#there are more team feelings here because i am nothing if not constant trash for sports families

[welllpthisishappening]

Tripping Over the Blue Line (33/45)

It’s a transition. That’s what Emma’s calling it. She’s transitioning from one team to another, from one coast to another and she’s definitely not worried. Nope. She’s fine. Really. She’s promised Mary Margaret ten times already. So she got fired. Whatever. She’s fine, ready to settle into life with the New York Rangers. She’s got a job to do. And she doesn’t care about Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers. At all.

He’s done. One more season and he’s a free agent and he’s out. It’s win or nothing for Killian. He’s going to win a Stanley Cup and then he’s going to stop being the face of the franchise and he’s going to go play for some other garbage team where his name won’t be used as puns in New York Post headlines. That’s the plan. And Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations isn’t going to change that. At all.

They are both horrible liars.

Rating: Mature Content Warnings: Swearing, eventual hockey-type violence AN: It’s deadline day! Regina’s phone battery is constantly dying, Killian is super stressed out and the New York media continues to be the worst. Just timeline-wise, in case you guys were wondering, we’re in March here and just about a month removed from the start of the playoffs, which last, approximately, forever in hockey. As always you guys continue to blow my mind with your response to this story, which would be nothing without @laurnorder, @distant-rose & @beautiful-swan.  Also hanging out on Ao3, FF.net and tag’ed up on Tumblr.

“What are those?” Killian asked, narrowing his eyes at his phone screen.

Emma laughed on the other line, several hundred miles and state lines away, and half a dozen of his organs seemed to contract at once. “You’ve never seen flowers before?” she asked, obviously stretching her arm out until the entire frame was just a sea of red roses.

“I am aware of what flowers are, Swan, I’m just curious why you’re sticking your phone in them.” The laugh was a huff now and Killian felt himself smiling out of instinct – and maybe missing her a bit more than he realized before this FaceTime phone call.

It was easier if he could see her though.

And it was deadline day.

She hadn’t even grumbled about how early it was – not really, but early by Emma-standards on a Sunday seemed to be any time before noon – and he was already at the arena and she was sitting in her office, feet propped up on her desk, just a few inches away from, what appeared, to be two dozen roses in the corner.

“Ok,” she said, spinning the camera back around until all he could see was her face and that infuriating piece of hair that never wanted to cooperate when she pulled it up into a ponytail. “Several things. First of all, I didn’t stick my phone into them. I was showing them to you. And second of all, shouldn’t you be at pre-game or at least in front of a locker?” The answer, of course, was yes. He should have been at his locker, at least, fifteen minutes ago and he had been – at least for a little while. He was, after all, already in pads, but then he could hear the media making their way into the room before puck drop at noon and, suddenly, there was nowhere in the entire world Killian Jones wanted to be less than in front of his visitor’s locker in Minnesota.

There was something almost oddly poetic about deadline day happening while they were in Minnesota. Anna had mentioned it several times in the last week – practically crowing about the vest Killian wore to coach his losing team and then announcing, in no unquestioned terms, that this road trip was some kind of sign.

It, apparently, meant something.

Killian only thought it meant he couldn’t be near his girlfriend when things, quite possibly, went to complete shit.

He’d never felt more clingy in his life.

“And,” Emma added, eyebrows pulled low like he hadn’t responded simply because he didn’t appreciate her first two points. “You’re the one who called me.” “Maybe I just wanted to talk to you,” Killian said, trying, and, failing to make his smile look convincing.

“Yuh huh.” “Who are the flowers from, Swan?” “Couldn’t you read the card? That’s why I moved the phone forward.” “I thought you were just pushing your phone into the vegetation.” “Vegetation,” she repeated and he’d probably be able to score six goals that afternoon fueled only on the sound of her laugh. “That’s awfully clinical.” Killian shrugged, pushing back into the corner he’d taken up residence in. “Where are you, anyway?” Emma continued.

“I have no idea honestly,” he said. “I walked out of the locker room, called you and found this very comfortable, dark corner that I’m considering claiming as my own.” “You’re half dressed though.” “Also true.” Emma clicked her tongue, mouth twisting slightly and he knew there were more questions, knew exactly what she wanted to ask – why he was considering claiming this very comfortable, dark corner as his own. He didn’t really have an answer.

At least he didn’t have an answer that wasn’t, simply, deadline day.

“Mrs. Vankald,” Emma said suddenly, voice catching him off guard. He nearly slid down the wall.

“What?” “Mrs. Vankald,” she repeated. The smile on her face probably could have helped set up several goals as well. He was primed for some kind of record day at this point. Maybe that would make the deadline easier to deal with.

“Mrs. V is sending you flowers.” “Was that supposed to be a question? It didn’t really sound like a question.” “I have no idea,” Killian said and, well, at least it was honest. Emma’s laugh sounded a little sad – that probably wouldn’t score any goals or notch any assists.

He needed to stop this train of thought.

He needed to go back to his locker.

He didn’t want to answer anymore questions.

Killian already felt like he’d stolen the charity game – and someday he was going to do something about stories coming out at the most inopportune moments, but it felt a little ungrateful to start spouting things about the media at this point in his career.

And Regina had told him – with a very specific look on her face – that he was only supposed to make comments on the games and the standings and how determined he was to win a Stanley Cup this season.

There would be no comments about the impending trade deadline or his contract or if the Rangers had changed their mind on that Cup Clause. Scarlet was still bragging about coming up with that.

Killian had checked him during morning skate.

“She wrote a note,” Emma added, voice barely above a whisper and, oh, he was an idiot. He’d thought, well, he’d thought a lot in the last week and she hadn’t even been upset about commandeering her event and the press for her event, just asked him to take her home and left a toothbrush on his sink like she belonged there.

She did.

He wanted her there. And he didn’t want to even consider another offer that afternoon – had told Regina that more times than he could remember at this point. Probably as often as she’d told him to only talk about the standing in post-game and pre-game and daily media availability.

He’d held up his end of the bargain.

He just hoped she had too.

And he hoped Emma wasn’t bordering somewhere close to terrified because Mrs. Vankald had leapt over the blue line and into the crease and was probably standing on top of the net now, swatting at anyone else who came close with a goalie stick, trying to make sure that this relationshipworked.

“I’ll call her,” Killian muttered, wondering when he’d find five seconds to do that when he was supposed to be at his locker already and on the ice in an hour and a half.

Emma blinked, jerking her head back slightly. “Wait, what?”

“What does the card say?” “That she was thankful for the tickets to Casino Night and getting Liam back on the ice and she really enjoyed the latest episode of Locked In. She called it that by the way, so she’s obviously listening to you because you’re the one who started a nickname for a fake show.” “Don’t let Locksley hear you call it fake,” he cut in, some of his nerves forgotten as soon as Emma’s eyes met his.

He wasn’t just clingy. He was far too emotional for his own good.

Maybe he’d get a few penalty minutes that afternoon too. Just to work out some of that residual emotion.

“Strangely enough, Robin Locksley isn’t FaceTiming me an hour and a half before he’s supposed to get on the ice,” Emma said knowingly, eyebrows lifting slightly. It didn’t sound like an accusation. It didn’t really have to.

Killian sank onto the ground, legs stretched out unceremoniously in front of him as he held his phone loosely in his hand. “Yeah, that’d probably be weird,” he admitted.

“Probably.” “They are nice flowers.” “Made my whole office smell like a garden instead of game-worn jerseys we’re going to sell.” “Why didn’t Kristoff take those?” Emma rolled her eyes and her chair creaked when she moved. “Because he’s got a million and one other things to deal with, especially if you guys get someone or several new someones later on today.” “Or lose someone.” It was like Emma had been waiting for it, eyebrows moving up her forehead slowly and with as much meaning as that almost accusation from a few minutes before. “Is that why you’re hiding in the corner, then?”

“No one is hiding.” “Alright,” she amended. That piece of hair would be the death of him. “No hiding. Is that why you’re mad about me getting flowers from Mrs. Vankald and threatening to call her?” “I probably should call her,” Killian admitted. They’d been at the charity game – several clichés exchanged via text messages about Liam getting back to the top of the hockey mountain and Killian had only half listened, that obnoxious little voice in the back of his head that liked to remind him how guilty he should feel at all times, rearing its head as soon as his brother laced up his skates.

Liam stayed at the brownstone and took them to dinner the day after the game and Killian had come up with several almost plausible excuses as to why he didn’t go. The Vankalds believed him. Liam didn’t.

Liam just nodded slowly, eyes bright and a very specific look on his face and he told Killian to say bye to Emma before he got in a cab and a flight back to Colorado.

He wished he’d won that charity game.

And not stolen Emma’s thunder.

The uncertainty of it all was, he was convinced, slowly driving him crazy.

“Hey,” Emma said softly, shaking him out of his own thoughts and that was probably for the best. “We agreed. No guilt circle.” She smiled and the voice in the back of his head quieted just a little. And, not for the first time, he wished she’d been able to come on the road trip.

Most of the front office had. Ruby was probably, at that very moment, trying to track him down and even Zelena had flown out to Minnesota on the off chance that they signed someone new. It didn’t feel like an off chance.

“There’s no circle, love,” Killian lied.

Emma laughed again, swinging her legs off her desk and nearly knocking off another stack of papers. “Sure. You always look like that then.” “Devilishly handsome.” “Jeez,” she sighed, shaking her head, but she didn’t actually object. That felt a bit like a victory. “Come on, fess up. What’s wrong?” There shouldn’t have been anything wrong.

It was deadline day, but that didn’t really mean anything to him. Or it shouldn’t. Because Killian knew Regina’s phone battery was almost always somewhere in the realm of critically low – she’d started carrying one of those portable charger things in her pocket now and Scarlet made a robot joke a few days ago that earned him several checks from Robin.

He wasn’t going anywhere, despite the rumors or the lack of rumors or however many calls Regina’s phone battery had to deal with.

And that was as terrifying as it was exciting and very, very permanent.

“Did someone else offer?” Emma asked and Killian would have been impressed if he weren’t so goddamn emotional. “You don’t think front office is going to do something stupid, do you? They wouldn’t do that.” “No, no, there’s no trade in my last deal. I don’t leave unless I want to leave.”

“And you don’t want to? Leave?” He snapped his head up so quickly he was worried he’d done permanent damage to his neck. Emma’s eyes kept darting between the flowers and the phone. “No, Swan,” Killian promised, doing his best to infuse two words with some kind of everything. “I’m good as is.” Good, better, perfect, slightly petrified that the flowers sitting on her desk meant more than two dozen red roses had ever meant in the history of the entire world.

“Good,” Emma said. “That makes two of us. And maybe I should get in on this phone call with Mrs. Vankald at some point.”

His neck was going to snap in half. It shouldn’t make that sound. And he shouldn’t have moved it that quickly, eyebrows practically ceiling-bound while the blush crept up Emma’s cheeks several hundred miles away.

“God damnit, Jones,” Ruby shouted at the far end of the hallway. She had her arms crossed and she must have been taking murder glare lessons from Regina because the resemblance was almost uncanny.

“Uh oh, someone’s secret hiding spot has been found out,” Emma mumbled. She was still blushing. Killian rolled his eyes.

“What do you need, Lucas?” he asked. The glare got more intense. He’d run out of wall space to slink into.

“You were supposed to be in front of your locker half an hour ago,” Ruby hissed, kicking at his outstretched leg like that had personally offended her as well.

Emma made a noise on the phone and Killian tried not to groan when Ruby yanked it out of his hands. “Is this your fault?” she demanded, but her voice lacked some of its bite when she started to talking to Emma.

“Nope,” Emma answered. “I’ve got a ton of stuff to do over here, man'ing home base as it were. We’re supposed to be preparing for whoever we get. I’ve got e-mail templates set with introducing fill in the blank ready to be sent to every season-ticket in the system.” “Efficient.” “Sometimes I’m good at my job.” “All the time,” Killian mumbled and Ruby scoffed.

“She already got your flowers Jones,” Ruby said. “No need to try and woo her anymore.” Emma’s face must have done something because Ruby’s eyes narrowed when neither one of them laughed appropriately at her joke. “What? Who are the flowers from?” “Mrs. Vankald,” Emma answered.

He was getting a headache. He was absolutely going to punch someone later. Roland would probably be the only one who enjoyed it.

Ruby’s mouth fell open slightly and Emma was pacing now – he could hear her footsteps on the video. “Isn’t that your mom?” Ruby asked, the soul of tact.

Killian made a noise, twisting his neck slightly. “It’s easier that way, I guess.” Ruby nodded – like she’d just found the last piece in a 500-piece puzzle – and Killian held his hand out expectantly for his phone. She didn’t give it to him. “You’ll both appreciate this a bit then,” she continued, tossing the newspaper Killian hadn’t noticed she was holding into his lap.

Another story.

Fuck.

He picked up that morning’s edition of The Post, flipping it over to the back out of instinct. “No, no, no,” Ruby corrected. “Right smack dab in the middle.” Killian’s eyes widened and the headache had moved down his neck and in between his shoulders and it felt almost palpable in the grip he had on the paper. “What’s going on?” Emma asked.

“You see the Post today, Em?”

“Nuh uh, I’ve been kind of busy.” “Convenient.” “Stop it, Lucas,” Killian muttered, trying to keep the headache out of his voice. She mimed zipping her mouth shut, leaning up against the wall and kicking at his leg again.

It took hours to get to the middle of The New York Post – or it felt that way – each page adding another pang to the headache he was certain he’d never get rid of. Killian couldn’t remember the last time he’d read anything except the final ten pages of The Post and he wasn’t exactly certain where Page Six was.

“Page thirty-four,” Ruby said, sounding like she was handing out some sort of entertainment-journalism death sentence.

Killian’s glance flitted back up to her and her crossed arms and the slightly triumphant smile on her face. Emma was typing now, phone propped up on the vase the flowers had been sent in. “That’s not exactly quiet, Lucas,” Killian said, nearly ripping apart the newspaper in his quest to get to page thirty-four.

“I’m helping.” Killian hummed in the back of his throat and then he couldn’t really make much noise when he, finally, landed on page thirty-four. And Emma had stopped clicking.

Ruby pushed his phone back in front of his face and Emma’s expression wasn’t quite what he expected. It looked the same as when she’d explained the flowers – slightly nervous, slightly hopeful, slightly expectant with a smile that helped his headache ebb just a bit.

“Huh,” Emma said, nodding towards her laptop and the picture Killian assumed matched up with the one in his hands.

It was them. Of course it was them. At the charity game with his arm around her shoulders and his lips pressed up against her temple and they both looked so goddamn happy Killian couldn’t quite believe the caption claimed that guy was him.

Huh seemed about the best response.

“Oh, did you read the caption?” Emma continued and he didn’t expect the trace of laughter in her question.

“No,” Killian said. He’d been too busy staring at his own picture like it was the first time it had happened.

“Uh, well, Page Six seems to be under the impression I’m the reason you want to stay in New York.“ “They’re not wrong,” Ruby added, finally sitting down next to Killian. Emma groaned and Killian knocked his shoulder into Ruby’s. “What? It’s true, isn’t it?” Neither one of them answered.

“On the plus side,” Ruby continued, seemingly not impressed by the conversation. “You both look ridiculously good in this picture. This is like a PR director’s dream. Right, Em? Although maybe ignore the end of the caption.”

Killian’s stomach lurched and if he hadn’t wanted to go to pre-game before, he definitely didn’t now – words like marriage and popping the question and team player jumping out at him. Emma slumped back into her chair, running a hand over her face, but she hadn’t actually stopped smiling.

Huh. Again.

“I mean, it definitely could have been worse,” Emma admitted. “At least they mentioned the game. That might help sell some jerseys.” Killian had lost the ability to speak, stunned silent by the woman on the phone screen he was now, somehow, holding. And somewhere in between noticing the flowers on the corner of Emma’s desk and reading the end of a Page Six caption, he might have realized he desperately wanted the end of a Page Six caption.

Clingy. Needy. Selfish.

They should put that next to his pre-game introduction. He needed deadline day to be over. He needed this season to be over.

He needed to win a goddamn Stanley Cup.

“Exactly,” Ruby said, snapping her teeth on the word. “And, just think, now you guys don’t have to pretend at all anymore, which is disappointing for the rest of us because watching you two try and interact in a public space while also trying to pretend not to be absolutely disgustingly adorable was pretty entertaining.” “Was there a compliment in there at all?” Emma asked.

“Probably not.” Ruby clapped Killian on the knee, making him jerk back and he cringed when he hit his head against the wall. “Jumpy, huh? Come on, Cap, you missed pre, but you probably shouldn’t miss warmups either. Then Arthur will want to kill you too.” Ruby moved before he could answer, waving at Emma who smiled in return, seeming untroubled by a Page Six photo that had him frozen to the ground.

“Tell me a fact,” Emma said as soon as Ruby’s heels stopped echoing in the abandoned hallway. He hadn’t gotten up yet.

“What?” “A fact. About Minnesota.” “Well, technically, it’d be about St. Paul.” “I’d be more impressed with two.” “I’ve only got one.” Emma’s smile got wider. “I’ll take one.” He took a deep breath and the headache wasn’t quite as bad anymore. “St. Paul has more shoreline along the Mississippi River than any other city in the United States and was formerly known as Pig’s Eye or Pig’s Eye Landing.” “You made that last one up!”

“I promise, Swan, I did not. This used to be a gangster hot bed too.” She laughed loudly, head thrown back and that one piece of hair fell across her entire face. Killian finally stood up. “Ok, come on, that can’t possibly be true. I lived in Minnesota. There have never been any gangsters in Minnesota.” “How do you think they moved alcohol around during prohibition? We’ve already discussed the river.” “You’re making that up,” Emma said again, shaking her head and her hair and Killian’s heart felt like it expanded four sizes. At least.

“There is a museum.” “No!” “I’ve been,” Killian groaned, memories of that second-season trip flitting through his memory. “Next road trip, we’ll go.” Emma’s eyes widened and his impossibly large heart stuttered. Maybe he’d been reading this all wrong. “Yeah?” she asked softly.

“Yeah.” “The eye in the Wild’s logo is supposed to look like a Star. It’s an homage to the North Stars.” “I didn’t know that.” “I figured.” Killian laughed and, well, maybe the flowers weren’t that bad. Maybe Mrs. Vankald knew exactly what she was doing. He really should call her.

“You really ok, though?” Emma asked. “You must have missed pre-game.” “Oh, I totally missed pre-game. Regina is probably plotting my murder as we speak.” “Ah, I don’t know. Weren’t you only supposed to talk about the standings? I don’t think anybody wanted to talk about that.” “Hence why we’re here.” “I figured,” she repeated. Her eyes darted up when there was a knock on her door, distracted for half a moment before her smile got even wider. “Yeah, yeah, come on in guys. We’ve got a ton of jerseys to go through.” “Sorry,” Merida said, just out of frame. “I didn’t think you’d be…”

“No, no, it’s fine.” “Swan?” Killian asked, tilting his head like that would make it easier to see into her office.

The response he got wasn’t quite who he expected. “Hey, Killian,” Henry shouted, nearly pushing Emma’s chair out of the way in excitement. “Shouldn’t you be on the ice?” “Have you been talking to Regina?” “What?” Emma sighed, sneaking back into the corner of the frame. “Go get on the ice, Jones. We’ve got jerseys to organize and e-mail templates to send out and stuff to do.” “Stuff?” “Lots of stuff.” “Tons,” Henry added and Killian got the distinct impression he was missing something. “A whole schedule. I even made a to-do-list for Emma’s to-do-list.” “Ok, kid,” Emma muttered, nodding towards Merida again. “You’ve efficiently proved how much stuff we have to do. Why don’t you help Mer put some jerseys and merch in boxes, ok?” He ran off as quickly as he had run in, a flash of brown hair and twelve-year-old determination and he’d been spending as much time at the Garden in the last few weeks as Killian had. And he worked there.

He was still missing something.

“I’ll call you after the game?” Killian asked and Emma nodded almost immediately.

“Yeah, that’s cool.” “You alright, Swan? You’ve gone all red.” “I have not.”

“I can see your face, love. Come on, what’s going on?” “Nothing.” “Swan.” “Nothing,” Emma repeated, gasping slightly when it sounded like a small mountain of merchandise had fallen over in the corner. “I’ve got to go and I’m not all that interested in hearing about Regina murdering you later, so you should probably get on the ice. I’ll talk to you later.” It didn’t feel quite right, her voice picking up the longer they were on the phone and her face was nearly scarlet. “Ok,” Killian said slowly.

“I love you.” He shouldn’t have been worried about anything. His heart felt five sizes too big now. “I love you too, Swan.” “Go score some goals.”

He scored two goals.

He’d probably brag about the second one for the rest of his life. He knew it was going in before he’d actually taken the shot, stick-handling into the zone and past a defender and the guy in front of him might have actually fallen over at some point.

Killian didn’t notice. He was too busy scoring goals. Twice.

They won and he smiled when he was named third star – certain Emma was probably grumbling over that in her office a few hundred miles away – and that just made him smile even more, walking back into the locker room and the media scrum without even an ounce of the nerves that sent him into the hallway before.

“Cap! Cap! Killian! Anything about the rumors?” Killian didn’t even sigh at the questions – he was on a roll. Mrs. Vankald had sent Emma flowers and Emma wanted to call and thank her.

“I’m not talking about that,” Killian said, certain they were asking about Page Six and those last few words in that one particular part of the caption. “Come on guys, you’ve got to at least let me get to the locker.” The scrum started to mumble, but they did actually move, giving up a few inches of space in front of his locker. He never made it.

“Nope,” Regina snapped, grabbing a fist-full of jersey that must have been almost disgusting. He’d just spent several hours on the ice. The scrum actually groaned. They stopped as soon as Regina turned on them. “Go talk to Scarlet,” she directed, nodding towards the defenseman and his very silent locker.

“His contract isn’t up yet,” a reporter argued. Regina narrowed her eyes. The reporter practically sprinted towards Scarlet’s locker.

“You’re not supposed to be back here, Gina,” Killian mumbled, already aware he was wasting his breath. And then he didn’t have much breath in him at all, stunned by the sudden appearance of Roland on his side. “Jeez, mate,” he laughed, somehow managing to balance on his skates as he grabbed Roland around the waist. “Warn a man first.” “Sorry, Hook,” Roland chirped and Killian shook his head. “Gina says we have to talk to you.” “That so?” Roland nodded enthusiastically, chin hitting up against Killian’s shoulder pad. “Yup. Dad’s out in the hallway waiting for us.” “Of course he is.” “Don’t do that,” Regina said, already halfway out the locker room door. “And don’t try and get information out of Rol either, he’s already been told not to say anything in here around these leeches.”

Killian pushed his heels into his skates, ready, and somewhat willing, to stage a standoff in the the doorway – but Roland knocked on his back, a silent command to keep walking and, well, he was a bit of a pushover.

Robin was leaning up against the far wall a few feet away from the door – somehow already out of skates and they were both probably going to get fined if they missed post. Regina would glare even more at that.

It wasn’t good for the image.

Ariel was twisting the ends of her hair around one of her fingers.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Regina muttered, tapping her foot for emphasis.

“Gina I am, literally, holding your kid while trying not to trip over my own skates. Give me two seconds.” “You don’t have two seconds.” “He’s got at least two minutes,” Robin muttered and there was background noise Killian didn’t expect.

“What is that?” he asked, nodding towards the phone in Robin’s hands.

“God, Locksley, at least hold the thing up,” Liam sighed, “you’re giving Elsa vertigo over here.” Killian gripped Roland a little tighter. “Whole platoon, huh?”

“Don’t be like that, KJ,” Elsa said, leaning to her side like that would make Robin lift the phone. “C’mon Robin pull me up, all I can see is KJ’s knees.” Robin did as instructed and Killian did his best not to meet Elsa’s eyes. It probably didn’t matter much – he was certain she knew every deadline worry he’d had since he’d woken up in a Minnesota hotel.

“And we don’t really have time,” Regina cut in, tugging on the front of her jacket.

“A picture of business-like efficiency, Gina,” Killian mumbled. Roland laughed. “Alright, well you’ve called in reinforcements, so something must have happened during the game.” “You scored too many goals,” Liam said.

“Cryptic.” “Good goals though. That second one especially was nuts. The twins have been practicing that move for the last twenty minutes.” Killian smiled and he wasn’t sure if Regina rolled her eyes because of that or because they refused to stick to the unspoken schedule of this conversation.

“Can we focus, please?” Regina snapped. Roland stopped moving at that. Smart kid. “Time?” “2:54,” Robin answered immediately.

“Are we all just staring at the clock?” Killian asked. “What’s going on?” Elsa sighed. He totally knew what was going on. The deadline went official in six minutes. “And that two-minute time limit was a complete lie,” he added, smirking at Gina.

It didn’t work.

“They offered again,” Regina said.

“Who?” Several different variations of his name were shouted at once and even Roland muttered a soft Hook against the back of his jersey. He’d never been reprimanded by a seven-year-old, that seemed like some sort of backwards accomplishment.

“Don’t do it, KJ,” Elsa said, finally eye level with him after Robin moved his phone. Liam rested his hand on her shoulder and Killian could dimly make out the sound of the twins in the background, still fine-tuning their stick-handling skills.

“It’s a lot of money,” Robin muttered. “You could probably buy several mountains. And then a ski resort for good measure. You could be king of the mountain.” “Several, apparently,” Killian said.

“At least.” “No,” Elsa half-shouted and there might have been tears in her eyes. “Mom sent her flowers!” “Oh my God,” Killian sighed. “Does everyone know that?” “You should call Mom. Oh! Oh, buy her a new pillow.” “Was that Anna’s idea?” “Maybe.” “Five minutes,” Robin cut in. “Tell him how much it is, Gina.” “I would,” she hissed. “If everyone else would let me do my job.” Liam laughed – and the only reason he didn’t melt under the power of Regina’s glare was because he wasn’t actually in Minnesota. “You called us, Regina. We don’t want him here. He’s already been challenged with death if he takes this trade.”

“That’s not true, KJ,” Elsa added, determined to make sure Killian was wanted and not facing the guillotine at some point in his immediate future. “We, just, you know, think you should stay in New York. For reasons.” “You’re not good at this lying thing, El,” he laughed before groaning at a well-placed foot in his side. “Rol, you can’t keep kicking me, mate.” Regina tugged on the back of Roland’s jersey, something that didn’t quite look like agent crossing over her features. It didn’t last long. “I called you to make sure that all the important people in Killian’s life are here when he makes some sort of life-changing decision.”

She took another deep breath and pushed her phone towards him, hardly even waiting for him to readjust the kid draped over his shoulder.

There were a lot of zeroes. More zeroes than he’d probably ever see in New York. He could absolutely buy several mountains.

“Fuck,” Killian muttered. The entire room clicked their tongue in unison – Roland didn’t even notice. At least not that part.

“Hey,” he said, kicking against Killian’s chest pad.

“What, mate?”

“If everyone important is here, where’s Emma?” No one clicked their tongue at that. Killian might have laughed. Or possibly guffawed. Maybe this was all a dream.

“Smart kid,” Elsa muttered from Colorado. “Don’t do it, KJ.” “It’s a lot of zeroes,” Robin countered. Elsa huffed.

“That’s true,” Killian admitted. His mouth felt dry and Roland felt like he weighed somewhere in the vicinity of eight-hundred pounds. “I might need extra PT after this, Red.” Ariel nodded. “Sure, Cap.” “Ok, but seriously, two minutes now,” Robin said as Regina’s phone started to ring in the middle of the hallway.

Nothing had ever been as loud as that phone in the middle of the hallway.

“How long, Gina?” Killian asked.

“Four years. All those zeroes.” He let out a low whistle and tried not to drop Roland on his head. Those numbers didn’t make sense together. “The headlines would probably say something like unprecedented,” Robin muttered.

Liam hummed in agreement and it sounded like Elsa smacked him.

“They’re pretty serious,” Regina added, as if those numbers didn’t prove just that. “They were under the impression so were you.” The room was spinning. He needed to find a wall. He needed to find some ice and skate out some of this pesky emotion. “That’s it?” Killian asked. “Nothing closer?”

“Closer to Emma?” “We don’t have time for this, Gina.”

She couldn’t argue that. Her phone started ringing again. “No,” Regina answered and he didn’t realize two letters could ever hold so much disappointment. “Nothing. The Stars dropped off when they realized you didn’t really care. The rest of them all ran away as soon as that story came out in LA.” Killian’s eyes darted towards Elsa out of instinct. She was resting her chin on Liam’s shoulder, standing up now with one hand on her stomach.

She absolutely knew.

Elsa shook her head slightly.

“No,” Killian said. No one had actually asked him a question.

“No,” Regina repeated. It wasn’t a question either.

“I’m not going. Tell them thanks, but no thanks. Make it nicer than that though, that was a lot of zeroes.” “I can do that.” She swiped her thumb over the front of her phone – like that proved that – and wandered to the far end of the hallway, muttering words under her breath that didn’t quite sound like the apology and refusal Killian had requested.

“She’s going to completely ruin my reputation,” Killian sighed, shifting Roland as he tried to back up towards the wall behind him.

“Whatever’s left of it,” Liam laughed and Elsa hit his shoulder again.

“Shut up, Liam,” Ariel snapped and there were tears on her cheeks. “This is good. Really good. And probably the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.” “Sap.”  She sniffled in response. “It’s alright, Red,” Killian said. “You can go back to being your slightly frustrated with me self tomorrow afternoon.” “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

Ariel nearly knocked him over when she launched herself at his chest and Killian was happy he’d actually managed to find the wall, arm wrapped around her waist to make sure he didn’t collapse in a heap with a seven-year-old on top of him.

“We’re never going to talk about this moment ever again, alright?” Ariel asked, voice muffled with her face pressed up against the ‘C’ on his chest.

Killian laughed in response, kissing the top of her head as Roland squirmed over both of them. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan,” he repeated.

Elsa was crying now too – sniffles finding their way into the hallway from Colorado – and Liam had worked her back into a chair, something aboutexerting yourself on the tip of his tongue. Robin just looked passably amused – and a bit proud.

“Did he decide?” Will shouted, leaning into the hallway from the still-open locker room door. “Because I can’t hold off this crowd much longer.” Killian lifted one eyebrow, pulling back slightly to stare at Ariel. “So we might have come up with a plan,” she admitted.

“A plan?”

“Yeah, like, right before the game. While you were on the phone with Emma.” He couldn’t even bring himself to be mad. He waited for it – waited for the telltale signs of frustration and annoyance and interference over this stupid team that wanted to push itself into the middle of Killian’s entire life.

It never got there.

Probably because it had never been there to begin with. They all just cared.

He wished Emma was there.

“Is Emma coming later?” Roland asked, pushing up on Killian’s shoulder. He shimmied down back to the floor, helped along by Ariel who had finally stopped crying, and looked up at Killian with something that felt a bit similar to the want he’d been dealing with all day.

“Nah, mate,” Killian sighed. “She’s home.”

Robin’s eyebrows moved at that, ears almost noticeably pricking up and he glanced at the phone in his hand. Elsa was never going to stop crying.

“You doing ok there, El?” Killian asked and he wasn’t fooling anyone in that hallway. They all knew he wanted Emma Swan in Minnesota and there after games and in some sort of last few words of a Page Six photo caption kind of way.

“Fine, fine,” she promised, brushing her knuckles underneath her eyes. “Go do post before you all get fined.” “See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Will yelled.

“How could you even hear that?” Killian asked. Will shrugged. “It’s going to be fine, El,” he added, looking back down on the screen. Liam was doing that proud thing with his face again.

“Of course it is,” she said. She sounded a bit surprised that he’d ever thought any differently.

“You sure, Cap?” Robin asked, tugging Roland back to his side.

Killian sighed. He needed to shower before he went to post. “Too late now, isn’t it?” “Yeah. Good.” “Go answer the questions, little brother,” Liam muttered. “You can’t afford the fine anymore.” Killian scoffed – but Liam might be right – and he at least needed to get out of these skates. He was starting to lose feeling in his toes. There was waving and promises of how fine it was going to be and Killian groaned when he remembered he’d left his phone in his locker.

He needed to tell Emma.

“Post first,” Robin said, somehow able to read his mind. “Then you can get all romantic and talk about the flowers Mrs. V sent again.”

Killian opened his mouth, but he didn’t even get the question out and Robin was near hysterics when they walked back into the locker room, pulled apart by a horde of press already screaming questions in his face and pushing cameras half an inch away from his nose.

It took way longer than it should have.

Killian sat in front of that visitor’s locker for nearly twenty minutes, answering every question and promising he was as dedicated to New York as he was the night he got drafted, certain this was the year and, no, he didn’t think it would be a problem to play out of the Wild Card spot.

Ruby eventually took pity on him and pushed the horde away and he actually got a chance to shower, certain the jersey would be better burnt than thrown in the pile in the corner of the locker room, and two-thirds of the Mills-Locksley family was waiting for him outside the arena.

“Come on,” Robin said, nodding towards the car parked behind him. “We’re going out.” “Out?” Killian repeated skeptically. “Your kid looks like he’s going to fall asleep standing up.” “Nah, he’s fine. You’re fine, right, Rol?” Roland nodded enthusiastically, but his eyes weren’t really open and it was nearly six o’clock and they’d all been awake for far too long. Killian hadn’t really slept the night before.

“Where exactly do you want to go?” he asked.

The driver was out of the car now. God, he was opening the doors. Killian glanced to both sides, looking for some kind of escape route or the car that should have been his and should have brought him back to his hotel room so he could FaceTime his girlfriend without an entire hockey team giving input.

“You have absolutely negative amounts of choice in this,” Robin said, nudging Roland into the middle of the back seat. “There’s no point in arguing.” “That sounds kind of menacing.” “It’s not.” “Where’s Gina?” “Getting ready.” “Ready? Are we staging a coup?” Robin sighed dramatically, the put-upon sound making Killian laugh. Maybe this could almost be fun. “No one is staging anything unless it’s dinner and quite a bit of alcohol.” “Does Arthur know?” “Arthur will be there, toasting his captain’s glorious return.” “See, now I know you’re lying. Arthur would never toast my anything. He’d just blow his whistle in my face.” “Nope,” Robin said, popping the word on his lips. “C’mon, Cap. No choice. This is happening and I can almost guarantee you’re going to enjoy this.” “Almost.” “Nothing’s a complete guarantee.”

Killian groaned, rolling his head back, but he didn’t argue anymore and he didn’t even slam the car door shut behind him.

This great, big outing that Killian was almost certain to enjoy was, apparently, a sports bar on the other side of St. Paul. There were plastic flags hanging on the awning outside. This sports bar, apparently, prided itself on its Minnesota Vikings fandom.

“Seriously?” Killian asked.

Robin was already halfway to the door. “Get out of the car, Cap.” Killian did as instructed, one hand on Roland’s shoulder as he walked across the snow-covered sidewalk and it was colder here than it had been in New York. That snow probably wouldn’t melt until June.

“I’m staying an hour, tops,” Killian said and Robin nodded, humming in the back of his throat. He was being coddled. He didn’t appreciate being coddled.

He’d turned down several zeroes and a monarchy made up entirely of mountains. He deserved one drink and a full night of sleep and the chance to get out of St. Paul as soon as humanly possible.  

The inside of the bar wasn’t much better, a mix of Budweiser signs and the faint smell of spilled alcohol that never quite got cleaned up off the floor and even more plastic flags. Those ones touted the Twins.

“Not exactly the high point of restaurants is it?” Killian asked, glancing at Robin out of the corner of his eye. Only he didn’t just see Robin.

She wasn’t wearing team merch or his numbers and her hair was still in the ponytail it had been that morning, that one piece falling across her forehead when she spun on the spot. And Killian knew his mouth dropped open, knew half of the entire New York Rangers roster and front office was staring straight at him, jam-packed into that crummy little sports bar.

He didn’t care.

He might have breathed out her name and Ariel might have started sniffling again, pushing against his back to try and get him to move. He didn’t have to.

Emma moved first.

She hit up against his chest, hands on either side of his face and lips on his and they could have been in the middle of Times Square and Killian wouldn’t have noticed anything except her. He wouldn't have cared about anything but her.

He kissed her back, arms around her waist out of instinct and he’d half lifted her up before he remembered how heavy Roland had been in that hallway. Emma’s heels popped out of her flats and her fingers carded through his hair and across the back of his neck and someone actually whistled when they didn’t break apart in an entirely appropriate amount of time.

It was probably Scarlet.

“Hey,” Emma whispered, resting her forehead on his.

“Hey.” Will groaned. “God, what a let down. And she planned this whole thing, Cap.” “Wait, what?” Killian asked. His hands wouldn’t stop moving. They kept tracing up and down her side and across her back and he, finally, pushed that piece of hair back behind her ears.

Emma rolled her eyes, shooting a glare at Will for good measure. “That’s not really true. Regina and Ariel found the restaurant. They just told me where to go once I told them I was coming.” “But, no, how?” She smiled when he started stuttering over the words, lips brushing over his and now he really wanted to leave this sports bar. “They have these newfangled things called planes. I got on one this afternoon and it brought me to Minnesota. In barely enough time, but that’s a whole other story.” “No, I understand how aviation works, Swan. But I talked to you today. You were in your office. Putting jerseys in boxes.” “That’s true. I did that.” “So how are you here?” “I feel like we’re going in circles.” Emma blinked once, lips pressed together thoughtfully and her eyes fell down to her shoes. “Is it ok that I’m here?” she whispered. “I didn’t...I didn’t really ask. I just kind of figured…”

He kissed her quiet. And it was completely inappropriate and made for Page Six and those words he thought about every time his stick hit the puck that afternoon.

“Of course it’s fine, Swan,” Killian said. “Better.”

“It’s just deadline day,” she mumbled as if that explained why she’d gotten on a plan that morning. It kind of did.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” They weren’t the focus of the entire restaurant anymore – Robin taking pity on them and shouting something about drinks and darts and celebrating another win – and it was loud and crowded and all Killian saw was green and yellow and that striped shirt she was wearing.

“Figured it might be better than just a face on a screen,” Emma said.

“Infinitely. You really got on a plane though? How come you didn’t tell me?” “It was supposed to be a surprise. I thought we were done for as soon as Mer and Henry got there. He’s known about it for days.” “You were planning this for days?” His heart was seven sizes too big now. He’d skipped over size six entirely.

Emma nodded, fingers tracing over a vein in his neck. “Reese’s had to get her credit card points to go through.”

He didn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity, couldn’t come up with a single word or thought or anything that wasn’t how ridiculously in love he was with Emma Swan. It’d probably fuel the entire playoff run.

“Mary Margaret did that?” Killian asked and Emma smiled in response. “I’ll have to thank her.” “She offered.” “That’s even nicer.” “She’s super psyched you’re my plus-one too. I think her exact words were over the moon. She’s been waiting for this moment since August.” “Shame we kept her waiting that long.” Emma laughed softly, burrowing her forehead against his shoulder and if he hugged her any tighter he’d probably crush something. “I know we said we’d do that whole gangster museum thing when we were both in St. Paul, but do you think we could save that one for the next road trip? I’d really be interested in seeing your hotel room.” “That so?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow and she rolled her eyes at the smirk. It had never worked to begin with.

“I promised we’d stay an hour. At most. Mostly to shut up Scarlet.” “Forget Scarlet, let’s just go now.” “Enthused, huh?” “Anxious. Needy. Somewhere close to desperately needing to kiss you.” “You did that already,” Emma pointed out, tapping one finger on the front of his league-mandated tie. “Twice.” “It’s a very strong need.”

She smiled and it landed in his heart and his very center and maybe his soul. Turning more zeroes than he’d seen in his life had, apparently, turned him into a complete sap.

“Forty-five minutes,” she said, pressing up to mumble the words against his lips. “And then the room.”

They stayed for thirty-eight minutes – and Killian wouldn’t say they were staring at their phones, watching the minutes go by, but he wouldn’t have passed a lie-detector test if asked the same question. They were, by far, the longest thirty-eight minutes of his life.

Or maybe that was the car ride back to the hotel. Or the elevator or the walk down the hallway and he hoped Robin wasn’t a complete fool and stayed with Regina and Roland later because he might be acting like a teenager, but Killian drew the line at hanging a sock on the door.

He stopped caring about the time once Emma’s hands started tugging on his tie and making their way down the line of buttons on his shirt and Killian had absolutely no idea where his phone was several hours later.

The sheets were a twisted up mess and Emma’s leg was, somehow, in between his, Killian’s arm thrown haphazardly around her waist with his face pressed against her hair. It was the most comfortable he’d been all day.

“I wanted to come because I didn’t want you to be by yourself,” Emma said, voice slicing through the silence of the room.

Killian smiled against her hair, leaving kisses he wasn’t entirely certain she could feel as his fingers traced across her stomach. “I haven’t felt alone in quite some time, love,” he said softly.

“Good.” She took a deep breath and he knew she’d scrunched her nose against the pillow she was laying on. “Me either.” “Good.”

It wasn’t enough. Not by a longshot. But there weren't enough words and he couldn’t think of any other words and winning a Stanley Cup would have to do.

“You told them no, didn’t you?” “I thought you’d fallen asleep.” “With a whole night ahead and this grand romantic gesture?” Emma asked. “Hardly.” She turned around, twisting underneath his hand and they should probably just move the sheets at this point. They were a hazard. “You did, didn’t you?” “Did what, Swan?” “Told the Avs no.”

He breathed in far more oxygen than he needed, closing his eyes lightly and Emma’s hand rested on his chest, thumb tracing across the line of his collarbone. And all he saw was the Page Six caption and what he wanted and the hopeful expression that had been on her face every time she looked at him.

“Yeah,” Killian said. No more secrets. “I did.” Emma bit her lip, thumb tapping on his skin. “You gave up…” “Nothing,” he interrupted. “I didn’t give up anything at all. Everything I want is here. No matter what.” Emma’s shoulders sagged and the breath seemed to rush out of her. “Ok,” she whispered. “And I’m glad I’m here too. I didn’t say that before.”

“I love you,” Killian said evenly. Ah, there were the words.

“I love you too.”

He nodded and it was as if everything just settled, falling into place and finding its spot and, of course, it happened in goddamn Minnesota.

“So what happens now?” Emma asked, voice still impossibly quiet.

Killian shifted, pressing against her and he kissed her once before he answered, trying to pour every single verb he could think of into one single movement. “Now, Swan, we go win a Cup.”

[stxleslyds]

you know how dc keeps forcing this sudden "we're a family" narrative out of nowhere? I'd love batfam content but years of hurt among them make the recent content seem unearned.

bc you know more about dick and jason than the others, how do you think they would realistically become family to each other, or would it even be in character for them to be the "bros" they're written as now?

Oh anon, this question is amazing, I love it! I saw it when I woke up and since then my brain has been brewing this answer, I was thinking about it as I brushed my teeth and as I was making breakfast, and now I am ready to give you the answer, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed thinking/writing about it!

DC keeps forcing the wrong relationships, and they keep forcing the wrong centre of this supposed family, they make it out to be the Bat-Family when in reality the Bat (Bruce) should have never been invited to this party.

This is why I give you the… Dick-Family!

Oh yeah baby, I am going there. Dick is the centre of this “family”, he is the guy who is actually connected with everyone, he has been around for so long and he has been present when almost all of the remaining characters were introduced! Bruce might have come first but that guy has nothing on Dick Grayson.

Dick has cared and loved for everyone in this family in a true and beautiful way, no matter how much fanon and DC try to tell us otherwise. This man was an amazing son to Bruce and Alfred (my love for Alfred and Dick is brought to you by @hood-ex), a fantastic brother to Jason, Tim and Cass as well as a phenomenal father/older brother to Damian.

Dick Grayson is the centre of this whole thing, and thanks to DC now being an Omniverse I will be able to explain my line of thoughts. But first let me clear some ideas up.

The way I see it Jason would only get along good enough with Dick. I am not here for Jason and Tim having brunch together (honestly, Lobdell, what were you thinking), Jason never cared for Tim, and then writers that didn’t know how the Red Hood worked made him try to kill Tim so, to me, that relationship is non-existent, Jason doesn’t really perceive Tim (yet).

Jason and Damian, listen, I know that there is this fanon theory that Jason knew and cared for Damian while he was in the League, but that is just fanon talk and it doesn’t really fit in canon either. Jason wasn’t really capable of doing much other than fight, and after he was put in the Lazarus Pit he either had to leave because Ra’s wanted to kill him or Talia took him to the All-Castle. So, Jason’s only real interactions with Damian would be when Jason was written as a crazy, blood thirsty dude that actually tried to harm a child. So, him and Damian wouldn’t really have a good relationship (yet).

Jason and Cass… that’s just a no. Jason and Barbara, I mean Barbara was older than Dick when she first met Jason, so they wouldn’t have much of a relationship.

Now, lets move on to how I will make the Dick-Family work.

Dick (bless him) actually talks and listens to people, unlike Bruce, so the change would start there. Let’s set the timeline, I will stand right after the events of Under the Red Hood. Bruce just chose saving Joker over letting Jason kill the Joker and the building they were in exploded.

Batman keeps on being himself (trash) and Jason, having survived the explosion, moves on to keep on building his empire. He really wants to control the drug trade in Gotham, so he works on that, he slowly but surely takes his place as a drug lord again and is a constant pain in Black Mask’s ass.

While Jason is doing that, Dick is trying to put together his life after Bludhaven was attacked with Chemo. Let’s say that Bludhaven isn’t completely erased from the map but he does have to leave so the city can be re-built. He goes to Gotham, where the Red Hood works.

Let’s say that Alfred told Dick who was under the Red Hood, so Dick being a good brother goes looking for Jason. Their first interaction out of the mask wouldn’t be nice, Jason barely remembers his life before the pit and he really is convinced that Dick is the absolute worst.

But then Jason being a nosy man would make an appearance, for some reason, let’s say that he hacks into the Batcave and when he does that he finds some footage… The footage in question would be the one which shows Bruce punching Dick and sort of blaming him for Jason’s death. (Oh yeah, I am going there). The footage will make a memory come to mind, Dick taking Jason on a skying trip.

So, the next time that Dick and Jason see each other is because Jason went looking for Dick and here is where these two actually talk. The way I see it, Dick is more flexible with the no killing rule, he has worked many times with people that are villains or that just have different ways of doing things. So, I think that he would understand where Jason’s coming from with his ideas. As they begin to understand one another Jason begins to recover more and more memories from before the Pit.

They get together once a week and they chat about life as well as vigilante stuff. They become friends.

At the same time Dick is also very good friends with Tim and also acts like the amazing big brother he is with him. They chat, they sometimes work together and one day they come across a very complicated situation involving a new drug being introduced in Gotham.

Dick would call Jason and now both of them and Tim are reunited in a safe house working together so this new drug doesn’t fall in the wrong hands. Jason and Tim wouldn’t really like each other. Both of them are there for Dick and because they have to get the job done.

That’s how I see Dick forming the Dick-Family unconsciously. Hell, I will introduce Barbara now. Do you guys remember that in UtRH Barbara was mad with Bruce and didn’t want to work with him but she was still in contact with Dick? Well, I am using that so it can fit my narrative.

Dick, Jason and Tim need more intel so Dick calls Oracle (real Oracle) and because Barbara trusts Dick she works with them.

Here is where it gets interesting, through Barbara, Dick meets Cass, through Tim he meets Stephanie. You see that Dick’s connections are leading him to form a group of people. Cass and Stephanie are trained by Babs and Dick and they become the new Batgirls.

As all of that keeps developing Jason and Dick become “partners in crime” they help each other, they start building a brotherly relationship again. Although Jason refuses to say that out loud.

Then comes in Damian, a difficult child if there has ever been one but he has Bruce so Dick doesn’t have to jump in that fast… right?

Oh brother! Bruce is dead (omg what would we do? Battle for the cowl maybe? No!). with Bruce gone there is only one person who can take his place and everyone knows it has to be Dick.

Dick would feel a lot of things as he is taking Bruce’s place as Batman but he has a group of people ready to back him up (Alfred, Jason, Tim, Babs, Cass, Steph), and he also has to take care of Damian, he is a child and with his father gone then maybe his mother would want to take him back to the League of Assassins, Dick obviously doesn’t want that so he talks to Tim and tells him that he sees him as his equal and that he has a plan to make Damian stay and it involves making Damian his new Robin.

Tim would obviously be sad and a little hurt, but he understands Dick’s decision because they talked about it and Dick actually took the time to explain why he was doing what he was doing (really DC half of the problems you guys come up could be fixed in seconds if people would only take some time to just TALK!).

Dick and Damian work as Batman and Robin and Dick starts assuming the position of his father. They would live with Alfred in the penthouse and maybe Tim will join them from time to time (when he wasn’t busy with Young Justice/Teen Titans stuff). Slowly Dick and Damian will become the Dynamic Duo that we love today.

So, Dick would have his own Robin, Oracle (who is also managing her own team with Black Canary and (why not) the Batgirls), Red Robin and Red Hood working with him if he needs them. They are always a call away. Jason is the most difficult to reach and he will only involve himself in that kind of drama if its about controlling the drug trade or scaring the living shit out of some very shady people.

So, Red Hood wouldn’t be working with the new (and improved) Batman but Jason would hang out with Dick sometimes.

From there they build up. Dick renovates Arkham Asylum and makes it work they way that it is supposed to work. He might also recruit Catwoman when he needs someone really sneaky, they have known each other for so long, I bet Selina loves Dick, she would certainly help him out.

But as all things do, this happy and well-connected Dick-Family is disrupted when Bruce comes back, he inserts himself slowly back into his role as Batman and as he does that Dick starts to move away from it.

But Dick’s connections are strong and well cared for, so, even when he goes back to Bludhaven and starts fresh (again) as Nightwing those connections remain. Oracle still gives him intel, Robin and Red Robin come over to Bludhaven to patrol, maybe they even have their own rooms at Dick’s place.

With Bludhaven functioning again, all of the terrible people that were working there also come back, maybe some of them never left and they have been corrupting the city from its very core. So, when Jason tells Dick that he would like to expand his operations to Bludhaven, Dick says yes, as long as Jason keeps him updated on his work and also lets him know what is going on.

I think it works! What do you guys think so far?

From then on with the whole Dick-Family being connected and strong I think they can actually act and solve their problems as a family. All those arcs that didn’t work very well because Bruce was in the middle of it being a jerk, I think they will work if Dick is at the centre of it. Let’s say that Bruce hid the fact that Joker knows their identities and all that, with such a strong family the second that the Joker tries to manipulate Jason into believing that he created him, Dick will come out of the shadows and shut that bullshit down. If Joker tries to do something to the Circus, then the Birds of Prey and the Robins will be there in seconds helping Dick.

The Court of Owls, those little shits wouldn’t stand a chance against this team, this force of nature! Jason would be the one working from afar because you know my boy wouldn’t be subjected to the “no-killing” rule but if he does it, he has to do it away from the children (Damian) and away from Cass, if he doesn’t want to know real trouble. (He probably arranged those things with Dick a long time ago and he is happy with it).

Now, please forgive me but for angst reasons I will actually let the events of, Batman Incorporated #8, Forever Evil, Nightwing #30 and Spyral run its course.

Let me explain, after Damian’s death Dick holds the Dick-Family together, as well as Bruce because he is amazing like that, but then after Dick supposedly dies, things change just a little bit. Jason would retreat back to his own corner because the only thing attaching him to the Dick-Family was Dick but he would also keep his eyes open and he might also have a direct line with Oracle if things go south.

Aside from Jason, I do see the others working on keeping their connections intact. When Damian eventually returns the land of the living, I can see all of them coming together even more because that’s what Dick would have wanted.

And then Dick will come back from Spyral and here is where the Dick-Family will show the “Bat-Family” why its superior to it in every aspect possible.

The Dick-Family will notice that something must have happened, Dick would never play dead and leave them like that, but Dick loves Bruce and he doesn’t want to tell them the truth, Bruce has no memories now and his family doesn’t deserve that kind of drama BUT Jason and Tim are suspicious, they know Dick at this point and they trust him so they firmly believe that he is hiding something to protect someone. And here is where life repeats itself. Let’s review the Batcave’s footage, yes, I did it again, I just love the fact that Bruce has footage of himself being the absolute worst to his kids, how does DC not use it! Anyway, Tim and Jason find the footage from the events of Nightwing #30 and suddenly the Dick-Family have their “Dick defence squad” jackets on and they are ready to party.

After all that Bruce eventually gets his memories back and he is held accountable for his actions. Also, around this time the events of Robin War would have already happened so Duke is also introduced. Dick lets him join and all that, and then Duke and Cass become besties and they work together.

And yeah, as Rebirth comes closer the Dick-Family would be more united than ever.

The end.

That is how I would have done it. But this way is slow, and DC wouldn’t be able to monetize it as much as they would want.

Jason wouldn’t be giving hugs and calling everyone their brother or sister, he will only get along with Dick and he would be professional with everyone else.

Tim and Damian would get along but they wouldn’t go for ice cream together on a sunny day. Steph and Damian would and so would Cass and Tim or Cass and Duke.

Oracle would work with Dick and the others as a side thing because her main thing would be the Birds of Prey, this time with Helena too.

Alfred would spend his time with Bruce but he would also be very aware of Dick and his influence on everyone around them. Bruce eventually would be integrated to the Dick-Family because Dick is a sweetheart but Dick would also make Bruce follow his rules, Dick is a little bean but he is also the most badass person in the room (whichever room) so you better listen to what he has to say.

The Dick-Family would be something that grows silently and doesn’t need a “Joker War” in order for them to be there for each other, they would try their best each step of the way and they will talk things out when mistakes are made.

This is the way that I see this family dynamic working.

I would even go as far as to say that Talia can be part of the Dick-Family because she is connected to three people, Dick, Damian and Jason.

Dick is the person with most connections in the DC Universe, the Titans, the Justice League, Deathstroke, they all have connections to this treasure of a man. If he needs help in Gotham or Bludhaven then he can call people from the “first circle”, if things are beyond a “street level” threat them he can call the Titans and if shit really hits the fan, Clark and the others are a call away.

Anyway, this was unnecessarily long, I am sorry about it but I am also not because I really don’t know how to answer your question without going on a long rant.

In conclusion the Bat-Family doesn’t work and sadly it wouldn’t work no matter how much they force it. These people don’t have connections, Bruce is not able to make connections between people. And DC has erased entire relationships that Dick used to have. I mean, they got rid of Dick and Tim being close brothers just so they could give us a shitty brunch between Tim and Jason? Only yesterday we saw a true and beautiful interaction between Dick and Damian.

DC is handling the “Bat-Family” in all the worst possible ways. It just doesn’t work.

They should have used Dick all those years ago and they shouldn’t have destroyed Jason’s characterization with Lobdell’s ideas.

So, sadly, my dear anon, I don’t see the Bat-Family as a in character thing for any of these people as they are written currently, but I hope that you enjoyed my version of it. May the Dick-Family bring everyone who reads about it a little joy!

[chonkychornes]

Stay Part Three

You’ve been a secret for so long, it’s hard to remember who you are. 

Dark Steve

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part One  Part Two

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@useless-creature-213

@thoughstofaredhead​

Entire days pass and you can pretend like nothing ever happened. It’s easier now that Steve seems to get that you don’t want or need him sniffing around, so now he’s basically ignoring you. Which is fine with you, it just makes it easier. 

Bucky makes it easier too; he’s been an almost constant companion while you’re feeling a little shut off from everyone and everything. You asked to be taken off the mission roster for a while and Bucky followed suit stating that you needed someone to keep an eye on you. Maybe you do; maybe you’re not fine. 

Denial is an easy way to forget your own wrongdoings, even for a short period of time. But when the night creeps in and you’re alone in your bed, you can’t forget and you can’t deny what transpired there. You can’t deny the part you played or the guilt you feel. You can’t deny the betrayal you feel or the emotional baggage that you carry. 

Deep down you know you have to come clean, but if you keep denying it, keep pretending that nothing ever happened, what is there to come clean about? Bucky says that eventually, the truth will come out. He’s been reading a lot of Shakespeare lately, so you let that one go; even though you know he’s right. 

Tonight, like most nights, you wake up after a few hours and can’t go back to sleep. Picking up your phone you scroll to the message thread between you and the Winter Soldier. 

You up?  You immediately cringe after hitting send. 

Is this a booty call? I’m kidding, of course I’m up.

You hit call not even glancing at the time and when he picks up, you’re grateful to hear a friendly voice, “What can I do for you tonight, doll?”

“Am I really that annoying? This isn’t an every night thing, is it?” You know it isn’t; just like you know he’d tell you if you were bugging him.

“ ‘Course not. What’s up? Can’t sleep?”

“More like I can’t go back to sleep. Wanna go raid the kitchen with me?”

Ten minutes later the two of you are snacking on leftover Chinese food and fried chicken. Perched on the island, you look to Bucky as he leans against the counter opposite and you smile at him.

“What’s that for?” he asks with a mouthful of cold dumpling.

“What’s what for? I can’t smile at my friend?” You throw a chicken bone at him and it tangles in his hair.

“Yuck,” he pulls it out and tosses it in the trash. “No, you gave me the real smile. I haven’t seen that in like a year.”

Ducking your head, your smile disappears. It’s been a whole year of lying and hiding. A whole year of being guilty and sneaky.

“Hey, don’t do that,” he says gently. “You’re going to make it right, right?”

“I want to, but I’m scared, Buck. I just want to pretend like it never happened.”

He sighs and closes the distance between you and rests his hands on your knees, “Can you live with yourself if you do that? Because the woman I knew would never be able to survive with that kind of guilt.”

The tears that you had successfully held at bay flow freely and you lay your forehead on his shoulder. He reaches up and rubs your back as you hiccup and drain yourself of every last tear when a throat clearing interrupts you.

“I didn’t realize anyone was up,” Steve says as he looks curiously between you and Bucky. You can’t meet his eyes, but you know he’s giving you that judging look of his and he’s formulating every question he can think of.

“Feeling better, doll? I told you not to inhale that fried rice,” Bucky looks to Steve. “I think she choked on a pea or something.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you clear your throat for effect and hop off the counter and begin clearing up.

Bucky stops your hands, “Go back to sleep. I’ll take care of this.” You nod and head out of the kitchen, feeling two pairs of eyes on your back. When you get to the hall you stop and take a deep breath.

“Choked on fried rice, huh? That’s not what it looked like,” you can hear Steve with his anger bubbling beneath the surface voice. “What are you two doing together?”

“What’s it matter to you? You’re not either of our keepers. She needs a friend right now.”

“That’s not all she needs,” Steve scoffs. “She’s nothing to you or anyone else.”

“She’s a member of this team; she’s important here. How dare you-” Bucky doesn’t finish when you hear skin on skin. “Did you just hit me over some girl you just called nothing? I know the truth, Steve, and not because she told me. Because you’re a lousy excuse for a man. Why are you even here, go home to Natasha.”

You hear footsteps and move away from the doorway and into the shadows as the figure emerges. When you see the gleaming arm, you take your chance.

“Are you okay?” you sidle up to Bucky and look at his face for bruising.

“I’m fine. Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I always knew, deep down, what I meant to him,” you grab his hand as the two of you move down the hall together. “Thank you for standing up for me. Thanks for staying with me. I don’t deserve it.”

When the two of you reach your quarters and you unlock your door, he squeezes your hand before you slip inside.

“You do deserve it.”

[junhuiste]

break the code (ex-wip)

pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader

wc: 1900

tags/warning: basketball!soonyoung, college au, slightly suggestive language, cursing

a/n: this was something i started way back in 2017 when i was 15 lol and i tried going back to it and finishing but i just can’t seem to continue it!! but i don’t want it to just sit in my drafts so i’m just going to post the unfinished wip! i might do this with a lot of wips i’ve had collecting dust over the years (and they’re like 99% svt lol); if i ever do find some stroke of inspo to finish it i might but for now enjoy the 1900 words i wrote when i was a sophomore

“But babe, you’ll sit on my side, right?” Soonyoung continued to pester you with countless little questions to which he knew the exact answers to.

You pursed your lips at your boyfriend; mild sorrow and guilt clouded your eyes. In return he pout your favorite pair of plush pillows to kiss, with dull bleakness and dismals fogging his irises. It was hard, really, to resist the pull of a magnet, who was trying every trick in the book to coerce you to sit on his school’s side of the bleachers for the upcoming basketball game on Friday.

Had it been that both of you were just your run-of-the-mill university couple, tachycardia would’ve caused you to blurt out “yes” instantaneously just by being gazed upon by Soonyoung, but alas, the big guy upstairs made it to be so that you technically couldn’t through the rulebook of the sibling code.

A flushed palm extended to your denim-covered thighs, with the utmost desire lacing his fingers.

“Pretty please? With a cherry on top?” His digits creeped towards your inner thigh, getting closer to the actual cherry he wanted on top.

“Soonyoung, no matter how well you do me, I’m still obligated to sit on my side of the bleachers.”

None of Soonyoung’s coercions could persuade you to decide about where to sit. You really would’ve preferred to sit on his side, but with your current situation, none of that was possible. It was a precarious oscillation between blood and water, and neither did you want to drown in with regret for embracing one over another.

“Fine. If you can’t cheer me on–which is a pitiful shame–let me take you out to eat after the game. And we can make out in my car or something so he won’t have to know.” Soonyoung’s gaze no longer held flashes of fervor, but rather a decadent gleam of sheer admiration.

“It’s a done deal, but you better promise me to dunk on him, or be prepared to get dunked on by him. As of right now, however, you owe me some kisses for making me wobble continuously back and forth between your side and his before I go,” you taunted, “come here you little rascal.”

Soonyoung gleamed at you piercingly, yielding you to lean forward against him as a shock of joy sparked up your back. His hand feathered along the back of your thigh, brushing it so longingly, with a tinge of impertinence here and there. You could feel the urgency radiating from him as he struggled to press you even closer to him, as there were no more gaps to be filled. He grasped your chin gingerly, before connecting his lips with yours, wanting to revel in dire coalescence he’d been awaiting upon your arrival.

Soonyoung is the warm bath you dip yourself into after constant exhaustion, the meager yet compelling and needed breeze as the sun beats down you, the red mark that’s actually relieving and boasts “A+” on a hard worked assignment, the last basket shot as the clock dashes away with the snickering seconds, and he is what has you torn on where your loyalty stands, but you can’t thank him enough for that strife.

You pulled away first because getting you two to separate would be a long ass haul, and maybe it was also getting late, just maybe. Your eyes glimpsed at the badgering hands that indicated 11:35 PM, and nothing but a sullen sigh managed to escape your lips.

It wasn’t fair, how time sashayed away, but there were no seconds left to spare to sulk about it, so you caressed the tranquility Soonyoung’s face possessed and left a lingering peck upon it. Knowing him, you’d expected him to grip your waist and pull you down with him into the waters of his joyous yet yearning ways but the coal haired boy enveloped you in an enticing embrace and with his lips hovering slightly above your ear, whispered, “Tell him to get ready.”

“I swear to God, I hate basketball,” your brother exhaled out in utter annoyance, to which you furrowed your brows at.

You always shifted in your seat restlessly, your heart palpitating at an ungodly speed of McQueen, eyes sought frantically to avoid meeting your brother’s, upon the dreaded word of “basketball” ringing in your ears. It wasn’t that you abhorred it, no, not at all; you absolutely appreciated the art of dunking and the pleasing note of swish through the hoop, but just not the people you knew personally who partook in it.

There’s always a Montague and Capulet narrative happening somewhere in the universe, always, and it just so happened that you were struck with the curse by some godforsaken entity of destiny of landing a role in your life as the fresh faced, ever so naive, youngest member of the Capulets–Juliet. And you dreaded the direction your supposed fairytale was headed the first time your boyfriend asked you to watch his basketball game, which oddly enough, was the same one your brother requested you to “bring all your hot friends” to.

As strange as it sounded, it wasn’t your brother’s undeniable libido for your friends that irked you and made you hesitate going to a basketball game, to which you’ve never thought twice about before, but it was the statement of, “God I am going to crush number 10’s ass.”

Number 10. Number fucking 10. Of course, it had to be the player that sweat through blue polyester and nylon, donning number 10 in white on the front and back. It could have been player number 13 or 17, for God’s sake it could have even been a negative number sported on the jersey, yet it all had to align in the cosmos to be player number 10.

You didn’t certainly deem ESP to be something legitimate, but on that day you swore to god your mind fucked you royally in the ass and placed you in Soonyoung’s dorm room the night before. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really, nothing but the sight of a teenage boy’s niche, because a lot of basketball players had to have chosen the number 10 for their jersey, right?

The environment malfunctioned instantaneously with the repetition of “I am going to crush number 10’s ass” circling about a short circuit in your mind. From that moment onward, the sight of the jersey was unquestionably more radiant that it could have ever been, with the blinding, white number ten atop Soonyoung’s chair cackling obstreperously at your oh shit moment. Tuning in to your brother slander your university’s rival, Soonyoung’s school, was always such a joy (not) to participate in.

Every “basketball” here and there snagged you by the ear and dragged you to hell and back with it, provoking the cracks of your palm to drench in sweat and legs to quiver more than you had felt around Soonyoung before dating him.

“Yeah I mean it’s not like you’ve worked your entire ass off the past 4 years or so to even set foot on the college court you've been dreaming of since you were 13!” Diverting your brother’s mental debate on his love of the sport, it was a necessity to pluck something else from thin air to talk about, and not your school’s rival when they had games against each other, which was seemingly a bloodbath in their perspective.

Trying to escape your brother’s trash talk of Soonyoung’s team was walking through an eternal, pitch black, underground tunnel, no goddamn escape.

“They only got us last time because of number 10’s foolery. Jesus Christ, the kid better slow down or he’s wasting stamina. Can’t believe he holds the title of captain, like me. I motherfucking swear to God if I have to listen to his loud ass winning chant–” yadah yadah, number 10 this, number 10 that.

You would have dozed off to your brother’s lovely lullaby of scorn towards your boyfriend had it not been for a text…from your boyfriend.

[spoonyoung]

hii hiiiii heyyyy hello bby Hhhii babe i miss youuuuu hi!

[y/n]

i can tell u’re tired :( don’t be

[spoonyoung]

he's going to crush me dang flabbit

y/n

so ur nervous ??? bby it’s just a game istg,,both of you treat it like warfare

[incoming call: spoonyoung]

Shit, what the hell? This bitch, right now? In this economy, at this time?

Inside your chest was a drumline pounding, giving it their all, threatening to burst out and announce to your brother that “Hey, your rival is dating your sister! They’re probably going to fuck later but you don’t know about any of it!”

You would plummet into poignancy if you didn’t pick up his call, because there was no chance you could see him everyday, so honestly fuck that you guys attended different schools, and resorting to calling each other did bring both of you to ease, but not at this goddamn, forsaken time, with one you love phoning you with 17,000 vibrations per second, and the other idiot you were practically forced to love, perched next to you, indignantly gripping the wheel with such force you couldn’t decide which one generated more turbulence within you.

Tensely clutching what was now a scorching piece of metal, you held it up conscientiously to your ear, and forced yourself to breathe out calmly and collectively. Every single mention, tidbit and strand, bob and fragment of Soonyoung that was mentioned around you when you were with your brother grabbed your trachea in its firm hold and forced the wind out of you.

“Hey, Hoshi,” you managed to choke out in a level headed manner.

Hoshi. That was what you and Soonyoung agreed to nickname him if you ever picked up a call from him around your brother or his teammates, but god forbid you were actually allowed to have a life of any sort!

“Babe,” Soonyoung mewled out from the other line, “I actually can’t do this. Don’t tell him, but your brother is really good...of course he is.”

Frowning because of Soonyoung’s lack of usual mirth and brimming confidence, you sighed, “If you let it get to you, then your thoughts affect your actions, and you don’t want that to happen right? You’ll be fine...and I’m not just saying this to say something, but you’re really good too, and you can’t let one person bring your entire mood down...even if...you know…”

“Will you at least come with me to my dorm after the game?”

“Oh you know I’ll be doing more than that,” giggling into your phone, trying to sound as enticing as possible, completely engrossed in this very conversation, as it was all the time talking with Soonyoung.

Both of you had a habit of drastically turning your talks from upside downs to those of obvious elation. They were conversations sometimes needed to be kept in the comforting privacy, selfishly not wanting to let anyone else in on the baby i missed you’s and the do you need anything from the boba shop’s and literally you don’t have the right to look this good’s.

Startled by the grunting and hacking oh so wonderfully expired by the total jackass to your left, you contended to the third degree, with the patience that was never really there starting to thin out, “Do you need something?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Soonyoung to call coincidentally at the times you were with—more like right next to—his rival, probably because his

[arhvste]

can you maybe do some hcs w kuroo tsukishima and oikawa when their s/o is being bullied by people from school?

love me some savage haikyuu boys 😈

-

KUROO, TSUKISHIMA AND OIKAWA REACTING TO THEIR S/O BEING BULLIED

-

KUROO

kuroo is a perspective little shit 

he analysis’ anything and everything 

he isn’t called the scheming captain for nothing 

so when he notice’s his s/o feeling down or acting different from normal he will find out what’s bothering them

he’ll ask you first

and if you’re not willing to give clear answers he’ll just find out himself

he doesn't want to overstep privacy boundaries

but if you’re being upset by something he feels like it’s his duty as your boyfriend to sort it out

so one day you’re waiting for him after practice

and you both usually meet outside the gym doors to talk home together

however

this time you’ve unfortunately encountered the people who have been making school life unbearable for you

“look its stupid little y/n!”

“why are you still here? waiting for your boyfriend like some sort of lost dog?”

“i don’t know how he puts up with you”

“so clingy and desperate for support i feel so bad for him”

they have you cornered and you’re outnumbered by far 

kuroo has been waiting outside the gym doors for 5 minutes now and is confused 

you’re never ever late 

so he wanders around looking for you since you aren't answering your phone 

now kuroo is annoying but he isn’t stupid

he’s had a hunch about what’s been bothering you lately

he’s noticed a few kids often hang behind class until you leave and they seem to surround you when you’re trying to leave your classroom

he never intervened because he didn’t want to wrongly accuse them of harassing you in case you were friends with them

but you still didn’t look particularly thrilled when you got away from them

so kuroo hears some familiar voices and he heads straight over to them

“don’t cry y/n you don't want to look even more ugly than you already do”

“oh look y/n’s crying they can't even handle a few jokes”

“your boyfriend might even dump you when he sees you”

“the only ones who need dumping are all of you into a pit of fire 🥰”

there stands the 6′2, muscular built, powerhouse school national level volleyball captain with the coldest look he’s ever had

the kids surrounding you are dead silent

“what? nobodies got anything to say now? i thought we were all just laughing and joking with each other so why’d we stop now?”

kuroos eyes soften as soon as they meet yours 

he’s grabbed your hand and pulled you tightly into his chest

“i don't think much of a warning needs to be made but let me make this clear just this once because i don't like having to remind people things, come near her, approach, talk about or to her again and you’re going to have a personal problem with me and my team. got it?”

lmfao the little bitches nod trembling and run 🏃🏽‍♀️

kuroo is such a science nerd who makes awful jokes and has the worlds most obnoxious laugh 

but he’s also a man and a captain and sometimes it’s easy to forget that

he can pick and choose when and what he wants to be perceived as

and right then he has chosen to show you who he really can be 

“why didn’t you tell me angel?”

“i didn’t want to have to bother you”

“oh baby you’re never ever a bother to me. im sorry i couldn't help sooner please never hesitate to tell me if anything like this happens again”

kuroo’s warning sticks with your bullies and they don't bother you anymore

the volleyball team and coach nekomata are throwing dirty ass looks at them too nfjdsbfjs

all in all, kuroo just wants you to know he is there to support you

and he’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy and comfortable 

-

TSUKISHIMA

lmao all i’ve got to say to your bullies is good luck

because if tuski finds out you’ve been bullying his s/o

you’re done for 

this boy has no mercy

he doesn't even need to physically fight

his words can cut deeper than any knife and he knows it 

so when he notices you've been feeling more anxious around school and clinging to him a little more

he grows sus

he’s immediately closing in on who is bothering you and what insults he wants to throw at them

tuski has an exam and it runs a little into lunch 

he told you that if it runs over than you can just wait by your classroom and he’d come and get you 

however while you’re waiting you have a run in with the students who have been giving you a hard time 

just like tuski you’re a student who thrives in academics 

so a few of your classmates aren't particularly fond of your constant reign of lead in your class

“ew y/n you gross weirdo why are you here?”

“they’re probably waiting for their boyfriend to come and pick them up”

“such an entitled little shit, waiting to be collected who do you think you are”

so far you’d done pretty well ignoring them 

but that was in an environment with many other students who’d call your bullies out if they were to step out of line in class

right now you’re an easy target though

nobody to protect you

well that’s what you thought anyway

you feel your bag get snatched from your hands and thrown to the ground 

the bullies are kicking your stuff around laughing while you have no choice but to watch is despair 

that's until one of them is tripped up and lands face flat onto the ground

“you think i should kick them around and see if they can take it?”

tuski is standing there with a dark smile on his face

“so brave of you to pick on my y/n when you all have the audacity to look the way you do and don't even get me started on your academics”

“if i were you'd just apologise to your parents now because realistically what are you all going to do in your lives? success doesn't really look like it fits any of you to be honest”

the other students don't even know what to say

they can't exactly say anything

tsukishima is known to have a sharp tongue with an endless flow of direct insults 

“it’d be a shame if a teacher were to find out about this wouldn't it. im thinking suspension maybe? perhaps you should all call your parents up right now and apologise for your inevitable suspension”

the bullies look at each other nervously

he couldn’t be serious right

“im waiting”

these kids whip out their phones and are calling their confused parents trying to explain about how they could be suspended

“now off you all go, get out of my sight and don't you dare come near her again”

they be sprinting out the hallways 

“you weren’t actually gonna get them suspended were you?”

“it was depending on how fast they called their parents really”

tsukishima is on the floor helping you gather you trashed things

“im annoyed you didn't tell me. don't keep things like this from me yeah? cause not only am i here for you but, i get a kick out of it to. besides, im the only one who gets to be playfully mean to you.”

and he’ll make sure to keep a closer eye on you and keep you around him for a little longer just till he’s certain you’ve been left alone

OIKAWA

fangirls 

the absolute bane of his existence 

oikawa appreciated the support but it was overbearing sometimes 

especially when he just wants to spend time with his precious y/n-chan

in front of him, his fangirls would be so polite and supportive 

“you and y/n look so good together”

“i hope you’re treating them well”

“oikawa is is lucky”

but behind his back these girls were nothing but vicious and spiteful towards you 

you knew you’d have to deal with his fangirls at some point 

you’d decided to keep your relationship hidden for the first few months until oikawa suggested going public and you felt like you couldn’t say no

you’d hear comments as you walked through the halls

classes would’ve been a nightmare if iwaizumi wasn’t in your class

he knew you were struggling with oikawa’s fangirls but you pleaded him not to say anything to his best friend 

iwaizumi didn't exactly want to keep this from oikawa but he also didn't want to go against your wishes 

you compromised instead and told iwaizumi about everything the fangirls put you through and sometimes he’d even take it lightly into his own hand 

despite the fact you had oikawa’s best friend looking out for you, this was also a reason the bullying got worse

“you think you can get iwaizumi to back you up now? you want the whole team or what?”

yes

“stop being so overdramatic oikawa shouldn’t have to put up with someone as fragile as you”

“he can do so much better did you manifest or do witchcraft to get him to date you?”

the comments had become so common to you they started to have no effect

you slowly became more and more emotionally unavailable and this was something oikawa had started to pick up on

“y/n-chan you’ve stopped smiling at me so much. have i upset you?”

at first he’d think he did something wrong and he’d desperatly rack his brain for anything he could’ve done to offend you

“no you haven’t tooru i’ve just been tired lately”

you’d lie and give him a small fake smile 

but oikawa has given enough fake smiles in his life and is more than capable of being able to tell a real smile to a fake one

like kuroo though, he wouldn’t want to push any privacy boundaries and can only hope you’d open up to him soon

it doesn’t mean he’s not going to be watching you even closer now

he’ll ask iwaizumi whether he’s seen a change in your behaviour 

iwaizumi has finally decided this has gone too far

“idiot do you not see it’s your shitty fangirls that are making them miserable?”

“my fangirls?”

“yes your fangirls. y/n can’t catch a break with them around they’re really nasty to her and i don’t know how it’s taken you so long to see”

now that oikawa thinks about it you do cling to him a little tighter when they’re around

you don’t thank them for their ‘compliments’ about your relationship with the setter

you go extremely quiet and anxious when they’re around

oikawa had just thought it was nerves from sudden attention

he didn’t realise they had been secretly harassing you 

so oikawa goes to wait outside your locker when the day ends

“tooru shouldn't you be at practice?”

“come with me” he says sternly but he’s giving you a reassuring look as he grips your hand securely in his larger one

he walks you quickly through the halls and round to the entrance of the gym where his fangirls are usually waiting for practice to start

“oikawa-san! why aren’t you in uniform? is practice cancelled?”

“oh y/n is here... that's cute”

oikawa is beyond livid just from their presence alone

they even had the nerve to say your name?

“you know what isn’t fucking cute though? your disgusting behaviour”

the fangirls are look between each other innocently

“what do you mean oikawa-san?”

“don’t play oblivious with me you bitches! what was going through your heads when you all thought it was okay to harass MY y/n-chan?!”

the girls are silent now

oikawa is usually so charming and relaxed 

nobody sees him worked up outside the court

“there’s a reason none of you have even been allowed to be considered to have the chance to get to know me, you’re all fake. every single one of you. i hate fake people more than anything. this behaviour is gross i want none of you associated with me get out of here and if i hear one more thing about anyone upsetting y/n hell will be broken loose and that won’t just be from me.”

oikawa did not stutter 😌

king

the girls leave immediately 

“i think you’ve just lost yourself your whole fan club”

“oh y/n they were never fans if they have the nerve to upset someone they know i love. why didn’t you tell me i would’ve said something sooner”

“i just didn't want to upset you about your fans”

“you’re always going to be the first priority to me always if they or anyone else ever bothers you again, promise you’ll tell me straight away?”

“promise.”

after that he’ll take you to sit on the bench on the side of the court so you can watch him play and he can keep an eye on you

yeah oikawa may seem like a carefree people pleaser

but if you’re upsetting his s/o, you’ll be experiencing the side he tries to keep under control and he won’t be afraid to let loose.

-

ALL CONTENT BELONGS TO @KUROOSKULT ON TUMBLR 2020 PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, CHANGE OR PLAGIARISE

[raleighcarrera]

falling

platinum | raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian)

a little while ago i posted about the idea of a soulmate au where the first words raleigh & cadence say to each other are tattooed on them their whole lives, and this... is that. (for @platinumweekend ❤️)

tags: @choicesarehard ; @empressazura; @emomoustache ; @natesewell ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixeljazzy ; @brycemaloliver ; @grigori-girl ; @dulceghernandez ; @bitchloveskcbaseball ; @withbeautyandrage 

~10.5k words | T

i.

the words appear in looping script on his thirteenth birthday, right on time. they curve along the inside of his bicep, innocently punctuated. what’s your name?

“you got lucky,” one of his older cousins tells him, later, when everyone in his family comes by for cake and to ooh and aah over his new tattoo, “you’ll be able to hide that with a shirt or a jacket easily.”

but raleigh sleeps shirtless every night for the next two years, even when it’s cold, so that the words are the last thing he sees with his head pillowed on his arm before he falls asleep, dreaming of the nameless, faceless person who will one day say them, wondering what their voice might sound like when they do.

ii.

she has a more difficult go of it.

being a thirteen year old girl would be miserable enough without the added pressure of the words that practically feel broadcast across her forehead, most of the time. everyone at school teases her constantly and ruthlessly: say something funny, cadence. go on. tell us a joke!

so it’s difficult not to resent the two words scrawled lazily across her collarbone and the person attached to them, especially in the mornings before school when she’s angrily rearranging her neckline and jewelry in the mirror while the bus idles outside.

very funny. she isn’t, really. she’s plenty of things -- determined and passionate and sensitive, definitely, but... no one’s ever found her particularly funny, before.

and no one seems to understand just how much the expectation of having to be funny, one day, is weighing on her, not even her parents, when she finally works up the courage to squeak out, “but how am i supposed to know what i should say?”

her mom laughs indulgently, like she’s already said something funny. her stomach sinks further.

“oh, sweetheart,” she tells her, “don’t worry, it won’t matter. you just will.”

iii.

people ask him about it. a lot.

it gets difficult to keep it a secret as things change around him, but raleigh’s careful to avoid slip-ups and paparazzi photos and he doesn’t say a word about it in interviews, even when he’s asked directly. he’s never seen without short sleeves on, at the very least, and he doesn’t even tell blair and cameron about it.

he sort of wishes he had, though, because as his life turns upside down and he adapts to a new country with a new set of rules and an industry that makes his head spin most of the time it starts to feel more and more confusing, those three words -- what’s your name?

everywhere he goes, thousands of girls blocking the street scream it at him. so how is it possible that whoever’s waiting to meet him doesn’t already know it?

and what does that mean for how the rest of his life is going to turn out? 

what if all of this -- the fame and the money and the notoriety -- is fleeting, and he’s only a few short years from being completely washed up and irrelevant? what if the day he’s meant to meet his person is so far away that he’ll be completely out of the spotlight, by then, with sunset skatepark playing reunion tours and him having spent most of his life alone?

it’s a lot of pressure, for someone who’s already working their way through such a serious adjustment, and most of the time it’s dizzying, thinking about the fact that there’s someone out there who’s supposed to be perfect for him, when everyone he meets seems determined to forget every word they know other than yes, so they can suck up to him as much as possible.

his teenage years fly by in a whirlwind of mistakes and regrets. there’s things he would’ve never dreamed would come his way, like world tours and more money than he can count and so many girls who know everything about him before they even sit down to dinner, but there’s more than that, too.

there’s all the ways the industry weakens his trust until it’s gone, all the people who try to use him for what he can do for them, all the times he stumbles until he finally learns to distance himself by cultivating a persona, by leaning into all the expectations of raleigh carrera and creating something so outlandish it doesn’t hurt as much when disaster follows him around because it’s supposed to.

he watches everything that surrounds him turn fake and plastic and puts his energy only into his music, coasting on the rest. the days are less exciting than when he first joined the band at fifteen; he’s a solo artist, now, and most of the time, he’s just trying to get through.

but chaos continues to follow him and eventually his notoriety is inescapable. his first solo album is self-titled and he somehow manages to get a trademark on the word raleigh, as if the name is now more his than anything that ever belonged to the state of north carolina, and part of him sort of expects the words stamped on his arm to change, once he hits one-hundred million followers on his social channels.

they never do, though, and when he’s alone, and the veneer he’s built up for everyone else fades away, he can’t help but to be fascinated by this person who just wants an answer to the question no one else would ever dare ask him.

iv.

college isn’t exactly the fresh start she was hoping it’d be.

she was a loser in high school and things don’t get much better for her even now that she’s with ‘her people’ at a performing arts university she can barely afford, even with two part-time jobs. 

shane is across the country at a proper state school with parties and a social life and lots of friends who aren’t her, and she’s failing her improv class, proving that she isn’t actually very funny at all. 

boys continue to not notice her and patrons in bars continue to turn away from her one-woman performance, her old acoustic guitar the only constant in a life that feels utterly, unbelievably pointless, most of the time.

it’s like she’s drifting through the days, putting her time in at college in the hopes that it’ll fortify her for what’s next -- her big break, the discovery that’ll get her out of that shitty small town she’s been trying to escape her entire life. she writes hundreds of songs about how lost she feels and hates every single one, dreaming of a time when things might be different and she doesn’t have to second-guess every single one of her decisions.

she doesn’t have much of a love life and tries not to think about that, either.

the person on the other side of those two words stuck on her collarbone is probably looking for someone self-confident, who knows who they are and is comfortable with that. they’re probably expecting to meet someone who has their life together, who, at the very least, has a plan.

they’re probably not expecting a talentless nobody screwup like her, someone who tries as hard as she can yet never seems to make anything work.

things don’t turn around after graduation, either. sure, she manages to find an apartment in a building that’s nice enough and uses the last of her savings on the deposit and trying to furnish it, but it’s only a few weeks of trying and failing to secure a regular paying gig performing before she’s back at smoothie star again, begging for her old job back.

and there’s nothing that makes her feel more like a failure than working the same shifts she had in high school. 

as she hums along to the radio on a random tuesday afternoon when the store is dead and there’s nothing to blend, she wonders what mr.-or-mrs. very funny would think if they walked in and saw her here -- twenty-three years old and flat broke, with a dead-end job and a one-bedroom apartment all she has to show for her very expensive and very useless bachelor’s degree.

that, and a notebook full of half-finished songs about relationships she could only ever dream about and an escape from the miserable small town she lives in that feels farther away with every day that passes.

she can’t imagine they’d be very impressed.

v.

raleigh’s life gets monotonous very quickly. the music takes a backseat to the scandals and for a while there’s a predictable pattern of cause trouble, clean up image, rinse and repeat.

there are girls in between the cycles to help him pass the time. some he likes well enough and some he despises, but for the most part his management gives their recommendations and he agrees and makes awkward conversation for an hour or two over brunch until it’s time to go trash something again.

things get particularly bad after one minor cruise ship hijacking incident. 

but in his defense, no one ever told him that breaking into the harbor and joy riding was a first-degree felony, worsened by the fact that he’d just so happened to crash the boat into the pier while he was trying to dock it. 

at least he’d been sober.

though a monumental fuck up like this felt sort of inevitable; everyone who knew him probably figured it was only a matter of time before he went too far. how could he not when he was always chasing the next high?

still, the image rehab tour that follows is far from what he’d call enjoyable. he has to cut off all his hair and play nice at industry parties and waste time standing around being seen at charity events he winds up just cutting checks for instead of helping out at.

on top of the miserable community service comes the pr bullshit his team so loves -- dozens of tv appearances back-to-back where he’s herded around all day like cattle, in and out of green rooms with crappy coffee and bad catering.

he has no idea that showing up to be a judge on one in a million is going to change his life. hungover and running late, he barely even makes it to the taping of the semi-finals, slinking inside the concert hall in middle-of-nowhere, usa with a headache and some choice words for whoever thought this was the best way to clean up his image.

fortunately, raleigh manages to make his way inside virtually unnoticed. his phone is buzzing angrily in his pocket -- undoubtedly his manager trying to encourage him to hair and makeup or some other absurdity -- but he ignores it in favor of ducking back behind the line near the auditorium doors, only barely catching the last few words of some catty confrontation between two contestants as he goes.

as one of the girls stomps away, he sees the other’s shoulders slump from behind. “guess i’m not making any friends,” she mutters.

it’s clearly said to no one -- not even to herself, really -- yet for some reason, he can’t stop himself from responding. “where i come from, that’s a good thing.”

the girl’s shoulders straighten, but she still doesn’t turn around. “i’m not trying to succeed at the cost of others.”

raleigh smirks, leaning back against the wall beside his guitar case. “you do realize you’re at a competition show, right?”

“of course, but...” her hair ruffles with what sounds like a huff. she’s still not facing him, staring off at where the other girl she’d been talking to had run away. “that doesn’t mean i’m not rooting for everyone here to share their music with the world.”

“what a sweet sentiment,” raleigh drawls sarcastically, almost feeling a little bad for her and her naivety. this poor girl is going to be eaten alive. “it won’t last.”

her body tenses, her shoulders tightening again. he can almost see smoke start to pour from her ears before she spins suddenly on her heel to face him. 

whatever sharp retort had been on the tip of her tongue gets swallowed with a blink as soon as their eyes meet. something like electricity crackles in the space between them, strengthening the invisible pull he’d felt when he first stopped behind her. instead, she only asks, “what’s your name?”

vi.

the man in front of her snorts. “very funny.”

a smile tugs at her lips. “very funny, that’s a weird name.” this is unlike her -- the quick comeback, the flirting. usually being face-to-face with a guy as good looking as the one talking to her now made her want to wither away and die, but something about the stranger standing before her sets her instantly at ease. “so, are you gonna tell me, or not?”

now it’s his turn to blink at her. a hand lifts to rub at his jaw. “huh. you really don’t know who i am, do you?”

cadence’s eyes narrow as she assess him. there is something vaguely familiar about that crooked grin, she’s sure of it. 

at the very least, it’s an excuse to stare at him, and she does, moving her eyes slowly over the tattoos poking out over his jacket collar, the line of stubble on his sharp jaw, the glint of mischief in his eyes.

her helpless gaping is interrupted by a sudden shrill scream. “oh. my. god! is that raleigh carrera?!”

everything clicks at once. as a wild group of girls corner him, she realizes where she’s seen that smile before -- on just about every tabloid cover known to man, plastered all over convenience stores and the internet with headlines about his latest bender. in fact, she’s pretty sure he was just in the news for something similar -- crashing a yacht or something else ridiculous like that, something that only someone as rich as raleigh carrera could have accomplished. 

then she realizes what he’d said to her, as soon as she’d turned to look him in the eyes. very funny. 

her heart stops. all she can do is stare wide-eyed at him as he dispels the girls clamoring for a selfie, snapping back to the present when he waves one large hand in front of her face. 

“sorry -- what?”

“i said, what’s your name? it only seems fair, now that you know mine, and all.”

“cadence,” she answers numbly, “i’m -- um, i’m used to your hair being longer.”

“cadence,” raleigh repeats, smiling at her, “so you do know who i am.”

“what do the magazines call you again? r&b’s time bomb? puerto rico’s hottest export? you’re kind of notorious.” she blinks at him, then admits, “i’ve heard your songs.”

“seen the tabloid covers too, eh?” the expression on his face suggests he’s almost proud of them.

this is surreal.

“didn’t you crash a yacht or something?” she asks, brain whirring into overdrive as she tries to process what’s happening. he doesn’t seem to have realized it yet, which gives her a moment to gather her thoughts, something that feels impossible when she can’t push the way he’d scoffed very funny out of her mind. 

“or something. insurance paid out a couple million in property damage, but...” raleigh trails off, brow suddenly furrowing. he stares at her silently for a beat too long, then slowly turns a dull red. “hey, what’d you say earlier, again?”

cadence wets her dry lips, trying not to panic. stay calm, she silently coaches herself. raleigh carrera is not your long-awaited soulmate and you are not doing this in line to audition for one in a million. “i said -- what’s your name? and then you said...”

oh god, this is happening. her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she fidgets with the neckline of her top, tugging it to the side so raleigh can see the two words on her collarbone. 

“very funny,” he mutters, “oh, jesus fucking christ. you can’t be serious.”

“me?” she demands, “you’re the one who --”

“next up,” calls a voice suddenly, cutting sharply through their argument, “contestant #9,276.”

her blood runs cold as she realizes that’s the number she’s wearing pinned to her shirt. she can feel herself start to sweat; how the fuck is she supposed to perform like this? she wants to throw up. why did this have to happen to her now? this was her shot -- her one fucking chance --

“hey, easy.” there’s suddenly two strong hands on either side of her shoulders, and she startles as raleigh stares at her from up close, closer than he was just a moment ago. “relax, okay? you’re gonna be fine. you’ve got this.”

“but --” she starts, then realizes her mind is racing too quickly to even articulate what she wants to say. she settles for shaking her head, eyes wide and panicked. “i can’t just -- oh my god, i’m going to throw up.”

“here,” raleigh directs, “take my guitar. prince gave it to me as a birthday present.”

prince?! she mouths hysterically to herself, as he flips the latch on his case open and pulls out the instrument. “how is this supposed to help me?”

“just trust me,” he says, giving her a gentle nudge towards the auditorium, “now go.”

she does, stumbling forward with the most expensive piece of equipment she’s ever held in her hands in her life alongside her, drawing in a deep breath as she makes her way onto the stage.

she can do this.

everything else will have to come after.

vii.

the thing is -- she’s talented. exceptionally so. 

he can tell she’s a little nervous, but maybe that’s just because he’s used to looking out for that sort of thing; he could probably recognize it more easily than the average person would. it probably has nothing to do with who they are, how he notices the nuances in her body language...

her belt is impressive. her voice is stunning, clear and uniquely melodic. his guitar looks spectacular in her hands, and cadence plays it like she’s been practicing on it her entire life. 

he tries his best to look nonchalant, feet kicked up onto the seat in front of him, but when she locks eyes with him from the stage he knows he hasn’t succeeded. raleigh’s breath catches, and he stares back at her, transfixed by the way her dainty hands cradle the neck of the guitar and strum the strings, how her lips purse around the long, emotional high note at the end of the song’s chorus.

she’s really very pretty. 

he’d probably be lying to himself if he said it doesn’t make him a little bit jealous and uncomfortable, watching how she and avery fawn over each other when she’s finished. he’s probably a much better suited match for her, clean cut and pristine as he is. 

he wonders if she’s disappointed that it’s him -- that it’s now, when she’s clearly on the cusp of something great all on her own.

it’s a lot to think about, and so he dips out of the auditorium before she finishes up, rushing outside with his heart pounding. it’s not until he’s halfway through the crumpled pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket that raleigh starts to relax even an iota, and of course that’s when the stage door he’d left propped swings open wide and cadence’s sneakers hit the asphalt beside his boots.

“uh, you can’t just leave me with this thing,” she says, apropos of nothing, and as he stares at her he realizes she’s talking about his guitar, which she’s holding in one hand like it’s a dead fish. “this costs more than everything in my apartment combined, i’m sure.”

he shakes his head at her, laughing as his fingers flick ash from the cigarette he’s holding. “no way -- you should keep it. you two looked perfect together.”

she hesitates, looking down at the instrument again. he can see in her eyes that she’s torn; it’s obvious she knows the right thing to do is to refuse a generous gift from a stranger, but she wants to keep it, and already his mind is racing as he considers what else he could give her that would excite her like that -- a private flight, a tour of his penthouse, a million dollars. 

“are you sure?” cadence asks, without looking at him, and the hesitancy in her voice makes him realize how unsure she really is. she’s the one who’s wondering if he’s disappointed in her.

he licks his suddenly dry lips and drops what’s left of his cigarette to the ground, finding he doesn’t actually need the rest of it, anymore. “positive.”

viii.

they don’t actually get to spend a lot of time together, while she’s filming. she has to focus and it seems like she’s always busy, somehow -- not that she sees raleigh very often in the first place.

the days are spent rehearsing with avery and cramming in as much mentoring as possible, and when she can pull herself away from fiona’s lessons on image to get home at a reasonable hour she collapses into bed pretty much immediately, out like a light from the whirlwind of the day and hardly even aware enough to dream.

but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about him. she does, especially on the rare occasions she manages to catch a glimpse of raleigh walking around in the studio, or on one memorable evening she stays late in the auditorium to bang on the piano keys of the beautiful, enviable baby grand on set and startles to find him leaning in the doorway, watching her play.

it’s all a blur and wildly difficult to process; just when she thinks she has a grip on things she remembers the private moments she’s had with raleigh and her emotions tumble to pieces again as she lets the weight of the implications of what’s going on between them crush her completely.

one moment sticks out on her as being particularly worrisome, insofar as how it bodes for the rest of her life. 

it feels like something significant from the moment raleigh offers to help her warm up; they’ve hardly had a moment alone together in days and she still has absolutely no idea how she’s supposed to talk to him or what she should say, but for some reason the conversation flows easily and she hardly has to think about the (no doubt incredibly stupid-sounding) words coming out of her mouth.

“you’re going to kill it,” raleigh says finally, once they’ve worked through all the exercises in his arsenal, “you really don’t need my help.”

never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine someone like him would say something like that to her. “you think?”

“i know it,” he answers confidently, shrugging his shoulders like it’s that simple. “and you should, too.”

there’s a moment of silence where they just stand there staring at each other, ignoring the restless murmuring of the crowd outside that’s waiting for him to slip into his seat at the judge’s table. she’s effortlessly lost in raleigh’s eyes, so fixated on the intensity of his gaze that she doesn’t realize he’s leaning in closer until it’s too late.

“insurance policy,” he mutters, before he kisses her, hands cupping her face gently. 

for a split second, she stands frozen, shocked totally still. then, her brain reboots enough to propel her into motion, and cadence gets with the program enough to wind her arms around raleigh’s waist and pull him closer and kiss him back, until her heart’s lurched up into the throat she’d just been warming up, pounding relentlessly.

they make out until the roar of the crowd is deafening -- until it’s impossible not to acknowledge it any longer. 

of course raleigh’s a life-ruiningly good kisser. why wouldn’t he be? why should any of this be easy?

it’s only a few simple touches, but raleigh’s mouth leaves her dizzy and lightheaded when she’s supposed to be concentrating on performing, and, independently of the way she’s blinking at him in stupid shock, cadence already knows she’ll never be able to kiss anyone else ever again without thinking about him.

“i have to get out there,” she gasps between desperate presses of their lips against each other, grasping ineffectively at his clothes while his fingers tug her hair out of shape.

“be late,” he suggests, “it always works for me.” 

but she’s not him. she’s not like him -- they have nothing in common. they come from different worlds; they’re two completely opposite people.

and yet every minute with raleigh is like coming up for air after being underwater for years, like the knots of guilt and shame and awkward embarrassment she’s carried around for her entire life without understanding why she has them are slowly starting to undo themselves, unlaced by his careful fingers.

they make it out there. eventually.

before she knows it, confetti’s raining down from the ceiling and falling all over her, and she locks eyes with raleigh from across the room to find his lips pulled into a genuinely affectionate grin -- lips that she’d just kissed for the first time a fucking hour ago and, seriously, what is her life now -- his eyes bright and excited. 

things just keep getting weirder and weirder, but the way they’re beaming at each other like idiots in a room full of thousands, broadcast on national television, too, makes her think things might be pretty great, too.

ix.

it sort of takes them a long time to getting around to talking about it -- the soulmate thing.

it’s not that he doesn’t try. he does, but she’s got a lot going on, these days: a big move and a new record deal and days filled with songwriting and nights out being seen. he’s still on his image cleanup tour, while she’s at it, so his fake smile stays fixed on his face throughout another boring week of restaurant openings and charity events and talkshow appearances before he finally gets the chance to spend some time with her again.

they text here and there, but nothing pans out until the stars align and they manage to slip out of the back door of a nightclub unnoticed together after a night of dancing too close for the comfort of her publicist while avery and the others cause a commotion at the front entrance to distract the press.

she goes back to his penthouse with him. he can’t remember the last time he brought a girl back to his apartment just to talk, and especially not one who spent the better part of the evening in a sparkly minidress grinding against him. 

but here they are.

“so -- how’s the city treating you?” raleigh asks, pouring them both a drink he doesn’t want from the bar cart in the corner of the room for something to do with his hands.

cadence shrugs from where she’s perched on the edge of his sofa, tugging at the hem of her dress. “good, i guess. it’s honestly all kind of overwhelming.”

“yeah,” he nods, passing her one of the glasses in his hands and taking a seat on the ottoman in front of her, close enough to see her face in perfect clarity but still maintaining a distance that he hopes is respectful. “i know what you mean. when i first came here after joining sunset skatepark everything felt so... huge.”

“totally,” cadence answers quickly, nodding in a way that’s almost aggressive. “i mean, there’s so much pressure to deliver an album right away, but i want it to be perfect, and the studio is so different from, like, writing songs in my room at home, and i... i guess i feel kind of homesick, but -- not for my hometown. i hated that place.” there’s hesitancy in her gaze when she asks, “do you know what i mean?”

“yeah,” raleigh says again stupidly, because the truth is -- he knows exactly what she means. cadence has just articulated something he could never quite put into words better than he’d even thought the sentiments to himself. “it’s like... nostalgia for something you don’t even want.”

“exactly,” she breathes emphatically, and then they’re kissing again, and she’s in his lap on the ottoman and he definitely brought her here to talk, for sure, but is it really so terrible if they get a little sidetracked on the way to their destination?

well -- they wind up making out for hours. so, there’s that.

it’s not part of the plan but it’s a hell of a side quest, memorizing the shape and feel of her with his hands while her lips pull every last bit of breath from his lungs, until he’s lightheaded and dizzy in a way no other girl has ever made him, before. it’s to the point where when he finally finds it within himself to push her away, he’s uncharacteristically nervous -- something that’s never happened to him before, not even on the night he lost his virginity.

“i really did ask you over to talk,” he says, voice hoarse.

cadence licks her lips and then beams at him, eyes sparkling. “i know.” she shuffles delicately back onto the couch, lingering in his lap for only a moment before pulling away entirely. he stuffs his hands under his thighs to stop himself from reaching out for her again. “sorry i haven’t been around more.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” raleigh shakes his head. “i should be apologizing to you, i feel like... i should be the one who’s around, to help you with all of this. or at least -- i want to be. i don’t know if i’ll be any good at it.” 

he blinks, surprised by his own honesty. he hadn’t meant to say all of that, but the words came up before he was cognizant of them and now they’re out there, and there’s no taking them back -- especially with the way she’s looking at him, all soft and sweet and happy.

“well, you don’t have to be good at it,” cadence murmurs, reaching out for his wrists and tugging his hands free so she can interlock their fingers effortlessly. they fit together like puzzle pieces. “you just have to be you.”

x.

her budding relationship with one of the biggest names in r&b doesn’t have much time to bud at all before it’s rudely plucked from the plant and stepped on.

she finds herself blinking at fiona in confusion as the words take some time to process. “you want me to do what?”

xi.

raleigh balks at his manager, shaking his head emphatically. “no,” he spits out, “absolutely not.”

xii.

“cadence, it’s not a big deal,” fiona tells her, very nearly rolling her eyes. “everyone does it. you go on a few dates, play up the relationship for some photos, social media eats it up -- boom, you’re a star.”

“i don’t know,” she answers hesitantly, mind drifting back to the photographers that have already been following her around, screaming about avery when she ducks into the car with him. things with raleigh are... new, and complicated, and do they really need to add public scrutiny into the mix as well? “i just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“it’s a great idea,” fiona sighs, shaking her head. “all our focus groups agree. the label thinks it’s best, what with your single taking so long to put out.” she opens her mouth to protest -- it’s not like she’s dragging her feet on purpose -- but barely has a second to get a word out before fiona continues, “besides, raleigh does this all the time.”

her teeth bite at her bottom lip uncertainly. “he does?”

“of course. chantal clearwater? she was a pictagram model when they met, and now she’s opening shows at paris fashion week. it’s just business.”

it’s not, though. it could never be just anything, for reasons no one else knows about except the two of them, for reasons she’ll never tell. “well... what did raleigh say about it?”

xiii.

“i said no, frank.” he’s annoyed, now, and his manager knows it, raleigh’s arms folded across his chest and his eyes set into a glare. “n. o. no.”

“and i hear you, but is it really the end of the world? she’s exactly what we’re going for, and i know you already get along --”

“which is exactly why i don’t want to do this. so pick someone else. anyone else.” he’s not going to let his label turn her into one of the girls he has to be seen with for fake photos and mutually beneficial positive press. 

for so many years, he’s watched people fake feelings and use each other -- willingly participated in the using himself, too, more times than he can count. he never cared about any of it before.

but being with cadence doesn’t feel fake, and he doesn’t ever want it to. and he knows that if he agrees to this, everything he enjoys about spending time with her will disappear in favor of the ugly, plastic decay that’s eaten away at so many of his personal and professional relationships before. organic, genuine time with her will become strolls near celebrity hotspots, angling just right to help the cameras get the perfect shot. he’ll show up to support her at shows because her publicist called him, and their time together will become some manufactured narrative meant to push their labels’ agenda, until six months down the line they don’t even recognize themselves or what might’ve been if they’d done things a different way.

“look, there isn’t anyone else. her team’s already agreed to it, and i’ve got brunch set up for sunday. all you have to do is play nice for two fucking months, raleigh. is that so impossible for you?”

yes. already he feels a deep-seated desire to go somewhere and break something, to tear through the flower beds in central park with his motorcycle and wink at the cameras when they catch up to him.

instead, he storms out of the office he’s in, and into the sunlight, tugging the hood on his jacket up and melting into the crowd on the corner so he can be as anonymous as possible when he picks up his phone and calls cadence.

“hey raleigh,” she chirps as soon as she picks up, sounding far too cheerful for someone who’s likely had an equally as miserable early morning meeting on a friday. “guessing you heard the news?”

“can’t i just call you to say hi?” he grumbles, ducking his head as he strolls through the intersection with the mob of people crowded along fifth ave, turning down the next side street so he’s alone again, with no one following, just like that. 

“well, you can,” she teases, and some of the anger he’s carrying around with him fades, dissipating into nothing and evaporating like smoke. “but you’re not.”

“no, i’m not,” he agrees with a sigh, shaking his head. “you sound surprisingly cool with it, though.”

“should i not be?” cadence laughs, but he can detect a thread of nervousness in her tone. “i already want to hang out with you. we have the same friends and work in the same industry. we’re... probably going to go on dates anyway, so... how hard can this be?”

god. she has absolutely no idea. part of him thinks it’d be cruel to burst her bubble, but he should warn her, shouldn’t he? 

she sounds so optimistic about it, though. it’s hard to feel anything but hopeful when her voice turns up like that at the end. in the back of his mind, there’s a voice that’s not his suggesting maybe this time, things will be different. 

surely he knows better than to think something as ridiculous as that, though, right? 

“well, i guess it’ll be interesting, at least,” he muses, slowing his steps by the entrance to the subway. 

he’s going to lose his signal just as soon as he heads underground, and he’s not quite ready for that, yet.

xiv.

time with raleigh flies by. 

it doesn’t feel like they’re fake-dating -- they do everything she hopes he’d want to do with her anyway, like go out to eat at fancy restaurants and take walks through the park and bounce melodies for songs off of each other, facetiming late at night from their apartments or on the days he visits her and micah in the studio. 

he’s by her side for the release of her first single, and her first music video, and through it all, raleigh plays the role of the doting partner perfectly, holding her purse on the red carpet and feeding her paella at a strategically-placed outdoor table and fetching her coffee order when she’s too busy to stop writing for even just five minutes.

in the blink of an eye, it’s time to put out her album -- just like that. 

raleigh’s perfectly charming through that process, too. he shows up on time, says all the right things, and keeps a drink in her hand all evening long, so that when she’s finally done making the rounds and can enjoy herself after the entertainment and the networking and the schmoozing she’s giggly and touchy, doing her best to steal him away from the crowd.

“what were your other relationships like?” she asks, half expecting him to brush her off, though he’s always indulged her before. they’ve never really gotten this personal. “fake or... otherwise.”

“they’ve all been fake,” he shrugs, “and i can say with confidence that you’re the best one i’ve ever had.”

“really?” cadence smiles, chin propped up on her hand as she leans over the bar. “be honest. what did you really think, when you realized it was me?”

“what?” he asks, pushing the empty rocks glass in his hands around on the bar top, “you mean this thing?” he gestures at his arm, covered in expensive, custom tom ford, and the tattoo laying innocently beneath it.

“uh huh,” she confirms, “‘cause i was totally like oh shit.”

raleigh laughs, loud and wild, the sound swallowed up by the noise of the party around them. no one nearby is paying them even an ounce of attention, and it’s fun, to be anonymous at her own party, invisible to everyone in the room except for him. “i can imagine. i wouldn’t want to be stuck with me either.”

cadence shakes her head -- that’s not what she’d meant. but before she can protest, he rolls his glass between his palms and thoughtfully continues, “i guess i was a little surprised. it felt like i’d been waiting forever to meet you, so part of me was like, fuck, we’re doing this now? and i never thought it’d be someone so...”

“boring?” she suggests, eyebrows arching when raleigh’s expression immediately twists into one of disagreement, his nose scrunching up with distaste.

“no,” he huffs, “so... good, i guess.” she stares at him as he reaches for one of the waiting tequila shots on the bar, pulling it away from the line he’d set up for the crowd he’d been with before she’d tugged him to the side to talk, leaving the drinks untouched. raleigh knocks the shot back -- no salt, no lime. he’s had twice as many drinks as she has, and she’s definitely feeling them -- she has no idea how he’s even still upright, no worse for wear other than a few slurred words here and there. “but you just are. it’s like every song i’ve ever written was about you, and i just didn’t know it yet.”

the noise of the party fades in favor of the pounding of her heart, loud like a kick drum in her ears. she bites her lip and stares at him, watching as raleigh shakes his head at himself, dazed. “you okay?” she asks quietly, leaning in a little across the bar. 

raleigh’s quiet for so long she has to wonder whether or not he actually heard her. just as she clears her throat and opens her mouth to repeat herself even louder, he nods, reaching across the bar and squeezing her hand before dragging her back over to the line of tequila shots waiting for them to enjoy.

the night is a blur after that, and there’s patches of the evening that are fuzzy in her memory the next morning, but she knows she’ll never forget the gentle kiss goodnight raleigh gives her when he helps her stumble into the car back to her apartment at dawn.

xv. 

things go really well, until they don’t. 

they have a blissful six months together with more fun than he’s ever had with anyone. slowly, he learns every single thing about cadence and returns her openness with honesty of his own -- honesty that feels strange and unfamiliar but weirdly thrilling, in a way, made easier every time one of his stories pulls a laugh or smile from her. 

it seems unnatural, having a honeymoon period that goes on for so long. in the entire time they’re dating, he doesn’t destroy a single thing -- doesn’t even want to, which is the weirdest part of it all. 

there are some moments that catch him completely off guard. more than a few times, he hardly even recognizes himself, she turns him into such a different person. 

he doesn’t hate it, though -- just the opposite, in fact. raleigh realizes he’s really starting to like the carefree, far from jaded person he is when he’s with her, though it only hits him for real when he’s watching her storm away from him on liberty island, eyes fixed on the angry sway of her hips.

he stews on it on the long ride back to his penthouse; the game had, admittedly, been starting to wear on him. but he’d gone along with it because it was supposed to benefit her -- he’d agreed to the stupid public breakup and following the rules and not seeing cadence in public for the foreseeable future because it was what she wanted, and -- frankly, it felt like a stupid fucking decision.

not that it lasts long. he starts texting her just as soon as he’s done washing electralite out of his hair and doesn’t make it more than twenty minutes when they first see each other again at the moda gala before he’s sneaking off with her, ducking under the velvet rope that demarcates the planetarium as ‘off limits’ with her hand tucked neatly in his.

“maybe this is better,” cadence muses between sips of her drink, her eyes on one of the stupid glass exhibits he couldn’t possibly care less about. “now we can just be together -- no pressure. our relationship is ours again.”

their relationship. is that what this is? they’ve spent a lot of time talking about who they are and what they like and don’t like, kissing and touching and holding hands. throughout it all, he’s done his best not to buy into the ‘soulmate’ bullshit too heavily, but over the last few months it’s been hard to deny that there’s a reason he was meant to meet her, that she’s been changing him from the inside out.

“what’s on your mind?” she asks, turning towards him with an open look of genuine curiosity on her face, like she really wants to know. 

“it’s nothing,” raleigh answers at first, reflexively, like he has so many times before. no one has ever really wanted to know. but cadence’s eyebrows arch, and she waits, patiently silent, and then the words tumble out of him. “it’s just that -- my whole life, i’ve watched other people use each other. so many people are just interested in the concept of celebrity status. so i played the game. never trusting anyone.” 

he shrugs. a hand lifts to rub his jaw, and he looks back to meet her gaze just in time to see the little smile playing at her lips, like she already knows what he’s about to say. “but it’s different, with you. you make me not want to be that person anymore. when i’m with you, it’s the only time i feel anything real.”

“raleigh,” she murmurs, her expression flickering before her face does something that cracks his chest wide open. her eyes go all shiny and sparkly and her cheeks crease with a grin, and the way she laughs is so ridiculously joyful the hand he has stuffed in his pocket curls into a fist to stop him from doing something stupid. “i feel the same way. i just... this whole thing, i know it doesn’t always -- work out, but... with you i really want it to. i’ve never felt this way before about anyone, and i think...” 

there’s a pause as her lips purse thoughtfully, and then she says the words that make it impossible for him to do anything but close the distance between them and kiss her over and over again: “i think even without this tattoo it’d be you, anytime, anywhere.”

xvi.

being raleigh carrera’s (real, confirmed, 100%-authentic) girlfriend feels almost too good to be true.

raleigh is... everything she never knew she wanted in a boyfriend, wrapped up into one tall, dark and handsome package, with a loud, goofy laugh and a deep, sexy voice that sends a shiver down her spine whenever his mouth so much as lingers near her ear for too long. 

it turns out that, despite their differing status in the industry and her initial assumptions that they came from two completely different worlds, they’re actually on the same page about pretty much everything. she finds that the pressure of the word she’d held in such high regard for so long -- soulmate -- disappears entirely where he’s concerned because being with raleigh is just fun. 

there’s motorcycle rides and boat trips and hours up late talking about everything and nothing; facetime calls with his mom and shopping trips where the stores are kept open late for them so they can shop alone, in an empty boutique, like every teen movie she’d ever watched growing up.

there’s late nights in the studio and either of their apartments where they both noodle around on their guitars and improvise half-hearted duets, content to just work in the same orbit as each other for as long as possible.

raleigh’s texting one night on the couch in her living room when she plucks out the melody to who i’ll be on her old acoustic, sitting on the floor in front of the tv.

he looks up before the first verse is over. “what’s that one? it sounds good.”

“oh -- just a song i wrote in college,” cadence hums, already downplaying it as she lifts her shoulder in a shrug. “i got stuck, never finished it. ellis made me sell the progress for some other writer to finish.”

he frowns, pushing up onto his elbow. his phone is tossed carelessly somewhere among the couch cushions. “why?”

“because i was taking too long with the odyssey,” she sighs. “it was kind of my only option. it’s weird, though -- thinking about someone singing something that was so personal to me.”

“play me what you had so far,” he says, and so she does, hesitating for only a second before strumming the chords, singing the lines she had slowly. 

when she’s done, she looks up to find that raleigh’s slid to the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees as he leans in as close as he can get with the coffee table in his way. “okay -- that was beautiful. you should finish it.”

she shakes her head, setting her guitar down. “i can’t. they already sold it. and even if i wanted to... i don’t know how it ends.”

raleigh’s legs spread in invitation and she stands to walk around to the couch, slipping into his lap and leaning back against his chest. his hands are tender as he rubs them across her shoulders, sliding up her back before one lifts to brush a lock of hair back behind her ear, his pointer finger pushing her glasses up her nose affectionately. “maybe one day you can write something else with the same theme,” he suggests, and she tries her best to smile even though it feels like a dream lost, somehow -- a ridiculous thought, given that she pretty much has everything she ever wanted, but the way she feels all the same.

“maybe,” she sighs, the kiss he drops to her forehead a bandaid on a wound that’s been doing its best to heal for what feels like her entire life.

xvii.

he’s never brought a date to the vinyls before. 

there’s been plenty of after parties he’s stumbled out of with a girl on his arm, sure, but cadence is the first person to sit by his side during the ceremony, and he’s surprised by how much he likes having her next to him.

then again, he’s self aware enough to realize he’d like being pretty much anywhere, with her.

still -- the awards are a lot less boring with her around to kiss and stroke his hair and make snide commentary about the rest of the attendees with, and when she squeezes his hand goodbye to rush backstage and get ready for her performance he misses her instantly.

what happens next makes him endlessly regretful of the fact that he’s not backstage with her.

he rushes around just as soon as he can, pushing his way through security and frantically scrambling technical assistants to find her exactly where he thought he might, between ellis knight and fiona, looking lost with her head in her hands.

she seems equal parts broken and pissed in a way that tugs at his heartstrings and makes him a little bit proud. raleigh shoves through the crowd to get to her and slips an arm around her waist. he’s only caught the tail end of the conversation they’re all having, but he knows enough to know that “you can’t bench her. that’s bull.”

ultimately, though, it doesn’t matter how much they stomp their feet. she’s under contract, their hands are tied, and he walks away seething at the unfairness of it all, this shitty industry that’s turned on her when all she ever wanted to do was make music.

she cries in the car back to her apartment to pack her things. there’s no way he’s letting her go home to iowa or idaho or indiana without him, and he barks at his team over the phone until they agree to move his appearances around so he can make that happen, his free hand clasped tightly in hers until he physically has to let her go so she can unlock her front door with trembling fingers.

cadence tosses clothes haphazardly onto the bed and he silently and precisely moves to folds each piece for her, until she gives up and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, defeated. 

wide eyes filled with tears lock onto his, and he watches her bottom lip wobble before she says, “you really don’t have to do this. come with me, i mean. i know i messed up, and -- you have so much else going on. i don’t expect you to --”

“i’m coming,” he states firmly, setting the sweatpants in his hand down and stepping closer to her, sitting beside cadence on her bed. “what happened tonight was fucked up, cadence -- it shouldn’t have happened at all. i’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

“but --”

“but nothing,” he says, and before the words have even left his mouth she’s falling into his arms with a soft sound of gratitude, mashing her face into his chest as she sniffles.

“thank you,” cadence mumbles, sounding so unsure of herself it makes him wonder if she’s ever had anyone show up for her when it mattered most before, or if that’s yet another thing they unfortunately have in common. 

xviii.

raleigh tries his best to cheer her up, but it’s still hard, feeling like she’s let the entire world down. her fans. herself.

there’s something embarrassing about showing raleigh her apartment back home and the person she was before she met him -- all the places she felt most uncertain and where she experienced some her worst self-doubt, the room that still has the smoothie star apron hung up in the closet.

but there’s also something exciting, about being totally off the grid with him. no one knows they’re here and there’s no paparazzi waiting to snap photos of them -- especially given the fact that they don’t leave her building for the first three days she spends moping around while raleigh orders all the takeout he can get his hands on.

it sort of reminds her of when they first met, and there was nothing to do but learn about each other, though now there’s a familiarity to him she relies on, a unique raleigh-ness that feels more like home than this shitty apartment ever did.

still, she struggles, and the weight of the world doesn’t let up until zadie shows up with her fanmail and avery does his best to make her smile with a beach trip and some fancy new toys and a day in the sun with a drink in her hand.

eventually it’s just her and raleigh again, out by the fire after everyone else has gone to bed. her stomach is full of s’mores and her cheeks hurt from smiling for the first time in weeks, and it’s a shock when she realizes she feels content, even after everything that’s happened -- almost as though things will all work out for the better no matter what happens next.

“oh my god,” she gasps suddenly, cutting off what raleigh had been saying as her eyes light up and she hastens to stand. “i’ve gotta -- i need to -- oh my god.”

just like that, she knows how her song ends.

recording it is a process, but raleigh calls in some favors and gets them studio time and agrees to be featured on the song even though she knows he’s still working through a sound change that he feels unsure about.

but it means a lot to her, having him crammed in the booth at her side, singing into the same mic. they sound almost unbelievably good together, too, raleigh’s harmonies on the words that finally resolve that lost feeling she’s been harboring her entire life making something deep within her wriggle up happily, wagging its proverbial tail.

the fact that raleigh remains by her side throughout the entire fight with her label, the long nights of despair agonizing over what her next move is going to be and even the moment where they decide to break into indio, of all places, means more to her than she can ever say. she feels markedly less nervous about the entire thing every time she turns her head to the side and sees him, right there next to her -- right where he’s been this entire time -- smiling encouragingly and squeezing her hand hard in his.

though it’s not until they’re up at the top of the ferris wheel that she realizes how precious what she has really is. it’s not until he looks her dead in the eye and says, with that same soft earnestness he’s awarded her since they first met at the one in a million auditions that feel quite literally like a hundred years ago, “cadence, everything you want is on the other side of fear. and i want you to have everything you want,” that she truly understands that’s what between them is special and rare.

not because of any tattoos, or any preconceived destiny. not because of who they are and their status and the fact that people take pictures of them when they’re out in public together.

but because of this -- all these real moments of genuine connection they’ve been fortunate enough to share since fate threw them into each other’s paths.

“raleigh, i love you.” the words are said easily, not a moment’s hesitation behind them. 

just before she crosses over in the cart to kiss him until they’re both breathless, raleigh gifts her the brightest smile he has and says, “i love you, too.”

xix.

the night is a blur from the moment he first takes the stage with his old bandmates to when he finally finds himself alone with cadence in a rundown old motel a few miles out from the festival in the desert.

he can’t recall ever being so happy, so of course he doesn’t remember every agonizing detail of the evening, though he does know he doesn’t feel the need to have a single beer with cadence around, twirling barefoot in the grass and giggling when she leads him up to the room they’ve borrowed.

afterwards, when they’re sitting on the roof together in the blanket they dragged off the bed, he reflects on the wild year they’ve had with her in his arms, fingertips tracing the delicate very funny scrawled across cadence’s collarbone.

he feels... free. completely liberated. like there’s absolutely nothing and no one that can get to him, now, like he’s untouchable, like he doesn’t care about a single thing that happens after today and how perfect things have been. 

“i think i’m actually freer than i’ve ever been,” he muses, where his lips are pressed into her hair, “i can take my sound in any direction i want.”

“i’m so happy for you, raleigh,” cadence returns genuinely, tilting her head back so he can see her upside-down smile. 

his arms tighten around her. “i’m so excited for what you’re gonna be doing, too. i’m excited for us.”

“yeah,” she sighs, “who knows what’s next, right? now that ellis let me out of my deal...”

he can hear the thread of worry undercutting the words. he shakes his head, hands rubbing up and down her arms. “you can worry about that tomorrow. for tonight, just enjoy the comeback. what you did out there was amazing.”

“what we did,” she corrects, and he blinks up the stars as he realizes she’s right -- they’re a we now. he’s part of a we again, after being on his own for so long.

the phrases bounce around in his head, unfamiliar and foreign. me and my girlfriend, he thinks to himself, cadence and i. we’re going to be late. we’ll be away that weekend. we just started watching that show. we, we, we. 

“what we did was amazing,” raleigh amends, the words slow to come out but feeling right all the same. “whatever we do next will be amazing.”

“absolutely,” cadence confirms, with conviction, like it’s something she believes wholeheartedly.

and though he has no idea what to expect or what it might be, a large part of him is inclined to agree with her -- she’s been right about everything else so far.

xx.

one year later, she’s finishing a set in berlin, the last stop on a sprawling european tour that had taken she, avery, micah and raleigh across the continent for dozens of performances to sold-out crowds of thousands screaming her lyrics back to her. 

if her contract with overknight had been a dream come true, signing to wilshere records is heaven incarnate. cadence’s trip through the u.k. with her new label is proof enough, and the chance to meet new fans with new stories to share that she could connect with is one she’s taken to with enthusiasm, the experience made all the sweeter by the fact that her favorite people get to be by her side throughout it all.

berlin’s crowd is one of the best, and she fully expects to end the tour on a high note, head banging to the last few notes of ‘knockout’ before raleigh’s planned entrance for the last song of the night, so they can sing the duet that’s closed out every show they’ve had on the tour together. 

when he struts out with his guitar, waving and grinning at the crowd, she can’t stop herself from smiling stupidly at him, just like she does every time she sees him join her on stage, every time she realizes that this is their life, that this is something they do every night, now.

though her grin falters when raleigh pauses in front of his microphone and asks, “berlin, do you mind if i talk a little bit before i start the song? no? cool, because i’ve got an important question to ask.”

her eyes widen. cadence’s mouth drops open and doesn’t close throughout the entire speech raleigh gives her, even though thousands of people in the crowd are filming every moment of her gaping like an idiot, snapping close-ups of her shocked face.

the arena practically vibrates with screams when he drops to his knee, popping the box in his hand open so she can see the giant diamond ring nestled inside of it. 

“so?” raleigh asks, and cadence can just barely hear him in her in-ears with the way her heart is beating frantically up into her throat, as wild as the crowd’s raging around them and then some. “whaddya say, babe? will you marry me?”

as if the answer could ever be anything but yes. she nods, laughing as she launches herself into his arm for a kiss that’s too grand to be given on stage, though that’s hardly going to stop her -- not tonight, at least. tonight, she’s okay with the whole world watching their every move, just one more time.

“oh, i don’t know if it’s going to fit,” raleigh jokes as the ring slides easily onto her left hand, amping up the theatrics for the fans still watching them avidly, even up in the cheap seats.

cadence rolls her eyes playfully at him. “very funny,” she praises, and the grin he offers her in return is so loving -- so knowing, with the secret that only the two of them share and every weird piece of their history included in it -- that it takes everything she has to shove him away so they can perform instead of dragging him down to the floor to kiss him over and over again.

clumsily, she flubs a few notes of love who i’ll be on her guitar. from across the stage, between the bridge and the chorus, raleigh jeers, “someone hasn’t learned to play with the extra weight on their left hand, yet, i see,” and when she flips him off while belting out the last lines of the verse, his raucous laughter is all the harmony the final few bars of the song needs. 

[flying-nightwing]

Double Cross (Jason Todd)

Hi people! So this is my little project I was talking about. A sudden blurb of inspiration led me to this and uh. Here it is! Once again, this is super experimental so yeah idk about its potential. You’ll be the judge of that I guess

This time I worked on time jumps back and forth and perspectives, so let me know how it turned out!

Masterlist in bio/pinned!

Pairing: Jason Todd x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 6937

Warnings: swearing, uhhh idk it’s dc so you know what you’re into 

-- 36 hours ago --

Your heart was beating hard against your ribcage as you flew down Washington DC's streets. Your motorcycle was burning under you, and you had a feeling you were on the clock to get off of this ticking time bomb before it exploded and brought you down with it. The bullet holes broke the black paint, decorating your bike in a way that flagged unwanted attention. About six blocks ago, unmarked cars had joined your fast paced parade across the city.

A terrible mistake, all of this was. That was certain. 

You took a sharp right, your knee scraping on the asphalt on the way. An infernal noise came out of your bike, but you still willed it to accelerate on the straight alley. You shot back on the main roads like a bullet, swerving around the black police car that had tried to cut you off. But soon enough, you saw the blockade on the street in front of you. You could never jump it with your bike so in disarray, and there were no viable alleys to sneak into. You shut your eyes tight for a moment, then exhaled.

"I'm sorry Jason" You muttered to yourself. "But you left me no choice"

With a firm grip, you pressed the brakes and came to a stop a fair distance from the blockade. You turned off your bike and kicked the foot to hold it up, slowly getting off and pulling your hands up. Shouts erupted around you as the police mobilised themselves in tight formations, guns up and ready to shoot. With one hand up, you undid your tinted black helmet and let it fall to the ground. 

"On your knees!" An officer shouted as he approached. "Keep your hands where I can see them"

You complied.

-- Now --

The white of the neons glaring down on you made your already tired eyes hurt, saturating your vision with a harsh and constant flash of light. You were left alone with a room temperature glass of water on your left and your own reflection on your right. You couldn’t hear them, but you knew they were there, observing you. Instead, all you could see was the dark bags under your eyes and your messy greasy hair. 

You perked up when two men in suits came in by the door in front of you, thin files in their hands and calculating glances. They were nicely dressed, one with a gray suit and the other, black. Both suits were obviously tailored to them. They sat down in front of you and observed you before the one in the gray suit spoke. Dark hair, blue eyes, taller than the other, maybe around six feet.

“Good morning, Agent”

You only nodded, looking down to the table. 

“My name is Agent Baker,” He said. “My colleague here is Agent Tanev. We will proceed to your debriefing”

“Sure” You nodded again.

Agent Baker set a recording device on the desk and turned it on. “Please tell us again why you are here today”

“I am--” You paused, clearing your throat. “I am here today to deliver crucial information on a wanted criminal in exchange for a pardon” 

“Which wanted criminal should that be?”

“The Red Hood” You said, meeting his eyes. “I have names of associates, safe houses locations, frequent territories of operation as well as his specific m.o.”

“How come you know all of this?” He asked, his voice neutral. “No seasoned agent has ever managed to get this close to him, let alone a rookie. We want to know how you gained his trust, start from the beginning, spare no details. Leave nothing out”

“I met the Red Hood during operation 7381 in northern Lithuania” You began as Agent Tanev started to take notes. “I was in the back up team for the extraction of General Kradiev from a local opposant group. I wasn’t supposed to even see action, as it should have been simple enough against an untrained mob, but when is it ever…”

They had known you were coming. A whole grab and go operation had been compromised by the feeling of invincibility of the CIA, that looked down so much on whoever they went against that they never stopped to think that maybe--maybe--they were prepared.

So when the Alpha team stormed the country house where the General was supposed to be kept and found it empty, all action plans were thrown out the window. The Beta team was mobilised to close off all the roads surrounding the area and to search for the hostage. You were ordered to search a single decaying house in between two pine trees because the structure was so old, so  nobody could have ever been hiding in its debris. However, as you were leaving, you heard whimpers coming from the cellar a few feet away from the foundations. Carefully, you made your way to the wooden doors on the ground, and after making sure your magazine was full and the safe of your semi automatic off, you kicked the doors open and raced down the stairs.

“Don’t move or I’ll blow your head off” You yelled, pointing your gun at the first person you saw. It was clearly a man, wearing a bright red helmet that shone under the single lightbulb hanging down from the ceiling. He slowly held up his hands, but he didn’t seem so bothered. Your eyes found another man next, tied to a chair and wearing a bag on his head. The military uniform was a dead giveaway of his identity, so you returned your full attention to the red helmet guy. “You’re going to back up and face the wall now”

“Or what?” He challenged. “You’ll ‘blow my head off’?”

“Shut up!” You barked, taking a step forward. Your firearm was ready to shoot. “Do as I fucking say”

“You’re CIA uh?” He changed the subject, looking down at your marked bulletproof vest and not listening to you. In fact, he didn’t seem worried at all by the situation he was in. “Should have known. You guys have never cared who lived or died. What fucking difference does it make, as long as they’re good pals with the good ol’ US of A right?”

“God would you just fucking shut up and back up” You were getting impatient, but also nervous. You were alone without backup, with a guy in a red helmet who was clearly taunting you, and you had never shot anyone before. It was your first oversea mission, and already it was fucking catastrophic.

“See, that’s the thing” He held a finger up. “You’re pointing a gun at me like I’m the bad guy, while you are trying to rescue the scum of humanity. You’re going to extract him, give him a nice long life on Florida’s golf courses with the taxpayers' money and wipe out from History the mass graves in the woods two miles away”

You remained silent.

“Oh, did you not know about the mass graves?” He asked rhetorically in a mocking tone. “Your friend here decided he wanted to test the new shipment of automatic weapons, because their bullets per minute capacity had been expanded. And what better targets than the group of students that opposed the american military presence in the country? The youngest was 16 and her name was Vera Beliskava. Isn’t that right, Kradiev?”

He pulled the hood from the general to reveal his bloodied and bruised face. He had been gagged and beaten, that was obvious. He looked at you, pleading. 

“You’re the only one who saw” The man in red said, softer this time. “You don’t have to save that piece of trash. Just say your search came up empty and I’ll make him disappear from the Earth's face permanently without leaving so much as a trace. Nobody else will know, and you will go to sleep knowing you made the world a better place”

You took a breath, a million thoughts running into your head. Who was that guy? Why was he here? Why did he not attack you, while he clearly had a handgun strapped on his thigh? Could he be right about Kradiev? You knew he didn’t have the cleanest record concerning human rights, but mass graves? 

“Beta team, report”

You both froze as your comm broke the silence. He gave you a challenging look as you were still debating. You wanted to do good, that’s why you went into the secret services. Being complicit in mass murder wasn’t something you signed up on. 

“Nothing to report on the north road”

“Clear in the valley”

“Farmer’s house empty”

“No traffic on the south road”

You knew it was your turn now. Slowly, you reached for your comm, not breaking eye contact.

“Pinetree house’s clear” You spoke in a flat line, decided and direct as you lowered your gun. You shut down your comm and glanced at Kradiev, whose relief morphed into fear once again as your decision registered. You averted your eyes. 

“You made the right choice”

“I hope so, or I’m dead” You mumbled. “I’m going back now. Don’t make me regret my decision”

“You won’t”

“So just to be clear,” Agent Baker frowned. “You just… Believed him? And you let General Kradiev in his hands?”

“When I left, I went to check, and the graves were there. Kradiev was guilty”

“That was not your decision to make” He pointed out.

“I know” You sighed. “That was my first mistake. I-- I lost it for a moment. He mentioned the graves and the victims and there were so many people the same age as them I could think about and I decided with my feelings rather than my judgement. And I’m paying the price today”

“Alright” He mumbled, passing a hand on his face like he was already done with this debriefing. “When did you cross paths with him again?”

“We were back in America” You continued. “By that time, I was no longer on training wheels. It was a little more than a year later, in Newport Oregon during operation 9004. We were busting a trans pacific drug dealer on the docks when we got unexpected company…”

You were running as well as you could through the maze of freight containers on the docks, trying to push back the pain of the bullet in your leg. You had drawn the fire of the hired gang so your colleagues could proceed, but things went down the drain when you were met with heavier fire than the briefing stated. Outnumbered and outran, you stopped in your tracks and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You wouldn’t go out as a coward, that was certain. If you went down, you’d take as many of them as you could with you. 

You reopened your eyes and checked the magazine of your gun, letting it drop on the ground and pushing a full one in. You loaded and clicked the safe off, flexing your fingers on the handle as footsteps surrounded you. You spun around and pulled the trigger, but before the bullet even reached your target, two men dropped on his side. 

You weren’t the only shooter. 

Thinking it was backup from your team, you allowed yourself to back up against a container, trying to stop the bleeding. You were starting to feel light headed, but you still had a bit more fight in you. Soon enough, all hostiles were down, and you were in for a surprise. Instead of the black uniform of your colleagues, you looked up to a red bat, a leather jacket and a familiar red helmet. You squinted your eyes and let out a chuckle of disbelief.

“Do I even wanna know?” You asked.

“I owed you one” He shrugged. “You okay?”

You looked down to your leg, your pants soaked in blood that was already cooling, then back up again. “Peachy” You gave him a thumbs up. “You were right about Kradiev. He was a fucking trash bag”

“It’s often the case” He said as he rested his hands on his hips. 

“You here for Hiko?”

“Yep” He nodded, then snorted derisively. “Any tips?”

Ever since Kradiev, you have developed a habit of researching your target better. Most of the time, it was a capture or an execution on site, so it didn’t matter the extent of their crimes. But there were moments when you were extracting the package without knowing what came next, and those times usually meant they’ll make them disappear under a new identity, without giving them any repercussion for their actions. This one, Hiko, was the later case, without any plan revealed for when you get him back. He was a known drug trafficker, but he was also rumored to smuggle people back and forth between Asia and North America through the docks he owned. The Red Hood’s appearance was well timed, to say the least. 

“Sneak past the squad through the east” You panted. “If you can move on top of the containers without being seen or heard, you’ll cut them off with about two minutes to spare. Make sure you’re gone with Hiko when they bust through the door, or neither of us will ever find him again”

He paused, studying you. “Thanks…” He trailed off. “Why are you telling me this again?”

“Well, you said it yourself” You managed to smirk. “If I can go to sleep knowing I made the world a better place”

He didn’t answer with anything else but a quick nod before he climbed the containers and disappeared from your field of vision. You sighed, then reached for your comm. “Alpha 003 to central, I’m down and need medical attention, Northwest entry of the docks”

“So if I understand correctly, not only you let him go again,” Baker exhaled, looking bewildered. “But you told him how to get there first? You realize those are becoming serious crimes right?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t” You snapped, before recomposing yourself. Both agents had backed away just a little at your outburst. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Sorry. I’m just tired, it’s been a crazy last two days” 

“Did he offer you any medical help then?” Baker returned on topic. 

“No, I called the medics and I was extracted with the chopper” You replied. “I knew he was there for Hiko, not for me. It was a coincidence we crossed paths, and at that point I thought it was the last time I’d see him. I mean, what are the chances, right? But you see, that here was my second mistake”

“How so?”

“The CIA goes after threats to national security, but so does he, in his own way” You said, locking eyes with Baker. “The guy’s everywhere, even where we don’t go. And he’s at least three steps ahead of us at any turn. He has good funds, good intel and exceptional skills. You don’t find him, he finds you. And that’s what he did”

“He contacted you after the affair on the docks?” He raised an eyebrow.

“We could say that...”

You finished washing your tea cup when you heard a thud coming in from your living room. Slowly, you grabbed the gun hidden in your cupboard and held it up, quietly making your way to the next room. You rounded the corner and pointed your gun to the man standing with his back to you, registering his identity as he turned around. You must have been a sight in your baby pink pajama shorts and mismatching turquoise tank top, pointing your handgun to a man in a shiny red helmet. 

You scoffed and lowered your gun, clicking the safe back on and putting the firearm on the lamp table. “Breaking and entering, really?”

“Wouldn’t be the worst crime I’ve committed” He shrugged, and you could just imagine him rolling his eyes, whoever he was under that helmet. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, crossing your arms against your chest. “How did you find me?”

“Like I find anyone” He answered like it was the simplest of evidence. You waited for him to continue, but he seemed to have no intention to reveal his methods. This time, you rolled your eyes. “And I’m here because I wanted to check on your leg”

“No you’re not” You snorted. He would have come months ago if it was about that, and even then, the little you knew about him told you he was not the kind to just check upon people who didn’t mean anything to him. “But I’m doing fine, thanks”

“You’re welcome” He nodded. “And you’re right. I need something from you”

“Well, go ahead, since you’re already in” You gestured at him to go on.

“Wait wait wait” Baker held his hand up. “He broke into your house and you just let him? You put your gun down and didn’t call anyone?”

“Yeah, that’s what I just said” You replied slowly. 

“And it never occured to you that he was dangerous?”

You paused, thinking your answer over. “No, it didn’t. I mean, if he wanted to get rid of me, he would have done it on the docks where I was an easy target”

“Fair point” Tanev muttered under his breath, earning him a glare from Baker. 

“Now do you want to know what happened or not?” You said, annoyed at the interruption.

“Please, go ahead”

He reached inside his jacket and handed you a file. You took it and opened it, staring at the picture and the description beside it. “This is Ian Markstrom, he has been suspected to kidnap young women, mostly tourists, to sell them on the sex trafficking market” He began. “Not only is he friends with your big bosses, but those who were brave enough to try and get him locked up never got anything to stick, and that was the best case scenario. The others either disappeared or ended up dead, so I’m assuming someone in this government does not want Markstrom to stop”

You nodded. “What can I do for you?”

“There’s a secret auction strictly reserved for the elite, Markstrom will sell his best teenagers there” He explained, a hint of disgust in his voice. “The CIA chief of operation received an invitation. I want to know what it says on the card”

“I’m not sure I’m good enough to reach anywhere near it” You mumbled. “But sure, I’ll try”

“No, I believe in you” He said, and he seemed pretty sure of himself. You raised an eyebrow to hide your surprise at his compliment. “What I’m wondering though, is why you’re not asking questions”

“Well, you are two in two so far about targeting the bad guy” You said after a moment. “You seem qualified to spot ‘em, and you’d be real twisted to to make up that scenario for a petty revenge, so I’m guessing you’re on the mark again”

“Huh. You might just be the only smart CIA agent I’ve ever met”

You snorted. “Well, the more it goes the more I’m questioning the integrity of my employer”

“You keep impressing me” 

“With what I saw, I believe the bar was pretty low to start with”

“Keep talking like this and I might need a cold shower”

“You’re an ass, you know that?” 

He let out a short bark of laughter. “If only you knew”

“I’ll do my best for the invitation” You brought him back on topic, closing the file and putting it beside your handgun. “How can I contact you if I get it?”

He paused, then took a step forward and grabbed your wrist. He fetched a pen from his jacket and wrote a number. “This is a burner phone, which I will destroy after this whole deal. Don’t try and trace me with that, it won’t end well for you”

“Yeah yeah” You rolled your eyes, pulling back your arm when he was done. You cleared your throat, trying to ignore his overwhelming proximity. “I gave you two fast passes just to trick you into seeking my help to finally bag you, I’m busted”

“Hey, listen” He backed up, holding his hand in surrender. “I make that threat to everyone. It’s only a disclosure thing, I didn’t doubt your motivation”

“To each their own I guess” You shrugged. “Alright. If this is all, please get out of my apartment”

“Oop, sure”

Baker blinked slowly. “And did you? Communicate him the details?”

“Yeah” You nodded. “I managed to get into the chief of operation’s office, break into his safe, memorize the date, time and place of the auction and communicate it to Red”

“Red?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Short for Red Hood” Tanev clarified, and judging by yet another glare from Baker, he wouldn’t speak anytime soon.  

“He kept it on the quiet, but after that the chief of operation did seem a changed man” You smirked, before dropping it instantly. “And I didn’t hear anything from Markstrom, it was like he disappeared for good, which he most likely did. So I guess the Red Hood succeeded in taking him down”

“Jesus Christ” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Why do I have the feeling it wasn’t the last law you broke?”

“Because it wasn’t”

“Are you going to make a habit out of dropping out of nowhere to ask me for favors?”

This time, you knew who had broken into your property without even looking. You put the keys into your car and turned the engine on, trying to warm yourself. The Red Hood pulled himself upright from your backseat, shaking his head.

“Your car is very comfortable,” He declared. “You have good taste”

“So that means yes”

“Back at it again with your superior deduction skills” 

“What do you want?” You went straight to the point, but you were just a little amused. You could have a worst stalker. 

“I’ve been thinking this through,” He began, moved his legs so he was properly seated on the backseat. “You are skilled and you’ve got balls of steel. I could use your help more often. A partnership, if you might”

“Why do I have the feeling it took a lot to admit that and reach out?” 

“Because I don’t just trust people” He said plainly. “They disappoint me, among other things”

“So why me?”

“Like I said, skills and balls of steel” He repeated. “You went against the fucking CIA not once, not twice but thrice to do the right thing. That’s enough of a test of will for me. And besides, your job would be an advantage that is hard to turn away”

“Makes sense” You mumbled as you put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. He buckled his belt like it was a reflex. “Will this partnership imply me shooting bad guys?”

“If that’s what you wish for” He shrugged, leaning forward in the space between the two front seats. “I won’t be the one to limit you”

“Okay, yeah” You nodded. “Where do we start?”

Baker was looking into nothing, processing your words. He shook his head slowly in disbelief before he met your glance. “I shouldn’t be surprised” He spoke after a moment. “But this is Everest high levels of stupid”

“At that time it did seem like a good idea” 

“Yeah, might as well jump off of a bridge…” He trailed off, eying you suspiciously. “Did you do that too?”

“Well, if we consider the time when--”

“You know what, don’t tell me” He cut you off. “Please go on”

“Alright” You held your hands up in surrender. “So, where was I?”

You and the Red Hood operated on the field like a well oiled machine. Your expertise and contacts with the CIA helped him get into places way more easily than alone, and your somewhat reckless ways were compatible with his mode of operation. You knew who he was as well, you found out after he nonchalantly took off his helmet after a stakeout. You had not been prepared for what you saw then, when you were faced with what you could qualify with the most beautiful man you had ever seen. 

“Hey, you okay?” He waved a hand in your face, making you snap out your daze. You blinked a few times, shaking it off.

“Yeah” You replied. “I just wasn’t expecting this”

“Expecting what?”

“I mean, the helmet did give disfiguration vibes… Obviously I was wrong” 

“So you think I’m hot then?” He snorted derisively.

“I do” 

His head did a whiplash. “Huh?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable” You backed away. “Sometimes my filter doesn’t work”

“No it’s--” He tried to find his words, then sighed. “I’m just not used to that, I guess”

“What’s the point of this?” Baker groaned, his head in his hands. 

“It’s a turning point that brought me here today” You explained, turning your palm up briefly. “You asked for details, I’m giving you details”

“I kinda wanna know what went down, to be honest” Tanev added sheepishly.

“Tanev, I’m going to drive you through the mirror if you do not shut up”

“Jeez sorry” He mumbled.

“As I was saying”

That day was the moment things changed in your relationship. There was this tension that hadn’t been there before, the little brushes of hands when you were side by side, the staring at the other while they weren’t looking, the unspoken invitations to stay a moment longer after a mission for a cigarette and a good conversation. He was one of a kind, you had to give that to him. He was passionate, driven, smart in a way that told you he never really had it easy but always made it work somehow; the way he always thought of the less obvious way to do things, how even his messes seemed calculated. 

It was raining in Chicago and the air was crisp. Your muscles ached from the fight in that warehouse against drug lords that enrolled kids in their schemes, that and from the unforgiving cold of January. You had one too many whiskeys back in that little studio flat he rented under a false name, and it led you straight to his bed. Trying to find warmth, trying to find a connection, it didn’t matter why, as long as you were as close as humanly possible to him. 

And it didn’t stop there. The night after, and the night after that, always in his company past the business hours. Your chemistry translated way beyond the field, for you found him in a partner in more ways than one. You grew quickly to feel love for him, more than you had ever felt for anyone. The number of times you woke up naked and tangled with him--

“Okay I don’t need to know this-- I do NOT need to know this” Baker yelled. If he could have flipped shit from the table, you’re sure he would have. 

“You told me to spare no details!” You argued. “This is a detail. I’m being as thorough as I can”

“You know what-- Forget it” He brushed his hand in the air aggressively. “Just get to the part we have interest in, for God’s sake please just skip to that”

“Okay, okay” You muttered, rolled your eyes. “It went well for the first months or so, it was great. Nothing to say on that front, I was happy and fulfilled in this new englobing partnership we had going on. That was my third mistake, to get into that kind of involvement with him. Because then, like all good things must come to an end, mine slowly began crumbling down in my hands”

“Okay” He sighed, half in relief. “Tell me more about that”

“Well, he started to show his true colors” You admitted, pulling your hands under the table. “Sometimes, he became something else. Something dark. And sometimes became most of the time, but I was too in love to see it. He became manipulative, controlling. He was everywhere, in everything I did. It’s like I didn’t even have control on my life anymore…”

“Where do you wanna eat?”

You looked away from the car window, your feet comfortably up on the dash. You took a deep breath and shrugged. “Dunno, where do you wanna eat?”

“Don’t really care” He shrugged too. “You decide”

“What about chipotle?”

“Sure” He nodded. “Chipotle sounds good”

Tanev shook his head sympathetically. “He wouldn’t even let you choose a restaurant?”

“Never” You looked down, sadness weighing your voice. 

“I’m so sorry you had to live through that”

“Thank you” 

“Alright, moving on” Baker broke the moment. “What happened next?”

“Next? Next came what comes every time in screwed up relationships” You answered, returning your hands on the table and crossing your fingers. “We burned like a meteorite as it tears through the atmosphere, falling to our demise to high velocity and taking everything in our wake”

“That was poetic” He pointed out sarcastically. “What the fuck does it mean?”

You raised an eyebrow. “We got dangerous for real, Agent Baker” You paused to take a reserved sip of the water. “If you thought I was reckless before, you’ll need to reevaluate your scale. I was in for real. I was his battle horse, his wildcard, his whatever that he needed to succeed. And I was good at it. The worst was, I didn’t even realize he used me as a smoke screen. He put me more and more often in fucked up situations that were way more dangerous for me than him, and I was naive enough to think it was love”

“No. This is not up for discussion”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You said you would let me choose--”

“I said I would let you choose, not let yourself get killed” He interrupted, slightly raising his voice. “This plan of yours is stupid dangerous. If it backfires, you are almost guaranteed of not making it out free, or alive for that matter. I’m not allowing you to take that risk. Not for me.”

“Again, ‘if’ being the keyword” You insisted, following him as he stomped out of the storage room. “I am capable of executing it flawlessly. I know I am, you’ve always told me I am”

He halted his steps, hesitantly turning to face you. His eyes softened as he sighed, taking your hand. “I know you can, it’s not about that” His voice was back down, even lower than his usual volume. “I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you for something I dragged you into in the first place, I would never forgive myself”

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead on his. “Okay” You finally said, nodding lightly. “We’ll find another way. Another plan. But we’re hitting that ball out of the park either way, I won’t let Preston get away with it”

He smiled. “Oh no, we won't indeed” He kissed the top of your head. “We’ll get him one way or another, I promise”

“I almost feel sorry for you now, Agent” Baker gulped. “I cannot begin to imagine what terrible things the Red Hood forced you to do under his manipulation. We however must continue this debriefing”

“Of course” You nodded quickly, breathing deeply. “So we planned our next move, but he wouldn’t tell me the final target. I found it weird, he always told me the targets. I don’t know, maybe he sensed I was trying to find a way out”

“And that plan was…”

“Yes” You didn’t have to let him finish his trailing thoughts, you knew what he was getting at. “So this brings us to 36 hours ago”

“Be as thorough as you can” 

“So the Red Hood gave me those instructions to follow” You began. “I was to draw the attention of the authorities to me in a city wide chase. Now, I am rather good with a bike, that I won’t hide, but outrunning police and secret services? That was impossible. I still don’t know how they got there, but it saved me. He would have never dared to come into the melee to get me back, and risk getting caught”

“Was he not afraid you’d talk to us?” Baker asked. “That was a pretty big gamble”

“He thought I wouldn’t talk I guess, probably for the same reasons I stayed with him for all this time” You said, biting the inside of your cheek until it bled. You hated to think about these words. “Because I believed I loved him”

“I guess that wouldn’t be too far fetched” He hummed. “Wouldn’t be the first time we saw it happen”

You nodded, remaining silent. Baker made eye contact with Tanev, then looked into the reflecting glass. He took a deep breath and returned his attention to you. 

“We are going to get you back to the holding cell while we process this information” He said. “But once we do that, you’ll be free, and with a new identity if you wish, as your agreement states”

“Thank you” 

“Just one more thing before we wrap this debriefing” He leaned forward. “You must know his name"

“Of course” 

“Then what is it?” He asked. “What is the Red Hood’s name?”

You looked down, taking a deep breath, then back again, locking eyes with Baker. Then, you spoke. 

-- 36 hours later --

The sunset over the valley was gorgeous. The mixes of pink and orange on the yellowed sky was straight out of a fantasy world, and Jason couldn’t help but appreciate the scenery. It was soothing, like it could swallow up his anxiety at least for a minute or two. He leaned on the wooden ramp, the sightseeing roadside station seeming not so cheesy at the moment.

He only tore his eyes from the burning sun when he heard a motorcycle approach from behind. He pushed himself off the ramp and faced the sleek black bike--the lack of use on it showing him it was brand new--then, the driver with a black tinted visor. 

You took off your helmet and smiled at Jason’s stern expression, whose eyes showed relief anyway. You turned off your bike and parked it, then got off and walked to him. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” 

You walked past him and leaned on the ramp he had been on moments ago, and he joined you. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered you one. He lit up both with his lighter, and you took a long draft before speaking. 

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice” You smirked, bumping your shoulder to his. “I did save your sweet ass, after all”

“I thought we agreed not to do that” He glanced at you sideways. His annoyance was also mixed with playful disbelief, like he both wanted to throw you off the cliff you were admiring the view from and do celebratory shots with you. 

“We did” You nodded, chuckling. “But circumstances changed. You weren’t out by the time I reached the monument, so I had to draw them away from you, or we would not be having this conversation. ”

“Still” He tilted his head to the side, before his head snapped in your direction. “Wait, did you call the secret services after yourself?”

You shrugged half heartedly. “Mayhaps” Your lips curved upward, while he shook his head. “I mean, it kinda was my fault too. I misplaced the bomb and it barely detonated. I had to flip to plan B, then they shot my bike. They had me surrounded, and my it was running low on life, so I skipped directly to plan fuck this”

“So you gave yourself up”

"Played the victim, pretended I wanted to exchange information on you for my freedom” You sighed, taking a drag of your cigarette. “None of which was relevant enough for them to even get close to you, worry not”

“They must have asked for a name” He hummed, now turning his full body toward you. “What did you tell them?”

“My grandpa’s name” You snorted. “He died two decades ago. Let me tell you, when they found out the last update on him was in the necrology of the 2001 Sunday paper, they were not happy campers”

“Then how did you get out?” He squinted his eyes.

“Oh, do not underestimate me, sweetheart” You grinned. “I’ve spent my whole career getting to know the buildings and the procedures for people like me. It was a piece of cake”

You were escorted out the interrogation room and into the small, yet cozy holding cell. You were on the clock, because the lies you’ve slipped into your story would unravel pretty quickly once they discovered that the name you gave them was a farce. Then, you wouldn’t be put in a minimal security room, but probably somewhere way less fun. 

“Hey wait” You called after the guard before he could close the cell door behind you. He paused his actions, waiting for you to speak up. “This wasn’t there last time”

He frowned and took a few steps into the cell, trying to spot over your shoulder whatever you were talking about. When he didn’t see it, he got closer and closer until he was all the way into the cell. “What wasn’t there before?” He asked, annoyed. 

You smiled. “You” 

With a quick jab of your elbow behind his head, he fell down unconscious on the floor. You grabbed his keycard and exited the cell, locking the guard in. You winked at the camera on the upper left corner of the hallway and made your way down to the garages as the alarms blared through the whole building. That meant it entered lockdown, closing all the escape routes. But you had your own fool proof plan.

Agent Baker began swearing when the hallway was plunged into the red glow of the lockdown alert. It hadn’t taken long for him to figure out you had led them in circles, and he had appeared a fool in front of his colleagues when he proudly revealed the name of a long deceased old man instead of anything tangible. He had been on his way to your cell when he realized the depth of this foolery, understanding you had been stalling them for this opportunity. 

“Sir, we are reporting engine noises in the garages”

“Fuck” Baker shouted, pushing the other man aside. Tanev was a step behind, his weapon drawn. They had stored your bike there, you must have gone back for it. “All units report to the garage, we’re having a break out. I repeat, all units to the garages”

They all flocked to the lower levels, ready to enforce the barrages at the doors and trap you with no exit. It was an excellent execution of emergency measures, but they definitely weren’t prepared for what came next. As they kicked the storage unit of your motorcycle, they came face to face with the bullet ridden bike with no driver in sight. Baker lowered his gun, squinting his eyes. Then, they widened comically as the dark smoke coming out of it and the strong smell of gasoline registered in his brain.

“Motherfucker” He spat. “Everybody out!” 

Seconds later, it exploded.

“You’re unbelievable” Jason scoffed, shaking his head. However, he now had a full blown grin to match yours. “I gotta give it to you though, blowing up your bike as a distraction was smart. Balls of fucking steel”

“Of course it was!” You replied, then reached in your pocket for your phone. “And it’s not even the best part, look”

You unlocked your phone and passed it to him, showing him your most recent picture of the CIA’s chief of operation dead with a letter opener through his neck. His eyes widened. “You got Preston?”

You turned around from your position, now leaning back on the ramp with your elbows resting on it. “The bike opened a window big enough for me to get the target” You said, finishing your cigarette and disposing of it in the ash bin on your right. “And with all those idiots guarding an empty garage, t’was easy enough”

“After all this time, you’re still impressing me” He nodded, holding up his fist. “Good fucking job”

You bumped your fist sideway with his, laughing at his baffled expression. The sky was getting darker and darker by the minute, but the air was still warm. You could hear the crickets in the high grass, and the silence was a peaceful one. You could admit that you had cut it close this time, that this gamble could have very well turned to shit, so you just took a moment to let the pressure slip away from your muscles, at least for now. You had the time to smoke another cigarette before you spoke.

“So now what?” You hummed, looking up to the bright stars above your head. “Markstrom’s ring is no more, and I’m pretty sure I not only lost my job by pulling that stunt, but also bought myself a ticket on at least three intelligence services’ most wanted list”

“Well, that’s nothing a good ol’ fake death can’t fix” He shrugged. “But until we find the right moment for your tragic public demise, I’m sure we can manage to find on our own some domestic assholes to beat up. What do you say?”

You met eyes with him, then raised your eyebrows. “I say let’s get to it”

[mach-speed-spin]

My thoughts on some of the major changes made in the English dub

This will mainly cover the original series since besides some name changes the mfb and burst dubs have been pretty close to the Japanese version. The original series changed a lot though so here we go

Bit beasts

Original version: Very few can see bit beasts. Mostly it’s just bit beast wielders and a few others who have connections to them

Dub: Everyone can see bit beasts (except for the Saint Shields’ bit beasts who had the power of invisibility)

Opinion: The fact that bit beast users fight non users in tournaments feels kinda unfair. The dub doesn’t fix this completely but it makes it less bad. At least everyone knows they exist and it’s not like non users don’t know what they’re getting into

Ryuunosuke Kinomiya/ Ryu Granger

Original Version: Takao’s granfather is an upbeat but wise man. I don’t know Japanese but his dialogue doesn’t seem to be over the top

Dub: I need a compilation of all his lines. His very first line of dialogue is “Tyson! C’mon little dude, get your head into what you’re doing, capiche? Now get down and boogie.” Don’t believe me? Here is my source

Opinion: Ryuunosuke Kinomiya is likeable but overall not that memorable. Ryu Granger is amazing. Easily one of the best parts of the dub (which makes sense, as his VA was by far the most experienced at the time). Love it. Ryu Granger blasts Ryuunosuke Kinomiya out of the water with his radical swag

Dizzi

Original version: Dizzi doesn’t exist and most of her dialogue is Kyoujyu’s. It’s also more technical

Dub: Dizzi is a bit beast that inhabits a laptop. Her dialogue is mostly witty rather than technical

Opinion: Dizzi’s existence helps elaborate more on the idea that bit beasts inhabit objects that aren’t just beys. Dragoon was in a sword and Draciel was in a necklace, but they were there for around 1 episode after their introduction. Dizzi serves as a constant reminder of something the original version mentiones maybe twice. Her dialogue is a different story. I appreciate some of the quips, but I wish they kept the technical aspect of it (which is one thing mfb and burst did really well). If I had to choose between one or the other, I’d rather keep the technical dialogue over Dizzi

AJ Topper and Brad Best

Original version: Blader DJ serves as the referee and sole commentator

Dub: DJ Jazzman serves as the referee. The commentary is done by AJ Topper and Brad Best in a sport-channel like fashion

Opinion: Beyblade is a sport. AJ and Brad help give it more legitimacy as a sport. Plus their dialogue is amazing (I don’t mind it not being technical since the job of a commentator is different from that of an analyst)

Baihuzu/ White Tigers

Original version: No member of the clan had ever left the village and contact with outsiders was strictly forbidden. Rei basically commited treason

Dub: The White Tigers (the team, not the clan) were pissed at Ray for abandoning them and taking Driger, but he didn’t break any laws (other than unspoken ones)

Opinion: The fact that Baihuzu left the village in search of Rei (thus breaking tradition) showed how important Byakko was to them. The dub made it more personal. Less about Rei vs the clan and more about Ray vs Lee soecifically. I prefer the original version here except for 1 thing: Bruce. The fact that an outsider like Bruce was affiliated to Baihuzu doesn’t make much sense since they still avoided outsiders. The dub doesn’t have this issue. If Bruce was stated to be a member of the clan then the dub would have nothing on the original

All Starz bit beasts

Original version: They are normal bit beasts

Dub: They are artificial bit beasts

Opinion: The All Starz have no real conflict with the BBA in the original version (aside from Max’s mom). They’re dicks and that’s it, but unlike Euro Team, Baihuzu, or Borg, their is no ideological conflict. The dub doesn’t fix this entirely, but it’s less bad. It brings up the idea of humanity vs nature and that humans shouldn’t mess with ancient magic (which would be brought up again in 2002/ V-Force). It does however, create a plot hole in the next season. If the cyber bit beasts are unprecedented as Dr B says, then what happened to the All Starz? This is a plothole that can only be fixed by headcanons (my personal one is the the PPB bit beasts are like drones and aren’t fully sentient like the cyber bit beasts)

Team WHO/ Dark Bladers

Original version: Team WHO were some of the rare no bit beast users who were aware of their existence. Pissed at what they thought as unfair (they were right), they sell their souls and obtain bit beasts. Now they’re on a revenge quest to destroy all bit beasts. After the defeat of the Euro Team at the hands of the BBA, they kinda accept that they’re cursed and forgive the Euro Team

Dub: The Dark Bladers were non bit beast users who lost to the bladers that would later form the Majestics. They are cursed, losing their souls, but gaining bit beasts of their own. The 2 ways to break the curse are to have the Majestics defeated or steal all bit beasts. After the Majestics lose to the Bladebreakers, the curse is lifted, so they regain their souls and get to keep their bit beasts

Opinion: Team WHO’s arc was never resolved properly. This is because it couldn’t. They were right and the only way to resolve their arc was to have them win (or at least have bit beasts stop being used in tournaments). The Dark Bladers fix this by having their arc be about lifting the curse. Team WHO was a massive mistake from the anime staff (they weren’t in the manga) and the Dark Bladers were a stroke of genius from the dub

Music

Original version: The 2000 ost used a lot of brass intruments. Personally my favorite tracks were American Dream and Russia. I sadly couldn’t find the 2002 ost and I’ve only seen a few clips of the Japanese version but the ost seems to have shifted to being more rock based. I can’t describe it perfectly but every track seems to have a “tense” feeling. The G-Revolution ost is more upbeat. I only have a surface level knowledge of music genres but it seems to be mainly speed metal in the earlier tracks and shifting to more orchestral later. The earlier tracks remind me of Ron Wasserman’s work in Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers, with songs like Fight and I WIll Win

Dub: Insert songs that replace much of the battle music. The non battle music is also original, but fairly unremarkable. Tracks 15-25 of this playlist cover the insert songs (note: Hang On is a cover because the original version was never released)

Opinion: 2002 had the weakest ost of all. It’s not that it’s bad, but it’s horribly misused. If you have a battle that’s supposed to be fast paced action, don’t make the music tense. Make it energetic. 2000 has by far the best non battle music, but the battle music isn’t that great. It’s alright, but it’s not nearly as good as G-Revolution, which in turn had great battle music but ok non battle music. The English dub’s insert songs are pretty good but otherwise the ost is lacking.  I’d say G-Rev >= 2000 > dub >> 2002

Bonus: Robert’s dub dialogue

“You’re just talking trash” “Alas, I am talking to trash”

Conclusion

The dub wasn’t great overall. The voice acting was bad (that’s what you get for having the VAs be teenagers). However, the dub did fix some major issues with the original version (Team WHO in particular). The dub’s worst changes made thing go from great to ok and the best changes made things go from bad to good. Plus Ryu Granger exists so the dub automatically gets extra points

[greetings-from-azeroth]

I have been thinking about this a lot these past days and honestly this really stings to write.

I have come to the conclusion that once the 6 month subscription *trap* ends I am going to unsubscribe from World of Warcraft. This is particularly huge because I have not been unsubbed from WoW since I started playing in WoTLK. I have always had an active subscription because i loved the world of Azeroth. I loved the lore. I loved the races and their backstories. I loved the Arthas storyline. I loved Teldrassil where I started my journey into this world as a curious night elf.

I put so much money into this game because I believed in it. I wanted it to do good and flourish and be here for more people to enjoy in the future. I got the Chronicle book series, the WoTLK art book, strategy guides, magazines... I even got a figureprint of my first ever main character. I wore Horde logo tees and hoodies to proudly represent my faction. During Blizzcons I cheered for the Horde.

And what was all that for?

To watch Blizzard run the game to the ground. Our accomplishments become null and void the moment we reach them. We grind and grind only to find out in the end it was for nothing and now that shiny new thing is not worth it anymore. Patch after patch we start the game over and throw the old content in the trash. How are we supposed to feel good about any of this? Why do we bother? What’s the point? You said Shadowlands was going to be different. And then it was just a bunch of lies. You say one thing and do the other. You learn the wrong lessons of past content.

You think of us as nothing more than numbers on a spreadsheet.

You give us mandatory content grind that is mindless and boring and then look at the numbers and go “everyone is doing this = fun”. No. We’re doing it because we have to in order to play the game at full capacity. Those metrics mean nothing, throw them in the trash. Look at magetower. The only reward was a cool looking weapon appearance, no player power. And it was a hit. Why didn’t you put cosmetics into Torghast? Why DID you drop cosmetics and customisations like a hot potato when the community responded to them so WELL? Why are you so focused on solving problems only you can see instead of listening to us for a change? There’s a huge disconnect between the player and the devs. There hasn’t been anything fun in the game for a long time. Just boring grinds with no end in sight. Is that the only way you can keep players logging in? Grind 1000 anima per week (because if I had to do any more than that I’d die) and then maybe in a month you can buy a belt appearance OR upgrade one sanctum feature. Why are these two on par in the first place?? Why are the cosmetics so expensive! Scratch that! If grinding anima wasn’t so soul crushing then maybe it wouldn’t be a problem!

And you know what, I feel bad. I recruited a friend of mine to the game only to have them watch the entire thing burn to the ground and waste their money. I feel so utterly horrible because when I invited them, I still had hope left. I wanted to show them Azeroth. I wanted to show them why I loved this game. But it just.. all went horribly wrong. This expansion was supposed to be better. And it wasn’t. You lied to us. You delivered a dud. A beautiful looking dud but still a dud. (the art team has always been the mvp).

I stuck by WoD when all my friend went to FF14. I stuck by BFA when all my friends were playing FF14 and different games. I stuck by the beginning of Shadowlands because I was hoping for better. And then I went to FF14 myself.

I finally cracked. After logging in to grind my 1000 anima and then logging off I had enough of it. I had already completed all past content, got my reps, got most of the mounts.. there as nothing to fall back on for the first time ever. I didn’t see a point. So I joined my friends in a game that opened my eyes on the rest of WoW’s flaws.

I’m tired of the constant grinds. When the gameplay is a freaking grind from day one... that’s not fun. You’ve burnt us out on that. Are you afraid to not have a grind anymore? Are you afraid if there is no sunk cost fallacy to keep us logging in every day we’re not gonna play? Here’s how you can make sure that doesn’t happen:

MAKE FUN CONTENT. MAKE CONTENT. INNOVATE.

The brain drain at Blizzard is real. The last few expansions (except for Legion) have shown a total lack of innovation. And honestly downright incompetence.

And then when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, the company turns out to be sick from the inside. Sick with perverted men who cannot keep their hands to themselves, staff who are mistreated and higherups who don’t give a shit about what’s going on inside the company, HR that doesn’t care! And once your workforce walks out and talks about union are brought in, you hire a firm to keep them from unionizing! You don’t give a shit about your workers! You don’t give a shit about your customers! You don’t give a shit about the players!

That was the last straw.

It’s really painful... to be the player and having it come to this. It feels like those 11-12 years I poured into this game are now tainted. What started out like a blossoming romance is now an abusive relationship where we are being gaslit and neglected.

I didn’t want it to end like this.

[idreamofplaid]

Christmas Present

Square Filled: Standing Sex

Characters: Dean x Reader; Rowena; Linda (OFC)

Rating: Mature

Tags: Voyeurism

Summary: Dean has reached a point in his life where something has to change.

Word Count: 1568

Created for @spnkinkbingo

A/N: This is Part 2 of Dean’s Christmas Carol. Read Part 1 Christmas Past.

The smell of brewing coffee filled the bunker’s kitchen while Dean rummaged through the refrigerator searching for something he could make for breakfast. With any luck, there would still be some bacon. He deserved some bright spot in his Christmas morning. After last night, he needed it even more than usual. 

Dean was not a stranger to troubling dreams, but last night’s dream brought things back to his mind that he had been careful to lock away. Allowing himself too many feelings would hinder his ability to do what his job required of him. Once, when he was young, he had played with the idea that maybe he could have more than a shotgun filled with salt rounds and an EMF meter. Sam had done it, he’d claimed a life for himself by leaving it all behind. That wasn’t in Dean. He knew hunting was deeply entrenched in his blood; it was just part of him, but maybe he could balance it with a life outside of hunting somehow.

Y/N had represented that life, but he had been naive to think that was possible. The first monster that came sniffing around seeking revenge made it unquestionably clear to Dean that Y/N was in danger as long as he was near her, so he left. He had made some lame excuse about his “job” being so demanding on his time that he couldn’t give her what she deserved. That much was true at least. The life he could have given her was in no way what she deserved.

He resumed his search for bacon and tried to push the thoughts of her away again. Yahtzee! There it was, hiding behind a pile of Sam’s salad vegetables. At least there would be something redeeming about this morning. Fortune must be smiling on him today because there were eggs too.

Dean set about cooking his Christmas breakfast. He cracked two eggs in a pan and started to stir them around then poured himself a cup of coffee while he waited for the eggs to firm up.Once they did, he added a couple strips of bacon to the pan. The satisfying sizzle of the bacon was a comforting sound to Dean’s ears. It was a familiar constant in his life. 

With eggs and bacon piled on his plate, Dean turned to make his way to the table. He was never the kind of person to scare easily, and at this point it was almost impossible to startle him; but the sight of Rowena sitting at his table came close. He finished chewing his bite of bacon and swallowed it. “Where’s Sam?”

Rowena brought her well manicured hand to her face and leaned on it. “Oh, he’s still in bed I would imagine.” She smiled knowingly. “Dear boy needs his rest.” 

Dean waved his hand. “Alright. Enough. I don’t need the details.” He sat down across from her with his breakfast. “Why are you here? Don’t you want to spend Christmas with Sam?” Dean was still growing accustomed to their relationship, but he thought he was doing a pretty admirable job of accepting it. Hell, he’d even be happy for Sam if this was what he wanted and Rowena could give it to him. 

Rowena lowered her hand and sat back. “Always so subtle.” She smiled and slowly blinked her eyes with a flip of her lashes. “I’ll get back to Sam soon enough. There’s just a little bit of business I need to take care of first.”

“That business is here?” Rowena gave Dean an affirmative dip of her head. “Go on. I’m listening.”

“Well, it seems you’re doing your best to try and dismiss your journey last night.”  Dean felt a stab of uncertainty shoot through him, and he focused on keeping his feelings out of his expression; but that didn’t work with Rowena. Damn witch powers. “Oh, it was real alright. You went to the past.”

Dean couldn’t even say that was impossible. His experience had taught him that basically everything was possible. That meant Bobby had really been here, or at least his ghost or whatever had been. He looked back to Rowena. He wanted answers, and maybe she had them. “What do you know about that?”

She glanced down nonchalantly at her fingertip running over the surface of the tabletop. “It seems you’re at a crossroads in your life, Dean.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “Not a literal one, of course, you’ve done enough of that. You’ve reached a place where you must make a decision, and I’ve been called upon to help you do it.”

Dean scoffed at that idea. “Yeah, right. And who’s going to call on you? I doubt God would have called on you even before he was a dick.” Dean remembered he was talking to his brother’s girlfriend and quickly settled down. “No offense.”

“None taken darling.” Rowena stood; her gaze was locked on Dean. “The universe has mysteries none of us understand yet, and something did indeed call upon me; thus here I am. I have been charged with showing you your life...as it is now.” She walked around the table and extended her hand to Dean. “Take it.” Dean put his hand in hers, and the bunker once again disappeared. 

This time he stood outside a rundown motel with Rowena. The door was a burnt orange color that hadn’t been fashionable since the seventies and the gold numbers on it read 117. Dean knew this place and time. It was last week, and this was where he’d brought the redhead from the bar. 

Rowena made a move toward the door and put a hand on the knob. Dean lunged for her, and put his hand on her arm. “What are you doing?”

Rowena rolled her eyes in her exaggerated way then smiled sweetly at Dean. “Going inside of course.”

He stammered, “But...but…” 

She laughed, amusement evident in her voice. “Have you gotten shy all of a sudden, Dean?”

He pulled his hand back. His expression was one of indignant confusion.  “No.”

Rowena tossed her head and turned the knob. “Good. Now come inside.”

Dean stepped through the door straight into a porno, and he was the star. The girl, Linda? Lisa? Laura? He couldn’t remember. She was against the wall; Dean’s mouth was on her neck, and the sounds she was making were loud enough that Dean wondered how he hadn’t heard them outside. 

Linda, he was going to call her that for convenience, was tearing off his jacket and his shirts. She raked her nails down his chest, and Dean watched himself lift his head. “You’re a fiery one. I like.”

Rowena cut her eyes to Dean. “Really?”

Dean didn’t respond. He was too distracted, and it wasn’t in an arousing way. The memory of last night was still fresh in his mind. He remembered the way Y/N had sounded, and it was nothing like this. The way she had said his name made his stomach draw tight and flutter with the anticipation of something better than good sex. This girl probably didn’t know his name, the same way he didn’t know hers.

Under different circumstances, watching a hot woman wrap her legs around him while he pounded her against the wall would have turned him on; but he wanted to hear Y/N, wanted to taste her, feel her, only her. This just made it perfectly and painfully clear he’d lost her. 

“Fuck!” Bar girl Linda screamed when she came. Dean watched himself rut up into her until he filled the condom he was wearing. Then he watched himself take it off and dump it into the trash can while she took off her clothes. They met at the bed and climbed on to start round two.

Dean said nothing, but Rowena wasn’t so quiet. “Ah, Dean. You’re very talented it seems.” She tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smirk. “Must run in the family.”

Dean turned away from what he was seeing and glared at Rowena. “Okay. That’s enough. Can we just go please?”

Rowena feigned innocence. “What’s the matter, dear? Didn’t you enjoy yourself? Certainly looks like you’re having a good time.”

Dean gritted his teeth. “It was fine. Time to leave.”

Rowena looked at Dean, her eyes penetrating to the heart of him. “Not fulfilling then?” She tapped his arm with her finger. “That’s the real problem isn’t it? This isn’t enough for you anymore. Your liasons have lost their sparkle.” She closed her arm around his. “Come along then.”

Dean closed his eyes, and when he opened them he was back in the bunker. Rowena was straightening her dress; the carton of eggs was still on the counter where he’d left them. Everything seemed normal, but there was nothing normal about this. A pain had been resurrected in his heart that he’d buried a long time ago. “Are you alright, darlin’?” 

Dean walked to the table, scooped up his uneaten breakfast, and took it to the sink.  “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Rowena lifted her chin and smoothed her hair. “Very well then. It’s time I returned to Samuel.” Dean heard her, but everything sounded hollow. He stared at the plate in his hands and put it down on the counter. “Heed what’s happened, Dean.” Without another word she disappeared, leaving Dean with his cold bacon and eggs.

Everything Forever: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @sweetness47 @timelordy-fangirl2 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @gh0stgurl @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561​ @dawnie1988​ @maddiepants​ @volleyballer519​ @outcastedangel​ @iknowwheremytowelis​ @kdfrqqg​ @lizette50​ @daisymoder72​ @sorenmarie87​ @oldfreakything​

Dean/Jensen Love: @deansyahtzee​ @flamencodiva​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @waywardrose13​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ @focusonspn​ @akshi8278​ @ladywinchester1967​ @sgarrett49​ @wingedcatninja​ @coffee-obsessed-writer​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @ellewritesfix05​ 

Dean’s Christmas Carol: @moron225​

[black-streak]

Waiting for the Worms - Nobody Home

Part 7

Warnings less? In effect here? But still be aware of course. Condensing a lot for the sake of timelines matching up and consistency in pacing. (Okay, so maybe I have Mari's entire plotline figured out and am mostly playing Jason's by ear, call me out on it)

Closed list of nice people who I regularly hurt for amusement: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

Jason woke up screaming to the sight of bright glowing green, only to snap back into the bedroom as Sabine burst in through the trapdoor. The petite woman ran up the stairs and collapsed beside him, throwing warm arms around his shoulders, tugging him down into the crook of her neck.

"Shh, shh honey, it's alright. It was just a dream, you're okay, I'm here."

He stiffened at first, only to melt into the embrace, meeting otherworldly blue eyes behind her. Tikki seemed to shake with concern, wanting to come to him, but unable to in the presence of his parental figure. 

Sabine pulled back a touch, stroking his head in gentle motions, meeting his eyes and guiding him through concentrated breaths until hia had evened out.

"Do you want to talk about it, sweetie?"

A wobbly smile broke on his lips at the sweet endearment as he shook his head and fell back into her embrace. He'd never adjust to being so thoroughly cared for and loved and supported, even if she didn't realize it was all directed at the wrong person. God, he hated lying to her. About where he was during akuma attacks. Why he stopped being friends with most of the class. Why in the year after her death, he had stepped down from most of Marinette's class responsibilities. About who he was and what he meant to her. He hated letting this wonderful, loyal, fierce woman think he was her daughter. 

Flashes of the toxic green flashed behind his closed eyes along with flowing red, reminding him why he woke in the first place.

Accepting the kiss on the cheek and reassuring Sabine that everything was okay, he waited until she disappeared down the steps and towards her own room, door firmly closed behind her before turning back towards Tikki.

"Are you okay, Jason?"

"Yeah… might be spending too much time with Plagg. Dreamt I was drowning in his eyes," he joked.

"That's awful, no wonder you were screaming," she tagged on, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Oh yeah, absolute nightmare."

"You're okay though."

"Yeah," he breathed out, turning over and feeling the kwami curl up on his hip and slowly fall back to sleep as he stared at the wall until morning.

…

Occasionally, someone worked up the nerve to ask him out. 

Whether because her physique appealed to them or his personality drew in a rather specific type. Usually, guys who thought they could tame him. Girls who wanted his aggression directed in passion. Saw her body and his anger and guilt displayed in a rather intimidating, distant contenance. Never one to start a fight, but quick to end one with a verbal lashing. Otherwise friendly when approached, but never the one approaching. Some thought him shy, others knew better and saw the fire within. All were turned away.

It made Jason sick to his stomach to think of dating these people with her body. To show affection and know he was using her body in that manner. And moreover, he couldn't stand the idea of ever being with someone who wasn't her. Sure, he knew many people dated around before meeting their soulmate or were only platonic with their other half and sought romance elsewhere, but none of them were in his position. None of them were living inside a dead other half's body, pretending to live their life. Surely if they were, they would feel the same. Not that he planned on sharing.

As it stood, he became a known heartbreaker at school.

…

He dreamt of flashing blades and splattered blood that night. He screamed himself awake once more. He wasn't sure why. It's not like he didn't risk his life everyday since he was ten. Something about the dreams got to him though.

…

Sometimes he forgot he wasn't her. This life he lived, this lie became his truth for just a moment.

Nothing epitomized this as much as the absolute defeat of Hawkmoth.

Jocular came up with the idea with the help of Fievel. The two came up with a strategy of using illusions and prodding mice to draw akumas further and further towards the outskirts of Paris, making stops along the way to toy with the angered victims until they did something reckless. Serval and Ladybug made sure to stay completely out of sight to ensure that Hawkmoth knew that his goal would not be reached with this line of action. Nimbus jumped in if the akuma came too close to any of the others to knock them off their feet and give the others a chance to create distance. If Hawkmoth's signature purple symbol glowed around their face, they knew they were still in range. Once the akuma seemed to go absolutely off the rails with no interference, they ended the battle quickly and marked the spot on a map of Paris. Once they made their first mark, they went slightly to the right of the previous fight, waiting to make the next mark and leading the following battle to the right of that until, like clockwork, they made a complete circle. 

With the circle complete, they took their map and drew a line from one point to the one directly across the map, until eventually they found the exact center.

The Agreste mansion. Oh, the irony.

The battle went surprisingly quick after that. They waited until they defeated an akuma close to the mansion, so that the Moth miraculous would need to recharge before it could activate again. Nathalie, who previously wielded the peacock, stayed out of the altercation, too sick to attempt anything. With Gabriel unable to transform yet and his assistant unable to fight back, they made quick work of apprehending the man, bringing the police into the atrium of butterflies and showing the underground garden that held his list wife. With a few threatened words whispered into his ear by Ladybug and Serval, Gabriel transformed in front of the police, allowing them to take pictures of everything as evidence of his actions. He also admitted his guilt into a tape recorder, to be used in court. Of course, they were all careful not to let any of the kwamis be seen by civilians throughout the arrest.

Finally, with the two adults arrested with their bodyguard and Adrien taken into custody for questioning, the heroes all disappeared into the dark night, the battle over and won.

They met back up in their headquarters, Fu's parlor. Luckily, throughout the years, the old master had never been found out, despite a handful of close calls. Mostly due to the group threatening the man back into hiding every time he considered getting involved. Still, the place became their haven. A place to relax and regroup without the fear of being overheard. That night, the group celebrated their victory, emotions haywire in a swirl of grief and anger and misery and elation and pure relief, letting everything flow out, the release long overdue.

Up until this point, the hunt of Hawkmoth over the last two months had kept Jason so busy that beyond the nightmares, he nearly forgot that they weren't celebrating with him, but with who they thought was Marinette. The constant use of false names and codes had helped further disillusion him. 

Now though, they hollered and sobbed and laughed together in their exuberance and they all congratulated him as their leader, as the one freed of the most responsibility, as the one who had battled from the beginning. He thanked them and rejoiced the end of an era. And then he went to her home.

He slipped in through the balcony and dropped into bed, the transformation sliding off as he went. That wasn't really his battle to win. His enemy to defeat. He knew that. She would've been happy to know that their team protected Paris. Broke it free from Gabriel's reign of terror. That they won. He wished she could've been there to see it. To take down her enemy herself. This was supposed to be her victory. He fell back into depression, knowing she'd never get to witness his defeat.

…

That night, he dreamt of shrouded figures. Of defending himself from multiple enemies. He dreamt of proud jade green eyes watching at a distance. 

…

It hurt so badly to let her dreams slip through his fingers. Muscle memory and basic knowledge from reading her old books on sewing led to an adequacy when mending old clothes, adding buttons, or customizing his own things to fit further to his style. This however, did not translate into her creativity and ability to take a concept and transform it into an original design.

At first, this raised suspicion and worry amongst their friends and family, but as time passed, they accepted that perhaps the inspiration had moved on. Jagged and Clara had shown their acceptance and support and told him if he ever got back into the game, to contact them first. Both protested and fought valiantly at first, but after a long conversation where he revealed that he simply couldn't bring himself to create the way he once had after losing his other half, the two had showered him in affection and backed off. The full truth was tragic, but the half truth was enough for them all.

The team had sensed the change since the beginning and upon finding his dwindling willingness to create, they thought perhaps moonlighting as ladybug drained it from him. Probably explained why he worked better with Plagg nowadays despite his attachment to Tikki. He allowed them to believe what they would as long as it meant not pushing him to design anymore.

He took to studying more, reading on any subjects that caught his attention at the moment, enjoying the freedom of no longer having a villain to fight. He kept up training with the team and her old martial arts classes. He also added in kickboxing for the hell of it. It became a wonderful outlet for his aggression without taking it out on his teammates.

Sometimes, on busy weekends or on breaks, he helped in the bakery. It was during one of these times that Tom brought him in to help develop a new flavor, that he found a love of creation again. Something about working side by side with Tom, discussing how different spices and fruits played off each other reminded him of early afternoons spent with Alfred. When tears sprung to his eyes at the thought of the older butler, Tom immediately drew him into a hug, asking what had made him cry. Jason gave a watery smile and simply said he had missed this.

After that, her parents started using him in the baking process more, allowing him to taste taste and make his own creations with their guidance. He was a decent baker, good enough to keep up with them and offer new takes on old classics, but they soon discovered that he truly came to life with cooking.

It was soon afterwards that he took over making dinner every night, releasing some of the pressure from Tom and Sabine to find time in the midst of shutting down the bakery. It also eased some of his guilt towards the two to have a way to pull his own weight within the family.

…

It had been about eight months since he first dreamt of toxic, luminescent green. It still visited him in his nightmares occasionally, engulfing him in horrific clarity. Sometimes he asked Plagg about it, only to be met with concerned, nervous eyes. Once he teased the little god about corrupting his soul, only to see a flash of fear quickly shroud itself in a huffy, put off demeanor. Plagg hissed at him and gave him the cold shoulder for three days after that. He never teased the kwami about the nightmares again.

Sometimes the dreams still held flashes of silver and red, dripping blood off steel, of shrouded aggressors. Of proud jade green, watching him at all times, assessing him, observing and glinting with a hidden glee.

It was a couple months after the two year anniversary of her death that something changed.

He dreamt of jade green eyes, staring up at him from a much lower height than the last set, coming closer, looking curious and guarded, yet hopeful.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “The Wrath of Conn.”

Lol, I couldn’t resist. Anyway this is for the multitude of you Conn groupies who wanted a little something form his perspective. Well cue a couple pages of him sort of being an asshole. But also it is totally plot relevant so there is that. 

Hope you all enjoy. This was actually kind of difficult to write, and I had to re-write it at least once :) 

The ship was a strange place now, months had gone by without his presence, and without his connection to their thoughts, and in that time, things had changed. Conn wasn’t entirely sure he appreciated it, but only because that meant he had to re-gather all the information he had originally collected on his human crew members to begin with.

It had been a difficult few months, the most difficult the ship had ever experienced. Conn wasn’t exactly displeased at that fact considering that it was the collective fear and horror from the Cannibal incident that had finally broken him out of his Coma, but he was also displeased to find that things had changed somewhat. Conn didn’t lie change, especially the change that he saw within the Commander. The only person aboard the ship that he could actually communicate with mind to mind.

Well actually scratch that, there were a few others he could speak with, but currently the weighed about fifteen pounds and had language ability so rudimentary it was like trying to talk with the dog. 

Regardless, the last few months  had absolutely ruined what tentative trust the two of them had garnered. 

After returning to the ship, and after putting the Commander into a sort of psychological coma to deal with shock, a HAZMAT team from earth had been called to deal with the issue. Ensuing autopsies had proven that the crew had, in fact, been eating each other despite their being plenty of food left in storage. The remaining survivor, who the commander had been forced to kill in self defense was one Captain Everett Malaney Ex UNSC officer and current freelance ship contractor for both tourist and colonist divisions. By all right he had been an upstanding decision. 

His autopsy had shown that advanced scurvy including kidney failure was the main reason for his monstrous appearance, bruised skin, thinning hair, infected gums and so on. As for the behavior of the crew, it could only be put down to some sort of exaggerated mass hysteria when people realized they would likely die alone in space billions of miles from home in the blackness of space.

Commander Vir had been….. Ok at that point,  but the subsequent venture into a border-world prison had shattered his already cracked composure.

Conn was the only one who had been able to experience the fall from the man’s own perspective. Watching inside his head as he careened into a psychological spiral that had eventually brought them to the earth for treatment. 

Generally conn would have said that he totally didn’t care about anyone’s mental status, and he still would say the same upon being prompted, but this was something that needed to be taken care of and it needed to be done quickly. It wasn’t his fault he was the only one who would truly be able to handle it.

So there he floated in the darkness of early morning, down the hall and towards the mess hall, a ghost town in the early morning devoid of both the sleeping crew-members and the skeleton crew who were off working at their perspective jobs.

He could sense five minds on approach to the room. Three rudimentary and childish minds, and one completely alien guided primarily by smell and hearing. She was the one to  sense his first, with that powerful nose of hers. She didn’t like his smell, it was a burning and caustic thing that made her uneasy, and generally caused her to sneeze.

The next to notice were the spiderlings underdeveloped noses that were already almost as good as the dogs. They were strange creatures to be sure and Conn wasn’t sure how he thought about them.

Tendrils billowing at his back he floated into the room. 

With a whine of agitation, the dog lifted her head from where she had been grooming one of the spiderlings cradled between her two forward paws. Her tongue was still out from where she had been dragging it down the monstrosity’s back. Finally recognizing that he wasn’t going to leave she went back to her grooming. The soft scritch scritch scritch sound of her tongue on fur echoing around the room. She hadn’t originally known how to feel about the spiderlings, but they did smell oddly like Adam, and they looked enough like puppies that she could almost ignore the fact that they had extra legs.

He floated a bit closer to where the commander was sitting alone at one of the tables pen in hand making soft scratching noises as it moved across the paper.

Clinging to his back, like some sort of grotesque backpack, was another one of those little monstrosities. This one’s name was Glados, and Conn was almost sure that she was entirely a creation of anger and hatred aggressively protective of the commander even more so now that they considered his current psychological state.

Conn was only halfway across the room when the scratching of the pen slowed.

Adam paused, and Conn listened as a chill went up the man's spine. He could feel something watching him. And Conn marveled at that fact not entirely sure how the human could know that he was here when he had made no noise. Glados turned her head and hissed at him, but Conn flicked at her with his mind making her shrink back with a whimper.

Setting down his pencil, Adam turned slowly in his seat.

His expression registered absolutely no shock upon seeing Conn floating towards him. On the surface, he looked older as if he had aged ten years in the past month. He was slightly disheveled too hair mussed over his head, skin pale, with dark circles under his eyes. Everything about him seemed washed out.

“Conn.”  The man said, his voice echoing about the room. It was soft, flat, and uncharacteristic of him.

Conn paused glancing through the man’s mind to get a good look at the paper. His vision wasn’t so good in the dark confines of the ship. Generally his species spent much of its time in the direct light of stars, so much of his world was seen through other people’s heads. He saw the sketchy line drawing of a zombie head with hesitant crosshatched marks of shading.

:”Still haven't bothered to tell your therapist about that?” Conn projected into his mind.

He felt a sudden flash of anger in the man before it faded away dimmed as soon as it had come. That fact made Conn displeased.

He didn’t like the man without some sort of passion, and if he couldn't get happiness he would have settled for anger.

Not that he cared of course.

“No…. I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“You should already know the answer to that.” The commander said turning back to his drawing, “Go on, I know you’ve already looked.”

Of course Conn had taken a look. 

“Why do you insist on getting over this yourself when someone payers her a truckload of cash to help. It seems stupid and prideful.”

“Keep going.” The man prompted.

“Well consider now that I am here you no longer have privacy, so there is no reason to try and hide it anymore.”

There was a deep sigh, and the man tilted back his head. Inside Conn could hear his inner monologue urging his anger down. Conn couldn’t understand what kind of privacy invasion this was, in fact he should have seen this coming, but he still didn't want to explain himself to the strange creature and it’s freaky black eyes.

“Why do you want me to explain myself when you can just read my mind anyway. Why do you need to hear it from me.”

“I don’t need to hear anything, you need to hear it.”

The man paused setting down his pencil and turning again to look at Conn, one of his eyebrows was raised and the expression he had taken on was almost one of a disapproving father, which was a strange expression on a man that spends most of his time in the mental headspace of a 12 year old.

“Why do you care.” 

Con kicked his feet a little causing himself to float upwards towards the ceiling, “ I don’t care accept for your constant inner pity party is putting me off my relaxation time. I did just wake up from a coma after all, and the last thing I want is to have to deal with your dysfunctional thoughts invading my snooping. You see it is very difficult to dig up juicy secrets on the rest of the crew when your ‘oh woe is me’ attitude keeps breaking into my concentration.”

Another little spark of anger, this time a little stronger.

yes , that was good, better to have to moving out and being destructive that way than moving in. However, the human locked down his troughs with an angry twist of his lips, “Will it get you out of my head.”

“Alright.”

“What do I need to do.”

“Nothing really. I am going to say something to you and you are going to respond, that’s it.”

The human hesitated his chin lowered a bit, but eventually he sat back arms crossed, “Ok seems easy enough.”

“Bitch”

The human frowned, “Hold on.”

“Bitch.”

“Hey,” Another flash of anger, “What the hell kind of statement is that.”

“Whiny pathetic bitch.”

The human stood, “Hold on, I said I would play your game, and then you just come at me with insults.” That little spark was growing inside his chest heating up nice and warm. Conn could almost feel it as if it was his own. He liked the sensation. Human emotions were so fun to feel, so fun to play with. They gave him physical sensations he was physically incapable of having.

“Whiny- pathetic - bitch.” he repeated 

“You know what Conn screw you and the horse you rode in on because I have no idea where you are getting this.”

“Really. Someone once told me that actions speak louder than words and here you are moaning to your therapist about how hard your life is, and how hard it is to sleep and how hard everything is wa wa…. Wa.”

The human thrust a finger at him, “You shut your trash mouth. I am not going to be shamed for getting myself help. What I had to go through was rough, and I wasn’t ready for it. I could sit in the corner and cry about it, but here I am getting help holding myself together, so you can just shut up.”

“Doesn’t seem to be working.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean.”

Conn held out his hands to either side, “Look around Commander. Here you are sitting alone in the dark at three in the morning drawing pictures of cannibal zombies. I mean honestly you have gone and lost it. If you really wanted to get better you would probably tell her that you keep seeing him when you look in the mirror.”

“Fuck you Conn. I needed time, I STILL need time, and I will TAKE all of the TIME I NEED.”

If he could have cracked his knuckles he would have. This was fun, “No you can’t. You have a job to do, and by acting like this you are letting the entire crew down.

“Id let the crew down more if I took over not being ready.”

“Then why aren’t you ready?”

The human stepped forward right up in his face. The spark had lit into a flame fanned. The anger was billowing outwards, “I think I deserve to feel like shit for a little while. I watched a man die.”

“You mean the man you killed.” Conn went on smuggly 

The human was even closer to him now, chest to chest, “I DID-NOT-KILL-HIM. I survived. That man may have deserved what he got and maybe he didn’t, but no one died and made me GOD so it's not my place to decide.”

“You didn’t help him though, did you.”

“No, I didn’t, but why was it MY job to help him. Me against an entire prison. The guards weren't going to stop them, they hated that guy just as much as the rest of us, and while we are on the subject. YES I wanted him dead, any normal person would. I’m not a saint, I’m not perfect and yes I have those sort of thoughts. In fact, I got what was coming to me; my punishment was the beating I got. Anyone who blames me for any of that can go right to hell.” The flame was roaring nice and warm now. It was anger, and it was making both of them feel light. Blood ran through their hands and into their heads. 

It felt sort of nice to be mad.

“Oh please, if you really believed that, you wouldn't feel so guilty.”

The human snarled. The dogs and the spiderlings on the floor had retreated under a table, but Glados hissed along with him. “You think I feel guilty because of HIM, no. I feel guilty because I didn’t live up to my own standards. If I really am who I thought I was, I would have helped him no matter what, but I didn't and that's why I am frustrated. I am not the man I thought I was, and that PISSES ME OFF.”

Conn floated a little closer two dark eyes looking into one green one, “You know who you remind me of?”

“Oh please tell me more, I am DYING to know.”

Conn paused allowing the tension to build, “Mr. Everett.”

The room had gone very silent. Glados stopped growling, and her little ears went back, “Take…. That…. Back.” The human hissed in a horse whisper.

“Make… me.” Conn whispered back 

He watched from the Commander’s peripheral vision as Glados crawled across the floor and under the table. He was getting into dangerous territory, but that was no matter. He would manage just fine, “Come on, just look at his career, mirrors your own now wouldn't it. I can just imagine it, the ship goes dark and poor little Adam Vir loses his mind and starts eating the crew.”

A vein was pulsing just above the man’s good eye, “I would not.”

“I wonder what the Drev taste like. I mean Sunny is small enough, you could probably catch her and chop her up into bite sized pieces if you really wanted to.” 

‘I said SHUT UP.” “Why should I!”

The man lifted his hands as if he was going to choke Conn, but held back balling them into fists, “I would never do that, and I don’t give a damn what you say. I would keep my cool, and we would find a way out because that is what we always do.”

Conn shrugged intentionally and quite completely blowing him off as if it was nothing.

“You know it’s just sad. You trying to justify yourself.”

“What do you want from me Conn. Why are you her. Does messing with people get you off or something. Is this some kind of sadistic pleasure for you?” 

There was silence in the room for a long moment. 

Waffles whined below the table, and the spiderlings chirped nervously along with her.

“No Commander.” His voice lost it’s edge, he let it slip take on a more distant quality inside the man’s head.

“These thoughts aren’t mine…..” The human looked on in confusion, the flame in his chest pausing.

“They’re yours.” The flame was snuffed blown into smoke which rose into confusion on his face. He took a step back.

“What are you talking about?”

“None of those words were mine. I stole them all from your own head. All of the insults all of the illogical assumptions.” He grinned, “they made you mad, didn’t they because they didn’t make sense.”

The man just stood there mouth agape jaw working furiously though no sound came out

“You argued pretty heavily with me didn’t you. Thought I was being some sort of asshole….” Laughter, not that he could make the sound, but inside the man’s head he could sound like anything, “I’m not the asshole, Commander...you are. Calling yourself names, doubting yourself. Personally my opinion is that if you are allowed to do it, than I am. I mean if it’s inside your own head than you must believe it.”

“But I don’t.” the man whispered 

“Than what do you believe commander?” He waited there, knowing the answer but watching as the human struggled to find it inside his own cluttered head. Parts of his subconscious doing its best to hide the truth, but then he snagged it. Just a tendril, but it was enough.

He sighed deflating, “I want to feel normal again, I want to get back to work. I wanted someone to be angry at me, someone to yell at me like I won't shatter. I want them to tell me that I am NOT doing as well as I could. I want people to expect MORE from me not less because less means that they believe in me less. Even if I can’t reach it, I want people to honestly believe that I can because maybe if someone believe it, it’s true.”

“You feel like people have been making excuses for you.”

He threw his hands in the air, “Exactly. They’ve been going so easy, they've been so nice, but that's not what I want… It’s not what I need. I know it sounds stupid, but I want someone to come in here and tell me to my face that I need to do better because they'd be right. All the doctors and all my friends they think they are being supportive, and they are, but that’s not what I need. I need expectations.” 

Conn crossed his arms, “Fine, do better. Get off your ass and get back to work.”

He sighed, “it’s different coming from you.”

“Why?”

“Because You know exactly what I want, but you're probably don’t mean it. I don’t need platitudes Conn.”

More laughter. He liked the sound it was fun, and it was a great way to mock people, “Platitudes. Do you honestly think I care about your feelings enough to give you platitudes. I am being honest. I think you’re being a selfish asshole sitting here all alone in the dark coloring when you have a job to do. Do better.” The man was glaring at him again. That little spark in his chest had come back easier than it had before, Conn reveled in the feeling of his anger.

“What do you want Commander, right now what do you feel right now.”

“Probably the desire to strangle you.” Conn didn’t even bother flinching.

“You don’t really want that.”

He sighed in annoyance, “Fine, I don’t want that…. I….” Conn waved a hand trying to prompt him on. Conn could feel it, a sort of buildup of emotion inside the man. Physically it felt like a cap on a shaken up bottle filling his entire body up till just under his head, like he was trying to keep his face out of the water in order to avoid drowning.

“You now what, honestly I’M PISSED OFF. IT’S NOT FAIR DAMN IT. If I could just…..”

“Come on….” Conn coaxed.

“If I could just, clear it all out then maybe I’d feel better, but I have to act all civilized because of my rank. I have to be in control.

Conn waved a hand dismissively and motioned around the room, “Well go on, no one is stopping you.”

“Not on the ship.” The man hissed in return.

“It’s your ship isn’t it. Look around, Commander what is the worst you could do, break a couple of chairs bust the coffee machine , nothing you couldn’t pay for.”

“What if the crew sees. 

“Screw them.” Conn said, “everyone will be better off if you get a little destructive now versus not doing it and being a lot more destructive later.”

THe man held his eyes for a very long moment, “It won’t be pretty.”

“I’m inside your head, I have seen plenty of things that aren't pretty.” 

There was silence for a few seconds before.

“You should probably step back.”

This time Conn did as directed floating back and high watching as the man turned on the spot. His head was bowed, his hands curled into claws at his side. He watched from the sky as one dog and three spiderlings slunk across the room and hid under the salad bar.

He allowed himself to feel the buildup as the man’s hands began to shake uncontrollably, his breathing grew heavy, blood rushed into his face and neck, and then, the cap burst from the bottle….

WIth a scream of anger, almost inhuman the man lashed out with his prosthetic leg kicking the table. The power was enough to snap some of the bolts holding it in place and it hit the floor on it’s side with a crash. Chairs went flying along with creative curses Conn would have to save for later. Silverware crashed onto the ground. Lights hung from exposed wires. Metal screeched as it was dented. Paper was rent and scattered about the floor like confetti. 

Minutes passed by followed a reign of destruction so impressive Conn admitted he actually underestimated what was going to happen. 

The commander  stood at the center of the room surrounded by carnage. His hands were bleeding. He tilted his head back towards the ceiling screamed again and fell to his knees breathing hard. There he went quiet and Conn could feel as the last bit drained from him, dripping onto the floor and dissipating away.

The red faded from his neck and face, and with an exhausted sigh he flopped onto his back one bloody hand resting on his stomach, the other resting on the floor as he stared at the ceiling. Conn floated over, adjusting the gravity field so he sunk to the floor, and lay down as well. Their heads were side by side, though their feet were going in opposite directions.

They lay like that for a minute.

After a few moments, There was a soft shuffling on the floor as waffles slunk from under the salad bar crouched close to the ground, her tail sweeping fast and slow to the ground her ears back.

She scooted closer to the commander, whimpering and yawning with agitation.

The commander patted her ears as he stared up at the ceiling, and she lay against him in the crook of his arm. 

Noise down in the hallway, along with the sound of rushing feet and a group of humans charged onto the deck carrying an assorted array of weaponry. They paused in the doorway to the mess hall from two doorways looking both worried and confused spotting the commander lying amidst the carnage.

“Commander wha-”

The man held up a finger, “SHHH…. Shhhhh.” 

The humans went quiet looking between each other with confused expressions. Dr. katie poked her head around the door frame and glanced around the room, then with tentative steps she walked quietly into the room and towards where the commander lay. She didn’t say anything but paused, then shrugged and slowly lowered herself to the ground, adjusting herself till she was flat on her back staring up at the ceiling. The other humans looked between each other in surprised confusion, but one of the marines shrugged walked forward and lay down on one of Conn’s other sides resting his hands atop his stomach in silent contemplation.

Following their baser social instincts, the other humans followed until, one by one, he was surrounded by an array of human bodies all staring up at the sky in deep contemplation. Conn reached out to them feeling their solidarity to their commander, and then connected the two together allowing the Commander to hear them for one brief moment.

There was silence and then, inside his head.

“Thank you, Conn.”

“don’t mention it.”

...

“Conn.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t EVER try that on anyone else.... ever again.” 

“You have my word, Commander.” 

 Whatever..... its not like he cared.

[sierraraeck]

Return to Normalcy (Pt.1)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Returning to normal has never been so hard. Just as Aundreya is starting to make amends and fit back in with the group, something gets in the way. Story twenty-two.

Category: Angst, but there’s some fluff too

Warnings: Cussing. CM talk. Mentions of death and suicide as a COD. Break-ins.

Word Count: 5.5k

It was odd, how quickly things seemed to go back to ‘normal.’ It was a new sort of normal, like if you’d moved out of your house and years later the new owners invited you over for dinner, but it felt familiar nonetheless.

It seemed to me that we were all more focused on the cases coming in, and while the rest of the team still went out for drinks after a long case, I no longer took part. It didn’t feel right, and above that, I had to get home and prepare for whatever new guest decided to grace me with their presence.

The nice way of saying that people were breaking into my apartment.

It started the Monday I had returned to work with the BAU. Once we got home, my apartment was trashed with a lovely note carved into my bedside table letting me know that this was only going to get worse. I had no motive for them either, but I had three guesses: they were working for DeLeon, they were working for Archer, or they were working for me. If they were working for me, they were probably pissed that I went back to the BAU, or they were clients that held a grudge.

Either way, it didn’t really matter, because if I wasn’t already having trouble sleeping, I definitely was now. I never knew what day, what time, or how many people there’d be. I hate to call it a game, but that was honestly what it’d become. I tried to track their pattern, but they were good, keeping everything very random. I started making bets with myself about the day, time, and number of people, just to keep things interesting.

I walked into work with new bruises and cuts all the time. I tried my best to cover them up, but I wasn’t stupid, and I didn’t believe my teammates were blind. But none of them pushed, they only ever gave me weird looks, which I promptly ignored.

It wasn’t until I was so tired and in pain that I couldn’t do my job correctly.

I was chasing down and unsub, but I couldn’t keep up. He turned a corner and when I followed, ambushed me. We started fighting, but I couldn’t hold my own. Had it not been for Derek following me and shooting him off of me, that man would have strangled me with his bare hands. Only then did Hotch pull me aside.

“Chambers, what is going on with you?” he had those stern, yet caring eyes trained on me.

“Do you want the real version, or the boss version?” I sarcastically asked. He raised his eyebrows slightly. “I’m having trouble sleeping. I wake up every night from nightmares if I’m lucky enough to fall asleep in the first place.”

“Do you expect me to buy that, or do you also fight your furniture in your sleep?” he asked.

“I do expect you to buy that, because it’s true,” I shot back.

“But that’s not everything,” Hotch pointed out.

I shrugged, “It’s close enough.”

“Chambers,” he warned.

“I’m okay,” I assured.

“You almost died today in hand to hand combat. I’ve never seen you even come close to losing to someone in that area. You beat Morgan on a regular, and he’s one of the best fighters I know,” Hotch acknowledged, “What is going on?”

“Hotch, please-”

“I will ask you to take time off if this is not something that can be solved.”

“No!” I barely let him finish, “You cannot confine me to my apartment.”

He gave me a quick once over, and I tried my best to look composed. “I will order you to tell me if things get worse.” I nodded and gave a small ‘thank you’ before walking away.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I did everything I could to prepare for the intruders, but it was another long night. I was never sure if they were out to kill me or just scare me, but it usually ended up with me fighting two or three people at the same time. Usually they fled before things got too serious, but I ended up having to drag out a body every now and then.

Last night was no different, fighting two masked people until they decided to leave. The one upside of all the constant fighting after a while, was that it was allowing me to sleep better. I was so exhausted by the time I was done, that I could actually get three or four solid hours of sleep. Ironic how the same problem causing part of my lack of sleep, could also help me sleep.

The one thing different about last night, though, was that I finally got a look at one of their faces, unmasked and alive. It wasn’t much, but it was something to go off of.

I convinced Garcia to help me find someone who was hopefully in the system. I gave her a description; a man in his early thirties, red curly hair, about five foot eleven, scar behind his ear. She pulled up known felons and those in the prison system, but none of them were him. I didn’t want to have to raise suspicion by asking her to do it, but I had to know who was coming after me. So I went out on a limb and asked her to search for people in the Bureau, and those who worked closely with Agent Howard Archer.

And then I saw him. Some new assistant of Archer’s that also happened to work for the MI6 before moving to the US.

I played it off to Penelope, but I now knew who was coming after me. He must have been nearly as pissed as DeLeon was about Xena, and even more so about the fact that I weaseled my way out of charges, out of DeLeon’s grasp (if he knew about that), and all the way back to the BAU.

But I had a plan, one that would grant me more peace, and help keep the BAU team together.

Things just worked out even better than expected when Emily accidentally dropped information to one of the deputies that was helping his son get away with muder. Not like I wanted her to make a mistake, she was already feeling more guilty about it that she needed to, and I did want to be there for her, but it also just so happened to serve a bigger purpose as well.

We boarded the jet on our way home after using a couple extra days to catch the deputy and his son. Emily sat by herself in the back, clearly beating herself up. I saw JJ say something and squeeze her shoulder, but Emily was not having it. I gave her the first half of the trip to wallow, and then made my move.

I approached her seat and went to sit down when she waved me off, “Chambers, I really can’t go through another ‘it’s okay we still got him’ pep talk right now.”

I sat down right next to her and put my feet up on the other seat. I crossed my arms over my chest, mimicking her movement, and said, “Nah, man, I came over here to tell you that you majorly fucked up. Didn’t you hear? If you’re in the FBI and wrongfully trust your fellow law enforcement officers who are supposed to be helping you catch the bad guy, you’re immediately terminated?” She glared at me from the corner of her eye and I smirked, “I’m serious, Emily. If you ever make a mistake and then end up solving the whole case for us like that again, I think we might just have to fire you.”

“You’re hilarious,” she deadpanned.

“No, not really,” I smiled, “I only think I am when I’m massively sleep deprived and my badass coworker makes the coolest unsub takedown of the century.” She rolled her eyes. I looked across the aisle to where JJ was seated and asked, “Come on, JJ. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” JJ absentmindedly sang, not even bothering to look up from her magazine, “It’s not like she launched through the air, tackled him, and rolled on the ground a couple of times before handcuffing him from her position on top, then stood up like it was nothing.”

I shrugged, turning my attention back to Emily, “Ooh! So, does this mean, now that you’re obviously leaving, that I will be the best at the shooting range?”

“Okay, please stop,” Emily finally spoke back up. She still wouldn’t look at me, but I could see the beginning of a smile creeping up on her face.

I lightly poked her in the side, and she finally cracked a smile, looking over at me. “Look, historically I’m not the greatest at giving pep talks, but I’ve fucked up enough time to know the usual bullshit that they entail, and I know that not a single ounce of it is helpful. It’s gonna feel crappy for a while, that’s just how it goes, but trust me when I say that you have a lot more to be proud of than slipping up once in your seven years of being with the FBI. Not to mention that you personally got to kick his ass anyway.”

“Yeah, but,” she shook her head, “next time, things might not end as lucky.”

“God damn it, Emily,” I tsked playfully, “You’re starting to sound like me. And I can tell you with confidence, being me, that I do not recommend that path.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying but-”

“But you don’t want to come out with me and the girls tonight,” I sighed, posing it more like a statement than a question. “I get it.”

JJ perked up at this, and asked, “What is this you’re saying about girls night?”

“Oh, I guess it’s not that exciting. Emily doesn’t seem interested,” I feigned a grimace, reaching into my pocket to produce five ticket.

“What are those?” Emily asked.

I hummed, “I guess I’ll have to sell yours, or refund it or something, you know, since you don’t want to come out with us.”

“Aundreya, I swear to god,” Emily started, reaching for the tickets in my hand. I jerked them back, but Tara yanked one from my grasp.

“Alanis Morissette? Are you for real?” she asked.

“Dead serious,” I grinned.

I turned to Emily whose mouth was agape, “How’d you know? I’ve been trying to see her for years, but we always have a case!”

“Look, we have tonight and then the extended weekend off. I figured we could get some sleep this afternoon, get ready, go out to dinner, and then go to the concert,” I suggested.

“Absolutely!” Emily’s excitement was enough to make all of us smile, “This is amazing. Does Garcia know?”

“Does she ever,” I murmured. “She nearly wrecked the surprise about twelve times already!”

The girls laughed, and the prospect of getting away and doing something fun seemed to put everyone in a much better mood.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I woke up on Garcia’s floor completely exhausted. But for once, it was a happy exhaustion. No break ins, no nightmares, just the five of us girls having the night of our lives. I checked the time, and the brightness of my phone blinded my eyes. The time read 9:24, and my head hurt a little, but I knew how to drink. Emily and Tara would be fine by the end of the day, but I wouldn’t be surprised if JJ and Penelope were hungover until the weekend was over.

I started cleaning up the place, trying my best not to make any sound or knock into any bottles. When it felt sufficiently cleaned, and I did everything I thought I could that would be quiet, I went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Emily was the next up, and walked into the kitchen rubbing her eyes and holding an empty tequila bottle. She placed it in the trash, then walked over to where I was flipping pancakes.

“Damn, aren’t you tired?” she asked.

I gave her a look. “I’ve adjusted to the constant pounding in my head.”

“Right,” she rasped, “I forgot. You’ve got that super power that allows you not to be affected by drugs and alcohol and stuff.”

I just nodded. “How was it, though?”

She looked at me confused for a moment, before realizing I was talking about the concert. “Aundreya, it was amazing. I can’t believe you did that for us.”

I shrugged, “I just figured we all needed a break.”

“Amen,” Tara said, finishing the last of her beer before placing the empty bottle on the counter.

“Beer before pancakes?” Emily asked.

“My head already hurts, I don’t think another swig’ll change that,” she pointed out. When the other two woke up, we ate breakfast and finished cleaning Peleope’s apartment. It was the first time since I’d been back that I actually did something with the group, and it was actually really fun. We were all Alanis Morissette fans, so we practically screamed the lyrics all night. Not one of us could talk properly, our vocal chords probably wrecked for eternity.

When we finished up, we all decided to head back to our own places. I dreaded leaving, knowing that there was a 50 percent chance that mine was raided yet again.

I was the last one out, and right as I was about to leave, I felt Penelope’s eyes on me. She’d been acting a little strange around me the entire night, and I was wondering if she was ever going to talk to me about it. I turned around to face her and saw that she was looking at me with very nervous eyes. I offered her a small smile, hoping that she would come out with it on her own.

When she just kept looking at me, shifting her eyes between me and the door, I carefully asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she quickly said, seeming to pull out of her thoughts. “Sorry to keep you. You can head home if you need to.” She rushed over to me and started to open the door but I slightly leaned back on the door so she couldn’t fully pull it open.

“If you want me to leave, I will,” I looked her straight in the eyes, “But if you have something to say, or ask, please do. I don’t want you to be nervous to talk to me.”

She struggled for the right words for a moment before she sighed. “Do you want to sit?” I nodded and followed her to the couch. She took another deep breath before starting, “It’s about your ring of people.”

“Okay…” I invited her to continue.

“Um, Deen, that’s his name right? Deen?” I nodded, “Well, he mentioned something to me about you wanting to recruit me before I got offered a job at the FBI.”

I pressed my lips together with understanding. Of course Deen would slip up when it came to ‘The Black Queen.’ I already knew he had a not so little crush on her, and now that he’d met her, he wouldn’t shut up. “Yeah, I did. You were just starting to get really big around the same time the Cloaks were going under, and I knew you’d be a big asset to our team. Once I had the ring up and running, I made a plan to reach out to you and ask you to join us. It was a bit of a long shot considering you were using your skills to do good and you’d probably think we were on the opposite end of that, but we really wanted you. Well, I really wanted you and Deen was really pushing for it. Honestly, we were only three days out from inviting you in when you got caught. We were hopeful, but when you accepted the job with the FBI we weren’t surprised. Still sad, though,” I admitted.

“So, had I not got caught, or you’d gotten to me a few days earlier, your life could’ve been my life?” she asked, a bit of wonder in her voice.

I joked, “Hopefully not. But you would’ve been in the room with me whenever I was planning something new or we were tracking a client or mole. You probably would’ve been our lead in operations considering you’d have access to all of their information and security cameras we’d need to hack into, not to mention some of our own.”

“That’s… wow,” Penelope stared out the window as if she could see her other life playing out.

“But I think you ended up where you belong,” I smiled at her.

She mirrored my expression and agreed, “Yes. I think you’re right. It would’ve been interesting though, to see how different my life would’ve been.”

“Maybe,” I reminded, “But you might not have even said yes to us to begin with.” She looked deep in thought, understandably. It was a lot to process, especially since she had some idea of my lifestyle and the amount of trouble I got into. But it was still a possibility that she’d never had the opportunity to ponder. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yes. Thank you for last night and, for answering my questions this morning,” she stood up with me as I went to grab my stuff and head out the door.

“If you want to know anything else, just ask,” I smiled.

She nodded and was about to close the door behind me she shyly questioned, “And Deen?”

I grinned from ear to ear. “Great guy, super loyal, funny, and a natural leader and protector. Oh, and super into you.”

She smiled to herself, looking down a little bit, then gave me a wave as she shut the door.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When I got back to my place, and saw that the door was already cracked, I sighed. I swung open the door to see that things only continued to get worse.

Sitting there on the couch was Spencer. There was broken glass and knocked over furniture strewn all around, and he was like a rare diamond sitting in the middle of the rubble.

“Aundreya, what is going on?” his voice was soft and concerned, eyes wide.

“Spencer, please-” I tried.

He shook his head and gestured for me to sit down next to him. I swiped off some of the stuffing coming out of a read and sat down. “Please. Please tell me what all of this is. I want to help.”

“You can’t help,” I said.

“Only because you won’t let me,” he pointed out. “You’re coming to work with new bruises all the time, you’re clearly more tired than usual, and your ability to think and physically perform are decreasing.”

I looked down at my hands, spinning the bracelets around my wrist. “People are breaking into my place. It’s completely random but I can fend them off.”

The shock and concern in his eyes grew, “How long has this been going on?”

I purses my lips, “Since I came back.”

“And how many times has this happened?”

I looked around my apartment and shook my head, “I stopped cleaning after four.”

“Aundreya-”

“Don’t say anything,” I pleaded. “If you do, then I’ll have to take time off and leave this place defenseless, or you’ll assign people to stand guard which will likely only get them killed. I’m handling this.”

“You call this,” Spencer gestured to the disaster I called an apartment, “handling it?”

“I’m trying to handle it,” I corrected, “And it’s actually been getting better.”

“I know that’s not true,” he accused.

“Well now I’m too tired for nightmares and can actually get some real, solid sleep, so I’d call that a win,” I snapped. He looked at me hurt, “I didn’t mean to sound like that.”

“My point exactly. You’re too tired to control your emotions. You’re irritable,” he stated.

“I’m okay,” I insisted. I could tell he was not buying it, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want him anywhere near my apartment. Anywhere near me. It would only put him in harms way.

“Is this why you always insisted on going out to meet me instead of going to one of our apartments?” he asked.

We’d been meeting up for food or just walks when neither of us could sleep. He was still dealing with prison, and drugs, and Cat Adams with his mom (which I didn’t know about until I came back), while I was dealing with Xena, and DeLeon, and Agent Archer. We quickly realized that there was no one else to call at 3am in the morning when we couldn’t sleep besides each other.

“That, and I didn’t want to intrude on you and Maeve,” I whispered.

“She actually hasn’t been staying over these past few days,” he murmured. It threw me off guard, so I just stared at him with my head tilted to one side. “Yeah. I don’t blame her though.”

“Wait, it was her decision?” I asked.

“No, well yes,” he stumbled. “I mean, I felt bad constantly being away, and the only time I was here I was waking up with nightmares. She deserves better than that.”

“And you deserve to be with who you want. Don’t push her away because you feel guilty, let her make that decision on her own,” I finished with a yawn.

“God, you need sleep,” he said, effectively dodging my previous statement.

“Yeah, but then who’s gonna protect you if they come back?” I attempted to joke.

He reached down and produced his gun, then flashed the other one around his ankle along with a small dagger. I raised my eyebrows at him. He shrugged, “I think I can hold down the fort for tonight. The team needs you to be rested to chase down our unsubs.”

I laughed, “Yeah, but they need you rested to actually find them in the first place. I can pass the whole chasing them down thing back to Morgan for a while.”

“You’re not going to be able to sleep with me here, are you?” he asked.

I shook my head, “In your defense, I wouldn’t be sleeping if you weren’t here. But now that I know there’s more than just vases in here to protect…”

“Fine. How about we take shifts?” he offered.

“No, you should go and get some real sleep on a bed, not a couch that’s falling apart,” I suggested. He gave me a pointed look, and I knew he wouldn’t be sleeping either now that he knew what was going on. “Fine. Shifts it is.”

He stood up to go shut and lock my door, then came back to sit next to me on the couch. I put my head on his shoulder, and before I knew it, I was out.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I woke to the sound of ringing. I looked up to find that somehow, we both ended up asleep on my couch, my head on his chest, curled up in his side. His arm was around me and I wanted to believe that the ringing was just a part of another nightmare, but when it went off again, I sprung up off the couch. I quickly scanned the windows and all the doors, waiting for someone to jump us.

“It’s okay,” Spencer rasped, sitting up, “It’s just our phones.”

I looked down at the coffee table near the couch to see that he was right. “Oh.” I answered mine and walked into the other room while Spencer answered his, cursing myself for being so jumpy in front of him.

It was Penelope, “You need to get here fast. There’s been a death.”

“Be right there,” I answered. I shuffled back into the main room where Spencer was already grabbing his stuff, running his hands through his hair.

“Do you want to ride with me?” I asked.

“Sure,” he replied.

When we arrived at the bullpen, Hotch ushered us up to the round table room, and locked the door behind us.

“Hotch, what is going on?” JJ asked first.

We all looked at him expectantly. “Early this morning, the body of Associate Deputy Director Howard Archer was found in his apartment.” He flashed a picture up on the screen. Archer was hanging from his ceiling fan by his bed sheets. “It has been deemed a suicide, but we’ve been asked to confirm that COD.”

“Why? Is there any evidence of foul play?” Derek asked. I stayed completely silent.

“No.”

“Then what do they need us to investigate for?” Emily prompted.

“His wife swears that he wasn’t suicidal. He had been happier these past couple years, and only recently seemed on edge, but she said he seemed scared, not depressed,” Hotch presented.

“Yeah, but can’t fear and sadness sometimes appear to be similar?” JJ asked.

“Sure, but she claimed he seemed jumpy. Like looking over your shoulder scared,” Rossi answered.

“Chambers, you’ve been awfully quiet,” Derek looked at me.

I shrugged. “It looks like a suicide to me.”

“No more?” Derek pushed.

“Look, Reid, don’t you have some fact about people who subconsciously make stuff up when a loved one dies to cope? It’s like transferring but-”

“There are all different types of memory bias and false memories. Sometimes as a coping mechanism, victims can convince themselves that something different happened, or there were warning signs when there weren’t. Inaccurate recall, especially one of a key eyewitness causes almost-”

“Exactly,” I veered back to the point, “And if there is no evidence of foul play, I’d say we give it a little time and close it.”

“I agree,” JJ backed me, which I found slightly surprising.

“Okay,” Hotch said, “Rossi, take Reid with you to the scene and assure them of our conclusion unless anything else turns up.”

They nodded and left for the scene, while the rest of us went to our respective desks to get a jump start on paperwork.

I was relieved that I had played it off, and so far, it seemed like no one suspected a thing. I mean, I was with the girls for the entire night, or most of it anyway, and would have a clean alibi.

But I did kill him.

When we went out to dinner, I told the girls that I’d left my jacket at home. They all knew how tired I was lately, and didn’t question my forgetfulness. JJ offered me ker keys, which I took, but dropped in Heidi’s pocket. Heidi was one of the girls that I used to dance with, and she and I looked remarkably similar. If she kept her head down and away from cameras, you’d think she was me. I had her drive back to my place to get my jacket while I pickpocketed our waiter for his keys. I drove to Archer’s place, sneaked in through the window of his bedroom, and grabbed the sheets off his bed. I had gloves and shoe covers on, and my hair pulled back, so I was in the clear. I came up from behind him, and strangled him to appear the same way a suicide would. Tying him up to the ceiling fan was the fun part. At least I got to use a ladder I made sure to push over at the end. I then headed back to the restaurant where I grabbed my jacket from Heidi, and took back JJ’s keys. Entering the restaurant, I ‘bumped into’ our waiter to replace his keys, then sat down for dinner and went to the concert.

I didn’t plan on getting questioned, but if it got that far, I knew the girls would vouch for me. I mean, I was with them for the entire night except for the 20 minutes I left to get my jacket.

I was lost in thought, reconfirming to myself that there was no way I would get caught, when Derek viciously called across the room, “Chambers, what the hell?”

I looked and noticed the team and I were the only people left in the room. Rossi and Reid had returned, but I couldn’t figure out what he was so mad about.

“What do you mean what the hell?” I fired back.

“What is this?” Derek demanded, walking over to me and shoving his phone in my face.

It was the recording of me, sitting in the nursing home chair, saying the shittiest things I could think of. And I looked stone cold serious, “I don’t really have to think that much when it comes to that pathetic, riddled with daddy-issues boy. All he really adds to the team is a pretty face and a body that can chase down unsubs. Now that I can do that, I don’t really see his value on the team. I think the team just keeps him around because he’s funny to watch at bars surrounded by women.”

“Shut that off,” I croaked. The rest of the team had circled around me, looking hurt and shocked and betrayed.

“How could you say those things!”

“Derek, I can-” explain. But he cut me off before I could speak.

“Do you have any idea-”

“Yes!” I interrupted, “Yes, I know what I said, I know what I did! But if you’d just-”

“Don’t turn this on me,” he shouted back. Unbelievable. He’s not even gonna let me explain. I’m back to ground zero, and they won’t even give me a chance. “Penelope is by herself crying right now because of what you said!”

That was the last straw. “She almost died because of what I didn’t say!” That shut him up long enough so that I could finish, “God, one thing goes wrong and every single one of you flips on me in an instant.”

“I don’t know how you expect us to constantly forgive you for all the things you’ve done.”

“I don’t. Okay, I don’t. Not anymore,” I hissed, “Don’t expect me to do the same for you.” I shoved the last bit of paperwork into my bag and picked it up to leave.

“Do the same?” Derek’s voice was littered with irritation and sarcasm, “What do you have to forgive us for?”

I was almost halfway to the door when I spun on my heels, “Leaving me to rot in prison.”

“Yes, that was a mistake,” Emily jumped in, “But we realized that and came to save you from DeLeon.”

My mouth was agape, “You think that makes up for it? If you wanna play that game, how about this: I saved Spencer’s life that day, and you repaid me by forgetting about me behind bars. I got myself out of that DeLeon situation alive, and not like you’d care, but I got the rest of you out alive too, so don’t try to use finding me and carrying me out of that place as a remedy, because if I wanted to, I could have saved myself the pain and the torture and just let you all die.”

The team was in shock, and I started taking backward steps toward the door again when Derek recovered and spoke up, sounding slightly confused “So that’s it? You’re just gonna leave?”

“You don’t seem interested in anything else I have to say,” I spat.

“Look, we just-” Derek tried, his voice softening a little.

“No! No, I’m done with you constantly turning on me without hearing my side and then expecting me to accept your half-ass apologies. But I’m supposed to be understanding, right? I’m supposed to cut you slack because I’m the problem, right? I’m always the problem, with you, with the team, with every single relationship I’ve ever been in.” I huffed, “With me. I’m always the problem, okay, I get that. I’ve received the message loud and clear.” I continued on my path to the door, and I felt all of their eyes on me. Against my initial intentions to just walk out, I spun around and continued, “Just so you know, those things that I said saved your lives. And I didn’t mean a single word of it.”

“What do you mean saved our lives?” Emily asked.

Then I laughed. For profilers and FBI agents, I was surprised they hadn’t picked up on it. “How do you think he knew where you were and what you were doing, huh? Who did you think shot Penelope?” They still looked at me with empty faces. “He had snipers on you, and it seems I just couldn’t lie well enough when it came to her.” I turned toward the door.

“Chambers-” Emily tried.

I didn’t even turn around when responding, “Have fun at your little outing tonight. I won’t wait up this time.” They always went out after paperwork days, and I finally thought that tonight would be the night I’d join them again. But I was wrong.

Part 2

Series Taglist

@justanothetfangirl @kris-stuff @blameitonthenight21 @wooya1224 @unded-bride @swiftingday @dezzxmx

[mango-da-dango]

Predatory

Hanamaki Takahiro x fem! reader

Warning this story includes murder, violence, mentions of gore and cursing, if you are not comfortable with this, please don’t read, however, if you still want to read, take care of yourself

Second person Pov

Ding! Ding! Ding!

“Hanamaki! I’m going to be late! Do you know where my tag is?!” You yelled frantically looking for the stupid piece of plastic on your stupid lanyard. You ran out of your guys’ room and rushed downstairs.

“I found it!” He yelled from the end of the long hall. He screeched, throwing it towards you, “YEET!”

“Thanks! I love you, Astaxanthin hair!” you yelled back rushing out the door and hopped into your car, and sped to your work. Hanamaki watched as you drove off, your car growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared into the distance. He sighed and turned around, looking at their messy house.

“Welp better clean this up…” He thinks bending down and picking up a pillow you threw across the house looking for your tag.

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

You walked through the busy hallway putting on your white long coat and a pair of safety goggles, placing them around your neck. You saw one of your coworkers waiting for you at one of the corners. A medium height brunette named Oliver waved over to you, “Yo! Over here!”

Oliver was a fairly nice dude, he was even considered the company’s reliable brother. Catching up with him, you two rushed to the presentation room, while running he asked "What's up? You're not usually late to these kinds of things, did something happen?"

"Ah, the power got cut off in the middle of the night, cut off my alarm and a clingy boyfriend not wanting me to leave the bed," you said in between breaths, you wished you spent more time maintaining your stamina after you graduated from high school, but with all the studying and test you did in college, more tests and projects now, you never really had to do any fast sprinting...maybe the occasional lab explosion, but that was rare. You two arrived at a pair of large metal double doors you swiped your card, allowing you access. The doors slowly opened and let you in. The room is filled with tables full of notes and beakers. Many of your fellow scientists had been crowded up around your guys’ latest experiment.

“Ah~ Late to your own presentation I see.” An annoying voice snided. You groaned in annoyance and gave him a crooked smile while an irk mark appeared on your forehead, "What? You were caught up with something back home?"

“Hello, Derek. Yes, yes I am, I was busy doing something so I got held up for a bit, fucking asshole” you snapped, whispering the last part under your breath. He laughed mockingly before walking away. Mumbling about how annoying he was but unfortunately, you were partnered with him.

Making your way to the middle of the crowd and near the announcement desk you coughed gaining everyone’s attention, the smart board turning on and presenting the blueprint of your project "As all of you know we have been working hard on our current project, long hard hours of work and progress has been put into this and let me tell you, my fellow scientists. Our work will not be all for nothing, because it was a success!"

You beamed pumping your fist up and everyone cheered in glee and some throwing papers into the air. Everyone celebrated and some of the company couples kissed with tears in their eyes. After many long hours of torturous work was finally done and we would go down in history as people who changed the world for the better. One of your coworkers, a blonde woman named Annie smiled and patted your back and congratulated you.

"You did good, Y/n. Thanks for bringing us together," she thanked, the poker face never leaving her face, but her eyes sparkled with excitement. You could only stare at the blonde, awestruck. Did she really just show a tiny bit of emotion? Towards you?! This was rare and you were savoring every moment of it.

"ANNIE! THANKS TO YOU WE WOULD OF BEEN STUCK ON THE FIRST STAGE! THANK YOU!" You sobbed pulling the woman into a strong hug, she froze and tensed up before easing and patting your back awkwardly, saying it was no problem. Were you a slut for usually cold people warming up to you? Yes, yes you are.

All the cheer and happiness was cut short when 4 loud bangs echoed through the room and screams of pure horror replaced the joy. You felt waves after waves of pain surge through your body. You screamed in pain and darkness started to engulf your vision. Smoke started to fill your senses and all you heard were piercing screams before you blacked out.

Third-person POV

Screams were heard and the people on the floor underneath the lab grew scared and called for security. When they reached the double doors and entered the room they were greeted by something bizarre. The room was absolutely destroyed, tables broken and flipped, glass broken was scattered all over the place, and papers ripped and dirtied.

Most of the people there were gone, a total of 16 scientists were in the room, but only 4 people remain and all of them were knocked unconscious. Steadily creeping up to the four survivors cautious of their situation, they stopped when they saw the blonde named Annie, flinch, her shoulders started to tremble and so unlike her, she laughed. She turned around staring at them with demented-looking eyes. Shivers went down their spines as it was unusual to see her having more than the usual bored-looking expression on her face. So to see her laugh intensely after the lab was trashed and with eyes like those made them sick to their stomachs and her laughing had caused the others to stir up.

The first one was Oliver, he looked over to where the security guards were standing. His eyes were the same as Annie's, demented and insane. His expression darkened and his breathing was heavy. His brows furrowed and he let out a low growl and glared at the guards with piercing eyes that seemed as if they were able to cut through steel.

Then it was (Y/n)’s turn to wake up. Like Oliver, she was panting heavily with haunting eyes, but in comparison to him, she was even more insane. Her eyes seemed more intense and looked like they held all of the world's sins and tragedies and she looked hungry. As if she hadn’t eaten in forever. The woman made an effort to stand up, she limped and wobbled as if it was her first time attempting to get up.

While that was happening the last survivor, Derek, stared up at the ceiling until an overwhelming feeling of blood lust washed over him. He smiled sinisterly and grabbed a metal leg chair and bashed it over one of the guard's head killing him instantly.

“Fire!” The guards yelled and bullets started to rain all over the room aiming at the sadistic survivor. The sound of constant gunfire made the survivors more agitated. They all growled clutching their heads shrieking and doubling over in pain. They shrieked even louder until something snapped in them and they lunged towards the guards and killed them with their bare hands.

One of the guards managed to escape their wrath and hit an emergency lockdown button. The loud sirens of the building traveled through the entire building. They all growled harder and pain rang through their ears. Derek couldn’t take anymore and swung his weapon towards Y/n. Causing her to lose her balance she tumbled backward, then angrily she lunged and kicked him in the stomach with the strength that could compare with a three-hundred-pound weight being thrown at you.

She clawed at him and tried to rip his eyes out, but he got the upper hand and bit off a part of her shoulder, and slammed her head against the floor knocking her out. Oliver didn’t take this too lightly and kicked him straight on the back of his head. Derek stumbled before grabbing Oliver’s leg and flinging him over his shoulder, crashing into a nearby table and began to beat him mercilessly.

While all of this happened Annie got up still laughing and stumbled out, hugging herself. While walking she found one of the company’s interns looking at her in concern, they rushed to her side, “Ms. Annie! Do you need help? You’re injured.”

She leaned into their chest and wrapped her arms around them before grabbing a tight hold of their neck. The poor intern tried gasping for air but to no avail as Annie’s slim fingers trapped their neck preventing any air from coming back in or out. She laughed lowly, the soft giggles spilling out. She stared into their eyes intensely, they were about to pass out until a figure knocked her out by chopping the back of her neck. The intern breathed out huffing and looked at their savior. It was one of the more experienced security guards.

“Get out and look for somewhere to hide, four scientists have gone insane.” He warned pushing them into the direction of the exit. The intern nodded and left. The security guard looked around for more wandering people before he bumped into a frantic redhead, He immediately recognized her as one of the science assistants.

“Mr Takaoka! Please you have to help them! I saw the scientists get attacked by a strange man! Now they’re going insane and hurting each other! Please you have to help Ms Y/n and Mr Oliver!” They cried, tears pricking the corners of their eyes. Takaoka the security guard told the poor girl to calm down and explain what was going to happen.

“Look, the Emergency siren has been set off, we will take care of everything, just go downstairs and find a safe place to hide, ok?” He assured the assistant, she nodded and then left. Once seeing that she was gone, he took out his radio and called for backup.

After rendezvousing with his team they made their way to the danger zone. Lining up against the wall they prepared with tasers in guns in hand. They opened the door and saw the two men fighting savagely as if they were animals in the wild, their uniforms were ripped up and bloody. Bruises and lacerations littered their bodies as they continued to fight all while Y/n was passed out in the corner.

“Restrain them!” Takaoka yelled, he aimed the stun gun and fired at the two with the others following soon after him. The targets landed and electricity surged through their bodies and mass amounts of pain engulfed the two as they screamed in pain. Stumbling, Derek grabbed hold of the slab of metal and swung at the security guard. Takaoka easily dodged and chopped the side of his neck, knocking him out.

Last was Oliver who just seemed to glare at the knocked-out scientist, gripping his arm. Two of the security guards tried approaching him, but he growled and started thrashing around and wobbling around Takaoka snuck up behind the man and knocked him out.

“Bring them to a medical confinement room with a one-way window, we need to find out why they’re acting like this.” He ordered. The guards agreed and began moving all the unconscious scientists to their designated cells.

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

The four scientists were secured in separate chambers all knocked out and handcuffed to their beds. The redheaded assistant was trembling in her shoes as she stood outside Y/n’s room, looking through the one-way window she was shocked at how much damage was inflicted upon her. She racked at her brain trying to think of what to do next. Then a thought came to her head.

“ I should inform her partner about this!” She thought, pulling out her work cell and dialing the pink-haired man’s number.

Ring! Ring! Ring! “Hello?” a voice picked up on the other end.

“Mr Hanamaki! This is Ms L/n’s assistant! Something bad has happened here, and we want you to come here right away!” She informed trying to sound professional, but the panic and dread were clear through her trembling voice.

“Something happened to her?! Ok, I’ll be right there.” He said before the phone flatlined. The shaken assistant sighed and looked into the room once again, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

Hanamaki rushed all over the place looking for his keys stumbling out the door with his shoes on the wrong feet, he got in the car and drove off. Normally he was a good driver, but his girlfriend's life was probably at stake, how could he possibly think of anything else but her right now? Thoughts of all the worst-case scenarios flooded his mind What if there was a gas leak that was potentially deadly? Did an explosion happen? Did an experiment backfire? Honestly, he worried about her all the time, with the job she has, anything could happen.

After almost running over a trash can and turning a sharp corner that almost got him arrested he finally reached the facility. He checked in with the receptionist at the front desk and is now climbing the mountain of stairs trying to reach the top floors when a loud boom almost made him fall.

“What was that!?” He thought, even more thoughts came rushing into his head, the sirens and emergency announcement didn’t help either.

“Attention all visitors and faculty members, please exit the facility at once. There is an emergency and all residents need to leave the building immediately.” those lines were repeated over the already loud sirens and a wave of people came flowing down the staircase. Chaos spread as all of them pushed each other, trying to escape the building panicked but Hanamaki stayed persistent looking for his lover.

After a while of struggling he reached the 43rd floor which is where Y/n was supposed to be. He ran down the empty hall looking for her when one of the rooms exploded and sent a giant slab of glass his way, slicing the side of his arm. He groaned, calling your name and clutching his wounded arm until he reached your room, but all he saw was that it was empty and trashed.

“Y/n! Y/n! Where are you!? I’m here!” He yelled, avoiding the wrecked furniture in the halls. A pair of staggered footsteps resounded through the halls, Hanamaki’s head whipped to the source of the sound hopeful, “Y/n!”

“Hehehe~ Looking for your girlfriend huh, pinky~” Derek laughed condescendingly, in his hand he had a metal pipe covered in blood, his face looked psychotic as a wide and sinister smile was apparent. The creases from the painfully looking grin were very prominent and resembled the folds in the fabric when circled and bunched together, but what really got Hanamaki freaking out was the look of bloodlust in his eyes, they were almost predatory like.

Stepping back, the pink-haired man realized he was at a disadvantage, he knew very little in self-defense, had an injured arm, and was pitted against a deranged sadist armed with a metal pipe. So yeah, this was really bad for him. Hanamaki tried thinking of a way to get out when he heard rapid footsteps coming closer, and the sound of feral growling roamed through the halls, his eyes widened hearing the familiar voice. He gasped, “Y/n!”

Then, a loud crash erupted and glass shattered everywhere and a small figure crashed through a glass door and attacked the deranged madman, knocking the pipe out of his hand, you growled smashing your elbow into his face. He grabbed your arm before throwing you across the room, crashing into the wall, grabbing a nearby plant, you hurled it at him before tackling him. You wrestled and bit him. Growling, you rolled the man over before you were able to force him into a nearby room and pushed large groups of debris, locking him inside.

You stopped and stared at the door, breathing heavily, he was not a threat anymore. Vivid images of his deranged face while you were fighting flashed through your head. You growled as the scenes in your head grew more bloody and gruesome until eventually, all you could see was the color red. The screams in your ears began to grow louder as you scratched and you hit at your head, desperately trying to get it to stop, when you heard someone yell, “Y/n! What do you think you’re doing?! Stop!”

Hanamaki tried to run to you when you growled and lunged at him first. He was caught off guard and his head hit the floor as you two fell and pinned him down, growling you were about to attack when the screams began to get quieter, the visions of blood grew fainter and now you could see him clearly, his light skin covered in his blood and dirt, his pinkish-brown hair tousled and dirtied by the crumbling building, his eyes were closed, but somehow you knew they were a nice shade of brown. He seemed familiar to you, but you couldn’t remember what or who he was to you, but all you could feel was a sense of relief when looking at him, your eyes traveled down, looking at him when you saw his injured arm.

You felt a pang in your heart, not knowing what the emotion was, but it didn’t feel good. It made you feel bad. You removed your hand that was pinning him down and you grabbed your jacket and you tried holding it against his wound. You whimpered as it stopped only a little bit, but the red liquid stained the scuffed fabric, it made you panic when you realized it wasn’t stopping. You whined pathetically trying to add more pressure.

Hanamaki looked at you in confusion. What were you doing? Why haven’t you spoken to him yet? Why were you whimpering? Why did you remind him of a small child or a puppy that has gotten in trouble? His head started spinning, his vision blurring, and his eyes starting to get heavy. He couldn’t tell, but his eyes closed and he slipped into unconsciousness.

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

“Y/N!” Hanamaki yelled, sitting up, panting, and sweating. He looked around expecting your guy’s bedroom with you sleeping soundly next to him...but you weren’t there. All he saw was white walls, white ceilings and machines hooked up to his arms, the beeping consistent, showing he was very much alive. He looked around, seeing he was in a hospital room, confused why he was there and not in bed, cuddling with you. He grabbed the remote next to his bed and pressed the call button and he screamed, “Where’s Y/n?!”

[gothpanda]

A Little Bit of Attitude Ch.20: Dirty Little Secret

WORD COUNT: 5.1K

A/N:so sorry if the smut sucks. it was my first time 

WARNINGS: SMUT, DRUGS, (slight) abusive power, and language

TAGS: @madamsixx​

Read On Ao3 

Previous/Next

“I’m sorry?” said Sammi. Her jaw almost dropped to the floor as she stared at Sharise. Sammi’s hearing almost felt like she was going deaf, as if she got hit by a bus. Sharise pulled her ear in nervousness, looking at the ground below her.

“Please don’t get angry,” pleaded Sharise, bringing her hands up to her chest.

Sammi ran her hands through her hair, pushing it out of her face. “How-How pregnant are you? When did you sleep with Vince?!”

“I’m going on four months, it happened back in August. I promise you, I didn’t know he had a girlfriend. Every time he came down to my work, Vince and his friends made it seem like they were bachelors,”  said Sharise.

“Well you sure don’t look pregnant,” muttered Sammi, looking down at Sharise’s stomach.

“Thanks… my mom said it happens when you’re pregnant for the first time,” mumbled Sharise.

“So you didn’t know Vince was in a relationship until the party?” asked Sammi. Sharise nodded with fear, playing with her hands. Sammi only dragged a hand down her face, looking out into the distance of the neighborhood.

“Alright. You can come inside. Vince has to be home,” Sammi walked up to the door, picking out her spare key from her chain. As she pushed the door open, Sammi could hear the tv being played far into the distance of the house. The two women stepped into the house slowly, closing the door to make no noise.

“Vince! I’m home! We need to talk!” yelled Sammi, staring down at the floor and leaning on the staircase. She could see Sharise nervously play with her hair, not knowing if she should be nice to her or hate her so fast. “Vince!” shouted Sammi again.

“I’m coming babe! I’m sorry about today-,” said Vince until silenced as he saw Sharise stand in his foyer. “Sharise? Wha-Wha-What are you doing here” stuttered the blonde man. He looked over to Sammi, seeing the clear coldness in her eyes as she looked between both of them.

“Vince we need to talk about what happened back in August,” said Sharise, straightening her shoulders back.

“What are you talking about? What did we do?” asked nervously Vince, hiding his hands in his jean pockets. Sammi rolled her eyes, shaking her head at Vince.

“Vince, I know you two fucked. You might as well spell it out for Vince, Sharise,” said Sammi. In that instance, Sharise dug through her purse to pull out a yellow envelope with nothing on the front of it.

“I need you to go to the clinic on this document for a paternity test next Monday. Because as of right now I know it’s yours but I need proof,” said Sharise. Vince yanked the envelope out of Sharises hand, ripping it open to see a court order in his name.

“What the fuck Sharise? You can’t be fucking serious?” asked Vince, scrunching his eyebrows at the woman.

“Look this is a two way street and the fact you made it seem you were single makes it worse. Be a fucking man and take responsiblity,” spatted Sharise, biting the inside of her cheek. “I really am sorry Sammi,” Sharise said to Sammi right as she walked out the door to leave the couple. They were silent for a minute, Vince looking at Sammi who dared not see his face.

“Sammi I’m sorry,” uttered Vince, stepping closer to Sammi. She put her hand to stop him from coming closer, showing him her glossy eyes.

“Not even a year, and you couldn’t stop yourself from getting your dick in another woman,” said Sammi, letting out a shaky breath. “I fucking knew something was up when I met her that night. Then come to find out she was from that fucking Tropicana place,”

Vince bit his lip, throwing the envelope far away from him. “It didn’t happen! I swear I didn’t have sex with her!”

“Then why is she fucking get a court order to prove your the dad!? Huh?!”

“I don’t know but I didn’t have sex with her, please believe me, Sammi,” said Vince, grabbing Sammi’s hands. Sammi yanked herself away from Vince’s hold, stepping towards the door. “Please Sammi, I love you!”

“Shut up! And answer me this one question, who would you go to Tropicana with?” asked Sammi, biting her lip.

Vince wrinkled his nose and eyebrows together, “What? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the fucking question,” ordered Sammi, tears on the brink of escaping her eyes.

“Some guys from other bands…”

“Then why the fuck should I believe you knowing you went to a bar without my brother and the other guys? Makes you pretty fucking shady if ask me,” said Sammi, pushing Vince away from her. “If you weren’t doing anything, then at least Tommy would’ve gone with you,”

“I love you. You know that,” pleaded Vince,

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have fucked another woman!” said Sammi right as she shut the door hard in Vince’s face. Sammi stomped to her car, letting tears roll down her face without a care in the world. Once getting into her car, Sammi took a deep breath as she turned on her ignition to tear down the street.

January 17th, 1985

‘5 miss calls and 5 voice messages. New message’ “Sammi please answer. I know to give you your space I need to know everything is okay. I shouldn’t have lied about Sharise. Plea-” * delete*

January 21st, 1985

‘6 miss calls and 3 voice messages. New message’ “I think Tommy is gonna kill me one day. Athena threw her purse at my head when she came to get your stuff. I know I’m gonna be a dad but that doesn’t have to fuck-” * delete*

January 27th, 1985

“Sunny, please talk to me. I fucking miss you. Everything is going to fucking shit with the band and I need you. I need-” * delete*

January 30th, 1985

“Hey Princess it’s Nikki. I know I’ve been a bit M.I.A and kind of a shit head. I just wanted to say I’m sorry about Vince. Trust me I hate his ass too. Call if you need anything. Uh… miss you… ,”

“Hey Sam it’s Mick. Sorry about the Vince shit. Hope to see you soon even if I don’t say it out loud. Later,”

‘No other new messages’

February 2nd, 1985

Shopping bags in one hand and an ice cream cone in another, Sammi and her friends strolled down the busy mall for Emma’s version of therapy. Emma rambled away about her swimming team mates not being a team for once. Sabrina and Sammi laughed along with Emma’s complaining that was purely humorous. Sammi’s attention quickly zoned in on a gossip magazine front and center of a newsstand kiosk right by the girls. She walked right to it, groaned at the sight of a paparazzi photo of her in comparison to Vince and Sharise. Sammi then noticed other magazines with Vince’s face in smaller corners with her right next to him.

“So that’s her face? Was trying to remember what the blonde fucking looked like,” said Emma, walking right next to Sammi and yanked the magazine from the stand for a closer look. Sabrina looked over Emma’s shoulder to read the short headlines to grab readers attention.

“Motley Crue singer leaves girl next door brunette for a busty mud wrestler blonde. What is so different this time around? Read more on page 13,” read Sabrina, frowning in concentration.

“Oh bullshit, I left his ass,” hissed Sammi, throwing her ice cream in the trash before grabbing the magazine for herself.

“Hey! You got to buy those before you read them!” a 20 something year old guy shouted at the girls from his cash register.

“I’m on this stupid magazine, so shut it!” scoffed Sammi, flipping off the sales guy and walking off. Emma withheld a laugh while Sabrina apologized to the man before following Sammi to a bench by the fountain. Sammi flipped through the paper booklet, eyes going wide to see a two page spread on her and Vince. The idea of being around famous guys didn’t hit Sammi until recently. The recent growth in constant rock magazines helped Motley Crue become infamous in the celebrity world. Motley weren’t famous rock stars to Sammi, they were a group of idiots where one of them just so happened to be her brother.

“Well at least you look hot in these photos,” said Emma reading over Sammi’s shoulder.

“Yeah not hot enough to keep Vince around,” mumbled Sammi. Straightening her shoulders, Sammi held the magazine out in front to read out loud. “Singer of heavy metal band Motley Crue apparently isn’t too young to fall in love. Vince Neil was spotted out in Santa Monica with aspiring model Sharise Ruddell. While this may seem like a blossoming romance, is it too soon from his girl next door Samantha Bass? Ew I fucking hate this,” uttered Sammi, handing the magazine to Sabrina to read the rest of it.

“Who the hell told them you were in college for medicine?” asked Sabrina

“Probably rang up a few of our co-workers to get some shit on me,” mumbled Sammi, leaning her head on Emma’s shoulder.

“Well it doesn’t say that Sharise is pregnant if that’s a plus side. It’s basically a comparison of Sharise and you being complete opposites. You’re written as a sweetheart who can do no wrong,” said Sabrina stuffing the magazine in one of her shopping bags.

“Yeah because I have half a brain to not slash all of Vince’s tires. Athena gives enough death stares to him for me,” said Sammi.

“If you want we could stalk him at his favorite hang out spots to throw drinks on him!” cheerful suggested Emma, only getting a stern look from Sabrina and a small chuckle from Sammi.

“No. I think retail therapy is doing its job for right now. I haven’t cried all day so that’s something,” said Sammi, standing up from the bench with a small smile on her face.

“That’s the spirit! Hey since we’re still on the first floor, can we check out Contempo Casuals?” asked Sabrina, wide-eyed like a child asking their mom. Sammi’s face went dead, staying silent at the sound of her old job. Emma curled her lip at Sabrina, thinking of the idea. “Please I need new skirts, I feel like I wear the same ones all the time,”

“That’s because you buy the same ones all time, but that’s okay, S. We still love you,” joked Emma, grabbing Sammi by the hand to bring her to the place she hates the most. “Let’s go!”

*

“Hey Em, that top on the mannequin is totally your style,” pointed out Sabrina as the girls approached the store. Through the windows, Sammi could see Britney in the near front to organize the denim display. She scoffed at the sight of her former friend, not hearing from her for almost a year.

“Hi welcome to Contempo Casuals,” said Britney, smile disappearing at the sight of Sammi, “let me know if you need anything,”

“Yeah, where can I find that yellow top that’s on the mannequin?” asked Emma, hanging her arm around Sammi. Britney didn’t fail to eye Sammi even with Emma and Sabrina around. She studied Sammi’s appearance, seeing how she appeared to be better than the last time Britney saw her. Emma and Sabrina gave each other questioning looks, unaware of the two.

“How’s it going, Sammi?” asked Britney with a smile.

“Great, now can you just answer my friend's question?” demanded Sammi, crossing her arms against her chest, biting the inside of her cheek. “And remember you’re at work so don’t pretended to be Amanda, sweetie,”

Britney inhaled sharply “You can find the blouses on the right in the new arrivals section. If you have any questions, don’t be afraid to ask,” said the blonde as she walked away from them and further into the store.

Sammi gently pushed Emma’s arm off her shoulders, trying to disappear in between the racks of clothes. Emma and Sabrina sandwiched Sammi between them, looking to see if Britney was around.

“Okay spill. Who was that and why did it look like she hated you?” asked Emma, gently placing a hand on her friend's shoulder .

“Long story short, I used to work here and that was one of my former best friends/roommates who sold all my shit after leaving for 5 months on tour,” whispered Sammi, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Both Emma and Sabrina’s eyes went wide, jaws almost dropping to the floor.

“When the hell did this happen?” asked Sabrina with a frown.

“A year ago. It happened right before I met you two and I buried that shit,” muttered Sammi, pouting at the memories.

“How come you never told us you worked here?” asked Emma. Sammi shrugged.

“Is this why you tiptoe around us about hanging out?” asked Sabrina. Sammi nodded with a frown. “Awe Sammi, you shouldn’t have felt like that,” said Sabrina, hugging Sammi with Emma following in her steps.

“Let’s just leave, I can get clothes at another store-”

“Samantha?” announced Britney making Sammi turn around to see the former friend. “Can we talk? Alone?” asked Britney, switching glares at Emma and Sabrina. Sammi gave questioning looks to Emma and Sabrina, getting a nod from Sabrina.

“Fine. You have 2 minutes out in the front,” ordered Sammi. Sammi led the way for Britney, staying cold to her. Emma glared Britney down to her core, making the shorter girl scared of the athlete. Sabrina only forced a smile that had an attitude as Britney walked right out the store.

“What do you want, Britney?” asked Sammi.

 “I just wanted to see how you were. You look great…” said Britney with a hesitant tone. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you…”

“Yeah it has been a while since you and Amanda sold all my shit and kicked me out of the condo that basically belonged to me,” barked Sammi.

Britney dropped her shoulders with a heavy sigh, feeling small from Sammi. “Look I’m sorry I listened to Amanda. I should’ve stopped her from selling your stuff, its just I pissed about you leaving and-,”

“Why were you mad at me in the first place? I don’t get it. For someone who kept encouraging me to be around Tommy and the guys, you definitely flipped a switch,”

“I was jealous. You were getting such a cool new life and I was stuck living in a shadow,” muttered Britney. “I mean the fact you didn’t come back begging for your old job shows something,”

“If you hate living in a shadow then don’t fucking listen to Amanda. She’s not a friend to anyone and only cares about herself. Emma and Sabrina have been better friends to me in a year than you and Amanda,” said Sammi.

“Yeah the tall tan one looks like she was about to hit me. I just wanted to apologize and that’s it. Now we can get back on track to being friends again,” said Britney with a smile.

Sammi curled her lip and raised an eyebrow, “Fuck no. Thanks for the apology but I’m not falling your bullshit,”

“What the fuck? Why not? I would’ve done it if it was the other way around,” said Britney, “We’ve known each other for years!”

“You wouldn’t have to because I’m not a jealous follower like you. This is what happens when you get on my bad side. You fucking stay there. And be a little good employee and tell my friends I’ll be out here waiting for them,” order Sammi, shooing away Britney with her hand.

Britney scoffed at Sammi turning on her heels, “Bitch!” she yelled out.

“Yeah yeah!” shouted Sammi.

*

Thin black heels of leather boots clanked down on the stone driveway of the only gothic mansion in Los Angeles. Sammi ran fingers through her loosely curled hair right as she rang the doorbell.  She swayed her weight from each foot, checking her new black manicure and twisting the rings on her left hand as she waited. Sammi straightened up once hearing the sound of the door unlock. A red lip smile grew on Sammi’s face when seeing Nikki have a surprised look on his face. He smirked at Sammi, but looked past her for anyone else to pop out from behind.

“Surprised to see me?” asked Sammi.

“Only because you came alone. Come on in, Princess. Came to give my jacket back or what?” asked Nikki, stepping aside as Sammi steadily made her way into his room. Sammi took off the jacket on her, aiming straight for the living room. She tossed on a nearby chair, revealing a lowcut halter top. Nikki's eyes trailed to her rear in the tight pants she wore, following like a lost puppy. As Sammi sat on the leather sofa, Nikki poured out two glasses of whiskey, passing her a glass once next to her. “So what brings you to my place?”

“Well you did leave a message on my answering machine. Something about you missing me?” teased softly Sammi, taking a sip of the strong liquor before placing it on the coffee table.

“That was only to cheer you up, clearly it worked if you’re here dressed for a party,” Nikki said in a flirtatious manner.

“Oh so you don’t miss your best friend? Guess I shouldn’t have come for a visit,” playfully said Sammi, getting up from her seat. She took three steps to get reeled into Nikki’s lap, a giggle erupting in her.

“Okay I missed you. Happy to hear in person, Princess?” asked Nikki, slowly sliding his hands to rest on Sammi’s butt. Sammi moved Nikki’s bangs to get a better look at his hazel eyes, seeing dark circles growing around them. Nikki grew tense under Sammi’s tough, swallowing hard in nervousness.

“Yes. Yes I am. You know I’ve never really seen your place. Your vampire cave in the middle of fancy L.A,” said Sammi, glancing around the living room alone.

“We’re adults Sammi. If you want to see my bedroom you can just say so,” said Nikki with a smirk, kissing Sammi on the neck.

“Yeah… I do wanna go to your bedroom. Maybe that’s where you keep the heroin,” said Sammi, her sultry smile turning to a scowl making Nikki tense up from. Sammi got off Nikki’s lap, standing right in front of him with her arms crossed. “Why the fuck are you doing heroin, huh? And taking it to the fucking studio!?” questioned Sammi with sternness in her voice. Nikki rubbed the sweat from his hands onto the sofa, looking away from Sammi.

“Look I’m sorry I gave your shitty boyfriend smack. I really thought it was coke!” yelled Nikki.

“I don’t care about that right now, I just want to know how the fuck you got into heroin! Was coke not enough?” asked Sammi, crouching down to get Nikki to look her in the eye. Nikki only looked above Sammi, not wanting to see her big eyes that could make him melt.

“It just fell into my lap when I was out with some people. It’s not the worst thing,” mumbled Nikki.

“It is the worst thing when it’s coming between you and your fucking job. Do you know how bad Elektra could drop your ass if they saw what happened two weeks ago?” said Sammi in hopes to snap Nikki out of it.

“We bring in money for Elektra so I doubt they’ll want to drop us,” said Nikki.

“Trust me with all the shit you four pull, you fucking lost Elektra money at some point. You can’t bullshit me, Nik, I’m just here to whip your ass into shape. Because I really don’t want all of you to fall,”

“Even with an asshole singer?” smirked Nikki. Sammi chuckled at Nikki, straightened up as she headed towards the upstairs of the house. Nikki’s sense went into instinct mode, eyes glued to Sammi while following her. Sammi glanced into open bedrooms, seeing some rooms a mess until stopping at the master bedroom doors. Nikki’s room was dark like him, red bed sheets almost like Vince but with a different feel. With only the bedside lamp on, Sammi could see an open wooden box on the nightstand. She could see a needle reflect from the yellow light with the baggies of heroin stuffed inside. “Sammi!” Nikki yelled down the hall, making Sammi close the box as she hid it behind her back. Nikki stormed into the bedroom, wide eyes looking around the place. Sammi extended her arm between them to keep a distance when Nikki marched to her.

“Sammi, I’m going to ask just this one time. Give me the box right now,” demanded Nikki, eyes bulging out with flaring nostrils. Sammi was almost scared of what Nikki could do, but didn’t want to back down.

“Nikki, you don’t need heroin okay? We can go to the drug clinic and help you out. They have stuff for-” utter Sammi, stepping away from the bedside slowly to reach the door. Nikki followed every one of Sammi’s movements, only wanting his drugs. He stepped closer to her, Sammi pressing her hand against his chest. Nikki grabbed Sammi by the wrist with force making her jump. She could feel the pressure, wincing at the feeling.

“If you don’t give me that box right now I’m going to rip it out of your hands,” hissed Nikki through his teeth. Sammi swallowed hard at the sight of Nikki, growing scared of him. “You’re a smart girl. Don’t fuck with a mans drugs,” Nikki squeezed Sammi’s wrist tighter, feeling a real sting of pain. Sammi's heart began beating out of her chest, having no thought of how to fix this. She had never been in a dilemma of a man putting their hands on her. In the cases of Vince getting mad, he’d always keep a distance from Sammi to calm down. Was Nikki always like this with girls or wasn’t because of the heroin?

“Nikki let go of my arm, you’re hurting me. Please,” begged Sammi, eyes watering up as she looked up at the man. “You don’t need this shit, Nik. We can do whatever the fuck you want if you just stop with the heroin before it gets bad,”

Nikki let go Sammi’s wrist slowly, running hands through his hair as he stepped away from the girl. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I really am sorry,”  Sammi stayed frozen, only following Nikki’s pacing with her eyes. “I’ll-I’ll-I’ll flush it down the toilet. Okay? There’s only a little bit left, I’ll flush it,” stuttered Nikki, rubbing his chin with anxiety.

“If I give it to you, you’re not gonna run?” asked Sammi, stepping towards the bathroom door. Nikki shook his head, reaching out to Sammi for his special box. In one safe swoop, Sammi ran to the bathroom, slamming the door shut with the lock. Nikki banged on the door hard, yelling out profanity to Sammi. Sammi ripped open all the little baggies over the toilet, feeling gross from the residue that stayed on her finger before finally flushing. She didn’t know what to do with the needles, jumping at the sound of Nikki hitting the wooden door harder. They looked dirty and used, afraid of even touching them. Sammi dumping everything from the box onto the floor, seeing the two needles crack. She stepped on the glass carefully to avoid the sharp metal points.

Sammi had a feeling Nikki would put his hands on her again once she opened the door, standing with complete balance as Sammi unlocked it. From all his body weight on the door, Nikki fell flat on his back against the cold bathroom tile, seeing his needles broken and Sammi looking down at him. He felt like shit for his outburst, catching the sadness in Sammi’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” Nikki mumbled under his breath. Sammi crouched down to Nikki, pushing away his hair from his face with a frown.

“Promise me you’re not gonna try to get it again?” begged Sammi with a whisper. Nikki lifted his upper body up, cupping Sammi’s face with his rough hand. Sammi only sank deeper into Nikki’s tough, giving him the look that affected any man. “Please?”

“I’ll try, Princess,” muttered Nikki, pressing his forehead against Sammi’s. Nikki kissed her forehead right before bringing Sammi’s lips to his. Sammi was hesitant with the kiss yet still fell right into Nikki, wanting him. Their lips danced perfectly in sync together, tongues slipping past each other to grow more in passion. Nikki’s hand trailed down Sammi’s chested, feeling her  left breast fit perfectly in his hand. He began slipping his hand under Sammi’s blouse until she pushed him and stood up over Nikki.

“Nope. Nope. I can’t,” said Sammi, walking out into the dimly lit bedroom. She flipped her hair to one side, Nikki quickly jumping up to follow Sammi. “I can’t just jump on you after my shit with Vince,”

Nikki scuffed at Sammi, gliding his hands on Sammi’s waist to pull her closer to him. “I don’t care about Vince. If you need to be under someone to get your mind off it, it’s perfectly fine,” Sammi pushed Nikki away, rolling her eyes at his words. “Oh come on, Princess you’re telling me you wouldn’t want to take your mind off him. Especially with someone who already knows you oh so well?” said Nikki, dropping feather light kisses on Sammi’s neck. Goosebumps rose on Sammi’s skin, trying her hardest to stand against Nikki.

“Can you really know what I like from only one time?” teased Sammi, tilting her head up with a coy smile. Nikki raised an eyebrow to Sammi, matching her attitude. He lifted Sammi up by her rear only to roughly toss her on his bed. Sammi yelped in enthusiasm, a smile coming on her face. Nikki ripped off Sammi’s heels, moving right above to take her smile away with his lips. Sammi buried her hand in Nikki’s hair with a light grip as their kisses turned hungry. The bassist's hands moved down on Sammi, untying knots that held her top together, slipping the fabric off.  

“Getting daring about not wearing bras anymore are we?,” joked Nikki, kissing down Sammi’s neck & chest until he reached her breasts. Sammi sighed in pleasure, shutting her eyes at the feeling of Nikki’s tongue dance on her nipple. While Nikki’s mouth stayed on Sammi, his hands went down, unzipping her pants as he slid them down with Sammi’s thong as well. Sammi pulled Nikki by his hair to bring him to her eyes, smirking at him while he scowled. In his way to gain dominance back, Nikki placed his hand right between Sammi’s legs, forcefully spreading them open. His finger teased Sammi’s clit ever so lightly, smirking at the sound of her gasps. Sammi arched her back off the bed with a moan, holding onto Nikki’s arm as he stayed playing with her slowly. He realized he didn’t like to rush with Sammi, Nikki enjoyed seeing Sammi become hungry for him, almost begging. Nikki also loved leaving lovebites in places only he knew if Sammi was fully clothed. He sank his teeth on the top of her breast as he inserted one finger into Sammi’s pussy, fingering her slowly gaining louder moans as a reward.

Sammi pulled up the hem of Nikki’s t-shirt, running her hand up Nikki’s chest. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” suggested Sammi, moaning as she did Nikki’s belt. Quickly Nikki stripped himself down to his boxers, Sammi having the pleasure to slip them off him. Sammi brought Nikki down to her lips as he rested right between her legs, hands feeling his toned back muscles to then squeeze his butt. Nikki chuckled under his breath, teasing Sammi’s slit with his hard dick. He smirked to hear Sammi hold back a moan as Nikki slowly inserted himself into her with complete ease from her wetness.

“Uh god,” gasped Sammi, throwing her head back against the pillow. She wrapped one leg around Nikki’s waist, beginning to take rhythm of their hips. With a tight grip, Nikki held onto Sammi’s leg, picking up his pace on her. He hid his face in the nape of Sammi’s neck, heavily breathing on her skin. “Oh Nikki,” moaned Sammi, scratching down Nikki’s back with her sharp nails. “Like it just like this, Princess?” Nikki uttered into Sammi’s ear making a shiver run down her spine. She nodded with pure ecstasy as Nikki rammed faster into, making her curl her toes from pleasure. Her moans became louder & louder, signalling she was so close to cumming as Nikki was. They were in sync the entire time, never missing a beat of their hips meeting faster and faster.

“Fuck!” gasped Sammi, feeling a relaxing numb run all over her body. A short moment later, Nikki groaned in relief while Sammi gave light kisses on his neck. He pulled out of Sammi, dropping himself right next to on the bed with a heavy chested. Sammi rested her arms above her head, breathing heavily with a dopey smile on her face. Nikki brought Sammi close to his chest, his fingers drawing figure 8’s on her bare forearm. They stayed silent for a good while, Sammi messing with the pendant of Nikki’s necklace. A necklace Sammi randomly bought him for his birthday. “I can’t believe we just did that,” mumbled Sammi on Nikki’s chest, still smiling.

Nikki chuckled, trying his best to stay relaxed right here. “You knew what you were doing coming in here dressed to kill,”

Sammi rested her chin against Nikki’s chested, playfully smirking at him. “I knew it would get your attention talk,”

“I really am sorry about grabbing you like that. I’ll make it up to you,” muttered Nikki, playing with a lock of the brunette's hair.

“Oh the sex wasn’t your way of making it up to me?” jokingly asked Sammi making Nikki smile with her. “It’s okay, just try to keep your promise and maybe you’ll be rewarded,”

“Oh?” asked Nikki, raising an eyebrow with his infamous smirk. “Is this gonna be our dirty little secret then?”

Sammi shuffles up, tenderly kissing Nikki and feeling his hand cup her cheek. She could feel the difference of kissing Vince to Nikki immediately, their personalities coming to light from under Sammi’s touch.

“Just don’t fuck it up, Nik,”

“I’ll try princess,” muttered Nikki, moving them both on their side. Nikki wrapped his arms around Sammi’s waist, spooning her as he hid his face in hair. Sammi kissed Nikki’s hand one last time before drifting off to sleep.

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 15 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: ! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Bang Time.  

This Chapter: It’s party time when Fame finally approves the new Spring line. Also: Trixie paints, Courtney gets a windfall, and an out of town visitor stops by.  

Reminder: Indonesian is indicated with brackets [like this.]

***

On Thursday morning, a roar sounded through Galactica, as Fame had finally approved the last of the changes to the spring collection. Trixie blasted “We Are the Champions” on repeat as he popped several bottles of champagne, serving it to everyone in everything from empty Starbucks cups to glass jars as they were finally, finally, finally free after more than three weeks of constant soul crushing hope smashing hard work.

“Trixie, it’s Alyssa for you,” Kandy told him, pointing to the phone beside him, line one flashing green.

He rolled his eyes and picked up. “Hello?”

“Sir. Please turn off that hideous straight boy noise and bring your team upstairs to join us for a real party,” Alyssa said. “We still have almost an hour before the meeting and I think a little dancing is in order.”

“Fine, fine,” Trixie laughed. “We’re coming now. But I really don’t think you can call Queen ‘straight boy noise.’”

“Whatever. Just come up!” Alyssa gave him a definitive tongue pop before hanging up the phone.

Trixie turned to his employees. “Party upstairs in marketing!”

“What about the Fashion Week meeting?” asked Blu anxiously.

“That, my dear, is a problem for our future selves.”

***

Pearl sat in her office, her legs on her desk as she folded paper planes and then threw them into her trash can, while listening to The Clash, trying to drown out the disco that was blasting from the bullpen.

Pearl didn’t respond to the knock on the door, but Trixie opened it anyway, a smile on his face.

“The Clash? Really?”

“Shut up, I’m heartbroken.” Pearl held up her hand, flipping him off before leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes, turning up her music.

Trixie signed.

“You’re not heartbroken.”

“Am so.”

“Stop pouting, Pearl. You know how many girls you’ve been a dick to? So this one doesn’t want you. Well, serves you right.”

Pearl cracked an eye open, her nose crinkling into a frown.

“It does! So come on...we’re going to join the others, and you’re gonna have a couple of drinks and get over yourself. Fashion Week is coming up and we need you to be on your A game.”

Trixie held open the door, beckoning her to follow.

With a groan, Pearl begrudgingly stood up and followed Trixie out of her office.

“Shut up, I’m always on my A game.”

“As if.”

They both laughed, Trixie putting his arm around Pearl as he ushered her towards the celebration.

***

“No, you can’t go.”

“But Violeeet,” Courtney whined, laying over her desk, looking at Violet with gigantic puppy dog eyes. Everything in their office was basically shaking along to the rhythm of “It’s Raining Men” from the floor below. “Pleeease.”

“No.”

“Why do they get to party, and not us? It’s not fair!”

“Because it’s our time to work now, so be quiet and get to it, there are a tough few weeks ahead.”

Even though Violet’s words were harsh, Courtney didn’t feel cut by them; she didn’t even feel intimidated by the fact that Violet apparently didn’t think of the last two weeks as tough. She was too proud of the fact that she’d finished all of the packets for the marketing meeting--and early, too.

She closed the final folder with a flourish.

“All done!”

“Already? Good job.” Violet stood up and walked to her desk, picking up one of the folders, brow wrinkling. “Why is it so light? Did you forget one of the sections?” She opened the folder and began to look through.

“No, it’s all there! I triple-checked!” Courtney chirped happily.  

“Courtney.” Violet closed her eyes. “Did you print the meeting materials duplex?”

The way Violet spat out the word, it sounded like a slur, and Courtney was confused. It made perfect sense to her to print everything double-sided. She’d saved over two reams of paper that way.

“Well, yeah. I figured we’d save a ton of paper if-”

“Did I ask you to print duplex? Huh?” Violet demanded, slamming the folder down.

“No, but I thought-”

“Well luckily for all of us, it’s not your job to think, because you’re not very good at that, are you? It’s your job to follow instructions!”

Courtney nodded slowly, the light in her completely turned off compared to the happy, bubbly girl she had been only moments before.

“I’m sorry, Violet. I’ll redo them.” Courtney picked up the master documents again, biting her lip.  

Violet instantly felt bad, like she had kicked a puppy.

“You know what? It’s fine. Maybe no one will notice,” Violet sighed. “Why don’t you go join the party while I prepare the boardroom for the Fashion Week meeting?”

Courtney lit up, the smile reappearing on her face.

“Really?! But you just said-”

“Yes really, now go before I change my mind. Have fun. You have 30 minutes.”

“Thank you!”

***

Pearl was in a horrible mood. The boardroom was filled to the brim with people from every department. There were even a few interns squeezed around the perimeter of the conference table, and it made the room cramped and uncomfortable to be in.

Pearl had been fuming on the inside since last Sunday where Violet had closed her door right in her face. No one had ever done anything like that to Pearl, and what was worse, she didn’t even know why.

Violet was tripping around the edge of the boardroom, clearly anxious since she had little to no control of the situation. Normally everything would have been perfectly crisp, neat and organized which were not the words anyone could use to describe the situation they were in now. Pearl smiled, satisfied, to herself when she could see Violet practically scream on the inside when Kim Chi dropped part of her meatball sub on the table, using her meeting agenda to wipe the sauce away.

Pearl leaned back in her chair, everything suddenly a lot less irritating now that Violet was officially losing it.

***

“Alyssa, I want invites sent out as soon as possible, you can borrow Laganja to get it done. Trixie, I know you have worked incredibly hard but I need you through the home stretch. Prepare a backstage team for Fashion Week, I want everything double and triple checked. Pearl, find every contact you can and make them aware of our show. Violet confirmed the location yesterday and has found a garden team that can hopefully transform our venue into the tropical jungle we wanted. Ivy, I expect you to run the style department for the next few days while we rebook our models, and yes Trixie, we will try to stay close to your vision. Raja is pulling in favors right now and we hope we can get everything confirmed Monday. You’re dismissed. Oh, and Kim, please clean up after yourself before you leave.”

***

Trixie stepped out of his taxi, looking around as he put his wallet into his fanny pack, then feeling guilty about it. Katya swore up and down that the Bronx neighborhood where she taught was perfectly safe, but he always found himself a little nervous there regardless. Nothing could ruin his mood today though, he was finally free after weeks of constant sewing, of spending countless hours in the fabric district looking for just the right shade, to endless phone calls with their suppliers, tailors and the long discussions with the botanist at The Royal Botanic Garden in Kew in England trying to get a hold of Marianna Norths original drawings.

He went through the side gate into the playground, heading for Katya’s classroom when he spotted her. She was on the east side of the schoolyard, her blonde hair collected in a high ponytail, her feet in wellies and a pair of overalls on, painting the wall in front of her. Right now Katya was working on a giant sun, so her hands, clothes and hair were covered in yellow and orange shades of paint.

“Hey Miss! I don’t have a library card, but do you mind if I check you out?”

“What?!”

Katya turned around, hands on her hips, trying to cover up a clearly amused expression with her most serious Scolding Teacher face, until she realized that it was Trixie who had called to her.

“Sugarbutt!!” Katya ran over to Trixie, her shoes making a whoosh sound with each step before she jumped into Trixie’s arms, covering the both of them in paint. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re finally finished with the collection, so I came to see you.”

Trixie laughed as Katya clung to him like a tiny koala cub, the two of them enjoying being in each other’s company again after way too long without actually seeing each other.

“What are you up to here?” Trixie smiled, looking up at Katya, kissing her nose and the paint there.

“I’m painting! Look!” Katya wiggled until Trixie put her down. She pointed to the wall of the building, which was half gray concrete and half an explosion of color.

“I’m painting the ocean.” Katya smiled brightly. “This will be the coral reef and over here is the sunken ship with the scaaaarry ghosts and then way over there.” Katya pointed, “I’ll make Atlantis with all different kinds of mermaids!”

Trixie looked around, the wall was truly gigantic, his own smile matching Katya’s. “So you finally got the budget?”

“Well, not exactly.” Katya had grabbed her paintbrush again, continuing on the sun. She’d been lobbying her principal for the last year to get funding to decorate the courtyard where the youngest students spend their breaks.

“What do you mean not exactly?”

“We didn’t have the funds to buy the paint or hire a painter, so now I’m doing it myself!”

“Katya, are you committing vandalism on your own school?!”

“No, no of course not!” Katya held up her hands. “ I made a deal with the principal. I pay for the materials and do the painting myself.”

“And what’s his side of the deal? What do you get?”

“Um...a pretty wall for the kids?” Katya smiled, clearly unbothered by the free labor she was doing if it would brighten her students’ day.

“Well, in that case...” Trixie smiled, picking up one of the brushes. “What part do you want me to work on?”

“We need a colony of clown fishes over there.”

“Colony of clown fishes coming right up Ms. Zamolodchikova!” Trixie did a mock salute, immediately starting to fill out the sketches that Katya had done.

“Hey Trixie...”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

Courtney was sitting at her computer, absentmindedly checking Facebook and drinking a coconut water, enjoying the rare peace and quiet even though she knew she should be working; Violet had given her a spreadsheet with a massive list of names to confirm for Fashion Week, and she was only a third of the way through.

But on the other hand, Violet was out of the office, taking a trip to the tailors for Fame, who was at a charity function with Patrick, so the office was completely quiet. And there was no harm in a tiny break, right?

The door opened and Courtney jumped, quickly minimizing Safari and pulling up the Fashion Week Spreadsheet, pretending to be working.

“Hey Courtney.” Ivy smiled, the other’s teal shirt making her red hair look stunning.

Courtney breathed a sigh of relief that it was just her, even though she’d never been fully at ease with Ivy. She had just never met anyone else who was as genuinely sweet and upbeat as the girl who was standing in front of her.

“Hey Ivy!” Courtney smiled as soon as she got herself under control. “What’s up? Fame isn’t here right now, and neither is Violet…”

“Oh, I know.”

“You do?” Courtney wrinkled her brow, looking at the overflowing shopping bags Ivy had placed on her desk. “Then what’s all of this? Are they for Fame? Should I store them here?”

“No Courtney,” Ivy laughed, pushing the bags towards Courtney. “They’re for you.”

“Really?!” Courtney looked into the bags and squealed happily. “Ivy… These are… These are real designer things!”

“I cleaned out the Warehouse, and most of this is too out of date to use for the website or shoots, so you’re welcome to take whatever you want.” Ivy smiled at Courtney’s enthusiasm, not telling her that the bags in front of her were mostly filled with the clothes that no one else wanted. But Ivy knew that Courtney would appreciate it--she’d seen the young assistant repeat articles of clothing enough times to know that her closet was nowhere near as full as most of their coworkers.

Courtney grabbed a purse. “Oh my god! This is Marc Jacobs! And what are these? Banana Republic pants!” Courtney smiled, her enthusiasm making Ivy laugh while Courtney emptied out all of the bags, acting like a kid on Christmas as she clapped her hands in happiness over the Stuart Weitzmen shoes and Badgley Mischka dresses. And best of all, loads of Galactica pieces that she would never have been able to afford on her own. Finally, she’d be able to really fit in--and toss the tired black pencil skirt from Target that she’d worn about 4 times over the past few weeks.

Courtney looked up at Ivy, tears in her eyes.

“Thank you… Seriously… Thank you so so much Ivy.”

“Don’t mention it, we girls gotta look out for each other.”

***

SUTAN: Hey. Are you there?

VIOLET: Yes, why?

Sutan smiled and leaned back into his chair. It was a little after eight, and Sutan was pretty sure he was the only person left in the office, not that he minded. His days often going by in a blur of everyone and their mother needing something, so it was nice to have the place to himself, giving him time to think.

SUTAN: Dinner at Annisa tomorrow?

VIOLET: Can’t. Busy.

Sutan wrinkled his brow. Busy? He stood up, getting a cigarette from his drawer before he opened the window, leaning out of it as he returned to his phone.

SUTAN: How hard is Fame riding you over there if you can’t go out?

VIOLET: I think the question is how you’re not busy, Fashion Week is in 10 days?

Sutan snorted. Fashion week was indeed in 10 days, as if anyone would let him forget it.

VIOLET: I want to have time. I promise.

***

“To Karl!”

Fame laughed, the sounds of the groups glass clinking together filling the bar, Karl was smiling brightly as they toasted the man clearly enjoying the fact that he was the center of attention for the night, everyone treating him like a wayward son, even though he had been in New York two weeks earlier.

“So, what’s new in London?” Raja smiled, easily falling into conversation with Karl, who adored entertaining.

Fame loved drinks night with her friends. When they were in their twenties they had met up several times a week, but by now it was a miracle if she could get all of them together once a month for a weeknight cocktail or two.

Juju and Detox hadn’t been able to make it, but with a teenager and twins toddlers, they were somewhat excused.

Fame took a sip of her drink, allowing herself to just sink back and fully enjoy the sounds and laughs of her favorite people talking and laughing together, the sounds of her husband’s chuckle next to her feeling like a warm blanket as she leaned against his side.

“So is no one else going to point out what’s going on with Sutan?” Bianca asked.

Everyone turned their attention to Sutan, who looked up from his phone, a smile quickly fading from his face.

“What?”

“Why do you look like that?” Bianca smiled, the woman clearly beyond entertained as she leaned on her hand, her finger twirling on the stem of her wine glass.

“Look like what?” Sutan put his phone down, and it didn’t escape Fame’s notice that he made sure to flip his screen to the table. Maybe he did actually have something to hide.

“I don’t know, weird,” Bianca said.

“I don't look weird, you look weird,” Sutan retorted childishly, which made Bianca cackle and attempt to kick him under the table.

“She's right,” Raja said, head tilted. “You do look weird. You're all…”

“Smiley?” asked Karl, taking a handful of peanuts from the table.

“Yes! That's it! It's creepy,” said Bianca.

“My smile is not creepy!” Sutan groaned. “Why are we even talking about me?”

“Don’t listen to them.” Karl smiled, which earned him a squeeze on his arm from Sutan.

“Thanks, Karl.”

“It is a little bit creepy,” Raven chimed in.

Fame giggled.

“See?” asked Bianca. “Even Raven agrees, and we all know her favorite pastime is arguing with me.”

Raven threw her hair over her shoulder, and Fame was very pleasantly surprised that she wasn’t going to argue that point. Bianca and Raven were almost always throwing insults at each other, and while it was entertaining most of the time, it also got very draining in the long run.

"Raven, remember that I'm your boss.”

"Manager," she corrected.

"Boss. Now pack up the attitude." Sutan folded his arms, feigning seriousness, but a hint of his dopey smile remained.

Fame leaned forward, telling him, “I think your smile is beautiful, Tan.”

“Thank you!”

“Yikes,” Raven muttered, making Bianca snicker.  

“You know what, it is beautiful! Fuck all the rest of you, except you Karl, you can stay.”

“Thanks man.” Karl gave Sutan’s cheek a kiss, which made him roll his eyes and growl.

“See, now you look normal,” Bianca declared, gesturing to his now sullen pout, no one noticing the flash of hurt on Karl’s face.

***

[So.] Sutan almost wanted to sigh at the sound of his sister’s voice, Raja sliding in next to him at the bar. [What’s going on with you?]

Raja was stunning in her black jumpsuit with a green top underneath, heavy golden jewelry on her arms, her long hair styled with tiny braids that made her look like a warrior goddess.

[Nothing is going on.] Sutan picked up his beer, hoping that his sister would leave him alone, but he was never that lucky.

[Please.] Raja smiled. [You’ve never been able to lie to me, Tantan.]

[I don’t know what you’re talking about.]

[You’re seeing someone.]

[Wha-] Sutan groaned, realizing that the battle was probably lost for good. He sat down, and Raja took a seat next to him, his sister flagging the bartender for a drink. [How did you know?]

[Are you asking me that?] Raja raised an eyebrow. [I know you, brother dear. The smiles, the texting, the fact that you suddenly couldn’t make dinner last week-]

[I told Raven at work-] Sutan guessed that he had technically told Raven in passing, but what was a sister in law worth if he couldn’t send messages along.

[So who is she?] Raja smiled.

Sutan opened his mouth to explain Violet, the ever mysterious, beautiful weird new girl in his life, but then realized he couldn’t. And further, he didn’t want to. He was enjoying having her all to himself right now, and not terribly anxious to break the spell.

[Let me keep this one.]

Raja raised an eyebrow. [So it’s serious?]

Sutan shrugged, and Raja kissed his cheek.

[I love you,] she said. [Even when you’re pretending to be mysterious.]

Sutan smiled.

[I love you too.]