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pickledpascal · 2 years

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Are You Satisfied?

Chapter Four

Summary: On June's day off, her and Elvis get out of their apartment.

Warnings: light jealousy/possessiveness, light swearing, bad writing of a southern accent.

Word Count: 2.7k

Are You Satisfied? Masterlist

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With each day June left Elvis alone for work, he tried to find something else to do. His boredom was getting worse and worse as the days passed. He almost caught June’s apartment on fire just because he was trying to make dinner which ultimately made him banned from ever trying to cook something again. Though, June couldn’t really blame Elvis. She had a sneaking suspicion that his mom didn’t teach him how to cook because of the gender roles back then so he was pretty much helpless in the kitchen. And she wasn’t wrong. Not only about that but Elvis couldn’t work a modern oven or stove for the life of him, why the hell were there touch screens on a fucking stove? He hated it.

So when June had a few days off, they were both very grateful. June could relax and Elvis could do something, finally. Maybe even get out of the four walls that seemed to taunt him each day he stayed. June sensed his restlessness so the night before her days off, she brainstormed ideas on what they could do. They already went shopping and ate at her favorite taco truck but it’s LA! There’s so many other things to do there. She wrote a few things down in her journal to remember in the morning.

The morning was a different story. It started off the same way it usually did for Elvis, being awoken by a nice, sweet smell that he followed out of his bed. This time, though, his feet stayed planted on the ground when he caught sight of June, eyes wide. She wore a simple tank top and a pair of sleep shorts with her hair tied up in a ponytail. Her strong arms and legs were on display, dark tattoos curving around her limbs and even one up her neck. Elvis certainly was no stranger to women’s bodies but this felt different.

June was like no woman he’s ever known before. Those girls were usually dainty, petite, wore dresses or ‘girly’ clothes all their life with no intention of really changing that. Then June Monroe stepped into his life and ripped those ideas apart without meaning to. Her and her dyed hair, ripped jeans, combat boots, miles of leather jackets, and band t-shirts.

“Elvis?” June’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, a small smirk on her face paired with furrowed eyebrows. “You alright? You kinda zoned out for a sec.” She wasn’t too worried, just wanted to make sure he was back in reality.

Elvis shook his head before he coughed, “Yeah, m’good. No need t’worry.” He shrugged, snapping his gaze to her eyes instead of anywhere else on June’s body. Elvis was still a gentleman even if he felt this….. Attraction towards June. If his Mama was here, he was sure she’d beat the living daylights out of June just because he was the one staring.

June let out a hum, not sure if she completely believed him. “Well, we got waffles today.” She said, setting a plate with strawberries on the side in front of Elvis. June popped an extra strawberry from her plate in her mouth, winking at the man as she made her way upstairs. “Oh! And get dressed! We’re going somewhere today!” She yelled from the stairs.

Elvis watched June leave and blinked, nodding to himself after he listened to her instructions. He wondered what it would be as he ate, definitely not thinking about the way June captured that strawberry between her lips.

—------

June warned Elvis to dress comfortably because they would be gone most of the day and to also take the hot weather into account. So he did, best he could. He dressed in some simple brown checkered pants that he belted and a short-sleeved white button-up. His hair was practically the same as always but more strands seemed to want to be out of place. Classy but still suitable for the weather.

Then he saw June.

She wore a stark white sleeveless turtleneck, a necklace hanging on her neck outside of the shirt, some black high-waisted jean shorts that had custom stitching of stars, some band symbols, and hearts, a pair of fishnets that were tucked into some generic black sneakers. June’s hair was pulled back by a clip, showing off more of the blue underneath the rest of her hair.

“Ready to go?” June asked, grabbing her leather jacket from the couch. She was one of those people who would suffer in the heat to wear a jacket just because.

Elvis nodded, “I’ve been itchin’ to get out of here, you’ve no idea.” He admitted with a small smirk, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“Oh, shut up. You should be glad I wanna do anything right now.” June rolled her eyes, opening the door to her apartment to let Elvis out first. He quickly followed her lead and left as she closed the door behind them.

—------

For a while, the two of them just walked around LA. Elvis was once again captured by the modern parts of the city. All the LED billboards, expensive cars passing by, people playing on the street for coins, the different types of people that passed by them. Of course, Elvis did live past the end of segregation but it was interesting to see just how far society came in a matter of just a few decades. It was far away but it didn’t seem like much to him. They passed a building and Elvis couldn’t stop but stare into it. It was a performing arts school with people dancing elegantly inside, he admired the twirls and flips while June stood next to him.

“Y’know I was a ballerina when I was younger. It was fun.” June hummed, reminiscing on how her feet hurt after practice. “But then some of the complicated stuff came in so I quit.” She admitted with a small laugh. Same thing happened with cheerleading.

Elvis tore his gaze away from the dancers and looked at June. “Couldn’t imagine you as a ballerina.” He laughed a little, shaking his head as they continued to walk again.

“Trust me, it’s not an image you want in your head. Had The Chordettes stuck in my head for months.” June laughed quietly, running a hand through her hair to adjust some strands that fell in her face.

Elvis nodded along with her, an easy smile on his face. He hadn’t felt this carefree in a while. Sure, some people were starting to stare at him the longer he was outside the comfort of June’s apartment but he didn’t care. He felt like he was nineteen again, first going onstage for the first time at the Louisiana Hayride and having the time of his life. This was like that, much more tame but the same sort of feeling.

—------

Eventually, the two of them made their way up to the Hollywood sign which made Elvis complain about getting his boots dirty but he thanked the lord that they stopped at the sign for a little while and that June grabbed some water before they went up. He chugged his water bottle in one go, resting against the ‘O’ of the sign as he looked out at the city as the sun was starting to set. Elvis looked at the sign for a moment, realizing that it was restored. Perhaps he could be restored too, his image, his music, himself. Hell, Elvis already felt like he had a second chance at life thanks to a certain woman.

When he moved his gaze to June, he realized she was staring out at the city too and admired how the sun shone in her blue eyes. It reminded Elvis of how the ocean looked when the sun was shining from underwater.

June finally caught Elvis’ eyes after a little while and smiled at him. He thought they were about to kiss for a moment before June said something, “Race ya back down?” She asked with a wink. And before he could respond, she bolted, literal dust taking her place. “Loser has to buy drinks!” She yelled.

Elvis let out a sigh, it’s been a while since he’s run but he did, almost catching up with June but she had the head start so she was bound to win anyway. He breathed heavily once they were down the mountain, shaking his head as he followed June down the road.

“You’re a fucking cheat.” Elvis groaned, running a hand through his now sweaty hair. Well, it was sweaty before, but only from the heat. Now it was sweaty from the exercise. “An’you look like you go to the gym e’ryday!” He complained softly.

June rolled her eyes with a laugh, “That’s what a loser says! Plus, the gym I go to is in the complex we now live in. So you could go if you wanted to, I never said you couldn’t leave my apartment, just not the building.” She explained on the way to the bar they were going to.

Elvis didn’t know much about it, just that June said it served great drinks and was a piano bar. Maybe he could play a song or two if he was allowed.

—-----

Thankfully, the walk to the bar wasn’t too far or else Elvis was sure he’d pass out. He needed another drink. Or two. Or three. Hell, he needed six after being outside in the heat for so long, glad that the bar had some air conditioning. Arriving at the bar, he noticed June talk to some of the bartenders like friends. It was like she knew at least one person if they ever went somewhere. It was charming to see that she made friends everywhere.

“Is Mr. Criss gracing us with his presence today?” June asked with a smirk at one of the male bartenders who let out a laugh in response.

He shrugged, trying to look like he didn’t know anything. “Hmm, maybe he will. Maybe he won’t.” He winked, pouring out a drink for June. “But, just have fun tonight. Darren can’t be your only source of entertainment.”

June hummed as she grabbed the newly made drinks and walked over to their booth. She gave one to Elvis who was staring at her with curious eyes. She looked up as she took a sip of hers before letting out a small cough. They always made their drinks strong but she didn’t mind.

“Um, I know everyone here. Darren, the owner, and I lived next door to each other.” She explained as she took out the clip from her hair. Elvis watched as June let it fall over her shoulders.

Elvis nodded, taking a sip of his and barely batting an eye. He was used to strong liquor, Club Handy always had the best drinks around. “Would it be okay if I play on the piano?” He asked June softly, itching to play it.

“I dunno, usually Darren’s the only one who can play but I’ll ask for you.” June said with a nod as she moved back to the bar, yelling over all the other patrons that seemed to suddenly appear at the bar top. “Can my friend play on the piano for a song or two?”

Each bartender June asked just shrugged in response which was getting her nowhere. She pursed her lips until she felt an arm around her shoulder and heard a few small screams from the people around her. June turned her head and laughed a little at the man hanging on her side.

“Been a while since I’ve seen you here.” Darren said with a smirk, pressing a kiss to her cheek. He held her tightly, ruffling up June’s hair which made her laugh more.

Elvis watched the exchange from his and June’s booth, suddenly feeling very jealous and protective over June. Sure, she was a big girl who could protect herself but he didn’t know this man. That should be him, not some random guy…. But then again, he realized, Elvis barely knew the names of June’s parents or siblings. He really shouldn’t be jealous but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to hold her, kiss her cheek, feel her hair.

June rolled her eyes, shoving Darren off him. He seemed drunk already but his shift was just starting and June knew he just acted weird sometimes. “Well, I have a job. And one of those jobs is being your music producer as well as many other artists music producers so ....” She shrugged as she took a sip of her drink. “It’s been a hell of a week but I needa ask you something.” June coughed.

Darren deadpanned at June and nodded, wanting her to go on. The girl had a nasty habit of forgetting what she was going to ask someone or even changing a subject too quickly that she would forget how they moved on with the conversation.

“Well, my friend over there wants to give it a go on your piano. Think you can handle not being the center of attention for a little while?” June asked with a smug smirk, already feeling the effects of her cocktail.

Darren rolled his eyes and nodded, letting June walk over to Elvis to pull him out of the booth. “Just don’t break anything!” He yelled as June pulled Elvis to the piano.

The young woman also had a habit of accidentally breaking shit when she was hammered. For instance, she’d somehow detached some piano keys when she played at his house. That’s how June was banned from ever playing a piano Darren owned ever again.

“You got this!” June winked, giving Elvis a thumbs up as she stood a few feet away from him. The man’s hands grazed over a few keys and hummed, looking around at the bar as they started to gather around the piano.

Elvis looked down at the keys, pursing his lips as he pressed on a few keys. His hands had a mind of their own and they decided on playing an older song but with a little more rhythm and tempo than the original.

Well, that’s alright, mama

That’s alright for you

That’s alright, mama, just anyway you do

Well, that’s alright, that’s alright

That’s alright, mama, anyway you do

Maybe it was a bad idea, letting The Elvis Presley from fifty years ago play the piano and sing a song in front of, at least, a hundred people who all had phones and could film him at any time but June couldn’t find it in herself to care at that moment. Darren sure wasn’t helping, keeping the drinks flowing until he knew when to cut her off. But it was a fun night either way.

Well, mama, she done told me

Papa done told me too

Son, that girl you’re fooling with

She ain’t no good for you

But, that’s alright, that’s alright

That’s alright now, mama, anyway you do

Being tipsy wasn’t the best way to go home, but Darren was there to drive June and Elvis home. He and Elvis talk a little since they were still pretty sober compared to the girl giggling in the back at almost everything they said.

“Thank you, m’sure I wouldn’t’ve known how t’get back here.” Elvis said to Darren after he set June down on her bed. She started snoring on the elevator ride so he practically had to carry her up the stairs to her room.

Darren shrugged and gave him a smile. “No worries. When June wants to have a good time, I know where and when to stop her.” He hummed as he turned to leave, pursing his lips and looked back at the other man. “Just…. Take care of her. She’s like a little sister to me.” Elvis nodded tentatively, watching as the shorter man left.

Elvis sure would try to take care of June just as much–or more–than how she’s taken care of him. He just wasn’t sure how he could return the favor but he’d come up with something, he always did.

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nanatsumu · 3 years

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TEENAGE FEVER.

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x f!reader, oikawa tooru x f!reader

synopsis: iwaizumi has strung you on long enough and you’re finally at the end of your rope.

genre: heavy angst... like make your heart wrench in pain heavy, one sided pining

warnings: manga spoilers, bad grammar (didn’t know it was that bad until i used grammarly), MATURE themes, drinking, smoking, alcohol, iwaizumi being an asshole (he’s also a frat boy because surprise! frat boys should never be trusted), subtle hints at sex, bittersweet ending

word count: 5.9K

series masterlist

part one | part two | part three | part four

it was evident in the way you weren’t sure how to sway your hips to the beat of the music and the way you awkwardly isolated yourself in a quiet corner of the house, sipping on some soda (since you did not want your first frat party experience to end up with you wasted and throwing up on some stranger) that you were definitely not accustomed to the party life.

“are you sure you’ll be fine by yourself y/n?” your roommate asked you with a concerned look on her face.

“i’ll be fine reina,” you give her a tight-lipped smile as you gesture to the phone in your hand. “i’ll just sit here and chill on my phone until you get back.”

“okay okay, i’ll quit babying you now,” she throws her hands up in the air. “call me if some dude tries to hit on you though.”

“will do, but i doubt with how loud the music is that you’ll even answer,” you playfully roll your eyes as she erupts in a fit of laughter.

the brunette pats the back pocket of her jeans where her phone currently resides at.

“even if i don’t hear it, i’ll feel it.”

it becomes quiet momentarily (besides what you assume is i love it by dean blaring in the background) until she starts to looks around warily before leaning in and whispering something into your ear.

“if a hajime iwaizumi tries to talk to you, try to find a way to get out of the conversation,” she pauses for a moment before continuing. “that guy is seriously bad news.”

“y-yeah, i’ll... do that.” you hear her let out a sigh of relief as she straightens up her posture.

it’s hard to hear what she’s saying from there on out, especially with how obnoxiously loud the music has gotten, but you manage to catch the words ‘friends’ and ‘beer pong’ before she slips away amongst the sea of students and you’re left sitting alone on a couch by yourself with only your phone as entertainment.

you had recently moved to california from japan on an academic scholarship for uci, so when you heard reina mention the name ‘iwaizumi hajime’ it sparked a sense of familiarity within you and piqued your curiosity as to if he was also a foreigner studying abroad.

you’ve only been living in the states for a month now which meant you were still getting used to the strange lifestyle here, so the thought of being friends with someone you could potentially relate to had always been swimming in the back of your mind.

“so what’s a pretty girl like you doing here all by yourself?”

a voice snaps you out of your thoughts as you let out a small shriek and the next thing you know, your phone flies out of your hand, hitting the person that just sat down next to you.

“ow!” he cries as he clutches his forehead in pain.

“shit! i’m sorry dude!” at this point you’re scrambling around, not sure where to put your hands as you wave them around haphazardly.

“you know, it’s not nice to throw your phone at someone who's trying to make conversation with you right?” the stranger says in a whiny tone as he switches over to rubbing the red spot forming on his forehead in an attempt to soothe the pain.

“and you know it’s not nice to sneak up on a girl if she’s alone right?” you scoff. “where the hell did you even come from?”

“my mom’s vagina.”

“i didn’t mean literally!” you growl.

he shrugs before making himself comfortable by resting his arms on top of the couch and spreads his long legs.

“y’know, i don’t appreciate you manspreading and i especially don’t appreciate the fact that you’re confident enough to do so when i have no idea who you are.” you grimace.

“the name is oikawa tooru, introduction over,” he gives you a lopsided grin. “but you can call me tooru if you’d like, apparently everyone calls each other by their first names here in the states.”

“japanese?”

“yeah, but i’m not a student here,” he places two fingers on your cheek and gently pushes your head in the direction of the kitchen where you see some people conversing with each other. “you see the guy in the denim jacket with the piercings?”

your eyes wander around until you spot a boy sporting a denim jacket with piercings, just as oikawa described, but you also take note of how oikawa failed to mention that his friend was absolutely breathtaking: he didn’t have a chiseled face but he did have a nice jawline, his hair was spiky but it was styled properly, but what stood out to you the most was the small patch of permanent ink on his wrist.

and it’s as if the heavens were on your side tonight because just as you were thinking about whether or not the tattoo on his wrist branched into something bigger and more complex, he slips off his denim jacket and the sleeveless t-shirt he had on underneath allowed you to see that his entire arm was covered in numerous quantities of tattoos varying in design and color that blended together seamlessly.

“he’s the one that snuck me in,” he leans in closer to your ear and you can practically feel his hot breath on the shell of your ear which makes you shiver. “it’s funny how much college can change a guy, huh?”

he continues.

“his demeanor back in high school wasn’t too different from how it is now, but it like... intensified after he moved here,” oikawa throws his body back and you’re relieved that he finally put some distance between you two because you weren’t sure how much longer you could take him being so close to you. “dumbass probably got caught up in the wrong crowd.”

“and what are you doing here?” you direct your attention back onto the chocolate-haired boy.

“me? i play for a volleyball team in argentina but i’m just visiting iwaizumi.”

your jaw drops and it’s not at the fact that he plays for argentina, but at the way he says it so indifferently like it’s not a big deal at all.

“wait, what the hell!?” you shake your head and take a moment to recollect your thoughts. “i thought you were a student at another school but you’re telling me you don’t even go to school at all?”

“yup!” he grins. “the season just ended and with the free time i have now i just decided to fly here and visit iwaizumi for a bit, y’know, see how well he's adjusting to the university life.”

“and you should’ve seen the look on my face when i saw him for the first time in 4 years and all of a sudden he has an arm full of tattoos and a shit load of piercings.”

“wait, did you just say iwaizumi?”

“hm? yeah, iwaizumi hajime? you know him? i heard he’s pretty popular around here, but i’m pretty sure it’s for all the wrong reasons though.”

“my friend told me he was bad news...” you say sheepishly.

it’s silent for a moment and you’re worried you might have said something wrong or offended your new friend (could you two even be considered friends? i mean he did pop out of nowhere and started talking to you) but your worries are all washed away when you hear a laugh escape his lips.

“i wouldn’t say he’s bad news, just rough around the edges and has a bad habit of hooking up with girls.”

“you know i don’t appreciate you bad mouthing me behind my back shittykawa.”

a deep voice startles both you and oikawa, and when you turn around to see who the owner of the voice was, your mouth grows dry when you realize it’s the iwaizumi hajime standing right behind you.

“iwaizumi!” oikawa stands up and walks over to the spiky-haired male standing behind the couch before slinging an arm around his shoulder. “i was just making small talk with...”

“y/n. l/n y/n.”

“y/n! a pretty name for a pretty girl,” oikawa winks at you and you roll your eyes at his shamelessness. “anyways i’m gonna and grab a drink.”

oikawa pats iwaizumi on the back before sauntering away, leaving you and iwaizumi to be alone together.

“so, y/n?” his gaze is intense and you can’t help but shift around uncomfortably in your seat at the way he’s borderline checking you out. “you’re not from around here are you?”

“uh yeah,” you scratch the back of your head. “i’m from japan but i recently moved here for university.”

“is that so?” you flinch subtly when iwaizumi plops down next to you but it doesn’t go unnoticed by the male. “relax y/n, i don’t bite.”

his voice is velvety with the right amount of gruffness to it, contrary to his friend, oikawa, whose voice is a bit higher and on the whinier side.

“so... what are you majoring in, iwaizumi?” you ask, attempting to make some sort of small talk with him.

“i’m majoring in sports science, what about you?”

“education,” you answer, suddenly feeling a bit less tense than you were earlier. “i wanna become a teacher, but probably just for primary school, middle schoolers and high schoolers scare me.”

iwaizumi laughs.

“and primary schoolers don’t? i have a little sister and she’s literally the devil incarnate.”

you giggle and you think about how easy it is to converse with iwaizumi, but the warning reina gave you earlier still lingers in the back of your head and so you’re careful not to let your guard down too much.

“so how are you liking california so far? it’s different from japan isn’t it?” he asks.

“well, it’s... different i’ll give you that,” you start playing with your bottom lip subconsciously as it’s a habit that you picked up back in high school. “but my roommate is nice at least and that’s the only that matters to me.”

“i’m also planning on moving back to japan in the future but it’ll only be after i finish university and get my bachelor's degree or something,” you continue.

“taking an internship doesn’t seem too bad either? it’s still a while before i graduate so i wanna try and enjoy my university life before i get into thrown into the real world because i don’t wanna be old and wrinkly and live with regrets— i’m rambling now aren’t i?”

“you’re alright,” iwaizumi smiles. “it’s honestly like a breath of fresh air hearing how you have your life planned out, or at least you have a plan on what you want to do with your life because most of the girls i’ve met or i’m friends with are either undecided or are all about ‘living in the moment’ and while being undecided or having that type of mindset isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it just gets repetitive sometimes being surrounded by the same type of people.”

“but you— you’re different from them, i like that.”

you can feel your cheeks starts to heat up and iwaizumi is amused by how you can get so flustered over such a simple compliment.

“thanks... i guess?” you compose yourself and try to cool yourself down by putting your hands on your cheeks.

“so what are you doing here at this party? you don’t strike me as a party animal.”

“because i’m not,” you chuckle. “my roommate dragged me here and i only said yes because i was told it was only gonna be a small get-together, though she didn’t mention anything about the booming music and the alcohol.”

“you a lightweight or something?” he cocks an eyebrow.

“i’m 19, actually, so still not legally allowed to drink,” you state as a matter-of-fact.

“so? i was 19 when i drank for the first time,” he says and you’re alarmed at how he can say it so casually.

“ha, no thanks, i’d rather not accidentally get wasted and throw up on someone later tonight.”

“well, i’ll make sure that you don’t throw up on anybody then,” he stands up and extends his hand out for you to take. “why don’t you come along with me and i’ll fix you up a drink?”

you look at his hand with a wary look in your eyes as reina’s words start to play in your head like a broken record.

‘that guy is seriously bad news.’

“so what do you say, y/n?”

you stare into his brown eyes and it’s almost as if he injected curiosity straight into your veins because the next thing you know, you’re sitting on the counter with iwaizumi standing in between your legs as he’s pouring a bottle of bailey’s irish creme into a tumbler glass for you.

“this is probably the best option for you besides white claw but i’m sure as hell not gonna have you drink that shit especially when it’s your first time,” he sets the almost empty bottle on the counter behind him before handing you the glass, which you reluctantly take. ��and i’m not gonna be an asshole and give you spirytus.”

you inspect the liquid by bringing the glass up closer to your eyes and whirling it around a few times in a way that is similar to that of a kid inspecting their halloween candy for poison or blades and it elicits a snicker out of iwaizumi.

“i don’t know... i told my mom i’d move to california to study and be a teacher, not go to parties and practice underage drinking.” you deadpan which only further humors the male in front of you.

“and i told my mom i’d move to california to study sports science, not pierce my ears and get my entire arm tattooed,” he says and you assume that this is his way of trying to coax you into drinking the glass of whiskey in your hands. “i’m sure a little bit of alcohol won’t hurt and i promise you’re not gonna get wasted, take a lick for all i care.”

“fine, but if i accidentally puke all over someone’s shoes then i’m counting on you to pay for dry cleaning.” you say before bringing the glass up to your lips and taking a tiny sip— and to your surprise, it wasn’t that bad.

the taste of whiskey wasn’t overbearing as the taste of cocoa and vanilla overpowered it, but you weren’t complaining as it made it easier for the drink to slide down your throat without you feeling the need to scrunch up your face in distaste.

“not bad right?” iwaizumi smirks and it immediately triggers your fight or flight.

“i haven’t even said anything yet.” you roll your eyes.

“well? what do you think then?”

his hand brushes up against your thigh as he goes to settle them on either side of you, effectively trapping you on top of the counter.

“i-it’s not bad i guess...” your words trail off at the end as you allow your eyes to wander away elsewhere in an attempt to distract yourself from how intimate this position feels.

“y/n,” you turn your attention back towards iwaizumi and your eyes widen at the close proximity between you two. “do you use any lip products?”

“just lip... gloss...” your breath hitches when you notice that he‘s starting to lean in closer as his eyes travel down to your parted lips.

but before he gets a chance to put his hands on you, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket as realization also seems to hit iwaizumi at the same time and he immediately jerks away.

“uh, i think my roommates calling me,” you jump off the counter and dig into the pockets of your shorts so that you can retrieve your buzzing phone. “i’ll see you around campus?”

“yeah, see you around.”

he watches as you head for the exit and once you’re out of sight, he leans against the counter you were just sitting on a minute ago and lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

“that was so lame of you iwa-chan.”

he turns his head towards the direction of where the voice came from and sees oikawa striding into the kitchen.

“you totally got her wrapped around your finger, don’t you?” oikawa states as iwaizumi chuckles.

“fuck yeah i do,” he brings his hand up for a handshake. “i can’t believe she fell for my ‘you’re different from other girls’ speech.”

“and i usually never go for freshmen since they’re always so damn annoying but y/n... she’s gonna be a fun one to play with.” he adds.

“you’re a real douchebag.” oikawa says as he downs the rest of whatever is in his cup before discarding it into the nearest trash can.

“hey, if i’m gonna move back to japan soon then might as well make the most of the time i have left here, right?” iwaizumi defends himself.

“spoken like a true jackass.” the chocolate-haired male snorts.

“whatever,” iwaizumi rolls his eyes as he runs a hand through his hair. “i’m leaving in less than a month and a half so i’ll hit it and quit it.”

“that phrase is so corny, why not ‘bust a load and hit the road’?” oikawa suggests.

“i am not having this conversation with you right now.” iwaizumi irks before walking out of the kitchen with a mopey oikawa hot on his trail.

“so rude!”

it’s been almost a week now since your encounter with iwaizumi and you have yet to see him around campus. well, it was inevitable as he was all the way on the other side of the school, but deep down you wished you could at least run into him during the course of your week.

you briefly remember reina giving you an earful once you got back to the dorms because you had explained to her the minute you two got back that you met iwaizumi hajime at the party and even met one of his friends.

“y/n, didn’t i tell you that you should stay away from that guy?”

“but he seemed like a really nice guy to me...” you started fiddling with your fingers.

“that’s what he wants you to think, y/n,” she takes a seat next to you on your bed and wraps an arm around your shoulder, patting it soothingly. “i just— you’re new here and from the moment you stepped foot in our dorm i knew immediately that you’re gonna live a successful life and the last thing i want happening is for some college playboy to break your heart and ruin your life.”

your heart couldn’t help but grow fuzzy at her words.

“trust me, if this were any other guy then i wouldn’t mind you talking to them, but hajime is notorious for breaking hearts and ruining lives,” she puts her arms behind her back and uses them to support her body as she leans back. “there was this girl back in my freshman year, half japanese half white, her name was kaori, and i’ve never cared to keep track of any of hajime’s flings but she was the most serious case.”

“hajime and her met the same way you and him did, at a party, and he chatted her up until she eventually gave into those pretty boy charms of his and they started going out. the first few weeks were fine and the entire campus was raving about how this was one of hajime’s longest standing relationships yet and they seemed to be at a good spot in their relationship. but it wasn’t until one day, photos of her nudes were plastered all over the entire school and someone in hajime’s friend group ratted him out and said that he was the one who started sending the photos. obviously the school found out but they couldn’t get enough evidence that hajime was the one who sent her nudes around but since they had to do something, they decided to suspend kaori instead for ‘distribution of explicit content’ and the whole school started flooding her dms with death throats and she was labeled ‘the whore of uci.’ i think she eventually got tired of everything because she disappeared from the school without a trace, like completely disappeared. all her socials were deleted and she deleted her number so no one could contact her at all.”

after reina finished the entire story, you were remembered speechless. sure iwaizumi was a bit on the flirtier side and didn’t hesitate to test the waters, but that didn’t mean that he was completely shameless and disrespected your boundaries. you had a gut feeling that underneath that tough facade of his was a boy who was a normal college student like everybody else and had a goal in mind that he wanted to achieve, but after hearing reina’s story you weren’t sure what to think anymore.

“that poor little thing, she was such a sweet girl and it’s such a shame that she just had to go and get involved with hajime. if she still went here then i’m sure you and her would’ve gotten along,” reina adds. “she kind of reminds me of you in a way, you have this innocence to you that can’t be replicated yet you actually have a spine unlike those girls that throw themselves at hajime. tsk, how shameless of them, throwing yourself at a boy who’s known for tossing girls to the side once he’s down with them.”

needless to say, after that long conversation you had with reina, you’ve started to become more wary of the boy, but an unknown force keeps pulling you back to him.

reina had invited you to another party this weekend and while you were a bit reluctant about accepting her invitation, you thought that this might be your chance at ever seeing iwaizumi again so with your one track mind, you accept her offer without a second thought which now leads you to present time.

you feel a wave of deja vu wash over you as sweater weather blasts from the speakers and you can feel the heavy bass shake up the entire house.

you and reina struggle to nagivate through the crowd all while trying to avoid the couples making out in order to get upstairs where her friends had texted her to meet and you’re glad you’ve gained enough confidence to give her the green light when she asked if you wanted to meet her friends because you’re not sure how much more your eardrums could take.

“it’s right here!” reina knocks on the door three times and just when she’s about to go in for the fourth knock, the door swings open, revealing an all too familiar chocolate-haired male.

“y/n!” he exclaims as he throws his arms around you and reina just barely manages to dodge his long arms.

“hey! you almost hit my fuckin’ face you douche!” she cries. “and who the hell are you? i’ve never seen you around before.”

“oikawa, you’re still here?” your voice is muffled by his chest and you have to muster up all of the strength you have to pry him off of you.

“baby, you’re gonna be seeing me around for a whole month!” you and reina give each other a blank stare.

“first of all, don’t call me baby,” you duck down and it proves successful in getting out of his hold. “and secondly, what are you doing here?”

oikawa pouts at the lack of contact but continues the conversation nonetheless.

“iwaizumi snuck me in again and i’m staying at his place for now so wherever he goes, i tag along,” he points behind him as you and reina peer inside the room. “so what are you guys here for?”

“well my friends told me to meet me here, but it seems like they’re fraternizing with the enemy.” reina scrunches her nose up in disgust and you catch a glimpse of iwaizumi with his arm wrapped around a blonde girl’s shoulder.

“well iwaizumi’s friends are friends of mine and since your friends are iwaizumi’s friends then you’re my friend as well!” oikawa proclaims as he throws his arms around both you and reina this time and pulls you guys in for a side hug.

“let’s head in!” he pulls you guys into the room, not forgetting to lock the door as it shuts behind him.

iwaizumi notices you and you give him a small smile before taking a seat next to reina, oikawa following suit as he sits next to you as well.

“hajime.” reina greets him with a curt nod.

“reina... nice to see you,” iwaizumi says briefly.

“so who’s up for a game of seven minutes of heaven?” the girl who’s in iwaizumi’s arms proposes.

“c’mon! seven minutes in heaven? really? we’re in college now, let’s do something a little more daring!” a boy with black hair shouts.

“fine, let’s play strip poker then!” you hear someone suggest.

all of the girls in the room groan.

“pervert, you just wanna play it so that you can see us in our undergarments.”

“isn’t that the point of the game though?”

“i don’t even know how to play poker.”

“is this your second time at a party?” oikawa leans in and whispers into your ear, not wanting to put all of the attention on your conversation.

“yeah, i wasn’t planning on going in the first place but reina managed to convince me.” you lied straight through your teeth, not wanting to spare the embarrassment of telling oikawa the real reason why you came to the party.

“oh really? what would have you done all by yourself on this fine friday night if you stayed back at the dorms by yourself then?” he questions.

“probably head to the cafe thats off campus and try their new milk bread,” you say bluntly.

“milk bread?” you turn your head a bit and see oikawa trying to stifle a laugh.

you slap his thigh which prompts him to yelp.

“what’s so funny idiot?”

“n-nothing! it’s just... i like milk bread too.”

“really?” your eyes sparkle and oikawa can’t stop the genuine smile that forces its way onto his face. “do you wanna come with me tomorrow to try it then? i was gonna ask reina but she’s going on a blind date or something tomorrow and i don’t wanna bother her.”

“sure, but why me?”

“well i don’t know anybody else here, and you’re technically like my friend right?”

“what makes you think we’re friends?” he says but quickly comes to the realization that it sounded a lot more heartless than he had intended it to.

“sorry that came off rude...” he sheepishly scratches his neck.

“no i get what you were trying to say, but i mean, i consider you my friend so isn’t that enough?”

“geez quit flirting you two!” reina groans as she pushes you and out of reflex, oikawa immediately latches onto your arms so that you don’t accidentally bump heads with him.

“we’re not flirting,” you roll your eyes before muttering a small ‘thank you’ to oikawa after he releases you. “i’m just inviting him out to that cafe that i’ve been telling you about since you’re too busy going on that blind date.”

“hey hey hey! you were to keep quiet about that y/n!” reina loudly whispers as everyone else in the room roars in laughter.

“oops! sorry reina!” you snicker behind your hand.

“oh you’re so gonna get it!” she tackles you onto the floor. “oikawa, hold her down!”

you feel an extra set of hands put your arms down as reina uses her legs to pin your legs down.

“w-wait! oikawa i thought we were friends! don’t—” your words are suddenly cut off and you begin to break into a fit of laughter as reina commences her tickle assault on you.

“f-f..fuck o— AHAHAHAHA..... FUCK OFF R-REINA!” you manage to say in between breaks.

after what feels like minutes of torture, reina finally lets up and you’re free from the shackles that is her and oikawa.

“you’re a traitor oikawa!” you cry as you sit back up, massaging your shoulders to release the tension that had built up in them within a span of 30 seconds.

the said male flat out ignores you though as he turns to face the rest of the group.

“any-who, who’s up for a game of spin the bottle?”

“that’s lame.” iwaizumi finally speaks up.

“you’re lame! don’t make me tell everyone what went down last friday when—” oikawa is about to continue his sentence when iwaizumi suddenly sends him a cold glare that shuts him up.

“scary!” oikawa wraps his arms around you for what seems to be the umpteenth time tonight. “save me y/n!”

you roll your eyes.

“you’re awfully touchy with someone who you’ve only known for a week yet only met twice,” you complain but don’t make an effort to shy away from his touch.

“but we’re friends right? you even said so yourself!” he smirks at the face you make when you come upon the realization that he’s used your own words against you.

“whatever, do what you like,” you mumble against his arms. “i seriously envy your ability to get along with people easily.”

iwaizumi lets out a low growl as he witnesses the scene in front of him unfold. he wasn’t going to let oikawa get to you first when he clearly had his sights set on you from the moment you stepped foot into that party last friday.

he was going to be the first man to make a move on you and what better way to do so than a game of spin the bottle?

“how about,” iwaizumi picks up the half-empty bottle of beer next to him as he downs the rest of the contents inside before placing it flat on the floor in the middle of the room. “a game of spin the bottle?”

“and you think seven minutes of heaven is lame?” oikawa scoffs. “didn’t lara jean play it in middle school in that one flashback in to all the boys i’ve loved before?”

“you watched to all the boys i've loved before?” you ask oikawa.

“hell yeah i did!” he grins. “iwaizumi told me it’s corny but can’t a guy love his chick flicks?”

“you’re so lame!” you giggle, even though you too had watched it.

“have you seen the second movie?” he asks as you two begin to go off-topic again.

“no i haven’t, i heard it was bad so i just never bothered to watch it.” you shrug.

“dude we should watch it together then!” he suggests.

“and if it’s bad then i’m gonna kick you out of my dorm.” you snort.

the black-haired male from earlier clears his throat which prompts you and oikawa to stop talking.

“first of all, oikawa, y/n, get a room, and secondly, let’s play spin the bottle!” he yells.

the first few minutes of the game were boring and the matchups were weird, to say the least: reina had to kiss the blonde girl (you found out her name was genevieve), the black-haired boy (kevin) had to kiss some girl who you recognized was from your seminar class, and then when it came to be oikawa’s turn, the bottle landed on him so he just ended up kissing himself through a mirror out of his own free will (trust me, no one there wanted to see that happen and no one could stop him even if they tried.)

there were about 12 people in the room, 13 including you, and out of everyone there the one person who you would definitely not want to kiss.

iwaizumi.

it wasn’t like you despised him or anything, but after hearing about him from reina along with the girl who had been sitting in his lap this entire night, you really did not want to deal with a target on your back and an enemy acquired within your first month of living in the states.

so when it came down to your turn, you were silently praying to the gods that it would land on anybody but iwaizumi— heck even oikawa would be a better option.

but it seems like lady luck had her smile turned away from you because as the bottle began to slow down, a symbol of your fate being sealed in this very room, it had landed on the one person you did not want it to land on at all.

“y/n, you have to kiss hajime!”

the whole room went silent.

“what?!” genevieve shrieks and the ringing in your ears lingers around for longer than you’d expected. “i am not letting some... freak! kiss hajime!”

“genevieve, y/n is not a freak,” reina defends you, oikawa following up with a ‘yeah! she’s not a freak!’ as well. “you literally just met her and you’re just mad you don’t get to kiss him.”

“and while i’m not too... happy with this either, rules are rules.” the brunette continues as she sends a disapproving look iwaizumi’s way.

“well, pucker up buttercup,” iwaizumi picks genevieve up off his lap and scoots over to you. “i’m about to make it up to you for last week.”

he leans in closer and you shut your eyes, preparing for whatever is about to come next.

his lips are soft in a way, and what’s supposed to be a quick smooch turns into a full-blown make-out session as he starts to deepen the kiss by holding you from the back of your head, tangling his hand within your hair, and tilting his head to the side for more leeway.

you try to push him away but it proves to little avail as the grip he has on your waist with his other arm is too strong. your hands mindlessly find purchase in his brown locks as his tongue swipes along your bottom lip, asking for entrance. at first, you’re hesitant, but when you open your eyes and you see him staring into your e/c orbs with that alluring look in them, you can’t help but part your lips just the tiniest amount as if to test the waters, but it proves to be more than enough room for iwaizumi to easily slip his tongue into your oral cavity, turning the kiss into battle for dominance.

he tastes like a mix of beer and mint, a strange combination but he makes it work somehow.

the hand he had on your waist trails further downwards and finds a resting spot on your thigh and you can’t help but let out a small moan at the way he starts to rub the sensitive part of your thigh as his hand inches dangerously closer and closer to your core.

it’s only when you start to hear whistling and the ‘get a room!’ comments that you remember that you’re still in the middle of a game of ‘spin the bottle’ and that there's an audience watching as you two shamelessly make out.

this doesn’t seem to faze iwaizumi, however, but the adrenaline in your body aids in your attempt to push him off of you and once you’re completely free from his grasp, you immediately make a beeline to anywhere else but this cursed room.

“y/n!” you hear oikawa and reina call after you but you would rather die than spend another minute in that godforsaken room— especially not after iwaizumi embarrassed you like that in front of everyone.

part one | part two | part three | part four

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anthrofreshtodeath · 3 years

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Inspiration struck last night 👀 - putting this here so you can let me know if it's worth continuing/if you would want to read more of it. Super AU!

Jane cut the engine of her Ford Ranger just outside the tiny strip mall off of Sixth Street. It had been a splurge just after she got brought on as the head baseball coach of Empire High School, a treat for herself for finally getting a big-person job and generating some regular income. Her mother had convinced her to do it, actually, because Jane had been on the fence for months, waffling so many times that Angela piled her in the family Buick and dropped her off at the dealership. Find your own way home, Angela had said, and it better be in that brand new truck.

Now, Jane was thankful for the push, because southern California summers in her old Civic with the busted A/C were no fucking joke. They were still no joke now, but at least she could blast cold air on her face when needed. Like now: even at six thirty in the morning, temperatures climbed above eighty in early August, and she settled into the discomfort of an already damp back. At least her front still looked fresh. She glanced in the rearview mirror one last time before she got out, taking off her adjustable black cap with her school’s insignia and smoothing the tied-back black hair on top of her head. Presentable and believable: a baseball coach with a ponytail and a Nike dri-fit short sleeve windbreaker over her t-shirt.

She hopped out, satisfied enough to not be looking like a hooligan, and when she planted her turf shoes, she could tell the asphalt was already on fire. The boys were gonna be whiny as hell this afternoon. That made her grin just a little bit. She ambled up to the donut shop-slash-panaderia on the corner, straightening her posture when the door jingled and signalled her entry.

The short, middle-aged woman with her graying hair in a bun and an apron around her waist brightened when Jane approached the counter. “Buenos días, Coach Rizzoli,” she greeted with a smile and voice so cheery, she’d obviously been up for hours already. Probably baking as Jane finished weight-lifting in her backyard before the sun came up.

Jane smiled softly in return. “Buenos días, señora Gutierrez,” Jane said, deferential even though at nearly 5’11”, she must have been almost a foot taller than Mrs. Gutierrez. “Como está?” Short Spanish phrases sounded pretty darn good in her mouth, she had to admit, for all the Sicilian she heard growing up, and for being a product of Santa Ana. Spanish was more common than English in a lot of her friends’ homes growing up, so she caught on quick. At least enough to carry on a polite conversation, if needed.

“Bien, gracias. Tengo sus conchas aquí,” Mrs. Gutierrez asked as disappeared behind the counter to find what she was looking for, Jane’s order, reappearing with six pink donut boxes.

Jane opened her nostrils wide to take in the smell of flour, sugar, and a hint of cinnamon for the white conchas, her favorite. It was enough to feed a small army, which felt just about right for the staff meeting she had been tasked with supplying breakfast for. The first of the new school year. “Qué bueno,” she replied, not sure if she was referring to Mrs. Gutierrez’s overall well-being or the pan in the boxes. She pulled out her cash to pay, slipping her wallet in her back pocket, and in the seconds that it took her to do that, a single, piping-hot styrofoam cup of coffee appeared on the counter in front of her.

“Y un cafecito come le gusta,” said Mrs. Gutierrez with a wink and a smile. Occasionally, she did this, and it was her way of taking care of Jane, one of their family’s best customers.

Jane had learned not to refuse it. She just blushed and bowed her head a little bit, her lips pursed in a bashful smile. “Muchisimas gracias,” she said, taking a sip. Mrs. Gutierrez always left the cinnamon stick in it and added minimal creamer, just how Jane liked. Jane held back a moan. She decided she’d partake of the rest in the car, and then pocketed her change. She picked the boxes up by the string tied to them and huffed, ready to begin the day. “Y el Jonny?” she asked, and Mrs. Gutierrez nodded her head towards the back of the bakery.

Jane nodded and made her way toward the door so she could pop around. “Qué tenga un buen día, Coach,” Mrs. Gutierrez called after her.

“Igualmente!” Jane replied, already on her way. She deposited her haul on her front passenger seat, keeping her coffee in hand, and then walked over to the alley between the Gutierrez bakery and the block wall separating it from the Cardenas market just across the way. She put her hat back on, threading her ponytail through its opening, and adjusted her Oakley sunglasses as she stood by the dumpster that Jonathan Gutierrez currently filled with broken-down cardboard boxes.

He heard her shoes scuffling his way, so he turned. “Coach Rizzoli! It’s early as hell,” he said, “what’re you doing here?” He sweated through the ribbed tank on his torso and the black basketball shorts on his hips. Jane commiserated, having helped her dad out on many a plumbing job in the summer when she was in high school.

“Well, first day for teachers is today,” she said, sipping her drink. “And I had to get some of your mom’s pan for the meeting. They’d expect nothing less. I’m here lookin’ at you because she exhausted all my Spanish skills, and I needed to remind you that practice starts at one today.”

Jonny, as tall as her, lanky too, smirked. “I’m sure you could’ve found a way to say that to her,” he teased, knowing that she couldn’t have, not well.

“You’re a riot. One o’clock, and not a minute later, a’right? I will not hesitate to bench our centerfielder for opening day if he’s late,” she warned. Then she started to turn.

“That’s like seven months from now!” Jonny whined, setting his box cutter down and running a hand through his thick black hair. “I got work today! Last day before school starts next week!”

Jane rolled her eyes. “The perfect hair thing may work on the girls at school, kid, but it won’t work on me. Find a way to make it happen - if you get into Fullerton, it won’t be because I sent you, but because you did it on your own. Part of that means showing up to practice on time. Even in August.”

Jonny sighed. His mom would understand, but his wallet would be crying. “I’m tryna save up for a pickup like yours, though, Coach,” he tried, batting his eyes for extra sympathy.

Jane laughed, and then he did. “Listen. You show up for practice on time every day this year, and you and me’ll have a talk about replacing today’s wages for that new Ranger, a’right?”

“Ok,” Jonny said quietly. He knew that Jane knew they didn’t have much money. And he knew that she knew most everything about him - she meant what she said. She’d taken him under her wing when she’d noticed his boundless talent and his faltering attendance. When she found out it was to make enough money to keep him and his brother on the team, she’d covered the cost in full. That was two years ago, and now that Jonny was an incoming senior, they’d righted the ship together. There was only a little more to go until he applied to the school of his dreams, the one with the killer baseball program and just miles from home.

It didn’t hurt that Jane was the first woman to play ball there as a range-y second baseman, was eventually drafted from Fullerton. He wanted to follow in her footsteps as best he could. “Good. See you then, kid,” she said. He knew that she knew the best way for him to do that was to grind. To eat, sleep, drink, and shit baseball.

“Hey Coach!” He called after her as she made her way back into the alley.

She turned around. “What’s up?”

“I wanna focus on my forearms this year. Should I go the Altuve way?” he asked, smiling.

The Jose Altuve way: banging sledgehammers into tractor trailer tires. Jane guffawed. “I’m not saying do it, but I mean hey, guy’s 5’5” and hitting thirty dingers a year in The Show, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jonny said. “I’ll take it under advisement. Thanks,” and with that, he waved Jane off. She spent the rest of the ride to school thinking about how to safely incorporate forearm work into the team’s regimen in a way that didn’t involve sledgehammers.

The bread had made her truck smell like heaven, and it was the perfect olfactory accompaniment through the working class neighborhoods of Coronita Heights - the part that she felt more comfortable in. She’d grown up down the 91 in Santa Ana, one of Orange County’s most vibrant cities, and her street looked a lot more like these than the ones that Empire High School sat on.

But Empire was one of the top 15 baseball programs in the state, and she had jumped at the opportunity to coach when she’d been approached about it. She packed the few boxes from her parents’ house, used the rest of her signing bonus to put a nice down payment on a house in Coronita Heights, and hadn’t looked back. It had been good for her - she kept in shape, used that teaching credential she’d worked on at Fullerton to teach PE, and led the Knights to a CIF championship in the five years she had been there. She hunted another.

Soon, the burger joints, smoke shops, and insurance spots gave way to expensive houses and palm trees, and she saw the massive campus come into view. She hopped out of the truck once she parked near the office toward the front, downing her coffee and tossing it in the trash. She tugged her belt, looped through her white baseball pants, making sure the fit was good, and then she took the breakfast out.

Another school year was about to begin, and she was determined to make it a victorious one.

___

Maura smoothed her dress in the full-length mirror of her bedroom for what must have been the hundredth time. It was tasteful: sleeveless, dark blue, with a thin black patent-leather belt around its waist. She paired it with black heels, and she looked good. She knew, intellectually, that she did, but this happened every time she started something new: the nerves kicked in and she doubted herself. She curled her impeccably styled hair behind her right ear out of habit, and then made her way downstairs for breakfast.

Her palatial home in Anaheim Hills sat overlooking the city below, still sleepy at six-thirty in the morning. She was anything but, having already completed her run and entire grooming routine. She perused the options within her double door refrigerator, still quite imposing even under the expansive wooden beams on the ceiling that ran from wall to wall. She thought about eggs, protein always a good start to the day, but then remembered the expected temperature and decided a cold breakfast of yogurt and berries would be best.

Again, it was too hot for warm coffee, but the massive cold brew dispenser she had readied just a few days prior called her name and she filled a tumbler with it and her favorite almond milk creamer. She’d have one cup with breakfast and a refill for the road, as she always did from May to October. She reveled in routine; it was what helped her not to shake as she brought a spoonful of honey, dairy, and strawberry up to her lips.

Today, despite her several years of doctoring, would be her first job with the living since residency. In fact, it would be her first non-clinical job, well, ever. Even when she had volunteered for research, it had been in pathology labs, or oncology centers, or Alzheimer’s wards. Now, she would head the pilot program for a pre-med track at Empire High School. Well, pre-pre-med, she corrected herself. The point of the program was to prepare students from non-private and non-charter school backgrounds for the rigor of medical school. And, as a graduate of the Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA, as well as Boston Cambridge University for undergraduate work, Coronita Heights Unified thought her very qualified to head its inception.

Maura was humble, so she did not consider that they also factored in her copious research articles within the field of pathology, nor her several awards from the Medical Board of California. But they did, and so today she started her teaching/counseling position that included Advanced Placement Anatomy and Physiology, as well as Advanced Placement Biology and an elective of honors molecular pathology to boot. She had negotiated that last one to retain a taste of her passion outside of teaching.

Satisfied both with her breakfast and her mulling, Maura rose from her stool at the kitchen island, its white marble counter still gleaming from its recent clean this weekend, and made her way to the sink. She rinsed her bowl, placed it in the dishwasher on the top rack with the others, and then washed her hands for twenty seconds. Soap on, palm scrub, back-of-the-hand scrub, webspace scrub, for as long as it took to hum happy birthday to herself, twice.

She reveled in routine.

She unscrewed the lid of her tumbler and placed it under the dispenser in the refrigerator again, watching dark coffee wash over ice cubes with pleasure. The properties of matter, their predictability and regularity, calmed Maura. She could predict where each rivulet would go with accuracy, and then watch the change of color with no surprise when she poured in her creamer. She could control how light or dark it became, and thus control its flavor. She savored that one last ounce of control before she screwed her lid back on and walked over to where her purse and rolling cart awaited her at the front door.

She took one last look behind her, at the open concept living room so large it needed a sectional couch that no one used because people hardly ever dropped by, at the kitchen with state-of-the-art, industrial appliances that often cooked meals for one. It was her home, even if all of that were true, and the way that the southern California sun poured in through her floor-to-ceiling windows thrilled her. It thrilled her the way it had the first time she set foot in LA, for her first day of classes. She let that embolden her as she locked the door and stepped into her S-Class.

Navigation popped up as soon the engine roared to life, already pre-programmed with the route to Empire High School. She saw the calculation of a twenty minute drive, rearranged a few numbers in her head as she thought about the day of the week, the time of the morning, and the unpredictability of the 91, and decided twenty minutes was probably just about right. She’d given herself a cushion for twenty-five, and with a glance to the men’s style cartier on her wrist, she smiled and pulled out of the garage towards the main drag that would lead her to the freeway.

She jumped out of nerves and surprise when the system notified her of a call coming in. She smirked when she saw the caller ID: Dr. Nina Holiday, Hoag Hospital. Maura pressed the call accept button. “Need a consult already, Doctor?” she teased, her own voice always just a bit foreign in the morning after not having heard it for hours.

Doctor Holiday scoffed on the line. “You wish,” she replied, and then there were beats of silence. “I just wanted to call to wish you good luck on your first day. And to see if you’d reconsider.”

“If this is Hoag’s way of trying to lure me back, by making their premier neurologist do all the dirty work, I think I’m going to have to pass,” Maura said, and Nina laughed.

“No, this is just a friend saying you’re gonna be missed is all,” said Nina. “But I respect what you’re doing.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Maura demured. “Pathology is in... very capable hands with Doctor Pike,” she said, and then immediately the two women guffawed.

“You couldn’t even get it out before you started laughing!” Nina asserted, “see? We’re up a creek with no paddle!”

“Whom the department decided to hire in my stead is not my business,” Maura replied professionally, “especially if they do not take my recommendations into account,” and then with more spice.

“You right, you right. And I know I said it before, but I respect you for this. I think my road to medicine might have been a lot easier if I had someone like you at my high school to guide me through,” Nina said seriously. “Just answer me something: you didn’t leave because of Ian, did you?”

Maura stiffened. She hadn’t wanted to think about that on her first day, but here Nina was, dredging it up. Maura wrung her hands on her steering wheel. “No. Not really,” she answered, and that was the truth. The timing of it all had just been awful.

“Ok. I just… with him being gone, I didn’t know if that would be better, or if you’d be haunted by ghosts, you know? If you stayed.”

“I think I needed a fresh start either way, Nina. I really do,” Maura said.

Nina took the hint that they were done talking about it. Her voice turned chipper again. “I’ve got a call at seven, so I have to go, but I’ll talk to you soon, ok? You can tell me all about your first week. Maybe over bottomless mimosas.”

Maura sighed with relief. She would need that. “Sounds great. Nina?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for calling. I’m… I’m going to miss you, too,” Maura confessed.

“Aw, Doctor Isles, don’t get all mushy on me,” gushed Nina. “Bye. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” Maura said after the line had gone dead.

Nina’s call had lasted most of the ride. Maura was grateful. Nina had been one of the few people to get to know her at Hoag. The hospital itself had a very competent staff. Excellent, really. And Maura was one of the best, so this led to a never-spoken, always-felt air of competition. It didn’t really lend itself to friendship. But Nina had consulted with Maura so often, that a comfortable working relationship eventually morphed into a casual friendship. That turned into drinks on the rare weeknights they had off and brunch on Sundays at some of the best spots in Orange County.

They promised to continue, and they would of course, but for the first time in their friendship, they didn’t work a floor away from each other, and Maura resolved that while she would do everything to keep it alive, she had to acknowledge the change. Fittingly, as soon as she did so, she drove into the staff parking lot at Empire High. Her new beginning.

Her welcome e-mail mentioned a staff meeting today, Friday, in the lecture hall at the front of the school, refreshments provided. So, she pulled next to the gunmetal gray Ford Ranger to her right, and gathered her things. Her cart could wait until they were dismissed to ready their classrooms, so she deposited her fob into her purse and sipped on her coffee for fortitude as she followed the sidewalk pathway past the front office to the lecture hall. She had mapped out the route when she had found out about the meeting, deciding that touring campus on her own before she began would reduce her anxieties, as well as the possibility of unknown factors. It was also why she had arrived right on time: early meant possible one-on-one conversations with strangers, and late meant all eyes on her as she hustled in.

She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head when she reached the glass double doors of the hall, and breathed in one last time. It was a big, 360 degree breath: it engaged her pelvic floor and spread her ribs equally. It lowered her pulse and calmed her nerves, and then she was ready.

When she entered, she heard chatter. Lots of it. When she turned the corner and yanked open the wooden door of the room itself, she was shocked to see what looked like most of the staff already deep in conversation in their seats. Some stood, others stretched their legs over a couple of seats at once, some laughed and some nodded seriously. For a moment, Maura panicked, then checked her watch again. She felt her heartbeat fall a little bit when she looked up to the front and realized that no-one had started the meeting. In fact, there was a small line at the sign-in sheet, so she decided that rather than have a breakdown in the walkway, she should join the line.

She mustered as much courage as she could and stood behind the last woman, who smiled at her politely. Maura smiled back and thanked whatever powers that be that the woman didn’t try to engage. The line moved quickly, and staff members grabbed what looked like sweet bread just off to the side of the table as they signed in. She forewent the sugar and decided just to take the requisite printouts instead. By then, things started to feel a little more like a normal job orientation, so she turned on her heels to make her way back to the crowd.

The confident turn ended up being another mistake, however, because as she started to walk, she saw no openings. It was like the middle of a very bad dream, in which she needed so desperately to blend in, but all she could do was stand out. She felt eyes on her as she passed tables full of other adults, she heard conversations quiet and alter when she walked by.

However, just as she was about to give up and stand all the way in the back, someone called out. “Hey,” the voice was firm, raspy, and kind. She turned instantly and it kept talking. “You need a spot? I was savin’ this one for my brother, but, big shocker, he’s late.” Seated at a table in the middle of the hall with an all-white backpack on the empty chair next to her, two aluminum bat handles sticking out on either side of it, was… “Oh, and I’m Jane. Rizzoli. By the way.”

Jane Rizzoli. Maura thought the name fitting. Jane was so tall and so dark-featured and so handsome that she needed an Italian surname. And by god, she had one. One with a trilled-r and a plural i and everything: it was perfect for her in the way that all its sounds signified abundance. Maura’s mind rambled and she caught it; she wasn’t even sure how the phonotactic rules of Italian applied to Jane’s physicality, but they did, and Maura sat next to her without hesitation. She chanced one glance to the length of Jane’s torso as she curled to put her elbows on the table, and then she met Jane’s dark brown eyes.

It was then that she realized that Jane probably awaited some kind of response. “Maura Isles,” said Maura, holding her hand out. Jane shook it and Maura was not at all surprised by the firmness of the shake.

“Hey Maura. I’m uh, I’m the head baseball coach here. I also teach PE,” Jane explained. Then she looked down at herself, her uniform and the bats in the backpack now on the floor. “But you probably guessed that.”

Maura smirked, and laughed softly. “I don’t like to guess. It puts people in awkward positions. But I would say there’s lots of evidence to that fact, yes.”

Jane laughed openly and then took her hat off. “Well, I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess you’re the hotshot doctor that they hired for our new pre-med pipeline.”

Maura raised a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. “And why would you assume that?”

“You talk like a doctor. And you dress better than everyone else in this room. Real doctor-y,” Jane wagged her own eyebrows up and down.

Maura watched Jane’s crooked grin, rapt. “One…” she began slowly, “doctor-y is not a word. Two, what if I were independently wealthy and taught, oh say, English?”

Jane shrugged. “Words are made up. And are you? Independently wealthy?”

Maura’s mouth twitched in humor. “Yes,” she answered. Jane threw her head back in defeat. “But, I am also the doctor piloting the pre-med program here.”

Just like that, the slender column of Jane’s neck brought her head forward again. “Thought so!” she said. Just as she did, The man who Maura knew from his photo online as the school principal walked in. People started to hush as he made his way to the front podium. Even she turned her attention, until there was the distinct warmth of whispering by her ear that dismantled all other thoughts. Jane was speaking. “Well, Dr. Isles,” she responded, “welcome to Empire High, then.”

#rizzoli and isles #rizzles #lauren writes rizzoli and isles fan fiction #the high school teachers baseball California AU no one asked for lmao #not sure if it's too niche or if there'll be interest for it #but it feels like if I do continue it it should be long?#idk we'll see

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anonymous0writer · 4 years

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Saving You II JJ Maybank

Part One: Fine Line

Author: @anonymous0writer

Summary: You and JJ had been best friends for as long as you lived. But the feelings that would change your status haven’t been said. Will the words ever be said?

Warnings: Alcohol use, parental abuse, swearing. Brief mentions of depression/ self harming.

Please read at your own discretion! (I struggle with depression so I wrote it how I experience it.)

Requested: “Reader and JJ are friends since kindergarten. She is his complete opposite - shy and low-key and introverted, but that’s why they fit so well together. They have feelings for each other, but never confessed. She knows about his issues at home, but JJ doesn’t want her to interfere, its dangerous. One day tho she sees as JJ's dad is abusing him and tries to help him, but she gets hurt as Luke slaps her too. JJ freaks out and after this mess he tells her how he feels”

A/N: This was really fun to write!! I love a best friends to lovers troupe. :) And this is long.... I hope you like it anon!! It’s also long..

Also: My second JJ series!! I actually have a plan for this, so it won’t be like Not Together Anymore, which was pretty bad! But for this series, I have four parts roughly planned... and I’m excited for it!!

Let me know what you think!!!

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Add yourself to my taglist!

If any one wants to be added to the taglist, let me know!! :)

Tags: @jayjaymaebank @rudys-pankow @maaybanks @everydayimfangirling @outrbank @thelocalpogue @teamnick @bxbyyyjocelyn

Y/N was laughing, with her head thrown back and her eyes alight with amusement. She didn’t catch the look her best friend gave her. But it was there, the secret glances filled with love and longing. In fact, ever since seventh grade, the two had been stealing admiring looks, hugging a little longer and smiling just a bit wider at each other.

They were in love, yet the strict line of “best friends” kept their mouths shut, confining them to longing and dreaming of the day one would toe the line. But years had gone by, and no one had toed the line or even stepped just a little too close to it. The line was there for a reason right?

They’d met in third grade, and once they knew that the person staring at them was their person, they made up for the years they missed quickly. The two, ever since they met at the field trip to the beach when they were eight, and forced to be in a group together, they never left the other’s side. At eight, they knew that they were soul mates. Maybe not romantically, but in every other way. They never kept a secret and never left the other behind. They had a secret understanding that they couldn’t abandoned each other. Y/N and JJ were each other’s rocks. Any thing they needed, the other would be there in a heartbeat.

And that’s how Y/N knew about JJ’s father way before anyone else. He’d been able to deal with it for a couple days, but when he showed up for work one day, grunting and wincing up a storm, Y/N demanded to know what had happened. JJ knew he couldn’t lie and say it was Rafe or another Kook. That was how Y/N learned that JJ’s father had beaten him ever since seventh grade and his mom left. Ever since then, whenever Y/N sensed something was off, she drove to JJ’s and found him hurting and bruising, and would nurse him back to health and kept her mouth shut.

JJ knew about Y/N’s struggle with depression. She’d been hurting herself by biting herself since the start of high school. The episodes hit out of no where, and when Y/N didn’t show up for two days at school, JJ knew something was very wrong. Y/N was never late to school. Hell, she hated missing class more than anything and came in once when she was half dead from a cold. So JJ had barged in, and found her in the shower, staring blankly at the wall, bruises and angry red teeth marks marring her arm. He’d nursed her back to health, promising to keep her struggles a secret from everyone, including her parents as long as she didn’t hurt herself anymore.

Both had secret they’d rather keep secret, but they couldn’t keep it from each other. They had a pact. They’d be there and help each other, and they’d never leave the other.

The two were practically attached at the hip. You didn’t see Y/N without JJ close behind. You never saw JJ without an arm around Y/N’s shoulders or her laugh chasing after him. They were always together, and it was a shock if you saw one alone. They didn’t avoid each other if they fought. Sure, they rolled their eyes at each other and called each other an idiot or a dumb ass, but they still sat close and acted as if there wasn’t a fight. They’d make up, deciding it was too much work to be mad at each other. But no matter what, they were always together. Some called them twins, or the two. Even the pogues didn’t call them individually. Even when JJ was begin a dumb ass, and Y/N was just sitting next to him, Kie would yell, “Quit it you two!”.

But with knowing each other since they were eight and spending every day together since then, and knowing each other’s deepest darkest secrets, they fell in love silently. They’d both crossed the line without the other knowing, thinking it was untouched.

And Y/N would’ve known that the blonde was in love if only she saw the look he gave her as she laughed. But she didn’t, so she never knew.

-----

The Boneyard party was in full swing, but a small group of kids from the Cut were sitting by themselves, opting for hanging out with each other instead of getting shit faced drunk with the rest of the kids.

Pope Heyward sat, back pressed against a dead tree, no beer in sight. The boy liked to keep the ‘signal clear’ and not get a DUI. The boy ran a hand through his hair, eyes bright as he talked. He wore an old fishing T-shirt and was sitting cross legged, talking enthusiastically with the girl across from him.

Kiara Carrera was shaking her head at Pope, waiting until he finish so she could launch into her own point. Her long and dark curly hair was tamed into a half up half down bun, the curls bouncing around her shoulders. She wore a bright yellow crop top, her shorts faded and worn. Her flip flops were discarded beside her, and she dug her bare feet into the warm sand. When it was her turn to speak, the boy on her right poked her in the stomach. Kiara slapped his hand, and started over.

The boy who poked his best friend was John B. Routledge. Called John B. because his father was also a John, and John B. fit him more than John. He laughed and poked the girl again, but let her talk as he took a sip of his beer. He was tall, tan and wore a half open button up. He sat on a log, and dropped the empty beer can to the sand, asking his best friend since the second grade to hand him another.

JJ Maybank grabbed the cooler seated next to him and fished out a beer, popping it up into the air for his friend to catch. “Nice one, slick.” He commented when the boy failed to catch it and it hit him in the stomach. The blonde laughed, smirking hard, but was able to listen to the girl who’s feet were in his lap. His hands rested on her legs, thumbs tracing small patterns onto her skin. JJ was wearing his famous backwards cap that tamed the blonde hair underneath. His tan arms were on display in his sleeveless T-shirt.

The girl with her legs on JJ was Y/N Y/L/N. Head thrown back as she listened to the heated conversation of the two next to her, and smirking at John B. and JJ. Her longest friend here was JJ, but John B. was in close second. Kiara was her sister and Pope was the fellow genuis. Each kid had their own connection to each other, but in all, they were the closest group of friends you could find, best friends since the day they met.

And with the closeness of the best friends came a few set of rules.

One: Never leave a Pogue behind.

However, the rule had been broken a few times when they came a little too close to the cops catching them. But the rule was the foundation of their group. They would die for each other and wouldn’t even think about leaving one. Except when the cops were inches away from putting them in a cop car. The cops were the only exception, though JJ had a knack for ending up there anyway.

Two: No pogue on pogue macking.

That was established by Kie. And seconded by Y/N. If people started to sneak around, the intricate webbing of their friendship would unravel. The rule sharpened the line between Y/N and JJ. This was also another foundation of the group. No kissing or messing around with each other, and everyone would be fine. Sure, they’d kiss on dares and on time Y/N kissed Kie because the boys wouldn’t leave them alone, but that was strictly... ‘professional’.

There were other rules, but none as important as those two. And, with the closeness of JJ and Y/N, people automatically assumed that they were a couple. Hell, out of the five in the circle, they were the only ones touching, with Y/N’s feet in JJ’s lap, his fingers tracing a soft pattern in her skin. There was no denying or arguing the fact that those two were the closest out of all of them. Soulmates was the one word to describe them.

“Alright, Kie,” JJ called out, thumbs pressing a little harder into the calf of Y/N. She didn’t mind it and smiled lightly at the surfer. “You gotta pay up.”

Kie glared, pulled out of her conversation with Pope. But now everyone’s attention was on the blonde. He smirked and raised his eye brows at the dark haired girl.

“For what?” Kie asked.

JJ laughed, “C’mon. The bet about-”

“Yeah, yeah. I know, JJ.” Kie grumbled, embarrassed about loosing the bet.

The five bet all the time. Nine out of ten times, JJ was involved, but everyone gambled with each other. Over stupid things, but one was always granted a kiss, money or fulfilling a dare. This time, the award in question was a kiss. If JJ could do three of the difficult tricks on his board, three times in a row without messing up, (in one go) Kie would give JJ a kiss.

But Kie being the clever girl she was, knew JJ didn’t specify the kiss. She smirked, and leaned forward, mouth hovering near JJ’s.

Y/N looked away, mouth twisting at the thought of JJ wanting a kiss from Kie. It made her heart ache just a little. Y/N had fallen in love with the boy in front of her since high school and had helped her through one of her darkest moments. The blonde never reciprocated the feelings, and Y/N never pursued them. The line between them was clear. Friends, and friends only. Even if she felt like crossing the line, she knew JJ would never feel the same way. Not in a million years. The countless girls he took from Boneyard parties and the locked doors was enough evidence of such. So Y/N kept her secret close to her heart, keeping it from the guy she’d never lied to in her whole life. She’d kept it for two years, silently yearning and begging the boy to feel the same way.

But here he was, grinning as a girl leaned toward him, rewarding him with a kiss. And not just a girl. Kie. The girl he flirted with shamelessly. Sure, JJ did that with Y/N, but it was toned down and not as obvious. Y/N even overheard the surfer refer to her best friend as “the super hot hippy chick”. It was obvious why JJ made the bet with Kie in the first place, no less established a reward as such.

But Kie wasn’t into him. Or the bet. She smirked for her own reasons and planted a soft kiss on JJ’s cheek. Kie pulled back and sat back down, ignoring the squawk of disbelief from the boy.

“That wasn’t the deal!”

“You never said it had to be on the lips, idiot.” Kie muttered, eyes glancing over to Y/N to see her friend frown slightly at JJ’s reaction. “You’re a dumb ass.” She reiterated, but this time for a different reason.

Kiara was the only one that knew the feelings the ‘two’ had for each other. But none of the two involved knew that she knew. She saw the way JJ looked at Y/N. Sure it was always different from the way he looked at everyone else, but something had changed in the past year. JJ had caught feelings later, but Kiara knew Y/N had loved the boy since the beginning of high school.

“What?” JJ pouted, flashing his baby blues. When Kie shook her head, the blonde turned to Y/N. “You’ll kiss me, right?”

The boy puckered his lips as they curved into a devious smile. Y/N blinked and met the eyes of her best friend. JJ leaned closer, waggling his eyebrows. However, Y/N recovered quickly, and smirked. She leaned in like she was going to kiss them, and then as their lips neared, she put her hands on his chest and shoved him back. JJ floundered, hands reeling and his jaw dropping in disbelief.

Y/N giggled, smiling at her best friend. But as her stomach erupted in butterflies at the thought that JJ asked her for a kiss, even if she was the second option, JJ’s stomach was sinking because of the slight rejection.

They knew each other inside out, but for their own reasons, they didn’t know that the other was feeling the same thing. They were falling in love, but they thought they were alone in the plummet, when they could be falling together.

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we-are-inevitable · 3 years

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not moving on, not looking back // javid (ch. 10)

A/N: y’all know the drill

TW: discussion of abuse (physical and substance related)

Read On AO3!

And that’s how it starts.

They stop at David’s beforehand so he can change out of his slacks, shirt, and tie, and if David purposefully wears an outfit to elicit a certain response from Jack, he plays it off pretty well. He had changed into a tight white t-shirt and a pair of jeans that fit in all the right places, hidden under a baggy hoodie that he didn't take off until he was safe within the walls of Jack’s home. It feels… empty, now that Katherine isn’t there to fill the space with her voice, her presence.

It’ll be an adjustment, but as long as Katherine and Jack are okay with it, then David will follow their lead.

David sits alone on his phone while Jack goes upstairs and changes. He scrolls through twitter for a while, until he hears footsteps and-- oh, holy shit. Jack walks into view wearing a black sleeveless muscle shirt and gray sweats, and his hair looks so deliciously messy from combing the gel out. He’d clearly gone for the more comfortable look, and David has to stop himself from staring.

“You want anything to drink?” Jack asks as he walks into the kitchen, which prompts David to stand and follow him. Jack grabs a beer from the fridge, offering a second to David.

“Hey, I know we kind of talked already, but… How are you? Like, really?” David asks as Jack takes a drink.

Jack takes in a deep breath and shrugs as he hops onto the island in the middle of the kitchen, swinging his feet. He looks up at David, who has positioned himself to lean against the counter about two feet in front of Jack. “It… It tore me up for a while last night, after she told me, but honestly? I feel a lot better. Like a weight’s been lifted. I had a bad panic attack, but we talked more last night than we’ve talked to each other in ages, and I… I feel like I got my best friend back, y’know? I didn’t get a lot of sleep, though, just… because it’s makin’ me think about stuff I ain’t never thought about before.”

“Like what?” David asks softly, tilting his head before taking a sip of the beer. “Not that- I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but maybe I can help a little. I don’t mind.”

“It’s just… Family stuff,” Jack admits, then rubs his forehead. “We told my Ma last night and she was, y’know, a bit disappointed, but she understood. I just… The whole divorce thing makes me feel like my dad,” Jack explains softly, crossing his arms over his chest. For someone who is nearing thirty, Jack looks like a vulnerable teenager right then. He slowly looks up into David’s eyes, gulping. “He always said he regretted not getting a divorce. He wasn’t a good guy at all. Homophobic, real republican, but my mom married him because he had a good job and a good family. He was the one to kinda push the whole football thing on me, but I was never good at playin’, y’know? Loved the game, but I didn’t have any skill, trust me," Jack says with a chuckle, shaking his head.

“Did they get a divorce? Your parents?”

“No, my, uh… My mama died before anything was finalized, and everything kinda took a turn. I got… I don’t know. I was really fucked up for a long time. The school counselor suggested that I start drawing my feelings or starting a journal or something, and it worked. Really well, actually. I loved it.”

“Is that what got you into art? Kath mentioned that you wanted to go to art school,” David murmurs, moving to lean against the island, right next to Jack’s leg.

“Yeah, actually,” Jack says with a laugh, then gulps. “My dad wasn’t a fan of me doing the art stuff. I took an art class in middle school, and we had a showcase at the end of the year. I invited him to it, and he-- Do you, uh, do you mind if I talk about this? I don’t wanna force, like, heavy shit on you if you aren’t comfortable,” Jack cuts himself off, looking at David with a gulp. “I’ve only ever told my ma and Kath about this. My dad just… wasn’t a nice guy.”

“Thanks for checking in, but I don’t mind, okay? I’ll tell you if I’m ever not in the right headspace, but, Jack, you’re going through a lot. Just let it out,” David encourages with a sad grin.

Jack nods, then takes in a deep breath. “So-- Art show. Dad said he wasn’t gonna come. Told me he wasn’t gonna support me doing something ‘queer’, even though I’m- even though I told him I wasn’t,” Jack explains, taking a long drink from his bottle with a blank expression on his face. “But, uh, he didn’t believe me when I told him I wasn’t, and he… slapped me. That was when I was eleven. The physical stuff continued, ‘specially when football season started up again and he saw that I was on the bench every game, ‘cause I really wasn’t good at it. It got… rough. It only stopped when my coach noticed a bruise when we were practicing and I- I guess I was real stiff and limping real hard, so he told me to sit out, and when I took my pads off, my shirt lifted up, and… My dad was in police custody the next morning.”

“Fuck, Jack,” David says in an apologetic voice, staring at him with a lump in his throat. “I’m so sorry you went through that… Did he go to prison, or--”

“Yeah, there was a bunch of evidence, so- so he went to prison. Really easy case against him. He was supposed to get, um, ten years, I think. The last time I saw him, he told me that he was glad my mom was dead so she didn’t have to see me 'turn gay’- like I said, he was a shitty guy. That… I don’t know. I used to be like that, too, but then one of my friends, a coworker of mine, came out, like… eight years ago?” Jack bites his lip, looking down at his hands after putting his bottle down. “I’ve changed. I realized that I was just actin’ like him. I never realized he was so… bad, until I became an adult.”

“Are you still…” David gulps. “You haven’t talked to your father?”

Jack looks up at David, and smiles sadly. “He had a heart attack in prison, about five years in. So… yeah. I’m all that’s left.”

David is at a loss for words. He doesn’t know what to say. This is not how he thought the night would go, but at least Jack was getting to vent and David was getting to know him on an even more personal level but, good God, Jack had been through so much.

And adding being adopted, losing his daughter, and divorcing his wife into the mix…

Jack has hurt more in his life than he ever let on.

“Jack, I… I don’t know what to say,” David admits with a frown, but slowly reaches out, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me all of that. You… You’re so strong, y’know? You’ve been through so much, yet you’re successful and smart and… I know we haven’t known each other long, but I am so, so proud of you. But- but you shouldn't have had to be so strong. You didn't deserve any of that. Not the… Not the abuse, or the homophobia, or the pressure. If you ever need to talk about it again, I’m just a phone call away.”

“Thank you, Davey, that means a lot,” Jack says with a tight-lipped grin, then gulps. “What about you? You got any skeletons in your closet? 'S only fair that you tell me somethin' sad now, y'know.”

David stares at him for a moment. He then holds up one finger and downs the rest of the beer in his bottle, taking in a deep breath once he is done. His eyes close and he tilts his head back, then begins speaking. “From the age of twenty-two to about a month and a half ago, I was addicted to cocaine. I had a brief stint in which heroin was a daily thing, but that stopped after a few months. Too expensive. I regularly had sex with drug dealers in exchange for pills, I’ve been kicked out of gay bars for showing up high out of my mind, I now go to Narcotics Anonymous meetings, and I have to spend, like, ten minutes every morning trying to convince myself not to call in sick just because I’m having bad withdrawals. Bad as in, like, shaking in the shower and crying because I feel like I need to shoot up.” He slowly opens one eye, shooting a sad grin toward Jack. “I guess we’re even, huh?”

Jack stares at him for a few moments, then lets out a laugh as he nods along. “I- I guess you can say that, yeah,” He murmurs, then looks at David with a gulp. “If you ever need anything, just let me know, ‘kay? I don’t… I don’t really have experience with that kind of stuff, but if you ever need anything, I’m here, whether you need to talk, or you… need somewhere to stay,” Jack says slowly, seriously, and David nods. “I’m right here, Dave. Just like you're here for me.”

“Thank you, Jack. I’ve been getting better, I think- the, uh, withdrawals are starting to mellow out, at least a little bit, but it’s just… getting used to sobriety that’s throwing me for a loop,” David admits. He watches Jack’s eyes shift from his face to the empty bottle in his hand, and David shakes his head. “I know what you’re thinking-- I never had an alcohol problem, it was just the drugs. I, uh, don’t drink often, though. Just to make sure.”

David doesn’t drink often because David has an addictive personality. David doesn’t drink often because David knows he’s susceptible to alcoholism if he goes down the wrong path.

It makes him feel better to know that Jack is watching out for him in that way, though.

“If you’re sure,” Jack responds with a kind smile. The two of them fall into a comfortable silence. Jack finishes his beer, David watches him, and everything is… calm.

But not for long.

“Dave? Can I ask you a kind of weird question?”

“Shoot.”

“How’d ya know you were gay?”

David’s eyes widen a bit. He wasn’t expecting... that. He looks up, but Jack refuses to meet his eyes. He’s instead staring at the cabinet above the sink, sitting eerily still, and David isn’t sure how to respond for a few moments. Slowly, David shrugs, and looks down at his hands. “I just never really found an interest in women. Plus, I used to be really into this guy in one of my classes… I don’t know, it was just kind of natural for me. My parents were religious, but they never really said anything about it if I brought guys home for dinner, or if I wore makeup to school. I never really had that… epiphany, I just… I was just gay. Never questioned it,” He explains, holding his breath in the heavy silence that follows. He slowly glances back up toward Jack, expecting to see him staring off into space, but to his surprise Jack is staring right back at him. “Can I ask why you’re asking?”

Jack gulps. There’s a long moment of silence, before he sits up a little straighter. “Kath has been talking about 'self exploration' ever since yesterday. Mentioned she’s, uh… curious.”

“Mhm.”

Jack meets David’s eyes. He stares for a few moments before locking his lips, straightening his posture, and saying, “I think I might be, too.”

There’s a beat of silence. David holds his breath. Holds Jack’s gaze. He waits for a few moments, waiting for Jack to back down, but it never comes. Finally, David gives in.

He asks, breathless, “Wanna find out?”

There’s no more speaking after that.

#jack kelly #davey jacobs #david jacobs #javid #javey #tarrytown au #jac writes #newsies #newsies fic #newsies live #livesies

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between-two-fandoms · 4 years

Note

Can you please do angst #9 for Juke?

Nonny I love you so much for requesting angst! I love writing angsty things so, so much asdjfkspaejesf! I totally got carried away while writing this but uh... I hope you like it!

See pinned post for masterlist of ask prompts. Please specify which list your prompts come from and what characters you want.

Angst 9. “Did it mean anything to you?/ Did I mean anything to you?”

cw: character death (afterdeath?), mourning, moving on, crossing over

---

It’s been years since Julie had last seen her boys. They didn’t crossover, she knew that for a fact, but they tried to keep their distance after she graduated high school. She got into the music program at UCLA and she released her first solo album her freshman year of college, dedicating it to her family. She dedicated her second album to her boys, to her phantoms who were still haunting her long after she was supposed to have moved on. Julie was taking a break from unpacking in her new apartment, walking down her new block trying to familiarize herself with her new neighborhood in the heart of LA.

Then she saw him.

Luke.

He was just sitting on a park bench wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and that dumb orange beanie looking exactly like he did when she met him when she was sixteen years old. Julie scanned the crowd around them, keeping an eye out for Alex or Reggie, but it looked like he was alone. A sharp pain twisted in Julie’s heart and she knew the other two boys must’ve moved on already.

Shoving her hands into her (technically Reggie’s, she stole it when she moved out of her old house) leather jacket and shoved her way through the busy pedestrians to the bench where Luke was sitting, bouncing his knee anxiously as he watched the lifers move around one another. “Hi,” Julie said softly when she sat down next to him, not knowing what to expect. They’d both changed since the last time they actually saw each other. She was taller, more confident in herself... Despite being seventeen forever Luke looked older. His eyes were darker, he no longer held himself with the boyish charm she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. Luke smiled at her but it didn’t seem... real.

“Julie,” Luke said, reaching up to gently brush his thumb along her cheek. Julie mirrored him, using both of her hands to place them on either sides of his face. They didn’t say anything, they didn’t have to, the words Julie wanted to say I loved you, why did you leave me? were better off left unsaid. She could feel it in her stomach, something twisting in her chest that she felt twice earlier that week.

“I - Julie we can still touch,” Luke said, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. Julie nodded, refusing to let go of Luke even though he let go of her. Luke’s hands dropped to her waist, gently pulling her closer to him. It’s been years, god it’s been four years since Julie and the Phantoms disbanded.

“Luke I - did it mean anything to you? The music we made, the things we did? After I graduated my boys - you three just... disappeared,” Julie asked, unable to avoid the tears that were running down her face. Luke pulled her close, letting her fall apart with her face buried in his chest.

“Julie, did I mean anything to you?” Luke asked, his face pressed against the top of her hair. Julie nodded, feeling her hair scratch under his chin.

“Of course you did Luke, how could you think otherwise?” Julie asked, looking at him, rubbing her tears off her face with the back of her hand. “You brought me back to life. I never even got the chance to -” she cut herself off from saying to kiss you. Luke frowned slightly, his forehead wrinkling up as a result.

“We’re proud of you,” Luke said, filling the awkward silence that filled the air. “Reggie was really happy when you put Home Is Where My Horse Is on the album you dedicated to us.” Julie’s heart warmed at the knowledge that the bassist liked her arrangement of his song, of course she actually gave him credit for writing the original score unlike what Trevor did.

“He was?” Julie asked, emphasizing the past tense of the phrase. Luke nodded, his eyes full of an emotion Julie couldn’t quite place. Then, all of a sudden the realization dawned on her. “Oh...” Julie said, trailing off quietly, unsure of what she could say that would make Luke feel better. Luke held his hand in hers, running his thumb softly over her knuckles.

“It’s okay Jules we knew - we knew our time was up. They made me promise to see you before I went, to make sure you knew how we felt. Jules we never wanted to hurt you we just -” Luke said his tongue tripping over itself as he spoke only for Julie to cut him off by leaning forward and pressing her lips against his.

“Wow,” Julie whispered when she pulled away from him. Already he seemed to be fading away, flickering as he disappeared into a cloud of golden dust. “Luke I -” Julie started before Luke cut her off with another quick kiss.

“I know,” Luke said, looking Julie in the eyes. He tilted his head to the right, like he was trying to hear something Julie couldn’t then he grinned at her, pulling her in for one final hug. “Your mom’s saying she’s proud of you,” Luke said, running his hand through Julie’s hair like he used to do when she was upset about something. “We’re all proud of you Jules,” Luke promised, squeezing her hand as tight as he possibly could. Julie let her tears fall as Luke faded away, his unfinished business finally complete.

#julie and the phantoms #julie molina #jukebox #juke #fanfiction #luke patterson #angst #drabble #one shot #ren writes #lol look mom i killed off another character #are you proud of me yet #i just cant give these kids a break #alskmfmgmdmm

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faraway-in-headspace · 3 years

Photo

I?? I searched Chicken Choice Judy on google out of curiosity because it sounds oddly familiar like there’s a similar-sounding name and I found 4 websites selling the shirt design. But the descriptions on these pages are BUCK WILD??

Written version of the descriptions under the cut (very long).

[Begin ID

First image states: Long ago, when I had hair, I was an undergrad living in a house with nine other men. Near as I can tell, three of them (not sure which three) never bought food, just lived off what they stole from the Chicken Choice Judy shirt But I will love this other seven. We had several house meetings about it, but nothing changed. One day, I came in from grocery shopping. By coincidence, all 10 of us were in the kitchen. I started putting my stuff away. 1st thing I pulled out of the bag was my half-gallon of milk. I opened the carton, took a couple of drinks from the carton, then gargled some of it, and spit it back in. I opened my tub of margarine and licked the whole surface. By now, the room chatter had stopped because the other nine jaws had dropped open.) To your original question, those specific topics would take several years to build, as they depend on several layers of pre-requisites, which would require either that more advanced topics such as algebraic topology to be taught in elementary school, or that the buildup process happened blazingly fast during high school – both of which probably stretch the biological limits of what pre-teens and teenagers can reasonably be expected to accomplish. I spit on all my veggies, took the bread out of the package, and licked and spit on it, then carefully put it all back in the plastic bag. Remind teenage daughters to look through them before going on date with the boyfriend, in case they want to use one. I labeled it all and put it away. None of it was stolen. I never said a word, but I made it a point to repeat the performance anytime anyone was around to see it. Others began to emulate my approach and food theft stopped. Even I found it revolting, but it solved the problem. Works even better if you are sick or can at least make your thieving roommates think you are. While some cities are starting to reopen in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, people around the country are continuing to wear masks in public and practice social distancing. Vogue is committed to staying safe, and offering hopeful, optimistic content that highlights moments of camaraderie and exceptional acts of heroism from around the world. We are all looking for a little comfort too—be it a soothing Instagram account or a stylish creator on TikTok. It reminds us of the power of little things.

Second image states: A couple of guests informed me my office was too minimalist and that they expected more things to be hanging on my wall the Chicken Choice Judy shirt besides I will buy this next time they visited my wife’s and my home. I kinda hope they held their breath while they were waiting for our next invitation. They both went on to backstab me and my wife pretty bad a few years later. Another set of guests tried to squat. I had driven them all the way from Florida to Massachusetts under the impression that they had jobs and a place to live lined up. They offered no money for gas, hotels on the three-day trip, or compensation for the inconvenience and effort. He even tried to weasel out of the dinner he offered as a thank you by forgetting his wallet. The dude got me off the streets years ago and I wanted to pay him back in some way, but my wife and I were in no position to have extra residents in our home. We just don’t have the room or money. I made all of this VERY clear and told my old buddy that we could only house them for a couple of days max. There are MANY other details, but the disrespectful thing my former friend said was wordless. As I was kicking them out and they were angrily loading stuff into my car to bring them anywhere but here, my buddy left his gigantic knife right in the center of my wife’s desk. Like that was supposed to make us change our minds and let them stay? In the days of dial-up, I had a family call and not be able to get through because we were online. They decided to show up unannounced. They literally caught me in my underwear as they were let into the apartment before I could even react to being rudely surprised. Some of my family members have a history of abuse, violence, and stalking, something at least one of the visitors, my mother, was quite aware of since she lived through it with me. Her tagalong friend decided to put in her two cents and tell me I should get a call waiting or a second line because they were trying to call me. That did it! I suddenly forgot I was just wearing underwear and angrily asked my mother’s friend if she was paying my phone bill. My mother-in-law, stepfather and mom’s friend beat a hasty retreat and NEVER did the pop-in ever again.

Third image states: That was why when we did get to reality shows, Etro and then Dolce & Gabbana plus Jacquemus later in France, it was wonderful. Clothes are all about contact: As a wearer, you feel them on your skin, and as a watcher, you process them with your eye. The watching part can be done secondhand, but the Chicken Choice Judy shirt in contrast I will get this impact will always be second to the real thing. I read some commentators in the U.S. saying, “Too soon” or “Wear a damn mask!” which I always did, but these opinions while valid enough lack perspective. Milan and its surrounding region Lombardy went through what New York did but earlier. Through sagacious governmental management much more effective than that of the U.S., Italy has managed dramatically to flatten the curve across the rest of its territory. These shows just like the reopening of flights, stores, factories, and restaurants were symptomatic of recovery that, far from being taken for granted, is being tended to with vigilance and cherished with gratitude. The digital Fashion Weeks were better than no Fashion Weeks at all, but as an upgrade on the real thing? Nah. Like everyone, I missed the shows in the experiential sense this season. But for the first time since I began covering the collections several years ago, I didn’t miss a single brand or designer’s contribution to Paris Fashion Week. Which is to say, thanks to the Fédération’s online platform, I was able to watch every name on the haute couture and men’s calendars. This brand on-demand convenience not to mention being spared the logistical headaches of zigzagging across the city was pretty great. Also, everything was on time, from the films to the manner in which we filed our reviews. While efficiency can be satisfying, it’s not necessarily exciting. Ultimately, we had to accept that the focus this season wasn’t going to be the clothes but rather the brands conveying some combination of identity, process, and values. And in the absence of standardized criteria as in, showing a minimum number of looks, specifying a time range, it was interesting to observe how heterogeneous these experiments proved to be quasi–ad campaigns versus short films, conceptual or fantastical visions versus raw and documentary style. A proper kimono takes nearly an hour to put on – I’m sure most Japanese girls would much rather spend a few seconds and slip on a dress. Get survey responses from targeted consumers today.

Fourth image states: Around a decade ago, not long after he started his own label, Massimo Alba made a great mistake. A batch of shirts and T-shirts he was working on that had already been garment-dyed one color were mistakenly exposed to another. Speaking at his showroom presentation this weekend, Alba said: “It’s very interesting to me that so many good things start out as mistakes like this.” That accident was to Alba what the Chicken Choice Judy shirt moreover I will buy this mold-infected petri dish was to Alexander Fleming: a stumbled-upon eureka that led to a career-defining course of the investigation. This collection featured a series of softly tailored jackets, corduroy pants, and shorts, plus light cashmere sweaters that were hand-overdyed two, and sometimes three colors. It’s a process that led to variations in tone that included acid-trip floods of purple on purple to subtle bleeding of magenta across mustard yellow. Like most of Alba’s garments, these dyed pieces appeared at first glance conventionally prosaic. The more attention you gave them, however, the more their exceptional qualities became evident. Take a pale blue jacket, for instance, which at that first glance seemed passingly related to a surgeon’s scrubs. To the hand it was light and almost textureless in its softness: The fabric was a cotton mousseline developed for Alba by Albini. Long-sleeved, in a delicately mottled finish of washed-out sky blue, it made for an ideal mid-summer shake in pink, sleeveless, it was an impactful shirting second skin. Other interesting developments this season included a cotton pant named the Myles with acutely kinking stitched gather at knee-level on both legs and another handsome pant, baggy in white poplin, with patch pockets. A blue tropical weight jacket named the Lenny, after Bernstein, was Alba’s interpretation of a bohemian creative’s ideal piece of workwear. Collarless shirts in ripstop linen and button-up short-sleeves in terry were further finely effective coups de théâtre. Alba is a self-deprecating yet dangerous designer: Try just one carefully chosen piece and that’s it, you’re spoiled for good because nobody else quite compares. The museum in Prague where this portrait is held describes the ring on her first finger as the ring given to her at her wedding. It’s not comfortable. Maybe a lot of girls think that a see-through blouse can attract the attention of boys or they think that it will make her look much smarter. Meghan has no dress sense: no knowledge of fabrics, fit, styles that flatter, proper tailoring, Her father raised her in L.A. Enough said. Her idea of dressing for an event is “dress up” like a little girl dressing up as a princess. Shiny! Tight! Celebrity “fashion” not elegant, just flashy.

/end ID]

#infinity train #chicken choice judy #mine

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spencers-dria · 4 years

Text

Maybe, Just Maybe

Someone To Stay Ch. 5

Spencer x Fem reader

Content/Trigger warnings: a little bit of body image issues

Spencer POV:

It's been a few days since I hung out with Y/N. I'm truly glad she was the one I got to go with. I feel like we might have a lot in common, and she's easy to be around. For a little while, I almost forgot about everything that happened...about her. The next day the thoughts came sinking slowly back in, but they don't feel as debilitating as they used to. Maybe Derek was right, getting out, being around people, it may not be easy for me but it may be what's best. Maybe I should try to get out of my comfort zone a little. I want to get better, I do. But being social, well it's never been my strong suit, and to try to do it now, when I feel so emotionally vulnerable, it's particularly difficult.

Other than the dinner at Rossi's, my friends haven't been inviting me out as much as they used to. I'm pretty sure they got tired of the inevitable rejection. I want them to see that I'm trying, that I want to do better, to get better. Maybe if I reach out first...

I grab my phone to call JJ. She's like a sister to me, and she's been the best at trying to understand what I've been going through.

"Hey, Spence!" She sounds surprised but glad to hear from me.

"Hey, I was uhh.. well I was just wondering..." my words trail off as I find myself suddenly losing confidence in my endeavor.

"Yeah, what's up?" Her voice has a calming effect on me.

"Well...I was wondering if the team had any plans this weekend? To hang out or...I don't know."

"Actually we don't. But we should! I think I have an idea. There's something I've been wanting us all to do. There's a Lakehouse up for rent, and I think it would be fun if we all went up for a weekend. What do you think?"

I'm not very into outdoor activities, but the idea of reading on a porch by the lake sounds incredibly calming and therapeutic. It also sounds like a good time for me to start hanging out with the team again.

"You know, that actually sounds perfect." I smile at the thought of the much needed weekend getaway.

"Perfect! I'll text the group! Thanks for giving me the nudge to set this up, Spence. It'll be fun."

I hang up and shortly after I hear the familiar ding from the group message chat.

BAU Baddies😎

JJ💖: Hey guys! Who would be down for renting a Lakehouse this next weekend?

DM🍫⚡️: Hell yeah! @ahotchner you know what that means?? Jet Skis baby!! 😜🤙🏻

AB🌹: How fun! Count me in.

DR🇮🇹: I'll cook! I have a new recipe we can try out. I think you'll all love it👌🏻

PG🦄👸🏼: @jjereau @ablake We HAVE to go swimsuit shopping first, ladies! This is a non-negotiable.

AH: Sounds fun, are we bringing the kids this time?

JJ💖: Actually, Will is staying home and he'll be watching Henry. Jack can spend the weekend there, if you'd like. @ahotchner

AH: Thanks. I think I'll take you up on that offer.

DM🍫⚡️: @sreid you better be coming pretty boy, just bring a couple dozen books and you'll be set.

SR♟: Yep, already packing.

I smile to myself, thinking of how for once, I'm the reason we have plans. But if anyone else knew that, I'd never hear the end of it. I knew JJ was being intentional when she didn't mention that to the group. I hear another group chat alert and glance at my phone.

BAU Baddies😎

JJ💖: Hey, is it alright if I invite Y/N again?

AB🌹: Oh I thought that was a given! You definitely need to! She fits in with us so well.

PG🦄👸🏼: You better! Or I won't let you hear the end of it 😂

JJ💖: Great! Thanks you guys, it means a lot that you've been so welcoming to her.

Y/N will be there. Maybe I'll have a friend who will hang back and read with me. It would be nice to not be the only one. Then I remember what she said about moving here because she loves the outdoors. That means she'll probably be hanging out with Derek, JJ, and whoever else. Oh well. At least maybe I'll get to talk to her more. I decide to text her. I never really text anyone, but she doesn't know that.

Y/N

Hey, it's Spencer. I heard JJ

wanted to invite you to the lake.

Do you think you'll go?

Yeah! I just got off the phone

with her. I can't wait! Are you

going?

Surprisingly...yes. I'll be bringing

some books along to pass the time

but it'll be nice to have a change

of scenery.

Books??? We'll see about that😉

I love a good book as much as the

next bibliophile...but this is a

weekend for things you CANT

do at home. Anyways, would you

want to carpool? We can take turns

driving if one of us gets tired.

Passenger is in control of snacks

and music! 🎶🍿

Haha, ok deal. We'll work out

the details later. And...thanks :)

Anytime Spencer, can't wait! 👍🏻

I lean back into the couch and smile. Even if we spend the weekend doing different things, at least we'll get to talk on the way there. I feel like she could become a good friend, but I don't want to make any assumptions...I don't do this often.

Y/N POV:

You run around your room, packing for a trip that's days away. You're too excited, it can't wait. Just as you're trying to decide on a swimsuit you get a text from Penelope, saying that the girls are going swimsuit shopping this evening. They want you to come. You can't hide the smile growing on your face. How long has it been since you've been on a girls shopping trip? You can't even remember. It's spontaneous, so you assume no one will be too dressed up. You throw on a black sleeveless t shirt dress and some strappy sandals. Easy enough to get in and out of for trying on clothes. After brushing through your hair and applying some quick, light makeup, you're ready to go. The girls had decided to meet at the mall, for the most options.

You meet up with Aunt JJ, Penelope, and Alex outside of a nice department store.

"I figured we could start here. It has the most options and it's at the end of the mall. So we can work our way down, until we all find something."

Aunt JJ tends to take charge. She's such a mom, but that's part of what you love about her. Always prepared, caring for everyone. Alex found a cute one piece with a wrap to wear as a skirt. Penelope picked out a cute pink and purple polka-dotted swim dress. JJ ended up with a sports-bra fitting bikini top and some athletic looking swim shorts. Still such a typical mom. The only one left is you. You haven't tried on very many things, and what you did try on, never made it out of the dressing room.

"Y/N, why don't you let us pick you out some things to try on, and this time, you have to at least let us see. Deal?" Penelope gives you a look of encouragement.

"Sure" you shrug. "I'll try anything at this point."

Alex stays with you while JJ and Penny go to pick out some swimsuits for you. They return with a few handfuls of options. You try on the first option, picked out by Penny. It's a cute two piece, frilly and pink. You come out and are greeted with a few giggles.

"As cute as this is, I think it's more your style than mine, Penny" you let out a small laugh.

"Oh I know. I just wanted to see you in it! I couldn't pull it off in a thousand years!" She laughs.

"Alright alright, let's keep going." JJ ushers me back into the dressing room.

I come back out in a black two piece. It doesn't show too much skin to make me uncomfortable, but it's really flattering on my curves.

I hear a chorus of "ooooo" and one "yes queen!" that I'm sure came from Penny.

"Really, you guys? It's not too...ya know."

JJ shakes her head at me. "No definitely not. Girl, you're single, you're in your twenties, your body hasn't had a child yet. If you got it, flaunt it. If not now, then when?"

The girls all nod in agreement. You blush. You didn't know you could look this good in a swimsuit. You usually avoided bikinis. You found it hard to feel comfortable in your own skin. Whenever you tried to dress sexy, you just ended up feeling awkward and uncomfortable. It helps to have some friends to encourage you. You look at yourself in the mirror one last time. Okay, even you had to admit, you look hot.

The four of you end the day with lunch, chatting about your plans for the lake.

JJ turns to you. "Y/N, I almost forgot, do you need a ride down there? I can pick you up, if you'd like."

"Ohh uh, no actually. I'm carpooling with Spencer." I give her a shy smile. I know what this looks like. "We're just friends" I quickly interject.

"That's great" she says, giving me her warm smile. "Spence really needs a friend right now. And I bet you do too." There's understanding in her eyes. You're grateful that she didn't try to make more out of it. Aunt JJ knows you, though. She knows you make guy friends much more easily. That aside, you were still so grateful for the day with the girls. They were all so genuine, and easy to get along with. They didn't make you feel like an outsider intruding on their day.

Later that evening, you lay in bed as you try to quiet your mind. Your head is swimming with too many thoughts to fall asleep: anxieties about this weekend, but also excitement and ideas of what you'll do. Not to mention, more time to get to know Spencer better. You wonder what JJ meant when she said Spencer really needed a friend right now. Maybe, just maybe, you'd break through his walls a little more this weekend.

A/N: sorry this one is short-ish. It's kind of a transition chapter so there's not as much content! Building a base, building friendships, hang with me, we're getting there 😁💖✌🏻

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aprils-arcadia · 4 years

Text

By the River

Member: Shownu Genre: Fluff Word Count: 1,9k Summary: You watch the sunrise from your favorite place in your hometown, when you are suddenly interrupted by a handsome stranger.

She was sitting on the little concrete slope near the river. Once it was probably used to let boats into the water, but that had stopped even before she was born. Now it was just one of the nicest places to sit and think. With the river to her right and the embankment to her left she was surrounded by trees in this little nook.

She used to come here quite often when she still lived nearby with her parents but by now she had moved into the city and the visits to her parents were less frequent than she was comfortable with. Work had taken up way too much of her life and driving home with public transport had always been a hassle. So over time the visits got rarer and rarer, making her miss this place and her parents even more. No matter where she went she always treasured this little fleck of earth in the town she grew up in and spent so many happy years of her childhood. Whenever she came back a smile always adorned her face no matter if it was snowing, bright sunshine, or raining like it just had a second ago.

It had been a nice summer shower, washing away the dust and the dry heat. Unfortunately it was over before it even really began. Her clothes had already dried within the last few minutes but the remaining raindrops on the embankment still glistened in the now returned sun.

This wasn’t a famous tourist spot or a hotspot of the local youth, no this was her secret spot. The spot she spent so many hours as a kid, talking to her friends or just being alone with her thoughts. In this little niche beside the river she had her privacy. If she wanted to cry nobody would notice and if she laughed nobody would care.

It had been the right choice to take the week off, to get away from work and to spend her little vacation here, right where she would always belong. The week housesitting for her parents brought back so many memories, memories that were still ever present in the house itself, be it the old photobooks in her dad’s office or the big framed picture depicting all her family members, her uncles, her cousins and she herself: A young girl forced to wear a dress to look pretty but her hair the usual unkempt mess. She was sitting next to her mom and desperately tried to hide a patched-up finger behind her back but the white bandages still shone brightly next to her dark blue dress.

She stretched her arms into the air and a yawn escaped her mouth. It had been worth getting up at 5 a.m., seeing the sun rise over the horizon, colouring the sky in a bright orange was a sight that was worth every minute of lost sleep. She probably should go back to get ready for the day but not yet, instead she rolled her jacket into a little pillow and layed down on the hard concrete, the tiny stones hurting her back a little but not enough to make her want to leave. She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. The earthy smell of petrichor and the fresh scent of the river filled her lungs and she smiled to herself.

She truly loved this place.

The sound of the steady waves lapping on to the shore whenever a boat went past, the screeching of the lone seagull that had made its way down south and the rustling of the wind in the leaves around her lulled her into a comfortable nothingness.

Her reverie was interrupted by an unfamiliar smell and the sound of the dry grass being crunched under someone’s feet. Lazily she opened her eyes only to look up at a young man around her age.

"Oh I'm sorry. I didn't want to wake you.” He took a step back. “I'd better leave".

"No worries." She sat up and turned around to look at him properly. He was wearing a pair of black running shorts and a black sleeveless top. His hair was disheveled and still wet either from the rain or from the sweat that was also running down his arms making them shimmer in the morning sun. “I wasn't really sleeping and I should probably leave soon anyway."

"I didn't mean to drive you away. It's not like I own the place." He shrugged his shoulders and smiled shyly.

"True" she giggled. He looked kind and trusting. His eyes radiated a calm and warm aura that made her feel instantly comfortable around him. "Do you wanna sit down?"

"Yeah, if you wouldn't mind." He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair, so that it no longer stuck to his forehead but now lay in strands.

She scooted over and gestured at him to sit down. "Not at all. There’s plenty of room for the both of us."

He sat down next to her, adjusting a bit so that their shoulders would be far enough apart.

"I'm sorry that this is gonna sound like one of those cheesy pick up lines but do you come here often?" A sweet laugh left her mouth, as warm as the summer sun. "Cheesy doesn't necessarily mean bad, I mean that one's a classic.”

"No,” He corrected quickly “I just meant that I've never seen you around here."

"I used to live here when I was younger,” She brushed off the sand from her calves and unfolded her little jacket pillow. “Now I'm just housesitting. What about you?" She looked into his eyes as if it was the most natural thing, somehow awkwardness never crossed her mind.

"I've discovered this place on one of my morning runs.” He leaned forward to tighten the knot on his bright blue sneakers. "And now I always stop by here each morning when I'm done."

"Commendable"

"If you say so.” He smiled at her, his face losing all its rough features instantly. “I just really like this place.” His gaze wandered over to the water that was slowly receding only to be pushed back onto the shore. "It's nice to just sit, watch the waves and just be for a second."

"I agree.” she said. “Nobody really bothers you, well normally at least." She scrunched up her nose and they both laughed.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” he apologized, still smiling brightly.

“Soo…” she leaned back examining his broad back and shoulders trying to read the letters that were printed on his shirt. “Sho-”

“-Shownu.” he finished.

“So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Shownu? I mean there isn't really anything here.” Her hometown had always been a place for old people, sure they had an elementary school but that was about it. The local businesses were slowly moving to the city and apart from one big company, a few bakers and supermarkets it was pretty much just a residential area. No nightlife, on the contrary even, this neck of the woods still clung to their night and sunday rest rules so tightly that loud music after 10 p.m. could easily be answered by the old lady two houses over calling the police on you. The cinema in the nearest town had gone bankrupt and you had to drive half an hour by bus to even get to a decent clothing store. It was no wonder that everyone moved to the city when they finally got the chance.

"Well, I got seconded here a few months back. I work over there.” He pointed to the big building visible on the horizon on the other side of the river. “I found a nice flat on this side so I just took it. The ferry isn’t that bad of a commute”

“I loved to ride the ferry as a kid.” She said enthusiastically, remembering all the times she went over to the other side to go to the beach or to walk around with her friends and their dogs.

“Well it gets old rather quickly I can tell you. But the water and the fresh air is a nice wake up on an early morning.” He leaned back steading himself on his hands.

“And how do you like it here so far?” she asked, playing around with the little blade of grass she had plucked to her right.

“To be honest, in the beginning it was quite the change. I grew up in a big city and was always so used to the bustle on the streets and the huge amount of people. This is the complete opposite. I mean I once went a day without seeing another human soul on the streets. It had quite the apocalyptic vibe.” He laughed.

“It probably just meant that the local football team was playing.” She shrugged. Those had been the best days, when almost everyone was out and no one roamed the streets anymore. As a child she used those days to play badminton in the streets with her brother or go for a walk without ever meeting anyone. It was a nice change of pace each time.

“That makes sense. Anyway it’s actually really nice to live here.”

“Why is that? I mean I know my reason but I’d like to hear yours.” The blade of grass in her hand was now a tiny ball of knots. She put it down beside her and gave it a little flick, watching it roll down the concrete and into the water.

“I think it’s quite idyllic. When I lived in the city everything seemed so cold, distant and impersonal. In comparison this place feels unbelievably warm. This is probably gonna sound stupid but it feels loved”

She didn’t answer. Instead she just looked at his profile, at the kindness in his eyes and let his words slowly sink in. This place feels loved. To hear someone else say this made her incredibly happy.

“Sorry that was a bit weird.” he said sitting back up, looking at her.

“No, not at all.” She let her head sink between her knees looking out onto the shoreline and the line of grasses which gently swayed in the wind.

“I’m really telling you everything here, huh” he chuckled a little shyly and rubbed the back of his head.

“Sure seemed that way.” she smiled.

“Must be this place, makes it way too easy to open up to a complete stranger. Well now you owe me one. What brought you back here?”

“Since we are already on the sappy side of things I can just hop onto the train.” She took a deep breath and sighed “I miss this place. It makes life seem so simple and easy. I can forget about work and the stress of the city when I come here.” She smiled, more to herself that to anybody and her eyes were clouded with nostalgia. “In the end it’s home, simple as that.”

Without warning a loud ringing tone interrupted their conversation. “Oh sh*t.” Shownu got up, quickly turning off the alarm on his phone. “I’m sorry to just leave like this.”

“Nah it’s fine. Wouldn’t want you to be late for work. I better get going as well.” She got up and wrapped her jacket around her hips.

“Hope to see you again soon” he said and sprinted off.

Me too, she thought. Maybe just now she found another reason to come back here more often.

#mx #monstax #fanfiction #monstax fanfiction #shownu #son hyun-woo #shownu fluff #shownu x reader #aprils fanfiction #aprils arcadia

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katcadecascade · 5 years

Text

On Lucky Stars

Fair Game Week 2020: Soulmates

Ao3

Summary:

When Clover receives his Soulmate Words, he’s heard all of the stories.

These Words marring his skin represent the best qualities of his soulmate, little insight to their personality or way of life or just a hint of what their bond can be.

"You better wish on your lucky stars that you're right."

Chapter One: will your mouth read this truth

When Clover receives his Soulmate Words, he’s heard all of the stories.

From the gentle tones of his mother to his friends’ excited flurry in the academy, Words just mysteriously appears on people’s skin. They represent more than just the moment you realize ‘hey this person is my soulmate!’

These Words marring his skin represent the best qualities of his soulmate, little insight to their personality or way of life or just a hint of what their bond can be.

You better wish on your lucky stars you’re right

Clover is absolutely thrilled when it first appeared on his arm.

He can’t wait to do so many puns with his soulmate.

But all of that joy and wonder has to be tamed because there is no time limit, no known clock that chimes when soulmates meet for the first time or for the nth time either.

He would know, his parents don’t have each other’s Words but they still love each other as such. His mom found her soulmate in an old crewmate, reunited after separate sea adventures from opposite ends of the world.

So Clover has patience, has a clear head full of hope when he first saw the maroon words appear on his left bicep.

“You got your Words! You got your Words!” Elm sang loudly as they exited the training field.

“No need to scream it to the world, the academy no less,” Clover laughed, rubbing the script tenderly. He barely just noticed it, too much in a daze after sparring with his team partner as they wait for graduation day.

In the meanwhile, he just wants to train and study with Elm even if she’s not the most scholarly person there is. When they were first paired together he instantly knew that Elm would become his best friend, simply because of her hugs.

They both shared this light atmosphere of positively and now that is all on her face as she marvels at the newly etched Words.

Elm is bouncing on her feet, “This is awesome! Oh I bet they’re going to swept you off your feet, Cloves.”

He took another minute admiring the Words, “From the sounds of it, I think we might end up in an argument. Still, nothing to worry about, I’m sure everything will be okay.”

“Ah yes, the words of wisdom from Clover Ebi,” a slow clap grabs the two cadet’s attention.

“Morning Robyn,” Clover waves at the top student.

Robyn Hill has to be the most unconventional valor Victorian of this year’s graduating class due to her massive sarcasm and sheer determination against the usual Atlas elitist. Honestly it’s a breath of fresh air to have her on the student board and get actual work done and not contribute to some elitist priorities on the dance budget.

“Look, look!” Elm waved using Clover’s left arm.

Clover sheepishly pulls his limb back as Robyn polity takes in the enthusiasm that’s being thrown at her, “Congratulates Fish Sticks.”

He laughs at the nickname, still new to him as supposed to anything luck related. The only reason Robyn bestowed this moniker on him is because she saw dozen photos of him winning the yearly fishing tournament.

Apparently that is much more nickname worthy than event with his semblance or not.

“Thanks Robyn, now all that’s left is to one day finding them.”

“Aren’t we all,” she shrugs, “but may I recommend something?”

“Sure.”

“Keep it on the down low,” Robyn taps his Words. It’s a friendly matter but her tone is serious, “You’ll get more than a headache if people press their luck.”

Clover and Elm blinked at each other, not even considering this.

It’s not taboo to hide Words and that was once a tradition in olden days and maybe still practiced around some old bluebloods too.

For Clover he grew up seeing the Words on his parents, learned how they didn’t say each other’s Words but that didn’t stop their own love. They kept it out in the open to remember their soulmates.

While his mom has found her soulmate, his dad still hasn’t found his other mate.

“Do you really think people would do that?” Elm asks and she taps her left foot, where her Words are found. It’s definitely an unexposed space since the academy requires her wear shoes unlike him whose wearing a standard sleeveless shirt.

Clover looks at his own Words, thinking deeply, “I’ve heard stories about that kind of stuff.”

“I’m not telling you this to scare you or make you doubt people,” Robyn said, crossing her arms. “You’re too trusting for that. I’m asking you to be smart, Clover.”

He nods, “You’re always doing what you think is right.”

A thin smile is pressed in her lips, “More like I’m protecting the truth.”

Clover remembers this moment, more often than out of every other moment of Robyn when she doesn’t show up at their graduation ceremony.

The rest of the academy is confused or furious or yelling how they’re right about Robyn’s character, how she’s just another Mantle kid worming their way into the upper crust. Despite all that noise, Robyn pursues her own path.

Protect the truth.

That’s admirable Clover believes as he ties a red bandana around his Words. Robyn’s advice proved its worth a few times in his officer days. A few people probed and tried to peek at it, either for curiosity or wanting to test fate.

He knew he was popular but he didn’t think people would go that far to claim him as their soulmate. Sure there were a few dates and serious relationships that just didn’t work out but the whole ‘saying his Words just to make him feel entitled to a liar’ was a huge blow to Clover’s love life.

It feels cheap and shitty and a mockery to his real soulmate. Whoever that person is, Clover wants to find them because he believes all the waiting will be worth it and they can have a life together. His soulmate is someone out there in the world, waiting or existing or doing whatever mundane thing they can do as monster attack villages.

You better wish on your lucky stars you’re right

What will he have to be desperately right about?

Elm tossed him a few ideas, some about debating if hot dogs are sandwiches. Harriet immediately demanded the conversation to end unless they want her to sock them into next week.

Becoming the Captain of the Ace Operatives certainly brought together a team Clover didn’t think he’d be leading.

He’s super happy to have Elm at his side. She’s reliable, stable and a joy and his best friend. Nothing would ever knock her down.

Then there’s Vine, reclusive but not shy. He just likes to speak when he feels it is the right time. Clover pairs him off with Elm immediately to see how they work together. Turns out, they get along rather well as they get closer.

Harriet is like fireworks, loud and big and fast to explode. Getting her to follow his orders was a bit of a challenge for the both of them. Either she gets impatient or he gets too passive for her liking. It takes months for them to settling into some stalemate and agree to keep things professional for the sake of the job.

Marrow is another breath of fresh air, boundless potential and skill and goodness. Clover is so happy to recruit him into the Ops before any other officer could displace the faunus to some job that would do nothing but damper Marrow’s career.

As for the Captain himself, things are going swell.

Clover is an all-around optimistic, hard-working, skillful student with a bonus of good luck. Sure with the name and the clover pin, that can be all what people see from him at a first glance. Impressions like those only make the guy strive for more, to prove that nothing about him is simple chalked up to luck.

The fruits of those labors end up being the trust of one General James Ironwood.

It happened after the Fall of Beacon

General Ironwood arrives to Atlas with a newly steeled and hardened determination in him, just a hair away from something that scares Clover.

He trusts his general, believe him on that but there is just something concerning to see how mere days after his arrival, Ironwood locks himself in his office. Only he or Specialist Schnee enters his office.

His worry overcomes any disciplines when he enters the office to see Ironwood slumped over paper work and a glass of whiskey.

“When’s the last time you checked in with Doctor Grey?”

A ragged noise exhales from the man, his usual towering stature completely gone as he curls over the desk and paperwork, “Too long. She knows I’m avoiding her.”

“With all due respect sure, that’s a death sentence.”

Another heavy sound, an echo of a sharp laugh as Iron unfolds himself, pressing his whole back to the chair, “I don’t suppose you’re here to report about yesterday’s Grimm raids.”

“I’m actually here to report about Hill.” Ironwood’s whole body tenses. “No, good news, I promise,” he waits for his general to beckon him over. Clover sets his scroll on the table, displaying the news feed, “She’s running for the council seat.”

It doesn’t change the stiffness in Ironwood, not the reaction Clover was hoping for.

Ironwood sighs, muttering to himself, “She’s better than Jacques at least.”

Without missing a beat, Clover notes, “Sir, everyone is better than him. Captain Grif would be better.”

A real laugh rumbles from the man. He passes a hand through the rough scruff growing at his jaw. Clover has no doubt that a full beard will be in their future if the general stays on this path.

Blue eyes watch the Captain closely as he fixes his posture, “I wouldn’t think you’d be the one to make crack jokes with your superiors, Ebi.”

“Only if I like them,” he nods, a slight smile brightening the mood.

That certainly pulls Ironwood out of whatever darkness is inside of his head, his eyes a little softer, “Thank you, I appreciate it.” With that his thinking face is back on, he’s been giving Clover this look often now and apparently now is the time. “Call your team here. I want to tell you all a story.”

Thus the Ace Ops, Winter, and Penny learn a terrifying story of a witch, a wizard, and four relics.

It is a lot to take in.

Winter is the one asking questions, as if prepared for this moment, “Who else knows this?”

“The other two headmasters and two of Ozpin’s companions,” Ironwood answered, “Glynda Goodwitch and Qrow Branwen.”

She spits, “That drunk?”

At the same time Clover blinks, “Of STRQ?”

Of course Clover knows about Vale’s top graduating team, they were amazing in their tournament debut. They were also a bit of a mystery as well since there has been less news about them in the coming years.

Not all huntsman teams have time for the limelight once they do mission after mission. It’s just that news from teams of other kingdoms don’t reach Solitas that much since its civilians prefer to debate about dust or politics.

But Clover remembers the highlight reel from STRQ’s battles, especially Qrow’s skill with that scythe. That man is a thing of beauty.

So it feels a little jarring to learn that his old celebrity crush is in the know of this secret war.

“Qrow is an experienced fighter and has done years of espionage for this very purpose,” Ironwood continues, “He’s the one who had the closet calls against Salem’s main forces and came out on top of it each and every time.”

Clover may be mistaken but it looks like the General is smiling.

“And these people are responsible for Beacon,” Penny said with her voice tense.

No one in this room has an idea on how to comfort the artificial warrior. She just learned her death was orchestrated by an unknown being with unthinkable powers.

He tries though, “Are you alright?”

The young girl blinks robotically, an accurate phrase but there are so much flickering emotions underneath her optics. She admits quietly, “I am not sure.”

Ironwood gains the room’s attention once more, “I know all of this shakes the foundation of our entire world history but I shared this you all because I trust you.” He gives everyone a meaningful look, “Now all I ask of you right now is to trust me on this plan I’m developing.”

Amity Tower project is certainly another thing to add to the long list of secrets.

Processing it all in one night is a major headache for Clover as he thinks of all of it. The satellite has an important purpose. It truly can reunite the world and its communication. On the other hand, Ironwood’s real intentions on revealing Salem are a big turning point.

Still, this is his General, Clover is loyal to him, trusts him with his life.

In the back of his head, a voice tells him to wish on his lucky stars that he’s right.

This small figment of doubt is uncomfortable but not unfamiliar.

Robyn embodied that feeling of seeking out truth not for the sake of doubt but for justice. She continues to do so as Clover, Elm, and Marrow are assigned to check up on her when Atlas elitist gets too prickly at her open speeches.

“Fish Sticks,” she greets, “you’re not here arrest me for eating one of your kind are you?”

They find the politician and her partner Fiona in the market district where one aisle is dedicated to grill stands and frying stalls.

Robyn continues munching on her fried fish on a sewer as Clover ignores Elm purchasing her own meat stick.

“We’re just here on patrol,” he answered, side glancing at his operative.

“Yep,” Elm nods and licks off the sauce stuck on her fingers.

“Sure you are,” Fiona rolls her eyes, bumping hips with Robyn as the taller woman casually wraps an arm around her, resting a hand on her hip.

This is not a new development but there’s something a tad sweeter in Robyn’s face as she pecks Fiona’s forehead.

Mindlessly, Clover wonders if he’ll get something like this with his soulmate.

“We just wanted to say hi to an old classmate,” he excused.

The Captain does another sweep of the area and near the entrance he spies the rookie operative in a subtle but heated conversation with one of Robyn’s huntresses.

Marrow has been volunteering for more patrols in Mantle ever since encountering May Marigold. Clover can only speculate what’s going on since Marrow once confided to his captain about having two sets of Words.

“Really?” Robyn held out her hand.

He rolls his eyes, “Really, Robyn.” Clover snapped his fingers, as if remembering at that moment, “Oh wait, I should probably tell you that someone did get arrested for throwing rocks at an airship.”

“I can’t possibly think of why someone would do that,” Fiona’s sighed dripped with sarcasm as her smile was sweet as wine.

“Speaking of airships, Captain,” Elm had her scroll out, titling the screen to Clover.

An emergency alert is sent to the Ace Ops, news about rouge hunters with no authorization or licenses for advance combat weapons. With their political climate Clover would assume it is one of the locals preaching about Robyn but this timed too well with the earlier notification of a stolen airship.

That is definitely a big issue since Atlas announced their embargo. Along with their knowledge of a certain Grimm witch it is better safe than sorry for the special operative team follows this up.

“Duty calls,” Clover salutes to the politician.

“Don’t go overboard Cloves,” she hollers back, only a hint of concern in her tone.

It’s nice to know she still cares for them, in her own little way but there’s nothing to worry about. This is the Ace Ops, they can handle anything, and nothing will catch them off guard.

So imagine their surprise when it is children, not at all dressed for the cold weather, wielding academy grade weaponry and a mystical looking lamp.

Once they’re all on the ground, the apprehended group in bolo cuffs, Clover slowly recognizes them.

Weiss Schnee is an obvious one but Yang Xiao Long’s solo battle at Vytal was the lead up to Penny’s dooming fight. It hurt to see these girls get manipulating into such tragic events, all of it rising to the fight for Beacon.

Speaking of that, the teammates of the late Pyrrha Nikkos has been once a hot gossip since the three of them were mostly unknowns or armatures to the world of professional grade swordsmanship.

There’s another boy with them, smaller than the rest and instead of any extravagant weapon he wields a cane.

Clover has heard the name of Ruby Rose in Penny’s reports from months ago and honestly it was adorable to hear her gush about this red hooded girl as her very first friend. An additional report went in depth for rest of team RWBY, leading to Clover’s knowledge of Blake Belladonna outside of her family of Menagerie’s power.

Somewhere it slips the Captain’s mind to remember the connection between Rose and Xiao Long and their uncle, Qrow Branwen.

What he does want to push out of his mind is the fact that Qrow is currently belly down with his arms cuffed behind and Clover shouldn’t be thinking at how attractive he is when he’s staring straight up at Clover from down there.

Yep, that’s not professional at all.

This is not at all the meeting Clover had in mind when presented with the possibility of meeting Huntsman Branwen. He’d imagine something a little classier in the academy or even dramatic where had to fight side by side in the nick of danger or something simple like accidently bumping into each other in a coffee shop.

Any of those scenarios lack the tension that comes from arresting someone.

The huntsman in question defiantly raises his head up, his red eyes glinting beautifully, “Hey pal, I’m a licensed huntsman. We just helped have everyone?”

If this wasn’t Solitas Clover would agree with him out loud but that doesn’t change how the rules work here. Between protocols and the political tensions, law and order is barely constraining the rising chaos that Clover and the General has been working on.

Mantle just needs to hold out a little longer as construction continues on the Amity Project.

Qrow’s concern for the kids are justified, a few even trembling in their cuffs as they’re herded into a transport.

“This is all a misunderstanding,” the huntsman gets to his feet and Clover has a closer look on the legend.

He looks so tired from everything Clover’s heard about his experience as a spy. That and it also could be jetlagged. None of that exhaustion affects how handsome the man is, his scruffy hair looks so soft.

Recalling the other illegal alert, Clover bluffs, “I take it a stolen airship is also a misunderstanding?”

Qrow takes the bait, guilty in his silence and scowl. His eyes dart over to the kids Vine is leading away.

“Huh, if that’s that,” Clover continues, places a hand at the small of Qrow’s back and is about to escort him too until he practically growls at Clover’s face.

“If you stupid arrest hurts my kids in any way, I swear-“

“They’ll be okay,” he squeezes Qrow’s shoulder, needing to assure him, “I see that they’re young and I promise nothing cruel would be placed on their heads.”

He doesn’t like the idea of arresting good intentioned civilians, children no less but that’s has been a pattern in Mantle. Robyn has putting a lot of her efforts in helping the youth get off the streets but in her recent reports there hasn’t been enough resources sent to Mantle to cover all her bases.

Qrow backs away from him, like nothing the Atlesian says will matter or is the truth. The look of fear and protective anger sent Clover’s way really gets him defensive. He wants to prove to Qrow that everything Clover is saying is worth trusting.

All of those thoughts are on the tip of his tongue until Qrow turns his back on Clover and calls out, “You better wish on your lucky stars you’re right.”

He walks into the transport without another care, doesn’t look back at Clover who is standing shell shocked as the rest of the world turns.

“Captain?” Someone calls but he’s too stuck in his own head with only one voice in mind.

You better wish on your lucky stars you’re right

Too many dreams are passing through his head, faceless and touchless needs of a person who could spend a minute or forever in Clover’s arms. It was only an idea, a concept, a possibility of ever hearing those Words and feeling this heavy feeling tugging at his heart and Clover can do nothing against this tsunami of joy and energy swirling through his skin.

All of his hopes and wishes in the physical embodiment of one Qrow Branwen.

Clover found him.

A harsh punch lands on his shoulder, waking Clover from his stupor as he yells, “Oh shit! Shit, oh my god, shit!”

“What is going on?” Vine questions carefully.

“He lost his marbles,” Harriet said in almost a song tone, touched with a dash of horror.

Elm, the one who punched him, punches him again, “Clover, what happened?”

“Elm,” he shakes her shoulders, “It happened!”

She lights up instantly, “No way, it happened, Clover it happened you found him!”

The three operatives stare at their captain and teammate busy rattling each other’s bones.

“Wait, you found your soulmate,” Marrow said and points at the departing prison transport, “the one you just arrested?”

Clover pauses, “Oh no.”

“Oh yes you did,” Harriet chuckled. It progressed into full blown laughter as Clover groans.

“I arrested my soulmate, shit.”

“Very smooth of you sir,” Marrow sticks out his tongue. He barely supports Harriet, still dying of laughter, who keeps leaning onto him.

Vine assures him with the most logical assurance, “Captain, he and the children did commit a crime. You did your job and that was arresting your soulmate.”

“I didn’t know he was my soulmate,” Clover massages his forehead, reliving the past few minutes. Then again, if he didn’t arrest Qrow then he wouldn’t have been prompted to be angry and defensive at Clover. That’s an upside that Clover can be okay with. “I have to make it up to him.”

It’s a little too late now as the streets have cleared and the Ace Ops’ own transport is ready for departure. Thankfully Marrow informed the officers to take Qrow’s group to the headmaster so now all the ops can do is sit in their airship.

“Yes but what if this happens again?” Vine asked as their ship took to the air.

“What do you mean?” Elm countered. She’s been doing that more often, confronting nearly everything Vine says. Something happened between them after their last two person mission a few weeks ago.

Harriet finally has air back in her lungs to remind them, “You heard the Ice Queen’s beef with the guy. He causes trouble everywhere he goes. Who knows, our dear captain may have to arrest him again.”

“And not for the bedroom,” Marrow unnecessarily adds.

“Do you want to repeat that again, Operative Amin?” Clover asks in his commanding officer voice.

“No sir.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Okay, all kinky jokes aside Clover is determined to not screw this up. He’ll have to make it up to him, Clover promises. He gets that chance a little earlier than expected when Ironwood messages him to meet with him after properly apologizing to Teams RWBY and JNPR.

As one of their hosts, Clover had walked the Vale students to the official school side of the academy before Penny took the reins with gusto.

Back tracking to the lobby before the headmaster’s office, Clover walks in to see the General hugging Qrow.

Despite of the scenario of seeing someone intimately holding his soulmate, Clover’s not jealousy or envious, not one bit.

He trusts James Ironwood more than just a general or a headmaster. In the years as his Ace Captain, Ironwood slowly warmed up to having the fisherman and his optimistic nature around the office.

Hell, it took a while for Clover to accept the General giving him permission to use his first name. Calling his boss James is just a whole other side of the coin, it really made Clover see pass the white coat and metal to see how human James is.

Still that doesn’t help that Clover, caught off guard at the sheer sight that is James’ vulnerability, accidentally calls out, “General?”

James slowly pulls away from the other man. A fleeting emotion leaves his eyes as he stands straighter, a hand on Qrow’s shoulder, “Good timing Clover.”

“It is?” blinked Qrow.

Clover darts his eyes from his soulmate to his friend, not too sure about their history. He knows they worked together in the field for Ozpin so that must guarantee a solid foundation between them, something importance that Clover will probably never comprehend.

Again there is no major jealousy (maybe a smidge?) in Clover, just mere curiosity. He grew up knowing people can fall in love with someone other than their soulmate, as he mom explained.

While soul bonds are strong, actual years and experience of knowing a person can be just as incredible.

Clover wants to learn more about Qrow, he may now have his soulmate in his life but Clover still has to find him, like in a getting to know him kind of way.

“You asked for me, sir?”

The general nods and introduces, “Qrow, this is Clover Ebi, Captain of the Ace Operatives.”

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Qrow replies with his gravelly voice, “He arrested me.” Clover, reasonably, gulps as Qrow crocks a teasing eyebrow at the general, “Under your orders, Jimmy.”

“Right,” Clover needs to desperately fix this before he becomes too awkward, “I am so sorry about that.”

“Qrow,” James demands but not in his usual harsh tone, “how was I supposed to know it was you that committed a serious felony on my own military?”

“Jimmy, I do that all the time.”

James pinches the bridge of his nose, a characteristic that means he’s really annoyed, “Yes, I realized as I said it out loud.”

Clover struggles not to smile at this. It’s very cute to watch how teasing Qrow is and can get under James’ armor so easily.

This is the Qrow Branwen that wowed a young Clover, this charismatic and dry wit and cheeky smile that fits into this person who just so happens to be a fierce fighter and a loving mentor to eight kids.

Clover can’t wait to get to know his soulmate.

That dazzling smile is aimed at Clover, disarming every little thing from him as Qrow smirks, “See this is the problem with following orders.” He jabs a playful thumb at James, currently rolling his eyes, “Sometimes they aren’t the best or right thing to do.”

“I trust the general with my life,” he said, “but I see your perspective.”

It’s not just Qrow, Robyn used to constantly make jabs at him for staying in the military. Only after a real talk with her about their political opinions did they admit that they missed simply hanging out like when they were just teenagers.

“Whew!” The huntsman sighs dramatically, “For a second, I thought you’d be another Ice Queen.”

“I assure you I’m not as frosty as she.”

“You sure?” He eyes immediately go to Clover’s arms and for a hot second, he thinks Qrow can see pass the red bandana. “I could have sworn I caught you shivering back in Mantle.”

You better wish on your lucky stars you’re right

It’s right there on the muscles Clover has worked out for years not to impress people, know that, but because he just likes to stay in shape. But with the way Qrow is appreciating Clover’s assets, well, he’ll admit he has selfish needs.

Too many thoughts are demanding Clover’s focus, like flirting or bantering with Qrow or to simply rip off the bandana and scream out, ‘hey they’re soulmate!’

Instead he nearly chokes on his own spit, very lucky of him.

James saves him the effort of picking up his tongue, “As pleasant as it is to see you two getting along, it’s late. Besides, you both have plenty of time to get to know each other.”

That is exactly what Clover wants, a bit suspicious if James is reading his mind, he prompts, “Sir?”

“I’m assigning you both as partners for future missions.”

“Really?” They both asked in different tones.

Clover suppresses the urge to bounce up and down in front of his soulmate and general. That would be a little overboard.

Nonetheless he grins at Qrow, “In that case, I look forward to being your partner.”

And your soulmate, his heart screams.

Qrow hesitantly turns to James, “Are you sure about this?”

There’s a strong sense of caution radiating from him, no wait, there’s a flash of misery too. Clover can’t understand why.

“Absolutely.”

A defeated type of acceptance sighs out of Qrow, he halfheartedly shrugs, “Alright, I guess we’re partners.”

Clover has never been so happy. Well he would be even more so but the confused frown on his soulmate is really bothering Clover.

Is he doing something wrong?

Or is Qrow still mad about the whole arrest?

What if after everything Clover longed for, wished for, waited for, Clover isn’t enough to deserve his soulmate?

When people see Clover, they don’t believe a high ranking military office succumbs to insecurities. It just gets so exhausting to be believed to be absolutely perfect when Clover knows he’s far from that.

He played the game of life and people think he’s too lucky or cheating and no amount of battle experience or pains or nightmares will add into his favor. Now he found his soulmate and Clover wants nothing but to just say it out loud but the fear of what if lingers in his head.

It’s not that Clover is scared of revealing they’re soulmates, it’s just that he doesn’t want to mess this up or scare Qrow off. Or maybe Clover is also scared too. He doesn’t quite know how to describe it yet.

This is all too new and too fast to process in one night, especially with the embarrassment of arresting Qrow and then suddenly having him as a mission partner.

The days leading up to their first field mission are still not enough time for Clover to mentally prepare himself.

They all meet at the airship docks for departure where all of the kids are vibrating with a new energy.

Everything they’re doing is new, a mission with an expert team and they get the chance to try out new equipment in the field. Clover remembers that excitement, that endless surge of adrenaline combined with nervous jitters.

After years of experience, Clover has a better handle on his composure as a trained soldier, ready for surprises and such.

Then he sees Qrow in his new outfit and Clover almost walks into Marrow.

The grinning operative takes one look at Clover’s blushing face asks, “Do you think you can handle being in ship alone with him, Captain?”

“Yes I can. Also Marrow, one last thing,” he gives the rookie a stern look, “if you make one more comment, there will be a lot of paper work in your future.”

“You wound me sir.”

“Get to your Manta, Operative.”

“Yes Captain.”

Right as Marrow walks off, Clover’s soulmate approaches, “Man, I can’t remember the last time I was in a Manta,” he shrugs, “like legally.”

That is mildly concerning but also kind of hot. Combine that with how the wind brushes Qrow’s hair and most of the weariness is slept off, Qrow walks with a new confidence.

Qrow narrows his eyes at him, “What are you staring at?”

“Appreciating the view,” he winked.

Oh gods why can’t Clover just be chill for one second, please.

The mission starts as well as it can be, a little tense or wary for the Grimm target as they travel down the abandoned mines.

Clover makes small talk with Qrow, probing for some lore of the great team STRQ. James never implied if the other three teammates were in Ozpin’s circle and Qrow doesn’t mention anything either. Instead he trails off about his isolation, a feat that must be heavy after growing up with such a close team that equaled to a family status.

It’s with a heavy heart as Clover imagines how his soulmate must have felt all of these years. It sounded lonely but Qrow eventually ended up with eight kids so that kind of shift in his life is a big one. Add in the fact that they’re soulmates and Qrow’s life will literally be a rollercoaster.

Clover only hopes that it’ll be a good change in Qrow’s perspective, he has to make sure of it. But first let’s see how they handle this mission together.

The Geist is found in their path, wrenching the small area to the point where Clover would’ve been crushed unless Qrow didn’t yell at him to stop.

“Thanks for the callout,” he said, kicking some rubble down the hole their target escaped through, “That could’ve been bad.”

“I wouldn’t thank me.” There’s a haunting in his deep voice, laced with resentment and shame, “My semblance brings misfortune. I can’t control it.”

He had that same troubled and miserable face Clover once wore years ago, back when he couldn’t figure out his semblance. It became an identity Clover didn’t want, moniker glued to his forehead because that is what people wanted from him.

Elm was one of the first people who didn’t give a damn about luck. She was blunt in the nicest way possible while and trained with him to make sure he knew that luck didn’t equal his worth.

“That so?” Clover took reference to the advice Elm once gave him, “Well hey, don’t beat yourself up about it.” With a cast of his hook, he threw a supporting beam down to create a new tunnel way.

Qrow is watching him carefully and for that Clover does his best smile, “My semblance is good fortune.” Because Clover is a weak man, he winks, “Lucky you, huh?”

The huntsman just stares, unblinking. Not the reaction Clover was expecting.

A beep from team Charlie forces Clover to walk ahead, missing the utter chaos inside of Qrow.

Meanwhile in his own head, Clover admits that maybe his phrasing could’ve been better. After all, bad luck has a different result than good luck.

Whatever Qrow’s upbringing is, something of a twisted light compared to Clover’s, is the reason there is a weight of self-accountability is on his shoulders.

That’s not good, soulmate or not, no one should blame their selves for each disaster or accident.

Clover notices how much distance Qrow is putting between them, a glazed look in his red eyes.

“Is there a reason you’re so far away from me?”

Qrow snaps out of his thoughts, almost like a flinch and that sight makes Clover’s heart ache.

“I uh, I just don’t want my semblance to…” He trails off, his mind a million miles away, “To interfere with the mission.”

“I highly doubt that,” he assures immediately.

“It already has,” Qrow seethes, grinding his teeth, “you almost got hurt.”

It hits Clover like a bullet. While he has his own fears and self-consciousness Qrow has his own dark clouds. Misfortune and bad luck must have been his identity, either self-proclaimed or given by others.

From the way self-loathing just waves off of Qrow, Clover decides to forget the pressures or expectations of them being soulmates.

Qrow feels alone in this and he needs to know that he’s not, he has eight kids and now he needs to know that he has Clover.

He can confess about them being soulmates another time when they both have a better headspace. Pushing Qrow too early in their partnership is probably not a good idea. They still need to get familiar with each other first.

An alert pulls them out of the tense air, the target is attacking.

The duo makes it to the heart of the dust mine where teams Charlie and Bravo are as the Ace Ops are engaging in battle. It’s little chaotic than usual as dust shards are being flung around.

Clover catches a stray one, “What will you do without me?”

In a totally professional manner, Clover tosses the dust to Qrow and dives off their platform with a salute.

Yeah he’s showing off, can he be blamed?

Everything goes smoothly as Harriet sucker punches the Geist. It gets even better when he sees Ruby out speed the speedster to catch the last dust shard. Now that is impressive.

“Lucky catch,” Qrow nods at him, his cape fluttering from the drop.

“No, I chalk that up to talent.”

He’s so used to hearing people dismiss his or his team’s success to luck that Clover almost automatically corrects them. Yet with Qrow, he knows it’s just banter, that it is not a real criticism or devaluation.

It’s just Clover and Qrow and their shared association with luck.

Clover has never felt so relaxed when joking about it.

The luck puns and such were just a habit Clover picked up, do the joke before someone meaner or ignorant says it first.

As sad as that sounds, Clover had Elm to cheer him back up. And look at her now, lifting Ruby on her shoulders like she used to do to Clover.

Well no, she still does that to this day, saying that he only weights like grapes.

It’s a compliment really, people like grapes.

(Don’t say the thing about dogs not liking grapes, only Marrow’s allowed to say that)

With a mission accomplished, they all excite the mine, striding confidently to the afternoon sun.

Speaking of sunniness, the knight, Jaune Arc has wide eyed and gushing over the Ace Ops. It’s like another Marrow is here. As everyone kind of walks in their own group, Clover heads to the General.

In the corner of his eyes, he notices that Jaune had dragged Marrow to a reclusive spot considering the site is beginning to be swarmed by military officers. He has half the mind to be concerned for the operative but his tail is wagging way too much to display any unease.

Clover marches over to the General and the head engineer of the Amity Project.

“Are you sure the limited resources won’t be an issue?” Ironwood presses. He’s been less paranoid and more worried since deciding to split supply resources between Mantle and the world saving project.

Whatever the Vale kids said to the General really changed his tune. Clover didn’t vocally approve of the plans neglecting Mantel, believing in James’ resolve about putting everything into the satellite, but now he feels pretty relieved.

Robyn and the rest of the civilians would be happy about their barriers finally getting reinforced.

“Si,” nodded Head Engineer Lopez, his tone can be labeled as robotic but right now it is bored as he checks a scroll of his supplies.

James opens his mouth to double check but shuts it promptly when Lopez tilts his brown helmet in a disapproving and annoyed manner.

The general bristle at that, standing a little straighter, “Good, I’ll leave everything to you and Doctor Grey.”

The engineer salutes and marches off.

Approaching, Clover stands with his hands folded behind his back, “Everything is a success sir, Lopez and Grey have the sharpest minds.”

“Agreed,” General Ironwood this eyes trailed up to stare at the to-be satellite. It’s only muted hope in him, more nerves than actual belief, never a good look on the exhausted man.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

He raises a brow at that, “Go ahead.”

“You’d put Grey on the project to avoid her, didn’t you.”

A twitch under that bread of his is the only indication that the general smiled. “Am I that obvious?”

“Using work as an excuse or distraction is a preferred tactic of yours.”

“I wasn’t aware you took notice of that, Captain.”

“I served you for years,” Clover nodded his head in Qrow’s direction, “I’m willing to bet he’s going to figure that out in a matter of days.”

Fondness softens the tension in James’ shoulders, “He already has by now.” His shoulders sink a little lower, “How is he?”

“Based off first impressions and one mission?” Clover mulls over a summery, “Qrow has been through a lot, either alone or taking responsibility over the others.” Darken eyes and bad luck flashes through his head. “I think partnering with him will be good for the both of us.”

Newfound alertness makes the general stiffen, “That so?”

Caught in that personal implication, Clover swallows up his nerves, “Just a thought, sir, the Ace Ops are an odd number.”

James eyes him carefully, “I did give you permission to speak freely Clover.”

True, Clover set himself up in this, and now to actually say it out loud, “I think we have things in common, more than I realized.”

For all the lucky comments and nicknames, it cuts a little deeper when people learned his parents aren’t soulmates and by that extension, people assumed that Clover is lucky to be born under such pretenses.

It’s an outdated and hypocritical way of thinking.

Not all soulmates get together, in the coming years it is less of a tradition to wait for a soulmate to find love and start a family. Yet that didn’t stop those people from talking and judging.

It certainly didn’t help that his father’s blueblood family disapproved of him marrying a Mantle girl who’s never said his Words.

Gods it was so awkward to meet his cousins in the academy. Clover’s so happy that Elm and Robyn were with him.

A cold hand is on his shoulder, it’s a gentle weight and temperature eases the old memories out of Clover’s head. It’s rare for James to show physical affection, especially outside of his office.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he takes a breath, “just got lost for a bit.” Once the hand is off of him, Clover stands back into attention, subtly asking for a change in subject, “Is there anything else sir?”

James gives him a slight frown before returning to his generalness. He reports about a series of murders, active supporters of Robyn Hill. The people are reasonably in dismay and are not happy that only now is the military starting to help them, right when the damage has already been dealt.

No one likes the news of this and Clover almost wants to disagree with the General when he calls over Jaune and Ruby to tell them as well.

They’re so young, he proclaims, they haven’t even gotten their license and that’s planned for later in the day.

It’s a bit of a shame that Clover couldn’t attend the small graduation, already sent to Mantle with orders to speak with Robyn. Harriet joins him because she doesn’t want to deal with cake fueled graduates.

The Happy Huntress’ home base isn’t really a base. It’s a night club whose owner happens to be a friend.

Blood Gulch isn’t the most popular club but it must get by if the old building is still standing. Dark walls and metallic structure gives off old military base vibes, likely the intention to mock Atlas as there a bright neon name sign is plastered on top.

They knock at the door and a busty, dark skinned woman with curly yellow hair huffs at them like they’re the health inspector, “You’re cops right? You gotta tell me if you are! That’s like a law or something!”

“We are literally wearing our uniforms,” Harriet states dully.

“Yeah and I think you’d both be hotter if you took it off,” she winks.

From inside the club, someone shouts out, “Bow chicka bow wow!”

“Tucker?” Clover splutters while Harriet hisses the name, “Tucker!”

“Okay Kai, just let them in,” Robyn’s sigh is heard.

Kai rolls her eyes but complies. Not wanting to get between cops and hunters (she’d prefer that situation in the bedroom, she winks), the owner tends to her bar.

The interior of the club is themed in typical sleek black bar tops and a large dance floor with electronic panels. It’s not often Clover goes to a club in their off hours as regular lights are on and not the usual raving colors.

Over at a table in the corner are the Happy Huntresses and an Atlas captain assigned to training cadets and lieutenants.

“Hey Ebi,” Tucker waves, his greeting hand accidentally showing off his cards, and shoots a wink at Harriet, “Hello Bree.”

“Speak to me again and your kid will be missing a father.”

“You would do that to poor innocent Junior?” Fiona gasp, a mouth covering her mouth.

Leaning on the wall, May shrugs, “Eh, I think the kid would be just fine.”

“Hey!” The father whines.

“Enough,” Robyn calls, setting down her cards. She glares at Clover, “If you’re the barer of bad news then you’re too late.”

The two operative glanced at Tucker, shuffling his cards. “Another murder,” his tone serious and stern for once, “I used to take Junior sightseeing in town. I can’t do that anymore.”

“So imagine how the rest of us feel,” May snaps, her eyes dart to Clover, “We’re safe from the Grimm but that’s not enough isn’t it?”

“The General has initiated more supply carriers and maintenance upgrades,” Harriet reported, “It’ll just need some time to get it all done.”

“And we will do everything in our power to catch the person responsible for all of these deaths,” finished Clover.

Robyn stands up, her hands flat on the table but everything in her posture screams anger, “Why now? Why did it take so many deaths to finally change things?”

Frowning, the Ace Captain can’t think of a way to respond to that. Maybe no real answer can justify the damage done. “I’m sorry it took this long to get Mantle the help it needs but things will change now.”

“And what makes you so sure?” The politician demands, “Ironwood may have a sudden change of heart but what does that make you? You defended him with he didn’t help Mantle before.” His former classmate regards him with a look a betrayal, “You just followed your orders, didn’t you.”

Harriet buts in curtly, “Hey we’re not some mindless drones.”

“Wanna bet?” Joanna smirked, her tall stature grandeur compared to the speedster even if she’s sitting down.

“Yeah, I wanna bet,” Harriet laughs hotly.

He quickly grabs his operative’s shoulder and warns, “Don’t.”

She huffs quietly, a tad ruefully as she takes a step back.

Returning his attention to Robyn, Clover says, “You have your reasons to distrust the General and I have my own to do the opposite.” Qrow’s snarky comments echo as he quotes, “But yes, sometimes his orders aren’t the best or right thing to do.”

That makes everyone in the room stare at him with wide eyes. At the bar, Kai fumbles with a glass she was whipping.

“Whoa,” Tucker awed and blinked owlishly, “Did you get laid by a rebel?”

“Is everything about sex with you?” Harriet complains.

“I’m a one trick pony and I won’t mind people riding me.”

“By the Brothers why are you even here?”

“It’s Uno night,” he gestured to the color cards, “Wash is away and so is my impulse control.”

It’s true. Captain Tucker is better behaved when Agent Washington is around. He and Agent Carolina are the only ones capable of getting their Reds and Blues in line.

“Yeah, I’m with Tucker,” Robyn agrees. She walks over to personally inspect Clover, her arms crossed and her eyes sharp, “Something’s different about you, Fish Sticks.”

Feeling a bit apprehensive of all the staring, Clover shrugged awkwardly, “It can’t be so hard to think I can think of my own and disagree with the General.”

So maybe it took listening to Qrow to even dare doubt James, Clover will admit that but that’s how conversation works. People can change other people.

“Wait,” Harriet’s voice was strained with dread, “You didn’t actually bone Branwen this fast right?”

“Harriet!” His voice nearly shrilled.

“Oh my gods you did.”

“I absolutely did not! We just met and we literally came from a mission.”

“You mean you haven’t had sex during a mission?” Tucker provoked with a smirk.

Robyn nods, “We all have done that at least once.”

The other huntresses nodded. From the behind the bar, the establishment’s owner asks to be invited.

“So,” Robyn begins teasingly, “Who is this Branwen?”

He absolutely has to be careful with his words, beginning with, “One of the Vale hunters who’ve come to help.”

“Didn’t we close our boarders?” May points out.

Not liking the calculating look from Robyn, Clover complies, “This was an exception.” He doesn’t elaborate on that no matter how hard she stares him down.

While her hands and semblance is a weapon, Robyn’s eyes are just as deadly. It was only after graduation did Clover find himself hurt by them.

“We’ll just have to wait and see, now won’t we Captain?”

That’s the best response he can get, better than the heated arguments the two would find their selves in when they were younger and dumber and pained to be against each other.

Time didn’t exactly heal their wounds, just gave them space to know that despite their conflicting views, they still look out for each other. Either though game nights like these or warning the other about it being kids pranking the supply trunks, don’t go after them or the route of robotic knights are taking is not passing this building known for hiding people breaking curfew.

He and Robyn used to train together, practice their individual styles. Now Clover dreads the day he’d given the orders to detain Robyn and her Huntresses.

Would he be able to do that?

Clover already unknowingly arrested his soulmate, how much more will he mess up the people he wants to be close to?

No he shouldn’t fall into those thoughts, they never did him any favors before and it won’t now.

It’s best to keep moving forward.

#fair game #fairgameweek2020 #fair game week #qrow branwen #clover ebi #my fic #rwby #rwby fic

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amyscascadingtabs · 5 years

Text

i’ll walk through hell with you

chapter 7. i’m gonna stand by you

read on ao3 here and read other chapter here!

the happy ending.

BONUS: i created fake social media posts for this! they’re here, look at them after or have them open in another window! you’ll get when it’s time - there are two instagram posts and a text conversation with rosa.

and when you decide, it’s your time to arrive

i’ve loved you for all of my life.

~ halsey, more

december.

Once Amy starts trusting that she is pregnant and the obsessive test-taking comes to an end, there’s the question of when to start telling people. There’s also the question of what to tell them.

“It just feels like I’m faking it,” she complains from the couch as she tries to write down ideas in her notebook. “It’s happy news, but it feels wrong to not even mention what we went through before getting here.”

“So tell people about it?” Jake shrugs, handing her the McFlurry she sent him out at ten p.m. to buy. “That's always an option.”

“I know, but how? How do I say hey, please be happy for us, but know that we went through hell to get here, without being overly dramatic or too personal?” She takes a spoon of the soft-serve, chewing on the mini smarties, and tries to stifle a moan when it feels like fireworks of pleasure are exploding in her mouth. “Oh my god, I love you.”

“Me or the ice cream? Never mind, shouldn't ask.”

“It's so good.”

“Can I try some?”

“You should have gotten your own.”

“You would have eaten that too,” he grins, taking his spot at one end of the couch and stretching his legs. “But I'm proud of you. McDonalds is at least an unhealthy craving. Grapes was just lame. You have the chance to eat whatever you want and blame it on pregnancy cravings, and you want grapes.”

She sticks out her tongue. “Screw you. Anyway - thoughts on a pregnancy reveal?”

“We make our own Die Hard-style short film with explosions and animations, the end slate says something like Peraltiago Baby number two, coming in June. Super badass.”

“Nope. We write everyone cards?”

“Lame and time-consuming. We have an announcement at work and one each with our families?”

“Maybe, but I still don’t know what to say.”

“We tell Leah and trust her to spread the news for us?”

“We definitely should tell her first, but counting on her to spread the news means they’re going to get twisted in some way. Remember when we went on vacation and she told all her teachers we were moving to Mexico?” Amy shakes her head. “It’s better if we say it ourselves. I don’t think I’m ready yet, though.”

“Okay,” Jake nods. “Let’s wait, then. Are you sure I can’t have any of that ice cream?”

“Not unless you want your hand chopped off.”

“Wow.”

Amy wishes they could hold off on telling people until she was sure she felt ready, but reality is quick to get in the way. The first-trimester nausea finally gets better around week thirteen, and suddenly the weight gain is a fact. She doesn’t mind it too much - she’s growing a human, all that matters is that they’re healthy - but it does make it increasingly difficult to hide. A size bigger uniform for work is easily solved and conceals the tiny bump rather well, but regular clothes are not as efficient. Her bras don't fit, her regular jeans won’t button, even the most flowy of shirts in her wardrobe seem to cling to the slightly rounded shape her stomach is taking. She’s running out of time.

With two days left until they're leaving to celebrate Christmas with the Santiagos, Amy realizes she has to give up. She's tried every possible outfit, considered whether she can just wear pajamas for the duration of the event, and very reluctantly accepted that it’s a bad idea. She's out of options. Both of her red dresses are too tight, she doesn't have any bras that work with anything sleeveless, and even the tasteful floral wrap dress she was hoping for manages to frame her bump in an obvious way. She tries on several blouses with a generous skirt, but it's still notable to the trained eye and her mom had eight kids. Amy’s screwed.

“This doesn't work,” she groans as she pulls off the blouse, throwing it on the growing no-pile. “I look stupid.”

“You look adorable,” Jake insists from his watching position on the bed. “I’d say go with the wrap dress.”

“It’s nice, but it shows off this.” She points demonstratively to her stomach, watching his eyes turn soft as he follows her hand. “This baby’s not hiding. I think we have to tell people.”

“Do you feel okay with that?”

She considers it for a moment. “I guess? I still don’t know what to say about the infertility stuff, but… I’ll figure that out.”

“It’s not like you have to make an official announcement, right? You could tell people privately, whenever you’re ready - if you want to.”

“That’s true. Maybe... it’s okay if we just enjoy these news?” She shrugs. “We are having another baby. That’s awesome. Seems fair for the world to know.”

Jake meets her tentative smile with a wide, goofy grin. “True that. So, how do we tell everyone? We’re not seeing the squad again until after Christmas.”

“We could take a cute picture with Leah and post it on social media? I know it’s cheesy, and a little impersonal, but it’s efficient and I can’t be bothered to plan an announcement.”

“I could totally work that Die Hard short film out -”

“No Die Hard.”

Jake grimaces. “Fine, fine. Your way, then. So, cute picture of Leah in a big sister-shirt?”

“Yeah, and she could be holding the latest sonogram pictures? And some short, sweet caption with that. We’ll think of something until tomorrow - that, and another thing.”

“What?”

“We have to tell her.”

Amy is, of course, overly prepared. She’s bought the pedagogical children’s books. She’s researched and taken notes on all the recommendations for how to manage the conversation and explain the matter in a way her three-year-old will understand. She’s made sure Leah’s not too tired, too hungry, or too grumpy for any other reason. Still, she’s never felt less prepared for a conversation with her kid, and she’s anxious as they take a break from playing with her toy dinosaurs - who either seem to run a bakery or catch criminals, or if it’s both, Amy can’t tell - to drink some water and subtly reveal the life-changing news.

Jake must pick up on her nervosity, because he’s the one to start the conversation.

“So, bumblebee,” he ruffles his daughter’s hair and laughs as she immediately pats it down again, “We’ve got something to tell you. A surprise, I guess.”

Leah shines up at the word surprise. “What?”

“Do you remember how miss Edwards at your daycare had a baby?” Amy tries to lead her on to the topic. “And her belly grew and got really big, and then she wasn’t at work for a while because she was at home taking care of the baby?”

Leah scrunches her forehead and pouts her lip in focus, but she nods.

“And you know how your cousin Maisie has a little brother, and Sarah and Samuel are getting a baby sibling soon?”

Another nod.

“Okay. Well, baby,” she says slowly, but her heart is beating fast. “You’re also getting a sibling.”

Leah looks around, as if the sibling in question would be hiding in her room somewhere.

“Oh, no, not today,” Amy adds, and the girl frowns.

“When?”

“This summer,” Jake fills in, “when it gets warm outside and you don’t have to wear a jacket anymore.”

“But where’s the baby now?”

“Right now the baby’s in here.” Amy pokes at the tiny bump, and Leah tilts her head as she tries to piece it all together. “It’s small, but it will grow, and then you can talk to it or feel it kick in there, if you want.”

“And when the baby comes out and grow bigger, they’re going to think you’re the coolest person ever and want to play with you all the time,” says Jake, catching Leah in his arms and tickling her neck so she giggles. “You two will have so much fun.”

“Like Anna and Elsa?”

“Well, we don’t know if it’s a sister or brother yet, but yeah. Like Anna and Elsa.”

“Okay!” Leah’s expression turns serious. “But I’m Elsa.”

Amy laughs. “Of course, baby, you can be Elsa.”

Leah accepts this, and insists they keep playing the dinosaur game which remains incomprehensible to everyone but her.

“I think that went pretty well,” Jake mumbles to Amy, and she nods, relieved.

“Dada?” Leah looks up from the dinosaurs.

“Yes, bee?”

“How did the baby get into mama’s tummy?”

Amy has never seen her husband look so uncomfortable before. His face goes from normal to beetroot in a matter of seconds as his eyes go wide, and she’s trying not to explode with laughter as she looks from Jake’s mortified expression to Leah’s curious eyes.

“We’ll read a book about that later,” Amy assures her daughter while Jake mumbles something about a very important call from the Captain as he looks at his blank phone screen and hurries out of the room. “I promise.”

Leah doesn’t seem particularly interested in changing from her Frozen-shirt or taking pictures with the sonogram print-outs she claims looks like a fish, mama, but then Jake promises her ice cream for dessert if she does and it’s a done deal. She tires after thirty seconds and she refuses to hold the pictures in any other way than in front of her face, but they get the shot and it’s good enough. It has to be, because only a minute later, their three-year-old has thrown off the sweatshirt and changed back into her t-shirt.

Amy types up the caption, presses share, and puts her phone in front of them on the kitchen table.

“Now we wait for Charles to call and yell at us for keeping this from him,” she states, and Jake snorts. “I’m betting four minutes.”

“I’m going to go with three.”

It takes one and a half.

It’s a great Christmas.

Sure, everyone is asking the same questions and she explains over and over that she’s feeling okay, better now that she’s in her second trimester, she doesn’t have any intuition as to what they’re having but Jake’s claiming it’s a boy, they’re excited, and they’re pretty sure Leah is, too. She clenches her fists underneath the table when her mom mentions how wonderful it is with a big family, how lovely it is that Amy and Jake finally decided to expand theirs, and she can see Jake do the same as he gets ready to defend her - their - honor, but she shakes her head and changes the topic before he has a chance.

She doesn’t want to be upset today.

There’s no point to being angry with her family all around. Not when Julian high-fives her and tells her good for her she keeps reproducing with those Peralta genes, not when Christian gives them actual useful tips on how to adjust from one to two kids. There’s no point in being upset when her brothers wives all tell her she can borrow maternity wear if she wants, or when Jake makes note of the mistletoe above their heads and kisses her so long and reverent that both Tony and Simon start wolf-whistling. There’s no point to being sad when Leah pulls at the edge of Amy’s dress, asking to go up, up, and Luis takes a picture of Amy and Jake kissing their daughter’s cheeks under the mistletoe.

She’s just happy.

She feels quick little flutters in her stomach throughout the day, a feeling she vaguely recognizes from the first times she felt Leah move inside her. They’re gone before she has the chance to lay a hand there, but she feels them.

Leah insists on sleeping in her parent’s shared bed that night, and even though it’s barely a queen-size and they’re all forced to huddle together with the three-year-old somehow taking up the most space, they give in. Jake and Leah both fall asleep in what seems like seconds, and Amy wants to join them, but her brain refuses. It’s not that she’s feeling anxious - her heart is so full from today, made fuller by her daughter’s face pressing into her shoulder and Jake’s hand reaching across her so he can rest it on the little bump - but there are some things she can’t stop thinking about.

Her mom’s comment about them finally deciding to expand their family, for example. All the congratulatory wishes streaming in after the picture - even Holt messaged them to give his well-wishes - that she can't fully take to heart, because no one sending them knows what she's gone through. She thinks of the shame and disappointment she’s felt throughout this year, of how much it would have hurt her to see a sweet announcement like this from someone else when she’d just had a miscarriage or another negative test. She wants to be honest - not just for her own sake, but also for the sake of a possible acquaintance out there who could be going through the same thing, feeling equally as alone in it as she did.

Amy grabs her phone from the nightstand, smiling at the mistletoe picture she's made her background, and tries out a few captions in the Notes app before settling on one.

She turns off the comments before anyone can react, not feeling like she needs anyone’s thoughts on this, and she's about to put her phone away again when she sees a single text from Rosa.

Proud of you.

Amy smiles.

She's just about to fall asleep when she feels the brief flutters again. This time, they don’t disappear right away, but repeat until she's certain of what they are.

She can't feel them from the outside yet, but she rests her hand below Jake's anyway, letting the reason behind the flutters know she's there.

“Hey there,” she whispers, lightly tapping her fingers against her abdomen. “Merry Christmas to you too, baby.”

The next little movement is right below her fingertips, and this time she can't stop herself from tearing up with joy.

february.

Everyone’s convinced Jake and Amy are having a boy. Jake claims he can feel it, and Amy believes him. She’s a Santiago, and two girls in a row are more or less unheard of in her family. Charles claims he can tell because of the position of her uterus, which grosses everyone out, but a vote is a vote. Rosa’s saying boy, as is Terry, as is Gina, as are all of Amy’s brothers and her parents. Karen Peralta invites them for dinner and talks for at least twenty minutes about how excited she is to have a grandson before Jake dutifully reminds her they don’t know the sex yet, and she waves it away and says she thought it was obvious.

The only person who doesn’t believe they’re having a boy is Leah. From the first time anyone asks, the three-year-old declares with absolute certainty that she’s having a sister, and doesn’t change her mind. Amy’s nervous about how they’ll manage the inevitable disappointment and tries to write down a pedagogical conversation plan in her head as they go for the anatomy scan, but she ends up never having to use it. It turns out Leah’s correct.

“So you’re going to be just like Anna and Elsa,” Jake tells her as he’s putting her to bed that evening. Amy’s secretly listening in on their conversation through the baby monitor - modern technology is the best. “How does that make you feel?”

She can see Leah holding up her hand on the little screen, doing what she thinks must be a thumbs up. Then her tone turns serious again.

“Dada, how did the baby get inside the tummy?”

“Uhm, didn’t you and mama read that book about it?”

“Tell it again,” Leah insists.

“Okay, okay. Cool, cool, cool. This is cool, Jake, you can handle this,” Amy hears her husband mumble to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing, bee, here we go. So, sometimes, when two people who are adults and love each other a lot, they decide they want to try and make a baby. So they take a part - cells, you remember? From both of them, and those, well, stick together? I guess. And sometimes that becomes a little baby that grows inside a mom’s tummy until it’s big and ready to come out.”

It’s pretty much an accurate description. Amy’s proud of him, but Leah doesn’t seem satisfied.

“But how do they take it?”

“You’ll learn about that when you’re older, bumblebee.”

“Like algebra?”

“Who told you about algebra?”

“Grandpa Holt.”

“That tracks. Ehrm, sure. Like… algebra.” Amy can see him grimace from a distance on the screen. “We’ll go with that. Anyway - all you need to know is that everytime it works, it’s a miracle. You were our first miracle.”

“Miracle,” Leah repeats, yawning. “Dada, can you sing now?”

Amy hears Jake take a deep breath of relief before he begins to sing the Tangled soundtrack.

“I’ll give it to you,” she tells him when he slinks into their bedroom ten minutes later, red in the face when she points to the baby monitor and he realizes she's been listening. “That was impressive.”

“You owe me big time,” he groans, slumping down on the mattress next to her, and she chuckles and kisses his forehead.

“Algebra, huh? Could you replace my X without asking Y?”

“If you had used that pick-up line on me, I literally never would have slept with you.”

april.

Leah's feelings about becoming a big sister are fluctuating to say the least. Some days, she'll ask how the baby is doing and press her hands to the ever growing bump, laughing when she's able to feel a kick. Some days she doesn't want to talk about it at all, and they make sure not to force it on her. Some days - and those days are the ones that break Amy's heart - she's angry, shutting Amy out and wanting only Jake to take care of her because she's not sure how to handle the fact that her mom looks different and is tired and can't pick her up like she used to. It's after one of those days Amy has her first breakdown about feeling like she's not enough for two kids, that she was stupid to think she ever could be, and maybe this was a bad idea. She cries under a blanket as Jake puts Leah to bed because Amy wasn't allowed to, and there's a series of soft kicks like her baby’s trying to comfort her, but it only serves to make her more out of breath. Her eyes are all puffy and red when the door to Leah's bedroom opens and the girl peeks out, giving her a cautious look before tiptoeing out to the couch, climbing into her mother's arms and burying her face in her chest.

“I don't want to be a big sister,” Leah confesses in a quiet voice. “I want to be little, too.”

“You're always going to be my little baby,” Amy promises her in full honesty then, hugging the girl as close as she can. “Forever.”

Other days, it's easier. They try to keep her involved as much as she wants to, letting her choose what outfit they’re bringing in the hospital bag and asking her opinion on where she thinks the crib should be. The girl definitely has an interesting taste in baby fashion and Amy ends up vetoing the suggestion that her little sister should go home from the hospital in a baby Santa suit, but as long as Leah feels she's been part of the decision-making, it’s good. One night, they go through photo albums of what she looked like when she was a baby, making the three-year-old proudly exclaim that she was so cute.

“You really were,” Jake agrees, catching her in his arms and tickling her. “You think your baby sibling will be as cute as you were?”

Leah just shakes her head at that, making them all laugh.

“Well, she sure is confident,” says Jake when he returns from putting her to bed, finding Amy still looking through the albums. “Crazy to think she used to be that tiny.”

“Even crazier to think we'll have another one that little, and one day they’ll be a three-year-old, too.” She lightly strokes the top of her bump, feeling a sharp kick way too close to her ribs.

“So many levels of crazy.” Jake shakes his head in bewilderment. “I wonder when you get used to the thought.”

“Never?” Amy shrugs. “Sometimes I still think this is a dream.” There’s another strong kick at that, making her flinch. “Oof. Fine, very real dream.”

It takes her a while to fall asleep that night, with her thoughts and a wildly moving baby helping to keep her awake for longer than she’d prefer. She thinks of how they’re nearing a year since they started fertility treatments, when she fought through the needles and bloating and hormonal chaos because she was praying for something to finally work, and she wonders what her reaction would have been if someone had told her about what she’d go through in the next months.

The events of their struggle to have another baby and her eventual spontaneous pregnancy feel entirely separate in her head, two roads not intersecting. She’s still bitter over their struggle, still wishing she could have saved her energy and frustration, still trying to forget it more days than not. The infinite gratitude she feels over the fact that they are having another child hasn’t erased those memories. It’s mitigated the pain, made the flashbacks much less frequent and helped her towards acceptance, but Amy knows part of her will always remember.

In an odd sense, she’s happy about it. It reminds her it was never a guarantee.

may.

The cat plans have been put on pause indefinitely, but it doesn’t keep Jake from bringing the topic up. One day, he’s coming home with onesies that have patterns with cats on them or a stuffed animal that looks like one, one day he’s leaving web pages with sources for why it’s good for kids to grow up with cats open on her computer, and another day, he’s coming with new name suggestions from what seems to be out of nowhere.

“So for baby names, I was originally thinking Benjamin, but since that’s no longer on the table, I’m down to Meredith and Olivia.”

“That’s a weird combination of names,” Amy huffs. Jake looks the other way, tapping his feet against the floor and whistling in a way that’s probably supposed to come off innocent, but only succeeds in making his behaviour look more conspicuous. “They’re a reference to something, aren’t they?”

“Why would you say that?” Jake snorts. “That’s crazy!” His laugh is overly loud, and she shoots him a warning glare that shuts him up in a second. She’s nearly nine months pregnant now, so her don’t fuck with me-looks are pretty scary at this point.

“Tell me what they are, Jake. I know they’re not Die Hard-characters, and they’re not from Harry Potter or Ninja Turtles, so I’m going to make an assumption and say they’ve got some kind of relation to Taylor Swift.”

“Well, that depends on how you define relation -”

“Jake.”

“Fine, they’re her cats. But they’re nice names!” He wags his index finger in front of her, a childish grin on his face. “They work for humans!”

“Let the cat thing go, babe.”

“Nuh-uh, never.” He leans down, putting his face as close as possible to her bump. “Hey, kick once if you want us to get a cat ASAP.”

It takes a couple of seconds, and Amy almost thinks she’s won, but then Jake puts his hand on her shirt and instantly there’s a kick aimed against it.

“Traitor,” she mutters to the child still trying to play football with her ribs. “I’m the one growing you, you’re supposed to side with me.”

The cat conversation might be able to wait - Jake reluctantly accepts that a three-year-old, a newborn and a kitten would be a little much to take on at one time - but the name conversation’s more urgent. They’re having a baby in a month, maybe less, and even though Amy thinks it feels like forever as she waddles around with swollen ankles, unable to see her feet anymore, she knows it’s not. They need to make a decision.

“This is hopeless,” Jake groans as they look at their handwritten lists one night. They've each written down ten names, then switched with each other and crossed over ones they disliked, leaving them with exactly zero names. “How did we even decide on Leah’s name?”

“Technically, we decided on Leo as in Leonardo like Ninja Turtles, the painter and the actor, and then we found out we were having a girl and Leo became Leah.”

“I know why, I just don't know how. You said no to all of these!” He points at a scratched-out name on the list. “What's wrong with Luna?”

“Sounds too much like Leah.”

“And Abigail?”

“Too different.”

“Meredith?”

“You’ve got to let go of the obsession with Taylor Swift’s cats, man.” Amy massages her temples. “And too Grey’s Anatomy.”

“Fine. What about Olivia, then? Come on,” he says when he sees her pressing her lips together, “no one will know that’s where it’s from. It’s a cute, normal, human name. It’ll work with both our surnames and it goes well with Leah without sounding exactly like it.”

“I don’t know…”

“If we use Liv for a nickname, they’ll be Lee and Liv, which both sounds kinda badass and kinda adorable.” Jake tilts his head to the side, giving her the puppy eyes she swears were passed down straight to their first-born daughter.

He doesn’t entirely convince her, because she doesn’t want to give in to her principle about no Taylor Swift-related names, but she doesn’t hate the sound of Leah and Olivia. Really, the more she thinks about it, the more natural it sounds. She’s not giving him that satisfaction, though, so she tries to hide the smile on her face as she takes his list and writes down OLIVIA below the scratched-out names.

“This doesn’t mean I’m agreeing,” she warns him when his face lights up in excitement. “It just means I’m considering it.”

“Oh no, you’re definitely agreeing. Just like you will with the cat,” he grins, proud of himself, and she lets him have it for about three seconds before she whacks him in the shoulder.

(One evening - almost a year later - when they’re about to move into a bigger house with a garden, and their youngest daughter has started taking her first unsteady steps, Amy does agree to the cat. It’s a moment of weakness, she argues, but she never truly ends up regretting it.)

june.

Since Leah was born a timely two weeks before her due date, Amy’s hoping for the same thing to happen again. Everything is ready as can be for the arrival of their next family member, and they're just waiting, going day out and day in hoping today will be the day, but nothing’s happening. Leah asks every morning when she wakes up if today’s the baby’s birthday, and she gets equally disappointed each time they tell her they don't know yet. She also keeps asking about when she'll get to have her sleepover at uncle Charles’, which seems more of interest to her than the actual event of becoming a big sister, and she gets more and more upset for every day they have to tell her not tonight.

Amy enters her fortieth week of pregnancy, which is the most pregnant she's ever been, and time seems to move impossibly slower. She's swollen, achy, and tired, ready for this to be over and labor to start, but their baby seems to be enjoying herself in there, because the due date comes and goes without a single contraction. No more painful Braxton-Hicks than regular, no water leakage, no nothing. When the clock passes midnight on June 23rd and Amy’s officially past her due date, she’s getting seriously frustrated.

“This baby has to get out,” she complains as Jake rubs her feet that evening. Sometimes she’s pretty sure he’s an actual angel, but also, it’s what she deserves right now. “Starting tomorrow, I'm trying all of the tricks.”

“Or you wait a few days longer? You know she’ll be born eventually.”

“Nope. I need her out of me,” she says, feeling in the exact same moment how the kid’s trying to stretch out from her curled-up position, pushing her feet to Amy’s ribs and her head somewhere seriously uncomfortable, and Amy curses in pain. “Come on, kiddo. You’re clearly uncomfortable too. Don’t wait it out.”

She gets another kick in the ribs for that.

A quick Google search informs her there are many at-home methods available to try and kickstart labor, so she starts with the least terrible ones and works her way up. Sex isn’t bad, but it’s also sweaty and impractical and has no effect whatsoever. Walking is boring and makes her feet swell up like crazy. Jake suggests they go to her favorite bookshop in New York so she can walk around there and have an awesome story to tell if labor were to start in Strand’s Bookstore, but the only thing that happens is people give her sympathetic looks and she nearly cries when a book she wants to look at is on one of the lower shelves. The spicy Chipotle takeout they bring home just gives her heartburn. Pineapple makes her tongue hurt. The raspberry leaf tea tastes like chewing on grass. She saves the castor oil for last, wanting to avoid the distasteful liquid at all costs, but even that has little to no effect and Amy’s furious. On top of it all, Jake can’t stop laughing at her as she waddles around their apartment all grumpy and uncomfortable, and his laughter makes her even angrier.

(Leah just says Amy looks like a couch. That isn’t much better of a self-confidence boost, but it does, at least, make her laugh.)

When Amy’s three days past her due date with no changes, Leah decides she can’t take the anticipation anymore and throws a full-on tantrum. It takes them nearly ten minutes to figure out that the three-year-old’s not crying because she wants the baby to come out, but because the sleepover she’s going to have when her parents are at the hospital is never happening. They try to comfort her with promises of Disney movies and ice cream at home instead, but it doesn’t work, so they give up and call Charles to see if she can stay there an extra night. Charles also cries, because unfortunately, Nikolaj has gotten a stomach bug making them unsuitable for babysitting. After a moment’s consideration and consultation with their still-sobbing daughter, they call Rosa instead, and Rosa’s confused but accepts the request.

“And you're sure you know how to take care of kids for a whole night?” Jake asks when their friend stops by to pick up Leah, who is hyped to hang out with her aunt Rosa for an evening, and drags her into her room to show all her dinosaur toys the moment she steps inside the apartment.

“I assume there's instructions,” Rosa nods to the thick babysitting binder Amy's holding. “And I’ve taken care of my nieces. I’m pretty sure I can keep her alive for a while.”

“Solid. She eats pasta and she's supposed to go bed at seven, but that usually never works, so don't get too stressed about it.”

“Great.”

“Brush her teeth before she goes to sleep and don't let her backflip off the bed,” Amy adds. “There’s lots of information in the binder and we’re a phone call away if there's any issues.”

“Send us pictures if Jocelyn braids her hair!”

“Send us pictures anyway. Please update us.”

“Got it,” says Rosa and lifts up Leah on her shoulders, making the girl scream with laughter. “Pictures, pasta, no backflips. We’ll be fine. You guys enjoy your last night alone in forever,” she grins, pointing to Amy’s baby bump. “Text me if you go into labor.”

“I wish,” Amy groans, and then they’re the overly emotional parents who kiss and hug their oldest daughter goodbye until she begs them to stop.

Rosa leaves with Leah, and the apartment turns the peaceful but unnatural kind of calm they rarely experience at daytime anymore. She guesses it will be but a memory once their second baby finally arrives, but for now, she turns to Jake and asks,

“Wanna have a date night?”

And so they do.

Their last night on their own before life with two kids is gentle and undramatic - a shared bath, a takeout dinner in front of a Harry Potter movie they’ve seen a hundred times before, cuddling and chatting on the couch before going to bed at midnight with hope of a night’s undisturbed sleep.

Nine years they’ve done this, she thinks as he kisses her, and then the bump for good measure, goodnight. Nine, crazy, ever-changing years that have turned their lives upside down more times than she can count, and every day, she wakes up grateful that it’s him she gets to do this with.

It takes her upwards an hour to fall asleep. First she has to pee, then she can’t find a comfortable position, then her back is hurting and Jake has to get her heating pad. When she finally sinks into a dreamless unconsciousness, Amy’s so tired it feels like she could sleep for days.

She sleeps for an hour.

It feels like it’s only been seconds before a dull ache in her lower back and stomach wakes her up, mild at first but increasing steadily, reaching a truly painful point and then ceasing.

Weird, she thinks, and tries to fall back asleep. She’s too tired. She just wants to sleep. Whatever’s going on can surely wait until tomorrow.

A few minutes later, the same pain appears, a little stronger this time. She opens her eyes to glance at the alarm clock - 2.04 in the morning - and shifts her position in hope for that to help, but it doesn’t.

The next time it returns, her clock says 2.08. This time it’s real painful, worse than any Braxton-Hicks she’s felt before this, and it feels a lot, too much, like how she remembers the real deal from when she was in labor with Leah.

2.11, the same sensation appears again, lasting for a full minute and forcing her to breathe real deep to manage the pain. Her belly’s going rock hard for the entire time it’s lasting, too. Definitely suspicious, but she’s still too tired to reflect over it.

2.14, it happens yet another time.

Nope, is the only thought Amy can think when she realizes how close together they’re coming. Nope, nope, nope. She’s way too exhausted. She can have a baby in the morning, when she’s slept, and she’s not a fan of the idea of doing anything before then. This isn’t happening, she tries to convey to her body. This can wait until tomorrow.

2.17. This time, she can’t be still. She tries to find a comfortable position in their bed, but it doesn’t work, she needs to lean against something for support. She slides down to the floor and puts her crossed arms on the mattress, placing her head down and lightly swaying with the rest of her body as she breathes, breathes, breathes through the wave.

2.20. Another one. Amy’s fuming; she’s not having this right now, she’s tired, and no matter how badly she wants to meet this baby, she really wants to sleep before she does.

2.23, the same thing happens again.

2.26. She tries to muffle her groan in a pillow when it’s impossible to be silent. The pain is nearing what feels like an unmanageable point, and she hears Jake stirring awake at the other edge of the bed.

“Ames? What’s happening?”

“Nothing,” she says too quickly in an exhale. “Nothing’s happening.”

“Okay,” he replies in a skeptical tone, stretching himself over the bed and looking her in the eyes. “So you’re just doing that for fun, then?”

She doesn’t reply, but she's hyper-aware of him watching her scrunching her face in god-awful pain when the next contraction hits.

“Babe,” Jake asks, giving her a look of mixed worry and entertainment when it's over, “how many times has that happened?”

“Ten,” she hisses. “It’s fine. They’ll stop. I want to go back to sleep.”

“And how close together are they?”

“Three minutes. Two.”

His eyes widen with fear.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I need to sleep. This baby waited this long, it can wait until the morning.”

“I really don’t think that’s how it works.”

“It should be.”

Jake laughs nervously, stroking her hair. “Sure, but - maybe we should really, definitely, go to the hospital?”

“No, I want to go back to sleep.”

“How exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“I don't know.”

“You know, if we go to the hospital, you could have the epidural like you did last time. Then you could probably sleep for a while.”

She stares him down. “Promise me.”

“Uh, sure. Promise.”

“Okay. Let's go. But only for the epidural,” she declares, and then another torturous contraction forces her to shut up.

A quick call to their doctor confirms they should be going in immediately if contractions are that close together, so Jake is rushing, running around the apartment like a chicken with its head cut off as he packs the final things for their bags. Amy tries to help, but she's pretty useless, because every two minutes she has to lean against the nearest piece of furniture and rock slowly from side to side until the pain subsides. She's not sure how she gets in the car, because each contraction makes her feel like everything else blurs and she can't think, can't speak, can't do anything but try her best to breathe and not faint when the pain radiates through her lower back and core, intense and demanding and so much worse than she remembered.

Only a year ago, she remembers as Jake squeezes her hand and tells her he loves her, they’d been sitting in this same front seat as she cried and cried after finding out their first IVF transfer didn't take. It feels like a lifetime ago, and at the same time, like yesterday. She wonders if she could have predicted this back then, and figures probably not.

“We're having a baby,” she whispers to Jake in a break between contractions, and he smiles so wide she thinks his face is going to break. “You ready?”

“So ready. You?”

“To meet her? Yeah. To give birth? Not really.”

“You're gonna kill it,” he tells her, and there's another contraction just then so she can't reply, only grit her teeth and squeeze his wrist really hard. “You're already killing it.”

“I really can't wait for that epidural,” she mutters through the pain, and Jake just laughs.

Amy's not sure how she gets through the twenty-minute car ride. It's absolute hell, because she can't move in any way, can't do anything except keep breathing and keep holding on to the thought of the pain relief she's going to get once they get to the hospital. She wonders why people willingly choose to put themselves through this without any drugs. She sure as hell isn't going to, not after having learnt the difference last time.

Jake gets them parked and grabs their bags as Amy maneuvers herself out of the car. She manages just in time, closing the door in the same second as there’s a sudden warmth down her thighs and she almost wonders if she’s peed herself before realising what’s happening.

“Water,” she tries to communicate to Jake, and he digs up a pink water bottle from her bag before noticing her wet leggings.

“Oh. That kind of water. Well, at least you didn’t get any on the seat? Very considerate.”

She just glares at him.

Amy guesses it’s meant to be something like a five-minute walk through the corridors, but when she has to stop every other minute for the contractions that seem to have increased fivefold in strength, bringing with them an uncomfortable pressure that she really does not like, it’s probably closer to twenty minutes before they can be guided into their room.

Their doctor - the same one she had for her first labor, an older woman with dark hair and a comforting smile who perfectly meets Amy’s rock-hard criteria for professional but nice - does a quick examination, which Amy can barely feel in comparison to how much pain she’s in by now, and then she laughs.

“Yeah, you’re having a baby tonight alright. Good job getting here in time,” she nods to Jake, who looks unsure if he should accept the compliment or freak out over the possibility of not having gotten there.

“Great,” Amy huffs. “So can I get the epidural? Because I want it now. Please.”

“Oh no,” Dr. Cowan laughs. “You’re eight centimetres dilated and this seems to be progressing quickly. My guess is you’ll be pushing in half an hour, so I’m sorry, but there’s no time for that.”

“What?”

“You could have the laughing gas, if you’d like, but anything else will just slow labor down.”

“You promised,” Amy hisses towards Jake, and he holds up his hands.

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t my fault.”

“You promised!”

“What are we fighting about here?”

“I don’t know,” she confesses, and then another brutal contraction washes over her, together with the realization that she’s going to have to do the rest of this unmedicated.

She’s not happy about it.

Really, Amy's not sure how she gets through it.

To say that it's bad is an understatement; it's excruciating, some kind of evil torture she genuinely can’t believe humans were made to be able to handle, agonizing to a point where she's nearly hoping it will render her unconscious because that means she wouldn't have to take it anymore. She tries the laughing gas, but it just makes her feel dizzy and out of control, so she powers through without it. Jake tries to tell her she's crushing it, that she's badass and strong and doing amazing, but she can't waste any focus listening and eventually she tells him - not very gently - to shut the fuck up. It makes her feel kind of bad, because she knows he’s trying to be supportive, but at the same time, she really couldn't care less about his feelings because she's pretty sure she's going to die every time the pain increases.

But somehow, she survives.

One good thing - and it's not even good, it's more like a band-aid on a gaping chest wound in comparison - about no epidural is that she's free to move around, trying different positions in hope for something to ease the pain. Nothing does, but some ways give her a little bit more power, a little more control over what's happening. Amy supposes it's worth something. She does love control, even if she’d trade it in a heartbeat for some sweet, sweet pain relief. She ends up standing sort of on her hands and knees on the bed, getting some help from gravity, and it feels like the last bit stretches on forever but later on she’ll learn it was really fast. It's scary, a surrealistic thing to feel how her body just takes over, like it knows how to do something her head definitely doesn't.

And then, right as she’s certain she's not going to make it even another second, it's over.

There’s a moment of petrifying fear that something's wrong, that her baby’s about to be taken away like Leah was for the first traumatic minutes of her life, but then she hears a sharp, gurgling cry and she's not sure what’s happening but suddenly there’s a baby on her chest and everything is so, so, right.

Her daughter's kind of purple still, a little slimy and a little bloody and completely perfect, and Amy's shaking with a mix of shock, adrenaline and tears as the newborn puts her tiny hand high up on Amy's chest and she can't help but grip it, whispering a gentle hi, baby, hi, as the child squeaks in return.

She's imagined the sensation of holding her just-born baby in her arms since the first day she started thinking of having another kid, and yet all the fantasies pale in comparison to the explosive, unyielding love she feels when the newborn opens her eyes, gazing carefully at the world for the very first time.

“You know what time it is?” Jake asks her once when they’ve been moved to the recovery room, trying to fathom what just happened. “It’s five-thirty. She was born at four-thirty. When did you say you woke up?”

“Two a.m.,” Amy mumbles, and he shakes his head.

“So you did that in, what, two and a half hours? Man, you’re insane.”

“Thanks.” She chuckles, stroking her fingers over the thick, dark hair that appears to be a dominant trait for Santiago-Peralta children. Their newborn daughter is blinking at them as she tries to figure out the whole breastfeeding thing, seeming pretty exhausted from the events of the morning but not really wanting to sleep, either. “It was awful.”

“But worth it?”

“Yeah,” Amy nods without tearing her eyes away from their hour-old miracle. “Worth it. I’m not doing it again, though.”

Jake grins and kisses the top of the newborn’s head. “Very fair. I mean, we literally have the two most perfect kids the world has ever seen, so it’s not like you have to.”

“She really is perfect, huh?”

“For sure. You really are,” he whispers to their baby, running his thumb over her round cheeks and tiny nose. “Just like your sister.”

“Leah,” Amy bursts out, sitting up a little straighter and instantly regretting it because she’s sore and ungracious in every way. “We need to tell her! We never even told anyone we were going in! Fuck, I gotta text Rosa. Can you get me my phone?”

Jake brings it to her, and Amy carefully transfers their daughter over to his chest so she can have her arms free. The newborn whimpers at first, not too happy about the move, but then Jake softly pats her back through the pink and blue hospital blanket and lets her grip onto his thumb with her fist, and she’s at peace again. Her little head snuggles into his chest as she relaxes, and Amy just watches, barely making an attempt at wiping away the happy tears.

It’s been an obvious feeling to her, to hold her children for the first time and know that they are hers in some miraculous way, that they were part of her - but it’s another unique and indescribable feeling to watch Jake hold them and know they are his just as much, always safe and loved in his presence. Although she could never have predicted the sensation, she’s always had an inkling of it - a deep conviction and a ceaseless, rightful confidence that he would make the greatest dad. It keeps being proven correct.

“I forgot how small they are,” he mumbles, and there are tears in his eyes, too.

“She’s like a pound and a half bigger than Leah was.”

“Doesn’t feel like it. Do you think they look the same?”

“A little?” Amy tilts her head. “Same hair, same nose. But so different, too.”

“I think she looks a lot more like you than Lee did,” Jake smiles, stroking the little fist holding onto his thumb before kissing it. “I’m fine with that. You look like your mom, kid. Oh, don’t look so upset,” he says when the newborn scrunches her face together, “it’s a great way to look. Would you rather have my nose? Yeah, right. I didn't think so.”

Amy laughs, letting them continue their exchange as she snaps a picture of them and then sends that and another one of the first baby pictures to Rosa.

Rosa’s reply is as instant as it is shocked. She congratulates them, tells Amy she's crazy, promises them they can talk to Leah once she wakes up and even offers to drive her there later in the afternoon “if it means she'll beat Charles to meeting this baby”.

Amy figures she should probably text more people to spread the news, but the important thing is Leah knows, or at least will know, so she puts her phone on the side table and turns back to Jake.

“Rosa’s going to call us when Leah’s awake,” she says, unable to keep herself from leaning over and kissing their baby’s cheeks when she squeaks a little again.

“Great. You want to get some sleep before?”

“Oh, so bad.” Her exhaustion faded away somewhat in the chaos, pure adrenaline and a cascade of hormones keeping her awake, but it's catching up with her now. “Promise you two are good?”

“Olivia and I are great,” he promises, and his smile and their daughter’s softly blinking eyes makes her certain he’s right. “You agreed to that name, right?”

“One condition.” Amy yawns. “You are never allowed to tell her she’s named after a cat. Ever.”

She thinks she can hear him mumbling something about not making promises he won’t be able to keep, but she’s falling asleep before she can protest.

Leah’s and Olivia’s first meeting doesn’t start out great.

Amy’s trying to be methodical and gentle, making sure Olivia’s in her bassinet and she can have both arms free to hug her three-year-old, but then the infant starts wailing the moment Leah enters the room and she gets terrified, immediately trying to run out with tears streaming down her cheeks. Jake has to chase after her while Amy tends to Olivia, who’s decided she needs to eat right this second and not a moment later, except she’s literally ten hours old and not very good at nursing just yet, which only serves to increase her frustration before she calms down enough to figure it out. When she does and Amy can take a deep breath, Jake and Leah return. Leah’s calmed down a little, but she’s still red under the eyes and skeptical to even say hi to her mom and her sister. Amy’s heartbroken as the girl wraps her arms tighter around Jake and turns her head away, and there’s a second where she wonders briefly again why she thought this was a good idea.

But then, Jake asks if Leah wants to see the gift Olivia brought her - a nifty trick Amy found on some Instagram account - and the three-year-old squeals with happiness as she unwraps a singing Elsa doll, and it’s upwards from there. She dares to climb into the hospital bed and first look at the baby, then carefully pat her head, then laugh as Olivia finishes nursing and makes another squeaking noise. Amy figures Leah won’t want to hold her sister at first, but once she’s told them all about her sleepover with Rosa - it seems to have included gymnastics, a Disney movie and cake - she’s looking at the baby with a little more interest, and then she asks the question all on her own.

“Can I hold her?”

They put a pillow in her lap and a pillow behind her back for support, and Jake holds his hand under Olivia’s head throughout, but they let her. It’s the best thing Amy’s ever seen in her life. Just when she thinks it can't get better than this, Leah leans her head down so her cheek is touching her little sister's, and Amy has no way of stopping her happy tears.

She’d never thought people were lying, per se, when they’d described how your love just doubles when you have another child. She’d been certain she would love another baby just as much. It had been part of the reason she fought so hard to have one, but she realizes now that she was never even close to understanding the full meaning of double the love. The power with which she loves Leah has grown exponentially for every day, reaching infinity and still becoming stronger, and today, it's like her love for Olivia has clocked in at the same level, stretched out a hand and increased in tandem with the love for her sister. Amy wonders how it makes sense, how it’s possible for a heart to grow that big, but she's accepted that it’s one of many questions about motherhood she’ll never know the answer too.

Instead, she just makes sure she takes a series of pictures to document the moment, and then she meets Jake's eyes for a second to mouth a silent I love you.

They get to go home the next afternoon. Amy was expecting it to feel more natural with their second child, less like they’ve stolen someone else’s baby and is pretending to know what they’re doing, but it feels just as absurd as the first time when they secure her in the car seat and carry her outside.

The sun seems to be shining particularly bright as they drive, but Olivia sleeps for the whole way home.

She does not, however, continue with that for the rest of the day. Rather, she wants to eat for most of it. Which is fine; Amy knows and remembers that’s what it’s like at first. Still, it’s exhausting and far from painless while they’re both trying to figure it out, and it keeps her stuck to her corner of the couch for hours on end. This gets Leah jealous, making her throw a tantrum because she wants Amy to play with her in her room and she can’t, and there's a moment where everyone except Jake is crying at the same time before Leah calms down and accepts the suggestion of everyone watching a movie on the couch and ordering pizza for dinner. Partly to celebrate, partly because no one has the energy to cook.

There's going to be an adjustment period for them all, Amy figures. She’s certain it will come with a cavalcade of challenges, but as Leah insists on being Jake's helper as he changes a diaper and shines with pride as she hands him too many wet wipes and picks out Olivia's pajamas, she can already tell it's going to be more than worth it.

When it’s time for Leah to go to bed, she claims she wants everyone there to read stories. Amy asks, just to make sure, if that means her sister too, and Leah nods. She’s very intent on storytime taking place in her bed, though, and so Amy ends up squeezing herself to fit in the toddler bed with Olivia on her chest and Leah on her side. Jake has to sit on the floor.

“This is unfair,” he grumbles, and Leah laughs and snuggles closer to her mom, pressing a kiss to her baby sister’s head.

“Read the story, dada.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.”

They read two different stories, both of them yawning through the second one. Amy’s pretty sure Leah’s about to fall asleep, can feel the little arm draped across her stomach going heavier, more relaxed, but as Jake closes the covers to the second book, there’s a whisper.

“Another book,” it comes out in a yawn, and Jake laughs.

“Are you sure, bumblebee? I think you’re getting pretty tired.”

“No.” Leah shakes her head. “More stories.”

“Fine.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “One more. Just for tonight.”

He begins to read, and a few minutes later, Leah’s sleeping. She has her mouth open, one arm still resting on Amy as if to hold her in place, her other arm hugging the stuffed lion animal she still sleeps with.

She seems so big in comparison to her little sister, yet so innocent and peaceful as she’s sleeping, and entirely magical to watch. Every day, Amy thanks her lucky stars that she gets to watch this child grow up and take on the world, and it blows her mind to think she’ll get to do the same with the baby curled up on her chest. It seems so far away to picture this tiny infant growing up and becoming her own unique individual, too, but she knows it will happen, and she cannot wait for the rollercoaster ride she figures raising these two children will be.

She’s squeezed into a far from comfortable position in the narrow toddler bed, she’s still sore and in pain after the nightmare that is childbirth, she's sleep-deprived and figures she's looked better after a 48 hour work shift than she does right now, but both her children are sleeping so close to her, and she's never been happier.

There’d been a time, not long ago, where she thought she’d never get to experience this. A second child had seemed like something the universe wasn't willing to give her, until it was, and now she’s living the reality she once feared would remain a dream.

She knows she’s never going to see her infertility journey as something beautiful, because it wasn’t. It was heartbreaking, soul-crushing and lonely even with Jake by her side, and the few comments she’s heard about how it must all have been worth it, though have made her want to punch someone. It was a curveball life threw her, an unfair challenge she had to go through for some reason, and she’s happy she survived it but she’s not grateful it happened. She’s simply accepted it. In the end, her life also gave her this; two objectively perfect children who are the best thing to ever happen to her, even pushing their father down to a still close second-place position. Her gratefulness for them still doesn't erase the painful experiences, but it makes them fade into the background, to a point where they’ll eventually become but a faint shadow of a memory. Amy figures that is the most she can ask for.

It takes her a moment to realize she has no idea how she's going to get up from this position. She’s closest to the wall, and she gets now that it was an unwise choice. Leah’s holding onto her arm, Olivia’s sleeping lightly and already stirring, and Amy has strong doubts in her own ability to get up without waking anyone.

She looks to Jake, hoping he might be able to help her, but finds that he’s fallen asleep on the floor using a stuffed animal as a pillow and holding his thumb between the last pages of the book they were reading. It looks ridiculous and deeply endearing at the same time, and even though it means she’s so screwed and she’s going to have to wake him somehow before Olivia starts screaming bloody murder, she can’t be mad about it.

All she can do is laugh.

and at last, i see the light

and it’s like the fog has lifted

and at last, i see the light

and it’s like the sky is new

and it’s warm, and real, and bright

and the world has somehow shifted

all at once, everything looks different

now that i see you.

~ i see the light, from tangled

#my writing #b99 #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine-nine #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99 fic #brooklyn 99 fic #brooklyn nine-nine fic #b99 fanfiction #brooklyn nine-nine fanfiction #jake x amy fic #jake x amy fanfiction #peraltiago fic #peraltiago fanfiction #iwthwy

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jelanisaeed · 4 years

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Round 2: VS Piplup - Legends Part 2

And here we go with Chapter 2! This one took a lot of different tries. But once I settled into lessening the new for fight scenes, it became easier. I hope y'all like it!

Oh, and just like the last chapter, this chapter was inspired by the Calling All Lovers Album by Tamar Braxton. The song that helped the most was Circles.

…

Pokémon Adventures: Turquoise, Jasper, & Ammolite

Round 2: VS Piplup – Legends Part 2

Location: Lake Verity Date: August 4th , 3000 Time: 11:00am

"I'm the guardian of Lake Verity. My name is Turquoise. Turquoise Yukule."

So much for relaxation. After a stressful week, Turquoise just needed one day to himself. Even planned it out himself! Sure, it wasn't much—just a morning swim and some parkour later—but it helped plenty. Then again, he should have expected this. No plan of his ever failed to hit a snag along the way.

Just like now. Morning swim ruined by some stranger fighting Motha. Cute guy with his glowing, short green coils and fade against his soft sienna skin. Not the worst sight by any means. Especially with inviting emerald eyes like his.

"Guardian…?" The stranger frowned. "So, the legend's real?"

Turquoise nodded. "Aye. All legends have some truth to 'em, ya know?"

The stranger pursed his lips. A strange fire burned just beneath his skin and oozed red light. Anger, Turquoise realized. The blaze licked the air in thin wisps of lips only Turquoise saw. Most won't see the emotions take form around them. Or their power. His pokémon knew and squirmed in his hold. Poor girl. Good thing Turquoise kept some pecha berries in his bag.

"What's the big deal, huh?" Stranger snarled. "Attacking people with your ugly bug?"

"Motha's very protective." Master Doryu ensured it with his training. "I'm sorry she attacked you. I have some pecha berries if ya—"

"—I don't need your pity!" Stranger snapped, grinding his teeth. "Your bug attacked a kid too! Left him with a burn—the hell's wrong with you?"

A kid? Turquoise frowned. Motha wouldn't have done that. If the kid came, she drove him off. But burn him… Turquoise kneeled to her and ran her hand through her fur. At once, her emotions and memories flooded his mind in an array of colorful pictures. Yet none told the tale this strange claimed.

Not that he believed it anyway. Motha can't burn anyone.

"I think you got it wrong," Turquoise began slowly as he raised to his feet. "Motha didn't attack anyone other than you."

The stranger rose with his partner to his chest. Lips thinned as he grounded out, "bullshit." Those inviting eyes hardened into cold stones. "So that kid burned himself? Or was that just you, huh? You the monster?"

Turquoise saw those cold eyes on so many faces. And they all hailed him the same. Monster. Maybe there was some truth to it. Through all the shoves and blows, maybe that stuck for a reason. Followed him no matter how much he cried. Even if he couldn't see it in his own reflection. The monster stayed inside him. Without a cure to cleanse him.

"I'm not a monster." He spoke, but he didn't believe it. "I think it's time you left."

The stranger scoffed. "Yeah, right." His lips twitched into a mocking sneer. "Then freak should do better, right?"

They were just words, he knew. Simple letters weaved together by people and given meaning. Power, even, but only if he claimed it. Master Doryu drilled that lesson into his head over and over. Eventually, it got easier. Taunts rolled off his skin and he held his head up higher with each turn. Confident. Empowered.

Not like now.

Turquoise blamed it on the stress. It weighed on his spirit and waned his walls. And allowed those sharpened words to plunge through the cracks and stab his heart. Tears welled in his eyes, but he refused to cry. No bully would ever have the satisfaction.

"Well, whatever you are, Professor Kapok wanted you to have this."

The rude trainer returned his pokémon and pulled something out of his knapsack. A box of some kind wrapped neatly in blue paper. Turquoise accepted the package but never met his eyes. Even as the flames died down and a strange emotion sprouted within him.

"Now I'm outta here. See ya, freak."

Stranger left. And Turquoise stood alone with his package. At least something positive came from this. Even if it unearthed buried feelings in the process.

…

There we go, Turquoise tied his blue bandana to his forehead. His short black coils, lightly dried, curtained over the fabric. Just as he liked it. It matched well with his heavy black t-shirt and cargo pants. And complimented his blue short and sleeveless open vest, utility belt, and hiking boots.

Getting dressed always released the tension locked in his bones. Especially in the comfort of his room. Surrounded by trinkets and posters he collected over the years. After a day like this, he wanted nothing more than to curl up with a good book. But today he had his own story to start. His own chapter to write.

(Trainer,) Empola the piplup waddled to his side. She gazed at him with her sparkling eyes and smiled. (I like it.)

Professor Kapok gave him his own starter pokémon. Him! Little Turquoise from Twinleaf Town—he couldn't believe. But it became the best gift he ever received.

Well, it wasn't the only one, Turquoise grinned. Right on his bed sat a strange handheld painted turquoise and light green. Even had his initials inscribed on the lid. Another gift from the good professor. Along with two letters, of course. Professor Kapok had a way with words.

"Thanks Empola," He clipped his luxury balls to his belt and gathered up his rope.

He spent hours packing up his finneon print travel duffle with the essentials. Finally, he was ready. Rooms cleaned and he left a note for his mom when she got back. She had to be on the plane with Celeste by now. He hated to leave on the terms they did, but he felt for the best. Once he came back, they would settle things. For now, though, he needed to take a chance.

Turquoise hooked the rope to his belt with a sigh. That's it—he's ready. At least, he should be. Yet trepidation chained him in place. He didn't deserve this opportunity.

Just send it back! A part of him nagged. You'll just mess it up! Like everything you do.

Maybe it's true. This wasn't the first time he tried to leave and start his journey. Not day went by when he didn't stare off into Route 201. Enticed by the sounds of nature luring him closer. With each step, their sounds found a rhythm. And a beautiful song filled his ears. It lulled him forward and just before he stepped foot in the grass, that nagging voice cut through and his confidence died away.

Master Doryu would be disappointed. Not that he blamed the man. At thirteen, Turquoise wanted nothing more than to take his journey like his classmates. To evolve as they did. Even his bullies came back changed and apologized!

"Empola, do you think I should go?" He pocketed his device and frowned. "Do you think I'm ready?"

Empola huffed. (Trainer, shape up!) She puffed up her chest and held her flippers at her hips. (You ready! I'm ready! We're ready! Now let's go!)

Maybe it was that simple. Mama always wanted this for him. And, deep down, so did he.

But Empola wasn't finished. She pounded her chest with her chest and smiled. (I'm with you, Trainer.) She spoke softly as a blush bloomed across her face. (For everything.)

Turquoise smiled and pulled her into his embrace.

Monster or not, Turquoise wouldn't trade this blessing for the world. His pokémon became more than friends. They were his family.

Normality's overrated, Turquoise gazed at his room. Three, long, unhappy years spent in these four walls. The next time he came home, he'd have new memories to fill it. More posters and pictures of the world that yearned for him.

Time to take the world by storm. Just as Professor Kapok said.

I hope this letter grants you the clarity to move forward, the letter began. To grab onto the horns of the tauros and race forward. With the world watching your back for a change.

…

The setting sun was the perfect backdrop. It bled swirling rays of orange light whose warmth caressed Turquoise's dark skin. He smiled. He stood tall at the archway to Twinleaf. A new addition to the town that he helped pain all those years ago. And not a bad job, if he said so. Way better than the dreadful tan they envisioned. A little purple went a long way, after all.

He always passed through the archway whenever he left town. But now was different. It could be months before he ever set foot here again. So much could change by then. The daycare could receive new kids for all he knew! Most of all, however, he knew he would change.

And he hoped for the better.

Ight, Turquoise took a step forward and Empola mimicked him. Albeit clumsier as she stumbled over her feet. Time to go.

Adjusting the straps of his travel duffel, Turquoise stepped through the arch. With each step, they got closer to the tall grass. And farther from Twinleaf Town. A rush of guilt filled his heart, but he pushed forward.

Empola led the charge through the tall grass. And got her first battle from an overzealous bidoof. A clean fight that earned her a few scraps. She came out on top, of course, and puffed out her chest with pride. Turquoise laughed. Only she made confidence look so adorable.

They had not made it far when he felt it. A disturbance, Thick, and heavy dark emotions slithered through the breezes. His sensed cringed, but they moved unperturbed. Coiled around him. Hissed in his ears and flooded his veins with their presence.

Turquoise gagged and found Empola trembling.

He knew this aura anywhere.

The trees behind him erupted in flames. Mr. Stranger trembled out. Followed by a beautiful lizard pokémon with dark skin highlighted by pink markings. She stared at them with glowing, purple eyes. Drenched in an eerie dark purple aura.

"A Shadow Pokémon."

…

And there's Chapter 2!

For Turquoise, I kind of envisioned him as mix of the Pokemon Breeder and Pokemon Ranger, just more on the Ranger side for now. Incorporating the Breeder look was hard though so I settled on a bandana for now!

I love Turquoise lol. I hope y'all do too. And don't worry about Paxton, he'll get better lol.

As always, feel free to leave a review or PM me!

#Pokemon #LGBT

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kmomof4 · 5 years

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Ch7 Time and Again

We’re back y’all!!! Thank you so much for your love and support of me and this fic! I hope you enjoy the new chapter!!

Ao3 link

All the love and thanks to my besties and beta/encouraged team of @hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89!!! Love you ladies to the moon and back again!!! *mwah*

Also big shoutout to the CSSNS discord ladies for all their encouragement and help over the last few months!!!

Tagging my peeps: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed

Under the cut unless Tumblr ate it.

A/N I am aware that in some places it is illegal to swim with dolphins in the wild. But this is fan fiction y'all. Just go with it.

Killian cracked the door open to Emma’s bedroom to see the blonde siren still in dreamland. She was on her tummy facing the door with her sunlit hair spread over the pillow and her face. The little whistle she released on her exhale caused the corner of his mouth to lift in an affectionate smile. He crept into the room and made his way to the windows and opened the blinds so the morning light flooded the room. “Rise and shine, sleepy head!” His exuberance obviously didn’t even register with her as all she did was snuggle her head deeper into the pillow and pull the comforter more firmly around her.

He laid down on the bed facing her, tenderly brushing her hair away from her face. “Oh Swan,” he singsonged. She finally cracked an eye open.

“Who’re you?” she slurred, still mostly asleep.

He broke into a full grin. “I’m a new day,” he exclaimed. “New opportunities. New experiences.”

“You’re insane,” she grumbled, turning away from him.

“No, I’m not,” he insisted, getting up from the bed. “Come on Swan, daylight’s a wastin’. Breakfast is ready and we need to get moving.”

“Why?” she questioned, turning back to him. She sent him a side eye as she pushed her hair out of her face and sat up. “Am I making you late for an appointment?”

“Ahh, not an appointment, per se,” he admitted, scratching behind his ear. “More of a rendezvous. Between us. With a specific activity in mind.” His eyes widened along with hers as her mouth fell open when he realized exactly what he just said. Holding his hand out and shaking his head vigorously he nearly shouted, “No, no, no, Swan! That’s not what I meant,” he justified himself, feeling his face flush. “I mean,” he stammered, looking down again, “I had an idea of how we could spend the day.” He looked up and met her skeptical gaze head on. “Deep sea fishing.”

“Deep sea fishing?” she parroted, the incredulous look on her face making him break into a grin.

“Deep sea fishing,” he reiterated. “Have you ever been? Oh, never mind,” he murmured, scratching behind his ear again. “I forgot. You’ve never been to the gulf. And I assume, no other beach as well?”

She sent him another side eye and a smirk. “You assumed correctly.” She climbed off the bed and stood before him. “What is it? A charter? What time is our reservation?”

“Nope, not a charter,” he informed her. “Right behind the pool, on the other side of all that green, is the dock.” He smiled down at her. “The Jolly Roger will be at that dock in,” he checked his watch, “less than an hour.”

Her eyes were nearly comically wide now. “The Jolly Roger?” she choked out, “Are you kidding me? What is it with you and pirates?” She shook her head.

He laughed at her dubious expression. “No, I’m not kidding you, Swan,” he said, shaking his head and waggling his eyebrows at her with a delighted twinkle in his eye. “And, I mean, you were the one who watched Black Sails. I think the name of the ship in the dream, must have been from me.” His gaze turned sheepish. “I’m sorry again for last night, Swan. I…”

“Nope,” she said. “We’re not talking about that. You have a wonderful day planned. Let’s focus on that.”

"You’re right, Swan.” He turned away and retreated to the door of her room. “Like I said, breakfast is ready, so get a move on. I’ll see you up there.” He shut the door gently behind him.

~*~*~

Killian was sitting at the table finishing his coffee when Emma finally made an appearance about thirty minutes later looking much more awake than when he had left her. She wore a red crocheted top with three-quarter sleeves over patterned shorts. Her hair was pulled into a messy braid that lay over her shoulder. The sheepish look she sent him was all kinds of adorable and caused his lips to pull into a smile as he brought his coffee cup up to his lips.

“Uhh,” she worried, “I wasn’t sure what appropriate attire was for deep sea fishing,” she finished, waving her hand vaguely over her body.

“Honestly, Swan,” he began, “your bathing suit and a t-shirt cover-up will be fine. Sunscreen and a sunhat are actually more important. Keep you from getting burned. Do you have rubber soled shoes?”

She nodded as she made her way to the coffee pot. “I brought my tennis shoes.”

“They’ll be fine,” he assured her. “There’s homemade French toast and bacon in the oven. I’ve already eaten. What do you like on it? Powdered sugar? Syrup?” he asked getting up from his chair and coming into the kitchen area.

“Syrup please,” she murmured. He got the syrup out for her and sat it down on the table. She dug in to breakfast with a gusto that surprised him.

“It’s not going anywhere, Swan,” he chuckled. “There’s plenty, and I promise to feed you again at lunch. Speaking of, what would you like me to make for us?”

She grinned around her full mouth. The unintelligible, but entirely adorable mumble that came from her pulled a full laugh out of him. After swallowing, she tried again. “French toast is my favorite. I can’t help digging into it like there’s no tomorrow. What kind of jam is there?”

He made his way to the fridge to search for jam. “We have grape, strawberry, and apple butter.” He straightened back up again. “What did you have in mind?”

“Can we make peanut butter and jelly? With the strawberry jam?” she asked. The almost guilty look on her face made his gut tighten in indignation and made him wonder what or who in her past would make her so hesitant to ask for something as simple as a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

He couldn’t let her know that though, so he smiled at her instead. “Of course we can. Do you like crunchy or smooth peanut butter?”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh smooth, please,” she enthused. Her eagerness waned slightly as she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to people really caring what I think when it comes to things like that. I mean, Ingrid, my mom, does, but…” she trailed off.

“Wounds made when we’re young tend to linger,” he conceded, nodding. “And I’d imagine that in the foster system, there wasn’t much catering to simple desires and wants. I understand,” he murmured, coming over to her, sitting down next to her, and taking her hand. His eyes met hers and he forced all the sincerity he was feeling into his eyes for her to see. “When it comes to me, Swan,” he continued, “get used to it.”

She nodded slowly, their gaze never breaking. He saw a hesitancy in her eyes that made him want to gather her in his arms and promise that nothing would ever hurt her again. But he knew that love and trust were earned and making rash and ultimately impossible to keep promises would do nothing to move him closer to that goal. So he settled for pouring everything he was thinking and feeling into his eyes and hoping that she would read it. He stood up and went back to the kitchen to prepare their lunch while his Swan finished her breakfast.

~*~*~

“I didn’t even notice this yesterday when we were touring the house,” she enthused, nearly skipping down the dock. Her obvious delight at their excursion thrilled him as well, as he tried, unsuccessfully, to smother his grin and a small chuckle.

She stopped in front of the luxury boat at the end of the dock. The grin she sent him made his heart soar. “Behold! The Jolly Roger! She’s a World Cat Glacier Bay Edition Catamaran. We could run from here to the Bahamas if we wanted to.” He passed her and climbed on holding his hand out to her to help her aboard. “And this is her Captain, Nemo Dakkar.” He indicated the tall, bald man to the side.

He bowed low as he took her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. “Welcome to the Jolly Roger, milady. We will be heading south from the island about forty miles before we weigh anchor and spend a few hours fishing the depths. We also have snorkeling equipment aboard if you’d like to get in the water.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Captain Dakkar,” she replied, with a slight blush.

“Oh please,” he waved away her formality, “call me Nemo. Have to take advantage of a name like that,” he continued, with a twinkle in his eye.

She let out a laugh that completely relaxed the tension that he could see in her shoulders when she met Nemo. He was so good at putting people at ease, Killian was pleased to see him work his charms on his Swan.

Nemo took the small cooler that held their lunch and turned from the couple to head to the cabin. After settling himself and Emma comfortably on the bench seats behind where Nemo was seated, Killian nodded to him to start the engines.

As they pulled away from the dock, Killian watched Emma closely. She had changed clothes as he suggested into her bathing suit with a sleeveless button up top and shorts over it and tennis shoes. The straw hat on her head and sunglasses on her face did nothing to hide the joy in her wide smile. “You didn’t notice the boat yesterday because it wasn’t here, Swan,” he informed her, shouting above the roar of the twin Yamaha engines. “She’s docked on South Padre Island. I called Nemo last night and asked him to be here at ten this morning.”

“I see,” she shouted back laughing, as the wind tried to whip her hat off her head. Watching her smile and laugh as their temporary home got smaller and smaller behind them, Killian hoped that everything they experienced today would make for a day to remember.

~*~*~

“Tell me a favorite memory of you and Liam,” she asked, smiling.

“Oh, are we playing twenty questions again, Swan?” he joked, with a smirk and raised eyebrow. They had finally reached their destination in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico and had set their rods. Now they just had to wait. Emma had taken off her outer clothes and was sunning herself on the seats at the stern of the boat. The bright blue bikini left little to the imagination and Killian was having a lot of trouble keeping his thoughts from straying into uncomfortable territory. Uncomfortable territory with their audience nearby anyway. So he was thankful when Emma asked him the question.

“Hmmmm,” he pondered. “My favorite memory with Liam.” A grin broke out on his face. “You’re gonna think I’m awful for saying this, but you remember asking if I was competitive?” Emma nodded. “So, March 2004, Liam and I were skiing in Aspen. I was on spring break before I graduated.” Emma’s eyes lit up. “A pretty lass had caught Liam’s eye and he was trying to impress her, so he was being entirely too foolhardy in challenging me to a race. He should have known that I wasn’t going to take it easy on him just so he could impress his lovely lady.” He chuckled, looking down. “Once again, I handed his ass to him. And not only did I beat him, but he took a tumble as well breaking his ankle. I mean, he was fine, eventually. No lasting effects, but it certainly makes for a funny memory for a younger brother.” He looked back up with a wide grin on his face.

“March 2004?” she asked, her eyes dancing, “Do you remember exactly when? I was supposed to be on a senior trip during our spring break in Aspen.”

“Really?” he exclaimed, surprised. “I don’t remember exactly when we were there, but there was a big jazz festival going on that week.”

“Yes!” she laughed, “That’s when we were going. For the jazz festival! I didn’t get to go because I sprained my ankle the week before at a softball game.” Her face fell then. “I cried the entire week they were gone. I don’t know why. I wasn’t even that excited for the trip. I mean,” she amended, holding her hand out to him, “I was looking forward to it, don’t get me wrong,” she shrugged, “but not enough to warrant all the crying I did that week. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something. Something important.”

Killian could feel the blood draining from his face. He suddenly remembered that week, with perfect clarity, hovering in that in between state between waking and sleeping, hearing a girl cry as if her heart would break. When he would wake up fully, the crying was gone. He had forgotten about it until this very moment.

“Wait a minute,” he speculated, with a frown on his face, “I remember a group of kids there that week with these obnoxious tie dye lime green and turquoise t-shirts and yellow baseball caps. I remember them because they kept singing this NSYNC song, Bye Bye Bye, but with different words.”

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed, “Those were my friends! And I wrote those lyrics! Oh that is hysterical! That you were there the same week I would have been.” She looked over at him as realization dawned. “I should have been there when you were there.”

Before he married Milah. Before losing who, at the time, he thought, was the love of his life. Would he have met her back then? If so, would that have stopped him from marrying Milah? Sparing him that heartache that was to come? He’d never know. But he couldn’t help but think that if he had met her back then, his life would have been different. He sent her a despondent smile before shaking off his melancholy. “Ok, my turn,” he said, determined to take their conversation into a happier direction. “What was the first movie you saw in a theater?”

She laughed. “You may not believe this, but I remember seeing Aladdin in the theater. My first grade class took a field trip to see it before Christmas break. What about you?”

“My first movie was Honey, I Shrunk the Kids. Favorite movie of all time?”

“The Princess Bride.” She looked down with a slight blush to her cheeks.

“What?” he inquired, as she lifted her face towards him again. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed about loving The Princess Bride. It’s one of my favorites, too.”

“Really?” The amazed hope in her eyes made him catch his breath.

“Are you kidding? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles… how could it not be?”

She sent him a bemused smirk. “Saw what you did there,” she murmured. Now it was his turn to blush and look down. “What about your favorite movie?”

“Star Wars, the original trilogy,” he answered definitively, with no hesitation whatsoever. “Uhhh… favorite book.”

“My book of fairy tales.” The enhanced blush on her cheeks made his heart stutter in his chest. While the blush may have given away her nervousness at revealing something so personal, she held her head high, refusing to back down from the intimacy engendered by such a revelation. “One of the few good families I had growing up gave it to me for Christmas. I was seven.” She looked down then. “All the stories in the book started with hope. Reading them over the years, helped me keep my hope alive that there was a family out there for me. Someone to love me.” She looked up again with a tremulous smile before nodding toward him for his answer. But he couldn’t. Not until he held her in his arms and assured her of his love for her. Without words of course. He rose to cross over to her when a jingle to his left caught his attention.

“I think you may have caught something, Swan,” he informed her, looking towards her rod and reel.

Emma scrambled up from where she was lounging on the padded seat to where her rod was secured on the edge of the boat.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed. “What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?” Her excitement and trepidation were hilarious and Killian couldn’t hold back his laugh.

“Reel it in, Swan,” he encouraged. She took the rod in her hands and was nearly pulled overboard, unprepared as she was for the weight of her catch, before Killian grabbed her around her middle and pulled her in to him, securing her back to his front so she’d have the leverage to reel it in. He murmured encouragement in her ear as she leaned against him and did battle with whatever was on the other end of her line.

About ten yards from the gunwale of the boat, the fish made a mighty leap into the air, trying to free itself from Emma’s line. “Swan,” he shouted, “That’s a king mackerel! And a good size too!” Nemo had been standing by waiting for the fish to make an appearance. As Emma finished reeling it in, he pulled the fish over into the boat and unhooked it from the line.

Emma turned around and threw herself into Killian’s arms. “I did it, I did it, I did it!” she shouted. The smile that split her face made his heart soar.

He spun with her in his arms, laughing with her. “That you did, Swan. Well done!” He placed her on her feet, but continued to hug her in celebration of her success.

“Oh this is gross, Killian. We’re sticking together,” she mock complained, pulling out of his arms. She looked up into his face as he went very still. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s the first time you’ve called me Killian,” he murmured.

“Is it?” she asked, with a furrowed brow.

“Yes, Emma, it is.” His azure gaze penetrated the confusion that swirled in her jade depths. The only time he had ever called her Emma, was when she’d called him after the last dream. It was always Swan or Miss Swan in their interactions before and since. Just as it had always been Mr. Jones, Jones, or sir. With her use of his first name, he felt the need to use her first name as well. He pulled her closer again, wanting to impress upon her the importance of the moment when he was interrupted by a series of trills, clicks, and whistles off the port side.

Emma turned wide eyes toward the pod of dolphins that were frolicking and chirping in the water only a couple of feet from the boat. “Dolphins,” she exclaimed, delighted. She turned back to him and Nemo, eyes the size of saucers. “Can we get in the water with them?” she asked, a hesitant hope in her eyes.

“Of course you can, my dear,” the captain laughed. “Leave your hat and sunglasses here. I’ll get out the camera and take pictures.” Emma needed no other encouragement. As she took off her shoes and accessories, Killian got out the snorkel equipment for them both. When they were both properly outfitted, they jumped into the water.

There were ten dolphins in the water including a couple of much smaller ones. The mamas were protective of the little ones, not letting the humans get too close, but the others were eager to play. Killian was in awe of the creatures and watching Emma interact with them brought tears to his eyes and laughter to his heart. He thought his heart would burst when Emma placed a kiss to the nose of one of them. They were both taken for a ride, holding on to the dorsal fin of one of the more adventurous creatures. The animals would often look at the boat and seem to pose for Nemo with the camera. Killian was delighted that Nemo not only took pictures of him and Emma swimming and playing with them, but got pictures of just the dolphins when they were jumping out of the water. After about forty-five minutes of frolicking with the animals, the pod moved away from the boat and Killian and Emma made their way back to it.

~*~*~

Nemo helped Emma back into the boat as Killian came up right behind her. The stunned disbelief on her face melted into pure joy as she laughed at the marvelous adventure they’d had that afternoon. “I still can’t believe it,” she sighed, “I’ve never,” she shook her head, “even been that close to a wild animal before, outside the zoo. And to actually touch one…” she trailed away with a sense of wonder that she knew was all over her face.

She looked at Killian as he came up behind her. “Aye, Swan,” he agreed. “It’s something we’ll never forget.” The moment was too poignant and emotional. She stepped into his open arms and let him hold her. She held the tears she could feel gathering at the corners of her eyes back only by sheer force of will. The emotions on a rampage inside of her demanded an outlet and finally found that release in a barking sob.

“It was so beautiful,” she cried into his shoulder, “and perfect. And I’m so happy. And I’m so sad it’s over. And I’ll never forget it. As long as I live.”

“That’s right, Swan,” he murmured, “let it out. Let it all out. I’ve got you.” He continued to hold her, whispering assurances and what comfort he could in their shared experience. When her sobs finally started to taper off, he reluctantly released her and turned to Nemo. “So let’s see those pics, shall we?”

Emma wiped her eyes and hiccuped as the captain strode forward with the camera. “We also have to get a picture of Emma with her mackerel.”

“Yes, we do,” Killian agreed, smiling down at her and taking the camera. “Ready lass?” he asked. Nemo approached again with her catch and a bright smile broke through the tears at last.

“I weighed it, and this bad boy weighs 47lbs,” the captain exclaimed, his eyes lit up in approval. “Well done!”

Emma let out a watery laugh. “Thank you,” she marveled, taking her fish from Nemo. He took the camera back from Killian and took pictures of the fish, Emma holding it up, and then Emma holding it between her and Killian.

“Now, before we head for home,” he informed them, “I’ll clean it and put it in the fridge. And y’all can have king mackerel for dinner tonight.”

While they waited for Nemo to finish the arduous undertaking of cleaning the huge fish, Emma and Killian sat side by side and scrolled through the pictures of their dolphin adventure. There were also pictures of Emma reeling in her catch. She was near tears again as she looked at the images. There was one that Nemo had caught of one of the dolphins fully jumping out of the water.

“Oh, now I’m getting that one made into a canvas and putting it on the wall,” Killian promised. “Now whether it’s in my office or here or at home will remain to be seen.” He smiled widely at her.

Smiling back, she asked him, “Why not all three? I know I wouldn’t mind seeing that picture wherever I was.”

“You know, you’re right,” he agreed. “Why can’t I have that picture at all three places. Thank you Emma,” he breathed, awareness sparking in his gaze. Slowly he lowered his lips to hers. She smiled into the kiss and opened for him when his tongue requested entrance. She struggled to maintain some semblance of awareness of where they were and who was nearby as he deepened the kiss. She moaned as he lit a fire in her blood when one of his hands reached her breast. She clutched his shoulders as he pulled her closer until she was nearly sitting in his lap. Their tongues continued to duel and their hands continued to roam until they heard a loud clearing of a throat just before the engines roared to life. Breaking apart with a guilty glance back at the captain, who only smirked at them in return, they tried to bring their breathing and heart rates back under control. Killian stood up, rather awkwardly in her opinion, and began to reel in his rod. In all the excitement, they had completely forgotten about it. Once he had it stored, he gave the signal to Nemo and they were off.

Once Killian sat back down, Emma settled herself in between his spread legs and leaned back onto his chest with her head resting on his shoulder. Content just to be there and be held by him, she felt herself start to drift off, safe in the arms of the man she loved after one of the best days of her life.

#Time and Again #ch7 #krystal writes #art by krystal

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imaginesmai · 5 years

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Ubbe-The sweet baker and the bad biker (SOA AU) (3)

Part three is finished! The series will have five parts. Original idea by lovely @recklesslonelyblond, hope you like it!

I don’t have a lot of time to write lately, so I’m only writting about what I feel really really inspired; because otherwise I wouldn’t get anything done. I’m sorry I’m so absent, I will come back to normal posting in June, hopefully!

Previous parts: Part 1, Part 2

Plot: Ubbe’s life is perfect with you; but it’s about to get shaken up becuase your problematic and nazi neighbours.

Warnings: talking about Nazis so-> discrimination towards black and jewish people, women; too much violence and bad words. I DO NOT SUPPORT ANY OF THIS THOUGHTS OR ACTIONS; THEY ARE PART OF A BAD CHARACTER

Wednesday was being without any doubt the worst day of your week. Usually, you didn’t have problems in the bakery, but that day was hell. First, you had to deal with some painting in the door; you thought about calling Ubbe and ask him for help. He had told you in numerous occasions that he would be there for you always. But it was eight in the morning, and you knew the night before he had a party in the club; so you dealt with it yourself. After getting raw and bleeding hands from scrubbing so hard, the second problem appeared.

Since you came to Charming, the place next to your bakery had been closed. It was a small store that, in that moment, was being filled with a lot of boxes of something unknown for you. Whatever it was, it made people keep their distance; in all morning, you only had two customers, one of them being cheerful Hvitserk.

- Hey, Hvitty. -you smiled softly. -Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in days.

- I’ve been in charge of the porn studio. -the smile on his face tells you everything you need to know. -Turns out Margarethe can-

- Oh god, shut up! -you laughed.- I don’t want to hear what you do out there.

- Your miss, Y/N. -he smiled, walking to the kitchen. -This is too empty today, isn’t it?

- Yeah, I guess. -you shrugged. -I have a few things to do, so I kind of cheer to that. Have you had breakfast?

It was common for Hvitserk to appear in your bakery early in the morning. In the club, the most he could get was some coffee and, if he was lucky, a raw cookie. But when he came to the bakery, you spoiled him like a little kid, and he always ended up with stomach ache for eating so much. You kept talking to him as he stuffed his mouth with muffins.

- What’s on your hands? -he asked, looking down to your hands for the first time. They were still red and shaking; and they hurt so much you were finding it difficult to even make the dough of your new cake.

- Oh, I’ve been cleaning the door this morning. There were some paintings on it.

- That’s not from just some paintings. -he frowned. -It must have been big. Why didn’t you call us? I’m sure Ubbe would have rushed here in his pyjamas.

You blushed at his words, trying to hide a small smile. It was no secret to anyone who knew you that you liked Ubbe; and his little brother, who spent too much time with you, knew it better than anyone.

- I didn’t want to bother anyone. I could handle it alone.

- Yeah, sure. -he mocked. -You should probably have someone look at that hands.

- I’m fine, Hvitty. Really.

- Let me help you with that. -he got up from the shelf he was sitting in and, after putting the last piece of muffin on his mouth, walked towards you. -What are you doing?

- I’m not letting you near this. -you laughed, blocking the bowl with your body. -Last time I did, we had to use the fire extinguisher.

- Don’t remind me. -he scoffed. -I had Ubbe eating my ear for a week.

- You had it coming ac-

The sound of the little bell at your door interrupted you. Happily, you cleaned your hands with a rag and walked outside the kitchen. There were two options; it could be a costumer, who you would be more than happy to attend, or it could be Ubbe. If it was the last one, you day would get a lot better. But it wasn’t your bad biker who was on the door, neither some cute neighbour who came by to ask for some traits. In front of you stood a big man, you could even say an enormous one. He was nearly twice your height and nearly three times wider. What really scared you was the tattoos on his neck; they were all relate with the Nazis. He was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and black pants, making you think that, if that man gave you a swift kick, he could send you to another dimension.

You didn’t know how much time you spent staring at him when he finally spoke.

- Good morning. -his voice, as you had imagined, was deep and sent chills by your spine.

- H-hi. -you cleared your throat a bit. -How can I help you?

- Are you the owner of this place?

Usually, you were proud of you bakery. You always talked about it like it was your second child; behind Sully, of course. That time, when you nodded, you felt like it hadn’t been such a good idea. He smiled, like he had just received the best news of his life.

- We’re the owners of the shop next to you. -he said. -Just opened today, thought we could have a look around to see who’s going to be our neighbour.

- Oh, and what is your shop about? -you tried to smile but it felt forced even for you.

- Cigars, pures, that shit. I’m Weston, by the way. -he put an arm out for you.

- I’m Y/N, the owner of the bakery. -you took your hand in his, noticing how he used the opportunity to pull you a little closer. -If you need anything, you know where to find me.

- Actually I-

- Hey Y/N, I think I messed up the dough. -Hvitserk’s voice interrupted him.

Hvitserk got out of the kitchen with his hands stained with flour, his hair in a messy bun and with crumbs of cookies in his t-shirt. In any other occasion, you would have scolded him for touching what you told him not to, yet you were grateful for his appearance. Maybe he wasn’t Ubbe, but the SAMCRO’s vest was well known in all Charming.

- I thought you worked alone. -Weston’s voice made Hvitserk look up surprised. -And that the sons were only related with guns and scum, not with bakery.

- What are you doing here? -Hvitserk’s voice changed, loosing the soft tone he used with you. -Get the fuck out, man.

- Hey, I was just having a conversation with my neighbour! -he laughed. -Not that you would understand about business.

- I swear that if you don’t-

- What are you going to do, hm? -Weston moved forwards, and you found yourself nearly running behind Hvitserk. -Your black friends are going to come here and help you? Or have they run back to their country?

- You’re not welcomed here, Weston. -Hvitserk’s hand moved to his gun. -Not here, not in Charming.

- Too bad I already own a shop right next to your baker. -he raised a brow. -I’ve heard that she was Ubbe’s, but I guess you don’t mind sharing, do you?

- Have you not hear me? -Hvitserk moved and placed himself in front of Weston, not showing any fear. -Get. The fuck. Out of here. And don’t fucking come back.

- Whatever you say, big boy. -Weston said before winking at you. -See you later, Y/N.

Hvitserk scoffed when the door finally closed, turning to look at you. You were still in the same position, looking at him with a lot of questions in your eyes. Without making you wait longer he began talking.

Turned out, the sons had already met Weston. He was part of a supremacist white-power gang, similar to SAMCRO, who had just moved to Charming. Along with his mate Darby they had been giving problems to the sons for a while; they were racists, Nazis and all the bad things a person could be, so they had been messing around too much. A few weeks ago they had their first fight with the sons; Ubbe made sure they understood the message by killing two or three guys, and by taking their guns away. However, it seemed that it didn’t work so well on them.

- I think you should close for the day. -he gave you a half smirk. -I’m going to head to the porn studio to finish some things, but as soon as I get out, I’ll talk to my mom and to the guys, I promise.

- Okay. -you said. -Do…Is Ubbe busy?

- For you? My brother is never busy for you, Y/N. -Hvitserk laughed. -He could literally jump out of the window to see you.

- You’re an idiot, Hvitty. -you smiled. -I’ll close this up and take a free day. Do you think you can give me a ride?

While you turned everything off and closed the door, Hvitserk smoked outside. He was worried about Weston. Even if at first it hadn’t been a big threat to the club, he didn’t like the fact that he knew you were close to Ubbe. In the year you had been living there, everyone had taken a liking to you. So he didn’t like the idea of some supremacist idiots talking to you.

Hvitserk had brought the van with him. He was the only son who, although having a bike, preferred to use a car. The ride there was filled with laughs, jokes and a call to Ubbe where you asked him to go to your flat. The younger brother could hear his worried voice and caring tone through the phone, and rolled his eyes. After leaving you in your door and waiting for you to give him the thumbs up from the window, he left. A storm was coming and he was feeling it.

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

Ubbe had woken up early. Usually, he was the one closing after a party, or even sleeping in the couch with some random and nameless girl. He used to love going out until late nights, inviting all types of people and drinking and smoking the weirdest thing. But the previous night, as a girl from the porn studio called Margarethe was talking to him, he could only think about you. He had been busy with the supremacist white-power gang for a while, and he had been spending less time with you. So he decided to leave the girl mid-sentence and went to sleep. When he woke up, he made everything he needed to do so that he could be with you earlier. Until he got the call.

He was talking to his mother when his phone vibrated. At first, he smiled at your name, and he walked out of the room to talk to you. You weren’t the type of girl who asked for him; not that he didn’t like that, he loved it. Yet he found it strange that you were asking him to go to your flat. As the words “problems with some guys” left your mouth, he ran towards his bike and was in your apartment in less than five minutes. Ubbe jumped two stairs at a time, and finally knocked at your door a little too roughly. A happy barking Sully greeted him; but he could only focus on your fake smile.

- What has happened? -he asked as he pet Sully subconsciously. -Is Hvitserk still here? Has he waited-

- No, he isn’t. -you let out a soft laugh, playing with your hands that were hiding in the pocket of your sweatshirt. -And yes, he has waited until I’ve given him the thumbs up.

-�� He should have waited until I arrived. -Ubbe scoffed.

- Don’t be so harsh on him. -you smiled. -I told him to go.

- I’m being harsh on him because something could have happened. What if those guys had come back? Who were they by the way?

- I’ve prepared some hot chocolate. It’s pretty cold outside, why don’t we sit and we can talk? -before he answered, you spoke again. -I’ve put some cream on yours.

- You’re so good, darling.

He wrapped his arms around your body, noticing just then how tensed you were. You stood like that for a while, enjoying his lips on your head and his warmth. Maybe it was because of the weather or because of Weston’s eyes, but you were cold to the bone. Ubbe didn’t move neither, not even with Sully tried to fit between both of you.

- Everything’s going to be fine, Y/N. -Ubbe said, putting one hand behind your head, and pulling you closer. -I’m here now, nothing’s going to happen.

- I know. -you whispered.

His heart ached at your broken whisper, wanting nothing more than to ran towards whoever made you feel that way and stick his gun into his ass. However, he stayed with you; drank your hot chocolate and enjoyed your company while Sully slept at his feet. He listened to you as you talked about Weston and the bakery’s door.

- I… didn’t thought it was related. -you said as he held your hands, running his thumbs across your raw fingers.

- What was the paint about?

- Random things, but there were a lot of Nazis’ symbols. -you sighed. -Also, there were some rude comments about black people. I don’t- why would someone think like that, Ubbe? That’s not fair.

- They will be out of Charming before you know it, darling. -he smiled at you. -And from now on, I’ll have someone with you always, alright? If I’m not, then a prospect, Hvitserk or Tig will be.

- I’m sure they have better things to do.

- Better than keep you safe? Y/N, I won’t even need to tell them as a president. As soon as I say someone needs to watch over you, they will fight to see who is the lucky one.

- Aren’t you guys wonderful. -you laughed.

- Let me grab the first kid to put something on your hands, hm? -he said as he got up.

- Do you know where it is?

- Of course, darling. -he laughed. -I know this apartment too well by now.

As he walked to the bathroom, he could hear Sully’s paws behind him. The dog loved Ubbe as much as her owner. It had often ended in a playful argument between you and Ubbe, where he joked with you about how Sully was going to leave one day with him. He smiled as he put out the little box, thinking about your conversations. For an unknown reason to him, the conversation flowed randomly with you. You could be talking about serious matters like his club and the next second he would be laughing at something terrible you said. And he loved that.

When he came back, you were trying to put a film on the TV. He found cute how you frowned and crumpled your mouth while you were concentrated on something. Ubbe tapped your head softly and gripped your hands between his. There was a comfortable silence as he cleaned your sore fingers, putting your skinned fingers in some band aids.

- I know what you’re going to say. -you said softly; you were so close that he could feel your breath on his face.

- You should have called me, Y/N. You know I can drop anything if you need me.

- Yeah, but I wanted to do it for myself. -you shrugged. -Do you think you can come with me to the bakery after lunch?

- What? -you said it so low that he didn’t hear you.

- I said that, if you don’t mind, I would like if you would come with me to the bakery. -you sighed. -I-I’ve left a lot of things undone, and this guys are-

- Of course darling. -Ubbe winked at you. -Don’t worry, I’ve some paperwork to do and I can do it there.

- Thanks, Ubbe.

- This is done. -he gave your hands a kiss before pulling back, watching you blush. -You want to go now? We can finish early and have dinner together.

You nodded softly before getting up. Sully trailed behind you, whining as if she knew her owner was leaving. After replacing her bowl of food and water, you walked towards the door where Ubbe was holding up your coat. Something in him made you act; maybe it was his sided smile, his baby blue eyes looking at you with love or the way he always seemed to care for you. It didn’t matter what it was; it made you put your arms around his shoulders and place your lips against his.

Ubbe was still at first, with his eyes open and his heart jumping on his chest. He begged to his brain to do something, but his body was unresponsive. The only thing he could focus was on your hands in the back of his neck and your lips moving against his. Just when you pulled back and looked down, he regained control. Ubbe took you by the waist and kissed you so hard you stumbled over your own feet. His kiss was nothing like yours; while yours was soft and almost shy, his was nearly bruising. The kiss lasted a few minutes, and when you finally teared apart, you kept looking at his eyes with a silly smile.

- I can’t believe I’ve waited so long for this. -he said, not letting you go.

- Well. -you let out a little laugh. -Actually, it was me-

Your words were drowned by his lips again, and you felt him smirking against you. Seemed like, the bakery would have to wait.

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Two weeks passed by and things didn’t calm down. Next to your bakery, Weston’s business was making sure no black neither Jewish people walked around the shop. You had been witness of a few fights between them and Weston or Darby; a man as disgusting as his friend. In all of them, the son who was with you stopped you from doing something. You were visibly sadder each day, watching how those pricks were ruining the city and your bakery. The only thing that could cheer you was Ubbe.

Since your kiss, he had been spending much more time with you. With the excuse of you needing protection, he spent almost all day in the bakery (and if he wasn’t there, Hvitserk or the prospect was). Ubbe was already living in your house. Those nights when he would stay, he usually slept in the couch; but lately he had been keeping your bed warm, not that you were complaining.

That day had been quiet, as always. People didn’t come to your bakery so much, because they were afraid of Weston and his friends. That didn’t mean you were loosing money; thanks to the club, you had started a delivery service and it was quiet successful. The only problem was that you spent all day in the kitchen.

- Can you pass me the cream, Ubbe? -you asked without looking at him. He was reading some papers on a desk that the boys had moved to your kitchen, so that he could be with you. -Ubbe?

You turned around to look at your biker, who was reading a grey paper with a frown on his face. One of his hands was on his bear, and the other was tapping the desk with a pencil. After calling him one more time and not getting any response, you walked towards him. You put your hands on his shoulders and neck, massaging them slowly.

- Don’t you dare to stop. -he almost moaned. -That hands are a blessing, darling.

- You’re lucky I’m a baker. -you laughed. -What are you so worked up about?

- See this papers? -Ubbe pointed at a file with too many letters. -We were supposed to rent this warehouse last month, but the owner is a pain in the ass. He has sent me the papers but he has forgotten to ask the mayor to sign them.

- Go and ask him yourself. -you moved and sat in the desk.

- Yeah, no thank you. The sons are not the bests friends of the mayor right now. -he scoffed, placing a hand on your knee. -And not everyone is as nice as you with us.

- You’re not bad people Ubbe. -you smiled and put your hand over his. -You are protecting this town, and that’s good.

- Killing and threatening is not from good people, Y/N. -he laughed.

- At least you don’t sell drugs? -you joked.

- Do you think that selling drugs is the top of bad people?

- I think that you’re a good person and nothing is going to change that. -you said.

Ubbe looked at you for a while, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He still didn’t know what he did to deserve you, such a pure and innocent human being who still had faith in him. It felt like the universe had finally given him something good. He got up and pushed himself between your legs, your face being a few inches from his. Instead of kissing you, he placed one hand on your face, wiping a stray of flour off it.

- Maybe is a little soon to say it. -Ubbe whispered, looking between your eyes and your mouth. -But I love you. And you don’t have to say it back y-

- I love you too. -you smiled. -Think I’ve loved you since you came here stalking me.

- Oh, you sure I was stalking you? -he laughed. -Because you gave me free access to your kitchen the second I stepped here.

- Guess your looks of bad boy didn’t work with me.

- God, I love you darling. -he pressed a quick kiss to your lips. -I love you so much.

A little giggle left your lips, and you kissed him again. The hand that was on your face moved to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss, and the other one placed itself in your lower back. You hugged his shoulders and practically hang onto him like a Koala. You had discovered in the past two weeks that your favourite place in earth was between Ubbe’s arms. The way he would engulf you and his lips would fit perfectly in your make you weak in the knees. You were both ready to tear each other’s clothes apart when an awkward cough interrupted you.

Halfsack, the new prospect, was blushing like crazy on the door. You had met him not so long ago, and you regretted asking him about his name; surely, the boy didn’t have any repair into talking about how he nearly lost his dick. That earned him an angry Ubbe chasing him for telling you about it, so the boy was already awkward towards you. After interrupting your make out session, you were sure he wouldn’t talk to you anymore.

- What the fuck are you doing here? -Ubbe groaned, hiding his face in your neck. -I left everything solved this morning.

- Your… mother has heard about the warehouse. Ubbe. President. Sir. -he scratched the back of his neck. -Want you to go to the townhall today, so she sent me here to look over Y/N.

- You can tell her to-

- Hey, you should you. -you interrupted him, smiling softly. -If you don’t, your mother will come barging here. And I think she doesn’t like me already.

- It’s not like that, she’s special.

- Ubbe, let’s not give her another reason to hate me more. -you laughed. -Come on, I’m almost finished here. I’ll close soon and wait for you in my apartment.

- I’ll bring take out. -he pecked your lips. -Promise won’t be long. Halfsack?

- Y-yeah?

- You don’t fucking leave her alone until I get there. -he glared at him. -Unless you want to lose your other testicle, got me?

- O-of course! -he laughed awkwardly.

With a final kiss and a soft smack to your ass, Ubbe left the bakery as he put his helmet on. You went back to your task; finishing the cake for the wedding of Mrs Lowman’s son. She was supposed to pass by that day to collect it, yet she was late. You couldn’t really blame her. Mrs Lowman was a lovely and kind woman, a black one. For you it wasn’t a problem, and it shouldn’t be to anyone; yet for your neighbours it was, and she was kind of scared. You had told her that you could make one of the sons take the cake to her apartment, yet she told you she wanted to collect it herself.

You were working extra hard on it. She had been one of your first costumers and always gave you a tip when she bought something; so you made the perfect cake with the help of Halfsack, who could barely look at you in the eye. It was nearly closing time when you finished. A three-tier cake with a cute weeding couple on the top. You were cleaning the last bowl when you heard some noises outside. Halfsack ordered/begged you with his eyes to stay inside, yet the second time someone screamed you poked out of the door.

What you saw made your heart drop to the floor. Mrs Lowman had a bleeding head with a huge gash on it, and she was on the floor trying to avoid the kicks of Weston. Halfsack was just a few steps away, trying to get past Darby who was pushing him backwards roughly while laughing. Some people stopped by to see what was happening, yet none of them did anything. Because they knew that if they did, they would probably end up dead.

- Hey! -you opened the door fully, more angry than scared. -Hey, that’s not nice! Stop!

You tried to push back Weston from the crying Mrs Lowman, who was only a whimpering mess by then. However, the man was ten time stronger than you, and it only took a swift push to get you on the ground.

- Why don’t you mind your own business? -he gave you an angry glare. -Go back to sucking your white boy’s dick.

- You can’t kick people like that. -you said as you got up. -She has done nothing wrong!

- Black people are the sickness of this country, love. -Darby laughed. -You’re right, the only thing she has done wrong is fucking breathing!

A chorus of laughs followed those crude words. You realised then that Darby and Weston weren’t the only assholes there; between the people looking at the madness, there were at least four more guys with Nazi’s symbols tattooed. There was a moment were the only thing you could hear was Mrs Lowman’s cries, Halfsack’s warnings and that cruel laughs. You weren’t an aggressive person, everyone knew you as the sweet baker, and you were happy with that. But in that moment, your hands moved by themselves; and the next moment, you had a broken bowl in your right hand and a bleeding Weston in the floor.

- Oh, God! -Weston screamed. -I think I fucking got a piece of glass in my eye!

- The bitch broke the bowl on his head! -one of the boys said, and you found yourself in an iron grip by your arm.

- I-I…it w-wasn’t my-y intention, I j-just -you words were messing with each other, and tears were filling your eyes; because the hard grip on your arm or the fact that you had just hit a man, you didn’t know.

- You what?! You didn’t mean it?! -Darby, who was the one shaking you roughly, spat at your face.

- Come on, man, leave her alone. -Halfsack begged, as he was being held back by two guys. -She has nothing to do with this!

- Are you blind? -scoffed the tallest one. -Look at Weston! He has his head open up!

The rest of the voices got muffled off by a white noise and a big pain on your cheek, that made you fall back and nearly crush Mrs Lowman. Before you could think about moving, Darby’s hand grabbed you up again.

- Now you’re crying? -he laughed at your face. -You’re pathetic, just like the black scum.

- You know what we should do? -an angry looking Weston got up, holding a bleeding head. -We should fucking burn her in the oven, like the Jews.

- W-what? -you started thrashing around, not liking the smirks on their faces. -What are you talking about?

- Oh, you don’t know about what Hitler made with the Jews? -Darby laughed. -Maybe Weston’s right, they were whiny bitches and so are you.

- No, no plea-ase! -you tried to get free while they dragged you inside the bakery. -You-u’re insane!

Two guys kept kicking Mrs Lowman who had found strength enough to beg them to let you go, that you had done nothing wrong; they didn’t listen to her, but smashed her head in the pavement so hard you stopped hearing her screams. Halfsack was quick enough to get free and get out his gun. You saw as he shot two of the guys and aimed towards Darby, and you almost smiled in relived.

However, it was cut short when a new man, twice the size of Halfsack, shot him in the back. It was not only one shot; you had to stay put and see how that man shot him at least ten times and how the life left his eyes. As you sobbed, Darby held your chin and made you look at it.

- You see that? That’s your fucking fault. -he was gripping your chin so hard you swore it would bruise. -If you had just stayed like a good whore baking, this wouldn’t have happened. That’s what happen when women get out of the kitchen.

The tears were falling uncontrollably down your cheeks, and you were shaking between Darcy’s arms. His laugh filled your ears until you heard a motorbike. At first, you thought you were wrong; but the panicked face of Weston told you everything you needed to know. Your bad biker was there and he was more than angry.

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