#Either way I noticed it again today. Spent twenty minutes trying to reach my doctor's office

[dontmeanyoudontmissit]

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[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 1

Ding dong fannibals I’m back on my bullshit :) 

I discovered that I cannot for the life of me be concise so this one might come in a couple parts. I don't anticipate it's gonna go as long as Cult Girl but we'll see. Y/n is an introverted waitress at a fancy restaurant with a crush on a mysterious regular. An encounter with a dangerous criminal pulls her into his world.

Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence; implied drug use; religiously-motivated violence.

In some ways, waitressing was the perfect job for an introvert. Customers didn’t see you as a person, they saw you as an NPC. As long as that was the case, you weren’t expected to engage with them beyond the script: you take their order, bring them the food and they, hopefully, leave a tip. To ensure that, you perfected the art of fake happiness. You were there to make money, not friends. 

Well, there was an exception to every rule. Yours was the sommelier. 

The sommelier was a regular at the restaurant, but never ordered a meal. He mostly just sat at the bar, drank expensive wine, and watched the people come and go for hours at a time. Among the waitstaff, he was a bit of a local cryptid. Waitresses whispered about the handsome gentleman with an unidentifiable accent and deep pockets. About how lucky you had to be to score a bartending shift on one of the nights he showed up. It got to the point where bartending shifts were swapped like currency, because every woman on staff wanted the chance to meet the sommelier. 

One of the more religious line chefs liked to remind you all that the devil would come as everything you could ever desire. He was fully convinced that the sommelier was Satan incarnate, and he wasn’t completely off the mark. Standing at six feet tall with features sharp enough to cut diamonds, the sommelier wouldn’t look out of place in a vampire thriller. He always dressed in dark suits. Your coworkers hypothesized this was so the bloodstains wouldn’t show. Despite the chef’s well-intended (if not condescending) warnings, even the threat of eternal damnation couldn’t scare you off. 

As much as you liked to believe you were above stupid workplace gossip, you knew you weren’t. You were never the most socially adept person, but this gave you something to connect over. It’s how you discovered that you and the other waitresses were all in the same boat; broke, lonely and in desperate need of some excitement. And if that came in the form of a wine-loving vampire taking a liking to your restaurant, there were certainly worse ways to go. 

Unfortunately, not even the chance at encountering the sommelier could make you look forward to working Easter Sunday. Your manager had you working from noon to midnight that day. As employers went, he wasn’t much of a tyrant. He offered you time and a half and even let you switch from waiting tables to bartending halfway through the shift. He, too, knew how coveted the bartending shifts were. And you weren’t in any position to refuse, either. You quite enjoyed having a roof over your head and food in your stomach. 

That didn’t make up for the fact that most of the other twenty-something employees had left for the holiday, and you were one of the few stragglers left available. Easter was the most dreaded workday of the year, because the infamous after-church crowd quadrupled in size and lasted all day. They came in double-digit parties, had no concept of birth control and tipped in prayer. Too many times had you reached for what looked like a generous cash tip, only to find that it was a church pamphlet disguised as a fifty.

You clocked in at noon exactly, after waiting for the second hand to pass the twelve just to be sure. 

“[F/N]!” Your coworker, Charissa, grabbed your attention before you could walk away. “I heard you’re at the bar this evening. Congratulations.” 

“He’s not going to show up, Charissa.” You rolled your eyes. You decided to go into this shift expecting the absolute worst, that way you wouldn’t be setting yourself up for disappointment. “It’s Easter.” 

“You don’t know that.” Charissa nudged you in the side. 

You grinned. “Why would a vampire come to dinner on the one day everyone is gonna be wearing a cross?” 

“Oh, shit, I didn’t think of that.” Charissa gasped. “Well, good luck anyway.”

The first wave of customers filing through the door and filling the restaurant with noise pushed all optimism out of your head. Sighing, you approached a person that Charissa had already seated. 

“Hi, my name is [F/N], I’ll be your server today.” You greeted the first customer in your block. “Can I get you something to drink today?” 

The man couldn’t have been a day over twenty-five, if that. He was still lively in a way that meant he hadn’t experienced the drain that was a minimum wage job. He was wearing a shirt that said ‘on fire for Christ’ under a flannel with no buttons. One look and you knew he wasn’t going to tip. 

The man flashed a row of eerily white teeth. “I thought you said you would bring the wine?” 

You momentarily thought you’d already taken his drink order and shook your head. “I’m sorry, did I--”

“Ah, I see your confusion.” The man shrugged and forced a laugh. “You’re waitressing this week, you and I are going on a date next week. My mistake.” 

Great. You thought. It hasn't even been five minutes and I'm already being gaslit.

Any interaction that forced you to go off-script was bad, but this was a particularly irritating diversion. “Would you like to see a wine list?”

“I’m Chase.” He said. “It’s nice to meet you, [F/N].” 

“Have you decided on a drink?” You repeated, trying not to grit your teeth too obviously. 

"I'll have a glass of your finest coke, please." He faked an English accent, poorly.

"We only carry Pepsi products." You said, dreading how this joker would react to such a minor inconvenience.

He threw his head back and made a face like he had just taken a bullet to the chest. "No, it's gotta be coke! It's coke or nothing!"

"Did you want something else, then?" You tried to hurry him along. "The bartender makes a very nice mimosa-"

He smacked the table as if he had some urgent question. "McDonald's or Chick-Fil-A? There is a right answer, so choose wisely."

"...uh," You mumbled, just praying that he would order a drink already. There wasn't even a Chick-fil-A in the area. "I like McDonald's."

Again, he acted like he was shot in the chest. "Oh, you're down zero to two!"

"If you need a few minutes to select a drink," You said. "I can come back-"

He grabbed your arm and forced a laugh. "I'm just kidding around with you, [F/N]. Pepsi is fine."

You scribbled the order down on your notepad, mostly just to pry your wrist from his grip. You wanted to go into the bathroom and scrub yourself down, but perhaps it was just easier to chop the whole arm off. That way you could get worker's compensation, too.

The tables were filling up and you had spent far too long coaxing a drink order out of this youth pastor creep. You had actual families to wait on. The shift was off to a horrible start.

You made him wait for as long as you could get away with. You took drink orders from three full booths before returning to the youth pastor. Because you knew he was raring to corner you again.

You planted the pop in front of him, the glass already wet with condensation. "Have you decided on a meal?"

"I was just looking over this menu and something caught my eye." He began, looking at the holiday menu your manager had printed off. "This rack of lamb, it's a special, right?"

"Right." You nodded. "It's a pretty large meal, though, so I'd recommend sharing it-"

"No, y'see.." he cut you off. "Jesus was the lamb of god. He died on the cross for your sins. And, look!"

He pointed to the menu. "It says it's a 'praying hands' lamb!"

"Oh!" You forced yet another smile. "I can see the confusion. That just refers to how the rack is arranged."

"I think it's a sign from god." He said.

You demonstrated the shape of the dish with your fingers. "See, the rib bones are long and the racks are Frenched, so the dish takes the shape of a pair of, well, praying hands."

"I'll take it." He nodded furiously.

He took a sharp breath in through his nose and you started to seriously wonder if his definition of "coke or nothing" had a double meaning. It formulated in your head as a joke, but it became more and more of a serious inquiry by the minute.

You leaned in just slightly to get a closer look at his face. Some details you hadn't noticed before were beginning to come into focus. His eyes were vacant and glassy. A small but noticeable stream of blood trickled from his nostril.

"Sir?" You said in a clear, projected voice. "Is there someone I could call for you?"

He turned his head. "Jesus died for your sins."

You looked around the room for any sign of your manager, a supervisor or anyone with a shred of authority. "This man needs help!"

In your haste to call attention to the situation, you didn't see him pick up his steak knife.

"You want to know what Jesus felt when you pierced him?" He muttered, just loud enough for your ears alone.

You felt the serrated knife puncture your skin before you had time to process his words. The pain shot through your body, making you freeze in place.

A chorus of screams filled the restaurant. Blood was pouring from the open wound in a quantity you didn't think possible. Underneath, the knife went straight through your hand and into the table.

The man gripped the handle and gave it a twist, a look of horrifying pleasure on his face. At this point, several people had stepped in to restrain him. He was tall and athletic and could easily overpower many of the other customers, which he did. He found another steak knife and began to cut throats while chanting an incomprehensible prayer.

An older woman claiming to be a doctor rushed to your side. She made a makeshift tourniquet from a napkin and a butter knife. Everything after that was a blur. You struggled to stay conscious as the woman tried to guide the knife from the table while keeping it embedded in your hand.

Soon enough, police and ambulances arrived on the scene. The woman placed you in the care of one of the many EMTs, then rushed away to assist the others.

"I'm just doing what Jesus says!" The youth pastor shouted, before gouging his knife into another man's throat. "Spreading his love!"

The officers notably didn't open fire and made an attempt to de-escalate. Maybe that was how the youth pastor was able to escape. 

[lexosaurus]

I Love You

My fic for day 5 of DP Side Hoes Week (yes I’m a day behind). 

Character: Jazz Theme: Hospital

This oneshot exists within my Everything Was White fic series [ao3]. You do NOT have to be following Everything Was White to understand this fic, this one exists as a prequel in the timeline and I give enough context in the text for anyone to be able to understand it. 

Okay, enjoy!

---

Jazz sat on the armchair, her gaze blank. Hazy. She hadn’t moved since she sat down some time ago. Time moved without reason, and she wasn’t sure how long it had been. Her back hurt and her lips were chapped, but she hardly noticed her discomfort.

The only thing that mattered was the person laying on the bed before her.

The person she hardly recognized.

Four weeks. That’s how long he had been missing from their lives, that’s how long the Guys in White had him. Twenty-eight days on the dot.

She could never forget his eyes as he was dragged out the door. They were wild, desperately staring down their parents who were both pinned down by government agents with guns trained to their heads. He screamed, struggling against his captures. 

But it wasn’t enough. 

Because in the end, he was thrown in the back of a white van. All while Jazz stood on the stairs doing nothing. 

She should have freed him. She could have helped. But she was too weak. 

Too weak.

Her eyes stung, and she wanted to cry. Break down. Sob. But she had already used up her stock of tears hours ago, when she finally saw him for the first time since he’d be transferred out of critical care.

He was frail, tiny. Nothing but skin and bones. His body was scarred, torn, encased in gauze and casts. Doctors fluttered about, talking in hushed tones as they analyzed her brother’s body. They tried not to show it, but Jazz knew they were baffled by him.

There was talk about his injuries. He hadn’t woken up yet, at least not completely, but Jazz was already told of the more...drastic injuries.

The Y scar on his chest.

The paralysis.

The starvation.

No one knew what the permanent effects were going to be. No one knew how he was going to fair once he woke up. But there was one thing they all knew for certain, a truth that none of the Fentons had said out loud yet: 

Danny was not going to be the same anymore.

She crumbled, allowing her head to fall into her hands. Apparently, she still had more tears to give. A sob tore its way from her throat, pulling with it a wave of emotions that Jazz had just spent the last few hours desperately trying to repress.

She was tired. So, so tired. And yet, this nightmare refused to end.

“Danny, I—I’m so sorry.” Jazz’s voice was raw. The naked truth was hanging right there in front of her, the consequences of her complete failure. 

She should have been there for him during the ghost fight. The one between him and Skulker that ultimately led to his revelation right there high in the skies in front of the entire town. She could have helped him.

She should have known the Guys in White would then come surround their house and take him.

She should have tried harder to find him and break him out of the government compound. They tried so hard, but they couldn’t find the stupid building.

She should have practiced her questions better in court. Maybe then the jury would have decided sooner. She could have gotten him released before he was hurt so bad.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t respond.

“I love you so much, Danny. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond.

---

“You alright there, son?” Jack asked. He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

It didn’t seem to matter. Jazz doubted Danny even heard their father’s question. She was honestly questioning if he even realized they were in the room.

His eyes wandered around the room as if he were still trying to take in the walls of the hospital. He woke up four days ago, and yet every day had been the same blank wandering gaze. 

Jazz hoped it was just the pain medication the hospital was giving him. She desperately clung onto the belief that her brother would snap out of it one day and would come home and he would be back to normal.

Back to how he was before.

“Your mother and I are going to meet with the surgeon.” Jack put an arm around Maddie, pulling her into his side. 

Her face was white, streaked with red as if she’d been crying recently, and the bags under her eyes had never been so pronounced. But Jazz couldn’t blame her. After all, she probably looked more or less the same.

“Stay with Danny, alright? We’ll come grab you after.”

“Sure, Dad,” Jazz said, putting on a smile she hoped was comforting.

Her mother muttered something that Jazz didn’t catch, and then both parents were gone. 

And Jazz was alone. With Danny.

Again.

She turned back to face him. The doctors had said that he’d sustained significant brain damage, and they weren’t sure yet how much communication he would be able to do. He was too drugged up still, too out of it. 

He couldn’t speak, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand her.

Or maybe that was her hopeful side talking again. She shouldn’t get her hopes up. She would only be hurt in the end.

“Hey, Danny,” Jazz tried. Her voice was thin. Dry. She tried to wet her lips and spoke again. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re comfortable. If you were wondering, you broke your spine. I mean, I’m sure you already knew that but—” Her voice cracked. “—you know. That’s why you, um, might be uncomfortable right now. It’s the brace.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at her.

Just continued staring at the ceiling.

Jazz wondered if anything was going through his mind. If he had any questions. She would if she were Danny. 

She tried to imagine the sort of things he would say. His voice, crackling through the throes of puberty, as he poked fun at her in that annoying way only a brother could accomplish. She tried to envision a world where he could still do that.

And she tried not to think about the fact that there was a good chance that she’d never hear his voice again.

“Your SCI was incomplete, you know. So there’s still a chance…” Jazz shook her head. 

There she was getting hopeful again. 

“Everyone really missed you, Danny. I—I really missed you.”

He blinked slowly. In her imagination, Jazz heard him say “I missed you too.”

“I love you.”

He didn’t respond.

---

“What band are we in the mood for today?” Jazz asked, scrolling through her playlist.

Danny was starting to come to. He seemed to be able to hold eye contact, albeit not for very long, and his minute facial expressions showed at least some understanding of what was happening around him.

Although, he still hadn’t spoken yet.

Jazz glanced brightly down at him. Now that she knew he was conscious of her presence, she couldn’t afford to show up at the hospital in sweats with her tear-stained face anymore. She had to be there for him. She had to be strong.

Maybe she had been too weak to help him before. Maybe back then, she had failed him.

But she would be damned if she wasn’t strong enough to help him now.

“What do you think? MCR? Blink-182?” she asked. “I got these band names from Sam, by the way. So if she lied to me about what music you listen to now, don’t blame me.”

Danny just stared at her with his owl-ish expression.

“Here, if you want, you can choose.” Jazz held her phone screen out in front of him, watching as his eyebrows scrunched up ever so slightly as he gazed up at the screen.

Jazz felt her smile falter for a split second before she pulled her phone away and straightened herself up on her chair.

She had to be strong.

“It’s okay, I’ll just choose one.” She tapped the screen and set her phone down. 

The sound of over-compressed guitars filled the tiny bluetooth speaker on the windowsill, and Jazz beamed down at Danny, waiting for that tiny flicker of recognition to hit his face.

And, to her delight, some of the fog in his eyes momentarily lifted. He looked over to Jazz as if he were seeing her for the first time, the shock and disbelief seeping through the blank slate that was his expression.

Jazz was hardly able to keep the glee out of her voice. “You like it?”

His eyes flickered between Jazz and the bluetooth speaker. Back and forth again before settling back on the ceiling.

“Well, I’ll have to thank Sam for the recommendation later! She can’t wait to see you, you know. The doctors are only allowing family in your room right now, but maybe next week if you’re feeling up to it, Sam and Tucker can stop by. I don’t want to make any promises right now, but you never know.”

Danny’s eyes slowly traveled around the ceiling.

“Are you thirsty?” Jazz asked. “Hungry? Well, you’re probably not hungry. Doctors have been monitoring your nutrient intake a lot. I’m glad, too, because you have some color in your face again.”

His eyes shut, and a content smile twitched on his face.

Jazz couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked so peaceful.

“I love you, Danny.”

He didn’t respond. 

---

Danny was home now. That should have been a good thing. 

It should have been.

And it was. In so many ways, it was wonderful having him home again.

But in so many other ways, it wasn’t.

Jazz had been under some illusion that once he made it home, things would go back to normal. Sure, he would be in a wheelchair until his PT started, and he might not be able to turn into a ghost for a few weeks either, but her brother would be home. 

Except, Danny never came home. Physically, he did. But mentally he was still trapped somewhere far away.

He was talking now at least. He’d started talking the week before he’d left the hospital. He wasn’t able to speak in full sentences, at least not without pausing, and he wasn’t able to really understand long sentences either, but this was a start.

Jazz wanted to hope that things would get better, but hope was a dangerous drug.

After all, even though he’d started speaking again, he still refused to talk about what happened to him. Anytime Jazz would try to bring the conversation up, he’d clam up and close off for the rest of the day.

And that hurt. It hurt so bad. She so desperately wanted to be there and support him, to help him talk through the trauma he’d experienced, but he just didn’t want to.

But that was okay. It had to be okay. She had to be strong.

She stood in front of his door, pausing only to compose herself before knocking.

He didn’t acknowledge her knock, but Jazz wasn’t expecting him too. He was trying to isolate himself, and Jazz wasn’t going to let him.

She’d already failed him once. 

“Good morning, Danny!” Jazz bursted into the room, her voice chipper despite the fact that she hadn’t slept last night.

She doubted that Danny did either.

Danny was lying on top of his comforter, already dressed. Their mom must have gotten him situated before shutting herself down in the lab.

Their parents seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

“Come on, get up. I come bearing an activity!”

“Too early,” Danny grumbled.

Jazz ignored him, sauntering into the room brandishing a large, easy piece jigsaw puzzle she’d just ran out to buy that morning.

It was hard to find one for kids that wasn’t either a princess castle or a race car scene. Fortunately, the store had one on sale that had colorful, cartoon baby ghosts covering the image.

“Either you get up, or I drag you up. Either way, you’re doing this puzzle with me.”

“Puzzle?” Danny asked.

Jazz tried not to stare as he struggled upright, only swooping in to set his pillows upright behind him. “Yeah, puzzle.”

She set the box down in front of him, pulling off the lid and revealing the large pieces in front of him.

“That’s...so Boring.”

“Well, the doctors still want you avoiding screens for a little while longer. I figured this was better than staring at the wall.”

Danny eyed the box, his face impassive. 

“Here, wait.” She went out into the hallway, grabbing a large piece of cardboard from the wall. “I brought something to make the puzzle on. Figured it would be easier than the mattress.”

“Okay.” He picked up one of the pieces, inspecting it slowly as if he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“So…” Jazz plopped herself down on the mattress next to Danny and put the cardboard over their laps. “What do you think we should do first?”

Danny gazed blankly down, his eyes trailing between the cardboard and the puzzle piece in his hand. He blinked, and then put the puzzle piece down on the cardboard.

“Okay, we can start with that one!” Jazz chirped.

“No…” Danny ran his hand through his hair. “No that’s not...need to sort.”

“Oh?” Jazz grabbed another piece from the box. “So what should I do with this one then?”

Danny gazed quizzically over at Jazz, grabbing the piece to inspect it. “Edge,” he finally said, setting the piece down on the opposite side of the board from the first piece.

“So we’re sorting the edge pieces from the regular pieces?” 

Danny hummed, grabbing another piece from the box.

“Sounds like a good plan!”

They worked together in near silence after that, Jazz only stopping every so often when she could feel Danny’s attention slipping to ask him to help her sort a piece. It was almost cute how determined he was to complete the task correctly. It almost reminded Jazz of the quiet determination that would slip onto his features in the moments just before he transformed into Phantom. 

Solving the puzzle was a whole different beast. If Jazz were honest, she wasn’t sure if they would have been able to finish in one sitting. Danny still tired far too rapidly throughout the day, and he still slept for more hours than he was awake.

But finally Danny snapped the last piece into place, completing their simple blob ghost picture.

“Nice job!” Jazz put her hand up for a high five.

Danny blinked, slowly processing the motion, before his brain caught up and he gave a little smirk, a tiny eye roll, but met Jazz’s hand all the same.

She put the cardboard with the now completed puzzle on the floor before sitting back against the fluffy pillows. Breathing out, she allowed herself to sink back into the cushions for just a moment.

She was so tired. 

Her brain swirled, and she wanted to sink deeper into the darkness. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t allowed to.

“Are you asleep?” Danny asked.

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.”

A quiet trepidation settled over the pair. Jazz could feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air like forbidden fruit ripe for picking. But the apples were just out of reach, and she knew the branches wouldn’t sink lower until Danny was ready. 

But he had to come home first. He would never be ready to tell her what happened until he finally came back to them. And Jazz didn’t know how long that would take.

“I love you,” Jazz said.

Danny didn’t respond.

---

Thanks for reading!

[cudan2]

Starbucks and Skin Grafts

Spring Break Shadowing Part 2

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Word Count: 2,206

Summary: You’re starting your second day of shadowing with Dr. Cullen and get to learn more about him.

A/N: I underestimated the amount of research I’d have to do for this series woops. I’m pre-dent and not pre-med, so if anyone here is actually a doctor or a med student or even knows more about medicine than I do, feel free to tell me what details I should change! (I really did try my best though, but it’s turning out to be more Grey’s Anatomy-esque) 

Anyways, this is #4 on my headcanon list. 

Masterlist

XXX

When the train stops at the 168th Street Station, you make your first task of the day to find Doctor Cullen. The campus is growing to be familiar territory, but it’s still massive and you find yourself getting lost on the main surgical floor despite already getting directions from a receptionist. Your frustration begin growing as you turn another corner and realize you’re still as lost as before.

“Just the person I’ve been looking for!” a familiar voice calls out. You turn to look over your shoulder and find the doctor you’d spent the last fifteen minutes searching for. He’s wearing a white coat and lacking the scrub cap from the previous day. So he’s blonde, you notice, not a single strand out of place. You take several steps towards him to meet him halfway.

“Good morning, Doctor Cullen. I’m sorry for not meeting with you earlier. It might have been a little difficult to track you down,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Don’t worry, it can certainly take weeks to learn how to navigate this hospital. I’ve just finished doing my morning rounds, so there is about twenty minutes before I meet for a pre-op. Why don’t we grab some coffee and get to know each other a bit more?” Before you can even give an answer, your stomach growls loudly and you mentally berate yourself for not eating anything beforehand. “Perhaps a little less coffee and some more food would be beneficial for you instead,” Doctor Cullen chuckles.

By the time you reach the Starbucks on the first floor of the hospital, you’ve learned the basics about him and vice versa. He’s a plastic surgeon, this was his first year as an attending, he moved here about five months ago, actually started working here four months ago, and attended University of Washington in Seattle for both his undergrad and medical school.

Meanwhile, you currently attend school away from home at New York University, you’re in your third year of college, majoring in biology, minoring in psychology, and on track to graduate a semester early.

“Hey, Doc! The usual as always?” you hear as you make it to the front of the Starbucks line with Doctor Cullen.

“Good morning, Emily. Yes, the usual as always.”

“Sounds good! Will that be all?” Both the barista and the doctor look towards at you.

You splutter out your intended order and lean towards Doctor Cullen as Emily is writing your name on a cup. “You really don’t have to pay for the food and stuff. I mean, I brought cash so–”

“Think of it as compensation. I can’t imagine how many people actually enjoy being up this early in the morning, especially seeing how this is your spring break. Besides, I think you’ll find you need the energy to keep up with me today. I must warn you though, it won’t all lap appys and fun like with Doctor Stone.”  

“I like a good challenge,” you smirk at him. He gazes back at you with a twinkle in his eyes and a soft smile and you can’t help the fact that your heart starts beating just a little faster.  

Another barista call your names out and you’re suddenly reminded that this is the real world.

“Thanks for the breakfast,” you quickly say, breaking eye contact and grabbing the orders from the counter. Stop thinking about how pretty his eyes are, you tell yourself, even if they do look like pure amber. Doctor Cullen follows suite and goes to grab his grande-sized cup.

“Careful, wouldn’t want to burn the surgeon hands,” you notice the amount steam coming out of the lid and hand him a sleeve for the cup. When he accepts the sleeve from your outstretched arm, you see a peculiar expression on his face and hear a soft chuckle from him before he thanks you. It’s almost as though he knew something you didn’t.

The two of you walk back to his office so he can grab his notes on the patient. On the way there, he tells you more about his daily life as a plastic surgeon as you eat. He’s done so many different procedures that you can barely keep track of the list. There’s a lot less liposuctions and facelifts – those were for the cosmetic surgeons – and more reconstructions and repairs in his line of work.    

“The patient you’re about to meet was in a car accident two years ago,” Doctor Cullen explains. “He received extensive burns to the face and neck, all of which have scarred over now. Our goal is to reduce the scarring and give him back some mobility.”

Before you can ask any questions, Doctor Cullen is already knocking on the patient’s door and entering. The door opens to reveal the patient sitting up in bed along and a woman standing beside him. The other two doctors in the room wore ceil blue scrubs – residents, you note, following Doctor Cullen into the room.  

“There’s the man of the hour!” The woman exclaims.

“Mom!” The patient lets out an exasperated groan.

“What? As if you aren’t excited to see the handsome doctor either, Tyler!” You try your best not to laugh but can see the two residents smother their own smiles behind fake coughs. Doctor Cullen is the one to accept the indirect compliment and bids both the patient and his mother a hello.

“Tyler, I have a student shadowing me for the week, if you wouldn’t mind another pair of eyes in the room?”

“Yeah, I don’t mind. I’ve definitely experienced a whole lot worse,” Tyler responds.

“Perfect. Doctor Wang, would you present the case?”

One of the residents looks up from her charts and begins reciting the details as if it were second nature. “Tyler Sardella, age 24, scheduled for scar revision.”

“And what procedures will we be performing today?”

“We’ll be planting an autograft and doing a Z-plasty to minimize the appearance of scarring. Skin grafting will help give a bigger range of motion in the neck, accelerate the healing process, and prevent any future scarring.” Her words exude confidence and you hope to sound like that one day. Skin graft and Z-plasty... you’re not entirely familiar with the terms but store them in the back of your head. After all, you’re here to learn.

Doctor Cullen gives a nod of approval to Doctor Wang and turns back to Tyler. “Tyler, do you have any last-minute questions before we send you to the OR?”

“Nope! I’m so ready to turn my head 180 degrees again.”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you soon then.”

You give a quick nod to Tyler and his mother as both Doctor Cullen and you take your leave. The two residents reconvene with their attending several minutes later and exchange words before they both head off to prepare for the surgery.

You stand around awkwardly for a moment as Doctor Cullen looks over the charts. He suddenly calls your name out, eyes still scanning over his notes.

Your response is to stand up just slightly straighter as you say, “Yes?”

“What procedures will we be performing on Tyler?”

Well shit, you certainly weren’t expecting him to ask you that.

“Um, you’re planting a skin graft, an autograft to be more specific, and then doing a Z-plasty.” You’re unsure and your voice shows it. Of course you could regurgitate words, but it’s hard to explain any further when you didn’t know the meanings to those words.

Doctor Cullen looks up from his charts with that twinkle in his eyes again and a smirk playing on his lips. “Correct!” he exclaims and laughs when he sees the petrified expression you’re wearing from being caught off guard. “Y/N, I did warn you it wasn’t going to be easy. However, I may have failed to mention it was going to be me making your experience here more difficult.”

“Why though?”

“What can I say? I like to keep my students on their toes. It keeps things interesting.”

You huffed and followed him to the OR. Challenge accepted.

Scrubbed – check, PPE – check, scrub cap – well, that was for Doctor Cullen, but check. He’s still scrubbing when you hear him.

“Are you sure you want to be in there? It’s going to take approximately three hours.”

“You told me that,” you remind him. “And I told you that I like a challenge.”

“Alright, but please let me know if you feel any fatigue. I can ask one of the nurses to bring in a chair or you can step out for some air–”

“I will be fine,” you insist. “I sit all day in class, standing for three hours will be a good change of pace.” The concern etched into his face is almost endearing, but really, you’re going to be fine.

Everything and everyone is prepped and ready to go by the time you two enter the OR. You make sure to stand in an area that gives you a perfect view of the surgery but would not get in the way of anyone else. Doctor Cullen has his loupes on and you start feeling the high that comes with observing any sort of surgical procedure. It’s not every day that a mere undergrad like you can witness this kind of stuff.

Two hours later, you are still engrossed in the surgery. There’s 80s music playing in the background at the request of the two residents from earlier, who are now chatting away. About fifteen minutes in, Doctor Cullen had properly introduced you to his residents, Lily Wang and Jaime Montes.

Doctor Stone was great and all, but there is something about the blonde doctor that really makes him stand out as a surgeon to you. He’s able to cut and suture whilst explaining the entire procedure to you. He makes all of this seem so... effortless. Although Lily and Jaime are working as much as Doctor Cullen, it’s clear who the leader in the room is.

“You said you went to University of Washington for your undergrad and med school. What made you decide to work here instead of staying in Seattle?” you ask Doctor Cullen suddenly. The conversations around you die down. It seems you aren’t the only one curious about the surgeon.

“I suppose it felt like the right decision at the time.” He glances hesitantly at you from the head of the table before looking back to his work. You can tell there’s more to the story. “I previously worked in a hospital in a small town called Forks.”

“Forks? As in the thing you eat with?” Jaime asks and everyone around you laughs.

“Yes, Forks. It had less than 4,000 inhabitants, so you can imagine the lack of cases like these. The other residents would have gone crazy. It was peaceful for some time but I was ready to move on. It’s a silly notion now that I say it out loud, but I wanted to make an impact on the people I treated.”

“You weren’t making a difference in Forks,” you say. It isn’t a question, but a statement.

“Exactly. One of my deciding factors in working for Columbia was its resources and size. Here, I could save more people to the best of my ability with the most advance resources available.”

Once the surgery reaches its conclusion, you go scrub out with Doctor Cullen as everyone else stays to finish up. You unceremoniously flop onto the bench outside the OR, propriety be damned. Your feet are sore and you wish you could be wearing scrubs and sneakers instead of business-casual clothing.

A water bottle enters your peripheral and you look up to the person handing it to you. Doctor Cullen’s scrub cap is gone once again and his blonde hair is slightly astray.

“Thanks,” is all you can say as you grab the bottle and take a nice, long drink from it. “Nice hair by the way.” Doctor Cullen has the audacity to look down rather bashfully and runs a hand through his hair. Great, now he looks even more attractive.

“You survived,” he says.    

“I did.”

“I’m impressed.”

You let out a snort.

“You’re impressed? You, Lily, and Jaime were the ones doing everything. I literally stood there for three and a half hours! I should be the one that’s impressed.”

“You showed resilience. I have a feeling most students your age would have given in for a chair at least.”

“Yeah, I did tell you I like a challenge,” you point out, even if you did feel like never standing again.

“You also asked very good questions, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short. You have a lot of potential in this field whether you think it or not. Now go get some lunch, you deserve a break.” He sticks out a hand and you grab it to get up. Damn, his hands are cold. “I have some paperwork to file, so I’ll catch up with you later.”

“I’ll see you then,” you say and begin walking in the direction of the cafeteria.

“Y/N!” you hear him halfway down the hallway and turn to look over your shoulder. “How are we treating the donor site wound?”

You decide to keep walking.

[psycho-slytherin]

Strangers ch. 43

You go back to work, and come to terms with what’s happened.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 3k

Genre: fluff, angst, idfk

Warnings: Tiiiny bit of cursing, a hint of depression

|mlist|

<–– Prev   Next ––>

“Girl, he broke up with you? What happened?” 

“I don’t know,” you moan, clapping your hands to your ears. Her voice persists, echoing inside your head.

“He liked her more. You were never even together, and he still couldn’t wait to get rid of you.”

“Stop it. Shut up.”

“Poor, traumatized Y/n, who’s been nothing but trouble. Y/n, who’s an anxious little nobody. Y/n, trying to drag a star like him down to your level.”

“That’s not true!” “He hates you. Why else would he do that? He knows what she did to you, and he’s with her anyways. He hates you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But you do, Y/n.”

“Fame, flashlight– gi-give it to me!”

Unlike most of your nightmares, for once you don’t bolt upwards in a panic. Your eyes simply open at the sound of your alarm and blink several times. 

After a moment of stillness, you reach for your phone. It’s time for a change. Waking up to his voice every day used to be a delight, but now… you switch the sound back to the default alarm noise. It’s been all of one day since you awoke to his betrayal– twenty-four hours since the second of the two people you trusted most in the world was lost to you. 

And I had to go from hearing one in my sleep to getting woken up by the other, you think humorlessly as you shove your blanket off and stretch.

Kang Seoyeon. You’ve spent so long thinking only of her attack, that flash of hair, that shove into the river, that learning her name feels like a punch in the stomach. She’s not just a nightmare. You don’t know whether you’re relieved or horrified. 

Doesn’t matter. You have work today. The dark cloud that formed after Lisa’s disappearance, the same one that grew in weight when you saw Seoyeon’s picture on Lisa’s laptop and again when your mom cut you off– it overwhelmed you yesterday after you saw the news about him and Seoyeon. The feeling, the horrible, gnawing darkness got so intense that something inside of you seemed to break, and the pressure simply… lifted. 

You survived an attempt on your life. You didn’t need him then, and you don’t need him now, especially since he’s made it clear that he doesn’t need you either.

And so you get dressed in more layers than you need, put on makeup, and walk to the subway station. You’d take an Uber but now, more than ever, you need to save money. Thanks, Mom. Maybe you can find a flat with lower rent further from the city? Or check with student housing? Right, you’re still a student.

As you approach, you notice a commotion around the studio. There’s a crowd outside, a mix of what look like fans and paparazzi. You tug your collar up in the hopes that you’re not spotted, but–

“Y/n! Any comment on Suga’s new girlfriend?”

“Just a quick photo, please!”

“Do you think Suga cheated on you?”

“Y/n! What do you have to say to Kang Seoyeon?”

“Are the rumors that you’ve been missing work true?”

“How did your relationship end?”

“No comment,” you say, the tidal wave of noise crashing down onto you as you fight for breath amidst the crowd. Despite the heat of all the bodies, you begin to shiver. “Please let me through.”

“Y/n!” A familiar voice rings out above the confusion. Avery, your director, stands tall in the doorway. “Let her pass. We will not be commenting or taking questions at this time.”

With Avery’s help, you manage to push through the mob, half collapsing once the large studio doors have closed behind you. Inside the studio, the cast and crew bustle about, almost busier than usual.

“Are you okay?” Avery asks, concerned.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Avery, look, I’m sorry I haven’t been at filming–”

“It’s in the past,” the director says kindly. “I know you’ve been through a lot. But… well, Y/n, you need a manager. A real manager. I’ve been talking with some of my agency friends, and I think-”

“I have a manager,” you interrupt. Unless… you Googled the statistics of surviving a kidnapping for as long as Lisa’s been gone. The research alone made you feel nauseous. But Lisa’s alive. She has to be. Right?

Avery folds her arms, as though she can tell something’s off. “Really? Then where’s your driver? Who’s organizing your gigs, negotiating your wages? Who’s hiring you a bodyguard? ‘Cause the people outside are showing me that you need one.”

“She just-”

“Where’s the publicist managing your online presence? You shouldn’t have to do this all on your own, Y/n. And for god’s sake, where is the person who’s supposed to keep celebrities like you from going off the deep end?”

“I’m not a celebrity, Avery! I’m not him, okay?”

“I know. But you have to understand, no one has ever been in a position like yours. BTS have a powerful fanbase, and none of them have dated before, least of all dated a virtual nobody. I know your relationship wasn’t real,” she continues, seeing you about to protest. “But it’s what needed to happen to protect both of your reputations. You skipped a lot of steps on the way to fame, Y/n. You need an experienced manager to keep you on track.” Avery shrugs. “I can email you a list of people you should talk to. Now, have you talked to your professors about missing classes? Will you be ready to go?”

“What? Go where?”

Avery raises a brow. “We’re filming on location next week, remember? There’s been an on-set announcement every day this week, and the email was sent out a month ago.”

Oh. What? You’ve barely been onset this week, so overwhelmed were you with the terror that Seoyeon had managed to instill within you. But you’ve been checking your email and your phone messages almost obsessively after you’d learned that the university had messaged you about Lisa’s disappearance first. You won’t let anything like that happen again. And yet… “I haven’t, uh… I haven’t gotten any emails about that.” 

 “Check your spam folder, I’m certain you received them.” Avery says cooly. “Anyways, you’ve missed a lot of work. Can I assume you’re back for good?”

“Yes.” You reply immediately. “Absolutely, ma’am. I’m very, very sorry for not being present lately. I’ll work hard to make up for it.” Is the existence of Seoyeon, and the unknown connection between her and Lisa, still terrifying? Of course. Does his sudden relationship with Seoyeon, after seeing him only two days ago, make your heart feel like it’s being shredded into pieces? Maybe. But you’ve broken yourself back together; no one can hurt you anymore.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Avery says, satisfied. “Now, go on to wardrobe, it’s gonna be a long day. We’re filming three episodes’ worth of your and Yoongi’s scenes.”

You gulp. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Speaking of Yoongi…” Avery checks her watch. “He’s late. Whatever– go get dressed.”

With nothing more to say, you make for the dressing rooms. And of course, who has to exit in full costume but…

“Y/n.”

You nod, your usual irrepressible anger nowhere to be seen. No one can hurt you anymore. “Jeongyeon.”

“I heard about you and Yoongi.” Jeongyeon seems to attempt to muster her usual obnoxious sneer, but it falls flat. You suppose your expression is just pitiful enough to put off her bullying.

“Ah, yeah.” You don’t know what else to say. It was just a fake relationship, so you should be glad it’s over. After all, Bang PD had said the arrangement could end whenever you wanted it to… and clearly, he wanted it to.

“Well, whatever. How does he go from bad to worse, am I right? Did you see his new girl?”

There she is, you think, watching Jeongyeon slip back into the character you know so well.

“Anyways,” she continues. “I heard we’re sharing a trailer for when we film on location. Don’t even think about stealing my bobby pins.”

You salute your costar ironically before brushing past her into the dressing rooms. 

Forty minutes later, you’re finally clothed in all your beautiful layers, your face perfectly made up. You’re an actress, a professional. Whatever is happening in your personal life, you have to put it aside for the sake of your work.

“So pretty~” the stylist coos as she expertly fixes your hair. You hear the door open, but you can’t move to see who entered as the stylist continues: “Doesn’t she look lovely?”

“Ah, yeah.”

Your eyes widen at his voice. The stylist still has a hold of your hair, and you can’t turn to look at him.

After an eternal silence, he clears his throat. “Anyways, Avery sent me here for hair and makeup?”

“Yes, Mr. Min, just one more second while I finish up with Y/n here…” after what seems like a lungful of hairspray, you’re set free. At last, you turn and look at Min Yoongi.

The shadows under his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, and his normally good posture has disappeared for slumped shoulders. Must be the stress of a new relationship.

“Y/n,” Yoongi starts. “Look, I–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, pasting a smile onto your face. “It’s whatever, Yoongi, alright?”

“Uh, right.” Yoongi fidgets with one of his rings, seemingly at a loss.

“I just…” you can feel your facade begin to slip, and shake your head. “Never mind. I’ll see you onset.”

~~~

Yoongi watches you go, clenching his fist. He wasn’t expecting to see you at work today, and he definitely wasn’t expecting… well, whatever that was.

He doesn’t know why he feels a little disappointed to realize how okay you are with this situation. Certainly far more okay than he is. Maybe you really were eager to get out of your relationship. 

Shit. He wishes he could fix this, wishes he could tell you everything. A shiver runs down his spine, though, when he remembers exactly why he can’t talk to you.

“You go to the police,” Seoyeon said, holding out her phone so Yoongi can see, “you talk to the paparazzi, or your precious little girlfriend, and this one will be gone before anyone can find her.”

Yoongi gulped. “How do I know that’s not doctored?”

He received a shrug. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take. Now, we’re going to do this my way. Want to keep Y/n safe? And the other one too?” She nods at the photo on her phone. “Follow my rules, and they won’t get hurt. But I’ll be keeping this one… for insurance.”

“You’re insane.”

Seoyeon winked. “Nope, just a fan!”

Faking a relationship with your attacker, seeing the insurance she’s kept, and knowing that he can’t tell you any of it, is almost too much for Yoongi. But he’s got D working to track Lisa’s phone, and Avery to suggest you hire bodyguards. Sure, he may be stretched thin enough to snap, but he’ll keep everyone safe. He has to.

~~~

You’re hanging around on the indoor set of what’s supposed to be a busy town market filled with extras. You’re always amazed at the movie magic that allows the simple set such versatility. 

You can hear him before you see him: the cast and crew can never help but murmur at the biggest star in the show. And yet, you don’t turn to look. It’s not like you’re avoiding him, but… well, he has to have realized that he hurt you, right? And of course, now you have to play the brokenhearted ex, since all your coworkers think the relationship was real. Which means more lies.

But it’s okay. You’re strong. Stronger than him, stronger than his new girlfriend. 

“Okay!” Avery barks, and the present company jumps to attention. “I know there’s a lot of excitement on set today, so I hope everyone remembers to keep things professional. Now, let’s get started. Episode 13, scene 6. The scene: Kim Ji-Woo has just returned from her trip to the countryside as she recovers from Mr. Moon’s sudden engagement to Mi-Gyeong, the wealthy Mr. Gang’s younger sister. They bump into each other at the market and Mr. Moon invites Ji-Woo to the ball held in honor of the engagement. Ready, and… action!”

You move quickly into the view of the camera, waving at the imaginary coachman behind you. “No, really, it’s alright! I can walk home, Father should have the carriage in any case– yes, goodbye now, good- oh!” 

Not looking where you were going, you walk right into Yoongi. Your basket clatters onto the dirt road and for a second you feel the urge to stay there in his arms as you have so many times before. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr- Mr. Moon?” you allow your voice to tremble for a second. Here he is, the man who had promised himself to you, and then turned around and chose to love another. Here he is, and every feeling you tried to bury comes rushing back. But… no. There’s still your dignity to think about.

“My apologies,” you murmur, reaching down to grab your basket as you curtsy. Basket secured, you’re quick to turn away from the newly-engaged man who, only weeks before, had secretly asked you to marry him. 

“Oh, wait, wait! Miss Kim!” Mr. Moon extends his arm, his hand barely brushing yours. Your skin prickles with equal parts excitement and pain.

You can’t ignore so blatant a summons. You look back at him slowly. “Is there something I may help you with, sir?” Sir. How long has it been since you were able to call him by his given name? 

“Please, I…” Mr. Kim pauses, his jaw tense. “My father is hosting a ball tonight. In honor of my engagement.”

“Congratulations,” you reply, as drily as your good manners will allow. For what reason is he reminding you of his betrayal?

“Would you attend, as my guest? Your sisters are most certainly welcome as well,” Mr. Moon says, his voice just shy of pleading.

Is he out of his mind? No, he’s just pulling rank and expecting you to say yes. No sane country girl such as yourself could ever turn down an invitation from a man of such good breeding.

And yet, he led you to believe he loved you, and you him, before turning tail and running towards a much better match. All the good you saw in him then… where is it now?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, staring at him. “But my family will be unable to attend. I wish you the best in your life, and in a very… happy marriage. Good day, Mr. Moon.”

“Good– ah.” You can’t see Mr. Moon rub his eyes tiredly,  for you’ve already walked away, full of determination. I don’t need him.

“Cut! Holy shit, guys!” Avery claps loudly, a wide grin on her face. “I think that was the best I’ve ever seen you two together. Keep it up! Let’s use that take. Okay, next, episode 14, scenes 30-33.”

The workday is long and brutal, but you’d never complain– at least you still have a job, after the absentee stunt you pulled.

Speaking of absentee… Lisa. It’s been a month now since she’s disappeared, and maybe you could have chalked it up to some quarter-life crisis at first. After all, she bought that plane ticket to America. 

But a month? And the police are still looking for her. They must have a reason to believe it’s more than university angst, right?

You need to face the facts, Y/n. And the facts are that Lisa must have been kidnapped. And to stay alive a month after being kidnapped… 

You can’t think about it. But you can’t not think about it. And if you’re moving past Yoongi, you have to move past your best friend, too. 

“Avery?” You approach the director , who’s giving instructions to an assistant, after the cast has been dismissed for the day. At your voice, she glances up.

“Y/n, what can I do for you?”

“I’m…” You take a deep breath, knowing your nightmares will take revenge on you. “I’m ready to look for a manager. Can you email me your contacts?” Hopefully you receive them– the fact that you haven’t noticed any emails about filming on location is really concerning.

Avery smiles. “Of course, Y/n. I really do wish you the best.”

“Thank you.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi wander your way. Avery seems to notice him as well, and manages to disappear before you can blink. The set has cleared out for the most part, with only some cosmetologists and stylists packing up.

“Hey, stranger,” you greet him. Yoongi’s eyes dart back and forth nervously.

“I’m sorry.” He finally blurts out.

“What?” Your voice remains neutral. Is he apologizing for knowing Seoyeon without telling you? For dating her? 

Yoongi reaches for your hand before freezing. “I don’t know how this is going to end, Y/n, but in case something goes wrong, I need to tell you that I’m so, so sorry.”

Yoongi… “You can’t do that,” you say eventually. He can’t hurt you anymore, but that doesn’t mean you won’t tell him the truth. “You can’t play with me like this, Yoongs. You can’t tell me that I’m safe and then turn around and hold her hand. You can’t come back and apologize for your actions after what she did to me. What she might have done to Lisa! Do you even hear yourself?” You’re half-shouting before you realize it, but you can’t stop. “Christ, I knew celebrities were selfish, but this is god-tier bullshit. She could have killed me, Yoongi! Would you still have loved her then?”

“I don’t–” Yoongi stops short before shaking his head. “You don’t understand.”

“So teach me.”

“I… can’t.”

You breathe in sharply, gripping your bag. “Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you. And, Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

[theoriginalladya]

Lonely Sunday Morning (fanfic)

So, a bit of a setup here:  some 4-5 years ago maybe(?) I created Michaela Shepard to RP with @scarletthalloran‘s Kaidan Alenko.  During that time, she introduced me to Levi Kreis’ songs.  Several in particular stood out as really good Mass Effect inspiring, but Lonely Sunday Morning just spoke to me on another level altogether.  Ever since then, I’ve been trying to finish a fic I started for her tied to that.  Tonight, I finally finished it.  

Here you are, my dear!  I’m so sorry it took so long, but just know these two are always in my mind, and though short lived, I had a blast playing Michaela with your Kaidan! :)  <3

(under cut for length)

Setting:  Normandy   post-Thessia

On AO3 here

~~~

Like a lion through the high grass of the savannah, exhaustion stalks her every move, and with each mission, every battle, it is only getting worse.  If she feels anything, it is the weight of every minute, every hour, every day that passes since fleeing Earth and the Reaper attack.  It doesn’t matter that it was for the good of the galaxy; it still hurts, and moving the entire process forward is a painful battle of its own, at times even against herself.  She is drained; no doubt about it.  Spent physically, emotionally, any and all ways a body, mind and spirit can be wrung out.  But the missions come with such frequency and with very little of the precious downtime in between, she feels as if she is perpetually cracked, her life seeping out through the fissures.  

The war is taking its toll on her crew as well. On her friends.  Mistakes have been made.  The risks are starting to outweigh the benefits, but what other choice is there?  The fate of the galaxy is on the line and they, she, is the only one who can get them there.  Winning is the only option; well, not the only, but failure certainly isn’t in the cards. Not if she has a say in it. At the very worst, they die trying, and if that is their destiny, at least they will leave better counsel in place for the next cycle.

Shepard’s towel slithers down her body to form a muddled heap at her feet.  She chooses to ignore it and the many regulations drilled into her during basic so many years ago, instead opting to crawl straight beneath the sheets.  Temptation is a dangerous thing, she recalls hearing somewhere.  Right now, temptation wins out, though guilt tracks her quickly on its heels and attempts to gain traction … to no avail, the shower having taxed all remaining strength to push it away.  

So close, she thinks as her head hits the pillow, tears finally forming as the truth wraps around her like a shroud.  We were so damned close … and now we are even further away than before …

The dampness of her hair soaks the pillow and case, but she doesn’t care.  Her eyes close, blessed sleep just within her grasp.  To escape the failure, if only for a fleeting moment.  She wants, needs, to recharge.  To process.  To find a way to cope so that she can charge forward tomorrow as they need her to …

Bedclothes drawn over her shoulders, the soothing light from the fish tank the only source of brightness in the room, reality smacks her in the face with the force of a krogan headbutt, and she shudders. Realization, even at this depth of exhaustion, is not kind; it doesn’t matter how tired she is, how badly her body wants to fade into unconsciousness, her brain is unwilling to accommodate her and will not shut off.  Focusing on good times, envisioning familiar, friendly faces – none of that will help. Distraction comes in many forms, but right now, behind closed eyelids, all she sees are tactical plans, desperate fights for survival, and the face of defeat … behind a mask and a sword .... Like an old school horror film, it replays over and over and over …

A scream builds in her throat, the desire to yell and curse and blast anyone or thing close enough to her in this moment. She needs rest, dammit!  If she’d only been a little faster, smarter, stronger on Thessia, they wouldn’t be in this situation.  She cannot afford another mistake on that magnitude!

Biting back a half sob of frustration and anguish, she sits up and wraps her arms around her legs, dropping her forehead to rest on her knees.  It’s too much.  I can’t keep doing this.  WHY WON’T YOU LET ME SLEEP???

The inner voices that often chide her during such times remain suspiciously silent this night.  The replay of events on Thessia, however, do not.

Her chest aches, just the tiniest bloom near her heart, but it grows exponentially and spreads, its menacing tendrils burrowing deep.  Her head starts to ache, beginning in her temples and slicing outward, searching for all of the most inconvenient and uncomfortable places …

This, however, she is prepared for.  Without lifting her head, she extends her hand to the nightstand drawer and pulls it open.  She fumbles a moment, eventually settling upon the small bottle of painkillers that the doctor provided weeks ago.  The rattle from within assures her there are at least two left; it is enough. She pops them into her mouth and downs them without water.  Enough is enough.  Maybe this will help the other issue as well.

The bottle falls to the floor from nerveless fingers and she prays the relief comes quickly.  It won’t last long, but if it can take the edge off, perhaps it will also allow her mind to be at ease and sneak stealthily past the images into unconsciousness …

Ten minutes past.  Twenty.  As the thirty minute mark comes and goes, a lone tear leaks from closed lids and trickles down her nose to drip silently into the sheets.

Opening her eyes, Shepard sits up, a sigh of frustration easing past her lips.  She turns her attention to the tank, eyeing the creatures inside, desperately wishing for a way to escape reality for just five bloody minutes with no other care in the world.  Just five damned minutes -- she isn’t greedy! -- to rest.

Rolling to her feet, she grabs the offensive towel out of spite; she could ignore it again but the risk of tripping in her current state outweighs any momentary rebelliousness.  With a flick of her wrist, she tosses it in the direction of the sofa … and then groans when it falls behind it.  Nothing, it seems, can be a win these days …    

It's then she notices her last chance, her one saving grace.  Lying on the coffee table and flipped onto its face is her music datapad.  She crosses the room in three strides and grabs it as well as the earbuds and returns to bed.  A simple touch of her finger to the pad starts the playback.  Something soothing and gentle, she hopes. Something that will transition her failure into sleep so she can get proper sleep to deal with whatever the reapers or Cerberus throw at her next.  You win some, you lose some, she recalls her father saying once so many years ago.  With a sigh, she thinks, Yeah, Pop, but today we lost an important one … one that might just keep us from winning the whole thing ….

She desperately hopes she is wrong on that count.

Lying back, her eyes close and she sighs heavily as the first soft strains of piano filter in.  It isn’t any song she is familiar with, but it has a nice sound to it … and then a deep, powerful, rich voice starts to croon.  Resonate.  

She bolts upright, eyes wide, breath tight in her chest.  She knows that voice!  This isn’t some professional recording, either – there’s a scratchiness in the background that suggests it was recorded over omni-tool.  It also does nothing to hide the way the notes, so vibrant and compelling, meld with words that pull a deep and purely emotional response from within.

I can still taste you on my lips

I can still smell you on my sheets

I can still feel the way you tremble

When I hold you close to me

All thought of blissful peace in unconsciousness flees with the strength of a biotic flare.  And she doesn’t care …

It's like everything about you

Is everything I need

Waking up without you

Is gonna be the death of me

I'm not so use to silence

I can't find you anywhere

The tears are automatic -- between lyrics and music, she cannot help it.  With shaking hands, she lifts the datapad and searches for clues to its owner because it certainly is not hers.

 ~ n ~

 Wearily, Kaidan exits the lift and enters the cabin as silently as he can.  He’s aware, from EDI, that Shepard retreated here after speaking with the asari Councilor, Admiral Hackett, and following up with Liara.  There is a pattern in her retreat, one he isn’t certain she’s aware of, but now is hardly the time to argue about it.  Her constant state of go, go, go in the face of so much adversity without recharging is of concern to him.  She is their pillar of strength at the forefront of this crusade, and she needs it as much if not more than any of the rest of them.  

Still, she is who she is, and that isn’t worth arguing about either; thus the head start in the hopes she might take advantage of the opportunity and for once give in to her own needs.  The fact that she’s here in her cabin suggests she may have.

He enters to darkness, the glow of the fish tank his only guide, but it’s more than enough, particularly for someone used to taking refuge in dark corners for torturous migraines.  He maneuvers through the cabin with grace and skill and very little if any sound …

Until he realizes Shepard is sitting unnaturally upright in the middle of their bed.  Starlight from the overhead window streams down over her; it’s more than enough to see she is shaken.  Something about it, something he can’t put into words, leaves him uneasy.  She turns toward him, their eyes meet, and he finds something hauntingly familiar there.  “Shepard?”

“Kaidan ...”

Her voice is but a rough rasp of a whisper, but her eyes remain on his, on him. He swallows back wariness and descends the steps to sit on the edge of the bed. “Are you alright?”  He is hesitant to reach out in case it startles her, and yet he cannot help himself.  “Have a bad dream?” he asks as he laces his fingers with her free hand.  “Is there something I can --”

She touches a datapad he didn’t see, and the air around them fills with sound.

“It's a lonely Sunday morning

Cuz you left me without warning

And I don't know how to make it through this lonely Sunday morning…”

The words and music are as familiar to him as breathing, but his eyes widen in shock as she sings along.  “How did you …?”

She hands over what turns out to be his music pad.  The one, he realizes, he never tucked back away in the drawer where he normally leaves it because they arrived early to Thessia and the situation there far more dire than anticipated ....

“Kaidan.”  

Her voice cracks on his name and he winces at the pain in it.  “Shepard, let me explain.”

She sets the pad aside and lifts her other hand to frame his cheek, turning his face toward her.  “No need,” she whispers before leaning over to ghost a kiss across his lips.  “I only have one question - why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighs – half in relief, half at the weight of having kept this from her for so long.  “I …”  He drops his gaze to their joined hands.  “Losing you hurt,” he replies.  It’s a simple excuse, too simple for what they’ve been through, but it’s the truth. “I needed a way to let that pain go.”

Against his cheek, he feels her hand tremble.  “Do you … do you think … maybe you could teach me?”

“Hey.” He moves the pad out of the way and pulls her over onto his lap, wraps his arms around her, hums softly with the song. “Next time we’re on the Citadel?”

She nods, tucking her head against his shoulder.  The song kicks into a repeat cycle, softly filling the air around them. “Sing for me?”

He presses a soft kiss to her forehead.

I can still taste you on my lips …

[bee-kathony]

The Oath | Ch. 26 “The Whole Truth”

a/n: finally!!! I feel like it’s taken ages to get here, but it’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for! thank you @lcbeauchampoftarth for all the lovely beta work she has helped me with! Only 4 more chapter to go xoxo

Arc I | Ch. 16 | Ch. 17 | Ch. 18 | Ch. 19 | Ch. 20 | Ch. 21 | Ch. 22 | Ch. 23 | Ch. 24 | Ch. 25

January 15th, 2020

It felt like any normal morning. The sun was shining in the room, the birds were chirping — it was almost idyllic. Jamie’s arm was laying across Claire’s stomach, pinning her to the bed so she couldn’t move. She turned her head to look at him, breathing softly with his head pressed against the pillow, red curls fanning out against the stark white of the sheets.

It felt like a normal morning, but it wasn’t. Today was January 15th… the day they went to court. Hopefully, within a few hours, Frank Randall would be sentenced to time in prison and Hawkins Laboratory would be shut down.

Claire had woken up a few minutes before her alarm, and she sighed, knowing soon that she would have to start the day. She was certain they would win the trial, but the last face she wanted to see today was Frank’s.

The only face she did want to see was lightly snoring an inch away from her. She slowly ran her fingertips across his forehead, brushing away a few curls. He stirred, his eyelids fluttering.

“Mornin’, Sassenach,” he grumbled and yawned.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she smiled and kissed the tip of his nose. “I was enjoying watching you sleep.”

“Were ye?” He grinned, his eyes still closed.

Claire took a hold of his cheeks with one hand and squeezed lightly, making his lips stick out. “I was,” she grinned and kissed him. Jamie’s arms came around her, and he rolled them so she was laying across him.

“I ken that today is verra important, a nighean, but I want nothin’ more than to lie here wi’ ye in my arms,” Jamie sighed and held her tight on top of him.

“I want that too,” Claire laughed as he tickled her sides. Her legs kicked out against him and she buried her face into the curve of his neck. “But if you don’t stop…” she wheezed, “tickling me — I will leave this bed immediately!’

“Who says I’ll let ye go?” Jamie laughed and wrapped his arms tighter around her, digging his fingers into her side and slid them down over her arse.

Claire laughed wiggled her hips against him, feeling him harden underneath her. “Shouldn’t we be preparing for the trial?”

Jamie moved one hand up her body, resting it on her cheek, “We are, Sassenach. Don’t ye ken that sex is good exercise and will help wake ye up?”

“Is that what all the doctors say?” She smirked.

“That’s what my doctor says,” Jamie grinned and rolled them onto their side. “She told me it was very beneficial to start yer day wi’ havin’ sex wi’ yer almost wife.”

“I’ll have to meet this doctor sometime, check her credentials,” Claire smiled, all while sliding her leg in between Jamie’s thighs. Last night, they had fallen asleep quickly after undressing each other slowly. They both knew that they should be tired and wanting nothing but sleep since they had an almost four month old baby in the house. But every time they were in bed with one another, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, like horny teenagers.

“I’d like for ye to meet her,” Jamie adjusted Claire’s hip and reached between their bodies to take hold of his cock. “Maybe she could join us sometime.”

“Jamie!” Claire laughed and put her hand on his chest. “The doctor you’re talking about is me right? So you’re suggesting we have a threesome… with me?”

“If only there were two of ye, a nighean,” Jamie smoothed the curls back from her face. “I think I truly would die. There would be so much of ye to love,” he cupped her arse, squeezing the plump flesh.

“Is that what you think about?” Claire said softly and rolled her hips, feeling the tip of him slide against her entrance. “Two of me and one of you?”

“Sometimes,” he groaned, his eyes shutting briefly as Claire’s hips did sinful things.

“I don’t think you could handle two of me,” Claire said confidently and placed one hand on Jamie’s flank, pulling him into her and they both hissed at the contact.

“Yer probably right, Sassenach,” Jamie’s laugh faded into a moan as he began to thrust into her. Their bodies were pressed together, leaving no room — not even for air. They clung to each another, desperate to be one.

“God… Jamie,” Claire sighed, her mouth pressing sloppy wet kisses against his chest. His hands worked in tandem, one squeezing her arse and the other sliding against her slick folds where they connected.

In three more thrusts, Jamie spilled into her and soon he felt her clench down around him. They stayed wrapped around each other for several moments, each coming down off their high — their mountain.

It was in these moments, the “mountain” moments that life was nearly perfect. When Claire was with Jamie, everything stopped and she could breathe. When she held their daughter in her arms, she was blissfully happy.

But with every mountain, there was a nearby valley. A moment when everything felt so low, that there seemed no way out — no escape. Jamie and Claire had their fair share of mountain moments and today… they would be heading into the valley, facing their biggest fear and worry yet.

++++++

“Ye look good, verra professional.” Jamie commented on Claire’s outfit for the second time that morning. She had chosen a dark green skirt and cream silk blouse. Her hair was pinned meticulously up on her head, and she was wearing her best heels.

Jenny had arrived to watch Madeline just ten minutes before they needed to leave, and now they were sitting in the courthouse with Ned, waiting to be called in. He wouldn’t admit it, but Jamie was nervous. His fingers twitched and tapped against his thigh.

“It’ll be fine,” Claire said as she noticed his tapping and reached over to squeeze his fingers. He glanced at her and his lip flicked up momentarily before falling back into a worried line. This was a day they both never thought would come, but it was necessary to protect their family.

“How long do ye think this will last, Ned?” Jamie asked the smaller man.

“Oh, no more than an hour or so. Our evidence is pretty straightforward and I’m no too sure what Mr. Randall will have to hold against ye,” he said.

“I honestly don’t understand why Frank is going to such lengths,” Claire said through gritted teeth. “It’s so frustrating! He has never even laid eyes on Madeline, why does he want joint-custody of her so badly?”

“Because he wants a piece of ye, Sassenach.” Jamie said, his eyes soft on her. “I’m no sayin’ I would do what he’s done, not at all. But I think he canna let ye go, and this is the only way he kens how to keep a part of ye for himself. It’s a foolish thing to do, but — I maybe understand.”

“A piece of me?” Claire repeated. “If he wanted a piece of me, then he shouldn’t have cheated on me with another woman! Then he would have had the whole damn piece!” She threw her hands up in the air, annoyed with men and their backwards way of thinking.

“I didna say Frank was a smart man, Sassenach,” Jamie smirked. “Far from it, actually. He may have his other reasons for wantin’ joint-custody and forging the test, reasons I’m sure he’ll either tell us in there or keep to himself.”

“I highly doubt he will tell us the whole truth and nothing but the truth,” Claire scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Lying is what Frank Randall does best,” she said and crossed her arms.

Claire heart Jamie snicker beside her and she looked over at him to see him smiling.

“What are you so happy about?”

“Och, tis nothing,” he grinned.

“No, tell me,” she poked his arm.

“Ye just look so damn cute when yer cross, mo nighean donn,” Jamie slid his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a kiss. “I like it when yer eyebrows knit together right there,” he tapped on her forehead.

“You only like it because I’m not cross with you!” She pointed her finger at his chest.

“Aye, true,” he laughed. “And I find ye cute no matter what expression crosses that bonny wee face of yers.”

Jamie kissed her again and she laid her head to rest on his shoulder. They had left Madeline at home, away from all this drama, but now, Claire was wishing she had their daughter to hold and hug.

It was another twenty minutes before they heard their names being called and together, they all made their way into the courtroom. Ned walked up to the table on the left and sat down, immediately opening his briefcase with all their evidence. Claire and Jamie sat next to him, sitting up straight and trying to appear calm. Mary Hawkins was sitting just two rows behind them, awaiting the time to be called as their witness.

As Claire turned to look around the room, she spotted Frank and his lawyer walking in. The sight of him gave her chills. The last time she had seen him was when Jamie beat him within an inch of his life. And besides their phone conversation just days after receiving the fake paternity test in the mail, they hadn’t spoken since.

Frank had a charming face, one that was inviting and warm. She had fallen in love with that face, and had spent many afternoons caressing his cheeks and smoothing out the lines on his cheeks. He met her eye and one side of his mouth turned up, a look of steely determination staring back at her. Whatever Claire had felt for this man — all that sentiment was long gone.

A minute later, the judge came into the room and they all rose from their seats.

“Please be seated,” the judge said and the sound of chairs being pushed back filled the room.

It felt like hours before he spoke. Claire began to nervously tap her foot, her heel clicking against the tile floor.

“Good afternoon everyone,” the judge said. “Today, we are here for the case of Fraser versus Randall to determine the legitimacy of a paternity test. We are also here for the case of Fraser versus Hawkins Laboratory. It is my understanding that both of these cases coincide and have a direct relation. Here today are James Fraser and his fiancé, Frank Randall, and Silas Hawkins from Hawkins Labratory.”

The judge looked at something in front of him, and then looked first at Claire and Jamie, and then over to Frank and his lawyer.

“I will allow both parties to make opening statements. We will have the prosecution up on the stand first, followed by the defendant,” the judge said and motioned his hand for Claire or Jamie to take the stand. Only one of them needed to go up for now to state their case, and they had decided before hand that it would be Jamie.

He squeezed Claire’s hand, and rose from his seat. A wave of calm washed over him — this was the time for the truth to come out. Placing his hand over the Bible, Jamie said the oath.

“I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

The judge nodded his head at Jamie and told him to take the stand.

“Please present your case, Mr. Fraser.”

Jamie began from the beginning — the night he met Claire. He told the courtroom how it wasn’t until months later that he found out that Claire was with child, but from that moment, he became involved in her and the child’s life.

“Even if the child wasna mine, I promised that I would love her no matter what and protect her from harm,” Jamie said. “I had to protect her from this man right here, Frank Randall, when he tried to attack Claire and demand she go with him from her home.”

Claire noticed Frank shift uncomfortably in his seat, but Jamie continued with the unfolding of events.

“When we received the results of the paternity test, I was crushed. The results said that I wasn’t Madeline’s father, and it was something I didn’t think possible. Ye see, our daughter has red hair just like mine, and she has my smile and eyes. Anyone who sees her, remarks on our similarities.”

Jamie smiled as he thought of his daughter, the very essence of him — all the best things.

“It’s because of those similarities that Claire and I decided to find another laboratory and only have me tested. We thought maybe there was some mistake and things were switched up by accident at Hawkins Lab,” he said. “Several days later we received the results stating that I was the father of Madeline Fraser.”

Muttering could be heard around the few people in the room, and the judge banged his gavel, “Silence,” he said loudly and then motioned for Jamie to continue.

“That’s when we knew that Mr. Randall had forged the first paternity test and had the help of Hawkins Laboratory in doing so. We’re here today to put an end to this once and for all. Madeline Fraser is my daughter by blood, and I intend to use my rights as her father to protect her.”

As Jamie finished, Claire dared a glance over at Frank. He was sitting up straight, his arms crossed over his chest with a stern look on his face. She was hoping he was kicking himself for forgetting the small detail of how Madeline would resembler her actual father.

“You may take your seat, Mr. Fraser,” the judge said and Jamie stood and joined Claire. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, and took her hand in his. He was shaking slightly, from nerves or anger, Claire didn’t know.

“We will now have the defendant, Mr. Frank Randall to the stand, please come forward.”

Frank rose, an almost smug look on his face — of course, for show. When he approached the bench, he took the same oath that Jamie did and then his seat.

“Mr. Randall, you are being charged with forgery of documents and sexual harassment of a one Mary Hawkins who we have present today with us. Please state your case when you’re ready,” the judge motioned for Frank to begin.

Claire kept her eyes focused on him, daring him to lie one more time under oath. No matter what he said, he was ruined — the new paternity test they had confirmed he had lied.

He cleared his throat and began his side of things.

“What Mr. Fraser neglected to tell the court today about why we were both tested for the paternity of Madeline, is that Claire Beauchamp had sexual relations with myself and then not even twenty-four hours later with Mr. Fraser,” Frank said.

“So, you can see why I would want a paternity test done, and I was the one that requested it in the first place. As to these claims of forgery, who’s to say that Claire and Jamie didn’t forge the second paternity test?” He scoffed.

“Moving on to the second claim made against me, sexual harassment,” he cleared his throat and rolled his eyes slightly. “I object to any such claims.”

Bold move, bastard.

“Final statements, Mr. Randall,” the judge said.

“As Mr. Fraser said in his testimony, he had to protect Claire from me… by using his fists. I have my hospital bill from the night of the event a few nearly six months ago. Granted, I was a little under the drink, but he left me bloody and beaten to a pulp.”

Jamie tensed beside Claire, and she wrapped her hand around his arm. He met her eye and then looked over at Frank. They knew one day that night would come back to haunt them. It was true, Jamie had beaten Frank very badly, it had scared Claire half to death.

“I think I’ve said all I need to for now,” Frank finished and rose from his chair to join his lawyer.

“Now that we’ve heard from both the prosecution and the defendant, we’ll take a ten minute recess and then we’ll call the witnesses to the stand,” the judge said and banged his gavel.

Frank was first to move and he walked out of the room, followed by his lawyer, sparing no glance at either Jamie or Claire. Laying her head briefly on his shoulder, Claire sighed and closed her eyes. The worst of it was over, now all that was left was for Mary to speak on the stand and for the judge to decide.

“Ye did well, lad,” Ned smiled proudly and gave him a pat on the back.

“You really did, babe,” Claire smiled and kissed him. “We know that Frank is lying about the sexual harassment charges. Mary will tell her side of things and clear that up. And she can provide proof that he made her forge the documents.”

“I really dinna ken why he’s so bent on sticking to his story,” Jamie shook his head. “Does he really think he can win?”

“I suppose so,” Claire shrugged. “I always thought he was a smart man, but maybe now… he’s trapped in a web of his own lies.”

“Trapped indeed, Sassenach,” Jamie grumbled. “I need some water, I’ll be back.”

He left her, and Claire turned in her seat to find that Mary had moved up to sit directly behind them.

“Are you ready, Mary? You still want to do this?” Claire asked.

“Y-yes,” the girl nodded. “After hearing him lie about what he did t-to me, I have to tell the truth.”

“You’re a very brave girl,” Claire smiled. “I can’t possibly thank you enough.”

“You can thank me by letting me babysit for Madeline sometime,” Mary smiled. “She’s the cutest little girl I’ve ever seen!”

“Of course,” Claire grinned. “She seemed to like you the other day.”

A moment later, Jamie rejoined them and the judge took the stand once again. Ned rose from his seat, and said, “The prosecution calls Mary Hawkins to the stand.”

The young girl stood and walked slowly up to the stand to take the oath. She was a stick of a thing, and reminded Claire of a small bird. Now, it was Ned’s turn to question her and he approached the stand.

“Miss Mary,” he smiled kindly towards her. “Can you please tell the court what happened on November 6th, 2019?”

She nodded and began to tell the room everything she had told Jamie and Claire just weeks ago. The horrible details about how Frank pushed her against the wall, threatening to do worse if she didn’t comply. Hearing the story again made Claire’s stomach twist in knots and she would have given anything to be able to punch Frank, but this wasn’t the time nor place.

“And it’s your family that owns the laboratory where the test was done, is that correct Miss Hawkins?” Ned asked and Mary said yes it was.

“And not only does your family own the laboratory, but you are engaged to be married to Mr. Randall’s youngest brother Alexander?”

“Yes,” Mary said.

Claire looked over at Frank who was now fidgeting in his seat. It appears he hadn’t expected for Mary to be so forthcoming with the truth. Blood is thicker than water, that’s for sure, but when your own family threatens you and sets to ruin the lives of others… you do what you must.

“So as ye can see, your honor,” Ned said. “Mary Hawkins was threatened wi’ rape by Frank Randall so that she would forge the documents of the paternity test. Is there anythin’ ye’d like to add Miss Hawkins?”

“This wasn’t the first time the laboratory had forged documents,” she said into the microphone. “I was threatened to do it, but I’ve witnessed on many occasions documents being changed and large sums of money being exchanged.”

“Very interesting,” the judge said and looked at a sheet of paper in front of him.

Once Mary was finished, she and Ned took their seats. When the judge asked if Frank had any witnesses, his lawyer said no. So it seemed that Frank was really willing to do down with the ship, full steam ahead. All the cards were stacked against him.

“Upon hearing both testimonies and a compelling statement from the witness, I’ve come to my decision,” the judge said. Claire was shocked at how quickly he had decided, but they did have all the evidence on their side.

“It is my decree that Hawkins Laboratory be immediately shut down and a financial restitution of five hundred thousand dollars be rewarded to Mr. Jamie Fraser and Ms. Claire Beauchamp.”

Claire gasped and grabbed Jamie’s hand, squeezing tight. They had one their first battle. The lab would be shut down once and for all, and something like this couldn’t happen again. They both held their breaths for the reading of Frank’s verdict.

“In the case of Fraser versus Randall, I decree that Mr. Randall is guilty on both charges against him. The first being sexual harassment and the second being forgery of official documents which is penalized by a $40,000 fine and a three year prison sentence.” The judge banged his gavel and then it was over. Just like that.

Frank was going to prison for three years.

Claire felt something beside her and looked to see Jamie tugging on her shirt to pull her up into a tight bear hug. He squeezed her, burying his face in her neck. As they released, they saw two police officers putting Frank into handcuffs and they escorted him out of the room. He stopped walking and met Claire’s eye and gave her the most chilling smile.

“Christ,” she muttered. “What a psychopath.”

“We won, Sassenach!” Jamie kissed her cheek. “We dinna every have to think of Frank Randall again. We won!”

Claire hugged him again and then thanked Ned for all of his help.

“Och, twas nothin’ lass. Yer case was easy to represent,” he kissed her cheek and began to pack up all his things.

Mary came over to them to celebrate and Claire held her close.

“You did the right thing, Mary. I know it feels like you might have betrayed your family, but you just stopped a lot of bad things from happening.”

The girl smiled, “I’ll have to have a difficult conversation with my uncle and now I guess I’ll need to find another job.”

“Dinna fash, lass,” Jamie said as he slid his arm around Claire’s shoulders. “I’m sure we can find ye a position at Fraser & Co.”

“That would be w-wonderful!” The girl smiled and hugged him. “If you’ll both excuse me, I need to call Alex and tell him what’s happened. He’ll be anxious to find out what’s become of his brother.”

Jamie and Claire walked out of the room, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off of their shoulders. It hardly felt real. They had been living with this burden for weeks now, truly months. In the span of an hour, Frank had been sentenced to prison and they had been awarded five hundred thousand dollars.

They had to finish signing some legal documents, but once that was all clear, they walked outside into the crisp cool Scottish air.

“Do ye feel richer, Sassenach?” Jamie chuckled.

“It hasn’t quite sunk in yet,” Claire replied. “Besides, I don’t know what to do with all that money.”

“I’m sure we’ll think of somethin’, mo nighean donn,” Jamie kissed her temple. “I suppose we’d better get home. We have a lot of explaining to do to our family.”

“And I want to see Madeline,” Claire smiled.

“Aye, of course.”

Together, they climbed into the car and drove home, free of worries and filled with possibilities.

Chapter 27: I Smell Snow

[brothershardy]

Without Me

Tagging: @minxchester @sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor / @my-malleable-muse @wincestismyguiltypleasure @amyriadofmuses @loyaltywon

Premise: In 1918, at the ripe age of eleven years old, Frank Hardy was tricked into selling his soul to a crossroads demon in an effort to save his ten year old brother from dying of cancer. The hounds claimed Frank in 1928 when he was twenty one; he managed to last three Earth years, or three hundred Hell years, on the rack, with the warping process going wrong when he finally broke, and he was eventually kicked out of Hell for being defected. He hasn’t had contact with any of his living family members since then, until a sunny spring day in 1998.

(*)

A lot could change in the span of over seventy years. Frank had seen that, never changing, always constant, always in the background. He did what he could to make up for his demonic nature, only ever going after the truly horrid souls that wandered this wretched world, but sometimes it felt like it wasn’t enough. There was nothing he could do to wash away this taint in his blood, the blackness that swirled within him.

Except for today.

He knew it was coming. He had known that things were dwindling down for some time. Like a fading string that was attached to his chest, connecting him to the one piece of humanity he had left, thin and ready to snap at any moment. And so this morning, he dressed impeccably in the clothes he had not worn in quite some time. The nineties were outrageous where fashion was concerned, though he had gotten very fond of the grunge section, with the baggy ripped jeans and the large comfortable flannels and the warm leather jackets.

No. Today he dragged out the crisp white shirt, and the tailor made trousers, the suspenders keeping them up as always. He combed his hair to perfection, adding a little grease to keep it down and groomed, and then he pulled on the jacket before heading off, teleporting straight to the nursing home where he was gently being guided towards.

This nursing home was a lot different than most. “Assisted living”, they called it; elderly folks could come here to live in small clean apartments, able to keep as independent lives as possible, with nurses and doctors and even a few nuns and priests nearby to help when being independent was nearly impossible. He breezed past the clerk, not even sparing her a glance as he compelled her to not notice him, and he made his way to the elevator, pressing the button to allow himself up on the third floor, down the winding hallways until he came upon room C505. J. Hardy was scrawled on the plaque underneath the number, and Frank allowed himself inside.

It was a pleasant little living space. Everything was so bright and cheerful, pictures on the walls dedicated to family members he both recognized from his human life, to nieces and nephews he would never get to meet. Recent Easter cards were still propped up on the living room’s coffee table, alongside a few family portraits that had been done for the holiday. In the little bowl near the radio lay a few family rings, and Frank plucked one out, sliding it onto his finger, before moving on to the bedroom, easing the door open and pausing at the sight of the elderly man laying there looking out the window, where the view of the ocean in the distance made things look almost hopeful.

Eventually, the man turned his head, and those bright blue eyes that Frank knew so well in his memories, eyes that had grown so much wiser, but never lost that spark of laughter in them, lit up at the sight of him. “Frank.” Even the somewhat wavery tone was stronger than expected, filled with so much warmth and love that Frank nearly felt breathless from it. “It’s been so long.”

“You’ve gotten old, little brother,” Frank said fondly.

Joe gave a raspy chuckle. “And you haven’t. What a shame. I guess you were always destined to be the more handsome Hardy.”

“Hey, give me some credit.” Frank smiled gently, wandering deeper into the room, and closer to the man’s bedside. “Brains and beauty, one of them was bound to fade with age. I couldn’t risk either one.”

Joe laughed again, and for a many in his nineties, he still looked younger than his age. His skin was faded and wrinkled, dotted with age spots, his freckles had faded, and even his once thick golden curls had receded somewhat into thinner, white strands. But he still looked so youthful in the eyes, a bright shining soul that could never be dimmed. It was one of his more appealing traits.

It was the first time in decades since Frank had allowed himself to get this close to the brother he held so dearly, and it made his heart ache to know it was going to be the last time as well. He could sense it, the life force that kept his brother going, beginning to fade. The Fates would let his candle burn to nothing, but at least it would be a quiet peaceful death. Joe wouldn’t suffer.

“I’ve missed you,” Joe admitted, looking to Frank like he hung the moon. “So many things happened since you died that I wish you could have been there for. You know Iola and I had five kids? Five!”

“Yes, I know,” Frank said softly.

“And of course they had to breed like rabbits, so I got sixteen grandkids, and they gave me two great grandkids. I’ve got a third on the way. Due in June. They said it’s gonna be a little boy.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. And Veronica said they’re gonna name him Frances. Keep the name in the family, you know.” Joe grinned a little. “Poor kid. That name hasn’t aged well in the past century.”

“Neither has Myrtle, but you don’t see your daughter complaining about it.”

“Hey! That was a beautiful name in the thirties. Besides, Iola chose it.” Joe sighed a little, looking fond. “Could never say no to Iola. I miss her too. She passed on a couple of years ago but you probably know about that already.”

Frank nodded, remembering Iola Morton in her own youth. Small in height, vivacious to a fault, with black hair framing a pixie shaped face and eyes so brown they looked like soil after a good hearty rainfall. She had always been Joe’s favorite date. Knowing they had married had always made Frank feel a little warm in the chest, and he had been sorry to hear she had died a few years previous. 

“It’s been lonely without you,” Joe said after a long minute of contemplation. “Sometimes I get confused, you know. I wake up thinking we’re still young and vibrant. Sometimes it feels like you’re still here.” He looked up at his brother then, the smile a bit faded as well, brows pinched with worry. “Did you suffer? When you died. I... They never told us...”

Frank could still remember that night with crystal clarity. How the howls of the hellhounds had gotten close for the last week of his life. How he spent his last evening with his family, keeping them close, letting them know how much he loved them, before going on “one last walk” before bed. How he had run, not to try and escape the hounds, but to lead them away from his family, and the feeling of their fangs sinking into his skin when they caught up to him.

“It happened fast,” Frank said softly. “I barely remember a thing.” Then, on impulse, he reached out to gently take his brother’s hand, feeling how fragile he was now, with age and as a human in general, how cool he was already to the touch. “I’m not in any pain, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh... Good.” Joe looked relieved then, and he managed to give Frank’s fingers a quick squeeze. “I’m sure Heaven is a lot more fun than this rickety old planet. I always hoped that you’d be the one to come get me. One last adventure, just you and me.”

A lump filled Frank’s throat, his eyes burning rapidly with the swell of tears he tried valiantly to keep down. Covering Joe’s hand with both of his own, he managed a smile. “Heaven is a wonder.” Or so he had been told. “It’s filled with your happiest memories. You’ll never feel pain, or hunger or cold or loneliness. It’ll be like you’re young again, I promise. You’ll be safe there.”

“And we’ve got all of eternity to catch up.” The smile that Joe gave him was nearly blinding. “I’ve done so much here. All the cases I’ve solved, the people I’ve helped. And my kids, everything they’ve managed to do to continue our legacy...”

“I know. I’m so proud of you, Joe. You’ve accomplished so much.” The fading lifeforce was getting weaker now, he could feel it. And thought it felt like his heart was shattering, Frank forced his smile to remain. “The world will be a little less lively without you in it to cause trouble.”

“Hey I don’t cause trouble. Trouble causes me.” A small laugh sounded, and then Joe closed his eyes then, sighing. “Does it hurt to die?”

“No,” Frank murmured. “Not like this. It’s as easy as falling asleep.”

“You’ll stay with me, right?”

“Every second. I promise.” His smile was shaky now, and it was a struggle to keep his tone steady. “You’re the best little brother a fella could ever ask for.”

“Well leapin’ lizards, Frank, you’re going to make me blush.”

Frank laughed quietly. And he sat there, the entire fifteen minutes, holding his brother’s hand, listening as his heartbeat slowed, and his breathing got fainter, before he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I love you.”

One breath out, and then it was done.

(*)

Two weeks later, after a generous and anonymous donation to the remaining Hardy family, the funeral happened with grand respect. Like their father before them, Joe had made a name for himself in Bayport as one of the best and brightest private investigators, while also being a wonderful asset to the community. He was honored and remembered as a very kind and compassionate man who loved his family to pieces, who helped to keep Bayport running and safe, who ran programs for kids who needed the extra help, and always had an open door policy to whoever needed a shoulder to cry on, for a good long hug and a warm meal with a safe bed to sleep in.

It was a very sad day when Joe died, and his funeral had almost the entire town in attendance, with a 21 gun salute in his honor for his military services. People cried during the funeral itself, hugging each other and offering comfort, and when his coffin was laid to rest, it was beside his wife, with their parents on either side of their markers, with flowers and teddy bears being left behind.

Frank strayed in the very back, unnoticed by everyone, dressed all in black. His nieces, nephews and grand nieces and nephews all attended, and he could see them with their spouses, wishing Joe a private goodbye one at a time before leaving, and by late afternoon the cemetery was deserted, allowing Frank to finally walk up to the gravestones with a bouquet of roses in his hands to lay down over the freshly dug mound. Plucking several roses from the bouquet, he also laid one in front of the markers for his aunt, Gertrude, and his parents, Laura and Fenton, as well as Iola. 

The last marker, his own marker, remained bare. He couldn’t imagine why he would lay a flower where he was supposed to have been laid to rest after he died. It felt too strange.

Kneeling there in the grass, tears finally streaming from his eyes, all Frank could think about was his family, buried six feet below him, and wishing that someday, hopefully, he could properly join them.

[emmabodt]

Mission Success: Chapter 17

It was deathly quiet as Porco and Pieck made their way to the gates of Liberio. The bronze haired man stood stiffly with a ramrod straight spine, keeping his blue eyes on the cobblestones below his feet. Pieck silently followed his example with her arm looped through his, staying as close as she could. She was still wearing his jacket, but Porco couldn't care less about it at the moment. All he could feel was dread. He could already see his parent's faces when he told them. It would crush them.

A light squeeze on his hand made him look down at Pieck. She was looking up at him with sad, somber expression that went against her normally calm and mischievously cheerful look.

"We're almost at the gate," she whispered, letting her head fall against the arm entwined with hers. Porco lifted his eyes to see the familiar barbed fence just ahead of them, and felt the world crash down on his shoulders.

"Yeah..."

A few minutes later, they arrived at the gate and were stopped by Peregrine and Meriadoc as usual.

"Well, hello Mr. Galliard and Miss Pieck! What a pretty picture you two....hey, something wrong? You both look like you're going to a funeral..." Meriadoc said, his cheerful smile turning into a concerned frown. Peregrine stared at the pair with question marks in his eyes.

Porco flipped out his pass without raising his eyes to either of them. Pieck also held out her pass with a heavy look, pointing her head at Porco.

"In a way, we are... Marcel... Surely you understand," she whispered. The guards immediately shut their mouths and quietly opened the gate for them, keeping their eyes to the ground. When it opened, the somber duo walked through the gates as the guards took off their hats and placed them on their chests, watching the young Warriors enter Liberio.

"Wow....so they finally came home," Meriadoc whispered.

Peregrine sighed." Apparently, only three did. Poor Marcel...he was such a great kid."

Meriadoc somberly put the hat back on his head." I feel really bad for Galliard. He just lost his brother, and now he has to break the news to his parents..."

Peregrine shook his head and placed the hat back on his head." That is going to be rough."

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

It was a quiet day in Liberio, quieter than it normally was, and Porco was glad for it. He didn't have the patience or the effort to deal with unimportant bullshit right now. At least Pieck was supporting him on the walk home, or he might've hightailed it back to H.Q.

"Pock?..."

He tilted his head down to look at Pieck." Hmm?"

"When we get to your house, do you want me to come in with you?"

Porco looked back at his feet and sighed."...No. I appreciate the offer....but I want to this alone. You could go see your old man while I break the news."

Pieck shook her head, her cheek rubbing his arm." Father is pretty busy on Thursday, so he won't have time to visit with me. Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?"

Porco nodded silently. Pieck sighed quietly and squeezed his hand." Okay."

The next twenty minutes were spent in silence as the duo walked through the town. Here and there, they would come across the occasional gaggle of gap toothed youths playing in the street who would squeal and watch them with stars in their eyes before going back to their games. Their mothers were probably shopping at the market before taking their children to school. That's what Porco's own mother had done before he and Marcel signed up for the Program.

Porco's heart twisted cruelly as the memory passed through his head. Marcel would never get to remember those times, and laugh at all their shenanigans. He would never walk the streets of his hometown again, never get to meet a nice girl, settle down, have kids. Marcel would never get to try liquor or cigars with his brother. They would never mess up the meeting rooms together ever again. And Marcel...would never turn the corner to their house, walk up the steps, and give their parents one of his dazzling smiles...

Porco quickly blinked away the tears in his eyes, refusing to let them fall as he took a shaky deep breath. He didn't cry, ever. Period. And if he did, it would be in the dead of night, alone, where no one could see his pain. He was too proud for anything else.

His hand was gently squeezed again as Pieck stopped walking." We're here, Pock."

Porco raised his blue eyes to see he was standing right in front of his house. He stood there, staring at the front doors as he felt his chest tighten with despair. He couldn't do this. He couldn't tell his parents that they had lost one of their sons. Porco turned around to walk back the way they came, but Pieck's firm grip on his arm kept him from taking more than a single step.

"Pock... They need to know. And you need to tell them. It's better to hear it from you than a stranger," she whispered. Porco bit his lip. She was right; Pieck was always right about everything. He slowly turned back around to look at her. Pieck had an understanding look on her face; she probably knew all too well what she was talking about. Doctors like her father had to deliver bad news every now and then, too.

"Alright. I'll see you later, Pieck." Porco's arm was released when he moved forward toward the step leading up to the front door. Each step up felt heavier than the last. When he reached the porch, the bronze haired man looked behind him to see that Pieck had already vanished. With a sigh, he turned back to door in front of him and opened it. The faint, lingering scent of fresh bread tickled his nose as he walked through and shut the door behind him. Home sweet home.

"Jared? Is that you?" a woman's voice called. Porco bit his lip.

"Nope."

There was a beat of silence before light footsteps approached. A moment later, an middle aged woman with red hair and brown eyes rounded the corner. When she saw the bronze haired boy in the foyer, her pretty face split into a warm smile.

"Porco! What a pleasant surprise! I didn't expect you to come home so soon!" she said, going up to her son and embracing him. Porco returned it with one arm, suddenly forgetting how to breathe thanks to the tightness of his chest. His mother must have noticed how stiff he was because she pulled back with a concerned frown, looking up at his face.

"Porco?... Are you okay? You usually have a moody,tough-guy scowl on your face but today...you seem really glum."

Porco shrugged, brushing past his mother toward the living room." Is Dad home?"

His mother blinked, taken aback by his quiet tone." Well, not at the moment,,but he should be back soon. We're out of coffee..."

Porco sighed, settling himself on the couch." Okay."

His mother settled herself in the couch opposite him, brow still furrowed in concern." How is it back at headquarters?"

Porco shrugged, keeping his gaze on his feet." The usual. Training is a pain. Zeke is a pain. Pieck is annoying."

The red haired woman sighed with a tiny smile." Same as always."

The sound of the door opening made them both turn their heads towards the foyer, where a tall, chocolate haired man stood, shrugging off his jacket.

"Claire, I'm back with the cof- Oh! Porco, what are you doing here so early?"

Porco's frown became tighter as his father approached." Special permission from Magath."

Jared sat down next to his wife, concern written on his face. Just like Claire, he noticed something was tamping down Porco's spirit." What inspired this "special permission"?"

Porco's hands fisted on his knees as he bent his head, his eyes falling into shadow. He could feel bitterness bubbling up in his throat. The time had come to tell them.

"...I have good news....and bad news."

There was a beat of silence before his father said," Go on..."

Porco grit his teeth, fighting back an unexpected onslaught of tears. This was a lot harder than he thought it would be.

"The good news...the Warriors that were on the Paradis Island Operation came home about a week ago."

Both his parent's face lit up." Wonderful! Finally, after five long years, we get to see Marcel again! I wonder how big he is..." His mother was practically glowing with happiness. His father looked ten years younger.

"So, when will he come home, Porco? I can't wait-"

"He isn't."

Silence fell, instant, thick, and heavy. His mother blinked.

"What?"

"That's the bad news," Porco whispered, his voice cracking. His dignity and composure were gone, replaced by a twisted pain in his heart." Marcel...didn't come home."

More silence. Jared's face fell and turned a sickly white. Claire stood up, a faltering smile on her face.

"So...he's still on the island, right?... He'll come back with the next ship..."

"I'm sorry." A single tear rolled down his cheek before he quickly wiped it away. Both his parents saw it.

"Marcel...he isn't coming home, is he?...Porco?.." Jared asked, his face crumbling with grief.

Porco nodded." He...got eaten when they got on the island. I'm sorry."

Claire sat, shaken, and started trembling." ...My....My baby boy.....is dead....," she whispered, shaking hands covering her quivering mouth. Tears started leaking from her eyes at an uncontrollable rate as she began to wail." My baby! Marcel! Why?! Why was he killed?! MY BABY!!!"

Jared, who also started crying, pulled his wife into a hug as she sobbed. Porco couldn't watch this. It was too much. He could feel his tears about to spring out. He stood up and looked at his father.

"Dad...I gotta go..."

Jared looked at him and gave him a small nod, understanding the situation. Porco wasn't good at grief. No one was.

Porco nodded back before turning around and walking towards the door, hastily wiping at his eyes. He could still hear his mother sobbing in his head as he hurried back to H.Q.

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

Porco collapsed face first on his bed with a long sigh. His day had been complete shit. Telling his parents Marcel was dead, cleaning up a meeting room that Ymir had messed up, and talking to the girl who killed his brother had taken it out of him. Pieck, who had walked back to H.Q. after getting him to his house, had practically forced him to sit down and eat before letting go to his room.

Groaning, the bronze haired man rolled on his back. Good old Pieck, she'd put his jacket back on the bed post. He reached out his hand and fingered the old leather thoughtfully. He was lucky to have a friend like Pieck. She seemed to know exactly what he needed when he needed it. Guess you get a knack for it when you've known someone long enough.

She was also really pretty.

Knock Knock Knock.

Porco huffed. Just because he liked her didn't mean he wanted to see her right now.

"Go away, Pikku."

The door opened as Pieck ignored his command, walking towards his bed. When she got to the edge, she bent over to see him better, face still somber.

"You okay, Pock?"

Porco rolled over on his side, staring at the wall and giving his visitor a great view of his back. Pieck sighed before crawling into the bed. Porco stiffened as she  crawled up near his head.

"Leave me alone, Pieck."

Again, she didn't listen. Instead, Pieck started to run her hand through his hair, letting her fingers sift through the bronze strands. It felt...nice. Over and over, front to back, Pieck's fingers worked until he relaxed. Feeling him relax, Pieck sighed.

"How did it go?" she asked gently. Porco groaned.

"Just as well as you'd expect."

Pieck hummed in response, her fingers still working through his hair." Are you okay?"

Porco inhaled sharply. He could feel the tears coming back." I'm fine."

Pieck wasn't convinced. She gently lifted his head and settled it on her lap, still stroking his hair. Porco fought against the tears, determined not to cry. Pieck leaned over, her hair tickling his neck as she whispered in his ear.

"It's okay to cry, Pock..."

Porco let out a low growl as the first tear slid down his face. It was followed by another, and another, until there was a steady stream of tears flowing down his face.

"You tell anyone about this, and I'll..."

"Shh...This will stay between you and me," Pieck cooed, closing her eyes as tears of her own started." Promise."

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

Word Count: 2130

I am super sad and angsty right now. Chapter 119 has me so...ANGSTY!

Next Chapter is going to be HAPPY! And cute....

[sgtbradfords]

A Chance at Happiness

Pairing: Deputy!Dean x Reader; Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Infertility, abandonment, language

Summary: One call could change everything.

This is part of my Occupational Heroes series! I do not have a Series Masterlist at the moment but you can read the previous and first fic here. A reminder that while some of what I have written is actual information, other is pure fiction.

Dean Winchester had just walked up to the one-story brick building, fixing to scan his county issued badge that allows him access into the Smith County Sheriff’s Department in the city of Lebanon Kansas to begin his shift when he heard it, the slight whimper of an infant. Dean looked around at the parking lot and towards the empty street, seeing nothing but rows of streetlights as far as the eye could see.

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head, thinking that maybe the stress of everything in his personal life was making him hear things. He pulled up the badge once again that hung with the keys on his duty belt, placing it onto the sensor by the door when he heard another whimper.

“Sheriff’s Office” he commanded turning around as his right hand undone the snap of the holster on his duty belt, pulling out his gun “Is there someone out here?” he asked, pressing the button for the flashlight.

The light illuminated the small concrete covered porch, showing the potted plants by the door, a medium sized cardboard box, the mailbox hanging on the brick and mortar…

‘Wait…’ Dean thought as he quickly moved the light back to the box, taking small precision steps forwards.

“Dispatch. This is 803, I need back up at the Sheriff’s office. Send me an ambulance.” He spoke urgently into the radio on his left shoulder.

“803. Back-up is en-route can you describe the situation?” The feminine voice spoke on the other side.

Dean knelt onto the concrete, holstering his gun as he lifted the flaps of the box, reaching into the box gently, pulling out an infant swaddled in a pink blanket.

“Hey, little one. What are you doing all alone out here?” he spoke softly, pulling her closer to his chest. “Looks like someone dropped you off huh?” Dean said, moving the baby around, looking for some kind of note attached to her clothes or in the box.

The infant began to stir more, opening her blue eyes as Dean was able to spot some writing on one of the box flaps, thanks to the rising sun.

“Aren’t you just a cutie?” he cooed, gently rubbing a hand over her head of brown hair, cautiously bouncing the baby.

“Winchester! Everything all right?!” someone yelled across the parking lot as they shut their patrol car door, quickly approaching the scene.

“Everything’s 10-4! Med unit on their way?” he asked turning around.

“Is that…” the person spoke.

“She was in the cardboard box next to the plants. She was whimpering in her sleep or else I would have never of seen her.” Dean said as the infant began to squirm, her arms flying out of her blanket as she stretched before relaxing into Dean’s hold.

“Box says she’s only a few days old, but it doesn’t give a name.” The other deputy said as the ambulance pulled up.

Dean smiled, swaying back and forth as she began to whimper. “Shhh… It’s ok baby, we will figure this out and get you a clean bottom and a full belly.” He promised.

Twenty minutes later and Dean was sitting on a hospital bed in the Emergency Room, bottle feeding the now clean and sleeping infant in his arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to feed her?” a nurse asked as they check in on them.

“When they took her for blood work and a newborn checkup, she screamed bloody murder until she was in my arms again. I don’t think I want to subject Mrs. Wallace three curtains down to that again.” He joked as he placed a burp cloth on his shoulder, before moving the infant into an upright position, gently patting her back.

“Looks like you’ve done this before.” The nurse smiled.

“Yeah, my brother.”

“Well Social Services will be by soon, I’ll leave you two be.”

Dean nodded his head in appreciation, continuing to burp the baby before he began moving around. laying her down onto the bed in between his legs. Dean sighed as he laid back onto the bed, pulling out his phone.

‘Hope your having a better morning than I am babe.’ Your message read.

Dean took a picture of the scene in front of him. ‘You could say that…’

“Alright Mr. Winchester looks like she is a perfectly healthy nine-pound eight-ounce baby,” Dr. Baker said as she pulled back the privacy curtain. “and judging by her height right now, she is going to be one tall little girl. Unfortunately, since we know nothing about the mother or father, we can only guess about certain things until the blood work comes back and even then, what we will know will be scarce.”

“When will the blood work be back?”

“I put a rush on it but they are testing for multiple things so it should be back tomorrow evening. I can tell you that she is not suffering from any withdraws and appears to have been full term.” She told him, observing the baby on the bed. “It makes your heart break doesn’t it? Wondering how someone could throw someone so innocent out like that…”

Dean took a second to speak the right words “Sometimes it takes heartbreak in order to get happiness. We don’t know what the mother’s home life is like, they could have killed her or done something so vile it would be hard to wrap our heads around but they chose to give her a better chance.”

“You sound like you’ve been through some heartache before Deputy.” The doctor observed.

“My wife and I… Let me just say the past few years haven’t been easy.”

“Maybe this could be your chance at happiness.” She said as before walking away.

Dean had just gotten up to stretch his legs when his cellphone rang.

“This is Dean.”

“You would not believe the case I was handed today.”

“Hey Sammy.” Dean smiled.

“This could be a career maker. I am talking making partner.”

“That’s great Sam. What’s the case?”

Sam spent the next few minutes telling his brother what he could about the case, “How’s things up North? You and [Y/N] good?” Sam asked as he was currently employed at an office in Oklahoma.

“Yeah, were good. [Y/N] has been running around like a mad woman trying to get everything in place before the get together this weekend and I’m babysitting.”

“Babysitting?”

“I found a baby safe havened at the department this morning. I’m waiting on Social Services to show up to tell me what I need to do and all that shit.”

“Have you thought about-“

“Yes. And I’m not doing anything without discussing it over with [Y/N] first.”

“Well if you need me to look over any paperwork or write something up, I should be there tonight.”

“Thank you Sammy.” Dean acknowledge as the curtain moved, a frazzled woman standing there. “I have to go, I believe Social Services just got here.”

“Dean Winchester?” the woman asked, glancing down at her paperwork.

“That would be me.”              

“Clara Eden, Department of Social Services.” She said, extending her hand. “Apologies for running late, when you get woken up earlier than normal and have to remove a three year old from a home, it throws the rest of your day off. Now,” she said glancing towards the sleeping infant on the bed. “Who do we have here?”

“Well, she has no official name, but they are calling her Baby Girl Main. She was safe havened sometime around three this morning at the Sheriff Office.”

“I assume you have security footage on the premises?” She asked, taking a seat on the doctor’s stool next to the bed, pulling out a pen and notebook.

“Yes, and from what I’ve been told the mother walked down from Maple Street onto East Main, holding the box before placing it under the covering of the building before walking on down East Main onto Roswell.”

“Any identification on who the mother ir or maybe?” she asked, jotting down the information into the book.

“No, she wore a hoodie and kept her head down. We believe that she was late teens, early twenties.”

“So, there’s no way to identify her… Well Kansas as you mentioned is an infant safe haven for babies up to forty-five days after birth. Do we have an approximate date of birth?”

“Five days ago according to the information that was written on the box. We’ve sent the baby’s description to all local and surrounding county hospitals and clinics, but we have reason to believe that this was either an unexpected pregnancy or an at home birth.”

“What kind of information was on the box?” she asked as the infant on the bed began to squirm and cry.

Dean walked over to the bed, picking up the baby, placing her onto his shoulder, gently bouncing her up and down. “There was the date of birth and an apology.”

Clara looked up. “An apology? That’s unusual. What did it say?”

“Ok, somewhat of an apology. It just said, ‘Take Care of Her.’” Dean sighed, now rocking the baby back and forth, a smile appearing on the infant’s face as she fell back asleep. “What will happen to her?”

“Well Mr. Winchester, I will have to speak to the doctor or pediatrician before making any permanent moves but it seems as though she will be placed into emergency foster care.”

“Foster care? Is there not another option?”

“I’m afraid not Mr. Winchester, not knowing any of her immediate family, the only other option this short notice is emergency foster care.”

Dean sighed again, being tossed around from foster house to foster house was definitely not what he wanted for the child.

“Who would the foster family be?”

“I’m afraid I can not tell you that because I do not know myself, it would be whoever is next on the list.” She told him, standing up.

“What… What about another option?”

“Dean… I’m sorry but I just-“

“No. Me and my wife. We… we’re looking at fostering, we’ve taken the classes, had background checks and house inspections, we passed it all with flying colors. You can check. I promise.”

“Mr. Winchester-“

“Please… just… just give us a chance.”

The social worker studied him for a moment before letting out a sigh. “I will see what I can do. Since it seems as though she has already formed an attachment and you were the one that found her, your odds might be greater BUT I am making no promises.”

“Thank you, whatever we need to do, we will do it.”

“I will have to take it to my superiors, you should know something by this afternoon.” Clara told him, as she packed her belongings. “Here is a business card with the number I will be calling you from.”

Dean grabbed it, looking at the number before sticking it in my pocket. “What are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

“The doctor will probably release her within the next few hours. I suggest you get prepared and talk to your wife.” She smirked before walking past the curtain.

‘Oh shit.’ He thought.

*Readers POV*

You had just walked in the door from work when your phone in the bottom of your bag began to ring. You quickly dug through, not paying attention to the number of the caller.

“Hello?”

“Hey babe.”

“Hey! I was just fixing to call and see what you wanted for dinner tonight, I have that pot roast in the crockpot but I’m honestly not even in the mood to fix anything else.”

“About that… I need you to come down to the hospital.” He spoke softly.

You heart dropped, thinking the worst as the wife of a police officer. “What? Why? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I am. Will you just come, please?”

“I will be there in fifteen.”

“[Y/N] don’t panic ok, it’s nothing bad, I promise.”

“Ok. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He said as you ended the call.

You drove to the hospital, going only ten over the speed limit to get there, pulling into the parking lot ten minutes later. You parked, going through the sliding doors just outside of the emergency room. “Hi, I am looking for my husband, Dean Winchester?”

A woman behind the desk smiled. “He’s behind the first curtain on the left as you walk through the door.”

“Thank you.” You told her as you adjusted the purse on your shoulder, walking through the sliding doors that led you to the emergency department.

“Dean?” you asked pushing back the curtain.

“[Y/N] Hey.” He said standing, giving you a kiss on the lips.

“What’s going on? Are you ok? You’re not injured are you?”

“Babe calm down, I am fine. I am here for a whole different reason. Did you get my message from earlier?”

“I wasn’t able to check it, it was so busy after I sent you the first message that-“ you were saying as you were interrupted by a crying infant.

Dean turned, walking over to the bed sitting down.

“Dean?”

“Yes?”

“There’s a baby on the bed.”

“Yes.”

“Where did… where did she come from?”

“Well you see [Y/N] when a mommy and daddy really- Ow! What was the hell was that for?!” he said rubbing his shoulder.

“Not what I asked dumbass.”

“Better wash your mouth out honey, there is a child around.” He laughed.

“Dean? Back to the story.”

“I found her this morning. She has no one.”

You sat down on the other side of the bed, looking at the infant in front of you.

“What’s her name?”

“She doesn’t have one.”

“Well someone needs to give her one… Where does she go from here?”

“Well… about that… I kind of said we could take her.”

You stared at him. “Freeze. Rewind. You done what now?”

“I told the social worker how we’ve been through the classes and everything that’s needed to become foster parents and volunteered us.” He sheepishly spoke.

“Yeah, ok.” You said understandingly.

“Wait. You’re not mad?” Dean asked in surprise.

“Dean honey…” you told him cusping his cheek. “I could never be mad about this. You know how long we’ve tried and failed to have one of our own and here opportunity is, knocking at our door. Who are we to ever turn down a challenge?”

“I Love you so much.”

“I know.” You laughed.

“We’re doing this?”

You nodded your head, “We’ve got so much to do. We’ve got to buy a crib and clothes and bottles and bids and a rocker and-“

“Breath honey. Let’s take it one step at a time.” Dean said, reaching for the infant on the bed, cradling her. “Step number one. Get the hell out of here.”

“Are we allowed to leave or are you just wanting to go because you hate hospitals?”

“All she has to do is pass the car seat test and we are out the door.” He smiled.

“Hey Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t happen to have a car seat in your back pocket, do you?”

“Son of a Bitch.” He grumbled. “Step number one, you need to go shopping.”

*That weekend*

“[Y/N]!” Dean yelled from the second floor of your home.

“Dean Winchester if you wake her up, I swear to God!”

“I need some help!” he yelled again.

You rushed up the stairs, walking down the hallway to the second door on the right. “What’s the prob- Oh my god what is that smell?!”

“Call the fire department, I need fresh air.” He said gagging, used wipes and a crying, naked baby laying on the changing table. “Oh my god what have you eaten! I will pay you money to stay still!”

“This. This is all on you Dean.” You said looking at your husband, slowly backing out the door.

“[Y/N]! Get back here!” he yelled as you hurriedly walked back down the hall, the doorbell ringing.

You began greeting your guests, your family, Dean’s family, some family friends of both, getting concerned when Dean had yet to show up. “Hey Sam, I’m going to go check on Dean and the situation from earlier.”

You took the stairs again, two at a time. “Babe? You ok?” you asked, checking the makeshift nursery finding nothing, heading to your master bedroom. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

You pushed open the door, finding Dean in a different outfit, towel drying his wet hair, the baby laying on your bed in a new onesie, sucking on her pacifier, taking in her surroundings.

“Sorry we both had to take a shower, it was all over her, all over me. I’m pretty sure I used a whole package of wipes.”

“Well, you both smell better.” You joked reaching down onto the bed, picking up the infant. “And you missy, you are definitely giving us a run for our money.”

“Ready to do this?” asked Dean.

“Ready if you are.” You smiled, brushing a finger over her cheek.

Dean walked down the stairs in front of you, him reaching the bottom before you began your descent.

“Nice of you to finally show- Oh my God! No!” you heard Dean’s mother Mary say from the living room causing everyone to turn.

“Guys, we’d like you to meet someone. Say hello to Daniella Faith Winchester, Dani for short.” You smiled, even though her legal name at the moment is Baby Girl Main because of where she was found, you and Dean had both decided to give her an actual identity.

“You were pregnant!?”

“She’s so cute!”

“Why did no one tell me you were expecting?”

Dean cleared his throat. “She’s not ours, well biologically speaking. Not to get too personal but we are unable to have a child of our own. We- I found her earlier this week while on the job and most of you know we had just completed becoming certified foster parents, I guess you could call her our chance at happiness.”

“Are you going to adopt her?”

“Maybe someday, right now we are just taking it one step at a time.”

[morethanithoughtofficialblog]

Chapter 8: I’m a simple human, nothing more than that.

In which you almost cried in a friend’s house

*Your POV*

I had to go to the doctor to see if my injury wasn't anything serious.

Turns out it was.

He had to put twenty-five stitches on my fingers. Obviously not twenty-five on each of them, of course not. They were twenty-five in total...

Wow, you are such an idiot. Who the fuck punches a mirror?! You'll probably feel worse than before...

And that was true.

The doctor recommended me to avoid any activities involving my fingers. That practically is avoiding any activity at all. But I, being the stubborn woman I am, won't listen to this suggestion he made, although it sounded more like an order. Still, I can't quit my job just because I did something stupid.

So I arrived at my messy apartment, angrier with myself than before. I felt like trash. But, after seeing the pleased and happy faces of all those people, I feel like I can't give up. So I'll continue living...

For now, of course.

I changed into my pajamas and sat on the couch. I surely don't want to go to my room yet, remembering what happened yesterday. Or today. Whatever.

When I was scrolling through the channels my phone buzzed, and I took it without hesitation. I watched TV a bit before checking the notification but I got bored and decided to see it.

Sans: hey

Sans: can i ask u something???

Well, that was new. Sans had never messaged me before; or well, at least not in private. After all, he did say a few jokes and puns to me especially, but only in the chat group with everyone else.

You: Go ahead

I silently prayed for it to don't be something related to my past or my backstory. It's really complicated and hurtful to explain; maybe it wouldn't make me cry, but it would definitely make me uncomfortable.  

Please, not about me. Please, not about me. Please, not about me. Please, not about me.  Please, not about me.  Please, not about me.  Please, not about me.  Please, not about me.

Please, not about me-

Sans: i noticed an injury on ur right fingers today

Sans: wanted to make sure what happened

...phew.

Still, I couldn't just tell this guy that I punched a freaking mirror. He would probably block me and stare at my soul whenever we would meet. And it was for a fact that I will see him more, so...

You: Oh, about that...

You: It was an accident

Wow, that didn't look suspicious at all.

Sans: really?

You: Yeah, pretty much me being stupid

At least you didn't lie this time.

Sans: oh

Sans: it wasn't somethin' serious, tho?

You: A bit

Sans: stitches?

Wait, why does he know about stitches? He doesn't even need them!

You: Actually, yes

Why did you say that?! You are supposed to keep it a secret!

...

Even if he was going to find out anyway...

Sans: oh shit

Sans: how many?

Well, it's not like it's there any point in lying...

You: Twenty-five

Sans: jesus, what did u do?

Sans: r u ok now, tho?

You: Pretty much

Sans: well, that's good, kiddo

I'm fucking twenty-

Sans: welp, that's all i wanted to know

Sans: srry if i bothered ya

You: Nonsense!

You: That's actually really nice of you!

You: I mean, to actually care enough to ask

Sans: eh, it's nothin'

Sans: i was goin' to ask ya there, but thought it would be better in...

Sans: private?

You: I understand; talking about someone's injuries it's not that great of a topic.

You: It would have been catastrophic if Mrs. Dreemurr or Mrs. Arial knew

Sans: yeah

Sans: welp

Sans: i should go by now

You: I bet

You: Have a good night, Sans

Sans: you too, (l/n)

It was quite a conversation, I must say. I mean; Sans called me by my last name at the end, which it's weirdly formal. And, out of all the people, he was the one who asked. Maybe he was the only one that noticed something odd on my hand, but I highly doubt it. It was visibly out of place.

Or well.

At least for a human.

It's hard to remember that we don't have the same problems, physically talking. Some of the monsters that confuse me the most are the skeletons and the fish-like. How could skeletons feel anything at all? One day I heard Arial complaining about how hot the day was, and that's... weird. How Undyne can breathe? She's out of the water! Unless she has lungs...

But wait- skeletons don't have lungs...

This is confusing as fuck.

How could Sans have noticed something odd to my hand, though? It's either he had seen it before on Frisk, or he actually researches a lot about humans. That would be weird as well. I mean, it would be like he had a human fetish. And that's scary.

I'm making him sound like he's a fucking rapist.

I felt shivers down my spine and quickly shook my head. It was disturbing to think like that, to say the least. I don't think someone like Sans could have such a guilty pleasure.

But maybe he's just like me.

I mean- not as a fetish! But more like... curiosity. After all, I do have my doubts about monsters. I just made some five minutes ago. So he has all the right to know about humans as I do about monsters. Or maybe we don't. But hey, how a freak can judge another?

...

Did I just call Sans a freak? I barely know the guy, for God's sake!

I felt worse, naturally. I would apologize to him, but he doesn't know that I called him a freak. He doesn't need to know, either.

As much as I wanted to avoid it, I had to enter my bedroom eventually. This night, though, I decided to take a sleeping pill. And just like that, I was knocked out on my bed, forgetting that my daily dose should be a quarter of a pill.

Good thing I have an alarm, or else I would have been on dreamland forever. Well, I don't remember what I dreamed, but that's not the point. The thing is that I have work to do, so I can't sleep all day.

And so I got ready and went to work, taking the subway like every day. And, for my surprise, I saw a family of monsters hanging out on the subway station. I smiled, knowing that now they can take public services.

I arrived and went straight for a cup of coffee and a mini donut. Miracle there was any food to eat with the coffee; good thing they actually had coffee and not water. I need my drug to start the day. Always.

Such a coincidence I was listening to that song: 'Always' by Bon Jovi. Such a nice and romantic ballad, cheesy and totally different from what I use to hear. But hey, whenever it's a rock classic, I have a reason to listen to it. Especially if it is a ballad of Bon Jovi. They are just unique.

Fun thing: I was listening also to a song called 'Unique', by Lenka. It's not a classic; it isn't even Rock N' Roll, but I like the calm and cheery tone it has. The lyrics have a direct and almost literal meaning, and it's really positive.

The group of monsters arrived, then we headed out of the building.

Yep.

Work wasn't in my office.  

Everyone took their money and belongings with them. We went to a near bank and I made all the changes in their currency to make them dollars. We had agreed that every 'Gold' would be a dollar. 1 for 1. (I remembered a song again. I shouldn't be talking about my whole playlist)

They ended up with a good amount of money. Well, a lot. Some of them had sold their houses in the Underground, so they had even more money. Now, who bought their houses? God knows- that's the answer.

So some of them bought a house. Like, today. This totally surprised me, considering how much time I spent searching for a new place to live, that it's a small apartment. And now they have houses. HOUSES, FOR GOD'S SAKE!

Calm the fuck down, (Y/N) (L/N).

...(L/N).

That kinda reminded me about my conversation with Sans. I glanced down at him and saw that he was talking to an excited Papyrus.

"You look happy" I bluntly said, facing towards him. I froze but quickly relaxed, watching his smile growing bigger.

"aren't i always happy?" he answered, winking an... "eye".

"I mean, for real" I muttered, but I was conscious that he heard me since he stared at me in shock "Shit, I'm sorr-"

"you could say i feel happier. i, after a long time, have a bit of hope about the future-"

"YES HUMAN!" Papyrus shouted, smiling excitingly "SANS HAS BEEN DOING GREAT! HE'S BEEN WAY MORE POSITIVE SINCE YOU SHOWED UP, AND THAT'S A HUGE PROGRESS!"

He isn't that positive, huh? We may be really similar, then.

I could see why he was more positive, though; he got a house for his family, and that feeling is simply amazing. Well... I suppose it must be incredible. I haven't bought a familiar house, but when I got the keys to my apartment, it sure felt great. It must feel similar, if not better.

But he was eager about something else as well, noticing the look he gave to a bookstore. That really caught me off guard, not seeing him as the type to read a lot. Maybe I shouldn't be judging the poor guy just yet. He seems nice to this point, and that's it.

We finished our journey at the new and huge house of the Dreemurr family, everyone feeling like little kids. And with everyone, I include myself. I honestly forgot my problems for a bit and I was hoping to see how these guys reached their dreams eventually.

It's just a matter of time.

"How about if you stay as well, (Y/N)?" Frisk asked with a smile, snapping me back at reality. Wait, WHAT?!

"S-stay?!" I asked amazed, not believing what my ears were hearing. Why would they want me to stay?!

"YEAH! WE WILL HAVE A HUGE SLEEPOVER IN WHICH EVERYONE WILL PARTICIPATE!" Papyrus exclaimed, eyeing Sans and Dr. Gaster there for a second.

"Uh... I don't know..." I started, trying to dismiss the topic. And as expected, I failed.

"it's really late now, kiddo. from what you have told me, it's not good to leave at this time. less if you're a girl" Sans cleverly argued, using my words of that telephonic conversation.

Goddang it, Sans.

"...are you sure?"

"totally"

"Well, if you really want me here..."

Everyone smiled, even that freaking flower (though I bet he won't admit it). I felt a nostalgic wave hit me, but I hold the tears.

You can always cry at night, (Y/N)...

Except that tonight you can't, if you plan to stay.

Shit. If I had grabbed along my pills, it would have been easier. Hopefully, this so-called sleepover would last until morning. Maybe then I'll pass out.

That means no coffee, though.

Shit.

However, it wasn't as bad as I thought. All of them were super nice, and even shy Napstablook opened up once in a while. I felt really welcomed by most of them, making jokes and thanking me for what I've done.

Even if it was really nothing.

"So (Y/N)..." The sassy robot asked, making a fake hum of curiosity... that makes me feel curious as well. "How is your love life, darling?"

I don't think I should tell this guy I'm lonely as fuck...

"Pretty much dead, honestly" I simply answered, trying not to get into details.

"Oh. Did a bastard just left you?"

I don't think I should tell this guy I've always been lonely as fuck.

"Eh... sure"

"That didn't sound too believable, (Y/N)!" Frisk pouted, getting into the conversation without anyone minding her opinion.

...that was rude.

"YES HUMAN! YOU DIDN'T SOUND TOO CONVINCING!" Papyrus exclaimed, making my heart skip a beat for a second at how loud his voice is. I need to get used to this. "...OR DO YOU RATHER NOT TALK ABOUT IT?"

It would have been useless if I lied, knowing how little experienced I am about the topic. They would find out sooner or later that I was a fat ass liar, just trying to fit in and failing miserably. So instead of taking that risk, I decided to take another.

"Actually... my love life has always been dead..."

Mettaton almost choked in the glass of... an unknown drink he was... drinking?

How does he fucking drink, though?

"Darling, what the hell?!" He exclaimed with a remarkable tone of indignity in his voice, gaining the attention of the others in the room... who weren't paying attention before. Oh my god, why?! "We need to get you a date! Like, NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Eh... what about no?" I answered, trying my best to escape. And, as expected...

I failed.

"WHAT ABOUT YESSSSSS??????????????????????????" He snapped back annoyingly, making me feel like the stupidest person on Earth. Maybe I would have really lied if I knew he would be like this about my non-existent love life.

"Me-mettaton" Alphys intervened, with an instant look of regret after spitting out that word. Please save me. "I do-don't think you should judge her that easily. I mean, everyone has their reasons. I bet she does as well"

"...fine!" He sassily exclaimed, faking their annoyance "Just don't say that I, an expert in love lives, didn't try to help!"

ohmygodthankyou

"...sure thing, Mettaton" I sighed, mostly in relief "Sure thing"

And so the night continued, not without me being able to avoid all their questions. I was okay with telling them about the surface, but my life... now that's another thing. People say I should be proud of what I've done, either in school and work, but it's hard for me to see it that way. And so my pride is substituted by doubts and insecurity, feeling not good enough. Because maybe if I tell them too much about me, they would not like me anymore (if they ever did, in the first place). And even if it's really selfish, I enjoyed their company more than anything in ages.

And I didn't want it to stop.

My time there was pleasant until it was 1 am. Frisk and Papyrus were seemingly tired, and Sans added that "his brother would get cranky without his bed story" or something like that. I felt a rush of panic hit me like a brick, realizing that it would be impossible for me to sleep at this hour.

And knowing that I couldn't do my nightly shenanigans made me feel worse.

Panic, then, was starting to get mixed up with anxiety, while the others were discussing who should get the couch-

wait a minute.

"Uh... I can sleep on the couch if you want me to" I interrupted, hoping that this would be a good idea.

A lot of the people arguing told me countless times I shouldn't take the couch since I was "the guest", but my insistence and my insecurities were way stronger than all of their goodwill combined.

Or maybe not, but the point is that I won.

Everyone went to sleep, some of them even hugged me before leading to their temporary rooms. I smiled, feeling happy...

Wow. Never thought I would use that word again.

Don't get me wrong, my life it's not that shitty. I mean, if we get ourselves more reasonable, at least I'm not in the middle of nothing dying from starvation and from having a fucked-up mind. That's something I should really feel thankful for, except for that last part, since my mind it's actually a huge mess.

Still, I can't consider myself being happy. Or more like... satisfied? Yeah, that must be. I've always been exigent with myself, feeling the pressure of keeping people's expectations high. I don't want to fail them. I don't want them to see me how I see myself. That's why I smile, I laugh and even cry when I don't want to.

To feel more human.

To feel sane.

To keep moving on.

Because I know that other people might need my help in, well, anything! I just can't give up if people in worse situations haven't. That would just make me look and feel worse.

But it's really worth living just for the others and not for myself?

I mean, it's not like I'm completely selfless. I consider myself really selfish at some points. Because I also do things to keep myself sane, to keep myself out of trouble, and hell, to even keep myself out from the death list.

I'm scared of death, no doubt about it. I'm scared of letting go before I find someone that truly cares about me...

...maybe I should listen to Mettaton. But a broken heart would be unbearable to me. Falling in love is a risk I can't take, less if I'm in this state.

I mean, look at me! I've been diagnosed with anxiety, depression, and a high fucking IQ which I'm not proud of at all! I question reality often, I doubt how capable I am to do even the simplest of tasks, and I can't even establish a normal conversation without freaking out! I sometimes even ask myself if I don't have schizophrenia, for God's sake!

My mind went blank when I felt a tear rolling down my cheek. That warm and familiar feeling made me want to scream and punch a fucking mirror again. I contained myself, though, when I see in the darkness the green couch I was laying on.

I couldn't make them worry about me.

I just couldn't.

And so I softly removed the tears from my face and shut my eyes, not before noticing a blanket that, as far as I could remember, I never grabbed...

[louislouisrap]

in which bakugo accidentally explodes at the gym

So I know I said I wasn’t really planning to make a fic out of this but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I kinda want to now? I might? Make this a thing? Or at least write up a little drabble about how each character discovers their power? I have no idea but this was fun and I wanna do it again.This was super loose and rough, very little editing. Was just for fun  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also the entirety of my time spent in the gym until now was in preparation for writing about Bakugo and Kirishima going to the gym, so never give up on your dreams I guess

Also it’s super cool that some people started following me after reading my previous drabble! Thanks for doing so and I hope you continue to enjoy my dumb lil writings! （*´▽｀*）

It had been a week since Uraraka had been to the dermatologist, and they were still no closer to figuring out why her skin was behaving the way it was. The doctor had determined, at the very least, that the pads on her fingers were benign, and had suggested she try a callus cream. If nothing else, surgery to remove the pads was a last resort, but as they weren’t necessarily bothering her, Uraraka had initially dismissed the option.

It wasn’t alarming, but it stuck in the back of Bakugo’s mind as he headed to the gym with Kirishima.

“Hey man.” Bakugo greeted the redhead with a hearty clap on the shoulder as he emerged from his apartment.

“Hey!” A grin spread across Kirishima’s face, his mood infectious as always, as he stepped out into the apartment hallway. His broad hand enveloped the back of Bakugo’s neck and he went in for a combination chest bump and back slap, with a bit of a hug mixed in. After a moment, however, Kirishima broke their embrace and gave Bakugo a funny look.

“Dude, you’re like, really sweaty. Or greasy or something.”

“I know, right?!” The tips of Bakugo’s ears went pink in spite of himself. He wasn’t ever really ashamed of his body, and bodies did weird things from time to time, but he had found it odd that in even in the comfortable autumn air, he was suddenly working up a noticeable sweat. “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on but I’ve been sweating like crazy the past few days.”

“I’m telling you, you need more cardio,” Kirishima laughed as they made their way out of the apartment complex and into the quiet morning streets of Shibuya.

“It’s not even that,” Bakugo argued. “It’s like I’m sweating, but it doesn’t even smell or feel like sweat. Like—” he rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie and sniffed the crease of his elbow, then shoved his arm in Kirishima’s face— “it sort of smells like chemicals? Kind of like a sweet chemical smell?”

Kirishima cautiously sniffed, then looked up at Bakugo suspiciously. “That’s weird, man.”

“I know.”

They walked on in silent contemplation for a few minutes. Then Kirishima peered at Bakugo’s face.

“Your skin looks really good, dude.”

Bakugo regarded him quizzically.

“Like it looks really smooth. Like a baby’s butt. Maybe it’s your weird sweat.”

“Shut the fuck up, Kirishima.”

Kirishima laughed, a low giggle that erupted into hearty peals. It wasn’t that funny, but Kirishima somehow managed to find humor in almost everything, and with his childlike, friendly demeanor, he was often mistaken for a high school student, rather than twenty-two. This was especially true when he let his normally spiked hair go natural, falling around his face in a way that brought out the baby fat roundness in his cheeks. Today, however, Kirishima had decided against his usual styling routine, in favor of pulling his hair back in a low ponytail for their gym session. “I’m serious! Well, kinda anyway. Here—” he grabbed Bakugo’s forearm and rubbed his cheek against it— “we’ll see tomorrow how my face looks.”

Bakugo tore his arm out of Kirishima’s grip, then smacked him on the back of the head. “You’re a fuckin’ weirdo, you know that?” he barked out, suppressing a laugh. “Besides, that’s not even how that works.”

Kirishima shrugged. “Worth a try.”

“This is why you failed science in high school,” Bakugo snorted.

Kirishima was still arguing that he had been unfairly graded in science class (“Every science class?” Bakugo had asked) when the two of them reached the small gym. It was on the ground floor of a bigger building, not necessarily large, but tall, like most buildings in the area were. The gym itself was cozy, not really exclusive, but its members were more like a community, a family rather than a collection of random gym-goers. Bakugo liked it that way, and had convinced Kirishima to switch from the commercial gym he’d been a part of for the past year.

It was early in the morning, and while there were a few early risers like themselves that frequented the gym, today they were the first ones in the building. Being as tight-knit as it was, Bakugo and Kirishima had keys to open the gym whenever they pleased. They let themselves in and made their way to the locker room to change. Bakugo tore off his black hoodie and shoved it in his locker, revealing a very plain grey t-shirt that matched his grey and black gym shorts and black and white sneakers.

Kirishima, in comparison, had a slightly louder fashion sense. Unzipping his bright red sweatshirt revealed an equally bright red tank top that did a wonderful job of showing off his chest and broad shoulders. His gym shorts were, similar to Bakugo’s, an average dusty grey, while his maroon and white sneakers finished the ensemble.

Bakugo stuck a pair of earbuds in his ears, slipped his phone into the pocket of his shorts, and followed Kirishima to one of the squat racks in a far corner of the gym. Today was deadlift day. Nothing too hard, just some lighter reps for more volume and to help with his grip strength. Before Kirishima set himself up with the barbell to start warming up for his squats, Bakugo grabbed a second barbell from behind the rack, set it on the metal spotters, and loaded two large plates on either side.

With a quiet grunt, Bakugo lifted the barbell off the spotters and shuffled over to set it down next to the squat rack where he and Kirishima could lift side-by-side. He started off with a few light warm ups: positioned the bar midway over his feet, pulled back against its weight, straightened his back, and pushed his soles into the ground as the heavy barbell lifted up off the floor. He felt the pull in his hamstrings, the fullness of his lungs holding in a giant breath of air and the slight dizziness of holding that air in until it all came out in a whoosh after a couple reps.

Bakugo counted out ten quick reps, then took a minute’s rest to get some water at the drinking fountain. He returned, then added another 45-pound plate to each side of the barbell to start the actual work.

Even with his earbuds in and his music playing, Bakugo could still hear Kirishima next to him, whooping and grunting every so often. The two of them were usually courteous enough to be as quiet as possible whenever there were others in the gym, but since it was empty, they could let loose a bit this morning.

Bakugo bent down and adjusted his hands on the bar, the grippy crosshatched metal digging into his skin. He sucked a breath deep into his belly, bent down, back straight, and pulled. The barbell was heavy, but lifted with little resistance. Bakugo held his form for a second, two, three. He felt an itch in his palms, felt sweat trickling down his face, his forearms, into the creases between his fingers.

Suddenly, he felt the bar in his hands slip, his skin too slick to keep a tight grip.

“Fuck,” Bakugo muttered as his forearms strained to keep the bar up. “Fuck!” he shouted again as the bar slipped farther, and he felt the knurling grate against his palms.

And then, out of nowhere: a multitude of whip-like crackles, then an intense heat bloomed and spread through his arms. A bright flash of fiery orange-red, dark smoke enveloping his hands. An explosion, loud enough to shudder the squat rack that Kirishima was occupying, made louder by the accompanying thud of the barbell as Bakugo dropped all 225 pounds in an instant. The force of the explosion was enough to knock him back on his ass, and he rolled back a bit onto his shoulder to soften the blow. His palms buzzed with heat and energy, and even though the explosion seemed to have come from his very own hands, he felt no pain. Just an all-encompassing warmth that traveled up his forearms and left his heart racing.

Bakugo’s chest heaved as he stared at the barbell on the floor. Thin trails of smoke whisped and curled from his hands. Kirishima rushed to his side, eyes wide and terrified. “Holy fucking shit, Bakugo, are you okay? What the fuck happened?” He knelt down and placed a firm hand on Bakugo’s sweaty, trembling back.

“I have no fucking idea,” Bakugo breathed, his voice trembling as badly as his body. He swiped at his brow with his forearm and noticed that the sweat that had been dripping down his face a moment earlier had almost completely dissipated.

Kirishima sat down next to Bakugo, drew up his knees and rested his elbows atop them. “You hurt?” he asked, brows furrowed in concern. He regarded Bakugo, who glared intensely at his open palms.

“I…I don’t think so, but—Kirishima, my hands literally just exploded.”

A beat.

“Your hands—”

“Exploded, Kirishima. It sounds insane, I know, but I swear to god that’s what happened just now. I felt it.” Bakugo’s voice regained some of its strength. “When the bar slipped out of my hands, it like, ignited or something.”

“What did?” Kirishima asked cautiously.

“I think,” Bakugo said slowly, “it’s this stuff I’ve been sweating.”

Kirishima was silent, then carefully reached out to touch Bakugo’s hand. Bakugo recoiled immediately.

“Are you crazy, Shitty Hair?”

“Just relax, would you?” Kirishima rolled his eyes and grabbed Bakugo’s wrist, pulled it close to him, and brushed his fingertips across Bakugo’s open palm. Both boys stared at Bakugo’s hand, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, Kirishima seemed to noticeably deflate. “Well that was disappointing.”

“So you wanted me to incinerate your hand?”

Kirishima shrugged. “I dunno, I just…wanted to see if something would happen. But your hands didn’t feel sweaty at all, you know.”

Bakugo opened and closed his hands a couple times, brushing his fingers along the edge of his palm. Kirishima was right; all of the perspiration from earlier was practically gone.

“Something fucking weird is going on,” he muttered. He scrambled up off the floor, then held a hand out to Kirishima to hoist him up.

“Yeah,” Kirishima agreed as he let Bakugo pull him to his feet. “Between you and Uraraka, there’s something in the water these days, man.”

Uraraka. Bakugo pulled his phone from his pocket and saw, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, that she had called recently. For reasons that Bakugo would later attribute to the mysterious workings of the universe at large, he knew he needed to call her back right then. He didn’t know why, but he just knew.

With a heavy thumb he tapped on the missed call notification and brought the phone to his ear. She picked up after one ring.

“Uraraka? Hey, I—”

The sinking feeling in his stomach bottomed out as she interrupted him, her voice shaking as badly as his had moments ago. “Bakugo, I need you to come over, right now.”

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

“Just get here as soon as you can. Please.”

Bakugo ended the call immediately and grabbed Kirishima hard by the arm. “We have to go,” he explained, forcing down the panicked edge in his voice. “Now.”

[mcgrathandwives]

Dating Agentcorp would include...

I finally heard back from the hospital today- I have an appointment on Friday so here's hoping they'll do more than just a physical check over to be sure I'm all gucci good! Whoop! Also sorry that this is 2 days late I forgot to save yesterdays update so I had to write it again❤

*I DO NOT OWN DC OR IT'S CHARACTERS*

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Request: Dating reigncorp would include?

Lena and Alex met you through Winn.

You were brought on as a consultant by J'onnz at Winn's request. You both had studied together at college and he desperately needed someone who thought and worked like he did.

Anyways. You were brought into the DEO a few times to help out Winn but due to the invasion, you were told to meet him at L-Corp.

Once you got there a woman in her mid-twenties, incredible black hair and a silk blouse was pacing back and forth frantically.

You stood waiting for about 5 minutes before Winn fell out of a black DEO SUV. Another woman with short red hair jumped out the front she seemed to be talking to Winn.

The woman in the silk blouse made her way over to them. You followed quickly behind.

"My mother's in my office are you sure you're 100% comfortable working on this?" Before Winn could answer he noticed you, pulling you into his side.

"Agent Danvers, Miss Luthor this is Y/n L/n. She's our extra set of hands. She's good at this sorta stuff and she knows how to handle a gun." Both women turned to you, the red head was the first to reach her hand out.

"Agent Alex Danvers. Thank you for lending us a hand with our problem." You gave the woman-Alex a warm smile as you turned to face the other woman.

"Lena Luthor, hi thank you honestly 6 hands are better than 2 thats for sure." Her facial features softened when she introduced herlself. Turning on her foot she gestured ahead. "Shall we?"

Of course it all turned out to be a massive success.

Once everything was over you were introduced to the rest of the team.

After that day you stuck around National City.

You now work with both L-Corp and the DEO as a consultant.

As your stay in the city grew, your relationships with the oldest Danvers and youngest Luthor grew.

You got invited to the game, movie and girl nights.

You helped Lena with her problems with Kara/Supergirl and the both of you helped Alex through the break up.

The 3 of you confessed your feelings for each other over a shared bottle of wine. Kara had been called out on Supergirl duty.

At first your relationship was a bit rough- the three of you spent forever trying to work out who likes what and then there was the challenge of trying to work out your relationship by yourselves and not infront of everyone else.

Keeping it a secret wasn't that much of a challege from everyone...excpet Kara.

You are dating her sister and her best friend.

One night she was out on patrol and flew past L-Corp. She knew you and Lena were working on a project and so she did her usual and checked in to see Lena sitting on her desk caught up in a rather heavy make out session with you.

Later that night she was heading to Alex's and found you and her kissing at her door, both wearing matching smiles.

So Kara being Kara called the 3 of you to her apartment- she was so mad at you for "cheating" on her sister and best friend.

When you arrived all ypu heard was Lena and Alex trying to explain to Kara what was going on, but she wasnt having it. Until your girlfriends seen you walk in, they both instnatly lit up making their way over to you.

Once Kara knew you were serious about them both she was excited and kept texting you different ideas for dates and presents- which in all honesty you were so thankful for.

Date planning was your thing since both your girlfriends are crazy busy with work.

One night you begged Kara to talk both of them into going back to your apartment in order for you to have dinner with them.

You managed to get tickets to the grand opening of Metropolis Alex and Lena hadn't shut up about going but not having the time (it took you 7 meetings, voice messages and begging J'onnz to give Alex the same weekend off.

They both loved it just as you hoped. It was quote: "the best date ever."

Lena spends most her time in the office and Alex tends to be at the DEO or the gym. You on the other hand have a normal working schedule because are (your words) "not batshit crazy".

You admire your girlfriends for a million reason but the number 1 is always their drive for making the world a better place.

You love them for it, even if it means having to sacrifice some of your time with them.

If they're both over working themselves at the DEO you always bring them a make shift flung together picinic for their dinner. It's always consists of Lena's salad and anything Alex claims she'd die for.

Everyone loves your relationship.

Not everyone takes it seriously though. Lilian has a massive bad habit of literally tearing you apart with her cruel comments about how neither you or Alex are worthy enough.

You're always the first person at their sides if they get injured and surprisingly it's normally Lena who has to make a trip to Alex with some form of injury from her experiments.

Alex loves to show off in front of you and Lena at honestly every occasion- she'll purposely work out as soon as she hears either of your voices or she'll flex doing the easiest of tasks.

Lena loves to make you sit and watch as she tries on every outfit she has bc she knows no matter what you'll not be paying attention bc you'll be too busy trying not to choke at how ridiculously good looking she is.

But like everyone else they get insecure and worry.

You do everything in your power to make sure they know how much you love them.

When your out they're very protective of you.

One normally holds your hand tightly and the other has their arm wrapped around your waist.

Lena's a tad more jealous than Alex but she normally had a reason for it.

Alex is always checking in on you when you're feeling under the weather being a doctor and all.

Lena normally stays at home to be sure you're alright it got to the point you just made her come and cuddle.

When you feel shitty they do everything they can to make you feel better from buying you your favourite flowers to spoon feeding you.

Movie nights are your Saturday night tradition. You're always in the middle as they cuddle into you.

Sunday morning you all have breakfast together including Kara who brings fresh french pastries.

For the holidays everyone ends up at your apartment because it's the biggest and has the most home like feel.

Your girlfriends are the best- they might over work themselves but they always carve that time out for you because they'd be lost without you.

Every night you find yourself in the middle being held by both of your girlfriends, both laying their heads in the crook of your neck.

Y'all whisper your 'I love you' to each other before you fall asleep.

[tacendaletter]

Mauka & Makai Chapter 2

In which life was what happened while everyone was busy making other plans – and life didn’t need to be gentle to anyone.

Pairing: Yanjun? x OC || uni!au

Genre: Angst. A whole lot of it. Also, not a genre, but Li Mei and Zhengting are friendship goals.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Masterlist

Chapter 2 – “What’s on your mind?”

I wondered if she got the present, or if someone stole it.

Normally, latter wasn’t the case. Up until now, it had only occurred once. But normally, when I was in a hurry and couldn’t give it to her in person, I would bind the present to the doorknob of my neighbor’s apartment. So, as I was brushing my teeth in Ting’s bathroom, I kept wondering about it as I stared into the reflection of myself. Once I was done getting ready for the day, and had gotten dressed, I reached for my phone beside the sink and looked at the time on the lock screen. We still had plenty of time.

I opened my contacts and searched for my neighbor’s name, sending her a quick message asking about the present. Her answer came almost immediately, telling me that she liked it and was happy about the happy little surprise outside her apartment door. Being content, I wanted to lock my phone again before I remembered something. We’re faster with my car than you always walking with Yanjun. Ting’s words from yesterday reminded me that I hadn’t let Yanjun know that he’d be walking alone today.

So I quickly typed out a message to him in our endless chat full of banter, but also serious discussions, that he didn’t need to stop by my house today as I was at Ting’s place. Looking at the time, Yanjun should be getting out of the house in about twenty minutes. I just hoped he actually read the message before he’d go. Looking into the mirror one last time, I took a deep breath and went out of the bathroom to go downstairs. Walking down the stairs, I felt my phone vibrate and stopped to look at the message. He sounded confused, asking why I had stayed over at Ting’s.

I shot back a message that he’d offered me to stay at his for the night as I’d otherwise be alone at home while Kun was at the hospital. The message was immediately marked as read, but Yanjun wasn’t typing. Weird. I stared at my phone for a good ten seconds before the app showed me that Yanjun had gone offline. I tilted my head, scowling at the screen. Was he in a bad mood? He would always answer something, at least an ‘ok.’ I sighed as I put my phone back into my pocket, coming to the conclusion that I’d be talking to him in uni and resumed down the stairs.

In the dining room, I was met by Ting’s parents and the son himself as they have just sat down at the table. The three of them greeted me, and I returned the good morning wish. “It feels like forever since I’ve last seen your face,” Ting’s mother chimed as she studied my face. “You look a lot more tired.” I chuckled. “Yeah, that’s a face a lot of university students sport.” During breakfast, which tasted sinfully good, the conversation kept flowing naturally, with light banter here and there.

Even as a kid, I had always looked at this married couple as my uncle and aunt, as talking to them had never been awkward. Not even now, that I hadn’t seen them in almost a year. It was like the last time I had talked to them was yesterday. Obviously, the conversation also drifted off to how Kun and I were doing and if the treatment was right for him, what the doctors said, etc. Normally, I wouldn’t talk about it, but it was Ting’s parents, so I trusted them; and they paid for it all, so I felt obliged to answer them.

Ting and I left the table earlier as it was time for us to slowly leave, so we excused ourselves. “Li Mei, darling,” Ting’s mother called out before we could vanish through the door of the dining room, “come by more often if time allows it, alright? I’ve missed talking to you.” I smiled at Mrs. Zhu and told her I would before running the stairs back up to Ting’s room to collect my bag and the items I’d need again back home. In my haste, I had almost forgotten my books and notebook that were lying on his study table, but luckily remembered at the top of the stairs before I would have to run up the flight of stairs again. I felt like my brain was scattered today for some reason, in all sorts of places; but I didn’t know why.

So Yanjun was either not in university today, which was unusual for him, or he was avoiding me like the plague, which meant he was upset about something. So the first thing I did in my free time between lectures was to search for Zhangjing, who would definitely know since Yanjun didn’t even read my messages. Did something happen that he didn’t want to tell me about or was he really giving me the silent treatment for something?

Either way, Zhangjing would know, even though Yanjun and I had been pretty much inseparable since some time in high school. He didn’t tell me everything, at least not when it was an emotional matter. It always worried me, because even though he was able to trick people into thinking everything was okay and acted normal, I could tell something was up. But he never wanted to talk about it and instead always bottled everything up until it burst out of him. In that point, Yanjun and I were the same.

He had problems expressing his feelings because he felt like others wouldn’t understand, and I had problems expressing my feelings because I didn’t trust a lot of people. Only a handful of them. Even Zhangjing didn’t count as one of them, even though he was Yanjun’s best friend, but I didn’t feel like I was close enough with him to really trust him… yet. Said man was nowhere to be found, and I was running out of time before my next lecture. I either would find him in the next five minutes or I’d have to text him. Those said five minutes went by fast and I had to choose my last option. So I texted Zhangjing, asking him about Yanjun and went to my lecture. I checked it again afterwards, but Zhangjing hadn’t been online since this morning, and it was almost one pm by now.

He never was that slow.

He’d normally answer within an hour tops, so I sent a question mark after and now I’d just wait for his answer. I asked Yanjun again if he was sick or upset with me, and went to my last lecture of the day, which happened to be with Ting. For now, getting my brother back home would be the first priority and then I’d check up with these two again. Sounded like a plan… at least. Man, I didn’t even know today. I felt like my mind was in the wrong place, scattering everywhere and not being where it was supposed to be. I mean, they were breaking their habits right now, but was I reading too much into it?

I sighed.

First things first. My brother.

Worrying about my brother.

The rest of the day was rather uneventful. Ting and I brought Kun home, then former went home himself and the two of us spent the rest of the day lounging on the sofa, playing games and talking. Even though I was happy that everything seemed to be fine with Kun, my mind always drifted off to somewhere else. I checked my phone for messages every now and then, but there were no new messages throughout the whole day. “What’s on your mind?” I almost jumped at Kun’s question when we were eating dinner very late, only then realizing I hadn’t even touched my food at all.

Looking up at him, I could see his orbs boring into mine as if he was trying to read my mind – he wouldn’t find anything in that mess. “I’ve noticed that your focus always seems to drift somewhere else today. Did something happen?” Looking at my little brother, he didn’t seem so little anymore. Right now, he looked so attentive, as if he was the older sibling noticing something off about his little sister and trying to figure out what it was to help her. In this moment, he didn’t seem like he was younger than me. I sighed.

“I feel like something is up with Yanjun. I’m not sure if he’s sick, or something happened he doesn’t want me to know, or if he’s upset with me and therefore giving me the silent treatment.” Kun stared at me for a moment. “Since when? Today?” “Since today, yeah. He wasn’t even in uni, and neither was Zhangjing, and both are ignoring me. It’s just not their habit not to reply for this long. You don’t know Zhangjing, but you know Yanjun. He doesn’t leave me hanging for the whole day. He never had before.” Kun looked straight ahead in thought.

“What was the last thing you talked about?” The question made me think for a moment. It was this morning, but even then, he already seemed cold, or at least irritated. “I stayed over at Ting’s place yesterday because he didn’t want me to be alone with you in the hospital, so I texted Yanjun that he didn’t need to pick me up in the morning because I was going with Ting. His answer seemed irritated, so I explained that you would stay in the hospital and that was why I stayed over at Ting’s. That was the last conversation.” Kun scowled at me. “And yesterday? He told you to greet me. Did he seem off then?” I shook my head. “He was normal.”

“But why would he only greet me through you if we haven’t seen each other in a while? Why didn’t he just come with you?” I stared at Kun. “I told him it was a boring routine check up and suggested him coming over at the weekend.” “Does he know that Zhengting came along, though?” I stared at Kun blankly. Didn’t I write that in the message? I got up from the table to get my phone and check the message. Yep, I did. “I texted him that, yeah,” I confirmed as I sat down across from Kun again. “Maybe he’s hurt you chose Zhengting over him?” Kun threw into the room and I froze for a moment. I mean, that was possible.

Yanjun sometimes got easily upset about things, but I didn’t think he’d really give me the silent treatment for that. He knew even as a kid that Ting’s and my family had been close-knitted and that Ting was an equivalent of a brother to me and Kun. He would be hurt a bit, maybe, but he wouldn’t be this upset. “That seems a little too far-fetched,” I truthfully spoke my mind, but Kun only shrugged his shoulders. “But it’s a possibility. You always have to consider every single possibility there is.” I stared down at my plate, deep in thought. He was right, but even then, it seemed like the least possible scenario. Sighing, I shoved my plate aside and waited until Kun was done eating.

We changed the topic of conversation quickly.

After dinner, Kun was tired enough to go to bed right away. It was almost midnight anyway, so I also got ready for bed and heard the vibration of my phone as I had laid down. Squinting at the screen, I looked at the notification. 1 new message. Curious as I had been all day, I opened it. From Zhangjing, saying, “He’s sick.” He even had added the dot at the end. He didn’t do that. He never did. Zhangjing always texted without any dots at the end. Always. I even went up to all the earlier conversations to confirm to myself that I in fact did not over-analyze and go nuts.

I stared at the message for a few more seconds before locking my phone and turning onto my side.

Were they hiding something from me?

Masterlist | Chapter 3

[kirishimahinami]

Fostered Love Chapter 3

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Summary: After talking to her teacher and crush, Fueguchi Hinami decides to take up the extra credit suggestion he had presented. Through it she gets to know :re orphanage and it’s associates - as well as Kirishima Ayato, that from now on shall be her partner in babysitting.

Notes: I’m so excited to announce I’m finally done with chapter 3!!! I’m so happy. it took a long time because of my hiatus, but it’s finally here. I’ve been stuck on this for ages, but finally I have some more ayahina goodness to give you. also i finished it right now and its 2:40 am so forgive me if i wrote something a little stupid, haha. 😪

Chapter Summary:   Hinami takes a test and has a breakdown. Her friends, trying to cheer her up after school take her out - and she meets Ayato on the way, and finds her way back to the orphanage and eventually, something that actually brightens her day. (7.2k)

In retrospect, Hinami should’ve known better than to fill up yesterday with things. She really enjoyed being with the kids, both those in the hospital and those in the orphanage, but it was one thing to do it when you have nothing to worry about and another to do it while you are having an important exam the next day.

She stared at the paper in horror, the only sentence in her mind that is somehow valid to anything in this biology exam was ‘the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell’, and that is also because Kanna decide to use it as her official go to meme of the week, dedicated for this exam especially. It was funny to both her and Chiasa, but right now the thought of not being able to answer anything else terrified Hinami to her core.

The open questions in front of her, the blank lines that asked to be filled tormented and mocked her as she continued to stare at them, her sudden blackout of all what her father helped her with only worsening, and she is plagued with thoughts that made her heart drop. Father will be so disappointed, if this will be the one time I fail…

It scared her. She doesn’t see her father every day. In fact, lately, she barely sees him at all. He’s always tired if he returns home. Even if she made them dinner that day, he’ll give her a dry apology, and brush her off. If not forgotten, whatever she had made would be the scraps he eats in the middle of the night, and the only proof he touched them would be the dirty dishes left behind for her to clean in the morning.

She never sees him happy anymore. Not since her mother became ill. He’d rather spend all of his time in the hospital near her bed, but as a cost, he barely ever got to think of his daughter back home. And it wasn’t like she could blame him, even. When her mother just got ill, Hinami was basically average in everything she did. She never lived up to the expectation of being the doctor’s daughter. She was nothing he could be proud of.

He still loved her all the same then. He never told her he wasn’t happy with how she was. But she was nothing he would boast about either - if he ever talked about anyone, he talked about his scholar wife, who was an amazing professor and mother in her own right. He barely introduced his daughter to anyone at work though. In fact, her mother herself had to introduce her to Banjou-san back when she was still healthy.

Now, even that was ruined. He didn’t look at her twice if he didn’t have too.  He misses her calls and her texts are usually answered with one word if at all. He’s so invested in the hospital now she wonders if he even remembers what home is.

But yet.. when she managed to get a good score on a test, when the people around her people around her praised her, when she finally managed to elevate herself from the disappointment she had been last year… Hinami could see a small smile forming on her father’s face. Sometimes, he’d even ruffled her hair, messing it up, but she couldn’t care the slightest bit for the hairstyle.

It gave her hope, that she could help him regain his happiness while mother was healing. That she could do something on her own, if she tried her best, if she managed to reach the top like she wanted. She could…

She didn’t even notice she had tears in her eyes, but a tear fell down on the paper, soaking it as the spot it hit darkened slightly. Hinami blinked out the rest of the tears, shaking her head, mad at herself for even letting them surface. Her hand tightened around her pen, her fingers pressing against it in strain.

I’m not a handout.

Sentences come to her mind as words are being written on the blank spaces she was intimidated of previously, the ink spread across the paper in a perfect, almost calligraphic handwriting. It all went by all so quickly, and with barely ten minutes passing, Hinami had completed each and every question on the test successfully.

Hinami rises from her chair, other students stare, their eyes moving from the clock on the wall to her in shock. She settles her pencil case and everything else in her bag before picking it up and walking to the teacher, handing it out wordlessly, her lips pressed in a thin line as the teacher took it from her hand hesitantly. The teacher was about to question her - after all, they’ve only been around twenty minutes in, when the test is supposed to take an hour and a half. There was so much time left, after all. She knew her teacher would to suggest her to stay, check over the exam, make sure everything is right.

So she walked away to the door, shutting the sliding door behind her quietly and quickly, so at the very least she will remain the same respectful, smart girl to look up to everyone made her into the past year. She was holding her sniffles in, until now, but right now she’s free to agonize herself as much as she wanted with the thoughts in her head.

She bit her lips, heading to the girls’ bathroom. The hallway won’t be empty for forever, and her eyes won’t hold the rising tears that made them glassy. Her entire grade still seemed to be in their exam. At least she was a bit lucky today. No one to encounter by mistake, no one to bug her in her state.

Hinami reached the bathroom, and dragged her feet in front of one of the sinks there. she stared at her watery eyes, rubbing them with her hands while breathing in and out, trying to calm down her speedy, racing heart that insisted on aching upon letting her mind wander. She sniffled, frowning at the reflection she saw in the mirror. After a few minutes, she heard footsteps outside of the bathroom. She quickly turned on the sink, splashing water at her face, rubbing away the tears. Hinami doesn’t need anyone questioning her at the moment. There are barely any people that know of her situation at home, and she wasn’t in the mood to explain herself or find excuses.

“Hina-chan!” Chiasa exclaimed as she entered through the door, Kanna following right behind her. Hinami was a bit surprised to see them, neither of the girls are too good in biology. She herself never excelled in it either, but both of her friends usually spent much more time reviewing their exam papers before handing them in.

Kanna came forth and grabbed Hinami by the face, her lips pouted angrily as she searched something, looking deep into  Hinami’s eyes. Her cheeks puffed before she turned to Chiasa again. “Her eyes are red! I told you I saw her crying!” Kanna said, and grabbed Hinami, pulling her to a big bear hug, so tightly that Hinami couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know if it was from bone crushing embrace or the fact they realized she was crying.

Chiasa stopped the other girls, and rubbed Hinami’s back. “You noticed?...” Hinami asked, trying to force a little laugh as her expression fell to to an almost broken smile. A smile that barely keeps itself together, the pieces of it falling apart as if they were attached with cheap glue that allowed it to disguise the true feelings that ruled her.

“Kanna noticed it.. She left the room and kicked my chair to tell me to get out too before that.” Chiasa explained, her hand now holding Hinami’s tightly. Hinami sniffled in front of them, letting her fake expression disappear and turn to the frown it hid before.

“I thought things were going better now… You are even talking to Kaneki-sensei now, so I thought… I thought you were better.. I’m so sorry I didn’t notice, Hina-chan..” Kanna said as she nuzzled into her. Hinami remembered the day she told both of her friends her mother state, weeping in the process. They have always been there for her, but she remembers their terrified faces, filled with guilt and helplessness, knowing they cannot help her like the wanted to.

Hinami shook her head into Kanna’s shoulder. It wasn’t her fault that she was always silent about everything. “I’m okay…” She said, but her voice was betraying her, cracking slightly.

Chiasa frowns. “Hina-chan, I haven’t seen you like this ever since the incident with your mother… You’ve been so much more happy after Kaneki-sensei helped you when it started. I was hoping that now that you two are talking more it would have helped.. but I guess we should’ve done more. I’m sorry.” She apologizes as well. Hinami feels more guilty than calm.

“It’s been… going okay. I am just stressed out..” She insists, and Kanna lifts her head and looks at her eyes, and Hinami can swear she sees fire through them, and has no doubt that had the grade not been in an exam, she would have screamed at Hinami out of frustration. Instead, she hisses a little with her teary dark eyes open wide for Hinami to see.

“Don’t you say you are okay when you aren’t! If something happens, we do notice! Please… Did things get worse with your mom? Is everything okay? If you let us know maybe we can help, somehow…” The glassy eyed girl preached, moving with each word she said, as if she’s trying to shake Hinami into understanding her, trying to force her way to let her friend spill what’s on her mind.

Hinami released a noise that was some kind of combination of a sniffle and laugh. There is a little that could actually end up worse, when it comes to her mother. There’s little that can be worse than the comatose status her mother currently held. The hospital manager barely even wanted to keep the woman in there, it was only because her father as a doctor of his calibre was too valuable to lose that he allowed it to last this long.

But enough of that. There is no way that she can tell that to Kanna and Chiasa, it will only worry them more. It hurts to stay quiet, especially when it came to the two of them, but there was little they could do and she was always walking on eggshells when she was with her father or at the hospital - she doesn’t want to go through the process of of the pitiful stares and apologetic smiles with her best friends too.

“No. No.. I am just feeling a bit bad lately. I think I flunked the test… I guess I got too emotional because of it. I’m sorry I worried you.” She puts on her best smile she can give with tears still threatening to fall from her eyes, taking both of her friends’ hands in hers. “Thank you two, anyway.” She said, and despite the fact they didn’t seem fully convinced, they both still squeezed her hand back.

“Hey, what is going on here?” Near the bathroom’s door, Kaneki sensei stood, looking mildly concerned. He didn’t pass the line to actually enter the bathroom, simply standing awkwardly with papers in hand, unsure of what to do. “I may not be allowed to enter this bathroom, but if I discover you girls are swapping cheats or something I will not hesitate to… eh, stand here until you’d have to come out!” He said, trying to sound authoritative, but failing as it sounded as if he was questioning himself.

He did peek his head through to the room itself, though. He raised a brow as he saw Hinami and her friends, but his expression immediately shifted to a troubled one as he saw their faces. “Hey, is everything okay? It’s just an exam, I promise to you nothing is as bad as it seems!” He said, trying to comfort the red eyed, sniffling girls in front of him. Kanna and Chiasa gave each other a look.

“Sensei! Hina-chan had been feeling sad because of the exam. Can you talk to her a little? We’ve been trying to cheer her up, but I think you’d know better than us what to say.” Chiasa says and Hinami wants to die on the spot. She finds herself eyeing one of the the bathroom stools. Do they have a window behind them for her to escape? jumping off from floor two sounded like a brilliant option at the moment.

Kaneki sensei had been the one that cheered her up after her mother went on a coma. Both Chiasa and Kanna know this. It was why they were so supportive of her crush anyway. They we’re indifferent to it at first, but Chiasa would always go on about how every talk with him brought back the light to her eyes at those days. It’s probably why they were trying to push her to him right now.

Literally.

Kanna shifted her position in no time and pushed her towards the door. She glanced back glaring at her two friends, her hands on the door she nearly crashed into. Hinami then looked to her side, to see her sympathetic teacher smiling at her. “It’s fine to feel this way, Fueguchi-chan. I really don’t mind talking if you need someone to listen.”

She blanked out. And with nothing in her head she could use as an excuse to flee, she could only agree. “O-okay.”

Her friends were snickering lightly at the corner, and there was a big smile that spread across each of their faces. “Hina, after you are finished, see us at the entrance! We are going out for ice cream!” Kanna said, and with that, both of the girls ran past both her and their teacher.

“They are truly two oddballs, both of them, aren’t they?” Kaneki sensei joked lightheartedly. It must have been truly strange for him to see how their demeanor changed in under two seconds. If only he knew. “Well, it must make them fun. But for now, let's go for a walk. Tell me what’s going on.”

He walks away from the entrance of the girls’ bathroom, releasing a sigh that is clearly out of relief, and she almost giggles. He surely knows how to break somber mood if nothing else. But it was Kaneki sensei - he helped her smile through worse things, so it didn’t surprise her in the least. They walk outside, through the stone paths of the school.

“So, what is this really about?” He asks her, his eyes glistening with knowledge, not buying into her story. “You may be a bit of an overachiever, but you were never the type to cry over a test. Not without a good reason, at least. Mind telling me what’s on your mind?”

Hinami looks away from him, avoiding his stare. She doesn’t really want to answer. He already knows all about the situation with her mother, but her father is a topic the stings when she even thinks about it. If she will actually try to confront it, now, she might just be left with more prickles, more wounds that she already has. Besides, she didn’t want him to view her as completely pathetic. Even she wants to have some good appearance in front of him. No one would consider her situation at home inviting.

She remained silent, so he spoke again. “Did you clash with Ayato-kun again? was there a problem yesterday?” He frowned as he suggested the idea. “He sounded like he really regretted what he did yesterday, so I didn’t think of it, but Ayato-kun is really a hit or miss with people, sometimes…” He trailed off awkwardly, swallowing nervously soon after.

“No, everything was okay with him.. I had fun with the kids, yesterday. It was nice.” Her eyes were fixated on the patterned bricks beneath her feet. It distracted her mind a little, focusing on the set pattern that went on through the paths, let her distance herself away from the problem for a while longer, avoiding how her teacher’s eyes, that will inevitably pull her away from that safety.

“...Hospital stuff?” He asks, and she bites her lip, nodding to him hesitantly. Kaneki frowned at that, looking at her sadly. “I am sorry to hear that.. It’s been awhile since we talked about it, but remember what I told you. When you are at your worst, you have to fight and pull through, before you’ll find yourself harming yourself more than the situation does.”

Hinami remembered him telling her that, months back. In more elaborate talks, she even heard him saying how he was himself in her position once with his mother, and about how he only managed to survive through it because of another person that helped him out at the time.

That conversation always stuck with her, not only because it was her first time hearing about her teacher’s past, but also because of that painful, guilty gaze that she saw in his eyes. It never left her, neither did the words of advice he said before they parted ways that day.

“Fueguchi-chan, don’t distance yourself from your loved ones. In the long run, it’ll only hurt more.”

Hinami finally felt as if she could breathe again. Far away from the school and feeling much more lighthearted after the talk with Kaneki-sensei, she felt the slightest bit liberated from her worries. Chiasa and Kanna also contributed quite a bit by taking her to a new ice cream shop that was opened recently.  

It was a big shop, and she could see some many flavors to pick from that Hinami could probably stand in front of the glass counter hours trying to decide which flavor to take. Not to mention you could also find popsicles and ice creams of different brands on the other side of the shop.

“I’ll take… The mint chocolate chip flavor, I think.” She thought to herself aloud, and Kanna scrunched her nose and let her tongue out in disgust. Hinami laughed. Her friend was never a fan of anything related to mint, and she could never understand Hinami for liking it.

“Hina-chan, I’m telling you, the cookie dough one is the best here! We all worked hard today, we deserve it as a reward!” Kanna urged her excitedly. Chiasa raised her brows, grinning a little.

“Didn’t you tell me earlier you left the test paper half blank?” She asked Kanna, and the other girl flushed a little before shrugging it off.

“It was for Hina-chan, it’s okay! I would probably retake it later anyway, I needed to study a bit more.” She replied, waving her hand in indifference. It really didn’t seem like she minded, but Hinami still felt guilty to an extent.

Chiasa put her hands on their shoulders, looking determined. “Well, how about I buy you two your ice cream today? I think you two had enough on your head for now.”  Hinami and Kanna glanced at each other and laughed.  “Well? Let’s go! before I change my mind.” She said, and both of the other girls started running towards the line for the clerk.

Hinami giggled as she looked back at Chiasa, who immediately started running after them too. She was a bit surprised at their take off, and her confused expression was amusing to look at, even a little too much - Hinami forgot to look ahead, and within a few seconds she crashed into somebody with a big thump.

She almost fell backwards, but a hand grabbed her arm and helped her stabilize quickly, pulling her in closer to the person she bumped into. She flushed a little and apologized hastily, only to lift her head and realize she knows exactly who the person in front of her is.

Kirishima Ayato stared at her blankly, his eyes slightly squinted at her. He was certainly not impressed. “Brat, you are completely hopeless. A klutz even without the kids here..” He grinned at her. She frowned at him back - it was an honest mistake! It could have happened to anyone. “You are fine, right? I’m letting go.”

His hand was off of her, and Hinami stepped back immediately. They ended up too close for comfort there. Hinami fixed her clothes and hair quickly and looked at him with a blank stare of her own. “I’m just fine. Sorry about that, Kirishima-kun... You are fine too, right?” She asked, looking away. If he asked her it’d only be rude to not ask him. She still bumped into him too.

“You don’t leave that much of an impact, shortie. Even the popsicles survived without a problem.” He lifted up a plastic bag full of brand ice creams, waving it in front of her. Her brow twitched. Hinami couldn’t even tell if that was an insult.  

“Well, I guess you are waiting behind me in line.” he said, and took his spot in the queue to the clerk. Hinami sighed. She took her place behind him, just staring at his back. It was just her luck that she ran into him today as well.

Suddenly, she felt a shiver running down her spine. Hinami looked back to see both of her friends looking at her with wide, curious eyes and excitement. Oh no. It wasn’t even hard to figure out why they were like that - even she could see how easy on the eyes Kirishima-kun is. They closed in on her, their faces practically inches from hers.

“...Who is this? How do you know him?” Chiasa asked first in a whisper. Hinami felt herself stiffen up as she saw him shuffling at his spot when she asked that. Her friends always like to pick the worst times...

“He’s, uh, from the place I do the extra credit work…” She answered quietly.

“...Seems like extra credit does give you more in life.” Kanna commented, and Hinami stomped on her foot lightly to shut her up.

“more like extra headache, in this case... And you two have boyfriends, don’t be like this!” She whispered back, leaning back on them, trying her best to make sure he doesn’t hear anything. The girls released hushed ‘oh’ before settling into uncharacteristic silence. Had Hinami looked back she had saw both of her friends holding onto their grins, but for now Hinami tried to ignore them. It was better than embarrass herself even more.

In no time the line flew by, and Hinami found herself out of the shop with Chiasa and Kanna trailing behind her, still staring at Ayato who was looking through his bag, listing the stuff in it and making sure he didn’t forget anything.

“Maybe… you should go talk to him, before he leaves.” Chiasa suggested, and Hinami squinted her eyes at her. Both she and Kanna just wanted a reason to keep looking. There was a reason to look, but Hinami still didn’t like how overexcited they were all about this. She clenched onto her ice cream cone.

“What? Why should I-”

“Because! You are going to put a lot of hours into that place, you should get to know those who work there anyway….. the earlier, the better!”

“From some reason, I don’t really believe that’s your motive.” Hinami raised her eyebrows at her. Chiasa went silent and Kanna pursued her lips. Both of her friends couldn’t be trusted at said moment, Hinami just knew. They always had the most wrapped logic, and they never failed to act on it.

Hinami backed off a little from them, looking at them with piercing eyes - she’s not having a repeat of what happened with Kaneki-sensei this morning. Especially not with Kirishima-kun! Forget it! Hinami kept inching back as her friends stepped forward. It was ridiculous to watch, it looked like two villains were cornering her. She even had her hands in front of her, one spread out in defense and the other basically ‘threatening’ with the ice cone.

It was unbelievably stupid, but what was even stupider was her falling back on her bum after failing to notice a crack on the sidewalk’s asphalt. And if it wasn’t enough, she almost managed to ruin her uniform shirt and jacket, that was now stained in minty green ice cream. Hinami had to resist the urge to fall on her back completely and just give up - something was out for her today.

Chiasa and Kanna cringed at the sight, but immediately rushed to her side and helped her up. Kanna helped her up and blurted out strings of question the all practically ask if she’s okay, while Chiasa cleaned the ice cream as much as she could from her shirt and from the bits that managed to get stuck to her hair.

“...I know I called you a klutz, but you don’t need to adopt the idea, you know? Even in the orphanage you weren’t like this.” Hinami looked behind her to see Ayato crouching in front of them. Now she kind of wished she was a klutz and bumped into him with the ice cream.

He was right to a degree, but still. She wasn’t completely herself today, after all. It happened, every once in a while, that she had a day like this. But most of the time she actually manages to hide it until she’s home. That numb feeling she had in her chest made her feel like a walking puppet, stumbling around as if a toddler was in control of it.

Hinami looked away from him as she stood up, him following in suit. She bit her lip as she looked down at herself. Her house is at the opposite part of the city… She will have to walk like that all the way home. It feels disgusting too…

“Hina-chan, maybe do you want my jacket or something until you get home? I know it’s a bit of a walk..” Chiasa offered, and Hinami smiled at her. It was nice of her to suggest, but the weather was getting chillier and Chiasa had a horrible immune system. She’d catch bad colds on left and right, and Hinami sometimes felt as if the girl was her patient. Those were the only times Hinami felt like she managed to follow her father’s footsteps in success. Hinami isn’t letting her home without a jacket, especially not after an ice cream.

“No, no. I’ll just go home quickly… Nobody will actually care. Don’t worry.” She laughed, and both of her friends frowned. Ayato watched the scene quietly. He may have thought the brat was a klutz, but still, walking through the streets of Tokyo with dirty clothes, cold and ashamed was not something he’d wish on anyone. Who like him knows it’s not the best feeling.

“Brat.” He called her out. She looked back at him, a bit annoyed. “Come on, you know the orphanage isn’t far from here. Aneki and you look the same height, she’d have a shirt.” Ayato suggested. He figured that if he acted a bit nicer to her, his sister will be happier anyway.

“Oh, um… I don’t kn-”

“Hina-chan! Have fun at the orphanage at the same time! I’m sure the kids love you there!” Kanna barged into her words, smiling. She was about to say something, but both of her friends started walking away, waving their hands while grinning from ear to ear. Wonderful.

She sighed as she stood next to him. She could just leave but…

“So are we going?” Maybe she should at least go to get a new shirt.

They entered the orphanage, both of them basking in the warmness the heater radiated to the room. Hinami could hear the voices of the children playing upstairs. This place always felt so lively that it felt odd to her. “Aneki! Are you here?” Ayato shouts out to the distance, and the children seem to all quiet down upstairs.

Laughs and talks are replaced by the sounds of footsteps, and she could see the kids going down the stairs hurriedly, fighting each other for the lead as they skip through each individual stair. Right behind them came Touka, as elegant as she was the day Hinami first saw her, separating the kids and scolding them for their behavior before coming forward towards them.

“What it is Aya- Fueguchi-chan? What happened to your shirt?” Her hand covered her mouth as she caught the sight of Hinami behind her brother. Hinami was embarrassed, but gave out a hesitant smile and bowed her head respectfully.

“She’s a klutz and she decided to decorate her shirt with her ice cream instead of eating it. Can you lend her something?” Ayato asked for her, and she was sort of grateful even despite the unflattering explanation. She’s still awkward around other people in the orphanage, and he was only okay because he was close to her age. And because he was rude. It was okay to be informal to rude people.

“Ah! Alright. Watch over the kids while I’m taking care of that, okay?”

“Already on it.” Ayato lifted the bag of ice cream in his hands. “The ice cream I promised you earlier is here! Eat it before I regret letting you have some on winter. You are lucky it was sort of hot today anyway.” All the children gathered around him. Touka sighed and signed Hinami with her hand to come back upstairs with her.

Hinami followed her steps up the stairs. in front of her, a hallway filled with doors. It must have been the children’s rooms, she figured. Each room had a sign saying to who it belonged. Some of the doors were half opened, and she could see messy rooms with some toys on the ground, or things of that like.  

They truly left everything they had in hand when they heard Ayato’s call. It was undeniably cute to think about, even if she didn’t know him like that. She was engrossed in the thought until Touka opened the last door in the hall, revealing a neat, yet rather empty room aside from a bed, a work desk and a closet.

“You and Ayato met each other at the ice cream shop?” Touka asked as she opened the closet, looking through the shirts she has inside. She seemed to look for a thicker one, contemplating about the folded clothes in front of her. Hinami shifted her weight between her feet. She didn’t want misunderstandings..

“Ah, um… My friends took me there to cheer me up after school. Uh, I was a bit down earlier.” She quickly explained, her fingers twiddling. “I met him by accident..” She added. Touka pulled out a nice white sweater, and spread it out in front of Hinami, as if trying to envision how it would exactly look on her.

“Oh. I thought he finally decided to take my advice and apologize properly… But fine, at least he learned some manners, it seems.” She said, smiling to herself. Touka handed her the sweater on the same opprotunity. “Here, this should do. It’s warm so it’ll keep you from freezing when you go back home. Should I get out of the room?” She asked, her eyes kind as always.

She always has that comfortable, homely feeling radiating. She almost reminded Hinami of her mother. A woman that is kind, in control of her life and is easy to look up to. Hinami sometimes thinks that seeing her was fate’s plan to make her hurt more, but somehow, the feeling of wanting to cling to the comfort she gave was what created a new wound.

“No, it’s fine! Just give me a second.” Hinami turned around and walked towards the work desk to her side. Putting the shirt given to her on it, she took of her jacket and started undoing the buttons on her shirt.

“...How are you feeling now, Fueguchi-chan?” She heard Touka asking, and bit her lip, leading them to a sudden, tense silence. “You said they had to cheer you up, all..” The older woman continued, probably thinking the unresponsiveness was due to her not being clear.

Hinami shifted out of her shirt and sighed before answering. “I’m better.. Except for the part where I stained my uniform, it was fun with my friends. Kaneki-sensei also cheered me up earlier. Don’t worry.” She said, hoping Touka would leave the subject with that.

“Kaneki did, huh?...” Touka mumbled to herself. Hinami wasn’t aware if she was supposed to hear that. It sounded almost longing. “It must have been  a bit serious for a teacher to get involved…” She picked up her tone soon after.

“It’s a bit of a long term problem.. My mother has a few health issues, and he’s been helping me with it since the start. That’s all.” Hinami explained vaguely. She figured it was better than just start spouting her life story, as she put on the white sweater on herself. She just got it, she doesn’t want to cry on it already.

“Well, when he was a kid, he did have a similar problem himself… My dad used to tutor him when he was a kid, so I know. My dad taught him Japanese, can you believe it?” She said, reminiscing old memories. “He probably should have spent more time teaching me and Ayato when he could, though.”

It was strange for Hinami to hear that her teacher ever needed any tutoring in Japanese. It didn’t bug her as much as the wistful softness of Touka’s voice in the last sentence, though. It seemed so vulnerable. But just as it came, it left in seconds, and Touka turned around to look at her.

“The sweater looks great on you, Fueguchi-chan. How about you go downstairs? I’ll fix the mess I made in my closet and take care of your shirt and jacket for now. I’m sure Ayato wouldn’t mind the help.” She suggested, but it didn’t feel like a suggestion. She wasn’t intimidating, nothing like that… but the smile on Touka’s face looked pained. Struggling.

Despite wanting to ask her if something is wrong, Hinami just nodded in panic, unsure of what to do. She doesn’t want to see this. Not from this woman, that reminds her of her mother. “Yes, th-thank you for the shirt, Kirishima-san.” She said and rushed out of the room, as fast as she could without it being too strange.

She let herself relax as the door closed shut behind her. Her heart was pounding, the rush of feelings speeding its pace and banishing away the numbness that kept her stable through the day. Hinami breathed in and out, trying to distract herself from her thoughts. Walking away from the room, she could hear sniffles.

Downstairs, after waiting out for them to finish their ice creams, Ayato was attempting to teach the children some Japanese. They still had those old books from when his father was still alive, so he pulled them out for the task. His father used to say that reading was the best way to learn a language, and writing was the best way practice it. He never listened to his father’s teachings though, and now he’s having it harder due to it.

It’s not like he’s horrible in Japanese. It was one of his courses in college, and he attempted his best to make up for what he couldn’t learn when he was younger, but Japanese wasn’t easy for him, and he absolutely hated sitting through a lecture about it.

He told the children to read through the books and write down words they have trouble with, and call him if they need him to clarify anything, but it seemed that most of them needed more help than expected. They had a hard time understanding words that are considered of medium difficulty, and while Ayato could help them, it was hard taking care of all of them at once.

He ran a hand through his hair as he tried to help three kids at the same time. Looking to his side, he could see Hinami coming from down the stairs, now wearing a white sweater instead of her stained shirt. It seemed a bit long on her, covering her skirt until its edge that popped out from under it, but it looked fine.

“Nii-san.. How do you read this?...” Yuki joined the group of preteens that were already asking for help with everything. Ayato wanted to slam his head into a wall, but he just released a tired sigh instead. He wouldn’t be able to handle this by himself, and Touka doesn’t seem to want to come down…

“Brat!” He called Hinami out. She looked at him with surprise and confusion in her eyes. “You are an honor student, aren’t you? Come over here, we’re having a Japanese lesson here!” He continued, and Hinami seemed fazed for a few seconds, but she recovered in seconds and nodded, coming towards them.

She sat down next him. Ayato directed two kids to her from the bunch - and she was quick to start helping them. Hinami seemed to like Japanese and literature more than he did, fortunately for him. It made it much easier for her to help the children. She had aptitude for the subject, while he wasn’t even really interested in it at all.

Complicated kanji of different meanings was nothing for her to explain, it seemed like she was just familiar with it all. Even if she was a klutz, she was the traditional book smart person, and it was something that could certainly help the orphanage.

“You are pretty good with it, Fueguchi.” He sincerely complimented when he finished helping the kids himself. She was a bit quicker than him with that, but he isn’t going to address that. He was a college student, damn it! It was pretty embarrassing. He’d have to work harder on his Japanese if he doesn’t want to lag behind…

She seemed a bit surprised as he said that, but relaxed in position as she watched the kids reading the books. She hugged her knees and let her head sit on them. “Thank you.. I used to read and learn a lot from my parents’ books. They liked books with fancy words, sort of. Well, my mom did - dad only reads books if they are medicine related… Well, those had fancy words too.” She smiled to herself, but let her head sink to her legs.

She turned her face to him, her cheek brushing against her knee. “You’re pretty good a it too though. Though I guess since you are at college and all I shouldn’t be surprised… Did you take Japanese as a course?” She stared at his hoodie and the words across it.

Tsubasa University.

It’s a good school, that is hard to be accepted into generally, unless you have high grades or is very talented in sports. It’s not as difficult to get into as Kamii is, but it’s still considered top tier. Even if Hinami doesn’t have the best impression of him, there is no denying he has to be smart, or at the very least sincerely talented for him to be able to get in there.

“Yeah, I take Japanese. Never really liked it though.” He said truthfully, looking away from her. She seemed a bit excited to talk about it, and he sort of felt bad for not returning the enthusiasm for the subject.

“Oh. Why do you take Japanese, then?” Rather than disappointed, she seemed more curious.

“None of us here are really too good in Japanese. Aneki isn’t good at it, Kaya and Enji aren’t good either, Yomo is fine but he doesn’t have the time or social skills to help the kids with it a lot. But they need someone to teach them, so… Had to learn it myself, you know.”

“...That is… Really sweet.” She said in a bit of a shock, and Ayato frowned.  

“What, is it so strange?” He asked, annoyed. He worked hard for this place, of course he’d try his best for the children in it. Learning a subject he didn’t like was nothing compared to all the effort his sister pulled in order to get this place. It’s the little he could do.

“Well, I don’t really know you much… But I didn’t mean it badly. I’d like to be like that, if I could… The children at hospital - well, currently, the child I help with the hospital would be better off with someone that selfless.” She said, and Ayato was taken a bit off guard. She seemed sad, as her eyes trailed around the children in front of them.

“Why do you think so?” He asked. It’s not good to pry, but she opened the topic herself.

“Well… I don’t think I can help him as much as I want to. He has a lot of problems that I deal with myself… Sometimes I wonder if I do him any good I am there. Except for relaxing him, I don’t seem to benefit him almost at all. I don’t think I have a way to help him by myself.”

“What do you think he needs?”

“I think… he needs friends to stand by his side. If he just stays at the hospital and only sees me, he won’t let himself open to others. Well, he can’t get out of the hospital for now, but I don’t want him to only have me as support. He’s really been through a lot, he needs more than just me.”

Ayato contemplated for a few seconds what to say. He looked at the kids around them, and then again back at her. He wondered how that kid felt, being stuck in a hospital for days, having no outlet whatsoever except one person to look forward to. He had an idea, but is this a good one…?

Fuck it. Orphanages take care of kids, he might as well suggest it.

“What if we took the kids to meet him? I can talk to Aneki. They don’t get out a lot, it would be nice for them, maybe..”

Hinami jumped from her spot, inching just a bit closer, with wide eyes and a smile that barely contained her excitement for the idea. “Do you really think it’s possible? I’d have to convince Hajime but it’ll do him good! I’m sure!”

Ayato scooted away from her, feeling a bit too close for comfort at the moment. “You have to help teach the kids in whatever though if we do this! With no whining or complaints!” He yelled out, trying to look away from her. He could see the kids laughing at him from the side.

Hinami nodded happily, now sitting on her knees and her hands holding each other.  She seemed much happier than she did moments ago. It was endearing, but left him in a bit of a shocked state. Her mind now seemed fully distracted with the possibility. “Thank you, Kirishima-kun.”

“Calm down! I just said I’d ask Touka!” He reminded, but she seemed to ignore him.

“Maybe I should change your name in my phone…” She mumbled out.

“What?”

“Uh, um, nothing!” She said and stood up, running away, pulling her phone out of the pocket the sweater had.

“Brat, don’t run! what do you mean?!”

[raywritesthings]

Having Them On

My Writing Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor Pairing: Doctor/Donna Summary: Donna wants to try a different strategy when they meet people, but the Doctor's not entirely sure it's a good idea. AO3 link  

“I have an idea,” Donna announced out of the blue one morning. She'd brought lunch to the console room with her since he was in the middle of a tricky bit of maintenance.

The Doctor poked his head out from underneath the grating. “Brilliant! I love your ideas. What is it?”

“You know how everywhere we go people assume we're a couple?”

The eager smile dropped off his face. “Er, yes?” He should have realized Donna would still be smarting about that after their encounter with Yovich.

“Well, it never seems to work, us telling them that we're not,” she pointed out from her perch on the jump seat. “They just think we're lying or something. But I mean, why would we lie about it?”

“Why indeed?” He managed while ignoring that familiar tightening feeling in his chest. The Doctor retreated back under the grating. He really couldn't leave this task for very long, anyway.

“So it got me thinking — what if we did lie?”

The wire he'd been attempting to gently unplug from the time altimeter ripped out when he jolted in shock, and he received a second electric shock as a result. “Ah!”

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” Donna's voice was closer now, and he felt one of her hands land on his knee. His leg twitched involuntarily.

“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth. “I'm fine. What do you mean ‘what if we did lie’?”

“I mean, what if we agreed when they assume we’re a couple? Well?” She added when he was silent.

“You know what? I’m not fine,” he said. “That shock must have gone through my brain and mixed some signals around because I could not have heard you properly.”

“Oh sure. You did hear me, now let me explain, Martian.”

The Doctor set the wires aside for the moment. Whatever Donna had to say seemed likely to incur further injury if he split his attention.

“Whenever we go somewhere and tell people we're not a couple, they never believe us. Like they think we're having them on. So, I'm thinking, what if we did have them on? We pretend we're a couple, but it's so fake they totally see right through it.”

“Fake,” he echoed.

“Yeah,” said Donna. “You know, pet names and hanging off each other and talking the other one up all the time. Just real obnoxious.”

To the Doctor's mind, referring to Donna with terms of endearment, being physically close, and praising her to others did not sound obnoxious at all. It sounded lovely. But Donna couldn't know that.

“Right, obnoxious,” he agreed.

“It's not a good idea, is it?”

Shifting slightly to the left allowed him a glimpse of Donna through the grating. She was still knelt beside him but had taken her hand away from his knee. Drawing herself away.

“It's—” The Doctor struggled with what to say; he didn't want to deal a blow to her self-confidence, but it wasn't a good idea if only due to his own failings.

He was already pretending not to be in love with Donna Noble. He wasn't sure even he could pull off pretending to date her to pretend he didn't want to date her.

“— worth a shot, I suppose,” he settled for, supportive if not actively encouraging. The smile it brought to Donna's face was worth it alone.

“Okay.” She patted his leg again before standing. “Finish up down there and pick some place for us to try it out. I'm gonna take these dishes back and freshen up. You sure you don't want any?”

“Nah, not hungry.” He certainly wasn't now what with the series of anatomically impossible flip flops his stomach was currently performing. “But stop by the wardrobe on your way back. The TARDIS should help you find something suitable.”

“Why, where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” was all he said. He heard Donna’s huff and smiled to himself as her footsteps faded down the corridor. Then he jammed the wires back into place and shimmied out from under the grating. The Doctor threw the first switch necessary to take them out of the Vortex and leaned in close to the Time Rotor. “Please, please, please, please, please for once go where I ask.”

This was his one shot, his one chance to even get a taste of what a world beyond “just mates” was. It had to be big, it had to be grand, and, most importantly, it had to be something Donna would love. Something he could look back on fondly, even if the memory of it might hurt just as much.

To his satisfaction, when he bounded down the ramp to check after landing, he found they’d parked right where he’d meant to. “Thank you,” he muttered, patting a coral strut.

“Spaceman, I’m telling you right now—” Donna’s voice, as well as the clacking of heels, preceded her reentry. “If you open those doors and we’re on some jungle planet, I am staying put today. There is no way I am letting you ruin a dress this nice.”

He turned around and felt all the air leave him in a rush. Donna was wearing a deep blue evening gown that reached nearly to her toes. Something was inlaid in the fabric that allowed it to shimmer slightly even in the dim light of the console room. The sleeves were resting off her shoulders and that combined with the low neckline was affording him an unhindered view the likes of which he’d not had since her failed wedding. The Doctor dragged his gaze up to focus instead on the way she'd swept her hair back into some intricate looking affair, just one or two wisps escaping to curl at the base of her neck — and that was not focusing, or at least not the way he'd meant to.

“The TARDIS picked that out?” He asked, needing to distract himself with something.

Donna shrugged, which was in itself distracting, but again, not the way he needed right now. “It was hanging in front of the mirror. Seemed as good a sign as any.”

Trust the Old Girl to always find some way of conspiring against him. Though he supposed that wasn't fair; the TARDIS could have given Donna a brown paper sack to wear, and he would still find her distracting simply because she was Donna.

“I am dressed right for where we’re going, right?” She checked. “I mean, what's that look about? Is it really a space jungle out there?”

“Uh, no,” said the Doctor, coming back to himself. “No space jungle. But why take my word for it?” He went back down the ramp and held the door open for her. Donna passed him with a bemused sort of smile, but that quickly morphed into a look of surprise and wonder.

He couldn't blame her, having parked them just beside the door to the cargo hold, which afforded them a slightly out of the way view of a marble tiled lobby with large windows on either side displaying the stars they were currently drifting past. A multitude of guests in glittering gowns and dashing tuxedos were proceeding through a door nearly twenty feet high leading to a brightly lit ballroom. Music and the occasional burst of laughter or the clinking of glass on glass was already spilling out into the lobby.

“It’s a Starliner,” he answered her unspoken question. “Built to travel between planets, between galaxies even, with every luxury and amenity money can buy. This is right at the height of the Fourth Great and Bountiful Human Empire.”

“You’d think they'd have decided the name was bad luck after the third time,” she said, voice fainter than usual, but the Doctor still found himself smirking at her quip.

“You’d think.”

They stepped out of the TARDIS together, and once he'd locked it behind them, Donna looped her arm through his. She was too captivated by everything around them to notice the glances he kept sneaking, which he felt guilty about but couldn’t seem to help. Did she even know how lovely she was? Even stuck on the arm of someone like him.

As if reading his mind, Donna rose up on her toes to mutter in his ear, “You know you're underdressed,” causing him to shiver as they approached the crowd.

He looked down at his suit. “Shouldn't be too much of a problem. A bit of fun’s all we’re here for. We’ll be long gone before they realize they’ve two extra passengers they don't have a room for.” He met Donna’s sharp look and quickly added, “Or...anything else.”

They got in line to enter and spent a few short minutes chatting with the couple ahead of them. The two gentlemen, one a retired schoolteacher and the other an engineer, were celebrating their fiftieth anniversary paid for by their grandchildren and had never taken so much as a sea cruise before. He and Donna offered them both a hearty congratulations just as they cleared the threshold.

“You’ve cleaned up real nice. Very classy,” Donna assured them with a warm smile. Then she bumped his shoulder. “Not like this one.”

They all shared a laugh, even if it was at his expense.

“Oh, well thank you!” Said the retired teacher, taking a brown, weathered, and trembling hand off his cane to shake hands with them each in turn. “And enjoy your honeymoon.”

Donna’s smile froze a bit while the Doctor tugged at his ear uncomfortably. The other two were already moving off across the floor, and it seemed rather futile to call them back just for a correction or to get them to guess at their charade.

“We, er, we weren’t trying just yet, were we?” He said eventually, keeping his eyes on Donna’s toes, or at least the ones that poked out at the front of her heels.

“Right,” she agreed quickly. “So that one didn’t count.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, looking away. “Oh, here comes another chance. I think that might be the hostess.” He nodded to a woman in a sequined gown and furs standing in the center of the room and surrounded by various guests, all chattering loudly. “Think we should introduce ourselves?”

“Long as it doesn’t end with us getting thrown in the brig,” Donna replied, but she was already tugging him over the way he’d observed one or two women do to their various significant others. “What’s her name?”

“Olympe D'anneaux. A titan in the—”

“Alright, I don’t need her life story, Spaceman. Olympe!” She called out.

The older woman turned with a smile that was amazingly faker than Donna’s. “Oh, my dear, how good of you to make it! And I see you’ve brought your man.”

Donna patted his arm with the hand that wasn’t already holding his. “Yes, I did.”

“Have you met Conrad? He’s an investor for the Thirty-Three Fifth’s Bank.”

Conrad turned out to be the tall, broad-shouldered man to the right of their hostess, the type of man Donna normally drooled over. Predictably, she extended her hand with shining eyes. “Donna Noble.”

“Charmed,” said Conrad the investor, taking Donna’s hand and kissing the back of it. The Doctor scowled, which unfortunately did not go missed by Olympe.

“Conrad, you rascal,” she laughed. “Mr. Noble standing right there and everything!”

The Doctor blanched.

“No, we’re not married—” His trained response was cut off by Donna of all people and not to agree with him.

“Yet! Not married yet. I try not to nag him, but I know for a fact he's got a ring.” Donna turned a too-bright smile his way. Right, the ruse. “Any plans you want to share, sweetheart?”

This was probably the bit where he was meant to act ludicrously over enthusiastic, showing off how strange this all was and causing the others to guess this was all some silly act so that next thing he knew Donna would be going off with Conrad for a quiet few moments alone. He didn’t much fancy any of that.

“I was thinking Christmas,” the Doctor said, staring right at her. “Seeing as it's an anniversary of sorts for us.” He watched her eyes widen, and the slightest pink blush rise in her cheeks.

“Oh, how romantic!” Their hostess exclaimed, clasping her hands together.

“Well, you’ll have to pull out all the stops now she's expecting it,” said Conrad, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder.

“Only the best for my Donna,” he agreed readily, baring his teeth in a grin. “Speaking of, would you like a drink, darling?”

“Er, yeah, you know what I like,” said Donna, watching him as he left.

The Doctor ordered for the both of them at the bar, needing something for his nerves or whatever it was that had him nearly blowing everything. He knew they weren't really together, and therefore Donna was at perfect liberty to fancy whoever she liked. She might even leave him someday for the sake of some fellow she fancied; she wouldn't be the first.

For the first time, however, he had a terrible feeling he wouldn't have the good grace to let her go without making a fool of himself.

Scarcely had their drinks been placed down then did Donna appear at his side. “Thought you were catching up with Olympe,” he said.

Donna scoffed, and the Doctor smirked behind the rim of his glass. “Yeah, didn't really feel like being alone with Ms. Stepford and her cronies.” She accepted her drink with a nod in thanks, then turned and braced her elbows back on the bar to observe the party going on around them, the sleeves of her dress sagging further down her arms. The engineer they’d made friends with on their way in spotted them across the room, and Donna waved to the older man and his husband while sliding a little closer to him. The Doctor twitched his fingers and brushed the silk of her gown, then made a mental game of finding patterns in the freckles on her shoulders.

“How come wealthy people always want to show off to other people? Even people they don't like,” Donna pondered aloud. “Suppose that’d be more showing up, then.”

He shrugged. “Never changes. Why do you like to show up Nerys?”

“Oi.”

The warning signal. He’d let his mouth run away from him, hadn't he? The Doctor tore his gaze from the speckled sunflower he’d been drawing in his mind’s eye to meet her stern look. “What I meant was, I suppose people don't like other people to make assumptions or think poorly of them. So they show off the best of what they've got and sweep all the rest of it under the rug. Take Ms. D’anneaux, for example.”

Donna looked over at the woman who was now leading her entourage off the main floor to make room for those wishing to dance to the orchestra. “Why? What about her?”

“Well, she's just disowned her daughter for running off with a Qu’larken girl. The humans and Qu’larkens are in a terrible feud in this time. Mother and daughter will never see each other again.” He pointed out Conrad next. “And I suspect your friend is making such a personal investment in the cheap champagne because his bank is about to fail. One of the worst bankruptcies of the century.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yes. Everyone’s got a secret, some pretense they're hiding behind.” He lifted his eyes to the opulent chandelier hanging above them. “Particularly in a place like this.”

“What about the couple we were talking with? Those nice men, they couldn’t have something to hide,” she insisted.

The Doctor said nothing for a long time, until Donna's stare grew so insistent as to be unbearable. “He’s sick. The teacher, the one who shook our hands. This could be an anniversary gift, could also be one last night on the town.”

At his words, Donna's look turned to dismay. “He’s dying. They're gonna lose each other?”

He inclined his head. “Eventually. But here for one night, they can forget about all that and dance their cares away.” He turned from the glitz and glamor to Donna who was watching it all with a frown.

“Everyone here's lying to everyone else and themselves.”

“Especially themselves.” He placed his finished drink on the counter and held out a hand to her. “Shall we?”

Donna lost the frown to instead blink in utter confusion. “Sorry, what?”

His hand continued to hang in the air between them. “You like dancing, don't you? I’ve seen you.”

“Well I’ve never seen you. I didn't even know if you could dance.” Despite the wary tone, she placed her hand in his and let him lead them out to where other couples already swayed to the music.

“Well there we are. Should be suitably obnoxious, then.”

They were already holding hands, so he simply laced his fingers through hers and placed the other hand high on her waist, only meeting her eyes as the first beats of the song started up.

He was admittedly a little rusty at this. It had been a while since Reinnette’s lessons at Versailles, and he hadn't exactly been keeping up with practice. Donna was fortunately rather good at leading; he could picture her steering many a man about the floor, those boys Wilf had said she'd seen one after the other.

“What are you grinning about?” Donna peered up at him.

“What's not to grin about?” He countered instead.

Tonight was his night, for better or worse, and whether or not Donna found someone she could actually love in a year or tomorrow had no bearing on now. The future couldn't touch them just yet; fretting about it only squandered the present.

The song they had been dancing to changed to something a little more upbeat, and a few more couples came out onto the floor, particularly young ones.

Donna looked around at the steps they were doing. “I don't know this one.”

“That's to be expected. We are thousands of years in your future,” he reminded.

“Do you know it?”

“Nope. We’ll just have to make it up as we go along.”

“Oh, so the usual strategy then?” She asked. The Doctor laughed and swung them about to get them moving.

They gained a reputation pretty quickly by the wide berth other dancers seemed to be giving them, but that just encouraged him to spin Donna out of his arms and back in again whenever the whim struck him, which was often as he enjoyed the way her dress fanned out around her ankles, and her eyes sparkled in sheer delight.

“You’re making me dizzy,” she gasped, leaning heavily against his shoulder as they swayed for a few beats.

“Having fun though?” Donna nodded, which he felt as well as saw. “I promise not to let you fall.”

His hand had slipped a few dangerous inches lower to her hip, but Donna either hadn't noticed or couldn't be bothered just yet. Her own hand was resting at the back of his neck, fingers threading through the hairs there. He didn't know if that was just meant to be another part of the act, but if he closed his eyes he could pretend it wasn't.

The tempo began to pick up again. “What's our big finale?” Donna asked, raising her head from his shoulder and flowing seamlessly into another spin.

He pulled her back a little too close; her hand landed on his chest. “Well, remember how I said no falling?”

“Yeah?”

He grinned, his own hand shifting to her back in preparation. “You ready?”

Donna's eyes went wide. “Don't you dare. Martian, don't you dare!”

He dipped her anyway. Her laughter and the way she clung to him seemed to call her warning into question, but he was too busy laughing himself to remark upon it.

Donna's cheeks were flushed, and her chest heaved as she smiled up at him. The pins or whatever she'd done to her hair had come loose, and now it spilled almost to the floor in ginger waves.

He was breathless and not from the dancing. His tongue darted out to wet dry lips, and something in Donna's look shifted. Still smiling, still warm, but somehow more intense than before. It drew him in.

The Doctor pulled them upright, his arm still flush against her back — and there was no space between them as suddenly Donna's face was right in front of his, her heels aiding her as well as the fact his head seemed to be tilting down towards hers. Before he could stop himself, before he could think it through, he was kissing her.

Her lips were soft. He’d noticed that before, when she’d kissed him, and he'd been too shocked to remember he was dying. And they were warm, too. Everything about Donna was warm. He loved that about her. He loved this. He loved her.

The Doctor stilled, lips hovering just a breath away from hers. At some point, his eyes had closed, and he didn't dare open them. He didn't think he could bear the shock — or worse, the accusation — that was bound to be in Donna's eyes.

“Need some space,” he stammered, pulling away and pulled on as Donna's clenched hands in his collar were dislodged by his abrupt exit. He left her on the dance floor in that ballroom and kept walking right out through a side door.

The star decks that ringed the ship truly were a remarkable feat of engineering. Reinforced one-way glass allowed the passengers an unobstructed yet private view of the stars while temperature-controlled air was regularly cycled in. Still not quite fresh, though. The Doctor loosened his tie and gripped the railing of the observation deck hard enough that his knuckles turned bleach white.

Any odd behavior tonight, anything that seemed just a little outside the normal bounds could have been explained away as him trying to play the role she had assigned him. But that had been a step too far. He had no idea how he'd make excuses now, that was if Donna would even forgive him long enough to hear them.

The door opened, and the Doctor hung his head; he had a feeling he knew who it was.

“Hey, Spaceman,” Donna called, voice soft.

“Hey.”

She walked up to his side again. “How's space?”

“Good. It's good. You see that star there?” He pointed to one particularly bright speck. “It's not even a part of this galaxy, but it's the brightest star in the sky of every planet that is in this galaxy. Isn't that brilliant? One tiny little star making itself seen across the cosmos.”

“Yeah.” She smiled, but it wasn't as bright as usual. “Listen, Doctor, I just wanted to say—”

“Donna, about what happened in there—” he began with no plan of how that sentence would end.

“I’m sorry,” they said together.

The Doctor leaned back. “What?”

Donna's eyes narrowed. “Hang on, why are you sorry?”

He stared. “I...kissed you?” Saying it out loud only solidified how real and insurmountable and foolish an action it had been in his mind, and he winced in preparation of the deserved slap that was no doubt coming.

“Right, and I get because it was my stupid idea,” Donna said instead, then sighed. “I thought if I could just prove to myself how ridiculous we would be as a couple, I could stop thinking about it. Wondering.”

His voice felt stuck in his throat. Still, he managed to ask, “Wondering?”

“Yeah.”

He was frozen in a moment of time, afraid to act one way or the other.

“I think I know why we make such a rubbish fake couple.” Donna slowly turned her face from the vast vista above and before them. “It's cause we're a real one, aren't we?”

The Doctor swallowed once. “How do you figure that?”

“Everyone’s lying, especially to themselves,” she echoed.

He smiled, head ducked. “Oh. Very nice.” Trust Donna to see right through his own hypocrisy.

When he glanced at her, she was smiling as well, lips pressed together as if to keep herself from doing so too much. It was then he thought he finally processed what it was Donna had been trying to tell him since coming out here. She had always been trying to hide how pleased she was with him.

“I suppose we’ve just been having ourselves on this whole time,” he remarked which got a nod from her. “So, if we're agreed on that,” he began, somewhat faltering. This was entirely new ground for them, after all, and considering the rather explosive nature of their first negotiation, it was best to proceed with caution. “What happened in there was...good?”

She tilted her head in consideration. “Yeah, well, you took me for drinks and dancing first. I’d say we're there. Not like we haven't kissed before.”

“Very true,” he agreed. “So no objections to kissing?”

“No — well, apart from the bit where you ran out on me in the middle of it.”

The Doctor grimaced. “Your critique is noted.”

Donna was grinning now, her eyes sparkling with the pinpricks of reflected stars. “Just wait. There’ll be more of those.”

“Oh, I bet there will be.”

“Shall I write them down for you?”

“I think I can manage. Though—” he wet his lips and debated how daring he was feeling; Donna before him in a beautiful dress, the feel of her mouth against his still fresh in his mind, he thought he might be capable of anything. “—might require some practical experience to get it all down.”

“I’m sure,” she replied with a roll of her eyes, but she obliged him with a step into his space.

“Never underestimate the importance of field work, Donna.” The Doctor's touch was light as he first brushed her cheek with his thumb, then cupped the back of her head and let his fingers comb through her hair. He didn't know which she liked better yet; he didn't know which he liked better, only that he liked it all.

Donna was remaining remarkably patient throughout all of this, leaning into his hand and watching him through hooded eyes. It was a look quite similar to the one she'd worn in the ballroom just before he kissed her. Perhaps there was some predictive behavior to all this, because kiss her was precisely what he proceeded to do.

Donna's lips were just as warm and soft, but this time they moved against his with an eagerness that had him staggering back into the railing. Her eyes were closed, and he had trouble keeping his own open in order to watch her rather than simply lose himself in the moment. He lost that battle with a groan when she pressed in closer and let go of his shoulders to bury her hands in his hair.

There was something all consuming about being kissed by Donna Noble, though he'd known that ever since the 1920s. “I was right before,” the Doctor mumbled. “Really must do this more often.”

Donna snorted. “Knew it. Meant the detox, my arse.” She tilted her head back as he began nosing along her jawline, searching for a hum or a hitch in her breath that might indicate further experimentation. His Donna, bathed in starlight and stroking his hair. He wasn't sure his hearts could take it.

“This must be an alternate timeline,” he said between light kisses he trailed along the the same path. There was a spot behind her ear that was shaping up to be promising. “You haven't taken temporary leave of your senses, have you? Not an android in disguise sent to incapacitate me?”

“Why would you think that?” Asked Donna, her voice much breathier than usual.

“It's just you’ve seemed very adamant about not being interested.” Could she really blame him for wanting reassurance?

“Well I wasn't gonna be caught out fancying you if you didn't fancy me. You're the one who started all that ‘just mates’ business.”

The Doctor paused. “You’re right. I must have been out of my head that night.”

“You’re always out of your head, Martian,” Donna reminded him.

He smiled into the curve of her neck. “Oh yeah.”

The doors banged open again, and they jumped apart to see a young couple stopped short just on the threshold.

“Oh, excuse us,” one of them began.

“That's okay, we're not—”

“We weren't—”

The Doctor and Donna stopped at the same time and looked at each other. They really were going to have to work on that reflex.

“Actually, you know what?” Said the Doctor, wrapping an arm around Donna’s waist. “We are and we were, so if you wouldn't mind finding your own deck, that'd be lovely.”

“Er, alright.” They were very quickly left alone.

Donna pushed him away and let out a laugh. “I can't believe you just did that! We're gonna be the talk of the party now.”

“Oh, let them.” He didn't mind what anyone had to say about him and Donna, not when all that talk had led them right here.

She looked away, smiling, and he had a feeling she was thinking much the same thing. “Seriously, who were we fooling?”

He drew her back into his arms; now that he knew he could, he couldn't stand her being anywhere else. “No one. No one at all.”