#and he's so fucking psychopathic god he told her to leave her job and stay here with him and see

[siriuslynephilim]

i hate the way he makes me fight for things i don't even believe in or want or like

[lucy-sky]

The Break of Dawn (Leo Barnes x f!Reader)

You work in a small diner not far from the bus station and try to get over a tragic event that happened to you three years ago. Leo Barnes is one of the steady customers, and at some point you realize there's mutual attraction between the two of you. There's no time for romance though - only one night left before the annual Purge, and Leo has an important job to keep Senator Roan safe as it's the only chance to finally put an end to the Purge.

Words: 3 656

Warnings: Sexual content (not super detailed, I would rate this story as Mature rather than Explicit, but still they f*ck), a bit of angst (trigger warning: loss), but Leo is a caring and protective guy who’s ready to hold you

A/N: My first time writing Leo Barnes or any Frank Grillo character, so please don't be mean :))

Taglist: @sweetfictionalworld, @skvatnavle​, @lunamoon-87​

“There he is.”

Stella pokes you with her elbow.

“What?”

“Your tough guy. He’s here,” she nods to the corner of the diner and you don’t even need to follow her gesture to know that Leo Barnes is sitting there, his usual spot. He’s a bit early today, and it’s understandable - you too find it harder to sleep well as the Purge is getting closer.

“He’s not my tough guy, Stells,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah? Tell it to someone else,” she snorts. “So far I’m just wondering how long you’re gonna keep ignoring that sexual tension…”

“Stella, please.”

“What? Honestly, I don’t know why he’s being such a gentleman… But just FYI, y/n… You know it’s not the 19th century and you actually can make the first move?”

“Even if I wanted to, it’s not the right time,” you shrug. “You know he’s doing an important job. He’s got plenty of stuff to think about and it’s definitely not romance.”

“Who’s talking about romance, sis?” Stella laughs. “You’re both so goddamn tense, you need to blow off some steam. No, seriously. You need to get laid. He needs to get laid. It’s just way too obvious!”

“Oh dear god, just please shut up…” you groan.

“Fine,” she gives you a wicked smirk. “If you don’t want him, then I’m bringing his order.”

You chuckle at this.

“Don’t you dare.”

  To be completely honest, you can’t deny that Stella is partly right. There is something between you and this grumpy silent man in the corner. But what exactly? You can’t really put it into words, it’s not just the attraction, or sexual tension as Stella says. You do find him handsome though, you admit that. A couple of times when he was wearing a t-shirt, you caught yourself staring at his muscular arms. Yes, guilty. And still… There’s more than that. You’d call it some sort of mutual understanding.

Leo Barnes works for Senator Roan. In the past, he used to be a cop, now he is the head of security for her. You learnt that one night when he was here, having his usual late dinner. The TV was on, evening news, something about the election of course. And suddenly you noticed him there, standing behind Roan’s back with another guy in a formal dark suit. You blinked, stared at the screen, then looked back at him. He caught your glance.

“Is that… you?” you blurted, realizing too late that you said it out loud. But he smiled, and in his smile there was no anger or annoyance.

“Apparently so,” he replied with a soft chuckle and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “How do I look?”

You started talking ever since then. Barnes usually came to the diner twice - in the morning he just had a mug of black coffee, and in the evening he ordered something to eat. Mornings were often crowded as many people passed the diner before heading to work in the city, so you were busy. But the evenings were mostly quiet. 

You often stayed at work late, covering Stella who had to run to her kids or another date. You didn’t mind that since work was always your way to escape. Nobody was waiting for you at home anyways. Somehow, Leo Barnes started to keep you company. He wasn’t much of a talker and you were never into heartfelt conversations with the clients here, but something just clicked. Especially after you learnt about his job and it became clear that your views on the Purge are the same.

Many people hate The Purge, as well as many people support it. Some people hate it because they’re scared for their loved ones, their business (small shop owners who don’t have enough money to afford the Purge insurance often suffer), or they hate it just because they’re against violence in general. And the others… They have more personal reasons. You’re one of them. And somehow, even if you don’t know for sure, you just feel like Leo Barnes has personal reasons as well. He never really told you, and you don’t dare to ask because you know well enough how the memories can hurt. You didn’t tell him either. But still, you don’t know how exactly it worked, you just looked at each other and saw it. It’s like an unspoken secret between the two of you. The details don’t matter anyway. Your stories are in the past and you can’t change it, but what you can change is the future. If Senator Charlene Roan wins the election - the Purge will finally end. You can help with your vote, and Leo… Leo is determined to do anything to help her survive this year. Just this year, and hopefully no one would ever have to survive this nightmare again. You both want it more than anything else.

  “Hey.”

You smile at Leo as you place a mug of coffee and a plate on the table in front of him.

“Hey…” he looks confused when he sees the food. Nothing really special: eggs, bacon, some beans and a toast. “What’s that? I... only asked for the usual…”

“Just thought you might need some extra fuel,” you shug. “Only one night left before the Purge, so… you must have a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah, you’re right… I actually do,” he gives you a tired smile. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” you nod and turn to leave, but Leo suddenly touches your arm and you freeze.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” you face him again.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“Yes… Why are you asking?..” you give him a puzzled look.

“Well uh… To be honest I’d be happier if you took a day off… You know, just to make sure you’re safe…”

You feel the heat on your cheeks. Does… does he worry about you?.. The realization makes your heart shrink for a second. Apparently he’s not just someone who understands, he’s someone who cares. You already forgot what it feels like when someone really cares. Well, of course there are your parents, but they’re far away… And Leo, he’s right here.

“It’s okay,” you say, trying not to look too baffled. “Tomorrow we’re closing the diner earlier, right after lunchtime, so I’ll be home long before the Purge begins. There’s no need to worry, really.”

“Good,” Barnes nods. “I just… don’t think I’ll be able to come over and check on you tomorrow, so I just…” he stutters as if trying to figure out something to say. 

“I just want you to be careful, okay?” he finally utters, and to your surprise his hand reaches yours, squeezing it lightly. “Just be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah, I... Of course I will,” you try to smile reassuringly. “I promise.”

  *

There’s about five minutes left before closing hour when Leo appears. As usual, you’re still here, helping Mary, the chief and the owner’s wife with all the cleaning up after the working day. While she’s in the kitchen, you wipe the tables, TV-set is murmuring something in the corner. The election, the purge… Always the same.

“You’re closed?” he asks, meeting your gaze. “Sorry, I… Didn’t realize it’s that late already…”

“We’re about to close, but it’s fine, come in!” you assure smiling at him maybe a bit more brightly than you wanted to show. “We’ll get you something to eat, right, Mary?” 

“Sure thing,” she replies from the kitchen door. You weren’t the only one who saw Barnes on TV. Since then, he became an always welcome guest as the diner owners supported Roan as well. Otherwise, to be honest you don’t think you could possibly be able to work for them.

You put a plate with food in front Leo as he takes a seat at the counter. While he’s eating silently, you wipe the coffee mugs and place them carefully on the shelf. The TV keeps talking. Something about the bloomimg economy and international murder tourists who keep coming to the US to take part in the annual Purge. You glance at the screen, see their gut-wrenchingly excited faces.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter under your breath and shake your head. “Fucking insane.”

“True,” you nearly jump at his words, as you didn’t realize Leo heard you. “I knew people who killed someone on Purge night for… different reasons. But those who kill just because they enjoy it, for fun or sport or whatever you call it - those are the most dangerous.”

“They’re just psychopaths. People like that should be kept in mental hospitals or something. But they just walk around as if nothing’s wrong with them. And the new founding fathers keep telling them how proud they are of them…”

“Roan’s gonna make it stop,” Mary joins the conversation. “This lady’s got some balls, am I right, sir?”

“Yes ma’am,” Barnes chuckles. “She absolutely got them.”

  You leave the diner together with Leo. Mary chose to stay inside, waiting for her husband to come pick her up in a few minutes. The night is a bit chilly; you’re shivering, not sure if it’s the cold or the fact that you’re alone with him for the first time.

“Where’s your car?” he asks.

“Oh um… It’s in the service actually. So I’m going to the bus station right over there,” you point. Barnes frowns.

“What about tomorrow?”

“Stella promised to give me a ride home. Leo… I’ll be okay. It’s not the first Purge night in my life, you know.”

“Right,” he clears his throat. “Anyway, since I’m here I can drive you home.”

“You… sure it’s okay?” your voice betrays you a little. “I mean you must be tired…”

“I’m okay,” he assures, then nods at his car. “Come on. I insist.”

“Okay,” you hear yourself saying.

  *

You’re mostly silent on the way. You feel a bit tense, but also kinda… weirdly excited to be in this car, next to him. Damn. Is Stella right, and you’re actually into him? Definitely so. But after all these years you almost completely forgot how it feels - to be into someone or how the relationships work. As if you’re a teenager again. Leo Barnes is the first man who actually made you think of something close to romantic longing since… That night.

“It’s here?” he asks as you reach your house. You nod, and he pulls over. You wait for him to say something, to tell you goodnight maybe, but he doesn’t. Without the sound of the car engine, the silence between you becomes even more awkward. You open your mouth to say goodbye to him, but instead different words suddenly come out.

“Leo, I…” 

He looks at you intently. You stare down at your knees.

“Yeah?”

“I just… The fact that you worry about me - it’s very nice of you, really. And… I just wanted you to know that I worry about you too. I worry about you a lot actually…”

“Y/n…” his voice is quiet as he brings his hand to your face, gently urging you to look up at him. His eyes look darker than usual in the dim light of the street lamp nearby. You think if it’s possible to drown in someone’s eyes you’d already be gone.

“I’ll be fine, okay?” he says softly. “It’s gonna be a tough night for sure, but I’ll be fine, I have to be fine. You gotta trust me on this. You trust me?”

“Yes,” you barely whisper, unable to take your eyes from his, and when the tension becomes almost unbearable, his lips finally crush on yours.

You both expected and didn’t expect it, didn’t dare to admit even to yourself how much you really wanted it. Your breath hitches somewhere in your throat as you kiss him back eagerly, forgetting about everything and everyone for this moment that lasts so long and so painfully short at once. You’re both panting as your lips part, foreheads pressed together. 

“I… I think I should go,” you mumble as a rush of panic suddenly overwhelms you.

“Yeah… Yeah…” he nods. “You should get some rest.”

“You too.”

You squeeze his hand for a second. Gosh, you didn’t even realize your hand was on his all this time. 

“Good night,” you finally murmur, bracing yourself to get out of the car. You feel like something else needs to be said, but can’t really figure out what.

  *

You enter the house and just lean against the door, heart hammering wildly inside your chest. You close your eyes and try to catch your breath. What the hell just happened? And why are you reacting like that? There’s nothing wrong about this kiss. You’re two single adults… Well, probably single. Leo doesn’t wear a ring, so… Damn it, you really got out of practice when it comes to relationships.

A knock on the door made your eyes snap open. As if in a daze, you slowly turn and reach the door handle, already knowing who you’re going to see.

Leo doesn’t say anything. And you can’t read the expression in his eyes, or you simply don’t have time for it, because the next moment he steps inside, his hands cup your cheeks and he kisses you with such longing and desperation it nearly kicks the breath out of your lungs. You don’t know what you’re doing any more, but your fingers are already in his dark hair, scratching the nape of his neck while his lips and tongue keep attacking your mouth. It feels like shockwaves running through your body, and for the first time in years you feel just so alive. All this time your feelings, passions and emotions were asleep, everything around you seemed pale and lifeless as if someone turned down the contrast, but something changed. Not right now, not in the snap of a finger, of course; it happened gradually. Something kept changing deep within you since the very first time your eyes met, and now - you’re finally ready to feel something. To let him in.

You don't think about it though. Or about anything else, to be honest. All you can focus on is what his lips are doing to you, how hot his breath is and how weirdly nice his stubble feels against your skin. Leo’s coat falls on the floor. His big hands seize your waist as he lifts you up, causing you to grip onto his broad shoulders. Pressing you against the nearest wall, he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, the kisses are sloppy, open-mouthed, and you can't suppress a soft moan. He's big and strong, you feel small underneath him, but you like it. 

You can’t even remember clearly how you finally reached the bedroom, frantically helping each other to get rid of the clothes. When you tumble down and he hovers over you, the skin to skin contact is overwhelming. He brushes your hair away from your flushed face, kisses you with sudden tenderness. The look in his hazel eyes is warm yet still full of passion as you cup his cheek and he presses his lips to your palm. An affectionate gesture that makes your heart skip a beat, but you both are too impatient to be soft right now. So he leans in, kissing you harder this time, grunting against your mouth when you pull him closer, craving as much of him as possible. You can feel him twitching against your lower belly as you wrap your legs around him, eager to get more pressure. He’s not even inside you yet, but it already feels so good you can’t help bucking your hips, earning a low groan from him at the friction. His lips trail along your jawline, down to the side of your neck, where he kisses and nibbles, and you just know there’s gonna be marks tomorrow, but damn, you can’t care less.

When he finally enters you and starts moving, you’re almost delirious. Clinging to him, you gasp and whisper his name into his skin, feel the muscles on his back tense as he thrusts deeper. The wave of bliss hits you so hard your vision turns blurry and for a few seconds it feels like you’re not there.

  *

Reality comes back to you slowly, with all the dark and troubled thoughts you can’t escape. Leo is lying next to you with his eyes closed, breathing evenly, so you think he must be asleep. Good for him. Carefully, you slip out of the bed to get a glass of water. It doesn’t help you to get rid of the lump in your throat though. Back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed and let out a deep sigh, trying to fight back tears. Too many emotions for one night.

“Y/n.”

Leo’s voice doesn’t even seem sleepy. You can feel him shifting in bed to reach you, the warmth of his calloused hand stroking your back soothingly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, uh…” You shake your head, bringing your hand to rub your eyes. “I’m good. It’s just… It’s been a while since I… You know…”

“I know. It’s been a while for me as well.”

“I lost my boyfriend three years ago,” you blurt out, surprising yourself that you said it out loud. “During the Purge night. He um… He was a medical student. We lived in an apartment building and we heard someone crying for help. I wanted to stop him but he just couldn’t ignore someone who needed help, you know. He got shot accidentally, right into his head. There was no chance to save him.”

Leo’s hand gently squeezes your shoulder.

“Sorry, I… Don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I’ve never talked about him since the funeral…”

“It’s okay,” he moves closer, pressing a kiss against your shoulder blade.

“I was so angry at first, you know,” now that you start talking you seemingly cannot stop. “I wished I could find and kill them. But then I thought he wouldn’t want me to become a murderer...”

He presses his forehead against the back of your head for a moment. “I know how you feel, y/n.”

You finally turn to meet his gaze. 

“I lost my son. I know what this anger feels like. Two years ago all I was thinking about on the Purge night was revenge. I was determined, almost obsessed.”

“Did… you do it?”

“No. I was close to it. Very close. But… One wise person made me realize that it wouldn’t help. Violence only brings more violence.”

“It has to be stopped,” you whisper.

“Yes,” he nods. “That’s why I left the police. Cops have to stay away from the Purge. I couldn’t any more. At least now I know I'm doing the right thing.”

“Right… Just… I’m just scared of losing you too,” you say very quietly, but he hears you anyway. His strong arms wrap around your body, pulling you closer, enclosing into his warmth. Making you feel safe.

“Hey, hey...” He whispers into your hair as he nuzzles into the top of your head. “It’s not gonna happen, you hear me? Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise.”

  *

You have no doubt your colleagues noticed who drove you to work this morning. But today no one is in the mood for comments, not even Stella. Even though the work goes on as usual, there’s still this tension in the air before the Purge night. 

Through the window you can see a bunch of guys gathered around the car with an open trunk full of baseball bats and other stuff you can’t discern. The owner proudly shows off his stuff, other guys laugh, they look pretty chill and relaxed, and your stomach nearly twists at the sight. 

  *

All night you could barely sleep a wink. A knock on the door drags you out of troubled slumber. At first you’re not even sure if you really heard it or it was in your dream. But the sounds repeat and you jump off the bed and without even caring to slip something over the huge t-shirt you sleep in. Barefoot, you rush to the door, open it with shaky hands.

He looks so exhausted it seems like he can barely stand. The collar of his shirt that used to be white is now stained with blood. And yet… He’s smiling.

“Leo!..” you gasp, stepping towards him and bringing your hand to his stubbly cheek. “Oh my god, are you… Everything okay?..”

“I’m great,” he breathes out huskily, and his smile slowly turns into a wide grin. “We did it, baby.”

You don’t even try to hold back tears as you fall into his arms, bury your face into his chest. He smells a bit like sweat and blood, but you absolutely don’t care. “I’m so glad you’re here,” you mumble into his ruined shirt. “I’m here,” he whispers back, stroking your hair. Then you realize the two of you are still standing at the porch.

“Alright,” you say, drawing back a little. “Let’s get you in, you need some rest… And you’re probably hungry too… And you definitely need a shower…”

“Wait, y/n. Let’s just… Stay here for a bit? I think we both need to catch a breath,” he chuckles crookedly, reaching out to wipe a tear from your cheek. You smile back.

“Okay.”

  Sitting on the porch with your head on Leo’s shoulder, his arm wrapped around your frame, you watch the sky becoming lighter and lighter as the dawn breaks. You can hear the sounds of sirens in the distance. The city’s slowly getting back to life, waking up after another nightmare. 

You both know it’s not the end, the war isn’t won yet, but at least you won this very important battle. And for the first time in what seems like ages you have a good feeling about the future.

*

Thanks for reading! 

Hugs, Lucy

[danielxricciardo]

Can you do one with Dani? Maybe with 56&58 from angst prompts, like they have a kid from a fling but aren’t dating/together

Summary: You have a daughter with Daniel from a one-night stand.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

Word count: 1.7k

56. “I was alone with my baby. My own thoughts terrified me. And you never bothered to call.”

58. “I keep trying to be a better mother, even when everything I do seems to backfire.”

You can boast that up until the age of 22 you were a model person.

You were the perfect daughter: you were home every holiday or birthday, you never argued with your parents and you made sure to call them every day since you moved out of their home.

You were the perfect older sister: you gave your younger siblings money without your parents' knowledge, you helped them when they asked for your help, and you tried to give them advice when they needed it.

You were the perfect friend: when your friends called you that they needed a shoulder to cry on, you were right next to them with a box of ice cream.

You were the perfect employee: you always got to work earlier, you stayed after-hours to finish all your work and to help others and you did your job perfectly.

But now you're 24 and everything is fucked up.

You moved in with your parents again and you no longer have that perfect relationship with them. You resigned from your job and from all the gang of friends you had, you were left with only one friend: Emilia.

Why?

Because now you had a daughter, resulting from a one-night stand.

You were a single mother who relied on the help and support of those around her.

Given that there was nothing more than a one-night stand between you and Kiera's father on your birthday night, you didn't know if it would be appropriate to post him on Instagram and say, 'Hey, 'sup, I don't know if you remember me, you drank a lot of whiskey that night, but we fucked and now you have a baby. Congratulations!' What kind of psychopath does that?

Not to mention that he is a public figure, of course, he wouldn't believe you and say you're just a money-obsessed girl; that if he saw the message on Instagram, obviously.

But it was going to be your daughter's second birthday and you were starting to get remorseful. Sure, you accepted your life as a single mother and you knew you wouldn't have a happy ending like in the princess books you read to Kiara, but it wasn't right for your daughter. She needs a father in her life. And it wasn't fair for Daniel not to know he had a daughter. Of course, you can only tell him and it is up to him to choose what to do with this information: whether he wants to be part of Kiara's life or not. At least you would have tried.

That weekend was going to be the Grand Prix of Great Britain and you didn't do much flying there, and, anyway, you could stay with your cousin you haven't seen in about 5 years.

Although your daughter's father was a well-known Formula 1 driver, you have never been to a race, and you were amazed by the very high prices for a ticket with access to the paddock.

You had a choice of which day to go and tell Daniel, probably, the news of his life.

You were sure you didn't want to tell him on Sunday. Before the race? Maybe he had an accident and he would have hurt himself. So no.

Saturday? Before qualifying? If you had told him then he would have gone to qualifications, he would not have focused and he would have come out on a low position. So no.

So you decided on Friday.

You left your cousin's house in the morning for the circuit where the race took place. You passed security without a problem with Kiara. You could walk through the paddock without any problems looking for your baby's father.

You knew that the best chance of finding Daniel was to go to McLaren Hospitality. On the way there, everyone you met stopped to look at Kaira, wondering how beautiful she was. You thanked them and prayed that they would not realize that she was Daniel's daughter, considering that she was almost identical to him; you could take her curly hair and smile as a positive result of the paternity test.

"What a beautiful baby!" you hear a girl standing in front of Red Bull Racing with Max Verstappen, and you immediately realize it's Kelly Piquet; good thing you documented yourself before you came.

You see her come and lean over the stroller.

"Oh my God, what beautiful eyes she has! What's her name?"

"Kiara," you answer and you look panicked as Max comes towards you.

"Look, Max! Isn't she a beautiful girl?"

Max smiles. "Yes, she is."

"What is such a small child doing here? She's going to hear very loud noises."

Damn it. What would you answer now?

"We came to walk around and meet some drivers," you answer as convincingly as you can. "It's never too early to start, right?" you giggle.

The two laughed, apparently they believed you.

But you immediately felt your legs soften and you saw Daniel walking with his teammate. You bit your lip and held on to the stroller better. All the courage left you and you wanted to leave.

"A baby!" Lando gasps and comes towards you.

Wonderful! Everyone behaved as if they had never seen a baby in their life, pathetic.

Daniel came after him, looking at you strangely. Did he recognize you? He also looks at Kiera and smiles.

You could've died there. You wanted to cry and you couldn't take your eyes off Daniel.

The next thing you saw was black.

You woke up lying on a bed, someone was holding a cold water pad on your forehead. And your head hurt a hell of a lot.

"Hey, are you okay?" Lando, who was next to you asks.

"Mhm, my head hurts."

"Oh, yes, you hit yourself a little when you fainted but a doctor came and consulted you while you were still unconscious and said you were fine. Can I get you something?"

"Just water."

"Coming right now," he says and gets up from next to you, leaving the room.

Kiera! Where was she? You get out of bed immediately, even though it made your head spin and you felt like throwing up.

"Hey, hey, hey, calm down!" Daniel says and gets up from his chair with Kiera in his arms.

You look at Kiera and breathe a sigh of relief.

"You seem so familiar to me," says Daniel and you want to faint again. "What's your name?"

"Y/N."

He seemed to be thinking. He didn't know how he knew you and you were afraid to tell him anything now.

"Wait! Spain, 2 years ago! It was like your birthday and we did shots together, right?"

Fuck. He remembered.

"Yes."

Daniel was smiling. Did he only remember the shots in the club?

"About that night..." you say and catch Daniel's attention. You signal to Kiera who is playing with some keys in Daniel's arms.

Daniel looked at the little girl and it was as if you could see the wheels spinning in his head.

"Wait a minute..."

"I brought you water, do you feel bet-"

"Go away!" Daniel shouts at Lando. Lando gets scared and gives you your water bottle then leaves. "What were you saying?"

You bite your lip.

"Kiera is your daughter."

"Dada!"

Daniel was speechless. His eyes were wide and they seemed to be coming out of their sockets and he was looking at Kiera. You didn't know how to interpret his reaction.

"Are you serious?"

"I don't know why you think I'm kidding."

"Are you sure I'm the father?"

You snort and get out of bed, you go to him and take Kiera out of his arms.

"What do you think? That I go to different wealthy men and tell them that they have a baby with me to give me money? I came to tell you because I thought Kiera would do well to have a father in her life. But I see that her father is not interested at all. You haven't even called me in all these years."

Daniel frowns and looks at you.

"What are you talking about?"

"The next morning I woke up before you and left my phone number on a note. I left it on your nightstand."

All the color was drained from his face.

"I didn't see the note."

You snort again.

“I realize it was a bad idea. I was alone with my baby. My own thoughts terrified me. And you never bothered to call.” you say and a few tears run down your face.

"Hey, hey, hey! You don't get to cry! I found out I lost the first few years of her life! You should have come earlier to tell me! You could come here, I don't know, you could contact me on Facebook, Instagram!"

"Yeah, sure! You doubted me now, if you'd have woken up with a message from me on Instagram you would have believed me immediately!"

"I believe you now," he says and puts a hand on your shoulder. "Please, I want to know more about her life. Can you stay?"

You looked at him with tears in your eyes. Is this really happening?

You both sat on the bed and Daniel took his daughter in his arms.

"Her full name is Kiera Hazel. In two weeks she'll be 2 years old." you start saying it with a big smile on your face. "Her first word was 'dada'."

Daniel laughs and looks at her.

"Was it hard to raise her alone so far?"

“I keep trying to be a better mother, even when everything I do seems to backfire. I had to resign from work because I couldn't divide my time between work and her, I moved back with my parents... All my friends left me, so yes, it's been pretty hard. But it's worth it when I see her smile.”

"I'm sorry you had to go through this alone. If you allow me, I want to be in her life. I want to help you."

"That will be great, actually," you smile.

[ragingbookdragon]

I couldn't help myself with this and I'm sure as shit not sorry. Enjoy the Batbrother fic! -Thorne

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The entire mission in Costa Rica would’ve taken two days to complete with the final night being the perfect time to eliminate the militia and their leader. He gazed at the rural camp through the scope of his rifle, surveying the small but well-guarded church building and courtyard. Five camps were set up around the church itself in a star set, the main headquarters in the middle, and a barbed wire fence surrounded the entire operation.

Getting in wasn’t going to be any trouble, at least not for Walker and Gutierrez; shifting the rifle, he could see them creeping up the side of the hill, staying in the tall brush. They were about thirty meters from the side of the fence that would let them in undetected; he’d provide sniper fire for anyone nearing them that they couldn’t get to in time.

All at once, Walker stilled in the brush, grasping at Gutierrez’s wrist. When Walker didn’t start reporting, he frowned and hit the button on his gun, murmuring, “Talk to me, Walker.”

The former MI6 operative grunted. “Somethings fuckin’ with my radar.” He glanced back towards where he was camped in the sniper nest. “Tell Asghar to figure it out.”

A new voice came over the line, rather agitated. “I don’t work for you and telling me to figure it out, isn’t going to make me. Maybe you could ask nicely.”

“Well, you ain’t called the fuckin’ ‘Eye in The Sky’ for no reason. Use the IFF and figure it out.”

“Arse,” she retorted, then she hummed. “Captain, Walker’s right, there’s something entering the premises. But I can’t tell what—it’s cloaked.”

He hummed quietly. “Where is it, Asghar?”

“East-side. It’s pinging the radar, but I don’t have a visual on it. Lemme circle around again.”

Glancing into the scope once more, he watched the east side carefully, when one of the militia members suddenly grasped their throat, blood spilling between their fingers. There was a split-second flash of a white tactical cloak shimmering, and his eyes went wide. “Everyone pull back. Now.”

All of his squad reacted with shock, but he wasn’t going to hear it. “All of you. Get out. Now. I know what’s inside the perimeter. Asghar land the Hawkeye. Everyone get to it.”

“Captain, what is it?”

“Nothing good, Mikhailovna.” He replied to the assassin with an annoyed frown. “Goddamn motherfucking asshole.” He scowled and watched another militia member fall, then another, and another. All within seconds. “Fucker took our job out from underneath us.”

“Who did, Captain?” Walker asked.

“A Ghost I don’t feel like engaging right now.” He said. “I gave you all an order. Back to the plane. Double time.”

“What about mission?” Mikhailovna questioned and he could tell she was already pissed.

“Our little guest’s already claimed it as theirs. I’ll explain later. Just get back.”

A round of disgruntled replies came in but he paid them no mind, simply watching the shimmer of the tactical cloak every few seconds go out as the soldiers dropped, throats slit.

***

He hefted the duffel bag onto his shoulder, watching his squad boarding the plane. His pilot stood beside him. “You coming with us or staying?” she questioned, and he hummed.

“Planning on staying for a while.” His eyes drifted to the hotel in the distance. “Costa Rica’s got some nice sights and I’ll need to find us another job since this one busted halfway through.”

She nodded as if suddenly remembering. “Yeah, about that…I haven’t seen you that spooked in a while. Who was that?”

“I wasn’t spooked.” he griped. “But it’s a vigilante who’s not exactly good.”

Nadeen crossed her arms over her chest. “So, they’re like us?”

“No. He’s not even like me or Jason. When he fights, he views it as an art, not a duty. He’ll kill anyone he deems necessary.”

“Psychopath much?”

“Congratulations,” he quipped dryly. “You hit the nail on the head.”

“Oh my god, seriously? He’s a psychopath?”

“Full-fledged, no remorse or sympathy.” He glanced at the servicers finishing the fueling. “You should go start up the plane. I’m sure everyone’s ready to be back home for a while.”

Nadeen looked at him. “What are you going to do the entire time?”

“Hopefully find a job he won’t bud in on. Tell everyone they’ve got a month leave.” He held out his arm, elbow bent, and fist curled.

Nadeen placed the outside of her arm, held just like his, against the outside of his. “Happy hunting, Captain. Stay safe.”

“You too,” he smiled, pulling away to walk off the flight line.

***

He stepped out of the shower and wrapped the fluffy white towel around his waist. His eyes caught his reflection in the mirror and for a moment he simply stared at himself. All the scars that lined his chest, the bullet wounds, the stabs, the slashes, the burns. Each told a story of a time he escaped death’s clutches. Barely. But still alive.

He shifted the dog tags that at his sternum and looked at the cicatrix on his skin; he didn’t like the memory that surrounded it and he shook his head, letting the tags fall back into place before he walked out of the bathroom and into the master bedroom. He’d left a pair of fresh underwear on the bed, and he removed the towel, slipping them on.

Figuring since no one was going to bother him, he tossed the towel onto the sofa beside the window and walked through the living room into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and pursed his lips, wondering if he should cook or order room service; the Casa Del Mar Residence had fairly decent service.

Suddenly his muscles tensed and the hair on the back of his neck stood; he calmly grabbed an apple out of the refrigerator, then spun, throwing it with deadly aim and speed.

Unsurprisingly, the half-masked man leaning against the laundry room doorway caught it, smiling at him. “Well done, (Y/N). You knew I was here.”

He felt anger flush through him, and he pointed at him. “I knew it was you. Only you’d stick your nose in a SPECTRE Op and stick around afterwards to gloat about it.”

Chuckling, the man took a bite of the apple, chewing before murmuring, “Why so upset, (Y/N)? I took out the target for you.”

“Yeah, and you cost me and my squad a few million dollars of payment.” (Y/N) scowled. “The fuck do you want Ghost-Maker?”

Ghost-Maker smirked at him. “I’d pay you back but I’m sure you’d tell me to shove my money where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“Again, what do you want?” he gestured around. “It sure as shit isn’t to mess up my vacation for a month.”

“I’m leaving in a few hours,” he shrugged. “New missions in Asia.”

(Y/N) looked him over a moment. “You know he told me the first letters of your name. ‘Kh’.” He hummed, leaning against the island. “There’s so many names it could be. Khalid. Khal. Khadim. Khai.” Eyeing the vigilante, he quipped, “I feel like I’ve already said it.”

“I’d tell you if you did.” He walked around the island and stood beside (Y/N).

“Really? You’d tell me?” he cocked a brow. “Can I call you ‘K’?”

“No.”

“Hmm…sensitive.” (Y/N) grinned. “C’mon K, lighten up a little you psycho.”

He rolled his eyes. “Anyone ever told you you’re hilarious?”

“Just a few people. One of those being my dad.” (Y/N) met his gaze. “So…why are you here if you’re leaving in a few hours.”

A smirk ghosted over the man’s face, and he took a closer step, now in (Y/N)’s personal space, in fact, standing just before him. “I haven’t meditated yet.”

He peered at him. “Something tells me you’re not talking about yoga.”

“No. I’m thinking something more carnal.” He murmured. “Seems like you could use some meditation too.”

(Y/N)’s eyes merely narrowed, and he glared at the man in front of him for a long while before sighing and grunting, “Fine. But if you tell anyone we fucked, I’ll kill you in your sleep.” He started towards the bedroom, listening to Ghost-Maker follow, chuckling behind him.

“I already told you, (Y/N). We’re going to meditate.”

“Meditate my ass,” he griped in return.

“Relax. We’re going to have some fun.”

“I’m topping.”

“We’ll see,” Ghost-Maker cooed, shutting the door behind them.

[boldlyvoid]

“are we going to get a divorce?”

This takes place in the Wisteria Universe.

tw// spencer's prison abuse and assault

"are we going to get a divorce?"

spencer abruptly turns from where he was standing in the corner of the prison interrogation room. "why would you ask me that? do you want one?"

"no," she stands and attempts to walk over to him before they hear a tap on the glass reminding her she cant touch him.

"i just don't understand why this is the only way you'd talk to me? and you wont even look at me? i- spence come sit here and look at me when i tell you this?"

he comes back to the metal table that's screwed into the ground, sitting in the metal chair and making a horrible noise as he pulls it in. but he looks at her, hands flat on the table, so close to touching.

"i miss you, so much. i know it's hard for you in a way that i'll never really understand, i know the trauma in here is going to be irreversible and i'm ready to work through it. i never want you to think i'd leave you, i don't want you to shut me out. if something bad happened to you it doesn't make you any less of a man to me. you're always going to me My spencer and i'm always going to love you."

he cries and it breaks her heart that she can't hold him. squeezing her hands into fists so she doesn't throw herself across the table and into his arms.

"i love you, so, so, much baby," she whispers. "please let me know you're okay in here?"

he nods, "i miss you too..."

"i know," her head tilts as her bottom lips sticks out in spencer's favourite pout. "it'll be over soon, Emily will figure it out."

"i hope," the words come out stronger as he wipes his tears. "are you okay? i'm sorry i've been so distant, it's hard for me to think about the real world in a concrete box."

her heart actually aches, "i brought some of the kids artworks, if you want to hang it up in your cell?" she reaches into her purse on the ground and places them all on the table.

they're a bunch of window scenes, rolling hills and bright suns. "these are beautiful."

"they wanted you to smile every day," she presses her lips together in an attempt to stay calm.

he let's out a shaky breath as he picks them up, "wow..."

"god, this fucking sucks," she buries her face in her hands. losing all her control and sobbing. "i can't do this anymore, i'm sorry. i promised i wouldn't do this in front of you but this is so hard."

"babe," he whispers her name, "shh, babe, please? stop crying please i can't hug you," he taps the table to get her attention. "please? it'll be okay, i promise."

she nods and pulls herself together. "sorry."

"i'm sorry," he whispers. "if this wasn't my job i wouldn't be here. if i didn't antagonize a psychopath with my team i would be here."

"wait," her eyes narrow as she looks off. "Foyet."

"what about him?"

"he went after aaron and his family because he did the one thing none of his other victims did, they challenged him." Y/N recalls the story spencer told her all those years ago when she was simply aaron's neighbour.

"Cat Adams..." spencer whispers.

"you were her greatest competition, it was about her dad... on god Diana's with the kids."

[reidswritings]

everything changed then

word count; 5.1k

warnings; 14x15 spoilers!!!! curse words, gun violence (i think that's it??)

author’s note; this is my first spencer fic and im feeling really good about it so like, i hope you enjoy!!

 She wasn’t sure of the events that led her to the current situation. Or, you know, maybe she was— she wasn’t dumb. No in fact, other than Spencer, she was probably one of the smartest people on the team. Regardless of whatever the reason was, she was still there. She was in a terrible, terrible situation. 

What was once a car chase turned foot, had quickly turned into a hostage situation. A standoff between three FBI agents (JJ, Spencer, and Y/N) was cut short when the villain with the psychopathic tendencies forced all three to toss aside their weapons. He then forced an innocent hostage to lockdown the small shop. The innocent woman, who doubled as a mother and the judge who had locked the unsub away, with the other gun, pleaded with him. 

“Please, don’t hurt her. I don’t know how they found us, I didn’t call them!” she was nervous, her  hands shaky. Y/N, ironically, could feel the anxiety flowing from her own body. She was supposed to save them, save them all, and yet, here she was barely able to breathe as the potentially deadly weapon was trained on her boyfriend of three years. “Please, just let her go!”

“Melissa, we haven’t finished our little game.” The nasty man sneered at her, still holding the blonde against him while pointing his gun at Spencer. The three agents, shared a look. It was clear between them that they weren’t getting out without setting the man off. 

Casey forced Y/N down first, noises of protest coming from both her and Spencer. He had pulled her arms behind her back, more rough than needed, and wrapped her wrists in multiple layers of duct-tape. The tape pulled harshly at her skin, no doubt leaving behind a couple of nasty bruises. JJ and Spencer not far behind her, instead, Casey forced Melissa to do so. 

Spencer, trying to relive at least some of the tension, said, “Don’t worry, it's gonna be okay.” While Y/N knew that he was talking to the judge, she felt the undertones of his promise. 

don’t worry. it’ll be okay. we’ll get out of this, promise. nothing will happen. She knew that it was  meant for her too. 

“Hurry up!” Casey stressed, gun pointed at the stomach of the blonde who was barely holding it together. “Get over here. This is all your fault. I told you it was an accident, that—that Mark was the one who forced me to do it.”

The three tied up cops shared a look. This was bad, really really bad. Casey continued. angry, “But you wouldn’t listen! You just sat up there looking smug and superior. You think you’re so much better than me, but you’re not. You’re just as capable of hurting someone as anybody is.”

With too much force, Casey forced the young blonde to the ground, causing her to cry out as well as causing Y/N to move to her knees. He then pointed the gun back at Melissa, Y/N let out a noise of discomfort before saying, “C’mon, C-Casey, you don’t want to do this.”

A smirk playing on his lips, gross and unattractive, he looked to Melissa and ignored Y/N’s pleas, “Well, here it is, judge, your moment of truth.” In his outstretched hand was the gun that Melissa had previously tossed aside. She took it from the unsub’s hand, Jennifer’s eyes going wide at the sight. “Shoot her. Or i’ll kill your daughter.”

No one moved. No one breathed. No one spoke a word— that is until JJ’s voice rung out, breaking the silence. “Come on. She’s got nothing to do with this, okay? Just let her go.”

“Shoot her!” It was forceful and loud and dangerous all at the same time. Spencer and Y/N were stunned into silence, JJ spoke again, “Casey, she’s not a part of this. Okay?” She was trying so desperately to get everyone out with out any injuries. She was brave and Y/N admired that about her good friend. “You have no reason to hurt her. Just let her go.”

Y/N knew it was wrong as soon as the words passed her good friend’s lips. She watched with an anxiety filled heart as Casey’s whole demeanor changed, he snatched the gun from Melissa’s hands and stomped over to where JJ was sitting. He knelt down to her level and roughly grabbed a chunk of her beautiful blonde locks. Spencer moved forward, like he was going to say something, something that would aggravate the gunman even more. Y/N silently pleaded with him to stop, to just say silent— stay safe.

However, Y/N beat him to it. She didn’t care if the fire was on her. She’d rather that than on JJ or Spencer or an innocent bystander. “Leave her alone.” 

Her voice was harsh and threatening all at once. In all the years that Y/N had been on the team, no one had ever heard her talk like that. Then again, Y/N was always cautious enough to never end up in a hostage situation. 

It was then Casey pointed his gun at Y/N—Spencer’s heart stopping— “I wasn’t talking to you.” It was clear to the room that he was directing that to both girls. He then, without anymore aggravations, violently released JJ before standing up, gun still trained on Y/N, and backed up to the blonde who had the unfortunate job of working in this shop on this god-awful day. 

“Get up! Now!” He pulled the young girl up, tossing her into the counter next to Spencer. Her body flung into the counter with such force it knocked down a mirror, shattering. A gun shot rung out and Melissa and the unnamed worker both yelped— one in fear and the other in pain. 

Y/N watched as Spencer slowly moved over, trying to see the young girl, only to be stopped by a shout and a gun in his face. “Do not move!”

If Y/N’s anxiety ridden heart was in her throat before it was now jumping from her mouth and onto the floor. She didn’t understand why she was on the verge of loosing her breath. She had seen a gun pointed at her boyfriend before. It wasn’t anything new, it happened. It came with the job. Maybe it was the fact that she knew there was no getting out of this without injury and pain. 

Again, Casey’s focus was on Melissa, “New deal.” Gun in her face, gun in his hand, offering. All three agents watching helplessly. They were out of options. This was really fucking bad. “Now you need to kill one of these three.”

Y/N’s heart calmed slightly as she watched the scared brunette take the gun from the wild man’s hand. She could do this. She could talk her down— this she could do. Melissa turned to the three, gun pointed at the floor before focusing it on Spencer. 

“Melissa— Melissa, you don't want to do this. I know you don’t, you can stop this. Just put down the gun. Please—”

“Shut up!” Casey’s voice was raw. It was clear his patience was running thin. He was going to snap. Back to Melissa, he asked, “Who’s it gonna be?”

Her eyes locked with Spencer’s then with Y/N’s, they were sad and scared, “Please. Please, I don’t want to do this.”

“Focus, Melissa!” Loud and angry. The gun shook with his words.

“Please,” she begged, it was no louder than a whisper. Y/N could feel herself loosing hope, maybe she was wrong. Maybe she couldn’t do this. 

“Judge, you gotta decide. That’s what you do right?” He was calm, now. Way, way too calm. “Decide life or death with a flick of your gavel.”

The gun in Melissa’s hands moved from Spencer then to the floor and then to JJ only to go back to Spencer in the end. And Y/N was going to lose it. She was ready to do something, anything when the phone rang. Hope flooding her veins again. Help was here. They would get them out, without any damage. Right?

Y/N let out a breath, one she wasn’t aware she was holding, when Spencer spoke. His voice providing her with a much needed feeling of ease. “Answer it. Casey, answer it.”

“Shut up!” Melissa’s gun was still trained on Spencer as Casey yelled at her, “Pull the trigger!”

Melissa cried out, terrified. Y/N opened her mouth, the words flowing out before she could stop them. “Please, please don’t do this.”

“Shut up, everybody, shut up!” Casey was nearing his end, he was snapping. He lunged forward, ripping the cord from the wall, the insistent ringing stopping with it. “Focus, Melissa! Pull the trigger.”

JJ shared a look with Spencer then looked to Y/N, before trying one last time, “Casey, if Melissa won’t play, I will.” The beautiful blonde moved to her knees. She was determined to take the heat off Spencer. She couldn’t lose her best friend— she couldn’t let Y/N loose the love of her life. 

Jennifer was standing now, everyone sharing a worried look. Casey trained his gun on JJ, moving it from Melissa. Small victories. 

“Truth or dare, that’s your game, right?” The beauty shrugged, like it was nothing off her back, “I’ll play.” 

“JJ—” Y/N started, but cut herself short when Casey pointed the gun at her again. “Melissa, the weapon— give it, now!” 

“Casey,” Spencer began and Y/N felt her eyes close, hope slowly draining away again, ‘I know what its like, to be wrongly accused, sent to prison for a crime you didn’t commit.”

Casey laughed, though no humor was held behind it, “Bullshit. You went to jail?”

Spencer nodded and Casey laughed again, “Yeah, I’d like to see that, pretty boy.” He then moved over to JJ and Y/N’s mind was running a mile a minute trying to fix this. Trying to find a way to get them to safety. Trying, trying and failing. 

“Alright, agent. . .”

“Jareau,” she supplied and Y/N could hear the underlying fear. 

“Agent Jareau,” he repeated, testing it on his tongue, “truth or dare?”

“Truth.” she was calm, but Y/N could tell that her good friend was just trying to put on a brave face.

“If I think you’re lying or stretching the truth in the slightest, I’ll kill him.” His gun was pointed at Spencer again and Y/N felt herself gasp loudly. JJ nodded solemnly and the wild man continued, “you ever shoot anybody before?”

“Yes, I have.”

He was sick; he laughed, “You enjoy it?”

“No.” Y/N felt like she was going to throw up. She couldn’t, this was too much. She couldn’t believe this was how her day turned out. She watched with a heavy heart and tearful eyes as Casey’s face morphed into anger. She knew JJ had messed up. He turned, annoyance heavy on his shoulders. Before any of the highly trained agents could make a move, Casey pointed the gun in Spencer’s direction and fired, screaming out. “Liar!”

Both Y/N and JJ gasped, but Y/N was the only one to yell out. “No!”

Panicked, JJ’s wide eyes moved from Spencer’s uninjured form to the man with the gun, “No, no, no. I’m not lying. Okay? I’m not lying. The people I shot, I had no choice, but I did not enjoy it. I didn’t. Okay, you asked and I-I told the truth. Okay, I told you the truth, so, uh— now, it's my turn. Right? That’s how this game is played, we take turns. Truth or dare?”

Casey slowly lowered his gun and Y/N watched helpless. “Truth.”

“What’s it gonna take for all of us to walk out of here alive? For this to end peacefully?”

Casey scoffed and trained his gun on JJ again, angry, “I ain’t going back to prison. My turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“I want you to say something you’re afraid to say, that you’d never tell anybody. And you better make it good, ‘cause if it's not, it's gonna be the last thing you ever say.” Y/N was out of hope. She could feel her walls breaking down, she could feel the few tears that had escaped her closed eyes. The gunman continued, shaking his weapon, “What’s it gonna be?”

JJ shook her head, voice watery. “There are only four people I trust in this world.”

“Boring.” He had snapped. This was it, his breaking point; he moved the gun back to Melissa and pulled the trigger, the bullet entering her leg. She yelled out and collapsed to the ground. Casey brought the gun back to Jennifer, “Next!”

“Um. . . My. . .” she was struggling, “My baby I lost, I, um—” Y/N’s eyes opened, trained on her friend, watery and blurry. “I wanted to name her Maggie.”

“Wrong!” He wanted more. He wanted her deepest secret, “Come on, you can do better than that!”

“Casey.” Spencer’s voice rung out, warning. 

“Shut up!” The dangerous man rushed her then. His hand attached itself to JJ’s arm and shoved her down to her knees with force, gun eye level to the blonde, “Last chance. Something you would never say aloud, not even to your partners here. Your deepest, darkest secret. Impress me or I kill him.”

“JJ,” Y/N’s broken voice was no louder than a whisper as she begged her friend to save her boyfriend, “please.”

The blonde shared a look with both of her friends as Casey yelled again, “Come on!” 

JJ’s eyes and voice were watery as she spoke. “Spence, I, uh, I’ve always loved you.”

It was like a punch to the gut. She felt like she was a balloon and all the air had escaped. She didn’t believe what she was hearing spill from her best friend’s lips. In a broken whisper, Y/N asked, “What? JJ—”

Spencer had turned to the blonde, his face that once held anger and confusion now held a look that Y/N couldn’t quite place. The blonde continued on, crying, ignoring Y/N’s cries, “And I was just too scared to say it before. And now things are just really too complicated to say it now, because I have Will and the boys and you have Y/N— I’m sorry, but you should know.”

Y/N’s blurry eyesight shot to her boyfriend, trying to see his reaction. And what she saw broke her heart in half. He smiled. He fucking smiled. He had a fucking smile on his lips and he was looking at JJ how he usually looked at Y/N. And maybe that was what hurt the most. Seeing the far away, lovestruck look in his eyes. 

Casey broke the heavy silence, his laugh was loud and bitter, gun lowered, “Hot damn. That’s what I’m talking about. Now those are some last words right there, but not good enough to save your life.” 

Casey leveled his gun on JJ’s forehead again, ready to pull the trigger. Y/N cried out, eyes slamming shut, she couldn’t watch this. Sure, her best friend had just admitted to having feelings for her very own boyfriend, but she was still her best friend. 

A gunshot filled the room. Y/N yelped, crying harder, opening her eyes after hearing a thud. Only, JJ was fine and Spencer was holding a gun, panting, keeping eye contact with the aforementioned blonde. Spencer had moved to cut his girl free first, helping her stand. Then he moved to the blonde who had just confessed her undying love for him. 

The brokenhearted girl watched as her boyfriend carefully cut JJ free, an unspoken conversation seemed to be flowing through them. Spencer had a look of peace on his face as Jennifer turned to look at him. It was like they had forgotten that Y/N was in the room, heart breaking. 

Spencer opened his mouth, to say something. To fix it, Y/N hoped. But before he could get the words out, the back door burst open, their team rushing in, and the spell was broken. 

The two moved away from each other. Y/N watched as how her boyfriend seemed to remember she was standing right there. She watched as he turned to face her, reach for her. She watched as he moved to comfort her. 

But before he had the chance, she ripped away from his gaze and left him standing in the small shop. Left him standing in the place where their relationship died. 

—

Six weeks had passed. Six weeks of sitting across from one another. Six weeks of stolen glances and regretful eyes. Six weeks of Y/N wishing, longing for Spencer. Hoping that he would come back to her and just say he was sorry. 

Sorry for pushing her away. Sorry for giving the heartbroken girl the impression that JJ was his girl. Sorry for making her feel like she was a second choice; for acting like nothing ever happened; for everything. 

She he’d been held up in her apartment, surrounded by all the things that reminded her of the pretty boy (apart from work, she barely left. and to say the team was very worried about the young girl was and understatement). Ironic, right? All she wanted was to forget about the curly haired boy and yet, he was all that plagued her mind. 

Y/N was surrounded by boxes, some taped shut and marked with what was inside; others only half filled, things hazardously sticking out the top. The memory that all the packages brought was a stab to her heart and a kick in her stomach. How dare they still be there; unmoved and happy. 

The once happy couple, who were together for almost four years, was all set to move in together. Y/N could almost imagine Spencer in the new, bigger and better, apartment all by himself. She could see him waking up before the sun and pouring himself a cup of too sweet coffee and re-reading books he had already read. She could see it all.

 She hoped it was lonely, that it held the same sadness that she was feeling. She hoped that he was just as miserable. 

She knew he wasn’t though. He couldn’t be. No, he couldn’t be. . . right? He had JJ now. He was happy now; he finally had what he always wanted— the pretty blonde girl that he had been in love with since day one. Day one of the BAU, day one of friendship, day one of birth— the girl that he was always meant to be with. Y/N wasn’t stupid, she knew how much she paled in comparison to the very beautiful girl. 

She could only imagine all the times that Spencer had wished that it was Jennifer Jaraeu instead of his loser of a girlfriend. She imagined all the fantasies that had to be playing in his mind every time they kissed, every time they laughed, every time they touched, every time they made love. 

Maybe that was what hurt the most; knowing that he had always wanted it to be her. The blonde. The beauty. The brains. The everything Y/N was not. 

A very loud ringing broke Y/N away from her intrusive thoughts. Again. She had thrown her phone across the room (not literally, of course. She had just dumped it on the counter along with everything else that she didn’t want to look at). She knew who it was; JJ. It had to be— everyday for the past month she had been calling, trying to apologize, explain, salvage what was left of their friendship. Jennifer had left voicemail after voicemail and text after text, trying to get the heartbroken girl’s attention. 

It wasn’t like Y/N was completely ignoring her old friend—no, she wasn’t that much of an asshole—, she would read all the texts received and listen to the messages (which actually, when she thought about it, that was probably even worse. maybe she was the asshole she tried so hard not to be). 

She even talked to her during cases (of which there had been two since the incident), but the second JJ had brought up anything to do with Spencer or what had happened, Y/N retreated into the shell she had created for herself. Though it wasn’t a perfect situation, it worked. It worked for her and that’s all that mattered. 

What she didn’t expect though, was a knock at her front door. She had considered ignoring it and letting whoever was at her door think she was out or asleep. Or literally anything else that would excuse her not moving from her pathetic slumped position. 

The knocking sounded again before his muffled voice flowed through the door, stopping her heart. “Y/N, I know you’re in there.”

She sighed (he did too). Her heart was in her throat (so was his); she hadn’t seen him outside work for longer than she cared to admit. She stood and felt her body drag her to the wood that separated her and her pretty boy. 

And before she knew what was happening, Y/N was swinging the door open, Spencer was standing before her— distraught. 

“Why do you look like that?” She asked, deadpanning. There’s that asshole bit rearing its ugly head again. It wasn’t fair that he looked so strung out, he did this. This was his fault. Her hand was resting on the door, barricading him out and her in. 

“What?” Genuine confusion crossed his face and Y/N almost felt bad. Almost. “Y/N, we haven’t talked in weeks.”

“We talk at work.” Short and unforgiving. He sighed at her words, running a very gorgeous hand through his curls, breaking apart a few. A part of Y/N, a very, very small part, wished it was her fingers pulling apart his crazy mane. She missed how soft his hair was, the way he smelled. She missed how with just one touch she could feel all of the stress leave his body. She missed how he looked at her. She missed it all and she hated herself because of it. 

“Don’t be so obtuse.” The regretful boy started and Y/N could feel her heart breaking all over again, “I mean, for real. . . Y/N, I miss you— I miss us.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” A knife to his heart, she could tell. Good. He deserved this; he deserved to hurt just as much as he had hurt her. 

“That’s not fair, she—”

“No,” the heartbroken girl began, a sadness in her voice. “you don’t get to decide what’s fair and what’s not— especially when it comes to my feelings, Spencer Reid.”

He was still standing in the hallway, eyes begging to be let in. The pleading didn’t go unnoticed; maybe that’s why she found herself opening the door and dropping her arm, watching as he moved inside. 

He was still her boy. Her beautiful boy. No matter what he or JJ had done, Spencer Reid was still undeniably hers. No matter what she was still under the spell of his gorgeous browns.

The sad boy followed her into the living room, taking in the scene. He felt his breath hitch as his eyes swept over all the boxes and the mess that covered the once happy apartment. He could just about throttle himself; he couldn’t believe he had let this happen. That he had let it get this bad— he was such a fucking idiot. 

Y/N watched as his curious eyes took in everything before him, committing it to his never forgetting memory. She knew that, regardless of anything, he would always come back to this moment. She knew that he would always blame himself. Spencer Reid had such a big heart and that was probably his one and only fault. Regardless of any hurt he may have caused her, she knew deep down that he hadn’t meant to. He would never intentionally hurt anyone, and maybe that’s why she asked her next question:

“Why are you here, Spencer?” She had pulled his eyes back to her. 

Swimming in regret, he said, “I want to fix this.” Y/N had begun to shake her head and opened her mouth but he cut her off, continuing, “Please. . . Y/N, tell me how I can fix this.”

“I-I. . . Spencer, I don’t know if you can.” Heart breaking more than she thought possible. 

Then, he did something she would’ve given her life to never see. 

Spencer got down onto his knees, now eye level with the girl on the old couch. He placed a hesitant hand on her knee and squeezed. When Y/N met his gaze, she felt her heart break its final piece. His eyes were glossed over with unshed tears and when he spoke his voice was wet with the cries he was trying so hard to push down. And Y/N hated it. 

“Y/N. . . please,” he was begging. Begging to be heard, to be forgiven, for her. Just begging. 

Against her own wishes, Y/N’s hand reached out and pushed back the hair like she had been wanting to since he showed up at her doorstep. “Spencer, I— There’s things we’d have to talk about— questions I have. I-I can’t just jump back in, we have to talk about—”

“Then ask me.” The crying boy rushed out, sniffing. “Ask me anything.”

Y/N sighed. Did she really want to do this right now? Could she handle this? 

“Do you love her?” It spilled from her lips before she knew what she was asking. She didn’t regret it.

His answer spilled from his too, “Yes.” Maybe she did. 

Tears spilled from her eyes and she struggled to hold down a sob. It came out as a watery laugh and she stood up, forcing his hands off her body. She closed her arms around herself, another barricade from the boy who refuses to stop breaking her heart into a million little pieces. He stood up too, reaching a hand to connect them together again but decided against it, too afraid of being rejected. 

Her mind was running a mile a minute. She was kicking herself for trusting a man who was so clearly into another woman— a married woman. She was so angry that he led her on for so long. She wanted to throttle him; she could’ve too, if she really wanted to. As much as she wanted to, she knew her body would never do it. As angry as she was, her body was still irrevocably in love with Spencer Reid. 

“Then why are you here?” It was dangerous. She half wished he wouldn’t answer, she didn’t know if she could handle the answer. 

His reply was slow to start, she wondered if he had even heard her, “. . . Because, I love you, too. I love you differently.”

“What?” She was tired. So, so fucking tired. 

She felt his hand place itself on her shoulder, she didn’t react. She didn’t move, didn’t lean into it. She just froze and waited for his response. Spencer surprised her for a third time. His hand moved down to her elbow, turning her around gently before starting his monologue. Her eyes stayed glued to the ground as he spoke. 

“Y/N, I’ve known JJ for over 14 years. When I first met her, sure I wanted her to notice me,” he paused to laugh before continuing, “I even tried to take her on a date one time. . . she ended up inviting Penelope. . . I was mortified. . . that’s not my point. Hell, I don’t really know what I’m saying. I tried for so long. I tried to get her to notice me, but then she met Will and then she had Henry and everything got so complicated. And I realized, Y/N, that I had to let her go, and then I met you and everything changed.”

Y/N’s eyes finally met his brown ones. She echoed him, “Everything changed?”

Sappy and clumsily, he laughed, “Yeah. Y/N, everything— everything changed. Suddenly, instead of wondering what Jennifer thought I was thinking about you— thinking how to talk to you, what you liked, if you liked me. God, I was so into you back then. . . I still am. I won’t lie to you, Y/N, I never have and I won’t start now. Yes, I love JJ. I think I always will, it’s just different. I love her, but I’m in love with you. And I always will be, I-I mean, you’re my girl.” 

During his confession, Y/N had moved closer. She had hesitantly placed her hands on his chest, where they belonged— she realized. “Spencer. . .”

His eyes were soft as they gazed down at her. They held love— the love that she had seen focused on JJ all those weeks ago. He brought a hand up to her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone. It felt like it was forever, them just looking— gazing, falling back in love. Then, she watched as her boy started, very, very slowly, to lean down. She felt his lips just barely brush against hers, his breath fanning her face as he spoke. “Y/N, please.”

And that was all that it took. The desperation in his voice was what made her finally, finally, connect their lips. It was just as wonderful as she remembered. His lips fumbled lazily against hers; she could feel the love though the sloppy kiss. He had brought his other hand up, fisting her hair into a messy bunch. Her hands pulled him closer, her lips spreading as she felt Spencer’s tongue dart across her lips, asking to be let in. His name fell from her lips in a hungry manner, she wanted him. She needed him. The only sound in the small apartment was their moans and the noise of them reconnecting. In between kisses, Spencer managed to sneak in the few words Y/N was sure she’d never tire of hearing.

“I. . kiss. . love you. . . kiss kiss. . so much. kiss. . .Y/N.” She had smiled against his lips, feeling like everything would be okay. While she knew they had more than enough healing to do (both together and apart), she also knew that she wasn’t going to lose him anytime soon. And that was all that mattered, because the rest would figure itself out. 

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone's Symphony | Day Two / Part One | Hades

Hey lovelies this isn't completely done (this chapter, I mean) but this was a good spot to post it because it's been a while and I'm proud of this part. The next part will be about the same length (I'm guessing) and will be the long awaited bathtub scene! enjoy, and sorry for how ramble-y this chapter is. It's on purpose LOL!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: PTSD in action on both parts, self-loathing

Word count: 2.7k

Previous | Next

Master List

Maybe saying yes is the wrong answer. It certainly goes against the protocol his commander explicitly told him to follow.

Stay inside, Barnes. Keep the curtains closed, limit the amount of lights on inside the house. Don’t let her out of your sight— not even for a second.

It was all basic, day one things that any rookie would know. Bucky is a lot of things but he isn’t a rookie— he’s been around the block his fair share of times and then some. Still, the last thing his commander had told him rings through his ears as he crosses the threshold of the Wilson’s family residence and feels the sun, warm and steady on his face— and on his one, good arm— for the first time in twenty-four hours.

Be a ghost, Barnes, or you might just become one; you understand me?

Bucky had answered yes, again— obviously. Maybe that’s just a thing he does; saying yes when he doesn’t know what else to say. Saying yes when he should be saying anything but.

But what?

But it’s not like it really matters— there was no other choice that time. He’s a soldier, he was given his orders, and— whether he likes it or not— Bucky always follows his orders.

The door creaks shut behind him, a little loud for his liking but the sound of the willow trees snapping in the yard are enough to drown it out for the most part— Well, Bucky always follows most of his orders.

That was also before everything went straight to hell, though— before no one thought to tell him that he's not dealing with a victim; he’s dealing with a survivor. Fucking military— he should have known they’d leave the important details out. They’ve been shoddy since the forties, always squirreling away information from the little guys. Eighty years later, one hundred and six years old, and he’s still a little guy. No closer to gaining an invite to the big kid table than he was at twenty-six when he still had two good arms. If anything he’s further away now, begging for scraps when there was once a point in his life where he at least had a seat somewhere.

With someone.

Nothing’s changed— nothing will change and he doesn’t expect it to— but this time there’s a difference.

There’s a big one.

It’s the canyon between grief and watching your family get slaughtered in front of you; the insurmountable jump from longing for those you’ve lost and having them ripped away from you so violently that you can’t function. Can’t sleep. Wake up scared. Jump away from every touch, every noise, like every shattered vase is out to personally kill you—

Why the fuck wouldn’t they tell him that the girl he’s supposed to be protecting has PTSD? He may be old— the term may be different now— in his day they used to call it shellshock— but it’s yet another thing that hasn’t changed. Nothing ever changes; not really— not for him.

Soldier.

Scientist.

Same fucking difference— the signs are still the same and she has all of them.

He would know— he should have known from the moment he walked through the door— they should have told him!

He saw the pictures. Saw the scarlet circles and lifeless eyes and blood. Fuck, there was so much blood and that was just a grainy photpgraph from a junky projector! He couldn’t smell it— couldn’t taste it— through the pictures but he has an imagination— well, what’s left of one at least. He can’t say he didn’t leave most of his creativity in those hills of Austria— gods only know he left most of everything else there— but even if he had left all of it he wouldn’t have to dig far for a memory of his own. They don’t tell you as a soldier that fresh blood smells like rotting honey— that it lingers in your clothes and hair and on your goddamn lips for hours.

Soldier.

Shooter.

Fucking psychopath with a gun and one arm and snow still shoved so far down his throat that he can’t breathe—

No, if they don’t bother telling their soldiers then there’s no way anyone thought to tell the cherry pie angel. They probably thought it would ruin her sweetness. They probably didn’t even think to tell her at all. Bucky definitely didn’t. He should have. If he had, maybe he would have been able to catch her before the flies ate through her wings completely. Maybe if he had just done his damn job instead of being sucked in by the sticky marmalade of her laughter then he would have seen the way she was melting right in front of his face. July in Brooklyn does that to a person.

It brings the flies to the cherry pie.

The flies to the rotting honey.

The flies to too fucking late— he had twenty-four hours and instead of doing something he just let her sink. Some guard dog he is.

Bucky watches as she gingerly sits on the edge of the white swing, her movements stiff, almost mechanical. She lifts her feet as soon as she’s down, toes hanging a good few inches off the ground as they curl around the thick bayou air, clenching and unclenching rhythmically. They never touch the bamboo mat and her eyes never lift from the shoreline— not even when he takes a couple measured steps towards her. It’s unnerving, to say the very least.

“We can’t stay out here too long.” Bucky isn’t used to speaking this quietly but it feels like if he doesn’t level his voice to match the whispering of the wind across the bulrushes then he’ll be hurting her more than he already has.

Her answer isn’t any louder than his— the only reason he even hears it at all is because he refuses to look away from her. He only hears her because his eyes are already on her lips, willing her to stop sinking her teeth into the soft flesh. Please, please, please stop—

“I just need a few minutes.”

Her eyes are wide and rimmed with red, toes continuing to work against the breeze with the same automatic movements. Clench. Unclench. Clench. Unclench. He doesn’t understand. It’s like she’s trying to work the feeling back into them— or maybe like she doesn’t know that she’s doing it at all. Hell, if the way her eyes have glassed over means anything then he would wager that there’s a good chance she doesn’t even fully know she’s outside. Yeah, that’s shellshock alright. Clench. Unclench. Clench. He doesn’t realize he’s copying her movements until his jaw aches.

Unclench.

“I know, doll. I—” He finally tears his gaze from her rigid figure— from her bruised lips— looking as well to the horizon. Maybe she’s on to something; maybe the waves will tell him how to help her— “I know.”

Can they tell him how to help himself? He shuffles forward again, stopping at the edge of the swing, gaze sweeping from the water to the barriers of the premise. Who is he kidding— of course they can’t. This isn’t about his salvation anymore. Those days have more than come and gone. Now it’s about hers— it’s about an assignment and keeping ten toes and ten fingers connected to two legs and two arms. Right now is about an order and Bucky Barnes can certainly follow orders— maybe that’s all he can do.

He gives the shaking girl who— despite everything— is swathed so prettily in the shade of the porch another once over.

Maybe but maybe not too.

Maybe he can’t follow orders at all.

Maybe he can’t afford to think about it for too long.

Because if he can’t follow orders then what can he do?

Bucky is still staring at her when she speaks again but her sudden words still make him jump nonetheless. “There’s room.” Her voice falters for a moment, lips hanging open and eyes faraway, before she continues. “If you want to sit, I mean. There’s room.”

He shouldn’t— he knows he shouldn’t, sitting isn���t a part of his orders— but he does. He couldn’t say no to her if he wanted to.

“Thanks.”

He definitely doesn’t want to say no to her.

“Sure.” Her voice is barely a hum— barely there at all— and he can’t choose whether to look at her lips or her fingers, which are now following suit.

Clench, unclench. Clench, unclench.

It’s an impossible decision— much like the ones from his days as a soldier— but it demands a choice from him nonetheless— unlike the ones from his days as a pawn. Her nails drag over the wood, snagging every so often, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Clench. Can she even feel him next to her? Back in the day— before that day— he used to watch his comrades do the same thing. He used to do the same thing. Sometimes he still does. He knows exactly what he would want someone to do for him.

He makes the choice for an impossible decision, wrapping his hand around hers until their fingers are laced together. “You can talk to me, if you want.”

It seems to work, if only marginally, because she stiffens for a moment, fingers flexing around his. Bucky can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, the way she grips his hand so unsure of herself. Is she unsure of herself, though, or is she still lost somewhere in the depths of her mind, drowning in her rotten honey thoughts?

Her hand stills— an answer in itself— before her voice, slowed as though stopped by lips that have been glued shut, sounds. “Do you ever feel like you’re drowning?”

It’s not what he’s expecting but what else is new— neither was she and yet he’s here, listening to the moments they’re allowed to be outside— all of zero moments, that is— tick away as her toes clench and unclench.

Tick, tick, tick— what would his commander say.

“Yes.”

Steve used to ask him the same thing, Bucky adds silently, but only when they got older.

He supplies, “I think maybe that’s a part of being human.”

Tick, tick, tick— his commander wouldn’t say anything, he would just put Bucky on probation.

Still, he doesn’t rush her— he can’t. He won’t. She just told him she’s drowning; he’s not going to be the ocean to her frenzied attempts to stay afloat. He’ll just hold her hand, and keep looking over her shoulder, and then over his own, and when the time comes he’ll tell her they have to go, because that’s what she’s expecting. He would know— there have been times he’s wanted someone to do the same for him.

Tick, tick, tick— this is worth probation.

“I don’t think I like being human.” She hums back.

No, Bucky wants to say— no, I don’t either, doll.

Being human sucks and he’s not very good at it. He would know, he’s been a lot of things— been compared to a lot of things. Robot. Popsicle. Dog— yeah, he’s a real jack of all trades and so far human isn’t near the top of his ‘favourites’ list. Maybe that’s because if he wasn’t human then he wouldn’t be any of the other things either— maybe if he wasn’t human then he wouldn’t be so easily turned into a monster.

Tick, tick, tick— maybe.

Tick, tick, tick— have his thoughts always been so disorganized?

Tick, tick, tick— maybe it’s the shellshock.

Bucky doesn’t say any of that, of course.

What he does say is— “What would you like to be instead?” —as if he can make everything all better himself.

He can try, at least. He’s been compared to a slave too. Being hers doesn’t sound all that bad.

Thunder rolls over head and it sounds more like a grandfather clock— or the impatient tapping of his commander’s fingers— than anything Bucky’s ever heard. Still, he waits to move. Tick, tick, tick. He waits for a lot of things.

Bucky waits for the sky to turn grey— for the first droplets to mix with the salty bay air and blow against his neck and face.

It’s familiar, the sticky, salty rain, and he isn’t expecting it.

He isn’t expecting Delacroix to remind him so much of his own home in Brooklyn.

He isn’t expecting the way that sitting next to this soft creature feels so much like sitting on the docks with Steve the summer before his enlistment. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning— Steve had said it at one hundred but he may as well have said it then, at eighteen, too. Because little did Bucky know, Steve had always felt a little bit like he was drowning and now Bucky, at one hundred and six, always feels a little bit like a bad friend.

Like a bad brother.

Like a bad dog— he should have scented it out all those years ago but instead he just waited.

Tick, tick, tick— all he does is wait.

Bucky waits for her to squeeze his hand once more— for her tiny fingers to alert him that she’s ready to move.

Maybe if Bucky had waited until Steve had told him that he was ready all those years ago then Steve would have waited for Bucky to be ready too. Because as he sits here, his skin turning swampy in the sticky, salty rain he realizes that no, he wasn’t ready for Steve Rogers to leave him behind.

He wasn’t ready to face the world alone.

He wasn’t even ready to face Brooklyn alone. Sometimes he still waits at the deli for him and orders the hero sandwich because even though he doesn’t like the absurd amount of pickles, Steve always had. Maybe if he eats enough— and waits long enough— then Steve will come back.

Tick, tick, tick— for a man who isn’t patient, Bucky Barnes sure does do a lot of waiting.

Bucky waits for her answer— because that’s what matters most. Not Steve’s wishes, not his commander’s impatient tapping, not even his own nostalgia that’s starting to make him, too, feel like he’s drowning. He used to love swimming in the Atlantic but when he licks his lips and tastes salt he’s sure it would take a miracle to get him to go in again. It would take a hundred years— or maybe just eighteen— and a push from a man who left Bucky almost as fast as Bucky had left him.

“I want to be a god—” she says it so suddenly that he jolts, eyes scanning their surroundings before realizing it’s just her determined, honey hollow voice sounding from next to him— “I want to be god— or invincible— or anyone but me, I think. I just don’t want to be me anymore. So yeah, I want to be a god.”

She still sounds so far away. Like she’s underwater— like Steve that time he wanted to see if Bucky could hear him scream from under the surf. He couldn’t but he told Steve he could. It doesn’t matter anymore— not right now. Only she does and her airy confession.

It makes Bucky’s heart clench and, as a reflex, so does his hand.

He releases the pressure accordingly— in his hand, not his heart— unclench— and as he does she adds— “and I want to take a bath.”

In that moment, despite his worry for her, he’s ecstatic she isn’t looking at him because if she had been then she would have seen the way his jaw drops. It takes him a moment to answer— a moment to pull himself out of the gutter his frozen-robot-dog brain drags him to— but he settles on one thought in surprisingly record time.

He can’t make her a god but he can sure as hell watch her back if she wants to take a bath.

He can’t make it all better but he can do that no problem.

So of course he stands, squeezing her hand one last time before saying, “okay, doll.”

Maybe Bucky is following orders after all. Maybe it’s a matter of choosing which— whose— orders to follow.

____________

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[dindjarindiaries]

Before You Know It

summary: Your best friend Javier returns from his venture to Colombia much different than how he left you.

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

warnings: alcohol abuse, mentions of violence, blood, and being a sexual object, personal trauma, angst, fluff

inspiration: part of this fic is loosely inspired by this brilliant work by @longitud-de-onda! thank you, love, for such a beautiful fic (that made me cry, mind you!). please check it out!

rating: R

word count: 4.868k

You place your hands on your hips as you sigh, looking around the vacant room. You’ve been helping your best friend, Javier, move his things out of his bedroom at the home he shares with his father, so his father can use the space for something more efficient while he’s away on his new job. Thinking of it makes your stomach turn unpleasantly, but nevertheless, you keep a strong face for Javier.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and you look over to see Javier standing there with an expression of gratitude. “Thank you so much,” he says genuinely. “Your help made this a lot easier.”

“Hey, how could I not help get you out of here faster, Javi?” you joke, causing Javier to chuckle and shake his head in return. You observe his gaze to see the sheer excitement he’s feeling, and you wish you could feel the same thing for him—but, sadly, the thought of him going off to a foreign country to track down drug lords doesn’t sound very appealing to you.

You and Javier have been best friends ever since kindergarten. With neighboring desks and nervous feelings, you both started talking and clicked right away. Soon, you were barely spending a minute apart from each other. It helped that Javier’s house and farm was just a ten-minute bike ride down the road from yours. You shared everything with each other—answers to homework, life struggles, every single summer night—up through high school. He was like an extension of yourself, a foundation for the shaky life you had growing up. With an abundance of alcohol in the house and two very stubborn parents, fights were a daily occurrence, and Javier was always there to rescue you from the chaos. You knew the loss of his mother had deeply impacted him, and so you became his solace in the midst of his ever-present grief. You knew everything about each other, and that made it hurt like hell when the time came for you to part—just a bit farther than usual.

Javier decided to attend Texas A&M University-Kingsville, while you ambitiously went to University of Texas in Austin. You were a three-and-a-half-hour drive apart, a trip you each would’ve taken if either of you had a car. It was much different from the ten-minute bike trip down the road. Still, you stayed in touch with letters and spent your summers catching up on all you’d lost out on. After you’d both graduated, you moved back to Kingsville to figure out your life while Javier began training with the DEA—and now, some years later, he’s finally being positioned somewhere interesting in the field.

What you hadn’t expected from all of this was the way you’d feel about him. Javier was actually your first kiss, the result of a deal you’d made as eight-year-olds. You’d decided that, if you both hadn’t kissed anyone by the end of sixth grade, you’d kiss each other—just so you could tell your potential partners that you did have the experience. By the end of sixth grade, neither one of you had the experience under your belt yet, so you’d shared it with each other. And you know it sounds ridiculous, especially now as a grown woman, but that’s the exact moment you knew you had feelings for your best friend—but you didn’t have the courage to ruin your friendship.

So, you stayed silent. All those years. When you and Javier started dating other people, you tried to push those feelings away, putting them into the corners of your heart and attempting to drown them in other boys. But it never worked. You knew the truth, especially whenever you saw Javier with his girlfriends. You never told him, but you had cried at your senior prom when you saw him dancing with Lorraine, and you declined the offer to join him at an afterparty because you knew you’d have to see him get into a tent with her and do exactly what you wanted to do with him. But that was nothing compared to the day Javier showed you the ring he bought for her, and when you got their wedding invitation in the mail. It fucking hurt. Yet, you’d still comforted him all the same when Javier came to your house on his wedding day, telling you he couldn’t do it. You wanted to tell him the truth, but you couldn’t. Not when he was hurt.

And now, he’s leaving you—for fucking Medellín. Colombia. Much more than a simple ten-minute bike ride or three-and-a-half-hour car drive. You can’t even send letters, because Javier’s told you it’ll be pointless. The mail system sucks, and it’d take months until you’d hear from each other. So, it’s a bit difficult to share Javier’s excitement at going down to Colombia, especially with that painful feeling in your chest you’ve been carrying ever since the sixth grade.

Javier’s voice saying your name suddenly floods your hearing, and you turn quickly to see him staring at you. Some of the excitement in his gaze has subsided for concern as he studies your stiff nature. “You alright?”

“Yeah!” you assure him with a wave of your hand. “Just hungry, honestly.”

Javier smiles. “As always.” You scoff, punching his shoulder as he chuckles. “I’ll order some takeout, and then we can have a drink.”

You nod, liking the plan as you follow him out of the bedroom. Javier’s father’s still outside, utilizing every bit of daylight he can on the farm. You ask Javier if you should help, and he shakes his head, saying that he was given strict instructions not to let you lift a single finger on anything other than his own belongings. You laugh, accepting the can of beer Javier offers once he’s called for the delivery.

You hope the alcohol will blind some of the pain in your chest, but it doesn’t. You watch as Javier’s lips move, his dark gaze sparkling as he talks all about what he’s going to do in Colombia, all the work he’s done to get there—but you don’t hear anything. You try to engage, nodding your head and maintaining his eye contact, but you can’t process anything. He’s acting like leaving you is easy, like everything’s going to be great and you’re not going to suffer here alone in Kingsville at the teaching job you’ve just started—at the same grade school where you met him. Guilt fills you at this feeling: you’re supposed to be excited for your best friend and the dreams he’s achieving, but the pain of the loss is overbearing.

Javier finally notices this, and his lips slow as he puts down his beer and wraps his hand around yours. “Hey,” he starts softly, looking over from where he’s sitting beside you on the couch. “I know the whole distance and time spent apart thing’s gonna be hard.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep the tears away as you continue returning his look. “That’s an understatement.” You muster a chuckle, although nothing about this is amusing to you.

“But I won’t be there forever.” Javier lifts his brow, hoping to see some sort of change in you at his words. It works—your tense shoulders relax just a bit, causing him to smile. “And the minute I’m back in Kingsville, we’ll catch up. Alright?”

You nod, closing your eyes as you wearily rest your head on his flannel-covered shoulder. He releases your hand to wrap an arm around you, giving you a comforting side-hug as you sit there. When you finally sit back up, Javier’s giving you yet another reassuring smile.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

Those words stick in your mind, allowing you to relax enough to hold a fun conversation over the takeout dinner and get you closer to the front door. You can barely get the goodbye out of your throat when the time comes, and you embrace him for at least a few minutes straight as you hide your face in his shoulder. You take that time to breathe in what you can—the feeling of his arms around you, his familiar and comforting scent, the sweet nothings he says into your ear to keep you calm. When you pull away, you hope to see some of the same love you feel in your heart reflected in his eyes—but all that’s there is excitement and slight sadness. With a sigh, you leave the house, and as soon as you’re in your car, the tears start falling. You cry the entire night.

Javier leaves on his flight the next morning. Half of you wanted to drive to the airport and tell him everything you’ve been holding back since sixth grade, and the more rational half of you told you to leave it. Who were you to give him a reason not to pursue his dreams? You knew how hard he’d worked to get to where he was, and as his best friend and secret lover, you would’ve hated to hold him back from that—no matter how painful it was.

It was years until you saw him again. Many years.

You’ve started to forget what he looks like. Are his eyes really that dark? What does he smell like again? Is his voice smooth or raspy? Everything’s getting lost in your mind as you overthink it all. Yet, you can never truly forget him. He’s still there, haunting you every day, driving you crazy in the waiting. You’ve still tried to date other people, but it never works out, and secretly you know why. You follow the news closely, seeing the horrors of Pablo Escobar and praying to God that Javier isn’t risking his life over that psychopath as much as you think he is. You have dinners with Javier’s father occasionally, asking if he’s heard from his son. He knows just as much as yourself. You’re then left with whatever memories of him you can remember, sitting alone in your apartment and never knowing when you can see him again.

So, when the knock comes at your apartment door one evening, you’re confused as to who the hell would be paying you a visit at nearly ten o’ clock at night. You open the door cautiously, your jaw practically dropped to the floor at what—or rather, who—you see.

“Javi?” you breathe, your tone coated in disbelief. He looks much different than he did all those years ago, having grown out a fitting mustache, exchanging his flannel for a fitted button-up t-shirt, and letting his hair get a bit messier than usual. He’s grown into a man—a man you’re still helplessly in love with.

Javier breathes your name in the same tone as you, his gaze floating up and down as he takes you in. Then, in a quick moment, he wraps his arms around you, causing you to smile as you rest your face in the leather jacket that covers his shoulder. His familiar scent comes back to you, but this time mixing with a new cologne and faint smoke. You stay there until Javier pulls away, his hands falling on your shoulders as he stares at you in disbelief. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” His voice sounds raspier than it used to, and you hate the way it makes your heart skip so easily. He observes you again, instinctively making your cheeks heat up at the attention he’s giving you. “Did you get more beautiful while I was gone?”

You scoff, giving his shoulder a light punch as he laughs a bit. He was always one to give you a compliment like that before, so you’ve already trained yourself to think nothing of it. “You haven’t changed a bit, Javi,” you say. Javier visibly tenses at your words, and that’s when you take in the true differences. His dark gaze is missing something—that sparkle of his isn’t there anymore—and there’s more wrinkles around his eyes and brow, along with permanent circles under his eyes. Evidently, he has changed, just not in a way you can easily uncover. “What brings you back?”

“I’m done in Medellín,” Javier explains, but you can tell that there’s more to it than he’s telling you. “I’ll be working here, now.” Your eyes widen in slight excitement, but you try to hide it, since you can tell that something about it is upsetting Javier greatly. He continues, “I told you the first thing I’d do when I got back is catch you up, so… here I am. And I… really needed to see you.”

Your heart practically breaks at the longing in Javier’s voice. Your concern for him has now grown tenfold as the darkness in his eyes starts taking over. You nod, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you came, Javi. We can talk as much as you want to. Did you want to stay here, or—?”

“I was hoping we could go home,” Javier interjects, almost sounding timid at his request.

You immediately know what he’s talking about. Home is a hill further down the long stretch of road you and Javier grew up on. The hill is in a remote place with a flat top, offering views of many different city lights and lush nature. You’d called it home because it was the place you always went together—and, for you, it was the place where you’d fallen in love with him. So, you don’t hesitate to give him a nod when he suggests it. “Of course, Javi. I’ll grab some drinks and then I’ll drive.”

Javier nods, waiting at the doorframe as you head into the kitchen and take the six-pack of beers you just bought. You grab your keys on the way, figuring you won’t need a jacket in the warm Texas night as you lead the way down to your car. The drive starts out silent, but you break it by deciding to talk about your life first—hoping the rest can just be about Javier.

“It’s been the same old shit around here, Javi,” you inform him, pleased to get a chuckle out of him. “The kids at school, they remind me a lot of us sometimes.”

“Really?” Javier questions, revealing some amusement as he looks over at you.

“Yeah,” you agree with a giggle. “Especially the ones who won’t stop talking in the middle of class.”

Javier snorts. “That was always your fault.”

You scoff. “Excuse me? Weren’t you the one who felt the need to point out whenever Pauline started chewing on her pencil like a rabid dog every day?”

Javier offers a laugh—but it’s not like how it used to be, and upon hearing it, you feel your heart sink a bit into your stomach. “But was I the one who felt the need to talk about how disgusting it was?”

You shake your head, smiling a bit. “Well, anyway, it’s been good. I’ve just missed having you to talk to about the other crazy teachers and my weird next-door neighbor.”

Javier looks back to the windshield. “I’ve missed having you, too.” It almost sounds like he chokes on his words as his gaze shifts to the window beside him. “You have no idea.”

A pit grows in your stomach as you stop the car just below the hill, stepping out of the car and opening the door to the backseat. Javier grabs the beers for you, and you take the blanket you always keep there as you hike up the hill in silence. Once you reach the top, you feel a wave of nostalgia hit you, and you smile at the sight of the city lights in the distance. You lay out the blanket and invite Javier to sit on it beside you. He hands you a beer that you crack open, sighing and looking over at him. “So, how was Medellín?” you question. “Was it everything you dreamed it would be?”

Javier scoffs, taking a sip of the beer as his gaze stays glued to the city lights. “Everything and more.” The way he says the words is intensely sarcastic, and his gaze falls to the can in his hand as his forefinger and thumb play with the tab. He’s silent for a moment, and you’re not sure how to break it—or if you should. You give him the time to think, or at least show that he wants you to talk, but he soon breaks it himself. “It fucked me up.”

You frown upon hearing the words. “What the hell happened out there, Javi? I saw the news. I saw what Escobar was up to. What was it like for you?”

Javier takes a deep breath, taking another sip of the beer as if to drown his memories. “It was a shitshow.” He finally looks over at you, and your heart constricts at the sight of his darkened gaze. “People want to call me a hero, but… I’m not.” He lets out a strangled breath, his eyes facing the lights once again. “I’m about as much of a hero as Escobar himself.”

You nearly let out a whimper at his self-deprivation, placing your free hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure that’s not true, Javi,” you reassure him. He just shakes his head slowly. “Whatever you were doing, it was just your job—that’s nothing compared to Escobar’s terrorism.”

“You know what my mantra was down there?” Javier pauses, scoffing before he says the words. “‘Sometimes you gotta do bad things to catch bad people.’ Tell me that’s not fucking twisted.”

You shrug at him. “Escobar’s been doing some pretty fucked-up things himself. I’m sure you were—.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Javier lets the words slip in an urgent manner, his voice constricted as his grip around the beer can tightens. “You have no idea what I did out there.” He pauses, swallowing hard as he’s unable to look back over at you. “You would’ve hated me. You still might. I wasn’t the person you grew up with. I wasn’t the person my father raised me to be. I wasn’t…” Javier chokes on his words for a second, further breaking your heart before he continues, “… I wasn’t the person my mother was so sure I’d be.”

You resist the urge to cup his face in your hands right then and there and assure him that he is in fact the man you grew up with—the man you fell in love with—instead sitting there and offering your ears to him. “Why? What did you do, Javi?”

Silence. Javier takes another sip of his beer, holding it in both of his hands once he finishes. His thumbs run nervously along the sides of the metal can, and his eyes still refuse to leave the sights ahead of you. “I killed people.” The first words escape him in a ghostly murmur, leaving a chill to run through you. “I tortured some. I blackmailed many. I…” Javier bites his lip, and you feel the pit in your stomach only grow when you spot the moisture growing on the surface of his eyes, “… I practically fucking sold myself for information.”

You’re not sure what to say, so you take a sip of your drink, continuing to look over at Javier and show him you’re listening. When he still doesn’t talk, you try to ease him just a bit. “It can’t be as bad as the things the cartel was doing.”

Javier shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Because you know what?” He finally looks over at you, his self-hatred evident in his gaze. “You want to know why I’m back now?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Because I got caught. I was working with Los Pepes. Fucking Los Pepes. A goddamn terrorist group.” Javier shakes his head, having to break himself away from your gaze again. “Who the hell even am I anymore? What the fuck did I let myself become?”

The brokenness in his voice is enough to make you want to break down into tears, but you stay strong for him, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder again. “That was a war you were dealing with down there, Javi. And wars take some seriously shitty circumstances to get a victory.” Javier scoffs at that, as if to agree with you. “You can’t beat yourself up for it. I’m sure many others around you had to do the same things.”

Javier shakes his head, closing his eyes for a long moment. When he reopens them, they’re even glossier than before. “No one else had to—because I did. I was the person they relied on to do the illegal shit.”

You grimace at his words. “Why would they put you in a position like that?”

“They didn’t.” Javier practically growls the words. “I did it to myself. The minute I fucked an informant and it proved effective, that was the only way to get shit done. When they let that slide, it just fueled everything else, and soon I was doing whatever shit I could get away with to get anything on Escobar.”

Your stomach drops at his words. You assume this is what he meant by “selling himself”—and you can tell the strategy has left a heavy toll on him. “How many informants did you have to see?”

Javier takes a deep breath. “Too many.” He shakes his head, biting his lip to keep his emotions in check before continuing. “I used them. And I let them use me. And I practically whored myself out all the time just for a goddamn crumb on a drug lord.” Javier’s eyes close, and his head falls as he takes a shaky breath. “Do you know how worthless that made me feel? All that intimate connection with absolutely no strings attached. My own bosses getting on my case if I hadn’t gotten information in a while. Depending on me to get a fuck in so they could keep chasing Escobar.”

His voice begins to break, and you see his chest attempting to heave back a breath. Your heart shatters in your chest, breaking beyond belief. “I felt like a piece of shit. And that’s probably what let me do everything else so easily. Who would care if I pulled a trigger? I was worthless, anyway—at least it wasn’t an actual decent human being doing it.” Javier looks back up, a tear managing to escape his eye as he tries to hide it from you. “And I hated myself for all of it. I still do.” He stifles a sob as he finishes. “I fucking hate myself.”

You can’t resist the urge anymore, and you set your drink beside you on the blanket as you take his face in your hands. You make him face you again, and you can see the other tears that have managed to make their way onto his cheeks. Your thumbs attempt to brush them away as you look at him seriously. “Don’t, Javi. You’re not any of the things you think you are. You were just put in a shitty situation with terrible circumstances—and you did what you could with it. You’re worth everything. What matters now is that you know it was wrong.” You catch another escaped tear with your thumb, hating the sight of him breaking so badly in front of you. “If you had to do it all again, would you?”

Javier blinks a few times before shaking his head. You give him an encouraging smile.

“Then that’s enough to prove that you’re not the man you think you are. You’ve grown from this. You reached a deep and dark place, and that happens. But to me, you’re still the same man I grew up with, the same man I’ve been waiting so long for.” You hesitate, wondering if you should finish the thought. At the sight of Javier’s utterly broken heart being placed so visibly on his sleeve, you can’t help yourself from offering the same kind of openness back to him. “You’re still the same man I fell in love with—a long, long time ago.”

Javier’s eyes soften at your words, but disbelief fills his expression. He swallows hard, almost looking confused. “Fell in love with?”

You give him a nod, anxiety creating a storm inside you as you run another thumb over his cheek. “Ever since the sixth grade.”

Javier sighs, his hands grabbing yours and gently removing them from his face. You panic for a moment, fearing that you’ve said too much and done exactly what you’ve feared you’d do for so long with this confession, but it subsides when he holds them both tenderly between his own. His gaze looks down at them but returns to you soon after. “You have no idea how badly I needed you there with me. I thought about you every day. Every damn day. And in those moments when I thought a trigger was gonna get pulled on me, I always saw your face—and I always regretted that I never told you the way I felt.” Javier sighs, giving your hands a squeeze. “Because I’ve loved you for so long. And I always tried to hide it, or at least deny it. Yet, inevitably, it followed me everywhere. It got me out of every single high school relationship. It tore me apart from that altar. It made me realize how much I needed you when I was giving everything to strangers in Medellín.” Javier shakes his head, looking at you with a furrowed brow. “But I don’t understand how you could possibly love me now. Not after all of that.”

You bite your lip in an attempt to keep your own emotions away, shaking your head back at him. “It’s because I know who you really are, Javi. I know the man I grew up with, the man who got on that plane to Colombia, and I still know the man who’s sitting in front of me now. I know that you can grow, and you can pick yourself back up from the worst of tumbles.” You free one of your hands from his to hold his cheek once again, feeling your heart soar as he leans desperately into your touch. “I know that I thought of you every day, too. That I lost sleep over your well-being. That whenever I saw what the hell Escobar was up to, I regretted not telling you how I felt—because I wasn’t sure if you’d even make it back here. And now I know that I’m going to help you keep growing from here.” You start leaning your face closer to Javier’s, waiting until you can feel his labored breathing on your face. You look deep into his dark eyes, the ones you fell in love with so long ago, and offer him a small smile. “Because I love you, Javier Peña, and you can’t make me stop so easily.”

Javier smiles back at you, and for the first time since you’d seen him again, you see that old sparkle come back in his gaze. “I love you too.” His voice is a hushed whisper, and he brushes his lips against yours. “More than you’ll ever know.”

With that, his lips press fully against yours, causing your heart to explode within your chest at the contact you’ve been waiting way too damn long for. The way his lips move against yours is so familiar and so right, making every moment you’ve waited more than worth it. You crave more of him, loving the way he takes you into his arms and pulls you closer to him. Yet, knowing it’s still an adjustment for him, you pull away from Javier much sooner than wanted, bringing your other hand up to hold both sides of his face once again. His dark eyes are still sparkling, and he finally starts to look as full of life as he did the day he left.

“Don’t worry, Javi,” you assure him in a soft murmur. “We’ll get the real you back before you know it.” You lean up to place a kiss on his forehead, seeing Javier smile even wider at you before he captures your lips in another breathtaking kiss.

[jj-ktae]

·9· Omniscient - Prompt Game -

Title : Omniscient Pairing : Park Jinyoung x Fem!Reader Genre : Ennemies to lovers, fluff, angst. Words : 2588 Summary : Jinyoung has always been here, aware and knowing of everything about you. You can’t stand his pettiness and judgemental stare but when you hear about him moving abroad, you agree to work for his uncle’s company. You don’t expect him to come back and make your life miserable again.

Prompt :

11. “Oh, how I wonder why you’re so annoying yet so attractive.” 32. “Then just kiss me…”

--

Omniscient 

He is back. 

Out of everyone you don’t wish to see, the worst of them is before you. He makes you take a deep breath and close your eyes, doing your best not to burst out in tears because of course it could only be him.

Why the fuck did you accept the job at his uncle’s company?

You seriously thought this wouldn’t happen. Jinyoung had a big mouth about ambition and leaving this hell-hole he called home. He used to laugh evilly at your mediocre grades, his eyes looking at you with pure disgust as he muttered how hard life was going to be if you kept doing so poorly. 

You would shove him away every single time, chirping insults and making him laugh harder.

Oh, Jinyoung loved riling you up. 

Your office turns smaller than it is as you consume the oxygen faster than intended. The memories are way more infuriating than saddening. You feel like you were bullied, hated. 

Jinyoung was always behind you, whenever you failed or succeeded. He started as playful and petty, with witty words and knowing smiles. You thought nothing of it, too focused on your personal issues to deal with that little spoiled bitch. 

He never crossed the line and simply worked on making you feel miserable without succeeding. Today though, he went too far. Maybe it’s not him who decided to take the position as the editorial director but in the end, it’s Park Jinyoung making feel like crap. As always.

A knock on your opened door makes you look at it, sighing in defeat as a smiling Jinyoung appears, waving softly. 

“I refused to believe it when I heard you were working here.” He muses, walking deeper into your office. 

You don’t answer, eyes transfixed on him as you nod in defeat. What can you say? Anger pleases him, crying would result in him mocking you and complaining is useless as he is the big boss’ nephew.

You are screwed and even finding a job somewhere else would probably be a big fail. Jinyoung would never write a recommendation letter and would rather torment you for the sake of entertainment. 

You see him stop in front of your office, blinking. “Are you okay? Shocked to see me?” he smiles but it’s not genuine. You know Jinyoung, you’ve seen enough of his face to know he has amazing acting skills. 

“I don’t want to talk to you. I hate that you’re always somewhere in my life, working hard to make it miserable. Stop with the fake smile, no one’s here.” You try to be as collected as you can, getting up and grabbing folders.

Jinyoung doesn’t seem to enjoy the way you talk to him and crosses his arms over his chest. “Wow, I was ready to be real nice, but I guess you’re asking for more.” 

You snort, turning around and stopping, “Whatever you say, Jinyoungie.” Your fake smile turns into a glare before you walk away. 

-- 

Jinyoung acts exactly the way you predicted. He gives you a huge amount of work, makes you stay way longer than the others and is never satisfied with whatever you do. 

He sends long emails with whatever needs to be changed, let it be in the week-end or during the night. 

He lets you have a break only when he feels like it, which results in you barely getting any rest. Your colleagues seem to have it easier and even get along with Jinyoung, who smiles sweetly at every secretary and shakes everyone’s hand. He buys lunch for everyone and more often than not you reject the invitation, earning a smirk.

It’s at the end of the second month since he arrived that you decide to take the matter into your hands. You start looking around for another job, between heavy folders thrown onto your desk and endless emails. 

And it pays. You get one interview. They don’t need a recommendation letter; they don’t even seem to care about who is supervising your work and oh god you might finally be able to escape that bastard.

The interview goes well, so well that you receive an email, a week later. You don’t get the job. 

It doesn’t explain why, but there’s a line about your current company and you don’t even need to read it fully to understand a certain someone sabotaged your plan, again.

“So, you’re looking for another job?” The annoying voice stops you at the worst moment, your eyes leaving the screen. “Thank god I know Jackson enough, he looked very interested in hiring you.”

He is almost mad, like you’re married and he caught you flirting with another man. 

“Don’t be jealous, that manager was too sweet to even compete with you. You’re still the number one bastard in my heart.” You ignore his presence once more, opening another folder to continue your job. 

You hear a sigh, followed by a hand on your office, “I’m sweet when people deserve my sweetness. You obviously don’t.”

“Oh and I’m so damn sad not to be worthy of your kindness…” You fake obviously, rolling your eyes and typing on your keyboard in hope he’d leave.

But Jinyoung doesn’t leave. He laughs, even. “Wow, you really do hate me.” He seems bewildered. 

You finally look up, frowning. “And you don’t? You’re hating me so much that you’d go as far as destroy my future, just like you did with my past. Oh, and let’s not talk about how you’re a pain in the ass in my present, too.” You shake your head, “You know what, let’s not fight. You like it too much when I get mad. I’ll just resign and fly the country.”

“Sounds a bit drastic to me.” 

You get up so fast that Jinyoung almost takes a step back. “Stop it. Stop talking to me. Just be a bastard like you always do until I leave.”

“You know, I never pictured us ending up that way.” Jinyoung says, hands now into his pockets.

Your eyebrows raise and you turn around, shocked. “And whose fault is that? What did I ever do to you? I’ve been minding my own business since we were 6 and you put glue into my hair and told everyone I was the one who did this to myself. Shall I go on and list everything?” 

“And you said nothing. The day after, with your hair messy and bloodshot eyes you entered the classroom and didn’t even take revenge. You ignored me.” Jinyoung states. 

You make a face, disturbed to the point of crying but fighting the tears away. “What is your point?”

“Why did you always avoid the fight? I want to hate you so bad but you don’t give me any reason to. You just hate me to the point of leaving. Why don’t you just slap the shit out of me instead?” He tries to explain, making no sense at all.

“Why the fuck did you even want to hate me?” Jinyoung can’t be serious, he can’t be saying he was actually doing all this on purpose so that you would hate him and fight back? 

Jinyoung sighs, eyes closing slowly. “You seriously don’t know why I would always be around you all the damn time? You can’t be this oblivious.”

“Oblivious of what? You were – and still are- a little shit. What did I possibly miss?”

Jinyoung laughs, loudly. His hand appears before his lips, hiding his teeth. “Jeez, you insult me more than you call my name.”

“That’s not funny.” You snarl, teeth gritted.

“You annoyed me. You annoyed me because you were flawless. Oh look, Y/N brought cookies! Oh my, her dress is so pretty! Look at her face, she has such cute dimples.”

You open your mouth, now completely lost. “What, you wanted to be popular? You were jealous? That’s ridiculous, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Shut up, it had nothing to do with popularity.” Jinyoung cuts, frowning, “Oh, how I wonder why you’re so annoying yet so attractive.” He spills, running a hand through his hair and stopping when his eyes find yours.


“What did you just say? Are you a psychopath or something?” You ask quietly, now a little bit concerned because Jinyoung just said you were attractive. 

If you’re being honest, he is good-looking. He didn’t change that much but looks more built and adult now. Too bad he is a complete asshole.

Jinyoung looks at with that same judgemental face, the one you hate so much, “When I first saw you, I came back home and told my mom I had found the prettiest girl in the universe. She made fun of me and said I still had time to explore the universe but I refused to changed my mind. You were too nice to me at first but then I discovered you were nice to everyone. You also had a crush on Jaebum because he would give you apples? I mean come on, apples?” He doesn’t know why he spills everything. Maybe it’s the thought of you leaving that makes him explain why he had been to adamant to make you feel like shit.

“So I decided to stop looking at you. The six years-old me tried everything but you followed me, you were in the same class the year after and I couldn’t do nothing but stare at you. I couldn’t stop thinking about the prettiest girl in the universe because I’m a fool.”

“I don’t understand a thing you’re saying, Jinyoung.” You try, sitting back in your chair slowly. 

The way you finally call his name makes him open his mouth, mad at the effect it still has over him. 

His tongue hits the inside of his cheeks briefly. “I thought it would be easier if you were to hate me. If it came from you, then I’d have no choice but to move on, right? So I started being a little bastard. I put glue in your hair even though I didn’t want to and told everyone you were playing with it acting like it was bleach. I went back home that day and I cried so freaking hard. I was hating myself and I could barely sleep thinking about how mad you’d be. But you said nothing. You threw me a dirty look and grabbed yet another apple handed by Jaebum to make you feel better.” 

“Wait, why do I feel like it’s my fault again? Couldn’t you confess like a normal kid? Did you have to bully me through school?” He must be crazy, there’s no other way he is standing here and explaining he had been acting this way because he was in love with you.

Jinyoung sighs. “I’d hardly call that bullying. Why do you think I turned on the lights at Mark’s party while that bastard from the football team was harassing you? Who do you think made you sit on mud so that it would cover the-”

“-the bloodstains on my jeans because of my perio- Wait, you saw that?” You finish the sentence, shocked and now embarrassed. 

“I saw everything. I noticed everything, from the way you were trying to control yourself so you wouldn’t beat the shit out of me, to how you’d cry sometimes, thinking I was hating you for free. I had no idea you were working for my uncle. I had no idea where you were and I was convincing me it was fine because even though you never fought back, I was pretty sure you were hating me. It didn’t make me feel better, though.”

“Why?” You dare to ask, you’re not sure you want to know why, but things took a weird turn and you suddenly need answers.

Jinyoung looks up, his face overly serious and eyes deep with something you had never seen in his eyes. “Because even though I succeeded, even though you hate me and I can finally move on, all I can see is the prettiest girl in the universe, every time you’re in front of me.”

He makes you blush uncontrollably, the words going out quicker than intended. “Hold on, it’s too much information. I feel like I was lied to all these years.” Your elbows find your office so you can rest your head into your palms. “You’re telling me you’re still in love with me? I- I just don’t get why you never conf-

“Confessed?” Jinyoung laughs again, earning your attention back. “Would you have believed me? Do you even believe me now?” he tries, almost hopeful.

“I’m not sure I do. You’ve always been a great actor, just like when you told me the math test was cancelled and I believed you and failed big time.” You explain, almost pouting. 

Jinyoung smiles, his eyes turning into crescents. “You’re just awfully gullible.”

You shake your head, almost hurt by the fact that he’d make this up just to embarrass you. “This is exactly why I hate you, Jinyoung. Even now, you’re playing with me.”

He is quick to raise two defensive hands in front of him. “I mean it! You are gullible but that doesn’t change how I feel!”

“And what do I do with that information? Even if it’s true what do you expect me to do?” You get up rapidly, sending your hair against the wall. 

Jinyoung seems helpless and for the first time in your whole life, you see a bit a weakness within his annoying overconfidence. “It is true. I don’t except you to do anything about it. I just told you because you said you’d leave. If you want me to stop talking to you, I will, only if you believe me and take this seriously.”

“I’m not going to listen to your bullshit, you’re probably recording this and you’ll send it to everyone within the next hour to embarrass me. It’s not going to work.” You conclude, ready to leave your office and hide somewhere else.

Jinyoung grabs your arm before you can escape. “How do you want me to prove it to you?”

“You don’t love me Jinyoung. If you did, I wouldn’t have ended up crying because of you. This is not love, this is cruelty.” 

Jinyoung cracks his neck, slowly. “I said, how do you want me to prove it to you?”

“Then kiss me.”

He freezes, his hand letting your arm go instantly. “What?” Jinyoung says shakily, his voice quivering with anticipation in spite of the situation. 

“Go ahead. If you really do love me, you must be dying to kiss me –oomf”

You can’t believe it. Is Park Jinyoung kissing you? The guy who has been making fun of you for as long as you can remember? That little piece of shit? 

And damn he seems to be enjoying himself. You can feel it from the way he grabbed your face and how close his body his. He takes his time feeling you with his mouth and even sighs when you automatically kiss him back. 

It is pleasing. Kissing Park Jinyoung is pleasing. Who would have thought. The guy spitting venom all day long does taste rather sweet.

He parts from you with difficulty, breath raged and eyes closed in an attempt to keep control. His body doesn’t leave your side, just like his hands, glued to your scalp and waist. 

After a while, he chuckles, his baby face back and pettiness out the window.

“I can’t believe I kissed the prettiest girl in the universe…”

He looks ecstatic. 

[calumbringbackthewatermelonshirt]

Why You? (C.H.)

a/n: ENEMIES TO LOVERS bby aww yeah its here. this is only the first part, there will be a part two i swear!! (Maybe even part three idk). also, disclaimer: I really, really lover the name gemma!! I think its super pretty!

There were two things in this world that Gemma was certain of. One, that her parents had really fucked her over by naming her Gemma. And two, Ashton Irwin had terrible taste in friends. 

Well, friend.

Calum Hood. The bane of Gemma’s existence. Somehow, when he walked into the room, every rational thought she ever had left. They replaced themselves with the need to make passive-aggressive comments. 

Now, Gemma prided herself on the fact that she was very much not a bitch. Well, as much as possible, she wasn’t. But it was hard to not hate this man. His irritating smirks, the way he smoked, even how he always called her Germ (Gemma, Gem, Germ. Real clever, Cal).

But what ticked her off the most was how he always barged in unannounced. To everything.

This was especially inconvenient now. You know, since Gemma was half drunk and sobbing her eyes out on Ashton’s couch.

“I don’t get it, you know?” It had been a tough day at work. It was always a tough day at work. Gemma watched as her tears plunked into her wine glass, a frown reflected back to her on the maroon surface. “I’m just plain better than him. So why am I always last for promotions?”

“It’s probably the fact you think you’re better than everyone.” Oh, great. If there was one thing this night was missing, it was that ever-present nail on a chalkboard voice.

There were several different types of drunks, as far as Gemma was concerned. Weepy, fun, angry, needy, philosophical, and blackout. Normally, Gemma was a very fun drunk, the life of the party. But she was about to turn into the Incredible Hulk of drunks. 

“Cal, what’s up?” Ashton jumped off the couch, a smile on his face and a hand outstretched to greet his friend.

“Was in the neighborhood. Figured I’d stop by and see if you wanted to hang.” Cal shot daggers at Gemma then, crossing his arms. “Didn’t know you had company.” 

He practically spat out the word.

“Whatever, bitch boy. I was leaving anyway.” Gemma threw the blanket off of her, using more force than necessary and began snatching up her things. She hated acting like this in front of Ashton, but if Gemma didn’t stomp her feet to release anger, well, there was a chance Cal wouldn’t be able to have kids in the future.

“Gem, wait. You’re drunk.” Ashton caught her arm, concern written all over his face. Gemma watched him as he kept glancing over at his keys on the kitchen counter. His concern wasn’t her problem, though. 

“I already called for an Uber. It’ll be here in five.” Gemma made another move for the front door, only to find Ashton’s hand still on her arm, a tight vice grip.

“At least wait inside where you’ll be warm.” She almost said yes. It was right on the tip of her tongue, waiting to spring into the world and agree. And then.

“Nah, let the drunk wait out in the cold. Maybe she’ll sober up a bit, eh?” Calum fucking Hood. The door was slamming shut behind her before Ashton could even blink.

Gemma could see her breath in the desert air. That’s what kept her from screaming into the night sky. Well, that and basic social constructs. But Gemma kept it in. Each time a puff released out into the night sky, she felt a little more tension leave her shoulders. Yeah, she still wanted to feel her hands around Calum’s neck. And yeah, she still wasn't promoted. But at least there was the cold.

--

“Why do you two hate each other?” Ashton stood at his door with his eyes closed and forehead resting on the frame. 

“I have no idea what you’re referring to.” Cal was rummaging through Ash’s fridge, looking for something to drink out of boredom.

“I’m serious. Why? Why are you two constantly at each other’s throats?”  Ashton spun, rubbing his hand roughly over his face. There was always this tension between the two of his friends, and it was torture for Ashton. Every party playing the negotiator, every dinner he was the peacekeeper. Hell, he practically had to put them in a time out the last time they went to the bar together. It wasn’t like he could just not invite them to things. Gemma and Calum were two of his closest friends, and he wanted them at important things. “I mean, on paper, you two should be best friends.”

Cal spat out the kombucha he had found in the depths of the fridge. “What the fuck?”

Calum and Gemma had nothing in common. Nothing. Cal was cool, confident. He was a normal fucking human being.

Gemma Rossi was out of her mind. She was a control freak, and barely tolerable even at her best. Everything that came out her mouth was both petty and passive aggressive.

“First off, I am nothing like that psychopath. Second, what the fuck?” Cal’s voice rose more and more with the second what the fuck. This time it was his turn to slam things, the kombucha splashing out onto the counter as it made contact with the top of the kitchen island. 

“I’m serious. You’re both funny and cool. And know-it-alls.” Ashton was starting to see this. See everything. Calum and Gemma paired perfectly together. They had enough similarities to get along, but plenty of differences to still have stuff to talk about. This was maybe brilliant. 

“You’re out of your mind.” Cal rolled his eyes, hard. The last time he had a full length conversation with Gemma, she told him he was drinking beer wrong. As if that was even a thing. 

Cal was tired of this bullshit spiel Ash was going on. It was hard enough having to interact with her almost daily. He didn’t need Ashton comparing him to her now. It wasn’t that Cal didn’t want to like her. In fact, he tried to see the best in people even at their worst. But the way Gemma was so full of herself, so sure she knew everything. God, it set fire to something deep within his soul. 

When he told Ashton as much, Cal did not enjoy his response. 

“That’s called being horny, mate.” Ash let loose a giggle, rubbing his hands together. The grin stayed on his face. “And that whole sure of herself thing? Confidence.” 

Cal just grumbled and swallowed the rest of his kombucha in lieu of a response. Truth was he didn’t have one. It was hard enough trying to convince himself to be civil with her, much less try and see her as a likable person. 

--

Coffee was a safe space for Gemma. Caffeine had never really had an effect on her, but it was comforting. She didn’t care hot or cold, as long as the coffee was strong. 

So when none other than one Calum Hood sauntered his way into her favorite shop next to the recording studio, she deflated, to say the least. 

All she wanted was one thing. One thing unmarred by the smug jerk that was Calum Hood. She brought her phone to her face and her coffee to her lips, trying to hide as much as her face as possible as she attempted to escape from the shop without speaking to him. Well, walked dignified, not escaped. She wasn’t afraid of speaking to him, of course. She would merely prefer not to. 

“Hello, Gemma.” Ah, there it was. He was leaning with one shoulder on the wall, waiting in the queue. It would have been kind of hot, had it been anyone else. Well, it was still kind of hot. But Gemma would never admit that, not even to herself. Feelings for Calum were like bathing in mud. Disgusting on principle, no matter how good it might feel. 

“Hey, Calum.” She forced a smile onto her face, but it greatly resembled the smile of the Mona Lisa. Practically non-existent. So much for escaping unnoticed. “I have some papers for you to sign when we get back to the studio.” 

“Ah, look at the little lawyer, ever the professional.” Cal smirked at her, his arms still crossed as he stepped up to the counter to order his drink. “Since you did say ‘we,’ I’m assuming you want me to walk back to the studio with you. Now, while normally I find desperation unattractive, I’d love to accompany you back to the studio. If you’ll so kindly wait as I get my beverage.” 

Gemma had to find a new job. When she signed up to be a legal representative for bands, she thought it would be exciting. Meeting new people, traveling the world. She didn’t know how much of a pain in the ass said bands would be. Maybe at her next job she’d get respect. She could see it now, her own little fantasy keeping her sane as she stood next to her least favorite person in the coffee shop. She didn’t feel inclined to leave the fantasy, that is until Calum started snapping his fingers right under her nose. 

“What.” Her voice was flat. Gemma had recently come upon the decision that no emotion was probably better than anger her voice, so she kept it neutral. 

“I was just asking you what you got.” Gemma looked at him with a blank stare. Got? Got what? She certainly didn’t have anything for him, if that was what he meant. 

Calum must have seen the confusion on her face, judging on how hard he rolled his eyes. “To drink.” 

“Oh. Just a cold brew dark roast.” Gemma started down at her shoes, a small smile playing upon her lips. Who was this man next to her, asking downright civil questions? If it had been anyone else, she could have mistaken it for some twisted form of casual, pleasant conversation. She glanced up at Calum again to make sure that it was, in fact, Calum Hood standing next to her and not some reverse-doppelgänger that was kind instead of evil. 

Then Calum snorted. “Guess that explains why you’re so bitter all the time. The coffee is a reflection of your soul.” 

Ah. There it was. 

---

Calum didn’t know why he said it. They had been having a decent conversation. He had even thought to himself how nice it was to have a talk with her that didn’t include fighting. So why had he gone and ruined it? He had never been the self sabotaging type, even though there was nothing to sabotage. He didn’t want there to be anything to sabotage, either. 

But when Gemma had smiled at him, well, at something he said… It was kind of nice. That’s why he said that. She was about to say something, Cal could just tell. But he turned away from her, going to retrieve his coffee instead. It was hard enough watching her smile and charm the pants off of their bosses every day. He didn’t need her fake attitude with him as well. Although, if there was one person Gemma was never fake with, it was most definitely Cal. She had been up front with her dislike of him right from the start. And she never tried to hide it either. 

Still, as she followed him out of the coffee shop with several exasperated sighs, he couldn’t help but wonder about what it was like for her to smile at him and mean it. He shook his head quickly. It was probably awful. He would never enjoy her smiling at him. It’d be weird… and gross. 

The studio was at most a four minute walk, but god, did it feel like an eternity. So much awkward silence ensued, Cal almost wished they were screaming at each other. Which, she was probably close to doing. 

“Listen, darling, if you want me, you can just say so.” Calum figured it was a good enough ice breaker. Gemma could yell and rant all she wanted, but Cal just wanted her to get it over with before they got to the studio. The studio was his sacred space. 

“All I want from you is silence. And to be left alone, but I’ll settle for silence at the moment.” Gemma was clutching her coffee like her life depended on it. Her Knuckles were practically white, and Calum could swear that there was a vein bulging in her forehead, just like the cartoons. 

“Well, your wish is my command, dollface.” Calum mock-bowed and could hear her practically growling. The smirk that played upon his face was just reflex at this point. Making her angry was so easy these days. He bowed again as he held the door for her when they got to the studio. Just to rub it in. 

---

“I’m done with him. Ashton, if I never see him again, it’ll be too soon, I’m telling you.” Gemma dropped her head into her hands and sighed. What was the point of life really? “In fact, I might have to strangle him.”

“I’d really prefer if you didn’t. We kind of need him for the band.” Ashton leaned on the counter adjacent to Gemma, staring hard at her. His brow was furrowed, as if he was trying to make a tough decision. About what, Gemma had no clue. “We should go get drinks tonight.” 

“Um, no? You’re literally a recovering alcoholic. There’s not a chance in Hell I’m putting you in that situation, especially when you’ve come so far.” Gemma picked her head up, studying every inch of Ashton’s face. She could not have been more proud of him, each day her heart swelling more with pride and love in his progress. She would never, ever let herself even think of putting him in a situation that could harm him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ashton chuckled, twisting a ring on his index finger. “Better than ever, actually. I was thinking we could just go to a restaurant, actually.” 

“Oh. Well in that case. Sure.” 

--

Thirty-eight minutes. That’s how long Calum had been sitting alone at the bar of some poorly-lit restaurant waiting for Ashton, without so much as even a text. Ashton had a lot of great qualities, but being reliable wasn’t one of them. 

Minute thirty-nine was when he noticed her. Gemma. 

She, too, was sitting alone at the bar, just a few seats down. Calum was guessing that she hadn’t noticed him yet, since she hadn’t fled the bar like a trapped animal. 

She was furiously typing on her phone, a petulant frown upon her lips. Her dark hair was pulled up into a ponytail, but there were a few little strands falling out around her face that did nothing to conceal the alcohol induced flush on her cheeks. 

Cal was wondering why she was here. That is, up until a large man came up and put his arm around her shoulders, leaning in until his lips were practically on her face to speak to her. 

Cal almost looked away. He almost left, almost minded his own business. 

Until he saw the look of disgust on Gemma’s face. And the way she tried so hard to get his arm off of her. 

Maybe he hated Gemma, but she didn’t deserve this. No one did. 

“I don’t see a boyfriend anywhere.” God, Calum could smell the stale beer on his breath from here. He didn’t know who this guy was but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Gemma wanted nothing to do with him.  

“How bout now?” As the drunk straightened, Cal sized him up. While the man probably had about fifty pounds on him,  Cal had a solid two inches on the drunk. 

But the drunk just grumbled something about ‘whore’ and ‘not worth it’ and waddled away. 

Gemma, for the most part just looked defeated. Slightly surprised, but again, mostly defeated. 

“Hello Calum.” It came out with a heavy sigh, but Cal still took the seat next to her. 

“Aw, hello to you too babe.” The bartender slid Cal’s half finished drink back down to him, and Cal took a long sip. “Don’t look so happy to see me.”

Gemma snorted. Like actually snorted, as in the sound a pig makes. And then she laughed. Calum was convinced he had broken her. Who knew that was all it took. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just. Why you? Why did you, of all people, have to be here? What god cursed me with having to deal with you constantly? It’s just- why are you here?” Gemma looked incredulous. She stared at Cal, one eyebrow cocked, and a sarcastic smile on her lips. 

“Ashton told me to meet him here and then never showed.” As soon as Cal said Ashton’s name, Gemma fully choked on her drink, coughing and everything. Cal just stared at her, wondering if she was so drunk that she could remember how to swallow. Was that even possible? 

“Okay. I should go.” Once again, Gemma was trying to escape having to have a conversation with Calum. He had half a mind to just let her go. But curiosity got the better of him, so he followed her out into the frigid air. 

“Hang on. What do you know?” He stood next to her on the street. There was something going on for sure, something she knew that he didn’t. 

“According to you, nothing.” She smirked, clearly reveling in the fact that she had something he wanted. 

“Spill.” It was cold, and Cal just wanted to be at home in bed, not here playing games with Gemma. 

“Fine.” Gemma shivered in her sheer top, clearly as cold as Calum. “I think Ashton set us up. I was supposed to meet him here, too.”

“I’m going to strangle him.” Cal closed his eyes and tipped his head up to the sky, exhaling slowly. 

“You and me both.” Cal watched as Gemma turned away from him and began walking down the dark street, her shoulders hunched for warmth. 

Calum really had to learn to bite his tongue. And not stick his nose in other people's business, especially not Gemma’s. Still, it was getting harder and harder for him to convince himself he didn’t care. Even though he didn’t. Care, that is. She could walk home in the cold, all alone in the dark. Wouldn’t matter to him. Not one bit. In fact, it’d probably be good for her. Teach her a lesson about forgetting her coat. 

That reasoning was how he found himself walking her home, his warm leather jacket around her shoulders. 

@rip-lukes-balsamic​

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Betty//Dark Secret

Request: Can I request a Betty/Reader where you find out about "Dark" Betty and you and her both realise you're kinda into it when it comes to the bedroom, maybe you defend her/comfort her after the round of Sins and Secrets at the party?

Warnings: No smut, but a bit on the risqué side (oooo)

“Hey ba-Woah!” You stop mid-sentence as you walk into your girlfriends room, dropping the bouquet of flowers you had in your hand. 

Betty had invited you over to hang out for the day seeing as though her parents weren’t in and she was bored. You were supposed to go over a bit later in the day but decided to go over a little early to surprise her. Plus, any excuse to spend more time with her was a plus point. 

“Y/n!” Her eyes widen while she scrambles about to find something to cover herself up. “What are you doing here? You’re an hour early!?” 

“I thought I’d surprise you.” You shrug, not entirely sure where to look. There she was, stood in front of you in a black lacy bra, black skirt, choker and dark black wig, making your brain stop for a good few seconds. “But, I think you’re the one doing the surprising.” You add, your voice lowering while you bite your bottom lip. You look her up and down while a bright blush spreads over her face. “Damn.” You mumble. “Not that I’m complaining.” You start, moving towards her. “But what exactly are you doing?” You ask, pushing the robe off her shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. 

“Just trying something out.” She mumbles. “Its stupid.” 

“Its not.” You reply, looking her in the eye. She still has a blush on her cheeks and you don’t know how you got a girl that can be adorable and sexy at the same time. “You look hot.” 

“Whatever.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, what did you want to do today?” She asks, turning away from you. 

“You?” You reply, a smirk on your lips and she rolls her eyes, turning back to face you. “I’m being serious. Well, I was thinking we could maybe go shopping or something, we do need to get the decorations for Jughead’s party, but thats next week so we have plenty of time. Right now, I’d rather stay in and well, you know.” 

“Babe.” She blushes. 

“We can go shopping if you want.” You reply and turn around. 

“No.” She says quickly, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to her. “I wanna stay in too. I’ll just get changed and then we can, you know...” She trails off and starts to take her outfit off. 

“Keep it on.” You grab her hand, stopping her from doing anything. 

“What?” She asks, standing up properly. 

“Keep. It. On.” You repeat slowly and she looks down at herself before back at you and nodding. 

“Okay.” 

-------

“What the hell is Secrets and Sins?” Jughead asks. The majority of the people have some how been roped into playing this stupid game and you and Betty are sat beside each other on the sofa. Your hand in hers, while you down the rest of whatever the hell Archie put in your cup. 

“Its a variation on Truth or Dare…in which we own our truths by telling it like it is. I’ll start the game with…Veronica Lodge.” Cheryl explains to the group of teenagers all sat in a circle and you’re now starting to regret agreeing to this. Suck and Blow would have been a better game than this, a lot of shit goes on in Riverdale. A lot of shit people don’t want others to know about. 

“Naturally.” Veronica replies sarcastically.

“Let’s begin with the day you and your mob wife of a mother came to town for a so-called fresh start. Tell us Veronica, what’s so fresh about defiling Archie Andrews in a closet?”

“That was your doing.” She replies confused, her arms crossing defensively against her chest. You and Betty share a look before looking at Jughead, he looks like he wants to be anyway else but here, and to be honest you can’t blame him. You knew he’d hate this, but Betty insisted because of how much he’d been through and there’s not much you’ll say no to when it comes to your girlfriend. 

“Moving on to dear Daddy Lodge…Isn’t it true that your father, from prison, illegally purchased the drive-in land? Which makes me wonder, what else is he doing behind bars?” 

“Well, I can’t speak for my father…but I can think of someone with a very dirty secret. Specifically, Cheryl killing her very own brother.” The tension in the room increases and everyone looks at each other. 

“Shit.” You mutter. “Do I have any dirty secrets that anyone knows.” 

“Only me, and don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me.” She reassures you and you let out a deep breath. 

“Everyone knows how much I loved my brother.” Cheryl defends herself.

“Exactly.” Veronica replies. “But did you love him, maybe in ways that a sister shouldn’t love a brother? And as you got older, Jason started to think it was strange, unnatural. So he chose Polly over you. So you shot him between the eyes with one of your father’s many hunting rifles.”

“This is riveting. I can’t breathe.” Kevin whispers excitedly to Joaquin.

“This game is sick.” Dilton stands up and you roll your eyes while Cheryl wipes away the tears on her cheek. “I wanna go next.” He adds making everyone look at him.

“Thats the spirit, Doiley. What secrets do you have to reveal to us?” Chuck says happily.

“I saw Ms. Grundy’s car by Sweetwater River the day Jason went missing.” He admits and everyone gasps. You, Betty and Archie side glance each other and shift uncomfortably in your seats. “I told Betty and Y/n, and then Ms. Grundy quit her job and left Riverdale, like, two days later. And lets not forget that Archie was also at Sweetwater River that morning.”

“Oh, my God.” Cheryl whips her head round to look at Archie. “Colour me shocked. Archie Andrews, is that why you became a mediocre musician overnight? Because you and Ms. Four-Eyes were pulling a Mary Kay Letourneau?”

“Don’t say anything. Don’t get in the gutter with them.” Veronica tells him. 

“Wait, what? Andrews was banging a teacher?” Chuck says impressed and you roll your eyes.  “I wish I would’ve known. I would have added you and Ms. Grundy to the book of conquests.” 

“Classy, Chuck, as always.”

“Wait a second.” Cheryl interrupts. “That also explains why Archie can’t seem to keep a girlfriend to save his life. He’s got serious mommy issues. Anything to say for yourself Arch? Were you a victim or a perpetrator?” She says and you look at Archie. You can tell he’s getting uncomfortable and kind of upset and you need to do something quick. You look at Betty and she looks around the room, trying to think of something to say. 

“Dilton Doiley plays with guns.” She interjects, but is immediately shut down.

“Big whoop, Betty. So Doiley’s a psychopath. Everyone knows that.”  

“Well, I guess its my turn now. Boy, do I have a twisted secret to reveal, starring Betty Cooper.” Chuck turns to the two of you and your grip on her hand tightens while your eyes narrow. You’re staring daggers at Chuck and Betty struggles to keep you sat down. 

“Leave her the hell alone, Chuck.” Archie threatens.

“Shut up, Andrews.” He replies. “Look, you may get a free peep show every night, but you do not know her. Hell, Betty doesn’t even know herself. Everybody knows why I got suspended, but what you don’t know…she dressed up like a hooker, in a God-awful black wig, drugged me, handcuffed me in the Jacuzzi, and well, I almost drowned until she got me to say what she wanted to hear. And then she really lost it. She actually thought she was Polly.” He winks at you. “But, hey, you knew all about this right, Y/n. Does she do that with you too, or was it just a special treat for me?” You’re standing up in an instant, Betty and Archie following quickly, each with a hand on your arm to keep you from doing anything stupid. 

“Oh grow up, Chuck. Its the 21st century. The only person having missionary sex is you and whoever the girl your disappointing is.” You retort and his jaw clenches. “And if it makes you feel any better, I’m the one that suggested she do all that to you, to make you crack. You are an asshole, and you deserved everything she did to you.” You slowly make your way towards him. “So do us all a favour, and find someone else to annoy. Or better yet, go home and satisfy the only thing you know how to...yourself. But even then, I’m sure thats a disappointment too.” You say the last part quietly, glancing down before looking back at him, a small smile gracing your features before you shove past him. Betty follows after you, saying goodbye and sorry to Archie, Veronica and Jughead before grabbing your jackets and running after you. 

“Babe!” She shouts and you stop on the sidewalk, turning around and smiling brightly at her. “I got your jacket.” She says and you take it from her gratefully. 

“Thanks.” You reply and the two of you start to walk back to yours.

“I’m sorry.” She sighs. 

“That party sucked anyway.” You shrug. 

“No, I mean for everything. You didn’t have to say that stuff you know. About how you told me to do it. I don’t even know what I was thinking when I did it. Its like a red-mist came over me.” She shakes her head and you frown.

“What did you expect me to do? Let Chuck talk about my girlfriend like that? I don’t think so.” 

“I suppose.” She sighs sadly. “God, I’m so embarrassed. People are gonna be talking about my ‘kinky’ side forever. Think of the nicknames, and everything else. I’m such an idiot. I never should have put on that stupid wig, or done any of that stuff with Chuck.” 

“I think people are going to be talking about Cheryl wanting to fuck her brother and Chuck’s disappointing sex life more.” You nudge her shoulder softly and she smiles a little. “And even if they do say anything, I’ll be there to defend you. Always. Plus, I like your kinky side.” You wink at her and she lets out a giggle. “You look damn hot in that wig and Chuck should be grateful that he got to see it.” 

“Babeeeee.” She rolls her eyes. 

“What?” You ask. “Its true. I feel lucky every time I get to see you in general, let alone like that. Everyone in there was just jealous because they have to use their imagination, when I get the real deal.” 

“Thank you.” She smiles at you gratefully. “Seriously, you’re the best.” 

“I have an idea of how you could really show me how grateful you are.” You say with a smirk and she laughs loudly, a blush starting to creep up her neck. 

“I think I have an idea too.” 

“Oh yeah?” You ask. “Whats that?” 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard your neighbours will know my name.” She whispers in your ear and you gulp, your face turning bright red. 

“I-I, err I was thinking about you-err just buying me Pop’s.” You splutter. “But that works too.” You say quickly and she grabs your hand, pulling you towards your house, anything that happened at the party instantly forgotten. 

[buckthegrump]

Where You Go - 3

After a run-in with some hitmen, you find yourself with a new protection detail.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1423

Warnings: gun stuff (but it ain’t what you think)

A/n: (Infinity War/ Endgame who?) if you want to be tagged please look at the link in my bio

“Good, Agent 99,” the agent told Y/n as she disarmed another adult more than twice her size.

Y/n looked up at Agent Melinda May who was training her. Y/n had been found by Coulson on the streets. When May found out she took the young orphan into her custody and started teaching her the basics in fighting.

Y/n had excelled at it and for that May was glad. It took a weight off May’s shoulders knowing that the young girl would be able to mostly defend herself if she were to find herself in trouble. Because despite her best efforts, Agent May was developing a soft spot for the young girl, so much so that Y/n had started calling her mom in when they were at home and May hadn’t done anything to stop it.

May was teaching her to not rely on weapons because there may come a day when she found herself in the middle of a fight without one. May said she wanted Y/n to be prepared for any situation. 

There was a break in the drills as one of the leaders of SHEILD came into the gym and walked up to May and Y/n.

“Director Pierce,” May greeted him almost coldly.

He didn’t return the greeting. Pierce looked from May to Y/n then back to May.

“We have an assignment for her,” he said. May looked at him in horror.

Y/n looked at her guardian, even she knew that she was too young to go on a mission. She wasn’t even old enough to get into the academy yet. May looked back at her and Y/n could see the fear in her eyes.

“She’s too young,” May voiced. “What mission could you possibly have for her that an adult could not do?”

Pierce put his hands on his knees lowering his face to Y/n’s level. He had a smile on his face as he asked, “How would you like to go to a dance school?”

~

When Y/n woke it was still dark outside. Praying to a god that she didn’t believe in, she looked at the clock on her bedside table only to see that it was barely even 2:30 am. With a happy sigh, she put her head back on the pillow and fell back asleep.

Not two minutes later a loud crash came from across the hallway. She groaned and covered her head with her pillow before remembering who now lived across the hall from her and she sprang out of bed.

Without thinking, she walked towards the front door and grabbed the handle of something from her kitchen before opening her door and barging into Bucky’s place.

It took a minute for the scene in front of her to register. Bucky was standing in the middle of his kitchen pots and pans scattered across the floor. He was reaching up to grab something out of an open cabinet standing on his tippy toes. He looked at her frozen in his spot. Her brain didn’t have the capacity at that time to wonder why he hadn’t attacked her the moment she walked in the door unless he heard her door open.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Y/n asked lowering her makeshift weapon.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He asked a little sheepishly.

“Yeah you woke me, you woke the whole fucking block,” she said in a rage and looked down at the pots and pans then back to the open cupboard. “Who the fuck puts pots and pans in an upper cabinet? Are you a fucking psychopath?”

“I was gonna make some soup,” he shrugged.

“I don’t get how someone who was trained to be stealthy could make so much noise at 2 am.”

“Why are you holding a bottle cleaner?” Bucky asked.

Y/n looked down at what she’d grabbed from her kitchen to find that in fact that she was holding a bottle brush. She pointed it at Bucky in a threatening manner, or as threatening as one could get with the dumbest weapon in the world.

“Fuck you, next time you can die,” she told him and walked away from him.

Not bothering to lock her door she fell back into her bed and drifted into a dreamless slumber.

~

This time when she woke up, the sun was shining through the windows. Luckily it was a Saturday morning and Y/n had no plans so she was perfectly content to lay in bed until she was good and ready to get up. And she would’ve if she hadn’t felt a presence in her room.

Y/n shot up pulling the knife from its spot under her pillow and pointed it at the intruder next to her bed.

Bucky was sitting in a chair that didn’t belong in her bedroom, glaring at her.

“What the fuck is your problem man?” She yawned lowering her weapon.

“You left your door unlocked and didn’t instantly notice when I broke into your house,” he deadpanned. “You can’t claim to be able to take care of yourself if I can break into your home so easily.”

“I will remind you that you woke me up at 2 am because you don’t know where pots and pans go in the kitchen,” she said. “Everyone knows they go on the bottom shelves so if you drop them they don’t make as much noise!”

“Get up, you need to learn self-defense.” Bucky got up and began to leave the room without the chair.

“Take the chair, you moron!” Y/n yelled after him but he left it there and she was too lazy to move it herself.

~

They were at the shooting range in the Avenger’s compound. The compound was almost completely empty except for maybe some straggling cleaning employees doing their job and Natasha who was watching from the observation room.

Bucky was standing in front of a table littered with guns. Y/n looked at the guns in disgust as the Sergeant explained everything there was to know about each one and which one she was most likely to come across and which one would be easiest for her to learn to use.

Y/n stopped paying attention three minutes in and was thinking about what the next thing she should have her students read. She was thinking something a bit more fun than making them read any of the quote/unquote classics because she personally found them to be incredibly boring.

Bucky clearly caught on to her zoning out during this particular training session and slammed his open palm on the table to get her attention. Y/n blinked her eyes and turned her attention back to Bucky who was yet again glaring at her.

“Do you ever make a face that isn’t a glare?” She asked before he even spoke a word. “You know that if you keep scowling like that you’ll get wrinkles. You should really smile more, you’d be so much prettier if you smiled.”

“Is your life a joke to you?”

“Yes,” Y/n said but he ignored her answer having more a rant to go on.

“Because we are risking our lives to make sure that you stay safe and I don’t know why we continued to bother if you’re just going to treat this all like some cosmic joke,” he said, “You need to learn to use a gun in case I’m not there to protect you.”

“I don’t like guns,” she stated simply.

“Doesn’t matter you need to learn how to use one,” he repeated.

Y/n stared at him for a moment before picking up the Glock 17, after disabling the safety she fired six shots at one of the targets hitting the bullseye every time. She turned back to Bucky, put the safety back on let the magazine slide out of the handle and removed the bullet from the camber all without missing a beat.

She set the parts of the gun back on the table and looked at a shocked Bucky.

“Just because I don’t like guns doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use a gun, Barnes. And if I need one, I’ll take one. But you will not convince me that I need to carry one at all times.”

Without another word Y/n turned and walked out of the shooting range not waiting for Bucky’s response.

“Nice going, Barnes,” Natasha muttered through the intercom. Bucky gave the redhead an unimpressed look.

[ellana-ravenwood]

Professor Wayne 4/4 - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Well, here we finally are. This series is FINALLY over ^^'. Damn, I never expected my intended one shot to become..This. Anyway I hope you will like it, as usual feedbacks and reblogs are more than welcome : 

FINISHED SERES : PART 1, PART 2, PART 2.5, PART 3. 

My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

                                                  ******

Your head hurts like hell, and you want to curl up in a ball and call for your mommy. But you don’t move. And you don’t say a thing.

And your mom has been long gone. Plus, she wasn’t one to console you when you felt bad anyway. 

You don’t move, and you don’t open your eyes because you know. 

You know that once you truly wake up, then he’ll start to do whatever he has planned for you, right ?

If you just stay there, in that position, you should be fine for now. Up until you can think of a plan or something. And so, even though you’re sore and your entire body is screaming for you to do something, you don’t utter a move. 

Because he won’t do anything if he thinks you’re unconscious, right ?

You studied this kind of psychos enough to know that they don’t get anything out of hurting  someone who isn’t truly aware of what is happening. So you keep your eyes tightly close, and you do your best to not move or make a sound.

But then…then you hear something. A noise you can’t quite identify. What is it ? And where does it come from exactly ? You have no idea. But you’re certain it’s not him. You don’t know why, but you feel it in your guts. 

It’s not him. 

Him.

John « The Joker » Doe.

Most prolific and terrifying serial killer in Gotham City. 

You used to have nightmares, as a child, thinking about him. He was one of the reason you wanted to become a profiler in the first place. He plagued your dreams for so long, you wanted to fight your fear by becoming the only thing that truly could come after men like this. Something Bruce could always get behind, and that attracted him greatly to you. Turning your fears into strength had always been one of your greatest quality. 

Doe has been in prison for years, and you wonder for a second how the hell did he got out ?! Especially given the prison he was in. 

The worst one in the country. Even more, he was held in the psych ward, which was the most protected part of it. 

Arkham truly was a terrible place. You went to “visit it” a few times to meet the psychologists working there, as they were working with people you were studying (maniacs and other psychopaths). And each time you sat foot in that building, you felt uneasy and wanted to leave at once.

How the hell did he got out of that hell house ?

As your fogged mind wanders off instead of focusing on a way to get out of this mess, your thoughts slowly drift to Bruce. 

Of course, this terrible situation you’re in would make you think of why you started to study to  become a profiler. 

The Joker was one reason, Bruce Wayne was the other.

Bruce was the one to put the Joker behind bars. 

The psycho had a strong obssession with him and it’s what ultimately got him in prison. But also what got Bruce out of the job, made him stop being a police officer and become a criminology professor instead. 

Joker stabbed him an insane amount of time. Making him rethink his entire life.  

You saw the scars on his body. 

Stab wounds you caressed many times, making him hold his breath in. 

He told you more than once, that nobody before you ever touched them in that way. Not even Selina. 

On the contrary, she usually avoided touching them, even if they covered a good part of his chest. You understood her though, when he got hurt and nearly died, they were together. And you couldn’t even imagine living this kind of thing…Your boyfriend almost dying and having to be reminded of that and the emotions you felt whenever you looked at his faded wounds.  

You’re not sure you’d touch them either, if you were her. But you weren’t. You didn’t even know him when he got stabbed. Hell, you were probably in middle school or something, trying to avoid school bullies and already thinking you’d become a cop one day, to stop this kind of idiots.

And you liked, carressing his scars. They were part of him. They were what turned him into a professor. What moulded a big part of his personality now. 

He told you two major things happened and changed his life radically. His parents’ death, and the Joker almost killing him. You definitely understood that. There’s things in life that can truly shape who you are.

Bruce. 

Bruce who caught the Joker, at the detriment of his own safety. 

Bruce. Bruce. What would Bruce do ? 

Your mind was slowly clearing up, as the effect of the ether Joker used to knock you out was finally fully withdrawing. 

Jesus, what were you thinking, getting lost into your thoughts about why you wanted to be a profiler ? And about Bruce’s scars ? Sure it had something to do with your current situation but geez, get a grip will ya ?! Your were in dire straits ! You ARE in dire straits !

You want to shake your head, as it always helped you regain your senses but…Your first instinct was the right one. Not moving. Just in case the Joker is here, observing you. Staying still means he can’t do much, since he’ll think you’re unconscious. 

Of course this trick won’t work for long, but for now it’ll save you some time to think about a way to get out of here. Or at least, to save even more time, in the hope that Bruce will show up.

Because you just know Bruce will come. 

After all, the Joker kidnapped you to lure him out right ? Wait…OH GOD ! Bruce was going to come ! That was bad ! Now that you knew why he « broke up » with you, to protect you and all, you couldn’t pretend to ignore your feelings anymore. Couldn’t pretend you hated him, or didn’t care for him much. 

You were still in love with him, of course you were ! And now you were a liability ! You were going to become the reason why his life was about to be in danger, and…oh god, last time he barely survived. Now, when the Joker has YOU in captivity you’re one more problem to think about and…

But the sound you heard earlier resonates again, taking you out of the massive freak out you were starting to have.

Again, you’re not quite sure what that it is, and so you ignore it once more, keeping still, eyes close. You really have to think about a way to…

But then you hear that same noise again, and your brain finally identify it. And this time you’re certain of what it is, and it freezes your blood in your veins. At the same time, it boils it.

It’s a weak sob.

A child’s sob.

Your eyes shoot open instantly, a motherly instinct awakening deep within you, making you forget that this is maybe a trick from the Joker !

But no. No it’s no trick.

The Joker is nowhere in sight and right there, in the corner of the room you’re in, curled in a little ball, lays the tiniest and cutest boy you’ve ever seen.

He couldn’t be more than 7 or 8 years old, and the poor thing was crying quietly and…you instantly forgot the awful situation you were in. Sitting up with difficulty, as your hands were tied in your back, you call out to him :

“Hey there.”

He screams out of surprise, and turns to you. 

And the fear in his eyes ? It makes you so angry. 

All of a sudden, the Joker doesn’t scare you anymore. In fact, you suddenly want to see him and bash his head in…granted, it would be difficult, given the fact that you’re hands are tied up in your back and such. 

But still, it makes you irationally angry, to see this scared little boy. Even more so since he has bruises on his face. What kind of monster hits such a cute little thing ?! Well, the answer is obvious. 

Gotham’s worst nighmare. John « The Joker » Doe.

The boy retreats even further in the room’s corner, and then he curls back in a ball again, and turns his back to you. And you suddenly have flashbacks of your own childhood, after your parents’ passed away and you found yourself all alone in an orphanage without anyone to take care of you. 

You try to crawl to him, feeling the strong need inside you to try and comfort him, but lose your balance and…fall face first. 

“OUTCH !”

Damn it, without hands to catch yourself, it really goddamn hurt ! Now, there’s the pounding in your head from being knocked out with ether by the Joker, but also the sharp sting of your face violently encountering the concrete floor. 

Fuck. 

You’re pretty sure you’re bleeding from your nose right now. Or your forehead ? Probably both. And you don’t even have the strength (or will really) to move. Well, you’re pretty sure this was the worst day of your life as of now so…

“Are you-are you ok ?”

A sweet little voice ask you shyly, and as you roll on your back with difficulty, you realize the boy walked on all fours to you, and is now sitting by your side.

He sniffles, and dries his tears with his sleeve, giving you a concerned look and…How much cuter this kid can be ? He looks genuinely worried for you, while you’re clearly a stranger, and he’s in such a dangerous place. 

Brave little bugger. 

You feel it in your guts, that kid went through a lot already and yet, yet here he is, worried you hurt yourself. Albeit he’s still a little wary and keeps his distance with you. Smart kid too. 

“You’re-You’re not with him, are you ?”

You know he’s talking about the Joker, and you say, disgust in your voice at the mere idea that the boy would think you’re with that psycho :

“I most definietly am not...”

There’s a moment of silence, and you can see that he’s studying you carefully, trying to figure out wether you’re one of the good guys or not. But as his eyes fall on your hands tied in your back, on the bruises on your face and arms…It seems he makes up his mind that you are, as he sniffles cutely once more, and reaches in his pocket for a handkerchief. 

And then he gets closer to you, slowly, carefully, ready to bolt if you make a sudden move. And when he finally reaches you, he hesitates a few seconds before delicately starting to dab his handkerchief on the wound you have on your forehead.

He doesn’t say anything, but he’s clearly focused on his task. And despite the awful situation, you have to smile lowly as he carefully gets the blood off of you. 

You have a sudden flashback of Bruce doing the same thing a few months back, and your heart squeezes in pain. Where was he now ? You surely hoped he was NOT gonna barge in head first, and confront the Joker. 

That asshole clearly had a plan, kidnapping you. The kid too, he had to have something to do with everything, though you weren’t sure what. 

You knew Bruce was coming, because it was clear to you now that he cared very much about you. That he was only trying to protect you by being so cruel…Stupid plan really, haven’t he seen any movies ? 

That old “I’m leaving you so you’ll be safe” trope never works. It always ends up in whoever is left being in danger BECAUSE she/he was left. 

But still, the fact he wanted to protect you makes you feel a bit better about this entire situation. If only you knew this was what he was trying to do BEFORE you got kidnapped, things could have gone so differently. 

The little one is done taking care of your wound now, and he sits back on his heels, kneeled in front of you, and gives you a shy unsure look. 

It breaks your heart. 

“Thank you.” 

You say in the sweetest most calming voice you can muster, and he almost smiles. Almost. 

“You’re welcome.”

You’re about to ask what his name is when a deep sorrow overtakes his eyes, and, in a small voice, on the verge of tears, he says :

“Did the bad man kill your mommy and daddy too ?”

You’re pretty sure you can hear your heart slowly tearing in two, as you look at that poor little boy starting to cry again and, you want to reach for him so bad, so so bad, but your hands are tied up and...You take a deep breath. 

In this kind of situation, staying calm was the key. You studied many cases of people able to escape a terrible fate by being smart and keeping their cool. 

And now, your life wasn’t the only one on the line anymore. That poor little kid was in grave danger too, and this motherly instinct in you ? It made you want to fight to  death to help him out. 

You’ve always wanted to join the police forces. You came from a poor neighboorhood so you witnessed first hand how bad it could get. You’ve always wanted to protect people. 

 And that scared child in front of you ? He reminded you a lot of yourself when you were about his age, and…Yes. You have to keep calm. For his sake. Nothing good will come of you breaking down too. 

Deep breath in. 

Deep breath out. 

And you ask :

“What’s your name ?”

Of course the poor boy doesn’t answer right away, the memory of his loss rushing back to his mind. 

The surprise of seeing someone else in that awful room took those thoughts away for a bit, but now he was thinking about it again and…and…his mom and dad…

You wait patiently, though you know you don’t have much time before the Joker will surely come back. But you don’t rush him, you know he’ll be able to get it out. You witnessed first hand how courageous that little one was already, so you just wait. And sure enough, inbetween sniffles, he says :

“Dick. My name is Dick. Grayson.” 

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

Bruce’s mind was running a thousand miles per hour.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

He was so sure he protected you when he broke up with you ! 

Oh but how stupid could he be ? Why did he rush to your appartment when he thought you might be in danger ? You couldn’t be in danger, the Joker thought you were nothing to him ; why would he bother ? If there was ONE thing Bruce knew about that psychopath, is that he never wasted time on what he thought was useless. 

Plus, it was sure that if he did know anything, and got a hold of you, he would have immediately informed Bruce. Before he could reach your apartment. 

So why did he rush in like that ?! When he knew deep down you were probably fine ?! Bruce didn’t think, and now you were in danger.

It seemed that Bruce could never quite think properly, when you were around.

You had this incredible soothing effect on him, and yet constantly made him feel like his head was going to explode. It was a complete paradox, he was well aware of that fact. But that was the only way he could sum up what you made him feel. 

Since day one, and against his better judgement, he knew you were special and couldn’t help trying to know you more. 

First of all, you were one of the best student he ever had, if not the best. You were passionate about the thing you did, and always had a smart come back. You had a knack to find the right words to use to make your essays both entertaining and to the point, yet full of every informations needed. 

And second, you understood him more than anyone he knew. More than Alfred himself. It seemed like he never really had to tell you what was on his mind for you to know. And for the first time since his parents died, it was easy to talk about himself and his feelings. 

And yet…yet sometimes he just lost all his capacity to think just because you smiled at him, or something that silly. You flustered him, and God he couldn’t remember who was the last person that made him blush like that ? Just by looking at him ?

So when he thought you were in danger, his brain didn’t quite do the math that it was probably another problem than the Joker, and he rushed to you like an idiot. 

Because, and he realized it now too late, he was so deep in love with you that he lost all reason when something was about you. 

He knew that if it was anybody else, he would have thought things through. Think about every possibility. Send someone to check on you, or call you hiding his number (as he knew you would never have answered him, not after what he did) or anything…But he would certainly never have left in the middle of class like he did, and ran to your apartment. De facto, leading the Joker right to you.

Thinking about it now, as he drove way over the speed limit to his destination, leaving you was probably the worst idea he ever had. Only now did it occur to him that keeping you close would have been the best solution. 

That making sure you were always in his sight was really the only way to protect you. It would have been easy too, since you spend most of your time at college, and then when you weren’t there you were usually with him. 

He realized now, cursing at himself in his mind, that acting as if you were nothing to him was idiotic. It could have been a good plan. If only he had been able to control himself. To think. But oh, oh he should’ve known since the beginning that this plan was doomed from the start. 

Because of course he’d freak out if you missed even just one day of class, thinking about the Joker. And of course this would make matters worst. Ah why, why didn’t he just tell you ? 

Instead, he hurt you. He broke your heart. Something he never wanted to do, which is why he tried to stay away from you (albeit failing miserably) in the first place. But he rationalized this decision by thinking you’d forgive him once he’ll tell you why he did it and once the Joker would be behind bars again. 

And even after taking this hurtful precaution, you were still in danger.

He knew that the Joker would come back to haunt him at some point. So why did he take stupid decisions after stupid decisions ?

Well, not all were as dumb as letting you go. 

For example, sending Selina to the West Coast was a good idea. Joker didn’t have any connection there, as he always operated in New Jersey and around that state. So it would make it virtually impossible for him to get to her. Plus, there was no way he could take a train or a plane, given how known by the authorities he was. If he wanted to go to her, he’d have to somehow drive across the counrty, which would allow Bruce enough time to find him again. 

The Joker killed mainly in Gotham and around, but was known in the entire country as his crime were truly horrific…and rather recent, no doubts there would be sighting of hima long the way. 

Plus Bruce was pretty sure that, unfortunately, John Doe wouldn’t be able to go across the country without murdering a few people along the way, which would warn him that he was tracking Selina. Yes, sending her away there was perfect. 

And secretly getting Alfred to Metropolis to stay at Clark’s house was a good move too. The Joker would never think of looking that close from home, plus, the fact that his adopted father was with someone like the famous reporter Clark Kent made it pretty sure that he would stay safe. Hiding in plain sight. 

Those two were the only people that truly counted for Bruce, and the only ones he knew Joker would go for. A man like him would never kidnap a mere acquaintance, a work colleague or a “friend” but not “close”, ya know ? Of course he wouldn’t. He’d go for the closest people to Bruce’s heart. So sending them where he send them was a good move.

But deciding to cut all contact with you because the Joker never saw you before, and because anyway your relationship was pretty much a secret ? 

That was dumb. He should’ve kept you close. He should’ve told you so you could stay alert. Instead, he thought that you’d be safest away from him, safest staying in the dark so Joker wouldn’t have any suspicion and…

Well, here we are.

Him driving to that god awful disinfect factory that used to be Joker’s lair, hoping to God that he’d find a way to save you. 

Because there was no doubt in Bruce’s mind, the Joker had EVERY intention to kill you. In front of him, to add to the drama. 

Bruce, and though he hated to admit it, was probably the person who knew John Doe the best. They played such a twisted game for MONTHS, years ago, when he was still a detective and Joker was Gotham’s worst nightmare. 

They came to know how each of their mind worked. And Bruce hated the fact that he fell right back into his claw, delivering to him the only person that could bring him back into that game…You.

Joker seemed to know perfectly well that to get Bruce back on his tail, he needed something big. That just starting to kill again wasn’t enough. Because he knew that sure, Bruce would help…but he wouldn’t be the one to go on the field. The one to actually run after him. 

He’d give every clue to some other detective and they’d be the one eventually picking him up and honestly, where was the fun in that ?

Bruce knew that the Joker wanted him. And that he probably planned this for a very very long time. And oh Bruce was so mad at himself for dragging you into this ! If only, if only he had kept his cool ! Didn’t rush to your apartment ! Then the Joker’s plan, whatever it was, wouldn’t have gone how he wanted to. 

As soon as Bruce received that text, “come and get her”, with a picture of you being hurt...He knew what the Joker wanted. To take everything from him again, in the hope to make him go back into “the game”. Make him return to being a detective, and chasing him. In John Doe’s mind, no one was worthy to go after him but Bruce Wayne. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

He just got played like a fiddle, falling right into his trap ! But what else could he do now ? This was between him and the Joker. And God he had to stop thinking about losing you and come up with a plan ! 

For now, his mind was trying to get back into gear. He had to, if he wanted to save you ! He knew he couldn’t just barge in like that, of course. The Joker would kill you before he could do anything. Well, not before playing around a little with him, and threatening you, hurtting you in front of him…Everything, everything to drive Bruce to the edge. 

Bruce had to come up with a plan, and as he parked in front of the factory, he finally managed to put thoughts of you aside to start to think of a way to get you out of there safe and sound.

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

“Ok Dick I-I know this hurts. I do. But right now, you and I, we have to be strong, ok ? We’ll be able to cry and be scared later, when our lives will be saved.”

That boy was stronger than any men you ever met. You were certain of it now, as you saw him try to hold his tears in and turn his eyes to you, ready to listen. 

It was difficult, to ignore the deep sorrow in his eyes, and how that cute little kid’s heart had been broken and probably would never be mended back together...How could it ? If you understood thing swell, that fucking Joker killed his parents right in front of him. How could you come back from such a trauma ? And yet..

Yet there was something else in that child’s eyes, that made you think that maybe, just maybe, with enough love and attention, he could sort of heal. Not completely, that was impossible. But he could become again the cheerful child you were sure he used to be. 

For now though, you pushed those thoughts away as you tried to straighten up as best you could. 

“Dickie, listen to me ok ? The bad man will come back, and I can’t do anything if I’m tied up. Do you think you could help me ?”

A little smile creeps its way on his face, and the boy says : 

“I-The magician in the circus my parents worked at ? He showed me tricks with knots and all. I think I can help.” 

“Aaah, clever one. Ok let’s try, alright ?” 

He nods and you turn around. He starts to take care of the rope but a yelp of pain from you stops him. 

Jesus those ropes were so tight, you didn’t notice up until now how painful it was. How much it constricted your blood flow. 

“I’m sorry !” 

He says, taking his hands away from the rope, but you’re fast to reassure him : 

“No no no, it’s ok. I’m just a little sore. Come on, go on. Don’t worry about it.” 

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

It only takes a few minutes for Dick to make quick work of the rope, and you’re finally free. The boy looks critically at the fallen rope and says : 

“Amateur work really. He didn’t tie it that much, it’s as if he wanted you to try and escape !”

Wait. Does he ? Connections are quickly made in your brain, and many scenarios of what Joker’s possible plans could be are running through your mind. But what if he wants you to escape ? Why ?  

If you play right in his game, then you both don’t have much chance of surviving. You have to make sure what his plan is before doing anything. And so you ask Dick : 

“This is going to be difficult to talk about, I know but...I need to-I need to know how you ended up here ?”

You can see him almost choke again, but this time he holds his tears back and doesn’t cry. 

Such a brave little bugger. 

And then he starts talking, once he’s sure his voice won’t shake too much : 

“My parents are circus performers ! I perform with them too. We’re acrobats. We were coming home from Gotham’s circus, do you know it ?” 

You nod. Yes. Yes you know it. You spend many of a time, during your childhood, dreaming of being a performer there and forgetting all your worries. It was a circus that always changed its number, and that wasn’t nomad. You loved it. Dick continues : 

“Well we were walking home. And we took the artists exit you know, at the back of the building, it comes out into an alleyway. And then...Then the bad man came to my parents, and threatened them with a gun. My parents tried to give him everything they had, but...He shot them anyway. He shot them for no reason. And then he took me. And he brought me here.” 

Your blood was boiling, as you slowly understood what the Joker was trying to do. As you were massaging your wrists to try to get them to work properly again, you continued to listen to the boy : 

“I’m not sure how long I’ve been here. Maybe a month ? Or two ? Every day he comes and give me one meal. Sometimes he hits me if I “don’t look sad enough”. He also keeps calling me “Bruce”, and say he gets me.” 

A month or two ? Right when Bruce broke up with you. Yes. Suspicion confirmed. The Joker used that boy to recreate Bruce’s trauma...but to what end ? You were thinking about it when...

“What the...” 

A voice makes both of you jump, as the door to the room you were both locked in opened violently, and the Joker appears. Well, one thing was sure, you escaping was NOT part of his plan, given the shocked look on his face. I guess he was just bad at tying knots. 

Without thinking much about it, you jumped up on your feet, the adrenaline making you forget how sore your body felt mere seconds before, and you rush towards him. And for one of the first time in his life, the man is so shocked that he doesn’t react fast enough. 

You body slam him, but in his fall he drags you with him, and you both fall on the floor pretty heavily. The Joker is a methodical man, a quick to react one. He regains his senses fast. 

He grabs a knife that was at his waist, and jams it in your thigh. The pain is so grand, that for a few fraction of a second, you don’t feel anything...until it hits you all at once and you scream. 

You also loose all the extra strength adrenaline gave you and the Joker takes advantage of this to roll on you and stuck you under him. A creepy smile from ear to ear, he looks at you with sparks in his eyes and say : 

“Oh, well I definitely get what he sees in you. You are perfect. The perfect bait.” 

But the psychopath forgot a vital piece of the puzzle...Little, brave Dick Grayson. The boy jumps on the man’s back without a second of hesitation, and starts to pull his hair aggressively, scratching and biting erratically making it very hard for the Joker to grab him. 

For a few second, he thinks about just killing the kid. Oh but it would ruin his plan wouldn’t it ? And so he settles to just knock him out, that’d be fine. He finally manages to grab one of the boy’s leg, and throws him on the floor, knocking him out instantly. 

“DON’T TOUCH HIM !”

In the meantime, you had gone back up on your feet and was ready to fight. And when he throw the kid on the ground ? You saw red. There was no doubt in your mind you could win this fight, even as he had a knife. 

After all, you trained enough at school and in self-defense classes. In the streets too, as you grew up in a tough neighborhood. The only reason he was able to overpower you in the first place was because your body was weaker than usual, but also because you had to act fast and didn’t make the best decision fight wise. And you...You freeze. 

He has a gun. Of course he does. And he’s pointing it at Dick. 

“I admire your courage, but you make one more move, and I blow his brain out.” 

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

Bruce finally came up with a plan. He wasn’t sure if it was the best one, but it was all he got for the moment. 

The factory, he knew, only had one entrance. And going through a window would be too obvious. He came to just feel it in his guts that if he went in from anywhere else but the main, only entrance...The Joker would just instantly kill you, as he would consider him cheating. 

And he hated, cheaters. 

So Bruce resolved to go in through the main door. 

Outside the factory, he took a few minutes to think. To regain his senses. To try and forget about you, try to think of you as a random citizen...And it worked. For a few minutes he forgot about his love for you, and how worried he was. How impulsive it made him. 

And he came up with a plan, after understanding what the Joker was trying to do. It didn’t take a genius, really, to understand it...Nope. 

All it took, was someone like Bruce, who knew the Joker better than anyone else.

Unfortunately, the opposite was true too. 

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

Joker became obsessed with Bruce when he was the only one that seemed to be able to track him down. Until then, nobody was able to even get a hint of who or where this guy was ! 

And here came that young detective who had caught so many of his « colleagues », and in a matter of a few weeks he was already very close to catching him ! How could he not become obsessed ? 

And excited. 

The Joker killed for months (and years before that, according to him, but people no one cared about…hookers, homeless people, those who had nobody to report their disappearance). 

He seemed unstopable. People in Gotham became even more scared and weary of each others. The other criminals took advantage of this heavy atmosphere to do their worst each day...

And here came that beam of light, Detective Bruce Wayne, who was tailing him closely. Killing became even more exciting, knowing now that he might get caught ! And it ultimately ended in a face to face in his headquarter, with him ending behind bars, and Bruce ending in a hospital bed…

The Joker was devastated when he learned Bruce retired from being a detective and became a professor. And that’s when he started to make a plan to get out of prison…He had to bring his favorite toy back in.

Especially because it was an unfinished game. It was supposed to be over when one of them was dead ! That’s how games end ! 

How frustrating, to go through all those trouble. To settle such a perfect entertainment, only for it to finish that blandly. One player in prison for the rest of his life, the other one becoming...a teacher. 

Outrageous. 

And so John “The Joker” Doe had to come up with a plan to finally finish the game. At first, he wanted to kidnap Bruce’s adopted father, but he was nowhere to be found. Then he settled for his lover but...well, he realized there was a better prize than Selina Kyle. 

Yes. Yes there was better. 

You. The woman Bruce Wayne was actually in love with. 

And oh the man almost lead him astray, making him think you were just a little toy of his ! It made sense at the time. You were his student. A man like Bruce couldn’t seriously date one of his student right ? It wasn’t in his principles. He was a serious man who had a set of rules he never transgressed. Dating one of his student was out of the question, even someone like Joker could see and understand this. It was unethical. 

And yet. Yet as John witnessed him rush to your apartment when he thought something happened to you...Well, he had to admit that maybe Bruce didn’t always follow his own rule. Maybe you were the exception that confirmed it. And for sure, his old rival had very strong feelings for you. 

After all, he left in the middle of a class to see if you were alright. He broke your heart, something Joker knew was very unlike Bruce Wayne, just to make him think there was nothing between you two. He was genuinely scared for your safety...

Oh yes. Yes. John didn’t know much about love, he never quite felt him himself. But he could recognize nonetheless. And what he saw in Bruce’s eyes as he rushed to you ? Oh it was definitely that. A deep and stupid love, that made him act like an idiot. 

That made him break his own rule. 

Which was exactly what the Joker was looking for. Someone that could make the great Bruce Wayne break his own rules. 

Someone...Someone that could convince him to kill. 

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

And here you were, tied up again. 

To a chair this time. Joker just took a picture of you earlier, and you were pretty sure he send it to Bruce. And now, that asshole was calmly pacing in the giant main factory room, waiting for him. 

Dick was also tied to a chair, but still unconscious. The Joker goddamn duct tape his head to the seat, so it would look like the boy was sitting normally. What a fucking psycho ! 

You found a little solace though, in seeing the little boy’s chest rising up and down regularly. He didn’t seem to be in any danger right now, just very knocked out. 

At least, whatever Joker had in mind, the little one wouldn’t witness it. 

You were trying to figure out what was Joker’s end goal when...

The door of the factory opened, and Bruce carefully walked in, hands in the air. 

“No. No no no NO ! What are you doing here Bruce ? What are you doing ?!” 

You heard yourself exclaim, unable to stop yourself. Bruce turned to you, and gave you a genuine smile. He winked and mouthed the words “trust me”, before walking further into the room and stopping a few meters from you and the Joker. 

He gave a quick glance to the unconscious boy, and then to you, before focusing once again on his enemy. 

“Well, finally our guest of honor is here. The show can start !”

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

Bruce never felt so sick before in his life. And this was all his fault. All his. 

The scream of the boy, echoing his when he was a child. 

And the two shots fired quickly, consecutively. A surprised gasp later, and both of the parents were dead. For no reasons. Just like that. Three lives ruined.

The kid looking up, tears in his eyes. But hatred too. Hatred towards the one who just murdered the two people he loved the most in the World. 

And then a laugh. An inhuman laugh in the face of such a horrible thing. And the Joker running towards the camera that recorded it all, and saying : 

“Well now THAT, was a mighty performance. Maybe better than the original, uh Bruce ?” 

And then it cuts to black. And you and Bruce are left with nothing but horror, and sadness. You both look at the still unconscious kid, and then back at the TV that only shows statics now, as the video is over. 

Bruce’s heart stops beating for a while, as he looks at the poor boy. And he’s glad that the kid is unconscious...because what would he tell him if he wasn’t ? This was his fault. His. He was the reason the Joker killed his parents.

And then...Then you turn towards the Joker, and you’re both utterly disgusted to witness how excited he is. How he stands there, proud, and expectant. He jumps up and down on his spot, utterly thrilled. Pleased with himself. 

Neither you nor Bruce say anything, still in shock of what you just witnessed. But finally, unable to wait any longer, the Joker burst into a delighted laughter before saying : 

“I had to film it. To keep it real you know ? I wanted to do it here at first, in front of ya, but then I realized it wouldn’t quite work, because they’d know what’s going to happen right ? But when it happened to you, it was a surprise. It had to stay a surprised. So I settled a camera, and filmed it. I’m pretty proud of myself. It’s my very first movie. I think I shall take a camera with me now, whenever I go out. So people can see my art, you know ?”

He takes a thoughtful pose, and you can’t help but wonder how the Hell such a monster exist ? What made him that way ? Your classes about profiling all come back at once, but you can’t find an answer. 

The Joker truly was something else. Deserving his own category. He presses the gun on your temple a bit more, and turns back to Bruce before adding :  

“Now that. The boy ? It’s just a bonus. For you. A gift, if ya will. To get you into the mood. You see, I figured that witnessing the same kind of trauma you went through would help a lot, in achieving my goal.” 

Bruce’s jaw was on the brink of breaking, as he tightened it to the max, trying to control his anger. And his guilt. 

“I figured, knowing that you were the reason that poor boy went through exactly the same thing than you would be a good start.” 

“Don’t listen to him Bruce, it’s not your fault ! He’s the one that killed those poor pe-” 

You start, but never finish, as the Joker hits you hard with the back of his gun. And Bruce takes a step towards you. But the Joker has his guns back on your temple. 

“Tuh tuh tuh Brucie. Don’t take another step or that pretty little brain you like so much will have to be scraped off of the floor. So. What was I saying ? Oh yes, little Bruce Jr here was a...mis-en-bouche, if you will. Now to the main course.” 

There’s a heavy silence, and the Joker just smiles at Bruce. And Bruce is utterly disgusted to find that the smile the psycho is giving him is tender. Almost loving. It makes him feel sick. 

“I couldn’t find dear old Alfred, by the way. Send him away did ya ? Neither could I find Selina anywhere...Good call really. I mean, I would have found them at some point, we both know it. But it would have been disappointing in the end, right ? Cause this one is definitely a more important prize huh ?” 

He elbows you harshly in the guts, and the air is knocked out of your lungs. You cough a few times, as Bruce take one more step towards the Joker, his arms falling at his sides, and his hands balling into fists. 

The Joker smiles cruelly, and continues : 

“Given your reaction...Yes. Yes my choice was right. She’s definitely the one.“

But Joker’s smile quickly turned into a frown. Why wasn’t Bruce reacting more than that ? Why wasn’t he saying anything ? This was no fun if he stayed passive ! Ah. Maybe he needed a little more convincing ? 

And so the Joker turns to you, and grabs your hair...Before head butting you hard in the face, making you yelp in pain. And then he digs his finger into your knife wound in your thigh, and twist...And though you try to not scream, it hurts too much. 

Your pained voice pierces Bruce’s ears, and he can’t take any of it anymore. His voice booms in the factory : 

“ENOUGH ! Leave her alone ! And get to the point already. Tell me what you want. Stop beating around the bushes, the game have been dragging on for far too long. For years, in fact, and I’m tired of it. Time to play your final cards. So get on with it already.” 

Ah. Ah clever man. The Joker smiled again, as he was utterly charmed by Bruce’s choice of words. That man was always the best to find a way to talk to him, to speak his langage. 

“Ok. Ok I get it. It is time to end our game, isn’t it ? To end the one we started so long ago...Well. I will not beat around the bushes further then. And here we go. The reason I brought the boy and recreated your trauma and induce your anger. And the reason I got her...It’s simple really.” 

Bruce already knows what he’s about to say, but he doesn’t spoil the Joker’s fun. It could go very wrong, if he does that. So he listens on : 

“I’m afraid, mister Wayne...That you’ll have to kill me if you want her to survive.” 

So this was it. This was what all of this was about. 

Bruce killing him. 

Ah. But of course. 

Many years ago, when the Joker stabbed him over and over again, he kept repeating “kill me, kill me now if you want to survive and to end it all”. But no matter how awful that man was, Bruce couldn’t resolve to kill him. 

When he joined the police forces, he made himself a promise to never kill anyone, at the cost of his own life if need be. His colleagues constantly made fun of him for it, as it didn’t make sense to them. 

But Bruce...Bruce had his reasons. One of them being his parents’ murder. If he killed, even just once, Bruce would feel closer to that monster. He would be no better. And though for most it didn’t make any sense and was illogical...To Bruce, it was a question of sanity. 

His parents’ killer took away his faith in people. And it’s only after years and years of Alfred loving him, taking care of him. And of witnessing that there was also good in this World, that Bruce was able to slowly heal. Not completely, but enough to live properly. 

Enough so that when true happiness came knocking at his door, he answered and wasn’t afraid to let it in. When you came in his life, and though he should have done it...he didn’t push you away.  

So killing someone ? It would bring him back to square one. And this time, he was pretty sure there wouldn’t be enough Alfred in the world to help him heal.

So even though he joined the police forces, he swore he would never kill anyone. He would always find a way, at the detriment of his own life. 

This was his rule. His one big rule. 

And Joker knew about it. He read about it in the paper. And when they finally came face to face ? He tried to force him to kill him, but failed. 

The Joker, when he discovered Bruce Wayne, lost all the fun he used to have killing people. It used to be his favorite thing, torture and murder. But then that guy came in, and managed to discover his plans BEFORE he would make them and...it became more exciting than the killing. 

Was he gonna catch him ? Was he not ? 

And then when he read about that young detective refusing to kill...His new obsession was to force him to. To drive him over the edge. Which is why he escaped. If Bruce had stayed a detective, maybe he would have just stayed in his cell, catatonic. Ignoring the world, as he finally got caught...

But Bruce quit, and with it, his chances of ever killing someone. The game wasn’t over. And the Joker had to do something about it. 

It took years of preparation to escape this hell hole. But he did. And...

Here. 

They. 

Were. 

“It’s quite simple, right ? You just...Have to shoot me. And she’ll be safe. And I won’t hurt anyone anymore.”  

The Joker was clearly enjoying himself, as he continued :

“You know me the best Bruce. It’s only fair that you’re the one that finally kills me ! That catches me for good !” 

To add to everything, the Joker hits you once more, and you slowly loose consciousness, not being able to take much more of it. You want to tell Bruce not to do it. You know about his rules, about what it’d do to his mind if he killed anyone. And you didn’t want that to happen. 

But you’re too weak to say anything, and the Joker keeps going :

“Oh but I know you very well too, don’t I ? I know you’re currently trying to find another option. To think that there’s a way to save her. Because you don’t want to kill me. I know you, I know why. I know you. But here’s the thing, Bruce. You know me too. And if you don’t kill me, then she dies. Simple. Right ? Oh but you won’t do it, because you still hope for a better outcome, one where we all survive uh ?” 

There’s another silence, as Joker presses his gun hard against your temple and look at Bruce with the face of an utter madman. An utter madman who is sure he won, who is sure the chase is back on.  

But then...Then Bruce smiles, and it takes the Joker aback. 

“You know me, huh ? Well. I guess not that much, in the end.” 

Everything goes so fast, and yet your entire world is slowing down. Bruce takes a gun out of his belt, and aims at the Joker faster than you ever saw someone aim. And the Joker ? 

Well...Well he’s completely shocked. So much in fact, as he never expected this outcome, that he doesn’t even think about pulling the trigger and killing you. Instead, he just looks dumbly at Bruce taking his gun out and...

In the end, it’s good that Dick is unconscious. It’ll avoid further trauma, of witnessing someone else die in front of him. No matter how vile that someone was. 

One shot this time. Just one. Right into the brain. 

And the sound of a body hitting the floor. 

“If it’s between the life of someone I love, and killing someone ? I will never hesitate.” 

And here was Joker’s fatal mistake. 

He never took into account that Bruce’s rule about no killing, was at the detriment of HIS OWN life. That he never took a partner on purpose. That whenever he refused to kill, he only jeopardized his own life. 

The Joker thought he knew Bruce Wayne. Thought he knew the reason why the man would never kill anyone...but he forgot one important thing. 

Love. 

Love is what always drove Bruce forward. 

What made him want to become a cop, and make a better world. What made him decide to train future generations of cop and become a professor, further bettering said World. 

Love. 

And if it was between saving what he loves the most and killing ? Then he would do it. Because it wasn’t about saving his own life. It was about saving an innocent one, from a psychopath like the Joker. 

If Bruce had been alone with Joker, faced with the dilemma of either dying or killing...The he would have most likely died. But when the Joker decided to bring you in ? He signed his death warrant right there. 

Bruce had a strict “no killing” rule on the job. But this ? This wasn’t the job. 

If it was between saving someone good, and killing a bad person ? Well, he pulled the trigger without thinking much about it. 

In the end, the Joker didn’t know him at all. He never even thought about the possibility that Bruce valued love above anything else. Never even thought this situation wasn’t the same than the one years ago, when he was stabbing him and yet Bruce didn’t do anything to kill him, instead just neutralized him. 

In the end, Joker never realized what truly drove Bruce forward. 

There, faced with the Joker holding a gun against your temple, Bruce knew there was no other way. It was either letting him kill you, or killing him. And he did not hesitate. 

There was no third solution this time. And Bruce didn’t care. Because if it meant saving you...if it meant saving you then he would get rid this Earth of a killer, even if it meant he became a killer in turn. 

But here, as the Joker’s body hit the floor and Bruce let go of his gun...He felt strangely at peace. He didn’t feel that dread, that despair he thought he would feel. That feeling of being closer to his parents’ killer because he just did the same thing than him...

Because in the end ? He didn’t just murder a good person, a random person. He killed someone to save someone else’s life. He killed the evilest man he ever met, to save his love. 

And it didn’t feel as bad as he thought it would. 

Of course, he knew it was because he just killed the man that was Gotham’s biggest nightmare, a man that killed hundreds of innocents. And that was about to kill you, too. 

In any other circumstances, Bruce wouldn’t have killed the Joker. He would have captured him again, and try and make sure he would never escape again. To be honest, he would have probably gone back to being a detective...

But because Joker threatened you, because he hurt an innocent boy like that little unconscious one right there, because...because killing him meant finally making things right...It didn’t feel bad. 

He wouldn’t say that he was glad he just killed someone. 

But it wasn’t making him disgusted in himself. It wasn’t throwing him back into that dark pit he was in after his parents’ murder. It wasn’t...It wasn’t changing him. 

He was still Bruce. 

He was still himself. 

Because the reason he did it was to save you. The love of his life. 

The love of his life ? 

As he thought that, walking towards you to swiftly untie you...It became clear to him. 

Of course. 

The love of his life. 

He laid you down on the floor, saying : 

“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna take care of the kid.” 

You nodded weakly, finally letting go after hours and hours of fear and pain. You were safe now that he was here. 

Bruce untied Dick too, and caught him delicately in his arms, before going back to you. He kept the boy tight against his chest, not quite sure why but...he felt the need to protect him now. 

The kid didn’t seem to have very bad injuries, but he was definitely knocked the fuck out. You sat up, and just fell into his arms too. 

And for a few minutes, Bruce just stayed there, holding both you and the child against him, tightly, not letting go. Having no intention to ever let go. 

You barely register the cop pouring in in the factory at some point. Bruce probably called them before coming, knowing his plans was the only one that could work. 

You loose consciousness as you’re carried into an ambulance, Bruce following. Dick is laid next to you in another bed. 

And the last thing you see, is Bruce’s face running his hand in your hair and saying that “everything was alright now”, that it was “all over, forever”. And the last thing you hear, before finally falling asleep, is him saying : “I love you”. 

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

It was the day of your graduation, and you couldn’t fucking believe this was all finally over. In a few months, after settling a few things down, you’d start your job as a trainee-profiler at the GCPD. It was very rare, to have such a position right out of school ! 

I guess it helped, to date an ex-detective. Well, it also helped to be very talented in your area, and to graduate top of your class. 

But also, to date an ex-detective. 

Oh yes, because by now, and after the very public second catch of the Joker (the rumors of his escape leaked, and it was soon enough that the journalists discovered that Bruce was once again the one that caught him...For good this time. And therefor found out about your involvement in the matter.), everybody knew you two were a thing. And unlike what you or Bruce thought...it was accepted almost immediately by everyone. 

The dean of the school wasn’t particularly happy that one of his teacher was sleeping with a student...But hey, at least this affair wasn’t as bad as some other. At least you were both serious about each others.

The only ones that were sour about it really, were all of those who had a massive crush on Professor Wayne. Now that he was dating someone like you, they definitely had NO chance whatsoever. Such a shame.

And the general public ? Well they couldn’t really care less, if you were teacher/student. All they gained from the story was that Bruce Wayne was Gotham’s hero again, and that it was very romantic that he saved his girlfriend. Plus they were all over the fact that you ended up adopting that poor little kid the Joker made an orphan of...

Ah, talking about Dick. Right now, he was the one giving you all the courage in the World, as your name just got called and you had to walk up the stage to fetch your diploma. So stressful ! But the boy yelling : 

“YEAH MOM GOOOO ! YEAAAAH !! YOU’RE AWESOME !! HEY THAT’S MY MOM ! THAT’S MY MOM WALKING ON THE STAGE !!” 

At the top of his lungs made you chuckle, and relaxed you in a way that only your young son could. 

You go up the stage, and take your diploma. Shake the hand of the headmaster,  move the little thingy from one side of your cap to the other, and then go down. As you do so, you look at the crowds, and spot them. 

You were only hearing your son cheering you on at first, but now...Now you see him. He’s sitting on his father’s shoulders, applauding you and waving excitedly towards you. 

You wave back, smiling, and happier than you ever thought possible. 

Bruce smiles at you, of this fond and tender smile he only ever gave you or his son. He’s holding onto his boy’s thighs as the boy, too excited for you, wiggles way too much and almost falls at his every moves. 

Oh man. What a few wild years it has been. 

After Bruce got rid of the Joker permanently, you and him got back together. Of course you would, you were made for each others, it would have been stupid to not get back together. 

You did scold him a lot about how he was being stupid, thinking you were better off without him...And you made him promise to never leave like that again. He agreed. In fact, he agreed so much that in the spur of the moment, he asked you to marry him. 

It caught you very much off guard. But little Dickie was in the room too at that moment and his little “say yes !” brought you back to your senses. 

Of course you said yes, even though you’d technically been together for only six months. Because in your mind ? There was no doubt he was the one. 

You did planned the wedding for only AFTER you graduated though. You were too busy otherwise. Even more so since you were a mom, now. 

It just seemed natural for Bruce, to adopt the kid. To give Dick a new home. At first, Bruce felt so guilty and sad and...But the young boy made it clear that he was not mad at him. 

That he didn’t consider him to be at fault. That it was all the Joker, and his twisted view of the World. Such an intelligent and compassionate kid, for his age ! Ah but you knew it since the first time you saw him ! 

Over the months, Dick truly opened up to you and Bruce, and did became the cheerful little one you knew he used to be. Of course, there was still moments he missed his parents...but you and Bruce gave him all the love and attention he needed, and helped him slowly healed. 

Just like Alfred helped Bruce heal all those years ago. 

Yes. So many things happened in the past few years. Balancing being a mom and a student in such a difficult field as yours was difficult at times...But thanks god, Bruce was there to support you too. 

You helped each others perfectly, being utterly complementary. Besides, in emergencies, there was always Mister Pennyworth to save the day ! 

You stopped taking Bruce’s class though. Not because people were talking about how he was going easier on you than any other students (everyone noticed anyway...I mean, that room was full of people who were to become detectives and whatnot, of course they picked up on things). Or because it was unethical to date your teacher. Nope. 

It was because neither you nor Bruce could quite focus, when you were both in the same room. Dick said that you were both too “grossly in love” for that. So you dropped out of his class, taking another criminology one. 

Your new teacher was less entertaining and not as good, but it was fine as you had private lesson back at home. Private lessons than more often than not ended up being very VERY “private”. 

Yeah. Here, standing with your peers as you finally graduated, looking at your new family...You couldn’t help but reflect on those past few years. 

There was some hardship, of course. You and Bruce sometimes fight (over the silliest things) like every couple, and Dick wasn’t always an easy kid (he could have huge sprout of anger). But you’ve never been happier. 

And now, as you were about to take another step in your life, you couldn’t help but think that wow, you did came a long way, since that time you fantasized about your criminology teacher...

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

It was your first day at work and you were both excited and nervous. Bruce was already at work, and Dick was at school. But both of them left sweet post-its all around the house telling you you were totally gonna rock today ! 

How sweet. And how silly it was, to be that pumped up by little post-it notes ! But it was too cute, the thought of your husband and son spending the early hours of the day writing you loving notes just made your day.

You exited the new house you and Bruce just bought, in the outskirt of Gotham (a neighborhood that was much calmer crime was, and good to raise children), and went to your car when...

“What the Hell ?!”  

You couldn’t believe your eyes. What ? WHAT ?! 

“Hey what are you doing ?!” 

Before he can run off, you grab him by the collar and he fights back for a bit. 

“Calm down, Jesus calm down. I’m not about to hurt you or anything. But I don’t know how to change a tyre so like, can you please put them back ?” 

The drive way to your house was out of sight from the street, which you guessed is why he chose your car...

He. 

A little boy, who couldn’t be more than eight, and yet that definitely expertly took all your tyres off of you car and that was about to run off with them one by one if you hadn’t caught him ! 

He’s surprised that you’re not screaming at him or threatening to call the police, and so he stops struggling. You take a quick look at him and..Yup. Definitely a street child. Like there’s unfortunately many in Gotham. He’s much too dirty to have a home... 

“What’s your name ?” 

He looks warily at you, and you add : 

“Again, I’m not gonna hurt you or anything. I just want to know your name, and for you to put the tyres back. I’m awful at manual things.” 

He doesn’t answer for a few more seconds, before saying : 

“Jason. My name is Jason. Todd.” 

You have a sudden flashback to that day you met Dick, in that godawful place when you got kidnapped by the Joker. There was something in that kid’s eyes, that reminded you of your son. And the way he gave you his name...

An odd feeling was growing in your heart, a strange unstoppable feeling. 

“Well, Jason Todd. Are you hungry ? I was about to grab some breakfast, if you wanna join me ?” 

The same feeling you had, when you met Dick. A motherly instinct overtaking everything else. 

He looks at you curiously. And you can tell you’re the first person in a long time that paid attention to that kid. There’s such sadness deep behind his eyes...And you know. 

You know that this boy too, will join your little family. And that you’ll do everything in your power to fix him too. 

But for now, not wanting to freak him out, treating him to a good breakfast was going to be enough. 

The End.

_________________________________

Not gonna lie, finishing this series was a struggle. Mainly because I didn’t want to disappoint, so whenever I started to write I kept erasing everything thinking it was awful so...yeah. Anyway I hope it did not disappoint to much. And...I think I’m gonna stop writing series and stick to one shots haha. Anyway. As usual, feedbacks = life, and reblogs are always beyond appreciated <3. 

[kattipatang]

Idk what I’m doing lol... but life’s a mess

Back in the day I wrote out my entire life story and it gave me a lot of clarity and resolve. Nearly a decade later, I am going to do the same in hopes that I find some self-healing. Perhaps I can also validate my feelings so I don’t feel like I am entirely crazy for feeling the way I feel. FYI for those who know me, please note that (to my knowledge) I have removed my pictures and mentions of my name from this blog and do not wish to be identified at this moment. I would appreciate it if you could respect that.

I’m going to start all the way back in 2010. I came out as gay while I was in high school. I was met with a wave of support and love from students and faculty, except for a select few homophobes. However, if I thought they were bad, things were about to get much worse.

In early July 2010, I was awakened by my mother at 3am in the morning. This was very unusual, and the look on her face was one of pain and grief. She led me into a secluded room of the house where my uncle (her brother) sat waiting, my phone placed on the counter in front of him. My mom and father and gotten divorced after an abusive marriage, and we had moved in with my uncle and his family when I was 11 years old. Therefore, my uncle was a father figure for me.

I was made to sit down in between them, and the interrogation began. They had gone through my phone and found texts I sent to my friends, talking about my sexuality, and they claimed that they had also found out through the grapevine. I was yelled at by my uncle. He asked perverse and inappropriate questions about my sexuality, with dramatic monologues about how I am bringing shame to our immaculate family name that would put some of Bollywood’s most melodramatic moments to shame. All this occurred while my mother sat and silently weeped. Two hours of emotional and verbal abuse later I was sent back to bed.

The next morning, my uncle took my mom and disappeared for hours. Turns out they had gone to the doctor to discuss my situation, and a wave of relief washed over me. “Thank God,” I thought, “at least this person will see reason.”

I was wrong.

My uncle and mother came back hours later and took me with them to the car. My uncle leading, me behind him, and my mother closing in on me behind me. This would be the formation that would take place if we ever stepped out from here on out. For the next week, I had no cell phone, no access to the landline, no computer, no internet, all my friends were gone away for the summer - I was completely isolated.

Anyway, they drove me to the doctor’s office in the late afternoon, which I found odd because the office would have been closed by now. Sure enough, when we arrived at the clinic, there was a “Closed” sign on the door. However, my uncle opened it and lead me inside, with my mother following after me.

I was taken straight through the empty clinic - even the receptionist had gone home, so there was no record of my visit - and I was led into the doctor’s office, where he sat waiting for me. I walked in alone and the door was shut behind me.

What followed was a series of pseudo-scientific explanations as to how I’m mentally ill, disturbed and perverted. “This is a sickness,” he said. “God didn’t intend you to be this way.”

He added that this was probably because I don’t maintain a relationship with my father and was raised by a single mother, and I just need to “learn to be a man.” “And if you like anal sex, you know you can do that with a woman too you know?”

I was dejected. Destraught. Absolutely destroyed on the inside. A person I thought to be a voice of reason, was spewing the same judgemental ignorant rhetoric my uncle was. The irony makes me laugh though nine years later, because this year his wife discovered that he had been sleeping with a patient for the past several years. What a morally strong man…

The rest of the week is a bit of a blur. I disassociated myself for most of it. However the gist of it was my uncle interrogated me to see who I had sex with, my mother became suicidal, and my uncle became homicidal.

At one point he made explicit threats to my life, and I had to do an internal inventory. I can’t afford to run away and live on my own, I don’t want my mom to die, and I don’t want to get killed. So, I bit the bullet and basically faked a “recovery” to keep the peace. I had had enough of the emotional and mental abuse and manipulation from my uncle and just wanted some reprise.

I have a cousin I am extremely close with who I am out to. He lives out of province, and he was and is the biggest ally I have in my life. When he found out what was happening to me, he called my uncle. My uncle said something that concerned him, so he told me to fly out and stay with him for the duration of the summer until it was time for me to go back to school.

I did so and it was an amazing time. However, during that trip I also learned of how twisted my uncle’s brain truly was. He had told my cousin multiple ways in which he wanted to “deal with the mess” including murder, forced re-allocation and isolation, and he even wanted to hire a female sex worker to come rape me.

That stunned me, and I have never had a proper relationship with my uncle since.

Years went by, and it appeared as though the situation had been swept under the rug. My plan was to save up enough to one day pack my bags and leave, never to look back again. My mother and uncle were super close and he could have easily taken care of her in my absence.

That plan, however, was put on halt when the elders in the family decided that my mother should finally have a house of her own, a dream she had always had but never experienced. However, that would not be possible if I didn’t step up and help pay a portion of the mortgage. In actuality, I was given no choice either, so I put a stone on my heart and sacrificed my personal freedom so I could give my mother the comfort she deserves.

During the construction of the house though, everything went to shit. One day at the job site, a construction worker made fun of my more gentle mannerisms and began to make homophobic jokes. My uncle overheard and that was just the fodder he needed to begin making my life a living hell all over again.

From early 2016 until today, my uncle has been emotionally and mentally abusing me and anyone who will stick up for me. My mother would defend me, and he began to emotionally and mentally abuse her too.

I am stuck in the shittiest circumstance. My uncle and mother are waiting with bated breath to see what I do next.

My mother wants me to get married to a woman, something I will never do. My uncle WANTS me to flat out come out so he can further torture me verbally and/or physically, and make a spectacle out of my mother for having the audacity to speak up against his abusive tendencies.

And I honestly don’t know what the fuck I should do. On one hand, I refuse to marry a woman to please society. On the other hand, when I come out, my mother will want to have nothing to do with me, and with me gone, my uncle (and my aunt has joined the squad now) will have free reign to torture and harrass my mother. On top of that my mom won’t be able to make payments for the house, the house will be foreclosed, and my mom and sister will be forced to live on the streets, or move back in with my abusive uncle.

Just this past week while I was out of the house, my uncle came over to taunt my mother, because he knows he's emotionally vulnerable and won’t stick up for herself. He came over and told her that she’s basically unwanted and uncared for. That the people around her are going to treat her like a laughing stock. That no one is society will talk to her or say anything good about her because her son is a fag who will ruin the family izzat.

Izzat is something he is HELLBENT about. Back in the day when my mom was about to start college, he cornered her before she was about to leave the house and said “No one knows you for who you are, they know you as my sister. So if you fuck around with any guys whatsoever, I’m going to slit your throat and kill myself.” *slow clap for the amazing pep talk*

I am fucking exhausted. For the past nine years I have been surviving, not living. I go day in day out afraid for my life, afraid for what the future holds for my mother and sister. I’m afraid that something may happen to me, and no one will know and he will continue to live his life showing himself to be this perfect human who can never do any wrong.

However, I refuse to let that happen. Even if it’s the last thing I do, one day I am going to expose him and his truth to the world. He taunted my mother saying no one will care for her? Everyone is going to remember my mother for the beautiful soul that she is. It’s HIM that is going to be shunned by society for being the manipulative abusive psychopath that he is.

Everything is going to be made public one day. Crystal clear. Bright as day. I will make an example out of him, that if you around manipulating and abusing people for your little-man-syndrome/false pride, this is how you will be publicly disgraced and humiliated.

Until then, I need to go seek therapy, heal myself, and get ready to fight for not just my life, but for the sake of my mother and my sister. I had finally gotten to a point where I was actually excited to wake up in the morning. But now I’m back in that mental hole where when as soon as I wake up a wave of dread sweeps over me and I wish I hadn’t woken up. I would be lying if I said I have a will to live. However, I also refuse to do anything that would put my mother at risk for more abuse.

The thing that frustrates me the most is that while all this happened, NOTHING changed in my life. My struggle remained the same. As people zoom by me in life, getting amazing opportunities, running businesses, finding amazing life partners, just living their best life, I’m standing here like my legs are stuck in a block of cement. Feeling like I’m broken, lost, unworthy, unlovable, undesirable, and a failure.

Until I can do something, I could really use all the prayers I could get.

[heyyyharry]

Open Book

(from the Flatmate!Harry Series)

…in which Y/N meets a stranger in the library, and Harry’s got new problems to face.

Warning: mostly fluff and a bit of naughty texting, also this is the longest chapter so far I think so probably there’s a bunch of mistakes in here because I was too frustrated to edit. 😂

(I wanted to update my other series In Another Life before this but I accidentally deleted half of the third chapter of that series so yeah I’m just gonna update this first. This chapter is really long, I hope it’s not too confusing because it’s hard to write when the main characters are in two different locations and timezones. This motivates me to bring Harry home sooner (or maybe bring Y/N to Harry?). Anyway, enjoy and drag me if you must, my inbox is open!)

.

Y/N is one of the few people left in the library tonight. There’s an exam coming up so she plans to stay here until closing hour. Despite trying to focus on her text book, Y/N can’t help but notice the guy sitting two tables away has been staring at her ever since she sat down. He looks away whenever their eyes meet, it’s very obvious, but Y/N doesn’t care. She just wants to finish this chapter then comes home to call Harry.

It’s 8PM now, the library is closed so Y/N has to leave. She makes her way to the bus stop on her own, subconsciously thinking about Harry like she always does, until her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of someone else’s footsteps.

She’s not alone.

There’s this middle-aged man walking behind her. She speeds up, he speeds up, she slows down, he slows down. Y/N’s first thought is maybe she should call Harry, but then she remembers he’s living on the other side of the world now, he cannot be here to save her.

“Y/N!”

Y/N spins around immediately. Her eyes flicker with a light of hope when she sees the boy in the library walking towards her. The middle-aged man notices as well, then ends up quickly walking away. He cannot do anything to her now that a tall and strong young man suddenly appears.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know who you are and how you know my name but thank you for saving my life,” she says quickly in one breath, which makes the guy laugh in response.

“You left your notebook behind, your name was on it,” he tells her with a gentle smile and returns the notebook to its rightful owner. “That man was such a creep. Why are you walking home alone at night?”

“It’s okay, I do it all the time,” she assures him, but he shakes his head to disagree.

“You shouldn’t. To be honest I used the notebook as an excuse to talk to you but I’m glad I’d showed up before anything bad happened.“

Y/N is rooted to her spot for a brief moment, eyes wide, mouth agape, astounded. She’s not sure what to say after hearing that, being flirted with by a stranger is never her speciality.

“I—um…I’ve got a boyfriend,” she blurts out. The look on his face after that makes her cheeks turn red. “God, I’m sorry, I can’t believe I just assumed you were flirting I—”

“I was.”

“Sorry?”

“I was,” he repeats with a slight chuckle at her cute reaction. “But don’t worry, I respect that. I can’t say I’m not disappointed but it’s fine if you’re taken.”

“Thanks.” Thanks? Y/N’s inner self rolls her eyes, wondering why the hell would she even say something so dumb. “I should get going now.”

“Where do you live? I’ll drive you home.”

Y/N gives the boy a funny look as she reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t offer a stranger a ride! I could be a psychopath!”

“Well.” He shrugs. “What are the chances that we’re both psychopaths?”

“You expect me to get in the same car with you after that?” She squints her eyes at him, smiling a little bit.

As if just waiting for that, the guy takes out his ID from his wallet then hands it to her, trying not to laugh when he sees how surprised she is.

“You can take a photo of my ID and send it to any of your friends, maybe your boyfriend, so if something happens to you I’ll take full responsibility.”

“Wow, okay, I believe you, Ethan.” She reads the information on the card before putting it into the pocket of her jacket. “But…I’m keeping this until I get home safe.”

“Alright miss.” Ethan’s radiant smile is soon to reappear. “Shall we go?”

...

Harry’s whole face lights up when his girlfriend appears on the laptop screen. 

“Hi baby!” he says while rubbing the sleep from his eyes and asks her where she’s been.

“I told you I was studying at the library.” Y/N knows it’s wrong to tell your boyfriend only half of the story when she’s promised to never hide anything from him. But things are different now that he’s not here anymore, she can’t just tell him she was in danger when the guy who had been checking her out in the library came to save her and drove her home! He would freak out then spend the whole day worrying for sure!

“I forgot. Ugh, I’m so forgetful these days.” Harry furrows his eyebrows in frustration and it's upsetting for her to see how stressed he is.

“I know you’ve been working hard but don’t push your limits, H.”

Harry gives her an assuring smile. “I’m fine, baby. No need to worry about me.”

Harry actually loves his job and the fact that he’s learnt a lot in the past week working in the new environment. Everything is just great, well — almost everything.

“Let’s not talk about my job for now. Let’s talk about you.”

“About me?”

“Layla told me you wouldn’t come to her birthday party this weekend. She was so disappointed.” Harry scrunches up his face. “That’s Layla we’re talking about! I’ve been gone for only a week but I feel like I’ve missed a whole lot.”

Y/N giggles. “We’ve spent a lot of time together. She even called me her ‘friend’ by accident the other day! Isn’t it crazy?!”

“So why aren’t you going to her birthday party?”

“You know I get anxious around strangers.”

“But Layla’s gonna be there with you and Niall as well. Maybe you’ll have fun.”

“I just think that—“ Before Y/N can finish her sentence, the laptop shuts down immediately, along with all the electricity devices in Harry’s flat. This is the third time this week his power is cut off, and Harry can’t take it anymore. He decides to come banging on the door of the flat in front of his.

It takes a little while until his neighbor Hana shows up at the door, wearing only her dark blue bathrobe and nothing else underneath, probably just got out of bed. Her black hair is tied up in a bun and she’s got no make-up on but her skin is glowing. She looks radiant for someone who just woke up, in the meantime he probably looks like a walking dead.

“Harry!” 

Hana’s face lights up and Harry’s expression hardens when he snaps back to reality. Then he decides to just go straight to the point. “Why is there a power-cut in my flat?”

“Why are you asking me?" 

“Because your family owns this building or is it another one of your lies?”

“Here we go again...” Hana rolls her eyes, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe as she studies the stern look on his face. “I guess you’re still mad at me.”

“I only get mad at those I care about.”

“Ouch.” She furrows her eyebrows, resting one hand on her hip and watches his face contort. “Not telling the whole truth isn’t the same as lying, Harry.”

“Oh really?” Harry exhales a heavy laugh, which is not at all for humor. “Then why did you tell me you were still in university?”

“I told you I moved back here for university, I never said I was still in university. You just assumed that because I looked younger!”

Harry purses his lips, maybe this one is really his fault, not hers. Still who would’ve thought someone with a face like that could be five years older than him? ‘Asian beauty secrets keep me young,’ he remembers her saying that.

“Okay so you might not have lied about your age!” Harry shrugs, but this isn’t over yet. “However, you did kiss me without my consent, even when you knew you're not only the executive assistant for the firm I’m working for but also my assigned instructor!”

Hana facepalms herself. He had been ignoring her since he found out who she was. She tried to talk to him yet he refused unless it was work-related. So when Harry showed up at her door today, Hana thought it could be a good sign for their relationship, but apparently she was wrong.

“Alright, for the hundredth time,” Hana heaves a sigh as she clasps both hands together in front of her chest. “I apologize. When we kissed I didn’t realize you were that intern from London. Never would’ve done it had I known.”

Hana takes Harry’s silence as a sign to continue.

“And I’m sorry you’re stuck with me. The boss asked me to find you a place to stay, and my family just happened to have an empty flat available.”

“You expect me to say thank you or something?”

“No, I just want us to put this behind and be good neighbors.” She curves her lips into a smile and offers her hand as a friendly gesture. 

Though Harry’s still a bit irritated, he’s now less angry than before. So he decides to give her a chance and shakes her hand to get this over with.

"Now could you just have someone turn the power back on for me?” Harry pleads, but Hana gives him a shrug.

“Sorry it’s been like that for months now. You’re just gonna have to wait an hour or so.”

“Fuck!”

“You’re being grumpy, Harry. You could use that city tour I offered.” She puts a hand on his shoulder but he shrugs it right off. 

“No thank you,” he repeats the exact same thing he told her the last time. “I would like to keep our relationship strictly business.”

“Is your girlfriend back home jealous or something?” 

“Don’t bring my girlfriend into this.”

“So you do have a girlfriend.” Hana slightly chuckles, but Harry keeps a straight face still. “Don’t worry, I’m not flirting with you. Well—“ she suddenly pauses and tilts her head slightly to one side “—from now on.”

Harry wants to ask her what that’s supposed to mean, but before he’s got a chance, Hana shuts the door right in front of his face. 

…

“Y/N!” Layla shouts from the library entrance the moment she spots her friend. She ignores the grumpy librarian telling her to shush and just hurries toward the desk where Y/N’s sitting next to her new friend Ethan.

“Emergency!” She slams her hand down on the table in front of the startled pair, immediately gaining attention from everyone nearby and a warning dead glare from the librarian. Layla mumbles an apology then lowers her voice. “Niall’s coming to my fucking birthday party! So you’re going as well, no matter you like it or not!”

“Layla, I told you, pool parties just aren’t my thing.” Well, any kind of parties...

“I bet you said the same thing about Harry but now you’re fucking him.”

Y/N’s cheeks turn red as she looks down and Ethan just awkwardly rubs the back of his head. That’s when Layla finally notice his presence. 

“Who’s your new friend?”

“This is Ethan, the one I told you about. Ethan, this is Layla.”

“Oh the guy who saved you the other night!” Layla exclaims but Y/N gives her a look as a warning not to go too far with her jokes.

“Sweet Ethan, would you like to come to my party?” Layla bends over the table and rests her elbows on it, her chin on her knuckles, blinking her eyes teasingly at the confused guy. “Maybe Y/N would come if you do.”

Y/N opens her mouth to speak but Layla shuts her up right away. “You told me you didn’t want to be lonely there, so I got you someone, now you have to go.”

“You’re being manipulative, Layla.”

“Thanks.” Layla smirks before turning her attention back to the new boy. “I’ll leave you to think about it, but I’m counting on ya to convince her.”

“Layla—” Y/N sighs but her girl friend ignores that and just walks away from the desk without looking back. After Layla’s out of the library, Y/N turns back to Ethan and gives him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that, she can be a bit...overwhelming sometimes.”

“It’s okay.” Ethan chuckles. “If you want to go, I can go with you.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I—” Y/N leaves her mouth open for two seconds as she tries to think of a better reason to avoid another social event. “I don’t think I’ll fit in. I...I tend to get anxious when I’m surrounded by many people I don’t know.”

“What about Layla?” Ethan raises an eyebrow at the girl whose eyes are on the text book in front of her. “Because she was practically begging for you to show up.”

“Layla—Well...I don’t know...I think she’s only hanging out with me because I help her with something, maybe she doesn’t actually like me.”

“So you’re afraid she’s only using you?”

“No...Uhm...Maybe? I honestly don’t know who to trust anymore, you won’t get it.”

Ethan lets out a slight laugh, then closes the novel in his hand and taps on the cover to get her attention.

“This is you,” he says, making her smile in confusion.

“A book?”

“A closed book!” Ethan raises a finger as he corrects her and Y/N immediately asks what he actually means by saying so. 

“You want people to know your story but you refuse to let them read you, because what if they don’t like you, right? What if they wrinkle the pages and tear the covers? So you stay on the shelf instead, watching other books get borrowed and become best sellers while wishing you were them.”

Y/N just stares at him with widened eyes. She’s not saying anything, not because she thinks he’s talking nonsense, but because the comparison is so spot on that it shocks her more than just a bit.

Ethan presses his lips to form a gentle smile as he continues, “Y/N, you want to make new friends, hang out with people like Layla, at the same time you hold yourself back because you think you’re too boring for anyone to like, which is wrong by the way. You’ve got to believe in yourself, love. How do you know you’re gonna fail if you don’t try?”

For that one second, Y/N swears she sees Harry in Ethan.

“Y/N,” he calls her name and she blinks a couple of times to snap back to reality.

“Yes Ha—uh Ethan?”

“I’ll go with you if you change your mind.” Ethan smiles at her, and she smiles back, before turning her eyes to the book under his palm. 

...

It’s 10PM and Harry’s still at the office, trying to finish proofreading these contracts and planning the executive’s meeting schedules for tomorrow. He’s not sure if it’s anything he said to Hana the last time he was at her door but she’s been a bit harsh on him ever since. She gave him extra tasks and didn’t try to talk to him like she normally would. It’s hard to admit but Harry kind of misses her constantly annoying him.

Ding. The notification on Harry’s phone gets his attention immediately. His girlfriend just sent him a new photo so he doesn’t hesitate to open the text. Harry almost chokes on air when he sees the photo of Y/N wearing a tight spaghetti-strap dress, which is so unlike her, and he doesn’t mean that in a bad way because she’s looking smoking hot. The message that goes with the photo is: Gonna be wearing this to Layla’s birthday :) x

Harry drops everything he’s doing to pick up the phone with both hands and types down a reply immediately: 

Is that a new dress???

No it’s Layla’s, she wanted me to wear it to her party. What do you think?

You look so sexy baby but I demand a photo with the dress off!

I’m on the bus!

I don’t mind getting you off in public ;) 

I hate you!

But I love you and I miss you and I’m horny and I need to touch you aaaaaah! I would fuck you while you’re in that dress, then again when you’re out of it.

A smirk displays on Harry’s face as he rubs his bottom lip with his forefinger, thinking about how red her face must be as she’s typing down a reply then deleting it because she’s embarrassed. She always gets so flushed and shy when he says stuff like that and that’s what turns him on. 

It takes a moment, but finally, her text arrives: 

I wish you were here.

Just by reading that one simple sentence, Harry almost wants to book a plane ticket and fly home with her instantly. He knew what he signed up for when he accepted the internship offer, he just didn’t think a long distance relationship would be this hard. 

Harry came to this foreign country on his own, not knowing anyone nor the language, then got an annoying neighbor who’s also his superior and probably hates him now. His first week in Japan has been wild. Nevertheless, none of those problems come close to the fact that she’s not here. The person he used to be would always manage to have fun no matter where he was or who he was with. The person he is now just can’t stop thinking about this one girl who’s got his whole heart in the palm of her hand. 

I’m getting off the bus now, text you later?

Have a great day baby :) I love you

I love you more :)

Harry reads her last text then tosses his head back and blows air through his mouth in frustration. Fuck. Now he hates everything, well, everything except for her. 

It’s getting late so Harry packs up to leave, the thought of Y/N has never left his mind. He turns the lights off then walks out of the office, assuming he’s the only one here, but apparently not. The lights in the meeting room are still on. 

He stops at the door to find Hana sitting alone by the desk, crying. She looks at him with her eyes all smudged then hastily wipes her tears away.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Harry asks in concern as he enters the room then stands in front of Hana on the other side of the desk.

“I’m fine. Don’t mind me,” replies the older girl while she’s staring at her lap. It seems like she expects him to walk away right after she told him so, which is why Hana is surprised to see him still standing there. 

“You know...” he begins. The corners of his mouth turn up when she finally holds his eye-contact. “I think it’s not too late for that city tour.”

...

Y/N arrives at Layla’s birthday party, with Ethan as her companion. At first she was having doubts about the dress. She thought it was too much and would get people to pay attention to her, which was the opposite of what she wanted. Even so she couldn’t wear something else because she had given Layla her word. 

“Don’t worry, you look great,” Ethan whispers into her ear when they spot Layla and her group drinking by the pool. The birthday girl is more than excited to see Y/N.

“You're here!” To Y/N’s surprise, Layla runs towards her and violently attacks her with a tight hug. 

“Layla, you’re drunk already!”

“A bit, yeah. I need alcohol to do this.” She nods quickly then turns to Ethan. “I can’t thank you enough for dragging her ass to my party!”

“You’re welcome,” he replies with a small smile then tells the girls he’ll go get drinks for Y/N and himself.

“Bye sweetie!” Layla drunkenly waves at Ethan as he walks away, then quickly turns back to Y/N, holding both of her arms, looking utterly frantic.

“I saw Niall but I can’t do it!”

“Yes, you can!” Y/N holds Layla’s face between her palms then looks straight into her green eyes. “You’re going to get your shit together, go find him, then tell him how you feel, just like we’ve discussed!”

“Okay, what if he says no?”

“How do you know you’re gonna fail if you don’t try?” Y/N repeats the same words Ethan said the other day. Layla quickly nods her head then pulls Y/N into another hug, this one lasts longer than the previous one.

“Thank you,” she mumbles before pulling away, holding Y/N’s shoulders firmly. “I’ll be right back, hopefully with good news!”

“Yes! You go girl!” Y/N flashes her a smile then watches the birthday girl flee away.

...

Everything has been going well for Y/N. She’s been laughing and dancing and chatting with Ethan and the others, and for the first time since Harry left she’s actually having a good time. She’s proud of herself, and she’s happy, but it’s been an hour already and Layla hasn’t come back with her good news. Y/N tries to not think too much about it, until she runs into Niall...and his date.

“Hey, Niall!” Y/N smiles at him but her eyebrows are furrowed as she’s confused by the other girl’s presence.

“Oh hey Y/N!” Niall replies cheerfully then grabs the brunette behind him by the hand, slightly pulling her to the front. “This is Harry’s girlfriend Y/N. Y/N, this is my girlfriend—”

Niall tells Y/N the girl’s name but Y/N can’t make out anything else after that word. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when she repeats it one more time in tone of a question. 

“Girlfriend?!”

“Yeah, we just made it official yesterday.”

“Oh God...”

“What is it?”

“No nothing.” YN shakes her head in response to a puzzled Niall then asks him, “does Layla know?”

“Yeah, we ran into Layla, Liam, and Louis a moment ago.”

Y/N groans into the palms of her hands then turns to Ethan, telling him to give her a minute before excusing herself to leave quickly. As she pushes her way through the crowd, Y/N hears Niall calling after her asking what’s going on but she ignores him completely and steals two bottles of wine on her way.

If I was a birthday girl with a broken heart, where would I go? Y/N asks herself, though she’s already got the answer. That’s how she ends up here, in the toilets and finds Layla sobbing in one of the stalls.

“Layla?” Y/N slightly knocks on the door and receives a soft hum as a reply. “Hey, it’s Y/N, let me—”

The door swings open and Layla walks out before Y/N can even finish that sentence. 

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s question comes out almost as a whisper. This is the first time she’s ever seen Layla cry.

“I haven’t told him. He brought her here, they’re dating,” the poor girl breaks the news to Y/N, whose face scrunches up immediately. She can relate to how Layla’s feeling right now in a way, because before her Harry’s been with plenty of other girls. However she guesses this is different, Harry was just fooling around with those girls whereas Niall’s actually in a relationship now.

Y/N sighs then raises the two wine bottles in the air, making Layla turn away from the mirror to look at her with a broken smile. “I don’t normally drink but if you want to get wasted, let’s do it.”

“Harry’s taught you well,” Layla jokes as she accepts one bottle from the girl without hesitation. She’s never said no to alcohol, and right now, she thinks she needs it more than ever.

...

The night ends with Layla dragging Y/N’s body from the lift, all the way to the flat she shares with Harry then to her bed. 

“Be carefully!” Layla shouts, but it’s already too late.

Y/N knocks over the lamp on her nightstand as both of them fall down onto her bed. Layla groans in pain while Y/N is just laughing hysterically for no reason. Layla leaves Y/N lying on her back and sits up on the edge, staring down at her tipsy friend.

“Next time don’t drink more than you can, you idiot,” Layla speaks under her breath but she can’t hide the smile on her face. 

The silence in the room is torn down by Y/N’s ringtone. While Y/N’s groaning and giggling like a madwoman, Layla reaches for the phone and finds the screen light up with Harry’s name on it.

“Your boyfriend’s calling.”

“My boyfriend?!” 

Y/N immediately gets up on her knees on the bed and yanks the phone away from Layla’s hand to answer it herself. Just before she can say hello, Harry’s already the first to speak.

“Y/N, are you home yet? I tried to call you but you had your phone turned off!”

“Baby! Baby! I just drank a lot of wine! A whole lot! Now I’m feeling great!!!” she happily tells him, sitting down with her legs crossed and her free hand holding one foot. 

“Jesus you sound hella drunk. Are you home yet?”

“Yessssssss! Ethan drove me home!”

“Who’s Ethan?”

Layla almost chokes on air and she immediately grabs the phone away from Y/N before the drunk girl says something stupid that’d make Harry explode.

“It’s fine, I came home with her,” she assures Harry, receiving a pout from Y/N whose conversation with her boyfriend was rudely interrupted.

“Layla? You two are at our flat right?”

“Yes, we’re safe, calm your tits Styles.” Layla giggles, yet Harry doesn’t sound like he’s more at ease.

“Who the fuck is Ethan?”

“Oh he’s just Y/N’s new friend.”

“Why hasn’t anyone told me about this new friend?”

“Give me back my Harry!” Y/N attempts to take the phone, so Layla pushes her back down on the bed and stands up to continue the conversation.

“Don’t worry, he’s just a friend. He actually saved your girl a few nights ago.”

“Again, what the fuck?!”

“She was walking home alone and some guy followed her but Ethan showed up just in time. He took her home.” Layla grins. The truth is she finds jealous Harry quite entertaining. If Y/N wasn’t drunk she would’ve stopped her from doing this. However, since Y/N is drunk, Layla cannot pass this opportunity.

“Okay, so my girlfriend was in danger and nobody wanted to tell me?”

“If we’d told you, you would’ve bought a fucking plane ticket and showed up here the next morning. Relax, he’s a nice guy.” Layla almost mentions him flirting with Y/N but then she thinks again and decides not to. Harry would probably fly all the way back just to murder that poor guy.

“I trust Y/N but I don’t trust him. Do you know how easy it is for people to like Y/N once they’ve got to know her?”

“I’m starting to,” says Layla as she gives Y/N a smile and receives one back in return though Y/N has no idea what’s going on.

“Did you get my happy birthday text though?”

“Yes, it’s nice. Thank you.”

There’s a long pause on Harry’s side before he asks Layla another question, “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“Like, why I’m being nice to Y/N?”

“No. I mean...sure, I want to know the reason for that, but I feel like what you actually want to tell me has nothing to do with Y/N.”

“Nope. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Layla sticks out her bottom lip and shrugs as she denies to tell the truth. However, for a second there, she did consider.

“I hope you’re okay.”

Layla stays quiet. She doesn’t want to ask what he means by saying that, at the same time, Harry doesn’t push her to give him a confirmation.

“Could you put me back on the phone with Y/N?” he asks, and Layla does as she’s told, telling Y/N she’ll be right back then leaves the room.

“Baby, ya there?”

“I’m here!” 

Harry sighs happily when he hears his girlfriend’s voice again. 

“Harry come home, I miss you.”

“If I could right now, you know I would. How are you love?”

“Uhm...a bit dizzy...I threw up on the way back. Ethan and Layla helped me from falling down the stairs!”

Ugh fucking Ethan, Harry thinks to himself, but he keeps his calm while speaking to her.

“Baby, does Ethan know about me?”

“Yes, he was flirting with me and—” 

“He was what now?”

“Don’t you worry, I told him I’d got a boyfriend!” Y/N giggles and Harry feels a bit relieved.

“I didn’t tell him you weren’t in London though, he figured it out by himself! He said if I had a boyfriend and still had to walk home alone, my boyfriend were either and asshole or not living near me, and he didn’t think I would’ve dated an asshole so he assumed it was the later!”

Harry sighs, clearly not okay with the thought of another guy looking after his girlfriend because he could not. Moreover, he’s angry, not at Y/N, not at Ethan (well maybe yes at Ethan, for flirting with his girl), but (mostly) at himself for not being there for her. 

“Y/N, are you still there?”

“I’m hereeee!”

“Baby, next time you can’t walk home alone at night, okay? It’s not safe. If you have to, just call Niall or any of my friends to come with you.” Definitely not Ethan for sure. “Just don’t put yourself in danger, I’ll be very worried.”

“Yes sir!”

“Good girl, now I’m going to hang up so you can sleep, yeah?”

“Okaaaaaay...do you love me though?”

“I do,” he answers without pause. “More than anything.”

“I love you this much!” She swings her arms open wide to illustrate the amount of love she has for him. He can imagine her doing so from the other side of the world, and it makes him truly happy.

“I can’t see you but I guess it means you love me a lot?”

“I do love you a lot.” Y/N lays her head down on the pillow, shutting her eyes but the beam stays on her face when her thumb starts rubbing his promise ring. Even though she’s not in her clear mind, she’s still sane when it comes to him.

“Let’s get married someday,” she suggests out of the blue. It doesn’t matter to him if she really means it or it’s just the alcohol talking, just hearing her say that sends him over the fucking moon.

“Of course love, whenever you’d like,” he speaks in a heavy whispery tone which calms her and sends her closer to sleep. “Good night, angel.”

“Good night, baby,” she mumbles before ending the call. 

When Layla returns with a glass of water and some clothes for Y/N to change, she finds her friend already asleep in bed, the phone’s still in her hand.

Meanwhile, in Tokyo, Harry opens his text messages and sends a quick one to his best friend Niall after ending the call with Y/N.

Layla’s safe. She’s with Y/N.

It doesn’t take longer than one second for Niall to reply: Thanks mate x.

Harry sighs after reading that, then tosses his phone aside on the sofa. 

His girl is safe and sound now, but he's burning with anxiety, and it’d be a lie to say this has nothing to do with this new friend of hers named Ethan. Harry's aware that he’s jealous too often but he always has a good reason for it. His guts feelings are never wrong because he knows Y/N’s effects on people. It’s hard to not fall for someone like her if one gets to know her enough. Now it troubles him more knowing they stay friends after Ethan tried flirting with Y/N.

From Harry’s experience, if he approached a hot girl and she told him she was taken he would stay as far away as possible. You can’t just stop being physically attracted to someone just right after you find out they’re not single. One way or another, sooner or later, Ethan is going to make a move. What Harry’s afraid of isn’t Y/N cheating on him, but her leaving him to be with someone she believes can treat her better. These thoughts (or the lack of sleep) make his head hurt.

“Harry?”

Harry turns his head to his bedroom door and sees Hana standing there in his t-shirt which is too big for her delicate frame so it looks like a dress.

“Sleep well?” he asks, yet she ignores his concern.

“Did we—”

“No!” Harry shakes his head quickly. “You showed me around the city then we went to this pub and you got super drunk so I took you back. We couldn’t find your key that’s why I let you stay here.”

“Did you change my clothes?”

“No. I gave you my shirt and then left so you could do it yourself, don’t worry.”

“Okay…” Hana sighs while putting one hand on the top of her head. “And did I overshare anything when I was drunk?”

“Nope, or you did spill all of your secrets but since you were shouting at me in Japanese, I didn’t understand.”

What he said makes Hana giggle and he ends up laughing as well.

“But do you want to talk about why you were crying?”

“No,” Hana answers quickly then turns away to leave. Harry doesn’t try to stop her and beg for the truth because he respects her not wanting to share it with him. However, something makes the girl come back to the door.

“Oh Harry?”

“Hmm?” 

“Thank you for not leaving me alone last night.”

“Oh…” His mouth forms a circle and he’s frozen for a second or two when she sends him a soft smile. “Okay…No problem.”

...

Y/N wakes up the next morning with a terrible headache. Her memory after finishing half a bottle last night is now very blurry. However, she still remembers getting into Ethan’s car with Layla then Layla helping her into bed and part of her phone call with Harry. If her brain isn’t wrong she might have told him about Ethan, she thinks. It’s just she cannot remember his reaction.

It takes Y/N a couple seconds later to realize she’s not alone in bed. Layla’s still asleep next to her. Just like Y/N, the poor girl is still in her party dress from last night, apparently too exhausted to even get changed before dozing off.

Y/N grabs her phone to check the time and happens to see a new message from Harry.

Good morning love! Call me when you wake up! Drink lots of water and don’t skip breakfast! I love you :)

She smiles and hurriedly types down a reply.

Got it :) Love you, hope you’ve had a great day! Can’t wait to tell you about my crazy night with Layla!

She means to put her phone away after pressing ‘send’, but then comes another text, it’s just not from Harry. This time it’s Ethan’s.

Good morning! Does it feel nice to finally get off the shelf? ;)

The message makes Y/N snort. She turns to look at Layla, who’s mumbling in her sleep something that makes no sense at all. Well, Y/N thinks while grinning to herself. Maybe someone does like her story after all.

[ashfountainfanfics]

Roger Clemmings looks exhausted. The bags under his eyes look like they’re packed enough to make a getaway to Mexico. Bill isn’t entirely sure that he shouldn’t steal the idea from them but he wouldn’t get far now that he’s behind bars. It’s a passing thought though. Bill sobers up as Roger runs a thumb across his brow in an attempt to stay awake.

“Mr. Clemmings-”

“I told you, call me Roger, please. I’ve represented celebrities such as yourself many times and it feels phony to be called Mr anything.”

“Roger,” Bill corrects awkwardly, “We’ve gone over this story for hours. I’ve answered every single question you have in triplicate. You need to sleep.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead. I’m sure Satan’s got a suite ready to go.”

“Satan?”

“All lawyers go to hell? It’s a joke, Bill. Jesus. You’d think Richie’s humor would rub off on me but hey, I’m not quitting my day job.”

“Lucky me,” Bill responds through a tight grin.

Roger chuckles a little and Bill isn’t sure if it’s genuine or if the exhaustion is settling in. The longer they sit here the less Bill feels anything is genuine. He’s doing his absolute best not to lie outright. He’s not entirely sure he could sell it. Instead he’s practicing the art of omission. He saw something that looked like an attack maybe by an animal or some creature but he couldn’t stop it.

“The biggest problem we have is why didn’t you report it?”

“I was traumatized,” Bill says flatly and quickly as if trained to respond.

“I’m aware. You’re going to have to find a way to convince a jury of that.”

“Eventually,” Bill sighs.

Bill isn’t completely ignorant about legal proceedings. He did research into writing a realistic crime thriller once but the pacing was too slow for his taste. A case, even a murder case, could take up to two years to get to trial. In the meantime, Bill’s in prison. There isn’t a judge alive that would realistically put out a potential child murderer on bail.

“Eventually my ass,” Roger snorts, “They’ll want to put you away as soon as possible and a small town like this? You best believe they won’t put you on the back burner the way a major city would. Look, not only will I be pushing this case to trial but so will opposing counsel, the parents, law enforcement, hell the town itself will probably be out for blood.”

“What else is new?”

Roger furrows his brow in irritation.

“Okay, that. What is it with that? You and Richie have a hard time in this town or what? I mean, the bully who turned out to be a psychopath I get but you have issues with the entire town?”

Bill doesn’t answer because there’s no point. Of course he has issues with this entire town but Roger isn’t going to understand that. This town was more than happy to sacrifice him and his friends back in the 80's, whether that be to the town bully or grief or their own toxic families. How much had Bill and the other Losers even accomplished by getting rid of It? There were plenty of other monsters waiting in the wings.

The most any of this did was absolve Bill of guilt and stop one of the many predators in this shit hole of a town in Maine. And what good did personal absolution do when he’s sitting here handcuffed to a table?

“Fine,” Roger yawns, “but I’m telling you now that any secrets you keep from me will only hurt your chances.”

Roger gathers up various paper and files into a bag. The man works quickly and the amount of information he’s gathered is staggering though Bill isn’t sure it’s all pertinent. Roger’s efficient and that’s commendable. Bill feels a fleeting urge to share some of the childhood trauma he’s experienced maybe because Roger is so thorough and maybe divulging a few facts wouldn’t hurt. It’s tempting but ultimately Bill says nothing.

“I’ve got a contact that’s working with me on your case. I’ll give him a call, see if he’s still up. Maybe we can finagle an argument for bail. I don’t know.”

Bill feels nervous at the sight of Roger leaving even though he just moments ago told him to get some sleep. Once the lawyer leaves it’s any guessing what will happen to Bill. Sure, he’s in the pokey for now but what if they formally charge him? What if he’s moved to a real prison before morning?

A couple of days ago, my biggest worry was the shitty ending to my shitty movie. How’s this for an ending? Bill slumps back into his uncomfortable metal chair.

It comes back to Bill almost like a punch to the gut. His movie...which stars his wife. He’s got a job and a marriage waiting for him and no one knows the trouble he’s gotten into yet. Not that there hadn’t been opportunities to share this information. His voicemail is full of calls from Audrey and the producers and the director. The movie falling apart isn’t such a big deal to Bill but not once did Bill give Audrey even the slightest clue what he was up to. He just got on a plane and left.

“I’ll let Richie know how things are going if that’s okay, to a point of course, he doesn’t need a full run down. Anything you need from me on the outside?”

Bill nods as his mind searches for Audrey’s phone number.

___

Bev isn’t surprised to find herself at Richie’s door again. She still hesitates to knock given that it’s after ten but then again Richie doesn’t strike her as the type to curl up into bed before two in the morning. When Richie answers it’s clear she’s right. He has a drink in his hand and a cell phone tucked between his shoulder and ear.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Bev whispers, “I can come back later or-”

Richie shakes his head and waves her in. She stands there awkwardly as Richie closes the door with his butt and continues his phone call.

“Tell them I had a death in the family or some shit. I don’t care. I need time off.”

Richie walks towards his bourbon bottle and gestures a glass toward Bev. She quietly replies with a no thank you and Richie doubles down on his glass instead.

“For the last time, I am not on a bender. Fuck. A guy takes ecstasy on accident once and-”

Bev tries to stifle her confused expression but doesn’t manage. Richie tries to assure her by mouthing that it’s ‘no biggie’ before taking a big gulp of his drink. It occurs to Bev that she doesn’t know much about Richie and who he is now. Or any of the other Losers for that matter. Seeing Richie drown himself in cheap liquor doesn’t feel very promising. Richie looks manic too, sweat deflating his hair, and he won't sit down. 

Bev quietly crosses the room and takes the bourbon bottle away from Richie. He barely registers this and instead continues to pace the floor, his drink dangerously flirting with the rim of the glass as he moves.

“I promise, I will never cause trouble like this again. I swear. And I will come back. But I have to stay here for a while and I don’t know how long that is. I’m sorry.”

Richie hangs up and leaves the phone on the end table. He runs his fingers through his messy hair and Bev puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Just career stuff. It’s fine. It’s not worth talking about but,” Richie rouses a smile, “I think we should talk about you coming around to my room again. If you’ve got a crush on me I’ve got some bad news, Bev.”

Bev smiles back before taking Richie by the hand and sitting with him on the bed again. It’s a comfortable spot for them now as it seems even Richie calms down upon taking a seat. Bev gives Richie’s fingers a soft squeeze.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks, “It’s going to sound a little stupid but-”

“I swear to God whatever it is it isn’t as stupid as what I did today so- ah, fuck me, nevermind. You first.”

“What did you do?” Bev asks, her interests piqued.

“No deal. You first and then I will give you my exclusive.”

Bev considers this for a moment and decides it may not be bad to allow precedence for herself. She lets go of Richie’s hand and brings her knees to her chest. She suddenly feels like a teenager again both a little ashamed and wildly excited to share her news.

“I slept with Ben,” she says quickly.

Richie hoops and hollers at this. His wolf whistle is impeccable and Bev can’t hide her grin as she shushes him.

“It’s complicated!” she argues as Richie settles.

“Why? Even if I was straight enough to shit football jerseys I’d still say he’s hot.”

“This isn’t about how Ben looks. It’s about Ben being… Ben,” Bev changes the mood by how quiet the end of her sentence becomes.

Richie puts his humor aside and Bev retracts her emotions as quickly as she displayed them. She sits properly and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. The idea of looking openly wounded feels physically painful, even in front of Richie and especially when he’s taking her so seriously.

“I’m still married,” she covers, “But I really do like Ben... I think. We haven’t seen each other in almost thirty years so I don’t really know-”

“Bull shit,” Richie lays back on the bed with a heavy sigh.

“Excuse me?” Bev sounds a bit offended.

“I mean it’s convenient bull shit but it is what it is. I tried to tell myself the same thing about Eddie; how could I possibly have feelings for him when I haven’t seen him in almost three fucking decades? But goddamn, he’s still the same pocket sized little weirdo and I love him.”

“Richie,” she interrupts awkwardly, “I don’t know that I love Ben. It’s not really the same thing.”

Richie turns a light shade of embarrassment across his cheeks. It’s hard to tell underneath those thick frames of his but Bev catches it before Richie throws his forearm over his face.

“Don’t mind me. I’m just a selfish prick. I’ll shut up.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

It’s makes Bev smile to hear Richie chuckle at that. She then decides to follow suit and lies down next to him. The ceiling in his room is covered in aging paint and little grooves.

“So, how do you feel about ol haystack Ben?”

“I don’t know.”

That’s the truth on a larger scale. As to why Bev doesn’t know is more complicated. At some point she’ll have to talk to someone about her soon to be ex husband. The idea of opening that can of worms makes her stomach lurch but it’s a reality she’s doomed to face. It’s not as if she can just put Tom in a box and ride off into the sunset right? It can’t be that easy but then that doesn’t mean Bev can’t try to make it that easy.

“Ben isn’t the kind of guy I’m used to,” she safely skirts the real issue, “and to be honest, I still have some feelings…”

“Well, I don’t know how long you were married to whatever the fuck his name is but you said you were happy when you came to town and yesterday you made your divorce sound overdue. Must be a Six Flag’s level emotional roller coaster you’re on.”

Richie assumed Bev meant Tom. She didn’t.

“His name is Tom. And those leftover feelings aren’t for him. Fuck Tom.”

“Then who..?”

There’s a beat of silence as Richie puts things together. Bev feels ridiculously embarrassed by the fact that he can make the right assumption. At the same time though, it spared her from having to say it herself.

“Bill?” he asks and Bev can feel his eyes on her, “Does he know? Does Ben?”

“Bill and I kissed. Before we headed to the cistern. So I think Bill knows,” she responds flatly.

“Beverly, you saucy minx,” Richie makes an attempt at levity before immediately regretting it, “Sorry. I’m an idiot. Ignore that.”

It’s too late though and Bev feels her defenses cracking. Richie wasn’t trying to insult her but the joke still hits too close to home. Somewhere in the back of her mind Tom’s voice steadily grows stronger. Her father’s voice joins him. What kind of married woman kisses one man and sleeps with another? What kind of whore plays the field? What bitch throws herself at a married man?

Bev sits up and pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her bathrobe. She lights up and starts to drain the cigarette on her lips as fast as possible, thinking only of lighting the next then the next.

“Bev?” Richie sits up with her, “This isn’t the 50’s. You can’t smoke in here.”

She ignores him and sucks down nicotine spitefully. Her hands start to steady and the ghosts of her past begin to silence.

“Are you okay?” Richie asks cautiously, “I’m starting to sense that maybe there’s more than a love triangle going on here.”

That shocks her nerves all over again.

Bev debates taking the stump of what’s left on her cancer stick and shoving it into her thigh. She hasn’t done that since high school but she remembers the feeling and her skin has kept track with little round scars. Back then she didn’t know why she would suddenly feel so angry and small but it makes sense now. Bev always knew her dad was bad but now she remembers just how bad and all that pain makes more sense.

The fact that she married Tom, a carbon copy of her father, makes her skin crawl and she’s not sure there’s enough nicotine in the world to make her forget that he’d touched her.

Bev puts the cigarette out on the carpet grinding it out with the toe of her slipper. She then immediately goes to light a second.

“Hey, stop! Stop!” Richie implores her and grabs her by the wrist to keep her from lighting up.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Bev recoils out of instinct and is now standing, holding her wrist to her chest.

The pack of cigarettes are splayed out on the floor and the lighter lays abandoned on the bed. Richie looks equally abandoned as he stares at Bev. It makes her feel like a freak. The wounded sneer that she’d made dissipates into something almost apologetic.

“I should go,” Bev says quietly.

“Bev… where’d those bruises come from?”

Bev is mortified as she realizes how on display the green and yellow prints are. It’s clearly in the pattern of a hand wrapped around her wrist. It’s Tom’s fingers still pressed into her skin. She quickly drops her arm and lets the sleeve of her robe follow.

“Bev, is Tom… did he-“

Beverly ignores Richie’s attempt to make verbal the very thing she wants to keep secret. She drops to her knees and scrambles to recollect her cigarettes. She throws them into her pocket and makes way for the door.

“Wait! Hold on! Just wait!”

Richie tries desperately to follow her. She knows it’s not his fault. She knows he wants to help but she can’t stand the thought of him knowing any more than he already does. What he’s already pieced together is more than she wanted to give. She had come here to talk about Ben and ultimately gave herself and her fucked up marriage away.

Beverly holds the door closed. She grips the knob with everything she’s got even as Richie tries to open it. He helplessly bangs on the door.

“Bev? C’mon Bev! I’m sorry!”

He stops eventually and Beverly lets go of the handle. Quietly she returns to her room and locks the safety latch. The loneliness of her suite overwhelms her. Her tears are hot, burning and shameful. Her throat makes noises like a hurt animal. Bev’s never felt more ugly in her life.

—-

“Are you sure alcohol is a good idea?” Mike asks Eddie, “since y’know, you’ve got a hole in your cheek?”

“If I can make out with Richie I think can handle a beer.”

“...what?”

Mike doesn’t get an answer though as the bartender comes around with his drink. It’s an old fashioned. The rind on his orange spice looks a bit spotty but he doesn’t say anything. It’s a dive bar after all.

Mike goes to take a sip and Eddie suddenly comes back to life.

“You know I went on a date with him today? Dinner. I went to dinner with fucking Richie Tozier. I don’t know what I was expecting after making out in a closet-“

“Wait a minute-“ Mike tries to interject but Eddie’s rant keeps going.

“I mean I felt something then but this dinner? This excuse for a date was so awkward and quiet. Quiet, Mike. Do you know how weird it is to sit with Richie and he doesn’t say anything? At all?”

“Eddie!” Mike borders on shouting and some of the regulars eye him for it.

“What?” Eddie asks blankly.

Mike carefully assesses the room. It looks like a handful of factory workers and a retired old guy. All of them are sporting stubble, sweat and trucker hats. They’re either hypnotized by the football game playing on the big screen or the pool table. It’s not the worst scenario but it’s not ideal. If it had been a bit earlier in the day they’d be amongst the swinger crowd and this conversation could be louder but they’re not.

“If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about then you’re going to need to lower your voice. A lot. And follow up question; are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?” Mike says in a hushed tone.

Eddie looks a little lost.

“What do you mean?”

Mike tries not to roll his eyes because he’s pretty sure Eddie isn’t purposefully being clueless. The guy just really likes to talk in a long, ridiculous stream and when he’s cut off it’s like someone ripped the rug right out from under him.

“You and Richie,” Mike says even quieter, “you two are- uh”

Mike feels inclined to make a gesture here instead of saying anything concrete but what gesture to make is beyond him. Instead he helplessly looks at Eddie hoping he’ll fill in the blanks without saying anything out loud.

“Oh!” Eddie’s eyes light up, “yes! I mean no. I don’t know? As it turns out my entire life is a lie so I could be or I may not be. Isn’t this shit supposed to be fluid? I thought I read somewhere that it’s all a spectrum.”

Mike is flabbergasted into silence and it allows Eddie to continue his mile a minute rant. He mentions something about generational differences and a Ted Talk. All of it makes Mike’s head spin. By the time Eddie goes to catch his breath Mike’s old fashioned is gone.

“Eddie,” Mike takes his chance quickly, “I think I’m more shocked at the you and Richie part. Maybe not so much the other…thing.”

“Are you trying to say that me being gay doesn’t surprise you?”

Mike hushes him and makes the effort to subtly point at the burly men sitting within earshot. Eddie is not nearly as subtle as he whips around entirely and stares at them.

“Mike, I have literally speared a demonic spider clown in the fucking chest and given my dying mother a sponge bath. A group of glorified lumberjacks does not scare me.”

If Mike had any drink left he’d have choked on it from that comment. Instead he awkwardly clears his throat. The other men in the bar haven’t noticed Eddie yet and that’s for the best. Maybe Mike is being a bit overly cautious.

“The scariest thing, and I am aware of how stupid this sounds, is that I have no idea who I am anymore. And it’s not just maybe possibly being interested in Richie. It’s my whole life, Mike. I am in a mid life fucking crisis. Oh my God. I thought I was too sensible to have a midlife crisis. Oh God am I going to have to get a sports car? They’re death traps!”

Mike calls to the bartender by name. She’s not wearing a name tag but Mike knows she goes by Mary. Her full name is Marilyn and she’s twenty eight but looks thirty five. She’s still attractive but having a teen pregnancy aged her. Her son is...Adam? Mike is sure it starts with an A. It’s weird how many stories are burned in Mike’s brain and yet he’s featured in none of them.

Mike politely asks Mary if she’ll get down the half empty bottle of tequila from the shelf. She raises an eyebrow at the suggestion but Mike reassures her that he’ll make sure the little guy gets home safe. That’s enough for Mary and she leaves the men with a couple of shot glasses.

“That doesn’t seem safe. Or legal,” Eddie comments as Mike pours them both a shot.

“Mary knows me enough. I don’t drive home. And sure it’s not legal but a small town means a lot of under the table favors.”

Eddie nods as his fingers wrap around the small, slightly overfilled glass. He and Mike clink glasses and throw them back. Eddie coughs a bit as he resurfaces and Mike winces at the burn.

“You’re not sure about yourself,” Mike comments, “I feel that.”

Mike is already pouring the next shot but Eddie hesitates. He’s quiet now and Mike supposes it’s because he’s listening.

“I remembered everything that happened that summer. I never left Derry so the memories never left. I built my entire world around being ready for It.

Everyone moved away so quickly after the first time. It was like destiny. You were the second to last one. Do you remember that?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“Bev went first but that was expected after what happened with her dad. Bill left next. I guess the trip him and his parents took helped them sort their troubles. Ben was never meant to stay more than a year once his dad got restationed. Richie’s dad got a job offer a state over that made twice his current salary. And then it was you and me and Stan. Mostly you and me.”

Eddie concentrates trying to rouse a memory but to no avail. Mike sees the sheepish resignation in his eyes as he gives in and takes another shot.

“It’s okay,” Mike reassures him, “It's not like you all left on purpose. And you didn’t forget out of negligence. It just is.

We all promised to stay in touch but once someone left they never called to leave a new number. It happened with Bev first of course and at first Richie thought it was because she didn’t care anymore. Ben knew better though. He piped up that Bev would never abandon us. So when Bill swore to call and that if he didn’t then it meant something had happened, we knew.

Now we had no idea of knowing exactly what happened when someone left Derry until Ben came up with the idea of getting just far enough from Derry to see if anything happened. We argued for days over the dangers of it. We thought maybe we all died if we left Derry, how were we to know?

So one night I snuck out from the farm and walked. For hours. That was the first time I came across the tribe. I won’t bore you with the details but the short of it is that I learned from them. They kept themselves far enough to not get hurt but close enough to remember. If I had gone any farther out I may have forgotten everything.”

Mike takes his second shot now. The burn is softer this time. He takes the opportunity to check over Eddie. He’s still quiet and calm. It’s like he’s absorbing all this information but what it’s going toward Mike isn’t sure. One of the factory workers hollers in excitement. Mary subtly pushes the bucket of peanuts at the bar closer to Eddie but he doesn’t notice. Mike feels it’s safe to continue.

“Everyone left knew they’d forget once they got out of Derry but it wasn’t anyone’s choice to stay or go. It was life. Except Stan. He was the last to leave because it took him so long to find a way out. He and I would have gone to high school together but he found a program for early college credit out where his aunt and uncle lived. Not that it mattered. Once Ben got the news he was out Stan stopped making a show of sticking around. He wanted to forget. I was surprised he’d even told me goodbye.”

Mike loads up a third shot for himself and Eddie takes his second. Once the glass is empty Mike fills it again. The alcohol keeps him weighted and that’s good. With how empty sharing is making him feel it’s nice to have something to keep him from floating away.

“For a while it was you and me and Richie really. Although it was hard to maintain much of a presence between the two of you. You were always arguing. Like a-“

Mike laughs because he suddenly gets it. Richie always teased people but he teased Eddie more. Eddie always took the bait. There was the more subtle stuff too like if one of them said they liked or didn’t like something the other would adjust accordingly. It was an effort to impress each other. Be more likable. Not that either would admit it.

“You two fought like a married couple,” Mike finishes the sentiment, “I guess I never really thought about as you two being, well you know. I thought I blended into the background because maybe we weren’t really good friends but I guess I was just a third wheel.”

Mike chuckles again.

“I probably could have spared myself the savior complex if I’d known that.”

Eddie’s been flirting with the shot glass but he stops now. He doesn’t drink it but he does turn fully toward Mike. His eyes look serious maybe even calculating and it’s surprises Mike.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks.

Mike stares at the bottle between them finding it less heavy than Eddie’s gaze. The tequila is hitting him now, making his body lighter and the low bar lights fuzzy.

“I guess I figured that saving Derry was the only way I could stay important. Like if I didn’t stay behind and gather everyone when the time came, if I didn’t find answers, then I never really mattered. I think maybe Stan and I both felt like that, like we were the background characters of the Loser’s Club.

We didn’t really know at the time but there was that love triangle with Ben and Bev and Bill and then the tension with you and Richie. I just wanted my friends. I wanted to matter.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t get married or have a family. Not just because of It. I think maybe I was waiting for you all to come home… so I could know that you cared. That maybe y’all loved each other and loved me enough to come home.”

Mike nearly falls off the bar stool as Eddie throws his arms around him. He doesn’t say anything but holds him tight. Mike doesn’t care anymore about the potentially dangerous guys around them or the tequila sitting in front of him. He leans into the embrace Eddie gives. Eddie pats him reassuringly on the back.

“I love you, Mike,” Eddie says into Mike’s shoulder, “all of us love you. I’m sorry we were too involved in other shit to let you know that.”

If ending It wasn’t enough to give Mike peace this was enough and how funny that it comes from Eddie? Little, wheezy but long winded Eddie.

“Also can we go now?” Eddie asks still mid hug, “I feel like my center of gravity just told me to fuck off.”