#shoutout to my mother who took one look at me lying on the living room floor today and went “i dont think your depression pills are working”

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Huge shoutout to the lovely @perseusannabeth​ who obsess over Pride & Prejudice as much as me. After very politely threatening asking  me to write more of Nessian as P&P (I’m so glad Sarah made it canon that Nessian’s relationship is Darcy and Lizzie’s) she told me about THE lake scene in the BBC version. I watched all six episodes and fell in love, so I highly suggest you all watch it too.

Also, huge shoutout to @firebirdofscythia​ (I stole your Azriel line lmao) and the rest of the gc for being so supportive!! Enjoy

Pemberley’s Lake

Cassian was so tired it was a wonder he had not fallen from his horse, which made him realise that Azriel may have been partially right in telling him to take a break and go back to his state to rest.

Although he suspected that Azriel kicking him out of his office and practically throwing him in a carriage to Pemberley had more to do with the fact that Azriel had gotten sick of his mopey mood more than anything else.

“I shall never show my face in society again” Cassian had told a bored looking Azriel one afternoon, laying on his office’s floor as if it was the end of the world “I shall work until my eyes grow tired and my beard and hair are so long they reach the ground.”

“Stop with the theatrics brother. It is not becoming of you.” Azriel had answered as he shuffled a deck of cards.

“Theatrics!! Azriel for Cauldron’ sake I have no idea how I can keep on living after that refusal” he sighed from his place on the carpeted floor “There is not another woman alive who could hold my heart. It's lost forever. And now I shall live in regret and shame of not being enough for her.”

Azriel rolled his eyes so hard at his brother’s words it was a wonder they did not stay permanently like that.

“I shall grow old and drown my sorrows in the finest beers and wines, turning fat and bald. And after I have passed, my cursed ghost shall roam our country crying in despair over my terrible life”

That had been enough to make Azriel pack Cassian’s belongings and get his brother the fastest horse available.

“If it were not for the laws of this land” Azriel had mumbled after he had bid his brother farewell, wishing a good trip and forbidding him to appear in his office again until he had fixed that mood of his.

Breathing in the clear and fresh air of his home, Cassian was able to momentarily forget his troubled heart. But one look at the blue sky and he was reminded of the gray-blue eyes belonging to the lady who had made him, General Commander of the British Army, who had enough condecorations to fill his whole coat and who had made enemies tremble in fear when faced against him, wallow in self pity and misery.

Lady Nesta Archeron.

Her name alone was enough to make his chest tighten in longing.

Feyre’s oldest and most notorious sister, if not by her breathtaking beauty and intellect but by her ruthless and dismissive regard to the oposite sex. Whereas Feyre had surprised society by marrying before her older sisters  — and securing herself the best of matches of the season at that with his brother Rhysand, which was nothing but a Duke  — and Elain had enough suitors to fill a ballroom, the oldest Archeron did not seem inclined to marry at all. Oh she did catch the eyes of more than one gentleman  —  Cassian could vaguely reckon that she had had a long courting with Sir Thomas Mandray, although it had ended rather abruptly — but no one had been able to snare her heart.

That had been what had initially peaked his interest. He had briefly seen her at Rhysand’s wedding, attempting some small talk that was easily and diplomatically dismissed by her. He had then relentlessly engaged in conversation with her in any opportunity he could find, being it from the few occasions in which she frequented Feyre’ small reunions over tea or when he coincidentally met her during her daily walks around town to visit Lady Emerie, a modice whose popularity was raising tremendously after Feyre’s bridal trousseau and wedding dress were all designed by her.

It was not until Feyre’s first official gathering as Duchess that Cassian realised the depths of his feelings for the sharp eyed lady.

He had been watching the ballroom from the sidelines, trying to escape the mob of scary mamas who wanted to throw their daughters at him, a glass of champagne in his hand.

Rhysand and Feyre had already danced the opening song, so the floor was now free to hold more partners. Both Cassian and Azriel had danced once with Morrigan — Rhysand’s cousin and a dear friend of theirs — and Elain had enough names on her card that they’d have to wait a fortnight to dance with her. Nesta on the other hand…. she had refused all invitations, although one could not help but wonder why by the way she seemed to glow whenever a new song was played.

“Lady Archeron” Cassian had greeted, bowing deeply and throwing at her his best smile, one that usually had young ladies fainting and old ones blushing.

But not Nesta Archeron. No, she had only deigned to make a polite bow and look ahead.

“I could not help but take notice of how entranced by the music you appear to be, my Lady” he had offered her his hand “Would you do me the honour of allowing one dance?”

That had caught Nesta’s attention, and she turned towards him, her gray-blue eyes finally meeting his hazel ones.

“I do not think why I should. I am perfectly satisfied to watch from the sidelines” she raised a perfect manicured eyebrow, glancing in the corner where the mamas and their daughters were “I am sure many other young ladies would rather have my place”

Cassian knew she was lying. Knew she desperately wanted to dance, but something was holding her back.

“It is said that dancing is the best way to encourage affection. Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable” he had nonchalantly said

“I beg your pardon” Nesta had exclaimed

“The lady has nothing to fear. I will not let you suffer ridicule because of your poor dancing” he had said in a patronizing tone, if only to see that fire in her eyes ignite.

And to see her accepting his offer with a murderous intent.

They had moved to the center of the ballroom, shocked faces all around them, both from the fact that Nesta was joining the dance floor and her partner being him of all gentlemen.

Cassian had never been proved more wrong once the first string from the violin was drawn and Nesta moved. He had been sure she knew how to dance, had only said those words to get a rise from her. But to see Nesta Archeron actually dancing… it was something straight out of a dream.

Cassian knew the waltz. His mother had insisted that all three sons have the same education, even though only Rhysand was set to inherit the duchy.

However, when paired with Nesta Archeron one could not be called nothing but a simple object to display her talents. Even the most notorious dancer would pale in comparison to her.

And Cauldron, she knew that. Nesta knew she was Terpsikhore, greek Muse of music, song and dance.

What a fool he had been, what a complete and utter fool he had made of himself. His only consolation was that some good had come out of his childish behaviour.

Nesta Archeron was dancing, and when she danced she threatened to bring empires to their knees, for her beauty got inhumanly enhanced, her delighted smile sending an arrow straight to his chest.

Cassian realised he had fallen hopelessly in love with Nesta Archeron. If he was to be true with himself, he had been for quite some time, since their first exchange of words when she had all but dismissed him as a pesky bug.

And as the last note was drawn, as the whole ballroom breathlessly took in Nesta, in complete awe of her, Cassian decided he was going to marry her.

Was going to propose to Nesta Archeron right at that moment.

Using the excuse of getting some fresh air after the tiring dance, he walked them to Rhysand’s extensive and well lit garden, quiet enough that they would not be interrupted but not so isolated as to risk her reputation.

They had walked only a few minutes in the garden when Cassian declared his feelings. He all but tripped with his words, hoping Nesta could see past his fool’s act.

She had not.

She had refused his hand in the most brutal way, her words so articulately poisoned that Cassian felt himself a young boy again, desperately trying to achieve perfection so his father would dare to spare him more than a passing glance. Would not regret having adopted him into his household and given him a home.

He had uttered an apology, saying how sorry he was that his feelings had caused her such pain and disgust, reigning his temper enough to walk her back to the ballroom.

Cassian left town the same night, and had stayed in his office and headquarters training the new milicia since then, burying himself with work until Azriel grew tired of his awful mood.

Sighing, Cassian brushed his horse’s neck, eyeing the lake.

Maybe a dive in the cold waters of Pemperley would help clear his mind.

~•~

Pemberley was, in Nesta’s opinion, the most beautiful state she had ever seen. Even more than her newly married sister’s dukedom.

“However this house’s lady is, she sure is happy” Emerie commented as the head maid showed them to the music room.

“As if someone could be unhappy with this much money” Gwyn whispered back, eyeing the grand piano.

Nesta was inclined to agree, even more after having seen the library. She could not help but envy the lady. Her husband must be a very cultured gentleman.

“May I show you the external grounds? I am sure the gentleman will find it quite delightful” the head maid said, looking at Balthazar, the only men among their group of four.

“I am most grateful for your hospitality” he answered, and they promptly moved outdoors.

Their party of four had been travelling through the countryside for almost two weeks. It was as much as a vacation for Emerie and Balthazar — with Emerie’s shop the season’s current sensation and Balthazar being her current business partner  — as a time out from the ton, which Gwyn — the most required opera singer of the season — had announced to be in desperately need of a vacation from.

As for Nesta, she had always wanted to travel, but as a single woman of marriageable age without a male relative to escort her, it would have been a nearly impossible feat to accomplish.

When Balthazar had offered to escort both her and her friends Nesta had wanted to shout in delight.

Secretly, she also wished to avoid a certain gentleman, one whose heart she had mercilessly and regretfully broken.

Nesta shook her head as she walked through the garden, distancing herself from her party to think and remember.

Remember how she had enjoyed dancing with Lord Cassian.

How her body had sung and heated where his skin touched hers.

How she had found herself smiling and agreeing to take a stroll with him, using the excuse of feeling overwhelmed in the crowded ballroom.

How his smile had faded once she tore at him, throwing every hateful word his way to refuse his proposal.

Nesta had not seen Cassian since her sister’s ball, but she did not want to risk an encounter.

That trip could not have been more well timed.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice her hair getting caught in a low tree branch, ruining her intricate updo.

“No one is around” she muttered to herself as she took off the pins holding it in place “A few minutes with my hair down will not hurt”

So Nesta took each pin off, massaging her scalp as she walked in the direction of the state’s lake, the sun shining over its  clear waters.

And that is when she spotted him.

Cassian.

Cassian was at the lake.

Cassian was shirtless, dripping wet by the lake’ shore.

Nesta knew she should turn around and forget what she was currently seeing.

But she could not take her eyes off of him.

Seeing a shirtless man in person was indeed a far cry from what her imagination conjured when reading romance novels.

Especially the way the water was running down Cassian’s tanned and hard torso, all the way down his pecs and stomach — was that a six pack or were her eyes playing tricks on her? — until it collided with his pants, which were hanging so low on his hips that Nesta could not help but feel a weird sensation low in her stomach.

Her legs stopped obeying her, and she swore her knees got weak when Cassian noticed he had company.

“Lady Archeron?” he exclaimed, as if he could not believe his eyes.

“Sir!” was all she could say, feeling her cheeks warming.

Cauldron what was wrong with her? It was just a body. A very nice, very wet muscled body and—

“What may you be doing here?” Nesta quickly inquired, cutting her errand thoughts.

“I am the owner” he simply answered

“Of the lake?”

She wanted to smack herself. How could have she blurted such a stupid and rude question?

“Yes, of the lake. And of Pemberley” he answered, amusement lacing his words.

“I didn’t know. The head maid said all the family was not home— we should not have presumed—”

“I returned without prior notice”

“Excuse me, are you and your sisters in good health?” Cassian added, and Nesta dared to think that he sounded a bit nervous.

“Yes. Yes they are. Thank you, sir” she managed to answer, her eyes firmly placed upon his face and not anywhere else.

“I am glad to hear that” he licked his lips and Nesta could not help but wonder if they would be cold due to the lake’s water or if Cassian’s unbothered face meant he was not cold at all.

Was she really inquiring of how his lips would feel against hers? Against her skin? If kissing Cassian would feel as dreamily as her novel's kiss appeared to be?

Nesta hated him.

Did she not?

“I had never seen you with your hair down”

Cassian’s words took her out of her reverie, and Nesta suddenly felt self conscious.

“Do excuse me for showing myself in front of you with such an unsightly appearance” she felt mortified. To have Cassian of all people seeing her like that, hair in complete disarray….

Nesta quickly turned around, fumbling with the hair pins in a vain and desperately attempt of redoing her hair.

“It’s beautiful” she heard Cassian saying in a breathless voice, and thanked the Cauldron her back was turned so he would not see how her face warmed considerably, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Let me help you” he quietly added, and she gasped at the proximity of wet, shirtless Cassian, who touched her hair softly.

“How come a gentleman such as you knows how to hairstyle a lady’s hair?” Nesta asked, feeling his warmth on her back, a tingly sensation between her legs when his fingers brushed her neck.

“I frequently helped my younger sister, Georgiana, fix her own hair in the occasions she played a little too far from what would be deemed proper for a young lady” she felt his hot breath against her neck as Cassian laughed “She favours outdoors activities such as horseback riding, although she’s quite accomplished in arts and music.”

“Your sister sounds lovely” Nesta said, turning to face him once she felt he was done fixing her hair.

“She is my brothers’ and mine whole world. There’s nothing we would not do for Georgiana”

Nesta felt her heart warming at his words, at his devotion and love towards his family. She wondered if he would do the same with his wife.

If he would have acted the same way towards her had she accepted his proposal.

Unbeknown to her, Cassian was imagining the same thing.

He was picturing how he could have helped her every morning with her hair if she had agreed to marry him. Instead, he would have to live with this one memory forever.

He was lost in her eyes, their bodies so close they were sharing breaths and Cassian was holding back by a sliver thread of self control to not hold her against him.

If it were not for the appearance of three people — Cassian supposed them to be Nesta’s companions — he very well could have done that.

“Excuse me” Cassian abruptly said, bowing deeply and leaving Nesta alone.

Although soon her friends joined her, Gywn and Emerie bombarding her with questions seeing her ruffled state.

Their party was getting ready to depart when Cassian appeared again, having ran inside to get changed and appropriate.

“Lady Nesta!” he called before she could get inside the carriage “Please allow me to apologise for not receiving you properly just now. You are not leaving?”

“We were, sir. We have already imposed too much” she said, spine straight and looking every bit the regal queen she was.

What he did not know was that was her way of maintaining a cool exterior and not blush remembering his naked figure.

“You are not displeased with Pemberley, are you?” Cassian asked, anxiously brushing his hair back.

“No. Not at all”

“And you approve of it?”

“Very much” Nesta said softly, a dreamy smile on her face as she remembered the library “A few would not approve”

“But your good opinion is rarely bestowed and therefore more worth earning” he said, and his smile was enough to make Nesta’s heart skip a beat.

Why was she feeling in such a way, she wondered. Why did her body feel hot and strange all over whenever Cassian was involved?

“Thank you. That is very kind of you”

“I shall not hold you back any longer” he said, helping her in the carriage, his calloused hand a stark contrast against her soft one “I will call on you and I hope you can introduce me to your companions. Perhaps we may go fishing tomorrow? My property is blessed with an abundance of them”

“We would be delighted to. Thank you, sir’

After the farewells were bid and Nesta’s carriage was only a distant dot in the horizon, Cassian got inside, smiling broadly at his head maid and butler.

“You are very chipper, sir'' the old woman said with a knowing smile, the butler agreeing with her. Their lord had been mopey for quite some time now, so it brought joy to their hearts to see his mood so high.

“I had a very good evening Mrs.Pots” he declared, thinking about how he should swim more frequently in the lake.

A few miles from Pemberley, Nesta stared at the scenery lost in thought, Cassian’s touch lingering in her hand all the way back to the inn.

•

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[fantasynfiction]

[Oneshot] Words of Comfort

Pairing: Vincenzo x Cha Young (from KDrama Vincenzo)

Category: Oneshot

Rating: PG

Genre: Angst/Fluff

A/N: This is my entry for CCFC 2021 with the dialogue prompt: “I’m sorry for your loss.” The story took me longer to write than expected and actually there’s a second part to it. I’m still in the midst of finishing that so I figured I would just post this half first to help with the countdown to the finale. Thank you to @the-chayenzo-community mods for organising this. I’m really glad that I can contribute to this fun event. Also a huge shoutout to everyone in the fandom for making this journey even more special. Hope you guys enjoy the fic.

“Can I ask you more questions about the mafia?”  

Ever since the break-in at her father’s house, life with Cha Young as his roommate began. It was supposed to be temporary, but somehow days turned into weeks. Every time Vincenzo asked about the housing situation, she insisted that the window installation was still incomplete and denied all accusations regarding her fear of living alone by herself. Vincenzo knew she was lying about the windows, but feigned ignorance. There was a sense of reassurance in knowing that she was safe and not in danger or in need of saving. For safety purposes. He repeated those words in his head whenever he caught himself smiling at her weird antics. She’s just your partner. But it was getting increasingly harder for him to deny his growing affections towards the boisterous lawyer.

“I don’t have any attachment to this country.”

Who knew this statement was going to come back to bite him? He curses himself for being so naive back then, as he finds himself anticipating Cha Young's mafia related questions that had become a part of their bedtime routine.

“Just...”  

“...two questions.” She cuts him off dryly. “I know, I know. Mr Stingy Mafia.”  

“Shall we make that one?” He casually retorts, not wanting to miss an opportunity to tease her.

“Yah! You wouldn’t?” She sits up to protest and he tilts his head slightly to hide the grin that’s forming on his face, feeling satisfied with her reaction.

“So, what are you curious about today?”

She lets out an exaggerated huff before settling back into a comfortable position on the sofa, propping herself up on one elbow so she was facing him.  

“The boss who was like a father to you,” she begins, eyes fixed on him, “how did you both meet?”  

It was a simple question but somehow, he was taken back by it. Visions of his past flicker before him.  

-

An 8-year-old Joo Hyung is crying at the orphanage, fighting the realisation of his mother’s abandonment, as an Italian couple attempt to persuade him to come to Italy with them so they could build a happy home together. Despite the language barrier, he could feel the sincerity overflowing from them. He had no doubt that they were going to love him unconditionally. A love he didn’t know how to reciprocate.  

The seasons change and so does Joo Hyung. He could no longer deny the affections of his foster parents. They had become his family. Every moment they shared together brought joy and happiness that seeped into the cracks of his broken heart. However, the world had other plans for him and Joo Hyung found himself sucked into another one of its cruel little games.

Fast forward to that tragic night that changed the course of Joo Hyung’s entire existence. A window shatters. The commotion jolts him awake. Panic-stricken footsteps rush towards him. Warm, but trembling hands envelope him into an embrace. BANG. A gunshot echoes through the walls. He is forced under the bed. An encouraging smile urges him to stay hidden. Darkness surrounds him. Desperate pleas can be heard. BANG. Another gunshot rings in the air. He can feel his entire body shake. The intruder lingers in the house, declaring his name in victory. Joo Hyung vows to make the man pay.  

Hours later, he stumbles along the Italian streets barefooted and dazed with only vengeance on his mind. That’s when Fabio Cassano appears in his life. From that moment on, the young crying orphan Joo Hyung was gone. He was now Vincenzo Cassano.

-

He takes a deep breath to steady his thoughts. He ponders his answer, debating whether to reveal the truth to her. There’s no need to burden her with the stories of my past.  

“We met unexpectedly.” He said cryptically, “Just like us.”

Cha Young simply nods. She was never one to press for answers, especially with him. She always accepted him for who he was, despite everything she knew about him. He couldn’t help but open up to her, willing to risk it all just to see how far their relationship could go.

“Even though I was a nobody and we weren’t blood related,” he continues, staring blankly ahead, “he took me in as if I was one of his own and taught me everything there was to know to survive in this world.”  

“He must have foreseen your potential.” She pauses enough for him to notice. “Just like how my father did.”

He whirls around to look at her and his eyes are met with her gentle smile. His heart skips a beat. “I guess.”  

“You know for a mafia boss; he really does sound like a great man.” She quickly adds, trying to lighten the mood.

“He was.”  

“Ah...”

An awkward silence fills the air, surrounding them like the darkness of the night. They both averts their gaze onto the ceiling, fixating their eyes on the tacky glow-in-the-dark stars.  

“If he could see you now, I'm sure he would be very proud of you.” She finally says after a while, breaking the tension in the room. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

A surge of emotions course through him. Vincenzo couldn’t remember the last time someone had said such comforting words to him. He takes a glance at an unusually quiet Cha Young, who appears to be contemplating something.  

“Byeonho...”  

"So, about the second question...”

He lets out a tiny chuckle and gestures for her to proceed. Although he would never admit it, he could never say no to her. Their conversations continue on into the night and outside, a sleeping Inzagi coos happily on the window sill.  

[wazzupmrstark]

breaking curfew [part thirteen] || th x reader

A/N: shoutout to my gf @httpchrisevans for helping me with a line i was stuck on lol

Summary: When you got the job to be a counselor at the summer camp you’d grown up attending all your life, you expected to see some familiar faces. But you certainly hadn’t counted on having to work alongside the boy who had made it his life’s mission to make your life a living hell every summer. In fact, you thought you’d never have to see Tom Holland again. But he’s is in the cabin right across from yours with campers of his own- smirk, jawline, and all. If you didn’t know any better you might’ve thought that he applied for the position just to spite you, but who were you kidding? What kind of asshole would do something like that?

Warnings: swearing, angst

What I listened to while writing: the breaking curfew playlist by @cinnamon-roll-peter​​

Word Count: 2.6k

Series Masterlist

You spent a good fifteen minutes ironing your polo in Zendaya’s cabin after your shower that morning. You needed it to look as pristine in order to make a good impression on the parents this weekend. Well, as good of an impression as you could make with your arm in a neon cast.

Parent’s weekend couldn’t have come at a worse time for you. You already were a mess inside and out, and after that conversation with Fy you didn’t feel like doing anything other than crawling into bed and and hibernating for a few weeks until camp was over so you never had to face him or Tom ever again. 

“Jesus, y/n, I think all the wrinkles are out! You’re going to burn the fucking shirt if you keep doing that!” Z shouted and leapt off her bed to grab the iron from your hands. 

“Sorry, I just want it to look presentable,” you apologized and took a step back, rubbing your temples.

“It looks fine, babe. Any stiffer and I don’t think you’d be able to put it on.” She gave you a sideways look. “You okay?”

It was no use lying to her because she could always tell when you were so you just shook your head. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You gave another shake of your head and sighed. “I can’t start crying right now, we’ve got to go deal with these parents in like five minutes.”

“Is it about Tom because I’m still taller than him, I can still beat him up.” 

“Is it ever not about Tom?”

Z screwed up her face in distaste. “Bastard.”

“Easy, Tiger, you don’t even know what he’s done yet.”

“I don’t need to know, he's an asshole.”

 She had a point. “You have a point. But if anyone’s gonna beat him up it’s me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’d spend my life savings to see that.”

“Oh and what is that, twenty bucks?”

“What is that twenty bucks?” she repeated mockingly and flipped you off.

You rolled your eyes.  “Can you just get over here and help me with my shirt?”

Buttons were harder to do with one hand and on normal days you’d just take the extra time to painstakingly fasten them yourself, but since your best friend was right there you figured you might as well make her useful.

Once your shirt was buttoned all the way up and tucked into your khaki shorts (the uniforms were literally the best birth control) you made the trek back to your own cabin to wait for the parents. 

All the campers were at the dining hall for breakfast with the bonus counselors because the primaries were supposed to greet the parents at their cabins to avoid all the chaos... and potential tears, which meant you’d have to put on your best smile and pretend like everything was perfectly fine. It had seemed easy enough to do merely an hour ago, but now even thinking about it was making your head spin. 

But you’d have to do your best to push all of that down because a thin, blonde lady was making her way towards you with an expectant look on her face. You recognized her as May’s mother, and it didn’t surprise you that she was first. 

She reintroduced herself and shook your hand. “So how did you break your arm again?” she asked, not wasting any time. “It wasn’t while doing anything dangerous, was it?”

An email had been sent by your boss to all of the parents/guardians of your campers detailing the entire situation when it had happened just to keep them in the loop, but clearly this woman wanted to hear it straight from the source. It was evident that she’d been agonizing about it for weeks, wondering if her child was actually safe here. 

“No,” you reassured her, “it was during a counselors-only activity, don’t worry. There weren’t any campers involved.”

She seemed to relax a little and laughed artificially. “Oh good, my husband and I were a little spooked when we got that email, but I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

She actually hadn’t asked how you were doing and obviously didn’t really care either way so you just forced a smile. “Thank you.”

Then before she could mention anything else Grace’s dads arrived with Amalia’s parents not far behind. They each exchanged niceties with you before falling into amicable chatter amongst themselves, leaving you to hang back in silence. 

You were grateful not to have to participate and instead rocked back and forth on your heels as you anxiously waited for your campers to get back from breakfast. 

They’d been so excited last night while deep cleaning the cabin in preparation, they didn’t even complain about their chores. Theo had even offered to help the other girls with their tasks so it could get done faster, but secretly you knew she was only doing it because she was a bit of a perfectionist and wanted everything to be just so for the special weekend. 

Eva’s parents arrived next, then finally Theo’s mom jogged up to the porch just in time for the kids to return from the caf. 

There was a lot of loud chatter and laughter as the families hugged and got reacquainted with each other and it made your heart ache just a little. You remembered what it was like to be that young, to drag your mom and dad around campus for the entire weekend and ramble on about all of your activities and new friends and whatever else you could think of. You had to catch them up on everything they missed, tell them all of the stories you’d been saving all summer. The nostalgia was like a punch in the stomach on top of everything else and suddenly you weren’t sure if you’d actually be able to pull this weekend off. 

You gave them a few more minutes to talk before getting the parents’ attention and inviting everyone inside for a family circle time. 

The girls excitedly showed their parents their bunks and pointed out all of the decorations that had accrued on the walls of the cabin since the beginning of the summer. The coloring pages from that very first day, art projects and medals from daily activities, postcards from family, and dozens of developed pictures of the girls from your disposable camera hung up around the room. Your favorite was a photo of the six of you at the Wild West night from a couple weeks ago. Everyone had a different colored plastic cowboy hat on and was posing back to back with a partner holding up finger guns. You were back to back with Eva and the height difference between the two of you was absolutely ridiculous. Just looking at the picture made you laugh. 

Once everyone settled on the floor you cleared your throat and started the programming. 

“Good morning, it’s great to see you all again, glad you could make it. I’m y/n, cabin eleven counselor, and we’re so excited to get to share our camp life with you for the next few days! First, I’m just gonna go over the itinerary for the weekend and then you can hit me with any questions you have before we head down for the big group meeting.”

-

“How’re your kids’ parents?” Tom asked at lunch later that day as he casually brushed up against your ass.

You whipped around and smacked his hand away almost immediately out of instinct. Tom gave you a look like a wounded puppy and retracted his hand. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, still looking confused. “Are you... okay?”

“I-” you looked up and caught the eye of one of your parents back at your table and smiled painfully. “Yeah, I’m good.”

For whatever reason he pretended to buy it and shrugged. “Okay, well listen, I’ve been thinking and I was wondering if you’d consider switching activities back to arts and crafts with me?”

You almost dropped the jello you were putting on your tray, but Tom caught it smoothly before it fell. 

“What?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to come back to arts and crafts...” he trailed off awkwardly, “because, you know, we’re kind of in a different place now.” 

When you didn’t say anything he continued to stumble on. “I, uh, just thought it would be nice to spend more time together... not having sex.” 

You opened your mouth but words wouldn’t come out. 

“Whaddya say?” 

It was hard to remember why you were mad at him when he looked at you like that. But it was also hard to forget what he had done. 

“Y/n?”

“Um, I have to go,” you said suddenly and turned on your heel. “My arm is hurting. I have to go get my pain meds.”

“Wait, y/n-”

As you hurried out of the cafeteria you threw a look over your shoulder at Nicole asking to take over for you until you got back. You hoped she got the message. 

It felt like the whole caf was watching as you ran out of the room, leaving Tom standing there by himself. Your campers didn’t even blink as you rushed by them. They were pretty used to it at this point. 

The noise from inside faded into the background as soon as you stepped onto the grass. You looked around and realized you didn’t know where exactly you were running to, much less what you were really running from. 

You didn’t want to go to your cabin just in case Tom or someone else went after you. You didn’t want to go down to the lake where everyone could see you either. The bonus cabin wasn’t an option and neither was the canoe shed. You wanted to scream. For the first time in your life you felt trapped in your favorite place on earth. It was suffocating, being stuck on this mountain with all the people from your past, but there was nowhere to go. 

You ended up sunken down in the back seat of your van, playing with your keys as tears streamed down your face. It felt stupid to cry. You’d known Tom for over half your life, and you’d known exactly the kind of person he was when you started sleeping with him. You really played yourself with that one.

You wished you could spend the rest of your day hiding from Tom in your car, but you still had a cabin full of campers and their parents waiting for you. You couldn’t stick them with Nicole for too long. She had her own responsibilities to take care of this weekend too.

-

Your girls were ecstatic to have their parents in town. It was all they talked about that evening after they were dropped back off at the cabin. 

“My dad said your cast is cool,” Grace said as she climbed into her bed. 

You finished looping a hair tie on the end of Theo’s braid and looked up. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, he said he had one too when he was your age and that casts make you look cool, but my other dad just laughed at him and said he wishes.”

“Well, tell him I say thank you,” you laughed.

As your campers finished getting ready for bed you went around the room like you always did and picked up anything that was lying on the floor. You kicked some stray shoes under the beds so no one would trip on them in the middle of the night and turned off the light before saying your good nights. 

“Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

They had started saying it back to you just recently and they were slowly getting better at saying it all in unison too. It made every night a little sweeter. 

You expected your mind to be swimming with thoughts of Tom that night, but you found yourself thinking about your girls instead. Parents weekend had always been bittersweet for you because as fun as it was, it also meant that the end of the summer was right around the corner. You felt like you had just started to get to know your campers and now in just a few weeks you’d be saying goodbye.

-

It was Sunday evening when Tom managed to corner you next. You had spent all weekend avoiding him by sticking close to the parents in your group, always pretending to be engaged in a conversation when he came anywhere near you. And it always worked, but now the parents were gone and you had to fend for yourself. It felt oddly similar to being dropped off at college for the first time and feeling completely lost.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” he asked you as you walked up to Harrison’s cabin.

It was then that you realized that you’d fallen into a trap. Haz had texted you asking to bring the geocaching clues over to his cabin so he could go plot the course for tomorrow when really he was probably just doing a favor for Tom by getting you here.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lied, biting your lip as you did.

“That’s bullshit, you haven’t talked to me all weekend, you haven’t texted me back, you’ve been ignoring me-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you gave a fuck about me all of the sudden,” you snapped bitterly and pushed past him to go back down the stairs.

“Wha- I was just worried!” Tom said defensively and sidestepped back in front of you.

“About me?” 

“Well, yeah,” he admitted. “I’m sorry if I made things weird by asking about arts and crafts. We don’t have to have that sort of relation-er, friendship if you don’t want to.”

You never thought you’d hear Tom say the word friendship in reference to you. The word alone sounded foreign rolling off his tongue, like it was something he wasn’t really sure about.

You scoffed. “This isn’t about that.”

“Then what is it about?” he asked, practically begging now.

“It’s about you spending over a fucking decade trying to embarrass me!”

Tom looked bewildered. “Are you kidding me? That’s what this is about?”

“And don’t you dare say we were just kids, or that it wasn’t that big of a deal because it was a big deal. To me.” He still looked confused so you decided to spell it out for him. “Why did you tell Fy that I had a crush on you that summer?”

The memory flickered in front of Tom’s eyes as he realized what you were talking about and his expression shifted into one you couldn’t read.

“I spent weeks trying to figure out why he stopped talking to me, wondering what I had done wrong to make him not want to be friends with me anymore.” You were crying again, but this time you didn’t care. “Then one day after total radio silence I get a note from him saying to meet me on the dock after curfew? And you show up instead? Don’t you realize how fucked up that is? And now all these years later I let myself fall for you like all the girls I swore I’d never be. I fell for you even though you made my life hell every summer for years, even though you hated me and I didn’t even know why-” you stopped to catch your breath and sighed, shaking your head. “It’s... it’s fucking embarrassing.”

“Y/n,” Tom reached out for your shoulder, but you jerked away. Only then did you realize that he was also crying. He took a step back and pushed a hand through his curls like he did when he was trying to get his thoughts together. “Fuck, I- I messed up really bad.”

“You don’t say?” you chuckled dryly and rolled your eyes. 

“No, you don’t understand,” he insisted.

“Enlighten me then.”

“I only signed that note as Fy because I knew you wouldn’t show up if it was from me.”

idk why this part was so hard to get out but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[miss-choco-chips]

Janet Drake...

...and the time her son went to a Gala for her. But because it’s Gotham, of course all went to shit.

Or, Tim always begged for a little brother. Then he got Damian, and now he’s sorry he even asked.

(Shoutout to my girl @the-quiet-carrotcake who asked for Tim at an event trying to defuse a situation. Ye ask and I shall deliver)

---.---

All things concerned, the night wasn’t going so bad. Granted, he was taking cover behind a turned table to avoid getting shot, desperately clutching Damian’s hand because the kid seemed ready to jump over it and take a swing at the enemy, but… well. He could think of worse scenarios.

For one, Batman could be in town. Sure, it’d be better, in this circumstances, to have the Dark Knight crashing through the crystal roof to put and end to -a quick glance over the table- Two Face’s scheme of the night, but hey, bright side, he didn’t need to worry about Damian and his father meeting yet.

Also, Dick and Jason could be here, caught in the crossfire with all the other party attendants. As it was, Tim was fairly sure they’d be showing up soon, in a completely different suit, and since the whole ball room was now decorated with bullet holes, the party would have to be cut short. Score.  

Also, mom would freak out once she heard Tim had been caught in the middle of a shooting on the one party she asked him to go to in her place, and thus would never ask him to endure this torture again. 

On the flip side… Damian was no longer holding his hand. 

He jumped over the table without a second thought, cursing the kid under his breath, totally exposed to projectiles but desperately needing to make eye contact with the brat, even if just to murder him with his glare before dying.

As expected, Damian was sneakily making his way closer to Two Face’s goons, who were speaking about some new law the mayor was planning to make, and how half the attendants were possible votants on it passing or not… or some bullshit like that. Tim couldn't focus on them now, okay, he had a very dangerous, very stupid pre teen to capture and drag back to safety, assassin trained or not.

Of course, that was the moment another Rouge choose to make her appearance. What the hell was Poison Ivy doing here? 

A little to his left, he watched a businessman, Mr Withyork shrinking into himself, trying to look as small and unnoticeable as possible. Wasn’t this the dude planning to build a mall on a wasteland a little south to Diamond District? Since wildlife had flourished there, it was no wonder Ivy had some opinions on the matter. Also, if Tim remembered right, this particular man was one of the confirmed votants that would reject the law passing, which went along with Two Face’s preferences.

For a full minute, the goons and the plant lady just looked at each other, completely stumped. It wasn’t often that one Rouge’s scheme clashed with another: the same man they had to protect, she intended to kill.

Looking at the half cooked goons, and then at the majestic plant goddess, Tim had a hunch on who’d win if they ended up crossing blades. 

And Damian was still inching closer to the criminals.

Fuck it all to hell.

-Emm, Doctor Isley! 

The entire room went dead silent. Damian, directly behind one of the goons, dropped the knife he had managed to smuggle in despite Tim’s careful check before leaving the manor. He was staring at Tim like one would a bunny who jumped directly between wolves fighting for territory, offering itself as a snack for the ravaging beasts. 

It… wasn’t so far away from reality. But it was all his fault for making Tim take action to keep him safe, and he told him so with a glare before returning it to Poison Ivy, the obvious prime predator in the room.

Well, he already started…

-If you’d allow me, Doctor, I might speed this thing for you, no need for you to dirty your… -he looked at the vines, slowly and steadily making their way to Mr Withyork- babies.

Ivy raised an eyebrow, casually swinging her hips as she made her way to where he was standing, on the middle of the empty dance room, holding himself tight to avoid the disgrace of shaking. Men and women watched from behind their covers, some gasping at the inevitable slaughter they were about to see, but not moving a finger to help him. The only one looking kinda relieved was Mr Withyork, since Ivy’s vines left their path towards him to tangle around Tim’s ankles. It didn’t hurt, but it was a clear warning: don’t run.

He did his best to keep his eyes on her, despite the fear icing his veins. Looking somewhere between her mouth and eyes, not daring to let his gaze rest on either for long, and absolutely refusing to allow them  to wander even lower; that was a death sentence waiting to be signed.

She hummed appreciatively, stopping just in front of him. Tim could barely make out Damian’s silhouette in the background, stealthily taking the weapons on the goons slacked hands. Everyone’s gazes seemed to be on Tim and the ruthless criminal he was currently trying to persuade. 

-So polite -she noticed, tilting her head and twisting her body slightly, the new posture making her chest area more prominent. Tim kept his gaze firmly above the chin. She smiled, and if he were a smaller (dumber) kid, he’d think her charmed-, and a gentleman, too. What are you, eleven? Ten?

He swallowed, hard.

-Thirteen, Doctor. I’m small for my age, I’m told.

She made the little humming sound again, eyes scanning him up and down.

-Well then, I’m waiting. You said there was a way for this to end peacefully. I don’t mind the other way, but for a little thing like you to speak up… You deserve to be heard, at least.

Tim stood straighter, breathing deeply. His head wasn’t already rolling, so it was a good sign, right? She seemed amused by him, at least.

-Drake… Drake Industries is looking into real estate, to build a green area. To… to help against pollution. It’s, ah, a charity I talked my mother into creating… Mr Withyork’s wasteland would be perfect for this endeavour. Would that be okay with you? I can assure you, on my life, that we’ll make sure to protect any and all wildlife within those bounds, and…

He started to stammer when Ivy’s face came closer to his, examining him silently. 

-I could just kill anyone who tries to build something there -she purred-, no need for you to worry your pretty little head over it, child. 

He swallowed again.

-But… but then your plants… they’d be stained with blood and body parts… -he tried, nervously looking behind her. Damian was slowly inching closer to him, apparently done with taking the unsuspecting thug’s firearms.

-Good fertilizer -she shrugged, unbothered, but still too damn close. She seemed to find amusing Tim’s desperate attempts at looking anywhere but her chest, which she had purposely put directly on his field of vision.

-But… Damian! -he shouted abruptly, noticing how said brat was now just behind Ivy and brandishing a dagger. Quick as a whip, he reached past her, took Damian’s arm in his and dragged him behind his own back, using all the training he received from Nicole’s friend, Shiva, to smoothly disarm Damian and hide his weapon on his own coat, without Ivy noticing it. Good thing she was so close, then, since her own vision field was thus reduced.

At Ivy’s arched eyebrow, he quickly changed tracks. Turning and hugging Damian’s head tightly against his chest (to keep him from speaking), he raised his eyes to the criminal with his best cow eyes, the ones that more often than not got his mother to surrender.

-Damian, my cousin… he’s… he’s so young, Doctor Isley. Please, I just… I want to keep him from seeing something like that for as long as I can.

Said innocent lamb started to furiously fight against Tim’s hold, undoubtedly with something to say to that. Tim bent his head closer to him, whispering into his ear.

-Stay still and keep quiet, or I swear to whatever God you answer to that I’ll leave you to fend for yourself against my mom once this is all over with.

Damian froze. Tim looked at Ivy again, one hand carefully stroking Damian’s hair, eyes widened with surrow.

The woman clinically analyzing them seemed to rethink her opinion on Tim, head tilted in confusion. A spark of warmth lightened her eyes like a poisonous flower.

-You are a brave little seed, speaking up like that for him -Ivy mused, eyes twirling. She gave him a smile-. Fine. I’ll allow that scum to live today, as long as he sells the property to you, and you give it the promised use. If I find out you are lying…

-I’m not -he blurted out, letting Damian go but taking his hand hostage, making sure to keep his grip irontight. The little shit better not run away again; Tim doesn’t think he can face off against another criminal today-. Thank you so much, Doctor Isley. 

Ivy grinned, a little charmed despite herself, and looked over her shoulder to Two Face’s thugs.

-I’m done here. Tell your waste of space boss to not meddle in my business again, or else.

‘They never did’, Tim refrained to say. The moment she stepped into the room, they had put a halt to their actions, and even before that, it’s not like they were there to specifically target her. But still, mom didn’t raise no dummy, so he kept his mouth shut, head bowed to the Rouge.

He startled, taken by surprise when he felt her hand reaching behind his ear. Damian made an aborted motion to shove her away, and Tim was quick to hid it by twisting his body in front of his, acting as if he were looking at his reflection on the window by their right. He could hear Damian growling at his back, but better pissed than dead.

There was a flower, on his hair. Pretty big, blue with some grey splashes, and a touch of golden pollen. The contrast against his dark hair was startling, but it did look good with his eyes. Briefly, he wondered if it was poisonous, and just how pathetic it’d be to die because of a flower.

-There, little seedling. If you ever want to venture into my domains, that should assure none of my babies eat you before you can reach me -and with that she stepped away, letting her plants take her through the broken window she had entered by.

He had survived. Miracles of miracles. And judging by the shadows he could see about to break through the crystal roof, Nightwing and Robin were here already, so the thugs (disarmed by Damian, not that they were aware of the fact yet) were mostly done for.

This was as good a moment as any to faint, he guessed.

Everything went black, the last thing he heard being Damian’s scared shout. Even unconscious, he never let go of the little shit’s hand.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

26. I Hate This Fandom, and I Hate All of You

I absolutely stole this line from an old friend in the Glee fandom, because it’s one that I think about EVERY TIME a fandom gets on my nerves, much the way that even this fandom does and in particular Simon stans. Idk what to tell y’all if y’all feel some type of way... be better people. ANYWHO! Shoutout to my friend for a quote that still means a lot to me 10 years later. Word Count: 4119

Previous

There was a lot of buzz surrounding the mini vacation for Simon’s birthday. Their families were together in Belize. Simon’s photos only reflected Simon either being with Grace and Hazel on the trip, or Grace. For the type to hyperfixate and go through everyone’s pages, they could find entire group photos and stuff on Mr. Laurent’s and Mrs. Monroe’s pages as Mr. Monroe didn’t have social media and Mrs. Laurent’s wasn’t sophisticated (inspirational quotes and recipes and DIYs that she was never going to actually try). Simon’s selected photos always looked like professional stills of the scenery, candids and capturing all the beauty possible, while Grace took hundreds of photos of everything from hijinks and mishaps to food to selfies, and they always just looked like somebody living her best life.

But, someone asked, “Are you in Belize with Grace Monroe?” on Simon’s photo of a pair two pairs of bare feet in the dirt - one an older person, dark brown skin, several scars from previous damages and new callouses, and a younger person’s lighter brown skin and cutesy temporary tattoos on the base of their feet. 

“Grounding, also called earthing, is a therapeutic technique that involves doing activities that “ground” or electrically reconnect you to the earth. This practice relies on earthing science and grounding physics to explain how electrical charges from the earth can have positive effects on your body.” Simon had put as the caption. In the same photo set, you could see an image of his own feet in the dirt, and...

“These are Grace and Hazel Monroe’s feet, right???” When they flipped through the set, there was near the end of several pictures of the landscape and sky, silhouettes of two people in the sunset - remarkably shaped like Grace and Hazel dancing in the dirt.

“OMG OGM GOM MOG MG OOMG…”

“Simon and Grace are BACK ON y’all!”

“Grace is letting Simon post photos of her! You all know that she’s very secretive about Simon these days, and now they’re in Belize and he’s posting photos! We WON everybody!”

“GRACE???”

Grace’s comments were a little bit less like that. A little bit. She had almost forgotten how “Simon’s fans” could get. She had looked up one of those “foods to order when you’re in Belize” articles and gotten everything on the list, took a photo of the table top and captioned, “About to go IN!” And less than a few moments later, had SO MANY, “Are you with Simon/Simon is gonna eat most of that/Save some for Simon/What did Simon order/So jealous that you get to eat all of that! Save room for desert AKA Simon!” That was the point where she decided to go on a comments black out. There could be no more comments on whatever photos that she took for the rest of the trip. Simon left his open, though. It blew his mind that half a year ago, people were telling him that they were disappointed in him for hurting Grace and lying about it, or that they were disappointed in him for trusting Grace again after everything, and now SOME of those very same people were extremely excited just to see them having brunch together that they were already working on wedding date headcanons and pregnancy foreshadowing. This entertained him. Grace wasn’t as much of a fan and contacted Hazel’s social media rep to ensure that any comments or questions about Simon were promptly deleted from any of her pages. Sometimes, they did that too. That was less amusing to Simon. He really believed that kids should be left out of things like that.

Simon knew that he was the reason that they didn’t last, as friends or otherwise and he had come to terms with that, but he still wanted her to be able to forgive him someday, trust him again and let him be a part of her life. This wasn’t her intention with this trip, so he definitely couldn’t take it as a sign. She was enjoying Belize with her daughter and making the most of the fact that her parents had foolishly invited him along, thinking it could be beneficial in some way. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to enjoy his limited time with her to the fullest. 

Plus, he and Hazel had made some small steps to acceptance on her tour of their memory lane. Surprisingly to him, Grace was very open with Hazel about her wrongs. She did tell her about how she fought and hunted down Simon’s bullies, how she stabbed one with a fork and kept it just to remind herself of that day. She told her things that Simon never would have wanted to ever let his kids know that he had done. Hazel just hugged her, told her that she understood her pain better now and that she was proud of her for being able to be a good and strong person now. She posted something about her mom being her hero and being so glad that she had somebody like her in her life. It was really cute. 

Simon went to follow her on her social media and someone even noticed THAT. “Simon Laurent is now following Hazel Monroe on like everything!” They posted with screenshots of his name following each account and an eyeballs emoji. He… blocked the person. He didn’t block people very much, but where Hazel was concerned, he didn’t want any of his stuff to bleed over into her space. Grace wouldn’t like that and he didn’t like it, either. 

He and Hazel had spoken about the charm bracelet. She had been chronicling the charms with their stories, and said something like, “I feel like I’m wearing a sacred relic on my wrist.” 

“Speaking of…” Simon had said, and reached into his satchel. “I made you copies of something…” 

He showed her some pages of what could ONLY be two Esmoroth books and she squealed, hugged them to herself and stuck them in her own tote. “Expect my notes on them, soon.” He gave her a salute. Grace watched them interact and she couldn’t remember many moments that he talked to kids - like she had seen him at work with them and even sometimes whenever she caught part of one of his scouts things, but seeing him and Hazel sort of bonding affected her. She was equal parts cautious and soft. Simon seemed genuine though, and that only became more noticeable during the trip.

He was doing stuff like making sure she was walking on the inside when they went down streets, reflexively shielding her in crowds, helping her over, up onto stuff whenever she looked like she might struggle - things that Grace would normally do/try to do but wait it out to see if Hazel could do it herself or ask her if she needed help. Simon jumped into action and it didn’t seem to bother Hazel, so Grace was able to watch her get babied a little bit. It was cute. She snapped several photos, just for herself, though. 

They got back to the villa to see that Mrs. Monroe had arranged another dinner. “This woman, I swear,” Grace mumbled. Simon laughed a little. 

Mrs. Monroe announced, “We had a spa day and I got the Laurents makeovers. The three of you get washed up and dressed. The photographer is already here and I don’t want him to catch you three looking like… This.” she circled her hands at them, then waved them off. 

“What… should I wear?” Simon asked as they walked off.

“I’ve set your outfits out!” Mrs. Monroe called at his back, “All of you!” 

“I really feel like I’m 15 again,” Grace said shaking her head. Simon let out a grunt of agreement. 

Hazel wondered, “This is what 15 feels like???” Not her 15. Grace was NEVER gonna do this type of stuff to her. But, the occasional bossiness of GlamMother Monroe would be fine. ONLY on occasion. 

They reconvened with the family on the patio, overlooking the water as they were relaxed enough to not be as uncomfortable as at the birthday dinner. Hazel and Simon were talking about how far along she had gotten in his book, which she had her copy of at the table and was going over notes so far (she was pleased with where it was going and she enjoyed the angst between the Future King and the Idol Princess, “A lot more than I would have before everything I learned about you and my mom,” Grace heard her say. 

“Do you want more?” Grace heard an unfamiliar voice ask. 

She turned to see Mrs. Laurent staring at her with gray eyes… Simon’s eyes. Ugh… This is where he got those? She forced a smile and shrugged, “Someday.”

The woman leaned closer to her and said, “It gets tougher whenever there’s another. You have a hard time juggling the same amount of love that you have in you between more bodies.”

“I don’t think I’ll have that problem, but I’m going to take everything that the professionals say into consideration whenever I begin to think about expanding the family.”

“Simon was really easy. You just give him a little block set or something to build and he would leave you alone for hours. His sister needed constant attention. She just couldn’t stand not being focused on. I could easily leave Simon alone for half a day whenever he was 6. Hope couldn’t be left for a couple of hours, even having someone there with her…”

“Leave her alone,” they heard Simon growl at his mother in a low voice. The woman frowned and sat back in her seat. “Are you okay, Grace?” Simon looked at Grace’s hands clutching the table. She looked at them too, and released her grip, then saw Hazel, looking at her concerned and looking at Mrs. Laurent suspiciously.

“Yeah. She was just talking about motherhood.”

“About how she was terrible at it?” Simon asked.

“Simon…” Grace started.

But Hazel interjected, “Not everybody has a mom like you, Grace.”

“My mom isn’t perfect…”

“I think she meant a mom who is like you,” Simon said. Hazel nodded. “Some of us got hit a lot and yelled at, called names…”

“Abandoned in a field for days…”Hazel added. “Not to say that GlamMother was better! Just… sometimes it’s harder to trust people again, depending on what they did and well… as a mommy, doing bad stuff to your kid makes it so hard to even be nice.”

Grace nodded and adjusted Hazel’s braids. She had braided her hair whenever they were on the plane, to pass the time on the long flight. “I understand. I’ve been hurt by somebody that I thought really loved me before…” Simon blinked and turned away. Hazel gave him a sympathetic glance. Grace added, “But, I’m really trying not to be angry with them forever, and I think maybe our moms might be able to inherit a little bit of the same kind of forgiveness that we would want from others.”

Hazel scoffed, “She is definitely talking to you, Simon. There’s no way I’m forgiving any time soon.”

Simon said, “Noted,” and stared into his cup. He sat for a while longer and then took his cup and left the table. Hazel lowered her eyes, avoiding looking at Grace. 

Mrs. Laurent offered, “He’s always been really sensitive. I’ll go…”

“No,” Grace said. “You… stay.” She stood up, glanced at Mrs. Laurent, slid Hazel’s chair away from her a little, basically letting Hazel know not to engage with that woman (though Hazel seemed to be the only person that the woman was kind hearted to, probably reminded her of her daughter or something). Grace found Simon pacing and clenching his fists. She turned to leave. This was a private moment, but he glanced up, saw her and stopped moving. She winced and clasped her hands together, “I was coming to check on you.” He relaxed a little and sat down on the nearby stairs. 

She leaned against the rail and explained, “I’m not saying that you have to forgive your mom if you want me to forgive you. That’s not what I meant to convey. I just mean… that I try to think about things from the other person’s shoes a lot more than I used to. I remember right before I snapped, I asked my mom if you really believed all of the things you said about me, or if you were just a really good liar. I still don’t really know for sure what the answer is and I don’t think you do, either. And, whenever we don’t even fully know ourselves, how can we possibly know what others are going through? For all I know, you’re in the most pain that has ever pained anyone. I couldn’t say. What I can say is that I won’t let your pain be an excuse to hurt me, and as long as you aren’t hurting me, I see no reason to punish you.” She sat next to him. “But, maybe you and your mom can’t be like that, and that’s valid. I was just throwing something out in the air. I probably should have thought it through.”

“It’s true though. The stuff I did is just as unforgivable as the stuff she did. How can I expect you to ever trust me again when I’m not willing to do the same with her?”

“I mean… you and me are different people. You and her are different people. Not everything is interchangeable.”

“Any time I’m near Hazel, you look like at any moment, you expect me to throw her into the ocean. It feels really bad, but I get it. So… I know that she MIGHT be hurting too. It’s just… so hard. And to think that this is the way that I make you feel when I’m around, trying to pretend that I’m normal… It’s the most painful part. What can I do though? I made it this way. I did things that can’t be undone. Even in trying to rectify it, that’s just… treating an injury. I’ll never be able to remove the scars.” He had tears falling down his face, which he wiped away before she could have the chance to feel bad. “And you’re the last person that I should be whining to about it, because you’re the victim in this story.”

“A survivor,” she corrected. “Who has chosen to try to understand. Let’s give each other a little more space. We went around town, living in the old days and that maybe threw us a bit out of reality’s orbit. You were fine before we hung out..” He opened his mouth to debate, but she caught herself and corrected, “Well, not fine, but better. And… you need to get increasingly better. Until you’re well.” She got up and he watched her go back out and collect Hazel. They turned in early that night. He went back out to talk to his mom… 

.

The Laurents were awake early and the only ones in the kitchen with Hazel whenever Grace emerged from their quarters. Mr. Laurent had made pancakes and eggs, and Hazel was stuffing her face and reading. Simon was next to her, ready to protect her, if he had to, while his mother was nursing a cup of coffee with a full, cold plate in front of her. “Good morning!” Grace cheered and kissed Hazel on top of the head, then Simon, though she awkwardly cringed after she did. He blushed, but didn’t make a big deal out of it. Yeah, she requested space, but she was also always affectionate and they had been around each other a lot the past few days. 

“Good morning,” Mr. Laurent said. “Plenty of pancakes and eggs!” 

“I’m having breakfast with my parents, but thank you for the offer,” she said in a fake sweet voice. “Hazel, why don’t you go get ready for the day. We’re spending it with your grands.”

“Yes!!! They give the BEST day out presents!” Grace sat down, and Simon noticed that with the off the shoulders blouse she had on, he could see the tan marks on her now even darker brown skin. He… liked tan marks. And… her hair smelled really good. Her lips looked so moist… She squinted her eyes at him and he quickly turned away and grabbed his plate and Hazel’s to clear them from the table. 

“What do you all have planned for the day?” She asked.

“I’m going to take Samantha to the beach,” Simon said. 

“If you can find her. I told you to keep her in her crate,” Mrs. Laurent said.

“I let her out in my quarters, not in the entire villa. She’s somewhere in my space,” he said. They had been bickering. He told her that he was trying to forgive her, because forgiving her might mean being able to forgive himself for the things that he had done. She told him that even if she tried for the rest of her life, she couldn’t forgive him for what he did to Hope… So… They weren’t any closer to whatever it was Grace was at in her growth journey. “I might do something with my hair,” Simon said, shrugging his shoulders as he washed dishes and returning his attention to Grace’s question. “Since I have that patch on the side from getting kicked in the head, I sort of want to do something Viking looking or elvish… Maybe a braid and a side do.”

“That sounds hot,” Grace said. He blushed again. “There might be something in Hazel’s Celtic book! There were some hairstyles in there. She carries the thing around a lot. Every since we found out that she had it in her DNA, she’s sorta been obsessed with Celtic history and the fact that there’s hazel tree lore is her favorite coincidence in the world.” Simon smiled and put the clean dishes away. 

“She’s a great kid. You’re doing great with her.”

“It’s really not that hard. I just love her a lot and always try to give her what’s best for her and trust her to let me know if she doesn’t agree with what’s best for her… which isn’t often, at all. I worry that she sometimes maybe has too much emotional maturity. Like, if I shouldn’t coddle her a little more…” She bit her lip. “Like… how can you even tell when it’s what’s best?”

“She is happy and healthy. I trust that you do what’s best.” He cut his eyes at his mother and dismissed himself just as Hazel returned. They high fived each other when they crossed paths and Grace got up so that they could leave. She’d meet her parents elsewhere later. She couldn’t just stay in there with the Laurents, no matter how nice they were maybe trying to be.

.

She and Simon did well enough keeping their space through the rest of the trip. By Monday morning, when they were all back home, Grace wondered if Hazel needed a day to recover, but she was SO READY to get to school and brag to her friends about how she had been given drafts of the next two books of Esmoroth and how she wouldn’t tell them what happened and they would be SO jealous and think she’s SO cool. “They might even think that I’m lying. That’s why I have photos of me and Simon, with both of the drafts. They’re gonna be extremely, extremely envious.”

Grace laughed, “Why do you want your friends to be envious?”

“Because, that’s how you know it’s the good stuff.” Hazel still had her braids in. They probably wouldn’t last as long as that style would in Grace’s head, but Grace estimated she still had a few weeks before they would have to take them down. Also, Grace noticed that after giving Simon the leaf in her hair whenever they went to get on their planes home… She hadn’t replaced it. She put in one of her leaf clips and almost left the door without Grace! Grace caught up with her and the girl was as lively as ever. Grace didn’t have that same enthusiasm. 

The weekend was exhausting for her. Seeing her parents wore her out. Seeing them, the Laurents, and specifically Simon? She was about to sleep this entire day, until it was time to meet up with Hazel afterschool. Back in her own bed, with her own energy in her space, her own schedule and company (or lack thereof) it was great. 

.

 Simon had went live while he was working on styling his hair, to clear up all of the rumors about he and Grace rekindling their romance, which essentially boiled down to, “Grace and I are not together. We aren’t even friends again. The Monroes were nice enough to treat my family to a vacation for my birthday. I love, admire, adore, worship, would die for Grace, but I’ve done too much stuff for her to ever trust me again and I have to be okay with that, so all of you should be, too.”

Grace didn’t know until Hazel told her that Forgive Him Grace and Groveling for Grace were a thing. She watched the video and was amazed that they had taken his words and decided to do the complete opposite, because of course they did! She merely made a post, with no tags or links that said, “I hate this fandom, and I hate all of you.” Some were in the comments laughing, because they knew exactly what she was talking about. Some were asking her what fandom it was and offering words of kindness. Some were just flooding it with those stupid hashtags. 

Simon messaged her to apologize and insist that he didn’t mean for THIS to happen. She turned it into a video call, which he immediately picked up.

“Your followers have always been a very… special kind. Unreasonable. Stubborn. Obsessively defensive, even when you absolutely don’t deserve it.” He looked embarrassed. “You trained them too well. Jeesh.”

“They’re literally a little cult on the internet,” he said.

“Yup. They better not be bothering my baby.”

“No. I shut that shit down the moment I see it. I actually pinned an exile list to the top of my pages specifically for that.”

She checked and saw “For troubling Hazel Monroe, you will be exiled and your name will go upon this wall of shame.” It was followed by a list of names of people he blocked and at the bottom, “Leave her alone or you won’t be welcome here.” 

“This is kinda adorable,” she said. “I love how you are with her. It means a lot to me.”

“You mean a lot to me, so she does too,” he said. She bit her lip and blew air through her lips. He smiled. “I love that you still do that. I was counting the similarities and differences.”

“I’d love to hear what you came up with!” She said.

“Okay. Similarities: You still do that brrrr thing with your mouth when you’re thinking or uncomfortable. You still play with people’s hair as a show of affection. You playfully tugged on Hazel’s braids so many times! Your feet still bother you… though they seem to be giving you more trouble than before. You still try to play nice with people and speak sweetly… Differences: You’re more confident. Not that you were insecure before, but you used to care what people think about you and now, you just don’t. It’s really sexy.” She blushed. “You’re independent. You don’t need anybody else and you used to always want somebody around. Like, you love Hazel and keep her close, but I can tell that you also allow her freedom and don’t demand her obedience like your parents did to you. And you’re… everything. I can’t believe that I convinced myself that you were nothing. You’re everything, and I would do anything for you.” They both just stared at each other a while. 

“Well… That’s a nice thought. I’ll think of you if I need anything.”

“Or if you want anything…. Anything at all, Grace. I swear.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you soon. Get your followers together!”

“I’m on it,” he said and rested his chin on his hands. She exited the conversation and took a deep breath. She didn’t know what he meant by any of that, but she had a feeling that it would be clear soon. Simon never made a declaration that he wasn’t going to come through about. Even “new” Simon. 

Next

[forabeatofadrum]

Myosotis sylvatica (23/24)

Notes: Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me! For my birthday, I gave myself a finished chapter! (Well, actually, I finished this on the 15th, but I’m publishing it on the 16th, and who’s counting?)

We’re coming to an end, since chapter 24 is a very long epilogue. I’ll save my thank you’s for that moment, but I do want to give a shoutout to @todaydreambelieversfic‘s Author Spotlight series. Thanks guys for putting me in the spotlight this week.

AO3

--

WORRY

“I hate you!”

Santana rolls her eyes. Kurt fights the urge to do the same. By now, they’re used to Rachel’s outburst. That’s the side-effect of living with her. Although, this time, Santana gave Rachel a reasonable reason to yell.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” Rachel keeps yelling while she’s rinsing her bag.

“Oh, get over yourself!” Santana’s speech is still slurred. She’s still incredibly drunk. Some people feel better after throwing up, but Santana looks like she’s about to do it again.

Rachel keeps shouting and Santana yells back. Kurt sighs and retreats to his room. He hates his curtain-walls in times like this, but he gets ready for bed and he tries to sleep. Tomorrow, it will all be over. He knows his roommates.

Tomorrow, it will all be fine.

--

Kurt’s head is pounding. He slowly opens his eyes and he blinks at the sudden light. He’s lying on a cold floor.

There’s someone hovering over him.

--

It is August 1st 2028. A year ago, Kurt woke up on the kitchen floor and his life was changed forever.

Kurt takes the day off.

It’s morning and he sits on his bed. He’s deep in thought.

How do you handle a day like this? Do you celebrate it? Do you go out for dinner and raise a glass while yelling “A year, baby!” as if it’s a big anniversary? He doesn’t feel like celebrating it, but it is also too important to just ignore it.

Sometimes, Kurt dreams that this is all a dream. He dreams that he goes to bed to block out Rachel and Santana’s fighting and that he wakes up the day after in 2012. He wonders if those dreams are dreams or memories. After all, Kurt’s lived through August 1st 2012 . He’s lived from that day all the way through July 31st 2027, but he just can’t remember it apart from the few glimpses that sometimes show up in his daily life.

Kurt’s started writing down all his small memories, but it’s still only a few pages filled with random trivia. Most things that come back to Kurt are so minor. The big life moments are gone and maybe for good.

Doctor Park and her team are trying to dissect the pieces of the amnesia DNA, as they call it.

Life is confusing and at moments like this, Kurt wishes that his mother’s dresser were still here. They sent it back to Ohio to have it repaired and then they decided that it would be better off at Burt and Carole’s condo.

He shakes his head. No, the dresser wouldn’t do any good. Sure, the emotional support aspect of feeling his mother close helped, but as Mrs. Pillsbury put it, it can become too much.

Besides, his mother’s love will always be there. He does not necessarily need an object to symbolise it. He just knows that he is loved.

“What are you shaking your head for?”

Blaine is leaning against the doorframe. He also took the day off so that he could be with Kurt for now.

“Thinking about how my compulsive behaviour has affected my life. Just the usual stuff,” Kurt deadpans. Blaine looks a bit concerned, so Kurt rolls his eyes playfully.

“Sorry, I worry,” Blaine says, “You looked like you were deep in thought. I almost didn’t want to disturb you.”

Kurt stares at the spot where his mother’s dresser used to be. “It’s been a year.”

Blaine sits next to him and he leans his head on Kurt’s shoulder. “That is true.”

“What do you do on the one year anniversary of the day that you lost 15 years of your memories?” Kurt asks.

Blaine snorts. “Well, who knows. As far as we’re aware, you’re one of the ony people in the world who has this condition.”

Kurt nods. “Doctor Park said that if 0.0001 percent of the world’s population has the amnesia DNA, it will still be ten thousand people. Nothing compared to the full ten billion, but Blaine, ten thousand people. There might be ten thousand people like me out there and who knows how many people have been there before me.”

“The world’s population also keeps growing. Three billion more people in the past sixteen years,” Blaine says.

Kurt thinks about that. Blaine is right. There might be more people with this condition than expected. Doctor Park’s numbers are high, even with such low percentage, but that’s an estimate that’s based on other kind of unknown conditions.

“Yes, so then the amount of people with the amnesia DNA might increase as well. After all, 0.0001 percent of fifteen billion is fifteen thousand people.”

Blaine looks up. “Not that I’m not interested in anything that you have to say, but why are you talking about these big numbers?”

What if those numbers are higher, but not due to a higher number of people, but due to a higher percentage?

“You have your thinking face on,” Blaine says.

“What if I can use my fame to spread awareness?” Kurt looks back to Blaine, “Isn’t that what influencers are all about? After all, doctor Park estimated that percentage based on other conditions. What if I make people aware of this and people will step forward. One person already has.”

Blaine has a huge smile on his face and he then pulls Kurt towards him for a kiss.

“What was that for?” Kurt asks when Blaine pulls away, “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I’m just so proud of you.”

“So you think it is a good idea?”

“Fuck yeah, I think it is a great idea!” Blaine exclaims enthusiastically.

“This does mean that I finally should become active on social media?” Kurt jokes.

“It’s a wonder that you’ve barely touched it in these past twelve months. That’s unheard of in 2028!” Blaine says back, “Heck, it was probably unheard of in 2012 or 2013.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. His avoidance of social media isn’t that special. He’s still used to the 2012 social media and now, it’s become overwhelming and it is weird that people share and monetise every aspect of their lives. But he also hasn’t given it a chance, so maybe now is the time to learn. With great difficulty, he says: “Yeah, maybe Sebastian can help me out.”

Blaine raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Does that mean that Wes is the only Sebastian-hater from now on?”

Kurt laughs. “Probably. I never truly hated him. Does Wes?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Blaine deadpans.

“Hm, well, I can understand why.”

Blaine shrugs. “He’s also never fully forgiven me for forgiving Sebastian, which is valid.”

Kurt shakes his head. He might never fully understand whatever relationship Wes and Sebastian have, but Kurt might never understand a lot of things. This is a minor detail.

“Well, time for you to get us an ‘Our get along’ shirt,” Kurt says.

“You don’t have to fully depend on Sebastian. I can help out too. I’ve used my platform for advocacy before and I will continue to do so,” Blaine says. He tilts his head. “Are you serious about this?”

Kurt honestly has no idea what all of this will entail. He has no idea how to be an ‘influencer’, or whatever catchy term they will come up with in the following years. He has no idea if he’s cut out to be an advocate, but then he thinks about that one person who’s already reached out after seeing Kurt and Blaine on television, and he just feels a surge of pride and happiness.

“Yeah.”

--

Kurt and Blaine decide to go out for dinner later. It’s not really a celebration, but it’s something, and they don’t feel like cooking. Even though they aren’t doing much, the emotional side takes a toll on them and they’re not in the mood to cook.

Apart from that, they spend the day talking about what will happen now and how Kurt feels. Raising awareness will mean that Kurt has to open up in front of a huge audience: the entire internet.

Over the past year, Kurt’s learned to be more vulnerable and he’s learned to let people in. He’s matured more in these past months than in his entire life.

Which makes sense, in a way. After all, he had to do 15 years’ worth of work in one year and he’s not finished yet. No one expects him to redo 15 years of emotional growth in such a small moment and it will never be the same, but Kurt’s confident with his abilities and he feels great.

So they don’t plan on big things. They’re going to keep August 1st small and simple.

At least, that was the plan.

Kurt and Blaine are in the laundry room when the phone rings.

Jesse.

Kurt asks Lizzie to put Jesse on speakerphone.

“It’s happening!” Jesse sounds panicked. Blaine drops the laundry that he is folding and Kurt and Blaine look at each other in shock. They immediately know what Jesse’s talking about, but he still yells: “Rachel’s gone into labour!”

“It’s happening!” Kurt echoes.

Blaine nods and also says: “It’s happening!”

“It’s happening!” Jesse says again and then he hangs up to call the others. Kurt and Blaine are still looking at each other. They’re in awe. Rachel’s due date was indeed in August, but they still didn’t expect it to be so early. Her due date was later in August.

Of course, Rachel Berry steals Kurt’s thunder on Kurt’s big day.

“Well, at least we no longer have to worry about plans,” Blaine says as he rummages through the wardrobe. They’d planned the outfits for Rachel’s labour weeks in advance. They’re Kurt and Blaine, of course they’d do something like that. And Rachel practically demanded it, but they were happy to comply. The fact that Rachel wanted them to be there during the birth felt like a gift so this is the least that they could do.

They get changed and Blaine tells Mimi to hail a taxi.

“Rachel is in labour,” Kurt mutters to himself when they leave their apartment, “I cannot believe this is happening.”

“Didn’t Quinn give birth to Beth when you guys were in high school?”

“That was different! That was teen pregnancy! Typical day at McKinley!” Kurt says frantically, “This is adulthood.”

“Whatever you say, love,” Blaine sighs, “McKinley sounds like a weird place.”

“It was!” Kurt yells when he pushes on the button to get the elevator.

“Pushing the button multiple times isn’t going to make the elevator get here faster.”

“I know!” Kurt yells. Just then, the elevator doors open. Kurt ushers Blaine inside.

Blaine looks at him weirdly. “Kurt, you’re freaking out.”

“Aren’t you?” Kurt asks indignantly, “This is Rachel. She is giving birth. She’s becoming a mother.”

“I can’t wait to see your face when we get kids,” Blaine snorts before realising what he���s said, but Kurt’s too frantic over the fact that Rachel is in labour, that he doesn’t comment on it. They get into the taxi, who’s gotten there very fast, and they drive off to the hospital. They’re rich, so they give the driver a huge tip before practically running to the hospital entrance.

Roderick and Kitty are in the waiting room. They’re wearing matching bowling shirts, again. Kurt can’t comment on it, because Roderick grabs them by the arm.

“Go!” Roderick practically lunges Kurt and Blaine towards the reception, “They’re inside!”

Kurt furrows his brow. “You guys aren’t coming with us?”

Kitty snorts. “Kurt, only a limited amount of people are allowed to go in and you guys obviously have the priority here.”

Kurt doesn’t have time to dwell on that, because Blaine’s talked to the receptionist and he’s being dragged along.

“Oh thank FUCK you’re here!” Rachel yells when Kurt and Blaine enter the hospital room in scrubs. She’s sweating and midwifes are surrounding her. Jesse is standing in a corner and he looks very, very afraid.

Kurt raises an eyebrow and Jesse motions to him to come closer. “She’s becoming quite violent. She accidentally kicked a midwife in the face. Gosh, we once had to do one of those birth simulator things for a Broadway YouTube channel, so I know what it is like. I can’t blame her, but it’s best to stay out of her reach.”

Kurt did what? He tries to have the memory come back, but it doesn’t happen. When he sees Rachel in pain, he realises that it’s a good thing that he can’t remember it. Just then, Rachel almost kicks another person in the face. Kurt and Jesse exchange a horrified look.

“Jesse, not that we aren’t honoured, but why are we here? Kitty and Roderick didn’t get dibs on being the first to meet your child,” Blaine ponders. He’s also joined them in the corner, since Rachel is kicking and screaming.

Jesse looks a bit alarmed. His eyes widen and he stares at Rachel. “Well, she’s going to ask you to be the baby’s godfathers. But please, when she asks you after the birth, ask surprised! I wasn’t planning on telling you now, but I can imagine that you have questions.”

Kurt and Blaine stare at each other. They’re loss for words. Them? Godfathers?

They also look at Rachel, who sees them staring and she promptly asks: “What the fuck are you three looking at?”

The three of them quickly look away.

Blaine is still a bit loss for words, but he stammers out: “Jesse, I- we-”

“Save your thank you’s for later,” Jesse says and he winces when Rachel lets out a scream. Rachel usually makes a scene, but this time, everyone forgives her for it.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Kurt watches Rachel, one of his oldest friends, yell out in pain and agony while giving birth. She is old in Kurt’s eyes, but so is he. She’s having a freaking baby. Kurt’s long over the initial feelings of confusion and dread, since he’s gotten used to everyone being older, but now that it is actually happening, some of it comes back.

Rachel is having a baby. Rachel. A baby!

This truly is happening.

--

Barbra Finley Berry-St. James is born on Tuesday, August 1st 2028 around 7:38 PM in the hospital in New York. She’s named after two people who have died: after Rachel and Jesse’s icon Barbra Streisand, died in 2026, and after Finn Hudson, died in 2013.

They’d kept the name a secret up until this moment. Kurt sobs quietly when he hears that the baby is named after his brother. Sometimes, it still doesn’t feel real that Finn is dead. Everyone else got to grow 15, now 16, years older, except for him. He isn’t the father to Rachel’s child, like it was supposed to be in Kurt’s mind.

But Finn’s legacy lives on. Daniel “Danny” Finn Schuester-Pillsbury, Finn Chad Fabray-Puckermann and Barbra Finley Berry-St. James are examples of his legacy. All the kids of the New Directions alums will hear about him, not only the ones who are named after him.

Kurt doesn’t want to think about being a father himself yet, but once he’ll have a child of his own, he’ll teach them all about their uncle.

Rachel is lying in the hospital bed and she’s cradling her newborn child. Jesse sits next to her and he’s in tears. Kurt and Blaine have changed out of the ugly hospital scrubs so that they can show Rachel and her new baby their well-chosen outfits and they sit on the chairs next to the bed.

“Barbra! Barbra Finley,” Rachel says sweetly towards the baby. Kurt’s never seen Rachel this loving and affectionate. The look on her face is made out of pure joy, adoration and happiness. Parenthood changes people. Kurt’s already seen it up close with Brittany and Santana, and now it’s time for Rachel and Jesse.

Rachel looks at Kurt and Blaine with tears in her eyes. “Boys, the reason I asked you to be here…” She asks them to be Barbra’s godfathers and even though Kurt and Blaine already heard the news from Jesse, they accept tearfully and they’re genuinely choked up.

They’re both well-renowned actors, but there was no acting needed. The four of them cry from happiness and after a while, Kurt and Blaine decide to give them some time alone. Kitty and Roderick are still waiting in the waiting room. They have already heard the news that Barbra’s born and they’re calling other New Direction members and friends of the family to tell them the big news.

Kitty hangs up when she sees Kurt and Blaine approaching and she pulls them both in a hug. “She did it!”

“She really did,” Blaine says.

“Luckily, she approved of my outfit,” Kurt says and he leans into Kitty’s hug. What a difference a year can make. A year ago, the thought of them being friends sounded too stupid for words, but now it’s reality.

“God, she better approves ours,” Roderick says, “This is my best bowling shirt!”

“Our best bowling shirt, Rod,” Kitty says while she’s still hugging Kurt and Blaine.

“Why do you guys insist on wearing bowling shirts on special occasions?” Kurt asks indignantly, “Roderick doesn’t even wear bowling shirts full-time anymore. You guys told me that it was his high school phase.”

Kitty pulls away and she sticks up her nose as a joke. “From all people, you should be the one to recognise fashion!”

Blaine laughs. “Kurt’s a trendsetter. Kitty has showed me photos of him in 2015 and he wore clothing that’s in style now.”

“Exactly, Kurt, know your damn fashion!”

“Do you still have those photos of me?” Kurt asks Blaine.

Blaine shrugs. “I don’t know, love. Most photos were sent through apps like SnapChat, so they got deleted. Other photos also ultimately got deleted to create storage. They were just silly snapshots to us. If we’d known that you were going to lose your memories of 15 years, then we would’ve put more effort in keeping them.”

“Shameful,” Kurt thinks, but he suddenly has a clear image of a certain outfit that he’s never owned before. Or at least, he doesn’t remember him owning it. “I did rock a long brown scarf.”

Kitty’s smile falters a bit. “Yeah, you threw it away in 2020, because Elliot’s dog peed on it.”

Kurt wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Past me left an expensive scarf in a place for a dog to pee on?”

“In your defence, alcohol was involved,” Roderick says.

Kurt laughs. “Tell me the full story later. We’re now here for Rachel, who’s stolen the spotlight on my big day.”

Kitty furrows her brow and Roderick also looks confused, until Blaine tells them that it’s exactly one year since Kurt lost his memories.

Kitty’s eyes widen. “Oh my God, Kurt!”

“Are you, uh, are you guys…” Roderick looks for the right word, “Celebrating? Commemorating?”

“Well, we had dinner reservations, but then Rachel had to go into labour. Damnit, Rachel!” Blaine says. Kurt laughs.

Kurt looks over his shoulder, back to the maternity ward. “It seems fitting. I forgive Rachel for stealing my thunder, but only this time.”

“Fitting?” Kitty asks.

Kurt turns back. “Yeah.”

Blaine, Kitty and Roderick all look at Kurt with questioning looks.

Kurt sighs. “It’s not like I’ve died a year ago, but still, it is a big loss. We’ve talked about this before. You three all know how I feel about this. I may never fully make peace with the fact that this has happened, and I will always feel a bit lost, and I will always feel two ages at the same time, but I’ve established a while ago that life doesn’t end. Life, in some way, has started again. It’s not like I planned, but it is what is given to me. And Barbra being born on this day sort of feels like August 1st can be about new life, not about loss.”

The three stare at him, speechless, and Kurt starts to doubt himself. Did that sound stupid? Was that too corny? Was it wrong of him to connect these events together?

But then Kitty lets out a whistle. “Damn Anderson, you’re no longer the only poetic one in our group of friends. Man, this is like a Hallmark movie!”

Roderick gives him a pat on the back and Blaine looks at him with his classic heart eyes.

“I love you,” he says and Kurt smiles.

Kitty pretends to raise a glass. “To new life, to Rachel’s spawn, to Kurt’s many revelations! To Barbra Finley Berry-St. James!”

The others join her. “To Barbra Finley Berry-St. James!”

An older woman shushes them and Kitty yells back: “This is a maternity ward, so expect celebrations, you dumb old h-”

“Alright, Kit-Kat, alright!” Kurt quickly shuts her up.

Jesse arrives not much later, so that Kitty and Roderick can also meet the baby. Some of Jesse’s friends are also on their way, but now it’s time for the New Directions. Kitty, Roderick, Kurt and Blaine follow Jesse back to the hospital room. Kitty coos and Roderick sheds a tear when they see Rachel with the baby.

Everyone moves closer and Jesse asks one of the midwifes to take a photo of the six of them with Barbra. Kitty puts it on the New Directions First Gen group chat (Kitty’s an honorary member, and therefore, Roderick is one as well) and all their phones blow up with messages and emojis and many, many gifs of dancing cats.

And memes. Sam spams everyone with memes.

Mike replies with photos of Mei, Quinn sends a video of Lucy and Finn shouting happily when Puck tells them the news, and Brittany and Santana send a selfie of them with Isabel. The New Directions have all grown up and it finally feels right.

--

A year ago, Kurt woke up on the cold floor and his life was changed forever. He’s spent an entire year trying to get back what he’d lost, only to find out that it was impossible. He’s lost and he’s grieved and he’s accepted that it will never be the same, but he’s also grown and he’s learned a lot.

And he’s gotten Blaine.

Blaine, who loves him and adores him and who has baggage on his own, but it’s nothing that the two of them can’t deal with. Kurt’s never grown this close with someone this fast, but Blaine’s defied all the odds. They’re a team and they will continue to be.

If you’d asked Kurt a year ago “Where do you think you’ll be in one year?”, he didn’t expect the answer to be in a maternity ward, surrounded with people he didn’t expect to find here. A year ago, the thought of Rachel being a mother was too weird. He didn’t expect it. He didn’t expect Jesse to be the father to her child. He didn’t expect to be close friends with Kitty Wilde of all people. He didn’t expect to know Roderick. He didn’t expect to be in love and to be happy with a man who loves him back.

But now, he watches Kitty make stupid selfies with Barbra while Jesse and Blaine laugh and Roderick and Rachel complain, and it feels right. Kitty sends them to everyone and Mae, Wes, Sebastian and Adam all send their very excited reactions and their congratulations.

Kurt looks down to Barbra, still bundled up in a blanket in Rachel’s tight embrace and he can’t help but to feel utter joy.

“To new life, little Barbra,” he says.

[raywritesthings]

Stories to Tell: Prologue

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Quentin Lance, Oliver Queen, Thea Queen, John Diggle, Felicity Smoak, Damien Darhk, Dinah Lance, Nyssa al Ghul, Barry Allen, Cisco Ramon, Lyla Michaels, Malcolm Merlyn, Andy Diggle, Donna Smoak Pairings: Mentioned/Eventual Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: Laurel survives the stabbing, but the grave must still be filled. Black Canary and the rest of her team deal with the fallout. The Arrow writers claimed Laurel’s story had “plateaued” as a reason to kill her in “Eleven-Fifty-Nine”. This is the story they could have told. Warning: Major Character Death Notes: I want to thank everyone over on the Lauriver discord for letting me talk their ears off about this idea (special shoutout to TheWhiteWolf for agreeing to help me structure future parts) and for reading through it before I posted. Again, if anyone would like to join us over there I am leaving an invite link: https://discord.gg/VYT3ypv This story came as a way for me to kind of plot out how I would have done the grave plotline from season 4 and possibly beyond. I say possibly because, while I have plans for how season 5 would go, I don’t have any of it written yet so there’s no real telling when it’ll be posted. The challenge for me here was to rewrite the end of season four while maintaining continuity with the flash forwards, working with some of those constraints the writers made for themselves to see if I could do something I liked better. At any rate, I hope you enjoy this end-of-season redo! *Can also be read on AO3 and FFN*

She woke up. That was the easy part. Tired and sore, a little weak, but alive. She woke up.

Oliver was there just as he had been when she’d started to feel herself slip away. He had tears in his eyes.

Laurel tried to reach out a hand, but the best she could do was sort of turn her arm over palm-up. “Hey.”

He smiled, just a stretch of the lips, and he echoed her with a soft, “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Tired. I’m not out of the woods yet, I guess.”

“Well, the doctors think that we’re past the worst of it. You’re stable.”

His eyes were still sad. Something was wrong.

Laurel swallowed and tried to sit up, but couldn’t. “Ollie, what happened?”

He hesitated. She wondered if he was thinking about what she had said, what she had finally confessed about her feelings. She hadn’t meant for that to make him feel badly for her. She just didn’t want to be holding onto any more lies between them.

Oliver finally spoke. “It’s your father. He made it to the hospital when you started seizing, and he- he collapsed.”

“What?” She remained lying where she was, but it was like the floor had somehow dropped out from under her anyway.

“They say he suffered a heart attack. The stress...he’s still in surgery.”

“But he’s alive? Is he gonna make it?”

Oliver’s mouth opened, yet no sound followed.

Laurel could feel her own heart speeding up, could hear it on the monitor. “Please—”

“Is she awake? What did you tell her?” Thea hurried into the room and took her hands. “Laurel, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“What about my dad? What have they said?” The stress, rushing to the hospital, hearing she was seizing — had she caused this?

“Oliver, the nurses are going to kick us out if Laurel doesn’t calm down.” Felicity’s voice this time. She looked to Laurel, and her smile was strained. “I know this is hard.”

“Where’s the operating room?” She struggled to prop herself up on one elbow. “I have to see him!”

“No, no, Laurel, you gotta rest,” John was murmuring. He and Thea were gently guiding her back down to the pillows. “We’ll make sure you see him, but rest first.”

Laurel’s eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners. For all she had grown and trained, she was helpless to do anything but lie there.

“He’d want you to rest, Laurel. He’d want you to get better,” Oliver said. No attempt to sugarcoat or misdirect; for once, he was utterly truthful and the effect was devastating. Whatever the surgeons were attempting, it wasn’t going to work.

A nurse arrived who sent all her friends away before she added something to Laurel’s IV that put her under again. Her fear and worry drifted away for an unknowable time. She woke up.

Her father didn’t.

---

They wouldn’t let her go home at first. Some of that was for her health, but a large part — she suspected — was that they were worried about her.

Thea stayed by her side when she was wheeled into a room to see his still form lying under a sheet. He didn’t look peaceful or years younger. He just looked tired. Tired and sad and old. He was cold to the touch.

Laurel didn’t feel the tears or the shaking until Thea bent over, gently wrapping around her and whispering words of comfort into her hair.

She didn’t really process the words. She couldn’t try to.

On the way back to her room a woman came running up. “Oh, Laurel, I’m so glad you’re okay!”

It wasn’t until the woman was hugging her that Laurel registered it was Donna Smoak. Her father’s girlfriend. She felt her stomach drop again.

“I’m sorry,” she said, muffled by the woman’s coat.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have- it was my fault—”

Thea shushed her. “No, Laurel, it wasn’t. You know it wasn’t.”

Donna Smoak had leaned back and was staring at her in shock. “No, no, honey—”

“Mom!” Felicity’s heels clacked as sharply as her voice as she dragged her mother away. “Not the time. Not the time.”

Back in her room, Oliver jumped up from his spot in the visitor’s chair, tucking something small and rectangular into his pocket. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Laurel said automatically, raising a hand to hide her tears. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

But her father wasn’t. And that was the problem.

---

Everyone piled into the van when they brought her home. They didn’t have to, but Laurel didn’t have the energy to tell them to get back to their own lives.

The apartment was clean top to bottom when Thea let them all in. There were new candles in the fireplace, and plenty of food in the kitchen. Oliver went straight there to start cooking a large dinner.

“So you guys have leftovers,” he said in explanation.

Thea was prepping her room for sleep and putting the medications in the medicine cabinet.

Felicity was on the phone with Laurel’s mom, with the funeral home, with everyone. She came to stand behind the couch and touched her shoulder. “No luck reaching Sara, yet. I’m sorry.”

Something squirmed painfully in Laurel’s gut. “That’s okay. Thanks for trying.”

John sat beside her, a silent presence, and for that perhaps she was most grateful.

“Where’s Darhk?” She asked softly, not even turning her head towards her friend.

He was quiet a few moments more. “We don’t know.” And then, “Don’t know where Andy is, either. But when I find him, Laurel, I swear—”

She took his hand. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. But I’m gonna make it right. I promise you.”

She leaned her head on John’s shoulder and rested there until Oliver brought out her dinner.

“Thank you.”

He looked up and met her eyes. “You don’t have to thank me.”

Oliver stayed long after Felicity and John both excused themselves to go home. First he had to wash all the dishes. Then he had to dry them. And of course he had to put them away.

“Ollie, it’s getting late,” Thea said quietly, standing in the archway to the kitchen.

“I know. You two can go to bed.”

“We’re not going to sleep while there’s a guest in the apartment,” Laurel said, her voice sounding stronger than she felt.

Oliver sighed and came out to stand in front of the couch.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

Yes, Laurel wanted to say. Please stay this time. But she couldn’t ask of him what he couldn’t give. So she just quietly shook her head.

Oliver lingered a few moments more, touching her arm with a soft, “Goodnight”, then he let himself out the front door.

Thea got her into bed and was there to help her move about the house the next two days. The third morning, she looked over her mug and said, “Alex, uh, wanted to meet up.”

Alex. The boyfriend. Right.

Laurel nodded. “That’s good.”

“I don’t have to go,” Thea said quickly.

“No, you should. I’m okay getting around here, Thea. Really.” And she was. The scar was still fresh, but it wasn’t as sensitive as before. She could walk from room to room without feeling exhausted.

“I’ll pick up a movie or something while I’m out, okay? Some ice cream?”

Laurel nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Thea reached across the table and took her hand. “We’re gonna get you through this, okay? You know you’re stronger than this.”

“I know.” And she did. And she was mad at herself, because she knew it and yet couldn’t seem to get up from the couch or the table. Couldn’t go outside or to her job. She’d lost so much already — but he’d always been there. Through everything. And now he wasn’t.

Laurel spent the next morning alone on the couch, listlessly flipping through channels. Nothing was on.

A rap on her door had her looking up. A few moments later there came a second knock, stilted but softer. Laurel stood up.

She opened the door without checking — it wasn’t as if the person behind it could hurt her any more than she already was — and blinked. “Nyssa.”

Nyssa stepped through the door and into her front hall, her head hanging low. “I heard the news. I came to offer my condolences for your loss.”

Her shoulders slumped, the grief asserting itself once more now that her shock at seeing her friend had ended, and Laurel reached out — she didn’t care that this was never something they’d done — to hug Nyssa tightly. “Thank you.”

It took a few seconds, but she felt the woman’s arms slowly curve around the small of her back. They stayed like that for a time until Nyssa spoke. “I was unsure if you would welcome seeing me.”

Laurel pulled back, a question on her lips, but Nyssa didn’t leave her wondering.

“I destroyed the Pit. Without it, your father—”

“I understand why you destroyed it,” Laurel said. “And there was no way any of us could have known this would happen.”

Nyssa had been acting out of loyalty to Sara when she had done it; none of them had known if her sister could have been restored to herself. And there was no guarantee Constantine could have helped them out this time, either.

“I have to accept that he’s gone.”

“He was a...complicated man. Fathers tend to be, in my experience,” Nyssa said. “But you and Sara both cared for him greatly, and I believe he did for you as well, as best he could.”

Laurel nodded, her lip trembling. Her father hadn’t been perfect — she had the emotional baggage to prove it — but he’d been hers. The only family she’d had to rely on, oftentimes. Nyssa perhaps understood that better than anyone.

“Thank you,” she said again. Nyssa hovered there, unsure. “Did you, um…”

“What is it?”

“Thea and I are having a movie night. Ice cream. You could join us.”

“I’m not sure what ice cream has to do with movies.”

A shaky laugh left her, the first since she’d woken to the horrible news.

“It has everything to do with them. Come on, you can help me choose the movie.”

Laurel dragged Nyssa over to sit on the couch with her, and it helped to lose herself in plot summaries and red box for a while.

---

It was a cloudy day when they gathered at the grave. No rain, but no sunshine. It fit.

Sara wasn’t here. Laurel didn’t know if that was better or worse. It wasn’t fair that Sara wasn’t here to lay their father to rest — but Laurel didn’t think she could face her sister yet and tell her that this was all her fault. If she’d just been better, stronger, quicker than Darhk, their dad would still be here.

It was a plain casket that was lowered into the ground and covered with fresh dirt.

“He should have been decorated.” All those years on the force, and it was a plain casket he was lying in. And for a testimony that hadn’t done any good in the end. Laurel had stripped him of his final honors, too.

Her mother took her hand. “I know, honey.”

The officiant spoke a few words, platitudes Laurel had heard at too many funerals.

“Now, I welcome any family or friends to step forward and say a few words about Quentin.”

All at once, there were eyes on her. More than there had been, anyway.

Laurel took a couple steps forward after a slight nudge from her mother. “Um, thank you all for coming. This is...this kind of thing has never been easy for me. And I hoped I wouldn’t have to do something like this again for a long, long time.”

She took a breath and said, “My father was a good man, more in that he tried to be than that he naturally was. Um, that doesn’t sound right, but what I mean is he always tried to do the right thing. He had beliefs, principles, and even though those things faced a lot of challenges over the years, at the heart of it he always wanted to do what was best for this city.”

Laurel turned back to look at the grave and its name, the fresh dirt there and the flowers she and her mother had laid down. “He was a hero.” Her throat started to close up, but she forced the words out. “He was my hero.”

There was a shoulder there for her when she turned back to face the crowd with tears staining her cheeks. She knew it was Oliver’s without looking up at him, and she let him lead her back to her mother.

Everything else was a blur. The two of them got into a car together, and other people were leaving. Soon enough she was back at the apartment where she sat on the couch watching her mother dry her eyes where she thought she couldn’t see. There was a knock on the door.

“That wouldn’t be Thea, would it?” Her mother asked with a frown.

“She has a key,” Laurel said, but her mother was already answering the door.

“Hello?”

“Hi, my name’s Barry Allen. I was told this is Laurel’s home? I’m sort of a friend.”

Laurel got up before her mother had quite stammered through a reply. “Barry, hi.”

He was wearing a black suit, and his eyes were sad. “I didn’t make it to the burial before you left. I’m really sorry.”

She shook her head. “That’s okay.”

“I know I only met him a couple times, but I’m sorry you lost him so suddenly. And I know what it’s like to lose a parent, so,” he shrugged. “I just want you to know that me and the others are here for you.”

Laurel managed something like a smile. “Thank you, Barry. That means a lot.” She stepped forward and hugged him, which he seemed surprised by, but he was the one who showed up for her dad’s funeral.

“How’s Ollie?” She asked in his ear. Laurel was certain he would have sought Oliver out before doing anything else.

“Not...great. I think he blames himself.”

Laurel sighed. “He always does.” They were alike that way.

She withdrew and looked back to check with her mother. “Would you like to stay for a bit?”

“That’s okay, I didn’t want to intrude. Just, you know, here to support. I’m very sorry to both of you for your loss.” Barry backed away and turned around for the elevator. Laurel shut the door.

“Who was that, exactly?” Her mother asked.

“Um, just a friend from Central.”

“Well, he must be a good friend to come all the way out here.”

Laurel smiled, a private one. “Yeah, he is.”

“Laurel, about Central…” her mother began. “I was wondering, since you have the time off — it might be good for you to get away from all this.”

She didn’t have time off, really. She was just stuck in the transition between jobs, not quite the ADA and not quite the DA. She wasn’t sure she could ever be that, not under Ruve Darhk at any rate. Not now.

“I’m worried about you,” her mother said, and something in Laurel stilled.

She’d waited so long to hear something like that from her mother. Something that spoke of a bond between them, a deep care. And it was only to be now that she’d lost that with her father. She could almost feel her mouth twist into the bitter snarl he used to get some nights, when the drinks were flowing.

Laurel pushed it down. She didn’t want to remember him that way right now. She thought of him softer, instead, wide-eyed and hopeful that there was still some way their family could rebuild what had been broken.

“I’ll think about it, mom.”

---

She went to visit Oliver down in the bunker he was still living out of. A part of her felt she should do something about that. Another part said that she could barely do anything for herself right now.

“Mom’s asked me to come back to Central with her, for a little bit.”

He didn’t look surprised. “Do you want to go?”

Laurel shrugged. “I can’t do anything here since nobody’s letting me go out in the field.”

“Laurel, you’re still healing. None of us could stand the idea of losing you out there.”

She could point out all the times he had suited up when it wasn’t exactly healthy, but Laurel didn’t want a fight. What energy she did have for one was being saved exclusively for Damien Darhk.

“I don’t know if I can leave while he’s still out there, but I hate just sitting here.”

Oliver didn’t need her to specify who she meant. “I know.”

“I just need some time.”

He reached for her arm. “That’s okay.”

She looked up into his eyes, and they both stood, frozen there in that moment. There was so much they had said and so much they hadn’t.

Eventually, Laurel looked down. She took her arm back.

“Okay then. Call me if you need me. Or if the others do.”

“I will. And you can call us.”

Part of her was ashamed. Oliver had already lost both of his parents, yet he continued on. Did he think she was being weak again? That she couldn’t cut it out there in the field?

“I’m going to get better,” she said, more for herself than anything.

He nodded. “I know you will. You always do.” Oliver took a step closer, leaning forward slightly, then away. “I’m sorry...that you’ve needed to.”

Her lips pressed tight in what she hoped was a smile. “That’s just life.”

Then she turned and left the base before she said or did anything else she might regret later.

Laurel packed that night and, though she turned her room over and inside out, she couldn’t find the old photo. She didn’t remember what had happened to it after the hospital.

---

The next time Laurel saw Barry, he had lost his speed. She hadn’t even known that was a possibility.

Apparently Zoom, the evil speedster from another earth, had had something to do with it. But Team Flash had a plan to get it back, which they were preparing to enact on the day Laurel showed up to visit.

She’d just wanted to get out of the house for a little, not get in the way of her friends. “Should I come back a different day?”

“No, no,” Caitlin assured her, hands flitting all around her like she thought Laurel might still be too delicate to touch. “We’re happy to have you. You just might want to wait in the cortex when we run the experiment. I’d bring you to the Time Vault to wait with Wally and Jessie, but I really don’t want to argue with Wally about him being in there again,” Caitlin said. She hurried away to run some last minute checks.

Cisco stopped by on his way down with a new prototype of her device. “I started working on it after we heard the news,” he said. “I wasn’t really sure what else to do.”

“Thank you.” She fastened it around her neck, if only to see him smile.

Laurel was left alone, and she sat waiting and watching the various surveillance screens. There was a sudden charge to the air and a blue streak of lightning traveling from room to room. Laurel stood up.

At the same time, a door appeared in a wall on one of the screens, and two young people emerged. Wally and Jessie. Something was about to go wrong, Laurel could feel it in her bones.

She hurried out into the corridors, nearly falling when a tremor started shaking the building. Then another.

She rounded a corner and came upon the two of them. “Hey! Get back inside!”

Just as the yell left her, a wave of some kind of energy rushed over them, knocking them all to the ground and Laurel out cold.

She woke up to yelling and footsteps running up and down the hall.

“Her heart’s beating but she’s unresponsive.”

“What happened to Barry?”

“Iris, Iris, it’s gonna be okay.”

“Laurel?”

She sat up, pushing her hair back from her face and coughing when she drew in air. There was some kind of blockage in her throat, it felt like.

“You okay?” Cisco reaches a hand out to help steady her.

Laurel pressed a hand to her abdomen, felt nothing wrong, and nodded. “What—” she had to stop and clear her throat, and it still didn’t sound quite right. “What happened?”

Cisco’s expression fell. “It- the explosion didn’t work. Barry, he- he’s gone.”

Her stomach threatened to roll over. Gone. Someone else was gone. Again.

“Jessie’s heart stopped. Her dad got it restarted with compressions, but Caitlin...she doesn’t think it’s good.” He started forward, his eyes widening. “Oh, here.”

She tried not to flinch when his hands went to her neck, unfastening the device she’d been wearing. The light on the front was cracked and sputtering.

“Oh, Cisco, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay. This- I can fix this.” There was so much that had just happened here that couldn’t be fixed, and they both knew it. She took his hand and they both stood up, leaving the hallway.

There was a woman she’d never met sobbing in the cortex, a man who looked like her father holding her up in his arms. Laurel’s heart twisted painfully.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

The woman looked up, her lips feebly twitching. “Thank you.”

She went back to her mother’s to get out of the way. She was so useless. Laurel tried Oliver’s phone, feeling she could at least deliver the news, but she couldn’t reach him. Thea was the same. Felicity was as well, which was the most surprising of all. What could be happening that no one was answering their phones?

John picked up on the third ring. “Laurel, everything okay?”

“I’m fine, but where is everyone?”

“Oliver got referred to some magic lady in Hub City by Constantine, so he and Felicity went to check it out. Thea’s on a trip with her boyfriend.”

“And you’re watching the city alone?”

“I can handle it, Laurel. Don’t worry about me.”

But she did. And she couldn’t shake the idea that something could now go horribly wrong with her home and her team, the same way it had here in Central.

She packed her bags and left that day.

---

The high-speed train brought her to Star that night amidst crisis. Darhk and his followers were in pursuit of an ARGUS transport with the whole Diggle family inside. Oliver and Felicity were still an hour out and no one could raise Thea.

“Lyla says the transport is well-guarded, Laurel,” Oliver had commandeered Felicity’s phone to say. “Please wait for backup.”

“John, Lyla and Sara are sitting ducks in that truck, Ollie. And I’m not letting Darhk get away with anything else.”

She didn’t spare time to get into the suit; it hardly mattered when she and Darhk could already see each other plainly. Laurel grabbed the keys for her bike and went roaring down the street towards John’s flashing GPS point.

The transport was already surrounded by HIVE, and she had to duck and weave as a few of the pursuers began firing on her approach. Her heart was pounding in her ears but Laurel felt nothing but calm. He was in her sights, and she would get him.

She saw John escape out the back of the truck with baby Sara, and she nearly veered off to help guard the two of them. But Darhk was staying on course. That was where she needed to be.

Laurel pressed herself almost flat over the controls as she pushed the bike to its limits. Darhk was climbing in the open back doors, and she saw the struggle between him and Lyla, saw him grab the ARGUS director’s arm. His hand was raised for some kind of magic, and Lyla was frozen, her face a mask of outrage and fear.

Those same emotions rose to a crescendo within Laurel. She was two car lengths behind; she would never make it; he was going to get away with it all again.

Her ragged breaths gave way to a scream, her eyes squeezed shut—

“SCREEEEEEE!”

The motorcycle shuddered as sound rolled forward and smashed into the back of the truck. It rocked, the wheels on one side skidding. There was a pop as the back one blew. The whole thing teetered terribly before tipping onto its right. The screech of metal as it continued to scrape across the road drowned out the noise coming from her, and Laurel drew in a sharp breath, the waves of sound cutting off.

In the ensuing silence, she didn’t realize she’d stopped her own bike until the roar of a second one filled her ears. Oliver pulled up alongside her in full Green Arrow gear.

“What happened?”

“I…”

“Where’s Darhk? Laurel?” He reached across to her arm, and she jolted back to herself.

“Lyla.”

“What?”

Laurel threw the kickstand on and rushed forward on foot. “Lyla!”

One of the metal doors lay on the ground while the other hung shut. Heart in her throat, she climbed in, doing her best to avoid the furniture and items strewn about the cramped space.

“Lyla!”

A groan at the far end drew her closer, and to her relief Lyla raised her head. There was a cut oozing blood down the side of her face, and she held her arm at a funny angle. Laurel reached for her good arm and helped her shakily to stand.

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know. Lyla, I’m so sorry—”

“Never mind me. Did we get him?”

Laurel froze. In all the chaos she hadn’t seen or heard. Had he somehow, impossibly, managed to escape?

Footsteps announced Oliver’s arrival. “The driver’s alright. Mostly bruises and a possible concussion. John’s on his way back with Sara. Where’s Lyla?”

“Here,” Lyla said. Laurel helped her limp to the opening where she could wait as the wail of an ambulance grew closer.

“Ollie, we haven’t found Darhk,” Laurel muttered.

He frowned. “His men took off. It’s possible…”

They both turned and each took one side of the truck as they worked their way forward. She took out her phone to use as a flashlight in the darkened space. There was a table propped on its side she would have to get around.

And that was when she saw what the table was propped on. Or rather, who.

“He’s here!”

Darhk was either unconscious or feigning sleep, but when Laurel checked the pulse at his neck it was beating. His body was being crushed under the weight of the steel table, however, and she felt twin thrills of horror and vindictive pleasure.

“Ollie, help me.”

Together, they were able to lift the table up and off of the man, who made no move to rise. It really wasn’t an act.

“Does he have Rubicon?” Lyla called into the truck.

“What?”

“There was a code laid under the skin of my arm. He took it out. Does he still have it?”

Laurel and Oliver exchanged mildly disgusted looks at the imagery Lyla was painting for them, but that was ARGUS. They looked in both of Darhk’s hands.

“No,” Oliver answered. “But he needs medical care.” He turned to Laurel. “And you can’t be here.”

She bristled. “Ollie—”

“You’re in civilian clothes, Laurel. No one can see you were here, or they might think that whatever happened, it was premeditated.”

He was right. She drew in a breath and looked down at Darhk. He was small and broken at her feet, no longer the threat that has loomed over her family the last several months, the threat that had consumed her father. She took a step back, then turned and ran to her bike.

She didn’t stop driving until she could no longer hear the sirens of emergency vehicles, then kept on driving. She didn’t stop until she reached the black fences surrounding the cemetery. Laurel went in on foot, her feet taking the familiar path to the family plot. She bypassed Sara’s empty grave and stopped before the newer headstone.

“Dad, I- I don’t know what happened — or how — but I did something. And it- it probably wasn’t good. But it’s over now. I hope...where you are, you can stop worrying about me now. And that you’re happy.” She crossed her arms over her chest, an attempt to hold it all in. “I miss you so much, Daddy.”

---

Damien Darhk had been paralyzed from the neck down, the news said later.

Ruve stepped down the next day, citing personal obligations. Then she and Damien and their young daughter quietly disappeared in a medivac helicopter, according to the flight manifests Felicity had managed to pull. The city was in total uproar. No one seemed to know what to think.

“So you- you just screamed at it and the truck fell over?” John said not for the first time. He stood with his arms crossed as Felicity typed away at something or other on her computers. Oliver was pacing around somewhere behind Laurel, and she could feel the weight of his gaze each time he looked her way.

“Basically.”

“But that shouldn’t happen. I mean how does that happen?”

“Maybe it wasn’t Laurel. Maybe she only thought she saw sound waves coming out of her mouth and the truck just hit something on the road that popped the tire.”

“Why would she have thought she saw sound waves though?” John asked.

Felicity shrugged. “Stress?”

“We’re lucky there’s no recoverable surveillance because of the identity issue, but it makes learning the truth more difficult,” Oliver said. “Until we know for certain what happened, I’m worried about the team and how we operate in the field.”

At least he wasn’t verbally singling her out, even if they all knew she was the issue. Laurel was too tired to have it out with him if he had gotten too antagonistic at the moment, and it felt like the early days where there was no one in her corner.

“Where’s Thea?”

There was a pause and then a shuffle as he stopped mid-pace before continuing. “What do you mean?”

“I mean she hasn’t answered her calls for days, Oliver. There’s no updates on her social media.” Laurel turned to look at him. “If she were really on vacation, she’d have her phone.”

His brow furrowed. “But...she is on vacation.”

“Alex did switch over to Ruve’s campaign, Oliver,” John pointed out. “Maybe he wasn’t as good a guy as he seemed when you hired him.”

She caught sight of the tremble in his fingers and the minute shake of his head. Laurel stood, grasping both of his hands.

“It might be nothing, but I don’t think we can afford to wait for Thea to get back in touch with us.” It wasn’t a risk she wanted to take, not with one of the few people left who were so dear to her.

They went to the home Darhk had been living out of, finding it had been packed up in a hurry. There were papers scattered about a desk that would no doubt need to be looked over, blueprints of what looked like a giant biodome.

Most importantly, there was the secret entrance into the tunnels. She, Oliver and John descended, the reception on their comms crackling before dying out completely.

“Keep going?” John asked.

“Whatever this is, Darhk wanted it,” Oliver determined. “We have to see this through.”

They kept walking, and judging by the direction and the downward slope of the tunnel, they were headed beneath the bay.

“At least this explains why he attacked the cleanup event,” Laurel muttered, the sound amplified in the cavernous space. “He must not have wanted anyone discovering his project.”

The project, it turned out, was in fact a large dome, and when Oliver finished picking the lock on the side-door Darhk had built himself, they found something purely bizarre.

“It’s a neighborhood,” John breathed. “A neighborhood in a fishbowl.”

Rows of houses with green lawns and perfectly trimmed hedges lined freshly paved streets. It was a perfect recreation of suburbia, minus the artificial sky.

“How do they get air down here?” She had to wonder.

“There’s got to be a ventilation system. Something with hydraulics since it’s under the water,” Oliver said. “Back behind here.”

There were people walking down the street in their direction, all dressed in the same uniform to produce an eerie effect of bland sameness. Laurel found herself thinking of dystopian novels from English lit; she’d read them all aloud in the hopes of helping Oliver pass while he’d spent the afternoons curled up on her bed like a lazy cat. That felt like eons ago now.

They were all gathering at the end of a cul de sac, where someone or something stood. She couldn’t quite see over the heads of the growing crowd, but she could hear Oliver’s growled, “Malcolm,” and her own lip curled in disgust.

“Oliver, is that Thea behind him?” John asked. Laurel really wished she could see.

“Has to be. She’s just...standing there.” Oliver’s frown clearly broadcast his confusion over his sister’s actions. Laurel reached back for his hand.

“Come on. If we sneak around the side, we’ll be able to hear better.”

They crept along hedges and down narrow alleys between houses, Malcolm’s smugly assured voice growing louder with each step.

“...saddened as all of you that Damien can no longer join us. But I know he would want our mission to continue. In fact, he entrusted that task to me. It has long been my own dream to build a new Star City.”

Laurel tried not to roll her eyes as she peered around a newly planted evergreen, zeroing in on Thea who was standing just where John had said, passively listening. In fact, there was something almost glassy to her gaze.

“He’s drugged her.” She looked back at Oliver. “Again.”

His mouth screwed up into a frown as he tried to come up with some response, but Laurel’s eyes widened as she caught movement just behind them. She pushed Oliver aside as a gun was leveled at both her and John.

“Thought you all might pay a visit.”

John turned slowly, his hands raised up. “Andy…”

John’s brother smirked. “John. Nice of you to make things easier for me. Once you’re dead, that wife and baby of yours will be easy pickings.”

Her friend moved so fast Laurel thought Barry would’ve been proud if he were still here. The gun clattered to the ground as Andy was shoved up against the siding of one of the cookie cutter houses.

“You don’t get to talk about them. You don’t get that right anymore, Andy. Not after what you did!”

Andy shoved back and the two brothers were locked in a brawl, one which Laurel could not see how to intercede in.

Oliver had his bow raised, clearly preparing to fire once he had a clear shot of Andy. His eyes flicked back towards the meeting Malcolm was still running. “We’re going to give away our position.”

“So get Malcolm first, got it.”

“Laurel—”

But she’d taken off around the back of the house, running straight for the podium. Her heart was pounding in her ears the closer she got. This was the man, even more so than Darhk, who had endeavored and continued to endeavor to take everything she cared about away for his own selfish goals. She was done holding back against him.

Malcolm turned before she was five feet away, ready to block her fist with his hand. They traded a number of blows, Laurel’s anger rising up, up and up within her.

He sighed. “Haven’t we been over this enough times by now? You can’t hope to win against me.”

“You’ve been beaten before, you can be beaten again. How’s your hand?”

He scowled, but Laurel was more concerned with the arrow that sailed past her head.

“Thea!”

Her friend was already nocking a second one as the crowd of Darhk’s followers screamed and scattered for the exits. Thea’s eyes and face were devoid of any warmth. “Stand down.”

“Thea, he’s using you! Just like before, you have to fight it!” She couldn’t blame her for listening to the drugs, but she knew how strong Thea was. If anyone could break through it, she could.

And there was a flicker of hesitation in her friend’s eyes.

“Thea?” It was Oliver who asked as he’d apparently chosen to follow her. His arrival caused Thea to tense up and release the second arrow in his direction. Then a second set of siblings were fighting in this underground base.

“I would have stopped him,” said Malcolm.

Laurel’s head whipped back around towards him. “Excuse me?”

“Damien. I would have stopped him at the prison if I’d been closer. I didn’t realize what he was planning to do until it was too late.”

Her first instinct was to call him a liar. But she remembered how tense he’d been, how he’d kept suggesting to Darhk that they leave immediately. A part of her wanted to demand why.

But she shook her head. “It was too late. And it is too late for you, Malcolm. No more playing both sides to your advantage. No more waiting to see how you can come out the winner. This is going to end here one way or the other.”

“If it has to be that way,” he replied with something like regret. Laurel scowled and shook it off. Whatever weird complex he was working through wasn’t her problem. She just wanted to see him ended.

Laurel charged and he dodged before engaging. As good as she’d continued to get since their last fight, Malcolm still had considerable skill. But she was gratified to see the gap was definitely shrinking. It could make all the difference.

She hadn’t killed Darhk, was still even uncomfortable thinking about her role in his current state of health. But Malcolm? She thought she really could.

For her father. For Sara. For Thea. For Tommy and Moira Queen, innocent William Clayton. The unnamed and forgotten crew members of the Queen’s Gambit and Robert along with them. For every last person who had lost their lives that terrible night in the Glades.

She would do it for Oliver, too, so he wouldn’t have to compromise the morals he worked so hard to maintain. So he could keep trying to find that light within himself.

Malcolm was getting frustrated, and Laurel’s teeth bared in a strange sort of satisfaction. She wanted him forced out of that smug calm he always projected. She wanted him fighting back like he meant it. Which he did.

She had little thought for anything else other than staying on top of the next attack, using everything she had. He got in a hit to her gut that caused her to stagger back, her legs caught up in a bush. Laurel couldn’t keep her balance and fell hard onto her back, stunned.

“Malcolm, stop!” Oliver’s voice somewhere nearby. Two arrows, red and green, sailed above her, but didn’t stop the knife that was hurtling towards her.

Laurel’s mouth opened, her breath coming in a sharp gasp and, like instinct—

“SCREEEEEEEE!”

The scream left her in one concussive blast, knocking the knife high into the air until it was so small she couldn’t make out where it had gone. The very walls of the artificial suburb trembled before a loud crack rent the air.

Everything went black and shrieks of panic filled the space, some closer than others. A rumbling noise had started up, and she sat up just in time as something heavy crashed down near where she was laying.

“What just happened? What’s going on?” Thea cried out.

“The structure was damaged. This whole thing’s coming down. Laurel!”

She staggered to her feet, reaching blindly for Oliver. Hands caught hers, but she couldn’t tell if it was him or Malcolm.

“We have to get John! The people! How- how are we—”

In the dark, there was suddenly a streak of yellow, bright and crackling like electricity. Laurel was caught up in a blur of motion before her feet slammed back into the ground above ground. She looked around and saw Oliver, Thea and countless people in the strange outfits they’d been wearing in Darhk’s neighborhood, all of them just as confused as she was. John appeared moments later, gun in his hands and tense.

“What the hell just—”

“Oh my God!” Thea gasped, pointing. They all turned to look and watch as the ground far ahead of them caved in, the pavement cracking and buckling. Buildings twisted and fell in on themselves. It was exactly like out of her memories, and Laurel’s hands went to grasp the sides of her face.

“Oh God.”

The yellow streak passed up and down the crumbling structures, people appearing in their group with no warning each time it raced by. It took Laurel’s brain several seconds to catch up and realize who that streak was.

Barry skidded to a stop in front of them in full Flash gear, amazingly, impossibly alive. “Is everyone alright?”

There were murmurs of assent, some less enthusiastic than others. Most of Darhk’s willing followers looked dismayed to return to the surface, while others who had been pulled from the falling buildings seemed the most confused of all.

“What happened to all our stuff?”

“—another earthquake?”

“That guy from Central City, the fast one—”

“How did you know to be here?” Oliver asked Barry.

“Your, uh, teammate called when she couldn’t reach you guys. I’ve been searching the whole city, but it wasn’t until I saw that sinkhole opening up that I knew where you were. How exactly did that happen?”

The others looked at each other, either unsure or unwilling to say. But as Laurel stared at the devastation done to the part of the Glades that reached out to the bay — so similar to all those years ago — she couldn’t leave it unsaid.

“It was me.”

---

There were no casualties, thanks to the Flash. His powers, newly returned as they were, were truly a gift. Not like hers seemed to be.

“It must have been the second explosion,” Barry said quietly in the bunker later that night. “The particles must have pervaded the lab, and Laurel’s probably pre-disposes towards the meta gene. We just met her Earth-2 doppelganger.”

Barry told them all about Black Siren, her mocking voice and the destruction that came in her wake. 600 miles away, a woman sat in a cell wearing her face.

“Is she being sent back?” Laurel asked.

“We’re going to work on that once we know for certain we can defeat Zoom. We only just turned back his army. Actually, the others are waiting for me to have a sort of victory dinner. Is it okay…?”

“Yeah, Barry,” Oliver said. “We’ve taken enough of your time.”

“Okay. I promise we’ll talk more about the meta thing,” the speedster said to her. “It’s gonna be fine.” Then in a blink, he was gone.

“It really wasn’t your fault, Laurel,” Thea said in the ensuing silence.

“Tell that to the families that lost their homes.”

“Look, as terrible as it is, that whole setup Darhk has couldn’t stay down there,” John added. “Even if we’d cleared it out, there would’ve been danger of it collapsing on its own if something in the engine room failed. Darhk built it too close to the surface.”

“Probably so that it would rise from the ashes after he launched his nuclear armada,” Felicity added. “I know this is tough, but you never meant to do anything like that. It was an accident.”

She stood, half-turned from them all with her arms folded over her chest. “That’s the problem. These powers, I can’t control them. And as long as I can’t, stuff like this is going to keep happening.” She drew in a breath, preparing herself to say it for the second time in as many months. “I have to leave the team.”

A look of absolute panic flashed across Oliver’s face. “Laurel—”

“And not to be a DA. I can’t trust myself to be around people or- or civilization with this,” she continued, waving a hand at her neck. “Not until I’m the one in control.”

“But where will you go?” Thea asked, and her lips trembled.

“I don’t know.”

“Laurel, please, Barry and his team can help you.”

“My doppleganger already took down plenty of their buildings, Oliver. They can’t really afford to lose more.” She turned fully towards him. “Please, don’t make this harder for me. I’ve never — just let me go.”

He fell silent, gaze lowered to the ground.

“This is hard for all of us, Laurel,” said Felicity. “I mean, we just lost your father and now — sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

“No. It’s fine.” Laurel did her best to hold back the sting of new tears. God, what she wouldn’t give to have her father here now. What would he do, what advice would he give her?

“Before he...died, dad told me he was proud of what I was doing for the city. To him, Star was more than home. It was family itself.” She looked at her suit on its mannequin. “To honor his memory, I have to protect this city from any danger. Including me.”

“You’re not the only one who needs to take some time off.” It was John who spoke, and she looked back over her shoulder just as the others stared at him. “Andy got away in all the confusion. I have to track him down before he can come back and hurt Lyla or Sara. Won’t be able to rest easy until I do.”

Laurel nodded and ignored a second stab of guilt. If she hadn’t reacted with her powers down there, Andy wouldn’t have gotten away. Neither would Malcolm. She’d ruined so much.

“If there’s anything we can do,” Oliver began.

“You have enough to take care of here,” said Laurel. John agreed with a nod.

“Well, so much for celebrating Thea being rescued,” Felicity muttered glumly.

Laurel looked down. Glad as she was that her friend was safe, she wasn’t really good for celebrations right now.

“I think the best way to celebrate is if we all take the night off,” Oliver decided, and she was so grateful to him in that moment for letting her get out of that room. The longer she stayed, the more she felt an awkward outsider, scared to raise her voice above a quiet murmur.

Laurel could feel his eyes on her and thought he might know it, too.

---

She packed everything she would need in a large backpack normally used by those traveling across Europe. Maybe she would end up there, maybe she wouldn’t.

It hadn’t been hard to resign from the DA’s office. She’d technically been on medical leave and then bereavement leave after that anyway before she needed to decide if she was taking the DA job, so it was just a matter of telling them she would not be back. Not for a long time, if ever.

Thea helped her check she had everything one last time. “You’re sure?” Her friend asked not for the first time.

“I am. I’m sorry,” Laurel added. “I wouldn’t leave you behind if I didn’t have to, but I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt, Speedy.”

Thea nodded. “I know, I just — I wish everyone didn’t have to go.”

“It’s just me and John.”

“Yeah, but.” Thea paused and let out a shaky breath. “I think I’m gonna take some time off the team, too.”

Laurel’s mouth fell open.

“You feel like you’re a liability because of your powers. I’m a liability because of my dad. He got away, just like Andy. He got away with drugging me again.”

She reached for her friend’s shoulders. “Thea, that wasn’t—”

“My fault? I know. But I have to figure out if this is something I’m okay with happening over and over before I put that mask back on. Besides.” Thea shrugged. “It’s not gonna be the same without my teammates.”

Laurel felt herself smile. “I guess it won’t be.”

“I’ll still be here. Keeping the apartment warm, backup if Ollie gets in over his head, you know,” Thea continued in a valiant effort to maintain a casual air.

“Good. You two look out for each other while I’m gone.”

Thea’s smile crumpled a little. “We’re gonna miss you so much.”

Laurel pulled her into a hug. “I know. So am I.”

Thea pulled back and wiped at her eyes. “One more thing.” She went into her room and came back with Laurel’s suit in her hands. “You never know, wherever you end up they might need the Black Canary.”

Laurel took hold of the jacket, her eyes closing. “Thank you, Thea.”

She got a rideshare to the cemetery to visit with her father. It would be the last time in a while, so she laid a fresh batch of flowers down in front of the headstone.

“I wish none of this had happened. If I’d done something differently or not been at that prison, maybe things would be better for everyone. Maybe you’d still be here.” She brushed her fingers over his name, letting the silence speak for itself for a time.

“I still haven’t heard from Sara. I’m not sure how it works, with her not being in this time. Maybe the message got lost or she...she doesn’t want to see me. Maybe she doesn’t want to believe you’re gone.” It was a tempting idea, one that she would find hard to resist if she were in that position. Or maybe that was the guilt talking. “I’m sure she’ll come here someday. She’d want to come see you.”

Laurel rose to her feet.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but you’ll always be with me, Daddy. I love you so much. I’ll keep trying to make you proud.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Laurel turned and left the cemetery. She called a second rideshare, this time for the airport. It dropped her off at the queue for departing flights, and Laurel walked down the line to find her airline.

“Hey!”

Laurel turned at the sound of the familiar voice. She should’ve realized. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

Oliver jogged up to her. “I just, um, wanted to see you off.”

Laurel nodded. “Well, I guess you have.”

He looked down. “Yeah.”

She took in his appearance then, his nice slacks and a tie. He hadn’t worn anything like it since he’d withdrawn his candidacy. “You heading to an interview after this?”

He huffed a laugh. “Kind of. Uh, since Ruve sort of left out of nowhere, the city’s asked if I can step in. For the interim, anyway.”

A real smile for her was rare of late, but one rose on her face now. “Congratulations. It should’ve been yours from the start.”

“Thank you. First order of business will be picking a DA,” he told her. “It’ll be a tough spot to fill considering my first choice is leaving the country.”

Laurel shook her head. “You’ll be fine without me, Ollie.”

“I’m not sure I will be,” he admitted in a moment of vulnerability. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying — you were right, you’ve never tried to stop me. I know you need this.”

She licked her bottom lip. “I think we both do.”

It was still hanging in the air between them, what she’d said in the hospital. Laurel didn’t know if either of them would ever truly address it again, if they could even survive it if they did.

“Actually,” said Oliver. He fished around for something in a pocket. Laurel’s heart skipped a beat as she saw the back of a photo.

“Ollie—”

“I thought you might want something to hang onto, to remember the family you’ve got waiting back home.” He held it out to her.

It had been taken by Alex at a campaign event, Laurel remembered. One of the last ones, because Felicity was in her wheelchair. John has his hands resting on the handlebars, the easy trust and comfort between the two friends obvious.

She remembered, too, how Alex had been trying to rearrange the lineup, his face scrunching up each time he’d looked at her.

“Laurel, if you could go on Thea’s other side, that way we get Oliver in the center—”

Oliver had wound an arm over her shoulders, his other arm around Thea’s waist, the same way they were in the photo. “It’s a photo, Alex, not a production. Just take it.”

“Fine, you’re the boss.”

He was dead now, Laurel dimly recalled. Thea had told her the night they’d returned to the apartment. Machin had snuck into Darhk’s secret neighborhood and killed the campaign aide in his obsession with Thea. He was the only one they’d managed to recapture and put behind bars, a poor consolation for the loss of her friend’s boyfriend.

But the team in the photo didn’t know that. They smiled, happy and oblivious to everything that was to come. The elbow of her father’s suit jacket was jutting into the frame on the right, just out of shot with Donna. How much simpler things looked in hindsight.

She looked back up. “I’ll keep it with me.” She tucked it into the pocket of her jacket. “Good luck with the mayorship. You’ll do a great job.”

“Thanks. Good luck to you, too. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” He hesitated then stepped towards her, leaning towards her side, and she felt his lips on her cheek. Laurel sucked in a breath and ducked her head as he pulled back just a few centimeters.

“Be safe out there.”

“I will. Goodbye, Ollie.”

There was something so pained in his gaze, and for a moment she thought he might speak. But he stepped back instead, forcing a tight smile.

She returned it before heading through the automatic doors of the airport. Laurel raised a hand to her cheek, then wiped at the corners of her eyes. She’d only cause a stir at the security check in if she turned up looking like a mess. Everything was always a mess when it came to her and Ollie.

The tightness in her chest lessened once she arrived at her gate, and she was breathing easier by the time they were seated on the plane. Laurel lifted the window shade in order to get her last glimpse of Star before takeoff. Her last glimpse of home and the people she loved.

This city had always been her refuge, her constant in all the changes and upheaval. In some ways it was her cage, too. But it was time to fly.

[acuppellarp]

Welcome (again) to A Cup-pella, Kai! We’re excited to have you and Lara James in the game! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours. 

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Kai + she/her Age: 25 Timezone: EST Ships: LJ + an NSA-less world Anti-Ships: LJ + unhappiness

IC INFO

Full Name: Lara “LJ” Rae James Face Claim: Hayley Kiyoko Age/Birthday: January 28 / 25 Occupation: Member of Geek Squad at Best Buy + Full time student at NYU Personality: adaptable, charismatic, impulsive, extroverted, creative, clumsy Hometown: New York City, New York Bio: To say that Lara James’ childhood was a mess and a half would be speaking politely. From the moment that Lara was born, her parents struggled. Her mother was a waitress for a small diner located in the heart of Manhattan and her father was a handyman for an apartment building that liked to pay him under the table. While it was nice to not have to deal with the taxes taking money from his paychecks, it meant that sometimes, the main provider of the house was not bringing home enough money for the family to live comfortably. There were many times throughout Lara’s childhood that she remembered the lights flickering before going out for days on end. This was something that typically brought on hours of screaming and bickering between her parents about all issues surrounding money and the unhappiness that it brought to them. While Calvin and Melissa James always strived to bring the best for their daughter, sometimes their money situation could not even provide a well balanced dinner for their daughter for weeks on end. It was something that Lara always thought to be normal and casual amongst the children of her neighborhood, but after being labeled a few horrific names from her classmates, she knew that wasn’t the case.

As she grew, things never really got better. Her father kept losing job after job, stress taking over his life, and turning him into a man that was filled with anger instead of the happy, bubbly man that she always loved and adored. Her mother had lingering eyes for every male that came into the diner, always wondering what life would be like if she wasn’t strapped down by the suffocating lack of funds in her family. In fact, when Lara was just seven years old, her mother’s lingering eye is what took her away from her family. One night, Lara heard shuffling outside of her bedroom door and before she was able to investigate what was going on, her mother was gone. She had packed her few belongings and left Lara and her father to their own devices. Later on, Lara would find out that she had met a wealthy man who was capable of giving her more monetary happiness than her own flesh and blood ever could. It was something that made Lara see that the world was not always as kind and forgiving as she thought it was.

It took her mother’s departure from their lives for things to turn around for Calvin and Lara, however. Once there was no other means of money and income coming into the apartment, Calvin started working harder to get jobs that were well paying and reliable for work. He started looking in construction, quickly becoming employed with a company that actually made him fill out a W-2 and do things by the book. The money started coming in more readily, and Lara was seeing things that she never had before: birthday presents, dinner on the table every single night, random gifts of appreciation from her father, etc. While they didn’t have much, there wasn’t a single day in which the lights went out in their home.

It wasn’t until her fourteenth birthday that Lara received a gift from her father that opened a door in her life that she had never been prepared for: a personal laptop. There was not a lot of extra money lying around, but the hefty priced gift was something that was met with a beaming Lara and a very smitten Calvin that he had done so well by her. For that next coming years, Lara spent her life on her laptop. She researched everything she could find, downloaded all the free video games that she could come across, and taught herself everything the Internet could teach her about coding (which was a lot). Her research and fooling around online quickly came to a staggering halt the moment she turned sixteen whenever she thrusted herself into a job. While she was just working at Best Buy as a cashier, it was something that helped her father out in little ways whenever it came to bills and purchasing groceries. He was constantly protesting her from working as much as she did, but Lara liked that she was finally pulling her own around the house.

Once Lara graduated from high school (fourth in a class of a few hundred), she focused on working and nothing more. She had always dreamed of attending college, but dreams did not pay the bills at home and Lara was terrified of racking up a bill with student loan programs. She was happy though. She climbed the ranks at her local Best Buy and soon enough, she was partaking in the program of Geek Squad. She got to spend time doing what she loved most, handling technology, and was getting paid in the meantime. It only took a couple of years and soon enough, Lara had padded her savings account enough to fly from her nest of a home. It was something that Calvin struggled with, but she was only living a subway trip away from his clutches.

Living on her own was something that Lara quickly found to be a lot more complicated than she had thought. She wanted to be the independent individual she always knew she was, but rent was hard to make every single month. Because of such a thing, Lara was quick to look for roommates. After a few duds came into her life, she came across Evie Miller. She was everything that Lara found annoying in a person, but for the sole purpose of wanting entertainment around her apartment, she decided to sign the lease with allowing her to move in. While it may have taken a couple of months, Lara and Evie soon became inseparable. Not to mention, Evie was the person who inspired and encouraged Lara to start following her dreams and enroll in college. Lara isn’t shy to tell anyone that her roommate is the reason behind her college success, but she keeps it under wraps that while she is attending school for a Computer Science degree, she’s also enrolled in a full time honor’s program. Pets: N/A Relationships:

Evie Miller: At first meeting, Evie was the opposite of the kind of person that LJ wanted to associate herself with. She was the happy-go-lucky type that was constantly barging into her room with her wide smile and multitude of stories, which always made Lara question her decisions about agreeing to be her roommate. However, as time has passed, Lara has considered Evie to be one of her closest friends in life. She’s the epitome of a ‘ride or die’ for Lara.

Matt Solis: For a person that runs the other way from love and actively states that it does not exist, she fell rather hard for Matt. They got along from the very beginning of meeting, and from the moment they kissed, Lara knew that she was screwed. She was wrapped around Matt’s pinky finger up until the moment that things weren’t what fairytales were made of. Somedays, Lara blames herself for being too flaky whenever things got closer and closer to true love. Other days, she blames Matt. While she isn’t entirely sure why she blames her, it’s sometimes easier doing such.

ACup baristas: Since Lara was heavily involved with one of the baristas, Lara spent a lot of time at the establishment. She even made sure to keep her menu hacking skills to a minimum whenever it came to being part of the customer sea.

EXTRA INFO

MON$TA LJ / @laranotcroft/description: sometimes i legitimately believe i might be the love child of a trash can and steve buscemi

Five latest tweets:

@laranotcroft: my top 5 best life moments is still when Smash Mouth RT’d me thats when i truly became an all star @laranotcroft: anyone gotta dollar ??? my bank account would be at $69 then and lemme tell you that would be delish @laranotcroft: ariana grande releasing new music every 6 months is why i’m gay as fuck @laranotcroft: im only a heaux whenever melted cheese is in the pic <3 @laranotcroft: FUCK U @NSA FIRST YOU LET ME INTO CANADA AND THEN YOU LET ME RUN AMUCK IN SINGAPORE ???? IDIOTS shoutout to cousin jay tho ur new wife is hot and its a hella good thing i’m back in america bitch <3

[serensama]

For Honour

Prompt One for Jumin x MC Week: ALTERNATE UNIVERSE!!!! I asked everyone a while ago what everyone would like to see and the most popular AU vote was for Samurai Jumin and Whore MC... now I realise that the RFA etc are Korean and not Japanese, but for this AU let’s just all assume they’re all Japanese Warlords okay???  A special shoutout to @sinfulinsecret, happy birthday bebe!!! I was going to write a story just for you today but unfortunately that nasty flu took hold and I couldn’t write it in time. Sorry honey bun, I hope you have an amazing day today though!!!  This story will include: 1) Mentions of seppuku, rape, violence.  2) Mild profanity 

He was tired.

His muscles were sore and every step he took made him want to scream, his bones crying in pain with each move he made. It was a long day, a long week really. The battle had taken its toll on him and his men and he was glad to just have his sword in its scabbard and not in his blood slicked hand.

Jumin surveyed the room, his cold steel eyes scanning every detail of the opulent entry before settling in to the largest room of the house; the room where the previous Daimyo would hold parties and important meetings with important people, but for right then, it was going to be used to just sit down in and breathe. He was dirty and his clothes caked in his own sweat and other people’s… he didn’t even want to think about it… but he needed to show that he was better than his fatigue, better than the grime that stuck to his skin and armour, better than the last lord that resided in this compound.

The old staff were promptly dismissed and given a hearty share of earnings for them to live upon until they could find new employment. He was not a fool, he could not trust anyone apart from those already beholden to him; those who fought and bled for him. His five vassals and their entourage were already securing the grounds and calling for their servants in the neighbouring village to make the day’s trek to join them. Jumin was so confident about winning the battle, he had them all come along ready to make this house, his new home.

Hearing the scuffle of feet and angry jibes, Jumin’s hand went to his sword to prepare to defend himself, only to recognise the voices the insults had belonged to. Saeran… Zen… I can’t leave you two alone for two minutes before you’re trying to kill someone new.

The shoji door shook open as a flurry of men burst through the door, the clanging of their armour bashing against each other, their heavy footsteps thundering upon the floor. His advisor stepped forward and straightened her kimono, a look of alarm written all over her face. Jumin’s brow furrowed, if even Jaehee was unsettled it must have been something for him to be concerned about. All the other samurai laughed and questioned his sanity when he chose the woman above the battle-hardened Zen or the master strategist Saeyoung; but she was the most well rounded individual able to juggle the most menial of tasks as well as solve the most complex negotiations with a well worded letter. Her hand to hand combat had even bested Zen, his most competent warrior, much to the man’s chagrin. Besides, it was under his Lord Jihyun’s recommendation that he took the woman under his wing and he couldn’t say no to his leader, or his best friend.

“My lord,” she began, her voice rising as the grunts of the men behind grew louder. “We missed one former staff member.”

That was it?

“Jaehee, if that’s all then you know what to do, give her-”

“She was found in the Lord’s chambers, hiding amongst his clothes and a quick search of her person found several riches tucked away.”

A thief then?

“Then simply cut off her hand and-”

“And this dagger,” she added showing him the small, simple knife.

Jaehee had stepped away from the fray to reveal a young woman, no older than his advisor- it was hard to tell with her kicking and screaming like a banshee. Zen and Saeran each had one of her wrists in their firm grasps, the strain of keeping her steady evident by the sweat on their upper lips. Jumin appraised the woman, in simple but well-made clothes, she wasn’t dirty or malnourished and she knew where best to hide to attack him unawares.

“I did nothing wrong!” she screamed, her voice surprisingly loud for such a small creature.

“We beg to differ,” his white haired General clucked, pulling out a pouch from his pocket and throwing it to Jumin. Catching it with ease, Jumin emptied the bag into the palm of his hand, the action causing the woman to pull at her captors and lunge towards him. The two men holding her instantly drew her back, their strength far outclassing hers and forced her on her knees. “Look what she had! Some of the best jewels in the old Daimyo’s cache!”

“They weren’t his!” she snarled as she twisted her head back to look up at Zen, her eyes narrowing to slits.

“And we’re to believe the word of a thief?”

“And a whore.” Jaehee added as she looked back down at the woman, a mix of pity and disdain marring her features. “The other concubines said that there was one missing from their quarters, a short haired beauty- the favourite, they feared her dead.”

Jumin felt his eyebrows shoot up towards the sky at the mention of her previous role in the household, he should have seen it earlier. A young, pretty girl with access to the Lord’s room and knowledge of where he kept all his fine jewellery… of course she was his.

“Such a shame. You would have made a fine-looking wife,” Saeran had tutted as bent down and took her chin into his hand so he could examine her. The woman on the ground violently wrenched her face out of his grasp before spitting onto his face. “You filthy good for nothing whore!” he screamed as he wiped at his face with the corner of his sleeve, his arm up ready to strike some sense into the woman.

“That won’t be necessary, Saeran,” Jumin said, his eyes focused on the brazen woman, his gaze never moving.

“My lord, honour dictates-”

“What honour has she taken from you?”

“I… well-”

“It’s hard to steal honour away from those who have none to begin with,” she sneered under her breath. Saeran released her hand and went to draw his sword out of its sheath before his older brother had intervened and pulled him out of the room, apologising for his twin’s short fuse before retiring for the evening.

“What was that you said?” Jumin asked almost amused.

“I said, that he had no honour. None of you do.”

“Strong words- coming from a thief… and a whore?” he chuckled incredulously at the woman’s impudence, understandable though as she was the favoured mistress. The old Daimyo was probably more in love with her than his wife, probably promised her those jewels and she was just collecting on it. Or, just perhaps, perhaps she was more than what they could see; a great story for him to unravel bit by bit. Perhaps she was merely insane. The woman turned to face him, her eyes blazing, her mouth downturned in a deep frown of disgust.

“Yes. From a whore,” she admitted, her head nodding along to her bitter words, “but not a thief. I have stolen nothing!”

“How could you possibly say that when we caught you with them?” Jaehee asked pointing to the jewellery that still lay on Jumin’s open palm.

“How could you possibly be certain that they were originally owned by that monster?!” she countered, her voice breaking mid-sentence. “How? Were you there when he purchased them? Had them commissioned for his wife? Were you? Were you there when his wife promised that hair pin to her daughter? That ring to her son’s future wife? Were you there?!” she challenged them, her chin held up in the air as tears welled up in her eyes.

Jumin sat back and allowed her words to wash over him. She was looking at them all in the eyes as she spoke, she didn’t stutter or falter, her breathing relatively even if not for the outburst she just had.

She wasn’t lying.

She was no thief.

“Who did these belong to?” he asked quietly, slipping the valuables back into the silk bag before drawing the strings closed. He noticed the woman relax as he placed the bag down on the tatami mat in front on him, seemingly happy to talk rationally now that the finery was not in someone else’s hands.

“My mother,” she whispered, her voice barely heard over his vassal’s breathing.

“Your mother?” he repeated, recalling the craftsmanship of the jewellery, the priceless gems and gold that had been used to create them- if her story rang true she was no pauper.

“My mother was nothing more than farmer’s daughter, it was my father, a merchant, who had them made for her,” she explained to them as she settled down, her eyes moving from person to person as she told her story. “My mother’s jewels were seen by the old Daimyo’s favourite courtesan, told him that she wanted them. So instead of offering to buy them from my father- he simply ordered his men to come into our home and take them by force. My father didn’t stand a chance. He was just was filthy merchant after all.”

The room had felt a thousand times smaller than when he had first entered it. He had heard of this story, from the villagers of the town they passed through. Whispers around him, asking if they were the men that came a over a year ago that murdered a local merchant and his wife, their two children going missing shortly after. She wasn’t lying… and he wanted to cut off her hand to punish her for trying to right the crimes against her. Jumin pinched at the bridge of his nose, a sudden headache blooming at his temples from the new revelations. Sighing he looked back up to meet his vassal’s stares and nodded before standing up, his decision made before he was completely upright.

“Miss-”

“MC, my name is MC,” she replied, her hawk-like gaze on his hand as he pocketed the pouch.

“I will bathe and retire to my new rooms,” he addressed everyone but only looked at her, “I want for her to be waiting for me there upon my arrival.”

His men looked at him aghast, he had never taken any woman to his bed- let alone a courtesan, a hostile enemy whore no less- but there he was asking for her to be brought to his chambers.

“Were my orders unclear?” he questioned, his grey eyes wandering over their shocked expressions. They all shook their heads and responded with a resounding “No my lord!”

Jumin spared a last glance back at MC, sitting on the ground with her body slumped and devoid of the spirit he has seen not a moment ago; but her eyes- they were still like pools of fire, burning and bright, difficult to look into but impossible to turn away.

The new Daimyo wiped the last drops of water from the back of his neck as he entered his room, the walls flickering with the dim light of the lanterns placed around his room. There, sitting on the floor at the edge of the bed in a flimsy white yukata, was MC. She had obviously been taken to bathe judging from the wet patch of where the tips of her hair had dripped onto the material, patches of her skin peeking through from the thin robe.

Jumin walked slowly, careful not to startle the woman as he knelt down and slid into the other side of the bed. He sat up with his hands folded in his lap as he waited for MC to say something, instead she sighed before pulling at the tie that fastened her clothes around her. She slid one arm out and then another before Jumin regained his senses and told her to stop, in a voice much more alarmed than he was used to hearing from himself.

Her back bare to him, her soft, smooth skin illuminated by the glow of the moonlight; Jumin almost gave in to his instincts and touched her- his fingertips barely centimetres from grazing her. He pulled back his hand and balled it into a fist against his lips, clearing his throat as if that were his plan all along, praying to anyone that would listen that the flush he could feel on his cheeks remained hidden from the woman before him.

MC looked over her shoulder to steal a look at him, the all-powerful new lord of the fief, was nothing but a blushing mess.

“What good is a clothed whore?” she asked as she slipped the robe back on, staring back at the door in front of her, wanting nothing more than to get up and go back to her bed and lock the door behind her.

“Who told you that you were here to be a whore?” he rebutted, his lips quirking to the side in a cocky smirk.

“I… what other use do I have to you?”

“Your story. Tell me it,” he commanded, his tone more biting than he intended. He could practically feel her bristle at him and his arrogance. “I thought it prudent for you to not have to relive all of that in front of a room full of strangers, but I need to know. I’m the only one who needs to believe you in order for you to live.”

“So, my head is still on the chopping block?”

“I never said that-”

“But you don’t deny it either,” she ground out as she turned completely to face him, her body rigid with agitation.

“Tell me.” He watched as MC looked uncertain for the first time since he had seen her earlier in the night, she seemed so much smaller even though she was closer than before, as if the slightest of winds could blow her away with barely any trouble. She picked at the fine blankets beneath her, fidgeting to release her nervous energy.

“This isn’t a pretty story; wouldn’t you prefer to read one of those books over there?” she asked pointing at the small shelf with a humble pile of books that looked like they hadn’t been touched in months.

“I’m not asking for a bedtime story MC, I’m asking for yours,” he simply answered, holding her gaze until she broke away to stare out onto the balcony, inhaling deeply to soothe her frazzled nerves. He could see her hands shake as she pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear, how she licked her lips once, twice before even uttering a single word and how she had fixed her stare at the wall just behind him.

She didn’t want to… and he would never force her.

“But you’re right, perhaps not tonight. Fetch one of those books for me,” he said, throwing his left hand towards the shelf as he tucked himself into bed. MC released a breath she didn’t know she was holding and got to her feet, the slightest wobble in her gait as she headed towards the shelves. Picking up the first book on the haphazard pile and wiping it absentmindedly on her hips, dirtying the pristine white fabric of her yukata, MC handed it to Jumin.

“Stay, listen. Then perhaps, soon, it will be the right time to hear your story.”

MC fell back to her knees and sat at the foot of the bed, astounded at the sudden twist in developments. She had never met a Samurai or Daimyo she had liked, any that were honourable or kind. She hadn’t met one who’d turned down her body. Feeling rather lost she let herself succumb to the smooth baritone of his voice and the calming timbre it held. Her adrenaline spent, MC ignored all decorum and lay on her back to keep listening to him read; she didn’t even care about what he was saying, it was just nice to listen to him. Apart from the slightest pause in his reading, the new lord didn’t say anything or flinch at the lack of manners she displayed, instead merely shifted to get more comfortable and continued reading.

The next thing she knew she was awake as the light streamed into her eyes from the balcony, her position at the foot of the bed lining her up perfectly with the sun’s first rays. Cursing herself for being so stupid, she realised that she had been wrapped up in the thick, expensive blankets of the bed, meaning he had sacrificed his own comfort for her own. A nobody. A whore. Craning her neck over her shoulder she saw that the rest of the bed looked rather pristine, like it hadn’t been slept in at all- did he sleep somewhere else? It would make sense if he couldn’t stretch out and was cold- actually it would have made more sense to kick her and tell her to get off his bed and back to hers.

MC sat up and looked around the room to find Jumin sitting at the table, pouring over the books of the household and reports from his vassals. Had he slept at all? Feeling somewhere in between mortified and grateful MC promptly made his bed and was about to bow and excuse herself when he spoke first, not bothering to look up at her.

“Again. Tomorrow night. Tell me your story. You will not leave here until I have heard it.”

“If you wish it, my lord.”

Night after night, she would come and share his bed, only to have him end up reading to her. Sometimes she found herself listening and following the stories, laughing and gasping at the right times. Other times she would be so comforted by his voice that she would be lulled straight to sleep and every morning, without fail, Jumin would be sitting at his desk reading and working.

“Do you ever sleep, my lord?” she asked one evening as she slid into her own blankets, a set Jumin had asked to be brought up and kept at the end of the bed for her. Jumin raised one ebony eyebrow as he lay the open book flat across one thigh. “It’s just- it seems like you never do.”

“Of course I do.”

“But-”

“Now shall we continue?”

“Uh, y-yes.”

“Very well.”

When she had woken from her restless sleep, there was Jumin sitting at the head of the bed, watching over her.

“This is the first time I have known you to lie,” she croaked, stretching her arms out as she sat up to mirror his seated position, her eyes still blinking the sleep away from her eyes. Jumin chuckled and swiped at his bottom lip with his thumb, embarrassed to be caught out for not only lying but for staring over a sleeping woman.

“I did not mean to.”

“Take your rest my lord. You will need your strength.”

“I am strong enough.”

“Even the strong get tired. Are you not tired my lord?”

“Impossibly so.”

“Take your rest my-”

“Jumin. If some pig farmer’s son can become my general and call me my name, surely you can be bestowed the same courtesy.”

“Sleep, Jumin.”

“I will try.”

He didn’t sleep but neither did she. Both of them too wrapped up in watching each other. Both too tired to question why they were staring. The next night, there were no new books for them to read, nothing left to hide behind. She sat beside him and looked him in the eye and smiled sadly.

Tonight then.

“My… my father lay dead, beaten and bloodied beyond recognition; so, my mother ran out to us, my brother and I- to hide us away in a wardrobe to keep us safe. As she was about to leave the room, she was set upon by a pack of men- my brother and I forced to listen as they passed her around like cheap sake. By the time they left it was daybreak and they left my mother a broken, grieving mess. She bid me take care of my brother, that she was dishonoured and that she needed to meet our father in heaven to apologise for being taken as she was. She chose to leave this life, chose to leave us- because honour demanded it. That was when I realised that there is no honour in death, only death.”

Jumin sat still as her words crashed over him, the helplessness she must have felt, the grief that must have still resided in her heart. He couldn’t imagine having to deal with that. He was about to speak when he realised that she was still trying to talk, that there was more to her story.

“I had to look after my brother, he was only 10 and with no knowledge of how to be a farm boy or anything but a future scholar,” she smiled sadly as a dark chuckle trickled from her lips. “My mother had dreams for him to become an advisor the Emperor and he could have you know… the kid was so smart…”

Was.

“I sold whatever was left at home; tapestries, books, my fine clothes. My mother’s wedding kimono. Everything. But that only gave us enough to live for six months… with nothing left and no one hiring a girl whose only purpose was to become a good wife… I started to wander from village to village, getting whatever job I could get to keep food in my brother’s belly. I would wake and cook his meals for the day before I left to look for work- all before the sun rose, I worked and came home after the sun set to make dinner. I… sold my hair,” she whimpered touching the ends of where her hair would be if she hadn’t had cut it.

“My brother got sick, the consumption. I could barely afford to keep him alive when he was healthy… I couldn’t afford his medicine… not unless I… men would always say I was pretty… The first man I was with, I couldn’t, I just cried. I told him all my troubles, my fears, even though he didn’t ask. He told me he would help… and I was so desperate, I believed him. A Ronin with kind eyes. He said he would take me and my brother to a clinic with doctors to help him… he didn’t make the journey.”

MC paused, her eyes glassy and her chest heaving with her breaths, fingers twisted into the blankets. Still Jumin remained silent, the man knowing when it was best to hold his tongue.

“The man laughed. Thankful that the boy had died before our destination so he didn’t have to kill him in front of me… because he was no Ronin, he was a vassal of the old Daimyo you killed. He was taking me back here to whore me out because his lord was, what were the words he used, ah yes- deeply saddened to hear that he missed out on the fun. I was to be… the new fun.”

Jumin hadn’t realised when he had gotten up and started pacing the room, his rage swirled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach, bile burning the back of his throat. How could a man who called himself Daimyo behave in such a manner- where was his honour, his pride? He was glad he was already dead because the way he was feeling he could have torn the man in two with his bare hands.

“H-How are you still here? How did you not kill him? While you were with him or while he slept? I don’t understand how!” he cawed, disbelief emblazoned on his handsome face. A wry smile formed across her lips as she thought over his question.

“How? I just wanted to live. I wanted a warm bed. I wanted food. I wanted to live,” she repeated, her large eyes boring into his as he walked. So that was it then, she just wanted to live comfortably and not have to struggle- considering what she endured he understood perfectly why that would be the case- but considering what she had endured, he couldn’t understand how she just chose to take it all, lying down.

“But more than that- I wanted my family’s keepsakes back. Out of his mistresses’ greedy little fingers and for that I needed time. I needed to gain his trust to show me where he kept them. I wanted him to wake up one morning to know that I could have killed him, I could have done anything I wanted when he was most vulnerable. I wanted him to know, no matter how hard he pushed me that in the end I was never his, I was never broken. That whatever honour I had left was intact. Because I was alive! I made it!... there... there was honour to be had...to be found... in being alive.”

Jumin stared at the woman before him, a fire in her soul so bright he was hypnotised. She was more frightful than any man in his army and more cunning than any enemy he had faced. She was brave. She had dignity. In a world that stripped her of everything, she managed to shroud herself in honour. The Daimyo sunk to his knees before her, his grey eyes searching hers, his large hands clamping over the tops of her arms- his grip biting but held no malice.

“You-”

“Me.”

“Well done.”

“… Thank you.”

Opening a secret compartment in his wardrobe, Jumin brought a familiar looking silk pouch and handed them to her.

“You believe me?”

“They’re yours. How could I not?”

MC threw herself on top of him, her arms locked around his shoulders with her face buried in the crook of his neck. She felt his strong heartbeat as it started to race.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his chest.

Jumin could practically hear the thrum of her heart, how warm she was under his hands, how soft her lips were upon his skin. He closed his eyes and tried his best to recite all the proper kanji stroke orders of each character in a weak attempt to stop his thoughts from going to a place he had been fighting off since the first time he had seen her. MC pulled away slowly, her fingertips still resting against his broad shoulders as she looked him in the eyes. Tentatively she moved towards him, her mouth angling just the right way to kiss him; when she was barely a hair’s breadth away from touching him, he flinched.

“I thought I said I didn’t ask you to come here to be a whore,” he whispered, the tops of his cheeks flushing a bright crimson. MC smiled as her thumbs massaged the colour away, her hot breath fanning over his lips.

“I’m not. I’m just… here.” Their first kiss burned through him. Their second revived him. The third made him believe he was long dead, for nothing in the living world was meant to feel so good. When they parted, he knew that if he had to, he would wage war on all of Japan for this woman. He would be called tyrant and she would be called whore. And he wouldn’t care.

Jumin pressed a kiss to her brow in a sweet act of tenderness MC once would have never believed they could share and now was impossible to envision without it. For the first time in months, Jumin walked over to the shelf and picked a book. He handed it to her before simply sliding into bed, drawing the sheets away from her side to silently ask for her to lay beside him. Brightening the lamp beside her, she cleared her throat and began to read. Faltering over some words she had not come across in her limited studies, her reading was no less relaxing for the man… who finally fell asleep beside her.

When he woke, he was alone. The black silk pouch with her belongings gone. Jumin slammed his hand on the bedding, his anger raw and seething, his teeth grinding along one another, his stomach quaking.

He had trusted. He had listened and he had fallen. Somewhere along the way, he had fallen.

“… Tell me your story. You will not leave here until I have heard it.”

Ahh. So he had. And so she did.

The door to his chambers opened and without looking he screamed at them to leave him, that he didn’t want to be disturbed unless war was upon them and perhaps not even then.

“If this is how you act when you get some sleep Jumin, I’d rather keep you awake at night.”

The Daimyo turned back carefully, lest his eyes played tricks on him. With jewels dripping from her body and the golden hairpin glinting in her hair, he defied anyone to call her whore again. He defied anyone test her… their… honour again.

“And how do you propose to do that? Do you have more stories to tell, MC?”

She nodded, setting the opulent tray of food aside before falling into bed with him.

“So tell me, what might they be?”

“It’s a long story. It could take a lifetime to tell.”

“Then I won’t let you leave until you do.”

[yoon-kooks]

Hired by BigHit: Dreams vs Reality- Part 7

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, mentions of sex

Summary: As a talented underground rapper, you’ve just become Bangtan’s new hiphop coach! What happens when you meet the boy who has big dreams of joining the rap line?

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // Epilogue (text) 

“Ah, Taehyung!” A man with the same smile as Taehyung opened the door. He glanced at you and gave you a nod. “Is this the friend you were telling me about?” Friend? Since when were you friends?

“Yep, this is Y/N!” Taehyung gestured to you, and then to the man in the doorway. “And this is my father.” You bowed politely to his father, wondering what the fuck you had gotten yourself into.

Taehyung’s father then welcomed you into his home before giving you and his son some space. You looked around at the simple, yet elegant décor and the photographs that fit comfortably in each room. One picture in particular caught your eye. A picture of a naked baby boy, who you were sure was Taehyung. You picked up the picture frame, ready to tease him about it.

Bark! You put down the picture and stepped closer to Taehyung. A fluffy white dog trotted into the room to greet you.

“Soonshim!” Taehyung crouched down to play with the dog, who was trying desperately to lick the boy’s face. Once she finally succeeded, she looked up and tilted her head at you.

You jumped and grabbed Taehyung by the arm.

“You don’t like dogs?” He stared at your arms hooked around his.

“It’s not that I don’t like dogs… but I might have a slight fear of them.” You blushed, realizing he would probably never let you live it down.

Taehyung stood up. “Soonshim, sit.” The dog sat without hesitation and you were amazed at how obedient she was to him. You watched as Taehyung held his free hand out while Soonshim happily sniffed and licked at him.

“You can try it too, if you want.” He turned to you. “She’s a really good girl.”

Soonshim didn’t appear vicious in any way, so you released your hold on Taehyung’s arm and slowly extended your hand out to her. You noticed her nose sniffing around and getting closer to the scent of your hand. You watched her cautiously and pulled back when she tried to lick you.

Before you could give up and retreat, Taehyung wrapped his long fingers around your hand. His gentle grip calmed you down and allowed you to proceed towards Soonshim, who finally got a taste of your hand. The feeling of the dog’s tongue tickled, but you were more focused on Taehyung’s thumb massaging your skin.

You moved your hand up to Soonshim’s soft fur and giggled when she wagged her tail in response. She really was cute, just like her owner. “She likes you,” Taehyung chuckled.

You took a break from petting the happy pup and turned to the boy still holding your hand. “I like her too,” you said softly. Feeling ignored, Soonshim ran off and out of the room.

For a moment, things felt different between you and Taehyung. To you, he was always just the boy you were hired to teach rap to. Not even someone you thought of as a friend. But somehow, it felt so natural to stand close to him and hold his hand.

“Taehyung, when’d you get home?” An older women approached, making subtle glances at the hand-holding.

“Just a while ago.” Taehyung finally let go of your hand to hug the woman. “Soonshim really missed me, mom.”

“I bet she did,” his mother chuckled. She had a real sweet, motherly laugh. “But I didn’t realize you were dating-”

“We’re not dating,” Taehyung clarified. “Y/N was just a little scared of Soonshim.” You nodded in agreement, although it felt a bit like a slap to the face.

“Well at any rate, let’s go eat dinner!” His mother pulled you and him into the dining room.

-

You quietly ate at the table as Taehyung quarreled with his siblings over something silly and his parents laughed from the sideline. You admired him for his bright personality around his family. It had been a long time since you last ate in a family setting, so naturally, you felt out of place.

Taehyung paused to check on you and noticed your silence. “Y/N’s a really great rapper, you know. As great as Bangtan’s rap line.” Your face quickly flushed with red. You weren’t expecting him to compliment you in front of his family.

“Really?” His mother looked over at you.  “Thank you for working with Taehyung.”

“Every time I talk to him, he sounds so excited to grow as an idol,” his father added.

“Yeah, I really enjoy working with him.” You couldn’t help yourself from smiling. “He’s a good kid.”

-

After dinner, you followed Taehyung up to his room. It was a bit small, but you liked the cozy feel to it.

“Your family’s so nice.” You looked at his collection of random shit and picked up a cute pokemon plushie.

“Now you know where I get my kindness from.” He watched nervously as you held the poor plushie by its huge ears. “And stop that~!” He swiped the pokemon from your hands and made you sit on his bed as if you were on timeout.

“Was that a fan gift?” You pouted a little.

“Yeah, that’s why you shouldn’t mess around with it like that.” He crossed his arms.

“You’re something else,” you giggled. “You really do value your fans.”

“I think about them a lot.”

“Would you think about them more than a significant other?” You were surprised when the question slipped out of your mouth.

“That’s a good question,” Taehyung paused. “I’d be lying if I said I’ve never thought about that before.”

“What? Dating while being an idol?”

He nodded. “Remember how I told you Stigma was about a few different things?”

“Yeah?” You were suddenly intrigued. He had already told you about the guilt he felt when he left his family to become an idol. So what else would he share with you?

“I sometimes wonder if it’s okay for me to fall in love.”

Your eyes widened. “Why?”

“It seems unfair… to the fans who’ve supported me and Bangtan for so long.”

“So you would feel guilty if you started to develop feelings for someone?”

“Yeah… It just feels wrong.” Taehyung lowered his head. It bothered you to see him so down.

“Look, I don’t know what it feels like to be an idol who’s loved by so many people,” you said. “But I do know that if your fans really care about you, they’ll be okay with you dating someone else.”

“But wouldn’t I be hurting them?”

“They might cry and be jealous, but they would understand.”

Taehyung nodded. “So if I started dating someone, you would cry too?”

“I’m not someone who cries over boys.” But you would be a little jealous.

“Good to know,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes and plopped your body down onto the bed, ready to pass out. It had been a long day, but you were glad Taehyung brought you to Daegu with him. The more you learned about the boy, the more he grew on you.

You suddenly realized he had disappeared. “Taehyung?”

“Hmm?” his voice came from below. You rolled over to check the floor next to the bed and found the boy laying in a thick pile of blankets.

“No no no.” You hopped off the bed. As cute and cozy as Taehyung looked, you tugged at his arm to pull him off the floor. “You sleep on your bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No, I like the floor.” He calmly swatted you away.

“But you like your bed more, don’t you?”

“That ain’t a lie…” He opened an eye. “But I’m still sleeping on the floor.”

“Fine, then I’m sleeping on the floor too.”

“Y/N, please… What’s gonna get you to sleep in the bed?”

“I’ll only sleep in the bed if you sleep in it too.”

Taehyung immediately got out from his pile of blankets and sat on his bed. “Okay.”

“You do know I was joking, right?” you giggled.

“Come here,” he said, patting the space next to him. Was he seriously inviting you into bed with him? You had to admit, you were a little tempted to take him up on his offer. But even though you knew he didn’t mean it in a suggestive way, you were still hesitant.

“It’s probably best to sleep separately…” You tried to find the right way to phrase it. “I’m not exactly innocent when it comes to boys and beds…” It certainly wasn’t something you were proud of, but you wanted to give him a warning.

“Don’t worry, I trust you.” Taehyung’s soft words filled your mind. He always had a way of making you feel safe. And you couldn’t believe someone so accepting and pure-hearted existed.

“Okay.” You finally gave in and slipped into his bed.

A/N: After 562 years, I’ve finally updated this... But imo it’s getting to the good stuff~ And also, I really love puppies so shoutout to Soonshim 🐶

[pengirwinthepenguin-blog]

Don’t Worry

Summary- You, as a child, never had any friends or siblings. You also never had a father. So, it was basically you and your mom. Then, when you got older, you met your two older half-brothers, Sam and Dean, after your dad died. When they told you what they did for a living, you tried to help. And ended up in a bad, bad place.

Word Count- 3090

Pairing- Brother!Dean/Sam x Reader

Warnings- Cursing,  and a little fluffy angst ;)

A/n- My newest story!! I hope you guys like it! Feedback is always welcome! And, this is in NO WAY based off of the real death of John Winchester in the show, this was just easier to write! And, thanks to Daisy for helping me out. And, I’m going to be giving shoutouts to people who suggest stories!

“Mama?” I ask, my seven year old body standing in her embrace.

“Yes, honey?” she answers, her voice as sweet as sugar. I look up at her, and smile.

“Where’s my dad? Everyone else at school has one, and it was just us at the art show…” I say, my smile fading to gray. My mom looks down at me, pushing me back and squatting down to my level. I look at her, her eyes serious.

“Your dad…” she started, “Your dad left us. Once his other wife died, he left us. But that doesn’t matter,” She paused, wiping a tear from her brown eyes. “We’re tough. Right, honey? We don’t need anyone else.” She smiled at me, kissing my small forehead. “Now go play while I make lunch.”

I didn’t have anyone to play with. Except Sully, my imaginary friend. He was the only one who had faith in me. The only one that would talk to me. We would play, talk, whatever we wanted to do. He was like the brother I never had.

“C’mon, Sully!” I yell, putting my hands in the air and sticking out my tongue, “You can’t catch me!” I watch as my chubby friend hobbles after me, his rainbow suspenders tight on his shoulders.

“Golly, kid! You’re quick!” Sully laughs. I smile at him, laughing at his clumsy body. “You better go get lunch, Y/n, your mom is calling! We can play later!” He sticks out his tongue and disappears.

There’s my childhood. Scary, alone, and embarrassing. The worst part is, is that it carried on into my adult life.

Most of the time, it wasn’t that noticeable. I would smile and nod at people when they greeted me, and I was normally… fine. But other times, it was bad. For example, if I was at work, taking orders at McDonald’s, and a customer would come up to the desk, I wouldn’t say anything like, “What can I do for you today?” or “How can I help you?” Instead, we’d just look each other in the eye because I hadn’t said anything. Eventually, they’d just clear their throats and order. But I would always ask for someone else to deliver the order, because they’d probably give me the stink eye when I gave it to them.

And that was nothing. Nothing, compared to what I witnessed.

The worst part of my life probably started on the day my mother died, September 3, 2005. The day Sully told me to witness my own mother’s death.

I remember it so clearly. It was a Thursday. It was stormy, and thick gray clouds covered the sky like blankets. Rain started to fall, and Sully (who I had been playing tag with) told me to go inside. I scowled, but obeyed, because I knew that I shouldn’t be outside when it was raining. When I walked into the kitchen, I saw a man. He was tall, large. Not anyone my mom knew. I thought. At first thought, he scared me. I froze in the doorway, and then he looked away from me. I took the opportunity to slink out of the room, to the living room, where I carefully grabbed a book and began to read.

I was able to lose myself in my reading, but upon hearing my mother groan, I had to look. I watched in pure horror as the man cut my mother’s stomach open with a long, dangerously sharp blade.

I screamed bloody murder. The man turned and looked at me. It was then that I noticed that his eyes were pure yellow.

Just as I thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. I watched the man raise his hand, and my mother started to slid up the wall. I watched her slender figure crawling, scratching at the walls, trying to stop herself from rising. Her body reached the ceiling, and she cried. “Run, baby. Get out of this house,” she said, releasing a cry of pain from the large fire now engulfing her.

The worst part of this bit is that I listened to her. I ran away from my problems. A helpless, weak seven-year old, I ran away.

Eventually, I did find a place to call home. It wasn’t ideal, but it was good enough for me. I lived in a small house with a couple, Natalie and Lincoln. They were nice, but often too preoccupied with other things. I usually made my own meals, and had to find things to do when I was bored. We didn’t have a TV, unlike everyone else in our neighborhood, and I had read all the books in the house. Most of the time, I would play outside with Sully. Or, I would draw. Sadistic, terrifying drawings, but they’re still drawings. I knew that Natalie and Lincoln would forbid me from drawing if they ever found out, so I hid them in a hole in the backyard.

I didn’t know it then, but those drawings of demons and monsters were accurate.

Now, here I am. Motherless and recently fatherless.

Let me explain that second part…

I was reading the newspaper one day, literally cover to cover, and when I crossed over to the Obituaries section, a name stood out. I read the description carefully, and I was shocked.

John Winchester. John Winchester, John Winchester, John Winchester, I read over and over again. I had never met my dad, and he was already dead? I called the number listed under his name, and waited.

Hello? A man answered. He had a dark, mean voice.

Hi. I’m, uh, calling for John Winchester?

What do you want? I’m his son. I gulp. I have a brother?

Uhm. Sorry, you’re his what?

I’m his son. Did you not hear me?

Uh, no. I-uh- I heard you. I’m. I’m his daughter, I stutter.

Stop lying. I have no sister.

He hangs up the phone after that.

I sit there, still holding on to the phone, stunned. How could I have a brother and not know about him? I wonder. I brace myself, and then, again, call the number.

Hello? The same man says.

Oh, it’s.. Uh, it’s me again, I say nervously.

Stop calling.

WAIT! Let me explain, I cry.

You have 5 minutes. After that, I’m hanging up.

Alright. Uhm. John Winchester is- was- your dad, right?

Yeah, what do you want with him?

And your mom was Mary Winchester, right? The yellow eyed demon burned her?

Yeah..

Well, my mom was Evelyn Winchester. She died the same way. Pushed to the wall, pulled to the ceiling. Then boom, house is on fire.

You’re- I have a sister?!

I guess, I say, nervously chuckling.

Silence on the other end.

I hear a yell on my brother’s side.

SAM GET YOUR ASS OUTTA BED AND OVER HERE.

I stay silent, even though I wanted to laugh.

Sam, we have a sister. Her name is-- What’s your name? He says, bringing the attention back to me.

Oh! Uhm, I’m Y/n.

Alright. I’m Dean, and you’re going to meet my brother- OUR brother Sam here in a second.

There’s a muffled noise as the phone is passed from one man to the other.

Uh, hi. the other man, Sam, says. Y/n, I guess. I’m- Uh- Sam.

Uhm. Hi, Sam? I say.

Look, I don’t how well a phone call is gonna work out. What do you say we meet up at the park?

My first thought is hell naw. But then I remember that Dean first said he was John’s son, so he probably couldn’t be lying. I nod, then realize he can’t see me nod, so I say, I guess. I’ll make my way over in 10 minutes.

And so it began. My half-brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester and I lived a happy, 1-month life together. And then, one evening after dinner, they told me what they did for a living-

“We hunt monsters,” Dean says. I burst out laughing. “Like, the monsters under the bed?”

They stare at me. “Wait, seriously?” I say.

They nod grimly.

“Oh. Um- well, seeing as you’re alive right now, why don’t you take me with you?” I say. They look at each other carefully and I ask, “What? Why can’t you take me?”

“Y/n, hunting is too dangerous,” Sam says. “The only reason we’re alive right now is because we’ve trained for so long. And believe me, we’ve gotten hurt a lot. It’s not like we’re perfect hunters or anything.”

I nod. “Teach me how to stay safe.”

Dean exhales. “It doesn’t work that way. Basically, you’re good at it or you’re bad at it. You, just by knowing your personality, do NOT seem like a hunter. Sorry.” He looks me up and down, but noticed me wearing leather and jeans. Nothing too girlie.

I sigh. This one month of living with these two has been fun, but now it’s like they’re getting sick of me. They go to bars and don’t come home until the morning. Sometimes they just leave, most of the time telling me it’s ‘business’.

“You know what Dean?” I say, looking him in the eye, “I’m going with you, and you’re not going to stop me.” He stares at me, a look of pure ‘No’ in his eyes. I smirk devilishly and bolt up the stairs into the backseat of the impala. They sigh, and enter the car with me.

“You’re lucky we’re related,” Sam says, laughing. I laugh as well, going over to sit by the window. Dean was the only one who wasn’t laughing.

“C’mon Dean! Lighten up! Now we have some younger eyes with us,” Sam says, playfully hitting his brother’s shoulder.

I look at Dean expectantly. He sighs, and I know he’s given up. “I’ll try to be happy about this,” he says, “but it might be hard. But,” he says quickly, “don’t get the wrong idea, Y/n. I love being around you- it’s just that I don’t want you to get hurt. You know?”

I scowl. “Sure,” I say sarcastically. “But I think if you really loved me, you’d want me to come so I wouldn’t be ALONE IN THE HOUSE WITH NO COMFORT AND SCARED OUT OF MY MIND THAT YOU WON’T COME HOME!!!” I yell, letting out the true fear that I’ve had whenever they leave to go hunt. The truth is, I’ve been so afraid that they’ll die or get hurt during their hunting trips. It felt so good to let out all of these emotions.

My brothers’ eyes widen. I fall back against the seat, breathless.

“Hey,” Sam says softly, “It’s okay. We always come back home, don’t we? We’ll be fine. We always are.”

I nod shakily, and close my eyes and fake a yawn, but I’m not tired.

The rest of the ride is silent as we drive over to the forest. It’s gotten darker over the last few minutes, and fear begins to creep in. My heart beats faster, and I realize that I might have made a mistake by coming. I try to swallow my fear, and I open the car door as soon as we arrive.

Dean opens his door, but doesn’t close it as he takes three guns out of the container in the car. He hands one to Sam, and holds the other two carefully at his side. I look at him, expecting him to hand me one, and he catches my eye. I can almost read a message in his eyes- not yet.

Dean closes his door, and he and Sam start to walk deep into the forest. They walk quickly, and I have to speed walk to keep up. Damn you, mom. Why did I have to be so short?

Soon we’re in the middle of the woods. The brothers look at each other, and then Sam says in a low voice, “We need to teach her how to hunt.”

Dean nods. “Should I?” Sam shrugs. “We can do it together.”

Dean hands me the other gun. I stare at it- and all I’m thinking in my mind is, Dean just handed me a gun. DEAN JUST HANDED ME A GUN. I don’t know why it made me so panicked, but it did.

“Okay, Y/n,” Sam starts, “Let’s show you the basics. So really, that’s just how to manipulate the gun. I’m sure you know the trigger-” I nod, “- and this,” he says, pointing to a large cylinder at the end of the gun, “is the barrel. It’s where the bullet shoots out.” “Okay,” I say, and I fiddle with the different parts of the weapon.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean says quickly, “don’t touch all of those. I don’t want you accidentally killing yourself.”

I scowl. “Fine, then. Keep teaching me.”

Dean nods. “Let’s teach you this one next, then, for your own good. It’s called the safety, and it’s the part of the gun that’ll keep you from accidentally shooting it.”

He keeps going on and on, until I’m comfortable with the weapon.

“So, Y/n,” Sam says, “Today let’s hunt…” He looks at Dean. They exchange some sort of mental conversation, and Sam continues, “Lamias.”

“Llamas?” I say, puzzled.

Dean laughs. “No, Lam-i-as.” He describes one so that I know what to expect.

I nod solemnly, and Sam takes my hand and grips it tightly. I know that he’s almost as worried about this than I am.

We are walking more quietly now, and Sam and Dean are alert. Eyes wide, backs straight, hands tightly holding the guns, fingers on the triggers, ready to shoot. I do the same, but it doesn’t make me feel more confident.

We’ve been walking for about 10 minutes when I hear a noise. Just a small crack, then a thump, but I know it’s not either of my brothers. I freeze.

“Y/n?” Dean asks, “What’s wrong?”

I barely move my lips when I whisper, “I heard something.”

They both frown. Then I hear it again, and Dean and Sam look at each other, nodding. My heart quickens- now beating a mile a minute.

Dean points to a large tree with a thick trunk nearby. “Get behind it,” he orders. I oblige, pure fear racing through my body, and I watch as he and Sam each go to another tree next to mine. I peek from out behind it, and my heart jolts as a creature comes out of the bushes.

It has the head of a woman, but its bared teeth reveal sharp, blood-stained fangs. I gasp, then cover my mouth with my palm.

The rest of its body is a snake- a thick, dangerous-looking one. I look over at my brothers, behind two different trees, and they both look at me. Dean gestures for me to be quiet, and Sam nods his head towards the car. Run, he mouths. I frown. I don’t want to be caught by this vicious monster, but because I’ve never been hunting before, I take his advice. I readjust the gun in my hand, and, finger on the trigger, I dart out from behind the tree.

The lamia’s head whirls around towards me.

I run faster, but I can feel its breath on the back of my head.

It snarls, and somehow, I know it’ll be the last thing I hear.

I cry out as its fangs latch onto my ribs.

Pain shoots up my back and down to my ankles.

I fall to the ground, screaming.

And everything fades away.

“Y/n! Y/N!” I hear faint shouting, but I can see nothing.

I can hear everything they’re saying. Dean’s angry at Sam (who told me to run), and Sam’s a worried mess. Or at least that’s what I think is happening. I feel like it’s my fault that all of this happened. If I wasn’t so stubborn, I wouldn’t be in a coma at this moment. I hear the gentle beep of the hospital machines. I can hear the small, silent tapping of Sam’s foot. I’ve been hearing it for the past 4 days.

I write in the hospital bed. I feel myself waking up- but I don’t know whether it’s from myself, or all the meds they had inserted into my body. My eyelids finally begin to open, and Dean’s face is right in mine.

I can’t talk, but in my head I’m screaming. What the hell, Dean? WHAT THE HELL? I try to sit up to be more comfortable, but Dean puts his giant hand on my chest and pushes me back down. “Rest, Y/n. You need it,” Sam cooed gently. He’s trying to be calm, but I can tell he’s excited to know that I’m awake and well.

After awhile of trying to sleep, I gave up and turned to face Sam, who had been smiling the whole 20 minutes I’d been awake. He looked over at me and gave me the biggest smile I’ve seen in a long time. “Y/n, I’m so sorry-” he had started. I put up my pointer finger as a sign to stop, and  I shook my head no. “D-don’t b-be,” I stuttered, my voice as quiet as a whisper. He gave me a pitiful smile and laughed. “Alright, Y/n. Whatever you want,” I laughed my quiet laugh and smiled. I know he’s just happy that I’m alive, and he’ll never live down the time he almost killed me.

At the bunker that I now call home, the boys always tell me what they’re hunting, and me and their angel friend, Castiel, research for them. Keeping me safe is now the number one priority, so I follow their lead. I regret every second of that hunting trip, and I’ve never felt more pity for one person.

[xfirespritex]

Falling For The Perfect 10, Chapter 6

Chapter 1 can be found here: http://xfirespritex.tumblr.com/post/158091354468/falling-for-the-perfect-10-chapter-1

Chapter 2 can be found here:  http://xfirespritex.tumblr.com/post/158131017523/falling-for-the-perfect-10-chapter-2

Chapter 3 can be found here: http://xfirespritex.tumblr.com/post/158173737863/falling-for-the-perfect-10-chapter-3

Chapter 4 can be found here: http://xfirespritex.tumblr.com/post/158276501293/falling-for-the-perfect-10-chapter-4

Chapter 5 can be found here: http://xfirespritex.tumblr.com/post/158313099698/falling-for-the-perfect-10-chapter-5

 Shoutout to @wwesmutdonedirtcheap and @hiitsmecharlie for writing so well it gave me the energy to write my own stories.

If you want to find some incredible stories, check their pages. 

Also a shout out to those who have liked the first few parts of my story and reblogged them/commented: @thedeboniardevistation @xxnobodyshero13xx@gelinas22 @speedilyghostlycloud @fan-fiction-galore @amaranthine-reign@lordoftheringsmyass @justtheaverageblog1 @alpha-american @aineslight@reigns420 @deajm2116 @redroseblackwolfpack96 @blondekel77@shieldgirl95 @vebner37 @banrioncethlenn @moxtiel @caramara3@fmlallthewayup @breezy14fan

If, by some miracle you like my writing & you want to be added to the above list so you know when I post, let me know!

Story Summary: Told from the point of view of an original female character we follow the ups and downs of dating, and falling in love with, Tye Dillinger. Pairing: Tye Dillinger X OFC Chapter Summary: Tye’s brithday is here and Shanna hopes her gift is exactly what Tye wants. Note: No warnings for this chapter. Sexual tension, innuendo and other such things can be found but at this time, this chapter could be considered safe for work.

Please let me know if you like the story and I will happily post more!

Thank you to everyone who commented and liked the last chapter. Hopefully you enjoy chapter 6!

-Brittney

Chapter 6: A Gift

It was February 19th, a Sunday and Tye’s birthday. I woke up early and went downstairs, taking Sheriff out before cooking French toast and turkey bacon, making Tye his coffee and carrying all of it upstairs to Tye on a bed tray. Sheriff ran in the room and I scooped him up, putting him on the bed so he wouldn’t bark. Tye woke slowly and smiled at Sheriff sleepily.

“Hey,” he said, smiling at me.  

“Morning,” I said, smiling at him. Tye, noticing the tray, sat up.

“You didn’t go all out, did you?”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t,” I said setting the tray down.

“Where’s your plate?” He asked.

I smiled at him. “I have an early workout with Liv this morning. She needs the cardio push.”

“What?” Tye groaned.

“Oh, cheer up, birthday boy. You’ll get your presents later.”

“Promise?” he asked, smirking devilishly at me.

“Promise,” I said, smiling before I leaned down and kissed him. “I will see you later. You have lunch with the boys and dinner with me tonight, plenty of presents coming your way.”

Tye smiled and bit into a piece of bacon. I left him there, enjoying his breakfast and splitting the bacon with Sheriff.

I left in my car but instead of going to the gym I headed to the airport.

Tye’s family was there at the airport, or at least on the way. I parked my car and rushed inside, a sign saying “The Perfect 10 Family” under my arm. I waited at the arrivals gate. When their flight landed I held up my sign, shifting my weight nervously, biting my lip.

I saw his mother, father, two sisters, brother-in-law and two nieces, Rylee and McKenna.  McKenna, not even a year old yet, was fidgety in her mother’s arms. I held the sign up so they could see me and was relieved to see his parents smiling as they walked over to me. I put the sign down and started to introduce myself but was cut off by a hug from his mother.

I hugged her back, slightly shocked but relieved all the same.

“I hope you have a car big enough.”

I smiled and held up my keys. “I got an extra-large rental, told Tye my car had to go to the shop.”

“Sneaky,” his sister said. “I like it,” she said, coming over and hugging me too. A hug fest ensued. “Okay, let’s get your bags and get you to the hotel. My car is actually parked there so I’ll leave you with the rental. And yes,” I said, smiling at his sister. “There’s a car seat for McKenna.”

His sister leaned into me, smiling hugely. “No wonder my brother has been talking about you non-stop.”

--

That night I’d arranged for Tye’s family to be put in a private dining room of one of Tye’s favorite restaurants. I got dressed up nice, a different, less revealing green dress on to keep the theme up and went to get Tye.

I called him when I was outside and he got into my car, looking at it. “You got the car back already?” He asked.

“Wasn’t as big of an issue as the mechanic thought,” I said, smiling. I leaned over and kissed him. “Good lunch with the boys?” I asked.

“I’m still full,” he said, groaning happily.

“I hope you’re not too full,” I said, laughing. “Or I made the reservation for nothing.”

He laughed. “Trust me, I can’t wait for dinner with you,” he said, smiling at me. I kissed him once more and put the car into drive.

When we got to the restaurant I took Tye’s hand in mine and he smiled at me. “You’re too much,” he said, smiling.

I smiled up at him and lead the way into the restaurant, being sure to beat him to the hostess stand.

“Reservation for Dillinger,” I said, smiling at the host.

She smiled back, her eyes sparkling at me. “Of course, right this way,” she said, smiling. She grabbed two menus and led us through the restaurant to the back room, the doors closed.

“Why are we going to the back of the restaurant?” Tye asked, his steps slowing slightly. I tugged him along and when we got to the closed doors I smiled at him and released his hands.

“So, I might have lied to you about my plans for today,” I said, grabbing the handle on the double door to the left, the hostess to the right. I looked at her and knocked twice on the door before nodding and we threw open the doors.

“Surprise!”

The room erupted into noise and Tye’s eyes widened. His family and a few superstars were there but I know Tye only had eyes on his family. He rushed them, all other thought driven from his head.

I could see his mother crying and she hugged him. I smiled at the waitress and stepped into the room, closing the party room doors behind me to block the noise from the restaurant.

Becky came over and hugged me tightly. “You pulled it off,” she said, smiling. I smiled back.

“Yes, I lied to arrange a visit and a reservation and somehow it all worked out.”

Tye broke apart from his family and came right to me. He lifted me in his arms and kissed me, pulling me completely against him. I kissed back, smiling into the kiss before he pulled away.

“You did this? You did all of this?” he asked, his voice an octave higher due to excitement.

I laughed. “I didn’t know what to get you and then the package came from your family. I saw how much you missed them.”

“But, how?” He asked.

“Don’t worry about the how, just enjoy your party,” I said. Tye kissed me again before we all sat down.

Hours passed and we ate, drank, joked and laughed. When the cake came for Tye his little niece McKenna squealed in his lap as he blew out the candles.

Tye bounced McKenna on his knee as a waitress cut the cake and started passing out the pieces.

“How long are all of you here for?” Tye asked.

“Uhm, till Thursday. We’re here for your tapings,” his Mom said.

“How?” Tye asked. “I mean, we talked about you visiting a month ago and…”

“Shanna fixed it all for us,” his Mom said, smiling at me. I smiled back, feeling my face heat up.

Tye’s eyes fell to me. “All of it?” he asked.

I nodded and Tye leaned over to me, kissing me quickly. McKenna cooed and reached for me, the first time she had all night. I took her from him and she immediately quieted, settling into my arms. We all ate our cake and it wasn’t until we had cleared everything up and the bill was paid, I and the other wrestlers present shouting Tye and his family down and pushing their wallets away, that I noticed McKenna had fallen asleep in my arms.

I stilled when I noticed. His sister smiled at me and then at Tye, quirking an eyebrow at him as she stood. “You carry her out to the car and we’ll buckle her in, hopefully she won’t wake up screaming.” I nodded and stood carefully, Tye draping my coat over my shoulders, taking my bag in his hands. His sister placed McKenna’s coat over her, tucking it around her sides so she could stay warm.

When we got outside I bee lined for the rental and his sister opened the door with the keys, his brother-in-law racing ahead to open the door. Tye lagged behind, carrying Rylee who was also half asleep despite the cake she had just inhaled.

With his sisters help we placed McKenna in the car seat and Tye went around, putting Rylee in the booster seat.

“Uncle Tye?” Rylee said, sleepily.

“Yes, princess?”

“Is Aunt Shanna gonna visit us at home for my birthday?” she asked.

My heart jumped to my throat at the word “Aunt” and I buckled the last clip into place around McKenna. Tye looked at me across the backseat.

“I sure hope so sweetheart,” he said, kissing her forehead.

We closed the doors quietly and hugged his family goodbye.

“See you tomorrow?” His dad said to Tye. Tye nodded, smiling hugely.

“Tomorrow, Dad,” he said.

They pulled out, heading for the hotel. Tye came over to me and placed his hands on my shoulders, his eyes locked on mine. Everyone else left, Becky cat calling out of the car as she passed us. We stood next to my car and I shivered at the look he gave me.

“Home?” he asked.

I nodded.

--

We drove to his house and when we got out I went inside with Tye.

“I’ll take Sheriff out,” I said, smiling at him.

“Sure,” he said, smiling back.

I clipped Sheriff’s leash to him and we went outside, coming back in quickly. When I unclipped him he grabbed one of his toys and trotted into the living room, going to his favorite sleeping space I assumed.

I looked around for Tye as I closed and locked the front door.

“Tye?” I called out.

“In the kitchen,” he responded. I walked in and smiled at him as he stood by the counter, making two cups of tea.

“Tea?” For me?” I asked, smiling at him, exaggerating the rhyme.

“It’s the least I could do,” Tye said, turning to wrap his arms around me, lifting me easily and setting me on the counter.

I laughed at the quick motion and wrapped my arms around his neck. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“Tonight,” Tye said, placing his forehead on mine. There was a hint of alcohol on his breath though his last drink had been well over an hour ago. “You…you did too much for me today, Shanna.”

“What do you mean?”

“You…fuck,” Tye said, backing his head away from mine, running the heel of his hand over his eyes quickly. It was then I realized that Tye’s eyes were watering.

“Tye? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, that’s the thing. You…you gave me everything I wanted tonight. My family,” his voice broke slightly. “You…flew them out here, got them a rental car, car seats and booster seats and food and a hotel room…” he shook his head.

“It’s just my way of covering up the fact that I had absolutely no idea what to get you.”

Tye shook his head and wrapped his arms around me, going to stand between my legs.

“You’re too good for me,” he sighed.

“What?” I asked.

“Come on, I’m the idiot who doesn’t open his mouth for nearly a year, who still manages to get a girl who flies his family over a thousand miles for his birthday. How am I ever going to top that? How did you even afford that?” He asked, laughing.

“I used a lot of miles,” I said, shrugging. “It’s not a competition, Tye.”

He sighed and his hands slid around the back of my neck, his fingers gripping the base of my hair.

“You know what made me the happiest tonight?” Tye asked.  . I waited, shrugging to indicate I had no idea. “The “Aunt” comment from Rylee. Seeing McKenna fall asleep in your arms.”

“Yeah? Why is that?” I asked.

“Seeing my family take to you like that,” he said, brushing hair from my face, the action sending a shiver down my spine. “It just…makes everything else feel…better.”

I laughed. “You’re telling me? I’m the girl who went in your phone, got your mom’s cell number, called her, introduced myself, booked the flights and met strangers at the airport. Basically being like ‘Hi, I’m in love with your son, come meet me for the first time and surprise him for his birthday!’”

When I realized what I said I froze, I could feel my face heating up. A few second passed. Then a minute. Then a few minutes.

“What did you say?” Tye asked.

[jelenasymphony]

The Sleepover (1/2)- Jelena One Shot

Special shoutout to @letheavensin​ @jaysel​ and @jayselunconditionallove​ for always encouraging me to write <3

All of this came to my head one night after all that “Jailey” drama, and of course as a Jelena shipper, it got me. Took a really long while for me to finish it (almost a year lol) but here it is, the longest one shot I ever wrote. Thanks for reading :) xox

Word Count: 1734. 

Justin’s POV:

It was wednesday morning, and usually it’s such a boring day for me, but not this time.

Selena was coming to my place to hang out since we were trying to be friends. I mean, yeah, Hailey and I were something and i’m trying to move on but I still want Selena on my life, I don’t want to lose her after having lots of history together.

Hailey was spending some time traveling with her family, she hasn’t see them in a while since she spends most of her time hanging out with me, but anyways I won’t be alone with Selena, Alfredo will be joining us because he also wants to catch up with her. It would be awkward if Hails were here with us and also if it’s only the two of us with Sel, things never ended up well that way.

I decided to wake up earlier than the usual just to clean up the whole house, even if I don’t have anything to explain to Selena, I don’t want her coming over to see Hails’ stuff all over the floor or to find her shoes up the stairs. Hailey and I were too lazy to clean up everytime she comes over, just picking up the floor the things that were on our way or washing glasses just to drink some wine. I know Selena likes being on a clean place and of course, I can remember her coming over years ago and turning our “Netflix and Chill” session into a special ocassion for her to show me how to properly clean my kitchen or how to remove stains from a carpet, and I wasn’t going to risk our dinner because of my messy living room this time.

I spend almost three hours picking everything up, washing the dishes, taking out the trash and stuff until I was so tired I wanted to take a nap, but I couldn’t until I took a shower and decided what to wear in the afternoon. I know it’s very extreme for just a dinner but I wanted to give a good impression to Selena, all dressed up and clean, almost as I wanted to prove so hard that I was happy with Hailey, which was true, but would it be too forced to look like she changed me for good? I feel good by Hails’ side, but she doesn’t has the credit for my evolution as a person.

I tried to shake these thoughts out of my mind, because yes, I am happy with Hailey but I haven’t changed, I still being that guy who is lovesick for Selena and she was the one that kept me clean and humble, thing that Hailey doesn’t do that much, and as hard as I try not to compare Hailey to Selena, her ghost is always there in the back of my mind when I get into a relationship with someone new and it seems like it will always be there. 

Lost again in my thoughts, I hear the door bell ringing so I run down the stairs, only a few steps away from the door when it suddenly opened.

-Did you missed me? -Alfredo’s silhouette shows up in front of me while I try to fight against the disappointment over him not being Selena, although I knew she wouldn’t come up till 5pm. Fredo stares at me while he puts back on the pocket of his jeans the keys to my house- why you look so dissapointed of seeing your best friend?.

-I just thought she came up earlier -the disappointment in my voice is clear, but I don’t really care since is Fredo who I’m talking to, he knows me so damn well when it’s comes to Selena, he was always there third-wheeling and being our therapist after every fight or rupture, and tonight wouldn’t be different.

-You look so stressed bro, just calm down, it’s just her -he put his backpack down on the kitchen countertop pulling out some beers, rolling his eyes to emphasize the ‘just her’. But I couldn’t calm the fuck down, it wasn’t just ‘her’ to me.- By the way, put some pants on, she just called me to tell me she is on her way and I don’t really think your outfit is the proper one to start a friendship.

I look down at my pants to find I was wearing just boxers; I was so stressed with the ghosts of my relationship with Selena I totally forgot to shower, so I go back upstairs to get dressed and ready. 

It all took me half an hour -the adventure of searching for the right clothes- but I finally went downstairs, and got frozen when I could hear her laugh coming from the kitchen.

Selena’s POV:

The laughter that comes from my throat after Fredo tells me which is now probably my favorite joke ever vanishes when I finally see Justin, whom, according to Alfredo, was being a nightmare when he arrived -he told me Justin spent a big time cleaning everything up despite having a maid and that he really seemed nervous at the thought of us trying to be friends, which, to be honest, gave me relief of not being the only one nervous as hell here. 

I hate myself for the butterflies I instantly feel fluttering in my stomach the moment I see him enter the kitchen, dressed with light-blue jeans, a big black t-shirt and his favourite pair of black Adidas, his long messy blonde hair creating the aspect of bangs falling down his face, a simple look that God-knows-why looks just so good on him. I was the most persistent when it came to both of us moving on, yet there I was wanting to jump into his arms, inhaling his strong and oh-so-familiar male cologne, and never let him go, even when he was already being happy with Hailey. 

I was happy for him being happy, and all I ever want is to see him smile, so I’m not really lying to myself when it is about his happiness, but I couldn’t express the same when it came to him in a relationship. All I could see was him replacing me with someone new, doing all the things we used to do together -dates, trips, inside jokes, even the way we used to take pictures of each other. I truly know I shouldn’t lurk in their social media, but I found myself several times staring at their pictures on Instagram with the excuse of checking if he was okay and if he looked happy next to her -and the answer always seemed to be yes.

Realizing I've probably been disconnected from real life for a while now, I feel my cheeks blushing at the sight of Justin staring at me, knowing that Fredo's eyes are on my back watching every move I make tonight. -Hi Justin -the words come from my mouth weaker than I expected, and I feel the need for the earth to swallow me and make me vanish from there as I clear my throat, pretending I don’t feel a thing for the 21 year old guy standing right in front of me. -Hi Sel -he approaches to where I’m sitting in the large breakfast bar and stares at the hand i graciously pull in front of him, trying to be funny and give him a handshake, which he accepts but surprises me throwing me into a big hug, and I try hard not to smile against his chest, even tho I’m feeling like a little girl whom just got the most amazing birthday gift ever.- We're going to be friends that hug each other, okay? -he says graciously as he laughs and I get lost, feeling my heart ache at the smile he gives me. Gosh, how I miss being the reason of that smile. I nod laughing as I try to get the blood on my cheeks go away, and I hear Alfredo’s voice claiming it was a good start, leaving in clear evidence that the both of us were nervous as fuck about seeing each other again, plus me pretending that I wasn’t still in love with those honey eyes that just brought me so many memories to my mind and a knot of desperate feelings to my chest.

We spend the next four hours in the living room talking about life, we talk about our little siblings, our future projects in the industry and our families -and I can't help but feel a familiar kind of happiness bubbling over in me when Justin tells me he keeps in touch with Pattie, something we used to argue about when we were together; I never liked to know that he was able to turn his back on the woman who gave everything for him, so knowing that our arguments had worked to make him realize that he should spend time with his mother makes me feel that, somehow, I am still part of his life. Alfredo's voice becomes less heard as the conversation progresses, letting Justin and I enjoy each others company and catching up with those situations which we, although we don't say it, needed each other to know. Even tho I know this moment was gonna come, Justin finally names a situation where Hailey is involved, and I can't help but feel my heart crush when he happily tells me about a trip he made with his new girlfriend and I realize, not even after seeing hundred of articles about them on the news, I'm nowhere close to ready to hear his anecdotes about how funny was that time they went on a date on the beach and ended up looking like breaded chicken for rolling each other in the sand too much, while the only thing I could think of was about how much I loved and held close to my heart our dates on the beach.

Realizing I can't pretend anymore, no matter how strong I want to seem, I take the chance when Fredo asks him something about his trip to apologize and go to the bathroom, leaving the both of them talking as much as they want about how much Justin loves replacing me, taking Hailey to the same dates he took me.

[arathoonabroad]

Chapter 13

In which Katie uses 2,000 words to say "I was tired."

Thursday, September 21, 2006

There have been certain grumblings of the "are you dead?" variety concerning my lack of updates recently, and I apologize; hopefully this installment will both satisfy those grumblers and explain my (extremely out of character) reticence.

So. I actually managed to give up alcohol for a month, and here's the story of why. One week after my birthday, we accidentally threw the most awesome party ever. The excuse was the arrival of a new flatmate, the awesome Freya—so it was a "house re-warming" party. Our arrival time was set at eight, and the theme was "Heroes and Villains." At eight o'clock we four flatmates were sitting in the living room. Sarah had made the largest token to the party's theme, and was wearing an Astro Boy t-shirt and, most impressively, an Astro Boy pair of underpants on the outside of her jeans. Freya was dressed up as an evil version of herself, and I was dressed up as a not-evil clone of the evil version of Freya, which meant that we were both wearing cute skirts and glasses, but otherwise looking pretty normal. Amina appeared to be going as Amina.

"Did you invite anyone?" asked Sarah. A chorus of Not Really's ran 'round the room. "Me neither," she sighed. The party seemed a loss. I texted the few people I had invited and warned them it was dead.

And then people started arriving, and they didn't stop. The house was full of people. We’d purchased forty bottles of wine, and we ran out and had to go get more. My camera was passed from hand to hand, capturing people's costumes (most impressively a young gentleman dressed entirely in tinfoil). People we didn't know showed up. People we did know and didn't like showed up. Somebody's younger brother and his best friend showed up, refused to speak to anyone, and then passed out in the living room. We had Brazilians and Italians and Indians and Germans and more, but everyone drank like Aussies. At four o'clock my camera was full of pictures, we were full of alcohol, and we decided it was a really good time to go to a bar. So, we shuffled off to the bar, I broke a chair, and the rest is a blank until it was suddenly 8:20 in the morning and one of my newfound best friends was shoving his watch in my face and saying, "Aren't you supposed to be at work in ten minutes?"

Ah yes, yes I was. A special one-off Saturday job, shelving books in the bookstore part of the café. Still reeling, I leaped into work clothes and ran the whole way to the café, making it there in just ten minutes (rather than the usual twenty). My boss thought my showing up reeking of alcohol was hilariously funny, and I proceeded to shelve books, dwelling on all the stupid things I'd done the night before, for two hours. Two hours of silent book shelving in a silent café is a really good time to do some earnest reflection, and I'd done a lot of stupid things the night before. By the time I'd finished the last box of books I'd worked myself into quite a state.

"Come on, I'll shout you breakfast as a thank you," my boss offered.

"I can't, I have about twelve apologies I have to make," I said, and, brain now moving into hangover zone, I wandered home, collapsed on the sidewalk outside my house, dissolved into tears, and called my mother.

Not my proudest moment in Sydney.

So, from that day until the end of August, I went teetotal. Totally teetotal. This caused extreme consternation amongst my friends. I did prove very definitively that I am capable of going out without drinking; I also proved that it's almost impossible to go out and have fun without drinking, mostly because everyone else gets annoyed with your sobriety and spends the evening trying to get you to change your mind. Spending evenings explaining why you're sober is really, really dull.

Luckily, the flu that I'd picked up back in June was still around and getting worse, which meant that most of the time I was too tired to go out anyway. Some days I would come home from work at five, get straight into bed and fall asleep, wake up at eight and have dinner and then go back to sleep; other days I would pass out at 7:30 and not wake up until 7:30 the next morning. I'm not sure quite why it didn't occur to me that being sick for more than two months was a bit odd, but it just seemed to be one of those facts of life; I'm Katie, and I sleep for twelve hours at a time on a regular basis. The month of no alcohol dragged on, things ended (I think) with Marco, and then work took a turn for the worse.

The boss, bless him, figured out that he could pick on me—and pick on me he did. When he yells at Sara she yells back, and Kia set down boundaries early enough that he doesn't yell at her at all, but he soon discovered that with my tendency to a) internalize disapproval and b) burn banana bread on a regular basis, I could provide a useful outlet for the daily frustrations of café management. Day by day things got worse—to the point where the other girls were leaping in to my defense ("Don't speak to her like that!") and I broke down in tears on several occasions.

The breaking point came one Friday in early September. Late in the afternoon I found myself getting shouted and sworn at, top volume. The boss was throwing around a sandwich I had made and was so angry that he was barely articulate. I went into crisis-control mode, as usual, and solved the sandwich problem (there was no problem, it turned out—the sandwich was exactly what the customer had wanted). Then I spent the next hour cleaning and finishing my shift and getting more and more worked up. I was sick, and tired, and absolutely sick and tired of getting screamed at for no good reason.

The next day, shopping with Kia, I related the story. "If he treated me the way he treats you, I'd quit," she said frankly. I considered that option. I have enough money saved up for this trip that I could just stay in Sydney until I leave. The money from the café is great, but not a necessity. Why don't I just not go back to work on Monday?

But then, thinking it over that Sunday in our sunny garden, I had a far more liberating thought: if I have enough flexibility that I can quit, then I can also just behave any way I want to at work, and if I get fired, it's no big deal!

I can shout back!

I went into work on Monday eager for him to pick a fight with me. He was gonna get it! Anybody who throws a punch at me from now on is getting knocked out of the ring! Just you wait, matey!

And, of course, that change in attitude has meant that I don't actually need to shout back; bossman has stopped picking on me. The few times things have drifted back towards our old pattern, I've dug my heels in and gotten sassy, and then we go back to him treating me like a human being. The old adage about standing up to bullies is true, it seems, and I’ve emerged from the experience with a—potentially useful—thicker epidermis.

But I was almost too tired and miserable to appreciate my once-again enjoyable work environment. September had arrived and I was still sick, still in bed by eight o'clock every night, still knocked off my feet for days every time I drank alcohol (teetotal August having ended at last). I tried to go out for dinner with Brenda one night and felt so miserable I could barely stand. "You look like you're going to cry!" she said in dismay, and sent me home to bed. I had to get a taxi because I was too tired to walk the two blocks to the bus stop. I was too tired to go out, too tired to write. What is the point of being here, I wondered, if all I'm going to do is work and sleep?

At Mum's urging I went to get checked for mono, or "glandular fever" as they so quaintly call it here. (Shoutout to free universal healthcare, btw!) The doctor poked and prodded me for a while and finally said with a note of satisfaction, "Ah. You have an enlarged spleen."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"That means your mother is probably right," he said.

"My mother is always right about everything," I said glumly.

So they drew gallons of my blood and sent them off for testing, and then Cousin Becky arrived. 

Cousin Becky, one of my favorite people in the world, is moving to the Australian equivalent of Napa Valley until the end of the year, and touched down in Sydney first. So there's Becky, my big cousin whom I adore—and there's me, too tired and sick to show her a good time. Luckily, she was jetlagged and missing her boyfriend, so we were both able to be tired and miserable together. This somehow involved us buying extremely cute bikinis and lying on beaches for hours and hours, and then having lunches that consisted of wine and ice cream and dinners that consisted of phantasmagorically amazing seafood. Hey, if you're gonna mope, mope in style!

Becky left on a Sunday morning and I went straight to bed and slept more or less nonstop for the next eighteen hours (standard Sunday protocol at this point). On Monday I actually felt a little better. Tuesday even more so—to the point where I actually went out and had some drinks and got up to no good. Despite that, on Wednesday I was feeling, for the first time in months and months—practically normal!

That Wednesday was of course the day when my blood tests came in, and I slunk into the doctor's office feeling a bit sheepish. Here I'd just gone and gotten all these tests done on Medicare's dime, and just today my body was refusing to play the role required of it. Where was the drama, the lethargy, the I'd-rather-be-hit-by-a-bus misery? I have an enlarged spleen, damnit! I'm dying here!

"Nope," said my body, "Actually, I'm feeling pretty okay today."

So I was somehow unsurprised when the doctor explained to me that I don't actually have mono/glandular fever, at least not any more. (Glandular fever—honestly! What an archaic-sounding disease! Next they'll be telling me people still get scurvy, or gout, or the plague!) Very patiently he took me through all the different tests, all the different results that my gallons of blood had provided—and they all basically said I was a-ok. Even my cholesterol's pretty good, it turns out.

I tried to be enthusiastic, but I was still confused. "So, why have I been so miserable?" I asked.

"Sometimes, the body just gives out when it's being pushed too hard—when the patient is going out too often, or there's stress at work, or they're not eating the proper food."

World cup. Bossman. Cornflakes. Hmm. "Burning your candle at both ends?" I suggested.

The doctor looked at me carefully. "Sometimes I think some patients aren't just burning both ends—they're burning holes in the middle, too."

Point taken.