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disgruntledspacedad · 4 years

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Aftershocks (2/5)

The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader (Ears). Part of the Better Love ‘verse.

summary: That bomb fucked you up a little more than you thought. h/c, fluff.

words: 2.5k

warnings: 18+ - canon typical violence, lots of medical stuff in this one.

a/n: unbeta’d. I had a surprise day off, so enjoy the second installment of Aftershocks much sooner than I had anticipated. More notes to follow!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

You’re escorted beyond the heavy double doors of the emergency department in a hurry. It probably has a lot to do with Javi busting into the waiting area with you in his arms, flashing his DEA badge and barking out orders in irate Spanish.

Honestly, you wish he wouldn’t make such a scene. Sitting still in the car had allowed you to catch your breath a little. You feel like shit, sure, but you’re pretty sure you aren’t actively dying.

Try telling him that, though.

The triage room is little more than a curtain masking a dimly lit corner. You’re answering what questions you can in halting Spanish, but Javi can see that you’re overwhelmed.

“Ella habla ingles.” His tone earns him a dirty look, but the nurse nods, placing an oxygen probe on your finger and frowning up at the monitor. Both of you follow her gaze, noticing that the number reads 87.

“The doctor will see you soon,” she says carefully. Her English is heavily accented, and suddenly, you’re grateful beyond words that you have Javi here to translate. “Here. You’ll wear this.” She winds the oxygen tubing beneath your chin and around your ears. The oxygen is dry, burning your nose and making your face twitch in annoyance, but you can’t deny that you feel better with it on.

The nurse leaves you then, pulling the curtain closed behind her. Javi continues to stare at the monitor with his arms folded across his chest as the number on the screen climbs to 89, then to 92, the soft tone of the blips rising in pitch with each subtle improvement.

He’s thinking again, you can tell.

“Javi?” You reach for his hand, tugging at his fingers. Instinctively, you know that leaving him alone to stew right now cannot be a good thing.

He glances down at you, all dark, glittering eyes and terse expression, and worry clinches in your gut. “You okay?”

Javi snorts. “Really, Ears.” You can just see him fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s a hell of a question, coming from you.”

You decide to shoot for levity. “I’m great, thanks for asking.”

That earns you a pathetic, lopsided lip twitch. You count it as a win anyway.

The doctor never shows. Javi grumbles and broods. A little while later, somebody comes with a wheelchair to whisk you away for an x-ray, and no matter how much blustering and badge-flashing and protesting he does, Javi is told firmly to stay put.

He’s pacing agitatedly in the hallway when return. Apparently, it had felt like an eternity for him.

In reality, you’d been gone less than twenty minutes.

It seems that your x-ray has earned you some attention, because things start happening a little faster now. People are in and out, one nurse bustling in to wordlessly draw an entire fistful of little color coded tubes of your blood, another working on IV access in your opposite arm. You take it all stoically, caught between watching in fascination as the nurse tapes the catheter in place with practiced efficiency and wondering why all of this can’t just happen in one stick.

A little while later, the same nurse returns with a bag of fluid. “Seca,” she informs you as she stretches to hang it on the hook in the wall.

“She says you’re dehydrated,” Javi translates. His face is a stone wall, the subtle clench of his jaw the only hint of the emotion that churns beneath. You can just imagine him kicking himself for not making you eat or drink.

You bite back a shiver. The saline is cold in your arm.

They move you to a real room not long after that. It’s only marginally bigger than your corner in the emergency department, crammed with two rickey, uncomfortable beds separated by another dingy curtain. Thankfully, you don’t have a roommate for the moment.

You let Javi handle the paperwork as you change out of his sweats and into the itchy, open-backed gown that you’ve been provided with. Even with the oxygen, moving around still requires that you pause to catch your breath, and you’re grateful for the opportunity to sit when you’re done, even if the hospital bed you’re on is squeaky and uncomfortable.

Once the documents are signed and the nurses are gone, silence settles thickly between you. Javi is standing with his fingers fisted into his hips, glaring daggers at the clock on the wall. He hasn’t spoken in a long time.

Again, you feel that burning need to pull him out of his head. “Not really set up for visitors, is it?” you ask wryly. It’s a stupid, pointless thing to say, but you’re just trying to fill the void.

Javi glances around the room, raising his brows at what he observes. There’s no chair and no free space, nowhere for him to sit. Sighing deeply, he yanks back the curtain that divides the room and eases carefully onto the bed opposite of you, leaning forward with his arms folded on his knees.

You grit your teeth. Really, you wouldn’t have minded him settling down on your bed, but the more time you spend with Javi, the more you’re starting to realize that he withdraws when he’s feeling wrong-footed. As annoying as it is, the distance he’s putting between you is just par for the course, and it’s just not worth addressing right now.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly, pinning you with a sharp, assessing stare.

“Better,” you answer automatically, forcing some cheerfulness into your tone. Honestly, you’re far more worried about him than you are about you.

Javi raises a skeptical brow, clearly doubting you.

“No, really!”

Your protest makes him shake his head in dark amusement. “What am I gonna do with you, Ears?” he wonders aloud.

You’re ready to supply several very detailed answers to that question, all of them interrupted as your doctor finally breezes into the room.

“About fucking time,” Javi mutters under his breath as he rises to his feet.

“Hola, hola. I’m Dr. Perez.” Dr. Perez says, actually managing to sound a tiny bit apologetic. “Forgive the delay, por favor. I know it must seem that emergencies are the most non-emergent situation in the hospital, but, I promise you, we are working hard behind the scenes.”

You decide immediately that you like Dr. Perez. He’s not a big man, compact and clean cut, with just the faintest dusting of silver at his temples and a warm, genuine smile.

Javi must be thinking along similar lines, because he comes to stand just at the edge of your shoulder, looming dark and foreboding at your side as Dr. Perez approaches your bedside.

Oh, now you’ll stick close, you think fondly, trying to find a little amusement in Javi’s behavior. Everything about this situation is entirely new, totally incongruous with the cool, suave Javier Peña that you thought you’d known, and a malicious, possessive part of your brain is just eating up the implications.

“I understand you were involved in the bombing in downtown Bogotá, correct?” Dr. Perez’s grip is firm and cool as he shakes your hand.

“Yes, that’s correct.” You’re acutely aware of Javi standing stiffly beside you, watching your every move.

“Most unfortunate,” Perez shakes his head in a show of sympathy, and you manage to believe him. “And the breathing problems, they began later, no?”

“Yes,” you answer, surprised that he would guess with such accuracy. “I was okay afterward. Maybe a little bit sore. But not hurt.”

“Ella ha estado tosiendo sangre,” Javi interjects quickly. You’re not sure what he’s saying, but Dr. Perez’s eyes flicker in his direction, a swift, meaningful look passing between them.

“Veo.” Dr. Perez says smoothly. He frowns down at you. “And how for were you from the blast zone?”

You think back, willing yourself to relive the memory of the morning in clinical detail. “I was crossing the street,” you say slowly. “Headed home.” You do some quick mental math in your head, analyzing the width of Circular against the image of Emilio, waving. You’d been close enough to shout a greeting. “Forty feet. Maybe a little less.”

Beside you, Javi sucks in a sharp breath.

Perez purses his lips. “Sí, eso lo haría.” He crosses the room, flicking a switch to illuminate a bright white panel built into the wall that you hadn’t noticed before. He shuffles through your chart, pulling out a dark film and pinning it to the light.

It’s your chest x-ray. You can clearly see the curve of your ribs, stark white against the darker background of your lungs. In the middle of the film lies the dusky outline of what you assume is your heart. To the lower left, a patch of hazy, white blur mars the image.

“This is the problem.” Perez points to the blur. “Pulmones magullados. Your lungs are bruised, see? This is common in blast zone survivors. The change in air pressure when the bomb ignites causes an injury to the lung tissue. You are bleeding just a little bit internally.”

You can damn near feel Javi gritting his teeth at that.

“But I felt fine,” you protest weakly, looking assentingly at the blob on the x-ray. It’s a pretty good size.

“Sí, you were fine.” Perez is nodding along with you, like he’d expected the argument. “That’s normal with this type of injury. You felt good immediately afterward because the bruise was new, the bleeding slight. But the bruise has gotten bigger, and you have gotten worse.” He indicates the oxygen that you are wearing with a grim nod. “You are a very lucky, mi amiga, to have walked away from that. Muy afortunada. Had you been closer…” Perez trails off, shaking his head somberly. “It does not bear thinking.”

He claps his hands, startling you away from the grisly images stirring in your mind. “There is good news, though!” Perez gestures toward the x-ray as a whole, circling over it with his index finger. “I see no rib fractures, nothing collapsed. Your breathing might get worse before it gets better, but it will get better. We will keep you under close watch until then.”

“Keep me?”

“Sí, you will be here.” Perez pins you with a no-nonsense stare, as if to curtail any protests before they come. “There’s another matter. You have a small concussion as well. To this area, here.” He taps the back of his own head with his hand. “From falling down, yes?”

You nod. The area he’s pointing to is right where your head hurts most, where you’d fallen backward after the blast. “Yes. It did knock me off my feet.” Apparently a with a little more force than you’d initially assumed.

Perez hums. “We will monitor that as well. You do not take blood thinners?”

“No, sir. No medications.”

“Bueno.” Dr. Perez seems genuinely pleased by this. “You’ve made my job very easy.” He gathers the film and shuffles it back into your chart, flopping it shut with a flourish. “Rest for you, Orejas. Time and sleep will do the best healing.”

“Orejas?” you can’t help but ask. It’s the name that Emilio had used for you, but you’re shocked that Perez knows it.

Perez smiles. “I listen to my nurses. That is what they call you.”

“How much time?” Javi interrupts before you can respond. You’d nearly forgotten about him, as quiet as he’s been.

Perez turns to address him for the first time. “It depends largely on her body. The concussion is small, and won’t require anything in the way of treatment. Her lungs, though…” Perez frowns down at the closed chart with a furrowed brow. “The contusion is still developing. A few days, a week, perhaps? I can say more tomorrow.” He turns back to you, sighing in sympathy. “I’m afraid you’re in for a stay, mi amiga.”

Well, fuck.

With that, Perez disappears just as quickly as he’d arrived, soft, quick footsteps echoing down the hallway, and silence falls once again over the room.

Javi doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He’s standing very still, arms folded tightly across his chest with his thumbs digging into his armpits. The expression on his face is downright chilling.

Your blood turns to ice.

“What the fuck, Ears?” he says very slowly, enunciating each syllable with deadly precision.

You glance up, suddenly hesitant to speak. The little movement must be enough to spur him on, though, because Javi fucking explodes.

“Forty fucking feet!” he bites out, clawing angrily at his hair. He paces the tiny room, whirling as he runs out of space and pointing an accusing finger at you. “You told me you were across the street, Ears, not crossing it. There’s a big fucking difference.”

You blink at him, recalling the conversation you’d had in the embassy parking lot.

Shit, he’s right.

“Why the hell did you lie to me?” There’s a subtle warble in his tone, a flicker of devastation in his eyes that’s quickly masked.

Discomfort that has nothing to do with your injured lungs twinges in your chest. “I don’t know,” you answer miserably. You hadn’t thought of it as lying. At the time, you’d been overwhelmed by the situation and thoroughly confused by Javi’s erratic behavior, just desperate to get home and sleep off the worst morning of your life. “I didn’t want to upset you, I guess.”

Javi laughs sarcastically. “Well, you’ve done a fucking fantastic job of that, haven’t you?” He throws his hands in the air, like he’s had it up to here with your shit. “Coughing up blood all over my kitchen floor. Christ, I should have known.”

Okay, now he’s being a little dramatic - the only blood you’d coughed up had been into your fingers, after all, but the protest is lost on you as you look him in the face. Javi’s eyes are deeply shadowed, his expression pained, his hair standing wildly from where he’s run his fingers through it.

He looks thoroughly exhausted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, dropping your gaze to the floor.

Javi huffs and looks away, clearly not ready to accept any apologies from you.

You don’t blame him. Throughout this entire screwed up relationship, you’ve done an absolutely piss poor job of putting yourself in Javi’s shoes, and it’s coming back to bite you in the ass.

You deserve his irritation, and more.

Javi’s pager beeps, the shrill sound of it slicing through the tension. He snatches it roughly off of his belt, frowning down at the display with squinted eyes.

You glance up at the clock on the wall. It’s pretty late, but given the day Javi’s had, it’s not outrageous to assume that somebody would need to be in touch with him at this hour.

“I’ve got to take this,” Javi says tonelessly, hardly glancing up at you. If there’s any regret there, it’s buried very deeply. “I’ll see you later, Ears.”

He’s gone before you can get a word in edgewise.

♠

confessions/notes:

I speak one language poorly, and I’ve never extensively written a character who is not a primary English speaker (I’m not counting Javi here). Any critiques or corrections to my Spanish are very welcomed!

Up next: a look at things from Javi’s POV.

Spanish translations:

She speaks English.

Dry

She’s been coughing up blood.

I see.

Yeah, that’ll do it.

ears

tags:@jedi-mando, @perropascal, @aerolanya, @pikemoreno, @bitchin-beskar, @mostly-megan, @huliabitch, @starsandmando, @starlight-starwrites, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13, @yespolkadotkitty

Javier Peña tags: @magpie-to-the-morning, @tiffdawg, @danniburgh, @1800-fight-me

To my taglist peeps, I’m sorry for tagging you guys three times in 24 hours. Again, chaotic jay cannot plan anything, like ever.

#Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña #narcos #pedro pascal #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfic #reader insert #hurt/comfort #fluff #narcos netflix #narcos fanficiton #narcos fanfic #better love #aftershocks

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lsleofthelost · 3 years

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some of yalls headcanons are so painfully white, i gotta step in

• Aziz carries a bottle of hot sauce with him because the hot sauce at the cafeteria is barely mild by his standards

• He sees Jay drown his rice in the cafeteria one though, so he talks Jay into trying his one day and Jay is hooked

• At one point, he eats so much of it (breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, everything) that he gets allergies and has a rash on his skin and has to take meds

• Mal tries it and yeah, sure she likes it but she turns so red it’s embarrassing that she never touches it again

• Carlos straightens his hair a couple months after moving to Auradon just to see what it’s like but it seems like people treat him better when he looks like that, so it becomes a regular thing

• His senior year, he gets an internship at a vet clinic and the owner and his kid (a couple of years older than him) are black, and both of them wear their hair pretty short but natural

• He’s never really seen people not wear protective styles, black kids on the Isle either wore braids or got buzzcuts, and here, Maldonian princess wears a weave and Audrey’s hair is barely curly and that’s it

• He becomes close with the vet and his daughter, it’s hard not to. They are so warm and welcoming and offer a window to Auradon beyond the royal affairs and make him feel normal

• At one point, they try to save his hair and bring the curls back, but they were so damaged even before the straightening, they all decide to shave it off. It feels really good.

• Lonnie really tries to incorporate elements of Chinese fashion into her own style but let’s be real, she struggles with fashion

• Evie and her workshop a Pinterest board full of Chinese models and designers to take inspiration from that include Xiao Wen Ju, Du Juan, Heaven Gaia, Guo Pei, and shots from Wong Kar Wai’s movies

• Evie knows Spanish and consistently pretends to not speak English when she doesn’t want to answer

• “E, come on, I know that you finished the chem homework already, just let me take a look!!”

• “Que? Ah, no, no, no habla ingles.. lo siento!”

• Also, Evie cooks and so well but for the love of her she won’t be able to tell you a recipe. She just listens pours the ingredients and waits for her ancestors to tell her to stop

#jay spice story inspired by urs truly #black vet and his daughter adopting Carlos > Anita and Roger #lonnie i see what you’re trying to do with the fusion but come ooon #laila.txt #descendants #jahid ibn jafar #carlos #lonnie #evie #long post #genevieve grimhilde #carlos oscar de vil #jay

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y2fandom · 4 years

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Spanish. — Diego Hargreeves

Summary: Diego decides to help (Y/N) after seeing her struggle with Spanish at the library.

Word Count: 1.9K

A/N: Gosh it's been like, a million years since I wrote something pls go easy on me but feel free to tell me what you think feedback is always welcomed! (Also i lowkey based this of Sunrise from In The Heights so listen to it if you wanna)

I tried adding a read more but i don't have a computer so,,, yeah don't hate me if you come across this in your dash

—

Diego didn't frequent the library. He was honestly more of an action person than a sit-down-for-hours-reading person but he'd been stuck on a case and figured a little bit of background information wouldn't hurt. He'd come to find out not everything could be found out interrogating people on shady alleys.

He just needed to use the computers, there was a very slim chance books would have the information he needed.

Diego went to turn on the machine when something stopped him.

A groan. A deep and miserable groan followed by what sounded like thuds against wood.

Diego furrowed his eyebrows. He wouldn't have really minded if the noise hadn't come from directly in front of him. He stood up from the uncomfortable library chair to peer over the computer.

There was a table on the other side and a lady had her forehead pressed against the wood. Diego would've thought she was asleep if he didn't witness with his own two eyes how she resumed banging her head against the table. It was a wonder how her book stayed propped while the furniture moved.

It wasn't his business, but he'd caught the cover of the book by mere chance. Spanish 101.

"¿Necesitas ayuda?" What was he doing? He just needed some information and that was it, yet here he was talking to a stranger. Selfish motivations, he told himself, I only want her to stop the noise so I can concentrate.

The lady rose her head. Her hair was disheveled from her previous attempts at becoming one with the table. She looked cute, if not a bit confused. She looked at Diego.

He repeated his question.

She nodded slowly. "Yeah, I– sí."

Diego approached her table, slightly cringing to himself at how he looked. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in at least a week and he was dressed in all black. Not exactly a comforting sight.

"Name's Diego," he said, suddenly feeling awkward as she glanced up at him, "I saw you struggling with Spanish?"

She nodded, a shy smile creeping on her face. "I'm (Y/N), sorry if i disturbed you with my suffering, I know it's a library and you expect silence-"

Diego chuckled. "What made you want to learn Spanish?"

"I just wanted to learn a new language I figured it would be useful…" she trailed off, before adding under her breath, "if only it wasn't this hard."

Diego smiled. "I could help you, it's my mother tongue," or it would be, he added in his mind.

(Y/N) perked up at his suggestion. "You would do that?"

Diego nodded, ignoring the thoughts about work and information. He could afford to help someone who needed him. Work could wait.

She motioned for him to sit down.

"What are you having trouble with?"

(Y/N) let out a humorless laugh. "Just about everything really."

"Do you know how to introduce yourself?"

She bit her lip for a second before nodding, "Mi nombre es (Y/N), uh, soy (age)-"

"Tengo."

"Right, tengo (age) años, me gusto aprender-"

"Me gusta."

She nodded, surprising Diego. He'd expected her to be annoyed or to ask for a different method. Instead, she took his corrections in stride, applying them without any protest. "Me gusta aprender y conocer nuevas personas,"

Diego nodded. "You're very good, actually."

A pinkish tone dusted her cheeks. "You think so? I feel like I still have a long way to go and vocab is so hard-"

"I'm a little busy right now," the way she seemed to deflate at that made him feel a pang of guilt, "but i can help you study some other time?"

She brightened up again at the suggestion. "Yes! That would be perfect!"

"Do you have a number?"

She handed him a small piece of paper after writing in it. "Call me when you can Diego."

《 . . . 》

“No English?”

Diego nodded. He was trying to stay serious but her shocked expression made the corners of his mouth twitch. “No ingles.”

She whined. “But–” The look he gave her made her reconsider her wording, “pero Diego.”

“No buts.” He gave her a look. “The best way to learn is to practice.”

“Apesta,” she huffed.

“Esto apesta.” he corrected, a smug smile in his face in response to her pout.

“Bueno,” She sighed after a small silence, “I won't change your mind, right?”

“¿Qué?”

“I won't-”

“No hablo inglés,” he deadpanned.

(Y/N) glared at him. “Tú hablas inglés."

He smiled at her, proud that he didn't need to correct her. “Si hablo inglés.”

“Tú eres el peor," she groaned. And he was the worst, but he didn't care if he got to make her smile and learn.

“You still like me that way,” he teased.

Her cheeks tinted a lovely shade of pink but before he could comment on it her eyes gained a determined glint. "Quiz me."

Diego ignored her blatant disrespect of the rules he'd set. "Are you ready?"

(Y/N) nodded. "Creo."

"Esquina?"

"Corner."

"Tienda?"

"Store."

"Bombilla?"

"Lightbulb."

"Are you sure?"

She bit her lip, but nodded anyways. "I'm sure."

Diego smiled. "All correct."

(Y/N) mirrored him and smiled also, standing up in a swift motion. Yet whatever she had planned on doing was stopped by her phone ringing.

She gave him a quick glance before picking up. A few affirmative hums later she set her phone down. (Y/N)’s apologetic smile made his heart sink.

“Tengo que ir.” She seemed reluctant and it made Diego wish he had the words to convince her to stay. Instead, he said:

“Irme."

(Y/N) huffed, but the smile threatened to return to her face. “See you later, Diego."

And then she hugged him. Diego felt breathless for a second. She had never hugged him but she was doing it now. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before. She was warm and smelled so sweet it made him want to never let go. Then, too soon it was over. (Y/N) pulled away taking the warmth with her.

She smiled up at him. “Hasta luego, Diego.”

Diego watched her walk away. wondering how she had managed to take with her the warmth of the embrace but not the fluttering feeling on his stomach.

《 . . . 》

The sound of books being set on the table made Diego snap his head up. (Y/N) was wearing the biggest smile he'd seen on her and it made his stomach flutter.

"Hola Diego," she said, her voice sweeter and lighter than usual. Every syllable made his heart do somersaults.

"Hey."

"I have good news," she sing-songed, setting herself on the chair across him, "buenas noticias."

Diego nodded, letting her continue.

"He asked me out," she whisper-yelled, her eyes shining.

Being the receiver of that look full of warmth didn't help Diego; he froze. "Wuh..?"

(Y/N) pretended to hit her head. "Cierto," she said, "Remember I told you I had joined a class? To practice Spanish even more?"

Diego nodded, he'd felt slightly hurt when she had announced it. It felt like he wasn't enough. But instead of saying that Diego had smirked and told her she had taken long enough.

"Ok so, there's this guy in class, who I'm really into, his name is Marcus." The way she breathed his name felt like he was being stabbed with his own knives. "He's one of the most advanced people in the class and kind of the reason why I've wanted to improve so much in these last few weeks…"

Diego felt like she'd just punched him on the gut. All this time a small part of him had harbored the hope she was doing so good because he was teaching her, not because she was pushing herself to be good for someone else. He looked down to his coffee before nodding at her again.

"And now he's invited me on a date," she squealed, her smile growing bigger, "una cita."

He nodded again. "That's, uh, that's really cool."

Her smile softened. "¿Eres bien?"

"Estas." He corrected teasingly. Diego nodded. "Estoy cansado. I've been, uh, working late this last few days."

Her mouth parted in a "o" shape, the same way it did any time he mentioned his vigilante work. (Y/N) looked at him with a serious gentleness that reminded him of how Grace looked at him when he was younger. "You need to take better care of yourself, Diego, please."

How could he say no to her pleading eyes? Diego nodded. Getting ready to start their study session when his radio made a hissing noise. He glanced to (Y/N) and found her already looking at him. She nodded him to go.

“It's important.” she reassured him in a hasty hug. "We can study later, go save em."

He wanted to hate the way her voice made him giddy, he wanted to hate how he did a better job this time to make her proud of him, he wanted to hate that she had a date; but he couldn't. Diego was happy for her.

《 . . . 》

Diego waited in the agreed meeting spot. He cringed at himself at how fast he'd arrived, (Y/N) wasn't even there yet. He wanted to convince himself he wasn't far from the area but in reality, it was just that something seemed off. (Y/N)s voice had wavered a little when she'd called.

The sound of a parking car caught his attention and he looked at it until someone came out of it. (Y/N).

His heart’s first instinct was to leap and his stomach burst in a million butterflies. She looked stunning. Diego firmly believed she looked good in anything but the way her outfit made her look almost made his jaw touch the ground. That was before he noticed her expression.

She smiled sadly at him, her watery eyes reflecting the lights of the street. It was almost like she could see him realize.

“Hey.”

“Are you okay?” Diego asked, concern thickly coating his tone.

(Y/N) went to nod but stopped herself. She opened her mouth and then closed it again.

Diego reached for her, engulfing her in a hug. “You can tell me."

(Y/N) was silent for a second and then, "how do you say pain?"

Diego felt like she had a hand on his heart and she was slowly squeezing. "Dolor."

"Tonight?"

"Esta noche."

She hesitated. "Stood up?"

Anger started to simmer underneath Diego's skin. "Plantada?"

(Y/N) nodded against his chest. She look him in the eyes. the way the streetlight caught her tears made all the anger evaporate and be replaced by anguish. Who could've done something so rude to her?

She must've been able to read his expression because she said, "Marcus, he didn't show up."

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)."

She laughed a little but there was no mirth behind the sound. "It's okay, it's not your fault." She sniffed, not bothering to pretend she wasn't crying. "It's lame but it hurts because I wanted him to love me—"

"Perhaps I do…"

Her eyes widened. "Diego?"

"Lo siento, (Y/N). I have feelings for you and i know it's not the time but I just wanted to tell you because it hurts seeing you feel unloved and-"

And she kissed him. Just a small, almost-on-the-lips-but-not-quite peck. (Y/N) giggled at his shocked face.

"I like you, Diego."

Diego stuttered trying to find the right words to express what he was feeling at the moment. Nothing seemed to come out. Instead, he leaned over her and kissed her forehead.

"It's guh-getting cold, let's get you home."

#diego hargreeves x reader #tua x reader #diego x reader #diego tua x reader #the umbrella academy x reader #number 2 x reader #diego hargreeves #diego tua #tua #the umbrella academy #x reader

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rotationalsymmetry · 4 years

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General gripes about DS9 and gender (some spoilers) (content notes: some references to sexual abuse/trauma, and specifically spiritual abuse/sexual misconduct in religious leaders, also death/murder):

I swear to fuck these people do not know how to write female characters without shoehorning them into romance plotlines. (Or weird fucked up stuff, like when that Cardassian serial murderer kidnaps Kira.) Especially noticeable with Ziyal -- when Kira takes her to DS9, the writers apparently can't think of a single thing to do with a young woman other than ship her with a much older Cardassian. Then, she's starting to get her own life and make a name for her as an artist, and they fucking refridgerator her. The fuck. (And: the focus is on how her death affects Dukat, that fucker. Which, obviously sure it's going to affect him...but it's also going to affect Kira, who sees Ziyal as like a younger version of herself and was trying to protect her. And then Ziyal dies. That should have some sort of effect on Kira! And did no one else on the station make any sort of connection with her when she was there?) This is arguably not primarily a gender thing, but it is partly a gender thing: the show keeps demanding Kira find sympathy for her oppressors, over and over again. (This is a gripe fest: of course there's a lot of things about Kira's character that are done really well.) She keeps getting thrown in situations that show (some) Cardassians in more nuanced lights and that more or less force her into relationships with them, while meanwhile her old resistance cell friends all get killed off, her parents are dead, if she has any other family we don't hear about it, and she's basically left with no Bajoran friends even, as far as we know. She gets Bajoran lovers who... OK, about that. First, Vedek Bareil. Now, Bajorans are shown to have a pretty relaxed attitude towards their clergy (eg Kira is frequently rude to Winn even after she becomes Kai with apparently no consequences) -- but still. Vedek is roughly equivalent to, what, cardinal? He's high up in the heirarchy. And, he's put himself in a role of spiritual authority relative to Kira: she gets access to one of the Orbs through him. They've got a power imbalance and one that's connected to Kira's ability to do her religion. I don't care what the social norms are on Bajor that is 100% sexual misconduct on Bareil's part. If something went wrong in their relationship, it could fuck up Kira's connection to her faith. And in the show it's presented as no big deal.

(Star Trek seems to be aware of this when it comes to ship's captains! For all that Kirk notoriously fucks everyone, he never voluntarily (/outside of the mirror universe, outside of odd transporter malfunctions that split him into two parts, etc) came on to a crew member. But it's no less important for religious authorities.) (Also: this has nothing to do with celebacy. I'm fine with Bajoran religious figures being allowed to have sex and being allowed to have sex outside of marriage. But: a religious leader having a sexual relationship with someone who they're in a pastoral relationship to is wrong, and while Bareil isn't exactly Kira's pastor I think there is some level of, he's providing spiritual guidance to her. That means she's off limits to him, or should be. In the same way that bosses shouldn't fuck their direct reports, college professors shouldn't fuck their students, therapists definitely shouldn't fuck their patients, etc. Regardless of how they handle their sex life outside of those restrictions. And regardless of whether there's love involved or not -- romantic love absolutely does not make it better.) And then there's Shakaar, the former leader of her resistance cell. That she joined as a teenager. It's...yeah, it's been many years, yeah she's not directly under him any more, and yeah goodness knows a band of resistance fighters is probably not going to have a clearly written up sexual harassment policy so it's not necessarily unrealistic...it's not as blatantly "oh god no" as Bareil, but it's got some...is anyone thinking of potential abuse of power issues here? Anyone?

There was one episode where Jake and Nog were double-dating and it goes badly due to Ferengi, uh, gender roles not meshing well with Federation egalatarianism. And, then the rest of the episode is all about how they're going to repair their friendship. And I was thinking: we didn't see either female character either before or after, and why is a sexism issue being shown from the lens of "how can I, a nice guy, stay friends with my male friend who has sexism issues" and not "how am I, a young woman, going to deal with this affront to my basic personhood" or "how am I, a young woman, going to repair my friendship now that I talked my friend into a double date so I could date the guy I liked but his friend turned out to be garbage?" Like...out of all the potential relationships there, why is Jake's friendship with a guy with sexism issues (who's made it clear he's not going to change, at least as far as dating goes) the one presented as being in most need of preservation? I know, it's because Jake and Nog are more central characters and their friendship has been significant in the show for seasons now. But...that just brings up more questions. Like why does this show have a significant bro friendship between two teenage boys, but there's no friendship between two women (or between a woman and a man for that matter) that's given as much weight? There's some bonding between Kira and Dax, but it doesn't have the same presence and significance as Jake and Nog or, say, Miles and Julian. (I'm having first name/last name inconsistencies here. Ah well.) Keiko has no on-camera friendships. Kira has no on-camera friendships that have Jake & Nog or Julian & Miles weight. Dax maybe does with her Klingon buddies from Curzon's lifetime. (Benjamin Sisko also doesn't.) Ziyal could have, but doesn't. Molly could have, but doesn't. Miles doesn't seem to have any (on-camera or otherwise acknowledged) parent friends (like...there's one couple mentioned who can babysit Molly at times? That's it? We never even see them?), which is weird because fuck knows parenthood can make it hard to have any friends who aren't parents. Odo's got his weird frenemy thing with Quark. Garak has his standing lunch with Julian (if you read that as platonic, which ... yeah, there's not a lot of arguments for seeing it as platonic beyond "they're both men.") I am, don't get me wrong, extremely for showing male friendships. Very much for it. It's just...I want friendships that aren't between two guys also. And I want them to be shown as significant and meaningful and worth overcoming obstacles for. Friendships between women, friendships between people of the same race or culture (or alien species, since we are talking Star Trek here), friendships between men and women that aren't just a precursor to romance. And...parenting that isn't just...I want to see Keiko have problems with parenting that she overcomes with help from other people. I want to explore the emotional ramifications of Kira being a surrogate mom to Kirayoshi or being a semi adopted mom to Ziyal and then having her die. I want Kira to talk about how her own upbringing in times of famine and war and occupation affects her sense of her ability to potentially be a parent. I want a female character to calmly talk about her decision to not become a mother and have that decision be treated with the utmost respect. I want the sort of struggles that male characters have with parenting on the show, like Worf's difficulty connecting with his son or Benjamin's conflict over watching his son grow up and get less interested in spending time with his dad, be shown for female characters as well. And the joys, like when Benjamin remembers holding Jake as an infant, like when they reunite after Jake gets caught in a war zone. Rather than parenting be this thing that mom characters apparently do on autopilot without any internal conflict or feeling out of their depth or particular moments of joy and amazement. There's so many plot lines and moments and bits and pieces that could be amazing moments that give

mother characters balance and nuance and characterization, but they only ever get shown for fathers. (And this is not just Star Trek either...look at all the kids movies that are about father/son or father/daughter bonding, and somehow the moms...just aren't there. It's so good when there are single father storylines, just...where are all the mom storylines that could be like that?) And why do teenage boys get focus and their own stories (especially with Jake in DS9, but also TNG has Wesley Crusher and Alexander, and TOS had one story centering on a teenage boy) but girls either aren't there at all or don't get to have stories that are about them? Ziyal's stories aren't about her, she doesn't get to form her own friendships and only barely gets to develop an interest of her own before her life is taken away from her. Molly doesn't get stories that are about her. (And yeah, Molly's a lot younger than Jake, but those are still choices: DS9 could have been set when Molly was a teenager, or the show could have introduced a different teenage girl as a significant character, or Jake could have been a girl rather than a boy, or Benjamin could have had two children...)

#incidentally I have no complaints about how winn is written as a female anatagonist #she's a shitty person and an excellent villain #I have pretty tangled thoughts and feelings on dax #she's had a few really great episodes and it seems like her characterization is starting to make more sense since her relationship with wor #moogie is odd but satisfying as an older woman who lives life on her own terms under a highly patriarchal culture #ds9 #feminism #gender and media #women in media

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motleymoose · 4 years

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Homecoming Pt. 1: Astray, Ch. 1

Chapter 1

Stranded With Banthas

Fandom: The Mandalorian Characters: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin), Gender-neutral Reader Words: 2.8k+ Warnings: ??? Angst???

Summary:

Stranded on a bantha-filled, Imperial-controlled moon on the outer reaches of the galaxy, I would do anything to get off-world. But even the best-laid plans can go awry, and I have to settle for second-best, a living reminder of my childhood.

Notes:

***1ST CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED***

Hello! Thanks for stumbling upon my fic!! A few things before we get started: *I've never really been a fan of Star Wars (until the Mandalorian, that is) *I've only done a basic amount of research (please let me know if the stellar charts don't align or I've completely flub any major parts of the lore!) *If you're here for romance, this is probably not the fic you seek This fic is going to span several parts, so don't be disappointed if the chapter count is short. There is more, I promise! I have two more chapters in this part, plus half a dozen others waiting the wings for their time to shine. That being said, this is all lightly edited and more than likely contains several blaring mistakes I am currently blind to.

Thank you for hanging with me this far. I hope you enjoy it!

Homecoming Masterlist

I was hot, bored and out of credits.

Having been stranded on an Imperial-held outpost, stars away from almost any sort of proper civilization, it wasn’t exactly the worst thing that could’ve happened to me. I could’ve lost my hands or what little possessions I had, even been executed, but instead the captain and crew of the Momentum decided it was a fitting punishment to desert me on a moon positively crawling with Imps and bucketheads.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t luck that saved me. I was the unluckiest person in the galaxy. Having lost my family to a Rebel airstrike and then been abandoned by my caretaker at a young age, I’d had to fight tooth and claw for survival. I was a mechanic by trade, and a good one at that. My ability to fix things also gave me the knowledge to break them, and coupling that with my disregard to fighting fair, I could be one sticky situation to get rid of.

Not to say the crew hadn’t thought of ways to dispose of me. On more than one occasion, I’d had large, heavy objects barely miss my head as I puttered around below-decks or in the engineering pit. It was more often than I thought average for a mechanic to be almost killed by falling crates and crewmates, and after mentioning it to the captain, everyone agreed it was best if I just left the ship instead of continuing on as their blackthumb.

I’m not sure what exactly brought on their ire. There had been that bunkmate with whom I’d had a tumble or two, but as we both had agreed to part ways as distant friends. I didn’t see her as being a begrudging type, but there was a first for everything, and I wasn’t about to question the crew’s alliance when freedom seemed so close.

Maybe it would have been better to just poison everyone on the ship and abscond with the loot, but I wasn’t a pirate - or, actually, I wasn’t usually a pirate - and murdering everyone just because they pissed me off wasn’t on my list of fun activities.

Playing through the events that led me to the dusty rock I currently resided, I couldn’t help but kick myself for not getting the rest of my pay before being unceremoniously dumped in the dirt and bantha dung. I shifted uncomfortably on my perch of sweet-smelling hay bales in an attempt to not itch. It was impossible, as I had been settled on the bales since mid-afternoon, and there was hay in places I didn’t even want to think about.

I stared at the door of the single cantina, squashed between a rocky outcropping and the ruins of a Rebel-held base. Most of the regulars had found their way in, but I was more interested in the one that stood out from all the rest of the Imp sympathizers and bantha ranchers; a Mandalorian in full, shining beskar had landed in my neck of the woods, and I wanted to find out why.

If he was looking for me, well. I was going to have a hard time explaining the reasons I stole a slave ship from my boss and then let them loose on a newly-colonized moon on the Outer Rim. It wasn’t a good story, and I didn’t come out of it unscathed, but I did the best for those people with the tools I was given and I wouldn’t do anything to change the fact that I gave them freedom.

My boss didn’t look at it that way, and before I knew it, I was on all the wanted lists in the ruled galaxy. Which is why being on a no-named moon, surrounded by bantha pastures, was the least worst thing that could've happened.

Grumbling under my breath, I wriggled further into my little shelter. The sun was setting behind me, and the light cast an eerie rosy glow on the people closing up their shops for the night. The village was small compared to most, and smaller still for the amount of Stormtroopers and Imperial officials lurking about in groups of three or better. They patrolled the streets after dark in a guise of keeping peace and order, but everyone knew that they were planning something. No one knew what it was, but word had spread from neighboring moons that the Imps were flocking to the area. Nowhere was safe from the Empire’s reach, even when they were defeated and in shambles.

Once the sun went down all the way, the humid, oppressive heat would dissipate, leaving behind a damp chill that would last until the next dawn. Pulling a couple of loose flakes of hay on top of me for warmth, I propped my chin in my hands and waited impatiently for the Mandalorian to show himself again.

Near dawn, not long after many of the bantha ranchers had tramped from the warmth of their beds and to the ramshackle collection of barns and sheds out near the landing field - and thus downwind from the most of the community - the Mandalorian made his appearance.

Broad, square and sturdy, the warrior looked the part of the fearsome legends. His beskar was shiny, with barely a dent to be seen. The cloak he wore, although tattered and full of blaster holes, looked well-made, and the weapons he carried - a Westar-34 and an amban rifle - were clean and in good repair. Without a look back, he strode through the quiet thoroughfare and disappeared down an alley.

Well frag.

Other than just to quench my curiosity, what I wanted more than anything was a ride off this Imp haven. The Mandalorian would have a ship that could take me off-moon, and even if I was his quarry, it was better than rotting amongst the bantha kung. Stiffly vaulting from the stack of hay, I shook the kinks from my joints and sped after the Mandalorian.

Following the same route I saw him take, I trailed the warrior to a set of squat, ovoid huts. He’d disappeared inside, and once more I waited impatiently, but this time in the shadows of a woodshed. From time to time, I touched the amulet hanging from the thin silver chain at the base of my throat, reassuring myself the body-warmed pendant was still there. This Mando wasn’t the first one I’d ever laid eyes on, as my caretaker had been of the Way. He had taught me what he could before he left me, a solid, steady protector fleeing into the night. The thought of him still hurt, but it had been years ago, many parsecs in the past, and it was easier to push down and out of the way of more important emotions.

My nerves ticked upwards when I caught sight of the warrior in the window of the foremost hut. Heart fluttering and stomach in my throat, I took slow, smooth steps farther back into the shed until I was pressed up against a mouldering wood pile. I watched, caged and frozen as the Mandalorian stayed in the frame of the opening for a few more minutes. Head spinning, I released a hiss of a sigh and began to take slow, deep breaths to calm myself. I wasn’t going to do myself any favors by passing out before I could find out where the Mando was headed.

As the minutes dragged on, I continued my deep, even breath until the blanket covering the hut opening twitched and the Mandalorian stepped out. I took a few more breaths, biding my time to make sure he had a head start on me. ------ It was a long ambling walk to the outer reaches of the small farming village. My nose was clogged from the stench of moofs, and I’m pretty sure that was bantha droppings and not mud I’d stepped in a while back, but I kept my pace to a casual walk. From the looks of things, the Mandalorian was headed for the shipyard. Not a surprise, but I figured he’d’ve stayed a little longer. Either way, I was going to get a ride on his ship. Eagerness gnawed at my guts and my legs, but rushing would call attention to me, and I didn't really want to be noticed.

At the last set of farm buildings before the vast openness of the docking ports, I paused to watch a group of younglings chase an aired up moof bladder. There was a skirmish, a pile of small wriggling bodies, and then a shriek of triumph as a tiny Trandoshan Ingling held the dusty bladder above its broad scaly head. It hissed a shrill challenge at its companions, and they all fell about the place giggling and scrabbling for the champion.

I smiled at their innocence, watching for a minute longer as the group split into predetermined teams, and the game began again. Pivoting away from the revelry, I dodged between two outbuildings, bantha barns from the smell of them. Looking over my shoulder one last time, I turned to stroll down the empty alley.

That’s when I ran into the Mandalorian. Or, more correctly, his outstretched arm.

The breath knocked out of me, a bruise blooming across my chest, I lay in the dust with the trash and the dung at the feet of the Mandalorian. Staring up dazedly, I gasped painfully and brought a shaky hand up to rub the grime from my face. My other hand palmed the short dagger tucked into the straps of my cuisses. The plan was to stow away on the ship, but plans changed, and getting clotheslined in a dirty alleyway happened to change those plans for the worse.

“I don’t want to have to kill you,” I finally hissed. My chest felt heavy and my breathing was short as I brought the palmed dagger up to my chest, next to the pendant. “But I will if you ever do that again.”

The helmeted head angled sideways and the Mandalorian took me in. “I am ordered by the Guild to bring you in,” he rasped, tossing a puck onto my stomach. A hologram image smiled goofily back at me, all of my identities, crimes and locations printed plainly underneath.

Raising my head up to look at it, I grimaced and fell back into the dirt. “Frag.”

The neat scroll under my beaming hologram face told anyone who knew how to read that I was a notorious pirate who’d stolen a cargo-full of indentured servants from an innocent merchant to sell on the slave market.

Not completely untrue, but just enough so that it made me angry.

“It’s kinda hard to be a pirate of any sort when I don’t even have a ship, much less one full of supposed indentured servants,” I muttered to no one in particular. “I’ll accept the charges of stealing that ship and rescuing the people on it, but I’m drawing a line at ‘pirate’ and ‘slaver’ and ‘innocent merchant’s indentured servants.’ My boss is anything but blameless, and the servants were innocents tricked into slavery. I couldn’t not help them.”

The Mandalorian grunted solemnly and bumped my shoulder with the steel toe of his boot.

“Alright, alright. I’m getting up,” I replied, deftly sliding the tiny dagger into the sleeve of my tunic before holding my hands up and getting to my knees. The law was not on my side, never had been. But there was a small chance I could talk, or fight, my way out of this. I bowed my head, wishing mightily that I knew a little more about hand-to-hand combat. I’m okay with knives, but when I only had a small dagger to start a fight with, even I knew that I was no match for a fully-geared Mando.

I took a bit longer than necessary, slumped on my knees with my head down, silently assessing the situation at hand. More than likely, my two-timing bantha fodder boss Mihcas put out a bounty. And it wouldn’t surprise me if he’d indicated he’d rather have me dead than alive; I’d freed a bunch of his cargo on a rebel-held moon, completely destroying both of our reputations and saving the lives of a dozen people destined for hard labor on one of the Imperial exo-planets. Half of them had been children, for Force’s sake. It didn’t sit right with me to send a bunch of younglings to their subsequent deaths when their biggest crime was existing. So when I had the chance to make a difference, I took it by the balls and jumped into hyperdrive right across the nose of my boss’s ship. It was reckless, but the scream of rage that came on the radio before I left him behind was priceless.

Any idea I had for escape flew from my head when the Mandalorian picked me up by the neck and shoved me into the mudbrick barn’s wall. My head banged painfully against the reddish yellow stone, and I felt the tiny dagger slip from my sleeve to clatter harmlessly to the ground. The hand crushing my windpipe flexed in irritation, and I found myself lifted off my feet. The newly-risen sun gleamed an angry red off the bounty hunter’s helmet. I couldn’t help but squint as I scrabbled for purchase against the wall, fingertips and knuckles bloodied and raw when I finally brought them around to grasp his wrist.

A blaster appeared suddenly, digging into my ribs, its quiet hum letting me know it was charged and loaded. Not that I could do anything about it. Black spots danced in my vision from the lack of oxygen going to my brain, so it was easy for me to ignore little things like a gun shoved in my belly in favor of more pressing issues. Like not losing consciousness.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold,” the Mandalorian threatened, fingers tightening around my throat.

Opening my mouth, I tried to form words, but my brain had a difficult time remembering even the most basic tasks. The bounty hunter squeezed his fingers one more time before letting go. I landed on my knees, panting open mouthed. It took a moment for me to regain all the proper motor functions, allowing the oxygen stinging my damaged throat to resaturate my bloodstream and sharpen my addled brain. The Mandalorian stood a few feet away from me, left hand resting on his belt buckle while the other held the blaster at his side. He seemed relaxed under all that armor, but the fingers of his left hand tapped an impatient tattoo on his belt.

Sucking in all the air I could before it went out of style, I closed my eyes and concentrated on steadying my racing heart.

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out.

The Mandalorian cleared his throat.

Right. That.

In a false attempt to stand, I stumbled against the barn wall and fell back to my hands and knees in the dust, landing hard and awkward so’s not to alert him to anything fishy. Like retrieving my knife. It was stealthily tucked into one of the many pockets on the leg of my jumpsuit before I actually tried to stand.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. This hunter had less patience than me, which was saying something. Straightening upright, I pushed off the wall one-handed until I was face-to-face with the bounty hunter. I pasted the most innocent grin on my face I could conjure up at the moment, spreading my hands wide in front of me, palms out to show that I harbored no ill-will or weapons.

“I am not the pirate you seek.” I widened my eyes in what I hoped was a trustful look.

“Hands. Now.”

“I guess you did take my breath away, but don’t you think it’s a little soon to walk out in public together?” I teased humorlessly before complying. Hands out, wrists together, don’t make any sudden moves or relax any muscles. “Would it help if I told you my evil twin made me do it?” Not exactly a lie, since half the things I did were under the influence in one form or the other. “I’m by no means innocent of some of the things you're accusing me of, but more than half of that is made up or exaggerated beyond belief.”

The cuffs were roughly locked into place, and I flexed my hands experimentally. They were tight, but not so much so that I’d lose feeling in my hands later. It’s a small thing to be glad that this bounty hunter showed a little kindness with my bonds.

“Move,” the bounty hunter said, jabbing me in the ribs again with the blaster.

The hot, boiling rage that had built up over the last few weeks bubbled up the back of my wounded throat. I swallowed it loudly. “I don’t know where you want me to go.” Not exactly the truth, but he didn’t need to know that.

Sighing heavily, the Mando put a gloved hand on my shoulder, shoving me none too gently in the direction of the docks.

Cursing my luck, I looked blankly at my original destination. “More than one way to skin a womp-rat, I guess,” I muttered under my breath, and began the uphill trek to a ship that would hopefully make good on its promise to get me the frag out of here.

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hockeylvr59 · 5 years

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Talk dirty to me-with Josh Anderson for the song blurb

This took me a year and a day…but I finally came up with something for this that I’m actually semi-happy with. (564 words) It should be obvious but I don’t own the song lyrics…

_______________________________

Applying bright red lipstick, you gazed at the reflection of yourself in the mirror as a dozen girls laughed and moved frantically around you. Your now cherry red lips went incredibly well with the silver eyeshadow that Becca had applied to your face just minutes before. It wasn’t a thought that you had often but right now you could honestly look at yourself and say that you looked hot. The adrenaline was already pumping through your body and you bounced anxiously awaiting the moment you could step onto the stage.

Most people in your life had no idea that this was something you were involved in and that was perfectly alright with you. This was something fun for you to combat the stresses that filled the rest of your life. It was an escape and you didn’t need anyone else’s approval or involvement. You did have one friend coming today and you couldn’t wait to see the shocked look on his face.

Within minutes of finishing your makeup, you were taking your place on the stage just waiting for the music to start and the curtain to rise. Excited whispers filled the air around you because after months of practice, finally all of your hard work was coming down to this moment. The second the sound of the bass filled your ears, your body started rocking naturally, your muscle memory kicking in and working through the steps you’d done thousands of times.

I’m that flight that you get on, international

First class seat on my lap girl, riding comfortable

‘Cause I know what the girl them need,

New York to Haiti

I got lipstick stamps on my passport,

You make it hard to leave

Your hips flowed with the music as you made your way around the stage, blowing a kiss to the audience as the song mentioned lipstick stains. Your movements were both sensual and upbeat and you felt your smile grow even as you kept a flirty look on your face.

Been around the world, don’t speak the language

But your booty don’t need explaining

All I really need to understand is

When you talk dirty to me

Talk dirty to me

Get jazzy on it

You couldn’t see the audience well through the stage lights but there was one face in particular that stood out to you. He was sitting next to your friend Seth and his eyes were wide as he watched you. You weren’t surprised to see him, Seth had mentioned dragging a few teammates along but you were surprised by the look in his eyes.

You know the words to my songs

No habla ingles

Our conversations ain’t long

But you know what is

I know what the girl them want,

London to Taiwan

I got lipstick stamps on my passport

I think I need a new one

Knowing that he was watching you had you playing things up even more and as the song finally ended and you came to your final pose trying to catch your breath you could finally see the look of lust in his eyes.

Rushing back to the dressing room, you worked to change clothes so that you could meet up with Seth and his friends for drinks. And if Josh’s look told you anything…talking dirty wouldn’t be the only thing happening tonight.

#josh anderson #josh anderson imagine #columbus blue jackets #columbus blue jackets imagine #cbj #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #blurb #songblurb #Anonymous

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mywalkintofreedom · 4 years

Text

Life at west Main Street- part 5

When I think about the first months of Ezra’s life, I look at it as a time where we learned some of the most valuable lessons in life. When he came into our lives we were no longer living just for ourselves, I guess is how I could describe it.

I remember a lot of things just became less important, or didn’t seem like they were that big of a deal anymore. I remember Micah saying “I feel so small now, and like I know so little about life”. It might be hard to believe, but the season we were in, living where we were living, there couldn’t have been a better time for us to have our first son enter into our world.

When I look back, our circumstances, our finances, our living environment, I’m glad they were the way they were. Why in the world would I say that? Because it was these things that caused us to make life changing decisions at the most important stage of our journey, when we had a newborn, and that we learned things that we otherwise wouldn’t have. Never ever despise small beginnings, it was our foundation. It also made that we learned to depend on God for our every need, not just for ourselves, also with our child. I didn’t know what it was like to be statistically poor, or to have to wait to buy a piece of meat, to not be able to buy new clothes. I’m saying “statistically” poor, because if you looked at our income, we were poor. BUT, we weren’t poor in spirit, we were richer than we had ever been. I remember food never tasting as good as it did in that season. We bought good food, and it was just enough for what we needed. We would often look at each other and say “I feel so rich”. We lived in our apartment for about a year and a half, and because we lived here for so long, living “primitive”, I guess is how I could describe it, became a part of our mindset and foundation that we built our family on. Watching how God took care of our needs, gave me great hope that He would help us take care of our son.

Some of my dearest memories at west Main Street were probably the early hours of the morning. I treasured every second I got to spend with Micah, and honestly still do. Maybe it’s because we had a long distance relationship before we got married, that was definitely part of it. But to be in the company of one another was and just is the best, especially in that time. Micah and I would get up early every day and he would make us coffee and we would sit down and read the Word together. We had been reading together every morning since the day we got married. I’m sure many know this, but proverbs has 31 chapters, so it’s perfect for reading “the chapter of the day”. We did this for years.

We would read while we had Ezra in his squeaky rocker that Micah would rock back and forth with his foot. Often this was at 5:00am after his first feeding. Ezra would listen and eventually fall asleep to us taking turns reading out loud. I can still hear the squeaking of that rocker like it was yesterday in the early morning hours as the sun rose through the trees.

There had been many months of reading together where I just sat through it and wasn’t feeling anything and wasn’t getting any revelations and often didn’t even feel like reading, until then. It wasn’t until the first months of Ezra’s life that the Word of God started to explode. I was having so many revelations in this time, and Micah did as well. It’s like all of a sudden I understood parts of scripture that I had read my whole life or was seeing things I never saw before. I remember craving the Word, wanting to be in it. We had bible studies together and we made decisions on how we were going to raise our family, and how we were going to keep our home spiritually clean.

Micah was 19 when we got married, and I had just turned 20. I don’t think I had ever shared our age in my other blogs, so there ya have it. We knew we were for each other. I knew before he was even my boyfriend, and so did Micah.

By the time Ezra was born, Micah was 20 and I was 21. So yeah, we were still young chickens. I still felt like a teenager in a lot of ways. Still immature in a lot of areas of our life. But we had the privilege of growing up together, which we still are, and I don’t regret being that young at that time. We might not have always made the right decisions, but does anyone always make the right decisions? We may or may not have bought pizza with our last pennies too many times than I can count, and then had to eat plain bread in the following days until pay day. But we did always learn from them. (except for the pizza situation, we never seemed to learn from that one.) We always wanted to do Gods will for our life. I honestly don’t know where we would be today if God hadn’t been the One guiding us.

I remember getting to the point where I felt like life was starting to settle down a little, or so I thought. I think it was late July, but I don’t remember exactly. One afternoon, Micah came home for lunch and he had an interesting look on his face. I could tell, like I always can, that there was something he needed to tell me. Lunch hour had nearly passed, I think, when he finally said “well, I quit my job” (!) My brain couldn’t really comprehend what it had just heard. In full surprise I said “you did WHAT!?” He quit his job. I thought maybe he meant he decided he wanted to, or was planning to, but no, he had already gone to his boss and done the deed. His job was our only income, by the way. He explained to me all the reasons why he had quit, and that he felt it was time to move on to something else... and the entire time all I could think was “you didn’t discuss this with me”. I was furious about it, actually. I mean I was upset that he gave up our income, of course, but I was more upset that he made the decision without me.

In fact, I was so upset that I didn’t talk to him for nearly two days. I wasn’t trying to give him the silent treatment, I just knew that if I would open my mouth I would probably end up getting really angry, and say things I shouldn’t (I had a good amount of experience with this). After two days when I felt my anger had cooled off, some, I told him exactly what I thought, but calmly. I told him that I thought it was not a good idea. I told him that I thought that he needed to have something else lined up before he could quit. And most of all, I told him that he hurt my feelings by not involving me in that decision before he went and made that decision by himself. Then I told him that I would support him in his decision and walk beside him, and help him in any way I could, because he is after all my husband, but that I most certainly was not in agreement. He repented to me for not including me in the decision and said he saw that that was wrong. This was actually a big learning moment for both him and me, for me, because I had to make a choice not to let that anger take root in my life which would then create a breech.

But he didn’t change his mind, which I hoped he would. We shared it with several friends, and I stood beside him and did not share with anyone that I didn’t agree. He had one more week of work and then he would be done. There was a goodbye party at work and everything. They had made him a cake and cards, the whole shebang. I remember thinking, “oh my word if he does change his mind this will be interesting”.

Please know that Micah’s heart was never to do the wrong thing. He had been faithfully working at a job that didn’t fulfill him for almost a year at this point. He often talked about wanting to do something different, but the open door just hadn’t come yet. It’s a journey, learning to hear God and His will for your life. It’s not always easy. Micah was learning, and he had an open heart, always.

We searched for different work for him, but we didn’t have any success. I prayed that God would show him the right thing to do every day. I firmly believed his time wasn’t done yet at his old job, but also had to be open to trusting God if it was. After some council on his decision with friends, and conversations between him and I, he eventually humbly went back to his boss and asked him if he could have his job back. This definitely wasn’t easy, but he did feel it was the right thing to do. I was so proud of him. He recognized he had made the wrong decision and had gotten ahead of God. His boss had already hired someone else on, so he wasn’t able to take Micah back full time. In a way this was okay, and a consequence that we had to accept, it gave Micah an opportunity to do some other work on the side that he’d enjoy more.

So between that summer and January of 2016 he worked several days a week at the car dealership, and then the other days he did odd jobs. God still provided for us. You know, even if you make a mistake, you repent and you move on, it doesn’t mean God abandons you.

One event that really made an impression on both of us happened at the Ingles supermarket. We were really tight this week. Like really tight. We had to pay something that set us back, I don’t exactly remember what, I wish I did. I remember we really didn’t know how we were going to eat this week. We needed a miracle. We had $10, and decided that we would get a few essential food items and that Micah would walk to work. Micah was always the optimist, he would tell me “don’t worry, God WILL provide”. Sometimes his optimism would irritate me, and I would say “how the heck can you be calm about this!?” But, the reality is, his trust in God has truly taught me a lot. We decided “okay let’s pray and ask God”, we had prayed that God would provide for us, and make a way for us to be able to buy ALL the essential food we needed for that week and put gas in our car.

It was a Sunday afternoon after church. We always took the mini cart at Ingles, because we wouldn’t buy a lot. We had Ezra’s car seat on the mini cart, and we would put our groceries in the section below. We were only getting like three things. While we were there we saw someone we knew. This person jokingly bumped into Micah “on accident” to say hi. We chatted for a bit, and Micah said “yeah just doing some groceries for the week”. This person looked at our cart, and then he looked at us, and said “in that?” We were like “yeah we don’t need too much, we put everything down there at the bottom, it works great”. He then looked at me and said “why don’t you go get a bigger cart”. I was like.. uhh.. ok.. sure. When I got the cart, this person started filling up our cart with all sorts of groceries, and told me to pick out everything we needed. I still get emotional even writing this down. I was very hesitant putting things in, we had been calculating everything so long, just throwing things in the cart was not something I was used to. This was one of the most meaningful things I personally ever encountered. His wife was there too, and also asked me questions, like what I liked to eat, and things like that, and she then would put it in the cart. I remember he put a bottle of fancy sparkling grape juice in the cart, and different extras that we never bought, but would think about buying sometimes. Micah always wanted to do special things for me but we just couldn’t afford it, he always told me that’s why this meant so much to him. He put expensive cheese in the cart, he put a jar of Nutella in the cart (🙂). And meat, wow meat for every day of the week, plus extra. A lot of things that I really liked that he didn’t know I did. I remember really just not knowing what to do, and he kept nudging me saying things along the lines of “come on, is that all?” “What else?”

We went to the checkout, and even there I was thinking “what’s going to happen now?” Is he going to leave and let us pay for it?😂 We had never filled up a belt with this much stuff. They paid for everything.

We walked out of the grocery store and said bye, and of course THANK YOU. We went to the car, and when we got the groceries loaded we sat down and looked at each other. “What just happened?!” Like seriously, “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?” I remember Micah raising up his hands and praising God, thanking Him. Our miracle happened, God provided, the same day, not just the necessities, more than what we needed for that week. We headed to the gas station and used the money we were going to get those few groceries with, and filled up our car.

I had a routine, every day I would take a long walk with Ezra to Micah’s work and then we would all drive back home for his lunch hour. This walk took me about 45 minutes the first time I did it, but I got faster and I remember the last time I took that walk it took me 35 minutes. Often people would stop and ask if I needed a ride, and they always were very surprised when I’d say that we were just taking a walk. During my pregnancy my feet had grown half a size, I had no idea this was even a thing, but it can happen, and happened to me. This meant that all my shoes were too small, and would make my legs hurt and knees. One time we had extra money so we went to Goodwill to look for shoes for me. We found these tan Toms for the exact money we had, they looked brand new. I wore these Toms every day until it had holes in both front and back, I loved them.

My walk was my favorite part of the day, it made the morning go by faster. The outside air was necessary for me to keep my spirt lifted, and it did. The stroller I used was the stroller we had gotten from our babyshower. I remember the wheels were starting to peel by the time we moved out of west Main Street, because of how many miles I had walked with this stroller. I also walked up the hill to the library every day.

My spirit had never felt more alive. I still didn’t have any distractions in my life, and the main thing I noticed when I didn’t have a phone for more than a year is that my brain was much less occupied with other things. It was very quiet and peaceful, I guess I could say. I had space in my head, if that makes any sense. We were gifted a gift card to Hobby Lobby by a family member, so we bought paint brushes, canvasses and paint and yarn. I set up this little corner in our apartment where I would paint almost every day while Ezra took his naps. I really enjoyed doing it, although I really don’t think I was any good at it😂 I also learned how to crochet and would make hats and scarves for Ezra. I also crocheted scarves for different family members.

In that September we went to Kentucky for three weeks for Micah to work with his dad. Ezra was 4/5 months old at this time. I would say that the breastfeeding struggles were at its peak in this time I think. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to throw in the towel and exclaimed to Micah that I was done, (even though I never really meant it), that I couldn’t do it anymore. He was having major blowouts and rashes and screaming fits, Ezra that is, not Micah. That’s honestly what I remember the most of that trip. But I was getting close to my breakthrough even though I didn’t know this of course. While we were in Kentucky, we planned a trip for me to go to The Netherlands with Ezra. I’m pretty sure my parents provided a ticket for me and Ezra (infants fly for free). Micah wasn’t able to come. A ticket was booked and after the three weeks in Kentucky were over, we headed back home.

Not too long, maybe a few days after we had gotten back home from Kentucky, we were headed to the airport. I so wanted Micah to be able to come with me, but that just wasn’t an option. I moved to the United States when I was 14 weeks pregnant on November 4th of 2014. It was now late October of 2015, so it had been a year since I had been back and since I’d seen most of my family. Most had never met Ezra.

I remember being very nervous about flying alone with Ezra for 9 hours, and about nursing sitting next to other people. (I mean you basically sit on each other’s lap in an airplane) They allowed Micah to escort me all the way to the gate, they gave him a special pass, it was so special. Goodbye at the gate was hard, we hadn’t ever been separated from each other since we had been married. I was going to be gone for three weeks.

When I got in the airplane the flight attendant saw I had Ezra and said she wanted to find me a good spot. (Before I had left Micah had prayed for people to step in and help me when I needed it) I had an entire row to myself. A nice guy also offered to carry all my luggage. Ezra did phenomenal on the plane, he didn’t cry once. He slept well and nursed well, and stole all the flight attendants’ hearts. It really felt like a God-thing. They said they had never had a baby do that well on a flight, it made me feel good, but I thought they probably said that to every mother😄

My time in the Netherlands was good. It was very very strange to be back. I felt like a different person, and like I was looking at what I’d known my whole life through different eyes. I wasn’t the same person I was when I had left, while pregnant, a year ago. A lot had happened. It was also when I was back, that I realized how primitive our life really was. I also remember unpacking my suitcase, and for the first time in months I smelled the real smell of our apartment again. I hadn’t smelled that smell since I had prayed that one time, and all of a sudden I realized that that was what our stuff smelled like. Still the muffy cigarette smoke smell.

After three weeks it was time to go back home. It was hard to leave, but I was leaving home to go back home. Both felt like home, so I had my peace about it, and was excited to see Micah again. On the flight back, I also ended up in an empty row with Ezra.

It was the Sunday morning after I had gotten back from Europe. We were getting ready to go to church. I was still having issues nursing, and this morning things were not going well again either. I was just so upset. I told Micah I wasn’t going. I really had rarely missed a service but the enemy was really resisting this morning. Micah eventually convinced me to go and God knew I was supposed to be there, and so did the enemy, so the enemy really tried hard that morning to keep me home.

When we got there, we sat down all the way in the back where we always sat. I remember holding back tears because I was just struggling this morning and so done with my nursing journey and feeling like such a failure. I honestly wasn’t hearing anything that was being said.

All of a sudden our pastor stopped talking. He started walking through the rows, and we were all following to see what he was doing and where he was going. Next thing I know, he is walking straight towards me all the way in the back. He stops in front of me, and he looks at me in my eyes and says “I love you, I am so proud of you, you are a good daughter” and then he gave me a hug, a long hug. I broke, I completely broke, how did he know? How did he know I was feeling like a failure? How did he know I was struggling? How did he know I needed to hear this? How did he even see me all the way in the back of the church? I cried, I couldn’t help it, it all came out. He cried with me. We looked into each other’s eyes crying.

It was a life changing experience. I received a piece of God’s love that day. I received a piece of confidence. I honestly don’t even know what happened, but it changed me, and it changed my journey. I wouldn’t even be able to explain exactly what changed and what happened. My nursing journey changed after this too. I figured out what was causing my struggles and had a peaceful journey from then on and never struggled again. But even before I figured it out, it changed. It was a night and day difference.

At the end of the year Micah was hired back on full time at the car dealership. Before he got his job back full time, he was doing a side job for someone. It was around Christmas time. The fun thing about side jobs was that I often was able to come with him with Ezra. I remember this particular time he had finished the job and we were saying goodbye. Right before we left, this person paid Micah and said “merry Christmas,” and put 100 dollars in his hands. This was much more than what had been promised!

It was the beginning of the year now, 2016. The apartment was still as cold as it was the winter before. We were sharing a room with Ezra, he was 8ish months old by now. We decided to move our bed into the dining room (which was about the same size as our bed) and let Ezra have the bedroom. It was mainly because he would wake up often when we’d come in at night, and I didn’t like not being able to to talk before bedtime. It honestly changed everything. We loved having the bed there, and it made it feel so cozy. We would put the space heater in his room at night and it would stay decently okay. We had a lot of blankets covering his windows and it was a smaller space so that helped. Whenever we’d put the space heater back into our main space where our bed was in the morning, I remember it always showing crazy low temperatures. It was like we were camping in our own house, in the winter. I slept in my bathrobe with lots of blankets and it honestly wasn’t that bad, but do remember my nose getting cold😂. I remember thinking, “I’ll look back on this one day”. With Georgia being Georgia, the difference in temperature between day and night was always big, so the day time was much better. Eventually we had two space heaters, and different curtains, really thick and long curtains, which helped a ton to keep it steady around 60-65 degrees. I think the windows were the main issue, they were really old and you could feel the wind come through them when you’d sit next to them. That’s why the different curtains made such a big difference.

It was around this same time that we were asked to house sit for some people which was a huge blessing, because it meant that we would sleep in a heated house. God knew. We would house sit a week, maybe once a month. I do remember it being harder to go back to the apartment in the day time, because the difference in temperature was so big between their house and our apartment.

It was also in this time that I finally got a phone! My dad had given me his old phone while I was in The Netherlands, and we were able to finally get it to work with Straighttalk. This of course changed a lot for me. Where before I had needed to walk to the library to ask Micah something, I now could just text him. It was wild. I hadn’t had a phone for a year and a half. I also had more opportunities for fellowship because it was easier to text people. At the same time it also conflicted me, because phones can be such a distraction.

Micah was working full time at the car dealership, and he was also working on Saturdays for someone else at this point. Often he made over hours at the dealership. I remember the last few months being rough. He was gone a lot. We were starting to think about moving, and I was starting to really want to move. Ezra was moving around now and there wasn’t a lot of space for him. We also wanted to have more children. It was towards the very end of our season at West Main Street that we were having a little extra money here and there, because Micah was working a lot but also, because we were getting finished paying off our midwife, our loan and my greencard. Micah and I made a deal, that every Saturday after he got done working, we would eat out somewhere cheap, while getting our groceries. We would turn grocery shopping into a date. It was the absolute highlight of my week.

I was working through discontentment, and I continued to be reminded to be faithful with the little things. My prayer always was for God to help me take good care of what we had. I remember thinking “how can He entrust me with more, if I’m not taking care of the little that I have”. “How can he entrust me with better, if I’m not thanking Him and grateful for what I have right now”. And I would actively thank him for our home when I felt discontent and ungrateful, sometimes against everything I was feeling. Our neighbors would often wake up Ezra from his naps, they would stand right next to his window and holler at one an other and I would feel so done. Ambulances woke him up frequently as well. I hadn’t ever imagined living there still at this point, and did struggle with it. I prayed for months that God would bring us to a different place and provide a different place for us to live and grow our family.

The neighbors who lived in the basement, with the grandparents upstairs, in the house next to us had moved out. There was a sign that it was up for rent. We went to go look at it. When we walked in, it was the most filthy space I had ever encountered. There were hundreds of dead cockroaches (and I’m not even exaggerating), and the carpet was so gross, there was still some furniture left with rips everywhere. We also looked at the basement where they had lived and we both just couldn’t believe that an entire family had lived there in those conditions. I thought to myself “and here I thought I had it bad”. It was unreal, and so sad and so dark. We prayed that they had found a better place, and it was a realization that a lot of people in our town in this neighborhood lived in these kind of conditions.

In april of 2016 we had been searching for a house for awhile. We had paid everything off (which was an absolute miracle!) and were now able to afford a bigger place. After a long search we found a little two bedroom house in our price range. We had done all the calculations and came to the conclusion that we could do it. We had family help us get enough for the down payment, and we moved into this little house mid April. Our season at West Main Street came to an end, and a new season had begun, and this was just the beginning of our journey. In the months and years to come we realized how much of an impact this season had on our life, and how it really set the tone for our future.

Pic 1: Ezra on one of our many walks

Pic2: our bedroom before we moved our bed into dining room

Pic3: doing our morning bible time outside

Pic4: the way our apartment looked just weeks before we moved. It was home.

Pic5: Corey aka “the toothless wonder”

Pic6: our little kitchen.

Pic 7: our side of the apartment

Pic8: Micah always making us the best food

Last pic: family selfie

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omgjasminesimone · 5 years

Text

Juvenile Delinquents Part 1

Logan x MC (Ellie)

Summary: Ride or Die AU. Logan’s day started out routine, but it ended with mugshots.

Next Part: Part 2

Word Count: 1600

Logan sighs as he drums his fingers on the steering wheel. He hates the waiting, it makes him anxious, too much time to think and allow his nervous energy to build up.

He switches on the radio to have something to drown out his buzzing thoughts, flipping through several stations before settling on 90s West Coast hip hop.

“Logan, it’s time.” Kaneko’s voice comes in clearly through Logan’s earpiece.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Logan replies, revving his Devore’s engine before peeling out of the parking lot at top speed.

In short order, he catches up to the rest of the crew. Kaneko, in the just stolen sports car they’ve been targeting. Mona drives her own convertible to his right, Ximena is in a pickup truck to his left, and Toby is just in front in his favorite Italian import car of the year.

Logan falls into place in the back, completing their diamond formation.

“No one saw you pretty boy?” Mona asks. He can faintly hear the Lebanese traditional music playing in her car through his ear piece.

“Nope. Got to the parking lot without anyone tailing me, and peeled out quick.” Logan answers, unable to mask his cocky tone.

“That’s my boy.” Kaneko praises.

“Uh oh.” Toby mutters.

“That can’t be good.” Ximena replies.

“I’m picking up cops on my scanner boss. Coming up on the 405 South fast.” Toby informs.

“Damn it. Everyone, take the next exit.” Kaneko directs. They all merge right to exit the freeway.

“Shit, they’re expecting us boss.” Toby is still in front, so he’s the first to see the police spikes set up across the asphalt.

“Bet they’re not expecting this.” Mona mutters, engaging the modified spike proof tires Toby installed and driving through the spikes, dragging them along after her car.

The others quickly fly out of the opening Mona has created, and the police give chase.

They use all their usual tricks to try to shake them, but the Mercy Park Crew has been very active lately, and it seems the police have been studying up on their tactics.

“God damn it, I’m running low on gas.” Kaneko informs his crew.

“What do we do boss?” Ximena asks.

“Logan, I need you to peel off, let them catch you to buy us some time.” Kaneko directs.

Logan blanches, gripping his steering wheel tight. “But then I’ll have a record. They’ll have my prints. Know who I am. I’ll be fucked.”

“You’re 17. It will be a juvenile offense, while the rest of us will definitely get prison time. You’ll get off easier. You’re the only one who can do it.” Kaneko explains.

“But-“ Logan starts.

“Logan.” Kaneko interrupts, and his tone informs Logan he’s not asking.

Logan sighs, peeling off from the others as he takes a right on La Cienega. “Will you make sure someone picks up my car when they impound it?” Logan asks.

“I’ve got you Logan.” Ximena promises.

“Thanks.” Logan replies, turning off his headset as he leads some of the police away on a high-speed chase. He circles back and runs a red light, causing one of the cops to crash into the ones still pursuing the crew. But he’s going so fast that he can’t make the next turn, slamming into a pole.

Logan groans as he tries to remove himself from his dented in car. There’s a lot of damage, but he knows the crew will be able to fix it.

“Get out of the car with your hands raised!” A cop yells, and Logan can see he’s pointing a gun at him through his rear-view mirror.

“I can’t! The door is dented in!” Logan shouts back, raising his hands so the cop can see he doesn’t have any weapons.

Several cops approach, guns raised, to remove him from his vehicle. As soon as he’s out, they cuff him and force him into a patrol car.

…

Logan toys with the bandage wrapped around his forehead to stem the bleeding from his head hitting the windshield as he surveys the police station.

It’s busy. Phones ringing, cops dragging resisting criminals to cells, people being processed with fingerprints and mugshots.

It seems like there’s so much going on, that if he could get his wrist out of the hand cuff chaining him to the bench, he could make a run for it. He experimentally tries to squeeze his hand free, but the cuffs are too tight. He sighs. Guess it’s time to face the consequences of his actions.

“Oh my God Jason, you don’t have to forcefully restrain me, I’m not going anywhere.” An airy voice complains.

It’s a girl who looks to be around his age. She’s pretty, with long brown hair and matching brown eyes. She looks too innocent to require the tight grip the detective has on her arm, dressed in a Langston College sweatshirt and jeans.

“Yeah right, like I’d fall for that, again.” Jason replies, forcefully pulling her over to get fingerprinted.

Logan leans back against the wall, closing his eyes as he tries to drown out the loud cacophony of sounds so he can think. What’s his next step after this? He’s got ID on him with his real name, so they’re going to know who he is, and have his prints, and be able to track him back through foster care records.

Will they try to force him back into a group home? He’ll just run away, again, so hopefully they don’t bother.

Is Kaneko going to let him back into the crew? Seems like that would be an unnecessary risk that Kaneko’s not going to be willing to take. But Kaneko can’t just cut him loose either, he knows too much. He doesn’t think Kaneko would hurt him, but he might send him away. Back to Michigan maybe? Logan doesn’t want that.

“What are you in for?” The pretty girl he noticed earlier asks.

Logan is startled to find her sitting beside him on the police precinct’s cold metal bench. She hadn’t been there a second ago.

He looks her over, measuring whether or not she’s harmless. She quirks an eyebrow at his silence. “Hablas ingles?” She asks.

“Yeah, I speak English.” Logan replies. He doesn’t know much Spanish, despite his father allegedly being Salvadoran according to his birth certificate. All his foster parents spoke English, so he only picked up the Spanish basics once he realized people were always going to look at him and assume he speaks the language.

The girl smiles at him, and when she speaks again, he notices a peek of silver in her mouth, a tongue piercing. Guess she’s not as clean cut and innocent as he first clocked her to be.

“So, what are you in for?” She repeats.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to ask people that in here.” Logan responds warily, and the girl lets out a laugh.

“So, I take it you’re a first timer then.” She quips cheerily.

Logan glances down at the pink nail polish adorning the girl’s fingers, the charm bracelet on her delicate wrist. As he looks up into her innocent looking face, a few freckles dotting her tan skin, he has a hard time wrapping his mind around a girl like her being in a place like this.

“And I take it you’re not.” Logan finally replies, and her lips turn up in a grin as the two teenagers stare each other down.

“Fucking hell, Eleanor. Again?! Really?!” An officer interrupts, storming up to the teens.

The girl, Eleanor, he supposes, rolls her brown eyes. “Calm down Dad.”

The Detective’s face becomes red with anger at his daughter’s flippant attitude. “I will not calm down! You’re out of control. Drugs, Eleanor?! Really?!” He yells. The other cops desperately try to ignore the scene he’s creating.

“Prescription drugs.” Eleanor stresses. “It’s really not that big of a deal. If Ingrid wasn’t such a snitch, everything would have been fine.”

“Is this a cry for help Eleanor? Selling prescription drugs at school? I can’t get you out of this, not this time. Ever since your mother died-“

“This isn’t about Mom. This was about making enough money so I could pay LA rent and not have to live with you anymore! You treat me like a child, you’re overbearing!” Eleanor yells back.

“Maybe I would treat you like an adult if you acted like one!” The Detective yells back. His daughter shoots him an icy glare in return, and Logan watches as he closes his eyes before taking a deep breath, trying to compose himself. His attention turns to Logan.

He uncuffs Logan from the bench, gripping his arm and leading him over to be fingerprinted. “Hands up.” The Detective orders gruffly, and Logan reluctantly complies. The Detective frisks him, coming upon his wallet. The Detective rifles through it, quickly finding Logan’s license. “Logan Sanchez?”

Logan nods, and the Detective writes the name onto his paperwork. He takes Logan’s wrist, forcing his fingers to the ink pad and then rolling each finger over the fingerprint paperwork.

“Wheeler, mugshots. You know the drill.” Another cop calls. Eleanor hops off the bench, smiling cheekily as her mugshot is taken. Her father shakes his head as she blows the camera a kiss for her last frame.

The cop she called Jason grips her upper arm again, leading her away. She turns back toward Logan. “See you inside!” She says with a wink before Jason tugs harder, forcing her to walk.

Her father frowns as he turns to look at Logan. His look conveys his belief that Logan is going to be a problem. He grips his arm, rougher than Logan thinks is necessary, and positions him in front of the camera.

Unlike Eleanor, Logan doesn’t smile for the camera.

taglist: @choicesarehard @ifyouseekheart @brightpinkpeppercorn @regina-and-happiness @drakexnadira @flyawayboo @fairydustandsarcasm @alesana45 @umiumichan @maxwellsquidsuit @lahelable @god-save-the-keen @mrsmckenziesworld @paisleylovergirl @iplaydrake @sinclaire-made-me-sin @choicesgremlin @lovehugsandcandy @desiree-0816 @cora-nova @justdani14 @emceesynonymroll @emichelle @badchoicesposts @client-327 @riverrune @liamzigmichael4ever @princessstellaris @mrskaneko @anxious-arliah

#choices fanfiction #ride or die #logan x mc #logan rod

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justlookfrightened · 6 years

Text

Locked out, Part 25

Start from the beginning here: Part 1

Read previous installment here: Part 24

*******************************

It took approximately three hours for Eric to remember why he hadn’t wanted to come home for the summer.

Arriving was fine, even if walking out of the terminal to stand next to the pick-up lane felt like having a hot, wet washcloth draped across his face, and even if Coach was the one to come and get him.

“Your mama was elbow deep in something or other,” Coach sad, after Eric tossed his bag in the bed of truck and climbed in. “So I said I’d make the trip.”

Eric decided to make a little bit of an effort, so he said, “That’s fine. How’s your summer so far?”

“Hot,” Coach said.

“How’s the team look for next year?”

That started Coach off, as he talked about how the starting quarterback had graduated, and there were two coming up who would have to fight it out for the starting role, and thank goodness the defense was sound …

Eric made appropriate noises until Coach ran out of words about 10 minutes later.

They rode in silence for a bit, until Coach offered, “How are things up north? You look like you’re staying in shape. Not making you work too hard at that job?”

“No sir,” Eric said. “I can only work 30 hours a week because otherwise they’d have to give me benefits, so I have Fridays off. And my friend Jack -- the one I told Mama about -- has been skating with me every Friday, so that helps.”

“She did say something about that,” Coach allowed. “He plays hockey professionally, right?”

“He does,” Eric said. “But most of his team travels over the summer.”

Except that Eric had just met several of them. He wouldn’t mention that.

“Still nice of him,” Coach said.

“Yessir.”

They fell into silence again until Eric turned up the radio, letting the twang of Coach’s favorite country station fill the cab.

Mama, on the other hand, couldn’t stop talking, exclaiming over how much he’d grown (He hadn’t. He measured.) and how grown up he looked. She wanted to know the names of everyone in the office, whether they were married or single or in a relationship (“That’s how you young people say it, isn’t it?”), what they all did and how Eric fit in. She asked if his friend Jack was still skating with him, and did he want to visit his old rink this week -- not the one in Madison, the one the other side of Atlanta where he’d learned to figure skate from Katya.

And while she was catching him up on everything else, she was also showing him the list of dishes she planned to make with his help for the family gathering the next day and for the community picnic on the Fourth.

The list was long, but nothing was especially difficult, and Eric was ready to roll up his sleeves and dive in when she said, “Dang it, I forgot the blackberries. And we’re definitely going to need more butter and more powdered sugar for the cupcake frosting. Tell you what. Get the money out of my wallet, and take my car keys and run to the Ingles. Pick up a couple of those rotisserie chickens because I clean forgot to make anything for supper, I was so focused on tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, Mama,” Eric said.

As soon as he settled in his mother’s old minivan and tuned the radio to a pop station -- one from the 2000s at least -- he took his phone out to read the string of texts Jack had sent him.

Made it home. Are you in Georgia yet?

I really want to show you Montreal

Maman said I get gooey eyes when a I talk about you. She wants to meet you

Papa too

Miss you

Eric had texted back once he got home, letting Jack know he arrived safely. And that he’d love to see Montreal. But he didn’t know how to respond to Jack’s texts about his parents. Of course he wanted to meet them -- he would have jumped at the chance to meet Alicia Zimmermann in any case, and Bad Bob was nearly as much of a draw now that he’d learned about his hockey history.

But meeting the parents -- wasn’t that kind of a big step? When he couldn’t even tell his own parents he was seeing someone? Or, at least, not who he was seeing?

He texted back, Miss you too. Mama’s got me busy in the kitchen, but she goes to bed early. I’ll text when I can Skype.

Then he put the minivan in gear and drove to the supermarket.

Once there, he collected several cartons of blackberries -- it would have been better to buy them by the quart at the farmers market -- then three pounds of butter and two pounds of confectioner’s sugar. Then he got in line in at the deli counter to get chickens fresh off the spit.

Where he came face-to-face with Tommy Barber. The same Tommy Barber who had once complained -- loudly -- that the football team shouldn’t be expected to change in the locker room when Eric was there waiting in Coach’s office, and had asked everyone on the football team if they knew of anyone poor little Eric Bittle could go to prom with, since none of them were gay.

They had all found it hilarious, even though Eric never once even considered coming out at high school. And he had prom date, thank you very much. Melissa was one of his best friends from skating, and they went to one another’s proms to save each other from the boors in their respective schools.

She, at least, had turned some heads, and made them be quiet for the duration of the dance.

“Hey, Eric,” Tommy said, like he was any other customer. “What can I get you today?”

“A couple of those rotisserie chickens,” Eric said.

“Sure,” Tommy said. “Any cole slaw or potato salad with that?”

“No thanks,” Eric said.

He watched as Tommy placed the chickens in containers, then said, “You working here for the summer?”

Tommy snorted.

“And the fall, winter and spring, too,” he said. “Couldn’t afford to stay at Valdosta State after my dad got laid off. Gotta save some money. What about you? You home for the summer?”

“No, just visiting for the holiday,” Eric said. “I’m working up in Rhode Island this summer. Got an internship.”

“Sounds cool,” Tommy said. “Say hey to Coach. Let him know I’m around if he needs any help next season.”

“Sure,” Eric said, tucking the chickens into his cart and heading for the checkout lanes.

While he was waiting in line, he texted Jack again.

Do you ever feel like you don’t belong at home anymore?

*****************

Tagging: @thehockeyhaus @cow-mow@communistchexmix@falling-out-girl @whatnowpunk@wikihowpunk@zimboniiiiii@butterflyimportantstuff@ladyaulis@delicatelycrispyblizzard@cyn2k @eyesforeverwithpride @bookbelle494 @herecauseoftheweirdo

Read the next installment: Part 26

#omgcheckplease #omg check please #zimbits #locked out #my fic

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bigskydreaming · 6 years

Text

LOL, any time I try and make plans or estimates, the universe is like hahahaha, surprise, fuck-o! so, you think I’d stop doing that but I never learn, OH WELL.

Anyway, obvsly didn’t update LC like I thought I was going to last week, but my previous intentions laid out in that post still hold, just....slower. Got yet another CT scan to get done today, so off to that in a few, but let’s call this Lightning Crashes, Chapter 6A for now, with the actual fic actually updated once all three parts of Chapter 6 are ready.

CHAPTER 6A

Two more anticlimactic weeks into the most exciting thing to ever happen to her, Kira was forced to come to one of two conclusions:

1) She was completely paranoid, delusional and a bit of a narcissist, convinced everyone and their mother was out to get her or at least drive her nuts

2) She really was the focus of some secret, shadowy government agency that employed adorable five foot tall freshmen with scraggly peach fuzz in place of the facial hair they were in a clear hurry to grow because who knows, masculinity merit badges or whatever. Boys are weird.

Anyway. It was definitely one of those two things. Problem was, she had no idea which.

She didn’t feel like she was in a super big hurry to get confirmation one way or the other though, no matter how crazy it was making her. So she made an abrupt heel turn and noped her way in the opposite direction when she saw Scott Vasquez waiting anxiously outside her English classroom.

Lurking, she meant. That was definite lurking behavior, no matter if said lurker was shuffling his feet, biting his lip and looking all sorts of nervous and cute while running a hand through his hair. The movement made the bicep beneath his long-sleeved shirt go all taut and…muscle-y. And…oh my god what was she doing, what was wrong with her, do not crush on your stalker Kira, he is not cute, what is your brain damage even. Maybe she had Stockholm Syndrome. Did that still count if he was just stalking her and hadn’t actually kidnapped her yet?

Yet? YET? Oh good god, where was an intervention when she needed one? She needed better friends, clearly, there would be no kidnapping, PERIOD, what the hell self, that is not relationship goals!

UGH WHY WAS SHE THINKING ABOUT A RELATIONSHIP IN THE CONTEXT OF WEIRDO CUTE BOY WHO WAS STALKING HER???

“Kira, wait up!” She heard Scott call out behind her and her skin did that weird tingling thing that made her blood start to buzz like liquid lightning crackling through her veins. Rude, even his voice was hot, it was all deep but soft and how dare evil government agencies employ not just cute boys but cute boys with hot, throaty voices, that was just genius and downright…insidious.

“Sorry, I’m late to class!” Kira yelled over her shoulder and quickened her steps. She could hear him jogging to keep up, not even breathing hard, because of course he was athletic too.

“Umm, I know, we’re in the same English class. It’s back that way?”

“No habla ingles!”

…she clearly was not qualified for like, any of this.

Scott pulled ahead of her and turned around so he was walking backwards. He held his hands out in front of him in an obvious effort to come off as safe and non-threatening, making no move to come any closer even when she skidded to a stop. He looked…concerned. And maybe even a little amused?

“What?” She snapped when seconds continued to tick by without another word from him. He blinked and then shook his head like coming out of a daze.

“Sorry, I just, that was kinda funny because we’re also in the same Spanish class, y’know?”

Her face burned. Right. That.

“Well, its not like I could pretend to speak anything else. Just because I’m Korean and Japanese doesn’t mean I actually speak either of those things, okay?”

His brow furrowed. “I didn’t assume you did?”

She deflated. Everyone always said the best defense was a good offense but nobody ever mentioned that staying on the offensive was really hard when the other person refused to get offended.

“Well. Good.”

He nodded then and took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself. Which was all kinds of weird, because what did HE have to be nervous about? He was the one stalking HER!

“Okay, so. Look. I’m really sorry for like, all of this. We went about this all wrong and I don’t blame you for being freaked out and I’d like to start over and just…can we go somewhere and talk? And I can try and explain? Anywhere you want, just not…here here.”

That was not remotely something she was prepared for. Not that she was prepared for any of this. Whatever the hell this was. She took a step back, trying to gauge his sincerity even as she became aware for the first time that they were still in the middle of the hall and it was in between classes. While other students were giving them a wide berth, there was no shortage of curious glances being thrown their way. Her skin tingled again. She was not at all used to being the center of attention and this did not feel anywhere near as rewarding as it seemed in her occasional (well, rare, really rare) daydreams about being super popular.

After a few moments of consideration, she huffed an aggravated breath that blew stray hair out of her face and stomped over to an out of the way alcove where a little-used exit led to a small outdoor study area. She did not exude grace. Scott gave her a few seconds head start, and then when she stopped in the alcove and made no attempt to go outside, he hesitantly joined her in the out of the way doorway. Still in clear view of everyone in the hall but no longer right in the midst of everything.

He made an effort to still leave a few feet of separation between them, out of arms’ reach. Which she did not appreciate exactly, because she did not appreciate any of this and wanted that on record. But she did note it. Unfortunately, Kira also noted that the less threatening he became, the more aware of his obnoxious cuteness she became. And she was not a fan.

Its not like she’d ever spent a ton of time contemplating what her priorities would be should she ever star in some government conspiracy young adult dystopian adventure. But she’d always kinda assumed that at the very least she’d be able to go five seconds without concentrating on the way the mysterious secrecy boy in said adventure had soft brown eyes that managed to sparkle even though that was not an adjective normally associated with that particular eye color. Seriously, how was he doing that. Stop it.

Oh thank god, her ire was back.

“Look, I may not know what’s going on here, but let’s make one thing clear,” Kira hissed in a low voice. She was the one to close the distance between them, which…why, as she stepped forward and jabbed a finger at his chest. He didn’t flinch. She did though, kinda, because his pecs were like rock solid, what the hell, this was so unfair. “I don’t care who you are, but I, mister, am no Bella Swan.”

Scott blinked. His mouth fell open a little as he tilted his head, his eyes going distant and a little glazed as she could almost see his thoughts racing behind them, trying to figure something out. Then they focused again and he looked down at her with a frown.

“I don’t know who that is,” he admitted. “Is she in one of our classes?”

She stared. “What? No. Twilight?”

His frown deepened. He looked around the hall for a second, landing on a patch of sunlight on the floor beneath a window. Then he looked back at her, his eyes crinkling with something that vaguely registered as concern.

“Kira, it’s ten in the morning.”

What? “Yeah, I know. How do you not know what Twilight is? By Stephanie Meyer? Bella Swan, Edward Cullen, you seriously have no idea what I’m talking about?”

Scott’s face cleared, eyes widening and cheeks darkening slightly. The top of his ears reddened. “Oh right, sorry,” he said, obviously embarrassed. Ew, now she felt bad and also he was back to being cute. Why was she even bothering at this point. “The book. Got it. Sorry, I haven’t read it. Is it good?”

Her brain had broken like, at least ten minutes ago, so she decided to let her mouth just do whatever. It’s not like an actual filter had contributed anything useful to this conversation.

“I mean, its not bad, but I wouldn’t call it good exactly. I was talking more about the movie anyway, but…oh my god this is not the point. I’m just…look, so there’s a girl in it and she gets involved in all this weird stuff because of the hot vampire boy in her class and it felt like there were parallels to this whatever that all this is. So I’m just saying, I am no Bella Swan because I think she gets a lot of criticism that’s not totally fair but at the same time she definitely makes choices that I think are dumb and that’s all. I was just clarifying that do not expect that I am someone who will make dumb choices just because. Ugh you know what, just forget it.”

She wanted to melt into a puddle five seconds after her brain did catch up and realized she’d basically told him she’d categorized him as her hot YA love interest. But in the one bit of good fortune bestowed on her and her dignity today, that was not the part he’d fixated on. If anything, he looked weirdly insulted.

“Wait, do you think I’m a vampire?”

She stared at him helplessly.

“You know what, I don’t even care if you’re gonna axe murder me or abduct me to take part in some weird government experiments. Fine, let’s have your freaking conversation. Come on.”

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espanadiarywriter · 5 years

Text

En Fuego

Well, I had started writing a blog about moving from the oversized gorgeous apartment we rented for the year to a crappy Airbnb next to the school. It’s a crappy place in a great location. It is two blocks to school and overlooks a park. But it has a dingy small bathroom and old very dusty furniture and nothing in the kitchen except the massive amounts of stuff we moved anticipating the crappy Airbnb. And then the washing machine set itself on fire... and I’m guessing I should tell you all that story instead of waxing poetic about how being surrounded by your stuff is comforting.

So it was a very hard Monday, moving everything. We had to put bags in storage that were ready to go back to the US. We had to move a bunch of furniture and home goods to a friend’s apartment who was buying it. We had to move all the luggage and a bunch of stuff we haven’t gotten rid of yet to the new apartment. And it was emotional starting to wrap up the year on top of the apartment being a huge step down in nice from our old place. None of us slept well. But we turned over the keys to our old apartment, had lunch out, and came back to the new apartment. Rob put in a load of laundry. We rested a little before getting Nate from school and heard the washing machine chugging away. And then…

I went into the kitchen to pack a snack and water to go pick up our son from school. The next thing I know, the laundry machine makes a large BANG and all the lights on the front light up. (European washing machines are almost always in the kitchen next to the kitchen cabinets for those of you who do not know that.) Anyway, at first it looks like steam is coming out the front. I call Rob. Then the “steam” gets dark black, and it is clearly smoke, and it is increasing. And I yell to Rob.

I try to push the buttons to turn the machine off, but by now they are all flashing and then going dark and then flashing again. Rob pulls the machine out from under the counter. More smoke. We open the kitchen window. He reaches under the counter and unplugs the machine. Still more smoke. I call the equivalent of 911, which is 112 in Spain. In Spanish, I tell them we have a fire and it is coming from the washing machine, it is all inside the machine right now, and my address including floor and door number. They ask a few questions about the fire and I answer in Spanish. Then they ask if anyone is hurt, and I pause, because hurt is one of those weird constructions like “me gusta” where the verb is not regular and my brain just freezes. I say in English, “No one is hurt.” And then he pauses, and asks, “Hablas ingles?” And just like that I was transferred to a woman who spoke English. She reconfirmed all the information I had already given, (which I had correctly explained in Spanish thankyouverymuch). And I gave her more details about how big the building was, how many apartments on each floor, etc. She said someone was on their way.

While I am on the phone with emergency services, Rob called the Airbnb contacts and explained the washing machine was on fire. They seemed mostly unconcerned until he sent pictures of the firemen. And then they were only slightly concerned. (Did I mention this place is crappy?)

The machine was really starting to smoke now. So I took my computer, purse, told Rob to grab the passports and went downstairs to wait for the fire trucks. Rob stayed upstairs with the fire, because he’s male. I don’t mean to be sexist, but it’s my only explanation.

As I was heading downstairs, emergency services called me back to ask more questions. They told me to go downstairs and wait at the front door, which I was already doing. Three GIANT fire trucks drove up a few minutes later. I spoke to the firemen who arrived, and answered questions (in Spanish mostly). He asked me if my husband was still upstairs because he was hurt, and I assured him no one was hurt, and I could not explain why he stayed upstairs.

They started getting out hoses, and prepping, I suppose in case the fire spread. But once I explained it was only inside the machine right now, the guy I was speaking to shouted something to the others and they looked less rushed with the hoses. Three firemen went upstairs as I answered more questions and gave my ID to a police woman who showed up just after the fire trucks. I knew it wasn’t too bad because the firemen took the elevator up. At some point, after all the pertinent information had been shared, a police man came up and said, “I speak English.” (Kind of too late, but okay. We clarified a few things about how it was the first time we had run the washing machine and why we were in an airbnb if we were living here for a year.

I was just chatting with the police on the street, and eventually I explained that I had to go pick up my son from school. I said, in Spanish, my husband is upstairs, (no he’s not injured and I don’t know why he is upstairs), and off I went the two blocks to school. But you know, at least Rob was able to take pictures. Very considerate.

Soon all the other expat families heard the story of the exploding lavadora, and a few folks walked back with us so the kids could see the firetrucks, but they were all gone by the time I got back to the apartment.

The airbnb people did show up after the firemen left. But they didn’t actually remove the lavadora until the next day and another two messages and a phone call where I was super insistent that it had to go immediately because it smelled awful. The whole apartment smelled like burnt wires.

Because we have a great village, even here in Spain, our son slept over at a friend’s house that night. (His room was directly next to the fire and didn’t have much cross breeze to air it out.) In fact, the family took us in to hang out in their apartment and fed us dinner (on a weeknight, with no notice). When Rob and I got back to the apartment at about 10pm, the smell in the kitchen was really bad, but our bedroom on the other side of the flat was much better. We slept with the windows open, but both had a rough night.

We didn’t want to move all our stuff the day after we had just moved in for 2 weeks. We are still downsizing and getting rid of the extra stuff (like small furniture and fans). So we were in a bit of a conundrum. Ultimately, we decided to stay. It no longer smells like smoke and it’s only 6 more nights here now (since we are headed to the beach for the weekend). And the location is so perfect for us right now. So off we go today for the weekend, and then the last week of school for Nate. Wish us luck. Nothing like going out with a bang.

#enfuego fire adventures

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maealbert · 6 years

Text

Unconventional Interview // The Liaison

NEW!

A/N: So like I originally had an idea from S11 with Tara’s interview, but a WHOLE NEW idea come to mind thanks to S5 - The Fight ;) A/N 2: Also I’m creating something new for The Liaison. Enjoy! :) Master List The Liaison

tag list: @literallyreid @idkbutspencer @literallyprentissstwin @remember-me-forever-silent-angel @cynbx @tenaciousarcadeexpert @rawritsmolly @dontshootmespence @princesswagger15 @drspencerreider @illegalcerebral @marvelfanlife @rt8815 @punkpenguin2019 @extremeobsessions101____________________

Storm clouds lingered over Washington, D.C. Rain poured down by the bucket full. “Dammit,” Emily cursed under her breath as she picked up a soggy box off of apartment steps. “Stick it in the leasing office. It isn’t that hard to do.” Shaking out her umbrella she closes it before stepping into her apartment building just as her phone began to ring. “Whoever you are can wait.” She says running up the steps to her floor. Unlocking her apartment door she kicks it open and sets the soggy box on the floor by the door alongside her umbrella. Tossing her purse and keys onto the dining table, she heads to her bedroom as she calls back the recent number.

“Hey, glad you called back.” She heard a voice on the other end.

“Well if it isn’t Sam Cooper.” Emily says earning a chuckle from Sam. “Now how did I get so lucky to receive a late night call from you?”

“Well it really isn’t late on this side of the country.”

“This is true.” Emily says as she kicks off her boots. “But seriously, Coop. What’s up?”

“I have a case for you.”

“You’re still with the Bureau after all these years.”

“You’d be surprised.” He says laughing. “I have a new team out here. I’m actually training a new agent and the Director wants to send her your way.”

“I don’t have a position for her.”

“Trust me, she’s worth it. I’ve had her for only three weeks and she’s shown so much potential. She’s fast, smart, strong. Her profiling skills are impeccable and she makes a great Liaison. I know you need one there.”

“So do you need us on a case? Or are you trying to sell me your agent?”

“Hopefully both,” Sam laughs. “So what do you say?”

“Send me what you got. I’ll see what I can do about the case but I’m not making any promises about the agent.”

“Fair enough. I only need three days.” Sam says before hanging up.

_____________________________

Walking up to the warehouse, the team could hear loud voices from inside carrying over the music blaring from a nineties boombox. “Alright!” Sam shouts clapping his hands together. “Nice! Keep it going Charlie!”

“Aw come on Coop!” Charlie groans as she leans forward on her knees; her blonde ponytail draping over her shoulder. “I need a break!”

“Give me fifty more punches and then you can go rest!” Sam says chuckling. “You can do it!”

The team walks into the renovated gym of the warehouse. “Well I see not everyone’s moved on.” Mick says as he approaches Emily.

“Careful Brit,” JJ says walking over. “Chief is taken.”

“Chief? Taken? I don’t believe any of it.”

“Well believe it,” Rossi says as he and Mick shake hands. “And no, you have no competition but he’s got you beat by a landslide.”

Emily scoffs rolling her eyes. “They make a big deal out of all the boyfriends I’ve had.”

“She’s had two..” Spencer chimes in.

“Coop! I’m done!” Charlie calls as she lays down on the floor. “No more!”

Sam chuckles as he walks over to Charlie and hovering over her. “You did great.”

“Well I feel horrible.” Charlie says as he pulls her off the floor. “Go grab some water and take a rest in the breakroom.”

“So is that the agent you were telling me about?” Emily says as she approaches Sam once Charlie had walked away.

“Yes actually. Charlotte Ingles,” Sam starts to tell her. “Twenty-five, she’s from Chicago but very down to earth, just don’t piss her off.”

Emily laughs shaking her head before Sam calls for everyone to gather around. Charlie came out of the break room chugging down more water as she wiped her face. Mick nudged her side making her laugh. “I am so tired.” She says making him chuckle.

“It’s the most I’ve ever seen a woman do.” He says.

“Charlie.” Sam calls.

“Yes?”

“I want you to take Agent Jareau and Rossi to the latest crime scene. But first, please shower and dress in clean clothes.”

“I’ll be out in ten minutes.” Charlie says as she rushes off the back rooms to the showers.

“In the meantime, you all just relax for a bit. Sitting on a jet for six hours might sound luxurious but I know the cons.” Sam says.

____

“Rawson!” Charlie yells from the shower room. “I’m going to kill you!”

“What’d you do now?” Emily says looking over at Mick as he writes on the chalkboard.

“Just gave her a new hair color.” He says smirking.

“Now is not the time to start with the pranks.” Sam says crossing his arms over his chest.

Charlie walks out of the room fully dressed in work appropriate clothes and a towel wrapped around her dried hair. “I refuse to go out like this.” She says looking at Sam.

“How bad can it be?” Luke questions.

“Let’s just say I’d be the first agent in the history of the bureau to have pink hair!” Charlie said removing the towel. “Highlights are one thing but not my whole head!” She says chucking the towel at Mick. “You such a child!”

“Like I said,” Sam whispers to Emily. “Don’t piss her off.”

Emily snickers. “That’s a first. I’ve gotten used to Derek and Spencer’s pranks but this is a whole other level.”

“I can fix it after the case,” Lillian says as she tosses Charlie her bag, badge, and gun. “Blonde hair is easy.”

Lillian was a tall hispanic woman, late thirties. Originally from Spain but came to New York when she was three. She’s like Charlie you don’t want to piss her off. She was one of the new recruits right after Gina and Jonathan had been transferred to another team. Mick stayed with Sam as they brought on Lillian and Charlie.

________

Pulling up the latest crime scene, JJ and Rossi climbed out of the SUV while Charlie tied her back in a braid. “Nice...hair..” The lead officer said as he walked up to Charlie. “Mick?”

“Sadly…” Charlie sighs. “So what do we got here?”

“Same as the other victims,” The officer starts to explain to the three agents. “A single gunshot to the head.

“So it looks like our unsub had to have had help bringing our victim here,” JJ says as she observes the surrounding area. “According to the ID on our victim, their weight was two-hundred and twenty pounds. Not easy to carry unless they’re a bodybuilder.”

“There aren’t any drag marks so he had to have help.” Rossi adds.

“So we could be looking for a partnership,” Charlie says. “Although we have three guesses and ⅓ of chance of getting right,” She sighs crosses her arms over her chest. “We have a lot of work to do.”

“I’ll make sure the ME does a thorough check over the body for any other DNA.”

Charlie’s phone buzzed. A text message from Sam. ‘Our victim, Cathy Rhodes, was reported missing nine months ago by her mother.’

“Cathy’s mother reported her missing nine months ago.” Charlie says looking up from her phone.

“We should probably head back to the others and figure out the rest of the game plan.” Rossi says.

____________

Sam walks over to Charlie as she pours creamer into her coffee. “Would you like some coffee with that creamer?”

Charlie laughs shaking her head. “Well if you didn’t buy such bitter coffee, I wouldn’t need so much.” She retorts.

“So you remember when I explained the Director’s intentions of sending you to Quantico, right?”

“Considering you told me this morning? No, I haven’t. Why? Did he come to his senses and wants to keep me here?”

Sam chuckles. “Sadly, no. I want Emily to take you on her team. You’d be a great asset.”

“This isn’t the military, Sam. I can’t just pick up my life and move like it’s nothing,” Charlie says as takes a sip of her coffee. “I have a life here. I’ve had life here since my mom gave birth to me. The only time I left was to go to Georgetown and then the Academy for two years.”

“I know, I know. It isn’t easy but I think this could good for me which is why I want to make a good impression with Emily.”

“Which means you want me to do what?” She says raising her eyebrows.

“I want to talk to Cathy’s mother.”

“I can’t…” Charlie says shaking her head.

“Please?”

“No, Sam, and you know why I can’t..” Charlie says walking away from him.

He follows after her, careful not spill his coffee. “Charlie, I want Emily to know that you can be vulnerable but efficient.”

“I understand that, Sam,” Charlie says turning to face him. “But I can’t….”

Sam pulls her into the break room again before closing the door. “I know it’s only been three months since your mother died but this could really help you, especially since it’s apart of your training.” Charlie tears her eyes away from Sam as she starts to get choked up.

“Why can’t you have Lillian talk to her? O-Or Mick? JJ, even. That used to be her job.”

A knock comes on the door and JJ peeks her head in. “Cathy’s mother is here.” She says before closing the door. Sam rests his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. Charlie sighs before nodding her head.

“I’ll bring her in.” Sam says as he exits the break room.

Charlie sat down at the table as she swirled her index finger around the ring of the mug. The door opened again and in walked Sam as he held the door open for Cathy’s mother. “Mrs. Rhodes, I’d like you to meet Agent Ingles.”

“I hear you found my baby.” Mrs. Rhodes says as she approaches Charlie. Charlie stands up from the table and pulls out a chair for Cathy’s mother.

“I think you’d better sit down, Mrs. Rhodes.” Charlie says. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, no. I’m okay.” Mrs. Rhodes says as she sits down at the table. “How is my Cathy? Is she okay? Can I see her?”

“Mrs. Rhodes,” Charlie began to speak. She could already feel her hands start to sweat as she tried to find the words to tell Cathy’s mother that her baby wasn’t where she thought she was. “We did find Cathy.. But Mrs. Rhodes, Cathy was murdered.” She watched Mrs. Rhodes as her mouth slightly opened in shock, her eyes watering over with tears. She starts to shake her head in disbelief.

“No, I don’t believe you.”

“Mrs. Rhodes, I know this is hard to comprehend.. I’ve been where you are losing a loved one. I’ve been in your shoes.”

“You don’t understand, Agent Ingles. You don’t have kids.”

“I don’t, Mrs. Rhodes but I still lost someone very close to me.”

Mrs. Rhodes keeps her eyes trained on her lap. “Who?” She asks looking up at Charlie.

Charlie took in a deep breath. She wasn’t expecting to be asked who exactly she lost. “My mother…” Charlie took in a deep breath. “She was murdered...a few months ago….”

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that..” Mrs. Rhodes says.

Charlie shakes her head. “No, no. It’s okay. Right now we’re focusing on this case right now.”

“Can you tell me what happened to my baby?”

“Mrs. Rhodes, I don’t think that’s a good idea-”

“Please, I want to know.”

Charlie sighs as she wraps her hand around the coffee mug. Taking in a deep breath, she starts to explain to Mrs. Rhodes what’s happened to her daughter. Her phone started to ring. “Excuse me…” She says before leaving the room and answering the phone call. “Agent Ingles.”

“Agent Ingles, this is the ME. So I have come connections between our three victims.”

_____

“They all gave birth?” Sam questions as he looks over at Emily.

“They were already pregnant when they went missing.” Charlie explains. “According to the ME, each victim has showed visible signs of pregnancy. They gave birth right before they were killed.”

“So what are you thinking?” Emily asks.

“Well according to the files that Garcia pulled up on our victims, they were all drug addicts.” Charlie says. “So maybe our unsubs were taking them just for the babies, give them a safe home. Although I don’t understand the murder part but...people think differently.”

“So we have three missing newborns,” Sam says. “Three murdered women, and two unsubs on the loose.”

“Charlie, I want you to head to the ME with Mick and see what all else they’ve found from our victims.” Emily says.

“Mick? Of all people?” Charlie groans.

“I’ll talk to him before you leave,” Sam says. “We don’t need any more of you turning pink.” He says winking at her.

“Ha, funny. I will get him back.”

“I don’t doubt that you will.” Sam says patting Charlie’s shoulder before leaving the room.

Emily walked up to Charlie and extended her hand. “We were never introduced,” She says giving her a warm smile. “I’m Emily.”

“I know,” Charlie says shaking her hand returning the smile. “I’m usually more professional than..this.” She says gesturing to her pink hair making Emily laugh. “I respect Mick but sometimes he acts like the annoying older brother.”

“Or in my case, the annoying little brother.” Emily responds. “Just try to play nice when you head to the ME.”

_________________

“You know what to do?” A woman says as she hands the keys off to an older gentleman.

“Find them, run them down. They can’t focus on two injured agents and two unsubs at the same time, now can they?” He says shooting the woman a smirk.

_________________

The drive to the ME was pretty quiet. Charlie kept to herself, not wanting to talk to Mick after his little prank and Mick stayed silent not wanting to piss of Charlie anymore than he had already did. Mick’s phone buzzed in the cup holder and he reached for it.

“Put it away.” Charlie says keeping her focus on the trees as they passed by.

“Sam texted.”

“You can reply when we get to the ME’s office.”

“Oh it’ll only take a few seconds.”

Charlie turned her head and began to reach for Mick’s phone when she saw a car coming in their direction on their side of the road. “Mick! Watch out!” She shouts. Mick drops his phone and sharply turns the wheel and slamming his foot on the brakes. “Oh my god…” Charlie gasps. The car starts heading towards the cliff. “No no no! Mick! Mick!”

_______________

“Have they gotten to the ME?” Emily asks as she joins the rest of the team in the main room.

“No, I haven’t been getting any answers on either of their cellphones.” JJ responds as she hangs up her phone.

“I just got off the phone with the ME. They haven’t shown up yet.” Luke says hanging up his phone as well.

“Garcia, can you track them down?” Sam asks.

“Already on it.” Garcia says as she starts typing away.

_______________

Gasping for air, Charlie tries sitting up in the passenger seat. The seatbelt was stuck and not budging an inch. Stretching her arm out to the glove box in front of her, she hooked her index finger under the latch and pulled it up. She grabbed Mick’s pocket knife and starts to cut the seatbelt. Once she had freed herself, she kicked open the car door with strength she had left. To their luck, the car landed upright at the bottom of the cliff. She stumbled around to the front of the SUV and over to Mick’s car. Pulling open the door she cut him free from the seat belt and pulled him out of the car. “What happened?” He asks resting against the SUV.

“Another car drifted into our lane, I guess.. They drove us off the cliff…” Charlie explains. “I don’t think we can make it back up there to hail down someone.”

“I can.” Mick says.

A twig snapped behind Charlie. Turning on her heels she tries to see what made that noise.

“I think if I can get up there, I can hail down a car.” Mick say pulling back Charlie’s attention. As Mick went to examine the cliff, a hand covers Charlie’s mouth and dragging her away. “This rock can give us a boost up the cliff.” Mick says as he turns to face Charlie only to find her not there. “Charlie?” He calls. Looking inside the SUV he found it empty. “Charlie?” He calls out again and looking around the area. “Shit..” Running back to the cliff, he starts making his way up to the top. Once he reaches the road he hails down a truck driver and flashing his badge. The brakes screech as the truck comes to a stop.

“Sir, are you okay?” The driver said as he climbed out of the truck.

“FBI.” Mick says. “There’s been an accident…”

______________

“I need to get out of here..” Mick says as he tries climbing off the bed.

“Oh no you don’t.” Emily says pushing him back on the bed.

“No, I need to find Charlie.” He says.

“And I said no.” Emily says. “Don’t make me handcuff you to the bed.”

“Is that all you’d do?” He says shooting her a smirk. She hits him with a pillow before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

“Any word from Garcia?” She says approaching both teams in the waiting room.

“No,” Sam says shaking his head. “We’re still at square one. We have no idea who our unsubs are so therefore we have no idea where they took Charlie.”

JJ’s phone starts to ring. “Yeah, Spence.”

“Hey, I think we have a lead,” Spencer says bending down to the ground and examining drag marks. “How soon can you get here?”

_______

Emily, JJ, Spencer, and Matt follow the drag marks to freeway. “This still doesn’t get us off of square one.”

Rossi turns around upon hearing a footsteps dragging back down into the woods. “Guys, I think I hear something.” He says slowly advancing back down towards the trees. He pulled his gun and started following in the direction that he heard the dragging sounds. Suddenly he sees pink hair emerge from between the trees. “It’s Charlie!” He shouts running towards her. “Hey hey hey,” He says catching her before she hit the floor. “I got you.”

“Edward...Sacramento...Peter...1...7...8...9.”

“We need to get her to the hospital.” Emily says as she pulls out her phone.

“No, I’m fine.” Charlie says. “Just out of breath… I saw the license plate of the car when he was dragging towards to it. I managed to get free and ran... “

“Where is he?” JJ asks.

“Long gone. I was hoping Garcia can track down the owner of the car, get an address.” Charlie stands up straight. “Now.. I don’t know about any of you but I’d like some water.”

_________

“You’re a trooper,” Mick says as Charlie walks into the room. “I knew you’d be good.”

Charlie laughs shaking her head. “No you didn't. You were going to fight Emily to come find me.” She sits on the bed.

“So you’re not going to go with the others to find the unsubs?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to check up on you first.”

A knock comes on the door and Sam pokes his head inside the room. “Garcia’s got an address.”

“Sad I can’t watch you kick it in the field.” Mick says.

“I’ll fill you in.” Charlie says as she gets off the bed and leaves the room.

_________

As the agents pulled up outside of Lonnie Dane’s two story home. Half of the group went around back while the other half stayed inside. “On my go.” Sam calls through the ear wigs. He reaches up his hand and knocks on the door. “Lonnie Danes?” No answer. “Lonnie Danes, FBI.” Still receiving no answer Sam looks at Luke and nods his head. Kicking open the door both groups head inside the house and checking each room.

Charlie made her way to the kitchen where Matt and JJ were standing. “Every room’s clear.” Sam calls.

“He just had to have left before we got here,” Spencer says as he walks into the kitchen. “Television’s still on in the living room.

“He was cooking before he went out.” JJ says walking over to the stove.

Sam walks into the kitchen with Emily. “I’m going to take my team back to the warehouse and continue going through his files.”

“The rest of you going with them.” Emily says. “Charlie and Matt, I want to keep you two here in case he comes back.” She adds before going back out to the living room with Matt.

Charlie nods her head as she holsters her gun and turns off the stove. “We’ve got a car approaching.” Matt calls from the living room. “Plates match.”

Charlie pulls out her gun again as the back door opens, but before she had a chance to speak he was already pulling the trigger. Charlie ducks behind the counter grabbing the still hot pan with her. She couldn’t hear his footsteps. Slowly standing up she can feels him behind her. Spinning around she slaps the pan across his face knocking him to the ground.

“Are you okay?” Matt says as he comes over to Charlie.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” She says looking down at Lonnie. A red mark appearing on his face.

“Well you use what you got.” Emily says as she hands Lonnie’s hands together.

“Sam’s been training to use reachable objects for defense before using bullets.” Charlie explains as she twists the pan around in her hand.

“Now I figured what the teams been missing,” Emily chuckles. “You did great on a whim.”

Charlie shrugs her shoulders. “I wonder how good I could be with a frying pan instead of gun.”

Emily laughs as she wraps her arm around Charlie’s shoulders. “Let’s not find out.” She says as the two of them walk out of the house.

_________________

Charlie wrung her hair out in the sink after washing out the last of the blonde hair dye residue when the apartment buzzer rang out by the door. Groaning she quickly grabs a towel and wraps it out around her hair before running down the stairs to the buzzer. “Yeah..”

“Hey, it’s Emily. Charlie?”

“Hey! I’ll buzz you in!” Charlie says as she presses the white button before going to the kitchen sink to finish washing the last bit of the hair dye out of her hair. She hears the door opening and turns the water off.

“Going back to blonde?” She hears Emily says with a chuckle.

Charlie grabs the towel again and wraps her hair back up. “Does the pink hair qualify as a midlife crisis?”

Emily laughs. “I don’t think it does. At least not at your age.”

Charlie leans on the counter. “So what brings you by? I thought your team already left last night?”

“Oh yeah, they did. I stayed behind.”

“And why?” Charlie says narrowing her eyes at Emily. “Why would you stay behind?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay, one liners aren’t really helping me right now.” Charlie says.

“Did Sam ever talk to you about the Director’s current motives?”

Charlie nods her head. “Yeah, Sam’s been making me bust my ass for three weeks now ever since the Director called him.”

“So you know he’s been trying to convince me to take you on my team.” Charlie nods her head. “And how do you feel about that? Coming to work in Quantico?”

“It’s a big change, that’s for sure,” Charlie says as she pulls the towel off of her head. “I’ve lived in this city for twenty years and then I lived in Quantico for two before I was recruited and placed back out here in my hometown, been back here ever since.” Charlie tosses the towel towards the staircase. “I was just about to make dinner, want to stay? Or do you have to catch a flight?”

“I don’t leave until tomorrow afternoon. I’d like to stay. What are you making?”

“Rossi actually wrote down one his recipes for me try. He told me he wrote it for just me but if I made it for more than one, than just to multiply the recipe by however many people would be eating it?”

“What recipe?”

“Uh, I had put it in the drawer when I got home.” Charlie said as she pulled open a drawer beside the sink. “Ah! Here it is!” She says handing the notecard over to Emily. “Wanna help me?”

“Oh god no,” Emily says shaking her head and handing the card back to Charlie. “I butchered that meal when I tried to make it for Andrew and myself.”

Charlie snickers. “Yeah, he told me about the phone call.”

“Hey, I had no other choice.”

Charlie giggles before going to gather the ingredients from the pantry.

___________

“Wait! So you knew Gideon?” Emily laughs. “How was he as a professor?”

“A little tough, I can say that. After taking his classes and finishing my training, I decided to take an office job out here for a some years before joining Coop’s team.” Charlie explains. “I was a pretty quiet student in his class, always have been my whole life. He didn’t like it because I rarely participated in mock cases.”

“Why not?”

“Because they weren’t mock cases. They were real,” Charlie shook her head. “We weren’t ready for that yet, he just threw us into them. We didn’t really have a choice to exclude ourselves, he said it’s what we would be seeing out in the field, and he’s right, don’t get me wrong. I’ve had my fair share, but not when we’re learning about it. He used to hold me after class and discuss the problem he was having with me.”

“Yeah, he was very opinionated.” Emily says as she takes a sip of her wine.

“Yeah..” Charlie agrees with a slight nod of her head. “He definitely was…” She cleared her throat after a few moments of silence and climbed off of the stool. She walks over to the sink and dropped her plate down inside as she leaned on the sink. “When I got the call about Gideon, I didn’t believe it.”

“It was hard for all of us to believe,” Emily says. “But it became real at the funeral.”

“There was a memorial service if anyone wanted to pay respects for him…. I didn’t go..”

“It wasn’t mandatory.” Emily says shrugging her shoulders.

“It wasn’t because of that. A few colleagues and I planned on flying back to D.C. to attend but I changed my mind.”

“Can I ask why?” Emily asks.

Charlie walks back over to the island and leans on the counter. “All I could think about was my father… He died when I graduated from the Academy. He was on his way from the ceremony to meet my mother and I in the capital for dinner. He had a stroke while he was driving and his car crashed into the metro’s barrier.”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry to hear, Charlie.” Emily says. “Sam never told me that.”

“That’s because I told him not to tell anyone.”

“But why?”

“Because my father isn’t someone that I want to miss.”

“Charlie…” Emily says leaning on the counter. “He’s your father.”

“You never knew him, Emily. My father was a monster. A monster to me and my mother. The only time he wasn’t was when he’s around a crowd. For example, my graduation. If there’s a crowd, he’s perfectly fine. If it’s just us three, he’s a monster.”

“What did he do?”

“He used to be a drug dealer but he was also an alcoholic. Living in the house for eighteen years was hell. College my escape but even that wasn’t enough. Every night I was the one getting the backlash of his drunken self. I took on the pain so my mother didn’t have to. She didn’t deserve anything he ever did. He’d slap her on occasion but I got the worst of it.” Charlie eyes started to water, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “I lost count how many broken bones I had and how many scars I have. I’ve grown to hate alcohol despite how much wine I have in the pantry.” Charlie wipes her face with the back of her hand. “If I missed curfew by a minute, I’d be beaten so badly I could barely sleep. I’d be in so much pain.”

“Were child services ever contacted?”

“Once.. But my father threatened us to fake us being a happy family until they left the house.” Charlie looks down at the counter. “I wish I had stood up to him that day and told the truth. Everything would be so different.”

“Have you visited his grave since he passed?”

“I visited Gideon’s grave before I visited my own father’s. If that doesn’t say something, than I don’t know what does.” Charlie says as she turns around to the sink and washes off her plate.

“And your mother? How has she been?”

“The happiest I’ve ever since her since my father passed. She’s been traveling a lot. With the money she got from my father’s passing, she paid off the house and used whatever was left to travel. Something’s she’s always dreamed of doing. She sends me postcards from every city she visits or letters if she can’t find postcards.” Charlie sets her plate and wine glass on the drying rack before turning to face Emily. “I vowed to give my children the life I never had… A normal childhood.”

Emily downed the last her wine. “So you’ve met the majority of the team..”

Charlie narrows her eyes at Emily. “I thought that was the whole team.”

Emily shakes her head. “We have an agent back in Quantico. She’s our Liaison.”

“I thought Sam said--”

Emily shakes her head. “Sam’s an old fart, Charlie. He always forgets about Lucy.”

“Lucy?”

“Lucinda De Luca.. Well she’s also known as Mrs. Reid.”

“Wait, Spencer’s married?”

“With three kids.”

“Holy shit.. Glad I decided not to flirt with him.” Charlie says making Emily laugh. “But De Luca. That sounds so familiar.”

“Well she should.” Emily says pulling out her phone and showing a picture of Lucy to Charlie. “She took the same classes as you under Gideon.”

“Ohhh! Now I know her! I remember she was this tiny, little thing in school.” Charlie giggles. “So she’s the Liaison now?”

Emily nods her head as she gets up from the bar stool and walks over to the sink. “She’s very good. Hard worker and a fast one too. She’s only one who is ever done before anyone else with the case files.”

“I’m surprised Spencer isn’t.” Charlie says as she takes the plate and wine glass from Emily.

“Lucy surpassed her husband months ago.” Emily chuckles as she leans sideways on the counter. “So what you say? Think you might join?”

“Give until this weekend and I’ll call you?”

Emily nods her head. “Fair enough. The Director isn’t pressuring anything.”

“So where are you staying tonight?” Charlie says.

“Where we always stay when we come into town.”

“Why don’t you come here? I can drive you to the airport tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“How would you be imposing if I’m offering?”

Emily smiles. “Then I’ll stay here. I just have to pick up my things from the hotel.”

“Great! On the way we can stop in Chinatown and pick up some food on our way back.” Charlie says. “Let me just go grab my coat and we can head out.”

If you enjoyed this part then please be sure to leave it some love, reblog it, and leave me your feedback!

Thank you! :)

#criminal minds #criminal minds au #the liaison #lucy de luca #lily collins #emily prentiss #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia #luke alvez #tara lewis #matt simmons

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yukiwrites · 6 years

Text

Worry, Realization and Love

Thank you so much for commissioning me, @killroy877! I hope you like it ;D

Summary: Robin was tasked by Chrom to help Noire have more faith in herself, lest she broken down during battle and took all of their allies with her. The tactician never realized how much he had been thinking about Noire, not until a storm stranded them both inside a cave...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

The battle against Valm raged on.

Stranded in an unknown territory and fighting for a desperate cause, the Shepherds had to be on constant watch for enemies. Say'ri knew where to lead them so they could be away from the Emperor's might, but they knew what it meant to be at war; and how to be ready for battle at the first signal.

They were headed towards the Demon’s Ingle to fight off Yen'fay's forces once and for all. However, for the past skirmishes, something had been bothering Chrom.

Not only him, but quite a dozen of his companions as well.

The Exalt approached his friend and tactician, Robin, placing one hand over his shoulder. "Robin, you know Noire, yes?"

Squinting, the tactician could already tell where this was going. "We all know Noire here, Chrom. I'm guessing you're talking about... that?"

"Yes, that." Chrom nodded, his expression sullen. "It's getting out of hand, and the people around her in battle can't focus. I want you to deal with this before someone actually gets hurt."

Robin crossed his arms, tilting his head towards his friend. "... You're just throwing this responsibility on me because you have no idea how to deal with it, aren't you?"

Chrom's brow flickered as he looked away, squeezing Robin's shoulder.

The tactician sighed, deflating in defeat. "You ass."

"Hah!" The Exalt snickered. "Thanks, Robin. I'm counting on you."

"Yeah..." Robin felt the urge to stretch his neck and shoulders, as though ready for a fierce battle. Well, he was going to fight something, in a sense.

Not only he had to deal with Tharja's stalking almost daily (she somehow lost the initial fervor after getting married to Donnel, though she was still persistent), now he would have to have a talk with her daughter.

Sure, Noire was a sweet girl. So sweet, in fact, that it was impossible to really get mad at her: she was always doing her best to be useful and not to get in anyone's way. Her mastery of the bow was unparalleled as well -- even the archest of archers recognized her skills, though by no means called her his superior.

She was a great cook, attentive to details, good with her hands and was also great at mending wounds. "I'm used to being sick and hurt, so I kind of picked up some knowledge over time," she usually said whenever someone praised her in regards to that.

Being a farmer's child, she, too, was in touch with nature, and knew how to navigate as well as survive in deep forests.

But, -- and that was the thing worrying Chrom out of his mind -- she was frail, both physically and mentally. Whenever she marched into battle, she would tremble so much it took her a long time to aim her arrows into the target. Don't get her wrong; she never missed a target and never delivered accidental friendly fire (those times with Inigo were... calculated), but the way she carried herself into battle raised the soldiers' overall anxiety.

Being her mother's daughter, Noire was an excellent lurker, -- neither foe nor ally could feel her presence behind them before she fired -- but that meant that the soldiers could always hear someone sniffling down their necks during the battle, despite not knowing where she was.

The poor thing would sometimes snap and laugh hysterically, firing so many arrows at once the allied swordsmen at the front could barely land a hit on the enemy before all foes fell to her bull's-eye.

She was doing her best, yes; but it was unnerving in more ways than one.

And now Robin was supposed to deal with it.

How, exactly? He knew Noire didn't mean anything bad by behaving the way she did; on the contrary, she always made sure to make herself scarce so as not to spook people with her... loud persona. And he couldn't simply spring up to her and tell her to 'steel herself' for battle.

Everyone was scared of marching into battle, no matter how composed they were. The sturdiest of knights still directed a silent prayer to Naga before any skirmish, no matter how small; the most talented mages still took a deep breath as they erected a barrier around them once the signal was given.

Noire was just a single girl doing everything she could to overcome her fears by jumping into action. She was frail, but she still fought on; she was physically weak, but she still lunged crates and heavy buckets about so as to do her part; she knew she was unstable, and did her best to avoid people whenever she exploded.

What could one say to someone so aware of themselves like that? Robin barely started on his task and was already at a stalemate.

"For now, I suppose I'll just talk to her..." he gave up thinking and headed towards the mess hall -- surely she would be helping someone as dinner was about to be served.

He hit the nail on the mark: Noire was just drawing water from the nearby stream to help with tonight's stew.

Robin approached carefully as she filled the bucket. "Good evening, Noire."

"EEK!! R-Robin!!" Startled, Noire let go of the bucket altogether, leaving it to flow along with the stream. "Oh, no! The b-bucket!"

"Wait, I'll catch it!" The tactician moved quick on his feet, jumping over the stream so as to catch the bucket as it swayed towards the opposing bank, catching it as it was about to hit some shallow rocks. "There, I got it!"

Noire placed both hands over her chest. "T-Thank you... I'm sorry I got startled like that, but please don't sneak up on me!"

"O-oh, forgive me for scaring you. I wasn't trying to conceal my presence or anything." He jumped back to where Noire was, holding the now full bucket. "Can I carry this back since I already have it?"

"B-but I volunteered to-"

"Actually, let me carry it, please?" He tilted his head to the side, not noticing how he smiled. Watching her gave him inspiration, somehow. She was always ready to help wherever aid was needed, no matter how menial the task was.

Noire fidgeted on her feet, looking around as though someone could jump out of the bushes and scold her. "A-alright, thank you for offering..."

Robin adjusted the bucket on his left hand. "No, thank you for letting me help."

Blinking, Noire didn't know where to look, and directed her gaze downwards instead.

"Actually, that's the reason I came looking for you." Robin broke the silence.

"... To help me carry water?" She stole a glance at him, a shy smile growing by the corners of her lips.

Robin noticed he liked seeing that expression on her face, but snorted with her remark. "No, not this, but your tendency of overexerting yourself."

Noire stopped on her tracks. "... Oh."

The tactician could feel how the temperature dropped slightly and gulped. "I know you only want to be useful, but forcing yourself to help or to fight will only make you feel more and more anxious about everything."

"..." Noire remained silent, her small and thin hands trembling in a tight clutch.

Robin almost reached out to her, unsure of what he was going to do. "Everyone's scared of being at war, Noire. From the strongest soldier to the smartest mage, they're all afraid. I don't think I can offer you the best advice on how to take care of oneself, given that I've overworked myself to losing consciousness and all... But!” He took a deep breath. “But I still want to help you, Noire. It hurts me to see you so scared and sad during battle -- everyone's worried, as well, not just me."

"E-everyone? So I'm really not good at all, am I?" She finally spoke, but her voice was so very faint that Robin needed to bend his head towards her to listen. "If... If I'm not being useful, then there's no need to keep me here!" She raised her head, displaying the tears which had sprung up in her eyes. "I can't even be useful by delivery a blasted bucket to the mess hall, so what's the point in keeping me?!"

"N-Noire," Robin gasped, putting the bucket down so as to reach out to her with both hands. "It's not like that at all, Noire-"

The archer sniffled, gulping down her tears. "Thank you for delivering the water for me, Robin. I'll... go rest or whatever you want me to do. It's like everyone only sees me for my frailty." She whispered, turned on her heels and ran off.

"Wait-" Robin meant to follow, but even if he did, he didn't know what to tell her.

And there was the water to take into account, too.

What a disaster! He really was looking at her from her frailty, and not from how hard-working she had been for trying to overcome her fears! He was only seeing how weak-willed she seemed to be, when in truth, she was arguably the strongest one of them all! She fought despite only wanting to go to a peaceful home; she did random chores no one seemed to bother to do despite the condition of her body because she felt the need to assert herself!

What could one say to someone like that?

Crestfallen, Robin returned to the mess hall with the water.

"Oh, thank Naga! I was about to go draw it myself." One of the cooks in charge accepted the bucket gleefully. "Watch the skies, mister tactician. I think we're in for a great storm."

"Hm?" Distracted, Robin tilted his head upwards. The sky was clear. "But there are no clouds...?"

The woman winked, pointing to the far, far horizon. "The wind's getting too cold for comfort, despite being spring. I wager anyone who lives 'round this parts or who is acquainted with the land can feel it too."

"That's something to take into consideration..." Robin placed one hand over his chin in thought, though the faraway storm was quickly blown out of his mind as it swamped itself with Noire.

She was carrying such a great burden... What could he do to help her?

The question never left his mind, even after two days of marching. He had tried to approach the subject with her more than once, but Tharja's genes were strong in her: she knew how to disappear.

Robin sighed for the nth time that day, slightly shivering from the cold weather that's finally caught up with them. The more they approached the active volcano, the worse the weather turned.

"It's an ambush!!" One of the scouts yelled by the edge of march. "They're waiting for us at the road leading to the volcano!"

Robin widened his eyes and but a glance to Chrom was enough to make both of them nod in agreement. "Pull the convoy back and prepare everyone who can bear arms to battle! We must press on! The Dynasts might still be behind us!"

"Sir, yes sir!" Soldiers yelled left and right, quickly getting into formation.

The battle soon flared as the enemy left their hiding spots towards the Shepherds.

"Archers, take the higher ground!" Robin ordered, getting between the front and back line, wielding his tome. Then, he hesitated, looking over his shoulder so as to look for Noire.

There she stood, trembling as a leaf, holding up her bow alongside her fellow archers. She gulped more than once, her eyes shining with tears.

Noire... Robin thought, his heart flaring up with emotion.

There wasn't much time to get distracted, however. The enemy soon broke through the Shepherds' makeshift defenses, diving deep into their formation.

The path was narrow, the woods around them were thick and they couldn't allow the enemy to reach the convoy. If their supplies were destroyed, so would they, especially in this foreign land brimming with enemies.

The archers pulled back towards the highest elevations they could find, be it tall ledges or treetops so as to give support fire.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Noire almost chanted as she bumped into them, trying to find a good shooting position. "We'll be okay, we'll be okay," she sniffled, her arrow trembling.

"Noire! Don't be scared! We'll drive them off!" Robin's voice echoed through the battlefield into Noire's ears, making her suppressed tears fall.

"D-Don't keep worrying about me!" She shot an arrow towards the enemy in front of the tactician, allowing him to look back to her. "I'll fight, I will... I m-must..." She cocked another arrow, but widened her eyes as quickly when an enemy swordmaster broke through the line towards Robin. "No!!" She shot.

"Whoa!" Robin closed his eyes as the arrow grazed his cheek, landing perfectly on the enemy's eyesock.

"No, no, no!" Noire dropped her bow, holding herself as though she could fall apart. "Nooo!"

"Noire!" Robin huddled himself through foe and ally alike towards where Noire had ran to.

"Robin!!" Chrom yelled from atop his horse.

"I'll bring her back! If we're not back by nightfall, we'll meet at the volcano!"

"Dammit, Robin, don't go off by yoursel-" Chrom felled an enemy, meaning to bark to someone to go after his idiotic friend, but every single soldier had their hands full at the moment. "Come back safely, at least!" He cursed under his breath, droplets of rain wetting his cheeks and sword. "Great, now visibility's about to be poor! Redouble your attention, men! We can break through!!"

Robin ran towards the woods Noire had fled to, his heart wrenching with worry. The storm predicted by the cook caught up with him before he did with Noire, but he didn't dare stop.

Not as puddles of mud hindered his movements, not as wet branches caught up all over his coat. He wouldn't stop until he brought Noire back.

"Noire! Where are you?!" He shouted over and over, despite barely being able to hear his own voice under the heavy rain.

Yet, somehow his ears caught on a very familiar sound -- of someone crying.

"Noire!!" He ran towards the sound, finding a shadow curled up under a tree. A lightning struck down a nearby tree, illuminating the area for a split of second.

But that was enough for Noire and Robin's eyes to meet. "EEK!" Startled, the archer jumped out of her skin from the loud bang.

Robin didn't allow himself to breath in relief. "Come on, we gotta find a place to hide! We can't go back like this; visibility's too poor!" He grabbed her by the arm and ran towards where he thought the mountain was, in hopes of finding a shelter under the rocks.

"I'm s-sorry, I'm so sorry...! I ran off during battle!" She cried, futilely drying her tears as the rain washed them anew.

"It's alright; what matters is that you're safe. For now, let's focus on finding shelter!"

"A-alright!"

They needn't look far -- there was a small cave by the edge of the woods they were in, and quickly did they run inside as lightning struck back and forth all around them.

Panting, Noire crouched so as to regain her breath, her entire body trembling. Shaking, Robin quickly looked around for dry branches and the like. "We need to keep warm!" He shivered, running towards the end of the cave. "C'mon, Noire, don't stay too close to the entrance."

"R-Right..." She dragged herself on her feet, striding towards him.

"I think this is a common resting spot for travelers, look," he pointed down to the remnants of a fire at the very back of the cave. "I think I saw a blanket on that corner... Someone must've forgotten it, but I'm not about to count my blessings."

"Mektch!" Noire sneezed, as cutely as a kitten. "T-t-t-that's great!"

Startled, Robin quickly stripped his coat, spreading it on the ground with a wet sound. "Hurry, take off your clothes!" He turned around to grab the blanket, shoving it on her after.

Noire broke.

"H-h-huh?!" She blushed furiously, helplessly holding the dry blanket over her wet body.

Robin placed his tome on the ground and resigned himself to using it as fuel for the fire. "This isn't the time to be bashful; we need to keep you warm! C'mon, I promise I won't look, so please...!" He frantically looked from her to the tome, momentarily forgetting the words he had to chant for the magic to work.

"O-okay...!" She sniffled and turned around so as to strip, trusting Robin would do the same. He was so... desperate. It even made her hope that it was all for her sake instead of just part of his job. "I'm done," she announced, wrapping herself with the blanket.

The moment she said it, the cave lit up with the crackling sound of the fire. "So am I! Phew!" He sat over the wet coat, drying his forehead. "C'mon, sit by the fire and warm yourself!"

Noire obeyed quietly, sitting beside Robin over his coat. She wrapped her arms around her knees, the blanket loosely covering her shoulders.

Robin used his bracers to dry part of her forehead, trying to keep his eyes away from her cleavage. "How are you feeling? Warming up?" He asked softly.

"... I'm sorry..." She said faintly. "T-thanks for coming after me; I think I'd still be under that tree if it weren't for you."

"I'm the one who has to apologize, Noire. I'm sorry for not taking your feelings into account when I shoved my ideals on you the other day." He cleared his throat, droplets of water falling from his drenched hair. "I more than anyone know how hard you're working to, say, deserve your spot in the Shepherds."

Noire blinked slowly, looking up endearingly. "... More than anyone?"

Robin coughed awkwardly. "M-more than anyone. I've been watching you for a long time, Noire. I know you push yourself to the breaking point to make people's lives easier, but that makes me so very sad. I wanted you to rely more on us, to share your troubles and to lean more on us, on- on me." He stuttered, sniffling.

Her heart thundering louder than the lightning outside, Noire opened and closed her mouth, suddenly feeling much, much hotter than a second ago. "R-Robin, I..." She looked at how his body shivered from cold and slightly lifted her arm, looking away from embarrassment. "W-won't you also cover yourself with this? I don't want to be the only one warm."

"N-N-N-Noire," Robin stuttered, and it had nothing to do with cold.

She dug her face between her knees. "P-please? I don't think I can say anymore if I don't feel your warmth here."

The tactician gulped, his throat suddenly dry. Noire was a beautiful woman, and it took all Robin had not to think about her slender nude body under that old and smelly blanket.

That situation; their desperate needs to protect each other from before; the way he never noticed how much he watched her and how happy seeing her smile made him... It all led to a clicking sound inside his mind.

He loved her.

By the gods, he loved Noire!

How adorable she looked at that very moment; too embarrassed to even face him, and still offering him a place of warmth... He could barely hold his tongue back from shouting his newfound feelings to the world, even it that world was composed of only him, Noire and a damp cave.

Still, he quickly did as she asked and stripped, slowly scooting closer to her under the blanket. As his cold shoulder touched her warm one, they felt a spark of energy running through their bodies.

"I... I just didn't want you to think I was useless." She confessed finally, wanting to pop that silence like a balloon. "We fought for our lives back in the future, and everything around us was dark. But when we came here, we had you. Your smile and your g-guidance made me want to b-be a better me. I want to fight to bring peace, and n-not just for my life, like it was before."

"Noire..." He whispered, reaching out to her.

She looked up at him with pleading eyes, his fingers trailing spots through her pale skin. "I-I also want to be relied on, you know? B-by... you..."

"Oh, Noire; but destroying yourself will only make me sad, instead!” He pressed his forehead on hers, not realizing how he panted. "I can't stand seeing you scared or overworked... I want to be there for you always! For anything! ... Do you understand what I mean?" Their noses rubbed on one another, their breaths intertwining.

"I do...!" She sniffled, pulling him to her, opening her mouth for a deep kiss.

Ah, how sweet she tasted!

Robin reciprocated the hungry kiss by exploring her mouth with his tongue, quickly wrapping his arms around her tender body.

Noire let herself be embraced, lowering her legs so her chest touched his. Her soft pressure made Robin's body be hit with a flash of energy and heat, slowly descending her to the ground.

"Mhn... Robin..." She bemoaned once their lips parted, Robin placing himself over her as she lied over his coat. His mouth didn't stop, however -- he trailed his tongue from her lips to her jaw, then her neck to finally her breasts. Sensitive as they were, she let out an adorable "eek," once he touched and tasted them, making Robin roll his eyes in pleasure.

He could feel his erection already pulsating, free and eager to please the wonderful woman under him. "Oh, Noire, you're so beautiful," he whispered as he went from one nipple to the other, making her rub her legs in anticipation.

She could feel herself gapping with desire -- of his touch, of his kisses, of his everything! "R-Robin...!" She dug her nails over his back, silently pleading for his entrance.

Inebriated with her alluring smell, adorable voice and fantastic taste, Robin turned his unfocused gaze to his beloved, once again taking her lips in a long and deep kiss. He adjusted her waist under him, bringing her closer to his dripping erection, promptly prodding it over her vaginal opening.

A moan died by her throat, her lips occupied by his; her body flickering with desire.

They needn't words for what came next.

Slowly did Robin put it in, mindful of how tight she felt around him. "Ro-b-gghan..." She gasped loudly, squeezing her eyes in pleasure.

"N-Noire, you feel so good...!" He let out an exclamation of surprise, closing one eye in pleasure. "Is it okay if I-mmph!"

"D-don't talk, n-not now." She huffed, wrapping both arms around his neck. "D-don't stop either."

Panting, Robin felt the thin thread of self-control snap and put it all in at once, her gasps of pleasure spurring him to do it again and again and again and again, the heat of their bodies merging into pleasure, melting into love and dissolving into strangled moans.

He took it all out and shoved it back in, each time becoming easier than the previous. She squeezed him with everything she had, adorably calling his name as pleasure held her tenderly. Her body shook with the orgasm first, overwhelmed by all the new sensations as tears of joy fell from her eyes.

"Oh, Noire...!" Robin gasped, liberating himself inside of her, a surge of pleasure washing over his body and sapping him of his strength. "Noire, Noire, Noire..." He whispered over and over, each word stealing a tear from the archer's eyes.

That night, they wouldn't need words to express their love.

Maybe tomorrow.

But tonight, the world was only Robin, Noire and their damp, love-filled cave.

#noire #robin #robin x noire #fire emblem awakening #fanfic commissions #a sin a day keeps the thirst at bay #my writings #Yuki's Commissions

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