Amy holds up a picture from their first scan, their baby barely visible at only seven weeks but it’s there.

“Now, Amy, you need to start eating more fruit and vegetables. This way, your baby will be a girl and we need more women in this family, mija!” she cries, clapping her hands.

Needless to say, they ended that call fairly quickly(mostly due to Amy’s sudden lack of patience and the waves of irritation that have hit her in the last two days).

Karen and Roger are much more tame, letting out a collective gasp as Jake hands them the ultrasound photo. Roger slaps a hand against Jake’s back while Karen settles on the sofa next to Amy, studying the fuzzy print.

“Looks like you’re gonna be a dad just like me, bud!” Roger exclaims. Jake resists the urge to tell him to fuck off, ignoring the rage building up inside him when he shoots a look over at Amy.

“You’ll be better,” she mouths, giving him a small smile.

They tell Captain Holt next.

There was no build up to it, Jake had insisted that Holt doesn’t appreciate beating around the bush (Amy should know this, she’s halfway through binder number two of their mentoring program) so when they sat down in his office one Thursday morning, the easiest thing for all of them was to just throw it out there.

“Amy’s pregnant!” Jake blurts out. The room goes quiet, Holt looking back and forth between them, briefly glancing at Amy’s stomach hidden beneath her new navy blazer she intentionally bought one size larger.

“Congratulations,” he spoke, “make sure you take it easy from now on.”

“Don’t worry, babe,” Jake whispers as they leave his office, “he’s definitely stoked that his two best detectives got it on.”

“Shut up,” she groans, slapping a hand against her forehead.

And finally, they tell the squad. 

Charles had organised another detectives-only weekend away, this time at a holiday home owned by Genevieve’s distant cousin. By this stage, Amy is nine weeks pregnant. She’s been feeling nauseous for the last week and a half, and every second day has brought her headache after headache. The small bump beneath her shirt isn’t super noticeable but she feels it, absentmindedly letting her fingertips trace over the hard skin when no one else is watching.

She’s sitting at the island in the kitchen talking to Terry about an old case when she glances over at Gina, who is staring at her with narrowed eyes. Amy instantly knows what she’s looking at, she can see Gina doing the math in her head - the sick day she had the week before, orders of decaf coffee, denying free sushi from the deli down the street - and Amy can almost see a literal light bulb flashing above her head. She knows.

Gina smirks, disappearing into the kitchen and emerging less than a minute later holding two full wine glasses. “Alright, girl,” she says, plopping down on the stool, “which Amy are we going to see this year? I’m personally thinking Nine-Drink Amy should come out of her cave. Don’t get me wrong, Eight-Drink Amy is an icon, but we are minus a horse so we’ll have to make do without her.”

Amy glares at Gina as she slides one of the glasses in her direction, knowing she has to think of an excuse and think of it quickly.

“Actually,” she begins, sliding the glass back towards Gina, “It’s...only 4 o’clock. Some would say it’s too early.”

It’s code. Don’t say anything.

“Too early? Come on, Santiago, we’re on holiday!” Terry exclaims. “Treat yourself!”

“What are you guys talking about?” Jake asks, a slice of pizza in hand as he heads towards the fridge for another beer.

“Just trying to offer old Amy here a drink but for some reason, she’s not in the mood for an alcohol buzz,” Gina answers, her voice threaded with tease.

Jake whips around, his cheeks full of the cheesy crust he just stuffed his face with. “Why-mmph,” he grunts, quickly swallowing. “Why you doin’ that, Gina?”

“My sweet Jacob, some of us come on these trips to relax. Much like Terry and Charles, I come on these trips to get away from my kid. But also, I thoroughly enjoy witnessing drunk Amy,” Gina explains, giving him a knowing look and Amy can see it click in his eyes.

“Now, Amy, are you sure you don’t want this wine-”

“Gina,” Jake says sharply, making everyone look at him. “Stop.” He circles the counter, his hands running up his wife’s back to rub at his shoulders. “Ignore her,” he whispers in her ear.

“Alright, what’s going on with you two?” Terry asks, his voice suspicious as Rosa and Charles walk into the kitchen for a refill.

Amy glances over her shoulder at Jake with a defeated expression. “Let’s just tell them,” she sighs.

Charles gasps. “Did you finally try that couples hair-washing class I sent you the link to? Didn’t I tell you, Jake, it’s the most erotic thing ever, Genevieve and I tried it and-”

“No, Charles, that’s gross. I deleted that entire conversation, even my phone was traumatized.”

Charles frowns. “So what is it? You’re already married. And Amy can’t be pregnant, Jake said that’s further down your life calendar and we all know how strict you are with that, there’s no way you could...”

He trails off when he sees Amy bite her lip, resisting the urge to smile. He sees Jake’s arms curling around her shoulders, hugging her from behind as Amy’s hand presses against her bump again, which is much more noticeable now that all eyes are on her.

“No way,” Rosa deadpans, the sound of Charles hyperventilating filling the room.

“You’re - but you - and Jake - and - parents?”

Amy nods. “I’m nine weeks.”

“OH. MY. GOD!”

And then he passes out.

“Cheers to that,” Gina says, raising her glass.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

She’s ten and a half weeks pregnant and everything is fucking annoying, from Jake’s concerned gaze on the other side of her desk, to Charles giving her daily lists of multivitamins. She knew she’d feel a little tired but she had no idea that growing a baby would exhaust her this much and drain all of her energy.

“Can you guys please leave me alone, I’m fine,” she’d insisted, slumping in her chair and letting her eyes close for a second. The next thing she knew, she was being carried into her apartment and tucked into bed, her husband pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead and promising to call her later.

That was hours ago. The sunlight that shone through their bedroom windows had dimmed, the sky outside a deep blue with fluorescent spots of yellow from the street lamps below. She managed to get some sleep, cuddling the soft mink blanket to her chest as her hand runs across her stomach continuously, hoping her tiny nugget is as comfortable as she is right now. She’s about to doze off again when she hears the front door close and a set of keys being dropped on the bench. She waits for him to come to her, knowing that he’ll fuss over how she’s feeling and once again she roll her eyes and tell him to relax.

When he opens their bedroom door and peeks at her around the frame, the look in his eyes is mischievous. “Hey babe,” he says softly, “you feeling better?”

She stretches slightly. “Mmm, heaps better.”

“Good.” He pushes the door open, walking towards the bed holding a plain brown paper bag in one hand.

“Oh god, what is that?” Amy sighs as he sits down on the bed.

“It’s not bad,” he starts, watching her as she sits up, “it’s just a present. For you. Well, for the baby. And us. More for us, I guess.” He reaches into the bag and pulls out the smallest police onesie Amy has ever seen, laying it flat on the comforter in front of them. She lets out a gasp, reaching forward and letting her fingers trace the stitching of the soft material, her eyes tearing up for the fifth time today (damn those hormones) as she picks up the matching beanie, nuzzling her cheek against the fluffy material.

“So...you like it?” Jake asks, adjusting his position to curl his arm around her waist.

“Babe, it’s so cute,” she giggles, “where did you get it?”

Jake shrugs. “Charles and I were bringing in a suspect for questioning and we passed this baby store. It looked like it had just opened so I thought I’d go in and have a look on the way home and...yeah. The girl that worked there practically threw it at me when she saw my badge, said it was ‘fate’ or something. I think she was a bit of a space head. Brooklyn is full of weirdos.”

Amy smiles, kissing his cheek. “Even if she is a space head, this is perfect.”

“Our baby is gonna be so cool,” he mumbles, leaning forward to rest his cheek against her growing stomach. “You hear that, kid? You’ve got a badass detective for a dad and the prettiest sergeant for a mom. You’re already awesome and you don’t even know it.”

Amy cards her fingers through Jake’s hair as he continues to talk to the baby, their baby, feeling her face wet with tears she didn’t realize had fallen.

“Fucking hormones,” she mutters.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

She’s eleven weeks and three days when it happens.

Her eyes open wide, giving her no time to adjust to the darkness of their bedroom when she feels a dull but strong cramp in her lower stomach. She’s been feeling them for days now and all the baby books she read told her it was normal and just her body’s way of adjusting to the baby’s growth. She blindly reaches for her phone, the light of her lockscreen telling her it’s 1:49am. She groans quietly, rolling onto her side, hoping to relieve some of the pressure.

She’s about to fall back to sleep when it hits her full-force.

She sits up in bed immediately, her hands fluttering to her stomach as her face twists into a grimace. “Come on, kiddo, what are you doing?” she whispers to herself, rubbing her small bump delicately. She glances over at her husband sleeping peacefully next to her, his hair in wild tufts as he snores lightly.

Let him sleep, her subconscious tells her. It’s nothing.

She decides maybe going to the bathroom will help relieve the pain, quickly shoving the covers off her legs. She stands and the cramping suddenly feels ten times worse as she takes deep breaths, struggling to make it to the bathroom. When she finally gets there, she closes the door. Then there’s silence.

A few minutes later, she screams.

Jake’s awake now, shooting upright and instantly scrambling towards the direction of his wife’s cries, throwing the door open and freezing at the sight in front of him.

Amy is on the tiled floor, legs pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around herself, her small frame trembling. There’s toilet paper everywhere and her cheeks are streaked with tears and Jake is about to ask what the hell is going on when he locks eyes with his answer.

Through Amy’s legs, her pajama shorts are saturated with blood.

“I - need - I - something’s - wrong,” Amy gasps, squeezing her eyes closed in pain.

Jake snaps out of his daze and runs back into the bedroom, throwing on his hoodie and grabbing Amy’s fluffy bathrobe and a towel from the closet. He snatches his phone and his keys off the bedside table and sprints back into the bathroom, sliding down next to Amy.

“I’ve got you, come here,” he hushes her. He slings an am around her waist, lifting her up enough to slip the bathrobe over her shoulders and wrap the towel around her hips. “We’re gonna get you down to the car, okay? Can you walk?”

She takes a couple of steps, letting out a yelp and if Jake wasn’t holding her, she would’ve collapsed on the floor right then and there. “Hurts - it hurts - so bad - I can’t,” she sobs, her arms folding against her stomach protectively. “Jake - the baby-”

“Ames, the baby is fine, you’re fine,” he replies, trying to keep his voice as convincing as possible despite how much he’s panicking. He hooks his arm under her legs, picking her up bridal-style and carrying her carefully through the apartment. “Deep breaths, babe, you need to stay calm, freaking out is going to make it worse.”

He carries her out of the apartment, down the steps outside their building and sets her down gently to unlock the door from the passenger’s side. He quickly helps Amy into her seat, before slamming the door and running around to his side. 

“J-Jake,” Amy stammers as he gets into his seat. He looks at her and she’s curled herself into a ball, still holding her stomach. She’s terrified.

“You’re alright, babe,” he assures her, his voice breaking as he starts the car, reaching over the console to grip her hand, “it’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He helps her back into bed with the promise that he’ll just be in the next room. She doesn’t say anything. She hasn’t spoken since they left the hospital.

He’s not surprised.

He calls her parents first, the words he speaks leaving an unfamiliar and unwelcome taste in his mouth. They promise to get on a flight to New York later that afternoon, her mother rattling off a list of rescue remedies. Jake mentally stores them in the back of his mind, wondering how she could possibly know all these things will help when she’s the one whose had a 100% success rate with eight kids.

He calls his mom next, the sound of her sympathetic voice breaking him down bit by bit. He balances the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pours milk into his too-strong coffee. “This sucks, Mom.”

“Honey, I’m so sorry. Do you need me to come over? Or do you want me to make some meals? I can whip up my infamous chicken and pumpkin soup? Amy likes that, doesn’t she?”

Jake rubs his eyes tiredly, the sun beaming through the kitchen window much too bright for 6:53am. “Actually, yeah. The soup would be great, thanks.”

“Of course, sweetheart. So how’s she doing?”

“She’s...” he falters and lets out a long breath. “She’s completely shut down. As soon as the doctor told us - I mean, she hasn’t said anything since they discharged her and I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to help her or what to say or anything.”

“You just need to be there for her,” Karen replies as he takes his coffee into the living room and sits down, “she’ll talk to you when she’s ready.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“And how are you?”

Jake frowns into the receiver. “What do you mean?”

Karen sighs. “Jake, Amy’s not the only one in this. You have to take care of yourself too."

He considers her words for a moment. “I'm - it hurts, Mom,” he says honestly, “I mean, it wasn’t planned but we were still so excited and talking about all the things we could buy and looking at getting a bigger apartment and now it’s just...nothing.”

“I know, honey,” Karen says soothingly, “it will get better but right now, let yourself grieve. You’re allowed to.”

“Yeah. Hey, I’m gonna go see if Amy needs anything, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, I love you.”

He hangs up and once again he’s alone with his thoughts. He knows that at some point this morning, he’s going to have to go into the precinct and tell Captain Holt. They can’t just not go to work without an explanation. But when he tries to write a mental script in his mind of how to say it out loud, every option makes the situation more and more real. Captain, Amy and I need some time off. Captain, something has happened.

Captain, we lost the baby last night.

It’s the last one that gets him, makes him curse under his breath as he feels the tears roll down his face. He lets out a frustrated groan, wiping furiously at his eyes and picking up his phone to check the time. He stands up to make his way to their bedroom but when he turns around, Amy is standing behind him, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her fingers grip the edges of the material tightly, her eyes red from lack of sleep and pure pain as she watches him stare back at her.

“Hey,” he says slowly, “I was just coming to check on you.”

She doesn’t respond, her chest rising and falling with shaky breaths. It only takes him one step towards her for her to let out a sob that breaks his heart and he crosses the room quickly the wrap her in his arms, holding her tightly as her walls finally come down.

He lets her cry, says nothing as she hyperventilates into him, her hands clutching his shirt as he cocoons her, wishing he could protect her from everything that’s happened in the past few hours. Eventually he moves her to the sofa, lifting her legs over his lap, draping the blanket across both of them. Her sobs subside and the only noises she makes are quiet sniffles and deep breaths to steady herself. He stays quiet, waiting for her to speak when she’s ready and at least twenty minutes go by before she says anything.

“I don’t know what to do, Jake,” she rasps, her voice weak.

He presses his lips into her hair, trying to think of all the ways he could possibly take all of her pain and throw it a thousand miles away. “You don’t have to do anything.”

She lets out a breath. “I just - I don’t know why. They didn’t know why. They couldn’t tell us. I thought - I thought I was doing everything right. Why - what’s wrong with me?”

He pulls back and looks at her tear-filled eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Ames,” he whispers, stroking her hair gently. “Absolutely nothing.”

“You said I’d be able to do it and - and I couldn’t. I...” she trails off, avoiding his gaze as a fresh set of tears falls. “I couldn’t carry our baby. I lost our baby. This is all my fault.”

He tilts her chin up to make her look at him. “Hey, it’s not your fault, don’t say that.”

“Then why? Why couldn’t - why couldn’t I do it?”

Her voice is grief-stricken and he’s silent for a moment, trying to formulate a response in his head. “When I was 7, before my dad left, my mom got pregnant. Yeah, I know,” he says in response to his wife’s eyes widening. “I remember her explaining to me that there was a baby in her stomach and I didn’t really understand anything, except the fact she would keep telling me “you’re going to be a big brother”. And then one day, she didn’t pick me up from school. She got our neighbor to take me to her house until my mom came home. And when she did - even though I was young, I knew something was up. And when she told me...” he shakes his head, staring at the coffee table deep in thought.

“She said - my little brother, or sister, decided it wasn’t their time. That they weren’t ready to come into the world. And - saying it out loud now, I think that’s what happened with our baby.” He looks down at Amy, his fingers playing with the feathery ends of her hair. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Ames. You did everything right. Our baby just wasn’t ready.”

He feels dampness on the sleeve of his shirt and he knows she’s crying again, so he pulls her impossibly close to his chest, closing his eyes as he rests his cheek against the top of her head, feeling tears of his own fall free.

“Look. We can try again. We can wait however long you want to wait. We’ll stick to your life calendar. Either way, I’m here with you, I’m here for you. I’m on your team. We’re gonna get through this, I promise you.”

It’s quiet for a moment and he thinks she’s fallen asleep until she speaks.

“I love you so much,” she whispers, her long lashes fluttering against his neck.

He kisses her hairline, his arms tightening around her. “I love you too. Always will.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But they’ll be okay.

#b99 #brooklyn nine nine #jake peralta #amy santiago #jake x amy #peraltiago #b99 fanfiction #my writing #ya hey even i am crying #and i wrote this! #goodbye!!!!!!! #the desktop preview is FUCKED i'm sorry idk how to fix it #maybe read it on mobile-only????

[jennycalendar]

regarding honor and honesty in the workplace (6/?)

read on ao3!!

so i was GOING to wait to post this bc i wanted to like...space out chapters...but i love @sih muchly and i thought they deserved something nice to read and as such this chapter is for them. because i love them.

from the personal files of Jenny Calendar:

Lilah and I are on for this Saturday!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, also Rupert and I got in touch with UC Sunnydale about our closest client. Probably should have opened with that, seeing as it’s the thing that’s actually relevant to the case, BUT I’m going out with an attractive woman for the first time in YEARS, even if it is technically just business. And I know I said I’ve dated before, but there’s a difference between brief hookups and actually going out to a high-end club in a good part of Los Angeles. As much as I do love office flirtations, it’s rare that I’ve felt so much genuine chemistry between me and another person.

Well. Obviously I feel that kind of chemistry with Rupert, too. But not—oh, wow, I just played that back in my head and it sounds like—I mean, you know, you basically have to have chemistry with your partner if you’re a detective—you don’t need romantic chemistry for detective work, though—I don’t know why I went off on that tangent. God, I’m glad I call these things “personal files” and not “case files.” I’d be mortified by Rupert reading this.

It’s just that a lot of the people that come to us for help, no matter how attractive to me they are, don’t ever seem to be as interested in me as they are in their case. Most of the time, the people who show up in my office are more concerned with their stolen art or their loan gone bad or something like that, but not only did Lilah show up with a hugely important case, she showed up with a hugely obvious interest in me. As a person. And potentially as a romantic partner, if I play my cards right.

Maybe that’s why Rupert was put off by her at first? Because she didn’t seem interested enough in the case she was giving us? Probably something like that. Almost definitely.

Shit, this is supposed to be about the case. I’ll just sum up the case by saying that we’re going to Skype with Kendra and try and collect some info before we set off in search of the mysterious Tara Maclay. I might bring Faith along for that second part, since she and Tara are kind of close in age; maybe they’ll hit it off.

Faith was feeling better, and had been sent off in the morning with an excuse note (courtesy of Jenny) and a healthy breakfast (courtesy of Rupert, who had come over early to drive Jenny to the office). Jenny was very much comforted by this; even though she knew Faith was a tough kid, there was always that little thread of worry every time her daughter got sick.

“Thanks for all your help these last few days,” she said, turning to look at Rupert as he drove.

“Oh, it was nothing,” said Rupert shyly. “You—you helped out, last year, when Buffy and Dawn had the flu, and then you got sick and didn’t tell me until you were better—”

“You worry, Rupert,” said Jenny affectionately. “I didn’t want you driving over at midnight to fuss.”

“That’s what partners do,” Rupert answered in a way that seemed almost reflexive, but Jenny saw his blush and the way his hands tightened nervously on the wheel. She was about to say something—she wasn’t entirely sure what—when Rupert added a bit too loudly, “Have you asked Lilah out yet?”

“What?” Jenny blinked, startled by the abrupt change of subject. “I didn’t realize you were in support of me going after Lilah. Mostly you’ve just been restraining yourself to advice about dating in general.”

“You did make me promise to not be weird about Lilah,” said Rupert, and the conversation felt solidly in normal terrain after that.

They pulled into the office a few minutes earlier than usual, and as Jenny was getting her bag out of the car, she happened to see Lilah walking up the steps of Wolfram and Hart. Lilah was dressed sensibly but fashionably, as always, and she looked noticeably different from when she was looking at Jenny. More guarded, maybe, and something about that made Jenny feel all shy and fluttery, and—

—and Lilah had seen her staring. And Lilah was turning with a quiet, deliberate smirk, crossing the street and saying, “Fancy meeting you here, Ms. Calendar.”

“Thought you said you didn’t want your coworkers knowing what you’re up to?” Jenny managed weakly.

Lilah shrugged. “They’re not going to think too much about me talking to a beautiful woman,” she said. “I’ve had a few girlfriends in the past.”

“Me too,” Jenny blurted out, because it suddenly felt very important for Lilah to definitively know she wasn’t straight. Lilah gave her an amused look, and Jenny added, “Um, you know, just—we were talking about girlfriends, so—”

“I should go inside,” said Rupert uncomfortably, hurrying past Jenny and Lilah and into the building.

Jenny tried to direct an apologetic smile in Rupert’s direction, but he didn’t look back. “He can be—a bit difficult in the mornings,” she said awkwardly, twisting her hands and trying to look like the attractively unflappable detective she was. Or was trying to be.Same difference. “We were actually just going to get started on some research for your case.”

“That’s good to hear.” Lilah smiled. “I really am looking forward to our date this Saturday.”

“Date?” Jenny echoed, surprised but not at all displeased.

Lilah looked down, then coquettishly up at Jenny through her lashes, then said, “Unless that whole me-being-your-client thing is too much of a hurdle for us to jump?”

“I don’t even know why that’s a rule in the first place,” Jenny answered without hesitation, grinning widely. “I think it’s more of Rupert’s personal ethics thing. Something about us getting too involved in the case, but, uh—” She stopped. She didn’t at all feel ready to tell Lilah about Faith’s history with Wolfram and Hart, even if Lilah wasn’t on their side anymore.

“But?” Lilah prompted.

Jenny was nothing if not quick on her feet. “But when someone as beautiful as you comes into my office,” she said, smiling with the easy grace of a compliment genuinely meant, “I kinda get invested pretty fast anyway.”

Lilah’s smile in return was thoughtful and appreciative. She reached up, lightly tucking Jenny’s hair behind her ear, and Jenny’s eyes fluttered momentarily shut at the touch. “Good to see you, Jenny,” she said, and let her hand drop slowly, grazing Jenny’s shoulder as it fell. “Saturday night can’t come soon enough,” she added over her shoulder as she headed towards Wolfram and Hart.

Jenny stood there on the sidewalk for a few moments, smiling at nothing in particular. It took her a good thirty seconds to remember Rupert upstairs, probably failing miserably at setting up a Skype call, and fifteen seconds more to tear her eyes away from Lilah’s retreating figure and head into the office building.

Rupert was on the phone with Kendra when Jenny entered the office. “No, I’m not jealous, why does everyone keep saying that—” he was saying indignantly.

“Hey,” said Jenny, still too elated from Lilah to really register what Rupert was talking about. “Sorry I’m late. You want me to set up the laptop?”

“Please do,” said Rupert somewhat irritably. “Yes—she just walked in, we should be calling you in a minute. Yes. Yes, of course.” He hung up. “Jenny,” he said reprovingly.

“Look, she works right across the street!” Jenny objected. “I really will try to tone the staring down, but I can’t stop her if she wants to come over and talk to me.”

Rupert forced a smile. “I just—don’t know how to talk to her,” he said finally. “She only seems interested in you, and that—I’m glad for you, of course, and she, she has top-notch taste, but it still does sting a bit.”

“I can bring it up if you want,” Jenny offered tentatively.

“God no, I don’t want her feeling as though she has to interact with me for your sake,” said Rupert immediately.

“Is there anything I can—”

Rupert looked up at Jenny. “She is very clearly important to you,” he said, “and I want to be able to understand why. If she and you are compatible in the long run—and I very much hope you both are, because you deserve someone who will make you happy—I am sure that this situation will resolve itself in due time.”

“How can you be sure?” Jenny asked tentatively.

Rupert smiled a bit, and this time it looked genuine. “Because you are one of the best people I know,” he said, “and you are an excellentjudge of character. Whoever you end up in a long-term relationship with is bound to be a good person as well.”

Jenny, wordless for a reason she wasn’t sure how to define, drew in a soft breath. Taking two steps forward, she crossed the room, stood on tiptoe, and pulled Rupert into a hug. Rupert made a startled noise, then hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head.

Jenny’s phone went off.

“Shit, I forgot about Kendra!” Jenny yelped, jumping away from Rupert and scrambling to open her laptop. “Damn it, that’s gotta be her texting me, okay, can you throw together some notes while we talk? She’s got a really busy schedule, lots of classes—”

Rupert was still standing in the middle of the room, looking a bit dazed. “Oh,” he managed weakly. “Um. Yes. Yes, of course, my—my apologies.” He pulled up a chair, sitting down next to Jenny at her desk and watching as she opened up Skype.

It took a few moments, but Kendra’s slightly pixelated face appeared on the computer screen. “Ms. Calendar, Mr. Giles,” she said in her usual grave yet sweetly polite fashion, “is there anything in particular you wished to talk to me about? Buffy indicated your call involved detective work.”

“We really only have a few questions,” said Jenny carefully. “Um—have you heard of Wolfram and Hart?” Kendra frowned, and was quiet for such a long time that Jenny started to think the connection might have cut out. Finally, she said carefully, “In a sense.”

“In a sense?” Jenny echoed.

“They contacted me last week with a request that I leave my studies to come work for them,” Kendra explained. “When I replied that I would prefer to remain at Oxford, they grew…persistent.”

“Persistent,” Jenny repeated.

“Kendra, are you in any danger?” Rupert asked worriedly.

“No, not at all!” Kendra gave them both a confused smile. “Not that I know of, at least. They did mention that they do not appreciate their recruitment efforts being turned down, but I have not heard from them since then. I do feel some doubt at turning down such a prestigious opportunity, but—I wish to at least finish my studies before joining any law firm, and I told them as such.”

“All right,” said Rupert slowly. “Kendra, this may be a bit hard to believe, but Wolfram and Hart, they—”

“They hurt someone I care about,” said Jenny. She heard Rupert’s startled noise next to her and tried to focus on Kendra’s surprised expression instead. “I don’t know—how, exactly, or what, but it was some kind of manipulative courtroom politics and she doesn’t want to talk to me about it. We got called in by a Wolfram and Hart lawyer to help her take the establishment down from the inside out, and apparently you know some kind of information that Wolfram and Hart finds valuable.”

“You didn’t say anything about Wolfram and Hart hurting—” Rupert began.

“I’ll tell you later, Rupert, it’s just, it’s really personal,” said Jenny tensely, because it was and because she wasn’t getting into the situation with Faith while Kendra was there.

“I do not know any valuable information,” said Kendra, sounding genuinely bewildered. “Wolfram and Hart gave me a small pamphlet, but that is all.”

“Oh,” said Rupert, looking somewhat worried.

“What?” Jenny turned expectantly to him.

“Well,” said Rupert, “from the research you’ve been doing, didn’t you say that Wolfram and Hart wants to keep their existence as secret as possible? If Kendra knows that they’re recruiting people out of college and trying to convince them to abandon their studies, that’s not—strictly incriminating, exactly, but with carefully collected evidence, that could be very useful to a court case.”

“Oh,” said Jenny, getting it. “So Kendra’s not in any danger right now—she’s just someone who could testify against Wolfram and Hart if there was some actually incriminating evidence of wrongdoing on their part.” She grinned. “Honestly, Kendra, you being a genius who caught Wolfram and Hart’s attention makes a lot more sense than you being involved in something shady.”

“I appreciate that, Ms. Calendar,” said Kendra, but she still looked a bit troubled. “Should I be concerned for my welfare?”

“Not unless you have any intention of bringing this information to people who intend to ask you to testify in court,” Rupert answered, “and since we’re still compiling a database of witnesses for this case, that seems as though the process should take a good amount of time.”

“Just stay out of the spotlight, avoid talking about evil law firms, and you should be totally fine until we need you in LA,” Jenny chimed in. Trying to lighten the mood, she added, “And good luck on finals! Willow tells me you two are trans-Atlantic study buddies.”

Kendra beamed, looking somewhat cheered by the shift in conversation. “We are! She’s very good with mathematics help.”

“See,” said Rupert with a small smile, “someone else says mathematics instead of just math, Jenny, that five minutes of teasing you put me through two weeks ago was completely unwarranted.”

“Wow, trashing me in front of a client, Rupert?” Jenny teased. “Totally unprofessional. I’m cutting your pay.”

#fic #regarding honor and honesty in the workplace #jenny's like...barely a functional bisexual #barely.

[kaytebeans]

The Seasons of Woods Chpt. 2

Stardew Valley fanfic

Ships: Harvey x Female Farmer

Angst, past abuse, OC has a secret, slow burn, friends to lovers, main character with depression.

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the future.

Summary: Chloe Woods is running from a past life that’s far darker than she lets on. While it is only spring in Stardew Valley, Chloe is facing the winter of her life.  Chloe faces challenges of farm life during the year’s seasons.  All the while, she meets new people and becomes close to the town’s doctor. You don’t have to have played Stardew Valley to read, but you should man.  It’s a good game.

Cat            

 Chloe’s body was heavy on the bed.  Her eyes looked at nothing in particular, even as she left the TV on one of the four channels available.  Her throat was dry again, but she weighed the options of getting up and drinking versus staying completely still.  In the end gravity was too strong for Chloe to fight.

 It had been that way for the past five days.

 Her hair was a tangled mess, having not showered or even had the desire too.  She had enough food to keep her belly comfortable and it was the only time she was motivated to get up.  Though, her supplies was already running out, and she cursed herself for not purchasing more while she was already at that godforsaken store.  

     Doesn’t matter either way, I have to get a job.  Get a job or starve.  

 Chloe sighed and sat up.  Her quick movement was enough to frighten the mouse who’d been hiding behind the television.  It raced across the floor and under one of the kitchen cabinets. Chloe remained unphased by the pest, having seen a few of them scurrying about all week long.

 She was, however, startled by a chipper knock at her door.  Chloe’s head snapped in the sound’s direction.

     Who the hell?  

 Chloe’s confusion quickly turned to fear.        They’ve found me.     

 She was fast to hide the envelope of money, stuffing it into her suitcase then shoving the bag underneath of her bed.  Heart racing, Chloe tiptoed to the door, held her breath, and peered out of the peephole. Her mind went to a thousand scenarios and how she should react before her gaze landed on an older woman with a kind face.  

 Relief washed over the woman’s body and she sighed clasping into her chest. Chloe then unlocked the door and cracked it open.  The sun was bright and unrelenting, causing Chloe to cast her eyes away from the brightness of day. She hadn’t stepped foot out of that blasted Cabin since she arrived on Saturday.  

 “Hi.  May I help you?”  Chloe asked with what she hoped passed as a genuine smile.

 From the looks of the portly woman, a smile was the least of Chloe’s worries.        Shit, I’m a mess.  

 “Hello dear, I’m your neighbor, Marnie.  You- you feelin’ alright?” Marnie looked to her with concerned eyes.

 Chloe nodded before coming up with a quick lie, “Just getting over a cold.  Sorry about-” Chloe motioned to herself, knowing very well her oily hair and stench was probably not the most comforting thing, especially seeing as they were neighbors.  

 She could tell Marnie was a little relieved, even though she gave apologies for Chloe’s illness.  

 “Well, I’d be lying if I said I just came to introduce myself. See, I’ve found this little guy, and well we just have too many animals to take care of on the ranch.  But I figured every good farm could use a cat.” Marnie bent down and picked up a yellow tabby cat, cuddling it in her arms.  “Thought I’d see if you were interested in him, but now if you aren’t I’m sure someone else would be.”

 Chloe wasn’t interested, then again she also had a mouse infested cabin and no one to keep her company.

 She nodded, “Yeah, I’ll keep him.  Thank you, Marnie.”

 Marine smiled back but hesitated before leaving.  “Ya know, if you need some help getting things started with the farm, just let me know.  Guess you're growing your starters right now?”

 Chloe held out her arms to take the cat but shook her head at Marnie’s question.  “I- don't know what that is.”

 “Oh, well, maybe you remember grandpa growing plants in little cups before putting them in the ground?”  Marnie watched Chloe’s face, “Well, anyway, that's a starter, a little more hardy than just putting a seed outside straight away.”

 “Oh.  Well, to be honest, I thought I would just focus on cleaning up this year.”  Chloe looked around at the farm full of weeds and fallen trees.

 Marnie blushed, “Of course.  You're right. I'm getting ahead of myself.  Just excited to see this place back to its old self.”  She became more solemn, “Delmar- er your grandpa was a good man, a good friend.”

     He was a good man.  What would he think of me?  

 Chloe held the cat a little closer, casting her eyes to the ground.

 Marnie cleared her throat, “Well, I've kept a sick girl for too long.  Get some rest, sweetie. If that cold gets worse, you might want to go see Harvey.  His office is right by Pierre’s. And let me know if there is anything I can do for you, promise?”

 Chloe didn't have to try to be genuine this time, a smile naturally graced her face.  “Thanks, Marnie. I promise I will.”

 -

 Chloe placed her new friend on the ground before pulling out a piece of bologna from her fridge.  The cat paced in front of her legs, licking its lips at the sight of food. Chloe rolled it up, bit off half for herself and gave the rest to the anxious feline.

 She stretched her body and found a Joja Mart bag with her brand new soaps, shampoo and other various toiletries.  Chloe hadn’t planned on taking a full week to use them, but she was up now and it was time. She padded her way to the bathroom.  

 The shower wasn’t quite as old as the other furnishings in the house.  Her grandpa had to install a newer model at the end of his life. He had difficulty climbing in and out of the old clawfoot tub he’d previously owned.  

     Here goes nothing.  

 With a twist of the faucet, water streamed from the shower head and into the drain.  Chloe let her thin digits sway in the cold stream of water. She let out a sigh of relief when the water started to warm up.  

 Chloe brought her hand back and flicked her wrist, causing beads of water to fly in the air.  She peeled off her shirt and shimmied out of her sweatpants and underwear.

 The sight of herself in the mirror was enough to frighten her. She was thin, way thinner than she'd ever been in her life. Dark circles sat under her eyes causing her to look years older than she really was.  And ‘unkempt'? To call her unkempt would be a complete understatement. She couldn't remember the last time she had access to a razor, and her legs were a testament to the fact.  

 And her hair… That would have to change.  She couldn't risk being recognized should he ever decide to come to town.

 Chloe stepped into the shower and hot water enveloped her. The stream worked hard on her back, easing her sore muscles.  Chloe sighed in comfort at the long forgotten feeling of a nice shower. She washed her body and lingered longer than what most would deem necessary.  And yet, some essentials are hidden as luxuries.

 -

 It was two in the afternoon by the time Chloe Woods felt sufficiently clean.  She stared at the door, not wanting to go outside and face the world.

     Come on, Chloe.  You haven't done anything all week.    

 She fidgeted, snapping her fingers at her side's like she always did when she was summoning her courage.  With a deep breath, Chloe opened the door and headed to town.

 Stardew Valley was like something out of that quirky mother-daughter show filled with nonsensical blabber.  It was a pity they were missing a coffee shop. What wasn't missing was the infamous Pierre’s.

 Chloe was quick to walk to the local general store.  She wasn't about to resign herself to another position at Joja Mart just yet.  

 A community bulletin was a pleasant surprise, and Chloe scanned the ads and calendar of events.  Unfortunately, no jobs.

 She slowly stepped foot into the store.  It was...not as small as she thought it would be.  A relief to be sure, at least perhaps there was a chance they would need her.

 It wasn't difficult to locate Pierre as he greeted her by name as soon as she walked in.

 “Chloe Woods!  Our newest resident.  Come on in! I've got plenty of seeds to sell if you're looking to get started on spring crop.”  the owner motioned toward a display of seed packets.

 Chloe shook her head with a grin, “Going to have to wait on that.  The farm’s in pretty bad shape.”

 “Well, I'm sure we have something to help with that too,”  Pierre said with a winning smile.

     Oh boy, now I'm going to have to buy something.  

 Chloe rubbed the back of her neck, “I see, you have about everything here.”

 “Dad.  Leave her alone, she can shop by herself.”  A young woman with the most beautiful hair walked through the shop.  Abigail. At least that's what her father called her when he chastised her for being rude.

 “Actually, I could use your help.  Do you sell hair dye here?” Chloe needed to change her look, and hoped Abigail’s hair color meant they kept dye in stock.

 Abigail perked up, “We do actually.”  The young woman led her through an aisle of various toiletries.  

 Chloe eyed the colors.  A small selection, but it seemed Abigail may have been in charge of stock based on some of the more adventurous colors.  A hue called ‘Midnight Blue’ caught Chloe’s eye. She took the box as well a pair of scissors to check out where Pierre keyed in the prices on an old cash register.

 “I- was wondering.  Is anywhere hiring about town?  Are you?” Chloe chewed her lip again waiting for his response.

 “Unfortunately, I’m not hiring at the moment.  My daughter and wife help out around the store, and at the moment we aren’t needing any other help.”  Pierre explained and bagged up her items, handing them over. “But, there are others in town who may need help.  Willy owns a little bait and tackle store down by the docks. The saloon may be hiring, just across from the shop.  Doc Harvey is just next door, you could ask him.”

 Chloe nodded as Pierre listed off the businesses of town.  Not much of a selection, but she would check everyone. That money would only last her about a year, and that’s only if she pinched every penny.

 “Of course Joja Mart is always hiring.”  Pierre scoffed bitterly and Chloe couldn’t hide her grin.  

 “That’s a last resort,”  Chloe shook her head. No way in hell she was going to give up without a fight.

 As Chloe was about to thank Pierre, she heard the ringing of bells and clanging of metal against wood.  

 Pierre smiled, “Harvey!  We were just talking about you.”

 Chloe turned to face Harvey and was sure she would have known he was a doctor, even if she hadn't just been told.  His long and lanky stature would have been intimidating if he didn’t hunch over a bit, as if he was trying to become invisible.  A smile tugged on the corner of his lips and he adjusted his glasses before greeting them with a simple wave. “Nothing bad, I hope.”

 “Not at all,”  Chloe spoke up, “I’m looking for work, and Pierre mentioned you.  No chance you’re hiring?” She bit her lip again. It would be too good to be true that a job land in her lap the moment she walked into town, but she supposed stranger things had happened.

 Harvey glanced to the side then back at Chloe, “I’m sorry, I already have a nurse, and she takes care of reception as well.”  

 Chloe shook her head, “It’s alright.”  She smiled, not wanting to show disappointment.  It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t need anyone. “It was nice to meet both of you.  Guess I’d better get back to the search.”

 Energy depleted, Chloe offered her goodbyes, walked out the door, and went straight back home.  The search would have to continue another day. For now, she wanted the warmth and comfort of her bed. Once home, she was greeted with a gift from Cat: a dead mouse laying on the welcome mat. Cat watched her from the corner of the room, staying as far away as possible.  She and Cat would get along just fine.

#stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley oc #stardew valley harvey #harvey x oc

[aucklandmed]

Biomed/Healthsci tips

Hey everyone! Welcome to the pre-med/optom/pharm/science whanau and congratulations to all of you for surviving your first couple of weeks. That’s a huge achievement – as a biomedder last year I can firmly testify to that! Misa has asked that some of us who did premed recently give you a few tips and tricks, as well as some test/exam prep advice and how we studied for them. So find out below what I would say to myself at the start of last year

Tip #1: Plan your study habits now

You don’t want to get to the end of this year and wish you’d done something differently. Choose whether this year is full commitment or if you intend to live the first year uni experience like everyone else, because that will obviously affect your grades. Something I did in the 2nd semester last year (wish I did it in first sem!) was to write down my reasons for studying hard so that when it got tough I had somewhere to go for motivation to push through.

Tip #2: Like what you’re studying

No one’s brain wants to remember stuff you think you hate! Sometimes (or most of the time!) I had to choose to “like” studying. It helped me to take a step back and think about how awesome and intricate our world is, and how much Aristotle would’ve given to be handed the knowledge we are handed every day.

Tip #3: Personalize your own study

We’ve all heard of/seen the amazing notes of so-and-so-who-got-into-med. Just because it worked for them doesn’t mean it will for you! For example, I didn’t attend lectures for most of the year because I study really well from home. Think about how you remember things, and if the method you’re currently using isn’t working then change it. I used different methods for each of the four papers in first sem.

CHEM 110:

-        Chem is really logical so try to understand the concepts instead of rote memorization. Many people in the 2017 cohort did really well in Chem – the lecturers are AMAZING (Miss you, Brent!!!).

-          I made notes by drawing out all the structures and reactions which definitely helped my understanding. The daily quizzes will keep you on track for this paper, just try not to forget about them - I ticked my calendar every day. Might not seem like much now, but you could miss out on A+ by .6% because of them!

-          The first chem test is multichoice and was our first ever uni test (assuming it’s the same for you guys) so make sure you know how the scantron sheets work - ONLY ONE answer is right! Circle your answers in the book too so you can check your answers without wasting time.

BIOSCI 107:

-          Warning: Information overload! In case you were wondering, cramming is not going to work for this paper! My go-to method here was to draw mind maps while talking out loud, chopping the maps up, and building them back together like puzzles. It doesn’t leave you with beautiful notes, but it sure sticks in the brain!

-          Try to hinge what you learn onto anything that you already know. All my 107 mnemonics were High School Musical-related (cringe, haha) which meant I could whip through them easily and they didn’t suddenly blank out in a test. Be inventive with how you remember things, and make it funny if you can! So much easier to remember jokes than pure facts, at least in this brain ;)

-          I didn’t open my textbooks at all, and only one or two questions ever popped up in tests that I’d never heard of before (and I probably wouldn’t have known even if I did the readings). You can rather memorise your course guide and slides than waste time with information you won’t be tested on.

POPLHLTH 111:

-          Seemed like a breeze compared to the other papers at first! To be honest, I semi-forgot about it and got a nasty surprise while attempting practice papers two weeks before the 60% end-of-sem exam. Don’t do that!! Understanding concepts is not enough, you have to be able to express them back to the examiners on paper.

-          Mind-mapping didn’t work for me in Poplhlth, so I memorised definitions, concepts, and all the various models to nursery rhyme tunes. Sounds bizarre, I know, but music is easy to recall and it meant I had a lot of information which I technically didn’t “know” but was able to pull out of my mind when I needed it. I reckon One Direction would be perfect (!) for this too, if nursery rhyme tunes aren’t your thing. Once I discovered this, I used music for a lot of second sem papers too.

BIOSCI 101 (for biomed):

Since this is a non-core, all you need to do here is pass it, however most people would like to do a bit better than that. What I would recommend is: Cram! But keep up with watching lectures and understanding (not remembering) content throughout the semester. Then cram for A+; 3 days’ study is ideal. I would type through every slide and note I’d made, making funny stories and writing content to nursery rhyme tunes (EIEIO!). This method meant I could nail any MCQ test with very little study time and it was also pretty fun.

Tip #4: Don’t freak out for labs.

I did. And it wasn’t good, chem labs especially! Learn as much as you can beforehand, then relax and do your best. No one’s asking for more than that. It’s actually pretty hard to get bad grades in labs even if you think you’re doing terribly. Also, don’t crush on the lab demonstrators! Sorry friends who know who they are haha. Labs are scary enough without that <3 <3

Tip #5: Take care of yourself.

In particular, get enough sleep. You will be able to remember (and enjoy, therefore remember) everything so much more easily. Sitting up to all hours of the night is not a sign that you’re working really hard, despite the fact that ‘everyone’ seems to boast about it. If you’re expecting your brain to remember 40-50 slides of content per day, then give it some rest! In the same vein, remember to eat and drink properly, exercise, and take scheduled breaks where you don’t have to feel guilty for not studying. And trust me, there will be times when these basic life choices are NOT easy to keep! So make sure you’ve already decided to do them.

Tip #6: Be nice to each other. 

Everyone I met in the cohort last year was amazing and it made everything so much easier to like and trust the people in labs and lectures. Don’t let the talk of ‘mean premedders’ be true. We’re all in this together, after all ;)

My take home message is that we all care about you and want you to do your best. I won’t be able to help you with course content, but feel free to message me if you have any other questions (e.g. what to do if you get sick, like I was for the Poplhlth test). And if you’re overwhelmed and need a good cry, just let me know. I’ve been there too.

Stay strong, fam <3