#This post brought to you by me changing radio stations at exactly the right moment

[literary-potato]

(Youth pastor voice)

You know, mankind was also locked out of heaven for too lo-o-o-o-ong

[phillipcole]

Post-AGT Appearance 1251: Joe Kelly WCOL fm 92.3 May 29

Some stations would start playing that short clip, especially in NBA cities.  The comment about Lebron James would get more attention, especially in Ohio.  My agent would find out and insist on one more short radio interview.  He would pick one of his newer clients and tell him exactly what to ask.  That would be Joe Kelly on WCOL fm 92.3, a country station in Ohio.  He hosts a show from 7 to midnight and they would stop me at a rest area on my way to a performance, about 8: 30 pm eastern time, moments after the tip off of game 7.

Kelly: Welcome back to 92.3.  This is Joe Kelly and I know you’re tempted to watch the game but stay with me at least the next few minutes.  On the line I have Phil Cole of Phillip and Cole’s Variety Team, ready to talk about the game.  Phil can you hear me?

PBC: Yes I can.

Kelly: Perfect, well you made news 2 weeks ago when you predicted the Celtics would come back and beat Philadelphia.

PBC: I guess I did.

Kelly: Then you said they would proceed to win the championship.

PBC: Yes I did.

Kelly: well, for a while it didn’t look good, but they came back and forced a game 7 against the Miami Heat.

PBC: Yes they did.

Kelly: Game 7 is starting now.  Do you think the Celtics can win it?

PBC: Of course; it’s one game.  Anyone can win one game.

Kelly: Now Phil, the other thing is, today you added that LeBron James has nothing left to prove.

PBC: Right, no one remembers if you won 5 championships or 6.  They remember you scored the most points.

Kelly: Jabbar won 6.  Chamberlain had 2 and some of the Celtics...

PBC: Bill Russell won 11 championships in 13 years, the last 2 as player coach.  You’ll never top that.

Kelly: So, what do you feel about LeBron, as a whole.

PBC: Remember I’m not a fan, but I heard he changed teams twice when he saw that the team was sagging and couldn’t win any more.

Kelly: So you think he should have stayed in Cleveland.

PBC: yes I do.  Maybe by now they’d be back in the finals and he’d be on the short list of people who brought a team to the top twice.

Kelly: Who else did that?

PBC: In Boston it was Havlicek and Don Nelson.  They stayed with the Celtics from the last Russell years, stayed when they dropped to the bottom, came back and won 2 more.

Kelly: Anyone else?

PBC: Not in the NBA I don’t think.

Kelly: So Phil, I know you have to go, but what’s your next big project that we can all see?

PBC: The next movie is called Demon Dress, out August 25.

Kelly: It’s for women?

PBC: A horror film with a lot of women in it.  So it’s for everyone.  Teenage boys will get a thrill.

Kelly: Well, I’m still a teenage boy at heart, so I might go see it.  Thanks Phil.

PBC: My pleasure.

Kelly: Stay tuned for more country hits.

[blush-and-books]

The End of Julie and the Phantoms - A [very long] Theory

The core of this theory was inspired by many posts that I have seen saying that Julie’s “everything was a dream” shirt may have insinuated that nothing happening on the show is actually reality. I brought my series finale pitch to my dear friend @willexx who then helped me develop this headcanon into something I cried about during lunch. 

It starts out pretty heavy, but there are some little light things here and there because it’s what the himbos would have wanted.

We start here:

In the last episode, the boys are ready too cross over. It’s an emotional moment for everyone, they’re crying, Julie is sobbing, and we as an audience have definitely seen better days. With one last “we love you, Julie,” a flash of light overtakes the garage space, blinding our screens. 

The scene flashes to Julie lying in bed, waking up from her ringing alarm. 

She is visibly confused, clearly wondering how she got to bed when the last thing that she remembers is the boys’ painful departure. When she reaches for her phone to turn off her alarm -- it’s a school day -- she quickly notices the date:

It’s the same day in 2020 that she met the boys, that she was going to clean out her mom’s garage, and that she had to perform to keep her spot in the music program. 

So, none of it was real?

Not exactly. 

The experience was a sort of dream-like saga that was designed for her to be able to grieve on her own, and rediscover her voice in her own way. But just as the panic sets in that it was a complete figment of her imagination, the feeling of cold metal on her left hand becomes too hard to ignore: One of Luke’s rings. 

Reggie’s leather jacket is hanging in her closet.

Alex’s fanny pack is slung across the back of a chair. 

But when she runs downstairs, clad in her dinosaur slippers, rushing to the garage to see if the guys were there -- they aren’t. They have crossed over. 

As she moves through the day, she’s a new Julie, but everything else is the same. Instead of a baseball cap and low ponytail, Julie throws on her black jeans and Reggie’s leather and lets her hair run wild. She’s displaying a confidence that Flynn hasn’t seen in a long time, that seemed to have hit Julie overnight. 

Julie sings Wake Up in music, and keeps her spot in the program. She doesn’t oogle Nick in the halls and she tells Carrie off when there’s an attempt at an insult made. 

Real or not, the boys helped her. They did their job. 

When she gets home, and Ray irks her about cleaning the garage or selling the house, she is quick to insist that she doesn’t want to move and that if he needs her for the rest of the night, she’ll be in her mother’s studio.

There aren’t any instruments except for the piano, and the space has the original layer of dust that it had before her and the guys started using the space again. Julie feels empty. But she reminds herself that the ring on her finger is real, extremely real, so she retraces her steps that she had taken in the first episode and tracks down the Sunset Curve demo CD, puts it in the stereo, and plays it. 

Nothing happens. Or, at least -- nothing that she could see.

The camera pans up as Julie is hard at work to organize the garage, and we see the boys in the chairs on the ceiling, watching over her fondly. 

~This is where @willexx started to throw in some epic ideas~

The boys are real, and they have crossed over, which renders Julie unable to see them. However, in her reset reality without them, no one remembers Julie and the Phantoms or the fact that the boys existed in the first place. The boys, while she can’t see them, visit her and try to make contact with her as much as they can, even though their times with her are limited since they are supposed to be on the other side.

She’ll feel a ghost of a touch on her hand or her hair, and know that Luke is there. When she’s in the car and the radio is on a country station, she knows that it’s Reggie. In a journal for school, a small “okay” will be written in the corner of a page, and it is Alex. These little notes keep her going, and she’ll just sigh and say “my boys,” and leave everyone around her confused. 

Sometimes, when she wakes up in the morning, the demo tape can be heard playing in the garage. Somehow she’ll get filled with hope that if she runs into the garage, the boys will be there rocking out without her like she used to scold them for left and right -- but no one is there. Ray comments that the stereo is broken and Julie has no choice but to nod along. 

One day she finds Luke’s songbook that had been buried in the plastic garbage bags of the boys’ belongings. She still brings Unsaid Emily to his parents, and she cries herself to sleep that night. 

When Julie blows up as a solo artist, she actually records Unsaid Emily, and she records Bright, and all of the other songs that her and Luke wrote together. Luke Patterson is in the writing credits for many of the songs, where Trevor never bothered to list him, and a part of Luke is at piece. 

On the two year anniversary of Rose’s passing, Julie finds Luke’s “angst flannel.” Ray asks where she got it; she tells him a thrift store. But it feels warm, like all of the guys are there, hugging her. 

Another morning, she could swear that Luke and Reggie are strumming out Flying Solo on level one volume, and once again finds herself darting to the garage with no good excuse except to keep her hopes up. They, unsurprisingly, aren’t there -- but a note is, that says “you’re a star, Jules. We love you.”

The handwriting is messy. She knows it’s from Luke, who probably fought the boys to even write the note because he just wanted to talk to her even though they need to move on and his handwriting is awful. The note gets tucked into the pocket of the flannel, and when she needs to be reminded that she’ll be okay, she pulls it out of the pocket and holds it tight. 

Before every show, she reads the note, and mumbles a little prayer to them wherever they are -- even if no one else believes they are real. 

When Luke’s flannel starts to lose it’s original sweet scent of Emily and Mitch’s house, Julie spends an hour crying on the floor of her bathroom. A faded orange beanie appears in her room the next day. 

Little notes from Luke appear here and there, but never from any of the guys. In the shadows where she can’t see them, Alex tells Luke that in order for both themselves and Julie to move on, Luke needs to stop leaving her notes -- so most of the ones that Julie finds are even more messy than usual, like Luke was trying to write them without the guys noticing. 

During one of their forbidden conversations, Julie says to Luke: “hey, I never told you this before... But I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know what I would do without knowing that you guys were still around. I think I would have lost my mind, and would have been convinced that I went crazy.”

Luke could have ran to Alex, repeated Julie’s tearful words, and given the drummer a fat “I told you so.” But he doesn’t. Julie’s validation is the only validation that he needs. 

Whenever her and Carlos and Ray make an extra seat at their dinner table for Rose, Julie imagines, deep in her mind, that it is for Reggie too. Reggie deserved a seat at their table; deserved to be a part of their family. A family that would have loved him.  And when a fork falls off of the table, Julie knows he’s there. One day, Julie asks Ray how he would have felt about having another son. He responds confused, and Julie gets tears in her eyes, and neither of them bring it up again.

When Julie and Flynn go to Pride together, Julie wears Alex’s fanny pack even though she hadn’t gotten any signs from him since they had all moved on. He still doesn’t reach out afterwards, too overwhelmed by her gesture to think of a way to properly extend his gratitude and love for the girl who is keeping his spirit alive -- but Luke lets her know that he was grateful. 

Luke still visits Julie like he visits Emily and Mitch. And on Luke’s birthday every year, Julie goes to a little bakery after school and buys herself a cupcake; sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night to light a candle and sing happy birthday. When she lights the candle, the candle gets blown out. Every year after that first year, she gets candles that you have to turn on and off so that Luke can’t ruin the moment. 

(He ends up throwing the fake candle on the ground out of retaliation.)

Julie is so emotionally stable for the most part that the complete change is a shock to Ray. He tries to ask her what happened, but she always acts like nothing happened and then hides in her room for hours. Sometimes, she makes random little comments out of the blew and Ray has many conversations with Victoria on whether or not he should have Julie seeing Dr. Turner again. 

At her first solo concert, Julie walks into the dressing room to find “Stand Tall” written three times, in three different handwriting styles, in red, pink, and blue. The message in blue is the messiest by far, and is followed up with a heart. 

The name of Julie’s first album is Phantoms. 

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Maybe WE don’t believe in YOU!

It’s throwback Thursday time ... this is a goodie from 2009 (dragged kicking and screaming from Gossamer) ... oi, these things amuse me at times :)

any and all errors are from the original post and have not been changed to preserve giggles and chuckles :)

@today-in-fic​

&&&&&&&&&&

He saw her sitting halfway up the bleachers, amidst yelling parents and clapping children. He knew she'd gone outside a good 15 minutes ago but since she'd neglected to come back, he though he'd better go and collect her. He didn't move fast, more at his usual long-strided amble given there wasn't much to hurry about anymore. Since the police station was next to the elementary school fields, he didn't have far to walk; soon standing beside the rickety aluminum riser seats.

She didn’t notice him at first but when she did a general sweep of her surroundings, as was natural habit at this point, she lit on his face staring up at her and with a barely noticed head-tilt, she gave him a half smile.

Figuring this was an invite of the most discreet kind, he picked his way through the scattered crowd, settling next to her without a word. Silently, they sat together through the last minutes of the game as well as through the exodus of people, kids, strollers and family dogs.

It wasn't until the last person stepped off the field that Mulder turned to her, squinting against the late afternoon sun, "hi."

Pushing her hair back, only to have the light breeze ruffle it again, "hi."

"So, got a little tired of Sheriff Blowhard and his parade of blightless minions?"

"A little. There's only so much blowharding and blightlessness one can take. Besides,” nodding towards the now deserted field, "they looked like they needed another fan."

Knocking shoulders with her gently, "you know, if we get our paperwork done, we can get the hell out of Dodge."

Holding silent for a moment, "promise me our next case won't be like this. I don't think I can do this again anytime soon."

"Well, I'll try to order us up a nice, juicy monster but don't hold your breath."

"Just promise to try. That's all I ask."

One glance into her tired, dull eyes made him nod, "promise."

"All right then." Standing and holding her hand out to him, "let's, as you put it, get the hell out of Dodge."

"If only the place was actually called Dodge."

"Getting the hell out of Parson Village doesn't exactly have the same ring to it, does it?"

Finally down on the ground, they walked back across the parking lot, "not really."

&&&&&&&&&

Working through the last of the forms, they said good-bye and left, glad to be leaving the place behind them. The drive back to the hotel was quiet but a companionable quiet, one where Mulder left the radio off and Scully stared out the open window, enjoying the fresh air and the colors of the setting sun.

Back at the hotel, "do you still want to leave now or wait until the morning?"

He knew she would prefer to go than stay and since he wasn't tired, "now works for me." Checking out went by in a flash and once Mulder had made a not so secretive trip to the vending machines, they were off, "you sure you want to drive first? I'm awake."

Scully just turned the car on, "I'm good for now. I'll let you know when it's your turn."

"Fair enough." Putting his seat back to a decent incline, he settled in, "mind if we keep the windows open for awhile?"

She gave him a smile, "as long as you don't mind me having the wind blown look."

"Naw, you wear it well."

"Okay, now you're just buttering me up."

With a laugh, he rested one arm at his side, the other on the middle compartment, hand dangling by the shifter, "just say thanks, Scully."

"Thanks, Mulder."

He was feeling a bit mischievous but held off until they had been on the road for a few minutes. From his position, he could tell no one else was on the quiet country road and in a fairly nonchalant way, he made like he was turning on the radio but instead, pushed the shifter forward into neutral.

The engine revved, Scully looked around in panic, then saw Mulder's hand beside the stick, "what the hell?" Shoving it back in drive, she swung and hit him near full force in the chest, "are you insane?"

Now for the fun part.

Wincing, he curled his arms to his chest, pretending the blow had actually hurt him, "damn. I was just gonna turn the radio on. I bumped it on accident." Plastering an appropriate grimace on his face, "there's less painful ways to kill me, you know."

Her face scrunching in honest apology, "I'm so sorry. I thought you did it on purpose. I … I'm sorry."

Rubbing his chest for good measure, "remind me to ask before moving next time." The urge to laugh nearly won but he held it in, "I feel extremely sorry for any suspects on the receiving end of your fist."

Automatically reaching over, she wrapped her hand around his forearm, "I'm sorry."

"S'okay." Wondering how long she'd keep her hand there, "was kind of funny though, wasn't it?"

She shrugged, "maybe it will be later but right now, I just feel bad."

"No harm, no foul, right?"

Keeping her hand on him with no sign of letting go, "right."

&&&&&&&&&

They switched places a few hours later, Scully beginning to yawn and stretch to keep herself awake. Mulder, who'd managed a nap, readjusted the seat and mirrors before looking over at her, "all set?" Head already lolling on the seat and eyes closed, she only nodded.  As always amused by the swiftness she could fall asleep, he pulled the car out of the gas station and back on the freeway.She slept for about a half-hour, then woke again when he hit a bump in the road, "sorry."

Shaking the cobwebs from her brain, "no, it's okay." After re-positioning the seat back, she stared out the window for a minute before, "where are we, anyway?"

When he turned to look around, she swiftly reached over, flipping a small switch on the dash, "we're about 10 miles from the middle of nowhere."

"That's specific."

He gave her a lopsided grin before looking back through the windshield.

She wondered how long it would take for him to notice.

Not long, she soon discovered.

Taking a cursory glance at the speedometer, he slammed on the brakes, throwing them both forward slightly, "what the hell?" When he had looked, he saw in horror that he was doing 120. Still talking to himself, "there's no way in hell I was doing 120."

Playing along, "what?! You're going 120? I don't need to die tonight, Mulder."

"I didn't realize …"

"Just slow the hell down!!"

He shrank into the seat and heart pounding, he brought his speed back to 75 but when looking out the window, he would swear they were nearly crawling. She then watched him look from the speedometer to the road to the speedometer once again, then to the smile she couldn't contain, "why the hell are all the gauges in metrics now?"

Reaching over, she re-flipped the switch, turning everything back to normal, "did you really think I'd let the neutral thing go unanswered?"

Instead of being annoyed, he looked at her admirably, "nice."

&&&&&&&&&

She was sound asleep again an hour later when Mulder discovered he was contemplating how long he could shut his eyes before it got dangerous. Poking his finger into Scully's thigh, "hey, you awake?"

When she only mumbled, he knew they were both done for the night but with only an hour left to go, he debated pushing it.

Until he heard his tires running on the rumble strip.

Yeah, it was time to stop.

Especially when he saw it … a bright beacon of hope in the distance.

Wal-Mart.

24-hour, anyone can sleep in the damn parking lot, beautiful, shiny Wal-Mart.

He pulled off the exit ramp and soon, he stopped the car in the center of a vast expanse of parking lot. Cracking the windows so they wouldn’t suffocate, he put his seat back, stretched and promptly fell asleep.

A blissful sleep that lasted almost a full two hours, until, “what the hell?”

The sound of her voice jolted him upright and his hand caught the horn, beeping it obnoxiously as he blinked against the painfully bright light in his eyes, “huh?”

By now, she was rolling down the window and being the least polite he’d ever heard her, “what!?”

The flashlight lowered but all Mulder could see was the spot it had burned into his retinas. The spot spoke in a low, male voice, “evenin’ folks.”

Again, Scully rolled off with, “what!?!”

“Just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

He could feel Scully building rapidly towards some other, more improper phrases and heading her off with a hand on her arm, “we were tired and thought we’d take a nap instead of wrapping ourselves around a telephone pole.” As the spot began to fade, he could make out an older gentleman behind the lowered flashlight, “I thought people could park and sleep here for the night?”

“RVs can park but ya’ll aren’t in an RV so I thought maybe you were havin’ some trouble.”

Hearing Scully sigh resignedly through her nose, he spoke again, “no trouble, sir. Just tired.”

“Well, ya’ll be careful.”

As he turned and walked away, Mulder looked at her irate expression, “hi.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“Where?”

Unbuckling her belt, “I have to go to the bathroom and you’re coming with me.”

Opening his door, “why are you pissed at me? I didn’t scare the shit out of you with a flashlight.”

“Just come on.”

She stalked across the parking lot, Mulder trotting to catch up, then settling into an easy gait until they got to the store entrance, “are you gonna make me come in with you or do I get to wait outside the door?”

With eyes narrowed, she left him in the entryway and disappeared into the ladies room. Deciding to go himself, he still beat her back and was leaning on the wall when she came out drying her hands on her jeans. She seemed calmer and leaning next to him, “I’m hungry.”

Gesturing through the doors that led to the actual store, “I bet there’s something in there, if you’re willing to risk it.”

“Lead the way, partner.” Both were shocked by the amount of people in the store, “what time is it anyway?”

Finding her wrist with his hand, he twisted her watch around until he could read it, “um, 1:15.”

“Why are all these people here? Don’t they have homes and beds?”

“Insomniacs make the best shoppers.”

She let a small chuckle escape her nose, “just find me something to eat.”

Well, she should have known not to A) shop when she was hungry and 2) shop with Mulder. She should have also put her foot down when he suggested getting a cart.

An hour later, they were finally through the checkout.

Scully had found some sandwiches, drinks and chips for them both, then stupidly gave Mulder control of the cart. He immediately steered towards the entertainment section and was soon pawing through the $3.99 DVD bin.

That killed a half-hour right there. Damn those bins and their B-movie classics.

After he’d found several handfuls of movies, he veered through men’s clothing for socks, housewares for a new shower curtain (which Scully silently thanked God about), hardware to replace the two flashlights he’d left in their hotel rooms, back to menswear  for the underwear he’d forgot on the first trip (black boxer briefs, much to Scully’s amusement), then finally through women’s clothing, where he stopped in front of a rack of slogan t-shirts.

Standing for a moment, he studied them, then picked one up with an alien beside a spaceship who was pointing out and stating, “maybe WE don’t believe in you.” Holding it against her for a second, he tossed it in the cart and finally moved to the check-out.

She followed, dumbfounded by the last hour of her life, “Mulder … why …?”

“Shhhh, it’s too late to argue and too early to win.”

Whatever the hell that meant, she graciously allowed him to pay for their food, along with the industrial size Payday bar she tossed in at the last minute.

&&&&&&&&&&&

As they ate their makeshift dinner sitting in the car, “why did you buy me that t-shirt? Do you really think I’m gonna wear it?”

Grinning with a mouthful of half-chewed turkey, “you will. You’ll be getting dressed for something and you’ll just get the urge to put it on. So you will and you’ll realize you like it and that’ll be that.”

“Is this how you get your shopping done because I can see why your cupboards are bare.”

“Never ask about a man’s shopping habits.”

“Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“Trade you sandwiches?”

He handed the rest of his sandwich to her immediately, taking her partially eaten roast beef in its place, “no dressing?”

“Nope.”

“So much to teach you, grasshopper.”

&&&&&&&&&

“I’ll drive if you want me to.”

Scully shook her head, “naw, I’m fine.”

“Well, I’m not tired now so I’ll keep you awake.”

With a grin in his direction, “God help me.”

“God’s probably asleep Scully. All you got is me.”

“Again, God help me.”

&&&&&&&&&&

They were finally navigating Washington’s outskirts by 3:30. He watched her staring ahead and fought the demon lurking inside him.

He really shouldn’t.

He really, really shouldn’t.

It would be evil and wrong and cruel and more than likely funny as all hell … if she didn’t kill him afterwards.

 …

He’d risk it.

Waiting another minute or so, he spied a light blinking in the distance and as they approached it, he braced his feet against the floor. Once they were about 10 feet away, he yelled, gripping the dashboard and the doorframe, “blinking yellow!!!”

She locked up the brakes, as expected, and bought the car to a screeching halt. The stop flung both forward, then back against their seats, with Scully screaming in his ear, “son of a bitch … it’s yellow Mulder! I don’t have to stop for a blinking yellow!”

Looking at her with as much seriousness as he could muster, “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“Then why the hell did you yell ‘blinking yellow’ in my ear!?”

“I didn’t know if you saw it.”

He had never witnessed her nostrils flaring before and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, she looked kind of cute doing it but … “are you trying to get us killed?”

He was now smiling despite the fact she had steam shooting out her ears, “there was no one behind us. I checked.”

Another nostril flare came his way before she turned the car off, still sitting in the middle of the intersection, got out and moving to his side of the car, pulled open the door, “drive.”

Still grinning, he scrambled over the gearshift, Scully sliding smoothly into his seat, putting her head back and closing her eyes.

Silence, he had not expected. Yelling, hitting, yes but not quiet. Quiet from Scully meant planning, concocting, calculating, organizing … quiet meant bad things … quiet meant very deep piles of shit with him underneath.

“Scully …”

“Home.”

Suddenly sober, he restarted the car, “I was just playing.”

“Home,” she repeated, then, instead of returning to sleep, she dug some gum from the glove compartment and proceeded to chew a wad of it, very loudly.

Now, he could take bullets, he could take slime, he could take beratement of the highest degree and, as demonstrated, he could even take bile but he absolutely despised the cud-chewing noises she was making. He withstood it for a long as humanly possible before, “could you please get rid of that? You sound like a damn cow.”

“You want me to get rid of the gum?”

“Yes!”

“Where do you want me to put it?”

His mistake was answering too quickly, “anywhere. I don’t care. Just stop chewing it.”

“Okay then.” Undoing her seatbelt, she twisted so she faced him, and in a gracefully disgusting move, she rolled the gum in her fingers, then proceeded to push it up his nose.

He knew something was coming and completely powerless to stop it, he just sat there as a thumb-size chunk of grape Hubba-Bubba was fitted into his right nostril.

She then calmly sat back down and re-buckled herself in.

He left the gum there as he turned to her, “Scully?”

“Yes, Mulder.”

“I believe we’re even now.”

Her belly laugh echoed off the windows and he began laughing as well, slipping the gum from his nose and putting it in his mouth.

Through her laughter, she grimaced, “eww, that’s disgusting.”

“But it’s grape.”

&&&&&&&&&

They finally made it to Mulder’s apartment and since her brain had drifted completely, she didn’t really notice where they were until he stopped the car, “why are we here?”

“Literally or existentially because I don’t think I can take a metaphysical discussion at the moment?”

“Literal.”

“You drove. You drop me off then drive yourself home.”

“Where’s your car, Mulder?”

Pointing to where he always parked, he saw an empty spot, “your house.” His head dropped to the steering wheel, “damn.” Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, “I’ll take you home.”

“No. I want out of the damn car and I want to go to sleep. Right now.”

“Then grab the bags from the store … I’ll get the suitcases.” They managed to make it in his door before dropping everything simultaneously. Mulder then re-picked up her bag and set it in his bedroom, “I’ll take the couch.”

“No, I will. I shoved gum up your nose.”

“And I yelled ‘blinking yellow’.”

Contemplating for a half second, “you’re right.”

He gave her a grin, “just help me change the sheets first.” Nodding, she had the bed stripped by the time he came back with a clean set. They finished in no time and he stepped back, nodding his head, “two people make that way faster.”

“Anytime Mulder but for now, I’m using your bathroom then going to bed.”

“Aye, aye captain.”

Meeting him in the hall on the way back from the bathroom, “g’night, Mulder.”

“’Morning, Scully.”

Before going to the bedroom, she grabbed one last thing, then changed, crawled under the clean sheets and was out before her head hit the pillow.

&&&&&&&&&&

He woke up leisurely. The phone hadn’t rung, no one had knocked on his door, obnoxious garbage men hadn’t rattled the dumpsters … he had woken up because he had finally caught up on his sleep. Marveling at the idea, he stood and moved silently towards his bedroom to check to see if she was awake yet.

Finding her spread eagle on her stomach, covers twisted around her and bare leg sticking out, foot hanging off the side of the bed, he nearly laughed when he saw her wearing the neon green t-shirt he’d bought the night before.

Deciding to let her sleep, he went to the bathroom, then made himself a bowl of cereal. By the time he’d sat down with his second helping, he heard the creak of his bedroom door. Looking up, he saw her standing there, hair tousled, eyes partially open, wearing only the t-shirt, which fell to mid-thigh. Swallowing the frogs in her throat, “’morning.”

After a glance at the DVD player’s clock, “afternoon.” Without comment, she padded across the cool floor and dropped down next to him, curling her legs underneath her. Covering them with his blanket, she reached over, took the spoon and helped herself to a large spoonful of cereal. Shaking the milk off, she had it nearly to her mouth when he finally spoke, “I thought you said you’d never wear that shirt?”

As the cereal entered her mouth, her lips quivered in the slightest of smiles, “shut up, Mulder.”

[writersrealmbts]

Take This Road

Description: Part of the summer #btswritingbingo, hosted by @bangtanwritingbingo​! For road trip.  You've taken an unusual turn in your road trip, and your new passenger is the primary cause.

Warnings: casual discussions of arson and murder

Posted: 07/31/2021

Tags: Jungkook x reader, sort of mafia au? sort of gang au?, road trip au

idk what genre this is: 1,503 words

A/N: This one was really fun

Too many snacks.

You had too many snacks for one person.

So...was it fate that brought your passenger?

Or was it the fact that he shoved someone under your tires as you were driving past?

“So...remind me again where we’re going to dump this body?” You asked.

“He’s not dead.”

“Yet.”

“Yet. If he does die...well, there’s a nice floating bog not too far from where I live that could work. Or I could use him as a decoy body in a housefire.”

“Oooh, I know this one,” You chirped, turning the volume up and singing along with the radio.

Your passenger, the one that wasn’t dying, was soon singing with you.

It did strike you that maybe you shouldn’t be so casual about the fact that you were transporting a dying person with the person who had tried to kill him using your vehicle, but honestly...you kind of were guessing that the guy you ran over may or may not have been abusive and you didn’t really feel like asking.

“Such a good song,” Your passenger sighed. “Oh, I don’t think I told you, but I’m Jungkook, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Jungkook, y/n.”

“Nice to meet you. Sorry to change your plans.”

“No problem, really. I was kind of bored. If you want any snacks, feel free to grab any. Any but the chocolate covered pretzels. Those are mine and I will shove you under my tires.”

“Understood. So, should I explain why I tried to kill him?”

“I mean, if you like. Do I need to turn here?”

“No, it’ll be the next one. So, that guy is actually a loan shark. Except, when you can’t pay in cash, he takes people.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah. I was hoping he’d be helpful and tell me where he sent my friends, but...well….” He glanced back as the other man began to groan softly. “Oh. He’s waking up.”

“You tied him up, right?”

“Yeah. I owe you a roll of duct-tape and some zip-ties.”

“Don’t worry about the zip-ties. I’m not really even sure why I had them. Anyway, he took your friends?”

“Yeah. So I’ve been trying to track them down ever since. And then he told me tonight that one of them had died before he even sold them and I guess I saw red.”

“Well, I’d be concerned if you thought my car was purple or green.”

“True,” He tried a few different snacks before settling in with one. “Anyway, if he died, no big. If he lives and tells me what happened to them, awesome. I’ve got enough leads to carry on without him if I have to. What about you? You’re taking all of this surprisingly well.”

“He kind of struck me as an abusive bastard, to be honest. And that’s while looking at him half-dead on the road. But nah, I’m just sort of wandering around. I recently quit my job, and I’ve been on a road trip in the interim before my next job starts.”

“What’s your new job?”

“I’m working for Taiji International. Personal secretary to one of the higher-ups.”

“Isn’t that the one with suspected Mafia affiliations?”

“Possibly. I could probably poke around and see if they have any idea about your friends for you.”

“That’d be cool.” He sighed. “It looks like he might live.”

“Have you ever been to Keirishiro?”

“No. My parents always told me it was full of Mafias and gangs.”

“Exactly. He’s probably affiliated with some group. Which means they’re probably after you.”

“Probably….”

“So, we put him in your place and burn it down. They’ll find out it’s him, no problem, and then there’s just the question of where you went. No one would expect someone so wholly unconnected to you to be hiding you, or helping you.”

“But the fire….”

“Is the easy part. Frito’s bag near some outlet or appliance. Leaves no trace. Set these aside.” You pulled the bag up and tossed it at him.

“What about your road-trip?”

“Oh, I thought we could go to Keirishiro after burning your place down. That’s where my job is. You can stay with me. We’ll work on disguises for you, and I’ll find out if my work is associated with a Mafia or not. Then we can go from there. Hopefully they’re not associated with this piece of work.”

“You grew up in the Mafia, didn’t you?”

“Nah. I just spent way too much time working customer service.”

“Oh, I love this song,” He turned the radio up again, jamming to the song on the radio.

You thought the trip ahead of you would be quite pleasant with Jungkook for company.

“We’re going to pretend we’re dating, right?”

You hummed. “Actually, we might need to pretend we’re married. I sort of lied and said I was getting ready to be married which was why I wanted so much time before I started this job.” You rolled your eyes. “I was just going to say, ‘oh, it fell through and I was so heartbroken’ but a fake marriage would suffice.”

“Okay. Sounds good to me. With any luck, even if people know about me they may not know what I look like, so I might be able to pass as someone else. Then I’ll be sure to sell the part. And when the time comes, we split amicably.”

“Works for me. Go fifty-fifty on chores?”

“Mmmm, sixty-forty, I might not be able to swing as much for rent as you.”

“Ah. Between jobs?”

“Kind of. Something about endangering coworkers.”

“Oof. Yeah. We’ll see if we can find someone to forge an identity for you, that way you can get a job if it’s safe to show your face.”

“I might know a place. Got any CD’s?”

“CD player is broken and the last CD put in was a kids CD. Don’t touch the CD player. On the one hand, I know twenty children's songs. On the other hand, I would like to throttle whoever broke the CD player because I know twenty children’s songs.”

“Got any drinks?”

“In the cooler, behind your seat.”

“Ah!” He unbuckled and reached around, getting drinks for both of you. “I’m thinking: maybe instead of burning my place we just clean it out and dump him in the bog, whether dead or alive. That way we don’t draw unnecessary attention to me.”

“Fair. Okay. Then where am I going?”

“Stay on this road for another...five miles?”

“Map in the glove-box.”

He pulled it out, unfolding it and taking a few moments to gather his bearings. “Yeah, about five miles, I think. It’ll be the third road on the left.”

“Okay. Feel free to mess with the temp controls, I tend to keep things cooler than they need to be.”

“I’m good. Might channel surf, though,” He said, waiting until you had nodded to start trying other stations on the radio.

“You have a license?”

“Definitely.”

“Great. We can take turns driving, then.”

“Works for me.”

“Uuaaaghhhh...wh--what?”

You glanced in the rear-view mirror. “Oh dear.”

Jungkook quickly got up to deal with the passenger. “Didn’t expect him to wake up.”

You sighed. “Poor soul, he just didn’t know what hit him.”

“Better than he deserves,” Jungkook muttered, holding up a notebook. “I forgot to mention, I got his ledger from him. There are lots of names in here.”

“Ugh. A bog is almost too good for him.”

“Almost,” Jungkook agreed, sliding back into his seat. “You understand the danger we’re getting into, right?”

“Yeah. I do.” You gestured to your backpack. “Front pocket, there’s a bag with some jewelry in it. There should be two rings. They were my parents. But they’ll do.”

He followed your instructions, pulling them out. He slipped your father’s onto his ring finger. “Fits well. Here you are, my wife.”

“Why, thank you, husband,” You said, taking your mother’s ring and slipping it onto your ring finger.

“So...what happened to them?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, they’re fine, but my father can’t wear rings because they make his fingers swell and my mom broke her ring finger so her ring didn’t fit anymore. They tattooed rings on their fingers instead.”

“Ah. So...your family is alive...and you’re still okay with this?”

You considered what to tell him. “My parents are private investigators.”

“So, this is….”

“Definitely not something they would want me doing. They’ve never been a fan of me sticking my nose into dangerous situations. But...you know. When both of your parents are private investigators….”

“It’s in your blood. Cool. I’ll follow your lead then.” He smiled, kind of peeking down at the ring. “I’ll be a supportive husband.”

“And I will be a loving wife,” You answered, sharing a smile with him. “This could be a lot of fun.”

“It really could.” Jungkook grinned and leaned back in his seat, staring at the road ahead. “Next road.”

“Right.”

You looked forward to where this journey led you.

[seven-oomen]

Every road leads to you chapter 1 | Sambucky a/b/o mpreg

Note: obvious tags for this are a/b/o and eventual mpreg. Alpha Sam, Omega Bucky, Bucky deal with CPTSD, missing scenes, canon compliant, canon continuation, frenemies to friends to lovers, roommates, only one bed. Probably a few more tropes. tbh I wrote this chapter in like a day, posting it here first because I wanna finish the whole fic before posting it to Ao3 but hoping to get some feedback for it here. So I hope you like it. Let me know if you do.

-

“Stop the car!”

Goddamn Walker and his goddamn fucking mouth. He couldn’t believe this shit. Battlestar. More like throwing away everything Steve had ever stood for. These two, Walker and Hoskins, they weren’t fit to defend the mantle of Captain America. They were soldiers, not good men. He hated their freaking guts for that.

Sam should have never given up that shield.

He stalked further down the road, past the bus stop and onto a smaller road that wound back to town without looking back.

“It’s always that last line.” Sam said after a short back and forth with Walker and not long after Sam’s footsteps trailed after him.

“Buck, wait up!”

He kept walking, trying to contain the anger boiling under his skin. Pulsing and creeping up, threatening to overload his nervous system at the slightest touch. He took a deep breath instead and released it slowly. Trying to calm the waving energy inside of him.

Just keep breathing. Everything is going to be okay.

Sam fell into step beside him, his eyes practically burning holes into the side of his face. Though he paid it no mind.

“You’re not going to talk to me, are you?”

He glared at Sam but slowed down his pace just a little to allow the Alpha to keep up with him. As much as he usually enjoyed bantering with the other man, right now everything was just too much. And even Sam’s words echoed in his head and threatened to overload his entire system.

Sam, thankfully, understood.

“Alright. Let’s find a phone. Call Torres.”

He looked at Sam for a moment. The Alpha didn’t judge him for his mood, simply understood what he needed and left it at that. Honestly, it was nice for a change. He sighed, fishing his still working cellphone out of his pocket and handed it to Sam.

“Here.”

Clearly, Sam hadn’t expected that. But the smile Sam gave him created a pleasant warm feeling in the pit of his stomach and eased the pulsing energy through his body just a little. In a way, it was soothing to see him smile.

“Thanks Buck.”

“You’re welcome.”

Two short phone calls later they were on their way to the airport in a cab, their knees touching and only the sound of Taylor Swift singing over the radio surrounding them. Even the driver was quiet.

He still noted the driver’s glances between the two of them but didn’t comment on it since the chubby man didn’t either. He figured the man had bigger problems in his life than having an unmated Alpha and Omega sitting in the back of his cab. Having the kind of walrus mustache the man sported, had to be one of them.

Sam kept sneaking glances between him and the driver, his lips curled up in an amused smile. Almost as if he knew the kind of things he was thinking. It was a little weird, a little endearing, mostly just annoying. He raised an eyebrow at the behavior and leaned back with a smirk when Sam just glared at him and crossed his arms.

Damn right.

Though a small part of him winced at the way his gut twisted at Sam’s reaction. When was the last time he’d taken his suppressants? A quick silent count said he’d taken all of them. So that couldn’t be why he was having a reaction. What else could it be though?

Torres welcomed them at the airport, thankfully Walker or Hoskins were nowhere to be seen. A small miracle all things considered, but a very welcome one.

“Plane’s fueled and ready to go when you are.”

“Then let’s take off, I’ve had enough of Germany for now.” Sam said.

He followed, trailing after Sam into the cargo hold of the plane where they would undoubtedly spend the next few hours just staring ahead. And maybe even getting some sleep if they were lucky enough.

It took a few hours for them to get bored enough. He certainly didn’t know what to do with himself and Sam was on the verge of a mental breakdown judging the by the way he was glaring at him. Then again, if Sam had been mindlessly pacing up and down the cargo hold he’d probably be in the same state.

“Would you please just sit down?”

His fingers twitched at those words yet he did stop. Hands clenching and unclenching in an effort to get rid of some of his excess energy.

“I can’t. I’m restless.” He was. It felt like a dozen fire ants were crawling up and down his spine and the only way to alleviate that feeling was by pacing around the plane.

“I can see that, but you’re making me restless. Come on.” Sam beckoned him closer.

It was… tempting to sit down beside him and allow Sam to calm him. He couldn’t do that though. Couldn’t let anyone get that close. He didn’t know if Sam knew what he was, they didn’t talk much about that stuff. And a part of him never wanted Sam to find out either. He didn’t want to lose this edge of whatever it was that was between them. In a way it was comforting to know that someone didn’t take his bullshit, that someone still called him out on his stupid ideas.

He sat down on the floor opposite Sam, his back propped up against some crates and the tips of his toes not quite touching Sam’s.

Sam merely stared at him for a moment, then leaned forward and offered him his hands. “Gimme your hands.”

“No.” His first reaction was to lean back further and glare. Sneering at the hands he was offered.

Though Sam didn’t budge or get angry at his behavior and stayed calm. Within minutes his shoulders relaxed just a little and he laid his hands in Sam’s with a soft grumble.

“Fine.”

“Good, now breathe.” Sam said, taking a deep breath in. “In, hold it-” He paused for a few seconds, then released his breath “-and out slowly. Repeat.”

“You’re playing therapist now are you?” He appreciated Sam’s help, truly, he did. But there was always a part of him that just wanted to rile Sam up. Just to see if he could.

“No, I just want some goddamn peace and quiet without you pacing a hole through the floor and this is probably the best way to get that.” Sam bit back, the corners of his lips curling up.

It did something to him. A warmth that pooled in his stomach and slowly traveled to his heart and eased the little aches, pains, and pulses of his body. God he could drown in those dark eyes all night.

He blinked rapidly at that thought, only then realizing that his breathing had synched up with Sam’s and they were calmly breathing in and out together. How had that happened? Even his own therapist hadn’t been that effective in getting him to calm down.

He hadn’t even noticed he had exposed the dog tags around his neck for Sam to see. His full name and designation clearly stamped and visible.

James B. Barnes O

32557038 T41 42 O

R.Barnes

3092 Stoorton RD

Shelbyville IN P

Sam didn’t seem to care either way. “Better?”

He nodded, quickly pulling his hands away from Sam’s when Sam’s thumb brushed over the back of his hand. “Yeah…”

“Good. Let me know if you feel restless, we’ll do it again.” Sam leaned back and closed his eyes, his breathing slowly evening out.

He honestly didn’t understand it. Sam had had every opportunity to absolutely obliterate him and yet he hadn’t. Anything vulnerable he showed him, any kind of weakness he had, for once it wasn’t used against him. Sam treated him like a person. He never really noticed that before, or it hadn’t registered this clearly. It was too easy to forget when he was around Sam, too easy to just fall in beside him and joke and snap along. It scared him just a little.

It also gave him hope.

Maybe that’s why he brought Sam to Baltimore.

He should have known things would go south real quickly.

“How come nobody ever told me about him?” Sam’s voice was full of fire and emotion and yet it cut him cold across the chest. He wasn’t sure if he deserved that reaction, but he understood it in a way.

“Steve didn’t know and I didn’t-” He ran a hand through his hair, sighing “-I didn’t tell anybody because he’d already been through enough.”

The sharp sound of sirens pulled him out of his thoughts and brought an entirely new problem with it. Before he knew it, he was the one escorted into a police car with his hands cuffed. He missed his court mandated therapy. Wasn’t that a fucking joke?

He spared one glance at Sam just as the car pulled away from the scene and immediately wished he hadn’t. The look Sam gave him hurt more than any punch ever had and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. He didn’t owe Sam anything. And yet it felt like he just lost his entire world.

“I’m sure everything will be sorted quickly, Mr. Barnes.” One of the cops, the shorter one, said. He was quite a bit more nervous now than he had been when he thought Sam had been an aggressor, possibly because he feared repercussions from profiling an Avenger. Good. Maybe it would make him think twice about pulling shit like that, though a part of him very much doubted it.

He simply glanced at them in the rear view mirror, feeling an almost sick sense of satisfaction as that unnerved both of the cops further. He didn’t say anything to them despite their attempts at making small talk with him.

What was the fucking point anyway?

He didn’t expect Sam to come get him at the station. Seeing him there felt like a slap to the face. Not because Sam had done anything wrong, no he’d done everything right. And that’s exactly what hurt so much.

The doc seemed hell bent on getting him to open up about his problems. And as much as he didn’t really want to he found himself opening up anyway.

“Well in my miracle, he would talk less.” He said, glaring at Sam as he said it. And maybe that was a bit harsh, but Sam took it like a champ and threw it right back at him. God how he wanted to shut him up in that moment. Though in what way he wasn’t quite sure. In the last day his emotions had been all over the place.

He wanted to hate Sam, but he couldn’t. Something deep inside him just couldn’t hate him for any of this. Not when he himself had done so much worse.

The doc didn’t seem that pleased with them. Honestly, she should have known better. “You guys are leaving me with no choice. It’s time for the soul gazing exercise.”

Now that, he actually liked. “I like this one a lot better.”

“Oh god he’s gonna love this.” Sam said.

“Oh yeah, I’m ready.”

They scooted close, legs intertwining as they sat opposite one another. Once again he was staring into deep brown eyes except this time Sam’s warmth also seeped into him. In a way it was like touching spring for the first time since a cold winter. Warm and pleasant with just enough breeze to keep you alert and in the moment. It was both heaven and earth on hell and he wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face. He didn’t. He couldn’t.

Because punching Sam wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t give him closure. It wouldn’t bring Steve back. Steve, who had walked out on him and left him in a time he barely knew just to get his own happy ending. Yeah maybe that had left him a little bitter and a little broken.

“Why’d you give up the shield?”

He poured his heart into his words and bared his soul wide open and it didn’t seem to matter to Sam. So maybe Steve had been wrong about him. About both of them. Maybe he didn’t deserve redemption or compassion. Maybe he didn’t deserve a second chance. And maybe he didn’t deserve Sam’s kindness or compassion either. Maybe he was just broken.

“See you outside, Buck.”

Maybe he was just too broken to function after all.

“Thanks doc.” He followed after Sam, quiet and brooding on the outside but his mind was screaming and crying in agony.

Worthless. He was just so fucking worthless.

He shouldn’t care this much.

He didn’t deserve to care this much.

Maybe that’s why he suggested to go the HYDRA route and find Zemo, or maybe it was a form of self sabotage. Who knew? All he knew, was that this was his last chance to do something right for this world. No matter what it would cost him.

[jimlingss]

Until Yesterday

➜ Words: 10.4k

➜ Genres: 75% Fluff, 22% Angst, 3% Smut

➜ Summary: You and Taehyung are hopeless as you are hopeless romantics. But five months after tying the knot and saying "I do", you're hospitalized after a car accident with him. But upon waking up, the doctors tell you that you don't have a husband.

➜ Notes: Inspired by the movie The Vow (2012) and a bit of The Notebook (2004). This is purely an indulgent fic for all my hopeless romantics out there, so it’s a bit different from my usual!

cr.

Marriage was nothing like they told you.   It’s true that not much has changed from when you were dating or engaged, that merely the title of your relationship has slightly altered, but you have no regrets doing it at all. They always told you to wait until the honeymoon phase was over — that you'll find yourself tired and driven crazy by him. They told you to wait a few years down the line when you’re not having sex anymore and you’ll be so sick of each other, it’ll be like living with an awful roommate-child than being a couple in love. You’ll be bored when something becomes a normal routine, they said.   But it isn’t like that at all.   If anything, you’re more in love with Taehyung than ever.    “We should put the couch right here.”   “Well, we need to buy a couch first, Tae.”   “Didn’t you like the leather one we saw today?”   “I mean...I didn’t love it and it’s a bit pricey, don’t you think?”   “It’s fine. Leave it to me and the bank account!” The blonde grins and pats his own chest and it only garners your scoff. “I’ll take care of you. It’s the least I can do.”   “I make the same as you, idiot.”   It took years of hard work and dedication for the two of you to get to where you are, to have landed your dream jobs and built your dream house together. But of all the sweat and tears, you wouldn’t trade the outcome for anything else.    The house was newly built in a developing neighbourhood, the scent of cut wood and paint still lingering in each room. The white picket fence surrounds the seashell home with the dark brown roof, glass windows large and bringing light into the open concept structure along with the skylights. It has the cherry wood door reminiscent to that of your old dollhouse and a swing out back tied to the tree that Taehyung wanted. It was all the two of you could’ve ever dreamed of and you’re eager to move in, to bring in your furniture and allow this home to grow with you.   “Why is the master bedroom larger than I remembered?”   Taehyung’s laugh echoes down the hall and you hear footsteps becoming louder against the wooden floorboards. “Maybe the construction team came in during the middle of the night and expanded the room for us for free.”   “Yeah maybe,” you playfully quip back at him. “Maybe they’ll consider expanding our backyard too, so we can put that marble fountain in. It might cost more than this house, but you said I could trust in you and the bank account, right?”   Taehyung peels you off of him when you glue yourself to his side and giggle. Batting your lashes at him has little effect. “Fountain is still a no-go, sweetheart.”   You grin at him and waltz to the adjacent room, peeking your head into the modest space. “We still need to decide what to do with this spare room, Taehyung. If we want to turn it into another bedroom for when your mom visits or maybe an office.”   Suddenly, arms wrap around your waist and you ease as your husband props his chin on your shoulder. It’s one of his many habits of his that you love. “How about we save it for a nursery?”   The corner of your mouth quirks and you turn your head. “Are you sure?”   “As sure if you are.”    You spin around in his arms to plant a kiss against his mouth — one where Taehyung steals the opportunity and deepens it, catching you off guard. He pulls you in by your waist when you threaten to pull apart and he smiles at the whimper that comes out of you.   When the pair of you finally part, you’re unable to resist the smile that spreads into your cheeks and your arms loop around his neck. “Kim Taehyung, aren’t you blessed? There’s no one I’d rather have a baby with than you.”   His mouth forms into a rectangular grin. “You shouldn’t tempt me when we’re going to be late for our reservations already.”   “Late?” Your lips fall and you check your watch before your eyes grow wide.    Taehyung laughs and strolls behind you as you rush out, grabbing your coat and screaming at him to get the car started.   It’s another one of those date nights. One where intimate conversations are shared over a candlelight dinner. Until Taehyung accidentally catches the tablecloth on fire and the candlelight is removed by an exasperated waiter and the intimacy in your discussion ends up with him doing something dumb and water nearly spewing out of your nose from laughing, and the other patrons are glaring at the ruined atmosphere.   Still, with a generous tip paid, you leave full and happy.   “Anything you want to watch tonight?” you ask as he’s driving. It’s peaceful with the roads emptier at this time of night and the radio playing some generic pop song in the back. You count the lamp posts that pass by.   “Hmm...how about we do something else tonight.”   Your head turns. “Like what?”   Taehyung steals a glance at you and smirks. “I was thinking that we would drive back to the new house and break in that mattress we just got. Maybe get that kid you were talking about.”   You scoff, looking straight out the windshield as you feel your face heat. Even after so many years with him, he still knew what to say to affect you. “It’s not that easy, you know, and that mattress is still wrapped in the living room.”   “It’s fine. Better start now than later. And it’s our house, we can taint it however we want to.”   It doesn’t take much for you to agree — and you do so in the midst of laughter.   You shamelessly stare at Taehyung’s profile, the strands of his blonde hair that desperately needs a trim, his long lashes that you’ve always been envious of, the slope of his nose and his thin lips that always knows how to kiss you right. Taehyung’s thick brow cocks when he notices your blatant staring, but you don’t care. You’re just filled with joy and at a loss for words at how he’s with you.   He’s yours.   The two of you are too wrapped up in one another to pay mind to the car behind you. To the piercing beam lights. The wheels that screech against the asphalt. The sheer speed of the vehicle and recklessness of the intoxicated driver.   So when the rear of the car is slammed into and you both lurch forward into the intersection of the road, it’s a shock.    //   The white fluorescent burns your eyes.    It’s hard to see and you can’t feel your body. Not even your fingers that begin to twitch. You’re disoriented and delirious, not sure what day it is, how long you’ve been out, where exactly you are. It’s all muddled in your mind. All you can discern is a constant rhythm of beeping beside you and the odour of disinfect filling your senses. You’re scared — but you’re overwhelmed with the thought of Taehyung.    Taehyung.   You jolt in your spot and the rhythm of the machine quickens until it’s like an alarm, sounding aloud and making you panic even more. But then there’s a rush of people entering the room, white coats and scrubs checking the machines and lines hooked up from you.   “Ms. Y/N, I am doctor Jeon.” There’s a man looking down at you and you blink blearily at him. “You’ve been in a coma for three days now. Is there anyone we can call for you?”   “M-My husband,” you cry out with a parched throat.   The doctor looks to the nurse but she frowns and shakes her head. “The patient doesn’t have a husband.”   You don’t have a husband?   At once, sobs wrack through your entire body and you thrash despite the aches in your bones and your ankle wrapped in bandages. The doctor and nurse are alarmed and you choke out the words— “I-Is he okay? Is he dead?”   “Ma’am,” the doctor calmly says, “you were the only one injured on the scene.”   Before you can utter a word, a man comes from the doorway. His hair is dark, matching the hue lined underneath his exhausted eyes. His features are soft and evidently tired like he hasn’t slept in the past few days. You don’t know who he is but he stares right at you — and then a relieved smile draws upon his features, one that is too comfortable and familiar.   “Y/N?” His voice is deeper than expected and he closes the distance. The nurse is visibly confused, but he quickly introduces, “I’m her partner, Min Yoongi.”   You recoil back before he can touch you, even when the hurt comes across his expression.    “I-I’m sorry.” You don’t know who he is. “I think you have the wrong person.”

It’s hard to cope — your entire universe has been flipped upside down and you don’t know what to think. Suddenly by opening your eyes, your entire life has been swept from underneath your feet. Everything that you loved and cared about is gone. And you’re left alone to deal with it.   “I-I remember being with my husband. We were driving back from dinner and planning to take a detour to the new house, but then a car rear-ended us and we were brought out into the intersection,” you recall.   But the doctor’s brows furrow. “I see. Well, I can tell you that you weren’t in a car accident, Ms. Y/N. You were injured after falling down the flight of stairs at the subway station. You’ve been in a coma for three days.”   It doesn’t make any sense and you squeeze your temples. But it hurts. Everything feels like a dream, like you’re floating and not truly grounded in reality. Your surroundings are hazy and you wonder if this is just a hallucination — a very frightening one, a world where Taehyung doesn’t exist.   “What year was the car accident?” the doctor asks suddenly and you exhale, trying to remember the date.    “It was late January of 2016.”   “Ms. Y/N, it’s 2020 right now.”   It’s a shock through your system. At first, you sputter, choking on your own spit. The doctor is kind enough to give you a moment but when you press your hand to your chest, you wince at the bruises around your wrist. Then you open your mouth and close it, finding yourself rendered absolutely speechless. Your brain is melting into itself and you have an urge to get up and scream.   “What?”   “It looks like you have a four year memory gap,” Doctor Jeon says as if he’s prescribing you with cold medication and if you weren’t bedridden, you might just throttle him to the floor. “It’s okay, these things happen with your sort of injury. It should be fine and only temporary. You can get your memory jogging again after looking at mementos, pictures, or talking to the right people.”   “Anyways, we’ll keep you here for a few more days just to monitor that head injury, but it looks like your ankle is healing nicely. There’s no cause for concern, really.”   The doctor ends up leaving and you repress the urge to cry again.   You don’t know where Taehyung is and you miss him.   //   Your so-called partner appears days later to help with your hospital discharge and pack up your belongings. You learn his name is Min Yoongi and that he’s two years older than you are. He works as a car mechanic in a shop and you’ve apparently been with him for a whole year.    Yet, you can’t help but stay guarded, watching him from the corner with your arms crossed while you try to decipher his impassive expression. The man is quiet, but not in an angry or frightening way. He never asks you questions, makes demands out of you or once appears exasperated with your distant behaviour. He seems gentle somehow.    You wonder what your relationship with him was like.   “T-Thank you,” you murmur as he packs the slippers he had brought for you into the duffle bag.   Min Yoongi turns his head and the corner of his mouth pulls into an oddly warm smile. His voice is husky when he says, “You don’t need to thank me. I’m just happy to see you walking around again.”   You’re taken aback.   You aren’t used to receiving this kind of love and affection from someone other than Taehyung and from a stranger no less. It makes you unsettled. Conflicted.   The car ride is smooth. Yoongi helps you into your seat and buckles you in without making you speak much of a word. You’re not sure where you’re going, but you spend your time looking out at the window and taking in what you’ve missed for four years, or rather what your mind no longer recalls.    Luckily, it seems like the world hasn’t changed too much.   The streets are familiar, lined with lamp posts and bike racks. There are different billboards and some buildings you don’t recognize, but it looks like many things have stayed the same. The street names, avenues and boulevards, the people jogging and walking their dogs — it hasn’t changed.   “Hey, Tae—”    Except for the person driving beside you.    You turn your head and blood drained from your face, realizing that it’s not your husband you’re sitting beside. “N-Never mind.”   There’s a moment of quiet.   Then Yoongi’s lips part. “It’s okay.” He glances at you and your eyes meet. “It’s okay,” he repeats with a small smile that makes you even more burdened.   The apartment is modest yet cozy. A living room with cushions out of place and souvenirs on the shelves next to the television. The kitchen is to the left, cups in the sink and refrigerator haphazardly filled with take out boxes. It’s lived in, full of memories that you don’t have. But above all, you notice there’s only one bedroom and there are male belongings assorted with yours.    Shaving cream. Gel. Cologne.    “You live here?” you ask Yoongi, coming to the living room where he was giving you a chance to look around for yourself, perhaps hoping that you would remember something.   “We live together,” he corrects with a tiny smile. “But it’s okay. I’m planning on staying at a friend’s place, so you don’t have to worry about me being here if that makes you uncomfortable.”   “You…” Your mouth opens before closing, startled at how considerate he is. “You don’t have to. I mean, this place is yours too. It seems unfair if I kick you out. You should...stay.” Yoongi smiles and you shy away from his attention. “I...might not be comfortable sharing a bed with you though…”   “Okay.” He nods. “I can take the couch.”   That night, you lay awake in the foreign bed, unable to sleep and staring at the ceiling. It feels like you’ve been asleep for four years anyways, although it’s technically only been three days.    Your brain is swimming in confusion. You’re not sure what to think. One moment you were with Taehyung and the next, you don’t have him beside you anymore and you’re with someone else.   Taehyung….   You reach over to the nightstand and switch on the lamp. A dim yellow light softly fills the room and you begin to truly investigate your surroundings. On a pinboard near the door are pictures of you and Yoongi, selfies taken where you’re both smiling with one another, one of you at a carnival and another at an aquarium. The vanity drawer holds jewelry that you don’t recognize, perhaps ones that Yoongi had bought for you. Your phone contains grocery lists and miscellaneous notes that make no sense. There’s nothing on your social media, no connection, nothing once you search his name up. All you discover is work-related things in your calendar, more pictures of you and Yoongi and affectionate texts between the two of you.    There’s no trace of Taehyung whatsoever.   But when you dig into the closet and find a box at the top shelf hidden away, your answer is found. It’s inside a box of paperwork — school awards, certificates of achievements, evidence of your first paycheck, your birth certificate, social security papers, and divorce papers.   You and Taehyung got divorced in April 2018.    Two years and eight months after getting married. And it’s been a year and ten months since.   The paper crumples underneath your hands and you gather your knees together on the floor as quiet sobs break through you once again. You don’t know what happened. Where it all went wrong.   //   When morning comes, you hope the swelling and redness of your eyes from crying so much isn’t noticeable. If it is, Yoongi doesn’t say anything and only regards you with a gentle smile.    “I was going to stay home today, but I thought it might be overwhelming for you,” he says before you can protest otherwise, “so I’ll be at work. Take it easy, okay? You can call me anytime you want for anything. My number is in your phone.”   You nod. “Thank you, Yoongi.”   His smile is sweet. “I already told you, it’s not a problem.”   But half an hour after Yoongi leaves, you prepare for your own departure. Hobbling with your weight on one foot and off the one with your injured ankle, you grab a coat and the car keys laying on the counter. It takes a moment to figure out which one is your vehicle in the lot but you find it after pressing the panic button. It looks brand new — apparently recently repaired and the reason why you had to take the subway and how you got your head injury in the first place.   It might be wrong to leave without giving a warning to Yoongi, especially when he’s so worried about you, but you can’t stay idle at the apartment. You can’t sit still. You need answers.   You drive to the house — turning down the familiar streets and roads before coming into the neighbourhood that feels like you had been in just a week ago when it’s probably been years.   But you don’t recognize it anymore. It's more developed than you last remembered. What once were empty lots have other homes built. All the sidewalks are paved, there’s an elementary school down the avenue, a new playground that shines, neighbours that have moved in.   What hasn’t changed is the house itself.    There’s still the white picket fence that surrounds the seashell white home, a shade you had personally picked yourself when building it. The roof is a dark brown and the front door cherry wood. The glass windows are large with baby blue curtains and you wonder if there’s still the swing in the backyard….   You get out of the car, feeling your emotions swell up to your throat and your eyes becoming watery as you gave upon the house. This was the place you had built with Taehyung. The place you both had planned to live in for years. The place you wanted to raise your kids, grow old and retire in.    It was perfect. The combination of your dreams.   Where did it all go wrong?   You close the distance, limping up the path to the door and knocking on it. After a moment, you ring the doorbell properly. But even then, there are no answers and you notice that the Kim nameplate under the mailbox is gone.   Of course. It’s been over four years after all.   You cross the street back to your car again, but not before catching sight of a woman bringing groceries up her driveway and towards her own house.    “Um, excuse me.”   She turns at your voice, brows lifted.   “Do you happen to know who lives there?” You point to what was once your home.   But unfortunately, she shakes her head. “Sorry, I don’t. I know that house has been sold a few times and the owners have recently changed again.”   “Oh. Thank you.”   It’s hard to leave the house behind you, but you keep your foot on the gas pedal and drive, never glancing out the rear-view mirror in fear of bursting into tears again.   You still have more questions than answers, so your next destination becomes downtown where Taehyung’s engineering firm is. The two of you had met in school, back when you were awkward and chasing after your ambitions of being a chemical engineer like your aunt while for him, he wanted to take his childhood lego dreams to the max and become a civil engineer.   Your neck hurts to look at the top of the skyscraper, the many windows reflecting the bright sunlight into your eyes and blinding your vision. If there was any place where you could find Taehyung, it would be here.    It’s his dream job. What he had wanted for so long and legitimately cried when he found out he got a position at. You remember that day, how proud you felt of him for achieving such a goal.   But when you approach the receptionist at the lobby’s desk, her response only fires the confusion further.   “Sorry. We don’t have a Kim Taehyung working here. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”   You miss him. And you wonder at what point, he wasn’t a part of your life anymore.   //   In an attempt to find Taehyung, you contact your friends and work your way down your list of contacts on your phone. They’re happy to hear from you, some even knowing about your accident and asking if you’re alright.    But when you ask about Taehyung, they tell you that they haven’t spoken to him since the divorce. That they’ve lost contact. That the months leading up to it, the two of you were distant from them and they’re unsure of the reasons for what had happened. It was frankly unexpected.   “You always told me it wasn’t any of my business, dear,” your mother says over the phone. “You actually got quite upset when I asked, so after a while I didn’t anymore. Do you want to talk to your dad? He’s watching the news right now.”   “No.” You press your temples, holding in your sigh. “It’s fine.”   Frustration overwhelms you.    No matter where you turn, you can’t seem to get the reasons for yourself.   You can’t find him.   “Is the take out okay?”   At once, you’re snapped out of your thoughts and you lift your head to meet kind, cat-like eyes staring at you.    “It’s good,” you try to smile and nod.   He seems to sense how disconnected you are. “I’ll learn how to cook. I know you like carbonara, so maybe I can find a recipe this weekend and try to make it, so we don’t have to eat out all the time.”   You stare at the man across from you.   How tired he seems, his dark hair shagging in front of his forehead, his downcast head facing his food as his fork scrapes against the bottom container, never quite taking a full bite. Yet whenever your eyes meet, his plump lips always tugs into a small smile and his eyes crinkle.   “I’m sorry.”   Yoongi’s brows lift at the sudden apology. “What for?”   “For not remembering you.” Even if Min Yoongi is a stranger, you can feel how intimate the pair of you used to be by the photographs you’ve seen, by the way he still regards you. You feel guilty for not being able to return his affections.   “It’s fine. It’ll come back with time, right? Don’t stress out about it too much. It won’t do you any good.”   “Yoongi.” You have his attention by the way you say his name like he hasn’t heard it uttered from your lips in quite a while. “I went searching for my...ex-husband today.”   It’s foreign to call Taehyung that. It’s unsettling and makes you uncomfortable.   But your eyes never divert from Yoongi’s. “I need answers.”   “I know,” he murmurs in a low voice, still playing with his food. As intimidating as he might appear on the surface, you’re quickly learning how considerate and soft-spoken he really is. “And I want you too. I don’t want you to have any regrets. I want you to know you’ve made the right choice by being with me.”   Your heart squeezes at his thoughtful nature and you sigh lightly before stuffing your mouth with some of the noodles, trying to alleviate the tension. “You’re a good man, Yoongi.”   He chuckles, gummy smile emerging for the first time that you can recall. “Maybe that’s why you chose me in the first place.”   //   The avenue is nostalgic, a street that you and Taehyung spent many dates at with its cheap street food and cute stores. And when you were both working, it was the halfway point between your workplaces and where you’d meet to have lunch on those special occasions. A few things have altered from when you remembered them, the stationery shop closed and that ice-cream parlor changed into a pancake café instead. But for the most part, it remains the same.   You aren’t sure what you’re doing here.    Of all your ways and methods in searching for Taehyung, even you know that it’s unlikely you’ll find him on a Tuesday morning at such an obscure location. But it’s where you’re drawn too, where your body told you to go and your mind followed.   Otherwise, you’re not sure what to do anymore or how you should contact him. You wonder if it’s too drastic to drive hours away to visit his mom on the off chance that she’s still living in the same place after four years. If she moved, the journey would be for nothing. But even then, if you somehow found him and reached out, would he even be willing to talk to you?   A sigh escapes your parted lips. You tilt your head up to the sky, wondering where on earth he is. And in your reverie, you fail to notice the strapping brunette humming to the music he’s listening to. Not until your shoulder collides with his as he’s walking the opposite way.    But instead of an apology spilling from your mouth, you’re interrupted by a call of your name—   “Y/N?”   It's shock that has taken hold of his expression. His hand rips out his earphones and the loud music becomes silenced from his world. With the way he looks at you, it would be like he’s seen a ghost. A stranger from his past.    In your mind, it’s only been a week since you’ve seen him. And you’ve been missing him so much.   On sheer instinct, you wrap your hand around his wrist, afraid to let go. “Taehyung.”   //   It’s awkward, the stiff air almost suffocating your lungs. You’re sure that the first date wasn’t even as bad as this. But you don’t mind whatsoever, even if he’s shifting uncomfortably at the intent way you stare and how it makes him break out into a sweat. Even if Taehyung hates you now, as long as you can see him like this, it’s enough to bear.   Taehyung clears his throat, diverting his vision elsewhere. “So….you look like you’ve been well.”   “Not really,” you murmur.   Taehyung is still a man of intense habit. His drink order hasn’t changed, a cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings. At the same exact coffee shop since you were dating. And he’s taken the same table in the corner of the shop too, the spot of your many study dates.    It’s these habits that have led you back to him.   “I heard you weren’t working at the engineering firm anymore,” you say after another tense pause.   Taehyung’s brows curiously raise. “I haven’t been working there in years. You knew about it.”   “Did I?”   He’s wary that you can’t recall. “Yeah….”   “What are you doing now?”   “I’m in animation.”   Your eyes widen, surprised. “I never knew you could animate— well, I knew you could draw, but you never even watched much animation.”   Taehyung shrugs. “It’s a good fit. I didn’t know I’d like it either until I tried.”   Your expression softens, a tender smile pulling into your cheeks. Taehyung’s gotten older but in a refined way. His hair is back to its natural colour, a few wrinkles set into his skin but his features are sharper and less rounded and boyish. He seems less mischievous and irresponsible too, a little more mature and quiet. Or maybe he’s reserved because you’re his ex-wife.    The thought makes you nauseous.   He sips his drink. “So...what have you been doing?”    “Not great. I recently got into an accident, Taehyung.” That seems to grab his attention and his eyes become rounded while you brace yourself. “Apparently I fell down a flight of stairs at the subway station and I was in a coma for three days.”   “Oh shit. That...must’ve sucked. I...I’m sorry to hear that.”    “I’m fine now.” You pause, clear your throat. “But the last thing I remember is us, Taehyung. We were planning to spend the night at the new house and we got hit by that car…”   “I remember.” He nods slowly and murmurs, “But the accident wasn’t that bad, Y/N. We were only bumped.”   “I don’t remember that,” you tell, earnest eyes connected with his that makes him believe you. Even after all this time apart, Taehyung can still tell when you’re lying and telling the truth.    Your voice raises in pitch, in frustration and exasperation. “And...and I’m trying to understand how this happened. I’m trying to understand how we…..how we ended up divorced.”   Taehyung’s brows furrow and he fiddles with the paper cup. “What’s there to tell? We fell out of love.”   “That doesn’t make any sense!” Your shrill voice garners the attention of other patrons, but you don’t pay mind to them. “We got married and were planning to have kids and we just built a house in a new neighbourhood—”   “We lost that house.”   Taehyung doesn’t look at you. His downcast head allows his eyes to stay on the floor. He looks small — shoulders slugging and frame slumped.   “I lost my job and then we lost the house. It went downhill from there and one day, you couldn’t do it anymore and packed your bags. You were the one who divorced me, Y/N.”   You’re stunned, unable to get a single word out at the revelation he’s given you. An answer to your questions that you had never expected. That you didn’t want to hear.   Taehyung’s eyes are saddened and he never once meets your gaze. “You’ll remember sooner or later. I’m sorry this happened to you, Y/N. I really am. But it was still nice to see you.”   He gets up before you can protest, leaving as fast as he came into your life again.   //   Yoongi arrives home visibly tired, his hair in a disarray and his navy workwear stained with oil and grease. Still, he greets you with a warm, sleepy smile that you still aren’t used to.   “I saw my ex today,” you tell him during dinner, breaking the silence by deciding to be open and honest. It at least alleviates some of the guilt weighing on your chest. “I found him coincidentally.”   Yoongi’s eyes flicker up, peeking at you. “How did it go?”   “It didn’t help. I’m still confused.” You can’t understand why you would ever leave him, even if you lost the house and he lost his job. It didn’t make any sense. “Do you know anything about the divorce, Yoongi? Did I….ever tell you anything?”   “You told me that he was pathetic,” he informs but without any malice like he’s simply stating facts. “He was unemployed for two years and didn’t get off his ass to find a job. Hey, your words, not mine.”   The corner of your mouth curls even when you’re still stupefied.   “Are you alright, Y/N?”   An exhale leaves your lips. “I’m not sure.”   That night, you find another box in the closet while alone in the bedroom. There are pictures of you and Taehyung from when you were younger and just friends, small mementos like movie tickets and keychains won at arcades while you were dating, and photographs of the wedding day, the two of you with enormous smiles and swollen cheeks.   But they’re buried underneath your belongings with Yoongi.   //   His expression is one of repulsion, like he bit into a lemon or something bitter. But you don’t pay any attention to it.   “What are you doing here?” Taehyung is incredulous to see you in the morning, standing in the same café as if you own the place.   “I’ve been waiting since eight,” you complain and he repeats his question with increasing skepticism. You suppose it’s not everyday your ex-wife is waiting to run into you, so you don’t blame him for his apprehension. “I’m trying to understand how the two of us got divorced. I know this is probably really weird since for you, I’ve shown out of nowhere after two years.”   “You think?”   You ignore his playful quip. “But for me, my last memory is still going on that date night and getting into that car accident.”   Before Taehyung can utter a word, the barista is calling him as the next person in line. “Can I get—”   A cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings.   “A cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings,” he says without missing a beat and your mouth tugs into a smile. Lots of things may have changed in the time that you no longer remember, but the fact of how constant he is comforts you greatly.    You wait with Taehyung at the counter, feeling his eyes glancing at you every so often. When your eyes meet, he realizes he’s been caught staring.    “Once I remember again and make sense of the situation, I’ll leave you alone,” you say even if it hurts, but the last thing you want is to be burdensome to Taehyung. “I just want to understand and get over it and move on like you have.”   Taehyung sighs, never saying a word.   He picks up his drink and you follow along with him, quietly as to not disrupt the comfortable silence between the both of you.   He walks down the street and enters the modest grocery store, beelining to the deli to pick up a ham sub. But he notices your quirked brow. “What?”   “No.” You shake your head. “Just reminds me of uni. You used to eat those too. Same brand and everything.”   The man scoffs lightly, but he knows. You’ve pointed it out to him many times in the past that he has a tendency to stick to specific habits — the odd quirks that you once said you loved about him.    “Like what?” he had once asked when you mentioned it.   “Like you always put your beverages on your left side and you chug half a glass of water before going to bed and you always close the entire toilet when you’re done going to the bathroom and you have the same brand of cereal every morning and after you sneeze, you always scratch your nose every time,” you had said in the midst of giggles and then lifted yourself up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry. They’re cute and it’s part of why I love you.”   The two of you walk together down the street. The early morning air is crisp and chilly, slightly nipping at his nose. He grips his drink still steaming to warm his hand and Taehyung can’t help stealing a glance at you, wondering if you’re cold too.   “How’d you get started into animation?”   “Huh? Oh. Well, if you really want to know then after you packed your bags and dumped me, it was a pretty good wake up call.” Taehyung laughs as if he’s recalling a funny memory, but then his expression softens, touched with sorrow. “I decided to get myself picked back up and get a job. They liked my personality enough at the interview to give me a chance. At first I didn’t know what I was doing, but I learned and I like it a lot.”   He turns his head when your silence is prolonged.    But his eyes widen when he finds your tender smile. “I’m happy for you, Taehyung.”   And you really are — even in spite of him not technically being a part of your life anymore.   //   The next day, Taehyung is not any more impressed to see you there at the café.    You enthusiastically smile and wave at him. And when the barista calls the two of you in the line, you have no hesitation. “Can I get a cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings? And just an iced americano for me.”   Taehyung eyes you when you pay and stroll to the other counter to wait. “Don’t you have a job to go to?”   “I’m still technically in recovery and it’s not like I can work if my head’s a mess.”   Taehyung scoffs lightly. “What do you want to know this time?”   He can tell by the look in your eye that there are questions on the tip of your tongue. And when you take out a whole laundry list like it’s things you need to buy at a grocery store, a rectangular grin plasters on his face. Taehyung wouldn’t expect any less of you.    “Hey, I was thinking about it all night, alright? I was afraid I was going to forget so I wrote it down.”   He leans over to look at the list but you move away. “Don’t peek.”   “Okay, okay.” He laughs and gestures for you to start.   “First question. What did I say before I left?” You look at him, eyes meeting his. “What were my exact reasons for the divorce?”   He hums a low note, staring off into the distance. “I don’t remember well. You called me a motherfucker though,” Taehyung chuckles and becomes solemn. “Probably something along the lines that I’ve stopped trying and that you were leaving. There was a lot of crying and screaming. I…..don’t really like to think about it.”   There’s a pause and you clear your throat, paper in your hand crinkling and forgotten.   “Why didn’t you ever do anything to stop it?”   A sigh leaves his lips and he runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’m an idiot. But it’s not like I could’ve forced you to stay with me.”   “I’m sure if you had said something, I would’ve stayed.”   Taehyung’s smile is meek and sad, not at all like how it usually is. You wonder just how much you hurt him, how much you hurt each other. “A lot can happen in two years, Y/N.”   A lot can happen in the two years they were apart too.   “Have you been seeing anyone?”   “No. I haven’t,” he says.    It’s a question that tumbled out of you, one not on the list.   //   The evening comes and you hear the front door open and shut. Immediately, you call out from the kitchen, “Hey!”   Yoongi emerges from the hall with another tired smile. “Hey.”   “I got takeout for us,” you say while heating said food up. “How was work? Busy again?”   “A little.” The man comes closer to see what you’ve bought but before he’s able to assess, he mindlessly leans in and plants a soft kiss against your cheek. You instantaneously freeze, the muscles in your body becoming rigid and tense, and Yoongi realizes. “I’m sorry. It’s a bad habit.”   He pulls away, disheartened and guilt wells up in your throat. “It’s okay.”   Yoongi nods and he shrugs off his coat, walking back towards the hall to hang it up, but you stop him before your conscience can berate you, before you hurt him further—   “I saw him again. This morning.”   He halts. He stands still as you watch his backside.   The both of you know who you’re referring to.   “How was it?” Yoongi inquires hesitantly as if he’s not sure if he even should.    “It was good,” you murmur. “I got a few more answers.”   His head turns, the black strands of his hair sweeping against his forehead. Yoongi’s gentle eyes are glossed over, his tone low and husky as he quietly asks, “Can’t you get answers without seeing him?”   “I…..I’m sorry, Yoongi.”   You divert your vision, but from the corner, you can see the way his mouth curls gingerly.   “It’s okay.”   But you know that it isn’t. It’s unfair to him to wait for your memories to return, for you to continuously see someone of your past as he waits for you to come to love him as you once did.   The man retreats into the darkness and you feel guilt overwhelm you.   //   When Taehyung wakes up, does his daily routine and heads to the café, he opens the door and expects to see you. Standing there, waiting for him as if you were the owner or a barista working full time.   “Are you sure you’re not healthy enough to go back to work?” He grins, brows lifted and almost impressed at how adamant you are.   “No.” You loll your head to the side. “I’m still feeling tired.”   Taehyung scoffs lightly, noting that you always show up earlier than he does. “Tired, huh?”   “You must be tired too. Your shirt is inside out.”   “What?” His line of sight follows to where you’re pointing and Taehyung looks down to see that his shirt is indeed inside out. He groans in embarrassment as you laugh.   “Did you not notice?”   He doesn’t answer, grabbing his drink from the counter once the barista calls his name and he books it out of the shop. But not without you following behind him and still giggling.   “Are you sulking?” You quickly catch up to him and quirk your head almost to his shoulder. “I’m just teasing, Tae. It’s not that noticeable.”   “You noticed it.”   “Well I’ve always noticed everything about you.”   He clicks his tongue in feigned annoyance and stops, making you halt on your heels. “Don’t flirt with me, woman. Didn’t you say you were seeing someone?”   You scoff, continuing to walk and this time, he’s the one who follows after you. “Who says I’m flirting with you? I think you’re terribly mistaken and quite frankly, full of yourself.”   Taehyung grins. “It’s not my fault I was born this handsome and have so many people regularly flirting with me.”   “Uh-huh. You’re beginning to sound like Seokjin.”   “He’s not half as handsome as I am.”   You burst out laughing, knowing that your old friend would probably throw a fit if Taehyung openly fought him for the position of most handsome in your group of friends. “I beg to differ.”   “Then why didn’t you marry him back then?”   “Should’ve,” you sing-song much to Taehyung’s chagrin.   The pair of you stop in front of his building, the destination of every morning journey. You know this is where you’ll have to leave him off and see him again tomorrow, wait for just these ten minutes of conversations and banter. But unusually, Taehyung doesn’t bid you farewell right away. He doesn’t run away with his tail in between his legs, shooting you a playful glare over his shoulder.   Instead, he stops with you and smiles. Taehyung lingers on the sidewalk with you.   “Y/N…” He gazes at you.   Your eyes connect with his warm irises and something lodges in your throat, an emotion that only seems to come with him. “Hmm?”   There’s held silence—   “There’s a bug in your hair.”   “What?!”   His palm slaps your forehead before you can flail, not enough for it to hurt, but enough that you’re stunned. You lift your hand to rub the spot and at the same time, a rectangular grin spreads into his face. Taehyung laughs childishly. “Kidding.”   “Are you five years old?!” you shout but it only eggs him on more.   “Sorry, sorry.” He bats your hand away and his fingers come to rub the spot for you instead. “I’m pretty sure it was your face cream and not a bug.”   The proximity is closed. You can feel his breath against your face, count his thick lashes, draw constellations through the tiny freckles around his nose.   You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise into your cheeks and Taehyung catches it. For a moment, his eyes linger against your lips and yours follows down to the dip of his cupid’s bow to the corner of his mouth. There’s a thick tension between the two of you, a kind of intimacy not found between a pair of old friends on a normal morning. It’s a kind of longing that you recognize in Taehyung’s gaze as it’s similar to your own…   You lean in to close the distance completely. But then Taehyung abruptly pulls away.   His vision is diverted to the ground.   All traces of mischief are gone. His mouth has fallen into a straight line, brows knitted together as if he’s in physical pain. “What are we doing, Y/N?”   He doesn’t wait for a response. Taehyung turns and walks away while the knots in your chest constrict you. But you run after him. You take three strides before he can vanish from your life — like what you found when you woke up in that hospital bed. The thought of that returning is terrifying.   “Taehyung!”   “No!” He turns around to face you, shutting you down before the way you call his name can affect him. You’re taken aback by the hurt etched on his expression. “It took me two years to get over you and even now I’m still not over you,” he declares angrily and your eyes widen. “And then you come out of nowhere to make a mess out of my head, playing these games.”   Your brows furrow, upset at his accusations and you shout back at him, “What games?!”   “I know that the moment you remember again, the moment you get over your stupid fucking amnesia, you’re going to dump me!” Taehyung swallows hard. “You’re going to make me go through all of that again. It’s downright cruel, you dense woman!”   “Don’t call me dense!” Without conscious decision, tears begin to shed down your face and you shake your head. “You know that that isn’t my intention.”   “I know.” Taehyung sighs. “But it’s going to happen anyway.”   The pair of you look at one another and then the doors to the building open. A tall man with dimples comes out and is absolutely bewildered at the ruckus. He’s seemingly familiar with Taehyung, perhaps a colleague of his. “Is something wrong, dude?”   “It’s fine.”   “Who’s this?” the stranger asks curiously, smiling at you.   “She’s my ex-wife.”   The man is caught off guard, eyes becoming rounded. “I didn’t know you were married.”   “Yeah, well, I used to be.” Taehyung peeks at you in a silent farewell and you watch his backside leave.

When Taehyung wakes up, does his daily routine and heads to the café, he opens the door and then his breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t know why disappointment seems to overwhelm him when you’re not there and he wonders since when he expected you to be in the first place — standing there, waiting for him.   He stands in line by himself. Makes his order by himself. Picks up his lunch by himself.    Taehyung walks to work alone.   And every so often, he unconsciously glances to his side and then sighs when he catches himself. He’s not sure why he keeps anticipating you to be with him. Why he allows himself to feel frustrated when he remembers you’re not here.   You’ve become Taehyung’s habit.   And now you’re gone.

There’s a timid knock at the door.   A moment later, it cracks open. “Hey, dinner is ready….” Yoongi’s puzzled to find you standing on a stool, reaching to the top of your closet but he smiles, glad to see you lively again. “What are you doing? Do you need help?”   “It’s okay.” You grab the album you were reaching for and wipe off the layer of dust that covers it. “I just remembered I kept old albums up here. Jeez, it’s so dusty.”   Yoongi’s brow lifts. “You remember?”   You nod, smiling at him. “I do.”   The album is flipped open and you step off the stool to sit on the edge of your bed. Yoongi watches you for a moment and exhales softly. “Well, I’ll leave your food on the table.”   You thank him and he takes his leave, shutting the door.   You guess no matter how bad your relationship with Taehyung got, you never had the heart to throw away or burn the photographs. And you’re glad. The photographs of your wedding day are still in tip-top shape, images showing the pair of you glowing in the sunset with his arms wrapped around you. You remember that wedding dress and that suit of his that had to be tailored twice. You remember being late to the ceremony and having to run with Taehyung who snuck out to see you beforehand even though he wasn’t supposed to...…   There are also photographs of your honeymoon, a vacation to the Caribbean, and another trip of Europe that you went on during your university days. But above all, there are photos of the pair of you in front of the newly built house. Proud and ecstatic. The seashell white home with the dark brown roof and large windows and skylights standing tall behind you two. Ready to house your future.   Some things change but these memories won’t.   //   The sprinklers spritzes across the freshly mowed lawn, a sputtering hiss that leaves a mist in the air. You step up the stone path to the cherry wood door, noticing the golden nameplate under the mailbox, but you don’t dwell. In your haze, your closed fist comes to steadily knock at the door.   It swings open.   Inside, you find someone with warm eyes, brunette hair and a boxy smile. He encapsulates the sunlight itself, so bright that it’s hard to discern who exactly it is. But you feel like you know. Like you had known before you even knocked and the door opened.   The man calls your name.   And you’re shaken awake from the beautiful dream. And you wake to an empty bedside, tears welling up in your eyes. It’s the middle of the night, darkness surrounding you and weighing heavily against your body. But you fight against it and rip the covers off of your body, grabbing a cardigan off your chair and rushing down the hall.   Yoongi is stirred from the noise and gets up from the couch.    “Where are you going?” he asks in a husky voice, running a hand through his hair that’s sticking in all directions. But the sleepiness leaves the man as he watches you shake your head, struggling to put on your shoes with tears in your eyes.   “I-I need to go, Yoongi.”   But for the first time, he reaches out.    Yoongi’s hand clasps around your wrist to stop you, having an inkling that you might never return. “I won’t let you.” His foot is finally placed down, but the decision has long been made.   “I’m sorry, Yoongi.”   “Don’t say that,” he desperately pleads.   “But I am. It’s unfair to you. That I’ve treated you this badly while all you’ve ever been is patient and considerate and understanding. But I don’t want you to wait for me anymore.”   “You’re not going back to your asshole of an ex-husband. He was horrible to you.”   “Yoongi, what do you expect me to do?” It’s a genuine question that you ask. You’re at a loss and the words choke out of you, but you had these feelings the moment you had awoken in that hospital bed. “I love him.”   The pause draws on and you lower your gaze.   “It’s not fair for you to wait for me to love you instead. I’m in love with Taehyung.”   Yet in spite of your words, Yoongi still pulls you into him. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes you tight as if you might vanish between his fingertips. You come to realize that you never gave Yoongi a chance to express his love to you — you never kissed him or held him despite how long he waited.   You feel him tremble against you. The man who you had woken to presses his face to your shoulder, his quiet tears staining your thin clothing. You return his hug, arms lifted around his torso and grasping him close. You remember who he is. You know well.   He’s Min Yoongi, the man who you loved.   After a moment, he releases you. “Go.”   You nod. “I’ll always be thankful to you, Yoongi. More than you’ll realize.”   //   The car door slams shut.   You cross the street, approaching the house that still stands tall on the quiet suburban street illuminated by lamp posts. You’re not sure what you’re doing here at this time of night and you know you’ll just be disheartened when you see another family inside, living in the space that was meant for you and Taehyung. But you needed to see it.   It’s your home. What you made with Taehyung. Physical proof of your planned devotion to one another.   The house is dark and you assume that the people inside are long asleep. So you take a moment to gaze at it, heart aching inside your chest, and after ten minutes, you turn to walk away and leave your home behind. But then a car drives down the road. It’s a modest vehicle and as you wait for it to pass to cross the street, it instead pulls into the driveway of the house.   The headlights turn off. The engine dies. The car door opens.   And you freeze, watching the person emerge.   “Taehyung?!”   The strapping brunette man is unmistakable. He’s dressed in his work clothes, casual sweater and black trousers, his leather crossbody bag slung across his torso. He looks tired from what you can see with the glow of the many street lights, his hair messy and eyes weary. But he still has the energy to be shocked at your sudden presence.    Shocked as if he’s been caught in the act. “What are you doing here?”   You speak on an exhale. “Y-You bought the house back again?”   He bought it after the two of you lost it. Even when there’s no reason to.   Not unless it still holds sentimental value. Not unless the memories held in there were ones he still cherishes. Not unless he still loves you.   Taehyung murmurs your name, “Y/N…”   You run to him, closing the distance, throwing your arms around his neck. And you kiss the silly man breathlessly, pressing your mouth against his and swallowing the groan that leaves his lungs. His arms wrap around your back, holding you close and quickly reciprocating. His head tilts and his tongue slips into your mouth, drawing noises out of you like when you were young and still exploring one another.   But it’s a kiss of sadness and longing — yet still sweet even after so much time has passed.   After a handful of seconds, Taehyung pulls away.   “W-What are we doing?” He shakes his head, letting go of you.   But you grab hold of his hand. “I still love you, Taehyung. I love you.”   His earnest eyes search yours. “How….how do I know you won’t just remember why you wanted to leave me. How do I know it won’t happen all over again? We’re still the same people, Y/N. It didn’t work once.”    “I don’t care,” you spit at him desperately. “To me, it feels like it was until yesterday that we were still married and in love. And right now, right now I still love you, Taehyung. I miss you. I don’t care what happened, that you lost your job, lost the house and started to feel bad about yourself and gave up on us.”    Taehyung’s eyes are rounded and his lips part. “You….remember?”   You nod. “I have gradually for a while now.”   Bits and pieces had fallen together the longer you spent with him, the more you looked at pictures and mementos, and searched your memories. They were loose puzzle pieces, moments of time, until you fit them together to create a whole picture. To finally understand why things happened the way they did.   And you can finally recall the downward spiral of Taehyung all those years ago. How he abruptly got laid off, losing his dream job that he had worked so hard to obtain, how the two of you lost the house when your sole income was no longer enough and how depressed he became about losing that home. How he sat at his desk for two years in the dark, playing games and wasting time, giving up on searching for a job and refusing to get himself help in his poor mental state.   You remember how he ignored you until you felt like his mother and couldn’t take it anymore. How he pushed your sanity enough that you had to walk away before you were damaged.    But in spite of all that has happened…   “I still love you.”   He’s an absolute shit, but you love him.   Without being able to blink, Taehyung tugs you in by your waist and he presses his lips against yours, holding you close to him. You smile against his mouth before your hands lift to cup his cheeks, cradling his face as he deepens the kiss. It’s desperate, hungering to make up for lost time, fulfilling the yearning that has dwelled between the pair of you each time you spoke.   Taehyung kisses you like he’s missed you more and the pair of you barely manage to break apart to stumble into the house.   “I can’t believe you bought this place back.” It’s a whirlwind, nostalgia slamming into you as you step into the foyer. You’re overwhelmed with emotion, feeling a staggering urge to start crying.   “Had to do a lot of negotiating, but I did it,” he murmurs proudly, happy to show you how he’s picked himself up, how he found another passion and followed the path, that he’s no longer so pathetic. “All on my own too.”   “Taehyung…”   He kisses you again, less gentle than before. He’s merciless, hands placed on your hips and your back arches into him until the force of his body causes the two of you to fall backwards onto the floor. Taehyung catches your head so that it never hurts and he hovers over you, leg between your knees while he peels off his coat.    “I’m sorry,” he says softly, gazing into your eyes. “I never got to tell you that. I’m sorry for hurting you.”   You nod, grasping at his forearms that’s next to your head and he takes the opportunity to lean down. Taehyung lay pecks against your cheek until he moves his way down to suck bruising kisses into your neck. You cry his name, writhing against him as he palms your breast and leaves his marks all over you.   Taehyung eats you out on the cool tiled floors of the foyer entrance, filling the house with obscene sounds that make you embarrassed. But you can’t complain, not when you’re sobbing his name and your fingers are sinking into his hair.   You end up cumming all over his swollen lips and chin, and you bat at him when he grins and says it’s delicious. Before Taehyung can completely ruin the mood, you grab him and with little warning, his cock sinks into your cunt, head poking right at the entrance of your cervix. You feel full and he begins to pound into you, satisfying that itch you’ve had for so long.   Taehyung makes you look at him the entire time and as you hold him, it hits you just how much you missed him. Tears leak from your eyes and it only eggs him on to be rougher. His fingers sink into the meat of your thigh and his mouth leaves hickeys down the valley of your breasts to admire later. You cum again and then he presses his pelvis into yours and cums in you as well, painting your walls in white.   Despite being sweaty and sticky, Taehyung kisses you again and the two of you hold one another. He’s sweet and affectionate until he starts to push his cum back into you with his fingers when you begin to leak.   “Now you’re not even trying to hide the fact you want me to get pregnant.”   The man mischievously grins. “Last I checked, it was yesterday that we wanted kids.”   You burst out laughing, unable to argue with that but…. “We’re not even married anymore. What would your mom think?”   “She would probably cry tears of happiness if she knew we were together again. And marriage…” He interlaces his hands with yours. “We could make it happen again. If you want.”   You nod. “I do.”

It’s another chance. Another do over.   You wonder if you had never lost your memories and tried to chase them down, if you would’ve ever reached out to Taehyung again and reignite the spark between the two of you. Had you not found him again, you wonder if you would’ve known that he’s picked himself again and returned to the man you fell in love with. It’s hard to say but those things are yesterday’s problems.   Today, you look towards the future.   “Wake up, sleepy head.”   On any other day, you might kick him in the knee for waking you up on a weekend, but it’s been so long that you don’t mind whatsoever. Taehyung’s mischief is world’s better than waking up to an empty bedside or to someone you can’t genuinely love as much.   “Ugh.” You open your eyes and immediately slap a palm against his mouth. “Don’t kiss me. Morning breath.”   Taehyung peels your hand off, grins and smooches you anyway. You laugh and quickly reciprocate.   When it’s all done and over, he snuggles into you. “You know…” You’re wrapped in each other’s arms and you slowly blink awake, glad that you’ve finally woken up with him beside you. “...those brown walls in this room are going to have to change.”   Taehyung laughs. “Happily.”   There’s nothing been more certain of. You want to spend tomorrow with Taehyung and the day after that and the day after that.   Until eternity.

[liamscxtt]

a day in the life ; self para

when: thursday, august 28th

where: literally everywhere

nb: just a brief (long) narrative of what the typical day looks like for liam.

trigger warnings: homelessness, death and drug mentions, drug abuse

5:00am

there’s a moment when you first wake up when everything is just a haze. a moment when you forget who you are, what day it is -- all of your problems just don’t exist, for that moment. the moment only lasted a few seconds before the blaring sound of the alarms coming from the phone bring you back to the brutal aspects of reality. and yet, those were the best five seconds for liam.

groaning, he turned over and tapped on his screen, desperately trying to shut the alarm off; the bright screen burning his already sleep deprived eyes. he probably only got about three hours of sleep, if that. he was used to it at this point, and then there were days like today. days where he wanted to wither into the depths of his own self-loathing. 

he looked out the window to see the sun beginning to rise. a sky painted with shades of blues, purples, and oranges, almost like a messy yet somewhat neatly put together painting made by a middle schooler. there was something beautiful about waking up with the sun, parts of it that brought him peace. his sister loved watching the sunrise - she always went on and on about how sunrises were the true underdog; how mother nature picked it’s most beautiful mixture of colors for the sunrises, all because it took a special person to appreciate the beauty that came from it. he never really understood what she meant, until he was forced to watch the sun rise every single morning. and as always, she was right. sunsets had nothing against sunrises. 

these quiet mornings were the best part of liam’s day. the hours where he felt most connected to his sister and to himself. the hours he felt truly at peace. it was crazy to think that liam’s favorite time of the day was between 5:00am and 6:30am. 

he turned on his car to play youtube on his aux before climbing out of his vehicle. the sweet melody’s of the soft pitched tunes filled his car and the immediate area surrounding it, and a smile creeped on his face as one of her favorite songs began playing in the background. he wasn’t religious, but there was a part of him that truly found strength in knowing that his sister wasn’t far away. 

he rolled up the worn down mattress topper, collected his pillow and blanket in one hand. he broke down his bed as he pushed the backseat of his 2006 ford escape upright and neatly tucked his belongings into his trunk. 

5:30am

he pulled into the vacant parking lot of the soulstice gym. the gym was set to open in a half hour; luckily for him, there weren’t many college students that would dare to wake up at the crack of dawn just to work out. he stuffed everything he needed to get ready for the day into a duffle bag; shower supplies, and a clean outfit. he desperately needed to do laundry, and he needed to get food...but pay day wasn’t until next week. he was gonna have to find cash, and find it quick - maybe he’ll just pick up another shift at the bar. he practically lived at that place now.

his footsteps echoed through as he walked through the empty fitness center; not even the cleaners had arrived for their early morning shift. he quickly hopped into the showers and get ready for the day. lord knows he needed to wash the dirt and sins that painted his skin from the previous nights festivities. he couldn’t even recall what exactly happened, and that was both a blessing and a curse. it was shortly after he turned on all the lights and greeted the early morning cleaners, jimmy and george. 

“good morning, son!” greeted george. 

“mornin’, will.” jimmy greeted shortly after. 

jimmy and george worked closely together, and were usually gone for the day 2pm; and yet, liam knew the guys quite well. 

jimmy is in his early-forties, married with two children. he worked two full time jobs to get his children through school. his son played division II baseball at a school somewhere in the midwest, and is majoring in sports education. he wants to be a gym teacher. his daughter is studying to be a nurse at monarch. she aspires to work in women’s health. jimmy always spoke so highly of them two. 

george is in his mid-sixties, but is still kicking it like he’s twenty. he’s also married with children and even grandchildren, but his story is more tragic. he’s a retired firefighter, who is still working a full time job because his pension wasn’t enough to make ends meet. can’t make ends meet. his only daughter passed away at a young age - drug overdose, he says. his only son is constantly in and out of jail for drug charges - leaving george and his wife to take care and raise their two grandchildren, layla and michael. layla is 14 and is getting ready to start high school. she loves to play volleyball, and apparently is a natural. michael is 9 and is getting ready to start fourth grade. he love cars, spider man, legos, sonic, and baseball cards. he wants to be a youtube gamer when he grows up. liam didn’t know the kid, but he thought he was fucking awesome. 

two completely different stories, and yet liam believed that those two men deserved the world and then some.

“what’s up, guys?” liam greeted with a smile as he filled up his metal water bottle at the nearest filling station. “when are the kids set to go back, george?”

“this coming monday. mikey’s already complaining how he doesn’t need school to be a youtuber. apparently he’s ‘done his research’.” the comment makes both liam and jimmy laugh. 

“tell the little man to put that energy into a sport, or a trade. i need a new mechanic.” jim jested, once again causing the other two to laugh. “what about you, will? getting ready to start the semester back up? gabby is already stressing because some of her professors already posted the syllabus.” 

“shit, i haven’t even gotten my textbooks yet. i might have to join mikey with this whole youtuber plan and hope for the best.” liam said with a nervous chuckle. he almost had completely forgotten about the upcoming semester approaching. 

to quickly divert the question away from him, he spoke once more. “say, george. i found a few baseball cards at the bar the other night. remind me to bring them in for you.” 

“you’ll make that boys entire week. maybe i’ll use that to bribe him to go to school.” 

jimmy just smiled. “you’re a good kid, scotty boy. never change.” 

2:30pm

it had only been a half hour since liam clocked out from his morning job, and he quickly made his way over to the library. the mention of school that morning brought liam into a panic. he grabbed a spot at one of desks in the computer station, powering on the device and pulling out his notebook. luckily enough, most of the textbooks he needed the library had available. leaving his stuff behind, he went to go fetched them. 

he already had mastered the technique of not having his own textbooks. every week, he would go and scan all of the chapters he needed for each and every class. luckily, monarch offered free scanning and printing. he made small talk with the librarian that sat at the desk nearby as he printed out at least three weeks worth of chapters for each of his classes. 

he sat down once more, and took the time to put the pile of papers neatly into his binder. it was time to start planning. 

6:30pm

now it was time to work his night time job, mars bar. he was working with adrian tonight, so he knew it wouldn’t be that bad.

his stomach had been grumbling half way through his shift. he hadn’t eaten anything all day. but he continued to push through. he had to, at least until pay day. he continued to chug water; if his stomach was full of water, his body didn’t have time to remind him that it needed some sort of nutrients. he was a master manipulator when it came to his own body now. 

1:00am

the rounded out the tips that he received from his customers. it was a good night, and luckily enough he would be able to do laundry the next day. his body was tired, though; aching from the lack of sleep and abuse his body endured from the festivities. he felt like he could sleep for an entire month, and then some. 

he drove around for a bit after his shift, a thing he did as he needed to both unwind and find a somewhat safe space to park his car. university police were patrolling the parking lots that night, which immediately told him not to park there. he couldn’t park in greek row - too many people he knew by this point. he was left to park in a nearby park, in a nearby neighborhood. he found himself saying a small prayer that nobody would mess with him that night. 

he lit up a joint once he found his place, feeling the smoke fill his lungs as he listened to the calming music that played on the radio. ed sheeran was playing, a song from his multiply album. it was one of his and his sister’s favorite albums. that’s the one thing they shared in common, their taste in music. but she was more pop in a sense, and he was more edgy. but still, the music brought him comfort.

he got his bed ready; a mattress topper, paired with a pillow and a blanket. he made himself comfortable and looked at his phone, just to see he missed a text from his mother at 10:45pm.

hi honey! spoke with your aunt today, and we’re making plans for christmas. did your father reach out to you? let me know what plans he has set. i’ll arrange my trip around your plans. 

i hope you had a great day! i love you! ❤️

her message was followed by a bitmoji image of her holding a huge heart. and he smiled. 

i haven’t spoken to him all week, but i’ll reach out tomorrow and let you know. i’ll call you tomorrow. love you ❤️

there was a huge part of him that wanted to call her now, that wanted to tell her he had been struggling both physically and mentally...but then he remembered the damage and the financial burden his injury left. it ruined his family. he ruined his family. and just as he was about to press call, he let out a frustrated sigh before locking his phone and tossing it not too far away from him, rolling over to attempt to get some sort of rest.

just to do the same thing. all. over. again.

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Writing Commission - Where I Want To Be - Chapter One

And here we are with chapter one of my latest finished commission piece Where I Want To Be! This is an AllEraserMic story dealing with anxiety, past traumas, and making it through a rough day with the people we love supporting us. I hope you guys enjoy! 

(This will be posted to my AO3 after my suspension is lifted on October 12th.)

                                                        ⁂

Summary: Yamada Hizashi, better known as the Voice Hero Present Mic, is a busy man. He has classes and students to teach English to, an agency that always seemed to be in the middle of a disaster to help deal with, and a radio station that was one bad show away from being cancelled to run. He doesn’t have time for a bad day triggered by nightmares and fears and anxieties that just never seem to stop.

Luckily for him, his partners are Aizawa Shouta and Yagi Toshinori and neither of those two are very good at leaving Hizashi to suffer alone.

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia    

Relationship: Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic/Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic/Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yagi Toshinori | All Might

Characters: Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yagi Toshinori | All Might

Rating: Teen Audiences

Word Count: 29,323

Transaction Amount: $200 (USD)

WARNINGS FOR: Past childhood abuse (both emotional and physical) and anxiety attacks verging on panic to PTSD episodes. Please read with caution if needed. 

                                                      ⁂ 

             Check out my writing commission information here!                    Pledge to my Patreon to get exclusive content!                                Or buy me a coffee on Ko-Fi!

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                                            Chapter Index

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                                                   ⁂

Rapid, quick breaths were smothered against small, trembling hands, trying to muffle as much sound as possible as words creeped under the door and, “I told you that he was too dangerous! We never should have brought him here!” 

A change years later and years ago and hands, larger but still shaking with terror that would never be gone, clutched at a chest that gasped for breath as sweet words were whispered to him and, “It’s better this way, don’t you think? So nice and quiet -- so safe.” 

Footsteps that were never particularly hurried but sounded as if they were from giants and monsters. 

The dull, muted sound of bruised and scratched leather straining against equally mistreated metal, the sounds so soft and yet louder than screaming. 

Reaching hands that had promised safely, but had only ever given him pain and then silence and it was never anything but silence and he couldn’t scream-

Yamada Hizashi sucked in a slow, trembling breath, eyes squeezed shut and heart pounding quick enough to be felt throughout his entire body as he tried to focus on the blankets and sheets pooled around his hips as his fingers scrapped against the edges of his jaw and the curve of his cheeks, digging into rough, cracked leather and rusty metal with jagged edges that caught on the tips of his fingers and hurt-

“‘Zashi?” Just like that, after hearing a single sleepy murmur, Hizashi sucked in a ragged, uneven breath as he felt imagined leather and metal disappear for sore, scratched skin. A panicked look around the room showed cracked, broken walls at the edges of his vision replaced in favor of soft, deep blue painted walls that were filled with pictures and posters of all types. 

Another look showed torn, ragged curtains no longer over the busted window, but instead blackout curtains that were teased open to show the early stirring of dawn outside a pristine window with not a crack in sight. Scratchy sheets and blankets had vanished in favor of something soft and smooth and filled with lingering warmth. 

The adrenaline coursing through him vanished in half a heartbeat, Hizashi already starting to feel the drop as he fell back down to lay on the soft, large bed that was sturdy and not about to fall apart at the slightest kick. He managed to suck in another ragged breath, forcing his eyes to stay open and look at his room instead of that room.

Altogether Hizashi gave himself ten seconds to let panic utterly consume him before he carefully and slowly shoved it back down. Ten seconds, plus one more, and Hizashi was feeling along his face again, fingertips sliding against his jaw and cheeks and working over wispy scars that could only just be felt by his touch. 

It was only an afterthought that he noticed a warm arm sliding under his hiked-up shirt and pressing against his bare stomach; rough, callused fingertips pressed against his side sharp enough to almost hurt. He probably would have complained if the hard, grounding touch wasn’t exactly what he needed, the touch doing such a good job of reminding him that he was awake and not back there because he would never be back there again never again he would rather die-

“Breathe.” The word was muffled and soft, spoken right into his ear at just loud enough of a volume that he could hear it without his hearing aids. It was the low, familiar tone that the word was spoken in that had him sucking in a breath more than the word itself, Hizashi not fighting as he was pulled in closer. Whoever said Aizawa Shouta was shit at comfort had never spent longer than ten seconds with the man, Hizashi firmly decided.

A tap to the divot of his jaw had him jolting for a moment before he was right back to his list, mentally ticking it off and, right, no leather straps and no rusted metal. A deep breath that turned into a yawn had him stretching his jaw wide, the movement easy and smooth without anything in the way to hold him back.

A double tap to the side of his neck -- close to his throat but never dare touching -- had him pushing out another breath before he was dredging up the edges of his quirk, clicks and whistles leaving at ranges that were either inaudible or only just loud enough to be heard. It got a grumble of complaint from the man beside him, but if anything, the grip still around Hizashi only tightened. 

Hizashi barely focused on the warm skin pressed against his own and the soft breaths that curled around his jaw and neck with warm, heated air. Instead he could only focus on the taps on the side of his neck with soft, careful fingers, counting him through his checks. Three taps for humming, four taps for volume sliding, and five taps for his quirk to finally start working through his entire voice. 

Six taps to show he could freely speak and, as always, six taps and Hizashi felt himself go completely limp like his strings had been cut, gasping for breath as he felt inaudible words pressed against his skin and a hand on his chest pressing down, forcing him to focus on the fact that, as a living human being who was still alive, he needed to actually breathe instead of gasping for air. 

The only change in a routine that was years old were the thinner, longer fingers that so carefully brushed long, tangled hair out of his face before tapping at the edges of an ear, and, right, no hearing aids. Hizashi should probably fix that. Thankfully the men in his life were perfect and it only took a single nod before Yagi Toshinori -- All Might -- was helping him with his hearing aids. All Might. Because he and Shouta were dating All Might. 

What was even better was that they were dating Toshinori who was so sweet it was almost sickening. It was a reminder that was just enough to tip him over into finally focusing fully and completely back in the present. “-need anything? Medicine? Tea? Water? Snacks?”

Toshinori’s panicked questions -- really the man was so sweet -- were cut off by Shouta’s sharp snort of laughter. “Keep going like that and you’re going to inflate his ego and spoil him at the same time. And between the two of you? There’s enough ego in this building.” 

“Excuse you.” Right. Hizashi could focus on banter and jokes, edges of fear shoved away to the back of his mind. “I’ll have you know that it’s not ego when everyone knows we’re the best at what we do.” The dual sounds of laughter, one rough and quiet and the other a sharp bark of surprise, had Hizashi more thankful than ever that he rarely, if ever, had to wake up alone. 

“If ‘being the best at what you do’ involves being the center of attention, then I suppose I can’t disagree,” Shouta sighed as if suffering some great defeat, Hizashi unable to muster up the words that would ever describe how thankful he was that Shouta knew when to keep joking; when to keep talking. 

“You’re so mean, Shou-chan,” Hizashi pouted, halfheartedly trying to sit up and completely unsurprised when Shouta’s grip didn’t so much as loosen. If anything, it tightened, Hizashi sucking in a slow breath at the wonderful grounding sensation. “Why are you so mean to the men who love you?”

“It keeps you struggling to meet my approval, so you’ll never leave my side.” Shouta’s tone was as dry as a summer heat wave and Hizashi couldn’t help but to delight in it, noticing that Toshinori looked like he was trying to hold back his own laughter. Really, the man seemed to be far too awake for such an early hour. 

Hizashi picked up Shouta’s wickedly dry tone, turning it into something playfully accusing as he ‘glared’ up at the other man, “And, excuse you, Mr. Number One Hero, just why were you up and out of bed before the sun is even fully up?”

“Oh! Well, ah…” All Might may have been brash and bold and impossible to fluster, but Yagi Toshinori? It was too easy to fluster him and Hizashi loved it. “I was actually- Well, I thought-” The man floundered, finally gesturing towards a silver tray sitting on the edge of the bed that was set up with what looked like tea and a few plates of breakfast foods. “Breakfast in bed?” 

Hizashi stared at the tray and everything on it, finally looking over at Shouta. The man was still wrapped around him and looked half-asleep, but his expression was much the same as Hizashi’s; vaguely irritated. Really, though, how the hell had they managed to end up in a relationship with the sweetest guy on the planet. It was enough of a conundrum that Hizashi was almost fully distracted from… earlier. 

“What the hell, yo, we talked about this. You can’t just- You can’t just go and be all sweet like that! We need warning before you go and make us feel all mushy like this!” Hizashi shifted to finally sit up fully and properly, doing nothing to hide his smile when Toshinori was quick to help him.

His smile fell, though, with Toshinori’s next words, “Shall I take your dramatics as an escape from talking about what just happened?” The look he was given was way too knowing, Shouta’s not much better and damn the fact Hizashi had fallen in love with two incredible pro heroes who were too smart for their own good. 

“What happened? Psh, please, Toshi, it was just a nightmare. Those are a dime a dozen!” The American phrase did nothing to erase Toshinori’s frown, which, yeah. He was definitely worried. It didn’t help when Shouta sat up next, hand moving to cup Hizashi’s cheek and rub against an almost invisible scar. “I’m- I’m fine.” 

“I really would love to believe that,” Toshinori sighed, sounding regretful as his hand cupped Hizashi’s other cheek, thumb brushing away the feeling of wetness. “But you’re crying, sweetheart.” 

“Oh.” Hizashi went still between their grips, thoughts feeling like they were both screaming and yet so very quiet. It was an unnerving combination that had him struggling to keep his breathing even, knowing the two would worry even more if he gave in to the urge to have a complete and total mental breakdown. 

It had been years and he should have been over what had happened so long ago. He was a pro hero for fuck’s sake. He had faced more terrifying villains on his daily patrols than he had in childhood. He shouldn’t be waking up from a nightmare an immediately crying like a little kid.

Fighting for his composure, and barely putting up a fight at all considering he knew how it would all end, Hizashi offered up a weak, “Haven’t you heard? I’m an absolute crybaby. I cry over papercuts.” 

“I’ve noticed.” Toshinori’s smile was too warm and too knowing. For as much as it helped settle something in Hizashi, it felt like it burned him just as badly. “Unlike some others I could name.” Here he shot a very pointed look at Shouta, Hizashi unable to help a startled snort of laughter at the action. “You’re a very emotional person, sweetheart, but you tend to cry only when it doesn’t matter or when it matters far too much.”

“Still earning that title of Number One, huh?” Hizashi didn’t dare close his eyes, he knew far too well what he could see if he were to do that, but he did look away from the two. He had been dealing with his nightmares for years, but the shame never seemed to change. “Sorry. I probably woke you two up, and neither of you get the amount of rest you should.”

There was a beat of silence. A single moment where everything was silent and Hizashi feared before Toshinori let out a scoff that could rival Shouta at his most annoyed. “Are you- He is, isn’t he?” A glance up showed Toshinori was looking between him and Shouta, Hizashi not sure if the man was playfully upset or actually upset. “Did you just apologize for having a nightmare that caused you a traumatic and unavoidable reaction that you have absolutely no control over?”

Hizashi glanced to Shouta for help, the man staring at him with lidded eyes and a lazy smirk that all but screamed abandonment. “I mean,” Hizashi finally managed after a moment, swallowing nervously, clearing his throat, and trying to muster up a winning smile. “I wouldn’t say it quite like that, really.” 

“You wouldn’t say it at all because it’s the truth,” Shouta said, Hizashi flicking his gaze to Shouta and giving him a dirty look that he hoped the other man felt. It was a shame that he would have to destroy the man for betraying him at last. “Hizashi.”

“Shouta,” Hizashi snapped back, flinching at hearing the sharp bite in his tone that sang with the very edges of his quirk. The only thing that kept him from spiraling was the flash of red from Shouta’s eyes, serious and calm and locked on him. Hizashi really was too lucky when it came to the men he loved. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Shouta sighed, finally sitting up properly, Hizashi wincing as his hearing aids picked up every sharp crack Shouta’s joints and spine made just by sitting up. Judging by Toshinori’s wavering hands and fretful expression, he could hear the same sounds and was just as worried. “Quit it. You two act like this every morning I so much as twitch.”

Hizashi choked down a laugh, not sure if he was more amused by Shouta’s adorable morning grumpiness or the fact that Toshinori actually looked like he had been scolded. It was- It was good. It was normal. It reminded him of the present where there were warm hands and soft smiles and not… there. 

“Hizashi.” Toshinori’s soft voice captured his attention in only a way that he and Shouta had ever been able to manage. “Don’t apologize for this.” Mouth already half-open to argue, Hizashi frowned as Toshinori hooked a finger under his chin and pushed up until he closed his mouth with a small snap. 

There was a beat of quiet where all three of them didn’t say a word. While Shouta tensed up beside him and seemed ready for Hizashi to completely lose his mind and his cool and have a complete and utter panic attack, Hizashi only felt… insulted. He felt insulted and that adorable, incredible bastard was smirking at him as his fingers shifted to rub against his cheek. 

“You don’t need to apologize for bad days, sweetheart,” Toshinori said softly, leaning in to brush his lips against the cheek he had been wiping away tears from. Hizashi might have been embarrassed if he had possessed even so much as a shred of shame left. As it was, he leaned into the touch at once, breath stuttering out of him in what felt like relief -- or maybe absolution was the better word. 

God. He didn’t know what he would have ever done if it wasn’t for Shouta and Toshinori. He probably would have ended up dead after biting off more than he could chew after first becoming a sidekick. As it was, though, Shouta had been there every second Hizashi had needed him, and Toshinori, for as new as it all still was between them, fit in far too well. 

“Hizashi,” Toshinori spoked quietly, drawing his attention out of his thoughts as easy as anything. “Do you want to stay home-?”

“No!” The answer burst out of him before he could even try to stop it, quirk stirring around at the edges as Shouta’s arm snuck around his waist and gripped him tightly. Neither of the two so much as flinched, Toshinori only giving him a long, searching look. 

“You wouldn’t be the first teacher to need a day of rest,” Toshinori said, but Hizashi could hear the defeat in his voice and feel it in the way his touch lightened. “Then again, I suppose neither Shouta nor I set very good examples on resting.” 

Hizashi finally laughed, anxiety still coursing through him and fear digging under his skin, “Of course you two don’t. Some of the worst fights of your lives and you two just go right back to work as soon as possible -- which is why I’ll be fine. This is just some nightmare, after all, and it’s not even a new one. This happens every so often. I know how to deal with it.” 

And if it were any other day Hizashi would have had nothing against lying in bed and letting his lovers spoil him and keep him safe and calm. As it was, though, he was a pro hero English teacher and radio DJ who had work to do. What’s more, Shouta and Toshinori each had their own work to do, too. A nightmare wasn’t an excuse for all three of them to blow off work that was far too important to ignore.

Besides, work was a routine. Routines could be good. It reminded him that he was no longer… there. What’s more was that it kept him busy, with no time to linger on thoughts and memories and whispers that brushed at the back of his mind. Keeping busy and moving meant he couldn’t hear the soft voice telling him that isn’t that so much better, Hizashi-

“Fine.” Toshinori’s sudden movement had Hizashi startling, unable to even muster up a reply before the tray full of tea and breakfast foods was placed on his lap. “But that means taking care of yourself and eating something- Don’t even think about it.” Toshinori’s gaze snapped to Shouta, who had no doubt been about to flee because getting him to eat in the mornings was like getting Nemuri to wear sensible clothing when in public. Impossible. 

Shouta, as expected, was disgruntled and complaining at once, Hizashi letting himself fall quiet between them. While the normalcy of watching the two argued helped, he still could feel his heart tripping over itself, barely able to withstand the weight of fear and memories that pressed down around him; suffocating him. He could feel rusted metal and frayed leather digging into his jaw an across his cheeks, keeping him silent.

It was going to be a bad day, Hizashi decided to himself. Which was… It wasn’t fine, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he could manage it. It wouldn’t be his first bad day, after all, and he had dealt with what would come next before.

He had dealt with it all before, after all; the urge to clam up and go completely quiet in fear of the wrong person hearing him, the desire to scream and yell as loud as he could to prove that he could, the phantom sensation of metal and leather digging into him, the racing fear spreading through his veins, and even the whispers of memories and voices that had never left him. It would be bad, but he could deal with it.

As far as he was concerned, he would act as if it was just a normal day. Even if he wanted to crawl into a corner and hide and wait for it to be over, he couldn’t do that. Even if his stomach twisted and turned and rejected the very idea of a cup of tea, let alone anything solid, Hizashi knew he couldn’t just blow the day off and hide away and scream about how unfair life could be.

He had gone through bad days before and he had work to do. He had students to help and teach, he had his agency relying on him to help their country be a safe place, and he had his radio show out there reminding people that the world wasn’t all bad things and villains.

His boys were sweet to worry about him, but it would be fine. He would be fine. And if he wasn’t, just like he never truly was, then that didn’t matter. 

Present Mic had work to do.

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Tidings of Something” (au)

Summary: When Emma gets injured during a routine bail bonds job, it may be the Christmas miracle she never knew she needed, if only because it finally gets her to open her eyes about the man that helps her through everything. Killian would’ve preferred the Christmas without picking Emma up from a hospital, but doesn’t much mind the way it all turns out.

Rating: Barely even T, I think.

A/N: So maybe it would’ve given me away had I said “Hi @captainmorningstar! I’m your secret santa and I’m never on time!” and she would’ve been like “Oh! My santa is lifeinahole because she never posts anything when she’s supposed to!” and then at least it would’ve been anticlimactic when I forgot to hit anon. Despite all that, I had a blast gathering the info for this and writing it. Thanks to @cssecretsanta2k19 for putting this together - for putting us together. I had such a fun time getting to know my darling giftee and writing this tailored gift for her. I hope you enjoy it, my dear!

-x-

It’s the second week of December, and already Emma has heard the song playing over the speakers at least twenty times. It doesn’t help that there are only thirteen Christmas songs total and the radio stations just cycle through each iteration on an endless loop. Despite all of this, though, Emma is humming along to the soft strains of an instrumental “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” as the pain meds finally start to do their job.

“Swan?”

The sound of his voice is sweeter than any song ever could be, and with a struggle, Emma opens her eyes to the bright fluorescents overhead, blinking until Killian’s face comes into focus above her.

“Hi there,” he says when he can see she’s tuned in.

“Hi,” she responds, her voice dreamy and her smile as big and as dopey as she imagines it is. She’s caught up in the blue of his eyes, the perfect lines of his face, the worry lines crinkling his forehead as he visually checks her over.

She’s fine, of course. Not the first time she sprained her wrist, but the rib subluxation is something she could’ve lived without.

The stress on Killian’s face fades slightly as he looks at her, relief taking its place.

“You had me worried, love.”

“Nothing to worry about,” she wheezes out as she struggles to sit up. “I’m fine.” A deep inhale of breath says otherwise as her left side reminds her of that whole rib thing and she winces, doing her best to keep her breathing even so she doesn’t hurt herself again.

He hums his response, settling onto the bed next to her as he asks her to explain what happened. It’s a brief story, thankfully: bail runner caught on, shoved her as hard as he could, and took off. It wasn’t until she’d slapped the cuffs onto him that she realized she was in pain, once the adrenaline started to wear off. Somehow, she made it to the hospital on her own and it wasn’t until they said she wouldn’t be able to drive home that she realized she was going to need help. Enter Killian: faithful friend, dockworker with an understanding boss, love of her life that she’s never told.

He smells like salt today, and there’s a hint of fish from working so close to the cannery, but she doesn’t mind, not when she carefully rests her head on his shoulder and melts into his embrace grabbing onto his prosthetic hand in a gesture of comfort. She’s not sure how much longer she can stay awake, so she’s thankful when the doctor finally comes in with her final advice for recovery.

Emma’s going to be off work for a while, which is going to suck. She’s set for now, but a month is a long time to go without a paycheck. The only bright side is that she works her ass off all year so she can take it easy around Christmas, so she was looking to spend less time chasing after people anyway. 

She’s been here for a couple days staking out this particular mark, so they have to get her packed and checked out of her hotel. They make arrangements with said hotel to leave her car there until Killian and David can come down to get it, and then Killian is bundling her into the passenger side of his vehicle, easing them onto the highway and turning down the volume when Emma inevitably caves and falls asleep after the first five miles.

She doesn’t wake again until they’re pulling up in front of her apartment building. Then it’s a delicate operation getting her out of the truck and into her apartment. The sprain in her wrist isn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Maybe a little more pressure from the fall and she’d be dealing with a fracture instead, but it certainly doesn’t tickle right now. It’s still easy enough to get changed on her own and settled into the bed, accepting the glass of water that Killian hands her after he knocks to make sure she’s decent.

“Try to rest. I’m going to grab us some dinner and come back in a bit, okay?”

Emma’s too tired to even speak, so she nods, nesting down into her bed and letting her body finally rest.

-x-

It’s only after he knows she’s fast asleep that Killian leaves, carefully locking the apartment door behind him when he goes. He heads to the sheriff’s station first, as he knows David needs to hear in person that his adopted “little” sister got the shite kicked out of her at work today.

Getting the call from Emma was terrifying; he probably would’ve panicked if he’d gotten the call about anyone, but with Emma it’s… different. He’s been in love with her for so long now that he can’t even recall when or how it happened. But he’s the person she calls when she’s in trouble, and a devoted best friend. He can’t mess any of that up with feelings that she doesn’t reciprocate.

“Killian? What are you doing out of work so early? I thought you guys were shutting down the spare docks for the season.”

“We were. But I got called away on an emergency so I left this morning before lunch.

“What kind of emergency?” David asks, his voice and face going deadly serious. There are only so many people in this town Killian knows, and David knows which one he would drop everything for without hesitation.

“Don’t worry, it’s all okay,” Killian says first. “Emma called from Portland because she took a bit of a spill. Nothing is broken, but she’s a little bruised.”

Immediately, Killian can see David popping into “overprotective brother” mode and understands that this is exactly why Killian was called to tend to Emma instead of him.

“How bruised?”

“It’s just a sprained wrist and she almost dislocated a rib. Nothing but some standard pain killers involved. She’s already back home and resting. You and I will have to drive down to Portland this weekend and retrieve her vehicle.”

The other man relaxes, even if just slightly, at hearing that nothing is broken and that she’s already home. Killian’s been around long enough that he knows exactly how this all goes.

“I was hoping, however, to enlist your lovely wife to help keep an eye on her. She’s going to have to refrain from work for a little bit but we both know Emma loves to push herself even when she should be resting.”

“Of course. She’s going to do what she wants, in the end, but maybe we can at least keep her entertained enough that she won’t feel the need to go out looking for trouble.”

He’s always thankful for David. Not only is he a friend to Killian, but he’s on similar wavelengths when it comes to how Emma works. They know she’s a woman of her own mind, and that she is not to be directed, so they work to find healthy alternatives.

For all the years that Emma has been in his life, she’s been chasing bail skips. He’s seen it hurt her but he’s also seen how much of a thrill she gets from a victory. It probably feels like vengeance against Neal every time she catches a scumbag that should be in jail, and so he’s happy to support her ventures. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare the daylights out of him when she gets injured, though.

One thing is for sure, he will always stand by her decisions, will stand beside her in every way he can, but he’s still allowed to wish she’d take the position David offered her as a deputy for their sleepy little town. He understands why she can’t, but it doesn’t stop him from hoping sometimes.

-x-

When Emma wakes up, it’s to a much darker apartment, but she can smell food. That’s what draws her slowly from her bedroom, taking her time and being extremely cautious with her left side.

She loves her job. She wishes it wouldn’t lead to moments like this, but this is the exception and definitely not the rule. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about joining the simple life sometimes.

A while ago, David offered her a position at the station as a deputy. She said “no” without even really thinking about it, but over the last couple months she’s been thinking more and more about what it would mean to take it.

She wouldn’t likely get beaten up anymore, that’s for sure. Storybrooke is more about minor traffic violations, and a yearly dispute, usually between two of the miners that happen to be brothers, and only after they’ve been drinking after work. They deal with petty squabbles and neighborly disagreements, but they’re so simple and easy to solve, and at the end of the day, everyone still loves each other in this town.

Having a job at the station would mean seeing her brother more often, and staying in town. It would mean a dedicated health care plan and like, a 401k. It would pay the bills a little more predictably than her current adventures. And while that’s all really boring stuff at this point, it would feel good not to worry about those things as much as she does right now.

And so she considers telling Killian she’s been thinking about it again. Been thinking about a lot of things, really, but she can’t tell him – not when he looks so devastatingly handsome standing in her kitchen plating up whatever’s been heating in her oven while she’s been sleeping. Because there’s always the chance he doesn’t feel the same way, and taking a job at the station means she can’t just leave if it all goes to shit.

“You’re awake!”

Her attention is brought back to the man in her apartment and Emma shakes off the rest of her thoughts. This right here, having time with her friend, is what matters more than anything.

They settle in and eat dinner, watching a movie when they’re done and everything has been cleaned up (by Killian, of course, because he wouldn’t let her lift a finger). She falls asleep on his shoulder less than halfway through, succumbing to the chaos of the day earlier than she meant to.

When she wakes again, it’s morning, and she’s in her bed.

There’s a note on the fridge telling her to take it easy, and she scoffs at it as she goes to brew coffee. It’s not like she had anything planned for the day, work or otherwise.

She’s not sure if he made the plans for her or if Elsa decided on her own, but it’s just after noon when there’s a knock on her door and the blonde is standing there with a deck of cards and a tray of to-go hot chocolates.

“Did he put you up to this?”

“Nope. Told me what happened but I decided to do this all on my own. Besides, you probably didn’t have plans today anyway.”

Her words are an echo of her previous thoughts, so she shrugs a little and opens the door wide to let Elsa in.

“I was surprised you didn’t call David,” Elsa says after they’re settled in around her coffee table, lounging on cushions and blankets, looking like they’ve nested for the remainder of the winter.

“He would’ve flipped out. And Snow would’ve mothered me to death. Killian panicked, but he at least takes care of me the way I need him to.” She’s staring at the cards in her hand, trying to decide if it’s worth it to keep looking for an ace or to start discarding them from her hand.

Elsa hums at that, and Emma gives her a look. “What’s that noise for?”

“Oh, you know.”

When her friend doesn’t continue, Emma stares harder.

“Oh, come on, Emma. What was it you said to me once about knowing me before you knew me?”

Emma takes her time responding, shuffling her cards and finally discarding the five of diamonds instead of the ace. “I said I knew you because I knew myself. We were both loners, looking out for ourselves, and trying not to hurt anyone else along the way.”

“Exactly. That’s the kind of bond we had when we were still a pinch hostile towards each other when I moved here, and now we’re friends. So imagine how much more I know about you now, and how much you’re avoiding the elephant in the room.”

She stares at Elsa, trying to gauge exactly what she’s talking about. She knows it’s in reference to Killian, but Emma works so hard to keep that secret buried deep. There’s no way Elsa could know how she feels, is there?

“When are you going to tell him how you feel?” Elsa asks, eliminating all questions about what thinly veiled conversation they’re having.

“Never.”

“Emma.”

“He can’t know.”

“Why not?”

“Because he doesn’t need this baggage hanging around him when I could run at any moment.” She blurts it out, surprising even herself with the intensity of the words.

Elsa puts her cards down, completely abandoning the game at hand and reaches over for Emma.

“Has it ever occurred to you that if you ran, he would follow you?”

“I’m not sure he would, actually.”

“That man would follow you to the ends of the earth, or time, if he had to. But if you need proof, please look at the guy that left work in the middle of the day to drive to Portland to pick you up and take care of you because he knows the right way to take care of you. Your words.”

Her little speech is topped off with a raise of one of her perfect eyebrows.

“I’m not saying you need to confess your feelings right now,” she adds, grabbing the cards from Emma’s hand and gathering them all to re-deal. “But think about it. Also you should’ve discarded the ace. I’m doing you a favor.”

Emma shakes her head as she motions for Elsa to continue, taking a moment to sip from her hot chocolate and consider her options. She sets herself a deadline of January 1. Maybe by then she can make up her mind what to do or not do.

-x-

On Saturday, early in the morning, Killian pulls up outside of Emma’s apartment. David is dropping off Snow to spend time with her while they go down to Portland to get Emma’s Bug. 

But before they can get to that part of the plan, they have to make it there first.

Killian and David actually have a fantastic relationship. They bonded over having pains in the ass for brothers, and their friendship with Emma (even if David’s goes a little deeper than his own – being siblings by legal decree does mean a little more than “best friend” after all). But currently, you’d think they were strangers with the way the silence sits heavy between them in David’s SUV.

He tries to think of things to talk about, but nothing comes to mind but how to tell his very good friend that he’s in love with Emma. That’s not a conversation for a car trip where he literally cannot escape if the other man tries to aim his side of the vehicle at a tree.

Finally, he settles on something more mundane, asking what David got Snow for Christmas, and if he had any good ideas for what to get Emma this year.

That, of course, derails the conversation pretty quickly.

“You could get her your honesty about how you feel about her,” David suggests, still driving in the same calm and collected manner he has been the whole time.

“Pardon?’

“You heard me. I think she’s the only person in Storybrooke that doesn’t know how you feel.”

“Aye, well, all the more reason to not tell her. I don’t need to scare her off.”

“Why would that scare her off?” David asks, glancing over at Killian to see the tired look on his face.

“I know Emma. I know how she thinks. And she’s sworn off love for so long that I feel if I admitted my attractions that she would split as soon as she could,” he says in response.

“You never know until you try,” comes the answer to his statement, but Killian isn’t convinced.

“Does she need a new blanket for the living room, do you think?”

“You two are more alike than you think,” is David’s final comment before letting Killian successfully change the subject without returning to it again.

When they get to Portland, Killian stops in at the front desk to let him know he’s back to gather Emma’s car, making sure everything is still squared away with that before he goes out and gives David a thumbs up. The other man still waits until he sees that the Bug is successfully running, and then they both head back on the road to get home.

Killian has to pull into a gas station not long after they start driving, though, after a glance at the gauges tells him that Emma never bothered to fill up after she got here. He checks over the contents of the car quickly, making sure nothing was disturbed as he finds that the passenger door was also unlocked this whole time.

One item in particular draws him up short, however, when he reads the heading and discovers it to be an apartment application for a building not far from the hotel he just left.

When was she planning on telling anyone she was interested in moving down here? By the looks of it, she got two-thirds through the application before it was left on her passenger seat.

His heart sinks looking it over, where she’s even filled out potential move-in dates for right after the holidays are over. He can’t imagine Emma living outside of Storybrooke. She was there when he moved to the US and she’s been there for him ever since, and he never imagined she would leave. Apparently, though, she had other plans that she wasn’t sharing.

Maybe he should invest in some packing materials for Christmas in order to help her, if that’s what she wishes to do.

With every mile he drives closer to home, the more his heart aches. Should he tell her he found the application? Should he try to convince her to stay? No – he’s always claimed he would support her in anything and everything she ever did, and this change in location will be no different.

Instead, what Killian decides to do by the time he gets back, is bury the knowledge of what he’s found. If Emma wants to move, she will tell him - tell all of them - in her own time. 

By the time he makes it back to Storybrooke, he’s worked his own mind into a frenzy. All he wants to do is drop off the keys and get back home. But when he gets to Emma’s door, he can smell the food first, and hear the laughter of their friends beyond the wood. Emma must sense his arrival because she whips open the door right as he’s about to knock.

“We thought you got lost!” she says, smiling wide and yanking on his sleeve to pull him inside. “We made dinner. Come join us.”

Despite his internal turmoil, Killian obliges, kicking off his shoes by the door and hanging his coat where it always hangs. He heads to the kitchen table when he’s settled, doing his best to put on a happy mask and enjoy the time with his loved ones. 

He sets himself into the easy rhythm of traditions, passing the food in the order they always choose, and stacking the plates in a particular way when everyone is done. 

As a group, they initiate cleanup. Emma and Killian fall to their respective roles of washing and drying the plates, while David packs up the food and stores the leftovers away. He and Snow leave shortly after with their own container of food, leaving Emma and Killian by themselves as they finish the dishes. 

A million times, he tells himself to stay quiet, but that doesn’t stop him from blurting it out after five minutes. “So, the Portland Arms is a nice building.”

“It… you saw the application.”

“It was on the seat of your vehicle, so yes, I saw the application,” he says with much more attitude than he meant to. 

“It’s just…”

“Just what, love? Just a couple hours away? Just a change of scenery and nothing else will change?”

“I was going to say ‘just an application’ but you’re right with both of those, too.”

Killian sighs, deflating a bit as he places the last dry dinner plate on the stack. “I’m sorry, Swan, it’s just the thought of you leaving is a lot to take in. But if it’s truly what you want, then just let me know what you need me to do and I’ll be happy to help.”

“Hold your horses,” she tells him, patting him on the arm when her hands are dry. “I’m not going anywhere yet. Like I said, it’s just an application. I don’t know if I want to move in the middle of winter so it may be a while.”

That her obstacle is the middle of winter rather than anything else tells him a lot about her feelings on the matter, so he lets it drop. 

-x-

It feels like there’s something brewing that Emma can’t control. She’s not sure what exactly, but ever since they went down to get her car and Killian found that stupid application that she left on her seat, there’s been some underlying tension that they can’t seem to shake. He’s been moody, but also pretending he isn’t. She’s not sure why she didn’t tell him the truth, but it’s her own damn business, anyway! 

On Christmas Eve, he comes over as he always does in order to decorate her tree. Normally, Emma is fully immersed in the process of picking out, cutting down, and hauling in of her tree. This year, she had to skip the second and third parts of that, only having a hand in picking out the one she wanted while David and Killian were the ones to bring it in. It’s been in the stand for a couple days now just waiting for the trimming part, but they always wait until the day before to do that together. 

While David and Snow are busy decorating theirs and getting their little family home ready for the holiday, Killian comes to her apartment. He doesn’t put up a tree of his own because he spends so much of his time at Emma’s place. 

He doesn’t do a lot of holiday decorating for that same reason, and Emma gets why he might be upset with the idea of her moving to Portland because all of his traditions that have been formed over the years will be moving with her. 

Clearly, she didn’t consider how hard he might take it if she actually moved away. 

But as she carefully sits there unwrapping and adding ornaments to the tree, she can’t imagine doing this without him. They have assigned parts in this play: they pick the tree together, and Killian puts on the lights while she fetches the skirt and the ornaments, then he’s in charge of the garland and Emma tops the whole thing with the star. 

This year they had to make some concessions to make sure Emma doesn’t hurt herself, but she’s still taking care of the ornaments while Killian struggles to get the beaded garland untangled. He’s muttering to himself, saying how he meant to wrap them around something last year when they packed it all up, but it’s all a diatribe to himself and she just listens and tries her best not to laugh. 

He’s helpless. Adorable and helpless. And she doesn’t really realize what she’s doing until she’s already moving towards him - the small swan ornament she’d been holding is abandoned back in the box and she’s grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him towards her.

There’s a look of shock on his face as she tugs him down, and then she’s not thinking about how there was no warning leading up to this but how right it feels to be kissing him. Killian’s surprise wears off quickly and then he’s kissing her back, wrapping his arms around her waist. She can feel the beads of the garland digging into her side where he clearly didn’t drop the strand but she doesn’t care, especially when her hand buries into his hair and she’s not sure she ever wants to surface from this again. 

He sighs out her name as they break apart at one point, and that’s when reality comes crashing down on her. What is she doing? And what is he doing kissing her back like that?

“I’m - I’m sorry. I’ll be right back,” Emma stutters out, making a dash for the bathroom. She takes her time, pressing a cool washcloth to her face and running the faucet for far too long before she exits again. 

When she comes back, the living room is empty. The garland is neatly strung around the tree, but the coat rack reveals no extras and it’s clear that he’s made a swift exit while she tried to collect herself. 

There’s a note by the tree, hastily scrawled but still more beautiful than most handwriting she’s ever seen. In it, Killian explains that he’s had a rather long day and he’s headed home to get some sleep, but that he’ll see her in the morning when they all exchange gifts. With a sigh, she turns back to her ornaments, adding the last few she had left before.

It takes her that long to realize that Killian has already added the star to the top of the tree, probably foreseeing that she can’t stretch like that on her own right now. She doesn’t even plug it in to see it all completed, instead flipping off the rest of the lights and making sure the door is locked before going to bed.

She knows why she kissed Killian - she wanted to. She wanted… wants him. She just doesn’t know why he kissed her back like a man on a mission and then bolted while she tried to make heads and tails of the situation. 

Her dreams are fraught with weird scenarios, one of which has her tangled in strands of lights and garland, trapped in a Christmas prison. She calls out for help repeatedly, but never gets an answer. Then she calls out Killian’s name and she can immediately hear a response for her to hold on, that he’s on his way.

In the morning, she wakes with that dream fresh in her mind and her heart still aches a little at the message. In all situations, great and small, she knows without a doubt that Killian will be there to help her. So what’s holding her back from telling him how she feels? 

The whole day feels different. Killian is usually the first one at her door in the morning but he���s not there when David and Snow show up. They’re the ones helping Emma put together brunch, just waiting for the oven timer to ding when Killian finally walks through the door looking like he slept about as roughly as Emma did. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he tells her as she helps him out of his coat. “Had to take care of some things at home.”

It’s a lie. She’s not sure she’s ever heard him lie to her this blatantly before. He’s lied to her about small things before, but this is the first time she’s heard him outright lie this bad since they drove down to Boston one summer and he claimed he wasn’t lost. When they ended up in New Hampshire, he finally admitted his wrongdoing. 

But when she looks a little harder at him, he averts his eyes, moving instead to remove his boots and wander over to where Snow and David have already made themselves comfortable in the living room. 

That’s the way it is all through brunch and the cleanup from their meal, and even most of the way through presents. He only really looks at her again when he thanks her for his gift. His eyes say volumes about how he’s feeling, so while the words were quiet, he’s practically screaming his gratitude in looks alone. 

When she opens the gift from him, her heart almost stops. Nestled in the small box is a swan pendant, vastly different than the last one she owned when she was younger, and already holding a lot more meaning than the little keychain some asshole once lifted from a gas station for her. She kept the old pendant for the longest time as a reminder not to trust anyone. It was Killian that helped her finally get rid of that necklace, patiently sitting with her as she took her time, made peace with all the bad memories, and then chucked it into the ocean from the boat he’d taken her out on that day.

“I hoped it would have slightly better memories than the last one,” Killian says, and she didn’t even notice him move closer until she realizes how near his voice is. “May I?”

She nods, watching in silence as he lifts the necklace from the box, taking his time to grasp the clasp between his fingers and pinching it open while holding the other side with his prosthetic. She holds her hair up and out of the way as he latches the necklace behind her, his fingers lingering just a bit before he abruptly stands. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve some work to attend to,” he says, looking regretfully at Emma before he heads for the door. He makes sure to gather his gifts, thanking David and Snow before slipping from the apartment as quickly as he showed up. 

It takes some acting, but she plays off his departure as nothing major. It’s clear he’s never mentioned the apartment application to David and Snow or else one of them would’ve blurted out an objection already. So she plays along and smiles through the rest of their time together. 

Just after they eat dinner, Snow excuses herself. “I’m going home for a moment, and I’ll be back with more cookies,” she tells them. 

Another lie, Emma can tell, but she lets her friend go, realizing pretty quickly this is a case of Divide and Conquer between the married couple. 

“I’m going to make you more hot chocolate. And when it’s done, we’re going to have a talk,” David says when the door has shut behind his wife, confirming her suspicions. 

Emma bites back the smile the best she can and follows him into the kitchen.

-x-

It’s snowing and cold but Killian doesn’t really notice any of it. His hand is shoved into his pocket and his prosthetic is resting on the wooden railing overlooking the docks. 

“I would be lost without you,” he repeats to himself. It’s the inscription she put on the inside of the compass, a beautiful rosewood piece that he would normally be so excited to display in his home until it was time to bring his own boat out of winter storage. 

Now, after everything that’s happened the last couple weeks, he can’t tell its intended meaning. She’s talking about moving, and then she kisses him, and then runs away, and then gives him this particular gift with this particular message? 

He watches his breath fog out in front of him, noticing that even that looks sad and aggravated.

“Thought I might find you out here,” comes a voice from behind him.  He turns to find Snow standing there, bundled against the cold and holding a hot mug that she hands to him.

The tea is one of his favorites, and he sighs in the comfort of the gesture.

“You two have been keeping secrets from us,” Snow says. “You don’t need to tell me everything, since I’m sure it means more to you and Emma than it does to me or David. There’s some things that I do know. It’s that you don’t get a happy ending without working for it, and that everyone deserves love. I can tell you have feelings for Emma that go beyond best friends. And though she’d never admit it, I’m pretty sure Emma feels the same way.”

“You’d get along with my brother,” Killian says, managing a smile. It doesn’t last, though. “And I don’t know if she truly does.”

“You won’t know until you talk to her.” Snow reaches out and clasps his arm. “Look, Emma has waited a long time for someone to come into her life that she trusts enough to give her heart to. And I think she so badly wants it to be you, but she’s too scared to make a move without knowing for sure how you feel.”

It’s sound advice, to maybe even make things a little more obvious to her. Handing her a necklace doesn’t explain his reasoning behind it - that he not only bought it because he thought of the way she’d smile when she saw it, but also because she deserves to replace every last memory from the last man she trusted that broke her heart. 

Snow shivers, bringing him back to the present and he’s finally aware of the snow falling heavier now than it was before. “It’s cold out here. Go home,” she tells him. “And Merry Christmas!” With a quick peck on his cheek, Snow turns and walks up the path back towards where she can see David waiting in his truck to pick her up. 

He turns back towards the water, staring out at the darkness beyond his vision. 

His friend is right. He needs to tell Emma how he feels, and he needs to do it before it’s too late. Liam always tells him that a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets. With one more look out to the water, he turns to head back to Emma’s apartment, but she’s already there.

She’s a couple meters away, shivering slightly despite her warm weather gear, and it’s only once Killian turns that she seems to come back to herself. 

“What are you doing out here, love? It’s freezing.”

“Says the man out here without a scarf or a glove or a hat?”

“I wasn’t really planning on staying out long. It just sort of… happened.” 

“Killian.”

“No wait, there’s something I need to say before we go any further.” He braces himself quickly, moving towards her slowly as he starts to speak. “When I met you, I was a broken man. I'd lost what I thought was the love of my life. After that first Christmas I spent with you, I felt like maybe my heart could move on one day. You invited me to join your family and your traditions, and for the first time in a long time I felt that hope that I'd find love again. And by the next Christmas, I wanted to find that love with you.”

He stops when he’s close enough to see the way the snowflakes catch on her eyelashes, and the way she keeps brushing them out of her hair. 

“I was always afraid to say anything for fear that you’d go running from me, since I’d heard all the stories you’d told me about the men you’d been with. I figured if you kept repeating ‘I’m never dating again’ enough in my presence that I should probably heed that warning.”

Emma chuckles under her breath at that, inching her way closer to him as he does the same to her. 

“Snow told me you’ve waited a long time to find a man to give your heart to. I’m truly hoping if you’d be lost without me that it means I may be the one you’re ready to try again with?”

“I know the engraving was cheesy but it fits too well, and it’s absolutely true. I would be lost without you.” The words come out quietly, and his breath catches in his throat as her fingers find the pirate’s luck necklace she bought him a few years ago. “I know I didn’t make it easy for you to tell me the truth, but I want you to know I feel the same way. What do you say, should we make this official? Kiss again and not have either of us go running for the hills afterward?” She means for it to lighten the mood, but he can’t help but be perfectly honest with his next words. 

“Your heart’s desire, Swan. That’s all I want.”

Her responding smile is bright and she leans forward just as he does. For a moment, all they do is touch their foreheads together, savoring this moment and breathing the other in - this closeness feels different than all the other times in their shared lives. When her fingers link with his, that’s when Killian moves again, angling his head and pressing his lips to hers. 

This time is sweeter, with much more meaning behind it.

“Does this mean you aren’t moving to Portland?”

“Killian. I was never moving to Portland. My skip worked in the housing office at that building and I needed the application as a cover to get to him.”

“And you couldn’t have just told me that when I brought it up?”

“I got defensive! It’s a knee-jerk reaction.”

“You got the ‘jerk’ part right, at least.”

She points a finger at him, a wordless warning that he’s been on the receiving end of multiple times. 

“Let’s go home,” she tells him, smiling as he lifts one of her gloved hands to press his lips against it. 

It’s later when she kisses him goodnight when she tells him she took the job at the station, and he feels like this may be the best Christmas he’s ever had. 

-x-

The next Christmas, the box she unwraps is engraved, and the contents inside of it make her tear up. 

“Where you lead,” he whispers, “will you let me be by your side?”

Her response of ‘yes’ is quickly lost in the way that they kiss, and they inform David and Snow to make it Christmas dinner instead of brunch, just so they have time to get their celebrating out of the way before they tell everyone else.

The End!

[sariasprincy-writes]

Hollow Point 36

One // Two // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight // Nine // Ten // Eleven // Twelve // Thirteen // Fourteen // Fifteen // Sixteen // Seventeen // Eighteen // Nineteen // Twenty // Twenty-One // Twenty-Two // Twenty-Three // Twenty-Four // Twenty-Five // Twenty-Six // Twenty-Seven // Twenty-Eight // Twenty-Nine // Thirty // Thirty-One // Thirty-Two // Thirty-Three // Thirty-Four // Thirty-Five // Thirty-Six (here) 

Chapter Thirty-Six At the End of All Things

The first time Sakura awoke, everything was hazy. Like she was in a thick fog, her head filled with clouds. There were voices just beyond and a beeping nearby that seemed to reverberate through her skull. Bright lights shined in her eyes, but she couldn’t find the strength to shield her vision from it. Then she faded out again.

The next time Sakura opened her eyes, her surroundings were much clearer. She was still groggy, her dreams and reality dancing on the same line until she didn’t know what was real and what was her imagination. It took her a few minutes to get her bearings, but when she finally blinked into focus, she instantly recognized the hospital room.

Like a knee-jerk reaction, adrenaline filled Sakura’s veins as she recalled brief flashes of the port. But one glance down at her hands and she saw they were free of handcuffs. She hadn’t been caught by the CIA.

What did catch her notice was she was no longer wearing a Kevlar vest. Instead, she had been changed into a standard hospital gown. There was a sheet tucked around her middle to keep her legs warm and an IV inserted into her arm. It was connected to a bag with a clear liquid inside, likely just fluids. And perhaps pain killers, she realized after a sharp ache lanced through her shoulder when she tried to move her arm.

Pulling back the collar of her gown, Sakura found the left side of her upper body was wrapped in bandages. Post-surgery. At least someone had removed the bullet. Though, she would need to get out of the hospital soon before the police were called and she was questioned. If they hadn’t been called already.

That’s when Sakura realized she was alone. Where was Kakashi?

Through the clear, sliding doors, she could see the nurses’ station down the hall. There were two nurses there now, but they were busy with paperwork. She watched them until the television on the wall behind the desk caught her attention. It was playing the morning news.

From her distance, she couldn’t read the captions, but the channel was showing a helicopter view of the warehouse in Newark. It was still dark, just before dawn, the shipping yard lit up by a handful of overhead spotlights as red and blue police lights flashed. The video was at least a few hours old. Just outside the hospital window, the sun was already peeking above the horizon.

In that moment, Sakura remembered Itachi. Her heartrate and blood pressure spiked as she recalled the blood that had been gathering around him while she had been forced to watch on, unable to help. She worried what had become of him, where he was now.

Pushing herself up in bed, Sakura searched the room for her personal items, specifically her phone. She could call Kakashi or Shikamaru. It would be the fastest way to learn if there had been any casualties in the CIA’s raid.

However, before Sakura could move to get out of bed, the door to her room slid open. Automatically she glanced towards the sound, only to freeze as she recognized the person in the doorway.

Tsunade.

Her adopted mother was exactly how Sakura remembered her. She had long, blonde hair she had pulled back away from her face with the exception of a few strands that had escaped to frame her intelligent, hazel eyes. Tsunade was approaching sixty now, but her youthful face didn’t look a day over fifty. She exuded authority and professionalism in her white doctor’s coat, and in that instant, Sakura suddenly knew exactly where she was. Tsunade’s hospital.

Her adopted mother didn’t immediately speak as she stepped into the room flanked by two younger doctors, likely interns, but her expression was stern and clear: Sakura was to say nothing.

“I see you are finally awake,” Tsunade said, her voice calm and professional. As if they were complete strangers. “Are you in any pain, Ms….?”

“Johnson,” Sakura replied after a small hesitation. “Sarah Johnson.” The most vague American name she could think of in that moment.

Tsunade glanced at one of her interns, ensuring the young male doctor wrote the name down in her file before she returned her attention to Sakura. “How’s your pain now?”

“Manageable,” Sakura replied on autopilot. She was still stunned to see her adopted mother before her so suddenly after these last few years of radio silence. Sakura couldn’t tear her eyes away.

As if Tsunade was simply her surgeon, she stepped forward and began going through a normal examination of Sakura’s injury, post-surgery. “You had some nasty shrapnel to your shoulder, but I was able to successfully remove all of it. The man who brought you in said you were hit by debris from a car accident across the street. Unfortunate place and time.”

Sakura wondered what the actual chances of that happening were. It was probably the first thing Kakashi had thought of when the ER nurses had asked what happened. Sakura knew Tsunade knew it was a lie too. Her adopted mother was smart enough to know a fragmented bullet when she saw one, but she was lying to keep Sakura’s cover. Both their covers. It was a lie to keep the police at bay.

“Do you know where he is now?” Sakura asked.

“I believe getting coffee. He should return shortly,” Tsunade answered, examining the line in her IV for kinks. “The damage to your shoulder was fortunately minimal, but it will take several weeks to heal and some months of physical therapy to regain full use.”

Tsunade turned away from her then, continuing her examination as she spoke to the interns, asking them questions and teaching them as she went along. All the while, Sakura kept her gaze on her, as if afraid if she even so much as blinked too long, Tsunade would vanish right before her eyes.

After a few minutes that seemed to stretch on for hours, the interns finally left. The room lapsed into silence as Tsunade scribbled notes down into her chart.

Eventually, Tsunade closed Sakura’s chart. She capped her pen and slipped it into the front pocket of her coat before she finally met Sakura’s gaze. “I’ve kept your gunshot wound quiet, but someone will recognize the injury soon. You need to leave before the police are called.”

Sakura barely heard her. “Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you in over three years.”

“You had your mission,” Tsunade replied, her hazel eyes unaffected. “The rest was for you to finish.”

“And you didn’t think I might need support to do that?” Sakura asked, her confusion evident. “I’ve been calling you. For months now. Why didn’t you answer?”

“I taught you everything. I trained you to the best of my abilities. There was nothing more I could have done.”

Sakura let out a laugh that was more incredulous and exasperated than humorous. “You could have been there.”

“You were always meant to complete your mission alone.”

“Yes, but-”

“Enough, Sakura,” Tsunade interrupted. “We’re finished here.”

Her cold tone startled Sakura. She gave pause as Tsunade simply stared at her as if Sakura was nothing more than a boring piece of art. Slowly, one-by-one, the pieces began clicking into place. Cold dread filled Sakura as it dawned on her that she had put herself, Kakashi, Ino, Itachi in danger for a woman who saw her as nothing but a means to an end.

“You told Hashirama that you wanted a daughter, but he didn’t give me to you because you couldn’t have children,” Sakura said, her voice accusatory but calm compared to the raging storm building within her. “You wanted someone to train. Someone to take care of Hashirama because you couldn’t do it yourself. Not without getting caught.”

Tsunade’s face might as well have been carved from stone. “You did as directed. You completed your orders. You are released.”

Those words were like a slap across the face, but Sakura wasn’t given the chance to reply when the door to the room slid open again. It was Kakashi. He looked relieved to see her alert and conscious before he sensed the tension emanating from her. Concern briefly flickered behind his eyes before his gaze shifted to Tsunade.

She barely acknowledged him. Merely stepped towards the bed to mute the alarms on Sakura’s monitor before she slipped the IV out of her arm. “Don’t allow the nurses to see you when you leave,” Tsunade told her.

Then she was gone. Out the door and out of Sakura’s life. Perhaps forever.

Sakura could only sit there, her mouth slack and her eyes unfocused as she tried to process what had just happened. How everything she had believed her entire life could have shredded right before her eyes. It felt surreal, like a dream she couldn’t escape from.

White, hot anger flooded her heart and filled her veins like lightning. Betrayal stung like acid in her chest. She wanted to punch something, shoot something. Her fingers itched to wrap around the grip of a gun. She wanted to burn New York City to the ground.

Then, like a bubble, all that rage popped until she was left with nothing but a sinking sadness that buried deeper and deeper into her soul. It wrapped around her like a blanket, tumbling so deep she didn’t know if the feeling would ever leave her.

All those memories of her childhood burned bright in her mind’s eye. The smile on Tsunade’s face when she had brought Sakura home for the first time, her words of encouragement when Sakura failed and the pride in Tsunade’s eyes when she had succeeded. Grief sunk into Sakura’s chest like a heavy stone as she realized it had all been a lie. Tsunade had groomed Sakura to love and adore her until Sakura would do anything for the woman who had rescued her.

Sakura was certain she would have sat there in that hospital room, stuck in that single moment for the rest of her life, had the faint echo of footsteps not broken through her thoughts. She blinked back to herself as Kakashi stopped beside her bed. He looked like he wanted to reach out, but thought better of it.

“You okay?” he asked.

Sakura opened her mouth but not even a breath escaped. She didn’t know if he meant physically or mentally, but it didn’t matter. They needed to leave.

“We should get out of here,” Sakura said instead, suddenly itching to be out from this cramped, suffocating room.

A ghost of a frown crossed his mouth, but then it was gone as he slipped the backpack off his shoulder she hadn’t realized he had been carrying until now. Inside were a change of her clothes. He steadied her as she slipped into her jeans and shirt, the latter task he had to help her with after she realized she couldn’t lift her arm more than a few inches without a great deal of pain. He hung her jacket over her shoulders, leaving her sleeves empty before he collected the rest of her things.

Then together, they slipped out of the hospital unnoticed.

xx

The pair drove in silence for some time. The hospital was over twenty miles out of New York City. Sakura didn’t ask why Kakashi had taken her specifically to Tsunade. Had Sakura gone anywhere else the police would have been called, she would have been questioned and it would have led to a series of headaches that were best avoided from the beginning.

In the quiet, her mind rolled like heavy, thunder clouds. She replayed her conversation over with Tsunade, that piping hot rage sitting in her stomach like boiling water. Only to give way as her last moments with Itachi filled her memory. The hurt and betrayal and heartbreak in his eyes. She wondered if he had felt like she did now. Learning he had been used, he had been played.

Her stomach twisted sharply. The question of his fate hung heavy on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t find the courage to ask, afraid of the answer. Instead, she asked another burning question.

“What happened? After I was shot.”

Kakashi didn’t glance at her as he took the juncture to the next highway. “The CIA successfully took down Akatsuki. Everyone not killed was rounded up and arrested. Your plan to take out the major members of Akatsuki was a significant part in allowing the CIA to success. None of them showed with their men. Tobirama, Tenten and whoever else you called got them all. Everyone is dead but Kisame. He escaped to Egypt.”

Sakura hummed at that. “Call Temari. I want eyes on him.”

“You think he’ll retaliate against you for trying to kill him?”

“Not on American soil, but yes.”

Kakashi hummed his agreement. Then after a brief silence, he asked, “What about here? The Underground is in chaos. Now would be the perfect time to claim it.”

She fell quiet as she considered that. With Akatsuki in shambles and Hashirama dead, the Underground had a lot of availability now. It would be the perfect opportunity for her to take over the Eastern Coast. Which she was going to do. Just not in the way Kakashi was expecting.

“Tell Tobirama to take control of Hashirama’s assets. Tenten can have whatever territory is left over.”

Kakashi shot her a look of surprise. “Why would you do that?” When she replied with a meaningful glance, it dawned on him. “Because then they both owe you favors. You can control the Eastern Coast without having to manage it yourself.”

Sakura hummed her agreement.

“Then what will you do?” he asked.

Sakura thought about her next statement carefully. She thought about Tsunade’s parting words, feeling that painful betrayal again. “I want you to spread the word that Tsunade is dead.”

Kakashi glanced at her sharply until the tires bumped over the lane dividers on the highway. He jerked the wheel to straighten their course. “What? After all this, you’re giving everything up?”

She shook her head. “No, just her,” she said. Her voice was soft but she wasn’t able to completely keep the bitterness out of her voice. “From now on, I will be known as Sakura. I won’t give Tsunade the credit any longer.”

He peered in her direction again but said nothing as they continued their drive. The pain in Sakura’s shoulder was beginning to worsen as the drugs faded, but it paled in comparison to the ache in her chest, until she could no longer stand not knowing.

“Where’s Itachi?” she asked quietly.

A heavy silence passed before Kakashi answered, “He was taken to a hospital under the CIA’s protection. I spoke to my contacts there. He’s alive,” he said, causing hope to bloom in her chest. It died on his next words. “But he’s in a coma. He took a bullet to the stomach. They don’t know how well he’ll recover yet or if he’ll even…”

“Or if he’ll even wake up,” Sakura finished, feeling that hole in her heart slowly rip open little-by-little.

Kakashi peered at her, but she didn’t dare look at him. She couldn’t stand his pity at the moment. “I’m sorry, Sakura.”

“Don’t be,” she murmured. “This is my fault. I did this.”

They didn’t speak the rest of the way to Sakura’s apartment. Simply sat in silence as Kakashi steered them across the bridge and back into New York. Before them, the impressive skyline towered on the horizon, but Sakura didn’t see. She was numb to the world around her. Exhausted, both physically and mentally.

It was only once her door opened that Sakura realized they were parked in her underground garage. Kakashi helped her out of her seat before he adjusted her jacket around her shoulders to hide the bulky bandages, lest anyone should pass them.

Blindly, Sakura allowed Kakashi to lead her through the building until they reached her apartment. Kakashi unlocked the door and closed it behind them as Sakura kicked off her shoes. She said nothing as she made a beeline for her bed, letting her jacket drop somewhere on the floor before she slipped under the covers.

Kakashi was at her side a minute later with a spare bottle of prescription pain meds she kept in her medicine cabinet. She popped two in her mouth and greedily sucked down the bottle of water he handed her before she curled up on her uninjured side, her back to him. He simply pulled the covers around her.

“Can I get you anything else?” Kakashi murmured.

Sakura thought of Itachi, but the image of him lying in some government hospital unconscious and hooked up to life support stole her voice. Swallowing, she shook her head. “No.”

She vaguely heard him set something on her nightstand. A moment later, she realized it was her cell phone. “Call me if you need me.”

She said nothing in reply. Merely stared at the wall on the other side of her bed as she listened to Kakashi’s footsteps cross the room before the deadbolt slid back into place.

Sakura didn’t know how long she laid there. The meds took the worst of the bite out of her injury and exhaustion weighed on her like a physical weight, but her mind refused to rest. Her thoughts kept replaying the events at the warehouse. She wondered how she could have changed things, what she could have done differently, but the look on Itachi’s face wouldn’t leave her. It was burned into her mind.

What had she done?

Curling further into herself, Sakura opened her mouth to let out a heavy sigh. What escaped instead was a shuddering breath. And before she could stop it, a wave of emotion washed through her, picking her up and sweeping her out the sea before the currents pulled her under. Her anguish spilled out of her until it clogged her throat and made it near impossible to breathe, filling every corner of her empty apartment.

Or so she thought.

For from the living room, Kakashi said silently on the couch. He listened to each sob that echoed from the bedroom, until the sun was high and exhaustion finally overcame them both. It would be nearly sunrise before they would wake again.

xx

Three weeks later…

Sakura blew the steam off her coffee mug. She waited until it was cool enough not to burn her tongue before she finally took a sip and deemed the flavor to her liking.

Inside the coffeehouse, businessmen and women were hurrying in and out. The little shop was tucked between a large bank and a high rise of offices, making it a popular stop for those on their way into a meeting. A woman stopped beside Sakura and dumped in an unhealthy amount of cream and sugar before she quickly left, apparently running late for something.

With her shoulder still recovering, Sakura had to do most things one-handed. She set her to-go cup down on the counter before she snapped the lid over the top. Before leaving, she checked her phone.

There was a new message from Tenten. She was still on time to getting her shipments dropped off. Tobirama would be back in town tonight to update Sakura on the other shipments leaving Cairo. His plane was to land a few hours after sundown.

Satisfied, Sakura pocketed her phone again before she grabbed her coffee and made for the exit. A man in a nice business suit held the door for her, smiling something a little too friendly as he looked her purposely. Sakura was hardly fazed. She merely returned the smile before she slipped by without a word.

On the sidewalk, she paused to look for Kakashi’s car as she took a sip of her coffee. She didn’t know where Kakashi had gone in the morning rush, but she waited patiently. Ever since he had picked her up from the hospital, he had hardly left her side. He would be there soon.

Lowering her coffee cup, Sakura gazed about the downtown streets lazily. After a few minutes with no sight of Kakashi, she made to shuffle her coffee into her still-healing arm to pull out her phone when something caught her eye.

No, not something. Someone.

It was Shisui. He was standing across the busy street, leaning against the side of a sleek, black Lexus. She recognized it as Itachi’s. But it wasn’t the car that caught her notice. It was Shisui himself. He looked terrible. Absolutely haggard with dark circles under his eyes and his skin a little too pale, even for a New Yorker. He looked like he hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten in weeks.

And like a candle blowing out in the wind, the warmth left Sakura’s body. She knew what had happened.

They had pulled the plug on Itachi.

She couldn’t explain how she knew it from that single look from Shisui, but she was absolutely certain. Itachi was gone.

As if someone had pressed pause on the television, everything stilled. The people around them, the cars on the city streets. The entire world stopped and held its breath.

Then Shisui turned away and slipped into Itachi’s Lexus. Without a single word, he simply drove away, leaving Sakura alone on the busy sidewalk, the coffee in her cup tasting like mud and ash. The grey city seemed to become even dimmer, like all color had drained out of the world.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Sakura pushed herself to focus on her work, getting shipments ordered, organized and delivered. Her day was over before she realized it and she was forced to face her new reality.

She sent Kakashi away. He had been confused but he didn’t deny her request, and for the first time since she had been shot, Sakura was alone.

She sat in the kitchen chair she had pulled up to the window and sipped on tequila as she tried her best not to think about the shirt in the back of her closet – the one that smelled like Itachi – until suddenly, she realized she was drunk. Apparently, chain-drinking did that.

The urge to give in, to wrap herself up in the last bit of clothing that reminded her of his gentle kisses and tender touch, nearly overwhelmed her, and likely would have if her phone hadn’t abruptly pinged.

It was from Tobirama. He had landed.

Suddenly, Sakura had a far worse idea.

Less than an hour later, a taxi dropped Sakura off in Queens in front of a large house with tall, iron gates. The guard had let her in on-sight, allowing the driver to pull up the well-lit, circular drive to stop before the great mansion.

As Sakura stepped out of the cab, she admired the home. Tobirama had made a few modifications, including more lights that accentuated the stone work. It looked much classier than when Hashirama had lived there.

At the door, a butler greeted her and accepted her jacket. He made himself scarce when Tobirama appeared at the banister and descended the stairs. His hair was still damp from a shower, and he had changed into a grey sweater and a nice pair of cotton, white pants after his flight. Something comfortable but classy lest someone dropped in late. Someone like her.

“Sakura,” Tobirama greeted. His tone was welcoming but obviously curious. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight. Is everything alright?”

She had tried to fill the gaping hole in her chest with tequila, but she smiled nonetheless, hoping she appeared more sober than she felt. “Yes. I hope I’m not intruding.”

His confusion lingered, but he gestured for her to follow him anyway. He led her to the very den she had sat with Hashirama before. Only now it felt different. Less intimidating and more focused. Like an actual office should be.

Inside, a maid was dusting a tall painting of a beautiful forest with horses grazing in the middle. As soon as the worker saw them enter, she quickly stepped off her stool and excused herself, taking the folding steps with her.

Sakura didn’t pay her much mind. Instead she gazed at the painting as she briefly wondered what its significance was. It certainly hadn’t been there while Hashirama lived there, but the thought was fleeting. She turned away when she heard Tobirama pull out two crystal glasses before he poured a couple of fingers in each.

Only after they made themselves comfortable on the lush, leather couch across the room did he finally ask, “Are you really so keen to know how my trip to Egypt went?”

Frankly, Sakura couldn’t care less about Cairo at the moment, but for pretenses, she inclined her head.

They sipped their whiskey as Tobirama updated her. He informed her of Temari’s success in seamlessly taking over Akatsuki’s old territory and contacts, and Tobirama’s latest attempt to track down Madara’s whereabouts. Of course, it had led to another dead end like it had for the last several weeks.

“I know the bastard was there,” Tobirama told her, a small frown on his lips. “But he slipped out before I could track him down.”

“Do you suspect where he went?” she asked.

“Hong Kong.”

Sakura hummed in reply as she sipped more of her drink. The whiskey settled warmly in her stomach, but it did nothing to ease the cold in her chest.

“Once I get my shipments squared away here, I can go there and follow his trail-”

“No,” she shook her head, much to Tobirama’s surprise. “Let him stay there.”

His brows furrowed. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Madara has contacts there that neither of us have. If we go after him, he’ll have us killed on-sight,” she told him, briefly studying the amber liquid in her glass. “There’s one thing I’m certain of and it’s that Madara wants both of us dead; for what we did to Akatsuki and for what we did to Izuna. Let him come to us when he finally decides he can’t live in a world with us in it. For now, he can rot in his hole.”

She finished her statement by swallowing the rest of her drink in one large gulp. Then she stood to place the glass on the desk, out of the way.

“And in the meantime, what do we do?” Tobirama asked.

Sakura turned back around to face him upon his question. She didn’t reply as she eyed him, taking in his relaxed form as he lounged on the leather sofa. The hand grasping his whiskey rested on the arm of the couch while the other rested beside his thigh.

In this setting, he was more handsome than she could ever remember him being. Money looked good on him. And so did she, she decided.

“I’m sure we can think of something,” Sakura replied. Her hand skimmed up the front of her blouse until she found the top button. Then she popped it open.

Tobirama’s glass stilled halfway to his mouth as she approached him. Automatically his gaze was drawn to her cleavage as it was slowly exposed to his viewing. He swallowed thickly before he made a point of meeting her gaze.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice carefully controlled.

Sakura shot him a look as if he had asked the dumbest question in the world before she dropped her shirt to the floor and slipped into his lap. Even with only her lacy, wine-colored bra keeping her decent, his eyes never left hers. He stubbornly kept his hands by his sides.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Sakura countered smoothly.

Something akin to a scowl crossed his face. “I thought we had agreed this was a bad idea.”

Her hands settled on the firm muscles of his chest as her gaze briefly flickered down to his mouth before meeting his gaze once more. When she spoke, her voice had turned soft to something almost vulnerable. “Don’t you ever wish we could go back to the way we started? Before everything got so complicated.”

An unusually serious expression crossed Tobirama’s face. His gaze searched hers, as if wondering where they would be now if things between them hadn’t ended so abruptly. She didn’t know what he saw in her eyes – if he saw anything at all – but then he was downing the rest of his whiskey. He set the glass aside before he twisted a hand into her hair and forced her mouth to meet his.

There was nothing gentle about the way Tobirama held her. He secured an arm around her waist before he picked her up and laid her against the soft leather of the couch, careful of her still-healing shoulder. As soon as she was settled, he was on her again, his knee pressing into the space between her legs as he bit a path down her throat. A sharp gasp escaped her when he found a sensitive spot, but the noise was quickly muffled as he crushed his mouth against hers again.

His kiss felt like drowning. Like she was being pulled beneath the current, her head inches or perhaps miles below the surface. She didn’t know if it eased or just numbed the pain in her chest, but she had the fleeting thought that if it could distract her from her grief if only for a few minutes, then she would take everything she could.

Just as the world had taken everything from her.

tbc…

[blankdblank]

Help Me Rich Pt 3

@deepestfirefun​ Final part. :D

..

The comment wasn’t brought up about your post concerning a possible triangle with the lovable duo and your comments didn’t do anything to slow them down either. Up to your room you went to collapse giggling to yourself groggily after removing your shoes on your surprise trip home. Finally you could restock on your best clothes and get ready for your big night off you had been aching for. Dinner with one teddy bear had been achieved and now another would be stolen by surprise. Barely two hours into a nap you painfully were torn from it was like you blinked and you were back in the airport.

Changed to jeans and a baggy hoodie with your face covered you slept the majority of the lengthy flight and squinted your way to watch the landing through your window brushing your hair and hood back. The frigid wind outside was like a slap to the face and shaking your head you caught the train back to the station a few blocks from your house and flashed grins and brief waves to your neighbors who greeted you along the way. Inside however you groaned and hurried up to take a shower gasping and squeaking through removing the bandages and tape on your arms then stepped into the warm water to get ready for your surprise.

Maroon lace dress with sleeves just past your elbows fit you snugly and matched perfectly with your knee high heeled boots and thigh high tights to help keep you warm. Over that you pulled on your favorite vintage styled double breasted jacket in a deep red you buttoned and tied the sash on once your makeup and braided ponytail was finished off. Through the cold you walked the short distance to the subway to get out at the right stop to join the others headed exactly where you were. Smirking to yourself under the white lights of the Harold Pinter Theater you flashed your ticket and headed inside snapping pictures as others did of the posters with cast names on them on the way in.

You hated going to plays alone and right in the third row you sat eyeing the curtains closing off view of the stage seated quietly until the elderly woman seated beside you let out a hushed gasp and drew a grin from you starting on about how she and her grandkids loved to watch your trilogy. Up to the warning signals you chatted and had even signed a halfway faded receipt from her purse then turned your attentions to the stage feeling your nerves spike as you watched the curtains open on Richard and his cast mates’ adaptation of Uncle Vanya. It wasn’t the first night, buried into the first show of his second week you had managed to make it out and hoped that even in red you wouldn’t stand out and distract him.

.

Thunderous applause flooded through the room and to the edge of the stage the cast walked with Richard in the center focused entirely on a single person when the lights cut on again. Instantly his face lit up at the moment he saw you and chuckled to himself at your subtle try for a wave. Back as soon as he could he hurried to his dressing room after passing on a message to an aid and switched on his phone he called you on nipping at his lip, “Come on, have it on silent.”

Grinning to yourself you pulled the phone from your pocket and answered the call, “Hey there Handsome. Didn’t I just see you?”

To himself he chuckled then said, “We’re getting supper, Love.” Directions were given and following them while on the line you grinned to the aids allowing you back through authorized only entrances into the back halls with the dressing rooms in them. Outside the telling door you teased, “Richie, how could you let them misspell your name like that?”

His chuckle once he hung up came in the opening of his door and directly off the ground you were raised in a tight hug, contently luring a hum out of the grump you cuddled with right back, “Can’t have everything, can I?” On your feet again he shook his head beaming down at you, “How did you manage out here? You must not have slept.”

You shook your head and stepped inside allowing him to change while you spoke in the again closed room. Straight to his armchair you went and sat down crossing your legs at his pulling off his outer jacket to his final suit. “Slept on the plane. Either way, you were fantastic. Well worth the brooding no doubt. Everyone loved it I hear and the woman next to me fanned herself in your shirtless scene.”

Lowly he chuckled replying, “That is beyond the point of that scene.”

“You know this is Guy all over again. Richie you could coat yourself in grime and brood all you like but you are still the most lovable grump around. I do love that scarf though, where did they get it?”

Turning back to you shirtless with his own shirt in hand he said, “I’ll keep it for you when the show ends.” Easing it on his eyes scanned over you and his grin bled out widely again in an adoring gaze, “Three years,” he rumbled, “How the hell has it been three years?”

“I don’t know. But it isn’t fair. I am enjoying seeing you strip again in person.”

Teasingly he slowly undid his belt he slid off making you giggle luring a chuckle from him snapping him from his game to hastily change his pants, socks and secure those before adding the sneakers you had helped him pick out last time you were together hiding his favorite red socks. “How long are you in town?”

“Two days.”

Pursing a moment his lips puckered and he nodded, “What coincidence, tomorrow is my day off.”

“Don’t you have to be silent or something?”

“No, that’s the day off before double shows.”

Stage door exit had you off to the side waiting while he greeted his fans and signed playbills for a short time then turned with hand outstretched for yours, though that wasn’t enough for him as his arm shifted to lay around your waist keeping you against his side to tide him over in waiting for another hug. Dinner at his place was lovely and comfortably shoeless with you both crashing in his bed post black and white film wine tasting lazily cuddling under the covers.

Soundly you slept then with a day of showing you a few new spots in town along with catching a flick he had wanted to see with you he drove you back to your place. Up to the door from the drive you walked and he paused grumbling at the call he received. “I have to get this.”

You smirked at him, “Won’t take long.” You giggled out in his tight hug and warm press of a kiss to your forehead, another show of love he had bottled up over the years after all the time you had spent cuddled up in filming together on those lazy days off set. Stepping inside again he smirked answering the call from another friend taking him to sit on the half wall bordering one side of your front steps ignoring the camera men parked a few houses down as well as the chilly breeze.

Out again comfy in jeans with a sweater and jacket over sensible wedges to manage the height difference you came with simpler makeup on. Locking your door and easing back under the arm of your adorably cuddle starved best friend for the walk back to his car. All day it was more of the same, not caring about anything but being together and soaking in every minute picking right back up where you left off. Stolen kisses on cheeks and tight hugs one after the other melting into giggles melded around the film. And his drive back to yours post mini market trip so he could crash with you to have the morning with you until he drove you to the airport at noon post brunch and claimed the tightest hug and firmest kiss on your cheek yet. Proudly stating your love for each other in a joint wave goodbye as you were off again leaving him instantly slumping back into his car.

A glance at your unclaimed seat after turning the key had his brows inching up at the cd case on the cushion there with a note on the cover, ‘Anti Grump Tunes.’ Smirking instantly he lifted the case and opened it pulling out the disk he popped into the cd drive to hear the first of the cheerful songs you always sang along to on the radio while together. Turning up the song he set the closed case aside and he shifted gears to start the drive back home again where he carried the disk to continue enjoying it there relaxing more until his nap to be well rested for the show.

 *

With brows furrowed Tom’s gaze eased over the nonsense story that had popped up post dinner out with you on how in the poly relationship you seemingly had been found cheating on the both of them while Richard was cheating on his own partner in return. Apparently in a long standing serious relationship with Richard Armitage, a good friend of his friends who had pointed him onto the story sharing how ridiculous it all was knowing about you and your bond for years now. Over the phone he texted Henry, who had just been called about it post flight by his younger brother that had seen it on tv. “According to Martin she and Richard, they got along famously filming Berlin Station and have always been best friends since then.”

Henry wet his lips and replied seeing the latest bit about it popping up from your former costars from Berlin Station Rhys, Michelle, Keke on their social pages that you were best friends and all hadn’t seen each other in years. “They have a lot of common friends. She did mention a Richard at dinner.”

Cuddling pictures with all of you together were posted. And flurries of their shows of support for the pair of you came with stories of how deeply you both rooted in your friendships bringing up stories from costars from older films and shows. Including Benedict and the cast of the Hobbit trilogy, most had worked with the both of you before on various projects giving them plenty to share.

Tom, “I am certain they are blowing things out of proportion. Good friends or not I doubt she would try for a match with a man older than I am.”

Henry flatly replied, “Comforting,” inching an ice pack higher on his thigh from his dip back into riding lessons. “So Kal and my age are in my favor.”

Tom rolled his eyes, “Don’t make me call your Mum and tell her you’re being moody again.”

Henry sighed and said, “I think I pulled my groin.” Tom bit his lip to keep from laughing, “Riding lessons are grueling.”

“Yes, I can remember a few nasty falls myself.”

“It was from climbing onto the saddle. Yesterday was sword training and I guess I skimped on stretching. Final horse of the day and just this burn, damn it’s so inconvenient. Back to swords tomorrow.”

“Well, at least you can tear your arms and give your groin a rest.”

“Ha, ha.”

Tom chuckled, “It all comes from love.”

“Ya, I can feel the love.”

 *

“Holy shit,” you muttered reading your email notices on the stories posted and just about in tears in the chair beside the window of your hotel room you dialed Richard sniffling after having confirmed this was a window he would be free and not sleeping or recovering.

Warmly in a welcoming gravely tone his voice rang through, “Hello Love. I have my orange for the day, do you?” Your next sniffle as your lip quivered had him straightening up and asking protectively, “What’s wrong?”

“Did I ruin everything?” you croaked out parting his lips.

Instant anger flooded through him clenching in his chest that he couldn’t hold you through this, “Does this have anything to do with that trash the news has been spouting? I love you, and I don’t care what they put out about us.”

“But, your Snuggle Buddy,” you sniffled again wiping your cheek at a tear falling, “Those pictures-,”

“Listen to me, I love you. I love you and I don’t care what they published. What pictures they angled just right to build a matchstick house off of. My Snuggle Buddy loves you, our relationship is not something they are threatened by. Often they all but hurl my phone at me to call you when I get low. They understand you are part of my heart and an integral part of how I keep myself steady in all of this nonsense. I am not leaving you, we are not over, I don’t care what they say we’re family so please stop crying. I know you’re tired. You’ve had three lengthy flights and long events to sit through, please don’t let them worry you. If anything my Snuggle Buddy actually loved your visit.”

“Oh really?” You asked with another sniffle wiping your other cheek trying to perk up again.

“I was super romantic, even broke out the candles and everything. Put on a tux,”

“Ooh, that voice and a tux I bet they were jello.”

“They certainly were.” Wetting his lips he looked out his window asking, “I bet you have an amazing view, don’t you?”

“Well there’s a sunset, or a sliver of one behind that building blocking it,” making him smirk, “Just another blip in an airport hotel, I have a connecting flight in two hours from my stop on a talk show.”

“Ooh, bet you look fancy.”

Wryly you chuckled replying, “I have mascara down my cheeks and blush streaks no doubt.”

“And no less beautiful for it,”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m gonna wash my face so I don’t terrify my delivery guy.”

Richard chuckled, “Keep me on speaker, I have an hour left till I have my own press stop. I don’t want to hang up yet. Not until you’ve at least eaten.” Quietly and contently he listened while you scrubbed your face clean and muttered curses to the makeup you struggled to remove for several minutes until you successful grumble on your way back to bed with phone in hand only to stop when your food arrived with a knock on the door. All through the meal however he listened to your questions on what Henry might have been intending with the fancy dinner he was planning when you crossed paths again and tried to ease your worries however he could.

 .

Your giggles mingled with the laughs of the panel on the talk show you were sitting for as the next question was pulled out of the bowl making you wet your lips anxiously readying to see what question you were answering next as it was your turn. “What is your latest regret?”

“Latest?”

You giggled out and the man eyed the card and nodded, “Yes, latest.”

With a nod you giggled again and settled your hand on the cushion beside your hip to lean a bit more off your thigh that was going numb from putting your weight on it for so long with your legs crossed awkwardly thanks to the stiff low couch. “Um, well only one thing goes to mind. I said some very, very hurtful and undeserved things about Henry Cavill.”

That had lips parting and another of the hosts asked, “You had a bad fight?”

And you giggled again, “No, see, in the States we live in the same building, and he lives above me. So every time he wakes up for a workout he wakes me up,” stirring up chuckles from the audience, “And well, I’m not really the most civil minded being woken up a bit after midnight to go and workout. So I’m not always kind to my adorably oblivious and equally as irritated neighbor. Tom’s workouts are later in the morning and always remind me to wake up again for breakfast.”

The first host chuckled asking, “Tom doesn’t wake up with you?”

“Well he lives next door. There’s some rooms in the way keeping him off Henry’s schedule.”

The other host inhaled then said, “That post you made, about spending the holidays being under Henry and next to Tom then, it’s because you’re neighbors?”

You nodded and giggled saying, “As much as the alternative would be lovely for anyone,” laughs erupted again with whistles and claps in your voice dying to more giggles at the groan from the two other hosts who then began to try and argue that you were merely being coy and should be open with your poly love.

 *

Muttering curses to himself Henry sulked his way from his mail box to the lift again not having woken up to you in his arms as he’d dreamed after seeing your latest interview online. Surely welcoming in his mind to affections, not shutting down that he was ‘just friends’ with you or stating that neither of you wasn’t attracted or interested only worsening his urge to plan more for your dinner. A missed body on his left was brought to his attention at the box of cupcakes open and being offered to him. “Accept this and the Boleyn whore dies.”

The whispered comment had his head turning and lips parting to see you recognizing the reference to an old role of his. “So certain of yourself for a tiny assassin.”

Your head turned and in a poke to his leather clad middle in his reach for a cupcake you giggled out the question, “What are you wearing? Is this your new casual?”

“Ha ha. No.” he faced you fully saying with arms out by his sides, “I am the Witcher.”

Your jaw dropped, “No!” Your hand planted on his middle testing the material.

“Yes,” he grinned in replying, “Wanted to give the look a worn in feel to it. Had it two days and I’m mailing it back tomorrow.”

“Pick out your dress yet?”

“No,” he said with a deepening smirk, “Have to settle for a suit, sorry.”

“I suppose I can tolerate another suit on you.”

Smirking again he watched you step out wondering how you had in your near daily texts and emails sharing what you were up to for work now mingled with odd reminders throughout the day for him to drink water and have snacks always fluffing up his mood and melting him more. Always luring up an ache to be more than just friends but unwilling to dare mention his feelings for you over the phone. “If you like, we could have a practice run on that dinner. I could bring up lunch in a bit.”

His hand jut out to hold the door that was closing and you smirked turning to face him, “Don’t you mean down? You live above me.”

“You know what I mean.”

Playfully you asked, “Do you even know which apartment is mine?”

“Clearly it would be the one closest to how far I have to walk to be under mine.”

“Touche, give me a twirl and I’ll say yes.” Smirking at you he lowered his arm and turned in a circle.

“Satisfied?”

“Not as satisfied as you’ll be in taking that off again, Sugar Plum.” You said stepping back, “Take your time, got some things to hide.”

“What things?” he called back in the doors closing making him huff again then look down at the cupcake from you making him smack his lips, “The woman is going to make me tear my clothes.” Lifting the cupcake he tasted the icing on making him smirk again in a pleased hum and mutter as the doors opened again, “Worth it.”

.

A few weeks to Christmas and you were stuck in the States between recording voice over work and helping to go through an indy film script from a friend. To help work it out better that you would be given the lead role in once you handled the invisible elephant lurking around in the script you couldn’t quite locate yet to fix it to perfection. Beyond irritatingly you trudged through the garland and bows trying to not feel the sting that your family would be scattered across the globe for the holiday for the third year in a row. Thanksgiving was just two days away and even though you didn’t celebrate it back home the family centered day complete with nationally aired parade left a timid stance from you when passing your four seating table in the dining room. You would be eating alone on this day for family and couldn’t help but feel the pull to try and make something to honor the tradition that surely would ruin your work to keep in shape for a filming bout in early December.

Leaving the cupcakes on your counter you got to gathering up your laundry left folded across your couch and coffee table to take into your bedroom closet. A final check of the entertaining areas and with a sigh you sat down simply turning on your tv to distract yourself from the leather clad man upstairs. Lost to wondering if he was changing, showering, of course the latter was where your mind dipped to completely making you flinch at the doorbell sounding and pop up to your feet before you had noticed it. To the door you walked trying not to admit you had fallen for the man before even talking and that in your patting your cheeks to ensure hey weren’t warm that just thinking of his dimpled smile these days had you blushing like an idiot since that dinner together with Tom.

Opening the door however your brows inched up and Tom was standing there saying, “I heard you have cupcakes.”

“Oh,” your voice cracked out and you stepped back forcing out a grin trying to not let him in on the fact you had hoped you would be alone with Henry, “Ya, in the kitchen.”

Closing the door behind him you paused a moment resettling your pleased grin onto your face forcing down your dashed hopes relaxing that clearly you had been silently rejected and quite possibly Tom would be there the following night as well. Giggles and chuckles quickly broke out between you in the wait and revealed that you had brownies cooling on the stove you planned to share with him later brightening his smile. Another bell sounded and it seemed the air in the room shifted suddenly when Tom went rigid and blurted out, “Right, thank you for the cupcake and I look forward to sharing the brownies later.”

“Later?”

He nodded and turned to walk to the door curiously luring you along with him. Upon his opening it you caught Henry’s slightly awkward but relieved grin seeing his friend here with you as he had requested while he showered and changed, “Tom,”

With a pat on Henry’s side Tom stepped around him saying, “Just remembered I have a call I have to make about work. Could take hours, been pushing it off, but I will see you two for supper.”

Curiously in his hurried pace back to his own apartment you and Henry looked at each other and you said, “Want another cupcake?”

Lifting the bag of supplies in his hands he said, “Mind if I use your stove?”

You shook your head, “No,” stepping back to let him past you so you could close the door slightly confused at Tom’s leaving so fast at Henry’s arrival.

Wetting his lips he found the kitchen and started to unpack his bag, “I guessed it might be easier to cook down here than bringing the food down.”

“What are we cooking then?”

“Not we, me. You relax. I got you.” Shifting on his feet to turn to the stove and set the temperature for the chicken breasts. On the other side of the counter you talked about the series on the Witcher and how he had been chosen and training for months now.

“No wonder you’re so grumpy,” you teased making him smirk and steal a glance at you in setting the table.

“I brought some wine too, if you like, it’s rather sweet over smoky deeper reds I’ve tried.”

“Fair warning,” your words had him looking at you again sloppily trying to find the noodle he was holding up to test the cook on increasing your urge to burst out laughing while you subtly snapped a picture of the moment on your phone tucked mostly behind the counter after looking something up a few moments prior. “I don’t have wine glasses. I do have sort of round-ish looking glasses that could be wine glasses if they had stems, with sharks on them.”

His grin split out again and mid chew he said, “Should be fine.” Finishing off the noodle he pulled out another and lifted it with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, “Do they need a bit more?”

Closer you stepped and parted your lips at his clear intention of not handing over the fork. A quick blow on the noodle and you pulled it off the fork with your teeth and said, “It’s good. Don’t want it to cook too long or they’ll be ruined.”

“I’m glad we agree on that. My brother’s fiancé likes hers mushy.”

“Ugh,” you said walking to your cabinet to bring out the pair of glasses you had mentioned with a shark on each with the words ‘Fluent in Sharkasm’ in grey letters making him chuckle to himself. Filled plates came next and carried over to the table they were settled with you choosing to sit on his right instead of across the table, using the closeness to the counter as an excuse to not sit there. One pop later and the wine was opened spreading his smirk mid story on how his bother and his mushy noodle loving bride to be met.

Pouring the wine he chuckled out, “And he tried on horseback to propose, rode out to a picnic spot and they get down and he drops down only to hear a rush of liquid.”

“Oh no,”

He chuckled, “Oh yes, horses, both of them decided to relieve themselves right then.” You giggled and he chuckled again sitting down fighting to hold back his smile, “Sort of spoiled the mood. But they laughed about it, had the picnic, rode back home showered and had bowls of ice cream he set out the ring in her spoon.”

“So sweet. Choking hazard, but sweet.”

“Oh she has a thing about spoons, he put out the wrong shaped one for ice cream. Knew she wouldn’t use it.”

“I bet she was thrilled.”

“Oh ya, one of the better proposals from my brothers. Another one ended with the both of them being covered in paint.” You giggled again and he chuckled saying, “Long line of Cavill men flubbing through proposals. I ended up with cake in my lap.”

“I doubt that would have been a problem for long,” making him smirk, “Flub or not but you covered in cake is tempting enough to drive someone crazy figuring out which is sweeter.”

Setting the bottle down he shifted in his seat resting his hand on the back of your chair, “That’s dangerously close to a compliment out of jest,”

Leaning in your fingers gently tapped around his chin, “Who’s jesting. You never heard dimples are dips in mounds of sugar on legs.” A faint blush prickled up onto his cheeks and you asked, “Sugar p-,” His eyes however had dipped to your lips after your gaze dropping to his chin in a dry swallow.

The distance rapidly closed and a sure tender plant of his lips on yours closed your eyes. Tilting his head the one kiss blended into two and then three at the grazing of your fingertips along his jaw in response to his free hand cupping your cheek through a stolen peek at you. A few more tender pecks was all he could claim until a growl of his stomach left you giggling against his now frozen lips. Huffing in his pull back you giggled again smirking at him in his now bashful inspection of your reaction. “You should feed that before it goes on a rampage.”

“Funny.” In another glance over your face he said, “I should have asked first,”

When his gaze drooped to his lap you shifted onto your feet snapping his attention back to you in time to close his eyes for the plant of your lips on his. A more passionate locking of lips brought his hands blindly, one to ease your right leg closer to the chair between his legs in case you needed support with the other to settle around your hip marking a silent plea for you to lower if you wanted to sit on his leg. At your lips leaving his he panted for air and you said, “If you want permission, you have it.”

Again your lips landed on his in a firm but brief kiss luring his hand to cup your cheek, leaning in at your pull back to claim another momentary kiss followed by one from you on his nose. “Food,” you giggled out at the next growl of his stomach and turned your head to kiss his wrist drawing a chuckle from him at the retraction of his hands as you sat again.

Slicing your first piece from your chicken you said, “You left off at you covered in cake?” In your gaze up at him a blush prickled across his cheeks and his dimples deepened in a smirk sent your way. Back to joking through dinner you went with his long leg shifted to press against yours for a continuance of contact between glances at the show playing in the background spurring up more stories of travels you once had triggered by the hotel reality show based in Australia.

Once the plates were emptied he helped you in carrying everything to the sink. Grinning to himself in aiding in rinsing the dishes you added to the dish washer that was closed with an adorable kick of your foot. A rinse of the skillet you brought over ended with him drying his hands on the towel hanging on the hook dangling from the cabinet above the sink.

Over your shoulder as you stole a glance at the table ensuring you had gotten everything he leaned stealing a kiss on your cheek. Turning your head in the breaking of your reach to turn off the faucet his lips found yours again. Against the counter you leaned stretching up to aid in the distance with hands easing over his shoulders while his molded around your hips. A sudden lift had you on the edge of the sink and arms circling his neck in a mingled set of sighs from the increasingly passionate kiss. Planting your feet on the cabinet under you to try and anchor yourself from the slide into the sink coming from his wide self trying to ease closer to you.

Against his lips you muttered, “I’m getting wet.”

Firmly his lips had planted on yours again and in a hum from the click of what you had said, and more importantly why you had said it had one hand from him cupping your bottom. Right on the mild wet spot from the rebounded splatter off the skillet to lift you and turn blindly shutting off the faucet on his way taking you to the couch. Muffled giggles from you came in the tightening of your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, the latter then loosened when he sat down. Barely a few minutes was all you got in the tightening hold of his arms bringing you closer to his chest not for any reason but to memorize the details of being tangled in an embrace with you only for a buzz from his pocket to make you giggle again in his grumble. Sliding off his lap to sit curling your legs up beside him as he pulled out his phone.

A work call left you watching the show and in stretching out on your side, his gaze turned your way with a smirk at your legs spreading across his lap. Through the call his free hand lowered to smooth across your legs tracing shapes and words into your skin during his wait to kiss you again.

Turning his head he eyed a blanket and in hanging up he brought the blanket over, sliding you down more on the couch to ease out behind you laying his arm out under your head to hold you in a nap you’d been drifting off to propping his head up on the pillow you had been using. The stirring grumble from you had him pressing a kiss you your cheek humming back to you, “Nap time. You’ve had a long flight. If you want I can go?”

“Mmm,” you grumbled back pulling his arm over your side tighter around you spreading his grin as he lowered to cuddle closer behind you. At the quiet from next door Tom checked your front door. And finding it unlocked he eased it open to creep inside only to grin spotting the two of you in your nap on the couch he snapped a picture of then crept his way out locking the lower lock on his way out to wait for later when you would share dinner as a trio again.

.

A heavy sigh had your eyes opening to find a nose inching into your view. Behind you Kal had sprawled out and was wagging his tail seeing that you were waking up. “Hey handsome,” you said reaching up to stroke his cheek.

“Good nap?” Tom asked leaning over the back of the couch grinning at you as he watched you sitting up.

“Yup,” shifting your legs out from under the blanket on your lap freeing Kal to wiggle across your lap on his back for belly rubs making you giggle and oblige.

Glancing to your kitchen you watched Tom head back to helping Henry with dinner, the latter saying, “You just relax, we got dinner.”

When Kal lost interest hearing something hitting the floor he hurried to the kitchen to inspect what type of scraps it was freeing you to your feet to start setting the table. Curiously looking over the pair you asked, “What are you guys doing for Thanksgiving?”

Tom smirked saying, “Well, I have settled to watching the dog show again. Got close to naming the top five myself. The poodles always throw me off though.”

To yourself you giggled and looked to Henry as he said, “Just going to watch some Bruce Lee films my brother gave me last year.”

“Ooh,” you said gathering the glasses you took to the table making Tom smirk glancing between you seeing that Henry was watching your back.

Tom wet his lips and asked, “What about you? Big plans?”

Turning your head you said, “Bought a ham, and all the spreads. Seems nice, having a day meant for cooking. So if you get hungry, I’ll have food.”

Tom smirked patting Henry on the back, “We would love to join you.”

Through dinner the plans were set and you shared the time set for cooking. By the time the meal was cleaned up their plans for calling home were shared and you hugged the pair good night, lingering just a moment longer in Henry’s kiss on your cheek and hushed mention of seeing you for your usual shared gym trip.

The door closed and nipping at your lip you sighed and turned for your coffee table to get your phone to take to bed with you. Laid out on your belly you tucked a pillow under your cheek finding Richard’s contact and sent him a message. “Hey Richie Rich. Nearly off to bed before the gym, fun day?”

Just about you could hear his low hum of a reply, “It was amusing, had a bit of a battle with a new bookshelf. Tried to bite my finger.”

At that you giggled and said, “No doubt it behaved after you smashed it with your hammer.”

“Definitely worked it into submission. How’s Henry?”

“Had a practice dinner of a lunch.”

“Ooh, that sounds cozy. Please tell me that dinner is a date.”

“Dress fancy, though he couldn’t find one in his size it seems, had to settle for a suit again.”

Richard chuckled and called you making your head dip a moment in a giggle and answer for him to say in a teasing hum, “How’d the lunch go? Well I hope, I know your weakness for dimples.”

“So hard not to just stare at him dumbly. Sugar on legs. He cooked, we talked, he kissed me,”

“Did he? Good. About time.”

At that you giggled and said, “Then he apologized for not asking first, so I kissed him again and gave him permission.” Making him chuckle. “Cleaned up, kissed, cuddled on the couch in a nap.”

“Looks good for your dinner so far. Sounds like you’ve picked a great boyfriend.”

“No title yet, just cuddling so far.”

“Oh it’s more than cuddling, I assure you. Just check his account, he posted a picture of you and his dog saying you were resting up for the big dog show and a Bruce Lee marathon on Thursday. You made plans for Thanksgiving.”

“Tom’s coming too.”

“And he can watch your little family blossom on your first holiday. How’s your dad taking it?”

“Um, haven’t really talked about it, game week, he’s busy getting the guys ready. But I hear Henry’s got tickets to the next game, guess I can bring it up, not sure if I should subject him to the whole meet the family just yet.”

Lowly he chuckled, “Why? If you’re in town no doubt he’ll have you meet his too. No doubt he’s told them about you. How could he not?” He paused for your confused sigh and he said, “Just give it a few days, I bet he’ll be bringing up that he’s got tickets to the game.”

“Possibly.” You sighed out and he chuckled, “I should let you get ready. Double show, right?”

“Yes, I love you, and so does he, your family will love him too.”

That made you giggle and reply, “Love you, Talk to you later Richie Rich.”

“Bye bye.”

He hung up and you sighed rolling over on your bed to plug in your phone only to see your oldest brother sending you a screen cap of the picture of you and Kal napping. Below the image a simple message, “Hear he likes the Reds.”

Rolling your eyes you answered, “He does.”

Only to read, “Good, dad’s expecting you to dinner, all of us coming, even Luke, Hill and Todd are coming after their own matches. Sleep tight sis and enjoy your cooking.”

Grumbling through a rub of your face you turned over after wishing him a good night burying your head under a pillow to try and sleep. It wasn’t long until you woke grumbling to an alarm sounding above your head and you sighed rolling out of bed to change for the gym. Locking your door behind you from the opening lift you heard Henry asking, “Just what have you been muttering up at me this time I wonder?”

Smirking at him you walked to join him replying, “That’s between me and my pillows.”

Shifting his arm he eased it around your back leaning in to kiss your cheek, “Sleep well?”

“Nice mini nap. Got a couple messages from home.”

“Same here, brothers called asking about my trip home next week.”

“Right, you’re off across the pond again.”

Anxiously wetting his lips he asked, “When are you heading back?”

“First two weeks of December, final bout to finish it off for the year.”

“Well that’s good, we don’t live far from one another, I don’t think.”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to reach you, I don’t mind the tunnels.”

“I’d drive to you.”

“What if its hours?” you teased and he smirked at you.

“Then I’ll drive hours. Or move, if I get tired of the drive.” Making you roll your eyes, “Not the best time to move, the winter, but I will if I have to.” Settling his hand on your side to start the walk out to the gym, grinning to himself that he could take you in a couple like way. A short split for putting your things up and you both delved into your usual patterns, each keeping the other in sight wondering when the next time that you might be able to jump in and help the other.

For the leg press a chuckle sounded behind you as you eyed the machine a guy had left well over your height and glancing up Henry eased his hand across your back saying, “One sec.” Settling into the machine to release the lever to lower and lock it to your height. His hand molded around yours accepting your help up and released to help you set the weights before taking a pause between his own exercises to chat with you during and between your sets. With a hand up you went to use the swinging arm machine while he was off to work on his glutes and thighs. At least that was your intention as he rested the weighted bar on his hips and did hip thrusts and holds eventually making you have to stop at your slightly childish giggling. Holding his lift he chuckled noticing your move to slip to the bathroom to collect yourself and finished his set thankful his groin muscles had healed.

Returning again you claimed the spot to bench press bringing Henry over with a smirk to trade off weights and turns on the bench. Lower weights and high reps were intended to help keep you both up for your date tonight and not in too much pain. All the same a break for stretching had him settling on a quick shower once you had mentioned to do the same. A hasty towel dry of your hair you braided back and you redressed exiting to find him tying his shoe he didn’t realize he’d missed before in his hurry. “Ready?” he asked as he stood and you nodded accepting his hand. Once outside he said, “I have a photo shoot in a few hours, but I should have plenty of time to be back and ready for dinner.”

“Sounds like fun. Lounging clothes or something sportier?”

Lowly he chuckled, “Not sure, think they said something about a jumper,”

“Ooh, no doubt nice and soft.”

Smiling at you he said, “If they let me have it I’ll give it to you.”

“Those are dangerous words, Sugar Plum.”

“Oh really, and just what might happen if I did?”

“One way road to me having to kiss you.”

Faking a gasp he leaned in, “How despicable,” earning a giggle from you muffling against his lips, in pulling back he hummed, “I may just have to take that chance.”

For the few minutes you had in the lift he held you close kissing you again and walked you to your door to steal another final kiss and had to say goodbye to finish getting his things ready for the shoot. Timid waves and joint turns away left you both to separate mornings, you to answering your dad’s call to finalize the plans for your trip out for the game so he could meet your new cuddle buddy. Him and your brothers seemed eager to meet him and had heard so many good things about him.

.

Exhaling sharply you smoothed your hands over your hips smoothing out the pencil skirt on your backless black dress held together with crossing pink straps matching the tall heels you’d picked for the night. Turning in the mirror you eyed your loose curls swept to one side and lip stain chosen you spread across your lips that gave a soft pop before your checking pucker to ensure they were covered fully. Adding that to your mismatched grey studded clutch with your wallet and phone you carried to the living room reminding yourself on how to casually stroll in the tight skirt. The motion instantly came with ease as you’d very unfashionably worn it a gasp inducing fifty times since your oldest brother had bought it for you on a family shopping trip for a party. The silhouette and simple black design had it a staple to any fancy sort of occasion to dress up for.

The knock at your door had you turning from your pacing steps grinning out of nerves in the crossing of the room. Upon opening the door you chuckled finding Henry there holding up a powder blue jumper smiling at you in saying, “One dangerous jumper.”

Accepting it you eyed the pack of glow stick words he held up making you giggle curiously, “Thank you?”

Chuckling bashfully he said, “I was a bit late on the flowers and I wasn’t certain on the whole chocolate situation, they only had the Godiva nut coated packs, so, swords.”

You giggled again, “No going wrong with swords.”

“Exactly,” he said following you in a couple steps to set the pair down on the table along the wall, and in looking the back of your dress over instinctively he stepped closer to you smirking in your turn to face him again giving him another chance to look you over while you looked over his fitted charcoal suit and light pink shirt toned down by the charcoal tie your fingers rose to trace. “Besides, swords go with the jumper,” he hummed out moving closer at your arms easing up over his shoulders signaling his hands to circle your waist drawing you closer leaning in, “Only the best for my tiny assassin.”

Again you giggled melting into the kiss he began that lasted for a few perfect moments granting his fingers a chance to trail up and down across your back in the lean in and out. Keeping his forehead against yours he murmured, “Dinner first, then you can try on the jumper.”

“What a charmer, already trying to get me out of my dress.”

Chuckling through a blush he kept a hand on your back to step to the door, “Yes, out of your clothes and into mine.” Making you giggle in stepping into the hall.

Locking the door behind you he led you to the lift and smiled with you leaned against his side. Peeking up at him you said, “I do have to warn you I was asked for a picture of us, so, some time tonight.”

With a smirk he pulled out his phone and you both chuckled and smiled through the picture he took of the both of you and said, “Mum wanted one too. She loved you in Berlin Station by the way.” That had you giggling and covering your face a moment with one hand making him ask, “What?”

“I can’t remember an episode where I wasn’t taking off my pants or in a corset.” Making him chuckle, “One scene where I beat a guy into the ground in a bath towel too, that one I would be proud to show off to anyone. Not gonna lie my dad was proud of that one.”

Making him chuckle, “No doubt, Tom’s watched it all, I am a bit behind on it. Between you and your friend Richard’s naked scenes I had to take a pause.”

You giggled again, “No I get that, had to pause Tudors more than once for Henry’s love scenes. I didn’t think I could get irritated with seeing a guy naked so many times.” Again he chuckled and nodded, “And for the last couple seasons I ended up just fast forwarding through his love scenes, which, honestly makes it easier to binge it.”

“I bet.” You stepped out and were on the way to his car and he asked, “Any corset scenes in this film?”

Smirking up at him you said, “No, rarely take off my trench coat. It’s sort of a pirate like outfit, kind of similar to your Witcher outfit. Full long swords and mini crossbows on my hips and thighs look.”

“Ooh,”

“Exactly, love it. I think the most is I take off my boots for a wake up shot, ankles under the bed,” he chuckled as you added in sitting in the car he unlocked and opened for you, “It’s pretty intense.”

“No doubt,” he said watching your legs shift into the car. He closed the door and hurried around to get in, “You prefer it? The grittier films?” Glancing your way.

“I do like the physical roles, grittier emotionally are good. I am not gonna lie, I’m sort of tired being the strip down and grind on somebody just to fill in a blank two minutes in the script.”

He nodded wetting his lips resting a hand on the wheel settling to listen to you before backing out, “I get that.”

“Because there’s so much more to a relationship that can show intimacy past just throwing down. If it’s useful to the script then ya, even in my first roles it’s been a point I drove home to the directors, if it can be cut out and not change anything then I’m not doing it. Which, as irritating as it is for them it really got, like in the show, it gave the writers a chance to fluff out more ideas they’d been sitting on, like the towel scene, they wanted me actually to have a quickie with Rich in a closet,” His lips parted, “Exactly,”

“How did Rich take that?”

You giggled, “He’s ready for his dad bod years, the roles he gets to not be shirtless, so he really helped with backing me on that. Which is so huge, because of my age, and I’m not gonna be oblivious and say I’m not attractive and my body isn’t marketable, and I’m not uncomfortable being scantily clad for good reason, but I’m not another girl they can just snap their fingers and I’ll strip just to shut them up.”

“I do get that, even just the filming for Superman, it’s terrible, starving and tearing yourself apart for three minutes before you nearly black out in a fight scene. Then it’s get shirtless. I do wish it was better, especially for you. Even Witcher, I have shirtless scenes, the bathtub scene, some love scenes but it feels so much safer than how other projects have been.”

“Well I can’t wait to see it.”

He smirked at you asking more curious than anything, “So you wouldn’t mind seeing me in love scenes?”

Shaking your head a blush prickled across his cheeks, “Nope, because it’s not porn, I mean eye porn maybe,” making him shake his head and turn forward shifting gears to back up, “But no, I get the job. And it depends on the guy, some guys they bring it home with them, literally, including their costars,”

“I don’t do that, ever.”

Patting his arm you said, “I can tell, what about me?”

He glanced at you again, “No, I have loved your films.”

Softly you asked, “Even the one with the radioactive zebras?”

“The what?!” he chuckled out.

“Not every one then.”

“Apparently not, I will be looking that up though later.” Again he stole a glance at you and asked, “I have to ask, was it because of your family, the nudity restrictions?”

“Um, I mean no dad wants to see their baby girl pinned to a wall,”

“No, they do not.”

“It really also comes with my realizing that I was a demisexual, which really,” you let out an awkward chuckle, “my dad actually told me that was what I was,”

“Really?”

“Ya, it was a huge thing, I had a boyfriend in school who just, railed into me that I was broken and just, because it’s not about looks for me, and it was just not clicking the whole hormone thing like other teens to just tear off your clothes and go to town as much as possible. Just, I didn’t feel that,”

“I would have killed him,”

“My brothers almost did, and my dad told his dad who really sent the message home that you don’t talk to women like that. And, one of my cousins is gay, so my uncle learning about that talked to my dad and they got these books and said that it made sense for how I was even in that awkward phase. I mean I was one of the few people pissed that Jurassic World had the romance taking screen time away from the dinosaurs,” Making him chuckle again, “Even the Tudors, the sex got in the way, I am there for dinosaurs and the costume filled drama.” Looking at him you said, “So just growing up, relationships are, different.”

“My oldest brother’s actually ace, so we have been there, as a family,” he tapped his chest a moment, “So nothing but support from me and the family here.” After a moment he asked, “How did that conversation go, with him?”

“There were tears, mainly from me, but in a good way. They’re all really supportive, it really goes into their protective ways to make sure that that’s not an issue. Part of why they do really love and support my position on this and love that when I am stripped down it’s important to the plot, and why they love my choice in friends who all are so supportive with my dad bod mentality.”

“I do love that mentality. I really do. And I can’t say how helpful in readying for this role has been grueling, and just your presence is incredible in dealing with that, especially even with just the instagram ghosting with me and Tom, and then the triangle press. Being away from family is grueling, and work on top of it, I think I would have snapped if I wouldn’t have moved into the same building as you two.”

“Don’t make me give you a hug,” Again he chuckled and smiled at you, “Because I will, once you park, no one can save you.”

“I don’t want to be saved.” He said looking forward again. “I enjoy your torture.”

In a giggle you replied, “Careful who you say that around.” Luring another chuckle from him in his hand lowering to yours on the arm rest he took hold of in the easy silence falling between you.

Outside the cozy place he picked for dinner he sighed seeing the cameras there for another couple inside who once you were on your feet realized who had arrived, only capturing a couple snapped images of you both passing through the open doors. Back to a private booth you were led and focused on the menu you chatted over, facing one another when the orders were taken leaving just you both. Drinks were brought granting a moment of reprieve from the awkward silence before you said, “So, you like rugby.”

He smirked answering, “I do.”

“We’re both going to be in spitting distance of the next Reds game.”

“Yes,” he said inching up in his seat excitedly that you were bringing up the match he was wondering how to ask you to. “I actually was going to ask you about that, I have tickets, really good ones, if you’d like to go with me?”

At his hopeful nip at his lip you smiled letting out a soft chuckle, “Yes, that would be fun.”

“Good, because my brothers will also be there, around us.”

“Wow,”

“I understand if-,”

You shook your head, “It, actually, being blunt,” he nodded with brows furrowing a moment trying to gauge what you were going to say, “My dad called, and my brothers,”

“Okay?”

“They are all coming, and having a dinner they would like me to bring you to.”

The awkward smile on your face spread one across his face and he replied, “Sounds like fun.”

You pointed at him, “Keep that glimmer in your palm and don’t let go,” making him chuckle again, “Now they aren’t-,”

He shook his head patting his chest, “Four brothers, I am ready, and absolutely looking forward to meeting your dad especially.” Making you giggle again.

“You’re going to geek out aren’t you?”

“Oh yes,”

“No doubt my photographic memory on the team history will be tapped more than once.”

“That is so attractive to hear.” He said lifting his glass for a sip, “You being a Reds fan will smooth so much with my family.”

You giggled lifting your own glass, “Oh I put the fan in fanatic.” Earning another chuckle from him. “Hope you’re not too close to the field, I might just get escorted up to the box so I won’t distract my dad.”

“That bad?”

“Oh if you think he’s a hard coach you were not paying attention two years ago when I filled in through Gramps’ shoulder surgery.”

“That was you?”

You pointed at him, “All me, guys were so glad when he came back,” earning a laugh from him at your giggle, “Dad has never seen men so eager to do his sprints and relays.”

“But they won the title,”

“They did,” you giggled out, “And the other teams couldn’t talk trash, cuz we won.”

“Insane credit your way.”

“Thank you, they always joke about the next generation being in for hellish victory if I inherit the coaching from Dad. I think Todd would actually be a better match with the owners though for the political aspect. I’m not very good at politics.”

“You and me both.”

More favored Hobbies blended into stories from your lives growing up to help smooth things over a tad with the families. Thrown drinks and an erupting argument had you both giggling and sneaking out with him blocking you from anything possible projectiles to get you safely back in his car where he had to fight his urge to just kiss you senseless out of sight from other diners. But he tucked you safe out of sight and started the drive home again holding your hand all the way to your door where he said, “Ten minutes, I’ll bring the wine down.”

“I’ll break out the brownies.” He stepped away only for you to poke his arm, the wide grin on your face had him chuckling and closing the distance draping his arms around your back pressing the clutch he had claimed to help you out of the car.

Humming lowly stroking his nose against yours, “I assumed dessert would be time for kisses.”

Below the knot of his tie your hand settled and you whispered back, “You have my keys.” Breathily he chuckled realizing why you’d stopped him only to melt into the kiss you claimed keeping hold of his tie you had given a gentle tug to.

Drawing back he chuckled again passing you your clutch, “Ten minutes. I look forward to seeing you in your new jumper.” He hummed out turning to head up and change in your slip inside your apartment.

Lifting the jumper you carried to your room and left it on your bed to wiggle out of your dress and heels to hop into some shorts and a tank top covered by the jumper you tugged the sleeves up on to pull your hair into a messy bun. Into the living room you went smirking as you eyed the pack of swords, and idea popped in your head and you were off in search of a post it note.

‘Defend yourself,’ the words were written on a post it on the hilt of one of the fake swords splitting a beaming grin across Henry’s face as he entered your apartment in slippers, sweats and a t shirt leaving the wine on the table by the door. Around the corner he came finding you popping into his path ensuing a playful giggle filled mock battle through the apartment ending with your victorious giggle from on top of your bed. A narrowed gaze from Henry ended with his sudden grip of your thighs to tackle you onto the bed releasing a squeaking giggle in his lips planting on your cheek.

Behind his camera having followed the sound of a possible scuffle Tom smiled saying, “I always miss the swords fights.”

Henry chuckled looping his arms around your back to pick you up and carry you into the living room, “Time for brownies and wine, then we can duel.” Tom chuckled pocketing his phone after having sent you both copies of the video he had shot of your duel. Sugar and wine dripped break bled into the brandishing of the third sword in the pack in a pitifully managed triple duel with pillows as shields ending with the three of you sprawled out in your bed.

Sunrise stirred you hearing Tom contently sleeping to your left with Henry draped across your chest clinging to you. The gym was skipped for a day and contently as Tom slept the duel and dessert off Henry smiled feeling your fingers smoothing through his hair and across his back in the picture of perfection topping off the best date the pair of you could ever have.

[noreasonjustbored]

Fall In Fake Love With Me

Hey everybody! I’ve been off of this story for a minute, huh? So sorry about the long time between updates on this but thanks to everyone who is still sticking around.The next chapter should definitely be up quicker than this one was. If you want to be tagged in my future posts, please let me know. Please leave feedback as well, it really keeps me motivated to write. Tag List: @mychenrymadness @up-the-tube @heyimtavia @adorkable-blackgirl @henryhearts Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Sitting in the car after Henry’s little door stunt was... awkward to say the least. Charlotte couldn’t stop thinking about what it meant. Or if it meant anything at all. Was Henry flirting with me just then? Or did he do that to prove a point that we do need to practice? Am I looking too hard into this? Ugh.

Sighing, Charlotte turned away from the window she was staring out of to glance over at her best friend. Henry was focused on the road while casually bobbing his head to the music softly playing on the radio. He was driving with his left hand while his right arm was draped over the center console.

Taking a deep breath Charlotte as casually as possible slid her hand under Henry’s, entwining their fingers. Without saying a word, he shot a glance in her direction before giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Ok, that was natural enough. And I’m not even that uncomfortable despite the fact that Hen’s hand is kind of sweaty. See! We don’t need to practice. Or IS this considered practice since no one else is around? Am I still looking too hard into this? Ugh.

Charlotte was absentmindedly scrolling on her phone with her right hand while her left stayed comfortably nestled in Henry’s. She looked up randomly and noticed that they had passed the neighborhood where the party was being held.

“Uh, what are we doing?” Charlotte asks. “You missed your turn.”

Henry just looked over at her then smiled softly.

“That creepy smile wasn’t an answer to my question.”

Henry laughs slightly but still doesn’t answer her.

“Oh wow, it’s really happening huh? This is the night you finally kill me.”

“Yeah, all these years I’ve been lulling you into a false sense of security so that I could murder you. Even though I am LITERALLY a superhero.”

“Semantics.”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes in response but doesn’t say anything verbally. After driving for a few more minutes they arrived at their destination.

She almost forgot they were holding hands until he pulled his hand from hers when they arrived at their location.

“Chantel’s? What are we doing here?” Charlotte asks.

“WE are going on a date.”

She whips her head in his direction. “We’re doing what now?”

“I’m kidding, we’re just getting something to eat before the party. Relax.” Henry chuckles.

“You could’ve just said that.”

“Yeah but your reaction wouldn’t have been as fun” he says as he gets out of the car.

“Whatever. And we couldn’t go through a drive thru and eat in the car because...?” she counters as she also exits the vehicle.

“Well we could have but where’s the fun in that?

Charlotte rolls her eyes again but follows him towards the establishment.

“Plus I told Bianca that we already had dinner plans, remember?”

“Yeah why did you say that? I actually don’t mind Mastro’s.”

“Because” Henry opened the door to the semi-formal restaurant and gestured for her to go in. “Everyone is going to be at Mastro’s.”

“Exactly. Isn’t that what we want?”

“Not necessarily. Us being here will show exclusivity.”

“How’s that?” Charlotte wonders as they stand in line.

“We’ll be here. And although we could have hung out with everyone, we chose to be alone instead.”

“Sure...but I still don’t see the point of being here specifically, we could’ve just gone to Nacho Ball.”

“Yeah but Nacho Ball isn’t a good place to flex for the Gram.”

As he said that, they reached the hostess station. “Reservation for Hart please.”

After being seated in a booth they looked over the menu.

“Order something that will look good in photos” Henry urged.

“This isn’t like a super fancy restaurant but okay.”

“Yeah but it’s fancier than Mastro’s and that’s all that matters.”

“I guess.” Charlotte shrugged.

After ordering their meal and waiting for it to arrive, the two made small talk.

“So what’s the strategy for the party?” Charlotte inquires.

“Uhhhh? I was thinking that we could wing it.”

“Of course you were. Hmm. Why don’t we keep up this exclusivity thing? That way we don’t really have to interact with many people but they can still see us together.”

“I guess that could work. Sure.”

“Okay so when we get to the party let’s just find a corner to chill in for like an hour and then we can leave.”

“Deal.”

At that moment, their waiter brought their food over. Charlotte picked up her silverware but Henry stopped her from taking a bite.

“Pics or it didn’t happen. Remember?”

“Oh yeah, what do you want me to do?”

“Just look at me and smile.”

“Simple enough.”

Charlotte smiled while Henry tries to make sure both her and the food were in frame.

Wow her teeth are perfect. Henry thought to himself.

“Got it.”

“Cool, let me see?”

“Yeah sure. Hold on, I’m just typing a caption.”

Charlotte takes a few bites of her dinner while she waits.

“Okay here” Henry says while passing her his phone.

On it she can see an in-progress Instagram post with the picture of her, which turned out great, and a caption that says ‘Prettiest girl in the Tri-State area’.

“Alright Doofenshmirtz, Tri-State area? Really?”

“I don’t know! I realized as I was writing it that I’ve never flexed for the Gram before.”

“Clearly. I haven’t either but saying that your “girlfriend” is pretty in only three states is definitely not it. How about this?” Charlotte asks she changes the caption on the photo and hands the phone back.

“Prettiest girl I know” Henry reads out loud. “Fax. Alright that works. And...posted.”

When Henry looks up from his phone Charlotte is staring at him incredulously.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did you just say fax?”

“No printer. Why?”

“I’m the prettiest girl you know?”

“Objectively speaking, yes. 100%.”

“You can’t be objective about beauty. It is inherently SUBjective.”

“Suuuurrreee, Charlotte ‘PYT’ Page.”

Charlotte looked at him even more confused. “You know what? Let’s just move on. Should I post something of you?”

“Yeah but let’s not do the same type of photo. Ummmm...here” Henry says as he goes over to her side of the booth. “Scoot over.”

Charlotte obliges and then Henry throws an arm over her shoulder.

“Cheese” he says while taking her phone and snapping a photo of the two. Then he leans in and kisses her on the cheek for the second picture.

“Oh that’s perfect. We look goooooooood.”

Henry putters around for a few moments before handing her the phone back.

“My date is better than yours” Charlotte nods her head in approval. “Not bad Hart” she says while officially posting it online to her profile. When she exited out the app she notices that Henry also changed her phone screen background to the first picture they took.

“Really Henry?” She asks while turning the phone around so he could see what she was referring to.

“Yeah really. Real couples have each other on their lock screens, it’s a thing.”

“Ok well make it your lock screen too. Let me send it to you.”

“No need.”

“But you just said-“ she cuts herself off after Henry flips his phone towards her so she could see his background. It’s the picture of her upside down on the ManCave couch. The snapshot he took on the day this whole fake dating thing started.

“Okay then” she concedes.

They continued their dinner in relative silence but it was a comfortable quiet. The stifling air from earlier in the night had completely dissipated.

Once finished, Henry paid for their meal and they left Chantel’s hand in hand.

[emilialuciasantos]

Is This a Date? (Part 1) || Emilia x Lola

Where: Santa Monica, CA

When: February 25, 2021

Featuring: Lola Siciliani (dialogue provided by Frenchie @lola-siciliani), Blaine Valentine, Ace Wong

Triggers: Mention of hospitalization, mental health (anxiety, body image issues), mention of abortion, mention of bullying

Emilia pulled up to Lola's apartment and texted her that she was outside. She needed to see Lola after the day she had in the ICU. As she waited, she answered a few OnlyFans DMs. People really wanted her attention tonight. She had no idea why though. It was only Thursday. She usually only posted new content on the weekends. The last message she had to send was to Lollypop12, a kind mutual who she had been chatting with a lot. Lollypop12 reminded her of Lola so much, but of course she wouldn't ask Lola if she had an account. The last thing Emilia wanted to do was make her uncomfortable. Before she could finish writing the message, she spotted Lola walking up to the car.

Lola was immersed into her book when she received a text message. For a moment, she had quickly glanced, thinking it was AJ, but when it buzzed again, her eyes lit up seeing that it was Emilia. She went to double check to see if she received any word from lucylovexox, but she was probably busy...there was something that seemed familiar about her, but she was just glad that she had made a friend. Slamming her book shut, she ran to her mirror to make sure her hair wasn't too out of place and scurried out the door to meet up with Emilia. She might've nearly tripped down the stairs on her way out, but luckily, it didn't appear like Emilia noticed as she waved at her approaching the car. "Hey!"

Emilia unlocked the door for her, asking, "Hey! How's your day going?" She had a rough day, but seeing Lola made her day almost instantly better. "I just gotta answer this text real quick, then we can go get dinner." The text was actually the OnlyFans DM she was writing, but she wasn't going to admit that out loud. Word spread fast in their city, and her career would be ruined before it even began. She typed out "Goddamn, you are killing it! 🥵🥵🥵" and hit send before shoving her phone into her jacket pocket.

Lola hopped into the car and grinned, "Besides nearly falling asleep in chemistry class, it's going pretty damn great, what about you?" She asked curiously. Just like that, Lola's energy practically zapped her back to life and she wasn't feeling so sluggish anymore. "Oh, no worries, take your time," Lola pointed out with a smile as she nodded her head along to the radio, not saying anything to make sure Emilia was focused on the text. That was until her phone made the ding sound and she went to check to see who it was. AJ typically had the worst timing until she saw none other than lucylovexox and her heart dropped. There was no way.

“Better now. I was put in the ICU today for clinicals... it was rough.” The ICU was never a pleasant place to be. It didn’t help that she knew one of her patients. She didn’t know him well, but he was related to Blaine and had done her and her mother’s tattoos. She was ready to start the car, but then heard the ding. She froze like a deer in headlights. This had to be a coincidence.

“That, does not sound fun. I’m so sorry,” Lola frowned. “I’ll buy you an appetizer for your troubles tonight?” She offered with a smile. She couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Emilia between navigating the ICU for clinicals and still managing to make her way to see her...but Lola was grateful and she’d try to repay her as best as she could. Of course right now she wanted to quickly rebound and say, “Oh it’s probably my brother,” She chuckled to lighten the mood. As she checked her phone she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks and her ears as she responded, “That one was specifically for you 🥰🥰🥰” And all she could do now was hold her breath, and hope, the phone next to her wasn’t going to buzz.

“Aww, you’re too sweet. You don’t have to do that though.” She couldn’t get over how nice Lola was to her. Sure, her friends were nice to her, but Lola went above and beyond compared to most of them. She started up the car then felt her phone vibrate. One buzz, followed by a double buzz. One of those was definitely a text from Blaine, who had been bothering her all day about his maternal family. The other, she wasn’t sure about, but was scared to find out. She bit the bullet and looked. A text and an OnlyFans notification. She had to turn off notifications for OF one of these days. “Sorry, Blaine’s been texting me all day about family stuff.” That wasn’t a lie, but not the whole truth either. “I’ll answer him back later. You can change the station or put your own music on the aux if you want.”

“Yup, I do. It’s law. Bad days require amazing appetizers,” Lola grinned brightly at Emilia. It was at that moment she could hear her siblings in her head saying ‘welcome to the club’ and ‘it’s about goddamn time’ about her feeling her own feelings again. There was just something about Emilia that just made everything feel okay again. However, the buzz brought her mind back down to earth and that, got her heart racing, but then, it was followed by another buzz. Okay, it wasn’t, Emilia. Even though lucylovexox seemed so familiar and comfortable to talk to, there was no way it was Emilia. “Oh, is everything okay?” She asked curiously. Even though she and Blaine had a stand-off last time, she knew Emilia cared about her step-brother, and if she was worried, Lola would be worried too. “Don’t worry about it,” she chuckled. “I love this song actually. It’s been stuck in my head since I first heard it, actually.”

“Oh is it now?” she asked, a small smirk forming on her face. However, thinking about her day and the possibility of her alter ego being discovered brought her back to reality. She sighed before answering, “Don’t go spreading this around, but one of Blaine’s maternal cousins went into the hospital last night. Overdose. He’s in the ICU, and since I happened to be in the ICU today, it became my job to update them all on his condition on top of, you know, working. And now Blaine’s just complaining about how his relatives are irritating him.” With the car still in park, she opened up her phone to look at the notifications. She sent Blaine a quick “you’ll be aight” text, then went back to the DMs. Lollypop12, of course, came up first, followed by a man called GregT143. Greg was obsessed with her, or rather, with Lucy. She didn’t have the mental energy to answer either though, so she exited the app, put her phone in the cup holder, and started to drive.

"It is, I said so," She wiggled her eyebrows at the green-eyed girl. Lola had to push the thought from her head that Emilia was potentially lucylovexox--mostly because they became pretty acquainted with each other and she'd probably wouldn't know how to handle herself without being a flustered mess. At Emilia's confession, she did something she hardly ever did with people, she put a careful reassuring hand on Emilia's shoulder. "Don't worry, it'll be between us. I'm sorry you have to deal with all of that, though. I can't even imagine how much of a headache that must be. I'm here for you though. If you want to like...vent and stuff," She offered with a lop-sided smile. Once she realized what she did she carefully inched her hand away back to her lap and took a breath. "So, um, this is...completely random, but earlier today my Nonna gave me a play by play of my old neighbors back home fighting. They fight every Thursday over a different topic each and every time and this week, they were screaming in the street about laundry."

Why was Lola so nice? Why did her hand on her shoulder make her heart flutter? Why did someone as cool and confident as Lola even give her the time of day? All of these thoughts, the thumping beat of Rihanna’s “Where Have You Been,” and the fact that her phone buzzed five times in a row  (all messages from Greg, of course) made it hard for Emilia to focus on the road. As Lola recalled the story her Nonna told her, Emilia abruptly pulled over and put the car in park. After turning the volume on the radio down to zero, she sat in silence for a moment, forehead pressed against the steering wheel, before apologizing. “I’m sorry... sorry... I just, I got overwhelmed. Sorry.” She felt like she was ruining the evening before it even began.

As Lola wrapped up the story with a, "Apparently you can't put orange with white because everything turns peach--" She kept hearing the buzzes coming from the cup holder and as much as she tried to not look, her eyes quickly glanced and saw the OF notifications and her heart fell straight down into her stomach as her eyes quickly went back to Emilia's as the car was suddenly pulled over. "Hey, hey," Lola unbuckled her seatbelt to scoot closer to Emilia, her hand lightly going over to her head, to turn the green eyed girl towards her. "Em, it's okay. I'm here."

“There’s too... much... happening!” she yelled, bursting into tears. Emilia was overwhelmed. She didn’t know why this was all hitting her now, but it was, and it was hitting her like a semi truck. She yanked her seatbelt off and buried her face into Lola’s shoulder. The fact that she was being so soft and comforting only made Emilia bawl harder. Then her phone buzzed again. This time it was a double buzz, a text message. The text was from Blaine and it said, “I know. I’m sorry everyone was bothering you. Thank you for your help today. Babciu and Kieran really appreciated it.” She didn’t want to read any of her messages at the moment, so she looked up to the blue-eyed girl and asked, “Could you please put my phone on airplane mode? The passcode is 0506.” 0506. May 6th, her mother’s birthday.

If there was one thing that Lola couldn't handle, it was emotion, but somehow, somewhere in the back of her head, she knew exactly what to do as she pulled Emilia into a tight hug, and rubbed her back in a soothing circle. "Just breathe, Emilia," She whispered softly. She couldn't imagine what was going through Emilia's head, being completely overwhelmed and overloaded, like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. All Lola could do was hold her tight to keep her together, to let her know she was here to hold her up. At Emilia's request, she nodded silently and typed in the passcode, ignoring all the texts and notifications as the phone was put into airplane mode. She set the phone back into the cup holder, and carefully went to cup Emilia's face, her thumbs wiping her tears. "Let's just take a moment for you to be in silence, that way you're not surrounded by a major sensory overload, okay?" She said, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I got you. I'm not going anywhere. Just take a moment."

A wave of relief washed over her once her phone was turned off. No more insane buzzing, no more horny incels or annoying brothers. It was just Emilia, Lola, and the low rumble of Emilia’s car engine. “Thanks... and sorry again. Can you repeat what you said before about your Nonna and the laundry? I didn’t fully understand you.”

Seeing Emilia pull herself back together was strength, in Lola's opinion. She was definitely having a day and she'd do her best to make it just a little better, if all else failed. "No need to apologize, I get it," She reassured the other brunette with a reassuring grin. "Oh, um," She chuckled awkwardly. "My Nonna likes to give me a play by play on my neighbors arguing every week and this week it was about laundry, and why you shouldn't put anything orange into a pile of whites."

Emilia sniffled, using her jacket sleeve to wipe her eyes. “Still. You have your own stuff to worry about. You don’t need my stuff too.” She often felt bad about bothering people with her emotional problems, even when she was confiding in someone she wholeheartedly trusted. She didn’t want to come off as whiny or annoying. “Huh, no orange and white. I’ve never had an issue with mixing whites and colors, but I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

"Sometimes we can't handle everything on our own, Em," Lola pointed out. "It's okay to lean on someone you can trust. I don't mind at all," She reassured her with a grin. All she wanted to do was pull Emilia into a hug again, but she definitely didn't want to go overboard...especially because she enjoyed hugging her. "Neither have I," She laughed lightly. "Honestly, I think they just have detergent that makes their clothes bleed, but I didn't tell Nonna that because those neighbors were like a telenovela just unraveling every week."

“Thanks again,” she said softly, leaning her head back on Lola’s shoulder. She wanted, no needed, another hug. It made her feel safe. Lola made her feel safe, amongst other things. “Yeah, it does sound like they have bad detergent. If you want to hear about a real-life telenovela, you should hear about my Uncle Luis’ love life.”

"Any time," Lola grinned. When Emilia's head went to Lola's shoulder, she couldn't resist wrapping her arms around her once more, just completely taking in the moment. She wanted to keep her safe, as much as she hated admitting to herself that she felt strongly for Emilia. "They really do. I'm gonna guess it's like AJAX or something?" She chuckled. "Oooh, you gotta tell me. How bad as it," She asked curiously. Then, she did something she didn't think she'd ever do: she carefully brushed a random piece of hair behind Emilia's ear.

Emilia closed her eyes, sighing softly. She hadn’t fully calmed down yet, but she was starting to. “Oh, it’s really bad. I should probably start by saying that he’s awful and no one in the family likes him. So he dated this woman when I was about ten or eleven, cheated on her with her twin sister, and got both of them pregnant.” She felt her cheeks blush when Lola touched her hair. She hated how much of a blusher she was, especially around her. She also hated how much she wanted to make out.

Lola hoped that Emilia was starting to feel better and was letting the weight lift off her shoulders, even if it was for a bit. "We all have a relative like that in our family, right?" She smirked until her eyes widened at the story. Now that, was pretty damn messy. "Wow...um...huh," She chuckled, shaking her head. "Okay, I just have one question: did they wind up having twins on their own too or...I'm just mildly curious on the outcome of all that, don't mind me," She waved off casually. She noticed Emilia's blush right off the bat. Frankly, it reminded her of the first day she met, except this time...she was fighting the urge of not instantly moving in to kiss her.

“Oh, well, one didn’t end up having any babies, and the other gave hers up for adoption. Just a single birth. I hope that kid’s doing alright.” She didn’t have any more information on that situation, but she did know that Luis had at least four other kids he wasn’t paying child support for. After finishing her story, she sat up and put her seatbelt back on. Her brain was still rebooting from the panic attack, but if she didn’t start driving now, she feared she might do something she’d regret. “Okay, I think I’m okay to drive now. You mind if I keep the radio off though?”

"Woo...I don't blame either of their decisions, honestly. I can't imagine how heartbreaking and rough that must've been. Definitely telenovela status," Lola nodded with a bewildered look for a moment. When Emilia sat back up, Lola went to grab her seatbelt to put it back on again. At least now things were back to normal...well, her mind was still reeling from all that had happened and the fact she had just done the thing and had to restrain herself. "Awesome! I'm ready!" She grinned and then followed up with, "Not at all, we can talk or drive in silence, whichever's more comfortable for you."

“Yeah, that was a particularly bad Luis story. I probably shouldn’t have known about that as a child, but I did.” It was because she and her mom always lived in tiny apartments and Emilia often eavesdropped on telephone conversations between her mom and Abuela. “I’m okay with talking.” As she drove, she didn’t do much of the talking. She preferred listening to what Lola had to say.

"You know I feel like when we have women in our family that love spilling tea, we're bound to know the wrong thing at a young age, you know?" Lola chuckled. "I definitely get it. The things my mom and Nonna, and Aunt Connie would talk about would be wild," She added on with a silly grin. "Okay, we can do that," She nodded. "Well, if you want to talk about family drama, well the current family drama is that my older sister hates my brother's girlfriend because she stands in solidarity with her best friend...who slept with my brother's girlfriend's ex-boyfriend...who also just so happens to be my brother's best friend."

“No one really told me stuff, I was just a nosy kid,” she explained, chuckling. “But now that I’m an adult, I get included in the conversation. Abuela looooves talking shit over the phone.” Emilia’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head when Lola talked about her family drama, not only because of how obscure this story was, but also because she remembered this story. “Shit, I think I heard about that on Gossip God!”

”That’s the best part. The eavesdropping. Did you ever hold the cup to your ear while your mom was in the other room??” She asked curiously. “YES!!!! Isn’t it great. Especially cause they think you won’t say anything. You become the new bearer of secrets,” She giggled. At Emilia’s expression, Lola laughed and nodded. “Because it was broadcasted on Gossip God. My brother and my sister’s best friend were wrapped up in alll of that. I mean, as much as Ivy wants me to hate Lydia, I’m curious about her and personally I just want to see her point of view and then determine from there. My mom agrees.”

"I never had to. Thin walls plus loud mom equaled perfect eavesdropping opportunities. She always gets mad at me when I tell her that she's loud, but then will yell at me to come downstairs for dinner at a volume loud enough to be heard down the block." She laughed at her own joke. Paula, whether she admitted or not, was a loud-mouth. "I'm a pretty good bearer of secrets, if I do say so myself. Except I do tell my mom most things. Like, I'd say about 90% of stuff." Of course she had her own secrets that she kept from her mom, but not too many. Just those involving sex work. "Honestly, I think you should get to know her on your own. Maybe it's one big misunderstanding. You won't know unless you do your own investigation. It reminds me of a law quote Blaine told me. 'There are three sides to every story: the plaintiff's side, the defendant's side, and the truth.'"

Lola giggled at Emilia's description of her mom. In fact, she could relate. Elena Siciliani was definitely one of those moms. "Ugh, lucky you...although I can relate with the loud-mouthed mom, until it came down to sharing gossip. I think our moms might get along honestly. Loud moms always flock together and you can hear them coming miles away," She shook her head as she explained through laughter. "That makes two of us then, huh? Although, let's be real, sometimes the secrets are just burning you have no choice but to tell your mom, y'know? Then they totally understand." It was often something that Lola did, often, although sometimes if it was too wild, she'd have to tell Ivy. "I think so too," She nodded in agreement and then tilted her head at Blaine's law quote. "That's...actually really insightful. I'll definitely have to keep that quote in my pocket. Thanks for that, Em."

“You think so?” Emilia thought her mom needed more mom friends. After Emilia fell out with her childhood best friend, Paula lost a lot of her mom friends. While she got along with Ace’s mom, they came from two totally different worlds and didn’t have a lot in common. “Oh yeah, totally. We bicker sometimes, but at the end of the day, she’s my best friend.” If there was one person Emilia could rely on no matter what, it was her mother. She was starting to get to that level of trust with her step family, but wasn’t quite there yet. “Oh no problem,” she said as she pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot.

"Definitely! My mom's loud and friendly to anyone she meets. Anyone. It's a pain because she always gets stopped at supermarkets because she's so extroverted and I'll be like 'ma...we gotta go'. Every time," She reassured Emilia. Hopefully their moms could be friends somewhere down the road...especially with how much Lola's been rattling her head off to the woman back home. "I love that for you both," She said with a bright smile. Lola was blessed to have not just her mother, but her older siblings too. Throughout the bickering, the fighting, she had them. So, she could relate to just Emilia and her mom, cause sometimes, that's all you ever needed. "So," She clapped her hands quietly, but excitedly, "I am so hype to try out this spot."

“That happens to my step-dad too. He just knows everyone!” Her mom was extroverted, but not as much as George. Emilia didn’t mind as much, but Blaine absolutely hated it. It’s why Emilia helped out with groceries more than he did. “Well I’d love to meet your mom one of these days, and I’m sure my mom would too.” She wondered how much Lola’s mom knew about her. Paula had heard quite a bit about Lola, and Gossip God filled in the rest of the blanks for her. She hated how accurate that blog was. She pulled into a spot, put the car in park, and turned the car off. “My personal favorite are the chicken tacos. I hear the fish tacos are good too, but I’ve never had them. I can try them, but only once.”

"Isn't it so daunting?! Like they get stopped literally everywhere!" Lola laughed at the thought of it. Often times, she'd joke that her mom was like the mayor or the president. Just always shaking hands and having very long conversations. "Definitely! I think she's coming down for March Madness or spring break, I gotta double check with her first, but I'll definitely let you know when he's in town," She reassured her with a smile. "Oooh, chicken tacos sound amazing right now. Especially with the green salsa," She sighed at the mention of the fish taco, she thought about it for a second. I can try them, but only once. "Wait a sec," She shook her head with a chuckle. "Are you allergic to fish?"

“Right? Sometimes I feel like my mom married the freaking Governor!” She laughed about it, but George could go into politics if he wanted to, and he’d probably be very good at it. Emilia’s eyes widened as she realized that she never told Lola about her allergy. “Crustacean shellfish,” she elaborated. “I never really had shellfish growing up because we couldn’t afford it. I tried shrimp and stuff a few times, but I didn’t realize I was having an allergic reaction and just thought it tasted bad. I didn’t actually know I was allergic until I graduated high school and tried lobster for the first time at my high school graduation dinner.” Worst dinner party ever.

"Exactly! It's like at this point, just run for office! Between your step-dad and my mom, they'd win the presidency/vice presidency for sure," Lola laughed at the thought of it for a moment. "Oh...that sounds incredibly terrifying and horrible," She shook her head in shock. "Rest assured, I'm not really a big fan of shellfish, like at all, my family doesn't really eat it cause ma's allergic, so, you won't die at Sunday dinner," She teased, and realized what she just implied...and then frankly she didn't care because she liked Emilia. "And yes, you're invited to Sunday dinner."

“Now that would be a sight to see.” Emilia wasn’t sure if she would ever want George to run for office, as he was, unfortunately, a libertarian. “Yeah, not fun times, which is why I generally avoid mixed seafood platters and fried foods at restaurants. Did you know that restaurants tend to fry everything in the same oil?” She didn’t know that until she was an adult. “I mean, if you did want to, I wouldn’t stop you, so long as you don’t kiss me on the mouth after.” Emilia realized after she spoke what she was implying, and once again, her face was red. “Uh... anyways, let’s go eat!”

"It really would huh?" Lola grinned, scrunching her nose up cutely at Emilia. "I don't blame you at all, that sounds terrify--wait what?" Her eyes widened in shock. This was the first time she had ever heard about food being fried in the same oil. "I--wow--that's--huh," She was pretty much speechless for a moment about the food until her ears perked up at Emilia's next statement. "Let's be real, if I were to kiss you on the mouth, I definitely wouldn't eat fried food or seafood. Maybe something sweet like, candy or fruit," She pointed out with a smirk. She was definitely being blunt now. "I mean, um, yeah, definitely, let's go!" She nodded in agreement, biting her bottom lip nervously, hoping to the high heavens that she didn't blow it.

“Mhm.” Emilia smiled at Lola’s cute little scrunched-nose expression. She wanted to take a picture and keep it forever, but didn’t do that because she knew that would be a weird thing to do. “Yeah. When you have a lot of food to make, it’s just easier to fry everything together. Not all places do it, but a lot of big places do, like diners and chain restaurants.” Emilia’s heart skipped a beat when Lola talked about kissing her. And biting her lip after? Was Lola trying to kill her? Her heart was pushing her to make a move before it was too late, so she did. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against the other girl’s. As soon as she did, however, her brain screamed at her to stop. ‘What the hell are you doing? Why would you do that? She doesn’t actually like you. Stop now! STOP NOW!!’ She listened to her brain, retreated, and apologized. “I-I’m sorry... I-I don’t know what came over me...”

Lola couldn't help but smile at Emilia's smile. She really did have the prettiest smile, and sure, it might make her a simp but she would go through hell and high water to make sure that girl smiled. God, she was hopeless. "That sounds so gross. That cross contamination sounds so deadly I just...ew. I can't," She made a sour face and shook her head for a moment. When her gaze met Emilia's, she could feel her own blush coming on starting from her cheeks and ending at her ears. At this point she just wanted to hide her face within her shirt, maybe behind her jean jacket if she could, but, suddenly, Emilia's lips were on her lips, and they were so soft but before she could even reciprocate it back, the other girl pulled back. And Lola, was bewildered. "No don't!" She quickly blurted out. "I um," She put her hand to her own lips and smiled a little, "Can we...do that again?"

Oh God, she actually did that. The brunette’s brain was moving a hundred miles per second. ‘That was a terrible idea. She doesn’t realize how much of a broken mess you are. No one wants to be with a broken mess.’ Once more, Emilia felt the need to apologize. “Sorry. It’s just... the things you were saying and way you were looking at me made me think maybe— wait did you just ask if we could do that again?”

Lola’s mind was running a mile a minute. Mostly it was an internal scream that Emilia had just kissed her. One part of her told her no, we’re not going back down this route again! but the other part of her...the other part of her was much louder and much softer. That part of her would never get tired of kissing Emilia. Her brow furrowed at Emilia’s apology, her assumptions were right, Lola was indeed flirting with the beautiful green eyed girl. “You don’t need to apologize,” She giggled softly. “And yeah, I did. I liked it,” she bit her lip nervously and then said, “I’ve been flirting this whole time, because I like the way your cheeks get all rosy and your smile gets all bashful. I think you’re really pretty—no—drop-dead gorgeous. And I wouldn’t mind kissing you all the time.”

You don't need to apologize. She repeated that to herself in her brain. You don't need to apologize. She heard it in her therapist's voice. Her therapist was constantly telling her that she didn't need to apologize to everyone for everything, that the feelings she felt were normal and valid. Maybe her therapist had a point. Hearing Lola say that she enjoyed the kiss and that she had been flirting with her brought a smile to Emilia's face, but part of her still didn't believe Lola. Emilia's mind was constantly in flux between 'you're awful and ugly and nobody will love you' and 'you're hot shit, but people will only ever love you for your body.' Right now she was stuck on the former. "Are you sure?" she asked, softly.

Lola could tell the situation was intensifying between them two, so carefully, she reached out to put a hand on Emilia's cheek to reassure her. She had to admit, she was a sucker for her, despite her own past heartache, but she had a glimmer of hope. Maybe she wouldn't be hidden this time, maybe she wouldn't have to hold her hand under the table. Maybe, just maybe, she could be out in the open with Emilia. She hoped so, at least. Carefully she leaned in closer and nodded, "I'm more than sure," She smiled. "I like you, Emilia."

She leaned into Lola’s touch, melting like a puddle in her hand. Why someone as cool as Lola liked someone like Emilia was beyond her comprehension. But being close to her like this felt nice, and she wanted to get even closer, physically and emotionally. “I like you too... So does that make this a date?”

It was official, Lola was indeed a simp and her siblings would give her the utmost shit about it...and she didn’t care. Emilia was the sweetest person she had come across, someone who could pull a smile from her constant rbf, she was someone who reminded her what it was like to feel a heartbeat. Her smile grew at Emilia’s confession and all she wanted to do was kiss her right then and there, but she decided to just lean in, and let her nose touch the other girl’s as she whispered, “It can be, if you want it to.”

“In that case, it’s a date... We should probably get this food before all the seats fill up.” As much as she wanted to stay here and enjoy this moment, she was starving. “Or I guess we could get it to go, if worse comes to worst.” As she sat up, she caught a glimpse of herself in the rear view mirror and realized how disheveled she looked. “Oh God, I hope you weren’t going to really let me go into the restaurant looking like this,” she said, reaching back to grab her purse. She had cried about half of her makeup off while panicking and wasn’t going to go out in public without fixing it. “Could you go in and grab us a table?”

“Great! It’s a date!” Lola echoed with a grin. “And um yeah because the last thing I had today was left over lasagna...for lunch,” she emphasized with a groan. She was definitely starving. “Let’s see if there are tables first and then if push comes to shove then we can get it to go and eat it at my place?” She offered with a smile. At Emilia’s comment, Lola shook her head with a chuckle, “Of course not, I would’ve definitely stopped you, but, I still think you look pretty,” She pointed out with a more bashful smile. At the request, she nodded and gave Emilia a quick kiss on the cheek before she went to unbuckle her seatbelt and hopped out the car. She was practically skipping with excitement as she made her way inside.

Once Lola was out of the car, Emilia screamed in excitement. She took her phone off of airplane mode and called Ace to let him know about the good news. She put him on speaker and told him everything that had happened in the car as she reapplied her eye makeup. She was over the moon, and Ace was just as excited for her. Once she looked presentable, she ended the call and entered the restaurant.

Lola was on cloud 9 as she made her way inside giddily asking for a table. She had gushed to the hostess about having her first date tonight with a pretty girl in which, suddenly she was being seated at her table. She thanked the woman and took a seat, quickly texting AJ and Ivy, “Guess I’m joining the club,” and then waited for Emilia, her heart, was officially racing.

Emilia stared at her phone for a moment before entering the restaurant. She knew she had messages to answer, but she didn’t feel like doing it. It dawned on her that Lola most likely saw at least one OnlyFans notification when she turned her phone off for her earlier, and that she had quite a bit of explaining to do. She would cross that bridge later though, when they weren’t in public. She sent Blaine a quick text, stating “no prob, ttyl” before going on airplane mode once more. She wanted to give Lola all of her attention. The hostess graciously showed her to the table where Lola was seated.

Lola could feel the adrenaline rushing through her and it almost felt like electricity in her veins, in the best way possible, of course. When she got a few texts back, mostly from AJ, because she knew Ivy was working, she quickly shot back texts doing her best to explain in few words before responding “I’ll call you later”, when she noticed Emilia approaching and quickly pocketed her phone. Gosh, she’s so pretty... she thought to herself quietly and then responded, “Well, long time no see, stranger,” She teased.

Emilia was excited, but also incredibly nervous. Why did she have to say the date thing? Now the stakes felt so much higher. There was a big chance that she would severely screw things up. But maybe something really good could come out of this. “I’m sorry, who are you?” she asked, clearly joking.

As much as she felt that the whole date thing would mean a little more pressure, Lola reminded herself to make it as enjoyable as possible, even if it was awkward. "Wooow, you wound me, Emilia!" She teased, putting a hand over her own heart in a dramatic fashion. "So, I have a proposition for you, that way it takes a little bit of weight of your shoulders."

She giggled at Lola’s response to her joke. “And the Oscar goes to Lola Siciliani!” She hung her jacket up on the back of the chair and took a seat, immediately reaching for the bowl of tortilla chips on the table. She was thankful for free restaurant chips. She raised a brow when Lola spoke. “A proposition? What kind of proposition are you talking about?”

“I’d like to give a big middle finger to the academy and a shout out to this gorgeous gal back home...” Lola teased with a giggle. She went to try to steal a chip from Emilia as she nodded at the other girl’s question. “Okay, so, I know this is the first date, but, what if we just say it’s a casual first date, so that way it kinda takes the edge off y’know? Like—we don’t have to sit and try to impress each other because we’re just here to have a good time, no matter what the outcome.”

"Damn, what'd the Academy do to you?" she asked, laughing. "When you say back home, do you mean here or is there someone in Chicago I should know about?" Emilia was sure there were plenty of gorgeous girls in Chicago, maybe some that Lola had dated. Now that she was thinking about it, she realized that she really didn't know anything about Lola's dating history. That would be a question for later. "I like the idea of a casual first date... I think I'd like to do the 'getting to know you' part of a date though, because there's still a bunch of little things I don't know about you yet, and I'd like to."

"Oh you know, snub all my favorite actors," Lola laughed along with her and then snorted at Emilia's remark. "Well, I'm starting to consider Santa Monica as a second home and the only pretty girl I know is sitting right across from me," She added, batting her eyelashes cutely at the other girl. "Then back home I got my ma, Nonna, and Aunt Connie," She added with a grin. She realized there'd be more that the two of them would talk about between growing up in their hometowns to the infamous dating history. She was ready--sort of. "Awesome! And yeah, we can do that, get to know the deep dark secrets and all," She teased. "I could take the plunge and start or, would you like to have the floor first?" She asked curiously, resting her chin on the palm of her hand.

There it was again. She felt her face warming up. She hadn't even been in this restaurant for two minutes, yet Lola was already making her flustered. Getting complimented by pretty girls was truly her Kryptonite. "Oh hush. I can't be the only pretty girl you've met. There are literal models who live here!" Emilia hadn't met any personally, but she knew they were out there. Her heart dropped to her stomach at the mention of deep dark secrets. Emilia would have to talk about her 'side hustle' eventually. She told herself this only moments ago, but she still wasn't ready. What if Lola judged Emilia for what she did? Or worse, what if she told other people? "Umm... were you in any clubs or sports teams in high school?" That was an easy enough question.

"Pink's definitely your color," Lola began teasingly. "Just look at how cute you look when you get all flustered," She said, wiggling her eyebrows at Emilia with a big grin. "Okay, so? That doesn't make you any less prettier than any of the models here. You're gorgeous and if you weren't sitting across from me I'd probably squish your face--and that's rare," She admitted aloud. She was so going to kick herself for that comment. "I played soccer and was in the science club," She admitted with a grin. "What about you?"

“Stooooop,” she whined, hiding her face behind her hands. “It might be one of my favorite colors, but not on my face.” She took a few deep breaths, trying not to get overwhelmed. Then it hit her. She thought to herself, don’t think like Emilia, think like Lucy. “That’s too kind of you. But you could squish my face if you really wanted to, like...” She reached across the table and squeezed one of Lola’s cheeks. “Like that.” She smirked at the other girl. “I did choir all throughout high school and I was in stage crew for a few of the school plays. Oh, and GSA. Ace convinced me to start going to that in junior year.”

Lola giggled at Emilia whining and hiding behind her hands. She had a feeling she could get used to moments like these, except she hated there was a table between them because she’d be all over, kissing those cute flustered cheeks. “Well, I think it’s so cute,” She smiled scrunching her nose up at her. Then, the tables were turned when Emilia went to squish Lola’s cheek and she laughed feeling her own face slowly begin to turn pink. “Well...” She cleared her throat, hiding her own face for a moment and suppressing a fit of giggles. “You’re on!” She said as she reached over with both hands to squish Lola’s cheeks and then said, “Hey, why don’t we switch it up and you can sit next to me instead or I could go and slide over next to you?” She offered. “Really?” Her eyes widened in awe at the other girl’s clubs. “Do you still sing? What plays did you get to do? And hey! Wait, Ace? Museum guy Ace?—sorry that was a lot of questions, don’t mind me I got excited.”

A wide smile formed on Emilia's face once she wasn't the only one blushing. "Well well, how the tables have turned," she teased. "You see, I would move over, but then you would be squishing my cheeks all night long." She paused, trying to think of the answers to all of her questions. "It's okay. So, one, I sing for fun when I'm by myself in my room and in the car, but that's really it. Two, I helped with set design and stage makeup for Hairspray and Little Shop of Horrors. Three, probably, yeah. He basically lives at Bergamot when he's not at work." She took her phone out of her pocket and pulled up her photos, handing it over to show Lola a recent selfie of her and Ace. "That's him. We've been best friends since he moved here in freshman year of high school."

"This is a cruel fate," Lola said in between laughs as she tried using her hands to cover up her cheek. "Is that such a crime to give you some affection?" She asked, batting her eyelashes cutely at Emilia with the most innocent of smiles. "Let me guess, you're one of those shy singers that sound insanely good, right?" She asked with genuine curiosity. "Wow, I gotta say, I'm pretty impressed," Lola grinned. At the picture her eyes widened. "Holy shit, what a small world! I actually ran into him at the museum actually. We were talking about Botticelli's Venus painting and the alphabet mafia."

"Yes, yes it is," she joked back. "I, uh, no. I don't think I'm that good. I never got solos or anything like that. I'm just a plain old alto." As per usual, Emilia wasn't giving herself enough credit. The main reason why she never got solos in choir was because she didn't kiss the choir teacher's ass like some of her classmates. "Oh yeah! He told me about that. I, uh, may have mentioned you to him a few times..." By 'a few times,' she meant 'more times than she wanted to admit.' At this point, Emilia could only assume that Ace was tired of hearing about her not-so-hopeless-anymore crush. When the waiter came over to take their orders, Emilia greeted the familiar face and immediately started making small talk with him in Spanish.

"Well, consider me a criminal then," Lola reached over to go lightly squeeze Emilia's cheek with a grin. "Really? Hm...I'd ask you to try me right now, but I don't want you to feel uncomfortable but, if you ever want to, I'd want to hear the 'plain old alto' for myself, if that's okay?" She offered with a soft smile. She didn't want to directly put Emilia on the spot like that, but she had a feeling the other girl underestimated herself. "O-Oh! Well, I hope I made a good first impression on your best friend then," She smiled bashfully. When the waiter came over, she watched with a soft smile as Emilia was in her element. While she could understand what they said and could speak it, she knew just out of sheer nervousness she'd fumble over words and be a flustered mess. So she let them catch up.

“I’ll let you get away with it this time because your cute.” Lola’s cute little smile and eyelash batting were driving her crazy. And the fact that she wanted to hear Emilia sing but was understanding enough not to put her on the spot? Forget it. Why is she so perfect? she wondered to herself. “Oh yeah. He laughed about the alphabet mafia thing for at least a whole day.” Emilia and the waiter asked each other about their families and life in general. Emilia, of course, left out the parts about clinicals stressing her out beyond belief. She ordered her usual chicken taco platter and Sprite, then the waiter turned his attention to Lola, asking for her order in English.

"Oooh, you let me get away with that then I think you'll be in trouble soon." Lola was very close to making a very cheesy 'stealing your heart' type of comment, but held herself back from doing so. At least the principle of it was there, or so she thought. "Yeah it was something that I used to throw around in high school until I was able to come out," She chuckled. Lola watched Emilia and her friend exchange their stories with curiosity for a moment until it was finally her turn. She ordered in Spanish and then followed up with, "I grew up in a predominantly Latinx community so and since Italian and Spanish are very similar, I learned pretty quickly."

Both Emilia and the waiter looked over at Lola, surprised. The waiter went off to get their drinks and Emilia asked Lola, “Well damn, why didn’t you tell me sooner? So you know English, Italian, and Spanish? Do you know any other languages?” Blaine was fluent in Italian because of his grandfather, and Emilia was tempted to ask him for lessons. “So backtracking a bit, when did you come out?”

Lola smiled sheepishly and then said, "I didn't want to interrupt the conversation, but it was just cool to just hear it. Almost reminded me of home. And yeah, I speak a little bit of Mandarin and Korean, because of this science trip that I took, but I'm mostly fluent in Italian and Spanish, what about you?" She asked curiously. She definitely hoped she didn't come off as too much of a nerd. "My junior year of high school, so like...two years ago. My mom hugged me and cried and said, 'Thank God, Lola actually enjoys other people's company!'...I didn't vocalize crushes like my siblings did, mostly cause I've always been the quieter one," She admitted with a chuckle.

"I grew up speaking both English and Spanish at home. Spanish was my mom's first language and she wanted me to be fluent too, so she started teaching me both at the same time. I learned ASL in high school, and I still use it with Ace regularly. Aaaand I took a French class last year to fulfill a language credit, but I can't say that I really speak it. I remember, like, a few phrases." Emilia couldn't help but giggle at Lola's story about her coming out experience. "Damn, your mom really turned your coming out into a roasting session."

"That, is so cool! You've honestly got me beat, let's be real. That's so sweet that you picked up on ASL to communicate with Ace, that's true friendship right there," Lola nodded with a proud grin. "Ugh, French. That is such a hard language to learn. All I can say is Je m'appelle Lola and oui oui baguette," She bit her lip, trying to suppress a giggle, but couldn't help but do so. "It wouldn't be a Siciliani family dinner if there wasn't roasting involved. My mom, nonna, and pops, are legends of that."

"Do I have you beat? You know more languages than I do. But yeah, I wanted to be able to talk to him in a way that made him comfortable. Plus I thought signing would be a good skill to have." Ace was the only person she regularly signed with, though she was able to sign with a patient during one of her clinical rotations last week and she felt accomplished because of it. "Right? French is weird. There's so many letters in the words and they only pronounce half of them! What gives?" She giggled at the 'oui oui baguette' comment. "I remember 'omelette du fromage,' from Dexter's Laboratory." Emilia smiled at her fondly. "Is this what I have to look forward to one day? Roasting?"

“Yes you do. I think learning sign language holds the upper hand to the amount that I know, you know? I think sign language should be something everyone should know,” She grinned. “I love that for you both though. And um, I’d be willing to learn if you’re town to teach me?” she asked with a cute grin, but she meant it. She’d love to learn sign language especially to make Ace feel more comfortable. “Exactly! Like what is even that language? It’s like alphabet soup or something!” Lola laughed alongside with Emilia and gasped excitedly at the Dexter’s Laboratory reference. “Oh my god, yes!!! That one is a classic, it’s honestly the first French phrase I learned,” she admitted with a laugh. “Yes, and once you’re comfortable enough with us, get ready to get roasted.”

“Oh yeah, I can definitely teach you some stuff! Ace would probably do it too. Just tell me when.” She knew Ace would be willing to do it, but didn’t know if he had the time to do it. “Just a heads up, the ASL grammar rules can get a little funky. Frustrating is what it is! When a word ends in -er, -ez, or e with an accent, they all sound like the letter a! How does that make sense?” She huffed dramatically. “I think it might be the first phrase a lot of people in our generation learned.” She laughed nervously at the mention of getting roasted. “Oh, fun.”

"That would be really great! I mean, whenever you both are free, of course. I know schedules can be all over the place and everything," Lola mused with a grin. She was excited at the offer, but she also didn't want to push it either. "Wait what?! Really?! So how do you differentiate whether -er, -ez, or -e to not sound like a?" She asked curiously. "Definitely! I mean Dexter's Lab was one of the most iconic shows of our time between that and the Powerpuff Girls," She chuckled and then shook her head. "Don't worry, we don't start it right off the bat. We take it easy until you're ready."

“We’ll figure something out.” She smiled at Lola, reaching out for her hand. “Fuck if I know!” she answered with a laugh. She liked to think about her French class— and the B- she got in it— as little as possible. “Oh my God, the Powerpuff Girls is my absolute favorite!” She still watched reruns of it to this day. It was one of her comfort shows. “Not the 2016 reboot though. We don’t talk about the 2016 reboot.”

Lola nodded and reached for Emilia's hand with a big smile. "French is truly the weirdest language, I'm convinced," She laughed. "Wait really?! Me too! The Powerpuff Girls practically got me through my first exams last semester, I don't know what I would've done," She explained with a chuckle. "No, absolutely not the 2016 reboot doesn't exist. Although, I have to ask, which one's your favorite?"

"No way! That's crazy," she exclaimed. "That's really your favorite cartoon too? God, it's like you get more perfect the more I get to know you." She had to have some flaw. Everything about her felt too good to be true. "Nope, it never happened. Neither did Teen Titans GO... Which one is my favorite? I think I'd have to say Buttercup. I've always wished I could be a badass like Buttercup, but really I'm just a big ol' softy like Bubbles. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing, just a true thing. If you were a Powerpuff Girl, I think you'd be Blossom. You have that natural-born leader vibe about you."

"Yeah! I mean, I'm definitely far from perfect, though, that's for sure," Lola admitted with a sheepish grin. While it made her heart swell that Emilia thought so highly of her...she often thought of herself as someone who was often closed off from the world. "Teen Titans GO is honestly homophobic, I'm convinced. The light-heartedness, the lack of dark aesthetic...what's the point?" She shook her head with a sigh. "Well for what it's worth, you look like older Buttercup, you've just got Bubbles' spirit, and that's okay. Besides, Bubbles proved herself to be pretty hardcore which scared Blossom and Buttercup," She smirked. "Well...since you said I'm Blossom..." She trailed off as she pulled her phone out, scrolled for a few moments and slid over a picture. "Blossom is my favorite Powerpuff Girl so my mom dressed me up as her for Halloween, especially since my hair's more on the reddish side, like my nonna."

Emilia didn't want to push it, but she honestly though Lola was perfect. "Right?! Like, what was even the point of rebooting that show? They made everyone less hot and more annoying!" She had a huge crush on Raven as a child, but didn't realize at the time that dating girls was even an option for her. "I do? Let me guess, because of the green eye/dark hair combo? I get my hair from my mom, and I guess I get my eyes from my dad. I never met the guy, but my mom's family is full of brown-eyed people, so by default, it has to be from him." Emilia's jaw dropped when Lola showed her the Halloween costume pictures. "Lola, that is the cutest shit I've ever seen! Oh my God! Look at your little bow, and your little dress! Ahhhh!"

Lola nodded with enthusiasm, "Yes! Thank you! I honestly don't understand why they took away the appeal of it all...and I swear if you tell me that Raven and Beast Boy were your faves, I might have to run and buy a ring." Lola was pretty sure between Raven, Beast Boy, Megan Fox, and Sebastian Stan, that they were her bi-awakening, but, it also wasn't something that she had expressed out loud either. Her crushes, were often very, very quiet. "Guilty as charge, but also, and don't hate me, but you have the most attractive rbf. That's what really sold it to me." At the mention of Emilia's father, Lola's head tilted curiously. This was the first time she had ever heard him mention, and frankly...she wasn't really sure if she should ask. She didn't want to make things awkward or make Emilia feel uncomfortable. "Well, green eyes or brown eyes, I still find you pretty," She smiled softly. "Oh god," She giggled, feeling her face heat up again. "I didn't think you'd gush that hard over little me!"

She paused for a moment, flustered by the ring comment. “Oh, uh, Raven and Robin... but I guess one out of two isn’t bad?” She couldn’t exactly pinpoint who or what her pansexual awakening was, as there were several different factors at play. But she knew pretty cartoon characters definitely played some sort of role. “Wait, do I really have an rbf?!” Emilia thought of herself as a generally happy person, despite the fact that her smile was a source of insecurity. “I appreciate that. You already know I think you’re really pretty. I see that look on your face. You can ask questions if you want to. I don’t mind answering.” Though she didn’t talk about her biological father often, the topic was no longer a sore subject for her. She had made peace with the fact that she didn’t know the man and probably never would. “What can I say? You’re just that cute!” she exclaimed, smiling back at her.

Lola chuckled at Emilia's reaction, she truly was endearing. "Yeah, that's still grounds for being wifed up, that's for sure," She teased once more. She was lucky neither of her siblings were around hearing what she was saying because she'd definitely be given shit for it. "You do when you're really focused on something, but--and you're probably going to roast me on this, but I find it really attractive on you. Especially like...the moment when someone catches your attention, it melts away and you smile and your eyes go from laser beams to little stars...wow, that's such a simp thing to say," She said aloud, her face, officially, as pink as the bracelets on her wrist, but it was the truth. It was what she admired most about the brunette. "Thank you," She chuckled. "Okay, I'll only ask if you're comfortable with me asking, however. I don't want to bring up anything sour or make you feel like backed to a wall or anything," She offered. "Not as cute as you," She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Huh, if I had known that, I would've put it in my Tinder bio! Just kidding, I don't have Tinder," she stated, laughing nervously. She was too nervous for dating apps. If she did use a dating app, she would have to do what she does with her OnlyFans and pretend to be someone else-- a much more confident someone else-- and she didn't like the idea of lying to a potential partner. With OnlyFans, she wasn't trying to find someone, she was just trying to get paid. Emilia once again found herself flustered at Lola's compliments. Lola's words flowed like a poem. She wondered to herself, How was she this perfect? "I think... that might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me?" She noticed the other girl's blush, but didn't want to embarrass her by bringing attention to it. "I honestly don't mind talking about it. I mean, I might not have great answers because I really don't know the guy, but it doesn't bother me," she replied, shrugging. "Oh hush. You're cuter."

Lola couldn't help but burst out laughing at Emilia's comment about Tinder. Even if she did or didn't have one, she had to admit it was pretty clever. Although, she, herself only lasted a day on Tinder before deleting her profile. It wasn't something she bragged about after the many unwanted dick pics she got. She shook her head at the thought. "Wait really?" She tilted her head curiously at Emilia. How could no one tell her how pretty she was? How bright her smile was and the way she laughed could echo in one's head all day. "Well, I guess I should just share more of what I think when I see you over time, huh?" Lola meant every word about her, too. "And, you just answered my question," She giggled. "For what it's worth, your mom did one hell of an amazing job raising you, and kudos to your step-dad, too," She smiled. "Oh, so we're just gonna have that battle on who's cuter, is that what I'm gathering," Lola teased, moving her fingers up Emilia's arm playfully.

“Well yeah,” she admitted. “I mean, people have complimented me before. But it’s usually just surface level stuff. Nothing like that. That right there was pure poetry. You should start writing this stuff down. Maybe you’ll get a poetry award one day.” She knew on a conscious level that there were people who found her attractive. She wouldn’t have subscribers if they didn’t. But the ghosts of bullies past still haunted her to this day. She often thought about the classmates who made fun of her weight, her overbite, and the fact that she sometimes would slip into Spanish by accident. She thought about the girls in her dance class who made fun of her for being ugly and wearing hand-me-downs, and because she had to quit because her mom didn’t have the money to afford the classes. She thought about her ex-boyfriend, who never outright insulted her, but didn’t care about her feelings or interests. But Lola was different. But it had her wondering why. Why was she being so nice to her? Did she have an ulterior motive? Or was Emilia just traumatized and in need of genuine human kindness? As she got lost in her own thoughts, she heard speaking and felt her arm being touched, but wasn’t retaining what was being said or what was going on. She focused back in, asking, “Sorry, I zoned out a bit. What was that last part?”

Lola smiled a little and shrugged, "I've never really written poetry before but...I guess I could give it a whirl. Maybe I could ask AJ to help me. He's really big on poetry. Just so you know if I win that award, you'll be the first I thank." As she continued talking, she could tell that something about Emilia was off. The way she suddenly fell silent rang alarm bells in the back of Lola's mind and so she stood up and walked over to sit next to her, closing the space of the table in between them. It wasn't something she often did, but, she knew it struck something in Emilia and the last thing she wanted was for Emilia to be sad. It made Lola wonder as she quietly brought her hand to Emilia's cheek, why in the world would someone want to hurt someone as sweet as her? "I'm sorry if that struck a nerve, Em," She said quietly. "I just...wanted to say that I really admire you."

“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. I guess my brain is still resetting from earlier...” She still wasn’t 100% after her earlier panic attack. This whole day was a rollercoaster, and she felt as if she had just hit a sudden death drop. She took a deep breath before finally admitting, “Lola, I honestly don’t understand why you’re so nice to me. I appreciate it, really, but I don’t feel like I deserve it.”

"That's okay, you can take your time. Today took a toll on you so I can't expect you to magically be better, but I do want to be here for you too," Lola offered with a soft smile. Anxiety wasn't fun and she could speak it from experience, although she was one to bury her emotions deep down and not really show it to others, that was a different story for a different day, however. "I mean, you were nice to me the day we met, you know? Aside from having a crush on you, you were my first friend here, someone that I could easily relate to. Why do you feel undeserving of kindness?"

“Thanks,” she mumbled, taking Lola’s hand into hers and squeezing it. Emilia wanted to be okay. She wanted to enjoy herself. At minimum, she wanted to put on a brave face and swallow down her thoughts so Lola could enjoy herself. That wasn’t happening though. She could only hope that Lola didn’t feel burdened by her outbursts and shifting moods. When Lola asked why she felt undeserving of kindness, she froze. It was only a matter of time before this question came up. She hesitated before answering, “I-I guess it’s because I’m not used to it. My brain is constantly fluctuating between the thoughts of ‘you’re ugly and no one will ever like you because of that’ and ‘you’re attractive but people will only ever like you for your body.’ And it’s like a metronome that swings back and forth, never stopping in the middle... Wow, I feel like I’m in therapy.”

"I got you, Em," She smiled, lightly squeezing Emilia's hand to reassure her. Lola knew it was hard to keep everything contained, to keep a brave face without feeling like everything just kept getting chipped away. All she wanted to do was be there for Emilia, throughout the ups and downs, the good, the bad, and the ugly. While Lola wasn't the best at handling her own emotions, she was pretty good at being there for when others needed her, and this time, was no different. "Hey, what you're feeling is valid. I mean, whoever made you feel like that sucks and deserves to be kicked into a canyon Sparta style, but, your feelings are valid. That doesn't make you undeserving, though. You are beautiful, inside and out, and you're more than your body...and, I'll remind you every single day that you're worthy if I need to. Cause I care about you."

She squeezed Lola’s hand again, needing the grounding input. The urge to kiss her returned, stronger than before. However, this was interrupted by Juan the waiter bringing their food to the table. She looked over at him, stating, “Muchas gracias!” She then turned back to Lola and spoke. “I care about you too. Thank you, for everything. I can’t even express in words how much I appreciate everything you do for me. You know if you ever need to talk about anything that I’m here for you, right?”

Click here for Part 2 

[gold-and-rubies]

In It For The Long Haul - Chapter 10

I posted things out of order. This is chapter 10. Claudia’s POV.

Claudia woke up shivering on the bare, dirty mattress. She was unsure how big the difference in temperature was between the old and current versions of the Commonwealth. If it was colder or warmer than before the bombs. Either way, she was not used to winter in the Commonwealth. The lack of blankets did not help.

She pushed herself into a sitting position. Her legs were sore from being on the road, running, all day the day prior. She stared at the wall ahead of her. Every time she blinked she saw Kellogg’s face.

She had felt herself get so unbelievably angry. It scared her how angry she got. She knew she was in the right. Kellogg was a down right bastard, but she hated herself for the contempt she felt.

She glanced at MacCready who was snoring quietly on the other bed. He was laying on his back with his hat pulled over his eyes. She could only really see his chin, but his body looked relaxed. He was always so guarded, even around her. She had figured something had happened, given the wasteland was little better than a hell hole. She had not anticipated he had lost his wife. Especially since she assumed they were about the same age.

She replayed that moment from the night before over and over and over. She could hear the grief in his voice. His pleas for her to not blame herself like he did broke her heart. She did not know what exactly had triggered what happened, but she felt horrible. But that vulnerability pushed out any ideas that he might be just in it for the caps.

She groaned as she got up. Part of her wished she could just stay in bed all day, even if the bed was gross. She grabbed her bag from next to Dogmeat. His head perked up as she reached for it. She scratched behind his ears, before she grabbed it. She quietly rifled through the bag before fishing out a canister of purified water. She downed half of it, before putting it back.

She grabbed her Pip-Boy off of one of the nightstands next to her bed. She sat down on the side of the bed, facing the other. The backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress. She was careful to turn down the volume before turning on the radio. She held it up to her ear to hear the sound of a fiddle playing. She waited for a few moments before McNiall’s voice came over announcing relative peace in the Commonwealth.

She sighed in relief. At least at that moment they would not have to take a major detour on the way to Sanctuary. She needed proper rest, or at least the closest thing she could get.

She let the sound of the fiddle come over for a few more minutes. She closed her eyes, listening to the music. The sound of the radio took her to some place out of time. For the smallest of moments it distracted her from everything. Then MacCready stopped snoring.

“Mornin’, Boss,” he grunted sleepily.

She hummed quietly in response, as she turned the radio off.

He sat up, and took his hat off of his face. This was one of the few times she had seen him without his hat. His light brown hair was oily enough that when he pushed it back it held its shape.

She felt her hand instinctively raise to feel her own hair. She missed being able to bathe regularly.

He put his hat back on, and yawned. He shot her a concerned look before speaking, “Do you… do you want to talk about yesterday? What we’re going to do?”

She sighed and picked at the pills on her knees. She did not want to focus on it anymore, but they needed a plan.

“That doctor he was tracking is in the Glowing Sea, right? We need to find a way to get through the rads… and we should probably let Preston know.”

“You’re actually going to go down there? Not only is it fu… very dangerous down there. This isn’t just a random merc we’re offing,” he warned.

“It’s not exactly like we have a choice,” she argued back, “It’s more than just the kid at this point. My job is to protect the Commonwealth…”

MacCready ran his hands over his face again, “Alright, if you’re sure. ” “We should probably get out of here before they start charging us extra,” he said, getting up from his bed, “We heading anywhere before going back to Sanctuary?”

“Not as of right now. Nothing was on the radio,” she explained.

“Straight to Sanctuary then.”

***

They got to Sanctuary by mid afternoon. They had a run in with a small group of raiders, but other than that the Commonwealth was surprisingly peaceful.

Claudia felt a sense of relief as soon as they saw the Red Rocket come into view. The Minutemen, with the help of some of the settlers in the area, had been doing a good job of keeping Concord clear of raiders and the occasional Gunner. At his point it was clear it was Minutemen territory. Animals, on the other hand, could not care less. She did not feel truly safe until they started to walk past the old gas station.

Someone she did not recognize was standing guard in a shack at the Sanctuary end of the bridge. He was a rather tan man with dark hair. He eyed them suspiciously as they drew closer. She could see his grip on his gun tighten slightly. She could feel MacCready tense slightly next to her.

“Welcome to Sanctuary,” the man said, “If you don’t mind me asking, who are you, and what’s your business here.”

Claudia smiled softly. It was nice to know their new guard was taking his job seriously.

“I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m General Claudia Flynn, and this,” she gestured to MacCready, “is MacCready.”

She watched as his face changed from wary suspicion to surprise and slight embarrassment.

“Sorry about the hostility Ma’am. I had no idea. My brother and I got in yesterday. It’s an honor to meet you. You gave us a new home, and the Commonwealth is getting better everyday thanks to you.”

“Hearing that means a lot,” she blushed slightly at the praise. Out of the corner of her eye she saw MacCready roll his eyes.

“I’m Gabriel Acosta, my brother Antonio is the night guard.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, and to know that we finally have guards here. You wouldn’t happen to know where Preston or Sturges are, would you?” she asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sturges should be in the workshop area, and I believe Major Garvey is helping out the Abernathy’s.”

“Thank you,” she nodded, frowning slightly. She did not want to have to wait to talk to Preston any longer.

“Glad to be of help, Ma’am,” he exclaimed, “Oh, and I believe Sturges wants to talk to you about something.”

“Thank you,” she said again as they walked away. She glanced at Maccready who was scowling.

“You good?” she asked.

“He should’ve just let us in,” he grumbled.

“He was just doing his job. Would you rather he let the place get overrun by raiders?” she joked.

“No, but when he found out you’re the general he should’ve just let us in.”

“He was saying thank you. You aren’t jealous that he wasn’t addressing you, are you?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

“No, just, ugh whatever,” he grumbled.

She scoffed and shook her head.

After they dropped their stuff off at their house, they headed off to find Sturges. They found him exactly where Gabriel said he was. He was standing in front of a table near the old workbench stripping apart what looked like an old car motor.

“Hey, Sturges,” she greeted.

He looked up from the motor, “Hey Boss! MacCready,” he nodded at him, “It’s good to see you two again,” a confused look came over his face, “Where’s the kid?”

“Things didn’t go as we hoped. We’re going to have to talk to you and Preston about it,” she explained.

“Damn. Well, at least I have good news. Found some parts to make a mic for your Pip-Boy. Make a portable HAM radio, so you can talk to the Castle without worry,” he offered.

She brought her arms to her chest, like she was protecting it, “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

“I’m not going to break it, if that’s what you’re worried about, or I’m at least ninety percent sure I’m not going to.”

“That’s not reassuring,” she said.

“At most the radio will be messed up,” he tried to assure her.

She sighed and undid the Pip-boy, “Fine. If you see Preston, come find us.”

***

Claudia sat on the couch in her old house. She flipped through some notes on the coffee table that Preston had written for her while she had been gone. MacCready washed the dishes from their dinner.

Sturges had gotten a water purifier up and running in the time they had settled Sanctuary with some help from Codsworth. Claudia and MacCready had hauled a few buckets of water to their house. He heated up one, and was using some soap they had scavenged to clean the dishes.

She jumped slightly when she heard someone rap on the front door.

When she opened the door Sturges was standing there Pip-Boy in hand.

“Good news, Boss. Both the mic and the Pip-Boy are in workin’ order, and Preston’s back,” he smiled, hand it over.

“Oh thank God,” she breathed, “This should definitely help. You guys ready to talk?”

“Yes we are.”

“Mac, you ready?” she asked, turning to face him.

He frowned slightly at the use of the nickname, “Yeah, everything just needs to dry now.”

The door to the Minutemen base creaked as she opened. Inside Preston was sitting at the table in the center of the room, waiting for them.

“It’s good to see you again, General. MacCready,” Preston greeted, standing up. He was slowly becoming more and more tolerant of MacCready.

“It’s good to see you too,” she smiled, “What did the Abernathys need help with?”

“Saw some Gunners scouting them,” he explained, “but there were only three, so I didn’t have any issues taking care of them.”

“Always better to have less Gunners in the world,” MacCready muttered.

“You won’t have any arguments from me. Anyway, you said you needed to talk to us about what happened with Shaun?” Preston asked.

“Yeah,” she said, folding her arms and leaning onto the table. She had been thinking about how she was going to start talking about this all day, but she still was not sure how.

Eventually she sighed and asked, “What are your opinions on the Institute?”

Preston narrowed his eyes at her, “I’m not really sure if I even believe they’re a thing. I think people are just being paranoid.”

“Sturges?”

“I gotta agree with Preston,” he shrugged, “Why do you ask?”

She shifted uncomfortably, “We tracked down the man who kidnapped Shaun. Turns out I was too late. Ten years too late…” she shook her head, “He handed him over to the Institute. They are very much so real.”

“Damn,” Preston swore, “That’s not good, but that explains a lot of disappearances.”

“I’m sorry about that, Boss. Institute's the biggest mystery in the Commonwealth. No one even knows where they are,” Sturges said.

“Maybe, but we might have a way to get in. They use teleportation, and there could be someone who can help us with that,” MacCready explained.

“Well, that explains a lot,” Sturges said, “I’m not entirely surprised they figured that out given their Gen 3 synths. Now where is this miracle person?”

“That’s the thing. He’s in the Glowing Sea,” she explained.

Preston shook his head, “Are you sure this is a good idea? Not only are we messing with the Institute, you want to go into the Glowing Sea? That’s the most dangerous place in the Commonwealth.”

“I know. Everyone’s told me, but we have to do this. I promised Nora I’d find her kid, and this isn’t even just about him anymore. This could affect everyone, and it’s our job to keep people safe, isn’t it?”

She could see him mulling over her words.

“You’re right,” he sighed, “Any ideas on how you’re going to pull this visit off?”

“I was hoping you two would.”

“Power armor should do the trick, but I’m not sending anyone out there in anything less than a T-51b,” Sturges offered.

“Are the suits we have not good enough?” she asked.

“Nah, both are T-45s, which means you’re going to have to keep an eye more than usual. I’m probably goin’ to have to make a few modifications too, so we’ll need parts.”

“It’s better than nothing,” she sighed.

“Alright then, looks like I’m goin’ to have a new project. If that’s it, I have some stuff to work on.”

She nodded at him, and they wished each other goodnight.

“You know about the Brotherhood ship, right?” Preston asked.

“We saw it sail into the Commonwealth,” MacCready grumbled. Claudia glanced at him. She wondered why he was so grumpy.

“What are we going to do about them? They aren’t exactly the most peaceful group.”

“Keep an eye on them for now. I don’t want to have to start a war I don’t need to,” she ordered. As uneasy as it made her feel, she did not think this so-called Brotherhood of Steel was an immediate threat. Not to the Minutemen and their settlers at least. Despite that she could not shake the pit in her stomach. Something big was coming, she could tell.

[simmonsofshield]

Reassignment

Part 1/1

Pairing: none Characters: Kate Beckett, Kevin Ryan, Javier Esposito, Jemma Simmons, Philip Coulson

Summary: Amidst clean up after the Battle of New York, things happen and Officer Y/N ends up in the quinjet’s medical bay.

Words: 1900+

A/N:  Unplanned, but I guess in honor of my url change, Jemma has a small feature in this fic! This was originally gonna be a copy-paste of one of my fics from wattpad, but then I wanted to make it more accurate to New York so 98% of this is new writing. So much for trying to cut corners. 🤷😂 Loose tie-ins of Agents of SHIELD and Castle. (Characters, not really the shows..) Canonically, Skye (Daisy) wouldn’t have her powers yet, but my story my rules lol. So she does. Three weeks late (I was suppose to post this on the 1st), but at least I got it done, right? This is for @fanfictionaries​‘s classic trope challenge. I chose police au. Takes place after Avengers.

Police codes key: 12-David-19 [Precinct # - city section - police car id] used 9th precinct as reference 10-50 Disorderly (group, person, noise) non-crime 10-10 Possible crime (many tags, the one i use is P, suspicious person/prowler)

“Here’s what’s going on today,” Captain Beckett begins, “it’s been almost six months since the Battle of New York. Midtown South is still asking for help with crowd control and patrol of the area, as most of their officers are helping with clean up. I told them the 12th Precinct is happy to help as long as it doesn’t interfere with our daily patrols. Today they’re only asking for two, so Ryan and Esposito, it’s on you today. Just make sure no weirdos or teens with sticky fingers try to get in the rubble.”

“Yes Captain.”

“L/N, my office, please.”

You look at her with surprise, then over to the boys. Ryan is the first to speak, rolling his eyes, “Of course. Little Y/N getting special treatment once again. I bet you’re getting put on a really cool case. You know, she’s basically training you to be a mini her.”

You roll your eyes back at him, “Sounds like you’re just jealous because I rose to this rank in half the time it took you.”

“Ooooo...” Esposito calls from his desk, “want some ice for that burn?”

“Shut up,” he mumbles as he slumps back in his chair.

You laugh as you walk to Beckett’s office, the door being closed behind you. You start to get worried when she starts shutting the blinds too. “Captain?”

She sets a file in front of you and begins explaining. “Though Kevin was joking, he wasn’t wrong. You have impressed me since you came here from the academy. You were the youngest to be promoted to detective, and your persistence hasn’t gone unnoticed. Which is why I think you’re perfect for this particular assignment.”

She nods to the file, and you pick it up, opening it. Your brows furrow at the first page and you look back up at her, “I don’t understand. Philip Coulson died on a helicarrier before the attack on New York even happened. Didn’t Loki kill him or whatever?”

“Originally, yes.”

“Originally?”

“Most if it is redacted and classified, but what was released - specifically for you in this file, turn the page - was that some experimental tech was used and more or less brought him back to life.”

You read exactly that as she says it, but you’re left with more questions than answers with every page turn. “What do you mean specifically for me? How many people know he’s alive?”

She blows out some air, sitting down at her desk to look you in the eye, “Only SHIELD level 7 and above. We are of only a few civilians that know. This cannot leave this room. The only others that know are ones that will be a part of this team that Agent Coulson is putting together alongside Agent Maria Hill and Director Fury.”

Again, more questions. “But...I’m a homicide detective...not SHIELD...” You pause for a moment as you try to form a question with all the information that is now in your mind, “Why me?” is what you come up with.

She shrugs, “That’s a question for Coulson or Hill. I can’t answer it. You’ll work today but after that you’ll be with SHIELD and Coulson,” she nods back to the file, “I suggest you finish reading through that tonight.” She stands up and walks toward the door.

“I’m sorry, Captain, one last question,” she lets go of the door handle and turns around, “what does all this mean for this job? Am I like fired or something?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” she says with a smile, “Agent Hill and I already discussed the technicalities, but basically what will be said is that you’re going undercover with SHIELD for a big operation and you’ll be gone for a few weeks. Which, really, isn’t that much of a lie.”

You nodded, somewhat understanding, “Yes, ma’am. See you in a few weeks, I guess.”

She also nods, smiling, “Likewise, detective.”

Nearing the end of your shift, you’re about to head back to the station when there’s an aggravated call on the scanner. “10-50. These crowds are getting out of hand. More officers needed in Midtown near Grand Central.”

You go back and forth in your head for a moment before deciding to respond, “Dispatch, add 12-David-19 to that 10-50 call. En route from East Village. ETA about 20 minutes.” You turn on your lights and try to get there as fast as you can.

Arriving on scene, you park about four blocks away, at Park and 38th, which is as close as you can get with all the rubble and destroyed buildings. This is the main drag of where most of the Avenger’s fight happened. It’s no surprise that half of New York is here to see the damage, even six months later.

Now on foot, you’re about halfway to Grand Central Station when you hear the breaking of glass and catch some suspicious activity out of the corner of your eye. You follow, talking into your radio, “This is 12-David-19. I’ve got a 10-10P. Kids breaking windows of businesses. It doesn’t look like they’ve stolen anything yet. I’m going to keep an eye on them. Requesting one or two officers for backup if anyone can leave Grand Central Station. 40th street, headed NorthEast.”

You casually follow at a distance until all of a sudden, “Whoa, dudes, check this out!” One of the kids picks up a weapon of some sort. Clearly not of this world and from the Battle, you’re 99% sure. He poses with it and one of his friends takes a picture of him with their phone. “I wonder what this button does.”

“Ahh!” Whatever came out of the weapon hits you directly in the shoulder and you fall to the ground. This is the first time the group of kids notice your presence. They fight for a moment, deciding whether to run or help. A groan from you cuts their argument short and most leave, while two stay.

By what you can tell with your blurry vision, they seem to be brothers. The one walking towards you is clearly friends with the ones that fled, while the other is younger. If you had to guess, you’d say early high school, 14-16, and 12ish for their ages.

You grab your radio and talk into it softly. Hopefully someone will be able to hear you. “Ambulance needed at location of 10-10. Officer down, shot with some sort of alien weapon.”

The older one kneels beside you and takes off his shirt, wrapping it around your wound, attempting to make a tourniquet. You let out a raspy laugh. It’s not quite right, but you appreciate the attempt. “You seem to know what you’re doing.”

You can see the fear still on his face but he smiles nonetheless, “I’ve seen a few medical shows. I think this is right.”

“Anything to slow the bleeding. You’re doing good. What’s your name?”

“Derek Saunders. Am I going to jail?”

“N-no, why would you think that?”

“My friend shot you. Aren’t I an accessory or whatever?”

You shake your head, “You watch cop shows too?” you joke.

“My dad’s a cop. He’s helping at Grand Central right now.”

You cough out another laugh. How convenient. You’re about to tell him to call his dad on your radio when you hear another blast. It feels like it happens in slow motion. You watch as the burst of energy goes up at an angle and hits the building next to where you’re laying. You hear the boy yell something in the opposite direction, you’re assuming at his brother, who most likely got curious and picked up the alien weapon. You see the huge pieces of building falling towards you and Derek.

You let out a scream, though you’re not sure how loud it is due to your blood loss and how tired you’re getting. You close your eyes, knowing the inevitable is going to happen, and just waiting for it. You feel the ground rumble and try to open your eyes to understand what's going on, but you can’t.

Your world goes black.

You wake up to the sound of steady beeping. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the brightness of the fluorescent lights, but once you do you begin to panic. You know this is medical equipment and you’re in a room of some sort, but you’re not sure, something doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t seem like a hospital room.

You hear the whooshing of an automatic door sliding open. “It’s okay, officer. No need to panic. You are in great hands.” A pleasant British voice says to you. It does put you at ease a little.

The brunette seems to be taking your vitals or something at the moment, writing on a clipboard. You clear your throat, “Uh..where am I?”

“Oh of course,” she smiles embarrassedly, “welcome to the Bus. We’re with SHIELD. You’re safe.” she reassures.

“The Bus?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Yes,” your eyes shoot to the new voice, “welcome aboard.”

“Agent Coulson.” You try to sit up, but the pain in your shoulder stops you. You wince and lay back down.

“I assumed our meeting would be under better circumstances, but this’ll have to do.” he says with a smile. “Thank you, Simmons.” he nods at the girl and she leaves.

“What happened?”

“We heard your call on 40th.”

“Were you tracking me?”

“No,” he scoffs, “just making sure you didn’t get hurt before we got to meet you. Kinda failed at that, huh?”

You can’t help but chuckle a little, “Okay, but how the heck did I....” you trailed off, trying to think of how to word your question.

“Not die?” he looks at you, finishing your sentence.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You have Skye to thank for that. To avoid a lengthy explanation, she has the ability to ‘quake’ things apart and stopped the piece of building from falling on you and the young man helping you.”

“What happened to Derek and his brother?”

“They’re safe. And the weapon has been confiscated, now SHIELD property.”

You nodded, content with his explanations. There’s a lull in the conversation and you take the time to actually take in your surroundings. The room you’re in is glass on three sides, the fourth being a wall of shelves for medical items. You look down at yourself, not in a gown like a hospital, but someone’s tank top and shorts. You’d have to ask about that later. You focus on your shoulder, eyes going wide. It still hurts, but looks completely healed. 

“Pretty cool, huh?” you look at Agent Coulson, who is smiling like a proud dad, “you’d lost a lot of blood by the time we found you. We immediately put you in the tissue regeneration pod and got it going on your shoulder. It looks healed, but you’ll have to stay in here for a couple more days and be monitored.”

“Tissue regeneration? How long was I out?”

“From when we found you to getting you to the pod, only a few minutes, but we had to anesthetize you so you wouldn’t wake up during the regeneration, so you've been out for about 16 hours.”

“Oh.” is all you’re able to say, still taking it in. Tissue regeneration. How are you supposed to comprehend that? “Thanks, I guess.”

He nods, “So are you ready to discuss your new position with SHIELD?”

Besides the man being in front of you, you had completely forgotten about your transition from NYPD detective to possibly SHIELD agent? The two of you certainly had a lot to talk about. “Yes, sir.”