#why is this show so dark and so low res jesus christ

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

I can help. I can show you how to trick the machine.

The Americans: Arpanet (2.07)

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, MHA 265, Replies Part 1

1) “HEEEEY- IT`S FAT AND AMAJIKI, AND MY BOI CROWBOI. THE GANG`S ALL HERE, ALL ACCORDING TO KEIKAKU*”- I swear, for a hot minute I thought they were calling out for Koichi before I noticed the translation. Though, his name being so similar does make sense, since his usual go-to strategy is to hold the line until a hero comes around to sort the problem out. 2) “Oh right, we`re in the middle of the Overlook raid, and all the baddies are left underground, to suffocate and slowly cannibalize each other, or dare to go upstairs and be murdered.”- Well, they’re only trapped in there as long as it takes somebody to figure out a way to give the doomsday knockoff an order he can interpret as coming from Tomura. It’d be almost hilarious if the situation wasn’t so perilous, a being of possibly All Might-like power and endurance contained in the basement and held back from attacking the heroes by the flimsiest of tethers, and they have no idea about him. Gran Torino got a glimpse of his power back when arresting Kurogiri, but none of the heroes at the lodge have any inkling of what he can do when he gets going. He’s a walking ‘Uno Reverse’ card waiting to strike, and the only hope the heroes have is that only a certain player in the game can put him into action… 3) “And apparently we`ll have to wait a bit longer until we can have some closure on all that shit going on with Hawks, now we`re back to murdering low-level criminals outside.”- There’s a lot of orbiting plotlines going on in this operation simultaneously, sometimes running into each other or overlapping if a big enough event occurs. Personally, overall I feel it’s doing a good job of keeping the chaotic flow going, focusing on the major points whilst leaving a lot of room for expansion in some lesser fight scenes as needed. 4) “OH, AND RIGHT OUT OF THE GATE MY EMO KID IS GOING TO SHINE, TIME FOR BOCCHI`S GRANDKID TO SHOW WHY HE`S A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH”- None are prepared for the majesty of the fruit centaur. 5) “OH JESUS CHRIST AMAJIKI

ARE THOSE PINEAPPLES AND DURIANS AT THE END OF YOUR WHIPS?

JESUS THAT IS ABSOLUTELY BRUTAL. NEXT THING YOU`LL PUT THEM ON A PIZZA, THEN I`LL KNOW THAT YOU`RE NOT HERE TO BE MERCIFUL”- I think those are actually Durians. You know, the type of fruit that smalls like raw sewage washed with refined fertiliser once you crack open the hard-outer shells. Any poor bastard who got hit with one of those in the face would soon be wishing they were dead if the spiky flail burst open. 6) “Now let your goth brother do his thing, Tokoyami is gonna invoke the nightmare of ebony darkness dementia raven way and obliterate the whole hotel.”- If not for the sunlight angle for the above-ground sections, Tokoyami’s power level when using Ragnarok is easily capable actually doing that. Boy went for a line-backer tackle against MHA’s version of the Hulk and actually won out, even if on a technicality. 7) “Alright, that one goes to the impressive displays of powers, that`s for sure, but unfortunately the big boss is here to block your way

well, I mean, your mission was to block this way, but he`s gonna block you from blocking- you got the idea, let`s see the forces of Darkness and the forces of Evil clashing, alright?”- Avian darkness vs Abs of rage. Bird wins, K.O.

8) “JESUS CHRIST KID HOW FUCKING STRONG DID YOU GOT WHEN I WASN`T LOOKING? REDESTRO WAS EVEN AT FULL STRESS POWER! SURE, YOU CAN ARGUE THAT HE ONLY MANAGED TO PUSH HIM BACK BECAUSE HIS PROSTHETIC SNAPPED, BUT EVEN SO, FOR THAT TO HAPPEN TOKOYAMI HAD TO PRESS HIM ENOUGH TO BREAK THE LEG, OTHERWISE REDESTRO WOULD`VE KEPT AN ANGLE THAT WOULDN`T FORCE IT THAT MUCH”- Ragnarok draws power from the darkness itself and doesn’t seem to take any physical strain out of Tokoyami himself when using it- the main issue was that it becomes more strong-willed and free-minded in dark areas, and so is at risk on turning on the heroes as well. Pointing it straight down at a room full of villains in pitch darkness was like firing a massive cannon at them- done properly, the recoil on the shooter was minimal, whilst the projectile only gains speed and force the further it goes. And it says a lot about Machia’s power level that even in this state, Ragnarok just Nope’d out of there rather than risk aggravating him or making him retaliate.

9) ““NEARLY STOOD UP” YEAH TOKOYAMI, THAT`S A BIT OF UNDERSTATEMENT, EVEN IF HADN`T PROSTHETICS I THINK THAT REDESTRO WOULDN`T STAND A CHANCE AGAINST ALL THAT POWER”-Redestro might have been able to better block Ragnarok’s charge or perhaps even deflect it away if he’d been better able to endure the pressure, but steel replacements simply can’t compare to his lifetime of training his body and mind to withstand immense stress.

10) “OH MY FUCKING GOD IS THAT FATGUM TRANSPORTING TOKOYAMI LIKE A GODDAMN KANGAROO? AM I SEEING THIS RIGHT?”- Behold: The Fataxi! Comes with inbuilt airbags to ensure safe passage of occupants from location to location.

11) “TOKOYAMI PLEASE I CAN`T TAKE ANY OF THIS CONVERSATION SERIOUSLY WHILE YOU`RE LIKE THIS”- It’s nice that the heroes, whilst still having kids on the frontlines, are still going the extra mile to make sure they’re not too involved with the potentially dangerous stuff up-close. Tokoyami and Kaminari’s presence was mainly being uses as a long-range shield and attack option, and it’s the pro heroes who are tackling the villains first and foremost whilst the younger kids play clean-up swiftly behind them. Now that his role is dome, Fatgum’s next job is being a safe escort for Tokoyami out of the danger zone before turning his attention towards capturing any villains. The heroes might have needed all the aid they could get, but they’re still not going to place the kids in excessive danger intentionally.

12) “And boy this is going exactly as badly as I`d expect, Twice duplicates at a frightening speed, but he`s not able to keep up. Hawks is too fast with his feathers, and he just needs a single hit to cut one of the clones. Twice is not at the right mental state to be able to overpower him in numbers, this is not going to end well. I`m starting to get afraid that eventually Hawks will aim at the wrong target and hit the real one instead of a clone.”- If the issue with Twice’s duplication is ‘numbers’ then countering that with swifter ‘speed’ before said numbers exceed a certain threshold is the only option, not unlike space invaders. Since the heroes don’t have somebody like All Might who can combine massive force with equal speed, ambushing Twice and intentionally preventing him from gathering enough clones/momentum behind him is the only relaisitc option to neutralising him, either non-lethally, or permanently. If Hawks hits the real Twice in this fight, it will not have been an accident, but nothing less will stop this man powered by friendship anymore. @thelreads

[greta-van-chaos]

Come Out and Play

Jake Kiszka x Reader

Warnings | Explicit sexual content, cursing, unprotected sex, the sweetest fucking smut ever you're gonna want to claw out your eyes, pining i guess?

Word Count | 3.1k words

Authors Note | Hey hey hey there, it's been a while... clearly taking hiatuses is gonna be a thing with me so haha oops but anyways, i'm gonna work through all of my requests and half written works now until i need to material! this one hurt so much to write... hope it doesn't hurt as much to read.

~

To say you have a crush on Jake is an understatement. You are completely and utterly in love with him and you've known it from the very first second you ever laid eyes on him. Jake is kind and generous, always putting others before him while asking for nothing in return. He's insanely talented and intelligent, just the sweetest human being to ever grace this earth. We also must not let the elephant in the room go unnoticed... he's breathtakingly beautiful.

You met the Kiszkas in highschool and grew attached to each in their own way. You and Josh enjoy picking apart obscure films and music, whereas you and Sammy prefer to explore the outdoors and get into the occasional bout of trouble. Danny, practically a Kiszka himself also grew quite close to you, allowing you to be more emotional and vulnerable with him when you can't find solace in the outrageously energetic brothers.

But Jake, Jake is different. You formed a very close bond through music, guitar specifically. It was like sparks flew the very moment you met and began to hang out, slowly finding out how much you had in common and how exciting it was to be able to share such thinly found interests. You fell fast and hard, drawn in by every single part of him, his personality, his wit, his looks, his talent, the way he speaks, the way he walks... everything.

Over the years your crush grew alongside you, developing into the most intense form of love you've ever felt for another person. Why you didn't just come clean and hope the best early on is beyond you because seeing him with the revolving door of girlfriends - which was bound to happen, let's be honest here - not only made you jealous but it hurt you so deeply knowing that it wasn't you he wanted.

Staring at him from across the living room you can't help but study every single feature. You've done it a thousand times but it never seems to grow old, even with how dark the room is you can't help yourself from searching his dimly lit face. He's watching the tv, eyes half-lidded with a sleepy smile on his face, the show he's watching proves to be decent entertainment based on the low rumble of a laugh that grows in his chest every few minutes.

"You might as well take a picture," Danny whispers as he plops down on the couch next to you. Jake, Josh and, Sam have all squeezed in together on the couch opposite you.

"Oh shut up." You slap his arm and cross your own over your chest, moving your eyes back to the tv. After a moment of silence you turn back to him, "It's so bad, Danny... I don't know what to do." Your eyes meet in the darkened room and your nerves ease, Danny is your happy place when you feel like this.

"Why don't you just tell him, then at least it's out in the open." He lowers his voice even further to say this, making sure to keep your secret hidden from the others in the room.

"If he rejects me there's no coming back from it. I think i can go another decade acting like I don't want to marry him and have his kids."

"Jesus Christ y/n" Danny's laugh is so loud that Josh turns his head sharply and he shushes you louder than what could ever be deemed necessary. Lowering his voice Danny's leans down to your ear, "He won't reject you, I know it." That ends conversation, Danny turning away and placing a reassuring hand on your knee.

Within the next ten minutes everyone has made their way upstairs except for you and of course, Jake. You'd wandered into the kitchen to get a glass of water when the episode ended and when you returned he was the only person who remained. Your stomach churned.

"Where did everyone go?" You ask, trying to start up a semi-casual conversation but somehow you know Jake senses your unease. The tension coils, making your chest so goddamn tight you can barely breathe.

"Danny and Sam went to go play some videogames in the attic, Josh went to sleep."

"And what about you?" Your eyes flick to meet his for a brief moment and it's enough to rob you of any and all air your lungs could ever pull in.

"I'm probably gonna go listen to some records, you're welcome to join me."

"I'd really like that."

Something about the short distance between the living room and the stairs to Jake's bedroom makes you queasy. When he stands up you can't help it when his name tumbles past your lips and he turns to look at you.

"Yes?" His eyes show mild concern but he does well to mask it on the rest of his face.

"I need to-- Fuck..." You look down at your feet and laugh humorlessly, why are you doing this right now?

"Is everything okay?"

The dam breaks, you're not sure how or why now is the time to do it but before you can stop yourself you look him dead in the eyes. "I'm in love with you."

The entire house goes silent. It's as if you've fallen off the earth and into a pit of nothingness. His expression is eerily blank and his body is stiff.

"Jake?" You're almost afraid that if you speak too loud he'll shatter like a porcelain dish hitting kitchen tiles.

Still he doesn't speak but then his expression changes, you can only register it for a second before he breaks the silence.

"You never said anything." He says it without malice or anger, only a general observation with a tinge of disappointment.

"I was afraid," You breathe.

"Why?" He looks a little hurt and now your mind is reeling. This is not how you expected this conversation to go at all. Maybe he'd laugh, maybe he would pretend he didn't hear you and walk away, but the look on his face right now... you never would have expected to see that.

"Isn't it obvious? You're way out of my league Jake. I know the type of girls you date, they're nothing like me."

"That's always been the problem." He murmurs but instead of trusting what your ears have heard you sigh.

"I just needed you to know." You match his volume, practically breathing out the words while you fight the urge to cry.

He doesn't speak and you're guessing this is where he walks away, leaving you to sit in your little bubble of rejection, so when he steps towards you you're barely prepared and have you steady yourself by placing your palms on his chest.

"Do you remember the first day of grade nine?" He whispers, pushing you hair over your shoulder.

"Of course I do, we managed to have every single class together first semester and we took the same bus. It was a super weird first day, I saw you everywhere." Your body is trembling against him and he smirks taking your chin and tilting your head up so he has better access to your lips. Yet he doesn't move in.

"That's right and on the way home you--"

You cut him off, drunk on how close your mouths are "--I shared my headphones with you. You told me I was the first person you met that listened to classic rock and that I was the coolest girl in school."

His other hand is now gripping your hip, pulling your body flush against his and without knowing it your hands have found home in his hair. You try to pull him closer but he still doesn't relent.

"I feel the same way about you, y/n"

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" The proximity of his lips to yours is dizzying, you can barely focus on the words coming out of your mouth. A small whine escapes you when the hand holding your chin moves to cradle the back of your neck.

"I guess I was afraid too... you're too good. Always have been, always will be."

The only word you can manage is his name and it fans across his lips, willing him to lean in and close the distance.

When he finally does let his lips meet yours it's sweet and slow, your mouths exploring the new territory and mapping it as carefully as you can, preserving the moment. It feels like pure light is dancing beneath your skin, warming you from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes and the way he's holding you is enough to make you cry. He's being gentle yet holding you so firmly, with so much purpose. It's better than you could have imagined.

Eventually your hands become frantic, gripping his hair, his shirt, his face. You just want him close, as close as you can possibly get him. He pulls away to observe your you and the way his sleepy eyes are cast over your lips makes you melt.

"Please, Jake." You waited so long for this that you would beg until your voice grew hoarse. You want him and you aren't ashamed of it. You try to lead him to the couch but he pulls away again.

"Not here, lets go to my room."

When he offers his hand you take it quickly, allowing him to lead you upstairs to his bedroom. You both go up quietly but when you reach the door Jake pushes you up against it. Apparently he couldn't wait until you were safely inside, tucked away from the possibility of the boys coming out to interrupt.

His hands are holding you still against the door and his lips are attacking your throat. You can only loop your arms around his neck and try to stifle your moans.

Eventually he reaches for the door handle and wraps an arm around you so you don't fall over when it opens. Jake's room is the same as it's always been. Guitar gear strewn all over the floor and atop every surface he could find. There are a handful of oddly placed posters on the walls and ceiling and so many bookshelves its hard to count. It all brings a huge smile to your face.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" When you turn back to the him the door is closed and he looks nervous, cheeks pink and eyes downcast.

You approach him and take his face in your hands, placing a sweet kiss on his lips, "I've never been more sure in my life."

He smiles and your knees almost give out. He's everything you've ever wanted and more.

Jake backs you up, carefully directing you until the backs of your knees hit the bed. You let him lay you down and he kisses you until your down on the mattress. He's trying to be soft and careful but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he's itching to have his hands on every part of you he possibly can.

"You can touch me, Jake. I want you to." You take his hands in yours and guide them to your breasts. He's tentative at first, just getting used to being able to touch you but then he starts kissing you again and his hands travel down your stomach to the band of your pajama pants. You whimper out a plea and he answers by letting his fingers fall further, under the fabric of your pants. They now dance along the edge of your underwear, featherlight.

"Have you thought about this a lot?" He whispers into your neck, "Thought about me touching you here?"

"Yes, Jake. So many nights-- I--"

His hand dips further and your breath catches in your throat when he runs his fingers through your folds.

"Oh my god--" He closes his eyes and withdraws his hand "You're so wet, is this all for me?"

You nod and bite your lip, watching as he slips the very fingers that were just caressing you in a place you never thought they'd venture, into his mouth. Your body acts by itself, lacing your fingers into his hair and pulling his mouth back to yours. You could almost cry, you're so happy, so completely full of love for the man above you. Never could you have imagined that all of your wildest dreams would come true like this... so goddamn easily.

You claw at his shirt, your fingers unable to move as fast as your brain as you try to pull it over his head. He helps you out, sitting back on his knees to remove the fabric. With his chest on display your body goes warm. You sit up and run your hands down his sides, placing kisses to each collarbones and down his sternum to his stomach. A quiet moan shakes out of his when you kiss below his navel, letting your hands work to pull down his pants.

"I've thought about it too, y'know." He says, breaking the haze a little bit to look you in the eyes, nothing but sincerity on his face.

"I really can't believe it Jake... I've spent so long--" You clear your throat, biting back the tears that have been waiting all night to fall. You refuse to let that happen right now. Settling on your words, you speak again, "I have been so in love with you for so long."

"I wish we didn't waste so much time dancing around this." He frowns, caressing your cheek.

"But we're here now. Together. So let's just focus on that." You finally manage to untie the knot in the strings of his pajama pants and pull them down along with his boxers.

The sight of him naked is enough to make you clench your thighs together and your cheeks to go hot. Although Jake is currently between your open legs, keeping them from closing.

"I think this can come off now," He mumbles as he pulls your own shirt over your head. His eyes go wide at the sight of your bare chest and it actually takes him a few minutes to recover.

"You alright, Jakey?" You tease. He huffs a laugh and continues on with removing your clothes, now sliding off your pants and underwear.

Finally, neither of you have a single scrap of clothing on and can admire each other. Jake is so transfixed by the way you look, spread out beneath him that you have run a hand down his arm and whisper his name to get his attention.

"Please don't make me wait any longer." You whine, pulling him in for yet another kiss, although this one is so incredibly gentle that it feels like the first.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Jake places a kiss to your forehead and lines himself up. It's all so intimate, so many feelings are being given closure tonight. You're overwhelmed but it's so worth it to be in the position you are.

He's about to push into you when you look him in the eyes again for the second time tonight and blurt out the words you've been waiting so long to say. "I love you, Jake."

"God--" He hangs his head and laughs, though it holds no humor, it sounds almost pained. When he meets your eyes again they're glassy and you almost regret your words before he speaks again, "I have never loved another as much as I love you."

The rush of adoration causes you to practically lunge forward and you wrap your arms around him, pressing your lips to his, hard. He slowly fits himself into you to a hilt as he kisses you. You're both panting, chests meeting heavily with every breathe. So many years of unspoken words and emotions are unspooling between your bodies. So many years of wanting and hurt, all for it to be put at ease with one single sentence.

He's slow and gentle, feeling every inch of you as if to memorize it all tonight. You continue to kiss, not willing to let each other go in any capacity. The tenderness of it all, the meaning behind the movements of your bodies, it make everything so bright, so vivid.

"Jake-- I need you-- Please--"

"You've got me, love, you've got me--" His words are whispered in your ear before he nuzzles his face into your neck and picks up the pace of his movements.

Already you're writhing and unravelling beneath him, your hips pumping furiously to meet his. Any care you had for the other occupants of the house hearing you have been thrown out the window. You're so transfixed by each other that you couldn't bear to have another thought in your head other than Jake.

The sounds he's drawing out of you are that of which no other love could achieve. You've never felt like this before, not once and now that you have, you're addicted. Although haven't you always been? Jake has always been different, always made you feel like no one else has.

You smile, closing your eyes and getting lost in the rhythm of his thrusts and the bliss of the puzzle pieces finally falling into place. Hot tears begin to fall down your cheeks as you toe the edge of your orgasm, all of the feelings welling and threatening to completely shatter you.

"I'm so close, Jake--" You pant, digging your nails into his back when he bites your shoulder to stifle a groan.

"I wanna hear you-- let go for me and let me hear how pretty you sound--" His words are all broken from how intensely he's chasing his own release and it pushes you over the edge.

Somehow you both managed to cum in tandem, your moans and heavy breathes falling into sync with one another. He carefully lays on top of you, not ready to remove himself yet.

You both just lay there, quietly. You draw shapes on his back with your fingertips and he caresses your arm, occasionally placing the odd kiss to your shoulder and neck.

After a few more beats of silence he lifts up his head to look at you, "So, what changed?"

You look down at him, confusion evident on your face. "What do you mean?"

"What made you tell me, what made this the right time?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I'd say Danny encouraged me but... he's been encouraging me since the beginning." You play your fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes, leaning into the feeling. "It just felt right."

"I'm glad you did. I was so worried I'd lose you if I said anything."

"Never, Jake. Never. I'm with you forever, no matter what."

He nods in agreement and props himself up on his elbows so he can kiss you. For the rest of the night you stay cuddled up under the covers, reminiscing and catching up on all the missed time.

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[lumosinlove]

Day Four: 12/17/20

On the fourth day of Ficmas, Hazel gave to thee, Sweater Weather behind the scenes!

Sweater Weather Outtakes. Sometimes I changed it because I feel like the pacing was off, which is the case in the first big chunk, and sometimes I changed it because I just wanted the plot to be different. I wrote a lot of the end of Sweater Weather in the very beginning before most of the fic was even written, just musing to myself about my boys winning the Cup. Enjoy!

TW: Mentions of being outed.

(This takes place right after they were outed.)

Sirius was doing something wrong, and that was not calling Remus for two days.

Sirius stood. “So, we’re settled.”

Alice nodded. “We have our plan. Now, as Arthur says, we just have to wait for a few punches. Good thing you’re familiar with those.”

Arthur stood, too, and slapped Sirius on the back. “I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve let no one own you, and that’s hard for someone in your position. You’ve come a long way. See you on TV, eh?”

Sirius glanced at Remus, who was talking to Alice as they walked out of Coach’s office and into the hallway. “It hasn’t been without help. Merci, Coach. For everything.”

Sirius ducked out into the hallway, half expecting to find Remus gone, disappeared, to find all of this not real. He felt like he was floating above everything, dreading the comments that he knew to expect from others, kicking himself for running, fighting to be brave about it all.

Sirius had a lot of people making decisions for him.

This one was for him to make.

There Remus was, back turned, watching Alice disappear back into her office.

Sirius’ heart pounded as he reached out and lay a gentle hand on Remus’ back. He felt like he was going to collapse with it, with wanting to be alone with him, to say he was sorry, to say how thankful he was to have him. Remus turned and looked at him, face soft. He looked as tired as Sirius felt.

“Come with me?” Sirius asked.

Remus nodded hurriedly and Sirius followed Remus towards the quiet room, where they seemed to be just making memory after memory. Remus shut the door and stayed against it for a moment, hands on the smooth wood.

Sirius took a few quick, nervous breaths. Looking at Remus, he was done trying to protect the both of them by pushing him away. He hurt without Remus and, by the set of Remus’ shoulders, he felt the same.

“Remus,” Sirius stepped forward, and Remus turned.

“I don’t care if I get fired,” Remus said suddenly, all in one breath, back against the door. “I want you. I care about you. Sirius, do whatever you need to, just talk to me about it so I can do what I need to—”

Sirius strode forward and took Remus’ face in his hands. Remus sank into his touch, like it pulled the tension coiled in his muscles. Like it was all he needed.

“I’m scared of a lot of things right now,” Sirius whispered, thumbs stroking across Remus’ cheeks. “But I’m the most scared of losing you.”

Remus’ lip shook, and he brought his hands up to hold Sirius’. “You are?”

Sirius hated that Remus even questioned it. He couldn’t seem to get close enough, pressing them together, feeling Remus’ warmth through his t-shirt.

“Remember what you said? What you said about people who told me I wasn’t good enough?”

Remus’ hands tightened around his wrists, eyes filling. He nodded. “I’d make you forget.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Sirius said softly. “But I didn’t need you to make me forget.” He stroked his thumbs through the slow tears that blinked down Remus’ cheeks. “I needed you, so I could see that they were wrong.”

Remus let out a tear filled breath, curving a hand around the back of Sirius’ neck.

“Re,” Sirius whispered, brushing their noses together. “I see now.”

Remus let out a laugh, half sob. “C’est l’heure?” He twisted his wrist, making his watch flash in the dim light. It’s time? he had asked.

Sirius smiled, tears in his throat, relief in his chest. “Oui, mon vœu.”

Remus pressed up onto his toes and kissed Sirius hard, breath hitching. Sirius let Remus clutch him close, craving the feeling of him after what felt like so long. He wrapped him up, his strong shoulders and slim waist, and buried his nose in his hair, breathing in.

They stayed like that, kissing and close in the semi-darkness. It didn’t matter if anyone walked in, Sirius suddenly realized with a thrill. It didn’t matter at all. He could hold Remus like this in the middle of the street if he wanted. His mother’s face flashed in his mind. The image of a burning jersey, his burning jersey. A chill crept in, but he pushed it back, holding Remus’ warmth closer. He was leaving tonight. He needed all the warmth he could get. It was as if Remus remembered, too, because then he was pulling back and pressing kiss after kiss to Sirius’ mouth, to his cheeks and jaw.

“I’ll miss you,” Sirius whispered. “I wish you were coming with me.”

Remus tucked his face into Sirius’ neck, hands locked around Sirius’ waist, resting at the base of his spine. “Me too.”

“My mother will be there,” Sirius’ voice shook despite himself. “Because my brother.”

“Maybe…” Remus pulled back just enough to look at Sirius. “Maybe it will help to see her. To talk to her. Maybe it will show you that she really has no say in your life. Not anymore.”

Sirius nodded. “I think, maybe, but I also…When I see her, I can’t help it, I get all…”

“Aw, baby,” Remus sighed and pressed his cheek to Sirius’ chest.

“What about you, your family? Have you talked to them?”

Remus made a guilty noise. “I texted them…I don’t know why, I just—I wanted to sort things out with you first. I couldn’t think about anything but you.”

“Remus,” Sirius sighed. “Merde, you’re so…this happened to you, too. How are you, mon loup?”

“Worried about you,” Remus laughed and then pressed his forehead to Sirius’ chest before looking up at him. “I’m…I’m actually okay. This isn’t how I wanted to tell my family but, when I talk to them…I get to talk about you, too.”

Sirius stared at him, smile slow. “Jules.”

Remus laughed again. “Oh my fucking god. I think he’s going to pass out.” He groaned. “God, I hope he didn’t see those pictures, though. That’s…I don’t know. I wish we could have surprised him, or told him together.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know yet,” Sirius offered. “Maybe we can.”

“Maybe,” Remus said, then reached up and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “I’ll call them tonight.”

“Text me so I can call you when I get to the hotel?” Sirius asked hopefully, and Remus nodded.

“You better.”

“You wanna come over and help me pack?”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re gonna get any packing done with me there?”

Sirius shrugged, ducking to brush their mouths together. “Maybe a little.”

Remus kissed him, and they pressed together for a few minutes, mouths hot. Remus laughed breathlessly as Sirius leaned against him, their kisses turning deeper.

“This sounds crazy, given everything,” Sirius said, dragging his mouth across Remus’ jaw. “But I feel—I’m relieved. Are you?”

“Yes,” Remus whispered, tilting his head back so Sirius could kiss more of his neck. “I can have you.”

“You could always have me.”

“Yeah,” Sirius could hear the smile in Remus’ voice. “But now I can have you wherever I want.”

Sirius grinned, biting gently on Remus’ jaw. “I’ll take you back to Sid’s and you can wipe food off my face all you want, cameras be damned.”

Remus laughed out loud. “My dream.”

“Should we get out of this dark room?” Sirius said softly after another lingering kiss.

Remus smiled and nodded.

Here’s a really early piece of dialogue I wrote where the team finds out about Sirius and Remus on the ice after they win the Cup:

“Holy shit,” Finn said tearfully. “You and the fucking Captain. I didn’t even know who I was talking to, did I?”

“No,” Remus laughed, and Finn kissed him right on the cheek.

“Jesus Christ, Loops, we’re in love and we have a Cup.”

“We really do. Proud of you, Harzy. All of you.”

~

“I love you.”

It came out of nowhere, slammed into Remus like a check to the boards, like a gust of pure, clean win across a frozen pond. He was blissful and awake with it.

“I love you,” Sirius said again, whispered against his skin. “I love you, Remus, je t’aime, je t’aime, je t’aime, mon loup, Remus…”

Sirius was gasping with it, as if the words were air themselves.

Remus clutched him, hands fisting his jersey. “I love you. God, of course, of course I love you, too.”

And here’s me almost giving Pascal a career ending injury during the playoffs, which Sirius and Remus overhear the Cubs comforting Logan about. Just incase the discord wants some angsty roads to go down :)

“Oh, sweetheart,” Leo’s voice came gently, followed by a low sob, probably from Logan.

Remus and Sirius looked at each other. Sweetheart Sirius mouthed, and Remus shook his head.

“I’m fine,” Logan said, voice thick. “I’ll be fine, let’s go, we need to play.”

“You’re not fine,” came a third voice, Finn’s, Remus realized. “And you don’t need to be. Lo, c’mere, please let us be here for you. C’mere.”

There was the unmistakable sound of a short kiss, and with that, Remus grabbed Sirius’ arm and pulled back back down the hallway as fast as he could. They ended up in Remus’ office, staring at each other.

“I…” Sirius began. “Okay, I don’t know what we just heard, but…”

“He’s being comforted by his—friends,” Remus said. “That’s all we know because…”

“They haven’t said anything yet.”

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

EDINBURGH TO BOSTON - CHAPTER 21 - SECRETS AND TRUTHS

Hello all, Finally the new chapter of Edinburgh to Boston is ready.

As I said in my update this has not been betaed. Therefore, any mistakes. lack of continuity or general mess-ups are all mine. I hope you will forgive me and overlook them. It took some re-writing when I read it over several times and I hope I caught all the mistakes.

This has been my baby for a long time and honestly, I think that was another reason that took so long to finish it as this is the last chapter. There will be an epilogue to clean up some things that are hanging around.

Just because this is the last chapter, does not mean this is the end. I can't really let go of these two people. They are so dear to my heart. Besides that, as I wrote this I realized that I did not totally address the opening premise that I made. If you recall I said that Fate and Destiny had their hands in seeing these two come together. There are other stories to tell about how such forces brought them together. I do plan a Part II but how I will do it has yet to be planned out.

I can't thank you all enough for being patient with me during times of difficulty when it took so long to get a chapter posted. I am so honored that so many of you liked this story which I honestly thought was going to fall flat on its face. I never dreamed I would get the response to it that I did. I thank you all for reading, commenting, giving the story some love. I am truly overwhelmed by your kindness.

As always I need to thank my betas who helped me along the way and gave me the encouragement to continue when I didn't think I could do it. @scubalass you're the best.

Without further ado and a tear in my eye, I give you Chapter 21 Edinburgh to Boston.

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 21

Secrets and Truths

“Come On! Come On! COME ON!” Claire groused at the tardy lift. It really wouldn’t do to be late for surgery on her first day back to work. She wanted to give the damn thing a good kick but thought better of it since she would be standing for most of the day. The idea of standing on a sore foot did not appeal to her.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, what is taking this thing so long? For a new building, you would think they would have installed a better lift system.” Finally, the doors slid open on the fifth floor where the cardiothoracic surgery department offices were located.

She ran down the corridor trying to free herself from her coat while hanging onto the bag containing her morning fix.

Claire ran through the building’s front door shouting a greeting to Eddie, the security guard on duty. She made a beeline for the Cafe to get her morning coffee before going up to her office. It would be a long and trying day and the caffeine jolt would serve as her means of survival.

Niall stood behind the counter and grinned at her. “Late Dr. B?”

“Whatever made you think so?” she replied rather dryly. Her face was flushed and her hair exploded out from her wooly cap.

“Just a wild guess,” he smirked.

“Humph!” she snarled. “I would love to stand and chat with you but I have surgery in an hour. I’ll have a…”

“Here it is Dr. B. Large black coffee with one sugar and a raisin scone.” Niall smiled showing her the takeaway bag with her name on it.

She looked flustered, “How did you…”

“Dr. Fraser came by earlier. He ordered for you thinking you might be...um, in a hurry.”

“You say Dr. Fraser’s here already?” Claire grimaced ashamed of her lateness. It seemed, however, that curiosity got the better of her. Doing her best to look nonchalant, she casually asked, “Um, how did he look? Tired was he?” Dark smudges rimmed her eyes from lack of sleep. Claire would have liked nothing more than to curl up in bed and pull the covers over her head.

“Nay, no’ at all. Dr. Fraser said he worked out in the gym first then ran here. He looked quite hale and hearty actually. A wee bit pink from the cold, but truly well.”

“Of course, he did,” mumbling with annoyance to herself, “the man is made out of steel.”

Opening her overstuffed slouchy bag, she began the ritual of hunting for her wallet.

Cocking his head to the side, Niall pushed the bag toward Claire, “Oh, and he paid for this too.”

“Thank you, Niall and I’ll thank Fraser when I see him.”

Grabbing the bag, she made a mad dash toward her arch-enemy, the lift.

As usual, the ride to her floor became an act of slow torture and unmitigated agony. Once the lift doors opened, she sprinted down the corridor shaking one arm out of her coat while juggling her purse and the bag with its precious contents in the other hand. As she arrived outside her office door, her other arm managed to jiggle out of its sleeve. Finding the key to her office would require a balancing act considering the disordered state of her handbag. Placing her coat between her teeth and the bag containing her coffee and scone between her knees, not the soundest of ideas mind, she rummaged inside her handbag. Of course, the key could not be found being buried in the deep recesses of the purse. Needing a little extra stability, Claire leaned against the doorway. The door swung open making her lose balance and stumble into the room. Her mouth opened, squawking in surprise causing the coat to drop to the floor. Flailing hands pinwheeled around trying to maintain equilibrium rather than land ignominiously on her arse. She managed to keep her footing but lost the grip on her purse and watched as the contents tumbled out spilling haphazardly around the room. By some miracle, the sack with the coffee and scone remained intact. Not a drop of the rejuvenating liquid spilled. Which, of course, was the most important thing.

Surveying the mess she had inadvertently created, Claire concluded it was going to be one of those days. No doubt about it. And to make matters worse, she would have to operate without Fraser. Not to have his strong capable hands there moving in concert with hers, well the thought just soured her stomach. Of course, Pound would be there to help, but he was still in training even if he was Chief Fellow and she would still have to monitor him.

Mumbling words that a lady should not use, Claire picked up her coat and tossed it on a chair. On her hands and knees, she crawled around picking up the scattered bits and bobs shoving them back in the purse.

Standing, she walked toward her desk and saw it. In the middle of the desk stood a small beautifully cut crystal vase filled with forget-me-nots, white heather, and baby’s breath. A handwritten card placed in front of the flowers was written in a distinctive script declaring, Tha gaol agam ort, J. Claire could not read Gàidhlig but she instinctively knew what it meant. Her eyes misted over as she touched the delicate blooms.

How do you do it, Jamie Fraser? You take a terrible day and turn it into something magical.

Claire put on her lab coat, grabbed the bag with her coffee and scone, and walked out closing the door behind her. She strolled toward her nemesis, the lift, smiling and humming happily.

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

“Aye, that’s right. See how Dr. Beauchamp keeps her field clear. It gives ye an unobstructed view and prevents postoperative infection.” Jamie turned to look at his students and they all dutifully nodded in appreciation.

“Watch how Dr. Beauchamp creates the anastomosis. Then she’ll tie it off. See how she makes her knots! ‘Tis a thing of beauty, is it no’? Perfect technique!” Jamie praised. Peering at his beloved, he saw her eyes crinkle with pleasure and her cheeks blazed red above her mask.

He came alive while he watched her work. As a surgeon, she was smart, talented, and highly sought after. Not only because of her skill but because she deeply cared about her patients. Some colleagues thought her “too involved” or believed her gender would make her“too soft” to become a competent cardiothoracic surgeon. Other critics thought her involvement with her patients would undermine her professionalism.

They had made love. Legs twined together; her head rested on his shoulder while his arm curled around her protectively. Jamie turned on to his side just enough to allow him to see her nakedness gilded by the moonlight. She curled into him clinging to him like a limpet anchored to a rock. Her muscles tense where normally she lay in his arms boneless after their intimacy. Finding a particularly tight knot he massaged it and felt it go slack.

“Is something wrong, my own? Did I no’ please you?” he asked anxiously.

“No, you were wonderful, really, Jamie. It’s just me. I started thinking. I don’t know why. But it’s nothing at all truly. I’m fine, just fine.”

“Sassenach, I ken well enough what ‘I’m fine means. Why dinna ye tell me what’s upsetting ye.” Jamie pulled her closer, tucking Claire’s head under his chin.

“We need to go back soon,” she said in a voice so low as to be almost inaudible. “And I’m so happy here with you,” she looked up into those startling blue eyes. “Then I started thinking about what it took for me to get this far in my career. My residency. My Fellowship. And suddenly I wondered if it was all worth it. I wondered if they were right in the end.”

“Who was right, Sassenach?”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Claire shared her trials as a cardiothoracic fellow. The competition for the position had been fierce. Only the top five candidates were called back to interview for the one open position. Even though she was highly ranked among the candidates for the fellowship, her prospective mentors suggested that perhaps she would be more suited to pediatrics, dermatology, or aesthetics as one of those specialties might suit her female sensibilities better. They had suggested cardiothoracic surgery might be too rigorous for a woman. The hours too demanding for a married woman. What would her husband say? Wouldn’t she like to have a family someday?

“The only qualification I didn’t have was I didn’t have a prick,” she said with some bitterness. She never expected an easy time. A distinct amount of sexism existed in medicine and women were not welcomed with open arms. She worked the worst schedule and given the most complex cases. Evaluations were harsh and judgmental. All done in the hopes that she would quit. Instead, it just made her work harder. And she turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to the mockery heaped on her. Claire succeeded where many others failed. She became their first female Chief Fellow; won several prestigious awards for her research. More importantly to Claire, her patients thrived.

“I am beginning to think they were right about some things. There is so much more to life. Much, much more,” she said drowsily. “And I want to have it. All.” Yawning, her eyes fluttered closed, and fell into a contented sleep.

“Aye, mo nighean donn, ye will. I’ll see tae it,” and leaned over kissing her brow.

Truly Claire is a woman of rare spirit, he thought. A woman who overcame many challenges and obstacles from an early age and was better for it. After all, she survived a plane crash that claimed the lives of her parents, lived like a vagabond with her archeologist uncle, and prevailed over a nightmare marriage. Many people would have been crushed under such hardships. But not his Sassenach; she endured. She managed to overcome them and emerge victoriously. A woman of rare spirit indeed. And one who deserved to be loved and loved well.

Jamie’s narrative kept pace with Claire’s every movement. Occasionally, he fired off questions at various intervals to his followers which they answered to his satisfaction. They remained throughout the entire procedure until skin closure finished and the patient made ready for transfer to the CSICU.

“Dr. Pound will accompany the patient to their room and start to write the postoperative orders. Please go with him. I will meet you over there.”

“Dr. Beauchamp, a word if ye please about yer next case,” called Jamie.

“Of course, Dr. Fraser. I would be delighted.”

The doctors exited the operating room on the pretext of being nothing more than two colleagues engaged in a discussion about a patient scheduled for surgery that afternoon. They approached an out-of-the-way corridor between the OR and the CSICU stealing down the passageway like two thieves in the night. Jamie’s head spun around looking for anyone who might have observed them. Deciding that they had not been seen, he seized her hand and pulled her into a little-used utility room. He locked the door behind them and drew her close, kissing her thoroughly.

“I missed ye.”

Claire cuddled into him resting her head on his chest. “I missed you too.”

Lifting her arms, she wrapped them around his neck. “Come here,” she whispered as she tugged his head down toward her.

Claire kissed him once, then twice.

“No’ that I’m complaining but what’s that for?”

“One was for the coffee, the other was for the scone. This one,” her voice turned provocative, “is for the flowers.” Her mouth latched onto his giving him a proper thank you kiss. The kiss, a searing flame, igniting them like a match to dry kindling. It left them both breathless and wanting for more.

She pressed firmly against him. He could feel her nipples rigid and taut through the thin scrub top. He knew she felt him; his hardness pressed against her body. If only I were home with her I’d carry her off to bed. This thought, naturally, made things much worse for him.

“How did you manage it?” she asked, her voice a sultry husky tone.

“Ewan gets the credit.”

“Be sure to thank him for me.” Claire crushed her body closer to his taking in his warmth. She buried he nose against him absorbing his smell. His scent was masculine, with the tang of antiseptic and just a dash of laundry starch hovering around him. Some things completely stirred her soul.

Clearing his throat, Jamie asked in a shaky voice, “Will ye, ah, will ye… Christ Claire, I canna think with ye so close tae me. Will ye take yer lunch with me?”

“Yes,” she said breathily.

“Why don’t ye go dictate yer op notes while on check on Pound? I’ll meet ye in about thirty minutes.”

“That’s a fine idea,” she leaned forward giving him a quick kiss. “Don’t be late.”

Jamie opened the door enough to peek out and found the corridor remained empty.

“Ye go first, I’ll follow after ye shortly.”

Claire slipped through the door while Jamie watched as she left. He noticed a little extra sway to her hips as she walked away. Damn little vixen. She did it on purpose. Sighing, he closed the door and leaned his head against it. He would have a wait a minute or two until his “problem” disappeared. It was becoming truly uncomfortable as he sought to adjust himself. “She’ll be the death of me yet.”

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

Walking into the CSICU after completing a successful surgery always filled Jamie with a certain satisfaction. He felt overjoyed that he and Claire helped patients return to their life, their work, their family, and without pain. He would tell patients, when he first met them, that this surgery was “enabling”. It would enable them to return to the life they wanted and not become a bystander.

With that thought in mind and a large grin on his face, Jamie swiped his badge across the electronic keypad granting him entrance into the Unit. The sounds of controlled chaos greeted him, voices raised, ventilators whooshing delivering needed oxygen, the soft beeping of heart monitors keeping time with healing hearts, IV pumps clicking as they delivered medication critical to the patient’s recovery.

He walked briskly toward the nurses’ station with gladness in his heart for he was back where he belonged.

“Fiona, ‘tis good tae see ye. How have ye been?” he inquired of the Unit’s charge nurse.

With the sound of his voice all conversation, all activity ceased, and every eye fastened onto him. The silence in the room would have been deafening if not for the continued mechanical sounds. Jamie became keenly aware of the absence of sound and the staff rooted in position. And just as quickly as it started it ended with activity resuming at its normal pace.

Fiona MacGowen kept her eyes glued to her computer screen, deliberately not making direct eye contact with the doctor. “Oh just braw, Dr. Fraser, just braw. Dr. Beauchamp’s patient is in Room 10 with Dr. Pound, Elspeth, and Iona getting him settled,” she said with her lips slightly turning up in a smile. “They’ll be waiting on ye.”

“Thank ye, Fiona. I’ll go and see how they are getting along.”

Jamie walked away, stopped, and turned back to look at Fiona once more. He thought her behavior a bit strange. Generally, one would say Fiona was a gregarious person with the reputation of being a chatterbox. Today, however, she acted more like a nun under a vow of silence. But to be honest, as he gazed around the Unit once more, everyone’s behavior seemed strange. And he had yet figured out what to make of it.

As Jamie approached the room the sounds of busyness gave the impression of a beehive humming with activity. As he stepped into the entryway, activity ceased. Again, all that remained was the soft mechanical sounds made by the life-sustaining equipment.

Elspeth stood quite still and uttered a little gasp. Meanwhile, Iona took a step back bumping into the ventilator; her eyes round with surprise. Dr. Pound cleared his throat glaring at the two nurses. They resumed their usual pleasant expressions with lips curling up into crooked smiles.

Jamie looked at the three of them thinking his team had gone daft.

“‘Tis good to have ye back Dr. Fraser,” declared the Fellow. “The ladies and I were just finishing getting Mr. MacNichol set up.”

Pound grabbed one of the portable workstations and began reviewing the patient’s current vitals as well as the orders he had written with the surgeon. They discussed the ventilator’s and pacemaker’s current settings, and when to call Dr. Beauchamp with any changes to her patient.

“Well-done, well-done. Mr. MacNichol is in very capable hands,” he smiled at his team. “I am off to lunch. Ye ken how to reach Dr. Beauchamp or me.”

Jamie walked out of the room and on impulse turned back to see the three heads buried in whispered conversation. He shook his head and left thinking about having lunch with Claire wanting to discuss the staff’s strange behavior with her.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, Jamie walked smack into his cousin Rupert almost knocking him down. Extending his arm quickly he caught his cousin by the shoulder steadying him.

“Sorry about that Rup. Doing a bit of wool-gathering I suppose.”

“Oy must be something awfully important to have ye so distracted.”

“I promised Claire I would have lunch with her and I dinna want tae be late.”

“Tae tell ye the truth, I am on my way tae find Geillis. We’re supposed to have a bite together too. Suppose ye two join us, aye?” He grinned broadly, “Twill be interesting to see if the plan

succeeded.”

“Sounds like a good idea cuz,” Jamie clapped an arm around Rupert’s shoulder as they strode off in search of the lasses.

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

Seated at one of the dictation corrals, Claire began her op notes. Her cardiac anesthesiologist, Geillis Duncan took the hutch next to her.

Dr. Duncan was a beautiful woman, with a trim figure, flaming red hair, and eyes as green as spring grass.

“Claire, ‘tis good tae have ye back. I’m sorry I dinna have much of a chance tae speak with ye this morning before the case. Did ye enjoy the conference?” Dr. Duncan gave Claire a sly side-long look.

“Wouldn’t you know it, Boston had a blizzard and the speakers weren’t able to make it.”

“No. What a shame. Ye flew all that way for nothing,” she sympathized.

“Too bad, right? Dr. Fraser and I were looking forward to hearing about those peripherally inserted heart valves.”

“Aye, but ye had the fox cub with ye. Perhaps it wasna so bad after all,” she leaned over jabbing Claire in the side. “Did ye maybe get tae share a room and have a go at him between the sheets, um?” She gave Claire a wicked smile. “I ken if I was snowed in with him, I would.

“Geillis!” Claire swore. She blushed from her hair roots to her toes.

Geillis gave her a sly smug smile. “After all, Georges X is an exclusive luxury hotel. Verra private, and verra, verra discrete. Or so I’ve heard,” she said shrugging her shoulders. “They have those flowers, all over the place. What are they? Orchids? she asked while tapping her nail against her white teeth feigning an attempt at recalling. I understand the lobby is decorated with a fortune in artwork. The rooms are quite grand, are they no’, with a fireplace, champagne, chocolate-dipped strawberries, fine whiskey. And I hear the bed is big enough to sleep an entire family. How could ye no’ entice him into yer bed, is what I want tae know?”

Claire glared at her friend, “What I want to know is how you know I stayed at Georges X. I know I never told you.”

Geillis chuckled nervously, “Why of course ye did. How else would I ken that?” Geillis became uncomfortable under Claire’s scrutiny.

“Spill it, Duncan. You know more than you’re telling.”

Geillis affected a look of innocence, “I swear tae ye Claire, I dinna ken anything.” She nervously scanned the area looking for any means of escape from further questioning. Her eyes latched on to Dr. Rupert MacKenzie ambling directly toward her, along with Jamie. “I need tae go. I promised tae meet Rupert for lunch. See ye later, Claire.”

Reaching out, Claire grasped Geillis by the forearm, “That’s a load of rubbish and you know it. I suspected there was something dodgy about that trip right from the beginning. I need answers and you have them, Duncan. You’re coming with me.”

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

The two male surgeons walked amicably through the corridor talking and laughing as Rupert entertained Jamie with tales of hospital gossip. As they approached the physician workstation, they noticed a loud commotion that seemed to be attracting a crowd. Jamie wondered what caused the kerfuffle this time. Most such squabbles centered around obtaining a certain OR room or available time for surgery. This behavior bordered on the ridiculous in his opinion.

As the men came closer to the center of the fray, they saw two female doctors engaged in a struggle. One of them had wild brown curls bouncing around her head. Claire? The second doctor had hair the color of flame. That head of hair belonged to the fiery Geillis Duncan. He quickened his pace needing to reach Claire.

“Claire! Claire,” he called, “What’s amiss?”

“‘Claire’ he calls her now. No’ Dr. Beauchamp,” Geillis snorted.

Claire’s posture had all the hallmarks of frustration and anger as she tried to drag her colleague toward the doctor’s lounge.

Claire’s eyes locked on Jamie, “It seems that Dr. Duncan knows a great deal about our trip. Particularly where we stayed and I want to know how.”

Rupert took Geillis firmly by the elbow and leaned over to hotly whisper in her ear, “Wha’ have ye done woman!?”

Cold green eyes glared fixedly up at him disliking his insinuation. “I may have spilled a bit of tea is all,” she said, wrenching her arm free of his grip.

“Sounds more like ye spilled the whole damn pot,” he growled at her. “Ye ken they were never supposed to find out, at least no’ this way. We were supposed to tell them gentle like. Now what?”

Dr. Duncan gave her shoulders the tiniest of shrugs. “Dinna fash. We’ll think of something,” and walked toward the lounge.

He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, “Aye, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

Rupert held the lounge door open for his co-conspirator trying to usher her quietly into the room. Geillis, however, turned to observe Jamie and Claire huddled deep in discussion.

“Are ye both going to stand there all day blethering, or are ye coming? I’m hungry and I want my lunch.” she snapped.

The crowd lingered about waiting for the fuse to be lit and the fireworks to begin. Dr. Duncan had a very volatile reputation easily flying into pieces like an unstable explosive device. Whereas, Dr. Beauchamp was a genial person, kind and caring. But, the one thing she was not was a meek individual. When pushed beyond her tolerance limits, she could be as ruthless as a she-wolf defending her pups.

Jamie placed his hand firmly on the small of Claire’s back giving her a little nudge forward. The crowd began to murmur heads close in a whispered discussion, Some rudely pointed a finger at his hand on her back, while others outright stared. Jamie flushed. He should have known such an intimate placement of his hand would draw attention. They saw he claimed her. Not knowing how Claire would feel about this public display, he thought he needed to break up this crowd before someone accidentally said something.

“Show’s over everyone. Just a private meeting among friends. Nothing tae see here. I’m sure ye all have some work tae do. Patients are waiting for ye. Go on with ye.” Jamie said dismissing the loitering group.

Following behind Claire, Jamie entered the room and shut the door.

Claire wanted to get to the bottom of things quickly and stormed up to her colleague in a blazing fury. “Alright Duncan, spill what you know.”

“I already told ye. I dinna ken anything about ye trip. As I said either you or Jamie must have mentioned where ye were staying. Beyond that, I dinna ken anything.”

Jamie looked at Claire and shook his head signifying that he had never mentioned the hotel to anyone.

“Um-hm. Since when does this institution send a chauffeured car to pick up two staff surgeons? For the Chief certainly but not for ordinary staff personnel. And we’re supposed to believe that the hospital made five-star accommodations with all expenses paid for us? Hmm? I think not. Did I not say so, Jamie?”

“Aye, ye did. Several times.”

“Claire began to pace while considering the other strange occurrences surrounding their trip.

“And what about my clothes? I most certainly did not pack away that nightgown. It was a mere scrap of silk and lace. And that lingerie! Those panties and bras were not something I would have packed for a conference trip.”

“I’ll bet he enjoyed it,” Geillis muttered under her breath a sly grin curling up on her lips lighting up her face.

Jamie leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, staring intensely at the female doctor, “I am inclined tae agree with Dr. Beauchamp that the circumstances surrounding our trip tae Boston were, tae say the least, most unusual. I also had clothes in my suitcase that I ken I dinna pack and I’m wondering how they got there. Can ye shed any light on this mystery?”

As Jamie questioned Geillis, an acrid odor caught Claire’s attention. Being a very astute doctor, she was used to the various malodors emitted by humans and knew what they meant. She raised her nose into the air and sniffed delicately. The pungent smell seemed to be coming from the direction of Rupert. A light sheen of sweat glossed over his forehead and there was a distinctive musky odor about him. Fear. Anxiety. Her intense scrutiny seemed to worsen whatever internal conflict plaguing him. Unable to withstand the intensity of her stare, Rupert turned away not wanting to meet her eyes.

Claire jabbed Jamie in his side with her elbow gaining his attention.

“I think Rupert has something to add to this conversation.”

Jamie walked over to his cousin and stared at him intently. Rupert took a few steps back, feeling the unconscious need to put some distance between them.

“Aye, I think yer right. Rupert, ye look like ye have something ye’d like tae get off yer chest. Out with it man.”

Deciding that the best defense is a good offense, Rupert widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I dinna ken what yer talking about Jamie lad. As the lady said, I dinna ken anything about yer trip either. And dinna ask if I ken anything about how yer jeans, duck boots, and down jacket got into yer suitcase,” he replied, a self-satisfied look plastered across his face.

“Ye great dunderheid! Do ye ken what ye said?! Ye just gave it away,” Geillis shouted giving him a slap upside his head. “And ye were worried about what I said.”

“Wha’ are ye talking ab…” He had that startled look that one has when they realize they stuck their foot in their mouth. “Oh! Oh, shite.”

“Ye just admitted that ye changed Jamie’s clothes in his suitcase.”

“Dinna blame me for everything. You changed Claire’s clothes,” Rupert countered.

The two combatants escalated the argument going at each other nose to nose, eyeball to eyeball, tooth, fang, and claw.

“And whose ideas was this? Mine. Who made the hotel arrangements and spoke tae Joe Silverberg in Texas to get him on board with the plan should one of them call to discuss the meeting?” Geillis boasted as she swung her hair over her shoulder. A dreamy look took over her as she recalled the conversation with Dr. Silverberg. “I invited him to come to Scotland, ye ken. Told him I would show him the sights and a good time. Said he may take me up on that too.”

“Mmphm, so ye did,” Rupert grumbled with annoyance. He did not like the suggestion of Geillis showing the American surgeon a good time. “Ye forget I made the plane arrangements and got Kenny to print up the fake conference brochure. And who enlisted their secretary’s help to slip the vacation request under the Chief’s nose and have him sign it? Cost me a night out as payment for that,” Rupert griped.

The two doctors continued in their game of one-up-manship, oblivious to Jamie and Claire standing in the room.

Unable to take the bickering anymore, Jamie bellowed, “Haud yer weesht!!!”

Geillis and Rupert looked up in bewilderment having forgotten where they were and that Jamie and Claire stood listening.

“Do ye two realize that what ye did invaded our privacy? That ye had no right to interfere in our lives?” Jamie growled.

“So, that’s it then? The whole thing was a setup, some sort of game? None of this was real? ” Claire said as she looked at Jamie.

“I beg tae differ, hen,” Gellis walked over her expression softening and gently took hold of Claire’s hand, “it’s as real as it can get. We all saw the lovesick eyes, the secret peeks ye two gave each other, and the way ye fuss over each other. If two people were meant to be together it’s ye two. We just nudged things along is all, ” said Geillis.

“Aye, yer right,” Rupert chimed in. “‘Tis the truth that NO one could take watching ye two anymore. The whole hospital wanted tae see ye together.” Rupert smiled at Claire. He quickly turned his vexation on his cousin. “And if Fraser here was no’ going tae be a man about it and make the first move, well by God someone had tae,” he snarled at Jamie. “What are ye then, cuz, a man or a moose?”

Jamie ran his hand through his hair and rolled his shoulders as if trying to loosen his shirt that had suddenly become too tight. A shy crooked smile flashed over his face; his lip curling up on one side.

“Aye, yer right. I, ah, I… Well, tae tell the truth, I am a bit of a coward. Ye ken, I dinna think um, I dinna know if Claire felt the same about me.” Jamie turned and looked deeply in Claire’s eyes, “I was afraid tae lose ye. If being yer friend would be the best of it, then that would have been enough.”

“I was afraid of losing you too, Jamie. I’ve had feelings for you right from the start. Only now do I dare to admit them,” Claire turned toward Rupert and Geillis giving them a look of gratitude. Moving closer, placing her hands on his chest. “I love you and I always will.” Her arms went up around his neck, standing on tiptoe, she leaned in, and kissed him soundly.

The kiss finally ended, each blushing from making a display of themselves.

Geillis stood there making gagging noises as she watched their affection. Rupert looked at Geillis with a smirk on his face.

“What’s the matter, lass, jealous?” Rupert said with a grin on his face.

“Certainly not,” Geillis waved off that idea with a flip of her hand and turned away.

“Well then, ye won't be minding this. I've wanted tae do this for a long time.” Rupert turned her around, took her in his arms, and kissed her.

“And I dinna want tae hear about ye showing any other men a good time, either.” He gave her a look that told her he would not brook no for an answer.

Geillis, looking dazed readily agreed.

Jamie coughed loudly, reminding the other couple they were not alone.

Wrapping his arm around Claire and pulling her into his side, Jamie smiled at their friends, “We want to thank ye, both, for bringing us together. We are truly grateful.”

Claire nodded in agreement, forgetting about her anger with the unorthodox methods they used to bring her the love of her life.

“Since we are all telling the truth,” Rupert reluctantly admitted, “there’s a wee bit more to it.” “We were not the only ones involved in this. When other staff members heard what we about they wanted tae be part of it. And so...”

“And so everyone began to contribute money tae help pay for the trip. So that’s how ye had such fine accommodations and such.” Geillis huffed, “We told ye that people could no longer stand tae look at ye. They wanted ye two as a couple, no’ apart. Now can we stop havering about and get some lunch? My wame is empty. Besides, everyone is waiting in the canteen tae see ye both.”

“Oh, God,” Claire groaned as she grew red and buried her face in Jamie’s chest.

Jamie chuckled and rubbed her back in long soothing strokes.

“Are ye ready then, Sassenach? Let’s go give these good people their money’s worth,” he grinned.

“Yes. We should thank them all, don’t you think?” Claire replied, running her fingers through her hair trying to tame her wayward curls.

“Ye look fine, lass,” he bent to kiss her gently on the cheek and took hold of her hand.

Rupert and Geillis led the way, laughing and talking. Claire and Jamie walked behind them holding hands. Nerves were getting the best of her and her hands became sweaty. She surreptitiously wiped her free hand on the scrub pant leg.

“Dinna fash. Ye’ve faced worse and ye’ll no’ be doing this alone. We’ll face them as one.”

One.

ONE, he said. But. What did that exactly mean?

“What do you mean by that? Being one?” She held her breath waiting for an answer.

Jamie frowned, crease lines set upon his forehead.

“It’s like I’ve kent ye my whole life, even before that, if that’s possible. I mean yer part of me. I ken that sounds crazy, but I…”

“I know what you mean, Jamie. I feel the same way too. It’s hard to explain, but it’s there.”

“Aye, lass, it’s most definitely there.”

Approaching the canteen seemed a surreal experience. Normally, one would call the dining hall a lively place, with the sounds of laughter, chatter, mixed with the scrape of dinnerware against plates. Today seemed different. A thrum of excitement and perhaps expectation filled the air as if waiting for something to happen. As Jamie and Claire approached the door a steady vibration emanated from its core.

Geillis waved them back signaling she and Rupert would enter first. Rupert lifted his hand spreading his fingers indicating they should wait five minutes before entering. Jamie nodded and Rupert and Geillis entered the dining room.

Jamie and Claire waited in companionable silence. Who would think that five minutes could feel like an eternity? But it did.

Jamie looked at his watch; it was time.

“Are ye ready, Sassenach?”

“Je suis prest,” she acknowledged.

Their fingers reached out seeking their mate bonded the two hearts and souls into one. Turning they gave each other a nod and walked through the door only to meet with absolute silence.

All eyes turned upon them and it became unnerving. Claire inched closer to Jamie, if that was even possible, drawing on his strength.

Then the cheers began along with the whistles and applause. Someone from the back of the room called out, “It’s about time, Fraser.”

“Och why don’t ye just give us a bit of peace, aye?” came his laughing response.

They were rushed by a mob of well-wishers. Men clapped Jamie on the back wishing him well. Others made jokes, at his expense, about his manliness for taking so long.

The women embraced Claire telling her how happy they were for her. Some gave her sly looks while others made off-color jokes causing her to blush.

Eventually, people began to amble back to their tables and lunch, and the couple discovered themselves alone. Finding a table in an out-of-the-way corner, they sat to eat.

“I guess we are out as a couple officially. It’s no’ how I would have wished it tae become common knowledge, but…” Jamie shrugged. “They are good people and they meant well.”

Claire nodded in agreement as she moved her salad around on the plate not eating.

“It’s a strange feeling. Knowing that someone orchestrated this relationship. I know how this will sound, but I feel like this happened to me, to us before.”

Claire looked up at Jamie, eyes pleading for understanding.

“Forget what I said, it’s silly.” She stabbed a particularly tender piece of lettuce and ate it.

“Nay Sassenach, it’s no’ silly at all. I feel it too. It’s as if I am drawn to ye as if I kent ye from another lifetime. Like we were meant to be together, bonded if ye like.”

“That’s it, exactly.” Claire looked at him with a sense of relief. Looking up, she noticed the clock on the wall, reading 12:55 PM.

“Damn, we have to go. We’ll barely make it in time for Dr. de Gascogne’s appointment for your hand.”

Jamie muttered something in Gàidhlig which Claire really didn’t want a translation of.

“I dinna ken why everyone is making such a fuss over my hand. It doesna hurt and it will heal in a few more weeks.”

Claire blew out a breath of exasperation, “You know very well why Dr. Fraser. Your one of the best cardiac surgeons in all of Scotland. Well, next to me you are,” she said teasingly. Besides, the hospital needs you, your patients need you but most of all I need you. So that’s why.”

“I ken, but I dinna like being fussed over.”

“Yes, I know; you’re a doctor and doctors make terrible patients. You think you’re supposed to do the healing and don’t like when you need help,” Claire said with a raised eyebrow. “Now, let’s get your hand attended to, shall we?”

They hurried through the corridors, making it to the appointment with seconds to spare. Jamie was whisked off for X-Rays then he and Claire were escorted to an exam room. He sat on the examination bed while Claire took the chair next to him awaiting Dr. de Gascogne’s appearance.

Jamie studiously inspected an anatomical chart of the hand and wrist hanging on the wall in the room.

“Ye said ye need me,” he said almost inaudibly. “Do ye mean as yer surgical partner or as something more?

Claire noticed him drumming his fingers on his thigh anxiously.

“I need you, Jamie, in every sense of the word. As my partner, my friend, my lover, my everything. I. Need. You.” Claire stood and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck pressing her forehead to his.

“Aye, weel I wanted to make sure, is all. Yer the prettiest lass in the hospital. Any man would want tae be with ye,” and gave her a shy smile.

“Jamie Fraser, you say the most…” There was a knock on the door, the knob turned and Dr. de Gascogne entered the room finding the lovers locked in an embrace.

She looked at the two, raised an eyebrow at Jamie’s hands on Claire’s hips, “Un jour, quelqu'un entrera dans votre vie et vous fera comprendre pourquoi cela n'a jamais fonctionné avec quelqu'un d'autre, mes chers. Et il semble que vous ayez. I believe congratulations are in order. My secretary tells me you have announced that you are a couple. You two made quite a stir in the dining hall?”

Claire jumped away returning to her seat cheeks and nose bright red. While Jamie’s ears went pink.

“Well, um, ah, yes. Thank you. I believe that we made quite a spectacle of ourselves and continue to do so, it seems,” Claire replied mortified having been caught.

“Ah, mon chéri never be ashamed to show that you are in love. We are born of love and seek out love. Many have sacrificed greatly for love even died for it. It truly is a treasure to enjoy. No?” Dr. de Gascogne said with a smile. “Now to business.”

Dr. de Gascogne opened the electronic medical record and began her inquiry. Jamie explained how he injured his hand - twice - causing Dr. de Gascogne to raise her eyebrows in total disbelief.

She reviewed the X-Rays; then removed the splints. She moved and wiggled the fingers finding them healing well and moving to her satisfaction. The splints were replaced and Jamie was dismissed with a caution not to hit any more people or trees. She instructed him to see her again in one month for a further follow-up.

The two surgeons graciously thanked Dr. de Gascogne for her time and casually left the examination room. As soon as they could not be seen, they bolted toward the operating suites as quickly as they could eager to leave behind another awkward situation.

The remainder of the afternoon went on as planned. Claire completed her second surgical procedure without incident. Jamie’s students doggedly followed him from place to place. Finally, the day came to an end. The surgeons tiredly returned to their offices, checked in for urgent messages and for their schedule for the next day. Each too exhausted to do much of anything else, except want the comfort of a bed, chose to go home. It was a short walk to Claire’s flat from the hospital and Jamie escorted her home. He wrapped his arm around her waist and she leaned into him. They spoke of this and that sharing different events of their day. Arriving at Claire’s flat, they walked up the stairs toward the front door. Jamie stood one step lower than Claire allowing them to be of an equal height.

A wave of fatigue washed over her, but Claire did not want Jamie to leave despite her tiredness.

“Would you like to come up? I have some soup in the fridge. Mrs. Bug made it. She’s quite the cook. Won’t take more than a moment to heat up. Or maybe a glass of wine or a dram? To help unwind?” she said looking at him hopefully.

He unzipped both their jackets and pulled her into the depth of his wrapping the jacket around her. He wanted her close to him and to share his warmth with her.

“Mo chridhe, yer completely knackered and ye need yer rest. If I come up with ye, ye ken neither of us will get any sleep,” he said pressing himself against her his desire completely apparent. “It’s no’ that I dinna want tae, but it wouldna do tae have ye fall asleep tomorrow during yer procedures.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve worked with little sleep, just like you have, during residency and fellowship,” she pouted.

“Aye, but ye need to set an example for the students and fellows. And what about yer patients? They need Dr. Beauchamp at her best. They’re counting on ye.”

Claire luxuriated in the radiant heat of his body and the knowledge that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But, she still did not want him to leave. For to be alone with Jamie was bliss but to be alone was, well, to be alone. She racked her fatigued brain for anything that would keep Jamie with her. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “I love you.”

“I ken ye do, mo nighean donn. I feel it every time ye touch me,” Jamie took her hand tenderly placing a kiss on her palm. Gently, he folded her fingers over to seal his kiss against her skin. “And when ye kiss me,” he brushed his lips over hers. “Most of all, when ye lie with me. I ken the truth of it in our lovemaking,” he pulled her even closer to him until no space existed between their bodies. “Woman, ye’re like a live wire. Yer body fairly pulses with yer love and it flows out from you into me. It’s no’ just lust between us. ‘Tis love that brought us together and binds our souls. ‘Tis a thing that I never knew I wanted or needed until I found ye,” his hand moved to cup her face.

“It’s the same for me. I never knew it could be like this. Especially, after Frank. I thought all relationships would end up like that one. I see how foolish I had been to keep myself closed. To close my heart from love. If not for this trip, this may have never happened. We may have never happened.”

“Mo leannan, I would have found ye somehow. Whether I found ye now or even if I had to wait two hundred years to find ye, I’d find ye. We are meant to be together. I ken it.” His forehead pressed to hers each inhaling the other’s breath.

It began to rain lightly; a mizzle he had once called it. Tiny droplets of water clung to his hair. In the light of the streetlamp, his hair looked like a ruby adorned with sparkling diamonds.

They stood locked in an embrace for several moments; neither truly wanting to part from the other.

“Sassenach,” he whispered into her ear, “go on up. Ye need yer rest. Yer poor wee eyes are closing and there are dark smudges around them. Go on then. I’ll see ye tomorrow.”

He kissed her on the forehead and she nodded her head in agreement. Claire walked up the last two steps and slid the key into the lock of the front door. She turned to watch Jamie as he disappeared into the night walking toward his home and it occurred to her that this was just the beginning of their life and of their story.

The End - Part I

Tha gaol agam ort: I love you. (As if you didn’t know already.)

Anastomosis: An anastomosis is a surgical connection between two structures. It usually means a connection that is created between tubular structures, such as blood vessels or loops of the intestine.

CSICU/Unit: Cardiac Surgical ICU.

Blatherer: Chatterbox.

Dunderheid: An idiot, a stupid person.

Haud yer weesht: Be quiet.

Moose: mouse

Un jour, quelqu'un entrera dans votre vie et vous fera comprendre pourquoi cela n'a jamais fonctionné avec quelqu'un d'autre, mes chers. Et il semble que vous ayez.: One day someone will walk into your life and make you see why it never worked out with anyone else, my dears. And it seems that you have. (Google translation. If it’s wrong I apologise.) The quote is attributed to anonymous.

Mo nighean donn: My brown-haired lass

Mo leannan: Darling

Mizzle: A light rain

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. This Jamie and Claire will return. When I don't know. I also have several other stories in various stages of completion sitting in my files. I would like to give them a little attention too. And I still need to get through all the other stuff going on in my life.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading. 🧡🧡🧡🧡

[yespolkadotkitty]

Conference Room B

A little smutty fix-it for poor darling Marcus Pike, who really got shafted in The Mentalist. I wanted to give him a treat. Special thanks to @alldatalost​ for cheerleading.

Warning: shamelessly fluffy smut.

You stare at your computer screen, willing something to change, so you can leave already. You adore the team here, in many ways they’ve become your family, but you were meant to have been in DC with Marcus for eight days already - well, okay, so he wouldn’t have been there yet, but you could have slept in the sheets that smelled of him and started to organise your home together. Instead, a new murder case dropped and swallowed the lives of everyone. But you’re nearly there, you’re all so close you can taste it. Even Jane is antsy.

You miss Marcus. No, that doesn’t seem enough. You long for him. Marcus’ new job seemed to come with some hefty, dangerous undercover work, and while he’d been on the job, you hadn’t been able to video call, so for six weeks your relationship had been maintained via whispered voice calls and texts at random times.

Sometimes, late at night, you hadn’t seen his face for so long that you wondered if you’d made him up, inside your heart.

Agent Cho drops by your desk, tapping the corner to get your attention. “Agent Pike is in the building.”

Your pulse jumps. “Thanks. But-”

Cho just arches a brow and smiles.

Your heartbeat rockets as you stare at the lifts opposite the bank of desks you work in. What would he smell like, after this time apart? Why was he here now?

“What if I fuck it up?” you whisper to Cho. “What if he’s changed his mind?”

Kimble smiles at you, and his usual calm, stoic demeanour works its magic on your nerves. “If he’d changed his mind, would he be here?” He gives you a little nod, and then swaggers off, no doubt to impart his even-keel advice on someone else who needs it.

You spend a few fruitless moments trying to get back into work, and failing. Lisbon meets your gaze from her own computer and gives you a sympathetic smile. You guess they all know.

And then the elevator doors open and actually, nothing else matters when you see him.

His hair’s grown out, and it curls over his forehead, flicks up at his collar. It looks so soft; you want to sink your fingers into it. And his top lip and jaw are scruffy and the new, patchy beard really suits him. His posture is great as usual - he’s not arrogant, but he won’t apologise for being confident. He wears a suit well; always has, the lines cut sharp, his white shirt striped with grey, cut in half by the wine red tie.

He is a big, tall drink of water, and you want him more than your next breath. He scans the room and you stand up, and your eyes meet. His are that bottomless, dark chocolate brown, and his face lights up when he sees you, that big, goofy, no-holds-barred grin, and you make yourself calm down and try and remember you’re at work, rounding your desk and walking to him slowly across the carpet.

“Hey,” he says softly, and his voice is deep and sexy and everything you’ve ever wanted. Your hands itch with the urge to touch all that soft hair and his scruffy beard.

“Hey.” You search his gaze. He looks thrilled to see you, his expression soft and sweet and tender and unguarded, and your heart aches for all the nights you’ve missed him. “I love the beard.”

Marcus rubs a hand over it. “Thanks. It’s for the undercover thing. It ended last night, and - well. I know it’s sudden, but I had to see you.” He glances around the office, and you turn around to see Cho, Lisbon and the rest of the team quickly duck their heads, pretending to be super engrossed in other stuff.

“Wow,” you mutter. “We’re supposed to be good at subterfuge.”

Marcus chuckles, and takes your hand. Just that simple touch sends licks of want and need up your arm. “Is there… somewhere we can talk?”

Your stomach drops. Is he.. Ending things? “Sure.” You keep his fingers linked with yours, and lead him down the hall to a small, unoccupied conference room. You gesture and he precedes you in, dropping your hand, as you close and lock the door, and release the blinds, so you’re totally alone.

“Marcus, is everything-” your words get swallowed up as he’s on you in a heartbeat, kissing you like a man desperate for air after a lifetime underwater. His tongue traces your lips and you open eagerly, sliding your hands up his chest and into his newly grown hair, and it’s as soft as you imagined. He smells of his habitual black pepper and vanilla cologne and fresh coffee and clean soap, and it’s heady and you could breathe him in forever. He tugs you as close as possible, folding your body into his larger one, his hands running over your back like he’s re-learning you after over a month apart. You fist your hand in his hair hungrily, licking into his mouth. His moustache tickles your skin and it’s decadent and delicious, like a favourite cake with a new flavour added.

He releases you, making this low groan of need in his throat, and you think if he isn’t inside you in the next thirty seconds, you might die.

“Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Couldn’t do that to you out there. And I had to - I had to.  Sometimes I’ve wanted you so much, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me too,” you whisper, cupping his dear face, tracing your thumb along his scruffy jaw. He feels so good. “Is it wrong to get frisky on FBI property?”

Marcus winces. “Most definitely, but…” He pulls you close again, and you thrill to the evidence of his want for you pressing hot and heavy against your belly. “ Fuck, I want you. We’ll have to wait until you get home from work.”

“For what I really want, yes, but… not for everything.” You back him up against the door, kiss him breathless, drinking in his addictive taste, and slide one hand down to his fly, unzipping his suit pants.

“What are you-” Marcus asks, and then footsteps sound on the other side of the door.

You kiss his scruffy cheek and whisper into his ear; “You’ll have to be quiet. Anyone could come past.”

He swallows audibly but doesn’t say anything to the contrary. You nip at his earlobe as you use your other hand to play, too, sliding open the slit of his boxers and drawing him out, palming his length and soaking up the little growl in his throat that’s just barely audible.

“Oh my God , have I missed you,” you murmur, licking at the scruff on his jaw. “And you show up looking hotter than a Laredo night.”

Marcus’ hands clench on the small of your back as you continue to stroke and tease him. He’s steel in velvet, and your hands become slick as you begin to draw an orgasm up his spine, one eager touch at a time. When you pull back to look up into his face, he’s wrecked, pupils blown with lust, teeth sunk into his lower lip in an attempt not to make any sound.

He’s a fantasy wrapped in a Bureau-issue suit, everything you want in a tanned, voice-made-for-sex package - kind, smart, patient, soft, and he’s yours. “Marcus,” you murmur, your head full of love with him, and you slide down his body and take him in your mouth.

A strangled sound escapes his lips just as voices pass the door, and you hear him mutter “ Jesus fucking Christ,” as you start to lick him the way you’ve been fantasizing about for six weeks. One of his hands curls into your hair as you work him steadily close to a blinding climax. He’s slumped against the door now, desperately trying not to let his knees give in, as his hips move incrementally, exercising extreme restraint in not fucking your mouth.

You take him as deep as you can and he makes that sexy little growl again, and your name falls from his tongue, the syllables deep and gravelly, a warning, and you squeeze the hand he’s fisted at his hip, letting him know it’s okay.

A litany of curses barely reaches your ears as he comes like a freight train, his whole body tensing for a moment that seems to stretch to forever, and you drink down everything he gives you, afterwards gently tucking him back into his boxers and zipping his smart suit trousers.

Marcus rubs a hand over his face, and you see his wrist tremble. “Fuck. That was…. Probably not legal.”

You kiss a smile on to his sweet lips, hug him tight, and he pulls you into him, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Thank you,” he rasps, low and sweet in his perfect drawl. “You can’t imagine how many times I’ve come in my hand in the last six weeks, wishing it was you.”

“About the same number of times I’ve imagined you in my bed,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “That’ll have to hold us until I finish for tonight. Do you still have your key? Wait for me at my place?”

Marcus pats his pocket, dark eyes shining. “I will.”

You take time to adjust your clothes before leaving the conference room. The coast is clear and you walk Marcus back to the elevators.

Jane passes with a cup of coffee in hand. “Glad you had time to come, Pike,” he says genially, and you follow Marcus into the elevator, and when the doors close, you laugh in each other’s arms until you’re weak.

Tagging: @pedropascalito​ @pedropasscals​ @paniclana​ @littlemissthistle​ @spacegayofficial​ @tiffdawg​ @keeper0fthestars​ @dindjarindiaries​ @pedrosasscal​ @thewaythisis​ @javierian​ @restingnurseface​ @abuttoncalledsmalls​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​

Please do ask to be added or released from the tags!

[vivithefolle]

Love isn’t a Deus Ex Machina thing, it’s literally the core theme of the series, hence why Love Magic exists

Love Magic is never a concept at any time in the series. It’s only about “Lily Potter’s spell”. But what’s so special about Lily Potter? What’s so great about her? She did the thing any halfway decent mother would do for their child: she gave her life for them. Molly would’ve done it for any of her sons. Narcissa would have done it for Draco. Mrs Granger the nonentity would have done it for her daughter had she not been lobotomized instead. Lily Potter’s sacrifice isn’t anything special. It’s only special because Rowling decided so, because the Plot needed it to be.

Love isn’t a Deus Ex Machina thing? Then how come Quirrel conveniently burned to death at Harry’s hands? How come Harry had to live at Privet Drive because reasons so he could be abused so naive readers like you could feel very sorry for the poor widdle orphan and pat themselves on the back because wow, aren’t you special for feeling sorry for the poor widdle orphan?

And I didn’t misunderstand Harry. I literally explained him to you

If you don’t like him, I don’t care. Just stop giving his uniqueness to other characters

And you literally showed me exactly why you don’t understand him.

Harry’s superpower isn’t teh special uniqueness of his luuuurve, or the absolute pure pureness of his heart, it’s that he has FRIENDS. Friends who’d die for him, friends who’d sacrifice themselves for him, friends who’d do anything for him. THAT’S the power of love, not some bullshit ~special pure pureness of the heart of Harry Christ our lord and savior~. Harry isn’’t unfailingly kind or uniquely loving or whatever the shit. Harry is a run-of-the-mill teenager who has such obscene luck I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he was conceived under the influence of Lucky Potion.

You just showed me you’re a member of the Church of Harry Christ and I’m not interested in joining. Dear God I thought I was too attached to fictional characters but wow am I glad I’m not at your level.

Also one more thing: “tortured” someone?

Sure. A painful stunner is DEF torture (that’s legit all his Crucio did; it acted as a painful stunner. It threw Carrow backwards and hurt him while it did. Crucio isn’t even close to that when performed properly)

............ you... you fucking little hypocrite.

You filthy, lying, little bitch cunt of a fucking hypocrite.

Remember when I said the next person who’d try to lie to me to pity poor wee widdle Hawwy would be sorry? You pathetic little piece of shit. If you’re so in luuurve with your precious cuntfuck of a camera archetype you’d accept EVERYTHING about him, wouldn’t you? Haha, but noooo. “Oh wee poor Hawwy only used a painful stunner :)))))))” you fucking little bitch. Oh you accuse ME of trying to “make Hawwy not special :(((” but you... YOU... Hahahaha sorry everyone. I have a slight aversion to people blatantly trying to gaslight me. You may find me getting a little bit angry if you happen to trod on this trigger of mine.

Let’s see that again shall we? Open your eyes and your chakras, bitch, we’re going for a ride.

“It’s not a case of what you’ll permit, Minerva McGonagall. You time’s over. It’s us what’s in charge here now, and you’ll back me up or you’ll pay the price.” And he spat in her face. Harry pulled the Cloak off himself, raised his wand, and said, “You shouldn’t have done that.” As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!” The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor. “I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.” - Deathly Hallows

If I could reach through my screen to force you to look at the relevant bits, I would. And I’d also slap you in passing. Yknow, just so you think twice before being a stinking fucking hypocrite again in the future.

Now, let’s do some actual literary analysis that isn’t your ~wah hawwy puwe of heawt luuurrrve~ diarrhea you’re still trying to paint my poor innocent blog with.

Now let’s see that PaInFuL sTuNnEr in detail:

He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain 

In bold so you can see it very well. Admire the curve of each letter, the angles and the lines. And most of all, interpret the meaning of each and every word. Watch how he’s compared to “a drowning man”, do you know how excruciatingly painful and distressing it is to drown? How the air fills your lungs as you claw desperately for the surface, trying to find something to cling to, anything, the feeling of your lungs filling with this foreign substance you cannot spit back out? The feeling of fading away as all your oxygen is consumed by the futility of your hopeless flailing, your muscles losing their strength, your panic dulling as you slip into unconsciousness and water claims yet another victim...

Of course, drowning people don’t thrash and howl in pain. Because all they’re focused on is trying to BREATHE. But Amycus’ focus isn’t on trying to breathe. Amycus is only focus on Harry’s Crucio and the pain it’s bringing him.

But sure Anon. A pAiNfUl StUnNeR. Fuck you.

and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass 

Now I’m aware Dummywood has made you believe that glass can be traversed easy without any consequences but real glass doesn’t work like that. Real glass takes some force to shatter. Real glass shatters into hundreds of tiny pieces that embed themselves into your flesh and skin, kinda like... oh! Kinda like that glass chandelier that fell on Hermione, once. After she herself was Crucio’d if I remember well. Hmm, by whom exactly, I have it on the tip of my tongue...

“I see what Bellatrix meant,” 

Ah yes. By the woman who tortured to insanity Neville’s parents and whom Harry is literally acknowledging as having taught him this particular lesson.

Harry himself is TELLING US HE LISTENED TO BELLATRIX’S ADVICE. ON FUCKING TORTURING PEOPLE. But “a PaInFuL sTuNnEr He’S aN oRpHaN :’‘‘(((((”. Fuck off. Fuck off, Anon. Fuck off and learn to fucking read.

Ah but I got ahead of myself! We’re not even CLOSE to the point!

he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor 

So Amycus gets tortured - or, as Anon astutely put it, pAiNfUl StUnNeR - smashes through a sheet of glass, and gets knocked out.

Hmm. Now if Harry just took out a knife and brought it to Carrow’s neck, he’d be worthy of being called Bellatrix’s faithful apprentice.

And now I’m gonna quote one of my Quora answers again because my followers deserve better than to see me completely lose my mind at some anonymous cowardly cunt trying to lie to my fucking face.

On the topic of Harry’s Crucios:

This could mean that Harry is scarily proficient at casting Crucio, that Amycus has low pain tolerance or that he was knocked out when he fell, but regardless of the meaning, IT’S NOT GOOD. EVEN IF IT’S A DEATH EATER, EVEN IF HE PROBABLY DESERVES COMEUPPANCE - IT’S NOT HARRY’S JOB TO GIVE OUT SAID COMEUPPANCE.

(Like, can I please remind everyone that Harry is supposed to be the Jesus Christ of his story? In the Bible we never have Jesus Christ torturing the pharisees or any of those who didn’t believe in him. Just… you’re telling me Jesus “Peace and Love” Christ would torture people… what the hell, Joanne?)

“I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.”

…………………….. Um. Harry, what the fuck are you doing???! He’s taken Bellatrix’s advice! He actually relates to the insane sadistic terrorist! He is capable of using a curse that literally requires sadism to work!

(Again, when someone tells me “Jesus Christ”, “sadism” isn’t the first word that would come to my mind.)

At least there’s some sort of reaction. “the blood thundering through his brain”. But that’s a very… nondescriptive reaction. Is it the “adrenaline pumping in my veins” blood? Is it the “holy shit what have I done” blood? Is it the “I could get used to this” blood?

We don’t know. We’ll never know.

Alright, skipping to the part that interests us -

She struggled to pull herself together. “Potter, that was foolish!”

Eh, I’d have said “tactically unsound” (what if Amycus wasn’t knocked out), “monstrous” (that’s Bellatrix’s favourite curse you’re using, Harry), “insane” (re: Bellatrix), but yeah, I guess “foolish” would also cover it.

“He spat at you,” said Harry.

Ever heard of Disproportionate Retribution, Harry? A few fascists regimes all over the world were especially fond of it.

Then I’m skipping over the one thing that causes the most outrage because I’ll go back to it soon, just let me finish with this:

“[…] but don’t you realize — ?” “Yeah, I do,” Harry assured her. Somehow her panic steadied him.

I guess we can imagine that McGee is saying “don’t you realize what you’ve just done?”

Harry “assures” her he realizes. Harry knows. Harry has just used the literal goddamn Torture Curse and he’s totally cool with it. Or, if he was uncool with it, now he’s cool with it. Because “her panic steadied him”. So seeing McGonagall panic makes Harry think “yeah, using Crucio was the right thing to do”.

Well then! Onwards then, Dark Lord Potter! First it’s just one Crucio, then it’s just three, then it’s just one little murder of one lowly little naysayer, then it’s only a little more murder…

And now we’ll go back a smidge, because how are we supposed to react?

How are we supposed to reconcile the idea of Harry, who’s supposed to save us all through his Power of Love, with the Harry that has just tortured a man into inconsciousness?

Even if that man was a Death Eater, Harry is supposed to be the Christ-like figure. He’s supposed to be love and forgiveness incarnate. Heck, not a hundred pages later he’ll offer forgiveness to freaking Voldemort! He forgives Draco Malfoy, he forgives Albus Dumbledore, he forgives Severus Snape!

So how do we reconcile Harry Potter The Forgiver with Harry Potter The Torturer? Tell us, O Author! Tell us how to navigate the murky, twisted depths of human morality!!

“Potter, I — that was very — very gallant of you — […]”

…

…………………

………………………………………………

That was… gallant?

Gallant?

Wait, doesn’t gallantry imply some form of honor?

As in, not taking your opponent by surprise -

Harry pulled the Cloak off himself, raised his wand…

As in, facing your opponent head-on instead of hitting them in the back -

As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted…

As in, not torturing your opponent???

He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain

That’s… unless the definition has changed, nothing about this is gallant…

Let me just -

(of a man) polite and kind towards women, especially when in public

showing no fear of dangerous or difficult things

Alright, so, Amycus isn’t a woman, so Harry can’t, by definition, be “gallant” to him.

Still, being “polite and kind” to a woman didn’t involve “torturing someone who disrespected her”, last time I checked. Punching an asshole harrassing her, definitely *pats Ron*, but torturing that asshole… no, just no.

And well, I guess casting Cruciatus is a difficult thing to do… and Harry didn’t seem very afraid to do it… that’s not supposed to be a good thing, but apparently, now it is…?

What made that

As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!”

more gallant than

“What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!”

After all, they’re the exact same thing. Torture. Inflicting tremendous pain upon someone for the heck of it.

Why do people lose their heads over Harry using Crucio, when they seem to neglect the fact that Draco Malfoy cast it?

Well, easy enough - Draco Malfoy is an evil little cockroach. The guy wished death upon people, he bragged about the fact that his Daddy dearest was a terrorist who killed people. It’s not too surprising that an evil little cockroach like him would find it acceptable to torture someone he considers “not human”, isn’t it?

What’s more surprising however, is that the hero, Harry Potter, who has been subjected to the Torture Curse, whose only use of the Torture Curse previously was when he felt distress and pain unlike any other, that Harry Potter whom is supposed to be a hero and some sort of role model, would actually manage to use said Torture Curse even though it requires real sadism to actually work.

And what’s even worse is that Harry Potter casts that curse, that literal Torture Curse, and instead of being rightly horrified, instead of being terrified by the boy’s use of such a heinous spell, instead of saying “alright Harry, you’re not doing this again, ever, right?”, instead…

Instead McGonagall calls Harry “gallant”, instead of telling him off for using such a curse. She briefly calls him “foolish”, but it doesn’t register, really, since she ends up calling him “gallant”.

That’s what angers people. That the Torture Curse is the most horrible, awful thing you can do to people… unless you’re Harry Potter, in which case it is a little “foolish”, but mostly “gallant”.

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

But of course, little Anon over here isn’t angered. Because little Anon is a faithful devoted member of the Church of Harry Christ Our Lord And Saviour. Little Anon can say enormities like A pAiNfUl StUnNeR and believe it with the whole force of their little Anon heart, because uwu Hawwy speshul orphan pure lurve uwu.

Little Anon, please get the fuck out of my blog and never, ever come back. I’m sure this arrangement will be beneficial for everyone involved.

[duchessfics]

Underestimation

(https://duchessfics.tumblr.com/post/612885556559593472)

Billie, Reader x Wilhemina

Requested by @urleastfavtree​: Can I request either Billie or Mina where they’re out at a bar and some guys are challenging themselves to get the waitresses (reader’s) number and then Billie/Mina asks for it right in front of the guys and they get the number and a kiss too???

Warning(s): Guys being dudes, Mentions of alcohol, Mentions of police, Brief bar fight (but nothing too serious)

Summary: While bartending, the reader has to deal with some sleazy business men, and in the process she meets one of her biggest idols. However, things get complicated when her girlfriend shows up to pick her up from work.

Word Count: 3875

A/n: I hope this turned out alright @urleastfavtree​. I know I kind of veered off from what you requested, but this idea crossed my mind and I couldn’t shake it off. 😊

While Billie didn’t imagine herself ending up at some bar in downtown LA, today’s location for her newest TV special was more intense than she anticipated. Of course years of experience have helped her to conjure up a white light of protection when necessary. But the aura of illumination can only do so much. It doesn’t prevent the ever-present anxiety of the unknown or sleepless nights due to nightmares from past interactions with the paranormal.

So that is why the medium is perched on a barstool, nursing a third glass of red wine and contemplating if some whiskey will be her next choice of beverage.

The low-lit room is practically empty, allowing the classic rock music to softly fill the room with the occasional snickers emitted from the small group of businessmen nearby and the light clink of the freshly washed glasses you replace on the racks behind the bar.

While you hear the men muttering amongst themselves with sporadic bursts of laughter, you remain focused on your task. Even though you’re a bartender, there is something about men that is unnerving to you. Of course you try to keep pleasant, but avoid any other non-essential interactions. Just thirty more minutes until you close. Then you’re free to go home.

“Hey, sweetheart, we’ll take another round of beers.” 

Sweetheart. 

You take a second to compose yourself, transforming your clenched jaw into a pleasant smile and turning to face the three men.

“Same beer?” You chirp, trying to ignore their roaming eyes.

The man who seems to be the ringleader sports a wolfish grin as he responds, “Whatever you think, darlin’.” For a second your lip tremors and nearly curls up in disgust. But you catch yourself and squat behind the counter to open the fridge and grab 3 beers. As you hold them by their necks, you take a deep breath to calm your nerves and temper. 

They’re just lonely. Think of the tips. They have designer suits on and if you play nice they may be generous.

When you stand back up, your pleasant façade is back in place and you remove the bottlecaps, setting the drinks before each man. In an effort to avoid speaking, you keep your eyes downcast as you take their empty bottles. However you make the mistake of meeting the gaze of the man with icy blue eyes. He takes a swig of his beer before saying with a smirk, “Thanks, doll.” You nod in acknowledgement sporting a reserved smile and put the bottles in the box containing the other empty bottles. Then you pick up the container and try not to run into the kitchen on your way to dump the discarded bottles into the recycling out back.

The blonde near the opposite end of the bar doesn’t miss the exchange, rolling her eyes at the men’s words. And when you disappear behind the door, the one who thanked you turns to the others and claims, “I bet I could get her number.” Then one who originally asked for beers scoffs and sneers, “She didn’t even look at you. Besides if anyone would get her number it’s me.”

Then the third one with slicked back jet black hair comments, “You both talk too much. I guarantee that if I asked for her number right now she would melt.” Their assertions make Billie softly chuckle, but she swallows her sounds down with a sip of wine before the men can notice. While she thinks this behavior is childish, it’s pretty typical. However, the medium nearly smashes the glass she holds when Mr. blue eyes makes a proposition:

“I’ll bet 50 bucks I can get her number first.”

“Only 50? I’m in.”

“Me too.”

Then the one who proposed the bet says, “And even if one of you somehow gets her before me, which I highly doubt will happen. But if it does...well…I don’t mind sloppy seconds.”

His comment makes all three of them snicker and they murmur words of agreement. Then, as if on cue, you re-enter the bar area with a small bucket of steaming water and washcloth.

You hear the men hiss indistinct words amongst themselves, but actively ignore them, setting the bucket towards the middle of the bar and wringing the excess water out of the rag before starting to wipe down the countertops. Unfortunately, the talkative leader clears his throat and asks, “So you’ve worked here awhile?”

You continue to wipe the counter clean, keeping your back to them as you answer, “Not really. Just about 6 months.”

Billie has to stifle another chuckle when the man who spoke grumbles at being practically ignored. So much for being suave.

Sadly, the cloth can only go so far, and you have to return to the bucket, making eye contact with the ringleader as he asks, “Well how did a pretty girl like yourself end up here?”

Jesus Christ. The arrogance of this man!

After swirling the wash cloth around in the soapy water, you wring out the excess water while replying in an attempt at a casual tone, “I gotta pay my bills somehow. This was just the first job that hired me when I moved here.” His eyebrows raise and he states, “Well I have plenty of friends in high places, darlin’. If you gave me your phone number I could get you a real nice job.” You can’t help but laugh at his supposedly generous offer and assure him, “I’m good for the moment. But thanks.” Then you step away to continue wiping down the counter, missing his enraged expression.

Billie smirks in amusement as she watches the other two silently tease him. Then the one with blue eyes looks in your direction to make his move. He smoothly says, “I’m sure it gets lonely sometimes. It’s nice to have some friends around, doll. I’ll make a deal with you: if you give me your number, I’ll give you mine.”

This time you don’t stop your motions, rolling your eyes as you answer in a firmer tone, “I’d rather not.”

The medium notices your clenched jaw and decides to grant you some reprieve. So she finishes off the rest of her wine in one generous-sized drink before asking in a calm tone, “Could I have another drink please? Whenever you have the chance, of course.” You look up to the blonde and silently thank her, rushing over to her side while answering, “Yes.” The other bartender must have served her earlier, because you would recognize that face and voice anywhere.

Billie Dean Howard.

But you don’t want to make her uncomfortable by acting star-struck. You’ve seen other celebrities here and nothing annoys them more than a pestering fan. When you meet her dark brown eyes, it’s fortunate that the lighting is dim so she can’t see your flustered expression. You take the empty wine glass before asking, “Same drink?”

The medium lets out a low hum while her eyes scan over the numerous bottles along the back wall of the bar. Then she looks to you and replies, “Actually I’ll take some whiskey.” So you pull down the bottle and take your time pouring the amber liquid into a fresh glass tumbler.

While you do, Billie softly asks, “Do you get guys like them often?” The question makes you let out a sigh of relief and you set the bottle back on the liquor shelf before looking to her and softly replying, “Depends on the night. But I’m glad someone else notices.” She smiles and holds out her hand while stating, “I’m—”

But you finish her sentence, “Billie Dean Howard. Medium of the stars.” You take her hand and shake it as you quickly stutter, “I-I didn’t mean to cut you off. It’s just…I’m a big fan.” But she just chuckles and releases your hand picking up the glass while murmuring with a raised eyebrow, “I take it you’ve seen some of my work?” You look down to the glossy tabletop as you admit, “I’ve watched you since your first lifetime special. I—I love your work Miss Howard.”

But you look to her and quickly apologize before assuring her, “I don’t mean to sound obsessive or anything—”

She chuckles and soothes, “You’re fine, sweetheart.” However she immediately stiffens and says, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say sweetheart. I’ve probably drank too much—”

But you cut her off and say with a smile, “No—No it’s ok. When you say it, it feels different.” She relaxes a little and takes a long swig of her drink, letting out a soft hiss at the warmth in her throat and cheeks. Then she goes to say something, but one of the men distinctly clears his throat making you look over.

It’s the one who hasn’t spoken to you holds up his bottle before saying, “I need another beer, sugar.” 

Another beer your ass. He was just jealous of the attention you were giving to Billie.

The woman across from you doesn’t miss the low growl in your throat. But you dutifully walk over and reply, “After this round I’ll have to cut you off since we’re closing.”

All three of the men’s eyes darken and the one who asked for another beer teases, “Awe come on, darlin’. We won’t stay long.” But you look to them and softly reply, “I’m afraid it isn’t up to me. But there’s a bar down the street that stays open later.” 

In response he purrs, “But if we go there we won’t be able to see your pretty face. I promise we’ll make it worth your time, sugar.” Your stomach churns and you feel nauseous with the way he looks at you like a piece of meat. And to your embarrassment, you find yourself weakly stuttering out, “I-I’m sorry. But my manager would be really upset.” Before anymore can be said you take their empty bottles and replace them with new ones, keeping your eyes downcast.

Fortunately the men don’t say anything to stop you besides muttering amongst themselves. When you go back to wiping the counter closer to Billie. Her chocolate brown eyes twinkle as she mischievously asks, “Are you gonna have to cut me off too?” Her false innocence causes you to smile before replying, “I’m afraid so, Miss Howard.”

She takes another sip, warming her body even more as she purrs, “Please, call me Billie.” You look up and notice her flushed cheeks and unfocused gaze. She is at least tipsy but looks to be closer to drunk. However, she does remain poised for the state she’s in and still looks devastatingly beautiful.

You both quietly observe each other for a moment before you look down to the counters you clean. Billie finishes off her drink, starting to feel the effects of drinking that whiskey so fast. Then she quietly says, “They were right about having friends in high places.”

You place the rag back in the water to rinse it and wring out the excess as you admit, “Probably.” Then you say in a softer tone, “But I don’t think I want their friends.” The blonde nods in understanding and looks down to her one finger that casually traces the rim of the now empty glass as she asks, 

“What if I could help you out? Only if you’re interested of course.” 

You pause your movements, mouth gaped in shock. But you manage to snap your mouth shut and ask, “Y-You would do that for me? But I’m no one special. I mean…I’m just a mediocre bartender.”

Billie chuckles and ceases her movements before looking up to you and answering, “I would be happy to. And you are special.” Her compliment sends you over the moon and you can’t stop grinning like an idiot. 

Billie Dean Howard just called you special. Does it get any better than that?

“Thank you Miss—I mean, Billie.”

She chuckles and replies, “You’re welcome. Could I get your name and number to contact you?” The way she looks to you with her warm brown eyes doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable. So you rip off a piece of paper off of the pad where you write down orders and jot down your cell phone number and name.

Maybe it’s because Billie’s drank too much or that she hasn’t slept with someone in a hot minute, but the way you bite your lip in concentration as you write makes her insides pool. Then when you look to her again and smile with the outside corners of your eyes crinkling a little at the movement, she feels a sense of desire filling her.

You slide her the slip of paper and say, “Thank you again, Billie. I definitely owe you one.” In the process, she gently takes your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours as she purrs, “You don’t owe me anything, sweetheart. I’m just happy to help.”

As she looks to you, the medium leans closer and says in a low purr, “Y/n is a beautiful name.” 

She doesn’t want to—she wouldn’t be kissing you, right? 

She keeps coming closer so you stutter out, “Billie, um, I-I didn’t mean to lead you on like that. You see I have—”

But you get cut off by your partner snarling, “Who the hell is this?” That’s when you see the woman in purple at the end of the bar. Her lip is curled, and she looks to Billie with nearly black eyes and if you don’t intervene now, the medium may be joining those she interviews permanently.

So you run over to your girlfriend and soothe, “It was just a misunderstanding, Mina. She’s had a lot to drink.” Then you cup her face and encourage her to look at you before you say, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. If you want, you can wait in the car. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She looks to you with those darkened eyes and you see a hint of hurt and betrayal behind the rage.

So you kiss her lips and whisper, “We can talk about it after I close. No secrets. She’s just drunk and got the wrong idea, Mina. I promise.”

Then Billie walks up, but doesn’t come too close before saying, “I’m sorry. She’s right. She never acted towards me; I’ve had too much to drink. But this is my fault. She was just saying that she had a girlfriend.”

By now your girlfriend has an arm draped around your waist and holds you possessively close. But you sense the heat of her initial rage stabilizing as she looks to you and asks in a low voice, “You were?” You wrap both of your arms around her and reply, “Yes. I know what it looked like, but I promise you, Mina you’re my girl. And I’m yours completely.” 

She pauses and you can sense the wheels turning in her head as she tries to decipher the truth. But she lets out a breath and says in a quiet voice, “I’ll just wait in the car.” You give her a small smile and press a kiss to her lips.

But the moment gets cut off by one of the men saying, “You would really choose her over one of us?”

That makes all three of you look over and you’ve had enough of their bullshit. Your eyes narrow and you shoot back, “Yes. I would.”

The man with blue eyes scoffs and comments, “But you don’t look like a lesbian. You dress so…normal.” That makes your blood boil and you don’t prevent your upper lip from curling as you sneer, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Now the lead man steps forward, and you back away from Mina to stand on your own so you face them directly. He looks to Billie and says, “Well the blonde,” then he pauses, looking her over before continuing, “she could go either way. And the ginger…” he trails off as he eyes her up and down. After a moment, his eyes return to yours and he asks,

“Are you sure you’re really into chicks, sweetheart? Maybe your past experience with men was lacking. But I can treat you like you deserve so you won’t have to settle for... less.”

That son of a bitch.

Rather than answering with words, you walk up and slam your fist into his jaw and keep punching as you yell, “Going out with you would be settling for less you piece of shit!” As you bust his nose and blood gushes out enough to get on your clothes and he yells, “Call the police!” Then you knee him where it counts, sending him down to the ground with a cry.

Once he’s down you run at the man with blue eyes and manage to punch him as you scream, “My girlfriend is better than any of you will ever be! You’re just some fucking perverts!” But before you can knock him or the other man down, two sets of arms wrap around yours, holding you back. You squirm in their grasp and only see red as you growl, “Let me go! They deserve this! The fucking bastards!”

But Billie uses her strength to hold you back on your left side while Wilhemina leans close on your right side. Then she says in an unusually soothing tone, “Hey, it’s ok, darling.” You thrash and roar, “But they insulted you! You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

You see the red and blue lights flash outside of the bar and an officer enters the building. Immediately the men spring into action showing off the damage you enacted on them. That’s when you stop resisting and realize what the consequences of your actions could be. The officer doesn’t handcuff you, but you have to ride with him to the police station where both Wilhemina and Billie promise to meet you…

While Wilhemina Venable would never be caught in such a compromised position hugging you close to her while rubbing your back and murmuring soothing words in public. She not only permits this behavior but encourages you to keep close as you weep into her lilac dress.

Why did this have to be your fault? When you tried to explain to the officer how they were treating you, he said there was no evidence of harassment or threat. And with how injured the one man was, charges could be pressed. This is all your fault. You’ll be lucky to keep your job after this

Between your in-depth interview with the police, the men’s hurtful words, and the time now being around 2 in the morning the tears that pour from your eyes seem impossible to stop. Your face is buried in Mina’s chest and she keeps her arms wrapped around you protectively watching Billie calmly speak with the three men.

Even though the medium is still slightly inebriated, she keeps a charming smile on her lips and warm eyes as if discussing the weather. But Wilhemina also notices that her posture remains tall and her arms are crossed over her middle in an unapologetic stance. Then she gestures over to your trembling figure and the men look to you both. Automatically, the red head holds you slightly closer and looks at them with a cold stare. They speak a little longer and eventually the men walk away.

Billie takes a moment to let out the breath she had been holding and walks over to you, wobbling just a little in her heels. Once she’s close enough, the blonde says, “They aren’t going to press charges.” 

Mina relaxes a little and asks, “What made them decide not to?” By this point, you’ve peeked your head up to look at her and she smirks before replying in a sly voice, “I have my ways.” She gives you a warm smile, but your lip tremors and you rasp, “I’m so sorry for pulling you into this, Billie. I can’t believe I was so stupid—”

She kneels before you and takes one of your hands before soothing, “Don’t say that, sweet girl.” Billie looks to the woman who holds you, making sure she isn’t getting too close, but the woman in purple doesn’t seem bothered. Instead she continues her sentiments, saying, “They were provoking you in the hopes of getting a reaction. If anything, they were stupid for underestimating how you would react.”

Then the medium lets out a small chuckle and says, “You should have seen their faces when you threw the first punch.” Wilhemina smiles too, making you duck your head to hide your grin. Billie brushes her thumb over your knuckles for a moment before releasing your hand and standing up.

The movement causes you to look up and see the blonde watching you both. Then she says, “I want to apologize again about the misunderstanding earlier.” 

Your girlfriend shakes her head and hesitantly replies, “I overreacted before knowing the truth. But I should thank you for speaking with them about not pressing charges.” You look at her with wide eyes, shocked that she would actually admit error on her part to someone she just met.

And Mina surprises you even more when she asks, “Is there any way we could make it up to you?” 

Did Wilhemina Venable just ask that? 

In response, Billie gives a demure smile and casually replies, “Well…we could go out to dinner sometime. I wouldn’t mind the company of two beautiful women.” Then she has the audacity to give the red head a wink, and Mina actually blushes. The woman blushes. This whole ordeal may have a silver lining after all.

Your girlfriend’s reaction makes you giggle and Billie sports a wicked grin as she purrs, “I have y/n’s number so I can let you know when I’m available.” The woman in purple still seems stunned by the medium’s forwardness so you reply, “Oh we will. Thanks again, Billie.” Then she says goodbye and walks away.

Once she’s out of the police station, you chuckle and tease, “She really flustered you, didn’t she?” 

Wilhemina clears her throat and rolls her eyes before replying, “It merely surprised me. That’s all.” You both stand up and begin to walk out to your car. And as you do, you comment, “I guess Billie may not be so bad after all. Maybe we could even get to know her a little better.”

The red head lets out a humorless laugh and replies, “Don’t push your luck, dear.” You both get in the car and begin to drive home. As you do, your phone lights up with a text:

I’m available Friday night if you’re interested in dinner? -Billie

You read her text out loud while Mina drives and she keeps quiet. So you wait a moment before asking, “How should I respond?” The red head taps her fingers on the steering wheel and slowly replies, “Friday works.” 

Her calm demeanor surprises you and you ask, “You’re sure? We don’t have to go out with her if you’re not comfortable.”

Your girlfriend keeps her eyes on the road as she comments, “I’m sure. She seems…interesting. I wouldn’t mind talking to her more.” You smile to yourself and text back,

Friday works. I think you have a captive audience with Mina, which is very rare. 

After a couple minutes, Billie responds, 

I’ll make a reservation. And I’m glad she’s interested. I’m interested in getting to know both of you as well. I look forward to seeing you both again.

You smile at her response and put your phone away, looking forward to getting some sleep and your dinner with Billie Dean Howard.

Tagged:  @marilynroselleprentiss, @saviorinsilk​, @chokemepaulson​, @versonstar​, @find-me-a-constellation​, @cordwliagoode​, @psychobitchtess​, @midnight-lestrange​, @mysweetdelia​, @venablesbitch​, @peachesandlesbians​

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in later works!

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

True Faith (Part 1.) (Favored Ones, Part 17.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Quote for the chapter: “I feel so extraordinary... Something's got a hold on me.” - Lotte Kestner

Part summary: Many could feel that something’s in the air when Ellie started to drift away from the reality. And the only thing that could save her and put stop to all of these thoughts was you.

A/N: Okay, okay. I know I am going against the cannon game now, because Seatlle happened at the end of March of 2038, but trust me, this slower pace will pay off in the end. And boy, does it feel good to jump back to TLOU fandom.

Warnings: Gore, angst, description of hatred and other mental states.

Word count: 3.2 K

Tagging:   @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme​​ @peakymarvels​​ @davnwillcome​ @pickleriiick​ @jodiereedus22​ @gladiosamicitias​ @tamkashi​ @eternallyvenus​ @avengerssstuff​ @fangirl-inthe-us​ @avery-miller​ @mikah-writes​ @mad-hatter-98​ @sadiaafrin99​ @flavorishy

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

"I've seen what happened down there, sugar." - A voice resonated through the darkness, suddenly. It seemed as if you were somewhere deep underwater. There were this cracking sounds inside of your head, making your ears ache, yet the burden you were feeling in your heart was way worse than that. But the voice was sharp, almost deafening. And sadly, you wouldn't change the voice with anyone else's. It felt nice, but horrifying at the same time to hear her. - "How are you holdin' up, hm? You're still sure you'll outrun me in a race?"

Slowly, you took a breath in, looking around you as you stood there. It was the fucking pottery shop you've been in, the one you've visited her in a thousand times. The one you remembered by your heart. And your heart was sinking low when you saw her... Just sitting there. As if she never actually left you in Jackson alone. She was looking at the machine in front of her, making a mug out of scratch. Just like the last time you've had a proper conversation with the lady. Well... You've spoken at the hospital, but... The pottery shop reminded you of Eve the most.

"Given how your leg looks like, I suppose you ain't be runnin' for quite a long time, honey." - The woman smiled at one of her creations, slowly taking it to her palm as she started to draw another of her flowers on it.

"You're dead, you know that, right?" - You answered in a joking manner. Jesus, they must've given you some darn good drugs for you to reach such a state. No matter if it were the soldiers or Bobby, they did hella good job. - "I've been talking to your tombstone for the last few months." - At that, Eve gave you a nasty grin, tapping the side of her head with her index finger.

"As long as you're aware of it, I know it. You're not so dumb that you'd make out this is real, huh?" - The woman asked you with a light chuckle at the end, leaning her back into the chair. Sure, it was obvious that you're talking to yourself. But your brain didn't want to syke you out, even more, to present you sitting... Somewhere. It could be also Joel or Ellie whom your brain would choose to project... But it was her. - "I thought that. But really, Miller? You, sugar, are surprisin' me even when I'm dead, I tell you that."

"You've caught a few words from Tommy and Joel here and there, but you never spoke like a Texas-born woman." - You answered instead of straight answering the lady. At that, she chuckled, shook her head, and looked at you. She seemed... Different. As if she got younger. She had fewer wrinkles and her eyes were full of life.

"I'm just what you've made of me, you know? This is how you remember me now. So thanks for agein' me down a bit. Also, the accent suits me, huh?" - The woman said. Technically yeah, you said to yourself, but that wasn't the subject of the conversation at the moment. - "That's what you wanted, hm? And I can understand that. Have my wrinkly face on your mind all the time... It would sadden me too." - She joked around, making you sadden at the statement. That was exactly what you wanted to happen. And until that point, it was working. But now, you wanted to remember Eve just the way she was, with all her wrinkles, grins and jokes.  

"Do you realize... That if you wouldn't go on the patrol with Tommy... Then maybe, the man you've fallen in love with would be dead? Most likely?" - Eve leaned her head to her shoulder, sending you a concerned look.

"What good does it bring when I'm most likely dead?" - You asked back immediately. The imagination inside your head chuckled, looking away for a moment. - "If you'd be dead, sugar, we wouldn't be havin' this conversation at all. Dyin', yeah, sure, maybe, but dead? Hell no." - The woman dismissed with a dry chuckle, getting up on her legs to pour herself a glass of water.

"What now?" - Eve asked you, looking out of the window into the void around the pottery shop. For a moment, you were looking at her back, and because she knew you don't know what to say, she started to talk again. - "I mean... These people are there somewhere. Abby and Owen ran away just when your friends showed up. Doesn't that make you worried, honey?" - Her voice was resonating through your ears, there were still these cracking sounds inside your ears. What you've been trying to tell to yourself? Did it make any sense?

"What is your point?" - You asked after a moment of thinking, having the old woman turning to you. Suddenly, her face started to re-shift into someone else as the surroundings changed with it, making you dizzy in the process. Of course, it was Joel's house, and you had to close your eyes instead of looking at the man, falling on the ground right after as you threw up. You were panicking, Abby's face was flashing in front of your eyes accompanied by the manic expression in her face. The whole thing was about Joel, right? So this was what your brain immediately clicks to when you'll see him? Abby and her knife? Jesus Christ, it was a lot take in.

But as soon as the man touched your shoulder, it was like flipping the card around - finding yourself in his embrace as you both were falling asleep just hours before the patrol. But the touch wasn't making you feel good at all. To be honest, your eyes were slowly slipping towards the window as you searched for something in the darkness. It took you a long time to figure out where she was standing, but when you did... She was still standing there, looking into the window. And you were watching her back.

Hell, you couldn't make out what the fuck was that all about, but you've been trapped in a loop, circling between Joel and Abby. And you couldn't tell how long is that going to take. And neither could they.

Meanwhile, in Jackson:

The weather got drastically better after everything went down. At least the blizzards had stopped and the sun was slowly melting the snow everywhere. The Jackson was just going forward, not stopping because of what happened. Why should the whole city stop because of two people? Sure, people were saddened by what happened to you, but it wasn't their business in the slightest. Some animals needed to be taken care of, clothes to be repaired and pottery to be made. Tommy was a prominent figure in the hierarchy of Jackson, but the whole responsibility was put directly on Maria's shoulders.

There was one person whose world had stopped completely. All they did was that they sit at their home all the time, trying to think of a single reason why the fuck would someone do such terrible things to other human beings without having the reason to? Something like a regular sleep schedule? They didn't know what was that? The image of Tommy laying in blood on the ground was still carved inside their brain as they woke up every night with nightmares.

If there was something that needed to be said about Tommy, he was alive. Alive, yet not awaken. There was many possible outcomes for Tommy - he could wake up and have a memory loss. He could wake up and be crippled, whether physically or mentally. Tommy may never have the chance to talk like normal people. And... Bobby was sure that his condition is stable for now, but really, there was also a possibility they overlooked even the smallest crack in his skull. As soon as Joel brought the boy, Bobby started to check his skull, stopping the bleeding - when that was done, she sewed and took care of the wound, moving on to his broken knee and left forearm. And there was the possibility that he has a concussion, internal bleeding, and many other things. The people did a number on him.

And as for Y/N... Holy fuck. Bobby had never seen such screwed up ligaments above the knee. They also needed to tear a few nails off your fingers because the nails completely tore if off from the nail beds. It was pretty disgusting, sure, but Bobby was trying to keep you alive. While no-one was sure if Tommy has internal bleeding, Bobby almost cried with happiness when she was sure you didn't have it - as soon as your nose was put back in place, and it wasn't as swollen as when Dina brought you in, your breathing got into the normal state. Also, your pulse was checking up perfectly, so apart from the reality that your upper thigh muscles were ripped apart.

Sure, most likely, you'll be able to walk normally once again... After some time. But it was obvious that you'll be climbing for a few months at least. But most likely, you were about to be okay.

This was making the person at least a bit calm. But Ellie couldn't help herself - she wasn't falling asleep at night, all she could do was to think about the persons. Who were they? Where did they come from? Sure, she went back to the cabin to look through it, but not even the dead man Dina had shoot had nothing on his. These people were ready to leave at any given time. These weren't some stupid hunters, cannibals, or anyone like that. These people knew what they were doing. But... What did they search for? Why did they need to fuck you up when you were innocent? How did you and Tommy even get into the fucking cabin in the first place? Did they drag you in?

Ellie sat in the cabin for quite some time, on the couch, watching the stain of Tommy's blood, remembering every second of finding her uncle laying there, barely breathing and unconscious. The golf club was thrown on the ground and the window was opened up as someone ran away from the room. Now, it was too late to look for them, which was making Ellie more desperate to find them. The snow was now far gone, they didn't leave anything behind - inside or outside the house.

It didn't matter how much Dina was trying to make Ellie smile again - Ellie was still wearing the same expression, barely talking, looking into the ground as the incident wasn't leaving her head. She was only waiting for you or Tommy to wake up - and as soon as she'd hear who they were, she was ready to sneak out and come for each of them. It was inside her every time the opened the door to her house. As soon as she unlocked it, the image of Tommy laying in his blood just flashed in front of her eyes, making her panic for a second. Usually, she sat down on her bed, put a hand on her chest, and tried to breathe deeply. Soon enough, she stopped crying every time she saw Tommy on the ground.

The rage which has gotten into her once she was you fucked up on the chair as you frantically mumbled something to Jesse hadn't left her for a single second. It was making her sick from her stomach, hopeless and... She felt hatred for everything around her. Once, someone had a dumb comment regarding her and Dina, and even though she didn't say a word to the person, she threw her plate on the ground, walking straight to them. Maria, thanks to God, has stopped Ellie in the last second, catching her and dragging her away.

Not even Joel wasn't able to make her talk, no matter how hard the man tried to get at least a word out of her. Sure, she was now spending time at his place a lot, because what happened was a family catastrophe and they both needed to carry the other one through what happened. But she never spoke to him.

Yet, there were moments when Ellie spoke to someone. The problem was that you couldn't answer her. She wasn't exactly speaking anyway. She brought her guitar with her, the one which was in Joel's bedroom, singing to you while they waited for you to wake up. Sometimes, she sang you Take On Me, and other times, she pulled out Johnny Cash, since Joel told her that these are your favorites. Sure, she was a was perfectly aware that singing won't help you recover sooner, but it was probable that it will make you at least feel better.

Her fingers were picking the strings lazily as she proceeded to play the slow melody which was reflecting everything going on inside of her at the moment. Ellie didn't know that Dina was standing behind the door the whole time, but it relieved her girlfriend when she heard Ellie singing. Yet no matter how relieved she felt, she didn't dare to interrupt the moment happening in the room. It took Ellie another twenty minutes to finish the small concert for one person before she put the guitar down, looking at you sleeping on the bed. At that, Dina finally entered the room to change the artificial nutrition hanging next to your bed, sending Ellie one shy smile.

"You've been listening behind the door, weren't you?" - The redhaired girl asked quietly, shifting her focus from you to Dina. Her girlfriend just smiled but didn't give a straightaway answer right away.

"You are a good a singer, what can I say, baby?" - Dina whispered, making sure that everything's in check. It was a week and a half and you were still sleeping. Sure, you'd most likely be awakened by that time, but Bobby decided to keep you under the medicaments for some time - at least before your hands get in check somehow and until you wouldn't tear your muscles of your knee when you'd stand up. There was a wheelchair prepared for you, but with the amount of pus leaving the wound every morning, Bobby didn't want to rush any of it. You've been through pain and a severe shock. You needed some rest.

Of course, the medics in Jackson knew that they can't let you sleep for too long but at that point, you were still fine. That was the last thing that made Ellie still standing and being contained because she knew you'd wish so. The girl almost freaked out when Dina put her elbows around her neck, kissing the small sweet spot below her ear as both the girls watched you.

"What is going on inside your head, baby?" - Dina whispered after a small while, as she sat on your bed. While Ellie's eyes were pinned on your face, she could at least tell it is you at that time, Dina was smoothing the small strands hair off Ellie's face.

"You know what's going on in there." - Ellie muttered out, quickly flashing her look at the black-haired woman. These two were very much in love and if the incident wouldn't happen, their relationship would be most likely blossoming at the moment. But there were different thoughts inside of Ellie's head. The hatred she felt was immersive - it was almost as painful as on the day she got to know Joel had kidnapped her from the hospital and killed Marlene to protect his baby girl.

How could the man be so calm about the whole situation? It seemed that having his brother almost paralyzed and his girlfriend almost dad didn't move a single thing inside of him. At least that was what Ellie thought. Of course, he was in deep grief and an immerse state of anger, but there was nothing to do at the moment. Who would he be hunting down? Who were they? Where did they come from? Will they come back? Joel knew better than letting the anger flash out just like that. And more importantly, he knew that if you wouldn't ish to speak of them or tell him specifically to hunt them down, he won't be going on a killing spree just like that. He had a family to protect now and a future to go towards...  Yet Ellie was just nineteen-year-old kiddo, in the end, she didn't know better.

"Ellie... I'm not sure I want you to fuck around with these people. You hear me?" - Dina asked quietly, catching Ellie's palm in her hand. At that, Ellie left out a small chuckle, shaking her head.

"This isn't a thing you're deciding about. This is my own decision to make." - Sadly, Ellie was right. And Dina knew that. Even Maria, Tommy, and Joel knew that - if Ellie had decided to avenge you, there was no way they could stop her in her quest. Only you had the power do put a stop on that, and even about that, Dina wasn't sure entirely. The only way to stop Ellie was to make sure you won't tell her about the people once you or Tommy wake up... But there was this high probability of Tommy starting a witch hunt by himself because he was a hell of a proud man.

"And is it yours to make? Ellie, what if she wakes up and tells you she doesn't want to go after the people? What if Tommy wakes up and tells you he doesn't want you to go?" - The black-haired girl scoffed ironically, rolling her eyes at her girlfriend's pride. - "You don't know the first shit about these people. What are you even planning on doing?" - Dina asked quietly. She was glad that she hears Ellie talking after those few weeks, but at the moment she wasn't so sure if it was making her feel good to hear Ellie talk about what she had inside. This behavior was selfish, hasty, and suicidal. The only thing Ellie was about to archive was getting herself killed... And Dina knew that. Ellie did too, somewhere deep inside. Yet her ego and pride when it came to these things was... Huge.

"I'm gonna find... And I'm gonna kill... Every last one of them." - Ellie whispered, her eyelid twitching with anger. Slowly, she breathed out, closing her eyes. Dina watched the girl slowly pumping her palm open and close tight for a moment before Ellie gathered enough calmness to speak. - "And you can't stop it, no matter how hard you'll try, Dina. Joel can't, Maria can't... No-one can't. I'm not gonna let these fuckers get away with this." - It hurt Dina more than just some slap, knowing Ellie is already sure that no matter what, she'll get the justice she desired for you. Dina just closed her eyes for a moment before getting up to walk around the room, catching some breath.

"If you're going, I'm going." - Dina demanded silently, covering a good portion of her lips with her palms. - "But promise me that wed go only if she wishes us to go. If she tells you to stay put, you will." - Dina begged silently, knowing Ellie will find them on her own if she'd have to. But the false promise Ellie made with a silent nod calmed Dina down. It was just for a moment, but it did help somehow.

[fireblaze5555]

Fire Away: Chapter 10

Chapter 10: You Know and I Know That I’ll Always Come Back for More

Also on Ao3:  Fire Away: Chapter 10

Karen came awake slowly, a sensation on her cheek pulling her from sleep. She opened bleary eyes to see Frank, hair mussed and eyes hooded, stroking her cheek with a careful thumb.

“It’s a good thing you’re awake, I was two seconds away from dumping you in the floor, my bladder was startin’ to get impatient.” His voice was rough from sleep and Karen couldn’t understand how he managed to be sexy while also being annoying.

Scoffing she gave a dramatic stretch and pushed away from him. Once she was sitting on the edge of the cot, Karen felt Frank lay a quick kiss on the back of her head as he rose and padded barefoot to the bathroom.

Karen gave a jaw popping yawn and wondered about the time, it certainly felt too early to be up. Glancing at the surveillance monitors it looked almost pitch black outside, only a hint of graying sky showing here and there and when she looked at her phone it confirmed it was, in fact, far too early to be awake.

“Really Frank? 5:30 am? You really think that is an acceptable time to be awake?” She asked as soon as he re-appeared from the bathroom before she made a show of crawling back under the covers and pushing her face into the pillow noisily.

There was a soft chuckle from the direction of the coffee maker followed by the associated sounds of coffee being made, “It’s a hard habit to break. Doesn’t mean you have to be awake thou…”

She was asleep again before he finished speaking.

The next time Karen woke up it was to the demands of her own bladder. Pushing groggily out from under the blankets, she checked her phone to see a much more respectable 9 am, stretching as she stood and making her way to the bathroom. When she emerged it was with brushed teeth and a fresh face, shortly followed by her pouring a rather large cup of coffee.

Karen followed the sounds of exertion coming from somewhere in the small warehouse and came to an abrupt halt, nearly dropping her mug when she saw Frank. He had a chain around his waist and was doing pull ups on a crossbeam, straining with each rep. Karen’s eyes followed the movement, biceps bunching, abs contracting at every lift. He was actually glistening, sweat  trailing down dips and planes of corded muscle and gathering at the low swung sweatpants and she didn’t think it was possible the man could be any more sexy.

That is until he dropped from beam lightly, stepping over to a punching bag to go through a series of punches to a suspended bag in the corner that allowed her to also appreciate the muscled expense of his back. Goddamn, that’s not fair…

“Can I help you with something, Miss Page?” He sounded breathless but she could still pick up the teasing lilt in the question.

Snapping her mouth shut, which she hadn’t been aware was slightly ajar, Karen took a sip of her coffee trying to think of something pithy to retort. Nothing came to mind quick enough so she just gave a grunt over her cup, continuing to watch him.

After a few moments, Frank glanced over his shoulder to see that she was still watching him, Karen gave him a smirk making a show of setting her coffee down to gesture to him to continue before crossing her arms over her chest.

Raising an eyebrow at her, Frank gestured in the direction she had come from, “Don’t you have work to do? Something more interesting than me?”

The small smirk Karen had grew into a full blown, devious grin. It appeared the big bad Punisher got a little flustered when he had an audience. Sauntering forward, she gave a helpful shrug, “I was just checking your form.”

Frank gave an incredulous laugh, watching her with increasing interest as she moved toward him with purpose. “You a boxing professional now on top of everything else?”

“I punched a guy once. I could probably give you some pointers.” She teased as she came to a halt beside him. She hadn’t really had any intentions when she came further into the room but giving Frank a hard time was too tempting to pass up. However, now that she was standing close to him, eyes trailing from his raised eyebrows, down the column of his neck, following a rivulet of sweat as it snaked down his chest, seeing where the a small dark trail of hair on his lower abdomen disappeared below the sweatpants, she found her intentions were shifting. Her eyes slowly slid back up to Frank’s and the hunger there made her blood spike.

He must have seen something similar in her eyes because in an instant, Frank had lifted Karen off the ground, wrapping her legs around his waist and pinning her to the wall. They came together in a kiss that was not gentle, full of nips and and lewd noises all while she was grinding into him and he was probably leaving finger shaped bruises on her hips where he gripped her and helped guide the motion.

It was frenzied and primal and Karen could barely keep up. Her hands scrabbled at his sweat slicked shoulders while he nipped at her collarbone; suddenly her underwear was being pulled aside and his pants jerked down enough to allow him to spring free and then he was inside of her, both of them groaning at the sweet friction. Karen’s nails left red lines down his shoulders where she was holding on and Frank’s punishing thrusts would no doubt leave bruises but neither were interested in slowing down or being gentle. Several minutes later, once she let out a soft shout and he let out a feral growl with their release, they stayed propped against the wall just breathing each other in.

After, as they both stepped into the small shower to clean off Karen marveled at how quickly they went from afraid to touch one another to fucking against a wall after some hot looks. She isn’t unhappy with development, mind you, but it was a pretty large shift in their dynamic. She supposed that is what years of repressed sexual tension and emotions will get you. Karen was pulled out of her musings by a cascade of cold water pouring over her from the shower head.

“Jesus Christ !” She sputtered and nearly knocked them both out of the shower in her haste to escape the frigid water. Frank steadied them both with a curse of his own, bracing her against his chest with one arm while the other swung wide to catch the wall.

He looked concerned and confused for a moment before he felt the cold water splashing against his legs. Karen gave him a dark look when he started chuckling.

“Sorry,I probably should have warned you that sometimes the plumbing is a little unreliable.” He didn’t sound apologetic at all as he carefully righted her and reached through the spray to turn the water off. Thankfully they had both been finished, Karen was just appreciating the warm water and Frank was just appreciating the view before it turned cold.

It didn’t take long before both of them were toweled off and dressed for the day, Karen settled at the small makeshift table with a renewed cup of coffee while Frank worked on putting something together for breakfast. He was efficient in the kitchen, just like everything else with Frank, there were no wasted movements as he threw together toast and omelets. She found herself staring again so as a distraction, Karen retrieved her phone to check for any messages. There were a few from Foggy just letting her know any tidbits he had picked up in his own research and one from Matt. It was simple and short, ‘ I’ll be there, let me know if you need anything’ .

With a small smile, she read the text a couple more times before returning to Foggy’s information so she could cross check everything after breakfast. Soon, Frank was placing plates in front of her, not so subtly scooting her phone and notes away in the process. Shaking her head, Karen picked up her fork and set to work on her breakfast. It was delicious, as it usually was when Frank cooked.

“So what is the game plan today, I mean before the game plan ?” She asked in between mouthfuls of eggs.

Frank regarded her carefully in between his own bites of food, his face pensive. He seemed to come to some sort of conclusion in his head because he set his fork carefully down and scooted the plate away. “Final checks on the gear and loading up the van are pretty much all that is left. And uh...convincin' you to sit this out and let me handle it?”

Karen sent him a withering look. Is he being serious right now?

“Look Karen, I can relay whatever information you need to the lady. You’ve already done so much, I can take care of the rest and you can be safe. ”

Her look never wavered, her voice hard. “Absolutely not, I’m seeing this through Frank. End of story. It is most definitely not up for discussion.” Her own fork clattered to her plate as she sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Also, I don’t think you have the diplomatic aplomb I do. Negotiations aren’t really your style.”

Despite her small attempt at a joke, Karen was incredibly annoyed. Why did the men in her life insist on having the same conversations over and over when she had already made up her mind? Judging by Frank’s face, this was going about as well as he expected.

He held up his hands in surrender, “Alright, alright. I figured I would give it one more shot. In that case, we will go through some safety stuff after breakfast. You just being able to shoot isn’t enough.” He sounded resigned.

“Fair enough.” Karen grabbed her silverware again and resumed eating. The remainder of their breakfast was quiet and it wasn’t long before she was waving Frank away, opting to take care of clearing the small table and washing the dishes since he cooked.

The day ended up being a strange mix of flying by and dragging on. Frank walked Karen through basic hand signals in the event they weren’t able to verbally communicate, drilling her until she could answer each signal without hesitation. Next, he showed her how she would be following him through the house, tucked closely behind him while he cleared the way.

“I don’t like the thought of using you like a human shield. I thought that is what the bulletproof vest was for?” She asked after they walked through it a few times, practicing movements, ensuring she would stay covered while he still had full range of movement. She really didn’t like the idea of him taking a bullet for her. Again.

It was Frank’s turn to give a hard stare, “Either you use me as a human shield or you stay here, that is not up for discussion.”

God she hated when he threw her own words back at her. Her face must have been obstinate because in a second he was standing directly in front of her.

“I said we’d do it your way and talk to this lady but we are going to get you in there my way. Besides, military tactics and infiltration aren’t really your style. ” His voice was serious and low but she saw his lips turn up.

Goddamnit he’s so annoying.

“Fine, but if you get shot I’m gonna be really fucking mad at you so keep that in mind. Seriously, I’ll have Matt carry you back and I’ll let him preach the whole way.” She was attempting to hide her nerves and failing. The corners of Frank’s eyes crinkled in the way they did when he was trying not to be amused.

Resting his hands on either side of her face, Frank tipped her head to give her a chaste kiss before muttering, “Deal. Go rest for a bit, we can run through it again later, I’m going to check the gear.”

The rest of the day went by in a daze for Karen, alternating between practicing with Frank, napping fitfully and thinking about how she wanted to handle speaking with Vanessa. The exhausted, scared, angry part of her wanted to threaten the woman with violence, to make her understand that Karen Page was not someone to just lie down and take it. However, the logical side of her knew that tactic would only cause more issues than it would solve.

They had a light dinner that Karen had to make herself eat, the closer they got to go-time, the less her appetite got and before she knew it, Frank was helping her strap into her vest and holster. They both knew she was capable of doing it herself but it made him feel better. Karen watched his hands, steady and sure as they checked straps and buckles and when he spoke his voice was strong with no hint of a waver. Overall he looked steady as a rock.

Karen, on the other hand, felt like her heart might explode in her chest. Her hands were jittery, she felt like she might throw up if her stomach wasn’t tied up in knots. She watched him strap into his own gear and took a moment to appreciate Frank in his element. She was not just seeing the Punisher, she was seeing the soldier. Anytime Karen could witness other sides of Frank she tried to soak it in as much as possible.

He caught her staring and raised an eyebrow. Clearing her throat to keep her voice from being shaky, something that was only moderately successful she asked, “How are you so calm? I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.”

Frank gave an understanding nod, “Right before a mission is always the hardest, it’s hard to figure out what to do with all the nerves. It’s not that I’m calm, I’m just better at pretending I’m not anxious.” He positioned his earpiece and Karen followed suit. Before she could turn away, Frank ran a reassuring hand up her arm, “It’s going to be fine, Karen. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His voice was filled with such conviction, she couldn’t doubt him if she wanted to and it did much more to soothe her nerves than she expected.

Just as she was about to remind him he needed to make sure nothing happened to himself either, her earpiece crackled to life, startling a squeak out of her.

“ Hey Kids! Ready to get this show on the road?”

Frank let out a curse and stepped over quickly to turn Karen’s earpiece down before adjusting the volume on his.

���Indoor voice, David, Jesus Christ. ” Frank clipped before he opened the passenger door for Karen. Once she was settled he jumped in as well and started the van.

“Sorry about that.” He replied in a much more reasonable volume, only sounding a tiny bit remorseful. “ Everyone appears to be in their expected places so far, it looks like there was a staffing change for one of the security guards but nothing that should affect the plan.”

“Thanks David, we are leaving base now, I will be in contact once we have parked and are moving towards the target. Let us know if anything changes.” With that, Frank began to pull out of the building and start on the route that would take them upstate. The drive would take about two hours, give or take with traffic.

“ Roger that. ” The line crackled and went dead.

Karen, for her part, was doing her best not to let her nerves take over. She kept reminding herself that she had been in sketchier situations with much less competent people, so this shouldn’t be so bad. Those situations weren’t usually planned though, so she had never really had the time to fret before. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Frank glancing at her in between merging through traffic and following the route. He didn’t say anything but he did turn on the radio to a station she remembered mentioning to him being one of her favorites. It warmed her and helped soothe the nerves, if even a little bit.

It was nearly ten when they pulled into a small side street that was a five minute walk through a small wooded area to their destination. Closing her eyes, Karen drew in a long breath before letting it out slowly. When she opened her eyes again, her determination must have shown on her face because Frank gave her a nod, the pride clear on his face.

“You remember everything we went over today?” He asked, his tone clipped, all business.

“Yes. You remember what I said would happen if you get shot?” Her tone was just as clipped.

Frank’s eyes crinkled at the corners in that way that she was beginning to love.

“Yeah I remember.” His face softened and he stared at her for a moment before he spoke again, “Look, Karen…”

In an instant Frank was facing the windshield again, his .45 fixed on a point in front of the van. Karen’s heart was in her throat but when she looked out, a relieved breath escaped her in a rush.

“Jesus, Matt. You’ve gotta ease up on the ninja stuff.” She gasped and watched him hold up placating hands, the red suit imposing as he finished materializing out of the shadows. She wasn’t sure but she thought she saw a small smirk on his lips. Frank still had his gun trained on the other man and looked like he was having  a serious debate with himself before he slowly lowered the weapon back to its holster.

“I guess that means it’s go time.” Frank said tersely. Karen gave a stiff nod and turned to open her door but she was jerked back quickly and into a lingering kiss, all of Frank’s worry and devotion poured into the embrace. Karen hummed, feeling bolstered by the affection but then it began to turn raunchy and she pulled back to see a smirk on his lips. She glanced out to see Matt trying desperately to hide his scowl. Shaking her head, Karen turned back to Frank and shoved him towards his own door.

“You are such a child.” Her voice was scathing but she was grinning at him over her shoulder.

The trio rounded the van so Frank and Karen could throw on the last of their weapons. In the off chance they had gotten pulled over, they didn’t want to be strapped down with several firearms and knives. It probably wouldn’t have gone over well paired with the fact they were both in bullet proof vests.

Karen checked her .380 and holstered it before securing something Frank had presented to her before they left in her dominant hand pocket in easy reach. It was a wicked looking contraption she held in her palm that had claw-like spikes protruding between her fingers when she made a fist. She began to go over he mental checklist, playing the hand signals Frank had shown her in her mind’s eye, thinking about their strategy and actively trying not to think about the many ways this could go bad.

“....Karen will be on my six so if you can bring up our tail to ensure no one is sneaking up…”

“I don’t really like the idea of you clearing the way Frank. That tends to leave a lot of bodies.”

“ Christ , Red. That is the safest way for her. I told you I would be on my best behavior, no fatal shots.” Frank was trying to control his volume and only moderately succeeding.

“How about, Karen stays with me and you bring up the rear, if anyone manages to get near us from there you can step in.” Matt’s tone was just this side of snarky and Karen was tired of listening to them.

“ How about we stop talking about me like I’m not even here before I shoot you both in the foot and handle it myself.” Karen meant to go on but there was muffled giggling in her ear.

“ She told you!”

“Can it Micro.” Frank ground out but he did have the good sense to look a little sheepish, though not apologetic. They had agreed not to use David’s real name while on the mission as additional safeguard for him and his family.

She fixed both of the men with a glare and made sure it was heated enough that Matt could feel it if nothing else. He seemed to because he squirmed slightly under her gaze. When she finally spoke again it was with authority and left no room for discussion. “Matt you go in ahead of us, you can hear more, let us know how many people there are or if there are more people than we expected. You can also take them down and restrain them more easily since I won’t be holding on to your belt. Frank, I’ll stay close to you just like we planned and I will make sure no one grabs me from behind. I will be aware of my surroundings. Now, if everyone is done bickering, let’s get moving.”

There was more giggling in her ear before the men standing before her both gave a slight nod, neither looked happy but they had the good sense not to argue. Before they started moving again though, Frank turned back to Matt, “Last thing, once we are on the second floor and Karen is in with the target, I will be stationed outside the door. I need you to ensure no one else gets to the second floor.”

“Got it.” Was Matt’s simple response before he stepped up to Karen and gave her arm a light squeeze and pressed a small kiss to her temple. Then he was stepping around her and dissolving into the trees once more.

Frank watched him go before pulling Karen gently to his chest and pressing an equally light kiss on her other temple. The sweet gesture from both of them had tears gathering at the corners of her eyes but she willed them away when Frank met her eyes with seriousness, his hand resting at the juncture of her neck and shoulder as he gave her a light shake.

“No heroics in there Ms. Page, ya got me?” His voice was pitched low and his words were edged with anxiety but he was fighting through it, respecting her wishes to see this through to the end.

“I got it Mr. Castle. Same for you, let’s both get out of this without any bullet holes, okay?” Karen was proud of herself for keeping the wobble out of her voice. Frank just gave her shoulder another squeeze and another, more lingering, kiss to her forehead before he stepped around her and she fell in behind him, moving toward the house.

“ You two are just precious. ”

“Shut up.” Said in unison, though Karen’s was filled with amusement while Frank’s was filled with annoyance.

The short walk felt like an eternity but in reality, just a few short minutes later they were behind shrubs to watch Matt move stealthily past the guard that was now unconscious and bound by the back door. With a final lingering look and a quick nod, Frank stood to a crouch and waited until he felt Karen’s hand at his back before he started toward the house.

Karen’s heartbeat was so loud in her ears she was sure anyone in a ten mile radius could hear it. Vaguely she heard a commotion directly ahead of them as Frank turned to a room to their right, confirming the threats there had already been neutralized. Micro confirmed through their comms that Matt was just up ahead and had nearly cleared the way to the staircase they were needing to access.

Heat was radiating off of Frank in waves, Karen could see his muscles were so tight it looked like they could snap at any second. Every corner or potential hidden threat he would pivot and turn, clearing each point. It was interesting to see Frank, the soldier, in the forefront. She had seen him as the grieving husband and father, the vigilante, then the Punisher and she had seen him as just Frank. If she hadn’t been so focused on following his every move just like they practiced and eyeing every dark place with suspicion she would have pondered on that more.

A man suddenly lunged at Frank and Karen found herself pinned to the wall at Frank’s back while the assailant attempted to wrestle the Carbine out of his hand. If she had thought her heart was beating quickly before, it now had blood thundering through her veins with enough force to make her lightheaded. An elbow caught her in the ribs and she only just barely avoided catching Frank’s head with her face before her instincts took over and had her in motion. Able to reach in to her pocket, Karen pulled out the spiked weapon and held it in her fist, striking out as hard as she could at the man's side. She heard the man grunt and material tearing but before she could try again she caught an elbow to her hand, knocking the weapon from her fingers. Karen thought furiously, looking for any other opportunity when she realized her legs were mostly free. Okay, Plan B. With concentrated effort, she managed to separate herself, her leg free enough to kick the man hard in the hip, forcing him to take a step back. It gave Karen enough room to sidestep the fray and  pull her gun from the holster and hold it at the ready if someone else appeared.

When Frank felt her break free he reared back and headbutted the man with a grunt. It only took a few seconds after that for the man to be stunned and on the ground, Frank’s gun pointed at his head with singular focus and breathing heavily. Karen watched him carefully and was about to say his name when his eyes snapped over to her and she saw the battle raging in him. She’s not sure but she thought she heard a curse before Frank gave a terse command of “Watch my six” then used the stock of his weapon to knock the man unconscious before he bound him quickly.

Karen was scanning around them, gun at the ready, jumping only slightly when she heard a thump through the floor above them, watching for any other attackers. Her eyes moved in the pattern Frank had shown her and didn’t stop until he was at her side with an approving nod, tucking her back behind him and continuing their route.

“If you want me to stick to my ‘not killing shitbags’ promise you better do your fuckin’ job Red.” Frank’s voice was nothing more than a harsh whisper but they both knew Matt heard him. Karen squeezed his bicep appreciatively before tucking back into her position. She knew how difficult that was for him and needed him to know she saw the effort he was making.

Their earpieces crackled to life with David’s voice as serious as she had ever heard him, “ Daredevil has it clear all the way to Vanessa’s room, from my surveillance she entered the room 30 minutes ago and hasn’t left. ”

As if on cue, the staircase materialized on their right and Matt was descending, breathing heavily.

“Everyone is tied up, we don’t have long before they will start coming to, though.” He spoke quietly. Frank just gave him a curt nod and Karen squeezed his hand quickly as they went past. It was a huge relief to see that he hadn’t sustained any major injuries, at least that she could see anyway.

They reached the top of the stairs and just as Matt had said, five men were bound together and bleeding at varying degrees of severity. When she was able to tear her eyes away from them, Karen noticed the door to Vanessa’s room loomed ahead and a cold calm came over her. Weeks of turmoil and anxiety were coming to a head and she felt righteous anger giving her the strength to push forward.

Once Frank was certain the floor was secure, he turned to Karen right outside the door and asked quietly, “You’re sure you don’t want me to go in first? I can verify there are no other guards.”

Laying a gentle hand on his wrist where it clutched his gun, she gave him a reassuring smile, “Micro confirmed that all of the hostiles are neutralized for now so I can handle it. I feel like if the Punisher goes in first she may not quite believe that I am not here to hurt her.” She gave a small laugh but Frank remained stoic, every line in his body rigid and struggling to remain in place. Placing her palm to his cheek, Karen made Frank look at her and it made her breathing stutter unexpectedly. Having the undivided, full focus of the Punisher at the height of adrenaline on you was an exhilarating experience. But Frank was there too and she saw the fear underneath the heat of his battle hardened gaze.

“I’m going to be fine Frank. I have my .380, I’ll clear the room and let you know immediately if there is anyone besides Vanessa in there. Okay?” She knew it didn’t ease his anxiety at all but he gave a short nod, pulled the Carbine to his shoulder and began to sweep their surroundings, trusting her.

With a deep breath, Karen pulled her pistol out at the ready and took a steadying breath before she slid through the large door to the master suite. She swept the room with her firearm, only lowering it when she had confirmed there were no other guards stationed there. Karen took a few tentative steps further into the room, tucking her .380 back into it’s holster. She didn’t see Vanessa anywhere in the opulent room and had momentary panic that maybe the woman wasn’t there after all, despite what David had said. Maybe she had an escape route and made a break for it if she heard the commotion. Her thoughts took off in a gallop of dread, what if they had done all this for nothing? What if this only made things worse? However, a second later, Karen’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt as the beautiful brunette stepped from the ensuite bathroom in a silky looking robe with a brush in her hand. A moment of shock registered across her face before it was replaced with a cool mask.

“Well, I’d like to say I’m surprised to see you here Ms.Page but it isn’t too much of a shock really.” Vanessa said, voice low and lightly accented. She stood with her shoulders back and an air of nonchalance but Karen could see the unease in her stance as well. Good, you can be uncomfortable for a while after the shitty few weeks I’ve had.

“I didn’t have much of a choice did I? I have a job to do and I can’t really do it on the run, looking over my shoulder the whole time. Not easy to hold down a 9 to 5 when there’s a contract on your life, who’d have thought?” Bitterness was seeping into her tone so Karen forced herself to take a slow measured breath.

“That is an unfortunate thing but I am unsure of what it has to do with me.”

Karen rolled her eyes before leveling a hard stare on the other woman. “Can we skip the theatrics? I’m honestly exhausted and would like to settle this so I can go home.”

Vanessa raised a manicured eyebrow at her. Sighing, Karen stepped forward a bit and spoke matter of factly, “I’ve seen all of your files, one of which was the contract on my life. I know about your art shows that double as little club parties for the local mob families and that is just a few of the things I’ve found.”

Vanessa tossed the brush she was holding to the chaise to her side and crossed her arms over her chest loosely, fixing Karen with her own unflinching gaze, “So you came to threaten me?”

“I came here to get my life back. To make sure the threat to my friends’ lives is neutralized. I have no intention of hurting you but I will send you to prison, just like we did your husband. It may be a bit more difficult to have all those phone calls if you are both behind bars.” It was spoken matter of fact, no malice. It took everything in Karen not to spit at her like a viper.

The brunette scoffed, “And just how did you get in here Ms. Page? Is breaking and entering considered an acceptable method to speak with someone now? I’m sure the information you alluded to was found legally as well? Knowing your proclivity for violence and murder I’m sure you left more than a few dead bodies in your wake to get this far, so please, how do you intend on sending me to prison without signing your own sentence in the process?”

Karen was livid. She dared to call Karen a murderer? Did she have any idea what her husband had done? The people he had killed in his pursuit for power? Judging by the cool, calculating look in the other woman’s eyes, she did. Karen let the rage settle over her in a cold shroud, a sneer tipping her lips up at one corner, “There won’t be any record of my ever being here. The cameras you have set up, including the one hidden in the moulding over there above your dresser, won’t have any record. You’re right, some of the information I found was found in a questionable manner but enough of it was sourced legitimately to have you locked up and more serious inquiries will follow. What wasn’t sourced legally will be enough to raise suspicion and have you under surveillance at the very least. There are no bodies left behind, Mrs. Fisk, because I am nothing like your husband. I don’t kill indiscriminately or when it suits my needs but I can list at least a dozen innocent people who have died at Fisk’s order if not by his own hand.”

“You took someone very dear to him, shot him in cold blood.” She spat the words out at Karen, anger finally showing through her calm facade.

The sneer vanished from her face but Karen kept her head high, she would not show guilt on the account of James Wesley, “I did shoot him. Interesting that Fisk would tell you that but leave out the fact that Wesley had drugged and kidnapped me. That he had threatened to kill all of the people I cared about before ultimately killing me. I want to be very clear, I did not enjoy killing James Wesley and I wish it could have been avoided, but I would do it all again if it meant my friends were safe. Even so, I still lost people that were very dear to me because of Wilson Fisk.”

From the unsure look on Vanessa’s face, it appeared that part of the story had been omitted. She didn’t say anything but  her arms wrapped a little tighter around her midsection and her face showed the barest hint of what could have been sympathy before her expression schooled again into defiance.

When nothing was said, Karen continued, “You can think of me what you will, either way I have no intention of hurting you. I am simply here to have the contract on my life eliminated and your assurance that my friends will be safe, from you and your husband. If you concede to that, I will not release the information I have to the police and you can continue on with your life.”

“Continue on with my life without my husband you mean? As he is still locked away, his efforts to better this city, ruined because of you and those lawyers.” She was still speaking softly but the bitterness was present.

Karen shook her head slowly, “Wilson Fisk put himself there. He is a criminal and a murderer.” She was trying to speak softly as well but a hardness was filling her words, “He had enough money and influence to better the city in legal, legitimate ways. Instead, he used fear, blackmail and murder to bring people to heel. I won’t ask for forgiveness because he deserves to be in prison, though considering the freedoms he is still enjoying, I would hardly consider that prison.”

She regarded Vanessa for a moment, eye scanning the woman then wandering around the room briefly, before uttering a question that had been eating at her, “You are a successful art dealer from a good family and you have a clean record. Why would you want to be with someone like Wilson Fisk?”

Vanessa seemed surprised by the question and took a moment to answer. She was ready to speak when the door behind Karen came open just enough to let Frank enter. The air of confidence left Vanessa when she took in the white skull emblazoned on Frank’s chest, her whole body tensing as she took several steps back into the room. She was a sensible woman after all, anyone with a healthy respect for their own life would be frightened when the Punisher entered the room. Those with a guilty conscience anyway.

Karen looked over to him and watched as his eyes scanned the room for threats before settling for only a second on the other woman who had put greater distance between them, finally turning to Karen herself. He was standing close, his vest brushing her arm and his gun held between them carefully. His voice was low so it would not carry over to the other occupant of the room when he muttered, “The perimeter is still clear but we need to get moving soon.”

She didn’t bother to point out that was something that could have been conveyed over the comm devices.

They held eyes for a moment, a million other things passing between them before she gave him a nod and placed her focus back on Vanessa. Frank took a half step back, standing at Karen’s shoulder but far enough back to raise his weapon if need be. Said weapon was pointed at the floor but there was no question in his stance of if he would be willing to use it to protect the woman in front of him.

Vanessa was now watching with interest, her previous unease bleeding into focus as her sharp eyes went between Karen and Frank before something seemed to click into place. “You keep interesting allies for someone who is against murder, Miss Page.” She held up her hand when Karen opened her mouth to retort, “I will rescind the contract on your life and I will see to it that your friends will not be in danger from mine or Wilson’s men. You have made a compelling case and I am not blind to your talent for finding information. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to finish up my evening and go to bed.”

Before Karen could say anything, Frank demanded, his voice low and gruff, leaving no room for argument, “Cancel the contract now.” Karen gave him an annoyed look for cutting her off but said nothing.

Reaching slowly into the pocket of her robe, Vanessa pulled out her phone, tapping away at the screen for a moment before holding it up to show them and placing it back in her pocket.

Frank’s head tilted slightly just as she heard David give a quiet ‘confirmed’ in her own earpiece. Frank gave her a small nod, the hacker verified that the contract had been cancelled, so they could go home. Sighing imperceptibly in relief, Karen made a conscious effort to keep her shoulder straight and not let them sag with the tension that left them. They weren’t out of the woods yet so it was not time to relax.

“Thank you Mrs. Fisk. I hope we don’t have to see each other again.” Turning, she made her way to the door while Frank divided his attention to the hallway to check for threats and also  kept a careful eye on the woman across the room. Karen was about to step out and follow Frank when Vanessa spoke up from behind her.

“We don’t get to choose who we love, Ms. Page. It rarely ever is someone that we anticipate.”

For a moment the women locked eyes, a camaraderie of sorts between them. The moment was broken by Karen’s huffed, quiet laugh.

“That’s the fucking truth.” And then the door was closing as she followed Frank into the hallway.

----

Frank felt Karen fall in behind him and only allowed himself a quick breath of relief, they were in the home stretch but not out yet. He could hear mumbled curses and shuffling as some of the men were starting to come around and wanted to get some distance between them and the house. It went against everything in him to still have hostile targets alive, especially with Karen in tow but he knew how much it meant to her so he was doing his best, hyper focused on their surroundings to stop any threat before it could reach her.  

He couldn’t wait to get back to the safe house. He was always tense when going into a mission but taking Karen into the middle of it had him so uneasy he felt like every muscle in his body was strung tight enough to snap at a moment’s notice. It did help that Karen had followed instruction perfectly. She was always in a defensible position, stayed close to him without impeding his movement and had her eyes constantly in motion. She would have made an incredible soldier.

They met Matt at the bottom of the stairs and followed not far behind as he cleared the way of any additional guards. They were making good time through the house, Frank knew around the next corner they would have a short hallway and then exit out a side entrance that would have them a little closer to the vehicle.

Matt had rounded the corner just ahead and they weren’t far behind. There was the sound of a struggle where Matt had just disappeared so Frank slowed as they approached but as they stopped there David’s voice cut through the careful silence.

“ Behind you! One of them is loo-...”

In an instant Frank was turning but not before a shot rang out. Pure instinct had him dropping to a knee and removing the threat with one efficient bullet to the head. He didn’t have time to think about that though because when he lowered his eyes from the target, he saw Karen bleeding on the ground at his feet, her hand gripping her neck where blood flowed through her fingers, and Frank’s whole world tilted and came apart.

[fromcrossroadstoking]

George Luz Visits the Emergency Room (A Lot)

I`m having the worst writer`s block while trying to write Welcome to the 5061st, so I wrote a little piece of Luzroe fluff to try and break it.

Tags: @gottapenny @itisjustmethistime @indigosandviolets 

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

George Luz made his way through the maze of corridors towards the Emergency Room, two cups of coffee and a bag of muffins clutched firmly in his hands. He found Lipton  in his usual spot in the break room, going through some paperwork as he waited.

"Paging Dr. Lipton! Your incredibly healthy breakfast of one low-fat blueberry muffin and small black coffee has arrived!" Luz made the announcement with more pep than should be allowed on a Monday morning as he pushed through the door into the break room.

Lipton looked up from his papers with a smile, "You're a lifesaver Luz."

Luz opened his mouth to agree with the statement when he caught sight of the two men in the hallway through the break room window. Dr. Winters, head of the ER, appeared to be talking to a doctor Luz hadn't seen before.

"Hey Luz, you might want to... " Lipton made a motion indicating that Luz should wipe his mouth. Luz stopped himself just as moved his arm up to do just that.

"I`m not drooling!"

"Whatever you say." 

Luz rolled his eyes and handed over Lipton`s breakfast, only momentarily taking his eyes off of the dark haired doctor in the hallway before they darted right back.

"In case you were wondering, that would be Dr. Eugene Roe, our new resident. Supposed to be one helluva doc."

"Huh. You don`t say... " Luz watched intently as Roe smiled at something Winters said. Luz didn't know if Roe was one helluva doc but he sure had one helluva smile.

Lipton sighed knowing Luz was going to stand there being a drool-fest unless he intervened.

"I could introduce you, if you want."

"Well, I mean, if you think that would be a good idea. I, uh, do visit a lot down here so he should probably know who I am. Don`t want him thinking they let just anyone wander around here. I mean - "

Lipton held up his hand to cut Luz off. He could tell when Luz was about to start rambling and Lipton had too much paperwork to do to listen to that right now.

"Come on. I don`t think they'll mind us interrupting." Lipton put down his coffee and led Luz out in to the hallway.

"Hey Dick," Luz nodded at the redhead in greeting and then turned to the other man, "Dr. Roe, I want you to meet a good friend of mine, George Luz. He`s a nurse up on the pediatric floor."

Luz wiped his hands on his pants quickly before holding one out.

When the hell had his hands started sweating?

"I`m George! Nice to meet you!" His voice came out funny sounding and he mentally kicked himself.

Roe took the hand Luz had extended and shook it.

"Nice to meet you too George. I`m Eugene Roe, but you can just call me Gene."

Luz`s eyes widened a bit.

Oh fuck. The accent.

~

Later that night as Luz laid in his bed he couldn't help but bemoan how unfair it all was.

How dare someone that hot, with an even hotter accent, work a mere two floors away from him? How was he supposed to get any work done knowing Dr. HandsomeFace McHotPants was so close?

Luz huffed and rolled onto his side.

Unfair.

~

It was tradition that every Monday morning, Luz and Lipton would meet in the ER`s break room for a quick breakfast before their shifts started. It was a nice tradition that gave them both something to look forward to on Monday mornings.

Today, however, was not Monday. And yet, here Luz was, breakfast for the two of them in hand.

"Morning Lip! Long time no see!" Luz grinned widely as he set the coffees and bagels down on the table.

"Luz?"

"Yeah?"

"It`s not Monday buddy."

"It isn`t?!" Luz`s eyes widened in dramatic fashion, "Oh shoot! Silly me! Well, either way, shouldn't waste this breakfast!" Luz gestured for Lipton to take a seat.

Lipton shook his head, amused, as he sat down. "Luz, he`s already been in and made his coffee. I don`t think he`ll be back again for awhile."

"Who?"

"Luz. You know who. We both do." 

"Hmph," Luz chewed his bite of bagel thoughtfully for a moment, "I can eat slow."

"Luz!" Lipton balled up a napkin and tossed it at the younger man, "You have a job to get to!"

Luz laughed as the napkin bonked him in the face, "Alright! Fine! Maybe I`ll just have to come visit on my lunch break."

Lipton could tell from the grin on Luz`s face that he really was going to do just that. Hell, he had a distinct feeling he was about to see a lot more of Luz for the foreseeable future.

~

Lipton`s feeling had not been wrong. Luz seemed to find every excuse in the book to wander down to the ER - breakfast, lunch, "just getting exercise", dropping off coffees, looking for so-and-so.

And yet, Luz never managed to make it beyond small talk with Roe. Luz was a natural talker and could make friends with anyone (a habit that occasionally worried Lipton) so the whole thing puzzled him. If Lipton didn't know better he might've sworn that Luz`s nerves were actually getting the better of him...  

~

Luz sat in the Emergency Room not as a visitor, but as a patient. As he sat there waiting, he hoped desperately that one of the docs he liked would be the one to see him. Preferably Lipton, or Winters, or Grant. He was torn as to whether or not he wanted Roe to walk in - on one hand it mean time with Roe, time with Roe touching him, but on the other hand Roe would probably ask about his injury and, well, it was frankly embarrassing.

Luz had been lounging on the couch, watching trashy daytime television, when he heard the toaster strudel he had in the toaster pop up. In his rush to get to his precious toaster strudel, he leaped off the coach, promptly tripped over his own feet, fell, and hit his head on the corner of the coffee table.

Luz wasn't sure he wanted to tell the hottest man he had ever seen in his entire goddamn life that he needed stitches because of toaster strudel, so it was to his great relief that Lipton was the one he walked in to the room.

Lipton looked Luz up and down, "Please tell me this isn't a new way of trying to get Roe`s attention."

"Believe it or not this is a legitimate toaster strudel injury."

"Of course it is."

"Really! You can go to my apartment right now and see the evidence yourself! My poor toaster strudel is probably ice cold now."

Lipton let out an exasperated sigh, "Ok, well since it`s just you - "

"Hey!"

" - I need to run to the bathroom so just wait here a second."

~

Lipton did not have to go to the bathroom. Lipton did have to act on what he considered a brilliant idea.

He found Roe coming out of room 5 and flagged him down.

"Hey Gene! I hate to ask but I`m drowning a bit. Could you take a look at the patient in room 2 for me?"

"Of course," Roe nodded and gave Lipton a small smile.

"Thanks Gene, I owe you one."

As Lipton walked away he knew beyond a doubt that Luz was probably going to kill him later. But it was worth it.

~

"George?"

Luz`s head immediately snapped up towards the door as the familiar voice filled the room.

"Gene! Hey, uh, where`s Lip?"

"He asked me to take over. Said he was pretty swamped. Let`s see what we got here, huh?"

Luz made a mental note to murder Lipton later as Roe walked over and began examining Luz`s head wound. Roe was so damn close. So damn close. Luz was pretty sure his brain was going to short circuit with the proximity.

"It ain`t bad. Just a few stitches should do it. Won`t even really be a scar."

"Ha! What a shame, I heard chicks dig scars." 

FUCK. Why would I say that?

Luz tried to recover, sort of... "And guys. Guys, uh, dig scars too."

Luz had never wanted to sink in to the earth so badly before. Until Roe chuckled.

He fucking chuckled.

"We do. Dig scars, that is." Roe gave him what could only be described as a mischievous smile before refocusing on patching up the cut on Luz`s forehead.

~

Over the next few days, there definitely seemed to be a shift between the two of them.

Or maybe it was Luz`s imagination.

No, no, there was a definite shift to a more flirty style of interaction.

Hopefully.

No, definitely. There was no way this was in his head.

Right?

~

Luz showed up to the ER`s break room with three coffees clutched in his hand - one for him, one for Lip, and one for Roe if managed to "run in to him" (he always managed to run in to Roe, even if meant doing a few circles around the ER). So he was absolutely delighted to see that Roe just so happened to be in the break room. He was not, however, delighted to see that Roe was busy playing with a little kid. A dark haired little kid. A pale, dark haired little kid.

Luz felt like he had punched in the gut. Maybe the flirting had been in his head after all. Roe had a kid and probably a girlfriend (or wife, maybe he was the kind of guy who didn't like wearing rings) to go along with the kid.

He did his best to shake off the sudden tidal wave of disappointment as he threw the best smile he could muster on his face.

"Good morning! Coffee?"

Roe looked up from the matchbox car race he was having, "Thank you George. You`re the best." Roe grabbed the coffee with a smile, beaming with appreciation.

"Don`t I know it," George swallowed hard and tried to think of something to say, "Didn't know you had a kid. He`s cute. What`s his name?"

Roe let out a laugh.

Jesus Christ, what an amazing laugh. Luz doubted he would ever get sick of that sound.

"He ain`t mine. I`m just watchin' him for my buddy Ralph. He`s a paramedic. Should be here soon."

The relief hit Luz instantaneously. 

"Speak of the devil..."

"Papa!" The kid in Roe`s lap squealed in delight and wriggled out of Roe`s grasp as a dark haired paramedic came through the break room door.

"Hey kiddo! There`s the cutest little munchkin in the whole world!" Spina picked up his kid and covered him in kisses before turning his attention to the other two men in the room.

"Hey Gene, how was he?"

"An angel as always."

Spina snorted, "Maybe you should spend some more time with him," Spina looked at the squirmy kid in his arms, "What do you think kiddo? You want to spend more time with Uncle Gene."

"Yes, pwease!" The kid nodded enthusiastically.

Roe grinned and then glanced over at Luz, gesturing towards Spina, "George, this is my best friend, Ralph Spina."

Luz held up a hand in greeting.

"Ralph, this is George Luz."

Spina broke into a wide grin at that, "So this is George Luz! Nice to finally meet you George! Heard a lot about you!"

"Oh, yeah?" Luz couldn't help the massive grin on his face as he looked over at Roe who was glaring daggers at Spina. Luz could feel the butterflies in his stomach kick up.

~

Luz immediately liked Spina - he seemed like a genuinely warm, friendly person. The three of them chatted for a bit before Spina excused himself, leaving just Luz and Roe in the break room.

"So," Luz smirked at Roe, "Just what exactly did you tell your best friend about me?"

Roe tried to nonchalantly take a sip of his coffee as he shrugged, "Not much, really."

"Huh, didn't seem like not much from the way Ralph reacted to meeting me..." There was a pause before Roe spoke.

" I might`ve told him about how you`re always tellin' real corny jokes, an' how you put way too much sugar an' cream in your coffee, an' how I ain`t never seen someone eat three chocolate chip muffins for breakfast like you do, an' how you spend all your time on this floor instead of the one you actually work on." 

Another pause. Roe looked Luz straight in the eyes.

"Might`ve also told him my favorite part of the day is when you`re visitin' an' I`m always countin' the minutes until you come visit again."

Luz could feel his heart flutter and for the first time in his life he was at a complete loss for words. So he did the next best thing.

He closed the space between them in two quick steps and pulled Roe into a kiss. He could feel Roe`s lips form into a smile as the kiss deepened.

Oh, Luz was definitely going to be visiting a lot more now.

[scrollsofeternity]

im mean again now | arisa | trial 6 | re: hisato, ely

Once again, they’ve been played like fools. Arisa has once again shed tears for a tragedy that never happened. Well, it did (both times, actually), but it wouldn’t end the worst way possible. Her heart is still shattered in her chest, but its sting is just the littlest bit less knowing that Azusa didn’t create this. She had a hand in it, yes, but she didn’t force them to stay. She tried to save the dead. She felt horrible about this all. Arisa knew she had to. 

Hisato didn’t have the luxury of Arisa giving a single shit about him.

Her sobs have quieted, first stilled from sheer shock at the sudden darkness and now through the rage she felt pounding through her veins. She snarls and turns to look directly at Hisato, putting her hands on her hips, spreading her legs into a scissor pose.

“English fuckin’ major, right? Here, lemme put this a way you’ll understand.”

And then, in shockingly proficient English, begins a small tirade.

“Bitch gon’ step to fuckin’ me bitch with them fuckin’ cow-whore fuckin’ boots BITCH DISGUSTIN’!”

She says, bending at the waist slightly and snapping her fingers before she says the last two words. She swaps back to Japanese for the rest of it.

“You’re probs just gonna get your fuckin’ chaps wet over me going at your fuckin’ neck, Buffalo Bill lookin’ headass, but I don’t care. I am SO beyond the point of caringgggggg!!!”

She claps rapidly as her voice’s volume raises over time on the last syllable.

“You ain’t like cursing!? Watch what I can fuckin’ do, pussy shit bitch! You fuckin’ walk in here, head held fuckin’ high like you’re some hot shit, talkin’ hot shit, lettin’ Azusa-chan take fuckin’ abuse meant for you?! You hand me those insults on a silver fuckin’ platter ‘cuz you want me to say it? Wanna feel cool ‘cuz you want me to call you stupid lookin’!? Bitch, I don’t NEED your factory, mass-ass produced fast fashion fuckin’ insults, I can come up with my own shit. Yeah your fuckin’ boots piss me the hell off, I should fuckin’ walk the hell over there and shove one down your fuckin’ throat, show you how inconvenient some goddamn spurs can be! Bitch! They! Will! Tear! At! Your! Skirt’s! Fuckin’! Hem! They teach you this shit in a 101 class--couldn’t be bothered to go to an ethics 101 class and CLEARLY couldn’t be bothered to go to a fashion one. NASTY ASS.”

Between each exclamation mark as she made her comment about his spurs, she clapped her hands together.

“And your FUCKIN’ GAUNTLETS!?!? That’s what those things supposed to be? Just lookin’ like some reject ass kaiju fuckin’ fursuit--why the hell you bring your hoe-ass kink into the goddamn trial room. I don’t WANT to know that shit, thanks very much, but I guess I FUCKIN’ DO NOW. 

Also, whore, do you KNOW where a scarf goes because IT AIN’T FUCKIN’ THERE, SWEETIE PIE!! I WISH I could stop looking at that shitshow you call a skirt and accessory but GODDAMN I can’t! It’s like when you’re watching a car accident happen, and you can’t look away. Bitch you can’t DO asymmetric AND high-low at the same TIME!! You don’t end up lookin’ like anything other than a shitass clown in a piss poor circus! UGH!!! You make YACO look like a goddamn VOGUE MODEL while you’re walkin’ the fuck ‘round here like Victoria’s Secret CLOWN ASS HALLOWEEN EDITION!!!!”

She stops her tirade, chest and shoulders heaving from the fact that she took minimal breaths during her entire speech. It seemed like her cheerleader lungs hadn’t left her yet, and her pathetic display of public vulnerability that could have been avoided (again) had just pissed her off. 

Oh for fuck’s fucking SAKE!

“Sakurayama-chan, would you PLEASE get your fuckin’ woman, jesus CHRIST!!”

She throws her hands in the air and drags them down her face. This place is a nightmare.

[honeyggukk]

ride (m)

✧･ﾟ pairing : taehyung x female reader

✧･ﾟ summary : your fantasies about riding taehyung’s thigh finally come true

✧･ﾟ word count : 1.5k

✧･ﾟ warnings: dominant tae, minor choking kink

Click, you find yourself re-watching another one of his performances, studying his every move and gesture, are you really this needy? 

You never fail to notice how his eyes darken with determination and confidence, something that just oozes sexiness to you. You still find his stage presence one of the hottest things on this earth, even after watching him preform thousands of times, and you know many of his fans agree. 

It’s almost like when he steps foot on that stage, something clicks inside of him. Sometimes, you like to think he’s preforming with you in mind, that’s why he preforms with a smirk on his face. It’s like he can imagine the sweat slowly dripping down your forehead as you try to hide your flushed expression as you watch him preform.

Now, for the hundredth time tonight, you’re watching another fan-cam, monitoring how he grinds and thrusts his hips for the screaming fans, picturing that that he’s actually thrusting for you - or preferably, into you. 

You swear that his stylists are secretly planning to kill you, continuously making him wear wet looking jeans and thigh harnesses, which definitely does not help your wild imagination.

Subconsciously, your legs are squeezing themselves together, desperately attempting to cater for the heat growing between your thighs. You know the cause of your clear arousal, though. You admire the way his pants hug him tightly, emphasizing the great shape and size of them, only making them even more irresistible. You never had a kink for thigh riding - or had even heard of it - until you met Taehyung. 

The simple thought of rocking your hips against him, leaving a wet patch on his favorite jeans could make you orgasm right now. However, Taehyung is clueless about your little fantasy. You choose to hide it from him and you’re unsure why, considering you know he would be happy to try new things with you. But there’s a doubt in the back of your mind, what if he finds it weird and it doesn’t turn him on? 

Boy, were you wrong.

✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ

“Mmmph, Taehyung” you moan, throwing your head back in pleasure while squeezing your eyes shut. Today, you’re the source of your own pleasure yet you can’t help moaning his name as you picture his large hands wrapped around your thighs, pinning them back and squeezing them as he puts you in your place. Your hand works around your clit, circling and teasing it in attempt to relieve some of the pressure that has built up. You can only blame your boyfriend and his stupid thighs for putting you in this mess. 

You slide a finger inside of you, imagining that it’s his that is dipping into your entrance instead. “Right there, f-fuck” you moan, louder than expected. In your head, you picture his thigh, tensing and pulsing to the beat of the music as he dances. The image makes you moan again, “Mmmm, wanna ride”, your words come out more like a slur than a moan. 

“Wanna ride what?” a deep voice asks you. Your heart drops into your stomach as you peep over to the door to find your boyfriend, Taehyung, stood against the door frame. 

“H-how long have you b-been there for?” you stutter, covering your body despite the fact he has seen you naked hundreds of times. 

“Long enough. You put on a good show, babygirl” he smirks, finally stepping foot into your shared bedroom. “However, I asked you a question. Aren’t you gonna answer me, babygirl?” he asks.

“Urm, y-you?” you state, attempting to sound confident within your lie. Unfortunately, your boyfriend sees past your lie. 

“Hmm, I don’t think so. You’ve rode me lots of times, and I’ve never seen you this worked up sweetheart ” he questions you, taking a seat on the end of your bed, placing his hand on your leg softly. “So, are you going to be good and tell me what exactly has you in this mess?”. 

You gulp, intimidated by his dominant presence. With the click of his fingers he can make you become a submissive, nervous, puppy around him. “I-i” you attempt to speak, but hear your voice failing you, once again. You sigh, pushing yourself up on your elbows, before shyly pointing your index finger towards his tensed up thigh. 

He trails his eyes from your finger to his thigh, smirking and nodding once he finally figures out what you were trying to say. “My thigh, huh?” he bites his lip, moving his body towards the back of the bed, placing his back against the headboard. “Hop on” he states, patting his thigh, not questioning your want at all. 

You hesitate for a millisecond, before making your way to his thigh, straddling it just like you have imagined so many times. You moan softly as your heat hits the rough texture of his jeans. You can feel his dark eyes staring up at you, waiting to see what your next move will be. “What are you waiting for, baby? Don’t you wanna ruin my jeans?”, he groans, his voice low with lust. 

His hands make their way to your hips, applying just the right amount of force to make you move. You can feel the rough texture of his jeans rubbing past your clit every time you rock your hips, making you sigh and moan out of relief. “Feel good?” he asks, although the answer his obvious. You’re aware he’s teasing you, desperately wanting you to tell him how good it feels.

“Tell me” his voice darkens, his grip on you getting slightly tighter as your hips work faster. “I wanna hear you”.

“Fuck, it feels good! O-okay? Is t-that what you wanna hear?” you ask, your tone of voice changing dramatically from before.

Slap. You feel a sting on your ass, his hand roughly grabbing it after spanking you. “Less of that attitude, love. You don’t get to talk to me like that, you got it?”, he states sternly, making sure you’re put back into your place. He knows you love it though, you fail to hide the smirk on your face as he becomes more and more dominant. It’s an instant turn on for you, and he knows it. 

“S-sorry” you stutter, your face turning a light shade of pink after he scolded you. His hand makes its way back to your hip, while the other one climbs up to your neck, applying a small amount of pressure, making you gasp and moan. 

“You wanna be dominated, huh? You wanna misbehave so I can put you back in your place?” he whispers, bringing your head down towards his lips, still with his hand wrapped around your neck. “My babygirl got exactly what she wanted, didn’t she?”, he whispers once again, kissing your cheek in attempt to soothe you. 

Meanwhile, your hips are still rocking back and forth, now at a pace you’re struggling to keep up with. “Are you gonna cum all over me? Huh? Are you gonna soak my leg?”. You nod furiously, your eyes squeezing shut in attempt to cope with the pleasure. Your hands claw at his t-shirt, looking for stability as he replaces his hand around your neck with kisses, pushing you over the edge. 

“A-ahh, Taehyungie!” you moan, your head tilting backwards as you struggle to catch your breath. 

“That’s it, baby. Such a good girl” he soothes you, his voice now significantly calmer. His hand rubs your back gently, as you collapse on top of him, attempting to regulate your breath. “There you go, I got you” he reassures you. 

Gently, he pushes you to the side, allowing you to fall off his lap and cuddle into him instead. “Better?” he asks, and you nod, smiling as your eyes flutter shut, defeated by your own orgasm. 

“Did it live up to your expectations?” he asks, playing with your hair. You giggle, “Yeah, in fact I think it exceeded them”. 

“I was waiting for the day you finally got the courage to ask me” he smirks, looking up at the ceiling. Quickly, you shoot up, shocked by his words. 

“Wait, you knew all along?!” you ask. 

“Baby, of course I did. You’re not subtle at all!” he laughs, amused by how surprised you are. “I see you when you watch me preform, you hardly ever look at my face”. 

You gently smack his arm, telling him off for teasing you. “Hey!” he exclaims. “It’s not my fault they make me wear thigh harnesses!” he smirks. 

You smile, shaking your head at his words. “Jesus Christ, Taehyung. I can’t believe you knew”. 

“Whoops?” he smiles widely, watching your expression.

You cuddle back into him, your head resting in the crook of his neck as you take in his scent, finally relaxing and dozing into a sleep.

“Oh by the way, you really need to start deleting your YouTube history. I’ve seen those fan-cams”

[ecandjamesvpjournal]

Kris Straub who does a lot of awesome stuff, started doing a story about a fictions city in a fictional county, Mason County where Ichor Falls come from. There, a channel accessed within the Twilight Zone hours exists. The channel L O C A L 58 hosts a lots of unusual events.

This is from a chat room (now defunct), but thankfully saved:

NetNostalgia Forum - Television (local)

Skyshale033 Subject: Candle Cove local kid's show? Does anyone remember this kid's show? It was called Candle Cove and I must have been 6 or 7. I never found reference to it anywhere so I think it was on a local station around 1971 or 1972. I lived in Ironton at the time. I don't remember which station, but I do remember it was on at a weird time, like 4:00 PM.

mike_painter65 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? it seems really familiar to me…..i grew up outside of ashland and was 9 yrs old in 72. candle cove…was it about pirates? i remember a pirate marionete at the mouth of a cave talking to a little girl

Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? YES! Okay I'm not crazy! I remember Pirate Percy. I was always kind of scared of him. He looked like he was built from parts of other dolls, real low-budget. His head was an old porcelain baby doll, looked like an antique that didn't belong on the body. I don't remember what station this was! I don't think it was WTSF though.

Jaren_2005 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? Sorry to ressurect this old thread but I know exactly what show you mean, Skyshale. I think Candle Cove ran for only a couple months in ‘71, not ‘72. I was 12 and I watched it a few times with my brother. It was channel 58, whatever station that was. My mom would let me switch to it after the news. Let me see what I remember. It took place in Candle cove, and it was about a little girl who imagined herself to be friends with pirates. The pirate ship was called the Laughingstock, and Pirate Percy wasn't a very good pirate because he got scared too easily. And there was calliope music constantly playing. Don't remember the girl's name. Janice or Jade or something. Think it was Janice.

Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? Thank you Jaren!!! Memories flooded back when you mentioned the Laughingstock and channel 58. I remember the bow of the ship was a wooden smiling face, with the lower jaw submerged. It looked like it was swallowing the sea and it had that awful Ed Wynn voice and laugh. I especially remember how jarring it was when they switched from the wooden/plastic model, to the foam puppet version of the head that talked.

mike_painter65 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? ha ha i remember now too. ;) do you remember this part skyshale: "you have…to go…INSIDE."

Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? Ugh mike, I got a chill reading that. Yes I remember. That's what the ship always told Percy when there was a spooky place he had to go in, like a cave or a dark room where the treasure was. And the camera would push in on Laughingstock's face with each pause. YOU HAVE… TO GO… INSIDE. With his two eyes askew and that flopping foam jaw and the fishing line that opened and closed it. Ugh. It just looked so cheap and awful. You guys remember the villain? He had a face that was just a handlebar mustache above really tall, narrow teeth.

kevin_hart Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? i honestly, honestly thought the villain was pirate percy. i was about 5 when this show was on. nightmare fuel.

Jaren_2005 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? That wasn't the villain, the puppet with the mustache. That was the villain's sidekick, Horace Horrible. He had a monocle too, but it was on top of the mustache. I used to think that meant he had only one eye. But yeah, the villain was another marionette. The Skin-Taker. I can't believe what they let us watch back then.

kevin_hart Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? jesus h. christ, the skin taker. what kind of a kids show were we watching? i seriously could not look at the screen when the skin taker showed up. he just descended out of nowhere on his strings, just a dirty skeleton wearing that brown top hat and cape. and his glass eyes that were too big for his skull. christ almighty.

Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? Wasn't his top hat and cloak all sewn up crazily? Was that supposed to be children's skin??

mike_painter65 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? yeah i think so. rememer his mouth didn't open and close, his jaw just slid back and foth. i remember the little girl said "why does your mouth move like that" and the skin-taker didn't look at the girl but at the camera and said "TO GRIND YOUR SKIN"

Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? I'm so relieved that other people remember this terrible show! I used to have this awful memory, a bad dream I had where the opening jingle ended, the show faded in from black, and all the characters were there, but the camera was just cutting to each of their faces, and they were just screaming, and the puppets and marionettes were flailing spastically, and just all screaming, screaming. The girl was just moaning and crying like she had been through hours of this. I woke up many times from that nightmare. I used to wet the bed when I had it.

kevin_hart Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? i don't think that was a dream. i remember that. i remember that was an episode.

Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? No no no, not possible. There was no plot or anything, I mean literally just standing in place crying and screaming for the whole show.

kevin_hart Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? maybe i'm manufacturing the memory because you said that, but i swear to god i remember seeing what you described. they just screamed.

Jaren_2005 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? Oh God. Yes. The little girl, Janice, I remember seeing her shake. And the Skin-Taker screaming through his gnashing teeth, his jaw careening so wildly I thought it would come off its wire hinges. I turned it off and it was the last time I watched. I ran to tell my brother and we didn't have the courage to turn it back on.

mike_painter65 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid's show? i visited my mom today at the nursing home. i asked her about when i was littel in the early 70s, when i was 8 or 9 and if she remebered a kid's show, candle cove. she said she was suprised i could remember that and i asked why, and she said "because i used to think it was so strange that you said ‘i'm gona go watch candle cove now mom' and then you would tune the tv to static and juts watch dead air for 30 minutes. you had a big imagination with your little pirate show.”

Sound familiar? Local58.info

[consecrated2christ]

Back there again...

Hello friends!

I sincerely hope you had a restful Christmas and were able to celebrate the New Year with close friends & family.

I happened to get quite sick over the holiday break but perhaps it was much needed with all that went on this year.

I was literally home for about 2 weeks...hadn't gone out but for a few important occassions like my brother's engagement party.

Part of me believes I've been slowly becoming an introvert (gain energy from being alone) after dealing with burnt out and my diagnosis with generalized anxiety. (Since 2016) However I still do get bursts of energy from being with people...maybe the difference is the type. Ie. healthy vs. unhealthy.

Personally, I know we're all broken people but find it's a deal breaker in relationships (romantic and non) to not want to deal with your issues. But I totally understand the initial "putting off" of painful experiences and emotions. I do it too... I just mean being a person who doesn't want to change at all -- the whole "I am who I am" mentality.

Anyway this past Monday, my mom and I wanted to have an outing together. She has a chronic illness and this prevents her from working outside the home and doing normal errands. It's like when your phone battery stops charging completely and you only end up with 30% after a normal charging period. Or in humans terms, sleep. To give some context, my mom started showing symptoms when I was 11. So we've dealt with this as a family for about 15 years now.

Regardless of her illness, I have come to love my special time with mom. I say "come" because my teen years would have said otherwise. Not to say though that I don't love my mom unconditionally...it's more that my raging hormones complicated things. So while my mom had good intentions of wanting to have time alone...it would all depend on my mood.

I will say though that experiencing my mom's illness with her has been a journey to say the least and used to really blame Jesus for it. Anyway another story within itself...

Back to this story. My mom ended up not being well enough to do the errands that we were planning on doing together. This is what I mean by our special dates. Sometimes it may just be as simple as returning an article of clothing and looking for some fabric. My dad ended up going with me after work and was just honestly thankful to get out of the house for my own sanity.

We first drove to Old Navy to return a coat from Christmas for my brother. The sales clerk said she couldn't process the order at the store because it was an online purchase. Back on the road again. Next we headed to a pretty low key mall to look at some fabric that my mom needed for our dining room chairs. As it turns out, the place she had in mind was close by but not where she initially thought. Next we then purchased some Pad Thai for dinner that night at the mall and then headed to our last stop for the day.

So we get there and my mind was overwhelmed with all the fabric inside. I am an artsy person in other ways (makeup, music, etc) but find any kind of crafy store to not be my cup of tea. However I appreciate those blessed with this type of creative mind and skillful hands. My fine motor skills are terrible to say the least. ;)

After we take a couple of pictures of potential colours and specific fabrics for my mom to see. (They didn't offer swatches)

As we head out and continue driving down this street...part of my brain recognizes this area. Now I recalled how I'd been here once or twice with my family for this Polish supermarket and one of my mom's favourtie restaurants. Still...something peaked my interest.

Then it hit me after seeing some specific land markers. I say land markers because I am directionally challenged without my GPS, so had previously defined a place by what it sold.

This is the place where I tried to commit suicide.

I remember like it was yesterday: hopped on the closest bus to my house and just headed south. Then got off at a random stop and went to go pick my poision. Then I drank it with another sugary beverage and walked into these woods. I didn't take any IDs or my cell phone. ((NEVER DO THIS)) All I had what was on my back. I then proceeded to drink the poision and walk into the woods. It wasn't super dark yet but remember how cold it was on my hands.

Kept walking but nothing happened. I drank some more.

Being in one of the darkest places of my mind is where I then headed down the street where this fabric store was on. It was one of those roads that had lots of industrial places and kept going for miles. It was in this moment that I was so angry why this plan hadn't worked. Stubbornly I kept walking. My stomach was growling to the point of no return and felt a bit light headed from not eating for a few hours.

I then came across this coffee shop. I caved and ordered some food.

Looking back, no one on the bus or in the coffee shop knew what had happened. Only God Himself.

Afterwards I saw a familar bus that I knew which headed back into my old neighbourhood. I ended up at a local plaza and called my mom on the pay phone. She then sent my dad to pick me up.

A question that close friends ask me is, did you go back to our childhood neighbourhood because it was a safe place for you? Maybe but it was ultimately God who provided a familar route in the midst of a destructive night.

Now I know what you might be thinking...why are you writing this on the internet? Shouldn't you first talk to a counselor and/or a parent? Yes I've done both and am on medication. (See previous post for more of that story)

Some say it isn't wise to disclose your deepest thoughts on the internet or in the workplace. They might unfairly judge you. Maybe...probably...

But part of me needed to get this off my chest and properly process it outloud. (Where my extrovert habits come in)

I say this with my deepest love and care for you my Tumblr community. Looking back, 10 year old Lizzy had no idea what her thoughts and actions were capable of.

Part of it is genetics. My grandpa who passed away last year deals with depression. So does my mom and brother. Thank the Lord for my mentally sane father!! And of course Heavenly Father.

I was reminded when watching a movie where this kid experiences a messed up childhood that we can't always control the negative things that happen to us. Ultimately it's deeply rooted in our sinful nature and our pride that insits that we have to be in control.

As a Jesus follower, I'm not promised that my life won't be without deep and painful moments. But I am and can hold God to His promises that He is faithful and is putting together those broken pieces of my life. Slowly and in His timing.

So this post is for the doubting Christian and the unbeliever too. We all wrestle with from time to time on if we're truly alone in this world. I can tell you with full assurance that you're never alone. Just like I was when I attempted suicide.

Maybe you have noticed that certain things fall together for your benefit. Like a chaotic day at work or school had moments where it all made a small ounce of sense. That was probably God.

So while there are lots of people who doubt His existence I can reassure you of His work in my life.

Even the demons believe there is a God!

So let me end with that Tumblr. God is not dead.

By Christ's grace, ~Lizzy xoxo

[elizas-writing]

Animated August, Day 10: Ferngully: The Last Rainforest

This has got to be the most 90s cheese of 90s animated movies: cheesy ass music, low key copying the Disney formula, and preachy environmentalist messages which feel like a jackhammer. This is FernGully: The Last Rainforest.

The titular rainforest, FernGully, enjoyed centuries worth of peace under the protection of fairies. One of them, Crysta, is learning the ways of magic and creation to keep the forest thriving. But her life suddenly changes when she finds humans, which many fairies believed to be extinct. She accidentally shrinks one of them, a young adult named Zak, and wants to learn more about his world as he’s enveloped in hers. Little do they know that a dark shadow named Hexxus lurks in the shadows, fueled by humanity’s greed and pollution to destroy FernGully once and for all.

For all good intentions, this film is painfully preachy on its environmental themes, right down to oversimplifying the man vs nature bit where the latter is good and the former is evil, the end. I give them credit for trying to show a character arc of re-establishing ties with nature and spirituality through Zak, but it goes with the by-the-numbers cliches you’d expect (including a forced romance) and never expands on the humans’ side of development and modernization. At least Pocahontas and Avatar tried to bring up colonialism/imperialism as solid motivations for the antagonists; FernGully can’t even be bothered to explain Hexxus’s motive except “yummy, yummy, pollution.” It’s already against humans from the get-go, so why should I care what else it has to say? And it resolves the conflicts easily in the ways I would expect it to, so there’s little to no lasting tension or consequences for destroying the forest.

The songs don’t really serve purpose aside from padding the run time. The characters are their basic archetypes for this story without much depth or complexity. I honestly can’t describe Crysta’s personality even if you had a gun next to my head-- she’s kinda boring to me. And Zak is just another white man who needs a woman to show him the error of his ways a la John Smith or Jake Sully (Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t believe I remember the main character of James Cameron’s Avatar). I barely remember any side characters except for Christian Slater, because his voice is so distinct.

The only characters I actually enjoyed were Batty and Hexxus, played by Robin Williams and Tim Curry, respectively. They’re great actors who know how to take garbage and make it entertaining, regardless if it actually adds anything to the overall film. I’m convinced they just left Robin alone in a room and screamed whatever into a microphone for five hours and just picked the highlights; his impressions are never not funny. Tim Curry has a song reminiscent of “Sweet Transvestite” from Rocky Horror, and you can tell he’s having a lot of fun. And while the villain isn’t too interesting, the voice editing to make his voice deeper makes him creepy at times, and the animation is mesmerizing.

Aside from that, it’s just 90s cheese and performative activism which does little to provide effective solutions. It’s not awful or anger-inducing, just kinda forgettable for me. If you have nothing else to watch and wanna see some decent animation and some rare comedy, it’s harmless enough. But it’s not a journey to the forest I’ll see myself taking again anytime soon.

Day 9 >> Day 10 >> Day 11

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