#yeah that might be my saving grace actually... i get my next paycheck when i have my 2nd emg so I'll approach zero

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Was glad to get a semi-nice paycheck and now the whole thing and then some is gonna go towards my EMGs 🥲

#the thing is. i need them #i do wanna rule out anything else neurological but. jesus. $200 and then $377 for the office visit... and i do it twice 👁 👁 #maybe insurance will knock some of the cost down???? ''oh but if you pay the visit bill while you're there you only pay 50%'' #yeah that might be my saving grace actually... i get my next paycheck when i have my 2nd emg so I'll approach zero #and then immediately yoyo back up near $800 #i can always use my credit card; I've been past the 30% limit for a few months now bc i was out of work #what more could another month or two do to me 🙃 #just don't get chronic health conditions. don't be born with genetic conditions. just say no thank you #hoatm rants

[reeesea]

Something Sweet: Part One

~the sweetest drink on the menu~

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

pairing: just minsung, han jisung/lee minho

warnings: mild language (like barely)

words: 3.5k (2k too many ngl)

summary: Minho is working his usual shift at Seoul's most expensive high end restaurant, when a trio of new-comers arrive and by the end of Minho’s tedious night he’s plus one additional phone number.

a/n: To be honest this is the first thing I’ve ever written and actually posted. SO please accept this minsung one-shot that just came out of wanting more waiter Minho in my life. anyway if you read it and like it let me know, and maybe ill write more of it. In my head it has at least a few more chapters of non-plot where the other boys show up <3

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

It had only been an hour since the dinner rush started and Minho was already counting the minutes until he could collect his tips and go home. Sure, he could think of countless more exhausting jobs compared to being a waiter at Menu 98 (an upscale restaurant in a part of town he most definitely did not live in), but today just hit different. He never had to do much more than just put on his Customer Server Smile ™, not mess up the orders, pour the wine without spilling, and recommend the highest priced appetizer if asked. Pretty simple stuff. Nothing too draining, but still the exhaustion set in, probably due to spending 2 more hours in the dance studio than he should’ve the previous day. 

His feet were paying for those additional long hours trying to perfect choreo by making each minute of his shift more painful than the last. Even so, working at the ever popular restaurant paid for the daily discomfort that Minho may have felt from his blistered feet. The restaurant was a well known hot spot for anyone with enough money to casually spend the equivalent of three of Minho's paychecks on a meal. CEOs and their business partners along with idols and some lesser known celebrities made up most of their usual clientele on a casual Friday night like this one. The customers always came in waves on Friday evenings, parties of usually 4 or more coming in to celebrate some successful business venture that took place during the week. Great for Minho really, because that meant usually more wine, more appetizers, larger meals, and larger checks, which means bigger tips. His bank account really needed these Fridays especially if he was gong to keep saving up to finally pursue his dream. 

A new party of six was just assigned to Minho’s section. Trademarked smile: on, Feet: still aching, Hours until close: at least another three. It looked like tonight it was going to be a long ass night. 

An hour or so passed before Minho was able to get some form of rest from being out on the floor. Minho leaned his body weight against the wall near the back of the dining room, appreciating the brief calm before the night crowd started to roll in. Thoughts of the dance he was trying to choreograph flashed through his head. He hoped that the movements he’d chosen would be able to convey the emotions of the song he had in mind. The thought of asking Hyunjin to watch his performance briefly popped in his head, but before he could consider it further the hostess was calling his name. 

“Minho! There's a new table for you in section three.” Minho moved from his comfortable position against the wall and went through his checklist; Apron? Flattened. Backup pens? Check. Hair gently moved out of his face to perfectly frame it? Check. Lastly, Polite customer service smile? Obviously. 

The three boys at the table were definitely new customers to the restaurant. Minho observed that the three of them appeared to be blissfully unaware of the de facto business casual to fully formal dress code that the other patrons in the restaurant followed. The Trio seemed to sport the street style that you would see in the popular clubs not only a block away. Two of them clothed in almost all black outfits while the third wore a bright pink colored hoodie under his jean jacket. 

“Hyung, I still can’t believe we did it! The crowd was huge, I mean after going on stage I don't even remember anything. I might have blacked out. Holy shit did I actually black out….” Pink hoodie seemed pretty animated about whatever the reason was for their meal out. Maybe a little too animated, as other tables glazed bitterly toward the source of their evening’s disruption.   

Before approaching he considered the possibility that these boys being idols was likely, but Minho still found it odd for multiple reasons. He didn't recognize them at all as idols, which he was usually pretty good at keeping up with, and when idols did casually come in it was more likely to be on a weekday for an early dinner and not a late Friday night after the dinner rush. Nonetheless, with his perfect waiter image on, he walks over to the table never showing his curiosity.

“Good evening gentlemen, My name is Minho, and I’ll be serving you tonight. Is there anything I can get you to drink before your starters?” His script rolled politely off his tongue like it had the whole night. All complete with a slight smile and arms perfectly placed behind him, as carefully and as naturally as a doll whose been posed in the same position for the past six hours.

The wide set, somewhat brooding boy has already decided after glancing at the drink menu, “yeah I'll order a bottle of the house red for the table,” glancing up at Minho from beneath his black cap. Minho swiftly wrote down the order, and moved his glance over to the next boy at the table.

“Hyung, you're the only one of us who chooses to drink wine voluntarily,” Pink hoodie spoke up, seemingly upset about the prospect of drinking bitter fruit water. 

“Jisung, you're just saying that because you can't handle anything that you can actually taste the alcohol in. I'll drink whatever Bin gets,” the handsome curly haired blonde mentions, glancing at the soft hoodied boy next to him with a look that reminds Minho of a disappointed father. Minho actively fights off the smirk that is wanting to form on his lips.

“WHAT that's not true, THAT ONE TIME I drank an entire bottle of-”

“Fine, fine just stop yelling. You’re gonna get us kicked out before we even get to eat” Mr. Black cap glances up at Minho again, but with a more apologetic look. “Add on an order of the fruitiest and sweetest drink you serve still with alcohol in it, for the small squirrel boy.” That last part came with a smirk from the dark haired speaker and a glare from from the ‘squirrel boy’ to his left. 

Minho had trouble keeping the smirk from forming this time. And maybe his perfect image faltered for a second, but he was quick to recover, and confirmed their orders with a straight face and a promise to return with water as he left to give them time to select from the menu. 

---

“Great now our waiter thinks I'm a whiny baby who looks like a squirrel. Wow, thanks Changbin-hyung.” Jisung grumbles and pinches his cheeks that cursed him with the rodent nickname. 

“Good, at least he won’t be fooled into thinking you're anything but the truth” 

“Yah! WHa-”

“Hey settle down you guys, lets try not to get kicked out please. Binnie recommended the food here, and I would very much like to eat it before we are politely asked to leave” 

Jisung grumbles something inaudible at Chan’s request, and Changbin can't help but respond with a smirk at getting to see the younger be told off.

“Also we're supposed to be celebrating selling out our show so lets do that, yeah? First show 3racha single handedly sold out! WE did that!” 

All three of them get proud smiles after that, and the bickering is left forgotten as the three recount the night, even though they had lived it together

“Not gonna lie, I think our Binnie stole the show tonight. You were on fire tonight man.” Chan said proudly, receiving a thankful smile from the younger boy, who had become shy and bashful at the praise.

“Though, Chan-hyung your rap was so charismatic tonight, you almost made that girl in front faint when you winked at her, the whole audience fucking lost it” Jisung had switched from literally yelling to just a whisper shout for emphasis.

“Hahaha, yeah I can't even believe that happened. Man, today’s energy was just different.” The smile on Chan’s face was blinding, as usual. “Hopefully we can get to play even bigger venues soon. I could get used to this...” Chan mused, seemingly already focused on the future plans of 3racha. 

“Yeah, those paydays would be real nice right about now.”

“Bin-hyung, what are you talking about, you’re literally loaded. Plus since you got that producing job, we can actually pay the rent on the apartment you parents let us stay in '' Jisungs pretty thankful for all the support Changbins parents had given them, while the three of them worked toward their collective dream to make and perform music. But he thinks they all can agree that finally being able to use their own money to live instead of just relying on handouts and the kindness of friends or family to help keep them from becoming starved or homeless, is a new kind of satisfying that Jisung hadn’t considered before. Just look at them now, at one of the nicest (and most expensive) restaurants in Seoul, fighting over drinks and having a meal that would hopefully be the first of many celebrations for their groups accomplishments. The trio could all agree that the financial stress has been one of their greatest worries, and that beginning to escape it has been all kinds of relieving. 

Before any of the boys could respond to Jisung’s comment, Minho had returned with three glasses of water, three glasses for wine, and a bottle of wine all balanced perfectly on a tray perched on the palm of his hand. Jisung had to admit it was impressive how he had managed to balance all of the glassware and liquids without losing balance, and while moving with more grace and agility than he would expect from your average waiter. 

Before Jisung had even returned from his thoughts, three glasses of water and the expertly poured wine glasses, all set delicately without a single drop spilled, were identically placed in front of each of them. Graceful may have been an understatement. 

“Have you decided what you would like to have tonight, gentlemen?” Their waiter Minho said, all with a gentle expression on his face. 

No, the answer was no, but before Jisung could respond, Changbin had already ordered the pricey steak to go with his wine. Soon after, Chan ordered the surf and turf dish that had a stupidly complicated name that Jisung couldn’t pronounce. Jisung hadn’t even remembered them even looking at the menu, or maybe it was just him who had yet to even glanced at it. Details. 

“Uhhhhh…” Jisung searched hopelessly over the menu and then at his friends, who stared blankly back at him, then back to the menu again. This was a regular occurrence when the three decided to go out and eat, when they weren’t holding themselves in their apartment for weeks at a time. Still, Jisung always ended up hopelessly unprepared to successfully order without awkward pauses and at least three consecutive strings of ‘hmm’s and ‘uhhh’s. And so,

“Hmmmmm…. I think.. Uhh…. maybe…” nothing was popping out at him, and Jisung was pretty sure at this point that he had forgotten how to read. “Ya know what, surprise me,” he decided this was the best response he could come up with.  

“Surprise you?” Minho looked just as confused as Jisung felt.

“Yeah, is that an option? If not, I'm this close to just closing my eyes and pointing.” He says while dramatically closing his eyes and waving his finger over the menu. Once again Jisung was hopeless.

He hears a soft chuckle and opens his eyes just in time to catch their waiter’s lips curl in a sweet smile that makes his eyes turn into crescents. It lasts barely a second, before his face returns to his neutral customer service expression. But Jisung decides he really likes that smile, and a part of him is sad to see it retreat so soon. 

“Well in that case, I can do the blind pointing for you, but I personally recommend the seasonally prepared local beef served on house baked brioche, that comes with garlic and parsley potato wedges. Does that sound alright?” Jisung felt he had said it faster and with more details just to confuse him. 

Jisung stares at him blankly in response, and he's pretty sure four whole seconds pass in silence before the Pretty Waiter ™ follows up, an ever so slight smirk on his lips, “it's pretty much a really good local burger with homemade fries, I think it would be something you would enjoy.” 

Jisung grins at that, “Oh! Yeah that does sound good...Thank you! I will have that.” For some reason he really likes the idea that their waiter chose something off the menu that was specially meant for him. Not that he wouldn't like all the nicer and fancier dishes they serve here with small plates with dry ice fog, but a part of him was more content in getting a dinner that didn't require him to question whether or not something on his plate was even edible. And the happy curiosity definitely had nothing to do with the way their waiter’s eyes sparkled when he talked or the barely-there smirk that Jisung just caught sight of. 

“Alright then, I’ll put in these orders. Oh! And then I'll be right back with your speciality fruit drink,” He says that last part with a slightly more upbeat tone, resulting in another smirk to appear on Changbin’s face and a groan from a slightly embarrassed Jisung.

---

Minho surprised himself. 

On any given day of work at Menu 98, he deathly avoids having to do anything more than the regular polite small talk. But for some reason, tonight he couldn’t stop himself from playing along with the antics of the cute boy at his table. The three boys were entertaining, and maybe he could blame the exhaustion and the numb pain in his heels, but the comical distraction was welcomed by Minho. He didn't even realize just how much he had been looking for a distraction from the long shift until it was staring right at him with big shiny eyes and a cute round face. Minho hurried back to enter in their orders, including his suggestion for the squirrel looking boy.

Minho wasn’t going to deny that the flustered boy at the table was cute, he was pretty aware how attractive all three the boys were when he took their orders. He had thought they were idols originally, so in Minho’s mind it made sense. Still, the waiter still felt something about the three was too unique to be categorized as just idols or trainees. As much as it may have piqued his curiosity though, Minho still got paid for his service not for his interests in customers, so he brushed it off almost as soon as it appeared. 

The rest of the evening, Minho tended to all four of his assigned tables with his usual perfect server act and minimal small talk. When it came to the three somewhat boisterous customers in the corner table, Minho may or may not have allowed himself to subtly laugh at their arguments and antics. The dynamic of the three boys was slowly becoming the highlight of his late night shift. Each of their personalities greatly contrasted and amplified the other, making way for animated and comical exchanges and arguments between them. 

When Minho had returned with a Strawberry daiquiri for the boy in pink, a chorus of giggles could be heard from the other two boys, while the other happily accepted the drink in substitute for the untouched glass of wine in front of him. Upon drinking it, the cute boy's eyes somehow widened further and shined more than Minho thought was possible. He flashed his heart-shaped smile as he thanked Minho for the drink. 

Minho nodded in return, and internally decided that Heart-shaped smiles were his new favorite. 

---

Jisung had been hyper since the show, and the energy was now focused on a new mission to see the pretty smile of their waiter again. Granted, he didn't have to try that much harder to gain the attention of the pretty waiter, being the loud and excitable person naturally he was. Every small grin that Jisung was able to pull out from under the other boy’s infuriatingly polite facade, was a major win in his book. 

Chan, Changbin, and Jisung celebrated further by enjoying the food, which was all phenomenal, and discussing their next gig the coming week. The best way to celebrate one performance is to look towards the next, or someother random bullshit Changbin had said after a couple more glasses of wine.

Overall the night was a celebration of all of the dedication and hours they had put into their music, as well as their grind to perform and grow a somewhat sizable following. They were all high on the potential of finally getting to realize their dreams and reach their goals as a group, something none of them actually thought they would get to do together. The overwhelming happiness of the night easily made it one of Jisung's new favorite memories. 

As the boys were finishing off their third--or forth--drink (Jisung definitely had another one of the strawberry drinks Minho had brought him), after dinner and figuring out their checks, Jisung felt a surge of boldness. Mostly due to having a few drinks in his system, and the slight infatuation he had with the pretty waiter's smile, Jisung decided ‘whats the worst thing that could happen? Rejection? lmao’ and wrote down his name and number on his receipt in hopes that Minho would actually read it, or maybe even contact him. Maybe. 

It was a shot in the dark, but Jisung had been feeling a little high on life, and felt like he couldn’t leave without at least shooting his shot. Jisung and the other members of 3racha got up to leave, and Jisung searched out the waiter. He  wasn’t able to see him in the mostly empty dining room now, but a hopeful part of him felt that he would see him again, leaving the restaurant with his arms around his members already bickering about who would get to shower first after their long night. 

“I'm just saying, Chan-hyung I know for a fact that you’re not even going to make it to the front door before passing out, so I call dibs. And Jisung, I’m older than you so I get veto power over your rights and decisions as your hyung.” 

Jisung was about to grumble in response but something about how Changbin’s smile was so carefree left him feeling like he deserved this victory. Changbin was definitely a little tipsy, but seeing his hyung so happy after such a rough week made Jisung glad to do anything to keep that smile there.

“Fine, fine hyung but you have to help me carry Chan-hyung up stairs when he inevitable falls asleep on me in the cab” 

“I don't know what youre talking about,” Chan replies, already yawning, while climbing into the cab.

---

Minho was picking up the receipts from his tables when one of them caught his eye.

Hey, I’m Han Jisung ^~^ (the cute one in the pink hoodie!)

Thanks for your suggestions, best waiter ever!!!

I think your smile is beautiful, Maybe I’ll get to see it again sometime?

555-XXX-XXXX

Minho couldn't help but smile to himself. He’d been hit on occasionally by customers and has been given countless numbers, which usually don't make it much farther than the trash, but something about the innocence of the note and cuteness of the boy made him actually consider keeping it.

He scoffed to himself after a second of considering it. As cute as the boy was, and as sweet as the note was, Minho didn’t have time or energy to have another added person in his life. No matter romantically or platonically, new relationships were on his ‘things to stay away from if you ever wanna make it into the dance academy’ list. He already barely ever saw his roommates, and if they weren't all in the same dance troupe, they probably wouldn't talk much. All of their time was spent working and practicing, and he and his roommates only had enough energy and free time to spend a meal or two together on the weekends. There just wasn’t any more time for anything extra, no matter how nice the idea may sound. 

He was about to give the little message the same treatment as the others as he cleaned up for the night, but a part of him couldn't bring himself to throw it away, and discreetly pocketed it instead out of instinct. Out of sight and out of mind as far as Minho was concerned.

-----

thank you if you read this far <3

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

#stray kids #skz #minsung #stray kids fic #skz fic #han jisung #lee minho #lee know #I love my sons #gods menu #restaurant au

[seriouslyhooked]

When We Collide (Part 1)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here. 

A/N: Hey everyone! Surprise! There’s a new fic I’m here to share with you all, and full disclosure, it is very different than my usual fare. You will be able to tell that from this first chapter, and for some of my readers it might be a bit too much. Not to worry, this is just a prologue of sorts, and next chapter will start in a brighter, more hopeful place (we will flash forward in time). Be advised that there is no graphic violence or anything like that, but the premise of this story involves Emma owing a debt to Gold (a mob boss in New York) that she has to pay. She’s working it off in a bar, but she’s not exactly free to go as she does. That’s a lot angstier of a situation than I ever like to deal with, so it’s temporary, but want to give you all the heads up just so you know. I suspect a lot of you will read this and think it’s not that bad, but I figure it’s best to give everyone the heads up. Anyway, I promise that this story will eventually be just as fluffy and feels-filled as my other stories, and I hope you’ll give it a try, even if you decide to skip this chapter and just join for the next. Also, just to shout out the excellent song that partially inspired this fic, you should all listen to the song ‘Collide’ by Tiana Major9 & EARTHGANG. It’s a really beautiful song, and I hope the fic can embody the feel of it as it continues to unfold. Thanks so much for reading, and hope you enjoy!

Maybe I’ll get lucky and everyone will forget I’m back here, Emma thought to herself as she counted up the bottles on the shelves, taking a quick inventory of what they had for the bar out front.

She also needed to keep this count to protect herself. She’d learned a few days into this gig that Gold’s men loved their liquor and they had a tendency to come back here and take it. Instead of letting them do that and then allowing her and her coworkers to take the blame, Emma came up with a system including locks on the door and an electronic documentation of what they had and when. There was no wifi hook up, obviously, as Gold made sure to keep a strict lock on their surroundings, but it did provide an timestamped trail that proved she was taking nothing from this place. Every night she cashed in her tips with Sydney, the bar’s ‘owner’ but really just Gold’s front man and lap dog, and she watched as the debt she owed grew smaller and smaller. In six more months she’d be free of this and she was doing anything and everything she could to shorten that time.

Thinking about her debt made a flare of anger rise in her belly. Truth was this wasn’t even her fucking debt, it was Lily’s, a woman Emma believed to be her friend. They’d met when they were still kids, both of them runaways, and though time had driven them apart, they reconnected when they realized they were both living in New York. Emma had managed to get steady, honest work and was doing her best to claw up from the nothing that she’d started with in life, and she thought Lily was doing the same. Boy had she been wrong.

It turned out that Lily didn’t pay her part of the rent with anything resembling clean money. She’d worked for Gold, and then she fucked him over and ran, leaving Emma none the wiser and thrust into the fallout of a crime she’d never committed. When that moment came Gold gave her two choices: pay off the money he was owed, or suffer a bit before accepting and still paying, but in a less desirable way. Emma chose the former, and she gave everything she had to the man, but it still wasn’t enough. Lily had managed to get off with almost 50k, and while that was chump change to Gold, it was more than double Emma’s savings. Still she’d promised to get him the money, to give him every paycheck she could, save for her rent and food expenses. But it didn’t satisfy the Crocodile, as people were prone to calling him. Gold decreed that she’d work in the bar and that was that. She’d also been ‘moved’ to one of the apartments above the place. But none of her actual belongings ever arrived. All she had was work uniforms and bare essentials. There was no TV, no phone, no nothing. She’d been graced with tattered linens, the most basic of household essentials (as in one plate, one fork, one of everything) and a bunch of dusty books on ranging topics left from tenants past. She also had a chip on her shoulder, created from the unjustness of this whole situation, pushing her to get out of this shit as fast as she could.

“Yo, Emma, you coming back at some point?” A voice asked from the doorway. It was one of her coworkers, a guy named August who she’d never had much to do with. He seemed pretty okay, but then again, he was here working for Gold and he didn’t even seem to have the whole debt-pay off factor going. That was a huge red flag, and one of the reasons Emma never trusted him much. “We got customers.”

“One minute,” she said, and waited until the door swung closed again. Knowing she was along she closed her eyes and took some steadying breaths, gearing up for what would no doubt be a terrible night.

It’s temporary. You just have a few more months. You’ve survived worse. You can survive this too.

When she felt strong enough to put her mask in place and face the raucous debauchery that awaited her outside, Emma squared her shoulders and headed out. Her eyes had to adjust quickly to the dimness of the lighting, and she took in the stronger scents of stale cigar smoke and piss that always clung to this place. No matter how much they cleaned after hours, there was no getting rid of the odor or the grime. This bar was better off burned to the ground and completely built over, but to the men who frequented it, this place was the closest thing they had to home. The Lair, as the neon sign outside advertised, was a total dive, and it was filled to the brim with low-rate mobsters and criminals.

This was one of those places that Hollywood constantly tried ripping off to no avail. In some ways it was completely corny and predictable, and so blatant in its criminal ties that it felt like a joke that everyone was in on. But the embellishments and adornments here were over the top and gaudy, too tacky even for a Las Vegas casino. Gold’s namesake was splashed everywhere, from the countertops to the barstools to the curtains on the back walls. When the finishing got gross and dirty, they’d be replaced, but the style was dated and straight out of the 70s. It was a mobster hideaway with no pretensions, and Emma always thought to herself that the cops should be busting in every night. This was an obvious den of misconduct, but no cops ever came. The reality was that Gold had half the police force in his pocket, and the other half were too scared to cross him for fear of what he’d bring down on them. Gold might be ridiculous and over the top, but he was powerful, and more than that he was smart, so smart Emma knew better than to ever try to run and think she could get away with it.

“Well, well, well. Ain’t you lookin good tonight, sweetheart?”

Emma fought the instinct to roll her eyes at the slurred and shouted words that crossed the bar top over to where she was standing. Two months into her captivity here, and Emma knew better than to let her baser instincts win out. Despite how gross this man was, and how underwhelming he was on any metric of attractiveness, Emma couldn’t cave to her want to blow him off. Doing so was a risk, and if she had any chance of surviving this hell hole, she could not afford to take those.

“What can I get you, Mr. Black?” Emma asked, ignoring the stench of sweat and booze that mingled with the man’s cheap aftershave. She looked at him for only a second before looking down again, knowing her best bet was to try and blend into the background and let these men set their sights on the women who actually wanted to be here.

“I’ll take a night in bed with you, darlin’.” Emma chocked down a gag but flashed an insincere smile as she shook her head.

“You know the rules, Black. I work for Gold in a strictly drink-serving capacity.”

“Damn waste if you ask me, putting talent like you up in the bar.”

A waste? Emma considered it a small miracle. Since the day that Gold’s men had swarmed her apartment with guns drawn, looking for Lily, Emma had been completely at the will of a monster. She knew from the second they apprehended her and brought her back here that she could be destined for anything. People talked about Gold in this city and there was no crime he was too good to partake in. He had brothels all over the place and a stake in the skin trade. He ran drugs and guns, made people disappear and black mailed anyone he could. He had no moral restrictions, and no love greater than the one had for money and control. He owned this city in almost every single way, and if he chose to, he could make her life even worse than it was now. So much worse. It sent a shiver up her spine to even contemplate some of the things she’d heard whispered about. But Gold, as dark and twisted as he was, did have a code, and he’d briefly explained it to her the night she was brought in.

“I’m a man who collects his debts, Miss Swan, but I am also a man who sees a whole story. You had nothing to do with Lily’s betrayal, I know this. You’re collateral damage, a source of collection through no fault of your own. The debt must be payed, but since you yourself have never wronged me, I’ll be good to you. You even think of crossing me, however, and you’ll live to regret it.”

Emma knew the truth when she heard it. Her gut was never wrong. Even with Lily, the problem wasn’t that Emma had missed her true colors, she’d just chosen to ignore the telltale signs of a problem person because she really had no other friends. She hoped that Lily may come around, that she’d get better and really try and make a go of things in an above board way, but with Gold there was no doubt as to the veracity of his threat. If he felt Emma was disloyal, he’d punish her, and if at the end of this there was any doubt that she’d turn on him, she would never be free. She had to be picture perfect in her actions. A pretty, polite prisoner who served their time and then kept silent. She was ready to do that, she just had to stick to her plan and keep her head up in the meantime.

As she made Mr. Black’s drink and got caught into the flow of the bar, serving men their beer and liquor until they all got drunk as hell, Emma counted down the seconds until the night would be over. She gathered her measly tips, and kept them guarded close, and she knew that tonight would be like every other. She was trapped here, in this darkness, destined to be unhappy but determined to survive. When she was free of this she’d go as far away from Gold’s hold as she could. She’d find a cabin somewhere, live a quiet kind of life, and she’d never put herself in this kind of position again. Her lesson had been learned – she could trust no one but herself, and though that was a totally lonely sensation, she had to try and accept it or risk hurting herself all over again down the line.

Suddenly, in the midst of the normal night’s activities, the front door blew open and Emma felt a tingling of anticipation when it did. She hadn’t looked in that direction all night long, never liking the people who would dare to enter here, but her instincts were screaming at her to turn around and look. She had no idea why, but when she obeyed the internal command, she was shocked into stillness, caught up in the sight of the man who’d just walked in.

Tall, dark, and fiercely handsome, this man was sin personified and so much better looking than the other thugs that came here every night. He didn’t look out of place though, aside from his attractiveness. The clothes he wore were made of leather and spoke to some dangerous intent. He made no show to hide the side arms he was carrying, one on his hip and one strapped across his chest, and the scowl on his face made him seem hard and unapproachable. For a moment, Emma had the chance to take him in, and despite the fierceness of his expression, she felt a flutter low in her stomach.

His chiseled jaw with the well-trimmed beard he had was hot, as was the symmetry of his features and the way his broad body clenched and she could see his muscles. But if someone were to ask her what stood out most about this mystery man it was his eyes. They were blue, like the ocean in places she’d only read about. They weren’t icy or cold, but warm somehow and so thoroughly enticing. She felt herself lost in them, and then he looked at her, their gazes connecting, and that sensation grew so much stronger. She felt a kind of pang echo through her ribcage the moment he took her in, and she watched as the hardness of his face shifted ever so slightly. It was a small tell, most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Emma did, and she knew that he felt this too. Whatever the hell this was – the man who’d just arrived was just as captive to it as she was.

“Ah, Captain, you’re here!” One of the regulars said, laughing and flailing about as only truly drunk men did. “Didn’t think we’d ever get you to The Lair. Thought you was too good for us.”

The man they called ‘Captain’ tore his gaze from Emma and moved over to the man who’d called him over. His stride was measured and almost graceful, and Emma couldn’t help but follow him with her eyes. This was so unlike her. She made it her business not to watch anyone too closely. The less she knew about what everyone was really up to the better, but she was intrigued by this newcomer in a way she’d never been before.

“Boss wants to see you, Alvin. Something about the McManus shipment.” Alvin blanched at the comment and swallowed harshly and Emma knew for certain that this man was in trouble with Gold. She didn’t have much sympathy for Alvin, and in fact most of her intention was focused on this stranger, who had the touch of an accent she couldn’t quite place. His voice was silky and low, tantalizing in a way, and she wanted to hear more of it. “Perhaps you’d like a drink for the road. Not sure when you’ll have the chance for another.”

“Bring them this,” Sydney said, materializing from nowhere next to Emma. She jumped at the unexpected intrusion into her thoughts, and looked at the two glasses.

“Is this rum?” she asked dumbly and Sydney nodded.

“The best. Captain likes the good stuff.”

“Right,” Emma said, moving over with the tray to the table where both men sat. When she got there, she was struck speechless again. Being so close to this man only added to the allure. He was even more interesting close up, and she lost her head a little bit at the sight of him, but tried to pull herself together as best he could. “Your drinks, gentlemen.”

Alvin took the drink and downed in, but the stranger took his time, glancing at her over the glass and nodding. He didn’t smile, but his eyes conveyed a warmth he’d shared with no one else here. “Thank you, love.”

Knowing she couldn’t linger, Emma moved back to the other tables, continuing her work, but when she noticed Alvin and the mysterious man standing up to go a few minutes later, she felt a dash of disappointment. He was leaving, and she didn’t even know his name.

Okay, seriously? What the hell Emma? He’s one of them. He works for Gold. You don’t care about him. You can’t care.

The voice in her head scolded her for her fanciful thinking and this completely mistimed attraction. It was so foolish to think of him as anything but a threat, but her heart lurched at the thought. She was overcome with these weird feelings. Being so drawn to a man so quickly had never been her style. Certainly not now when she was in survival mode. But as she turned around to fill a tray with empty glasses on one of the far tables, she felt a presence behind her. She whipped around too quickly, only to run into him, and if it hadn’t been for his steadying hands, one on her arm and the other on her tray, the glasses would have shattered.

“You all right, love?”

“Um,” she licked her lips as her eyes darted up to and she nodded once. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“Good. Just wanted to give you this,” he said, handing her a tip. It was generous. Like a couple hundred-dollar bills generous. It was way more than their drinks had been and way way more than she could ever accept. It felt wrong, but there was a part of her that was desperate to keep it. This would put her that much closer to freedom. It was almost a week she wouldn’t have to work. Still she pushed it back at him.

“I can’t. It’s too much.”

“It’s hardly enough,” he replied ardently and her brow furrowed as she looked at his face, the earnestness on it clear as day to her. “I know these men, love. There’s no way they give you what you’ve earned. Not tonight, not ever. So please, take it.”

“Okay,” she agreed after a moment’s hesitation, feeling gratified by the fact that she had earned this, even if he wasn’t the one who should have to pay. “Thanks…”

“Killian,” he filled in before she could decide to use the nickname that Alvin had called him by.

“Killian,” she repeated, tasting the name on her tongue and loving the way it felt as it passed through her lips. “I’m Emma, by the way.”

“Emma,” he replied with a grin that was there and gone so quickly she would have missed it as she blinked. As it was, she knew she saw it, and that look was even more breathtaking than the rest of him. No one had a right to be that sexy. No one. “Well, until next time, Emma.”

With that, he turned and walked away, cold and composed once more as he led Alvin out of the bar and headed off into the night. And though Emma knew very little about him, she had a feeling she’d just met someone very important. Through the mist of all the new emotions and excitement, she sensed, deep down, that this man – Killian – mattered, and that somehow, someway, their fates were intertwined, destined to lead them back to each other in one way or another.

Post-Note: So there we have it! This is a short glimpse into the fic, kind of like a prologue if you will. Next chapter will flash forward a bit, because this honestly was angsty enough for me to write. I do not want to dwell in the bad circumstances Emma finds herself in, and instead want to get us to a fluffier, if still a bit wilder place than I am used to. As the description says this will be an MC (motorcycle club) romance, and we’ll reveal how that will come to pass in the next few chapters. In the meantime, I would love to hear what you all think! This is a break away from my usual fare, and pretty much the opposite of the other fic I am currently writing, but I have wanted to write a story like this for a really long time. I’m eager to share the rest of this fic with you all, and hope you will join me on this fun new journey. Anyway, thanks for reading and hope you have a great rest of your day!

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan au #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs angst #cs au #cs mc au #cs motorcycle club au #emma swan #killian jones #gold is a bad guy #the whole storybrooke gang #ouat au #when we collide #when we collide au

[andy-the-8th]

Things Green and Growing

Part 9 of Creatures That Defy Logic

Read on AO3

Sam's last day at the greenhouses for the summer and seeing her sister off back to college.

cw: homophobic language

A/N: I just really like the idea of Sam and Jess being biology bros

Also we meet Sam's dad. He's an asshole.

The rushing fans and cool mist of the greenhouse definitely made the late August heat more bearable - no matter how much you might love your job, there's only so much summer sun you (or your plants) could take without some assistance.

"Am I doing this right?"

Jess looked up at Sam from the other side of a table of junipers, a spiky carpet of green across the long low table, contrasting the spotty gray of the wet concrete greenhouse floor. He'd come by the greenhouse a few times over the summer - even though he didn't work there, he insisted he help with something if he was going to hang out. Sam had eventually agreed to let him take care of some of the more innocuous tasks.

Pruning clippers in hand, Jess had been tasked with cutting back the overgrown shoots from the Japanese star junipers - the small conifers were popular for their hardiness as a ground cover, especially as a more durable and eco-friendly replacement for grass. This meant though that their lower branches would snake over the edges of the black plastic pots they were growing in, running sideways in every direction, getting tangled in each other, burning and drying out foliage.

Sam walked over to inspect his handiwork. Actually not too bad.

"Yeah, they look fine."

"Awesome. Thanks for letting me prune something, feels more important than moving things around from table to table" Jess said cheerfully.

"No problem" Sam had come to genuinely enjoy spending time with Jess, and not just as a confidant. Sure, he never got any less excessively enthusiastic, would still frequently go off on tangents of facts and theories, but she'd gotten used to his pattern of speaking. He'd clearly been scared of being annoying the first time he'd visited, and pretty much stayed quiet the few times he'd met Jackie or Jen. Trying to be a bit more normal around new people.

So in a way, she was glad he was comfortable being himself around her now.

Sam went back to the table of peace lilies: graceful, broad glossy dark green leaves with their delicate white alien blooms on long stalks above the thick cluster of greenery at the base. Like the junipers - like most potted plants packed together for commercial purposes - the lower levels were at risk of suffocation, for both light and air, and had to be clipped off before they turned yellow and started to attract mold.

They kept working in silence for a long while, the only sound in the greenhouse the gentle rush of the fans, the occasional hiss of the misting system, the soft clicks of the pruning clippers punctuating at either end of the space.

"So school starts back up in a week."

Sam caught that that was both a perfectly normal observation and a veiled question about what they'd both been thinking since August started. Cody was supposed to be back soon.

"Do you think he'll come back at night? So no one sees him transform back?"

"I don't know, probably." Of course Sam still missed her boyfriend, but it had also been good to spend the summer focusing on her own interests, her own friends, away from swimming and social drama. But she knew she looked forward to seeing him.

Still, it would be a lie to say she wasn't more than a little apprehensive as well.

Like, he literally wasn't human. A lot had probably changed from spending some time as a full-time merman. And what sort of sea creatures were they anyway? Were merpeople more like whales, pelagic, solitary, mostly sticking to the vast fathoms of the open oceans? Living alone or in two or three individuals? Or were they more like dolphins, staying in the shallows in big social pods? Was it like in the movies, secret underwater cities of merpeople with their own cultures, music, governments?

It wasn't too unrealistic to imagine that any of those might significantly change someone's demeanor or even personality. She still got hung up on the whole telepathy thing as well - if Cody came back able to read minds, that might just be too weird of a thing to deal with on top of starting high school.

Jess didn't seem to see any of those questions as anxieties, of course. Quite the opposite. To be fair, he wasn't the one dating him either.

"Gosh, I wonder what it all was like." His voice that that airy sort of awe he'd had back when Cody was still going through the transformations. They actually hadn't really talked about him much over the summer, which Sam had found a little surprising - Jess seemed equally excited to just talk with her, especially with their shared interests in biology. He'd listened attentively when Sam wanted to talk over her mom's work with environmental regulations, or projects she was taking on with the envi-sci club at school next year, or balancing swimming with her other extracurriculars.

"Guess we'll find out." Sam carefully kept any apprehension out of her voice. She did want to know about it, as much as Cody wanted to tell her - but she also wanted to keep their first year of high school as normal as possible after junior high's supernatural finale.

"Yeah. I think I've gotten all the shoots on the junipers."

"Alright, thanks Jess. I'm finishing up here, then will have to be getting home. Jackie's leaving for college again tonight, and I think my dad will be coming to see her off as well."

Sam bit her lip at that. She didn't like having to talk about her father. It wasn't like having divorced parents was abnormal - she guessed that was the case for Jess as well, since he never talked about his mom - but she still didn't like having to bring up her father in more detail than necessary.

"Oh, OK. D'you want me to stick around and help clean up?"

"Nah it'll be fine. Ms. Brantwood should be coming by soon anyway, before I lock up."

"Alright." Jess walked over to the open greenhouse door, where he'd leaned his bike against the frame. He paused for a moment, wiping his glasses with the hem of his shirt where they'd fogged up from the quick temperature and humidity shift, squinting in the sun.

Sam had turned back to the peace lilies, arranging them with proper spacing on the low table, fishing the spray bottle where it had disappeared in the thick stand of leaves, pots, and dirt.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" she turned her head over her shoulder to where he was still just outside the door, helmet strapped on, hands on the bike ready to go.

"Can you call me if you hear first when he comes back?"

Sam smiled and exhaled out her nose, relaxed her shoulders. "Of course. You too, OK? You're a lot closer to the water than me."

"Oh definitely." Jess balanced to one side on the bike, ready to kick off. "See'ya!"

"See'ya later Jess."

She heard him head off, wheels crunching over the gravel down to the sidewalk, saw him blurred through the glass walls, disappear as he went around the front of the building.

Grabbing the spray bottle and the clippers, she walked them down to the worn wooden cabinets and coat rack built into the wall next to the greenhouse office, hung her gloves on the hook. She took the broom back over to the peace lily table, made sure she hadn't missed any stray leaves or sprinkles of soil on the wet concrete floor. The bell on the door of the office jingled once as it opened and closed - Ms. Brantwood, the owner, came out then, clipboard in one hand, glasses perched on the end of her nose. Ms. Brantwood always looked like some hybrid of a farmer and a librarian, flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, workboots, her gray hair in a tight bun, glasses held on a colorful beaded strap around her neck.

"Ms. Brathwaite," she said congenially. "Here you go." She handed Sam an envelope.

"Thanks Ms. B." Her paycheck from the summer, headed straight for her college savings once she got home.

"Thanks for all the help this summer! The peace lilies never looked better." She smiled approvingly over at the displays where Sam had spent most of the afternoon. "We'd be happy to have you back again."

"That'd be great! Thank you again for having me" Sam tucked the envelope in her canvass bag, slung it over her shoulder, and started to the door.

"Good luck with high school - it's scary at first but you'll do great."

Sam smiled again and backed out the open door, closing it behind her, the screen making a quick whoosh sound before the door clacked on the wood frame. She shifted her bag on her shoulders and started down the sidewalk for home.

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

"If you really have that much of a problem with it, you can just leave."

Lindsey crossed her arms and leaned back on her kitchen counter, staring down her ex-husband, who was at the bottom of the stairs next to the front door, one hand on the newel post, head hanging down in frustration.

"I don't have a problem, I have an opinion. Goddamnit, do you have to make everything into one of your crusades?"

"I don't have crusades, Steve, I have morals. It's none of your business how she looks, Jackie is a grown woman."

"Staying in a house that I pay to keep you in."

"Don't bullshit me like that. You known damn well I supported us. The house was only ever in my name, for fucks sake. Your child support checks aren't anything we rely on."

"Trust me, they wouldn't exist if the court didn't say so."

Steve glared back at her, the silence tense. Lindsey huffed and went back to packing granola bars and sandwiches in the lunchboxes on the table - snacks to send with Jackie for the car ride to the airport.

"You shouldn't have let her go to that school either."

"She got a full scholarship" Lindsey snapped. She was rapidly reaching the end of her rope with this conversation and was just about ready to throw Steve out of her house if he continued like he was. He was the father of her kids, he technically had visitation rights - but she wouldn't have him talk like this in their house. Thank God Jackie was outside, and Sam still at work.

"Yeah, well, maybe if she'd gone to a state university instead of some liberal arts bullshit, she wouldn't be dressing like some fucking dyke now."

That was it - he was through.

"Get out. Now."

She threw every bit of venom she could into the final word, her gaze ice cold, her knuckles white gripping the edge of the kitchen counter.

Steve sneered cruelly at her as he shifted to  go and roughly put his hand on the door knob. "Wonder where she got that from."

He opened the door quickly to find Sam on the doorstep, her face surprised and pale. Steve stopped, also startled for a moment. He didn't know how much she'd heard - he didn't care. She was grown up enough to start knowing about the real world unfiltered, as far as he was concerned.

"Hey, Dad," she offered shakily, awkwardly. He just looked down at her coldly.

"Good luck in school next year." He turned back for one last glare at Lindsey, then pushed past Sam down the front steps, to his car in the driveway, leaving the front door open. He slammed the car door as he got in, backed down past Lindsey's car into the cul-de-sac where Jackie was standing next to Vanessa's old Jeep, and sped off around the corner, tires spinning harsh squeals, out of the neighborhood.

Jackie and Vanessa quickly looked over at Sam, clearly worried. Jackie walked up across the small front yard, making herself smile sarcastically, trying to conjure humor for her sister who still was frozen and scared-looking on the doorstep.

"Another grand finale and exit from the father of the year, ladies and ladies!" she announced dramatically.  Sam smiled a little at that - Jackie's features relaxed in relief. Vanessa stayed by the Jeep, eyes closed and looking down, fingers pressed to her temples, shaking her head in exasperation.

"Hey, Sam." Jackie looked hard at her, serious. "Don't listen to anything he says. He's an asshole. Got it?"

"Yeah Jackie. Got it." Sam went inside and put her bag down on the floor next to the kitchen table, where Lindsey was aggressively zipping up the lunch boxes. She might have chided Jackie for using that kind of language in front of her, in less charged circumstances.

"I just have one more box upstairs, 'kay Mom?"

"Alright, don't keep Vanessa waiting out there too long though. I'm set to go when you are."

Sam bit her lip and looked down at the wood grain in the kitchen table, at the lines in the linoleum floor. "Mom, I'm going to put my stuff upstairs too, I'll be down to see them off."

Sam quickly took the stairs, two at a time. She tossed her bag on her bed, closed the door, and turned down the hall to Jackie's room.

She was standing at her bureau, small cardboard box in hand, quickly putting her many rings, chokers, and bracelets in, her back to the door. She turned her head, hearing Sam step into the door frame.

"What's up?"

"Jackie, I- something Dad said -"

"Hey, what'd I tell you? Ignore him. He doesn't know shit." Jackie huffed and went back to gathering things off the top of the bureau.

"Yeah I know." Sam looked down, nervous. "But what he said about how you looked, like a...a.."

"A dyke?"

".......yeah."

To Sam's surprise Jackie actually laughed a little, put her last few bits of jewelry in the box, shoved it into her black backpack, covered in pins and patches. She crossed the room and put her hands on her sister's shoulders. She breathed in, and Sam looked up at her a little.

"Listen to me again now. We are strong, modern women. We can look how we want. We can be how we want. It's a new millennium, we can't stay stuck in that patriarchal bullshit forever."

Jackie definitely looked how she wanted - hair spiked up today, black nailpolish, Bikini Kill shirt with cut off sleeves over her black jeans.

"So, does that mean...?"

Jackie smiled and rolled her eyes. "Actually, no. I'm straight, I'm just goth and like to piss off old men." She paused, serious again. "But there'd be nothing wrong with that if I were, Sam. If anyone were."

"Um, oh. Yeah, OK, I jus-"

Jackie's eyes flicked up, past Sam's face and cutting her off, looking past her face to the doorway. Lindsey was standing there, arms folded, lips pursed, her eyes nervous.

She and Jackie held eye contact for a noticeable moment - Sam turned her head to look at her mom as well. Lindsey's eyes calmed and softened almost too quickly to notice.

"You guys about ready to head out?"

"Yeah Mom, we're done." Jackie walked back over and hauled her backpack up onto one shoulder, the buttons rattling into each other with the motion. Sam turned back and walked past her mom, leading the way down the stairs and out the front door. She paused on the doorstep to let them pass. Jackie hoisted her backpack straighter and stopped in front of Sam on the doorstep.

"You know you can always call me if you want. High school can suck sometimes, if you want to talk to someone who already did it you know where to find me."

"Hey, I was in high school once too" Lindsey added, smiling a bit, trying to lighten the mood as well. Jackie rolled her eyes dramatically.

"'kay, how about if you want to talk to someone who did high school within the last hundred years, THEN call me."

Jackie hugged Sam tight, and walked across the grass to where Vanessa was waiting by the car. Vanessa and Jackie both went to college in Philadelphia - Vanessa at Temple University, Jackie at Haverford College. They were on the same flight over - Vanessa's mom was an airline pilot, so would drive the Jeep back home from the airport after they'd left.

Lindsey followed her down to the side of the car, stopping on the curb, arms crossed over her chest. The air had cooled significantly as the sun went down, almost chilly in contrast to the day's heat.

"Call me when you get in, OK?"

"Yeah of course, same as always." Lindsey hugged Jackie and Vanessa, stepped back from the Jeep as they pulled away with the windows down. Jackie turned up the radio, the energetic chugging guitar and drums filling the summer night, bouncing off the houses around the cul-de-sac.

"WOOOOOOOO!!" as Vanessa steered them away from the sidewalk, Jackie looked back with a wild excited smile, hands up in the rock gesture.

"DRIVE SAFE GIRLS" Lindsey called over the loud music, waving as they turned the corner and out of the development, the music fading as they left.

Lindsey stayed looking down the road for a few moments after the Jeep was gone - from where she was leaning against the front door, Sam saw her mom's eyes were a bit wet. Lindsey walked back up the yard and into the house, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Sorry, sorry, just you girls are growing up so fast." She smiled then as they both walked back inside. As she closed the door behind them, she un-did and re-did her bun, pushing back the loose red strands from the day, refreshing, restoring order.

Following their routine pattern, Sam walked to the kitchen, got two glasses of water, handed one to her mom as they both settled at the table.

Lindsey took the glass, gently clinked it against Sam's. "Hydrate or die!" she said cheerfully, familiarly as part of their home-from-work/inside joke ritual they'd organically developed over the summer, with Sam getting back from the greenhouses the same time Lindsey got back from the offices.

"Hydrate or die." Sam replied, smiling. They both sipped their water silently, decompressing from the day, from Steve, from Jackie's departure.

"You got everything you need for next week?"

"Yeah, I'm set on everything. I got paid from Brantwood today too."

"Oh good, I'm going by the bank tomorrow morning, I can deposit it for you."

"Thanks Mom."

Eventually Lindsey got leftovers from the fridge to heat up - dinner passed at a welcomely-uneventful rate, just chatting about work from the day, errands to run. They finished the dishes and Sam filled up one of the watering cans on the counter to bring upstairs to her plants. She'd put the succulents on a nightly watering schedule, better to accommodate the extra heat this time of year without extra evaporation.

"Goodnight Mom."

Lindsey looked up from the reports she had absentmindedly been paging through after finishing the dishes - environmental justice never sleeps. "Night hon. You OK?" Her voice was gentle, but firm enough that she indicated that she was leaving it open if Sam wanted to talk about any of the commotion from earlier.

Maybe not tonight.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Goodnight." Sam was up the stairs and out of sight.

Lindsey closed the folder on the table, shuffled it back into the small pile she'd pulled from her briefcase. She leaned forward, hands on her forehead, taking long, soothing breaths with her eyes closed. She stayed like that a while, listening to Sam moving about above - back and forth around her room with the watering can, down the hall to the bathroom and back, waiting til she heard her door click shut for the night. She got up, quietly pushed her chair back under the table. She filled her glass at the sink, downing it in one draft, slowly and smoothly, letting the coolness spread through her whole body.  Hydrate or die.

Filing folders back into her briefcase could wait til morning. It had been a long day.

END NOTES:

I imagined the song Jackie and Vanessa are listening to is Rebel Girl by Bikini Kill

Tune in next time for more of "which of Sam's supporting cast is going to be a lesbian"

Jackie and Lindsey continue to be fun and interesting to write - maybe future spinoffs? Does it still count as fanfiction when the original characters get spinoffs?

#the thirteenth year #dcom #disney channel original movies #fanfic #homophobic slurs

[rocketpowerreg]

winter’s coming, soon after summer → rc cola

TAGGING → @rocketpowerreg​ @nicoladerocha​ TIME → Saturday, 9/7 Mid-afternoon LOCATION → Reagan’s floral shop NOTES → The one where Nicola and Reggie try to be civil with each other only for Nicola to accidentally reveal to Reggie that her closeted ex from North Carolina was a homophobic, cheating bully  AUTHOR’S NOTES → Remember when Nicola yelled at Reggie last summer? This is worse and she wasn’t even trying to hurt Reggie this time 

REGGIE CLIFFTON

"Mom, I'm good. Really. Promise-- don't worry about me." Reggie muttered into her phone, walking the streets of New York City with a skateboard under arm rather than under her feet, "Yeah, yeah, I know you still will, but don't. Love you, too." And with that, the call ended. While Reggie had had a rough couple of days in her head, she had thought going out and wandering the streets would help. It hadn’t , so the conversation had been a welcome distraction as Reggie aimlessly wandered sidewalk to sidewalk. Though now that she was off the phone, she was taking in the surroundings and recognizing she was by Raegan's flower shop. Rather than just go home she decided it was better to find another distraction. Her first instinct was to go to the shop and see if Rae needed an extra set of hands. But then she remembered the cook book they had talked about Raegan mentioned her shop sold and figured now was as good a time as any to thumb through it. Cooking had become a bigger escape for Reggie as of late. While she couldn't get herself past the mental blockade to get herself to be as physically active as before, at least her culinary skills were getting honed in on. With the anniversary of her injury recently passing, Reg was trying to have her mind be focused on doing something nice for her old soccer team rather than think about the day that completely ended her soccer career. That also had to be a good sign... right? 

"Hey, anybody home? Paying customer coming in, so if you're fucking in the back it's time to come out." Reggie announced, expecting to see the usual suspect of Raegan behind the counter, and potentially Matt coming from under it.

NICOLA DE ROCHA

While working in Reagan’s flower shop wasn’t exactly the job Nicola envisioned herself having post grad, she was so incredibly thankful for it.  April offered her a spot behind the counter at ACup, but Nicola didn’t dare tell her even the espresso machine looked intimidating.  Sure, she wasn’t exactly built for customer service, but she really shone when she was free to arrange the flowers.  What could she say?  Aesthetics were her thing.

As soon as she heard another voice never the shop, Nicola dropped her phone, as if she wasn’t just scrolling through Instagram and made herself look busy.  Her brows knit together as it was Reggie who entered the shop instead of Reagan, “Ew, don’t be vile, Cliffton... the rumored ‘brothel’ is the next block over,” Nicola teased as she occupied herself cutting ribbon like she was supposed to be doing in the first place.

“What are you doing he— “What brings you in today?”  She asked giving herself a major pat on the back for those seamless customer service skills.

REGGIE CLIFFTON

The moment there was a note for Reggie to be less... well, herself, she knew she wasn't running into the redhead she was thinking would be there. Instead, it was the brunette with a bite and a constant thorn in her side Nicola De Rocha. While unexpected, the amused smirk on her face showed it wasn't unwelcomed to see her. Especially in a rubber apron and with dirt potentially under her nails. It was satisfying, albeit, strange, "Nice save, De Rocha," Reggie teased, approaching the counter and turning on her heel to rest her back against it, "if I hadn't grown up knowing what neighborhood you lived in, I might have just figure this was your first job, not your first time living upon the working class." While Reggie didn't know all the details of what happened, she had come by Raegan's shop enough to of known the financial situation of Nicola had changed. Reggie wasn't the type to judge things like that, especially because in truth, she thought pretty fondly of Nicola. They came from different parts of the same state, and had been background players in each other's and Spencer's lives. Having that relationship change into something more of its own entity was also welcomed by Reggie. Her attention scanned over the shop, taking in all the various flowers, gardening supplies, and products that were currently on sale.

"I wanted to check out this cook book Raegan said she had in stock. It looks like things have gotten a little rearranged since the last time I was here," her head turned and eyes landed on Nicola with a knowing smiling, "I'm gonna take a wild guess you had a hand in making that happen, didn't you? When you can't change outfits as much, you might as well change shop." Laying it on thick was practically Regina's specialty, but she liked to think the both of them had thick enough skin and a complicated enough history that all the teasing was assumed to be from a good place. Usually.

NICOLA DE ROCHA

Nicola served an exaggerated eye roll as Reggie spoke next, but chose not to reply.  Maybe this was some sort of karmic revenge on Nicola.  She was known for making biting remarks concerning the neighborhood Reggie grew up in back In North Carolina after all.  Even before Nicola’s financial situation changed her eyes were peeled open to her born privilege.  It wasn’t lost on her that even now as she needed to work for a paycheck at a day job, her parents would bail her out it it really came down to it.  Being cut off started a point of contention between Nicola and Emilio de Rocha, and Nicola wanted to prove she didn’t need Daddy’s credit cards to make it in New York.

“Yes, I did have a hand in this, in fact I did it just to annoy you,” Nicola teased as she made her way from behind the counter.  As much as she wanted to leave Reggie to find the item herself, she figured she might as well make herself useful.  While potentially earn back some karmic points from all the times she made digs at Reggie’s expense.

“I believe you’ll find what you’re looking for in the newly reorganized kitchen goods section,” she offered doing her best Vanna White impression as she showed off the section of books.

REGGIE CLIFFTON

There was no denying that Nicola had a personality to her. Even when she was having to adjust to a world she used to look down on people for being part of, Reggie couldn't help but notice she kept her sharp wit and graceful elegance as if nothing changed at all. It was impressive as hell, but mostly, it was entertaining to lay witness to, "Oh ho ho, how fancy this place has become," Reggie pointed out playful exaggeration, pushing off the counter to make her way towards the designated section and bowing her head in polite thanks as she neared Nicola, "I'd say I'd like to buy a vowel, or maybe a book, but Lane seems to insist on having a 'people don't actually pay for things' policy." Reggie joked, knowing there was a a glimmer of truth to the statement. 

 Her eyes darted to the shelf, skimming cover to cover until they landed on the book in question. Or the one she assumed it was-- there would at least be some recipe she could use most likely, "It must be weird working for someone who's loaded. And someone like Raegan-- she's kind of like the nice version of the people from Wilmington. Which it makes sense that people like her weren't actually in it. The place might’ve been too bearable that way." Reggie glanced up and winked at Nicola. Sure, she did mostly mean the statement, but it wasn't meant to be a dig at the girl herself. In the past it might have been, but not anymore. Somehow, Reggie was sure she knew what she meant now that Nicola's horizons had broadened beyond that of their county lines and parents bank accounts.

NICOLA DE ROCHA

Not even Nicola could pretend like she could take any credit for Reagan’s shop being as elegant as it was.  She was simply given the creative space to make adjustments if it suited the aesthetic.  The changes could potentially catch fresh eyes and draw in new customers, maybe those business classes would be a total waste after all!  “I have noticed she runs her business like a Salvation Army, but it’s kind of sweet,” Nicola shrugged before adjusting one of the nearby bouquets.  “I mean it’s a terrible business model, but something tells me Reagan isn’t in this for the money.” 

 Nicola wanted to take offense to the comment made about the people from her hometown, but Reggie was kind of right.  Most of the people back in Wilmington were at best snobs and she chose not to think about what they were like at their worst.  “I want to argue with you but I’m constantly reminded that Spencer’s parents are Wilmington’s exception not the rule.  You should see what my old social circle is up to,” she added with an eye roll, this one surprisingly not in Reggie’s direction.  “They are all collectively turning into the worst kind of people."

REGGIE CLIFFTON

Grabbing the book off the shelf, Reggie let her focus be on thumbing through the pages of the recipes inside. If she was actually cooking, holding a conversation wouldn't be something she would want to continue. However, she was having a pleasant conversation with Nicola and that warranted to be enjoyed. The two didn't have a lot in common, and not in the cute way like Nicola and Spencer had. It was in a way where if they managed to not just stand awkwardly around each other, that was a feat. Maybe the two of them had changed in NYC more than it seemed. At least now they could poke fun at the people from back home together. 

 "Sorry, did you just say your old social circle? 'cause damn, they must really be some pieces of work if you're not even wanting to call them 'friends.'" Reggie playfully pointed out, looking back up at Nicola as she shifted her weight to lean on the display case, "But I believe it. No offense on anything, but I always hated whenever I went to your guy's school. You could just feel the judgement in the hallways. I don't know how you or Porter dealt with it daily."

NICOLA DE ROCHA

“They were hardly friends when I was in high school,” Nicola offered with a shrug.  Of course that realization had only come with the luxury of time, back then she was loyal to all they represented— being popular and more importantly being accepted.  They accepted her but that was because she stifled the parts of herself they wouldn’t have.  Nicola’s eyes darted to the book in Reggie’s hands at the mention of Spencer, considering she was the one who had to deal with the brunt of it all.  “None taken.  Considering I actively contributed to the culture… I really have no room to take offense.” 

 A thought occurred to Nicola as she remembered the atrocious group photo that had just popped up in her Facebook memories this morning.  Nicola pulled her phone out of the apron pocket, “Want to see a photo?  A throwback Thursday as the youths say,” she chuckled as she held up her phone.  “Bonus points if you can point out my beard."

REGGIE CLIFFTON

While Reggie was having no trouble scanning through the recipes and listening to Nicola, truthfully, Reggie had zoned out near the end. It wasn't Nicola's fault, or even Reggie's, it was just habit from having to learn drown Matt out since they had become roommates. So for a few seconds, Nicola's phone didn't get Reggie's attention and just remained suspended near her face. It was the few seconds of silence that made Reggie glance back up from the pages she was analyzing to be faced with a picture. One she had never seen before, but it had more than one familiar face.

"Jesus, what the fu-" Reggie started, her surprise quickly getting replaced with undivided attention. She stood straight up, hand reaching out to steady Nicola's phone and get a complete look of the photo. Her brow knitted together, eyes zeroed in on one face and one face only. A girl with dark hair, deep green eyes, and a smile Reggie knew all to well. Yet she could not even begin to understand what her ex-girlfriend was doing in a picture with Nicola DeRocha. Or any of what she called her social circle. Reggie desperately needed to know more, "Who is that? The chick between you and that guy? What's her deal?" Reggie had to stop herself from asking 'why is she there' as that was one she wasn't sure she would get, or want, an answer to .

NICOLA DE ROCHA

Honestly Nicola thought she was being playful and self deprecating by showing Reggie this photo.  It was the closest she’d ever had to an awkward phase, “Reggie, I have braces in this photo and I”m desperately hanging off a boy’s shoulder… this is prime roast material!”  Nicola’s eyes glanced back to the photo, and out of all eight teenagers posed, she couldn’t for the life of her understand why she’d focus in on Jinny Edwards of all people.

Foremost Nicola answered Reggie’s question with an eyeball, but maybe enough time had passed since high school where Nicola could find the humor in this situation.  “Jenna Edwards.  I don’t know what she’s up to these days because she blocked me everywhere, but at least she gave me an excuse to break up with my beard by making out with him a bunch junior year.  Still a total bitch move though, ya know?"

REGGIE CLIFFTON

Jenna Edwards 

 So it was was her. 

She blocked me everywhere 

Her Jinny had done that too. It absolutely was her. 

... making out with him a bunch junior year 

No. No. It couldn't of been her. 

Reggie felt a lump in her throat and looked at Nicola with eyes a little too dark to fully express how lost she felt hearing these things. Reggie and Jenna had been together for months by the time she transferred schools. Going to different schools didn't matter, her being in the closet didn't matter, her parents barely liking Reggie even as a friend didn't matter. It had made things harder, but they had never broken up before college. Not until after Reggie’s accident and certainly well after junior year of fucking high school. To say Reggie's mind was racing was putting it lightly, and it wasn’t helping her throat was closing up. It was getting hard to speak-- to say anything.

 "She... what?" Bewildered, that was her tone. She was at a loss, "He cheated on you with her? That's not... you're kidding right? You sure you're talking about the chick with the freckles?" On one hand, Reggie was pretty composed for someone who was feeling sick to her stomach. On another, it probably just seemed like she was surprised someone cheated on Nicola. Two things could be true, but she was much more focused on getting the truth on who Nicola knew Jinny Edwards to be and who Reggie had been perhaps too blind to see all along. 

NICOLA DE ROCHA

“I know, right?”  Fell a little too quickly from Nicola’s lips when Reggie seemed to be in disbelief that Nicola got cheated on.  At least that’s what it sounded like to her ears, and while she deemed Reggie’s doubt warranted… it wasn’t like Nicola had been a faithful girlfriend either, but least she had the good sense to trade up!  Nicola zoomed in on the photo, so it was cropped upon her ex and the girl in question, “Don’t let the freckles fool you, she was an obnoxious bully,” Nicola recalled with a shake of her head.  It wasn’t like the rest of her friends were much better, but as snobby as they were they never tore Nicola down.  At least now directly to her face.  “She called me d*ke-cola once— to moderate laughter, when I left a party early to hang out with Spencer.  I refuse to believe she clocked me by the way!  She was just being a bitch."

REGGIE CLIFFTON

A misunderstanding was all Reggie was hoping for at this point, but the moment Nicola had the picture zeroed in on Jinny there was no possible way this was. Nicola was a woman of many things, being this cruel wasn't one of them-- it was clear she had no idea who Jinny really was.  Or more like she didn't know Jinny's role in Reggie's life.  That part didn't surprise Reggie considering all the lengths she had gone through to keep them a secret. Hanging out in public was almost always met with a No, her going to Reggie's soccer games happened only before Jinny transferred, meeting any of her new friends from her new school was completely out of the question since Jinny said she "didn't have any," and the possibility of being together to the world wouldn't be allowed until they were in college-- far, far away from North Carolina. During the course of their relationship it had become frustrating keeping up with the rules, but Regina loved her. Jinny loved Reggie. And the world had told Reggie for years that love made everything worth it in the end... 

 It was now making sense why the couple winded up where they did. 

Throughout all the years since their break up, Regina had lamented herself for becoming a spiteful, awful person after her accident, especially to Jinny. For years Regina had seen Jinny as someone good in the world she had completely broke the heart and soul of from their constant fights near the end. She had never considered Jinny to be someone keeping secrets from her... especially ones of her bullying others with homophobia. The lips Regina had kissed and loved had also went around the school hallways saying slurs as jokes. It was sickening. It was infuriating. And god it was heartbreaking.

"I- uh, yeah. Sure. Maybe." was all Reggie managed to get out to Nicola after far too long of a silence. It was hardly answer but it was all she had after staring far too long at the photo again. Though, to be fair, Reggie wasn't exactly feeling the most present at the moment due to how much of her past just got shattered. She was beginning to feel herself questioning everything and it was getting to be heavy- too heavy. Reggie was starting to feel the weight of Nicola's words and the past actions of Jinny crushing her bit by bit. She felt like she was going to faint, or that the ground would swallow her up. For a moment, Reggie wished it would, because she couldn't stay where she was any longer. She needed to leave. She needed to stop looking at this picture. She needed to do fucking something. 

"Look, I... I gotta go, De Rocha, I can't fucking be here anymore," Reggie quickly tossed out, shoving the phone back towards Nicola as she could no longer keep looking at the picture. She didn't mean to have such a bite to her words, but currently Reggie's emotions were a little on the edge. Yet she didn't want Nicola to ask questions either, "I just... I feel sick or something so I'm... I'm gonna go. Thanks. I-I mean, sorry-- whatever. Fuck it. Who cares?" She muttered, looking for her skateboard so she could leave. The tone of Reggie's voice ranged all over: sincere, to unsure, to seemingly pissed. She could have explained herself better, but Reggie was in no place to. All she wanted was to get the hell out of Reagan's flower shop. She had no plans besides that. Given the entirety of what she thought to be true of her past was now in shambles, thinking beyond the current moment was impossible. Much like how her finding a way to get past this felt.

#*para: 016 #*para: all #*para: nicola #*c: nicola

[magickmoons]

At the Right Time

square filled: model!Cas ship: pre-Destiel rating: teen ao3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13666110 tags: meet cute, all-human AU, photo shoot, horses, Dean to the rescue summary: Castiel is just going through the motions anymore. Then comes a photo shoot at Winchester Farms... word count: 1965 written/created for @spnaubingo

My Master List

"But I don't know anything about horses!" Cas complained, eyeing the horses by the fence with concern. The makeup artist fluttering about him tsked at him to hold still.

"And if I were asking you to deliver a letter by Pony Express, that would be a problem. As it is, all you have to do is shut up, sit on it, and look pretty enough to sell .... what the hell are we selling today?" Crowley snapped his fingers insistently and Meg appeared.

"Cologne, I think," she answered, shuffling through papers.

Crowley's attention had already shifted. "No, no, no!" he shouted at someone as he strode  across the paddock. "That's completely wrong for this shot. Are you a total and complete imbecile?"

Meg flipped him the bird, then turned back to Castiel. "You'll be fine, Castiel. You get up, you sit, you smile, it'll be over." She patted Cas on the shoulder, adding, "And undo another button on the shirt."

Fingers -- not his own -- were unbuttoning his shirt as she spoke. Hands were on his face, in his hair, and he just stood there, letting them turn him this way and that, eyeing him critically, consulting each other about his hair, his clothes. He tried to tune it all out, tried to ignore the feeling that he was nothing more than a posable doll, but that had been getting harder to do lately. The excitement he had felt in the early days of modeling had faded long ago. But this was his job, after all, and he was being well compensated for it. Even the paychecks however had a hard time making up for the empty feeling these shoots were leaving him with.

He needed a break, maybe even permanent retirement. He knew that; he just couldn't find the right time to make the move.

***

Being on the horse wasn't as bad as he had feared. The animal was big, certainly, but there was a certain euphoria he felt sitting astride it. Maybe he would have to think about taking lessons someday.

"Cassie, love, stop looking down at the horse," Balthazar shouted. "Your public wants to see those lovely bedroom eyes. I don't want Dr. Doolittle. I want sinful, smouldering sex!"

Cas looked up, smouldered for the camera, and Balthazar made slightly less displeased noises. Behind him, Crowley was yelling at an intern who was headed to the decrepit old staff car. To their left, cas could see a man riding up on a black horse. He started to wonder if the new guy was another model for the shoot or an employee of the stables when a sharp sound echoed through the air around them, and the previously docile horse under Castiel startled ... and sprinted away.

He could hear people yelling behind him, but all Cas could do was grab onto the reins and hold on for dear life. He thanked whoever looked out for foolish models that the gate was open and that the horse made right for it instead of trying to jump the fence. He lost track of time -- surely it had only been a few minutes at most, but it somehow felt both instantaneous and interminable before there was a horse beside him.

It was the black horse -- definitely not another model then, Cas thought hysterically -- as the riding paced his horse, angling it to gently off its course, whistling and making other apparently calming sounds. The horse Cas was on started slowing to an easy jog, then a walk, and eventually stopped.

Cas sat as still as possible, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Are you all right?" Cas looked over at his rescuer and found the greenest eyes he had ever seen staring at him in concern.

"I ... yes, I think I am." His heart was racing and he felt sore all over, but he was in one piece. "Thank you, um...."

"Dean Winchester," the stranger said with an easy smile -- as if saving stray models from runaway horses was no big deal. "This is my family's farm."

Cas deliberately unclenched his hands from their death grip on the reins, rubbing at the grooves across his palms.

"I am really sorry about this. They were supposed to put you up on Foxtrot, he's a real gentleman. But apparently not as photogenic as Whiskey here." Dean leaned forward and patted the horse's neck soothingly. "She's a good girl, but still a little skittish. Unfortunately, when the snooty guy in the suit insisted on the switch, I was up at the house, and the groom on site wasn't quite able to stand up to him."

"I quite understand. Crowley can be ...."

"A dick?"

Cas laughed. "To put it succinctly."

"Hmmm. People usually just say I'm an ass. I think I like succinct better." He looked back the way they had come. "So, it's not too far back to your people. You want to ride, or walk?

"Walk, please," Cas responded with conviction.

Dean dismounted with an obscene grace and walked over to Cas, holding a hand out to help him off his horse. He took the reins from both horses in his hand and motioned for Cas to walk with him.

"You been riding long?"

Cas almost looked around to see who Dean was talking to. "No, I've never ridden a horse before."

Dean whistled, impressed. "I'm really damn impressed that you stayed up, then. You've got a great seat."

"Sheer survival instinct," Cas replied.

"Well, it works for you, Cas," Dean laughed.

Cas tilted his head looked over at Dean. "You know my name?"

Dean's eyes widened, and a flush spread across his face. "Oh, uh. Well... yeah. I mean, you're pretty well-known. I musta just picked it up somewhere. But, sorry, I  mean we haven't even been actually introduced and I'm using your nickname and --"

"It's fine, Dean. I think saving me from a runaway horse entitles you to a little familiarity." Not to mention the way Cas's heart had jumped just a little at the sound of Dean's voice forming his name. It  had been a long time since he'd felt anything like that. He definitely wanted Dean to keep talking. He wondered if it would be too forward to ask Dean out for coffee

"You grew up here?"

"Yep." Dean beamed as he looked around. "I love this place. Been in my family for a few generations now. Can't imagine any place more beautiful. Or more peaceful."

Cas looked over the rolling green pastures up to the tree-shaded mountains in the distance. Unseen birds chirped and chattered. It was peaceful, and beautiful, and so alive.

"'Course it's probably nothing next to what you've seen. All over the country, hell, even the world. You must have seen some really amazing things.

"My life is probably not as glamorous as you might think. There are times ... "

He sighed when he realized they were almost back to the main paddock, where a crowd of people was waiting. Balthazar was right in front, snapping away as they approached.

"You, cowboy!" Crowley's voice rang out. "You need to come sign these papers."

Dean frowned. "I've already signed everything."

"We need permission to use your image in the campaign."

"What?" Cas asked.

"What?" Dean echoed.

"The two of you walking back. The mountains, the sun, the horses -- just perfect, darling." Balthazar practically purred. "He'll sign, right? These pictures are magic! It would be a travesty not to use them."

Meg thrust a sheaf of papers and a pen in front of a bemused Dean.

He glanced at them briefly, then yelled, "Hey Sammy!"

A tall, handsome man walked over and Balthazar jabbed Castiel in the ribs. "Are all horsemen were this sexy?" He looked between Dean and 'Sammy.' "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Dean glared at Balthazar. "Dude. Not cool. This is my brother, Sam Winchester. He's a lawyer." He shoved the papers into Sam's hand. "Read this and tell me if I'm signing my soul away. I've got to go take care of Whiskey." He turned to Crowley. "Any other pictures you want, you take on Foxtrot. End of story." He pivoted on his heel and led the two horses away before Cas had a chance to say anything else.

Everyone stood there watching as Dean disappeared into the stable. Then Crowley barked, "What's everyone standing around for? Let's get back to it, people!"

***

Although Cas kept an eye out through the rest of the shoot, he didn't see Dean again. Crowley disappeared for a while and came back looking pretty satisfied, so Cas assumed that Dean had signed the release paperwork.

When they started packing up, Cas found himself lingering much longer than he normally would after a shoot: half hoping Dean would turn up, and half trying to absorb as much of the living energy of the area as possible.

"Something I can help you with, Clarence?"

Meg looked entirely too amused when Castiel turned to face her. "No, thank you, Meg. I'm just enjoying the feel of this place."

"Sure. This ... place ... is quite attractive." She nodded over his shoulder. "Hey there, Dean."

Cas narrowed his eyes, unsure if she was baiting him or not, until he heard Dean's voice. "Meg. Cas, I was hoping to catch you."

"Well, you almost missed him. Last car's about to leave, Castiel. You do have a flight to catch."

"I'll just be a minute, Meg."

She pursed her lips, then threw her hands up in the air.  "One minute, Castiel. You miss your flight, Crowley will feed me to his dogs." She stalked over to the car and leaned against the side. At Cas's glare, she at least pretended to divert her attention to her phone.

"Dean," he said warmly as he turned back to find him shuffling nervously.

"So, yeah, don't wanna make you late. It's not ... Just, y'know, if you ever just want to take a break, we've got a couple of guest rooms up at the house. You'd be welcome to come hang around. I could even give you some riding lessons." He coughed abruptly. "Horses. Ride horses. Lessons for riding horses. You know what? Never mind. This was such a bad idea." His face was flaming red as he took a step away from Cas.

Cas stepped forward until he was well within Dean's personal space. "Not a bad idea. A very, very good idea."

Dean's eyes lit up and a soft smile curved his lips.

"That's great, then. Um..." He dug a business card out of his pocket and held it up between them. "Stable's info on the front, my personal cell is on the back. Anytime you're free."

"I'll have to check my commitments, but I would like to come back as soon as possible."

"Works for me."

Dean licked his lips as Cas stepped so close they were almost touching. For a moment, they stood still, watching each other. Then they were kissing -- Cas couldn't tell to save his life who had ultimately made the move -- a soft, almost tentative, press of lips that he felt in his very core. Before he got more than the faintest taste, a car horn beeped.

He pulled back to see Meg looking almost genuinely apologetic. She tapped her wrist.

"You gotta go," Dean murmured.

"I will be back."

Not trusting himself to allow only one more kiss, he stepped back, taking the card from Dean's hand and nodding. He looked back once he had settled himself in the car to see Dean still watching and waved. As the car drove away, he pulled out his phone and entered Dean's phone number before he began composing an email to Crowley instructing him to decline any new jobs for the time being.

It was definitely time to take a break.

#spnaubingo #model!cas #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #pre-destiel #all human au #au #photo shoot #horses #ani's fanfic #meg masters #crowley #balthazar #sam winchester

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Saving the Siblings - A Dark Angel Lomax AU 2

What would have happened around C.R.E.A.M--when Max and Logan still weren't that close yet--if they'd agreed to have a more sibling-esque relationship? How would the entire rest of the story played out differently? But Lomax will still be endgame in this, I swear. https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/21821767

Author’s Note: I remember nothing about Vada’s personality from the books, so I’m making it all up myself. Yep. Also, this "episode" is technically "411 on the DL", but things are playing out somewhat differently than they did there, because of the ripple effect of Max and Logan deciding to try and just be sibling-like themselves. "So, lemme get this straight," Original Cindy said the next morning, as she and Max pedaled into Jam Pony and Normal glared at them for being late. "You told Hot Boy ya just want 'im to be your brother. And he took it well? Even though ‘e looked at chu all dreamy-eyed, when we talked about chu?" Max scoffed. And even in being a genetically engineered killing machine, who had grace like no other, she still almost ran into Normal's desk because of the absurdity of what Original Cindy had just said "OC! I highly doubt he did that! Logan and I aren't like that. And, yeah… he took it well. Goes to show that not all men think with their third leg, huh?" Original Cindy seemed doubtful about that, but didn't comment any further. Which was probably a good thing. Normal was currently snapping at them for being late and telling them to "bip bip bip", as he shoved packages into both of their hands. Max was about to take hers to its intended destination with no reaction, when suddenly she caught something with her cat-like eyes. This package had been slightly ripped open, and within it was a newspaper article. A newspaper article with her barcode number on it and an address. Normal, unfortunately, noticed what Max had done and was quick to try and take the package out of her hands. But she fought against him. "Hey, Missy! That right there is private property! You had no right to do that, and it’s coming out of your paycheck!" "Yeah, sure, whatever," Max said with a calm façade as she handed the package back to Normal, knowing he wouldn't trust her to deliver it now and that he needed to patch the rest of it up before he gave it to another deliverer, anyway On the inside, Max was panicking. With her number being in the paper, was it Lydecker trying to draw her out of one of her sibs trying to contact her? "You okay, Suga?" Original Cindy asked, in having seen Max become less of a fog bank there, in actually showcasing some real emotion right there… fear. And even though Max was trying to improve her relationship with everyone in her day to day life, by being more honest with them (save for Logan, perhaps, because of the mess of a situation she’d gotten them into), Max lied yet again when she turned to her soul sister with a sugary sweet smile on her face. “Of course I am.” ... The forefront of Max, as she was out in Seattle delivering a different package for Normal, of course thought that the whole thing had to be a trap. Of course it was that... how could it be anything else? But there was a stupid, rebellious part of her that hadn’t listened to warnings about “phony sentimentality”, that wanted to go check out this address… that she was thinking was a Playfair Cipher. But what was the key word to decode it? Despite how Max had at first not wanted to go see Logan about this—because surely he'd care that she was going to go risk her life, and would thus do away with their whole: "we're going to pretend to be siblings to each other” shtick for the moment—she found that she had to… she just needed his advice on this, like no other’s. When Max reached Logan's suite in Fogle Towers—and broke into it to get in, once again—the first thing she saw was Logan clearly coming out of the shower, as he pulled a towel off of his neck and put a shirt on... And almost immediately he was pissy: Max could read it on his face, probably because he couldn't come out of the shower on his feet any other hot-blooded male. Most of the time, Max didn't understand men at all... and so she pretended to not notice his tude, and prayed that he would leave it alone, too. "Max, what are you doing here?" Logan asked with great caring in his tone, as he wheeled over to where she was in his living room. Apparently, he was going to be civil today; and in thinking that he needed to be rewarded for that, Max winked at him before she instantly regretted it and tried to awkwardly move the conversation along. "So, Logan... dilemma time. Someone has put my barcode in the paper—and it’s like opening the front page and finding my undies, I tell you--and have put an address on where to meet up via a Playfair Cipher…. I just figured out that the key word was ‘Maxie’. But get this: when figured out, it leads to Vogelsang's address... Clearly, I can't go, right? I mean, it's obviously a trap. Vogelsang must have been compromised… and found out things about me, he shouldn't know." Logan opened his mouth once—and via his pinched eyebrows, and the way he seemed about to motion that Bling should come in here to also talk sense into her, perhaps, Max could tell he'd been about to tell her not to go, too—but then closed it, before opening it again to say something he hadn’t been planning on before, she guessed. "I think, Max," Logan said, as he now wheeled away from her to put some distance between them, which immediately had Max feeling suspicious and offended as she put her hand on her hip and glared at him. "That it's one of two options. One, Vogelsang is trying to lure you into a trap or maybe even has a conscience and wants to warn you away from one... but would he really bite the hand that already abuses him? I don't know... I also don't know if he's clever enough to use such a cipher for you. “But I don't think it's Manticore trying to lure you out. They'd think you'd be too smart for it. And with their pride—even though you're all smarter than they are—I think they’d make the code more difficult to figure out… so I do think it might be one of your siblings." "And you think I should go after them," Max finished, as she straightened back up and chose to walk towards the man who was living dangerously right now, and suggesting that she risk her life. Again. Max tried to be happy about this news… that it could have been Zack, or Jondy, or Tinga, or any of the other siblings she normally would have been happy to risk her life for the chance to see… but she couldn’t quite get there… Something about Logan stepping into that role for her, making her less likely to want to give up what she’d built for herself in Seattle, mayhap? Outside, it had started raining again—as it always did here in Seattle... particularly when she and Logan were about to make a dumb choice about each other, and the Blue Lady sensed they needed some cold in the air in order to cool themselves off before they did that--and Logan said, "Yes... as a- a brother to you now, I suggest that you go. And I know if it were me, and I had siblings, I would." And so that only left one thing for Max to do, didn’t it? And she reluctantly smiled at Logan, for giving her the advice she had wanted… even though she didn’t know if she should do that or not, for so many reasons. ... Max went to Vogelsang’s before the specified time marked on the newspaper. She needed to stake the place out before anything unsavory happened there, and she was. And while her sibling could have been at good as subterfuge as she was right now (Max had decided to go into the ocean before she came here, to hopefully erase her scent from Manticore guard dogs if they were here, and had painted herself in black to even moreso fit in with the night), she just assumed they weren't here yet. But eventually, she saw a shock of short, blond hair a few floors above her—that could have been Ben, Zack, or Jack… if fate had been kind in some alternate universe for that last one, that was—and she jumped up that way herself, through the windowless opening and to the tenth floor... that looked a lot like a parking garage to Max. And once there, she saw who could have only been Zack—he looked just like she remembered, and she found herself blinking back tears and gasping at the mere thought of it—as he seemed to try and reach for an invisible person before them... Finally, Zack sensed Max—and whirled around with his fists out and one foot forward, clearly ready to fight—before Max washed the gunk off her face to show him who she clearly was… she was the only X5 kid who had had these kinds of features, after all. "Zack, it's me. It's Max. If you don't believe me, come around behind me and look at my barcode. I’ll put my arms up and not move." But her eyes must have been sincere... or he must have recognized her voice, or even now—and certainly not have just have memorized every inch of her because he loved her, Max would later try and lie to herself—because the next thing Max knew, she was in Zack's arms as he held onto her for dear life... and as Max clung to this brother of hers, she tried to breathe in all of what she thought she'd been missing for so long... but she felt nothing. "Maxie... is that really you?" Zack asked, as he buried his face in the crook of her neck... and a part of her beginning to go into heat, no doubt, wanted to kiss him for that action. "We thought- we all thought you were dead! That if you were alive, you would have found us all by now... So to honor you, we decided that—at least this first time—that if one of us ever went back to Manticore and we then heard they’d broken out… That I would put your barcode in the paper with this address, so they’d know where to find me for help. Right now, we’re waiting for Vada." "Vada? …As in that sweet sister of ours, who actually cared about makeup even back at Manticore? And tried to emulate what she saw on some of the guards’ faces with chalk?” And it was just as Max asked that, that said girl came up the flight of stairs that led to this garage on her motorcycle. And this didn’t really take Max aback… all X-series transgenics were spectacular with these vehicles, as it must have been in their makeup. …But this almost seemed too scripted to Max. And Vada seemed too sure of herself, if the hounds from Hell really were supposed to be on her tail… Her hair was also so long—something that Max couldn't imagine that would lend to her fighting for her life well… unless she had been on a deep cover op from Manticore for this, and had had to look as normal as possible for it… And if she’d done that quest for them like a little girl without trying to escape then… what were the chances that she had tried to leave now? "Vada!" Zack exclaimed the moment he saw her, with a wide smile on his face as he began walking over her to greet her. And Max couldn't believe that their CO Zack, of all people, was forgetting his training and exposing himself to the enemy so easily! Max got it, she did. Having a sister captured and rescued so easily must have been a dream come true to Zack, on the off-chance they ever tried to do this kind of thing again… but it was too good to be true, was the thing. "Zack... Listen to me… Do you really think Lydecker would have let Vada escape so easily? This is Lydecker we’re talking about! Who probably knew from our genetic makeup, just how long we could stay underwater. But he made us try it to tortured us, anyway!" Zack looked at Max furiously then—as Vada just seemed to look at them blankly—and here Max had thought that if anyone would have been arguing one of the others might have been turned, it would have been Zack and not her. But as far as Max was concerned, her life was making less and less sense all the time. "Max," Zack argued, as he reached to put a hand on her shoulder but then swiftly pulled it away, as if he'd been burnt. "There's no way Vada was turned! You should know that better than anyone! Our siblings always meant the most to you… and we all know how to forget things, even when under torture from Psy-Ops." "Actually, dear brother, Max is right. You should have listened to her,” said a sickeningly sweet voice in Max's ear—as she heard a gun being cocked behind her and felt it being pressed against her temple. Fuck. TCs had used grappling guns to get up here the same way she and Zack had, huh? Somehow, Max hadn’t stopped to think that anyone would be that well prepared at all. With how long she’d been free without Lydecker finding a trace of her, for the most part, Max had just assumed he had his thumb up his butt… but apparently that wasn’t the case. She sighed. "Vada," Max breathed, as she put her hands on her head. "Why are you doing this, dear sister? Do tell. Did they break you in Psy-Ops that easily? You were always more weak-willed than the rest of us." Max had expected Vada to hiss at her, and instruct the man under her command to hit her with the butt of the gun or something. But she did no such thing. Instead, her breath hitched in her throat and blinked back tears. And suddenly it hit Max that maybe Vada wasn’t as willing a participant in this as she’d first suspected, if she’d tried to give them a heads-up with her words. And the men behind Max and Zack—three of them actually had him in a chokehold—must have started to realize Vada was teetering on which side she was on here, because this time Max did have the gun slammed into her face… and it disoriented her some, as blood got into her eye. But she carried on, anyway. "Vada... you were reprogrammed back at Manticore, right? You never got out... this mostly was a trap for us. But at the same time, sister, I don't think you're completely buying their shit, either. Because otherwise, you wouldn't feel a thing about burning us. So, what? You're in the land of question marks now? Well, get out of it and do something, one way or another." That seemed to make something click within Vada... and Max could see warmth in her sister's eyes, even while she blocked their only exit: the kind that she'd seen reflected in her own so many times when she was with children... Could it have been that Vada was a mother and remembering that she had a child to return to? Where all X5 women particularly maternal? "Vada, please.” This time it was Zack: looking at their sister with begging baby blues that Max wanted to swim in, as her womb chose that moment to feel really empty. Damned heat! Max thought, as she slapped herself across the face before her hormones could make her want to jump the men holding her hostage, even. Before Zack could say anymore, at least ten Manticore men showed up behind Vada at the door… and she surprised everyone, as she suddenly powered her bike and mowed them all down with a vengeance. And just like that, both Max and Zack were done playing the pacifists. Zack took care of the three on him, as he jumped into the air and kicked at one’s leg—breaking it—and broke another’s neck with his hands… before landing on the third and beating their face in. Max, meanwhile, did some of the aerial attacks that she was known for. She did a backflip into the air, and knocked her guy out as she kicked out… but not before winking at him. She then punched out a man who was trying to grab her while she was in the air and landed on a girl’s neck… Max pinched the pressure point on the back of their neck—which felt good, somehow: that a Manticore soldier could have a weakness in that spot, too—and wished her sweet dreams. And that left only five new soldiers who had heard the chaos and were coming up to investigate behind Vada. "Zack, Max quick! Get on the motorcycle!” she begged. The two X5s didn’t have to be asked twice. They did just what their sister said, and ran these five men down as they made their mistake… and swept past a witless Lydecker once again. ... When Zack had left Vada under Max’s care (at least temporarily, as he went to get alcohol to celebrate their sis coming back to them… though Max herself wasn’t so confident about it yet), she had thought about taking her over to Logan's—because she had to.. because for whatever reason, she still had feelings for him, Max scolded herself—but in the end, she didn't. And this time it wasn't just because she was trying to keep them at the "just friends" level: it was because Max knew she'd have to rehabilitate Vada... and if her sister snapped and killed people, she really didn't want her to take out the beacon of all things good and true, Eyes Only. And while Max thought it was potentially more dangerous for Vada to be around Kendra—since Kendra had no training to be a "soldier", and hadn't signed up for any of this—she also was thinking that Vada would see that Kendra was a civilian (like Vada’s own baby girl, if Max was right about that) and take it easy on her... Or so she was hoping that, anyway. "So, yeah, Kendra," Max was telling her roommate now--loud enough so Vada could hear her, but not so much that she'd make Kendra realize there was anything weird about them… which wasn’t that easy to juggle. "This is my long-lost sister, Vada. She's gonna be staying with us for a while, if that's cool, until she can get things squared away with her family." Max put her hypothesis about Vada into her words, partly to see if she'd get a reaction from her that would prove Max right… and to assure Vada that if she did have a family... she was going to sort it out and go back there soon, so she wasn't constantly endangering Max’s roomie here. "Okay, Max," Kendra said as she paused in the translations she was making for her students and gave Max a considering look. "But one day you're going to have to dish about all this family drama of yours.” Oh. So, it seemed that that Kendra was still suspicious of what Cindy had told her had happened while she'd been in jail, after all. If that was the case—and she kept putting two and two together—then Max supposed might not have a choice on that front. "Soon enough, Kendra," said Max with a slight smile, shocking even herself with it. "Soon enough." At that point, Kendra had decided to go to bed—as she was tired from a long day of work—and Max perched on the footrest at the end of the couch Vada occupied in their living room. She did this so her sister would know that she was there and find comfort in it, perhaps, but also so she was elevated in case the other brunette decided to attack. It must have been the feline DNA in her making these decisions... because this way, Max knew she'd be able to see Vada move the moment she decided to attack—if she did that—and could then easily leap into her beloved air to fight. And Vada must have noticed that Max was somewhat skittish—though Max hated thinking of herself that way. And if she could've, she probably would have banned it from the English language after tonight—because Vada ended up answering Max's question from earlier as she nudged her leg with her foot. "You're right, Max. I do have a family... Damn. Why I ever let Lydecker turn me against them, I don't know... And I feel even worse in trying to help him bag you and Zack. I'm so sorry." "Don't feel too bad, Sis," Max said, as she patted her sister’s foot. "We're not all experts at resisting Psy-Ops and making ourselves forget information on our loved ones… or even our own names. I know I'm not." But even while Max said it, she didn't know if she believed her own words. After all she'd just detailed why Psy-Ops was a bitch, hadn't she? So, any brainwashing she’d once had was long gone, and would hopefully stay that way if she held onto such thinking. But since Vada had given in… did she really believe she felt bad about what had happened, and wasn't still under Manticore's influence? Max probably would have risked telling Vada she was full of shit, too, if at that moment she hadn't said the golden words. "And speaking of our family... you know that they have Jondy too, right?" "Jondy? How… why? How did they get the youngest of us now, and who let it happen?" And Max didn't care about anything she’d just thought of Vada… because they would get Jondy out with no consequences, and she would be her old self. She would be. Or else Max would just off herself, because she had no reason left to believe in this world. Author’s Note: I am so sorry for such a late update. I’m just working on a million stories right now. But I haven’t abandoned this story, and never will.

#dark angel #James cameron's dark angel #lomax #max guevara #x5 452 #max #au #alternate universe #Logan cale #logan #eyes only #zack #x5 599 #jondy #x5 210 #vada #original cindy #normal #Kendra maibaum #fanfiction #mine #my work #shanna writes #my writing #saving the siblings #Donald lydecker #max and logan #Logan and max #max logan #Logan max