#Bill would probably try to be playful with it. All like 'oh doctor there's something wrong with me'

[tswwwit]

Does reincarnated Dipper ever go and work in medical? - as a doctor or nurse or pyschologist. I think that would be funny. I'm sure Bill would *looove* that.

He definitely could! Dipper does love helping people.

And it'd be delightfully frustrating for Dipper to try and navigate his chosen profession while hooking up with a guy who's into intestinal origami and mind-breaking. Bill might be knowledgeable, but he offers a lot of highly inadvisable advice.

[dollslayer]

Sweeter Endings

Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Still reeling from the financial realities of losing your mother you turn to a lucrative website for help and get more than you could have bargained for.

W/C: 5,325

Warnings: Smut (no minors 18+ only), light D/S dynamics, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, swearing

A/N: NO MINORS, I wrote this for @donutloverxo 's Sugary 4k Challenge (Congrats!!) I love sugar daddy AUs so I was really excited to write this!! If you like it then please like/reblog/comment I'm all ears! Also maybe check out my other stuff if you want! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

____

The saying ‘desperate times call for desperate measures’ was truer than you’d ever imagined and you found out the hard way. Life had hit you hard last year. You had watched your mother succumb very quickly to cancer. A cold that just wouldn’t go away turned into a doctor’s visit turned into three months left to live. Having no one else in her life, the cost of her funeral and medical bills fell to you. The bills outweighing the inheritance you had no choice but to drop out of school.

One year later you were hanging on by threads to keep yourself off the streets without turning to a loan shark or selling yourself. Stocking shelves at a bougie grocery store in Soho by day and bartending in Tribeca by night had you working six days a week. What free time you had you were too exhausted to do anything with. Something had to give or you were going to collapse from the stress, you just didn’t know what.

A couple weeks ago you had been casually venting about how broke you were with a coworker when she jokingly suggested signing up for one of those Sugar Daddy sites. You laughed along with her but it sounded better than getting a third job. You had quietly asked one of your roommates to borrow their laptop saying you needed to look at job postings only half a lie, really and locked yourself in your room.

You were just gonna check out the website, maybe sign up and poke around, it didn’t mean you were committing to anything, just looking. You remembered first looking at the website once your shitty wifi loaded it, promising ‘beautiful and successful people making mutually beneficial connections’. You balked after reading that but you couldn’t look at any profiles without making one yourself so you had set to work.

After making your profile you hadn’t gotten any hits in about a week so you shrugged it off. You couldn’t keep hogging your roommate’s computer anyways so you set off back to work. Your days at the store wore on into endless nights at the bar and you wondered what other options you really had when you had no degree and no experience in any relevant field.

___

6 o’clock on a Thursday night, the typical after work crowd begins to roll in. The bar you work in is upscale, classy. Definitely trying to lure in the businessmen that worked in the area and their wallets. It annoyed you to deal with the same type of customers you did at the store all over again but with the high end crowd came good tips so you couldn't complain too much.

It was busier than usual when a group of men in suits walked in together asking for a booth. You saw a lot of business meetings take place over whiskey sours in this place so you didn’t think much of it. You tried your best to keep tending to your regulars when a pair from the group came over.

One of the men had deep brown eyes and a sly grin that when split gave you the perfect view of the gap between his teeth. He was confident but he had a kind look to him. His friend had dirty blond hair and a beard that clung to his perfect jawline and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t snuck a second look. You turned your back and continued filling orders to distract yourself when one of them cleared their throat behind you.

As you turned to face them you found it was the blond calling after you. His face held a hint of surprise but it was quickly replaced by a look of amusement as he smirked and one brow lifted, like he knew something you didn’t. He was like any other typical customer for you, professional and handsome, probably over-confident in himself. You returned his smirk and prepared your best charming banter. Time to earn those tips.

“Something to drink for you, gentleman?” You offered.

“We’d like a round of scotch for the table over there. You don’t mind bringing it over, do you sweetheart?” the brown-eyed man asked.

“Of course not” you answered. Pricks.

“Good girl” the blond said with a wink. Creep. A hot creep but still. Before you could ask he took his card out of his wallet and put it on the counter for the tab.

____

A round had come and passed, soon they’d asked for another but this time it was just the blond that approached you. You lifted your eyebrows in anticipation of an order.

“You here often?” he asked. Ugh, not even a good pick up line.

“Am I here at my job often?” You retorted with a playful smile.

The man’s shoulders shook as he chuckled. “Sorry you just uh, you look familiar that’s all. What’s your name?”

You supplied him with it and asked him if he wanted another round of scotch. He nodded.

“Smart girl, I’m Steve by the way.” He laid down his business card which you picked up with a look of challenging curiosity. Steve Rogers, CEO of Shield inc.

Oh. You didn’t recognize the name but you definitely knew the company. It felt like a quarter of their employees stopped in for a drink throughout the week and it was prominent enough of a company that you read about it weekly. Play it cool, these types want to feel like an every-man at the bar but still wanna feel important.

You raised your eyebrows again in recognition. “Nice to meet you, Steve, I’ll have your round right out.”

“Good Girl” he winked again at you. Okay so it’s hot, but he’s a total stranger and you don’t even know him. Stay on your game.

___

10 o’clock came around and things were thinning out slightly, regulars made their way out, awkward Tinder dates and rowdy young 20-somethings made their way in. The party of businessmen was still around but they were hopefully wrapping up after the 2 more rounds they’d had. Steve approached the bar once more and you preemptively picked up the bottle of scotch.

“Whoa, easy, girl! I’m here to pick up the tab” He said, taking out his wallet.

“What’s the name on the tab?” You decided to play dumb but based off the grin on his face he knew you were playing with him.

“Steve. Rogers.” He replied, his tone was stern but his eyes told you he was in on the joke.

You cashed him out and left him to sign his receipt so you could make more drinks. You saw him move in your peripheral and turned your head to see his face.

“Have a good night, sweetheart. I’ll be seein’ ya” he promised.

“Take care!” You smiled back.

A few minutes later you circled back to collect his receipt and found three $100 bills staring back at you. You blinked dumbly in disbelief, who the hell leaves a 200% tip? Looking around to see if Steve was still here he was nowhere to be found. You had no choice but to pocket the money.

____

Another week went by and left you wondering how much energy and concentration it would take for you to just evaporate, since that seemed easier than going to work today. Sadly still in solid form, you punched in at the store and stowed your things in your locker.

Your upscale customer base was a mostly pretentious and successful group of yuppies so even though you were grateful to not be on the streets you were constantly reminded of the professional success you couldn’t help but feel that you were missing out on. Stuck instead to listen to incessant whining ‘is this organic? I won’t eat it unless it’s organic’.

The upside of this job was that the time went by quickly because you always had so much to do. Plus with how monotonous the work was it was easy enough to zone out. So much so that you hadn’t heard someone calling your name and approaching you. A hand softly touching your shoulder snapped you into the present.

You looked up, startled to find a pair of blue eyes staring back into yours. You took a step back and processed who it was. “CEO guy?” Steve?

“‘CEO guy?’ I thought I recognized you, ‘barmaid’ or should I say… ‘stock girl?’” He joked using his fingers to make quotations.

Now that you thought about it, the store isn’t that far at all from the bar, it would make sense if he’s in the area. You smiled and tapped your nametag in response.

“I just came in on my lunch to grab a few groceries” looking down at his basket it held some protein powder, some eggs, and one lonely banana. “Clearly, I’m single. But you’d know that already, wouldn’t you?”

Your brows twinged together in confusion. What is that supposed to mean?

“Excuse me?”

He edged a little closer to you and lowered his voice “SeekingConnection.com?”

Your eyes widened in shock. The fucking Sugar Daddy site! I forgot about that! Surprise was quickly replaced with humiliation. You looked down and away as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you” Steve placated, “But I gotta say, I’m pretty hurt you never responded to me. I sent that message weeks ago and let’s just say I’m not used to rejection.” He kept his tone light, letting you know he wasn’t mad.

“I-I um, I’m sorry, I don’t have a computer and they don’t have an app, I was using my roommates’ computer and I guess I forgot about it…” You admitted.

Steve nodded in acknowledgement. Please say something to salvage this conversation. Please.

“Well,” Steve rummaged in his pocket for another business card. “You got a pen on you?”

You dug around in your apron and came up with one. Handing it to him you watched as he wrote on the back of the card. He held the card and the pen out to you.

“That’s my number, I’d ask for yours but I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, you already look like you wanna sink through the floor” Not helping, but I do. You took them from him and tucked them away in the pocket of your apron.

“You do have a phone right?” You only glared at him in response. “Well, if you check your profile, you would’ve seen I asked you out to lunch, offer still stands. Just text me when you’re free”

Should I even say yes? I mean, the winking the other night was weird but he’s good looking and at least somewhat considerate. I mean, it’s not like I had any other intention when I signed up for that site. What the hell. right?

“I… usually work mid shifts so I don’t know if lunch is doable, they only give me half an hour but, maybe we could do coffee? I’ve got tomorrow off from the bar I could meet you” you suggested.

If Steve felt pity for you he hid it well behind the wide smile he made when you offered coffee instead.

“There’s a place around the corner from here, just up a block, you know it? I’m off tomorrow at 6, why don’t you meet me there?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He winked at you again and started walking away. What the hell just happened?

____

You did end up borrowing your roommate’s computer once again when you got home to look up Steve’s DM. Sure enough, there he had been in all his internet glory. ‘Steve, 33, CEO. likes: art, conversation, whiskey. Digging around further on his profile you found that he owned several houses here and in Europe, he had a dog that was cuter than he was, and that he was ‘Seeking deeper connection’. All of these things piqued your interest.

‘Hey, Doll. Saw your profile and I had to ask, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? Kidding, of course. But maybe you’d care to tell me your story over lunch? Your profile says we’re both in New York. - Steve’ Sent three weeks ago. Fuck.

You had texted him earlier to confirm, which is how you found yourself walking up the sidewalk towards the shop with a mind running rampant with nervous thoughts. What if he just wants to feel big about himself in comparison to me? What would I even really have to offer the relationship? A college dropout working two dead-end jobs with no social life. You needed to snap yourself out of it. You were just meeting for coffee doesn’t mean anything.

Pushing open the door you found Steve waving at you from a quiet corner. He was still in a suit, presumably coming from work himself. Even the buttons on his shirt looked expensive. You were wearing dirty jeans and a worn pair of work boots paired with a flannel. You couldn’t have looked more different if you tried.

“I waited for you to order,” He said. You smiled up at him, only now realizing how tall he was in comparison to you. He ushered you both towards the counter where you both placed your orders. You moved to take your wallet from your purse but he had already beat you there.

“Really? As if I’d let the lady pay, and on the first date no less?” He said playfully.

“Oh, so this is a date now, is it?” You kidded.

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and gave you that boyish grin and a shrug. The pair of you made your way back to the table and waited for your drinks to be brought over.

“How was work?” You asked, “What exactly is it that your company does?”

“We offer security and surveillance software domestically as well as international. Stadiums, airports, other government buildings. Things of that nature. And work was fine, thank you for asking” Steve said with a genuine smile. “How was your day, doll?”

“Oh, my day was fine, more of the same but y’know,” You answered half-heartedly.

“You know, you never answered me, what’s a funny, pretty gal like you doing on a site like that?”

Embarrassment hit you again, this time maybe accompanied with a hint of shame. You were saved momentarily by your drinks being delivered. He seemed truly interested and since he was paying you supposed you owed him an answer.

“I was going to Columbia and I had a pretty good internship when my mom got diagnosed with cancer. She died three months later and since it was only always just the two of us I ended up footing the bill. I was on partial scholarship but between the hospital and the funeral I can’t really afford the rest of tuition on top of working for free so here I am” you explained, “Oh my god, I’m sorry I’m totally oversharing aren’t I? You probably don’t wanna hear about a bummer like this, sorry”

You tried to laugh to ease the tension you thought you’d created. Braving a look at Steve, he looked thoughtful and only a little bit like he pitied you. You could live with that.

“I’m really sorry about your mom, mine also got really sick before she died, I know it must’ve been hard. What were you in school for?”

___

You and Steve talked for hours, trading anecdotes of childhood and talking about each other’s interests. You had a similar sense in humour so you got on swimmingly. The evening seemed to be coming to a close as the night sky sent in through the window.

Being with Steve was probably the most relaxed you’d felt since before your mom was diagnosed. It became difficult to focus on anything but your financial situation and even though that’s what brought you here in the first place you had managed to forget all about it.

“So look, us getting together wasn’t exactly the most conventional on meet-cutes but to put it bluntly,” He said, “The CEO life makes it hard to meet real people and it gets kinda lonely, I mean, you saw my grocery basket” You both laughed at that. “You need money and I need company, I feel like we could help each other out. Whad’ya say? Think you could put up with me?”

You knew what this was but hearing it put so plainly was a little surprising. At least he was to the point.

“So if I said yes what does that mean, exactly?” you inquired.

“Well,” he started, “We take care of each other. Let me cover some of your bills at the very least, make it so you’d be comfortable quitting at least one of your jobs. And you’d keep me company, we go on dates, maybe you could come over, there’s the occasional work event or charity gala I’d need you on my arm for. Thoughts?”

God I can’t even imagine what it’s like to work only one job anymore. Maybe I could even save up and go back to school. He’s cute and he seems sensible, why not?

“Could we maybe take things slow? What you describe is something I’m down for but I don’t want to make myself completely dependent on you. But I’d love to be there for you, and I have to admit, the thought of only working one full time job is pretty crazy to me” You laughed.

Steve swallowed and placed one of his large, warm hands over yours.

“I can do things the old fashioned way, if that’s what you’d feel good with. I gotta say though, with looks like that it’s not gonna be easy” he jested.

You smiled shyly and looked away. You both stood to leave and he held the door open for you.

“I’ve already got your number from when you texted me earlier but I’ll talk to my assistant about my schedule and maybe I could take you out to dinner this weekend?”

“I um, I’d really like that. It’s a date” You stated.

“Oh, so you think this is a date now?” He jested.

You lightly punched him in the arm and he took the opportunity to pull you closer to him. You looked up to find his face inches from yours. You could smell his aftershave and his deep voice gave you goosebumps when he spoke next.

“I kinda want to kiss you goodnight, would that be okay?”

You could only nod as he shut his eyes and closed in. Your lips met in one perfect, chaste kiss. You sighed and leaned into his hand as it briefly cupped your face.

You broke apart and made promises to see each other soon. You felt like you could’ve floated home as you boarded the subway, caught up in the swarm of newly forming feelings.

_____

You sat in the break room when your phone buzzed to life, ‘Saturday at 7?’

You were about to type out a yes when you forgot you worked closing at the bar. Your thumbs moved quickly to tap out the reply ‘Working, sorry :/ the pitfalls of bartending. Sunday at 7?’

You were nervous telling him no and asking to change plans. You hated not being able to make things work but you only just met the man and the weekend tips were killer, it’s not like you could turn the shift down.

‘Ah yes, almost forgot. Sunday works too, I’ll text you the details. What’s your address? I’ll pick you up’

Oh, God. Steve can’t see my building! His cufflinks probably cost more than my rent!

‘I’ll just meet you there, don’t worry about it’

‘Not a chance, doll. Just tell me where and I’ll come get you’

You let out a worried sigh but knew you had to let it go. You sent him your address and went back to work.

____

Saturday was maybe the longest day in your entire week, in fact you loathed it. Mornings at the store followed by running immediately to the bar. Last call in New York was 4am so it’s a good thing you didn’t try to make brunch plans with Steve for Sunday. But ultimately both your shifts passed without major incident and now it was Sunday and you tried to ready yourself the best you could.

The place Steve mentioned was fancy, you knew that much from a quick search. Panicking instantly upon realizing you don’t really have any nice clothes you turned to your most fashionable roommate for help. She loaned you a cocktail dress that was revealing enough to draw interest without giving everything away. You just hoped Steve would like it.

‘Downstairs, doll. Silver BMW’ you exhaled. Hoo boy, here we go.

____

Steve handed his keys to the valet and rushed around to open your door for you. You held his hand and you clambered onto the sidewalk in your heels. His warm hand on the small of your back as he steered you towards the doors was a comforting weight.

Dinner has been lovely so far, he chose a place that wasn’t completely white-glove but was upscale enough to make you feel only a little underdressed.

You joked back and forth with him over the course of the meal, talked about your lives, and even found out you both have a guilty pleasure for cheesy rom-coms. It wasn’t until dessert and your third glass of wine came that you realized how much time had passed. You frowned slightly thinking of the early morning ahead of you followed by a long night at the bar.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

“Oh, nothing I just didn’t realize how late it was, I’ve got both jobs tomorrow it’ll just be a long day that’s all” you tried to wave it off but Steve frowned in response.

“Quit the bar” he stated.

“What?”

“Quit the bar. This is your card, I’ve already loaded $3000 on there. Put me in touch with your landlord and I’ll get you taken care of.” He slid the card across the table to you. Your name printed on the front. This got real very quickly.

“Steve, that’s.” You were in shock, a loss for words almost “that’s too much, I don’t know what to say.” You felt embarrassed taking the money. You knew that was the essence of your arrangement but actually taking his money had you feeling uneasy.

“Honey, this is what I’m here for. Let me take care of you. Give up your late nights. I wanna take you out on the weekends and you’ll need to be available for events. You can stay at the store if you want but quit the bar, you don’t need it.”

You took a deep sigh. He did say he wanted you to be comfortable quitting one of your jobs; it's just making the change that scares you. But something about Steve felt safe so you nodded and looked up to him.

“I’ll put in my two weeks”

“Good girl” he patted your knee and you involuntarily clenched your thighs. He smirked at that but let it go.

____

A few months had come and gone since that night and your time with Steve had been great. Only working the one job gave you so much more free time. You'd spent a good chunk of it just trying to form a normal sleep schedule but all the time you spent with Steve made it difficult. Not that you minded especially since your allowance was monthly but he’d showered you with gifts here and there.

They started off small, perfume, chocolates and flowers, or a simple pair of white gold hoops that reminded him of you. They gradually became pricier and more elaborate. You’d felt guilty accepting it all at first but he was insistent you deserve the best. He had even mentioned you moving out maybe finding a better place but you reminded him you needed to go slow.

He’d also been nothing short of a gentleman. Out in public at least, you’d learned the hard way that he was an absolute animal in bed. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep your hands off of him.

Something you had appreciated about Steve is that he never made you feel bad or less than for being broke. Never held his money over your head like leverage. You’d felt equal to him in all aspects, understanding you had just as much say as he did.

Still, there was a small nagging voice in the back of your head that reminded you Steve is not your boyfriend. This isn't a relationship and he's looking to get something out of just like you are. But if you were being honest you were catching feelings, it was hard not to when the man was giving you the fantasy. You decided to push that voice aside whenever it came up and let yourself be swept away. Maybe that would bite you in the ass but for now you were happy.

____

You were buzzed into Steve’s building and on the elevator ride up to his penthouse your phone buzzed. ‘I have to make a quick call- I’ve got a present waiting for you in the living room.’ You couldn’t help but feel giddy.

The doors opened and Steve was nowhere in sight but as you entered the living room a bag from Chanel and the Apple Store sat on the table. Oh god, what this time? I swear this man is too much.

You opened the smaller bag from Chanel first and found a beautiful black and white evening bag. It was sleek and simple, very much to your tastes. You were nervous to open the Apple bag, Steve always went overboard. Shakily removing the paper you pulled out the slim case in disbelief. A MacBook Air and a pair of AirPod Pros. The man well and truly spoiled you.

“You said you didn’t have a computer.” His voice came from behind you and startled you.

“Steve, this is too much. You’re too much.” You swung your arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Nothin’s too much for you, doll.” He kissed the top of your head.

“Think you could take a couple days off of work? I just got off the phone and confirmed plans for my house in Nice.”

A trip? France?? Oh my god. How is this my life? You felt so overwhelmed that you grabbed Steve by the collar and brought his face down to meet you in a kiss. His tongue swiped your lips and you granted him entrance. Moaning into his mouth your hands traveled up into his hair, pulling softly and coaxing a groan out of him.

He guided you to sit on the couch and brought you down into his lap. You ground down onto him and felt his hard-on through his slacks. Your hand moved slowly to undo the buttons of his shirt as he kissed down your jaw towards your neck. You sighed softly when he found your sweet spot and started sucking.

He helped you take off his shirt while you got started on his belt and undid his pants. He lifted himself off the couch slightly to move them down to his knees, taking his briefs with them. His cock stood proud and an angry red, leaking at the tip.

“I wanna ride you, I can’t wait.” You pouted as you writhed against him in need.

Steve tutted at you “that’s no way to get what you want. Ask me nicely, baby. Beg to ride my cock,”

You ground down even harder and whined. “Please, sir, please let me ride your cock. I need to feel you, I can’t wait any longer please.”

“Good Girl” Steve's hands flipped up your skirt and found your panties, ripping them to shreds. They were La Perla and had cost a pretty penny but he didn’t care.

He lined himself up and brought you down harshly gripping your hips. You moaned loudly in surprise and satisfaction and wasted no time moving back and forth. Steve made you feel so close and connected to him whenever he fucked you but he still made you feel sordid and dirty. You couldn’t get enough of the feeling, you’d gladly chase it.

His eyes were hooded as watched you chase your own pleasure and giving him some in return. His hands kneaded your ass and smacked it just to get a gasp out of you. He grabbed the back of your head and brought you in for a searing kiss that was all teeth and tongue. He’d nip at you and lick the pain away.

His hips met yours, finding your rhythm and speeding you both up when he gripped your hips.

“Can’t wait to have me, you had to fuck me on the couch huh?” Steve panted, “my dirty girl. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You put your forehead against his and went harder, pushing your clit to grind against the muscles of his abs.

“Only yours, sir.” Your orgasm was building. Steve was a pretty relaxed dom but you still needed permission.

“Sir, please let me cum I can’t wait any longer” you tried your best to slow your movements a bit.

“I think you can hold it baby, I wanna enjoy you a little longer”.

You could only whine in response and tried to slow your pace but his grip on your hips and his own movements pushed you further and further towards the edge. You tried to squirm out of his grasp but his hands only tightened. It felt like forever until Steve finally gave you permission.

“Go on baby, cum for me you earned it. Fuck your self on my cock and cum all over me”

Your movements were frantic, desperate to chase your orgasm when finally the perfect angle of his cock inside you and your clit against him set you free. You cried out above him and dug your nails in deep.

Steve held you firmly in place and started slamming into you from below, finally letting himself think about cumming. All you could do was hold on for mercy. Moments later he brought you down onto him one final slam as he came inside of you with a cry.

The only sound in the room was both of you trying to catch your breath. You sighed again and collapsed against him, nuzzling your face into his neck. He kissed the side of your face and let you make yourself at home while he caressed your back.

____

One shower and two more orgasms later you were both clean and made your way to the kitchen. Steve was gathering the ingredients for dinner when you hugged him from behind. Your head resting against his back. Steve twisted around and hugged you in full. You both stayed like that for a moment until you looked up at him.

You were so content. Moments like this where you were just domestic were some of the best between you. It wasn’t about money or material, it was just the two of you making dinner and enjoying each other, no barriers.

“Are you really going to take me to France?” Your voice came out muffled against his chest.

“Of course, doll. After dinner I want you to use your new laptop to buy some outfits for the trip. I left my card in your new purse.”

You lifted onto your tiptoes and kissed his nose.

“You really do think of everything, don’t you?”

“What can I say? I’m a planner” he retorted.

You didn’t know it yet but Steve was going to ask you to become official while you were there. He wasn’t worried in the slightest. In fact he’d never been so sure about something in his life.

[arumin-arureruto]

Honeytea PT 2

Kyoya x fem reader and Hikaru x fem reader, Kyoya angst, Hikaru slowburn.

Warnings: none

word count: 1.7k

songs to listen to while reading:

What Am I by Why Dont We

Greek God by Conan Gray

hikaru’s outfit:

Reader’s outfit (your outfit can be whatever you want this is just what I had in mind while writing <3):

Cafe Hikaru and reader are at:

you woke up with the sun shining on your eyes, reaching out to feel the spot where your husband had been sleeping cold and empty, he had already left for work. Last night was emotionally exhausting, you had a fight with Kyoya and called Hikaru while your emotions were running high, even though you woke up feeling calmer it would still be nice to see him. You decided to get up and check your phone to see if you were still on for today, there were 6 unread messages from Hikaru.

“checking if ur okay”

“meet me tomorrow at 12pm for lunch at that cafe near my house, the one Honey got banned from”

“btw how the fuck do you manage to get banned from a restaurant for eating too much cake”

*picture of a single spoon inside a sink* “lol me”

“I should probably go to bed now goodnight”

He hasn’t changed a bit since high school, that’s what was so comforting to you about Hikaru. He took you back to a time where everything was much more simpler, lazy afternoons on the grass with the host club, drinking tea by the window in music room 3 with Kyoya, study sessions with Mori and Honey, getting into all sorts of mischief with Hikaru and Kauro, quietly reading with Haruhi, piano lessons from Tamaki…

All those memories started playing back in your mind and you started to feel all warm inside, you really didn’t know how good you had it. It’s not that you weren’t happy, you were married to the man you loved, you were one of the most respected and powerful women in society, what else could you ask for? But sometimes it felt like you were missing out on something, like your world could be so much more. When you mentioned this to Kyoya a couple months ago he suggested you try for children but you quickly shot down the idea, you were 23 and he was 24, having kids right now would be too big of a responsibility.

Shaking those thoughts from your head you checked the time on your phone, 10am. You still had 2hours before you had to meet Hikaru so going back to sleep was a tempting offer, but considering the cafe was almost 30 minutes away and you got easily distracted while getting ready it would be wiser to start picking out some clothes and getting in the shower. There was about 45 minutes before a maid was supposed to come in and clean your room so you figured that should be enough time to take a quick shower, you could just ask them to wait till you were done but you always felt awkward doing so.

After zoning out for a minute you headed for the shower, got undressed, put your hair up and turned on the hot water, you already washed your hair yesterday so there was no point in washing it again. You had always loved showers, the feeling of the warm water on your skin, the sound of the water dripping on the floor and the smell of all your products were enough to wash all your problems away. After about 25 minutes in the shower you turned the water off and stepped out, already missing the warmth of the water. After quickly drying yourself off with a towel you started massaging some lotion into your skin, first your arms and then your legs, this was your favorite part of your routine. When you felt that you had enough lotion on already you put on a robe, walked out of the bathroom and towards your walk in closet. It was september so the weather was still warm, today would be a simple dress day, or as simple as you could. Downside of being married to Kyoya Ootori: having to keep up appearances ALWAYS. After picking out a dress it was time for shoes, you gravitated towards a gorgeous pair of open toed gold heels that would’ve gone really well with your dress, but your legs were still slightly sore from last night so sandals it is.

After scrutinizing every part of your outfit and make up, which in the end you decided to go with a simple eyeliner, mascara and gloss, it was already 11:15. You grabbed your purse and asked someone to bring the car around. You hurriedly walked down the large staircase, excitement clear in your step, you got inside the car and gave a quick hello to the driver.

“Good morning Mrs Ootori, where to?”

“Morning Ryuzaki, Honeytea Cafe.”

“Understood ma’am.”

After giving your instructions you  pressed the button to lift the divider between the driver and the backseat, needing to be alone. You hadn’t seen Hikaru in person since your wedding reception, you talked on the phone occasionally but always for less than 2 minutes, this was the first time in months you would be in the same room again. Was it gonna be awkward? I mean you did call him yesterday late at night crying so what if he thought you were weird? No, no, this was Hikaru, your best friend since your first year of high school, everything was gonna be fine.

The 30 minute ride felt like it went by in less than 15, After getting to the cafe you told Ryuzaki to go back home and that you would call when you were done, since you didn’t know how long you would take. 11: 52pm, 8 minutes till you were supposed to meet Hikaru, meaning you had 8 minutes to get your act together.

You stepped into the cafe and scanned the place, 6 years and nothing had changed. Still the same old tall bookshelves lined the walls. The same paintings on the walls, and just like you remembered, peace and quiet. Since the cafe was a bit old fashioned it tended to attract an older crowd, old people just trying to enjoy their coffee and adults in their 30s that wanted a quiet place to work. While you continued to examine the room, lost in your own world, you felt a pair of slender hands on your shoulders and heard a familiar voice coming from behind you.

“Taking a trip down memory lane while blocking the way huh? Honestly y/n I thought commoners taught their children better manners.”

At first you were startled but then you quickly turned around to face the voice and there he was. Tall, mischievous smile and wild hair, Hikaru Hitachiin in the flesh. “Hikaru I-” you hugged him before you could even finish your sentence. You stood there with your arms wrapped around his neck in silence for a couple more seconds.

“y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re still blocking the way.”

Oh right.

Behind you 2 old ladies stood with unpleasant expressions on their faces, you both moved out of the way to let the ladies through, they walked past you and muttered something about today’s youth having no respect for their elders. You stood there slightly embarrassed, heat rising to your cheeks while Hikaru looked like he might burst out laughing.

You decide to grab a table at the very back of the cafe, away from everyone else. After you sit down Hikaru strikes a conversation. “Haven’t seen you in a year y/n, how’s married life been treating you?” He propped up his elbow and leaned his head on his hand, keeping his eyes focused on you.

Damn so we’re already on that topic.

“We’ve had our ups and downs, what about you? How are you and Kaoru doing?” Hopefully he won't bring up your phone call from yesterday. “We’re doing pretty good, Kaoru actually started seeing someone a couple months ago. Cute boy he met at an art gallery.” You could hear the tiniest hint of jealousy in the last part, but overall Hikaru sounded happy for his brother. “Oh he did? That’s cool” you stay silent for a couple seconds before proceeding with what you were saying. “And how do you feel about Kaoru seeing someone?” Hikaru’s eyes shifted from you to the table and kept them focused there. “In the beginning it was weird, I hated the idea of having to share him with someone else but now, I see how happy he is with Evan and that’s all that matters to me.” He looked up from the table to look at you and smile, then he spoke again but this time in a more playful tone. “So are we eating or what? Man were you seriously gonna let me starve? Typical Ootori.” That comment made you laugh, you really did miss him.

You both ordered and paid separately, since you knew you would argue over who would pay the bill. After you both received your food you sat down to eat, while you ate you reminisced about the past and talked about all the trouble you used to get into back in the day.

“No no, you were the one that tricked Tamaki into dressing up as Haruhi to fool the doctors during the physical exam that one time.” He laughed and pointed at you with a piece of bread. “Whaaaaat? Me? I would never, I was just an innocent bystander” you defended yourself while also laughing, then you remembered something. “No but for real that one wasn’t my idea, actually Kyoya came up with it.” Hikaru stopped laughing but still had a smile on his face, he then asked you a question.

“So Kyoya…” There was a pause before he spoke again.

“You mentioned you have your ups and downs, I’m guessing yesterday was a down?”

The food that was in your throat had trouble going down, you tried to quickly swallow and answer Hikaru’s question. “Yesterday was definitely not one of our best days” You let out a nervous laugh. Before you could elaborate a middle aged man came up to your table and asked if he could borrow one of your chairs for his daughter, seeing that you were both already finished with your food you told him he could have the chairs and got up to leave.

As you were walking out of the coffee shop Hikaru tapped your shoulder.

“Hey my house is just a 5 minute drive from here, we could go there if you wanna talk more in private.”

[docstark]

Ignite (Avengers/Bucky Barnes Fanfiction) Chapter 2 - He Would Have Liked You

<<Previous Chapter

So this chapter is jumping staying in Doctor Stark's story and will slowly move into the more of a Bucky fanfiction. It's kind of my running story.

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of 18+ activities lol

----------

I managed to get control of my power and I made gauntlets so that I wasn’t getting massive internal arm injuries from the vibrations (Agent Coulson said that I probably used the last bit of vibranium that SHIELD had but as Fury didn’t want me to have broken arms…)

Long story short, my brother is Iron Man, I have powers, Captain America was found, and now after some thawing, a freak out in New York where he was taken to wake up in, Steve Rogers himself is now my patient….kind of. (I’m not a practicing doctor)

“I feel like we’ve met,” he said after a long silence.

“In a way we have,” I said as I looked over his blood work, “You knew my father.” His forehead wrinkled as he was looking at me like he was trying to place me with all the people that he once knew. “Of course, if you were to see my brother you would really see the young Howard Stark in him.”

“Stark? You’re Stark’s daughter?”

“Yep.”

“Is...Is he gone? Like everyone else?” He questioned looking at his feet.

“Both he and my mother died in ‘91,” I replied quietly, “Car crash, I was 15.”

“I’m-“

“It’s okay...it was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier,” he said. I remembered hearing from Aunt Peggy how Steve had lost both of his parents as well and it wasn’t something that you want to have in common with someone, but at least he could understand what I went through. “Anyway, are you doing more tests today doc?”

“No, you’ve got as clean of a bill as a super soldier that has been frozen in the ice for nearly 70 years,” I replied, “Got some interesting data on myself as well…”

“On yourself?”

“Oh...it’s nothing,” I said, not meaning to have said that last part out loud. As a scientist it made me curious to see what my own altered gene sequence looked like to that of Captain America’s since both our serums came from the same doctor and the same time period. I honestly wasn’t expecting any huge similarities, but I was surprised that what had been altered in me had also been altered in him, but because of the way that the serum was meant to activate within my body it didn’t turn me into a super soldier, but a weapon.

“And Bucky used to call me a bad liar,” Steve said, crossing his arms and sitting back in his chair, “What’s going on doc?”

I sighed. He was going to find out sooner or later because of The Avengers Initiative that Fury was putting together, so I just told him everything.

“All for that fact that your brother was kidnapped?” he questioned, “You are a tough one and got heart doc…”

“Yeah, well my brother damn near killed me when he found out what I did,” I replied, “But I’m good with my choices. But this isn’t about me…I brought these from the old SSR storage…” I went to go grab the couple of boxes that I brought with me that morning but he beat me to them.

“Let me get those for you,” he said as he carried them over to the table.

“Thank you,” I said, “These boxes have some of your belongings that were stored away after you went missing.”

He opened the box and looked in, there were some old photos, a signed baseball, his father’s dog tags, his mother’s wedding ring. Small things that were squirrelled away from his Brooklyn apartment for if he were to be found again. “These were in storage this whole time?”

“Yeah, I’m going to guess that either my father or Agent Carter had this done,” I said as I reached into the box and pulled out a picture that caught my eye.

“It wouldn’t surprise me at all if Peggy had it done,” he said, looking at the compass that was sitting on the table by where he had been sitting.

“There are other things that belonged to you that aren't as personal that you can find in the Smithsonian,” I said, captivated by the man in the photo.

“He would have liked you,” Steve said looking over my shoulder.

“What?”

“Bucky…he would have liked you,” he said pointing to the picture.

“This is a much better picture than the memorial one that they have in the museum,” I said as Steve and I sat down, “He has playful eyes…”

He snorted. “Oh you have no idea...he knew just how to make everyone feel happy even on the worst days, but when he was around others...oh and women could not get enough of him. Though thinking about it now he was actually quite picky.”

“Man, romance did die in the 40s,” I said lulling my head back as I put the picture back in the box.

He chuckled. “Guys today not what you wish they were?”

“I get more satisfaction from my hand then men nowadays…” There was a silence in the room and I looked at Steve whose ears were now a bright shade of red. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine…”

A FEW DAYS LATER

“You didn’t,” Natasha said as she blocked my punch.

“As you well know, don’t ask me questions you don’t want an honest answer to,” I replied as we continued to spar. As we did so I managed to grab her arm, twist it and use her own leg to give me a little extra leverage to jump and get my legs around her neck and flip her over.

“Good god, woman…” she said, landing with an oomph.

“I’ve been getting some tips from Agent May,” I said with a cheeky grin, “You are the one that told me not to always rely on my powers.”

She sat up and looked up at me. “Want to play it that way huh?”

“Oh shit…”

After getting my ass thoroughly handed to me (though Nat did say that I did quite well), we hit the showers and after returned to our previous conversation...thanks to her.

“So what did he say after you said what you did?” she questioned as we stood at one of the Triskelion’s coffee stands.

“Who say about what?” I asked at first not catching on to what she was talking about.

“Steve….what did he say?”

“Oh, nothing...his ears turned bright red and I apologised, I forgot that in the 1940s they weren’t exactly open about that kind of stuff.”

She let out a snort. “Oh if only the 1940s could see us now!” she said sliding down the zipper of her jacket with a wink.

“You’re horrible,” I said nudging her with my elbow.

“Anyway, what about that guy that you just broke up with?”

“Kevin?” I asked, wrinkling my nose, “For starters, he broke up with me.”

“Excuse me?”

I just shrugged. “He wasn’t worth the time anyway. He only cared about what I could do for his dick, and not what his dick could do for me. No satisfaction what-so-ever...always ended up sneaking off to the bathroom to get off.”

“I hate that...he’s losing out though,” she said as we grabbed our coffee and headed down the hall.

“I don’t need a guy who leaves me feeling unsatisfied or that tells me that I work too much, or that-”

“He does know that you have 3 Phds and are the co-owner of a billion dollar company...right?”

“Must’ve slipped his mind…” I said shrugging.

“Ladies,” we looked and saw Fury as he walked over to us, arms tucked behind his back.

“Doctor, I saw your final report...is Rogers ready when if we need him,” he questioned.

“I think he is, whether or not he thinks he is will come down to what he does when a challenge is put in front of him,” I replied.

“Very well, are you leaving tonight or tomorrow?” he questioned.

“Tonight sir, I believe that Nat is leaving tonight as well, I finished my work with Captain Rogers, got my training in, and now I need to get back to Stark Tower so that Tony and Pepper don’t completely steal my thunder with the sustainable energy for the tower.”

“Very well...a Quinjet will be available for you to take whenever you are ready,” he said with a nod of his head, “Agent Romanoff...good luck on your mission.”

“Thank you sir,” she said.

He left us standing there and I just looked at her. “Did I just get debriefed?”

“In a subtle way, yes.”

“Agent Doctor Stark or Doctor Agent Stark?”

“None of the above….”

“Party-pooper.”

That evening I did find myself back at Stark Tower, at the very top in Tony’s “Home Away From Home”.

“You know Y/N, technically...you could live here,” Tony said as me, him, and Pepper sat on the couch putting making sure we had all our plans put together for when Tony when to connect the Arc Reactor to Stark Tower.

“So generous, but I like my garden,” I replied, “And I like feeling like a normal human being first thing in the morning.”

“Your house is so small,” he said.

“I’m sorry my 3,000 square ft house bothers you so,” I said, “But it’s my ‘small’ house and has all the upgrades that I need. If I ever need a bigger house I’ll just buy the house next door and evict the neighbors and build over onto that plot of land.” I thought Pepper’s head was gonna snap off her neck with as fast as she turned it when I said this. “I’m kidding Pep...cool your jets.”

“The two of you have deep enough pockets, forgive me if I get concerned sometimes,” she said with a chuckled.

“Nah, I like my neighbors...guy across the street is kind of creepy but-“

“Big brother need to step in and take care of him for you?” Tony teased earning an eyeroll.

“When I moved in there, Nancy, the neighbor to the right of me said he’s been the head of the neighborhood watch for 20 years or something like that,” I replied knowing that though he was teasing me, part of him was also serious, “He apparently didn’t like all the people that came in and out of the neighborhood when I was having the house upgraded with Stark Tech, the lab put in the basement, and then the security around the perimeter...I disrupted the peace.”

“Look at you, turning suburbia on its head,” he said.

“Alright you two, enough...let’s get this finished,” Pepper laughed.

Two nights later project clean Sustainability was a go.

“How’s it look big bro?” I asked as Tony flew back to the Tower as it lit up the New York skyline.

“Like Christmas, only more...us,” he replied.

As he landed I turned to Pepper. “I will leave you two to celebrate, I have other work that needs to be felt with.”

“What? N/N, stay and have some champagne,” Pepper said.

“No, you two celebrate. Date night for you two...enjoy.” I headed to the elevator and to my office where I was greeted by my Artificially Intelligent Digital Assistant or AIDA for short.

“Good evening, Doctor Stark. I would like to congratulate you on making Stark tower the first fully clean and sustainable building in the United States,” she said as I sat at my desk, “Also I am being informed by JARVIS that Agent Coulson is trying to get a hold of both you and Mr. Stark, should I put him through?”

I sighed. “If I don’t, he’ll probably just hack his way-“

*DING*

“Agent Coulson…”

"Doctor Stark, I'm sorry to interupt your evening but there is something urgent that we need dealt with," he said holding out a file to me. Opening the file I saw a picture of a familiar blue cube paperclipped to the top. "What do you know about the Tesseract?"

"Only what was in my father's files," I replied. By now there were five people that knew about the files that were given to my by Aunt Peggy. I knew I couldn't keep them a secret forever so I kept it down to:

Fury Coulson Nat Tony Pepper

Thanks to Pepper and her due dillagence, most of the files were now store electronically on an encrypted harddrive. Though there were somethings that were secret to only me.

"Good, in five minutes send what you have up to Mr. Stark," he replied, "The Tessaract was stolen by an Asgardian by the name of Loki. We will need your help on this....time for you to suit up."

As Coulson headed back to the elevator I went over to my computer and pulled up my files. 'Why my father ever fished that thing out of the ocean instead of throwing it back I will never understand....'

TO BE CONTINUED....

Chapter 3>>

[themasterisathirsttrap]

Putting Out Fire (With Gasoline) Ch. 1

Missy x reader x eventual Silver!Simm x reader Set during series 10

Mostly 10x11 and 10x12

((No warnings for this chapter))

Part 1/ Chapter 1 of ???

((Title from the David Bowie Song- Cat People (Putting Out Fire) ))

From the first wry and sweetly uttered words proclaiming false innocence when you first tumbled upon her hidden prison, Missy, without a doubt become one of the most interesting people you had ever met.

With the exception of the Doctor, that was. But even then, you couldn’t quite explain the silent, powerful magnetism that drew you to her in a way that had you returning to visit her regularly enough that it had become something of a routine.

Even more surprisingly, she seemed to tolerate your presence in a manner that had you both wary and secretly giddy.

Nice certainly wasn’t the right word for how she treated you, but she certainly played nice by comparison when you saw the ways she spoke with others and contrasted it to the cautiously curious conversations the two of you had.

Missy was an enigma.

A funny, terrifying, and beautiful enigma wrapped into the form of Mary Poppin’s evil alternate ego.

But damn was she fun.

And she might have noticed the ways your lips quirked upward into a smile at her jokes and passive jabs at the Doctor, or the way your gazes met when your eyes glimmered with curiosity at the rare story she’d share of her past.

“My whole life doesn’t revolve around you, Doctor.”

You remember her chiming in annoyance at the Doctor.

And the more you listened, the more convinced you were that what she said was true.

Not that you’d trust her not to lie.

No, you figured that even if the stories were all lies, she was at the very least the kind of storyteller that had you mindlessly grinning at her theatrical retellings, resting your head on your hands as you leaned forward in your seat.

You couldn’t be sure that she liked you, given her open and frequently voiced distaste for humanity.

But at the very least, she didn’t seem want to kill you.

Regardless, she seemed to enjoy having an audience, and company not constantly berating her.

It came as a surprise when she even humored you about stories related to her past, you listened with genuine curiosity, watching as she’d place her hands on her hips and pace about her glass stage as if delivering a dramatic monologue to her audience of one.

The first time she opted to share, you approached it in a more back-and-forth, conversational manner, but the icy glare she shot you had your question dying in your throat. Moments like that reminded you of exactly who she was and what she was capable of.

You were quick to not repeat the mistake in front of the same woman who spoke of human deaths like swatting flies. She seemed pleased about that, and often shifted to this monologue-esque style of interaction when telling a story. Not that you minded, she had you engaged at  every lilt of her Scottish intonations and occasional break for dramatic pause.

Somewhere along the line, her voice became oddly soothing to you. Despite the frequent awful things she said and flippantly colorful descriptions of even seemingly ordinary things.

You your embarrassment, you even caught yourself watching with a tilted head and soft dopey smile on your face. Her amused short laugh and the feeling of her gaze suddenly on you had your face flushing red with embarrassment under her scrutinization.

“Enjoying yourself, are you? Or did your little human brain scurry off to a daydream in the middle of my story?” Missy teased, her hands on her hips with a click of her tongue.

You were quick to shake your head, the thought of even being anywhere but present in her company sounding ridiculous in your head. You weren’t sure if you had felt that way around anyone before, to your silent dismay, but pushing those thoughts to the back of your head.

“Just listening,” you shot back dismissively, “You’re a good storyteller.”

You admitted honestly, shrugging to downplay the sentiment, but your eyes flashing to hers with a somewhat guilty smile.

Her eyes scanned over you for a moment in that way that made you feel both terrifyingly exposed and oddly thrilled.

“Hm. Well, don’t get too dreamy-eyed on me, pet.” She said, her body language easing as she seemed to accept your explanation. You kept your expression unchanged at her added endearment.

“Makes me feel like you’re not listening,” she added with an exaggeratedly sad expression, miming an invisible tear trailing down her cheek. Then she half-swung around, her skirts fanning with a flourish before taking a seat at the piano bench.

“Usually when people are properly listening to me, there’s a bit more fear than dopey grins,” her tone was sickly sweet as she paused to idly examine her nails, “Perhaps I’ve been too soft. I’ll have to let you in on some more grizzly details of my….intergalactic exploits.” She added in a thoughtful voice and a dramatic sigh.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the act, but shook your head instead, looking to her with a challenging look, but otherwise not moving from your position.

“Or maybe it’s just not you. I don’t mind a little scary.”

Her act dropped and she looked to you suddenly with a sharp but quietly curious look. You took the bait and continued.

“I mean—it probably takes takes a questionably sane human to come down here nearly daily and spend time with someone who could easily kill them if the mood struck, wouldn’t it?

“Well, you’re certainly either daft or insane. Haven’t quite decided which.”

“All I’m saying—is that maybe it’s not that you aren’t terrifying, but more that you stumbled upon someone just dumb or crazy enough to enjoy your sociopathic ramblings.”

You felt bold saying it, briefly fearing that you overstepped and let your tongue-and-cheek side out a little strong.

But, to your surprise, she suddenly threw her head back into a fit of laughter. The sound was infectious and you couldn’t help but let your own lips quirk back upward. She took her time regaining her composure, wiping away what might have been an actual stray tear of laugher.

“Oh. Well, At least you seem to possess some semblance of self-awareness lacking in most of your species.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a complement,” you replied with an edge of wry amusement showing through.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, pet. Just an observation.”

There it was again. You said nothing, but looked down and avoided her gaze as you felt her analyzing you.

You glanced at your phone and swore quietly at the time. You had spent far too long there.

Again.

You climbed to your feet, stretching the muscles the you hadn’t realized you had been tensing, and gathering your belongings.

“It’s late—I should get going,” you said, trying to dispel whatever effect she was having on you in your sudden urge to stay.

She turned away from you and hummed with a guarded indifference that you had come to recognize, but you hadn’t quite learned how to decipher.

The silence fell between the two of you until the sound of a shrill note on the piano jarred you enough to look up from your gathering of papers and notebooks. She didn’t look your way, but you caught the silhouette of her smile at your surprised jump. She comfortably fell into a melody that sounded vaguely familiar, but you didn’t know enough about classical music to bother a guess.

You thought she might continue to play without as much as a goodbye, as she often did in her attempt to make it clear that she didn’t enjoy your little visits as much as you did.

But maybe you were flattering yourself.

You needed to be a realist. Especially with her.

And especially with how uneasy your own muddled non-existent feelings where towards her.

You yawned, shaking the thoughts away as you realized just how tired and fatigued your muscles were from the long day of classes, staying up too late with Bill and the Doctor, and slipping away to sneak in some time with her behind their backs.

To your surprise ,as you turned to leave, she chimed out.

“Now, don’t be be roped into some silly adventure do-gooder adventure with the Doctor tomorrow.”

You looked back at her in surprise.

“You’re particularly boring when you’re tired. I can’t have you too tired to listen attentively next time,” the shift in her voice took you off guard. Back to her guarded, colder tone, but with a playful edge.

“I don’t like other people playing with my toys.”

She shot you a wink and you quickly turned away to leave while giving a short nod. Your face flushed at the gesture.

No.

You weren’t developing feelings for her.

You couldn’t.

That would be ridiculous, and incredibly stupid.

But the memory of the uneasy fluttering in your stomach when she smiled at you tugged at your subconscious, and had to admit you had never really enjoyed hearing the sound of your own name as much as you did falling from her lips.

Oh Shit.

You had feelings for her.

---

If she hadn’t yet noticed how you felt towards her, you particularly weren’t eager to let it slip out. Sure, you heard an earful of the Doctor’s warnings and the exasperation in his tone every time he found you with her. And as he reminded you that she was very, very dangerous, harbored a strong dislike of humans, and could be very manipulative when she wanted to be.

Part of you hoped that you didn’t fall into that category. But the self-preservation instinct in you reminded you that you might.

The thought that maybe she was using you to get to the Doctor sent an ache through your chest. You didn’t want to be blindsided—to be naïve enough that you were sure you’d be the exception to her distaste for humanity. You needed to be practical—despite the complete impracticality of dropping plans with classmates and friends to visit with the Time Lady. You weren’t an exceptionally emotion-driven type. But then again, you weren’t usually the crush type either.

So, you played it subtle. Or at least tried to. Your visits remained fairly regular, and she didn’t appear especially eager to scare you off, and maintained her expected level of pointed jabs, occasionally cruel, but often very funny commentary, and occasional insults that lacked the sentiment behind it to get to you.

Slowly, your visits evolved from story monologues, to listening to her play the piano, discussing books, even turning an old projector into a screen to show TV shows and films either you or her hadn’t seen.

And even her asking you the occasional question about yourself. It wasn’t until feeling quiet attentiveness in her gaze while waiting for your reply that you realized she was serious.

Despite his constant reminders not to fall for her tricks, you had absolutely developed a soft spot for the Time Lady. She had a biting wit, a wicked sense of humor, and tales that kept you on the edge of your seat. Sure, you weren’t entirely sure if they were all true. (Yet, you had a feeling most of them were, given what you knew about your other Time Lord friend).

Needless to say, you were smitten. You tried not to be obvious about it, though she was incredibly smart, so you didn’t doubt she must have picked up on it partly at the very least.

She seemed to at least like the company and audience enough to not try to trick you into your death. Which for her, seemed like at least a good start.

Much to her dismay and your delight, you could tell she was starting to openly enjoy you returning for visits so often. The way her eyes lit up and her lips curled into a smile instantly when you stepped across the threshold of the vault had you easily mirroring her expression.

By now, you were no longer phased as she swung open the glass of her “cell” and stepped out with a flourish. You responded by lifting your gifts of cheap wine into her line of sight.

You could have almost sworn she almost snorted a laugh as her head falling back in a fit of amusement. Your face warmed at seeming to get a genuine laugh out of her and you offered a cheeky grin in return as she shook her head in mock-exasperation and stepped toward to your usual comfy chair setup with a small table.

You tossed your rucksack down and set down the several containers of boxed wine. You knew Missy would complain about it the whole time, but drink it all anyway.

“Terrible. I don’t even know why I bother giving you recommendations,” she said, falling back onto the old cushioned loveseat.

“Because your last recommendation was the blood of a fresh virgin sacrifice.” Missy seemed to once more get a kick out of her own joke and crinkled her nose with a teasing smile. “—and when you finally did give an actual wine recommendation, every bottle you mentioned was at least a few hundred pounds out of my price range.”

Missy kicked her feet up onto the table with a light scoff, waving her hand in dismissal with a slight shake of her head. “You don’t put a price tag on good taste.” You shook your head, still half-smiling as you pulled out a couple of clear plastic cups that had her rolling her eyes again and shooting another look of disapproval that had you grinning again.

“You do on my budget.” That earned a small huff of a laugh from Missy as she tutted in mock-disappointment at the spread.

“Besides, I don’t think bringing you breakable, sharp glass would be very advisable, given the wines I’ve brought you the past few visits.” Missy chuckled at that. “Now that’s true. But alas, I’ll overlook that this once, just to show I can be a both fair and firm overlord.” she shot a wink at you, reaching for her pseudo-glass. You did roll your eyes at that. “How very gracious,” you deadpanned without missing a beat.

“You’ll have to open that atrocious thing,” Missy nodded towards the wine. You shot her a skeptical look, but leaned over and reached for it anyway. “Being an intergalactic genius, I assumed you would know how to open boxed wine by now.” Her lips twitched upward at the backhanded compliment. “Wine wasn’t made for boxes, dear. It’s unnatural and one of humanity’s greatest atrocities,” She kicked her legs over the other side of the loveseat, reclining with a bored expression. “—and why would I ever want to know such things when others do it for you. It’s bad enough that I’m reduced to slumming it with a plebe like you.”

That did strike a bit of a nerve, but you held it back and played along anyway as if it hadn’t.

“If it’s so much below you, then I’ll take myself and my plebian wine back to my flat to slum it alone in peace then,” your tone was light, but you couldn’t help but frown as you abruptly stood, reaching for your bag and the boxes.

Your head snapped up at her sudden grip on your arm. You blinked at the silent speed with which she had risen from the chair and now stood beside you. The glint in her eyes offered a stark reminder of exactly who she was.

“Don’t you dare,” her voice dropped to a low threat that almost sent a shiver down your spine, but instead you offered her a quietly challenging look, meeting the icy heat of her gaze with quiet defiance that said then play nice.

You released your grip on the box and her grasp loosened.  You tossed your bag back towards your chair with a sigh. “Fine.”

Then at least don’t act like you’d rather me leave.

The thought remained unsaid, but you hadn’t anticipated the heavy silence that fell between the two of you then. But you had grown painfully aware of her sudden closeness to you. Something akin to regret seemed to shift in her gaze. Your breath nearly caught as she raised a hand and let her fingers softly graze your jaw before, in a rare moment of hesitation on her part, she let her hand fall back to her side.

You knew that despite her half-hearted attempts to insult and belittle you, you saw exactly what she was actually trying to do.

She enjoyed your visiting time every bit as much as you did. Despite her efforts to get under your skin. You occasionally caught the slight look of pride hidden in her gaze when you stood your ground and didn’t flinch at the things she’d say just to elicit a reaction.

After a long pause, she looked back up to you and made a faux cat claw gesture with her hand. “Rrrraaaoooww,” 

you couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous sound and pantomime. Which, you were quite sure was the idea, as the added coldness dissipated once more. She plopped back onto her sofa with a huff. “Now that we can put the claws back, pour me a glass before I change my mind.” You shook your head softly, crouching down and opening the spout on the box before pausing and reaching back for your rucksack. “Right away, your highness,” you added dryly.

From your bag, you pulled out a small bottle with the dim glinting reflection of foil at the top. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Missy’s brows raise, but said nothing as you unwrapped the foil and set the small corked bottle on the table.

“Alright, now this is bordering on overkill—what’s the occasion? I see you’ve brought the top shelf gutter wine for me, and you even bothered to bring those bloody red cups that make it feel like an American frat house in here. So, tell me. What’s gotten you so worked up?”

You turned back to her with barely concealed grin,

You hesitated. You shouldn’t be surprised she knew you well by now.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” you said and paused, hesitantly meeting her pressing gaze. Missy smirked at that. “And it’s not my surprise to give away.”

Missy leaned forward, with a teasing smile. “Ohhh, so the Doctor! Come on, tell me. Don’t worry, I’ll act surprised.” Her finger bopped softly on your nose before giving a dramatic look of surprise. “See? It’ll be a little secret for just us girls.”

You had expected it would end up like this, and you had a very strong suspicion that the Doctor had expected you to tell her before he did. Maybe to get her warmed up to the idea.

“Well….yes, the Doctor spoke with me earlier today, ” you paused, furrowing your brow as a pang of guilt shot through you at the possibility that the Doctor hadn’t planned on you telling her. However, the weight of Missy’s pressing gaze left little room to back out of what you had started, so you spat it out.

“He was open to letting you out for an adventure in the TARDIS…..to see how you’d do. Responding to a distress call, or something.” “—he wants me to play him?”

You hesitantly look up at her, truly unsure how she would react.

You knew their history was complicated to say the least. But as far as specifics went, they were few and far between. Not knowing much about their history to begin with made it difficult for you to predict the reaction of an already unpredictable woman.

But her face lit up as a sly grin fell across her lips, her head falling back as she erupted into a thunderous laugh. After a long moment, she regained her composure to lean forward in her seat, propping her chin up on her hand.

“He wants to give me a go at playing him? Hilarious. A bit like playing Doctor Who style probation, is it?” “Ah….a bit? I suppose.” To your relief she laughed at that, the tenseness in your shoulders easing as she visibly relaxed and her face light up, gears visibly turning in her head at the possibilities.

“Yes. Playing goody-good Doctor shouldn’t be too hard,” she turned back to you, leaning forward again in her seat, as if sharing something in confidence. “Besides, I’d love to show him just how easy it is to do his job, just to rub it in his face for a laugh,” she added with another pondering expression, more thinking out loud than to you. Her eyes snapped back to yours after a moment, sparkling with mischief as she stood and slowly paced past you.

“S’ppose either way that’s better than 70 more years in the vault…” You nodded, looking over the back of your chair and smiling softly as she seemed to come to life at the notion of seeing something other than this same room. She turned and walked back towards you, hands resting proudly on her hips as she swayed with each step. “—And am I to assume he’ll be supervising this little excursion?” slowed to a stop behind your chair. “That was one of his conditions.” “Supporting expendables and all?” “Ah. I…you mean Nardole and Bill? “—and you.” You blinked in surprise, mildly offended. “I can come if you like…. calling me an expendable isn’t exactly an assuring start.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, of course you’re coming.”

You nearly jumped at the feeling of her hands suddenly at your shoulders as she stood behind your chair. Her face dropped to hover over your shoulder, close enough to feel her breath against your cheek. You froze, but didn’t move away from her touch.

“Besides. The Doctor gets his companions, I should be allowed mine.”

Did she just…?

“So, don’t be so tense, pet,” her hands slid down the outside of your arms to rest on either side of you. Her lips moved closer to your ear as her voice lowered. “Stick close, and don’t wander off, and you shouldn’t have too much to worry about,” She finished with a quick peck to the side of your cheek and straightened back up to full height. “Now, the bubbly,” she said, extending her hand expectantly. If was anyone else, you might have asked for a please before even moving, but somehow, knowing full well that she wouldn’t even if you had, you found the light order strangely endearing coming from her.

You reached forward and grabbed the mini-champagne, passing it and a glass to her. She gave you a sly wink and draped herself sideways over the arm of your chair as she readied the bottle as you held the glasses. The cork shot-out from the mini-champagne with a pop! And you made a noise of complaint, but couldn’t help but laugh as the booze quickly fizzed over and splashed onto you. You held the glass as she poured until it was overflowing, causing more to slosh onto you from the too-full cup.

“Hey—rude,” you grumbled as she purposefully poured even more into the glass and nudged you so its contents splashed onto your shirt and by now had the jeans on your leg nearly soaked.

“That’s what you get for being clumsy,” she clicked her tongue in a mock-patronizing tone. You reached to try to grab the bottle when she moved it away and held a finger up. “Ah-ah, this is my gift, remember. I didn’t have to share.” “But you didn’t share!—you could have had two glasses from that,” you offered indignantly. “And yet, here you are, making a mess in my vault, covered in what would have been second glass. So, in a way, I did share didn’t I? See, I’m becoming more giving already.”

You shot her an unamused look that had her smiling slyly at you once more. You made a small sound of annoyance, but otherwise didn’t bother questioning her logic at this point, and poured yourself some of your boxed wine. She raised a glass and stuck a pose pausing for dramatic effect. “A toast,” she began, stopping to take a cheat sip of her own overflowing glass. You found a smile forming on your lips as you raised your own glass.

“To what exactly?” “To freedom, bitches.” “—well, sort of,” you added quickly with a near snort of a laugh, ignoring the exasperated look she sent you.

You didn’t want her get any wrong ideas about the Doctor’s intentions, but held up your glass anyway. “Ugh…fine. Then to sort of freedom, bitches!” She revised with as much enthusiasm as you clinked the plastic cups together.

“I’ll drink to that.”

-----

Note: I will be jumping back and forth between this and another fic, so keep your eye out for that!

storytag list:

@c-s-stars​ @anteroom-of-death​ @twistedgoddessoftimelords​ @justaproudslytherpuff​ @hallospaceboyy​

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 28)

For someone who wears a sling, Azula is strangely unintimidated by the prospect of going back to sea. Sokka isn’t particularly surprised though, she always has been the resilient sort. The type to brush things off and get back to whatever task she had been doing before tragedy struck. It is one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place. If he isn’t mistaken he would say that she is rather eager to get back to sailing.

He can think of several other things that he’d rather be doing. “Wouldn’t it be quicker to just take a plane back home.”

Azula tilted her head, “we can’t just leave the boat.”

“I dunno, that thing looks pretty banged up, I’m sure that you guys could get a newer and better one.”

“Sokka, it’s not even our boat.” Zuko points out. “We’re borrowing it from that ex-pirate who runs the town bar.”

Sokka cocks his head. “Why would he lend you a boat?”

“He and dad have gotten close.”

Sokka furrows his brows.

Azula sighs and scans the beach for her Ozai before whispering, “I already told you about father’s drinking problem.”

He flushes as the pieces click. “Oh, yeah. Bars. Drinking. Talking to the bar owner.”

Azula swats him, “not so loud!”

“Ow! Blisters!”

Azula rolls her eyes. “Your days of being babied are over!” She declares. “And besides, most of your blisters are gone now anyways, you’re just trying to get special treatment.”

“And that takes the attention away from you?” He quirks a brow and gestures to her arm.

“I,” she draws the syllable out, “am not complaining.”

“Hey, Sokka!” Katara calls. “I found a piece of your raft.” She holds up a bright yellow strip.

“Anyways, I still think that we should travel by plane. Ozai and Jet can sail the boat back and the rest of us will meet him there.”

Azula fixes him with a dull stare. “Sokka, that’s a terrible idea.”

Looking equally as unentertained, Zuko adds, “I’m not going to leave my father unattended.”

“And your father isn’t going to leave you unattended either.” He mutters. “Not after the fiasco with the souvenir shop.”

Zuko flushes, “that wasn’t even my idea.” He flicks his gaze to his sister.

She gives one of her faux innocent stares. “I can’t do much damage like this.” She strokes her sling.

“It only takes one hand to pop several blisters.” Sokka grumbles.

“Gross, Sokka!” Katara exclaims.

“Our luggage is on the ship.” Ozai remarks.

“What about Jet?” Katara asks.

“He has been on the ship avoiding me.” Azula crosses her arms.

Sokka can hear the hurt in her voice but she says nothing more of it. He feels another onslaught of guilt for finding relief in Jet’s avoidance. If he is angry with Azula, then he won’t have to worry about the other boy getting in the way of things. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times Azula assures him that she has chosen him over Jet, he still can’t shake away the paranoia. He isn’t sure how close she had gotten to Jet and he is afraid to ask. Just as he can’t shake his dread of the sea.

“Come on, Sokka. Everyone else is on board.” Her touch is much gentler this time, less playful.

“I’d really rather…”

“Take a plane. You’ve said so.” She nods. “It’ll be fine, we got here in one piece.” He doesn’t miss the split second glance she makes at the sail. It might be that he is over thinking things, but he has a suspicion that there was a mishap with that sail. “And you won’t be alone this time if we get lost.”

“Unless…” he lifts a pointer, “we get separated by a storm.”

“We’ll be fine, Sokka.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it would be absurd for the universe to hand you back if it was just going to kill you a few weeks later. Why would it when it could have just killed you in that storm?” She shrugs.

“Gee. That’s reassuring.” He rubs the back of his head. Her humor has always been somewhat dark but her delivery has never been this dry. Dry to the point where he thinks that she is only half joking. It is just one more glimpse into the damage he has done in disappearing for so long.

And then it dawns upon him--and he swallows a lump in his throat--that in the time that he had left, she has changed. It wouldn’t make sense if she didn’t. But what if she has changed into someone that he doesn’t particularly love...could she have changed that much? Could he have changed as well?

“Come on, Sokka.” She says softly, more sympathetically. “I have something for you.”

He bites his cheek. There really is no sense in drawing this out, he knows that he is getting on the boat one way or another. It is probably better to spare himself of Azula fetching her father to carry him aboard kicking and screaming. He also can’t deny that she has piqued his curiosity.

He follows her onto the ship. It is a lot sturdier than his was. And bigger.

“Khozen says that this ship has survived a few decades of storms.” Azula points out as she leads him below deck and to the cabins. “And, just so you know, we tested that. Overall, it is a well built ship.” She sits down upon what he assumes is her bed and she pats the spot next to her.

He takes a seat. He looks the girl up and down as she shuffles around a suitcase. Now that the novelty is wearing off he is noticing more things. More changes; mostly his gaze is glued to the scar on her chin. He wishes he didn’t, but every time he sees it he imagines her with cloudy eyes and none of that fiery spirit standing at the edge of a cliff. He sees a different person entirely. A more dismal person.

The real Azula is much different than the one in his mind’s eye. She is grinning, holding something behind her back. “I’ll give you three guess. If you don’t get it then you don’t get the thing that I am holding.”

Some of his anxieties wash away as a memory drives the darker images out of his mind. Now he is picturing a much smaller Azula with big eyes, chubby cheeks, and a missing front tooth.

He can’t quite get the voice right in his head, but he remembers her declaring, “what am I holding, Sokka!? If you get it right, you get a prize.” She only gave him unlimited guesses because she knew that hadn’t stood a chance. Usually with this game, other kids held was  coin or a toy. Azula...she was always different. After guessing, “a coin? A stick of gum? A dollar bill? Five dollars!? A rubber duck…” She held out her fist and opened it to reveal a cherry pit.

So that is what he goes with, “it’s a cherry pit, isn’t it?”

She shakes her head. “Good guess, but now.”

“A pumpkin seed?”

Azula rolls her eyes. “Pumpkins aren’t in season.”

Her eyes, they are the same, but they are different. He thinks that they aren’t so care free anymore. There is a knowingness to them. A hardness that goes beyond any physical changes.

And there are plenty of those too. He had expected her to have grown taller, but she really hasn’t. But her face has lost a little more of its softness, he thinks that her cheekbones are more pronounced. He thinks that her muscles are more defined...that would explain the iron grip that she’d had on him. She wears her hair differently too, it is somewhat more tousled and is no longer bound up.

“Stop thinking so much and just start throwing guesses. I’ll give you a hint.”

Sokka pretends like that is what he had been thinking about. “Shoot.” He forces a smile.

“It has seen better days, but it’s still kind of cute.” She pauses. “Sort of like you.”

His smile becomes more genuine and he tries not to laugh. “It’s my clownfish isn’t it?”

Azula blinks before chucking it at him. “You cheated.”

“It isn’t my fault that you gave such an obvious hint.”

She turns her head and folds her good arm against the other. “That was a pity hint.” He is glad that she does. It reassures him that she is still there. Even if her eyes are more tired, even if her body bares the scars of a rough period, her smile is still the same. Her mannerisms are the same.

He puts the stuffed clownfish to the side and puts an arm around her. He can’t fault her for her changes, not when she has probably observed some within him.

.oOo.

He has lost his spunk. His adventurous spirit. The ocean stole that from him and dragged it to its depths alongside his cargo.

His posture isn’t quite right. At first she thinks that it is because he is physically frailer. The doctors had warned that it might take several months for him to re-attain a healthy body weight. And that it might take longer for the patches of discolored skin to even out again.

But they hadn’t warned her that his mind might be frailer. Though she thinks that it was probably implied. He still jokes and quips. He still makes her laugh. But he always seems weary and on edge. As though the sea will flood and snatch him back from wherever he stands.

Azula can’t hold it against him. She can’t imagine it is all too different from the fragility that had gripped her own mind some time back. She lets him hold her but she feels as though she should be holding him.

“When did you start wearing your hair down?” He had inquired a few hours ago.

“I think the month after you left.”

“Why?”

She hadn’t had the heart to tell him that it was because she had simply stopped seeing the point in putting so much effort in. Instead she told him that she needed change, and it wasn’t a complete lie. It was simply a small fragment of a whole truth.

“When did you decide to grow a beard?” She had tried to lighten her own mood.

“It wasn’t a decision.” They both laughed at this. And just as she had begun to stop laughing, he flared his nostrils and gave his beard a few pretentious strokes. “Do you fancy it m’lady?”

“You’re shaving tomorrow.” Secondhand embarrassment had spread color upon her cheeks.

The conversation had died away three hours ago. She pretends to be asleep, she isn’t sure if he wants to be caught crying. She wonders if she should get Katara, it seems somehow more appropriate to have a sister comforting a brother. That is how it has always been between she and Zuko.

Azula looks at the bed over. Katara is sleeping soundly. Pictures of events that Sokka has missed are still sprawled out on her nightstand. One by one Katara had been going through them, catching Sokka up on everything.

Azula doesn’t know how the pair had spent the alone time she’d given them, but Katara had went to bed extra cheerful.

“When did you wake up?” Sokka asks as he wipes his eyes.

“A few minutes ago, I guess.”

“Oh.”

“Why are you crying?” She notices that he is shaking and comes to a few conclusions. The boat rolls and bobs as it makes its way through the waves. “The ocean is very calm tonight. Do you want to go on deck?”

He shakes his head abruptly. “I don’t like how open it is.”

Azula nods. She takes his hand. She could tell him that it really isn’t that bad, but what good would that do? It would only be entirely dismissive. And a simple, ‘it’s going to be okay’ seems insufficient. Instead she says, “you were strong enough to find sleep on an unstable raft, you’re strong enough to get used to this.”

Though she thinks that these words might only be comforting to her. She thinks that words might not mean much at all right now. Her grip simply needs to be stronger than the pull of the sea. So she holds him close and waits for his anxious trembles to pass.

If he falls asleep in her arms then she will just deal with the earful that her father will give her.

“You used to love the ocean. You can’t fear it now.” She tries. “You beat it. You shouldn’t fear something that you have defeated.”

[spideyy-girl]

Prince Charming ~ Richie Tozier [IT]

Requested by @caswinchester2000: combined one prompt from each request for this (sorry if it’s disappointing, but I hope you still enjoy!)

22: “Can I trust you?” “Probably not, but you will anyway.” “Good to know.”

24: “Shut up and kiss me already.”

Warnings: henry being a bully >:(, blood, mentions of parents fighting/abuse

Word Count: 1149 (3.3 pages)

~~~

The warm summer breeze hit your face as you ran down the shallow river, holding the hand of your new friend Ben and tugging him along with you. The water under your feet splashed violently with each step you took, soaking the bottom of your ripped mom jeans, not that you noticed. The sound of your heavy breathing deafened you as you sprinted down the rocky waters. 

Suddenly a weight pulls you down, and you hit your head hard on a jagged boulder in the river. You groan and rub the side of your forehead where you got hit, pulling your hand back to see dark red painted across it.

Before you could think any more of it you hear a hiss, looking back at Ben and seeing him with his hand over his belly. You crawled over and took his hand away, gently lifting his shirt to see the wound that god awful Henry Bowers put on him before you pulled him out. It looked as if he had been carving his name into Ben's skin.

You made mental note to beat the shit out of him next time you say him.

"Holy shit! What happened to you guys?" You hear a voice and quickly move your head to look in the direction of it. There you see four boys standing in the entrance of the barrens, all looking at you in shock. You recognized them from your school, they were in your homeroom for a few years.

Richie Tozier was the one who spoke. He was known as the trashmouth of the school, with thick glasses and thicker black hair. His friends, Bill Denborough, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Stanley Uris stood with him, quizzically looking on. 

"Well, are you just gonna stand there and watch us like some freak show?" You said harshly, as you tried standing up but fell right back into the water, feeling faint still. Eddie and Stan rushed over to the two of you, trying to help you up. You tried swatting away their hands as they helped you up but once they let go you grabbed Stan's shoulder, as he led you over to his other friends.

"W-w-we should g-get them to a doctor," Bill suggested, offering you a smile as you and Stan walked over. You tried to return it, but couldn't really do anything properly as it seems at the moment, so it turned out more like a grimace. 

"Looking like that? No way in fuck, they're going to start asking weird questions and shit," said Richie, rather loudly. He turned to look back over at you. "Lucky for you pretty lady, we've got the best doctor in Maine right here, isn't that right doctor K?" He nudged Eddie beside him who just pushed him away.

The group of boys helped me and Ben through some plants that you could've sworn looked like poison ivy to where their bikes were placed. Ben went with Bill as Richie went over to me, Stan helping him over to the trashmouth's bike. 

"Can I trust you?" you asked quietly, partially not wanting to know the answer. He took your hand and helped you onto the back of his bike, sitting down in front of me before replying.

"Probably not, but you will anyway," he said as he pushed off and began to pedal behind his friends through the woods towards the town pharmacy. You tightly gripped his waist and buried my head into his back as you sarcastically replied.

"Good to know." you could hear him laugh at the witty response. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Just know I wouldn't let anything happen to a girl with such a pretty face. Fuck knows that's rare to find in this damn town." He said it seriously but you couldn't help the laugh that escaped your lips.

"Oh, my prince charming!" you squeal sarcastically, a smile still on your lips. When he looked back over at you, he let his own smile spread across his face.

~~~

It had been a couple of weeks since you had that first encounter with the Losers club, and since then the group had gained two new friends named Beverly and Mike. You were the group of town rejects, but who the hell cared when you all had each other.

Or that's what you thought before. Until you all split up after fighting at the Neibolt house. 

You sat in your room, cheap headphones over your ears as you try to block out the loud yells of your parents. You knew it was only a matter of time before your father started throwing plates again. It was times like this that you missed your friends, giving you an excuse to get away from your house, from the constant mess and screams.

You were blasting your music so loud, so lost in your distant thoughts, that you didn't hear the rocks hitting your window. Next thing you know, the infamous town trashmouth is crawling through your window. You almost shriek when you see him, thinking he was trying to rob you.

"Well don't give me that, you weren't answering so what was I supposed to do?" He said as if it was obvious. You roll your eyes as you respond.

"Maybe try knocking at the front door like any normal human?" you suggested, raising your eyebrows as you take off your headphones and throw them on your bedside table. Richie looked down, a rapid change in demeanour.

"I didn't think it was an option... considering I could hear them from down the street. Thought I shouldn't get in the middle of that," he explained. At the answer, you visibly shrink, embarrassed of your parents being so loud. He reaches over to lay a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, I get what it's like."

You look up at him in shock as he just smiles welcomingly, leading you to the window as he helps you from the ledge to the branch of a nearby tree. "My prince charming," you joke once you get to the bottom, Richie jumping down right beside you."

"You know I'll always come to save you, princess," he says. You grab his hand as you guys sneak away from your house and down the street. Once you've walked out of eyesight from your street he turns towards you and gives you a playful smirk. "So, where's my reward, princess?"

You roll your eyes as you grab the collar of his tacky hawaiian shirt and pulled him closer. "Just shut up and kiss me already," you said smugly, taking him by surprise. Nevertheless, he hastily presses his lips against yours. 

If someone told you a few months ago that you would be kissing Richie Tozier this summer, you would've laughed in their face. But as it was happening, you couldn't imagine anything better than these precious moments.

~~~

Tags:  

Permanent:  @phonegalhelp​ @caswinchester2000​ @gwenebear​ @morganvanilla​

A/N: sorry this literally took half a year!! Ik I’m the worst I was just feeling so uninspired and unmotivated lately but writing this has sparked something in me so thank you! Also sorry it wasn’t exactly what you requested but I felt this would be better than if I wrote two I had no idea what to do with? But thank you for waiting and requesting and I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Stab Deterrent

More of my own ideas...sorry :P I have to write them to get them out of my head.

Peter gets stabbed and requires the assistance of Dr. Cho and her cell regenerating device to heal. What follows makes Peter never want to get stabbed ever again.

word count: 4,050

............................................................................................................

Peter got hurt pretty often, what with being a superhero and all. High hospital bills and painful wounds were an occupational hazard that simply came with the job. But this evening—this injury—was different.

Tony had been dicing tomatoes in the kitchen when he got the ping from FRIDAY—an alert triggered by the vitals monitor in Peter’s suit. It was the kind of thing he’d come up with and installed but hoped would never be required. But Peter, being Peter, meant the utilization of the sensor far more often than to Stark’s liking.

“What did he do this time, FRIDAY?” Stark sighed, twirling the knife through the air. “Swallow a bomb? Pound seven Monster energy drinks in under a minute?”

“Peter Parker has been stabbed in the abdomen,” FRIDAY replied. “He’s losing blood fast and needs immediate medical attention.”

The knife dropped from Tony’s hand and clattered against the granite countertop, his playful attitude disintegrating in an instant. He was suited up in seconds, heart hammering in his ears, a line of sweat breaking along his brow. “W-where is he? How fast can I get to him?”

“Creating a flight path now.”

He was barely conscious when Stark arrived. He’d been gutted by some psycho, who was stuck to the wall in front of Peter beneath a large glob of webbing, the bloody dagger still gripped in his fist. Tony dropped to the asphalt and rushed to Spider-Man’s aid, lifting his head up with a hand under his chin. “Kid? Kid, are you okay? It’s Tony. Can you hear me?”

The eye lenses on his mask fluttered open sluggishly. It took a moment for his vision to focus on the terrified face in front of him. The world spun and his side ached. His voice came out weak and coarse, like he’d been gargling gravel. “Mis’r Stark…?” he murmured, whimpering quietly and gripping his wound tighter. From the ribcage down, Peter’s suit was soaked in blood.

“I got you,” Tony assured him, breathless with fear, sliding one arm under his knees and another around his back. “You’re gonna be fine, okay?”

Peter simply groaned in response. Once the kid was tucked safely against his chest, Stark blasted off the ground and soared above the skyline.

Tony had alerted Dr. Cho to prepare her tissue-building device for an emergency procedure. By the time Iron Man was standing outside of her office with the injured kid in tow, the machine was ready for him. The doctor and her team carted him away, and Stark was forced to wait in the lobby.

It was two hours before he got any news. Two hours of pacing, worrying, biting his nails. When the doors finally creaked open, Tony flew to his feet.

“Is everything okay? What happened? How is he?”

The young nurse smiled fondly upon the concerned billionaire, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Everything is fine, Mr. Stark. The boy was given a blood transfusion and fluids, and he is in the final stages of the tissue repairing operation. His insides are fully healed; all that’s left is the epidermis.”

Tony allowed himself to breathe for the first time in what felt like days. He laid a hand over his chest and bowed his head. “Oh, thank God. I thought…I was so afraid that…” He combed his fingers through his hair, puffing out his cheeks. “Thank you. All of you.”

“Of course,” the nurse said cheerfully. Then he wrinkled his nose. “Although, I have to tell you: we are having a bit of trouble completing these last layers of operation.”

Stark clenched his jaw. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“There’s no need to be alarmed,” the nurse insisted. “Peter is fine, I promise you. The only problem is that Mr. Parker is awake now, and we can’t seem to get him to stay still enough for the device to heal his skin correctly.”

Tony’s terror transformed into confusion. “What, is it hurting him or something?”

The nurse shrugged. “He won’t say. But the operation is supposed to be painless. A soft tingling sensation is the only thing patients have reported feeling.” He nodded at the door. “We were actually hoping you might come back here and help us try to keep him still.”

Tony blinked. Why wasn’t the kid cooperating? He was normally so eager to please, and he’d never been a problematic patient in the past. “Uh, sure,” he said eventually. “I’d definitely like to see him.”

The nurse smiled and led him down the hall. Two left turns later, and they were in the operating room.

Three people in blue scrubs occupied the small space. One was typing something into a desktop computer, the other was looking through a clipboard full of papers, and the third was messing with the short arm that hung above the table in the center. The table that Peter was laid out on, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and looking a little red in the face.

“Peter?” Tony called, hurrying to his side. The kid glanced up at him sharply, and he swore the red darkened a little.

“Oh, Mr. Stark!” he greeted him. He sat up slightly, clearing his throat. “Um, hi.”

“Hey,” he sighed back, patting his shoulder. “You gave us all a real scare there, kiddo. Probably shaved a few of my waning years off.” He gave his arm a small squeeze. “You feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled shyly. “Sorry. It was a stupid mistake, I promise. Won’t let it happen again.” He lifted hjs gaze. “Thank you—you know, for helping. ”

Stark’s eyes wandered down to the kid’s torso, where the only remnant left of the stab wound was a small patch of bright pink flesh. It looked like someone had branded a perfect rectangle into his belly.

“The nurse said you’re not staying still for the last leg of the procedure,” Tony said, noticing the immediate shift in Peter’s expression. “You want to tell me what that’s about? He said this wasn’t supposed to hurt.”

Peter turned away from him and rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. “No, it’s not…not that,” he stammered. “It’s fine, Mr. Stark. I’ll, um, be still.”

“What is it, then?” he prodded. “You have to tell the doctor what’s going on, Pete. If it really does hurt, then—”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, looking anywhere but him. “I just—I’ll come find you once I’m done, okay?”

Stark narrowed his eyes at the kid. Why was he being so dodgy about this? He was acting like he was guilty or embarrassed about something. “Yeah, no,” he finally said, crossing his arms against his chest. “I think I’ll stay until the procedure is finished, just to make sure this ‘nothing’ really is nothing.”

Dread washed over the kid’s face as Stark turned on his heels. “Doc?” he called. “Kid says he’ll stay still. If you’re ready, feel free to fire it up again.”

Dr. Cho eyed him skeptically but gave her coworker a nod. With a click, the machine hummed to life, and the young nurse pushed on Peter’s chest. Reluctantly, the kid laid back down, drumming his fingers on the table, chewing on his lip.

“Sequence beginning in three, two, one,” the operator counted off. After one, a small beam of light fired from the tip of the arm, and it began to trace over Peter’s wound.

For the first few seconds, Peter did as he was told—he lied there, unmoving, letting the device work its magic. No sweat. Stark started to wonder if Peter and the staff had banded together to pull some kind of weird prank on him. But then, as the beam passed over his torso a third time, the kid stiffened. His hands curled into fists against the bed and his feet began to twitch. Tony looked down at Peter’s face and saw that his eyes were scrunched shut and his lips were pursed together tautly.

“Peter?” Stark said. “Kid, is it hurting you?”

He shook his head briskly, his ears flushing pink. The kid’s eyes flew open suddenly and he slapped a hand over his mouth. A muffled whimpering sound slipped between his fingers as his twitching turned into squirms.  

“Doesn’t look very still to me,” Dr. Cho said dryly. She signaled for the nurse to shut it off, but Tony raised his hand.

“Wait,” he said, turning on the kid with a frown. “Peter, stop trying to act tough. We’re not turning it off until you tell us what’s going on.”

Peter threw his other hand over his bright pink face. “Ihi’m s-sohorry,” he whined, his voice much shriller than normal. “I’m—I cahan’t—ahaheehee!”

Stark narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to the squirmy teenager. “Wait,” he said bemusedly, spotting the wide smile peeking out between the kid’s fingers. “Are you…laughing?”

A few seconds later, Peter balled his hands into fists and dropped them against the table, his crumbling front finally giving way to a flood of giggles. “Crahahap!” he squealed, arching his spine, blushing as bright as a tomato. “Ihit—it r-reheheally—it tihihickles, eheehee!”

Staring down at the giggling superhero, Tony’s frown slowly melted into an amused and puzzled smile. “It tickles?” he repeated, glancing over at the doctor in search of an answer. Dr. Cho placed a hand on her hip.

“Huh. I’ve never heard that before.”

Peter covered his face again and scrunched up his toes, high-pitched laughter pouring from his lips. “Plehehease—oho gohod!” When he couldn’t bear it a second longer, he rolled on to his side and curled into a ball, desperate to relieve his tummy of the fiendish tickling sensation. The device operator quickly shut the beam off, leaving the kid panting and flushed, struggling to catch his breath.

“Well that was…surprising,” Stark chuckled. Of all the suspected causes Tony had thought responsible for the kid’s uncooperativeness, this certainly hadn’t been one of them. How funny, he thought. He couldn’t help but smile as he looked at poor, giggly Peter, who was hugging himself around the middle and panting. He was almost too damn cute for words.

“I’m sohorry…” Peter giggled breathlessly, his belly tingling against his fingers. “Just…gimme a sec…”  

“No one has ever told me it tickled them before,” Dr. Cho said curiously, joining Tony at Peter’s bedside. “At least, not to this extent. Is Mr. Parker known to be a particularly sensitive person?”

Tony shrugged, unable to wipe the endearing grin from his face. “I mean, no. Not to me, anyway.” He’d never attempted to tickle Peter before, and he’d certainly never witnessed anyone else try it either. It wasn’t exactly something that came up naturally between a mentor and their mentee working in a lab and beating up bad guys together. He made a note to amend that mistake soon after this—and from the uneasy anticipation he could read from the kid’s expression, he guessed Peter was aware of his plans.

Stark gave his shoulder a nudge, making Peter start a little.“What do you think? Would you consider yourself a super ticklish person, Peter? Like, compared to normal people?”

Peter sat up slowly with an arm still glued to his torso, the pink tint in his cheeks beginning to creep down into his neck. “Uh, heh, I don’t…I don’t think so.” He gave a nervous laugh—strained and quiet and very easy to distinguish from his authentic one—and scratched the back of his head. “But, um, you know what? It’s fine. I don’t need any more healing laser beam treatments. If it’s just that little bit of skin left, my body can take care of the rest of it, no problem.” Moving briskly, he scooted to the edge of the bed and swung his legs off the side. “So, uh, we good here?”

Dr. Cho stepped in front of him to stop him from hopping to the floor. “Hold on, Peter. Your wound is still in danger of hemorrhage and infection. I can’t release you until the procedure is fully complete.”

Peter looked to Stark with pleading eyes, like he expected the billionaire to rescue him from this hilarious predicament. Tony snorted. “You heard the doc,” he said, poking Peter just below his ribs. Peter jumped and squealed in the most cute and clumsy way, making Tony’s evil grin widen. “Wow. You are really ticklish, huh?”

“Stohop it!” Peter squeaked, betrayed. His anger was quickly drowned in laughter as Tony started to poke him all over, alternating between both hands, his index fingers tasering the kid’s bare sides, belly, and ribcage wherever they weren’t being guarded by his arms, throwing in the occasional squeeze or flutter when they seemed appropriate. Within seconds, he was curled back into a tiny ball, kicking and jerking and laughing hysterically, reduced to a helpless, giggling mess.

“This is ridiculous,” Stark laughed. “You’re a superhero. I’ve watched you fight off an army of alien monsters with ease. Now you’re telling me all it takes to defeat you is a few pokes to the tummy?”

Peter grappled with his mentor’s hands while flailing all over the table. “Mr. Stahark! Wahait! Ahahack! Nohoho!”

“All right, that’s enough,” Dr. Cho interceded, fighting back a smile. The rest of her team hid their endearment far less gracefully. “We need to complete the procedure as soon as possible. And Mr. Parker will have to be still for it.”

“At this rate, I think you ought to just knock him out,” Stark chuckled. Clambering to recompose himself, Peter sat back up again, skittish and pink.

“He’s been under for many hours now. I’d really prefer not to sedate him again, especially since the remainder of the operation should only take about five minutes.”

The doc had a point. Peter really didn’t need any more drugs in his system. Tony smiled at the flustered teenager with a mix of pity and delight. “Well, what do you say, kiddo? You think you can stay still for five more minutes so the doctors can finish fixing you up?”

Peter was clearly still recovering from Tony Stark’s poke attack, but he did his best to look unabashed. His eyes flickered between all the gazes trained on his half-naked, blushing self, and he hunched his shoulders up to his ears. “I…uh…w-well…” he stammered softly. Stark couldn’t stop himself from snorting.

“Perhaps we could restrain him?” the nurse from earlier suggested suddenly. “Just until the procedure is finished. That way, there’d be no risk of him moving and messing up the pattern.”

Tony watched Peter’s eyes bug out of his head. “W-what? Restrain me?”

“Good idea,” Dr. Cho said, rounding the table to stand behind Peter’s head. “We need to do this quick. Peter, lie back with your arms above your head.”

Again, Peter looked to Tony. As much as Stark would love to save the kid from this adorably embarrassing scenario, they really needed to get his wound fixed. He patted his arm.

“Let’s just get this over with. The faster we start, the faster it’s done.”

Peter groaned as Tony helped him lie down, his ears burning. “I hate thihis,” he whined, nervous giggles already punctuating his words.

Using heavy-duty clasps that Stark provided, the doctors began securing him to the table. Tony did his best to comfort the kid as they did. “I’ll stay with you until it’s over, okay?”

“Noho,” Peter snapped shyly. “You’re just gohonna make fun of me.”

Tony tried not to smile, but simply couldn’t help himself. “I promise I won’t. At least, not until after.”

Peter pouted and blushed as his ankles and wrists were shackled to the table. Using thick bands, they also tied his torso down so that he couldn’t buck his hips or arch his back and wind up disrupting the device’s precise cell mapping again. The feeling of complete immobility was not in any way to Peter’s liking.

Once he was secured, Cho gave the word to the operator. The man held his finger over the switch.

“Sequence beginning in three, two, one…”

A moment later, the beam clicked on, and the mechanical arm began to make passes over the kid’s wound. Tony laid his hand on Peter’s arm.

“You okay?” he asked carefully. Peter nodded with his eyes shut and his lips sucked against his teeth.

“Mmhmm, yeah. I’m fihine.” He puffed out his cheeks and scrunched up his nose. “Everything’s fine. Yep. Ihi’m great. Soho great. I can do thihis. I cahan doho this. Ihi cahahan—”

His eyes popped open suddenly and he tried to squirm. The futile attempt quickly reminded Peter of the fact that he couldn’t move an inch in any direction. He hadn’t been fully aware of just how well restrained he was until now, when the soft, feathery tickling sensation had reached an unbearable level of intensity, when it felt like six or seven hands were clawing delicately at his tummy, letting their nails glide against his skin with sadistically light and rhythmic movements. How did the machine imitate that feeling so perfectly, even though that wasn’t even something it was designed to do?

The tickling was too much for the helplessly sensitive teenager to take. But to his horror, he couldn’t move a muscle. He couldn’t make it stop.

“Shihihit!” Peter squealed, the floodgates bursting open. “Nohoho I cahan’t!” He clenched his fists and threw his head back, giggling wildly, uncontrollably. “Mr. Stahahark! Hehehelp!”

Tony laughed empathetically, moving his hand to the kid’s head and running his fingers through his curls. “You’re all right, giggle monster. Just let it out; it’ll be over soon.”

Not soon enough! he thought. The feeling was spreading across his entire torso like a plague, inflicting more and more of him with the maddening sensation. The feathery touches and scritchy-scratching nails were multiplying by the second. Peter whipped his head from side to side.

“Nohohahaha! Plehehease! I cahahan’t—I cahahahan’t!”

“This is intriguing,” Dr. Cho said, watching the poor hero twitch and shriek uselessly. “I’ve never seen the procedure affect someone so dramatically.”

Tony petted Peter’s hair, fighting back against his own bout of giggles. The kid’s laughter was adorably contagious. “I’ve certainly never seen him like this. Maybe your machine is malfunctioning.”

Dr. Cho stared at Peter’s wound, watching the device work its magic on the damaged cells. “Well, it’s doing its job. Just a few more minutes, and it’ll be done. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“IHIHI’M DYHIHIHING!” Peter cried. Tears welled in his eyes and hiccups jumped from his throat. He couldn’t believe how much it tickled—like someone was blowing fifty raspberries into his tummy at once. Although he’d never admit it, there had been times in his life where he’d actually enjoyed being tickled. Wrestling with Ben as a kid, affectionate pokes from May—sometimes it was the only way to cheer him up when he was in a really low spot. The people who knew him best knew this annoying well, and weren’t afraid to utilize it.

But this? Tied down and tickled to tears, laughing like an idiot in front his biggest idol? This was just downright evil. All he could do was lie there and take it, the endless bombardment of tickling sensations dancing across his skin, driving him up the wall. He wanted to thrash and twist and guard his poor belly from the beam’s cruel path, but the only thing he could do was twitch his toes and squirm in place and laugh helplessly.

“Just try to think about something else,” Mr. Stark suggested. “Like, uh…what are you working on in school? Got any cool upgrade ideas for your suit? How’s your aunt?”

Peter barely even registered that he was speaking. He really wished he could hide his face behind his hands right now. He knew he was all red cheeks and giant, dumb smiles. “PLEHEHEASE!” he begged, turning away from Mr. Stark as much as his restraints would allow. “NOHO MOHOHORE! NOHO MOHOHOHORE! AHAHAHAHA!”

Suddenly, the beam flickered off. In an instant, the tickling sensation shrunk back to a tiny tingle. “All done!” the operator said cheerfully. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Peter fell limp against the table, gasping for breath, dizzy with relief. He’d never laughed so long and hard in his entire life. Giggles still clung to his words. “Gah…aha…oho my…oho gohod…” He let his head loll to the side while Tony continued to card his fingers through his hair.

“That was probably the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Stark said matter-of-factly. “And I met an alpaca on Tuesday. A baby alpaca. Like, a real live baby alpaca. You know how tough that is to beat?”

“Shuhut up…” Peter groaned, smiling. Now that he wasn’t distracted by tickle-filled laser beams, he realized how nice it felt to have Tony petting his head. He didn’t do that kind of thing very often. It kinda made Peter feel like a puppy.

“All set,” Dr. Cho said, pressing lightly on the kid’s now fully-healed stomach. Her touch made Peter wince in surprise. “You’re good to go. Let’s get you out of these bonds.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Stark insisted. “You guys go on ahead. Grab yourselves a fancy lunch. My treat.”

The doctors all grinned at each other like kids in a candy store and hurried eagerly out of the lab with a wave of thank yous. Stark shook each of their hands as they left, then returned to Peter’s side once they were alone.

“Here we go,” he said, undoing the straps around the kid’s midsection. Their absence made it a lot easier to breathe.

“Thanks,” he said, sucking in a large gulp of air. “That was…horrible.”

“I encourage you to remember this experience the next time you decide to put yourself in a potentially stabby situation,” Stark said with a smirk. “Good deterrent I’d say, yeah?”

Yes, very much so, Peter thought. But he wouldn’t give Mr. Stark the satisfaction; he’d already had plenty. He knew his mentor was never going to let him live this day down.

“It is crazy how well that thing works,” Tony said nonchalantly. Then he reached out and poked the spot where Peter had been stabbed, making him jolt.

“H-hey!” he yelped. The straps were gone, but Peter’s ankles and wrists were still shackled to the table, so he was still very trapped and vulnerable.

Stark swirled his finger against the spot, smiling at the kid’s squeaky, hysterical response.“I mean, it looks like it was never even there, doesn’t it?”

“Dohon’t! Mr. Stark, dohon’t!” Peter had almost forgotten what it felt like to have an actual hand tickling him instead of a weird beam. Oddly enough, the hand seemed more effective at eliciting a quicker, wilder response. “Come ohon! Lehet me goho!”

“What? I’m just admiring how remarkable Dr. Cho’s invention is at doing its job,” Tony said innocently. “I can’t even tell where your wound was anymore. Do you remember? Was it…here?”

He tasered his side suddenly, making Peter leap.

“Or…here?”

He poked just below his bellybutton. Peter was in pieces.

“Mihister Stahahark!”

“Or maybe it was here.”

He made a claw with his hand and shook it against Peter’s entire tummy. Peter was a writhing, squealing puddle.

“Stohopstopstohohahahap!”

“I know!” Tony exclaimed. “I bet the new skin feels different from your old skin. More synthetic, maybe? Let’s see…”

Using both hands now, Stark started pinching and squeezing all over his sides, his ribcage, his belly, his hips, everywhere. His evil thumbs dug in deep and wiggled mercilessly into Peter’s skin, honing in on the spots that elicited the most reaction. Peter bucked and shrieked, but he couldn’t get away.

Tony let up quickly after that, recognizing when the kid had really had enough. He just couldn’t help himself—he loved hearing the kid laugh, seeing him look so happy, especially after almost losing him today. He was glad to have this knowledge in his back pocket, in case Peter was ever in a particularly bad or stubborn mood in the future.

“Are you good?” Stark chuckled, helping the giggly teen to his feet. He stuffed the clasps in his pocket then ruffled his hair.

“Yohou’re evil,” he said, hugging his aching sides. “You’re gohonna pay for this.”

“Are you threatening me right now?” Stark scoffed, tweaking the kid’s ribs, making him fold into himself and squeal. “Bad idea. Especially now.”

Needless to say, Stark did not end up paying for it.

[trashcanreddiefan]

The 1st Annual Losers' Club Christmakkah Celebration

Summary: The Losers gather for their first annual Christmakkah celebration. Several announcements are made, and Richie’s Christmas wish just may come true.

Word Count: 2800-ish

Warnings: None whatsoever. This is pure fluff.

Author’s Note: Post-Chapter 2. All of the Losers are alive in this fic, including Stan, because canon can suck it.

1st in a (at least) 3-part series where the Losers take turns hosting Christmakkah.

CROSS-POSTED AT AO3.

Bzz bzzz. Bzzz bzzz. Bzzz Bzzz. Bzzz bzzz.

Richie Tozier groaned and picked his phone up off of his nightstand, squinting at it in the harsh early morning light and smiling sleepily when he saw that new messages were flooding in in the Losers’ group text thread.

Benverly (Bev): First annual Loser’s Club Non-denominational Holiday Celebration at Ben’s house on December 24th!

Benverly (Ben): OUR house, Bev.

Benverly (Bev): Our house. :-*

Benverly (Ben): I love being able to say that.

Micycle: Can’t wait!

Billiam: Audra and I will definitely be there!

Staniel: Patty and I will be there.

Eds: I’m coming.

Richie waited until everyone had confirmed before sending his response. Oh, I don’t know if I can be away from Eds’s mom for that long.

Eddie’s reply immediately came through.

Eds: Dude, you realize the joke no longer works since my mom’s been dead for 12 years, right?

Eds: Also, fuck you.

Richie grinned. Love you too, Eds.

Staniel: Richie, you had better be there or else I’m personally coming get you and dragging your ass to Ben & Beverly’s.

Richie shook his head. I’m kidding, guys, I’ll be at Christmakkah. Honestly, I wouldn’t miss it for anything.

Eds: Good, it wouldn’t be a Losers’ Holiday Celebration without the biggest loser of us all.

Richie snorted with laughter. Ouch, Eds, you wound me. 💀

Eds: Truth hurts, asshole. And that’s still not my name.

Billiam: Christmakkah? Really?

Staniel: Actually, I kind of like it.

Benverly (Ben): Ok, 1st annual Losers’ Christmakkah Celebration at my & Bev’s house then. :)

Everyone had mutually agreed that gifts weren’t necessary, that everyone having made it out of Neibolt alive and It being well and truly dead was gift enough.

Richie was never one to follow the rules, however, which is how he found himself loaded down with gift bags in front of Ben & Beverly’s house 3 weeks later. He rang the doorbell.

A few seconds later the door swung open to reveal Eddie.

Richie blinked. “Hey, Eds.”

A smile spread over Eddie’s face. “Richie, hey. Come on in, everyone’s in the dining room.”

Richie stepped inside and Eddie reached for some of the gift bags. “Here, let me help you with that stuff.”

Richie and Eddie deposited Richie’s gifts in the living room. Once Richie had taken his jacket and gloves off and was settled, Eddie pulled him into a hug. “I’m really glad to see you, man.”

“Same here, Eds. I’ve missed you– I mean I’ve missed all of you. Even though it’s only been a few months. Yeah. Anyway, let’s go in the dining room so I can see everyone else.”

Once they reached the dining room, Richie announced his presence in his usual loud, playful fashion. “Happy Christmakkah, Losers!” he shouted.

“Richie!” came the chorus of replies, followed by hugs and greetings.

Bev rubbed her hands together. “Good, now that you’re here, let’s eat!”

After dinner, everyone gathered in Ben & Bev’s gigantic living room to sit by the fire and socialize. Stan, Patty, Ben, & Bev sat on one sofa, Audra, Bill & Mike were on the other, and Richie and Eddie each sat in the 2 armchairs by the fireplace.

“While we’re all here, Patty and I have a gift for everyone,” Stan announced. “I know we said that we weren’t going to get everyone gifts, but…” he shrugged. “You’ll just have to deal with it.”

He began handing out bags to everyone. “Don’t open them yet.”

Richie fiddled with the tissue paper sticking out of his bag as he waited for Stan to sit back down. “Ok, go ahead,” Stan said.

Richie pulled the tissue paper out and pulled out a white onesie that read “I love my uncle.” He looked around everyone else, who all held the same gift, with Bev’s reading “I love my aunt” instead.

Stan placed a hand over Patty’s stomach. “We’re expecting!” he said excitedly.

Richie jumped up and gave Stan a hug. “Staniel, you old dog, congratulations!” He then turned to Patty, giving her a much gentler hug. “You guys are going to be fucking phenomenal parents, I just know it.”

After everyone had congratulated Stan and Patty, Ben cleared his throat, looking at Bev in silent conversation. Bev tilted her head in affirmation.

Ben got up and grabbed some gift bags from behind the couch. “Here you go, everyone,” Ben said sheepishly, handing them out.

Each bag contained a dual photo frame, one side holding a picture of the Losers’ at 13 and the other holding a more recent group photo that had been taken at the Jade of the Orient before they had all remembered It, and an envelope.

Richie tore his card open. Inside was an engagement announcement.

Bev linked her fingers through Ben’s. “We’re getting married,” she said happily. “We decided to do it while you’re all still here for the holidays since we want the most important people in our lives to be there.”

Another round of congratulations echoed around the room.

Bill spoke up next. “I brought gifts too. No announcement though, at least not unless you count a new book deal.”

Everyone congratulated Bill as he handed his gifts out, Richie good-naturedly teasing him about hoping Bill had finally learned how to write an ending.

“Ok, so I’m assuming no one listened and brought everyone a gift anyway?” Mike said, then nodded when Richie and Eddie both murmured an assent. “In that case I’m going next.”

He handed everyone their gift, then settled back down. “I do have a small announcement –  I’ve decided to settle down in Key West. I just closed on a house last week.”

“Next Christmakkah at Mike’s,” Richie said jokingly, unwrapping his gift.

Mike had gifted each Loser with something he had picked up during his travels, Richie’s being a hand-carved wooden turtle.

He glanced at Mike.

“I saw that at a little roadside stand in Arizona and thought of you for some reason,” Mike explained with a shrug.

“I like it,” Richie replied with a nod. “Thanks, man.”

He hadn’t told anyone what he had seen in the deadlights, but he had distinctly remembered seeing a giant turtle right before he fell.

“What about you, Eddie?” Bev asked. “Any announcements?”

Richie studied Eddie’s profile. He looked… calmer than the last time Richie had seen him. Then again, the last time Richie had seen him they had just defeated IT a few days prior, so naturally they were all still a little frazzled.

“Actually, yes,” Eddie replied. “I filed for divorce once I got back to New York. Also, I quit my job. I figure at this point in my life it’s too late to become a doctor, but I’ve decided to go to nursing school to become a nurse practitioner.”

Richie’s heart sped up. Eddie’s single.

He mentally chastised himself. He's still your best friend, not to mention straight. Don’t fuck it up. He blinked as Eddie dropped a gift bag in his lap.

Eddie had obviously taken great care in selecting each person’s gifts, giving Bill a nice fountain pen and notebook set, Audra a spa certificate, Mike a hardcover coffee table-type book, Ben a vinyl re-release of New Kids on the Block’s Hanging Tough album, Bev a silk scarf that she had offhandedly mentioned wanting during a Losers’ Skype session a few months prior, Stan a book on exotic birds of Moldavia or something (Richie wasn’t quite sure) and Patty a broach with a hummingbird on it.

Richie carefully opened his gift, pulling out a leather jacket very similar to the one he had lost in the sewers. He softly stroked it.

Eddie had been watching him. “Thought you could use a replacement,” he said.

“Thanks, Eds.”

Richie realized belatedly that it was his turn. His mouth went dry. He almost blurted out that he didn’t have anything for anyone and that he had absolutely nothing to say, but Eddie had helped him haul his gifts in so he knew that wouldn’t work.

He stood and hurriedly passed out everyone’s gift bags. “Uh, my gift is also an announcement and this was the best way I could figure out how to do it, so…” He made a ‘go on’ motion with his hands. “Ok, go ahead.”

Each Loser (with Stan and Patty receiving one bag) pulled out a CD single of “I’m Coming Out” by Diana Ross.

Richie studied each Loser’s expression as they looked at their gift. Ben, Bill, and Mike all looked confused, Bev had a slow smile spreading on her face, Stan was shaking his head while trying to hold back laughter, (the fucker, he probably knew back when we were kids –) and Eddie… well for once in his life Richie couldn’t read Eddie’s expression. He took a deep breath. “So yeah, um, surprise! I’m gay.” He did a little ‘tah-dah’ motion with his hands as an emphasis. “I’m gonna come out publicly soon but it was important to me to tell you guys first.”

Stan was the first one to move, standing and wrapping Richie in a hug. “I’m proud of you, Rich,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, I mean somebody’s gotta be the cool gay uncle to the next generation of Losers,” Richie joked, holding back tears as the rest of the Losers embraced him.

He sniffled. “Ok, as much as I’m enjoying this mostly beefcake-filled love fest, I, uh, I need some air. I’ll be back in a few.”

Richie quickly detached himself from everyone and headed out to Ben and Beverly’s porch.

He had figured everyone would be supportive of him, but it had still been overwhelming. He took a few deep breaths in order to collect himself then froze as he heard a voice behind him.

“Hey Rich, you ok?” Eddie.

Richie sniffled and cleared his throat. “Yeah, man, I’m fine. Just needed a minute.”

Eddie walked up next to him. “I uh, I have to tell you something else,” he said quietly. “It’s why I divorced Myra.” He shook his head. “I mean, obviously I wasn’t happy, but there was more to it than just that.”

Richie fought the urge to make a joke about Eddie realizing his Oedipus complex. Now’s not the time, Tozier. “Hey, man, your life is your business, if you don’t want to talk about it that’s up to you–”

“I’m in love with you,” Eddie blurted.

Richie blinked. “You’re in what with who now?”

Eddie sighed and looked skyward as if praying for strength.

Richie couldn’t believe his ears. “Ed. Eds. Eddie. I swear to Christ if you’re just fucking with me–”

“Jesus, Richie, do you honestly think I would ever do that–” Eddie spluttered.

“–Because I honestly couldn’t take it if you were.”

Eddie shook his head. “Look, Rich… All these years, it wasn’t just my childhood memories that were missing, it felt like… like part of my soul was gone too. I’d been attracted to a few guys in college – all tall, dark-haired, lanky motherfuckers, but I always felt like I was comparing them to some unknown person so they never worked out. Then I met Myra and she was just so… safe that I buried that part of myself and wound up marrying her, even though I knew I was making a mistake.”  

Eddie smiled. “Then about a year ago I caught one of your specials on TV and felt a peace I hadn’t had in years. So I watched all of the shows that I could get my hands on, then I found a bunch of clips of you on YouTube and watched those too. There was something so… familiar about you, even though in the back of my mind I knew something was off - which as it turns out, was that your jokes weren’t really yours.” He huffed out a laugh.

Richie winced. “I’m working on that.”

“Good. You’re much funnier than you give yourself credit for.”

“You think I’m funny?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head.”

Richie was still processing. What the actual fuck. “So wait, so you're… into dudes?”

Eddie smirked. “Well, I’m certainly not actually into women.”

“And you’re into me in particular.”

“Yes.”

Richie still didn’t quite get it. “Why?”

Judging by Eddie’s reaction Richie realized he hadn’t just thought it, but had said it out loud.

“Because, Rich, you’re you. You never made fun of me because of my hypochondria, you always protected me when Bowers would give us shit, and no matter how bad things got at home I always knew I could go to you and you wouldn’t ask any questions and would let me stay as long as I needed. You’re my best friend and I always loved the way you made me feel when I was around you. At first I thought it was perfectly normal to feel for your friends like I felt about you, but as we got older and I started to analyze it I realized that I didn’t feel about any of the others in quite the same way.  You were always joking around and acting like you didn’t give a shit about what anyone said, and I wanted to be like that… You made me want to be brave.”

Richie’s heart cracked. “Eds. I’ve told you before. You are brave. You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

Eddie shook his head. “I wasn’t though. For the longest time I was terrified to admit it to myself, but after everything that happened this year I knew I was finally brave enough to tell you. I love you, Rich. I’ve loved you since we were 12 years old, and when I turned and saw you at the Jade the final pieces of the puzzle sort of slotted back into place. I knew I couldn’t go back to New York and keep living life the way I had been, but I also felt like I couldn’t tell you how I felt about you while I was still married. It wasn’t fair to you or to Myra. So when I got home I told Myra as much as I could, and we mutually agreed to separate. The divorce was finalized last week.”

“Fuck, Eddie…” Richie couldn’t believe it. Eddie loves me. Eddie LOVES me. Holy fucking shit, EDDIE loves ME.

Eddie was still talking. “And I mean it’s fine, I know just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you’re into me, and if you didn’t feel the same back then or even now it’s okay because– mmph.”

Before Richie could even process what he was doing he had pulled Eddie to him and had slotted his lips over Eddie’s.

Eddie’s lips were just as soft as Richie had always imagined. I see he’s still using Chapstick religiously, he thought, moaning as Eddie nipped his bottom lip then soothed the bite with his tongue while his hands reached up to tangle themselves into Richie’s unruly hair.

He briefly detatched himself from Eddie’s lips. “I love you too, Eds,” he breathed. “I loved you before I even knew what love was and I’ve loved you every day since. You’re it for me.”

Eddie let out a growl and pulled him back in, immediately deepening the kiss.

Oh Jesus Christ yes, PLEASE. Richie would’ve happily stayed right there on Ben and Bev’s porch making out with Eddie all night, but unfortunately he was outside in 30-degree weather without a coat. He shivered.

Eddie pulled back. “Christ, Richie, you’re freezing. Come on, let’s go inside with the others.”

Richie held him back. “Wait, wait, Eds. How exactly is this going to work? We live on opposite sides of the country.”

Eddie bit his lip. “I um, actually I didn’t exactly say where I was going to school either.” He glanced up at Richie. “I enrolled at UCLA.”

A smile bloomed on Richie’s face. “Really? You’re moving to L.A.?”

“Yeah, I mean UCLA has a great nursing program and I needed a change of scenery anyway, so I figured the west coast would be a good choice…”

Richie thought about his cold, empty house in Beverly Hills. Here goes nothing. “So, do you like, have a house or apartment or anything yet?”

Eddie shook his head. “No, not yet. I’m looking into apartments near campus but I haven’t found anything yet.”

“Because you know you can totally come stay with me while you look for a place, or… even better, just move in with me permanently.” Richie bit his lip. “Because like I said, you’re it for me, Eds. You’ve always been it for me. You’ll always be it for me.”

Eddie was silent for a few moments, appearing to be weighing his options. Finally he said, “Okay.”

Richie’s heart leapt. “Okay?”

Eddie grinned. “Yeah. Okay. Because you’re it for me too, you know.”

“Well in that case…” Richie grabbed Eddie’s hand, dragging him inside. “HEY, EVERYONE! WE HAVE ANOTHER ANNOUNCEMENT!”

[saiilorstars]

Stars Dance

Ch. 12: Hopeful Painting

Fandom: Doctor Who Pairing: 11th Doctor x Original Female Character

(Previous chapters)

Fairy Tale Memoirs (Companion story)

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0

Chapter summary: On a trip to a museum, the gang realize there's something just not right with Vincent Van Gogh's artwork so they must go back and meet him. It brings about some new details that Avalon hadn't been intending on sharing with anyone...ever.

The Doctor, Avalon, and Amy walked through an museum exhibition room displaying Vincent Van Gogh's artwork. While Avalon seemed a bit bored - it was why she was lingering behind - Amy moved around with her guidebook in hand. She was so excited and she had already warned the Doctor and Avalon that she would be seeing every last artwork in the room. Van Gogh was just one of her most favorite artists!

"Thanks for bringing us," Amy looked back at the Doctor who gave her a smiling nod in return. "Well, me," Amy glanced at Avalon who was making a crinkled-nose face at something. She suspected Avalon had found yet another annoying visitor. She'd found at least three in the last 10 minutes, claiming they were so loud for nothing. "Cos Avalon would pretty much rather be anywhere else."

"You are pretty much right," Avalon confirmed and laughed, "I'm not one for arts."

"Well, I asked if you'd rather choose another place instead," Amy reminded, though the mere idea of leaving the museum without checking out everything on her list wasn't very appealing.

"I'm good," Avalon looked around with a smile, shrugging carelessly. "I'm very, very, good." The museum wasn't her first choice but she wasn't about to make Amy leave just because she didn't agree with all their art opinions. Everyone had their different artists, Amy loved art and Avalon preferred stories. Plus, the museum did have some nice artwork, Avalon just didn't get the point of staring at them for so long. She assumed it was like when she read a book and wanted to go to reread it because it was just so good. But how do you do that with art? It's just one page? She'd get bored fast, and she did.

But one day wouldn't kill her. It would test her patience, but it wouldn't kill her. Let Amy stare at her one-paged artwork.

Amy was staring at artwork, but she also noticed other things. The main thing she noticed right now was how Avalon would drift away and suddenly the Doctor would too. Amy didn't mind looking at the artwork on her own. Actually, she didn't mind at all. The Doctor was such a commentator on everything. He made it impossible to look at an artwork without wanting to kill him.

So, Amy gladly watched the Doctor follow Avalon to another portrait. It was actually a common thing now. Ever since Amy caught them in the media room dancing together, they'd been closer. They still bickered but it was that playful bickering and not that murderous type Avalon often did. Something had changed and as curious as Amy was, she would not ask them about it for fear of ruining it. It was really nice seeing them get along and she wanted it to last.

Though that might be changing again...

Avalon was gazing at a painting and talking to the Doctor only to realize the bloody alien wasn't even listening! He was looking back at two boys in front of another painting, talking about a doctor. Avalon rolled her eyes. The ego, she thought and slapped his arm, making him jump and look back at her, "I was talking!" she frowned.

"Hm? Oh, right, I completely agree," the Doctor made an effort to seem like he'd been paying attention. He had no idea what she'd been saying...

"Oh really, you agree with everything I just said?" Avalon crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, I complete agree," the Doctor nodded. He didn't want to irritate her and ruin their relationship that had actually been going so well lately. It been so nice and him not listening might be the reason she gets all sad again. Sad Avalon was not a version he liked.

"Okay then," Avalon held her hand out with a sly smile, "Hand over the TARDIS key."

"What!?"

"Well, you just said I could go back and learn how drive it while you and Amy look around," Avalon wiggled her fingers, "So c'mon, hand it over."

The Doctor nervously laughed and quickly moved beside her, throwing an arm around her shoulders, "Let's save that for later, shall we? We can spend quality time with Amy and-"

"You weren't listening at all, just say it," Avalon crossed her arms again, sending hin a flat-eyed expression.

"I wasn't listening at all," he gave up and sighed. Another way to avoid conflict was to always say the truth with her.

Avalon rolled her eyes and shook his arm off her. "Next time just say so or who knows what you might end up giving up to me. The TARDIS...the screwdriver..."

"I'm gonna stop you right there," the Doctor pointed.

"Or the watch!"

The Doctor slapped a hand over his watch on his wrist. "I don't think so! It is my favorite watch!" He found it almost as soon as he got back to the TARDIS after his most recent regeneration and he almost smacked himself for never noticing it. It was such a cool watch. "I would never agree to give it up, much less to the likes of you!"

Avalon smirked. "Keep up the not listening and one of these days it'll end up on my wrist." She raised her left wrist and passed her fingers over it. "Lovely wrist, right here."

"Keep dreaming, Reynolds."

"Are you two arguing?" Amy walked by the pair, shooting them both scolding eyes.

"He started it!" Avalon was quick to gesture at the Doctor.

"No I didn't!"

"You weren't listening!"

The Doctor opened his mouth to keep on arguing but she actually made a good point. "Oh...yeah, maybe I did." Avalon hummed in agreement, satisfied that he'd taken his fault.

"You two, I swear..." Amy mumbled under her breath and nodded for them to follow her. "Look at this one," she stopped them in front of a painting with an odd building, least that's what Avalon said it was which elicited an offended gasp from Amy and the Doctor. "It's 'The Church at Auvers!"

"Sorry," Avalon raised her hands in defense.

"Honestly, Avalon!"

"What? It's not like it's a big deal-"

"Doctor, tell her something!"

But the Doctor had found something curious about the painting that he was sure shouldn't have been on there. Avalon noticed his eyes squinting at something and she wondered, or perhaps dared to think, there was something out of place.

"Look at that," he finally told them and raised a finger to what he was looking at. One of the church's windows had a small dark figure painting in it.

Amy leaned forwards and stared more intently, "Is it a face?"

"And not a nice one," Avalon looked back at the Doctor with a bright smile, "Does that mean we get to leave now?"

The Doctor made a 'stop talking' motion with his hand and noticed one of the lecturers nearby, Dr. Black, and quickly headed over.

"Did he just give me 'the hand'?" Avalon blinked with a mouth half-open, "Amy?"

Amy put a hand on Avalon's arm, gripping it so she would be forced to stay still, "Let's not kill the man who's our only ride."

"Hm," Avalon huffed and started walking after the Doctor anyways, pulling Amy who yelped with the girl's strength.

They caught up with the Doctor just as he was asking Dr. Black about the painting, "Do you know when that picture of the church was painted?"

"Ah, what an interesting question. Most people..."

"I'm going to have to hurry you," the Doctor cut in as he saw the man taking his sweet time to answer, "When was it?"

"Exactly?"

"As exactly as you can. Without a long speech, if poss. I'm in a hurry."

"Well, in that case, probably somewhere between the 1st and 3rd of June."

"What year?"

"1890. Less than a year before he killed himself."

"Thank you, sir. Very helpful indeed. Nice bow-tie," the Doctor pointed to the man's own bow tie and looked back at the gingers behind him, "Bow-ties are cool."

"Not really," Avalon whispered sarcastically to Amy who snickered.

"Yours is very..." Dr. Black also pointed to the Doctor's bow-tie.

"Oh, thank you. Keep telling them stuff," the Doctor turned to Avalon and Amy, although before he could say anything, Avalon interrupted.

"And we get to leave, yes!" she cheered and clapped her hands, "Meet you there!" she waved and ran off.

"She really does not like museums," the Doctor blinked at such haste.

"Mhm," Amy agreed and so they followed.

~ 0 ~

The group stepped out of the TARDIS to find themselves under a dark night and in a solitary alleyway of a town. The Doctor led the women through the alleyway while explaining the 'plan' he'd come up with, "Right, so here's the plan. We find Vincent and he leads us straight to the church and our nasty friend. "

"Easy peasy," Amy shrugged.

"Have you met the Doctor?" Avalon scoffed, the man about to defend himself but realized she was absolutely right and therefore shut his mouth, "Not to mention Van Gogh's own problems," she continued, "We'll be lucky if he even accepts our friendship."

"Well, we can always hope and try," Amy shrugged.

Avalon scoffed, "'Hope', that's a good one. It doesn't exist," she muttered and moved on with arms crossed.

The Doctor and Amy silently followed after Avalon, both of them glum due to Avalon's words. They arrived at the local cafe of the town where they figured Vincent Van Gogh would most likely be at the moment.

The Doctor approached the cafe and saw the owner by the entrance, "Good evening," he greeted, "Does the name Vincent Van Gogh ring a bell?"

"Don't mention that man to me," the owner muttered and walked into the cafe.

The Doctor turned to the waitresses clearing up the tables outside the cafe and tried one more time, "Excuse me. Do you know Vincent Van Gogh?"

The waitress closest to him made a distasteful face, "Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Amy walked over to the entrance of the cafe where the Doctor stood.

"He's drunk, he's mad and he never pays his bills."

"And yet he paints marvelously, doesn't he?" Avalon asked. Her answer was the laughter of the waitresses combined with the customers at the tables.

"I thought you didn't like art," the Doctor moved to Avalon, a bit dejected from the laughter.

"Just because I don't like art doesn't mean I don't recognize the talent," Avalon explained quietly, still shooting the waitresses a hard look for laughing.

"Come on! Come on!" they heard a man's pleads from the inside of the cafe, slowly carrying over as the voices grew closer to the door, "One painting for one drink. That's not a bad deal."

The owner emerged from the cafe holding a canvas and turned around just as a second man came out. Amy, who stood across Avalon and the Doctor and therefore closer to Vincent Van Gogh, nearly hopped up and down from excitement. The Doctor gave her a thumbs-up while Avalon playfully rolled her eyes and took a seat at an empty table. She presumed this had been her when the Doctor took her to visit Mary Costa.

"It wouldn't be a bad deal if the painting were any good," the owner argued, "I can't hang that up on my walls. It'd scare the customers half to death," he waved Vincent's self-portrait painting without a care in the world. "It's bad enough having you in here in person, let alone looming over the customers day and night in a stupid hat. You pay money or you get out."

"It's not a stupid hat you know," Avalon joined the conversation, or argument, "And I wouldn't make a fashion statement while wearing that," she pointed to the attire of the owner.

"What my good friend meant to say-" the Doctor began a bit nervously.

But Avalon cut him off with a loud scoff. "I meant what I said," she informed and promptly received a hand over her mouth, making her glare at the Doctor.

"Anyways," the Doctor gave a bright smile, "We'll pay if you'd like."

"What?" the owner turned to them, still eyeing Avalon coldly for her rude comments.

"Well, if you like. We'll pay for the drink. Or we'll pay for the painting and you can use the money to pay for the drink."

Vincent turned to the pair with confusion, "Exactly who are you?"

"We're...new in town."

"Well, in that case, you don't know three things. One, I pay for my own drinks, thank you," Vincent was startled by the immediate laughter of everyone nearby, "Two, no-one ever buys any of my paintings or they would be laughed out of town, so if you want to stay in town, I suggest you keep your cash to yourself. And three, your friends are cute," he pointed to Avalon and Amy behind him, "But that one-" he pointed at Avalon again, "-looks like she's about to kill you."

"That's common," was all the Doctor had to say, glancing at Avalon for some kind of opinion until he realized he was still covering her mouth, "Sorry," he mumbled and took his hand back. Well, at least this time she didn't bite him. That was a win!

"I really was," Avalon agreed with Vincent, "So," she looked at the owner, "How's about you let the man have another drink and you'll be paid tomorrow."

"No," the owner spat at her.

"Or, on the other hand," Vincent looked at him again, "Slightly more compassionately, yes."

"Or, on the other hand, to protect my business from madmen, no."

"Or-"

Amy had enough and stepped in between the two men, "Oh, look, just shut up the pair of you!" she pushed them apart and turned to the owner, "I would like a bottle of wine, please, which I will then share with whomever..." she glanced at Vincent, "...I choose."

Vincent smiled, "That could be good.'

The owner shrugged, seeing himself being paid either way, "That's good by me," he walked off into the cafe again.

"Good," Amy proudly said and followed.

~ 0 ~

After receiving the bottle of wine, Amy had taken a seat beside Vincent at the table Avalon had chosen to sit in earlier. She'd placed the wine and glasses on the table for everyone and had gotten along rather well with Vincent.

"That accent of yours. You from Holland like me?" Vincent asked her

"No," Amy shook her head at the same time the Doctor had answered 'yes' with a nod.

"Why don't we start again?" Avalon suggested and leaned back on her chair, "Hi, my name is Avalon. That's Amy, and that's the Doctor-"

"I knew it!" Vincent startled Avalon with his near shout.

"I'm sorry?" she frowned.

"My brother's always sending doctors, but you won't be able to help," Vincent warned with a finger at the Doctor.

"No, not that kind of doctor," the Doctor chuckled and noticed one of the Vincent's unfinished paintings on his side and pointed, "That's incredible, don't you think, Amy? Avalon?"

"Absolutely. One of my favorites," Amy nodded while Avalon merely gave a shrug and sip her wine.

"One of my favorite whats?" Vincent suspiciously looked at Amy, "You've never seen my work before."

While Amy went into a state of stutters, Avalon calmly set her wine glass on the table and sighed, "She means it's the best painting she's seen in her life," Amy quickly nodded.

Vincent sighed, "Then she can't have seen many paintings, then."

"Oh no, she's seen many," Avalon shot the ginger a mock-glare, "I know because she's dragged Mels and I to every last museum she's ever heard of."

"I have not," Amy leaned on the table.

Avalon scoffed, "Your lying is becoming a sickness, Amy. Don't you feel shame lying in front of Vincent?"

"You are over exaggerating!"

"Am not. If Mels were here, she'd back me up," Avalon smirked.

"Your hair is orange," Vincent cut in and made both gingers look at him, though Avalon saw the comment hadn't been for her but for Amy instead.

Avalon scoffed again and crossed her arms, leaning back on her chair, "Going to have to step up your flirting, Vincent."

"I think he's doing just fine," Amy shot her a mock-scowl and leaned closer to Vincent, "Your hair's also orange."

"Yes. It was more orange, but now is, of course, less."

"So, Vincent, painted any churches recently?" the Doctor had to intervene. He didn't know what would be worse: hearing Avalon and Amy bickering or the flirting between the painter and the Scott, "Any churchy plans? Are churches, chapels, religiousy stuff like that, something you'd like to get into? You know, fairly soon?"

"Way to be subtle," Avalon mumbled.

Vincent was too focused on Amy to notice the insistence on the painting, "Well, there is one church I'm thinking of painting when the weather is right."

"That is very good news," the Doctor gave Avalon a smile, only to see her reaching for more wine. He smacked her hand away and ignored the death glare she had for him. He could only imagine how much her temper would be emphasized with alcohol and that was something he'd rather not see any time soon.

A woman came running down from an alley screaming, "She's been murdered! Help me!"

"That doesn't sound good," Avalon bolted out from her chair and ran towards the screaming woman but not before smacking the Doctor upside the head.

"That woman is incredibly strong," the Doctor rubbed his head as he glumly stood up, ignoring the laughter from Amy and Vincent by running after Avalon and the screams.

They found Avalon pushing her way through a crowd of local townsfolk and all saw a young girl's corpse laying on the ground. The Doctor quickly dropped to the girl's side and checked for any vital...before he saw the corpse was actually dismembered.

"Oh my god," Avalon breathed and put a hand over her mouth, "She's been ripped...to shreds."

That didn't look like anything a normal...'murder' should look like. It didn't seem like the town had animals roaming around and if anything, the nearby locals would've heard the roars of an animal. It had to be something different, something...not human.

Amy moved closer to Avalon and tried looking away from the corpse while Vincent moved to the Doctor's side. However, the women found themselves pushed to the side by a middle-aged woman shouting at the group, "Away, all of you vultures! This is my daughter," she knelt beside her daughter's corpse, "Giselle. What monster could have done this?" she shooed away the Doctor and Vincent, "Get away from her!"

"OK, OK," the Doctor stood up and backed away with Vincent.

"Get that madman out of here!" the mother glared at Vincent and picked up a nearby rock to throw at him, "You bring this on us. Your madness! You! He's to blame!"

The rest of the crowd started throwing rocks at the group and forced them to run from the spot. They ended up on the other side of the alleyway to catch their breaths,

"Are you alright?" the Doctor looked at Vincent.

"Yes, I'm used to it," Vincent nodded.

"I know the feeling," Avalon mumbled and sighed.

The Doctor looked at her for a minute, confused and yet surprised by her words. He glanced at Amy and immediately the ginger looked away as if trying to avoid something. "Vincent, has anything like this murder happened here before?" he returned to the moment at the sound of Avalon asking the painter.

"Only a week ago. It's a terrible time," Vincent sighed.

"One could say it's a monstrosity," Avalon glanced at the Doctor and nodded with her head to the painter.

"Come on, we'd better get you home," the Doctor clapped a hand on Vincent's shoulder.

"Where are you staying tonight?"

"What a gentleman," Avalon grinned, "We accept, don't we Doctor?"

"Completely," he agreed and moved to link arms with her, both heading off and leaving a stunned painter and nervous ginger.

Amy smiled at Vincent and quickly hurried to catch up to her friends. Vincent put on his hat and walked after the group, no idea what had just happened.

~ 0 ~

"Dark night, very starry," the Doctor remarked as he looked up at the sky.

Avalon pulled him by the jacket before he crashed into a wall, muttering, "Idiot," as she caught them up to Amy and Vincent.

"It's not much. I live on my own," Vincent was saying to Amy, "But you should be OK for one night. One night."

"We're going to stay with him?" Avalon whispered to the Doctor.

"Until he paints that church."

Vincent entered his cottage first and lighted a lamp, "Watch out," he called to them, "That one's wet!"

"What?" Amy hadn't caught his warning but soon noticed the painting 'Bedroom in Arles' at the doorstep and paused to look at it, letting the others pass by. If she wasn't careful, her eyes might be popping out of her head anytime soon.

"Sorry about the clutter," Vincent was going around the cottage lighting up more lamps, each additional light allowing the trio to see more and more of his artwork, the same artwork that they'd been looking at in the museum.

"Some clutter," the Doctor raised his eyebrows at all the soon-to-be priceless artworks hung around so carelessly.

"I've come to accept the only person who's going to love my paintings is me," Vincent sighed.

"Mm, you may want to revise that sentence," Avalon crossed her arms and nodded back to Amy who was slowly going around the paintings in fascination, "You may have your number one fan right here."

Vincent merely smiled at the comments and headed over to another room, "Coffee, anyone?"

"Not for me, actually," the Doctor followed and was horrified to see Vincent putting down a coffee pitcher on one of his paintings, 'Still Life: Basket with Six Oranges' like it was a simple table, "You know, you should be careful with these. They're..." he winced as Vincent wiped off the coffee stain from the painting with a couple fingers, "...precious."

Vincent scoffed, "Precious to me. Not precious to anyone else."

Avalon cleared her throat as she entered and pulled Amy with her, "Like I said, number one fan," she nodded to Amy.

"They're precious to me!" Amy agreed.

"Well, you're very kind. And kindness is most welcome," Vincent walked out to the main room again and went to sticks of wood around for the wood.

"Right, so, this church, then. Near here, is it?" the Doctor followed him out, Avalon and Amy walking behind him.

"What is it with you and the church?" Vincent gave the alien an odd look.

"Oh, just casually interested in it, you know," the Doctor shrugged.

"Far from casual. Seems to me. you never talk about anything else," Vincent remarked and looked at the gingers, "He's a strange one."

Avalon scoffed, "That is probably the understatement of his life," she smirked at the Doctor who opened his mouth to retaliate but quickly shut it when he figured it was true.

She'd been making a lot of good points about him today it seemed. He'd get her back the next day.

Avalon did a look-over of the room again with a small smile, "I'd ask what you like Vincent but I think it's pretty obvious. Art."

Vincent nodded, "Just a bit, eh?" she nodded and chuckled, "For me, it seems to me there's so much more to the world than the average eye is allowed to see. I believe, if you look hard, there are more wonders in this universe than you could ever have dreamed of."

"You don't have to tell me," the Doctor agreed with a content sigh. He'd seen so many of those wonders and they never seemed to end. There was always something new to see each day.

~ 0 ~

A while later would find the Doctor sitting on a chair listening to Vincent, or rather being forced to listen after the cups of coffee the painter had taken. Vincent was pacing back and forth, passionately talking about his view of art, "It's color. Color that holds the key. I can hear the colors. Listen to them. Every time I step outside, I feel nature is shouting at me. 'Come on. Come and get me. Come on. Come on!" he grabbed the Doctor by the lapels of his jacket and shouted, "'Capture my mystery!'"

"Maybe you've had enough coffee now," the Doctor slowly removed the painter's hands from his jacket, "How about some nice calming tea? Avalon makes good cups of tea, Avalon..." he trailed off when he noticed Avalon, who'd grabbed a chair and placed it across him, was fast asleep.

He frowned and stood up, forgetting the tea, and walked up to the ginger. It seemed like despite the time that passed, Avalon simply could not sleep. He'd even taken custom of taking 'late-night trips' with her because she always ended up coming into the console a couple hours after she and Amy excused themselves for sleep. He had wanted to really look into that, her insomnia, but every time he asked about it Avalon would become irritated and defensive, something that wouldn't help their relationship. He just didn't want to push her. But looking at how easy she fell asleep and in such a poor posture...it seemed like she was on the verge of breaking. He knew it was wrong, and an invasion of privacy, but he wanted and needed to know what was keeping his friend up every single night. Only then he could help her.

"What are you...?" Vincent tilted his head in confusion as the Doctor quietly reached to press his fingers on Avalon's temples.

"Sh!" the Doctor quickly cut the painter off.

But right before he could touch her, Avalon's eyes snapped open with a deep gasp. And, for a split second, the Doctor saw a terrible fear in her eyes. "Avalon," he frowned, even more concerned than he already was, "What's wro-" but a scream of Amy's cut him off.

"Amy!?" Avalon jumped out of her chair, nearly knocking the Doctor down, and ran out the doors with Vincent behind her.

The trio found Amy in the backyard on her knees, struggling to get up. She looked terrified and out of breath, like she'd been running around. Avalon rushed and helped her up, "What happened?"

"I was having a look at the paintings out here when something hit me from behind," Amy put a hand on her back, breathing heavily as she tried calming down.

"It's OK. He's gone now and we're here," the Doctor assured her, unaware of the sudden reaction Vincent was having behind him.

"No!" the painter shouted and backed away.

"Take it easy," the Doctor turned, confused, "Take it easy!"

"What's happening? What's he doing?" Avalon watched Vincent grow more and more frantic.

"I don't know," the Doctor was also watching, displeased when the painter grabbed a large wooden fork.

"Why's he grabbing the big fork?" Avalon frowned.

"I don't know..."

And then Vincent charged towards them.

"But I think I may know why he's coming towards us..." Avalon pulled Amy and the Doctor back as Vincent ran past them.

"Run. Run!" the painter shouted.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's not a bad idea," the Doctor agreed and promptly pushed the two gingers towards the house, "Avalon, Amy, get back. He's having some kind of fit. I'll try to calm him down."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Avalon asked while Amy ran inside the cottage.

"Nope!" the Doctor shrugged then pushed her as well.

With a roll of the eyes, Avalon hurried to where Amy was at the doorway of the house, turning to watch what she suspected wouldn't be a good spectacle.

"Easy, Vincent, easy. Look, look. It's me, it's me, it's me," the Doctor held his hands in front of him as he spoke to Vincent, the painter still frantic over something. "It's the Doctor, look. No one else is here. So, Vincent..."

"Look out!" Vincent pointed.

The Doctor only had time to look over his shoulder before he was thrown to the ground, able to hear a roaring and screams of his companions.

"We can't see anything!" Amy shouted then screamed in terror when a nearby painting was shred to pieces by something.

"What the hell is it?" Avalon looked around at the empty yard. There was clearly something in the yard that none of them except Vincent could see.

"That is a good question," the Doctor scrambled up to his feet and snatched a nearby stick to join Vincent who was fighting, "Let me help you."

"You can see him, too?" Vincent blinked, seeming relieved.

The Doctor started going off in the opposite direction trying to fight the invisible creature with his stick, "Yes. Ish. Well, no. Not really," however there was more roaring and the Doctor found himself being thrown over a table and landing at Vincent's feet.

Vincent looked down, not too surprised, "You couldn't see him?"

"No," the Doctor frowned and stood up again, "Oi!" he called to the creature. He picked up his stick and started fighting again.

Meanwhile, Vincent had walked a bit away from him and apparently hurt the creature enough to make it leave. Avalon and Amy looked at each other with a smile of relief. Of course it turned into amusement when they saw the Doctor still fighting off the creature. Vincent slowly backtracked to the gingers and was about to tell the Doctor it was safe when Avalon wagged a finger and took his fork.

She motioned for him and Amy to stay quiet as she walked to where the Doctor was and promptly poked him on the back with the fork, making the man spin around, and upon seeing the fork aimed at him he dropped the stick and raised his arms, "Don't you ever try to get into my head," Avalon warned and threw the fork to the side.

He winced at being caught and sighed, "I'm sorry, I just...I wanted to help."

"I don't need it," she muttered and turned away.

~ 0 ~

Vincent was drawing a sketch of the invisible creature for the group, sadly over a painting of irises. Once done, he held the canvas to the group and allowed them to see a strange, birdlike creature with a beak and talons and even a bit reptilian.

"OK. OK," the Doctor took the sketch from Vincent and studied it for a moment, "Right. Avalon, Amy, make Mr Van Gogh comfortable. Don't let any invisible monsters in through the front door."

"But it could be outside, waiting," Amy reminded.

"Don't worry, I'll risk it. What's the worst that can happen?"

"Well you could get torn into pieces by a monster you can't see," Avalon pointed out while absently studying her nails.

"Still upset I see," the Doctor sighed.

She looked up and shook her head, "Oh no, this time I'm being quite serious. The creature is invisible and doesn't seem too nice so the odds of being ripped to shreds is like 99.9%."

"Well as long as you're caring for me," the Doctor smirked and made Avalon smile.

"Like it any other way?" she smirked back after a moment.

Amy raised an eyebrow as she crossed her arms and looked between the two with a small smirk, "Did you just flirt?" she'd never been more amused than at that moment when the two went into sputters.

"What!? We-we did n-not...no!" the Doctor shook his head fairly fast.

"I would never!" came Avalon's response as she also shook her head.

And for some reason, the Doctor tool offense to that, "Oh, so you'd never want to flirt with me?"

"Are we really going to argue about this?" Avalon raised an eyebrow, stepping forwards.

The Doctor paused and evaluated his words, finding himself blushing, "Good point," he held up Vincent's sketch and faced the other ginger and painter instead, "I'll be back before you can say, "Where's he got to now?" and he quickly ran off.

Avalon turned to Amy with a big frown, "I hate you," she declared.

Before Amy could answer back, the Doctor returned with a purposely loud voice, "Not that fast!" both gingers flinched and turned to him, "But pretty fast. See you around," he waved and left.

And before Amy could even open her mouth, she was smacked on the arm by her ginger friend, "OW!" she turned to Avalon, "Well that was rude."

"I'm not nice," Avalon casually shrugged and moved away to gaze at more paintings.

And so, while they waited for the Doctor to return, the two gingers lounged around Vincent's cottage, the painter having excused himself for sleep. Just because they apparently wouldn't sleep over a monster didn't mean he had to stay awake too. Amy even found herself taking a nap in the meantime. However, she woke up to find Avalon bright and awake in the kitchen.

"Okay, what are you doing?" Amy asked as Avalon poured herself tea into a cup.

"I think it's pretty obvious," Avalon gestured to her cup in her hands.

"I meant why are you not sleeping?"

"I could ask you the same question," Avalon countered and walked back to the main room, taking a calm sip of her tea.

"I did take a nap," Amy pointed out as she followed Avalon out, "But I woke up. You, on the other hand, didn't sleep a wink. And I'm pretty sure it's not the first night."

"I just have a lot on my mind," Avalon shrugged and sat down on a chair, "Plus, you know me, I tend not to sleep anyways."

"Right, insomnia," Amy agreed and sat across her, "But even then you still managed to sleep. Now you just look..." Avalon stopped her sipping to look up, Amy debating whether or not she should speak about the bags under Avalon's eyes, not to mention the many, many times Avalon nearly fell asleep in broad daylight during their trips through space.

"Look like what?" Avalon raised an eyebrow.

"Just...really sleepy," Amy shortened the story and nervously smiled.

Avalon sighed and swallowed hard. There was no point hiding it around Amy. "There is...something new to my insomnia," she admitted.

"Like what?"

Avalon tapped her fingers on her teacup and swallowed again. She wasn't going to talk about her awful nightmares, but there was something else that had been bothering her lately that she did want to talk about with someone. "My journal," she began as she set her cup on a table nearby.

"What about it?"

"There's a lot of...blank spaces," Avalon sighed, "Pages where I know I've written things but I just can't remember what about."

"How do you know you didn't leave it blank? No offense but that journal is old," Amy shook her head, "Falling apart, almost. There's bound to be some missing pictures and whatnot. They probably fell out.

"This is something more than just worn out pages," Avalon insisted, "Where I've written there are blank lines and I know they had something but...I don't know what. It's driving me crazy!"

"And making you sleep even less," Amy concluded, "We need to talk to the Doctor about this. Maybe he can-"

"No!" Avalon shouted, startling Amy, "I don't want to give him another reason to want to get into my head. He nearly did that to me tonight and I won't have a second go."

"He's just trying to help," Amy shrugged, "I've noticed you've grown closer with each other lately. He really just wants to help. Why won't you accept it? I mean, you always droned on and on about the Doctor-"

Avalon's snort made Amy wince. "Was I the only one, dear Amy?"

"Alright, we both did," Amy amended and continued on with her point. "You always talked about how he was saving planets and people. You idolized him, you loved him for what he did. Why won't you let him save you?"

Avalon leaned against the counter. "I...I'm not used to it. I've always been the one to try and help others - in my own ways of course - when they need me. If I need help, I'd take care of it on my own."

"There's some things you can't take care on your own, Avalon," Amy said, meaning as comfort than a warning.

"Well this one I can," Avalon said with determination. "And I'm asking you as a friend not to mention this to the Doctor, nor to anyone else."

"Fine," Amy sighed. She didn't want to start arguing with Avalon now, but it didn't mean Avalon was off the hook. "But if this starts getting to dangerous roots the deal's off," she warned.

"It won't," Avalon assured and then headed for the doors.

"Where are you going?" Amy quickly followed her.

"To get the Doctor back, duh."

"But he said stay here."

"And listen to Vincent Van Gogh snore?" Avalon shook her head, "I did not travel through space and time to hear more snoring. Dad and Gavin do that all the time," she rolled her eyes and walked out, Amy shrugging and going along with it.

~ 0 ~

As it turned out, not much to Avalon's nor Amy's surprise, the Doctor had a bit of another run-in with the invisible creature while heading out of the TARDIS. He hadn't been too pleased to find both his companions out of Vincent's cottage but was relieved to know the creature hadn't gone after them.

So, they'd returned to Vincent's cottage where Amy had decided to come up with a little surprise for the painter...

The Doctor entered Vincent's room, ignoring the snores of the painter, "Wake, wakey. Rise and shine! Breakfast is served in the courtyard," he headed for the windows and opened them up,"Whoa! What a morning," he clapped his bands and went to get Vincent up, "Come on. And Amy's got a little surprise for you."

Vincent stood at the windows to see his yard covered in sunflowers, Amy sitting at the table while Avalon poured herself tea.

"I thought I'd brighten things up to thank you for saving me last night," Amy called with a bright smile. "I thought you might like, you know, possibly paint them or something? Might be a thought."

Avalon quietly scoffed, "Yea, because covering the man's yard with sunflowers was very subtle."

"Shush," the Doctor scolded as he joined them in the yard, Vincent still up in the room looking at the sunflowers.

"They're not my favorite flower, actually," Vincent was saying to Amy as he studied one close to the window.

That made the trio look up, stunned, "You don't like sunflowers?" Amy was the one to ask.

"No, it's not that I don't like them. I find them complex. Always somewhere between living and dying. Half-human as they turn to the sun. A little disgusting. But, you know, they are a challenge."

"I like poppies," Avalon casually remarked, making the Doctor stiffen. Those had been Lena's favorite flowers as well. "The bright red ones," Avalon continued, "Because, you know..." she poked her hair, making Amy and Vincent laugh, "...it matches."

"Moving on," the Doctor cleared his throat, "There's something I need to show you."

The trio went back into the house where Vincent finally joined them. The Doctor had brought from the TARDIS a printout of the actual creature, and held it to Vincent to make sure it was the same creature they were dealing with. Upon seeing the picture, Vincent fell back on his chair, amazed that it was actually real and not just a figment of his imagination, "That's him. And the eyes. Without mercy."

"This is a creature called the Krafayis," the Doctor began, "They travel in space, they travel as a pack. Scavenging across the universe. Sometimes one of them gets left behind and because they are a brutal race, the others never come back. So, dotted all around the universe are individual, utterly merciless, utterly abandoned Krafayis. And what they do is... Well, kill, until they're killed. Which they usually aren't. Because other creatures can't see them."

"But I can," Vincent looked up.

"Yes. And that's why we are in a unique position today, my friend, to end this reign of terror. So, feeling like painting the church today?"

"Doctor, you may want to explain the reason behind painting church," Avalon sighed as she looked at the confused painter.

"Oh, right," the Doctor caught on and went ahead explain, "Take my word for it Vincent, if you paint the church, the creature will come."

Vincent nodded and stood up, "OK. I'll get my things."

"In your own time. I promise you, we'll be out of your hair by this time tomorrow," the Doctor took his place on the chair as Vincent headed for the doorway, not seeing the hesitation the painter had upon hearing those words. After he finally left, the Doctor let out a sigh, "This is risky."

"Riskier than normal?" Avalon pointed out, "Your life doesn't exactly scream 'safe and sound'."

He rolled his eyes and stood up, glancing back to see if Vincent was still around, "Well, think about it. This is the middle of Vincent Van Gogh's greatest year of painting. If we're not careful, the result of our trip could be the brutal murder of the greatest artist who ever lived. Half the pictures on the wall of the Musee D'Orsay will disappear. And it will be our fault."

~ 0 ~

"Vincent? Vincent!" the Doctor knocked on Vincent's bedroom door.

They'd been waiting for Vincent for quite a while now so the Doctor offered to go and make sure everything was alright. Unfortunately, he saw things were so not right. Vincent laid faced-down on his bed, sobbing.

"Vincent, can I help?" the Doctor slowly approached the man.

"It's so clear you cannot help. And when you leave, and everyone always leaves, I will be left once more with an empty heart and no hope," Vincent rolled back to look at the Doctor.

"My experience is that there is, you know, surprisingly, always hope."

"Then your experience is incomplete," Vincent snapped, "I know how it will end, and it will not end well."

"Come on," the Doctor insisted and clapped Vincent's back, "Come out, let's go outside."

But Vincent exploded into frantic shouts, "Out! You get out. What are you doing here? What are you doing here?"

The Doctor quickly backed away towards the door, "Very well. I'll leave. I'll leave you." And indeed he did leave the sobbing painter, shutting the door behind him.

"What's happening?" Avalon startled him by the stairs, Amy behind her. They'd both heard the shouts coming from the room and decided to go up and see what was happening.

"We're leaving," the Doctor declared as he leaned on the staircase rails, somber, "Everyone knows he's a delicate man. Just months from now he'll...he'll take his own life."

"Don't say that," Amy scowled, "Don't you ever say that."

"C'mon," he ignored them and went down the steps.

"No," Avalon snapped, "I will not leave a man to his death." And before anyone could say more, she quickly entered Vincent's room and shut the door behind her.

"Avalon!" Amy hurried to get her out when the Doctor stopped her, "What are you doing? We can't leave her alone!"

"Just...let's give her a minute," the Doctor offered and looked at the door. He knew that little attitude from Avalon stemmed from her mother's death, and maybe even from Lena's death (even if she couldn't remember it). He had wanted to talk to Avalon about her recent problems with her sleep, theorizing they could also be stemming from those deaths. He wondered if perhaps Vincent could be the one to help...it was a longshot, but...still possible.

~ 0 ~

"I said get out!" Vincent kept crying to Avalon, the ginger standing beside his bed with her arms crossed, pretty adamant about staying, "I just want to be alone!"

"Well tough, because I have quite a temper and when I make a decision no man on earth can make me change it," she declared. She grabbed a chair and put it beside the bed, sitting down and staring at Vincent, "I can relate to you, you know."

Vincent scoffed, "I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity," she said quietly, "I can understand your position quite better than anyone else, even the Doctor himself. It's pretty clear that we're not from this...area," she gestured, "I won't be born for centuries more, on another planet. I live in a small town called Leadworth where everyone knows each other, everyone is friends with each other...except with me," her eyes drifted to the side as she forced herself of her past. Being aboard the TARDIS had given her some time to finally get away from the town but it didn't make all the memories go away. "My name is Avalon Reynolds and if you say you're friends with me, a lot of people in that town will laugh at you."

Vincent sobered up a bit upon seeing the girl tearing up, "Why?" he decided to ask as he sat up.

"I'm not a nice person," Avalon sighed, "I've been in jail several times for, um, robbery, trespassing, being chaotic..." she let out a small, bitter laugh, "...funny thing is, I can't even recall some of those times. I've been in a cell for so many reasons I'm beginning to forget them."

"You don't look like a criminal," Vincent concluded just by looking at the frilly-like clothes Avalon was dressed in.

Avalon scoffed, "That's the image you get when you first see me. And if you live in Leadworth, you'd be one of those people that would be insulted for believing that of me. When I walk out of my house, a lot of people point at me and go 'that's the girl' or 'that's the Reynolds' girl, the criminal'. I get mocked, I get insulted, I get laughed at without even getting the chance to explain myself," she swallowed hard and closed her eyes to stop herself from crying, "Hardly anyone likes me back home. I'm a criminal, I'm the girl all parents want to keep their children from. I got lucky with Amy and Mels, their parents are dead. Their guardians didn't really care much for their safety. I grew up with nothing except my fairytales, much like you with your paintings," she opened her eyes and looked at the paintings hung on the walls with a smile, "Beautiful paintings."

"Seems like only you and your friends think that of them," Vincent sighed.

"Because they are," Avalon clarified, "And I get it, I understand how lonely you feel. You step out and it's the same story, you're pointed at, you're laughed and insulted. I get it. There's nothing to hold onto, not even hope. I don't believe in hope," she confessed, finding it unusually easy to say all these things to the painter, never having experienced someone who understood her so well, "I thought I did but when my mother passed away I stopped. There is no belief that can help us, Vincent. I don't believe in deities or Gods of any sort. Because if you do, you just have rules and expectations from everyone and because you're different you still get laughed at," she shook her head, "Don't cling onto hope, Vincent. You want to feel better? Stick with your paintings. Paint your feelings and only believe in that. Believe in how beautiful they are."

"And what do you do, then?" Vincent wondered, taking her words to heart. It really was true, the belief system only served to get insulted by the others.

"I'm a girl, Vincent," she sheepishly smiled, "I cling to my fairytales. I pretend I'm free like, um, I don't know a butterfly," she blushed, "And I look at the worlds written in stories and try to imagine myself there, try to even imagine a new world for me," she looked at him, now fully embarrassed, "I have this journal, and inside of it...I write the world I'd like to live in. I capture everything I can from this world, everything I find genuinely beautiful and I put it down in my journal. It's my escape, my 'paintings'."

"I'm sure they are beautiful creations," Vincent smiled, reaching to take Avalon's hand, "And in it they must capture all the pain and grief you have."

"Yeah, a lot of them include my mum," Avalon nodded, "She ends up being the Queen or the fairy godmother," she chuckled to herself.

But Vincent grew serious, "I am so sorry for your losses."

"Losses?" Avalon stiffened, "What do you mean? I lost my mum, that was it."

"It's alright," Vincent half-smiled and patted her hand, "I thank you for your help, Avalon. It really is nice to talk to someone who seems to understand. People can be cruel, they judge and hurt when they don't understand someone."

"I know," Avalon nodded, sighing, "And I wish I could say it will get better but 'hope' doesn't change people at all. It's done by action. I left my own home, well, the Doctor took me away, thankfully. Perhaps you could move too."

"I don't plan leaving anytime soon," Vincent shook his head, "But I do plan on helping you and your friends with the monster."

"You will?" Avalon beamed.

"You're right, actions help much better than 'hope'. I'm going to take action and help before the monster kills more innocent people."

"Vincent, thank you!" Avalon stood up and hugged the painter, "I'll go tell the others while you get ready!"

"Alright then," Vincent nodded and so Avalon rushed off.

~ 0 ~

The group walked along the village lane, Amy walking beside Vincent on one side with Avalon on his other side, the Doctor walking behind them all carrying a case in his hand.

"I'm sorry you're so sad," Amy said to Vincent while holding his paint case, Avalon holding the canvas.

"But I'm not. Sometimes these moods torture me for weeks, for months. But I'm good now," Vincent nodded, "If Avalon Reynolds and Amy Pond can soldier on, then so can Vincent Van Gogh."

"Okay, you keep saying that but I still don't understand," Avalon shook her head.

"Yeah, I'm not soldiering on," Amy had to agree, "We're fine."

"I hear the songs of your sadness," Vincent sighed, "You've lost people, I think."

"I'm not sad," Amy repeated and looked at Avalon for help, but Avalon was staring ahead, seemingly lost in thoughts now.

"They why are you crying?" she heard Vincent ask.

She quickly put a finger on her hand and felt the tear on her cheek. She quickly looked at Avalon and found the girl also wearing tears on her face.

Vincent just faintly smiled, "It's all right. I understand."

"But I don't," Avalon frowned as she quickly wiped her face, "One more thing I don't understand."

Neither of them saw the Doctor behind with a grim face. While Amy's subconscious seemed to remember Rory, Avalon seemed to be on the brink of remembering, like all her memories of Lena and Rory were on the surface of her mind. It should be impossible and yet here they were; just one more thing that didn't make sense with Avalon Reynolds.

~ 0 ~

After the Doctor had finished explaining the 'plan' Vincent set up his utensils in front of the church and started painting. They would have to wait for the monster to show up and then the Doctor would apparently deal with it using the case he carried.

But as the time went by...the Doctor grew more...and more...irritating.

Avalon and Amy watched as Vincent finished the outline of the top of the church, the painter beginning to color in the sky. The Doctor paced behind them, rambling away, "I remember watching Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel. Wow! What a whinger. I said to him, "'If you're scared of heights, you shouldn't have taken the job.'"

"Shh!" Amy cut him off with a finger to her lips.

And that worked...for another hour or so...

Vincent had added more details to his painting, trying his best to ignore the Doctor who was standing right behind him, rambling again, "And Picasso. What a ghastly old goat. I kept telling him, 'Concentrate, Pablo, it's one eye, either side of the face.'"

"Be quiet," Avalon sighed wearily.

The Doctor huffed and moved to sit away from the group. And so passed about an hour more or when Vincent was nearly done with the church.

"Is this how time normally passes?" the Doctor whined from his spot on the ground, "Reeeeally slowly. In the right order," he stood up and walked away, "If there's one thing I can't stand, it's an unpunctual alien attack."

"If I didn't know any better I would say you're nervous," Avalon followed him.

"There's something not right and I can't quite put my finger on it."

"Let's see, there's a painter who's not...quite there, and who's being haunted by an invisible creature only he can see. Yeah there's a lot of things that aren't right here."

"There," Vincent cut their conversation short and made them turn back to the church, "He's at the window."

"Where?" the Doctor hurried back.

"There, on the right."

"As I thought. Come on. I'm going in."

"Well, I'm coming, too," Vincent let his painting utensils drop to move to follow the Doctor.

"No," the Doctor quickly stopped him, "You're Vincent Van Gogh. No."

"But you're not armed."

"I am."

"What with?"

"Overconfidence, this," the Doctor tapped his case, "And a small screwdriver. I'm absolutely sorted. Just have to find the right crosactic setting, and stun him with it. Sonic never fails. Anyway, Avalon, Amy, only one thought, one simple instruction - don't follow me under any circumstances."

"I won't," Amy said.

The Doctor looked over at Avalon who innocently looked away, "Avalon?"

"Amy said she wouldn't," Avalon shrugged.

"Avalon I don't have time," the Doctor, in frustration, exclaimed.

"Whatever," Avalon shrugged and motioned for him to go in. The Doctor warningly pointed at her before walking towards the church.

"Will you follow him?" Vincent looked between the two gingers.

"Of course," they both answered.

"I love you," Vincent was fondly looking at Amy.

Avalon laughed, "Before you snog, let's wait for the Doctor to get himself into trouble," she turned to them, "I bet money on this!"

"Five quid?" Amy raised an eyebrow.

"He gets into trouble in less than five minutes!"

"Deal," Amy shook hands with her, both looking back at the church to await the screams.

And in less than five minutes, as predicted by Avalon, they heard the growls of the creature followed by the cries of the Doctor.

Avalon grinned and pointed at Amy, "You owe me!" and she ran off.

"Damn," Amy muttered and quickly ran after her.

"Amy! Avalon!" Vincent ran as well.

~ 0 ~

"Doctor!" Avalon ran into the church, finding the Doctor aiming the screwdriver at air.

"Argh! I thought I told you... Never mind," he shook his head, not even surprised to see Amy catching up, "We'll talk about it later. Quick, in here."

Avalon pulled Amy towards a confessional, cramming into one side while the Doctor hid in the other side. They stayed quiet as they heard the Krafayis moved around the room.

"Absolutely quiet," the Doctor whispered to the women and slid the door over the grill between, "Whoever is breathing like that, breathe quieter!"

"It's Amy," Avalon grumbled.

"I can't help it," Amy defended herself and lifted the curtain on their side, "He's gone past."

"Shh," the Doctor said.

The Krafayis growled and blew the gratting on the ginger's side off, making them scream.

"I think he heard us," the Doctor winced, "Impressive hearing he's got, though."

Avalon winced as another part of the confessional was ripped off, "What's less impressive are our chances of survival," she snapped.

"Hey, are you looking for me, sonny?" Vincent ran into the room with a chair in front of him as a weapon, "Come on. Over here. Because I'm right here waiting for you," as the creature tried to fight him, he looked over to the others, "Come on. Quickly! Get behind me."

As the gingers ran behind Vincent, the Doctor tried using the screwdriver on the creature, "Doing anything?" he asked Vincent who shook his head as a 'no'. They backed away into another part of the church, "Where is he?" the Doctor looked around frantically.

"Where do you think he is, you idiot? Use your head," Vincent snapped.

"Anything?"

"Okay," Avalon pushed the screwdriver down, "I think we've established the fact that screwdrivers are not effective. Maybe it's time for another tactic."

"Like running!" Amy exclaimed.

And so they did manage to split up a little, the Doctor having the usual luck of his to have the creature after him now. Vincent was giving him instructions to avoid the creature's blow, "Duck!" he called and the Doctor went down, "Left!" and then the Doctor was swatted to the side and slammed into a wall, "Oops, right, sorry."

Avalon and Amy went to help the Doctor up while Vincent used his chair to defend them.

"This is no good at all. Run like crazy and regroup," the Doctor suggested as he stood up.

"Oh, come on, in here," Amy led them into another building of the church.

They went into a room and tried closing a large door together, though the Krafayis blocked the way with a leg until Vincent managed to stomp on it and make it jerk it away.

"Right. OK," the Doctor turned on his back as did everyone to keep the door closed, "Here's the plan. Avalon, Amy, Rory, Len-"

"Who?" both gingers looked at him with confusion.

"Sorry, um, Vincent," the Doctor mended.

"What's the plan?" Avalon asked.

"I don't know, actually. But in future, I'm just using this screwdriver for screwing in screws," he quickly put away the screwdriver.

"Best decision of your life," Avalon sighed and earned a mock-glare.

"Give me a second. I'll be back," Vincent said and ran away.

"I suppose we could try talking to him," the Doctor looked back at the door.

"Talking to him?!" Amy blinked.

"Well, yes. Might be interesting to know his side of the story. Yes, though maybe he's not really in the mood for conversation right at this precise moment," the Krafayis growled and banged on the door, "Well, no harm trying. Listen. Listen!" and finally the creature stopped, ''I know you can understand me," he turned to the door, "Even though I know you won't understand why you can understand me. I also know that no-one's talked to you for a pretty long stretch, but please... listen. I also don't belong on this planet. I also am alone. If you trust me, I'm sure we can come to some kind of, you know, understanding. And then, and then, who knows?"

The window across them shattered as the creature found another way in. The trio looked across and watched the objects in the room fly about as the creature moved around.

"Over here, mate!" Vincent returned with a new weapon in his hands, his easel

The trio moved behind the painter, "What's it up to now?" the Doctor asked.

"It's moving round the room. Feeling its way around," Vincent explained as he and the gingers moved behind a sarcophagus.

"What?" the Doctor blinked, now behind a column.

"It's like it's trapped. It's moving round the edges of the room."

"I can't see a thing," Amy shook her head.

"I am really stupid," the Doctor sighed.

"Oh get a grip," Avalon called, "Pick another time to re-evaluate your self-esteem."

"No, I am really stupid and I'm growing old," he shook his head, "Why does it attack, but never eat its victims?" he moved to the sarcophagus, " And why was it abandoned by its pack and left here to die? Why is it feeling its way helplessly around the walls of the room? It can't see, it's blind. That explains why it has such perfect hearing!"

Vincent blinked, "Which unfortunately also explains why it is now turning around and heading straight for us," he stepped forwards and held his easel's sharp ends in front of him as a weapon.

"Vincent. Vincent, what's happening?" the Doctor quickly asked.

"It's charging now. Get back. Get back!"

Vincent ran forwards and impaled the creature with the easel. He held onto the weapon as he was lifted from the air by the creature who was in clear pain and anger. When he let go, he fell to the floor as did t he creature. Vincent sat up and looked at the impaled creature, "He wasn't without mercy at all. He was without sight. I didn't mean that to happen. I only meant to wound it, I never meant to..."

"It's okay," Avalon whispered and helped him up.

The Doctor knelt down beside the body, "He's trying to say something."

"What is it?" Vincent asked.

"I'm having trouble making it out, but I think he's saying, 'I'm afraid. I'm afraid'," the Doctor patted the poor creature, "There, there. It's OK. You'll be fine. Ssh."

"He was frightened…and he lashed out," Vincent sighed, "Like humans, who lash out when they're frightened. Like the villagers who scream at me. Like the children who throw stones at me."

"Sometimes winning - winning is no fun at all," the Doctor muttered and left the place.

~ 0 ~

For some reason, the grassy field seemed more beautiful under the starry sky. Despite the group's loss, the peace of the scenery managed to bring peace to each of them. Vincent decided to stop walking and offered to take Amy's hand so they could sit down. Amy thought it was weird but then again, when was she ever going to get the chance to sit with Vincent Van Gogh? Absolutely never!

The Doctor offered his hand to Avalon but the ginger shook her head at him. "Don't think I've forgotten you tried getting into my head when I was asleep."

The Doctor winced. He had forgotten that bit. He never really apologized with everything that'd happened. "I'm sorry," he offered, hoping it would change her mind and totally not revert their relationship back to what it used to be. And judging by Avalon merely rolling her eyes without saying a word, the chance was getting bigger. "I'm very worried about you, Ava. I would never go into your mind without permission unless I had a huge reason."

"That you're worried?" Avalon scoffed lightly and moved past him, only for him to grab her arm and bring her back. She might have ended up a closer than what he intended on but he wasn't going to let it become a distraction.

Why would it even be a distraction? He suddenly questioned himself. With only a few seconds after, he decided he didn't want to think about the answer.

"Hey, I have a right to be worried when a good friend of mine can't, for the life of her, sleep. I'm sorry, but please don't be angry with me. I don't want to go back to that."

Avalon's expression softened when she realized what he meant. Sometimes he was just too...himself. "Oh Fairy Tale Man, you're being dramatic. I'm upset but it's not the end of the world." Before the Doctor could say something, she took his hand and led them to where Amy and Vincent had laid down. "Comfortable. Mind if we join?"

Vincent patted the empty spots beside them. Avalon smiled at the Doctor as the two found their spots on the mushy grass. They joined their free hands to Amy and Vincent and gazed up at the dark, starry sky.

"Try to see what I see," Vincent softly pleaded them. "We are so lucky we are still alive to see this beautiful world. Look at the sky. It's not dark and black and without character. The black is in fact deep blue. And over there, lighter blue. And blowing through the blueness and the blackness, the wind swirling through the air and then, shining, burning, bursting through - the stars! Can you see how they roar their light? Everywhere we look, the complex magic of nature blazes before our eyes."

"I've seen many things, my friend," the Doctor smiled, "But you're right. Nothing quite as wonderful as the things you see."

"You know the reason I don't like painting as much as writing is because I always thought that a painting only tells you one page of the story..." Avalon paused as she truly focused on the sky like Vincent was, though she doubted she was even half of what he saw, "But I've been looking at it all wrong. It's a whole story in one page."

"I will miss you terribly," Vincent sighed as he looked from the gingers to the alien, knowing that soon they would all be gone again and he would be once more alone.

~ 0 ~

"I only wish I had something of real value to give you," Vincent watched the Doctor hold one of his paintings, Self Portrait with Straw Hat, in the morning.

The Doctor chucked, "Oh, no, no. I could never accept such an extraordinary gift," he set down the painting on a table.

"Very well. You are not the first to decline the offer," Vincent sighed and held his arms for Amy, "Amy, the blessed, the wonderful," they hugged and Amy kissed his cheek.

"Be good to yourself and be kind to yourself," Amy whispered.

"I'll try my best."

"And maybe give the beard a little trim before you next kiss someone," Amy laughed and rubbed her cheek.

"I will. I will. And if you tire of this Doctor and Avalon, return, And we will have children by the dozen."

"Eek!" Amy laughed again.

"Why would she be tired of me?" Avalon pretended to be irritated, "What are you trying to say, Vincent?"

"Goodbye, Avalon," Vincent held his arms for the next ginger instead of answering.

Avalon playfully rolled her eyes, "Smart move, Vincent," she hugged him.

"Thank you for you words of advice," he pulled away.

"Yeah, I'm not sure if they were the best, but...it's what I've been doing," Avalon shrugged.

Vincent patted her shoulders, "I think it's going to get better for you," he smiled as he looked behind her to the Doctor and Amy. But Avalon just scoffed quietly and moved away so the Doctor could bid goodbye to the painter, "Doctor, my friend," Vincent shook the Doctor's hand, "We have fought monsters together and we have won. On my own, I fear I may not do as well," and the two hugged goodbye.

~ 0 ~

As the trio walked away from Vincent's cottage, the Doctor though of an idea that could perhaps make things just a bit better for their painter friend. When he stopped walking, both Avalon and Amy looked back with confusion.

"What are you doing?" Avalon asked.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he smiled.

"No, that's sort of why I just asked what were you doing."

He rolled his eyes and turned back to hurry to the cottage, calling for Vincent as the women caught up, "Vincent!" the painter poked his head out the window without a shirt and a brush in hand, "Got something I'd like to show you. Maybe just tidy yourself up a bit first."

"What are we doing?" Amy whispered but the Doctor waved her off as they waited for Vincent to come out.

Once the Doctor had brought them all back to modern day Paris, things started to get a little more clear...for everyone but Vincent anyways.

"Where are we?" Vincent asked the moment he stepped out of the TARDIS and no longer saw the alleyway in which the box had been in only a couple minutes ago.

"Paris. 2010 AD. And this is the mighty Musee D'Orsay, home to many of the greatest paintings in history," the Doctor nodded to the museum up ahead.

"Oh, that's wonderful," Vincent nodded but was distracted when two boys passed by with an electronic in hands.

"Ignore that. I've got something more important to show you," the Doctor said and pulled the painter towards the museum, the gingers following alongside them.

~ 0 ~

They led Vincent all the way up to his own exhibition, passing by other great painters where Vincent seemed to be staying behind to look at. Amy and Avalon pulled him by the arms and brought him into his exhibition room. Vincent was stunned to see all his paintings hanging on the walls.

The Doctor noticed Dr. Black lecturing a group nearby and walked up to him, "Dr. Black, we met a few days ago. I asked you about the church at Auvers."

Discreetly, the gingers brought Vincent closer to hear the conversation.

"Oh, yes. Glad to be of help. You were nice about my tie," Dr, Black remembered.

"Yes. And today is another cracker if I may say so," the Doctor pointed at the new bow-tie the human wore, "I just wondered, between you and me, in 100 words, where do you think Van Gogh rates in the history of art?"

"Well, big question. But, to me, Van Gogh is the finest painter of them all," Dr, Black got to thinking more thoroughly, "Certainly, the most popular, great painter of all time, the most beloved. His command of color, the most magnificent. He transformed the pain of his tormented life into ecstatic beauty. Pain is easy to portray, but to use your passion and pain to portray the ecstasy and joy and magnificence of our world - no-one had ever done it before. Perhaps no-one ever will again. To my mind, that strange, wild man who roamed the fields of Provence was not only the world's greatest artist, but also one of the greatest men who ever lived."

The Doctor's smile faded when he saw Vincent with red eyes and a face stained of tears. He quickly moved back to the them, giving Vincent a hug, "Vincent. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Is it too much?"

"No. They are tears of joy," Vincent left the group to go to Dr. Black, giving him a Gallic kiss and a hug, "Thank you, sir. Thank you."

"You're welcome. You're welcome," Dr. Black nodded as Vincent pulled away.

"Sorry about the beard," Vincent apologized quietly as he returned back to the trio.

~ 0 ~

The TARDIS materialized back on the field in Vincent's time, Vincent stepping out first of the box, "This changes everything. I'll step out tomorrow with my easel on my back a different man. I still can't believe that one of the haystacks was in the museum. How embarrassing."

"It's been a great adventure and a great honor," the Doctor shook Vincent's hand.

"You've turned out to be the first doctor ever actually to make a difference to my life."

"I'm delighted. I won't ever forget you," the Doctor waved and headed back inside the TARDIS.

"And you are sure marriage is out of the question?" Vincent tried again with Amy, making both she and Avalon laugh.

"This time," Amy moved to hug him, "I'm not really the marrying kind."

"So, I lied," Avalon said as Amy pulled away, "Perhaps there can be hope for some people," she hugged Vincent next.

"That would include you too," Vincent said and pulled away.

"Yeah, not for me," Avalon shook his head, "It's completely out of the market for me."

"No, but you are free," he pointed out, "In there," he nodded to the TARDIS, "Free as a bird...or, butterfly," he whispered and made her laugh.

"Goodbye, Vincent," she waved and moved into the TARDIS with Amy, Amy requesting to go back to the gallery for one more look.

~ 0 ~

As soon as the TARDIS materialized back at the museum, Amy running out, heavily excited, "Time can be re-written. I know it can. Come on!"

Avalon shrugged and went to follow her friend, neither noticing the indulgent face the Doctor had behind.

"Oh, the long life of Vincent Van Gogh. There'll be hundreds of new paintings," Amy cheered as she ran up the stairs.

"I'm not sure there will," the Doctor said calmly.

"Come on!" Amy entered the exhibit and looked at the paintings on the walls, finding them to be the same ones and the only ones around.

"We have here the last work of Vincent Van Gogh, who committed suicide at only 37..." Dr. Black's voice carried over as if on cue.

Amy closed her eyes, her excitement gone. Avalon stepped up and gave her a hug, "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"So, you were right," Amy looked back at the Doctor as the hug ended, "No new paintings. We didn't make a difference at all."

"I wouldn't say that," the Doctor shook his head, "The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. Hey," he hugged her, "The good things don't always soften the bad things. But, vice versa - the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things or make them unimportant," he ended the hug but held her head, "And we definitely added to his pile of good things."

"I suppose..." Amy smiled a little then noticed Avalon was missing, "...Avalon?" she looked around.

Avalon had gone to the painting of the church and looked back at the call of her name, "Hm? Oh sorry, I was just looking at the difference we made for Vincent," she pointed at the church with a smile, "I think we did good, come and look."

The Doctor took Amy over to the painting and indeed noticed the change they had made to the painting.

"No Krafayis," Amy breathed with joy.

"Exactly," Avalon grinned.

Amy moved away from the pair and walked to the center, noticing something ahead of her, a small alcove displaying two paintings. She started walking towards it without a word. The Doctor saw and pulled Avalon behind.

Amy saw the painting of the 'Still Life: Vase With Twelve Sunflowers' with a small signature on the vase dedicating it to her, "Oh my..." she smiled and looked at the next painting.

"That's not..." Avalon blinked, moving to the painting, "...it can't be," she was looking at the painting of "Still Life:Poppies and Butterflies" which bore a signature dedicating it to her, just like it had been for Amy.

"Seems like other differences had been made," the Doctor remarked as he eyed both paintings.

"I don't like paintings..." Avalon smiled at the brilliant red poppies, "...but I do like this one."

"Your hair does match them," Amy teased through her tears.

Avalon chuckled, "Says the mother of an ultimate ginge with Vincent Van Gogh," she countered and moved to hug her.

The Doctor watched them with a small smile and suddenly found himself being pulled into the hug by both, "Okay," was all he had to say and hugged them both, hearing their muffled laughter.

[softboywriting]

Falling Stars | Shawn Mendes AU

Summary: Shawn is the new doctor in your small town. You are the owner of the bookshop across the street from his clinic. The two of you hit it off immediately and thus begins a relationship that is everything you’ve ever dreamed of. [mild nsfw portion] 

Word Count: 26k

| Masterlist in bio |

The lights of Falling Stars second hand book shop flicker to life in the slowest way possible. The single bulb hanging lamps are nearly as old as the building itself so it doesn't surprise you when sometimes they take two minutes or more to come up to full brightness. The early morning sun illuminates the books in a way you will never get used to. There's something so magical about the way the light warms the old wooden shelves, glinting off golden lettered book spines. The smell of cinnamon wafts through the air and you smile at your little table display front and center of the room. It has little pumpkins and fake orange and red leaves surrounding them with cinnamon sticks tucked into decorative vases that you dressed up with ribbon and little pinecones. A few stacks of books with autumnal themed titles sit around the display pieces. It is the epitome of Autumn and you couldn't be happier.

You flip the sign on the door over to OPEN and head to the checkout counter. A large black cat jumps up on the counter and lets out a soft meow, begging for your attention. It's Alice, the shop mascot and your beloved companion. She had wandered in the back door a few years ago and never bothered to leave. You suspect she may have belonged to the old woman who rented the apartment above the hardware store next door before she passed away. She never showed interest in following you up to your apartment above the bookshop, so you left her food and water with a homemade sweater bed near the utility closet.

“Good morning Alice,” you mutter softly as she headbutts your hand. “Are you hungry?”

Alice meows loudly. Of course she was hungry. What a silly question. She'd only been alone all night, stalking mice in the backroom and misplacing her stuffed toys you made her. Alice jumps down with a loud thump and leads you to her food dish. You supply her with a single scoop and she looks up at you in disdain. How foolish of you, thinking she would get full on one measly scoop. You scoop just a tiny bit more, not even enough to cover the bottom of the scoop, and sprinkle it on top. This satisfies her and she dismisses you, sticking her face in the dish and you turn away to go about opening up shop.

A few minutes later and you've got your register set up, money in it from the safe, and a fresh apple scented candle lit beside your computer. It's time to start your day. You pull up your stool and take a seat to check emails and online orders that are ready to ship. Online is most of your business, though you have your regular customers, shoppers who come from the city to find books not available in the major bookstores anymore and of course people who stop by on their way through town.

You see an email from one of your book suppliers, Dakota Press, and it says your book delivery will be arriving late. A delivery van broke down so they're behind schedule. No big deal. You never announce your new books until you had them physically on hand just for that exact reason. You open a few more emails, customers requesting books that were marked out of stock but you can order from Dakota Press. You take note to order them, adding the customers to your special order list and opening emails from customers searching for particular books they haven’t been able to locate online or in stores.

The bell over the shop door jingles and you look up to see a tall man walk in. He's about your age, maybe a year or two older. Definitely not someone you've seen before. Your first thought is tourist, someone just passing through, but he's too well dressed to be an average dad on a road trip and he was definitely not a fisherman from the harbour. His button down shirt is clearly starched and pressed, and those pants are tailored to fit. His shoes look to be out of a high end store, the watch on his wrist is probably worth your bills for three months and his hair is carefully styled and his skin is glowing. He was something else... something else with money.

“Hello, welcome to Falling Stars!” You cheer from behind the counter. You slide off your stool and fix your sweater so it covers the top of your leggings a bit better. You really wish you'd worn a better pair than your old black cable knit ones, but oh well. Hindsight is 20/20 right?

“Hello. This place is really lovely,” the man says with a gentle smile. Heartwarming. Kind. His eyes said it all as you approach him.

“Thank you so much, I try to keep the place nice. It is a very old building though, it has it’s problems.”

“No no, it's beautiful. I love it. It's very homey and warm. It has character,” he says as he browses the romantic fiction shelf near the doors.

Alice appears and winds around his legs, depositing a lovely clump of loose hair on the ankle of his pants. “Oh crap, Alice no,” you mutter, leaning down and grabbing the hair ball. When you stand back up, the man is beaming at you, a playful smile on the edge of a laugh.

“You didn't have to do that, I don't mind a little cat hair. Cute little thing probably thinks I smell weird.”

“Oh no, she knows better than to rub on people. I don't think you smell at all.” You turn scarlet as you realize what you've said. He did smell quite good, like an expensive cologne you smelled once in a department store. Not that you meant it like that. “I-I am so sorry, I mean like you don't smell weird? Like no, you smell good but not that I noticed that you smell like anything. I just-”

The guy bursts out laughing, eyes crinkling and head thrown back. God he's a sight to behold. His whole aura is brighter than the sun streaming in the front windows. “I understand what you mean but thank you, I try not to smell,” he manages through continued spouts of laughter until he's left smiling at your red cheeked face.

“So, um, are you looking for anything in particular?” You ask, trying your best to slip into business mode and out of awkward flirting mode. Things like this was why you are single, and you know it.

“Actually, I'm just looking for something to read between patients. I've just started at the clinic across the street,” he says as he points to the West Finch Clinic sign on the brick building across the road. It was owned by Dr. Finch for ages and he since retired in February and put the practice up for sale.

“Oh! You're the new doctor!” You exclaim excitedly. It explained his appearance, the well kept polished look and high end clothing and accessories.  

“Mhmm. I decided to leave the city, needed a change of pace.” He grabs a book and turns it over in his hands. “I think this one will do.”

“Of course, I'll get you at the counter.”

You hurry around the display table and punch in your lock code on the register. The man strolls up and lays the book down and you punch in the cost you have labeled on the back. He leans against the counter on his forearms and stares at the wall mounted shelf behind you. It's where you keep your homemade lotions and balms and things of that sort along with a few of your favorite stones and crystals.

“Do you make those?” He asks, pointing at the shelves.

You glance back and smile. “Yes, they're really good for all sorts of skin ailments. Though I suppose you might not believe in homeopathic remedies?”

He laughs and nods. “I do actually, medicine is one option but it's not always the right one. Many natural remedies are proven to work just as well if not better than man made ones. Can I see the lemon hand balm?”

“Of course.” You grab a tin off the shelf and place it on the counter. “It's six dollars but since you got a book I'll only charge you five.”

He pops the lid off and smells it, eyes closed as he smiles. “Sold. I need something to keep my hands soft. Washing and sanitizing so much makes them so dry.” He pushes the tin toward you and you place it in the little brown sack you're putting his book in.

“Your total is fourteen fifty three. Cash or card?”

“Card,” he says, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and passing you a black credit card. You glance at the name and then to him with a smile. It wasn't until that moment you realized you hadn't gotten his name yet.

“Thank you, Dr. Mendes,” you grin as you slide his card across the registers reader.

“Just Shawn is fine. Dr. Mendes makes me feel so old,” he chuckles, taking his card back.

You lean on the counter and prop your head up on your hand. “Well, Shaaawwnnn, I put a flyer in your bag with my hours, email address and phone number. I mean, not mine, but the shop’s. I guess that's sort of mine though...” You drop your head and realize you've blabbered again. And why did you draw his name out all weird like that? You really need to get your shit together.

“Thank you,” Shawn smiles softly and grabs his bag. “I'll see you around?”

“Yeah, don't see a stranger. Fuck. Don't be a stranger, see you around.”

Shawn laughs as he waves goodbye. You watch as he jogs across the street to avoid a Mrs. Jensen's red truck as she drives to work, waving at the store on her way. She was a regular customer of yours and a good friend. You sink down onto your stool and drop your head on the counter.

“Alice, why am I so dumb?” you groan and Alice appears from the back room and meows softly. “Yes I am. I am dumb. It's like when I see a guy I'm attracted to, my brain short circuits.”

Alice winds around the stool legs, purring and headbutting your feet. Some days you really think she is listening to you, others you're sure she just doesn't care. Today she seemed to listen, and for that you're thankful.

“I should just be myself right? If guys don't like it then they can lump it. That's what Grandma would say.”

Alice meows and jumps up on the counter to headbutt your head.

“Who needs guys anyway. I got you, and you're way better than any silly doctor with soft eyes and big hands and...” You groan, petting Alice's back and she flops on her side. “I'm totally screwed.”

_____________________

A week later you wake up to the sound of rumbling thunder and your windows rattling and you sit up, disgruntled from being woken out of a deep sleep. Your bedroom is dark save for your alarm clock that's flashing the wrong time. The power must have gone out at some point. You pull your blankets back and get out of bed just as thunder shakes your apartment to its core. Below you, you can hear something crash and you jump. The damn bookcase that leans forward funny must have fallen over.

You grab a jacket and shove your feet into your old bear feet shaped slippers, a gift from your grandma before she passed, and head for the front door to the stairs. As you make your way down the dark staircase to the door that went outside you can see it rattling, the old glass panel at the top holding on for dear life. The floor is wet, rain leaking in under the door.

You forgo the water for now, the old cement foundation will just absorb it over time. The wind nearly knocks you over as you walk the few feet to the shop door. Rain pelts you like icy gravel and you struggle to get the already notoriously sticky lock open. Once inside, you're soaked,  and dripping all over, but you can't bothered. The bookcase has in fact fallen over and it's taken out your table display as well. The shop is a mess and you sigh, knowing this will take all day to clean up.

Alice runs out of the back, slinking low to the ground as she makes her way to you. The bookcase must have scared her pretty badly. You pick her up and rub her ears.

“It's okay Alice. If you would come upstairs with me, you probably wouldn't be so scared,” you sigh, carrying her to her bed in the cramped utility room and setting her down as you sit beside it.

You decide to lay beside her as you pet her back slowly until she rolls on her side and relaxes. The rain makes you sleepy and you find yourself falling asleep spooned against Alice on the floor. It wouldn't be the first time you did this during a storm, but it would be the first time someone found you like that.

“Hello?” A voice calls from the front of the shop. You sit up, looking around and realizing you're in the utility room with Alice. Not your bedroom.

“I'll be right there!” you call out, jumping up and pulling your hair back in a ponytail on your wrist. You step over a fallen broom and look around the shop. No one seems to be there but, oh wait, there they are. Crouched in front of your broken table is Shawn, picking up little broken pieces of the cinnamon sticks from the vases.

“Oh you are here. Are you alright?” Shawn asks, standing and bringing the vase and stick pieces to the counter.

“Yes, I'm okay. The bookshelf just fell and hit the table. It's a mess but it's fine.” You sigh, looking over the mess before you. “I must have left the door unlocked.”

“Were you sleeping?” Shawn chuckles, taking in your rumpled clothes and bear slippers.

“I...I was just just looking for a broom in the back. I came down to check on the shop because I heard the bookcase fall...I didn't think about getting dressed.” You look down at your polka dotted sleep pants and old yellow summer camp tee from when you were a counselor one summer.

Shawn looks over at the mess and raises his eyebrows. “Do you need a hand? I don't open the clinic for another hour or so.”

“No! No I got it! Don't worry about it. It's not the first time that old shelf has fallen. You go get ready for work okay? I'm good. Thank you though.”

“You're sure? I mean I can stay...”

You put your hands up and wave him away. “I'm sure. Please, go do your doctor stuff. I'll clean up.”

Shawn steps over some books as you walk him to the door. He opens his mouth to say something but all he manages to get out is that you should be careful cleaning up the glass. You make a shushing noise and send him out into the rain. There was no way you were letting him stick around and help. It would just give you too much room to say something stupid and make him disappear forever. You weren't taking that chance.

Four hours later and the shop was back in order, save for the broken display table. The bookcase is propped up, books stacked beside it for the time being. You were debating getting a new shelf or finding a way to anchor that one. But for now you've parked yourself at the counter with a bottle of super glue and a pile of broken vases.

It's nearly half past eleven when the door jingles and Frank walks in with an arm full of books. Frank often brought books he found in yard sales and estate sales. He never wanted money for them, just some peppermint lotion for his wife and a tin of wintergreen hand salve for his old hands.

“Afternoon, Frank. What do you have today?” You grin, pushing aside your half built vase. Frank's books were like getting Christmas presents. Some were just the thing you wanted, others were the equivalent of a pair of underwear that you neither wanted or needed.

“I got some goodins!” Frank laughs, setting five books down for you. “I have an old Winnie the Pooh, a copy of a book called Taming Wolves, and a couple of old westerns.”

“Ohh, Taming Wolves eh?” You laugh, flipping the book over. It was a documentary book, a diary of sorts by a researcher in Alaska named Barry Dunes. Interesting.

“It's real good. I read a few pages myself.”

“Looks good, and this Winnie the Pooh is in great condition for its age. You outdid yourself Frank.”

Frank beams.

“I suppose you need some salve? Lemon or wintergreen this time?”

“Lemon please. Say, what happened to your little table out here?” He asks, looking around the very empty front area.

You place the salve in a bag for him with a little bottle of lotion you know his wife will need. “The bookcase fell again. I need to get a new one that isn't so damaged on the bottom.”

“I'll tell you what. I'll make you a new bookcase and a table, if you give me four tins of the mint salve and a large lotion for Annie.”

“Frank, that's hardly enough. I don't want you to go through all the trouble.”

Frank waves you off. “I'm dying to get back in my wood shed. It'll be my treat, might take a few days but I'll make it so sturdy a hurricane couldn't bring it down!”

You smile softly, shaking your head as you hand him his bag. “Alright, but I'll owe you, any time you need something just stop by. You don't even have bring books.”

“I'll still bring books kiddo, you know I love how it makes you smile brighter than the sun when I get something you really like. I'll be by in a few days, keep an eye out for my truck okay?” Frank says as he tucks his bag into his front overall pocket. “Be good now Alice,” he says with a wink at Alice who's laying in the window seat on his way out.

You can't help but smile as Frank walks down the street. It was nice to feel so loved and have friends like Frank. You really don't know what you would have done if he hadn't showed up, the bookcase would probably just have to be removed. It was so battered from the fall, it wasn't stable enough to use anymore. Thank goodness for little miracles.

_____________________

It's early evening a few days later and you're getting ready to close up and go to the store for some groceries. You've shut down the register, locked up the back and put the money in the safe. Everything is golden, things are looking up from the beginning of the week, and you couldn't be more content...until you grab your glued together vase a bit harshly and a piece collapses, poking right into your hand.

The pain is instant and you drop the vase on the counter. A small chunk of red glass is sticking out of your hand, bleeding down your palm. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. In a moment of panic, you freeze, looking around for something to stop the bleeding but finding nothing but tissues. The glass is in pretty deep and at a weird angle so you're scared to pull it out.

Across the street Shawn steps out of the clinic and you see him lock up, waving goodbye to his receptionist as she drives past. Immediately you hurry for the door and open it, eyes wide as you walk briskly across the road, holding your hand out in front of you.

“Shawn! Shawn!” You call out, voice trembling.

Shawn turns around and sees your hand. “Hey, I was just- Oh! Okay, keep it up, let's get inside,” he says calmly as he unlocks the door.

You follow him inside and to a small patient room. He puts on gloves and leads you to the sink, turning the water on and having you keep your hand under it while he inspects the glass.

“This is from one of the vases isn't it?” He asks with a little smile. “Didn't I say be careful?”

“It slipped, or I grabbed it too hard, I don't know what happened. I just grabbed it and suddenly it collapsed and the shard was in my hand.” You look at the chunk sticking out and Shawn grabs a pair of tweezers from a drawer and unwraps them from their sterile baggy before leading you to the exam table where you take a seat while he plops down on his rolling stool. “This is gonna hurt isn't it?”

“A little bit. Don't worry.” Shawn holds your hand palm up in his and pulls the glass out. You wince. It bleeds a bit more and Shawn works quickly to get it cleaned up and bandaged. He so focused as he wipes your hand down with alcohol and puts on a gauze pad that he wraps with tape. A little curl falls on his forehead and you can't help but stare at it. It's so cute and he's so hot the way he works so seriously. Your heart flutters when his face eases into a smile as he finishes taping your hand and looks up at you.

“Thank you. I probably could have taken care of it but I just panicked. I'm sorry I kept you from going home,” you mumble, dropping your hand to the side and sliding off the exam table.

“It's no problem. It's not like I've got much going on at home anyway,” Shawn chuckles. He peels his gloves off and tosses them as he begins cleaning up and sanitizing the counter.

“You're single then? A guy like you? No way,” you tease, leaning against the wall and he looks over with a small smile. “You're not joking?”

“Nope,” he laughs as he scrubs his hands and forearms. “I haven't really tried getting into the dating scene here in town.”

You let out a chuckle and look out the door into the empty lobby. The rain looks like its coming back, the sky looks gray and overcast. “I don't know how much of a dating scene there really is here. I haven't been out in years.”

Shawn dries his hands on some paper towels from the dispenser by your head. “Not big on dating either?”

“No, not really,” you shake your head.

“Well that makes two of us. Come on, let me walk you home.”

“I live just across the street,” you chuckle and he shrugs.

He walks you out of the clinic and across the empty street. A small whirlwind of leaves blows across your path and he catches a big oak leaf that is burnt orange and hands it to you. “For your display, I noticed it was temporarily on the counter yesterday. It was missing some leaves,” he smiles, beaming down at you like the sun and you take it, biting your lip bashfully.

“Thank you, I didn't even realize you had stopped in again,” you mutter, twirling the leaf in your fingers.

“You were busy helping a couple people. I didn't want to bother you.”

“Oh, that's okay, you can always talk to me anytime.” Shawn continues to smile warmly and your cheeks heat up. “Well anyway, I should probably get going. I need to get some groceries still. Alice will think she's dying if I don't have food for her in the morning.”

“Of course,” Shawn says softly, laying his hand on your arm. “Don't use that hand too much alright? It needs to rest so the skin heals. You should pick up some gauze or large bandaids too, you're going to want to replace it in a few hours, okay?”

“Yes doctor,” you laugh and he shakes head. “I promise I'll be careful and get some gauze.” You pull your phone out and add gauze and tape to your grocery list, then turn it around for him to see. “Got it locked in.”

Shawn grabs your phone and types something before giving it back. “That's my cell number. In case you need anything.”

“O-oh.” You glance at your phone and back up at him. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Shawn grins, rubbing his neck nervously. “I'll see you tomorrow then?”

“Mmm, maybe. Do you need a book?”

“I am almost finished with the one I got...maybe I could stop in before I open the clinic.”

You duck your head and giggle. “Tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow,” he says, laying his hand on your elbow and giving your arm a gentle squeeze before he crosses the street and heads to his Jeep that's parked in the alley between the clinic and the bakery.

You dig in your sweater pocket and lock the shop up before going in to your place to get your shopping bags. The moment you close the door to your living room you let out a squeal. You can’t believe you got the cell number of the finest man you have ever seen. God and the way he kept touching your arm...you were a goner.

_____________________

“So you're telling me a sexy young doctor moved into the West Finch Clinic and has the hots for you?” Nani, your best friend, laughs in disbelief.

“Yes! It sounds insane, I know. I mean maybe I'm reading too far into it but the way he smiled at me and touched my arm after bandaging my hand up...ugh, you would be dying.”

Nani adjusts her laptop so she can lay down and still see you in the Skype window. “Have you made a move yet? Did you flirt back?”

“I think so?”

“You think so? Either you did or didn't. Tell me everything! I swear if you mess it up with a hot doctor I'll book a flight out of here just to beat your ass.”

You roll your eyes. “You are not leaving this close to your wedding date. Your mother would skin you alive. Besides isn't a flight from the Philippines like seventeen hours or something?”

Nani groans. “How are you always right? Ugh, I hate it. Why did I have to go home to get married?”

“Because you wanted your family to be there?”

“Ugh. Family. Whatever, enough about me. I need to know more about your plans for Dr. Sexy.”

You laugh and flop over on your bed, grabbing your sequined pillow and curling around it. “His name is Shawn, if you must know. I know he's single, and I think he came from the city. Not sure why though...who wants to move here?”

“You aren't wrong about that. Roselake is pretty boring. I mean, it was nice growing up there part of the years but there isn't much to do.”

“I know. It makes me think he probably didn't know what he was getting into when he bought Finch's practice. He'll probably get so bored he'll go back to the city.”

“Not if he has a cute book nerd to stick around for,” Nani waggles her eyebrows at you.

“Oh shut up! He is probably just so friendly because he hasn't explored the town yet. There are far cuter girls around here. Don't you remember Millie Green? I bet he'd drop dead if he came across her.”

“Millie Green is a snakey little tart. Don't tear yourself down like that, don't compare yourself to the likes of Millie. You're very cute too, now you've grown into your body and lost those doofy glasses.”

“Hey!”

“I'm right and you know it!” Nani looks off screen to someone and back to you. “Erik is ready to go pick out flowers. I gotta go. You better step up your flirting game. At least make casual conversation and see where it goes.”

“Ugh, fine. It's your fault if I make an idiot out of myself.”

“You'll be fine. Pinky swear you will ask him why he moved to Roselake,” Nani says holding her pinky out to the camera. You hold yours up and hook it in the air, promising you'll make an attempt to talk to Shawn. What could casual conversation hurt?

_____________________

You pull your shoes on and a sweater over leggings again, glance in the mirror and decide it's as good as any outfit. Comfort over style your grandma always said. She was always right. You grab a bagel and a little pack of cream cheese. It's one of those mini sample cups that stores have near the bagel case. You like to take as many as you can so you never have to shell out for cream cheese. You head for the front door and as soon as you're out the lower door, you see Shawn milling around outside the shop.

“Morning,” he grins big, giving you a little wave. “I guess I'm early huh?”

“A little bit.” You hand him your cream cheese and bite the bagel to hold it as you unlock the front door to Falling Stars.

Shawn follows you inside and Alice nearly trips him, yowling because she wants breakfast. “Easy,” he laughs, lifting her up on the counter. “You have to talk to your mom about food. Not me.”

Alice meows, staring at him. You go around and place your bagel on the register while you scoop Alice's food. At the sound of kibble tinkling in her bowl, she comes running.

“So, what can I do for you Shawn?” You ask cheerily as you walk up to the counter and start preparing your bagel.

“Well,” he starts, leaning against the counter. He's wearing a dark blue cardigan over a soft grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up and it makes you wanna combust. He looks so good in such a simple but cozy way. “I was thinking about how you said you weren't much into dating and neither am I, and so I was wondering if you'd like to join me in seeing the town?”

“Like a date or...” You trail off, dropping your bagel, cheese first onto the register.

“Just as acquaintances. If that's okay. I haven't really talked to anyone else besides a few patients and they're a little wary of me. I thought maybe you might be able to help introduce me to the town...”

“Sure, of course. Yeah, anytime.”

Shawn looks at your bagel and raises his eyebrows. “Wednesday?”

“I'm totally free Wednesdays. Totally free all the time really but anyway,” you laugh nervously, peeling your breakfast off the register keys.

“Oh man, that is a mess,” Shawn chuckles.

“It's no biggie. I have wet wipes around here somewhere.” You glance around the cubbies under the counter, running a hand over your hair to push back some fly aways. “Anyway, Wednesday is great. I'll show you all the best parts of Roselake.”

“Excellent. See you then,” Shawn says, slapping the counter like a drum before backing away to go to the door. Looks like you're not the only awkward one. “Oh, by the way, your hair looks nice today, but you got some cream cheese in it.”

Your hands fly to your hair and sure enough you smeared some after picking it up off the register. Shawn laughs as he closes the door behind him, flipping the sign to OPEN as he leaves. You stare at your bagel and smile. You landed a date with a doctor. Well, not a real date, but basically a date. Nani was gonna flip out.

_____________________

Wednesday comes before you know it and you're a nervous wreck as you close up the shop and go upstairs to change clothes. You have to keep reminding yourself that it's not a date. It's not. You put on a pair of jeans and a sweater, boots and a slouchy beanie hat. Nothing fancy. Not date clothes.

Shawn is waiting for you outside the shop. He has on the same dark blue cardigan as he did the other day, with black jeans and instead of a button up shirt he has on a soft well worn t-shirt. He looks as good as always, but a little extra today maybe. A little more relaxed, cozy, warm like his eyes. You can't help but smile and he smiles right back.

“You look great, I like your boots,” Shawn says as you get close. You look down at your feet and it's just your regular brown boots with the leg warmers sticking out of the top.

“Thanks, they're my favorite pair,” you giggle and kick your foot out a little. “Oldies but goodies.”

Shawn just beams. It kills you the way he looks at you like that. The way his face says a thousand words but you can't quite make out any of them. He seemed to find you endearing, but maybe you've mistaken that for politeness. You never were great at reading people, too many times you'd been wrong and you weren't about to say something now and ruin whatever you were building here.

“Where to first?” Shawn asks. He opens the passenger side door of his Jeep for you and stands by it, hand out for you. “I'm not sure where anything is around here. I haven’t done a lot of exploring.”

You step down off the curb, taking Shawn's offered hand for balance, though you don't actually need it. “I think we should go to the shore. There is a memorial there about how Roselake was founded.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Twenty minutes later and you're at the shore of the harbour that provided much of Roselake’s economy. Shawn got lost twice, turning left instead of right because he was too focused on the story you were telling him about how you adopted Alice. It's cute, how he gets so lost in your words. You can't remember the last time a guy listened so wholeheartedly.

You step out of the Jeep and Shawn meets you on your side and you lead him to the small historical plaque that contained the story of Roselake. The story goes that the harbour was once a large pocket of ocean water that got called a “lake” and was found by Edward Jenkins Rose nearly a hundred years ago. The town didn't get built until about fifty years later when there was a massive storm and flooding that deteriorated the strip of land between the ocean and the “lake” and opened it up to be a harbour. The area became a quick transfer route for many fishing and cargo companies because they no longer had to dock several miles up the coast and freight their goods out of the way to the plants in the city a few miles away from Roselake.

“So Roselake wasn't even actually a lake?” Shawn laughs and you nod. “I guess they didn't know what else to call it, even though it was clearly salt water?”

“Yep. So Roselake should probably be called Rose Harbour but no one is going to bother changing that after a hundred years.” You lean on the railing of the outlook and sigh softly.

Shawn leans next to you, his arm bumping yours. It makes your heart race. Being so out of touch with another person had taken its toll on you to the point where a simple brush of arms was exciting. Sad. “What's up? Why the heavy sigh? We're supposed to be having fun.”

“It's nothing, I was just thinking.” You look out at a ship that is pulling in to dock. Everyone you knew was from Roselake, no one came to live here. Who came to live in a fishing town? “Why did you come here? Why leave the city?” you find yourself asking, not really meaning to, but it comes out anyway.

“I hated it.” You glance over, surprised at that answer. “I grew up in Davenport, one of the city’s suburbs, and it just...it made me feel trapped. I went to college to become a general practitioner and while doing my residency in a local hospital since they were the only available training outlet, I saw so much violence and trauma, I don't know how I survived.” He chuckles deprecatingly, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno how I became a doctor sometimes.”

“Wow,” you mutter, not having expected such a heavy response.

“I spent almost a year on the staff of the hospital I did residency in before deciding I couldn't take it. For a while I thought I was going to have to throw it all away for nothing. I thought I couldn't handle being a doctor, that I'd have to suck it up or find a new profession.” Shawn lets out a heavy sigh and leans over the railing as he continues. “A friend told me about how his dad used to run a family practice in small town, and how it was so quiet and nice. I thought that would be perfect, that I could still do what I loved with helping people but on a smaller scale like I really wanted. So I looked for practices for sale or ones looking for partners, and that's how I found West Finch.”

“Oh, that’s quite a journey,” you mutter, looking over at him. He smiles, soft and warm. You look away, back to the sun setting on the ships in the harbour.

“I shouldn't have unloaded like that. I'm so sorry. I guess...I guess I just felt comfortable enough to tell you,” Shawn chuckles nervously.

“No, it's okay. I asked. I'm glad you feel comfortable with me, it's nice to feel like you have a friend.”

“Yeah. You're the first person I’ve really talked to. You’re actually the first person I met.”

You push off the railing and cross your arms. “No way. I am not the first person you met. The town may be small but it’s not that small.”

Shawn laughs, turning around and hopping up to sit on the railing. “You were. I mean, I met the realtor that showed me my apartment and the clinic, but she doesn't count.”

“Oh come on. You didn't run into someone in your apartment building or like at the grocery store?”

“Nope, not a single person talked to me more than doing their jobs. It's like they knew I was some weird outsider,” he chuckles with a soft sigh. “I'm not weird am I?”

“Maybe a little bit,” you tease with a smile, walking down the path, running your hand along the railing. “But I guess maybe I’m kind of weird too, so it's relative.”

Shawn hops down and walks over to you, smiling as he shakes his head. “Oh come on, you're not weird at all. In fact, you're the most normal person I've met here so far.”

You roll your eyes. “Says the guy who hasn’t met very many people here yet. Anyway, let's get going. Are you hungry? There's a place not far from here that has the best shrimp alfredo, it’s kind of a local hang out.”

“Are you trying to steal my heart?” Shawn laughs as you get into the Jeep. “Shrimp is my ultimate weakness.”

“What, no way, me too! I could eat shrimp all day long!”

Shawn starts the Jeep and backs out of the parking area. “Lead the way, and it's my treat. We'll eat shrimp until we explode.”

“Deal, but I might eat so much that you’re broke.”

“I hardly doubt that, but if I eat more than you, you have to tell me your story of Roselake.”

You look over and he's grinning. You agree to his challenge, knowing he would probably win anyways. You didn't mind though, it wasn't as if you had that crazy of a life story or anything. You just want to play along, to see this fun side of Shawn, to see who he is beneath his cool doctor exterior.

_____________________

Somehow you find yourself sitting in the back of Cap’n Clark's Bar and Grill with six jumbo shrimp sticking out or your mouth like some kind of sea monster while Shawn turns purple laughing. He's holding onto the table for dear life, leaned over on his arms just crying every time he glances at you.  His laughter gets the best of you and you have to remove the shrimp because you are laughing too hard, turning a similar shade of purple.

Shawn ended up eating more than you, like you figured, and so as the evening winds down he holds you to the deal. You don't know why, but suddenly you're nervous. There wasn't even that much to tell...well...not much to you anyway. It just seemed so intimate.

“So, did you grow up here?” Shawn asks, stirring his drink with his straw.

“Yeah. My parents worked in the harbour and got married pretty quick. I wasn't really planned or anything, my dad always said they didn't want kids because they were both away on fishing boats a lot. Life isn't perfect though,” you chuckle, staring at Shawn's hand as he swivels the straw around in his drink with his index finger.

“So...your parents didn't want a kid?”

You shake your head. “That's shitty right? I mean babies are not an accidental thing, if you don't want kids, be more cautious. Anyway, I was raised by my Grandma. My mom's mother. My parents just wouldn't give up their lives for a baby.”

Shawn leans back in his side of the booth and folds his arms as he listens. You glance up at his face and he looks kind of pissed off.  He was angry at your parents on your behalf, yet he hardly knew you. What a soft hearted person.

“So anyway, Falling Stars was my grandma's bookstore. When I got a little older I helped introduce her into the online marketplaces. She always let me run that part of the business because computers were just not her forte.” You chuckle to yourself. “She passed away when I was twenty, she was nearly eighty seven. Pneumonia. She left me everything.”

“I'm so sorry,” Shawn murmurs. “What about your parents? Are you in contact with them?”

You let out a dry laugh. “My parents are either dead or sitting on a beach somewhere with all their fishing boat money. I really don't know or care. They stopped sending Grandma money when I turned eighteen, stopped visiting when I was about thirteen.”

“Wow.”

“It's no big deal. I know it sounds sad and tragic but it's not. It's just my life. I grew up happy with just Grandma. I never knew any different.” You smile softly and Shawn smiles back. “Now it's just me and Alice carving our little place in the world one book at a time.”

“Yeah,” Shawn chuckles. “I'm sorry, by the way. I didn’t realize I'd open a can of worms like this. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No, we made a deal. You ate more, I spilled my guts. You already spilled yours earlier. I didn't even have to eat an ungodly amount of shrimp for it,” you smirk.

“Oh so I'm an open book eh?”

You bite your lip, looking away because it's just too easy to tease him. He felt so natural, easy to talk to. If this was flirting, you think you might be nailing it. “Just a little bit. I like it though, I like feeling comfortable with someone. It's been a while.”

“I can understand that, I feel the same way.”

You hum in agreement as you finish off your strawberry daiquiri. Shawn insisted you get anything you want off the menu and you hadn't had a strawberry daiquiri since your twenty first birthday...and it was definitely going to help you loosen up on this “not date”. So you went for it, and now it's gone and you're feeling giggly, and giggly meant you would probably be talking too much and Shawn should really take you home.

“Where to next?” Shawn asks as he hands the server his card and the bill he definitely wasn't letting you see.

“Home?”

“Already? Is Roselake just the harbour and Cap'n Clark's?”

“Well, no...but most of the shops are closed by now...I don't know if you’d really want to go to any bars. They're just full of old drunk fisherman anyway.”

Shawn grins and lets out a chuckle. “I don't seem the type to hang out with fisherman?”

You shake your head, leaning you chin on your hand. “Nope, but maybe Sunday we can go to the farmers market on the edge of town. Loads of people come and set up there. It's like a whole mini town.”

“Hmm, are you asking me on a date?” Shawn smirks. Ugh. You could grab his face and kiss him right there with everyone to see. How dare he be so handsome and tease you like it was nothing.

“I'll be showing you the town, it's not a date. Is this a date?”

“Well, I did spill my guts to you and take you to a restaurant where I paid, when we were supposed to be exploring Roselake. Is it a date? Ehh...maybe?”

“If it's a date, I get your sweater at the end of the night.”

Shawn raises his eyebrows at you, signing the credit card receipt that the server leaves. “Is that so? I've never heard of that rule.”

You sit back and cross your arms. You can feel your cheeks flushing from the drink. Either it had been pretty strong or your tolerance was in the hole, because you were feeling it. “It's a Roselake tradition.”

“Uh huh,” he smiles slowly, playing along with your nonsense. “I don't suppose I'd want to dishonor a town tradition then.”

“Nope, but if it's not a date, then you don't have to worry.”

“Right. Let's go, I'm sure Alice needs her dinner by now,” Shawn says as he stands and offers his hand. You take it and he keeps one hand on your back as you leave the restaurant.

The drive home is quick since Shawn isn't getting lost this time. He parks the Jeep outside the shop and comes around to help you out. An actual gentleman. Wow.

“Thanks for showing me around town,” Shawn says as he walks with you to your door. “Even if we did only go a few places.”

“It was fun.”

“It was. So um, good night I guess. You okay getting up the stairs?”

You nod, opening the stairwell door and stepping inside. “Mmmhmm. Goodnight.”

“Wait,” Shawn says, hand on the door frame. “I think this belongs to you now.” He shrugs out of his cardigan and hands it to you.

“Are you...”

“This was the best night I've had in a long time. I'd like to think it was a date if you would. Do you accept?”

He holds the sweater up and you grab it. It's warm and very soft, just like you thought it would be. “I accept. Do you accept my date this Sunday?”

He chuckles. “I do, but you're not getting my sweater after that date. I'll run out of clothes that way.”

“Alright, but this one is mine,” you say as you wrap yourself up in his sweater.

“Okay, okay, goodnight. I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Bright and early.”

Shawn moves his hand from the door frame and you close it. You stand on your tiptoes, looking out the window to see him as he gets in his Jeep. He sits there for a moment and pulls out his phone. He's smiling, laughing at something and he relaxes back into his seat, looking over at the shop with a smile as he talks. It make your heart swell, and you can't help but run up the stairs and jump on your bed. Shawn made you feel like you were sixteen again, and it was the best thing ever.

_____________________

“Welcome to Falling Stars,” you cheer from the counter, sat at your computer as usual. You look up and see it's Frank and his daughter Sylvia carrying in the bookcase he promised to make you. “Oh my God!” You jump up and run over to help them get it in.

It's made of dark wood that nearly matched the pre-existing shelves. On the top there is a mantle that has moons carved into it on either side. It's beautiful, far more than you ever expected. The table Sylvia brings in after the bookcase is set down is just a beautiful and has carved crescent moons around the top outside edges of it. It matches the shelf perfectly.

“What do you think kid? Not too bad for an old man!” Frank laughs, dusting his hands off on his overalls. He looks proud, smug even, and rightfully so. His work was stunning.

“They're amazing. I can't even begin to thank you, wow, I just...I'm at a loss for words. I can never repay you enough.” You walk over and put your arms around the little old man. He hugs you back, patting your shoulder and beaming at you when he pulls away. “Thank you.”

“You deserve it. You make Roselake brighter every day just by being here, it's about time someone gave back.” Sylvia clears her throat a little and Frank looks back at her. “I best be going, my wife has an appointment at the dentist. Seventy seven years old and I still have to hold her hand when we go there. Love her to pieces though,” Frank chuckles, shuffling out the door and to his truck.

You wave goodbye, standing beside Sylvia in the doorway as Frank pulls away from the street. “So, you know the new doctor?” Sylvia asks, nodding toward the clinic.

“We've met. He's really nice.” You hold your hand up where you've got a band aid covering the little bit of scab from the glass wound. “He patched me up the other week, excellent bedside manner.”

“I wouldn't mind a piece of that.”

“Sylvia! He's my age, come on.”

Sylvia shrugs and chuckles. “Call me a cougar then. Hey, I'm single and ready to mingle again.”

“Ah yeah, I heard about Ted. What a dick.”

“I'm past it. He can go fuck whatever city girls he wants, I got all his damn money and the house. I think I came out on top.”

You shake your head. “I still can't fathom why someone would cheat. I don't understand it.”

“Me neither kid. Anyway, you like the doctor? You said he's your age right?”

Shawn steps out of the front doors of the clinic and leans against the wall, head tilted back. “Yeah...I do. Would you mind?” You ask, looking into the empty shop and back at Shawn. Sylvia nods and makes a shooing motion with her hands.

You cross the street and walk up to Shawn, laying your hand on his arm gently. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, I'm great,” he smiles weakly, looking down at you. He's lying and he's horrible at it. “I just needed air, gets stuffy.”

“Mmm, everything all good today?” You press, hoping he'll just slip up and lower the obvious guard he holding up. “Anything interesting? I heard Mrs. Jenkins has a rash on her back the size of Texas.”

Shawn chuckles, covering your hand with his. “I'm not at liberty to discuss any of my patients, y'know, legal patient privacy rules and all.”

“Oh! Right, yeah, totally. I got ya. Well, if you need anything...I'm next door.”

“I know. Thank you,” he smiles, still weak as he grabs your hand and squeezes gently as he removes it from his arm and goes back inside. Something was wrong, properly stressing him out. You wished you could help.

You walk back over to the shop and Sylvia raises her eyebrows but says nothing. “Thanks for bringing the table and bookcase. Let your dad know that anything he needs, it's his.”

“Will do. See you around,” Sylvia waves and you close the door with a soft click behind her.

You get to work filling the new bookcase with the books that fell over a week ago. Every now and then you glance over at the clinic when you see movement but it's always a passerby or someone going to see Shawn. You can't help but wonder what stressed Shawn out, why he had to go outside and take a breather. Maybe something happened that reminded him of the city.

You turn a book over in your hands and smile. It was a favorite of yours, a romantic thriller called Run Among Thorns. You set it aside and finish up stocking the books. You go about setting up your autumn display with what you salvaged from the broken table. It's not much, but you still have a few mini pumpkins, the fake leaves, one glued together vase and a handful of pinecones. It was just as pretty if not smaller.

Ten minutes to six and you dust your hands off, looking around the shop with a satisfactory smile. Everything was back in order finally. Before you lock up you wrap the book you picked out earlier and feed Alice. You jog across the street and slide the book into the little mailbox next to the clinic door and put the flag up. It wasn't much, but you know receiving a gift on a bad day could change everything. It was something you learned from your grandma, something you hoped to pass on as much as you could.

_____________________

Sun shines in the window and you sit up, stretching and yawning big. It was Friday, only two days until your second date with Shawn. You can't wait, just the thought of being able to see him laugh again like he did at Cap'n Clark's makes your heart race. You're so distracted by thoughts of the weekend that you don't look at the clock and notice you've overslept until you're making breakfast and see the digital clock on the stove.

“Oh shit, shit,” you mutter, flipping the stove off and putting the eggs back in the fridge. It's after nine and you're supposed to be downstairs at eight. Alice would not be happy.

You don't bother to change out of your shirt and sweater, Shawn's sweater, that you slept in. You just pull on a pair of jeans off the floor and shove your feet into your fuzzy lined clogs and run downstairs.

Sure enough Alice is in the window, yowling like she's been abandoned for a week. Overdramatic cry baby. The mail flag is up on the post box and you peek in while unlocking the door. There's a few letter envelopes and a little box. You weren't expecting any returns or deliveries. You gather them up and head inside to feed your screaming furry baby.

With Alice satiated, you take a seat and tug open the brown paper wrapped box. It looks like an old disposable glove box and sure enough the top is taped closed so you have to open the end. Out of it falls a bunch of ribbon and miniature decorations of pumpkins, cats, skeletons and witch hats. A whole assortment of Autumn and Halloween-y things. A note falls out as well.

“A gift for a gift. Thought your table might need some friends. Thank you for the book, I can't wait to talk with you about it. -Shawn”

You look up through the windows and Shawn is standing there, holding up two coffee cups. He pulls the door open and walks in with a smile. “Good morning, did you oversleep?”

“Yeah, I guess I kept hitting the alarm,” you giggle sheepishly. Shawn sets a coffee down for you. “Thanks for the gifts.”

“It's no problem. You gave me a book, I had to return the favor.”

You pick up one of the skeletons and place him atop the register. “The craft store is in the city...”

“I know it is,” Shawn smirks around his coffee cup.

“Where did you get these?”

“I got them from the craft store, duh.”

“Oh.”

Shawn shakes his head. “They'll look great on that new table, or maybe,” he trails off, grabbing a little black cat and leaning over the counter. He tucks it into the side pocket of your sweater. “ it'll look cute like that.”

“You're a dork,” you laugh and he smiles big. “Don't you have patients to see or something?”

Shawn glances over at the clinic. “Yeah, y'know...a few but I had to see if you liked your gift.”

“I do, thank you again. Now go, don't keep people waiting!”

“I'm going,” he chuckles on his way to the door. Before he goes out he turns and looks back and says, “Oh and I like your sweater. It's very nice, definitely my favorite,” and winks. He dead ass winks at you and leaves.

You can't help the embarrassing giggle that bubbles out of you and you're glad that only Alice is around to hear it. You wrap his sweater around you and sigh softly, he was going to be the death of you and that would be just fine.

_____________________

“You what?!” Nani yells through the webcam. Her hair dresser jumps in the background and laughs. “You got his sweater?!”

“Yeah, I can't believe he actually gave it to me. I think he really likes me. Oh God I don't know how to deal with this.”

“Girl you just do you. He likes you for you. Do what feels natural, go with the flow. Remember when I met Erik?”

You pick your laptop up and carry it into the kitchen with you. “How could I forget? You sent me a text every ten minutes about his eyes or how he was sitting or when he almost touched your hand. God you were so infatuated.”

“Fair enough, but Erik liked me too. He gave all the signals and I was pressing go. What I'm saying is, listen to your gut and read Shawn's signals. You can't go wrong.”

“I mean I could but...”

Nani sets her phone on the counter of her hairdresser's booth. “He gave you his sweater, probably expensive by the looks of it, trust me. You can't read him wrong at this point.”

“I guess...”

“No guessing, he likes you. He brought you stuff for your display. Guys don't just do thoughtful stuff like that if they don't seriously like you.”

“You're right. I gotta stop over thinking it.”

“Yes you do. Let it happen.”

You nod, sighing softly as you say goodbye and let Nani get her hair cut. Nerves were getting the best of you and you knew it was only a matter of time. It had been three years since you let anyone in. After your ex, if you could call him that, you weren’t too keen on dating. Besides, everyone knew everyone in town and everyone had pretty much dated someone you knew, so it was weird. Seriously. If Nani hadn't gotten out of Roselake and went to college in the city she probably would have settled for and married Jackson Walters, her boyfriend before college. The thought of that makes your skin crawl. Not that he was a bad guy, but like, there was better in this world. You promised yourself that you'd never settle, even if that meant being alone with Alice until you were forty.

_____________________

Sunday morning you wake up and you're miserable. You knew you had a cold coming on while you grocery shopped on Saturday. Your nose was running, face swollen, ears a bit achy. You ignored it. Telling yourself it was just allergies even though it was autumn and everything was pretty much dying off in the cool air. You couldn't be sick, no, you had your date with Shawn at the farmers market today.

You force yourself out of bed and into the shower. A hot shower would clear this right up. You grab one of the little shower bombs that you made a few weeks ago, it's a chamomile mint one and if it didn't do the trick you were screwed.

Twenty minutes later and you step out of the shower feeling no better. Super. Awesome. You get dressed, the usual slightly too Iarge sweater, leggings, and boots combo. You add a scarf and knit fingerless gloves because it's a little chilly and they're cute. The clock reads five minutes until ten in the morning and the market opened in half an hour. You grab your keys and your bag and head down to the shop to feed Alice in case you got back late for dinner.

The sky is a little overcast but not bad, you had a few hours before it would rain. Plenty of time to browse the market. Once inside the shop you feed Alice and clean up a few books you left out the night before. Shawn's Jeep pulls up and you take a deep breath and head out to meet him.

As you expected, Shawn gets out and comes around to see you before you get in. The moment he lays eyes on you he knows. He can tell you're sick. It must be the way your face looked so pale, or maybe it was your red nose from wiping at it. Either way, there was no hiding it.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks, raising his hand up to touch your forehead. “You're kinda warm”

“I'm fine. Probably just hot from the shower,” you smile, trying your best not to sound nasally and stuffed up.

Shawn slides his hand down to your cheek and cups it, his whole palm covering the side of your face. A blush creeps up on your cheeks and you feel that familiar rush of cool adrenaline in your veins that happened when Shawn got a little affectionate with you. “I don't know if you should be walking around outside like this.”

“I'm fine. If I feel terrible I'll just call a doctor...oh wait,” you chuckle and he gives you a look. “I promise I just look sick. I feel great.” Ugh who were you trying to convince. Probably yourself to be honest.

Shawn looks skeptical but he helps you into the Jeep anyways. A short drive later and you're parking in a gravel covered lot across from the field where the market is set up. Despite the overcast skies, it's a pretty big turn out. There is at least twenty tents set up in the front area and more in the back.

“So, is this here every weekend?” Shawn asks as you trek towards the tents.

“Every Sunday, May until the end of September. I used to come here with Grandma every weekend. We would get vegetables and stuff for the week. She liked things as fresh as possible.”

“Was she fun? You seem fond of her.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, wandering toward a booth that has stone bracelets for sale. “She was my best friend and my parent. She had her quirks, we all do, but she was great. I miss her.”

Shawn hums. He's watching you touch the bracelets, not saying anything as you browse the selection. As you move on to the necklaces he lifts the pendant of one with his fingers. A chunk of quartz wrapped with gold wire on a leather cord.

“This one is pretty,” he says softly, bumping your hand with his to get your attention.

You look over and he lifts it off it's display. He puts it over your head and lays it over your bulky scarf. You touch it carefully, looking up at him as you do. “It's gorgeous.”

“How much?” Shawn asks the seller, an old man sitting in a chair behind the tables.

“Twenty five dollars.”

Your eyes widen and you lift it over your head. “It's beautiful, but I don't need it.”

“It's my treat,” Shawn says pulling out his wallet. You push his hands down and shake your head. “Seriously if you want-”

“We'll come back. There's a lot more to see. What if I like something better?”

Shawn pockets his wallet and nods. He knows you're right. This was only the first tent you'd stopped at. There were many more to see. Shawn thanks the seller and he waves you off politely.

The two of you wander from tent to tent checking out everything from vegetables, baked goods and local honey to jewelry and yard art. You refuse to let Shawn buy you anything because you don't want to decide until you've seen everything. It's almost an hour into your date and you're talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Shawn is easy to talk to and even easier to trust. He tells you about how he grew up in the city in a small suburb. He doesn’t say a lot about his parents but talks about how he played hockey and baseball growing up. You tell him about how your grandma would insist that she walk you to the bus stop every day until you were sixteen and you tell him how you won a few awards for art class projects in high school. He tells you he went to a private high school with around six hundred kids. You went to a public school a town over that had maybe six hundred kids from surrounding communities but the whole school was kindergarten through twelfth grade. The two of you grew up very differently but that didn't change who you ended up becoming.

It's almost noon when you feel yourself get dizzy, exhaustion setting in. Your body is reaching its limit. Your head hurts and you feel stuffed up and out of it all of a sudden. Shawn notices right away that you're not doing so well. He holds your arm, steadying you as you start to sway.

“Whoa whoa whoa, what's wrong?” Shawn asks worriedly. He holds your arms and looks down at you.

You look up, eyes heavy and face aching like your sinuses are full. “I don't feel good. My head hurts,” you mumble through a stuffy nose.

Shawn puts his hand on your head. “You're burning up. We need to go home.”

“No, I don't want to ruin our date. We haven't even seen everything yet.”

“I don't care about that. We can come back on another date.”

You shake your head and rub at your nose with your gloved hand. “It's the last weekend.”

Shawn sighs. “We'll come next year. I'm taking you home.”

You lean into him and sigh. Next year. As if you would be together then. As if he would still be in town. Fat chance. His hand comes up to your hair and you wrap your arms around his chest. He's warm, soft, and smells like really good cologne and fresh laundry. You hold on to him, to this moment, never wanting it to end, wishing you weren't sick.

“Can I take you home?” Shawn asks softly and you nod into his chest, wanting nothing more than to be in bed.

_____________________

It's a while later and you wake up, not remembering much of the drive home or falling asleep. You find yourself tucked into your bed with Shawn sitting up next to you on top of the blankets, the TV playing some Hallmark movie on mute. You sit up and cough, your chest feeling full and tight with congestion. You're miserable.

“You're awake,” Shawn mumbles, sitting up right with you. “Let me feel your head.” He reaches over and presses his palm to your head and cheek. “Still hot, do you have a thermometer?”

“I don't think so?”

“Alright, I'll be back,” Shawn says, getting up and heading for the door. “I'm going to get some stuff from the clinic.”

“I'm fine, it's okay. I'll be alright you don't need to stay.”

Shawn walks over to you and cups your cheek, looking down at you fondly. “I'm not going to leave you alone while you're running a fever. It's not in my blood to do that, and I think you know it. I'll check you over fully when I get back.”

“But we've only known each other for two weeks. Why would you want to stay and help me?”

“Because I care about you, and also I'm a doctor y'know. It's in my nature to heal the sick.”

A flush rises on your cheeks and it has nothing to do with the fever. The way he is looking at you, golden brown eyes catching the light of your lamp beside the bed, staring at you softly but determined. His hand is warm, soft, big...you never want him to stop touching you. You never want this moment to end.

“You look so sleepy and kissable right now,” Shawn murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek. You close your eyes and he steps closer to you, legs against yours over the edge of the bed. “I guess I'll have to take a raincheck huh?”

“Mhmm,” you hum and his hand slips away from your face. You lean forward, chasing the touch, but he's gone. You open your eyes to see him closing the front door quietly.

Shawn returns quickly, a little bag of supplies from the clinic in tow. You sit up as he walks into your bedroom and sets the bag on the bed. His sweater is soaked and it's then you notice the faint sound of rain on the roof. He grabs the bottom of his sweater and tugs it up over his head, revealing a grey tee shirt beneath. His tee slips up a little and you get a peek at the trained chest hiding under there. You feel like passing out and again it has nothing to do with the fever.

“C’mere,” he mutters, pulling a digital thermometer out of the bag. It's one of the kind that you swipe across the forehead. He presses it to your skin and slides across. It beeps. “A hundred and one. I knew you had a fever.”

“I just need to sleep.”

“Well yes but you also need some Tylenol to bring the fever down. I brought some from my desk at the office.” Shawn digs through the bag and pulls out a bottle of Tylenol. He gets up and goes to the kitchen to get some water for you. “Take two for now,” he says and waits for you to swallow the pills with the water. He pulls your desk chair over and sits before he takes your face in one hand, turning your jaw to look at him. He gently pulls your cheek down on each side with his thumb so he can see your lower eyelids. “Looks good, how's your throat?” He puts his hand along the sides of your throat and massages upward gently.

“Sore,” you mumble and he nods. You try to look anywhere but at him because your heart is racing. This is very close and intimate.

“You're swollen. Probably from irritation from the drainage.” He grabs something from his bag and you see it's one of the ear scope things with a light on it. He turns your head and peeks in each ear. “Say ahh,” he says, grabbing a tongue depressor from the bag. You open your mouth and he takes a look at your throat. “You need some antibiotics. I think you've got an upper respiratory infection starting. I'll write up a prescription.”

“I'm that sick? Can't I just take some cold medicine?”

Shawn looks at you seriously. “Cold medicine isn't going to take care of an infection, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you flush, looking away.

“I'll get the prescription called in to pick up in a while. Are you hungry yet?”

You shake your head. “I just want to sleep.”

“Alright. I'm going to call in the antibiotic and pick it up now then. When I get back I'll stay until the fever comes down,” he says, packing his stuff into his bag and pulling up the number for the local pharmacy on his phone.

You settle down into the blankets and roll on to your side, facing Shawn as he walks along the side of the bed, pacing, waiting for the pharmacy to answer. His hand comes down and pets your hair back softly when he pauses for a moment. You glance up and he starts speaking to someone on the other line. He keeps his hand in your hair, fingers flexing gently against your scalp. His petting relaxes you and you find yourself falling asleep easily as he talks low and soft to the people on the other end of the phone about the prescription.  

_____________________

Shawn leaves at some point because you hear the front door close but you don't wake up enough to register what time it is or how long you've been asleep. The door opens again and you stir, rubbing your eyes and watching as Shawn comes into view.

“Sit up sweetheart,” he says softly as he brings your chair over to sit beside you again. You do as he says and sit up, head pounding in your skull and nose clogged up. “I have your medicine.”

He rifles through the plastic bag on his lap and pulls out a little bubble pack of pills.

“I don't want to take anything else,” you whimper. The thought of swallowing anything was daunting. Your throat felt like you swallowed a bunch of cacti already. “Can't I just sleep.”

Shawn places his fingers against your lips with the pill and you open up for him. He sets it on your tongue and hands you your water bottle. “The sooner you get this in your system the better.”

You swallow with much effort and lay back. Shawn grabs his thermometer and presses it to your forehead, reading the digital screen and shaking his head. He doesn't say anything but you know you still have a fever.  

“Thank you,” you mumble, curling into your pillows.

Shawn leans down and kisses your temple. “It's what I do. I'll be in the living room if you need me, you can rest now.”

_____________________

It's dark when you wake up again. Your first thought is Alice. She had been alone all day and now it's past dinner time, she must be wondering where you are. You push the blankets away and shuffle out of the bedroom, grabbing your keys from your purse as you go.

You manage to get to the bottom of the stairs and open the door before you realize that you don't have anything to protect you from the rain. It's pouring outside and it's freezing cold. Oh well. It's just a few feet to the shop door.

You step out into the rain and immediately regret it. It's icy cold and the wind is blowing so it's literally pelting you with what feels like actual ice chips. Your sweater is soaked, leggings soaked, slippers barely keeping the rain rushing down the sidewalk off of your feet. Your hands are shaking, rattling the keys as you try to open the door. It's too much. You're freezing. It has to be around forty degrees and the wind is making it colder.

Frustrated tears run down your face and you let out a chest aching cough. Your hands are too cold and wet to get the key in the lock and you can see Alice at the window meowing.

“Hey!”

You turn and Shawn is standing in the doorway to the stairs. He sees you in the little alcove where the shop door is and makes a bee line for you. You slump against the door and he wraps his arms around you, his chest warm against your back. “What are you doing out here? It's sleeting and you're sick. Are you trying to develop pneumonia?”

“Alice,” you cough, pointing at the window. “She needs to have dinner.”

Shawn looks at Alice in the window of the darkened shop. He takes the keys from you and pockets them. “I'll feed Alice in a minute, you need to get warm now. Your skin is freezing cold and you're going to get worse.”

“But I can't-”

“Trust me, I can feed Alice. Please, come back inside with me.”

You decide to trust him. You know he will feed her and pet her but she wasn't the one sick and freezing to death right now. She wasn't going to starve. You realize that and let Shawn walk you back up to your apartment. You undress, his back to you and you put on some sweatpants and a hoodie. As soon as you're dressed he heads down to the shop, promising he will be back soon. He says he's going to feed Alice and get a change of clothes from his apartment.

A few minutes after Shawn leaves you're almost asleep and your phone rings. It's Nani. It's morning for her on the other side of world and after a few more rings you pick up. “Hey, what's up? How was your day?”

“Well for starters, Shawn is at my place, I'm freaking out.”

“What?! Whoa hold on. Is he there now? You sound like shit, are you okay? Are you hallucinating?”

You chuckle and end up coughing. “I'm sick, an upper respiratory infection Shawn says. We were at the market and I was feeling horrible so he brought me home. Anyway he won't leave until my fever is down, but he's gone home for some clothes and he's feeding Alice.”

“Bless him.”

“This isn't exactly how I pictured him staying over y'know?”

Nani laughs. “Of course not, but I'm glad he's there with you. What if he wasn't around? You'd be miserable.”

“I'm still miserable even with him around. I don't want the guy I have a thing for to be taking care of me like a sick kid.”

“He cares about you, obviously. It sucks that you're sick because otherwise I'd tell you to make a move. The guy must be seriously into you.”

“I think he is and I'm definitely into him too. But being sick and having him dote on me is not how I pictured starting a relation...ship...” You trail off as Shawn walks into the bedroom with a smirk on his face. You'd never even heard the front door open. You could die of embarrassment. In fact you wish someone would just off you right then and there.

“Aren't you supposed to be resting?” Shawn says cooly, walking over and holding his hand out for the phone. “Doctor’s orders.”

Nani yells and you hang up on her, passing the phone to Shawn. He sets it aside and slings his bag over his shoulder. “I'm going to go change in the bathroom. When I'm done would you like some tea? Soup? Anything?”

“Some soup would be good. I have a can of beef vegetable in the cupboard next to the fridge.”

“Okay. Rest while I make it. I'll get a few more Tylenol and check your fever again too.”

“Thank you,” you mutter and he stops in the doorway, looking over at you. “You don't have to do this.”

“I know, but I want to,” he smiles and pushes off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom to change.

_____________________

Shawn spends the night with you, sleeping on the couch so he wouldn't risk getting sick. Your fever ends up breaking around midnight and the antibiotic and some over the counter decongestant samples that Shawn brought from the clinic finally seem to relieve some of your congestion and over all sludge feeling.

You wake up late the next morning, your phone having died some time in the night since you hadn't put it on the charger. There's a sticky note on your bedside table along with a few more cold medicine, your antibiotic and a new bottle of water. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and you let out a nasty cough. You still felt like garbage but at least it wasn't total shit now.

You grab the note and it's from Shawn of course. He says he fed Alice at seven this morning and locked up. The keys are on the hook by the door and he will stop by at lunch to check on you. You set the note down and take the medicine. You find your way to the kitchen and there is a note on the microwave. It says that there is a bowl of soup in the fridge if you're hungry. A soft smile spreads across your face. Shawn was such a sweetheart.

A bowl of soup, a hot shower and a dryer warmed sweatshirt later and you're ready to go down to the shop, though you really want to go back to bed. You put your boots on and grab a blanket off the couch in case you get a chill and make for the shop. Once you're outside you see Frank standing outside of the shop with a bag, peeking in the windows.

“Morning Frank,” you say and hardly recognize your own voice.

“Oh! There you are. I was starting to wonder if something happened.”

“Just a little late. I'm a little sick, and I overslept,” you chuckle as you open the shop door. Frank follows you in and waits for you to greet Alice and get set up behind the counter.

“I got a few books!” Frank cheers, eyes crinkling happily as he places three titles on the counter. “I know you said I don't have to, but I like bringing you books.”

“Thank you Frank. What can I get you?” You go to your lotion shelf and Frank waves his hand at you.

“Nothing today. We're still good to go at home. I did want to ask you something though.”

“Of course.”

Frank leans over the counter and drops his voice as if someone was around that could hear him. “When was the last time you talked to your parents?”

His question stuns you. It was the last thing you ever expected to hear, and somehow it made your stomach sink. “Um, I'm not sure. Maybe when I was thirteen, so, about nine or ten years ago?”

“Rumor has it down at the Bay Bar that they're back in town. I thought I should let you know, in case you wanted to dodge them. I know you aren't close and all and they kinda left you with Grace.”

“Thank you Frank. I'm glad you warned me, though I'm not sure what they could possibly want. I'm sure they're just docked here with the rest of their ship's crew.”

Frank shrugs. “Maybe you're right, we got some fishing boats in a few days ago that are docked while storms die down on the ocean.”

You nod. “Thanks for the books by the way,” you smile, looking at the novels. “I'm sure they're just what someone is looking for.”

“Oh you betcha!” Frank smiles, giving a thumbs up and heading for the door. “See ya next time kiddo!”

You wave Frank off and collect the books from the counter to put by your computer. You would look into them a bit later after you finished filling some online orders from the weekend.

Noon comes quickly and you're just wrapping up your last shipment to take to the post office when Shawn walks in the door. A gust of cold air washes across your face and you look up from the back counter. Shawn has a bag in his hand that looks like take out from Dixie's Diner down the street.

“What a gentleman, you've brought me lunch huh?” You smile softly as you turn around.

Shawn chuckles and sets the bag on the counter. “I didn't have enough time to make homemade chicken soup this morning, so Dixie's will have to do.”

You walk around the counter and lean on it beside him. “A man who can cook and heal the sick? You must be an angel.”

“And you're supposed to be resting. How are you feeling?” he hums, tucking some hair behind your ear. His touch sends fire through your veins. “You're very chatty.”

“I am?”

“Yes, and I like it. I like hearing what's going on in that head of yours,” he grins, and you roll your eyes and blush, dropping your head and tucking your face into your arm resting on the counter. “You're so cute.”

“Stoppppp.”

“Alright, alright I'm done teasing.” He lays his hand on your shoulder and rubs lightly. “How's your head and your chest?”

You straighten up and his hand falls away. “They're doing alright. I took the medicine you left and I've been drinking hot tea when I can, but I've been busy. I've been trying to take it easy though.”

“Well at least you're taking it easy, seeing as you aren't resting. You should listen to your doctor y'know.” You flush and turn away from him. He chuckles. “I saw you had a little rush earlier. A travel bus?”

“Yeah, they come through sometimes on the way up the coast. It wasn't too bad. Mostly older people looking for gifts or something to pass the time,” you say, returning your attention to him and glad for the subject change.

Shawn hums. He opens the lunch bag and takes out a styrofoam bowl and a little bottle of orange juice. “I hope you like mixed fruit because it's the only side they had today,” he laughs pulling out a second foam bowl.

“Of course I like it,” you chuckle. You pop open the lids and despite your stuffy nose, you can almost smell the warm chicken soup. “Thank you so much.”

“Anytime.”

“You didn't get yourself something?”

Shawn shakes his head and rubs his neck. “I actually have appointments all afternoon. I only have another minute or two before I gotta get back.”

“Oh, okay. No problem. I'll see you after work?”

“Yes,” he smiles and leans in. Your heart races and you can't even breathe as he gets closer. He kisses your forehead and pulls back beaming like the sun itself. “I'll stop by before you leave.”

“O-okay. Bye?”

“Bye,” he says smoothly as he makes for the exit, leaving you dumbfounded with your soup and a curious Alice who has jumped up on the counter.

_____________________

Shawn is waiting for you when you walk out of the shop and lock up. He's leaning against the door to your stairway and he looks exhausted. His eyes are closed, arms folded across his large chest, the setting sun warming his skin and making him practically glow. He's a sight to be seen.

“Hey,” you murmur and he opens his eyes, sun catching them too. So beautiful. You never want this moment to end. “Don't move.”

“Mmkay?” He smiles, remaining still at your request. He watches you as you pull your phone out and hold it up to take his picture. “What are you doing?”

“Capturing a moment.”

“A moment?”

You lower your phone and walk up to him. “You look amazing in this light. I wanted to remember it.”

Shawn drops his arms and reaches for your hand, fingers just barely catching yours. “You look amazing too.”

“Shawn stop, I'm sick, you know I look like death warmed over.”

“You don't really,” he steps closer, hands coming up and he twirls his fingers around some stray hairs by your ears, looking down at you with his eyes so soft and full of adoration. “Believe me, I've seen death warmed over.”

“Yeah yeah.”

“Enough with the flirting, I wanted to make sure you're doing alright.” He lays his palm on your face and his big hand covers your cheek and jaw. “You don't feel too warm. You took your medicine?”

“Yes, with lunch.”

“Good girl,” Shawn grins and you swallow thickly. “Take your third dose tonight before bed and please just rest.”

“I promise I will.”

Shawn leans down and kisses your forehead, cradling your cheeks in each hand. “I know you will. I'll see you tomorrow?” You nod and he steps back. “Good night sweetheart.”

“Good night.”

_____________________

A few days pass with Shawn checking up on you before and after work. It's nice and you love seeing him every day, even if it is just for a few minutes. It's Friday again and you've closed up early to mail some packages and head to the store to pick up your groceries for the week when you run into your friend Katie. She is visiting her parents for a week and she happens to have been filled in on the local rumor mill. She knows that you and Shawn have been seen together and she's infinitely curious.

“Sooo, what's he like? Is he very serious and professional all the time?” Katie asks as you round the corner of the small over the counter medicine isle.

“He's nice, really sweet and thoughtful,” you trail off as you browse the selection for the medicine Shawn had given you for congestion last week. You figure it'll be good to have on hand if you do get sick again if you don't use it all. You're feeling much better, still a little congested in your head, but it not too bad. A few more doses of the medicine and you'd be good to go.

“You've got it bad for him.” Katie says as she grabs a box of bandaids and holds it up as you raise your eyebrows at her. “Mika gets hurt every time he turns around. Toddlers, y'know.”

You nod. “Anyway, I do not have it bad for Shawn. We're just getting to know each other. It's only been a few weeks, a month now maybe.” It felt like it had been so much longer.

“Uh huh. Any dates planned for this weekend?”

“No, he's going into the city I think.”

Katie grins and leans against the cart. “We should go into the city too. I'll get my mom to watch Mika and we'll have a girls night.”

“Really? I haven't been out since Nani moved to the Philippines with Erik until the wedding.”

“Yeah, you need this, we're having a girls night. This weekend. Pack a bag girlie, because we're gonna get wasted and paint the town red!”

You let out a laugh. You missed Katie, she was always the wild friend. Having a baby and being a full-time chemical engineer didn't slow her down at all it seemed. She was amazing, someone you aspired to be one day. She was so lucky.

_____________________

You're at the post office standing in line to send out some books that you had been putting off when you feel someone standing a little too close behind you. You shuffle forward and they move with you. It's annoying. You shuffle again and turn to look this time and see it's Shawn.

“Hey,” he chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“I thought you were some creep.”

“Nope just Shawn.” He folds his arms and leans against the packing counter to your right. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine. I got more of the medicine you suggested for me. The one for my stuffy head.”

Shawn nods and hums. “Any plans this weekend?”

“Yeah, actually my friend is in town and we're going to have a girls night in the city. Why?”

“Oh, well my plans fell through so I was going to ask you out since the farmers market got cut short y'know? That's okay though, no problem. I'll give my friend Thomas a call.”

You move forward with the line and look back at him. “You sure? You sound kind of disappointed.”

“No, no of course not. Well, a little, but not because you have plans. I was really looking forward to seeing some friends this weekend. It's no big deal.”

“Next weekend?”

“Yeah,” Shawn smiles. “I have an idea of something we can do. If you're up for a bit of a drive.”

“No problem. I like driving with you, you're good company.”

Shawn chuckles. “It's a date then?”

“It's a date.”

_____________________

The weekend comes and it's Saturday night and you find yourself at the end of the night in a bowling alley in the city with Katie and a table full of shots behind you. The two or you had been shopping all day and trying different food places around the city. Because the day out wasn't enough, Katie suggested bowling and drinks, a favorite girls night out activity. It's almost midnight and cosmic bowling has just started. You're three shots down, plus a daiquiri you had at dinner, and it's getting hard to throw the ball anywhere but directly in the gutter.

Some guys from a nearby lane wander over and start chatting you and Katie up. Katie's all about flirting, she's single after all. Mika's dad walked out when he was born three years ago. You however are not about that flirting life. In fact one could say you have no game and your life time scores are basically in the negatives.

“I like your dress,” a guy named Dave says and smiles at you as you take a seat. “It's very flattering.” His eyes were clearly on your ass moments ago.

“Thank you,” you mumble uncomfortably.

“So...are you from the city?” You shake your head. “Cool cool...um, so are you single?”

You roll your eyes. What a pick up line. “No I'm not.” It's not technically a lie. You were seeing Shawn though neither if you had discussed it being an actual thing. It's was still early in your relationship.

“Oh...well I mean I don't see him here.”

Katie walks over and leans on the table. “Yeah, she's dating some hot shot doctor.” She rolls her eyes. “You're way too broke for her Dave.”

“Katie!”

“Well okay then,” Dave says angrily and gets up to go join his friends.

“What? You didn't want to talk to him anyway. I could practically see the soul leaving your body as he spoke. You're welcome.”

“You didn't have to be so rude, jeez.”

Katie glances over to a few of his friends who are eyeing her long legs in her short skirt. She gives a cute wave. “Guys like Dave over there don't know how to quit. I saved you from an evening of a nagging man baby’s company.”

“Can we go soon?”

“Why? We just got started.”

You sigh and put your head in your arms. The alcohol is making you dizzy, and combined with the black lights and the neon colors, you feel sick. “I don't know how much more I can do. I feel like I'm going to puke. It's been a long day.”

“Alright,” Katie calls the guys over and offers them the remaining shots on the table. The two of you leave with a few more frames left on the lane but neither of you care. You call for an Uber and wait outside the bowling alley.

Ten minutes turn into twenty and before you know it you've been waiting nearly an hour. Katie called for an Uber too but no one showed up for her either. You can't walk and Uber is the only service in the city who will drive after midnight that isn't a sketchy cab service. There are some guys close by who look like they've just come out of a nearby bar and they're chatting, glancing your way. It makes you uncomfortable.

“Can you call anyone?” Katie asks, rubbing her ankle where her heel strap rubbed it raw. She's too concerned with her foot to notice the guys. “Just call the Uber again.”

You stare at your phone and flip through your contacts. No one was going to be awake and everyone you know is in Roselake. Well, everyone but one person. Shawn. He was in the city this weekend, but you didn't want to bother him at almost one in the morning. You glance at the guys across the street. One is gone but the other two are still leering.

“What is it? You're making a face,” Katie slurs, more than half drunk and partially asleep.

“I could call Shawn but...I'd probably make him mad.”

“Well do you think he'd want you to walk to your hotel?”

You sigh and press the call button. Katie is right. Shawn picks up after two rings and you're surprised. “Yeah, hey Shawn. It's me.”

“What's wrong?” he asks sleepily. Maybe you had woken him up, but he'd answered so fast it seemed more likely he was awake.

You look over at Katie and she looks passed out against the railing of the steps. Extremely unhelpful. “I'm in the city at the Big Tex bowling alley. Our ubers haven't showed up and we can't walk to the hotel. I'm so sorry for this, is there any way you can get us?”

“Fucking Christ...of all places. Yeah. I'll be a couple minutes, I'm at home.”

“But I thought you were in the city? Wait...damnit. You did say you cancelled your plans.”

“It's fine. I'll be there.”

“I'm so sorry,” you mutter, voice breaking as you are overcome with guilt. He sounded angry with you and you know you shouldn't have called.

“No it's fine, I'd rather get you home safe. I'll be there in a few, just hold on.”

Shawn arrives fifteen minutes later, though the drive from Roselake should be a twenty five minute drive at the legal speed limit. He pulls up in his Jeep and Katie wakes up. She's pretty out of it as you and Shawn load her into the back seat with a little effort. Shawn closes the door and leans against it to stare at you. It's not until then that you realize he's wearing a pair of rectangular wire frame glasses. Something you didn't know about him yet. His gaze is indiscernible. Disappointed? Curious? Perhaps both.

“Please don't be angry at me.”

“I'm not,” he says softly. He steps forward and lays his hand on your cheek. “I'm glad you called me.”

“I thought you were going to chastise me. You sounded angry when I asked you to get us.”

Shawn smiles, chuckling a little. “You and your friend picked the worst part of town to get drunk in. The Uber won’t pick people up over here after ten at night because it's gotten so bad. I was just so worried that something bad had happened when you called me and said where you were. I'm sorry I came off harsh. I really am relieved you're alright and not hurt.”

You wrap your arms around him and he holds your head against his chest. “I was scared something would happen to us. There were guys who looked sketchy over there and then Katie passed out...God if I couldn't have called you who knows what would have happened.”

“Don't worry about that. Let me take you home.”

“We booked a hotel room for the night. At the Estates.” Shawn hums and says he'll take you there then.

A short drive and Shawn helps you out of the Jeep and Katie is out as well and leaning on you for support. You and Shawn help her walk into the building. On the way she trips and ends up almost falling, resulting in your balance going off and you falling on one knee on the way into the hotel room. Your knee is skinned, rug burned and jarred real good.

You head to the bathroom and Shawn gets Katie to her bed as she says something about him being such a hero. Mostly her words are nothing but slurred babbles. She's out cold before Shawn can help her get her shoes off.

You look up from your seat on the toilet in the bathroom to see Shawn leaning against the doorway. You have a cold rag over your knee and you're afraid to look at it again. It was pretty scraped when you put the rag on.

“You look too good right now,” you mumble, looking down at the rag. “Go away. I'm a mess.”

“Hey,” he starts softly, stepping in and kneeling before you. “You're not a mess. You're tired and a little drunk and your knee is scraped up.” He tries to lift the rag off but you hold it tighter. “Let me please.”

You release it at the soft pleading look he sends up at you. It's kinda gross. There's like little rolls of skin where it skidded on the carpet and it's all red and bleeding in a few spots. “I didn't know you wore glasses,” you say, changing the subject as he dabs at the bloody spots.

“I don't like to wear them. They make me look dorky.”

“No they don't,” you say with a hiss as he touches a particularly tender spot. “I like them.” Shawn hums and squeezes some water over the scrape. You let out a yelp and he presses the rag to it again. “I can take care of it. It's no big deal. You can go back to your place.”

Shawn gives you a look that says you know damn well he won't leave. You knew he wouldn't. “I'll go see if the desk has any first aid supplies.” He stands and kisses your head before disappearing.

You're left sitting there listening to Katie's soft snores and thinking about how good Shawn was. He was comfortable, caring and over all an amazing man. You feel lucky to know him, to have a relationship begin with him. Never had you felt a connection the way you did with him so quickly and it scares you, but also makes you feel relieved. It was like now was your time to find someone, and your grandma was right all along. Good things come to those who wait, and you sure did wait.

A few minutes later, the door to the room opens and it's Shawn who is returning with some gauze and tape for you. He bandages you up and helps you to bed. Katie is snoring loudly now, sprawled out sideways on her bed in her dress, one heel on still. You manage to change into your night shirt but skip your pants. The thought of wrestling your bandaged leg into a pair of flannel bottoms seemed too daunting.

Shawn gets you settled and when you think he's about to leave he doesn't. He turns off the bathroom light and heads for the door but instead of going out, he locks the deadbolt and turns around, joining you on the bed. It shocks you a bit. It seemed so forward of him.

“You're not staying with us.”

“You're in no shape to be left alone. Katie might need help if she wakes up and gets sick. You can barely put pressure on your leg. How am I supposed to just leave you here?”

“It's not that bad. It's just scraped up. I'm fine. I can handle Katie too.”

Shawn sighs. “Please let me stay?”

What would it hurt? “Fine. You're such a mother hen, yknow that?”

Shawn settles down into the blankets and faces you. “It's part of being a doctor I guess.” He takes his glasses off and sets them behind him on the nightstand. “Now go to sleep.”

“Easier said than done.”

Shawn reaches over and lays his hand on your side, thumb rubbing comfortingly along your ribs. “Is your knee bothering you that bad?”

“My head is pounding too.”

“Ahh. Come here.” He sits up and pats his lap. You move over and lay your head on his folded legs, looking up at him. He brushes your hair back when you get settled and you can't help but wonder how he looks good from this angle. “Can I try something?” You nod and he holds your head, thumbs rubbing into your temples.

Immediately the pounding lessens and you close your eyes and let his hands work magic on your head. You find yourself drifting off quickly, the throbbing in your leg easing up too, but probably from the pain reliever you took. The last thing you see as you try to open your eyes before the sleep takes you, is Shawn smiling down at you softly, knowing he's done his job and that your comfortable.

_____________________

The sun pours in through the thin curtains and casts streams of light across Shawn's sleeping form. He looks soft, vulnerable and relaxed. His one arm is over his head, the other across his chest. His mouth is hung open, soft lips parted ever so slightly and you can hear his slowed breathing in the silent room. This moment would be perfect to capture and you reach for your phone on your nightstand to do just that.

Shawn stirs, shifting his legs and scratching his chest as you move. You grab the phone quickly and turn back to get the photo. You're too busy trying to get the camera open and a low light setting on to notice that Shawn is awake and watching you, that is until you hold the phone up and he looks smug that he's caught you.

“What are you doing?” He asks with a sleepy grin.

“I was...just...”

“Capturing the moment? You seem to do that a lot with me.”

A blush spreads across your cheeks and down your neck. “Sometimes I'm not sure you're real, so I want to have proof.”

“Mmmhmm.” He sits up and takes your phone. “Just how often do you do this? Should I take a look, hmm?”

“No. Shawn give it back. It's mine.”

Shawn looks down at the phone in his hand and raises his eyebrows. The photo on your lock screen is the one of him outside the shop the other day. He smiles, the balls of his cheeks going pink as he hands the phone back to you. “If you want to take pictures with me, you just have to ask.”

You shake your head. “I don't like pictures of myself. I'd rather just see you.”

Shawn grabs his phone and his glasses off the nightstand. He opens up his phone and turns it to show you a picture on his lock screen. It's you. You're talking to someone out of photo and you're laughing. You're wearing his sweater and your hair is a little messy, but it's actually cute.

“When did you take that?”

“Last week. I stopped in to check on you but you were busy with a lady and her kids. I heard you laughing and I knew I had to get a photo. It's probably creepy. I'm sorry.”

“No, it's not. I mean we're kind of together, it's not like you're a stranger or something.”

“Kind of together?”

“Yeah? We haven't discussed anything?”

Shawn puts his phone down and smiles softly. “Can we discuss it now or-”

“Holy shit I'm going to throw up,” Katie says loudly as she rolls off her bed and runs to the bathroom. The sound of her puking ruins the moment entirely. How long had she been awake? Katie was one to snoop and be a fly on the wall of the rumor mill but you really hope she was asleep while you had been talking to Shawn.

“I'll check on her,” Shawn says softly, getting up and disappearing into the bathroom.

It's not long before you pack up your bag and get Katie's squared away while she sips on some soda from a vending machine in the lobby. She was so hungover she wasn't even giving you shit about Shawn staying the night. She looked miserable.

“Should I drive you home Katie?” You ask as you approach her car in the lot outside. Shawn has his arm around you for support since your knee is still hurting pretty bad.

“No, no I'm fine. I'm doing much better now. Go home with Shawn. Your knee is more important than my headache.” Katie unlocks her car and tosses her bag in the back. “Go on, we had our fun. You need to get your leg up.”

Shawn grips your side and you look up at him. “She's right, you do need to get your knee up. I'd like to look at it and make sure nothing is wrong.”

Katie waggles her eyebrows at you. “Let Dr. Shawn take care of you.” She leans in and wraps her arm around you in a hug. “Don't let him go, he's a good one,” she whispers in your ear and and you nod.

“I'll call you?”

“Anytime.” Katie gets in her car and pulls out, waving as she left you and Shawn together.

Shawn holds you tighter and you lean your head on his chest. “Now, how about that conversation we were having earlier?”

“Let's get to the car first big guy,” you say softly and he lets out a laugh. You knew last night changed a lot of things. Especially how you felt about each other.

_____________________

“So, would you like to be my girlfriend?” Shawn asks a few minutes from home. It's out of nowhere and you're taken aback by it. The two of you had been quiet for the majority of the drive until now.

“Really? I mean we've only been out twice. It's not a little fast?”

Shawn glances over and puts his hand out for you to take and you do. “I don't know? But I do know I care about you alot and I really feel something when we're together.” He brings your hand up and kisses your knuckles. The gesture makes you flush and you can't help but wonder what those soft lips would feel like on yours.

“Let's see how our next date goes. I definitely feel something for you too and it's unlike any other guys I've been with. You're different, special.”

“I can wait,” he looks over at you with a cheeky grin. “But I'm not going to tell you what the date I have planned is, if you thought bringing it up would make me spill the beans.”

“What? No! I was not...okay I was thinking it just a little. Come on, what is it?”

Shawn laughs and turns down the street toward your place. “Nope, it's a surprise. Now, let's get you inside because I need to check that knee.”

Shawn assesses your knee once you're inside and says it's just bruised and you should ice it and stay off of it as much as possible. He helps you get set up in your bed, leg up on a stack of pillows and a gel ice pack tied onto it. He stays for a little while, laying with you until his phone rings. He goes into the other room to answer and when he returns he says he needs to go, that the call is important. You don't push for more information, knowing it was probably something work related.

“I'll bring breakfast for us tomorrow,” Shawn says softly, leaning down and placing a kiss on your forehead.

You reach up and lay your hand on his cheek. “You promise?”

“I promise. I just have to take care of something. I want to stay, I do.”

“I know. Go on.”

Shawn kisses your head once more, lingering just a moment. He hums, runs his hand over your leg before pulling away and leaving you to rest. He exudes so much love that it makes your heart swell. Katie's words run around in your head, don't let him go, he's a good one. That he was. That. He was.

_____________________

It's a few days later and you're feeling much better, your knee hardly aches and the scrapes have scabbed over nicely. Shawn stops by both mornings and evenings after work to check on you. He never stays long and you're not sure why that is. He seems a little out of it on the second day, like he was distracted, maybe even nervous. You don't ask about it, not wanting to push him. If he was still weird after work today then you would ask, though you can't help but suspect it had something to do with the phone call he took the other day.

It's five minutes to closing time and you're straightening up the shop when the bell dings. You turn around fully expecting Shawn but instead you find your mother standing there. It had been nearly ten years since you last saw or spoke to either of your parents. They may as well be strangers. You wouldn't call them your parents at all really.

“H-hey,” you say quietly.

“This place looks just like it did when Grace was alive.” Your mother, no, Sherry says as she steps closer.

“What do you want?” You ask a little bit harsher than you mean to. Sherry raises her eyebrows and you hold your ground, refusing to repeat or soften your words.

“That's really no way to talk to your-”

“Mother? Hardly.”

“I sent you money for everything, I sent gifts on your birthdays. I'm sorry I couldn't be here all the time. I had a job, a career on a fishing boat. I couldn't exactly bring a child along.”

You pull your sweater of Shawn's tightly around yourself. “No. You couldn't bring a child along. Maybe you should have thought about that before getting pregnant. Or at least made plans to find new employment after you had a child.”

“It was an accident.”

The bell dings and you look past Sherry to see Shawn walking in. Now was not the time. You didn't want to do this with him around. You never wanted him to meet Sherry. “I'm sorry we're closed,” you say, voice breaking a bit as your emotions get the best of you.

Shawn ignores your words and walks up to you, blocking your view of Sherry. “Is everything okay?” He asks in a low whisper, holding your shoulders and rubbing his thumbs back and forth softly over your collar bones. “You're clearly upset.”

You shake your head, face twisting up as you fight back tears. “She's my mom,” you explain hopelessly in an attempt to make him understand that he should go and let you deal with this. He doesn't get the memo though.

“Excuse me, we are having a conversation,” Sherry quips and Shawn turns to face her.

Shawn puts his arm around you and keeps you tucked close to his side. He's a pillar of comfort and you press yourself closer. “I would beg to differ. She's clearly uncomfortable, you should probably go.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me just fine.”

“Young man I am speaking with my daughter and I don't know who you are so-”

“I'm her...” he looks down at you, unsure of what to call you. “I'm a good friend.”

“Please leave Sherry,” you mumble, and Shawn curls his fingers into your side comfortingly.

“I'm not leaving until you fork over Tom and I's share of Grace's will.”

“Of course you want money,” you huff disgustedly. “You didn't want to come see your child you barely recognize, you just want money. What happened to all those fishing boat riches? Huh?”

Sherry picks up one of your display decorations and sneers at it. “That doesn't matter. I want my money.”

“There is no money for you. Grace left everything to me, because I'm the one who was there for her. I held her hand on her deathbed while you and Tom fucked off on some boat in the Atlantic! I watched her die and I mourned her! I mourned her and you couldn't even so much as pick up the fucking phone!”

Shawn holds on to your shaking form. His hand comes up to your hair and he turns your face into his chest as you start to cry. “Ma'am you should leave.”

“I'm not leaving until I get my inheritance money from my mother.”

“Get out or I'm calling the police,” you tremble, hand on your phone in your pocket. “I'm serious.”

“You are a greedy child, I'll be back with a lawyer. We'll see if there's no money then,” Sherry spits, turning and leaving the shop, slamming the door on the way out.

Tears spill over your cheeks, a sob wracking your body as silence fills the shop. All these years and your mother only wants money from you. Shawn gathers you in his arms and rubs your back, shushing you softly. You don't know how long he holds you but it feels like a long time as you let loose the pent up emotional turmoil from the last twenty three years of your life.

_____________________

The two of you end up in your apartment curled up on the couch watching a movie after the confrontation in the shop. You're sharing a blanket, curled into his side with his hand in your hair. It's comfortable and feels completely natural.

“Do you think she'll really get a lawyer?” You ask suddenly over the movie.

“She might, but it'll be a waste of her money if she can even afford it. The will was really all left to you right?”

“Yeah. Grandma didn't leave her anything at all. She isn't even mentioned. After they stopped trying to be some semblance of parents, Grandma was done with them. There wasn't much money anyways, just a bit of savings and the shop was all I received.”

Shawn hums. “Let her waste her money then, and don't speak to her directly again if you can. Let her lawyer speak to the curator of your grandma's will. They'll sort her out.”

You snuggle down into his side until you're laying your head on his lap, staring up at him. His lap is warm and you press your cheek against his stomach. “I'm sorry you had to deal with that, with her.”

“It's fine, drama happens. Believe me, my parents aren't perfect either.”

“Yeah?”

Shawn chuckles sadly. “Divorced when I was twelve. They lived in the same neighborhood for a while though, but god they couldn't have been more different. Dad was a hardass, always on me about grades and shit, always wanted me to be a doctor like him and here I am I guess. Mom was very much a free spirit and she remarried when I was sixteen and moved to Spain.”

“Did she come back and visit, or did you go see her?”

“Ha, right. My dad wasn't about to fund me a trip to Spain. The way he saw it she was gone for good and for the better. She called a lot, and we emailed each other frequently.” He scowls, sighing frustratedly. “I will never understand how you can hate someone you once loved and had a child with. It perplexes me the way he acted like she was the devil. I just don't know when it all changed.”

You take his hand that he's rested on your stomach. It's soft, the lemon balm you sold him seems to have worked wonders. “I guess we both have fucked up families.”

“Yeah, yeah we do. But we aren't our parents, that's what's important.”

“You're right.”

You both go quiet and watch the rest of the movie. Shawn is asleep by the end of it, head leant back on the cushions, mouth hanging open. You decide not to move, instead you use his leg as a pillow and fall asleep right there as well.

_____________________

A few days pass and you don't hear from Sherry at all. You almost wonder if she's just left town again. It's Saturday morning and it's chilly, a sweater and long sleeve shirt kind of day. Tonight is date night tonight and Shawn still hasn't told you where you're going or what you're doing. It's half past nine in the morning when you hear knocking on the door to the stairwell and you aren't expecting anyone so you jog down the steps and peek out the small window to see Shawn standing there.

“Hey you,” you smile and Shawn returns the smile warmly.

“Hey. I was wondering if you were ready?”

“Oh?” You told your head curiously. “Is this part of the secret date?”

Shawn chuckles, stuffing his hands into his pockets and kicking at something on the ground. “Ah, this is the date? Didn't you get my texts?”

You raise your eyebrows. “No?”

“Oh. Well, can you be ready to go now?” He grins sheepishly.

“Yeah, it's fine. Come inside. I'll get some better clothes on real quick.”

Shawn steps inside and follows you up the stairs, mentioning that you should dress warm and giving you a heads up that you will be outside. Since it's chilly you opt for a few layers and your hiking boots. You dig out of a pair of gloves and a scarf with a matching hat from your winter clothes tote in the storage closet and you're ready to go.

“You look very cute,” Shawn says as he takes your gloved hands and swings them. “Good thing, because I'll want some pictures.”

“What are we doing?” You laugh and he shakes his head with a playful grin.

A short car ride later and you're not too far outside of Roselake in a small town called Tarrytown. Shawn pulls into a big dirt parking lot and you see a huge sign that says Pumpkin Patch. You haven't been to a pumpkin patch since you were very young and you went on a school field trip.

“It's been so long since I've been to one of these. Oh my God. Is that a hayrack ride?” You squeal pointing to a tractor pulling a wagon with some people in it nearby.

“Yes it is, and they have fresh caramel apples I hear.”

“What are we waiting for?” You clamber out of the Jeep and Shawn is close behind.

A short wait for admission later and you're off, running with Shawn to get caramel apples and cider. The corn maze is next and Shawn can see over most of it because it's dried up so much but he won't tell you which way to go and laughs when you go to a dead end. You end up cutting through the corn walls in the end while Shawn chases you. He catches up at the exit and picks you up, spinning you around before he tosses you in a haystack.

The two of you go to a horseshoe pit near the line for the hayrack ride and play until the line goes down. Shawn insisted he wanted a more private ride but you didn't care. When you do finally board the ride, after beating him in two rounds of horseshoes, he shrugs his jacket off and puts it around you. You sit together nearest to the back of the tractor and you're the only ones on it since it's the smaller wagon that was rotating with the larger one.

Shawn puts his arm around you and you lean your head against him. The soft bumps and rattling of the wagon make you feel so happy and content with the moment. “Are you having fun?”

You glance up at his soft face as he smiles down at you. “Yeah, of course. This is amazing. I love this place.”

“Me too. I hope I can bring my kids here one day.”

“You want kids?”

Shawn shifts closer to hold you as the wagon goes over some big bumps. “Someday I do. I love kids, they're so interesting and full of excitement. I think I'd be a good dad.”

“Wow. Pretty deep conversation,” you smile and he clears his throat as if he is embarrassed. “I want kids too. I wanna give them an amazing life with two parents that love them very much and I want to give them everything I didn't or couldn't have.”

“You'd be a great mom. I bet you'd read to them every night.”

“Of course. What about you?”

“I'd read along with you, maybe act out some parts.”

You sit back and look at him with a smile so big it hurts your face. “With me, huh?”

“I mean hypothetically, like y'know...”

“Just admit it, you have thought about having a kid with me.”

Shawn turns bright pink all the way to his ears. “Oh come on do you have to tease me like that? We haven't even kissed. Why would I-”

You lean in quick and a bump presses your lips together a little harsher than you mean it to but it's sweet nonetheless. Shawn chases your lips as you start to pull away, his hand coming up to cup your jaw. He kisses you two more times, slow presses against your soft lips. “I've wanted to do that for so long,” you mumble, cheeks flushed.

“Me too.”

The driver announces that the ride is stopping and you pull away from Shawn to let him put his jacket back on. He helps you off the wagon and takes your hand in his, warm fingers slotted between your cold ones. Your last stop is the barn where there are pumpkins to be picked out and taken home. You and Shawn end up with one large pumpkin each and a bag full of little gourds and baby pumpkins because he couldn't decide on any to put back.

A long car ride later and you're sleepy and it's only a little after noon time. Shawn pulls up at the bookshop and you stir from your cat nap against the window. Everything feels sluggish and weird.

“Hey, we're home. I was going to ask if you wanted to carve out pumpkins but you seem really tired.” Shawn reaches across and puts his hand to your forehead. “Do you feel okay?”

“Yes, just got sleepy. Thank you for an amazing date. It was very fun,” you smile, head turned toward him.

Shawn leans over and kisses you softly, hand on your cheek as you smile sleepily and happily at him. “It was very fun. Now come on, let's get these pumpkins inside. We can carve them in a few days.”

_____________________

A full week passes before you hear anything more from Sherry. In fact you completely forget about her because you're spending all your free time with Shawn. He cooks you dinner at his place on Monday. You go to a movie on Tuesday. Wednesday and Thursday are nights in at your place. Friday he takes you down to the harbour and you walk on the beach. Saturday you go to a fair over in the next town and he tries to kiss you on the ferris wheel, but a gust of wind blows your hat off and smacks him in the face. Sunday is dinner at his place again, this time candle lit and extremely romantic.

You're on your way home from Shawn's place on Monday morning when you round the corner of your street and see the front door of the shop is standing open. Shawn stops the Jeep and puts his arm over your chest to keep you from trying to leave. “Don't get out. You don't know who could be in there.”

“But Alice, if she's hurt...” You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. “Why would someone do this?”

“I don't know. Do you think Sherry would do something like this? I know she was upset but...”

“Oh my God,” you laugh in disbelief, “you're absolutely right. She probably broke in to see if she could find the money that doesn't exist.”

“We need to call the police.”

You reach for your phone in your bag and as soon as you get it out, Sherry walks out of the shop. She has a purse with her and you can only assume the contents of your safe. What an absolute scum of a human being. You dial the police and make a report right there in the car while Shawn gets out and goes in to find Alice for you.

A few minutes later and Officer Jones arrives to asses the damage and theft. He takes pictures and statements from you and Shawn. Alice is fine, hiding in the supply closet until Officer Jones leaves. The whole situation is surreal. You knew Sherry was a piece of work, but good Lord you didn't peg her as a thief.

“I can't believe she took everything. Every last penny in the safe,” you groan, leaning forward with your head in your hands. “She took my savings for Nani's wedding that I hadn't deposited yet.”

“Babe, you're going to get it back,” Shawn says softly, rubbing your back. “They will catch her, it's a small town.”

“But what if she spends it? I'm fucked then.” You start to cry. “I won't be able to go to Nani's wedding. It's this next weekend too, I'm never gonna make it.”

“I'll get you a ticket.”

“What?” You wipe your eyes and stare at Shawn. “I couldn't ask that of you.”

“You're not asking, I'm offering,” he says, cupping your cheeks. “I want you to be with your best friend on her wedding day. You deserve it. You deserve a vacation, you work too hard.”

“It's so expensive.”

“I'm a doctor. I think I can afford to send you to the Philippines.”

You reach out and hug him close and he tucks your face into his shoulder. “Thank you, I promise I’ll pay you back.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I don’t want you to be fretting over paying me back the whole time. Consider it an early Christmas gift.”

_____________________

“He's paying for your ticket and your mother robbed you? Holy shit what kind of wild place has Roselake become since I left?” Nani laughs in disbelief.

“I know, it's absolutely insane. I can't believe it myself. My sleepy little life has become pretty crazy since Shawn showed up.”

“Speaking of which, how has things been with Dr. Dreamy?”

You flop back on the bed and sigh heavily. “Amazing. We've been seeing each other every night for the past two weeks. Can you believe he hasn't made a move on me yet?”

“What? How? Why? Is he one of those guys who save themselves for marriage or like does he have herpes or something?”

“Nani! God! No he's perfectly fine. I think he just doesn't want to rush things. We've kissed and made out a lot and got close a few times to something more.”

“Ohmygod. You better sleep with him before you come to the wedding. Lock that man down before you're gone for a week.”

“Yeah yeah, I'll see about that.  I gotta go, it's time for dinner and he's taking me out. See you soon Nani, love you.”

“Love you!” Nani says with a kissy noise into the phone.

You hang up and get up to get dressed. Shawn said he was taking you somewhere nice for dinner since it would be the last night before you left for the Philippines. You're excited, assuming he's probably going to take you into the city. You can't wait.

_____________________

You were absolutely right. He picked you up and when you asked where you were going he said that it was a surprise but it was in the city. It takes a while, nearly twenty five minutes to get into the city from Roselake and then a little longer to get to your destination. Shawn rests his hand on your thigh for most of the drive and it gives you butterflies like crazy.

When you finally arrive at the restaurant Shawn chose, it's dark out, the street lights have come on and there are white Christmas lights strung around every tree along the street Shawn parks on. There are people everywhere, the place is crawling with excitement. The city was so different than Roselake, you would probably never get used to it.  

“Come on,” Shawn says softly, taking your hand and leading you to the front doors of a very fancy looking old brick building. He pulls the door open and ushers you inside. “Mendes, party of two,” he says to the host at the podium nearby.

“Right this way,” the host says, leading the two of you past full tables and into a little alcove that had a window that looked out on the busy street.

“This place is really nice,” you laugh, glancing around at the decor. It's all very high end and posh looking. The waiter stops by and takes your drink order and leaves a few menus.  

“It is really nice. I wanted to take you somewhere special,” Shawn smiles, looking down at the menu.

You eye him suspiciously. He was up to something. “Why's that?” you ask, leaning forward to get him to look at you.

“Well because you're going to be gone for a week and I wanted to make our last evening together nice.”

The waiter returns and takes your orders but you send him away for another minute. “Shawn, we could have just stayed home and had a good time with a movie and popcorn. Why does it feel like this is the last time we're going to see each other like in a bad way?”

Shawn raises his eyebrows. “What? No of course not. I'm just going to miss you.”

“Oh. Right.” You chuckle nervously. You can't help but feel like something was wrong, like there was something he wasn't telling you.

Dinner goes great, the food is amazing and Shawn keeps the conversation light. It feels strange, even though he was acting much the same as he always did. You couldn't shake the feeling. After dinner Shawn takes you out and around the downtown area. He shows you the hospital he worked at and you go to a park and look at the festive holiday lights display that's set up. The evening is a dream and if you didn't obviously know better, you'd say he would propose to you. It would actually be a perfect setting for it, but the two of you weren't at the point in your relationship. Hell. He hadn't even slept with you yet. Suddenly, on the drive home you realize how strange that is. You had been going out and seeing each other for nearly three months and he had only let you go as far as kissing and exploring with your hands. That bad feeling was coming back, twisting your stomach into a knot. You knew this was too good to be true.

Shawn pulls up and helps you out of the Jeep at your place. You can't help but think that he's going to still tell you something that was going to bring everything crumbling down around you.

“Thanks for dinner, and a great night,” you smile half heartedly, inching toward your door.

“You're welcome, I had a great time too,” he chuckles, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Do you still need me to pick you up tomorrow?”

Shit. That's right. He was taking you to the airport in the morning. “Yeah, yeah, thank you again.”

“Yeah,” he steps forward and lays his hand on your upper arm. He leans in and kisses you gently.  “Goodnight darling.”

“Goodnight Shawn.” You turn and push open the door and head up the stairs slowly. You were disappointed to say in the least. You reach the top step and there's knocking at the door. Maybe you forgot something in the Jeep. You jog down the stairs and pull the door open. “What's the ma-”

Shawn leans in, hands coming up to hold your cheeks as he kisses you. Your body goes slack, hardly managing to keep you on your feet as he works his soft lips against yours hungrily. You grab for his jacket and pull him in, the door falling closed behind him. He walks you against the wall and only then does he pull away just enough to talk.

“I can explain,” he chuckles breathily. “I've wanted to do more for a very long time but I've been afraid to.”

“What? Why?” You lean up, kissing him softly, lips warm against yours. “You're pretty good at kissing and you're definitely good with your hands.”

“I was scared of moving too fast. I fell too hard too fast for a girl in college and it fucked me up when she left after we hooked up. I didn't want that again, not with you.”

“Shawn,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks. “I'm way too into you to leave at this point.”

“I was really hoping you'd say that,” he grins, reaching around and hauling you up. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you up the stairs.

Shawn ends up staying the night, not that either of you get much sleep. He undresses you in the bedroom, slow and gentle, kissing along your shoulders and back the whole time. His mouth works wonders on your whole body, kissing, sucking, teasing places you didn't even know we're sensitive until he showed you. He's careful, checking with you every so often as he brings you to orgasm after orgasm. He fucks you nice and slow, rolling his hips into you and holding you close as he tells you how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have you.

Post sex you're on the bed, cuddling, exploring each other lazily. His skin is soft and warm and you love the way he jerks when you ghost your fingertips up his stomach. Lazy kissing and touching leads to another round of slow loving sex, this time with you on top, him hugging you tight as he rolls his hips up into you. You're sure you've never had sex with anyone before Shawn, at least it didn't seem that way. Shawn made it seem like it was more than just getting off, more than just a game. He made you forget your very few exes, forget everything you'd experienced before and replaced it with the best feeling in the world. You know now you'd never had sex with someone who loved you, because this was loving sex. This was what it was supposed to be like.

_____________________

It's fifteen minutes until your flight and you and Shawn are literally running through the terminal to get to your gate. You’re on the phone with Officer Jones about Sherry and the break in the other day. They’ve recovered the money and she will be charged for breaking in entry. You let the officer know you’re on your way out of country for a wedding, and that you’ll pick up the money when you get back. You pocket your phone and Shawn raises his eyebrows as you tell him hurriedly that you will be getting your money back. Both of you had overslept, hitting the alarm at least twice before getting up and dressed. Shawn had thrown on his wrinkled clothes from date night, and you dressed in what might qualify as pajamas but who cared. You're sure you look like quite a pair running through the airport.

“Gate 2C is now boarding.”

Shawn grabs your suitcase, lifting it off it's rattling wheels and tucking it under his arm. The two of you make it to the security gate and you have just a second or two before last call for boarding.

“Last call for Gate 2C,” a security officer yells from a few feet away. You know she's yelling at you. Shawn passes you your suitcase and you hurry for the security turnstile.

“I'll see you in a week!” You yell back as you squeeze through the gate where the security officer takes your bag for screening.

“Be safe! I love you!” Shawn yells and you pause. Did he really just say I love you?

You can't go back, the officer is ushering you forward around the corner to the body scan area. You want to turn around and run back so badly, you had to know if what you heard was right. You can't even text him because you're phone is in a bin for scanning. Your heart is racing, hands sweaty. He didn't say that. He wouldn't say that. He probably said “I'll see you”. Yeah. That's what he said.

_____________________

Two connecting flights and fourteen hours later and you arrive at the resort where the wedding is being held. Nani is elated to see you but you're exhausted. She helps you settle into your room, even makes you some tea before leaving you to sleep. You finally get to text Shawn only to find out that your pay as you go plan has expired. You curse yourself for being so cheap and not signing up for a contract plan.

The next morning Nani wakes you up with last minute wedding plans. She says she has the perfect groomsmen for you to walk with. Frankly you don't care who you walk with as long as it's not Erik's friend Mike. He was a dick and you'd only met him once, but once was more than enough. She promises it's not Mike but she wants to surprise you so she won't tell you.

Dress shopping and fitting with Nani and three other girls is a nightmare. It's Erik's sister Maggie, Nani's sister Hana, and Nani's other best friend from college, Maija. No one can settle on one style but the color is not debatable. Nani wants light pink and that's that. By the end of the day you have a dress, shoes and an appointment made to get your hair done tomorrow before the wedding. You still don't know who you're walking in the wedding with but you can't care. You're exhausted. The second your head hits the pillow of your hotel bed you're out cold.

Post hair and makeup and you're at the chapel in the resort, waiting in a room for Nani's wedding planner, Tara, to usher you out to meet your groomsman. You're last in line but you don't mind. Tara comes in and says she's ready, your groomsman is waiting at the doors.

You follow Tara out and walk up to the guy standing with his back to you. His suit is black with a pale pink button down peeking out around the sleeves. He's tall, like a lot taller than you and he has soft dark curls. From behind he was cute, hopefully his face wasn't too bad either. Tara steps away and goes to get the ring bearer ready.

“Hi, I'm...” You trail off as you approach the guy and he turns to look at you. Your heart stops. Standing before you is Shawn. Here. In the Philippines at Nani's wedding. You have so many questions you don't know where to start. “What are you doing here?!” you manage to blurt out, still transfixed on the man before you.

Shawn laughs, his eyes crinkling and mouth open wide as he throws his head back. “I have my ways. I'll tell you later, we have a wedding to attend right now.” He put his arm out for you and you loop yours with it.

“You look good in a suit,” you whisper as you walk beside him to the altar. “I like the pink shirt.”

“You look stunning,” he grins, kissing your cheek before pulling away as he goes to join the other groomsmen. You can't help but stare at him in awe as the music begins to play and Nani walks in with her father. How did he get here? Who did he plan this with? So many questions and you would have to wait forever until you got any answers.

The ceremony is nearly over and Nani and Erik are exchanging the last of the vows. You glance away from them to see Shawn mouthing the words Erik is repeating and you raise your eyebrows. He hasn't seen you yet, and you're glad because you find yourself mouthing along to Nani's repetition as well. Erik's brother Jason elbows Shawn and he looks at you. You flush and he grins nervously.

Pictures follow the ceremony and you're sick of sucking your stomach in and posing after the first few minutes. You don't want to pose for a billion photos, you just want to talk to Shawn. Not only was he here and you don't know how, you need to know if he said I love you in the airport.

Another hour passes and you go from the chapel to the lawn of the resort that was set up for the reception. It's not until several toasts are made and food is served that you get to talk to Shawn.

You're on the patio turned dance floor when Shawn wraps his arms around you and lifts you up from behind, spinning you around. “You look so pretty I can't deal with it,” he mutters, pressing his face into your hair.

“Stopp,” you giggle and he sets you down, hands going to your pinned up hair. “Don't you undo this bun. Nani will kill you.”

“But...please? Your hair is so beautiful when it's down.” Shawn twirls his finger around a stray piece along your cheek. “I'm so glad I got to see you like this.”

“You still need to explain to me how and why you’re here.”

“Well,” he grins, looking over at Nani and Erik. “Erik and I actually went to school together. You were talking about Nani the other day and the name seemed so familiar but I couldn't figure out why, but then you mentioned the wedding and her fiance's name was Erik. And I knew the Erik I know was getting married soon too. I texted him and found out that it was the same person all along.”

“Wow, that's crazy. Of all the people you went to college with... ohmygod. Had Nani met you already?”

Shawn nods. “I've met her a few times in the past few years. Mostly at parties and stuff. Small world huh?”

You lay your hands on his chest and smile up at him. “Do you love me?”

“Wh-what?”

“At the airport, I swear I heard you yell that you love me when you told me to be safe. Am I wrong?”

Shawn flushes and clears his throat. You know you've caught him and he can't lie his way out of this. Not that he seemed like he was going to. “I uh...I said that. It was a slip of the tongue. Instinct y'know.”

“Mhmm, I hope so. It's a little early for I love you's.”

“It is, but I do care for you deeply and I'm very into you.”

“I'm very into you too,” you giggle. Shawn goes to say something but the high-pitched feedback of the microphone grabs your attention. It's Nani, she has grabbed the DJs microphone and is announcing she is going to throw the bouquet now. You roll your eyes as she points at you and urges you to join the crowd of single and unwed ladies around the front table.

Shawn kisses your cheek and pushes you forward. “Go get the bouquet, you know you want it.”

You laugh, yelling back, “You do know what it means when someone catches it right?”

“Of course I do! Go get it!”

You hurry to the front and Nani turns around, counting down from five before tossing it back. Pink petals fall across the table as the flowers soar through the air towards the group. An eruption of giggles and squeals break out around you. It's headed for you but you're pretty sure it's going to go over your head.

You reach for the bouquet as it sails past your fingertips. You turn to look back and see who has it and you're met with a solid chest to the face. It's Shawn. You look up and he's beaming. He lowers his arm and in in his hand is the bouquet.

“I think these are yours,” he whispers, handing you the flowers. “Good thing I could reach them for you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur as you take them and smell the roses.  “I dunno if the superstition of the bouquet applies to groomsmen.”

“We'll have to find out.” Shawn grins and leans down, pressing his lips to yours and pulling you closer against him. There's an eruption of applause and whistles followed by someone shouting to look at the sky.

You pull back from Shawn and look up just as a falling star soars overhead, streaking across the darkened sky. “You should make a wish.”

Shawn hums, catching your gaze as you look to see if he is wishing. “I don't want to be too greedy. I made a wish on a falling star a long time ago. I think it already came true.” He leans down and kisses you softly, smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Mine did too.”

_____________________

Ten Months Later

A small two story brick house sits across from the newly opened Roselake West Clinic on Main Street. It's old, an original Roselake residence that has been remodeled recently. In the driveway are two cars, a Jeep and a small hybrid car that's bright blue. Sitting in the window is a large black cat, staring at the birds landing in the trees in the front yard.

Inside there is a half put together home. Boxes labeled laundry, living room, bedroom and kitchen. Furniture sits where it was left by movers, an air conditioner hums throughout the house, cooling it on this warm summer day and in the bedroom is you, four months pregnant and frustrated.

“Shawn, do you know where my yellow sundress is?” You yell across the house as you dig through  yet to be unpacked boxes littering the bedroom of your new house. “I can't wear jeans again, I'll suffocate!”

Shawn walks into the room and goes to the closet. He pulls out the exact yellow sundress in question and holds it up. “You hung it up with your other dresses last night.”

“Oh,” you walk over and grab it, flush with embarrassment. “Thank you.”

“You're starting to get baby brain.” Shawn steps close, hands on your belly that's starting to show. “Don't go totally crazy on me now.”

“Oh shut up,” you giggle. He rubs up and down your sides and pulls you into a hug. “I'm not going crazy.”

“I'd love you even if you were.”

You wrap your arms around him and he kisses your head. “I sure hope so. You signed up for this.”

“And I'd never back out,” he smiles, kissing your nose. He looks down at your belly and rubs gently. “Even if you make your mom crazy.”

“Shawn,” you groan and he chuckles.

“Alright I'm done teasing you. We need to get to the appointment with the wedding planner.”

“We need to get our house together too.”

You pull your sundress over your head and fluff your hair out behind you. Shawn gathers and braids it down the back for you before pulling you into a hug.

“Planner first, then lunch, then house? I know it's stressing you out and you need to nest. I promise we'll get it all sorted out today.”

“Pinky promise?”

Shawn hooks his pinky with yours and kisses your cheek. “I always keep my promises.”

“I know,” you rest your head back against his chest.

“Love you the most,” he murmurs, kissing your temple.

“Love you more.”

The End.

______________________________________

Please reblog if you enjoyed it. Please send me feedback via ask, reblog, reply or message. Thank you so much for everyone who supported me while writing this, I never could have done it with out you all. - A.

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #222

Tues Apr 27 2020 [08:12 PM] Wack'd: HERE WE GO. AFTER LIKE EIGHT MONTHS. THE AUSPICIOUS RETURN. [08:12 PM] Wack'd: FANTASTIC FOUR VOL 1 NO 222 [08:12 PM] maxwellelvis: Sound the music [08:13 PM] Umbramatic: huzzah! [08:15 PM] Wack'd: So! We are almost at the John Bryne era, but before we get there, Doug Moench and Bill Sienkiewicz have like ten issues in 'em. [08:16 PM] Wack'd: We open with, uh. Sue Storm giving her increasingly preteen looking son a horsey ride while wearing a full pantsuit and pearls.

[08:16 PM] Wack'd: It's a choice! [08:18 PM] Wack'd: It's weird seeing Reed being playful...

[08:18 PM] maxwellelvis: Franklin shrank like two feet between cuts here. [08:18 PM] Wack'd: This, though. Weirder. Definitely weirder.

[08:19 PM] maxwellelvis: If I were a gambling man I'd say Franklin got kidnapped by Skrulls or something in the night and hasn't yet realized it yet. [08:21 PM] Wack'd: Reed heads out to the library and Ben joins him since he's on his way to the movies. Reed is very insistent they take a train rather than a cab, because he's worried about finances, but also [08:21 PM] Wack'd: *cough* [08:21 PM] Wack'd: IT'S NINETEEN EIGHTY [08:24 PM] Bocaj: There are trains? [08:24 PM] Wack'd: So we cut directly from this talk of personal finances and energy shortages to

[08:25 PM] Bocaj: I remember it going differently but go off I guess [08:25 PM] Wack'd: Nah she did that [08:26 PM] Bocaj: Dang [08:26 PM] Bocaj: Tough love [08:26 PM] Wack'd: In that annual where he nearly traumatized Franklin to death [08:27 PM] Wack'd: Meanwhile, Johnny's out in Jersey doing some racing! [08:28 PM] Wack'd: Johnny you've had like three love interests since then, also she cheated on you

[08:28 PM] maxwellelvis: Damn you, Pavlov [08:29 PM] Bocaj: With Quicksilver [08:29 PM] Bocaj: Like fuck [08:30 PM] maxwellelvis: I've no idea what she saw in him. [08:30 PM] Bocaj: That’s just. That’s sad. And then she cheated on Quicksilver with a random real estate agent. It’s like a race to the bottom [08:30 PM] maxwellelvis: The only rungs left down from there are like, Blackheart and Irving Forbush. [08:31 PM] Wack'd: Okay Sue two things: 1. his powers aren't the only things he's suppressing, he watched you die like 20 issues ago, take this kid to a therapist

[08:31 PM] Wack'd: 2. "So long as nothing traumatic happens" is just asking for it [08:32 PM] Umbramatic: yeeeeeeeeeeeep [08:33 PM] Wack'd: SPEAK OF A GUY WHOSE NAME IS LITERALLY NICK SCRATCH, YOU KNOW, LIKE THE DEVIL

[08:34 PM] Wack'd: Gdi Sue and Reed, you just left to the door to the *Negative Zone open in a house with a child? Next you're going to tell me you leave guns lying around or put cleaning chemicals in easy-to-reach places or don't put plastic plugs over unused electrical outlets [08:35 PM] Bocaj: They’re bad parents [08:35 PM] Umbramatic: they leave guns in the cleaning chemicals with no plastic plugs over them [08:35 PM] Bocaj: You gotta keep your doors to the antimatter universe locked. That’s just common sense for raising a child [08:36 PM] Wack'd: ...HEY DOES THAT DRAWER HAVE A LOCK ON IT?! I WAS JOKING ABOUT THE GUN THING!!!

[08:37 PM] maxwellelvis: It's 1980, Wack'd; childproofing doesn't exist yet. [08:37 PM] Bocaj: Its juuuuuust a flare gun [08:38 PM] Wack'd: Oh so Franklin can just shoot a ball of fire, cool [08:38 PM] Bocaj: When has a child ever killed anyone or burned down a library with a flare gun [08:38 PM] maxwellelvis: Yep. No seatbelts or booster seats in the Fantasticar either. [08:40 PM] maxwellelvis: Unsafe at Any Speed was published in 1965 and I think by 1980 people still had yet to take it seriously. By the Clinton administration, that changed somewhat... [08:40 PM] Wack'd: Lorrie, you're not missing anything, he was gonna spend the entire time imagining you as his ex

[08:40 PM] maxwellelvis: Must be nice to not have to have a secret identity. [08:40 PM] Bocaj: Saves time [08:41 PM] Bocaj: Don’t have to think of excuses or find a phone booth [08:42 PM] maxwellelvis: What's not so nice is having a secret identity, but your enemies know who you are anyways. S'why Rita Repulsa would have been way more dangerous if it wasn't a kids show. [08:43 PM] Wack'd: 

[08:43 PM] Bocaj: “Oh no, he’s become a teenager!” [08:44 PM] Wack'd: "Easy, Susie, you don't know what you're saying! It's entirely possible that is Franklin, he says weirder shit than this all the time" [08:44 PM] Bocaj: True [08:45 PM] Wack'd: Wow. Uh. Probably not a good sign when the murderous spirit of a dead witch is cheering on your behavior!

[08:45 PM] Bocaj: I see the attempted ironic echo [08:45 PM] Wack'd: (Also, speaking of Franklin saying weirder shit than this, the "I like watching you and momm smooch--yeah [08:45 PM] Bocaj: But both situations were creepy so [08:45 PM] Wack'd: Yeah [08:46 PM] Wack'd: So Reed sends Johnny to fetch Dr. Strange as Franklin starts, uh

[08:47 PM] Umbramatic: FLOATING GUNS [08:47 PM] Wack'd: I swear to good I didn't read this ahead of time. I literally had no idea when I said the gun thing that I was being ironic [08:48 PM] maxwellelvis: To be fair, all the locks in the world would probably have done no good with Franklin's power and Scratch's magic combined. [08:48 PM] Umbramatic: Okay, i believe you. [08:48 PM] Bocaj: Hey Dr Strange! Both he and Reed always think they’re right [08:48 PM] Bocaj: It’s gonna be a hoot [08:48 PM] Umbramatic: (i actually do belive you i just had to link that) [08:50 PM] Wack'd: "I could do it. I could leave him to die. I could let Franklin murder him. I would be blameless...and I would be...free..."

[08:51 PM] Bocaj: HAH! [08:51 PM] Mousa The 14: Sue get possessed too? [08:51 PM] Wack'd: I think she's just in shock. [08:51 PM] maxwellelvis: No, I think Scratch just broke the Franklin Button [08:52 PM] maxwellelvis: He shouldn't'a did that. [08:52 PM] Mousa The 14: Tends to be poor form to possess a child right before his mother’s eyes. [08:53 PM] Wack'd: So Strange is out of town, naturally. But as Johnny leaves a redhaired lady named Desadia spies on him, and places a cryptic phone call to a Nick-Fury-looking guy called Gabriel. That will probably be important later. [08:53 PM] Umbramatic: probably. [08:53 PM] maxwellelvis: There's nothing ominous about those names at all. [08:54 PM] Mousa The 14: Desadia is definitely an uncommon one [08:55 PM] maxwellelvis: If her last name is Marcus, RUN [08:55 PM] Wack'd: Back at the Baxter, Reed snaps Sue out of her shock, which, like. I was honestly hoping she was mad at Reed for hitting her? Or something? [08:55 PM] Mousa The 14: Someone should be [08:55 PM] Bocaj: I’ll be [08:55 PM] Wack'd: I get that it's her kid but it's also Reed's and he's fine! Going into shock is not just a thing women do! [08:56 PM] Mousa The 14: How does Hank “has had some head issues” Pym never live it down but Reed “Man of Action” Richards just gets to do this whenever [08:56 PM] Wack'd: Marvel's First Family [08:56 PM] maxwellelvis: Grandfathering [08:57 PM] maxwellelvis: Nobody wants to be the one who broke them up for good. [08:57 PM] Wack'd: Johnny returns and he has a solution which is also the only solution he has to most problems [08:57 PM] Mousa The 14: Burning it? [08:57 PM] maxwellelvis: FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! [08:57 PM] Wack'd: He just...melts the entire fucking room to slag, yeah [08:57 PM] Wack'd: Because hey, no more weapons, right? [08:57 PM] Mousa The 14: God dammit, Johnny [08:57 PM] Mousa The 14: I mean yes that’s technically true but [08:58 PM] Mousa The 14: Other people are around [08:58 PM] Wack'd: Then they do what they only didn't do from the beginning because gotta make Sue look weak [08:58 PM] Wack'd: Shove Franklin in a force field and shoot him fulla sedatives

[08:59 PM] Wack'd: Some exceptional faces on Franklin this issue, gotta say [08:59 PM] Wack'd: Though he kind of has a Little Lord Fauntleroy thing going on in that first panel [08:59 PM] Bocaj: Maybe reed should try lobotomizing him again [09:00 PM] Bocaj: Worked out fine the first time [09:00 PM] Umbramatic: reed's face there reminds me of seasons greasons [09:00 PM] Wack'd: We don't talk about Conway anymore. 😛 [09:01 PM] maxwellelvis: Has Scratch given any indication that he's the one possessing Franklin? [09:01 PM] Wack'd: Not really [09:01 PM] maxwellelvis: Like announced his presence? [09:01 PM] Wack'd: But they figure they should bring him to Agatha's anyway. [09:01 PM] maxwellelvis: So for all they know he just did this on his own. [09:01 PM] maxwellelvis: FINALLY [09:04 PM] Mousa The 14: It’s a possession even if it’s not old scratch they know they need a magical solution [09:04 PM] Wack'd: I love that Reed starts this page having a séance around a pentagram and ends it declaring that actually this is all highly scientific

[09:04 PM] maxwellelvis: I just mean why's she second? [09:04 PM] maxwellelvis: "HAIL SCIENCE!" [09:04 PM] Wack'd: Also we're just going to trust this guy who none of you have ever met who just wandered in here out of nowhere, that's cool [09:05 PM] Mousa The 14: Yeah that’s weird. [09:05 PM] Mousa The 14: Like what are his credentials? A single eye and a white streak? [09:05 PM] Wack'd: In fairness that's more than Dr Strange has [09:06 PM] Mousa The 14: If he’s not blonde, in a trench coat, with a working class accent then this is not the man you’re looking for [09:06 PM] Mousa The 14: Good point, Wack’d [09:06 PM] maxwellelvis: Yeah, but Dr. Strange looks like Vincent Price [09:06 PM] Mousa The 14: However Dr. Strange has a doctorate [09:06 PM] Wack'd: A Doctorate Against the Dark Arts [09:06 PM] Mousa The 14: Hah! [09:06 PM] maxwellelvis: Daimon Hellstrom has a pentagram on his chest and goes around at all times without a shirt on, AND his hair goes up in devil points. [09:06 PM] maxwellelvis: 🥁 [09:08 PM] Bocaj: Look if you want to fight demons you gotta ditch the dead weight like shirts [09:08 PM] Wack'd: Why was this guy necessary? What was he doing that Agatha couldn't have? Just from a sheer plot construction point of view I don't understand what this man's utility is besides "someone besides a woman fixes this problem"

[09:09 PM] maxwellelvis: I guess we'll find out next issue? [09:09 PM] Mousa The 14: Maybe this is his backdoor pilot for a comic that never took off [09:09 PM] Wack'd: You know what, that seems likely [09:09 PM] Wack'd: He's got kind of a Gary Seven energy to him [09:09 PM] Mousa The 14: They did that quite a bit with the FF if I recall [09:10 PM] maxwellelvis: Namor, the Black Panther, those are just the examples that worked. [09:10 PM] Mousa The 14: Using the some of the  2 in ones or whatever to help enhance whoever’s book was failing [09:10 PM] maxwellelvis: The Inhumans too. [09:10 PM] maxwellelvis: @Mousa The 14 Or to conclude a series that was cut short prematurely. [09:10 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, next issue: field trip to New Salem! [09:10 PM] Mousa The 14: Indeed [09:10 PM] Wack'd: Speaking of series cut prematurely short, it's letters page time! [09:11 PM] Wack'd: Our first letter is from Chris Wells of Brooklyn, who was apparently very concerned that we's never find out what happened to Dr. Sun from Nova! [09:11 PM] Wack'd: Because as we all know, Fantastic Four would never forget about a plot point involving an evil golden robot. [09:11 PM] Bocaj: Return of the revenge of new Salem [09:12 PM] Wack'd: He also was happy to see HERBIE go even though he didn't hate him as much as he thought he would. And wants Johnny and Dazzler to hang out more. [09:13 PM] Wack'd: The next letter is all praise for Bill Mantlo. Folks...really liked HERBIE's heroic death? Even though it was a relic of a plotline that really never went anywhere and only existed because of a crossover with a book no one seemed to like [09:14 PM] maxwellelvis: And involving a character I thought nobody liked, too. [09:14 PM] maxwellelvis: Guess it's all in the telling. [09:14 PM] Wack'd: Every letter on this page is just "I hated HERBIE, but his death made me cry!" [09:14 PM] Wack'd: No accounting for taste I guess [09:15 PM] Bocaj: That’s what happened with Cipher too [09:15 PM] Wack'd: Adric Syndrome [09:15 PM] Bocaj: Not bill, Doug [09:15 PM] maxwellelvis: Forced to kill him off, she made sure EVERYONE felt bad about wishing him dead. [09:16 PM] maxwellelvis: How DID Cipher die, anyway? [09:16 PM] Wack'd: Tragic sign language accident [09:19 PM] Bocaj: He got shot with a bullet from a gun [09:19 PM] Bocaj: Saving Wolfsbane I beleive

[eirian-houpe]

The Library Beneath the Clock Tower - Chapter 6

Fandom:  Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Gaston (Once Upon a Time)

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Widow Lucas | Granny, Grumpy | Leroy, Maurice | Moe French

Additional Tags: Bookshop On the Corner, slightly AU, Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed (Once Upon a Time), Eventual Smut

Summary: Storybrooke has no library, and neither does Belle, not since the library where she worked in Boston discovered her past as an inpatient at a mental hospital. Taking her future into her own hands, Belle travels to Storybrooke where her intention is to open up the town library, but all does not go according to her plan. Obstacles and false starts, and diversion along very wrong pathways interrupt her journey toward fulfilling her dream, as well as taking her rightful place and becoming a part of the Storybrooke community.

Read on AO3:

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

Chapter 6 - Going Home

There was simply no way that her luggage allowance on the bus to Storybrooke would allow her to pack everything she wanted to. Still, Bellemade sure she left room among her clothes for some of the many books that were still piled (although now mostly in boxes) around Ruby’s apartment.

Ruby had agreed that she would look after them until Belle could find a way to get them to the small town in Maine, though for the record, told Belle that she still thought she was insane.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” she asked.  “What if you can’t find a place to live? You gonna camp out in the library after closing time?  String a hammock between the stacks or something?”

“No,” Belle couldn’t help the way her voice rose and fell on the end of her denial, wondering if, in fact, that was what she might have to end up doing.  Her severance, and her accrued pay in lieu of vacation and sick time would only last so long, and that would be a drastically reduced time if she had to rely on keeping a room at Granny’s Bed and Breakfast.  She decided that she would give herself a week, two at the absolute most, to find somewhere in Storybrooke to put down roots and call her own. “Besides,” she added sheepishly, “I haven’t actually seen inside the library yet.  I don’t know if the stacks even exist.”

“Okay, now I know you’re insane,” Ruby said with a roll of her eyes that while playful, Belle knew held a serious note of concern for her born of their friendship through the last… Belle blinked. Had she really known Ruby for so long? “What was the name of that doctor of yours again?”

“Not funny.” Belle knew that Ruby was only teasing, but the comment hit a little too close to home. Ruby gave her an apologetic look.

“Call me when you get settled, yeah?” she said squeezing Belle’s arm. “And as soon as you’re fit for visitors you better bet your ass, I’m coming to crash your pad. You know that right?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” Belle said and smiled at her friend.

Belle sighed as the passing countryside, growing increasingly more wooded and less like one endless highway, heralded their imminent arrival in Storybrooke. She found herself getting quietly excited, in a nervous kind of way, anticipating taking long walks through the surrounding woodlands.  As she gazed through the window at the passing scenery, she was surprised to see what looked like some kind of farm buildings tucked away in a cleared area among the trees. She hadn’t noticed it before, and wondered what other secrets Storybrook kept hidden away in its woods.

The bus slowed, taking a few bends in the road carefully, and then picked up speed again enough that the sign reading Welcome to Storybrooke flashed past like an almost subliminal, personal message.

All too soon, the forest gave way to scattered buildings, larger on the outskirts of the town, one or two almost mansion-like, and then to more closely populated neighborhood streets. Belle couldn’t help but wonder who lived where, and what each of the residents might like to read - should they come into the library of course.  The closer they got to the middle of town, the more people Belle spotted walking around, going about their day to day business. She thought they probably all knew one another, as was the way of things in small towns - or so most of the books she’d read had always led the reader to believe - but she, herself, had only ever lived in a densely populated city, where people kept themselves to themselves, and their own business private, and she’d only ever been able to be a part of anything approaching the slightest of connections with others - and thus feel at home - while working in the library.

The thought of the library made her turn her head to instinctively seek out the Town of Storybrooke Free Public Library, still boarded up and standing forlornly at the intersection of the two main streets running through the town.  It was the literal center of the town, it should have been the town’s heart.

Belle smiled, then.  If this was really happening, and not something that was ‘too good to be true’ then she’d soon see to it that the boards came off and she gave the town back its heartbeat.

The hiss of hydraulic brakes and the bus suddenly lurching to a stop pulled Belle from her daydreaming just as the overhead display, and the automatic voice announced the town’s name, and she got up from her seat, grabbing her coat, her backpack and her purse from the rack overhead.  As she stepped down from the interior of the bus and onto the sidewalk, the driver was just setting down her oversized suitcase onto the cracked concrete beside the pole that marked the stop. Belle reached into her pocket to pull out the few bills she had slipped in there to tip him.  He gave her a smile, nodded, and then climbed back aboard. The doors closed, and the bus pulled away as Belle shouldered her backpack and turned to gaze across the four way intersection of her new home.

She shivered then, wishing she’d thought to put on her coat before stepping out into the very fresh air, but even that couldn’t dampen the sense of excitement and adventure that was suddenly bubbling in her stomach. Turning, she grabbed the handle of the heavy suitcase, and began pulling it along toward the welcome lights of Granny’s diner.  She’d get herself settled first, before she went dashing madly to investigate her new library, even though that was all she wanted to do.

The patio was empty, which was hardly surprising given the quickly falling temperature of the early afternoon. She could see, however, that inside of the diner, Granny was doing a very brisk trade, and wondered whether she should have gone to the library after all. Still, she was there now, so she pulled open the door and struggled her way inside, trying to tug the heavy case up the steps.

“Belle!”

Granny’s voice made her stop mid struggle, in time to see the elderly woman cuff one of her patrons around the back of the head as though he were an errant son, and the man got up and came over to bring her case inside, and on Granny’s wordless nod, out through the rear of the diner, to where the steps to the bed and breakfast were accessible.  Granny came over to greet Belle properly, with a hug.

“You look half famished, girl,” she said.  “Let’s get something warm inside you. Leroy said you might be coming in the next day or so, so I got your old room ready for you.”

“Oh, Granny, thank you.  I didn’t expect you to go to such trouble.” Belle said.

“Ah, it’s no trouble,” Granny waved off the comment. “Not for our new librarian.” she smiled, and then as if suddenly remembering, added, “Which reminds me…”

From the pocket of her apron she pulled out a small black box of the kind in which a museum gift shop might package a necklace or other trinket, around which a piece of white ribbon had been somewhat artfully tied.

She handed it to Belle and said, “Someone… dropped this off for you at the front desk.”

Frowning in confusion, Belle set down her backpack beside the counter, pulled at the ribbon to unfasten the bow, and then opened up the box. Her face cracked into a huge grin.

Inside, lying on a thin layer of cotton placed in the bottom, was a single key, attached to a circular key chain, and on the circle, written in a neat and flowing script, was a single word: Library.

[commander-rahrah]

RESIDENCY (AN OPEN HEART FIC): PART TWO

Pairing: MC (Jordynne Holland) X Ethan Ramsey X Bryce Lahela; MC X Bryce; MC X Ethan

Masterlist: Click Here

Chapter Rating: T (Swearing)

Word Count: 3000+

Description: Jordynne first day at Edenbrook continues, she finds herself finding a moment with Ethan in front of a vending machine and things get hot and heavy in a supply closet. What is it with this hospital? 

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Jordynne’s background is my own creation, based loosely off of MC in-game’s personality and provided with more details.

Author’s Note: Here comes part two. I was wrecked after today’s chapter so I couldn’t help just want to power through with my story. A little bit of a filler chapter I won’t lie, but I like to describe what characters are thinking during scenes shown in-game, etc. ALSO, Bryce x MC does happen in my story, because I live for delicious drama and jealousy that will be building between Ethan and Bryce. 

Taglist: @drakewalkerfantasy @owleyes374 @professorortegasstudent thank you so much requesting to be tagged in upcoming parts! Feel free to reply on chapters, or send DMs if you would like to be tagged for updates! 

If you haven’t read part one, you can find it here 

PART TWO:

Walking down the brightly lit hallway, Jordynne slowed her pace for a moment — attempting to use this time as a tiny break. It had been a hectic first day at Edenbrook. First, she was thrown into an emergency thoracotomy in the middle of the waiting room with her medical inspiration, Doctor Ethan Ramsey, who then reprimanded her. She still couldn’t believe it had happened — she had met him before orientation had even started. She had to admit, the little picture in his bio on the back of his textbook did not do him justice. But handsome or not, he was a complete asshole to her. She needed another shot to prove herself to him — she was not just so dumb intern. Second of all, her “partner” Doctor Aurora Emery was off doing god knows what with the Chief, leaving Jordynne completely alone with their first patient. She hadn’t expected to be best friends with anyone right away, but she at least thought they would have each other’s backs in this — but Aurora was cold.

Stopping in her tracks, Jordynne realized she had gotten lost in her thoughts and had absolutely no idea where she was anymore. This is nowhere near Room 532. She thought to herself. Looking over her shoulder, she tried to spot something familiar — a nurse’s station, elevator, anything — when something solid ran right into her.

“Oompf!”  She let out, as she staggered back a bit. She tried hard not to lose her balance. The other person did lose their footing however, and a large thud echoed down the hallway as the textbook they were reading fell to the floor.

“My bad!! I’m so sorry!” Jordynne blurted out, grabbing onto the young doctor to steady him.

“No, no, I’m sorry, that was probably my fault. I was too busy reading my book.” He said apologetically. Jordynne recognized him from the orientation this morning. He seemed to recognize her too. “Hey, I saw you at orientation. Jordynne Holland, right? I’m Landry… Landry Olsen.”

Bending over, she picks up his textbook still laying on the ground. When she flipped over the textbook, she noticed the cover and a grin broke out over her face. “Whoa, you’re reading Diagnostic Principles by Ethan Ramsey?”

“Yeah, I totally worship the guy. Shrine in my basement and everything.” When Jordynne didn’t laugh right away he panicked. “Kidding! I’m kidding. I never know if it’s clear when I’m joking.”

She let out a chuckle, “I got it. But they do say never meet your heroes…”

Realization dawned on Landry’s face. “Wait! It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the intern who did the thoracotomy with him this morning?”

Jordynne’s face flushed in embarrassment. Did the whole hospital know? “Yeah. And he ripped me a new one in front of everyone. It was so unbelievably —“

But he cut her off. “Lucky!!! Ethan Ramsey actually talked to you! Ugh, this is what I get for getting to work an hour early.”

“I mean, I came to work early too. Just was in the right place I guess.” Jordynne shrugged.

“If I saw him in person, I’d probably just…” His voice trailed off as his face froze, his eyes going wide.

“Yeah, it was pretty intimidating but…” She furrowed her eyebrows at the intern. “Landry? You okay?”

Moving his hand, he points behind her with his eyes still wide. Looking over her shoulder, Jordynne spotted Dr. Ramsey speaking with a nurse down the hall. Her stomach fluttered. Her eyes went as wide as Landry’s when Ramsey spotted her and started walking over.

“Oh crap! Uh oh, he’s coming this way. Hide me!” Jordynne started to panic, looking around for somewhere to dip into.

“Hide you?! Hide me!” His face was flushed red, his words sputtering.

Realizing how they must look, Jordynne suddenly straightened up and set her shoulders back. “Ugh! What am I doing? I can’t let my first day go like this! I’m… I’m going to go talk to him.” She said, her face filling with a new found resolve.

Landry’s mouth hung open. “The man once tore apart the research of the A.M.A.’s president… during the president’s keynote address! Are you sure about this?”

A giant grin spread across Jordynne’s face, “Nope! But I’m doing this. Hey, let me borrow your copy of his book?” She grabbed it from his outstretched hand and started marching down the hall towards Doctor Ramsey. She slowed her steps as he was speaking with an elderly patient, who was sitting in her wheelchair in front of the door to her room.

“I’m not going to ask you again, Barb.” He said patiently, his voice gentle.

The woman’s voice echoed down the hall, “Forget about it, Dr. Ramsey! I’m busting outta this joint! I’ll tie the bedsheets together and rappel out of the window!”

A warm chuckle escaped him, “Don’t wait up on my account. In fact, I might break out of here with you.”

She glowered at his laughter, “I mean it! I don’t have my favorite armchair, and I’m bored without my puzzles!”

“And I’m bored of your excuses, Barb.” He set his hands on his hips, attempting to take control back in the conversation. “Whine all you want, I’m not going anywhere until you take your medication.” A scowl broke across his face as she crossed her arms at him, and huffed.

Muttering to himself, he turned around to the vending machine across the way — fiddling in his pants pocket for his wallet. Pulling out a dollar bill, he slid it into the machine before standing in front of it, his arms folded around him. He didn’t move to touch another button.

Jordynne tightened her ponytail before sidling up next to him. “Um. Hi, Dr. Ramsey.” She said nervously.

He eyed her for a moment, before turning back to the vending machine. “Rookie.”

She glanced at Landry, who was watching from down the hall — hiding behind a crash cart. “I was hoping you might sign my book.”

The corners of his mouth flickered down, “Autographs? Don’t you have work to be doing? Or at least another attending to irritate?”

She couldn’t help the smirk that spread across her pink lips. “No, just you.”

His eyes flashed to her smile. It was contagious. He forced his mouth into a straight line. “I should have guessed. Well, if you have something else to say, then say it.” His eyes went back to the line of snacks in the machine.

“I just wanted to tell you I won’t let you down again.”

Ramsey still didn’t look back at her, his words coming back quickly. “You can see the future? If so, you make a remarkable physician.”

She furrowed her brows, “I just meant —“

“You will let me down again, Rookie. What’s more, you’ll let yourself down. Over and over.” He finally turned to face her, crossing his arms back over his chest. “But what matters is that you get back on your feet each and every time, and push yourself to be better.”

She nodded at him, letting what he said sink in. She noticed him turning back to the vending machine, and she followed his line of sight. His eyes kept flickering back to the chocolate bar in the top corner. She let out a playful sigh, joining him in front of the machine again. “I was always a Geysers Exploding Fruit Snacks girl myself.”

He shook his head at her, finding the neon colored fruit snacks in the machine. They looked like a child’s snack. “That’s truly fascinating, but I’m not —“

But she cut him off. “I know you’re not getting something for yourself. You’re trying to pick something to cheer up Barbara in there, right?”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, “How’d you figure that?”

“Just paying attention,” She said matter of factly. “You know, I bet I could pick out just the thing.” She bent over, moving her face closer to the vending machine so she could look at all the options.

Ethan let out a laugh, “I doubt it. Barbara’s even more stubborn than you.”

Jordynne swallowed when she heard him say that. He thought she was stubborn? He thought about her?

“She’s refused to take her pills for two days.” But he waved his hand towards the machine, “Be my guest. It’s a hopeless endeavor.”

Making her decision, Jordynne finally pressed a button and the machine dropped out a packet of hot chocolate. Grabbing it, she headed to the nearby nurse station and came back with a styrofoam cup steaming with hot cocoa. She held it out for Ethan, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“Hot chocolate?” He furrowed his eyebrows at her, “How exactly is this supposed to—“

She moved the cup out towards him again, “Just give it to her. Trust me.”

Their fingers grazed as he took the cup from her, a familiar sense of electricity shooting up Jordynne’s hand. She had felt it when he had grabbed her to help with the incision this morning. Chewing on the inside of her lip, she waited for Dr. Ramsey to come back out of Barbara’s room. When he did, she couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the perplexed look on his face.

“It worked… That got her to take her pills. I can’t believe it.” He eyed her up, “So, are you gonna tell me how you worked that one out?”

A wicked smile spread across her face, “A girl’s gotta have some secrets.”

He put his hands on his hips, “You’re really going to hold out on me?”

She bit her pink lip, “I’m going for an air of mystery. Is it working?”

Ethan’s eyes settled on the action, and he tried to hide his gulp. “Mildly.”

She felt her belly get warm at his reaction, and she smiled. Noticing, the two quarters change sitting at the bottom of the vending machine, she reached down and took them.

“I know interns don’t make a lot, but you’re that desperate for cash?” Ethan joked.

She rolled her green eyes at him, before digging in her own pocket. She pulled out some other coins, and slide them into the machine. Hiding her selection, she bent down and grabbed another snack from the bottom slit. Facing Ethan, she held out the chocolate bar for him to see.

His eyes flickered to it, before staring back at her. “And who is that for?” He asked.

“You.” She smiled, tossing it to him.

He caught it quickly, confusion filling his face.

“Saw you kept staring at it earlier. You know, it’s okay to treat yourself sometimes.”

Ethan stared at her shiny lips and the V in her blouse. Gulping again, his eyes shifted to the chocolate in his hands, wrapping his fingers around it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

A smile spread across her face, and she turned on her heel to leave.

“Wait,” He grabbed onto her elbow softly, turning her around. He pointed to his textbook in the crook of her other arm, “Give it here.” Grabbing the book, he clicked his pen before scrawling inside the front cover. He gave it back to her, a smile playing at his lips. “Now get back to work, Holland.”

Holland. There it was again — he used her name, not “Rookie”.  She blinked at him, a little taken aback, “You remembered my name?”

“Just paying attention.” He echoed her from earlier, before walking off in the opposite direction.

Wandering back to Landry, she opened the book up, “Don’t let me down. — Dr. Ethan Ramsey”. She smiled to herself as she read it.

Handing the book back to Landry, he opened it up and gasped. “You’re still alive! And… I can’t believe it. You got my copy signed!” His fingers skimmed over the autography, “Whoa… That inscription is intense… and I absolutely love it!” In his excitement, he grabbed onto Jordynne in an awkward hug.

The beeping of her pager broke her back to reality. “Come on. I’m getting paged, and I dunno about you, but I’m still completely lost…”

“Oh, I can help you! I memorized the layout of the hospital as soon as I got word my application was accepted.” Landry said excitedly, before leading the way.

_______________________________________________________________________

“What the hell is going on in here, Rookie?” Dr Ramsey stood in the door frame, his eyebrows furrowed and a scowl on his face.

“Oh, Doctor Ramsey!” Jordynne gulped but continued her compressions. “She was allergic to the antibiotics I prescribed.”

His face softened a little at her honest answer, “Well at least you’re taking responsibility. Sometimes patients don’t know about their own allergies. That’s why you always have to be cautious.”

As she spoke, Jackie injected the epi-pen into Annie’s thigh, and the patient took in a shuddering gasp of air. “Ok, now we can intubate.” She grabbed onto the breathing tube.

Doctor Ramsey watched Jackie intently, “Excellent work, Doctor…?”

“Varma.”

He crossed his arms at her, “You were assigned to this case?”

Jackie’s eyes flickered to Jordynne. “No, I was passing and heard Dr. Holland call for a code blue.”

“The patient’s very lucky you were here. I’m not confident Dr. Holland could have handled this alone.” He glared at Jordynne.

Biting her lip, Jackie glanced back at Jordynne — unsure of what to do. “Thank you. Just doing my job, Dr. Ramsey.”

Jordynne looked down, nodding her head. “Dr. Varma really bailed me out. I couldn’t have done it without her. Thank you, Dr. Varma.”

The two met eyes — Jackie realizing she just took full credit for the save. Her eyebrows furrowed a little, wondering why Jordynne did that. “Anytime…”

Ramsey studied the two before speaking, “Dr. Varma you should return to your own patients.”

Jackie ducked her head down as she left the room. “Yes, Doctor.”

Moving into the room more, Ramsey stepped towards Jordynne. “And you… you need to have a long, hard think about whether or not you’re ready to be here.” His blue eyes were steady, he didn’t blink. “It doesn’t matter that it’s your first day, or that you’re still learning. Whether this girl lives or dies is on you.”

Jordynne felt her heart climb up into her throat. “I know, Dr. Ramsey.” She choked out. She thought back to the Ramsey who she had been laughing with just an hour before. That was long gone now.

“You still have no idea what’s wrong with her, and your first effort nearly killed her. This is the real world. No room for mistakes —“

A perky voice interrupted him, “Hi! Dr. Ramsey, sorry to interrupt.”

He inhaled sharply through his nose, “For the love of god, what now?” He whipped around to face the petite doctor.

“One of the nurses told me… that one of the other interns told them… that one of the doctors said…”

His anger flared. “Get. To. The. Point.”

She gulped, “Dr. Toussaint needs to see you urgently!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ramsey muttered something underneath his breath. Moving to the door, he paused to turn to speak once more. “Remember what I said, Rookie. Next time I see you, you’d better have solved this case.” He pointed his finger at Annie’s unconscious body, before stalking away.

A shaky breath escaped Jordynne as Dr. Ramsey left the room. She tried to blink and pay attention as the petite intern started talking to her, but her mind was swimming with Ramsey's words. The intern, Doctor Sienna Trinh, did her best to cheer Jordynne up — inviting her to join her and some others at a bar near the hospital after their shift. She agreed, but she still just couldn’t shake Ramsey’s words.

_______________________________________________

An hour later Jordynne found herself in a dark supply closet, tears welling in her eyes. Ramsey’s words and Annie’s unconscious face kept replaying in her mind as she helped her other patients. Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm herself down when suddenly the door opened. She froze as the surgical intern from this morning in the locker room walked in.

“I feel like I’m interrupting something,” Bryce said, shutting the door behind him quickly at the sight Jordynne.

Her breath hitched a little at the sight of the surgical intern. The image of him half-naked from earlier in the morning was seared into her mind. Was that really just this morning? The day was starting to feel so long that meeting him felt like days ago.

She had to admit — he was hot. Like Instagram model, lead in a romcom hot. Jordynne usually wasn’t the type to care about looks but, god was he cute. And funny. Was she still thinking? Had she said any words to him yet? She wiped at her eyes, making sure no tears had fallen down her cheeks.

He squeezed in next to her, his eyes filled with concern when he noticed her gesture. “Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong?” He grabbed onto the sides of her shoulders.

“My first patient almost died. It was my fault…” She shook her head, her blonde ponytail waving, “Maybe… maybe I’m not cut out for this. I’ve dreamt of doing it my entire life… but that doesn’t mean I’m ready.”

Bryce’s thick brows furrowed, “Wow. You managed four years of med school, but four hours here and you’re surrendering? Didn’t take you for a quitter.”

Her eyes flashed up to his, “You just met me.”

He smirked, “True. But if every hospital employee who ever hid in a supply closet quit, there’d be nobody here but the patients.”

She felt defensive suddenly, “No offense, but what do you know about it?”

Despite her tone, he still smiled at her,” Let’s just say this isn’t the first supply closet I found a stressed-out doctor in today.”

She looked him up and down, “Well, you don’t seem overwhelmed. So what do I do? How do I handle it all?”

He shrugged, “You’ve got two options. One, breeze through life with an unshakable self-assurance like me. Or, two… ride it out.”

Jordynne let out a chuckle, “Ride it out? That’s not the great advice you think it is.”

His face turned serious, “Of course you’re overwhelmed. You’re a doctor. It’s one of the toughest jobs there is, and you’re on your first day. If you don’t give yourself a chance to make mistakes, to get better… nobody else will.”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

“Good,” He smiled, “Because I’d hate to lose you so quick. Is there anything else you need?” His hand moved down her forearm.

She shivered at the touch, “I could probably use a hug.” She laughed.

"Alright, come here.” He opened his arms and pulled her into him.

Jordynne leaned into the gesture — his warm arms wrapping around her easily. He smelled salty and warm — sunny like a beach. She rested her cheek against his strong shoulder, closing her eyes for a moment. “This is nice. You’re a pretty good hugger.”

His chuckle reverberated through him, and she felt it through his chest. “One of my many talents.”

Moving her face back, her green eyes met his brown ones. The pair both realized how close they really were.

“Hey, wait a second. Was this just a plot of yours to get me alone in here?” He laughed, but the sound was muffled as Jordynne crashed her lips onto his.

A surprised noise escaped Bryce’s mouth before he returned her kiss. He grabbed onto her hips, pulling her into him as he deepened it. The kiss turned hard, and he pressed her up against the storage room shelves — boxes and supplies falling to the floor at their feet.

Usually, a million things were rushing through Jordynne’s head — but at that moment all she could think about was his lips on hers. She wrapped her leg around his side, pulling him in tighter as their kisses turned more frantic. “God, you’re incredible…”.

Jordynne felt her face flush at his comment. She hadn’t kissed anyone since her ex Brooks, back in Oregon. And she had to admit, she had missed this. She felt Bryce’s fingers slip underneath her lab coat, toying with the hem of her blouse before inching it upwards.

The door opened, and Jordynne stiffened up. Bryce however, kept his hands on her — moving his body to cover hers from sight. “Could we get some privacy, man?”

It was a Resident. “Oh, by all means. I’m so sorry to intrude! I’ll just wait out here till you’re done. Of, if I may be so bold… might you hand me a suture kit?”

Bryce reached over the top of Jordynne, grabbing a box and tossed it back to the Resident. He flashed him a megawatt smile.

“Much obliged.” The Resident said through gritted teeth, before slamming the closet door shut.

A breath escaped Jordynne, “Maaaaaaybe we should get back to work.”

He didn’t move his hands from her waist, “That guy did kinda kill the mood, huh?” He finally let her go — running his hands through his mop of hair. Pausing at the door, Bryce bit his lip and looked her up and down one more time. “Hope I cheered you up a little.”

Jordynne couldn’t help the smile on her face, “Just a little.”

He winked one his brown eyes, before shutting the door behind him.

Sighing deeply, she leaned against the supply shelves — thinking. This was the strangest first day ever.

Part Three

[colorofmymindposts]

Hope for the Stars

Fandom: Doctor Who 

Pairings: Twelfth Doctor/Missy

Warnings: Major Character Death, Alternate Ending to series 10, Major Canon Divergence, Description of a Corpse 

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Status: Complete but part three of my The Doctor Falls series. Reading part one is pretty optional but I definitely recommend checking out part two before reading this. 

Word Count: 2134 

Chapter: 1/2. 

Summary: A final goodbye between the oldest friends in the universe seems as though it's the last chapter. But with the Doctor, every end comes with a beginning.

Tags: Heavy Angst, Messy Feelings, Coping with Death, Funeral, Grieving Missy, Twelve is very dead

I don’t know if the tagging system is still messed up, but you can read this work on ao3 under my username colorofmymind! Kudos and comments will be much appreciated!

The silence is deafening, save for the intermittent low hums of the TARDIS. Her hands drift and glide over the console as she circles round it, making no effort to start for any destination. A destination would require a plan. Missy has none.

What was the original plan, exactly? Redeem herself in everyone’s eyes, and then? No more tentative friendship. Renew their pact. Midnight, with the stars and him. It had been absolutely too vague, almost totally meaningless. And yet it was something. Now, there is nothing, no friend, without hope, without witness.

“Without reward, indeed,” Missy chokes out, voice hoarse from disuse and grief, realizing now she never precisely knew what that meant until this moment. Her death at least would have allowed her to escape from the shallow, crude reality of it all. Missy makes the mistake of looking down at the Doctor’s lifeless body. The sight alone is enough for her hands to tremor, knees to buckle, eyes to water and weep openly, now that the privacy allows for it. It takes much more time than she’d like to find the lapels of his jacket, fisting them in her hands for purchase. It doesn’t do much other than prevent her from strangling him, or herself.

“You absolute imbecile!” she cries out, venom behind each word. “I would have stayed here, the Vault, anywhere you would have liked for the rest of those thousand years! Two thousand even. You’d be there at least. You’d be alive.

But we were always so impatient, weren’t we? We couldn’t keep to the confines of Gallifrey or the Vault. We just wanted the universe. I wanted you.” Those last three words fall out her mouth without her permission, and she knows full well what she communicated with them. The humans always wait, desperate for that confession, that one word: love. There isn’t even a comparable translation for it in Gallifreyan; what is the need of such a word to Time Lords? Time Lords are supposed to have two hearts that are full of nothing.  

She wants to rip her hearts right out of her chest, stamp them into mincemeat under her boots, and wail with the confidence and indignity of a newborn babe until she keels over. Or maybe she could cut her hearts out, carefully, scientifically, and transplant them into the Doctor, make him breathe, live again; he could cry over her body, but at least that’d be familiar for the both of them.

Death is for other people, dear. Missy said that, once. She never dreamt that the Doctor would number among the others.

The grip she has on him slackens. With complete gracelessness and depravity, Missy collapses on top of him, her chest on his, face burying into the crook of his neck. The endless propulsion of loss and guilt wracks her body; the tears flow out as quickly as the notes to Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 20 in D minor K. 466 - 1. Allegro, one of the Doctor’s favorites that she used to play on the piano. The piano he gifted to her. Missy cannot form words even if she tries. So heavy is this sense of finality, and she’s drowning under it. Her friend is dead. Time levels and undulates and then ceases to be around them, and all Missy is aware of is the uncontrollable shaking and the gasping and crying like she’s being gutted from the inside out for existing at all and the fact that he’s gone, gone, gone forever and she’s the only one left...

It’s some time later that Missy finally awakens next to the Doctor, colder than he’s ever been. It’s not really him, she reminds herself. His essence, the playful and wonderful mind, they’re gone. Could she reclaim them, she would. She should, really. It’s the least she can do when this whole monumentally stupid test to prove herself was the very reason they had found themselves in that disaster, created by her former self, no less. Resurrection has its risks though, this she knows. The potential for a miscalculation or chemical imbalance is extremely high, and his entire body could irrevocably malform; of course the safer alternative, transferring the consciousness into a living host, is something the Doctor would have never even entertained whereas the Master had, ever so frequently when in a tight spot, regrettable now in retrospect.

The stinging pain in her back and abdomen from the Laser Screwdriver has lessened slightly with her rest, but her eyes feel terribly sore and dry from what was probably the greatest lapse into emotional breakdown of her life. There are no more tears to cry, now. Missy picks herself up, squeezing the Doctor’s hand before standing only to find it has become extremely stiff with the onset of rigor mortis. The realization leaves her nauseous and quite wishing she hadn’t done that.  

That does bring up the present dilemma. What to do with his body. A Time Lord’s body, particularly the DNA, would be a precious asset to almost any alien species. Burial and cryogenic freezing are right out then. The Doctor will have to burn.  

Somehow, she still manages to hobble over to the TARDIS console with that thought on her mind, pulling on the levers and buttons by mere muscle memory. Already, Missy has the perfect idea for the location for the Doctor’s funeral, a strange thing to be sentimental about, but if he were still part of the universe, she thinks he would appreciate it.  

“I’m almost certain you never prepared for this, my dear,” Missy begins, completely aware that the Doctor can no longer hear or respond to her. “I’m not talking about death, no, you practically begged for it when you were feeling particularly morose. What comes after is what I mean. Did you really think you could lie on a battlefield and that just be the end? It should take no more than a few centuries for a human exploratory crew or some other ship to find you with all your DNA and unleash terror on the universe. That just won’t do, not when you’ve put so much work into the place.”

The whole monologue was meant to calm her down, but she’s made an all too rational point. This is a universe without the Doctor, and it has been such a very long time since that was the reality. What will happen now, without that man roaming the stars, trying to bring kindness and goodness to the places and people he visits? As flawed as he could be while doing it, a small voice inside her offers.    

“Because one day everyone's just going to need you too much.” Bill was right. The universe will never survive without the Doctor.

The TARDIS hums somewhat admonishingly, and suddenly the psychic link is made between her and the ship, and a flurry of images and memories are the sole occupiers of her thoughts: the TARDIS landing unannounced and needing help for some unknown reason, Missy’s constant maintenance of the TARDIS, Missy trying to find a way out of the TARDIS doors to help the Doctor and his companions when he was about to sacrifice himself to the Cairn gate, and the moment she stepped out of those same doors declaring confidently “Hello I’m Doctor Who.”

Oh. Oh.

Missy smiles and tuts quietly at the now reicent sentient machine. Being, she corrects herself mentally. After, she and this Type 40 are going to have to get along if this is to work.

“You knew well before any of us, didn’t you? Oh, you clever girl,” she purrs.

The ship creaks and groans upon arriving to their destination. In all fairness, this is the most hectic point in time and space besides the literal end of the universe, and Missy’s been there before. Placing the stabilizers on as a precaution, Missy retreats down one of the corridors, hoping she’ll find what she’s looking for.

“Ah, there you are,” she says upon finding it. The casket’s exterior shines just as brightly as the wood from whence it came: the silver trees of Gallifrey. Adorning the side panels are the traditional Gallifreyan rites for the deceased. Measurements in this case are not necessary; Time Lord technology has once again thought ahead to accomodate for any particular regeneration--the dimensions are bigger on the inside. It’s a difficult task for someone of her stature and injured status to not drag the damned thing on the console flooring, but she manages it for the Doctor’s sake alone.

Upon placing the casket next to him, however, she cannot seem to find the strength in the moment to lift him into it and send him away for good. A hand of hers secures itself on one of the handles on the console to ascertain that she does not collapse again.

“Well, this is it then. Me, Missy, your oldest friend, assisting you with your death. Goodbye, effectively for the two of us. What am I even saying,” she finishes under her breath, beginning the process of lifting the Doctor’s body into the casket. For appearances’ sake, she brushes off the lingering dust and debris off his coat and trousers and face, though it won’t matter for much longer. No one else besides her will be viewing him, and he’ll be crisper in just a few minutes than she ever was back in the old days. From underneath the console, Missy locates four hover discs, placing one at each end of the casket to ensure his departure is as seamless as possible. For some inexplicable reason, she is unable to close the casket lid. There is something she must say first.

“We made a pact once, you and I. We were going to see the stars together and abandon all the trivial troubles of Gallifrey. But something went wrong in the plans. We went on separate paths. Well, you went on your own path, and I followed you. I followed you everywhere I could,” Missy confesses, tangling her fingers in her Doctor’s curls. “In some ways, I wish...I wish I hadn’t woken up from that shot, the one I should have died from. We both could have been dead martyrs together. Wouldn’t that have been nice? But I understand now why I couldn’t...join you. I never got the chance to, did I?” Her voice escapes her for several moments, and she blinks away the forthcoming tears she previously didn’t know she still had.

“Standing with you...was all I ever wanted, too. Thank you, Doctor, for trying. It worked. I am standing for something now, after this and evermore, and I’m sure it will kill me someday, for good.” Missy pauses to collect herself. If she’s giving him a closing testimony she’s making sure it’s a damn good one.

“This is the last chance you have to announce you’ve miraculously survived before I send you off into Dante’s Inferno, just so you know.” The silence that follows is answer enough to her request.

“It actually isn’t Dante’s Inferno. That place isn’t real. You wanted the stars, so I brought you to them. Every single one.”  

In a few quick steps, Missy is able to pull the doors open, revealing that they have indeed reached the intended destination. Gas clouds are just beginning to circulate and weave their ways, nebulas are brewing stars within their wombs, and galaxies expand their territory among the vast devoidness of empty space. The constellation of Kasterborous is just a few hundred million light-years away from forming.

“It isn’t the moment, not the singularity that started it all. Although, it’s reasonable enough to presume you’ve already been there. We’ve entered the structure formation period of the Big Bang, when stars began existing,” she explains.

“No star ever existed before this point or would be able to exist without this moment. Your casket will fly into one of those stars and burn with its light and passion, and your atoms be dispersed all around the universe and help bring life to all of creation. I think without a doubt this is the best surprise party I’ve ever thrown for you,” Missy claims, placing her hands on her hips with a certain sense of self-satisfaction in this truly bizarre and dizzying ceremony.

The casket hovers just by the TARDIS doors. All she has to do is guide it out, and discs will direct it over to that red dwarf star, his final resting place. With a certain solemnity and poise Missy has never reserved for anyone in her lives, she seals the casket shut.

In a whisper, hushed so only the infant forces of the universe behind the two of them can hear, she gives the Doctor her final farewell.

“Goodnight, my dear friend.”  

[themasterisathirsttrap]

Preview/ For Putting Out Fire (With Gasoline) -

Missy x reader x eventual Silver!Simm x reader

Preview/General establishing plot for one of the upcoming stories --- Putting Out Fire (With Gasoline) --

((Title from the David Bowie Song- Cat People (Putting Out Fire) ))

Also unbeta-ed, and barely proofread, just wanted to crank something out, so there’s that.

From the first wry and sweetly uttered words proclaiming false innocence dropping from her lips when you stumbled upon her hidden prison, she without a doubt become one of the most interesting people you had ever met.

With the exception of the Doctor, that was. But even then, you couldn’t quite explain the silent, powerful magnetism that drew you to her in a way that had you returning to visit her regularly enough that it had become something of a routine.

Even more surprisingly, she seemed to tolerate your presence in a manner that had you both wary and secretly giddy.

Nice certainly wasn’t the right word for how she treated you, but she certainly played nice by comparison when you saw the ways she spoke with others and contrasted it to the cautiously curious conversations the two of you had.

Missy was an enigma.

A funny, terrifying, and beautiful enigma wrapped into the form of Mary Poppin’s evil alternate ego.

But damn was she fun.

And she might have noticed the ways your lips quirked upward into a smile at her jokes and passive jabs at the Doctor, or the way your gazes met when your eyes glimmered with curiosity at the rare story she’d share of her past.

“My whole life doesn’t revolve around you, Doctor.”

You remember her chiming in annoyance at the Doctor.

And the more you listened, the more convinced you were that what she said was true.

Not that you’d trust her not to lie.

No, you figured that even if the stories were all lies, she was at the very least the kind of storyteller that had you mindlessly grinning at her theatrical retellings, resting your head on you hands as you leaned towards her in your seat.

You couldn’t be sure that she liked you, given her open and frequently voiced distaste for humanity.

But at the very least, she didn’t seem want to kill you.

Regardless, she seemed to enjoy having an audience, and company not constantly berating her.

It came as a surprise when she even humored you about stories related to her past, you listened with genuine curiosity, watching as she’d place her hands on her hips and pace about her glass stage as if delivering a dramatic monologue to her audience of one.

The first time she opted to share, you approached it in a more back-and-forth, conversational manner, but the icy glare she shot you had your question dying in your throat. Moments like that reminded you of exactly who she was and what she was capable of.

You were quick to not repeat the mistake in front of the same woman who spoke of human deaths like swatting flies. She seemed pleased about that, and often shifted to this monologue-esque style of interaction when telling a story. Not that you minded, she had you engaged at  every lilt of her Scottish intonations and occasional break for dramatic pause.

Somewhere along the line, her voice became oddly soothing to you. Despite the frequent awful things she said and flippantly colorful descriptions of even seemingly ordinary things.

You your embarrassment, you even caught yourself watching with a tilted head and soft dopey smile on your face. Her amused short laugh and the feeling of her gaze suddenly on you had your face flushing red with embarrassment under her scrutinization.

“Enjoying yourself, are you? Or did your little human brain scurry off to a daydream in the middle of my story?” Missy teased, her hands on her hips with a click of her tongue.

You were quick to shake your head, the thought of even being anywhere but present in her company sounding ridiculous in your head. You weren’t sure if you had felt that way around anyone before.

To your silent dismay, but pushing those thoughts to the back of your head.

“Just listening,” you shot back dismissively, “You’re a good storyteller.”

You admitted honestly, shrugging to downplay the sentiment, but your eyes flashing to hers with a somewhat guilty smile.

Her eyes scanned over you for a moment in that way that made you feel both terrifyingly exposed and oddly thrilled.

“Hm. Well, don’t get too dreamy-eyed on me, pet.” She said, her body language easing as she seemed to accept your explanation. You kept your expression unchanged at her added endearment.

“Makes me feel like you’re not listening,” she added with an exaggeratedly sad expression, miming an invisible tear trailing down her cheek. Then she half-swung around, her skirts fanning with a flourish before taking a seat at the piano bench.

“Usually when people are properly listening to me, there’s a bit more fearthan dopey grins,” her tone was sickly sweet as she paused to idly examine her nails, “Perhaps I’ve been too soft. I’ll have to let you in on some more grizzly details of my….intergalactic exploits.” She added in a thoughtful voice and a dramatic sigh.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the act, but shook your head instead, looking to her with a challenging look, but otherwise not moving from your position.

“Or maybe it’s just not you. I don’t mind a little scary.”

Her act dropped and she looked to you suddenly with a sharp but quietly curious look. You took the bait and continued.

“I mean—it probably takes a probably takes a pretty strange human to come down here nearly daily and converse with someone who could easily kill them if the mood struck, wouldn’t it? Cl

“Well, you’re certainly either daft or insane. Haven’t quite decided which.”

“All I’m saying—is that maybe it’s not that you aren’t terrifying, but more that you stumbled upon someone just dumb or crazy enough to enjoy your sociopathic ramblings.”

You felt bold saying it, briefly fearing that you overstepped and let your tongue-and-cheek side out a little strong.

But, to your surprise, she suddenly threw her head back into a fit of laughter. The sound was infectious and you couldn’t help but let your own lips quirk back upward. She took her time regaining her composure, wiping away what might have been an actual stray tear of laugher.

“Oh. Well, At least you seem to have a some semblance of self-awareness lacking in most of your species.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a complement,” you replied with an edge of wry amusement showing through.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, pet. Just an observation.”

There it was again. You said nothing, but looked down and avoided her gaze as you felt her analyzing you.

You glanced at your phone and swore quietly at the time. You had spent far too long there.

Again.

You climbed to your feet, stretching the muscles the you hadn’t realized you had been tensing, and gathering your belongings.

“It’s late—I should get going,” you said, trying to dispel whatever effect she was having on you in your sudden urge to stay.

She turned away from you and hummed with a guarded indifference that you had come to recognize, but you hadn’t quite learned how to decipher.

The silence fell between the two of you until the sound of a shrill note on the piano jarred you enough to look up from your gathering of papers and notebooks. She didn’t look your way, but you caught the silhouette of her smile at your surprised jump. She comfortably fell into a melody that sounded vaguely familiar, but you didn’t know enough about classical music to bother a guess.

You thought she might continue to play without as much as a goodbye, as she often did in her attempt to make it clear that she didn’t enjoy your little visits as much as you did.

But maybe you were flattering yourself.

You needed to be a realist. Especially with her.

And especially with how uneasy your own muddled nonexistentfeelings where towards her.

You yawned, shaking the thoughts away as you realized just how tired and fatigued your muscles were from the long day of classes, staying up too late with Bill and the Doctor, and slipping away to sneak in some time with herbehind their backs.

To your surprise ,as you turned to leave, she chimed out.

“Now, don’t be be roped into some silly adventure do-gooder adventure with the Doctor tomorrow.”

You looked back at her in surprise.

“You’re particularly boring when you’re tired. I can’t have you too tired to listen attentively next time,” the shift in her voice took you off guard. Back to her guarded, colder tone, but with a playful edge.

“I don’t like other people playing with my toys.”

She shot you a wink and you quickly turned away to leave while giving a short nod. Your face flushed at the gesture.

No.

You weren’t developing feelings for her.

You couldn’t.

That would be ridiculous, and incredibly stupid.

But the memory of the uneasy fluttering in your stomach when she smiled at you tugged at your subconscious, and had to admit you had never really enjoyed hearing the sound of your own name as much as you did falling from her lips.

Oh Shit.

You had feelings for her.

- - -

Mostly exposition/ setup for the main story, but wanted to at least share some of it. 

Also starting a tag Master List for tagging the main story, I know I have a few names already, but let me know if you want to be on it!