Small echoes from the few passing cars rang in my ears, as the sun
started to burn properly into my skin. My heavy feet dragged themselves across
the street, aching every step of the way. They always hurt like this, whenever
I’d joined the boys for their early morning workout.
Though, I didn’t quite want to admit it, I simply couldn’t keep up with
them. Especially Geoff was a beast and contingently mocked me, every time I had
to stop and catch my breath.
Request: I was wondering if you could do a Jasper imagine, from twilight, where he and the reader are fighting because she’s human and he doesn’t want her to get hurt, but she does the thing regardless and someone accidentally hurts her and Jasper’s alter ego comes out and almost attacks the person so reader has to calm him down and it’s just really cute and fluffy… Sorry this is long.
Warnings: swearing, fluff
“You know, for someone who’s seen me naked, I’m a little uncomfortable at how much you try to act like you’re my father.” You snapped, walking through your house, gathering the stuff you’d need for your day trip.
“Y/N, you know I’d never try to control you. I’m just … worried about having you over there. Where I can’t reach you.” Jasper followed behind you.
You sighed. Jessica had invited you to La Push for the day, and Jasper had basically asserted that you were not going to go. He was bothered by the fact that he couldn’t go with you and protect you. And probably slightly bothered by the fact that you’d be hanging out with boys from school. Mostly, though, he worried about the Quileute pack making an appearance.
“Bella’s going too, you and Edward can suffer together.” You said, throwing sun screen and a towel into your tote bag. You felt yourself calming down, and turned around. “Can you please not do that?”
Jasper’s lips twitched. “It’s a habit.”
“Well quit it. I’m angry at you. Take it like a man.” You said, a hint of humor in your voice as you turned around, making your way to the bathroom and shutting the door behind you so that you could change into a bathing suit. He was still standing there when you came out.
“They’re animals.” Jasper said. “And even worse, they’re teenage boys.”
You heard the dryness in his voice but you could see the worry in his expression. He truly didn’t want you to go.
“Mostly, though, they’re just teenage boys. And I can handle those.” You said, grabbing his hands. “Jess and Angela and Bella are gonna be there too, okay? And Mike and Eric.”
Jasper rolled his eyes. “Mike and Eric couldn’t protect you from a pack of guinea pigs.” You snorted, but softened when he wrapped his arms around you from behind. “They’ll be able to smell me on you. If you got hurt, I don’t know what I would do.”
You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his. “I’ll be careful.” You said, putting one hand on his cheek, fingers brushing over his sharp jawline. “I’ll text you. I’ll stay with people I know. But I’m going.”
He sighed, his hands rubbing absently over your hips. “I suppose I can’t stop you.” He smirked. “I mean, I could.”
“But you won’t.” You said smugly, turning to pack the rest of your things.
“Because my girlfriend carries a surprising amount of wrath in her fragile, mortal body?” He asked, hands still on your hips.
“Yes.” You say, shouldering you bag. “And because you love her and would never dream of restricting her freedom for your own selfish reasons.”
“I’m so glad we’re on the same page.” He said sarcastically, leaning in to kiss your lips, and then your jaw, and down your throat, before he stiffened and Jessica’s car honked from the street.
“Guess that’s my ride.” You said.
He nodded, no longer trying to conceal the worry in his eyes. “I’ll text you.” You said, and he nodded again, stiffly. “And I love you.” You said softly, with a smile.
He was unable to stop the smile that answered yours, “Yeah, yeah. Sure you do.” He said softly, which was his way of saying it back.
You kissed him again when he walked you to the door before you jumped into the backseat of Jessica’s convertible, where Bella was already seated with Angela in the front. Jessica cranked up the music on the radio before the four of you sped off to meet up with Mike and Eric and head to La Push.
You spent the first couple of hours tossing around in the waves. You wrestled Mike to the ground for slapping you with a piece of sea weed until he finally gave up fighting you and apologized. You crawled onto the beach exhausted with the girls and sat in the sand, under the cool grey sky. Though you could tell Jasper was desperately trying not to check in too much, you made sure he knew you were okay every hour or two.
The boys suggested, once it became too cold to swim, that they all take a hike up to the cliffs. Everyone was fairly rested up after swimming and agreed, so you all shrugged your clothes back on and set off up the narrow mountain trail that led to the cliffs above La Push beach.
“And people jump off of these for fun?” Jessica asked skeptically, trying to stare over the cliffs but not daring to come within five feet of the edge.
“That make you nervous?” Mike made like he was going to push her and earned a shriek and a smart punch in the arm in return.
“Any of you ever jumped before?” All of them turned to see a group of three boys emerging onto the cliff, clad in normal clothes but clearly very muscular, and all with dark hair cropped short and dark eyes. You’d never seen the wolves in person but you knew that these had to be some of them, ripped with muscle though the oldest one couldn’t have been more than twenty.
“No way, man.” Eric said. “I’m Eric. This is Mike, that’s Jessica, Y/N, Bella, and Angela.”
“Paul.” Each of the boys introduced themselves. You noticed them glancing at you, and you realized Jasper must have been right. They could smell him on you. They all shared a glance and you tried your best not to notice, staring at your phone.
They’re here.You texted Jasper.
His reply was almost immediate: I will come get you.
Do not cross that treaty line. You sent back. Under any circumstances.
You ground your teeth, looking up briefly.
“Y/N, we’re headed back down to start a campfire. You coming?” Angela asked, frowning briefly your troubled expression and glancing at your phone.
“I’ll be down in a minute.” You said, and they left you alone. You looked back down at your phone.
Who’s being selfish now? Jasper asked.
For keeping you from starting a war? You challenged.
For risking your life because you’re too stubborn to admit you might be in danger. He shot back.
You shook your head, eyes completely focused on your phone when suddenly the ground fell out from under you and you screamed.
The edge of the cliff. You’d wandered too close to the edge of the cliff. You were falling, eyes closed, and then, with a painful jerk of your arm, you weren’t anymore. Someone had caught you. The one named Sam had grabbed your wrist.
“Grab the ledge.” He said, voice straining with the effort of holding your dead weight. You did and slowly, he hauled you back onto the rocky outcropping. You collapsed on your back on the hard ground, breathing heavily, your arm draped over your eyes.
“Nice … catch.” You said between breaths, still reeling, adrenaline coursing like acid through your veins.
“No problem.” Sam said, sitting beside you. His chest still heaved but he was catching his breath a lot easier than you were. “For future reference though, maybe don’t text on the edge of a cliff.”
You let out a laugh, loud with relief as it dawned on you that you very well could have been killed just now and somehow remained relatively unscathed. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.” You said, bringing your phone up to look at it before you realized it was not in your hand.
“Oh no.” You said, rolling onto your stomach and leaning up to look over the cliff before slapping your hand over your face. “Shit, shit, shit!”
You jumped to your feet and found yourself dizzy. Sam steadied you.
“Take it easy, what’s wrong?” He asked.
“My phone!” You pointed to the cliff. “I was talking to-” You cut yourself off, realizing who you were talking to now, and just shook your head. “Um … I need to get ahold of someone. Do you have a cell phone?”
He shook his head, “Sorry. I’m sure one of your friends does, though. We can walk down and …” His voice trailed off as you thought. Jasper was panicking. You just knew it. If you told him the wolves were here and then didn’t text him back … the longer you waited increased the likelihood that he was on his way here. It left you with one option.
You turned to face Sam. “I need you to drive me to the treaty line.”
Sam didn’t seem all that surprised that you knew what that was, but crossed his arms and looked you over. “Why?”
“You know who my boyfriend is, I know you can smell it on me.” You said. He tilted his head up and watched you. “I was texting him about you being here. If he knows I was with you and then I don’t text back, he’ll try to come get me.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “And start a war?”
“If he thinks I’m in danger.” You said. “You’re the leader, right? Sam Uley?” He watched you, but didn’t say anything. “This doesn’t have to end in a fight. Not if you can get me there in time.”
Sam seemed to look over you, trying to decide if you were telling the truth, before he shook his head. “Get on.”
He took off his shirt and doubled over and before you knew it a black wolf the size of a grizzly bear was standing in front of you. Get on, he’d said.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” You mumbled, before struggling onto his back. He let out a small growl which you guessed was wolf for ‘hold on’ and then took off at a run.
You’d been running with Jasper before, and were quite surprised to find that the wolf was just as fast, if not faster. Trees flew by you in a blur of darkness now that the sun had set and before you knew it, you’d reached the treaty line. You rolled off his back and doubled over, hands on knees, stomach churning. Though he was just as fast, Sam was not nearly as graceful. He looked at you warily before something in the woods caught his attention and he crouched into a more defensive position.
“Jasper?” You called out, knowing that’s the only one it could be, but Sam’s head was darting around, his lips curling back over huge canine teeth. There was more than one. “Emmett? Alice? Ed?” You guessed. “I’m fine, no one’s trying to hurt me.”
You glanced at the ground for something, perhaps, that marked where the actual treaty line was, but there was nothing, so you just glanced back at Sam and moved about ten feet forward, hoping that would put you in Cullen territory.
Emmet and Edward appeared just ten feet away, eyes trained on the wolf. Jasper was already in front of you.
“You smell like one of them, are you hurt?” He asked, voice stricken with tension.
“No, I lost my phone and-” You tried but he interrupted you.
“What’s this?” Jasper held up your bruised wrist and ignited a similar pain in your shoulder from where Sam had hauled you back over the cliff. You sucked air through your teeth and jerked your hand away from him instinctively.
What happened next happened very quickly. Edward, reading Jasper’s thoughts, said something along the lines of ‘grab him’ and before you knew it Emmet and Jasper were struggling behind you, Jasper trying to get to Sam, Emmett pouring all of his strength into keeping Jasper behind the treaty line. Sam was crouched and snarling, not attacking first but ready should Jasper get to him. Edward realized that Emmett may not be enough to hold him and grabbed Jasper’s other shoulder as Jasper kicked and snarled, as if all he wanted was to cross the treaty line. Before you really knew what you were doing, you were standing in front of Jasper.
“Y/N he’s not in control right now, you need to move.” Edward said seriously. He was not as strong as Emmett and his grip on Jasper’s arm kept slipping. You didn’t listen.
“Jasper look at me. Not him, me.” You said evenly. He didn’t listen until your hand touched his face. When he looked at you, you could tell it was not entirely Jasper staring back at you. Not your Jasper, anyway. “He didn’t hurt me, okay? You have to believe me, he didn’t. I lost my phone. He brought me here because I knew you’d be looking for me.” You said, your nails scratching in the hairs at the base of his neck.
He was still struggling but it seemed as if he was struggling away from you now, afraid he’d hurt you when he was not in control.
“Look at me.” You said again, forcing him to focus only on you.
“It’s working.” Edward said, looking at you. “Keep going.”
You looked back to Jasper and smiled. “Baby I’m fine. No one hurt me.” You said, your hands on either side of his face. “Listen, I’ll explain everything. But I need you to calm down.”
Jasper glanced back at Sam, and you did too.
“Thank you, Sam. For everything. You can go.” You said. Sam watched you for a second before he seemed to decide to trust you, and turned, loping off into the woods.
“He didn’t hurt you?” Jasper asked, his voice still laced with fury, but it was clear he was back in control.
“You can let him go.” You said to Emmett and Jasper, taking a breath.
“He saved her life.” Edward said, having apparently read Sam’s thoughts, “Apparently you were the one who almost killed her.” His voice was thick with amusement.
Jasper’s eyes widened and he straightened up. “What?” He asked.
You laughed in spite of yourself. “I may have been arguing with you and walked off a cliff.”
Jasper just watched you. “What.”
You broke into a fit of giggles and put your uninjured arm around him. “Let’s just go home. I have to go buy a new cellphone tomorrow.”
“My girlfriend’s an idiot.” Jasper put his arm around you, clearly pissed but amused as well.
“You love her.” You said smugly. His arm tightened around your waist.
The thing about Damianos Akielos is that he is a Hot Commodity. There’s probably a 30 page waiting list out there of people who want a chance to date him. The only problem is that since the age of fourteen, he’s never been single for more than a week. A week!
“He sounds great,” the bartender says, polishing a glass. Laurent realises that he’s been speaking out loud. He is drunk. He also realises that this bartender - Rick, or Mick, or Mike, or whatever his nametag says, words are a little blurry at this point - doesn’t realise the magnitude of the situation at hand.
REQUEST : I love
your writing! Can you do a harry imagine where he comes home from the studio
and he’s being really weird and clingy and he just wants to lay down and curl
up next to you and you’re concerned and ask him if he’s feeling okay and he
says he is fine but later in the night he wakes up from his little nap and he
is feeling really sick to his stomach and just sick all around and he gets
really upset because he’s sick and you’re taking care of him? Thanks hun!
A/N I’m selfishly asking you this but, please let me know if you’re enjoying my writing, so I can stay motivated to write. ENJOY! :)xx
When El told a slightly crestfallen Holly that, even though she had to go home, she’d come over to the Wheeler’s house tomorrow and play an extra hour of Barbies, she didn’t expect the younger girl to hold out her hand, tiniest finger extended outwards.
“Pinky promise?” Holly looked at El with wide and hopeful eyes. For a brief moment, El pursed her lips, unsure what a pinky promise was and how it differed from a regular promise. Tentatively, El offered Holly her own small finger and watched, with interest, as Holly intertwined their pinky fingers, squeezed them together gently, and nodded happily.
“See you tomorrow, Ellie!” Holly grinned toothily up at her before skipping down the hallway towards the kitchen, where El knew Karen was beginning to prepare dinner before the rest of her family returned from work and school. As she let herself out, fishing around on her keychain for the key Karen had made for her, El could hear Holly joyfully telling her mother all about the day she and El had spent together. She heard, and returned, Mrs. Wheeler calling out a goodbye to her and dragged her feet to the end of the driveway where Jim sat in his idling truck, waiting to bring her home for supper.
“Mike, do you pinky promise that we’ll always be friends?” El asked, the phone in her bedroom pressed between her ear and her shoulder as she lay on her bed, snuggled in a collection of pink and purple blankets, safe between the canopy posts and curtains that hung around her—they reminded her so much of the blanket fort Mike had once built for her, nearly two years ago now.
“I, uh…” Mike racked his brain for the proper way to articulate what he was thinking. He had just finished answering El’s question, explaining what a pinky promise was. “Of course, El. But I need to see you to really pinky promise. Definitely yes though…” he paused for a moment, trying to still the beating of his heart. Why had her request to always be friends sent his stomach into backflips? Why was the phone in danger of falling from his suddenly clammy palms? Mike gulped—he knew perfectly well why. “Hey, El, I have to go. My mom’s calling me. Can I call you back before I go to bed?”
“Of course,” El laughed softly. Mike always called before bed to tell her a story and help her fall asleep—it was their tradition, “Bye Mike.”
Hearing the click that indicated the end of the call, El hung up the phone and returned it to its place on her bedside table, reaching for the book that also lay there, a paperback novel she had borrowed from the library earlier that week. El opened the pages to the spot where a fancy metal bookmark—a birthday gift from Nancy—kept her place. Her eyes ran over the page several times before she could focus on the words, thinking instead of Mike and the strange tone his voice had adopted at the end of their conversation. She wondered, with some worry, if she had upset him by asking him to make a pinky promise.
El had only managed to read five pages before she heard a light tapping sound on her window. With narrowed eyes, she sat bolt upright and looked over to her pink curtains, behind which the tapping sound got slightly louder. El pushed herself out of bed and crossed the room, peeking out of the fabric of her curtains to see Mike, panting, with his face nearly pressed up against the glass. When he caught sight of her, his face lit up into a bright smile and he waved eagerly. El shot him a sideways glance, confused as to why he was there—and how he had managed to bike over so quickly—as she lifted the window and stepped backwards, her bare feet warm in the soft mauve carpet Jim had installed for her room.
“Hey,” he whispered as he slid his upper half into the window, leaning forward slightly. He was tall enough now that his legs didn’t dangle off the ground, but his height meant he had to lean in at an awkward angle. “Sorry if I scared you.”
“What are you doing here?” El asked in a low and amused voice.
“I came to give you that pinky promise,” Mike said, looking at her with a goofy smile and a wink, holding out his hand. “But,” he continued, his expression changing slightly and his cheeks turning dark red, “It’s just…I can’t promise to be only your friend forever. I want to be…I mean, maybe you want to be…maybe we could…” Mike grimaced, his tongue suddenly weighing a hundred pounds in his mouth and his throat dry. Could he screw this up any worse?
“Mike,” El raised her eyebrows, “You want to be my boyfriend?”
“What? Yes!” Mike smiled, the tension in his body immediately giving way to relief and his cheeks burning brighter, “I mean, uh, sure, definitely.” He couldn’t believe that El had just used the B-word; the same word he had been wringing his hands about for weeks now. “So you’ll be my, uh, girlfriend?” The word was odd in his mouth, but he liked the way it sounded.
“Yes,” El smiled and leaned forward to wrap her pinky finger around his, “I promise.”
“El,” Mike chuckled a little, before turning serious, looking her directly in the eyes he had grown so fond of. “I promise to always be there for you.” He squeezed his finger against hers and then looked up at her beaming face and shining eyes. He wanted to kiss her then, but there was a sharp, quick knock on El’s door.
“El?” The Chief’s voice sounded from the other side of the door, “You busy?”
“One minute please,” El squeaked, pulling away from Mike and working to hold back a giggle at the look of sheer horror on his face as he hurried to remove himself from the window.
“It’s nothing,” Hopper continued, his voice light and teasing, “But tell Wheeler he’s free to use the front door.”
With that, El flushed and heard her adoptive father’s footsteps retreating down the hall.
“Maybe you could…” she began, but Mike—her boyfriend—was already nodding furiously.
A/N: This was requested by an anon, so I hope you enjoy!!
“Hello everyone, and welcome to the Today Show. This morning we have with us the stars of the hit Broadway musical Dear Evan Hansen! Laura Dreyfuss, Ben Platt, Will Roland and Y/N Y/L/N! Welcome you guys!” The interviewer said, her voice unnaturally peppy for 6 in the morning.
“It’s a pleasure to be here.” Ben said, smiling brightly at the interviewer. I yawned slightly but quickly covered my mouth. Unfortunately Will noticed, and let out a chuckle.
“Sorry. I’m still getting used to the lack of sleep. Normally I sleep in till at least 10.” I said and everyone laughed, including the interviewer. “It’s all good Y/N. So, what’s it like being in such an emotionally demanding show?” The interviewer asked.
The question was open ended, but she looked more at Ben as she said it. “Well, it’s definitely tough, but I’ve been playing Evan for 3 and a half years, so it becomes less of a chore over time.” Ben said, the interviewer nodding.
“Now, Laura, your character Zoe is very closely intertwined with Evan. What’s it like playing that chemistry onstage with Ben?” She asked Laura and I bit back a laugh.
I know how much Laura hates getting asked questions that paint Zoe as ‘Evan’s love interest’. I glanced over at Will whose eyebrows were arched, a smirk on his face.
“Well, Ben is a wonderful human being, so I guess the chemistry just comes naturally. The whole cast and crew are super close both on and off stage, so my relationship with Ben’s, and everyone else’s, character is incredibly natural.” Laura answered, fiddling slightly with her dress.
“Speaking of relationships.” I groaned internally and shifted slightly in my seat. “Who do you reckon has the closest friendship in the cast?” The interviewer asked, and I didn’t notice the smirks appear on my cast mates faces.
“Definitely Mike Faist and this one. They’re very close.” Will said, wiggling his eyebrows slightly and jabbing a thumb in my direction. “Really?” The interviewer asked, and I fought the urge to bury my head in my hands.
“Oh yeah. They’re practically inseparable.” Ben added, smirking at me. “I think I have a photo on my phone of Y/N and Mike dressed in the other person’s costume.” Laura said and I audibly groaned, my cheeks flushed.
“It’s too early in the morning for all this bullying.” I responded, slouching slightly in my seat. The interviewer chuckled at the interaction between us, looking at me with sympathy.
“So, Y/N, it’s pretty much unanimous that you and Mike are the closest out of the bunch. Is there anything you’d like to add?” The interviewer asked, her eyebrows arched high.
“Well, uh, Mike and I are definitely close friends. We’ve known each other since Mike was in Newsies, and it’s definitely great to be able to work with him on something major.” I said, shifting slightly in my seat.
“Alright then. Well, that’s about all the time we have. Check out Dear Evan Hansen at the Music Box theatre. Please thank Ben, Will, Y/N and Laura!” The interviewer said and we all waved at the camera.
“Thank you so much for coming, you guys.” She said, shaking our hands. “You’re very welcome.” Will said, smiling at her. “Best of luck with the show.” The interviewer said as we left the building.
“I hope the bus you threw me under swerves and hits y'all.” I said as soon as we were out of the studio. Will laughed and threw an arm over my shoulders. “It had to be said. You and Mike are tighter than tight.” Will replied, smirking set me.
“Hey, what do you reckon their ship name would be? Because we all know you two are going to end up dating.” Laura said and I groaned, whacking her on the shoulder.
“Hmm… I’ll have to think about that.” Ben said, stroking his chin in a pose of thought. “I hate all of you. I hope you burn in hell.” I retorted, shoving Will’s arm off my shoulders.
“No need to be so touchy. We were just saying, you and Mike would be absolutely adorable together.” Will said and I rolled my eyes, storming into the theatre.
“Hey! How was the interview?” I heard a voice ask and I looked up to see Mike, smiling gently at me. “It was alright. Did you watch it?” I asked, awkwardly tugging on my coat.
“Nah.” Mike said causally, tucking his hair behind his ears. “Good.” I muttered, writing my name on the sign in sheet. “You ready for another two show Sunday?” Mike asked, walking up the stairs with me to my dressing room.
“Christ, I need a nap.” I muttered and Mike laughed, ruffling my hair. “I know how much you love the couch in my dressing room. You can crash there for your nap.” Mike said and I felt my cheeks heat up.
“Thanks Mike.” I said, stifling a yawn. “It’s all good Y/N.” Mike said softly as he opened the door to his dressing room.
I lied down on the couch, smiling weakly at Mike as I curled up. “You can stay here if you want.” I murmured, watching Mike turn around with half-lidded eyes. “Oh, uh, sure.” He said, sitting down near where my head rested.
I shuffled up and bravely placed my head in his lap, hearing Mike’s breath hitch. He let out a sigh and placed his hands on my head, playing with my hair gently.
I exhaled, feeling myself slowly drift off to sleep, Mike still toying with my hair. “Thanks.” I muttered, my lips turned up in a slight smile. “You’re very welcome, Y/N.” Mike said, his voice fading as I fell asleep.
I opened my eyes slowly, yawning as I stirred. “Good morning sleeping beauty.” Mike said, smiling down at me. I groaned and sat up, running a hand through my hair.
“Hey. What’s the time?” I asked groggily, fighting back a yawn. Mike chuckled and pulled out his phone, unlocking it. “It’s 9:15. You had a decent nap, Y/L/N.” Mike said and I rolled my eyes, flipping him off.
Mike placed a hand on his chest in mock offence, and I laughed softly. “Hey, Y/N?” Mike said and I hummed in response, noticing how close Mike and I were sitting.
“Have a look at this.” He said, passing me his phone. On the screen was a tweet from Will that contained a photo of me asleep on Mike’s lap with a caption that made my cheeks go red.
“In the wise word of Lin-Manuel Miranda, fire up your slash fics in your Internet.” I read, internally cursing Will Roland. “Yeah. Will has always had a… questionable sense of humour.” Mike said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.
“Yeah. It was just a joke.” I muttered, suddenly feeling very deflated. “I should probably get into my dressing room, and, uh, start warming up.” I said, standing up abruptly.
Mike looked at me curiously and went to protest, but I was out the door before he could say something. I threw my dressing room door opening, slamming it behind me.
I locked it and sighed, sitting down and putting my head in my hands. I felt my heart shatter when Mike suggested that the thought of us being together was nothing more than one of Will’s jokes.
I felt the tears escape my eyes and flow down my cheeks, dropping onto my clothes. I had tried to so hard to push down my feelings for Mike, to ignore the fact that he probably had his eyes on someone other than me.
I took in a deep breath, realising that there was no point in crying over someone I spent practically all my time with. I’d have to settle for being friends and nothing more.
My heart ached at the thought, but I decided to stop thinking with my heart. That had gotten me in some serious trouble before, and I wouldn’t have it happening again.
I got off the floor, wiping the stray tears off my face. I had never been more grateful for the lack of interaction between Connor and Alana until today. I saw that it was now 9:30, and we still had an hour or so before rehearsals for the matinee.
“I’m going to go grab something for morning tea. You’re welcome to join me if you want.” I called, opening the door of my dressing room. “Hold on Y/N. I’ll be there in a second.” Jennifer called and a smile settled on my face.
“Awesome.” I muttered, glancing in the mirror to make sure it wasn’t obvious that I had been crying. “Good morning Y/N. You ready to go?” Jennifer asked and I nodded, smiling brightly at her.
We walked out of the theatre and strolled down the street, taking in the sights and sounds of the theatre district. “So, how had your morning been?” Jennifer asked cheerfully, her red hair bouncing as she walked.
“It’s been horrendous, Jen.” I said and she gave me a sympathetic smile. “I had to get up at 5:30 for the Today Show, and if you watched the interview you’ll understand why that was a disaster.” I said and Jen grimaced slightly.
“I did see that. It’s like everyone except Mike knows how you feel.” Jennifer said and I nodded, exhaling defeatedly. “Then I took a nap with Mike. I fell asleep on the couch in his dressing room.” I said, noticing Jennifer’s eyebrows raise slightly.
“Will took a photo of the two of us and posted it on Twitter with a caption pretty much saying we should date, and Mike’s response was that it was just one of Will’s jokes.” I said and Jennifer let out a quiet gasp, wrapping me in a tight hug.
“Oh sweetie. You know Mike, and you know how he tends to say things without thinking.” Jennifer said and I sighed, squeezing her torso.
“It’s just, it really hurt because we’ve been friends for so long, and I’m an expert on repressing my feelings.” I said and Jennifer frowned, pushing me away slightly.
“Y/N, you don’t play someone’s mother without getting to know them very well. Mike doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings, especially when they’re romantic.” Jennifer said and I frowned, feeling rather confused.
“Wait. What do you mean, romantic?” I said, noticing that we had approached the bakery. “Y/N, Mike has pretty strong feelings for you. Clearly the two of you are both terrible talking about your feelings.” Jennifer said and my eyes widened, shock etched into my features.
“Holy shit.” I whispered, earning a chuckle from Jennifer. “Exactly. You should really talk to Mike after the show. Or before, I don’t care. Just talk to him. Things can’t be solved without communication.” Jennifer said and I nodded, taking in a deep breath.
“Thanks Jen. I definitely need a brownie right about now.” I said and she chuckled, walking into the bakery. We ordered a brownie each, plus a box of them for the rest of the people back at the theatre.
“Wait. Mike doesn’t like brownies. He prefers cookies.” I said, and Jennifer smirked at me as I ordered a double choc chip cookie. “Let’s go Y/N.” Jennifer said, patting me on the shoulder.
We made the short walk back to the theatre, carrying our morning tea. “We’ve got brownies!” Jennifer announced, and she was met with cheers from the cast and crew.
Jennifer put the box of brownies down on a table, and although most of the cast swarmed the box, I noticed that there was someone missing.
“Hey. I’m going to go see Mike.” I said to Jennifer and she nodded, patting me on the shoulder. “Good luck.” She whispered, giving me a thumbs up as I left. I made my way through the hallways, stopping just outside Mike’s dressing room.
I knocked tentatively on the door, hoping for a response. “Come in.” Mike called, and I took in a deep breath. “Hey. The rest of them are out there destroying the box of brownies.” I said and Mike let out a breathy laugh.
“I figured. Jennifer’s voice travels pretty far.” Mike replied, his hair pulled back in a loose bun. “I, uh, I know you don’t like brownies, so I got you this.” I said, passing him the bag that contained the cookie.
His face lit up as he took the bag, taking the cookie out. “You got my favourite flavour!” Mike said excitedly, taking a bite from the biscuit. “Of course I did.” I muttered, looking at the ground.
“Thank you Y/N.” Mike said, cookie crumbs around his mouth. “It’s no problem.” I said and an awkward silence settled over the room. “About, uh, what happened before.” I said Mike’s smile disappeared almost instantly.
“Y/N.” Mike said but I cut him off. “I just wanted to say that, um, what you said really hurt me.” I said and Mike’s face fell. “It’s because, uh, well, I kind of.”
During my rambling I didn’t notice Mike stand up and walk over to me, but I did feel him place his lips on mine, cutting me off instantly. My eyes widened, but I quickly closed them, melting into the kiss.
His lips tasted sugary, and fit perfectly against mine. His hands held my face gently, as if too much pressure would cause me to break. I snaked my arms around his waist, pulling him flush against my chest.
I broke away from the kiss, leaning my forehead against his as I tried to catch my breath. “I am very sorry about what I said Y/N. I kind of went after you when you stormed off, but I left when I heard you crying.” Mike muttered, his hot breath fanning my face.
He took his hands off my face and held my shoulders gently, his taller build making this an easy feat. “I love you Y/N, but I kinda struggle with talking about my feelings.” Mike said and I felt my breath hitch in my throat, a smile blooming on my face.
“Jen did say that.” I said and Mike chuckled, pulling me into a hug. He kissed my forehead softly and I closed my eyes, leaning into Mike’s chest. “I told you to talk to him, did I not?” I heard a voice say and Mike chuckled, the vibrations soothing somehow.
“Hi Jen.” Mike said sheepishly, and I retracted my arms from around his waist. “Looks like you two finally sorted things out.” Jennifer said, a smug look on her face.
“There wasn’t really a lot of talking. More like me stammering like an awkward mess and him kissing me.” I said and Jennifer chuckled, Mike’s cheeks flushing at my words.
“Either way, it worked. Congrats you two. It was only a matter of time.” Jen said, winking at us as she walked away. Mike let out a sigh and slipped his hand into mine, smiling bashfully at me.
“I love you Mike.” I murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too.” He replied, squeezing my hand. “You’re so warm.” I murmured, earning a hearty laugh from Mike.
“I hope that’s not all you love me for. My warmth.” He said and I shook my head, pecking his lips briefly. “There are so many reason why I love you, Mike Faist. That’s just one of them.”
It’s a cold night in November. Sherlock is standing on a bridge, looking down at the shining, dark water that
flows without haste, to another, larger body of water. Sherlock is standing on the bridge, looking at the water and remembers how it was to dance with John. As he is standing there, in the sobering cold of the night, this memory seems like a dream to him. It’s a memory of the kind which seems so unreal that you inevitably ask yourself, did that happen? He knows, yes, it happened. He has danced with John. Behind closed curtains. In the light of the fire in the fireplace. To slow, quiet music.
And he wasn’t prepared for it.
Not prepared, for John’s gentle, careful touch. Not
prepared to feel John’s warm hands, not prepared to be so close to John
- almost intolerably close - and to feel his breath as he laughed
a bit embarrassed.
The memory is clear. Warm and painful at the same time. Torture without violence.
Sherlock sighs. His breath escapes before him in a steam cloud.
He realizes how tired he is. Exhaustion is becoming more and more apparent. His body feels heavy and light at the same time. It is more difficult for him to keep his eyes open.
But he does not want to go back. Back to Baker Street.
Back to all the memories. It is an apartment full of voices and shadows. Behind every door waits another memory.
With a little cocaine it would be easier, whispered a voice in his head and Sherlock nodded to himself. He begins to think about it.
At the same time he knows so much better. The drug is fleeting. The short, brief moment of oblivion and breath of happiness does not lessen the hours of depression and pain. It’s not worth it.
And yet … the thought is tempting. So tempting that Sherlock catches himself, how he already thinks about, where he could find his old dealer. Horrified and disgusted with himself, he strokes his stony face and
shakes his head violently, as if he could get rid of the thoughts wtih this.
Of course it doesn’t work.
Sherlock swallows and after a moment of desperate thinking he takes his cell phone out of his coat pocket and takes a look at the contact list. He sees John’s number standing at the top and swallows. It would be really nice to hear John’s voice again. But no. John is … busy. He mourns and has to take care of his daughter. John doesn’t have time to deal with Sherlock’s problems. John has also made it clear that he doesn’t want to see him. Anyone. Anyone but Sherlock, he said to Molly. No. John is not an option tonight.
His gaze glides farther, from Molly to Lestrade to Mike Stamford, whose number he has stored for some reason. Lestrade might … He had helped earlier. But it’s night. The Inspector is surely sleeping already. Or does he have night shift at the yard? Sherlock nervously licks his dry lip. Then he presses on the receiver. If not now, his courage will disappear in a few seconds … He pushes the phone to his ear. Hears it beeping. Once, twice …
Sherlock closes his eyes. He swallows. “Hello, uh, Lestrade. I wanted …”
“Sherlock, you know it’s late at night?” Asks Lestrade, sounding as if he were half asleep. So no night shift. Stupid. So stupid. Sherlock bites his lip. “I’m sorry. I … I will not bother you any longer. Good night.”
“No. No wait. Why are you calling?”
Yes why? There is no case. What do you want to tell him now?
“I …” Sherlock presses a hand against his forehead. Hard. “I, uhm …”
“Sherlock? What’s the matter?” Now Lestrade sounds very much awake and worried. Worried. Why does I always have to cause problems for everyone? Sherlock can’t say it and he feels cold sweat breaking out on his
forehead, fear presses his throat, and all he can get out is a pressed, "I
can’t …” And then he begins to hyperventilate.
“God, Sherlock! Okay, breathe more slowly. Where are you? I’ll pick you up.”
Sherlock chokes out the address with difficulty. Lestrade tells him something like “Stay where you are,” and he sinks to the ground, his back against the railing of the bridge. He puts the phone away and hides his face in both hands.
Sherlock has no idea how much time has passed when Greg suddenly kneels before him and shakes him lightly on the shoulders.
“God, Sherlock. It’s ice cold. What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”
Yes what? Sherlock doesn’t know what to say. He shrugs.
Greg sighs and rubs his neck. “Come on, get up. I’ll drive you home … ”
At the word home, Sherlock hastily shakes his head. “No,” he mutters. “Not Baker Street …”
Greg frowns but doesn’t inquire further. “Not Baker Street. OK. Then … my place, is that all right?”
Sherlock nods. He stands up, noting how weak his legs are. He follows Greg to the car and leaves the bridge and the water behind him.
The ride is quiet. And short.
Lestrade doesn’t try to question him. He only switches the conditioning system on, to maximum level, when he notices Sherlock’s trembling. And the radio. There’s a quiet song from a band Sherlock doesn’t know. It’s quite soothing. Warmth spreads slowly in the car and makes him even more tired, as he already is. His eyes almost close. He is frightened when Greg suddenly murmurs, “There we are.”
The two men get out and enter Lestrade’s small, tidy apartment.
Sherlock stands a little lost in the middle of the living room, while Lestrade rummages in a drawer. “I’ll give you something to cover the sofa. Are you hungry?”
Sherlock shakes his head. “No,” he says hoarsely.
“OK. But You know where the kitchen is anyway.” Greg chuckles and pulls some sheets and a blanket out of the drawer and throws the things to Sherlock. He automatically catches them. “Thank you.”
“Yes.” Lestrade rubs his neck again. “Do you want to tell me … what happened?” He looks at Sherlock waitingly.
Sherlock looks down at his feet. “I … it was only, uhm, memories.” It is incomprehensible drivel. He knows it.
And yet, as Greg answers, he can hear understanding in the inspector’s voice. “Mmh. You know you can call at any time, okay? Me. And also Molly. Or your brother. If you need help. If it gets too much.”
Sherlock just nods. He still stares at his feet.
“OK. So, good night Sherlock. I really need to get up early tomorrow,” Greg says and yawns.
“Good night,” Sherlock replies, listening to Greg leaving the room.
Sherlock covers the sofa and goes to the kitchen to drink a glass of water.
A few minutes later he lies on his back and stares into the darkness. He is glad he didn’t take drugs. But somehow he feels that it will not be long before he has to fight this battle again.
Greg is already gone when Sherlock wakes up the next morning.
When he looks at the clock, he sees with horror that he has slept for almost 10 hours. It is noon and outside life is moving forward.
A plate of scrambled eggs and toast is in the kitchen. And a pack of orange juice.
Sherlock must smile involuntarily.
Orange juice. So he remembered that.
A little later he goes back to Baker Street. And together with Mrs. Hudson he finds Mary’s message.
A few days later he goes to hell.
And suddenly there is no longer any reason to suppress the need for drugs. He feels worse and more worthless than ever.
But I do it for John, he tells himself. It’s different because it’s for John.
I’m not entirely happy with this ficlet, but I post it anyway. Maybe you can tell me what do you think about it?
Like always: Tags under the cut. Did I forget you, or do you want to be tagged in future works? Tell me :)
First ever Pitch Fanfic… Be Kind… I “edited” this after work… sorry if I missed more than a few errors… This notion of a tattoo has me feeling some type of way… Shout out to the fandom you inspire me everyday… and @megaphonemonday for throwing me down the hole of this trope :)
Tell Me What You Want
Whoever thought it was a good idea to play truth or dare deserved bad things. The team was was away in Cincinnati and had unanimously voted against going out to the bars after the game. Sonny was still bitter about the TMZ thing and everyone else was on notice and ordered to keep their indiscretions to a minimum. So some genius came up with the bright idea to stay in tonight and drink a few beers in Blip’s suite. Minus Mike, all the usual suspects were present.
Everyone dismissed Old Man Lawson’s absence on account that he had been in a foul mood for the past two days. Everyone assumed it had something to do with Rachel, and left it alone.
Ginny wanted to care, but things were finally coming into place. She had recovered flawlessly and was playing her best ball. Amelia was back and had finally learned the meaning of boundaries, and Ginny had made it a point to check in with her mom and Will at least once week. Rehab put things into perspective and family needed to be on some level a priority. Rehab also taught her that you find out who your real friends are when the tide has turned, and it’s not looking so good.
The entire team rallied around her. Took her to appointments, even the guys who had always been a bit rougher around the edges were more than supportive. But she would have never imagined her Captain would essentially vanish. He was there when she woke up in the hospital. She remembered reaching for his hand when the doctor told her that she had elbow tendinitis. She would recover and play again. But Mike disappeared. No late night calls, no surprise visits, nothing.
Ginny had heard through Evelyn that he was back with Rachel. The information didn’t come out easily and Evelyn knew the effect it would have on her, but she needed to know. At that moment Ginny decided that she needed to move on and past wanting a man that didn’t want her and was still very much love with his ex wife. Even if she felt like time froze when they occasionally made eye contact that lasted for far too long, or when she violently tried to forget that night at Boardners. She wanted to forget his hand on her lower back. She wanted to forget his scent that is so distinctively Mike and so distinctively amazing. She wanted to forget that for that very real moment, he wanted to be with her too. But the moment passed. He was with Rachel, and that was the end of it.
Needless to say his absence came as a reprieve to Ginny. There’s only so many angst filled outings with the guys she could take.
“How about a game of truth or dare?” Javanes suggested as Blip rolled his eyes.
The suggestion was questionable but he got no nays and this version of truth or dare turned out to be a hybrid of truth or dare and kangaroo court.
Overwhelmingly, the guys including Ginny chose truth and were surprisingly honest about every lucid detail. Sonny proved to be worst than TMZ because he had the scoop on everyone. He got Dusty to admit to that rendezvous in Miami with German twins. Blip admitted to crying during the remake of Beaches, and Butch verified that the alleged picture of him in pink boy shorts does in fact exist. And Livan didn’t exactly confirm or deny hooking up with 2 Kardashians. It was all fun and games until Ginny’s horsey laugh came to an abrupt stop. Sonny said that next person had to chose dare and of course Ginny was next.
Ginny squared her shoulders, never one to back down. Not to mention, she figured Papi would take it easy or her… at least she had hoped he would.
“Alright Papi, what you got?” Ginny asked.
“Ok.. don’t kill me Mami, but inquiring minds want to know… where is your hidden tattoo?”
Ginny’s face instantly burned red. One little report and overnight #BakersTAT was a thing that even Elliot couldn’t stop. All these years she had managed to keep it hidden and somehow someone somewhere caught wind of it. Ginny knew she would eventually be outed, but she was hoping that would be sometime after she got the damn thing removed. The guys wouldn’t leave it alone for weeks and she thought the story was finally old news… But she couldn’t back down from this now, especially not after what Butch and Blip had just copped to.
“This is so messed up,” Ginny sighed running her fingers through her hair.
“Alright since no one is going to let this go.. ever..” Ginny started.
“I will show it to you Livan and you can confirm its existence,” Ginny explained to a sea of grumbles from the guys apart from Livan who was grinning from ear to ear.
Livan looked like he had hit the lottery, but he knew that if she showed it to anyone it was going to be him. He and Ginny were inseparable, real friends. Livan was finally understanding the true Ginny. Not in the way that Lawson did, he doubt they ever would have the connection that she and Lawson had, but it worked for them. Livan didn’t know what caused the rift between Mike and Ginny, but it was palpable. There was a great divide there that everyone felt. But Livan didn’t ask and Ginny didn’t tell.
Ginny ushered Livan into the bathroom of the suite and closed and locked the door.
“You’re a little shit, you know that Papi?” Ginny asked, smoothing her hair out of her face.
“Of course, but you would’ve pulled the same thing if you had something on me,” Livan stated.
“Duly noted,” Ginny said with a nod and a smirk that scared Livan just a tad bit. He knew Ginny wouldn’t forget, and he would get his eventually.
“Well you’ll have plenty of time to cook up your revenge later Mami. You know you can trust me, I won’t tell anyone what or where it is.”
“You can’t Livan,” Ginny added finally realizing that she was going to do this. She could’ve easily said no; not even Evelyn knows about her tattoo. Livan was her friend. She was sure he would have questions…questions she really didn’t have the answers to, but she did trust him.
“I won’t Baker,” Livan said in a serious tone as the guys obviously fought to eavesdrop from behind the door.
Ginny slowly took off her teal Nike racerback tank to reveal her blush Nike sports bra. She would be lying if it didn’t surprise her how big Livan’s eyes got. Their relationship had molded into best friends / brother/sister territory, but his expression was strained and Ginny found it slightly amusing.
Ginny peeled up the left side of her sports bra, along her ribcage and she heard the loud inhale from Livan. She hadn’t made eye contact with him before she heard him ask, “How long have you had that?”
“I got it when I was 18,” Ginny said, her voice slightly above a whisper. Livan didn’t look surprised, his expression was almost sad. The entire clubhouse knew there was always something between Mike and Ginny. Livan knew Mike couldn’t possibly be that stupid to try to start something with Ginny. But Livan had also witnessed on more occasions than he could count Mike staring at Ginny like he depended on her every word to live. No man looks at a woman like that that isn’t completely and fully in love with her. It’s only now that he realizes that Ginny is in love with Mike too.
It wasn’t the small 36 in ink that gave it away, but the many conversations he had had with Ginny about getting her tattoo removed that came rushing into his mind like a flood. Ginny had many opportunities and down time to get it removed, made appointments to go even, and yet she didn’t.
Livan didn’t have to ask because he knew Mike didn’t know about this.
“Well say something,” Ginny said fidgeting with her fingers after she put her shirt back on.
“I know the Old Man is senile, I just hope he’s not stupid.” Livan said, giving Ginny a weak smile.
Arriving back to her own apartment was new, but it was an upgrade from the Omni; she would adjust. No sooner than she had set her gear down, hopped in the shower, and climbed in her bed, her phone rang.
“So, why wasn’t I invited to the Padres sleep over?” She heard from a grumpy voice.
“You were, you turned us down.. remember?” Ginny replied.
“I turned down groupies, bad music, and cellphone paparazzi. But I could’ve been persuaded to witness you and your boyfriend’s first 7 minutes in Heaven,” Mike quipped.
“And just that quick, this conversation is over,” Ginny said with a little more bite than she intended.
“Not so fast Rook, geez, I remember the days when you could take a joke,” Mike huffed out.
“Well I’m not in the mood Lawson. I just want to relax and not hold this phone,” Ginny said as snuggled further into her bed.
“Well then come to the door and we can talk face to face, no phone required.”
Mike heard a dial tone and heavy feet stride to the door. This was likely a bad idea, showing up at Ginny’s apartment, unannounced and uninvited. But he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. He needed to get to the bottom of all the chatter about Ginny and Livan. Blip was convinced that it was harmless and that they were more like brother and sister than anything else. But Mike knew he would be hard pressed to find any man in that clubhouse that wouldn’t lose his shit over an opportunity to spend time with Ginny Baker. And Ginny and Livan were close. A hell of a lot closer than he would ever like them to be. But he couldn’t be the dick that kept Ginny and Livan from developing as battery mates. He hated it, but Ginny’s game depended on having a great catcher, even if it wasn’t him.
His thought was instantly broken when she opened the door. Her curls were still wet; a few drops had dripped down to her very thin gray tank top… and holy boy shorts. Small. White. Tiny. Boy Shorts. Long, toned, caramel legs in those boy shorts. A perfect pear shaped ass in those boy shorts.
“Why are you here Lawson?” Ginny asked conjuring up more irritation than she actually felt. Her favorite Lawson was here, the one who wore Henleys and looked at her like she was the most precious and sexiest thing in the world.
Rachel. Ginny remembered, as her internal cold shower washed over her.
“May I come in?” Lawson asked as Ginny stepped to the side. Mike fought like hell to not look at her ass as she slid by, but failed as he caught a trace of the coconut scent he had grown so fond of.
“So are you going to tell me about Show and Tell or not?”
“Of all the things that came out that night, that’s what’s got you so worked up? Drop it Lawson,” Ginny said grabbing a bottled water from her fridge.
“I wouldn’t call this worked up Baker, just asking a question… a question you seem hell bent on avoiding,”
“None of your business,”
“This team is my business,”
“Here we go… seriously Mike, what is your problem? Your mood swings are making me nauseous. If this team was your business, where the hell were you during my rehab? The rest of the team was there. Where were you?” Ginny spat out. “You don’t get to lecture me about the team…” Ginny said exasperated. Ginny was so tired of this hot and cold bullshit.
“What exactly are we talking about here Gin?” Mike said feeling the heat in his face.
“Are we talking about the team? Rehab? Your rules? Your every attempt to keep me away!” Mike yelled.
“Keep YOU away? I wasn’t the one who bailed on their teammate Mike.. I wasn’t” Ginny stopped as Mike headed to the door.
“Gin, I’m tired of arguing. I’m tired of it. Tell me what you want.”
“Mike I don’t want to argue either, but..”
“Tell me what you want.” Mike said. Ginny could feel the exhaustion in his voice. She came and stood near him, willing her eyes not to water.
“The truth,” Ginny said, almost trembling.
“The truth… alright… the truth… Rachel and I split after your injury. I was a wreck. You got hurt and it was my fault. Rachel made a few comments about me getting over it and injuries being apart of the game, but I didn’t want to hear it. She said the first time we failed was because I was in love with baseball… this time she said we failed because….” Mike paused.
“It wasn’t your fault Mike, none of this was your fault.”
“I should’ve agreed to shut you down Gin, I should’ve..” Mike started as he felt Ginny’s hands clasp the sides of his face.
“This was not your fault.” Ginny said looking him square in the eyes. Mike cautiously wrapped his hands around Ginny’s waist and pulled her into him. Breathing her in, and muffling into her hair, he said one last time… “Tell me what you want.”
Ginny pulled back slightly from Mike, instantaneously missing his warmth. With faux confidence, she slowly pulled her gray tank top over her head and tossed it on the floor. Ginny paused before she lifted the soft pink thin fabric of her yoga bra slightly, just above her rib cage. With her right index finger she gently tapped just below the number, his number. She was exposed. Literally and figuratively. When Ginny had enough courage to return her gaze to Mike his eyes had grown dark.
If ya’ll want more, tell me! Comments and thoughts are encouraged…
can we talk for a second about how when michael went up to look in the window of that lake house to see if mike was there, and he was on the phone with linc and looking through the window and he said “linc, he’s here. my son. i can’t believe i’m seeing my son?”
because it made me think of, in another universe, one where michael never had to leave his family, linc would show up at the hospital on the day mike was born to see his nephew, and he’d find michael standing at the nursery window, looking in at all the babies. michael thought he might not be able to tell which one was his son, all the newborns in the books he bought looked the same, but he’d recognize sara’s nose and cheeks anywhere, even on their newborn son. linc walks up and stands next to michael.
“which one is he?” linc would ask, and michael would point him out.
“seven pounds, ten ounces. 25 inches long.” michael would rattle off instantly, proudly, like the facts had been ingrained in him as long as he’d been alive, as much a part of him as his own name, his own birthday.
“he’ll be tall,” linc would note and michael would nod, smiling proudly. linc would ask about sara and michael would tell him she’s good. she’s sleeping now, but they’ll bring the baby back to the room later.
they would stand in silence together for a few minutes, looking at baby mike, before linc would pat his younger brother on the shoulder. “congratulations, man.”
and michael would smile at him, before turning back to the window and smiling at his baby.
“linc, he’s here. my son. i can’t believe i’m seeing my son.”
I woke up a half hour early and I couldn’t bare to watch the announcement, so I went grocery shopping instead and 5 minutes in my phone just started blowing up and then the world turned upside down really quickly! I had a quick phone call with my producer and heard that we received 9 nominations and I’m so happy the show is being recognized, it’s a rare show that comes once in a decade. It’s a heartfelt story that is very current and speaks to a generation who feels left out. I hope that message continues to be sent out and I hope that it will get more people to come see it and that it creates more discussion about mental health. I’m thrilled for everyone, it’s just a dream come true. My knees are still a little wobbly. I guess the standard answer to say is that I’ll celebrate by going to Disney World, but instead I’ll say that I’m going to the theater and doing the show that I love.
Mike Faist on his 2017 Best Featured Actor in a Musical Tony Nomination for Dear Evan Hansen
Michael Flynn, President Donald Trump’s national security adviser, has resigned just weeks after the new president took office. The resignation came after questions grew over whether Flynn had deliberately lied to Vice President Mike Pence and the FBI over phone calls with a Russian envoy on December 29, which may have violated federal law.
On social media, a few Trump critics were quick to point out the hypocrisy that led Flynn to this moment. During the July 2016 Republican National Convention, in which Trump accepted his nomination to run for president, Flynn joined crowds in chanting, “Lock her up!” in reference to Hillary Clinton, who had been accused of mishandling classified information by using a private email server. As the crowd chanted, Flynn said, “If I did a tenth of what she did, I would be in jail today.” (The FBI concluded that “no reasonable prosecutor” would bring a case against Clinton over the email issue.)
Flynn, meanwhile, was forced to resign a few weeks after he and Trump took office. According to US officials who spoke to the Washington Post and New York Times, Flynn had reportedly spoken to the Russian envoy about sanctions imposed on Russia and hinted that Trump would be willing to lift them. That may have put Flynn in violation of the Logan Act, an obscure law that prohibits people outside the executive branch from making foreign policyon behalf of the US administration. But no one has ever been prosecuted under the law, making a prosecution’s future uncertain.
The problems arose when it later came out that Flynn had lied to not only Pence about the phone call — but also the FBI. That could put him in the path of more serious criminal charges for lying to law enforcement investigators.
In his resignation letter, Flynn said that during “the fast pace of events” of the Trump transition period, he “inadvertently briefed the Vice President Elect and others with incomplete information regarding my phone calls with the Russian Ambassador.” It’s hard to imagine him accepting a similar excuse if Clinton had done something similar.
Summary: (Y/N) and Steve have been best friends since New York, so when when they are both going through a dry spell they agree to a friends with benefits relationship.
A/N: I’m making a Scarlet Witch Civil War cosplay for FanExpo in April and I think I bit off more that I can chew. I have about a month and a half to do everything and so far I’ve only cut out all the material. I should have probably just done Jessica Jones. I already have everything I need for her and wouldn’t have to sew anything.
Self promote: Follow my bookstagram @99bookproblemsI would really appreciate it.
Prompt: Michael and Sara throughout her pregnancy in an alternate universe where they are free and happy
Michael stares down at Sara, sweat clinging to her forehead, the tendrils of hair that have managed to escape the clip she’d used to pin them back now clung to her skin, refusing to let go. Her hand gripping his tightly, the circulation threatening to be cut off. His eyes following the pattern of his thumb, rubbing slow circles over the veins flowing with life.
The diamond of her ring digs into his finger as he grips her hand tightly, not wanting to lose her in the crowd, his other hand resting on the baseball cap of their son walking in front of him, the boy smacking his glove like he was ready to catch the ball.
The jersey he’d begged for his birthday lay across his back, a personalized Cubs memorabilia, size small, that still engulfed most of his body, with the name SCOFIELD bouncing with every step of the excited boy.
“Do you think I’ll catch a ball?” He asks, the usually shy boy never at a loss of questions when it came to his dad.
“I don’t know, buddy, we’ll have to see,” he says, squeezing Sara’s hand with a knowing grin, as they reach the outfield and wait for batting practice.
Sara sits down in one of the seats, her legs crossed, a hand covering her mouth, her eyes closed as if concentrating, while Michael and Mike stand up against the wall with their gloves, identical hats adorning them.
Michael looks back at Sara to see her eyes closed.
“Are you still sick?” He asks her, concern written all over his face, her assurances this morning doing nothing to calm his nerves as he stood watching her fight back what was clearly still there.
“I’m fine,” she assures him again, shoo’ing him to turn back to the task at hand, their son excitedly jumping and down at the prospect of getting a baseball.
But he doesn’t believe her, instead momentarily leaving Mike to take the seat next to her.
“Sara, if we need to go, it’s fine. I can take Mike another time,” his thumb traveling the hills of her knuckles in a soothing gesture.
“You don’t quit, do you, Scofield?” She asks with a smile, and his troubled eyes search her face for an indication of what she was talking about.
She turns to her purse, pulling out what looks like a blue t-shirt, and his brow knits together.
Placing the fabric in his hands, he holds it up to see it’s a onesie, a Cubs onesie to be exact, and as he turns it over, it too is personalized with SCOFIELD on the back.
His face melts into one of knowing, the excitement dancing across his eyes unable to hide anything, and he looks up at Sara, bringing the piece of clothing to his chest.
“Surprise,” she says.
Sara collapses back against the bed, completely out of breath, and Michael’s free hand finds its way to her forehead, pushing back the resistant hair. Her eyes close in exhaustion as voices float around them.
“I don’t remember having this much morning sickness when I was pregnant with Mike,” she says, as her head sinks down to the toilet seat, the cool surface providing a relief from the sudden heat that had engulfed her in its grasp, forcing her to get sick.
His hand moves to pull back her hair, as he sits on the opposite side, staring at his wife cling to the toilet like it was were her lifeline.
“I read that means it’s a girl,” he says softly, as her eyes close, and she focuses on breathing, willing the nausea away.
“Oh yeah, which baby book did you get that from?” She teases, acknowledging the stack of books that line his side of the bed on the nightstand.
“You mock, but I’m going to be so informed, you’ll be coming to me for answers,” he says, holding up his finger in a matter of fact way.
She lets out a little laugh. And although he knows that she’s done this all before, it’s new to him, and he’s determined to be the most over informed dad about all of this. Even spreading his enthusiasm to their son, Mike constantly spouting off facts to them about how big the baby is now.
“A girl, huh?” She asks, through closed eyes. “It might be nice to even the score out a little.”
Sara brings her hand down, having been pierced with an IV, and rests it against her stomach, as what was once able to splay across the expanse of her skin now lay small in comparison. Michael’s excitement having grown with every inch of her waist.
“You really think I’m showing already?” She asks him, sitting back in the patio chair, her hand instinctively coming to rest upon her small stomach.
Michael adjusts the cap on his head with a smile.
“I don’t think, I know,” he corrects, nodding his head to where her hand lay.
Mike shoves another french fry in his mouth, dripping with ketchup that lands with a plop on his shirt.
“Oops,” he says with a frown.
“No big deal, bud,” Michael says, passing him a napkin, as the boy goes back to eating.
“You don’t think your mom is getting big, do you, baby?” She asks her son who stops eating, pausing his fry in mid-air, as he leans over, his sweet brown eyes looking at her.
“The baby’s four inches big now you’re supposed to look bigger,” he says, matter of factly, spurting off a fact that he surely learned from his dad.
Michael laughs, knowing that he’s right.
“You laugh now, mister. But you’ve never seen me when I’m huge…” She starts, but immediately stops when she sees his face fall, a contemplative look overtakin him. “Michael, I didn’t mean…” she pleads, reaching across the table for him, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair, his hands pressed up against his mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he assures her, glancing over at Mike, who’s picked up on what they’re saying, and stops eating.
“I haven’t seen her when she’s huge either,” Mike offers, a shy smile thrown at his dad.
Michael smiles into his hands at his son.
“A first for us both then, huh?” And Mike nods with a grin, shoving another fry into his mouth.
The voices around them blur into one, the encouragement having been blocked, focusing only on each other and the task at hand. The beeping of the machine is the only sound cutting through the fog, a steady reminder that everything was okay, the death grip and grimace only temporary for the promise of forever.
Michael adjusts his glasses, his day having started late this morning, and a frantic rush had left him with no other option than to sport the glasses he never really cared for.
He put on a brave face for Mike, having a matching set, but his mind often mocked him, that he was old, that grey hair and glasses made him too old for this.
“You nervous?” She asks, laying down on the exam table, shirt pulled up, and cold gel being spread on her expanding stomach. No longer able to deny that she was most definitely showing, even if it were only a little.
“No,” he scoffs, and then adjusts his frames again, his idle hands needing to have something to do in that time of uncertainty.
The last time they were here, he’d cried, and he wasn’t even ashamed to say so. The sound of their baby’s heartbeat a sound that he found his own heart thumping to the beat of.
But the image being displayed to him right now, a baby that actually looked like an actual baby, that was a moment he’d gladly have tattooed in his mind for the foreseeable future.
A tiny hand resting by its head, spread out, as if counting down the months until he could meet this sweet baby.
“It looks like the baby’s waving to you,” Sara jokes, swatting at his stomach, until he bends down, glancing over at her, but only briefly, unable to take his eyes off the baby.
“That’s…ours,” he says, choked up, a goofy smile present. And he can see the grin of his wife out of the corner of his eye at his comment. As their hands intertwine, and grabbing her’s with both of his, as if gripping her extra tight would somehow transfer to the baby inside her.
That steady swoosh from before now present in the form of a beep, keeping time with its sound. The doctor giving her a brief break, and she’s fed an ice chip, that she gladly sucks on, the only form of sustenance she’s had in hours, her once odd cravings giving way to relishing the smooth, wet relief of crushed ice.
Sitting on the couch, her feet rest on the coffee table, Mike sitting quietly beside her playing his video game, she leans her head to the side, eying Michael in the chair next to her.
“Yes,” he asks, not looking up what he’s reading, but sensing that she’s looking at him.
“I’m hungry,” she starts, which is how it had been lately. He nearly bites his lip to keep the grin from appearing, knowing that her next request was likely to gross him out completely.
“What can I get for you?” He asks, putting down his phone, popping an M&M into his mouth from the package resting in his lap.
“Not that,” she gestures to the peanut treat he always seemed to have with him.
He laughs, never getting tired of her relentless teasing over his snack of choice.
“Pineapple,” she says, her eyes going wide at the thought.
He cocks his head, a seemingly normal request having been asked of him.
“…with mayonnaise,” she finishes, and that catches Mike’s attention.
“Eww,” her son says with a cringe.
“Eww?” She taunts. “What are you talking about that sounds so good,” she says, leaning over to tickle the boy. He grabs at her hands, giggling uncontrollably on the couch. Finally surrounding, she settles back into her cushion, her hands coming to rest on her bump.
“Pineapple with mayonnaise?” He asks, hoping she’d change her mind, but she nods at him instead. “And you make fun of me for putting it on pizza…,” he dares with a wink towards her.
And he only slightly grimaces with Mike as he watches her smother the fruit in the condiment.
“Okay, Mama, one more push, and the head should be out,” he can hear the doctor say, but all his focus is on Sara, who seems to be struggling, an exhausted, frustrated look haunting her face. Her hand is ghost white against his own, and her head is shaking back and forth as if she’s saying no.
“This is impossible,” she huffs.
He looks up at her, surrounded by pieces of the crib, as she sits with the manual, reading out loud to him the instructions.
“I mean this doesn’t even make sense. There are so many parts. How is anyone supposed to figure this out?” Her face is almost amused at the sheer amount of directions for a relatively simple looking contraption.
“Did you forget you were married to a structural engineer?” He quips, as if this is going to be a piece of cake.
She flops down the manual, her legs crossed, and her stomach hanging over, touching her feet as she bends over to get a good look at all the pieces.
“Oh yeah? So where does this piece go?” She says, grabbing a stray piece that she couldn’t even identify as to what part of the crib it was.
He grabs the piece, twisting it around with his long fingers, a squinted look appearing, as he tried to figure out what the hell he was looking at.
“I’ve broken out of a dozen prisons, you’d think I could figure out how to put together a crib,” he says, making a grab for the manual that still left him puzzled, defeat leaving him frustrated at being stumped.
“What are you guys doing?” Mike asks, entering into the room, before coming to sit in his dad’s lap.
Michael wraps his arms around him, placing the manual in front of both of them.
“Trying to figure out this crib situation,” he mumbles, concentrating on the task.
Mike looks at the picture in front of him, and then searches the room.
On his hands and knees he crawls to a set of pieces.
“It’s easy, you just put this piece here…” he says, easily gliding the pieces together after only seconds of looking at the instructions.
“Our son’s a genius,” Sara confirms, throwing her hands up in the air.
Michael leans down, his forehead, coming to rest on her sweaty head, his lips a whisper away from her ear.
“You can do this,” he mutters into her. “You’re the strongest person I know,” he assures her, the thought of her doing this alone last time leaving him shuddering at what was taken from him.
Her eyelashes flutter shut, a deep sigh at his words rattling against him.
He whispers quietly against her, his hands smoothly planted on the curvature of her stomach, the soft kicks against his hand leaving him with a toothy smile, as his words excite the baby.
“I can’t wait to meet you,” he quietly says in the dark of the night. “I wasn’t here for your brother’s birth, and I can never replace that, but I’m gonna be here for you both, always,” he continues, this kick stronger, one that he assumed would jolt Sara awake, as he peeks up at her, only to find a set of hazel eyes staring right at him with a teary grin.
“Don’t stop now,” she encourages, placing her hand atop of his. “Baby likes your voice,” she says with a nod.
A shy heat covers his face at being caught of his nightly talks with his younger child. Not wanting the baby to feel left out, given how frequently he chats with Mike.
“Did I tell you that you have the most amazing Mom?” He says to the baby, his lips an inch away from her skin, sending goosebumps across her whole body, earning him another kick.
“Your dad’s pretty amazing too,” Sara says, squeezing his hand.
Sara nods, heaving herself up into position again, waiting for the go, and then she’s pushing, pulling all the strength left her small frame, except for the guttural sound coming from her throat in the form of the name “Michael.”
“What about Lily?” He asks, stopped at a red light, his hands drumming on the steering wheel, Sara sitting shot gun, thumbing through one of Michael’s books that he’d bought at the beginning of her pregnancy.
“Too cutesy,” she immediately shoots down.
“Okay,” he says, his sunglasses blocking his disappointment at yet another name being turned down. Although, in fairness, he’d shot down several of her names too.
“At this rate, this baby isn’t going to have a name,” she declares, neither of them being able to decide, much like last time. “So stubborn,” she jokes with him.
“I’m not stubborn, I just want a good name. One with meaning that isn’t Sara Jr.,” he jokes back at her, in reference to the argument they’d had when she was pregnant with Mike.
“Yep, this baby is gonna be nameless. We should just name him or her Michael too and call it a day,” she says with a wicked grin, knowing how much he had fought with her not to name Mike after him, only conceding eventually after she’d promised him not to use the nickname Junior.
“We’ll find a name” he says, turning to her, as the light turns green, grabbing her hand. “Just have a little faith.”
He’s not sure what he had been expecting, the thought of seeing his child be born nothing more than dream that he’d replayed over and over in his mind for the last nine years, now a reality.
He stands enamored at the little girl resting in his arms, her whole body not even as long as his forearm, his hand supporting most of her weight.
Her dark hair peeks out from her little hat, her pink lips puckered, blowing little bubbles at him, the awe of the moment only just now hitting him.
Her soft cries at echoed through the room, and quickly settled as Sara told the nurse to place her into his arms first, no longer willing to deny him the moment.
He’d hesitated, afraid he’d hurt her, but upon Sara’s nod, he’d delicately wrapped his arm around his baby, his little girl, who had already imprisoned his heart in his little fist.
His finger moves to trace the lines of her chubby face, her long lashes closed, at his path of discovery. Upon stroking her tiny hand, it opens, capturing the tip of his pointer finger, and closes, wrapping him around her finger, her grip not even big enough to fit all the way around, but strong, like her mom, he decides.
He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until traitor drops onto her blanket, and that’s when he glances up to find Sara, a wide, dimpled smile staring up at him, her hand on he chest, like her heart would burst from its place if she took it away.
“She’s perfect,” he tells her, looking back at the sleeping girl, as she continues holding his finger, the combination of a lifetime’s worth of suffering, the fight for family, leading to the meeting of Sara, the birth of their son, and eventually the birth of their daughter, this moment, and suddenly everything finally made sense.
It’s only when Lincoln brings Mike in, that he sits on the bed next to Sara, passing the baby over to her, Mike climbing into his lap.
“This is your sister, Mike,” Sara says.
“Hi, Isla,” he says, her little first wrapping around Mike’s finger the same way it had Michael’s. His babies already sharing a bond that he hoped they would, like him and his brother.
“Isla?” Lincoln asks from the foot of the bed.
“Isla Faith,” Michael whispers.
“Scofield,” Sara adds with a smile across the heads of their babies.
You sit on Dan’s bed, scrolling through the live stream chat on your phone. Dan had just started his live stream, and you weren’t in the mood to be in it but still wanted to be near Dan. You and him had announced your relationship just a week ago and haven’t gotten the chance to see how the fans took it. By your guess, most of them would be really mad at you and saying how your broke Phan, and other crap.
“Hey Rowan, Mike, Micheal, Avery, Carley, John, Ashley-” You hear Dan say as he reads off of the chat. “Oh the reason I sound different is because I have been sick the past two days.”
“I told you take the cold medicine before the live stream but you wouldn’t do it,” You tell Dan.
“Sorry about her, she just doesn’t know when to stop talking,” Dan jokes.
“Oh sut up Howell,” You say, you grab one of Dan’s pillows and fling it across the room, hitting Dan.
“Thanks for that Y/N” Dan says with a laugh. He turns back around to continue with his live stream.
Relationship Goals! You read off of the chat. Some of the fans seemed to be reacting alright, respecting Dan but others were bashing out. For instance you read a comment saying that you don’t deserve Dan and should break up with him. Then again this just general hate.
“Daaaaaannnnn I’m hungry,” You say.
“Then get your lazy but up!” Dan jokes again. You squirm off of the bed and walk over, waving at the web camera.
“Hey guys,” You say. The chat then began to explode with comments about you.
Aw they are so cute. I ship it!
Why are they even together?
What about Phan?!
Y/N doesn’t deserve Dan.
Ugh it’s Y/N
I wish they would break up.
“This needs to stop it is getting annoying and all of you are being a bunch of twats,” Dan begins.
“It’s fine Dan,” You tell him.
“No its not,” Dan replies. “I get that some of you may be mad but telling someone they don’t deserve someone or wishing that they would break up is rude. We are real people, not fictional characters.”
“I wouldn’t mind being a fictional character though,” You cut in, trying to break the seriousness.
“Y/N I’m trying to be serious,” Dan says, trying not to laugh.
“Well you aren’t doing a good job re you?” You reply.
“I love Y/N alright? She makes me happy, and it still means Phil and I will remain friends. I’m not going anywhere I would never do that to Phil,” Dan says. “So all of you need to just accept that I’m happy with her.” You smile and lean in to kiss Dan on the cheek but he turns his head causing you to kiss his ear.
“You missed,” Dan says. You smiled again and this time you kissed him on the lips. You then walk out of Dan’s room and into the kitchen.
I knew my Uncle Mike’s body would look hot as fuck in this outfit. I’d tried it on for myself after I bought it, sure, but the whole thing looked stupid on my pathetic little body. What I really needed to fill it out was Uncle Mike’s sexy body, with his tattoos and muscles, and especially his hot ass.
I went over to his place on Saturday night with the full outfit in stuffed in my duffel bag. I knocked him out as soon as he answered the door, and then hopped into his body. From the buzz I felt once I was inside of him, I could tell that he had been at home alone drinking. It felt nice. I let out a dumb chuckle with his deep, husky voice.
I gave myself a few moments to settle into his body, cracked open another beer from his fridge, and then started getting dressed in the clothing I had brought with me. The jockstrap, the harness, the snapback. It felt so perfect sliding into all of it now that I was wearing his body.
When I was done, I went to his bedroom mirror to see how it looked on me. Fuck, it was just as hot as I had imagined it. I took a few pics with my phone and then checked the time. I’d have to hurry to make it to the club by 10. I’d shown up there the past couple weekends in my uncle’s body, and the owner had taken notice. He had offered me a new job dancing for tips a couple nights a week, and his was my first opportunity to show him just how good I was at working my uncle’s body. If it all worked out, I’d have to start hopping into Uncle Mike much more frequently.
The rest of the day went by fast and after diner Anna was tired and went to bed early.
You and Mike were sitting outside drinking a beer.
“You know Anna is going to find out if you keep reacting like you did today about a motorcycle.” You say to him.
“I just want to forget that part of my life.”
“Well she doesn’t know why you stopped riding. Till then she is going to keep asking. I’m surprised she didn’t ask anything about the blacked out tattoo you got.” You look at him and you can see he’s worried.
“I just… I just can’t tell her what happened. I can’t tell her I killed a man for that club. That you almost got killed because of them and that were making this trip because we have to run from them. I can’t tell her that.”
“I know Mike but you also can’t tell her anything. You have to give her a explanation. You know Anna she’s going to keep digging till she knows something.”
Both of you kept drinking your beer. Not saying anything to each other. Just looking to the stars on the sky above you.
It was a warm day. You were waiting outside for Gemma. You had some blue jeans on and a black tank top. With a letter brown jacket over it. Your bag was hanging from your shoulder. You were looking at your phone looking for some message saying Gemma was going to be late. Nothing you look to both sides of the street looking for something coming your way. A cars is coming your way. He doesn’t slow down and passes you. You started walking towards the TM. Your phone ringed and you saw you got a message from Gemma.
Can’t make it. I sended Tig to pick you up.
In the distance you heard the sound of a motor. You look towards it and you saw a Harley riding towards you. The person driving it looked alot like Tig. The bike comes closer. The sound getting louder and louder. The bike stopped in front of you and you were now 100% sure it was Tig. He looked towards you. You saw he was wearing a cut with the tags SON AT ARMS on his right side.
“Hello again.” He says with a smile. “Get on it we will be late.” He says handing you a helmet. You took it from him and putted it on your head. You were ready to get on the bike when you saw the back of his cut. SONS OF ANARCHY with the reaper under it and CALIFORNIA. You recognise the name right away. Mike’s old motor club was always in problems with them so the name was not hard to recognise. You took a few deep breaths and got on the back of his bike. You needed this job. You needed the money to pay for the repairs so the 3 of you could leave as soon as possible. You were just going to stay away from the people of the club. You will try to be as invisible as possible.
“You can steady yourself with your hands on my waist.” Tig says “I don’t bite if you don’t want too.”
You gave him a small chuckle. You rested your hands on his waist and he rides away.
After a few minutes Tig pulled up to the TM parking lot. He parked his bike next to the other bikes already parked. You got off his bike and got the helmet off. You looked towards the office and you saw Gemma leaving and started walking towards you.
Tig stepped from his bike. He looks towards you with a smile on his face. You handled the helmet to him. He hanged the helmets on the motor steering wheel.
“Tig they’re waiting for you in church.” Gemma says. Tig nods towards her and walks away towards another building. You looked at Gemma and you saw that she was studying your facial expression. “Come on. I will show you around the garage and explain what I need you to help me with.” You nod at her and both of you started walking towards the office.
After a hour you were helping Gemma making the invoice.
“I will be right back.” She says to you walking out of the office. Threw the window you saw several man walk out of the building on the other side of the parking lot. Two of the men you recognised. Tig and Juice. Gemma walked towards on of the men. They were talking about something and then both started walking towards the office. You looked back towards the papers in front of you.
“Y/N.” You looked up towards Gemma. “This is my husband Clay.” She says.
He was looking at you from head to to. “Nice to meet you.” You say to him with a smile. His cut said PRESIDENT.
He smiled at you. “Nice to meet you too.” He looked back to Gemma. “I have to go I see you later.” and gives her a kiss. She nods her head towards him and she watches him leave the office. You saw Clay walk towards a another men. He had long blond hair.
“That’s my son.” Gemma says. You look immediately towards her. “Jax.. Tig and Juice you already know. The scott man with the scar on his face his Chibs.” You looked outside again. “The man next to Chibs is Bobby and there is Oppie.” She says. You saw another man come out of the building. You look towards her. She is looking at you liking she is waiting for an answer. You just give her a little smile. “Let’s get to work again.” She says after she wasn’t getting the reaction she wanted from you. You hear the motors start and leave the parking lot.
For the rest of the day she was keeping a close eye on you. She was pretty much making you nervous. You phone ranged and you saw on the caller ID Mike. You didn’t answer and just got to work again.
“Boyfriend?” Gemma says
“No. Happily single. Friend I’m traveling with.” You said to her.
“The one from yesterday?” She says quickly. You looked at her confused. “Tig saw you yesterday and he told me he saw you walking with a guy and a girl.”
You smiled and said. “Yes. They’re my traveling partners.”
She smiles at you and the sound of motors start to get louder and louder. Gemma stands from her seat and walks outside.
“Hey Baby..” Gemma says towards Clay. “How did it go?”
“Could be worse.” Jax responds. “You have a new employee?” He says looking towards you.
“Yeah nice girl. Quite too.” Gemma says “And Tig.” Tig looks towards Gemma immediately. “She’s still single but I don’t think she’s into bikers!”
“Is that a challenge?” Tig says with a smile and starts walking towards the office.
The rest of the man just laugh and watch him walk towards you.
“I think she’s more into someone like Juice.” Gemma says. Juice looks towards Gemma and smiles.
“Hey..” You look up towards the voice and you saw Tig standing at the door frame looking towards you. “Is everything going okay?”
“Yeah it’s fine. It’s my first day so a lot of searching for the right papers.” You say with a smile.
“If you need help you can ask me.” Tig says his voice softer than before.
“Come on Tiggy, we have to work.” a man with scottish accent says behind him.
He pulls Tig of his way and walk into the office. “Hi lad’s, I’m Chibs.”
“Y/N.” You said to him.
“Nice to meet you.” He looks towards Tig again. “Tig come on. You have to help me with her car.”
Tig nobs towards him and walks behind him to garage.
The rest of the day passed pretty fast. All of the man come into the office to present them self. You laughed with Bobby and Jax. Juice was a little nervous but very sweet. Ans at the end the day you knew every one of them and what they did at the garage. They all gave you a little bit of their attention to you and when you had questions Tig and Chibs helped you with everything.
The day was over and when you were getting everything together to leave. Juice walked into the office.
“I will take you home.”
“Thank you Juice.” You said reaching for you phone. “But I can walk and I need a little bit of fresh hair.”
“I want to.” He says with a smile. You smiled back at him and both of you walked towards his bike. You looked to the entrance of the parking lot and you saw Mike walk towards it.
“I think I will walk.” You said to him. “My friend just came to pick me up.” He looks the same way you do and sees Mike in front of the entrance waiting for you.
“Well I will see you tomorrow than.” Juice says.
“See you tomorrow.” You said to him walking towards Mike.
“Weren’t you spoke to bring her home.” Tig says walking towards Juice.
Juice looked towards him. “Yeah but her friend just showed up.”
Tig looks towards you and Mike.
“Come on Tig.” Juice says. He nod his head and walks with Juice into the clubhouse.
A.N.: Heey. So what do you thing of the story till now? It’s the first time I write something for SAMCRO fanfiction. So pleace tell me what you think about it!
@the-queen-of-thedas submitted this: “
A Titan from Greek mythology in our modern day/ era.” Which I thought was pretty swell!
I thought I’d fill it (though I’m not entirely sure it was a prompt, haha)
The world is filled with untold stories, Rhea knows. She’s one of them, walking through downtown Chicago like a human, winter coat barely able to stave off the chilling breeze. If she is a story, untold or not, she would be a closed one. She has pressed her covers together, hiding her contents, and welded her spine shut.
Some of the humans think that they’ve lost Gaea to asphalt and concrete, steel and iron, industry and pillaging. They’re not wrong, but they’re not right either. Rhea can feel her mother thrumming under her feet just fine, just as her father still shines bright and silent above.
Magic is not gone, it has evolved, it has become elusive to the ways of Titans. Rhea is fine with that. She’d lost the right to the world a long time ago.
Her name is Rhea in this new age, Rhea again, Rhea always. They don’t know the stories anymore (hers is untold even in the divine) and there’s no risk.
So her name is Rhea and she is as human as someone like her can be.