#and before Daniel can even say anything he's stepping into her apartment and getting a vase from her cupboard

[123pixieaod]

Inspired by this godly post which unlocked a part of my brain I didn't know existed, and solidly gave me complete and utterly brainrot until I wrote something

A thousand thanks to Lily for her wonderful help :))

"Does Kelly not mind you spending all your time with me?" Daniel asks, because she's Daniel and once she's thought something she can't keep her fucking mouth shut, even if she knows it's trouble.

Max looks up, pausing his set of weights, and blinks at her. Daniel feels her cheeks warm. One day, that mouth of yours will run you straight into trouble, young lady, her mum used to tell her, voice firm. Good girls know when to keep quiet. Daniel used to just laugh at the warning. Her laugh is loud and the opposite of quiet, but she used to know that everyone always loved her laugh.

"No," Max says after a beat and then continues lifting. Daniel hates the way her gaze tracks over him, lingering on the movement of his muscles, the ease with which he lifts the weight. Tawny hair brushed out of his eyes, cheeks dusted warm from the exertion. "Of course not."

"Why of course not?" Daniel asks. She wants to sew her mouth shut. This time, Max didn't look over as he answers.

"Kelly's very secure, she's not like other girls. And besides, she knows you."

It's strange. When Daniel was seven and Michelle eleven, they'd gone rock pool fishing. Michelle had been crouched over a shallow pool of water, her finger delicately brushing the tentacles of the anemone. Daniel had been scaling the rocks, wanting steeper, taller, more.

She'd found the shark first, nestled high at between the rocks, and for a beat she hadn't known what she was looking at. Just details, but nothing collective. Rotting smell. Shrivelled holes where eyes should be. Scales of silver lightning. Rubbery fish picked clean. The flash of bone, pearl white.

Then she realised what she was staring at, and screamed. Her father held her while her mother scolded her. I told you not to go climbing! It's too dangerous, Daniel. Why can't you just be good like your sister and stay by the shallow pools?

And then, later, ice cream. Her dad, beside her, explaining the horror away.

It's just nature, Dani. The waves wash them up, and they get stuck there. They can't get back to the sea, and then the sun dries them out.

They drown on air, Michelle helpfully pointed out, her feet kicking happily as she licked her 99. Daniel just just nodded, ice cream untouched. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the sunken holes, the rotting flesh.

She hasn't thought about that moment for years, but suddenly it washes back over her. She feels simultaneously both. The child, staring at the carcass, frozen in shock. The shark, burning up in the sun, chocking on air.

"What does that mean?" She asks, and somehow her voice is normal, is fine. She's fine. She's not a girl or a shark. She's stupid and a fool and a gawky, ugly idiot, but she's fine.

Max manages to shrug, even with the 50kg weights. "You know. Just that Kelly knows you. She knows what you're like. And she knows me too, of course."

Daniel swallows. She nods. She hates everything about herself.

"That's sexist," she forces herself to say lightly because if the silence stretches anymore, Max might notice and set his weights down and look at her, and Daniel can't bear that. She doesn't want his eyes on her, taking in every blemish and imperfection. The boyish, ratty clothes she works out in and her curls gone frizzy with sweat and her inked skin, so different to Max and Kelly's pale, perfect complexions.

"What's sexist?"

"Saying she's not like other girls," Daniel tells him, setting down the weights she been doing. Instead, she goes to grab the skipping rope, just for something to do.

Max laughs. Daniel's glad she's turned away. Her cheeks are burning again.

"It's the truth. You, of course, Daniel, are not like other girls either." He says it lightly and ends with a chuckle, as if it's all just a joke. Daniel drags a sweaty hand over her cheeks. Burning, burning, burning.

Apparently, in Max's mind, she and Kelly are the same; both not like other girls. Kelly, with her faultless makeup and wonderful daughter and classy dresses and perfect feminity. One end of the scale. Daniel, the other. Barely even considered "a girl." Always one of the boys, only woman in f1 for a reason.

"Thanks," Daniel says. She wants to make it sound humorous, like she's in on the joke too. Instead, it's too cold; muttered as if she actually gave two shits about the conversation anyway. She has an F1 season to prepare for, she's too busy to care about stupid shit like this.

There's a beat of silence as Daniel stretches out the rope, feeling the plastic flex and give. Then, Max exhaling, the gentle bump of his weights against the floor, the workout bench shifting as his centre of gravity changes. Daniel keeps her back to him, ignoring it all.

"I did not mean it as insult," Max finally says, stubborn. Daniel forces a laugh, turning to give him a smile, all teeth.

"Of course not Maxy. I get that." Voice light and blithe. One of the boys.

She thinks he'll drop it, but instead, his frown only grows. Pinched brows, thin lips, cheeks growing blotchy. Blue eyes regard her, intense and unyielding. She burns from the inside out.

"I've upset you," he says, in that blunt, genuine way only he can do. Daniel barks out another laugh.

"Don't be stupid. You're not important enough to ever be able to get under my skin." She gives him another smile with only teeth. She feels insane. Her mother tells her good girls stay quiet.

"I'm sorry," he tries again, growing frustrated now, "I did not mean -"

"I told you, you didn't upset me," she drops the skipping rope without actually using it. "Anyway, I'm bored. Wanna get lunch now? Or are you still trying to pump those muscle with more testosterone?"

Max gives her one last, searching look before standing. They're almost the same height. She wants to shrink to nothing.

"That is not how testosterone works, Daniel," he says with the air of an overworked teacher. He looks at her with a smile, uncertain but genuine. She laughs, allowing him to move the conversation on.

She walks out of the gym first but holds the door for him. He grins, relieved. His fingers skim hers as he takes it and she lets go. A chill runs through her. Cold like scales, cold like ice cream untouched.

Follow up here!

[starry-bi-sky]

Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well: 

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.  

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents. 

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill. 

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.) 

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one. 

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself. 

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.) 

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.) 

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.  

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe. 

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.  

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal. 

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking. 

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter. 

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind. 

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous. 

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own. 

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t. 

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward. 

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”) 

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)  

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell. 

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his. 

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it. 

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.   

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now. 

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own. 

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)  

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother. 

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten. 

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands. 

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely. 

It is a fast dream. 

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods. 

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him. 

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal. 

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train. 

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.) 

—---  

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again. 

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person. 

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.) 

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)   

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird. 

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is. 

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off. 

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom. 

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.) 

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

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

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

[sunsetloverrsss]

Let it snow

December 2020

Evie woke up that Tuesday morning earlier than daniel as per usual those last couple months during quarantine since she had to teach her class. Glancing out the window of their apartment they shared together she saw it was snowing. Usually when Evie saw snow she'd be over the moon happy it was her favourite but not this time she wasn't in the mood.

Pushing it aside even continued about her morning which consisted of feeding oreo and taking her medication in the hopes of preventing the flare up happening that she knew was coming and no amount pain meds would stop it. Though her only hope was to prolong it. She chose a simple breakfast that morning of just some yoghurt and fruit before she settled down infant of her computer for the day.

As daniel awoke and got up he to also noticed the weather he knew it should bring a smile to Evie's face. He walked into the kitchen with a pep in his step looking forward to seeing Evie. "Hey good sweetie how are you feeling" he asked her giving her a pack on the forhead. " yeh I'm okay just a little crampy. I'm done work for the day it was just a quick check with the kids" she smiled at him. In the 3 years Daniel has known Evie he was surprised she wasn't more happy over the idea of it snowing outside. Though then he also knew she had alot going on at the moment.

He walked over to the counter hopped onto it and he started to eat an apple. He figured he'd bring it into the conversation. "Sooo I see it's snowing outside you must be happy" he said to her in-between bites. She glanced at him and give him a small smile before mumbling "yeh I guess it's nice". That was it daniel knew the last few couple months had been hard on her not being able to see her family bit also she had been in alot of pain and suffering alot of flare ups since her endometriosis surgery's kept getting canceled due to covid. Daniel knew she wasn't doing good and I pained him to see her in pain. He knew he had to try and do something to atleast get her smiling for awhile.

That's when he jumped of the counter and grabbed Evie by the arm and dragged her over to their door. He didn't say anything and she was very confused. "Daniel what are you doing" she asked questionably as Daniel picked her hat gloves and scarf up and put them on her. Next was her jacket he zipped it up the whole way before taking a step back and looking at her. "You look beautiful my little squishy marshmallow" he said to her jokingly. Evie laughed back as daniel put on his winter gear too. "Come on" he said to her dragging her outside.

Daniel and Evie stood outside when he turned to her. "Look at this isn't it amazing its your favourite time of the year Evie. I want you to forget about everything for awhile and just enjoy this" he said to her seriously. "Okay I will" she replied as she bent down and formed a snowball in her hand. "Don't you dare THROW THAT AT ME EVIE" he shouted at her happily. She didn't listen and threw it at his arm. "Oh that's it your on" he replied also throwing one at her. "DANNY" she shouted. Next minute she just burst into a fit of laughter.

Daniel walked over to her smothering her in a hug. Evie continued to laugh along with Daniel. He gave her the best hugs it was one of her favourite this about him. Daniel was so happy the hear Evie laughing even if it was only for a short while he knew she needed this. She needed to be able to forget about her endometriosis and everything relating to covid at the moment. "So how about we go build a snowball danny" she said looking up to him. " I think that would be a very good idea." He replied before he got to pull away fully Evie pulled him back. "Thanks for this Dan I really needed it and thanks for always knowing what I need I know sometimes I can be a handful." She said to him "Hey your welcome and you know your never a handful to me all I care about is hearing you laugh. I love you" he replied. "I love you too. Now let's go make that snow man" Evie said enthusiasticly

Enjoy this short little blurb. As always send in and questions you have I'll be happy to answer. Anything at all. 🥰

[not-alien-girl-v]

bro im sad and need 75 fluff

Beside You (George Daniel)

i need u to know how badly i wanted to reply to this with ‘damn that sucks. goodluck tho’

warning: is this too fucked up. you can be honest with me. tw language also i make up my own sayings sometimes so if ur ever reading my work and thinking ‘who the fuck says that’ no one does except for me

note: this is fucked up because i feel like i relate to reader too much. anyways. read at ur own risk

2.8k

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Wallet, phone, gum, breath mints, polaroids, but no keys in her purse. She’s supposed to have them, anyway. George loves to get on her about it every time she forgets them, which is about 50 percent of the time.

And here she is, keyless, outside his house.

It’s like a cruel game, this entire situation. She can hear the laughter inside, voices of her closest friends pooled together in liquid form, swirling around in the room before her like an aquarium of dirty jokes and screaming laughter.

They’re all just on the other side of the door. Just a room away. Yet she’s still on the outside, looking in through some metaphorical window. The curtains are closed, the glass shut to keep the smell of weed and cigarettes inside.

She misses them, more than she can say, more than she thought she would.

‘The door is always open,” she can hear his words ringing through her head. ‘To you,’ an afterthought. She never knows what to make of it when he says things like that.

Again, though, metaphorically, the door is open. Physically? It’s locked tighter than her asshole.

So if not keys, what does she have? Dignity? It’s close to being out the window if she has to knock repeatedly until someone hears her and opens the door, even more so if she has to call him to open it, or any of them, really, she doesn’t want to seem desperate, at least not as desperate as she truly is.

God, she feels like a schoolgirl just at the thought of this whole ordeal. She’s in love with George Daniel. It’s not a hard thing to do, he’s basically the man of any girl’s dreams, but she was just fortunate enough (or perhaps, unfortunate enough) to become friends with him.

Him, and his stupid friends, his stupid house, his stupid locks.

She’s deciding what to do when, magically, the door swings open on its own. But it isn’t magic. It’s just George.

He grins, not like he’s happy to see her, but like he’s happy to be right, prove a point about something. He doesn’t greet her, he takes a step back, letting her cross the threshold on her own terms, and proudly exclaims to his dumbass friends scattered around the living room.

“I was right! I told you she’d be waiting outside like a creep!” Again, making no moves to interact with her at all. No ‘we’ve been apart for 4 months hug.’ No ‘I miss you’, no ‘I’m sorry I don’t answer when you call’, but somehow she loves how he doesn’t care.

He’s nonchalant, the ‘chill’ one of the group, always too high to care too much about anything, but it’s not a fault, not to her. Rose tinted glasses, or something.

Ross is on the single lounge chair, slumped down, joint pinched between the his pointer and thumb of his right hand, Adam sprawled out on the loveseat, stretching his legs out onto George’s previous seat, taking up the entire space of the couch since George got up and abandoned his cushy spot.

Matty’s on the floor. Matty was on the floor, but he twists onto his feet, approaching her in the door way.

“Y/N! It’s good to see your face,” he works his arms over both her shoulders, less of a mutual hug, more him holding her hostage in a death trap for a moment, firm pats and swipes on her clothed back. “I missed you,” that last part is muffled into her hair.

She watches George over Matty’s shoulder, rolling his eyes at Hann, pretending to sit on Ross’s lap for a second before dropping to the ground, legs crossed, and takes the joint from Ross. His mouth hollows around it as he inhales, carved cheekbones on full display.

He’s a spectacle to watch. If she had it her way, she’d never take her eyes off of him. But she can’t have it her way, not yet.

She gives Matty 3 firm rubs on the back, muttering a ‘missed you too’ into his neck, then ducks under his arms, sitting herself an appropriate distance from George on the floor, but close enough to show she wants more than friendship, if that’s even something that can be conveyed through sitting distance.

It’s these types of things that rot her brain every time she’s near him. It’s like a spell he puts her under, she can’t talk right, she gets all blushy and flushed and nervous when she looks at him, so she’s made a habit of looking anywhere else, the floor, her nails, his friends.

She’s snapped out of her daydream by George elbowing her in the ribs to grab her attention. “You want a hit?”

She allows herself a smidge of self-indulgence. Eyes trace his shoulder, rippling muscles under warm skin under colored tattoos, she wanders down it to his arms, veins protruding like he’s completing some impressive feat, one that requires complete contraction of all his muscles, yet between his fingers, all that lays is a tiny joint.

“Uh, yeah,” she decides to allow her fingers to gently brush his own, concluding it’s just the right amount of mix of longing and friendly gesture, romantic and platonic stirred into one touch, and this, this little action, this will be the moment George confesses his true love for her so she doesn’t have to do it first.

She could do it. She could say what she’s been biting her tongue about for years and years now. She could have done it any number of moments these past years.

The night before the boys left for tour, when George stopped by her house impulsively, out in the pouring rain for her until she let him in, and they talked and talked and talked until their throats ran raw and voices croaked. Any pause in the conversation, she could have blurted it out, pulled his lips to hers.

Halloween, 1 year ago, when she dropped acid and began to have a bad trip, she freaked out so hard she was almost inconsolable, when he locked the door behind them in her bedroom and wrestled her frantic self down onto her bed and held her there. He was so close, nearly every inch of his body molded to hers in some way, hell, she could feel his breath on the space behind her ear. They stayed like that for hours. She didn’t utter a word.

She will admit, things have been different as of late. These moments where she thinks she could almost say what she wants to are becoming sparse. Intense, deep moments that make her feel connected to him body and soul. She hasn’t been feeling it as much lately.

Maybe she was pulling away from him, maybe he was pulling away from her, but the distance from tour wasn’t the only space between them.

That didn’t stop her from missing him like hell every time he went away.

“By the way, Y/N, we ordered Chinese before you got here, there’s leftovers in the kitchen,” Adam mumbles to her, like it’s his only volume of voice. Has he ever yelled?

She nods, wordlessly, and walks to the kitchen, hoping to get away from the whirlwind of emotions she is being assaulted by from simply being in the presence of George. Years of friendship and it never gets easier.

She finished a small plate of food quietly in the kitchen. She hears the boys laughing in the room, on the other side of the wall.

Leaning over the sink, she scrapes the plastic fork against the edges of the now empty bowl.

“That was quick,” a voice from behind her, startling her so bad, she drops both items in the sink.

It’s him.

“I was hungry.”

He approaches from behind, getting too close than what she would consider a friendly distance, but George does this all the time.

What he doesn’t do all the time, however, is wrap his arms around her waist from behind. "Missed you," he speaks through an inhale, like he's breathing her in, toxic fumes that swirl around his lungs like smoke.

"Yeah, same." She's a fucking imbecile. How was he supposed to know she loved him when she says such dry things when he's here, wearing his heart on his sleeve as he does. Does he do this to all his female friends?

He hums, not prodding further about the way her voice is unexpectedly monotone. He releases her from his grip, reaching around her for a fortune cookie.

"You had one of these yet? They kind of taste like an old man's ear but I know you love the corny messages inside of them." He's right. She does love that. She loves that he knows she loves it. She loves him.

"Sure," she takes it from him, cracking open the shell and discarding the gross cookie on the counter behind them, as she does so, he settles himself in front of her, trapping her against the counter with both hands resting on it on either side of her, their chests not quite touching but she certainly can feel his warm body next to hers.

"What's it say?" He mumbles, not wanting his buddies to catch him in such a compromising position with one of his closest friends. Matty would surely give him hell for it. 'Why don't you ever treat me like that?'

If Matty weren't so hung up on Y/N, George would swear the boy was gay for him.

She unrolls the white paper. 'You only live once. 19 3 23 90.' Was this thing for real? Were the stars truly aligning so perfectly for her just this once. And the numbers, they're numbers engraved in the same sector of her brain, the sector containing all things George. When rearranged, they would spell out George's birthday. The 23rd of March, 1990.

Fuck, it was like God herself was here, screaming in Y/N's face, "this is a sign! This is a sign!" It was neon, bright pink and green, appearing over the man's head, reflecting of his bleached blond hair. George gazes patiently at her.

"YOLO," she says, and laughs without humor. He cackles, his loud, familiar witchy laugh that makes her weak at the knees, but she doesn't allow herself to swoon.

"No fucking way! Let me see that," he cruelly rips it out of her gentle fingers, eyeing it himself. He exhales a sigh, "what a fucking joke."

A sign. A sign. A sign.

"George. George?" She tries out his name like it's the first time. He doesn't suspect a thing, he glances innocently up at her from the fortune paper.

"Yes, love?" An arrow through her heart, piercing ang stinging, sharp.

"I..."

"What?"

"I love you. I love you. More than as a friend."

And he laughs. He laughs like she just told some tastefully dirty joke to him, like friends would, good friends, best friends. "Yeah, sure."

"I'm serious George. I'm in love with you. I have been for, I don't know, a long time.

He retreats. He backs away, smile wiped from his face.

"No, no." He tries to shake his head like disagreeing with her will make it not true.

"I am. I didn't know how to tell you, I swear, I lost count of all the times I almost did. I was so close for so long, but I was scared. Still am. Please." God, how pathetic does she sound right now. Please? This is not how she planned it. Where was the requited love confession? The passionate kiss? The foreheads pressed together like lovers would? It's nowhere to be found, she's afraid.

"Don't do this. Come on, we've got a good thing going, you and me. Don't ruin it, you're ruining it!" His voice starts to raise.

She fucked up big time.

"I'm ruining it? Me! You didn't call me for 4 months. 4 months, George. You didn't answer my texts, nothing! You left me with nothing for 4 fucking months! Then, when you finally get back, I come to see you and you say nothing! You said nothing to me! No, wait, you called me a creep for standing outside your house. No hug, no 'I missed you'. Nothing, George!"

"Look, I just didn't want to be all sappy about you in front of the guys. It would look... I don't know... weird."

"Oh, ok. So you weren't being all sappy when you were practically groping your ex-girlfriend in a room with everyone? Sucking face, sitting her on your lap, grabbing her tits, that's not too sappy for you. But saying hello to your best friend you haven't heard from in months? That's where you draw the line, huh? Can you just be honest with me? Can you just tell me the fucking truth?"

He's sure everyone's been hearing every single word of this, and to his surprise, no one has intervened yet. Not even Matty.

"Fine, Y/N. You want the truth? If you want it so bad, then you can have it. I knew you loved me. You're so obvious about it, God, I'm not fucking stupid. But I never felt the same way, so I didn't say anything. Is that a crime? It's nothing new to you, you're not my type. If we're both being honest, you're not the most attractive girl. It's not your fault. And it never bothered me because we're friends. Why can't we just be friends? Please, Y/N, stop doing this, you're only making it worse."

"You're such a dick! You're such a fucking dick!"

It's at this point, Matty and Ross pile into the room, Ross trying to diffuse the situation by attempting to escort George out of the tension-filled room, Matty trying to escalate the situation, giving George a slap to the face.

"What the fuck is your problem, asshole? After everything I told you? Everything we've been through?" Now Ross is attempting to pull George away from Matty, Adam joining in to separate Matty from George.

"She's my fucking friend! I'll deal with her how I want to!" George retorts. He attempts lunging at Matty but Ross, full-bodied and strong, holds him back.

"Sure, she's your fucking friend. So what? That means you have the right to treat her like shit when she tells you how she feels? You've been leading her on for years now! Everyone knows it. Ross, Adam, me, you brought this upon your fucking self and now the inevitable has happened and this is how you choose to deal with it! She's a human being, with real feelings, real emotions, and more than that, she's your best friend. Shouldn't that count for something at a time like this?"

The physical aggression has mostly gone away now, and Ross is unsure of what to do, should he break up the argument? Take sides? Back Matty up? Console the now sobbing Y/N? He takes frantic glances to Hann as he debates all the options, Hann, clearly doing the same. They stay frozen in their spots.

"I'm not in love with her. I don't love her, not like that, she just doesn't do it for me. I can't control that. I don't have to love her back, I can't. Besides, I thought you were the one head over heels for her. This should be your lucky day, after a tough rejection, you can swoop in on your white horse and take her for yourself. You should be thanking me, giving you an opening after all this ridiculous pining you've been doing."

"You're right, I do want her. I've wanted her to love me for as long as she's been hung up on you. But I'm a decent fucking guy, and I wouldn't want to start something with her, not under these circumstances. This is all wrong, this isn't right, George. She doesn't deserve this. She cares about you, she cares so much, and you knew this whole time, so obviously you should have known better than to go and treat her like this. Grow a pair, you cunt!" Matty finishes with a harsh poke to George's chest.

Unsurprisingly, George storms out, despite this being his own house, car keys in his pocket, and no one quite knows where he may be off to at a time like this but that's not anyone's main priority anymore.

Matty takes a moment to collect himself, trying to pretend like he's the only one in the room for a moment, before turning around to assess the situation, the girl he's been in love with.

He turns to see her crying into a hug from Ross, Adam unsurely rubbing her back in comfort, neither one of them certain on what to do. There's still so much left unsaid.

Once Ross takes notice of Matty's impatient gaze, he pats the girl's back, turning her in his grasp, trying not to feel bad about essentially handing her off to Matty, but at the moment, it seems like they need each other more than anyone needs Ross, so he does what he has to do. "Go to him, love," he mutters, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

Hesitantly, she approaches Matty, no idea of what is next to come.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Taglist: @indierockgirrl @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @milkluvr8 @americanangel

[fablesrose]

Ch 7 - The Fairy Godparents Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist 

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: Another crooked financial guy, but this time under house arrest. Helping his son into the spotlight must be the play here.

Words: 4768

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

Nate texted the group chat letting us know that he was meeting with a client and to meet for briefing. I stepped into his apartment to see that Eliot was already in the living room reading a magazine. I greeted him and sat on the far side of the couch, tucking my legs underneath me.

He greeted me with a nod, but nothing more. 

Hardison walked in and started showing Eliot a phone sized device that he said was actually a metal detector. He started explaining how it worked, but I didn’t understand much. It was clear that Eliot wasn’t listening.

“Are you even listening?” Hardison asked after stopping mid-spiel. 

Eliot looked up from his magazine, “yeah.”

“Well, what did I say?”

“You’re explaining how you’re still a virgin?”

I couldn’t stop the short laugh that escaped me. I noticed it cracked a smile out of Eliot before he turned back to his magazine. Hardison looked at me with betrayal.

“I’m sorry, Hardison, that’s super cool, but I don’t understand what you’re saying… and it was a little funny…”

“Woman-”

Nate walked in with Parker cutting off whatever he was going to rebuff with.

“Talking to clients, you’re supposed to sympathize,” Nate seemed to be explaining to her. 

“I told you not to take her,” Eliot said.

“Well, you were right. Where’s Sophie?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, we’re not waiting,” Nate said as he sat down, “let's go, let’s start.”

Hardison took over researching this mark as I was busy with a project. He told us all about Daniel Fowler, our mark. He posed as a private investor, but just stole people’s money, including our client, a small clinic set to shut down because of him. The whole firm was busted as a Ponzi scheme and the FBI froze all of his assets and put him on house arrest. 

“I’m talking corporate accounts, personal accounts, real estate holdings… anything on planet Earth with this dude’s name on it is on ice,” Hardison explained. 

“FBI’s very thorough, huh?” Eliot asked. 

“Isn’t this going to be a problem for us though?” I asked, “I mean, what are we gonna do if he’s this locked up?”

Hardison had a slight smirk on his face, “Wait for it…” he pointed at Parker. 

“What’d they miss?” she asked, humoring him. 

“Oh…” a couple of screens came up with a press of a button, “Twenty million dollars. Moved it off the books right before the warrants came down.”

“He knew the end was near and he was getting ready to bolt,” Nate said. “Tell me something, where was Fowler arrested?”

“Oh, in his apartment,” Hardison answered, “packing for his “business trip” to the Maldives.”

Sophie walked in then, but she didn’t look as chipper as she usually did. She didn’t say anything as she walked to the kitchen.

“You see, he’d need it light, portable, close at hand,” Nate thought out loud, “that twenty million is in his apartment.”

“Yeah, but y/n brought up a good point,” Eliot added, “This guy’s on house arrest, man. I mean, he’s practically living with the FBI.”

“The problem is not getting into the apartment,” Sophie interjected, “but getting them out.”

There was a moment of awkwards silence before Nate asked, “where were ya?”

“Oh. I was running an errand,” Sophie stuttered noncommittally. 

“Weren’t you with the boyfriend?” Parker asked innocently.

“Parker” I whispered with a pointed look.

She had the grace to look a little guilty.

“So what are the terms of his house arrest?” Sophie changed the subject. 

Hardison answered, “Fowler��s confined to his six million dollar penthouse overlooking the Charles River.”

“That’s a rough punishment, huh?” Eliot asked sarcastically. 

“The whole place is outfitted with 24/7 surveillance so the Feds can keep an eye on him.” Hardison pointed his remote at the screen, “now… we can too.”

The screen showed a feed of Fowler’s apartment with him lying on the couch. We all smiled at him when he continued.

“I piggybacked the wireless feed.”

“Still,” Sophie sat on the back of the couch behind me, “for us to get in and search the place, we got to get rid of Fowler.”

“Now there are three general exceptions for house arrest,” Nate starts. “There’s personal safety, death of a relative, and family events.”

“Personal safety? We could burn the apartment down,” Eliot suggests. 

Parker cheered and volunteered.

“Or death of a relative…” He continued.

Nate disregarded them, “Who is that?”

A kid and a woman crossed the screen.

“Oh, the kid. The kid is from her first marriage, Widmark.”

“I’m sorry what?” I asked him.

“Widmark?” Eliot emphasized.

“Rich people, man,” Hardison replied. 

“Can you punch in on that, please?” Nate asked.

Hardison turned up the volume of the screen so we could hear what was being said. We watched as the kid was yelled at for apparently losing a cell phone. The adults stormed off, leaving him alone in the living room. 

“Wow, okay. What do we have on the kid?” Nate asked.

Hardison described Widmark. There was nothing particularly exceptional about him, 10 years old, in the fifth grade, no extracurricular activities. The only thing interesting about him on record is that he was allergic to strawberries. 

“Judges give out day passes for family events,” Nate reiterated, “it’s one of the three things right? So, Fowler is going to ask for one, so he doesn’t miss out on his kid’s big debut.”

“Wait,” I said, “What is he debuting as?”

Nate thought for a moment, “yeah, I don’t know. But we’re gonna steal his school and find out.”

Hardison was in charge of getting rid of the current principal, which he did quite easily with a couple of plane tickets. Nate was to pose as the new headmaster, with Sophie and Eliot his head teachers of “mind und body.” The parents weren’t too happy at first when they found out, but they were soon pacified enough for them to get to work. Meanwhile, Parker and Hardison were securing an apartment in the same building as the Fowlers so they had easier access to the penthouse. 

I hung out in the headmaster’s office while Nate, Sophie, and Eliot spoke to the parents. 

“Hardison and Parker are all set, now all we gotta do is give Widmark a triumph worth a day pass,” Nate said, strolling in. 

“A triumph? In what?” Sophie asked, looking at his file, “I mean, in five years this kid hasn’t joined a club, he hasn’t played a sport…”

“I gotta be honest with ya, I don’t know how I feel about using the kid to get a mark,” Eliot commented. 

“We’re not using him. I mean, every kid is good at something,” Nate insisted. “We just gotta draw Widmark out, give him his moment to shine.”

“Oh, so, we’ll be like his fairy godparents,” Sophie concluded. 

“Exactly,” Nate said, “I mean, come one, look at this: cushy private school, no gunrunners, mob bosses, Interpol. This is a breeze!”

“Wait, you guys have dealt with all that before?” I asked, finally speaking up. 

Nate nodded at me, “We got one week before the clinic closes for good… Athletics, academics…” he pointed at me, “this should be a good job for you to learn with. I want you to shadow Eliot and Sophie, work on staying in character. Whatever character you choose.” He turned back to address us as a group, “let's go get Widmark the win, alright?”

I followed Eliot first as he had Widmark in his class. He introduced himself to the class before gesturing to me to do the same. 

“Hello everyone, you can call me Ms. Jenny. I’m going to be accompanying your class here and there for this upcoming week, let me know if you need anything.” I smiled at all of them, making a particular effort to make eye contact with Widmark. 

Eliot directed the class to grab fencing equipment and to put it on before turning to me with a bit of humor, “Ms. Jenny? A little simple… are you even playing a character?”

I stuck my tongue out at him, “I’m working on it. It’s easier to remember than your name Mr… blah blah blah.”

“It’s Mr. Brewer, it’s not that hard.” He smirked at me, “I thought you said you saw the fun of this in Nebraska?”

“I do! It's just…” I bit my lip, “It makes me nervous, too, okay? This is so new and… I’m not sure I know how to do all of this.”

His smirk softened to a smile, “That’s okay, this’ll be a good run for ya. You’ll get the hang of it, but first,” he handed me a fencing sword, “help me teach these guys how to fence.”

He walked away towards the kids, and I followed quickly after, “I don’t know how to do that either.”

Eliot gave a brief demonstration, with me being mostly a prop. It was then time for the kids to try. 

“Alright Widmark, get on the line, you’re up.”

Widmark looked around as if Eliot had not just asked him. 

“Widmark, come on,” I urged him. 

“Get on the line,” Eliot repeated, “Show ‘em what you got, man.”

Widmark went to stand on the line, but a taller boy tripped him. I went to help Widmark up from the floor. 

Eliot immediately jumped in, “Hey! Take your helmet off. What’s your name?” 

The boy complied, “Skylar Sanford.”

I immediately rolled my eyes at his tone.

“Skylar?” Eliot asked. After the boy affirmed he said, “Is that a boy’s name? Don’t do that again.”

He took Skylar and put him against Widmark on the mat. Widmark had to be directed to put his helmet on, but struggled and put it on backwards. 

“Oh, Widmark-” I tried to correct him as the kids started to laugh, but Eliot beat me to it.

“What are you doing?” Eliot asked him after telling the class not to laugh. “There’s girls here. You’re better than that. Turn your hat around.”

Once Widmark did as he was told, Eliot started the match. It did not last long. Skylar quickly overpowered him, the buzzer indicating a hit and point ringing in my ears. 

Strike one on helping Widmark. 

Next up was Sophie with a spelling bee to prep for the state spelling bee next week. She held a tryout for a competition on Friday for the schools best spellers, plus Widmark. It all seemed to be going well with the words clearly marked in Widmark’s favor. Unfortunately there was one girl that rose to the challenge. Sophie was determined to get her to break, but I could see that it was not happening easily, if at all. I finally had to take a break and stepped out, running into Eliot again. 

“What are you doing out here? Thought you were shadowing Sophie?” He asked me.

I leaned against the hallway wall, “I was, but she’s doing a spelling bee and there’s a girl in there spelling words I didn’t even know existed. It’s giving me a headache.”

Eliot sighed, “Another strike?”

I nodded, “Another strike.”

We just looked at each other for a minute causing me to remember something that I had been meaning to talk to him about, but we hadn’t been alone since after the previous job.

“Hey, uh,” I spoke up before he walked away, “I’ve been meaning to… I don’t know. It’s just, after the last job, I mentioned what you did for that kid, it seemed to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to apologize, I guess.”

He tilted his head at me before he responded, “Oh, uh, no you didn’t do anything wrong. I just wasn’t prepared. I didn’t think anyone heard about that…”

“I don’t think anyone else did, to be honest. I won’t bring stuff up like that again though if you don’t want me to.”

“No, not at all. I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t…” He trailed off, but smiled. “We’re good, sweetheart, don’t worry about it.”

The bell rang and kids started to flow out into the hallway. He nodded his head down the hallway signaling that he had to go and I waved him off. I went to join Sophie in the auditorium when I heard her talking with Widmark. 

“I try hard, all the time,” Widmark said, “but, no matter how much I want something, it never happens.”

“Oh sweetie,” Sophie replied, “What do you want?”

“I don’t know… I just,” Widmark frowned, “I want someone to like me. Does that get easier when you’re a grownup?” 

I shook my head no, just to myself when Sophie answered him.

“Um, no. I don’t think it does.”

“You’re nice,” Widmark said, “but weird.”

Sophie shewed him off to class and he walked by me, “bye Ms. Jenny.”

“Bye Widmark,” I smiled at him as he walked off. I looked at Sophie once he left, and sighed.

This may be harder than we thought. 

We met back up at Nate’s apartment this time, but I had snacks from mine, which I thought was needed in this situation. Hardison and Parker recounted their experience setting up equipment at the Fowler’s place. 

“Let me just, can I get this straight?” Nate started, pacing around my kitchen, “Ok, alright, you two, you couldn’t rig a gym class and a spelling bee.” He turned towards Hardison and Parker, “and you two, you ran into the only FBI agents on the planet that recognize you?” He turned towards me, “what did you do?”

I raised my hands, full of chips, “I’m just shadowing.”

“I gotta be honest with you,” Eliot said, “I think we broke the kid even more.”

“We are the worst fairy godparents in the world!” Sophie exclaimed, dropping her spoon in her cup.

“Listen, we’ve still got to get Fowler out of the apartment so we can get in.”

“Yeah, except now, when he leaves there’ll be somebody waiting to kill him.”

“Can’t we use that? Isn’t that personal safety or whatever?” I asked, my mouth full.

“No,” Nate replied.

“Man, one of his victims wants payback more than he wants to be paid back,” Hardison said. 

“Well, one of you two can identify the gunman, right?” Eliot asked. 

“Yeah, sure. He stopped and let me take a picture of him as I was chasing him.”

“You know what? I’ve been around little kids all day, I don’t need to come home and do all this crap.”

“I’ve been in this pink shirt and these tight plaid pants, these old Webster loafers, this girl walking on my back…” Hardison went on as Parker handed Eliot her sketch pad. 

“Is this the guy?” he asked, and I walked over to look at the drawing. 

She hummed an affirmative.

The drawing was very detailed showing the face of a man, dark hair, slightly sunken eyes, drawn with a pen. 

“See?” Eliot tossed the pad at Hardison.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Hardison remarked. 

“I thought everyone could do that,” Parker replied.

I shook my head, “No Parker, not everyone can do that, that’s some talent you have there.” 

She smiled at me proudly before Nate continued. 

“Okay, alright, keep an eye on him. In the meantime, if they think you’re real FBI, be real FBI. I mean, use it to case the apartment.”

“So, I’m out of this and I’m on FBI detail with Parker and Hardison then,” Eliot concluded. 

“Actually, no. I need you to be Coach Brewer.”

“There’s an armed gunman out there,” Eliot insisted, “you want me in the gym with kids named Skylar and Indigo?”

“Where did Coach Brewer go?” Nate raised the question.

“Shut up,” Sophie said, urging us to listen to the surveillance feed on the TVs. 

Widmark was singing to himself, and was doing a pretty good job. 

“The play’s the thing wherein I’ll catch the conscience of a king,” Sophie said, excitedly. I assumed she was quoting something, but I didn’t ask. 

We all looked at each other for a moment before Nate smiled, “Sophie, how long would it take you to stage a musical?”

“Six weeks,” she answered. 

“You have two days.”

I watched as the next day, Sophie lined up the kids, and instructed them to sing their science fair projects. When Widmark went, he wasn’t too bad, but his project was about mold, so kind of gross. Sophie encouraged him, and insisted he sing in the finale. 

I smiled at him from the auditorium seats, and he had a slight smile himself.

The parents were outraged that this kid, this child, was to be in the starring role when his father had done so much to all of the parents, ripping them off. Nate explained them away, saying it was based on merit, and that his father should have nothing to do with it. He was right of course, it angered me that he had to explain that at all. This poor kid.

“Could you just please try to maybe not make this so difficult?” Nate asked Sophie.

“I can’t take you seriously with that dead cat on your head” Sophie replied.

Nate looked at me before he sat down next to her, but I only shrugged in agreement, his hair was atrocious. 

“Eliot had trouble adjusting, alright, but he found a way to make his style work in this setting.”

I recalled the last class I watched him in, he had changed from private school style athletics to combat. He was enjoying it more than he let on.

“Look,” Sophie replied, “it’s the best I could manage under such short notice. The props are made, the kids have memorized their presentations, I’m just setting it to a bit of music.”

“Listen, I mean, let’s not forget why we’re here. Let’s not lose focus. The object is to get Fowler out of his apartment, not…”

“What, not Widmark, right? He’s just the bait.”

“Well that’s not fair.”

“You’re right Nate,” I cut in, “it’s not fair. It’s not fair to Widmark, this whole situation isn’t fair to him. The way people see him? His dad thinks he’s a loser, his mom sees him like a little baby, his classmates see him as the kid whose dad is the Grinch, who took everything. He…”

Sophie finished for me, “we just want people to see him as he really is.”

“He deserves that,” I added, “Everyone deserves that.”

The night of the musical was not going as smoothly as we had hoped. Hardison was going to be the one breaking into the apartment instead of Parker because of an FBI agent with a crush, and Widmark wasn’t on his musical game. I was helping direct kids to setting up, but I was getting nervous. It all came to a head when Sophie said she couldn’t find Widmark at all. I abandoned my post to help her look.

We finally found him in the bathroom, crying to himself. 

“Widmark, you can’t let them win,” Sophie told him, “you can’t show them they’re getting to you.”

Nate spoke through the comms, “Sophie, no. Just talk to him, don’t tell him what to do or who to be. Just talk.”

Sophie lost her American accent, “I’m sorry Widmark.”

“For what?” He asked. 

“For trying to con you into being brave. That’s what I do, I’m a bloody con artist. Look, I’m not very good at being honest, not even with my friends.”

Widmark finally came out of the stall and looked between us, “Do you have a lot of friends?”

“No,” we both responded.

I leaned against the sink and looked at him, “Can I tell you a secret Widmark?”

He nodded.

“When I was around your age, I was kind of like you, nobody really liked me, didn’t have any friends. You know who I was in school?”

He shook his head.

I looked at my feet before looking back at him, “I was the kid whose parents died, and that made me the weird one. Luckily that doesn’t mean anything anymore, and we have a few friends now.”

“I used to have friends,” Widmark said, “They don’t talk to me anymore, because of what my stepdad did.”

“That’s got nothing to do with you, you know that, don’t you?” Sophie asked him.

“Then why do they make fun of me?”

“Cause when they look at you, they see him. Just like they only saw my dead parents,” I responded.

“They’re not seeing you for who you really are,” Sophie responded.

Hardison and Parker were talking on comms, trying to get Hardison broken in and past the security, but I quickly tuned them out.

“Did you know I was an actress?” Sophie asked Widmark.

“No, are you good?” he asked.

She hummed, “Well, others don’t seem to think so.”

“Maybe they just can’t see you for who you are,” he concluded.

I kept quiet, thinking that I had my moment, she could have hers. 

“You know what they say about acting? They say it’s about telling the truth, about sharing a little part of yourself that people don’t normally see. But, if you don’t- if you don’t really know yourself, then they think you’re lying… I think that’s my problem.” 

I reached out and took her hand, comforting her for being vulnerable.

“I’ve been lying for so long that… I don’t even know what the truth is anymore.”

“I don’t want to lie to anybody,” Widmark said. 

I laughed a little bit, “No, you don’t Widmark.”

Sophie stood and approached him, “You don’t have to Widmark. What you need to do is you just have to go out there, and be Widmark. Just tell the truth, be who you really are. If you can do that, then I promise you, people will believe in you.”

“Just like we believe in you.” I smiled at him as Sophie and I both exited the bathroom. 

We rendezvoused with Eliot backstage. 

“Widmark okay?”

“Guess we’re about to find out,” Sophie answered. 

The lights dimmed in the auditorium, signaling the show was about to start. Hardison told us on comms that the safe he cracked was empty, cleaned out, giving us a problem, where was the money?

“Hate to tell you this, but that ain’t our biggest problem right now,” Eliot replied.

I turned to him, “What do you mean?”

He pulled me closer to where he was standing and subtly pointed to where he was looking. Above the auditorium stood a man who looked awfully like the drawing Parker made. 

“We got company,” Eliot said. “How’d he know Fowler was gonna be here? Only ones who knew were us and the FBI.”

“Yeah, and Fowler himself,” Nate said. “Maybe we were wrong, maybe Fowler isn’t the target.”

“Then who?” Parker asked, then had to recover as she was still technically talking to the FBI agent.

“His FBI handlers. Fowler arranged to have them killed. He’s about to run,” Nate concluded.

“No man,” Hardison rebuffed, “there’s no way he could arrange that. He’s under house arrest. No phone calls, no internet, they’re even reading his mail. How could he arrange a hitman?”

“Let’s ask him,” Eliot answered. He was tracking his movements in the rafters, and pointed me over to Sophie to be a bit out of the way which I obliged. 

“Feds confiscated his cell phone,” Hardison said, “They didn’t take Widmarks.”

“Really?” I asked, “What a jerk, he yelled at Widmark for losing that… Can Eliot punch Fowler when this is over? Can I?”

“No,” Nate replied. 

“Maybe,” Eliot responded.

“Fowler’s getaway explains the empty safe,” Nate continued, ignoring us, “whatever cash he had on him, he took with him. And… I think I know where to look.”

“Wait,” Parker interjected, “Didn’t you search Fowler before he left?” She asked the agent.

“Of course, nothing on him except for that camera and some tapes.”

“Yeah, well there’s something in that bag, or on those tapes,” Nate insisted. “Sophie, y/n, can you swipe it?”

Sophie was on stage, “yes, I’m a little bit busy here.”

“You want me to do what?” I asked, I was still backstage where it was loud and I couldn’t believe what he was asking me, “I’m making my way to you.”

“Has anybody seen Widmark?” Sophie asked. 

“Sophie, the job’s over,” Nate said. “What happens from here on is not our concern. We have other priorities”

“No way, no, no. The clinic isn’t the only victim here, I didn’t prop up this boy, just to see him fail. No way. I’m not letting that happen.”

Eliot engaged with the hitman and I tried to ignore the commotion in my ear. 

“Uh, Nate?” Hardison said, “This phone has sent a bunch of text messages in the last forty-eight hours to some guy named Skylar.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Skylar’s a kid at this school.”

“Why would Fowler be texting a middle schooler?”

I made my way around the auditorium and stood beside Nate, “what do you want me to do?”

He held his hand up, “Nothing now.” He was looking in the audience, specifically at Skylar’s dad, “he wasn’t texting Skylar, he was texting Skylar’s dad.”

I watched as the man in question walked up towards the stage with a camera. He stumbled and picked up the camera bag next to Fowler, dropping his own. 

“Mark Sanford’s an accomplice,” Nate said, “He set up the gunman. He just traded bags with Fowler.”

Hardison wasn’t having it, “No, man. Why would Sanford help Fowler? Isn’t he one of the guys who invested with him?”

I heard Widmark over the comms, “sorry I’m late.”

Sophie responded before putting him on stage, “no, no, you’re right on time.”

Eliot was still fighting the gunman backstage of which Sophie wasn’t happy about.

“Keep it off the stage, you’re gonna ruin his big finale!”

I laughed to myself as I could almost hear Eliot’s eyeroll. 

Nate turned to me after Widmark finished his song, of which he did quite well in, and everyone was distracted by the standing ovation, “Wait here.” He walked down the aisle and grabbed the bag by Fowler with the hook of his cane before returning to me. 

We turned the corner before opening the bag.

“Ah,” Nate said, looking inside, “Hardison, are you near your computer? I need you to check a name for me.”

“Go ahead.”

“Doug Fineman” Nate said as he opened up a passport from the bag, it had Fowler’s face, but clearly not his name. “Sanford is providing Fowler with a new identity, and a new life waiting for him in…”

I looked over his shoulder, “Bogota?”

Eliot and Sophie grabbed Sanford and took the bag that was previously Fowler’s. Sophie seemed to find something she liked in it and placed it in a tape player, playing it through the entire auditorium.

Out came Sanford’s voice, “I’m just saying you can’t make the returns too consistent. Ten percent growth every year, no matter what the market does? The SEC is going to ask questions.”

Then Fowler replied on tape, “Let me worry about the SEC work.”

“But we have to be careful.”

“My job is to buy off the regulators, your job is to bring in new money. Now this whole thing goes off the rails when you stop doing your job!”

By now Fowler was trying to run through the crowd away from the FBI handlers in the audience. I took the opportunity to step in front of him with my foot outstretched a bit further than necessary, effectively tripping him.

“Oh, Mr. Fowler I’m so sorry,” I apologized with an overt sweetness as the agent handcuffed him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the agent asked him.

Nate approached from behind me with the bag, offering it to the agent, “ja, ja… He dropped this. All of this. I thought his name was Fowler. I don’t know.” 

Once the agent took it Nate shrugged and took my arm guiding me away with the illusion of me helping him walk along with his cane. 

It sounded like backstage was taken care of with Sandford as the other agent arrested him. The agent made an attempt at flirting with Parker again while doing so, which made me smile. He was cute, I’d give him that, but the things he doesn’t know, especially about Parker, and a certain hacker…

The clinic stayed open, to everyone’s pleasure. I heard that Fowler’s wife and Widmark even worked there. Hopefully he had a better life ahead of him.

Tags: @isoldeahlstrom @kniselle

[callmewrinkles3]

Charlie

December 2022

Em really didn’t want to be out. She was constantly tired and still felt stressed, but Blake insisted. Her cast was off and she’d finished physical therapy so “cmon Timmy, the two of you are coming out for dinner and drinks.”

So she did what he told her and got dressed, the three of them sitting at a table and chatting. It was good food and relaxing and she actually enjoyed herself. Dan spotted where Blake’s attention was being drawn, a woman standing at the bar turning down a guy. She’d glanced over at Blake a few times but kept looking away.

“Have a crush, Blake?” He asked and their friend shook his head and pushed his glasses up.

“She’s cute. But you know me.” Em looked at him and stood while pointing at their glasses.

“Same again?”

“Yeah, please.”

Going up for drinks was just the first excuse that Em could find to go up to the bar and stand beside the pretty brunette Blake kept making eyes at. She’d deal with him being annoyed at her later, her friend deserved some happiness for once. As much as he tried to hide it she could hear the sadness when he said “you know me”. He’d put his personal life on the back burner for them.

It wasn’t that Blake didn’t want to meet anyone and settle down and be happy, but he didn’t have time. And it was entirely because of her and Dan. The thin walls between her old apartment and his worked both ways and she knew he’d stopped bringing anyone home over lockdown and never did again. Between how 2021 started, the mess of that year and how it ended, and the hell that had been 2022 he didn’t stand a chance. Instead he kept an eye on them, half brother, half parent, all Blake.

Officially his job was to be Dan’s manager but after everything he became a professional third wheel to make sure they were ok. He’d spent the last year keeping his barely functioning best friends going and ignored his own happiness. So for once Em - helped by the g&ts she’d drank already - was ignoring how shy she could be and telling the girl that Blake was interested if she was too. Em couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen Blake’s eyes light up at seeing someone. It’d be worth his annoyance to make him happy. He’d put her happiness first, it was her turn to do that for him.

“Can I get a gin and tonic, a Jack and Coke, and another pint please? And whatever her next drink is too? Thanks so much.” Em pointed to the girl beside her as she ordered once she’d stepped into a free spot before turning and holding her hand out. “Hey, I’m Em.”

She saw the surprise on the woman’s face the second Em introduced herself. If someone ever did that to Em in a bar one night she’d probably run away, and definitely run back to Dan, but the woman didn’t. She had skinny jeans and converse on with a tank top and a flannel shirt over it. The woman stood there with her nearly empty glass for a second before speaking.”

“Hi. I’m Charlotte. Can I help you?”

“This sounds insane, but yeah, you can. I mean not exactly me but my friend. See the cute one over there with glasses? His name is Blake. He thinks you’re cute.” Charlotte glanced over and back carefully, but Em saw the “oh fuck” expression on Blake’s face.

“He does?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about his face, he’s mad at me for telling you because he wasn’t going to say anything. But I promise, he’s a sunshine. The sweetest man in the universe after my husband. So I figured if you think he’s cute you can come sit with us and say hi. And if you don’t that’s fine, enjoy the drink. We won’t bother you.”

“You actually want me to say hi to someone at Daniel Ricciardo’s table? Really?”

“Sometimes I forget my h-boyfriend is a celebrity. But seriously, don’t think of him like that. Dan’s a regular guy, and Blake’s even more normal. So if you feel like it come say hi?” The drinks were out down beside her and Em tapped her card on the machine to pay. “I haven’t touched your drink, it’s all yours. It was really nice to talk to you, Charlotte.”

Em walked away from the bar barely balancing the three glasses in her hands, dropping them down on the table in front of her two favourite men barely spilling a drop. Her favourite part about getting back was how their jaws dropped slightly. She was never the one who did those things. She was the introvert, the one who hated talking to people. Especially talking to strangers. But three gin and tonics and a margarita meant she wasn’t thinking about how uncomfortable it was to talk to people. All she was thinking about was Blake being happy, even if it was just for one night.

“What did you just do?” Blake asked, staring at her as if she was an alien and not one of his best friends and his adopted sister.

“You mean to say “thank you”, right Blakey?”

“Where’s my sweet baby girl and what have you done with her?” Dan joked, trying to keep it together and not burst out laughing at what his wife had done.

“What did you tell her?” Blake sounded frantic so Em took pity on him.

“That my very sweet, handsome bestie thinks she’s cute. And then I paid for her drink and told her to come say hi if she thinks you’re cute too. She’d just said no to that other guy and I saw her checking you out, so I think she’ll come over. You’re welcome in advance.” Em took a sip of her drink. “When you get married I get dibs on maid of honour duties and to be godmother for your first child.” She shrugged and scooted closer into Dan. It was the least her thing she had ever done, but she owed it to Blake.

“You’re never gonna drink again. Ever.” She wanted to laugh as she watched Blake blush even harder, but she didn’t want to make things worse. Instead she smiled and snuggled into Dan as he wrapped an arm around her. “Seriously. I’m never letting you drink again.

“And you’ve never seen her when she starts drinking rose. That’s when she really says the weird stuff.”

“Dan!”

“You know it’s true!”

“Weirdos,” Blake murmured under his breath and Em could see how he was beginning to regret not only coming up with the idea to go out that night, but for Em to start drinking again after a few months off alcohol.

“I might be a weirdo, but I’ll have you know Charlotte’s looking over here.” She could see how Charlotte was trying to act normal while looking at their table and checking out their friend. It was a small smile half hidden behind a glass that she was trying to finish for some extra courage. It was the table where hometown hero Daniel Ricciardo was sitting with his girl and his best friend.

“She told you her name and you weren’t even going to tell me? Seriously, Timmy?”

“Oops?”

“Sometimes you’re so annoy-shit she’s coming over.”

If Blake’s cheeks were read before, his entire face may as well have been an apple. Em couldn’t remember seeing him so nervous I’m all the years she’d known him. He was always the composed one, especially at work, so seeing him blushing like a school kid with his first crush was the most adorable thing in the world.

“Hey, Charlotte, you joined us!” Em welcomed her happily, gesturing to the free seat beside Blake when she saw her standing next to their table.

“Is that alright?”

“I invited you over for a reason, right?” She smiled and gave a wink to make the other woman feel welcome and able to relax, even if for a moment. “Introductions, this is my h-boyfriend, Dan. Ignore if he tries to impress you and be fancy.”

“Nice to meet you, don’t believe a word Em says about me.” Dan held his hand out to shake like the polite man he was.

“And this is my best friend, Blake Friend. Yes it’s his actual name, and yes I tell him regularly it’s ridiculous. Blakey, this is Charlotte.”

“Hi. Call me Charlie, Charlotte is for strangers or when my parents want to ask something. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hey Charlie, it’s nice to meet you too.” Blake smiled and offered his hand for her to grab like Dan had, but it was nothing like when Dan introduced himself to Charlie. Em could nearly see the sparks. This was the night she’d met Dan for her best friend and this new girl, she knew it.

“I need some air. Come out with me, Love?” She whispered to Dan and grabbed his hand to give the other two some privacy.

“What’s that for?” He asked when they got to a dark corner across the bar.

“Give them some privacy.” She leaned against Dan and gave him a kiss, hoping that it was going as well as it looked for the two.

[phoomwhoosh]

Okay, this is basically just me sharing most of my thoughts about Terry and Daniel in season 5 and it’s a long one so I’ll put it under a cut.

I cannot get over Terry ambushing Daniel in Raymond’s apartment. The very second Daniel told Chozen that he “had to apologize to Raymond,” I knew something awful was about to happen to him because it directly mirrored what he told Mr. Miyagi before the ambush in the third movie.

But, before I go into that, I want to talk more about Terry and Daniel up to that point. Like, I really loved the way Terry “gave” Daniel chances to back-out of things even though he definitely knew Daniel wouldn’t take them.

Terry appearing in the sauna while Daniel was in there? I called that when I saw that scene in the trailer months ago and it DELIVERED so well. Absolutely terrifying moment for Daniel and his face in that scene was so devastating. Like, Terry really chose Daniel’s most vulnerable moment: totally not expecting him and finally starting to relax a hair. (Also, most likely nude. Just saying.)

Him goading Daniel at the charity event and making him embarrass himself and Amanda? Terry making Daniel seem like the crazy one, like he was the real bad guy? Terry kept poking at Daniel over and over again and anyone who saw never would’ve guessed at what was happening because Terry was smiling the entire time. Hell, he even seemed like he was making a nice little joke about the bonsai trees even as he was talking about how he was going to turn them into mulch. (Legit, the man HAS to grin after every time he’s successfully fucked with Daniel.) He really set-up Daniel, especially by introducing him as an “old friend.” The fuckin’ audacity of that man! Jesus Christ, Daniel’s reaction to that and Amanda immediately comforting him even though she had no idea what was really happening...

Terry definitely knew that Daniel didn’t tell Amanda about him beyond surface-level stuff and I have to wonder how he feels about that.

I totally understand why Amanda didn’t believe Daniel and thought he was just bringing-up another old rivalry for no reason. We have to remember that Daniel has very obviously never told her exactly what Terry Silver did to him. After Jessica tells her everything, I think she understood WHY Daniel didn’t tell her. That and, from her perspective, it just looked like Daniel was being paranoid for no reason, especially with how kindly Terry greets them at the charity event and with how Terry actually told that one lady what a great person Amanda was. You can see Amanda’s delight in the background as Terry goads Daniel into shoving him. He let Daniel dig his own grave so he could put him into it. (Do not judge me for any shallow grave references in any of my future fics. XD)

Also, just saying, do you think Daniel suspected that Terry was stalking him? Because he was 100% doing that. Really glad they didn’t show it actually happening (like scenes of Terry skulking around before approaching Daniel). The implication of the stalking is so much scarier and really leaves you wondering when Terry would appear behind Daniel or into a scene with him.

Of course, if Daniel suspected it, he couldn’t say anything because he had no proof and Amanda already wasn’t listening to him about how dangerous Terry was. Telling her about the sauna thing or about encountering him in the country club wouldn’t have worked. Like, she probably wouldn’t have believed the sauna bit because what the fuck and she might’ve been like, “Daniel, he’s super rich, why wouldn’t he be at the country club? Also, didn’t he buy you drinks?” Like, Terry made Daniel look like he was crazy to everyone around them and I just CANNOT.

Now, to the ambush in the apartment. GOD, the sound I made when Terry appeared behind him. How quickly Daniel turned around to face him and the fearful look he gives, the way he jerks back slightly at the sight of him. The other sound I made when Terry side-stepped into his path when Daniel tried to leave. Him forcing Daniel into a fight once again…

I have rewatched that fight scene at least a dozen times over and let me tell you: it truly amazes me how much Terry actually held-back and, yes, I do believe that was him holding back. He could have very, very easily broken Daniel’s arm instead of dislocating his shoulder. He could’ve gone for Daniel’s left knee and fucked it up real good. But instead he let Daniel come at him, even let Daniel get some hits in although some of those were definitely unavoidable. He was ENTHRALLED by their fight. The sound I made when he stepped on Daniel (dear god, that bit). He only held-back enough to not totally maim or kill Daniel and that was an entirely calculated move on his part.

Like, him stepping on Daniel while saying, “Don’t look at this as an act of mercy. On the contrary, I want you alive and well for what’s about to happen. Well, alive, at least. Because the real pain is about to begin.” That call-back to the third movie!!!!! Him just leaving Daniel lying there!!!! I wish we could’ve seen how Daniel got out of there. I read somewhere that one of the writers said Chozen found him but that the episode was already long. Honestly, time dedicated to certain other things could’ve been taken away so we could’ve seen Chozen find him.

Also loved this line: “You opened the door and let me just waltz right in.” The gleeful way in which he said it…just, WOW. All of his lines during that scene were glorious.

But here’s my other thing, here’s my thing about that fight scene. Daniel striking first and Terry saying, “That’s it, LaRusso! That’s the Cobra Kai student I remember!” And then, after he locked Daniel’s arms down, him saying, “But you never really had the strength, did you?” And then that BRUTAL headbutt?! Like, Terry showed Daniel just how weak he really was and how much stronger he was than him. Daniel wouldn’t have been able to free his arms if Terry hadn’t headbutted him. He could’ve kept Daniel like that, could’ve waited to see if Daniel would break free eventually but I think he wanted to see what else Daniel had in him before he ended the fight. I feel like the fight lasted as long as it did because Terry wanted it to.

“I was ready to let this go and you just kept getting in my way!” And then the face grab, the FACE GRAB, HIS WHOLE HAND WENT OVER DANIEL’S FACE and the SOUND Daniel made when that happened! Then he just THREW Daniel like he was nothing! “You bit-off more than you could chew and, now that the writing’s on the wall, you wanna surrender?! No, no, no, we are way past the time for white flags, Danny boy.” The WAY he says that! Side note: so glad Daniel got thrown a few times this season AND got to say “fuck” more than once.

Terry making Daniel punch the wall pillar thing. The quote echoing “What’re you gonna do about it?” was absolutely haunting. That question from the past seeming to both disturb and rally Daniel? His clearly mixed feelings that distracted him enough for Terry to totally take him down?! THE KICK TO THE HEAD? Like, Terry looked so damned PLEASED to see the warring emotions on Daniel’s face as the looked at his bloodied fists.

Can I just say? Daniel being so SMALL compared to Terry. Not just in, like, height but also just the fact that Terry can put his entire hand over his face. Terry can hold him down with one giant foot so easily. Terry could’ve done so much more damage, so much worse. And Daniel having to live with that knowledge? Like, I totally get why he was ready to give-up the fight. I get it. I understand. He was terrified. He was alone and made to feel so small and weak and then he gets knocked out?! Do you think he thought he’d wake up with someone who cares about him nearby? Do you think he thought he might wake up and see Terry still standing over him? Do you think he DID wake up and think that at first until he got a good look at who was really there?

The other thing is, while Terry literally gave him no other choice but to fight or “stand there and get his ass kicked,” Daniel might still feel some amount of guilt for striking first and going against what he was taught, especially after that barb: “That’s the Cobra Kai student I remember!” Like, Daniel has spent most of this show torn between fully and totally honoring Mr. Miyagi’s teachings and suppressing the part of himself that enjoyed Terry’s training methods. (Because he DID enjoy himself, especially after he broke through the wooden dummy. Gestures to this post I made ages ago about his training with Terry.)

In being so understandably hellbent on honoring Miyagi’s karate, he forgot what Mr. Miyagi said about finding his OWN karate. But then losing Mr. Miyagi clearly fucked him up real bad. It put him off-balance and he clearly never talked to anyone about it. (He almost certainly talked to Amanda but that doesn’t make the grief go away completely.)

I mean, Mr. Miyagi protected him for all of that time. He felt safe with him, especially after watching him kick Terry and Kreese’s asses without taking a single hit. To lose that protection? To lose the one person who fully understood what he went through? God, it hurts to think about.

Anyway, my point is, Daniel’s own style of karate closely mimicked Mr. Miyagi’s for so long that he forgot about finding his own style and was never really told, “It’s okay if some of what you learned from Terry stuck with you.” So, he’d certainly feel some amount of guilt after his first initial fight with Terry. Also, he was clearly terrified both during and after that fight because he felt so alone and knew it was true. It’s why he was so willing to throw in the towel and fully give-up. Forget not losing to fear, he might as well let it win. However, once he was shown that he wasn’t alone, he was able to push past his fear. And watching him beat Terry in the finale? That was the most glorious thing ever. Yes, yes, violence was heavy in this season but honestly? Daniel deserved to get to beat Terry, especially while using things he learned from Mr. Miyagi, Chozen, AND Johnny. Also, using “that crane crap” to completely take Terry out. I mean, he certainly ate those fuckin’ words, eh?

[gemini-sensei]

Teen-Moms!Sam x Chubby!Reader Headcanons

Fem!Reader ○ implied girlcock!Sam ○ unedited ○ mostly fluff, a pinch of angst

I'm always up for doing more of this or anything like it. I love it, so feel free to request domestic/baby stuff lol.

● Sam is purely smitten by Reader and their little baby. Just absolutely in love with her little family, wants to hold them all the time.

● She's always close by, smiling down at their little one, keeping an extra pacifier or blanket on her. She's not kidding around, she is going to have an extra, mini diaper bag with her just in case they're missing something in their main bag. She's overly prepared but it's sweet.

● her parents are so supportive. They were tentative at first because teenager parenthood isn't easy, but they're so in love with Reader and the baby. Oh God, Daniel adores his grandchild. If he's holding that child, he'll be hard pressed to let them go and time soon. He's kind of obsessed with them; he cried when they were born. Sam's so embarrassed by him 😅 he's unashamed.

● family naps where Baby LaRusso is asleep between their moms. When baby sleeps, so do they. Sam is kind of sleeping with one eye open just in case their little one wakes up and gets fussy. Also loves snuggle piles.

● the most protective mama ever. If anyone even looks at her girlfriend the wrong way, she's getting mean. Sam does not play when people at their school want to be dumb. She may be short, but we all know she has the power and when it comes to her family, the offender better get ready to have their shit rocked because she's not going to hold back.

● Speaking of school, she's trying so hard to keep up 😞 poor thing is more focused on her baby mama and baby to worry about school work. She'll help Reader with school stuff before doing her own work. She's reading to their baby or watching over them while Reader does work. It's a mess and she says she's fine, but she's not, especially in the early months with a newborn. Her parents eventually step in to help get her back on track, but it takes some time for her to admit she needs the help.

● The first few months are hard. It's a lot of screaming and crying and late nights. Sam and Reader knew it was going to be hard, but it's so much more than they had mentally prepared themselves for. Reader has moved in with the LaRusso's so Baby LaRusso can have both their moms close, and in hopes it will help them acclimate to this new way of life. It does, it just takes time.

● Days were they have to take Baby LaRusso to school with them because they couldn't get a babysitter, their friends are right there with them. Just like Sam will not tolerate people being shitty to them about being teen moms, their friends don't accept that either. Especially Miguel and Yasmine (I firmly believe she can low key destroy a person emotionally and will not hesitate). No one is going to say anything sideways about Sam and Reader, and if anyone actually has the balls for it, they're in for a ride.

● Sam will still take Reader on dates, they just bring their little one with them. They won't be super long dates, though; it'll be trips to the ice cream shop or a walk through the park, maybe they'll sit and have a little picnic. Most of the time, it devolves into playing with Baby LaRusso or showing them something new. Art museum? Yep and they show their baby all the wonderful art. Aquarium date? Baby is strapped to Sam's chest the whole time and she's holding Reader's hand lovingly. There are time where Daniel and Amanda will take their grandbaby for the evening, but for the most part Sam loves having them be apart of their dates. Sometimes it's just better that way.

● Sam is apart of the Tiny Gi Club. It's a club of karate kids that will absolutely buy a tiny karate gi for their babies to wear. Hawk is also apart of this club. Sam has so many pictures of Baby LaRusso in a tiny gi. She swears that she's not like her dad and that she won't teach the baby karate unless they want to learn it, but Sam is so much like her dad just for doing this. It's funny because she doesn't see it and always denies it.

[saturrnss]

—-HOBIE’S CANON EVENT (headcanon)—-

Warnings: violent death, daddy issues, mentions of police brutality and underaged drinking, mentions of police corruption

A/n: I’m pulling this straight out of my ass cheeks so do with that what you will. And also I know London banned guns but I’m the writer so I can do anything

😁

.hobie never likes to talk about his canon event, only Miguel and Gwen know about it, and he will literally kill anyone who tries to bring it up.

•••

Lieutenant James Campbell was the worst cop on the London police force.

He was mean, cruel and nasty.

So many innocent people went to jail for a long time because of him and so many abusers and Murderers got out because their lawyers paid him.

He didn’t care for any of the citizens, he was so bad that it was the start of hobie’s long term hatred for cops

But some how, someway. His father- Officer Daniel brown was friends with him.

“I’ve known him since kindergarten, he's not be that bad”

His father used to say whenever hobie tried to bring his cruelty up or make side eye him when he was around.

Hobie never understood it. “How could you let that pig around here!?” “Not even turn ‘em in?!” He thought to himself.

One day, a couple of months after he got bit, he got into an argument which he started after he cussed James out which made him storm off.

“I can believe you defend that fucking clown!!” He yelled. “Clam down“ his father softly but sternly replied with. “I’m not gonna calm down! You willingly jerk those guys off like they’re gonna see you any differently!’’

“I don’t know those people that you hang out with, but I can see the number they did on you” Daniel says, fixing his tie at the kitchen counter and putting his police hat on.

“Don’t bring them into this!’’ He said being even more enraged at the fact that he was basically being ignored.

His father stepped away from the counter and went toward the door of the apartment, but hobie still wasn’t gonna let it go.

“No wonder mom left you, I wouldn’t wanna be with such a cunt either.”

He stopped in his tracks.

“….what did you say?” Daniel said without moving a muscle.

And before hobie could repeat it again his father jumped at him from across the room, forcing him against the wall by his shirt.

“Speak on her again in that way! Speak!!!” He yelled right in his face, spit getting all over.

And for the first time, he didn’t comply.

He would never admit it, but that was the first time, in years, that he felt like he pushed-too far.

His father dropped him and walked away from him, sucking his anger back into him and straightening himself up.

The sheer fear, that hobie felt a few moments ago is a feeling that he would never feel again in his lifetime.

He dad takes a deep breath. “I never wanted to be a cop.” Hobie looks up, confused as to what his father was saying.

“When I was younger me and my mates used to get into a lot of trouble with them,” he says. "but as I grew up, I realized that making a difference isn't just running around, high and confused, it’s about working inside the system. It might not look like it but I have to be very, careful with the power I have now."

He gets his jacket. "One less racist cop at a time." he stops again. "I'm not mad at you, Hobart. You're a young black trying to figure it all out," "but there's just some ways you go about it."

He opens the door and looks back one final time.

"I love you."

Hobie doesn't say anything.

He tries to wait for a couple of seconds, hobie usually breaks the silence with a response but this time he doesn't.

".....I just hope you know that."

He leaves.

And hobie is left there, silent.

•••

Later that night, he got shit-faced with his mates Pic and Scabs at this random punk bar they found. The screeching sound of guitars and the audience screaming was so loud that you could barely hear yourself think.

The smell was awful too but you got used to it after a while.

He stumbled out of the place after a couple of hours and puked into the nearest trash can he could find. Everything was so fuzzy, the longest he could go walking in a straight line was a few seconds at most.

But then, while he was trying to find some essence of soberness, blinking red and blue emergency trucks dart passed him on the street- police cars follow.

He usually wouldn't care about things like that but something in his mind was telling him.

"Follow''

So he did.

Part of him still wishes he never listened.

He didn’t really need to run that far since the scene was happening a couple feet away from him. When he got there it was so many people in front of him but it didn’t bother him that much since he was tall as hell.

The body was already covered so he only saw the blood continuing to leak out of it but it was already enough to make his stomach drop.

Something about it was -off- to him, so he pushed through the crowd, and lifted the cover.

And there it was.

His dad laying face first on the ground, multiple stab wounds to his head, brain matter splattered. Hobie was frozen, his face was like stone, he tried to hold back his tears but before he knew it they were filling his eyes and rolling down his cheeks, making his vision blurry even more-so.

“Sir.” A random policeman says, he doesn’t hear. “Sir,” he snaps his fingers in hobie’s face, this time the punk notices him but he just doesn’t care.

“Sir I’m gonna have to ask you to leav-“ the officer says and starts to put his hand on hobie’s shoulder but he instinctively pushes him away. Sooner or later more cops circle around him as he refuses to move away from the body. But before a fight could break out, voice comes out from behind them.

“He’s with me.” The officers stop and stand up straight to hobie’s confusion. He turned around to see the devil himself- lieutenant James, in all his prick-ish glory.

“I think you all should leave.” He says, forcing the officers to leave you alone, still side eyeing the punk while walking away.

For a short while there was silence, just a moment of taking in what was now reality, then James decided to break the ice. “..Sorry..son” he puts his hand on his back which makes both of them cringe to the heaviest degree.

They watch the paramedics put his body on a stretcher and lift him up onto the back of the ambulance but even that wasn’t an emotional moment due to thick air of tension created.

He runs off to get inside the vehicle before they close the door, escaping the awkwardness and into an equally dreadful but weirdly calming environment.

The ride to the hospital felt like an eternity, all he could do was hold his dad’s hand, watching the paramedics trying to save a lost cause.

They got to the Emergency room and rolled the officer away, leaving hobie there, alone, with only himself to comfort.

Later, while hobie was sitting in a waiting chair, trying to distract himself with whatever crappy American sitcom they aired on late night television, a doctor in a long white coat and round glasses approached him.

“You must be Officer Brown’s son.” The doctor says “what of it?” Hobie tries to say in his usual dismissive tone but this time, he can’t bring himself to commit fully.

“…..he was too far gone.” Hobie closes his eyes and sighs, he thought he mentally prepared for it but hearing someone say it was like it cemented itself into reality.

“If you would like,” the doctor said with pity in their voice. “You could come to the room to have one last moment with him.” He hesitated at first but then picked himself up walked to the room with the doctor.

When he entered the room it was a cold and sterile atmosphere, felt like one of those liminal spaces. The colors of the room were almost sickly, everything about it wasn’t right, the only thing that grounded it in reality was the body laying flat in the middle of the room.

The doctor quietly excused themself out of the room and shut the door. Hobie walked to the side of the body and practically just dropped on his father- and cried.

Cried hard. It almost felt like he was a 5 year old again, sitting on his dad’s lap wailing because he broke his arm, but this time he doesn’t feel a warm embrace, the reassurance and comfort of a parental figure.

All he feels is just a cold hand. Lifelessness.

No one to tell him it was gonna be all okay.

Nothing was there anymore.

He barley even remembers the funeral, all he can recount is James, his supposed “best friend” looking bored and laughing up a storm with people.

The case for his dad closed after about 3 months no matter how hard Hobie fought for it to say open.

He couldn’t keep up with rent so he got evicted.

The only option was to stay with his absent mom or James, and no way in hell was that happening.

He found an abandoned warehouse and decorated it to his liking. It’s not like he was depressed or anything but everything just went- numb for a little while.

On rare occasions he felt emotion, but it went away after a few seconds.

Life felt more like a really bad fever dream now.

If you could even call it a dream.

•••

Months after that, he was sleeping on a friend’s couch when the friend, Rob frantically woke him.

“Wake the fuck up Hobbs!!” Rob quietly yells in a panic. “What?!” He says, sitting up dazed. Rob paces back and forth.

"Scabs got merked!!" hobie's mind didn't register it at first. “…huh?" “Scab’s is dead mate!” It still doesn’t compute. “….what?” He says in an uncharacteristically dumbfounded tone. “Do I have to spell it out for you dumbass he is not with us anymore!!”

Then when it finally clicks, the only words he can muster out is

“....who killed him?" he asks but Rob didn't hear it, still pacing and talking to himself. It took hobie to get up and grab Rob by his jacket for him to finally get a straight answer."

"Who. Killed. Him?" He says slowly. "That cunt lieutenant said he had drugs on him when he doesn't even drink. One thing lead to another and he got shot."

His face drops.

At first, he was even more lost, and confused. He sat back down and put his hand into his palms. Then, it was like someone poured boiling water one him to wake up.

For the first time, in a long time, an emotion finally stuck with him.

Rage.

Blind. Rage.

He quickly went to get his guitar and his suit and quickly went toward the door. “Where yo-” hobie had already shut the door before his friend could finish the question.

He changed on the rooftop of the building and swung into the night.

He didn’t even know where that cunt was, all he knew was that he had to do something. Something that would make him feel the pain and numbness that he felt.

And the only way he knew how to do that was by Revenge.

He finally got to the lieutenant’s house- a modest, 2-bedroom house. He didn't have any children, he got divorced rather quickly before he could.

He got in through the window. It was pitch black and he couldn't feel anyone in the house so he walked up to the front door and waited.

He saw certificates and police gear all over the wall along with pictures of him on duty and all he could feel was disgust.

He could feel the sweat dripping down his face in his mask, palms sore from holding the guitar. His suit only made him feel claustrophobic but he didn’t care.

He heard a car pull up. His eyes immediately shot to the window, seeing a black Volkswagen Beetle parked in the driveway. He looks straight at the door, feeling him get out of the car and inch closer and closer to the door.

His heart was beating through his chest and was mentally psyching himself up. The sound of keys jingling just outside the door made him close his eyes.

“Once I deal with him,” he thought. “It will be all over with.”

The doorknob turned and he saw him. From that point on, It was like an out-of-body experience. He didn’t feel like himself- Something came over him.

Maybe it was a greater force than himself, maybe it was all the grief he somehow suppressed it was a mystery.

He doesn’t remember much of the fight, only the fact that James had a broken nose and was losing severely. But when he “got back” to his body, the scene was a horror show.

Blood was all over him, his guitar was broken and James' head looked like it had been split in two. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together.

It was so bad that two teeth were stuck in the bottom of his guitar. He quickly left the scene after he heard a car coming. He got on the roof of Rob’s flat and hid his blood soaked suit and guitar.

He knew he couldn’t leave it there for long or else it would stain. He opened the door to the apartment and immediately went to take a shower, and to be honest, he felt immensely better.

He was mostly glad that nobody would be bothered by him anymore, that there was one less burden on earth, but he couldn’t brush off the fact that something was watching him- Something familiar.

It was the most publicized murder case in the city. The brutality of it all intrigued people the most. “What could have the heroic police officer James Campbell, done to have deserved this fate?”

It made him sick, the blatant rewriting of history. Especially the fact that the authority force had so much more emotion for him than his dad.

That’s when he got his blue latter laces. His friends and the rest of the scene noticed but didn’t say anything nor cared. He got investigated for a bit but due to lack of evidence he was let go.

He took a break from being spider-man for a while, opting to spend time with his friends and to sort of heal. He cleaned his suit and fixed his guitar, trying to live a normal life after what he did.

He still gets night terrors once in a while, it gets mixed in with dreams of his dad. He makes jokes about his laces, smiling at Miles’s dad when he catches him staring at his shoes.

Definitely doesn't feel bad about that son of a bitches death, doesn't have a reason to care anyway. But there's still a pinch of- guilt in the back of his mind.

Festering. If he didn't say what he said, if he just caved in and told him that he loved him. Then he would still be alive.

.

A/N: idk y'all I'm not feeling this one 😔 also hey y'all

Wattpad: sevenstarcigs

Tiktok: sevenstarwp

[digital-corruption]

It's a long one... 😅 I hope it makes sense. It made sense in my head.

Unrecognisable Part 28

"No," Angela responded simply while standing in her apartment doorway, the chain still connected between the door and the wall. She looked more like a female version of Phil and hardly resembled anything of Jessy. All she was missing was the tattoos, but her skin was pristine. Even her poise was flawless, which even made me a bit jealous.

"Angela, please! MC helped prove Phil’s innocence, remember?" Jessy pleaded.

"Phil was innocent, he was going to get out anyway," Angela rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, but she was on our side the whole way through!" Jessy pushed. "Please, Angela, it's just one night and then we'll be out of your hair!"

"No!" Angela closed her door, but she could still be heard through it. "Go to a fucking motel and leave me alone!"

"Going as well as I expected," Dan mumbled to me. “I am going to go get some booze. I am sure I won’t miss anything.”

“Take me with you!” I begged.

“Nuh-uh, this is for you. You have to stay and listen to all of this,” Dan gestured with his hand.

“Then I beg of you, bring me back some alcohol too!” I laughed.

“I’ll get a second bottle of Jack Daniels for you,” Dan conceded.

"Angela, remember six years ago when that thing happened and I promised I wouldn't say anything?" Jessy lowered her voice. 

Suddenly the door snapped open, "Jessica Hawkins, are you blackmailing me!?"

"No, I'm just asking you to return the favour for me tonight," Jessy sighed. "It’s that important to me."

"This is the last time you even get to mention that thing that didn't happen," Angela gritted her teeth while pointing a finger at Jessy. 

"You have my word!" Jessy beamed. 

The door closed again as Angela undid the chain. As soon as she opened it again, Jessy burst through to give her a big hug. Angela rolled her eyes then looked at me.

“Tell me you’re not the one from the news,” Angela frowned.

“Ok, I’m not,” I joked.

“Jessica!” Angela’s voice crescendoed. 

“There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything! I promise!” Jessy insisted.

“Fuck it, I will be in my bedroom pretending you all don’t exist. Be out of my apartment before I get up in the morning!” Angela demanded.

Jessy called out as Angela walked away, “Thanks, Angie!”

“Don’t call me that!” Angela yelled back.

Jessy turned back to me and giggled, "Come on in!"

Nervously I stepped into Angela's very posh, city apartment. Obviously a career woman, she lived very neat and tidy, a far cry from my apartment back home. I actually felt very guilty to be using her designer furniture, leaving me questioning whether my plebeian rear end even deserved to sit upon it.

"I am going to order some pizza. The bathroom is over there on the right. You can take your time cleaning yourself up," Jessy smiled. "We can talk after."

"Sounds good," I nodded. 

"Hey, where did Dan go?" Jessy questioned as I headed towards the bathroom. 

"Booze," I replied. 

"I guess I'm driving us back tonight then," Jessy shook her head in disapproval. 

I laughed then entered the bathroom, closing the door behind me. As expected, the posh styling continued through the executive shower, sink and toilet area. Given the places I had been of late, I felt like I stepped into a royal suite. Placing my working class bag on the vanity, I undressed myself and entered the shower. Of course it had a waterfall shower head.

While I cleaned myself up, my mind drifted back to Jake. He said he could find me anywhere, but I wasn't sure that included Jessy's sister's apartment. Still, I had to trust in him that he knew what he was doing and I would try not to check the clock every minute wondering where the hell he was. Remembering his words of warning to the parole board and to Alan had me weak in the knees. I craved being in his arms again, feeling his lips upon my skin. My fantasy though was interrupted by the sounds of yelling.

Quickly I finished up, dried myself off and dressed into my spare set of clothes, shoving my dirty ones into our bag. Then I exited the bathroom to find out the source of the commotion. To my surprise, not only had Dan returned, but Thomas, Cleo and Lilly had shown up and were seated at the kitchen table with Dan, diving into the pizza boxes already. Meanwhile, Jessy was poorly trying to convince Angela in German that it was no big deal that more people had arrived and to just go back to her bedroom. The sight of all of them there acting as if nothing had happened made me smile so much that I started crying.

"MC! What's wrong?" Cleo was the first to notice.

"I just miss you guys," I said as I wiped my tears.

"Come on, sit down and have some pizza with us," Cleo walked me over to the table and sat me down. "You've been going through a hard time, haven't you?"

"It’s been a rollercoaster ride," I shrugged. "Full of ups and downs. I found Jake, but then we got tangled up in a mess."

"His mess," Dan clarified.

"Well not his mess by choice," I corrected. "He didn't even want me to find him, you know. It was his pursuers. They had given up trying to get past his defenses so they sent me a coded message with his location to make me think it was him after all these years telling me that it was finally safe."

"Is that what happened?" Lilly asked. "I was trying to not say anything, like 'Why didn't you tell me?'"

I shook my head, "To be honest, what I found wasn't the man you and I remembered. And as soon as I found him, we were being chased."

Dan poured me some whiskey, "Relax, take your time."

"Thanks," I smiled as I picked up the double shot of whiskey. I contemplated drinking it slowly, but I opted for downing it instead. The whiskey face was inevitable. "That is strong!"

"Exactly what the doctor ordered," Dan joked as he refilled my glass.

"Said no doctor ever!" Cleo remarked.

"And that’s what's wrong with modern medicine. Needs more whiskey," Dan insisted as he took a sip from his glass.

“Have some pizza!” Jessy exclaimed.

Jessy returned to the table and put a slice on a plate for me, then practically shoved it at me. With no choice but to take it, I started eating. Lilly’s phone beeped and she took it out to check it.

“Any word on the hearing?” Jessy asked.

“They just released a statement saying that the board will be delaying their decision until tomorrow and will not be accepting any more statements from his victims,” Lilly sighed.

“Great,” Thomas shook his head. “You know, Jake really screwed it up for us.” He finished his bottle of beer and opened another from his six pack.

“Thomas!” Cleo frowned. “Please ignore him. The hearing was already falling apart on us even before Jake intervened.”

“Except we didn’t flat out threat the parole board and Duskwood police chief!” Thomas argued. “Who knows if they’ll accept any of our statements now! Why couldn’t he just let it go? Why did he have to respond to the board’s challenge?”

“Thomas, enough,” I gritted my teeth.

“Yes, what’s been done is done,” Lilly commented.

“But that’s not what happened,” Jessy giggled.

“What are you talking about?” I questioned.

“Isn’t it obvious? Think about the last time he issued a threat like that to us. You all haven’t forgotten the vote, have you?” Jessy looked around the table.

“Not that vote again,” Dan groaned.

“Jake intervened when he thought we were going to remove MC from the chatroom,” Jessy explained. “Today he cut in right after the head of the board asked for the guards to remove MC and Dan from the hearing room.”

I hadn’t looked at it that way and I blushed realising how true it was. Did he intervene because the board challenged him or did he intervene because I was being ejected for trying to stand up for him? Either way, it was obvious he lost his temper and exposed himself unnecessarily. I had hoped it wouldn’t affect his ability to meet up with me later that night, but the more I thought about it, the more unsure I was of it.

“Did you guys make sure you weren’t followed?” I asked Thomas, Cleo and Lilly.

“Yes, these two made me take about five detours to get here,” Thomas rolled his eyes.

“And we were able to confirm that no cars were following us,” Lilly smiled.

“You don’t think they would follow us here, do you?” Jessy asked out of concern.

“I don’t know, I don’t think they had time to mobilise anyone to track us, but what do I know?” I shrugged as I sipped the whiskey. It wasn’t nearly as strong now.

“Jesus, you sound like a real fugitive,” Dan commented, then gulped down his whiskey before refilling his glass and topping up mine. 

“I kind of am now?” I admitted. “I mean what Jake said about me being innocent and not playing any part in his activities, well it was true before I was declared a wanted fugitive. He once said to me that things change when people are trying to kill you and I hate to say it, but he’s right on that account. I feel like my moral boundaries are blurring. Trying to keep true to my morals is getting harder.”

“MC…,”Jessy put her hand on mine. “You don’t have to tell us anything, ok?”

“Yes, please don’t make us an accessory,” Thomas sneered as he drank his beer.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jessy frowned.

“No, he’s right. It’s bad enough you’re currently harbouring me,” I conceded. “It does really fuck you up and it’s wreaked havoc on Jake.” I finished my glass and Dan refilled it.

“Is he ok?” Lilly asked me worryingly.

I sipped my drink and sighed, “I don’t know. He needs help, Lilly, far more than I can give him. The fire in the mines has really traumatised him. It took him months to physically recover from it, but he still hasn’t recovered emotionally.”

“Then I’m glad he has you now,” Lilly half-smiled at me. “Maybe when things aren’t so crazy, you might introduce us.”

I had completely forgotten that Lilly still didn’t even know what her brother looked like, and I felt so bad about it, “Yes, of course Lilly. I’ll talk to him about meeting both you and Hannah.”

“But when you say he needs help, do you mean like a therapist?” Jessy questioned.

“Yes,” I nodded. “There’s some real deep-seeded issues. Some he is willing to talk about, others he’s too ashamed to mention. He’s willing to get professional help, but how the hell do we do that when he’s a wanted fugitive? How do I know that a therapist won’t immediately report him?”

“I can give you the details for Hannah’s psychologist?” Lilly offered.

“His name isn’t Ulric Barret, is it?” I had to hold back on laughing.

“Oh God no, Hannah dropped Dr. Barret years ago. She's now seeing Dr. Richard Cumming. I'll send you his details. He's been very accommodating for her," Lilly went back to her phone to send me the details. "I am sure he would be willing to make special arrangements for Jake."

Dan chuckled to himself, "What an unfortunate name."

"Every time Dan," Jessy rolled her eyes.

"It never gets old!" he defended. "Dr. Dick Cumming!"

"Anyway, she's been very happy with him," Lilly added.

"I'll bet," Dan mumbled and got himself kicked by more than one person.

I laughed and took another sip. "I'll contact him and try to suss him out.

I finished my glass and Dan refilled it again.

"You two plan on drinking both bottles amongst yourselves tonight?" Cleo teased.

I looked at Dan and joked, "Maybe you should've got one for them."

"Ha, no, I like you. I don't like them," Dan mused. "They can get their own booze. See? Thomas knew to bring his own."

Jessy raised her eyebrow in amusement, "Oh you like her more than me, do you? You realise she's taken."

I giggled, "And you really don't want to piss him off."

Dan turned to me with a frown on his face, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing," I shook my head drunkenly. "He just has a habit of killing people that get in his way."

"Uh, what?" Cleo questioned. 

"Mmhmmm, he even shot down a helicopter!" I boasted and drank some more. "Then there was the guy who tried to exploit us!"

"Dan, she's had enough," Jessy insisted. 

"No, I want to hear more," Dan pushed. "This temper of his, he's never used it on you, has he?"

I suddenly realised how tipsy I was getting and how loose my mouth was. I bit my lip nervously. 

"Dan!" Lilly exclaimed. "Jake would never hurt MC!"

"But MC said so herself, he's not the man that you and she remember," Dan explained. "MC, say something!"

"He didn't mean to-" I started to say when Dan grabbed the neck of my hoodie and pulled it down, exposing the bruises around my neck. "Hey!"

"Oh my God!" Jessy gasped.

"Hurensohn!" Dan cursed and grabbed my arm, pulling down my sleeve to expose the bruises from the night before. "What the hell is this!?"

"You don't understand!" I yelled and pulled my arm back. I stood up and backed away from Dan. 

"Don't understand!? Don't understand!? No, I fucking understand how easy it is for a weak man to abuse a woman! Then fills her head with false promises to never do it again! Only he does it again and again!" Dan roared at me, getting out of his seat and following me. "Where else, MC!? Where else has he hurt you!?"

"Dan!" The girls all yell.

"Show me! Take the damn hoodie off!" Dan ordered. 

"No!" I screamed at him. "I love him and he loves me! That's all you need to fucking know!"

"Don't you fucking feed me that bull shit!" Dan slammed his fist onto Angela's counter top. "If he loved you, you wouldn't be covered in bruises!"

"MC, just take off the hoodie," Thomas stepped in. 

"You too!?" Jessy shouted.

"Get away from me!" I demanded, considering using the exit to my side to escape from Dan.

"Guys, come on, leave her alone!" Cleo tried to convince them to stand down.

"MC, stop trying to protect that fucker!" Dan snapped and stepped towards me.

"Protect who?" His voice was so full of vile anger, that it cut through the chaos.

I turned to the side and saw Jake standing there, in the doorway, glaring at Dan. He looked like he was ready to rip him to shreds.

"Jake?" Lilly gasped.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to show his face," Dan mocked.

"You better start explaining why the fuck you are harassing my woman," Jake gritted this teeth. 

"You could save me the trouble and just admit that you've been abusing her!" Dan demanded.

"Abusing her?" Jake questioned. "Is that what you think is happening?"

"Hey!" Angela shouted out and burst into the kitchen from the other side. "Which one of you left the balcony door wide open!?"

"My apologies, I was in a hurry," Jake kept staring at Dan. "I heard screaming after all."

"Another one!? Jessica Hawkins!" Angela fumed. "I didn't agree to a damn house party!"

"And of course you'd recognise that sound," Dan added sarcastically.

"Actually I am more familiar with her screams of ecstasy, not fear, but perhaps you don't know the difference," Jake smirked.

"Jake! Stop!" I hissed.

"And what, she fell on some stairs? Is that how she got those bruises?" Thomas cut in.

"Is that what this is about?" Jake cackled wide-eyed. "You know I've had a real fucking long day. I don't need your judgemental, disapproving crap! Yes, I bruised her and she fucking liked it!"

I turned red with embarrassment, but no one seemed to notice. All of their attention was squarely on Jake.

"You’re a sick fuck!" Dan spat. 

"I didn’t need you to tell me something I already know. If you don't like what you hear, you shouldn't have fucking asked!" Jake snapped as he stepped forwards in front of me. "Anyone else curious!? No? Then leave MC the fuck alone! I swear, if anyone makes her scream like that again, I will put a bullet in your head!"

"Jake, please calm down," I wrapped my arms around him from behind. "It was just a misunderstanding."

"Threaten all you want, I'm not scared of you, you little dip shit!" Dan warned. "I won't hesitate to take you down if you raise a hand to her!"

"Guys, come on! That's enough!" Jessy pleaded. "You both care deeply about MC, we get it!"

"Fuck this shit," Dan waved his arms, walked away and grabbed his whiskey bottle from the table, then stormed off to the living room.

I sighed and stepped backwards, thinking it had finally de-escalated.

"You have something you want to say, Thomas?" Jake challenged.

"You ruined everything today, you know that?" Thomas sneered with a beer bottle in his hands. "Now Hannah’s kidnapper is going to get out before she is!"

Jake laughed, "Because you were doing such a spectacular job of it! Yeah, I saw your speech, Thomas. It was absolute drivel."

"Hey, he put a lot of effort into that!" Cleo defended.

"Did he? To me it sounded like he was talking out of his ass," Jake shrugged.

Thomas snapped, dropped his beer to the counter,  and moved to punch Jake, but Jake saw it coming. Jake deflected the punch and gave him a retaliatory punch to the gut, causing Thomas to vomit his alcohol and dinner. The girls screamed while I watched in horror over the events unfolding. Dan bolted back into the room, saw Thomas hunched over and Jake standing over him with a smug smile. Dan absolutely lost it and charged at Jake, throwing him into the counter, and trying to wrestle him into a headlock.

"Stop! Please stop!" I shouted.

"That's it! I'm calling the police!" Angela declared. Jessy pleaded with her to reconsider.

Jake grabbed a pot from the counter and slammed it against Dan's temple, disorienting him. Then he shoved Dan back into the counter on the other side. I could see the anger and frustration in his eyes. I knew he was considering a killing blow to end it. I was about to stop him, when Thomas suddenly tackled Jake to the floor.

"You have to stop! Now!" I screamed.

I grabbed Thomas' arm before he could land a punch on Jake, then tried to pull him off. While Thomas was distracted by me, Jake punched him and Thomas fell to the side. Dan pulled me out of the way and went to hit Jake. Out of nowhere water sprayed past me onto the men. I turned around and saw Jessy had pulled out the hose from the kitchen sink.

"Hey!" Dan yelled.

"No! The three of you need to cool down!" Jessy cried out and sprayed them again.

[harperfrogspad]

Partners: Chapter 14: A Night to Remember.

The evening of the big event Lou, Kay, Morgan, Danielle, Hector Baretti, and Mark Joncière sat in Ivo Martin’s office as The Prior explained how the event was going to go. It was a large public event, everyone was welcome, which is why extra security was needed. The event was for a secular holiday known as “The Day of None”, which was held to remember a dark time when the survivors of the genetic storm were still hiding underground with barely anything. The holiday started in the evening with parties and was followed by a day of rest.

The Prior would attend the largest gathering in New Paris and greet anyone who wish to pay their respects to him and the Church. Much like many of the parties and events Martin attended only much larger. The Prior, flanked by Joncière, wouldn’t spend more than five minutes, at most, talking with anyone. Hector and his team would be at the event too, along with many other AC employees. The Psionics were to stay close to Martin and Joncière all night. Lou was to stay between Martin and mark at all times and the two empaths would switch off walking behind Martin, next to Lou, and behind Joncière.

“I need you all to be especially vigilant tonight,” Martin told them.

Baretti turned to the Psionics. “Remember that even though there are many other people who we suspect could be targets, the three of you, are to stay with The Prior and Monsieur Joncière at all times. Breaks will only be taken as a group. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the three Psionics said together.

“Any questions?” Hector asked.

They asked a few clarifying questions and then they were dismissed to get dressed. The three Psionics and Danielle left the office. In the waiting there was a man in full combat gear.

“Faruk!” Lou said when she saw him.

He turned and smiled. “Reed.”

The two shook hands.

“It’s good to see you back on your feet,” Lou said.

“It’s good to be back,” Faruk said. “I heard you saved my boss’s life while I was out.”

“Yeah, well, someone had to keep that jerk alive,” Lou joked.

“I heard that, Reed!” Joncière’s voice came from behind them.

“Truth hurts, Mark!” Lou shot back, totally unbothered by the fact that he’d heard her.

Faruk looked shocked, Lou just winked at him, clapped him on shoulder, and headed for her room.

“Come on, Morgan, you can change in my room,” now she winked at Kay as they walked passed him, he smirked at her.

“I’ll be right there with your dress, Mademoiselle Parker, I need to change too,” Danielle said.

“Just grab the dresses and come change in my room,” Lou said, “it’ll be faster.”

“Alright,” Danielle disappeared for just a moment and then returned carrying two dress bags.

The men watched the three women go into Lou’s small bedroom.

“The mystery that is women,” Joncière said coming to stand next to Kay and Faruk.

“What do they all do in there together?” Faruk asked quietly.

“We’ll never know,” Mark said.

Kay smiled to himself, knowing that if he asked Lou she’d tell him. He stepped away from the other men to go into his room to change, Faruk saw him smiling.

“What’s he smiling about?” He asked Mark.

“Empaths,” Mark rolled his eyes.

Kay half turned back and gave the Inquisitor such a smirk that Mark half chuckled, before Kay disappearing into his room.

The group arrived at the event that was held at the biggest park in the Center. They arrived later than most of the guests, as was The Prior’s policy. They walked together two by two like a train, The Prior and Danielle first, Lou and Morgan next, then Mark and Kay last. They walked and greeted people, Danielle had a tablet balanced on her arm with pictures and names of many notable people who were likely there, but there were still people that would have to introduce themselves. Every few steps the group was stopped so someone could say hello to The Prior. Mark and Kay would occasionally lag behind if someone was talking to the Inquisitor, but they were never very far apart. As they walked Danielle was constantly looking at her tablet and whispering names to The Prior when he needed them. Lou kept a close eye on the pair in front of her, her ears listened for Mark’s voice behind her. This went on for about three hours.

“Who are the people three couples down, I don’t recognize them,” Lou heard Martin ask Danielle.

The secretary began hurriedly swiping through the pictures on her tablet.

Looking at the path in ahead of them Lou noticed the there was a drain that was dipped down slightly coming up on Danielle’s side of the path. The Prior’s secretary was too focused on her task to see it coming. Lou quickened her pace to catch up to Danielle, putting her hands under the secretary’s elbow just as her foot stepped where the drain was. Instead of stumbling Danielle was supported by Lou’s hands and continued to walk gracefully even though one foot didn’t have stable ground for a moment.

“Thank you,” Danielle whispered to Lou, who winked at her.

“Did you find that couple, Danielle?” Martin asked.

“Not yet, sir,” she went back to looking.

Lou looked up at the couple in question and her heart skipped a beat. Instinctively she wanted to looked back at Kay, but she didn’t. Still standing close enough for The Prior to hear her, Lou answered the question.

“Monsieur and Madam… Stone, sir.”

Martin and Danielle both turned and looked at Lou and then forward again.

“As in…?” Danielle asked.

“Yes,” Lou said.

“His?” Martin asked.

“Parents, sir,” Lou answered.

“Their relationship?” Martin asked.

“Uh, not good,” Lou said.

“First names?” Martin asked.

“Robert and Adele,” Lou told him.

“Professions?” Martin asked.

“Uhhh…” Lou didn’t know.

“They both work for Partner Control,” Danielle said, having found them on her tablet.

“Ugh, that makes sense,” Lou couldn’t stop herself from saying.

“Why?” Martin asked.

“Oh, um, they rejected Kay at birth because he wasn’t Pure, his grandmother raised him,” Lou answered.

“I see. How far back is he?” Martin wanted to know.

“Ten steps,” Lou said after checking in her peripheral vision.

“Tell Parker to switch with him once he’s closer,” Martin told Lou.

“Yes, sir,” Lou said, before slipping back in beside Morgan.

Kay had seen the whole thing from he place just behind Joncière. He had smiled with pride when he saw Lou gracefully prevent Danielle from stumbling. Then he was confused by why Lou had stayed beside the two for so long. Once Joncière was done talking and they caught up again, Morgan dropped behind indicating that they should switch places. Kay quickened his pace to move into Morgan’s spot as she slowed into his. He walked closer to Lou than Morgan had, even without touching her Kay felt her concern.

“Look who’s coming up to The Prior,” she whispered.

Kay looked around The Prior and saw his parents, they were almost to Martin. His face remained calm and serious as ever.

“I thought you said that we wouldn’t run into them at an event,” Lou said softly.

“It’s a public event, Lou,” he said.

“You gonna be okay?” She touched his hand very subtly.

Just the very corners of his lips turned up. Her concern warmed his soul.

“I’ll be fine,” he said.

“Monsieur and Madam Stone,” Martin greeted the couple with a little more enthusiasm than usual. He shook their hands.

“Monsieur Prior,” they both said.

“I have to tell you,” Martin said. “It is such an honor to meet you both.”

The Stones both looked surprised.

“Thank you, Monsieur Prior,” Robert Stone said. “But the honor is ours.”

“You two must be so proud of your son,” Martin went on.

Lou realized what Martin was doing and it became difficult for her to keep the smile of her face.

“Um, of course,” Monsieur Stone said, his eyes barely shifting to his son.

“He is one of the best employees I have ever worked with, his skills and professionalism are exemplary. But what truly sets him apart is that he protects out of instinct, not just because it’s his job. He is exceptional human bean, you should be very proud,” Martin said.

Neither of the elder Stones knew what to say to all that.

“Well, if we’re giving out credit for how well that young man turned out, I think I should be first in line,” another voice said.

From behind Robert Stone stepped out Rebecca Stone with Ann Reed on her arm.

“Mother,” Robert said stiffly.

“Madam Rebecca Stone, how nice to see you again,” Martin took Rebecca’s hand. “I was just telling your son and daughter-in-law that they should be very proud of Kay.”

“Yes, they *should* be,” Rebecca said, casting a sideways glance at her son, who avoided looking at her.

Lou couldn’t keep the smile off her face now, but she managed to keep it small.

“And if I’m not mistaken,” The Prior said to Rebecca. “This is Ann Reed with you.”

Ann was shocked that he knew her name.

“It is indeed,” Rebecca said. “Ann, this is Ivo Martin, Prior of the Inquisition.”

“It’s such an honor, Monsieur Prior,” Ann said shyly.

“The honor is all mine, Madam Reed,” Martin said. “Your daughter is perhaps the fastest learners I have ever met. And she has already saved, not only my life, but the life of one my Inquisitors, as well.”

“Oh, is that right?” Ann was surprised and looked briefly at Lou, who standing behind Martin, trying not to look guilty.

Robert Stone shifted uncomfortably. “We shouldn’t keep you any longer, Monsieur Prior.”

“Thank you, Monsieur Stone, it was nice to meet you both,” Martin said, shaking their hands again, then he returned his focus to Ann and Rebecca.

Robert and Adele Stone stepped away from The Prior, the latter moved towards her son a hand outstretched, like she was going to touch him. Lou instinctively stepped in front of Kay and then she needed to come up with a reason why.

“My deepest apologies, Madam,” she said. “But touching The Prior’s personal escorts could be seen as an act of aggression.”

Kay’s mother stepped back slightly, looking aghast. “I would never…”

“Oh, of course not, Madam!” Lou exaggerated. “But you wouldn’t want to give the wrong impression to anyone, you know how high society can be.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Adele said, returning to her husband’s side.

“Surely a mother touching her son isn’t an act of aggression?” Robert said eyeing Lou.

“Certainly not, Monsieur, but they,” she waved her hands indicating the armed guards around them, “don’t know they are mother and son.”

Robert Stone stared at Lou with eyes that were dark brown just like Kay’s, but unlike Kay’s they were cold, unkind, angry even. She returned his gaze without a shred of fear, he clearly understood what Lou had done whereas his wife didn’t. Kay touched Lou’s arm gently, she stepped to the side.

“It’s was nice to see you, mom, dad, but we do have to get back to work,” he said politely.

“Of course, dear,” his mother said.

“Of course, son, we’ll call you,” his father said.

Then they said goodbye and left.

“Ugh,” Rebecca Stone scoffed. “I thought they’d never leave.”

Lou and Kay looked to see Rebecca, Ann, Martin, and Danielle facing them, Mark and Morgan had caught up to them as well.

“We are going to take a break,” Martin said. “There is a tent reserved for us right up this path. I have invited Madam Stone and Madam Reed to join us.”

Then the group of them moved to the tent, Hector Baretti and his team were already there. Hector stood by the entrance with three of his men, the others surrounded the tent. Inside the tent there were tables with food, tables and chairs, and even a sofa. Martin led his guests to the banquet table to get some food first. Mark and Danielle went next in line for food, the three Psionics brought up the rear. Everyone got some food and sat down, they talked and visited while they ate. Kay sat close to Lou.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Kay said quietly to Lou.

“Do what?” She asked.

“Stop my mom from touching me,” he said.

“Yes, I really did,” she told him.

Kay just looked at her, and touched her hand under the table.

“I might not have been responsible for my actions if I’d let her touch you,” Lou said, her anger rising.

“Shh, calm sunshine,” he whispered barely audible, squeezing her hand.

Lou took a deep breath.

“You don’t have to protect me from them,” he said, smiling.

“Yes, I do,” she looked at him very seriously.

Kay smiled at her.

After they ate, Rebecca, Ann and The Prior came over to Kay and Lou.

“Kay, Lou,” Martin said. “I have really enjoyed speaking with your family.”

“Some of them, anyway,” Rebecca said.

Lou snickered. “Rebecca, I love you.”

Rebecca smirked, looking a lot like Kay for a moment. “I love you too, dear. It looked like put my son and daughter-in-law back into their place as well.”

“I *may* have done that,” Lou said, tipping her head slightly away from Kay, who only smiled at her.

“Did he tell you that you shouldn’t have?” Rebecca asked.

“He told me that I didn’t… have to,” Lou answered slowly.

“And what did you tell him?” Rebecca asked.

“That of course I do,” Lou stood up tall, looking stubbornly at Kay out of the corner of her eye.

“Good girl,” Rebecca said. “Don’t listen to him, you protect him from those two all you like, love.”

Lou smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”

Martin leaned down slightly to Ann who was more than a head shorter than him. “You see, their first priority is to protect me, but their second priority is to protect each other. Just like I said Kay protects on instinct, so does Lou.”

Ann smiled with pride. “Just like her father.”

“It was wonderful talking with you both, but I’m afraid that duty calls,” The Prior said.

“Of course,” Rebecca and Ann said, then they both hugged Kay and Lou.

The group returned to the event and The Prior and Mark continued to greet a seemingly never ending trail of people. The rest of the evening was uneventful from the Psionics. By the time they were back in The Prior’s car Lou’s legs and feet were aching from walking in high heels all night. She subtly kicked them off and tucked them under her seat. She and Morgan sat in the backward facing seats while Martin, Kay, and, Joncière sat facing forward. Hector, Danielle, and the main security team followed in separate cars. The cars weaved through the city streets making their way back to the Inquisition building. Lou kept her eyes focused outside, knowing that their job wasn’t over until they were safely back in Martin’s office. As she watched the city going by the windows she suddenly realized something.

“Where are we going?” She asked suddenly, not realizing that she had just interrupted Mark and Martin talking.

“Back to the Inquisition,” Mark said, annoyed. “Where else would we be going, Reed?”

She looked out the window again. “This isn’t the way back to the Inquisition though.”

She turned around and spoke to the driver who was right behind her. “Why are we going this way?”

“The road was closed back there, they sent us this way,” he told her.

Lou looked behind them and saw that Hector’s car was still following them.

“What is it, Lou?” Martin asked.

“This way just takes us really close to Termitary,” she explained.

Martin smiled his slight smile. “It’s good to know that you are keeping such a close eye on our journey, but despite being close to Termitary, this is an approved alternate route.”

“Of course, sir,” Lou said, feeling kind is silly. “Sorry for causing alarm.”

“No need,” Martin said, before returning to his conversation with Mark.

Kay winked encouragingly at her from his seat between the two men, she gave him a soft smile. Morgan was now keeping a close eye out the window. Lou went back to watching out her window too. The car came to a stop in a long line of traffic, cars were being forced into one lane from three. Lou couldn’t explain why the whole situation made her uncomfortable, but it did. She looked at Kay, who was also keeping a close eye on things ahead of them, but he felt her gaze and looked at her. He was calm, so she smiled at him and went back to watching the cars behind them. That’s when she realized that Hector’s car was now several cars behind them, Lou kept a close eye on it. Their pace was slow as so many cars were all in one lane, it seemed like an hour had already passed.

“Something’s happening up ahead,” Kay broke the silence that had settled on them.

Lou turned around and looked, sure enough the were flashing yellow lights up ahead. As they got closer they saw a man standing in the road, showing the cars which way to go. Right went into the Center and left went towards Termitary. Lou looked out the back window again and tried to spot Hector’s car, but she couldn’t see it. As she looked it became their turn and the car turned.

“Wait,” Lou turned to the driver again. “Where are you going? This takes us away from the Center, we were supposed to turn right.”

“There is a detour this way,” the driver said.

Once they turned the speed of traffic had picked back up and they were moving faster again. Then it suddenly slowed again, and they were still headed towards Termitary. Lou couldn’t take it any longer, there was something suspicious about all of this. She pulled at out her phone and dialed Hector.

“Lou? What is it?” Kay asked, picking up on her distress. She looked at him, but didn’t answer.

“What is it, Reed?” Baretti answered.

“Monsieur Baretti, which way did you turn when you got to the flagger?” She asked.

“What?”

“Which way, right or left?” She sounded annoyed.

“Right, of course, towards the Center,” he said. “Why?”

“Shit,” she swore.

“Reed?”

“We were sent left,” Lou told him.

“What?!” Baretti yelled into the phone, Lou pulled it away from her ear for a second.

“It gets worse,” she said.

“Get this car turned around now!” She heard him yell. “Tell me,” he spoke to her again.

“We’re headed toward a one-way road in Termitary, with no good places to turn around,” Lou said.

“I knew this night was too easy,” Hector said. “You know your job, Reed. Keep those two alive until we can get to you. And keep me updated!” Then he hung up.

“Yes, sir,” she said to no one, hanging up her.

“How bad is it?” Kay asked.

“It’s not good,” she said. “It’s not typically a busy road, but with all this extra traffic we are going to end up sitting still surrounded by tall buildings, it’s the perfect place for an ambush.”

“Any alleyways?” Morgan asked.

Lou closed her eyes and thought as she ran her hand through her hair ruffling the neat updo she’d had. “A couple, maybe more.”

“It’d be better if we just went on foot,” Morgan said.

“Ha!” Lou looked at her like she was crazy. Morgan looked confused. “Oh, you must be from the Center too.”

“Yeeees,” Morgan said.

“We can’t just take two men in Inquisitor uniforms wandering around Termitary, they’ll be shot within the first block!”

“Lou is correct,” Martin said. “Anyone with a weapon who doesn’t like the Inquisition might try to harm us.”

“Not to mention tons of potential sniper perches for the assassins out to kill then, I mean call me paranoid,” Lou said.

“You’re not paranoid, you’re good at your job,” Kay said, looking around trying to assess the situation.

“I agree,” Martin said, then he spoke to the driver. “Can you get us out of here?”

“I can try, sir,” he said.

Unfortunately that is when they passed from the outskirts of the Center and into the tight one lane road in Termitary that Lou had warned them about.

“We’re in it now,” Lou said. “The only thing to do now, is get through it.”

The car came to a stop behind a long line of other cars. The three Psionics were keeping a close lookout on the buildings and the sides of the street.

“Is there another way back once we get through this area?” Martin asked.

“Yes,” Lou said, “the road widens out again and then there is-”

“GET DOWN!” Kay suddenly yelled, putting his hands on both Martin and Joncière’s backs pushing them down.

Morgan felt it just after Kay, she drove to cover Joncière with her body. Kay and Lou both leaned over Martin. The sound of breaking glass and a hot, burning pain across her arm, followed by more grass breaking, Lou didn’t hear the gunfire, but she knew they were being shot at. The Psionics got the Inquisitors on on to the floor of the car. The three of them were out of their seats, kneeling down on the floor, covering the other two completely, Kay and Morgan had their guns drawn. There were screams from outside, people on the street ran away, some even abandoned their cars to get away.

“Anyone got eyes on them?” Kay called out.

“I got nothing,” Morgan said.

Lou looked up at the rooftops as she shook her right arm, a bullet had grazed it, it hurt but wasn’t life threatening.

“Lou, are you hit?” Kay asked setting the blood on her arm.

“I’m fine,” she said, her eyes still searching.

Martin pulled a first aid kit out from under one of the seats and began wrapping Lou’s arm. Her eyes never once stopped searching.

“I see him!” Lou called.

“Where?” Kay asked.

“Rooftop, behind us,” she told him.

Kay turned to around and tried to take a look out of the shot-out back window. Lou saw the sniper take aim at him.

“No, don’t!” Lou called out to Kay. Martin had finished bandaging her arm, but now held onto to it preventing her from moving toward Kay.

He felt it just as she said it and he ducked back down. A bullet flew right through the window where Kay’s head had just been and into the back seat in between Lou and Morgan. Kay and Lou made eye contact, he could feel her fear for him coming off of her in waves. He touched her hand, hoping to calm her.

“There’s another one!” Morgan called, looking out the side window.

Kay squeezed Lou’s hand bringing her attention back to him.

“Lou, I’m going to need you to be my eyes,” Kay told her.

Lou nodded looking back out the window and tried to figure out coordinates, then she gave them to Kay. Morgan fired her gun at the sniper she saw out her window, Lou flinched, closing her eyes, at the loud bang.

“Cover your ears, and keep sight of where the bullet hits,” Kay told her as he took aim without raising his head to look.

Lou covered her ears and watched the sniper look for his target. Kay fired the Ultimatum, it was loud even with her ears covered, the shot missed.

“Two meters to your left and about four meters higher,” Lou told the empath.

Morgan’s gun went off. “Got him!”

“Good work, you see any others?” Kay asked Morgan, adjusting his aim.

Another bullet hit the car’s roof.

“Not yet,” she said, scanning the rooftops.

“Keep looking,” he said, then quietly to Lou he asked. “Ready?”

She nodded without taking her eyes off the sniper. Kay fired again, missed again, but it was much closer, the sniper ducked down.

“One more meter to your left, but not till I tell you,” Lou told him.

Kay adjusted slightly and waited. Lou kept her eyes on where she could see the snipers gun, for him to reappear. The wait felt like eternity. Then she saw him take his place again and adjusted his gun.

“Now,” Lou said, trying not to yell.

The Ultimatum’s shot rang true that time, Lou saw the sniper’s head fly backwards when the bullet struck him.

“Got him!” She called out.

“Morgan?” Kay asked.

“I don’t see or feel anyone else,” she reported.

“Good, let’s get out of here,” Lou said, as Martin and Mark sat up slightly.

She turned around to talk to the driver, but his head was slumped over. She touched his shoulder, he felt limp, she checked for his pulse as the group watched.

“He’s dead,” she told them, swearing internally.

“What’s the plan?” Morgan asked.

“We can’t stay here,” Lou said. “We’re sitting ducks.”

Kay pulled out his phone and started dialing Hector. “I’m going to check where Baretti is,” he told them.

That’s when Lou noticed that his sleeve was ripped and bloody.

“Are you hurt?” She asked.

He looked into her eyes as he listened to his phone, the other end was ringing.

“That first bullet grazed me too,” he said, somewhat reluctantly.

Lou grabbed his arm and pushed his sleeve out of the way. The gash on his arm was significantly larger than the one on hers and still bleeding. She locked eyes with Kay, he felt a strong mixture of anger and concern coursing through her. Grabbing the first aid kit she started to treat his wound, Martin helped her.

“Come on, Hector,” Kay said to himself as the phone just kept ringing.

“Not answering?” Martin asked.

“No,” Kay flinched slightly as Lou tied the bandage especially tight.

Mark chuckled. “Remind never to piss you off, Reed.”

Lou shot him an angry side glance before refocusing on Kay’s wound.

Kay understood perfectly why Lou was angry, he was worried about her wound and kept quiet about his even though it was worse. Hector’s voice mail finally picked up, Kay gave a quick run down of what had happened and where they were before hanging up.

“We’re on our own for now,” he told them.

“I hate to say it, but we are going to have to get out and walk back towards the Center,” Lou said.

“I thought you sai-” Morgan tried to say.

“I know what I said,” Lou didn’t let her finished. “But we can’t just sit here, if there is anyone else trying to kill us this is a great place for them to do it!”

“Lou’s right, we can’t just sit here,” Kay agreed. “But I don’t like the idea of getting out and walking around in the streets.”

“I’m open to other ideas,” Lou said.

Kay sighed. “I don’t have any.”

Lou bit her bottom lip, thinking. Then she had an idea. She looked at the three men.

“Take off your jackets,” she said pointing at Mark and Martin.

“Why?” Mark wrinkled up his face at her.

“You have plain black shirts on under them, right?” She asked.

“Yes,” Martin said starting to unbutton his jacket, understanding where Lou was going with this.

Mark still stared at her.

“This way you won’t have the bright, gold Church symbol on you like a bullseye,” she explained.

Mark finally started unbuttoning his jacket. Lou looked at Kay, he was wearing a light grey suit with a dark blue shirt.

“Take yours off too,” she said to him.

Unlike the other two men who hesitated, Kay complied immediately.

Martin and Joncière had got their jackets off by then. Lou took them and turned them inside out. She was watched by four sets of eyes. When she was done she handed Mark’s jacket and handed it to Morgan.

“Put this on,” she told the other woman.

Morgan was confused but she did it anyway. Then Lou put Martin’s inside out jacket on.

“There, now let’s get the hell out of here, shall we?” Lou said, leading the way out of the car.

The others followed her out, that’s when Lou’s idea for a wardrobe change made sense. They were all in dark clothes now, the symbol of the Church and Lou and Morgan’s fancy dresses were all covered up.

“Alright,” Martin said once they were on the sidewalk. “Now we need to get back to Hector. Stay together unless impossible, as the highest ranking officer, Kay is in charge. That includes of you and me, Mark, if it comes to our safety.”

“Understood, Monsieur Prior,” Mark said.

“And didn’t call me that. No ranks, no sir, names only,” Martin said.

“Of course, Ivo,” Mark said.

“Take point, Lou,” Kay said. “Triangle formation.”

Lou stood in front, Ivo and Mark stood shoulder to shoulder in the middle, Kay and Morgan just behind them, respectively. They moved cautiously down the street that way. There was no one else to be seen anywhere, the firefight had scared off everyone. As they walked back down the way they’d come in the car they heard something that stopped them all in their tracks.

“Gunfire,” Lou said, she looked back to Kay, awaiting his orders.

Kay closed his eyes and reached out with has Psi, trying to get a feel for what was happening.

“We need to get to cover,” he said, opening his eyes again. “Which way are the alleyways, Lou?”

“Behind us,” she pointed back towards Termitary.

“Let’s go,” Kay said, turning around, the group followed his lead. “Lou come up here with me, Morgan, take up the rear and keep smelling for trouble.”

The women switched places, Morgan lagging behind a bit to keep tabs on the firefight behind them.

“Is it Hector and them behind us?” Lou asked Kay.

“I think so,” he answered. “But there there is a lot of danger too.”

Lou nodded. “The alleyway is just up here.”

When they reached the alley Lou was about to walk into it when Kay grabbed her from behind pulling her back against his chest, while putting his other arm up to block Mark and Ivo from stepping forward. A gunshot rang out. A bullet wizzed past Lou pressed against Kay. Mark and Ivo pressed up against the side of the building, Morgan hurried to cover them. Kay shifted Lou until she was next to Martin, then pulled his gun out.

“Death to the Inquisition!” A voice in the alleyway yelled.

Kay quickly turned down the alley and fired his gun, then to cover again.

“There’s a least three of them down there,” he told Lou.

“Shit, how did they find us?” She asked.

“Probably lying in waiting,” he said.

“Kay!” Morgan called in a harsh whisper.

“I feel it,” he replied calmly.

“What?” Lou asked him.

“The firefight behind us is getting closer,” he told her.

A whole string of random swear words flew through Lou’s head, each more vulgar than the last. She was looking around trying to find away out of their predicament. Instead she saw more people sneaking around all the abandoned cars on the street, fear filled her. Instinctively she grabbed Kay’s hand, he felt the fear of death coursing through her, then he looked and saw what she saw. He felt Lou’s fear, but not any danger.

“It’s alright,” he whispered.

Then a man in AC combat gear popped up in front of them.

“Beau?!” Lou recognized him. “How?”

Follower Beaumont of The Prior’s main security team stood before them, he had a smile on his face. Two more men from the security team approached Beaumont. The three of them fired into the alleyway naturalizing the attackers.

“Baretti got Stone’s message,” he explained.

“We need to get them to safety,” Kay told him.

“We were told to take you farther down this road,” Beaumont told them.

“Farther into Termitary?” Lou asked.

“The way back down there is completely blocked with shooters. Monsieur Baretti and the others are keeping them at bay. We’re going to have to take the long way around,” Beaumont told them.

“Alright, let’s do it,” Kay said.

“We’ll follow your lead, sir,” Beaumont said to Kay.

“Surround Martin and Joncière, keep them covered at all times,” Kay told them.

The three men immediately complied, and the group began their trek down the deserted street. Lou called Baretti and told them that Beaumont had found them and they are headed back. It was faster than Lou had expected even though she was still barefoot, having never put her heels back on. Beaumont guided them back the way that they had come. They took a shortcut through a different alleyway on the other side of the road that took them to a one lane road headed out of Termitary.

“Down here a little ways we have a car,” Beaumont told them.

When they were almost to the team’s car a shots were fired and Beaumont fell to the ground. Lou immediately dropped down to him while the others surrounded Mark and Ivo more tightly and returned fire.

“Beau!?” Lou called to him.

“I’m okay,” he said. “It hit me in the vest.”

“Get him up, we need to get to cover,” Kay said.

More shots were fired as Lou pulled Beaumont to his feet and the group of them moved to take cover behind some cars.

“We’re in too big of a group,” Morgan shouted between shots. “We need to split up!”

Lou didn’t think that was a good idea, but it was up to Kay so she kept quiet.

“No, we stay together,” Kay said. “Well form a box around them, Morgan you take the lead, I’ll take up the rear, then two on each side. Lou, can you protect us from above?”

“Yes, sir, I can,” she said giving him a proud half smile.

Kay felt her pride as he gave her a quick smile back.

“Alright, let’s do it,” Kay said.

The group executed Kay’s plan perfectly as they moved towards the car. Shots were fired all around Lou, she was the only one without a gun. She kept her eyes up as she walked on Kay’s left, next to Mark. She kept her eyes on the buildings above them for any potential attack. Then she caught sight of something shiny on a rooftop, she called to Kay and put her hand up. The bullet was so fast that she actually caught it in Her bare hand. She immediately dropped it, it was still hot and it burned her hand. Kay raised his gun and fired, the shooter fell dead.

“You alright?” Kay asked, not taking his eyes off the environment.

“Yeah,” Lou shook her hand and then looked at it. There was a bullet shaped burn on her palm.

They kept moving. They had taken down many of the shooters and were almost to the car when there was another group of shooters appeared from an alleyway. The group was forced to take cover behind two different cars. Kay and Lou had pulled Mark back to safety. Morgan, Martin, Beaumont, and the other guards were at the car in front. They were so close to the team’s car, but the gunfire in between the two cars was too heavy to get through.

“We’re in trouble, partner,” Lou said to Kay.

“We are,” Kay agreed, trying to think.

Lou saw a possible solution, she took a deep breath. “I might be able to create a sort of shield, to get us across.”

“‘Might’ isn’t good enough right now, Lou,” Kay said.

She sighed. “You’re right, I know you are, but I don’t see any other options.”

Kay and Lou stared at each other for a bit, a silent understanding passing between them.

“I agree with, Stone,” Mark said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Then what do we do?” Lou asked looking between the two men.

“Is there anything else that you could move to block the space?” Kay asked.

Lou looked, there were abandoned cars everywhere, but she wasn’t sure that she could move an entire car. Then she spotted something that she could move, a dumpster. Her eyes lit up when she looked back to Kay, he smiled.

“Do it,” he told her.

Lou reached out and started pulling the dumpster forward then sideways, trying to get it into place. Before she could move it far enough to give them cover one of the shooters threw an alcohol bottle with a burning rag in it and it hit the ground in between the two groups. A fire now blocked their way. On top of that more shooters were approaching. The two groups looked at each other through the flames.

“You two stay with Mark,” Martin called to them. “Keep him safe, and you three get back to me.”

Kay and Lou nodded. Then Martin and his group ran, got into the car, got the car turned around and drove away.

[nonchalantee]

small perspective flip for any scene of your choice in not strong or brave but a secret third thing if you feel like it! thanks love the fic!

ooo this one is kinda tough actually since that fic has 4 main povs already but HMM lolol in the spirit of chaos, let's go with a donato bro. gelly at dan's congrats! you're a captain! party:

Angelo:

"You can't show up empty-handed," his mom grouses at him over the line while Gelly is busy pouring terrible cop breakroom coffee.

"I'll bring him flowers," Gelly says, rolling his eyes.

"Buck?"

"Huh? Why would I bring Buck flowers? The party is for Dan, right?"

His mom huffs an exasperated sigh. "Gelly-"

"I could have sworn Lu said Dan was the one who was getting the promotion."

"He is," his mom says. "But, listen, Captain Nash is very important to Buck. You need to make a good impression on him, understand? Bring something for the table. Like a charcuterie board or something."

"I'll be late if I stop to do that," Gelly says patiently. He gulps his coffee down in three large swallows, too hot, and sags slightly against his desk. Another 20 minutes left on shift, quick home to change and psych himself up for a social event filled with mostly strangers, then driving over to the directions Lucy gave him. He's the only brother without kids, and one of the only ones left without even a partner, which means he gets to be the official Family Presence for celebration events like this.

"Angelo Lucian Donato, I am trying to give you important advice."

Gelly winces. Full named, okay. "Fine, fine," he says. "I'll get a board from the supermarket, happy? Though I doubt being late will make any better impression than showing up with food."

A brief pause, then, "No, you're right." Before Gelly can say anything to that, his mom adds, "I'll get it for you. Is it better for me to drop it off at work or at home?"

"Ma... what's going on? This is kinda, uh, not normal behavior from you."

"Just trust me," she says, brisk. "Home or work?"

"Home," Gelly answers, giving up.

--

Everyone in the family always talked about Gelly and Lucy like they were copies of one another. They had the same approach to people and situations. They even looked the most alike out of all the kids. Gelly had had his own post-graduation wild child phase that had pioneered the path for Lucy, years later, to spend a few years surfing and working odd jobs without the family freaking out overmuch; they were the two perpetually singles at every family function. Then Dan showed up and became Lucy's steady plus one, but Gelly honestly thought that was all they were ever going to be.

He knew Daniel Buckley pretty well. He even more or less liked Daniel Buckley. Dan was an unquestionably great guy, and he looked at Lucy like she hung the stars in the sky, so Gelly didn't actually have any kind of objection to the man. But Gelly also never thought they were on track for marriage. He thought Lucy was like him in this way the way she was like him in almost every other way: that she liked herself, liked her life, too much to lock it in step with anyone else's. Make herself beholden to someone else, someone not family.

Her getting married a few months ago threw Gelly for a loop because, for maybe the first time, he started looking at his life and thinking Is this where I'm supposed to be? It was maybe more introspection than he ever really gave himself in the past, and it led to some recent dating misadventures as he attempted to also find his forever someone to settle down with. He hadn't thought anyone had really noticed, but he'd forgotten a key piece of information, which was: Marian Donato.

She's waiting for him in his kitchen, having let herself into his apartment with her key, busy at work transferring a grocery store charcuterie board onto a nice tray. She's frowning a little bit in concentration and barely looks up when Gelly walks in, only paying enough attention to him to ask, "Do you want some coffee before you get going?"

Rather than say anything else, Gelly just responds, "Sure, Ma, that would be great."

She gives him approval he doesn't ask for over the outfit he changes into, then messes with his hair till he bats her hands away; then presses his travel mug into one hand and pushes the charcuterie tray into his chest with the other, frowning as she looks him over.

"Maybe you should bring some flowers," she frets.

"For who...?"

"Captain Nash's wife, obviously. I hear she's also important to Buck."

"Okay." Gelly puts both the tray and the coffee down on the counter, then faces his mom. "Explain."

She huffs an impatient breath. "I just want you to make a good impression."

"Uh-huh. Explain in more detail, now."

"Dan was basically an orphan when Lucy brought him home. We didn't have to appease any family. It's not going to be so easy with Buck-"

"Okay, that's too many times you have mentioned Buck today. What's going on, Mom? For real."

She gives him an exasperated glare. "You're looking to settle down," she says, a statement and not a question. Gelly inclines his head, because he knows better than to lie to his mom. She says, "Right now, you're dating your way through everyone you avoided when you were just being casual."

"Okay, how do you know that?"

"I am very observant," she says. "Which is how I know that in about three more weeks, probably after Lucy and Dan drag Buck to family dinner, you're going to look at him and think of him as an option. Because right now everyone is an option. And I am here to tell you, Buck is an excellent option."

Gelly stares at her, brow raised. "Ma, this sounds kinda crazy." Buck is a great kid - he was an amazing partner to Lucy, and Gelly is honestly upset that she's going to lose that in the station transfer - but Buck is almost a decade younger than Gelly and Lucy would kill him, besides. And then Dan would make sure his corpse was desecrated beyond recognition. The guy has a protective streak that Gelly, as a fellow big brother, can see from space.

"I'm just keeping you from stumbling before you even start to race," his mom says. She picks his mug back up and pushes it back towards him. "I'll carry the tray. Come on, we've got to get you going. You can't be late. First impressions! You're meeting the two people Buck thinks of as parents, here."

"Oh, my god," Gelly mumbles, and dutifully follows her out the door.

--

The Grant-Nashes have a pretty swank house, not ostentatious, but classy and warm. It looks like something that would be featured in an architectural magazine of one kind or another. Captain Nash and Sergeant Grant greet him together at the door, and recognize him by name when he introduces himself.

"Angelo, of course, welcome," Athena says, a delighted smile on her face. It even looks authentic. "Please come in. Lucy and Dan are out in the yard - I think they're trying to get the barbecue going."

"As if we didn't already have enough food," Bobby says indulgently. "Though, of course, more is always welcome." He takes the charcuterie tray out of Gelly's hands with a genuine seeming, "This looks great!" while leading Gelly into the kitchen/living room area.

"My mom always says to not show up empty handed," Gelly says. In fact, she'd said it as she closed his car door on him, glowering at him in maternal bossiness.

"Marian is her own brand of terrifying," Buck chimes in, rising from a crouched position in the kitchen. Gelly had entirely missed him on first view: he takes Buck in now.

He's of a height with Gelly, which not many men can claim, though they both fall a little short of Dan's own giant frame. He's big, thanks to all of the functional muscle that firefighters put on, and it looks good on him. He wears it glowingly well, all health and rosy cheeks, bright eyes, big smile.

"You're her favorite, you know nothing of how scary she can actually be," Gelly says, and watches Buck's eyes crinkle in a happy, teasing grin. "Hey, Buck."

"Gelly, hey," Buck says, and takes the few steps forward necessary to bring him within half-hug territory. His arms are huge around Gelly, solid, strong. Gelly claps him on his broad, muscled back, and feels their chests make full contact. This close, he can tell that Buck even smells good - light cologne, more like an afterthought, melding into the base notes of his own personal scent. Gelly squeezes him tighter for a second, feels Buck squeeze him a bit in return, and finds he doesn't actually want to let go.

But it would be weird to not let go.

Buck stays with him and introduces him around to the others who have already arrived - Gelly's met Maddie Buckley before, but not often, and she is even more pregnant now than she was a few months ago. Like, Gelly's pretty sure she's about to pop any second, level of pregnant. Hen and Karen Wilson are fun, and the assorted first responders from the 147 are vaguely familiar in that Gelly has either met them once or twice through Lucy or seen them at some kind of emergency. He banters a bit with them before swooping in on Lucy and Dan, still out on the patio, still hovering over a stubbornly unlit grill.

Gelly smacks a congratulatory kiss to Dan's cheek, channeling his Nonna's spirit to really sell the celebratory ambience, and tells his brother-in-law congratulations.

"Thanks," Dan says, dry. "Do you know how to work this thing?"

"I'm sure we can figure it out," Gelly says magnanimously. But he finds that, even while he's standing with them, ostensibly making some kind of helpful conversation, his gaze is unerringly drawn through the glass doors, finding Buck. Hmmm. Buck looks good in a crowd. People gravitate toward him. He smiles big, he laughs big, he emotes joy with his whole body. He's louder than Dan, but he's not abrasive. He's just... a sweet guy. A really sweet, nice guy. Gelly already knows his family loves Buck. Gelly was not actually kidding when he called Buck Marian's favorite. And Buck is already 'Uncle Buck' to an entire generation of Donatos. Hmmm. A sweet, nice, young guy.

But age gap romances work out. They work out all the time. It's not like either one of them is actually a kid; they're both adults.

Buck is, uh, very adult. Gelly watches him bend down to give Maddie a hand in standing - watches Buck's forearm muscles flex, the way he instinctively braces her and makes sure she has her balance. She says something that makes him laugh and hmmm. He looks good all the time but he looks even better when he's laughing.

Gelly probably looks weird right now with how he's staring without blinking, but... what was that his mom had said again? Buck is an excellent option. She's biased, obviously, but she's not wrong.

He lands himself back by Buck's side, them crowded together as more people arrive. Buck absentmindedly wraps a friendly arm around Gelly's shoulders. He's strong enough that he doesn't even seem to notice when Gelly leans into him; Buck just shifts his weight slightly to brace for it. The first true spark of attraction starts to burn in Gelly at that reaction; he's not sure why that's the thing that does it - maybe the easy strength, maybe the unthinkingly generous responsiveness, maybe just something ineffable altogether. But the attraction is here and it's real and Gelly already feels it starting to grow.

Okay, Gelly thinks. He's not sure what he's agreeing to - maybe to his mom, maybe to the universe, for putting Buck right in front of him. There's a symmetry to it. He and Lucy always doing the same thing. On multiple levels, the idea of this just feels right.

Maybe it's ironic that he's thinking this just as the prickles start needling up and down his spine. Gelly's gaze snaps up, and he casts looks around, trying to figure out what triggered his fight or flight reflex.

Lucy, still by the barbecue, still next to Dan, but staring straight at him. A small frown on her face. The slight widening of her eyes as her eyes shift, micro-expression style, from Gelly to Buck and back again. Hostile suspicion dawning in her gaze. Gelly shifts ever so slightly closer to Buck and watches his little sister's eyes narrow.

He slowly, deliberately, wraps his arm around Buck's waist. Lucy shakes her head at him, very slowly, mouthing an emphatic No. But Gelly is feeling the smug certainty of every sibling who has their mom on their side, as he gives Lucy a slow smile back.

[tuwam]

hehehe

@urianius

daniel doesn’t say anything. kihyun is often a ball of chaos so he doesn’t need to. in all the time they’ve lived together daniel can pick up on cues, on motions and definitely on the sound of scrambled steps and slammed doors. put kihyun and ahyeon together, and ahyeon’s typically collected state also becomes chaos. he’d barely had a word spoken to him since he’d walked in because they were flying across the apartment they all shared.

‘i’m gonna kil you.’ ‘if you kill me you won’t make it on time.’ ‘i’m gonna kill you because i won’t make it on time.’ ‘newsflash no one cares about attendance.’ ‘let’s see if your mother feels the same way.’

daniel’s sigh puts a noticeable ripple on the surface of his coffee. he’d arrived early enough from tour to set his things down and make coffee but not quite to introduce himself. he knew ahyeon would be up and about, but he didn’t expect the chaos to unfold as they awoke and ran out their rooms. then again, what really should he expect from the two of them anymore. she hasn’t quite noticed him yet, and he’s too amused to be hurt about it. he hasn’t been gone too long, but khiyun’s grown out his hair, and his suit’s are starting to fit better. and ahyeon, well, she doesn’t have to do much to take his breath away anyway.

“babe, your work bag and everything is on the counter, it was still on the coffee table. kihyun, your briefcase is by the shoe rack, you keep throwing it there when you get home.”

both culprits stop in their tracks, seconds from the other’s throat, and that’s when ahyeon graces him with a smile.

‘you’re home.’ “i’m home.”

she doesn’t however, get to him first because kihyun is launching himself at daniel’s frame. these days daniel swears he’s getting taller - or something, then he realizes midway into kihyun throwing arms around him:

“you’re wearing my boots - to work?” daniel knows kihyun’s mom has been more than thrilled that he’s taken over the curating at one of their bigger galleries in seoul, but kihyun’s still kihyun at the end of the day. that had been the trade off. so he goes with questionable fashion and fashionably late as his directing style.  ‘thanks for leaving them for me to borrow.’ even as they’ve grown kihyun is still as unashamed as ever. and daniel isn’t phased by it, instead he’s pulling the younger from his body so he can give the hug and kiss to the person he’d be waiting to. ahyeon falls into his arms with an audible sigh, and he can feel the smile against his t-shirt when his kisses fall to the top of her head. she’d just finished showering and clearly was in too much of a rush to fully dry her hair. nevertheless.

“stop wearing my cologne.” ‘as if---’ “not you, the one trying to sneak out with my coffee.” ‘not enough sugar and cream but thanks anyway, you’re the best!’ kihyun is out before daniel can grab him by the suit jacket. ahyeon’s giggle follows the sound of steps tumbling down the stairs of their flat.

‘hard to tell who’s happier you’re home.’ “your mug and lunchbox is already done.”

ahyeon’s eyes light up, though she often tries not to show how daniel’s home habits have translated into their relationship he can still catch a glimpse of the butterflies he knows are tickling inside her. it’s worth moments like this. and having kihyun around is also a way to see her light up and animate in ways she might not be so inclined if it were the two of them. but now it is and daniel’s been gone for quite a few months touring with a newer band and doing festivals. he’s home for a bit and really, truly:

‘don’t you take a step closer, you’re going to make me late.’ “aren’t you already late though? what no kiss or anything?’ ‘if you make me late you’ll be kissing your grave.’

she’s always so much fun like this. that’s why daniel hasn’t stopped moving closer, hasn’t stopped from resting his hands on her waist and lifting her right beside the lunchbox he’d prepared for her leave. 

“yeah? i can still get a few more in before i die.” their noses are inches apart, she smells fresh from her shampoo, and the blush across her nose is starting to become more noticeable. daniel’s smile is immediate, and wide, enough that he’s sure if he were closer his cheeks would brush hers. but he holds himself steady, hands now resting on the counter instead of her.

‘you two better not be doing anything in there!’ the front door bursts back open and daniel sees the two options fly past her face. one, tuck her face in his shirt all embarrassed and cute like - or and thank god for his reflexes. her eyes land on her mug full of steaming hot tea and he grabs it before she can hurl it at their flatmate. 'gasp, daniel you never lift me on the counter like that!’

"sleep with one eye open kihyun.” ‘i’ll leave my door cracked tonight!’

ahyeon’s groan echoes through the entire room. daniel laughs and moves back to allow her to slide down and grab her mug. 

“i’ll drive you to work how’s that?” ‘on your motorcycle?’ “no, i brought the company car - hanna - has the motorcycle...” ‘your sister has the ----’ “she told me some boy was offering to pick her up for dates on one - so i taught her to ride it a while back, and lent her mine.” ‘you lent your sister the motorcycle!’ “we’re going to be late babe!” ‘you lent her the motorcycle and not me?!’ kihyun’s voice comes ricocheting from the batroom. “keep talking and i won’t drop you off either kihyun.”

like clockwork, daniel’s the last to leave, his cup of coffee now lukewarm and grabbing the very briefcase and lunchbox he knows his flatmates will leave since they’re at each other’s throats again. it’s really a good thing he knows them so well and brought the company car instead. it’s a bit of a hassle but - this is the morning he’s been missing. 

[motownfiction]

on the street where you live

Will wakes up at six on Sunday morning. He rolls over in bed to see Lucy curled in on herself, careful not to make any contact with him. He smiles. Even when she’s asleep, she’s determined to prove a point. Never has a man so admired a woman – or anybody.

He gets out of bed as delicately as he can and figures he’ll grab a coffee. Usually, he’d make some in the kitchen, but he’s not sure Lucy wants to see him yet. Still, before he goes, he leaves her a note. He doesn’t want her to picture those bright ambulance lights ever again.

Going to get coffee. Call if you need anything. Or if you need me. - W

He makes it to the front porch of the building and starts to turn left toward the coffeeshop he prefers. He doesn’t make it fifty feet away from the door. Before he can really begin the trek, he runs right into Sadie, sleepily coming up the sidewalk.

“Hey!” Will says. “Am I back home, or are you in New York?”

“I’m in New York,” Sadie says with exhaustion in every breath.

“Thought so. C’mere.”

He wraps Sadie up in a tight hug, and she sighs over his shoulder. Just what she needed.

“Hey, friend,” Sadie says.

“Hey, yourself,” Will says. “What are you doing here?”

Sadie looks at him and swallows the lump in her throat. She looks just like she did when they were still kids. She looks like Sam. But it doesn’t hurt. Sadie looks like Sam, but it’s good. She’s the best reminder that Sam was real – that he’s alive even now that he’s dead.

“Um, I’m here to see you, actually,” Sadie says. “I hope that’s OK.”

Will sighs and pulls Sadie in for another hug. He didn’t realize how much he missed her.

“Of course it’s OK,” he says. “Where’s Daniel? Parking the car? Being mistaken for a child actor? Again?”

Sadie laughs warmly.

“No, he’s home with the kids,” she says. “It’s just me.”

“Oh,” Will says. “And you’re here to see me?”

“I am.”

“Hmm. You know, I know somebody who’s gonna be pretty jealous of that. Maybe you know her, too. Short, busty, bossy, possibly named after Satan?”

Sadie laughs again. It sounds like home in a way Will thought he was afraid of.

“OK, maybe I’m here to see Lucy, too,” Sadie says. “I do like her better than anyone.”

“That sounds more like it.”

“But I thought … I thought you might be the only person in the world who could really help me.”

Will inhales and holds it there for a long time. He should have known. Even when he wants to forget about the accident, it always has a way of finding him.

“I’m listening,” he says.

Sadie tries to smile, but instead, it all comes out like tears. Will tries to hug her again, but she keeps him away. Not now. She has to be strong.

“Sam died, and now, I’m not me anymore,” she blurts. “And I thought … I thought maybe you’d know what that was like.”

Will’s heart pauses in his chest. He thinks back to what he said in Charlie and Carrie’s apartment not even twelve hours ago.

I wasn’t me.

Sadie was the person he’d needed to talk to all this time. And yet, he hadn’t – because he didn’t think he deserved to; because he didn’t think he’d earned the right to mourn Sam as she did. But here she is, standing right in front of him, with teary eyes and a hopeful smile. She’s the same girl who got stuck in the bathroom stall on their first day of kindergarten and the same woman who stood up in his quickie courthouse wedding. Sadie has always been Lucy’s best friend. Will can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realize she’s always been his best friend, too.

“Come on,” Will says and cups his hand back toward the porch. “Come on.”

Sadie follows Will up the steps without a word.

“You really get it?” she asks. “You’re not just inviting me up so you can talk some sense into me?”

Will stops, turns around, and looks Sadie dead in the eye. He needs to make sure she hears this – really hears it.

“Sadie, I’ve been teaching boxing classes and volunteering for other people’s school fundraisers just so I don’t have to be upset about Sam,” he says. “I couldn’t talk sense into you if I wanted to.”

Sadie bites her tongue to keep from laughing. That’s Will – the same boy who downed an entire can of Sprite in one gulp to impress the girl he had a crush on, only to suffer a wretched stomach ache for three hours afterward. He gets it. He always has.

She follows him into the building, and for the first time since December, she doesn’t feel guilty for breathing.

[whirlybirbs]

         (  chapter 6′s gif by @buckysbarnes​​ from this lovely set !  )

✪   —   VACANT MIRRORS  ;  B.B.  |  6/?

summary: gunshot wounds, panic attacks, and evil next door neighbors.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 5.3k, a filler before the real sexual tension.

a/n: be warned, this chapter has a diy medical procedure where bucky removes the slug from rabbit’s shoulder. it’s nothing too graphic, but keep that in mind! also, i wanted to say thank you to everyone who has rec’d, reblogged, commented, kudos, liked, looked at this fic. the response to every chapter has been so overwhelmingly kind and i’m so thankful that i have the oppurtunity to share this fic with you all. that being said, i broke this chapter up. next week has some spice. ;-)

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Bucky wakes up with a headache that feels like someone’s tapped an icepick between his eyes. A fire-bright burn radiates under his ribs.

It’s a slow creep back to reality — he just lays there and stares at the peeling wallpaper that meets the corner of the ceiling for a while, knowing deep in the back of his muddled, confused thoughts that he most likely has a nasty concussion, maybe a few broken ribs.

How? Hm. Fighting. Music? The club.

Rabbit.

He sits up fast and Bucky’s blue eyes struggle to adjust in the low-light of the scarcely furnished apartment. The searing pang of his headache is enough to make his stomach churn, but he’s had worse. So much worse. This is manageable. So, he swallows down the nausea and looks around the room like a wounded animal — and almost immediately, relief greets him at the sight of you in the armchair across from the couch.

Your hair is a mess, falling from it’s previous style that you’d proudly worn to The Glass Cannon. Your lipstick is smeared, there’s glitter on your cheeks, and your make-up has transitioned from starlet beauty to broken-hearted bombshell. Bucky notices, with a bit of dismay, that you’re even missing an earring. There’s a nasty bruise forming along the peak of your cheekbone and a gash there from when Alexei had cracked you across the face with the pistol — and even despite all this, Bucky can feel his heart clench at the sight of you. A good clench. The sort that makes his heart kick into a stutter step.

You look… well, you look like someone who’d had the shit choked out of them and then was shot.

Shot.

Your jacket, punched clean through with the single bullet hole, is hanging over the back of the chair and there’s gauze taped to your shoulder. You’re leaning your good cheek in your hand, attention turned totally to Bucky, where you’ve fallen asleep. From here, you’re a picture of exhaustion.

Anxiety flashes in his heart and he swings his legs over the edge of the couch.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Take it easy.”

It’s the woman from before, Kiwi, and she’s got an ice pack in her hands. It’s wrapped in a ratty, green dish towel, and she hands it off to Bucky with a pitiful little look. Rounding the couch, Bucky finally gets a better look at her.

She’s older than you, maybe by a handful of years, but sharp and beautiful nonetheless. Her hair is dark as night and the tips are drenched in a lime colored dye. Her eyes are dark, too, ringed by kohl and glitter, and Bucky wonders if he’s ever seen her before.

“You heal quick,” she says quietly as she plops down into the chair across the room. On a makeshift desk, there’s a laptop, “Care to explain how you know our dear friend Rabbit here?”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. Again, his eyes fall on your sleeping form.

He maneuvers the ice pack in his hands, then gently presses it to his ribs. He melts a bit, ignoring the evident tears in the silk shirt. He feels bad — he’d busted some of the seams in the midst of the brutal scuffle and it seems like this artifact of Jaimie’s was most likely beyond salvation.

His dog tags jingle against his chest.

“Therapy,” Bucky croaks, “We, uh, we met in therapy.”

A new voice comes into the picture now, one that’s muffled by a mouthful of food.

“That’s cute.”

It’s the other one, Climber. He’s traded in his all-black, all-polyurethane outfit for an expensive looking t-shirt. Without the strobes, without the tunnel vision, Bucky can now see the intricate buzz cut that sits beneath the mountain of blue curls on his head. There are patterns buzzed into his tight-shave. He’s got a smile, too, the glimmers a little too artificially. Bucky spies crystals inset on his incisors between bites of what looks like a bowl of cereal with no milk. Spoon and all.

“I don’t think we’ve properly met,” Climber says as he plops down next to Bucky on the couch, “What’d you say your name was?”

A hand is jutted his way. Bucky blinks. He shakes it with his vibranium hand.

“I’m Bucky.”

“Well, I’m gay and you’re gorgeous,” he says candidly, giving it a good shake, “So, if that’s of any interest—”

“Can you please shut up, Climber?” comes an irritated rasp from you in your armchair. Bucky turns to watch as you raise your head and rub your eyes, “Christ, I just fell asleep.”

“And your little supersoldier just woke up,” Kiwi chirps from her preoccupation with the laptop and contents on it, “So why don’t you stop being a little baby and let him look at that gunshot wound.”

Bucky’s face falls flat. He drops the ice pack to the coffee table with a thwunk.

You sit up, gingerly trying to maneuver yourself so as to not bother both your ribs and your shoulder. It takes a moment, but finally you’re sitting up with only a dull ache of pain throbbing beneath your skin. Now, the real sting comes from the bitter look Bucky has pinned you with.

“You haven’t cleaned it yet?”

“The shits in the kitchen,” Kiwi waves at Bucky, as if to say told you so, “She fuckin’ refused to let me take care of it.”

“You’re going to get an infection if it stays in you any longer,” he snaps, standing to his feet, “Get up.”

“Kiwi isn’t exactly the most gentle person I know,” you manage to supply as an excuse as you move through the room, “And I know that thing isn’t coming out without a fight.”

He can feel the grey hairs coming in already.

You stand slowly, and Bucky looms behind you as you weave into the small apartment’s kitchen.

It’s barely lived in, but a few years ago it most definitely had life. Now, it’s mostly abandoned save for a few necessities. Kiwi had told you, a long time ago, about this spot — it was her parent’s place before the Snap. After the Blip, they ended up moving back to Massachusetts. Now abandoned by anyone seeking to really live in the one bedroom, it sits collecting dust until Kiwi inevitably needs it.

Like now.

“Up on the counter.”

You wince at his tone, but still thankful to be away from Kiwi and Climber’s prying eyes.

For the entire time Bucky had been out, you’d been subjected to a myriad of questions — all were fair, really, since Bucky did just bust out the Avenger-level super-moves on some Russian mafiosos for your sake, vibranium arm and all. The arm was really the biggest stuck point in the conversation as you tried your best to explain the nature of your relationship with the unconscious supersoldier on the couch. It was met with plenty of looks, both curious and skeptical.

You’re slow to hop up on the dusty marble countertop. From there, you watch Bucky poke through the kit that Kiwi had pulled from under the sink.

Then, with the calculated process of a man who has pulled one too many bullets from himself, Bucky slams the kit shut and wanders into the bathroom.

He returns with a pair of large tweezers. He’s silent as the dead as he rummages for a pan, fills it with water, and sets the gas burner on. He stares, watching the pot boil, as his foot taps against the floor.

You swallow down any comments.

There’s a clean towel beside you, and Bucky casually reached into the boiling water with his vibranium hand to retrieve the tweezers — whether or not he purposely ignored the pain is lost on you. You’re too busy anxiously spiraling into silence.

(He’s trying to ground himself, to feel something other than panic. It’s a mild spike, but it’s still panic. Because you’re hurt. Because you still have a fucking casing lodged in your shoulder and he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. Ever. Because he saw it happen and then it was black, and now that anxiousness is creeping in.)

Rubbing alcohol, tweezers, gauze, tape, and… Jack Daniel’s.

It’s from the top of the fridge. It’s got a layer of dust on it — and it’s unopened.

Bucky unceremoniously pops the cap and hands the open bottle to you.

You take it and pause.

Bucky’s gaze is cold.

“You’re gonna want to take a few swigs, Doll.”

You almost snarl. You take a long drink then, ignoring the burn of the whiskey down your throat. It’s only when you’ve had enough to nearly gag that you hand the bottle back and then hiss:

“Don’t call me Doll.”

He takes the bottle and unceremoniously slams it down on the counter.

His movements are rough as he washes his hands — and if Bucky was a better person, maybe he’d take a second and parse through why he was feeling so damn irritable. But, no, no, he could figure out that he was angry at himself and you and Alexei Gardzov and Innessa Sidrova and fucking… everyone because he can’t have any normal relationships in his life without there being bloodshed or pain or suffering. That was enough, and he didn’t want to dig deeper into the nipping fear of losing you, not now, not when he had a job to do—

You suck in a sharp breath when his fingers brush your collarbone. He gently moves the delicate strap of your bodysuit, ignoring the soft skin beneath, and pulls the gauze away from your shoulder.

Your jacket had taken most of the impact it seems. Bucky frowns deeply at the pink fibers clinging to the entry wound. It’s a nasty puckered bit of flesh, smeared with blood, right in the soft muscle of your left shoulder. The hole is a little smaller than a quarter — Bucky recognizes it as shot from a 9mm almost immediately. He’s taken a few of these in his days. He’s glad it wasn’t close range. The burns from the muzzle flash make for nasty scars. He’d know. He has one on his back, right above his hip.

Bucky’s jaw is tight. He’s gritting his back teeth. His headache throbs angrily behind his eyes.

Bucky leans, eyeing the wound carefully. His limited reaction is enough to spark a little light of bravery in your gut, and you move to look at the hole — only to find a vibranium hand rooting your jaw in place. It’s gentle enough as it recorrects the line of your gaze straight ahead. His thumb rests on the curve of your chin as his index climbs your jaw, and the vibranium is warm and cold all at once. It’s an odd sensation. Not bad, but not flesh.

You like it.

(You find your mind quickly flashing with the thought of what that hand would feel like in other places. You ignore it.)

Your eyes are stuck on Bucky.

He’s clearly upset — the pinch between his brows and the evident scowl on his lips is enough of an indication. The bridge of his nose is busted and there’s a bruise crawling under his left eye. The shirt you’d given him is a wreck, and as he bends to snatch up a rubbing alcohol soaked pad, the feeling of shame creeps up on you. The anxiousness that’s settled in the pit of your stomach doesn’t help.

Arguably, it exacerbates the symptom.

The whiskey is slow to make an impact.

But, when Bucky finally swipes the gauze across the wound, your ankles have begun to tingle and it isn’t blinding white pain you feel — not yet. It’s sharp and it feels like he’s touching your shoulder blade when he presses his fingers into the holes to clean the immediate area. That has you grimacing tightly.

His obsidian-hued hand holds your face still through it.

So, you opt to stare.

His arm reminds you of some pottery you’d seen back at the Museum of Modern Art once, on a school trip. In a dimly lit room, spotlights lit up a row of vases that had been gilded back together with gold-dusted sap. You’d sat there for nearly an hour, staring at those things. You can’t remember the name now, not while Bucky does one more pass across the wound. It started with a ‘k’. It was beautiful. You loved that exhibit. Why can’t you — fuck — remember the name? Kinsi… kinsigumi? Gumi. Kintsi —

You grit your teeth and grip the counter tightly. He pauses. You exhale.

You inhale.

Kintsugi.

The seams of his arm remind you of Kintsugi.

It’s beautiful.

Bucky’s eyes flit to yours. He sees your stare.

Maybe it’s the pain, or the half-cocked daze, but the look in your eyes is enough to spur an immediate reaction. Bucky scowls. He yanks his hand back, retreating to the supplies on the counter. He’s pulled, hard and fast, and now he seems miles away.

Quietly, and with a bit more chill than he intended, he speaks. “If it was making you nervous, you should have said something.”

It.

Your head snaps to him.

“What?” you ask, nearly incredulously.

He’s silent. He has the tweezers in his hand now.

Your eyes narrow critically — and instead of shame and anxiety, it’s hurt that flies off your tongue. It’s drenched in enough pain that Bucky hears it in the waver of your voice.

“You think I’m afraid of you?”

It’s nearly a whisper.

He swallows.

He ignores it. He has to. He doesn’t want to know the answer. Either way that conversation goes is enough to drag him into territory he can’t handle right now. Not when he needs to do this without his hands shaking.

“This is going to hurt.”

Your mouth is open — be it shock or anger, he’s not sure. Bucky, however, makes a point of ignoring your expression and your reaction by handing over the whiskey once more. You snatch it from his hands quickly. There’s a look on your face that makes his chest ache. With one last pass over him with your eyes, you take a long swig.

You feel like crying.

You won’t, though. Not now. Not while he does this.

You deserve this.

And holy fucking hell does it hurt. It’s like someone’s taken a hot poker and punctured your skin, then rotated it around and around and around. You can feel every time the tweezers touch the bullet because the metallic little click echoes in your chest. It’s enough to make your head spin, and you grit your teeth and close your eyes and try to breathe — but even after a handful of minutes, when Bucky finally retrieves the slug, there’s no relief. Just a desperate throb.

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the whiskey once more.

You do cry, finally, when Bucky packs the hole.

He rolls the gauze up tightly into a cylinder and, as gently as he can, pushes it in.

It’s a horrible choke of pain that you smother into your palm and pant through. It reminds you to breathe, and while you stare up at the water damage on the kitchen ceiling, Bucky tapes a square piece of gauze over the bruised wound and wraps your shoulder tightly. He takes his time, but there’s a curtness to his actions.

Finally, when he begins to clean up the mess of bloodied gauze, you speak.

“If you’re mad at me, then just say it.”

He snaps almost immediately, like a kicked dog. “And say what, Rabbit? That I almost lost you?”

Your mouth slips shut.

Bucky pauses what he’s doing. He drops the gauze onto the towel and he bares both hands against the counter top. He leans and exhales and drops his own head back — then, you can see his own waves of anxiety knocking him against the shore of composure. His eyes move back and forth, he inhales, and then after a long while he speaks.

It’s calmer. Not so horribly mean.

“You should have told me about Alexei.”

You go to speak — but he stops you.

“I mean really, really told me,” he explains, “Had I known he wanted your fucking head mounted on a spike, I would have kept you far away from that place.”

“We had to—”

“No,” he says sternly, standing up full height, “No, we didn’t. We never have to do anything that’s going to put you in danger. Never. I won’t do it again. You should have fuckin’ told me.”

You’re quiet.

“A few more inches to the right,” he says, gesturing to your throat with his finger. His eyes are expressive and he’s speaking like he’s lived this experience, “You’d be dead. Cold and dead and I’d be here, carrying the fucking guilt around with me because I wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”

His voice splinters at the end — but he’s moved to throw away the gauze and dump the tweezers in the sink. He can’t look at you as he says it, and you know that. Because, just like before, people like you and him have a hard time looking the truth in the eyes.

You slide off the counter.

Your heart is sad. It’s heavy and mournful and weighed down with guilt.

“Bucky.”

It’s soft. He’s scrubbing your blood from his hands.

He doesn’t turn around. He can’t. He can feel the prick of an anxious breakdown beginning to climb into his eyes. Instead, he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs and your blood is stuck in the plating of his hand and it’s not going to come out—

Think of what could have happened if it had been a few inches to the right. The arched spray. Blood everywhere. She can’t speak through the gargle, she’s going cold, she’s gone. And, like always, you’re alone again, Bucky.

Then, your hands are on his.

The touch is enough to stop him. It’s enough for him to move aside at the large, inset kitchen sink. You exhale slowly as you run the water a little warmer and gingerly run his hands under the tap. Your hands are smaller than his, a bit more delicate, and he’s stunned into a sharp silence at the feeling of your fingertips gently washing away the crimson blood.

You grab another dish towel from a drawer beside the stove.

Then, in the dim light of the kitchen, you take both his hands and dry them.

It’s the vibranium hand that you pay special attention to, though. And Bucky feels like a fucking idiot — just standing there, just watching as you run the rag between the gilded plating and use gentle pressure to get into the harder to reach spots. You turn it over, and you dry his knuckles.

You take your time.

You don’t look up when you speak. You’re focused. Almost reverent.

He doesn’t deserve this.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you say sternly.

His mouth is dry. “Rabbit…”

Bucky shifts on his feet and takes a deep inhale. He feels lightheaded.

The whiskey, and the closeness of the two of you, makes your skin warm. His whole nervous system feels like it’s on fire.

“I didn’t mean to stare, I don’t ever mean to,” you apologize as your hands still over his arm. He watches your irises trace the plating above his wrist. The rag is forgotten, its purpose null. Your words are heavy, and Bucky can hear a little shake in them as you swallow, “I just… think it’s beautiful.”

You’re beautiful.

Even now, blood-soaked and sweat-stained. With makeup running down your cheeks and your composure in shambles. Even now, on the run and apparently wanted, you’re incredibly beautiful. Bucky hates how easy it is to admit and how hard it is to keep off his tongue. It nearly gets the better of him. He watches your eyelashes flutter. When you look up at him, the world is suddenly drowned in honey.

“I’m sorry.”

You mean it.

Your bottom lip wobbles.

Bucky, immediately, regrets being so goddamn cold.

You were just trying to help — you were just trying to do the right thing.

“Stop it. Come here.”

The hug is the first time you can remember touching him like this. You think you’ll always remember it, too. It’s sturdy and warm and gentle and honest and you bury your face into the shoulder as his arms come up around your neck. He’s careful of your own injured shoulder, and his fingers find the base of your neck. Around his waist, your fingers dig into the back of his shirt. Both of you ground yourselves in the other’s arms, and for the first time in a handful of hours, you both find peace.

Quiet, sturdy, lovely peace.

And the two of you stay like that for a while in the quiet little kitchen.

It’s not until Climber’s voice rises from the living room that you’re pulled away from Bucky — and even then, your face linger inches from one another for a moment too long. Neither of you say a word, only swallow down confessions that could have been, and move on.

“Oh, girlie, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

Bucky frowns. With your brows knotted tightly together, you weave through the kitchen and back into the living room.

Kiwi has sat up and both her and Climber have their eyes on the bulky flat screen on the dust-covered entertainment center. It’s cable news, and as Climber leans to turn the television up, a picture of you flashes across the screen.

It’s a photo from your arrest six months ago.

“Local authorities are asking that anyone with information on the whereabouts of this young woman call the FBI’s anonymous tip line—”

“Is there a reward?” Climber whispers almost excitedly, eyes on the screen.

“—Authorities are offering $100,000 dollars to the person who provides enough information to lead up to this dangerous fugitive’s capture.”

“Dangerous fugitive?” hisses Bucky.

“A hundred thousand dollars?” cries Kiwi, “Who the fuck did you piss off?”

You inhale deeply as you wave your hands. “The bigger question is who the fuck knew I was going to The Glass Cannon last night. Because they’re looking for me — not you.”

You point at Bucky and the gears are turning in your head.

The pacing is almost immediate, and Bucky crosses his arms tightly as you begin to walk back and forth behind the full length couch that Climber is currently spread out on.

It’s cut short, though, by Kiwi’s laptop chiming successfully.

“Well,” she stands quickly, “I have a feeling that someone knows you’re onto them. And the facial recognition software just got a match. A three point one, too.”

Your eyes brighten.

You’d given Kiwi the photo of the young Innessa, with all her decorated furs and blonde curls. She’s laughing and she’s young and she’s in love and it’s hard for you to imagine a woman like her to be dangerous. While you’d made sure Bucky was propped up comfortably on the couch and then finally calmed down from the adrenaline high enough to get comfortable yourself, Kiwi had dug out the hard-drive she kept on her at all times and began pulling data from the Alexandria Library files.

It had been a handful of hours, so it was clear that Innessa had hid herself well in the vast, expansive database SHIELD kept for all those years while it was in operation.

Bucky is quick to gather behind Kiwi, eyes scanning the screen.

Sure enough, when you come to look at the photos pulled up on Kiwi’s screen, there’s a hit. There’s an identification card photo of an older woman, maybe in her forties, pulled up alongside the photo Bucky had given you. Her hair is no longer blonde, but deep auburn color. She’s marked as having worked with Rumlow — a supervisor of some sort. Makes sense. You didn’t need to see a picture of Crossbones to remember Brock. Even when you’d interned, he’d been infamous.

And that was when he was one of the good guys.

There’s a handful of other photos of her — candids, professional photos, and even one where she is shaking Tony Stark’s hand.

And in all of them, you see your next door neighbor Bonnie McLayne.

“Fuck.”

Bucky blinks. Kiwi turns to look at you over her shoulder.

Again, you speak. Your eyes are wide. You can’t look away from the screen.

“Fuck, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Rabbit…?”

“Fuck.”

Bucky’s face narrows considerably, confusion melting to make room for realization.

His voice is quiet.

“Do you know her?”

“Oh my god,” you say loudly, shaking your head and blinking, “Oh my fucking god, that’s my neighbor.”

Bucky can feel his whole face go clammy.

“The neighbor who—”

“—Who I showed your fucking picture to,” you nearly shriek, “Like it was some cute little matchmaking game!”

Immediately both hands are over your face as you throw your head back. Now, the pacing has begun, and like you’re being carried on autopilot, you begin to move back and forth and back and forth and—

“You don’t think she’d hurt Poke, do you?”

“Rabbit.”

“Oh god, oh god—”

Oh.

Oh, you’re having a panic attack.

Oh, that was quick. Brutally fast. Nearly immediate.

After all, she knows where your family lives. She gets Holiday cards from mom to give to you. She’s been your closest friend for nearly six years. But she’s not Bonnie, she’s Innessa fucking Sidrova. She’s seen you with Bucky. She knows — she knows a lot and you don’t know anything and you’re miles from home, from Poke, from Mom, from Ana… Oh, god, the baby. The baby.

“The baby.”

Bucky’s voice is level. “Rabbit, you gotta calm down.”

“I have to call my mom.”

“No,” Kiwi snaps immediately, “They’re going to be watching for your cell phone pings. No calls, no texting, none of it. And god forbid this woman is one step ahead of the FBI—”

“Oh, god.”

You gasp like a fish out of water, paralyzing fear sending you to lean against the back of the couch.

You claw at your chest and try to remember what Dr. Hart said about these sorts of moments. Square breathing. In and hold and out and hold. Again and again.  

“Sit down,” Bucky says as he returns to your side, nearly sweeping you up long enough to plop you down into the armchair from before, “And do me a favor and breathe.”

The whiskey isn’t helping right now.

“I’m trying.”

Another gasped breath.

Climber and Kiwi watch.

Bucky shakes his head sternly, kneeling on one knee and snagging your hands. “Don’t try. Just do it. You can do it. Just follow my lead — you’re the sidekick, after all. Remember? C’mon. There’s the smile. Breathe.”

So you do.

In, hold. Out, hold. You draw a square with one hand on your jeans and hold onto Bucky’s with the other.

Again, in and hold. Out and hold.

And again.

And then, you just listen to Bucky’s breathing.

You’re not sure how long it takes — half an hour, ten minutes, who knows — but finally you’re able to calm the spiraling thoughts in your head. Finally, the loudness quiets down, you catch your breath, and the world isn’t falling apart. The bite of anxiety still remains in the hollow of your chest and Bucky can see that when you finally open your eyes and squeeze his hand.

There’s that look again between the two of you. The one from before, in the kitchen.

“Good?” he asks quietly, blue eyes swimming with some sort of emotion you can’t really pin down. Not now. Maybe, if you’d been a bit more collected, you would have seen it as infatuation. But, no. It’s just… nice.

You swallow and nod.

“Damn, girl,” says Climber from his spot on the couch, “Now I’m starting to get the whole therapy thing.”

“Thanks, dickhead.”

“That’s recent, isn’t it?” he asks, genuine worry crossing his face as he stands to gently pass a hand over your back, “I don’t remember it ever being this bad.”

Your face is sad. “I was just partying through it back then. Distraction was always the best method and then… When I had no more distractions and it was just me? Alone? And, psh, the accident with Jaimie? It got worse. So much worse.”

Climber’s eyes soften. “I’m sorry, bunny.”

You try to put on a brave face.

Bucky stands from in front of you and begins his own pacing. This one isn’t so much born out of anxious nature — but more of a tactical logic born out of keeping you safe.

This wasn’t exactly the turn he was expecting.

“You didn’t recognize her?” he asks after a moment, voice high and tight.

“I’m sorry,” you wave a hand, exasperated, “She doesn’t exactly look the same as she did in the 70s.”

Kiwi frowns at the screen. “Definitely botox.”

Bucky squints. He looks to you for an explanation.

You vaguely gesture to your face.

His brow lifts, he closes his eyes, and he sighs.

Kiwi is next to pipe up. “It explains why the feds are looking for you, especially if she saw you with the one man she knows is looking to hunt her down — so, I think it’s best the both of you lay low for a couple of days.”

“Not to mention,” Climber wags a finger, “Bucky the Babe over here did just piss off one the smaller Russian crime families in New York. So, there’s always that ontop of the evil Nazi-HYDRA-woman-next-door.”

You groan.

“Poke has enough food for a week,” Bucky says nearly reading your mind, “He’ll be fine.”

“So, what? We just wait here? Until something happens?”

“Sidrova is going to try and bait us out,” Bucky mutters, “She knows she can’t just disappear. She’s been settled for too long and we know too much. Engaging us in an altercation is how she’ll do it. Plus, I have a feeling she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to shoot me in the knees after a few decades. So, we wait.”

“Few decades?” Kiwi whispers.

“How old are you?” Climber asks.

“Hundred and six.”

Both of them just blink at an unphased Bucky.

You sigh, finally standing on wobbly legs. “This feels like a bad idea. I’m just stating that for the record.”

“Better than her hunting the both of you down,” Kiwi supplies, “You can stay here. There’s cable, there’s booze, and there’s plenty of instant ramen to last you until winter.”

“Stale cereal, too.”

“Wait— where are you two going?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, “You’re leaving?”

“Keeping our hands clean,” Kiwi says, closing her laptop, “And letting you be the sidekick, bunny.”

The sadness in your heart grows a little heavier at those words, but there’s a little bit of pride in Kiwi’s tone. As she stands, she moves to wrap her arms around you in a gentle hug. Quietly, she murmurs into your hair.

“Your dad would be proud of you, y’know.”

Bucky watches.

Climber is next, and that hug is bigger, more brotherly, more like sunshine and less like autumn.

“Don’t be a stranger, Rabbit.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out as the two of them gather their belongings, “For dragging you both into this. But, thank you. You didn’t have to help me—”

“Yeah, we did,” Kiwi chirps as she knocks Bucky on the arm three times, “Keep her safe, aakarshak purush.”

The Hindi rolls off her tongue with ease.

Bucky laughs. “Bahut lamba.”

Kiwi pauses mid-step. She narrows her eyes. There’s a smile on her lips. “Your pronunciation isn’t bad.”

He shrugs plainly. “I get lunch almost everyday at the Indian place below my apartment, so. The owner has been teaching me some stuff on the side.”

An approving nod.

Kiwi hucks you the keys across the room.

She points at Bucky.

“I like him. Try not to fuck that up, eh?”

And then, the two of them are gone.

And it’s just you and Bucky in the empty apartment.

[danielxricciardo]

Hi girl!! I love everything you’ve wrote! Couldn’t say how much I enjoyed reading one shots of F1 drivers! I have to ask if you could do one for Carlos? He and reader are expecting but keeping it secret, Carlos won the race! And he ask if he could hear her through radio, though with some glitch, all other drivers and teams hear Carlos’ radio, he tells her how he’s so happy with the win but more than anything about their little one on the way and now everyone knows the secret of pregnancy because he suddenly slipped it while talking to her on radio���🏻 I can’t imagine how will other drivers will congratulate him (like Daniel, Max, Landooooo! Seb! And even Kimi!🤣) I think Lando will be overjoyed and will be presenting to be Godfather already Hahahaha!

Summary: Having a baby and everybody finding out

Warnings: fluff

Word count: 1.5k

You realized that you were pregnant after a series of fortunate events that, individually, you did not take as alarm signals.

One evening, Carlos decided to spare you from cooking dinner and ordered your favorite food from your favorite restaurant. You were very excited to eat it, but when the food arrived you were on the verge of throwing up because of the smell. You told Carlos you couldn't eat, so you just ate an apple and went to bed. The next day, after Carlos left for the gym, you couldn't get away from the toilet because if you took a few steps you would feel like throwing up. However, when your boyfriend came home, you didn't feel so sick anymore, but you didn't tell him what happened to you because you didn't want to worry him.

You had a vague idea that you could be pregnant but you wanted to wait until Carlos leaves for France for the Grand Prix.

The day he left you went to the pharmacy and bought two pregnancy tests.

Positive.

You just sat down and cried. You stared at the positive test for several minutes. Honestly, you were so hormonal and conflicted about the timing that you bawled your eyes out. You were both happy and worried. Carlos was busy with his Formula 1 career, you didn't know if it was appropriate to add a child to the dynamics of your life.

But you recovered immediately. You are talking about Carlos, of course, he will be happy to have a child with you. You've been together for four years, you knew you would be together for the rest of your life.

The next day you did another pregnancy test, just in case. Positive, obviously. You went to the pharmacy again, and you took four more tests, to do one every day until Carlos came home.

"Hey, honey. I missed you," says Carlos entering the house.

You didn't even let him take off his shoes. You handed him a gift box in which you put the six pregnancy tests you took.

"Amor, did I forget an anniversary?"

You nod.

"Open it."

You see him take the lid off the box and take out a pregnancy test. Then another one, and another one, until he took them all out. You could see it on his face, he was scared and overwhelmed.

"Seriously?" he asks.

You nod and bite your lip, a few tears run down your face.

"Amor, that's wonderful! Ay Dios Mio! Are we going to be parents?"

You laugh and kiss him long.

"Yes, we will be parents."

You have scheduled an appointment for the next day to confirm the pregnancy and determine how many weeks you are pregnant. It looks like you're 10 weeks pregnant, so that means month 3 of your pregnancy. You couldn't believe that for almost 3 months you didn't realize you were pregnant, but you always had an irregular cycle, so it's not really incomprehensible.

You and Carlos have decided not to announce publicly that you will have a child just yet. For now, you were happy to share the news with your families, wanting to plan a nice way to tell your friends as well.

You know that feeling you get at certain times of the month when you want to cry at every cheesy commercial or could explode with anger at the drop of a hat? Pregnancy is like that sometimes, except 10 times more intense. With your new hormones raging, and more stress in your life than ever before, what with getting a nursery together and preparing to welcome the precious baby into the world and all, emotions are high. Tempers are bound to flare.

That is how you felt sitting in the paddock with Carlos who was preparing for the race. He was starting from P3 so he was pretty excited and nervous for the race. He saw your state, he knew you too well.

"Ay, mi Amor, come here," he said and hugged you to calm your nerves. "Don't worry, ok? It's an easy race, I'm gonna win it for you and the little bean, ok?"

You giggle at the sound of Carlos's nickname for the baby. You kiss him and smile.

"You know I don't really care about winning. Just come back to us. Safe." you say, your voice barely a whisper, not wanting anyone around you to hear your discussion.

"Si, pequeña. Always."

Sure, you were always concerned when he was racing. But especially now when your hormones were driving you insane and you were growing another person in your body. But you trusted him. With all of your heart. If he said he will come back to you, he will.

It took you a few moments to understand what was happening. Carlos Oñoro was hugging you, yelling 'He won!' and you looked at the screens in front of you. He did. Carlos Sainz was the winner in Monza! He kept his word, he won for you and your child.

"Hey, Y/N!" you hear your name being called by Riccardo Adami, the race engineer of Carlos. "The winner wants to talk to you."

You giggle and go to him. 'The winner'... Has a nice ring to it.

"Hey, baby! Congratulations!" you say excitedly over the radio.

"Si, mi amor! I told you I'm gonna win for our baby! I love you both so much!"

What you didn't know was that there was a glitch over the radio and every driver heard Carlos talking about 'your baby'.

"Aaa, guys? Why am I hearing Carlos over the radio talking about a baby?" Charles asked his race engineer.

"There's a glitch. Come to the garage."

"A baby?!" Lando yells into the radio, making his race engineer flinch. "Was that Carlos saying he is going to have a baby? Oh my God!"

You were waiting for Carlos to come out of his car, being absolutely clueless about the hysteria you two just caused. Carlos was just about to get his helmet out when all the drivers came to you two, yelling congratulations to you both. You looked at Carlos. Did he tell someone about your pregnancy? Did you give it away?

"Uh, thank you but how did you find out?" Carlos asked, clueless as you.

"We heard it over the radio," Kimi responds giving you a genuine smile.

"This is not how I wanted you guys to find out," Carlos said and put an arm over your shoulders, kissing your head. "But, yeah, it is true, we are having a baby."

"Mate, you're having a baby! That is so crazy! You are basically a baby!" Daniel says and hugged you both.

"And who is the godfather?" Lando asked and everyone laughed.

"We just found out two weeks ago, there are still five months to think about it," you say and bit your lip and Lando pouts. "You'll be considered, Lando."

After three months you decided to have a gender reveal for your family and friends. You could have had it a lot sooner but you wanted to be at an appropriate time for everyone. All the drivers came, as well as your family and Carlos's too. You made everyone wear a piece of clothing according to the gender they think your baby is. You were surprised to see the majority of the people being team boy, but as Lewis said 'They just want to make sure the third generations of Sainz is coming in Formula 1' and you know he was right.

"Look, listen to me, I have three kids, ok? I know, for a fact, by the way you are carrying that it is a girl!" Sebastian said and you laughed. He was wearing his pink T-shirt with pride, being 100% sure he is right.

He was.

You were having a girl and you could swear that Carlos cried a little when he saw the pink confetti. He hugged you for a few minutes, being still in shock.

"Una niña pequeña..." he whispered in your ear. "I am not ready."

You laughed and kissed him.

"You are gonna be the best dad ever, don't worry."

"No, I know that. I am not ready for her to date! And she'll go to university, no..."

"Carlos, she is not even been born yet! You have plenty of time to spend with her."

"Hi, guys, sorry to interrupt!" Lando appears near the two of you, making you break apart from your hug. "Did you think about the godfather or... or this is not a good time to ask?"

Everyone heard him and started laughing.

"Mate, remember the bag I gave you when you arrived?" Carlos asked him and Lando nodded. "You can look inside the bag now."

Lando got the bag and inside was a white romper saying 'Will you be my godfather?'

Lando looked at the romper with tears in his eyes.

"Well, if you insist..."