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schrijverr · 3 years

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Cried Out

When Hizashi accidentally uses his quirk after he gets startled, he retreats back into his shell, afraid to use his voice at all. Luckily Shota is there for him.

On AO3.

Ships: EraserMic

Warnings: self-loathing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present Mic was loud – Hizashi was loud – that was just a fact.

However, he hadn’t always been loud. As much as he yelled and talked now, there had been a time when Hizashi was scared to whisper, not to mention talk. He had gotten over it before he applied for UA, but his friends had known about it and sometimes he wasn’t in the mood to talk and they respected it.

Neither would mention how those days usually were after he’d lost control of his quirk or had been working intensively with it.

But that hadn’t happened in years. Shota grew up alongside Hizashi, they got better, went professional, even stepping side by side into the teaching position at UA. They knew each other and Shota was so proud of how far his friend, his beloved had come.

Sadly, just because something hadn’t happened in years, didn’t mean it could never come and rear its ugly head again.

It happened on a normal Thursday.

Hizashi had been walking towards the teachers lounge after school, completely unaware that there were still students in the building. The dorm system hadn’t been in place long andno one was fully used to the students being there full-time.

So when the door suddenly swung open and nearly hit him, he didn’t just jump from nearly being hit, but also from the human shape in the hallway. He couldn't help it, it startled him. It startled him so badly in fact that it ripped a scream from his throat.

A quirked up scream.

He could only watched, horrified, as the loud vibrations made it through the hallway, hitting the student who had been standing just a few feet away, head on.

Once the scream had left his mouth completely, he rushed forwards to the student frantically. He was about to ask if the kid was alright when he remembered what his voice had done, so he just quietly checked him over.

It was Bakugo.

Fuck.

He was a strong teen, sure, but still a teen. Not to mention a teen who had recently been kidnapped, so it wouldn’t be strange if was still a bit on edge. For him to be accidentally attacked by a teacher, probably wasn’t the best.

“Present Mic?” he asked confused and why wouldn’t he be confused? Hizashi was supposed to protect him, not attack him, he thought a bit hysterical.

Hizashi didn’t react, just held out a hand to haul him up and giving him concerned eyes. Bakugo let himself be pulled to his feet, still sending Hizashi weird looks as he asked: “Oi, are you okay?”

He replied with a curt nod and a tight smile, before leading him to Recovery Girl, wanting to make sure his attack hadn’t caused permanent damage. He was surprised the kid was still standing much less talking to him after it, honestly.

Recovery Girl raised a brow when they came in, only to frown when Hizashi didn’t say anything and Bakugo had to explain: “I think there’s something wrong with Present Mic.”

At that Hizashi shook his head and gestured to Bakugo that the kid was the one who needed to be checked over, not him.

“What happened?” Recovery Girl asked.

Bakugo had realized Hizashi wasn’t about to talk, so he answered: “I accidentally scared him when I left the classroom, he screamed, then got all weird and quiet.”

It dawned on Recovery Girl what must have happened and she asked: “When he screamed, did he use his quirk? Can you hear okay?”

“I can hear fine,” Bakugo frowned.

Hizashi slumped in relief, he was glad Bakugo was fine even if he didn’t understand how. Recovery Girl also seemed surprised but glad to hear it. She still wanted to make sure, so she said: “That’s good to hear. I still want to check, just in case, so take a seat. Yamada, go get Aizawa, it’s his student,” and your comfort, she didn’t add out loud.

Quickly nodding, Hizashi left, practically running to get Shota.

He found him taking a nap on the couch in the teachers lounge and he quickly shook him awake, a fond smile gracing his face when he blinked slowly. That smile fell away, when Shota asked: “Wha? Hizashi?”

Shota saw Hizashi’s expression and sat up, frowning: “What happened? Is everyone okay?”

Hizashi shrugged helplessly. Recovery Girl had said Bakugo was alright, but she still wanted to check and she had send for Shota, so maybe it wasn’t okay and it would be his fault.

“Hizashi?” Shota asked again.

He pointed at the door and tugged at Shota’s hand, feeling even more bad and guilty when worry appeared in those beautiful black eyes. But he couldn't talk, he couldn't risk hurting Shota or anyone else for that matter.

“Lead the way,” Shota told him, leaving his sleeping bag behind. If it rendered his husband speechless then it must be bad, fuck.

The feeling of dread creeped up even more on Shota when Hizashi took him to Recovery Girl’s office and gestured for him to go inside. He frowned and asked him: “You’re not coming with me?”

Hizashi shook his head, he wasn’t about to go into a room with more people that he could hurt or hurt again. He hated that he didn’t have anything to write with on him and that he’d never told Shota about it.

Sure the other knew, but he hadn’t said that he used to carry around a notebook and pen everywhere just in case. He was regretting that now, but it had seemed logical at the time.

As an awkward teen he hadn’t wanted the cool boy in his class to know he had so little control as a child and by the time it would be something he mentioned, it was no longer truly relevant and Hizashi had been glad to toss it into oblivion.

Until now.

Now he cursed himself as he paced up and down the hall while Shota went in to check on Bakugo and hear what Hizashi had done.

After a few nerve wrecking minutes Bakugo came out of the office, looking at his stressed out teacher and greeting him: “Hello, Present Mic.”

Hizashi smiled at him, but didn’t react. Bakugo rolled his eyes and looked away, before he put his hands in his pockets and scowled: “The old lady told me to tell you I’m fine and to stop worrying. Don’t be weird tomorrow.”

Then the teen walked off and Hizashi watched him go. He was glad the kid was fine, but he hated how he couldn't even comfort him or tell him he was fine. He also hated that he was terrified that he had to be in front of the class tomorrow.

How could he stand there and talk, knowing that a misstep could incapacitate the new generation of heroes? How would the school explain that to their parents? Or the press?

He hadn’t realized how focused he was on panicking until a hand on his shoulder startled him. He gasped then quickly slapped his hands before his mouth before any sound could come out.

“Already thought that was the problem,” Shota sighed.

Hizashi tried to swallow away the tears that built up when he heard his husband sound- well, he sounded disappointed or maybe more sad. At least negative and Hizashi had put that tone there in his nice gruff voice.

“Recovery Girl said you lost control,” Shota said and Hizashi wished he would forget, “But Bakugo is fine. With his explosive quirk, he has a natural protection against sounds and you didn’t use your quirk at full volume. He’s fine.”

No, he isn’t fine, he got lucky. Any other student and Hizashi would have been responsible for a lifelong injury.

“Can you talk to me, Hizashi?” Shota asked, voice soft and careful.

Hizashi shook his head.

“You’re too strung up right now, lets go to home and get you some tea,” Shota suggested, taking Hizashi’s hand and intertwining their fingers.

The contact was a balm on his worries and Hizashi held on like it was a lifeline as Shota lead them to the teachers dorms that had been instated along with the dorms for the students.

In their apartment, he sat Hizashi down on the couch and went to make tea while Hizashi stared at the table and tried to fight off the uneasy feeling coming from all sides.

Why did he get his license if he didn’t even have control?

How could he justify being a teacher when he had done that?

What would happen now?

He should stop being a teacher. He was dangerous.

“Hey, no attacking my husband,” Shota broke him out his thoughts as he held out a cup of tea.

Hizashi gladly took it and sipped, trying not to meet the eyes Shota was attempting to interlock. He knew his behavior wasn’t helping, but he was steeping guilt and fine to wallow in the feeling and not interact with anyone until he felt safe to do so.

“Can you look at me, dear?” Shota asked, petname perking Hizashi’s attention.

Cautiously Hizashi did, preparing to see disappointment and anger, despite the gentle voice. Instead he found a soft look and floating hair as Shota erased his quirk: “Talk to me, please.”

Relief flooded through Hizashi’s, he couldn't believehe hadn’t thought of that, and the tears that had been building slipped out of his eyes along with loud sobs. Shota rubbed his shoulder, softly telling him when he blinked so that Hizashi could hold the sob for a second.

When all the tears he had in him were spilled, he collapsed against Shota, who wrapped his arms around him and kissed his forehead.

“Want to tell me why this set you off? I know you had your quiet days, but I haven’t seen you cry about them like this since-” Shota cut himself off, but both knew what, or whom he had been referring to.

“I’m dangerous,” Hizashi whispered.

“You? Dangerous?” Shota sounded genuinely surprised, “Never. You’re the most caring and lovable guy I know. You’re the furthest from dangerous, Hizashi.”

“I attacked a student who hasjust been kidnapped, Shota,” Hizashi was trying to mix quiet and forceful, “I don’t have control. If it was anyone else, they would be permanently deaf. I- I shouldn’t be near people.”

“I would be upset with you if you weren’t near me,” Shota confessed.

“But you can erase my quirk, you can incapacitate me,” Hizashi countered, “The students can’t do that, they’re vul-”

Hizashi cut himself off when he saw Shota’s hair come down and he glared at his husband.

“Sorry, had to blink,” Shota apologized, not sounding that sorry for cutting of the self-loathing rant,“And I’m not scared of you. You aren’t dangerous, Hizashi, you’re tired. We all are. The world is different and we’re all working overtime. It was an accident.”

It was clear he was waiting for Hizashi to respond, but Hizashi wasn’t saying anything with his quirk still there.

Shota sighed when he realized and erased Hizashi’s quirk.

“I don’t care if it was an accident,” Hizashi frowned, “It was dangerous and I could have hurt someone. I’m no hero if my slip ups because I’m tired cause harm. UA is dealing with enough backlash as it is, we can’t afford my slip ups to createmore distrust. I’m resigning. I shouldn’t be allowed to use my quirk in pub-”

Again he cut himself off, because Shota stopped erasing his quirk. He shot him a glare that he hoped conveyed: you did that on purpose.

It did.

“Yeah, fuck that, I’m not sitting here and listening to you spouting bullshit, Hizashi. UA needs you, now more than ever. You’re a great and trustworthy asset and we already don’t have enough of that as it stands. We can’t loose you here, the students can’t loose you here.”

Hizashi rolled his eyes, but he was a bit touched, though not enough to be convinced.

Shota noticed and went on: “And what will you do when you resign? Go back to our apartment in the city? Not see me ever? Or come back to the dorms and be a ‘risk’ anyways? I don’t know if I can do that, Hizashi. I don’t know I would survive without you here.”

That hit home for Hizashi. Shota always tried to be independent and uncaring, but Hizashi knew better, of course he did. He had been there for all Shota’s lows. It was just rather unique for him to admit that he needed help from time to time.

But he had, he had admitted it. For him.Hizashi had been so wrapped up in himself, he hadn’t even thought about Shota.

Guilt bubbled up again and silent tears fell out of his eyes.

Shota wrapped him up in his arms again and shushed him soothingly. Hizashi wanted to tell him it should be the other way around. He should be comforting Shota, but it was hard to do that right now and his husband’s muscular chest felt safe.

“Please don’t go?” Shota asked, voice breaking.

Hizashi shook his head adamantly and held on tighter to Shota to show he wasn’t going anywhere. When Shota informed him he was erasing his quirk, he quickly said: “Never. I’m not going, darling. I’m right here, sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, just stay, it’s going to be okay,” Shota said, “Just take tomorrow off, rest. You need it. I’m sure Nezu would understand.”

He nodded into Shota’s chest and held on. He wasn’t ready to talk yet, wasn’t ready to be loud, but Shota had always understood that. He would be safe here, until he was ready to face the world with a smile and a yell.

#RR writing #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #erasermic #yamada hizashi #present mic #aizawa shouta #eraser head #eraser head x present mic #yamada hizashi x aizwa shouta #aizawa shota #recovery girl #bakugo katsuki #tw: self esteem issues #tw: self deprecation

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fidothefinch · 3 years

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he will tear you with his tongue

For Dick & Dami Week 2021, day 1: "Did you really mean that?"

Dick didn’t think. The goon was adjusting his grip on Damian’s knife, aiming the blade down his neck. The man wanted revenge, and on such short notice Dick only saw one option.

Pretend he didn’t care.

(Full fic under the cut, or read on Ao3)

Dick tapped the glass of his window casually, watching the familiar buildings of Gotham speed past his view.

“TT.”

Dick angled his body toward Damian. The kid was staring resolutely at the back of the seat in front of him, obviously still pouting over losing this particular argument before they had left the penthouse. “It’s just a few hours.”

“Hours I could have spent training. Or studying. Or watching paint dry.”

Dick fought back the quirk of his lips, knowing it would only send Damian into a darker mood. “Was that a joke?”

“I assure you, it was not.” Damian glowered.

“Think of it as training,” Dick offered. “Undercover work. We have to keep up appearances, so people don’t suspect us.”

“TT.” Damian shifted in his seat uncomfortably. His hands fisted the material of the opposite sleeves.

“Be careful not to crease your suit, Master Damian,” Alfred piped in from the front, the first words he had spoken since they had embarked on their journey into the city. “I will not have time to correct it before they begin filming.”

Damian released his sleeves like he had burned them, his fingers almost imperceptibly smoothing out the small wrinkles that had formed. He still sat with his back ramrod straight, but that was nothing uncommon for the uptight kid.

Still.

“Is there something you’re worried about?” Dick asked. “It should be perfectly safe—”

“I am not worried,” Damian growled. “I am annoyed that I am being forced to waste my time being interviewed on daytime television.”

“The morning news isn’t—”

“And I am not looking forward to putting on an act of stupidity like the rest of you.”

Okay, so that stung a little. Dick bit his tongue to control his instinctual comeback. Instead he analyzed what lay underneath the statement. “So you’re afraid you’ll look stupid.”

“It would be impossible not to, with you.”

Alfred let a sharp “Master Damian,” ring across the car, and to the butler’s credit, Damian’s face twitched.

“You cannot deny it,” Damian pressed. “I am doomed to adopt the act that my predecessors have started, and I must accept the fact I will be nakedly mocked on live television and in the drivel that they call news for the rest of the year.”

“Hey,” Dick said, trying to get his attention. When Damian looked up, there was a flicker of emotion behind his eyes before he blocked it off again. They were still working on that. “Who cares what the gossip says? The people that matter know who you really are.”

For a second, Dick thought the words may sink in, that Damian would answer like a normal human with empathy. “Is that what father told you before he kicked you out?”

“Damian—”

“Master Richard.”

Something in the butler’s voice immediately caught both of their attention.

“What’s wrong?” Dick asked, leaning forward to look over the dashboard. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the vehicle.

“It appears that we are being followed.”

Even as Alfred said it, Dick’s eyes caught on a set of headlights in the rearview mirror, tailing a little too closely to be comfortable. A matching black van followed them on their left, and when Dick looked forward, there was another one—no license plate— several cars ahead and to their right. “More like we’re being herded,” he muttered.

“I told you we should have brought our weapons,” Damian said. “I could kill the driver behind us within—”

“We’re not killing anybody.” The phrase had grown so familiar he didn’t even blink at it. “I’ll go ahead and call the police. Alfred, try to stay on the busier streets. They won’t try anything where there are so many witnesses.” At least, he hoped they wouldn’t. It really depended on who was in the vans.

Alfred nodded, changed his turn signal, and merged seamlessly into the middle lane.

The van behind them nosed in immediately after, cutting off the driver who had let them over.

Dick dug through his pockets until he found his phone and got to work dialing the police. But the device flew from his hands when, a moment later, the car lurched.

“They hit us,” Alfred explained. “I do not believe they are trying to be subtle, anymore.”

Clearly, whoever it was, they weren’t afraid of making a scene. Time to change tactics. “Think you can shake them?”

“I will try. Please buckle your seatbelt.”

Dick nodded, ducking to retrieve his phone before scrambling back into his seat. The screen was cracked from the force with which he had dropped it.

“Master Damian, you must wear your seatbelt, too.”

Dick shifted his attention away from his broken (non-functioning) phone to see Damian, kneeling backwards on the bench to glare out the rear windshield. “Damian, sit down.”

“I am sitting,” the kid replied, his eyes never leaving the van behind them. “The man has a prison tattoo on his left bicep and a shamrock tattoo on his neck. Are you familiar with him?”

“Turn around and put your ass. . . actually.” Dick twisted in his seat to get a look. (And released his seatbelt so he could look more clearly.) “Yeah, that’s Korban Branthwaite. He was part of a crew responsible for a string of bank robberies a while ago. He just got out on parole last month.”

“I could easily leap from our vehicle to his and demand an explanation.”

“You’re not doing that. I’m not letting you do that. Seriously, Damian. Put your seatbelt on before—” Dick’s next words were cut off by Alfred’s shout. He had just enough time to grab Damian before the van barreling toward them slammed into the side of their car.

Dick pulled Damian in close to his body, twisting around the smaller boy to protect him from the worse of the impact as the world around them erupted into chaos. The windows shattered inward, the door crumpling in like a crushed tin can. Their vehicle screeched and whined, snapping side to side hard enough to give Dick whiplash as the wheels fought to regain traction. The view outside spun across the windows, road-cars-trees-dirt blurring into an incomprehensible mess.

Dick shut his eyes and held on tighter, his stomach swooping like it did on the trapeze.

After what felt like an eternity, the motion stopped.

He waited until he was sure, until the rocking of the car stilled and the only noise was of the traffic passing outside. Only then did Dick loosen his fingers, let his eyes stray down to the quiet face tucked under his chin. “Are you okay?” he asked, the slight waver inn his voice giving away his worry.

“Tt.” Damian pushed against Dick’s chest, propelling himself backward. “I am fine.”

Uh-huh.

Dick looked him over and was relieved to find nothing worse than a few scratches and bruises from the broken glass. Damian had already shifted his attention outside, where the van that had hit them rested several yards away. He smacked Dick’s hand away when he tried to brush broken glass out of his hair. “I do not believe they were trying to kill us.”

Dick pressed his lips together. “No.” Then, panic hit him with more clarity. “Alfred!”

“I am alright, Master Richard.”

Dick pushed to the front seat, knowing that he lived with a family of liars who would prefer to bleed out than admit they had an injury. Alfred was pinned back by his seatbelt, and a quick scan revealed a bleeding nose and broken arm. “We’ll get Leslie to set that,” Dick promised him.

“They’re coming,” Damian said, voice serious.

“Who?”

“Your thieves.”

Dick stooped to look out the windshield, and, sure enough, another of the black vans had pulled up, blocking their view of the road beyond. Four men trotted down the small incline toward their car. “Shit.”

“You are sure we cannot kill them?”

Dick didn’t get the chance to respond. The men reached their car and forced the good doors open hard enough to shake it again.

“Get out,” one of the men barked. He was a big guy, with a handlebar mustache and a matching shamrock tattoo, but on his arm.

“No,” Damian sneered.

Two of the men flanking the big one pulled out guns. Dick reacted on instinct, backing up and spreading his arms to block their view of Damian. He couldn’t let the kid get shot.

“I won’t tell you again,” the man threatened.

“Look, I’ll come.” Dick held up his hands non-threateningly. “Leave the kid here. He doesn’t know anything.”

The man looked him up and down with a predatory gaze that made Dick shiver. Finally, he gave a curt nod. “Grab him.”

The two men flanking him lowered their weapons in favor of reaching inside, grabbing each of Dick’s arms and hauling him out. When Dick’s feet found the grass, they wasted no time fastening zipties around his wrists and a blindfold over his eyes.

Dick breathed deeply to control his fear reaction as they shoved him blindly forward.

“Let go of me!”

“Damian?” Dick dug his heels in, stopping their progress. “You said—”

“Shut up before I decide to bring the old man, too.”

Dick pressed his tongue into the roof of his mouth as hard as he could. Alfred needed to be looked at by a medical professional; it would do him no good being dragged into this. But Damian was untested, as far as civilian kidnappings went.

If this was a kidnapping.

They frog-marched Dick to what he assumed was the van before tossing him inside. He landed hard on his stomach, his face rubbing against rough, crusty carpet. The smell of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and stale sweat assaulted his nose.

“Where are you taking us?” he asked.

A warm, bony body landed on top of his, letting out a muffled snarl of displeasure. So they had gagged Damian. That was probably a good thing.

“That’s none of your concern,” the lead man replied.

The van rocked as the rest of the men filed in. Doors rolled shut around them, the engine rumbled to life, and the car swayed as it pulled back up onto the road.

“Search his pockets.”

“Wait.” Before hands could begin roaming all over his body (a thought that made his skin crawl), Dick offered, “My wallet’s in the left breast pocket of my jacket.”

A big hand slipped into his jacket and retrieved it easily.

“Phone?”

Dick internally cringed, already knowing where this was going. “I don’t have it.”

“Search him.”

Dick couldn’t see the touches coming; he couldn’t help but flinch away from each brush of contact. “I don’t have it. I lost it in the wreck.”

There was a muffled growl from next to him. God, they were searching Damian, too.

“Found one on the kid.”

“Give it to me,” the leader commanded. A moment later, “Give me his thumb. I need access.”

The smaller body next to Dick suddenly jolted away. The movement was accompanied by deep gasps and shuffling feet.

“Fuck. The kid has a knife!”

If it were any other situation, Dick would roll his eyes. As it was, he silently thanked the heavens that Damian had managed not to lethally stab anybody yet. He reached around blindly, trying to find him.

“Well, take it away from him!”

“You do it!”

A growl. “Pathetic. You’re scared of a little boy.”

A muffled yelp.

“No! Wait!” Unable to find his brother, Dick scooted toward the sound of something dragging across the carpet. “Stop!”

He finally reached Damian’s side, only for a white-hot slash of pain to slice down his arm. He couldn’t help his grunt in reaction.

The sound of the knife falling to the floor was muffled by the carpet, but unmistakable. Dick couldn’t see, but he was positive that it was immediately retrieved by one of the goons.

Sure enough, the leader laughed, somewhere above Dick’s head. “Did daddy teach the little brat some self-defense?”

“Leave him alone,” Dick growled. He found Damian’s shirt and clung to it.

“Oh?” Hot breath fanned across Dick’s face, much too close to be comfortable. “Feeling a little. . . protective?”

Dick’s heart jumped in his chest.

Something in his face must have showed it, because the goons around him laughed. “We must have gotten the right one, then. Norman will be pleased.”

“Who’s that?” Dick asked. “Listen, I can get you money—”

“That’s not why we’re here,” the leader said.

“Then what do you want?”

The leader’s mouth curled into a cruel grin. “You’ll see.”

A rag was closed over his lower face, the sharp stench of chloroform following. Dick thrashed his head, but between the blindfold and his bound hands he had no (reasonable) defense.

Between one breath and the next, he fell asleep.

“Take off his blindfold.”

Dick blinked, more for the release of pressure on his eyes than for the light, which was dim inside the small, windowless room. He was still groggy, his head pounded from the last dredges of chloroform, and his shoulders already ached from behind tied around the back of his chair, but his attention was immediately caught by his surroundings.

Four men stared down at him threateningly. One of them had his arms wrapped around Damian, who was also tied to a chair, still blindfolded and gagged.

More threatening was the knife poised over Damian’s face.

Dick’s heart hammered at the sight. “I won’t fight you. You don’t have to hurt him.”

“Ah, but we do,” called a new voice, from behind.

Dick tried to twist, but he had to wait until the man chose to step into his sightline. He had dark hair and a rat-like face: small eyes, yellow teeth, and a sparse moustache. The smirk he gave Dick held a mix of resentment and triumphant possessiveness.

“I’ve got money,” Dick tried, even remembering how the offer had gone last time. “I just need to make a phone call.”

The man clicked his tongue and shook his head. “That will not work. You see,” he offered, removing his tobacco-stained fingers from his pockets. “This has been a long-time coming. I could get money, but you’re rich, so what would that really teach you?”

This was personal. This was bad.

The man took a step forward, leaning into Dick’s personal space. “I could get sex.” Dick flinched. “But I bet you would enjoy that.”

A sick feeling rose in Dick’s stomach at the insinuation.

“I want to give you a pain that will last,” the man finished, eyes trailing over to Damian.

The goon that was holding his brother down had moved his arm around Damian’s neck, forcing his chin up and back. It would take almost nothing to break his neck.

Dick forced himself to shove aside his panic and think. This was personal; the man wanted to cause pain. He needed to keep the man’s attention off Damian until help could arrive. “Who are you?” Dick asked.

The rat-faced man turned to him with bared teeth. “My name is Norman Darth, and you’re the reason my wife left me.”

Dick blinked a few times, stalling while he racked his brain for why the name was familiar. Norman’s face grew darker as he waited for some kind of reaction. It was that look that reminded Dick where he had seen him before: caught for embezzling charity money, back during Dick’s BPD days.

“I’m sorry to hear about your wife,” he said, trying to sound sincere but firm. “You don’t have to do this.”

Norman sneered. “You don’t get it! I loved her!” He snapped his fingers, and the goons around him straightened their posture. “It’s your fault I lost the person I loved. Now it’s going to be my fault you lose yours.”

Dick didn’t think. The goon was adjusting his grip on Damian’s knife, aiming the blade down his neck. The man wanted revenge, and on such short notice Dick only saw one option.

Pretend he didn’t care.

“So, what? You’re going to threaten me with him?”

The goon frowned, and the knife pressed in, just enough to draw a drop of blood. “Don’t test me,” he warned.

“Shut up,” Norman barked. “Just kill him. Make it slow.”

Dick laughed. Damian startled at the sound, and it made it nearly impossible for Dick to keep the tremble out of his own voice. “Go ahead, do your worst. See if I care.”

The goon’s hand hesitated, not pushing any deeper into Damian’s neck. After a moment, Norman held up a hand to call him off. “You’re bluffing,” he said, almost phrasing it like a question.

Bingo.

Dick scoffed. “That would be stupid.”

“He cared about him in the van,” the big man, the one Dick had thought had been the leader, said. “Got real protective.”

Norman pursed his lips, considering Dick coldly. “Cut him,” he said, instead. “Nowhere lethal, yet.”

The man holding Damian dropped the blade to Damian’s bound arm and pierced Damian’s jacket and shirt. Norman didn’t even look back, instead raising an eyebrow at Dick’s non-reaction to the knife running down Damian’s arm like it were warm butter. Not too deep, but deep enough it definitely hurt. Maybe even deep enough to scar.

Damian managed not to make a sound, a fact that didn’t comfort Dick. What he could see of the kid’s face and body was clenched tight, trying to stay still so as not to disturb the weapon trailing along his body.

“Threatening him won’t get you what you want,” Dick promised. He didn’t know how he kept his tone so even. “He’s not worth that much.”

The man suddenly twisted the blade, opening the wound in Damian’s upper arm further. Damian yelped this time, the sound muffled by the duct tape over his mouth.

Dick managed not to flinch.

“Damn, you really don’t care about him, do you?” One of the other goons in the room asked. “Is that what money does to you?”

“He’s not my kid,” Dick said, shrugging. The words already tasted bitter in his mouth. “I’m just stuck with him.”

Damian sucked in a sharp breath. It had nothing to do with the man removing the knife and everything to do with Dick’s words.

Dick had to look away. “I only watch him because Bruce asked me to.”

A pregnant pause followed the words.

“I don’t believe you,” Norman said. He was not convincing.

Dick made eye contact, pointedly ignoring the small hands, clenched into tight fists across from him. “If I knew where his mom was,” he said, feeling his chest tighten at the words, “I’d send him back.”

Norman studied his face, his expression a deep frown of disgust. “You’re a terrible father,” he spat.

“I’m not—” Dick started, ready to continue the ruse for as long as it took to keep the attention off Damian. But he was cut off when the wall next to them fell away, nearly crushing two of the goons underneath.

Spoiler stepped through the door. “Sorry we’re late. Traffic was terrible.”

Black Bat followed her into the room, her silence speaking for itself.

Damian was suspiciously quiet for the entire ride back to the Cave. Dick tried to get him to let him take a look at his arm, which was still bleeding under the field dressings that Cass had applied, but Damian had brushed away his attempts with a curt “Pennyworth will take care of it.”

Okay, so the kid was being a little more moody than usual. Understandable, since he had spent the last several hours immobile, blind, and silenced. Dick didn’t push it.

But when the behavior continued into the next day, and then the day following that, he grew worried. Damian was avoiding him, for some reason. He spent his time tucked away in his own room, and he didn’t engage in conversation over dinner. Damian had always been. . . prickly, but Dick had thought they were making progress. This was something new.

They needed to talk.

Dick finally got his chance when he found Damian on the manor’s lawns, walking Titus. Dick fell into step eagerly. “Hey, Damian.”

“Tt.” Damian didn’t even look over at him. He didn’t actively try to get away, though, either, and Dick took that as an invitation.

“Nice weather, huh?”

“It is raining.”

“I know.” Dick brushed his wet hair back. “It’s nice.”

“Tt.”

They walked in silence for several minutes, and it drove Dick crazy that he couldn’t read whether it was companionable or awkward. When Titus found a spot to squat, Dick seized the opportunity. “I think we need to talk.”

“Were we not talking earlier?”

“No, something’s up.” Dick studied Damian’s impassive face. “Is something bothering you?”

“No,” was Damian’s immediate reply. But Dick had learned Damian’s tells, and he caught the way the boy’s hands flexed.

“Are you sure?” Dick prompted, gently. “You can tell me if something’s wrong. I won’t be mad.”

Damian stared at the ground, letting the hood of his rain jacket obscure his expression for him. “You do not have to pretend with me, any longer,” he declared.

Dick bit his tongue, tasting the words. “Pretend?”

“I am here only for training,” Damian continued. “You are not obligated to be involved in my life otherwise.”

“Obligated?” Dick asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

Damian finally looked up at him, and he wore a stony expression. “You confessed your feelings towards me to Darth,” he said. “Did you really mean that?”

All of the blood fell out of Dick’s face. He felt nauseous again, like he had been freshly chloroformed. “No.”

Damian looked away again, his shoulders tight. “Okay.”

“No, Damian.” Dick grabbed his shoulders to spin him around. “I know we don’t always get along, but I care about you.”

To his surprise, Damian’s eyes were shining. “You would not send me back to mother, if you had the chance?”

Dick pulled Damian in for a hug, holding him tight and tucking head under his chin. “Never,” he said, squeezing harder in hopes it would press the words into Damian’s psyche. “You’re too important to me.”

Damian didn’t pull away.

In fact, Damian leaned into the hug, maybe for the first time ever.

“I love you,” Dick repeated.

“Tt.”

Dick smiled, understanding what went unsaid.

#dick&damiweek2021 #dick & damian #batfam #dick grayson #damian wayne #fido writes

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years

Text

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 6: End of the Rope

Chapter 5

Read on AO3

Claire was supposed to be looking at charts on the computer in front of her, and she would, of course, right after she finished checking her phone for any messages from Mrs. Lickett.

“Beauchamp!”

Fuck.

“That’s the third time I’ve caught you on your phone. You trying to get fired on your first day?”

Her supervisor, Doctor Moore, was the most Nurse Ratched type Claire had ever seen in real life: tyrannical and unforgiving. The only difference was the grating nasality of her thick Long Island accent. Claire opened her mouth to defend herself, for the third time, but Ratched cut her off.

“Plenty of other doctors have kids at home, Doctor Beauchamp. Do you see any of the rest of them with their heads buried in their phones like teenagers?”

Claire could feel the tips of her ears growing hot with rage, but she swallowed it down and answered as levelly as possible: “No, Doctor Moore.”

“Get going. Your team is waiting for you.”

Claire exhaled heavily as soon as the tight-faced woman bustled out of the room, clenching her teeth to avoid outwardly groaning.

“The Ratched already on your nerves?”

Claire practically jumped out of her skin. She turned in the swiveling chair to see a kind-faced black man about her age, perhaps a bit older, smiling at her. He was sitting at a computer as well, craning his neck around to look at her. His eyes were dark, but soft.

“Did you read my bloody mind?” Claire stammered, still slightly alarmed.

He gave a short, barking laugh. “Seems I did. Everyone calls her that. Not to her face, mind you.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Claire’s eyes widened at the thought of doing so.

“I’m Joe, Joe Abernathy.” He stood and crossed the room to shake her hand.

“Claire Beauchamp,” Claire returned, taking his hand.

He chuckled as he returned his hand to his side.

“What?” Claire said, face scrunching in suspicion.

“Just thinking about you asking if I read your bloody mind,” he said, flashing his teeth in a wide grin. “I heard you were English, but to hear it is another thing.”

Claire rolled her eyes, though she couldn't suppress her own smile as she turned back to the computer to complete her given task.

“Kids at home, huh?” His tone was sympathetic, having heard Doctor Moore’s reaming out of Claire.

“Just one,” Claire said. “I’m quite aware there are other parents here,” she continued hotly, though her anger was not directed at the man standing before her. “But I’d like to know how many of them are single parents of a daughter with special needs.”

Joe nodded in quiet understanding. “That must be tough, leaving her all day.”

Claire nodded, fighting the urge to check her phone again. “I’ve never left her alone with a babysitter this long. When I was in school I was still married, so she wasn’t ever alone for too long even though her father was a professor. After the move and the new schedules…I’m just worried.” All the while, Claire kept her eyes on the screen, scanning over charts and making mental notes. “The woman’s a marvel; I wouldn’t have hired her if she wasn’t. I just can’t help it. She’s nonverbal, my daughter. Autism.”

“Ah.” Joe nodded. “Gotcha.”

“So I just keep waiting for a call that she’s having a meltdown and that even the all-knowing, licensed professional can’t calm her down because she can’t tell her what’s wrong.” Claire shook her head, sighing. “It’s silly, I know.”

“Nah, not at all.” Joe shrugged, keeping his tone casual, but his eyes still shone with sympathy.

“Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload my whole life story on you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I get it. I’ve never personally known anyone with autism, but you see it come in and out of the hospital often enough. It’s scary as hell when there’s something wrong and they can’t tell you, even the verbal ones sometimes.”

“Right.”

“I didn’t mean to make you worry more,” he said quickly. “I’m sure everything is just fine. All I’m saying is I get why you’re worried. And Ratched sure as hell doesn’t. I’d like to tell her to kiss my ass.”

Claire chuckled through her nose, taking note of one more thing on the computer before turning to smile up at him.

“Thanks, Doctor Abernathy.”

“Please, none of that in private.” He waved her off. “Just Joe when there are no patients.”

“Alright, then.” Claire logged off the computer and gathered her things. “Thanks, Joe.”

“No problem. Good luck out there, Lady Jane.”

She paused in the doorway. “What was that?”

He grinned. “One of the other residents called you that. Said your accent sounds like you just had tea with the queen.” He held up his hands, pantomiming holding a teacup and saucer, sticking his pinky out.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.” Claire laughed, rolling her eyes as she wrenched the door open.

“Toodle-pip, my lady!” She heard him call behind her.

Christ, was she doomed to have nicknames thrown at her reminding her of her Englishness for all eternity?

Her heart warmed at the thought of that soft Scottish burr saying Sassenach, and more laughter bubbled in her chest at the thought of her newest title.

She supposed she didn’t mind.

——

Claire was dead on her feet by the time eight o’clock rolled around. She briefly glanced back at the hospital in her rear-view mirror as she pulled away, and despite how her head and feet throbbed, she was thrilled at the prospect of every day being like this one.

When she’d done her research on specialities back in the days before med school, she’d read of the unpredictability of Emergency Medicine, of never knowing what kinds of emergencies would burst through the doors at any given moment. The prospect had thrilled her then, and experiencing it first-hand now was even more thrilling. Today alone, she’d saved a man’s finger after a cooking knife incident, put a shoulder back in place, stopped a head wound from bleeding long enough to see the patient into a successful surgery, and saved a pregnant woman and the baby after trauma-induced labor from a car accident.

It was quite a heady feeling.

Despite the thrill, however, there was nothing Claire craved more than the sight of her little girl’s face, the sound of her happy humming to see that Mummy was home.

The whole day had gone by without a hitch, unless Mrs. Lickett was hiding something from her. The only updates she’d gotten were positive ones, prompted by Claire’s frantic “is everything ok??” texts.

Claire had washed up and changed out of her scrubs at the hospital so that she could spend whatever little time was left before Faith’s bedtime with her on the couch, and then she could fully shower and decompress once Faith was asleep.

Claire turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door, but before she could take a single step into the living room, a little body was plastered against her legs, wrapping itself tightly around her.

“Hello, baby!” Claire cried out joyously as a buzz of humming filled her ears. “Oh, Mummy missed you so much!” She pried her daughter off her legs and scooped her into her arms, dropping her bag on the porch. Claire held her close, kissing her cheek.

Faith nuzzled her face into Claire’s, rubbing her mother’s cheeks as their foreheads rested together.

“Hello love,” Claire whispered, rocking her gently in the doorway. “I missed you, too, baby. Yes, hello.”

Claire gradually moved them into the apartment, kicking her bag inside and nudging the door shut with her knee.

“Hello, Mrs. Lickett,” Claire said, struggling to meet her eye around Faith’s pawing of her face.

The older woman was smiling warmly. “Hello, Miss Beauchamp.”

“Everything was alright today, then?”

“Sure was,” Mrs. Lickett said. “Faith was a very good girl, right Faith?”

“Is that right, lovie? Were you a good girl for Mrs. Lickett?” Claire shifted her onto one hip and bounced her, eliciting a few giggles. A glance at the telly told her that Finding Nemo was nearing its end; Mrs. Lickett had paused it upon Claire’s arrival.

“How was the first day at the hospital?” Mrs. Lickett said, gathering her things.

“It was…a lot. But good, very good.” Claire crashed on the couch with Faith, trying to settle her and failing. Faith very firmly insisted on remaining in Claire’s lap. “I did miss her very much, though. It’s been a while since I’ve been away from her for so long.” She wrapped her arms around her and pressed a tender kiss to the crown of her head.

“I understand. I could tell she missed you, too, but I kept her pretty busy.”

“I appreciate that.”

“We started some basic signs today,” Mrs. Lickett beamed. “Might be a while before it registers, but at least she knows now. The more you start using them around her, the better.”

“Right.” Claire nodded. “I’ve been watching those videos you sent me every night.”

“That’s good.”

Faith made a rather indignant noise, pointing toward the telly.

“Somebody wants to get back to her movie,” Mrs. Lickett said.

“Right.” Claire forced a smile. She wanted to stop her from leaving, to sit down at the table and spend the entire night talking about every minute of the entire day, every little accomplishment, everything Faith was learning. But she supposed if she wanted that much involvement, she’d be home with them herself instead of pursuing a career as a full-time physician.

Jesus, Beauchamp. You sound like Frank.

Shuddering at the thought, Claire adjusted Faith so she could watch Mrs. Lickett go. “I’d see you out, but I’m a bit pinned down at the moment.” She gestured with her head to Faith, sitting in her lap and locking her grip on Claire’s arms around her.

“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Say goodnight, Faith,” Claire said, releasing an arm so she could wave to the woman. Faith mimicked her, waving emphatically as Mrs. Lickett shut the door behind her. The second she was gone, Faith groaned again at the telly, and Claire smiled.

“Alright, be patient.” Claire reached for the remote on the coffee table. “I’m quite eager to see if Nemo escapes to the ocean, as well.”

Claire, of course, had the movie memorized, along with the rest of the DVDs in their vast collection. Perhaps it was Faith rubbing off on her, but she didn’t think she’d ever tire of watching them over and over again, especially not if it meant she would always get to spend this time cradling her little girl.

When the movie ended about fifteen minutes later, Faith slipped out of Claire’s lap and waited expectantly by the DVD player. Normally, Faith liked to listen to the music during the ending credits, so Claire didn’t make any moves to take the disc out yet. Only when Faith grunted and started tugging on Claire’s hand did she get the message.

“No music tonight, darling?” she said, puzzled, as she removed the disc and handed the box to Faith to file away. She was buzzing with excitement. Something was up, and Claire was none the wiser. The very second the DVD was away, Faith bolted into her bedroom, leaving Claire bewildered. She’d only just started to get up when Faith returned, holding a pile of colorful paper in her hands.

“What’s this, now?” Claire’s face lit up at the sight of Faith’s toothy grin, holding up the construction paper. Claire could see they were cut into the shape of little fish, and they were plastered with glitter, pompoms, google-eyes, and marker.

“Did you make these, Faith? Did you make these little fishies?” Faith hummed loudly and jumped up and down. “Oh, they’re marvelous, darling! You’re quite the little artist!”

Claire perused every single colorful fish, and she made a note to thank Mrs. Lickett. Arts and crafts were something Claire had never been into as a child herself, and something she didn’t have the time or the creative mind to think of. It was obvious now that Faith adored creating, and Claire wanted to smack herself upside the head for not thinking of it sooner. God bless that Mrs. Lickett.

“No wonder we watched Nemo tonight, hm? Are these Nemo’s little friends, then?” Claire held up a bright pink paper fish and swam it around in the air, much to Faith’s delight. Faith joined in the little game, and though Claire knew that bedtime was rapidly approaching — for both of them — she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

After a few minutes, Claire led Faith into the kitchen so they could use magnets to put the fish on the fridge. Claire let her arrange them to her heart’s content, only leading her into the bathroom when she was satisfied.

Teeth brushed, pajamas donned, Faith tucked in, and nightlight on, Claire finally allowed herself to fully feel the exhaustion of her day. The adrenaline of seeing Faith had kept her wide awake on the drive home, and then actually being with her had chased away any thoughts of sleepiness. Now, she barely had the energy to prepare a shower, and she very well almost crashed into bed, fully dressed. It was sheer willpower that finally got her back into the bathroom. This reminded her that tomorrow was bath night for Faith, and she sent up a brief prayer that she would cooperate for Mrs. Lickett. She’d considered waiting until she got home and just taking her into the shower with her, but that would have interrupted the movie, and God forbid that should happen. But if she’d waited until the movie was over, it would have been too late, and the routine would be disrupted. No, it had to be Mrs. Lickett.

Washed and dressed for bed, Claire was wide awake, despite how weariness was etched into every muscle and bone in her body. She could not stop thinking about all of the silly little things that could go wrong while she was occupied at the hospital, of all the possible triggers for a meltdown that she would not be able to stop. No matter how well today had gone, no matter how wonderful Mrs. Lickett was, she’d never stop worrying. Maybe not never, but it would certainly be a long time. At some point in her fevered, internal ramblings, Claire teetered into oblivion, grateful for whatever sleep she was lucky enough to get before her alarm screamed again.

——

Claire drove home the following Friday, her knuckles white on the steering wheel and her vision blurred with tears. She’d been so damn grateful to clock out at four o’clock, and she’d barely made it out of the locker room without falling apart in front of Joe.

She lost a patient for the first time today. Paul Castano, forty-seven, much too young for the heart attack that killed him.

Claire had been beside herself, and Joe had soothed her, told her there was nothing she could have done.

“Go home and hug your daughter, Lady Jane,” he’d said. “Enjoy the horses. You need it as much as she does right now.”

And, Christ, did she.

Claire hugged Faith just a little too hard for the slightest bit too long when she got home after nearly bursting into tears at Faith’s joy to see her. Faith did not tolerate being held as such for very long, and she squirmed out of Claire’s grasp. Today, not only was Faith happy to see her mother, she was excited: she knew it was horse therapy day.

Seeing Faith so happy to see her and so excited to get to the stables was a welcome distraction from the anguish Claire was feeling. The drive over to the stables was calming as well, though Claire was now paranoid about the change in appointment times. Toni hadn’t called her at all, so she had no reason to believe that the switch hadn’t gone over well. She supposed after the day she’d had, she’d be prone to overthinking just about anything.

Upon arrival, she calmed considerably at seeing Faith’s exuberance, and even laughed when she began tugging on her hand, willing them to get inside faster.

Leave it to you to get me laughing on the worst of days, Faith.

The door to the visitor’s center opened, and Faith began humming loudly.

“There they are, the Beauchamp girls!” Toni greeted warmly.

“Hello, Toni. Say hello to Miss Toni, Faith.”

“Hello, Faith!” Toni called as Faith waved timidly.

Erica was standing by the counter, and she crouched down to greet Faith. “Hello, Princess. I’m so happy to see you again!”

Faith smiled shyly and hid half of her little body behind her mother’s legs.

“I’m gonna take you guys out to the stable today, get her started with the hellos and leading her to the riding hall.” Erica stood up to address Claire. “Jamie will join us when we get there.”

“Alright,” Claire said, exhaling deeply. “Shall we?”

——

Joe had been right. Claire needed that hour at the stables just as much as Faith had. As they were driving home, Claire felt something resembling peace settle in her heart. Faith was humming happily, kicking her legs, waving the newest Minion Happy Meal toy in the air.

She did very well again today. She was gentle with Pippi, she didn’t protest about the helmet, she was attentive to both Erica and Jamie. Claire kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go terribly wrong, but it just never did. Not at the stables, at least.

They arrived home, Faith zipping up the stairs to the front door as usual. Claire was grateful to get to watch an entire movie with Faith tonight, to decompress, to hold her little girl and be soothed by her oblivious, youthful happiness. When they passed through the front door, Claire dumped the contents of her arms onto the couch as usual and started toward the kitchen, but Faith did not follow.

“Faithie, come on! Don’t you want your chicken?”

Faith didn’t seem to hear her. She lifted Claire’s purse and looked underneath, and then let out a groan.

“What’s the matter darling?”

Faith made a beeline for the front door, and Claire sprinted to lock it, having forgotten to do so upon arriving home.

“No, no, no,” she quickly blocked Faith’s exit. “What are you doing, Faith? What’s wrong?”

Faith began whining and pawing at Claire, hitting her thighs.

“Do not hit, Faith.” Claire crouched down and grabbed her wrists. “What is wrong? Hm? Hungry? Tired? Pain?” She did the signs that she’d learned from the videos Mrs. Lickett had sent. “Can you sign for Mummy? What’s wrong?”

Of course, she couldn’t. It was much too soon for Faith to be carrying out conversation; she’d only just learned any signs at all.

Faith suddenly began wailing.

“Faith, baby, it’s alright, I’m here…” She wrapped her in her arms, but it only lasted for a moment. Faith clawed her way out and began pounding on the door.

What could possibly be wrong? What was she looking for on the couch…?

Then it dawned on her.

Horsie.

She hadn’t checked to see if Faith was holding the stuffed horse before they left the stables.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Oh, darling, it’s alright!” She stroked her head and tried cupping her cheeks. “Can you look at my eyes, Faith? Faith…it’s alright. We’ll get Horsie back next week. He’ll be alright.”

She was inconsolable.

Claire exhaled heavily and stood up to retrieve the Happy Meal from the coffee table.

“Aren’t you hungry, darling? McDonald’s! Your favorite!” She held the box in front of Faith’s eyes. “Come on, lovie, let’s go eat.”

She reached to grab her hand, but Faith shrieked and pulled back, apparently having no intention of eating a thing until Horsie was returned. She’d be quite hungry by next Friday.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ…” Claire threw the Happy Meal back on the coffee table and ran a hand through her hair.

She needs to eat dinner. I have to make this stop. There has to be something…

“Do you want to watch a movie, lovie? How about Frozen?”

Claire scrambled to get the DVD in, holding her breath until the movie started, praying that she’d be drawn to the screen and sit down to watch quietly, and then she could gradually coax her to eat on the couch.

But she just continued wailing.

Claire knew full well once a meltdown was in motion it had to run its course. And this particular meltdown would not run its course until the missing object in question was found.

But she can’t not eat, she can’t not sleep…

Claire didn’t realize she started crying until it was too late.

It was just too much. She’d held a man’s hand today while he died before her eyes, and then hugged his inconsolable wife while she came to terms with having to tell her children their father wasn’t coming home. And then Claire had come home and sought comfort in her own child, and she’d gotten a bit, but of course it didn’t last long.

She knew by the time she drove back, the stable would be closed, so she could not go and pick it up. She tried calling the stable, but no one answered. Apparently, everyone had already gone home.

Faith gave a particularly loud shriek, and Claire felt all her nerves go shot one by one. Hands trembling she scrolled through her phone for something, anything.

Jamie.

Toni had provided her the stable number, her own number, and Jamie’s number in case the main phone was busy. He’d mentioned that he and the other therapists took turns staying after closing to see to the horses. She threw up a quick prayer before clicking on his contact to start a phone call. Even if he wasn’t the one that had stayed today, perhaps he could tell her who had and give her their number?

As the line rang, she felt surges of panic go through her. Was this even appropriate? To be contacting his personal cell number for something that wasn’t really an emergency?

Faith started pounding on the front door again, screaming her head off all the while.

Claire suddenly didn’t given a fuck about what was appropriate.

——

Jamie was sitting at his kitchen table, enjoying the stir fry he’d made for himself and his usual glass of whisky. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he made a note to check his texts later, but then it kept buzzing. Somebody was calling him.

Curious, he pulled out his phone and saw a number he didn’t recognize.

“Bloody telemarketers,” was his first thought, but the area code was local. Eyes narrowing in curiosity, he swiped up to accept the call, setting his fork down.

"Hallo? Who's this?"

"Uh...hi, Jamie. It's Claire. Claire Beauchamp. From the stables.”

Jamie felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

"Oh...Oh! Uh, hello, Claire. What's uh...what's going on?"

Someone on the other end shrieked, and his stomach lurched.

"Is that Faith? Is she alright?"

"Yes, she's perfectly fine. Physically, at least. She left her horse at the stable, the stuffed one. She's absolutely beside herself and she won't stop crying. Nothing is calming her down, none of her other toys, not putting on a movie or music, not even food.”

Jamie felt his chest tighten. Her voice sounded strained, and she seemed completely frazzled. The second he’d laid eyes on her at the stable today he could tell that something was wrong. It wasn’t the usual sadness he saw in her eyes, it was something different, something visceral. Whatever was happening now was certainly not helping.

“She won't eat, and I know she won't sleep either. I called you because no one was picking up at the stable and I was hoping you'd still be there but just not near the phone?"

"Yeah, I'm still here. Just in the stable. Canna hear the phone," he answered without thinking. What the damned hell are ye doing, lad?

"Oh, thank Christ. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"No," he said quickly. "I'll, uh, I'll bring it to ye."

"What...?"

"Wouldna do fer ye to be drivin' wi' Faith as she is now." Though Jamie was making things up to cover the fact that he was already home, he wasn't entirely wrong. Even if he was at the stable, he wouldn't feel comfortable with Claire driving twenty minutes with a screaming bairn. "Wouldna be safe.”

"But...it's...are you sure...? You wouldn't get in trouble?"

"Nah. I'm sure other therapists have done the same fer some o' their kids."

Keep digging, James.

"But you haven't done it before?"

"No."

"But others have?"

"Aye." Liar.

"Alright...as long as you're sure it's not inappropriate."

"Only inappropriate if we make it so, Sassenach."

Why the bloody fuck did I say that?

Claire cleared her throat. “Right. So…you’ve got my address from Faith’s file?”

“Aye.”

“So...twenty minutes? Half hour?"

"Aye. Just about."

Idiot. Bloody feckin’ idiot.

"Alright. See you soon."

"Bye, then."

Jamie hung up, threw his phone on the table and slapped an exasperated hand over his face.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What is wrong wi’ ye?”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #outlander au #claire fraser #claire beauchamp #faith fraser #jamie fraser #joe abernathy

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herohotline · 4 years

Text

Wet Clay (P.1)

Shouta Aizawa x Reader

A/N: alright let's try this again. take 2 everybody

Summary: You’ve been officially hired as U.A’s first school counselor. You’re assigned to help the hero course- learning more about their students and teachers along the way. And if you manage to catch a crush on one of said teachers... You just hope he doesn’t distract you from doing your job.

Word Count: 3,300+

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

If there was one thing you knew about U.A, it was that the school seemed like a never-ending magnet for trouble. They’ve already been on the news twice this year due to villain attacks, and it made you wonder: hey, who’s taking care of the aftermath?

You’ve been working as a freelance therapist for over ten years, and you reached into several things. Family sessions, PTSD recovery, addiction therapy, the works. So with high hopes, you came to U.A one day with a proposal for the principal. Getting a meeting with him wasn’t easy, so you intended to use the time you got with him wisely.

Your meeting was scheduled at a random time of day- the middle of the school day, really, so when you made your way to Nezu’s office, you saw several students. They seemed like busy little bees, rushing over to the cafeteria with smiles- it must be lunch hour. The whole place was insanely big, and you wouldn’t have been able to navigate it on your own- so good thing you weren’t.

Your tour guide sure was loud, though.

“It’s great that Nezu let someone in, but he wouldn’t tell us what it’s for!” The hero you recognized as Present Mic had been chatting animatedly the whole time, and you tried your best to keep up with his energy.

“That’s strange,” you say back to him, adjusting the grip on your briefcase. They checked it at the front gate- happy to see it was only a few business papers. “I don’t think what I’m talking to Nezu about is very secretive.”

Present Mic waves his hand in the air, making a ‘ppsh’ noise with his teeth. “Nezu likes to mess around with us teachers a lot. I’m not surprised! Oh, and here we are!” He spins rather suddenly to face you, presenting the large office doors to you.

You look at it curiously. “...Isn’t Nezu supposed to be a small animal?” How could he fit through the door…?

Mic laughs as if you had made some sort of joke. He opens the door for you, patting your back as you walk inside. “I’ll be here to escort you out when you’re done, good luck!” He whispers- well, his own way of whispering, which is still very loud, before thrusting you in the office and closing the door behind you.

You blink once to try and realize what just happened.

“Ah, ___!” Nezu greets you as you stand still in the rather large office, his little body looking comical behind his desk. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting with you!” Oh boy, here we go. You don’t really appreciate Mic thrusting you into this, literally, but you smooth out your clothes and walk toward the principal’s desk.

“I feel the same way, Nezu,” you smile at him as you shake his little paw across the desk. “I’m glad you’re willing to listen to what I have to say.” He gestures to the seat beside you and you gladly take it, making yourself comfortable.

“Of course. It’s been chaotic but I’m always willing to hear ideas for the school. You mentioned therapy?” The business has begun- but oddly enough, the animal pulls out a tea set and begins to brew.

“Simply put, yes. With all the events that have been happening at your school lately, I believe it’s due time for a therapist to be hired. You’re training heroes, and while it’s important that they’re physically ready for the world of heroics, I believe they should be mentally ready as well.” You take a cup from him, muttering a ‘thank you’ as you continue to give him your proposal. “Just this year, you had a kidnapping. I know you took care of it, but those sorts of things have a large impact on kids- they might be teenagers, but they aren’t fully developed. Then there’s just the thought of studying and working to be a hero- it’s stressful, and I believe every child should have a good outlet for when it gets to be too much.”

Taking a sip of the tea, you hum under your breath. It’s a wonderful citrus flavor.

Nezu smiles. “I looked into you- I hope you aren’t offended, it’s merely what we must do for letting strangers into the campus. You’re a therapist, correct?”

You nod. “I’m not offended, I figured as much. And yes, I am. I’ve been in the field for over 10 years, so I’d like to think I know what I’m talking about when it comes to mental health.”

“Of course! I don’t doubt you!” Nezu laughs- a squeaky little noise. “You’re right, the students deserve a good person to talk to about their struggles. The question is… are you sure you can be that person?”

So he had caught onto you. Yes, more than anything, you wanted to be the one to help these kids. It’s a bit ballsy to walk into an office and suggest they hire you, unprompted, but you believe it’s the right move to make. Nothing will get done if you don’t put the first foot in, after all.

“Yes,” you tell him, as determined as you can. “I would like to be the test driver in this. With how many students U.A holds, one therapist for so many kids is nearly impossible. I’d die of stress before they do,” you pull your briefcase up to your lap and open it, handing him a few papers. “These are the things I’ve planned if you were willing to go through with hiring me. I’d like to focus on the hero course first, a few sessions with each kid throughout a few months. I want to learn about these children, and from what I learn, I can fully deduce what sort of changes need to happen in U.A. Like if my work is even needed here, or what type of therapy should be offered or special programs.”

Nezu flicks through your papers with an impressed smile. “You’ve thought a lot about this,” he says, “you seem to care very deeply.”

“I’m passionate about helping others how I can,” you tell him honestly. “And frankly, if you don’t mind my honesty, U.A is long overdue for a school counselor. Every child deserves to have someone to confide in, plain and simple, Nezu.”

At your statement, he laughs. It’s not because he thinks you’re joking, but he knows you’re right. “I love your attitude!” He says. “And you’ve convinced me. We’ll start our hiring process right away, and you can show me more of your plans. I’m happy you came to me today.”

“Oh, what?” Your eyebrows stand up in shock. “Really? Wh… really?”

“Yes!” Nezu smiles. “I had already decided on hiring you before you came. But meeting you was a pleasure and convinced me more.” He hands out his small paw again and you slowly shake it.

“Welcome to U.A, ___.”

---

Getting home, you looked back at the meeting and for a second you think you were tricked. But you’re soon emailed several background check forms and sessions for drug testing- the works of getting hired at a very cautious school. So you deduce that it’s not a trick- but it’s very strange.

You’re grateful though, and you accomplish what you can right away such as the background check, quirk information and license, and sending in your history with therapy. Nezu told you that if you were quick, you could have your first day in just a week. It shocks you- a week? It’s so soon!

Maybe, you think, they’ve already been thinking about hiring a counselor for a while. It was long overdue, and now they’re in a rush to get you in and working. You suppose that with everything that’s been going on for the school, that’s fair.

You hope you can do this- the last thing you want is to let this opportunity slip through the cracks and let everyone down.

---

After a full week of filling out paperwork, various meetings, and a lot of movement speeches that you’ve given yourself to get through it, your first day at U.A comes, bright and early on a Monday morning. And, interestingly enough, your first big task of the day is getting dressed.

The students have uniforms, but the teachers all wear their hero costumes, and you’re not a hero. So what on earth do you wear? You glare at your closet for a long time before finally slipping on a simple button-up shirt tucked into some slacks. It’s the most professional-casual you can get, right?

Taking the train to U.A was a bit busy, but you were buzzing with first-day energy that you couldn’t even mind the pushing and shoving of people coming on and off the train. You’re sure that the longer you have to take the train, the more it will bother you, but today it seems like nothing can break through your hopeful exterior.

God, you hope this works. You hope the kids like you.

It feels funny to walk into U.A with no guards hounding you- but thanks to your I.D that you got just yesterday, you walk in without any problems. It makes you grin. Your first stop for the day is to find Eraserhead- you’re meeting with his class first and taking over homeroom for today. Tomorrow, you’ll meet with the other hero course.

When you walk into the teacher's lounge, nerves are tingling your senses. It feels like it really is the first day of school, but instead of a student, now you’re a teacher, sort of. The room looks empty, so you assume the teachers have all gone to their classes for the day. You wonder where Eraserhead is…?

It’s as you walk around the desks in a curious manner that a yellow bag on the floor catches your eye. Quite frankly, you do a double-take on it-- is someone sleeping in there?

“Hello?” You walk up to the bag. “Is that you, Eraserhead?”

You remember Nezu joking about something like this, but you didn’t take him seriously. As the sleeping bag rolls around, your eyes widen in surprise as you see that yes- this is Pro-Hero Eraserhead sleeping on the floor.

His tired, dry eyes look up at you. “You’re the therapist?” He asked, his voice deep and scratchy.

“...Yes. ____.” It’s all you can manage to say as you watch him slowly crawl out of his bag, picking it up and standing on his feet. All of a sudden, he’s looming over you with his height and it almost catches you off guard. “Thank you for working with me,” you shake yourself out of your thoughts and present your hand to him.

As he shakes it back, you notice that his hand basically engulfs yours. Woof.

“I’m glad you’ll be working with the students,” he says, and his honesty throws you for a loop as he begins to walk off, you following him from behind. “Do you mind telling me what you have in store for the day?”

“Right!” You try to walk a little faster so you can walk side-by-side with the man, his legs quite longer than yours. “I figured I'd like to introduce myself, let the kids get to know me. It’s hard to suddenly have a new face around, as well as being expected to talk about your problems with a stranger. So I just need to not be a stranger anymore.” You look up to Eraserhead and he silently nods. You figure that’s his way of telling you ‘good idea’?

“We’re here.” He stops in front of, again, another rather large door. They all seem to look like this. “Get ready.”

As the door opens, you’re immediately met with the sound of teenagers laughing and yelling. Eraserhead heads in first, thankfully, and you peek your head in to get a look of the students. You’ve seen a lot of them through the news, so some faces are familiar, while others aren’t.

“Class,” Eraserhead’s authoritative voice cuts through all the noise. The students are quick to sit in their seats, heads up and attentive for their teacher. He sighs, his shoulders sagging in a tired manner. “Today, ____ will be taking over the class,” you take that as your cue to enter the room, standing next to Eraserhead silently. “I’ll still be here, so don’t disrespect them. Listen to them, take what they have to say seriously.”

That seems to be the end of his little speech as he shuffles away in that same sleeping bag you found him in. You step up to the podium, and your nerves are back as you look at the sea of students. Oh boy.

“Hello, everyone,” you smile. “As Eraserhead mentioned, my name is ___. There’s no need for formalities with me, you can just call me by name. My job here at U.A is to be your school counselor.” You watch as several of their faces change and you laugh a little. “I know, it’s strange. I’m here today to ask you a few questions. My first question being, how many of you are comfortable talking with a stranger?”

None of their hands raise beside a rather sparkly boy with blonde hair.

“I appreciate your honesty!” You gesture for him to put his hand down and he does so. “Most of you aren’t going to come to me right away with struggles you may have, and I understand that. My job today is to have you all get to know me. We’ll be doing a few activities, and by the end of home-room, you’ll go back to your regular classes. Are there any questions?”

A hand shoots up right away, and you nod your head to the girl it’s attached to. She looks very attentive and scholarly- you have a feeling she might be a class president or something like that. “Why has the school decided to hire a counselor?”

“That’s a good question. What’s your name?” You ask.

“Yaoyorozu Momo.”

“Thank you for asking, Yaoyorozu. Truthfully, with all the events that’s been going on in your district, the school believes we should be more attentive to our students' mental wellbeing.” You feel like you’ve gone over this pitch thousands of times… “It’s important that you all have an outlet when you’re stressed or upset.”

Yaoyorozu seems satisfied with your answer as she nods, her hand going back in her lap. Another hand rises after that- not as confident as Yaoyorozu, but still there.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering- my, uh, name is Midoriya Izuku! I was wondering what we’d talk about in your office?” The boy has wonderful green hair that curls at the ends, freckles on his cheeks that make him look innocent and cute. He’s somewhat nervous, which intrigues you, but you move on to his question.

“Yes, in my office…”

The rest of the period goes like this. You eventually get a question out of almost every student, and they seem to be warming up to you already. You’ve learned most of their names- but you’ll probably need a few days until you remember them all. After the questions, you do a few games together that you thought up- things that typically would be done in middle school. You split up the classroom as you have them learn more about each other- things like ‘go to the left side if you’d rather lose your taste, go to the right if you’d lose your smell’. They were simple activities that the students seemed to mostly enjoy, and you participated in them as well.

At one moment, you asked a very specific question on purpose: how do you feel about your quirk? If you like it, you would go to the right side of the room. If you dislike it, you’d go to the left. If you weren’t sure how you felt, you’d sit in the middle. In the end, only you and boy with white and red hair stand in the middle as the rest of the class sits on the right.

“What is your quirk?” He asks you and you smile down at him. Everyone turns their attention toward you, clearly interested.

“My quirk is called Sensory. If I use it right, I can heighten my own or someone else’s senses such as their hearing or sight. But if I use it wrong, the person goes into sensory overload.” You explain it as simple as you can, and a pink hand raises in the air. You can’t quite remember her name…

“Why don’t you like your quirk?”

“Well, I don’t dislike it,” you quickly reassure the class, “but I have my reasons, as I’m sure Todoroki has his own as well?” You look down at him and he nods silently. “Anyway, I asked this question so that you all would get to know who I am a little better. Quirks are a great way to express yourself, but it’s important to remember that it isn’t the only way. It’s okay to not feel completely at home with your Quirk, but it’s important to understand it and accept it as a part of you.”

After the activity ends, the period is over and it’s time for you to go down to your office. Eraserhead offers to walk you there since you’re still new to the building and you gratefully take it. The two of you leave the classroom with a stern word from the teacher for his students to wait patiently for Present Mic to arrive ‘or else’. You have a feeling that there's no real threat behind his words, but it seems to work.

“So,” you fill the silence in the hallway, “do you think it went well, Eraserhead? You know them best.” You look up at him and the hero reaches up to run his fingers through his hair. He’s not quite looking at you, but you know he’s paying attention.

“You don’t have to call us by our hero names,” he huffs and his hands go back into his pockets.

“Oh! Well… To be honest, the forms Nezu gave me never mentioned any of the teacher’s names, so I don’t actually know…”

“Typical of him,” the man rolls his eyes, his lips tugging upward just a bit at the ends. “You can call me Aizawa,” all of a sudden you both come to a stop and you realize that you’re outside of your office on the first floor. “Mic is Yamada and Midnight is Kayama… I’m sure you know who Yagi is.” You nod. “You’ll learn the rest of their names along the way. The 1-B teacher is Kan, by the way.”

“Oh, good! Thank you, Aizawa,” you smile up at him. “And thank you for walking me back.”

“You’ll get used to it in a bit,” he sounds sure of himself, making you believe him. “And… you did fine with the kids. I can think of a few who might come over by the end of the week.”

His reassurance is honestly very touching, as you weren’t really sure of yourself.

“I hope I have at least a week, my office is kind of baren right now,” you laugh at yourself a little. “And thank you- it’s good to hear. I really hope this goes well, you know? I think I can really help them- I want to help them.”

Aizawa just stares down at you but you’re honestly getting used to his silence. You can already tell that he’s a man of few words, so you’re grateful that he’s talked to you as much as he has. You laugh again- you’re not sure why- before opening your door and waving goodbye to him. He leaves after that, and now it’s just you alone in your office.

You sigh as you look around the room. It’s got the essentials- two chairs, a couch, and a table in the middle. Then there’s a desk in the corner of the room, but other than that, it’s empty. You’ll definitely have to fill up the area to make it seem more welcoming- maybe you can bring some things over from your apartment.

All you know is that you’re determined. By the end of the week, you’re going to make this place feel like home.

393 notes · View notes

kenzieam · 4 years

Text

Linked - Chapter Two

Rating: M (smut, language, mature themes, potential major character death)

Genre: Drama/Angst

@captstefanbrandt @iammarylastar @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @notimetoblog @captain-ariel-barnes @lancefvckertvcker-blog @bitsandbobsandstuff @softlybarnes @lovelybbarnes @buckitybarnes @bucky-plums-barnes @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @citylights221 @shynara51 @diinofayce @casestudy-mw @jewels2876 @damnaged-princess @everythingisoverrated @allmyfanficfaves @wowspideyholland @smilexcaptainx@shirukitsune @chook007 @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

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Bucky and Levi find themselves connected through tragedy, can they let go of the past to find their future????

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I have not added to this since last September, shame on me!! Reread Chapter One here and let me know if I should continue with the story.

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WHAT ARE YOU DOING? The voice in Bucky’s head screamed. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAY NO! DANGER, DANGER! You don’t want to get involved with this! She doesn’t want you; YOUR WIFE KILLED HER HUSBAND... HER HUSBAND KILLED YOUR WIFE. WALK AWAY!

His mind was screaming loud enough that it wouldn’t surprise Bucky if Levi could actually hear his thoughts and he winced internally as he caught sight of her hand, clutching white-knuckle tight to her messenger bag.

Shit.

Despite his misgivings, Bucky nevertheless sat at the table the hostess indicated, pausing awkwardly as he debated holding out Levi’s chair for her. She sat quickly, however, as if expecting him to offer and not wanting it. King clamored into his own chair; reaching for a menu, asking for a chocolate milk and maintaining a rundown of the best parts of their game all at the same time and Bucky couldn’t hide a smile. He would rather rip his tongue out by the roots than admit it, especially in his present company, but King had become very precious to him in a short amount of time and he very much looked forwards to seeing the little guy. Maria had been totally against the subject of children, but Bucky had always wanted to be a dad. He needed to be careful though, he knew, for this was a minefield he wasn’t sure he would ever be either ready or able to walk through.

“What do you want, Coach? I want pizza!”

“King, keep it down.” Levi chastised gently.

“Sorry, mom.”

“It’s alright, just use your inside voice, okay?”

“Okay.”

Levi’s eyes flicked unwillingly towards him. “What do you want, Mr. Barnes?” She asked softly, sounding nervous.

Jesus, doll. You. “Call me Bucky, please. Pizza sounds good...?” Bucky offered shyly.

Pizza safely ordered (half-pepperoni, half-Hawaiian – gross, mom!), Bucky cleared his throat and asked tentatively, his heart hammering in fear. “How are you liking it here so far?”

Levi looked startled for a micro-second before answering. “It’s nice. I met Nat and Steve right away, so that made everything so much easier, I-” a loud chime interrupted her, and she flushed. “Sorry.”

Bucky watched as Levi reached down and rustled in her messenger bag, pulling out a tablet and tapping quickly at it before tucking it back inside.

“Sorry about that,” she repeated. “That was a client.”

“What do you do?” Bucky blurted, his nerves loosening his tongue. “Sorry, I-”

“No, it’s alright. I’m a graphic designer; but lately I’ve been designing a lot of book covers.”

“Like novels?”

“Yeah, just small time. First-time authors, independents, people that haven’t really made it big yet.”

“How does that work?”

Levi flushed, glancing down at her glass before answering, her fingers toyed with the condensation forming at the base, drawing small but enchanting patterns. “I’m compiling a catalogue of images and pictures of subjects; I snagged some professional editing software a while ago and can manipulate a stock image fairly realistically. Some are live models, others are no-license. The client emails me what they’re looking for, I make something up and send them a few choices; it’s fairly straightforward really.”

“Live models... like pictures of real guys, like Fabio?”

Levi giggled, a sound that arrowed straight into Bucky’s heart. “Not that famous, but a few wannabe models have let me take their picture, usually in exchange for a series of headshots. They get their portfolio; I get a few brooding pics.”

“Shirtless?” Bucky wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but the idea intrigued him.

“Yes, mostly. Why, are you volunteering?” Levi snapped her mouth shut in shock. What the fuck is gotten into you?

Now Bucky flushed, eyes flicking to Levi’s for a heartbeat; a shy grin pulling at his mouth and the sight arrowed straight into Levi’s heart. “Think I’d make it?”

Fuck, yeah. But I don’t want to share. "I think you’d do. Romance readers love a dark and handsome mystery.”

“You think I’m handsome?” Bucky teased, loving the way Levi’s face went so adorably red, her amethyst eyes widening as she realized her slip.

Finally, the universe took pity; Levi was saved from answering by the arrival of their pizza and King’s triumphant shout.

The next few minutes were spent eating, King devouring his slice with typical 5-year-old gusto.

“How do you like coaching so far?” Levi asked, wiping tomato sauce from her bottom lip, something Bucky suddenly and desperately wanted to do with his tongue.

Bucky struggled to focus on her question and not her plump lips and what they would look like wrapped around his cock.

What the fuck, dude???

“A lot actually. I didn’t expect to, honestly; I was just going to help Steve out a bit. I played soccer in high school and a bit for my university team, so I guess he figured I knew what I was doing.”

“You played for your university? You must have been good.”

Bucky flushed. “Yeah,” he hedged, unsure whether he should mention that he had already been drafted in the pros. “But I busted up my knee pretty bad and decided to get out.”

“That must have sucked.” Lev offered quietly, looking surprisingly upset at the news.

Bucky nodded, clearing his throat. “I lucked out with a good surgeon. I signed up for the military and, after a couple of tours I got out and into security. Mostly I just consult now.”

“Is that how you met Steve?”

Bucky couldn’t stop a wide smile. “Yeah, he wanted me to review and streamline the security system for his business.” He hesitated before adding, “I was always pretty mobile with that anyways, consulting all over the country, sometimes the world. I didn’t need to stay in one place, so... it made it easier when I decided to move… after-”. He broke off, Levi would know exactly what he meant without him spelling it out.

“Yes.” Came her quiet reply. “I understand... About that, did you ever-”

“No.” Bucky kept his voice gentle even as his heart raced. “Not now, please.”

Levi nodded shyly, her cheeks going pink. King had fallen silent, looking between the two adults, puzzled.

“What’s going on?” He asked, a pizza slice forgotten in his hand.

Levi sent Bucky a beseeching look. She’d not told King who Bucky was. At most, he knew that his coach’s wife had died, but he didn’t know that she’d taken his father with her.

“Nothing, buddy.” Bucky grinned in King’s direction, but Levi could see the faint tightening at the corners of his eyes. Fortunately, King, who was uncannily observant, even for a child, took Bucky’s lie at face value and happily tucked back into his pizza.

‘Sorry,’ Levi mouthed, and Bucky shook his head gently, returning quietly to his pizza.

Lev refused to let Bucky pay for full bill, insisting on half and completely crushing any thoughts that this had been anything but an entirely platonic meal.

But, whether by luck or serendipity, they found themselves again at May’s after the next game, sharing a table due to King’s enthusiastic ‘Coach! Sit with us!’ that he’d bellowed across the room.

The third time was planned, and Levi felt herself almost ashamed at how much she began to look forward to aftergame pizza with Coach Barnes.

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

King ran ahead, hollering at the top of his lungs to his teammates, who shouted and yelled back. Levi followed behind, trudging really, she’d not gotten much sleep last night, and stumbled, biting back a surprised squawk, when a soccer ball connected suddenly with her temple. She staggered, clutching at her head but the ball hadn’t been flying with too much force and it had startled her more than anything else.

“Hey!” Bucky appeared like magic, the offending ball in his hands. He touched her shoulder, peering into her face with concern. “You okay?”

Lev nodded, not wanting to make a scene, she probably could have avoided being hit if she’d been more cognizant of the field, but Bucky wasn’t having it.

“Fucking Seymour. I’ll handle this.” He marched over to the nearby group of players and spoke in low, furious tones to them, starting in on their coach, obviously the maligned Seymour, when he bumbled over, trying to cover up the fact that he’d been too busy playing Candy Crush on his phone to monitor his players.

Lev continued walking, almost scurrying, picking up speed to avoid any other flying missiles and sat gratefully on her usual spot at the bleachers. Her eyes drifted to find Bucky,he was still speaking to the other coach and it was starting to look heated, but then Bucky took a visible deep breath and stepped back, obviously pulling himself away before things got out of hand. His eyes searched for her and he exhaled noticeably once he found her, moving unerringly to her side, concern evident on his handsome face.

“You okay?” He murmured, reaching up to brush where the ball had connected. His touch left goosebumps in its wake and Lev hissed at the contact, at the tingle of energy that frizzled between his fingertips and her skin. He seemed to feel it too, eyes widening slightly and pulled his hand away, not fully dropping it, gaze searching hers. “Lev?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry, I should have been paying attention-” Levi ducked her head.

“Not your fault.” He retorted curtly. “Wayne Seymour needs to be watching his players better.” He visibly exhaled out his mounting irritation and leaned down to meet her eyes again. His brows drew together in question and he looked so startingly puppy-dog at that moment that Lev forgot how to breathe.

“James, I’m fine.”

His brows jumped slightly, nobody called him by his given name, he always corrected them and told them to call him Bucky, but hearing Lev say it made something inside him sit up and pay attention. Reluctantly, he drew away; he had to start coaching but right now he wanted nothing more than to stay beside her.

His hand, drifting without official orders, rested lightly on her knee for a beat before he pulled it away, startled by his actions. It wouldn’t do for the coach to be seen touching one of the player’s moms, but his hand suddenly ached as it was drawn away, tingling to touch her again.

“Pizza tonight?” He asked, stumbling over his words.

Lev studied him for a beat, her cheeks going adorably red. “We’ll see you there.” She replied softly.

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

“Coach, can you come to my party?!” King asked excitedly, bouncing in his chair like it was a small trampoline.

Bucky took the empty chair at the table, mouthing a ‘Hey’ to Lev before focusing on King. “What’s that, Little Man?” He’d heard King babbling something about this during drills earlier, but he’d still been so caught up in Levi being hit that he hadn’t paid much attention.

“My birthday!”

Lev hushed King with a low shushing sound. “His sixth birthday, I’m planning a small get-together this weekend; King’s teammates, some school friends and their parents. You’re certainly invited, can you make it?”

“Of course.” He grinned down at King. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Yay!!”

“Kingston Sebastian Riel!” Levi hissed. “Tone it down.”

“Sebastian?”

“His father and I couldn’t agree. Brock wanted Kingston, I wanted Sebastian. We ‘compromised’.” She made air quotes with her fingers.

“I love that name.” Bucky smiled. That had been his name, whenever he’d indulged in picturing having children with Maria, naming his son ‘Sebastian Barnes’.

“I don’t need to use it very often; King usually knows how to behave in restaurants.” Lev replied, eyeing her son.

“Sorry, mom. Sorry, Coach.”

Lev’s serious demeanor broke and she ruffled his hair. “Inside voice, remember. I know you’re excited but we’re not the only people here, right?”

“Yes, mom.”

Bucky gazed at Lev while pretending to peruse the menu. She wasn’t like some of the other mothers out there, that let their kids get away with murder, ignored the little darlings as they ran around screaming and disturbing people, getting in screaming matches with bystanders that told her to rein in her offspring. She loved her son, that was obvious, and she loved him enough to actually parent him. That distinction mattered to Bucky, something that he probably would have argued with Maria about, had she ever agreed to having children. She had been raised to believe herself always correct, her parents always backing her, no matter if she was right or wrong in any situation, and it had chafed Bucky at times; something he found he could reflect back on now, with time, although with no less diminished guilt at remembering your dead spouse as anything but an absolute water-walking saint.

“Mom, I have to go to the bathroom.” King announced. When Lev moved to stand, he continued. “I can go myself.”

Lev looked torn, then nodded slowly. “Wash your hands.”

King nodded once then disappeared.

“What can I bring?” Bucky asked.

“Sorry, what?” Lev pulled her attention away from the direction King had gone, focusing back on Bucky.

“What can I bring to King’s party?”

“Oh,” Lev cleared her throat, thinking for a moment. “Beer? If you want to drink any, I don’t have a lot hanging around and… I’m not sure how many are coming, but maybe a chair too. The backyard is pretty big and there should be room, but you never know.”

“Any food?”

“No, thank you. I’ve got it.” Lev’s lips curled in a small smile and Bucky wasn’t surprised to feel his heart skip suddenly in his chest. This had been happening more and more around her and he was losing the strength to fight it.

“What does the Little Man want?”

“You don’t need-”

“I want to.”

Lev chewed her bottom lip before answering. “He talks a lot about some ‘Ronaldo’ guy?”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve heard him during practices. Cristiano Ronaldo, he’s a famous Portuguese soccer player. Think he’d like a jersey?”

“He’d probably never take it off. But James, seriously-”

Bucky leaned forwards suddenly, resting his hand onto of Levi’s and startling her silent. “Please. I’d like to.” A little awkwardly, he pulled his hand back, straightening slowly in his chair, cheeks heating.

“Do you have any children, James?” She asked, abruptly but not unkindly.

“No.”

“Did you ever want any?”

Bucky traced the edge of his glass, staring hard at the liquid inside. This seemed both an insanely private question to ask, but also one he didn’t mind answering, at least for her. “Yes. Maria-”

“I’m back!” King announced, as if he’d trekked to Papua New Guinea and was just now arriving home, footsore and weary from outrunning cannibals.

“Did you wash your hands?”

“Yes, mom.”

A part of Bucky was insanely grateful when the pizza arrived moments later, and he was saved from further discussion of children he’d wanted but never had the chance to have.

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

Lev opened the door, a slight look of panic on her face and smiled widely when she saw who it was.

“Bucky, hey! I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

He’d thought about it; for some reason, after their last pizza ‘date’, he’d spiraled down into a dark shame, one he’d not felt since those early months immediately after Maria’s death. It must have been because of Lev’s question, harmless as it was for someone you could consider a friend, someone you shared dinner with on the semi-regular now, to ask; but it had triggered something inside him, a buried guilt, a hidden tangle of emotions he’d been too afraid to grab and study up close, but King meant too much to him to bail and, if he was being honest with himself, Levi did too.

“Sorry I’m late-”

“No, it’s fine! I’m just a little-… I haven’t had a get-together like this since before…” She broke off, cheeks going pink and Bucky knew immediately what she meant, how she felt.

“Here, let me take that-” Bucky reached for the bags of chips grasped tightly in her fingers but she pulled away.

“No, thank you, it’s fine. You’ve got your hands full too.” She said, jerking her chin at the six-pack of beer and folded lawn-chair taking up most of his hands. She paused for a moment and took a deep breath, gifting Bucky with a genuine smile. “Thank you for coming, I’m glad you’re here; and King’s going to go crazy.”

Their eyes met and held for a heartbeat and something warm flashed in Lev’s gaze, something that matched the tentative eagerness burning low in Bucky’s chest.

“C’mon in.” Levi shook herself slightly, as if breaking out of a trance and smiled a bit nervously. “I’ll be right out, just head on through the kitchen and out the back door. Everyone’s out there, you’ll see Steve and Nat right away.”

“Okay, thanks.” Bucky tried not to look as Levi sashayed in front of him, unaware of how the natural sway of her hips made adult thoughts flood his mind. Maria had not had curves like this, she’d been almost fanatical about calorie counting and restriction, resulting in a toned but unwelcomely bony body under Bucky’s caresses, but Lev was curvy, deliciously so, in all the right places. He didn’t mean to compare, but Maria had lamented to him many times about all the squats and lunges she did and how she still never achieved an ass even close to what Lev seemed to have naturally. His hands ached to touch her soft skin, trace her delicate lines and supple curves, lose himself in her feminine body.

A chorus of greetings hit him as he stepped outside and Steve launched himself at him, tearing Bucky from his musing as he prepared to collide against a brick wall, reaching Bucky in about two bounds; half-dragging him towards where he and Nat were seated, managing to yank the beer from his hands, open Bucky’s chair, push him to sit in it and slap him on the shoulder all at the same time.

A lot of the parents and kids Bucky realized he knew, mostly from soccer, and Nat and Steve introduced him to the rest. Most of the kids were screaming like banshees in a large bouncy castle set up in the corner of the yard, while others ran around holding all sorts of toy, shrieking at each other at the top of their little lungs.

Two tousled heads of hair, one chocolate brown, the other blond suddenly appeared at Bucky’s side, waving foam swords and screeching his name. It took Bucky a moment to recognize Steve’s boy, Hunter, and King, and then King was scrambling into his lap like a puppy, narrowly missing his balls.

“Coach! COACH!” He bellowed, as if Bucky were miles away across a shadowy moor and they were reduced to using only their voices for communication.

“Hey, Little Man.” Bucky leaned back from the dangerously waving weapon, thighs tensed to protect his jewels. He caught Steve’s smirk at his situation but then Hunter decided to do the same, leaping into Steve’s lap with the same reckless enthusiasm as King and Steve was suddenly too preoccupied trying to protect his own nads from destruction.

“You came to my party!”

“Yeah, buddy. I did.”

Grubby hands unexpectedly wrapped around his neck and Bucky suddenly didn’t care about anything else. Wrapping his arms around King, he basked in the little boy’s enthusiasm, the fondness for this child he’d held in his chest sharpening into something far more profound and intense.

When King finally scrambled back down and bounded away to rejoin his gang of rabble-rousers; Steve, who’d managed to detach his own son and send him on his criminal way as well, slapped his shoulder and grinned widely at him, making Bucky’s cheeks go pink.

Other parents eyed him with small smiles as well, making Bucky clear his throat self-consciously, and then Lev was back, falling into the empty chair beside Bucky with a laugh and a groan and his attention was immediately diverted, pulse beating just a little bit harder as he caught a hint of her scent; reminding him of sunshine and meadows of beautiful wildflowers.

Lev seemed more relaxed and a small, fleeting part of Bucky hoped it was because of him, but he pushed the thought away quickly. He couldn’t feed this wolf anymore; he couldn’t keep up with this idea that there was something between him and Lev. They were joined by tragedy, united by death and that was as far as it should go.

But if that was the way it was supposed to be, why was he so drawn to her? To her son? Why had he found his thoughts turning more and more to them, rushing into his mind first thing in the morning, the last scene to play in front of his eyes before he closed them at night?

Why, if this wasn’t ever supposed to be his, did he want it so badly?

Despite his turmoiled mind, there was enough going on in the backyard for him to push it aside, at least pretend it wasn’t gnawing insidiously at his brain and Bucky was surprised when he started to enjoy himself. He had avoided large crowds, big gatherings, since Maria’s death and had never truly been a social butterfly of his wife’s caliber anyway but, before he realized it, a few hours had passed and even the kids were starting to wind down.

King had looked adorable, pink-cheeked and grinning, as he sat in front of his cake, blowing out the candles with not too much spit thankfully, when his guests had finished singing. Some friend of Nat and Lev’s had made it, and had tasted surprisingly good, although the almost neon icing had taken more than a few hard sucks to completely pull the stain from your fingers.

Each present had been worth a cacophony of yells from both the birthday boy and his guests, but it had been the last one, Bucky’s gift that seemed to have the showstopper. When King had opened the gift bag and pulled out the pint-sized Ronaldo jersey, his eyes had gone huge and, when Lev had leaned over, murmuring to him who it was from, the little boy’s eyes had searched the crowd for Bucky and he’d scrambled from his chair to launch himself at him, crashing into his arms with a howl of pure excited glee.

“Thank you!” As fast as he’d landed in Bucky’s lap, King had again scrambled away, tearing off his shirt to yank on the jersey before snatching the new soccer ball from Uncle Steve and Aunty Nat and scampering away, leading a whole posse of screaming kids behind him

“Good job, man.” Steve murmured, leaning over to Bucky’s ear.

King had then bounded up to him, begging him and Uncle Steve to come play soccer with him and Hunter, and that had taken up Bucky’s attention until Lev called a game over and Bucky had finally looked around, realizing that almost everyone was gone.

“Mom. MOM?!” Hunter bellowed, running up to Nat. “Can King stay over? PLEASE?” He grabbed onto Nat’s shirt and tilted his head up, sending her an angelic look that left no doubt as to who his father was. Steve had used that same pleading puppy-dog look on Bucky last weekend when he’d begged him to help move an obnoxiously heavy fridge from his garage to the dump.

Nat glanced up at Lev, brow raised, and Lev smiled, shrugging. “If you think you can handle both little monsters tonight, go ahead.”

“Get your stuff, buddy.” Nat grinned.

“YAY!!” Both boys screamed, dashing into the house, barely avoiding a crash as they both tried to fit through the doorway into the house at the same time.

Bucky hovered, knowing he should be leaving but not able to muster the energy. He wanted to stay, even a bit longer and so far no one had zeroed in on him and demanded to know what he was still doing here. He watched with a fond smile as the boys reappeared, carrying an assortment of varied weapons and miscellany and shooting at each other with small Nerf guns.

“Did you pack any clothes?” Lev asked dryly, snagging King by the back of his shirt as he scampered by. He was still wearing the Ronaldo jersey.

“Clothes?” King asked, confused, peering up at his mother as if she’d suddenly started speaking a new language and Lev smirked. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

“Have fun today?” Nat asked Bucky innocently, stepping over to lean her back against Steve’s chest, who immediately wrapped his arms around her and dropped his chin to rest on the top of her head as he too awaited Bucky’s answer, a cat that got the canary grin on his big stupid face.

“Yeah, didn’t expect it to be so…”

“Insane?” Steve suggested.

“Loud.” Bucky finished. “I should know better, coaching half of them but still…”

“You’ll get used to it.” Nat replied, a knowing gleam in her eyes that made Bucky frown in confusion at her. Steve mumbled something in her ear, brow furrowed, and she just giggled, pressing a kiss to his chin and whispering back.

Lev reappeared, carrying a small backpack shaped like a Stegosaurus and called King to her. He skipped up, becoming serious when Lev dropped to one knee and gripped his upper arms gently, whispering earnestly and probably telling him to behave tonight. After a moment, she pressed a kiss to his forehead and the boy made a show of squirming away and wiping at his face, but the delighted grin on his face showed his true feelings.

A few minutes later, both yelling boys had been herded into the SUV and Bucky found himself standing alone beside Lev, waving as Steve and Nat backed out of the driveway and drove off with a honk.

“I should go.” Bucky mumbled, wanting to do anything but. He’d been spared any comments by Steve and Nat as they’d bundled the boys into the vehicle, but that didn’t mean he’d be safe later from any ‘observations’ they’d make of how he’d stayed later than them.

“NO,” Lev’s cheeks went pink “I mean…. stay for a bit, please. Today was so crazy we didn’t get any real chance to talk-” She trailed off uncertainly, her cheeks full on red now, matching the heat in Bucky’s face.

Twist my rubber arm, doll.

“Sure, okay.” He exhaled a little shakily, timidly, lips curving into a smile at Lev’s delighted grin.

“Go grab a seat, I’ll be right back.”

Bucky nodded, venturing into the backyard and sitting on the high-backed bench closest to the freestanding patio heater. The warm glow was comforting against the beginnings of twilight chill, while a firepit squatted nearby, ready to be lit as well.

Levi returned a few minutes later, carrying two bottles of beer and a blanket under one arm; then, after the briefest pause to peruse seating, plunked down on the same bench with Bucky and handed him a bottle.

“Here, try this.” She grinned. “An old friend of mine got me started on these oatmeal stouts; I didn’t have enough to go around.” She pulled the blanket between them. “Cold?”

Bucky gestured with his chin to the heater. “Nah, I’m good.”

Lev smiled, turning to face him and pulling her feet up to sit cross-legged. She squirmed for a moment to adjust the cushion at her back then opened the blanket to lay over her lap and settled back with a sigh.

“Thank you for staying.” She said quietly. “It’s nice to just sit down for a few minutes.”

“No problem.” Bucky mumbled, hiding his please grin behind another swallow. “This is good.” He nodded to the sweating bottle in his hand.

“I know, right?” Lev smiled, then fell silent, regarding him quietly long enough that Bucky felt the urge to start squirming in discomfort. “How are you doing?” She asked gently and Bucky knew immediately what she was referring to.

“Getting better.” He replied, his voice low. “Having work and the team to coach definitely helps. You?”

Lev nodded, then swallowed, looking suddenly uncomfortable herself. She glanced up at Bucky from under long lashes, looking surprisingly anxious. “I uh…” she cleared her throat. “I shouldn’t let you think the wrong thing about me and Brock, we…” she broke off, picking anxiously at a cuticle.

Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion as he waited quietly.

“We weren’t like you and Maria, we weren’t… forever.” she finally continued, looking ashamed. “I was… I had divorce papers drawn up, I was ready to give them to Brock, but then he…”

Bucky stared for a moment, stunned. A thousand thoughts suddenly racing through his head. A small, secret little part of him rejoiced; Levi had been ready to leave her husband, akin to available, before his death. She’d already been looking to move on.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, knowing his words were totally inadequate and also, not truthful.

“No, it’s fine. We weren’t working out. I… I was young and stupid and thought the college boy I fell in love with would change, grow up with me. He wasn’t a bad guy, we just…. I was hopeful and naïve, and I forgave a lot.”

Anger burned low in Bucky’s chest; what had Levi been forced to ‘forgive’?

“It’s not stupid,” he began and, at Lev’s confused brow lift, continued. “Hoping someone will grow up, most people do.”

“I’m happy he’s gone.” She whispered in a rush then clapped her hand over her mouth, mortified. “I don’t mean it like that,” her eyes were huge. “I just…. It’s extreme yes, but… I don’t have to deal with him anymore, try and work with him over custody of King or anything.”

Bucky nodded, reaching over to squeeze her knee. “I understand, it’s alright.”

Lev wiped at her cheeks. “I mean, he would have fought me on everything, just to be a dick.” Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, but thankfully Bucky’s words seemed to have mollified her guilt. He never would believe she’d truly meant she was happy Brock was dead, she wasn’t that type of person, even if a small, secret part of Bucky was.

“How’s King doing, if I can ask that?”

Lev nodded. “No, it’s fine, you can ask. He’s… surprisingly good, actually. Brock was never really in his face anyway, never really a hands-on dad, so there wasn’t much to miss.”

“He didn’t help out?”

Levi shook her head, her tears finally stopping. “No. Not when King was a baby waking up all night hungry, or teething, never. He… I don’t know, he looked at King like an accessory or something. An object to compare to his friend’s kids. He didn’t like that King couldn’t walk as fast as his friend’s boy, or that he wasn’t using full sentences as soon as his boss’ daughter. Never mind that they weren’t the same age, King was never good enough for him, he was always pushing him to do more and… sooner rather than later it would have started to mess with his head, make him think there was something wrong with him when there’s not.”

Rage burned low in Bucky’s chest, a whole new facet of hatred for Rumslow. What kind of man treated his wife and kid that way? King was an incredible little boy, smart and articulate, kind and funny. Bucky knew he’d be proud to call King his own.

“I feel so guilty.” Levi whispered, the tears returning. She dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t regret having King at all, and I will always be grateful to Brock for giving me him, but…. What was I thinking? Bringing a child into that type of environment?” She shuddered. “Right up until King was born I hoped my pregnancy would trigger something in him, some switch would flip and he’d stop being such a frat boy, start paying attention to me and my wants, and the baby he’d helped make. But he didn’t, he wouldn’t.” Her voice broke and Bucky stopped thinking about what was right and proper in this situation.

Setting down his beer he scooted towards her, drawing Levi into his arms. She clung to him with surprising desperation, burying her face in his throat and, if the timing weren’t so gloomy, he probably would have groaned at the sensation, at the shiver of delight that shot up his spine.

“Hey,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her hair and closing his eyes, indulging in a heartbeat’s length of adoring the feel of her so close to him. “Hey, stop thinking that. You’re not a bad person, you’re not a bad mom; all that shit, that’s on him; it’s not your fault. He sounds like a total asshole, who wouldn’t love King? He’s such a special little man. Shit, I would’ve-” he broke off, suddenly dangerously close to unsteady ground, that minefield he’d worried about stepping through.

Lev went still in his arms and he could feel her desire to ask him to elaborate, to explain what he’d been about to say.

Shit, I would’ve treated you and King like the treasures you are, I never would have taken you for granted that way.

Levi raised her head; eyes glittering with tears and searched his face. Bucky gazed back down at her, dangerously close to letting everything he was fighting so hard not to feel flood his eyes. Her eyes dropped to his lips for a heartbeat, then back up to his eyes and time stood still.

Fighting himself every inch of the way, Bucky slowly lowered his head, searching Lev’s gaze for permission, some hint that she either wanted this or suddenly was coming to her senses and wanted to stop; but she never wavered and, as their lips touched in a sweet and tentative way, her lids fluttered shut in relief and Bucky let his own fall closed, warmth flooding his body.

Desire raged hot and hard in Bucky, demanding more but he kept the kiss light and gentle, a shy exploration of each other’s mouths, the taste of stout still on their tongues as he slicked his along her bottom lip then plunged gently inside as she parted her mouth for him, a sweet moan rising in her throat.

Pulling back, easily one of the most difficult things Bucky had ever done, he rested his forehead to hers, fighting to calm his breathing, to control his body from all but attacking her.

Lev panted with him, fingers curling against his shirt then one tentative hand reached up to cup his face, rasping against the stubble and he leaned into her touch, letting out a low groan.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, each word burning like acid. “I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s okay.” She breathed back.

“I… we need to-” He couldn’t force the words and so he acted instead, pushing gently away from Levi and returning to his end of the bench. He shivered at the loss of her body, her heat, against him and Lev watched him for a moment, multiple emotions warring in her eyes.

Part of Bucky hoped she stayed over there, while a bigger part wanted her to close the distance again.

Finally, she relaxed her shoulders and managed a shy smile, then unfolded the blanket to its full size and offered him one side. Bucky accepted, draping the cover over his shoulders, allowing himself this substitution. They shouldn’t be crawling all over each other, kissing, but they could share this blanket, that was bashfully intimate as well and far more the speed they should be going if they did plan on seeing where this went.

Levi settled back against the bench, turning to face forwards. There was space between them now, so much that it would difficult to lean over and nudge the other with their shoulder, but close enough that, if one dared, they could hold hands under the blanket.

For a time they were silent, gazing at the emerging stars, or the muted red glow of the patio heater, listening to the sporadic sounds of life around them, the occasional vehicle, owl hoot or dog bark but then Lev exhaled slowly and spoke, her voice hesitant.

“We were interrupted at dinner, but I asked if you ever wanted children. I don’t want to pry, but-”

“No, its fine.” Lev had bared enough of her wounds tonight, it was time for him to disclose a scar or two. “I did… I do. But Maria wasn’t interested… ever. It wasn’t a big deal when we got together but… as time passed, seeing friends have babies and stuff, I started to think about it more and more. I…” He trailed off, studying his hands knotted together, fingers twisting. “I kept putting it off, really talking about it with her though. It was obvious what she felt, she’d never babysat as a teenager, she never offered to hold any of our friend’s babies, even if I was always asking, just to feel that little bundle, that tiny weight in my arms; I’d test the waters, and hint and stuff, but she would always laugh and be like ‘no way’ and I just… let it go until there was no more time.”

“She never would have?”

Bucky considered a moment. “No, I don’t think so. One of the things I always loved about Maria was her conviction, even if it was against me. No meant no to her, every time.”

Levi gazed at Bucky silently, but he kept his gaze down. He wasn’t ready to show her, she wasn’t ready to see, the emotions crashing through his eyes right now. Finally, he found the strength to say what had been nibbling at the corners of his mind for some time now, a hard truth that had come with hindsight and miserable evaluation during long, sleepless nights, something he’d never even voiced out loud before, not ever really examined up close, just knew deep down, no matter how hard it was to acknowledge verbally.

“I think…. It would have been the issue that pushed us apart eventually… if she hadn’t died.”

He heard her breath catch but was too scared to look over and squeezed his eyes shut, praying that Lev didn’t show kindness right now, some form of acceptance for his stark confession, maybe reach over to touch him, or whisper sweet words, because he was too raw, too open right now for it to do anything but agonize.

“I’m sorry.” She finally murmured, barely audible but he heard her in the silence, felt the pain all the same.

Me too.

#au bucky #au bucky barnes #au bucky barnes fanfic #au bucky barnes fanfiction #au father bucky #au bucky drama #au bucky romance #bucky and levi #bucky and lev #bucky dad #bucky family

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bwayfan25 · 4 years

Text

Out of Retirement

(Okay... One more little AU tidbit because imagining the wives together is the only thing keeping me sane.)

“It still fits,” Kerry started proudly as she adjusted her white coat over her scrubs. “I’ll be honest. I was a bit worried.”

“That’s great,” Susan replied as she pulled her own coat on. “Is your medical license still good?”

“I told you that it was,” Kerry answered with a huff. “I’ve kept the license up-to-date and I’ve done more than the minimum required number of CME.”

“Yeah, but it’s still been a while.”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

“It’s been almost six years. I’ve got residents who were accepted to, attended, and graduated from medical school since you last worked in a hospital.” Susan rolled her eyes. “Face it, Kerry. You’re out of practice.”

“I am not,” Kerry snapped. “I might not work in an ER anymore, but I still read the Annals every month, I attend ACEP conferences, and I still volunteer weekly-“

“At a free clinic,” Susan said, cutting her off. “Which is wonderful, dear, but not the same as working in an emergency department.

“So, for the first couple weeks, I’m assigning you to a resident. You’ll follow them around as you get reaclimated, but you’re relegated to suturing and triage.”

“I’ll be fine, Susan,” Kerry said with a small huff. “I may be rusty for the first couple days, maybe a week, but then I’ll be back. I guarantee it.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, we’ll see about that.”

Having been exposed to patients regularly for the last several weeks, Susan did not kiss Kerry on the cheek as she so wanted to. Instead, she just raised an eyebrow and then winked.

She then inhaled deeply a few times and stretched her arms and back before starting for the door to the locker room.

But just as Kerry made to follow her, Susan paused and turned back, a wicked smirk on her face.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing I should tell you.”

Kerry’s brow rose in question.

“Yes?”

“You must run all procedures by me.”

Kerry frowned in confusion, which only served to made Susan’s smirk grow. But when she figured out to what Susan was referencing, Kerry let out a sigh.

“That happened twenty-five years so. And I’m pretty sure I apologized for it.”

Susan cocked her head, her brow furrowing in thought. Then, she shook her head.

“Alright, fine. Well, I apologize for it now. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, dear. But I’m actually not kidding,” Susan said with a smile. “You’re technically a volunteer, so you don’t work for us and you really do have to get any procedures approved by an employee.”

Susan pulled herself up to full height and turned her nose up, assuming her best haughty expression.

“And just because there’s a global pandemic going on doesn’t mean we shouldn’t think about ER expenditure.”

At Susan’s (scarily accurate) impression of herself, Kerry’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re right,” she acknowledged (though her tone was more than a little bitter). “Anything else?”

Susan considered the question for a moment.

“Well, I’ll tell you the same thing that I tell the med students: Leave your phone on your locker. If I see you with it out on the floor, I will take it from you and I cannot guarantee when or if I will give it back.

“Also, for the sake of professionalism, please refer to me as Dr. Lewis whenever we’re working together.” Susan dropped her voice. “And maybe don’t mention our relationship if you can. If I give you something fun, I don’t want the others to think I’m playing favorites.”

Kerry fixed her with a look of exasperation.

“Susan, you’ve worked here for fifteen years. Your colleagues know who I am.”

“Let me have this.”

Kerry put her hands on her hips and let out another sigh.

“Did you ask me to help just so you could do this to me?” Kerry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I asked you to help because there’s a global pandemic going on,” Susan said sincerely. But then, she smiled and added, “But it’s definitely a perk.”

Kerry couldn’t help but smile the slightest bit at the glee in Susan’s eyes and the fact that they were actually together (well, together but six feet apart) for the first time in weeks.

“Alright, Dr. Lewis,” Kerry said in a conceding tone. “Anything else I should know?”

“The only other thing I can think of is to be good to your Attending and she’ll be good to you.” Susan winked, but then paused and gave a shrug. “You know. Whenever this is over.”

#nbc er #susan lewis #kerry weaver #my fanfic #my writing

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trying-write-fanfics · 4 years

Text

OverhaulXReader part 7

A week went by without hearing from her. He didn’t get her number, and he didn’t give her his. They knew where they both lived, and worked, but there was no big reach from either of them. Chrono came in with more paperwork, and had a topic of his own he wanted to bring up. They did this at the childhood home. It just felt fitting.

“It’s come to my attention you left with a girl at the wedding.” he mentioned. “How did that go?”

“Nothing happened.” he was quick to say. He then thought that meant he said she was never coming back, but that’s not what he meant. “She’s an old friend.”

“I’m an old friend and I’ve never seen her.”

“She went to elementary school with me. She left after a certain incident. We’ve kept in contact,”he briefly explained.

“Where did she come back from?” Chrono asked.

“I’ve said too much.” He was quick to say.

“Alright. Should I be expecting to see her soon?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

Chrono slyly smiled and then walked out.

To keep his mind off things, Kai worked late during the weekend. He worked alone in the office, while Chrono tended to some other things around the compound. All his ideas amount to nothing. His research led to nowhere.

“Now is not a good time.” he heard Chrono say outside his office. “How did you find this place?”

Then a banging on his office door was soon met.

“Mr. Chisaki!” he heard Y/n drunkenly sing.

“Back up!”

Y/n laughed, she was causing mischief. Kai sighed, and opened up the door. It surprised Chrono that Kai opened his own door. Chrono was holding Y/n back. She was dressed more professionally this time. Her hair was up and she wore a wrap dress. She was holding a sealed bottle of wine.

“I brought you a house warming present!” she said like she was not restrained.

“You can let her go, Chrono.”

“Are you not worried she knew where to find this place?” Chrono asked.

“No,” he replied.

“You still-”

“It's fine.” he was more stern.

Chrono released the drunk girl who did not seem to understand the severity of the situation.

“What are you doing here?” Kai asked the girl.

“Work threw me a welcome party, and gave me a free bottle to take home. I figured it's best shared with a friend, or at least give to a friend.” she explained shaking the bottle.

“Thank you.” He took the bottle to make sure she wouldn't drop it.“I’m a bit busy tonight.”

“Alright, I’ll go home, I just wanted to check on you.” She told him to turn around.

“Stay the night, you’re too drunk, again.” he said.

“You’re not worried if I have work?” she asked.

“Even if you do, you’ll be too hungover.” He told her.

“I guess I can stay. They told me to take a sick day anyway.” she told him.

“Was this planned?” he asked her.

“No, I thought you would send me home. It's not like I have clothes or anything here.”

“I’ll help you get situated soon, just wait on the couch.” he pointed to the on in his office.

She did as he said. He dove into more research that kept leading him nowhere. He would glance over at the girl. She tried keeping her eyes open but her eyelids were heavy. She kept opening them, but wasn’t strong enough to keep them open. She was watching him with a peaceful expression. She just enjoyed being in his presence. He knew he hit a wall.

“You should shower.” he said getting up.

“Calling me stinky?” she yawned

“Come on.”

She slowly got up. She followed him to his room where he found her some pajamas that would be too big for her. He guided her to the bathroom. She already knew how to use the plumbing. He waited outside for her to finish. Once she got out, her hair was in a towel and she was in his clothes.

“What should I do about my clothes?” she asked.

“I’ll have them cleaned,” he told her.

He took her back to his bed as he put her clothes in the washer machine. He found her waiting for him. She was still awake, even though she must have been tired.

“Where are you sleeping tonight?” she asked him.

He sat on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t know yet.”

“I can take the couch. I did barge in here.”

“You have feelings for me, don’t you?” he was rather bold asking.

She rolled over with her back turned to him.

“I plan on telling you on my own terms.” she told him.

“What’s holding you back?” he asked her.

“A couple things.”

“Oh?”

“One reason being I just got back here, I should straighten my ground first before I bother you with a confession.”

“What’s another reason?”

“You have a full plate right now, mister. You don’t need me distracting you.”

He didn’t like that she was right.

“I can sleep on the-”

“You can stay, Kai.” she rolled back over.

“Do you want me to?”

“What do you think, Mr. know it all?”

“I don’t know, you haven’t told me anything.” he teased her.

“Oh my god!” she laughed.

“I’ll make an exception for tonight.” He said putting his feet up. “I want to see you sober soon.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” she asked.

“If that’s what takes to sober you up.”

“Are you going to sleep with that mask on?’ she asked.

“Yeah.”

She was always smiling at him. There was no hero as good as her, they could never come close to being as good and pure as her.

“Go to sleep, you need it.” he said.

“I’m not done looking at you.” she protested.

“I get it, you like me,” he told her.

She smiled at the acknowledgement. He didn’t understand why she had these feelings, he was curious as to why. She seemed like someone who would want someone warm. cuddly, someone who didn’t break out in hives, or someone who would enjoy her cooking. She still kept her distance for his needs, always. He did not even give her much hope.

He awoke first. The sunshine came through the blinds and rested on the sleeping girl. She stayed on her side on her of the bed. He thought he could get used to this view, every morning. It wouldn’t be awful. She wasn’t even a drooler. He got up and finished cleaning her clothes. He started more morning activities. He even changed in another room the off chance she would wake up. He was curious about her. He twirled some (color) locks around his finger, it did nothing.

Kai knew what he was, all the bad he was compared to her. He was dangerous, he knew he has a temper, his quirk can destroy anyone or anything. Yet she still had feelings for him, and probably knew about all his flaws despite his attempts keeping it secret. He left her to wake up on her own.He left her water and some aspirin on the nightstand.

She awoke around 8:40 am. She was still wearing his clothes. She met him in the kitchen where he was drinking coffee.

“Good morning.” She said,

“You too.”

“Did anything happen last night?” She asked.

“I wouldn’t do anything like that to you. You were drunk.” He assured her.

“Did I do anything last night?” It seemed she was asking a different question.

“Seems like you’re quite fond of me.” He replied.

“You already knew that.” She smiled.

“I’ll keep my ears open for this confession of yours.” He told her.

“Oh?”

“You’re right to think with your head like that.” He added. “I’ll get you a car when your clothes are ready.”

“You really washed them, huh?”

“I wouldn’t lie about cleaning.” He told her.

“Thank you.”

“Do you need any breakfast?”

“Don’t worry about me, you know I’m a professional cook.”

“Just offering.”

A name kept appearing in the paper. “The league of villains”. The attacked some kids apparently, and a lot of them got arrested. Why bother?

“I need your number.” He told her.

“Oh, and would it be used for?” She asked already writing it.

“You get one a lot of drunk messes. Besides, don't you have a confession you’re working on?”

“I haven’t decided yet if I’ll tell you anything.” She played along.

“Leaving special words left unsaid? Is that what you want to do?”

“Oh Mr. Chisaki, you have more important matters to attend to than waiting for some silly confession!” She pretended to be a debutante with a huge gasped. “Thanks for always taking care of me.” She said going back to herself.

“Should I be expecting more drunk visits from you?”

“No, I think all the house welcoming celebrations are over.” She told him. “Hey, is that the league of villains?” She pointed to the newspaper. “I didn’t know things were getting this bad.”

“They’re just tactless idiots running around causing chaos. They have no goals, no purpose, just riots.” He explained. “They just throw tantrums with their quirks.”

“This whole quirk thing seems to be a lot more tension than it’s worth.” She sighed.

His eyebrow raised.

“It just seems like the heroes use their quirks because they have their licenses, and villains are villains because they don’t. It just seems like they’re all fighting to show off their quirk and have an unnecessary tension.” She told them. “So much damage is done every damn day.”

“Spoken like someone without a quirk.”

“I have one I just don’t use it.” She told him. “And you have yours but I it goes well for your job.” She told him.

“Are the careers hero and villain not real jobs to you?”

“Listen we have the police force to lower crime. Being a hero or a villain doesn’t really focus on the economy stimulating the economy, unless you include merchandise or things the actual villain or hero doesn’t actually do.” She explained. “The existence of those titles just makes both sides worse.”

“Do you wish no one had a quirk?”

“No, that’s too much to ever wish for. Besides my quirk helped me, your quirk helps you. We use them for actual jobs.” She explained. “Quirks are just a reason for people to believe it’s fine to treat others like trash, whether they have one or one they don’t find interesting.”

“Is the underground a job?”

“Yeah, some rules and regulations are too much.” She told him.

An idea was stirring in his mind.

“What about you?”

“You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“I have?”

“But you have other things to attend to.”

“You really wanna hear that confession.”

She kissed peace signed him goodbye and he called her a cab home. His group was losing money, but he had an idea. Both villains and heroes are diseases that have disrupted the world, constantly. A real goal was coming in mind. If he could take out the heroes the Shie Hassaikai could regain power again. The villains involvement would be the experimental phase since they are less cared for by society. Before telling Pops his plan, it would have to be feasible, research would have to be done. But he knew his purpose now, to erase the existence of quirks. He could dismember anything and bring it back together, so why not dismember every quirk?

Next https://tryingfe-imaginesblog.tumblr.com/post/613620890123517952/overhaulxreader-part-8-time-went-on-and-managing

#overhaulxreader #overhaul #chisaki kaixreader #chisaki kai #xreader #bnha fanfiction #bnha

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ohgoddard · 4 years

Text

Fist of Fire.10.

The soft rumbling of a school bus rattles Jade’s head as she rests it on one of the cold metal plates. The bus was alive with chatter as Ricardo and John were sitting together, a friendship that she did not really expect but must have happened because of the training. They were very loudly discussing some hero event that happened in Japan. The rest of the noise was taken up by the snoring of the nurse sleeping at the front of the bus and the music of the radio. Emily sat herself at the far back of the bus, staring daggers at Jade for the duration of the entire ride up until this point. Jade looked behind her shoulder and got a glimpse of her eternal glare. Her hair had grown back at an impressive rate, although it was not back to her old length. Small burn marks could still be seen around the parts of her head where she pulled her hair back. Jade imagined it hurt when she touched them.

Jade looked to the seat next to her and saw Riley laying in one, feet hanging over the side. She, like everyone else, was dressed in a school sweatshirt and sweatpants. Her eyes were closed and her head was resting on her arms, which were behind her forming a small pillow against the metal. Riley must have felt someone looking at her, as she opened an eye to look at Jade. She smirked and winked at jade before closing her eyes again.

Jade turned rapidly away from Riley, feeling as if she could melt the bus. She had almost forgotten about the other girl, who was sitting at the very front reading a book on American Heroes and Private Hero Corporations. She had pulled her hoodie over her head tightly and her hair was obscuring the rest of her fast. Jade still hasn’t learned her name fully, despite knowing it earlier. Anne? Gracie? Jade couldn’t remember. I wonder if that makes me a bad person?

While looking around the bus, aside from the school bus driver, she was reminded of Reverse’s absence in the bus. And of her latent sun powers. Reverse had informed the class that he will not be on the bus ride up to Charleston, as he has to take care of some professional work.

“But don’t you worry,” he said with his usual bravado, “i’ll be there for the coach fight.” Jade knee why he wasn’t coming with them. Another one of the Laurens SHS crew had been killed. It was a small news story, one she only knew about because she heard a glimpse from the radio playing in the shower room a few mornings ago. It has been a week since that murder, and Reverse had been showing up to practices only sparingly. He had delegated most of the practice oversight to his assistant, which no one knew he had. They were a small blonde woman who told everyone they were not his assistant, but a former professional hero sport coach that he hired for the week. So their practices were a tad bit harder leading up to their first tournament in Charleston.

In class, Reverse had been looking more and more haggard. And more bruised. The day before they left, he had limped into class. He brushed off all questions about it, only focusing on quirk actualization or some garbage. He wouldn’t even talk to Jade, only telling her to continue trying to work out her solar powers. Which she has been unable to do. After the revelation that she had used her dad’s quirk, Reverse filled her in on what it meant. Jade thought she sweat gasoline, but no. She was just capturing heat from the sun and storing it in her body and releasing it via her sweat. But, if she could concentrate enough it seems, she could shoot a damned laser from the sun itself.

Except she’s been unable to do that. Try as she could, night after night and day after day, she could not summon the power of the sun down to her. It kept her up at night, confusing her deeply. How could she not call out to it on demand? It should come to her easily, she felt. And it opened up so much more questions about her father. If he could harness the power of the sun itself, how could he lose in a fight? And because he, the solar hero Helios, died to Planeteer, just how strong was he?! Jade’s world was getting more and more complicated by the week it seemed. And Reverse not being here was only making it worse.

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

Reverse threw a man across the back alley of a brick building. Dust and pebbles scattered everywhere. The streets were loud and busy, so no one heard a thing. He was performing in broad daylight, yet no one saw him.

Because he was dressed in disguise.

“I know you have information.” Reverse walked forward towards the man he had thrown. He was not in his usual uniform, instead dawning a simple grey sweatshirt and sweatpants. He obscured his face by wrapping it with white medical tape, masking any features. He grabbed a brick from the broke against the wall and threw it at the man he assaulted, the projectile shattering next to his head.

“I don’t know man! I DON’T KNOW!” the man screamed and started to back away from the advancing Reverse. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Reverse moved in a snap in front of the man and grabbed his collar, shoving him into the wall behind him.

“BULLSHIT! I know everything goes through you in this part of the city. Two murders happened to two former heroes, there is no way you.” He punches him in the gut.”DON’T.” He punches him in the gut again.”KNOW!” He drops him and grabs the hair on his head and goes to slam his head into the ground when he yells out ,”OK OK! I’LL TALK I’LL TALK!” Mere inches away from the concrete, his head was paused. Reverse let go of his hair and he fell and hit the ground.”Talk.”

The man rolled over, and he was a real weasel. In fact, he was a weasel, his body reflecting the rodent perfectly. “Someone was asking around my people, asking for the whereabouts of a guy named Eldritch. He paid me the money and I told him.” Reverse stepped on the man’s chest and started to lean into it. “Who,” Reverse asked him” The weasel man squirmed, gasping for air. “EMESH! HIS NAME IS EMESH!” Reverse pulls up to his face, his eyes centimetres away from his. “Where is he?!�� “HE’S GOING TO SOME HERO COMBAT TOURNAMENT IN CHARLESTON!” Just as he yelled that out, two police men walked by the alley and looked to see Reverse standing on the man.

The Police Men started to rush in, drawing their weapons and yelling, “FREEZE! POLICE!” Reverse, like they asked, froze. He stepped off the man’s body and put his hands in the air. Once the policemen got close, one went to grab Reverse and cuff him, roughly doing so. The other went to assess the damage of the fallen weasel man, who was still lying on the ground. The office patted the weasel man down, and talked to him about some things. Reverse was now cuffed and on his knees in front of the police, as they began to talk into their radios for a pickup.

“Rick, this man has two broken ribs and a broken foot. We need an ambulance for him.” The police officer, Rick, Reverse assumed, looked at him. “Who are you, huh? We both know who this is here, this guy you were so kindly stomping on.” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the weasel man on the ground. “Vigilante Justice is illegal, doubly so in these times. So, i’m gonna ask again, who are you?” Reverse looked up to the cop’s eyes, and spoke. “Wraps.” Reverse then snapped the cuffs behind him and leapt into the air towards one of the brick walls. He punched a hole in the side and began to climb to the roof of the building at alarming speeds,the police standing there dumbfounded before yelling into their radios.

Reverse got to the roof and started leaping from one to another, making it blocks away from the police and their backup heroes they were no doubt calling. When he reached a distance he thought suitable, he jumped into another alley and changed clothes quicker than a professional broadway actor. He was now no longer Wraps, but Reverse. He was in his usual shorts and t-shirt getup, stuffing his sweats and wrappings into a duffel bag. He then looked around to make sure the coast was clear and joined the street traffic. Excellent, he thought, I got the information I was looking for and away from the Police. The Wraps persona is working out great.

When Reverse had seen Eldritch’s corpse, he knew he could no longer sit by and let this happen. He was the only one of the surviving crew who could have a chance against Planeteer. Which, he now knows goes by the name Emesh. The loss of Tapout hurt the most, but the loss of Eldritch is what finally got him to work. Outside of him, those two were the hardest hitters and could trap anything or defeat anything. It’s now up to him to find Emesh and bring him to justice. So, he set out to investigate. But he could not go out as Reverse. For one thing, he no longer had a valid hero license. If he was found doing this, he could be taken to jail and his search would be for nothing. Two, he did not want to draw attention to Jade, because if word got out that he taught the daughter of famous hero Helios, Emesh would descend from the sky akin to a fallen angel and destroy the school and all within with glee. So, he had to adopt a new persona.

And I think it couldn’t have gone any better. Now, I need to get to Charleston.And with that, he disappeared into a blur on the horizon.

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“Alright kids,” the nurse called out to the bus as they pulled into a hotel parking lot, “we’re here! Now, the tournaments tomorrow at noon, so we’ll be getting up at 7 to get there. Don’t be going to bed late now! I’ll be handing out room keys for y'all. The school didn't want to buy individual rooms for you, so you’ll be sleeping in pairs of two.” Jade’s ears perked up at that. Oh God. What If I have to share a room with that girl? Or Emily? Or- “First up is Riley and Jade. You get room 127. Next is -” Jade’s heart stopped a bit. Riley sauntered up to the nurse, took the room key, and looked back at Jade. She smiled and gave a little head nod towards the hotel. “C’mon hot head, lets go. I'm tired from doing all that nothing today.” Jade could catch on fire in that moment and probably did. This would be the first time she would have to interact and sleep in the same room as another girl who was incredibly hot. Their hotel room had two beds, which Jade found both reliving and disheartening, a terrible TV and a bathroom. Riley threw her stuff on one bed, followed by herself, and turned on the TV. Jade moved to the other bed and tried to act as cool as Riley, who was exuding coolness while just laying there watching the news. “Hey Jade,” Riley said while taking off her hood and turning to look at her, “I have a question.” Jade looked over her, trying her best to make sure no blood rushed to her face from just having a basic human interaction. “Yes?” Jade was beginning to warm up, and being afraid of lighting the sheets on fire, grabbed a bottle of water she had brought with her and began drinking it. “Are you gay?”

Jade spit out a good bit of the water, and choked up a bit more. While she was scrambling to regain her composure, Riley let out a little giggle.”W-why,” she coughed,”Why do you ask? I am, by the way. Gay, that is.” Riley laughed, giving a big stretch while she did it. “Thought you were. I catch you staring at me sometimes. Kinda thought you were checking me out, but I wasn’t sure.” Riley stood up and started to collect some clothing items from her suitcase she brought, and Jade was out of this world. She...she knew? And as if reading Jade’s mind, “Yeah, I knew you were looking at me.” She started to walk towards the bathroom. “And i’m not gonna lie, I kinda like it. I wanna get to know you better.” Jade has not said a word, for every response she could think of was getting stuck in her throat. “Now, i’m not saying we should date right off the bat,” as she was saying that she was grabbing a towel hanging outside the bathroom door, “but I would not be opposed to doing that kinda stuff in the future. I’m going to take a shower now, no peeking now ok~?” And with that she winked and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Jade fell over and passed out, the events that just took place overloading her with too much information to handle. This weekend is going to kill me.

The next morning, after a rather boring continental breakfast and hasty morning shower, everyone found themselves back on the bus. And still without Reverse among them. Is he really going to meet us there for the tournament? Jade’s thoughts were interrupted when Riley came on the bus and sat down next to her, already in uniform. Although, she was wearing her sweats over them. “So,” she said as she put her arm over the headrest of the seat they were both sitting in, “let's do that getting to know each other thing I talked about. I wanted to try to do it last night, but I think I burnt you out like a light bulb.” She is practically putting her arm around me ohmygosh. Screw the weekend, I’m not going to survive this bus ride.

#FoF:og #original #original writing #original story #originalwriting #orignal female character #creative writing #creativewriting #creative #superhero #superhero story

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statusquoergo · 5 years

Text

Alright, let’s do this.

As to be expected, we open on the afterglow of the Season 8 finale. I personally found this scene to be pretty cringy, but I have actual criticisms of the current Darvey relationship that’ll come up later, so I’m going to leave it alone for now; the only thing I’ll say about the scene with Louis is that I found the heavy-handedness of the sexual innuendo to be extremely childish and tediously predictable. Oh, and the whole “Wait let’s not tell anyone right away” thing is pretty much letter for letter the same rationale that Mike and Rachel used for keeping it a secret that they had moved up their wedding date; that is to say, little to no forethought and almost guaranteed to end up Not How They Planned. No, wait, one more thing: I can only assume that Harvey’s panic about Louis finding him at Donna’s apartment is the result of sleep deprivation and delirium because dude, if you need a place to hide out for awhile, the bedroom is right down the hall. Or fuck, crouch down behind the kitchen counter, I don’t care. Hide in the bathroom. You have options.

(Okay, one more thing: “You didn’t see what was right in front of your face for 12 years.” What. I mean… Seriously, what. Does time even exist in this universe?)

Next up, Alex introduces us, in a very much not-off-the-record encounter, to what I can only assume will be the driving conflict of this season: the New York State Bar Association (NYSBA) has caught wind of the Ethics Committee hearing that ousted Robert Zane, and now they’re taking it upon themselves to restore the integrity of the firm currently known as Zane Specter Litt Wheeler Williams, by any means necessary, starting with the removal of Zane’s name from the letterhead.

This is bullshit.

The NYSBA is a voluntary agency with no actual legislative capability. As per the association’s website, “it does not license, regulate nor investigate an [attorney’s] ability to practice law.” New York Rules of Professional Conduct Rule 7.5 (Professional Notices, Letterheads, and Signs) prohibits Robert from representing himself as a practicing member of the bar, or a current partner at the firm, but it permits the firm to continue representing itself with his name, if they so choose. So the Bar Association has zero capacity to back up this stupid request, but more to the point, I have no idea why they even care. There are over 9,800 law firms currently operating in New York City; statistically, the probability that every single one of them represents the pinnacle of legalistic integrity is insanely low, and considering the amount of turnover and increasingly public turmoil at GSVD/PH/PD/PDS/PS/PSL/SL/ZSL/ZSLWW, it must be years since it’s been a remotely reputable institution.

Moving on! Samantha and Harvey land on a tangible outcome of Robert’s decision to take the fall for Donna and Harvey: The firm is hemorrhaging clients. Samantha determines that Eric Kaldor is responsible for the sudden turnaround, but honestly, I’m surprised the firm has any clients left at this point anyway. Thomas Kessler has the right idea when he walks out the door with the casual reminder that Harvey manipulated him into lying at the hearing (which, by the way, was conducted by the New York State Legislative Ethics Commission, not the Bar Association); instead of freaking out about this frankly inevitable outcome, maybe Harvey et al. should take a minute to appreciate the fact that Kessler isn’t seeking to have them all disbarred.

Special shout-out to Louis’s stellar one-liner: “I wanna check and see how bad our reputation is.” (Spoiler alert: It’s very bad.)

As it happens, Samantha is right about Kaldor because of course she is, which leads to a semi-violent encounter set at a hockey rink, for some reason, where we get to see some cracks in the purportedly strong allegiance between Samantha and Harvey, and Samantha reminds us the viewers that she’s a badass with a short temper as she shoves Kaldor up against the boards and I’m forced to wonder exactly where these claims of a unified front are coming from all of a sudden. Basically all of Season 8 was spent drawing battle lines up and down the firm, but now that Robert’s gone, they have some magical allegiance to one another? If it’s a direct result of Robert’s actions and subsequent departure, I have to assume these amicable feelings are going to fade as the adrenaline rush dies down; otherwise it’s just a convenient plot device, but to be fair, that’s pretty on-brand, so I can’t give them too much shit for it.

You know what I absolutely can give them shit for?

Darvey.

(Please, you knew this was coming.)

The first of my actual criticisms of them for this episode: Donna’s breakup with Thomas, and Harvey becoming an unwitting enabler of unfaithfulness. Way back in February, at the end of Season 8, one of the concerns aired about Donna and Harvey hooking up was that Donna was still in a relationship with Thomas, and infidelity, if I recall correctly, is a bit of a sore spot for Harvey. Korsh admitted that an explicit breakup scene was filmed for s08e16 and removed from the final cut, but the implication as I read it was that as far as the showrunners were concerned, Donna and Thomas had come to a mutual understanding that they were done and he was out of the picture, the poor guy. Not so! Now, retconning for the win, we have the privilege of watching them break up over the phone, which is of course the epitome of class.

True, that was tactless, but the real sticky wicket here is Harvey and Donna’s conversation about the breakup once it’s over and done with. Harvey is rightly alarmed at his role, but the thing that gets me, aside from how quickly he seems to just go with her assurance that everything is fine and he “didn’t do anything wrong,” is that his response to her revealing that she and Thomas were still a couple when he came over isn’t “Why didn’t you say anything,” it isn’t “Why didn’t you stop me.” It isn’t “You know how I feel about cheating.” No, it’s “I would never have.” It’s an apology.

Now, maybe this is narrow-minded of me, but I always figured that Harvey’s whole problem with cheating was the whole…cheating part. Apparently not; it seems that issues only arise when Harvey is the one doing the cheating (see: Paula [s07e11]), or in a position to accuse the cheater directly from a third-party perspective (see: Lily [s02e10], Mike [s02e12], Marcus [s08e05]). (For real, he almost beat the shit out of Mike without knowing anything beyond “there was infidelity involved here”; Mike, who was exactly in the position Harvey is in now—the third party sleeping with an otherwise involved woman—refuses to tell him how he got beaten up with no explanation but that it’s because of the story Harvey told him about Lily cheating on Gordon, and Harvey’s response is “You got off easy.”) The otherwise unattached participant gets a free pass. BUT WAIT! Harvey was furious with Bobby when he saw him with Lily (s05e10), and tried to throw him out of his parents’ house; there must be some other explanation. Maybe Donna is just the prettiest princess in all the land and the fact that it’s her doing the cheating is enough to relieve all of Harvey’s built-in trauma? Well if that isn’t just the laziest goddamn rationale I can think of. Oh, so maybe, just maybe, Harvey is going to get some real, actual therapy this season and do some honest exploration of his apparently much-more-complex-than-previously-anticipated relationship with infidelity!

Right. I bet that’s it.

It’s possible that this will come back again later in the season, but I can’t tell yet what direction they’re planning to take the Darvey trajectory, so I don’t want to start throwing out assumptions. Now that they’ve confronted it so blatantly, I hope they don’t abandon it like this, but who knows.

In the meantime, Louis is still trying to boost recruitment efforts, this time by badgering Professor Gerard into letting him be the keynote speaker at Harvard’s upcoming Ethics Conference. I don’t really have much to say about this subplot except that it’s one of the stupidest and most illogical things they could’ve come up with; can you just imagine Louis speaking at an ethics conference? Gerard is right that Harvard students won’t be snowed by Louis making some pretty speech about the firm’s integrity, and the Q&A would be a disaster! Not to mention, the conference probably has a keynote lined up already, and it’s not like there won’t be other speakers there; Louis doesn’t need to be top billing to get his five minutes, assuming anyone would listen to a single word he has to say. Oh, and am I seriously supposed to believe that they’re experiencing a sudden drop in top-tier applications now? As opposed to…the past, what, three years? Four years? However long it’s been in this nonsense timeline since Mike went to prison (after which point they were also bemoaning a lack of applicants). But actually, why wouldn’t students be applying here? If the firm is desperate for interviewees, it’s practically a sure thing that everyone will get through to the first round, so even if the students have no intention of accepting an offer, having the interview is great practice for firms where they actually care about getting a job.

Part II

#marvey #suits usa #season 9 #s09e01 #analysis

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chaniters · 5 years

Text

Fallen Hero AU Fanfic 6. Ranger Adventures

Part 6

Beginning to steer this to it’s conclusion. Spoilers for Fallen Hero Series as always.

Some thoughts on how MC would be treated by the world if they were not forced to hide their secrets. How far would Ortega fight for them? Herald and Sidestep centered plot. Also, explores some of the (original?) villains I came up with for this. I’m trying to get better at writing villains right now.

Hope you like It !

And thanks to Malin!

Inhuman

Ranger HQ. Evening.

"Any changes?" Steel asked Moira, one of the professionals on their strike force. She was a military doctor.

The Dark Energy Man lied motionless on his bed. He had just barely eaten some food.

"We have biometric Id. Jake Black. His wife got died to overdose so no surprise he hates the cartel. But changes ? No. He's got brief periods of activity where he gets really excited, and then falls unresponsive. I think he's hallucinating too, we've seen him talk to himself."

"Hmr.. and we can't get Sidestep to check trough an energy absorber..."

"Not unless he wants to run the risk of getting his brain fried" She smiled

"I'll keep it as a last resort" Steel said, impossible to tell if he was serious.

"What's your assessment?."

"He only took the Hero drugs what four days ago? His body must be still adjusting. Changing"

"Very well.. keep me informed. I'll go meet the others..."

Steel strolled to an elevator to the ready room. He adjusted his shirt and pants examining himself in the mirror. It was kind of a routine. Their headquarter had many floors now. Ever since Sidestep had the old one destroyed by HG that is. That's how Steel lost almost all the clothing that used to fit him. Stupid Sidestep. He had to buy new sets of everything and it wasn't easy for someone with so many mods.

"... and that's how they'r creating the Demons" Herald finished explaining. Steel already knew that part.

"So what happened to Cyrus? He didn't seem alright"

"I'm not sure.. I thought I'd lost him. He was't listening to me at all, he was just petrified... and then he went back to normal... sort of."

"He's got a history with mad scientists experimenting on people" Argent pointed out.

"He told me he just needed some time." Ortega spoke a bit worried "He's not sure why, but he admitted he was a bit spooked. I'd be more worried if he had denied the whole thing, which is what he usually did in the past. I.. I think he needs a bit of alone time. Then i'll go talk to him."

"True. Very well... what's your take, Anderson?"

"We have enough to go on against Ellison now. The pictures you got really tell the whole tale Herald. They'r developing a hero drug, it got stolen, sold on the streets, and then they killed the thief to cover it up. Oh and let’s not forget they are turning people into demons. I think that qualifies as an exception to the west-coast protection he has."

Steel nodded. Time for action then.

"Ortega. You and me go to the Last Gate church along with our strike team... we have to put an end to the experiments"

"Argent... Ellison's car was seen entering FarmaCore's main building's garage so..."

"I get to kick his ass"

Steel smiled "Yes. You and Anderson head to FarmaCore and arrest that twisted shit before he can do anything else."

"What about me?" Herald asked

"You get to stay at the base this time."

"What? Why?"

"Because, we have an immensely powerful boost in our cell, and if contention fails, I don't want Sidestep to be alone to stop him"

"He's not coming either?"

"Not this time... for the same reasons as you. Also, I don't like taking chances if he's not at his best. You tell him. We'll get ready".

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

Sidestep's room.

Cyrus lied back on his bean bag, completely covered by a blanket on top of it. Hidden from the world.

He didn't know what got to him. The voice had been silent. He had made an *almost* full recovery. He had taken his medication on the hour every hour every day. He hadn't missed a single therapy appointment. He had a fucking psych report saying he was ALMOST normal.

And he just walked into that fucking basement and it triggered next level hallucinations, a panic attack and a complete recalling of the Heartbreak and his first attempt on his life. He had been close. He had tried a few times later after that...

The last one was when he had almost made Herald drop him. The teleporting ray had also been one, he didn't like to admit it but he had hoped it would fail, and that he would just disappear.

But he didn't feel suicidal. Not anymore.

He was starting to like this life he had bargained for.

Even if he wasn't human.

Even if he didn't really had rights.

How.. how had he relapsed so strongly?

He felt he was failing... failing at getting better.

He didn't want to fall into that hole again. He didn't know if he could crawl his way out again.

"I have to get better" he said aloud. He owed it to Ortega.

After He had pushed Ortega into signing that deal for him...

He owed him for his new life.

Just like he owed him for teaching him about all the things that made him a real person after he broke out.

He owed him so damn much, and he was going to disappoint him. Again.

He remembered what Steel said.

Don't fuck it up.

Well he was going ahead and doing just that just to keep things interesting.

He closed his eyes and covered his face, trying to escape his own thoughts.

On his bean-bag, under his blanket. -----------------------------------------------------

6 months ago.

"Say again?"

"I want to take the deal"

"You can't be serious!"

"I am serious."

"But this is just... insulting! It's like... like a license to own a dog! No Cyrus! I can't let you...I'm not going to ..."

"Ricardo..."

"No. Definitely not. I won't..."

"...Ricardo"

"Out of the question!"

"Ricardo please. Can you not fight me on this?"

Silence.

The governor took the chance to speak

"Look, I can't legally make you a human. But nothing stops me from doing THIS under the economic free zone regulations. It's a middle ground"

"If he takes this, people will think this is how it's supposed to end... there is momentum in the media! If we keep at it we can..."

"I can't."

"But this is your fight!"

"I know.. but... i just... can't do it anymore.. please"

Ortega just stood silent. He couldn't give up. He couldn't let Cyrus give up. They had fought so hard... there were online petitions .. people mobilizing to protest in the streets...

Then he looked at Cyrus. He was pleading with him. With testimony to congress, along with reporters all day long and the hate groups that had emerged against the re-gene cause, the last month had certainly been hell. Panic attacks. Nightmares. His psych test had been a total mess. He was furious at having to use the wheelchair after HG shot him. The physical pain of rehab itself... Trying to walk again....

He couldn't ignore it... he was falling apart with each day. If they continued... he would pay the price.

He took a deep breath and tried to swallow every emotion and intuition telling him this was the wrong choice.

He looked at Cyrus straight in the eyes and asked.

"Look... if we do this, there's no turning back. So I need you to to tell me. Are you completely sure? Is this what you really want?"

Cyrus took a few moments to answer. "Y...Yes. Yes, I want to have a life now, not in 10 years.

Ortega rubbed his face as he tried to cool down.

"Shit...” This was hard...

“Ok then." I'll sign. I'll sign the thing.. whatever you have to throw at us, i'll sign it. Just... " he pointed a finger at the governor "Just don't cheat us. Please, just don't cheat us later" he pleaded. He felt defeated.

"It's in everybody's best interests. I do stand for the Re-gene cause, but there's only so much I can do without a congress law" He slided the papers to them. "Maybe congress will solve this in the near future, and this doesn't mean others won't continue the fight he started"

Only Ortega signed. Cyrus's signature wasn't valid, since only humans could sign legally binding documents.

"So" he forced himself to ask, as he signed, paper after paper. "How will this... how's this going to work?" He spoke in the most neutral tone he could manage, when in truth he wanted to break the table with his modded fist.

"You'll be assigned guardianship. You are entitled to acquire the equivalent of monthly payment of that of a ranger as long as Cyrus works as a "Honorary" member. You can administer it as you see fit to cover his expenses. Also you can ..." And they went on, and on, explaining how Cyrus's legal non-humanhood, whatever it was, would work.

Other re-genes where being offered similar deals. Not as good as this one tough, they couldn't even choose guardians they trusted.

"Non human person". A new legal status, only valid in the west coast.

If Cyrus agreed to this, most of the others would too, that was a given. And they would probably forfeit the right to be truly heard by the public... they would become yesterday's news. The legal case would be off the front page.

The Governor nodded as he signed the papers as well.

"Very well then... it's done."

....

"I know you think i'm giving up" Cyrus spoke as Ortega pushed the wheelchair through the underground tunnel to avoid the media.

"I understand why... But it feels so wrong."

"I know but... yesterday I was just a piece of property owned by the state Ricardo."

"And what are you now?"

"A protected piece of property"

"That's still not a human"

"We've talked to the lawyers... It's better than spending 10 more years in limbo. I don't think i can do that Ricardo. This way I can join the rangers... I can be someone useful..."

"Even if you'r protected, it's not..." Ortega began

"Protected by you." Cyrus interrupted "And that's enough for me"

Ortega hadn't known what to answer to that. He still didn’t. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The present.

As the ranger vehicles left the headquarters, a man in a nearby bar dialed a number

"It's time"

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

Herald was at the situation room.

Steel and Ortega had found and defeated a few demons in the church's grounds after a small skirmish. After that, the church had surrendered and the leaders where being arrested. Several people being held in cells were released too.

Argent and Anderson had faced resistance from FamaCore's security. They were looking for Ellison inside the premises.

Patrol cars were at his homes, and several other locations... still no sign of him.

He was about to call Steel again for an update, when an explosion shook the building. He braced himself. All the lights turned red, then the security cameras died. All of them. Then the alarm sounded.

Gunfire and screams. Herald ran to help,.

A group of veteran strike team members where fighting the creatures already emerging from the elevator shaft. Demons.

One of them was already lying on the floor, bleeding from several energy weapon wounds.

He activated his wrist energy emitter and took cover, firing at the things as well. Another one fell down the shaft. Two more came from the stairs. He activated a panel on the wall, sealing the entrance with a thick metal bars coming off the ceiling.

“Quick! To the emergency staircase!" They did as he said. He flew trough the corridors towards the armory. He was going to need heavy weapons to face these things.

He couldn't prepare for the figure materializing in front of him.

"Going somewhere?" The fist connected straight to his gut, and given his current speed, it made him bend over in the air.

Herald managed to roll away. Durability was a good power to have sometimes.

He looked up at the grinning figure.

A dark ninja-style suit. A mercenary villain called Darkfist. Ortega, and Argent had been beaten by this one in single combat before. Shit.

"What's the matter? Giving up already?"

Herald remembered. Darkfist's powers was very specific. when he attacked, he could teleport short distance, with energy infused fists. So anyone fighting the Villain usually got pummeled before he could do respond.

"Just warming up" he stood up. He had to distract Darkfist so the personnel would be safe.

He aimed his wrist emitter and took his shot... Darkfist teleported in a puff of black smoke... he braced for the worst.

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

The building shook. An explosions. Alarm sounds. Sidestep removed his blanket. All lights were red.

Fuck.

He rushed out of his room. He had to get to the stairs to get to the ready room... Only there was a demon in the stairs. He froze. He could feel the minds.. many demons.

There was an emergency stair hidden behind a panel in the living-room. He could get up trough it and...

"Hello Cyrus. I hear that is the name you took now?"

He paused. He hadn't sensed this mind. An old, thin and tall man, with grey hear and a black diamond mask, with brass engraved cane. He wore a dark suit, black gloves and a black sweater. Not the most creative Villain suit. Standing in his way.

"Who are you supposed to be?"

"You can call me Phatos."

"I can call you whatever I want after i beat you down!" No time for this. Sidestep lunged for a quick takedown.

The old man just moved out of the way and he missed by a longshot.

"Oh.. you've goten slower" He pushed Sidestep with the tip of his cane, and he almost lost balance

"What the...?" He attacked again, but this time, his enemy wasn't even there. He hit a wall, and cursed at his pained fingers.

"Tsk Tsk... What a disappointment. And you had made such a name for yourself. Sidestep and all."

"Who the fuck are you?" Sidestep knew the voice... but he couldn't place it. And he could not sense his mind at all.

"Oh come now. Don't you remember me ?" He lips turned into a smile under his mask.

Sidestep focused. There it was. He could sense it. It was hiding... but no longer. He could sense it's shields. Strong shields. Very like his own.... familiar shields...

He took a step back.

He knew this man... he had trained with him. Him and his brothers. He had been at the farm.. he had taught them... everything.

"Carl?" Sidestep asked finally

"It's Pathos now... But i'm glad to see you brain hasn't melted... yet" He took a step forward.

"What the heck are you doing here?" Sidestep said assuming a defensive stance

"What does it look i'm doing?" He clicked a button on his cane and a short blade emerged from the tip.

He trusted the cane and Sidestep dodged... but the blade wasn't where it was supposed to be. He got a nasty cut on his arm.

Pathos sneered. "You know ever since i retired, I've found there's a really enormous demand for people like me. I do charge a lot for my services, but i'm doing you for free"

Pathos slashed again, but Sidestep trapped the blade with his bare hands.

"Oh. I see you haven't gone totally soft"

Sidestep took the cane off his hands and pointed it at him.

"Why? What could you possibly gain from this?"

"You really don't remember?"

Sidestep felt the immediate pressure against his shields. He strengthened them as hard as he could... but his mind just went trough as if they weren't there...

"Wha..."

"It's no use being in the strongest of Alpha leagues if your opponent, even a Beta like me has the key to your front door Fivofour."

"I'm Cyrus!" He strengthened his shields again and pushed him back. He trusted the cane at Pathos... but it became a snake in his hands, hissing and biting at him. He dropped it. "How the fuck.."

"Experience makes the master. Remember I taught you everything you know. And you have let yourself develop a huge weakness... let it fester even" Pathos smiled. "It's a secret we share, do you remember Doll? Do you remember how I fixed you after they brought to me in pieces?" For the Briefest instant, his face turned into that of the monster... the origin of the voice... the Heartbreak.

Sidestep recoiled... but his back hit the wall.

"Do you remember when I came to help you because you wanted to kill yourself ? When you made me your tool, and tried to have me strangle you? This obsession you gave me.. it never went away." Phatos continued, clearly enjoying Sidestep’s pained expression.

The old man raised his cane and attacked again. Sidestep dodged and blocked trying to disarm him once more, but he just couldn't outsmart his old mentor. Every move, he did, Pathos could predict. He gave him another cut on the left leg this time.

"When you escaped I realized i had lost my chance... only killing others gave me some respite...But we both know how these induced obsessions work right?.. If i finally kill you.. Then maybe if I'll be free, don’t you agree?."

They engaged once more. Sidestep was stronger... faster.. but there was little he could do against someone who could dodge faster than he could think.

With a final deception, Pathos knocked him down, driving his head against a wall. ......................................

Three strikes in quick succession. Each time, Darkfist had teleported in the middle of his swing. There wasn't any time to react... Herald was just getting beaten over and over against this guy.

His back was against a window when... A window.

He shot his wrist weapon shattering the glass.

Darkfist ran at him, ready to strike again.

Herald waited.. he waited...until...

Now!

The moment Darkfist's body started blurring and preparing his teleportation, he jumped backwards.

As predicted, he got another brutal fist to the face.... but after that he flew upwards.

Darkfist didn't fly at all. His powers where teleporting to attack. There was no reports of him ever teleporting without performing his "Dark Punch". So he had no way to avoid the fall.

The 7th floor was probably high enough.

“Splat” Herald said.

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

Ellison entered some commands in the console, and the power dampener device deactivated, opening the containment cell.

Pathos entered the room followed by a Demon carrying the unconscious Sidestep.

The Dark Energy man stood up, with a smile on his lips.

"Ahh.. High priest. It’s good to see you again. It’s been so many years"

Ellison bowed to the man.

"I am sorry. We didn't expect your return to take place in this unclean vessel... one of our workers was... unfaithful. He has been dealt with."

The Dark Energy man simply walked out of the cell.

"It is of no consequence. I have almost consumed this man's personality. I am in control. His quests for vengeance was pointless.. but entertaining" The inhuman thing behind his eyes smiled. "Your technology and the teachings of the Elder one have created the right tool to tear the veil between our realms. I am pleased."

"You honor us. If you would follow us, we will guide you to our preparations, oh great one"

They began walking towards the exit, as countless demons cleared the path outside.

Ellison whispered to Phatos. "Where is Darkfist?"

"The flyboy killed him. Can't say I saw that coming."

The Dark Energy Man stopped and turned to the Demon holding Sidestep.

"An offering? The one that killed my last vessel too. Most appropriate high priest." He nodded to Ellison "The elder one will devour his power immediately after his coming." Pathos smiled as well.

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

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero spoilers #fanfiction #alternate universe #chargestep #Fallen hero

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wolfjawswriter · 6 years

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Single Daddy Issues - Lockwood x Lucy 1

“1st Day at Kindergarten”- Lockwood x Lucy

Lockwood and Co. Series

Summary: Gotta like the teacher!

AU: SingleDaddyAU!

—————Lockwood—————

“You’ve got your lunchbox, dear?”

“Yes daddy”

“And your crayons?”

“Yes daddy”

“And you brought your blanky?”

“Yes daddy”

I drove down the highway stealing glances on my rearview mirror at the little girl that sat on my car’s backseat: my beautiful daughter, Juniper Lockwood.

Ever since I was in high school, I knew what I’d dedicate my life to; my father’s law firm. I had carefully planned my whole life so that I would get the best grades in high school, go to the best college in London, or if possible somewhere abroad, graduate with honors and start my professional career as the family’s business new boss.

My plans hadn’t fail me; I met all my expectations with ease and was soon appointed the CEO of Lockwood and Co., but, you know how people say that there’s our plans and life’s plans for us? And life always gets away with what it wants?

Well, that is exactly what happened to me: one moment my ex-girlfriend from college was at the door of my apartment, and the next moment I had my arms full with a one-year-old girl this woman claimed was mine. And according to the medical tests I took, she was mine.

This was a terrible turn of events for me. I suddenly had to provide for myself and a brat I did not wanted! That’s where my sister, Jessica, came up.

I told her what happened and she came to see me a week after the incident. She had been absolutely delighted to see how much resemblance there was between me and the girl, spent almost an hour cooing at the baby.

Jessica offered me an easy way out of the situation; she’d take the girl away and raise her as her own with her husband and her other kids. Little Juniper would never know she was mine: to her I’d only be uncle Anthony. I had been so tempted to say yes, but by then I had already spent a week tending to the little headache, and honestly, I had started to understand what parents felt like. The joy and pride they got from their children. I suddenly understood why my sister put up with her baby sons.

So, of course I rejected the offer, and promised myself and my baby girl I’d make it work, somehow, someway, even if I was a single dad. After all, money was not an issue.

Today, four years later, was her first day at kindergarten, and I was honestly more nervous than she was. The company had been growing lately and I’d been very busy overseeing all new changes, and even though Jessica was always happy to look after Juniper, I knew she’d have to go to school soon. Just, why so soon?

My deputy, Quill Kipps, suggested this little day care, Little Angel Childcare Center, where his son, Bobby, is currently attending. For what I understood, it was a small but very reputable kindergarten, with excellent reviews, numerous certifications and diplomas, and was actually close to my workplace, but that was as far as my knowledge went. Jessica had made me the favor of attending the school tour for parents and kids and taking the enrollment package, since, due to my overpacked schedule, I hadn’t been able to go. She assured me it was a fine school, but I needed to see this place for myself.

I pulled on the parking lot and took an eyeful of the place. It was a small building, walls painted with bright rainbows and clouds and smiling suns. The playground outside was spacious, with hard plastic houses, sand pits, slides and swing sets. Other cars were parked here as well, with mothers and fathers helping their children off the car and taking them to the building, some kids crying and some others happy.

I took a deep breath and walked out of the car, opening the backseat’s door to help my daughter off her baby seater.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” I asked her one last time. Juniper looked at the building’s door where people entered and disappeared, then back at me with her big, brown eyes.

“Yes daddy”

“All right then, take my hand” The sight of unruly children was everywhere: running around the playground, the parking lot, the halls, crying or laughing, being pulled or chased by their annoyed parents. I made a mental reminder to praise Juniper later for being so well-behaved; cook her favorite dinner, and maybe watch a Disney movie with her before bedtime.

“Hey, Junie!” A woman greeted us as we walked down the hall. She was short, very short indeed, with brown hair, also cut short. She wore a sweater and a skirt over leggings, and a light yellow apron on top. Couldn’t be older than twenty “Welcome to your first day of class”

“Hi miss” Juniper shyly waved her tiny hand at her.

“You don’t have to greet the janitor, dear” I told my daughter. The woman raised an eyebrow and frowned, before grinning slyly at me.

“I am Juniper’s teacher” She said and pointed to the apron “This is just the uniform” Oh dear. My face heated up in embarrassment, but I decided to put it aside for appearance’s sake, so I raised my eyebrow at her.

“Who are you?”

“Name’s Lucy Carlyle. Very polite girl you’ve got here” She said as she ruffled Juniper’s freshly combed hair “You must be Anthony Lockwood, her dad. Though, you look kinda young to be a father”

And she looked much too young to be a fully licensed teacher, let me tell you!

“Yes, she is my daughter” I said putting my best business smile “Can I speak with the principal?”

“Headmistress Munro is not here right now” She said as she turned and guided us to the classroom, which’s floor was covered in colorful foam, with tiny table and chairs here and there. There were toys bins on one side of the room and bookshelves on the other, plus a TV on one of the walls “But I’m assuming there’ll be a few things you want to know before leaving Juniper in our care”

“Yes, are you a fully licensed teacher? Have you been trained in child psychology?”

“I’m majored in it” She said proudly “Mrs Jessica told us about your daughter, man, she’ll be okay here”

“What kind of snacks do you provide the kids with?”

“Biscuits, tea, milk, fruit, sometimes cake, and for those who stay in the afternoon hours, we give them a healthy meal at midday, its all supervised by the nutritionist” She listed off by memory and smiled “And, because I know you’ll ask, we do provide gluten-free options. But I see she brought her own lunch box”

“Daddy, can I play with the toys?” I heard Juniper ask quietly beside me.

“In a moment, darling” I pointed to the toy bins and eyed it suspiciously “How often are those cleaned?”

“We clean all the toys before morning starts, after class hours, during nap time and whenever any of them gets too dirty” Lucy took a doll from the bin my daughter her been eyeing and gave it to me so I could inspect it. I guess it was decent “She is your first child, isn’t she? That’s why you’re so, neurotic?” The teacher asked me with a smile.

I tried my best to look offended off my cavalries, but ended up sighing and racking a hand through my hair. My worries passed from leaving my daughter in this place to leaving my daughter with this careless woman. Why had Kipps suggested this place?

“I just want my daughter to be safe” I muttered. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, then patted my shoulder in empathetic manner.

“It alright, that’s what every parent wants, but you’re making this place look like some kind of horror movie orphanage, and I think you’re scaring her” I looked down to my little Juniper. She was wearing her Sleeping Beauty dress, her favorite Disney princess, with little dress shoes and pink socks. Her hand was still in mine, gripping it tightly in her own seek for comfort.

“Well, I’ll leave you to say your goodbyes, class will start in a few minutes” Lucy turned around and walked out of the room, calling for the kids to get inside.

I kneeled down on the foamed ground and cupped my daughter’s cheeks, her tiny hands coming to my hands.

“Daddy loves you, ok?” I said as reassuring as I could manage. June nodded her head firmly “If anything happens, if you’re not comfortable or if someone’s not being nice with you, just tell someone to call me and I’ll be here to pick you right away, alright?” Again she nodded her little head “Be nice”

“I will, daddy” I hugged her tightly and covered her forehead in kisses, making her giggle adorably. To pull away from the hug was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it eventually had to end. I stood my full height and turned to the teacher once again.

“I’ll leave you my number so you can call me if my daughter needs anything” I said, still in a business manner, but she still looked as cool as if she was at the beach. Goddamit, what do I have to do to make this woman to understand that my daughter was no joke?! “Give me your number as well”

“All right” Lucy took a piece of paper and wrote her number there, accepting the work card I gave her in which I wrote my number “Try calling at 10:00 or 12:00, that’s when we have playtime and lunch, and if you want to call during afternoon, I’d say you do between 3:00 and 4:00, we do arts and crafts then and play outside. I can’t assure you I’ll always be able to pick up, but if I don’t, just call the school”

“Well, if Juniper needs anything and I can’t pick up, just call Lockwood and Co.; my secretary will get me”

“Oh, you’re a lawyer?” Now, this information usually worked when you wanted to make someone respect you or fear you, and that was what I wanted; for her to understand that I was not all smiles and jokes when it came to my daughter. However, she didn’t seem the slightly bit affected by that knowledge, and only smiled again “That’s great! Well, I’d love to keep chatting, but class is in session, so I have to ask you to leave”

With one last glance at my baby girl playing sitting with her blanky on her lap, I walked out of the classroom. Once I was back in my car, I sighed worriedly and allowed myself to cry a little. Only a little.

#lockwood and co #Anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george cubbins #holly munro #quill kipps #flo bones #kate godwin #bobby vernon #Lucy x lockwood #lockwood x lucy #locklyle #lucewood

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lucisfavoritedemon · 6 years

Text

Fate & Destiny: The Meeting

Pairing: Dean x Nelly

Characters: Dean Winchester, Nelly Charles, David Charles, John Winchester, Sam Winchester (mentioned), Mary Winchester (mentioned), Darryl Charles (mentioned), Bobby Singer (mentioned).

Summary: The day Dean and Nelly first met.

Warnings: Slow burn, fluffy child cuteness, mention of kidnapping, mention of death of parent.

Word Count: 1648

A/N: This is the first official part of Fate & Destiny. All mistakes are mine. Feel free to reblog and give feedback. I hope you enjoy

Fate & Destiny Masterlist

It was a stormy summer night in late May of the year 1992. More specifically it was May 21, 1992. It is the most important date in a little girl’s life. At first she dreaded the whole hunt because she really didn’t want to go for fear of a screaming fest between her father and this other hunter.

This may be just a date to most people, but to Nelly Charles it was the night her life changed forever. Though, at the time, she didn’t know it. She wanted it to be over with already so she didn’t have to endure the pain of hearing another hunter tell her that she didn’t belong.

Nelly Charles is eleven years old, born October 31, 1981 to an unknown mother, and David Charles. Nelly doesn’t know her mother because she disappeared 6 weeks after she was born, leaving her father to raise two children on his own. Her brother Darryl was born June 12, 1979, but went missing at the age of 9 leaving it just Nelly and her father.

Nelly was trained from the age of seven to throw knives, which by the age of eight was like a 30 year old professional who had been doing it their whole life. She also learned how to hunt with a bow, and shoot almost every type of gun in existence. Her dad taught her everything she knows and they grew closer because of it.

Traveling down the road in a beautiful silver 1967 El Camino. It was a two seater perfect for the father and daughter duo. Nelly was still nervous about this whole thing and David could clearly see the worry on his daughters face.

“Nelly sweetheart, what’s bothering you?” He was concerned about his daughter and wanted her in the right mindset so she wouldn’t get hurt.

“I just don’t want to hear another speech about how this life isn’t for me. I’m getting a little tired of hearing it.” She vocalized finally over the fact that she isn’t some little kid anymore.

“I know, but trust me John won’t say anything to you about that, you wanna know why?” he asked looking to Nelly for any indication that she was intrigued.

“Sure dad. Why don’t you tell me why another hunter won’t say that I’m too young to be hunting,” she sarcastically remarked.

“John is bringing his oldest son who is just two years older than you. Still pretty young to be hunting, so you have nothing to worry about. I promise though, if you still don’t want to hunt anymore after this, you just say the words and I won’t drag you around the country anymore, okay?” he reassured her, making her feel a little better about this. She still had some doubts, but was willing to do anything to prove she was mature enough to handle this.

They pulled up to a small run down motel on the side of the highway in River Falls, Wisconsin. A tiny town with a Wendigo problem, which is why they were here.

Her dad pulled into the spot farthest away from the door, that way if he needed to make a getaway for any reason they didn’t get his license plate numbers. Nelly was still having a hard time with working with other hunters. She liked it when it was just her and her dad. To be honest though she wanted out. She hated the life more than any hunter she’s met. She vowed herself that this was her last hunt, and that she would tell her father that she didn’t want this, that she wanted to be normal, and grow up to have a normal life.

“Nelly stay in the car please. I’ll be right back, but just in case stay here till I tell you okay?”

“Yes dad.”

Nelly, no matter how weird it seemed, she always did what her father told her. She respected him, but also wanted to make him proud.

Lost in thought, she didn’t notice someone had approached the drive side window. That is, until they spoke up.

“Hey there,” the boy spoke startling Nelly.

“Oh, hi. Who are you?” she kind of snapped.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I wanted to come say hi. Well I was told to sit on the curb, and I saw you sitting in here by yourself. I’m Dean by the way, Dean Winchester.” He extended his hand through the open window, and she took it hesitantly.

“It’s nice to meet you Dean. I’m Nelly Charles, and you didn't scare me. It takes a lot for someone to scare me.” She lied, but this would be the only time that she would ever lie to him again.

“It’s nice to meet Nell. It’s alright if I call you that right?”

“Of course.”

This wasn’t a lie, though all of her life she hated that nickname, but for whatever reason this Dean character was different.

Dean Winchester, born January 24, 1979 to John and Mary Winchester. When Dean was four his mother died in a horrible house fire. Ever since Dean had been taught how to hunt, and fend off anything that even remotely looked like a monster, to keep his brother Sam safe.

Dean wasn’t one to talk to strangers, and this would be his first hunt with his dad. Sam would be with Bobby at this time while they were hunting. Dean would never count this as his first hunt though.

“Want to come sit out here with me?” Dean offered.

She thought about it, but remembered what her father said, “sorry I can’t my dad told me to stay here till he told me otherwise, and I’m not about to disobey him for someone I just met. No offense.”

“It’s okay. I get it, so why don’t I stay here with you then, and keep you company until your dad says it’s okay to get out.” He offered opening the driver side door, and started to climb in.

“I’d like that actually.”

And there they sat for an hour and a half talking about nonsense and making a promise to always have moments like this whenever they saw each other again.

David called to Nelly telling her that it was okay for her to get out of the car so they could unload. Like always she did what she was told. Dean looked to her, smiled, then got out of the driver's side door. This did not please her dad, but he let it go.

~*~

The entire time Dean and Nelly were left in the motel by themselves, giving them a chance to get to know each other even more.

"So what's the real story behind you becoming a hunter?" Dean asked Nelly wanting to know her more than he did.

"My brother disappeared when I was 7, and my dad didn't think that his disappearance was natural.”

"Why's that?"

"He was taken from our bedroom on the second floor of our house."

"Yeah that doesn't sound natural." Dean responded giving her a small smile.

"Now enough about me how'd you get into the life?" Nelly asked curious about Dean's life.

"I usually don't like to talk about it, but when my brother and I were young we lost our mom in a house fire, but our dad didn't believe it was what the firemen were saying."

"Well I know you probably don't want to hear this, but I'm sorry for your loss."

This should've made Dean mad, he didn’t like people to pity him. He thought it made him look weak, but it made him feel good that someone actually cared, and understood what he was going through. It made him feel good that someone felt bad for everything he's been through.

"You know no one has ever said that let alone cared that much before. So thank you for saying that, and also sorry for your loss. Losing a parent is one thing, but losing a sibling is something else. I don't know what I would do if I lost Sammy."

"I mean it was a loss, but he was a totally different person leading up to his disappearance.”

“That’s really sad. Not just for you, but your dad as well. It must have been really hard on you.”

“It was at first, but because of this dad and I have grown closer than we’ve ever been. I didn’t really have a good relationship with him up until Darryl disappeared. It’s sad to say, but it’s true.”

“Yeah it really is. I’m glad you and your dad have a good relationship though, even though it took you losing your brother for it to happen.”

This was a majority of their conversations, but the more they talked the less Nelly wanted to get out of the life, and in a way this was a good thing for her to make more friends to keep her going.

~*~

The day of departure was one of Nelly’s hardest days. She wanted to get to know Dean even more than what she did. This was the hunt she would never forget. They both would never forget it.

In a week they both would be in different parts of the country; Nelly and David would be in Texas hunting a poltergeist, and Dean and John would be at Bobby’s trying to catch a new case. John would be going on the case and sick the boys on Bobby so he could teach them the practicalities of becoming a true hunter.

They would never forget each other though no matter how far apart they were. They were connected on a level they both have never felt before. It was weird and wonderful for them to have this new profound bond with someone who knows exactly what they have to go through. It makes them an even more perfect pair.

Fate & Destiny Taglist:

@atc74 @bella-ca @ericaprice2008 @mirandaaustin93 @snffbeebee

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bullybyulyi · 7 years

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#7 - au

one more happy ending au! this drama is hilarious and i’ve wanted to do this for a while. this is just loosely based off the first episode. if there’s enough interest in this i might turn it into it’s own story :^)

How dare he. How DARE he! She wasted two good years of her life on that man and he had the nerve the audacity to propose to another woman right in front of her eyes. Okay, maybe she was a bit prettier, but Yongsun had a shining personality! And a successful career in front of her, and a hot body, and a cute dog, and!

God, how depressing. Yongsun stares out into the ocean and fingers the 8.5 million won pearl necklace he had gotten for her on their first anniversary. Today was their second. She had driven all the way out to the seaside hotel where he was head chef to surprise him and instead the spineless bastard was one knee down in front of an (admittedly) extremely beautiful woman.

Honestly, she didn’t look that happy either, but when Yongsun started redirecting her anger at the woman her weasel of an ex pushed her, physically pushed her away and said “You’ll stress out the baby.”

A fucking baby, he said. With the same fucking mouth that just last night not 18 hours ago he had told Yongsun he loved her.

“That RAT BASTARD!” Yongsun felt all her rage well up inside her again and the hand that was gently caressing the pearls ripped the necklace over her head and flung it straight into the tide.

Wait.

“Oh my god. Oh my god oh mygodohmygod-“ Yongsun stared at waves swallowing up her 8.5 million won. She was too stunned to move, arm still outstretched as if maybe time would rewind and her fingers wouldn’t have let go.

No. No you know what? This is fine. This is just fine. The necklace has no meaning to her. He’s dead in her eyes so what does she care if she just tossed his expensive as hell gift into the ocean. Screw him and screw the necklace and screw that woman and no, not screw the baby, babies are innocent.

She didn't care about it.

But if she really didn’t care, she would pawn the necklace off and get 8.5 million won and she could buy her happiness and her two years of wasted time back. A shopping spree would make her feel better. She could buy Jjing Jjing more sweaters.

Screw it, she’s getting that stupidly expensive necklace back.

Heels and jacket come flying off as Yongsun runs headlong into the October waves.

Byulyi sipped on her coffee and checked the view from the café. Nice, very nice. A prominent hotel reviewer, Moon Byulyi had come to this well managed establishment to give it the four stars it deserved. Only four, because the restaurant food was pretty overhyped. A shame, really. It was her last day there, so she’d decided to draft up a review in the café while soaking in the lovely sight of the ocean while she could.

Today, it seemed, had a lovelier view than yesterday. A woman was standing, staring wistfully at the shoreline. Even from afar Byulyi could tell she was beautiful. Her long brown hair was blown back by the ocean breeze and she had her hand clutched to her chest. How dramatic, Byulyi thought, but she couldn’t really blame her. The scenery looked like it could be used as a backdrop for some drama.

Byulyi looked back at her half-finished draft. She’d hope to get it done here while everything was still fresh in front of her, but it was creeping towards evening and the drive home was two hours long. She wasn’t about to have dinner at the overpriced restaurant, where she’s pretty sure the only reason the chef was so reputable was because he’s handsome and young.

Well, one last look at the beautiful woman before she packs up and leaves. She looks out the window just in time to see the woman strip and run headlong into the waves.

Byulyi drops everything and bolts.

Yongsun’s neck deep in the blue and she’s just about had it. The salt from the ocean is mixing with the salt from her tears and it’s definitely because she’s just frustrated about losing 8.5 million won and definitely not because a man she thought she loved and loved her back dropped her like she wasn’t even worth 8.5 micro won.

“Agh, that dick!” She plunges back into the ocean again, if only to feel the crisp water against her face.

When she resurfaces, there wild splashing that’s definitely not coming from her and a voice that sounds like it’s trying to be reassuring. It’s not. Whoever is splashing in the water behind her sounds like they’re about to drown. She turns around to see maybe the dumbest mermaid in the world. Definitely a mermaid, with a pointed jaw and sharp eyes, and hair that shone a million shades of deep blue in the golden light of the sun. Definitely dumb, because she was about to drown herself in less than a meter and a half of water.

Yongsun had lost hope of finding the necklace quite a while ago, and really she was just in the water to calm down, but now she had to pull this fool out of the water. Just her day.

She swam over to the woman who was still wildly try to splash towards her, and once she was in arms reach she felt the lady wrap her arms tightly around her neck and cling on for dear life.

“You’re okay! You’re alright!” She shouted, frantic and hyperventilating in Yongsun’s ear.

“I’m fine!” She shouted back and dragged them both back to shore.

Once they had stumbled safely out of the reach of the waves, the strange woman collapsed on the bank, not caring about sand getting on her everywhere.

“Are you alright?” Yongsun peered down at her, only a little suspiciously, because she looked harmless enough but you couldn’t be normal to just jump in the ocean like that.

“I’m,” She sat up and coughed hard, “I’m alright.” She took a couple of deep breaths before looking up at Yongsun. “You can really swim.” She smiled in awe.

“And you really can’t.” She smiled back. Yongsun didn’t know what it was, but she was already liking this person. Maybe it was just nice to be treated kindly after the day she had. The thought reminds her of everything that did happen, and she turns to gaze out into the ocean again, thinking of the things she’d lost.

“It’s not worth it.” The woman next to her said softly.

“What?” What was she talking about? 8.5 million won was definitely worth it.

“Your life. Please don’t just throw it away like that.”

“My-What? No no, you’ve got it completely wrong. I…” She bit her lip. “I…lost something in there.”

The woman looks shocked at her explanation, and the suddenly bursts into laughter. “You run into ocean in the middle of October for some thing?”

Yongsun feels hot shame on her neck from being laughed at by a stranger. “Well what about you! Why are you chasing after people into the water when you can’t even swim!”

The woman halts her giggles but the laughter stays in her eyes and Yongsun has a second to think that she likes the way they twinkle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at you.” She reaches out and takes Yongsun’s hand and looks her in the eyes and the intimacy of it all makes Yongsun blush. “Whatever thing you lost isn’t worth it either. Someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t be running into cold oceans.”

Yongsun blinks at the compliment but the corners of her mouth tug down. “Not even 8.5 million won?”

The woman visibly cringes, mirroring Yongsun’s grimace. She fixes her expression though, and grips Yongsun’s hand tighter. “No, not anymore. 8.5 billion wouldn’t be worth it. You should forget about it, and you should forget about him too.”

Yongsun flinches at how she’d been seen right through. “That easy to tell?”

The woman smiles and tucks one of Yongsun’s seaweed-looking hair strands behind her ear. “I may have heard you yell ‘that dick’ after I jumped in the water after you.”

Yongsun sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “This is embarrassing.”

“For you and me both, beautiful.” The other woman grins. She’s surprising easygoing for someone who just had their day dumped in cold water, literally. Yongsun coughs away the blush forming on her cheeks.

“I have a name, you know.”

“What a coincidence! I have one too.” She grins and uses both hands to hold Yongsun’s now. “Moon Byulyi, professional drowner, at your service.” She daintily shakes their hands.

Yongsun feels laughter bubbling up her chest and it lifts the weights off her shoulders. “Kim Yongsun, conveniently licensed lifeguard.”

“Wow! It’s like we were made for each other!” Byulyi grins teasingly. Yongsun normally hates cheesy remarks, but Byulyi is somehow so charming, she can’t be bothered.

Byulyi is still cupping her palm, looking into her eyes, and Yongsun thinks it must be because of the cold water that makes her hands feel so warm.

#moonbyul #solar #moonsun #mamamoo fanfiction #sapphic september #ff #i'm haven't slept yet so it's not tomorow yet #i'm dying #ty as always for reading #one more happy ending au

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elfnerdherder · 7 years

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Ill Intentions: Chapter 11

You can read Chapter 11 on Ao3 Here

Check out my Patreon and join the squad! Early updates, character arcs, and whatever else you could desire.

Chapter 11: Character Arcs

The apartment was soon reduced to a chaotic, shambled mess.

A few cups had chipped and shattered as Will decimated the kitchen, and the trash had been overturned in his haste to hunt through the pantry. Towels laid in desolate piles across the hallway, and dresser drawers had been overturned and upended in his haste.

Will sat huddled in the wake of a flipped mattress and abused Wal-Mart sheets, shaking hands grasping a note written in an elegant, beautiful, and furiously familiar hand.

Dear Will,

I am interested to see just how your world turns when you don’t have an electronic device to dictate every aspect of your life. Will it slow to a stop, marked only by a rising and setting sun, or will you retaliate in a blind fury, unable to stop the quickness of your pulse?

I’m eager to see the messages and reminders you have programmed to light up on this screen. The battery life on these, I’m told, are incredible.

-Chesapeake Ripper

He could hear his voice in those words. Will reread it enough times that it began to echo in his mind, frantic and furious with the all-knowing arrogance of it. The bastard had even put it in the sock drawer, where a familiar and not entirely welcome knife once lay.

“No,” he murmured, and he felt himself rocking a bit, side-to-side to try and ground himself rather than start screaming. “No, no, no, no…”

He set the note down on a pile of disheveled shirts, and he let out a croaking gasp. He had the urge to scream, to yell. He had the urge to pace, bellow, to rage, and he contained it all within himself as he started tapping his fingers on the ground, the sound hard and punctuated with the beat of his pulse.

His phone rang, and Will snatched it up from among a spilled glass of water and the remnants of a dead plant that’d fallen from the windowsill. He’d have to sweep it up later, along with the rest of his things he’d reduced to shards in his furious haste.

“Hello?” he asked. It was breathy, needing –God, why did he have to sound so hopeful that it was the Ripper, there to gloat then inevitably return his watch?

“Where the hell are you?” Beverly hissed. “You’d better be in a hospital –you’re not in a hospital, are you?”

Fuck.

“I’m…not feeling well, Beverly,” Will said hollowly. “I don’t think I should come in today.”

“Seriously? Haven’t you seen the news?”

“Is that a joke?”

“Dead serious, if you’re not on your way here, you’d better turn the news on. Work is hell right now, hell, and there are cops, feds…shit, other news vans…”

Will managed to drag himself to his feet where he made his way to the living room. The TV had been shoved to the side so violently that it teetered on the end of the stand. He nudged it to safety and sat down in front of it, skimming through channels until he could find the local news. Teeth gnashed against his bottom lip, breaking skin. His wrist felt bare, far too light.

“…and here now we’re standing just in front of Tattler News where you can see beyond the police line the body of a young man that authorities are now recognizing as Harrison Nolan, an up-and-coming member of the Baltimore Symphony. This is reminiscent of the recent murder of another young musician, Billy Nguyen who was found on the stage of the Baltimore Symphony with the neck of a cello placed down the victim’s throat.”

Will’s heart plummeted to a sickening squelch in his guts.

“Although partitions and canvases are being placed to block the view of onlookers, you can still see the victim has been found much the same way as before. Is this a promise of something more to come? Is there another serial killer in the midst of the DC area, looking to upstage the Ripper? Has the Ripper’s correspondence with Tattler News reduced him to something ‘mainstream’?”

“Shit,” Will murmured. In the distance, just beyond the reporter’s shoulder, he could barely make out a man slumped into a simple-backed chair, head tilted back to give way for the neck of a cello that burst from his mouth.

“Do you think it’s the Ripper?” Beverly asked. It took far too long for him to focus on her voice rather than the image before him. It cut back to the woman, and he blinked rapidly, dispelling it from his retinas.

“No, he…”

He’s playing a different game.

“This isn’t his style,” he said instead, quietly. “I think this is someone else that wants to be in the column.”

“Charlie’s asking where you are. What the hell do you want me to tell him?”

That took Will far too long to answer as well. The image in front of him cut to the crime scene from before, when the first body had been found on stage. He stared at it for several moments, mouth dry, wondering at the still image of the neck of the cello sprouting from a gaping mouth as though it were coming to full bloom.

“Will?”

He gave a start and looked away from the image. As it cut back to the woman’s white noise of fear-mongering, he shut off the TV and rubbed his face, resolute.

“I’ll be there in a bit…I have to get ready. My alarm didn’t go off.”

“Seriously?” Beverly bit out a snort. “Better have a better excuse than that when you get here. He’s pissed.”

Will hung up and sat on the floor of his apartment for several more minutes before he could pull himself to his feet. The skin on his wrist felt odd, and he itched it as he gathered together a suitable outfit and choked down a cup of coffee.

It wasn’t until halfway to work that he realized he’d forgotten to grab his water bottle. He thought about going back, but traffic was such that it’d be an entirely new ordeal altogether that he wasn’t precisely prepared for. He’d have to rely on work coolers, then.

He almost missed his stop on the bus, and he only realized it was there when the old woman beside him shoved and nudged him far enough away for her to walk out. He gave a start at the realization of where he was at, and he followed after her, an uncomfortable prickle down his neck.

“You’re not following me, are you?” the old woman asked.

He looked away from the distant street corner he would turn at and stared at her for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

“Because if you are, I’ve got mace. I’ll mace yeh,” she informed him.

“I’m going to work.”

She eyed him with extreme prejudice –likely his wrinkled shirt. His hair, too, he supposed, seeing as how he was now just realizing that he’d forgotten to brush it. It was quite the contrast to her own perfectly ironed shirt tucked into pants hiked up high at her hips –remnants of the good old days when gas was only twenty-five cents a gallon and a milkshake was a nickel. He likely looked the type to try and pickpocket someone, in her eyes. A mildly desperate expression, right hand twitching towards his left like he could find his watch there if he just fucking tried hard enough.

Oh, god. His watch. His fucking watch.

“Alright, then. Be quick about it.”

“Alright,” he said, and he took a dramatic step around her before he hurried on his way. He pitied the idiot that decided to try and mug someone like her –that pity faded as he figured they’d likely deserve it if they cased someone like that out and thought she’d be an easy target.

He had to fight through the crowd to get to the front, and more than a few elbows nestled into his gut as he skirted around them all. Their breaths and BO clung to him, and when he reached the front he nearly bowled over an officer that stepped just before him to stop him.

“I work here, this is-”

“ID, please,” the man said.

Will fished out his wallet and handed over his license, eyes scanning for Beverly. A cluster of news vehicles cramped up the public parking, and cameras were wildly swinging across the crowd, then towards the partitions that blocked the view of the body.

“No, your badge for the press,” he said impatiently.

“Yeah,” Will snapped impatiently, “it’s-”

Right here, he finished mentally, although the words didn’t come. His hand pressed to the place on his chest where his lanyard would hang, if he had it.

If he’d fucking remembered it from home.

“Behind the line, then,” the officer decided. Will could almost smell his smug superiority as he sauntered away to push back a few people testing the line, and the urge to lunge out at him coiled, ready to spring. It was a sudden wave of emotion, hot and volcanic in its fury, and it surprised him as he stood, puzzled beside a chatty millennial that was glued to her phone.

“Yeah, I can’t get inside to work because of this freak show, and my boss is going to kill me if I…”

Her words faded, though, as he struggled to turn the sudden emotions about in his hands, wrestle them into something manageable. The officer was just doing his job, Will decided. He was just doing his job, and anyone that wanted a closer look at a dead body would say whatever they could if it meant that they could get just close enough to maybe poke it with a stick once or twice. Stephen King had made a novel about something much like that –a group of boys that poked a dead body with a stick.

Serial killers must be Stephen King’s muse, too.

It took far too long for him to turn his feelings into something logical. Half of him longed to rush after the man, grab him, and snap his neck. The other half turned the idea about of him just staying home for the day. He could turn around and just go home, lock himself in his bedroom with a fifth of Jack and call it a fucking day.

“I’d say something, but honestly anything revolving around you is hard to be surprised by anymore.”

Jack Crawford’s voice listed across the foggy aspects of his thoughts, turned about as they were with the feeling of what the officer’s pulse would feel like in his palm as he squeezed. Will blinked once, then rapidly; he clung to the sound of professional weariness, and he looked up from his shoe in order make some sort of paltry eye contact with Jack. He swallowed heavily and wished that he’d remembered a water bottle. It’d sat in the back of his cabinets for so long that it’d collected dust, but now that he’d found it…

Something else to blame the Chesapeake Ripper for, then. His water would taste like the sun-abused shit in Charlie’s office by the time he got home.

“I forgot my press badge,” he said.

“…Come on,” Jack grunted, and he lifted the tape for Will.

As they passed by the officer who was busy answering questions to an irate woman, Will ensured that he made eye contact of a sort with the man. A smug, self-satisfied smile crept across his lips, and it twisted to a sneer as the cop realized just who it was he’d held back from entering. He glanced from Will to Jack, then back to Will; that Will Graham, he was fast realizing. That God damn, Will Graham.

“One of yours said that I should haul you in for questioning on this one,” Jack said as they ascended the steps.

“Todd from Marketing?”

“Yeah, I think name was Todd.”

Todd has a cocaine problem, he wanted to say. How about you go and grab the squealer’s stash before you bring me in for this?

It wasn’t the time, though, to throw Todd under the bus. He may need him for more paper analysis or something else mundane and detailed that he didn’t want to do, consumed as he was with his work.

“Todd hates marketing,” he said instead. “And me.”

“I supposed that if you were to start your own killing spree, you wouldn’t put the body on your front doorstep,” Jack assured him. “You seem a little too smart for that.”

There was that. As they skirted the partitions and Will got a full view of the body without the trouble of distance from a news station, he felt something much akin to relief that Jack didn’t find him entirely capable of this.

“…This wouldn’t be my design,” he murmured.

“Thank God for that,” Jack replied.

“This the kind of thing your boss had in mind when he started ‘Will Intentions’?” A guy asked, head popping up from around the body. It wasn’t Jimmy, and that minor change shook him down to his core, made words dry up in his mouth because first the watch, then his water, then his badge, and who in the world was this son-of-a-bitch? Why was everything suddenly changing?

“This isn’t good press,” Jack said.

“Any press is good press,” Will managed hoarsely. “That’s news for you.”

“Well this guy was pressed for time,” the man said, and he stood up. His mouth was obscured by a cloth mask, although unruly, curly dark hair poked up from a headpiece of the same material. A kind attempt at not contaminating the crime scene. “He’s fresher than the last one. The killer probably didn’t want it stinking up anything.”

“The last one?”

“Found in Baltimore just two weeks ago –Billy Nguyen.” The man eyed Will much the same way that the old woman had, as though he could see Will’s worth beneath his plaid button-up and found him wanting.

“You don’t think they’re from the Chesapeake Ripper, do you?” Will asked Jack.

“It’s on your doorstep,” the man interjected. Will ignored him.

“I didn’t at first, but unless you’ve got more crazies climbing out of the woodwork for you, I think it’s highly likely,” Jack said. “Unless you’ve got another idea?”

Will had several ideas, but none of them sounded stable enough to share. He frowned and glanced back to the body.

“Could I…” he looked to Jack, then back to the body. Could he see? Could he look at this the same way he stared at Mary Mai and see?

Jack stared at him, and Will had an uneasy ripple down his spine at the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Jack could see, too.

“Brian,” Jack said, and something on his face made Will’s stomach flop. “If you’ll step out of here with me for a minute.”

“Jack,” Brian needled.

“Come on.”

The apparent Brian didn’t enjoy being shifted from his work, and it showed in his face. The incredulous expression twisted, then cracked somewhat as he gave Will the most accusing and understanding expression of disdain that he’d ever witnessed. He skirted the body and Will, then stalked from the tent with the beginnings of his rant starting with, “Jack, seriously, a civilian…?”

Will ignored it, though. His fingers reached for the watch on his wrist that he knew wouldn’t be there, and he sighed.

The body was older than a few days; it didn’t reek so much of decay as it did chemicals. Will circled it, studying the way that the wooden neck of the cello burst from his mouth, lips curled to reveal the artistry beneath. If he’d been wearing gloves, he’d have taken fingers to it, caressed it as he wondered at its purpose –

-No, no, the purpose was obvious, wasn’t it? The musician wanted to play. This was his magnum opus.

The throat was open, peeled back with efficiency, although there was a bit of classic showmanship in the way that it was pinned in place with pearl-tipped pins. The white, bleached strings at his throat turned out to be vocal chords, though in truth Will only recognized it by the thickness of them –normally they weren’t so white, were they? No, no…no. Blood had dripped onto the suit, speckled bits of red like burst holly on freshly fallen snow. The cold, even within the partitions, was biting. It was going to snow, soon. It was going to snow, and the Chesapeake Ripper had his fucking watch.

“You wanted to play him,” Will murmured, and it made so much sense. His throat was dry, and he swallowed, imagining the sort of music that would burst from someone like this, become from someone like this. He took a musician, and he made his very skin, his very bones into an instrument to play for the masses. A true arrogance, to take one so talented and make him your own toy to play at your leisure. He wondered what sort of thoughts pervaded the mind of someone that wondered the notes they could draw forth from the neck of the dead.

Nothing tasty, surely.

Will closed his eyes, and there was a flash of light that turned his lids pink –likely a reporter in the distance trying to get a good photo. He inhaled, and the taste was on his tongue, the scent of whatever had bleached his vocal chords stung his nose, and just in the distance, Will swore that he could hear the sort of music that would make tears come to even the hardiest of men’s eyes.

It would be mellow –something along the D-string, fingers fretting over the vibrato. Will swayed to the sound of it, the crooning lilt that made his bones vibrate, and he imagined the care it must have taken to lay him out so kindly, to share such art with the world –

-Art? Surely, in this man’s eyes, it was art. But for Will, too?

“Will?”

It wasn’t his name that pulled him from the sound, the sensation that sent goosebumps along his arms. It was more the tone, he supposed, and how it didn’t mesh in the least with F-Harmonic notes that settled deep like the ache of overworked muscles. He looked to the entrance of the tent where Jack was busy observing him, and he supposed that out of any time to be caught not quite ‘all there’ this wasn’t a good one.

“This isn’t an act of anger,” he said, and he cleared his throat to relieve the hoarseness from it. “Not at all.”

“He isn’t punishing the musician?” Jack snorted. “Seems like jealousy to me.”

“No, no, it’s –” Will scowled and rubbed at his mouth, swallowing down a foul word “–elevation, Jack, he’s…elevating them. They’re probably good musicians, aren’t they? First chairs, second chairs…he’s taking them, and he’s making them more. He’s making their music something that comes from within, something…”

He clenched at the air, grasping for the words that didn’t want to come easily. Jack stood by the entryway, patiently impatient as he waited.

“He’s… making them more than what they are,” Will finished lamely. “Taking the core of what brings their happiness, and taking that art and passion and ingraining it into their skin. That’s what he’s doing.”

Jack nodded and looked to the man, mulling a few thoughts around his head as he thought. It left Will feeling anxious. His watch didn’t buzz to tell him that he’d better take a walk through the office –is that what he’d be doing right now? He made a move to check the time, then hissed out a curse when he realized once more that it wasn’t fucking there.

“His intestines are missing,” Jack revealed. “Are you sure this isn’t the Chesapeake Ripper, Will?”

“Yeah, Jack, this…this is different. The Chesapeake Ripper isn’t so much a man succumbing to intrusive thoughts –this feels intrusive. Thoughts that pervade the mind until…” He gestured lamely to the corpse. The cello. The art. “And I’d say it’s here because he probably wants his name in the column, too.”

“Are you going to give him that satisfaction?”

“…No. One too many psychos, I think.”

“One too many psychos,” Jack echoed.

He was let go after he sighed a few things, and he headed into the office with an odd, lingering sound just at the edge of his hearing, like the haunting vibrato of a cello’s wavering song.

He tried to banish it, shove it to the far back of his mind where it could lay to rot and wither like his other tasteless thoughts, but there seemed to be a genuine lack of control. His thoughts leapt with short, electric burst, rapid sensations like the quick blinks of his eyelids, watering at the gust of AC that hit him as he walked by the lobby desk: the cop, the watch, the music, the throat, the cello, the need, the violence, the fury, the feel of the Ripper’s blade against his stomach, the putrid muck that fed through his veins like a poison because it’s no wonder you can relate to someone like this, considering your own tasteless, horrendous penchant for violence.

“Will, there you are –come on; are you coming?”

It wasn’t Beverly that yanked him unceremoniously from his thoughts, but Freddie. Just inside the elevator, she swung a checkered arm out to hold the door for him.

“Charlie is having a field day, you know,” she said as he stepped into the elevator. It chimed shut and shuddered before lifting. “Where the hell were you?”

“…I lost my watch,” he said. It sounded far more blank than morose, an odd feeling attached to it –confusion and disbelief rather than anger.

“Your watch?”

“It wakes me up in the morning,” he explained. “I don’t know where I left it.”

Freddie eyed him with extreme prejudice. It was reminiscent of the woman on the bus and Bryan poised beside the corpse, and it made a trickle of anger slither up his throat and lodge itself just at the back of his mouth. He had to resist the urge to spit it out at her.

“That out there him?” she asked.

“No. Someone else, someone…”

Someone that really shouldn’t be my problem right now.

Freddie laughed, sparing him the elongated, pregnant pause. “Wow, Graham, you’re really shook up. Did your grandma buy you that watch or something?”

The elevator dinged onto their floor.

“I never knew my grandma.”

“Okay.” She gave him another sidelong stare. “Just letting you know, Charlie’s-”

“Pissed, I’m late, there’s a dead guy on the steps outside, my watch is gone, and-”

“-waiting for you in the conference room,” Freddie finished. “Someone else is there to see you.”

That stopped him. Will turned towards the conference room rather than Charlie’s office, and he spared Freddie a confused, uncomfortable look.

“Yeah, someone’s in there to see you,” she said, and her mouth of secrets twisted into something akin to a smile. “See, not all bad.”

Not all bad, she said. Could still be somewhat bad, somewhat…

Just who in the hell would want to see him?

“I’ll go see to that, then,” he said distractedly, and he headed towards the conference room.

“Thank you,” Freddie prompted.

“You’re welcome,” Will replied.

He didn’t hesitate by the door because that would be cliché –Will Graham wasn’t much a person for such things as that. Instead, he walked right in with his shoulders hunched, his messenger bag digging into his collarbone, and his tie bunched up, half-hanging out of his coat –this he only realized when he saw a faint, faded reflection of himself in the windowpane across from him. He stared at that image of himself: glasses crooked, clothing rumpled, hands bunched to fists in his pockets. His reflection was more of the person that he generally tried to present at Tattler news; something innocent to be trusted and left well enough alone. He wondered how his colleagues would have described him, hunched over their keyboards with the pressure of deadlines on their back.

Something much like that reflection, he supposed. Nothing at all like the reality of himself. Nothing at all like what the Chesapeake Ripper was trying so desperately to reveal to the world.

“Will,” Charlie grunted. He stood from his chair at the head of the table, and the look he gave Will could have melted steel beams. “Glad you could make it.”

“…Rough morning,” Will managed after a beat. “Sorry,” he tacked on hastily.

“Well, you’re here. So is your guest.” Charlie gestured off to the side, although the look on his face barely softened. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Whatever lecture Will had been expecting wasn’t to happen, it seemed. Charlie excused himself from the room, nudging and shoving past Will who hadn’t managed to leave the doorway. Fight or flight instinct, he supposed. He needed an exit close.

It took too long for him to see her there, hunched back towards the small AV station where the TV and work videos rested, collecting dust. She was a thin, slight girl with classically straight brunette hair and pale skin found in most rural, mid-American homes. She turned to look at him only after Charlie had left, and although her clothes were plain, they seemed to be a sturdy, expensive make.

“Hello, Mr. Graham,” she said, and despite the watery, uncertain stance, her voice came out strong and sound. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Who are you?”

She smiled. “I didn’t expect you to recognize me, although I recognized you immediately. My name is Abigail Hobbs.”

A special, lovely thanks to my Patrons: Emily Elm, Matilda, Starlit-Catastrophe, Sylarana, Heather Feather, Frosty Lee, Duhaunt6, and Superlurk! You’re the best!

#LiaS scribbles #ill intentions #hannibal #hannibal au #hannibal fanfic #hannigram #slowburn hannigram #journalist!will #someone help will graham #find his god damn watch

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sunset-wishes-upon-hill · 7 years

Text

Scent Chapter 2 (Previously known as Human Scent - Batman FF)

She wondered just how a person like Jonathan Crane didn’t lose his license. She might not have had any professional training on counseling, but she was sure some of the things he said or acted during their session were unethical. He loved intimidating her and focusing on her ‘fear’ that held her to the place she was in. She had asked after their first session if she could opt out on the counseling sessions or at least changes her therapist. Emma, although good-hearted and meant well, Anne knew she probably thought her ungrateful with the way she seemed to throw away the help that many people in her situation could not afford.

His probing seemed to worsen; its intensity was becoming increasingly disturbing. It was as if he was singling her out of many people within the hostel for his own sadistic amusement. She wished she could leave the hostel, that way she won’t be pressured into these counseling sessions which was only prolonging her pain.

Many times she wondered if she should just jump in front of the train or jump down from the highest building she could find because she knew she probably won’t ever go back to her world and if that was the fact, then she didn’t want to live anymore; but there was a small hope – futile as it may be – that maybe, just maybe, if she waited out, she can somehow, by whatever miracle, get back to her world. It was thoughts like that prevented her from making that jump. Or cut.

But her memories of her life back in her world were fading; an elusive dream now. Her crying episodes weren’t getting any better and she decided to set out and get back her stolen wallet. She didn’t care if he kept everything he took, as long as he was willing to hear her out and at least give back the family picture she had in her wallet. That’s all she wanted. All she needed.

With Emma’s permission and curfew set to 6 P.M, she headed out of the hostel. Anne made sure she memorized any outstanding building near the hostel, wrote the hostel address on her palm in case she lose track and repeated the directions she took.

Trying to memorise the direction she took while trying to remember where Emma said she was found was really trying her memory. She became lost a few times but she worked up the courage to stop a local-looking passing-by pedestrian to ask for the direction. The hostel was situated in The Narrows, the worst and crime-riddled part of Gotham. It was a side of large, wealthy city that the famously rich and privileged wanted hidden and under the radar from their little bubble wrapped world.

When she did arrive at her ‘home’, it had already been staked a claim by another rough sleeper who treated her with hostility at the potential threat to his now home. She understood his protectiveness of his home and so left him in peace after a brief questioning and vague answers. The man that assaulted her, she remembered, made his way down and she followed the very same rocky path, making sure to carefully examine the alleys and hidden corners.

Anne’s stomach rumbled and her legs muscles twitched in protest for rest as exhaustion took over. She had no idea how long she walked but she couldn’t find the man she only had a brief glimpse to. It was probably over 6 P.M too. She toppled against the wall, burying her face in her arms and letting out wail at the injustice she’s been given. She didn’t know what she did to deserve this punishment, certainly there were much more people out there that deserved this than a girl with low paying job living the life to the best she could.

“Anne?” She heard a familiar voice from the distance.

Anne’s head jerked up slightly at the sound of her name, but she pretended she was trying to shift her head to a more comfortable position when her brain matched the voice to the face.

“Anne, I know you heard me.” He had taken to forgo the formality during their second session, because he knew just how much he bothered her with using her given name with such familiarity.

She wiped away the tears with her hoodie sleeves and gathered the courage to look up.

He smirked as his eyes met her blood shot eyes, “What are you doing out here so late? It’s unsafe.”

She stood up, dusting the dirt from her jeans, “I just came out for a fresh air. I’m going back.”

“It’s late and dangerous for a lone woman to walk all the way back to the hostel, Anne.” He said, “Get in the car, I’ll drop you off.”

“No.” She said it too quickly.

“Anne, you’re safer with me than you are out there.”

She doubted that. “I’m fine.”

“Anne.” His voice grew hard and cold, lined with irritation, “Get in, or I’ll make you.”

Don’t let him control you, the voice said to her. She began to walk the opposite direction his expensive car was facing. She could hear the car moving and screeching to a halt as it made a harsh U-turn before speeding slightly to stop at few feet in front of her.

The psychiatrist stepped out of the car and opened his passenger door before approaching frightened Anne. She stepped back as he stepped forward, then his arm lurched out and caught hers’ in harsh grip.

“Anne, get in the car. Listen to your therapist.”

“I don’t want you as my freakin therapist!” Her protest was weak and futile against the man’s naturally superior physical strength as he effortlessly dragged her onto the passenger seat, buckled her seat belt, tightening it taut in warning and shut the door and made his way to his own seat.

“Now, Anne, we’ve been making great progression. You need my help.” He reasoned, buckling his own belt.

Anne buried her face in her hands, wishing the man would just disappear into oblivion. Then sound of shuffling, and he was speaking on someone over the phone.

“Hello, Emma? This is Dr. Jonathan Crane,” He paused, seemingly letting the woman over the phone speak, “I have Anne here with me, I’ve found her lost in the street…yes, she’s safe. I’ll drop her off at the centre.” He pressed the end call button and tucked his phone inside his suit.

“Can you tell me why you were here out so late?”

Anne took the time to compose herself before she said anything – at least in front of him she had to think before speaking.

“I-I was just looking for my stolen wallet.”

“And you thought going around the dangerous street, alone, was a good idea?”

“I..I just wanted my wallet back.”

“And you weren’t afraid something..unpleasant might happen to you?”

“I just want my wallet back.”

“What’s in the wallet that is so important to you?”

“My family photos.”

His car stopped in front of an unfamiliar building, not the shelter he told Emma he’d drop her off at. Anne’s breath hitched and her hands on her laps felt clammy with sweat.

“Where are we?”

“You haven’t had dinner right? I thought it’d be better if I give you back to Emma with full stomach than an empty one. Besides,” He checked his watch, “The dinner time is over back in the centre.”

“I’m not hungry.” She adamantly said, then her stomach growled as soon as it left her lips and she could not believe out of all possible situation, her body decide to betray her in utmost possible cliché way.

“Perhaps in your mind, but your body says otherwise.” He tilted his head to her stomach, “My treat.”

By the time Anne came back to her senses, she was sitting on the dinning bench as he ordered the food for her. She really didn’t know what made her such an amusing toy out of others. It was clear he was toying with her.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” He questioned while maintaining that cryptic smile, eyes darkening.

“I said I don’t need any help, but you keep on forcing me to attend the sessions.” She answered, although it was a very indirect way of responding to his question.

“Some needs persuading.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need counseling; I don’t need you.”

“I’m the psychiatrist here, Anne,” Reminding her, with emphasis on that single word, to remind her of her standing, “I’m only doing what’s best for you.”

“And forcing me to partake in something I don’t want to do is ethical?” She retorted, eyes narrowing in challenge.

“Sometimes, under certain circumstances with certain patients, ethicality must be bent for the sake of their well-being. I, as your therapist, am bound to that duty.”

“I’m not crazy; I can think clearly!” She slammed on the table, earning worried glances from the servers. They were the only patron in the small diner and when she caught his subtle insinuation, she had lost some of her composure. She wasn’t crazy, she was just confused and alone and scared and frightened by what she was going through. Who wouldn’t be, right? If they found themselves transported into some movie or comic or whatever dimension this was, who wouldn’t be so..unnerved?

“Is everything alright?” Their server asked, holding plate of the food and tension in her face. The white haired Asian lady, plump, tanned in white-and-red checkered knee length dress gave her the glance that she knew something was not right and she was willing to get help.

“She had a bad day. I’m her therapist.” The psychiatrist intervened before Anne could say anything further, swiping out his hospital staff ID to the waitress. Immediately, the concern on the woman’s face melted away and replaced with look of fallacy as she seemed to re-assess the situation between the pair.

“Oh,” The waitress smiled in relief as she put the plate of burger in front of Anne and coffee in front of the doctor, “Right, that’s unfortunate… I hope you feel better, sweetie. Enjoy your food.”

Anne attempted a smile but it came out as a side lopped frown, there was no point of getting angry at someone who had nothing to do with the root of the cause. As someone who worked in customer-orientated service before, she was always careful how she acted toward them.

“Thank you.” She bit big, making sure to chew slowly so that she won’t have to speak and he won’t ask.

He silently sipped his coffee, eyeing her every movements, measuring her every little quirks as if trying to figure her out like one would in some sort of overt observation experiment. She felt like some rat in a cage and him, a scientist who placed various stimuli inside the cage to try and pry out specific reactions from her.

“Do you remember anything about your family, Anne?”

She stopped chewing and started to cough. He pushed the orange juice toward her with his knuckle. Anne gulped down the dry food, nearly spitting out the drink as another fit of cough overcame her.

What does she say? What can she say?

“I-I think so.”

“Think so?”

“I have flashes of them. Sometimes.” It was true, she had flashes of them but those flashes were becoming blurry now. It wasn’t a matter of remembering, more of forgetting. She was afraid her lies, her greatest fear would become true the longer she was here. She needed to get out of here.

She was lost in thought when she asked him, “Are you done with your coffee?” She piled up her plates, putting used fork and knife on top as she gathered up his empty cup and used tissues to placed it next to her cutlery and wiped down the table. She had worked as a waitress before she got a new job at the city library few months before she came to this world and it had become a habit of cleaning plates up in convenient way for the waitress to take them away. He took in the habit, but made no attempt to point it out.

“Let’s go, I’ll drop you off.” He said, sliding out of his seat after putting a twenty dollar note on the table. The burger and the coffee probably cost him ten dollars and it wasn’t everyday you’d see someone leaving a ten dollar tip, particularly in a place like this.

The rest of the car ride was spent in silent. She was grateful, at least. Finally, a long overdue peace she deserved.

She must have fallen asleep; a hand was shaking her awake as she felt the coolness of the outside temperature on the window she was leaning into. Her mouth was probably gaped open the whole journey. How embarrassing.

“We’re here.” He said, “You travelled quite far.”

She wordlessly got out of the car, heading into the hostel when she heard him call her from the window of his car.

“I’ll see you soon, Anne.”

She ignored him and entered the hostel.

#scent story #scent of a human story #batman ff #dr jonathan crane #jonathan crane

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