#and i think i didn’t ice my knee often enough to bring down the swelling in the early stages and that’s why i still get inflammation

[fingertipsmp3]

I was really sitting here like “2023 is the best year I’ve had in a long time in terms of ‘not trying to kill me’, I haven’t gotten sick once” and then I remembered the fucking catastrophic knee dislocation that’s had me limping since May

[thebookreader12345]

Stop the Violence

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Best Friend! reader

Summary: Y/N has been hiding her abusive past for all her life, and somehow, she’s managed to keep it a secret from Intelligence, and her best friend, Jay Halstead, this long. However, when someone sees something they shouldn’t have, Y/N’s world changes, and the only way she can get through it is with Jay at her side

Requested: Yes, by @virtualreader​

Warnings: abusive relationship, talk and depiction of a beating, alcohol abuse

Word Count: 1,764 Words

I tugged my sleeves down for the umpteenth time this morning, hoping that they would stay in their current position, but I knew they wouldn’t. I should’ve just worn a hoodie, but alas, all of mine were dirty, and since I didn’t feel like doing laundry last night, I was stuck with this long sleeved shirt whose sleeves never stayed all the way down my arms, and always found a way to ride up.

“You okay over there?” Jay questioned from where he was seated at his desk across the room.

“I’m fine,” I reply. “It’s just that these stupid sleeves won’t stay down.”

“Just role them up,” Jay proposed. “It’s warm in here.”

“It’s cool,” I insist. “I’ll just deal with it.” Jay hesitated, as if he wanted to say something, but ended up not talking and went back to doing his paperwork. That’s when Kevin and Adam entered the bullpen side by side, both with a cup of coffee in their hands. “Hey, guys. Either of you know when Voight’s gonna be in?”

“Uh, no,” Adam responded. “Why?”

“I need to run a quick errand. Cover for me?” I ask Jay.

Jay nodded. “Sure. Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to run an errand for my dad. I’ll be back soon,” I say quickly and stuff my phone into my pocket before heading for the stairs. 

My dad and I have never really been close. I was always closer to my mom, but when I was 16, she passed away from heart failure, leaving my dad to raise me all by himself. That’s when the problems began. My dad started drinking more often, coming home drunk after work. During these times, he would become somewhat aggressive. It was just little things though, like grabbing my arm a bit too rough. I waved it off at first because he was grieving over the love of his life, and I was sure he’d get over it in a few months. Except it never stopped. The drinking continued, not just after work at bars, but at the house too. And the violence didn’t stop either. In fact, it just got worse. Grabbing turned into smacking, and then punching. I thought that when I moved out, things would be different. I wanted to stop going by his house to say hello, but he was the only close family I had left, so I continued stopping by and running errands for him. The abuse didn’t happen as often as before, but when it did, I had to figure out how to hide the bruises, hence me wearing long sleeves and a lot of makeup. It was hard keeping this from the rest of the unit, especially Jay, who was my best friend, but I didn’t want them to think differently of me when they heard about my family life.

The reason for my errand was that my dad wanted a few things from the grocery store, and since he was apparently busy, he asked if I could pick those things up. I didn’t want to because I had work, but because Voight wasn’t in yet, I figured I’d just do it now to stop my dad from bothering me for the rest of the day. So, I left the district and drove to the grocery store, hoping that I could get this done as quick as possible. It didn’t take me long to grab everything my dad needed, including beer. I could’ve just not bought it, but that would make him angry, and I didn’t want to face that at the moment. After loading everything into my car, I made the short drive to my dad’s house.

“Dad! I’m here!” I call out into the house as I stepped inside. To the right was the living room, and behind that was the kitchen. My dad was sitting in the living room on his recliner with the TV on, not doing a single thing, which made me mad because I left work for him, but I pushed those thoughts aside and made my way into the kitchen to set the groceries down.

“What kind of beer did you get?” my dad asked as I headed back into the living room.

“Uh, Budweiser,” I answer.

“I asked for Corona,” my dad spoke.

“Yeah, I know, but I had to be quick cause I have to get back to work, so I just grabbed the first thing I saw,” I explain and fish my keys out of my pocket.

My dad growled and stood up. “So your work is more important than your own father?”

“At the moment, yeah,” I reply. Right after I said that, I immediately regretted it. I could see my father’s face change, and before I could even move, my dad stepped forward and punched me in the face, catching me square in the eye. I cried out in pain and fell to the floor, clutching the side of my face, which was now throbbing. “Dad, please stop,” I beg. But he didn’t stop there and took another step towards me, this time sending a kick straight to my ribs. Pain exploded in my side where the tip of his boot had come in contact with me, but I couldn’t do anything about it. Just before my dad could kick me again, the door to the house was kicked open, and seconds later, Jay and Hailey appeared.

“Hey! Step away from her,” Jay ordered with his gun raised. My father glanced between me and the cops, and decided it was better not to go against their orders, so he took a step back. Hailey didn’t waste any time and handcuffed my father’s hands behind his back, telling him his rights as she led him out to the car.

“J-Jay? What are you doing here?” I croak out and sit up, which sent more pain throughout my body.

“Hailey and I came down to see what was taking you so long, and to tell you that we’ve got no new cases, so Voight gave us the day off. I uh, I saw everything through the window,” Jay mumbled and gestured towards the big glass pane in the wall behind us. “I’m gonna take you to the hospital, okay?”

I shook my head. “N-no. I just want to go home.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen. I’ll bring you back to my place, and then I’ll call Will over to check you over,” Jay said and held out a hand to help me up. I took his hand, allowing him to pull me up, but pain racked my body. “All right. Lets go.” While Hailey used Jay’s truck to get my father back to the district, Jay drove my car back to his apartment. A few minutes after we got there, Will arrived to see if any of my injuries were severe enough to where I would need professional care.

“Your orbital bone isn’t broken, just bruised,” Will informed me as he examined my eye. “Jay also said something about your side.” I nodded and lifted up my shirt so that Will could get a look at my side. A reddish purple bruise had already began to form, and based on it’s size and deep color, I knew it would be there for awhile. Will pressed on the bruise, and I winced in pain, immediately tensing away from his hand. “Sorry. Uh, your ribs don’t look broken either. But you should be careful the next few days so you don’t hurt yourself any more. You should also ice your side and your eye. That’ll help the swelling go down.”

“Thanks, Will,” Jay told his brother, who left seconds later, leaving Jay and I alone in the apartment. I took a seat on the couch, my back resting against the arm rest, and Jay sat down on the opposite side, moving his body so it mirrored mine. For a few moments, we sat in silence, but finally, Jay spoke up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I sighed. “What was I going to say, Jay? ‘Oh, hey, just to let you know, I’ve got an abusive father who beats me over the stupidest things?’”

“You could’ve at least talked to Hailey,” Jay put in.

“I know,” I state. “But what kind of friend would I be if I made her relive her own terrible memories?” Again, we were silent for a few seconds, and again, Jay broke that silence.

“How long has this been going on?” Jay questioned.

“Since I was 16,” I reply softly, tears beginning to gather in my eyes. “He wasn’t always like this, but after my mom died, he changed. The beatings, they didn’t start until I was in college, but I think that made them worse.” I took a deep breath and wiped at my eyes, cleaning the tears off of my face. “I-I should’ve said something, should’ve done something. I mean, I’m a cop. I should’ve been able to defend myself, but I just let the beatings happen. I let him hit me.”

“Hey,” Jay murmured and got up from his seat. From there he moved to the seat next to me and placed a comforting hand on my knee. “Don’t blame what he did on you. This isn’t your fault. It was never your fault.”

I sniffled and wiped more tears from my face. “I know, but it’s hard not to think that it is. If anything, I should’ve gone to the unit, or at least talked to you.”

“You’re talking to me now, and that’s all that matters,” Jay confessed and gave me a small smile.

“So, what’s gonna happen to my dad?” I ask.

“He’s uh, he’s going to get jail time. He got charged with assault down at the 21st. It looks like it’ll only be a year or two for him in prison, but I am going to make sure he’s never able to hurt you again. That’s a promise I intend on keeping,” Jay admitted. I smiled and sat up, pushing my legs to the side so that I could lean forward and hug Jay. He squeezed me back tightly, and being in the arms of my best friend gave me the comfort I really needed right now.

“Thank you,” I whisper into his chest. “For everything.”

“You’re my best friend, Y/N. I’d do anything for you. Now, I say we order some takeout and have a movie night. What do you think?” Jay quizzed.

“I think that sounds like a great idea. Lets do it,” I say.

____________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @dreamingmanip @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @nevertoofarfromivar @anotherfan07 @giagma @mrspeacem1nusone @i-like-sparkly-things

[25centsoda]

Star Wars Fanfic - Wisdom Teeth

I just got my wisdom teeth out the other day...you know what that means! Luke too!

I just wrote this in one sitting and there is very minimal editing. If I ever feel like cleaning this up I’ll throw it on AO3 (and possibly make it longer, possibly leave it as-is).

.

.

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The world filtered up slowly, rising from the smoke of dreams. The first thing Luke was aware of was that there was a blanket on his chest. It was warm, and soft. The room faded into view.

His tired mind dimly registered the fact that the blanket was blue, and the walls were off-white. The lights confused him. They shone blindingly, obscuring much of the space. Between the two of them, the only other thing he could make out were the empty chairs beside him.

Luke drifted.

The world was quiet, as if buried beneath sand. There might have been a memory of being supported on each side as he was led down a hallway, but that could have easily been a dream; the memory was shadowy and indistinct.

He moved his hand slightly. Yes, the blanket was soft.

Words filtered into his consciousness. Murmurs, far away and nonsensical. He couldn’t summon the will or strength to focus on them.

Through the Force, a spike of emotion.

It was quickly washed away by his exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes fluttered closed. His mouth hung open slightly. Something held it open. What was it? Why was it there? 

He forced his eyes open again and squinted at the room, trying to bring it into focus.

Medbay, his mind finally supplied. Now he could tell that he was seeing double. Closing one eye or the other turned the two chairs into one. He entertained himself with looking at each part of the curtained-off room in turn. The small table on his other side. The curtain rod. His own covered legs.

A commotion outside in the hall filtered into his awareness. Luke made a small questioning noise he wasn’t sure even left his throat and turned his head slightly towards the sound.

It sounded almost like...blaster shots?

Behind the curtain, a door hissed open. Cold followed like a shadow. Luke closed his eyes against the chill, grateful for the blanket. Loud, rhythmic breathing grated against his ears. He peered up through his eyelashes.

Vader.

Father.

Was this another dream? Luke’s eyes melted closed again.

He was on the verge of falling asleep once more when the sound of flimsy being shifted pulled him back towards consciousness again. He was almost tempted to wave the sound away, annoyed, but his limbs felt like lead. It wasn’t worth the effort. Amusement washed gently over him in the Force.

The flimsy was folded and shifted against something, then the noise stopped. Something carefully stroked his hand through the blanket.

“Come, young one. It is time to go home.”

Luke managed something between a hum and a groan. That amusement came again, along with an undercurrent of love. He peeled open his eyes and squinted up at his father’s insectoid mask.

Vader helped him sit up while Luke stared at him. His mind spun slowly. His father couldn’t really be here, right? The last thing he remembered...the last thing he remembered…

That shadowy image of being helped across a hallway resurfaced. He pushed it away. Before that, there was…

The surgery!

The Empire had been quiet for long enough that the Alliance decided to take the opportunity to get its soldiers and staff medical care while they could afford both the time and expense. Luke had been brought in to get several teeth removed that had grown in sideways. Leia was supposed to be with him when he woke up.

Where was she?

Luke was pulled to his feet and he stumbled, knees weak beneath him. His head rocked with vertigo. Without thinking, he clung to the arm supporting him.

Where was Leia? She was supposed to be here…

He barely noticed the hallways passing under his feet, focus taken up by the effort of staying upright and trying to figure out where Leia could be.

Maybe...maybe he was hallucinating, and what he thought was his father was actually just Leia.

Luke made a noise that was meant to be “Leia?” but all that came out was nonsense. He furrowed his brow when he realized he couldn’t feel his tongue. Or most of his mouth, really.

The person leading him didn’t respond.

Something was wrong.

“Nng,” he managed, tugging his arm away from their grip. They held on tighter as he stumbled, keeping him upright.

“Hush, young one. You’re safe.” A feeling of security washed through him with those words, overpowering the panic that had begun to rise through the fog of sedation. He leaned on their arm for support. “There. We’re nearly to my ship, then you can rest some more.”

Their boots clanged on a ramp. Luke’s socked feet didn’t make a sound.

The next thing he knew, he was being buckled into a seat. In front of him, a viewport showed the mountains of the planet the Rebels had made their latest base on.

The ship vibrated as it took off, and Luke fell back asleep.

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

Vader marveled at the boy sleeping next to him. At long last; his son. He had been most fortunate in finding the boy and his rebellion in such a state. It had been laughably easy to invade the base and take Luke. The Rebels had grown complacent.

As he piloted the shuttle back to the Executor, he puzzled over the sheet of flimsy that had been tied to the end of his son’s medical bed. “Wisdom tooth extraction”, it had read, along with instructions for care once the boy was released from the medbay.

Vader had heard of such a thing - Obi-Wan had told Anakin Skywalker of his own experience with the procedure, but Skywalker never had a need for it. Evidently Vader’s son did. Incompetent as they were, the Rebellion did not waste money and soldiers on unnecessary medical procedures.

Glancing at Luke again, Vader wondered if perhaps he should have paid closer attention to the sheet before leaving with his son. The boy may need supplies the Executor did not have; the surgery was most often performed on humans younger than the majority of his officers, and Star Destroyers were not equipped for most non-injurious surgeries.

No matter. If anything needed to be acquired, he would get it.

First, he had to get his son to the rooms he had prepared.

Although they would evidently need slight modifications as the boy was recovering from surgery…

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

When Luke woke again, he was once more covered in a blanket. This time, however, he was also propped up by many pillows on all sides, and there were ice packs on both cheeks.

Where was he?

At his confused hum, his father reappeared beside him. Luke’s eyes widened.

Oh. So it hadn’t been a hallucination, then. His father actually...just kidnapped him out of the medbay.

Kriff.

“Father,” he tried, but he still couldn’t feel his mouth. He huffed in frustration, then winced when doing so pulled at his sore jaw. He mimed writing on his hand, looking at his father through narrowed eyes and hoping that conveyed his frustration.

Vader handed him a datapad and pen.

Luke held the pen above the datapad for a minute, trying to decide what to say. He eventually settled on, What did you do?

“You had a surgery, young one,” Vader said. Before he could finish, Luke started writing again. “I did nothing to you.”

I know I had surgery. Where did you take me? What about the base?

“You are on my flagship, the Executor. The Rebel base was taken by the Empire, although I believe the Princess and Wookie escaped, if you are worried about them.”

No dark side.

Vader inclined his head. “You are in no state to begin your training, I agree. However, there are other things you should be aware of in the meantime. For example, the sheet your medic left indicates that the gauze in your mouth should be changed every 30 minutes, the ice should remain as much as possible without causing damage, and you are not to have solid foods for the next several days.”

Luke looked up at the ceiling in lieu of throwing his head back. Kriff. He thought it would be bad to go through this back on base with his friends; to do it stuck with the Empire? With his father? The man had chopped off his hand during their last meeting; Luke had since come to terms with both the news and the prosthetic, but that didn’t mean he trusted his father with his health.

He cleared the screen and wrote again. I want to see a medic.

“They will not tell you anything different, Luke.”

He underlined the sentence and gave his father a pointed look with as much vitriol as he could muster.

Vader sighed, an odd, staticky sound. “Very well. I will call for him.”

Luke watched with interest as his father picked up a slim remote from a small table next to the bed Luke was propped up in, and pressed a button. A small buzz sounded. Moments later, the door hissed open and a man in a medic’s uniform stepped through, clipboard in hand. He bowed, and approached.

“Commander Skywalker, Medic Kix at your service,” the man said. “What can I do for you?”

Luke reset the screen and wrote, then held up the datapad.

What will my recovery look like? How long will it take?

Kix nodded and said, “This first day, there’s going to be a lot of blood. It should clot by the end of today and over the next few days there should be some swelling. The ice will help keep that down. You’ll need to change the gauze every thirty minutes to help the blood clot and keep you from swallowing too much of it. Take it easy for the next few days; no strenuous exercise. Liquid foods only for today, then tomorrow you can start moving on to soft foods like pudding. We’ll talk more about the day after when we get there. You should be fully healed in two to three weeks, assuming all goes well.”

Two to three weeks??

“Yes sir. As you were not treated by one of our medics, I’m unsure how well the surgery was performed, but rest assured we will do everything we can to ensure your healing is as fast and comfortable as possible. Any other questions?”

Kix waited patiently as Luke wrote.

Can I change my own gauze?

He did not want his father to try to interfere more than strictly necessary.

The medic hesitated. “...Yes, but I would advise that you have somebody help you. If you’d like, I can assign you a medic for the next few days.”

“I can--” Vader started, but Luke interrupted him by holding up the datapad.

Yes, I would like a medic. The writing was rushed - his father could speak faster than Luke could write - but it was legible enough. Thankfully Kix took Luke’s side.

“Very well sir. I will send somebody to assist you.” With that, the medic left.

His father turned back to him. “Would you like access to the holonet, young one? It will be restricted, of course - you wouldn’t be able to contact any Rebels - but you would be able to watch videos.”

Kriff, he really was stuck here with his father for at least the next two weeks, wasn’t he? Couldn’t even eat real food.

He was already exhausted of it all.

Yes, Luke wrote. He handed the datapad to Vader.

At least he’d have plenty of time to hack into the datapad and find a way to contact his friends.

----------

Luke’s mouth finally stopped bleeding by the end of the day. He was so grateful to be rid of the gauze in his mouth that he almost didn’t mind the fact that his father had stayed after the medic left.

He tipped his head back and carefully drank some water, reveling in the fact that he could close his mouth almost all the way now. It was still partially numb, but most of the feeling was back and there was nothing holding it open anymore. He set the cup back down next to the pill bottles on the bedside table, then looked between his father next to the bed and the datapad on the blankets.

He’d wasted the day dozing and watching as many pod, speeder, and spaceship races as he could find, but Vader had stayed away for most of it, only seeming to come in as Luke was falling asleep. What...was he supposed to do now that the man seemed determined to stay?

He stared at his father for a long moment. Vader stared back.

Slowly, as if his father was a watching krayt, he grabbed the datapad and turned the latest speeder race back on, sinking into the fresh ice packs and pillows.

They watched it together, side by side.

[peachy-panic]

2 & 3 for the micro fiction?

So, uh. This got a little longer than 2-3 sentences.

Thank you so much for the prompt! This went in a direction I fully didn't expect it to, which I guess is the best case scenario for these kinds of things.

(picks up directly after this piece)

Warnings: BBU/BBU adjacent, creepy whumper, mouth whump (kind of?), talk of blood, implied future noncon.

Jaime keeps his gaze fixed on the scattered ceramic rather than his Keeper’s disapproving eyes, which he can feel boring into him like a sunburn as he stands over him on the kitchen floor. He hadn't moved from this spot when he heard the garage door, even knowing that Mr. Torley would be upset when he didn’t find him kneeling and waiting in the entry hall at his arrival like he was supposed to.

It was between staying there and trying to clean up his mess before he could be caught, or going to kneel and hoping he could explain the accident before Mr. Torley walked into the kitchen and found his favorite mug shattered.

Instead, his body had seized in panic, aided by his bone-deep exhaustion, and he had frozen in place. Unmoving. Until his Keeper had walked in to find him hunched over the evidence of his mess.

“What happened here?” His voice is edged with a teasing lilt rather than the anger Jaime had expected, but he’s pretty sure this is worse. Definitely worse.

“It was a mistake.” He knows it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as the words leave his mouth, and he blinks hard when Mr. Torley’s shadow drops into a crouch in front of him, bringing him closer to eye-level.

“A mistake?” He tilts his head, a mask of false-sincerity veiled over his features.

Jaime stutters in his recovery, shaking his head once. “I’m sorry,” he says, the apology natural on his tongue. Automatic. Easy. Placating.

But Mr. Torley is having none of it.

Jaime watches in his peripheral vision as his Keeper picks up a triangular shard of broken ceramic, examining it between his finger and thumb. The uneasy feeling swells to a peak behind his ribs.

“I trust you to take care of my things when I’m gone,” he says calmly. Dangerously. Jaime swallows. “I find trust to be instrumental in maintaining an orderly household. So you’ll understand why I find this so disappointing.”

It’s just a fucking mug, is the answer locked behind his teeth. I’m sorry, is the louder answer, perched on his tongue.

But before he has time to voice either, Mr. Torley rises from his crouch. Jaime’s eyes follow him this time, all the way to the drying rack where Jaime had placed the rest of the freshly-washed dishes only minutes ago. Something spikes in his chest when he watches his hand close around a small whiskey glass, and before he can process it, the sound of shattering explodes in his ears. Crystals of glass firework out around him on the floor, mingling with the white ceramic. His eyes are drawn to a particularly sharp corner that has landed just before his knee and he feels his breathing go shallow.

He blinks in surprise when he goes to look up at Mr. Torley and finds him crouched again, closer to him than before. Jaime does not move.

With the hand that is not holding the chip of ceramic, Mr. Torley picks up the gleaming shard of glass that had caught Jaime’s attention. He holds them both up in front of him, watching Jaime’s face with a fascinated amusement.

“I think it’s equally important that this trust is a two-way street,” he says. “Don’t you?”

Jaime nods, because he’s pretty sure he would agree to anything his Keeper said just then. A smile breaks over Mr. Torley’s face.

“Good,” he breathes, and for a split second Jaime thinks he might be off the hook. Then, something darker passes through the older man’s eyes. Something he’s seen pieces of in other rooms in the house, most often under the golden glow of a bedside lamp. “Then I’m sure you’ll agree it's apparent you have some learning to do.” Jaime’s eyes flicker up to his, finding his malicious grin to have widened. “Do you trust me?”

Once again, Jaime nods. His lies mean nothing anymore.

“Open your mouth.”

The air in the kitchen freezes, tiny ice crystals falling to the ground with the rest of the debris in his mind. For a rare moment, Jaime hesitates. Mr. Torley’s eyes lose half a second of the amused glimmer and Jaime’s heart stalls.

“Ceramic is thicker,” Mr. Torley says casually, by way of explanation. “The edges are blunter when it fractures. Sharp enough to cut, but you’ll need to apply much more pressure. Unlike glass…” he pauses, twisting the glass fragment in the overhead light of the kitchen. “One wrong slip of the tongue and you’ll be swallowing blood.”

“Please,” Jaime’s trembling voice betrays him, voicing a plea he hadn’t meant to release.

The sternness returns to Mr. Torley's eyes. “Open your mouth,” he repeats with no room for objection. “And close your eyes.”

Jaime pulls in a deep, stuttering breath. He lets it out. Then he obeys.

“Hold still,” Mr. Torley says. “If you trust me, you have nothing to worry about, right?”

Jaime nearly cries out as he feels something smooth lay flat on his tongue, but he forces the urge down, channeling the terror into utter stillness. Warm tears trickle out from beneath his pinched eyelids and run down his jaw.

“Close your mouth.”

The whine that escapes his throat might have been humiliating if he could feel anything other than the blind panic that consumed him. He has nothing at his disposal. He can’t move, and now he can’t even beg without shredding his tongue to pieces.

The jolt of light fingertips brushing the underside of his chin is all the motivation he requires. Even the most petrified part of him knows that whatever pressure Mr. Torley would apply if left to his discernment would be far crueler than what he could do to himself. Paralyzed, Jaime does as he is told and closes his mouth and--

A full-body shudder wracks a sob from his throat as his teeth find the coarse edges of the broken mug, gritty and blunt and fucking beautiful. The blood has drained from his body, leaving him cold and wrung out on the kitchen floor, but he could fucking die from relief.

Two firm taps against his bottom lip signals him to open his eyes and his mouth, breathing out as Mr. Torley pulls the piece from his mouth and discards it back onto the floor.

“See?” He smiles, speaking down at Jaime like a small child who had been needlessly afraid of a doctor’s visit. “It’s all about trust.”

Jaime is frozen as his Keeper stands to his feet once more, nudging some of the scattered remnants toward him with his polished-black shoe.

“Clean this up.” His voice is back to its usual bluntness; ceramic instead of sharp-cutting glass. “And then come see me in the bedroom.”

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Raise the Stakes, Part 8

I swear, I will wind this one up in the not-too-distant future but I keep kind of thinking of different things to do with it. Bad writer, bad. Finish your work!

You can find the previous bits of the story:

Place Your Bets

Part one two three four five six seven

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC (referenced Jay White x OFC)

Word count: 3,824

Content advisory: graphic sexual content, cursing

You feel like an idiot for actually believing that he was going to talk to you the next day, or that he was going to do anything other than ignore you the way he has since your arrival. If anything, he’s ignoring you harder than ever, or at least taking greater pains to be anywhere around you. If you see him, he’s always moving and with others. The wall between you is so thick you start gaslighting yourself, wondering if you imagined the tryst in your car.

The whole company is buzzing. It’s the last few days before the big Slammiversary show, the peak of their year. The excitement for the show and for finally having a small audience is mingled with the knowledge that every year, there are some surprises. THe bigwigs play their cards close to their chests, which means that the talent and behind the scenes people, yourself very much included, don’t know who could pop out at any moment. New Japan has been frustratingly tight-lipped. It’s supposed to be your job to bridge the gaps between New Japan and Impact but no one will tell you who might be trying to cross those bridges.

Is Nagata coming back? You’ll find out.

Another appearance by Phantasmo? Wait and see.

Tama and Tanga are mouthing off at the Good Brothers all the time on social media. Are they showing up?

It’s like shouting at a wall.

Finlay and Robinson are there, they tell you. Take care of them.

It’s almost more frustrating to hear that because, of course, you’d like to do that but one of them is very determined not to let that happen.

By Thursday afternoon, you’ve done everything you can.

“Take a day off,” Scott Damore, the man tasked with keeping this little beehive running tells you. “Go home and relax. You’ll want to be rested for Saturday.”

You want to tell him there’s no need for you to leave now but your aching back, neck, and head disagree.

“What time do you need me here Saturday?”

“Morning?” He looks surprised. “Just come in an hour or so before the show.”

“But what do you need me to do?”

“Sit in the audience, cheer at the right points, look excited if the camera passes you.”

“That’s it?”

“There’s nothing that needs to be liaised in the middle of a show. Grab a seat, have some fun. Be a fan for a few hours.”

You laugh a little because you can’t remember the last time you were able to just be a fan.

“You do like wrestling, don’t you?”

“I do,” you chuckle. “I just don’t really have the opportunity to indulge that very often.”

“So go home, have a nice dinner and a glass of wine. Do whatever it takes to get rid of that headache that I can see right through your skull. Spend the day in your pajamas playing videogames with teenagers online.”

You rise slowly, thanking him as you move to go.

“Hey,” he calls softly, “you’re doing a great job. Don’t think they’re not going to hear about it in Tokyo.”

It’s such a sweet note to leave on that you’re most of the way home, or to the temporary rental that’s passing for home right now, before you think about the fact that you haven’t laid eyes on David all day. He’s been around, because if he hadn’t been, you’re the one who would have had to field questions about it. But he’s been invisible to you.

You end up taking Scott’s suggestions very much to heart. You order dinner from the Chinese place you’ve become addicted to, watch early episodes of The Walking Dead, and have a couple of drinks until you can feel a warm blanket of sleepiness wrapping itself around you.

And that’s when your doorbell rings.

You grab your phone, although there’s a large part of you that wants to ignore it because it’s a little unnervingly late to be getting callers. But you pick it up just on that off chance, because there’s that sliver of hope that it’s…

“It’s David.” He sounds tired and grumpy but you don’t even care because he’s there, at your door and it makes your heart race. You buzz him in and then just stand in front of your apartment door like a complete idiot until you hear him knock.

As soon as you open the door, though, your heart sinks.

“Seriously?” he snaps, holding your panties up for anyone to see.

“How long does it take you to go through your damn pockets,” you hiss, trying to hide how close you are to crying.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You want me to get a restraining order?”

“I’m sorry,” you croak. “I know it was stupid, I just thought maybe if I left you a little reminder that… I don’t know. I thought that if I could get you back once…”

“You did not get me back. I’ve been lonely and I had a weak moment. And even then I couldn’t bring myself to fuck you.”

“Fine. I misinterpreted and thought it was me you wanted. Happy to have given you a show and a nice warm surface to rub one out.”

He throws your panties on the floor without another word. Now you have a problem. You know perfectly well that the second you let him out of your sight, he’s going to disappear. But the door to your apartment is going to lock automatically if it closes unless you step back inside and adjust it. So if you want to avoid giving him the chance to run away, you have to find a way to reach your discarded panties without allowing the door to close behind you.

Awkwardly, you bend forward but it’s immediately obvious that the offending garment is still out of reach. You try looking at him but he seems amused by your predicament. So you have to get right down on your knees and stretch, all while keeping your foot on the door, which weighs a ton. You’ve never felt less elegant in your life, nor more ridiculous than when you glare up at him. His expression is scornful and amused, but there’s a hint of something else you can see in his eyes. There you are, the bitch who he believes used him, the one who’s been begging for his attention, now on her knees in the most humiliating position.

You grab the scrap of fabric and scramble into a standing position before starting to speak. Unfortunately, you move enough that your foot slips from the door. You flinch as you hear the heavy thud.

“Fuck!” he yelps, loud enough you think the neighbors will show up.

It takes a second for you to register that he stuck his hand up to stop the door from closing and that the full weight of it crashed onto his fingers.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” It’s like every time he gets near you, something awful happens to him.

You push the door open and take his hand, trying to see if there’s any damage. He’s obviously irritated and tries to pull it back but it occurs to you that this could be serious.

“Come on, you have to at least let me put some ice on that.”

“No.”

“You have to. If it swells up, your hand could be screwed up for Saturday.”

He looks positively disgusted as it dawns on him that you’re right but he lets you lead him gently into your apartment.

You take out your ice tray and wrap a few cubes in the dish towel, pressing it softly against his hand. He swats you away and holds the makeshift ice pack himself. There’s a little grunted sound that might be a thank you.

“What even happened?”

“I thought the door was going to lock if it closed, I just tried to stop it. Don’t know why I did that.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, guilt soaking your voice. “I would have been locked out.”

“Boohoo.”

“I’m really sorry about the panties, I just-”

“You’re just a disaster area and I need to stay the fuck away from you. I should have just thrown your little present in your face at the show.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t.”

“I’m going to wait a few minutes until I’m sure my hand is ok. I would really appreciate it if you would just not speak for the rest of the time I’m here.”

The look on his face is so pained, so defeated, that you just nod and look at the floor. But you can’t hold it in. The insanity of the situation you’ve put yourself in and the feeling of having him close enough to touch while also being so remote burns through your insides like a wildfire and you just… break.

You let one loud yelp out and then it’s nothing but tears and loud sobbing. He immediately looks up at you and although your vision is blurred, his expression isn’t unsympathetic but that just makes it worse and you cry harder as you try to speak.

“You’re right, you should stay away from me… I thought that if I came here… I thought that if you knew I left him… that I left him for you…”

Your voice breaks up and you have to wipe your face just to keep yourself focused.

“I didn’t think about how bad I am… for you… for whatever… I just wanted…”

You break down in sobs again and you’re just about to go and hide on the balcony until he leaves when it happens. A miracle. He lays the towel on the counter and walks towards you. Even through your tears, you can see that his expression is much softer and that allows you to hold it together until he lays his hands on your shoulders and pulls you just a little closer.

At that point, once again, you lose it, the memory of how that touch felt back before you’d made a mess of everything. He presses you close to his chest, which amplifies the feeling and you feel like you’re going to pass out.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, cupping your face with his hand.

You open your eyes a little and he makes a face.

“You’re a mess.”

“I know,” you blurt. “I don’t know why I do the shit I do, it’s just-”

“No, I mean your face… there’s mascara stuff happening. It looks like an oil spill.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, holding back the tears as he uses his sleeve to wipe your face.

“Your hands are freezing.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have another pair with me. Besides, it helps with swelling, remember?”

You laugh a little again, trembling when he holds your face in his hands. For the first time in ages, he doesn’t have any of that vicious resentment in his eyes. It’s almost like the way he looked at you that day you had breakfast in the cafe, just sadder.

He looks at you that way for what feels like a long time, allowing you to regain control of yourself.

“You have really cute ears.”

“Wh- what?”

He smiles. “Your ears. They’re so cute, you have no idea. You always have your hair pulled back or up and I just remember noticing at one point. I’d smile about it all the time when you weren’t looking.”

“How do ears… be cute?” You can’t imagine what he’s talking about and yet the weirdness of the compliment makes it wonderful.

“Come here.” He takes you by the wrist and leads you into the bathroom. He positions you in front of the mirror, standing behind you and pulling you back against his chest. He takes your jaw in his hand and gently turns your head so that you can see the side of your face and your apparently adorable ear.

“You see,” he explains, running his thumb delicately along the outer ridge, “it’s kind of big and round up here, and then it tapers right off into this perfectly proportional little lobe and it looks like a half a heart. So they look like two halves of a heart. I can’t believe you’ve never noticed this before.”

He laughs softly and presses his face against yours, the scrape of his beard on your skin sending shivers through your whole body. His lips touch your cheek so fleetingly that you almost wonder if you’ve imagined it.

“Crying takes it out of you,” he sighs. “Let’s put you to bed.”

You feel numb as he leads you into the bedroom and helps you onto the bed before turning to close your blinds.

“Do you like being back in the States?” you ask, hoping you can stretch out his visit a little longer.

“Yeah, I do. I mean, it’s weird, all the back and forth lately. I swear I think I’m still jet lagged, or I’m just permanently fucked up.”

You smile as he sits down on the side of the bed. He smiles back but he makes no move to touch you or get closer.

“How do you like Impact?”

“I like not working Japanese hours.”

“Damn, I’ll bet. It’s one thing with the wrestlers but they don’t give you guys a break ever.”

You suddenly realize that you don’t want to talk about your work in Japan at all.

“I heard your brother is getting into wrestling too now?”

“Yup. I’m not sure Dad wanted either of us doing this for a living but I guess it really is in the blood.”

He takes your hands and places them on your stomach, very ladylike and demure, and pats them with his.

“You need to get some sleep. I’ll go fight with the door to get out.”

“Tell me a bedtime story?” You try to make yourself sound as cute and harmless as possible and not like some crazed broad desperate to prolong the moment.

“No.”

You pout a little, gratified when you hear him chuckle.

“Ok, once upon a time there was an extremely silly little princess who could never figure out what she wanted. And no one ever seemed to be able to help her decide what that was, no matter how hard they tried. The end.”

You can’t help but give a wry laugh at that. “At least it’s nice to be a princess.”

“Who said I was talking about you?”

You stare at him a long time, trying to figure out how to untie all the knots of what you’ve done. You can’t even imagine. You’re still trying to figure it out when he bends down and touches his lips, very softly, very quickly, to yours.

He pulls back but then almost immediately repeats the gesture. Then repeats it again. And again. He shifts so that he’s hovering over you, continuing to give you these little kisses.

“Stop that,” he rasps.

“Stop what? You’re the one kissing me.”

“Hm. I guess you’re right.” He leans in again. “Stop me.”

“I don’t want to.”

He doesn’t stop.

“Yeah, I don’t really want you to stop me either.”

And from that point, it gets more insistent, more romantic, and more passionate, until you feel him easing your pants down and running his hands over your thighs and ass. Determined that he is not just going to turn this into another resentful mutual masturbation session, you pull at his shirt. He wriggles free of it immediately easing you out of yours.

“How do you manage to run around without a bra on like that?” He squeezes and licks at your breasts with a little wink.

“I’m in my own apartment. I’m allowed to walk around however I want.”

“Yeah. But you don’t always wear one at work either, do you?”

He crashes his mouth into yours, tongue eagerly breaching your lips.

“Don’t think I don’t notice,” he pants.

He slides down and presses his face between your legs before you can think of a witty comeback, and once he does, you can’t think of anything. It’s so intense, so determined the way he goes at this, the way he picks up on every little twitch and tremor in your body, how he paces himself and you enough that it never feels like a rush to a goal. You don’t deserve this. You have no right to have him be this good to you.

You twist your hand in his hair, pulling it loose from the disheveled bun he’s always sporting. The parts of it that were trapped inside are still damp and you tug firmly to make him look up at you.

“Did you shower before you came over here?”

He smiles coyly and presses two fingers inside you, curling them like he’s beckoning you forward, making you moan and twist even as you’re trying to keep your mind focused.

“I shower pretty frequently,” he grins, “what’s it to you?”

He presses his lips close to your clit, allowing his tongue to flick ever so lightly against it.

“I don’t know,” you breathe, trying not to get overwhelmed by what he’s doing, “I like thinking you got yourself all cleaned up and handsome for me.”

You feel the soft vibrations of his laughter as he dives back into you, tongue pushing up inside you and making you scream before you grab at his hair again.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” you whimper.

“Oh I love doing it.”

“I mean I don’t know why you’re doing this to me, when I’ve been so-”

You’re cut off as he goes right back at it, licking and pushing harder for a few seconds before he whispers, “If you had any idea how often I’ve jerked off fantasizing about eating you out, you’d probably stop speaking to me.”

With that he pins you down and continues in earnest, going at you with a zealot’s vigor so that you can’t question him or do anything but scream and beg him to continue what he’s doing until you fall apart, trembling and gasping.

You feel him wriggle out of his pants before he pulls you onto his lap, kissing you and playfully biting at your lips, his arms wound tight around your waist. You run your hand slowly down the length of his shaft, smiling at the little gasp this elicits.

“I want you inside me.”

“Yeah…” the hesitance in his voice terrifies you. “I was… I was hopeful enough to get all showered and freshened up before I came over but I wasn’t so confident that I actually brought any kind of protection with me.”

“I’m on birth control. And I get checked regularly, I swear, I’m-”

He kisses you hard, so passionately that you almost tumble over.

“You sure?” he whispers when he breaks the kiss.

“Very sure.”

He flips you onto your knees and pulls your hips back towards him. As he enters you, you realize that you’d convinced yourself you weren’t ever going to get this again. It’s like a reprieve from prison, feeling him fill you up.

He leans down enough that the feathery tips of his hair brush against the skin of your back, a stark contrast to the powerful hold he has on your hips. There’s an unbroken stream of praises coming from him but all you can think of to whimper in response is, “Thank you.”

“What?”

He slows his pace just a little.

“Thank you,” you repeat. “I didn’t think you’d want to touch me again. I don’t deserve you being this good to me.”

“Oh sweetheart no.” He pulls you up and holds you against his damp chest, one hand immediately falling to your clit while he continues to thrust inside you. “It’s ok, I’ve got you. I want to feel you come again, I want you to come on my cock.”

You let yourself relax into his touch and it takes very little time until he has you falling apart for him again, your muscles contracting sharply around him as he clearly fights to keep control.

He flips you onto your back like you’re nothing and smiles down at your dazed face.

“Let’s do this right.”

He leans down and pushes himself back inside you slowly crushing your body close to his and planting a fierce kiss on your lips. His movements are agonizingly slow, letting you feel every bit of what’s happening, picking up only when you hitch your hips against his. He keeps you wrapped up tight and close, faces practically touching as he finally lets himself come, eyes locked on yours. It’s a long, tender few minutes while he holds you, touching his lips to your forehead.

“I love you.” You just put it out there before the post-coital haze can fade, hoping it’ll stop him from closing himself off again.

“I love you too,” he whispers, nuzzling against the side of your head. “But you knew that already.”

You dig your nails into his shoulders a little.

“Stay with me. Sleep here, please.”

He looks thoughtful but it doesn’t take long for him to smile, stroking your cheek as he does.

“Yeah,” he beams, “I will.”

He rolls onto his side and pulls you close again.

“Did you seriously think I was going to be able to stay away from you forever?”

“Yes. I was pretty sure that you didn’t entirely want to, but I figured you’d fight it off.”

“How long have we known each other?”

“About six years.”

“You were working at the dojo and we all used to hang out together, right?”

“Yes.”

“How long had we been there before I asked you out to dinner?”

“I don’t know. A few months.”

“Closer to four. And I was already so hung up on you that I could barely think straight when you were around.”

You look at him in surprise. Yes, you’d known that he’d flirted a lot, but at that point all the boys at the dojo were trying to scheme their way into your pants. You’d always assumed that his real interest had developed much later.

“Yeah,” he says, noticing your expression, “I was that into you that early. And you know damn well it only got more intense from there.”

He wraps his arms around you and presses your head against his chest, kissing your hair. “And you thought that having finally gotten to take you to bed, having gotten you to say that you liked me, that I was going to be able to walk away?”

You squeeze him tight and nestle against him, your head immediately finding its way to the hollow of his shoulder. And as soon as it does, your whole body feels warm and safe and content. You want to keep talking to him but you can’t because this sort of bliss doesn't allow you to stay awake.

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

All The Clouds Ch. 1 | Niall Horan x Reader

Warnings: tiny mention of alcohol

Chapter 1: HEARTBREAK WEATHER

“It can be so lonely in this city,”

In a surprise to no one, Niall was watching golf when you arrived at his large Los Angeles home. He had changed clothes in the couple of hours since you had seen him last, he was now wearing grey sweatpants (that you were very familiar with having worn them multiple times yourself) and a blue t-shirt. The late afternoon sun was filling the entryway with a deliciously golden and welcoming hue when he opened the door for you, letting you inside.

“I thought we were watching a movie,” you couldn’t help but comment on his choice of programming as you took off your coat, dropping it on a chair as you made your way towards his kitchen.

“I thought you were bringing dinner,” he shot back with a smirk, following you like a lost puppy.

“I did bring dinner, I just need to make it first.” You were no stranger to his kitchen, and wasted no time preheating the oven and reaching for the dishes you’d need to make the dinner you had planned. Niall perched himself on a chair, watching your movements closely.

“What?” you raised your eyebrows when you noticed the way he was pouting.

“I was hoping you’d just order pizza or something,” he confessed, leaning against the counter, “I like it when you cook, pet, but I’m starving.”

“You’re a grownup with your own phone. You can order pizza if you want, but…” you paused, pulling tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese out of the grocery bag you had brought, “I can make it faster than the delivery person can bring it.”

Niall looked at you in disbelief, his mouth opening slightly and his eyes lighting up, “how’d you know?”

“We’ve been friends for years, I just know,” you shrugged, biting your lip to hide your smile and looking down at the dough you needed to roll out, “I let this rise while I was home so all it needs is toppings and to be thrown in the oven once I shape it.”

“You do that, I’ll go put on some music,” Niall suggested. Much like you knew he’d want pizza that evening, he knew that you preferred loud music while cooking. While you started stretching the dough, he walked away. You heard the TV turn off, followed by the beep of his phone connecting to his speakers.

The music came on while you were dusting his counter with flour, a bright pop melody that you immediately recognized. You couldn’t help but move your hips along to the song, letting the beat dictate your movements.

“Ahhhh this hit, that ice cold Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold,” Niall rejoined you in the kitchen, singing loudly and dancing just as badly as you were. He shuffled up beside you, dancing in time until he found the perfect moment to grab your hands and spin you around. His quick movement caught you off guard, sending you into a fit of giggles when you righted yourself. He let you turn back to the pizza dough, instead grabbing a wooden spoon from beside his stove and using it as a microphone.

“Stop, wait a minute. Fill my cup, put some liquor in it,” you sang along with him. This song was one of your favorites to listen to while goofing off with Niall, it had the perfect amount of words and instrumentals. It was a great song to listen to while in the kitchen, driving through the city with the windows down, and every time in between.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Niall strutting away from you, still lost in the music. You took the opportunity to leave your station at the counter and innocently walk up to him, singing quietly as he turned to you, oblivious.

Just as the beat dropped, you reached your floured thumb up to his face and swiped it across his forehead, leaving a trail of white dust in your wake. Niall knew exactly what you’d done, laughing loudly as you scampered away from him to the other side of the kitchen. He followed you quickly, grabbing a handful of flour as he passed by the bag you had left out. You tried to escape him, getting chased around the table in the middle of the room a few times, but there was no way for you to get past him.

“Niall,” you cautioned when he had you cornered by the fridge.

“Petal,” he emphasized the L just as you had with his name.

You held your hands up in surrender as he took a step closer, “you don’t have to do this.”

“Yes I do, you started it.”

Another step.

“I didn’t start anything.”

“Yes you did.”

Another step.

“I thought you were starving, let me finish the pizza.”

“The pizza can wait.”

Another step. You were running out of time.

“What’s that over there?”

As soon as Niall’s head turned to look where you had pointed, you lunged towards the pile of flour on the counter. He was quick to react once he realized you had tricked him, catching you with one strong arm across your middle. The other came up to drop the whole handful of flour that he had been holding over top of your head. You managed to grab enough flour from the counter to leave handprints on either side of his cheeks when you turned to face him.

His grip around your torso didn’t loosen until you were both sufficiently covered in a plentiful dusting of flour.

“Are you conceding?” you asked smugly when he finally stopped.

“No, I’m just hungry,” he confessed, laughing, “can we finish the pizza now?”

“The pizza could have been done by now but someone chose to dump flour on my head.”

You moved back to where the dough and toppings had been abandoned, quickly putting everything together and into the oven. When you closed the oven, Niall was back by your side, pulling you into him.

“This is for Instagram,” he explained when he held up his phone, the front camera facing the two of you.

“As if your fans needed another reason to love you,” you rolled your eyes, but posed anyways. “I can’t wait for this pizza to be done so I can go shower.”

“You can go now if you want, I’ll watch the oven,” Niall offered.

“Are you sure? You won’t get distracted and forget about it?”

“Have a little faith, petal. I’ll be fine.”

“Ok…” you said slowly, walking towards the guest bedroom, “I’m trusting you. It needs to come out it ten minutes.” Niall shot you back a cheesy grin.

“Don’t worry about it, enjoy your shower.”

Though your days of being starstruck by Niall were long gone, his home never ceased to amaze you. It wasn’t every day you got to be in a multi-million dollar home that put your small apartment to shame. Niall didn’t spend all of his time in LA, and when he was in the city of angels he usually had some form of work to do. Somehow, he always managed to make time in his busy schedule to hang out with you, even if it meant leaving the studio and stopping by your apartment for dinner three nights in a row. Though you often lived on opposite sides of the world, you never felt like Niall neglected you or your friendship.

Over the years you had spent enough time at his house to be allowed a whole drawer in his guest bedroom to keep your clothes. In reality, your drawer contained a pair of gym shorts, a pair of sweatpants, a nice outfit for going out, and a stack of t-shirts you had stolen from Niall.

You pulled out a t-shirt and the shorts, then walked over to the en suite bathroom and stripped yourself of your dirty clothes. You turned on the shower and let the water warm up before stepping into the stream. It took longer than you wanted to scrub the flour out of your hair and off of your face. It seemed like every time you thought you had gotten it all, more would appear.    Once you were absolutely certain you were clean, you turned off the water and wrapped yourself in a towel.

You dressed yourself in the clothes you had picked earlier, then combed through your hair with your fingers briefly before leaving the bathroom to rejoin Niall. He was lounging on his very large couch, transfixed on his phone. You sat down next to him, sinking into the cushions. Without looking up from his phone, he lifted his arm so you could rest your legs across his lap. His calloused thumb started rubbing thoughtlessly and gently across the skin by your knee.

His hair was damp and his clothes were clean. He had probably showered as well, you mused. You couldn’t help but find yourself distracted by the nuances of Niall’s facial expressions as he scrolled through Twitter. You couldn’t deny that your best friend was extremely handsome, even more so now that he had stopped bleaching his hair and was letting his natural brunet locks grow out. The way his face lit up when reading comments from fans made your heart swell, his grin so familiar it was like putting on your favorite hoodie.

“What are ya lookin’ at?” Niall poked your ribs when he looked up and noticed the way you were staring at him.

“Your face.”

“Is there somethin’ wrong with it?” he cheesed, turning his chin back and forth so you could see it from all angles.

“Of course not,” you smirked, pinching his cheek between your fingers, “I think it’s nice.”  

“Only nice? I think it’s sexy.”

“Dork,” you rolled your eyes, “are you going into the studio tomorrow?”

“Mhmm,” Niall hummed, “do you want to come with?”

You scoffed at his question, “Of course I want to come with, that’s not even a question. Can I-“

“Absolutely not,” he quickly interrupted you, aware of what you were about to ask before the words even left your mouth, “you’re not allowed to touch the sound board.”

“Niiiii,” you whined, throwing your head back dramatically, “please?” You tried to pout as best as you could, hoping his heartstrings would do you a favor. Instead, he just laughed at your dramatics.

“No, you know me too well. I write decent lyrics but if you get your hands on it, it’ll be like reading my diary to the whole world.”

“You keep a diary?” you snickered, choosing to ignore the compliment he gave you.

“No, but if I did you would turn it into a gorgeous song, I know it.”

“Sure.” You chose to leave it at that, pulling up your own Twitter timeline. Your notifications were flooded with screenshots of the Instagram story Niall had posted. Most of the replies were along the lines of ‘goals’ and ‘I wish I was (y/n)’. There was also an abundance of conversations regarding your relationship status with Niall. ‘I ship this so hard’, and ‘I didn’t know Niall and (y/n) were dating’ among other things.

This wasn’t the first time your relationship with the Irishman had been speculated about, online or otherwise. Multiple of your friends and even your parents had said something to you at one point or another, claiming you were made for one another. Every time you or Niall posted something online about the other, the fans had a field day with it.

The close bond you shared was no secret to the world, but it hadn’t come easy. After years of knowing each other, the best way you could describe it was ‘right person, wrong time’. Your lives were better with the other in it, but there were too many ups and downs that had gotten in the way of a romantic relationship.

Your mind wandered to the possibility of actually dating him, of being able to call him your boyfriend for the first time since you had met. He wasn’t wrong, you did know all of the nuances of his emotions. You knew him better than you had known anyone in your entire life. When you were younger, there were a million reasons not to date. One Direction was just taking off, paparazzi was everywhere, and he was in a new city every day. You were also both career-driven, a relationship that early on would have gotten in the way. Now, though, the band was on hiatus and he was taking some much needed time away from the prying eyes of the public. Now, a relationship could actually be a possibility.

As soon as the thought crossed your mind it terrified you.

There was a reason you and Niall had stayed friends all these years- the connection you had with each other was undeniable- but you worried that if you tried to pursue something else with him it would ruin all of the goodness between you. You had to stay just friends with him, even if it felt like you were starting to want more.

You needed a distraction, so you refocused your mind on the present.

“Did you eat all the pizza while I was in the shower?” you nudged his stomach with your knee gently.

Niall glanced at you in confusion, processing your words. As soon as he did, his eyes went wide.

“Don’t be mad.”

“I was hoping you’d share but I guess I’m not-“ you were cut off by a loud beeping in the adjacent kitchen, realization hitting after the initial shock of the sound. “Niallllll,” you sighed as you jumped out of his lap.

You ran to the kitchen, shutting off the oven and pulling out the charred remains of what was going to be a delicious pizza. Niall followed quickly, grabbing a hand towel to wave in front of the smoke alarm until it turned off.

“Sorry, pet,” he apologized once the house was once again silent. You stood shoulder to shoulder, sadly gazing at the burnt meal. “You went to shower and it sounded nice so I wanted to take one too. I got distracted and forgot.”

“It’s ok, Ni,” you put a hand gently on his wrist.

“No, it’s not. You worked hard to make dinner for us and I ruined it.” He seemed really upset about it, looking down and away from you instead of his normal attentiveness.

“Hey,” you called gently, “I’m actually, honestly, not mad at you, or upset at all for that matter. I should have remembered too. Accidents happen.”

“Honestly?” he looked up, his blue eyes searching yours for sincerity.

“Honestly. There is something you can do to make it up to me, though.”

“Anything,” Niall perked up eagerly. You reached up to pat him lightly on the cheek.

“You can order delivery from that place across town that I like.” You left him with that, walking back into the living room and getting comfortable again on the couch. You heard Niall talking in the other room, presumably making the call to the restaurant. After a minute he joined you, picking up your legs as he sat down so they were once again resting across his lap. He didn’t say anything until he noticed the way you were biting your lip to fight back a smile.

“What?”

“It’s not funny.”

“We almost burned my house down,” Niall was starting to catch on, the corners of his lips turning up.

“Yup. We almost burned your house down and it’s really not funny.”

Niall watched you struggle to keep your composure, amused, “it’s a little funny.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, you both lost it.

It took you far too long to stop laughing, feeding off of each other’s energy. Once you had finally caught your breath, Niall stood up.

“Delivery should be here in ten minutes, do you want a beer?”

You nodded, watching him walk away.

That man is my best friend, you thought. As soon as the words crossed your mind, your earlier internal battle resurfaced. Sure, Niall was your best friend, but your relationship didn’t necessarily need to stay that way.

It certainly wasn’t how it had started.

“But it feels different when you’re with me”

Chapter 2: BLACK AND WHITE 

[jasperswh0re]

Savior [Raylan Givens x reader]

aaand yes i went ahead and made a part two for this. will this be a series? no clue :) hope you all enjoy nonetheless

Summary: You see Raylan Givens again at a bar

Warnings: Physical fights, drinking, creepy guy

Word count: 1,702

part one

---

The cold countertop felt fresh against your burning cheek. You paid no mind to the clinking sound near you, along with the loud voices from the back of the bar. It had been a long day at work. You needed a drink.

"You doing alright there, hon?" The bartender asked. She was sweet. You always enjoyed her company. "Are you actually going to order something tonight?"

You lifted your heavy skull and sighed. "Long Island iced tea, please."

The drink was sat in front of you in a matter of seconds. You took your time sipping on it, watching the bustling bar crowd around you. Well, as bustling as a bar was in this state.

You found that people in Kentucky drank differently. They were quiet. Came for peace after a long shift, similar to you. Of course, there were always the assholes creeping on women or the loud young women who were celebrating their 21st. Every bar had them.

But for the most part, they were quiet. Calm. You preferred it over the bars in Oregon.

Cool glass now empty, you left the barstool behind to play some pool. You weren't terrible at the game, it was fun for a completionist like you. A part of you hoped you had someone to play with. Hell, even someone to spend time with outside of work. But moving down to Kentucky had you entirely cut off from your Oregon life. No friends.

Just a family you were not determined to see anytime soon. You were thankful they had no idea of your presence. You intended to keep it that way.

"Don't I know you?" Someone said behind you. You didn't recognize it immediately, assuming they were talking to someone else, but you rolled your eyes at the male that was attempting to hit on you.

"Probably not..." You said in an annoyed tone. You leaned on the cue and turned to see a very familiar man wearing an even more familiar cowboy hat.

"Oh that's a shame," Raylan said sarcastically, but a smile sat on his face. "I was trying to find the owner of this-" He held up your silver bracelet. The one stolen from you weeks ago.

"Marshall!" Your eyes widened. "What in the world... You were trying to find me?"

"Not inherently," Raylan placed the bracelet in your palm and leaned against the pool table. "I did get it back from that asshole after the whole... ordeal."

Raylan paused. A part of him wanted to admit that yes, he was trying to find you. Something about you had his mind running a mile a minute. Tim took notice of his distractedness during work, so he figured, why not find you? It took a while but he stumbled upon you on accident. The one time he wasn’t actively searching for you.

"I figured you wanted it back... for uh... sentimental value."

"That's too kind," You smiled down at the jewelry. "Thank you, Raylan."

You guys stared at each other happily. Somehow, the distance between you had nearly vanished. A sense of wanting washed over you both. You wanted more. He wanted more. Though, you guys weren’t sure what you wanted more of.

And more you each received.

The coming weeks were full of Raylan running into you (or meeting you, on purpose) at the same bar. Sometimes he would arrive all scuffed up from a day at work and others you could see regret in his eyes.

Raylan didn't bring up his days at the Marshall Service very often. You were the first person he knew outside of law enforcement and Harlan. You weren't a criminal, either. So he figured he would bring it up as little as possible. It made everything easier.

He found you mildly interesting to say at the least. You were a small-town person, he was too but his definition certainly didn't match yours, and you grew up a simple life. You didn't talk much of your family but rather ambitions, goals, and everything in between.

You're a calm person, he realized. Way more collected than any person he's met. You aren't wild. You go with the flow. You don't step out of line. You were no goody-two-shoes and definitely not a criminal, he could spot someone shady about a mile away.

You were just... laidback. Even when he showed up with a swelling face and a bloody nose, you wouldn't scold him or make a fuss. If he didn't want to talk about it, you would know.

Instead, you’d take care of him. He never had a say in, either. It didn't matter if you had to take him to the men's restroom to wipe away the blood and sweat. You were there for him that night, no questions asked.

Raylan found peace in this. Any night that he saw you, calm flooded his body. It was like you were an escape from his day-to-day life. It was like you knew exactly what he was thinking.

Slowly but surely, this was how he began to fall for you. More time passed and he was in deep. Your meetups at the bar became a consistent thing. Every Friday night. And every Friday he got to know you a little more.

"So you haven't told me this yet," Raylan set his whiskey on the counter. "Why did you move to Kentucky... of all places? You're from Oregon. I think it's neat... so why here?"

Your calm exterior faltered for a moment. Raylan was quick to pick up on it.

"Just..." You looked to the side, avoiding his eyes. A hard mask replaced your previous expression. "No reason in particular."

"That's a little hard to believe..." Raylan's eyebrows furrowed. 

“Trust me,” You flashed an unconvincing smile. “I’ve read up on you cowboy. I saw an article about your little-” You made a motion of a gun shooting with your fingers- “Down in Florida. Is that why I’ve never seen you ‘round here before?”

Raylan’s concerned face didn’t drop, but he slowly answered you, “Yeah. That’s why I’m down here. Why won’t you answer my question?”

You slammed your drink on the counter and snapped, “I never ask you questions, Raylan.”

He lifted his brows and held up his hands defensively. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get a word out, a taller man blocked his vision of you. 

“Is he bothering you, cutie?” The man said. He was drunk as hell. “Let me take you out of here. No problem, no stress.”

Raylan glared at the figure in front of him. More than anything, he wanted to yank on the dusty flannel and shove him into the row of drinks behind the counter. He restrained himself. 

“No thanks, we’re okay,” You pursed your lips into a thin line.

“Come on...” He drawled and reached out a hand to touch your shoulder, but a hand yanked it away.

“Don’t touch,” Raylan warned. 

“Oh? What... are you their boyfriend?”

“Raylan,” You glared at him. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Yeah, Raylan,” The man teased. 

“Personal space is of the essence,” Raylan trained his eyes on the man. “Touch them again...” He breathed through his teeth. “You don’t want to find out.”

“Did you just threaten me?” The man leaned towards Raylan, their faces inches apart. Raylan didn’t answer him. “That’s what I thought...” The man turned around again, grazing his fingers across your bare knee. 

Raylan took that as an invitation to swing a fist into his head. He warned him. You leaned backward in surprise when the man stumbled, hitting his head on the counter. You could only watch, sipping on your whiskey, as the man tackled Raylan to the ground. You warned him.

The bartender forced the two men outside to fight and you didn’t follow right away. You finished your drink, eyeing the bartender who was staring back at you as if to say, “Aren’t you going to follow him?” 

Realizing that it wouldn’t go well, you dropped your head in defeat. Damn it Raylan, you thought. You gulped the rest of the alcohol and slowly walked out of the bar. You took your time, not exactly eager to see the rest of this fight. 

The cool breeze hit your skin. You loved the Kentucky breeze. Tobacco scent filled your lungs as you stared up at the golden sky. The only thing interrupting this peaceful moment was the sound of grunting and punches being thrown. 

You looked down to see Raylan getting his ass kicked. He shielded his face from the punches, his hat was a few feet away from his head. Your eyes flickered between him and the hat for a few seconds. Eventually, you walked past the fighting boys and grabbed the hat from the brim. How it managed to stay on while he was tackled... You hadn’t a clue. Every time you saw him this was glued to his scalp. 

Your fingers traced the tan object. You liked how it fit him. Somehow, he pulled it off well. But Raylan could pull anything off. Even getting the starlights beat out of him. You drew a sigh and placed the hat on a nearby bench, then approached the large man on top of your friend.

“Hey!” You yelled, kicking the side of the man. He groaned, barely pausing. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

The man didn’t answer. You glared daggers, which seemed to have done enough. “Go on home... Go on!”

He let out a huff of frustration and left. You stared down at Raylan’s beaten body. 

“You’re an idiot.”

“I was drinking,” he groaned, pressing his palm to his temple. 

You grabbed his hat and sat next to him on the pavement. Some blood from his forehead spilled onto his hair, so you squeezed a strand between your thumb and your index finger, ridding it of the hot blood. It was a gentle gesture. All Raylan could do was stare at you. 

“So dumb...” You muttered. “Do you ever think with that head of yours?”

He didn’t answer.

“Always trying to save me...” You stared at him disappointedly. 

“Anything... for you,” The words slipped out. He froze, wondering if his words would scare you away, but you laughed. 

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, Marshall.”

[justasparkwritings]

Peace: In Secret

Previous: Your Brothers As My Brothers

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Angst / Slice of Life

Rating: PG17

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Swearing, Bar Fight, Defending Honor, Relationship Turmoil, Racism and Xenophobia, Everyone Cries 

Summary: A fateful night pushes insecurities to the forefront as you and Jungkook reckon with what your future will look like. 

Listening: peace by Taylor Swift 

Peace Master List

          The fight had escalated in a matter of minutes. A set of knuckles had collided, blood was spilled, security had rushed you out the back door and into the waiting van. As they tended to JK, you sat staring, fire stoking with every rotation of tires. He tried to speak to you, to ask if you were okay, to see if you were in shock or hurt in anyway. His free hand rested on your knee, drawing slow circles in an attempt to slowly exercise the adrenaline out of him.

         As you arrived back at their Los Angeles Airbnb, security gave Jungkook direct orders to put it in a bowl of cold water with plenty of ice cubes. They needed the swelling to be minimal so they could further assess the damage his punch had created.

         You shuffled in after him, absentmindedly finding your way to a stool in the kitchen. Your eyes were glossed over, the smoke in your body causing tears to form.

         The other members rushed in, huddling around you both, asking what had happened. Jungkook related the story in rushed Korean, and from what you could make out, it sounded more exaggerated than it was.

Here’s what you knew to be true:

JK had gone to the bathroom to fix his hair

In his absence, another man had flirted with you

You’d rejected him kindly, saying you were waiting for your boyfriend to return 

In typical fashion, he was persistent, saying some misogynistic line about leaving a girl like you alone at the bar

You laughed, bruising his ego

You turned to walk away when he tried to grab your wrist

JK must’ve caught this part of interaction

Through rage filled eyes he watched as another man made a pass on you

Jungkook could see your disgust and irritation

He could see the unwillingness the other man had to let you go

Jungkook had approached swiftly, telling the man to back off

The man had looked from Jungkook to you, a look of recognition passing over his face

The man laughed, then spit on the floor

There was name calling, and he looked back at you

He barked that he would never fuck a bitch with yellow fever

Jungkook punched him, knocking him on the ground instantly

You dropped your glass, shattering on impact

BTS security was on you in a matter of seconds, whisking you to the car

         Tae and Ho-Seok were on you instantly, they wrapped arms around you, holding you close, whispering comforting phrases into your hair. You didn’t hear any of it, you didn’t feel any of it. All you saw was the smattering of flashing lights.

         Jimin grabbed you a glass of water and turned you away from Taehyung and Ho-Seok. Squaring his shoulders with yours, he looked you in the eyes.

         “Babe, say something,” Jimin whispered. You hadn’t noticed him in front of you, your gaze lost as you recounted the events of the evening. As you blinked you realized you were eye to eye with Jimin, and you gasped.

         “Fuck! I didn’t realize you were so close,” You said.

         “Are you sure you’re okay?” Namjoon asked, moving to stand next to Jimin. Taehyung was still at your side, arm draped over your shoulder, holding you close to him.

         You looked at him, expression blank. It was confirmation enough for Namjoon, and he informed the other members that they needed to give you and Jungkook a minute alone.

         “Noona, are you okay? You haven’t said anything,” JK moved the bowl towards you, coming to sit on the stool next to you. His left hand reached for yours. You pulled it back, blinking the tears down your cheeks.

         “I’m not fucking okay,” you whispered.

         Jungkook hadn’t seen this wrath in you before. He didn’t recognize the shift in your tone. He couldn’t distinguish the look that swept across your face. He thought he knew every expression, every mood you had. He thought he’d seen every iteration of you, every hurt that he could imagine you experiencing. But as he stared at you, eyes searching for any sort of familiarity, he realized there was a side to you he’d never seen: blind rage.

         “I know, it’s bad, it was a bad situation that-

         “That you made worse.” You stood up, shoving the stool under the counter. It clattered against the cabinets below, the force you’d exerted unnecessary.

         “What?” Jungkook’s doe eyes swelled, made it worse?

         “You punched him,” You snapped.

         “He was going to attack you!” He countered.

         “I was walking away.” You placed your hands on the counter, fingers wrapping around the edges.

         “He didn’t care!” Jungkook stood too, trying to find the higher ground.

         “There were enough people around. The bodyguards were coming. You reacted recklessly!” You snapped, voice rising.

         “Did you hear what he said to me? What he called me? What he said about you?! I was trying to -

         “Were you? We’re you trying to protect me, or trying to defend yourself?” You yelled.

         “Yes! I was trying to defend-

         “Do you understand what you’ve done Jungkook?” Your voice broke, the yelling and tears taking its toll.

         “What? I protected-

         “You made a fucking scene. You irresponsibly, recklessly, made a scene and now you have put me and our relationship in jeopardy.” Your eyes were wild, your throat ached, venom dripped from your words, the threat of poison seeping into Jungkook’s eyes.

         “I was taking you away from danger!” He knocked the bowl of water into the sink. The glass against the metal of the sink clanged, alerting everyone in the house to how far your fight had escalated.

         “Everyone saw. Did you notice the phones out? The paparazzi waiting with bated breath outside the club? Did you see how they ogled me, the second we walked in? Did you fucking notice any of it?”

         “I- “

         “They all got it. I guarantee it’s already posted. K-pop idol Jeon Jungkook TKO. Defending some woman’s honor! It’s fucking everywhere,” Your voice was small, every syllable punctuated like the tattoo needles that adorned yours and your lovers’ skin.

         “I was trying to protect you! He was a monster!” Jungkook yelled, wincing as the sound reverberated in the foreign kitchen.

         “Monster or not, you kissed my cheek and sent me to the slaughter!” You blinked the tears down your cheeks, their warmth mixing with the heat that had arisen on your cheeks.

         Jungkook didn’t often understand your religious imagery, and often turned to RM to relay a story or parable that you’d mentioned. This one he got. He was Judas. Giving up the savior to the zealots and Pharisees. He looked at you, you, his brilliant, compassionate, feisty girlfriend. You held his future in your hands, and as he stared at you, he recognized what was guiding your fight. It wasn’t anger or rage, it was fear.

         “You put a fucking target on my back.” Your sob crashed through you, bringing your hands to your mouth as you tried to muffle the sound.

         “I didn’t,” His tone softened.

         “You didn’t think, Kook. I’ve already started popping up in articles and on Twitter. Strangers are tagging me in things. Now you’ve sealed my fate. They are the hunters, Jungkook. There’s nothing you or Management can do to stop it. They’ve got me. Game. Over.” You tried to steady your breathing, your cries coming out more as whimpers than the devastating sobs you’d let course through you.

         “It’s not game over! We will protect you; I will protect you!” He said, indignantly.

         “Why don’t you understand? They will kill me!” You yelled in return. Why was he so stubborn, so clueless?

         “No, they won’t. No, they won’t.” Jungkook shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the dark places your words were taking him to.

         “What can you do to stop it?” You asked, daring him to answer.

         “I’ll take the bullet for you!” His voice was exasperated.

         “Please, punching that guy was you cocking the gun.”

         It hangs in the air, an unrecognizable cloud of disdain and hurt. You were beginning to choke on it.

         “I would die for you,” he pleads, hand reaching out to try and grab yours again.

         “In secret,” you mumbled pulling it away.

         “What?” He asked, the anger returning to his voice.

         “That’s the catch with you, Jungkook. you’d die for me, in secret. You’ll hold my hand, in secret, tell me you love me, in secret. Go out with me as a friend. Never take photos in case your phone is hacked. Why, in two years, do I only have one printed photo of us? You’ll take a bullet for me? Sure. But you’ll bleed in secret.”

         “I, I’m trying to protect you.”

         “Look where that’s gotten us.”

         “What?”

         “You can’t save me from this. I am the fucking storm, Jungkook.”

         “No, you’re not,” Jungkook was trying to find something to hang on to, some way to make his way back to you, but he was coming up empty.

         “It lives in me, and it always will. This wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t there. If we weren’t together. Don’t you get it? This is the beginning; your life will never be peaceful. Ever. I can’t give that to you.” You laid out the points, why couldn’t he understand?

         “My life hasn’t been peaceful in seven year,” Jungkook spoke with bitterness.

         “I’m making it worse,” You responded.

         “It’s not you! It’s ARMY! It’s fans! It’s everyone fucking else!” Jungkook hated to swear when he spoke to you, he hated becoming unraveled, unhinged as he stared at you.

         “They’re screaming at us not to be together. They will do whatever they can to ensure you and I don’t make it.”

         “Fuck them,” Jungkook said.

         “Why?” You asked, exasperated.

         “What do you mean why?” He snapped.

         “Why protect me? Why care at all Jungkook, why screw over your fans for me?”

         “I love you,” His heart was breaking, you could see it in his eyes. The love he had for you tried to tether you to each other, but it wasn’t the lifeline, it was the anchor.

         “All I do is sit and talk shit; I’m fucking wasting your honor. Jeon Jungkook, stoic, in touch with his emotions, loving, caring, always looking out for others. Perfectionist in his craft. Working himself to the bone day after day. Jungkook, the empath. The Golden Maknae. The most adored and admired. Wasting two years with me so what, the minute another guy tries something you punch him and it’s all over the news? So, I can be harassed and sought out? So BTS will be in jeopardy of ever being able to have a spouse or partner? Offering us, our love, up for slaughter because what, it’s for show? All so you can, fucking love me in secret?”

         Jungkook was knocked back by your words. The two years of your relationship, of your insecurities, of his, came tumbling out of you, shattering like your glass as they crashed around him. Hadn’t you worked through this? Hadn’t you made strides in your relationship? Weren’t his brothers yours, your lives dedicated to one another’s? Hadn’t you vowed to love each other through the cascading blue waves of stress, anxiety and depression that came with a long distance, Idol relationship?

         “I am doing what is right,” Jungkook was gritting just teeth. The tension causing a headache to build.

         “Sometimes what’s good for people isn’t what’s right.” You said turning your back to him.

         “Where are you going? We need to talk-

         “I don’t want to talk to you, Jungkook.” You said, your voice weary.

         “We have to figure this-

         “No, we don’t. You know why?” You questioned, turning to stare him down.

         He already knew why.

         “Because tomorrow we’ll be awoken with Management and it’ll be time to reassess our relationship, and the terms to which I have agreed to.”

         “The devils in the details,” He muttered.

         “Their verdict will be final. And the two years we’ve spent will go down the fucking drain as Big Hit decides to do everything in their power to keep us apart and to inhibit the rest of their K-Pop super team from ever falling in love.” The truth hurt; it was written across both of your faces as you stood staring. The damage of your fight echoed across the hall and into the kitchen.

         “We’ve fought this fight, they won’t-

         “You don’t know that, Jungkook. You don’t know that they aren’t meeting right now, pulling out papers and lists from years ago, weighing the options.”

         “Can’t we just, try to-

         “I don’t want to talk to you. I’m fucking exhausted. I’m devastated. And I can’t fucking look at you for another minute or I’ll never be able to recover.” The tears were pouring again, and you tried to stifle them until you were at least in a car home.

         “Please just, tell me where you’re going, please, Noona.” He pleaded.

         “I’m going home. Don’t call me.”

         You grabbed your bag from the counter and walked towards the door, BTS bodyguards close behind you. They’d take you home and if Jungkook was worried enough, they’d stay the night, perched in their car, eyes trained on your front door.

         You didn’t want to talk anymore. You wanted to shower and cry and sleep alone in your bed. There was nothing else to be said to Jungkook, nothing else to be done. Management had wanted your relationship to stay secret indefinitely, any breach of that could result in them terminating your security passes, removing every evidence of you from their systems. You’d become the blemish on their perfectly manicured boyband. You, the biracial American they had tried to dissuade Jungkook from dating. You, the woman who had stolen the hearts of every BTS member, becoming an integral part of their stories and lives. You, the woman Jungkook was going to marry… And he’d tossed it away.

         The team came through to check out JK’s hand. It was fine, superficial scrapes. Nothing that ice and rest wouldn’t heel. Make up would cover the rest, like they had done with his tattoos. They could always wipe away any signs of his rebellion.

         The bigger problem was the scene he’d made, and the team had been called and would spend the next week scouring the internet for evidence. Did the guy he hit know who he was? If he did, would he want money? Did the lawyers need to draft an NDA for him? Would they have to buy off website after website, fan sites and reddit threads from posting any evidence of what Jungkook did? Would the urban legend live on, that Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae, was dating an American and had punched a man in her honor?

         After the team finished with his hand, Jungkook made his way to the living room, slumping onto the couch, tears stinging as he tried to blink them away. The members trickled into the living room, sitting around him.

         “Do you want to talk about it?” Taehyung asked.

         “We always talk when we fight,” Jin added.

         “I’m sorry if I’ve endangered you, or your futures,” Jungkook said, staring straight ahead. He couldn’t face them. He couldn’t let them know that pride had bested him. Pride, the most insidious of all emotions, had wormed its way into his being.

         “It was so stupid,” Yoongi replied.

         “You didn’t hear what he said.” Jungkook whispered.

         “What did he say?” Yoongi challenged.  

         “First, he spit at me, and called me a China man, said that they should’ve dropped an A-bomb over all of Asian, rid us all from the planet…”

         Yoongi regretted challenging him.

         “Then, he looked at her, he,” Jungkook took a deep breath, “He looked at her and he said that he would never fuck a bitch with yellow fever.” His tears fell freely, the weight of the racism breaking him down. His hyungs sat silently, staring at one another. They’d never been the subject of a violent, xenophobic tirade before. They’d heard comments, they weren’t idiots, they knew it existed. But to Jungkook? To you?

         Jungkook had punched the man because he insulted him, he used the most derogatory names he could think of, and he wasn’t sorry. Attacking Jungkook was par for the course, what the man had really been disgusted by was you. How could you, caramel skin and curvaceous figure be dating Jungkook? How could you, with that earth-shattering smile, be willingly dating a man who came from the Orient? Jungkook had defended himself, and he wasn’t sorry he had. He wasn’t sorry that he’d defended your honor. He wouldn’t apologize for it.

         Jin, Taehyung, Yoongi, Jimin, Namjoon and Ho-Seok sat with him until his tears had dried. They held him close, their silence wrapping around him, offering him the comfort he desperately wanted from you. When his breathing had settled, Namjoon suggested he shower and get to sleep, they’d make sure you got home safely.

         Jungkook let the water scaled his skin, turning the pale white to pink. He shortened his skin care routine and fell into bed, where the tears came again, and he clung to the space you should’ve been in. 

Next: Would It Be Enough? 

[wanna-do-bad-things]

The Comfort Movie List.

Summary: During quarantine together, Henry looks to make the most of their exercise time, but when it goes a little bit wrong, he tries to make it up to her. Type: Fluff. Caring husband.  Word count: 931 A/N: This was a request on my patreon. The request was: So me and henry are in quarantine together. It been great to finally have him to yourself and no travelling and movie premieres to go to. So one afternoon Henry decides to ask his wife to come with him on a 10,000 plus walk around the area. She agrees as its been to stuffy being at home . First two days she enjoys it and the 4th day she over does it and hurts her foot. Now at home, henry doted on her, looking after her sprained foot. He cuddles her and kisses her while they eat and watch movies

Forever tag list:  @luclittlepond |  @fcgrizi  | @henrythickcavill  |  @mitzwinchester  |  @mary-ann84 | @hell1129-blog  | @pensieve-foryour-thoughts  |  @agniavateira  |  @dancingwendigo  |  @living-in-the-darkness | @trippedmetaldetector | @watermeloncavill

If you’d like to be added to/removed from this, please let me know :)

HENRY MASTERLIST.

______

She moves with discomfort, lifting herself and grimacing as she does so, thankful that Henry isn’t present in the room to see because she knows what he’d say.

She thought being locked up with her husband would be good. They’d finally get to spend some well deserved time together, despite the reason that they’re able to do so, and they try to make sure the news is off unless there was a known update that needed them to watch. She found she was becoming agitated the more news she took in and that wasn’t good for her right now. She's logged out of her social media apps and didn’t pay any attention.

Henry on the other hand, kept his on and would update his following as often as he could while trying to spend as much time with her as possible. With the lockdown rules specifying that they could go for exercise for a limited amount of time outside, the two of them would take Kal and get their steps in; with Henry’s competitive nature kicking in and wanting to go that little bit further each time. 50 more steps. 100 more steps. 150 more steps. He would have to beat himself.

With 10,000 steps under their belt, they were making their way home when her ankle felt as though it had buckled beneath her. She felt it turn to jelly for a moment or two and she collapsed into Henry’s side who did not hesitate to catch her. He’d held her close to him as she’d hobbled home, though he did offer to carry her some of the way which she politely declined.

The closer to home, the more her ankle felt as though it was hurting rather than the pangs she’d first had after it happened. She was struggling to put any weight on it, and it started to swell more than usual. Henry had felt it at the time, and put it down to a sprain, albeit a painful one at that. He’d made her sit on the sofa, a footstool beneath her and a cushion (“told you they were needed,” she’d quipped, and he tried to hold back his laughter) for comfort.

Henry has ensured that she’s feeling ok, helping her if she needs to hobble to the toilet and brought drinks and food to her throughout the afternoon. He plumps a pillow and she leans forward; her hand automatically going to her rounded stomach as she does so, allowing him to put it behind her.

“How’re you feeling now?”

“I’m ok, it’s just this.” She leans forward and prods her ankle, “it still feels really tight. I can’t really move it,” she says as she tries to rotate it again but winces.

“Don’t, don’t, don’t,” Henry warns, kneeling beside the footstool, placing the ice he’s brought on the floor and strokes over her foot. His fingers touch her skin so lightly yet pressure perfect. She sighs into it, closing her eyes as he manipulates her foot.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know he’s smiling at her comment. “Seriously, this is heavenly right now. I’m sorry I messed our walk up.”

“Hey, at least it was on the way back, right?” He chuckles as he places the bag of ice on her ankle. His hand smooths up her leg, giving her knee an affectionate squeeze. “I feel responsible.” He admits and can’t look at her.

“Why? It was me being a klutz. This doesn’t help, it throws me off balance.” She comments with mock annoyance but the smile on her face tells another story.

“How’s bump?”

“Bump is fine,” she rubs her hand over her stomach and her smile becomes bigger as she feels the small movements. At 22 weeks, her bump is taking shape and Henry is now starting to be able to interact too. She feels their baby wiggle around whenever Henry speaks or reads to her belly, but their kicks aren’t strong enough yet for Henry to feel or see them.

“You sure?”

“Of course,” she reaches over for his hand, hers looking tiny in his big grasp. “I’d tell you. You know that.”

“I’d hope so.” A brief scowl flutters across his beautiful features before he pulls himself back to neutral. “You know I worry.”

“And I know how well you look after me. I have no reason to hide anything from you,” she says as he brings their joined hands to his lips. “I love you Henry.” She tells him as he moves, handing her the snacks and pulling the coffee table closer so they don’t have to reach as far for their drinks.

“I love you more, and that is why,” he begins as he pulls the other footrest over and positions himself, making sure he’s comfortable, “I want you to get snuggled beneath this, and try to relax.” He pulls the blanket around the two of them and Kal comes to join the two of them, curling himself up in a ball beside her on the floor. “What are we watching?”

“I was thinking, as it’s a comfort kinda day,” she pauses and lifts her finger for him to listen. Heavy spring rain pelts the windows as it has for the past hour or so; sleet is mixed with it and the warmth from the fireplace and the blanket adds to the comfort she feels.

“You want your comfort movie list.”

“I’d like my comfort movie list.” She corrects him, “but I’m open to suggestions.”

“What my wife wants, she gets.”

[fangirlovestuff]

Holding Out for a Hero- Steve Rogers x Reader Pt.11 (epilogue)

a/n-  Hey lovely people! I am so frustrated for taking like 3 weeks to upload this last one, but it was just hard to say goodbye to it I guess. Thank you so much to everyone who read, liked or reblogged - going through this journey with you was amazing! Song lyrics are in bold. Enjoy <3

part 10

"Where have all the good men gone And where are all the gods? Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds? Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Late at night I toss and I turn And I dream of what I need!"

You and Julie sang in sync into the microphones in your hands. Well, maybe screamed would be a better word, but the guys didn't seem to care. Steve and Bucky were sitting on the couch, Bucky with a phone in his hand filming you while Steve simply laughed heartily as you and Jules sang.

You were in the compound's karaoke room, because apparently Tony Stark thinks of literally everything when he plans a building like the Avengers compound. You were thrilled when you found this place, showing it to Julia. Together, you convinced the boys to come with you on a double date to karaoke. Well, it was more like the two of you singing and them laughing and filming you, but you were having a great time.

"I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night He's gotta be strong And he's gotta be fast And he's gotta be fresh from the fight"

You tossed your hair while you sang, gesturing theatrically with your body as Jules did the same next to you.

"I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light He's gotta be sure And it's gotta be soon And he's gotta be larger than life!"

You looked into Steve's eyes as you sang the cheesy song, smiling widely at him. His eyes twinkled, head tossed back in laughter, and his look reflected how you felt - perfectly happy.

Steve and you were going stronger than ever, and so were Bucky and Jules. After a year of dating, Bucky proposed to Julia. You looked over at her, the ring sparkling on her hand that clutched the microphone. She looked so free. Julie often reminded you of a lioness in the way she carried herself, her proud and cheeky personality shining through in her stunning smile. You were glad she finally found her lion. Bucky was filming with a smile on his lips. Around Julia, his laugh was getting easier and easier as time went on, and you were glad to see them make each other happy like this.

Steve was watching you and laughing so hard he looked like he was going to fall out of his seat. You winked at him as you continued your song and he smiled and shook his head playfully at your antics. You felt your love for him shining in your heart, so bright you could burst. You never wasted a chance to express your love to one another. Whether it was words – when you woke up, when you went to sleep, when you were going or returning from a mission or anything in between – or acts, Steve always made you feel loved. Little notes saying "went to train, be back soon, xo" were a common occurrence with you two, and so were hugs, kisses and cuddles. Even as a year of your relationship was close by, you couldn't get enough of each other, and you wouldn't have it any other way. Knowing Steve was a great privilege – you don’t often come by a person who's so smart, kind, funny, and emotionally supportive, and also is Captain America. But loving Steve was a gift you didn’t know if you deserved, but were thankful for every waking moment. Loving Steve was like eating ice cream in the summer, a cozy blanket when it's raining outside, and petting a cute dog all at once. Steve was your safe place, your hero really. Not a day went by that you didn't cherish him in, and the same was the other way around. You fit like two puzzle pieces finally coming together. If a year ago someone would have told you that you were going to date Captain America, you would've laughed in their face. But you were, and there was nothing that could've made you happier.

You finished the song and collapsed dramatically onto Steve's lap, laughing. "Can you get me some water please?" you pouted playfully. "That was a hell of a performance, so yeah, sure." he chuckled. "My hero," you winked as he went away to grab a glass of water, laughing.

Later that evening, you were all sitting in an Italian restaurant, the very same one where you and Steve had your first date. You were all laughing and talking over each other, enjoying the excellent food and even better company. Your dessert arrived, an absolutely delicious looking tiramisu. You were about to dig in before you noticed a sparkle between the cream layers. You prodded it with your spoon, taking in out and discovering a silver diamond ring. You gasped, turning to Steve, who was looking just as puzzled as you felt. You raised your brow at him, and he quickly shook his head. You felt a pang of disappointment. You and Steve never really talked about getting married, but based on Jules and Bucky's engagement, you anticipated a ring coming to you very soon. Apparently, Steve didn't share the sentiment, you noticed as you took in his seemingly mortified face. You swallowed your disappointment and smiled as you called for your waitress.

"There was a ring in the tiramisu that's not ours," you explained to the embarrassed waitress.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! We must have mixed it up with table 4, the poor guy must not understand what's happening. Maybe he thinks his boyfriend swallowed the ring," she chuckled nervously. "Anyway, I'm very sorry and we'll bring you another one shortly, on the house." She smiled at all of you and took away the tiramisu and the ring. Jules, Bucky and Steve were quick to laugh it off, returning to their conversation, but you just couldn't focus. The ring sent you down a very immersive train of thought, about you and Steve and how he might not want to get married, or he doesn’t want to get married to you.

You remained quiet throughout the ride back to the compound, contemplating your insecurities. No one seemed to notice.

You got back to the compound and jumped out of the car. "Good night guys, I think I'm just gonna go to bed, I'm pretty tired." You tried to smile but it came out more like a grimace.

"But we wanted to watch a movie," Jules complained. Bucky's arm was wrapped around her, a united front.

"Well you guys should go ahead, I'm gonna go as well," Steve said, taking your hand in his. He smiled and you returned his smile. Your sadness started to fade into the background, as if telling you that you could deal with it tomorrow. But right now, with Steve's hand holding yours, you felt your heart swell with love. Jules and Bucky were already ahead, but you and Steve took your time, walking slowly into the building and the elevator.

When you got to your floor, you saw a trail of rose petals from the elevator door. You sent Steve a quizzical look, but he shrugged and smiled, squeezing your hand in his. You followed the trail all the way to your room, smiling at Steve before opening the door.

In front of you was a sea of flowers, and you run to smell them, leaving Steve's hand. You noticed Jules and Bucky were also there, smiling widely. You sent them a puzzled smile before you turned around to thank Steve for the flowers, and you found him on one knee, holding a little black box in his hands. Oh.

You gasped, your eyes immediately welling up. "Steve?" you asked, a small smile forming on your lips. For the entire night, you've been thinking about how Steve's eyebrows furrowed when he saw the ring. You thought it was because he'd never thought about getting you a ring, that he hadn’t wanted to. Apparently, it was just because some random mix-up beat him to it.

Steve looked up at you, his eyes shining as well. "Hey sweetheart," he chuckled in response to your question. "You know, before I caught you that day when you jumped from the elevator, I was thinking about how the new recruits are gonna be, how are they gonna find their place around here. And then you landed right into my arms, and you were so pretty I couldn't help but think your place should be there, in my arms, all of the time." He was beaming up at you now.

"Smooth," you couldn't help but comment as you beamed back down at him.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "And then I got to see just pretty wasn't enough to describe you. You are overwhelmingly beautiful, inside and out. You're strong, and smart, and funny. And I thought I could never deserve having you in my arms. You were a shining star and all I could do was watch from the earth as you soared through the sky." Tears started to fall from your eyes as you smiled at him. "But then I jumped; I jumped and you were willing to catch me. Maybe not to be in my arms the entire time, but to hold my hand. And I have never been luckier. I love you," he took a deep breath, "more than words can describe. So, will you make me the luckiest guy in the universe once more and hold my hand forever?" he popped open the box, revealing the most beautiful ring you had ever seen, "Will you marry me?"

You nodded your head so quickly you thought your neck would snap, but fortunately, it didn't. You knelt down next to Steve, wrapping your hands around his neck. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes," you smiled, accentuating each yes with a kiss – to his cheeks, to his nose.

He grinned at you and drew away, taking the ring out of the box and slipping it onto your finger. "I love you, Steve," you touched your forehead to his. "I love you too," he replied, kissing you gently yet passionately, making you feel so loved like only he knew how to. You put your hands on his cheeks, feeling the ring on your finger prominently. You smiled into the kiss, breaking apart but staying close to each other, breathing the same air.

"Congratulations!" you heard a shout from across the room. You turned your head, smiling. You were so focused on Steve's speech you had forgotten Jules and Bucky were still there. Jules' eyes were shining with unshed tears and Bucky was smiling from ear to ear, their phones in their hands. Bucky came forward to clap Steve on the shoulder and embrace him tightly before hugging you, whispering in your ear, "he'd get you the moon if you told him to."

"He's my sun," you whispered back. You pulled apart, smiling at each other, understanding you both love this punk more than anything. Jules hugged Steve, whispering something you couldn't make out into his ear, and then came to you, wrapping her arms around you in a crushing bear hug. "I'm so happy for you," she whispered, her voice wavering with emotion. "Thank you," you whispered back.

"Oh, the pictures!" Jules exclaimed before she reached for her phone. She opened it to reveal a stunning picture of you and Steve; your hands cupping his face, foreheads touching. "Jules," you smiled and but your lip, getting emotional over the beautiful moment she captured perfectly.

Soon Bucky and Jules left you to your own to celebrate, and you did, your night filled with declarations of love and delicate touches.

And years later, the picture was hanging off the wall of Steve's and your house, adorned in a golden frame. You were lucky enough to marry your hero, and love him more and more every day for the rest of your lives.

[melonkooky]

kiss the sun [kim taehyung]

not requested

word count: 4228

genre: taehyung x reader, mainly fluff, with an angsty scene

warnings: mentions of depression, little mention of blood

author’s note: i thought of or discovered the term ‘kiss the sun’ and i was dying to write something about it, so i did. at first it was with hobi, because hobi, but then i changed it to taehyung because the more i wrote, i was like, “this is more like taehyung”. before you read, i’m sorry for any mistakes and inconsistencies 😂😂

please do not copy my work. but please like and reblog it. thank you!!!!

you always enjoyed the sun more than the moon. sure, at night, the moon was beautiful, and you could actually look and admire it without your eyes melting out of their sockets. but the sun. it was ethereal. the sun brought you warmth and comfort. the moon never gave you a sense of security or warmth, instead you felt cold and empty. the sun was your only way of reassuring yourself that you were still alive, that you weren’t numb to everything.

your eyes were closed. you could see the light from the star on the other side of your eyelids, and the warmth you felt made you smile slightly. you felt at peace, content even, that was until something knocked into the side of your face. you were stunned for a moment as pain immediately erupted in your nose and face.

finally, you had the courage to open your eyes, enough to see a young male with wide, fearful eyes running towards you. he was a little blurry in your vision, or perhaps that was because you’d just been knocked in the head by something. “miss? miss? are you okay?” he asked.

you simply stared at him, as if you were incapable of forming words. your head ached terribly, and you couldn’t necessarily think. “hm?” you managed to reply.

then the male was in front of your face, as clear as day. your own eyes widened, but not in fear. it was surprising how hot and handsome he looked. his skin was so clear, sun-kissed, radiant, as the sun shined in front of him. he had removed his sunglasses long ago and was now squinting. his brown eyes found yours before seeming to go to your nose. “i feel so stupid.”

your eyebrows knitted, leading to you to wince when the action made your nose scrunch slightly. the male looked at you with apologetic eyes as he searched for something. “what? why?” you finally managed to say to him, bringing a hang up to your head.

the stranger looked at you, concerned, but also wondering if you were joking or not. he laughed, “miss, i just hit you with a soccer ball.”

you stared at him, “what?”

then he pointed to your nose. “that’s why your nose is bleeding.”

finally you registered everything. “o-oh.” you laughed shyly.

he smiled at you and you blushed slightly.

“do you have any tissues?”

you thought for a second before fishing into your small bag, pulling out a pack of tissues. “i got it.” you said, taking one and placing it underneath your nose.

the young and handsome male remained, sitting in front of you. he turned around after some time, giving his friends a thumbs up. they grinned, sending one back. they had retrieved the soccer ball at some point, passing it around again.

“i’m really sorry.” the male spoke, breaking the semi-awkward silence between you.

“it’s okay.” you said, checking to see if you were still bleeding. you were, but not as severely as before.

“no, i was trying to show off, i kicked as hard as i could and didn’t realize you were directly in my path.”

you chuckled, your laugh sounding nasally. “i was just laying down in the grass, i should’ve been paying attention.”

he laughed. his gaze was on the grass underneath him. he was tugging on the blades of grass.

“you can go back to your friends. i’m okay.”

he met your eyes finally. the way he looked at you made your insides turn, you were blushing again. you laughed nervously. “are you sure?” he asked.

you nodded, which caused your head to throb slightly, but you still smiled. “it’s all good.”

the male flashed a bright, relieved smile on your face. “perhaps you should baske in the sun somewhere else, just in case i try to show off again.”

you laughed with him. you agreed, but you wondered if you shouldn’t. this man was cute, and you found yourself staring at him. you felt as if you wanted to get closer to him. however, at the thought of you actually voicing said feelings to him, you felt embarrassed. you flashed him a smile as the handsome male stood up from his spot in front of you and left. you watched him walk away with a heavy weight in your heart. you couldn’t help but think that you passed up on your chance of getting a boyfriend.

you’ve always felt that way, at least since middle school. you were always the friend that was a second choice, and even then you often found that your then friends enjoyed hanging out with each other, leaving you out. you’ve felt lonely, as in no one would ever choose you. the feeling of emptiness and loneliness had become your closest friend for a while. now you had a few close friends, some that were enough to lift you out from your dark pit, but they couldn’t lift you high enough. sometimes your dark and anxious thoughts got the best of you. nevertheless, they tried to be there for you.

you sighed, the warmth of the sun reminding you that no matter where you were, you were never alone. it was like a hug, only, at this point you were sweating and thirsty.

after sitting for a few seconds, you removed the now dry tissue from your nose. after a few more safety-measuring dabs, you came to the conclusion that your nose was no longer bleeding. you were thankful that it wasn’t broken. how scary would that be… and even though your head still ached, you were alright.

you glanced over in the direction of the kind and attractive male, finding him now joking and laughing with his group of friends. there were seven on them in total, how you wished you had that many friends. all of them were of equal attractiveness, but your eyes kept getting drawn to the one that had accidentally kicked at you. you blushed again at the memory.

finally, you heaved yourself up to your feet, grabbing your bag. you’ve had enough sunshine, now it was getting hot.

—

you came back to the same park the next day, this time it was to do some work. you were an aspiring writer, specifically wanting to go into young adult fiction. you enjoyed actually writing things in a notebook, and if you liked it, you’d type it. you put in some earphones and picked a summery playlist to listen to.

a few minutes into your little work session, something tapped against your knee. you took out an earphone as you noticed that it was a soccer ball. immediately, your heart began to beat faster and your stomach twisted. could it be?

you looked up finding him again. he was alone, and seemed to have intentionally kicked the ball towards you, only this time much, much softer. your eyes widened as you realized he had waved and was now walking over to you.

you hurriedly put everything down and took out your earphones. he was already sitting down when you brushed your shirt with your hands and adjusted your hair. sweet laughter filled your ears, causing you to turn your head and finally look at him.

“good morning.” he said.

his voice was soft, like the blanket you were sitting on.

you blushed, smiling slightly. “good morning. what a coincidence finding you here.”

“is it really a coincidence?”

you looked at him while he flickered his eyebrows up and down. you grinned, shaking your head. “you came alone today.”

he shrugged. “yeah, i didn’t tell my friends where i was going.”

“oh?”

it was his turn to laugh this time. “yeah.”

you studied him, his side profile. you could see the side of his eyes underneath his sunglasses. his prominent cheekbones seemed to reflect the sun as they shined. his jawline looked extremely...kissable? you were going to say sharp but your thoughts just had to trail down that road.

“so what’s your name?”

you nearly choked on air. “my name? it’s y/n.”

“y/n.” he repeated quietly, nodding his head. “i’m kim  taehyung.”

“taehyung.”

he laughed a deep laugh. his voice was unexpectedly deep, you noticed this when he first spoke to you yesterday. he was surreal.

“what?”

“nothing, nothing.”

taehyung asked, “how’s your nose and head doing?”

“fine.” you replied, “my head still kind hurts but my nose is swell.”

you both shared a laugh. “is it anything that ice cream won’t help?”

you looked at him. “are you asking me as a date?”

he had seemed to confident before. but after asking him that, taehyung’s back slouched as he sat up. before he had been resting back on his hands, his legs kicked out in front of him. now his legs were crossed underneath him while he seemed to anxiously rub the back of his neck. his cheeks mimicked your red blanket.

“is that a yes?”

“does it change your answer?” he asked you, nervously looking over at you.

you anxiously chewed on your lower lip. after pausing slightly, wanting to tease him, you finally replied, “no.”

taehyung blew out a relieved breath. “fine. perhaps it’s a date.”

you grinned, cheeks aching from your smile. “ice cream sounds great.”

minutes later you were back at your spot, sitting on your blanket. you had your favorite ice cream in a small cup while taehyung had a cone. you and him ate silently, that was until taehyung asked you, “what were you doing?”

“what do you mean?”

“that notebook you had in your lap, before i walked over.”

“oh, it was just...stuff. i like to write. ”

“oh cool. that’s fascinating.”

you blushed. “yeah.”

taehyung flashed you a box-shaped smile, and it drew your eyes to his lips. he was so handsome, cute even.

“do you come to this park a lot?” you decided to ask him, with the intention of getting to know him better.

taehyung licked his ice cream, shrugging slightly. “actually, our first time was yesterday. we usually go to another one, but one of my friends moved to a new apartment nearby so we decided to check it out. it’s a nice park. what about you?”

you were a little insecure about your answer because you weren’t sure what he’d think if he learned your came everyday, if the weather was nice. after a little contemplation, you realized he was waiting for a reply. so you decided to go for it. “uh, i come here almost everyday actually.”

“oh, really?” his smile seemed to grow. “so hypothetically if i came back here tomorrow, you would be here?”

you looked at him, quite surprised. just yesterday, you were thinking of the encounter, and thinking that you’d never talk to him again, much less see him. and yet here he was, having asked you on an ice cream date, and asking if he’d see you tomorrow. your heart was close to beating out of your chest.

“i mean, yeah, yeah,” you laughed, “i’ll be here.”

he grinned, cheeks and smile reflecting the sun once more.

—

just as he said he would, taehyung found you in the same spot at the park. this time you had spent majority of the morning cooking. you thought you and him could have a picnic, if he actually came. luckily he did. your heart would be broken if he didn’t.

you and him ate your food. he often complimented you. taehyung was genuine. you could tell he wasn’t joking or lying so that it didn’t hurt you. he genuinely enjoyed your cooking. hearing those words made your heart pound, and your confidence to skyrocket.

you and taehyung also talked a lot, getting to know each other. he liked to make you laugh by being goofy and making jokes. and when he successfully made you laugh, you wouldn’t catch him smiling fondly and staring at you.

after two hours, taehyung complained that he was roasting. you could see little droplets of sweat race down his cheeks by his ears. you couldn’t meet his eyes for some reason.

“how can you stand it?” he said while fanning himself.

you pulled apart a small bite from your bread, only you didn’t eat it.

“i like the sun.”

taehyung, noticing your change in tone, looked at you with concern (and worry, worried he might’ve said something wrong that made you upset). he didn’t say anything. instead, taehyung waited for you.

“i like the sun because it reminds me that even when i’m in my darkest moments, there’s always light, that i’m not as alone as i feel.”

taehyung felt his heart crack. to learn that you sometimes weren’t mentally healthy broke him. he’s had moments like that himself, and he could remember the feeling of wanting someone there.

taehyung looked away from your eyes. he looked down at your hands, how you were turning that little piece of bread over and over with no intention of eating it. he felt the urge to hold it, to caress it, to kiss it and tell you that it was okay. that he was there now. but it was only the third day. it was too early for that.

taehyung would wait for you.

you suddenly laughed. “sorry, i didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

taehyung shook his head. “no no, it’s totally okay. i didn’t mean to upset you or anything.”

“anyway, i just like the warmth of the sun. it’s comforting. i know it gets hot but some times i don’t even think about it.

“do you get sunburnt at all?”

you met his eyes, laughing as you nodded. “sometimes i forget the sunscreen.”

he laughed alongside you.

—

for two months, this continued. you and taehyung would often meet at the park, but he also took you to places. lots of dates happened at restaurants, stores, the city, one happened at an aquarium, one happened at an amusement park.

you and taehyung were in love.

he was becoming the sun in your life.

unfortunately, just as things in your life were moving in the right direction, just when you thought you were healing, you woke up in your bed, not wanting to move. you felt like weights were holding you down.

you thought you were doing better. you had been hanging out with taehyung so much, and then on a day when you and him didn’t plan on meeting, you felt tired, socially and emotionally drained. why was is it that you felt this heavy weight of loneliness and depression when you’ve been seeing taehyung? how did that work?

perhaps it was a thought, a thought that came so quickly yet hit you so hard. what if you and taehyung don’t last forever? what if this is just a quick fling for him, when to you it felt like a forever kind of love? you were so in love of him, head over heels. the thought of him not talking to you hurt you. you didn’t want to think about, him leaving you behind, but that’s all that seemed to occupy your mind.

you felt warm tears prick your eyes. this always happened. you feel better, happy, as if you were climbing out of the dark hole all by yourself. but you slip, or maybe intentionally let go, and fall into the darkness again.

you wondered if you should head to the park. the sun would be there, that’s for sure. but you weren’t even in the mood for the sun. that was unusual. you didn’t have the energy to leave your apartment, much less your bed.

you glanced out of your window. you hadn’t closed it all the way last night so a tiny sliver of sun showed through, casting onto your bed. you reached your hand out to feel it’s warmth. it was something, somewhat comforting. but it wasn’t enough.

just then, your phone began to ring. you considered ignoring it. it was still relatively early in the morning, they could think you’re still asleep. but your gut told you that it would do you good, that you needed to answer.

you reached over for your phone, unplugging it from its charger. it was taehyung. you wiped away any remaining tears, taking a deep breath to calm your beating heart. you cleared your throat before answering, bringing your phone up to your ear. “hello?”

“y/n!” he exclaimed excitedly.

you were a little shocked that he was calling you.

the corners of your mouth twitched, tempted to smile at how excited he sounded, but how long would that last with you?

and there the tears were again. you tried to hold them back. taehyung didn’t need to know. they were just silly insecurities.

but he must’ve heard your breathing, the little whimper in the back of your throat.

“y/n?” he called your name in a gently and concerned tone.

“hm?”

“are you okay?”

you could hear how worried he’d become. he had been happy one second, and now he was serious. his tone of voice, his deep, comforting voice, caused your stomach to twist. he had asked the very question you were hoping he wouldn’t ask, because you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop.

“no.” you finally admitted, your voice barely audible through the phone.

you heard taehyung move around, seeming to grab some keys. “what’s wrong?” he asked. “do you want me to come over? i’m coming over.”

you shook your head. “you don’t need to. it’s fine.”

“it’s not. please don’t hide from me.”

your heart cracked, aching in your chest.

“please don’t push me away.”

his tone of voice, he was practically begging, and it was causing you to hurt even more.

taehyung kept you on the phone until he arrived at your apartment. he knocked three times. you didn’t feel like getting out of bed but taehyung didn’t have a key to your apartment to let himself in. it had only been two months after all.

you hauled your body up, sighing as you left the comforting warmth of your sheets and bed. you walked to your front door and opened it.

taehyung was panting on the other side. you recalled him running while talking to you.

then, unexpectedly, with no warning or greeting, he pulled you into a tight hug. and you broke down. “i’m sorry.” your voice was muffled.

taehyung lightly pushed you forward into the apartment, kicking the door shut with his foot. he never let go. “don’t be sorry.”

his warmth was soothing. it was like the sun was hugging you, only this time, it was an actual human being, with skin and bones with warmth. it wasn’t just some star millions miles away. this was kim taehyung.

after a few minutes, you had calmed down and pulled away, wandering into your bedroom. it was slightly a mess but after crying in front of taehyung, that was the least of your concern. you plopped down onto it, you face feeling puffy.

you sighed.

taehyung was a little nervous being in your bedroom but he was worried about you. he climbed on top of your covers and laid down next to you, watching you. “do you want to talk about it?”

you hesitated. “i’m scared.” you began. “i’ve always been the second or last choice for someone. i’ve never been the best friend. i’ve been the one that gets pushed out or left behind. i’ve been the one that everyone said, ‘ew. not her.’ taehyung, i’m scared that with you i’m going to be forgotten, left behind, unloved. i can't help but think that this isn’t going to last, and it scares me. i hate it.”

taehyung didn’t say anything as you turned onto your side and curled into a ball. he stared at your form, wondering what he should say. however, instead of speaking with words, taehyung scooted closer and wove his arms through yours, wrapping them around your torso. other than hugging, this was the most intimate you’ve been with him, and to say the least, it was taking your mind off of things. the young male cuddled into your back, conveying that he wasn’t going to forget you or leave you behind. the way he held you seemed to push away most of your negative thoughts and feelings. it was as if he’d place a blanket of relief over your shoulders.

you didn’t want to cry again, but you felt the waterworks. taehyung lifted his head up, “y/n.”

you laughed, music to taehyung’s ears.

you turned around in his arms, facing him. he was blushing just as much as he was at the close proximity of your faces. you placed your hands under your head as cushions as you stared at him. “i’m not crying because i’m sad. i’m just thankful that you’re here for me.”

taehyung grinned. he felt relieved that he was doing a good job. “what do you say we get out of the house?”

you quirked an eyebrow up to him. “and go where?”

“hmm, the park?”

you rolled your eyes, but smiled widely.

moments later, taehyung waited in your living room while you changed into other clothes in your bedroom. taehyung was patient with you, something you really admired. and when you stepped out, he stared at you and smiled, “you look beautiful.”

you hadn’t even tried, but taehyung’s compliment sparked a little blush in your cheeks. you presented a shy smile to him as you crossed the room. “shall we go?”

you and taehyung walked alongside each other towards the park. however, a few minutes into the walk, you had the courage to hold him hand, the type where you lace your fingers with his. couples do that, right?

the surprised yet flustered look taehyung tried to hide from you caused you to laugh.

finally, you picked a spot underneath the sun. taehyung didn’t complain, although he did eyeball a good spot underneath a tree. you sighed contently as you felt the sun’s warmth on your skin. you needed this, taehyung knew you needed this. he knew you liked the sun, he just hoped he could make you as happy as the sun did.

you and taehyung hadn’t let go of each other’s hands. you and him sat down together with them interlocked. sure, it was growing hotter and both of your hands were becoming clammy, but that didn’t bother you or him.

taehyung decided to lay back, pulling you down with him. there was something different about laying underneath the sun, compared to sitting underneath it.

no words had to be said between you. the moment was comfortable, light, warming even. you turned your head, leaves and grass crinkling and rustling underneath your hair as you did so. you admired his side profile. his eyes were closed, his skin radiant and golden in the sunlight. he was shining like the sun, absolutely stunning.

“are you staring at me?” he asked, opening an eye.

you blushed and looked away. “perhaps.”

taehyung grinned, laughing slightly. then he turned and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “you’re adorable.”

you gasped and blushed at the action, and taehyung simply proudly smiled. he seemed unfazed, as if you had simply imagined that he’d kissed your cheek. it had happened fast.

you wondered if you get him back. so after a few minutes of doing nothing, hoping that he wasn’t expecting you to retaliate, you practically turn your entire body and press a kiss to his cheek, your lips smacking in the process.

taehyung flinched but grinned. he was scared by how fast you moved. you laughed loudly, proud of yourself for getting him back.

“is that how it’s going to be?” he inquired.

you knitted your eyebrows in confusion. “what do you mean?”

then taehyung sat up, keeping an elbow for support on the ground. you didn’t know what he was doing until his free hand gently held your face, the skin by your ear and jawline burning underneath his warm, soft skin. your eyes were wide when he pressed his plump lips to yours, but you quickly melted into it.

the rather intimate kiss was slow. taehyung must’ve been taking his time, trying to taste you, to feel you. you had forgotten you were in the middle of a park, a children friendly park. it didn’t matter, not with the intensity of this kiss, the heat and love and passion that erupted from it. but taehyung pulled away, lingering slightly. “do you know how long i’ve been wanting to do that?”

you blushed, looking straight into his dark eyes. “for a while?”

he pursed his lips, nodding.

“not gonna lie,” you said, smirking, “i felt like i was kissing the sun.”

taehyung smiled down at you, caressing your cheek bone with his thumb. “good.” was all he said.

the man above you did not hesitate to kiss you again, this time a lot more harshly. you couldn’t get enough of him. you finally felt complete with him. taehyung’s lips conveyed all the right messages to you, that he was just as in love with you as you were with him, that he was going to be by your side as long as you want him to be, that he was going to love you until the ends of the earth.

[officerrxyes-inactive]

Eager, Young, and Starry-Eyed

(read on ao3)

Summary: When Carlos is asked to participate in the annual football game for his police precinct, TK is more than willing to come cheer him on. The afternoon does not go quite as they expect it though... (sorry I suck at summaries) 

Note: Beta-read by my fave person @terramous 

Title from “Late July” by Shakey Graves... it really has nothing to do with the story itself but I’m so so obsessed with this song and I just needed to use it as a title so.

TK was never that interested in sports. His dad had tried to get him into playing or at least watching any sports game with him when he was younger but it just never stuck.

But when Carlos told him about the annual football game that he was participating in for his police precinct, he couldn’t help but share in his excitement. Watching his attractive boyfriend run around on a field in a tight shirt, all hot and sweaty? He didn’t even have to think twice before agreeing to come cheer him on. 

Which is how he found himself sitting on the bleachers under the hot Austin sun in a local park.

He tries his best to follow the action on the field. Carlos had mentioned the game was just a friendly competition and from what he could tell, he was right. The players don’t seem to be taking the game too seriously. Instead of the aggressiveness among players TK was used to seeing when he would watch games with his dad, the players have been laughing and teasing each other throughout today’s game.

As for his boyfriend, TK did not have to understand the game to realize Carlos was playing incredibly well. In just the first half, he had worked up quite the sweat. He knew his boyfriend had played football in high school, having found his letterman jacket hidden in the back of his closet. However, when TK confronted him about it, Carlos failed to mention how good he was at the game. 

And now, seeing the little beads of sweat on Carlos’ forehead glisten in the sun was enough to make TK’s mouth dry. He could not wait to grab the other man by his wet curls and kiss him as soon as the game was over.

Every once in a while, Carlos glances over to him and gives him a smile that makes TK’s heart flutter. Who knew football was so much more fun to watch when the man you love was playing?

He was so lost in thought of how hot his boyfriend looked that it took him a few beats to realize that said man was no longer running across the field but was now curled up on the ground, surrounded by his teammates. 

Immediately, TK stands up, his heart pounding in his ears. What happened? Why wasn’t Carlos getting up?

He tries to suppress emotions and his racing thoughts but when another thirty seconds pass without Carlos making any move to get up, he can’t stop himself from making his way down the bleachers, toward the field. He pauses for a second at the sideline, wondering if it is okay for him to be on the field. But he quickly pushes that thought aside and makes his way over to Carlos. This is his boyfriend lying on the ground, clearly hurt. If anything, TK can at least try to push aside his emotions and put his training as a first responder to good use. 

As he gets closer to Carlos, he recognizes a few of the faces surrounding him, having seen them when he meets his boyfriend at the station or on calls. They must recognize him too because as soon as he gets close enough the crowd starts to part, allowing him to reach Carlos. Either that, or the worried look on his face is enough for them not to question who he is.

“Hey,” he says, kneeling down next to Carlos, “I didn’t see what happened. Are you okay?”

When Carlos looks up at him with a tight expression and jaw clenched so hard that the vein in his neck stands out, he gets his answer. Carlos is clearly not okay.

“Got tackled and my knee gave out,” Carlos winces and manages to grunt out.

TK’s heart breaks seeing the man he loves in such clear agony. He’s been with Carlos long enough to know the man has a high tolerance for pain and will often try to hide it, insisting that he is fine. The fact that he isn’t even bothering to conceal his emotions at this moment sets off quite a few alarms in TK’s head.

“Do you think you can stand so we can get you off the field?”

Carlos gives a small, unsure nod, and TK extends his hand out, trying to take on as much as the other man’s weight as he can. He slings the injured man’s arm over his shoulder and one of his teammates does the same on the other side, allowing Carlos to be practically carried off the field.

Once they hobble their way over to the sidelines, TK eases Carlos down onto the bench. He then takes a seat next to him and gently brings the other man’s right leg up to elevate it so he can take a closer look at it. He lightly touches it only to pull away when he hears Carlos’ sharp intake of breath. With how tender his knee is, TK can’t help but worry. It’s not looking good.

“Do you guys have any ice?” TK asks, directing his attention to the teammate who had assisted him in getting Carlos off the field. 

The other guy nods and hurries off before returning with a fresh bag of ice that TK gingerly places on Carlos’ knee.

“How’s your pain? One to ten?”

“Eleven. I think it’s my ACL,” Carlos grits out.

TK can feel his heart breaking all over again. ACL tears are never a good thing. If Carlos is right, he will likely be out of commission for a while. 

“Maybe not, it could just be a bad sprain.” TK suggests, trying to hope for the best.

“No, it is. I’ve done this before. With my other knee.”

“What? Carlos!”

“It’s what ended my football career in high school.”

Did Carlos really just say a knee injury is the reason why he stopped playing football? “Then can you please explain why you thought it would be a good idea to participate in the game today?”

“I told you it was just a friendly competition. I didn’t think it would be too rough, and I was told that the odds of my re-tearing my ACL was low.”

“Well were you ever informed that the probability of tearing the ACL in your other knee was higher? Around nine to twelve percent actually.” TK knows this is not the best time to throw statistics in Carlos’ face but his boyfriend needs to understand that what he did was reckless and preventable.

Carlos just looks at TK, pain clearly laced in his eyes as he bites down on his lip.

TK takes a breath. As much as he worries about his boyfriend and knows this could have been avoided, it happened nonetheless. And now they have to deal with it. “We need to get you checked out at the hospital. Do you think you can get over to the car or do you want me to call for an ambulance?”

He shakes his head. “It was embarrassing enough to get hurt in front of my co-workers, I don’t need to run the risk of Michelle finding out yet. She’s never going to let me live this down…” He pauses for a second before continuing, “I think I can make it to the car and you can drive.”

“Well I kind of figured I would be the one driving,” TK chuckles but stops when the joke falls flat.

TK loops his arm around Carlos, this time taking on the other man’s weight alone, and they make their way towards the parking lot.

---

Lucky for them, the emergency room was near empty and Carlos was able to be taken back right away. After an initial examination by the doctor which proved just how tender and swollen his knee was, he had been sent back for an MRI.

Now he was back in the room, waiting with TK anticipating the results. TK couldn’t help but notice how miserable his boyfriend looked sitting on the hospital bed, icing and elevating his right knee. He had traded in his sweaty t-shirt and shorts for an uncomfortable light blue hospital gown. The scowl on his face confirmed that Carlos would prefer to be anywhere else but here.

He exhales at his boyfriend's lethargic state. 

This gets Carlos’ attention, who turns and meets his eye. “What?”

“I know this sucks but you don’t have to look so sad.” TK tries to hide the small smile forming on his face. He can’t help it at the sight of the adorable pout of Carlos’ lips.

“I’m glad my pain is amusing you,” Carlos says as he looks away from the other man.

TK just stares at his boyfriend. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Before Carlos can respond, their soft banter is interrupted by Carlos’ doctor knocking on the sliding glass door.

“I have the results for your scan,” he starts off. “I’m afraid our initial prognosis was right. There is a tear in the ACL of your right knee.”

TK doesn’t fail to notice the look of disappointment that washes over Carlos’ face upon hearing the news. He leans over and grabs his hand before giving a small nod to the doctor to continue.

“Now, taking in your occupation as an active police officer I would highly recommend surgery to repair the tear. It would require quite a bit of physical rehabilitation post-surgery, however it would guarantee you can get back out in the field in top shape. I can’t say the same for going with the non-surgical option, but that is still on the table if you would rather take that route.”

“I’ll do the surgery,” Carlos states without hesitation.

“Are you sure you don’t want to think about it?” TK asks, slightly taken aback by Carlos’ quick answer. He knows his boyfriend is anxious to return to work but this is a big decision and should not be taken lightly.

“I need to do it, TK,” he says, giving him a reassuring look before directing his attention back to the doctor. “I want to do the procedure.”

“Okay, well in that case I have an opening for you two weeks from today that we can schedule you for. And in the meantime, we’ll get you fitted with a brace and crutches. Try to take it easy until then and continue to ice and elevate until the swelling goes down.” 

Carlos nods and looks at TK, giving him a small smile. The same smile that made his heart flutter just a few hours ago, now under different circumstances but having the same effect. His boyfriend was going to be just fine.

“Careful baby,” TK says while holding the door open for his boyfriend who was hobbling behind him on his crutches. His knee was now safely secured in a tight black brace. Though if the look on Carlos’ face was any indication, it was still causing him quite a bit of pain. 

“Yeah, I got it,” Carlos grunts as he makes his way through the door frame.

TK just sighs. He knows his boyfriend is determined to do everything on his own but he’s mistaken if he thinks TK isn’t going to mother hen him for the next few months until he is fully recovered.

He watches Carlos ease himself onto the couch, elevating his knee and letting his crutches fall to the side. 

Making his way over to the kitchen, TK grabs a fresh ice pack for his boyfriend before joining him on the couch, delicately placing the ice pack on Carlos’ knee.

“How are you doing?” TK asks, concern clear in his voice.

“My knee hurts.”

“I can’t fathom why it would. I meant mentally, how are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” Carlos says, averting his gaze away from TK.

TK pulls on his hand to get his attention. “Hey, talk to me.”

“I guess I’m bummed because this won’t be an easy recovery, and I really want to get back to work but I know that won’t happen for a while.”

“How do you feel about the surgery?”

---

“I’m a little nervous… I mean I had the same procedure when it happened but this time it’s different. I was in high school then. Now, I don’t know,” he pauses to gather his thoughts. “The stakes are a little higher I guess.”

“Well, you agreed to it very quickly,” TK adds on.

“Yeah, TK, because I know if I want to go back to work, that’s my only option,” Carlos quickly fires back.

“Listen to me,” TK says, looking at his boyfriend seriously. “You’re allowed to be more than a little nervous about it. It’s a fairly big procedure. And yes, it will take a while to recover but I’m going to be here every step of the way to take care of you. Mentally and physically.”

Carlos looks up at him softly before snuggling into TK’s side. “Have I mentioned how much I adore you?”

“Did I mention how hot you looked today, all athletic?” TK bites on his lip, the urge from earlier in the day to grab his boyfriend by the curls coming back just as strong. “Yeah some athlete I am,” Carlos says, gesturing down to his knee brace.

TK just smirks. “Well have I mentioned I find sports injuries pretty hot too?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Carlos chuckles. 

TK smiles and cups the other man’s cheek. “Yeah but you love me anyway.”

They smile at each other before leaning in, pressing their lips together for a passionate kiss. 

[lowritesthings]

Resonance

Part 2 of ?? << Previous // Next >>

You’re finishing your day at the Leaf House when it happens. The kids are just stacking freshly-cleaned dishes from supper when Ms Folia drops her coffee mug in the next room. It shatters and you dash over to keep the younger kids away from the shards of porcelain, but she grabs your arm and points to the old television. It’s tucked into a corner and has terrible resolution, but you make out signs of chaos and fire.

“It’s a bombing,” Folia tells you in an unsteady voice. “Someone bombed Mako Reactor One.”

Your lungs seem to freeze, and that chill spreads through your whole body. You watch as Shinra reacts exactly the way Cloud had predicted they would, and now you notice how the response is just a little too quick to be spontaneous.

Is Biggs okay? You force yourself to take a breath, then another one. He had Tifa’s ex-SOLDIER friend with him...they’ll be alright. All of them.

You’re trying to convince yourself, but you know that you won’t be able to stop worrying until you see the whole team.

The kids are watching the TV now too, and some of the younger ones are crying. This probably has more to do with the fear on the adult’s faces than the images on the screen, as scary as those are. You finish cleaning up the broken mug and gather your personal belongings, intending to run to the train platform and head straight to Seventh Heaven...but you check the urge. You showing up half-panicked isn’t going to help anything. You’ll only scare Marlene and amplify Tifa’s own fears. The team probably won’t be home for a while yet. There’s time to finish your duties here before you make your way to the Sector Seven undercity.

“This is just...how could anyone do something like this?” Folia asks one a dazed, horrified tone. She’s followed you into the kitchen. You have to bite back your knee-jerk reaction, which is of course to defend Avalanche and its operatives. Instead you shake your head and spread your hands.

“I guess they felt there was no other way,” you say. Folia makes a face but before she can argue, you press on: “We should get the kids ready for bed. I think it’s best if we keep the routine as normal as possible, especially for the younger ones. It will help them feel safe.”

“Yeah,” Folia says as the wisdom of the suggestion sinks in. “Yeah, okay. Let’s gather them up.”

It seems to take forever to get the kids settled in bed and to turn over with the night staff. The house mother lives there full time, but most of the rest of the employees switch off between day and night shift. You’re just grateful that this week, you’re on day shift. You collect your bag, glad that you’d been carrying your first aid kit with you ever since the Shinra raid on Seventh Heaven. Then you make your way to the train station and hope your anxiety won’t seem out of place.

Once the train stops in the Sector Seven slums, you make your way through crowds of shell-shocked residents gathered around grainy TV screens. All of the conversation you overhear is about the bombings, and you concentrate on your breathing to soothe your own fears. You keep picturing your friends dead or badly injured, so the breathing exercises help keep you grounded. Letting your imagination run wild won’t help anyone.

The stairs up to the bar are empty, so you push open the door to the building. You can hear Barret talking to Marlene through the wall. He seems to be trying to convince her to go to bed. He sounds calm enough, which helps to convince you that nothing is catastrophically wrong with anyone on the team. You set your bag down and glance around for Tifa, but she isn’t here.

Ten minutes later, Barret emerges from Marlene’s room. He catches sight of you and your medical bag.

“Hey girl,” he says. “Guess you heard?”

You laugh, though it still sounds a little tense. “I think all of Midgar heard,” you reply. Your fingers tighten in the fabric of your bag as you ask, “The team?”

“I think Jessie’s leg is gonna need your tender love and care,” he tells you, but a huge grin is spreading across his face. He clenches his fist in a gesture of victory. “Other than that, we got a couple scrapes and burns, but it’s Shinra that got hurt bad today!”

You can’t help but smile back at his unbridled enthusiasm. Relief floods through you as you realize that none of your friends are badly injured.

“I better swing by Jessie’s and take a look at her leg. Where’s Tifa?”

“She took her pet merc up to Stargazer Heights.” Barret is behind the bar, digging out a cold beer. “You need a place to stay?”

You nod. The last train has come and gone, and you don’t fancy your chances against the monsters between here and home, at least not without backup.

“Well, if Tifa can’t put you up, you can crash in the hideout. You know how to get in?”

You nod. Wedge had shown you once after you’d had to go down there to help Barret with a broken leg.

“Good, guess I’ll see you in the mornin’. Thanks for seeing to Jessie.” Barrett’s hand comes down on the top of your head and he ruffles your hair. “We owe ya.”

You wave that off. “No talk of debts, okay? Just keep bringing everyone home safe. See you tomorrow.”

You head out into the night. There are less people out now, but the ones that are stay clumped into groups. You get a suspicious look or two, but you’re familiar enough around town that no one bothers you.

Even though it’s out of your way, you swing by Bigg’s house before heading to Jessie’s. The light blazing through the curtains comforts you. No doubt he’s in there getting cleaned up and having a quick meal. You long to knock, but it’s late and Jessie’s the one that needs help.

Just as you continue toward Jessie’s, his door opens and Biggs steps out onto the doorstep. A blush immediately floods your cheeks—you would get caught lingering around his house like a creep. But when he spots you, a smile spreads over his face.

“Making your rounds?” he asks, gesturing to your bag.

“I—yeah, I was just heading to Jessie’s. Barret said she hurt her leg.”

“I’ll walk you.” He locks his door and comes to your side. His hair is still damp from his shower and he smells deliciously clean against the backdrop of polluted air. “I was just gonna go see if Tifa has anything edible at the bar. I’m not much of a cook and the pantry is a bit bare.”

“There might be food, but if you don’t hurry Barret will drink all the beer,” you tell him. He laughs, and you can tell his mood is jubilant. The mission had been a success and he’d survived—you bet he’s feeling far too amped to go to sleep.

“Guy probably has a tab taller than he is,” he quips, and you grin at the mental image of Tifa unrolling a huge list of Barret’s debts to the bar.

“He’s lucky Tifa’s such a softie,” you agree. “Is Wedge okay?”

“At home snuggled up with his cats,” Biggs confirms with a nod. “He didn’t even get singed.”

“And you?”

He stops and spreads his arms so you can see for yourself that he’s not hurt. “What, you think I’d be the weak link? Oh ye of little faith.”

You laugh and shove him a little. “A bomb went off in your vicinity. I’m allowed to be concerned.”

“Well in that case...I’m honored,” he says, and his smile softens into something more personal. Your pulse throbs and you automatically run through calming techniques before you say something embarrassing.

You continue walking to Jessie’s. Your pace is slow, almost meandering, because you know when you get there he’ll say goodnight and head to the bar. It’s rare you get moments alone with him and you’re savoring this one, but a guilty corner of your mind reminds you that your other friend is hurt and you should really get a move on.

“Sticking around until morning?” Biggs asks as you reach Jessie’s.

“No trains,” you explain. “I’m going to take advantage of Tifa’s hospitality if she isn’t too busy with Cloud. If she is, I’ll crash at the hideout.”

“Ah, good. Glad you’ve got a place to stay. You know, if you ever need to—my door is always open.” He rubs at the back of his neck, flustered in a way you’ve rarely seen him before. He almost seems bashful. “Just an option. It’s more comfortable than the hideout, anyway. I’ll even be a gentleman and take the couch.”

You grin at him. How can someone be so sexy and so adorable at the same time? “Thanks. I'll keep it in mind.”

You both look over at Jessie’s door. It’s time to say goodnight, and you let out a long, internal sigh. You wish moments like this could last longer or come around more often.

“Well…” You turn back to Biggs. “Thanks for walking me. I’ll see you soon?”

“Count on it,” he tells you. He hesitates, almost seems to lean toward you...and then he checks himself, gives you a little wave, and turns to jog off toward the bar. You watch him disappear into the darkness for a moment, then you spin around and lift your hand to knock on Jessie’s door.

It swings open before you make contact. Jessie is standing in the doorway with a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. She rolls her eyes at you when you meet her gaze. “Could you two be any more pathetic? All the longing glances and lingering goodbyes...it’s cavity-inducing.”

You try not to stick your tongue out at her...and fail. You also fail to stop the blush that creeps into your cheeks. “If you want decent painkillers, you’ll be nice,” you warn her, and she laughs and steps aside so you can come in.

Her leg isn’t too bad. There’s a deep, tender bruise and some bloody scrapes, but nothing requiring any serious treatment. You clean the wounds, wrap her leg to keep any swelling down, and hand her some painkillers and ice packs.

“You know the drill,” you say to her as you pack up your supplies. “Elevate it, try not to put weight on it if you can avoid it, and don’t over ice it.”

“You got it, doc.” Jessie leans back in her bed and stretches her arms up over her head. “So, about Biggs—”

“Oh no,” you say, waving your hand in front of you to ward her off. “None of that. You blew up a mako reactor tonight, that’s got to be more interesting than my love life.”

“You’d think...but you’re just so cute when you blush, I can’t help it!”

“Jessie, please? I really don’t want to be teased tonight. I know I’m being ridiculous.” You sigh. “I can’t seem to help it.”

“Would it help if I told you I think he’s interested too?”

You groan even as your hopes shoot sky high. “No,” you say firmly. “Now take your pills and get some rest. Maybe you can give me a hard time tomorrow.”

She winks at you. “Oh, that’s happening for sure. Come to the bar and have a drink with us. We’ve still got to celebrate.”

“I’ll think about it,” you tell her, but you both know you‘ll turn up. You wish her goodnight and head out, turning toward Stargazer Heights. It’s time for you to get some rest as well.

——

Waking up at Tifa’s had been a bit disorienting, but she heads out early so you get the tiny bathroom to yourself. There’d been some sort of commotion during the night and Tifa had rushed out, but it quieted down quickly and you had decided not to ask.

You step out into the sunshine and catch sight of Cloud making his way down the road to the bar. Perhaps you should too; Biggs isn’t the only one with an empty pantry. Tifa must eat most of her meals at the bar or nearby shops.

You head down the stairs but only make it a few steps before Marle calls out to you.

“What do you know about this Cloud guy?” she asks you.

“Next to nothing,” you admit, “but Tifa’s known him a long time.”

“Hmmm…” Marle’s lips purse. “Should we trust him with her?”

You remember his quiet but very serious threat to the Shinra squad leader. “He seems pretty protective of her.”

“But will he break her heart?” Marle demands. “He seems like the nomadic type. I don’t want her to count on him only for him to disappear one night without so much as a see you later.”

You frown a little. “I guess we’ll find out,” you say slowly, “but I think he’s going to stick around, at least for now.”

You bid the old lady goodbye and continue down the lane toward the bar, but change your mind at the last minute. Instead, you grab breakfast from a nearby shop and decide to head back to Sector Five early. That way no one will protest too much when you cut out early to join the gang for a celebratory drink later.

You start for the train station. Just as you round the corner, you spot Wedge heading in the opposite direction. You smile as he approaches: his friendly, cheerful attitude is always welcome.

“Hey, morning! I didn’t know you were in our neighborhood,” he says to you as he jogs over.

“Good morning and congratulations,” you counter, smiling at the look of pride that comes over his face. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

He pats his chest and shakes his head. “Me? No way, nothing even came close.”

You smile wider at his bravado. “Where are you headed so early?”

“Oh, me and Biggs are on watch today. I just hope it's not too busy, I’m still running on empty from yesterday. If you’re gonna be around, you should stop by.”

It’s a tempting thought, but you shake your head. “I’ve got to head back to Five, but I’ll be at the bar tonight to celebrate. Would you mind letting Tifa know I made it home okay when you see her?”

“Sure thing, pal!” Wedge gives you a thumbs up and then a quick hug. You have to jog the rest of the way to the station to make your train, but it’s worth it. It’s hard to feel anything but happy and comfortable around Wedge, and that’s not a bad way to start the day.

Next >>

[ren1327]

Taken Everything Ch.1

-November 2020-

The table was set with white plates and crystal glasses filled halfway with rose wine. It was the sweet kind with hints of watermelon he liked so much.

The plate had still steaming crab cake, asparagus and a leafy salad with the dressing to the side. A favorite meal of his.

“Do you like it?’ The man across the table asked him. “I know you don’t care for the regular Thanksgiving feast.”

“I love it.” He said softly. “It smells amazing.”

He cut a piece of the crab cake and hummed as he let it melt on his tongue, chewing slowly before swallowing. The man across from him smiled, pleased.

“What have you been up to today? Do you want more books? More journals? More paint?” He asked.

Ben looked at his lap.

“No. I’m good.” He said, smiling softly at the man. “And I just drew some dogs I saw on tv. I can show you if you want.”

The man smile widened. “My sweet Ben. Have you finally stopped fighting me?”

He knew better than to say no.

He never hurt Ben. Never laid a hand on him. Never lost his temper in front of him. But he would stop talking to him, leaving Ben alone for long periods of time in his room; the bathroom door gone, the shower curtain and rod gone, the mirror removed and timers on the automatic sink and tub drain.

The camera lights from their high corners would blink their little red lights to show they were watching him. And they always blinked when the man was away. He would bring him food, but never speak to him. Giving him no stimulation. No entertainment beside the mattress and windowless white walls, the lights never dimming.

And Ben would beg to be let out after only two days. He would do whatever was asked of him. Happily.

Ben looked down at his ankle where a thick metal cuff hung as not to irritate his skin.

“I won’t take that off.” The man said. “Not for a bit. It’s for your safety, My Ben.”

“It’s fine.” Ben said hollowly. “I understand.”

“…finish your food for me?” He asked. “I don’t want you to get malnourished. I can’t bear to see you in pain.”

“Yes, Kenji.” Ben said and raised his fork again.

 *

 -November 2019-

Ben watched as they lowered his mother into her grave. Sammy held him close to her as Darius placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Ben.” He said. “If you need—”

“Thank you. Darius.” Ben grit out, trying to hold back his tears. “I think I need some time to process this…”

“Ben…” Sammy said as Ben walked away from the grave.

He wiped at his eyes and took out a paper, seeing how much he stilled owed for his mother’s hospital bills and now the funeral. He knew he could cover most of it if he used his savings.

His mother deserved to be put to rest.

He sat on a stone bench and checked his phone, seeing a message from his boyfriend Jeremy.

“Meet you at home.” He read out loud and sniffed softly. “My mom died. Why couldn’t you come?”

He got to his feet and walked to the bus stop.

The ride was silent. He ignored people and they largely ignored him. He was invisible.

When he reached his crappy one bedroom apartment he shared with Jeremy, he felt exhausted just unlocking the door and seeing his boyfriend lounging on the sofa, drinking a beer.

“How did it go?” He asked.

“Fine.” Ben said.

“Did you get anything?”

“We used everything on her treatment.” Ben said. “All the money was used to pay off the—”

Jeremy threw the bottle, Ben ducking out of the way and covering his head when the bottle shattered on the door. He stayed on his knees as Jeremy stalked past him, slamming the door as he went off to who knew where.

Ben let out a sob and covered his face. He cried for hours, and when he woke up, among glass and stale beer, Jeremy hadn’t come back.

 *

 -November 2020-

Ben accepted the fingers that combed through his freshly washed hair.

“There we go. Better?” Kenji asked as he placed a comb down.

“Yes, thank you.” Ben said softly and smiled at Kenji.

“Would you like to sleep with me tonight?”

“…” Ben looked at his lap.

“I get it. You’re not ready yet. But I promise I won’t touch you. Not like that. Not yet.” Kenji said, kissing his forehead with soft, dry lips.

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course!” He said, delighted at Ben’s answer. “I swore to you. I would never hurt you.”

“…Can we watch another movie together?” He asked, knowing it would calm Kenji.

“Of course. What would you like?” He asked.

“Something with animals? A documentary?” He asked, feeling a bit better when Kenji’s shoulder relaxed.

Kenji leaned down and Ben closed his eyes, giving him silent permission to kiss him. He felt his lips again and pushed slightly into him, making him believe he was accepting of the affection despite the numbness he felt.

He lifted his arms and Kenji picked him up like a bride, Ben leaning his head on Kenji’s shoulder as he walked him to the living room, his bound ankles swaying slightly.

Kenji sat him on the sofa and Ben waited patiently as he untied his ankles and stood. He looked at him a moment before walking to the next room to get blankets. Ben shivered in his clothing.

He was given soft loungewear, short sleeved shirts and shorts, and slippers. Not allowed anything more or less, as Kenji always feared Ben could hurt himself. Blankets use to be only allowed when Kenji was home and could get to him. Now, he had gained enough trust to have them and a few more luxuries.

At this point, Ben knew better than to run. He wasn’t strong or fast or smart enough to escape.

So he tucked his feet up under him and leaned on the sofa arm.

When Kenji returned and saw him relaxed and waiting, he tilted his head with a smile.

“Hold me, Ben?” He asked.

Ben opened his arms and Kenji hugged him, nuzzling into his chest. Ben hugged back and closed his eyes.

He was warm, he was loved, but still so empty and scared.

 *

 -November 2019-

Ben sat alone at the diner, in a corner where no one would bother him.

Jeremy had come home. Angry.

Angry about not having enough money. Angry at his job. Angry at life. Angry at—

Ben winced as he touched the skin swelling around his eye.

He wanted to take the bus to Sammy and Yaz. To Darius or even his old teacher’s apartment.

Somewhere to hide away until Jeremy calmed down.

But they would ask questions. They would demand to know. They would hate Jeremy. They would say Ben had to leave him when Jeremy had done so much for him.

Jeremy had paid attention to him. Had been there when his mom’s chemo failed. Had taken his mind off the sadness. Had held him throughout.

But once his mother had taken her last breath, he changed.

He wanted to know where the insurance was. What had she left him? Did his family leave or send him anything?

And Ben had been open and honest.

His mother had no family and he never knew his father. He was just alone trying to get as much money as he could for college working at a flower shop.

And Jeremy…

Ben looked at his glass of water with a frown.

He loved his boyfriend, right?

A plate was placed before him and he gasped when he saw it was a veggie burger and sweet potato fries.

“Um, I didn’t…” His stomach growled and the waitress placed a glass of sweet tea next to the plate.

“Another customer asked us to send you a meal. Said you looked so alone and sad, that a hot meal might help.” She said, an older woman who often waved at Ben when he would visit. She looked at his eye and made a face, then smiled.

“He was real handsome. No ring and some fancy clothes.” She said with a wink.

Ben looked around.

“Sorry, Sugar. He bought your meal right before he left.”

Ben smiled and looked at the plate. The sweet potatoes had salt and extra pepper. The veggie burger most likely was dressed with mustard and had no tomatoes. The bun was the cheap honey wheat they offered but he loved so much. And even the tea had two lemon slices and only half ice like he preferred.

“I’m surprised he knew all the details of your order.” She said and walked off.

Ben froze and stared at his food. She was joking, right?

Right?

  Ben walked back to his apartment to find Jeremy asleep on their bed.

He took a duffle bag and filled it with as much of his things as he could. There was a room for rent right across from his shop and he would beg the owner if he had to.

He had to get away.

 *

 -November 2020-

Ben moved closer into Kenji’s body, sleepily seeking out his warmth.

Kenji had been stroking his back, lulling him into a daze as lion cubs played on screen.

“Are you tired, my Ben?” He asked.

Ben nodded into his collar bone, feeling the other shiver as he exhaled on the warm tanned skin.

Kenji cupped the back of his neck and Ben could feel the larger man’s heart thudding through his ribcage. Ben had never felt that from another person before.

His nerves died down, and he took advantage of this lull in his anxiety to kiss Kenji’s chin. He felt the heart speed and he moved to kiss Kenji’s neck.

Kenji gasped and clutched Ben’s hips. He surged forward, kissing Ben, who welcomed it this time. He pinned Ben on the sofa and started kissing the right side of his face, Ben moaning sleepily.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you!” He chanted as he kiss Ben’s neck, cheeks, lips, nose.

“Kenji.” Ben moaned softly. “I changed my mind.”

Kenji wasted no time lifting him and taking him to his bedroom.

Kenji’s bedroom had a tv, a plush sofa, an empty desk with a flat bolted down lamp, two shelves full of Ben’s favorite books and even newer additions to certain collections, the bathroom had no door still, but a rainfall shower with thick plexiglass and a large tub that could fit four people. The bed was what was most impressive. A four poster with a high luxury mattress and piles of fleece blankets and plush pillows.

Kenji laid Ben in bed, leaving only to lock the door and the windows that overlooked the sea.

Ben still couldn’t believe he was still here.

The mansion was a beautiful creation of dark wood and white brick. It sat right beside a cliff where a grove of trees had flourished along with long feather grass. The cliff had a wooden deck and wall keeping people from falling to their deaths, but from Ben could tell, no one had ever fallen.

Kenji’s father had jumped.

Kenji forbade Ben from going to the back yard or deck. And when Ben looked at the greyish blue water, Kenji would sweep him away or call the house phone to suggest Ben do something away from the sea that took his parents.

Not that Ben could. As he was always bound by the chain and cuff around his ankle when Kenji was at work or busy in his office.

Trapped by a man living off his parent’s wealth and not having to do anything but go into a fancy building and sign papers. His fortune was enough for several lifetimes, perhaps even enough to fund, care for and pay for college for at least three generations.

But he hadn’t want anything.

Until he saw Ben, he had said.

Ben remembered that night. In snippets and flashes. Screaming and limbs pulled taunt. Yelling and—

He broke out of his thoughts when Kenji’s door locked.

Ben laid on his side, watching his captor.

Kenji never initiated sex. Even when Ben tried to use it to gain favor and escape, he denied it.

“You’re not ready yet.” He’d coo and kiss his cheek.

But he always pulled Ben close, spooned him, kissed him, touched his body. But never under clothes or more than light rutting before Kenji excused himself to the bathroom. And Ben would will his body not to react to Kenji’s moans and groans and his name being called softly.

He felt Kenji lay next to him, pulling him close into his bare chest. Ben pressed a sallow pale cheek to Kenji’s skin.

“I love you, Ben.” Kenji whispered a final time as Ben fell asleep, fighting between the feelings of being secure and knowing he wasn’t yet safe.

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

Here’s the first chapter of Taken Everything. 

I’m sorry, I’m a little tired, so please enjoy while I nap.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Roguish Women Part 1 *Tommy Shelby*

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

82 Boulevard de Clichy

Paris, France

1925

The Moulin Rouge.

           The city of love. A city of lights and illusions. A city where one could lose sight of their troubles. A city where one could hide in plain sight.

           “Monsieur Shelby!” A plump man with a red face greeted the men at the door. He was dressed in a scarlet-colored suit and Tommy couldn’t help but think how the man would stick out like a sore thumb in Birmingham. But in Paris, he fit in like he was one of the landmarks. “Bonjour, bonjour, welcome to the Moulin Rouge.”

           The Peaky Blinders were there for business. Not the cabaret, but Paris. A man had contacted Tommy some time ago, asking to negotiate about importing car parts and subsequently firearms with a little bit of cocaine to sweeten the deal.

           Conversations over the telephone were held until the man invited Tommy and his brothers to seal the deal in person. None of the Shelbys had been back in France since the War. It caused a knee-jerk reaction of disgust but it was a big deal that they couldn’t pass up.

           Paris was nothing like the countryside they fought on. The city was electric and it was hard to believe the city had faced the same war only a few years prior.

           “There is a table upstairs for you, Monsieur Dugas is waiting.” The man ushered the Blinders into the crowded venue. Tables crowded around a massive dance floor where a group of girls was putting on a show. Beautiful women wearing elaborate costumes covered in frills, gemstones, and feathers. Their outfits shimmered in the spotlights, a far cry from what would’ve been deemed appropriate only a few years ago. Shorthaired and hiking up their skirts, these girls captivated the audience, hypnotizing the men who dared glance their way. How could they look away from women dancing in such outfits?

           Arthur and John were positively chuffed at the display and jostled each other as they climbed the stairs to the second level. The promenade that overlooked the dance floor was a bit tamer. Tables were set up against the railing allowing people a good view of the stage below. A bit quieter than the main floor, it was the perfect place for their meeting.

           A man stood up when he saw the entourage approach. “Monsieur Shelby, thank you for joining me.”

           “Mr. Dugas.” Tommy nodded politely and shook hands with the businessman.

           “I trust you had a pleasant trip over from England?” The well-dressed man sat, gesturing for the rest to sit as well.

           John and Arthur took a seat, leaving Finn and Isaiah to stand as guard though the younger men were distracted by the women around them.

           Martin Dugas was a businessman to the core. Every drop of blood in his body was dedicated to the trade. Whether or not the things he did were legal wasn’t the issue.

           A waiter arrived with an ice-cold bottle of champagne, letting Dugas inspect the label. “Gentlemen, champagne? Then we can talk business.”

~~~~~~~~~~

           A deal was settled within the hour. Although his brothers were keen to drink through the entire negotiation process, Tommy kept his wits about him. He wasn’t going to let a wild environment and French champagne cloud his judgment. But once the deal was made, the two men shook hands to confirm. Contracts would be signed the next morning.

           Once the ink on the contract began to dry, Finn and Isaiah to go mingle with the entertainment. Tommy waved them off with his hand, letting them have their fun. He wasn’t interested in the women at the cabaret, he was there purely on business and wasn't going to get caught up in the lights of the club.

           “Whiskey, Tom. You can relax.” Arthur handed his brother a glass. “Got everything you want, din’t ya?”

           Tommy nodded but he couldn’t help but scan the scene around them. John already had a pretty brunette perched on his lap and was flagging a waiter down for another whiskey. A woman clad in a corset and fishnets was giggling at every word Finn and Isaiah had to say, causing the men to practically drool all over her.

           “Need to take a walk,” Tommy muttered. Standing up, he stubbed out his cigarette and went for the stairs. Pushing his way past a few partiers on the stairs, he made his way down to the first floor.

           There were about a dozen girls on the dance floor, dancing to the live music that was loud enough to make the venue tremble. Some of the women on the dance floor were beckoning to men, luring them out to dance with them. Tommy ignored a few propositions to dance and continued towards the exit.

           Tommy passed by a group of young men, most likely a stag party. They were all sloshing drunk and hollering at one of their mates who was doing his best to keep up with one of the dancers. It briefly reminded him of how he and his brothers once were. When they were younger and hadn’t been broken by the war. They often spent long nights out, getting drunk and high. Trying their best to win over the prettiest women at the bar.

           Despite only walking past them, he caught a glimpse of one of the men grabbing roughly at the woman. A flash of discomfort crossed her face and she made a move away from him.

           The party booed and taunted their friend. The man on the dance floor egged on, kicked out one of her heels bringing the woman to her knees in front of him.

           Tommy heard her yelp of pain, a sharp contrast to the large brass section blaring away. The arrogance made something snap inside of Tommy and he wasn’t about to pretend he hadn’t seen anything.

           The Blinder pushed past the stag party and out onto the dance floor. “Oi!” He barked.

           The man who had grabbed a fistful of the woman’s hair, startled at his shout. A clueless look passed over his drunk, glazed eyes. He said something in French but it was lost to the music.

           Tommy grabbed him by the collar and spoke two words that he assumed the man would understand. If he didn’t know the words, he’d be able to translate the tone. “Fuck off.” He spat and shoved him back towards his friends.

           The stag party began to act up again, shouting some angry words in French and making steps towards Tommy. But the Blinder quickly squashed their outrage by flicking open his coat and showing them the pistol in his holster. The flash of a gun was enough to make the drunk men hastily retreat.

           The young woman was trying to get up off her knees. One of her hands went to her hair, the other resting on the filthy wood floor. She watched as a pair of shoes stopped in front of her. They were expensive, shined to perfection, and waited patiently.    

           The dancer looked up with tears in her eyes to see the man who saved her. Her knight in shining armor. Although he wore an expensive suit instead of armor. He had dark hair and stunningly cold blue eyes. He silently reached out a hand to her.

           Shaking, she took his hand and allowed him to help her stand. “Merci.” She whispered.

           “You’re welcome,” Tommy answered in English so she was aware he didn’t speak fluent French.

           “You’re British?”

           His forehead wrinkled in mild shock when he heard her accent. “You’re American?”

           She nodded and let her hand slip from his. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

           “Are you hurt?” He asked.

           The dancer looked down at her heels. “I may have twisted my ankle but it’s nothing to fuss about.” She shrugged.

           “Can you walk?”

           She forced a smile. “Don’t need to walk. Just need to be able to dance.”

           “Can you dance?”

           “I have to unless I want to be fired.”

           He frowned and glanced around them. “Won’t be fired while I’m here. C’mon, there a room you can sit down? Somewhere quieter? Maybe get you some ice for your ankle.” There was no room for negotiation in his tone.

           Since he was a patron, she was supposed to give him what he wanted. And if he wanted her to go sit in the back room while he fetched her ice, then who was she to deny him?

           “We can use one of the dressing rooms.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           After Tommy retrieved some ice from the bar, the dancer led him to the back hallway. Although the music could still be heard and felt through the walls, it was much quieter behind the scenes. There were many dressing rooms, able to hold about ten girls at a time, but there was only one that was empty. Costumes and props were scattered around cluttering the space. Women rushed around the mess trying to get ready for an upcoming act.

           Tommy helped the woman onto a chair and grabbed a towel left hanging by a mirror. He poured the ice into the towel and tied it up like a sack before pulling up a chair and setting it up in front of her. “Set it up here. Need to keep it elevated ‘fore it swells.”

           She obeyed quietly and let him gently place the fashioned ice pack onto her ankle. “Thank you…”

           “Shelby, Tommy Shelby.”

           “Thank you, Mr. Shelby. You’re much kinder than other men I’ve met.” She leaned down to remove her heels.

           “Are you going to tell me your name too or are you meant to keep that secret?” He pulled out his cigarette tin and offered one to her.

           “Some girls take aliases.” She admitted. “My name’s Kate though.” She let him light the cigarette.

           The two sat in silence for a moment, smoking and stuck in their own heads.

           “So, what’s a girl like you doing here in Paris, aye?” Tommy wondered.

           “I uh…” Kate made herself busy by fussing with the ice on her ankle and fixing her hair. “My father had debts and they were after my family. So I came here to get away from that life I was just a dancer at home. A ballet dancer.” Her green eyes lit up with joy when she mentioned her passion. The love she had to leave behind. Still, the joy was short-lived. “But I wasn’t making any money so I came here. They pay better and well…dreams aren’t meant to pay the bills, are they?”

           “Are you not just a dancer here?”

           She laughed bitterly, the joy instantly leaving her eyes and leaving behind a residue of bitter disappointment. “We aren’t dressed like this for fun, Mr. Shelby.”

           He nodded in understanding. “They made you a whore.”

           “I prefer the term courtesan but I suppose it’s no improvement.” Kate sighed and tilted forward. Twisting an arm back she tried to loosen the laces of her corset so she could breathe a little easier. “So, Mr. Shelby, if you’re British then what are you doing here?”

           “Business.” He replied. “Ordinary business.”

           Kate studied his appearance. The man clearly had wealth. He wore a three-piece suit that looked either nicely tailored or custom made. But there was something about the look in his eyes that gave off an air of danger. It was unlike Kate had ever seen in the eyes of a wealthy man. It was evident that he wasn’t someone who inherited his money or struck it rich by chance. He’d worked hard and it had paid off. It was still too early to tell how he’d acquired his wealth. “I meet a lot of businessmen in my line of work.”

           “I can imagine.” Tommy was sure that hole-in-the-wall brothels were much cheaper than the cabaret. “How about politicians?”

           She let out a nervous laugh and shrugged. “I’m not supposed to say. They expect confidentiality.”

           A glint of mischief formed in his blue eyes. The spark of youth that diminished the dark circles under his eyes. “Royalty?”

           “If you must know, there was a prince. But that’s all I’m able to say!”

           He chuckled and took another drag of his cigarette. “How long d’you think it’ll be before things die down with your family in America?” He wondered.

           Kate’s face fell. “I don’t know. My father didn’t tell me how much he owes. 'Sides I doubt he'll ever be able to pay it off.”

           Tommy had often been on the debtor’s end of things. Bars and businesses that were well behind what they owed to the Shelby Company. When it warranted a visit, he sent his brothers or sometimes went himself. If violence was necessary, then they could be violent. It didn’t bother them much.

           In a moment of weakness, Kate unleashed some pent up frustration. “I’m just sick of being here. I make more than I did at home but I’m still barely getting by. The city is so expensive. I feel like I ought to be living in a penthouse for the amount I’m paying for rent. And I can’t ask for help from anyone. I don’t have any family or friends here. They’re so awful to me here, call me stupid an-and worthless. I’m just so alone and I…” Her eyes met Tommy and she realized she was venting to a complete stranger. “I’m so sorry.” She snapped back into the calm demeanor she was meant to have in front of patrons. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

           It occurred to Tommy that he most definitely caused people to flee their homes. Whether it be because of their own mistakes or those of their family member’s, it didn’t matter. The Peaky Blinders had a violent reputation and it was enough to send people running for safety. Safety, but perhaps a worse off situation than before. Hearing Kate air her grievances made him step back and think about the people he’d displaced. “Will you return to America?” His voice quieted as if muted by the thoughts overwhelming his brain.

           “I’m not sure.” Kate tried not to think about the future. It did her no good to hope for something that might be so far away. “I’d like to return to a ballet company if I’m able to.”

           Tommy’s fingers tapped nervously at his knee. He was getting the urge to do something that was a little unorthodox even by his own standards. Guilt stirred up in his stomach as he thought about the families he might’ve separated in the past. “I may have connections in America. If I were to pay off your father’s debt, I could find you a place there.”

           Kate’s eyes widened. “Mr. Shelby that is…” What could the man possibly want in exchange? She couldn’t even imagine what he would proposition next. “I’m not sure what you’d like in return but I…I don’t know if…”

           “Nothing in return.” He promised coolly. “Consider it a favor to pay forward in the future.” He gestured with his cigarette.

           Every bit of her body wanted to launch forward and seize the opportunity. But it seemed too good to be true. And she knew she couldn’t return to America. “I appreciate that, Mr. Shelby. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to go back to my home for quite some time. I’ve burned too many bridges and have too many enemies.”

           It was suspicious that a beautiful woman would possibly have one enemy let alone multiple ones. “What sort of enemies?”

           She peered at him with reservation. “Enemies of my father. Why do you ask?” When he simply shrugged, she began to pick up on his game. “You’re not just a normal businessman are you?”

           His facial expression didn’t flinch at all. “I assure you I meet the definition of a businessman.”

           His blunt response made her laugh. “I’ve met my share of gangsters, Mr. Shelby, you can’t fool me.”

           The corner of his lips turned up ever so slightly. “What sort of enemies, Kate?”

           She adjusted the ice on her ankle and tugged her knees closer to her chest. “Hand me that coat?” She requested instead of answering.

           Tommy glanced over his shoulder to where she was pointing. There was a rack of clothing that was waiting to be adorned for the enjoyment of men. Glitter outfits trimmed with fringe that went longer than the skirt hemlines. Elaborate garments with intricate beading and laced with feathers. A careful design that would be lost in the bright lights and under the stares of leering men. Tossed over the rack was a deep navy blue coat with gray fur lining the collar. He handed it over to her, watching as she draped it over her fishnet-covered legs.

           Kate finished her cigarette and instantly reached for another one. She needed to relax and the conversation they were having didn’t help. She held out the fresh cigarette for Tommy to light.

           He obliged, still awaiting her response.

           But she kept him in suspense, taking a few drags. The proper façade of a showgirl. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Italians in Chicago.” She leaned an elbow on the back of her chair, reclining slightly like a centerfold flapper dream. Smoke curling around her bobbed blonde hair. Her eyes framed with kohl and lips painted a dark red.

           “I am.” He answered.

           “And the Irish in Boston.”

           Again, Tommy nodded.

           “Let’s just say I’ve had my run ins with them both.”

           “Enemies of your father.”

           “Correct. They like to use family members against you.” She smiled bitterly and shrugged.

           Tommy studied her face but she wasn’t letting much on. There was something unsettling about her backstory but who was he to question it? If anything, a possible informant could be useful if she knew more than she was letting on. “Anything damning you might know?”            

           She laughed and wagged a finger at him. “Are you trying to loosen my lips, Mr. Shelby?”

           He didn’t smile but instead nodded. “You don’t want to be here.” He waved a hand around the dressing room. “You know you deserve more respect than what you get here. If you’ve got information I can use, I’ll compensate you well.”

           Kate tilted forward as if her interest was piqued and narrowed her eyes. “What sort of compensation?”

           “You name the price.”

           There was a slight break in her calm demeanor. A tell of vulnerability. The prospect of leaving Paris with a substantial sum of money in her pocket was alluring. She wouldn’t have to spend each and every night trying to attract attention. Try to pretend she was in love with strangers just so they would pay her more. She chewed on her lip for a moment. There was a chance the information she gave would be traced back to her. The information Tommy wanted could possibly uproot her secrets so she needed to be cautious. A misstep could cause her the life she built in France to come tumbling down in an instant. “I know some names.”

           “Names aren’t good enough.”

           Kate wrung her hands together. To the average onlooker, it might appear that she was nervous about giving information because it could threaten her safety. Instead, she was nervous because she was lying about who she even was. “I know bootleggers. People my father pissed off.”

           If Tommy had been careful enough, he would question how the woman knew so much or who her father was. But he was drunk. Drunk on the possibility of information he could use to build his empire. Perhaps get more gin smuggled in. Buy more property. Expand the company worldwide. He pointed his cigarette at her, his lips turning up in a smile. “Now you’re talking.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Tommy helped Kate out of her fur coat upon entering the hotel suite. The luxury of the ornate room wasn’t new to her. She had spent plenty of time in lavish rooms being spoiled by expensive food, fine wines, and Egyptian cotton. The black, white, and gold embellishments of the Art Deco style was familiar to her. She was used to the light of glittering chandeliers and passing by her reflection in the many mirrored surfaces.

Although the expensive decor wasn’t any comfort to Kate. Not when she had to fake affection and love. In fact, the atmosphere of hotels had begun to make her nauseous. She knew what was awaiting her.

But it still wasn’t exactly clear if those were Tommy’s same intentions. He had expressed interest in what she knew but not her services. Still, he was a man. A man who had become accustomed to the finer things in life and that no doubt included expensive courtesans.

Kate had changed out of her stage costume before departing with Tommy. She left under the guise that he was an expensive client who wanted to take her somewhere a little more intimate. To complete the appearance, she left in a seductive jade colored dress. The one made of silk that left little to the imagination and had a scandalous open back.

Tommy noticed this very quickly as she walked over to the sofa. The silk shifted with every movement, clinging to her body and revealing the curve of her hips. He cleared his throat and hung her coat up on the rack by the door. He was careful to maintain his appearance of business by leaving everything on but his coat. This wasn’t a situation to be comfortable with. He still knew very little about this woman.

“Drink?” Tommy asked while moving to the liquor cart by the large windows. He looked down on the lights of Paris still sparkling in the night.

“Do you have wine?” Kate settled on the plush sofa, grateful to be off of her sore ankle. She reached down to take off her heels and inspect the area. Luckily there didn’t appear to be much swelling.

“Merlot.” He answered after inspecting the lone wine bottle among the liquor.

She made a face. “I prefer Chardonnay. Don’t particularly like red. I’ll just have gin.”

Tommy poured her a glass of gin and whiskey for himself. He walked over with the glasses and set them down on the table by the sofa. He took a seat across from her so they could talk.

“Do you have someone back in England, Mr. Shelby?” Kate wondered. It seemed unfathomable that a handsome and wealthy man like himself wasn’t married. But perhaps he’d simply taken off his wedding band while he was in the Moulin Rouge. Some men did that, some didn’t seem to care and left them on. Kate wasn’t sure which was a worse sin.

Tommy’s mind went to the blonde barmaid he left behind in Birmingham. Grace had captured his attention but it had been a long while since he’d allowed himself to succumb to love. He hadn’t opened his heart up since he lost Greta. But he was getting dangerously close to that territory with Grace. “I’m not married.”

“Hm.” Kate didn’t remark on his answer. But it led her to believe there was someone. It was anyone’s guess why he was keeping it a secret.

“Tell me what you know about the Americans.” Tommy redirected the conversation.

She took a drink of the gin and grimaced at the taste. “I don’t understand why Europeans like their gin so bitter.”

He crossed his arms over her chest and stared at her. For a moment, he doubted his decision to bring her back to the hotel. She could’ve been reading his reactions and telling him what he wanted to know. Could this all be a ruse to get something out of him? Blackmail? Maybe she wanted a free ride to England or even back to America. What if she didn’t know anything?

Kate raised an eyebrow at his expression of displeasure. “Are you always so serious, Mr. Shelby?” She asked.

“I asked you a question.”

“And I asked you a different one.”

Tommy’s jaw tightened. “I’m not here to play games. Either you know something or you’re wasting my time.”

Kate looked slightly amused despite his intense tone. “I grew up in South Boston. They call us Southies. There’s a group there that runs all of the bootlegging operations.”

“The Gustin Gang.” Tommy nodded as this wasn’t news to him. “I’m aware. I’ve done my share of research.” It was necessary to do such investigations if he was really going to expand overseas.

“Then you’ll know that they’re weak. Easy to take over if you’re strong enough.” Kate leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “But if you’re so smart, Mr. Shelby, then you won’t need my assistance.”

He balked a little. Yes, he knew about most of the active gangs that controlled the smuggling operations on the east coast as well as Chicago and Detroit. But he didn’t have enough intel to know how they operated or what their weaknesses and strengths were. “I brought you here to give me information.” He replied without explicitly saying that he needed her help. Admitting that would only give her power.

“There are Italians in the North End, lots of them. It doesn’t matter what city you’re in, Boston, New York, Chicago, the Irish hate the Italians and vice versa. Neither of them like to share control. They’re looking for allies, strong allies.”

Tommy considered what she was saying. It was much like London, various gangs all pushing and shoving each other for a larger piece of the pie. Would the Americans find a relationship mutually beneficial? Could he even trust them? Could he trust that Kate wasn’t looking out for her own interests?

“That’s very vague.” He responded.

Her confident demeanor wavered a little. “Well, more in-depth information could get me in trouble. I don’t want to risk that for a man I don’t know very well.”

So they were at a stalemate. Both of them standing with their backs against the wall so neither of them could stab the other when they weren’t paying attention.

“You were in the war,” Kate concluded.

He eyed her for a moment before nodded. “Yes.”

“Where?”

“Here. Northern France.” The break in the conversation gave Tommy a chance to find his cigarettes and light one.

Kate watched him. Each movement deliberate and firm. He was a man who hid his weaknesses well. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have any. All men had a weakness. So did women. “You must hate America for coming so late.”

His blue eyes didn’t meet hers as he lit the cigarette. “There were many people to blame. I’ve got more important things to deal with now.”

Little did he know, the woman in front of him had been through trauma. No, she hadn’t been in an active battlefield but she’d fought her own personal wars. Came across enemies who were ruthless. Suffered enough to warrant building up her defenses.

Tommy decided to throw her an incentive. He wasn’t there to talk about the war. “You want to get out of here. If you can’t go back to America would you want to come to England.”

Although she perked up, Kate was suspicious about his intentions. She hadn’t given him enough information to warrant a reward. He’d been vague about his relationship status. Maybe he wanted to bring her along as some sort of toy. “I don’t want to be a whore.” She replied. “Not here, not in America, and not in England.

“What else are you good at?” Tommy replied callously even though he didn’t intend to come off so harsh.

She scoffed, her eyes widening in disbelief. “You mean what am I good at beside fucking men?” Her voice was incredulous.

“I didn’t-”

“I’m not an object, Mr. Shelby, I have plenty of redeeming qualities. Or do you have your head so far up your own ass that you can’t see that?” She demanded.

He subtly rolled his eyes. The woman was testing his patience. “Are you using me?”

“Are you using me? ” She retorted.

Another stalemate. Neither of them looked away or softened their glare. It was as if the world had never seen such a dramatic clash of personalities. A mysterious woman who held valuable information, although it was questionable how she acquired it. And a man who wanted nothing more than to rule an empire but had severely lost his trust for others.

Kate decided to break the tense silence. “Mr. Shelby, you must understand that I fled America for a reason. I’m not looking to stir up the pot again and have them out for blood. They have no issue sending men to come and find me. If I give you information that can be traced back to me, then I have a problem.”

Tommy prided himself on being a good judge of character. He rarely trusted anyone that was outside of his immediate family. It was easy for him to pick up on tells that someone was lying. And he saw the hint of fear hidden behind Kate’s slate-colored eyes. He cleared his throat and stood up to pour himself another whiskey. “Say I were to trust you. You gave me the information I want and in exchange, you come to Birmingham with me. I can give you work at my company. Legitimate work.” He clarified before she argued with him again. “If your information checks out and is valuable, you’ll be compensated. And if there’s a threat on your life, you’ll be under the Peaky Blinders’ protection.”

Kate fidgeted and was a little uneasy with the proposition. But it was the only lifeline she had to get out of Paris. She had men promising her large sums of money before. Enough cash to leave the Moulin Rouge and find a life of her own. But they were hollow promises that were never kept. They promised to bring her home and provide her with everything. But what was expected from her in return made her sick.

Tommy could be holding out. Maybe he would break his promise once he got what he wanted. Maybe he would bring her to Birmingham and still treat her like a whore. Still, the walls were closing in on Kate. She didn’t have another option. It was a calculated risk, but it was a risk for Tommy as well. Maybe that was why she stood up and reached out to shake his hand. Sealing the deal.

//This is cross-posted on AO3 and Wattpad. Anywhere else is not my account. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts

Permanent Tag: @sansajonsastark​

Masterlist

[s-nebul0sa]

Who needs a hand when they have a hero

Read on AO3

Her hands tremble and she can barely get her phone out of her pocket. It takes her some wiggling around and several pained attempts before she has a good hold on the device and can get it in her hand.

Halfway through bringing up her contact list, Lena realises the car engine is still running. Briefly forgetting the entire reason she’s sitting in the car, panic rushing through her entire body, she reaches out her free hand to cut the engine. With a pained yelp she pulls her hand back, cradling the throbbing fingers to her chest as she softly curses herself in between sobs.

She tries to fight the tears, but it doesn’t work. Her hand is aching so much and she doesn’t know what to do. She can barely think.

Deep breaths. In.... Out.... In.... Out.... she reminds herself. When the worst of the throbbing as receded and her hand is no longer hurting so much she can’t think of anything else, her thoughts drift back to her phone. She was trying to call someone.

First things first, though. With her good hand she cuts the engine.

Next, she picks up her phone again and looks up Kara’s contact information. She’s still trembling slightly as she presses the dial button and brings the phone to her ear.

“Hey Lena,” Kara greets enthusiastically but with a little surprise. Lena knows she isn’t one to just call out of the blue.

So as not to worry Kara, she tries to keep her voice steady and strong.

“Hey.”

She does not succeed. Even to her own ears her voice sounds small and frail.

“Lena? Are you okay?” Kara’s entire tone of voice has changed. From happy surprise to extreme worry.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lena breathes out, “I just kinda tried to clean up some stuff and fell off a chair and on my hand. I tried driving to the hospital, but I can’t. My hand hurts really bad,” Lena admits shakily.

“Where are you now?”

“I’m at home in my car.”

“Can you go back inside? I’m gonna leave here now and come over.” Lena can hear Kara start packing through her phone.

“Okay, yes. I can do that.” With her hurt hand still held close to her body, Lena fumbles to get the door open with her other. Her phone is clamped between her ear and shoulder.

“I think you should also call Alex,” Kara suggests. “She’s a lot better at this medical stuff than I am.”

Lena takes a deep breath. Kara’s right. Alex is the one with a medical background. She should’ve probably called her first. It’s just, she’s more comfortable being vulnerable with Kara. And even then, it’s just out of sheer necessity. She’s desperate and she needs help. If she could’ve managed to drive herself to the hospital, Kara probably would have never known how much this is rattling her.

“I can also call Alex for you, if you’re not comfortable.”

A sad smile graces Lena’s lips at how considerate Kara is. More tears slip out. It means so much to her Kara is trying to help her so much, even with the simple things.

“No, thank you. I think I can manage.”

“Okay. I’m leaving now. Are you back inside? Will you be okay?”

“Yes. I’ll call Alex.” Lena closes the door behind her and sits down on the kitchen floor. She doesn’t feel too well and sitting on any surface higher than the ground seems like a risk she isn’t willing to take. She feels too likely to fall off.

“Call me when you’re done calling Alex so you don’t have to wait all alone.”

“Okay,” Lena says softly before ending the call.

She takes a few fortifying breaths to try and feel a little more steady. Her head is starting to hurt too, a dull throb in time with the one in her hand though that is much sharper.

The phone call with Alex is much more down to business. Lena’s instructed to find something cold, preferably an ice pack or frozen vegetables from her freezer, wrap it in a towel and put it on her hand. She’s also told to take something for the pain.

It takes some effort to get up and collect everything she needs. Having only one usable hand is really impractical. Eventually, she manages to put some frozen vegetable mix on her hand and some painkillers in her stomach.

When her phone call with Alex is done — and Alex is on her way over too — Lena calls Kara again.

Kara keeps a steady stream of words going on and Lena is listening to them but when asked later, she won’t remember anything Kara talked about. It’s just a comforting sound in the quiet and emptiness of her apartment as she waits for both Danvers sisters to arrive and simultaneously tries not to panic and break down again.

She unlocks the door, leaving it slightly cracked so she doesn’t have to get up again, and sinks back down against the kitchen counter. Kara tells her to breathe deeply, to talk to her.

Lena remains quiet, listening to Kara talking to her. She does mutter something occasionally so Kara knows she’s still there. All the while, Lena tries to keep her breathing steady and deep. Tries to ignore the pain in the hand as she moves the towel with frozen peas around to cool different parts of her fingers.

It doesn’t take long before Kara arrives. The door creaks open slowly as Kara hesitantly moves inside Lena’s apartment, clearly looking for her before she hangs up the phone.

“Over here,” Lena says when Kara doesn’t spot her in the first few seconds after entering.

Kara looks slightly relieved as she puts away her phone but her face quickly morphs back to worry as she gets closer to Lena. She kneels down next to her and flails with her hands, wanting to help but not knowing what to do.

“How are you feeling? You look pale.”

“I am pale, Kara,” Lena retorts with a small smile. She can’t muster anything wider but it’s better than crying at least.

“I know, but you’re still pale even for you.” Kara puts a hand on Lena’s knee, providing some comfort without jostling Lena or getting too close to her painful hand. Lena appreciates the gesture. Appreciates not being pulled into a full body hug, like Kara is wont to do, even more. Her hand hurts too much for that.

A knock on the door signals Alex’s arrival and Kara quickly gets up to answer it. Kara leads her sister to Lena and Alex snaps into doctor mode.

“Can you tell me exactly what happened, Lena?” she asks. In the meantime she gestures for Lena to give her her good hand. Lena does so before answering the question.

Kara loyally sits down on Lena’s other side, her hand back at Lena’s knee as she silently watches Alex.

“I tried to put away some stuff but I couldn’t reach the shelf so I got out a chair but somehow my foot slipped, I think. I fell right on top of my hand.”

Alex’s hands gently hold Lena’s, the pointer and middle finger of her right hand resting on Lena’s pulse point to track her heartbeat.

“Okay, and how are you feeling now?”

“My hand hurts.”

Alex hums understandingly. “Do you feel faint? Sick?”

“A tiny bit nauseous maybe but it’s already getting less.” Lena decides to just be honest with Alex. It’s probably only in her benefit when she does so.

“Is it okay if I look at your hand? I promise I won’t pull at it or poke or anything, I just want to have a look and see what’s going on.”

Lena nods and removes the now no longer frozen peas. Her fingers are already double the size they should be and she’s glad she’s not wearing any jewellery. Alex moves around to get a good look at Lena’s hand and asks her whether she can still move her fingers, which she can but she can no longer fully stretch them or make a fist. At least she still has control of them.

“Thank you, Lena. I think we should indeed get you to the hospital and have some pictures taken to check whether you broke anything. But even if you did, it doesn’t look too bad. Your fingers are still functioning and you probably can’t move them as much as normal because of the swelling, not because of other damage. Just, better to be safe than sorry. That okay with you?” Alex looks at Lena for confirmation.

Lena fully trusts Alex’s judgement on this, so she nods. Alex is the expert on this so if Alex says she should get pictures taken, she’s not gonna protest. Right now. She’s in too much pain for that.

“How’s the pain?” Alex asks, not having made any move to leave yet.

“Bad but I can handle it.”

“Did you take painkillers yet?”

“Yes.” Lena gestures to the bottle on the counter.

Alex takes one look at it, reads the name and turns back to Lena. “I’m gonna need you to take something a little stronger. It’ll also help with the swelling. One moment, I think I have some in my purse. We’ll make sure to get more at the pharmacy when we’re at the hospital, okay?”

Lena nods obligingly. She doesn’t usually take strong painkillers. She doesn’t really take painkillers at all, having grown up without using them for most of her life. Not that Lillian wanted her to suffer, just that she didn’t often have anything that hurt and her periods were more manageable with hot water bottles and the pill than painkillers.

“Will it make me be all weird like those people in the YouTube videos Kara sometimes sends me?” she asks after a moment, fearing the answer. She isn’t ready to embarrass herself. Certainly not ready to say something she might regret. Expose her secrets and darkest thoughts.

“No,” Alex laughs heartily. “Nothing that strong. Just something slightly stronger than what you’re currently taking, because that’s clearly not doing enough.”

Alex returns to Lena’s side, a glass of water and a small white pill in her hand. “This is still over the counter, no worries. You probably won’t even notice a thing, except your hand hurting less.”

Relieved, Lena takes the pill from Alex’s hand and swallows it with some water.

“Can we take your car?” Alex asks when Lena’s done. “I took my bike.” It goes unspoken Kara has arrived by public transport. She doesn’t own a car, like most sane people in National City.

“Yes, the keys are on the table.” Lena slowly gets up, only taking Kara’s hand when she’s already on her own two feet because she still doesn’t feel too stable on her feet and getting up with one hand is hard enough.

Alex takes the keys and Kara helps Lena, holding doors open for her and talking about everything and nothing to distract Lena from the pain. It helps a little and Lena’s extremely grateful for her.

Alex takes the driver’s seat without asking and Lena and Kara get in the back together. Lena doesn’t want to part from the person who gives her comfort — or from Kara in general but that’s a recurring issue she’s already had to overcome multiple times. Kara doesn’t seem inclined to let go of Lena either, only releasing Lena’s hand long enough for them to get in on opposite sides of the car.

The entire ride, Kara’s thumbs strokes Lena’s hand. Her chipper voice piercing the otherwise silent air as she talks about a new donut place she’s tried the other day.

———

After a lot of waiting, a doctor looking at Lena’s hand and two X-rays from different angles, Lena’s given a splint for her fingers and sent home. Luckily, it’s just a bad strain and a tiny bone splinter.

Relieved but tired, and still in some pain, Lena’s brought home by Kara and Alex. Kara holds the doors open for her while Alex carries her purse. Both things she could do herself but she’s still grateful for not having to. She’s too tired to fight them on it.

“You should put on some comfy clothes,” Kara says after they enter Lena’s apartment. Lena looks down at her jeans and sweater, her heeled boots. Obediently, she nods and makes her way to the bedroom.

“Do you need any help?”

With some effort, Lena finds words to answer Kara with. “No, thank you. I’ll manage.”

Whenever she’s really tired, like now, and especially when she’s hurt, talking becomes an effort. Something she has to actively work to do.

Lena makes her way over to the bedroom and changes in an oversized sweater she’s borrowed — stolen, really — from Kara, leggings and fluffy socks — a gift from Kara. It’s a little struggle to unbutton her pants and slip them off without putting too much strain on her hand but she manages. Thankfully. It’s one thing to need help now but if she can’t dress herself in the morning or for the rest of the week — or next few — she’ll lose all her independence and that is probably one of the most terrifying things that could possibly happen to her. In Lena’s opinion.

Much to her surprise, Kara and Alex are still there when she enters the living room.

Her confusion must show because Kara gestures for her to sit down with them as she explains, “We couldn’t just leave you after the day you’ve had. Unless you want us to?”

Lena shakes her head. She doesn’t need them to leave. It’s kind of nice to have friends over now. To not be alone.

As Lena makes her way over, Kara scoots a little to the side in a silent invitation Lena gladly accepts. She curls up next to Kara, knees pulled up and hurt arm held close to her chest. Elevated, her fingers hurt less and sitting like this makes it less likely someone else bumps into her hand.

Kara’s arm wraps around Lena and pulls her a little closer.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired. And my hand still hurts a little.” Lena thinks for a moment what more she’s feeling. There’s nothing more to add. She actually feels quite good, all things considered. Her clothes are comfortable and she’s cuddled up with Kara, what more could she want right now?

“Did you have dinner before you hurt yourself?” Kara asks, ever the attentive friend.

“Oh. No, I don’t think so. I wanted to have it after I finished cleaning up.”

“What are you feeling like having? You should eat at least something or your body won’t have energy to heal.”

“Something light maybe. Soup?”

“Soup’s a good idea. Everyone likes soup. Except the people who don’t like it, I guess. Soup’s still good, as an idea. I’ll order you some.”

Lena can’t help let out a small chuckle as Kara awkwardly adjusts her glasses to recover from her ramble.

“Want to watch a movie in the meantime?” Kara suggests. Both of them have completely forgotten about Alex, sitting back on the other couch with her phone in hand.

“Okay. How about one of those ones you keep talking about?”

“Ohhhhhh!!!” Kara nearly vibrates with excitement. Lena knows how long she’s been wanting to make her watch some of her favourite movies. “Which one?”

“I don’t mind. The one with the talking llama you can’t stop talking about?”

Lena’s sure Kara’s going to vibrate herself into another dimension with how excited she gets at that suggestion.

“The emperor’s new groove!” Kara breathes, her voice a slightly higher pitch than usual.

“Oh no. I think you broke her,” Alex deadpans. “If I had known you could do that, I’d have sought you out and befriended you when I was a teen.”

Lena smiles at that. She knows it’s just sibling banter. Alex wouldn’t want Kara to actually break — or worse — and it’s always nice to hear confirmation of her friendship with Alex. It’s something she’s still kind of insecure about at times. Alex can come off a little cold and is very protective of Kara but Lena’s slowly learning Alex is also very fond and protective of her. Just not as much as of Kara.

“Hey, if you want I can ask Kelly to bring some soup. She’s on her way anyway.”

Kara’s focussed on pulling up the movie but at the mention of Kelly she looks up. “Is Kelly coming over too? To join for the movie?”

“Oh, well, she was going to pick me up but I guess we could ask her to stay, if that’s what you want.” Alex specifically looks at Lena when she makes the suggesting.

Lena feels kind of flattered Alex cares about her opinion and wants to make her as comfortable as possible. “If she’s okay with watching a movie, it could be nice.”

“Impromptu movie night,” Kara declares as she relaxes back into the couch, her head leaning towards Lena just the slightest.

Alex calls Kelly and asks her to join movie night and bring soup for all of them. Kelly hands Lena a bowl of vegetable-noodle soup, which makes Lena instantly a little happier because somehow someone made sure she got her favourite soup.

She’s pretty sure her eyes turn a little glassy when she thanks Kelly before she digs in. She has moved to the floor so the bowl can sit on her coffee table since she’s not really able to hold it with only one hand and at the same eat from it with that same hand.

The entire time she’s sitting on the floor — on a pillow now because Kara insisted — she can feel Kara’s presence behind her. She feels Kara’s eyes on her back and, occasionally, Kara’s foot bump against her hip. It doesn’t bother her one bit. She’s rather comforted by knowing Kara’s behind her and paying attention to her and her needs.

As soon as Lena finishes eating, she takes back her place on Kara’s side. Curled up in Kara’s arms. They spend the entire movie sitting like that, no matter the looks Kelly and Alex send them.

By the end of the movie, Lena’s gone from tired to utterly exhausted but filled with so much love she feels like her heart might explode if more is added. She lets out a big yawn, which prompts Kara to help her up and drag her along to her bathroom.

“Brush your teeth and off to bed with you,” Kara instructs, putting Lena in front of her sink.

Lena obediently takes her toothbrush and toothpaste and starts her bedtime ritual. She does have to ask Kara to squeeze some toothpaste on her brush because she can’t manage with one hand. If she really had to, she could have figured it out probably but she’s tired and it’s just easier to have Kara help her when she notices her struggling.

When Lena’s done and ready for bed, with a little more of Kara’s help, she lets Kara tuck her in under her blanket. Kara takes care to tuck in all the sides of the blanket, making Lena into a burrito. It feels very comfortable and warm.

“Promise to call me if you need anything. Anything, okay?” Kara asks, an insisting look on her face.

“Okay,” Lena agrees, more so because she doesn’t want to disappoint Kara than because she’s actually going to call her if she needs help.

“Even if you can’t open a bottle or put on your socks or whatever thing you might feel like would be bothering me. You got hurt and to heal faster you’re going to have to take it easy. So don’t do anything that hurts or might end up hurting you, okay?”

Kara looks really cute concerned. The small crinkle above her eyes very defined. Lena almost wants to reach out and brush it away. To put Kara at ease. Instead, she agrees.

“I promise I’ll call you if I need help.” This time, she means it. It would probably make Kara very happy when Lena calls her and Lena will do anything to make Kara happy.

She yawns again. She knows it’ll make Kara leave sooner, something she doesn’t want, but she can’t help it. She’s just so tired.

“Good night. Sweet dreams.” Kara leans forward, slowly inching closer. The distance between their faces getting smaller and smaller by the second. Then, Kara’s lips press to Lena’s forehead.

Lena can’t help closing her eyes and losing herself in the feeling of being so loved and cared for. The feeling of Kara’s warm and soft lips pressed to her forehead.

Far too soon, Kara pulls back and with a short exchange of goodbyes, she’s out the door.

Lena lets herself linger in the feeling of Kara a little longer. Of Kara’s presence. Kara’s warmth. Kara’s hug. Kara’s lips. Kara’s love.

Oh.

Kara’s love, Lena realises with a start.

Oh.

Yes. She is definitely in love with her best friend. Head over heels.