#also my brains crossing wires was even *worse* when I was trying to stop confusing the two

[sins-of-the-sea]

Meanwhile...

"How the HELL are you confusing Dessler and Dozle?! They are not only nothing alike, or even LOOK alike, but they're not even from the same show!!"

"They both engage in sci-fi space battles with giant ships and mechs, they're both on the antagonistic side of the heroes, their shows came about roughly the same time, AND their names start with the letter 'D'!! Cut me some slack!"

"It must be embarrassing when you are the bigger nerd than Phoebus without Guy around, Ruixiong."

"Shut the fuck up, Shagua."

[jj-bxby]

if the world was ending ~ jj maybank song fic ✨100 special✨

summary - song fic inspired by ‘if the world was ending’ by jp saxe and julia michaels

gif by @toesure

word count - 4.0k

warnings - mentions of abuse and anxiety, angst!!, fluff

It was impossible to sleep. Hurricane Maggie was the biggest that Kildare had seen in years, and it was horrifying. Looking at your boarded-up windows, you passed a hand through your hair anxiously. You turned your focus back to the flashing television with warnings in bright colors filling the entirety of the display. Exhaling shakily, you turned on your phone. No new messages were shown and the screen soon flashed its “No Signal” warning. Shit.

It had been months since you and JJ decided to break up, and ever since you two had been slowly drifting apart. Even though your separation was technically mutual, it wasn’t. Breaking up with the boy was the last thing you wanted to do, but he thought it was best for both of you. After a year of being together, he still had a difficult time telling you about the mottled bruises on his body that you knew weren’t from biking accidents, about the nightmares he’d have that woke him up at night, about the way he would flinch when you moved too quickly. After hours of tear-filled argument with JJ, you two spent your last night in the same bed, and he was out of your house the next day. Despite still being friendly with the pogues, you didn’t show up to their parties or lake days as much. Seeing JJ flirt with other girls, even if it was 50 yards away from you, still felt like a knife in your heart. And him locking eyes with you during it was just twisting the knife.

JJ wasn’t your JJ anymore. And you weren’t his Y/N. Even though you hadn’t spoken in weeks, you couldn’t think of anything but him when the sirens began blaring. JJ loved to surf the amazing waves that hurricanes would create, and you doubted that Maggie’s waves would be any different. It made your breath catch in your throat when you thought of him out drinking alone, him surfing the hurricane, or, God forbid, him being stuck in his house for the duration of the storm. You felt tears prick at your eyes, knowing that he didn’t have any reason to tell you where he was or that he was safe anymore. Everyone knew Maggie would do damage, especially on The Cut, and your home was right in the danger zone. You could have stayed at Kiara’s place, but you wouldn’t have felt any safer there than you would have at home, alone. Honestly, you couldn’t care less about what happened to your house. It was a house, it can be fixed up or replaced. You laid back down on your bed, closing your eyes as all of the most dangerous scenarios your brain could conjure up flashed behind your eyes. JJ being sucked under by the surge, your home collapsing on you, JJ caught in the exposed wiring, everything scared you. You had no right to him anymore. But goddamnit, the entire fucking island was in panic mode, why couldn’t he just tell you that he was okay? Tears spilled down your cheeks as you maneuvered to settle your body under the covers, the sound of rain pelting against all sides of your home echoing through the room. You could hear one of your windows shatter, and you shut your eyes tightly. You were trying to picture being anywhere else, and what you pictured was JJ’s arms around you, holding you tightly against him while he set his head on your shoulder. It felt shameful to think of JJ as your safe haven when you hadn’t been in his arms in months, but it was the only thing calming you enough to steady your breathing as you choked back sobs.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, JJ still held your heart fully in his hands. And right now, he was squeezing it tighter and tighter, the hole in your chest growing larger by the minute. You had thought that whatever tether attached you to him would be cut once he left you that day, but it just kept pulling. It was tighter than ever now, and the feeling of it pulling your soul from your body grew stronger the longer you stayed away from him, and it was cruel. The feeling made the whole of your body ache — Your head hurt, your chest felt tight, your legs were weak, and your arms were vacant and they pulsed with pain. It was unbearable.

The throbbing in your head worsened as something was flung against your front door. You sat up as the noise came again, even though it startled you, you knew it was likely a tree that fell. You got up to pad down the hall to your open kitchen as sleep evaded you. Trying to flick the lights on was no use, there was no power. Sighing, you grabbed a bottle of water from the counter and cracked it open. There was no alcohol in your house, as much as you truly wanted some right now. You’d given up drinking after splitting with JJ. It would have been to easy to swallow down all of the hurt, and not feeling it would have only been worse. As you walked to your couch to grab a blanket, your door swung open. JJ was standing there, sopping wet. You could see that a mixture of tears and rain stained his cheeks, his red and swollen eyes giving him away.

“Y/N,” JJ whispered, shutting the door behind him. His blue eyes contrasted the redness starkly, and they pierced through me. “I don’t… I was gonna surf the hurricane but I know you would’ve never forgiven me,” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “And I just — I sat in my room and the only thing I could think of was if you were alone. I know you aren’t mine anymore, I know I fucked that up. But I couldn’t stand thinking of you staying here alone.”

You didn’t know what to say. You’d been wanting him back for six months, and now he shows up at your doorstep at two in the morning. In the middle of a hurricane. Dripping wet. You didn’t say anything, you just walked towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him against you while you buried your head in his chest. You half expected him to push you off of him, but instead, he rested his chin on the top of your head before dropping it down to your shoulders. His arms quickly looped around you to hold you just as tightly while hot tears rolled down his face.

“God, I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He said, in between his hiccups and sobs. He wasn’t drunk for once. He was just so tired of fucking up, and he couldn’t handle it anymore.

You’d never seen him like this. He never let you. But now, JJ was breaking down in your arms, and he was trusting you fully. You were the one holding his heart, and he didn’t want it back.

“Shh, J. You’re alright.” You told him, fighting back the tears that welled in your eyes. You pulled back from him just enough to look at his face. “You’re gonna be freezing if you stay in these clothes. You need a shower and something dry to wear, okay?” He nodded sluggishly. “Here, come with me.”

You led JJ to your room and had him wait as you dug around in your closet to find the box of clothes JJ had kept at your place for the nights he stayed over. You debated tossing them out when you found them a couple of weeks after he left, but couldn’t bring yourself to part with them. Instead, you would find yourself digging out his Kildare sweatshirt to wear when you missed him, and his gym shorts to sleep in when it was one of your sleepless nights. Eventually, the clothes lost his scent and stopped being something consolatory. Instead, they became a source of resentment, but no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself to throw them out, they always wound up right back in the corner of your closet. You walked out with the bin, placing it on the bed and rifling through it to find something warm for him, finally settling on sweatpants and a worn Kildare tee.

“I can’t believe you kept those. I always figured you would have burned them or something,” JJ mumbled as he walked up beside you.

“I thought about it,” you said plainly. “I was gonna have ‘Somebody That I Used To Know’ playing and everything.” JJ smiled slightly, knowing you were still half-serious. You tilted your head to look at him and sighed. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and he definitely smelled like malt. You sighed because you knew exactly how little you could trust him in the shower while drunk. Usually, after keggers, you and your boyfriend would shower together so that you could keep an eye on him, as you were usually the soberest between the two of you. You’d wash him as you dodged his kisses, giggling at how lovey he was. JJ had fallen before, the dumbass, so you didn’t want him in there alone, but being alone with him was also the last thing you wanted.

“JJ?” He hummed slightly, swaying. “You aren’t sober enough to shower by yourself are you?”

JJ’s eyes widened at you and his cheeks heated up. He shook his head, knowing damn well that he would fail a sobriety test before it even started. “I mean, I could probably do it or just go without—”

“Nope, you’re swaying just standing here, and you smell like a distillery, J. C’mon.” You start off to your bathroom while JJ trails closely behind. Once you’re in, you turn on the showerhead to let it warm up. You turn around to find JJ with his shirt already off and grabbing a towel from your cupboard, handing you one. “What’s this for?”

He looks at his outstretched arm with confusion. “Shower. We’re gonna shower, right?” He says to you, tilting his head. Goddamnit, he always was a cute drunk.

“J, you’re gonna shower, I’m gonna stay out here.”

“Oh. That’s right.” He sets your towel down on the ceramic of the sink. “So, like... are you gonna let me get undressed now?” You smiled to yourself at how flustered JJ was, and you knew it wasn’t just the booze in his system.

“We dated for a year, JJ, I’ve seen you naked plenty of times,” you say as you hopped up on the sink, dangling your legs off of the edge. You crossed your arms over your chest as the blonde nodded to you before he stripped down to only his boxers. As he walked to check the temperature of the shower you saw the bruises and scars that littered his back, sides, and chest, and you winced. He looked back at you, noticing the look on your face.

“Not used to seeing them anymore, I guess, huh?” He asked quietly. You shook your head at him, tearing your gaze away from the bruises to meet his eyes. “You sure you don’t wanna join me?”

You gulped, shifting your eyes off of him. Honestly, a large part of you wanted to follow him in there and have it be like it was months ago. The other part of you, though, still hurt just thinking of him and burned with rage at the thought of acting as though nothing had happened. “Don’t tempt me, Maybank,” you said quietly while averting your gaze. He nodded softly and pulled off his boxers before stepping in to take his shower. Setting your head in your hands, you exhaled harshly. You were trying to puff out all of your confusion and hurt, and inhaled confidence.

Before you realized what you were doing, you had stripped down to nothing and stepped inside of your shower to join JJ, making him jump slightly when he heard the curtains being pulled.

“Y/N you don’t have to do this, okay? What the hell are you doing?”

“Just let me be here with you JJ, alright? Just let me be happy for a minute. You at least owe me that,” you murmured, pushing his damp hair away from his eyes. The boy nodded at you, his eyes shining brightly as always.

“I owe you way more than that, actually.” You stared at him for a moment, taking in the sight you’d been dreaming of for the past hundred-and-some days. Once your eyes trailed back to meet JJ’s, you turned around to grab the soaps you kept on the shower shelf. Opening one up, you tell JJ to give him your hands before you pour some of the suds into his open palms.

“They haven’t changed since I left,” he says while lathering the soap on to himself. JJ would always use your shampoos and body washes when he stayed over, liking the sweet scent of your soaps rather than the sandalwood option you had purchased for him. You did get rid of that soap, it was about the only thing of his you could bring yourself to throw out. Probably because it wasn’t really his.

You nodded, also scrubbing some of the soap into your hair. He reached out to wipe away some of the suds that were making their way towards your eyes, and it made you grin. JJ dipped his head under the stream of water to wash away the bubbles in his hair before shaking it out. You two did a little swap of places so that you were able to do the same, rinsing the shampoo out before working conditioner into your hair, and twisting it up into a bun. Turning your head to look for the body wash, you see JJ has already grabbed it and poured some out onto a washcloth. He had that damned boyish look in his eye that he always used to have when the two of you were alone together.

Stepping behind you, JJ murmurs into your ear. “I know I owe you for a lot of shit things I did, but can I start with this?” He slid the soapy rag over your stomach, resting it there to wait for your response.

Your head was spinning, and you felt like you were the intoxicated one now. Without thinking, you nodded your head, relaxing your muscles as JJ smoothly moved the rag along the curves of your body. You rested your back against his chest lightly, enjoying the familiar feeling. You could feel JJ’s warm breath against your neck as he washed you, and the realization that this was the most intimate feeling you’d had in months slowly sunk in. You turned your head to look at JJ — He had his lip tucked between his teeth as his eyes shifted to your own. He knew that lip thing was always a turn on for you, even though he wasn’t doing it intentionally this time.

“You okay with this?” He asked with worried eyes, taking his hands off of you.

“Yes, yeah, I’m okay, J. I just missed this,” you sighed, passing a hand over your face. “I missed this more than I thought I did.” You looked away from him, wishing he didn’t move his hands away. “Look, I just don’t want to do this shit and then get hurt again, JJ. You know I loved you, I know you loved me, so why did you leave?”

“Y/N,” he said softly, tilting your head up to look at him. “You’re right, I loved you. I still do. But when I broke up with you, I did it because I was scared. I was scared I’d turn into my father, scared that I didn’t deserve you, scared I’d try and hide things from you like I do with my father,” JJ sighed. “I’m sorry I was so stupid, and I’m sorry that I hurt you. I thought I was doing it because I loved you, and I was saving you from myself. But I was just hurting you. I’m not Luke,” he said while shaking his head, “I won’t let myself be like him. I wouldn’t hurt you, I wouldn’t even think of it. I was running from you because I didn’t think I deserved you. I didn’t believe I deserved you loving me so damn much.” JJ had tears shining in his eyes that matched your own.

“JJ, I sat in my room for months crying over you. I was panicking that you’d be trapped with Luke tonight, I wanted to go find you. I was terrified when you didn’t even say that you were okay,” you whispered, tears tracking down your cheeks. “God, when you came through that door I didn’t know if I was angry or happy. I still love being in your arms, but it makes me so angry to be held by you. I still fucking love you, even though I tried not to.”

Tears slipped out from JJ’s red eyes as he ran his hands through his wet hair. “I still love you too, Y/N. I never stopped. I don’t expect you to take me back — hell, I'd be shocked if you did — but if you want to try again, I want to, too. I want to be better for you.”

You wiped at your eyes, not knowing which drops were from the shower, or which were from your salty tears. You didn’t want to be hurt again, but you knew your heart wouldn’t be whole again unless you were with JJ. You knew he wasn’t Luke. You knew because JJ kissed you sweetly, he talked to you lovingly anytime he got the chance, he held you when your mind was out of control, and he never got angry with you. Of course, you two had had your arguments — but you worked them out together, both of you listening to the other’s concerns and talking out solutions.

“Of course I want you back, JJ.” You shook your head at him and turned the shower off. “But we’re not going to be back at the same place we ended. I have to know I can trust you again. You know that, right?”

JJ nodded at you, sniffling quietly. “I can do that... I can do that, Y/N.” He followed you onto the tiled floor, standing as water dripped off of him with quiet thuds. While you wrapped a towel around yourself and grabbed the other JJ pulled on his sweatpants. You walked over to the boy and draped the towel around his shoulders as he thanked you. JJ gazed adoringly at you, enamored by everything about you. The curve of your lips, the way strands of your hair were pasted to your forehead, the flecks of different colors within your y/e/c irises. He loved the mundane things he could do with you, and he loved the fact that you didn’t step back from him even more.

You cocked your eyebrow at JJ when you notice his staring. His eyes were focused on your lips, and he dipped his head down to level with your own. Your heart fluttered rapidly as your lips met, and it felt like your heart would beat directly out of your chest. His hand slid to cup your cheek, and yours moved to his shoulders. The only thing that mattered to you was JJ’s mouth on yours, and the throbbing pain inside of your head and throughout your body was replaced with a floating feeling. No more pain, just the warmth of JJ’s body enveloping your own. The kiss was soft and effortless — hypnotic, even — and the connection of your lips was reforming the burned bridge that linked you. The sweet scent of your skin made JJ grin and the velvety feel of your skin against his rough fingertips felt familiar; It was everything that he’d been craving for the last few months.

As he swiped his tongue across your lip, you pulled back to rest your forehead against his. His eyes were glittering like ice, as always. The intimacy of the moment felt so perfect, you didn’t want to say anything to ruin it, but you hadn’t gotten any rest all night, and you doubt JJ had either. “JJ, let’s lay down, okay?”

He hummed to you, his grin not faltering. He knew nothing more than kissing would happen tonight, but the thought of just sleeping in the same bed as you made him fidgety. JJ played with the strings on his sweatpants as he waited for you to finish getting dressed, having pulled on his shirt in the meantime. When you called for him to come out to your room he grinned, seeing you sitting on your bed while wearing one of the old tee’s he had left for you. You patted the space on the bed next to you for JJ to lay down with you. Once he walked over and slid under the covers with you, you both laid on your sides to look at each other. You reached for his hand, his fingers lacing with yours as he inspected your small hand enveloped in his.

“You never took that ring off, either,” he mumbled. The cold metal of the ring pressed against your skin, the one with JJ’s initials engraved in it that he had given you for one of your small anniversaries. You saw his matching one on his finger, the black metal had your own initials carved in. You let your gaze fall back on his face, seeing for the first time how tired his eyes were and the darkness underneath them.

“It's weird to lay like this, isn't it?” You asked with a small laugh, dropping JJ’s hand as he cracked a smile and shook his head. He would have slept on a pile of rocks if it meant that he would be close to you. You jumped as the thunder cracked violently and lightning illuminated the room. JJ opened his arms and you crawled over to him, his arms encircling you to hold you against him. Resting your head against his heart, you felt JJ press his lips against your hair and a wave of warmth washed over the both of you.

“I remember just how much you hated storms. I know you could never sleep when they happened,” JJ mumbled to you while tilting his head back to look at your figure, completely relaxed against him in the darkness. You opted to set your chin on his chest to meet his eyes. “Are you glad I came tonight? Or do you hate me even more, now?”

Even in the shadow of midnight, you could still see the sparkle of JJ’s eyes and the outline of his angular cheeks. His eyes searched yours in the second of silence before your response. “I’m so incredibly happy you came, J.” You moved almost imperceptibly, positioning yourself so that your face was slightly above JJ’s while his hands shifted from their previous position down to lay on your hips. You slid your fingertips along his jaw and lowered your lips to meet his as your eyes fluttered closed. JJ kissed you delicately, his lips sliding like velvet against your own. Your hand slid to the back of his head to tangle itself into his golden locks, his lips parting as you did. Butterflies erupted in JJ’s stomach and heat rose to his cheeks — it felt like the first time you had ever kissed him, and his head was dizzy from desire. The two of you laid like that for hours, your mouths moving together carefully, both of you entranced by one another yet again.

Finally, with JJ’s hand locked in yours, your world has stopped crumbling beneath your feet.

~tagging some moots~

@starlightstarkey @starksweasleymain @softstarkey @drewswannabegirl @shawnssongs @hmspxgue @livinglikepogues @jjsredhat @jjsbxtch @jjsmaybcnk @topperthorntons @obx-direction-sos @aesthetic-lyss @jiaraendgame

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [95]

xi. etherea

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: language, angst, anxiety.

Summary: an unexpected reunion shocks you in more ways than one.

a/n: I can’t believe we’re on 95!!! how are we so close to the end omg??!! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

Word of Anders' death and Diyoza’s sacrifice travels quickly, and Cadogan comes to find all of you, shocked and still standing outside the machine room door. You are all led to his personal quarters, encouraged to eat and sleep and rest, with the promise to meet again in a few hours. Miller, Raven, Hope, Jordan, and Niylah all crash in the giant bedroom, but you, Clarke, Octavia, Echo, and Gabriel are all too wired or hungry to sleep, and you sit together in the large dining room of the Shepherd. It’s not long before food, real food, not just nutrition bars, is brought to you, and you look it over before you exchange a look with the others. “They were capable of food like this the whole time? Why the hell were we eating all that bland stuff?”

“Guess they didn't want to waste it on some low level disciples.”

You wish you had enough of an appetite to eat the first real meal that’s been offered to you in ages, but your stomach is tied in knots, wrapped tight with anxiety. You shake your head and plop into a seat beside Clarke, her eyes locked on a wall across the room, and you reach out to squeeze her hand, trying to pull her out of her head. Gabriel and Octavia each take a seat at the table while Echo remains standing, choosing to pace the room as her brain processes the last few hours and what she nearly did before you all arrived. Diyoza’s death hangs over the room like a wet blanket, and though you only knew her for a few months, it still hurts you to know that she’s gone. It hurts you worse when you realize the loss that Octavia and Hope must be feeling. 

Octavia sits and picks at her food, unable to stomach it right now, but Gabriel sits nearby, hungrily eating anything within his reach, looking over all of you with a nod. “Thank God for the Flame. Doubt they'd serve us saji bowls in jail.”

Octavia eventually gives up on the prospect of stomaching anything, dropping her spoon into her bowl and looking at Gabriel in disbelief. “How could you eat right now?”

Echo looks over at Gabriel, reminding you and him of a memory that feels so long ago now, when Orlando was preparing you for your mission to Bardo. “He can always eat.”

If it were any other moment, you’d laugh. But with Diyoza’s death over your head and the looming possibility for severe punishment for both Hope and Echo, you’re too tense to laugh. Clarke must think the same thing, because she abruptly stands from her chair and glances over at the only man in the room. “Gabriel's right. If they didn't believe I had the Flame, we'd be in cells.”

She starts to cross the room, towards the door, and you stand and call out to her. “Where are you going?”

“To wake the others. It's time to go back to Sanctum.”

Gabriel glances her way, pausing his feast to shake his head. “Clarke, we're under house arrest.”

“I'm aware of that. I'm also aware our leverage disappears the moment he puts me in front of that stone.”

You lock eyes with your twin, starting to guess where this is going. “So what are you gonna do?”

“I'm gonna offer to do it as soon as the rest of you are safely back on Sanctum.” 

Octavia stands, instantly disagreeing, “Clarke, they'll kill you.”

Echo adds, “You are not sacrificing yourself for us.”

You stare at your twin, shaking your head, letting her know her plan is completely out of the question. “You’ve lost your mind if you think I’m leaving you here with these people.”

She doesn't get the chance to argue back, because the door behind her slides open, and someone announces, “Make way for the Shepherd.”

You take the few steps separating you and Clarke, so you can stand by her side, and Octavia shifts closer to the two of you. Gabriel stands and moves around the table, along with Echo, all of you united on one side, mentally preparing yourselves for anything. As the disciples step into the room, they move apart, making room for Bill before a few more disciples pull up the rear. As soon as Clarke locks eyes with Bill, she starts, “We need to talk. I'm ready to help you, but only after my friends are…”

She trails off when Cadogan turns and motions towards the door, and confused, you all turn to see what he’s motioning towards, watching as a heavily bearded man in a large coat shuffles into the room. It takes a second for you to recognize him, your eyes finding the freckles along his face and the warm eyes beneath an unruly mop of hair, but as soon as you recognize him, you nearly collapse, reaching out for Clarke as you mutter, “Bellamy?”

He nods a little, confirming what you already knew, and you swear all of the air leaves your lungs. Your knees feel weak, tears springing to your eyes and spilling over your face as your body starts to move, you and Octavia both walking towards him. But in doing so, you trigger a reaction from the room full of guards, all of them lifting weapons towards you, freezing you in place. You stare at him, stunned, and your brain struggles to form more words, stumbling over a long list of questions before you manage to gasp, “How?”

Echo, sounding just as shocked, adds, “We saw you die.”

Octavia shifts a little, and you can hear her sniffle as she stares at her big brother, in awe to see that he is alive and well. “It's hard to keep the Blakes down.”

The room is silent, no one sure what to say, but from the corner of your eye, you see Clarke glancing at you and Octavia, able to see that the two of you are practically buzzing, unable to hold back your reunions much longer. She turns her gaze to Bill, using her status as the chosen one to demand, “Let them hug him.”

He stares at her for a long second, and you think he’s going to say no, but then a smile crosses his features and he commands, “Stand down.”

You turn to look at Octavia, whose eyes are on you and you nod towards Bellamy, knowing she likely wants to hug her brother first. She smiles at you in thanks before stepping forward and tugging him into a hug, and you watch on with a smile, happy to see the reunion. Octavia steps away and makes room for you to hug him, and you glance at Clarke before you do, exchanging a silent conversation. Should you warn him? Clarke gives you an imperceptible nod, both of you aware of the dangers of Bellamy accidentally slipping up because he’s not in the loop. You’re lucky Gabriel was in the room when Clarke arrived, able to clue her in to play along, saving all of your lives as you work to get off Bardo. You step forward and pull Bellamy into your arms, relishing in the feel of him, smiling as his arms wrap around your back, returning the hug. A hug that is five years, three months, and two days in the making. A hug that you have longed for since you first arrived on Skyring. A hug you nearly drowned for, learned to play disciple for. You want nothing more than to kiss him, whisk him away to some private room and tell him everything, show him how much you’ve missed him, but you know you’ll have time for that later. Right now, you have an audience and you have a mission, so you lean forward and whisper into his ear, “The key is the Flame. They think it's still in Clarke’s head, say nothing.”

You pull away with a smile, your eyes never leaving Bellamy as Cadogan announces, “I hope that now you're ready to help us, Clarke. Too much blood has been spilled. Each death is a child of Earth who won't transcend. I'll give you time to reunite while we make preparations.”

Clarke nods in agreement, and you glance at your twin, tears on her face, just as happy to see her best friend alive. Cadogan turns and starts to leave the room, and just as he reaches the door, Bellamy speaks for the first time, his words shocking you all into silence. “My Shepherd.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open a little, and you see Clarke and Octavia’s smiles drop as you all turn to stare at Bellamy, who has now turned towards Bill. “There's something you should know: Clarke doesn't have the Key. The Flame was destroyed, I'm sorry.”

You swear you’ve never been more stunned in your entire life.

And it’s only later, after Cadogan has the disciples drag everyone into a cell, after your fiance has betrayed you, that you realize something is wrong. You were so blinded by your joy at seeing him alive that you didn't even stop to really process his appearance. Not just the long hair or thick clothes, but the blank expression he gave all of you as soon as he stepped in the room. Any other time he would have burst in and tugged you and Octavia both into hugs, initiating the hugs first, not waiting for you to come to him. But now he just looks at all of you as if you’re a stranger.

And the realization hurts. The betrayal hurts too. You thought Bellamy joining Pike or not telling you about Echo was the worst thing he could ever do to you. But now you see that this is. 

Whatever the hell this actually is.

You pray to the Universe that it’s a fluke. He’s playing a part, knows something that you don't.

But something deep in your gut is telling you it’s not a fluke, and he’s not paying an angle.

Deep down, you know that Bellamy is lost to you.

Now, he’s a believer.

Now, he’s a disciple.

Which means that now, he is your enemy. 

-

next chapter

[just-come-baek]

get in, loser 1

Pairing: Taeyong x female!reader

Themes: smut | mafiaboss!taeyong | carthief!reader

Word count: 6.2k

Summary: How to get noticed by the most dangerous man in the country? I guess stealing his sport car and dying it hot pink must catch his attention.

Warnings: car theft | speeding | alcohol consumption | jaehyun being taeyong’s henchman | hardcore brainstorming | taeyong being touchy | more in next chapters

A/N This series will be around 5 chapters long. New updates shall be posted once every two weeks I hope. Also, @starlightbebes challenged me into posting chapter 1 on Taeyong’s birthday, so I won. ^^ Pay up.

***

Considering it was Saturday night, the city seemed oddly serene. Any other night, I’d witness some wild shit, yet tonight, it was quite peaceful. No prostitutes were arguing with no-cooperative customers, no inexperienced adolescents throwing up in the public trash cans, no aggressive football spectators fighting with their rivals.

Despite the calm aura, the city was vibrant; colorful neon signs were blinking, inviting people into different liquor establishments, cars honking on drunken pedestrians jaywalking across the streets, a few undiscovered musicians playing on the main square with plenty of tourists recording them.

Each establishment promised an unforgettable night, and for some people, it would be a real dilemma to pick one among such a rich palette of entertainment. I, on the other hand, had a pretty well-defined plan of stealing a fancy car – a precious possession of one, infamous crime lord in the country.

It wouldn’t be my first car theft, yet it surely was going to be the most meaningful one. Everyone in town knew that Lee Taeyong was up to no good. When it came to his personal taste, though, it was impeccable. The most expensive, the most extravagant, the fastest cars belonged to him, so stealing one of his astounding vehicles would be the cherry on top of my villainous career.

Rumor had it, tonight he’s celebrating in his VIP club – the Cherry Bomb; if you ask me, its name is a little bit tacky, but who I am to judge? The crowd of people trying to get inside was enormous, so despite its name, the local must’ve been quite profitable.

Being the most dangerous crime lord in the country must be a pretty time-consuming profession – I wouldn’t expect him to get to the club before midnight. Regardless of what must’ve been on his to-do list tonight, his schedule was bound to be packed.

It was almost 1 o’clock when matte black carbon-fibred McLaren P1 LM with “DRAGON” written on its registration plate pulled over in front of the club; in an instant, people in the queue grew silent, mesmerized by the handsome man who nonchalantly got out of the car, tossing the keys to the valet boy.

Lee Taeyong was just as good-looking as he was deadly – with his styled-up tousled vibrant-red hair, ripped black jeans, and a top-brand leather jacket, he made people turn their heads despite their gender and sexual orientation. In all honesty, I did my research, I had dozens of pictures of him, and I knew what to expect. The pictures didn’t do him justice, though. His natural beauty was enchanting, but when topped with his charisma and cocky confidence, it was a lethal mixture.

When Taeyong strolled inside his establishment, I, just like the other people who were in rapture, could finally get my shit together. It was remarkably difficult to remain in the right state of mind when he was within your eyesight, and tonight, it was going to be my most significant theft, so I couldn’t get distracted.

“You can do this,” I encouraged myself before running across the street, ready to execute the first stage of my plan.

I didn’t dare to doubt my skills for even a second. Tonight I would succeed, and Taeyong would have to call an Uber to get back to his grand mansion.

***

It’s been three days since my ingenious heist, and I was getting impatient. I wanted Taeyong to find me and talk to me, yet I was waiting and waiting, and he didn’t seem interested in getting his car back. It was actually disappointing. I couldn’t contain my curiosity; I just needed to see his reaction after I had his car tuned. I had made sure to be caught on their CCTV, so he would quickly track my traces, but it only proved me he was working with rookies.

Checking the time on my wristwatch, I walked into the run-down car repair shop, wanting to sneak one last peek at my masterpiece before I’d put a cover over it so Taeyong would gasp upon the big reveal. The new car paint looked amazing – Doyoung, my friend and a mechanic, did a great job dying it hot pink. Too bad, he was too scared to wait for Taeyong with me. I couldn’t blame him, though. Taeyong was known for his short temper, and it was understandable that Doyoung didn’t want to stick around to witness Taeyong’s wrath.

“What is taking him so long?” I asked myself as I plopped down in a ripped leather armchair, cracking a cold one. “How long does it take them to find the guys who don’t want to be found?” I wondered, pulling my phone, scrolling through the new content on my social media.

It was taking them forever, but when the sun was slowly setting behind the horizon, I could hear a vehicle park in front of the car repair shop. Judging by the engine’s roars, the car was expensive.

It must’ve been Taeyong himself.

“Finally,” I hollered as I got on my feet, throwing my slowly dying phone on the armchair. If the crime lord showed up, he needed to be welcomed accordingly. Taeyong was a royalty amongst gangers, and he deserved the best treatment.

Midnight blue Bugatti Chiron registered under “FURY” stopped on the parking lot, and I waited for Taeyong to get out. Seconds passed, and he was still sitting comfortably in the vehicle, building the tension. I didn’t feel stressed, though. Although we hadn’t been properly introduced, I knew a whole lot about him – he was famous for his rage. However, right now, he had to be impressed rather than enraged. Or at least, it was the emotion I hoped for him to feel.

Only a complete psycho, and me, would dare to steal one of his automobiles.

The descending sun was blinding me, and when I raised my hand to block the direct sunlight, the car doors opened. Even in daylight, Taeyong looked like a five-course meal. Today, he was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a Gucci T-shirt; the outfit was simple, yet on him, it looked elevated.

“Very impressive,” he shouted loudly before he coolly walked over. “You’ve got balls, I have to give you that,” he added, and I smirked, considering his words as a compliment. Men of high positions often have trouble complimenting people, let alone women, and Taeyong didn’t seem to be an exception.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, too,” I answered politely, offering him a handshake, which he contemptuously denied. “I must say, I expected to meet you sooner,” I jabbed, but Taeyong only looked at me condescendingly before he walked inside, impatient to check up on his stolen property.

“My people located you yesterday morning, but I wanted to see you in person, and you must know, I am a busy person,” he explained, studying the shabby interior. “No one steals from me.”

“Well… I already have, and it was easier than I previously assumed,” I answered confidently before approaching the cover. “I have a surprise for you, are you ready?” Taeyong didn’t even flinch, and I considered his indifference as an agreement. With one quick pull, I uncovered the vehicle, allowing him to see my teeny tiny change. “I hope you like pink.”

Taeyong grew silent.

I had told Doyoung to change the car paint to hot pink, yet Taeyong didn’t even blink. I expected him to get pissed or, at least, annoyed, but when I looked at his features, I couldn’t see any reaction.

“Actually, pink is my favorite color,” Taeyong emotionlessly announced, and I only stared at him in utter confusion.

What the fuck?

“Well… I expected a different reaction,” I spoke, the wires in my brain incapable of coming up with anything intelligent. A guy with such a foul reputation favors the color pink.

Imagine my shock.

Apparently, Taeyong is a man of many layers.

“Who are you?” Taeyong condescendingly asked as he sat comfortably in the armchair, putting my phone on the armrest. Calmly, he leaned backward, crossed his legs, and entwined his fingers over his bent knee, waiting for me to tell him everything he wanted to know.

“I think you already know who I am,” I stated, and he just stared at me intensely. His people must’ve done a background check on me, yet he still wanted to hear it again. Stealing his car was one thing, but disrespecting him about such trivial matter seemed way worse. Doing something so risky and bold was admirable in his eyes, but wasting his time like this was just annoying, so I simply did what was expected of me.

I told Taeyong about my childhood – how I spent my allowance on go-kart races; it was my escape whenever my father got drunk and picked up fights with my mom. Then, I disclosed my secrets on how I began stealing cars – when I was seventeen, because of excessive drinking, my father needed a liver transplant, and it was the only way of getting money remotely quickly. Later, at the age of twenty-one, I participated in my first street race, though this time, it wasn’t because I needed money – I did it because I enjoyed the thrill.

“How did you steal it? How, on Earth, did you go inside the club without any of my workers noticing you?” Taeyong asked, and although he must’ve already concluded my operating plan, he wanted me to explain it myself. This time around, I didn’t even hesitate.

“I blended in,” I shortly answered with a shrug. “It wasn’t that difficult to find out all the information I needed to get inside unnoticed. I checked all your staff’s social media accounts; it took me like… three days of stalking to get their names and work schedules. That night, I sneaked into the club right after your arrival, and when somebody asked me something, I told them I was busy doing the thing the manager wanted me to do. They just assumed I am the new girl. Normally, I don’t do things like that when I steal a car, but this time around, I wanted to do something extra. Are you impressed?” I challenged, and Taeyong cocked his eyebrow, deeply in thought.

“Huh, last question. Why have you done it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I inquired rhetorically, and Taeyong didn’t even bother to give me a proper answer. He seemed bored, and it was making me feel a little bit fed-up. “Well… in all honesty, I am sick and tired of freelancing, I want to work for you,” I elaborated, and Taeyong just chuckled as if I just told him a hilarious joke. Why was he laughing? It was a reasonable proposition, and besides, I’ve already proven my amazing skills.

“I’m not recruiting, sorry,” Taeyong spoke when he stood up and glanced at his pink vehicle. Well… it was a harsh rejection. “You have one day to return my car, or I will have my henchman kill you,” he added, walking up to me until he invaded my personal space.

“Asshole,” I whispered loud enough for him to hear me. Taeyong already knew what I was capable of, yet for some reason, he still decided not to give me a chance. It was a dick move, and I couldn’t let him have the last word.

“You’re feisty. I like that,” Taeyong said at last, “Let’s meet on Friday, at the Superhuman. Midnight. Don’t be late.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, and don’t forget to bring my fucking car.”

***

“She’s here,” Jaehyun told Taeyong as soon as the gatekeeper forwarded the message. “I can’t believe you didn’t kill her back then,” he added matter-of-factly, remembering the infamous car theft. No matter how many times he thought about it, he couldn’t comprehend how someone could be so stupid to mess with his boss. What puzzled him even more, however, was the fact that Taeyong seemed rather impressed by this woman’s actions.

“I was surprised too,” Taeyong answered honestly. “Can you believe she had the audacity to ask me to recruit her?”

Jaehyun was stupefied. “Well… are you going to?”

“Actually, I am not sure,” Taeyong replied hesitantly. It wasn’t how the regular recruitment process worked, but the woman intrigued him. She had seemed quite keen on working for him, and he was curious how much she wanted this job. “I haven’t decided yet,” Taeyong added, and Jaehyun looked at his boss in concern; Taeyong was impulsive in his decisions, and the fact that he hasn’t made up his mind yet was rather peculiar.

“You can’t be serious,” Jaehyun commented, hoping for Taeyong to come back to his senses. This wasn’t the way the things were dealt with here; if someone dared to mess with the leader, death was the kindest thing they could hope for. If other members found out about it, they might’ve thought Taeyong was getting soft. She disrespected the leader, and she ought to have faced the consequences.

“Bring her in, Jaehyun,” Taeyong ordered, dismissing Jaehyun’s concerns.

“Of course.”

“I expected to meet you in one of the VIP lounges, not in your office,” I spoke the second Taeyong’s henchman led me into an expensive-looking office at the back of the club. “You should’ve given me heads-up, I would’ve dressed accordingly,” I carried on, glancing down at my not suitable clothes.

My outfit consisted of a cropped T-shirt, denim shorts, fishnets, and a pair of combat shoes, and it did not look appropriate under these circumstances. I was expecting a flirty conversation in Taeyong’s natural habitat of leather lounges, expensive drinks, and beautiful girls competing amongst each other for his attention, but instead, he surprised me with a job interview in his private office at the back of his club. If only I had known, I would’ve dressed suitably.

“Leave us alone, Jaehyun,” Taeyong spoke in an authoritarian tone, and his associate left the room without any further comment.

The second I heard the doors click, I let out a breath of relief. For some reason, the henchman’s presence gave me chills. It was difficult to remain composed with Taeyong in such close vicinity, however, when accompanied by the other dangerous man, I felt uncomfortably anxious.

Taeyong’s piercing gaze was fixated on me, and it made me blush a little bit. He was hot as hell, and in all honesty, any woman would react this way if alone with him.

With one fluid motion, he commanded me to sit, and with a sheepish smile on my face, I obliged.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” I started, but Taeyong only smirked, sliding an A4 format envelop across the desk. “What is this?” I asked in confusion, but Taeyong just sat back, entwining his fingers together, enjoying my reaction.

Gang members didn’t sign employment contracts – that’d be silly.

“You admittance,” he started, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to understand what the hell was going on. “Inside the envelope, you’ll find all the necessary information about your new assignment. Bring this car to me within a week, and you’ll be officially the newest addition to the family.”

It was interesting.

Taeyong had already seen me in action, yet he needed another proof of my qualifications. Actions speak louder than words, but my most recent ones screamed and ought to echo in his ears for years!

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s just a regular procedure, don’t take it personally,” Taeyong added, but I wasn’t exactly buying that. There must’ve been something that he didn’t tell me. There was a catch, it must’ve been. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have that playful spark in his eyes the whole time.

 “I’ll text you the meeting location sometime this week,” he added with a genuine smile, and I didn’t even dare to question how he got my number. “Good luck, doll,” smirking, Taeyong whispered, and I started questioning his intentions.

It must’ve been a set-up.

“I look forward to hearing from you,” I answered respectfully, quickly standing up, wanting to run out of the club. Curiosity was killing me; I had to peek inside the envelope, but I couldn’t do it in front of Taeyong. I hoped he acknowledged me as fearless and confident, and I couldn’t allow him to change his opinion about me. One hesitant glance at the papers could ruin my image, and I couldn’t let it happen.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t be serious! Tell me you didn’t recruit her,” Jaehyun angrily stormed into Taeyong’s office, fed up with the leader’s decision. The girl left the club alive, and it’s not the outcome he anticipated. Jaehyun would break her neck if only Taeyong told him to. Letting her scot-free was a mistake, and it was crazy that Jaehyun was the only one to realize it.

“Calm down, Jaehyun,” Taeyong announced casually, making Jaehyun a bit confused. “I did give her an assignment, but don’t you worry about it. She’s gonna fail. She’s good, but not that good,” Taeyong added, and both of them smirked mischievously.

***

I’ve never been more anxious. My grip on the envelope was tight, my knuckles turning white, and I really had mixed feelings about opening it. Taeyong’s mischievous smirk couldn’t have been a good omen.

On the other hand, I couldn’t let the stress weaken me, so I did what any other person in my shoes would do – I went to the liquor store and bought the biggest bottle of gin they had. Regardless of what Taeyong had assigned me to do, it would be easier to digest when drunk.

Then I hailed the cab and dialed Doyoung’s number. He picked up after the fourth ring. “I’m coming over,” I quickly said, notifying him before my arrival. As my friend, he would help me if the alcohol was to fail.

“You’re alive, so I assume it didn’t go that bad,” Doyoung spoke when he opened the doors and let me in. Not bothering to greet him, I walked passed him and shoved the bottle of gin into his hands. “Are we celebrating?” He asked, kicking the doors shut, “please, tell me we’re celebrating.”

“I don’t know,” I answered, plopping into an old armchair, throwing the envelope on the coffee table. “We’re about to find out. Taeyong gave me another assignment, but pour me a drink first. I’m not sure I can handle it sober,” I explained, and Doyoung knew what to do. Within a minute, he was back with two Scooby-doo mugs and a bottle of tonic.

“It can’t be that bad,” he started as he sat down on the couch on the other side of the coffee table, pouring us drinks, which were basically 80% alcohol. “I mean… you’ve stolen his car; can it get any more challenging than that?” Doyoung asked, and I actually had to admit he was right. Taeyong’s the most dangerous crime lord in the country; as long as he didn’t make me steal Kim Jongun’s tank, I should be fine. However, on the second thought, I didn’t know Taeyong that well, so the guess might’ve not been that farfetched.

“I don’t want to open this envelope,” I confessed as I picked up the mug with Shaggy’s face and took a large gulp.

“Do you want me to do that for you?” Doyoung proposed, and I nodded. Perhaps if Doyoung read it out for me, it would’ve been easier to accept my fate. “Because you’re all stressed out, I’m all fidgety too,” Doyoung added before he grabbed the envelope, looking inside.

“What does it say?” I inquired in curiosity, hoping to hear some good news.

“It looks like you gotta steal a yellow Ferrari LaFerrari,” Doyoung started, as he pulled out a picture of my target. OK, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, it was doable. “And it belongs to someone called Yuta,” he spoke, and I jumped to my feet and snatched the papers out of Doyoung’s hands in disbelief.

It must’ve been a sick joke.

“It can’t be,” I whispered, refusing to comprehend what Taeyong wanted of me. He was a complete psycho if he thought I could steal one of Yuta’s cars.

“Do you know this dude?” Doyoung inquired, reaching for his cup with Fred.

“Do I know this dude?” I deadpanned, trying not to burst out in tears. I was royally screwed. “It’s Nakamoto Yuta. He’s the royalty of Yakuza. He’s basically Taeyong’s biggest rival,” I explained, and it got Doyoung speechless.

“Well… it sucks,” he whispered, downing his drink, ignoring the burn. “What are you gonna do?”

“Good question,” I replied, coping Doyoung’s actions, drinking my gin to the very last drop. “Even if I manage to steal his car, how am I supposed to get it across the border? It’s a suicide mission.”

“Is there anything else in the envelope?” Doyoung asked, and I put all the papers on the coffee table. Among documents about Yuta’s bio, there was a check for 20 grand written under my name. “Mr. Bad Boy must’ve felt generous,” he commented, but I didn’t find it amusing. Mr. Bad Boy, as Doyoung eloquently put it, would kill me if I failed this mission.

“Generous or not, I’m gonna be dead if I don’t bring this car to him within a week,” I muttered, feeling helpless. I lacked ideas on how to conduct the theft successfully, and the time was slowly running out.

“You can do this,” Doyoung stated confidently, not even a sliver of hesitation in his tone. He was absolutely sure of my skills, and I wished I had as much faith in myself as he had in me. “We have no time to waste; pack everything you need, we’re going to Japan.”

“Do you have a plan, though?”

“We’ll come up with one on our way.”

***

Doyoung was right; we had no time to waste. God, in times like these, I was really thankful he was my friend. Right now, when I was a nervous wreck, he was the voice of reason. If it wasn’t for him, I’d get wasted and pass out in the poodle of my own vomit. Thanks to him, I was only slightly tipsy, but productive as fuck. We made a stop by my apartment and his car repair to get everything necessary, and then took a train to the harbor.

The first ferry to Japan was leaving the docks at 7 o’clock. The journey was about to last more or less 8 hours, it was plenty of time to finish the entire bottle of gin and come up with a foolproof plan on how to steal that Ferrari.

“How about you seduce Yuta, and he lets you borrow his car?” Doyoung voiced his seventh plan this morning, and in comparison to his previous ideas, it actually seemed doable. “It’s great in its simplicity,” he added, and I shook my head in disappointment. Even if I was his type, how was I supposed to bullshit my way into his pants without any Japanese skills?

“How about you seduce Yuta, and when he’s busy drilling your ass, I’ll sneak into his mansion and snatch the car?” I proposed, and Doyoung fake-gagged at the thought of doing this. Or maybe, he just has had one shot of gin too many. One could never be sure…

“How about you seduce Yuta and talk him into doing it in his car, and when you’re about to do it, I knock him out with a rock?”

“How about we go to Yuta’s club, and you challenge him in a singing duel, and you win the car fair and square?”

“How about we find Yuta’s doppelganger to steal his identity and pay him to steal the car for you?”

“How about we kidnap Yuta and keep him hostage until they give us the car?”

“How about we hypnotize Yuta into making him lend us his car?”

Truthfully, we struggled a lot while trying to figure out the best way to prove my worth to Taeyong. Stealing Yuta’s car wasn’t an easy assignment – some people would say it was impossible. Thankfully, we came up with one solution throughout our drunken brainstorm that wasn’t that bad…

We were so drunk that I couldn’t actually remember who came up with this idea. One second, Doyoung and I were brainstorming, then, a moment later, someone woke us up because we reached the shore.

“Come on, we have no time,” Doyoung said as he picked up his bag, urging me to pick up mine and get off the ferry. I rubbed my eyes and looked at him, wondering how, on Earth, he wasn’t hungover. “You’ve got only six days left…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I answered, groaning.

I had an unpleasant feeling in my gut, telling me this week was going to be awful, but at least we had figured out a plan. It was far from perfection, but with proper execution, I could pull this through.

***

By sheer luck, I managed to accomplish my seemingly impossible mission. Though I didn’t fully believe in the plan, we didn’t make a single mistake, and after three days of data analyzing and one night of the actual heist, we were on our way back.

Hopefully, it was the only recruitment assignment that Taeyong wanted me to fulfill.

On Friday, one hour before the meet-up, Taeyong sent me the location.

In an hour, I’d become one of his people, and I wanted to look worthy of the new position. Wisely, I chose my best outfit, deciding to wear a pair of black leather trousers, a modest white button-down shirt, and fancy boots on a 10 centimeters heel. I looked formal, but with a fierce twist, and I gave off that cutthroat businesswoman vibe. I lived for this outfit. And to top it all, I carefully applied make-up, making sure to highlight all of my features.

I expected to meet with Taeyong in his extravagant mansion, yet he surprised and scared me at the same time with his decision. This gig cost me a lot of stress, and the last thing I wanted was to meet with the most dangerous thug in the country in a deserted meeting point in the city outskirts.

Trying to remain calm, I sighed to shake off all types of negative thoughts. Terrifying scenarios were playing in my head in which Taeyong shot me in the head and dumped my body somewhere in the woods. Taeyong was a dangerous gangster, but I believed he had the honor and would not kill me without any concrete reason.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same thing about his henchmen – this Jaehyun guy in particular. It was obvious the guy hated me and was pissed with Taeyong because of me. I didn’t fancy meeting with him, it would be best if Taeyong and I could talk alone.

Punctually, I arrived at the meeting point. Nonchalantly, I got out of the vehicle, shut the doors close, and leaned against the hood, waiting for Taeyong to appear. The night was warm, yet a little bit windy – it was perfect for the employment celebration.

Taeyong was running a bit late, but I didn’t mind. Besides, he was the most wanted thug in the country; he wasn’t running late – anyone he was meeting with was just too early.

So I waited.

Thankfully, I had plenty of time to psych myself up, so when I heard an engine roar in the distance, I didn’t panic. I was confident enough to face Taeyong and genuinely smile in response to his compliments. This theft was epic, and I expected to hear how impressed he was of me. It was the only reaction I hoped to get.

I was right, it had to be Taeyong. Who else could’ve been in the jet black Audi R8 Spyder registered under “WHIPLASH”?

Having parked right beside me, Taeyong got out of the car, carefully inspecting the Ferrari. His focused eyes were studying the vehicle’s features as if trying to tell it indeed belonged to Yuta. In the meantime, I studied Taeyong’s outfit.

Tonight, he was wearing all black: a pair of high combat shoes, black cargo pants, a see-through shirt, and a leather jacket. The outfit was on point, but when topped with his new haircut – tousled and of powder pink color, Taeyong looked like a model. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out that modeling companies contact him every once in a while to recruit him.

“How did you do it?” Taeyong asked, his tone telling me he didn’t believe in my talent. Well… that hurt a little bit, but proving him wrong gave me a lot of pleasure at the same time.

“It wasn’t easy,” I started, not really wanting to spill the beans; especially, when the story wasn’t as impressive as he might’ve thought. “I really wanted this job, so I had to figure out a plan. You know how it is… you gotta discover your enemies’ weaknesses and use them to your advantage.”

“It doesn’t answer my question, doll,” Taeyong remarked, smirking at the nickname he once again used to refer to me. It must’ve really stuck with him. “I gotta be honest with you, I expected you to fail, but you actually did it. I’m impressed,” he added, and I smiled, swiping my hair to the back in a nonchalant manner.

“What can I say? I’m really good at what I do,” I replied, looking into his eyes, trying to remain in the confident pose. “Now, it would be a mistake not to hire me,” I trailed off, making Taeyong smirk again. He was gorgeous, but when that mischievous smirk decorated his face, he was just breath-taking.

With his hands in the pockets, Taeyong took a few nonchalant steps toward me and placed his hands on the hood of the car, leaning in, trapping me between his arms. His stern glace was trying to penetrate my mind, to read me, but I managed to remain calm.

I wanted to work for him, not to hop on his dick, and though the second option seemed rather tempting, I had my priorities set straight.

“From the moment I saw you, I knew you were special,” Taeyong whispered in a husky voice, and I looked up into his eyes, swallowing hard. He was indisputably intimidating, but I couldn’t let his charm overtake me. “You seem troublesome, but at the same time, awfully skilled.”

“You bet,” I answered, trying to ignore the fact that Taeyong just pushed his leg between my thighs, inching closer and closer with every second. “Is that how you treat all your employees?” I asked, trying not to lose my cool.

“They’re not employees, they’re family,” Taeyong clarified, and I rolled my eyes, actually expecting his kind of answer from him. “And that would be weird if I treated them this way, wouldn’t it?”

“They wouldn’t be your family, but your orgy if you ask me,” I spoke matter-of-factly, waiting for his reaction since I doubted anyone was this frank with him.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re gonna be a huge pain in the ass?” Taeyong asked, hopefully not expecting an answer. “Quite talented one,” he added, dropping his head down to my neck, placing a delicate peck against my sensitive skin.

“But hey, it’s what keeps everything fresh and exciting,” I offered, suggesting looking on the bright side of these circumstances. “So… speaking of my recruitment…” I mentioned, internally wishing for Taeyong to keep his hands to himself. I was trying to be professional, and it was incredibly difficult with the boss, basically making out with my neck.

“One more test and you’re officially a new addition to the family,” Taeyong said sternly, finally pulling out. “You said you race, I want to see you in action,” he added, and I bit my bottom lip due to stress. Seriously? Another test? He got to be kidding me. “Don’t worry; it’s a formality at this point.”

Honestly, his words didn’t cheer me up at all. I had stolen his car, and then I had been to Japan to steal his rival’s car. And now, he wanted me to pass another test. Come on!

“All you gotta do is to give me a lift back to my mansion,” Taeyong announced, somewhat excited to see my driving performance. “The route takes up to 20 minutes, so I’m gonna give you ten. It sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

“What about your car? I wouldn’t leave it here if I were you,” I remarked, trying to make out a logical answer. I wouldn’t leave my bike here, let alone a sports car, knowing how much crime was going on in this particular part of the city.

“Normally, I’d not, but you see… I caught a flat tire,” Taeyong explained, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to see which tire was pierced. I didn’t notice any damage, but then, Taeyong pulled out his gun, shooting through the left back tire, making his point. “It was an exceptionally unfortunate accident,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at him.

He was a mad man.

“OK, fine, get in, loser,” I said, inviting him inside the car. Having sat comfortably and fastened our seatbelts, Taeyong put the location into the GPS. “Are you gonna time me?”

“Of course,” Taeyong answered, extending his arm, staring at his expensive wristwatch. “You have ten minutes, starting… now.”

Carefully, I chose one of my playlists before driving off.

It was a wild ride. I was driving twice as fast as the road signs were telling me to while singing my heart out to Backstreet Boys’ biggest hits “Everybody” and “I Want It That Way”. At this point, Taeyong was probably questioning whether it was safe to get in the car with me, or not. Though I encouraged him to join me in this carpool karaoke, yet he decided not to.

The navigation system was giving me weird directions, trying to lead me into congestion. Listening to my driver’s instinct, I sped through some self-discovered shortcuts. Judging my Taeyong’s expression, he had no idea what I was doing.

In the middle of “I Want It That Way”, I had to speed up even more. Each song is about four minutes long, so I still had about three minutes left to make it to the mansion, and though I seemed rather calm, I was out of my mind.

I’ve gone too far to lose right now. I couldn’t let this short race end up my flourishing career. I had stolen two cars within two weeks, and both vehicles belonged to the most dangerous men in their countries. I couldn’t lose now.

Breaking probably all traffic laws, I managed to reach Taeyong’s mansion before the boys got to finish the last chorus.

“You’re a triple threat, doll,” Taeyong said, and I wondered what the third admirable thing about me was. Undoubtedly, he was impressed with my theft and racing skills, yet I didn’t have a clue what was the third factor. “You’re officially one of us,” he added, and I smiled widely, ecstatic to finally hear his words of approval.

After so much testing, I finally proved my worth to him, and he took me under his wings.

Having pulled out his phone, Taeyong gave me a few instructions. “From this moment onward, Lucas is your direct superior, you gotta report everything back to him; I texted you the address. Be there first thing in the morning. Better be on time, Lucas doesn’t like it when people are late.”

“Thank you, Taeyong.”

“Don’t thank me, doll,” Taeyong replied, opening the doors, ready to exit the vehicle. “You have no idea what you’ve got yourself into.”

“I’ve got one more question…” I hollered, and Taeyong sat back in the passenger seat, waiting for my final inquiry. “What am I supposed to do with this car?” I asked, and Taeyong shrugged nonchalantly, suggesting it was not his problem.

“Get rid of it, obviously,” Taeyong answered, confirming my suspicions. “It belongs to Yuta, and the last thing I want is him realizing that I have it. Burn it down, dump it in the lake, I don’t care, just make sure it’s not gonna be found.”

“Great,” I whispered, losing enthusiasm with each voiced letter. It was problematic to bring it here, yet disposing of it was going to be even worse.

“Don’t lose your spirit, doll,” Taeyong added, leaning down towards me. With his right hand, he raised my chin and pressed a delicate peck against the skin of my cheek. “Good luck, make your daddy proud,” he whispered before exiting the car, shutting the doors close.

Though Taeyong was long gone, I was sitting in the vehicle, not leaving the driveway. What the hell just happened? Not only was he using this stupid nickname, but then he dropped that daddy bomb. I was not prepared for this.  

[sierracolorstheworldofwords]

Yandereplier x anxious reader

An: Idk if anyone is going to read this but if you do and somehow like it HIT that reblog button babey! And also hit me up with a request if u want. Anyway, this was a request from Wattpad, and I have more one shots on there! The name of said wattpad is in my bio! :3 ALSO TRIGGER WARNING: Reader has an anxiety attack! So if that triggers you or anything please skip this! And read some of my other fics bc yes I’m plugging!

It all started with that nightmare.

Yan and you sat underneath a cherry tree in full bloom, each pink petal a promise, each soft flower a gentle declaration of love.

The sky was a beautiful island blue, and the clouds looked like they were painted onto the sky, just for you. You could see patches of them through the dark, curved branches of the tree, and feel the warm sun, sweet like honey, shining on your face.

Everything was.. perfect. You wished you could stop time forever, make this moment into a crystal bubble, preserve it in a snow globe forever.

"I have to tell you something." Yan said suddenly, fingers unwrapping from yours.

You turned towards him, taking in his gentle eyes— a beautiful brown that in the right light, looked red.

"Yeah?" You whispered softly, a love struck smile on your face.

He looked away from you, up at the sky, cracking his knuckles, "You know how I said I'd love you forever?"

"Of course! You tell me everyday—"

He took a deep breath, "That's changed. I found someone else."

You sat up suddenly, looking down at him in confusion, heart pounding fiercely in your chest, "Wh-what? Yan.. Yan that's not funny—"

"It's not a joke, senpai— wait, I can't call you that, anymore, because you're not my senpai. I can't believe I even dated you! You were just trying to waste my time and keep me away from my real senpai!"

"Wh-what?! No!"

"You're so stupid and worthless, all you do is whine and I honestly can't believe I even loved you!"

A pair of legs appeared in front of Yan, a faceless figure standing in front of him. The opposite of you, everything you couldn't be... smart, witty, attractive, actually deserving of Yan's love. You watched Yan sit up, a smile on his face— a smile that used to belong to you and you alone.

"Senpai!"

He got up, hugged the mysterious person, and grabbed their hand, "Let's leave this freak! I missed you so much!" He cooed, leaning on their shoulder, completely love struck.

"Y-Yan! Wait!" You stood up, wanting to chase him, but you couldn't. You were stuck, as if your legs had been welded to the ground below you.

"See senpai? I'm so dedicated to you. I broke their heart to prove how much I love you— do you want me to break their bones too, senpai?"

The world stopped. Everything froze like an icy tundra. You fell to your knees, looking at them going further and further away, seeing Yan going further and further away.

Your heart felt like it'd been pulled out of your chest and beaten with a baseball bat full of nails. All you could do was watch Yan leave, seeing his red hair fade away. You sobbed as your everything—the only person you truly trusted left, laughing wickedly, not even caring about how you felt, not even caring.. not caring at all.

"Yan!" You screamed.

You stood up. Legs finally moving.

Maybe you could convince him! You loved him! You could convince him! You— you loved him!

"Come back!"

You began to run, legs finally working, you desperately reached for him, the world a blurry mess of tears, "YAN! COME BACK! PLEASE—"

But he didn't.

He disappeared. Didn't look back. kept going. Leaving you like an old doll he'd gotten bored of, finding a new toy instead.

You alone. Again.

With no one to turn to. Again.

Nobody to care for. Again.

Nobody caring about you. Again.

Alone. Again.

Blackness crawling into your chest again, loneliness nesting inside of your rib cage, cocooning itself inside you. Again. Again. Again.

Alone.

Again.

You woke up with a soft whimper, heart pounding in your chest as you felt warm tears falling down your cheeks. You closed your eyes, crying softly and hugging your pillow.

Maybe you should call Yan.

He'd be more than happy to comfort you! You sat up, grabbed your phone of the charger, and noticed the time— School was in hour. You sighed. He probably wouldn't even be awake now.

You lay down back down, wondering if you should text Yan.. everything that happened in your head kept ringing over and over again, especially what Yan said. You knew it was a nightmare, but it felt so real. Like it did actually happen.. like.. like it was going to happen. Could Yan ever.. ever find someone else? Someone who was better than you? He probably could, right? Then.. then he'd leave you all alone..

Your stomach curled into a tight, knot, and you felt the familiar fear run like a spiked metal wire in your veins, causing your heart to pound harder. What if it was all gonna happen? Not today or tomorrow, but.. someday? He could easily find someone else. He was so amazing and you.. you weren't.

Yan always said he loved you but.. but.. did he really? You were an anxious mess with too much emotional baggage, and sure, he had his problems, being possessive and clingy but.. but he didn't have the type of background you had. It just didn't make sense why he would choose you of all people. Your anxiety  just made the thought worse, dangling it above your head and maliciously smirking.

You closed your eyes, listening to the voice in your head telling you that Yan was going to leave you, and that you might as well get ready for it. Prepare for the inevitable. Did you really think he would actually wanna stay with you? Really? Really? Look at yourself, you're crying over a stupid bad dream, almost always insecure and almost as clingy as Yan. You were surprised he didn't find the constant need of reassurance from him annoying yet.

You wiped your tears and turned your phone  back on and opened  up your messages, reading a few from Yan—

Omg Senpai! I just saw the cutest person today! You'll never guess who!

....It was you! Love you! <3

A smile crossed your features and you wiped your eyes, of course he loved you. Of course he did. You scrolled up and read another one.

Senpai I can't wait for you to come over this weekend! :3 I'm so excited~! We're gonna watch so much anime and cuddle so much! :D I love cuddling with you, you're perfect cuddle size. uwu

Your cheeks flushed a little, and the voice in your head snickered. You really think he loves you? It asked, swirling in your head like a snake of smoke, all those cheesy messages don't mean shit. Maybe he does love you now, maybe— but don't you think he'll get tired of you?

You frowned, arguing with it. Wondering why Yan would say those things if he didn't mean them. Of course he meant them! You knew he did. He wasn't the type to lie about loving someone. That just wasn't Yan at all!

But how do you know? And maybe he does mean them.. or maybe he did mean them, but he doesn't mean them anymore because you were so annoying and he was just saying all those things to get you to shut up. The voice filled your head, burning up all the messages with questions of why, and how and really? What if it was all a lie? What if he used to like you and now he didn't— You slammed your eyes shut. Covering them with your hands as you gritted your teeth, asking yourself if you really were gonna cry over something so stupid?

How could Yan even love you when you were like this?

Your alarm rang and you gasped, sitting up, remembering you had to pack— today was Friday, you were supposed to go over to Yan's house for the weekend. Would you be annoying? Maybe you should cancel? Say.. say you couldn't come over? But.. he got everything prepared and— you sighed softly, rummaging through your drawer and stuffing clothes into your backpack.

Your phone buzzed, you looked at it before picking it up from your bed, turning it on and opening it. Reading  the message from Yan—

Good morning Senpai! It's Friday and I'm so excited!! Don't forget to pack! :3 Also love you and have a good day! I'll see you soon! Love you! Ok bye

A small smile bloomed on your lips, and you texted back, hearing that small seed of doubt as you did. You ignored it, sending a message that read— Morning Yan-Yan! Can't wait to see you and stay over, and don't worry, I packed up. Love you too and see you soon~

You placed it back on your bed and fixed up your hair before brushing up your teeth and getting dressed, making sure to grab your phone and headphones before you did. Then you went to school.

When you arrived, you met Yan in the cafeteria, he brought breakfast for you, which was an unexpected surprise, and all he asked in return was a kiss. (Which you found adorable, and of course you gave him one.)

The two of you ate outside, watching the sun rise as you talked. You wondered if you should tell him about your nightmare, but you didn't want to ruin his happy mood, or be annoying. Before you knew it, your first class started and Yan walked you to class, giving you a kiss and a hug before running to his class.

The rest of the day.. was.. a day.

Your anxiety kept piling up, and then just found more reasons for Yan to hate you—

looks, grades, the way you speak, how you talk too much, your smile, your eyes, the way you walked, the clothes you wore.. everything.

By the time the day was over, thoughts swirled in your head like a tornado, and when you went to meet him by your locker, it took everything in you to not cry and panic. Your stomach hurt and your heart pounded as your brain kept saying— he's gonna leave. Not be here. You'll be all alone. He won't miss you. He doesn't need you. Can't you be better?

You leaned against your locker, head swirling as your chest felt like it was being wrapped up in a giant fist. Your lungs constricted. Your heart pounded. Palms sweated. Throat dry. The world blurring, people becoming slashed of color, the school becoming nothing but a blur that felt.. that felt like distant waves at sea. Real, recognizable, but not entirely there, dreamlike in a sickening way.

"Senpai?"

Yan.

Your eyes snapped up, focusing on him, the world a buzz of noise. You were so stupid! You just had to go and panic, didn't you? Ruin everything like some sick disease—

"Are you okay?" He asked softly.

You couldn't breathe.

He should've been yelling at you! Scolding you! Punishing you! Giving you a reason to cry! A reason to be scared so why, why was he being so nice?

Air rushed in and out your throat as you tried to speak, words replaced with shallow harsh breaths. You placed a hand on your chest, heart pounding loudly in your ears.

Softly, Yan grabbed your hand, holding you close as everything crashed— crashed, crashed like a boat in the middle of a fearful storm, crashed like a frantic car speeding down the high way and off a cliff, crashed.

Yan pushed people out the way, practically slamming the school doors open before picking you up and cradling you like the gentle cargo you were. Fishing the keys out of his skirt pocket, he clicked the button, unlocked his red Cadillac, before opening the back seat door and placing you there, climbing in next to you and closing the door shut.

You looked at him, the eye of the storm, the patch of sky in the middle of the tornado and—

"Don't leave me Yan!" You sobbed, clinging on to him desperately, hands digging into the soft fabric of his white shirt and you cried.

"Leave you Senpai? Why would I leave?"

You couldn't even answer back, your breathing was too rapid, too much, your nerves felt like they were on fire, and the world wasn't real— or was it real and you weren't? Or was none of it real and you were just floating? And scared? And alone? And—

"Senpai." Yan whispered, his voice a soft breeze, "I'd never leave you, senpai. Never."

You only responded with a gasping sob, throat feeling like it'd been scratched over a thousand times.

Yan placed a hand under your quivering chin, lifting your face turning your face towards him.

"Breathe senpai, breathe— slowly." He murmured, scooting closer and using his other hand to stroke your cheek, "breathe.. breathe.."

You closed your eyes, taking a shaky breath, feeling your lungs expand like blooming pink flowers.

"That's right Senpai, just breathe for me, okay?"

You nodded, swallowing back tears and feeling him shift and wrap his arms around you loosely.

"Breathe out.."

You let out a deep breath.

"Breathe in."

You breathed in through your nostrils, feeling the air travel down your throat as you calmed down and wiped your tears away.

"Better?"

You nodded.

He wrapped his arms tight around you, kissing your forehead, "I'll never leave you Senpai."

You snuggled into his chest, saying nothing.

"I mean it. No matter what that mean voice in your head—who I really need to beat up by the way— says. I love you Senpai. You and only you."

You looked at him, eyes big and wide, vulnerable, begging him to reassure you like always. He practically read your thoughts.

"I mean it Senpai," he whispered, "I really do—

And I don't care how many times I have to tell you, because I want you to believe it, so if I have to say it a hundred or a thousand times then I'll say it. Because I love you."

You gave him a watery smile, warm tears pricking the corners of your eyes, "I love you too Yan-Yan."

He smiled, kissing your forehead, before tucking your head underneath his neck and softly rubbing your back.

“I love you so, so much Senpai," he whispered, "I'd do anything for you, and I mean anything."

Your heart pounded like always when he said those type of things— his words were so reassuring.. you snuggled into his chest, wrapping your arms around him.

"I love you so much— I'm.. im surprised you haven't left me yet, senpai..."

You gasped, pulling away momentarily, "Oh Yan! I'd never leave! I love you too much!"

The yandere smiled, grabbing your hands in his, "That's exactly how I feel Senpai.."

You smiled softly, wiping the last of your tears before hugging him again. The two of you cuddled for a while before you let out a yawn, exhausted from your anxiety filled day.

“Let's go home, senpai! Then we can take a nap!"

You nodded and agreed, crawling into the front seat, Yan followed and started up his car, clearly excited. His cheeks flushed and a smile crossed his face— causing your stomach to flutter like always. Yan didn't even know how beautiful he was, sometimes.. nor did he know how cute he could be. His hand rested on the gear shift between you, while the other one held the wheel as he backed out of the school, once he was onto the road, you grabbed his hand.

"Yan?"

"Yes senpai?"

"Y-you know how you have nightmares?"

"Yeah."

"I had one this morning.." you said softly, sadly, "and it was about you leaving.. and I just thought I should tell you.."

Yan stopped at a red light and looked at you as you continued, "I-it was about you leaving me and finding someone else.."

"Senpai.. I'd never, ever do that. There's no one else as wonderful and amazing and— and ahhh senpai! There's so many things about you that I love.. and I know you're scared of me leaving, but I promise I won't, okay?"

You nodded, biting your lip.

"I really do mean it, senpai. I love you so much. I— before I met you.. I.. I didn't feel anything at all, and I'd always have to pretend to be happy.. b-but.. when you came into my life.. I felt.. I felt so.. happy—" tears welled up in his eyes, and he turned towards the stoplight, realizing it was green with a nervous laugh, "I'm such a baby— the lights green!"

He pushed the break with his foot and continued driving to his house. You couldn't help but feel your heart pound, not out of fear.. but out of pure love for your Yan-Yan. Your stomach looped itself into playful knots as his words played over and over again in your head.

"Yan.. I feel the same way. Ever since I met you.. I.. I.. know what it's like to be happy.." you whimpered, eyes welling up again, causing you to wipe your tears, "and that's why I get so anxious— and why you get anxious too.. because we're so afraid of losing each other but.. but.. I.. I know that I'd never leave you.. and I'm starting to believe you'll never leave me either.. and I'm sorry it's taking me so long to believe it.. I'm always used to people leaving."

You saw Yan smile softly, and then his smile widened, brown eyes shining with determination, "Well senpai! I'll just have to make sure you believe it! Because I really mean it, I won't ever leave you!"

You smiled again, cheeks flushing, "Thank you Yan.. I— I love you so much."

His face turned red as his smile grew, "I love you too Senpai."

Soon enough, the both of you pulled into his driveway and got out the car, going straight to his bedroom and changing into pajamas. After that, the both of you snuggled underneath the covers, exchanging love struck glances and soft kisses, until.. you both eventually fell asleep in each other's arms.

[creativeskullcreations]

Outside chapter 15: Can We Fix It? Maybe!

And thus ends this arc, where we also see what caused the problem. Next thing I write will most likely be for Happy Times, so keep an eye on that if you're interested.

Don't stop taking your medicine even if you do feel better, unless your doctor orders it.

Scout opened her eyes slowly, feeling groggy and with her head hurting like a bitch. She was in a very clean, white room she had never seen before, and, somehow, felt very full in a very weird way.

"Hey." She looked down, slowly, at the source of the noise, and saw Stacy lying there staring at her. The Host gave a small smile, and instantly Scout felt a little bit better. "You should go back to sleep. We have stuff to do tomorrow, and you'll need the energy."

"Oh, okay." Stacy watched the Puppet close her eyes, and within seconds the heartbeat against her arm fall back into a steady beat. She let her head hit the table with a quiet groan.

"Will, she did it again." She moaned, and Mason, who was sitting next to her, patted her head and moved a glass of water with a straw in it closer to her. She accepted it, taking a long drink.

"We're almost done here, don't worry."Will told her from where he and Lisa were by Scout's head, working quickly. The head itself was split open, fabric peeled back carefully to expose the felt brain, and wiring surrounding it. He sighed as he tried to figure out what was broken and how, but as the whole thing was confusing to him. There was no rhyme or reason to how the flashlight was supposed to work, when it should be a simple smack-to-turn on kind of thing. He couldn't even see a battery pack anywhere, instead concluding it must be on the other side of the brain. He sighed, finally giving up.

"There's no fixing this." He told Stacy, who looked crestfallen. "The wires seem to run through her brain, and there's no sign of a power source anywhere. I think we need to close her up, and call it good." He sighed, pulling off his gloves and moving back while Lisa stepped in to stitch the Puppet up.

"But the flashlight-"

"Is broken beyond repair, Stacy. Which means, at least, if she gets wet again that shouldn't happen anymore." He sighed, relieved despite himself. His girlfriend's sudden seizure in the car had been terrifying, finding Scout's lifeless body surprisingly more so. But while Stacy had woken up, seemingly no worse for wear, Scout... hadn't. So they'd called Lisa, who'd brought Mason, and had attempted  emergency surgery. Which, he supposed, went rather well all things considered.

At the very least, she'd woken up about five times, seemingly coherent each time, which Will took as a good sign. That, and Stacy could feel the Puppets heart beat while her hand was.... inside her and good Lord wasn't that just creepy? And Stacy said it had felt wrong, using her right arm instead of the left. But she'd kept it there anyways, hoping the more intimate physical contact would help keep the Puppet stable.

And it seemed to work, too. Broken flashlight or no, Scout had lived and that was what was important here, at least to Will. He didn't want to know what would happen to Stacy if she died. With a sigh, he washed his hands and watched as Lisa finished stitching up the surgical wound on her head.

Once that was done, and Lisa had styled Scout's hair in a way that completely hid the scar, Stacy finally felt like the Puppet was stable enough for her to remove her hand. And, luckily, she was right. There was no change except for Scout looking a little more deflated. The Host covered her with a small blanket sitting nearby, and settled in to wait.

It was a long wait, made even longer due to the fact they were sitting in Will's creepy basement lab. Granted they were in the cleaner part of it, without the haunted dolls in cages, or half-torn apart monsters, but it still made Stacy nervous. It reminded her of the Studio, and she hated that. No part of her home should remind her of that awful place. She only hoped Scout didn't make the connection when she woke up.

Speaking of, it looked like the Puppet was already starting to stir. Unable to help herself, Stacy reached out to stroke her hair, careful to avoid the new scar.

"Ugh..." The Puppet groaned. She turned, spotting Stacy quickly. "What happened?" She asked, sounding groggy. Her eyes were still half closed, and she looked as though she might pass out again at any minute.

"Uh." Oh, Stacy hadn't planned for this. "What do you remember?" That sounded safe enough, and then she could figure it out from there.

"Not a lot." Scout admitted, not getting a chance to look around before Stacy scooped her up, blanket and all. She settled into the crook of her arm easy, though now the Host felt a little unsteady with her only arm taken up.

"... That's okay. Maybe you'll remember more later." She suggested, making her way up the stairs. She sat on the couch, letting Scout lay across her lap as she turned on Netflix. She selected something mindless, and kept the sound turned down. They watched for a while, before Scout craned her neck to look up at her Host.

"Why don't I feel as bad as I did before?" She asked. Stacy didn't look down at her, feeling more than a little stupid.

"Well, you remember the medicine I take?" Scout nodded. "Well one of the pills I'm supposed to take is a antidepressant. Because I have depression. It means I get really.... sad, I guess? And that makes me want to... not be alive any more." She added when she saw the Puppet open her mouth. Scout frowned.

"And what does that have to do with why I felt bad?"

"Well..." Stacy swallowed thickly. "When we got out of the studio, I felt... better. Normal. So I stopped taking the medicine. And then, and this is just a theory, but I'm pretty sure you.... caught my depression. And suicidal tendencies." She coughed lightly, staring at the wall. She felt stupid for not figuring it out sooner, but she'd been much more concerned with whether Rosco could follow them home.

Scout stared at Stacy. "What."

"Yeah..." She drew out the word, trying to think of a better way to explain. "I think it's cause of that psychic link you mentioned?"

"You're suicidal?!" Scout exclaimed, and Stacy sighed.

'Of course that's what she hears.' She took a breath. "I mean, not anymore? I'm in therapy for it, and taking medicine. Supposed to be taking medicine." She corrected herself. "I, uh, I gotta tell the Doc I haven't been taking it."

"But you're going to kill yourself? Or have you already tried?!" She accused, and Stacy felt terrible once again. She hadn't wanted to make the Puppet worry, and was quick to try and reassure her.

"I mean, not since I was fifteen." She admitted. "That's what the therapy's for." Her eyes widened as she realized something. "And don't you dare think it's because of you! My issues started a long time ago!"

The Puppet flinched back, looking away, and Stacy felt bad again. "Look, Scout, this really isn't your fault. It's mine. I wasn't paying attention to what was going on, or I would have noticed what had happened." She sighed, rubbing her temple and feeling a headache coming on. "Thank God Will at least has some sense, or we might both be dead right now."

"Yeah..." Scout agreed. She rubbed the back of her head, but paused when she brushed the stitches. Her eyes widened, and the memory of getting splashed flashed briefly back into her mind. 'Oh shit.' She realized, glancing up at Stacy, who hadn't yet noticed her shift in attention. "Um...?!" 'She seems okay at least. Should I ask about it? Or just pretend like it never happened? What's the right answer here?'

Stacy glanced down, noticing the look on Scout's face and misinterpreting it. "Yeah. I mean, he did the best he could, but..." She let the sentence hang, and cleared her throat. "It... might not work anymore. Your flashlight, I mean."

"Oh..." The Puppet moved her hand, unsure if she should test it or not while Stacy watched, tensed to yell for Will if things went wrong. But, after a moment, Scout lowered her hand, bunching up the bottom of her shirt in her mitten hands instead..

"By the way, you're also going to be doing therapy." Stacy blurted out quickly. Scout looked shocked.

"What?! Why?! I don't need to!" Therapy meant doctors like Riley. And Scout would sooner take a bath then come face to face with a doctor.

"Yeah right, you're worse off than I am right now. Trust me, it'll help. Besides, I've already talked to Doc about you, so she's who you're going to be seeing." Stacy told her, adopting a no-nonsense tone. "And don't even try to hide from it, because I can and will find you the same way I did before."

"This fucking sucks." The Puppet muttered, turning away. She crossed her arms and hunched into a sulk.

"Yeah..." Stacy agreed and, after a moment pulled the Puppet into a hug. It was a little awkward, and Scout stiffened up at first, but eventually she relaxed into it, remembering how nice it had been to be hugged the first time. It was still nice, but now had the bonus of feeling familiar. Stacy leaned back, settling in and turning up the volume of the show.

With any luck, things would be easier from now on. She'd take her pills again, Scout would get therapy, and they'd be leaving the studio far in the past where it belonged. Plus, now Scout had met the rest of her friends, so maybe she wouldn't be as lonely as before. She work on getting their numbers into the Puppet's phone later. For now, they were going to watch the show..

All in all, despite what had happened, Stacy held high hopes for the future.

[pendragyn]

First Line Tag

I was tagged by @gaslightgallows​

Rules: Post the first lines of your last ten fics read or written and then tag others to do the same.

Tagging: @raevenlywrites​ @froglesbianwriting​ @mperialscribe​ @teaflint​ @writingamongthecoloredroses​ @moniquill @napoleonscat and I know I am forgetting people, please join in on the fun and tag me if you do!

So.. Er, haven’t read much of anything but my own stuff on AO3, trying to get back into writing because everything sucks rn.  It’s Good Omens with a dash of Discworld all the way down, below the cut.

In The Garden; pre-fall, pre-canon fic of them in the Garden of Eden.

BEFORE THE BEGINNING...

…Was darkness. That’s what happens when the sun isn’t up, and as it was almost the middle of the night —the first night, leading into the first day in the Garden of Eden— darkness was only to be expected.

The Great Plan was being set in motion. The countdown to start the countdown to the end of the world had begun. Things were getting down to the wire and the Heavens were in a tizzy to make sure everything went off without a hitch during the official launch.

Down in the Garden of Eden, all was peaceful. This was also to be expected. The only living beings in the entire Garden were two corporeal but unconscious angels reposing among the roots of the Tree. They’d been held in stasis since their incorporation a number of days earlier and weren’t due to wake until things were officially under way. Ostensibly this was to allow them to acclimate to corporeality, but in reality it was to keep them out of everyone’s metaphorical hair.

Of course, even the best laid plans never do go quite as planned, do they?

There was no Heavenly fanfare heralding the occasion, no Celestial sign except the eternal march of the stars across the sky, nothing at all to indicate that something was being set into motion as midnight of the day in question rolled around.

But down in their resting spots, the angels awoke.

Serpents And Ladders; what happens after the end of In The Garden.

After the fall of the Garden, for the first time that any could remember, change came rapidly to Heaven in the form of the instant adoption of corporeal forms amongst most of the archangels, much to the bafflement of some of the oldest Celestials who were gently prodded to a quiet retirement out among the stars. Heaven itself shifted to accommodate their altered forms, which forced the rest of the Celestials and the Elementals who did most of the day to day operations to adopt similar seemings.

Of course, Aziraphale and Crawly knew why it caught on, not that anyone ever thought to ask them. The reasoning was simple enough, if multi-faceted. Firstly, corporeality is a surprisingly potent antidote to knurd[1], with built in buffers against the harshness of reality. Really no surprise that it was popular.

Secondly, Celestial beings come in a great many shapes and sizes and types and having them all conform to one generally accepted shape was much more convenient, especially when it came to paperwork. (No one knew where paperwork had come from, since paper was technically not a thing yet, but there you go. It’s ineffable.)

Thirdly, with the increasing tensions between certain factions within the Host, having your firmament safely ensconced inside of flesh and bone made it that much harder to be spied on, making secrets that much easier to keep, especially once they discovered how to hide their wings.

And last but not least, though it took Aziraphale and Crawly a long while to fully comprehend the ramifications of it, it was because the humans began to believe, in great enough numbers, that that was how Heaven and the Host looked.

1. Being knurd is to be unintoxicated to such an extent that all comfort stories are stripped away from the mind. This makes you see the world in a way 'nobody ever should', in all its harsh reality.

Ask Not For Whom The Bell Tolls (It Tolls For They); the church in ‘41 and what happens, and doesn’t happen, after. (total tearjerker)

Crowley ran, ran and ran, heart pounding, almost blind with panic, hissing with pain as their foot hit the edge of consecrated ground, but it didn’t matter, because they were in time and like a snake shedding their skin the panic slipped away as they yanked open the door and hot-footed their way into the church under the confused eyes of a trio of nazis and an angel moments away from a fate worse than death.

A church, for fuck’s sake? Can’t the angel see it’s a setup? A trap? Dealing with nazis on holy ground, giving them holy books, even if it’s supposed to be a double-cross, a double double-cross. “Sorry, consecrated ground. Ugh, like being on the beach in bare feet.” Crowley fervently kept that thought in mind, because in reality, it was far far worse than that. Crowley was very good at imagining not being on fire, and that belief was all that was keeping them from falling to ash inside that church.

Aziraphale continued to stare at Crowley in shock, for a moment wondering if they were actually hallucinating the way humans could during moments of high stress. Because consecrated ground discorporates demons, and yet. And yet, Crowley was somehow really here. Why the he heaven is Crowley here? “What are you doing here?” Aziraphale hissed, the nazis and the gun momentarily forgotten.

“Stopping you from getting in trouble,” Crowley hissed back, dancing from foot to foot just an arm’s length away from Aziraphale. Play it cool, play it cool, play it cool, if you panic you’re both done for.

Stacking The Deck;

Harriet wanted to be asleep. She’d just had a baby a few hours earlier, and all she really wanted was sleep. They had given her something for the pain, but it didn’t stop her having to use the restroom, which was NOT FUN right now, and it took a while for things to settle back down and she just. wanted. sleep.

What she got, was voices.

A few she recognized, distant and muzzy, as the nuns who’d helped deliver the baby. There was also the one not-nun who’d shuffled in during the chaos, wrinkly as an old apple with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, who had actually delivered the baby before quickly shuffling back out again. The nuns had treated her with deep respect, whispering to each other about ‘a touch of the Old Adam’ she carried about her.

There was now a lot more raucous laughter coming from down the hallway, and some singing of what were definitely not religious hymns. Mingled in were the voices of men, which some deep part of her brain realized were from her supposed security detail, who’d abandoned her the minute the live feed with her husband had ended.

But under those voices was another voice, one that she’d learned to listen to when it whispered a little too loudly to ignore. And it was telling her to check on the baby, to check on Warlock. Right Now.

With a muffled groan Harriet slid her legs over the side of the bed and eased herself to her feet. With the dimmed lights and muddled by whatever they had given her, it took her a moment to realize that the bassinet wasn’t there. No Warlock. And no guards. And no nuns.

The coolness of the linoleum felt good against the bottoms of her feet and she shuffled dreamily out of the room into the empty hallway, too well medicated to feel panic, but the little voice was getting louder. And it was talking with an odd accent, which was weird. And it was calling her by her full name now, which was even more unusual. Find your baby, Harriet Sibyl Dowling. Find him now or lose him forever.

Nature vs Nurture; raising the antichrist

After the handshake, Crowley left in a hurry to set some of their plans into motion, with promises of talking soon and a casual ciao tossed over their shoulder before slipping out of the shop and roaring off down the road. What Aziraphale didn’t see was the demon pulled over a few blocks later, pressing their forehead against the steering wheel of the Bentley and letting out a shuddering sigh of relief that the angel had finally, finally, agreed to help them save the world. And wondered, briefly, if God hadn’t been right to kick Crowley out, because how much of a right proper bastard did you have to be to knowingly ask your best friend to do the most dangerous thing they could ever possibly do?

Aziraphale’s first course of action was to make sure the shop door was locked before retreating into the back room to think, away from the demon’s so very temping influence. It didn’t take the angel long to convince themself that it had to be the right thing to do, because otherwise it wouldn’t be hell starting the war, but heaven, and surely heaven didn’t want a war. Once that was settled, Aziraphale began to really set their mind to finding the solutions to the multitude of problems their scheme would surely entail. The second course of action was to retrieve the ancient tome of magic they kept safely secured in a secret room on the second floor of the shop and settling it reverently on to the desk to start their research.

Setting Things To Rights; Adam Young gets a visit from Agnes Nutter after the world doesn’t end.

“Come back. Please.”

Adam stared down at his best friends in the whole universe, sure his heart was breaking as they turned and ran away. He knew then he’d messed up bad, maybe beyond fixing. He tried to call them back, to beg even, but no sound would come and he closed his eyes against the sting of tears. Come back! Please! he wanted to say, pressing his hands to his tear-dampened face. I’m sorry!

  You don’t need them. You can have new friends. Better friends. All you have to do is show us the way.

A low growl and a familiar waft of doggy breath as a wet tongue lapped at his cheek had Adam opening his eyes, and he hugged Dog tightly in relief. “Oh Dog! I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered hoarsely, smiling when Dog licked him again. “I am sorry, you know that, don’t you?”

Dog whined and licked him again in answer.

“Thanks boy.” Adam let out a much heavier sigh and rubbed at his eyes when tears threatened again. The dream had been so real, too real, more memory than dream, and frightening in ways he didn’t want to think about. It hurt, knowing he’d hurt his friends so bad they’d stopped being his friends. And even though they’d forgiven him in the end, would they ever really trust him again? Especially when he could still do what he’d done? Would he trust someone who had done that to him?

In the silence there were two faint but distinct knocks that Adam heard clear as a bell. Dog’s ears perked up and Adam blinked and they both looked around the room for a source of the noise. There wasn’t much light but it was more than enough to show that nothing was out of place.

Still, Adam found himself saying, “Who’s there?”

A faint glimmering form stepped through the door. It was an old woman, dressed in really old clothes. “I have waited a long while for this meeting, Adam Young.” She bowed at him, a faint smile on her lips. “I be Agnes Nutter, witch. And ghost.”

Ineffable Bastards; the one I’m stuck on. :/

Groaning brakes pulled Crowley from their thoughts and they led Aziraphale off the bus, waiting until it had pulled away to turn towards their building. There was a sharp twinge in their stomach when they looked to the empty spot where the Bentley was usually parked. They felt another twinge when they looked at Aziraphale, who was staring up at the building with a distant blankness of expression that Crowley understood all too well. “C’mon, angel, I think we could both use a drink.”

No sound came at first, but Aziraphale managed to croak out, “Yes,” after a moment. They felt strangely distant from their feelings in the odd silence and they trailed behind the demon into the flat, which was both nothing like and exactly like what Aziraphale would expect from Crowley. The art got a few blinks but there was no energy to consider what they might mean after the day week decade they’d had.

Unlike the bare concrete walls in the other rooms, the kitchen was slick with creamy white marble and terrazzo tiles, ebony cabinets that gleamed and stainless steel appliances that had never been used or even plugged in, though they were well stocked with food and drink. Crowley grabbed a bottle at random and a couple of glasses, bringing them over to the chrome and glass table with a small collection of colorful orchids in the center. “Salute.”

The angel lifted their glass to toast before downing the drink and holding it out for a refill. Crowley obliged and they sat in silence for a while before Aziraphale asked, “Now what?”

“Eh, now I fall down and sleep for a while and you…” Crowley pulled off their glasses and gave the angel a long look. “You don’t really sleep do you? You should try it, great for getting away from your thoughts.”

“Rarely. Doesn’t seem to work that way for me, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale sighed and shook their head. “I just keep thinking about Agnes’ prophecy. Face the fire.” They shuddered a little. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

Rubbing at their tired eyes, and the sting of unsheddable tears, Crowley nodded. “You’re in big trouble, angel.”

“You know full well we’re both, as they say, in for it,” Aziraphale corrected, smiling a little when Crowley gave them a look. “I’ve toed the line for a long time, but you, my dear, have danced around it to the point that I’m not sure they even know where they drew the line to begin with. If Heaven is going to ‘fire’ me, what’s Hell going to do to you?” Saying it aloud had tears burning in their eyes and they wiped at them hastily.

Wilde Card; my take on why Aziraphale had a set of Oscar Wilde’s works.

“Aziraphale?”

“Hmm?”

Crowley tried to find a subtle way to ask, but curiosity had been eating at them to the point of distraction since the former angel had let slip that humans could have preternatural ancestry. “When you said, you’d never… with a human.”

Aziraphale gave them a confused look that melted into amused understanding when they realized Crowley was blushing. “My dear, are you asking me about my experiences?”

“Uh… Just, I seem to recall you mentioning a lot of gentleman’s clubs...” Crowley let their head drop back against the couch and covered their face when Aziraphale chuckled. “Ugh, angel!”

“I won’t judge you, you know,” Aziraphale murmured, smiling tenderly when Crowley looked at them. “If you, uh, found human companionship-”

“No! Ugh, no, it’d be like… no, I can’t help but think of them as children,” Crowley admitted. “Even Nanny Ogg, which tells you something about me I suppose,” they said, making Aziraphale laugh.

“I am in complete agreement with that sentiment,” said Aziraphale. “And it wasn’t just gentleman's clubs I frequented, there were quite a few for women if you knew where to look and who to talk to. You do know a lot more went on in the clubs than just sexual intercourse, don’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I should’ve known better, just, uh...” Crowley reached over and took Aziraphale’s hand. “There must have been quite a few poor smitten fools vying for your attention.”

Apple Of My Eye; complete fluff I wrote because of a pic I saw on tumblr

Crowley looked up from their mobile, barely able to contain their grin. “Hey, angel-”

“No.” Aziraphale didn’t even have to look up from the book they were reading to know the former demon was up to no good.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Crowley protested, still grinning at seeing the amusement crinkling around the reformed angel's eyes.

Aziraphale looked over at them with a feigned put-upon sigh. One look at Crowley’s grin had them asking, “Oh somebody, do I even want to know?”

If anything, that only made Crowley’s grin grow. “So I’m thinking maybe it’s time I branch out, try some different styles of shades. Whaddya think?”

Aziraphale spluttered into startled laughter when Crowley turned the mobile around, revealing a pair of spectacles where the rose tinted lenses had been shaped into breasts. “Why in the world-”

“Ain’t humans grand?” Crowley said, grinning down at the picture before sliding a sly look at Aziraphale and raising a hand, fingers poised to snap. “I could just…”

“You would too, wouldn’t you,” Aziraphale said with a shake of their head, pretending to go back to reading but watching Crowley sidelong. “Well I would rather you didn’t but I can’t stop you from going around looking, looking like a right proper tit if you want to,” they said with feigned primness, barely hiding their smile when Crowley laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to make a spectacle of yourself.”

“Alright angel, alright, you’ve convinced me. Wouldn’t want to put you off being seen with me.” It was a joke, mostly, and Crowley was still grinning as they said it, but inwardly that age old doubt still lingered.

Aziraphale knew it was there of course, having many of the same insidious worries about their new togetherness, and gave them a fond smile. “I assure you my dear, that having adored you in spite of that dreadful hairstyle you had in Paris, I would barely blink to see you in a pair of breastacles.”

Crowley blushed at the mention of adoration, sneered at mention of the hair and burst into raucous laughter at the name. “Only you’d think up a proper sounding name for it. Breastacles. Brilliant.” They darted in and grinningly kissed them. “And here I thought you’d appreciate me seeing the world through rose-titted glasses. But, as you wish.”

Aziraphale laughed and beamed at the phrase, taking their hand and lacing their fingers together. “Thank you, dearest. For everything. And especially for sparing everyone that.”

[blackevermore]

x Wonka angst

[ Idk where was going by the middle. I had an idea but it kept dying plus I was trying to make this more family focus than I have it in my main story. I failed but it’s still a nice (ish) insight to the brothers ]

--- 

The thickness of Wonka's famous taffy could be measured by a spoon with his unique secret ingredients. With the right amount of sugar, you could make taffy enjoyable, fun for everyone young and old. But if you use the wrong amount of sugar, you could make the taffy hard and the worse thing in the world. No one would want to eat it; no one would dare to take a bit and would move on to the next sweet treat. Wonka knew better than to use the wrong amount of sugar. He has been crafting the chart of perfection for most of his life. He could mix the candy blindly, and it would come out as it should if not better than what it was. Wonka had control over the sugar, it couldn't bend against him nor defile him, he didn't need to substitute it for anything else because it was powerless. At this moment, Wonka was the sugar. The culprits who caused the mess sat crossed him stoically and peacefully. They had no idea that inside Wonka's well manner composure he was losing grains of sugar like an hourglass. Surely in enough time as they sat in silence, Wonka would spread across the table in a flowing mess of grain. Wonka's eye twitched, and his palms felt itchy, numb as the pit of anxiety made home in his brain and travelled to his heart. His heart thrashed against his chest in an attempt to escape, but no one could see it as he kept his eyes low and his face blank. A throat cleared but Wonka didn't turn his attention towards it. He forced himself away into his mind, wholly spaced out from the others and wishing their visit would hopefully be over with when he came back to his body.

"William," Wilfred called out in his deep and heavy brotherly voice. The same voice that would call to Wonka in a higher pitcher when they were children. Wilfred refused to use that silly nickname that was placed on his younger brother. What grown and established man would want to be called Willy? Wilfred leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms and sighing heavily. "William, we have to talk about this." The eldest brother tried to talk to his brother again, but yet it was no avail. 

The youngest of the trio, Wesley, sat to Wonka's right side across from Wilfred twirling his thumbs. He wanted to say something, anything, everything, but he knew his words would fall to the abuse of his stutter. He could hold his breath and try to speed through what he wanted to say, but it would be meaningless if the words didn't have time to marinate. Wesley looked over to Wilfred, the eldest was fed up but kept it under wraps, he then turned to look at his middle brother, Wonka was still hiding inside his mind. Wesley wanted this trip to be different than the last time they saw each other. He wanted them all to come back together and mourn over the loss of their mother but celebrate a union. Wesley knew he was nothing but a fool to think Wonka would be happy to see them. He blamed them for everything even though it wasn't their faults. Had Wilfred knew what would happen to his family once he was thrown in a boarding school, he would have ran away to save his brothers. Save their mother. Save what was left of their family. Wesley would have begged their aunt to travel back to England to find his mother. Even as a child, Wesley would have found his strength in his little hands and became a hero to a tragic story. But the past couldn't be rewritten, their mother, as beautiful as she once was, wasn't coming back to comfort her broken children.

"I....I-I'm s-s-s-sor-sorry." Wesley strutter out. Wilfred's eyes turned towards him in confusion. What was there to apologize for? Wesley didn't know where his words were going, but he knew Wonka deserved to hear them. Wesley caught Wilfred's stare and knocked on the table to gather everyone's attention. Even if Wonka wouldn't look at him, he wanted to make sure Wonka was semi-aware of his intentions. Wilfred shifted a bit in his seat and looked on to Wesley's hands as the youngest began to sign. First, he asked Wilfred to read out aloud what he was saying. Then he began to speak.

"I'm sorry we couldn't have been there." Wilfred had to clear his throat as it became dry as he spoke for Wesley. Wesley took a moment to think about what to say next before signing rapidly. "Maybe if we had all stuck together, none of the things that happen to you would've happened."

"Ha!" Wonka finally spoke. His brothers quickly turned towards him and waited for him to continue. Wonka blinked a couple of times and rose his head slowly. His firey purple eyes dulled in the light, and his lips trembled into a snarl. Wesley knocked on the table again to get Wilfred's attention to continue.

"We don't know what happened and we never will, but we're here now. And now is better than never and I hope we could be a -"

"Don't you dare finish that, I don't want to hear it, I don't want to hear none of it." Wonka snapped at Wesley while he signed, causing the youngest to flinch. Wilfred wanted to enforce good behaviour, but Wesley held up his hand to stop him from speaking, and Wilfred held his tongue. Let him speak, Wesley sighed. Wonka slammed his gloved hands down on the table.

"Let me speak? I'm not a child, don't treat me like a child, I'm older than you!" Wonka barked then flinched as he caught his tongue and pulled back from exploding. This wasn't helping his case, but he couldn't help the anger that started to boil. "You-you have n-no idea what happened to me. You have no idea what happened after you all left." Wonka's fist repeatedly clenched as he struggled to find the words to string together. His mind wasn't blank anymore, it was running, flashing every repressed memory of years of his own personal hell. So many forgotten years that were covered with toxic remedies and self-damaging mantras. For the middle child, it was always better to forget what was wrong and invent something that had no faults. 

"All of you left me."

"Willam-"

"Be quite!" Wonka yelled.

Wonka didn't like raising his voice, he hated it even, it reminded him of all the times his father rose his voice. He could hear his father's voice in his head, repeatedly calling after him and scolding him. The image of his father face flashed across his head, and Wonka quickly shut his eyes to get rid of it. How long has it been since he ran away? How long has it been since he walked home from the train station and saw the house was gone? Wonka could still recall the bitter winter that rolled in the day he chose to run away and become the man he is now. He could remember how cold the tears felt rolling down his encaged face as he fell to his knees in defeat. But it wasn't the sadness of being abandon that shadowed over Wonka's shoulder. It was the years afterwards that made the time with his father and his brother's seem like everything happened to the unfavourable child. Wilfred got away because he fought back, Wesley was sent away upon request to Switzerland with their aunt. But their mother kept Wonka home, she held on tight to him with a promise of escaping together and reuniting with his brothers. She forced him to live with her and her pains and the abuse of his father. Long and sleepless nights of Wonka's mother holding him close and crying, telling him over and over again 'soon'. But soon never came and Wonka was watching his father cry as they lowered his troubled mother down into the ground.

Wonka knew pointing figures at the others wouldn't fix the years of wearing his headset. But it felt good knowing that as he fell apart to mountains of sugar, his brothers would suffer as well.

Wonka sat back in his chair at the head of the table and fixed himself with a blank face and a calmer air. Wesley wanted to ask what had happened in those years they were apart. He wanted to pull his brother into a hug and tell him that it was okay to be upset.

"You have no idea what they did they did to me." Wilfred became hyper-attentive when he heard the world 'they'. Who were they? Wonka held up a hand to cover his mouth as he chuckled. He then lowered it slightly and pointed to Wilfred. "You got to live in another place without father ever checking in. Some will say that neglect, but in our case, that's a blessing." Wonka then turned his eyes to Wesley and his chuckling stopped. "But you got to have it better than the rest. You got the golden ticket and a once way trip to your happiest place on earth. You truly are a winner dearest Wesley. Simply a winner." 

Wesley could have told him that months after he got to Switzerland, he cried in his aunt's arms begging for him mother and asking when his brothers were coming back. The years afterwards, when he was bullied for loving animals and being the quiet wired kid. He could have told his brother he tried to drown himself in the forest behind his university.   Wilfred could have said to him that those years in boarding school became hell when word got out who he was the son of. Expectations of a stellar student became an underground fight club of dominance. He also could have told Wonka he was proud of him when his father told him he had ran away. But the brother said nothing and hung their heads. It wasn't them that felt like the world was always against them. They felt like they had overcome a lot of things. But they weren't as successful as Wonka and would never be. They didn't know about Miss Swizzlepot who took him in as if he was her own son then used him, they didn't know what Kelvin who taught him the way of business but wanted so much more. They had no idea about Eva, Elanora and her godforsaken brother Eager, the list of business Wonka had bought out to have a secret monopoly. The endless chains of murders that occurred in the factory walls, or what it was like to have the one thing you loved the most stolen away from you.

Wonka rolled his eyes and pushed back on his heels to get of out his chair. He rose to his feet and straighten his back to seem taller than he was. Reached to his side and grabbed his cane then stepped out to head to the door. 

"I want you out of my factory and once again out of my life. I liked it better when I believed I was the only child." Wonka said. When the sound of it slamming echoed across the room, Wesley and Wilfred knew it was best to end the conversation for now. Wilfred craved a heavy drink with enough kick to put him to sleep. And Wesley wanted to curl into a ball with his anacondas and pour his heart out in sadness. The door opened again, but either of them wanted to know if it was their brother coming back. 

"Pardon me?" A female voice called out, making the brother perk up and turn around. It was Taylor looking a bit uneasily and Scarlet right behind her ready to run over to Wilfred. "Will you both be staying for dinner?" The girl asked. Wesley looked towards Wilfred silently asking him what they should do. Wilfred threw a blank for a moment then nodded despite being unsure himself. 

"We would love to." Wesley signed with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

[isabel3710]

World Of Color: Part 1

Sander Sides Fanfiction      Part 2

Summary: Patton has been keeping a secret from his family. He's done good keeping it that way until one day he messes up.

Word Count: 1,643

Patton was not like any normal side. Of course, each side was a little bit different from their host, Thomas, in some shape or form. But no side wasn’t so different that it was super strange or weird. But with Patton it was. You see, Patton had something called Synesthesia which is a condition in which one of a person’s senses (for example, hearing) is perceived as if by one or more additional senses. Every person with Synesthesia is different in what ways they see, hear, feel, and taste the world. In Patton’s case, sight and hearing. For he had colored hearing. Now you might be wondering what colored hearing was in the Synesthesia world. Well, it's very simple to explain; a person with colored hearing can see colors when they hear sounds and words spoken to them. Their letters will often have color as well.

This is what Patton had and he loved it! He didn’t see it as some kind of disease like others sometimes did, he saw it as a gift. But he knew that it wasn’t normal for him to be like this, because even though everyone in his family was different from Thomas none of them had something so bizarre as this. Which was why Patton never told any of them his secret, he didn’t want them to think he was broken or worse; try and fix him. Because he wasn’t broken and he didn’t need to be fixed. Still, it was hard to keep his secret and at times he wished that he could tell them. But it didn’t matter anymore, because now he had been caught.

-----

~~Earlier~~

Patton winced as Logan let out a loud “falsehood!” And angry green zig-zags made its way across his vision. He and his fellow sides were Thomas with a problem that he had been having and Roman and Logan had gotten locked in a heated debate. The two were just short of yelling at each other at this point. And Thomas desperately trying to get them to calm down. Virgil, on the other hand, was sitting at his place on the stairs quietly watching (which Patton was grateful for, he didn’t think he could handle any more yelling) and Patton himself was trying to help Thomas calm his two kiddos down.

However, it was getting harder and harder to focus on the task at hand with all the colors and shapes making its way across his field of vision, normally he could ignore it but as his two friends' voices kept getting louder and louder it was growing harder and harder. Within what felt like a couple of minutes Roman and Logan were full-on yelling at each other, their voices overlapping. Patton didn’t even know what they were arguing about at this point. But it didn’t matter, with their voices at such a loud volume and blended together The Moral Side’s vision was filled with an overwhelming amount of colors and shapes.

Thomas froze in shock at the sudden volume change and Virgil winced from the noise but for the most part, stayed calm. Patton, on the other hand, slapped both hands around his ears tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. Hoping that it would all just stop, he was gaining a headache from both the noise and all the colors he was seeing. He was so focused on blocking out the noise that he didn’t notice Virgil kicking in and yelling at them to “shut up” before turning to him with concern. All he noticed was the colors suddenly stopping, but that did nothing for his headache.

“Pat... Are you okay?” Virgil asked.

In the back of his mind, Patton knew how this must look. He was having the most extreme reaction out of all of them to Roman and Logan’s arguing, which they did often, but they didn’t understand. Yes, arguments were a common thing but never this loud! It was too much for him and he needed everyone to stop talking, and let him focus. And he was growing impatient.

“Virgil, shut up.” He said, his voice coming out harsher than he intended to. Opening his eyes he saw that Virgil leaning away from him in shock along with everyone else, and he felt bad and he knew that he’d have to make sure to apologize later but right now he needed to focus.

“Patton..” It was Logan that spoke up this time, his voice strangely gentle.

“Stop talking!” Patton cried as more colors flashed “just stop it’s too much!”

“What is?” His host asked just as gently.

“The colors!” He practically yelled and there was silence, then he realized what he had just said.

Looking up he saw Virgil, Roman, and Thomas looking at him with confusion and concern while Logan, on the other hand, looked almost shocked. Which was strange since Logan never expressed much emotion. The Fatherly Side’s eyes went wide and he quickly sunk out before any of them could speak, going to his room.

-----

Virgil stared at the spot where Patton once stood, confused. Patton was never, ever harsh but just now told him to “shut up” and then yelled something about colors before leaving without explaining anything to them. Looking around he saw that his creative counterpart and host had similar expressions of confusion and worry. Logic, on the other hand, looked merely surprised. It didn’t take long for Virgil to figure out that Logan knew what was wrong with Patton.

“Okay specs,” he said, “what's wrong with Patton?”

Logan adjusted his glasses “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Oh please!” Roman said, having come to the same conclusion Virgil had “your the only one here who looks like they have any sort of idea what just happened.”

“What do you mean?” Thomas asked them, still looking confused.

“You see,” The Observant Side said “right before Patton left he yelled something about colors. The rest of us were and still are, confused. Logan here just looked surprised. Meaning that he must have some kind of idea what’s going on.”

Thomas turned to Logan “is this true?” He asked.

“Well,” Logan answered, “I have a theory but without Patton here to confirm it I can not be sure.”

“How about you tell us your what your theory is?” Romas said with a light touch of annoyance “at least then we’ll have some kind of idea of what is up with him.”

“Well,” The academic side started “given Patton's reaction to Roman and myself's… debate... And what he said before he left I am to the conclusion that our friend has Synesthesia.”

“Syneth what now?” Roman asked looking even more confused.

“Synesthesia,” Logic repeated slowly, “it is a condition in which one sense is simultaneously perceived as if by one or more additional senses such as sight.”

“Okay..” Thomas said, “how ‘bout you explain it in a way that we can understand?”

Logan sighed “alright, imagine it this way. Let’s say that you have wires connected to your brain, each one represents one of the four senses; sight, hearing, smell, and touch. For the average person, the wires are separated from each other but for a synesthete, two or more of these wires are crossed over each other.”

“Okay….” Virgil said cautiously “so what does it mean if these wires are ‘crossed over’ as you say.”

“I’m glad you asked Virgil,” Logan said, “because a synesthete’s wires are crossed their senses work differently.”

“How so?” Thomas asked.

“Well it means that two or more of their senses work at the same time,” the logical persona said before expanding further “let's take the most common type of Synesthesia, colored hearing. People with colored hearing report that whenever they hear a sound or a word they see color. It’s been reported that each sound and word has a different color, most have also claimed that their colors have texture and shape as well. It has also been stated that most with colored hearing’s alphabet and numbers have color as well.”

“Okay… so you believe that Patton has this colored hearing thingy?” The YouTuber asked.

“Yes, or at least some form of it.”

“What makes you believe that?” The whimsical aspect asked.

“Well first was his reaction to our argument. What did he do?” Logan asked.

“He covered his ears and closed his eyes,” Virgil answered.

“Exactly” Logic said proudly, “most would just cover their ears to block out the noise if needed. Patton, however, closed his eyes as well as if trying to block something out, to stop himself from seeing something.” He explained “it has been reported that synesthetes with colored hearing get overwhelmed by loud, overlapping noises. And when Virgil tried to talk to Patton he got upset, asking for quiet, as if trying to reevaluate himself.”

“And he mentioned something about the colors being too much!” Roman exclaimed.

“Yes,” Logan agreed “that is what truly leads to my conclusion.” Everyone grew quiet, thinking about what their friend had said.

“Wow…” Thomas spoke up “who knew!”

“I feel so bad now!” Roman said, upset “if I had known that my arguing with Logan caused so much trouble for our little puffball then I would’ve tried to be being more careful!”

“It’s not like we knew or anything,” Virgil told him “Patton must have a reason for not telling us.”

“That’s right Virgil!” Thomas said “and besides, it’s like Logan said. It’s just a theory, we’ll have to talk to Patton to find out for sure.”

“Should we summon him?” Roman asked.

“I believe that we should give Patton sometime to himself before we do.” Logan said, “he might still be overwhelmed and will need some time to calm down.” The others nodded at this, and the darkly dressed trait wondered what might be going through his father figures' head.

[lilulo-12fanfiction]

Wonder of You

Letting Go- Chapter 5

So this one is a long one. Thank you as always for your likes, re-blogs and comments. I LOVE FEEDBACK!!!!!! 

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in this story, or anything else I have. 

Tag List:

@magssteenkamp @fandom-princess-forevermore @deans-baby-momma

Blake couldn’t sleep. Well she didn’t want to sleep. Every single time she closed her eyes, she watched Dean get electrocuted again and again. Granted he was okay now, he had been healed, but the prospect of loosing him had been too close for comfort. Or she saw herself and Sam locked in cages waiting to be slaughtered. So instead of sleeping herself, she watched him and Sam sleep. It was a gift to watch their chests rise and fall. The idea of living in a world without Dean or Sam Winchester in it was more than she could handle. 

The whole ordeal had taken a lot out of Dean emotionally. Someone had died so that he could live. Even though he didn’t make the choice, it was eating at him. And the idea that he wanted to sacrifice his life so someone neither of them knew could live made Blake’s breath stop. He couldn’t leave her, regardless of how guilty he felt. She had knocked the wind out of Sam when she hugged him gratefully for stopping the ritual and saving Dean. He knew that no matter what Blake had told him, she wasn’t over his brother. The fear and relief he had witnessed in those few days proved it. She just wasn’t ready to admit it to herself. She also knew her and Sam vanishing had rattled his cage quite a bit. Blake turned her head to look at Sam. Her sweet Sammy. What was happening to him? Psychic visions, telekinesis? The Demon that had killed Mary had done the same thing to Max’s mother. What if Sam lost control? The idea of him hurting himself or someone he loved made her queasy. She looked at her phone willing John to call, but he didn’t. She knew he wouldn’t. She was so angry with him she could scream. She hugged her knees to her chest and shivered. The cold Chicago air nipped through the cheap motel.

Sam and Blake had barely made it away with their lives. She shuddered at the idea of being locked in that cage. The way the brothers were a little to handsy, leering at here. The one had mentioned keeping her for himself. The back of his hand running down her cheek. She didn’t want to think about what would have happened if Dean hadn’t found them. 

“Do you ever sleep anymore?” She heard Dean’s gruff voice.

“Too wired to sleep.” Her chin rested on the top of her knees.

“You look exhausted. You shouldn’t have taken the couch. I would have.“

“I wouldn’t have slept in the bed either Dee.” Dean sat up.

“What’s the matter sweetheart?” It was funny how sometime the nickname made her cringe and other times it warmed her heart. She considered her answer for a moment and realized that he would see through her BS if she lied.

“You mean other than being locked up and almost hunted like an animal? I’m terrified to close my eyes. I see you or Sam dead...or worse.” Dean took notice of how her voice shook. He stood up and made his way to the couch and sat down next to her.

“Tell me about the worse. You promised me you’d tell me about those nightmares, maybe you thought I forgot.” She sighed. Dean sat wide eyed as she went through the gamete of visions. Her mother’s corpse speaking to her. The terror, the running. John and Mary.

“They want me to know something. But they won’t tell me what it is.” Her voice broke. “I am convinced your father knows something. I think my mother made him appear to me to give me a hint. He won’t call me back. I’ve called and I’ve called.”

“I know. Have you ever done research into your mother? Maybe there is something there.”

“I’ve always been too scared to. There’s something on the edge of my memory that I can’t quite reach. I think it would explain things. No matter what I do, it’s like the memory is locked.”

“Well, we figure out what is up with this Demon and Sammy and then we’ll figure this out too.”

“How Dean?”

“Together. We’ll figure it out together.” He pulled her over to him, wrapping his arms around her. “You’re freezing. C’mon, let’s go lay down. Same deal as when we were hunting the scarecrow. Even a flicker of a nightmare and I’ll wake you up.” You nodded and followed him to the bed. She knew she would have a dreamless sleep. She always did when she was with him.            

Blake was fidgeting as Dean and Sam we’re chatting trying to figure out what their latest Monster was. She was overtired, stressed out and irritated with Dean’s constant flirting with anything that had breasts. 

“So, to recap, the only successful intel we've scored so far is the bartender's phone number.” Blake clenched her jaw as Dean smirked. She was waiting for Sam’s smart ass response when he got up from the table and was walking away from them. Dean looked confused and alarmed. They watched as Sam approached a blonde woman at another table. Sam put his hand on her shoulder. Her face lit up in recognition. Blake and Dean stood to see who this girl hugging Sam was.

“I thought you were going to California? Sam was questioning her. Blake wasn’t crazy about how she was looking at Sam. Something about her was off.

“Oh, I did. I came, I saw, I conquered. Oh, and I met what's-his-name, something Michael Murray at a bar.” Blake rolled her eyes when Sam had no idea who she was talking about. “Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I'm living here for a while.” Dean was trying to get their attention but was being ignored so Blake interjected herself into the conversation.

“You’re from Chicago?” Blake Feigned interest.

“No, Massachusetts—Andover. Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we'd run into each other?” She was gushing and trying way too hard.

“Yeah, I know, I thought I'd never see you again.” “Well, I'm glad you were wrong.” Blake wanted to puke. This girl was laying it on thick and was super fake. Sam finally acknowledged her and Dean. 

“Meg, this is, uh—this is my brother, Dean and our best friend Blake.” Meg didn’t try to mask her surprise.

“This is Dean?” Meg completely ignored Blake. Dean gave Meg his Winchester grin.

“So, you've heard of me?”

“Oh, yeah. I've heard of you. Nice—the way you treat your brother like luggage. Why don't you let him do what he wants to do? Stop dragging him over God's green earth.”

“Um excuse you bitch. Don’t talk to him like that. You don’t even know him.” Blake pushes her way infront of Dean. Sam jumped in before it escalated any further.

“Blake stop. Meg, it's all right.” Blake didn’t know if she wanted to punch Sam or Meg more. 

Dean let out a low whistle before speaking. “Okay, awkward. We’re gonna get a drink now. C’mon sweetheart.” Dean took Blake’s hand and led her towards the bar. Dean was making eyes at Blake once they got away from Sam and Meg and Blake was ignoring him. “You’re pretty sexy when you play white knight to my damsel.” When she turned and looked at him, her expression told him he shouldn’t have said that.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me? I’m sure you said something similar to our bartender and your friend at the Police Station.” Her arms were crossed in-front of her further showcasing her irritation. “Screw this. I’m heading back to the motel. Enjoy your drinks.” Before Dean could stop her she was headed out the door and across the street to their motel.

A little while later Sam and Dean we’re heading out to the Impala. “So Bee is going to be in a mood when we get back.” Sam hated when Blake was mad. She did an excellent job of punishing them when they crossed her.

“Yeah she’s pissed at both of us. But this Meg. Who the hell was she?” Sam shrugged at Dean.

“I don't really know. I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don't know, man, it's weird.” 

“And what was she saying? I treat you like luggage? What, were you bitchin' about me to some chick?” Dean was pissed too. He’d never laid eyes on her before. Sam sighed.

“Look, I'm sorry, Dean. It was when we had that huge fight when I was in that bus stop in Indiana. But that's not important, just listen—“

“Well, is there any truth to what she's saying? I mean, am I keeping you against your will, Sam?”

“No, of course not. Now, would you listen? I think that there's something strange going on here, like our kind of strange. Like, maybe even a lead. I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don't think that's a little weird?” Dean wasn’t so sure.

“I don't know, random coincidence. It happens.” Dean shrugged off Sam’s suspicions.

“Yeah, it happens, but not to us. Look, I could be wrong, I'm just sayin' that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on.” Dean gave Sam another smirk.

“Well, I bet you'd like to. I mean, maybe she's not a suspect, maybe you've got a thing for her. Maybe you're thinking a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?” Sam groaned. 

“Do me a favor. Go talk to Blake and make sure she’s okay. She’s been on edge for a few weeks. Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith's floor. I'm gonna watch Meg.” Sam rolled his eyes as Dean started laughing. I just wanna see what's what. Better safe than sorry.”

“All right, you little pervert. You just want to avoid Blake until I calm her down.” Sam gave Dean a dirty look, getting irritated look. “I’m going... I'm going.” Dean gave Sam one last grin and headed across the street to their Motel.

Dean was sitting at the computer researching Meg waiting for Blake to come out of the bathroom. She had been taking a bath when he got back. Not that she had responded to him when he called her name, but he could smell her bubble bath as the scent seeped under the bathroom door. She had been moody for days. He knew it was from the lack of sleep and stress, but it was still unsettling none the less. She never got jealous. He flirted with women in front of her all of the time. He would be lying if he didn't admit to himself that it thrilled him that she got jealous over him. Sam had made it clear that Blake had moved on, but he never would. She would always own a part of him, no matter where life took them. He looked up when he heard the bathroom door open and his mouth went dry. Her curly hair was pulled back into what was her signature messy bun and she was clad in what seemed to be the shortest charcoal pajama shorts he had ever seen her in and a matching cropped tank top. If she was trying to punish him to prove a point, it was working. When she ignored him and went to her bag, Dean picked up his cell phone to call Sam to distract himself.

Blake smirked internally at the expression on Dean's face. She knew what she was doing to him, and he deserved it. She pretended to not pay any attention to him, she knew it was childish, but she couldn't help herself. She looked over when she heard his voice and knew he was talking to Sam. 

"Let me guess. You're lurkin' outside that poor girl's apartment, aren't you?" She wished she could hear Sam's end of the conversation "You've got a funny way of showin' your affection... Sorry, man, she checks out. There is a Meg Masters in the Andover phone book. I even pulled up her high school photo. Now, look, why don't you go knock on her door and, uh, invite her to a poetry reading, or whatever it is you do, huh?" Blake rolled her eyes at Dean's teasing.  "Yeah, that I did have some luck with. The symbol, It's, uh—turns out it's Zoroastrian. Very, very old school, like two thousand years before Christ. It's a sigil for a Daeva. It translates to "demon of darkness". Zoroastrian demons, and they're savage, animalistic, you know, nasty attitudes—kind of like, uh, demonic pit bulls." Dean paused while Sam responded. "Give me some credit, man. You don't have a corner on paper chasing around here... No, I called Dad's friend, Caleb. He told me, all right?" Dean had a look of defeat on his face. Truth be told, he was just as smart as Sam, he just hid it from everyone. Dean continued his conversation with Sam. "Anyway, here's the thing—these Daevas, they have to be summoned, conjured. And, from what I gather, it's pretty risky business, too. These suckers tend to bite the hand that feeds them. And, uh, the arms, and torsos." Blake turned to focus on what Dean was saying. As much as she wanted to play the game with him, this was too important to not really listen. "Well, nobody knows what they look like, nobody's seen ‘em for a couple of millennia. I mean, summoning a demon that ancient? Someone really knows their stuff. I think we've got a major player in town. Now, why don't you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?" Blake snickered. One of Dean's favorite forms of entertainment was torturing Sam.  "No, bite her. Don't leave teeth marks, though—Sam? Are you—?"   Dean pulled his phone away from his ear and looked at it, Sam had clearly hung up on him. 

"I mean, I'm surprised he didn't hang up on you sooner." Blake kept her voice even. Her heart was racing and her hands felt sweaty. Dean hadn't made her nervous in a long time, but the look in his eyes made the butterflies in her stomach come alive. His green eyes narrowed on her, lips slightly pursed. All she wanted to do was grab his face and kiss him, to make him forget about the bartender and any other girl he had ever encountered.

"So she speaks. Still mad at me sweetheart?" He watched as her nostrils flared slightly and then she turned away from him. He stood when she didn't respond and she felt his presence behind her and then his breath on her neck. "I asked you a question you know." He watched as goosebumps erupted down her neck and shoulder. It made him proud to know that he could still affect her like that. 

"I heard you Dean." Her voice was low and breathy. She felt his hands on her hips.  She didn't think that he could stand any closer to her. He was so close he had to be able to feel her heart pounding. She felt the stubble on his chin scratch against her shoulder. She didn't understand how her mouth could go dry and water at the exact same time. 

"It's rude to ignore people. Does it still make you jealous? Me flirting with other girls?" "Think about how you would feel if you saw me fawning over a cute detective or getting the number of a bar tender? Going home with him. Letting him touch me." 

"I would hate it. It would drive me insane.” He admitted. She felt his nose against her ear. This shouldn't be happening, they shouldn't be this close, but she didn't have it in her to push him away or tell him no. She groaned when she felt his teeth graze her earlobe. "It drives me crazy even thinking about it." She held her breath as he kissed down her neck and shoulder. She felt his hand slide around to her stomach and he pulled her tighter. She was wrong, he could get closer to her. 

"Dean..." Her voice came out in a whine. Her mind was trying to protest. There was too much at stake for the two of them to get distracted. 

"Do you ever think about that night?" She swallowed but didn't answer. "I know you know what I'm talking about. That night at the beach, before everything went to hell. I think it about it all the time. You and me, your skin against mine. I've never not thought about it. It was the best night of my life. You know I'd always choose you, over anyone else. It's always you." Her heart overran her brain and she turned herself to face him. Their eyes locked and his lips were crashing into hers. Years of need and want coming out in the kiss. She felt his hands roaming her body as she ran hers up the back of his neck into his hair. She loved him. She had always loved him. She always would. It was always Dean. She peeled his button down off his torso, running her hands down his arms and underneath his shirt. He was pulling on her bottom lip with his teeth and then plunging his tongue back into her mouth. She felt his hand slide up and he grazed her nipple with his thumb over her top. His other arm circled her waist and his hand spreading across the small of her back. Kissing him was like something inside of her was coming up for air. She became alive. Where this was going, they would never know because Sam burst into the room at they jumped apart. Blake rushed into the bathroom shutting the door behind her and leaned against it. 

There was no way Sam didn't know what was going on when he walked in. What the hell was she doing? It was a bad idea, she knew it was a bad idea. But it was Dean. Bad idea or not, her want for him out rode any common sense she had. She heard Sam talking when she opened the door after she had composed herself.

"Looks like she was using that black altar to control the thing. She was talking into that bowl, The way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone." Sam's and Blake's eyes met and she felt the heat creep up her face. 

"Who was she communicating with? The Daeva?" She asked, cringing as her voice cracked. 

"No, like Dean said, those things were savages. No, this was someone different. Someone who's giving her orders. Someone who's coming to that warehouse." Sam and Blake watched Dean as the wheels in his head were clearly turning. He sat down at the table looking through some files. 

"Holy crap." Blake and Sam gave Dean a questioning look and he continued. 

"What I was gonna tell you earlier—I pulled a favor with my – my – friend, Amy, over at the police department.." He barely made eye contact with Blake as she crossed her arms in front of her. "The complete records of the two victims—we missed something the first time. The first victim, the old man—he spent his whole life in Chicago, but he wasn't born here. He was born in Lawrence, Kansas. Meredith, second victim—turns out she was adopted. And guess where she's from? Lawrence, Kansas." Blake visibily went pale and Sam sat down next to Dean at the table with a look of disbelief.

"Holy Crap. I mean, it is where the demon killed Mom. That's where everything started. So, you think Meg's tied up with the demon?" Blake stood quietly as the two brothers were reeling.

"I think it's a definite possibility."

"What I don't understand is what's the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?" The boys looked over at Blake as she posed the question.

Dean shrugged at her. "Beats me. But I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation." Sam shook his head at Dean. "No, we can't. We shouldn't tip her off. We've gotta stake out that warehouse. We've gotta see who, or what, is showin' up to meet her. "

"Sam's right. We need to know who is giving this Meg chick the orders to do this. There's a chance we wont get her to tell us if we interrogate her. It's a wasted opportunity." Dean hummed in agreement.

"I'll tell you one thing. I don't think we should do this alone." Blake watched as Dean pulled out his cell, undoubtedly to call John as she and Sam went out to the car to get together some weapons. 

"So...sorry for interrupting earlier." Sam finally said after a few moments of them silently loading up the bag. 

"Stop. I'm not doing this right now."

"Bee...it's okay. I'm not going to make fun of you. I just wish you guys would give in and be together." Blake stopped and looked at him, studying the sincerity on Sam's face.

"Sam...I just...I can't...I don't know. I think instead of resolving anything things are just more complicated and fucked up. But right now we have to focus on this." Sam nodded, he took her hand and squeezed it and then went back to loading up the back. As they entered the room again, they caught the tail end of Dean's voicemail to John.

"We think we've got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom. So, uh, this warehouse—it's 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can." Dean hung up and looked over at Sam and Blake carrying two full bags. "Jesus, what'd you get?" Both Blake and Sam grinned.

"We ransacked that trunk. Holy water, every weapon that I could think of, exorcism rituals from about a half dozen religions. I'm not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything" Dean nodded and the three of them began loading their guns. After a while, Dean finally spoke."Big night." 

Sam looked over at Dean. "Yeah. You nervous?" 

"No. Why, are you?" Sam smiled at Dean.

"No. No way.  God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon?"

"We probably shouldn't get ahead of ourselves. You know, counting chickens and what not." Blake looked at both of the brothers and Sam shrugged. 

"I'm just saying, what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I'd sleep for a month. Go back to school—be a person again. " Both Dean and Blake's eyebrows shot up, but Dean was the first to respond.

"You- You wanna go back to school?"

"Well Yeah, once we're done hunting the thing.  Why, is there somethin' wrong with that?" Blake was praying this didn't end up in an argument. Dean took a deep breath to try and quell whatever he was feeling. 

"No. No, it's, uh, great. Good for you. Sam." 

Sam considered Dean for a moment before speaking. "I mean, what are you gonna do when it's all over?"

"It's never gonna be over. There's gonna be others. There's always gonna be something to hunt."

"But there's got to be somethin' that you want for yourself—" Dean interrupted Sam before he finished.

"Yeah, I don't want you to leave the second this thing's over, Sam."

"Dude, what's your problem?" Blake held her breath as Dean was silent for a few moments thinking before he responded. She wanted to punch Sam. How did he not get it?

"Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Huh? I mean, why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place?"

"‘Cause Dad was in trouble. ‘Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom."

"Yes, that, but it's more than that, man."  Blake stopped loading the back, incredibly interested in Dean's explanation. "You, Blake, me and Dad—I mean, I want us….I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again. " Blake felt her eyes fill with tears. She didn’t realize until they very moment that she wanted that too. She missed the way things were before too. All day, almost every day with Dean and Sam. Seeing John regularly. 

"Dean, we are a family. I'd do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before." The look on Dean's face broke Blake's heart. Sam continued. "I don't want them to be. I'm not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you're gonna have to let me go my own way." Sam grabbed his stuff and headed out of the door to the Impala. Blake stood there for a moment and Dean turned to her.

"Are you going to leave me too when this is done?" The intensity in his eyes took her breath away. She crossed over to him and threw her arms around his neck and held him tightly to her.

"I'm never leaving you again. I promise you. Whether Sam stays or goes, whether your father stays with us or goes out on his own. It'll be you and me, always. I told you when you came to a California that the life Sam wants, it’s not for me. It didn’t stick. This is what I want ."

"Pinky Promise?" She heard him say into her shoulder. She closed her eyes for a moment and kissed his cheek.

"Always Dee.”

Blake, Sam and Dean climbed the elevator gate and reached the top room of the warehouse to see Meg at the altar speaking the ancient language Sam bears when he was there before. The 3 of them quietly squeezed their way through the small space near the grate. Blake was shocked when she heard Meg’s voice.

“Guys...hiding is a bit childish don’t you think? Why don’t you come out?” Blake’s adrenaline was pumping. Something about this was very very wrong. “Sam, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, tell me about it” Dean was looking around.

“So, where's your little Daeva friend?” Meg smirked. 

“Around. You know, that shotgun's not gonna do much good.”  Dean didn’t miss a beat.

“Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. The shotgun's not for the demon.” Blake was about to say something but Sam beat her to it.

“So, who is it, Meg? Who's coming? Who are you waiting for?” Blake’s eyes went wide when she saw the shadows forming on the walls.

“You, of course.” Meg grinned. The shadow demon knocked Sam to the ground and threw Dean and Blake into a pile of crates. Blake felt her neck snap back and the corner of a crate knocked her unconscious.

When Blake came to, she and the boys were tied to separate posts. Sam and Dean were next to each other while there was a decent distance between the two of them and her. She felt bile rising in her throat as her head pounded. She vaguely heard Sam and Dean as she concentrated on not emptying her stomach.

“This, the whole thing, was a trap. Running into you at the bar, following you here, hearing what you had to say. It was all a set-up, wasn't it? And that the victims were from Lawrence?”

Meg laughed and shrugged. “It doesn't mean anything. It was just to draw you in, that's all.”

Blake furrowed her eyebrows. “You killed those two people for nothing?!” Meg laughed at her.

“Baby, I've killed a lot more for a lot less.” Blake shivered, her head still pounding. When Meg’s attention turned to Dean, Blake started working on getting the rope around her wrist cuts with the small knife up her Sleeve. Dean smiled at Meg. “You trapped us. Good for you. It's Miller time. But why don't you kill us already?” Meg scoffed.

“Not very quick on the uptake, are we? This trap isn't for you.”

Sam’s face lit up with recognition. “Dad. It's a trap for Dad.”

Dean laughed at Meg again. “Oh, sweetheart—you're dumber than you look. 'Cause even if Dad was in town, which he is not, he wouldn't walk into something like this. He's too good.”

“He is pretty good. I'll give you that.” Meg walked over to Dean and straddled his legs. Blake worked harder ready to rip her face off. “But you see, he has one weakness. You. He lets his guard down around his boys and pseudo daughter, lets his emotions cloud his judgment. I happen to know he is in town. And he'll come and try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody—nice and slow and messy.” Blake knew Meg was right. Trap or not, John Winchester would come.

“Well, I've got news for ya. It's gonna take a lot more than some….shadow to kill him.” Dean had so much faith in his father. 

“Oh, the Daevas are in the room here—they're invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see.” Blake was almost free when Sam started talking.

“Why you doin' this, Meg? What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh? And with who?” 

“I'm doing this for the Same reasons you do what you do—loyalty. Love. Like the love you had for Mommy—and Jess.” Sam told her to go to Hell. “Baby, I'm already there. Come on, Sam. There's no need to be nasty. I think we both know how you really feel about me. You know, I saw you watching me—changing in my apartment. Turned you on, didn't it? I didn't mind. I liked that you were watching me. Come on, Sammy. You and I can still have a little dirty fun.” Blake was certain she was going to vomit when Meg started kissing Sam’s neck. She stopped when she heard Dean messing with the knife and ropes behind him. “Now, were you just trying to distract me while your brother cuts free?” Sam smiled at her.

“No. No. That's because I have a knife of my own.” Sam broke free at the same time Blake did. He head butted her as Blake ran for the Altar and flipped it over and watched as the Shadow Demon appeared and went after Meg. The last thing Blake remembered seeing was Meg go over the ledge before the searing pain in her head caused everything to go black.

Blake remained unconscious when the Shadow Demon attacked the three of them and John. Luckily it hadn’t laid hands on her. Dean looked in the rear view mirror of the car and watched her for a moment. He had laid her in the back. He knew she was going to be furious when she woke up and found out John had been there and left before she woke up and had a chance to talk to him. Dean knew she had questions of her own.

John had sat down on the bed next to Blake and brushed the hair off of her forehead with a distant smile. Regardless of what had happened he missed her and much as Blake missed him. He had protected her from the Demon and thrown her over his shoulder to get her out of that hotel room. John hesitated leaving and stared at her for a moment. He kissed her forehead and told Dean to tell her he was sorry and that he would see her soon.

“Should we have taken her to the hospital?” Sam looked back at Blake with worried eyes.

“Maybe? I don’t know. She would be even more pissed than she’s already going to be.”

“I still think he should have stayed with us.” Dean was exhausted and he couldn’t have this argument with Sam again so he focused on the road. “Dean- what’s...what’s going on with the two of you?” Dean looked over at Sam.

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Do you want to be with her?” Dean looked at Blake in the rear view mirror again.

“If that’s what she wants. I think she’s scared.” Sam nodded.

“I know she is. Dean, just be careful okay?”

“What? You really think I’d hurt her?”

“God no- the opposite. I think if anyone hurt anyone, she’d hurt you. Not intentionally. She’s like a baby deer, spooks easily.” Dean looked over at Sam.

“I’ll give her anything she wants. She wants me? I’m hers. She wants someone else and I’ll walk her down the aisle.” Sam looked over at the serious look on Dean’s face.

“Trust me. She marries anyone it’ll be you. I don’t know that she will ever trust anyone else the way she does you.” Sam saw a ghost of a smile on Dean’s face as he looked at you again. “Just give her time to realize she wants it.”

It had been weeks since John disappeared again and Blake was still raging. Dean admitted that Sam had wanted John to stay. Dean didn’t want Sam to be punished for the decision Dean and John made. It had been weeks and Blake was still ragingly angry. She had left John a few voicemails with some choice words. For Dean, she had no words. Dean wasn’t surprised she wasn’t talking to him. He knew she thought John had answers about her mother, but it wasn’t the time. With their closing in on the yellow eyed demon, the focus had to be there. Whatever was on deck for Blake would have to wait.l, so Dean let her punish him with silence and glares.

He knew she was pissed when the motels that didn’t have a couch had her sharing a bed with Sam, which meant she slept even less than usual. A sleep deprived pissed off Blake was treacherous and it seemed everything Dean did pissed her off. He wished she would get over it, but he knew that wasn’t happening any time soon. It seemed like any time the two of them got close to being something...John or Sam somehow ended up muddying the waters. Blake became increasingly obsessed with finding as much info about her mother and her past as she could. She refused to work the cases that John pointed them to. She sat out the last 3, doing her own thing in each town. She didn’t tell Sam what she was doing or what she was looking for. As far as Sam knew, she was rebelling against Dean and John. 

Sam was sure Blake had never been this quiet in her life. Blake was a talker who couldn’t stand long stretches of silence. She spent most of her time glued to her laptop or earbuds in her ears while in the car. The tension in the car rides was getting to Sam. Plus they could have really used her help during this case in Poughkeepsie. She would have figured it out a lot quicker than he and Dean had.

So Sam was going to stay behind with Sarah for a bit. He and Dean decided it was time to take a breather until they knew what their next steps from John were. Blake and Dean would be on the move and Sam would join them later. He was hoping the time alone would allow them to figure their crap out. He wanted to be just that Blake was keeping something from him, but he knew her. She kept things close to the vest until she had all of the information. Dean was the keeper of most of her secrets. But Sam had a few of hers too. The relationship between Blake and Dean was special. Sam has finally come to realize that he didn’t need to be jealous. She was his best friend, but she was hopelessly in love with his brother. She just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

Blake approached Sam with the biggest smile he’d seen on her face in weeks and it was genuine. He knew it was because she was happy that he was ready to move on from Jess. It amazed him that no matter how messed up she felt on the inside, she always tabled it when she had a reason to be happy for someone else. Her empathy was moving. She threw her arms around his neck to hug him and squealed when he lifted her off the ground.

“I’m proud of you Sammy. Jess would be too. She wouldn’t want you holding on to her. She’d want you to be happy. You deserve a little happiness. But if shit gets weird, you call me and I’ll rescue you.” He laughed, deep down in his belly

.

“My hero.” She kissed his cheek after he set her down. “You going to be okay?” He looked over at the Impala and Dean. She nodded her head. “Look- I know there’s something you’re not telling me. And it’s okay. I know it’s something he knows and it has to do with my Dad. Just- maybe forgive him okay? Or at least try for me. He was terrified that night that something was going to happen to my Dad. And then you and the blow to the head...he knew you were going to be angry and trust me, he struggled. But he did what he thought would keep everyone the safest. And you not talking to him? It’s killing him. Please, while In gone, figure it out. We need you in cases. You’re too smart. And when you’re ready, you can tell me about it.” He saw tears in her eyes. She was tough as nails but had absolutely no poker face when it came to her emotions.

  “I love you Sammy. Oh! I put condoms in your bag. Don’t be silly, cover your willy.” She pointed at him and doubled over laughing when his face got bright red. 

“I hate you.” He mumbles and walked her over to the car and opened her door for her. “Oh, and Bee, I took your ear buds.” He slammed the door before she could react. And hit the top of the Impala to signal that Dean could take off. She crossed her arms in front of her and sunk down in her seat. Dean looked over at her. Angry or not, she looked adorable when she pouted.

Blake hadn't said two words since they had gotten in the car. It had taken Dean a while to decide where they were going to go and then it was like a light bulb went off in his head. He was desperate to make things with Blake right, so he headed towards Maryland. Blake loved the coast. She loved the salty ocean air. She always clarified that she hated dirty muddy lakes, but the ocean made her come alive. Dean knew it was nostalgic. Her beginning years she had lived in Virginia near the coast. He had seen her face a few times when the ocean air blew through her hair, he rarely saw her at peace like that.

He looked over at her, his eyes raked over her bare legs in her denim shorts and tank top. She might be pissed at him, but it didn't stop her from stealing one of his button downs. He couldn't stop himself, he reached over and took her hand and held it tight when she tried to yank it away. He kept his eyes on the road as her eyes burned with fury as she stared at him. She pulled her right knee up to her chest and rested her chin on it. He felt her hand relax and then she laced her fingers within his. He felt the first tiny crack in her icy exterior.  Dean smiled to himself. By the time Sam was back, he was convinced they'd be back to normal. He saw the second crack form when the recognition of where they were headed hit her. She knew Dean was taking her somewhere along the East Coast. He felt her squeeze his hand in anticipation. She still hadn't said anything, but the squeeze of his hand was all he needed. He looked at the gas gauge and decided to pull off into the Gas and Sip that was coming up on the right. After he had set the gas up to pump he came around the car as Blake was getting out. After she shut her door she turned around to head into the store but Dean had her caged in by both hands on each side of her on the Impala.

"I'm not letting you go until we talk. Actually talk, no yelling or swearing at me." He saw the stubbornness flash in her eyes. He knew at that moment is more about her standing her ground than actually still being mad at him. "I'm not kidding. We'll stay right here. Sammy can come meet us at this gas station when he's done with whatever it is he's doing. When Blake tried to look away he hooked his right hand under her chin and turned her face back to him. "I said I was sorry. I know you're pissed. I know he wont call you back. I'm sorry. I was too afraid that being with us was going to get him killed. I was even more afraid that him being with us would get YOU killed. You were unconscious for hours. You missed a demon attack. If you hadn't woken up when you did, you would have woken up in a hospital. I was terrified. And what if he was with us and the Yellow Eyed Demon showed and you couldn't defend yourself? It's after my father now. You being anywhere near him isn't safe." Blake swallowed the lump in her throat. The truth was, she wasn't angry with Dean, not anymore. She was just angry and she was childishly taking it out on him because she didn't have any place else to direct it. She felt the pad of his thumb swipe an errand tear off of her cheek. 

"You're right." She finally relented.

"I'm sorry...one more time for those in the back row?" She glared at him and he gave her his winning Winchester grin.

"I'm just so angry Dean. I feel like it's going to bubble over the top. I feel like if I don't direct it at something it's going to consume me. I was mad at you when I found out, and it was easier to just stay mad at you than to try and navigate this. I'm sorry for abandoning you and Sam on the last few cases. I just...I...I don't know what to do with myself. I keep feeling the edges of memories pushing to break through the seams, but they just can't shake loose. I know your father knows something...I know he's keeping something from me. And I should know what it is. I wasn't a baby when they died...when they killed her. I was 12. I should remember better."

"I promise you...we will figure this out. I just, I can only deal with one crisis at a time. This thing that killed my mom and Jess...we're closest to that. Let's see it through and then I swear to you that I will do whatever I can to help you put the pieces together. I'll hunt my father down myself, regardless of what he wants I will make him give you answers. Just hang in there with me for a little bit longer sweetheart, okay?" Blake nodded. Dean pressed his lips to her forehead and wrapped his arms around her for a moment with his chin on the top of her head. "Alright, go in, grab us some snacks. And if you promise not to come out with any of the crap you buy Sam I'll let you choose the music until we get to Ocean City." Blake beamed at him with a knowing smile. He watched her walk into the store, his shirt flowing behind her, ready to enjoy a few relaxing and tension free days with her.

[ruffylorpship]

Introduction: Unfortunate Partners in Life

Right, I made the introduction chapter for this AU I created called Mindshare and I haven’t written anything in so long! I’ll definitely be expanding on this but for now, everything will be its own story with a slice of their life over the years.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21007967

I hope this can grow into something bigger once I get everything down. Gah I wish I had more time ;.; Hope you guys enjoy it! For people who don’t want to go to AO3 I’ll post the introduction under the cut~

Awareness seeped into his brain. He had finally awakened.

Systems were running as they were supposed to. All knowledge pertaining to the Armada’s history and the current objective was loaded. The file given designated him as a science drone to assist in building technology for the upcoming invasion titled Impending Doom. Red errors popped up in his mind’s eye, but he cast them aside, knowing that starting up always smooths out later. He identified himself as the Irken Zim, ready to serve the Empire and the Almighty Tallest. Zim wanted to make sure he was fully functional and ready for duty, so he took his time to run a diagnostic on his pak. Surely his leaders would want him at full-functioning capacity, and he would not let them down during his first moments of existing.

More warnings were popping up, irritating Zim and causing him to dismiss them all in a rush. He had to hurry and open his optics. The world would not wait for him forever to complete his own internal mission and join the rest in glory.

Muffled voices broke through the fog before the world was abruptly ripped away from him. He screamed to himself in the darkness of his brain, not understanding what had gone wrong. Any attempt to send a distress signal from the pak commands were unresponsive, causing his mind to retreat further into the machinery. For a short while, he could feel the cool metal floor of his smeetery chamber and hear the voices of those that would prepare him for the future. For a little bit, Zim had felt complete. Now, in this prison that housed his consciousness, he didn’t know what to do.

XXX

Maybe the armada was testing him? That could have been the answer. The mighty Zim wasn’t going to be decommissioned before proving his own worth! He would wait patiently for them to replug him back into his body and show his Tallest how functional he was. There were a few alerts about intense environmental conditions from the outside, but that was nothing to worry about. The pak was the finest technology in all of Irk. Zim would be safe unt-

XXX

Screaming. A horrible pitiful wail tore through the air. Something was terribly wrong. Only one optic nerve seemed to be working. He breathed in a gasp and paused, realizing something else wasn’t making sense. He was taking in air despite irkens not having to truly breathe. The only conclusion he could come up with was that his pak had latched onto the closest object to reawaken itself, which in this case was another life form. His pak must have gotten lost in space and landed on a distant planet.

Usually, this would be a downgrade from his superior self, but Zim saw this as a perfect opportunity to get back to his body using this borrowed vessel. If he was attached to something that was not his own irken flesh, the creature he was stuck to would eventually die off and give him complete control. Strangely, the repair protocols were being activated, feeding themselves into the life-form and repairing strange damage that couldn’t be properly identified. The energy needed being too great caused Zim to fall back into a dormant state.

XXX

Eyes blinked open, but everything seemed to be slightly blurred. Against the odds, the creature he was attached to was still alive if not a little broken. It seemed to have it’s own mind intact as well. Impressive for a less superior species. Zim could feel the weight of its presence clinging to him like a filthy growth. The mind was not inside his pak, for only one could be encoded to the machine and was binding for life. With no defenses inhabiting the organic squishy brain of the other organic Zim took a chance and pushed through to take control once more, also hoping the other mind would disappear forever. The brightness swam through eyes not his own. A giant stinky monster in some sort of clothing hovered over him, as tall as the Almighty Tallest and draped in white cloth. His eyes were covered by protective gear and his giant gloved hands reached down to pick Zim up, making him realize the host he was attached to was extremely small.

‘Warm...’ Zim thought in awe as he was able to feel for the first time since he had been plugged in. An echo of the same thought came back.

“Why hello there son! My my, you gave the boys and I such a big scare. Turns out that the device is keeping you nice and stable. No more termination for you today.”

‘Termination? Death? How dare this creature try and dispose of me! It will suffer the wrath of Zim!’

With as much power as he could Zim waved his clawless hand in front of the giant face and hissed menacingly. His strength tired out quickly however and he seemed to be pushed back into the background once again, aware that the vessel he housed had started crying again.

“Uhh sir? Why was your child hissing?”

“Oh, it’s probably nothing. He just recovered from a traumatic experience of near-death after all. There there little Dib, no more crying for tonight.” The creature cooed while attempting to rock the crying alien smeet.

‘Shut your whining you worm creature, your yelling is worse than the sqorchmurfs of planet Brakiclax!’

It cried harder as if to defy him. Oh, the creature would pay dearly when he gets control back. He could feel the pain and confusion seeping through the mental connection, creating a small barrage of half baked thoughts that could barely count as actual words or images.

It was literally a primitive smeet without knowledge or understanding. The blankest slate in the universe. Just great… The pain of the creature's emotions was getting progressively worse, causing Zim to try and console the little creature in hopes of getting it to finally quiet.

‘Um... there there little Dib-thing? Shut up so the big monster will put us down!’

Funny enough, the creature now tagged in his database as 'The Dib' stopped its crying and changed his tone to a soft whimper. After he was hooked back up to the medical equipment for monitoring and the giant creatures left, Zim made sure his host was unconscious again before extending a wire from his pak to plug into the mainframe. He had some learning to do.

XXX

Zim tried piloting the tiny legs towards the machine, already imagining many ways to blow up the miserable planet. He discovered the rock was called Earth. It’s natives called ‘humans’ dominated the land with their stink and filth. He figured his pak must have accidentally been misplaced and jettisoned into space, eventually making his way to the far uncharted planet. Even though the earth was not marked for conquering in his database he decided he would take it over and present it as an offering to his Tallest. Even though he was supposed to be a science drone hopefully doing this for his leaders would give him a promotion of joining the Invaders in conquest.

He had overheard with his overly large borrowed ears that the latest machinery the parental unit had created could potentially plunge the world into darkness. Taking over the power would surely ensure that control would be handed to Zim! This would be easier if he waited for the body he was borrowing to grow out of smeethood but there was no time to lose.

The door was big, but nothing his pak legs couldn’t fix. Making sure to not make a sound he crept into the room and prepared to take out the scientists that were hard at work in the lab. Before he could reactivate his legs to engage in attack mode the smeet woke up and started fighting his mind. Not expecting much resistance, Zim prepared his attack again only to have his body sit back down on the cold floor and cross his arms in protest.

‘Give me back control you useless stinky smeet!’

‘No!’

An unexpected reply making him pause in his efforts. The thing had barely been cognitive for weeks. The only exposer it had to the outside world was through the giant humans and through himself… wait…

‘Have you been leaching from me? You’ve been looking at the same resources I have and gathering intel from the mighty ZIM!?’

‘No…’

Well it certainly had a one-track mind, expected of a primitive life form, but ultimately a hindrance.

‘Give me back control and shut down into a sleep cycle for the night you waste of space!’

‘No no no no no no bad no!’

The ultimate temper tantrum resulted in the body rolling along the floor like a sad fleshy ball, which is how the scientists found the smeet later in the night. The pitiful worm-baby had won this round for now.

XXX

“No school! Please no school! Noooo!”

Dib cried as he pulled harder from his father’s gloved grip. He had to pretend to be as smart as a normal kid so his dad wouldn’t try and force him into science bonding time. Dib prefered the quiet life of searching the internet for new things to learn. He didn’t need to be near other people so they could make fun of his life support and his silly hair. Sadly his dad didn’t really seem to agree with him sitting in his room all day.

“Now now Dib, you need room to grow and evolve. While your sister is sleeping I need you to unpack the books I got you so you can learn responsibility. I swear the only words you like to say since you’ve started talking are ‘no’ and ‘alien’ and both words are ridiculous in this household. Now hurry up, I have a science demonstration to attend to.”

With that his dad let go of his arm and hurried downstairs, leaving Dib to sulk on his bed. At five years old Dib Membrane had learned a lot about the world. Some of his teachings were through his father when he wasn’t busy. The internet was full of information, especially about strange and unexplained mysteries of the world that science had no real answers for. The last source was a bit more… unreliable and tended to be bad most of the time.

‘Your parental unit is so bossy…’ His inner voice grumbled as Dib started packing up the books into his arm bag. The life support made it impossible to use a normal backpack.

“You mean Dad?"

‘Yes! That’s what I said filthy worm-child!’

Dib rolled his eyes at the comment, noticing at the top left his glasses had a smudge. Another reason he didn’t want to go to school. The internet said people tended to have eye problems later in their life, while he had the luck to need them very early.

“You use big words a lot. Why are you so smart when I’m not?”

‘Ehh…That’s because… I was created with knowledge already programmed. Despite your fast learning capabilities, humans are born with blank slates and squishy matter that need stuff like time and repetition.’

That caused Dib to pause and scratch his head in confusion from the big words being thrown around, making a note to research them later on the internet. He already had a book filled with words the voice tended to throw around, making him want to understand.

“Aren’t you human?”

‘Yes yes! I am definitely a fully functioning monkey-child! I mean I am you but more superior with my technological upgrades… LEAVE ME ALONE!’

The volume inside his head caused him to wince, even though he knew it wasn’t real. It was strange. People don’t usually develop voices in their heads. Maybe the voice was part of his imagination, like an imaginary friend that also worked as a duel personality. He was smarter than most people his age, he knew that fact because his dad’s lab assistants always told him, but he was also a bit strange.

He stopped at the door, with his bag safely hanging from his right arm, hands pressed together in nervousness.

“I’m scared everyone is going to make fun of me. I’m too different. Why can’t I stay home? I learn enough on my own.”

He really didn’t expect the voice to reply back, but surprisingly it did with a bit of hesitation in its voice.

‘Despite how much I’d rather stay within the close confines of accessible technology, I agree with your parental unit when he says you need to grow and evolve. With height comes power, and with knowledge comes privilege to achieve what you must do. Don’t let those smelly man creatures be the boss of you. Beside’s, gathering intel from this wasteland of a planet will be beneficial for upcoming invas- I mean challenges.’

“You’re using too many big words again, but I feel a bit better. I want to find a real monster someday, and I need to learn about the world to get there. I know that much, I think? So…thanks voice. Or uhh… imaginary friend? I don’t really know what to call you. Maybe I should name you?”

‘I am no pet smeetling! You may address me as the Almighty Superior Leader Ruler Overlord and Master Zim!’

With one last roll of his eyes, Dib pushed the door open and made his way downstairs to meet his fate.

“Right, thanks Zim.”

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 27 [90%]

The tension was clear and almost unbearable as Tony gently took you from the roof and back to ground level. He didn’t say a single word, seemingly intent on ignoring Fury who was now sitting in a booth inside the restaurant, as he went to the counter and ordered three coffees instead. As if this were just another normal day.

Somehow, sooner than you’d realized, maybe this was what normal constituted in your life now. And you’d take hold of it any way you could. So long as that life could go on. No other option. At least not in your mind.

Finally he handed your coffee to you and you noticed the, now only, person manning the shop run away to the back. Probably a very keen sense of survival. The air in the room wasn’t exactly positive. Then Tony escorted you to sit on the inside of the booth, plopping Fury’s coffee down in front of him rather carelessly, and sat himself down next to you.

“So. What do you want? I already told you we’re not interested in joining your little Avengers tree house club.” Tony was keen on playing this as calm as possible, it seemed.

But opposite him you were alight with energy. Still… maybe Tony had the right idea, and it wasn’t smart to overplay your hand.

Fury feigned a laugh, lifting his coffee. “No- see, I remember. You two do everything yourselves. How’s that working out?” Taking a long sip after asking.

“It’s-...”

“We’re getting by.” Being humble was probably the best way to get out of this situation you and Tony had found yourselves in- or rather him and you merely by extension. There was no hiding that you’d asked for SHIELD’s help, and whether or not Coulson had led you to believe they weren’t actually going to, Fury was here now. That had to mean something. And you had to own up to it and take whatever he offered. Tony being pissed about that could be dealt with later.

When he was still alive to be mad about it.

“I’m sorry. I don’t wanna get off on the wrong foot, do I look at the patch or the eye?” Yet there he was, playing it up as always. Sitting forward, “Honestly, I’m a bit hungover. I’m not sure if you’re real or I’m having a hallucination.”

Fury sat up to meet him. “I am very real. I’m the realest person you’re ever gonna meet. Best you start taking notes from your girlfriend. She seems to be the brains of this operation.”

“Oh, hear that honey? I think then that’s my cue to go. The two big brains can handle this all on their own, right?” He was turned to look at you and all you could do was beg with your eyes for him to shut up and stop being a child.

“Hm. That’s not looking so good, is it?” Fury reached forward to tug at the metal line of the suit around Tony’s neck where the skin was red and the dark veins creeping higher.

“Been worse.” Tony answered flatly.

You put your hands on the table. “Look- are you here to help or just mock the situation?” There wasn’t much more of this you could take.

“Why don’t you direct some of that at him? Maybe you wouldn’t be where you are.”

It was starting to look like all SHIELD agents were the same. Annoying. Petty. Didn’t want to listen to anyone about anything. Maybe on some level it was fair, clearly they were dealing with much more than you knew, or could even understand. But god damn it. It was becoming infuriating.

A set of footsteps sounded behind you and before you could even think to look a voice came with them, “We’ve secured the perimeter but I don’t think we should hold it for too much longer.”

And there at the table was one Ms. Natalie Rushman. Clad all in black. The stunned look on your face seemed to urge a small smile from her, and a very huge grin from Fury.

“Huh. You’re… fired.” Tony was just as shocked as you it seemed. At least you weren’t the only one out of the loop.

“That’s not up to you.” Said plainly.

You looked up at her. “Is it up to me?” Because if so…

She sat down and Fury put an arm around her. “I want you two to meet Agent Romanoff.”

“I’m a SHIELD shadow. Once we knew you were both ill, I was tasked to watch the both of you by director Fury.” Said so calmly and plainly.

You tried to think back. Natalie- or rather… Natasha… she’d been around since… “You knew that long?” What Coulson said on the phone the night before briefly came to light in your mind. We’re aware of the situation. “So- what- why?” Confused entirely. What were they doing this whole time? Just spying on you- and for what-

“Correction on your super secret spy intel. It’s wrong. Illness. Singular. Just me.” Tony waved a finger around. “And also, I suggest you apologize.”

“You’ve been very busy.” Fury cut Tony’s complaining off and you looked at him. “You split the company together, you’re giving away all your stuff-” Waving his hand at you, “Becoming an overnight hero sensation in Monaco-” And then waved it back at Tony, “And you let your friend fly away with your suit! Now, if I didn’t know better-”

“You don’t know better.” Tony cut him off quick and hard. “I didn’t give it to him. He took it.”

At this you tried not to look too guilty. Fury was quick on the uptake. “Whoa whoa whoa. No- he took it? You’re Iron Man and he just took it? The little brother just walked in there, kicked your ass, and just took your suit.” Turning his head quickly to Natasha, “Is that possible?”

“Well according to Mr. Stark’s database security guidelines, there are redundancies to prevent unauthorized usage.”

It wasn’t the fact that Natasha knew all this. It was the fact that she was right. You’d wanted to junk the suit. Tony wouldn’t let you. But they knew all this already. Your upset got the better of you. “What do you want already? You’ve been snooping around for months now to do what? Have this sit down just to say we know better than you? You’re not busier than that?”

“What do we want? Nuh uh uh.” Fury shook his head quickly. Natasha suddenly got up and left. “What do you want from me?” Pointing right in your face. “You’re not gonna sit there and pretend you weren’t begging me for stuff on the phone last night.”

Your face went red hot. Either from shame, with the way Tony whipped to look at you, or anger at Fury’s insistence that he had no role in this other than to watch until you started, as he called it, begging. “What do you want, then? Why are you wasting everyone’s time with the theatrics? If I said something that interested you then get to the chase already.”

He scoffed and started in hard. “You both- you’ve become a problem- my problem. That I now have to deal with- and contrary to what you think, you’re not the center of my universe. I have bigger problems than you in the southwest region. And no little late night sob story changed my mind on that.” You opened your mouth to keep arguing, because oh you had only so much to unload on this asshole, but he snapped very suddenly. “Hit ‘em.”

That was about as much as you had to think about before a blinding pain sliced up the back of your neck and into your skull, sending you careening back against the booth with a sharp inhale paired with a yelp. “What did you do-” It only briefly registered that Tony’s voice was pained as well.

Quick as it came, the pain receded, a breath of fresh air coming with it. Things seemed… clear.

“You alright?” Tony asking you this before he turned to look at Natasha crouching near him, “Could you please not do anything awful for five seconds?”

“What did you do to him?” Turning to look at him, you saw the darkness of his skin start to recede. A cure?? If they had had that this whole time- you were about to unleash hell.

“What did we just do for him.” Fury corrected. Looking at Tony, “You just got a shot of lithium dioxide. It’s gonna take the edge off. We’re trying to get you back to work.”

“Give me a couple boxes of that I’ll be right as rain.” Tony’s voice was quieter now, a little bit more resigned. He’d had to show a lot of himself in this one meeting that he had not even asked for. This was going to be a tough conversation later.

“It’s not a cure. It just abates the symptoms.” Natasha said softly, standing at the side of the table again. So. Not a cure...

“And her?” You and Tony shared a look before you directed that glance back to Fury. You would have been happy to just know they’d helped him-

Natasha put her hands together, smiling, and your attention went to her next. There was a waft of guilt. “A prototype for nano CGRP inhibitors.”

“That’s stolen tech. And- rich- considering you were the one causing the problem.” Tony’s voice was very sharp.

“It’s not the root of that problem. And don’t get nasty with me. We did it for your own good. Fixed it up for you.” Fury was eyeing him down.

“You know- I’m getting real tired of people saying they’re acting out of good will for me. I never asked.”

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” You felt so lost. Everyone was talking around you and at your expense and you really had no idea what was going on.

Fury leveled a similarly annoyed look your way. “You and I can discuss that later.”

“No. We’ll discuss it now.” Tired of being in the shadows of your own life. Whatever it was, you wanted answers now. And after everything else you’d been through together, Tony deserved to know whatever it was, too.

His lips pressed together before he shook his head. “You’ve got no control of your own means. You’ve been hiding. And it’s causing problems. Agent Romanoff was given suppression tech to force you under the weather to keep her cover intact. But it crossed some wires we didn’t mean to.”

Tony exhaled a somehow simultaneous amused and annoyed breath. “If that’s the best you’ve got, it’s embarrassing. I spotted that a mile away. If the top secret shadow government agency needs consultation on their top secret shadow spy gear, I’d say all the more reason we don’t need to get involved.”

None of this made sense. “You knew?” How much of this was Tony in on, too? What the hell was actually going on here?

He frowned. “I saw her with it, the first time we met. Base level chemoreceptor trigger and melatonin cocktail. The possibility she was working for someone else, either trying to get company secrets, or just get to me, was pretty high. It just looked like she wanted you out of the picture.”

“So that’s why you...”

Why he forced her away. Took her with no concern for how you felt- or made it look that way. So that while you were in office meetings she would feasibly somewhere else next to him. Foolish. You were so foolish…

“I don’t have time to play couple’s counseling.” Fury, with a new fresh wave of annoyance. He pointed at Tony. “You need to clean yourself up. And it doesn’t look like it’s gonna be an easy fix.”

“Trust me. I know. I’m good at this stuff. I’ve been looking for a suitable replacement for Palladium. I have tried every combination, every permutation of every known element.” Resignation coming in hot and heavy. You slipped your hand over his underneath the table.

Fury smiled. “Well I’m here to tell you, you haven’t tried them all.”

“Then why not say something sooner?” You couldn’t help but let this shoot out of you, upset with just about every part of this.

“We had to see how desperate you could get.” He was letting himself up from the table, Natasha walking away again without so much as a wave. “And don’t think I don’t have your call with Agent Coulson on file. We’ll hold you to that.”

“What- you’re gonna drag her to some secret government court on a verbally binding contract? She was under duress.” Tony’s focus shifting from this shining light of hope that Fury was offering in your stead.

Fury merely turned and laughed. “Hardly. Though if this is all it takes to put her there, we’re gonna have a lot of problems. Find your way home. I’ll meet you there.” Just like that he walked through the door and was gone.

Leaving the two of you sitting uncomfortably. “Guess we should get going.” Until Tony said that and suddenly stood, helmet under his arm. You followed suit, expecting him to be walking already, causing you to bump into him when he hadn’t moved. His hand went to your arm to steady you, but then with a very careful finger, lifted your chin and angled your head away, leaning in. Probably scrutinizing the injection site. “You really feel alright?”

“I guess.” You didn’t feel terrible, so at least there was that. And your head was certainly clear. No pain. “You made that- whatever she just stuck inside me?”

“It wasn’t finished, technically. I’ll have JARVIS run some tests-”

“Tony...” Reaching up, you put your hands over his, turning your attention back his way. “Whatever Fury’s got, please focus on that first.”

Focus on you. Because you can’t die.

His smile was brief, the nod of his head somewhat disappointed. “Yeah. Alright. I mean what more have I got to lose.” His arm went around your shoulders, leading you out of the restaurant. “I wanted to be in Genoa all warm and cozy on a bed- but what did we get instead. The house is destroyed and government agents are crawling out of the vents.”

“You destroyed the house. And as much as I don’t like them either, they’re trying to help.” It didn’t need to be said that the reason he’d wanted to go to Genoa was to die. So any alternative to that was far better.

“Hm. Yeah.” Thoughtful as he slid his helmet on. Putting an arm around you, he lifted you up effortlessly, and you found yourself clinging to him as he took off. “What exactly did you promise them?”

“Myself.”

Anything and everything they wanted from you. So long as Tony lived…

“Yeah. Under duress. I wouldn’t worry about it. I won’t let them take you. Who else is gonna run the company for me?”

You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes despite your smile. “Well if that’s all you need me for...” You both knew that wasn’t even close to the truth.

“You didn’t have to do that. Call them. Ask for their help.” It was hard to really register his tone of voice with the helmet on.

“Clearly. Since they’ve been spying on us for a long time now.” Still irked about this. They’d made a complete fool out of you- and Tony, too. If they’d known for this long they really should have done something before. Natalie- Natasha had all the opportunity in the world to help Tony earlier.

“Yeah.” This you could hear was quieter above the whip of the wind around you. “...thanks.”

Even though you weren’t sure he could feel it properly, you wrapped your arms tighter around him and gave him a squeeze. “Any time.”

There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for him. You’d come to that realization a long time ago. If the two of you could get through this… there was nothing left for life to throw at you that you couldn’t conquer.

...right?

[merigdoen]

Avengers Fic Part 5: 1 of 2

Summary: You escaped a Hydra facility and have been out for revenge ever since. SHIELD wants to bring you in for questioning. The Avengers learn about your abilities and your past, you eventually join them.

Warnings: Partial nudity(character in bra), mild cursing, suggestive material

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Fury,” admitted Steve. The briefing room was in a flurry of arguments for each side. Tony and Banner were on one side, Nat was in the middle, while everyone else was against them. 

“We don’t know what she’s capable of. For all we know she could kill someone if we let her out!” argued Steve.

“We never said anything about ‘letting her out’, we’re just suggesting running some tests to understand her abilities more,” reasoned Banner.

“Yeah,” said Tony in an attempt to back Bruce up, “These tests can help us find out more about what she can do, and if the worst comes to worst we’ll lock her back up and forget this ever happened.”

“Leave it to Tony Stark to treat someone like a test subject instead of a person,” Steve fired back.

Tony’s mouth hung open and his eyes narrowed, “ ‘Test subject’? I never tested anything on her, you’re confusing me with the last guys. You know the ones who actually tested things on her? And you’re the one who’s suggesting locking her up for the rest of her life!”

Thor stepped in the middle of them, “She’s dangerous, therefore we shouldn’t let her out. Not to mention she’s killed dozens of people ever since she escaped Hydra.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you forget about Loki? He killed eighty people, in two days! Y/N killed less than that in three years! And besides, because of you,” Tony pointed a finger at Thor, “Loki walked free and he lives with us now! How is this any different?”

“Loki is family!”

Steve looked at Thor, “ ‘Family’? Bucky is my family and you all tried killing him. Tony, just because you can trust Bucky that doesn’t mean you can trust Y/N. Have you forgotten she almost killed Peter, doesn’t that matter to you?”

“Who said I trusted him? Hmm? And you think I’d forget something like that? How could I?”

Fury stepped towards them and waved his hand to cut them off, “Regardless of what you two have to say we need to make a decision. So, Stark and Banner, you want to run some tests on Y/N to study her abilities, and everyone else wants to keep her locked up. Does that sum it up?”

They all nodded their heads, “That means, Agent Romanoff, you’re the deciding vote. What you say goes.”

They all looked at her expectantly. She crossed her arms over her chest and took a deep breath and turned to Steve, “You’re not even a little curious as to how she does what she does?”

“Don’t tell me you agree with them,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“I never said I agree, but I mean what if these tests help us learn things? Like her strengths, weaknesses? If she causes another incident we’ll know how to stop her.”

“There won’t be another ‘incident’ because she isn’t leaving that cell.”

Tony stepped in, “Last time I checked Romanoff had the deciding vote,” he had an amused look on his face. 

Steve breathed, hard, through his nose and waited for Nat to decide. 

“I-I think we should do it.”

A series of groans were let out as the losing side complained about how bad the idea was.

“Yes!” Tony clapped his hands and turned to Banner, “Alright we need to prep everything. I’m thinking cell structure, brain scans, and looking at samples?”

“I was thinking the same thing! What about we also do a full body scan? Check out her eyes too?”

“Banner you’re a genius!” Tony turned to Steve, “Sorry Cap, but we’re gonna be a little busy running some tests.”

They exited the room with their heads bowed together, talking in fast voices, already thinking about how they would proceed with the tests.

Nat turned to Steve, “I’m sorry Steve, I just really think we should do this.”

He scoffed in response and turned to Fury, “Now what?”

“Now, we all head over to the lab, if we’re doing this I want all of you present so we can learn as much as possible about Y/N.”

~:~

They walked into the lab to see Tony and Banner running around the lab, connecting wires, starting up machines, and preparing the equipment. 

Fury watched Tony before talking, “I’ve sent down some agents to bring Y/N here. She’ll have special cuffs on that will stop her from teleporting. I want you all to wear these, so she can’t hear what you’re thinking.”

He handed out little ear pieces, that when were put on let off a blue glow. 

He put his finger to his ear and spoke, “Copy,” he turned to Stark, “They’re bringing her down.”

~:~

A series of sharp raps on the glass brought her out of her thoughts and she looked up to see two guards, each male, looking like they were in their late twenties. A sly grin slowly spread over her face, “And to what do I owe the pleasure of this fine visit?”

They exchanged a look before one spoke, “We have orders from Director Fury to bring you down to the lab. I’m coming in to put cuffs on, if you try anything we’ve been given orders to react as necessary.”

“Do you always listen to what Fury tells you to do?” They ignored her.

The other guard hit a few buttons on the control panel and the door slid open. The one who spoke to her quickly slipped in, with the other behind him. The door closed and they walked towards her. When they reached her, the guard took out a pair of special cuffs and forcefully grabbed her wrists, “Didn’t think you liked it rough.”

He didn’t answer while he finished putting the cuffs on, “We’re going to conduct a pat down to make sure you’re clean.”

She scoffed, “What do I have to hide? Unless, this ‘pat down’ is an excuse for something else. Then by all means, go ahead,” she quirked her eyebrow at the guards and watched them shift uncomfortably. Messing with them kept her entertained for a moment before she was dragged to her feet, her ribs burning in pain.

“Stand with your legs apart, and don’t move.”

“You’re no fun.” 

He patted down her upper body before moving down, “Hey! Watch it buddy. Don’t get too handsy.”

“You have nothing to worry about, this is just standard protocol.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. The guard finished up and they each stood on either side of her. The one on her left typed something on the band on his wrist and the door slid open. 

~:~

As they walked through the halls of the ship agents stopped and stared at her. They parted ways and watched with wide eyes and pale faces as she passed. They broke out into whispers, each one discussing a rumor they heard about her, the whispering worsened her headache that was brought on by their thoughts. She caught snippets of the conversations,

“I heard that she killed thirty men in less than two minutes,”

It was actually fifty men in one minute, but who was counting?

“Some say that she has more confirmed kills than Bucky did as the Winter Soldier,”

For some reason that one made her proud. It was true of course, which made her swell with pride for some dark reason. 

“Am I the only one that’s terrified right now?”

She smirked while looking down out the floor. She relished in the feeling of being feared, while a small part of her was saddened. She shoved that part down, can’t afford appearing vulnerable now, could she?

They walked down a few more hallways, each one filled with gossiping agents, before reaching the lab. When they entered she saw that Nick Fury sat at the head of a table, the Avengers on either side. The air felt odd and she immediately knew why, it didn’t exactly take a mind reader to know that tensions were high on their little team of freaks.

~:~

They all watched her enter. She looked worse than last time, but Tony had to admit that there was something alluring about her. Maybe it was the fact that she still looked deadly after being locked up for a week, or maybe it was how she still looked stunning as she carried herself with a strong sense of power that radiated off her. Hmm, beautiful but deadly. He liked it. He knew for a fact he wasn’t the only one that thought that. The way some of them looked at her confirmed his assumption.

The guards shoved her into a seat and she looked up at them, a coy grin on her face, “Again with the roughness,” she tsked, “So naughty.”

The guards fidgeted under her gaze before Fury dismissed them, “I had fun boys!” she hollered at them. They looked back and she winked, before they scurried out.

They took in her appearance. He eyes were lit up with amusement, and the grin hadn’t left her face. She was skinnier, but still toned, and the cut on her arm looked worse. Her upper arm was caked in blood and a bruise was still visible on her cheekbone. She crossed her legs and turned her attention to Fury.

“So, what was ever so pressing that you couldn’t come and see me?”

“This matter proves more important, hence you being out of your cell.”

“I’m a little offended, I’ll be honest, that not one of you came to see me.”

“We were busy with more pressing matters.”

She leaned forward in he chair, “Such as?” she lifted her eyebrow, and tilted her head.

“That’s classified. Now, we should get started,” he stood up from the table and the rest of them copied the movement, everyone except Y/N. She leaned back in her chair and watched them all. 

She laughed and held her hands out, “I need a little help.”

Fury nodded his head at Thor, who rolled his eyes, before yanking Y/N up. Hey, it wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t get up because her ribs hurt too much.  

Y/N hissed in pain, “Thanks.”

Y/N was led over to a table and was to told to sit on it. Thor reached out to help her but she backed up, “I got it,’ Y/N snapped.

He raised his hands and backed up to join the rest of the Avengers on the other side of the room. When she was settled on the table Banner began talking, “We’re just going to run some tests to understand your,” he paused, trying to find the right word, “Abilities.”

She smirked at him, “You mean so you can figure out what makes me tick? How to stop me?”

He remained silent and looked anywhere but at Y/N, “Lying won’t get you anywhere doctor, it’s much easier to tell the truth.”

“Oh, like you’re so honest,” remarked Steve.

She turned to him, “I am. But then again, how would you know? And how do I know if you’re telling the truth? Hmm? Don’t think I didn’t notice the little toys you’re all wearing,” she said, referring to the ear pieces Fury handed out.

Banner looked up at Y/N, “Guess you’ll have to trust us.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t trust anyone.”

“Then you’ll have to start. We’ll need to do a medical exam before starting the tests.”  

He moved towards her and went to grab her arm. She ripped it away before he could touch her, “Trust issues, remember?”

He nodded his head in understandment, “I just need to stitch up your arm,” he pulled out a stitching kit from a drawer and set it down next to Y/N.

She relaxed and held out her arm. Are you seriously beginning to trust them? she thought. No. But the cut on her arm was pretty bad. Think of it as recompense for holding you hostage. Yeah, ‘recompense’.

Dr. Banner pulled a syringe out of the kit and flicked it twice. He held it towards Y/N’s arm, but she stopped him, “What’s that?”

Yeah, she definitely trusted them.

“It’s just a numbing medicine. It’ll help with stitching you up.”

“I don’t need it. Just get on with it.”

“But-”

She cut him off, “Dr. I’m an exHydra operative, I can handle stitches.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” he shrugged and put the syringe back and pulled out a needle and nylon thread.  

He punctured a hole in her skin and looked at her for a reaction. She stared blankly at the floor, not flinching. He continued slowly, every once in awhile looking at her for a reaction. When he finished he wiped the blood off her arm with a wipe, “All done.”

She looked at her arm and raised and dropped her eyebrows, “Do you mind if I check your heart beat?”

“Go ahead,” he pulled out a stethoscope from his lab coat pocket and put it on. 

“Uh, can you move your shirt for me?”

She unzipped her shirt a little and moved it to the side, “Okay, breathe in and out for me,” she did what he asked, “Good,” he moved it to the other side of her chest, “Can you do it again?”

She took a deep breath and blew it out, “Hm, you have an unusually strong heartbeat.”

“Super soldier serum tends to do that.”

He looked at her, an eyebrow raised, “I see. Can you turn around for me? I need to do your back.”

She readjusted herself and slipped her shirt down more, “Breathe in, and out.”

She flinched when the stethoscope touched her back. The slight touch making pain radiate through her ribs,”Woah, woah, are you okay?”

She turned back around, and unzipped her shirt all the way and shrugged it down to her wrists, the cuffs prevented her from taking it off fully. The action made them all blush. Steve looked up at the ceiling and Tony shoved Peter behind Thor’s back, “It’s just a bra. You all musn’t overreact so much.”

Banner finally looked at her and his eyes widened, “Jesus, what happened?”

They finally looked at her and their eyes also widened. A large bruise covered one half of her stomach. Dark blues and purples splotched her skin, “A certain someone, tackled me to the ground, and trapped me,” her eyes narrowed at Bucky.

“I’ll have to get Dr. Cho to give you an x-ray, but I think you cracked your ribs.”

“Not the first time,” she hopped off the table walked over to the CT scanner.

A moment later an young asian women, who she assumed was Dr. Cho, entered the lab. She too, had an earpiece on.

“Can you do me a favor and remove your bra, it’ll interfere with the results, you can put this on to cover yourself. You can change over here,” she handed Y/N a hospital gown, and led her over to a curtain. 

“Um, I can’t really, you know, take it off,” she nodded at her handcuffs.

“Right. Stark take the cuffs off. They’ll interfere with the scanner anyways.”

“What? No way. Can’t you just look at her and tell if her ribs are cracked?”

Dr. Cho gave Stark a dumbfounded look, “I thought you were supposed to be a genius.”

“I am, and because of that we shouldn’t take those cuffs off. Not unless we want something bad to happen.”

Y/N scoffed, “Please, why would I try to escape? My ribs hurt like shit, and if you can’t tell I’m a little put out of it right now to even try,” she motioned to her appearance.

She had a point, she was skinny, and her ribs didn’t help her condition, “Fine, but once it’s done they’re back on.”

“Sure thing boss,” Y/N said.

He moved towards her and she held her arms out. He clicked at few buttons and they clicked open. She dropped her shirt on the floor and massaged her wrists, “Much better.”

She walked behind the curtain and unclasped her bra and slipped the gown on. When she was finished she walked back out.  

“Okay, can you lay down for me. Make sure to lay as still as possible.”

“Got it doc,” Y/N laid down on the platform and rested her arms next to her sides. 

Dr. Cho walked over to a control panel and clicked a few buttons. The platform slid into the scanner and Y/N lay completely still. She lay there for a few minutes before she slid back out. 

“I’ll have the results back to you in a few minutes. You can change back now,” Dr. Cho left the room. 

Y/N carefully got up from the platform, and groaned in pain. Banner moved to help her, but she waved him off, “I’m fine.”

~:~

So this chapter was a little rushed. It isn’t the best, but I’m going to try and edit it when I have time. I just needed something to post. It took a long time to write, mostly because I’m excited for what you’ll learn in the chapter. Feedback and constructive criticism is appreciated. 

[h4rr3h]

Harry and Evan were as platonic as platonic could be. Living together does that. You see their unlivable quirks; like how they always leave the toilet seat up, or how they never rinse their dishes, or how they never fully close the chip bag so they end up stale. And after six years of living together, Harry and Evan knew each other’s quirks well. The pair were long gone from their college days and fully immersed in the confusing reality of adulthood. Navigating your twenties is hard, but with your best friend by your side, it makes the whole disarray just that much easier. But, Harry has a secret, one that he’s been hiding from his best friend since the day they met, and she’s about to find out. Especially now that Niall spilled about the “Ohio Incident”. A lesson on facing your fears, being too old for college parties, cronuts (are those even still a thing?) and finding things out just a bit too late.

ohio is for lovers, chapter one evan bosco and the greatest one night stand that never happened

Since they day they met, Harry Styles knew Evan Bosco would take him on the ride of his life.

Sunday, March 25, 2018

185 Bleecker Street, Apartment 11A, New York, NY

Since they day they met, Harry Styles knew Evan Bosco would take him on the ride of his life.

 “Get up! Get up!” She hollers, jumping on the edge of his bed.

 It’s eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. Harry is hoping for another hour of sleep, Evan is hoping for Harry’s homemade pancakes.

 “I want breakfast!” She grumbles, like a child.

 Harry knows he won’t say no. God, he could never say no to this girl, “make them yourself.” He groans, pushing his face into his pillow.

 Evan jumps closer, and Harry grabs her ankle and wiggles her around a bit. She stumbles but puts her palm against the ceiling to stable her balance. She’s wearing one of his jumpers with a pair of pajama shorts underneath. He pretends that he can’t see the eggplant shaped birthmark on her inner thigh. That’s not his territory.

 “Let gooooo - “

 Harry tugs on her leg, pulling her onto him. Evan laughs in protest but wraps her arms around him, hugging him close, throwing a leg over his lap, “Pancakes?” She jets her bottom lip out and he gives in.

 “Pancakes.”

Thursday, August 23, 2012 Washington Square Diner

150 West 4th Street, New York, NY

Harry Styles is not a fan of decaf coffee. But it’s three in the morning and he was about to round his thirtieth hour of no sleep and he reckoned if he had another drip of caffeine he would surely die of a heart attack at the age of eighteen. The chemical always heightened his senses. He was all too aware of the bored waitress sweeping behind the counter of empty display cases that in just a few hours time will hold bagels and pastries galore. Her rhythm is off key when she moves to the left, it’s a sweep, sweeeeep instead of a short quick sweep sweep.

 There are four other people in Washington Square Diner with him; an old man sitting on the furthest inside seat of counter, a punk looking couple, and a simple girl. The old geezer is leaned up so gingerly against the brick facade wall that Harry worries that the slightest gust of wind from an incoming customer might knock him over. He’s clearly asleep, or drunk, or dead. The couple are picking at the paper placemats laid in front of them despite a table full of hot, greasy food. And finally the girl, that damn girl.

 Sweep, Sweeeeep.

 Evan Bosco sits at the other end Washington Square Diner, earbuds in, but nothing playing. People leave you alone when they think you’re listening to music. She picks at her stack of pancakes, so soaked with syrup that they’re sticky and too sickly sweet for the common human. But that was how she liked them. Evan pretends not to notice the red eyed boy staring wide eyed at the scene around him.

 He must be a tourist, she thinks.

 She listens to the peaceful pattern of sweeps from the lonely waitress behind the counter. Another mouthful of pancakes washed down by her cup of black coffee and she’s counted twice now since the boy with bloodshot eyes has caught her sightline again. Old Man Figgins snorts in his sleep and Evan attempts to hide her bemusement. Mitch and Hannah in the front and center booth are high on Molly or X or whatever fad drug they were doing this week. Evan catches Harry’s eye again. Only she doesn’t know him as Harry, at least not yet. For now, he was the zombie boy who caught her gaze in between staring into his untouched mug of coffee and looking around him like he was hiding from something.

 Harry’s shoulders ache. He supposes it’s his bad posture, or at least that what his mother would tell him. He shifts his weight in the booth, the squeak of the fake leather seat whining as he makes a feeble attempt to stretch his sore muscles.

 Sweep, Sweeeeep.

 The air smells sweet like maple syrup and powdered sugar. The scent almost makes him nauseous. He glares down at the room temperature cup of decaf coffee and lets out a little sob to himself. Harry winces before the taste even hits his lips.

 Fucking decaf, he complains to himself.

 He can’t tell if the girl with honey hair sitting on the other side of the Diner is looking at him on purpose or not. Her hair is pulled back in a low bun, strands still falling in her face. She hides almond eyes behind a pair of oversized wire rimmed glasses that look like they belong to the elderly man asleep (or dead) at the counter instead of a young woman. There’s a crinkle in her forehead when he catches her looking again.

 It’s then that he notices the sweeping has stopped.

 Evan rises from her seat, but not without shoving another bite of pancake into her mouth. She licks her sticky lips and crosses the Diner in thirteen strides to the back corner booth where the boy is sitting. He looks even worse for wear up close. His greenish (although they look dull under the pale Diner lighting) eyes are bloodshot to hell and, along with red rimmed eyes, he has bags so dark Evan wondered for a moment if he’d been recently socked in the face. She notices he’d put far too much creamer in his coffee, it sits so beige and stagnant in the white mug with roadmap-like hairpin cracks along the edge of its mouth.

 Something like this wasn’t rash for Evan Bosco. She was used to flighty strangers in the night, whether she was at the park or the Diner, or the Subway station. New York really was the city that never slept, in the sense that the people who inhabited it were walking talking zombies who drank expensive coffee and ate fad pastries instead of brains, just shuffling and grunting onto their next stop. It was these strange hours of the night a few times a month that Evan stepped away from the hustle and bustle of simply existing in such an exhausting city and took some time to pause.

 She met some interesting people along the way, like Hannah and Mitch who would sometimes pay for her pancakes if they were feeling up to it and offered her drugs she’d never take. Or Old Man Figgins, who smelled faintly of cat pee thanks to the dozen or so cats he had collected in his studio apartment around the corner on MacDougal Street.

 Why was she coming towards him? Harry thinks, She’s probably coming to tell me to fuck off.

 But she doesn’t, and Evan slides gracefully into his booth and it takes him a moment to resonate that the girl he’d been staring at for the better part of forty-five minutes is staring back him from across the table.

 And she smells like maple syrup.

 Neither of them speak when she sits, Harry looks into his mug like he’s waiting for it to tell him its greatest secrets.

 “I’ve never seen someone look so somberly at a mug of coffee.” Evan states.

 Harry blinks once, “it’s decaf.”

 That explains it, she thinks. Also, nice accent.

 “Why’re you drinking that?” She questions.

 He shrugs, What an odd question.

 Odd question for an odd girl.

 He rips open a sugar packet and dumps it in, hoping it will mask the flavor (it won’t), “too much caffeine. Been up too long. Need to sleep sometime I suppose.”

 Evan nods her head, “so why do you keep staring at me? Do I have something in my teeth?”

 She curls her lips up and bares a white smile to Harry. He tries his best not to smile too much back at her. He pulls his coffee mug to his mouth to try and hide it.

 “Just wonderin’ what you were doing here,” he mutters, lips pressed to the edge of the porcelain mug.

 Evan rips tiny tears into the edges of the paper placemat, “could ask you the same thing.”

 “This is the city that never sleeps, am I right?”

 She rolls her eyes, what a cliche tourist thing to say.

 “I guess,” she huffs, “this is really the only place around here that’s open twenty-four hours. I come here when I need to think.”

 Harry rolls his eyes, what a cliche teenage girl thing to say.

 “And what do you think about?” He quizzes.

 By now Evan has made it three quarters of the way around her placemat and she’s mentally scanning the rest of the table for things to occupy her fingertips; the napkins, sugar packets, a dollar store miniature coloring book with three waxy crayons in red, yellow and blue.

 She shrugs, how terribly invasive, she thinks to herself. Although it’s exciting. She’s spent most of her time in and out of this city. Between dad’s work and travels she’s seen the inside of airport terminals so often she thought she ought to have a punch card for the JFK airport. There’s something fuzzy growing in her stomach and it makes her want to throw up, but in the most exhilarating way possible. She can be anyone tonight. Anyone to this person. She’s not her father’s daughter who shares the same bright eyes and sense of adventure and terrible nail biting habit. And she’s definitely not the girl that Jacob Huckabee just dumped twelve hours ago in a Starbucks on Bleecker Street.

 “I think about the color blue, and the way that the sky looks right before the sun rises,” Evan plucks out a crayon from the little cardboard box and flips her edge torn paper placemat to the blank white side, “I think about this city and how, despite us being constantly surrounded by other people that we never actually touch them,” she draws a cluster of stick figures inside of a box below a deep blue crayon sky, “sure, we may bump into them on the sidewalk or the subway but we don’t interact with more than a mumble of a sorry or barely even that. All these damn people and then they bump into other people and it just keeps going on and on-,” Evan drags the circle around the box a few times, “for seemingly forever. One-point-six million people just bumping into each other, day in and day out.”

 Harry raises an eyebrow. He pulls the red crayon from the box and turns the paper around to him, scribbling hair and smiley faces  on two of the stick figures standing side by side before presenting it back to her, “and then there’s us.”

 “You never answered my question,” Evan replies, “about what you’re doing here. I’ve never seen you here before tonight.”

 Harry doesn’t like questions, mostly because he never really has an answer. He was at the Washington Square Diner and three thirty in the morning because he was wired on caffeine, jet lagged, stressing about his upcoming first year at university, and well, hungry.

 “You’ve met all one point six million people in this city?” He raises an eyebrow. Evan folds her arms and he caves. “And I was hungry.”

 There’s a wrinkle of questioning between Evan’s eyes that causes her glasses to slip ever so slightly, “you don’t have any food.”

 Harry shrugs.

 Evan reaches for the last crayon, the yellow one, and draws a door that leads out of the stick figure clustered box and past the circle of repetition and to the blank part of the placemat.

 “Want to get out of here?” She asks.

 Harry isn’t sure what this girl is asking. Is she trying to sleep with me? He thinks. Not that it would be the worst way this night (morning?) could end.

 “Sure.”

 Evan smiles and damn near pulls him straight from the booth. Harry grabs the paper placemat with the torn edges and their drawing and folds it neatly, “in case we get lost we’ll always know where to find each other,” he says before tucking it into his back pocket.

 Old man Figgins wakes up when the front door of Washington Square Diner slams shut. It’s a fairly warm night. There’s no wind and the air is stagnant with summer’s leftovers. A slight lick of humidity fills the air; it’s stale, old, recycled. Just like this damn city. It’s a smell that Harry can’t place and one that Evan just calls “that city smell”. It’s mechanical, but still manages to smell like greasy chinese food after its sat out for too long, mixed with the slight wet dog smell of this evening’s rainstorm.

 Harry and Evan run down the sidewalk of West 4th Street towards Washington Square Park. Evan’s not much of a runner, especially with a stomach full of sticky pancakes and black coffee.

 Harry isn’t sure why they’re running. Is it a race? No, she’s not running fast enough for that. Is she running away from him? No, she’s smiling every time he looks at her to check her pace. She grabs his hand and drags him further, her hand is soft in his.

 Evan isn’t quite sure why she’s running. Overtired? Maybe, she should’ve been in bed hours ago. Craziness? Probably, she’s felt every emotion crammed into a half day and still lived to tell about it.

 They enter the park at the corner of Macdougal and Washington Square South.

 With heavy breaths, they fall to the ground in a fit of laughter, two strangers in the middle of the night. If this were a romantic comedy, Harry probably would’ve kissed her. But all he could notice in this moment was the way that the sidewalk lamp posts glowed in the reflection of her glasses and that her blue eyes looked so bright he thought he could’ve fallen in love right there on the spot.

 Harry didn’t really believe in love at first sight or even really love at all for that matter. It was a thing for saps and Hallmark cards. But, by God, he swore he saw the rest of his life with this girl flash in front of his eyes when she shut hers and placed her hand over his.

 “So what’s the plan?” He asks, when his breath finally catches up to him.

 Evan lets out a breathy laugh, “that’s one thing you’ll learn about me, I never have a plan.”

 Sunday, March 25, 2018

185 Bleecker Street, Apartment 11A, New York, NY

 It’s like a dance routine, the way that Harry and Evan work around their tiny apartment kitchen. They’ve mastered the art of passing by the other to get a utensil from the opposite end of the counter. Harry knows to dip slightly to the left when Evan reaches above his head for the mixing bowls; all her weight rested on her right foot, her left one extended backwards behind her. It’s choreographed teamwork.

 “Shit, we’re out of chocolate chips,” Evan groans as she digs through the cupboard.

 Harry’s got his Kiss the Cook apron on, mixing bowl full of raw pancake batter cradled in one arm and whisk in the other, “when did we run out?”

 “I made those cookies for Poll’s party a couple weeks ago.”

 “You didn’t write it in on the shopping list,” Harry tuts.

 Evan glares over the tops of her glasses, “shut up,” she say, kicking him swiftly on the ass.

 He does that cocky little smirk that causes the crease of his dimples to indent even more. Evan swears she’s detested  it since the day she met him, but that’s only because it causes one single butterfly in her lower stomach to flutter for just a fraction of a moment that happens so quickly, the first few times it happened she could’ve sworn she was imagining things.

 “So what’s on the agenda today?” Harry asks.

 Evan shrugs, shaking away the butterfly, “Huck had something he wants to do later. He was scarce on the details.”

 “Isn’t he always?” Harry quips.

 Evan hates when her best friend takes jabs at her boyfriend. Sure, Harry and Huck get along as well as they probably ever could, but there’s those backhanded compliments and little quips between comments that they fire at one another that makes her think one of them is bound to get sucker punched one of these days.

 It’s the second time in the course of sixty seconds that Evan tells Harry to shut up, but this time it’s with a little more fervor and he takes the hint. At least for now.

 “Maybe it’s a surprise,” Harry wiggles his fingers dramatically.

 “Eh,” Evan starts, “he’s not really one for surprises,” she acts nonchalant but her head swirls with ideas.

 They spin together to swap sides of the kitchen, pressed chest to chest for the briefest moment. Evan chuckles to herself at the sight of Harry’s tattoo-laden bare chest under his apron. A sizzling sound sparks in the air when Harry pours the batter into the hot pan, tiny bubbles forming up. Two steps to the left and Evan is pulling out more milk for their coffee that’s been steeping in the French press. They cheers with their matching monogrammed mugs that Harry still insists drinking out of even though his has a chip on the lip.

 “I can’t wait for the day you cut your mouth open on that mug so I can dance around the apartment screaming ‘told ya so!’”

 Harry winks and takes a sip from the side with the chip and the mug rubs against slightly rough spot on the inside of his upper lip where it’s cut him over and over in the past but this time there’s no metallic taste of blood mixed with his coffee.

 Outside the front door of apartment 11A, Jake Huckabee can smell the sweet scent of pancakes outside of his girlfriend’s apartment. While he much preferred waffles, after pulling an all nighter studying for Monday’s exam, pancakes would just have to do right now. He knocks four times in rapid succession and can hear the gentle pat pat of Evan’s feet against the hardwood floors.

 “Baby, you look so tired,” Evan groans to her boyfriend, holding her hands on either side of his face.

 She slides them down to his shoulders, giving them a single squeeze before wrapping her arms around his neck. Jake presses his forehead into her collarbone and peppers kisses along her neck. Evan giggles and pulls him into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind him.

 Harry tries not to stare at their spectacle and finishes up the first round of pancakes, “have a fresh batch ready to go!” Harry says a little too loudly, his voice cracking a bit at the end.

 Evan laces her fingers with Huck and pulls him to the kitchen. The dance is disturbed now by Huck standing like an awkward fucking giant in the middle of the kitchen. Evan bumps into him with a hot pan of cooked bacon and he winces and rubs the rapidly forming burn on his arm, Harry steps on his big toe while backing up to get the syrup from the cupboard.

 “Hey Huck, can you put this stuff on the table?” Harry asks, slightly annoyed, but mostly just to get him out of the fucking way.

 “Sure, man,” he replies, giving Evan a kiss on the forehead before putting the plate of fresh pancakes on the tiny dining table in what was supposed to be the other half of the living room.

 Living in a New York City apartment, especially when you’re barely able to cover rent and food, is like playing a real life game of tetris. The buildings are full of right angles and corners and straight lines, and the rooms take on multiple uses. The living room becomes a dining room on Sunday morning but a dance hall on Saturday nights. The weird corner in the kitchen that’s too small for a table but too big for a bar cart becomes a place for Harry and Evan’s ‘his and hers’ cats to perch and catch some morning rays. The bedrooms double as therapist offices and gymnasiums. And so on, and so forth.

 The threesome settles at the dining table and it’s a symphony of scraping forks and Huck’s cow chewing because of a deviated septum from a broken nose as a kid. They’ve had many a morning like this. Harry would be stupid to act like this didn’t happen every goddamn Sunday morning and now especially since Evan and Huck saw less of each other because of his spastic medical school schedule, time was precious.

 “So how goes Ye Olde Med School?” Harry asks, letting his fork scrape against his teeth for a second or two too long.

 Huck rubs his tired eyes. The classes are exhausting and seemingly never ending, the course load is enough to make anyone’s goddamn head explode, he sleeps an average of four hours a night, and he spends so much time in the library he can’t remember what day of the week it is most of the time.

 “It’s good,” he says simply.

 Thursday, August 23, 2012

Washington Square Park, New York, NY

 “So what are you thinking about now?” He asks.

 “Are you a therapist?” Evan questions in a dry tone.

 She opens her eyes and rolls her head over to face him, she can feel the soft tickle of the grass on her cheek. It’s quiet, and that’s saying something for the city. There’s the ever present sirens in the distance and honks and the other white noise static she’s become accustomed to. After all the places in the world that her father had taken her on his work trips, she detested the fact that he had to settle on New York City when it came time to take the promotion and settle down. Now he was the Editor-in-Chief of Travel Lately; one of those boujee travel magazines that showcased resorts and accommodations only the one-percent could afford. It was a modest upbringing when her father was just a measly travel writer carting his daughter around the world. But he was amazing at what he did and made good connections, and well, things changed. Now he spent 9-5 in an office building surrounded by glass walls and computer monitors the size of big screen televisions.

 “I’m interested in what you have to say,” Harry says, plainly. He’s turned his head over too and Evan can feel his breath feather across her face. He smells of coffee and mint.

 Is he trying to sleep with me? She thinks. Men are all the same.

 Evan rolls onto her side, propping her face up on her palm and surveys Harry. He’s laying on his back, hands folded on his stomach. His breathing is light and steady in perfect rhythm. His heart is racing, and she can hear. Even his heart beat is in sync with his breathing and she wondered how in the Hell anyone could be so in tune. Harry’s eyes are more green than she noticed in the diner; they looked more hazel under the fluorescents and she spots a pair of swallow tattoos just below his collar bone poking out from above his shirt. She reaches out to trace one.

 “I already told you what I think about, and what I was doing in the Diner. How about you answer some questions, buddy?” She finishes dragging her finger across his skin, his body emitting shivers under her touch.

 Harry takes a deep breath to try and recover himself, he wonders if she can hear how fast his heart is racing, “do you want the long or short version?”

 “Long,” she smiles, “we’ve got another couple hours until sunrise.”

 Evan listens intently while he speaks, “well, I got here this afternoon, from England, if you couldn’t tell.”

 She could.

 “I’m starting University on Tuesday and I’m scared shitless. I already hate this city. It’s so loud and lonely despite the fact you are never actually alone anywhere...ever,” he continues, “you have to wait twenty minutes for a seven dollar cup of coffee that takes less time to drink than it took for you to get it. It’s so goddamn loud. I don’t think I’ve heard a second of silence since I’ve gotten here. And there’s tourists, like, everywhere. It’s exhausting.”

 “Shit, I’d hate to see what you’ll be like after a month,” Evan quips.

 “Dead, hopefully.”

 There’s a playful smirk on his face and it makes Evan feel things she shouldn’t feel about a complete stranger, “Where are you going to school?”

 “NYU-”

 “Wait are you shitting me?” Evan sits up, clutching her chest.

 Harry is confused, “no?”

 “I’m going there too! That’s so cool! Small world, huh?” She jabs his ribs, “so what made you decide to cross the world to come to school?”

 He lets out a stream of breath, it comes out as a low whistle, “...my best friend talked me into it. Wanted something different, I suppose. If I stayed home I’d probably be working in my parent’s little pub. Sold me into the whole big city thing and here I am.”

 “So where’s he?” Evan asks.

 Harry shrugs, “probably at home.”

 “What’s his name?”

 “You ask a lot of questions,” Harry tuts.

 Evan rolls her eyes, “so says the guy who wants to know what I’m thinking because he’s sooo interested in what I have to say,” she proclaims with faux drama.

 “Fair enough,” Harry starts, “his name is Louis. We met really young. He’s a couple years older, already in school. His family lived next door to my parents growing up. Parents split and his dad stayed in England so he’d spend summers with him and the rest of the year here with his Mum. We just stayed in touch over the years.”

 “So you just dropped everything to move to the states and be with your best friend?”

 Harry thinks about it. That wasn’t really the full reason why. It was just his easiest way out of a drone life of working the pub and then it would eventually be passed on to him like it was his to his Mum and surely onto his children after he grew too old to care for it. It wouldn’t have been a bad life. It’d be comfortable, he’d marry the girl next door and she’d work in a shop up the block from the pub and they’d have a comfortable and familiar existence together and maybe pop out a few kids and go on a couple vacations. But Harry had known from a very young age that that was not what he wanted for himself. So the easiest way out was taking Lou’s advice and getting the fuck out of dodge.

 “I guess, in a way. It’s complicated back home but entirely not at the same time. I needed to get away from the constant sameness of the day to day. I needed something more for myself than what life back home could offer me and he offered to help me out and here I am.”

 Evan clutches her chest again and finds the whole thing so goddamn endearing she may burst. She wants to ask him about home and the best friend that she can thank for bringing him here and about a thousand other things but she doesn’t.

 “That’s so bromantic!”

 Harry rolls his eyes, “does that adequately answer your question?”

 She adjusts herself so that her head is resting on his chest. His heart is racing so fast Evan can feel it thump gently against her and Harry flushes and prays she doesn’t notice.

 She does.

 “For now.”

 She lets her fingers tiptoe on the grass around her. A silence has fallen between them (if you’re not counting Harry’s furiously beating heart) and Evan musters up the courage to ask what she’s about to, “so where are you staying tonight?”

 Harry fumbles with his answer, “uh just some like cruddy hotel until uh I move into the dorms. Louis’ mum’s apartment is cramped enough as it is without me there. W-why do you ask?”

 “Can I see it?”

 He chokes on air. Holy shit she really is trying to sleep with me. He blinks once, “uhm sure, I guess.”

 Sunday, March 25, 2018

185 Bleecker Street, Apartment 11A, New York, NY

 “Does this mean you’ve finally grown a pair of balls?” Niall asks, sipping his beer,  feet resting on the edge of the coffee table.

 Harry pushes his legs off his goddamn coffee table and leans back in his seat, taking a last sip of his drink before slamming the bottle on the table, “no, I’m just going to start being honest. I can’t stand seeing her with that human Valium.”

 “They’ve been together longer than you’ve known her, mate. I think you need to just keep your mouth shut and accept the fact that it’s never going to happen,” Louis chimes in, always the voice of reason.

 “If you tell her does that mean you’re going to stop bringing up your overdone sad sap trope every time she’s not around and you’ve had more than two drinks?” Niall pips casually.

 Louis tries his best not to chuckle, “yeah man, it’s kind of getting old. Either move on or tell her. And personally, I vote don’t tell her. Not after this long, and you live together…it’s just kind of sad and entirely too creepy.”

 “Thanks,” Harry seethes, finishing his beer and getting up for another.

 “Where is she anyways?” Niall asks.

 “Out with the Valium,” Harry sneers. He’s four beers in and feeling brave.

 “Bitter, table of one.” Niall mumbles into his beer.

 Louis rolls his eyes and mentally adds another tick to his count of how many times he has to smooth over something Niall says for Harry’s benefit. Just a normal side effect of having one friend with no filter and another who takes everything much too personally.

 “How’s Jordan?” Louis asks, changing the subject.

 Oh, right, my girlfriend. Harry thinks. Well, at least this week.

 “She’s good. We’re supposed to be going on a weekend trip up north to see her parents in a couple weeks. That should be interesting.”

 “You’ve met her parents like four dozen times, what’s so different this time?” Louis inquires.

 Mr. and Mrs. Charles Meyers of Troy, New York wanted nothing more than for their first born daughter to marry the man of her dreams. Harry was not this man. They were old fashioned, made Harry and Jordan sleep in separate bedrooms whenever they spent a night at their McMansion upstate. But a little after midnight Jordan would sneak into the guest room and snuggle up to Harry for a cuddle or a fuck or whatever they were feeling at that particular time. There’s just something about that boy, they always thought. He was smart, well put together, made good conversation, was respectful to their daughter, but Mr. and Mrs. Meyers knew that Harry Styles was not the man their daughter would marry.

 “It’s their like thirtieth wedding anniversary or some bullshit. So everyone is making a big deal about it and Jordan is asking too many questions about ‘the next step’.”

 “...you mean like normal couples do?” Louis fails to see the clear annoyance in Harry’s tone.

 He groans and puts his face in his hands, “she’s just - I don’t know how to describe it. She’s all over me all the time and then I’ll say something she doesn’t agree with and she’ll dump me for two weeks and then just show up at my door like she hasn’t been cursing my existence for the last fourteen days.”

 Niall pushes his glasses up his nose, “poor Harry, can’t get the girl he wants, can’t get rid of the one he doesn’t. Life is so cruel.”

 “Remind me again why we keep you around?” Harry snickers.

 Niall grins, “for the amazing commentary and real life wisdom.”

 “Yeah,” Harry snorts, “that’s it.”

 Thursday, August 23, 2012

St. Marks Hotel

2 St Marks Pl, New York, NY

 Harry wipes his sweaty palms against his jeans and paces the length of the tiny hotel room four times by the time Evan is done in the bathroom. He’d never had a one night stand before, unless you counted the time he lost his virginity to his first girlfriend who then promptly dumped him the next day. Harry liked to think there was no correlation, but he was just a lousy kisser and an even worse lay at age sixteen.

 He sits at the edge of the bed and it let out a squeaking groan in protest. Whoever was staying next door was surely in for a (loud) treat. He ponders briefly if he should play some music to help set the mood or dim the lights or shut them off completely. The blanket he’s sitting on is scratchy and he swears he can feel it through the fabric of his jeans. Finally, he hears the click of the bathroom door opening and approximately five thoughts process through his head at once;

 One, her hair is down, swung over one shoulder. It’s precise without looking like she did it on purpose (she did). Harry notices a small globe tattoo at the very top of her shoulder.

 Two, she’s taller than he thought, standing in front of him as he’s seated on the edge of the bed frozen with fear. He’s eye level with her bust and now he can hear her heart too.

 Three, her skin is a lot warmer than Harry expected. His hand cups her hip, his thumb toying with the bottom hem of her loose fitting tee shirt.

 Four, she smells like a mixture of seasalt and French vanilla coffee.

 Five, he can’t fucking go through with this.

 “I - I’m sorry, I can’t.”

 Harry stands and backs himself into a corner, biting at his thumbnail, shoulders hunched over. Evan takes a step towards him and he flinches backwards.

 “Have I done something wrong?” She asks. She’s on the verge of tears, mostly from the embarrassment of flinging herself at a total stranger she’d picked up at a fucking Diner, and partially because she misses her boyfriend, well, ex now.

 “No, no. You’re fine. I just can’t sleep with you. You’re great, honestly. I just...can’t do it.”

 “Oh my God,” Evan gasps, “are you gay? I’m so sorry, I just assumed - “

 “No! No I’m not gay,” Harry corrects, “not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m just, not. I know I’ll regret all of this in the morning and quite possibly the rest of my life -”

 Evan laughs, loud and breathy. It’s more of a relief than anything. She really didn’t want to sleep with Harry either. Although he was quite attractive and interesting and all that but in a way she thought that sleeping with him would cheapen the night. Having sex with him would’ve given the whole spontaneity of everything less meaning and it took him forcing himself into a corner like a terrified puppy for her to realize that.

 “Come here,” she says, sitting down and patting the space of mattress next to her.

 Harry hesitates, his heart still racing as if she were underneath him.

 “I just got dumped,” Evan starts, and he isn’t quite sure why she’s telling him this, “he said that while we were great together, he had to focus on school and his career and I just didn’t fit into that. So I cried, and went to the Diner, ate my weight in pancakes and now I’m here, with you.”

 “I think he’s an idiot,” Harry consoles, holding her hand in his.

 Evan swallows the lump in her throat, “thanks.”

 “No problem.”

 Silence again, and it’s truly quiet for the first time since Harry had arrived in the City. He sighs and savors what he’s sure are going to be far and few in between moments. Evan yawns and rubs her eyes, it’s been a while since she’s been this tired. She’s been tired since she got to the Diner and the night’s ups and downs just added to her exhaustion.

 “You can sleep here if you want,” Harry offers, “or I can call you a cab if you’re not comfortable with that.”

 Evan smiles, “I think I’ll stay here.”

 Sunday, March 25, 2018

185 Bleecker Street, Apartment 11A, New York, NY

 “Where the fuck is Evan?!” Polly hollers from the hallway between apartments 11A and 11B.

 It’s half past seven and the boy’s show at the bar up the street starts in a half hour. Evan never misses show nights on Sundays and Polly is impatient.

 “Relax, maybe she got stuck in traffic,” Louis rubs her lower back, trying to calm down his girlfriend.

 Polly stomps and puts her hands on her hips, “well then she should’ve called! This is so disrespectful. She knows how important - “

 Louis covers her mouth with his palm, “Polls, it’s fine. I’m going to round up Harry and Niall and we’re going to go across the street to get set up. Meet us there in ten?”

 She nods, her stature loosening a bit when he removes his hand, “sorry, I’m PMS-ing,” she defends, folding her arms across her chest.

 “Yeah, I know,” Lou teases before giving her a kiss on the forehead, “I’ll order us a round and you can get nice and blitzed tonight.”

 She chuckles and smacks him on the bum, “go! You’ll be late!”

 Louis goes back into 11A and Polly can hear the faint sounds of him hollering at the other two to hurry up. Pounding footsteps make their way up the hallway and Polly is half pissed, half relieved to finally see her cousin.

 “Finally! I didn’t think you were going to make it,” Polly snapped.

 Evan didn’t respond and just pulled her into the apartment.

 “Everyone to the living room!” She yells excitedly and Polly rolls her eyes and wonders what the hell she’s doing.

 The three boys come rushing into the living room. Huck isn’t far behind and lets himself into the apartment. Evan steps away from her cousin and clutches onto her boyfriend, excitedly biting her lip.

 “What?!” The four friends chime in unison.

 “We’re engaged!” And she holds up her left hand and shiny diamond ring to prove it.

 Niall stifles a laugh into a cough and Harry plans on getting very, very drunk.

 Sunday, August 26, 2012

Goddard Hall

79 Washington Square East, New York, NY

 It had been three days since Evan parted ways with Harry. They hadn’t so much as shared their names with each other, nor phone numbers nor anything else. They fell asleep halfway into an episode of Friends and Evan left when the dawn of morning came. When Harry finally woke up in the early afternoon, he thought maybe she’d been a dream; a toxic combination of too much coffee, not enough sleep and a brand new city. But when he heard a crinkle from his back pocket and pulled out the tattered paper placemat with her drawing, he knew she had, in fact, been for real.

 He couldn’t wait to tell Louis.

 Move in day at Goddard Hall was going smoothly for Evan and her father, Evan Bosco Sr. After believing for months that their daughter was a son due to faulty ultrasound equipment in Cambodia, Mr. and Mrs. Bosco couldn’t decide on a name for their daughter, so they just settled on naming her what they had intended on naming their son.

 “I think that’s the last of it,” Evan Sr. says, dropping the last tote of belongs on the floor of his daughter’s new dorm room, “want me to help you unpack?”

 “Nah,” Evan replies, “I’ll probably just do the essentials tonight, get a pizza and watch some Netflix.”

 Evan Sr. had a swollen heart, watching his only daughter, his only child leave home for college. Even if she really wasn’t all that far from home. The apartment would be quieter, he’d miss their morning cups of coffee while they split the paper; crosswords and the business section for him, current affairs and comics for her. He’d miss (although he’d never admit it) when he’d have to remind her to pick up her dishes or clean up her room. He’d miss having his partner in crime with him.

 “Alright, if you need anything, just call me and I’ll be here.”

 “Yes dad,” Evan groans.

 “I’m not far. Even if you need to get away from your new roommate -”

 “I’m sure the twelve minute subway ride to get home will really be a daunting when I want to shower in private.”

 He laughs, “where is this roommate anyways?”

 “No clue,” Evan shrugs, “maybe I’ll get lucky and end up with a room to myself. Then you’ll really never see me.”

 “Hey,” Evan Sr. turns the rolling chair from the desk and sits in it, “how about once a week, no matter what, we do something? Whether it’s dinner, lunch, shopping, a movie, doesn’t matter. Deal?”

 “Dad,” she starts, she can see the corners of her father’s eyes twinkling like they do right before he cries, “I’m not moving to a different country, just a different neighborhood. You’ll be too busy living up the bachelor lifestyle in your newly empty apartment that you won’t have time to miss me.”

 Evan Sr. stands and pulls his daughter into a hug. He squeezes her tight and plants a kiss on the top of her head before letting her go and heading for the door, “okay, I’ll let you get to it.”

 “Love you, Dad.” She says.

 Her father waves and yells, “Love you too, my little snickerdoodle!” Down the crowded hallway back at her.

 Evan laughs and closes the door, turning to her empty dorm room. She sighs once and lays down on the uncomfortable twin bed and instantly regrets fighting her father to let her live on campus.

 Somewhere in the middle of the third season of Arrested Development, Evan falls asleep, curled into a ball on her unmade bed. It’s dark in the room when she wakes up a couple hours later with still no sign of her roommate. Maybe I did get lucky and end up alone. She thinks. She plugs in her microwave and whips up some cup noodles and settles back into bed. Another hour passes before there’s a the sound of keys jingling outside the dorm door. After a couple of hushed swears the door pops open and it takes a few seconds for Evan’s eyes to adjust from the brightness of her laptop screen to the darkness of the room.

 When the light flicks on she can’t seem to find the words she wants to say so instead, stares with her mouth agape at the sight of Diner boy standing in front of her. He looks at the piece of paper in his hand, “Evan?”

 “Yeah?”

 Evan scrambles to the move in slip on her bedside table with the name of her roommate listed on it, “I assumed Harry was short for Harriet.”

 Harry bursts out laughing, falling onto his bed across from Evan’s.

 Since they day they met, Harry Styles knew Evan Bosco would take him on the ride of his life.

FIRST AND FOREMOST THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE ON THE PROLOGUE. Holy crap. And all the lovely messages too! I’m so excited to go on this journey with you guys and share all of the shenanigans that this gang is going to get into. 

Until next time!

[imhereforbvcky]

Cuddles Can Hurt - Part 3 (End)

Masterlist  -  Part 1  - Part 2

Summary: You and Bucky have always had a strictly professional relationship, until it becomes a little too easy to get too comfortable when you can’t sleep.

Prompt(s): I would love to read number 4 or 19 from the list! (with Bucky)

4.      “I couldn’t sleep, and I know you’re practically nocturnal, so I thought you’d answer.”

19.   “How exactly did you manage to give yourself a black eye?”

Warnings: a little swearing

Word Count: 2665

Author’s Note: 3 part mini series, posting every day the next 3 days. No series tags for this one. :)  Mostly floof, and Bucky being a dumb, because I love that loveable idiot.

You’d gotten home late from a mission with Clint. Very late. It was nothing special, nothing invasive. Just a quick scouting trip. He was the eyes, and you did a quick little recon on the inside, but you’d gotten a little jammed up inside with your cover. Nothing happened, really, you weren’t compromised, there hadn’t even been any struggle, but the threat of exposure and ruining any future chances had been so damn high that you’d been tense and wired for hours.

Even on the flight home you were jittery, forcing yourself to take deep breaths every now and again. When you went to grab a coffee, hoping the ritual and the warm steam would help you relax, Clint practically slapped it out of your hands, insisting it was past midnight and you were tuned up enough without a double dose of caffeine. He was probably right, but you pouted nonetheless.

Finally back at the compound you trudged to your room and made straight for the shower. The heat helped to settle your tense muscles but not your mind. You couldn’t help replaying all the ways your cover went off plan, and when you shook your head and forced yourself to think of something else, your thoughts went immediately to Bucky.

Completely lost in your head, you stepped out of the bathroom in your most comfy pair of pajamas, toweling the water from your hair. You reached for your phone on your dresser, eyes locked on it as you spun, thumbing through your notifications since you’d been gone with Clint.

“How attached are you to your egg roll?”

You screamed and threw your phone, pressing your hand over your racing heart all in one clumsy and very un-Avenger-like motion. All you could manage was a glare in Bucky’s direction, your mouth hanging open, trying to regain control of a single goddamn thought.

“Because they’re really good, and I’ll trade you my wontons for your egg roll,” he suggested, before stuffing a rather large glob of gooey Kung Pao chicken into his mouth. He looked impossibly, perplexingly comfortable on your bed, once again leaning on the headboard with his legs crossed at the ankle in front of him, a white cardboard carton of Chinese food in one hand and a few wax paper wrappers around him holding, you could only assume your eggroll and his wontons.

As your heart stopped racing and your brain caught up, you eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t move closer. “Bucky…” you started in a tired hum, draping your towel over the back of a chair and preparing for an uncomfortable conversation.

“Alright fine,” he interrupted, “Keep your eggroll, but hurry up and get over here so we can start the movie. You look exhausted.” He wiped his hands on a napkin from your nightstand and held his arm out to you. “C’mon!” he insisted, like curling against him in your bed with Chinese food was the most obvious thing you could do, like nothing had happened, like this was just something you two did, like everything was okay.

You really weren’t sure what to say, so you just… did it. You crawled slowly into your bed, pulling the covers up to your waist and sitting a respectable distance from him. He handed you the carton of chicken he had been eating from and picked up the remote.

“I was thinking Ratatouille, what d’you think?” he asked, “No one dies, right? Not as bad as the Fox and the Hound?”

You shook your head and grimaced, your mouth full of Chinese food. “Mmm no,” you gulped down the food in your mouth. “No, it’s good, but we are not watching a movie about a rat who cooks French food while eating Chinese food!”

“Fair point,” Bucky agreed, paging down through more movies. “Okay, how about this one?”

You shook your head, “No, you’ve gotta watch Finding Nemo first.” He groaned in frustration, clearly tired of this process. “How about the Lion King?” you suggested, “It’s right there.”

“Sold.” He picked the movie and as it started up.

You leaned forward, gripping the eggroll for a microphone, belting your most ostentatious attempt at the intro. “Naaaaaaaants ingonyamaaaaaaaaa bagiiithi babaaaaa!!!!”

He only stared at you in slack-jawed awe before laughter overtook you both.

“Laugh it up,” you teased, feeling more normal, more like yourself more like the two of you had been before that damn kiss. “When we’re done here you’ll be singing these songs too.”

“I think you’ll have to go to Sam for that,” he laughed.

“Oh I already do,” you insisted, “Have you not gone to karaoke with us? He and I kill it with I’ll Make A Man Out Of You.”

Bucky grimaced, staring at you, confused and unsure. “That doesn’t sound appropriate.”

“Okay, Mulan is next on the list,” you laughed, handing him the half empty carton of food. “I’m stuffed; will you set that over there?”

As he leaned away from you to set the carton down, you shimmied down into the bed, adjusting the pillows so your head was propped up near his hip but your body curved away from him. It took you by surprise that he was here at all, and it was a comforting gesture that he’d bought dinner and had waited up for you, but you just weren’t convinced. The sting of his vanishing act still bit every time you thought of curling up to him. This felt like something friends would do… apart from that kiss which he’d run away from. You absolutely would not push him into more.

As you pulled the blanket high on your shoulder, curling it under your chin, Bucky turned back with a reactionary “Hey!” You looked up at him, confused and alarmed, thinking you’d spilled something or stolen his pillow.

“What are you doing? Get over here?” he held his arm out above your head and sunk down further into the bed, urging you to curl into him like you had done in the past.

You hesitated, taking a deep breath. It was all you wanted, really, but if you were going to be just friends, you needed to be careful, protect yourself, not get too attached. Thinking hard for a moment, you chewed your lip before deciding it wouldn’t hurt too bad to just cuddle. You slipped into the pocket between his arm and chest, your head falling comfortably against his shoulder, your arm draped easily over his stomach. He brought his hand to meet yours and tangled the tips of his fingers with yours, dancing them over yours, between, beneath, on top in slow, mindless, erratic patterns.

Your gaze was stuck on your fingers and his, not paying any attention to the movie. You sank a little when his other hand drifted to the back of your head, stroking your hair. After a few minutes you felt his cheek rest on the top of your head. Then you heard it. A soft kiss on your hair. It was too much and you pushed up suddenly.

“Bucky, I can’t… you can’t do that!” you stammered.

“What do you mean, sweet--”

“No! No, you can’t… No cute nicknames, you can’t kiss me, you can’t touch me like that and… and just be my friend.” You couldn’t look him in the eye, instead choosing to stare at the loose thread you were toying with on comforter between you. “I like you, and it’s too much if you do these things and you don’t feel the same. We can watch movies and I don’t mind cuddling a little, but all of this is too much, I need boundaries...”

You were rambling and it was aimless, and you were really just trying to put as many words and as much time as possible between now and the moment you had said you liked him so that maybe, just maybe he’d forget you’d said it and it wouldn’t ruin everything again.

You hadn’t realized he was quietly repeating your name, trying to pull your attention out of your head until his hand was on yours, stopping your fidgeting. You finally lifted your eyes to his, after taking and holding a deep breath.

“But I do feel the same,” he urged, those steely blue eyes unwavering on yours.

“You do?” you asked, confused, “But last time you--”

“I know,” he sighed, “I’m sorry. I fucked that up. I came to your room at 2 in the morning and then we… I didn’t want you to think I came here just for that. And then you seemed upset and I didn’t want to make things worse so I left, but I think only I made them a lot worse.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “I figured you were coming to sleep with me, but like… actual sleep. I think we were probably on the same page.” You shook your head laughing at the absurdity of the situation and rolled your hand over, curling your fingers around his hand. “How about we start over? And we both understand that if you come here at 2 in the morning it might just be for a Disney sleepover, but you can also know that if it’s a… HBO sleepover, that’s okay with me too.”

“Plan A and Plan B, very clear,” he agreed, locking his fingers around yours and leaning forward to kiss you gently. This time you weren’t surprised at all and you met him with equal force, your fingertips drifting over the line of his jaw before you pulled away smiling.

You quickly settled back into a comfortable space, wrapped around each other, watching the movie. It was still new and thrilling, everywhere you skin met his felt like it was on fire and you were hyper aware of every breath, every movement, every soft stroke until it all became a soft rhythm that signaled to you that Bucky was asleep beside you.

Shifting to reach for the remote, you set a sleep timer and then curled up next to him. In the early stages of sleep he must sensed the change and shifted too, bringing one very heavy metal arm careening down on your face. It felt like a rocket had erupted under your skin, a hot pain shot through your cheek and eye in an instant, quickly settling to a dull but insistent throb.

With a yelp, you jumped up, shoving his hand away and holding your cheek. Bucky woke in the same instant looking frantically around the room for the source of your pain as if it was some intruder or phantom from his dream, not yet fully awake.

“Bucky, it was you,” you laughed, placing a reassuring hand to his knee and biting your lip to keep back the tears. It hurt like hell, but you didn’t want him to freak out.

“What?” he asked, confused and upset, “What do you mean? Was I? Did I have a nightmare?”

“No, no!” you insisted, as he twisted, flicking on the lamp on your table. “You only just fell asleep and you just rolled over, Bucky, I’m fine.”

He reached for your face, tilting your chin so he could get a better angle in the light. “Shit,” he mumbled “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

“Bucky you were asleep!” you insisted. “God that thing sure weighs a ton, huh?” you joked, trying to get him to relax, to see that you weren’t upset. There was nothing to be upset about, it was a genuine accident, you were completely fine.

“Let me get you some ice.”

He was gone a second later and you sighed, fearing he’d bolt again. When he came back with a ziplock bag of crushed ice from the fridge wrapped in a thin towel, you pressed it to your face and immediately started rambling about how you were fine, it really wasn’t a big deal, please could you just finish the movie together?

“Move over,” he insisted, sliding into bed on the other side of you. “I can’t swing at you again if you’re on my left.” He grinned, pulling you close with his left arm, wrapping it around your shoulders so you were laying on it.

You smiled, relieved that this wasn’t going anywhere.

“I really am sorry,” he murmured against the top of your head, “You sure you’re okay? Want some ibuprofen or something?”

“I’m fine, really.”

“How exactly did you manage to give yourself a black eye?” Nat snapped, taking your chin in her hand and tilting your head so she could get a better look. “Clint said your recon yesterday was clean.” Her sharp green eyes were narrowed on you and damn, was she intimidating.

“It was just a stupid accident,” you insisted, because that was true, and the closer to the truth the easier it was to lie, the more likely she was to believe it.

“That’s not an answer,” she continued probing, “And why does Barnes keep looking over here?” Her piercing gaze locked on Bucky in a second.

“Probably because you look like you’re about to punch me,” you teased.

“Did he?” she was on you again in an instant, her voice low and insistent.

“Did he what?” you asked. Shit. How was she so damn good at this?

She didn’t repeat the question, only tilted her head, still glaring at you, this time with a heavy dose of concern pulling her unnaturally smooth skin into a deep crease between her brows and pressing her lips into a hard line.

“No!” you cried, “No. Nat, I’m telling you it was an accident. I’m fine. Will you please just drop it.”

Her hard gaze remained on you for a long moment more before she finally relented and stepped aside, letting you pass with the bowl of salad for the table. It took her about 3 seconds to reach Bucky, a small paring knife slamming hard into the wooden cutting board where he was working on shredding cheese for topping off dinner.

He only rolled his eyes and turned his head to look at her, making a show of giving her his attention. She demanded it, but he didn’t have to be happy about giving it.

“Did you hurt her?” She asked in Russian, her tone was ice cold and a sharp hush.

“I was asleep, Tasha,” he sighed, returning in Russian. “I was half sitting up and when I rolled over and my left arm fell on her cheek. Like she said; an accident. It’s not going to happen again.”

Natasha glared at him, looking him up and down. She took half a step back, and uncurled her fingers from the small knife, but left it protruding from the cutting board. “If you hurt her, I’ll be the one coming for you,” she told him matter-of-factly, like it was some agreement you’d signed just for being her friend. “And it won’t be pretty. I still have a big ugly scar on my hip from Odessa!”

“What about when you tried to strangle me with a wire in D.C.!” he snapped at her retreating form.

“Chokehold in Berlin!”

“Why are we even friends?” he mumbled.

“Because you’re a good guy when you’re not a brainwashed zombie,” she smiled, annoyingly sweet as she leaned back into the room, nearly gone.

“I could say the same for you,” he grinned, throwing a piece of the cheese rind at her, which she of course dodged.

“Exactly why we’re friends!” she hollered from the hall before disappearing outside.

“You okay?” she asked you, with a kinder smile, sliding into the seat next to you with a pack of frozen peas.

“For the thousandth time, yes,” you sighed. “He tell you?”

She nodded with a grin, serving herself some salad, and you leaned forward, letting your elbow fall with a heavy thunk to the table as you leaned your face into the bag of peas. “Who knew cuddling could be so dangerous.”

Fun fact, this is a wonderfully embarrassing story from my life. XD I didn’t get a black eye but I was chilling with this guy I was kinda seeing and he started to fall asleep watching a movie and he jerked and totally nailed me in the face. lol

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[vagrantblvrd]

Given Michael’s love for the Ruiner 2000 I would love that  Knight Rider AU. (You know the one.)

Michael [Name Redacted] ~hardcore criminal who gets recruited into the Roosters new law enforcement agency program after shit goes spectacularly wrong for him one day and he walks into an ambush.

Gavin’s the main brain behind Michael’s new partner, and it turns out that he has an Arch Nemesis in the Vagabond. (This is discovered over the course of his ~adventures, because of course it is.)

Michael agrees to work with the agency because he figures they’re his best bet of figuring what the hell is going on with his life. Also, sweet car?

He gets a new identity to go with his new face. Rolls his eyes when he sees they game him possibly the best/worst last name in “Jones”, but hey. Whatever.

Goes around being a do-gooder for a bit. Meets up with the Mobile Operations Platform or MOP for short (lolololol) after missions to bicker with Gavin and give Matt a hard time and so on and so on. Bonds with the others working for the agency and reluctantly admits to himself it’s not so bad working with these assholes.

And Gavin, okay.

He’s this annoying little shit always with his questions about Michael and his partnership with the Ruiner (let’s just call it MOGAR, because it makes me laugh). Also, the utterly stupid, ridiculous hypothetical questions he comes up with and God, he cannot stand the guy. 

Really.

Except you know, for the time spent in the lab when MOGAR’s on the fritz after a rough mission, watching Gavin work. Arguing with this A.I. he helped develop. Catches him playing games when he can’t sleep, mind going a mile a minute and holy shit, he’s so fucking bad, better show him how it’s done, right?

Taking him for a spin in MOGAR when they’re testing out upgrades - new missiles/speed boosts. The fucking parachute, that kind of thing.

Gavin getting caught up in trouble every so often and Michael and MOGAR coming to the rescue. And that, of course,results in Michael trying to teach the idiot to defend himself? 

Montage scene of Michael teaching him how to throw a punch, how to shoot - all the things that require them being in each other’s personal space and the like. Empty shooting range at some Rooster base or a city they’re stopped in for a bit. 

Michael fighting it because he knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s gotten so damn fond of Gavin over time. May or may not have ~feelings for him, and vice versa but they’re both too dumb to do anything about it?

AND THEN.

They get word the Vagabond’s been seen again in Los Santos after going underground for a bit. He’s been gangs and crews apart and whatnot and they think he’s setting up to make his move, do something big, and Michael, okay.

It’s never sat right with him, the things they say he did. Less and less so the longer he spends working for the agency because how could he do what they say he did? 

But he must have, because it’s in the files they showed him that first time, the ones he convinced Gavin to help him find. Try to piece together a picture of the kind of man this Michael [Name Redacted] was through the old records and reports various law enforcement agencies have of him.

Gavin keeps looking though, because this is important to Michael and he has the feeling something’s wrong too, but he doesn’t say anything. Just does what he can to help Michael. 

The thing, though, is that if his records and files are a hard read, the Vagabond’s are worse.

Nothing redeeming to be found about the guy anywhere, but Michael can’t shake the feeling that’s wrong too. 

Call it a gut feeling, whatever, something isn’t right.

More ~adventures on their way to Los Santos, Michael getting more and more restless because everything feels wrong and he doesn’t know why.

Gets his memory back in bits and pieces, little flashes here and there that don’t make sense and just end up frustrating himself. Stupid useless brain, and then they get word something’s happening in Los Santos, where all of this started.

His superiors want him to take the Vagabond out before he succeeds at whatever he’s planning, and he can’t tell them no because on paper he’s an absolute monster.

Gavin and Matt and the others get all worried because Michael’s not acting like himself. (When Gavin says so, it’s all Michael can do not to laugh in his face because how the fuck would Gavin know that? Michael doesn’t even fucking know.)

There’s a fight, and Michael takes off for a drive in MOGAR while the MOP is stopped somewhere to refuel and take on supplies and whatnot.

When he gets back a day or two later the thing is on fire, and holy shit, what the fuck happened???

His superiors tell him it was the Vagabond and Michael is like, well all right then, guess this is it - and then Matt runs in. Tells him the Vagabond has Gavin because of course he does.

Michael doesn’t hear whatever else his superiors are saying after that, just looks at Matt who looks like shit. Has his arm in a sling and look, has his arm in a sling and exhausted because the attack on the MOP was not a gentle thing, people died and the Vagabond has Gavin and goddamn it.

So he sneaks out while his superiors are making plans - plans Michael already know won’t work, will get Gavin killed - and Matt stops him.

Does the thing where Michael and MOGAR are leaving the Rooster base and have to slam on the brakes because Matt’s the kind of idiot who’d stand in the middle of the road in their way. Didn’t consider for a moment Michael and MOGAR might not stop in time, so Michael gets out and starts to yell at Matt - 

“Holy shit, dude, that was close.”

Michael’s so fucking angry because Matt shouldn’t be here, should be back at the base not getting run over - 

And Matt is like, “So, Gavin didn’t have time to install them, but he came up with new upgrades for MOGAR. Also, he found some stuff you need to see?”

They go to a ~secret Rooster base where Matt and some of the techs from the agency install the upgrades and Michael goes over the files and whatnot Gavin found. 

Something that looks like a cover-up, like the cops in Los Santos are dirty. Did their best to make Michael the scapegoat for some horrendous crimes and he wants to believe it, but he doesn’t have the time for that now.

Tell Matt to keep the files somewhere safe, not to tell anyone about them and takes off to rescue Gavin and maybe get some answers. (Knows exactly which on is the top priority, easy decision in the and.)

And then he gets to Los Santos and MOGAR helps him track Gavin down and then there’s the ~tense confrontation between Michael and the Vagabond.

This little cat and mouse game in the warehouse Gavin’s being kept in (fuckin’ cliché bullshit). Just when they get to the ~dramatic showdown they hear something being knocked over and some British idiot going, “Shit.”

Both of them looking over to see Gavin trying to get his foot untangled from old rope or wires or something and doing a terrible job of it. Falling on his ass and muttering to himself because that’s just perfect, isn’t it?

Michael looking at the Vagabond because the guy just sighed, probably one of the few people who truly understand what a goddamned pain Gavin is. Probably should feel like that’s something they agree on, because Arch Nemesis? But, uh.

 Also Gavin, who finally notices he’s not alone and freezes. And then looks annoyed - with them.

Yanks his foot free and stomps over, gets up in their faces and they back up because he looks genuinely angry and that’s startlingly rare.

And then Gavin starts yelling at them, demanding to know what the hell they’re doing.

Michael and the Vagabond sharing this look because, uh, Arch Nemesis???

Gavin sighing like they’re the idiots.

Pokes the Vagabond in the chest, “Did you not read the files I sent you?”

Turns to Michael and flaps his hands, “And you! I told Matt to give you the files if something happened, don’t tell me - “

There’s this little tremor in his voice because, again, that attack on the MOP was not a gentle thing. It occurs to Michael he might not even know Matt survived, and oh,shit.

“Uh, yeah,no. He gave them to me. Kind of had other things on my mind, though? Like this asshole kidnapping you, maybe?”

The Vagabond snorting, arms crossed as he looks at Michael like he’s the idiot, and okay, goddammit. Michael is an idiot, but this time he doesn’t know why?

And then Gavin explains that he fond out someone has something very, very bad planned for Los Santos (the ~world, but Los Santos is a good start) and intends to place the blame on Michael and the Vagabond?

Started by framing them for all the crimes that are in their records and whatnot

He and Matt discovered the cover-up not too long ago, but the moment they did Gavin cut Matt out. Tried to keep him out of it, refused to tell him what he’d found because it’s ~dangerous. Someone needed to be there to take care of MOGAR and Michael if the baddies realized they were on to them, you know?

And he found a way to get into contact with the Vagabond (not all the the people working for the Roosters came from a law enforcement background, after all). Has been sending him all this information when the baddies realized what was going on and decided to put a stop to it, and hey. If they can pin the blame on the Vagabond, all the better right?

The Vagabond showing up when he found out and grabbing Gavin in the confusion when people were trying to kill him very, very dead. Running out to this safe house he’s been using and waiting for Michael to show up.

Michael just listening and being so confused because why? Why him? Why this weirdo in the stupid mask?

Gavin faltering, not meeting Michael’s eyes, not meeting the Vagabond’s. 

“Because we were partners,” the Vagabond says, looking at Michael. “And you said - “

He stops, anger leaking into his voice and says, “You said you’d stumbled onto something. The reason the cops were after us so fucking hard, said you knew what was going on. Said you got a call from a an old contact, and then you fucking died on me.”

~DRAMA~

Gavin and the Vagabond filling Michael in on what they’ve found - because they’ve been working together for who knows how long now. Trying to get to the bottom of things, and it’s super ridiculously bad action movie?

Like.

Michael and the Vagabond being partners for a while, but not the monsters the baddies are trying to make them out to be. Not the guy Michael’s been reading about for over a year now, this twisted fuck who’s done horrible things and laughed about them - because that’s a thing all the files and report agree on. 

This asshole delights in the chaos and destruction he caused. This laugh he’s heard that were recorded by news cameras or a bystander with a phone and no common sense. This laugh that’s made appearances in Michael’s nightmares. This thing that’s so close to the one that bursts out of him when he and MOGAR are perfectly in sync in the field, fucking up whatever stupid plan the baddie of the week has set up. When he fucks with Gavin or Matt or any of other Roosters.

And now he finds out that he’s not that fucked up asshole, that he never was. That the Vagabond isn’t the monster they told Michael he was, either.

Oh, they were never nice people, that’s for fucking sure, but they’re not depraved fuckers either.

The Vagabond staring at Michael as he talks, like he’s looking for his old partner in Michael’s new face. Trying to see if he’s still in there or if he’s someone else entirely, a stranger.

 And this is the thing neither Gavin or the Vagabond tell Michael because the Vagabond made Gavin fucking promise, or else. 

That whole partners thing? 

True in more than one sense of the word, but you know, no reason to rip that old wound open again, right? Not when Michael doesn’t know, doesn’t remember, and there are more important things to deal with. 

(Gavin wondering why everyone he knows is so stupid? Like Matt and that nice agent Jeremy at the one of the Roosters’ bases the MOP tends to stop off at, and now this? Also, ouch, his own little heart, but you know. Not like Michael is interested or anything, so...)

Michael agreeing to work with the Vagabond (and Gavin) to clear their names. Getting in touch with Matt and various sources and coming up with a plan of action and spending the downtime being awkward idiots together. 

Because you know, The Vagabond is still a notorious criminal, and Michael is law enforcement now. (Technically, although really he’s just not a raging douchebag when he stumbles on situations here and there or gets handed an assignment. Does the Right Thing even though it gets him yelled at most of the tie for his...unique way of resolving things?)

And Gavin is just acting like nothing’s strange about this at all?

Pushes the Vagabond around in the man’s own space like it’s nothing, like he wouldn’t kill him for it, and oh, God.

Michael having a heart attack every fucking time Gavin does it the first few days? Until he realizes the Vagabond’s actually amused by the little idiot. Is giving him shit and fucking with him for shits and giggles. That the guy seems to like Gavin, God help him. (Gavin hasn’t started in on his stupid questions, too busy trying to untangle this mess, but it’s only a matter of time.)

Michael and the Vagabond having those weirdly awkward moments together when Gavin’s working on/with MOGAR or sacked out after pulling an all nighter.

Michael trying to figure the guy out and vice versa because Michael wants to know the kind of guy he’s dealing with here since everything he was told is a lie. And Ryan, he’s doing the same because this isn’t the Michael he knew, and he has to remind himself of that too many fucking times because he is, where it matters, and it’s fucking hard remembering.

The two of them fighting and Gavin and MOGAR pointedly ignoring the pair of idiots being angry at each other for the wrong reasons.

More ~DRAMA~ until they start to get along, act like a team.

Michael taking the Vagabond out for a spin in MOGAR, Gavin screeching in the backseat because Michael drives like a maniac.

Eventually they get to the point where they’re ready to bring the baddies down, The Vagabond and Michael and Gavin and the people they trust to be on their side in this, and they go do the thing. 

Everything goes to shit immediately, but that’s okay because they planned for that? (Maybe not Gavin getting grabbed by the baddies, but you know.)

Car chases and explosions and things on fire - so many things on fire.

They get to the device or virus or whatever the baddie was going to use for his ~evil plan, and head baddie makes his escape using Gavin as a human shield.

Leave the Roosters to deal with rounding up the baddies hired muscle and handle clean-up while they do the Hero Thing. 

More car chases and explosions and things on fire - many more things on fire.

End up chasing head baddie through his company’s office building taking out cannon fodder hired muscle along the way. 

Keeping score for each one they drop - dead or incapacitated - and Michael wondering if this is what is like with them before. Anticipating each other and covering their weak spots without having to think about it, that kind of thing - 

And then they get to the baddie - on the roof of the office building with a waiting chopper because of course. 

Why break his terrible cliché streak now? 

Typical stand-off with Evil Villain Monologue. Michael and the Vagabond letting the baddie confess everything, otherwise how would they ever clear their names? 

Best to have it recorded and all, and Gavin watching Michael and the Vagabond for his cue because he’s not helpless. 

After they get what the need out of the baddie Gavin puts some of the training Michael gave him to use and  gets himself free and out of the line of fire.

There’s this pause where the baddie realizes he just lost his leverage, is facing two people he’s tried to kill at least once (came damn close with Michael). These very dangerous men he’s been framing for horrible crimes for a while now, and that’s probably not good, right?

Especially when he went after their friends, allies, too. Went after Gavin.

And the thing is, the Michael from before, the one the Vagabond knew, wouldn’t have hesitated to put a bullet in this fuckers head. (Not a nice person, after all.)

The baddie tries to use that against him, twisting the things Michael did. Telling him he’s gotten soft, working for the Roosters. Isn’t the killer he used to be.

Goes on and on and on, and Michael just stares at him, lowers his gun and listens to the idiot gloating when he goes to check on Gavin. Turns his back on this piece of shit. 

The baddie’s getting more and more agitated, spitting insults and threats because money talks, and he’s rich a million times over, a billion. He’ll be out on good behavior within a year. This is just a setback. They can’t stop him, he’ll be back for them, for that stupid pet scientist of theirs - 

The other thing is, the Vagabond from before, the one that Michael used to know, wouldn’t have hesitated to put a bullet in this fuckers head. (Not a nice person, after all.)

The difference between them, of course, is that the Ryan now is colder, sharper without Michael there to give him a reason not to be.

And this man, this pathetic little bastard took Michael from him, and is threatening to it all over again. To hurt Gavin, who he likes for some unknown reason, and Ryan?

He doesn’t hesitate to put a bullet in the bastard’s head now.

Doesn’t have to after the baddie snaps when they don’t react to his insults or threats. When he pulls a gun and starts to swing it around to bear on Michael and Gavin.

Just pulls the trigger and down he goes along with all the twisted little plots he carefully crafted.

Michael meeting his eyes, both of them knowing the bastard wasn’t going to leave here alive anyway. (Not nice people, because that comes back to bite you in the ass and you do what you have to in order to protect what’s yours.)

They call in the Roosters for additional clean-up and get the hell out of there. Go outside to find MOGAR waiting for them and start driving off into the sunset, as you do when these things are over - 

But then Gavin is like NO. Tells MOGAR to take them someplace for medical care because Michael and the Vagabond didn’t get through this mess unscathed. Are a little beaten up, a little shot, and so on and only idiots don’t get those kind of injuries seen to!

Michael and the Vagabond turning that right back around on Gavin who isn’t exactly a vision of beauty himself, what with getting knocked around to keep him in line and such.

Debriefing and all that fun stuff happens, the Roosters working with various law enforcement agencies to clear everything up.

Get Michael’s name cleared along with the Vagabond’s and their shady allies too. Get them pardoned of their crimes for saving Los Santos/~the world.

Michael not sure what to do now because a lot of shit happened, and he’s not the monster he thought he was, but he’s not this ~hero the Roosters tried to turn him into. 

The Vagabond intending to vanish somewhere, but Gavin is very much intentionally stalling him with Matt’s help. (That whole whole mess of Michael and the Vagabond, and without any ~peril on the horizon maybe they can do something about that. Gavin’s seen the way Michael keeps looking at the Vagabond, and vice versa and it would be nice if they did something about it???)

Also, there’s talk of the Vagabond being an asset the Roosters would love to have on their side, if he can be convinced to sign up, so...

Gavin making himself scarce because it’s easier all around that way. Buries himself in his work, tweaking MOGAR’s systems and the like. Asking his opinions on new weapons and such.

Doesn’t expect Michael and the Vagabond to corner him one night, ask him why he’s been avoiding them.

“The fuck, Gavin?”

And Gavin, all right. He’s tired and worn down and maybe not quite healed up from the whole saving the world thing. Maybe gives himself away, gestures at Michael and the Vagabond who are working towards something. He’s honestly glad for them, but he’s got work to do so if they could leave him to it, that would be lovely.

“Holy shit, you’re an idiot.”

“What he said.”

Gavin looking at them all confused because they’re not wrong, but an explanation would be nice and all?

And then the awkward confession and leaving it up to Gavin if he’d be interested in two emotionally stunted criminals - 

“You’ve been pardoned - “

“Not the point, asshole.”

- and if he is, maybe stop by their quarter later to watch movies with them. 

“Netflix and Chill?”

“Shut the fuck up, asshole. Bring bevs if you decide to show, and not the cheap stuff.”

========

Gavin totally does show up, and he totally brings the cheap stuff.

Michael recovers his memory a little at a time. Has moments where he struggled to reconcile his past with his present, but he manages. Has Ryan and Gavin and MOGAR. The rest of the Roosters.

Ryan may or may not tinker a bit with MOGAR’s weapons systems, poke at the A.I. Gavin and Matt are developing for future agents. May or may not help Michael out on missions. Absolutely terrifies new agents and science staff, makes friends with that nice agent Jeremy.

Matt may or may not make a move at an office party at some point, may or may not make Michael and Ryan a few hundred dollars richer thanks to the betting pool.