#even just Jean luc ... it's like day and night if you listen to it ... how could we even fuck that one up?

[acatwithstockings]

One of my favorite things to do is to talk to fellow Trekkies on the english side of the internet and just sprinkle in some agressive german pronouciation of names .

It's not that i like the german pronouciation quite far from it, i just find it hilarious.

[naoa-ao3]

The Bad Things We Do

Remy knows that he's not doing good working for Sinister but in a pinch he hadn't known anywhere else to go and so now he works alongside men like Scalphunter and Victor Creed, people with more of a taste for blood than he has and each day is a kind of challenge all of it's own.

They aren't friendly and he's no assassin.

He thought Sinister knew that but the team of people he's on now tells him a different story.

Wrong Guild.

Wrong man but here he is, working with people who laugh about killing and wrecking other lives.

Creed is the most unnerving. He's getting better at navigating the man, figuring out how not to piss him off but there's just something extra sickening when Creed talks about the things he's done to people.

The men and women he's hurt, sometimes even the children and Remy thinks of Belladonna and her people and wonders if maybe it's a good thing the wedding went south, so to speak.

He's a thief and he isn't cut out for the killing fields.

Sinister for the most part sends them out to find other mutants, sometimes he sees those mutants again. . . sometimes not.

Sometimes Sinister asks for one of them to come down to his lab and even though they usually always come back they never come back the same.

Remy is afraid of him but it's too late to leave now. He's made his deal and Sinister has kept his end, Remy's powers are under control now so he'll have to keep his end too. After all it isn't like he has anywhere else to go.

He's really on his own for the first time in his life. Maybe for the first time since the night he was born. All the other years the Guilds and Jean-Luc were watching over his shoulder, making plans and setting courses in motion but that's all done with now.

A calamitous wedding and now he's homeless and far from everyone and everything he knows, banished from his city and still just beginning to understand what he is.

Mutants. . . the word was around when he was young but he'd never put much thought into them before.

Now he's surrounded by them and one of them and he doesn't know if he's a thief or a mutant or something worse. . . he doesn't want to be a killer. Taking one life was enough. Now sometimes he wakes up thinking about the wedding and Belladonna and Julien and how it all went wrong. . . the nights those thoughts come to him he shakes and sweats and can't make himself go back to sleep after but he doesn't think his new coworkers are the types to listen. Creed actually likes killing.

Through all of this, he's still young, still waiting for the years to make him a wiser man and to bring him to his destiny. He's never heard of the X-Men but he will.

He spends the days between missions under Sinister's watch. The mad scientist or whatever he fancies himself keeps a watch on everyone, everyone who owes him something and so they never get far, even when they try.

People don't get away from Sinister. They just don't and he isn't stupid enough to think that making a run for it would pay off. He's not Creed, he's not important enough to Sinister for him to forgive. If he get's away that day will come.

He's started to hate it though, Sinister's compound is large and ascetic. It's walls are white and sterile and he feels like a lab rat, trapped in a maze of blank tiles and endless hallways.

The people he brings back go down those hallways. There's one he found in the blank, empty hours between missions. He hasn't gone down it but Creed saw him looking once and grinned.

"Don't wanna go down there, boy." He'd said and Remy hadn't. Something about the way Creed had smiled or something about the feeling he was getting. . . it all turned him away but there's a sick fascination in his guts. He knows Sinister experiments on them all. That's bad enough but the feeling is worse. The walls seem extra white and unfeeling down that hallway.

They bring in a mutant one day, a shaking man with red hair and skin so white he looks cut out of paper. He's one of the mutants you can recognize just looking at them. The skin color and the extra set of eyes don't help. They search the ceiling and his captors in desperation and Remy swallows an uncomfortable lump. He doesn't want to be party to this.

He doesn't believe Sinister when he say's he helps people like this and he knows none of the others do too.

Creed shakes the man who sobs but it's too late, they're already back at the compound and the man is helpless, for all his strangeness, he doesn't seem to have any kind of powers.

Remy think's he might be doing a bad thing.

Creed takes the man away and he avoids making eye contact with Scalphunter. They don't talk much, any of them but it's probably better that way.

The look in the man's eyes, all four of them haunts him for the rest of the day and he just can't make himself believe Sinister is helping him.

If he is, why don't they ever see any of the people they bring here again and why does he feel so bad when he looks at Creed and the others?

He thinks the others know something he doesn't but they won't say it and he wonders how they found out. If they had to ask or if they were shown.

He knows what Sinister does to them. Maybe not the exact details but he knows it isn't good. He wakes up with bandages and knows he's been stuck with an iv needle and he see's it on the others.

Sometimes Sinister asks him questions about how he's feeling, about training and specific things that freak him out, that make him almost want to try and run.

It's perpetual and the place is starting to eat at him, the endless days where they don't do anything. . . it's too much and the things he's doing. . . he knows he can't pretend he doesn't know for much longer.

He doesn't know exactly but he does know.

The day is coming and it scares him.

He can't pretend forever and the night after they bring the man with red hair and four eyes in he wakes from a dream, sweat burning him and body twisted in the chemical smelling sheets.

He stares at the wall.

His heart his hammering and he has visions of weddings and in-laws in his head. White skin and four scared eyes.

He shakes a little. He's doing something wrong here. He can feel it.

Oh God.

He's burning up and the sheets are wet so he get's up and goes to find some water. He hopes he doesn't see any of the others and his feet take him to the water and then away to hide in the shadows where- if they're up they won't talk to him.

The compound is eerie in the night, there's strip lighting along the floor but the overhead lights are off and his feet echo in the empty hallways despite his efforts to mute them.

He looks around, wondering how you got out of a place like this. It would have to be on a mission and he would have to go far.

He feels a squeezing sensation in his chest and looks up to see the hallway he's avoided.

It's identical to the one behind him.

He slowly takes a step into it, feet soft in the darkness now that he's here. Now that he's afraid.

If he's been down here it's not in his waking hours and he tries not to think about what Sinister would keep hidden.

The stuff he doesn't hide is bad enough.

The hall seems to stretch forever and he considers turning back but he's already this far and the terror is mounting inside of him. The terror and the curiosity. . .

He has to know so he walks on.

He walks on and on and on as the hall goes on and on and on, impossibly long even but maybe that's just his frantic heart beating.

The hall turns abruptly and there's just a door.

Just a plain, black door with a handle.

He stares at it numbly.

Walking down a hallway is one thing but opening a door is snooping and he thinks about turning back as he reaches for the handle.

It isn't locked.

He opens the door and feels something cold and unpleasant jerk through his body. There are people in here.

Dying people and mutants and. . . he can see red hair and white skin in a cage. They're all in cages, cells lining the walls. Mutants. . . mutants he's helped bring here.

They look at him dimly, no hope or emotion.

He stares back in horror.

They're weak, they're dying.

It's a room full of dying people and he doesn't know what to do because he can't save them. They're all weak and he's one person and as soon as he tries the others will come and they'll all be dead.

"Je suis désolé mes amis." He whispers, blinking near tears.

They don't respond. Most of them look too far gone anyway and he squeezes the lever behind him, wondering now if he had been supposed to see all of this. If maybe it was all some sick game Sinister was playing with him.

The door had been unlocked.

"I'm sorry." He whispers again, backing out in shame.

He has to get out of here. Whatever is happening and he still doesn't really understand. . . he has to get out of here or he'll be in one of those cages. He just knows it and so he goes back to bed and curls up.

They have to go and talk to a colony of mutants in a few days. They live in the sewers and he think's that sounds like it will at least be peaceful. A whole colony won't be something the Marauders try to take on.

Still, he'll try to get away soon if he can. He has to now because whatever. . . whatever Sinister does to him and the others it won't be good.

The cages and eyes haunt him. When he finally finds sleep again he dreams of weddings behind bars and Julien is there, right along side Sinister and there are four, terrified eyes screaming at him for help.

He won't have good dreams again for a very long while and the truth is that it will get much worse for him before it get's better.

Remy made a deal with the devil and it turned out there was interest after all.

[captainpikeswoman]

Oooh maybe having a thing for Captain Jean-Luc Picard’s voice would be fantastic! He has such a soothing to e of voice and yet he can still sound so commanding it’s sexy!!

He really does have a lovely voice! Hope you like it! (Sorry I could resist this gif though 😂)

Having a thing for Captain Picard’s voice would include:

•the first thing you notice about the illustrious Captain of the USS Enterprise is his voice. Many people notice his physical form first, but not you- it’s his voice. And that does in part come from the fact that for the majority of the time during your shifts he’s just a voice played over the computer.

•working in your department you have an important job, but it’s not like Engineering or Medical- the job that you and your colleagues do often go without crisis, without problems and without a lot of special attention. But it is of course essential.

•so you get to have weekly conference chats with the Captain via the computer, so that he can keep working without interruption. And oh how you look forwards to those meetings! To listen to his voice- no matter how standard the question and answers may be, is some sort of treat!

•and then one day you make a startling, exciting, pertinent discovery! And you’re summoned to the bridge to meet the Captain and deliver the news in person! You’re buzzing for the entire journey and as the Captain invites you to sit and explain everything in his Ready Room you’re a little over-awed. But Riker and Deanna are there too, and you flawlessly deliver the exciting information.

•Captain Picard is very impressed! He starts a speech about how much he values the underrated hard work of you and your whole department- you hang onto every word, eagerly lapping it up and beaming under his praise. You don’t even notice Deanna smirking to herself, she could feel the very powerful enjoyment the Captain was providing you!

•after that Captain Picard insists on meetings happening in person weekly, and it’s the highlight of every week for you! To get twenty minutes of Picard time entirely uninterrupted!

•and then one night you’re in Ten-Forwards as a poetry recital is underway. You’re spellbound when after a rather lengthy recital by Data, Captain Picard gets up and starts to recite some of Shakespeare’s sonnets. It’s like watching magic unfold before you! You find yourself a little dewy eyed as he finishes and you applaud louder than anyone else! He sends you a small smile.

•and then Q had to intervene. He spies on the Captain often enough, so he knows all about your little crush on the man. He finds it pathetic, and yet he owes Picard something special, so he meddles- he’s trying to help. Q locks you and Picard in a very small, very hot room together! You can’t help but panic as the room grows hot, you have to strip down, and when the room seems to start shrinking you burst into tears! It’s not the Captains arms wrapping around you that pulls you out of your fears and tears- no, it’s when he starts soothing you. He begins to sing little French nursery rhymes and you’re almost instantly soothed. Captain Picard is very confused at how quickly you settle, but he doesn’t stop.

•you do eventually get out of the room- Q’s meddling has had all of no impact on the relationship. Which naturally, infuriates the God like entity.

•but that wouldn’t be true. You and Picard are closer now, when you talk it’s not only about work- but about feelings and interests and more!

•which is good, and yet terrible too! You’re completely smitten by the man, and people have started to notice. Deanna, Worf, Riker and even Data have all spotted the reliable and repetitive reaction you have when you hear Picard’s voice. You go all soppy and submissive, you have to hear him out.

•but Picard doesn’t realise quickly or easily. It’s not until you lock horns with Lwaxana Troi when she begins to interrupt an important speech being delivered by the good Captain that he starts to slowly put two and two together- Lwaxana hadn’t done anything wrong really, but the way you berated her! It was like you were scolding a small child. (Secretly he enjoyed it.)

•he eventually works out (after an embarrassingly long time) that you have a thing for his voice, and it causes him a little embarrassment but a great deal of pride too! He likes that you like his voice.

•and that’s when he makes the decision to invite you for dinner…he intends to turn off the Universal Translator and let you hear him matter away in his native French like you’ve asked to experience.

[to-boldly-nope]

Being Married to Picard- Jean-Luc Picard x Reader

Plot: {Requested by the one and only @groovy-lady} Can I please request some more Jean-Luc Picard x Reader cuteness: maybe what being married to Jean-Luc would be like?

Words: >635

A/N: I sat this up like a headcanon type post and like I believe that this is the fastest imagine I cranked out lmaoo. Also like Picard is now starting to grow on me

•First things first, tea parties

• well you like to call them tea parties and Jean-Luc kinda finds it ridiculous but he just simply can't tell you that he doesn't like it because you get so happy

• But all you do is sit and drink tea while discussing your day.

• He always finds a night to take you to a Paris Cafe on the Holodeck every week

• The night involves flowers, French cuisine, wine, and ends with a dance

• That's how you spent your honeymoon

• He's not affectionate in person and very private so the crew went nuts went they found out that the two of you were married

•Going to Paris on shore leaves because a) you adore Paris, b) you enjoy Jean-Luc telling you childhood stories, and c) it's the rare time affection is shown in public

•Since affection isn't really a public display for him, when you're behind closed doors then he gets really affectionate

•Like really really affectionate

•Not that you don't mind it, you love it actually

•And when you think that he couldn't get any more affectionate, when he comes back from a mission he will NOT leave your side

•Of course, you're the same way because you've heard stories of away missions and how dangerous they could be.

•You always end up scolding him if he gets hurt and won't let Beverly tend to his wounds, even though they are mostly minor scrapes and bruises

•Pet names are: mon amour, darling, my love, dearest

•Listen, once he let a pet name slip.

•You had to get some papers signed and when he finished signing them you thanked him and he, absent-mindedly, said "You're welcome, mon amour."

• You laughed it off as you walked over to the Turbolift

• If you don't like to read that much, Jean-Luc would read to you.

• You tried to read something back to him once but it was Latin but he thought it was cute

• Places where he likes to kiss you: lips, cheek, nose

• Places where you like to kiss him: lips, nose, forehead

• You like to leave him little notes around his quarters and he puts them in his books :)

• During the night shift, sometimes you'd take Riker's chair and sit with your husband because you know that it gets lonely late at night

• Even though he denies it, he's stubborn especially if crew are around

• it's the same way vice versa, sometimes when you work the night shift, Jean-Luc would convince Data that he was fine to stay because he is so used to you next to him and if you weren't then he couldn't sleep

• Nights like that you'd stare at the monitor at all the stars and Jean-Luc would always be reminded about why he fell in love with you and why he married you

• You know that holographic picture that Data has of Tasha? Yeah you both have one and it's your wedding photo

• He's the big spoon >:)

• Sometimes when Jean-Luc reads silently you always sit in his lap and read along with him, even if it is one of his philosophy books and you can't make any sense of it

• ARTIFACT HUNTING

• You always make the marriage jokes

• Example: Picard: *trips*.  You: It's looks like you've fallen for me.  Picard: We're married, darling.

• He taught you how to play the Ressikan flute and so whenever Ten-Forward holds concerts you both play a duet

• He gives you little artifacts because "this reminded me of you, dearest, and I know how much you adore small, shiny things."

• GOING ON DIXON HILL ADVENTURES WITH HIM

• He's always astounded by you in time period clothing because you pull it off so well

•In that one time traveling episode about Data when you walked out in that dress from the 1800s his heart went boom (hehe song reference)

• "I love you"s aren't rare but they're not frequent but when Jean-Luc says it, he really does mean it

• And you always say it back with a kiss no matter the situation

[fruitoftheweek]

Little Cherry Book:

Chapter 5: Matching Memories

Chapter 1 Here / Chapter 2 Here / Chapter 3 Here / Chapter 4

Hey guys! Again sorry for the wait! Both my computer and my work schedule have been ass and every time I thought I was going to have free time, I absolutely did not. I was really looking forward to writing this chapter after all the appreciation I got from the last chapter and I am so excited to enduldge you with this 7,356 word chapter. I am also working on a fluffier oneshot that should come out in the next couple days which I am so excited to write! I hope you guys really like this chapter! Love you guys and thank you for 120 Followers!

Pairing: Spencer Reid X reader

Chapter Plot: After the previous nights' escapades, you and Spencer decide to talk about boundaries as your team questions your budding relationship

Series TW: 18+, smut, degradation, piercing, choking, knife play, mommy/daddy kinks, spanking, exhibitionism, Will update as time goes on

Chapter TW: smut, mommy kink, having body piercings, choking, slapping, Oral Sex (male and female receiving), Handjob, fingering, pleading, spanking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, aftercare, language, non-intentional self-harm (hard to explain), PDA, degradation, smut smut smut.

Word Count: 7,356

Spencer loved to match everything but his socks. You found that out the morning after your late-night escapades. You weren't sure if your alarm hadn't gone off or if you two had just slept through it but you two were running late and the plane was leaving in 40 minutes with a 30-minute drive to the airport. The actual thing that had woken you up was Morgan banging on the door, notifying you that he had dropped off Spencers go-bag.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" he shouted as he bumped his elbow on the table, hurriedly trying to get his socks on. You peeked around the door frame of the bathroom, checking on him to make sure he was ok as you shoved your toiletries into your bag. You watched, curiously as he stopped what he was doing and purposefully banged his other elbow on the same table. You made a mental note to ask him about it later, but right now, you had to go.

Along the way, you had noticed small habits that Spencer had to keep himself "matching." Once you saw it once, you couldn't help noticing it. How he brushed his teeth the same number of times on each side of his mouth. How he had to eat at least two peanuts at a time so that he could match the chewing on either side of his mouth. These were all harmless, but you worried when he bumped his right temple on the window of the cab as it went over a pothole, and you watched as he proceeded to turn his head and bump the other side. Most of the morning had been held in comfortable silence as you reveled in the afterglow of the previous night. So when you silently reached up to his head and brought it down to your shoulder, Spencer didn't mind. You made sure to gently rub his temple to apply even pressure to make sure his sides matched, a caring gesture that did not go unnoticed.

Luckily you two had made it to the jet on time, only catching a couple of questioning glances from Morgan and Elle as you rushed on, red-faced. You hurriedly sat next to each other as the plane took off, Spencer shoving both of your go-bags in the upper compartment as you held his book. He had brought Graziella, and had already read it 4 times; you, unfortunately, had brought nothing as it was your first trial case. He sat down, and you handed him his book, his fingers tentatively brushed yours in a silent question. Neither of you had fully discussed your relationship this morning in the rush and you could tell he was nervous to talk to you about it. As he pulled away, you captured his wrist before he could go too far, gently drawing a small heart into the inside of his wrist with your finger as you looked up into his eyes. He smiled slightly, understanding that you would talk about it when you had reached home.

This small gesture hadn't gone unnoticed as Morgan watched you from the other side of the jet. He stocked his way up to you with a shark grin on his lips as he smelled blood in the water. "So, You two woke up late huh? How come you never made it back to our room last night, pretty boy?" He mused, enjoying the light pink tinge resting on Spencer's cheeks. "You were the one who took both of our room keys and wouldn't let me in! And- and she was nice enough to let me sleep in her room even though it was a one-person room." He retorted, knowing Morgan's implications. "Woah, chill, Reid. I was just asking some questions." Morgan replied, feigning innocence. "Yeah, I took Reid's virginity last night. How could you tell?" You stated matter of factly, earning a shocked squeak from Reid, and spluttered out laughter from Morgan. "That's what you want to hear right? C'mon Spencer, he’s just giving us a hard time because he wasn't invited to our movie marathon last night." You lied, shooting a joking wink to Spencer, hoping he would get the drift and go along with the story. "Hey, we didn't- yEAh he wouldn't get the nuance of 'Une Femme est Une Femme' and the directorial skills of Jean-Luc Godard." He said, catching on when you pinched the soft spot under his ribs. Morgan just rolled his eyes, frustrated at not getting what he wanted before sulking back to his seat.

You smiled up at Spencer before saying, "Good boy," just loud enough for only the two of you to hear. It was the first time you had alluded to your escapades that yestereve and you both felt a breath of fresh air as the slight tension was lifted off of your backs. Spencer was flustered in multiple ways; he loved the way you praised him, and he now believed you felt regrets about your exchange.

He felt electricity crackling in every gentle secret touch of yours that he had the luxury of experiencing that day; all he could think about was how you had touched him and how your skin felt on his. You had him wrapped all-around your finger, and he couldn't be happier. All he wanted to do was service you and please you, even in non-sexual ways, which he was happy to indulge in as he watched you staring out the window. Your fingers were discreetly tracing small drawings on his knee cap as you watched the clouds pass by. The motion caused him a great distraction from his book, and all he could do was watch your finger. Even though you weren't paying any attention to the motion of your fingers, Spencer could still envision the lines you created carving into his skin. Sometimes a little face, sometimes an abstract geometric rhombus, and his favorite, a heart with puffy humps and a pointy end. Every time you drew it, he became hyper-aware of the gentle flush coloring your cheeks as you looked out the window, sending him a secret message.

He quietly cleared his throat, as to not disturb the others; most of which had chosen to indulge in a little extra sleep to make up for their early morning. It had broken you from your entranced gaze out the window and you looked over at him smiling. "D-Did you bring anything to do on the plane?" Spencer asked as you continued your drawings on his leg. "Surprisingly, that was the one thing I forgot. I was so worried about making sure I was well briefed on the case that I forgot all about the flight." You said, smiling sleepily. He couldn't help but think about how beautiful you were at that moment. The gentle sunrise behind you in the window illuminated the apples of your cheeks and the highlights in your hair, which was still messy from sleeping so soon after your shower. Your eyes were puffy except for the sockets, which were slightly sunken in from lack of sleep, and you were fresh-faced, small blemishes now in the open, but all Spencer could think was that you reminded him of the fresh air of spring in the morning after a storm. He shook himself from his trance as you began to turn back towards the window. "You know, if you would like, I can read to you." He said shyly. "I know you read faster in your head, don't feel like you have to read to me because I was silly and forgot to bring a book." You said, smiling at his gesture. "N-No, I want to read to you. My mom always used to read out loud to me when I was little when she would wake up early." He said, adding waveringly, "And... and I would like to read to you, not because you didn't bring anything, but because I think you would like this book." You smiled up at him, lifting the fingers you had been swirling on his leg to your lips before gently kissing them, pressing them to his cheekbone, and returning them to their reserved spot on his leg. He took that as a green light to read aloud.

You watched as he closed the page he had been reading to flip to the beginning. You knew he remembered what page he was on but his choice to start you from the beginning melted your heart. He really wanted you to appreciate this story so you were going to give 110% of your attention to the words flowing out of his mouth.

"Ok, this book is Graziella by Alphonse de Lamartine. I arrived at Naples on the first of April. A few days later, I was joined by a young man of about my own age, to whom I had attached myself at college with the friendship of a brother." He began as you listened intently, enjoying the gentle atmosphere created by the soft hum of the jet and snores of your colleagues. Spencer continued reading aloud to you on autopilot as he focused on the drawings of your fingers, now all turned to hearts.

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

The problem with taking a morning jet home was that you would have to go straight to the office to finish your paperwork before finally being able to rest in your own bed. You all trudged out of the car and into the office in varying states of awakeness, dreading the hours of work to come.

"Welcome back, you guys!" Garcia said, miscalculating the tone in the room, earning her a couple nods and grunts in response.

"Hey, I'm going to my friend's apartment tonight, and she lives by you. Since you take the train home and I'm going that way, do you want a ride?" You said to Spencer, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible. For a Genius and a Profiler, he sure was bad at picking up clues and hints. You weren't really going to see your friend, you just wanted some alone time with him to straighten things out, but he obviously didn't understand. "I mean if it's on the way, that would be nice. Thank you Y/L- Agent Y/L/N." He said, nearly forgetting to call you Agent in front of the others. You smiled and headed back to your seat begrudgingly, seeing the mountains of paperwork.

It was kind of sweet how oblivious he was. You were trying to be discreet at work, and you could tell he was trying too. Keyword: trying, as he was failing miserably. You could tell he was trying to be sneaky, but there was nothing sneaky about him following you to the coffee machine every time you needed a refill. He told you it was because he wanted to match and you couldn't help but indulge him. He wanted to match coffee, unfortunately finding out that you did not, in fact, like as much sugar in your coffee as him. You settled for a little bit too sweet and him not enough for the sake of matching. He came to your desk, trying to trick you by asking to borrow a pen, even though you could see his usual green pen in his shirtfront pocket. He was just so cute and just so obvious so you caved, but it was only because you wanted to see the beam on his face knowing there was yet another way you two could match. His boldest move yet was to match sweaters. If you had yours on, he had his on; when you took yours off, he would follow suit. Even though it was very cute, he was being far too bold so after a while, you decided to just keep it on.

Finally, after hours of handwriting reports and witness statements, your cramped hand said a thank you as you signed off your last sheet. You stretched languidly, looking over to Spencer's desk. He had been done for a while but was pretending to be busy so he could wait for you without subliminally pressuring you to hurry. You pulled your go bag and satchel together, getting ready to leave as you watched Spencer hold his bag, waiting for you to make the first move. You clicked your tongue at him as if you were calling a cat, "Let's get going, I don't want to be late to see my friend!" You called over to him as he shot up, padding quickly to catch up to you. "Goodnight guys! Sleep well!" You called to Morgan, Elle, and Garcia, the only ones left in the bullpen. "Ok, now something definitely has to be going on," Elle said as they watched you two leave, Spencer tripping over himself as he got in the elevator behind you.

You two shoved your bags in the back seat and got in the car. As you turned the car, your music started blaring out of the speakers. "Woah! Sorry! I like to drive with the windows down so my music is usually pretty loud." You said as you slammed on the pause button. Spencer was startled but he didn’t mind as he'd just learned new things about you. 1. You like loud music 2. You like the windows down when you drive. 3. You have great taste in music. "That's ok. Just make sure you turn down the volume sometimes, 17% of adults aged 20–69 years have suffered permanent damage to their hearing from noise-induced hearing loss. And that was... certainly loud enough to cause some noise-induced loss. Make sure to take care of yourself." He said and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. His naive sweetness and caring nature had been gnawing at you all day. All you had wanted to do while you were trying to focus on work was kiss him.

You leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Even though you came in slow, you surprised him. Here you were in the Quantico parking lot, boldly kissing him when any of your coworkers could have seen. "Why-why did you do that?" he asked as you pulled away. "I can't?" you asked, pouting slightly, teasing him. "N-No, You can you can, we're just so out in the open, and we haven't talked about anything, so I didn't know how you felt, and you were ignoring me all day." He rushed out as you let out a little laugh at him. "Let's drive, cutie." You said, turning your music back on, this time to a lower volume, as you pulled out of the parking lot and down the street. "First of all sweetness, I wasn't ignoring you all day, I didn't want Morgan to tease you again. You were busy with paperwork and I knew you didn't need him being an asshole to you to make it worse. Second, did you see all the paperwork they had left? There was no way any of them would have been out in the parking lot yet." You said as you smoothly merged onto the highway towards your house.

You were wondering when he was going to notice that he was going in the opposite direction of his house but he was too wrapped up in his thoughts. You glanced over at him before returning your eyes to the road. You cursed yourself for not having an eidetic memory because you would have kept a snapshot of him like that in your mind forever. His hair, once slicked back, now slightly disheveled from running his hands through it as he did his paperwork and the wind from your open windows. The cool summer wind that rosied his cheeks and the tip of his nose as he gazed out the streetlights overhead. Blue, red, green, purple yellow, white; the blinking lights of the city married the sunset hues that danced across his face. Illuminating his beautifully arched nose and his prominent cheekbones, it felt as if the sun was setting just for him and the city was awakening his beauty.

You smiled to yourself as you switched the cd in the cd player for one of your classics. "Hey! You listen to these guys?! You know I was going to see them last year but then we had this case out of town and I had to miss it. That was when they were still playing at that bar by the Speedway that burnt down." Spencer said excitedly. "Really!? You like them too? I haven't seen them yet but I've been listening to them since college. I never had that much money to be spending on tickets for shows beyond small house shows. I can't believe you like them, I always thought you were more of a Debussy or Chopin person." You replied, excited to have something to share. "Yeah I mean I like pretty much every genre but I've been really into their old stuff lately and, surprisingly, also french 70s music." He said matter-of-factly.

Contrarily, he was fibbing. He knew exactly why he had been listening to it. The previous night he had dreamed of the two of you off the shore, in the south of France in spring, reading books across from each other, legs tangled together, on a chez lounge. Jacqueline Taieb played on the radio as you pulled him up to dance. He removed the thoughts from his mind as he realized his predicament. He didn't know if he was allowed to think about you like that. You had been so sweet and caring towards him last night, and you kissed him so sweetly, but he was still unsure of where you stood. He was still lost in thought as you pulled up to your apartment and parked.

"Hey, this isn't my apartment. Is this your friend's place?" He asked, surprised. "No, Sweetheart. I didn't want Morgan to bother us as we were leaving so I made up some excuse. And this is my apartment. If you want to talk about what happened last night, you can come in. Well, I guess you can come in if you don't want to either, but that's beside the point. If you don't want to talk about it or if you just want me to take you home, I can do that right now. It's up to you baby." You said, gently taking his hand in yours. "I-I want to talk about it." He said shyly. "Alright then, my partner in crime. I will welcome you into my abode. We can order some dinner and talk about it. I'm thinking curry, what about you?" you said.

You could sense his nervousness and tried to lighten the mood even though deep down you were pissing yourself. You had never really done this either. You had a couple of one-night stands and short-term relationships, but nothing that lasted that long, and something in you wanted this time to be different. The young doctor was so endearing, and he was the first person who seemed to be interested in making you happy in the relationship, unlike most of your past suitors. You were terrified that you would push him too far or something would change, and that's why it was so important you had a talk and had trust and communication. You held his hand all the way up the stairs and to your apartment, not letting go when you went to open your door. You told yourself it was to make him feel better but you knew it was because you needed to do something with your hands to get them to stop shaking.

"Sorry, it's not the cleanest space ever. I wasn't expecting guests" you said as you began to tidy up random things around the room, mostly mason jars full of water or a stray empty mug. Spencer took note of his surroundings, drinking everything in. He couldn’t remember what he assumed your apartment would look like because as soon as he entered, he couldn't imagine you living anywhere else. It was all the parts of you that he knew and all of the parts he had yet to learn. He knew that you loved reading, so the bookshelves made sense. He knew that you loved music, so the cd player with piles of CDs next to it made sense. He knew you loved movies, so the VHS player and tv with a built-in DVD player and even more stacks of media made sense. But his favorite part was the giant easel positioned by the window with a large canvas on it. "Wow, Y/N! You paint?" he asked as you continued to clean up. "Oh, don't mind that! Sorry I didn't have time to put it away before we left! I'll get it out of your way!" You said, already carrying a basket full of god knows what in your arms. "No, No! Please leave it out. It's beautiful." He said, looking at your brush strokes. "Suit yourself. Let me know if it gets in your way," you said, finishing your cleaning by fluffing the pillows on your couch.

You finished bustling around your apartment and sat down on your couch across from the TV. He slowly made his way over to you, sitting at the opposite end from you, still unsure of your boundaries. You could spot his nerves from a mile away, so you swung your legs up onto the couch and poked him in his side with your feet. "Why are you sitting so far away, Sweety," you said as he looked over at you. You looked just as you did in his dream, soft and comfy in slouchy clothes. He hadn't noticed that you had changed into some comfy pajama pants and a loose pajama top, and now he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that you changed at some point when he was in the room. He knew it was silly. He had already seen you naked, but it all felt like a dream." I'll call and order, and you think about what you want to eat and what you want from me for a bit, ok? I know this great place a couple blocks from here." You said as you pulled out your landline, and dialed the number that you had scrawled on a notepad on your coffee table.

Then, Spencer saw the notepads, notebooks, sticky notes, and other odds and ends that you had all over the house. One on the fridge, one by the easel, one on the tv stand, two on the coffee table. They were all decorated differently for each task, of which he could see two, one titled 'Yummy restaurants' and the other titled 'movies to watch.' He tried to stop his distracting thoughts of how comfortably he fit in your space and how every item embodied you perfectly, all in different ways. When he was finally able to focus, he felt you start absentmindedly kneading your feet on his thigh that was closest to you. He could barely look over at you, finding you unbelievably erotic. He sucked in a breath as your pajama shirt was only buttoned up so much, enticingly drawing his eyes to the swell of your breast that he could see above the collar of your shirt.

You hooked your foot up under his thighs and brought his legs up onto the couch as you continued to order. You tangled your legs together, lifting your right foot to his chest, gently tapping out a rhythm absentmindedly as you talked. You broke through Spencer's entrancement, asking "What do you want to eat?" "Um... Whatever you're getting." He responded, as he still hadn't even begun to look at the menu. "Yeah! Then for the second order, can I get the same thing but make it mild." You said, poking your tongue out at him teasingly before finishing your order.

You two walked to pick up your food, talking about nothing in particular. You didn't want to talk about the elephant in the room until you got back, so you filled the space with meaningless conversation that instantly stopped as you entered the house. It was silent as you got forks ready, spying Spencer sitting rigidly straight on the couch, waiting for you.

"You know, you were so bold in the office today that I didn't expect you to be this shy when we got here. We don't have to talk about anything if you don't want to, sweet-" "I do, I really do." He said, cutting you off. "Ok! That's great. Well, I'm going to start off by saying that any relationship like this, whatever you want that to be, depends on strong trust and communication. That goes beyond the bedroom. Being on the team I trust you with my life. I know I'm new so I understand if you don't trust me yet but I just wanted to set that baseline with you. I'm going to be 1000% truthful with you and I'm going to start by saying this. I don't regret anything that we did last night. I loved what we did last night and I really like doing this with you. I want to explore with you if you would be so gracious as to let me. I find you very interesting, and I would like to be friends or more depending on what you want as we continue our rendezvous." You said as you grasped his hands, willing him to look into your eyes. He let out a sigh of relief. "I really liked what we did yesterday too. I was kind of worried that you regretted it or something. I'm really really new to everything, but I feel comfortable exploring if it's you. You made me feel really safe last night and I appreciate that a lot. I find you really beautiful and sexy and intriguing and I would like to be friends and maybe more with you now. I don't know if I'm allowed to say this... but I want to." He said, gaining some confidence. "You are allowed to say whatever you want, baby. That's why we have open communication. Everything is to make sure you are feeling as good and safe as possible," you said, rubbing his hand. " You should feel safe and good too. I know you are more experienced than me, but you deserve to be safe too." He said gently before continuing. "I was wondering if... if I could request that this be monogamous. I get really upset thinking about you with someone else." He said, and you could feel the shaking in his hands as he anticipated your reply. "Of course, sweetheart. I was hoping you would ask. Maybe I'm a little selfish, but I don't like to share my things. They're mine for a reason." You said before planting a gentle kiss on his cheek, earning a smile from him. "But I think, for now, I would like to be friends and see how it goes from there while we... explore," Spencer said. You nod and smile in agreement.

"Alright, so Spencer, tell me what you're interested in, sexually. What do you think about when you jerk off? What did you think about when you read my book?" You asked nonchalantly, as you picked up your curry and rice, taking a bite as if you'd just asked him about the weather. "w-well, I think about a lot of things." He sputtered out. "Just give me a little list I can work off." You said in between bites. "Um, I like seeing you naked. I like it when we match because it feels like we have a deep connection. I like h-how you touched me yesterday. I want you to touch me more." He said shyly, hiding his face behind his cup of water. "And the other two questions?" You prodded, watching as the bulge grew in his pants. "Um, what do I think of when I jerk off? Oh my god, I can't believe I'm saying this," He blushed before continuing. "I think about how it would feel to have your mouth wrapped around my cock. I think about you calling me a naughty boy. I think about you praising me. I think about your book and how there's so much more that I have to read. I think about you not wearing panties at work. And I think even more about pulling you into the storage closet, lifting up your skirt, and fucking you while everyone is working. I think about your piercings, and I think about your piercing chapter."

"What did you think of that chapter by the way? You ran off to the bathroom pretty quick. What were you thinking of doing to me, naughty boy?" you said, setting your food down on the table, leaning towards him, hands planted on his thighs. "Tell the truth, I can sniff out a liar from a mile away," You said, squeezing into his thighs. He bucked up towards you, searching for friction in any way he could." f-fuck. I read the chapter when I was touching myself. I thought about how you had pointed at my boner, and I thought about how I wanted you to make fun of me, and smack me, and punish me for being naughty." he said hurriedly, hoping his answer would satiate you. "Nuh-uh! Come on, tell me the whole truth," you said and smacked his thigh. He yelped as your hand came down, leaving him with a dull sting. "Ok! But it's embarrassing so don't laugh... I thought about you cockwarming me while I pierced your tongue, and how you would drool, and how you would squeeze around me. I thought about how I wanted to mark you and make you mine." He said, covering his eyes, hiding from his shame and how it made his cock stir in his pants. "You naughty, naughty boy, Spencer Reid. I thought you were innocent but here you are with your hand on your cock, at work, thinking about my pussy and my tongue and my spit, and it made you cum. What a rascal!" you said, watching for a reaction in his pants.

You pried his arm from his eyes, so he was forced to look at your smirk. His face and neck were a deep pink, and his lips were as pillowy and soft as a rose petal from biting his them. You couldn't help yourself as you pounced on him. You knew this was supposed to be just a talk about boundaries, but there was an undeniable electricity in the air that had been lingering from the moment you had woken up. He looked so fucked out, even though you hadn’t touched him yet and part of you wanted to absolutely ruin him that night. "Remember your colors, baby. What are you feeling?" You said, now perched in his lap. "Green, green. P-Please touch me." As he said it, you ground down on him. While you were in your comfortable clothes, he was still in his tight corduroys and button-down, sweater long gone somewhere else in the apartment. "Have you ever heard of something called edging?" You asked, and he nodded excitedly. "What about overstimulation?" You said, and he nodded quickly again. "What do you think about them?" He nodded, and you smacked him, not as hard as you would usually go, but enough to leave a sting. "Use your words, naughty boy." You said, capturing his jaw and tilting his face up to meet yours. "Yes, please. I'm so green. I have been wanting you to do this, please." He shot out through squished cheeks, looking at you with the most hungry eyes you have ever seen. His warm hazel eyes, now shiny and black with desire.

You got up off of him, and he whined, missing the warmth of your body on his. You grabbed him by the back of his neck like he was a naughty kitten, and pulled him down the hall and into your bedroom. Before he could take in your room, you pushed him back on the bed. "Strip." You commanded, and your scent overwhelmed him. Your daily aroma that intoxicated him was ten times weaker than the pure pheromones that blanketed your room. Spencer mused that your room must have been built to have sex in. Your bedside tables were adorned with candles, incense, your daily jewelry, and a pair of your panties. You had a red canopy on your four-poster bed that draped your room in a soft red glow.

Your figure was obscured by the canopy as you moved some items around your room. Spencer was lost in your scent, the idea of finally being in your room, and possibly a little lost staring at the panties on your table, making him move too slow for your liking. You parted the fabric and crawled up the bed to him. "Spencer Walter Reid, if you don't strip now, you're going to get a spanking. You have been such a naughty boy today. I thought you were going to be a good boy for mommy but I guess you want to get punished." You said as you slinked back off the bed. "I'm going to count down from 10 and if you aren't naked by the time I reach 0, you are getting spanked. Understood?" You said, and he squeaked out and "Understood!" "10... " Who knew it took so long to unbutton a dress shirt? "9... " Now, his hands were stuck in his sleeves. "8..." Shirt off. "7..." Is his belt broken, or is he shaking too much? "6..." Belt undone but not off. "5..." Pants, ok. "4..." Fuck, his shoes are stuck on. "3... 2... 1... 0. STOP NOW"

You parted the curtain, smirking down at him. "I think I said naked, not underwear on." You said, looking down at him. "You didn't give me enough time!" He whined but you were already flipping him onto your lap with his ass perched in the air. "Color?" You asked, earning his eager response of "Green, so green." You pulled his underwear off and hung it on the corner of your side table, right next to your own panties. The sight was oddly domestic, making him even harder as he tried to rut into your leg. Your hand came down hard on his ass and he bucked into you moaning in shock. "You naughty boy, pathetically rubbing on me. Does my thigh feel good baby?" you asked, and he nodded. Your hand came down hard on his other cheek "How many times do I have to tell you? Use. Your. Words." Punctuating your last three words with three more smacks to his ass, gently rubbing the red skin as he cried out. "Yes, mommy! Your thigh feels so good! Thank you so much!" he said as he ground himself down on you pitifully. "Why is mommy punishing you, sweetheart?" you said, sweetening your tone. " Because I didn't get dressed?" He asked. "Hm, if you were really sorry, you would know what you were sorry for. What are you being punished for? One more chance." You said, smoothing over the plains of his ass. "For being a naughty boy who doesn't listen and rubs his cock on mommy too much." He said. "So close, baby!" You said as you brought down one last smack to his ass as his cock leaked precum all over your legs. "You were getting punished because you don't listen and because you were being really naughty at work, sweetheart. But you took punishment so well, so you deserve a treat." You said as you flipped him over, making sure he was laying in a comfortable place on the bed.

"C-can we match?" He said, pulling on your sweater. You smiled down at him sweetly as you stripped, taking your time to let him gaze over the planes of your body. When you returned, you sat high up on his stomach, making sure he couldn't get any friction against you as you kissed him softly. He was still a little clunky when it came to kissing but when you took it slow, it helped him warm up to your motions until you two were completely in sync.

"Alright, so I'm going to do some new things. Let me know at any time if you aren't comfortable or you want me to stop." You said, and you turned so you were sitting on his chest, looking down at his cock, as he got a wonderful view of your ass and the dimples in your back as your muscles flexed. You collected some spit in your mouth and let it drip down slowly onto the head of his already overly excited cock. He hissed as your finger swirled in the spit that pooled at the base of his cock as you wet your hand before grasping his length. Even though he had felt this exact same thing yesterday, he could never get over the sensation of your hand squeezing around him, circling his cock, and playing with the tip with your thumb. You spit into your other hand and wrapped both hands around his length, working them up and down his shaft, gently twisting and squeezing. The best part was that he couldn’t see anything you were doing. It was like he was blindfolded, stomach muscles tensing in anticipation of your touch.

"Fuck baby I'm close." And that was when you stopped. right as he was about to cum, you squeezed down hard at the base of his cock. "You don't cum until I do." You said, scooting your core back so that it was a couple tantalizing inches away from his face. "Really? You'll let me eat you out? For real?" He asked, mind blown at the idea of eating you out. "I was hoping you would." You replied, waiting for him to make a decision. He hooked your arms around your thighs and pulled you into him so hard, you were worried he broke his nose at first. 'I need a man who eats pussy like it's the only way to quench his thirst' rung out in his head. That's what you had written in your journal titled "Male needs" and he wanted to be a Male that you needed, so that's what he did. He flattened his tongue as he licked a long stripe up your folds, and back down to your clit, latching on hungrily, alternating between sucking hard and twirling his tongue on it. "H-Holy shit Spencer." You moaned, and you knew you wouldn't last long. Even though you wouldn’t admit it, you were soaking wet just from teasing and punishing him. That, coupled with how sweet his tongue was on your core, and you were done for. You certainly had never had a man eat you out like this, much less a virgin. "Shit baby, you're so good? How did you get so good?" You asked incredulously, as he reached his hand back around and inserted a finger between your folds, giving his mouth a short break. "I read the literature and from what I saw, the g spot should be about here." He said before curling his fingers inside of you, brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves, causing you to moan deeply. His smirking mouth found its way back to your clit as he added another finger, working your g spot with feverish strokes.

"Fuck, baby! I'm cumming!" You shouted and right as you were reaching your peak, he stopped everything. "What the fuck are you doing!?" You yelped at him, your mounting peak now decrescendoing before ever hitting the climax. "I thought we were matching. You're edging me, I'm edging you." He said innocently, but you could hear his smirk tinging his words. "You just want to be punished huh?" You said and squeezed down on his base as you kissed the tip of his cock. "Naughty boys don't get proper head. When you make me cum, then I'll actually suck your cock. Got it?" You asked as he bucked his hips"Yes." He replied fervently.

This was his first-ever experience getting head, so of course, you were going to give him a good time. He would just have to wait. You held down at the base of his aching cock as you lazily sucked and licked the head. Not even close to the usual effort you would put in, but it was enough to make his legs shake and finger you faster. His mouth was too busy panting and whining to eat you out but you were fine with that because the way he was curling his fingers was creating a knot in your stomach and you could feel your impending release. "Fuck baby I'm cumming. Let me cum this time." You said and he reattached his mouth to your clit, sucking hard as he used all of his willpower to keep himself from cumming. And just like that, you're cumming all down his face and fingers as you shake but he keeps going, this time with more enthusiasm, riding you through your orgasm and overstimulating you. You eagerly take him into your mouth all the way, sucking hard, lathering his length with your spit, and in two seconds he is cumming hard down your throat. "Mommy I'm cumming" He said a little too late as you had already swallowed around him.

You were both so caught in the afterglow that you just kept going. Aftershock spurts of cum kept shooting down your throat but you kept sucking. You wanted him needy and wrecked under you. "Oh my god! ah! AH!" He said, shaking as you keep sucking him down. He keeps finger fucking you as if he is possessed. You are both riding your highs and are so overstimulated that in no more than a minute you are both cumming all over again as sobs wrack your bodies.

You flop down next to Spencer and kiss his cheek tentatively, knowing most men don't kiss after head. Spencer leans up, kissing you passionately, tangling his tongue in yours, tasting your release on each other's tongues. "Flip over baby," You said as he rolled over. You pulled out your lotion from your bedside table, gently warming up a small amount in your hands before spreading it on his butt. "I don't know about you, but I'm way too tired to take a shower tonight. I'm just going to put our leftovers in the fridge and brush my teeth. I have some spare toothbrushes if you would like to borrow one, and some pajamas." You said to a very sleepy Spencer. He didn’t even say anything, he just grumbled and got up, leaning on you.

He helped you clean up, both still naked, enjoying the domesticity of just walking around completely vulnerable together. You needed to brush his teeth for him as he sat on the toilet lid and you couldn’t help but think he looked like a little baby, barely clinging to the little energy it had before a nap. You got him up and back in bed, looking down at his naked form, now noticing the gentle matching bruises on either side of his body. “I know you like to match but take care of yourself. Don’t bang yourself up so much. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You said as you picked his clothes off of the floor. You reached down for your pajamas but before you could get them back on or pull him into his, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down on top of him."I’ll try to stop. Only for you, and only because you asked so nicely. Right now, I’m too sleepy, let's sleep naked. Night night." He mumbled into the crook of your neck. Warmth enveloped your body at his words, “only for you.” Somehow that was all it took to finally give in to sleep's welcoming grasp, reveling in the warmth shared between your skin.

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Chapter 1 Here / Chapter 2 Here / Chapter 3 Here / Chapter 4

And there we go, that's chapter five! Make sure to give me any comments, criticisms, or ways to better the plot. I hope you guys liked this chapter. I tried to balance out the sweet and spicy aspects of this one. I hope you guys have a great night!

Tag List: @spencer-reids-slut @ya-triedit @reidstoychest @flipperpenguins @thatsonezesty13 @jbbarnes-loki @big-galaxy-chaos @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @spencersmagic @uhuhuh @living-for-romance @aharvey979 @xoxo-jnh-xoxo @marrymespencerrei @crypticcorvidinacottage , @ladydragoneye , @stjoaninthewildwest

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Breakable Heaven (pt. IV) - p.l. dubois

part I part II part III

Oh my gosh, I seriously can’t believe this little series has come to an end. I’m so so happy with how it’s turned out, and want to thank anyone who’s stuck with Laurel and Pierre-Luc throughout this month. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever done, and it’s yours to enjoy now. Please please let me know what you think of this part, what you think about the series - getting anon comments is amazing, my inbox is always open, and I LOVE reading tags. Reblog if you like what I’m putting out, it helps me know that!

Warning: Smut (It’s light, but it’s there, so no one under 18 please!)

Part IV (7.8k)

September 23 (thurs)

Laurel was running through the Toronto airport, her carry-on bag bouncing on the tile behind her as she frantically searched for her gate. Thank God Air Canada domestic flew from the international terminal; her layover was only an hour and ten minutes and even more time had been shaved off by a departure delay in Montréal. She had forgotten that flights from Toronto cleared U.S. Customs in Canada, and if she hadn’t been able to skip the line and slap her American passport on a kiosk reader she would have almost certainly missed her connection. 

No matter how many times Laurel had tried to insist on an economy ticket when she and Pierre were booking flights for her visits, he refused to cave. “They don’t include a checked bag in economy, but they do if you fly business,” he had said, shrugging, with a small smile on his face. “Baggage fees alone would make it pretty much a wash.” Laurel doubted that, and she doubted that she’d need a checked bag for a four-day trip, but her husband had made it clear that he wasn’t budging. 

So needless to say, she was more than a little bit out of breath as she finally arrived at Gate F66, which was conveniently almost as far away from her arrival gate as humanly possible while still being in the same terminal. She handed her boarding pass and passport to the gate agent, smiling apologetically as she hurried down the jetbridge. It was barely past noon, but there was nothing in the world Laurel wanted more than to sleep. Maintaining a full-time schedule at the hospital while also trying to organize a trip to Columbus that lasted more than two days meant she had to switch shifts. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue; that week, however, the only open slot was the 12-hour overnight shift on Wednesday. Which meant that she’d been awake for some twenty hours straight, but almost all of that had been on her feet at work, or walking from the parking lot to the check-in counter in Montréal, or running through the halls of Pearson Airport in Toronto. She took her seat, half-listened to the safety briefing, and passed out as soon as her head hit the headrest. 

Much to her chagrin, the flight itself was only just over an hour, and she was really only able to get in a generous nap before their descent into Ohio. Sitting in the second row, she exited the plane in record time, flicking her phone off of airplane mode and waiting for a text from Pierre-Luc. At least she didn’t have to go through TSA again. He wrote back in record time, letting her know he’d be in his car at the curb right outside the terminal. She waited at baggage claim, grabbing her forest green suitcase; the same one she had when she’d moved to Toronto for university, fresh-faced and 18 and so, so unaware of what the world had in store for her. If only she could see herself now. Laurel ran her thumb along the side handle for a moment, pulling at a loose thread, before hefting it onto the floor and turning towards the sliding exit doors. 

As promised, Pierre was waiting right outside the door, flashing her a bright smile and throwing the driver’s side door open as soon as he saw her. “Welcome to Columbus, babe!” he exclaimed, wrapping Laurel into a deep hug and kissing her on the cheek. 

She laughed as the trunk popped open, each of them grabbing a suitcase. “It’s a little bit funny, don’t you think? That I’ve lived in the Midwest for almost my whole life and the first time I go to Ohio it’s because I’m living in Canada?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” Pierre said, holding his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart. “I’m really happy you were able to come, though, Laurel. I got used to having you around.” His face was softer now, looking over at Laurel with an expression that wasn’t quite placable but seemed like it was somehow communicating so much in a single glance. 

“Me too,” Laurel replied. The ride to Pierre’s Columbus apartment took just over ten minutes, and Laurel was in the door, petting the dogs, before the clock struck 3:00. 

Pierre approached her from behind, his hands on her shoulders as he leaned around to kiss her on the cheek. “You want to take a nap?” he asked. “We’ve got that thing with the team at 7, and I know you’re probably running on fumes right now.” 

Laurel nodded, giving him a weary smile, dropping her bag on the floor of the master bedroom with an all-too-satisfying thump. “Nap sounds good.” 

---

The nap was good, so good, and Laurel woke up at half past 6 feeling like she’d just had the best sleep of her life. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room to see Pierre with his back towards her, buttoning up his shirt. He turned around, catching her eye, and grinned. “You like the view?” he asked, gesturing to his half-naked torso. 

Laurel rolled her eyes, pulling the sheets up to poorly conceal her embarrassment at being caught. “And if I do?”

She heard a loud laugh, peeking her head out from under. “I’d say my wife has every right to appreciate it.” He walked around the bed while fastening the last few buttons, holding his hand out for Laurel to take. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we’re going to have to get going in fifteen minutes or so. I was told that ‘we’ve waited this long to meet her, the least you could do is get your damn wife to the party in time,’” he said, adding air quotes for emphasis. 

Laurel nodded, tossing back the covers and walking over to her suitcase, intending to rifle through the stacks of clothes to find something for the night’s festivities. Instead, she was greeted by an empty bag. She wheeled around to look at Pierre, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at her suitcase. “I unpacked your stuff,” he said, nodding over towards the spare dresser. “It’s in there. I’m sorry if that seems weird and I won’t do it again if you feel like that was pushing your boundaries, but I know for me when I’m on roadies I like to unpack, even if it’s just one night. Makes it feel more like home.”

Laurel was too overcome with how sweet the gesture was, small as it may have been, to realize that that meant he had touched four days worth of bras and underwear. It shouldn’t have bothered him anyways, and if he hadn’t said anything about it, it clearly hadn’t. So instead, she pulled him into a warm hug, standing on her tiptoes to bury her face in the crook of his neck. “Thank you, P. One less thing I have to do.” 

“You do still have to actually get dressed, though,” he added, giving her sleepwear an appreciative once-over. “Unless you’re planning on wearing that.” 

She let out a giggle. “As much as I love wearing a massive Cloquet High Lumberjacks t-shirt and no pants, somehow I don’t think that’s the move,” she said, ambling over towards the dresser. She found the tops on the first try, pulling out a wine-colored wrap shirt and grabbing the same pair of light-wash jeans she had worn on the plane. Pierre moved to duck out of the room, presumably to give her privacy to change. Laurel made a split-second decision to call after him. “You don’t have to leave.” Pierre stopped in his tracks.

Laurel slipped the shirt on, tying it in the front, and fastened her jeans. Mascara on and booties zippered, and she was good to go. “So what is this thing, anyways?” she asked Pierre as they drove to Foligno’s house. 

Pierre tilted his head. “Little bit of this, little bit of that. Half the typical beginning-of-the-year preseason party, half the wedding reception we never had. They were very insistent on bringing gifts, so be prepared.”

“Will do,” she said, laughing. “And by they, you mean…”

“Some of the guys, but mostly the wives and girlfriends. Their parties are the stuff of legends, so you can imagine how excited everyone was when I told them we never had a proper reception.”

“But they don’t know why we didn’t have a proper party,” Laurel reminded him. 

“About that…” Pierre started, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

Laurel froze, her thumb hovering over her phone screen, halfway through composing a text to Kristen. “Pierre,” she swallowed, her voice deadly soft, “did you tell someone?”

---

It was the Saturday before, and the team had gone out to celebrate the end of the first week of training camp. Sunday was an off day, so Saturday night found all the over-21s — and anyone who could get a good enough fake — at a bar in the city. Pierre had just crossed the line into tipsy, and as his captain was about to find out, tipsy Pierre was an oversharer. It was common enough for families to be a topic of discussion on nights out or in the locker room; that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that, as the old adage goes, drunk words are sober thoughts. And, if he was being honest, Pierre was still harboring some guilt from having to hide the truth of his and Laurel’s marriage from everyone, Nick included. Pierre hated that he couldn’t tell Nick the truth. He was his captain and his friend, and he felt the least he owed to him was not to lie. 

“It’s just so weird being away from Laurel, away from Montréal, for this long,” Pierre sighed. 

“Sure,” Nick said sympathetically, “but you said you’d been friends for a few years, so you’ve had feelings for her for a while, no? It’s obviously not ideal, but you’ve been away from her for longer.” 

Pierre turned towards Nick, some of his beer — his fourth of the night — spilling out of the cup. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

Nick rolled his eyes, thinking he was going to be hearing some dumb high school confession, that he had asked out a senior girl when he was a freshman, or filled his QMJHL captain’s gloves with shaving cream or something. He didn’t expect what he heard next. 

“We got married so she could stay in the country, for her permanent residency. I never met her before June.” 

Nick sucked in a breath. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?” 

“Nope.” 

“You realize how much trouble you guys could get into if they figure out, right?” he asked. 

Pierre nodded, looking down at his clasped hands nervously. “We both do. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?” 

“No, of course not,” Nick said. “I trust you, and I know you and Laurel were just doing what you thought was the best and most logical thing given the circumstances.” Pierre let out a somber nod. “But,” he continued, “I feel like this whole...situation just leaves open the opportunity for things to get really messy really quickly.” 

“Messy how?” Pierre asked. 

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking at a spot just beyond Pierre’s head. He didn’t want to, not really, but it was his job as Pierre’s captain — more importantly as his friend  — to make him consider every angle. “Someone catching feelings, one of you falling for the other, or God forbid, someone else. There’s already so much at stake in a ‘normal’ marriage, but yours just has added complications.” Pierre felt a twinge in his heart. He didn’t want to admit it, he really didn’t want to admit it, but Nick was right. “Do you love her?” Nick asked softly. 

Pierre sunk back into his chair. “I don’t know. She means a lot to me, more than I ever thought she would, but I don’t know. Plus, I have no clue how she feels about me, and I wouldn’t want to say something like that only to have her pull away.” 

“Did you guys talk about that?” he asked. 

“About what?” Pierre responded. 

“About what would happen if one of you caught feelings. Because I’m assuming it was supposed to, is supposed to, be a strictly platonic thing.” 

Pierre shrugged. “Not really. We didn’t like make a pact or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. We really didn’t talk much about it at all,” he said, finishing his beer. “I mean, obviously we agreed that we wouldn’t be seeing anyone else, dating or hooking up or anything like that. It was just too risky. But no, we never really addressed how we’d deal with it if one of us ended up...falling for each other. I guess it was just supposed to be a ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ type of thing.” 

“And have you come to it?” Nick asked. 

“I don’t know.”

---

Pierre finished the story, hazarding a glance over to Laurel, who was wringing her hands as she looked out the windshield. “I’m not mad at you,” she said finally. “If Nick said he wouldn’t tell, I trust you when you say he won’t. One of us was bound to let it slip eventually.” 

He turned his eyes back towards the road, still feeling a pang of regret. She was almost being too good to him. “We’ll be okay,” he said, saying it just as much to himself as he did to her. 

Laurel gave him a small smile as they pulled into the Foligno’s house, parking on the stone-paved driveway. “We will be.”

Janelle opened the door practically the second after they knocked, greeting Pierre and Laurel with warm hugs. “Laurel, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, squeezing her hand. “We know how hard it is to find the time off and make the trip down, and everyone’s excited to see you.” She led them through the entryway to the living room, where Laurel was passed around to some twenty-odd players and their partners, where she introduced herself over and over again as “Pierre’s wife, yes the nurse from Minnesota who none of you knew existed.” 

Dinner was a barbeque outside, Nick, Pierre, and some of the others manning the three grills as Laurel helped set up the drinks table. He held her hand under the table as they ate, his thumb gently rubbing across her thigh every so often in reassurance. “You good?” he murmured in his ear as Laurel sipped a beer, half-listening to some story Korpi was telling about a near-miss incident with a water ski back in Finland during the summer. 

Laurel nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I’m good.”

Plates were cleared, dishes were washed, and everyone was herded into Nick and Janelle’s enormous family room, where a small mountain of wrapped boxes and bags sat in the far corner. “I don’t know if you know this,” Janelle said conspiratorially as Laurel sat down, “but NHLers make more than a little money.” 

She laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

“Which means that, clueless though they may be, you’re going to be getting some very nice presents.” 

And very nice presents they were. A wine club membership, a set of dutch ovens from Seth — “It was my mom’s suggestion”  — Jones, an espresso machine from Boone, a set of matching, personalized dog bowls for Phil, Georgia, and Piper. Laurel honestly wasn’t sure how it was all going to fit in the car, let alone how she was going to manage to stay under the baggage limit on her way back to Canada, but the thought and kindness that went into each gift was what really made it special. 

“From me and the other girls,” Janelle said, passing Laurel a bag. 

“Oh, this is too much,” Laurel said. “You already got the knives and the mixer, I don’t need anything else.”

Cam’s wife, Natalie, shrugged. “Would it help if we made it, didn’t buy it?”

Laurel’s brow furrowed in confusion, her fingers moving to undo the ribbon that tied the handles together, taking out the tissue paper. “Oh!” she gasped quietly as she pulled out a denim jacket, a Blue Jackets logo ironed onto the back, Dubois embroidered where a name bar would be. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re still a part of the family,” Natalie said, smiling. “Even if you’re not here all the time. We want you to feel as included as anyone else.”  

Laurel folded up the jacket carefully, tucking it back in the bag as Josh walked up to Pierre, holding out a small box, clearly wrapped by himself. “Well now I just feel silly.”

Pierre shook his head, smiling at his friend. “Don’t, Josh. I’m sure we’ll love it.” He thumbed open the folds on the wrapping paper, setting it aside before pulling off the top of the box. He fell silent. 

Laurel peeked over, trying to catch a glimpse of the box’s contents. “What is it, P?”

Instead of answering, Pierre just held the box upside-down. Condoms of all colors and sizes rained down onto the hardwood floor as Pierre stared at Josh, clearly trying very hard not to laugh. The side of his mouth twitched. “Interesting choice of gift, you don’t think?” he asked.

Josh shrugged helplessly, his cheeks red. “It’s practical?”

 November 28 (sun)

 Laurel caught every Blue Jackets game she could on the TV, even the ones in early November when Pierre was out for a few games with a mild concussion. She was his wife, but she was also a nurse, and made sure to get daily updates on his condition, restraining herself from FaceTiming him to help limit his amount of daily screen time. But he had been back for a few weeks, making second star of the night with a goal and an assist, so naturally he was pulled away for a few postgame interviews. 

Laurel watched the screen, trying not to get distracted by the sweat drenching his Underarmour. Reporters, the good ones at least, were usually considerate with steering clear of asking personal questions, but sometimes an injury, or the birth of a child, or, as luck would have it, a wedding, begged an answer. “So, Pierre, I think a lot of us were surprised to see you announce on Instagram that you had gotten married this summer. Congratulations, by the way,” the journalist from the Dispatch said. 

“Thanks,” Pierre replied, smiling. 

“And I hope I speak for everyone here when saying that we entirely respect you and your wife’s decision to keep things quiet and announce it in a much more subdued fashion than usual. Players often speak a lot about how integral support from family and friends is, and just how important it is to have that kind of a support system in place.” Pierre could see where the question was going. “Obviously you’ve got the boys down here, but it doesn’t look like your wife Laurel is based in Columbus like you are. Is there a reason for that, and do you think that’s affected your game?” 

Pierre sucked in a breath; it was a fair question, and a reasonable assumption to make, but that didn’t mean he liked answering it any more. But it was almost suspicious how quickly he had an answer. “Uh, yeah, it’s been interesting for us to have to navigate. You’re right, Laurel’s back in Montréal, she spends most of her time at our place in the city. She’s a nurse in the intensive care unit of CHU Saint-Justine, so she does pediatrics there. She loves what she does, and she’s so good at it, and it just wouldn’t be right of me to ever ask or expect her to leave on my account. I know we’ve got a great hospital at Nationwide Children’s, but she loves where she is. We both do. So yeah, it’s rough being away sometimes, but luckily she’s able to move shifts around and make it down twice a month or so when we’re not on the road. But we keep in contact daily, obviously, and I’m able to lean on the guys, especially the other married ones, on how to deal with the stress of being away for so long. But it’s rough. I miss my wife,” Pierre finished. 

Laurel clicked the remote, turning the TV off, her hand scratching behind Piper’s ears, and tried not to replay his words in her mind as she crawled into bed and fell asleep. 

 December 18 (sat)

 Laurel stumbled through the door of Pierre’s Columbus apartment, laughing breathlessly as she tried to lock the deadbolt. “You need some help there, L?” Pierre asked, raising one eyebrow. 

“I’m good,” Laurel said, taking two more tries before it would actually lock. The eggnog from the Christmas party was starting to take its toll; Pierre had agreed to be the pair’s designated driver for the night, so she had had maybe a glass too many. The night had genuinely been so much fun, Laurel had initially been worried at how well she might fit in with the group in a more casual situation. As much as she loved being able to hang out with the team and the other WAGs when she was in Ohio — and she did — she couldn’t help but be nervous that she didn’t have the same level of camaraderie that could help turn a night from good to great. Laurel couldn’t have been happier to be wrong. She was embraced from the moment she walked in the door, a glass of wine pushed into her hand and her Secret Santa gift deposited on the entryway table. 

Laurel used to always roll her eyes at the idea that “time flies when you’re having fun,” but that couldn’t have been more true for the party. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but suddenly it was almost midnight, and the couples with kids had to head home to relieve the babysitters, and Laurel and Pierre were headed home. 

“Let’s get some water in you, no?” Pierre murmured, walking to the kitchen and opening the cupboard. 

“Thanks,” Laurel said softly as she took the glass from him, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her on the couch. 

Pierre perched on the arm, absentmindedly playing with his watch. But while a tipsy Pierre was an oversharer, a tipsy Laurel was always emotional in one fashion or another. “How’d you like the party?”

“It was great,” Laurel said. “I’m not sure why Alexandre thought I’d be into a Blue Jackets scarf, but I guess it’s the thought that counts?” She pulled the offending object out of her bag, running her fingers through the fringe on the edge. “Seeing how amazing so many of those couples are, Janelle and Nick especially, it was awesome…” She trailed off. “But it was hard.”

His brow furrowed. Why would it be hard? “How so?”

“I always thought that, when I got married, it would be once and that was it.” She screwed her eyes shut. “And that’s not to mean I’m not grateful for what you’ve done, it’s so incredible and goes so far beyond just plain kindness. I just thought it would be a forever thing.”

Pierre’s heart dropped. Of course she’d feel like that. If marriage was something she wanted to take that seriously, how could she not feel like she was cheapening its meaning by treating it as nothing more than an arrangement of convenience? It wasn’t even like he felt any differently; hockey was obviously still his first priority most of the time, but he’d always seen himself as someone who wanted to settle down and have a family one day. He guessed that he just hadn’t let himself think about it. “Laurel,” he said quietly, reaching out to her. But she wasn’t done. 

“It’s just,” Laurel sighed, one hand tugging on her hair, tears threatening to escape her eyes, “knowing this is all temporary. Knowing that in a couple of y-years, when I g-get my citizenship and we get d-divorced, this is all going to end,” she said, hiccuping through her words. “I won’t be able to come to your Christmas parties and fly down for games and sit up in the WAG box with my friends and that jacket and a jersey with your name on it. I won’t be able to do any of that any more because it wasn’t real, it wasn’t ever real, and that fucking kills me inside, P.” Laurel sat on the corner of the couch, a spot as precarious as the words tumbling out of her mouth. 

“Why?” Pierre asked, even though if he was honest, he’d stake his career on the belief that he already knew the answer. “Why would it hurt so bad?” His voice was so quiet that if Laurel hadn’t been sitting two feet away, she wouldn’t have heard. 

“Because I’m fucking in love with you,” she whispered. “And that’s the single most terrifying sentence I’ve ever said in my life.” Even though Pierre somehow knew that’s what she was going to say all along, it didn’t stop her words from stealing the breath out of his lungs. Laurel looked up at him through her tears, her eyes beginning to redden. “Say something, please, P.”

Pierre knelt in front of her, his thumb resting gently on her cheek, wiping away her tears. “God, Laur, how could I not be in love with you?” She blinked rapidly at him, trying to process the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. You’re so caring, not just for me, but for everyone in your life. You’d give a stranger the shirt off of your back. You’re probably the smartest person I know, way smarter than me.” A giggle escaped Laurel’s mouth. “The dedication you show to everything in your life is amazing. At your job, you treat every patient like they were your own sibling or your own child. You make the trip down to Columbus once a month, twice a month. That’s not easy, all the flight time and having to leave Piper and switching shifts around so we can see each other. You’re gorgeous, not just on the outside — though you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen — but the light in your eyes when you talk about a new book you read, or how happy you look when you let me taste a new recipe you’re trying, or how passionate you get when you see something wrong and know there’s something you need to do to change it. So what if we’re doing things a little backwards? First comes marriage, then comes love.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I fell in love with you awhile ago. I think it just took me a second to realize it.”

 January 26 (wed)

 Laurel thought the distance and space between them would be easier now that she knew how he felt, now that they both knew how they felt. She couldn’t have been more wrong. So the All-Star break, and the Blue Jackets’ bye week, couldn’t have come at a better time. Pierre had made plans for the break a few months earlier, but after everything that happened over Christmas, it didn’t seem right to ditch Laurel for a boy’s trip with Alexandre and Seth. So Hilton Head was traded in for Saint Lucia, and his teammates were traded in for his wife. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Laurel was using three of her paid vacation days and Pierre was able to make the schedule work just right to get five nights in the Carribean. “A belated honeymoon, if you will,” he had said, cracking a grin over FaceTime as they booked the flights. The flight from Columbus was much less straightforward than hers from Montréal, but by a chance airline scheduling his first layover was in Toronto. Laurel met him at the gate, hauling her own green suitcase behind her as he flung his arms around her, kissing her with everything he had in him. They may have missed the not-so-subtle fans taking pictures that later circulated around Twitter that may or may not have led to some grade A chirping in the team’s group chat. But Pierre didn’t care. He cared that for a few days, he could forget about the stress of hockey and trying to make a playoff run and all the rumors floating around and just be with his wife. And, Pierre thought as they walked through the airport door into the Carribean sun, there really wasn’t anything else he wanted. 

They hailed a taxi, the twenty minute drive to their resort rushing by in a blur of palm trees and seas so blue Laurel thought she could fall into them just by looking. Pierre jogged into the main office to check them in, coming back with their key cards before the taxi continued on its way, dropping them off in front of their villa. Laurel spun slowly as they got out of the car, smiling up at the sky as Pierre pressed a few bills into the taxi driver’s hand with a nod of thanks. “You okay there?” he asked with a grin. 

“It’s so warm,” Laurel said in wonderment. Even in January, the weather in Saint Lucia hovered in the mid-70s, a far cry from the twenties and teens of a Montréal winter. Laurel was no stranger to the cold — Cloquet had seen temperatures pushing thirty below when Laurel was in high school — but the idea that she could be somewhere and wear shorts while it was snowing in her hometown was a concept so novel she hadn’t quite grasped it yet. 

He nodded, looking at Laurel with a gaze so soft she thought her heart would maybe burst. “We’re in the Caribbean, L. It’s warm all the time.” 

She rolled her eyes, bending over to get her suitcase, but not before Pierre snatched it up himself, holding the key card between two fingers. “Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to check out our honeymoon suite?” Laurel’s words dripped with suggestiveness, her sandal-clad feet dragging their way up the path to the villa with tantalizing languor. 

“Coming.” 

Even after the six months of their marriage, and even after everything that happened over the holidays, they hadn’t had sex. They’d gotten close a few times, both on her trip in December and in ones since, but never managed to go all the way. First Laurel needed a new birth control prescription — the last thing she would do would be have sex without being extra safe about it — and then she was too tired after a night out, and another time Pierre had scored a hat trick and they had partied way too hard to even think about sex. So needless to say, it had been a while for Laurel since she’d gotten release by any hands other than her own, and even longer for Pierre. And it certainly wasn’t because she didn’t want to. Laurel was well aware that her husband was hot as fuck, and she’d be lying if some of her lonelier nights weren’t filled with thoughts of exactly what she wanted him to do to her. But it felt different than any of her other relationships. Obviously, it felt different, she hadn’t been married to Oliver or Ryan or Carter. And that didn’t mean she wasn’t invested in those, but just that the stakes were so much higher and she had fallen so much harder for Pierre than she ever thought imaginable. She didn’t want to have sex with him until she was sure. Sure that it was going somewhere, sure that it would last, sure that he loved her in the same way that made her heart ache every time he dropped her off at Columbus International Airport. 

---

By the time they had unpacked, eaten, and gotten a few rum punches in their system, it was well past 7 and the sun had long since set. Laurel peeked out the door onto their balcony, nodding at the private plunge pool. “We’ve got quite the setup here.”

She walked over to the dresser, grabbing a swimsuit out and crossing over to the bathroom, her hand hovering over the knob. “Just something to think about.” Pierre put his swim trunks on in record time. Laurel padded out of the bathroom, the top straps of her bikini dangling, the swell of her breasts peeking above the cups. “Do me up?” she asked. 

Pierre’s fingers brushed the baby hairs at the base of her neck as he tied the straps of her white-hot bikini. “Sure you don’t want to go out to the beach?” 

Their villa came with a stretch of beachfront, and it seemed like such a shame to let it go to waste. Laurel shook her head, a smile playing on the edge of her lips. “We’ve got a couple of days to enjoy the beach. I’d like to stay somewhere a little more...secluded.” She bit her lip as she opened the door to the balcony, dipping her toes in the pool and sighing at the warmth of the water. Laurel looked back at Pierre, one eyebrow raised. “You coming?” Pierre couldn’t follow fast enough. 

They stayed in the water for a while, lazily kissing and staring at the stars and sipping drinks that had lost their potency hours ago, but neither of them really cared much. Sometime during the night, Laurel had made her way onto Pierre’s lap, where she reached over to the balcony, lofting herself out of the pool and wrapping a scarf around her body. “Getting a little cold,” she said, bending down and giving him a soft kisss. She walked into the room, drying herself off; he followed. Laurel threw the towel over a chair in the corner of the room, walking over towards Pierre, stopping when their noses were almost touching.

Laurel’s wrap fell from her shoulders, pooling on the wood floor. Pierre’s hand skated up her arm to rest on her cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She stood on her tiptoes as her left hand tangled in his hair, her right pressed against the back of his neck. She whimpered into his mouth; it took everything in Pierre’s power to keep the blood from rushing south. The kiss got more frantic, tongue and teeth clashing against each other as he walked her back to the bed. The back of her knees bumped up against the edge. 

Pierre pulled away slightly, letting out a moan as he saw Laurel’s face. Her lips were puffy from kissing, her chest heaving with the force of her breath, and her wild hair had long since been taken out of its ponytail. In other words, Pierre was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel, in that moment, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “You sure you want to do this?” Pierre murmured. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But he’d never do anything without making sure that she was absolutely comfortable. Laurel nodded, biting her lip. “I need to hear you say it, babe,” Pierre said, taking a step forward, their noses almost touching. 

“I want you to ruin me.”

Pierre audibly groaned, capturing her lips in his before throwing her back on the bed, his hand moving to her back to undo the tie of her bikini top as his lips trailed down her neck. He threw the top off to one side, paying exactly zero attention to where it landed, as his hands slid up her waist to cup her breasts, his thumbs ghosting over her sensitive nipples. Laurel’s breath hitched in her throat. “You like that, baby?”

“Mhm,” Laurel whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence. 

He smirked, lowering his mouth to her chest, flicking his tongue over her right nipple as his hand pinched her left. The air was filled with breathless sighs from them both until Pierre’s hands left her breasts. Laurel whined in protest until she felt his fingers toying with her bikini bottoms, his head lifting just enough so that his eyes could meet hers. “This okay?”

It was all Laurel could do to choke out a single word. “Please.”

Pierre pulled them down her legs, kissing down, down to her hips, down to her inner thighs, down to everywhere except for where she needed him. “You need something, Laurel?” Pierre asked, his voice dripping with sex. 

Laurel groaned, not wanting to give in but also knowing that Pierre could stay where he was for hours if it meant teasing her. “Your mouth.” 

“As you wish.” And then his tongue was on her, and in her, and she couldn’t help but let out a moan. And Pierre was loving every second of it. He stayed down there for a while, long enough to finish her twice. 

Laurel pushed on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn on his back so she could return the favor. Pierre shook his head as he shucked his shorts off, pulling her head down to kiss her roughly. “I’m going to cum right here if I don’t get inside you in the next two minutes, babe.” He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom. “Guess I’ll have to thank Josh for these when we get back home.”

She raised one eyebrow, clearly unamused. “If you do that, I can promise you I’ll never put your dick in my mouth. Not now, not ever.”

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, the foil packet shining between two fingers. “Alright, alright. I won’t.” He paused just before bringing the wrapper up to his teeth. “You want this?”

Laurel nodded frantically as he rolled the condom down his length. He looked so hard it was painful. “So bad.” He leaned down to kiss her, propped up on one arm as he pushed into her, hair falling into his face as he closed his eyes. He was too blissed out to be able to focus on anything other than how good she felt around him, how tight and warm and how well she fit, like Laurel Elizabeth Klerken was made for him and him alone. 

“More,” Laurel cried softly, and that was all it took for Pierre to grab one of her legs, throwing it around his hips as he increased his pace, head dropping to her neck as he nipped at her pulse points. It didn’t take long for Pierre to reach his high, Laurel right behind him. He pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead before getting up from the bed, going into the bathroom to tie off the condom and grab a washcloth. He cleaned up between her legs as Laurel lay there, trying to steady her breathing, absolutely spent from the night’s three orgasms. “Why didn’t we do that earlier?” Laurel murmured. 

Pierre laughed, throwing the cloth in the laundry basket and tilting down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I don’t know. But it was worth it.”

 February 20 (mon)

 Laurel had learned early on in her relationship with Pierre that she couldn’t put much stock into what was said on Twitter. Or Instagram, or any social media for that matter. So much was speculation: about draft picks, about trade rumors, about Pierre-Luc Dubois’ secret wife, that it just wasn’t useful or healthy for her so spend much time looking around. She still had her accounts, but Instagram was the only one she went on with any regularity nowadays. And she rarely checked her phone during the work day anyways; unless it was an unusually slow day  — which was never a good sign in the medical world — the only time she was even able to spare a glance was during her lunch break or when she’d run to the bathroom. So when her phone buzzed with a text from Pierre as she sat at the nurses’ station, her brow furrowed as she unlocked the screen. 

Are you free right now? I need to call you. 

Laurel bit her lip, nerves threatening to boil over. He knew her schedule, he knew she was at work. What could be so important that it couldn’t wait? Are you okay? Did something happen?

He typed a response as soon as her text showed as delivered.  I’m not hurt, it’s not bad, really, I just need to tell you something and I don’t want to have to do it over text. 

Laurel checked her watch. 11:18. It was early for a lunch break, but as long as she wasn’t needed, she could take her half hour any time between 11 and 1. She caught the eye of her charge nurse. “Claudette? I’m taking my lunch if that’s alright with you.” Claudette nodded, and Laurel quickly made her way to the locker room to grab her leftover pasta, texting Pierre on the way. Headed to the changing room now. Are you going to tell me what this is about?

Her phone rang a minute later, when she had just closed the door. She tapped the green button. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on here, P, because I’m kind of freaking out,” Laurel said, laughing nervously. “You don’t tell a girl what to expect, she starts assuming the worst.”

Pierre let out a heavy breath. She could imagine him running a hand through his hair on the other end. “I know, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I just needed to tell you before it breaks.”

“Before what breaks, Pierre?” Laurel’s anxiety was coming to a head. 

“I’m coming home.”

Laurel screwed her eyes shut, even more confused than she was before. “Yeah, Pierre, I know you’re playing here next week. Why would that be news?” 

“When’s the trade deadline, Laurel?”

“Last Monday in February, but I don’t see what that has…” She pulled the phone away from her ear, looking down at the screen, eyes locking on the date. “You got traded?” 

She could imagine him sitting down on the edge of his couch, one hand dangling off the side, Georgia trying to jump up and goad him into giving her a pet or two. “They’re breaking it right before the noon deadline, but you deserved to know before everyone else did. You needed to know.”

Laurel leaned up against her locker, hand over her mouth. “You’re coming to Montréal?” She had seen it mentioned offhand on a few Twitter accounts she followed the handful of times she had logged on in the past week, but nobody thought it would actually happen. Even the concept of trading him seemed so far-fetched with the type of season he was having in Columbus. He was sitting near 30 goals and 40 assists, with one of the best plus-minus scores on the team. It just didn’t make sense. 

“As of twenty minutes ago, I’m officially a Montréal Canadien,” Pierre answered. 

“Oh God,” Laurel said, sympathy lacing her voice. She couldn’t let herself be excited, wouldn’t let herself be excited, until she knew exactly how Pierre felt about it. He had just been uprooted from the team that drafted him, where he’d played for four seasons and made friends and where everyone saw him as the future of the franchise. 

Pierre let out a single laugh. “They let me know what the deal was, apparently Montréal really wanted me. First round pick next year, a second-year defenseman, some prospect from Laval.”

Laurel settled on the bench, tucking the phone under her chin. “Of course they really wanted you, P. You’re an incredible player, you’d be an asset to any team and you’re going to do great things in Montréal.” She paused. “But how are you feeling about the move? I know it’s not what you were expecting. Or what anyone was expecting, really.”

“It’s weird,” Pierre said after a moment. “Obviously yeah, I won’t lie, it’s a shock. But almost every player, even the really good ones, get traded at one point or another. Gretzky was traded to L.A.”

“Are you comparing yourself to Gretzky?” Laurel asked playfully. 

“No,” Pierre chuckled. “But just trying to remind myself that it was almost inevitable. I’m allowed to be sad about it — and I am, it’s going to fucking suck leaving the boys — but I’m not as torn up as I thought I’d be if this ever happened.” He felt more than a little bad about it, but his first thought when his agent called and broke the news wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t despair at having to leave the team he had been brought up in and the men he considered his brothers. It was relief. Relief that he could be closer to his family, relief that he’d be back with Laurel, relief that he was going home. “And hey,” he said, catching Laurel’s attention. “You know what?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “What?”

“I don’t even have to marry someone to move.”

---

Pierre’s flight got in late Tuesday night, just after Laurel’s shift at the hospital had ended. He had said he wouldn’t mind taking an Uber home so she didn’t have to rush over and stress about traffic, but Laurel didn’t care. She wanted to be at the airport to pick up her husband, even if it meant she’d still be in her scrubs doing it. 

She saw him exiting the sliding doors of the international terminal before she even turned the corner, practically slamming her car into park as soon as she hit the curb. Pierre dropped his bags when her car door opened, paying no attention to the thump of the suitcases as they hit the ground or the wandering eyes of passersby. Airports hadn’t always been his favorite place. They meant leaving the people he loved, going away from what was warm and familiar and safe. They usually meant uncertainty. But that had changed, Pierre thought, as his wife jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as their lips met. Airports might just have become one of his favorite places. He pulled back from the kiss, their foreheads just barely touching. “Hi,” he said. 

Laurel smiled, the kind of smile that lit up rooms and made crying babies giggle and that Pierre was pretty sure was his favorite thing he’d ever seen in the world. “Welcome home.”

[writingsfromstarfleet]

Date Night - Jean-Luc Picard X Reader

A/N: Hello! This is for a lovely Anon, I appreciate you, thank you! I do hope you enjoy this and it’s what you wanted! As always, the same goes for you lovely lot,too! Hugs :) x

yes i still can’t do endings properly but hey who cares look at the happy bald man

With the holodeck, anything was possible. There was no end to what anyone could experience, what anyone could do. Thousands upon thousands, possible millions, of options to choose from, places to go, things to see and so on. And yet, despite it all, Jean-Luc was sat stressing over date night.

Anybody could tell, even from a distance, that the Captain was not the most laid back man. It would be light to say he's stressed almost all of the time. Though, he did have his care free moments (in front of a book with a cup of tea, away from everyone; but that's not the point.) He sat in his ready room in a rare moment of tranquillity, with no sign of an issue or hostility around the ship. Just him and his thoughts, which were preoccupied with what to do with you for said date night.

You were a simple person, and you made it a habit to reassure Jean-Luc that whatever he did, and however he did so, you were just happy and content to be with him. You hadn't ever loved someone more, nor had you loved anyone like this. Being with the Captain, however, you knew that alone time and peace were not always an option; things went wrong and problems arose. Because of it, you were just happy to spend time with him whenever you could and however you could.

That didn't stop him from worrying about it, though. You entered the Captain's ready room to find him in thought, knowing exactly what he was thinking about.

"You know you shouldn't be stressing, Jean-Luc, I tell you this all the time." Your voice was soft, as you made your way to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He entwined his fingers with yours, though not facing you.

"I know that, Y/N, but I do want you to enjoy yourself and be happy. I don't want to bore you, and-"

You laughed, catching him off guard as he stopped speaking to look at you. Your smile still was his favourite thing to see. You shook your head, a smile on your face, as you knelt down in front of him.

"Oh, Jean Luc, honestly," you began, bringing a hand to hold his face, keeping your other one safely in his. "Bore me? I do believe such a thing is impossible. You are far from boring; the stories you have, I could listen to forever."

He smiled at you, genuinely, and you knew by now it was genuine and not one of his forced ones the crew saw so often.

"My apologies, you know how I can get."

Raising a finger to his lips, you hushed him and giggled.

"I do, and each time I tell you that there's no reason for it. Nor is there reason for stress. If you had any hair it'd be gone by now, today alone" you mocked, playfulness lacing your voice. He raised his eyebrows, an expression of faux shock gracing his face. Jean-Luc failed to keep the facade up, seeing you begin to giggle had him straining a laugh himself.

"Why I have never been so insulted," he started, feigning offence in his tone. "I ought to have you exiled."

"Now now, Mr Macbeth, do calm down."

The two of you stood, chuckling to one another at your antics; such humour would go a miss to anybody else, yet your own stupidities seemed to entertain the both of you to no end. But never would you have expected the Captain to have been such a laid back, relaxed man when you had first met him. You wished he was more like that outside of the comfort of yourself and four walls, though you felt lucky to know this side of him regardless.

Coming down from a fit of giggles, you pulled him towards you and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck. He placed a kiss to your hair and held you by the waist, a comfortable silence filling the room. Realising you still had duties to tend to, you pulled back to check the clock, seeing the last hour of your shift approaching. Pulling back, very reluctantly, you gave yourself a moment to look him in the eyes before speaking, your heart warming at finding adoration staring back.

"I best be off, I still have a list as long as a Mozart piece to finish before I'm let off the clocks. Though I will see you at seven, my good sir." You placed a kiss on his lips, and he pulled you closer, not wanting you to leave but knowing you had to.

"Indeed you shall, my love. See you then."

"And stop stressing out so much" you called over your shoulder as you exited the room, leaving him to shake his head and get back to his own work.

Seven o'clock rolled round soon enough, and you were showered, changed and dolled up. You were excited to see what he had planned out for you, wondering if it would be a new holodeck program or not. You chuckled, remembering that he wasn't the biggest fan of the holodeck, a thought that left you wondering even more so as to what the night would entail. As you walked through the corridors, you felt the excitement build in you; so many times you had done this, and every time it felt like it was the first time. Jean-Luc was pacing his quarters nervously, in spite of your words to him not to be nervous.

The door to his quarters chimed, and he let them open to reveal you looking nothing less than stunning. Though he thought you were beautiful regardless, he wasn't expecting what he saw.

"Hello to you too, Jean-Luc" you laughed teasingly, and he shook his head at himself.

"My apologies, do come in, you look wonderful." He motioned for you to enter and you were greeted with such a lovely set up.

Jean-Luc had planned for the two of you to spend the night in his quarters, relaxing and making small talk, and that' exactly what happened. For what seemed like years you sat, recounting old stories from back before either of your academy days, to more recent adventures and mishaps. It never once felt forced, and you were comfortable enough around each other that it felt as though you were lifelong companions.

The night, filled with food and laughter, had reached its end, and it was time for you both to retire, the next days work looming over the fun. Sensible as he may be, Jean-Luc didn't want you to leave; he did, however, have no choice, his duty as Captain coming first.

"I'm sad to go, though I did really enjoy tonight," you started, bringing him in with your arms around his neck. He responded by resting his arms around your waist, sending you the sweetest smile. "I had a lot of fun, thank you for being so wonderful."

"It wasn't much, but I'm glad you enjoyed it nonetheless." You could sense the insecurity in his tone of voice, and his uncertainty of what you yourself were saying.

Sighing, you smiled up at him and brought him in for a kiss, which was slow and full of love. In that kiss, you told him all he needed to hear, without ever saying a single word. Pulling back, the two of you shared a look that told the other enough.

"I love you, Jean-Luc, I really do."

"As do I you, Y/N."

[pduwd]

Sundays:

Sundays are usually happy days for people. They can be lazy and relax before the week starts. But for Luc and Jens, Sundays are the worst.

Most fridays, Jens takes a train to see his curly and blue eyed charming boy.

He loves spending the whole weekend with his boyfriend, even thougth the broerrrs tease him too much about it.

But he knows they're happy for him. And Robbe always make sure he doesn't feel bad thanks to the teasing.

Some weekends they go out with Lucas' friends, they go to the cinema, to the skate park.

But this weekend it has been raining a lot, so they're staying inside the whole weekend.

They spend some time baking with Lucas' mum. Because she adores Jens and "Luc, I know you missed your lovely boy but you can't have it all for yourself!!"

Saturday night the rain calms down a bit so they go to the garden with a huge blanket and they just cuddle while listening to the soft rain.

But then rain comes back and they need to hurry up. Jens starts teasing Luc because "come on, you're soo romantic. Don't you want a kiss in the middle of the rain?" "But I don't want us to be sick, and my mum would kill us both if we go inside with wet clothes. Sure you don't want to lose the favourite child tittle thanks to that, baby"

So they leave it for another time. Maybe when Luc goes to Antwerp for the next weekend.

After a wonderful weekend, sunday arrives. Lucas woke up early in the morning to make his mum's breakfast. He's been on his own world with Jens so he wants to spend a bit of time with her too. She is going to hang out with her friends for lunch so she kisses her in the forehead leaves, making Luc promise he will give a goodbye hug to Jens for her.

Luc and Jens spend the whole day in bed watching some films and kissing.

They just want to enjoy every minute they can have together. Because Jens will leave today so they need to kiss each other to make up for all the love they couldn't give for the whole week.

Usually Lucas is the one who shows how sad this makes him feel. And Jens tries to make jokes just to see his boy smile again. "Luc, hey...we can do it. Friday will be here so soon you'll see. We can handle it. Could you imagine Robbe and Sander being appart for the whole week? Weak lovebirds, I'm telling you!!" " but they're so cute together!!!" "Yeah, but they make me miss you even more and it's not fair!".

Jens has been so quiet for a bit. They're watching a film but he doesn't seem like he's paying attention. So Lucas lays on him and rest his chin on Jens chest while he looks at him.

He starts making sad faces so Jens tells him what's happening. But Jens doesn't say anything.

He doesn't want to make Lucas feel sad by saying that he's quiet because he can't handle not being together everyday.

Jens wants to be there for his lovely boyfriend everyday. He wants to go to highschool and find him there. Or not having to make plans 6 days before going to each other. He wants to be able to surprise Luc showing up at his house in 5 minutes. But he could never do that. He can't take a train to do that because "what if Luc is not at home? What would he do alone there?".

He just wants to have Lucas nearer but he knows it's not possible yet. And they're both happy living where they live. They have friends and family. Any of them would ask the other to leave that just to live a bit near. They could figure out something in the future.

But he doesn't say anything, he's just lost on his own thoughts.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Lucas says after seing Jens eyes get teary. "Hey, I'm here. You can always talk to me".

He leaves a long and soft kiss on Jens chest, where he feels his heartbeat, to make sure Jens knows he's here for him.

Then he hears a sob out of nowhere, breaking the sound of the rain. Jens couldn't handle it anymore.

But Lucas is there for him. So he just kisses his chest again and then puts himself on Jens side. They sit on Lucas bed and Jens just hides his face on his own sweatshirt. Lucas' heart breaks a little too much seeing him like this.

He runs his fingers through Jens' hair and whispers softly "can you let me see those beautiful eyes of yours? Please Jens, you can't leave me without those cuties". But Jens doesn't move so Lucas needs to try again, he wants to make his boyfriend to feel happy again. "Hey...I'm here. Look at me, please. It's okay, Jens. But please, look at me".

So Jens finally lets his sweatshirt down and Luc can see his tears. " I don't want this. I don't want to miss you for the whole week. I can't Luc, I can't" and his voice breaks.

Lucas put his hands on his cheeks and touch them softly. Then he kisses his tears away and Jens crashes on his arms, putting his head on Lucas' neck.

Lucas won't stop whispering reassuring words while he runs his hands through Jens' back and hair. Eventually Jens falls asleep. After that Lucas calls Robbe.

Hopefully Jens won't have so many classes on monday. Robbe is happy to hear Lucas. He's been trying to call Jens the whole day to tell him that rain caused trouble at highschool and they won't have class until tuesday. Lucas asks Robbe if he can tell Jens' parents that he's staying one they more. He knows Jens' parents love him but he can't stop feeling shy about it.

After talking a bit with Robbe to know how's he doing he focus on Jens. He looked so calm sleeping on his arms...

He looks at his beautiful angel sleeps until he falls asleep too.

Lucas' mum find them sleeping together when she comes back and she doesn't have the heart to wake them up. She'll ask in the morning what happened with Jens' train.

When they wake up, they promise to be open about how they feel. "Jens, I know you do it to protect me from being sad but you can talk about this too. You're allowed to miss me and feel upset, but don't hide it from me. I'm here, baby".

Then, the moment arrives. He needs to leave with the promise of seeing each other next weekend.

They kiss until the train really needs to leave.

Jens finds a little note on his backpack when he arrives at home.

"Maybe you realise you're missing something (appart of your gorgeous boyfriend), but I hope that what I left makes up for it.

On tuesday, a blue eyed boy wears a red sweatshirt too big for him while he joins highschool building. In Antwerp, Jens Stoffels is wearing a jean jacket. One jacket that you could recognise immediately if you knew Lucas van der Heijden.

When Jens put his hands on the pockets, he realised Luc had hidden little drawings on them. So whenever Jens find them, they make him smile.

Lucas is with Kes when he hears a message from his phone. A picture of one of his drawings. And then "I love you so freaking much". Gosh, he couldn't wait for the next weekend.

[smallblueandloud]

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 for the writing ask- I AM SO SORRY I COULDNT STOP!!! xoxo

aaaah these questions look SO GOOD thank you so much <3 <3 for this ask meme, which will be open all weekend!

1. tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

i pulled open all of my WIP google docs for this and my laptop started whirring ominously, lmao. this is going to be a Little Long but i love talking about my wips so who cares!! (under the cut because EXCERPTS)

guys and dolls but gay - very, very casual rewrite of guys and dolls if sky masterson was a woman. i’m loving how chill i’m being about this one because it’s so much fun to not have to worry how i’m going to write lyrics in a not-weird way and just focus on the story. this one’s first because it’s theoretically closest to being finished.

sky, laughing: “oh? people. all the people you turn down every day. well, i imagine there’s someone out there that’ll catch your eye.”

sarah, stiffening: “...yes, there will be.”

sky: “and what might this person be like?”

sarah: “he will not be a gambler, for one.”

sky does not miss the pointed pronoun. “i’m not interested in what he won’t be, i’m interested in what he will be.” she sits down on the desk, in a pointedly masculine pose, and sets her fedora next to her - at her most Hot Queer, basically. “how will you know when he gets to you?”

my fic for the aos rarepair fic exchange - i can’t give any plot or ship details, for obvious reasons, but it’s 1.3k and i’m having fun with it!

steven roadtrip of destiny - canon divergent fic set at the end of steven universe future where steven goes on a roadtrip instead of... canon. it deals with some heavy emotions and it’s also a character study so it’s tentatively shelved until i get around to rewatching suf. but i am projecting on steven like crazy and it’s really, really cathartic. it’s taught me a lot about myself too lmao.

He’s never been anonymous before. He kind of likes it. It means he can fold his arms on the table and put his head down without Pearl worrying about his posture, or someone asking him if something’s okay.

In the last few months, he’s grown to hate people asking him how he’s doing, or if he’s okay. He always ends up lying, because he doesn’t want to worry them, and he ends up feeling worse.

Probably because it’s more of him supporting other people without supporting himself.

He should have told someone how he was feeling. He should have reached out. Sadie could’ve helped him. Lars would’ve listened. Connie would have hugged him and then found him the appropriate mental health professional.

(God, Steven wants a hug. Also the appropriate mental health professional? Whoever that would be.)

untitled aos fic - i don’t want to give a lot of details because :eye emoji: and also i don’t know much about what the plot of this is going to be anyway, lmao. but here’s an excerpt:

daisy “that actor who doesn’t shut up about data harvesting” johnson (@daisyquake) tweeted: two weeks :eyes emoji:

Elena Rodriguez | Seven Cents S2 Streaming On Netflix Now! (@yoyorodriguez) retweeted and added: the problem with being friends with daisy is that you SHOULD have some insight into what her tweets mean but you still have no idea

Fitz (@justfitz) retweeted and added: Try being married to her

untitled star wars twins fic - because i am a total and massive nerd. i’m just kind of stuffing everything i have feels about from the post-anh era into this and planning on figuring it out later? i’m really loving talking about the culture of alderaan (and the culture of the survivors) and also i just love writing luke and leia’s relationship... so much......

(no excerpt for that one because i’ve basically posted all of it in various posts lmao)

aos ds9 au - i’ve posted a LOT about this already and i want to keep the plot a surprise but fsk is in this and married and half the cast is aliens, what else do you need in life.

“Good morning,” says Jemma, coming into the room with her hair wet and her uniform crooked. “Hello, darling.”

“Hi,” says Daisy, turning her face up for a kiss. Jemma obliges absently as she walks past, looking around the room.

“Has anyone seen my hair clip?”

“No,” say Fitz and Daisy in unison.

and of course, last but never least in my heart, chapter 3 of the magnum opus - writing this is on hold until my brain decides to stop hitting me over the head at every possible moment, but there’s like... 2k written so far? it’s. it’s going.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Coulson, and makes quick work of the right gauntlet. It’s only halfway through the left one that his fingers slow and he says, quietly, “Simmons designed these, didn’t she?”

She lets out a quick breath. “Yeah.”

He stays quiet for a few more seconds, finishing up the last of the straps, making sure they’re tight enough. Finally, he says, “She should be helping you with these.”

Daisy pulls her arms back and swallows down some words, or maybe a couple of feelings, or maybe a sob. “Yeah, well.”

2. tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

the last sentence of the magnum opus!!!!!!!!!!

no, lmao, i’m gonna try to be serious. i really, really want to write some librarians fic in the near future? also MORE OF THE SENSE8 AU. i’m DYING to write some stuff about that. especially sam’s cluster, for some reason? Let’s Make Him Suffer (Comedically)! one day i’m gonna finish that list of what cluster/situation each song is about and then it’ll be over for all of us!

3. what is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

i spent about eight months imagining a scene where riza hawkeye was really injured and mustang was holding her in his arms (basically the promised day scene but with more privacy) so does that count?

hmm, just for some other possibilities: glinda telling dorothy about elphaba, laura somehow seeing or speaking to natasha during catws, a good omens au of the good place (specifically the ”i don’t even like you!” / “you doooooooo” scene), kencyrath au of star wars (ESPECIALLY THIS ONE, except setting up the first scene alone would take 7k, but i want to talk about leia and luke and their MESSED UP TRUST ISSUES in this au).

oh, also, something about star trek tng where jean-luc and beverly and jack were in love and then jack died and picard left. more specifically a scene set during the pilot episode where jean-luc very cordially offers beverly the option to transfer off the enterprise, that he wouldn’t dream of holding it against her, and beverly very cordially telling jean-luc to go fuck himself. i want to write 30k of that broken triad. i want it so bad. i dream of that fic. maybe one day when i find myself with a completely empty month or two, i’ll binge all of tng and Write Some Stuff.

4. share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

since you and i have tww in common, i’m gonna do a tww fic! otherwise i’d have to reread literally every fic i’ve ever written, lmao.

(this is long but i put this post under the cut so i have RIGHTS. also consider this a sneak peek for the j/d fic in the sense8 au?)

“It’s okay,” says Helen. She sits for a moment in silence, seeming thoughtful. “The Congressman and I are in the same cluster,” she says eventually. “I’d- I supposed that’s easier on the Secret Service?”

“Yes,” says Donna. “The-”

She stops herself from saying anything further. President Bartlet and the First Lady aren’t exactly quiet about who’s in their cluster, especially with senior staff, but that doesn’t mean she should go talking about it in an unsecured room in LA, of all places.

To cover for her blunder, she gives up something else: “The same with Josh. They got really lucky with him, actually. It’s just him and me, so they won’t have to worry about anyone threatening the Chief of Staff through the barista in the local Starbucks.”

Helen looks up from the Ohio numbers she’d drifted back to, a slow smile creeping up on her face. “Josh is in your cluster?”

“Uh-” says Donna, feeling like national security wasn’t worth whatever she’s just blundered into. Oops. “Josh- Josh is my cluster, ma’am.”

She catches her mistake the second it’s out of her mouth, but Helen doesn’t call her on it, more focused on other revelations. “No wonder you two look at each other the way you do!” she says, sounding delighted. Donna shuts her eyes, praying for this to go away. It’s not that she’s ashamed of Josh - it’s just so, so complicated, and other people never think about how difficult it was. Still is.

i’m just... i really liked the idea of donna fumbling and having to reveal this to cover up for what else she was going to say? i don’t know why i’m so charmed by this. i think it’s because it would be impossible in the show - you can’t show what someone was going to say on television, not without a lot of setup and very careful scripting. it’s just a really fun situation to write about and i’m really proud of this conversation in general.

also helen santos was a dream to write and i love her a lot. i kind of want to write one of the fics in the series about her and her cluster solely because like... look at her. she’s a delight in literally every scene. i love her.

5. what character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

daisy johnson!!! i love writing daisy johnson!!!! she is the most adhd character i’ve ever written and i literally just have to transcribe my own inner monologue and it works perfectly!!!!!

Swing shift: 1600 hours to 2400 hours. Daisy always ends up getting back to her quarters at like 0030 hours, when Jemma is asleep and Fitz is reading some kind of technical journal. Then she has to eat replicated pizza, alone, and freshly replicated pizza is actually pretty hot but it feels cold at that time of night, like, spiritually.

6. what character do you have the most fun writing?

...whoops i literally just answered that lmao. uh. i also really love writing sky masterson in the guys and dolls fic? she’s just weaponized hot queerness in a suit and i love her for it. she is intentionally trying to seduce this repressed lesbian and it’s really funny and also really hot of her and it’s so much fun to write.

also, i wrote chidi for the tgp fic and it was possibly the most fun i’ve ever had with a pov, although that was also because i was purposefully trying to mimic the tone of the show. i still think that line about michael and a grenade is, like, the funniest i have ever been in my life. but chidi’s panic was surprisingly easy to write? all of tgp’s characters have such STRONG voices, it makes writing fic ridiculously easy as long as you don’t get stuck on a plot for six months.

7. what do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? would others agree?

oof, this one is ALWAYS tricky. uh? uhh?? i’m going to ruin everything by saying this but i basically alternate between the same two sentence structures and i am really frustrated about it. i also alternate between the same two styles of endings and i always use the same beginning (set scene, main character pov, thoughts-as-exposition, back to scene).

BUT ON A MORE POSITIVE NOTE i like to talk about emotions and relationships and character development!! i have my “queer subtext goggles” superglued to my face, lmao. i like to think about how characters must have felt about things in canon and how it must’ve influenced them. i like making people deal with the consequences of their actions, especially how it’s influenced they themself. i also just really, really like writing people who love each other, whether it’s romantic or platonic or anything in between. i just want them to be happy! i just want them to stick together! doesn’t matter what fandom, i stand by it.

[aion-rsa]

Where in Fiction Would You Spend Christmas?

https://ift.tt/34FuLCB

It’s been a staying-in kind of year. That New Year’s Resolution you made to travel more? It’s gained 20 pounds, started cutting its own hair and is now in a jigsaw club with your neighbour Ken. The only marathon you’ve completed in 2020 is a Battlestar Galactica rewatch. The only mountain you’ve climbed is the metaphorical one it takes to shower daily. That beach trip you’d planned? It went okay actually. You made some bells by selling coconuts to Nook’s Cranny and dug up a bunch of Manila Clams with a flimsy shovel.

For obvious reasons, escape is on our minds this year more than most. So we started thinking, if you had your wishing socks on, where in the collected imaginations of everyone who’s ever dreamt up a film, TV show, game or book, would you spend the holidays? On the holodeck of the Starship Enterprise or roasting on an open fire with The Simpsons, exchanging gifts with Ewoks or witnessing Scrooge McDuck’s transformation from miser to philanthropist first hand?  

To get things started, here’s what our writers picked…

Alec Bojalad would spend Christmas … reveling with the Sterling Cooper staff on Mad Men

If I’m to indulge this hypothetical in which I’m torn away from one reality and thrust into another, one thing is very clear: I will have to be extremely intoxicated to avoid my heart exploding from the stressful terror of it all. Thankfully, I know exactly where in pop culture to go to get absolutely blitzed: Mad Men. In terms of sheer debauchery, a Sterling Cooper Christmas party probably falls somewhere between a Bacchanalian orgy and Valhalla itself. As Don, Roger, Bert, Peggy, and company gather together to celebrate another successful year schmoozing clients and sexually harassing one another, I will don my finest 1960s attire and infiltrate the festive event. 

As Don Draper wonders who this soft-bodied weirdo in an ill-fitting suit is, I’ll catch up with Harry Crane about television. Then I’ll ask to see Bert Cooper’s weird tentacle porn painting. Sometime around my 9th J&B Whisky on the rocks I’ll visit the secretarial pool and beg them to demand better treatment because “you’ree ssssooo strong and eleganttt. Don’t listen to thessseee men. They’re Mad Men.” Hopefully I’ll be taken away to an old-timey hospital at that point, given electroshock treatment, and return back to my own continuity.  

Ryan Britt would spend Christmas… at Deanna and Will’s cabin from Star Trek: Picard

When Jean-Luc Picard uses the spatial projector to zap himself and Soji across the galaxy to the planet Nepethene, the result is a cozy pizza dinner with Will Riker, Deanna Troi and their daughter Kestra. For those who had been pining for more ‘90s nostalgia in this Trek series, the episode ‘Nepthene’ delivered, but with a strong shot of realism. Although Picard was written and created before the Covid-19 pandemic, the idea that Riker and Troi would leave the busy and crowded life of Starfleet, and retire in a remote cabin to protect their family is a choice many have actually faced in 2020. As people around the world have fled pandemic epicenters and tried to put shields around their own families, the peaceful and remote home of the Riker-Trois represents the optimistic ideal of Star Trek with a quiet, and very close-to-home twist. 

Spending time with the Riker-Troi family would mean great conversation, great music (oh the jazz!) and, above all, great food. I would happily put my own family in their ‘pod’ if only so Kestra could teach my three-year-old daughter the best way to construct a bow and arrow, and of course, how to learn that secret language of butterflies. 

Then, after the kids were in bed, having a glass of wine or some Romulan whiskey with Will out on the porch sounds pretty damn perfect. 2020 has been tough. A bear hug from Riker seems like the perfect Christmas gift of all. 

Caroline Preece would spend Christmas… at The Muppet Christmas Carol’s Penguin Skating Party

Ever since young-me set eyes on the ultra-festive world of The Muppet Christmas Carol I’ve wanted to visit. I can’t imagine a better way to spend Christmas Eve than in the cuddly version of Dickens’ cautionary tale, helping Kermit and his co-workers tidy up Scrooge’s office for the holidays, dancing down the snowy London streets and attending the Penguins’ annual Christmas skating party as the ultimate topper to a perfect evening. 

As well as being super-merry and joyous (‘tis the season), judging by Kermit’s performance on the ice, they let anyone take part.

It could just be the general lack of socialising and festive frivolity in 2020, but Bob Cratchit’s hopeful walk home from the office (remember the office?!?) on the night before Christmas has always epitomised the idea that the anticipation of Christmas Day is the best part. Add to that a trip to the market to pick up some singing vegetables, or the cosy Cratchit dinner with Miss Piggy and their gaggle of pig and frog offspring, and it’s a version of old-timey festive cheer that will always hold a place in my heart.

Louisa Mellor would spend Christmas… with the strippers in Hustlers

This choice won’t reflect well on me. It’s neither edifying nor improving and has a core of savage capitalist consumerism, which is probably what makes it so Christmassy. Midway through Lorraine Scafaria’s Hustlers – a film about a group of strippers who right the wrongs of the 2008 financial crisis by drugging Wall Street guys to run up their company credit cards – there’s a scene that’d make anyone’s heart grow three sizes. 

A dozen lap dancers gather for Christmas in a high-end apartment, their daughters and a grandmother in tow. Dressed in luxe loungewear and chunky gold, their skin glowing like a sucked butterscotch, they swap gifts, smile and sing and dance and thank the lord for their sisters. Expensive elegance is everywhere. Someone gets a fur coat, somebody else a pair of animal-print Louboutins. The woman who dips the dancers’ tits in bowls of ice before they go on stage is given an iPhone 4. Mostly though, they give each other affirmation. Without a natural hair colour, nude fingernail or a man in sight, it’s a dream family Christmas. Picture a Norman Rockwell painting with Jennifer Lopez in gold lamé, a cashmere Santa hat and a balcony bra. Feel-good festive perfection. 

Michael Ahr would spend Christmas… secluded in Hogwarts

Some may have found Harry Potter’s winter holidays without his friends rather lonely, but I can think of nothing more magical than having the vast empty halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry all to myself. Why let the staff have the warm, dry, magical snow that fell annually in the Great Hall all to themselves? Not being of school age myself anymore, I might choose to share a butterbeer (or perhaps a hot buttered rum) with Dumbledore and Hagrid by a roaring fire.

I might even be tempted to make the trip to Hogsmeade to see all the shops decked out with lights and blanketed in snow. I’d still be able to enjoy the comparative solitude without all the kids running around, but I’m almost certain there would be a group of carolers wandering about the square, never mind the singing enchanted suits of armor back at the school. And of course, if I could pick a particular present, I’d choose to receive the same amazing gift Harry received that first Christmas from Dumbledore: his father’s Invisibility Cloak. I’d likewise pass it along as a family heirloom to my own children on some Christmas morning to come.

Jamie Andrew would spend Christmas… in a Deep Space Nine Holosuite

At first, I entertained the idea of spending Christmas in Baltimore with the denizens of The Wire, mainly because I liked the idea of children running up and down the streets hollering, ‘Omar’s coming!’ moments before the shotgun-wielding Robin Hood of the Hood came swaggering down the street wearing a big red coat and a white beard, tossing out bank notes and whistling ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’. Then I realised that the chances of me ending up a corpse inside a boarded-up derelict building before the turkey was even cooked were surprisingly high, so I thought I’d try Christmas with Frasier Crane and family instead. Unfortunately, my foreknowledge of Martin’s and Eddie’s deaths would cloud the occasion, and I’d probably spend all night slumped crying in Martin’s recliner, unable to tell anyone why I was so upset without violating the temporal time directive. 

Best, then, to spend Yule time on Deep Space Nine. Christianity and its associated festive traditions don’t appear to exist in the 24th Century, so after saying hello to Sisko and co., and maybe playing a bit of Dabo at Quark’s, I’d probably spend the rest of my time in a faithful Holosuite reproduction of a 1990s Irish bar on New Year’s Eve getting absolutely wasted with fellow Celt Chief O’Brien. Now THAT’S what I call Christmas. 

Juliette Harrisson would spend Christmas… in Narnia

Not, of course, the White Witch’s eternal winter, when it’s always winter but never Christmas, but a regular Christmas in Narnia. It would, of course, be a white Christmas because otherwise, how would Father Christmas come and deliver presents to everyone? So I could spend the season in a snowy woodland surrounded by magical creatures, and be in with a chance of a really good present. Or possibly a sewing machine.

Read more

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On the first moonlit night when there’s snow on the ground, Narnian fauns, dryads, and dwarfs perform the Great Snow Dance, with the fauns and dryads dancing around while the dwarfs throw snowballs that don’t hit them (an often forgotten detail from the book version of The Silver Chair!). I would join in, although possibly not throw any snowballs as my aim isn’t that good. Then I’d go back to Mr Tumnus’s for sardines and cake on Christmas Eve and talk to him about his somewhat dubious taste in books (just what is Nymphs And Their Ways about, eh Tumnus?). I’d spend Christmas Day up at the castle of Cair Paravel, eating and drinking like a Queen, and then I’d go visit Mr and Mrs Beaver on Boxing Day for a feast of leftovers and maybe a little light ice fishing.

John Saavedra would spend Christmas…celebrating Life Day with Star Wars’ Poe Dameron 

No one has ever cared so much about Life Day, the Star Wars galaxy’s own version of Christmas, as much as ace pilot Poe Dameron does in the Lego Star Wars Holiday Special. From decorating the Millennium Falcon and choosing the right Life Day sweater to roasting the traditional tip-yip (also known as Endorian chicken), Poe shows there’s something much stronger than the Force in the Star Wars universe: holiday spirit. Who knew the Resistance hero best known for his knack at blowing stuff up had such a soft spot? 

Hanging with Poe on Life Day would mean chestnuts roasting on an open exhaust engine, drinking whatever passes for cocoa in the Star Wars galaxy, hanging out with Wookiees on their homeworld of Kashyyyk, singing festive carols in Huttese, and finding just the right Life Day tree for the Falcon. It’d also mean dancing to the hip tunes of Max Rebo’s drum (the rest of his band is unfortunately no longer with us) and partying with Lando Calrissian, Finn, Rose, Rey, Jannah, Mon Calamari, Jawas, Rodians, Ewoks, and maybe even Chewie’s son Lumpy. If you’re not sold by now, your taste in holiday parties might be bantha poodoo. 

Elizabeth Donoghue would spend Christmas…. at The Office’s Classy Christmas

Dunder Mifflin has many memorable Christmas parties, but Steve Carell’s final festive special includes some of my favourite things about The Office; weird Gabe, Michael’s enduring hatred of Toby, and Michael and Holly’s adorable relationship.

After Toby announces he is taking a leave of absence for jury duty (‘Thank you, Scranton Strangler. I love you. You just took one more person’s breath away’) Michael learns that Holly will be returning to Scranton and demands that Pam’s regular Christmas party must get classy. What makes a Christmas classy? A backwards Kangol-esque Santa hat, a red velvet smoking jacket and a quarter of a jazz quartet of course.

I would actively enjoy watching Dwight take down Jim in their snowball fight (total bully, needs to be taken down a peg or two), get drunk with Kelly and Meredith, dance with Phyllis and Erin and learn more about the enigma that is Creed. And although it is slightly more subdued than their Benihana and Moroccan Christmas parties, I’m sure we could keep the party going at a Poor Richard’s after-party.

Kayti Burt would spend Christmas … on Themyscira

The Amazons’ decision to opt out of the “Patriarch’s World” has always been a relatable one, but never so much as in The Year 2020. Historically, I’m not really a beach person, but Themyscira, aka Paradise Island, has a lot going for it: warm weather, a supportive community, and live sporting events where you don’t have to worry about some drunken dudebro spilling cheap beer on your toga. 

As far as I can tell from the Wonder Woman movies, no one (besides Young Diana, who’s usually working through some stuff) ever seems to be having a bad time on Themyscira. And why would you? The pre-Crisis comics incarnation of the island (which I am going to choose to accept as my holiday canon) includes indigeneous kangaroo-like creatures called Kangas that the Amazons ride like horses. Diana’s is called Jumpa; mine will be called Jimmy Hoppa, and we will explore the island’s cascading waterfalls and cliffside terraces together. In the evenings, I will attend performances at the Themysciran amphitheater with my new Amazonian friends or, if I’m feeling introverted, catch up on my book reading and crossword puzzles.

Listen, I wouldn’t want to spend forever on Themyscira—I’d miss my friends, family, and TV shows (Themyscira doesn’t seem to get a good wireless signal)—but a few weeks (or months, especially as I will be quarantining for my first two weeks) for Christmas 2020? Bring me to the enchanted feminist utopia.

Alana Joli Abbott would spend Yule… at the coven house from the Nightcraft Quartet

Witchkind, as presented in Shannon Page’s Nightcraft Quartet, don’t celebrate Christmas, but they do love a good Yuletide celebration. Page’s witches and warlocks are separate from humans, long lived, and magical. Young witches train in the magical arts at a coven house, living there like a dorm; the adult women of the coven (always numbering thirteen) may be involved in scientific research (like protagonist Callie), medicine and healing, or reading Tarot, and they teach their specialties to the young witches. The coven house is a central place where women gather to live, to practice magic together, to celebrate, and to honor traditional rituals. While Callie’s coven in San Francisco has their problems, the community there is caring and genuine, full of both youthful energy and centuries of experienced witchery. 

One of the perks of editing this series is that I get sneak peeks into parts of the story readers haven’t seen yet—including Yule decorations. Rather than cutting down dead trees, witches coax living fir boughs to weave along the walls and mantles, accented with red ribbon and gold—coins, beads, chains. I can imagine the cozy San Francisco coven house filled with witches all rushing to perform their tasks to make the perfect celebration, some of them convincing the fir boughs to expand in just the right ways while others brew hot chocolate or prepare the feast. I picture them eating in the large hall, voices lifted in joyful chatter, and then making their way out to the grounds beyond the house to celebrate beneath the stars, singing midwinter songs and looking forward to the next year. After months of 2020 with smaller communities and less human contact, being surrounded by such a vibrant, magical group of women sounds like just the right way to end my year.

Rosie Fletcher would spend Christmas… with the Roy family from Succession

Go hard or go home, they say, so since I can’t go home this year, I’m going round the Roys. That is, of course, the family at the centre of Succession, a show peopled by the very wealthiest and utterly worst. Festivities would be held at the home of patriarch Logan Roy. His children and their partners would be obliged to attend. Logan would hire a chef to cook, waiting staff to serve, some of whom he would abuse. I would give them sympathetic “I’m sorry” looks but do nothing, secretly thankful Logan’s ire wasn’t focused on me. 

In all likelihood I would be a figure like Greg (the egg), or Tom Wambsgans – mostly tolerated, vaguely despised and very much the second class citizens of the Roy clan, skulking on the periphery as Kendall, Roman and Shiv compete for Logan’s love and oldest son Connor comes up will another entirely ridiculous life plan – I dunno, maybe this year he’s decided that his next career move is to become Santa Claus. 

The food would be extraordinary. The booze the very finest – how long before, like Greg, I would be claiming the bottle of vintage rose champagne I had just motored through was ‘not my favourite’? And the dinner table conversation would be electric. Electric like an electric shock – sharp, painful, disorientating, unexpected. 

So Christmas has become too commercialised? Fine, fuck it. I’ll take the eye-wateringly expensive gift that’s grudgingly bestowed on me, I will gorge on the finest cheeses known to man and coat my tongue with port made from molten rubies, knowing I am on my way to moral bankruptcy and doing it anyway. Go hard or go home…

Kirsten Howard would spend Christmas… singing along in the closing moments of Scrooged 

You’d be hard-pressed to find a Christmas movie that feels as genuinely uplifting during its climax as 1988’s Scrooged. Bill Murray’s arrogant TV boss Frank Cross, having been visited by the Ghosts of Christmases Past, Present and Future, disrupts a live broadcast of A Christmas Carol to rant openly and honestly at the cast and crew (and eventually you) as he makes a passionate case for a life less invested in exploitation and capitalism, and eventually kicks off a collective singalong of Annie Lennox and Al Green’s version of ‘Put a Little Love in Your Heart’.

That’s where I’d like to be this Christmas. Not just to sing along with Bill, but to be around people immediately swept along by the much-less-explored altruistic route of ‘no fucks given’. 

Also hanging out with Bill Murray, though, of course.

So much of the last few years has been a public race to the bottom of Nothing Matters Mountain, but even if it hadn’t all been so demoralising and forced so many of us to reevaluate our priorities, Frank’s message of redemption in love and living as well as we can, while shrugging off our own heavy expectations of success, still feels really special. 

This Christmas, there is light at the end of the tunnel. We may not be able to grab the nearest stranger and sing “put a little love in your heart!” at them right now, but we CAN carry that feeling with us into 2021. As Frank says: “There are people who are having trouble making their miracle happen”. We can always try and find time to stop focusing on our own for a while and to help them.

David Crow would spend Christmas… chilling with Harold and Kumar

Not many people are aware of this, but A Very Harold and Kumar Christmas is the best Harold and Kumar. It may not have the pop culture cache of their medicinal-fueled quest for mini-cheeseburgers, but it does have something very special, indeed: Wafflebot. If you’ve had the misfortune of living your life oblivious to Wafflebot’s existence, allow me to introduce you to a greater world of wonder and magic.

Wafflebot is the best Christmas present to ever come out of Santa’s Workshop. Displaying an eerily sophisticated artificial intelligence for a toy meant only to cook delicious breakfasts, Wafflebot can make you waffles any time by just popping the top and letting that batter drop. But he can also do so much more! Vaguely aware of the concept of friendship, this brunching Frankenstein can learn how to love and appreciate his owners… and defend them from any threat with scalding hot projectile syrup!

With the ability to serve breakfast, save your life, be manipulated into dangerous attack mode, and learn how to see the real you, all while playing a mean drum solo, Wafflebot would make any Christmas a sweetly warm experience. And then Harold and Kumar, and I could also steal a Christmas tree from NPH or something.

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The post Where in Fiction Would You Spend Christmas? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[killherfreakout]

21h21

Lucas and Eliott go on a date at the cinema and just have to take pictures in the photo booth.

or: the story behind the black and white photo booth pics 

read on ao3 

---

Dimanche, 7 April 2019 

Lucas and Eliott had planned to have a movie date every Sunday night since they became official, but between cramming for the bac coming up, being convinced to join Yann and the gang for FIFA and pizza at the last minute, or just deciding to chill at the coloc instead, they hadn’t been able to make their weekly trips to the cinema. 

This Sunday, however, was a special one; the independent theatre on the outskirts of Paris they frequent are showing an American classic from the 80s each day of the week, and Sunday night’s showing just happened to be one of Lucas’ favorites: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

The theatre has low ceilings and patterned carpet and the wallpapered surfaces between are decorated with posters of iconic films by the acclaimed French directors Jean-Luc Godard, Agnès Varda, Claire Denis, and more. 

Lucas takes Eliott’s hand and lets himself take in the other boy’s profile as Eliott looks at the poster for À bout de souffle (Breathless), illuminated by the bulbs framing it and creating a warm glow on his giddy face. 

“Okay, come on,” Lucas squeezes his boyfriend’s hand then urges him to keep walking to the theatre as the movie is about to start. Eliott brings their hands to his lips and presses a feather-light kiss to the back of Lucas’ hand as they walk through the doors to their seats. 

There are a few other spectators scattered around the room, but Eliott guides them toward the back row right below the projector. The theatre is small and a little cold for Lucas’ liking, but lucky for him he is wearing Eliott’s black zip up jacket. He prefers to dress comfy casual for sitting in a plush seat for two hours - unlike his boyfriend who is wearing a black leather jacket and looks fresh off the runway, but he loves him for it. Lucas pulls the soft cotton closer to his chest and pulls the sleeve to cover the hand not in Eliott’s grip.

“Are you cold?” Eliott asks, because of course he does. His thumb rubs circles on the back of Lucas’ hand and pulls him closer.

“Hey, guess what I brought,” Lucas teases as he reaches into his pocket. He produces two chocolate bars and holds them in front of his face, one eye peeking out between them. It’s the same brand chocolate bar from the vending machine where they shared their first words with each other.

Eliott’s face lights up and looks at the other boy with disbelief. “You really are surprising,” Eliott shakes his head before grabbing his face and kissing him hard. 

Lucas’ cheeks turn pink at those words, taking him back to the night he played piano for him and showing a side of himself he never thought he would. Lucas reaches over for the boy’s other hand and places the candy in his open palm then curls his fingers to close the chocolate inside. 

Their hands stay intertwined for the entire movie and Lucas lets his head rest on Eliott’s shoulder every now and then, stealing a peck on the cheek here and there. 

*

“I definitely had a crush on Sloane when I first saw this,” Eliott whispers some time in the middle of the movie.

Lucas gives him a look. “Ah ouais?” 

Eliott nudges an elbow to Lucas’ side and Lucas rolls his eyes fondly in response.

*

The two get up from their seats after Ferris tells them the movie is over and make their way back to the lobby. Something catches Lucas’ attention in the corner of his eye as they walk down the narrow corridor, a photo booth situated in the corner. 

“Eli, look! We have to take some photos,” he points to the booth while turning to the taller boy next to him.

“Ouais! Last time it said it was out of order!” He opens the curtain and climbs into the extremely small space in front of the screen in front of the camera. 

Lucas follows and the two of them barely fit in there, so Eliott motions for him to sit on his lap. He happily obliges, sitting with one leg between both of Eliott’s and one extended and on the floor of the lobby. Their positions make Lucas taller than Eliott for a change and they both smile at that. 

They push a few buttons to get the camera ready and all of a sudden the screen flashes with 3, 2, 1 and the shutter closes and opens rapidly, indicating that the first photo was being taken. Eliott was in the middle of saying something and Lucas was just staring at their faces on the screen. Eliott grabs at Lucas’ shoulder and they look at each other and laugh at the fact that they were entirely unprepared for a few seconds before the next photo is taken. 

“Is this my sweatshirt?” Eliott asks with a handful of the fabric.

“Well, it’s mine now,” Lucas snides, tugging the sweatshirt towards the center of his chest. Eliott places his right hand on top of Lucas’ own.

Then as the screen flashes 3, 2, 1 again, Eliott traps the material between his teeth with a scrunched face. Lucas strikes a similar pose in reaction to his boyfriend’s antics. 

They are unsure if the strip includes more than three photos, and move closer to the screen for any hint. Turns out it’s four photos, because the lens captures Eliott’s confused face and Lucas taking up most of the frame and half out of focus. 

Lucas turns his body toward Eliott and their lips meet for a kiss or two. When they finally get out of the photo booth, a few familiar voices greet them in the lobby. 

“Lucas, Eliott! I thought that was you!” says Manon.

“Yeah, we could recognize those shoes anywhere,” Emma points to their feet. “Manon even has photo evidence.”

Eliott and Lucas look at each other. Manon shows them her phone, with a photo of their legs peeking out under the blue curtain of the photo booth filling the screen.

“Ah, merci Manon - our personal photographer.” Eliott jokes but with a sincere smile, draping his arm over his boy’s shoulders. Lucas looks up and smiles before leaning in for a chaste kiss.

Manon clicks around on her phone and Lucas feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket - it’s the ‘photo evidence’.

“We should get going, Daphné will be livid if we don’t catch up soon,” Emma warns. Manon sends a sweet smile over her shoulder at the two boys before leaving with Emma to meet the girls.

Eliott has the printed photos in his hand and Lucas leans over to look. The glossy paper has their poses printed in black and white. Lucas has the biggest, goofiest smile on his face because the pictures are perfect; they capture their relationship so well and seeing the way they look at each other makes his heart swell. 

“Where are you going to put yours?” Eliott asks, insinuating that they would each keep two of the photos.

Lucas thinks for a minute. “Probably in my wallet, or maybe with the hedgehogs and raccoons,” he refers to his collection of sticky note sketches that represent their spirit animals. “What about you?”

“They would look pretty good on our fridge, don’t you think?” The words slip out before Eliott has a chance to stop them.

Lucas feels the world stop turning. He steps back and studies Eliott intensely. “Our… our fridge?”

Eliott is a unique bundle of confidence and nerves, not prepared for how the rest of this conversation might go, but excited by the look on Lucas’ face. The blue in his eyes is the brightest he’s ever seen and makes his heart skip a beat. “Yeah, I mean-- well, it’s just that I was thinking.. You know..” he stops to take a breath. “It doesn’t have to be now, or soon, or even this year, and I don’t want you to feel obligated to say something and-” he is cut off by Lucas’ lips on his. 

“Eliott,” he whispers while stroking his cheek. 

Lucas can’t think of anything that would make him happier. Living with Eliott, falling asleep and waking up next to the love of his life every day, cooking (or rather, Lucas cooking and Eliott staying a safe distance away from the food) with him, doing small chores and boring tasks with him while listening to cheesy pop songs about love, all of it. 

“Yes, they will look perfect. On our fridge.”

A beat. “Are you… are you sure? Because we can wait, I don’t know why I said that, it just… came out,” Eliott says quietly.

“Hey, Minute par minute, non?” is Lucas’ answer, along with a kiss.

Eliott smiles against his lips. “Je t’aime.”

“Moi aussi, je t’aime.”

*

Eliott looks at his phone and looks at the time. It’s 21:21, the minute they decided they would move in together. The next step in their relationship, and a big one at that. One that neither Eliott nor Lucas would believe they would get to, but are so happy about.

They of course take a picture of the strip of photos to keep on their phones, make them their lockscreens, then post them to instagram. Eliott chooses to keep the first two photos and Lucas wants the last two. They are reflective of their personalities; Eliott the romantic and Lucas the goofball. They post them at the same time and with the same caption: 21h21, celebrating the love they share and will continue to share for every minute to come.

[celestialholz]

Tony Bennett - Close Enough for Love (Audio)

... So I’ve seen y’all recently, with your lovely Qcard song suggestions, all of which are very valid and I adore you for them, but if you’ll allow to wade in, mes captaines, I’ll raise you: space jazz, on their anniversary, with a twist chucked in because it’s me. This was a date idea at one point for the side blog (come say hi to some galactic idiots over at @ask-q-and-picard, if you’re up for such things ^_^), but this narrative was far too sprawling, so here we are! Welcome to around a thousand words of softness, a sprinkling of angst, a side order of introspection, and a god who can’t dance to save his own immortal essence.

(This isn’t a songfic as such guys, but you’ll get the most from it if you have a listen to the above whilst reading, thematically as well as lyrically. Let Tony Bennett melt your soul with his deeply appropriate words and delightful voice. <3)

* Also, as promised, ma’am - @q-card, have fun with this cosmic romance!

“Left foot first, Q.”

“Dammit, Jean-Luc, I don’t -” His footsteps are automatically corrected, the movement vexingly smooth, and he barely represses a snarl at his lover’s grin.

“You’re omniscient, my dear - how can you be so awful at waltzing?” He queries, voice a teasing lilt.

Q sniffs haughtily, offended.

“You know how to have fun,” he points out dryly. “Hardly makes you a natural at it. I’m not used to coordinated movements, man - I just sort of... saunter, and everyone’s just naturally impressed.”

“That’s why I’m trying to lead you,” Picard exclaims patiently, tightening his grip as he encourages the god backwards, deliberately slowing their pace. “You’re improving, if it means anything.”

“How the hell did you -” He sucks in an unnecessary breath as he’s swept against that broad chest, sprinkle of salt and pepper hair so maddeningly concealed by a jet-black tuxedo. “Where the hell did you learn how to do this, anyway?”

“I’m French,” he says, as though that explains everything, or indeed anything at all. Q blinks, baffled.

“The waltz is Austrian, you entire -”

 “European, then - it’s popular everywhere. Now, stop talking, will you?” Picard levels him with a stern exasperation. “It really doesn’t matter how poor your steps, Q - it’s all about the ambience.”

His deity grudgingly obliges, directing a glare to the old-school record player that rests off to their right; he snaps softly to restart the jazz track, attempting to absorb the steps as comprehensively as the words sink into falsely human skin, penetrate the entity thrumming in contentment beneath.

“You and I, an unmatched pair, took the time to touch, to share. Worlds apart the night we met, we braved the odds and won the bet...”

Gods, how long had he spent assuming this completely unattainable, this easy contact, the gentle heat now strewn through their acquaintance? Mere shards of cosmic time, but evocative of forever to a lonely, uninspired deity; a multitude of ultimately meaningless instances he’d tried so very hard to infuse with grander purpose, to express in a thousand universal languages that his beloved couldn’t hope to understand precisely what he couldn’t say…

His precious human had gotten there eventually, and as damned as he’d be to admit it aloud, it’s all the sweeter and warmer for the wait. He’d been expecting it to dull over the years, this calm sharing of his life, led in tender movements across the cosmic landscape; his captain is the introvert to his eccentricity, the tempered observer to his mischief-making, the mortal to his eternal: always quiet, always stalwart. Their ethics fail to align even now, and yet that silent yearning for adventure, to be more than they ought to be, continues to lead them as easily as Picard in their silly dance.

... It isn’t supposed to be so enchanting. His siblings think him quite mad, and perhaps he is, but he’d sooner tear the universe asunder than lack this wondrous connection.

 “How old-fashioned, pure romance; shared a kiss, we shared a dance...”

They’re slowing down, he acknowledges vaguely, as though Jean-Luc Picard doesn’t lack enough haste as it is; he takes a brief moment to awkwardly rest his chin upon his lover’s scalp before they’re gently pulled apart by kinetic flow, and the human smiles up at him tenderly.

“See, you’re not so bad when you aren’t overthinking it.”

“Shame we can’t all be idiots,” he bites back harmlessly, smirking. Picard draws them apart just enough to roll his eyes at the tease.

 “Oh do get off your high horse, mon dieu. At least I understand basic movements.”

Q laughs softly, steps lighter for the repetition through an advanced mind; he shifts snappily, avoids crushing a toe or two. It’s hardly conducive to the mood, after all, having to fix broken bones mid-routine, though it’s perhaps a more appropriate metaphor for their overall relationship than their now smoother performance.

The piece soldiers on blithely, suitably suave as a scene-setter.

“Not just lovers, more than friends - who knows where one starts and one ends? Tracing lights through sleepless nights that I’ll remember always, always…”

Q clasps their joined hand more firmly, so beautifully unified; their relationship has been the merest moment of his existence, yet it’s been more fulfilling than every fragment of the millions of years that have preceded it. He’s whole, finally, yet it’s all so very fleeting – all he’ll be left with within the blink of an eye is a frosted emptiness, colder than the space they occupy, and it’s enough to freeze him prematurely solid.

“Long goodbyes and tearful looks hold up well in poems and in books, but you and I have life to hold the greatest story never told…”

Live in the moment, you complete fool, he scolds himself silently, swaying elegantly now against his captain, hoping his sudden melancholy isn’t as visible as he fears it may be at Picard’s quizzical glance upwards.

“I can’t help but feel that anyone waltzing their way across the Magallenic Stream ought not to be so pensive,” comes the tranquil observation, grey eyes sporting a dash of worry, and the god allows a lightly bitter smile to coat human lips for a moment; a twenty light year-long dancefloor impossibly forms their stage, a flattened covering to the stellar river that connects the Milky Way to the vastness beyond stands as his grandiose anniversary gift, when all he longs to do is present him the universe on a silver platter.

“I hasten to remind you, mon capitaine, that you were quite content to do this in your quarters,” he points out in exasperation. “A tragedy, truly.”

A forehead meets his neck, their dance once more stilted to a simplified, vaguely rhythmic sway, and a gentle curl of a chuckle rises up in a vibration.

“Yes, well,” he mutters, “I’m rather unimaginative, as you’ve so enjoyed exclaiming for the past decade.”

A decade is nothing, less than, even. Why, then, does it feel like everything? He swallows ice, ripple running through his lover.

“It’s been a good decade,” he murmurs faintly. “Really quite an exceptional one, actually. The best, undoubtedly.”

Even fully versed in the linguistics of Picardian romance, he’s still evading the eloquent depth that comes so naturally to him.

The future’s for another day, not for tonight, he reminds himself sternly. We don’t ruin tonight, Q.

“The most wondrous,” Picard concedes warmly, “though I feel I’m at risk of seeming distinctly ungrateful. I’ve yet to give you a gift.”

Q can’t help a bark of disbelieving laughter – an absurd notion, honestly.

“Not sure what else you’re referring to the past ten years as,” he breathes, to a soft sigh.

“A gift to myself as much as to you,” he replies truthfully, and stars, he knows his Jean-Luc is a man of words, but must they always burn so delightfully? “No, I was thinking something far more… permanent.”

He doesn’t need to breathe, however biologically accurate his masquerade, though the absolute lack of oxygen that permeates open space suddenly seems a notable problem.

“… What?” It’s barely a blurted whisper, strangled by the purest hope and the deepest despair, because he can’t mean -

“You heard me,” Picard replies tenderly, and they’ve stopped dancing entirely now, though the embrace is no less fierce, the stare no less richly sincere. “I’ve been thinking on it, and… well, I’ve never been especially keen on the idea of ceasing to exist in the first place, and though forever is utterly incomprehensible to me currently, I believe it might not be so nightmarish –”

He doesn’t get any further for a good while; the breathlessness is spontaneously a problem shared and halved at the same time as they kiss, only the innate capacities of godhood keeping one of them alive.

“If you’ll have me, of course,” the captain adds eventually, the moment he’s freed, lips brushed rouge and eyes hazed, and by the galaxies if it isn’t the most precious thing a deity could ever hope to see; Q bursts into giddy laughter, runs a soft thumb down a smooth cheek, barely deigns to believe his own superlative good fortune.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you?” He answers, beaming, and he couldn’t mean anything less if it was bidden so by his own omnipotence. 

“Well, if we’re speaking comparatively -”

“Hush, you wondrous being,” Q whispers, lips upon his cheek, and he’s never feel so desperately enamoured by anything, anyone. “Ambience, darling - jazz is restarting.”

“Ah. Of course.” Picard grins, and a god spontaneously decides that he’s going to spend the next ten decades weaving sonnets dedicated solely to this evening across the literature of space-time as they retake their stances, and he snaps fingers through a distinct visual blur.

... He isn’t going to cry. He’s a damned Q, however frighteningly unimportant that seems in the arms of the mortal he adores.

“Not perfect yet, but close enough for love...”

Omniscience will give an entity the knowledge of there being no such concept as karma, so perhaps it’s irony instead that has his learned skill fly instantly from his brilliant mind as he stumbles over thin air, before almost immediately straightening, tux magically unruffled, beloved human so dreadfully amused.

“Shut up, okay? I’m emotionally compromised, and frankly allowed to be. It’s my anniversary.”

Picard chuckles in utter warmth, and concedes the point - perfection has no place here, or wherever they will ever happen to be.

[poetictrekkie]

TNG Crew Highschool!AU

Anonymous said: Hey! I was wondering for the 500 followers list prompt, you could do Headcannons for a TNG high school au? I was thinking of it as if they were students. Thanks so much if you decide do this!

Jean-Luc Picard

He’s one of those rare types who defies stereotype. 

No one can place him in any particular group, no set table in the cafeteria.

Of course, he prefers to spend lunch in the library. For some reason, the librarian never reprimands him if he eats there.

He’s fairly popular, and certainly no outcast. Whenever he enters a room, he exudes this undeniably authoritative aura.

Always taking the lead in group projects. Always.

Enjoys athletics, especially long-distance running. He’s trained for marathons in the past, and participates in cross-country events.

Subtly nerdy. He raises his hand all the time in English class.

Whenever students are assigned memorization work of a poem or a monologue, they can’t wait to hear Jean-Luc recite it.

His recitation of Hamlet’s To Be or Not to Be soliloquy went down in the history of the school as receiving a standing ovation and actual tears streaming down the teacher’s face.

He’s been the lead in the school play since his sophomore year. He was the first sophomore to get the lead.

Very private, especially in regards to his personal life. No one ever knows what’s going on in his head – or who he’s dating.

Will Riker

That guy. Every coming-of-age movie has one of them.

The more than slightly annoying, jock, “cool” guy that everyone wants to be around.

Secretly not a complete dunce. If he put in some effort, he could be doing great things.

Comes from money. The Rikers have been pumping money into the school for generations. Probably the only way that Will hasn’t gotten expelled.

There are probably several plaques in the school with ‘Donated by the Riker Family’ on them.

Has his own car the moment he turns sixteen, making him even more of an object of envy for the next few months.

Like his infamous escapades, his string of girlfriends is legendary. There’s a new girl on Will Riker’s arm every month.

But lately, since he started dating Deanna Troi, he’s toned down his reckless behaviour.

He’s also begun to realize that underneath his act, there’s a surprising amount of vulnerability that he’s refused to acknowledge.

Data Soong

Very likely the smartest person in the school.

He can memorize dates for history and formulas for math without a single error.

He is the captain of the school robotics team, and they’ve had a winning streak in the district and state tournaments since he joined.

He is also responsible for the construction of “Broomby,” a highly modified Roomba that can go 20 km/hr and is very good at wreaking absolute havoc when a distraction is necessary.

He is also on the autism spectrum (he has Asperger’s), and he finds it difficult to interact with people and feels uncomfortable in social situations.

This sometimes makes him a target for bullying, but Data has learned to ignore the people who tease him.

Even the teachers sometimes grow annoyed when Data tries to answer every question in class.

His adoptive father, Dr. Noonien Soong, is very protective of his son. But although he often wants to intercede on his behalf when he hears about the bullying, Data always stops him.

He hasn’t told him, but Data just wants to make his father proud, and prove that he can stand up for himself.

Geordi LaForge

The kind of person everyone wants to be friends with.

Rarely has a bad word to say about anyone. Very kind, funny, and helpful.

Geordi excels in the classes which require some hands-on work.

A star in woodshop. He has a knack for carving.

But he’s also very good at automotive work and technology-related tasks.

Always helps people with their homework. Might not know the answer every time, but he’ll sit and work it through.

He’s working at all the open houses for the school, talking to prospective students and touring them around the facilities.

When Data comes to the school, they immediately become fast friends.

Geordi understands how difficult it is to be different from other people. He’s visually impaired, but he doesn’t let that stop him from doing the things he loves.

The two of them spend late nights working on robotics projects, and Data even designed a pair of visual aids for his friend.

They didn’t work as well as the ones he already had, but Geordi kept them anyways.

He’s absolutely hopeless when he works up the courage to ask his crush out.

Hopeless.

But Data doesn’t really get that sort of thing either, so it all works out.

Beverly Crusher (Howard)

The model student and president of the Student Council.

Like Will, she also comes from a family of significant repute, but she doesn’t try to use her status for bonus points.

For her entire first year of high school, she denied any relation to the Howard family, just to prove she could make it on merit alone.

Everyone knows that Beverly is definitely going to get into a very good medical program in an Ivy League university.

She has top marks in Biology and Chemistry in her grade (Data is a year younger than her), and is an Honours student.

Beverly is friendly and effusive, but still introverted. She prefers to stick to her small group of friends.

She also has very high standards about the people she dates. Not many people can say they’ve gone out with Beverly Howard.

That’s why everyone was so shocked when she started dating Jack Crusher. A nice guy by all means, but no one particularly remarkable.

The two of them loved each other with a passion that could have went far beyond “high school sweethearts.”

But just before graduation, “could have” became all it ever could have been.

He was in the car.

Distracted. Listening to music. Talking.

Not seeing the truck that ran that red light.

Then Beverly didn’t know who to think to blame, not even Jean-Luc. Who was in the car too. Who survived.

Deanna Troi

The most popular girl in the school.

On first appearances, she comes off sometimes as a bit of an airhead.

Some people say she’s concerned more with her clothes than school itself.

But they couldn’t be more wrong.

Deanna is constantly motivated, trying hard in all her courses.

She knows she’s no Beverly Crusher, and certainly not Data, but she’s determined to succeed.

She’s an empath in every sense. She’s a great conversationalist, and has high emotional intelligence.

Whoever talks to Deanna always feels better and happier by the end of the conversation.

She gets top marks in the psychology class, and she’s considering becoming a psychiatrist or a counsellor.

She likes to make people feel good, and talk them through their problems.

Some people honestly prefer talk to Deanna than the actual school counsellor.

When Will Riker asks her out, she almost says no. In fact, she only says yes on the condition that she won’t become one of his cast-offs.

And surprisingly enough, Will Riker stays true to his word.

Because to him, Deanna is worth all the things in the world.

Worf

The slightly frightening exchange student.

He came from Belarus with his adoptive brother, Nikolai.

Compared to his rather rebellious and genial sibling, Worf is very stoic and prefers to keep to himself.

Some people joke that the brothers might as well have come from different planets.

Not many people have seen past his stony exterior. There are a few exceptions, though.

Deanna Troi, who he dated briefly in his junior year. But it ended up not working out, and they parted as good friends.

Jean-Luc Picard, who he respects as an intelligent person and capable leader. 

He is brilliant at sports, if rather aggressive.

He’s the captain of the school wrestling team, probably one of the best they’d had.

The bulk of sports-related injuries at the school had some relation to were caused by Worf.

He spends quite a bit of time in the gym, where he discovered he had an aptitude for basketball.

Tasha Yar introduced the game to him, and she remains his usual partner for shooting hoops.

He always stands up for the underdog, because he knows what it’s like to be one.

So, if he sees any of the younger kids being bullied, there’ll be hell to pay.

Tasha Yar

Ever since her first day of freshman year, Tasha Yar had acquired a sort of rebel mystique.

In the first lesson, she corrected the History teacher on a particular fact about the Cold War.

Not very politely, mind you.

By the end of the first month of school, she had been sent to the principal’s office twice.

Tasha’s very much a lone wolf. Wasn’t there to make friends, no matter how many people thought her defiance was “cool.”

“Tragic backstory unlocked at level 4.” No one’s got there. 

Protest is her art form.

She’s consistently skipped Fridays to strike for climate change.

She came early to school (for once) in order to put up signs protesting the heartbeat laws in Alabama and Georgia.

Tasha is a killer debater, and Debate is the only club she participates in.

If you try and argue anything with her, you’ve just dug your own grave.

Loves heavy metal, but also classical music. She doesn’t talk about the latter one as much, though.

When she’s not protesting the dress code, her favourite t-shirt reads: “Dismantling the patriarchy, brick by brick.”

And no one dares make fun of her, because they know they’ll pay for it one day.

[asdfghjkl1x1]

Lead | Grace, Kozue, Régine, Lucas

That night, Marion, Régine, and William were most vigilant. Sadako, on the other hand, got to have her first contact with Lucas, whom she found amusing when he couldn't stop smiling about 'someone else who also had an alter'.

"We're done now" Luke announced and Sadako smiled.

"Good job, kid. Are you a doctor?"

He giggled "No, just a journalist student."

The alter caught a bit of interest on him "So you write, or you're just into TV reports and that stuff?"

The young man tilted his head to the sides "Neither.., but I do prefer the writing part" his tone serious.

"So serious, are you one of those who take their job too seriously?"

"No, I don't have a job right now. But I do take this one seriously"

Sadako observed the bandaged space on her forearm "That I can tell, this is very good, and I see Marion also has been taken care of" she then squinted her eyes at him "You're not crushing on her, right?"

"Me? N-No"

Sadako giggled "Kid, I wouldn't blame you if you are. One has to be blind to not like her or have really bad taste, or possibly be a boring vanilla to not."

Lucas blushed and said nothing, he just thought that except for the recurrent smiling, there was certainly a big difference between this alter and his host.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you're a vanilla guy, huh?"

"Uh... yeah... I suppose"

"You haven't been with a girl?"

"No. I'm gay"

Sadako smiled "How lucky, so am I. So, how's your vanilla guy?"

Lucas frowned "Problematic, I guess"

"Oh, I'm sorry" she genuinely said. "We have that in common. Except I'm at a frustrating point, because neither my innocent self nor Freya have talked about it, and it's really frustrating to have all these memories of the times they could have done it. They really love each other. But helping friends in need comes first, right?" she rolled her eyes playfully.

Lucas smiled "I know"

Marion approached to them and asked the young man "Everything okay?"

The English boy nodded.

Sadako smiled "Yes, I was telling him about the goods of bondage between gay men"

At this, Lucas' face went red, making the Asian laugh, and the Welsh slap the latter's head.

"Ow, you do know I prefer to be spanked, right?"

"Don't provoke me"

Sadako smirked and stood up in front of Marion before wrapping her arms around her neck "What if I do?"

"We have a big audience"

"I'm an exhibitionist, I'm good with audience"

Marion smirked "Good, then I'll let know Freya of this"

Sadako pulled her arms back immediately making her counterpart laugh "You're no fun"

"We should try to sleep a while, that bear might be far, but I'm not so sure about the shooter."

"The only thing I can tell you, is that it's one person. I heard the hurried steps running away after the bear went the other direction"

"Someone was trying to help us?" Lucas asked.

"Either that, or we're being followed" Marion turned to him.

"It was a shotgun" Régine joined them. "Too loud to be a simple rifle. Are we nearby a town?" she turned to William.

"We're not. We're miles away from the next town, even though the closest one is from the direction of the shooter."

"Then is there some sort of cabin close to us?"

"There is a cabin on the path we are, but it's nowhere near where we are right now" William explained while Régine stared at him wondering about said cabin.

"Then let's abandon the suspicious thought and carry on with what we're supposed to do. After all, there's less than two days of walk. Let's sleep." Régine approached to Sadako and whispered "Koz— Sadako, do you need anything for sleeping?"

"Only this one close" she pointed at Marion "I don't have nightmares with her around. I won't have them anyway while I'm me."

Régine felt relieved and went to check on the wolves before settling on a tree, with Louis lying next to her.

Sadako turned to Marion "Can we check where are we for a moment?"

The alter looked around there were no high hills, or any kind of high places enough to see the space, just the tall trees, she approached to the one in front and looked up, finding him sturdy enough to climb. She turned to the Asian "Let's go"

Sadako got on her back, and Marion started to climb, leaving an impressed Lucas behind them.

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"It's not, she once took me up a skyscraper"

Lucas's eyes widened.

"We almost died that time" Marion glared at her.

Sadako smiled "We're here and alive, right? That's in the past"

"Just don't do any movements out of your excitement"

"I won't"

They went up the tall tree, while Marion was going up carrying Sadako, it didn't make her pace any slower than what she would go up climbing by herself.

Once they were almost at the very top branch, Marion stopped and both her and Sadako started to look around the area.

"Wow, this forest is massive"

Marion smiled "I know, I love it. It's like a small green world made that turns wide down in the ground, and becomes magical in the mind"

Sadako blushed slightly and stared at Marion.

"What?"

"I do like when you get poetic"

"Hush, and look what you want to look"

"I am doing that" she smirked.

Marion arched an eyebrow "Within the forest" 

Sadako rolled her eyes "Fine. Let's see..." she looked around before closing her eyes, removing the cotton balls from her ears, and trying to listen very well. After a few seconds she opened them again. "I can't listen to the sea, but the wind totally changes in the direction", she pointed southeast.

"Hmm..." Marion tried to sniff in the direction Sadako pointed, and then groaned. "Yeah, it's that direction. I can taste the sea salt the wind carries."

"Really?" Sadako asked before kissing her. "Yup, definitely sea salt" then giggled.

Marion squinted her eyes at her "I'm telling Freya"

"I'm telling Lucy"

Marion smirked "she wouldn't mind"

"I'll tell Régine and come up with a good tale?"

"You need to work on your threats. Let's go back."

They descended faster than they climbed, finding an even more surprised Lucas waiting for them. "You guys are amazing"

"See? He likes me" Sadako turned to Marion "can we keep him, Mommy?"

"He belongs to himself and is tied to Chase, so no keeping him, touching him, or anything, if you want to live. He's not very friendly as far as Grace's memories go. Him, Angela, and Grace are the exception. Let's get some sleep now."

Marion walked over the bag that William carried with all their things and with a smile on her face out of surprise, she pulled her big red tartan blanket out of it, then went over a close tree, and turned to Sadako "Come here."

Sadako approached and both ladies sat by the tree, covered by the blanket. "You sure about this?" she whispered as her body tensed at the skin contact

"I am. Also... good girl for lying to Régine" Marion whispered back.

"I didn't want her to worry"

"I know"

Sadako still insisted "Are you really sure about this?"

"At some point you're going to want to sleep with Freya, and if we don't find a way where none of you attack her while sleeping, both of you will suffer."

The Asian sighed "I know. What do you suggest?"

"We'll just sleep."

Sadako looked up at Marion, her eyes watering. "I'm scared. I don't want to hurt you again."

"I'll deal with it" the Welsh alter hugged the Asian gently "we're monsters, let's just... accept it. At the end, we're all we have."

"What about them?" Sadako looked at their companions.

"We'll protect them"

Sadako nodded, while caressing Yuki's back —the white wolf approached to sleep beside her— "Oyasuminasai, Yuki"

Marion smiled and felt something pressing against her head "You want to sleep here, huh? Oh well..." she patted the space next to her and the grey wolf lied besides her "Good night, Ulysses."

"Mind to sing to me?" Sadako asked.

"I only know one song in your mother language and it's a sad one."

"That'd be good"

Marion sung the song, making Sadako to draw a sad smile at her luck in love, before falling asleep, when the last lyrics came from the Welsh's lips.

Ohne dich zähl ich die Stunden ohne dich

Mit dir stehen die Sekunden

Lohnen nicht ohne dich

Without you, I count the hours without you

With you the seconds stand still

They aren't worth it without you.

**

The next day, the first hours went uneventful, the bear was out of sight, the wolves were relaxed, and no sign of the shooter.

Later, Marion and Sadako went to hunt with the wolves. Their speed matched,  the Asian was better at making decisions when left alone with the hunting wolves. Unlike Kozue, she was determined, and saw her companions not as different from her, but as equals and even an extended family, which made her communicate instructions even better than Marion.

They returned with the results of their hunt, then cooked them, and ate.

"Try to not take too much time to eat, ladies and gentlemen. We got to cover the last terrain, and be aware, we don't know if we'll find it unoccupied" Régine announced, looking around her, trying to spot if they're were followed. Her wolf subordinate, Louis, seemed to be as mistrusting and vigilant as her. He kept an eye on the surroundings while they ate.

Once they were over, and checking provisions. Lucas approached Régine "Uhm... they told me you were in the Army, ma'am. I... I just got in and I want to know if you could give me some advice."

Régine arched an eyebrow at him, then occupied herself of her rifle "You don't strike me as an Army type, Jean-Luc"

Lucas sighed "I know... I'm sorry, I won't bother you."

"Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry." She left the rifle and turned to him "I guess my first advice would be you getting a good physical form and work out a lot. And learning to fight, some people can get abusive with new recruits. So show them to respect you, and respect them as well, obviously."

"The Navy got interested on me for my swimming record. As for fighting... I'm not good at it, I'm afraid"

Régine tilted her head in confusion "Then, why you want to go into the Army? If I may ask."

"I..." he lowered his head "I want to prove to my dad I'm not useless, and that being gay doesn't make me unmanly."

The Frenchwoman giggled "I'm sorry, but from my perspective, first, I don't see you unmanly at all, and you're nowhere near useless. Marion can be a handful even at fighting practice and not even Claudette can stitch her up as fast and effectively as you do, also you know how to approach her without trying to top her in an authority sense, Marion loves and admires that, is one of the thing she lives for, someone to treat her as a living being, and not as someone to be afraid of." She smiled at Luke "You care about her, and to be honest, having you here has been a blessing, and I no longer feel worried over injuries, whether hers or mine. So, your dad can screw up, and your boyfriend if he doubts you as well, Jean-Luc." She stood up and kissed his forehead.

"If anything..." she whispered "I'm worried about your relationship with William, and about the way he looks at you... as well as something else that rubs me wrong, I can't tell what is it yet."

When they were ready to go, shots were heard. "Hunters?" Marion asked. Régine was about to open her mouth when she heard the unmistakable sound of the bear.

"Fuck... it found us" Marion tied to uncover herself from the tree when some shots went to her direction. "What even...?"

"Stay there!" Régine ordered her, before taking a deep breath and going out to shoot back.

The light bothered her vision, the men were in a tall and distant place, and the bright light of the clouded day didn't allow her to see where exactly she was shooting at. So, she decided to climb the hill as fast as she could, to reach them.

However, once knowing exactly were they standing, the bear became a big problem for Marion, Sadako, Lucas and William.

The wolves charged against the bear followed by William, who tried to go towards the hill to keep both the bear at bay, and try to help Régine with the hunters. He would shoot at both sides non-stop and hide behind the trees for protection.

If any doubt invaded Marion and Sadako about attacking, it was gone, they ran straight towards the bear. Trying to stop it. Both their hearts were racing, they were so used to fighting humans, than when it came to other threats, especially ones that doubled their height, made them afraid of what they might lose when fighting it.

"Sadako, get the wolves out of here!"

"Are you crazy?! I'm not leaving you alone!"

"They'll keep attacking as long as I'm here, you're the only one who they follow besides me, so take them away."

Their eyes went wide when the bear stood up again on its feet and tried to attack both with its heavy paws. Each one tried to hold the bear, making it impossible for them to attack.

"Get down!" Lucas shouted, running towards the bear. I can do this, I can do this. With a swift move, he took a long wooden spear through the heart of the bear, leaving both ladies impressed.

They pulled back, watching the bear fall, and then turned to check on each other.

Shots were heard once more, this time to their direction. They ran for a few meters, watching how one of the men went down to pick the wooden spear and throw it at Lucas direction, while the a rifle pointed at Sadako.

Marion ran towards both of them holding both close, and shortly, a groan came out for her lips.

More shots were heard, this time from Régine and William, finally making the hunters to run away.

Sadako and Lucas eyes were wide open as Marion smiled at them. William stopped in shock, Régine's eyes were in terror at the sight.

"Are you okay?" Marion managed to say.

Lucas's eyes teared up, Sadako sobbed. Both held Marion as she dropped onto her knees breathing heavily.

"Oh my god..." Régine whispered, she approached and looked at Marion's eyes.

The alter smiled at her "I think you can help me by pulling from the back?"

"We need... a compress ready" Luke finally said, taking off his shirt. Think Lucas, think. It's a spear through the shoulder, and a shot on the torso, a wound bigger than the other, the risk of dying by haemorrhage is clear if not treated. Can't miss a step... can't miss a step... you have to be very methodical... His breathing hitched then took a deep breath, he looked at William "Make a fire, William! Fast!"

Lucas tried his best to control his breathing, Marion and Grace's lives were at risk, and he wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't do anything to help them. He picked some bandages from his bag, medical pincers, and patches, along a handkerchief then went back to the alter. "Breath deeply and exhale" he instructed Marion, the alter did so, and at the exhalation, Lucas dig inside her torso with the pincers, taking the bullet out, "Press with the handkerchief, I'll be back"

"Fire, ready! What else do you need, Luke?" William asked.

The English young man gave the materials to Sadako, then went directly to the fire, he grabbed a long burnt wood, bright red at the edge and went back. Without even letting the alter reaction, he pressed the burnt wood against the small wound, drawing a short scream of pain from the ginger. Then patched her wound and bandaged the torso. "The shoulder is next, we got to take the spear now. I'll pull, ma'am, be ready with the compress."

Régine took the shirt and waited "Ready?" she asked, her hands trembling.

Lucas nodded, and counted "1.. 2... " on 3, he pulled the spear out of Marion's shoulder. "Press, ma'am!" Then picked the wood and went to the fire to burn it for a while and went back fast, cauterizing the wound, as more screams of pain came out.

Marion could barely see, she felt weak and scared, but didn't regret anything at all. "Don't be afraid." Then stared directly at Sadako who was next to her, holding her desperately, as tears of pain rolled down her cheeks "You... you have to lead them..." she whimpered "I won't be able to, I... you..."

Sadako's eyes went open, as Marion's closed, then looked at Régine, terrified.

Lucas checked her pulse "Calm down, she just passed out of pain" then he patched the wound and bandaged the shoulder carefully. "She'll have to rest, and I guess we'll have to wait for when she wakes up to see how she progresses"

"We should head back to town" William said "I can call on Claudette to take care of her, besides I'm sure she'll need more than that"

"She'll be fine, William. Besides, the town is too far, she might bleed out if we rush moving her. We need to stay around here until tomorrow and see what we can do."

"Who were those who shot her, Régine?" Sadako asked.

"I have no clue, but they weren't exactly hunting, at least not bears or deers."

"See? We should leave the wolves here, point them the path they should go, and head back for help" William insisted.

"We won't do that, we'll keep the course and get these wolves to the place we agreed." Régine said firmly.

Sadako stared at Marion, until Yuki pressed her head against her shoulder. "Hey" then realized the other wolves were looking at her, waiting, then observed how the old and sick wolves approached Marion and lied beside her, as Ulysses sat next to her, but his eyes were directed to her own.

Lead.

[sharpnothashtag]

The Good Ship CrushWay, chapter 13

Scene: KJ walking from her quarters to the bridge.

KJ (voiceover): First officer’s personal log, stardate 43989.1.  It has been a month or so since I took over for Commander Riker.  I am enjoying getting to know the crew here, and I am making new friends.  Data has been trying to teach me how to play the violin, and I will have to admit...I’m pretty bad at it.  But he is patient, and a loyal friend.  We have also taken to painting “still lifes” on the holodeck with Maestro DaVinci.  I have him beat there, even if my grapes tend to look like amoeba. His literal thinking is often too much for our Maestro, so Maestro enjoys my figuratives.  Worf and DeAnna have encouraged me to join their MoQ’bara group, and I enjoy it a lot.  Spending time with a couple that is so very opposite from each other reminds me a lot of Neelix and Kes.  I miss them dearly.   While their Geordi LaForge is no B’Elanna Torres, he’s also a fun person.  He has one hell of a poker face, and I have yet to beat him.  Guinan and I meet together often, and she helps me honor my crew on Voyager by listening to my stories and letting me try my hand at some of Neelix’s dishes. DeAnna has helped me sort through so much while I’ve been here, and I feel like I am exactly where I’m supposed to be. Bev and I are still close--we spend every evening together in the holodeck walking beautiful paths.  Last night, we went to Lake Itasca in northern Minnesota to see where the Mississippi River begins.  Watching the sunset with her has become the best part of my days.

KJ: (looks around) Where is the Captain? (turbolift doors open, Picard enters.) Ah.  Good morning, Captain. Picard: Good morning, Number One.  Data, anything from the Delta shift? (message tone) Data: Something has just come in, Captain.  It is...a distress signal from Jouret IV. Picard: We are in the vicinity now, yes? Data: Affirmative, sir. KJ: Would you play the distress signal, Data? (Data pulls it up.) Distress Signal: (little girl, through intermittent static) Please, please help us, someone--anyone.  My name is Mayble.  They took my neighbors, and my mommy and daddy told me to hide in our safe house until they were gone.  They’re big and scary...they look like machines.  I am afraid they have my brother--he was out today at a friend’s house.  Please, help us!  (Noise) I’m going to go upstairs and check on my mommy and daddy; I heard a noise. KJ: Machines?  I wonder if this is the Borg. Picard: Are there any life signs coming from the planet? Data: Negative, Captain. Picard: Regardless, we should proceed with caution.  Mayble couldn’t have been over 10 years old.  She would not have known to not investigate the noise. Data: Captain, if you will allow me--if there were Borg here, and people fought back, the Borg might have fired their weapons.  If so, they might have left a specific electromagnetic pattern. Picard: Data, scan for that pattern.  If there is a way, let me know how long since they’ve been here.  Maintain a high orbit.  Number One? KJ: Yes? Picard: My ready room.

Picard’s Ready Room

Picard: Have you encountered the Borg in the Delta Quadrant? KJ: Yes--I ended up making a deal with them. Picard: (...) You made a deal with the Borg? KJ: Yes.  I found a species they were unable to assimilate and that harmed them too much for them to continue pursuit.  We were able to devise a weapon to help the Borg defeat them, and in return, they let us pass through their space.  A member of my crew was actually gained from that deal--Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One.  We asked for a representative, and they gave us her.   Picard: Based on your experience, you’re the best person to lead.  You should be the one to speak with them once hailing frequencies are open. KJ: Understood.   Data: Data to Captain Picard. Picard: Go ahead. Data: Based on the debris scattered in the surrounding area and the electromagnetic signatures we have found, I do believe the Borg were here. KJ: Do you know in which direction they might have gone? Data: Negative, Commander. Picard: Commander Janeway is assembling an away team to examine the colony’s ruins.  Please accompany her. Data: Understood, sir.  Data out. KJ: Captain, what exactly am I looking for? Picard: Anything that sticks out to you.  I am also curious about possible elevated levels of Lyantirum; see if those exist there as well. KJ: Lyantirum?  Why? Picard: I have an hypothesis that Lyantirum particles are how the Borg are traveling around the galaxy. KJ: I know that’s how I got here, but isn’t it an unstable form of travel? Picard: It is; I believe the Borg have found a way to stabilize it. KJ: I will investigate and report back to you. (exits Ready Room) Mr. Worf, you’re with us.   Worf: Aye. KJ: (tapping combadge on the way into the turbolift) Janeway to Crusher. Bev: Crusher here. KJ: Please meet Data, Mr. Worf, and myself in Transporter Room 3.  Bring a medi-kit; we’re going on an away mission.  There might be wounded. Bev: Understood.  Crusher out.

Transporter Room

KJ: Cheif O’Brien, keep a lock on us and an open com link. O’Brien: Aye, sir. (KJ gives him the look. Apologizing) Commander. They beam down to the planet and into the area where Mayble’s distress signal originated.  The house is in ruins, and there is barely anything left of what was once a beautiful home.

KJ: Something about this isn’t right. Data: The house is in shambles, Commander.  There are many things in this situation that are not ideal. KJ: No, it’s a gut feeling, Data.  This level of destruction isn’t like the Borg.  When they assimilate, most of what they destroy is any obstacle in their way, but ONLY what’s in their way. Bev: And this is different...how? KJ: This feels...angry.  The Borg do not have emotions--they’re mostly stripped away once the assimilation is complete.  But this?  This feels...well, look here.  Do you see how this family portrait is ripped to shreds?  And this combadge is crushed completely, like someone stomped on it?  This is the Borg, but these Borg are acting on a mission from someone who is furious. Worf: Perhaps they are angry with Starfleet.  Our culture promotes individuality. Bev: But so does mostly every culture but theirs. Worf: We should look around the perimeter of the house to make sure the threat is nullified.  (They spread out and search.)

Bev finds the basement where Mayble was hiding during the call.  There are three beds.  Two are neatly kept, and the last looks like someone built a blanket fort out of it.  Bev scans.

Bev: KATE! KJ: Coming. (once she descends) What did you find?   Bev: Lyantirum--and more of it than I’ve ever seen. KJ: Ok, good work.  Come on up again--we’re about done with the rest of the scanning. Bev: (disconnects her com line) Kate, this situation genuinely terrifies me. KJ: (hands on Bev’s shoulders) You will be fine, Bev.  I’m not going anywhere. Bev: Okay, well that’s a lie because we’re both going upstairs. KJ: Now is not really a great time for you to be so literal. Bev: I really cannot help the way I am, Kathryn. KJ: Look.  We are going to go upstairs.  We are going to beam up to the ship.  We are going to have coffee.  We are going to discuss our findings with Jean-Luc, and then we will decide what to do about it.  Take a deep breath. Bev: Ok.  But if they come and I don’t get to see you again, I just-- KJ: No, Bev.  We’re not thinking that way. Data: Commander, we’re ready to beam up. Worf: Chief O’Brien has a lock on you; just stay there. Bev: Thank you, Worf. Beam up.

[randomnessunicorn-imagine]

May I request headcanons for the Riker, Worf, Tasha and Picard realizing that the reader a fellow younger officer was realated to them all along? Perhaps Picard as a father, Riker, Worf and Tasha as older siblings. Adopted in Worfs case.

{ Oh, such a shock for the crew xD

Oh, god, I want to cuddle Picard, poor baby!

Yes, Picard’s scenario is a little angst even if I adore Picard.

Thanks for the ask-! }

⭄  JEAN-LUC PICARD ⥺

This is a big deal.

A Fucking big deal.

What the hell? Really? A son? Something is wrong here!

Are we sure this is not another dimension? Can this person bean alien who wants to make fun on him? It won’t be the first time an alien triesto make an attempt on his life since everyone in this universe loves totorture, humiliate or scare the poor Picard and there is no better way to freakhim out than using children! Yes, it’s his nightmare!

Or maybe it’s another trap of those infamous Rumulans? He hopes it’stheir fault because he can’t have a son. No way!

It is so hard for him to accept something like this!

Actually, we may assume something like this happened (I mean the alien threat)because Picard has never dreamt to have a child, he does not like children. Hehas an odd relationship with them since they make him very uncomfortable.

Of course, he won’t scream or make a scene in front of them, Picard isalways very calm and austere and he will try to understand the situation andresolve this mystery.

He talks to the young boy/girl with the purpose of knowing more aboutthem and then he will ask to Beverly to do an DNA testing to prove that theyare truly his child. Well, the test is positive and Picard is truly fucked up buthe does not give up because he does not remember the mother of this child…

Yes,he has got some relationships but he has always used precautions and the contraceptivemethods have improved a lot these last centuries. Picard is sure there issomething more than a broken condom.

This child seems very sure about his role and they just want to beaccepted by him or, at least, they want Picard to be a little more friendly andnicer with them. Picard does not want to be rude but he is shocked andunprepared. He can’t face this problem alone. 

A fight with the Borgs would beeasier than this…

With time, Picard starts to remember something about this child but anythingabout the mother… Well, he has weird nightmares about a mission he forgot… Amission that happened some years ago and he has never recalled until now.

The memories are so clear and painful; Picard screams and moves in hissleep until he wakes up covered in his own sweat. It was not only a nightmare butsomething else. The answer he was searching for revealed itself in hisdreams.

Yes, that child was his but this thing happened without his consent and awareness.

The mysterious child has not revealed anything about their mother andnot even about the place they come from. They keep saying to be Picard’s child but this answer makes the Captain sick and tired.

Picard keeps dreaming those episodes and he sees himself tied up in alab surrounded by enigmatic aliens. They are making experiments on him, usinghim as a sort of guinea pig and he assumes they have stolen his seminal fluid.

For some odd reason, those aliens were interested in his DNA and now hehas to deal with the result of this experiment: his mysterious son.

At the end, the alien child explains to Picard that it was the only way tosave their species because they were all sick and they were going to die. Thesekinds of aliens did not consider their action as a “violence” since they did not see it as a wrong action and they did not know the concepts of good and bad  but they have seen that some human beings possessed the gene theyneeded. Picard was one of those people who possessed this gene and so he has beenabducted, then we already know the rest of the story.

This child keeps feeling guilty for Picard since they are half human andthe aliens have not considered human emotions. That child grew up without a guideand nobody who could explain to him why he felt so sad, confused, oppressed andalone.

Picard –being the understanding and wise man he is- understands them andhe does not blame his son because they have not chosen to be here, they havenot hurt Picard and so Picard has no reason to hate them. They are just avictim like him.

The Captain is not going to abandon him but he does not feel ready for achild. They can still remain on the Enterprise and frequent the school. Picardneeds time before he can be used to it and the support of Deanna has never beenso useful.

Of course, he will also ask for some advice to Worf since he foundhimself in a similar situation, well, less traumatic but Worf  became dad from dayto night.

⭄  WILLIAM RIKER ⥺

We can say he’s the one who takes this thing with more enthusiasm.

He has always dreamt to be the big brother, he would be the perfectbrother and he is unable to contain his joy.

His mother died when he was a little kid, his dad could not be definedas the best dad of the year, and so William felt very sad and alone when he wasa child and he needed a little company. He has always hidden the desire ofhaving a little brother and maybe it’s not too late.

Yes, at first he was confused and sceptical about it, everyone wouldfeel shocked but then he has thought that it was not so bad and there are somany things he can still teach to this new officer.

Destiny is strange and the universe is so small because his brother hasbeen employed in the Enterprise, the starship where William works. He haseven chosen a career so similar to William’s. It’s so weird and fascinating.

William wants to know his brother better, it seems he knows a lot aboutWilliam but William does not know a thing about him and so he feels a littleuncomfortable but flattered, too.

This feeds his big ego because he’s still the first officer of the greatCaptain Picard and everyone knows his heroic quests. He should not wonder whyhis brother knows everything about him but maybe he does not know him that muchand there are so many things he has to discover about William (sometimes he’sreally egocentric, but he’s an adorable and friendly egocentric).

The two of them can do so many things together and William needs to knowhis brother better and to recuperate the time they have lost.

The first thing William shows to him is the Holodeck because it’s themost amazing thing and they can also visit their home on earth. William wantsto show him his favourite places and jazz locals.

Of course, William will also play for his brother because he’s still amusician and he hopes the brother is a music lover, too. They can do a duettogether, they will make a fantastic team. If his brother can’t play any musicalinstrument, William can teach him how to play the sax or how to sing. It willfill his heart with pride and satisfaction.

How can we forget about Poker? We know how Riker loves this game and hewill invite his brother to play it with his friends. Who knows, maybe hisbrother is good at this game, too. Their talent runs through their veins. Ofcourse, when William plays, he won’t be gentler only because he’s his brother.When William plays, he does not lose his cool and feelings are not taken intoconsideration.

William will have a lot of fun playing poker with his brother, theyshould do it more often, and he’s glad his brother feels comfortable with theother colleagues and friends.

Then William is a very protective big brother –sometimes he acts morelike a worried dad than a brother- but he does not want to see his brother’sheart broken. He often tells him to talk with him if something is not right, toconfide to him his fears and apprehensions. William will be always here tolisten to him. It is what good brothers do after all.

William does not want his brother to feel alone, the Enterprise is thefamily he has never had since his father was not very gentle and understandingwith him, and so William wants to be a role model for his brother. He won’t dothe same mistakes of his father because he does not want his brother to feelalone or rejected.

Well, it’s something William already does with the Captain since he actslike a mama bear with Picard sometimes and he would take a sword to save theCaptain’s life. When William cares about someone, he would sacrifice his life and he’sready to take the risk. I imagine he would act like this with his brother.

Now the poor William has more people to protect because he won’t stop taking care of the Captain and Deanna, but William lovesdoing it. 

He likes being the hero of the situation and it does not matter how many bones he will break, if the people he loves are fine then he is fine aswell.

⭄  WORF ⥺

He has a brother as we already know but he did not expect a new brothercame out of the blue. No, this is totally unexpected

His human parents are so old for having a child and his real parents aredead, and so Worf wonders how something like this is possible.

His reaction would change if his brother is a human or a Klingon. You know,he is very proud of being a Klingon but he knows humans enough and he liveswith them but he would never know how to behave with a human brother.

In this case, the human brother can be adopted or he can be the real sonof Worf’s parents, maybe a lost son or something. He and Worf would be half-brothersbut he accepts Worf as his real big brother.

Here, his brother is not a child but he is a young man and so hecan take care of himself alone.

It’s luck because Worf has a son, Alexander is a child and it’s so hardtaking care of him sometimes. Being a father is not easy and he can’t have anotherchild to look after besides Alexander.  

For Worf, it’s a sort of trauma, he does not know how to behave, and hehas so many questions about his new brother’s origin. He wants to knoweverything about him, maybe Worf is a little wary and he hopes it’s not a trapor some crazy plan but it makes no sense. Who would pretend to be his brother?

Even this time, Worf will ask to Beverly for the DNA testing becauseWorf is a sceptical Klingon and he still hopes it’s a mistake since his familyis already messed up; he has fought and lost his honour because of hisfather. His family has already been dishonoured and he is not ready for anotherhorrible revelation, he does not have all that patience.

His brother seems to be a diligent and serious person and he wants towork with Worf and help him. He wants him to be his mentor, guide him throughthe route of the warrior, and become a strong and brave warrior like Worf.

Of course, Worf is very honoured and he is his brother because Worf canhave only a warrior as a brother. He is impressed but he won’t be nicer with himfor it. Worf will be more severe and colder with him and he expects a lot fromhis brother.

What if his sibling is a sister/half-sister, instead. Even in thiscase, it can be the daughter of his adoptive parents or a girl they haveadopted. Or she is a Klingon like him.

It’s a chaos –especially if it’s a human female-. He knows femaleKlingons but he would totally freak out with a human sister especially if sheis younger than he is.

Worf becomes the most protective brother of the universe and he growlsto every man in the Enterprise. He’s fucking scary!

He would be protective even with a Klingon sister even if Klingon womenare stronger and more dangerous than human women and they can take care ofthemselves because Klingon’s women fight and bite. Never mess with them!

With time, he will get used to his new sibling and maybe they can evenhelp him with Alexander and even Alexander will have a new friend and uncle. It’sgreat!

⭄  TASHA YAR ⥺

Even Tasha has a sister but she has never talked about her.

Well, she is quite shocked and she does not believe it’s true, it’s toostrange and inexplicable.

Tasha will be very cold and a little aggressive with her new sibling andshe does not want to accept it. How can something like this be possible?

No, it takes time before she can digest the information because it’s tooabsurd.

Of course, Beverly is going to do the DNA testing because it’s the onlyway Tasha has to clear all her doubts.

In these scenarios, Beverly works a lot, lol!

The DNA testing says they are her sibling and she can’t escape from thereality and she has to face her demons (as she has always done!).

Well, she has lived so many horrible situations and terrible traumas inher life and this one is not as brutal as those are and she can handle it. Shewon so many battles after all. This one is not a battle because nobody wants tohurt her… Ah, family relationships have always been so difficult for her. Shehas always been a lone wolf and now she has to share her life with a sibling,it’s a stranger for her but well, their blood is the same. Maybe Tasha is justscared, everything happened so fast.

It’s time for her to behave like a mature person and have a conversationwith her sibling (Tasha has already spoken with Worf, Picard and Deanna forsome advice) but it’s time to speak with the only person who can give her someanswer: her sibling.

Actually, her sibling is very glad she has given to them a chance andthey want to be accepted by Tasha. They have always dreamt to meet her and whenthey heard she works in the Starfleet, they have decided to follow the samepath, hoping to meet her again someday and this day is finally came.

They have worked so hard and even their life has been difficult becausethey have lived traumas, too. And at that moment, Tasha realizes she has beenrude and they are still her sibling, they won’t let her down and they won’thurt her and so she has no reason to build walls between them.

Tasha understands it’s a chance to have a family and she won’t be alone.Yes, this starship is her home but having a sibling is different. They havespent their life searching for her and she has no reason to be mad.

At the end, she accepts them and she won’t feel so alone anymore. She’shappy and glad they have not given up on her and she won’t give up on themneither.