#and not let her ruin her already damaged reputation by saying the worst possible shit like this

[fadewalking]

I barely know who Jojo Siwa is, but ive also publicly defended her numerous times for all the "relationship drama" she seems to get cancelled for on twitter and tiktok, and i guess i still stand by that we need to be leaving ourselves out of the romantic affairs of celebrities. But now i also feel like having publicly defended her for anything is a bad look, given her stupid statement on Colleen Ballinger and her victims. And thankfully this situation is nowhere near on the scale of horrific as the Danny Masterson situation, but I can't help but draw some kind of parallel between Ashton & Friends defending Danny in their letters and Jojo defending Colleen. Like... why on earth would anyone make a decision to publicly support someone who has victims... is it money?? Just like being famous and having money??? That's the only thing jojo and Ashton seem to have in common, is that they're both famous and have money. So like when you're rich and famous do you automatically just not have a soul? I'm just floored at what could possibly cause this behavior of supporting people who do awful things. Unlike Ashton & Friends though, I think Jojo could recover from this if she just realized she's in the wrong and apologized. But i dont see her as the type to admit to being in the wrong, which is based off of nothing tbf, it's just a vibe and my own personal opinion. But yeah, horrible look. Not a girl's girl, i hope she grows up real quick and sees this situation for what it is.

[hollygoeslightly]

I love to read your posts on Sanditon, you add a certain depth to the story that I'm addicted to. I don't know if it ever came up before but do you think Sidney felt loved/chosen by Charlotte, If he did, in which scenes? I could only identify Young Stringer's comment, as a moment that he felt chosen by her. On the other hand, it's easy to see how much interest and love he felt for her, even when they fought. Theo's eyes show how hard he fell in love since their first encouter.

Hey!

Thank you so much, that’s really lovely of you to say.

Before I address the instances where Sidney felt “chosen” by Charlotte, I think it’s necessary to look at their individual character arcs (Charlotte in particular) and how that influences how they express their feelings for each other (I have a feeling this is probably going to get a little wordy, so apologies in advance).

First of all, let’s go back to the beginning and the Charlotte the audience was first introduced to in 1x01. At the beginning, Charlotte very much lands on the sensibility end of the sense and sensibility scale (the goal being to reach a happy medium between the two) – she is a charming, kind, outspoken romantic who wears her heart on her sleeve. Charlotte is also immediately attracted to and intrigued by Sidney when she first sees his portrait in the foyer of Trafalgar House. However, as we know, Sidney doesn’t exactly make the best first impression (or second or third) and Sidney and Charlotte end up in a push/pull relationship full of misunderstandings. However, by the time of the masquerade ball in London in 1x06, Charlotte and Sidney have reached a tentative peace and Charlotte has realised that she is madly in love with the tall, dark and brooding idiot who has been instrumental in her coming of age.

“I hardly know what to think anymore… about anything. I’ve always felt so certain of my judgement and now I see I’ve been blinded by sentiment and naivety. I’ve got it all so wrong. No wonder your brother has such a poor opinion of me.”

In 1x06, Charlotte’s world view undergoes a seismic shift and she discovers that people who are willing to be open about their thoughts and feelings are not always trustworthy (like Otis) and those that play their cards close to their chest are not always driven by ulterior motives (like Sidney). This discovery not only causes Charlotte to question her own judgement, but to struggle to find her footing. It is this Charlotte that must come to terms with her love for Sidney (landing her firmly on the sense end of the sense and sensibility scale) and this Charlotte is forever waiting for the other shoe to drop – for her happiness to be snatched out from beneath her, because she is after all, only a farmer’s daughter.

On the other hand, Sidney’s begins his journey as a man who very much believes in sense over sensibility. As a way to cope with his broken engagement to Eliza, Sidney has become emotionally disconnected from his own life – he is an outlier, someone who engages with the world around him with as little cost to his own feelings as possible. However, just as Sidney was instrumental in Charlotte’s coming of age (which is still ongoing), Charlotte is instrumental in helping Sidney become his best and truest self – a person who actively engages in life. In comparison to Charlotte, Sidney is much closer to finding the happy medium between sense and sensibility, while Charlotte still feels too gun shy following Eliza’s reappearance to completely trust that her possible future with Sidney will not be taken away. When you take Charlotte and Sidney’s individual character arcs are into consideration, it’s easy to see why Sidney has been far more verbal in expressing his feelings to Charlotte, and to therefore, pinpoint the moments where Sidney has “chosen” her.

It’s also important to note that choice doesn’t present as a theme in Charlotte’s narrative in the way it does with Sidney. Quite simply, Charlotte in unable to “choose” Sidney, because for her there was never any other choice. Charlotte was attracted to Sidney from the beginning, and while she enjoyed Young Stringer’s company as a friend, he was never a real contender for her affections. Despite all their misunderstandings, for Charlotte it was always Sidney. For Sidney, his feelings for Charlotte are complicated by his past with Eliza. That’s not to say that Sidney makes a choice between Charlotte and Eliza, rather he made the choice to say goodbye to his idea of Eliza and a future with her that he had spent 10 years waiting for. Sidney’s choice was between a dream he had held onto tightly for so long or finally embracing becoming his best and truest self as a result of his love for Charlotte (side note – Sidney is again faced with the theme of choice when he is forced to decide between his own happiness or his brother’s ruin). So while Charlotte doesn’t “choose” or verbalise her love for Sidney like Sidney does with her because of the differences in their character arcs, that doesn’t mean Charlotte’s behaviour doesn’t indicate how much she loves Sidney or that Sidney is not aware of her feelings for him.

Okay, now that’s out of the way, let’s look at the ways Charlotte expresses her love for Sidney. To do this, we need to go back to episode 1x02 and Lady Denham’s luncheon and Charlotte’s response when questioned about her marriage prospects.

Lady Denham – “And you miss, are you still keeping up the pretence that you are not in Sanditon in search of a wealthy man to marry and to keep you?”

Charlotte – “Indeed I am not ma’am. I have no thoughts of marriage at all and if I were to choose a husband wealth would not come into it.”

Lady Denham – “Poppycock!”

Charlotte – “Should not a good marriage be based on mutual love and affection? Without equality of affection, marriage can become a kind of slavery.”

Not only is Sidney sitting next to Charlotte during this exchange, but he hangs on her every word. It’s worth going back and rewatching the scene again if you have the chance, because Theo James does a fantastic job of conveying just how much it matters to Sidney that Charlotte wishes to marry for love and not money.

The first time Charlotte demonstrates just how much she cares for Sidney is in 1x05 during the cricket match between the gentlemen and the workers. During the first half of the episode, Charlotte and Sidney’s relationship is noticeably strained after Sidney sent Otis back to London and Charlotte accused Sidney of keeping Otis and Georgiana apart due to racism in 1x04. Following Tom’s tantrum (dude, you were clearly out), Sidney is left on his own to forfeit the match due to a lack of players. Now it would be easy to assume that Charlotte offers to play to help Tom save face or to help cover Mary’s embarrassment regarding her husband’s childish behaviour (Tom is The Worst), however they have already both left the match. The reason Charlotte offers to play has nothing to do with Tom or Mary, and everything to do with Sidney and ensuring he is not hung out to dry by his brother. Charlotte is not concerned with the possible damage she may do to her reputation playing a man’s sport or the fact that she is still angry over Sidney’s treatment of Otis, she doesn’t even demand anything in return for her assistance – Charlotte offers to play for one reason only and it is because she cares for Sidney.

Keeping in mind the conversation between Charlotte and Lady Denham in 1x02, the final two examples occur in 1x08. The first example is quite subtle and as a result is often overlooked, however it’s my favourite for a whole bunch of reasons, the top being that Sidney gives Charlotte complete autonomy in determining how their relationship will develop, or if it will develop at all. When Sidney arrives at Trafalgar House with contracts for Tom to sign, he asks Charlotte if she needs anything while he’s in town and Charlotte in turn asks whether she can walk with him as she needs a dress fitting for the midsummer ball. Sounds rather banal, I know. However, what Sidney is actually doing is confirming his declaration of feelings from the night before – he is telling Charlotte that not only do his feelings remain unchanged, but that he is still thinking of her and that he wants to be with her. And he is doing all of this while also allowing Charlotte complete control over what happens next. This scene is one of the many reasons I rail against the argument that Charlotte was passive during the final two episodes, because this moment here, Charlotte’s decision to walk into town with Sidney, is far from passive. Charlotte could have responded that she didn’t need anything, letting Sidney down gently or named something inconsequential to pick up, indicating that she returns his feelings, but needs a little more time. Instead, she asks if she can join him, telling Sidney without words that she loves him and wants to be with him as well. Sidney knows that Charlotte wishes to marry for love, that she is unwilling to trade money and security for a loveless marriage, therefore he also knows that Charlotte indicating that she returns his feelings is far from inconsequential. This moment repeats itself during their walk along the clifftops when Charlotte notes they are not walking into town and Sidney calls himself a fool and offers to head back. Even here he is giving Charlotte a way out. But Charlotte loves him and she tells him she would much rather a walk along the clifftops (“with you” is left unsaid).

The second example is an obvious one, but in the end, it’s really the only moment that counts – Charlotte was going to say yes. Charlotte, who believes marriage without love is its own form of slavery, was about to say yes to Sidney’s marriage proposal before Edward crashed the ball and the whole world went to shit. If that’s not choosing someone, I don’t know what is.

I’ve said this a million times before, but I’ll say it again – we are still in the middle of the story. This isn’t just an opinion, but a fact – comments from Andrew Davies, Kris Marshall and the fact that S2 was even on the table, tells us so. Therefore, I think all those moments you want anon, of Charlotte telling Sidney she is in love with him and vice versa, would have occurred in S2. It would have been a fitting end to both their arcs and I have no doubt that series would have ended with Sidney and Charlotte finally reunited in wedded bliss.

Thanks for the question!

[taylorroger-s]

𝔢𝔵 𝔫𝔦𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔬 // a six underground story

----- ｐｒｏｌｏｇｕｅ -----

a/n i don’t want to preface this too much but this isn’t really a fanfic? there’s no pairing at the focus, and it’s really just a story in the 6u world because there is no way i’m letting micheal bay waste the potential of 6u. I worked extremely hard on this and the later missions and i’m really proud of it! so i hope you enjoy, there is much more to come! so here’s my masterlist, and no warnings except for swearing. enjoy :)

‎

𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚖 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚖, 𝙽𝚈𝙲 ----------

‎

“nine, you have to get out of there.” one hisses into his headset, drawing the attention of the waiting driver. she rolls her eyes, anxiously scanning the block for any law enforcement or her team. 

“you think i don’t fucking know that? but y’all better get your asses over here. feds are swarming even on the other side of the park.” nine gritts her teeth at every police cruiser slithering by, their flashing lights only adding to her growing anxiety. 

“my hands are kinda full right now!” four shouts, breathing heavily into his microphone. things went south fast, and even their planned escape had been shaky at best. the mission failed and they need to get out of the city fast. 

“get over here, and i’ll get you out. remember, i’m on columbus and west 92nd in front of the party city. ten minutes. now make like ghosts and disappear.”

‎

𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑 & 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚊 

‎

tires squealed against the beat-up asphalt as two early model corvettes shot down an empty stretch of highway 75. bitter cold nebraska winter winds cut through to the bone as the pair curved around a rough bend of road surrounded on both sides by sprawling fields. the sun hung low on the horizon, struggling to light up the endless farmland. the only sound within ten miles was the roar of combustion engines mingling with crickets chirping as they passed by. 

“cmon,” a woman muttered to her car, eyes narrowed as she scanned the makeshift racetrack. she couldn’t make out the taunt called out to her from the other driver, responding only with a raised middle finger and a sharp push on the accelerator. her car’s heavily modified engine purred under her touch, advancing on her opponent’s ride. 

a window of opportunity finally appeared before her. she was no more than a foot behind him, another bend visible in her peripheral vision. exhaling slowly, she brought her left foot from hovering over the clutch to the brake. the turn came closer, wrapping around a hill. she could just about hear the squeal of her opponent’s brakes, pressing on her brake at the same time. they hurtled around the bend at dangerous speeds. coming out of the turn, her opponent switched his right foot from the brake to the gas pedal to accelerate out of the turn. but her foot was already there, giving her just a fraction of a second edge over his car. her ride edged up on his, a devilish grin spreading across her lips. 

just as her dark red car was about to overtake his, the flash of distant headlights made them both freeze. she wanted to scream in frustration, but there was no time to think, lest she wanted to risk a head on collision. she very reluctantly pulled in behind his car, various scenarios for vengeance cycling through her head. their race was over. she had lost. 

the semi truck passed them by without a second look, and after a few minutes the pair pulled into a decades old rest stop. the woman ran her fingers across the smooth dashboard of her car, thumb brushing over a small mark right by the unused radio. they made it fifteen miles before their race was rudely interrupted. a sudden knock on the windshield stirred her from her thoughts. 

“too slow once again darling.” the man cooed, poisonous edge to his words. that was the third race she’d lost to him in six weeks. it was starting to damage her reputation as a notorious street racer in an innocuous corner of small-town america. the mechanics shop she worked for was the not-so-clever front of their racing circle - essentially the only friends she had - wherein she was the best. at least until that start up showed his face in gretna, nebraska- of all places. 

“oh fuck off.” she grumbled, keeping her eyes trained on the last rays of the sun sinking below the horizon, plunging the rest stop into a chilling darkness. the sky was just beginning to show the shimmer of distant stars, rolling across the countryside in a thick blanket of night. constellations blinked into existence against the dark. a saying from her latin classes in college came to mind: natura non constristatur. nature doesn’t give a shit about you.  

“as you wish. same time next week?” her rival called, already waltzing back to his car, hood shimmering silver in the burgeoning moonlight, a small rosary and fuzzy dice hanging from his rear view mirror. it was about ten years newer than hers, but not nearly as slick. at least in her opinion. 

“one week and i’m gonna destroy your ass.” she responded, words almost drowned out by the subsequent start of his decades old engine. he loudly revved it a few times, overtaking any words she could possibly try to curse him with. there were a few choice latin phrases she had stored up.

“in your dreams!” he shouted, pulling onto the road and heading north, back to her hometown. and so she was left alone with her thoughts, only finding company in the infinite sky and hum of wildlife. the cold winter night started to pick away at her fading adrenaline, causing her teeth to quietly chatter as her eyes stayed focused on the heavens. what was she doing? she would never get out of nebraska, and her life would all be for nothing. but before she could fully spiral into existentialism, the allure of her bed came to mind; an area much more comfortable than the freezing drivers seat of her 1986 corvette. 

she tore her eyes away from the nighttime sky with a huff, hand drifting to the gearshift. she started the engine, slowly moving the car into reverse. she didn’t think to check in the rearview mirror until a shout rang out over the hum. she slammed her foot on the brake, just before hitting whoever decided to fucking walk behind a moving car. the anger slowly simmering below the skin after her loss decided to boil over. she hopped out of the car before she even turned off the engine to tell off the prick who decided to ruin her moping. 

"what the fuck man?” she was fuming so much the mystery figure could probably see the smoke pouring from her ears. she couldn’t quite make out their face since the only lamp within five miles lit them from behind. crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned against the trunk of the car, glaring at the intruder while she waited for an answer. 

“wasn’t expecting that reaction. hello-” okay so definitely a guy, she thought, squinting harder to try and make out his face. he brushed off his pants before looking up at her, face obscured by shadow and sunglasses. at night. the tone of his voice irked her; infuriatingly playful even in the weird circumstances. 

“what the hell are you doing out here?” she growled, bracing her hands on the burnished metal of her car. her nails tapped rhythmically against it, shifting her expression to appear as calm and intimidating as possible. there wasn’t another car visible in the parking lot as far as she could tell, and the man certainly didn’t appear to be a fallen angel. how and why was he there? but there was another, more concerning question picking at her mind: if he was there for her, how did he find her?

“is that how you always greet strangers?” the man quipped, still avoiding her question. a stranger was exactly what he was. general knowledge suggested to not talk to strangers, especially in an empty rest stop parking lot. in the middle of nowhere. fear crept up on her as the man smiled, whispering worries in her ear the longer he dodged her questions. 

“what do you want?” she gritted her teeth, fingers slowly curling into fists. her instincts kicked into high gear as he took a few steps closer. his hands were tucked into his back pockets, and he looked disturbingly nonchalant as he approached her. 

"heard about your racing. pretty good from what i’ve heard." now that threw her for a loop. why did he want to hear about her racing? however, logic was soon overshadowed by a wave of pride and she lifted her chin, looking straight into the man’s eyes through his sunglasses. it was too dark to glean anything from his expression, but she didn’t waver. she was better than pretty good. 

"the best. now who's asking?" she nearly spat the last words out through gritted teeth, pushing off the car and taking a step forward. the man smiled at her bravado, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"i have a job for you." she scoffed, shaking her head. it suddenly popped into her mind that he could be a criminal looking for a getaway driver or a scapegoat. but the seed of curiosity burrowing inside her brain won out. 

"so you mind going into specifics?" she questioned him with heavy doubt in her voice. 

"not here cupcake. but i need a driver.” the illegal path seemed more and more likely. ‘not here’ oh yeah, not suspicious at all. she was tempted to shut the conversation straight down and run, but there was nothing she could really lose by hearing more. worst case scenario, she gets frostbite and maybe put on a hit list. best case? there was no way of knowing.

"and why me?"

"like you said, you’re the best. and you have next to nothing tying you here. your skill is being wasted, but i can fix that. i can give you a cause to believe in. so how would you like a chance to actually change the world?" that stopped her. she hadn’t done anything worthwhile in a very, very long time. and believing in something? that was a distant memory. she didn’t believe in this man either. 

"aquila non capit muscas. i’m not here for your nonsense.” she was aware that quoting her latin professor would earn herself an eye roll from the mystery man, but she wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries nor dreamy exaggerations. she was starting to think he was insane. and yet, something in his words tugged at her heart. he sounded suddenly sincere. it was like he had read her mind. 

“okay shakespeare, there certainly is some nonsense in this offer, sure. but it’s your best shot to get out of here. i am offering you freedom from everything holding you back.” five seconds passed. ten. fifteen. thirty. she mulled over his words over and over again, quickly disregarding how horribly vague they were. there really was no reason to take him seriously, and he had provided no details into this “job” which was starting to sound more and more illegal. 

still. she turned to look at her car, scanning all its dents and imperfections. so many memories, so much history that had slowly made her jaded and cynical. so much to break free from. even though there was no evidence that this job was worth it, or that his promise of freedom rang true, she was tired of the bullshit. 

“i’m listening.” a sharp smile spread across his lips, and he nodded. 

"good. but there's one thing i need you to do before we get started. i need you to die"

-----

hey mary, and whoever else is reading. i guess this is goodbye. sorry you had to find out this way. 

it doesn’t matter what i once wanted to be. i didn’t get it. but this is what i want. i promise. i’m sorry to ghost you. but this is what’s right for me. see you on the flip side. 

faking her death was almost disturbingly simple. a burning car at the base of a ravine, suicide note found just outside the melted frame. no reason to pursue an investigation. attending her funeral was the most surreal part. until then, the weight of her decision hadn't felt real. she watched as her sister, her coworkers, and even her racing rival said their last goodbyes at what they thought was her final resting place. she couldn’t watch anymore when her sister began to sob, and the man, who had identified himself as one, dragged her away before she had a chance to break down

the night before she faked her death, she sat on her bedroom floor, chopping off locks of hair and silently contemplating what she was about to do. the rules that one gave her were simple in theory, but horribly complicated in reality. 

cities you have never been to. people you have never met. numbers instead of names. only talk to your fellow ghosts. plural. she was about to be thrown in with a band of hungry revolutionaries with similar shady pasts. at least, she assumed that's who she would find once one took her to the last home she would ever know. last home. she cycled through the pros and cons for the hundredth time, weighing them over and over.

no more taxes. no more criminal background. no crazy ex chasing her. no expectations to leave behind. pure freedom, if she followed the rules of course. the homegrown american girl she once was would die, and in her place: nine. 

cons? those were a little more iffy. her sister mary was a senior in highschool and just turned 18. mary was all she had left, and vice versa. even though mary was technically an adult and could fend for herself, she still felt guilty. more of her hair fluttered to the ground. if she was going to have a new name, she might as well get new hair. it was rough around the edges, horribly uneven, and made it look as though she had lost a fight with a weed whacker. fitting. 

not too long after, she was in a plane on her way to nowhere. she was completely alone in the cabin, one piloting from the cockpit. nine was mesmerized by the sprawling land thousands of feet below as they moved west. it was her first, but definitely not her last time on a plane. 

was it insane? yes. was it almost a certain ticket to an actual early grave? definitely. and yet, every time she finished looking through her list, there was only one outcome that came out of it all. a death with more meaning than her life would ever bring. she would miss her sister, and the few friends left behind, but for the first time in a long time, the apathy faded away. 

‎

𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚝 ----------

‎

“alright motherfuckers, i finally got our asses a driver.” one called out into the dark belly of the old aircraft, lit only by a few glowing screens. nine followed him in, holding tight to her small duffel bag full of the only possessions one let her take, the logo of her high school plastered on the side.

“wow, only took you six months.” one flipped on a light switch, turning on a few lightbulbs in the center of the room, illuminating six figures gathered around a rusted metal table. each one looked like they were from a completely different planet. 

“thank you for the attitude four, i hate it.” one cheerfully pointed to a chiseled blond man wearing a worn blue hoodie. she assumed rightly that he was four, and based on the accent, also british. she idly wondered how he ended up in the same place she was, or in the same place as the rest of one’s mismatched crew. a crew that she was now a part of. 

“six was already too fucking much. then seven. and now eight.” a slightly scary, tall blonde woman spoke, thick french accent coating her words. despite the venom, it almost looked like she had never moved her lips, an eerily blank expression stuck on her face. nine suddenly felt extraordinarily childish with her “gretna dragons” bag, the faded green fabric full of pulled strings and various stains. just the way she stood make nine feel in over her head. one took it all in stride. 

“well i don’t see you volunteering to give up your handguns and get in the driver's seat, and eventually you agreed to eight for the same reason, so shush.” nine looked between one and two, and their silent standoff. two rolled her eyes, essentially surrendering to nine’s presence. nine let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. she had a feeling it would be a shit idea to be on that woman’s bad side. 

“this is nine. nine, this is two, three, four, five, seven, and eight.” one pointed to them each in turn: the tall blonde woman, a hispanic man with a full beard, the startlingly attractive blond man, a woman with aviator sunglasses hanging from her shirt, a tall dark-skinned man who seemed much less stony than the others, and a tall girl wearing an excessive amount of leather. but there was something else that worried her more than the mismatched group one presented. a number was skipped. 

“wait, could i get a quick rundown of who does what?” nine assumed there was a reason for each person to be there.

“i’m a billionaire and…”

“i’m blaine. that’s camille, javier, billy, amelia, and sofia” seven - blaine - cut one off. nine was caught off guard; it seemed one declined to mention that ‘numbers instead of names’ were more of a formality for the rest of the team. the rules she was told must have been one’s original vision.

“seven-” one tried to silence blaine, but was stopped with a glare. apparently one was equally against the names as seven was with numbers. it was intriguing, but nine wasn’t willing to dig further into his mind, nor was she okay with sharing her name. she wanted to leave everything behind. 

“nope, she’s part of the team now. numbers are for missions. what’s your name?” she seized up, eyes moving to each person to identify names with faces, something she had never been good at. numbers just seemed so much simpler. 

“no.” nine responded flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. seven froze, but held his hands up in surrender. one nodded approvingly to nine, and continued with his explanation of everyone’s roles. 

“she knows what’s up. now, two is the spy, three is the hitman, four is the skywalker…” though one’s titles didn’t give extraordinary detail, having ‘the skywalker’ as a job description was simply puzzling.

“the hell does that mean?” she asked, eyes flicking just for a moment over to four before returning to one. 

“he does parkour, five is the doctor, seven is the sniper, eight is the scout, and you are…” one continued without missing a breath, and nine suspected he predicted that question. four caught her eye and winked. 

“the driver?” the sly smiles suddenly slipped from the ghost’s faces as they exchanged guarded looks. nine had a sinking feeling as to why. 

“that was six, our last driver. let’s hope you avoid the same fate.” his grim words carried a little-too-lighthearted tone. well that’s reassuring, she thought. not worrying at all. one rubbed his hands together, walking over to one of the walls in their airplane shell meeting room. nine pieces of paper were on the wall, eight of them with roman numerals going up from two, and one with a photo of a man who had a giant red x on his face. his face tugged at nine’s memory. he must have been on the news. this operation might just be bigger than she expected. 

“gather around the fire, cleavers, target two. corporate mogul noah kenneth carpenter,” one took down the page labeled “ii” and behind it hung a photo of the titular capitalistic businessman. nine felt like she was about to hurl. she knew that face. any guilt for leaving faded away in one fell swoop; this was the vengeance she yearned for. her sister mourned her loss, but nine could now strike back stronger than the girl she was could ever dream of. 

“been accused of fraud, sexual harassment, shady international dealings, labor abuse. textbook scumbag, yet rich enough to keep himself in the clear. and we’re going to take him down. there are three simple steps, except there’s more than three and they’re not simple.” there was a beat of silence after that, which nine used to take a closer look at her new teammates. three had his feet propped up on the table, two standing behind his chair with her hand on his shoulder. four leaned forward on his elbows, green eyes focused on one. five had her arms crossed over her chest, and seven had his attention focused on one’s presentation, posture perfectly straight. 

“what’s the first of these not-so-simple steps?” eight asked, picking at the thin blade of a small knife in her hands. she was a step behind the others, on the other side of seven. no longer the newest on the team, but still separate from what nine could tell. she couldn’t help but feel for the other girl. 

“glad you asked kiddo,” one grinned, a dangerous edge to his expression. “nine, i’m assuming you heard of the major disruption of the peace in florence eight months ago, and the subsequent coup in turgistan?” there was something bordering pride in his voice. nine could see small, sharp smiles from the ghosts as they glanced to each other. 

“vaguely, not much international shit made its way to me.” that was true. local news stations only showed things like county fairs and local robberies on the rare occasions nine would turn on the tv, and she didn’t care enough to go in search of global issues that didn’t concern her. 

“well that was us, and this is about to be on a similar scale. except for the unstable geopolitical aftermath. probably.” nine raised her eyebrows. it was difficult to wrap her head around these six underground vigilantes rocking the boat with nothing but varying, potentially deadly, specializations. it made her even more curious as to what she could do with them, and what she could do to noah carpenter. 

“anyway, the mission. the ultimate goal is to get him locked away, preferably not dead so he can rot in federal prison, but you can never tell with two and three on the squad,” two and three glared at one in unison, three miming slitting someone’s throat, but one just smiled. nine was starting to catch on to the group dynamics. 

“but before kenny can get a messy prison tat, we have to dig up some major dirt on him. something to destroy his legacy, drag his company through the mud, take away everything he took from the people.” nine could feel a dark smile spreading across her lips. a cause to believe in indeed. 

“so, there’s a big tech meeting thing in new york next month, and we are going to be there, along with mister exploitation over here,” one gestured crudely to the photo of carpenter pinned roughly to the thin wall. the sneer on the businessman’s face made nine’s blood boil. she was already on board with whatever the plan was going to be, and couldn’t wait to lend her driving skills to take him down. 

“what skyscraper am i crawling up now?” four sounded uninterested, cocking his head to the side. 

“it’s the guggenheim, and you’re not exactly crawling, more like sneaking. step one is going to be infiltrating. i have gotten intel saying that some shady deal is going down between him and a foreign mogul guy. we need to hear it all. the following missions are a little more iffy, and if we don’t find any dirt or evidence… well this is gonna take longer than anticipated.” 

“this is almost as vague as our last plan.” three quipped, idly invested in the small pistol in his palm. he aimed it at various spots around the room with disinterest, to which everyone responded by ducking and dodging his aim. 

“and that’s how i like it. no logical order means no one will expect what is coming.” nine just blinked at one in astonishment. her fantasies of justice tilted towards the farfetched with one’s confident admission of having no foolproof evidence to jump off of. 

“doesn’t that make it harder for us?” nine asked, unsettled by how calm everyone else seemed to be. her initial worries about one’s offer being vague came back to the forefront of nine’s mind. her instincts on the night she met one might have been more accurate than she realized, but she was in much too deep to change her mind.  

“you get used to it,” two admitted. nine almost flinched when she heard the slightly scary blonde woman speak. the comfort caught nine off guard more than two’s words. 

“now here is what our first mission is gonna play out…” one pulled out blueprints from a box under the table. pens and sharpies in hand, he started to draw out how their mission would go. he was about to start talking when he looked over his shoulder to see nine still standing a few feet from the group. he flashed her a winning smile and beckoned nine forward. the rest of the group was facing her, softening towards their newest ghost. here goes nothing.

nine took a deep breath in, then out, and took a step forward, officially leaving the past behind and entering her new death. 

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

yaydyfyaydfyasoudfhasode it’s posted!!! I have the first chapter underway and way too many ideas for how this is going to go. but here’s some hints for the future: a sparring scene, city traffic, hiding in a castle and much tension to come! stay tuned :)

lmk if you want to be on the taglist!

[bewareofchris]

Help! My plot is stalled!

It’s alright, friends.  We’ve all been there, sitting at a desk or laying in our beds, staring at the screen wondering what in the holy beef jerky has gone wrong because our ability to write has just come to a screeching halt.

We’re uninspired.

We’re unmoved.

We’re incapable of figuring out what happens next.

It’s time like this that our instinct is to grab a machete and start cutting through extraneous characters like a boiled steak knife through Jell-O.  We’re throwing romantic curve balls and car crashes at our protagonist so quickly they don’t have time to recover from one before they’re being traumatized by another.

Sometimes, we think, now is the time to reveal that our beloved Protagonist is actually an alien from another planet who survives by consuming the souls of lap dogs and his insatiable thirst for Pekineses is causing him great distress because the human mate he has chosen for himself has three such delicious morsels.

BUT, never fear my friends.  Here are some ideas to help you get out of that hellish valley of despair and back on track.

Take a break.  Have a snack.  Stretch your limbs.  Go for a walk.  Call a friend who listens to things and explain to them how your story is stupid and you hate it and it won’t move.  You don’t need to let your friend talk at all. Just keep complaining about your story until suddenly you realize what went wrong.

Daydream about what your character would do if you were to suddenly abandon him/her with six kids under the age of 5 at a busy theme park.  Or what he/she would do if they suddenly found themselves trying to talk two very angry kingly types out of starting a civil war because they disagree on which side of their toast to spread butter on.  Put your character in the MOST ridiculous scenario you could possibly imagine.  Make them rationalize their way out of it.  Don’t make it easy.  Six kids under the age of 5 when you’ve never dealt with children is basically hell.  Let your character suffer, and fail, improve and finally win (or at least survive).

Fantasize about beating your characters with a metal pipe.  Imagine their pleas for mercy as they try in vain to remind you that they are fictional constructs and this is not their fault.

Once you’ve cleaned your system of these violent urges toward non-real people, sit back down.  Re-read what you’ve written, if it’s still as bad as you thought it was, here are some actual bits of advice:

Regardless of what Rafiki once said about moving on and forgetting the past, the problem that you are presently experiencing is mostly caused by something that went wrong in the recent events of your story.  Take another look at the latest choices that your main or side characters made and ask yourself if maybe them making A DIFFERENT CHOICE might put your story back to rights.

Take another look at your character and his/her story so far.  Is your character excelling in every facet of his/her life?  Have they faced any obstacles that amounted to more than a mild inconvenience?  Are they generally well-liked?  Respected?  Do they have noticeable faults?  Are these faults presented in a way that allows other people to be annoyed by them?  Have these faults gotten in the character’s way?  If your main character is Too Good and Such Winning or Basically Useless and Always Failing then your story is imbalanced and it can’t move forward because you’re not allowing the protagonist to experience growth and change.

Are there relationships?  Friendships?  Family?  Rivalrys? ROMANCE?  You need relationships of at least 2 different types in a story.  Preferably more.  And they can’t all be the same kind with different names.  And they need to also be developing with your characters.  So Protag makes an unpopular choice with his family but his BFF is loving it and his Romantic Interest thinks it could be good for him.  You have so much material right there!

DO. NOT. MURDER. ANYONE.  Dismemberment is okay if you really want to have to take the time out of your story to focus on the emotional and physical effects that a traumatic event inflicts on your protagonist.

DO NOT MAKE YOUR ROMANTIC INTERESTS HATE EACH OTHER OVER SOMETHING STUPID.  Please.  Please don’t do this.  It’s really just not worth it.  If you make them so angry at one another they’re screaming death threats and then the next day they’re like: I guess we love one another again you cheapen the impact.  If this is a story about overcoming things and growing as people and forgiveness then yes, break them up and get them back together but don’t do it just to have an exciting screaming sequence.  Or do.  I mean, you do you.

Instead of tearing your couple apart, have them get together.  Have them spend a weekend doing silly, childish, amazing things.  Let them smooch, and cuddle, and eat candy together.  Let them waste money they don’t staying overnight in a fancy hotel.

Visit a Significant Character from your Protag’s past because they are in need of comfort and guidance.  Allow them to reminisce about the good old days, and whine about how they don’t feel like they’ll ever be that happy again.  Let your Significant Character hit your Protag with a rolled up newspaper.  STOP BEING A NINNY, PROTAG.  STOP IT IMMEDIATELY.

Give your Protag an unexpected promotion.  You were just a kid that cleaned stables, but we noticed that you’ve got a real way about you that suggests you’re WIZARD MATERIAL.  Build that Protag up, let him feel pride and joy and love.

(And then make the person that promoted him have questionable morals.  Make him vaguely untrustworthy.  Watch your starry-eyed protag battle against a shady man of questionable intentions to see who wins in the end!  But not with the fate of the whole world.  Like the fate of a small village at most.)

Give your Protag the single worst day of his entire life that does not involve physical altercations and/or death.  Maybe he/she pulled a muscle having athletic sex that morning, was distracted by the pain in the shower,got soap in their eyes, limped to the car to find it was out of gas, went to a busy gas station, got coffee that was too cold to enjoy, was late to work, had more work than usual, the pain meds never started working, left his lunch at home, couldn’t buy anything because they ran out of time, had to listen to the Obnoxious Co-Worker next to them complaining about Obnoxious Co Workers Obviously Useless Significant Other for an hour and a half, left work late, forgot about plans to meet up with a friend, got ignored by friend at meet up, comes home and collapses in a pile of self-pity and physical pain and has Significant Other rub their aching pulled muscle and listen to their complaints.

You could do a car wreck, or you could just ruin your Protag’s entire life by having the transmission die in the middle of traffic.

The point I’m trying to get across here is that you have to have a journey that is balanced with ups and downs.  If you’re only going up, or you’re only going down, or you’re not going anywhere at all but straight forward on a 300 mile car trip across a flat surface with no trees, there’s no story there.

You could shoot someone, or you could have your Protagonist do something that injures their relationship with their Best Friend and Confidante.  Then your Protag protests their innocence to the point that it’s obvious they are being Stupid now.  Let them roll around in undeserved pity.  Let nobody else agree with them, and still they refuse to acknowledge they are stupid.  And then let them FINALLY, sort of, a little, admit they were wrong and instead of them offering a half-assed apology and moving on like it never happened, make them work to repair the damage they inflicted.  

Put your Protag in a position where they have to defend a friend/family member or romantic interest in a non-physical way.  Susan from Biology was telling Quentin and Theodore that Protag’s BFF eats his own snot.  And Protag is like OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO GO FIND SUSAN AND SCREAM A STRONGLY WORDED LETTER AT HER.  (or start vicious rumors about her behind her back, and take utterly glee at her humiliation, and then finally think: did I go to far?  I don’t think I went too far.)

DO. NOT. GET. SOMEONE. PREGNANT.  Do you knows what happens when someone’s pregnant?  They end up with a baby.  (Or a miscarriage.)  That pregnancy cannot be handwaved away.  If you’re not here to write about the amazing journey from sex to birth and lifetime of parenting that follows, you are not here to get someone knocked up for the drama.

Sure, let your Protag develop a desperate attraction to someone’s that not the Primary Love Interest but if the Primary Love Interest and Protag already have sexual and romantic tension building between them, maybe let the audience know that this is one of those things where you’re lonely and you want companionship and it’s not really that fair to Someone You Just Met and Now Want to Have Sex With.  Let Primary Love Interest struggle to be supportive.  or let Protag and Primarily Love Interest be mean-spirited little shits and mock the poor Someone You Just Met.

DO. NOT. MURDER. AN. ENTIRE. VILLAGE.  Did a spell go bad?  Did a curse escape?  Did your magical being accidentally create a sixteen foot tall metal horse with a thirst for squirrel hearts?  Remember that wholesale murdering of innocent side characters nobody cares about does effectively nothing for your story.  Don’t kill the entire village.  Let your character freak out because he/she misplaced a curse and ANYONE COULD HAVE IT.  Let them ransack the village developing a reputation as a mad man to find it.  Let him work furiously to develop a cure to the curse and refuse to rest until everyone’s been inoculated against said Curse, and then idk, he finds it on the floor under his work station.  Or, let him realize a curse is missing and he just kind of says nothing while he watches the village to see how effective it is.

SIDE QUESTS, so here me out.  This works best for longer stories and serial type works of fiction, but if your character has only one goal and never any other goals or distractions or purposes or interests you are seriously shooting yourself in the foot.  Don’t focus all your energy on Protag Loves Love Interest.  Protag also has Family Drama.  (Did you hear that Bobert is trying to buy a fucking boat?  A boat!  Why does he need a boat!  He can’t swim.  He’s going to die.  A boat.  A god damn boat.)  Protag has ambitions at work that are being undercut by Evil Boss.  (And anyway, Worst Boss Ever, he just comes over and drops this massive work load on my desk and he smiles at me because the Main Boss is coming tomorrow and my desk will be the only one covered in unfinished work.  What choice do I have?  I can’t quit, I need this promotion, so I stick to it.  I stay late, I work as hard as I can and...)

I know it’s not for everyone but Sex.  Unless your characters are Too Young to have a developed sexuality, that sexuality needs to be in your story.  I mean, if your entire story takes place and Grandma’s funeral, then you probably can skip this one.  But if your story takes place over any length of time, sex and sex-adjacent things need to be brought up.  They don’t need to be graphic.  They don’t need to be gross.  It can be a kiss, or the yearning for a kiss.  It can be a meaningful, flirtatious touch.  It can be the idea of a flirtatious touch.  There can be complaints of a need for flirtatious touches.  To each their own comfort level, but some sense of sexuality and how that is a Driving Urge in your character is also good.

Introduce a Rival.  Go ahead.  Let your uncontested King of Bowling protag meet a New Challenger.  Send them spiral with fear that they may not be top dog anymore.

Force your Protag and Antagonist to form a momentary truce.  Let them come to some understanding of the other that makes their future interactions more difficult.  

Strike your Protag with a Great Unfairness.  They didn’t get the promotion.  They couldn’t pay the bills.  They weren’t selected to be court jester.  They didn’t get to the store on time.  Someone else got to the top of the summit before them and now they’re basically trash to history.

Randomly have your supposed Antagonist turn out to Actually a Decent Guy that you’ve been blaming for all the wrongs in the world because it was convenient and really the actual antagonist can’t be defeated because he/she overpowers you somehow.  But with Actually a Decent Guy and his Surprisingly Nice Friends and you and your friends, you stand a chance.

Push your protagonist into a mud puddle.  Just for shits and giggles, make it so there’s not a dead body in there with him.  Or put one in if you want.  Nothing says ‘happy fun times at plot-stalled high’ like a decomposing corpse where one shouldn’t be.

Break your Protagonists heart, and let there be people that love them.  

Have fun, take your time, embrace the mundane and ridiculous aspects of life.  ALWAYS give your character flaws, and make them aware of them, and let them grow.  That’s the story.  All the other nonsense, the car wrecks and gunshots, and serial killers doesn’t matter in the end.  The reader is looking for Relationships That Matter and Characters that Grow.  Characters that stink of humanity, that reflect something about human beings the reader has met (or the reader themselves).  They want to connect, they want to love your character and they can’t do that if your character is Perfect.  Nobody’s perfect.  Stories stagnate when they can’t grow.  Let your story grow.  Let your characters grow.

[blakescoven]

Undress Rehearsal (Duncan Shepherd x fem!Reader)

Summary: You got a fashion degree and moved to DC to work as stylist assistant. Unexpectedly you meet a familiar face during a meeting and it seems there’s a spark between you two...but things may take a wrong turn.

A/N: Hey lovelies!! This is my first fic EVER, so be nice! Also, forgive any grammar mistake (English isn’t my first language). Since the ending is kinda open, I guess I could write a PART 2. I’m so happy to finally be able to post this one-shot, even though it sucks! I’d appreciate every comment/reblog/DM about it and about how I could actually improve my writing. This is a sort of experiment! I’m still trying to figure out “my style”. Oh and this is important: bold type means flashback, italics are Y/N’s thoughts and // means a few days passed! ENJOY and thank you for reading! I love you.

Warnings: mean!Duncan (just a little), making out and veeery light NSFW, plot!twist, lol I think that’s enough(?)

Word count: 6.1K

moodboard by the talented @hecohansen31​

You were late again. It happened twice this week. But how could that happen? You had always been a punctual and reliable person, at night you ensured that the alarm was correctly set and you never went to bed too late, afraid to not being able to wake up the morning after. So how could it be possible? Maybe because of your jetlag, but after almost a month, well, this had become a really bad excuse. Then perhaps, the frenetic pace was already affecting you that much, making you too tired to hurry up and get ready. This couldn’t happen again; you were jeopardizing your new dream job because of this straggler behavior. While you were running along the streets of Washington DC, those were your recurring thoughts. Your wheezing and the speeded-up heartbeats, pounding in your hears, were drowning out any deafening noise coming from cars and traffic, which always filled the city driveways.

From the early hours of the day, the avenues were swarming with people going to their office, each of them withdrawn into oneself, busy minding their own business with their smartphones, bringing takeaway breakfast on the other hand. You were way too anxious and distracted from running breathlessly; you had already bumped into three stupid human beings, slowly strolling down the sidewalk like damn sloths. Every single step was followed by a quick glance at your cellphone screen, checking the time and ensuring there was no missed call of your boss.

If you knew anything in this world, it was that you had to take this job seriously, dealing with the fact that your exhausting dues would have allowed your eager ass to work your way up and finally become a fashion designer. So, you didn’t expect any great satisfaction to come very soon. And starting from the bottom was really tough. After years of studying and a well-deserved university degree, you were prepared for whatever the future might have brought. Despite that, you didn’t expect at all to end up in DC, working as a stylist assistant. Sure, this would have opened the door to your real dream job, be part of the style department, designing collections for a luxury brand. You had tried your luck moving to New York, but you ended up broke, with no savings left and no available job opening. For this reason, you decided to take that chance here. You hadn’t made any progress till now though. You were new, yes, but your tasks and assignments were hardly restricted to bring coffee or running around the Capital with tons of garment bags for upcoming fittings.

Finally, after that insane 3km rush, without even stopping for a second - no, you couldn’t afford an Uber ride every time -, you arrived. Your feet hurt like hell, your cheeks covered with scarlet shades like the worst of sunburns and your breath coming in short gasps…and your hair, oh dear Lord, it was a mess. You were sure you were also sweating. Luckily, Richard, your boss, was quite nice to you and somewhat tolerant; he was sincerely impressed by all your efforts, skills and abilities, so much that he wasn’t utterly certain what you were doing there.

Five minutes past the established hour and, thank God, the client hadn’t arrived yet. You didn’t have much information or details about that meeting. You only knew that you had to help during a fitting for a client, extremely influential on the political scene. He needed a few new looks and outfits for public appearances, interviews, and fundraising events. Of course, you assumed he would have been an old middle-aged white man, with too much money to count and eager for power.

Mr moneybags is getting late tho. Too busy making grands? you thought.

Meanwhile, you were trying to look more presentable, also to not risk damaging the brand reputation.

“Y/N?”

Your calves burned and, in that moment, you thought that bringing extra sneakers would have been a good idea.

“Y/N?!”

Since the client hadn’t arrived yet, maybe you could sit down and rest for a minute on that super comfy booth near the mirror…

“Y/N!!!! HELLOO!!!” Your train of thoughts was abruptly interrupted by your boss’ yells, which suddenly caught your attention.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, I zoned out! Forgive me, what can I do for you?”

The man, a healthy and elegant 40ish brunette, looked at you concerned “Y/N I know it’s hard to settle down, but I need you to be 100% focused today. The man who’s coming is a big deal for us, he’s a powerful figure in Washington politics! He has recently taken her mother’s place as CEO of the family company. So, I want us to make a good impression!” after saying that, he looked at you from head to toe, a bit baffled.

“So…” he continued “…I need you to – in that moment you really hoped you were about to receive a major task, finally a turning point – ..to run to the bar across the street and buy some coffee, and come back quickly!” All your expectations fell apart in a sea of disappointment. “Hurry up!”

You put on a forced smile and went straight to the exit.

After having waited in line for centuries, you figured that probably the client had to have arrived, and therefore, just as you had started your day, you came back running as fast as you could, to save time.

You were holding the coffee cups in your left hand, while you were struggling to turn off your phone, which had started ringing. Opening the glass door with your hip, you were still trying to silence the ringtone, this, without even minding where put your feet up. Ugh, mom, stop calling me...always the worst timing! you screamed in your own mind, frowning. Before you could slow down your steps, one of your heels didn’t grip well the lacquered floor, making you stumble and trip. A sudden change in your balance and you couldn’t avoid slipping forward, causing the not-so-angelic flying of coffee directly on the special guest of the situation.

Damn it.

And to make matters worse, you fell to the ground, cursing the day you were born. Hell no, it can’t have really happened to me. You had just made a complete ass of yourself. You would have rather sink below the waves into the oblivion.

“OH SHIT SHIT SHIT I-I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know h-how it happened!” you were apologizing, still keeping your eyes fixed on the once-full cups rolling down the parquet, next to your badly chipped mobile touchscreen.

“The floor must be slippery…please let me make it up to you, I ca- ” you stopped all of a sudden when you lifted your gaze, for the first time since you had stepped in. Standing in front of you there was the most attractive man you’d ever seen. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on you, like two burning flames almost forming deep holes in your soul.

It’s hot in here or it’s just me?

He was tall and his toned arms were easily visible through the once-white shirt. Now that expensive fashion piece was all covered by a huge stain of hot coffee. And it was your fault. You were speechless. Your attention all focused on the man’s features. Your gaze was busy running down those perfect shaped cheekbones and the sharp jawline. Oh boy, gods’ gift indeed.

Oddly familiar to you though.

You clearly remained to stare for too long to not be noticed, because the man himself broke the silence.

“Uhm, don’t worry” he seemed taken aback for a second “I’ll send it to the cleaners or I’ll throw it away, I don’t care” he said, immediately composing himself, while carefully unbuttoning the ruined shirt, with those long fingers... You were blushing. His low soothing voice sent shivers down your spine. But his tone was plain, no apparent emotion, he seemed almost indifferent, maybe even a little annoyed. Ah, pompous ass.

Your attention was caught by your boss, who, with a worried voice, while pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed, proposed him to choose another shirt among the others and take it as an apology gift. The man accepted, nodding with a crooked smile and with smug remarks about the needlessness of gifts for a man as rich as him.

Cocky asshole! You mused, with a roll of her eyes.

Anxious to change the subject, Richard, started the introductions. “Mr Shepherd, she is my smart – but clearly clumsy – assistant, Y/N” at that very moment that name awoke the memories in your mind.

No. It can’t be true.

“Well, nice to meet you” he remarked “Y/N”, repeating your name like he was tasting it on his own tongue “..or so.” he added, with a stupid smug grin on his breathtaking face. When they shook hands, you felt a sort of jolt and realized you had been holding your breath all this time. You remained silent.

That was the same man you met 6 months ago on the flight you took to go to New York, when you moved for the first time. It was him the influential man of the meeting.

Duncan-fucking-Shepherd.

//

Duncan. This name was the only thing in your mind right now, while you were lying on the couch, in your little apartment, with a glass of wine loosely resting on your lower lip. Oh my God, did he recognize me? Did he figure out it was me? How had he called me that day? Oh, his angel, right. Fuck.

Your head hurt, but you couldn’t help but keep on repeat your two first meetings again and again in your mind. The Duncan Shepherd from today was completely different, compared to the man you had encountered on that plane.

He hadn’t talked about himself very much, just spilled that he was a businessman traveling for work. You had immediately noticed how mature he was to be in his late 20ish. And incredibly handsome. And charming. And seductive.

Ok, stop.

You still couldn’t understand why you. Among all the attractive available women he could easily have, during all the time of the flight, he had been flirting with you. You. He made you feel sexy, desirable and safe, after a very long time.

It was the first class. You were there because of a lucky misunderstanding. While the plane was taking off, you two had a moment, since he saw you panicking. You had started talking for real only two hours after having left Milan. The conversation started casually, then developed into a flirty game. Little did you knew that a few hours later, you would eventually find yourselves making out so much intensely, whilst the rest of the passengers was sleeping with lights off. This wasn’t like you; you were strangers after all. Damn, you only knew his first name. But you couldn’t help your crazy attraction towards him. A sort of electricity, a particular connection that you had never felt with anybody else in your life.

You were staring off into space, completely lost in your inner thoughts, while biting hard your lip and fidgeting with the hem of your oversize t-shirt. You nervously swallowed and closed your eyes. Your hand began to move from the fabric and wander over your bare legs, brushing them with your fingertips. Throwing back your head and swallowing again, you frowned and sighed. You couldn’t make those thoughts disappear. He got under your skin and no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake him.

His soft lips on yours, hot and peachy, the trailing of his wet open-mouthed kisses along your throat and the series of marks he was leaving on your skin, on the way down your collarbone. Feeling the smile of the other against your lips as you two kissed. The best feeling in the world. His small moans when you had pulled his lower lips between your teeth, while his hands were touching and roaming all over your body, as if he wanted to memorize each spot, each curve, each part of you. “Baby I wish it was just the two of us right now, damn, I want you so badly” he whispered. God, if they had been alone, you’d have gone further for sure. You were both turned on, you could tell, especially from the prominent bulge on his designer pants. All you wanted was to climb on top of him, straddling his hips, panting in his hear and feel his hot breath all over you. Intense was the craving to undress him, feel his skin against yours. Shit, it was like a living a dream.

The meeting had been canceled and rescheduled for tomorrow. The situation was quite unpleasant. What you were supposed to do now?

//

Judgment Day had come. You hadn’t slept at all, all night spent tossing and turning between the sheets and looking at the ceiling. How were you supposed to act now? Should you have mentioned anything? What was really killing you, was the feeling that ‘your moment’ had meant nothing for him. Yes, after 6 months, you had gone over it, also because you had no idea how to contact him. But after seeing him again, all the buried thrills came rushing back. You absolutely needed to test the waters today. What did you have to lose? Well, your dignity maybe. If he wanted to, Duncan could have easily said something. And of course, a man of his status could have anything, or anybody, he wanted. Maybe you were overthinking, maybe not.

Since it was almost dawn, and the sun was peeking through the blinds, creating a delicate play of lights and shadows on the curtains, you decided you could actually distract yourself choosing what to wear for the meeting. You shouldn’t have done it. Your bedroom had become a battlefield, all your clothes scattered all over it, like some lifeless leftovers of the closet, now empty. Almost like a little bomb went off. You kept trying combinations on combinations, each time taking off the pieces and throwing them away anywhere around you, as if you were on the verge of a breakdown. It was still a business meeting; you couldn’t dress up too revealing or doll up too much. But at the same time, you’d never give up on being yourself and express your personality through what you wore. Respecting yourself was the most important thing. Self-love. However, this didn’t solve the problem at all. You wanted to appear at your best, challenge him, in a subtle way.

On your way to the office, an unexpected call tuned you away from your own thoughts.

“Richard! Good morning! Are you calling me for coffee? Because I’ve already stopped off at the bar, now tell me who is the best assistant in the whole world?! And I’m not even late!” your smile vanished as soon as your boss answered.

“WHAT?! What does it mean you won’t be there today?” Your heart skipped a beat and started pumping so much blood through your veins, that you felt as a heatwave was rushing inside of you. “W-well if you have family issues, we agree that it’s necessary to postpone the gathering..I-” your eyes widened at the realization that you’d be alone. With Duncan.

You almost fainted on the spot.

“I’m sure you can handle it on your own! You can still reach me with a phone call, if you ever need me. Plus, don’t you think this would be the right chance to prove yourself and finally level up, get noticed and considered for that vacant position in the style & design dep.? My money’s on you, girl!”

How could you blame him, though? He was always so encouraging.

You sighed through the phone, so he added “Look, it won’t be hard. Remember that Mr Shepherd is in your hands. We have to turn him into one of the brand advocates; he’s young, a self-made man, the best choice to promote the brand awareness. It’s up to you now.”

Wow, that’s very reassuring you figured, shaking your head.

“Ok, you can do this, I have to go now, let me know how it goes. Bye!” Fuck.

“W-wait! I can’t do that withou-” he has already hung up. Looking up to the sky and letting out a frustrating grunt, you allowed yourself a childish whine and mumbled a ‘why me’.

Now you were standing outside the building, trying to collect yourself before entering. You were wearing an oversized see-through blouse, tucked in a black knee-length skirt, and an *accent color* blazer with rolled-up sleeves, to complete the look. You were ready to fight. No more clumsy bullshit.

Breathe, remember to breathe you reminded yourself, looking at the elevator door.

You strode next to the receptionist’s desk, Tiffany, or, as you liked to call her, ‘Crazypants’; since her eyes were always so disturbingly wide open – Does she ever blink? – and her hair painfully pinned back, so tight that must have hurt her. She seemed a cross between a barbie and a psycho killer. As soon as you walked by her desk, Crazypants greeted you overly excited, calling you with her earsplitting high-pitched voice. You put on your fakest smile and replied,

“Morning Tiff, uhm, I wish I could stay and chat, but I have work to-”

“The client is already here. He’s waiting for you in the fitting room” she winked. Hell, you hoped your blushing wasn’t so obvious, you couldn’t even have a few minutes to be psychologically prepared. Well, maybe better pull off the band-aid.

“Thank you for warning me! I’ll be right there” you answered. Not even before your exams you felt all this pressure.

Why is it always so hot?!

Walking along the hallway as if you were going to your own execution, you found yourself in front of the door of the rehearsal room. You gently opened it and entered. Do you know when, at some point in movies, there’s a slow-motion moment with background music?! There it was. Precisely. He had his back turned, gazing the skyline through the glass wall. And the second he heard the clicking of a pair of heels, he turned his head, smiling at you and looking intensely at your figure. You were about to die for real now.

How could someone be so beautiful?

His hair perfectly styled, his hot stubble,... Oh, that stubble was your weakness. You could already feel it between your legs and…

“Hey hey, easy with that” he teased with his deep honeyed voice, pointing the take-out coffee cups you were holding. You winced and giggled

“I’ll never stop apologizing about that, ehm, incident…but if you want one, go ahead!”

You looked at each other smiling for a while, until you had to break the silence and eventually get down to business. “So, I guess it’s better if we start…Mr Shepherd, so then you’ll be free to go back to work”, he exhaled and nodded

“Oh please, just call me Duncan.”

You saw a sort of shift in his features. His face went blank. He adopted a bossier and intimidating position, like last time. Ok, maybe he just wants to keep it professional, I understand.

“When is Richard coming?” he questioned while taking his trench coat off. “To be honest, it’ll just be me today, but it’s all right, you’re in good hands” you slightly smiled. He sighed again and you rose your eyebrow, taking it as an unspoken insult.

“Is there a problem?”

“Well, yes, I didn’t come here to waste my time with a newbie assistant.” Your jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

“No need to get upset darling, this is what you are, after all” he stated shrugging. You were speechless; yes, you were an assistant, but the way he said that, as if you were a dumb zero…What an asshole.

“Oookay, since I’m here..let’s continue” he glanced at you, waiting for her next move. “I agree, you can change in the wa-” you paused; he was literally undressing in front of you.

“What? There’s nothing you’ve never seen...I guess” You were confused…was he teasing you or something? “You should be more professional, I’m saying it for you”, your rage slowly increasing and flowing throughout your entire body. He was a completely different man, with all those unnecessary mean remarks. He gave you mixed feelings. You would have punched him, but at the same time, contemplating his perfectly-shaped heavenly body, his toned muscles, his thighs..you wanted to jump on him, kiss him and be his, in every way possible.

“You’re staring.”

“W-what?! No. I’m waiting for you to finish undressing, so I can give you the first change to wear..”

“Sure.”

You’d already had enough of his attitude. “I suggest starting with this evening suit, since Richard told me you’ll attend a charity gala in a few days.”

“Hush, please, save it. I don’t need all your pointless suggestions. I can handle it by myself.” he seemed almost..angry? You didn’t know how to hit back anymore. Why was he acting like that, all of a sudden? He tried on a few different outfits while you were staying there, silent, shifting your weight from a leg to another, your eyes wandering through the room, your lips pressed into a thin line and your mind trying to figure out what was happening. Duncan, noticing the tapping of your fingers on your thigh, rolled his eyes and gave you an annoyed look.

Then he huffed “Impatient, uh?”

You were hovering on the brink of an outburst.

“Why don’t you do your job and bring me some water, or take notes, or whatever you get paid for?”

“My job is helping you find a set of appropriate clothes for various occasions, trying to create the right mix & match that suits your taste and personality...” you retorted in a plain tone.

“Oh, thanks for the not required explanation, Wikipedia..”

“..but I’m not stupid, I know what a fucking stylist does” he was pushing your buttons.

“If you’d allow me to do my job, instead of questioning me, I could recommend something..”

“No need to whine, baby girl…So do it, instead of staying there like a scared little girl.”

“If relying on someone to select your wardrobe really bothers you..why don’t you choose them by yourself?” you sassed, struggling to remain polite.

“Well, I’ve demanded the help of a professional, not that of a ‘coffee-bringer’…and I’m wasting my time here”.

Ok, that’s enough.

He was still a client, but for you being treated like that wasn’t acceptable anymore. “You know what? I don’t fucking care if I get fired after saying these words. But I’m done with your dumbass comments. You’re a douchebag. I’m trying to do my job and, just because you’re rich and influential, you think you can treat me like that. Like I’m trash?” you were finally giving in to an outburst “The saddest thing is that I really hoped you would remember me. About that moment we shared 6 months ago, on that flight to New York. But obviously, I’ve given it much thought. Turns out that I’m just one of many, aren’t I? I’ve been thinking about you for weeks and when I saw you again, it all came flooding back. I’m so stupid. It’s not your fault, I was wrong to think that day could have really meant something.”

While talking, you were struggling to hold back the tears, you weren’t supposed to look pathetic, but your eyes were already watering. “So, do me a favor: end this meeting now. I’ll call Richard and tell him to take care of you, since you do not believe I’m capable enough to fulfill your needs..”

“..oh and don’t worry about seeing me again, I don’t want anything to do with you! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” you spat, entering the small wardrobe room, without bothering to switch on the light, hoping that your angry tears would have remained unnoticed in the darkness and that Duncan would have gone for good. So you started moving crutches on the clothes stand, to make room for those outfits to restock over.

Unexpectedly you felt an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. It was Duncan. He hadn’t left.

His body pressed against yours, you were paralyzed, his arms keeping a firm grip on you. What’s happening? You knew you should have pushed him back and kick him out, but something inside you decided against it. It was like a part of your dumb heart wanted to stay still in that position forever. You two remained silent, until he whispered in your hear, with his hot breath and his cologne filling your nostrils - a mixture of cinnamon, sandalwood and tobacco.

“I’m sorry..” he sighed. He sounded sincere.

“..I went too far.”

Now your own hands were resting upon his arms. You could feel the heat his body was radiating right now. With a honeyed soft tone, he murmured “Please forgive me, I don’t know what came over me. It’s just that having you standing here again, in front of me, stunned me. I didn’t know what to do and I misunderstood your demeanor. I thought you were pretending nothing had happened, or that you didn’t recall that day, or that you simply didn’t care.”

His hold slowly loosened, allowing you to turn around and look at him with narrowed eyes and a puzzled expression, without a word.

“Uhm, I’m not very good at communicating my emotions, but you’re right. I’ve been a dick. You didn’t deserve it, but I was overwhelmed by the attempt to suppress my own feelings. Since I saw you again,”

he paused,

“you are all I can think about.” he admitted, stroking your tear-stained cheek with his thumb, but you tried to resist him,

“I hope you’re not trying to play me, because otherwise I’ll smash that stupid hot smirk to the ground.”

“So do you think I’m hot, uh?!”

“You dumbass.”

“God, you’re so damn sexy when you’re mad.” he teased, coming closer.

“What?” you giggled. He stared at your lips “I just can’t stop thinking about kissing you right now…” and unexpectedly, his hand drifted to your hip, pulling you even closer. You inhaled deeply. You were against his warm chest, sculpted to perfection. Why must he be so perfect? You placed your hand against it, intending to push him away, but instead you left it there. You froze, from both fear and excitement.

You two stared into each other’s eyes and his breathing quickened as did yours. He slowly leaned in, so his forehead rested against yours. You closed your eyes. Your faces were inches apart now, and he lightly traced your lips with one finger. His other hand placed behind your neck, shortening the distance even more.

Your noses bumped and your mouths matched up slightly-opened, breathing each other’s air directly. He brushed his lips against yours and you freaking loved it. You loved the way your body melted into his. The way your lips perfectly fitted like two puzzle pieces. The way Duncan held you tighter and tighter. It sent shivers down your back. His only desire was to touch you, to move his hands under your layers and feel your smooth skin.

You two broke the kiss for a second to catch your breath. Then he pulled you in, claiming your mouth again, hungry and intense. Duncan lowered his hands down your hips, cupping your ass and dragging you impossibly close. You deepened the kiss swallowing his groan of pleasure as you lost into each other, no space between you two. His hands were exploring your body, while you grabbed his hair tightly to restrain your own moans.

Slowly, you started exploring each other’s mouths with your tongues. Sometimes sucking his lower lip and biting it a little bit. He started kissing your jaw and leaving hickeys on your neck. He didn’t want to let you go, so he pulled you again and kissed you so hard, with much more intensity. He squeezed you, suggesting that he wasn’t going to stop. You didn’t mind at all and continued making out.

He slowly put his hands under your blouse, trying to reach and unhook your bra, eager to run his fingers along your breasts and rub it. You began unbuttoning his button-down, seductively leaving wet kisses and love bites on his chest. He moaned. Then Duncan raised your blouse and took it off completely, so he could see you.

“You’re beautiful” he purred, and started massaging your chest and kissing it hardly, licking and biting gently your nipple. While Duncan was playing with your body, you could only keep on tugging his hair, making his moans vibrate against your body. Then he kneeled down kissing your stomach.

Both of you couldn’t silent your groans anymore, the entire room was filled by sexual noises. But you didn’t care at all. You knew where it was going. Duncan pushed you against a wall, grinding on you and you could clearly feel his hardness pressed against your body. You needed more friction.

“Jump.” he suddenly hinted, and used his veiny arms to hold you up by your thighs lifting you off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Your core was throbbing at that very moment.

But you were brought back to planet Earth right after; that divine feeling was ruined by a pesky thought that clouded your mind.

What if he’s just interested in sex?

He sensed your sudden slowing down. “If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he whispered. When you remained silent, he brushed his mouth against your temple,

“Or now.”

he followed the line of your cheekbone,

“Or now.”

now he was kissing your chin,

“Or—”

then your lips were against his, again. You kept undressing slowly, savoring the moment.

But that damn thought came back, stuck in your mind. And eventually it hit you. “Wait…wait” you said, trying to steady your breathing.

“What’s wrong angel? I did something wrong or..” he questioned worriedly. “No, not at all, it was perfect..but I don’t think this is right.”

“Wait what?! Why?” Duncan replied in disbelief.

“I’m not a yes girl, Duncan. I’m not looking for casual hookups, I really want to know you better and see where this leads us.” you smiled reassuringly, caressing his cheek. You were scared as fuck. Maybe he wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship, just random booty calls. But you had to take the risk. You wanted to.

“Uhm..yeah. I guess that sounds fair enough.” he chuckled and you released the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “How about a coffee date? I know a place, it’s quite secluded, to not attract the attention of press and journalists” you tilted your head and frowned,

“What do you mean?”

“Angel, I don’t want you to be targeted by newspapers, they aim to find some dirt on me and make every aspect of my private life public. I prefer keeping a low profile, and put you in an uncomfortable position is the last thing I would want.” “Oh, ok. I got it.” you were a little thoughtful, to be honest. But in that moment, you would have agreed with everything he was saying. You used every inch of strength you had, to stop and not go further. Not that there was anything wrong with that. You just wished to learn more about that handsome man in front of you; his desires, his passions, his values and aspirations.

“I’d better get back to work, they’ll wonder what happened to me.” he smirked. “Yeah, you better hurry up, then” you laughed, while putting your blouse on. “I’m gonna put aside the chosen clothes” you informed, but before you could leave the cramped room, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back in his arms, giving a last soft peck on your lips.

“How can I focus now, with the thought of you against me?!”

“You’ll have to make do with the memory..” you shot back “..for now.” you cooed, whispering in his hear.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch. You had exchanged numbers and with all those texts you were sending to each other, you felt like a schoolgirl again. Nothing could have ruined that sensation. Before going back home, Richard called you, questioning you about the meeting, not noticing your struggle to not make disconnected sentences or beat around the bush, to hide your embarrassment. Then, to thank you for having his back, he gave you another assignment: a high-society lady had requested a selection of gowns to choose, to attend a few fundraising events. Another important add-on for your CV. A few more efforts and they would have finally offered you the long-awaited position in the creative team.

//

The consultation had been set up two days later, you had to go to the customer’s penthouse this time. Ugh, lazy rich people. You rang the doorbell and right after you were greeted by a thin blonde girl, all fake boobs and tinted tips, wearing a dress that seemed closer to a long top, rather than an actual dress.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Come in! I’ll be right back” she yelled. You came in holding the garment bag; you were shocked when you found out how actually big the apartment was: super modern, black & white themed and with some art hanging on the walls.

Uhm, de gustibus you muttered to yourself.

“Here I am, sorry for the waiting. I am Madison!” Why rich people seem so reluctant to share their last name with me? you mused, smiling to yourself.

“Let’s start, shall we?”

And then Madison took you to what has to be her large bedroom. Odd. That seemed more like a bachelor to you, but judging wasn’t your thing.

The fitting went smooth as silk. This Madison was a bombshell, every single dress fitted her body as it was sewn on her. For the upcoming event she chose a nude silk dress, that perfectly matched her skin tone. She looked pretty excited for the pick, so much that she started screaming and calling out loud, making you aware that there was someone else around.

“Muffin come here!!! I chose the dress!! It’s perfect oh my God! You must see it before I take it off!”

MUFFIN.

Seriously? Do not laugh, please, do not laugh.

You were biting her lip a little too hard. While Madison kept calling her…muffin, you decided to do something and began packing all the stuff back up into the bag.

“Oh finally, you walk so slow, babe…now, look! What do you think?” Before the man could answer she continued “Oh wait, how rude I am. Y/N, this is my fiancé...”

As soon as you turned around and lifted your gaze, your heart stopped beating.

“…Duncan!”

His smile soon disappeared too, replaced by a shocked and guilty expression, like a deer caught in the headlights. You froze in place.

You were trying to hold back the impending flood of tears, washing it away with your anger. A million different feelings rushed through you, but at the same time you couldn’t feel anything, just your own heart, literally breaking down in pieces.

“Do you already know each other?” Madison asked, noting Duncan’s surprise. You gathered all the strength left within you and stated

“Just one of the many customers.”

Then, lowering your broken voice, you sputtered a “Now I really have to go.”

Without saying anything more, you took the garment bag and run straight to the door, shutting it down behind your back. Right after, a teardrop rolled over your cheek, and your eyes started watering. Once that the first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. Before turning into a sobbing mess, you walked fast down the hallway, reaching the elevator and waiting for the doors to open up.

Before you could take another step, a large hand took you by the wrist, keeping you in place. You turned around and instantly pushed him back, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“Please,” he begged,

“Let me explain. Please, I don’t want to lose you! We have something..w-we can talk about it, please, wait!”

“Go to Hell” you snapped;

and then you shoved his hand away, entering the elevator. Stupid. I am so fucking stupid. You two looked at each other one last time, shedding tears. The eyes of both soaking blatantly. And then the doors shut.

That heartbreak felt like concrete drying in your chest.

________________________________________________________________

Tagging: (I hope you don’t mind BUT tell me if you want to be removed, I was just curious to know your opinion about it, if you'd like to read it) MUCH LOVE @ladynuwanda @hecohansen31 @michael-langdon-appreciation @sojournmichael @so-langdon @stupidocupido @sammythankyou @emmyrosee​ 

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Fifty-Six: Can’t Be Sure ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Shisui ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

He knew it would start happening eventually. It was inevitable. The way the fringes of the crowd had looked at Kakashi’s coronation - which doubled as the announcement of Itachi’s public pardon - gave Sasuke a knowing that they would have no peace. Between the two brothers, their list of crimes was more than long enough. Someone, somewhere, would retaliate.

He just never expected it to be quite this bad.

Back when he and Hinata first started talking about the possibility of being together, he’d warned her. At that point, at its worst, it was glares and mutters. Sometimes thrown mud, or shouted insults. None of which Sasuke minded, unless it was turned on someone other than himself...and already it had. Just being seen with him had subjected her to the occasional pitfall. But if they were to get serious - and even then Sasuke knew, if he was going to try a relationship, it would be all or nothing - she had to be ready for things to get worse.

A lot worse.

She told him she was already expecting it Already prepared for it. No longer was Hinata the shy little genin he barely remembered. The jōnin rank she bore then - even if she’d shifted departments to the police - had been earned the hard way. In most cases, she could handle herself, if it ever came to physical confrontations. And her kekkei genkai gave her an edge: it might not be the sensory ability Itachi’s wife could rely on, but at least it could let her see that which - to most - was unseen.

For a long while, it remained...somewhat unimportant. The insults kept up. As did the taunting, the object-throwing, the glowers at their backs.

...then there was the lone adversary that came after Itachi’s family. Right in the heart of the village. They’d been stopped, but also spouted off dangerous rhetoric that promised it would only be the beginning. That they weren’t acting alone, either.

They’d all reconvened in the manor, the trio still hidden away in the master bedroom as the matriarch tried to dry her children’s fearful tears.

Sasuke had never seen Itachi that angry before.

His temper was always cold, steely, sharp. Unconsciously he’d summoned his Sharingan as he stalked through the main room to pace off his agitation. Shisui looked tempted to do the same...but also held back to let Itachi have his moment.

“...they’re getting bolder.”

“But who are they?” Sasuke cut in, hands gesturing and displaying his being at a loss. “We have no idea where this is coming from - where the root of the problem lies.”

“This is new,” was Itachi’s curt retort. “Everything before this was child’s play. This...is another level. Something more serious, more...organized, and resolute. They meant to kill my family. I’m almost certain the enemy’s underestimation is all that saved them. They didn’t expect her to retaliate as...violently as she did.”

“Well she’s not known for it,” Shisui agreed dryly.

“So we don’t know who these people are?” Hinata asked, seated beside Sasuke and looking perturbed. “They haven’t made any loyalty claims?”

“Not yet...the culprit was taken to the station, but I’ve been informed T&I is taking a crack at them now. For the moment, we know nothing about their motives, their goals...we can’t be sure of anything.”

“All we do know is that anti-Uchiha efforts have official reached a new level of serious,” Shisui murmured, his usually-playful expression hardened. “...we have to be careful. Whoever these assholes are, they know our weak points.”

“Easy enough to guess,” Sasuke rebuked. “My skills are legendary...as are yours, and Itachi’s. Hinata is a seasoned shinobi.” He nodded toward the bedroom. “She’s a non-combat medic, and they’re five-year-olds. No shit they’d be hit first.”

Itachi’s pacing suddenly stilled, a hand over his eyes. “...I let this happen.”

“Like hell you did, they -!”

“I haven’t been putting enough measures in place. I left them open.”

“Who would expect an attack in broad daylight, in the middle of a crowded street?”

“That is the point: it was meant to be completely unexpected. Nowhere is safe. And no one.”

Having faded into quiet for a time, Hinata murmured, “...I don’t think this was meant to be a successful attack.”

“Why not?”

“Like you say...the circumstances were the least ideal. To me...this feels more like a test. Looking for weakness. You say she and the kids are the most vulnerable point. Then why do that? They wanted to be sure. Throw someone at us and see what would happen. And she proved she’s not as open a target as many would likely assume. I’m willing to bet there will be more like this. They’ll come at us from different angles. Randomly. Trying to find a gap in our defenses.”

“...the ones they’ll assume are most open are you two,” Sasuke replied. “My brother, cousin and I all have extreme reputations. They don’t need to test us: they know where we stand. But you two are wild cards. And also sentimental.”

“...for now, everyone must be on full alert,” Itachi commanded. “No one goes anywhere alone. I want a spare officer with my wife and children at all times when one of us is not available. Leave the houses - the district - as infrequently as possible. If they wish to put our defenses to the test...we will harden them.”

They all left the gathering with a clear feeling of edge. Shisui went to report to the Rokudaime, while Sasuke and Hinata lingered outside.

“I want to stay.”

“Out of the question.”

“But -?”

“The safest place for you is far away from me.”

Pale eyes went wide. “...are you telling me to leave?”

“I’m telling you it would be wise.”

“...I’m pretty sure that damage has already been done, Sasuke. Even if I leave now, if they’re extending their efforts to anyone involved with you, then...consider me marked.”

Sasuke’s scowl only darkened. “...I told you it would get bad.”

“And I agreed anyway! I’m not afraid -!”

“Have you considered that I am?”

...that brought her up short.

“...right now, there is an unknown threat, of unknown size, or strength, or origin, that is clearly trying to hunt us all down. Which likely includes you. While I doubt very much it would be easy for me, Itachi, or Shisui to be taken down, they -”

“Are you calling me weak?”

“I’m calling you vulnerable. Hinata, listen to me.” Sasuke put hands atop her shoulders, expression fervent. “...my brother was a nukenin for a decade. There’s little this world can throw at him that he can’t beat. Naruto and I are the strongest shinobi in the world. Shisui had a flee-on-sight order when he was fifteen, and survived a trial most wouldn’t have survived. He’s all the stronger now. I know you aren’t weak. But...you haven’t been through what we’ve been through. You aren’t used to being hunted. Hated. We are. We’ve lived it. For a long time. We have instincts against it. You, and Itachi’s wife, and the kids...you don’t. And I’m willing to bet the enemy has thought of that. I’m not saying you can’t take most people one-on-one. But you have to remember: whoever these people are? They’re not afraid to break laws to get to us. To play dirty. We don’t know how many there are - they might keep coming and coming until we’re all exhausted, and slip up. And if I -”

There was a break as his throat tightened. “...if I lost you...I’d probably do something very stupid. I’d rather let you go than know it was me who brought you to ruin.”

Staring silently, Hinata wilted. “...and I’d rather face this together than let you push me away.”

“Hinata -”

“You said it yourself: your family is powerful. So is mine! We made this alliance for a reason. To help keep the Uchiha safe. Even if you left me, we’d still be connected. I’d still be fighting for you, with you.” A gentle smile lifted her lips. “...so, why distress yourself by breaking us up...when it’s clear we’re strongest together?”

A single dark eye flickered between her pale pair. “...we’ll talk about it more later. But I do want you back in the Hyūga compound for tonight. Your father would kill me if you stayed here overnight, anyway.”

That earned a soft snort. “...all right. But I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Fine. I’ll walk you.”

They parted at the white-eyed clan’s gate, a pair of her kin taking her in. Sasuke just nodded as she left, not wanting to do much more in plain sight anyway. Head bowing, he mulled over the day, and his options. To his chagrin...she’s right. She’s always right.

So, with a sigh, he left her home behind...and headed back toward his own.

     Aaand late again - I'm still very sick, so I took most of the day off...but I'll be darned before I miss a day if I can really help it xD      Anywho, this is actually some meaty ALAS plot...stuff! The third arc of the story (aka everything post 699) is VERY canon divergent, and focuses on the Uchiha and their reintegration...and its difficulties. Not everyone is happy the Uchiha are back in Konoha, let alone alive. And that includes anyone tied to them, too.      Sasuke actually accidentally hinted at the problem, if one looks closely enough :3c      But yes, that's today's piece done! Now I'm going to go drown myself in a shower to try to wash this sickness away, then go crash ahaha - thank you so much for reading!

[chaniters]

Second Thoughts

FH Fanfic 2

A continuation of the last short fanfic, spoilers as well this time, no action scenes but some angst!

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Second Thoughts

You can’t but feel a great weight lifted from your shoulders. Mama Ortega is safe. The Cartel is ruthless and violent but is also the most powerful organization on both sides of the Mexican border since the great quake. And they think she’s part of the family.

Since they switched their focus from crime to dealing with the hero-drugs and boosts they’ve gained one of the greatest super-powered armies in the continent, and the farm can’t compete with that without the aid of the Army. And they’d never admit their precious experiments escaped and are wreaking havoc.

“I don’t like this” Ortega says at last. He’s been behind the wheel driving your jeep for 30 minutes trough hidden roads on your way back and not a word until now.

“It’s for the best. She’ll be safe here.”

“I know… it’s just… I don’t like leaving her here with all these criminals”

“You’ve got to have laws in the first place to have criminals. And the Cartel is the law here since the collapse. No one can mess with them, nor the Mexican government nor the West Coast Government. I’m not even sure the army could stop them now without a full-scale war”

“All those unstable mods… almost everything in there would be illegal outside this patch of insanity”

“You can visit anytime you want. They think you’ a cousin too”

“Fabulous. Being part of the Cartel. What I always wanted. Maybe they’ll invite me the next time they want to canoodle with the Catastrofiend.”

“You know what we're up against Ricardo.” You reply with your arms crossed. “This is the only way to make sure she’s safe”

“Yeah…” there’s a bitterness in his voice. You feel your heart sink.

It’s been rough these past weeks. Ever since the farm attacked and Ortega found out the whole picture you’ve been on the run. Temporary bases, hideouts. Charge’s reputation was obviously ruined when the media saw him and Retribution fighting together against the brotherhood. The Rangers got a lot of flak about that too.

Your main concern was Ortega’s mother tough. You always knew what they were capable of and she would be a perfect target to get to the both of you.

“I just can’t figure out why didn’t you tell me back then. We could have helped you know?”

“I didn’t know whom to trust. And it would have just made your targets back then”

“Yes, and all the lying worked out so well in the end, didn’t it?”

“I’m sorry” You look down biting your lip. “You know… we can put an end to this Ricardo.”

“Oh for the love of… not this again” he rolls his eyes

“I’m serious. You hand me over to the authorities, say I controlled your mind and forced you to do all this crap. You’ll be a hero again”

“Yeah right play the martyr… Like they’d even believe something like that. I’m immune to telepathy remember ?” He glares at you

"Yes, but I’m well beyond alpha level. They can’t tell what i can or cannot do!

He grumbles, exasperated "I already told you that’s not going to happen!

“Bu…”

“End of discussion!” he yells at you.

You stay silent for a few moments, but you can’t help bring it up again “But this wasn’t supposed to happen! This is my fight. I don’t see why you have to suffer for it. I already did enough damage as Retribution.”

He doesn’t answer and instead just keeps driving, stepping harder on the accelerator. The rest of the trip is silent. You don’t need to be a telepath to realize he’s probably in the foulest mood you’ve ever seen since you first met him.

-a few hours later-

After 20 minutes you finish your scan of the motel. You're taking no chances, and need to be thorough.

“It’s safe,” you say at last.

Ortega nods, and you both get off the jeep with your bags and do the check-in. It’ll be a long way back from Sinaloa back to Los Angeles. Should be about 22 hours drive, but in the state of disrepair the roads have been since the quakes made the area a complete nightmare and your need for unmonitored paths, it’s tricky telling how many days on the road you’ll need.

Only a double bed is available which would have made you blush in the path, but it’s nothing special right now. Ortega has been distant, silent and grumpier lately.

He just puts his bags on the side as he enters the room first and goes straight for the bathroom. You hear the shower going a moment after.

You fall on the bed and make yourself as small as possible feeling like shit while you wait your turn to shower. At least you both agreed from the beginning on who’s to blame about the whole situation.

The last few days have been so exhausting. You keep using your powers at every turn to make sure you're safe. All your plans have been altered since you need to include two for everything now. And Ortega’s not used to being a runaway which is a constant danger. But at least you don’t have to worry about Eden or Ortega’s mother too now.

You’ve gone overboard to ensure their safety but you know there’s no such thing. No, not really. And the price isn’t even yet paid in full.

The little voice creeps its way into your mind once more. It’s sweet but tastes of blood. " You’ve just handed his mom to the cartel you know? How could he ever forgive you?" and the punchlines don’t take long “It’d be better if you weren’t around”. “Maybe you should just hand yourself over. Wait until you can be sure he’s in the clear and get it all over with. Restore things to what they were and leave it all behind”

Misery and self-pity are interrupted however as Ortega emerges from a cloud of vapor from the bathroom, wearing only a towel. You sigh, stand up and walk past him with your own towel, again not a word. You can’t even look at him, the guilt is like a bag of bricks on your stomach.

The water runs hot. Very Hot, but you don’t change the temperature. Ortega was obsessed about your Tattoos at first which made you feel an awkward panic sensation every time he looked at them. It’s gotten to the point where you can tolerate it, but him seeing them now that he also happens to be mad at you is beyond your worst nightmares. You always expected anyone who saw them jump at your neck for being a filthy re-gene or a pathetic human-wannabee, but having an actual angry human see them is just too much…

You dry yourself without looking at the mirror, then slide onto your pajamas covering most of the tattoos. Obviously, he knows they're still there, but him not actually seeing them is a bit less scary.

Lights are out when you walk out of the bathroom and he’s in bed already. Fine… this is even better, you don’t want to argue and upset him again. Maybe if you just keep your mouth shut he’ll wake up in a better mood.

You enter the bed, and can’t help touching him lightly, but quickly move to your side trying not to intrude on his. He doesn’t seem to wake up. You gaze at him, with his closed eyes for a moment, then close yours as well.

If you don’t get some sleep you won’t be able to drive tomorrow and it’s your turn. You let your mind drift…

—intermission—

Cold metal in your mouth. His eyes tell you to do it and you can’t resist. Then… he… it…. turns… turns into Ortega… Ortega looks at you with disapproval and nods. He wants you to do it as well. His glare is so cold He won’t stop you from doing it this time. In fact, he'd be glad if you did. It’s time. You pull the trigger. You hear the sound of your gun go off… You are falling. Falling down the window again. You see the ground closing up. Hopefully, it will put an end to everything.

----Intermission—

“Hey. Hey Cyrus. Can you hear me?”

You struggle and gasp for air. As you open your eyes you notice Ortega right next to you staring intensely. He’s… concerned?

You notice your body is shivering uncontrollably. But he has a warm arm wrapped around you tightly. He’s very close. So close.

“Are you ok? It’s just a dream. You're safe”.

You gaze back at him, still shivering. You realize he’s touching you. Touching your skin. Without nanomesh or costumes. That just makes you shiver even more.

“Hey… hey, it’s ok. I’m here. Nothing’s wrong”

It does work. You manage to look back at him and your body seems to regain some sort of composure.

“I’m sorry Ricardo. For all of it. I’m a piece of shit. It's my fault that all of this is happening. I swear I’ll make it right. I’ll make it right!” Your eyes are full of tears.

“Cyrus stop apologizing already. I’m the one who chose to come with you remember ?” He takes a deep breath. “I’m just mad at all that’s happening. I’m mad at the government, I’m mad at myself, I’m mad about having to leave my mom there, and I’m mad at those homicidal freaks you call brothers and sisters, and yes I’m also mad at YOU because YOU are a pathological liar”

“I’m sorry” you whimper pathetically

“Stop. Apologizing” He says with a serious tone. “I’m not an idiot. I knew you had a secret, and I knew it would probably be horrible when you revealed it. We’ve been a team for a long time, it was obvious something was cooking up. I’m just… Look I had a lot of scenarios in my mind and none of this is what I expected.”

You just nod. Yes, who could blame him for not expecting his crush not to be human?

“But… I understand it now that you’ve come clean. I can’t even begin to figure out all the crap you’ve been through Cyrus. And I realize you're saving me a lot of the worse details. And I understand why you’ doing this, and that’s why I joined you ok?” he adds “I’m not going to tell you I’m happy about any of this. I keep feeling like I’m going to lose it. But we are going to keep it together, and YOU are not going to fall apart, ok?”

You listen to every word and nod slowly in the end.

“Now get some sleep, will you? We need to get a lot of stuff done and we won’t get to it if we can’t make a good time to Los Diablo and I haven’t forgotten It’s your turn to drive.”

You manage a weak smile. He notices and returns a smile of his own.

You pull in closer. He holds you tighter. You both kiss. You close your eyes You feel safe. Uncomfortable but safe, sleeping this close together is too hot and not pleasant at all, you wonder how they do it in the movies. But you are both too tired and fall asleep anyways. Cramps and sweat will be a problem for your future selves

The rest of the night you spend in a strange new dream you’ve never had before. You are looking for something or someone in a strange labyrinth full of turns and doors. When you finally find a center there turns out to be a mirror there, but you can’t see your reflection on it. No one can.

Meanwhile, Ortega couldn't sleep at all, his mind still racing with questions about you. 

.................................

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

Previous chapter: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/180182784039/fh-fanfic-mc-ortega

Next chapter: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/180367791684/fanfic-3-fallen-hero-chargestep

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[abdicatedarchive]

let me in || wren x chanel

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: spring 2020.

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: wren x chanel.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒: abortion mention tw.

𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒: TBD

"Nana, I have to go. I promise you I don't know anything about this and those ladies are lying because they want to start stuff. She could have also been picking it up for her mom" said the boy. He was desperate for anything, any answer. Wren ran over to Chanel's house after Nana straight up threatened to whoop his ass. He hadn't heard anything in town, and of course Nana heard about it first. Wren didn't even have time to think about what was going on, or how he was feeling. He just wanted to be there. He needed to be there. Wren blew past Tiffany, mumbling something about how it was important, and she just let him go. Wren arrived at Chanel's door and slammed it open, "Is it true? Tell me it was just for your mom" said Wren, lost as to what to say. It wasn't that it happened, they were both guilty of that. But she hadn't told him? After all this time? Wasn't he important to her? Wasn't he a part of this? He kept pacing, "Just tell me its for your mom, can't you order stuff like that on Amazon? Why is Nana asking me about it?" he said, at his wit's end.

Chanel wanted to deal with this on her own, she didn't need anyone else to know. The more people knew, the more real it would become. Her and Wren had been doing so good, she never thought she'd get to experienced a relationship like this. It was perfect, and she didn't want this to ruin it. Once she saw the pregnancy test results, she felt sick to her stomach. This was all such a disaster. She had spent all day in bed, and at this point, she thought she was all cried out. Then Wren came storming in, it practically made Chanel jump out of bed. The internal panic quickly kicked in once he started speaking. She thought she was doing such a good job at keeping this a secret. But everyone talked in Hastings, and with her family's shitty reputation, it only made sense that word would get around quick. She could already picture it. "Chanel Hampton getting pregnant in high school, who didn't see that coming?" "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree it seems." Just thinking of what people were going to say was driving her crazy. Chanel stayed silent for a moment, she didn't know what to say. She couldn't lie to him, but she didn't want to have this conversation. She just wanted all of this to be over. "Can we please not talk about this? I have everything figured out. Just ... just tell her it's a lie."

Wren would believe it if he was told that the whole town heard his heart break in that moment. Figured it out? He stopped dead in his tracks, all he felt was his poor beating heart. Figured it out without even telling him? He thought they were a team. He thought it was them against everybody else. Wren sat himself at the foot of her bed, and he felt a tear fall down his face. It wasn't the getting pregnant, it's that she didn't tell him. That she made all these decisions without him. That she was going through something and he wasn't the person she wanted to tell. Chanel Hampton, choosing to be alone in this world when he was the fool who wanted to be by her side through the good and bad. Wren felt like shit, that he had dragged her into all of his problems but she never said anything about hers. Like their whole relationship had been one sided, "Chanel" he said weakly as he looked over at her, "why haven't we talked about this?" She had asked to not talk about this, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to be there, he wanted all of her. That included the good and the bad, but he felt so betrayed by the fact that she wasn't sharing all of her. She was hiding from him. Everything felt like a lie. He thought that he knew her better than anyone, maybe he didn't.

Chanel could feel her heart sink as she noticed that Wren began to cry. She was unsure of what was actually hurting him. Her getting pregnant to begin with? Her saying she had it figured out and what that specifically meant? The fact that he found out from someone else that wasn't her? There were so many different possibilities as to what made him feel this way, and that was the worst part. No one made Chanel happier than Wren, it's always been like that. He brought this warm light into her cold, dark, lonely life. She wanted to be that light for Wren too, but sometimes she was so selfish. She would put herself first, like now. Even when she thought not telling him was best for everyone, including him, Chanel was still being inconsiderate. Whether she knew that or not. "What is there to talk about?" she asked as if this wasn't something important, but she knew it was. She was just scared. Scared of what this would do to their relationship, scared of what his family would think, scared of how her parents would react. "This is will all be over and we could just forget about it, okay?" she crawled over to the side of the bed Wren was on and placed her hand on the side of face to wipe away his tear. "We could just go back to normal."

When she put her hand on his face he put his hand on top of hers, holding the moment. There was so much importance in hands, how they interacted. "Chanel, I think we have different ideas of what normal is" said the boy quietly. "If you're going to treat me like some fragile thing, and keep me out of everything... I don't know if I want to return to that normal." They never fought about anything real, and when they did fight about stupid things it was all yelling. This was eerily quiet. The thickness of everything unsaid hanging in the air. "I can't even imagine how scary all of this is for you, but I could have been there to lean on. I want to be there. I just can't believe you don't want me there for you, you're ... you're breaking my heart, Chanel" said Wren. That was something really scary about having the real thing, it can really hurt you too. They had hurt each other before, but this was different. He couldn't look at her, he knew he would just melt if he did. That was the problem, this wasn't okay. He couldn't pretend like this was a thing that happened and it was over. There were so many layers of it all. He put his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. Isolating just as she had, with no one to lean on.

Something as simple as Wren placing his hand over hers put a smile on Chanel's face. For a moment, she thought he would agree and they'd get through all of this together with ease. Or as much ease as you could possible have. She didn't think she could get anymore stressed. But as he spoke, it was like the wind had completely been knocked out of her. She stayed completely still, she didn't even notice if she was breathing, until she opened her mouth to talk. "What?" the word came out almost as a whisper. Chanel hoped she was just jumping to conclusions and he didn't mean what she thought. "I'm not keeping you out of everything, I tell you everything. You know that. It was ... it was just this one thing, I promise." she shook her head as her eyes began to well up. "I didn't want this to ruin everything." She thought she was trying so hard to maintain what they had, couldn't he see that? Yes, she should have told him, but Chanel didn't think he would be this upset about it. "Of course I want you here with me, what are you talking about? I love you." Chanel placed her hand on Wren's shoulder and pushed gently to try and get him to sit up straight. She just wanted to look him in the eyes and tell him how much he meant to her, show him how honest she was being. "I love you." she repeated. "You know that, right?"

He felt her hand on his shoulder, here she was being there for him when she never let him be there for her. He thought about all the times he had had it rough, with his eating. When he didn't have the strength to physically move. How she ran out onto the court when he fainted during the big game. She was there for him, and he had let her in. It hadn't been easy, but he had done it. In his defense, it was different. Wren didn't fully understand his illness the way that you could understand a pregnancy test. He really had thought he was fine for a long time. Wren sat up and put his hand on the nape of her neck, their foreheads coming together to touch. "I know you love me, but you won't let me love you" he said, tears falling into their laps. "I want to be there, when it happens. Is that okay?" he whispered. Wren knew he needed to be there, he wanted to be there. This was all because of something they did, and he was going to regret it for the rest of his life if he wasn't.

Chanel thought she knew what heartbreak felt like, during homecoming night junior year. Once in that godforsaken hallway and again later that night in Wren's bedroom. But she was wrong. What she was feeling in the pit of her stomach right now was something she had never experienced before. The pain in her chest was so prominent, her heart was absolutely shattered to pieces after hearing him speak. You won't let me love you. She wasn't even sure how to process that. How long had she been causing this damage? How could she not tell? Did he really not love her? Did he ever love her? There was a part of her that was putting all the blame on herself, but of course with Chanel, there was always another part of her that needed to put the blame on someone else. Was Wren really about to throw their whole relationship out the window because of this? It's like he wasn't putting up a fight at all. He had completely given up on them. Chanel pulled back and nodded her head quickly, her eyes were starting to sting from the tears. "I mean, yeah. Of course that's okay." She didn't want to talk about any of that right now, the only thing she cared about was that they would still be together after this. "Are you ... are you really done? Just like that? Please just tell me I'm misunderstanding. You still want this, don't you?"

Wren looked over to her, "I just don't know how we can be together when you won't let me in" said the boy. His heart was pounding, he felt it sink to his stomach. "I want all of you, good and bad. Chanel, I gave you all of me and there's so much bad about me and you're still here. I love you so much, and I am going to be here through what you've decided. I support you. I am here. But I don't know how we're supposed to be a couple when you hide from me on something so big." He felt like such an ass, breaking up with her when this was all happening. He didn't even want to break up with her, but she didn't love him. She didn't. She couldn't. Not as much as he did, that was made clear today. "It's not the pregnancy or the abortion. It's that you thought you could just take care of things and never let me be there to hold your hand. That you didn't want it until you were forced into it because my Nana came home to yell at me" said the boy, his heart laying on the floor of his stomach. It made him hate that he had eaten, because there was so much turmoil in his stomach between his heart and the food he'd had today.

It was times like this where Chanel wished she would react a little more calmer to unexpected situations, but she was just too impulsive for her own good. In the moment, she didn't see much wrong with it, but eventually she would find herself with a lot of regret. Especially when it came to Wren. Chanel was no stranger to ruining relationships, romantic or not, but she didn't want this one with Wren to end up the same way most of her relationships did. He was the most important person in her life. Chanel furrowed her brows as he finished speaking, my Nana. The way Wren was speaking to her was already different. As if she was just some random person that meant nothing to him. How could he get rid of her so easily? "You love me? Or I won't let you love me? Cause if you loved me, wouldn't you try, at least a little more, to hold on to what we have?" she started to raise her voice, the frustration in her was building up. "You love me, but you're fine with completely dropping me?" It always seemed like the people Chanel loved the most couldn't care less about her. "After everything?" she asked, the tears continuing to flow down her face. "I wasn't trying to hurt you."

He had no choice but to put his walls back up. She had made it clear that he didn't deserve to be in the know about her, and he needed to be more guarded. Wren wasn't going to sit here and get his heart pummeled. "I love you as much as I can" said the boy, getting a little frustrated at her tone. "I am not fine with dropping you and I'm not dropping you, you dropped me!" he exclaimed. Wren was getting more and more mad, "it doesn't matter whether or not you were trying to hurt me, you did and you were totally fine with it until I knew!" It pained him to yell at her, but he was so upset at everything. How he had let her in like this just for her to not reciprocate it. He had spent more than a year opening up to her and being vulnerable about things that he didn't share with anyone, but something they shared happens and she can just not tell him about it? Ridiculous.

I love you as much as I can? What does that even mean? Chanel's thoughts were all over the place, she wasn't even allowing herself to really take in what Wren was saying. "I hid this one thing from you. Just this. That's all, I swear." She made it sound like this one thing wasn't a very big thing, but she wanted him to know that she wasn't always hiding from him. Chanel felt like she was always open with Wren, he was the only person that really understood her. "I'm not hiding, I'm not lying, and I did not drop you!" she yelled back. "I just ... I didn't want this to ruin everything we have. I was scared about how you'd react. This is exactly what I didn't want to happen, you just fucking leaving." Wren wouldn't have broken up with her because she got pregnant, he wasn't like that, but the fear of that actually happening took over. "Please, Laurie." her voice cracked as she spoke. She just didn't know what to do at this point.

This was a huge thing to hide, he couldn't just let it go. "Chanel, you dropped me the minute you decided I didn't need to know" said Wren, yelling back at her. "I wouldn't have, but I have no idea how I'm supposed to trust you when we're at different colleges next year. What's the next thing I don't need to know? The same thing your old boyfriends didn't need to know?" he snapped, he shouldn't have said that. "I shouldn't have said that, I just ... if we're not communicating now, how the hell are we going to communicate potentially thousands of miles apart" he said, his voice softer now. They had been keeping their college stuff quiet from each other, not trying to impact where they were going to go. When they had something to share, they just left the school name out when they were talking about how the college application process was making them feel.

Chanel was definitely excited for this next step in their lives, and if everything worked out the way she hoped, she'd be going to her dream culinary school. But she tried not to think about the fact that they'd be separated again. Hearing Wren bring up her old boyfriends was like a punch to the gut. Chanel kept quiet for a second, biting down on her bottom lip as a tear rolled down her cheek. She felt completely defeated at this point. It became clear that Wren was never going to fully trust her, he probably never did to begin with. Her past would stay with her forever, and she had no one to blame but herself. "I would never do that to you. Never." she spoke softly. "But I'm sure my words don't mean shit, so ... so just go. I wouldn't want you stressing about whether I'm messing around with other people in college or not. Have fun wherever you go."

He wanted to believe her so bad, but between his insecurities and this ... he didn't know how he could. His heart was breaking. How could he be letting her go? How could they keep hurting each other like this. "Just text me when it's time for your appointment. I'll drive you, and be there for it. If you'll still have me" he said softly as he got up and headed towards the door, standing in the doorway. Leaving meant it was over. He couldn't seem to make it through the threshold.

This was it, their relationship was coming to an end. After all these years they spent together, the friendship that they built as children. It was all over. She had lost Wren once before, and here she was losing him again, slipping right through her hands. Chanel held back to urge to run up and hug him. She wanted to tell him she was sorry and she'd never do something like this again, but her own stubbornness got in the way of that. "Yeah, okay." she spoke quietly as she sat back down her bed, pulling her knees in to hug them close to her. "I guess I'll see you then."

"Alright then" said Wren, swallowing hard as he took one last look at her for today. He shut the door behind him and took a long breath. He wanted to just open the door and crawl into bed with her and hold her. To be there for her, to tell her it was all going to be okay. He could do that at the appointment, he would do that at the appointment. He would be good to her, even if they were done. Fuck. They were done. He was no longer dating Chanel Hampton. The girl of his dreams. Fuck. He ran all the way home, but he couldn't go inside. He took a detour on his old path and kept running for what felt like hours.

Chanel immediately broke down into tears after Wren left. She was back where she started, all alone with no one by her side, and it crushed her. Sometimes she felt bad for putting so much of her happiness into Wren, but she had never been so loved by someone else before. It was a feeling she never wanted to lose. She felt so empty in this moment, and she knew it was only going to get worse. The appointment was coming closer and closer, and she could already feel word about this pregnancy spreading around town. There was no way to fix this. Chanel just couldn't keep anything good in her life, she always found a way to fuck it up.