#we have 1 remote that works for the tv and we can confirm the whole time it was on the windowsill

[brain-empty]

oh btw either our tv got hacked or theres more evidence to this place being haunted

[orionsangel86]

SPN Conspiracies - Applying Logic to Chaos

Its been over 2 months now since the Supernatural finale aired. I am still so angry, hurt, and confused by it and I don’t think I will ever get closure unless someone like Andrew Dabb, or Jensen Ackles, actually opens up and gives us an explanation that makes sense.

What annoys me most right now is people trying to gaslight fans into believing that we should accept the narrative we have been given at face value: That the finale was always planned to be that way, that Destiel was never on the cards, that there was no Network interference, that the only changes made were due to covid and were minor at best.

This harmful gaslighting is FALSE.

NO ONE KNOWS THE TRUTH OF WHAT HAPPENED.

Look, I don’t agree with some of the crazier conspiracy theories. I don’t believe that there was some huge campaign among the CW Network execs to remove anything remotely gay out of homophobia. I don’t believe that the finale was changed because of some desire to make it into a Walker promo. I don’t believe that the finale was really bad on purpose in protest by Dabb for not getting to do an ending he truly wanted. I don’t believe that Dabb left us smart fans a bunch of secret messages in the finale to hint that he was on our side all along and that everything was fake.

I do, however, believe that all of these conspiracy theories have some elements in them that are plausible. At least, more plausible than the bullshit narrative mentioned above that some people are pushing in some desperate attempt to defend the Network (which imo is really strange behaviour anyway - why would anyone care about a TV network with a history of terrible behaviour?!?)

We have facts, based on information provided before the covid lockdown, which for some reason, people like Misha have since backpeddled on. So let me try to outline some of the information that makes no sense.

Below the cut I go on a deep dive into the conspiracies and statements I have heard about the SPN finale and try to make some sense of this whole fucked up situation. It gets long.

1. “Cas was never gonna be in the finale”.

False: We have many fan accounts of Misha confirming that he was filming the finale. We have video evidence of Misha confirming he was going back to film the finale after the lockdown. We have confirmation from fans in Misha M&Gs from March that he had about 5 days of filming left.

We also had fan accounts of discussions with Alex Calvert (I think) where he confirmed the final shot of the final episode was all four of them though I would LOVE if someone can find a source for this.

2. Okay, Misha was gonna be in the finale, but only as Jimmy Novak

False: I heavily side eyed Misha when he said this. But I think I can come up with a plausible explanation for it. Per above, Misha was supposed to film for 5 days. This does not align with the half a day he described of filming as Jimmy Novak. My own belief is that after Cas was cut from the finale (for whatever reason we don’t know) someone (probably Jensen Ackles) put up a fight and complained that Misha should be there for the final episode. The writers probably tried to come up with a way to bring Misha back without having to deal with Cas, and pitched the idea of Jimmy Novak being in Heaven. Misha, obviously annoyed about this, turned this stupid pitch down.

3. Destiel was never a thing, never planned, never part of Dabb’s ending. Bobo and Misha pushing the confession was the part of the season that was Wrong.

False: We have a SPN writer on record saying that Castiel’s confession was the first thing written for Season 15 when the writers returned to the writers room. If it wasn’t planned, why was it the first thing written, why does it align so well with the rest of season 15? Look I know some people either a. hate destiel and refuse to see it even if it slaps them in the face, or b. have major heteronormative goggles on, or c. are just homophobes in denial, but 15x18 fits in perfectly with the narrative of season 15. Everything Cas says, everything that happened in that scene was so in character it just works. It fit. If you just rewatch the season whilst applying some critical thinking skills and pay attention to the narrative and character arcs, trust me, the confession fits in with pretty much every other plot point, and character story in the season.

Also: We have known for a while that the network did market research into Destiel, wanting to know if it would go down well or not. They were well aware of its popularity and considering it. Where would this have come from if not pitched by the showrunner? Dabb must have at least been considering it. If you take all of Dabb era into consideration, starting with mid season 11, all the way through the season 12 build up, season 13 grief arc, and then Bobo’s Destiel break up arc in late season 14, early season 15, it is clear that there was some toing and froing on the issue of Destiel, but ultimately, I still believe that Dabb was on board. He wrote 13x01 for christs sake. No way he wasn’t taking it seriously.

 4. It’s always been about the brothers. The finale just stays true to what Supernatural is all about.

*rubs temples* Fundamentally FALSE: The show has time and again reasserted the message of “Family don’t end with blood”, as well as the messages of AKF and YANA. Sam and Dean may be at the heart of the show, but a heart can’t exist without a body to support it. Without bones, and lungs, and blood, and muscles, and a BRAIN. The finale abandons the shows core messages. It forces the characters back into their season 1 characterisations and the whole thing becomes hollow and souless. But I’m not here to complain, I’m here to lay down the facts. Dean’s heaven was supposed to be surrounded by loved ones right? We know OG Charlie Bradbury was gonna be in his Heaven, we also know CAS was gonna be in there. So this idea that the finale as it currently stands was how it was meant to be is wrong. Dean was supposed to die and reunite with his found family and loved ones. This alone would have been a far better ending than the one given. Do I think this was solely a covid issue? Fuck no.

The randoms that WERE in the finale are proof alone that they could have got people in and quarantined. We also have several actors on record saying that they WOULD have quarantined for the finale had they been asked to return but they WEREN’T.

Lies have been told. Samantha Ferris and Chad Limberg have confirmed that we have been lied to about the original plans for the finale.

This alone is proof enough that there is more plausibility in some of the conspiracy theories than any bullshit narrative some people are pushing in defence of the barbaric mess of a finale we were given.

So lets address some of the conspiracy theories now:

Conspiracy No.1: The CW Network reviewed Supernatural during the covid break, and due to homophobia, refused any Destiel arc that wasn’t already filmed, shut down any potential reciprocation from Dean, and forced Dabb to change his finale.

I don’t think this is entirely what happened. But I do think it is very strange how there is a such a huge disconnect particularly in Dean’s characterisations between what had come before the lockdown, and what came after. The one fact we have here, and please someone provide a source if you can find it because I know there is one, the finale script was still going through changes up to only 2 weeks before it was filmed. We know that there was some weird editing in 15x18 (which was still in post and uncompleted before lockdown) and we know from Jensen’s own mouth that there was more to the confession scene on Dean’s side that was cut. We also know that this isn’t the first time that Destiel heavy moments have been changed in post - the prayer scene is another big scene that went through a lot of changes and Bobo fought to have his script play out the way he wanted it.

There are certain things that in my own opinions, are basically true of SPN which I have put together from years of keeping one eye on the writers room, the network, and all the various comments made. My opinion is this:

The writers room has always been split on Destiel. Some writers heavily supported making it canon, others did not care, or were against it.

The Network considered it over the course of several years, did market research, green lit it, then changed their minds, possibly several times over the course of Dabb’s era. Destiel was pitched to the Network early in Dabb era.

The crew on set were also split. Some people heavily supported it, and worked to assist the reading, whereas others did not care/did not support it. The same can be said for the editing room.

Bob Singer supported the subtextual homoeroticism, but never supported bringing it into text (this is an opinion, but I think it aligns with everything we know about him.) IMO Bob Singer also supported subtextual homoeroticism between Sam and Dean - the guy is gross is what I’m saying. He isn’t exactly a progressive person.

Fun fact - a while back our old enemy Sera Gamble went on a Twitter rant about writers rooms and the ways a script goes through changes. I don’t think this was in relation to the SPN finale wank but she basically inadvertantly confirmed that the Network can step in and make sweeping changes to a script if they want to and if they decide they don’t like the direction of a story. Sera Gamble confirmed this as a fact.

Now. I’m not saying that this is what the CW did with Destiel. I just think its very strange how pre lockdown, the last thing filmed is a heartfelt homosexual declaration of love between Dean and Cas, and we have a finale script that Misha had not seen, but knew that he was meant to film as Castiel for 5 days (5 days on set is over half of an episode as far as I know). Then all of a sudden, Covid happens, and Cas is cut from the finale completely, a desperate attempt to bring Misha back only as Jimmy Novak takes place, which Misha rightly refuses, leading to a finale which makes zero sense narratively and appears in every way completely and utterly butchered.

The only explanation provided by anyone involved is that Covid meant changes had to happen - but that covid didn’t change the actual story at all.

But this makes no sense because we know that Cas was cut from the finale. This is FACT. Do not let anyone gaslight you into thinking otherwise. Misha was preparing to quaranting to return to set as Cas post Covid, so whatever happened to cut Cas from the finale, it wasn’t Covid.

I’m gonna have to Occum’s Razor this and say that the most logical explanation here is the one that is most likely true. Someone got cold feet with the Destiel story, and to prevent any possible interpretation that included Dean reciprocating, any hints of Destiel were removed from the finale script, including Castiel’s whole appearance.

Now, this isn’t me saying I think that Dabb’s original finale was full of Destiel love confessions and a homosexual kiss or whatever, but I am asking you all to really think about it and ask yourselves WHY Cas would have been totally cut from an episode he was supposed to be in at LEAST half of? 

We will probably never know the real reason Cas was cut, but he WAS cut. I’m not saying it was all homophobia, but some fuckery went down.

Conspiracy No. 2: The CW Network changed the finale to make it into a Walker promo because they only cared about raising up Jared and not Jensen and Misha as they were losing them anyway.

I don’t agree with this in terms of the finale being butchered solely to make it into a Walker promo. There are however moments in the finale that are clearly supposed to be Walker Easter Eggs and added to excite fans of Jared/Sam in particular such as Sam’s gratuitous and unnecessary topless scene, as well as the call on the “case in Austin”.

I will take this moment to say something pretty damn controversial though.

*Deep breath*

The fact is, Dean Winchester has been the “lead” character of Supernatural’s narrative for years now, with Sam often being sidelined and not given great storylines himself. Even in Season 15, right up until the finale, I myself felt bad for Sam sometimes because so much of this show has become all about Dean. Jensen Ackles is clearly the better actor when it comes to emotional story arcs, so the emotional heart of the story has most often leant on him.

So you can understand my confusion, when this is turned on its head in the final episode, to make Sam carry all the emotional weight, and have the most lines/screentime, and story resolution (even if his story resolution was just as crappy as Dean’s).

If we pretend that Destiel is not a thing, and ignore Cas’s confession, the story change in the finale from Dean focus to Sam focus is still rather suspicious. Again, I’m not saying I completely approve of or agree to the conspiracy theory that Walker influenced the butchering of the script, but I can believe that perhaps a note went down from the CW to someone like Bob Singer, to emphasise Sam/Jared more than they perhaps would normally, because the CW wanted to shine the spotlight on Jared to raise excitement for Walker.

I can also believe this note might have said something like “we wanna cater to fans of Sam/Jared the most - don’t do anything to piss them off.” but now I am getting into my own conspiracy theories so by all means dismiss this as me being bitter.

Conspiracy No.3: Dabb purposely made it bad, as a secret message to Destiel fans that he had been silenced, by layering meta clues into the episode that he knew fans would notice.

I doubt this one is true. Though some of the theories are quite compelling. The old vampire silent movie theory for instance starts off quite well, but loses me the moment it brings up Urban Dictionary slang.

Sometimes I have just had to accept that Supernatural is a bad show that is sometimes accidentally a masterpiece. However, some writers really did go That Deep with their stories - anything by Ben Edlund or Steve Yockey for instance, their episodes are meta masterpieces with a hundred different layers of beautiful subtextual storytelling and are a joy to analyse. Bobo Berens has certainly done some A+++ work especially now we KNOW that he was working hard all this time to bring Destiel to canon text (so any analysis of Destiel in the subtext in his episodes is very accurate). There have been many other key elements analysed over the years which have been confirmed true. Cas’s death in Season 12, Dean’s time as a demon in season 10, Season 11 ending in unity of dark and light, these were all plot points predicted by meta writers just by analysing the narrative. Sometimes the writers really have been very smart and they do add things to the show to aid us in our meta.

Richard Speight Jr for instance, confirmed that SPN has a visual library that the production team use to give clues and hints in the narrative. Pizza, for example, always means a lie has been told. Whenever Pizza is being eaten or even just mentioned on screen, there is dishonesty in that particular moment.

The beers also have a very specific message and the one thing I can’t let go about the finale, was that Dean was drinking El Sol beer. The beer his dad gave him, that was terrible.

El Sol has been used in the show to indicate something being wrong, a fake reality, or another lie, for the longest time. It is the beer of deception.

The fact that in the final episode of this entire show, Dean is in Heaven, supposedly at peace, and then he gets handed an El Sol beer to drink? Thats a HUGE red flag for any meta writer watching who can read SPNs visual library.

If they had given him the Margiekugel beer of family then it would make sense. Dean is in Heaven, with Bobby, his family, at peace. Margiekugel should have been the beer of choice. But nope. El Sol. Something is wrong.

I don’t know if it was Dabb, or Singer, or some disgruntled ADs and crew members who added these elements into the finale, but their very presence confirms some message of Wrongness.

I could go into a huge rant about Vampire Mimes not making sense and the very glaringly obvious symbolism of cutting out peoples tongues too, but that is high school level film analysis. It’s obvious. It means to silence someone. There is validity in interpreting this as Dabb saying he was silenced. I don’t know how true it is, but i can’t 100% dismiss it, because as I said, this is high school analysis levels of obvious subtextual storytelling.

So in summary, whilst I don’t think that Dabb intentionally went out of his way to sabotage his own script, and leave a breadtrail of secret messages for savvy fans to put together to confirm that he was silenced by an evil network into not getting what he wanted... I do think that there is validity in questioning these odd choices for the finale. Cutting out tongues? Vampire Mimes? El Sol beer?

The evidence is somewhat compelling is all I’m saying. I don’t believe the full conspiracy theories, but as I have said many times before, some fuckery went down.

So What Do I Believe?

That some fuckery went down and whatever company line they are pushing is bullshit.

I believe that the original script included Cas (since thats fact). I believe that the original script probably always had Dean dying on a vampire hunt (due to Jensen’s issues with it and in particular, his sarcastic comments about vampires in the past year or so which in hindsight are hilarious and prove he never really came to terms with Dean’s idiotic death). I believe Dabb’s original script was some less crappy version of what we got, which potentially included showing Jack rescuing Cas from the Empty and resolving the outstanding Empty plot points (potentially this was actually a 15x19 plot since Mark P commented that his final scenes were supposed to be with Jack and Cas), had Cas reunite with Dean in Heaven and had them have a discussion about Cas’s confession. I believe that there was probably a lot of back and forth over how to handle that with some people wanting Dean to obviously reciprocate and others believing they should keep it ambiguous. I believe that Dean and Cas would have reunited with Charlie Bradbury, and Bobby Singer, and possibly others (though if this was the case it must have been very early on since no one ever looped in Sam Ferris, Chad Linberg or any other Roadhouse people).

I believe that Sam’s ending probably didn’t change much, but I do feel that initially they were planning on him ending up with Eileen, because it is the only thing that narratively makes sense. Cutting Eileen and giving him a blurry wife is something I won’t ever understand and Jared’s bullshit explanations are quite clearly pulled out of his ass to appease bronly types. I believe the reunion on the bridge would have included Cas and Jack, with a final shot of all four of them together, at peace (as this aligns with Alex’s comments from around a year or so ago that the final shot was all four of them). (I also am not sure it was always supposed to be on a bridge since the foreshadowing in an earlier episode showed Dean, Cas and Sam all in the Roadhouse together).

I believe that script went through countless changes and redrafts, and not even production people or the types that some fandom people claim as their “sources” would even have seen those early scripts, since even Misha never saw it. I believe that these rumours of Dabb never having Cas in his finale and ignoring all Destiel elements likely come from people who only saw later versions, weren’t party to network discussions and felt bitter about the final scripts they did see (being the crappy butchered one that was ultimately filmed). Those “sources” are now spreading rumours to discredit Dabb.

I obviously believe Dabb is a weak ass pushover who either didn’t care enough to fight back, or gave up since he’s been stuck with fucking Bob Singer on his back for years, but I will NEVER believe he didn’t care about the DeanCas love story, because he has been one of the few writers who has championed for it for years. You can’t look back at Dabb’s episodes in earlier seasons and claim he didn’t care. Dabb was a writer whose creative ideas were beaten out of him by an unforgiving Network only concerned about where their future money was coming from. Do I think he gave up too easily? Yes. But I also have one other huge reason for not believing the bullshit about Dabb being this anti-Destiel villain.

Bobo. Because if Bobo truly believed Dabb was gonna fuck that up at the end, I don’t think he would have given us Cas’s love confession to begin with. If he had known it was gonna end like that, I think he would have reconsidered, because had Cas not confessed his love, I don’t think he would have been cut from the finale. Bobo - a gay man, would not have wanted such a horrible message for queer fans being put across in the show he worked so hard on. He started writing that confession scene the day they returned to the writers room. Dabb would have been there, would have seen what he was writing, probably discussed it with him, after all, other episodes were written with the confession in mind. No way was Dabb planning to fuck up the ending knowing what Bobo was giving us. Nope.

Something went very wrong over lockdown. Someone, somewhere up the chain of power caught wind of the confession scene in 15x18, realised that it demanded a resolution which would make Dean Winchester, their protagonist, queer, and pulled the plug. I believe this did not come from a place of homophobia, but of bad business sense.

The CW is constantly trying to win the approval and attention of the one demo group that they seem to fail at getting the most: young straight men. Supernatural was one of their only remaining shows that appeals to young straight men, and Dean Winchester is more often than not the fave character of those young straight men who project onto him. Making Dean Winchester, established Han Solo of Supernatural, queer and in love with his best friend in the finale would have come across as a betrayal to those young straight men. The CW probably feared they would lose that demo group for good, and with a show like Walker starting soon with Jared at the helm, they couldn’t take the risk.

Hence there was probably a whole bunch of back and forth script redrafts with the Network, with Dabb and Singer fighting to make a finale that would appeal to everyone. There was most likely no way that they could bring Cas back without addressing what had already been filmed, because any resolution of that plot would either a. make Dean queer, or b. address it awkwardly by having Dean reject Cas (this storyline would probably have been slammed by critics worse than the finale because it meant addressing it. It might have got the attention of LGBTQ activist groups and caused a bigger shitstorm than what we got). The best option was therefore C. Bury it and Cas, pretend it never happened. Never address it again and distract Dean with other things. Hope that Destiel fans will accept no answer from Dean as ambiguous enough to imagine a future reunion rather than shutting it down with a rejection, and still keep hold of the blissfully ignorant heteronormative straight boys so they can carry over to Walker when it starts.

I also believe (controversially probably) that there was concern that any resolution of Dean and Cas would have overshadowed network darling Jared Padalecki. If Dean and Cas had come together in the finale, with a very clearly textual homosexual reunion, then that would have been all anyone talked about. The reviewers, the critics, the audience, everyone. It would have been nothing but Dean and Cas (and look, if they did think this, they were right, Destiel trending over the US ELECTION.)

So what is the network to do, when they are losing the two stars who would get the most attention from this storyline? The one star they were holding on to and getting his own show, relegated to third place in the finale of the show where he was first on the call sheet? Nope. That’s pretty unacceptable. Even without Walker I can imagine people at all levels side eyeing the Destiel thing over the years. This IS a show about two brothers, and their relationship should be the core relationship, we can’t have one brother pushed aside in the finale to make way for a queer relationship that will get all the attention instead. It was never gonna get approved for this reason ALONE.

At the end of the day, if I look at it from a business perspective, it makes far more sense that the CW shut down Destiel, rather than “oh Dabb never cared and ruined it because he’s an idiot.” The writers cared, and had built on that story over years. But their mistake was leaving any Destiel resolution to the finale. If they had instead gone and got Dean and Cas together in early season 15, then they could have ended it in a way that satisfied everyone. Destiel wouldn’t have threatened pulling focus away from Sam and Dean, and the show could have gone out on a high.

When I lay out all the conspiracy theories, and line them up next to the cold hard facts, the conspiracy theories in some way or another, make more sense. To believe the company line, the narrative we have been fed, is to ignore your own eyes, ears, and memories pre March 2020.

All I’m asking people to do is take a look at the show, the narrative presented in the show, and the information presented above. I’m not telling you to believe what I’ve written here, half of which is just my own opinion. I’m asking you to ask yourselves if it makes sense to you. Because it sure as hell doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t think I’ll ever be satisfied.

[ateezmakemeweep]

broken (part 2).

san x reader

word count: 12k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of domestic abuse and rape)

(part 1)

no matter how many times you tried to change your thinking patterns, you still classified your life into two parts: before the abuse and after.

you thought, after watching your ex-boyfriend being escorted out of the courtroom with a one-year prison sentence, that you wouldn’t be scared of him anymore.

you thought that moving out of the house and living in your new apartment would make day to day life easier, not needing to see the floor you were beaten on or counter you were forced to have sex on every day.

you thought that having san would make you feel happy and loved and enough. that having a whole new family unit consisting of seven other crazy boys and a crotchety old lady would be enough.

but as you sit curled up on the bathroom floor with tears in your eyes, you’re seeing you severely underestimated everything. 

underestimated just how much trauma you still had to sort through and how badly that asshole really did mess you up.

six months ago:

“so we have the surveillance footage and witness testimony from your neighbors,” your lawyer explains gently, an older woman with kind eyes and soft-spoken voice that quickly transforms in the courtroom. 

“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”

the harshest sentence being one year, a measly 365 days compared to the 1,825 he subjected you to every kind of abuse: sexual, emotional, mental, physical. 

hitting and grabbing and slapping until your skin was littered with bruises and cuts. 

talking so harshly to you that you believed dying was the best option, stripping you from any sort of confidence or self-esteem you once had. 

making you feel completely inept and useless, solely viewing you as a piece of property he could boss around and use at his disposal. 

you had left the office with shaking hands and a pounding heart, barely being able to dial san’s number before he answered after one ring. 

this was the first appointment you’ve went to without him, insisting he can’t and won’t miss his midterm for this. 

“hi, love. everything go okay?” he asks softly, with the sweet gentle voice that has quite literally kept you alive these past few months. 

you don’t know what you did in another life to deserve san but you know that without him, you probably wouldn’t have made it this far. without his constant support and sweet reassurances, you wouldn’t have believed you could ever do this. 

willingly tell police officers and lawyers about what happened to you, break down and expose yourself in such a way that always made you feel weak and pathetic. 

admit aloud that, yes, you’ve been a victim of abuse and no, those bruises and scars on your body aren’t from clumsy falls into the wall or cabinet. 

without him, accompanying you to the police station or lawyer’s office, where you knew jungkook was lingering, you would’ve never felt safe. 

you would’ve broke down and took it all back, told them that you made it all up and to release him because he didn’t do anything wrong.

but he did so much wrong and you and san know that. the police and lawyers and judges know it too, several outbursts from the man in court and at the station proving that. 

it’s what makes the thought of a personal statement so hard, having to look your ex-boyfriend in the face and watch him stare you down with not an ounce of remorse or sorrow.

san must know it too, if your silence through the phone tells him anything, and you can already hear shuffling in the background as he prepares to leave his class and head to your apartment.   

“are you done with your test?” you ask first, voice sweet but mousy in a way that makes san’s stomach sink

he knew today was gonna be rough for you, he knew he should’ve asked his professor to retake the midterm next week. 

“yes,” the boy answers immediately, knowing he’s about to run back into the classroom, circle c for the last three answers and haul ass to his car. 

“san, are you-”

“i was done, it’s fine, y/n,” he confirms gently, feet moving and body desperate to rush toward your apartment. 

because he knows after all of this time, you’ve learned to hold back your pain and suffering. years of practice and keeping tears at bay that he’s noticed have made these months difficult for you two. 

and he hates knowing that you still wait till you’re alone to cry. 

that even though every time you do, he wipes away every tear and holds you to his chest until you fall asleep, you still feel most comfortable being sad alone.

that you’re probably already home now, about to bury your face in a pillow and sob until you hear his car and wipe your cheeks clean like nothing is wrong. 

but there’s a lot wrong. 

a lot wrong with how you’ve been treated and how hard it is to move past it. 

a lot wrong with the legal system that makes this painful journey even more exhausting, forcing you to recount memory after memory and answer question after question about the worst ordeals of your life. 

that’s why san can’t help but turn in his test and rush out the door to his car, speeding off campus and onto the highway in hot pursuit of your apartment above the bakery.

it had seemed like perfect little place to get you back on your feet, the smell of freshly baked bread and pleasant bustle of regulars greeting you in the early morning hours. 

there was no commute for you, just a walk down the stairs and through the yellow door of the bakery, where simple work waited for you. 

“you just need to ring up the customers and maybe clean a table or two. most people take their things to go,” your boss had told you, a divorced mother of three who spent most of her life baking before she was finally able to open up a place of her own. 

it was simple work but it was more than you’d done in years, something as little as small talk with regulars successfully draining you. filling you with a nervousness and fear that you’re still feeling even without your ex’s presence. 

but it’s in the way a man yells on the phone about a business deal going sour while waiting for his morning coffee. 

a woman chastising her kids saying that they won’t get to eat the cookies she’s buying after dinner. 

the slam of the door when a harsh gust of wind howls from outside and rattles the small bakery with light blue walls and pictures of bread and desserts.

you don’t know how many coffees you’ve spilt or plates you’ve broken from jumping at the harsh sounds, realizing little by little how hard this transition was gonna be. 

even with san and his friends and your boss and the crazy old lady who secured this new life for you in the first place, it’s still hard. 

you can’t even imagine doing all of these new things alone, just living in such a simple way that the average person takes for granted. 

but you suppose it’s not all simple yet, going back and forth between meetings with your lawyer and the police for the court date that’s rapidly approaching. 

you can feel that the closer it comes, the harder it is to breathe. 

the mere thought of seeing the man who hurt you for the longest five years of your life, sitting in front of you with not an ounce of remorse on his face. making  this process even harder because how are you supposed to talk in front of him? 

see clear as day that you’re not safe and you never will be. 

that he’s gonna get out in a year, because that’s the harshest sentence possible without you being hospitalized or dead, and hurt you again. he’s never gonna stop hurting you because he always said you were his and he wouldn’t ever hesitate to-

you don’t even hear the jingle of san’s keys opening the front door or his softly spoken call of your name. 

you’re only aware of his presence when you feel his warm, small hands cup your face, his thumbs rubbing over your wet, salty skin as he mutters your name lowly.

“hey, i’m here, i’m here,” he mumbles sweetly, tone soft and gentle the way it always is no matter what the circumstances are.

he plops down on the couch before pulling you into his lap, his hand rubbing up and down your back gently. you hear the quiet but firm “sh, sh, sh,” against your head, the sharp calming hums always in threes as an attempt to ground you.

you try to focus on his calming sounds and even breaths, the hand on your back so warm and gentle as he lulls your panicked body into a calmer state. 

you bury your face in his chest and breathe in his scent, cologne and detergent mixed with his natural scent that lingers on your pillow every morning. 

“i-i’m sorry.”

the words make his stomach plummet, tears burning his eyes because you never have anything to be sorry for. you never have anything to be sorry for and you say it all the time. 

when you bump into him in the kitchen while making food together.

when you sit on the remote and change the channel by accident.

when you burnt the cookies one night and made the fire alarm go off. 

he remembers that being one of the worse nights, the loud noises making you jump while also flinching away when he lifted his arm up to fan away the smoke. and then you immediately apologized again, cookies long forgotten before he grabbed your hand and led you into the living room. 

he just held your hand as you both watched tv, his thumb rubbing over your skin before you spoke words so quietly, he almost missed them. 

“i wish...i would stop doing that.”

he cranes his neck over to look at you, eyebrow raised and eyes soft as he looks  at you questioningly. 

he wants to tease and say that you’ve never burnt the cookies before but anytime you feel comfortable enough to talk to him like this, he never wants to say the wrong thing.

“i...i know you would never hurt me,“ you continue after a few moments. “and i know i’m just...scared easily, i guess. but it makes me feel bad,” you admit quietly, heart pulling in your chest as you look at the man beside you. 

he has gotten you through the hardest times of your life, has been by your side every step of the way with no questions or complaints, and you haven’t been able to repay him. 

not even with a plate of fucking cookies. 

“you don’t have to feel bad, y/n,” san says gently, his hand reaching out slowly to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. 

your eyes close at his feather light touch and the way it makes your heart jump, his fingers lingering on you in a way that makes you feel so safe and content. 

“and i know it’s hard to believe still but you have nothing to be scared of either. i’m not gonna let anyone hurt you again and i mean that.”

“but i feel like i’m hurting you,” you mumble softly, pulling your knees up as you rest your head on the couch cushion. his brows pull together as his eyes roam your face, a pout on his lips the more he looks at you in silence.

“you’ve helped me so much and i just...” tears fill your eyes as you struggle to find the words and breathe. you’ve only been living in your new house for two months now and almost every day, san has been here. 

bringing you food, helping you clean and decorate, spending late nights with you watching movies, helping you through an inevitable fit of panic when your memories and life become too much. 

he makes it easier to breathe and you’re scared that without him, you’re gonna stop one day.

“i just keep... taking from you. you get nothing out of helping me but you still do it anyway and i...you shouldn’t even bother, san. i-i’m not worth this time and i just want you to-”

“stop.”

he tries to keep the anger out of his voice knowing that all of this is what you’ve been told. you’ve been told your whole life that you weren’t enough, were only deemed worthy by a piece of shit who did nothing but hurt and berate you. 

but it doesn’t make it any less hard to hear. to hear in your voice and see in your eyes that you truly believe you’re not worth the time he wants to put into you. 

“you’re worth the time to me,” he says, voice gentle but firm in a way that makes a lump form in your throat. his finger reaches out to trace small circles on your hand, your eyes following it so he doesn’t see the tears building up. 

“i like seeing you happy, y/n. and i wanna help you.”

your teary eyes meet his and you swallow the growing lump in your throat when you see the look on his face, soft and sweet in a way you still can’t believe is directed toward you. 

“i feel like i need a lot of help,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as you think back to how day to day life is so challenging and draining. 

the loud voices and the screaming kids and banging door that sends you into a panic. the broken dishes and tear stains on your pillow that are there more often than not after san leaves every night. 

but san’s hearing each and every word right now, his heart panging in his chest at how vulnerable you are right now. how you let him see this side of you and continue to despite how hard he knows everything’s been. 

“that’s okay,” he smiles softly, stopping the circles on your hand to intertwine your fingers. “i’m gonna be here as long as you need me, okay?”

you look up to meet his gaze and feel a tear slip down your cheek, a cry bubbling in your throat that you so desperately wanna let out. 

but you also don’t wanna make san any more sad tonight, biting down on your lip as you nod your head before leaning on his shoulder. 

you don’t see the smile that crosses his face or hear the content sigh that leaves him, his hand in yours and presence enough to lull you into a dreamless sleep. 

“you have nothing to be sorry for,” he assures you quietly, looking over your face as he wipes at your cheeks. you meet his gaze and your eyes stay locked on one another, his thumb gentle and soft across your skin.

“did you do good on your test?” you squeak out after a few moments of silence, a smile breaking out across his face. 

“of course i did, we studied all night, didn’t we?” he teases, referring to just last night when you helped him with index cards and read them all to him twice before promptly passing out on his chest. 

a blush crosses your face as you look down in embarrassment, a sweet high pitched laugh bubbling out of him. 

“it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. your drool only ruined a few of them.”

“i don’t drool,” you mutter, a small smile on san’s face as he tightens his hold on you in his lap. 

“did you eat yet?” 

you shake your head as indistinguishable mumble leaves your mouth, curling yourself into his chest more as his warmth and comforting scent envelop you. 

his lips brush against your hair in a small smile, quietly asking what you wanna eat even though he knows you’re gonna say you don’t care. 

“whatever you want,” you mutter against him, the exhaustion of waking up at 5 am and the draining meeting with your lawyer catching up to you. 

and san knows on days like these that chinese food and watching reruns of old cartoons is usually the thing you need to feel a little bit better. 

pretend that just for a few hours, everything is okay and there’s nothing more pressing than spending the night together in what always turns into having a sleepover. 

because just as you found it difficult to live in that house you once shared with jungkook, san finds it difficult to go back to that block every night. 

stay just a few houses away from where he’s reminded of how you were treated while he was just a few feet away.

watching as the backyard once full of flowers becomes dull and colorless and every window reminds him of what was truly going on behind the walls of that house.

it’s one of the reasons why staying with you just makes sense. that and the fact that leaving you always proves to be the hardest part of the night together. 

you with a pout and sad eyes quietly whining for him to stay and him being completely powerless as he throws himself down next to you and wraps his arms around your waist. 

he’s not surprised when the same thing happens tonight, your eyes drooping and body slacking against him before he quietly asks if he should get going. you look up at him tiredly, eyebrows pulled together and one cheek red from you leaning on his chest in a way that makes him hold back a smirk.

“no,” you say quietly, your eyes roaming his face before you quickly realize he might want to leave you. the thought rips a pang of hurt through your chest but you can’t help but feel that might be the case. 

you ripped him away from his test and cried on him all night. why would he wanna stay with you? 

“unless you want to. i-i don’t wanna force you to stay here if you don’t-”

“of course i want to,” san responds, taking your face in his hands gently and allowing his thumb to run along your soft skin. “i was just checking.” 

because he also never wants to overstep. make you feel too overwhelmed or smothered since if it were up to him, he’d never leave your side again. 

his words and touch send relief through you, the panic and fear that attempted to break through quickly dying it. everything about him makes it so easy to be calm and comforted, a smile making it’s way on your face as you nod. 

you place your head back on his chest, sighing contently when you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder a few moments later. you stare at the tv blankly, not sure how long you’re lost in thought about the conversation at the lawyer’s office. 

“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”

could you really do that though? strip yourself to the most vulnerable degree and proclaim to a courtroom full of people how weak and defenseless you were for five years? how the man who’s gonna be seated just a few feet away over you had that much power over you? 

would you feel better looking jungkook in the face and telling him that you’re gonna be strong and come out okay? that he won’t be able to hurt you anymore and will rot behind a cell for what he’s done?

or would you it make you feel worse? seeing him again and the blankness behind his eyes. the pity and sorrowful looks on the judge and court officers when your voice shakes and eyes brim with tears as you recall your old life.

you’re not even sure if san is awake at this point, his arm heavy around you and breaths even under your head but you can’t seem to stop your tired self from speaking.

“my lawyer suggested i make a personal statement.”

san doesn’t stutter under you, the only sign of him being awake when he hums lowly and gently pulls away from you. the bed dips next to you when he lays on his side, your eyes meeting just as he reaches out to smooth out a messy strand of hair.

“yeah?” he mumbles lowly, his soft eyes roaming your face. “how do you feel about that?” 

the question, despite the serious tension in leaves in the air, makes you smile softly, remembering when your lawyer recommended counseling, you thought back to san waiting in the car and felt as if you already had all the support you needed. 

he has the most patience and kindness of anyone you’ve ever met before and you can’t imagine trusting someone as much as trust him. have someone else hear you this vulnerable and genuine, see you cry and feel all the emotions that come with rebuilding your life after being a victim of domestic violence. 

“i don’t know if i can do it.”

the words make san frown, holding himself up on his elbow as he looks over your face with concern. he can tell you’re tired, eyes hazy and drooping but he also can tell your mind’s been preoccupied. 

more so than usual. 

“i...i don’t know if i could do it with him there.”

“he’s not gonna hurt you anymore,” san reminds you gently, his hand creeping down in between your bodies to take ahold of yours. it’s soft and small and warm and everything about it makes you feel safe. 

“i-i know. but...just him being there. watching me and hearing me say what he’s done when i know he has no remorse. and then telling more people how i let it go on for so long and-”

“you didn’t let anything go on for too long. it wasn’t your fault. y/n.”

tears burn your eyes as a lump forms in your throat, hearing those words from almost everyone in your life but still not having the ability to grasp it. 

it feels like your fault, it feels like you’ve allowed yourself to be treated in a way you knew was wrong for far too long. 

because now look at you. trying to rebuild your life but being panicked when the wind howls just a little too loudly outside. 

you take a few deep calming breaks and swallow as you look at him, eyes hazy and glossy and threatening to close shut; you’re so tired but it’s like your brain never stops going these days. 

“she said...it’d guarantee the harshest sentence. but shouldn’t the evidence be enough? the tapes and the witnesses? why- why do i have to keep going through this?” you whisper, voice shaky and tears building as you look at him. the sight alone makes san stomach sink, rolling his tongue between his lips anxiously. 

“i just want it to be over. i don’t wanna keep recounting what happened over and over and over again. i... it’s so hard, san. it’s so hard and i feel like i can’t do it anym-” 

your words break off as a quiet whimper leaves your mouth, crumbling against san’s body when he pulls you forward and wraps his arms around you. your head falls in the crook of his neck as his hand rests on the back of your head, breathing slowly and evenly as quiet hums leave his mouth. 

“I know, baby,” san mumbles, his lips against your head as he presses a kiss to your hair. “you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, okay? no one can make you do anything.”

"you're hurting me, jungkook," your broken voice tells him, the cracks and pain behind it familiar to even your own ears.

you don't know how many times you've heard yourself like this. so desperate and defeated.

"i wish i didn't have to, babydoll," he says lowly, "but you never listen. you make me do this."

and you don’t even think about if you’re gonna regret it at the time. not use your own voice and speak up in front of the courtroom about what the man on trial did. 

you can only think about his eyes watching you, your friends hearing your voice quiver and shake, the judge maybe not taking your words into account. it all seems too much right now, the crushing weight of anxiety and fear that’s making you feel too weak to do that. 

“you made it this far. and it’s almost all over, okay?” san reassures, his hand stroking your hair as he tries to calm your cries. “if you wanna do it, i’ll be right there next to you. we’ll all be there for you and you’ll be safe the whole time. but if you don’t, that’s okay too. you don’t have to and everything will still be okay.”

and because it’s like the blonde just knows everything when it comes to you, everything is okay - or as okay as things can be under these circumstances. 

your lawyer didn’t bat an eye when you told her you weren’t sure if you could do a personal statement, her hand on your shoulder as she gently tells you that it’s okay. that the harshest sentence would probably still be given, considering the unusual amount of evidence in a case like this. 

you watched jungkook get taken out of court with a one year sentence, thrashing in handcuffs and cursing at you while you gripped san’s hand tightly. 

you had foolishly thought watching that was gonna somehow heal you immediately. 

no longer make you afraid or flinch at the smallest of sounds or movements, make you feel like now you can take san’s words to heart and feel worthy of the love he showered you with. 

but it was with that love, you started to grow too dependent. let it consume you in a whole new way that made you feel like without san, you couldn’t breathe. 

at first, he didn’t know what had triggered the episodes that followed three months after the trial. 

it had seemed as if you were making a lot of progress over the past few months, truly happy and smiley without an ounce of fear in your eyes that had always seemed to linger. 

you were working hard at the bakery, becoming closer with the regulars and even finding it easier to talk with them. they found you comforting and sweet, always greeting them with a warm smile and remembering how many sugars they got with their morning coffee. 

the same warm smile you gave san when he told you he was visiting his parents for his mom’s birthday one weekend, sending him off with a loaf of bread and an array of cookies. 

“don’t eat them all,” you teased lightly, side-eyeing mingi who was one of your many regulars and could also take your advice as he shovels rainbow cookies in his mouth. 

“i won’t,” san smiles gently, looking in mingi’s direction and holding back a laugh upon seeing the boy. 

he was probably the next closest person you came to trust since you all got to know each other, a soft spot for him ever since the moment he deemed sunflowers ‘sunnies’ during the darker times. 

mingi was the happiness and innocence you think you must have had once. finding the good in everything and being happy just because the sun was out and dessert was on the table. 

“and neither should you,” san chastises the younger boy, smacking him in the back of the head lightly. you smile softly at the exchange, holding back a snort as you clean off the table next to the bickering boys. 

the arm around your waist a few moments later would’ve startled you had you not smelt san’s cologne, leaning into him and feeling grateful you’re the only three in the store right now. 

you look over your shoulder and smile softly at him, heart stuttering at the look on his face. eyes full of such concern, you should know he’s about to ask you if you’re-

“are you gonna be okay tonight?” 

he wasn’t ignorant of the fact, the same way you weren’t, that this is gonna be one the first nights you’ve spent alone in months. 

not falling asleep to the gentle lull of his breathing or his arms around your waist. no one to be there if you wake up from a nightmare, where memories torment your body as you hear the shouts of your ex and feel as if your body is still being bruised.

san not being there to wake you with a gentle peck on the cheek before dragging you back to the warm bed when you try to get up for work. 

but you have to be okay, right? you’ve been doing so good these past few weeks. and you’re an adult the same way he’s an adult, it’s ridiculous to think you guys would have to spend every night together. 

“of course, silly” you poke him gently, smiling when his dimples poke out of his cheeks. “have fun with your parents. don’t worry about me.”

“i always worry about you,” he mumbles lowly, his lips ghosting over your hair as you push his chest lightly. he bites back a smile when he sees the blush on your cheeks, pulling away from him immediately so you can stick your tongue out at him. 

and that night, it actually feels as if you’re okay. 

you busy yourself by cleaning and cooking before passing out to the vampire diaries. your sleep is dreamless and calm, waking up to a good morning message from san consisting of a bare-faced, messy-haired selfie. 

but a few days after his return is when he began to notice the little changes. 

behaviors he thinks you weren’t even aware of that made his heart sink into his stomach; it reminded him so much of the first few weeks you were away from jungkook. 

how despite the fear in your eyes, you clung to him because you knew he’d never hurt you. felt safe in his presence and sought him out when you were feeling uncomfortable or upset. 

and he sees you’re back to the place right now, so obviously uneasy and upset despite the major progress you’ve been making. 

it was like the second he came through the door, you had to be by his side. leaning your head on his shoulder as you watched your shows or grabbing his hand when he got up to go to the bathroom. 

at first, he thought it was cute - your clinginess and obvious affection toward him. he thought it was sweet and it made him so happy, smiling softly and kissing the top of your head as he told you he’d be back in a minute.

but the more the weeks went on, the worse it was seeming to get. 

you asking him after only a few hours of him at school when he was gonna be back. nightmares and bad memories haunting you when you’d fall asleep for naps in between your shift ending and his last class. 

“baby... are you sure you’re okay these days?” 

the words cause you to stop stirring the pasta in the pot, craning your neck to where san is sitting on the countertop. 

he meets your gaze with a soft smile and extends his hand out to you, leaning down to press a kiss to your nose before pulling you up.

you squeal at the sensation, giggling quietly because there you two are just perched on the counter like two cats and no regard for the boiling pot of food beside you. 

you giggle again when he places a kiss to your neck, tightening his hold around your waist.

he relishes in the sound of your laugh because it also seems like these days, he’s hasn’t heard it that much. 

“i feel like i haven’t heard that in a while,” he mumbles against your neck, his lips lingering on your skin. he never wants to say the wrong thing with you or make you feel like you’re not doing good enough. 

you pull back and look at him with a small pout, your fingers toying at the end of his shirt nervously. 

“i...i’m okay though,” you tell him quietly, thinking it’s the truth even though you have felt off these days. 

you didn’t know what it was though honestly. it’s felt like ever since san came back from his parents, you’ve needed him extra. clingy and needy and annoying in the sense that the poor man can’t even go away without you needing him. 

and now he seems to know it, too. 

maybe he doesn’t wanna do this anymore. maybe he didn’t sign up for months of you going back and forth, feeling great and confident one week and then back to being clingy and scared the next. 

because you know it’s only a matter of time before two things happens: he gets sick of you and leaves or starts resenting you. doesn’t wanna waste his time with a battered woman when he could be wth fun and carefree college girls. 

“have i been annoying?” 

your blurted out question throws him off as much as it breaks his heart, immediately shaking his head as he cups your cheeks. 

his lips fall into a pout and your eyes immediately fall to them, about to comment on it before he places a sweet, short peck on yours.

you two, despite your close and intimate relationship full of skin-ship, don’t kiss a lot. you can only count of one hand how many times san has kissed you on the lips, most of the time going for your cheek or head.

but you certainly don’t mind. 

you think it’s good to take it slow, since everything else about your relationship is so intense. that’s why the times he does kiss you, you get filled with such a happy warm feeling that usually makes you feel better no matter what. 

that’s how you know you’re not right. that suddenly, for some reason, you’re not okay again despite being so incredibly lucky that the people in you life now care about you. 

they’re trying so hard to help you and it feels like you can’t repay them in any way.

“no, no, baby, not at all,” san says when he pulls back, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. “i’m just concerned.”

the lump in your throat makes it feel like you can’t breathe, biting your lip harshly as you look up at the blonde. 

“i love that you want me around,” he continues softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he looks down at you. “but i’m just...i also wanna make sure you’re okay.”

you nod your head as you take in his words, slightly calmed by them despite the way your mind is trying to tell you otherwise. 

he loves that you want him around, he just said so. and he wouldn’t put up with you if he didn’t want to, right?

“i’m okay,” you assure sweetly, leaning into his touch just a little bit more. “i guess i just missed you.”

your cheeks flush at the soft, almost touched look that crosses san’s face, his lips falling into a pout as he tightens his hold on you.

“i missed you too.”

boiling liquid splashing onto the stove causes you both to look away, a squeal leaving your mouth as the foamy water overflows the pot. 

“shit!” you squeal, jumping down from the counter to rush over and lower the heat. san watches from his spot with a small smile, chuckling lightly when you throw him a look.

“sorry,” he says sheepishly, a playful roll of your eyes causing him to jump down and hug you from behind.

he presses small kisses and laughs into the crook of your neck as you finish making the pasta, feeding him pieces from the pot to see if it’s cooked enough. 

you eat on the couch and spend the rest of the night watching tv, a relatively calm and relaxed night that makes you feel much better than the past few days. 

you think you just got so used to his presence, the comfort and warmth and light he provides by just being in your apartment and smiling at you. 

you were scared by how attached you’d grown to him, depending on him in a way you think a person who has gone through what you’ve gone through shouldn’t.

but he’s so good and makes you feel loved. it’s such a different feeling than one you’ve ever experienced, after your family and friends and ex-boyfriend let you down time and time again. 

you’ve never had someone like this before but you’ve also never tried to rebuild your life before. never had the chance to be your own person and make your own decisions - it’s something you’re still learning and that’s evident to everyone in your life. 

but the next morning, a pleasant surprise in the form of mrs. kim comes bursting through the door and immediately lights your face with a smile; apart from san and mingi, she’s another person you’ve grown extremely close and fond of. 

she’s the one who made everything possible, rebuilding your life with a new home and workplace. it’s why she always tries to push you further out of your comfort zone and into the real world with gentle prodding and much needed assurance. 

she’s at the bakery for almost two hours before she pulls up a chair behind the register and gets that look in her eye you know all too well. it’s the look she gave you the day you accepted the apartment, insisting you take it and make it your own and to not even think about how to pay her back. 

the look she gave you before the trial as she gave you strength, told you that you were strong and you were gonna get through this, with or without your personal statement. 

and apparently it’s the look she gives you when she broaches the topic of you enrolling back in school. 

“so what do you think?” she asks, tone carefree and excited like she’d been thinking about this for weeks. “is that something you’d wanna do?” 

your immediate thought is yes. yes, yes, yes shout it from the rooftops yes. you miss school and learning and all the experiences that come with getting an education. 

you once loved school and had so many aspirations but then your life apart. the prospect of an education or getting a job was dangled in your face as some sort of manipulation tactic.

that when jungkook went too far and left you especially bloody and bruised, he’d mentioned school like it was the answer to all of your problems as a couple. like that was his penance and would win him boyfriend of the year.

and mrs. kim must see the haunted look in your eye, replaying flashbacks and memories from how choices like that weren’t under your control for the longest time. 

“listen to me, stop staying in there,” she says, flicking at your head and making you wince. “is that something you wanna do? yes or no?” 

“yes but i-”

“but nothing,” the old lady says, wiping out an ipad the boys had been teaching her how to use for the past few weeks; the font is the biggest size you’ve ever seen and has a cat case on that almost makes you burst out laughing upon seeing.

“i was looking at the local school, it’s close and cheap but you could always get some financial aid, scholarships or even a loan,” she begins to tell you, eyes squinted and a wrinkle between her browns as she taps on the screen. “this shit is so hard, i’m still trying to learn. oh, great here it is, okay. look, they even have this major.”

you had mentioned once that you thought about a career in journalism to her, one night when you and her were making cookies in her house as the boys tended to her garden (because they were gardeners now, official, professional gardeners who only know how to plant sunflowers). 

tears almost immediately fill in your eyes as you follow her pruny finger, licking over your lips so you don’t start sobbing. 

she looks up at you after a few moments of silence and it’s promptly followed by her smacking your arm, a scoff leaving her mouth that makes you giggle. 

“what are you crying about?” 

the emotion clogged in your throat makes it hard to speak, attempting to talk through the strange contrast of tears and laughter bubbling in your throat. 

“i just... i can’t believe you remember i told you that. it was so long ago.”

“what? you think because i’m old i don’t remember shit? i’m not a senile, y/n, jesus.” 

a wet giggle leaves your mouth as you listen to her talk about the research she’s done, about how to pay and when you can start and her son’s experience at the local college. 

it all makes you feel very hopeful, excited even, as you think about what once seemed impossible. 

getting out in the world and pursuing a passion you as an individual had. making connections and just conversing with different people and seeing relationships form. 

but all of those doubts and fears instilled in you don’t just go away.

you remember months back when you told san you were writing again, he was the one who recommended going back to school. 

was so happy about it that his eyes were shining and dimples were out and you’d never seen someone more handsome.

but now that you guys are...kind of together, would his mind change? does he not want you talking to other people either now? will he think it’s silly or pointless, since you already have you job at the bakery? 

you know deep down that that’s not the kind of person san is. you knew from the moment you met him and risked talking and smiling and laughing with him that he was good.

but that part of you still scared and broken from what you went through, the prospect of school and freedom dangled in your face as some sort of reward or apology, is scared he won’t approve.

and whether it’s unhealthy or not, all you want is san’s approval. 

“c-can i ask you something?” you ask him later that night, both of you cuddled up on the couch.

a blanket’s thrown over your lap with san’s arm around your shoulder, your head now off his chest as you look up at him questioningly. 

he immediately looks down at you with a soft, curious expression, running his hand through your hair as a small smile makes it’s way on his face. 

“anything,” he hums lowly, already making your nervous body feel slightly more calm. 

you have to try and always remember this is the boy who’s been by your side for months, with no complaints. who saved you from your life before this and only wants you to be safe and happy. 

“i was talking to miss kim earlier today...” you begin, his interest already peeked because he thinks he might know where this is going; he was suspicious ever since the older woman asked him how to make the font larger on her ipad. 

he sees the slight apprehension and fear in your eyes so he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your skin gently and giving you a small, encouraging nod. 

you take a deep breath and try to shake the worry off, opening and closing your mouth before deciding to spit it out. 

“we...were talking about me going back to school. and i...kind of thought that would be something good for me to do. i used to love school and learning and mrs kim. said there’s a lot of things i could do to pay for it and stuff, if i needed to...” 

his chest hurts slightly watching you stammer over your words nervously, your eyes moving from him to the wall as you start to unconsciously hold his hand tighter. 

“but if you don’t want me to or think it’s a stupid idea, i won’t. i just...wanted to make sure it was okay with you.” 

you don’t see the way san sits there in contemplation as you’re too nervous and toying with the edge of the blanket, his face sympathetic but also a little surprised. 

there’s a lot of things that san is still getting used to, the way you’re so vulnerable and attached to him (in a way he doesn’t mind at all). 

but it’s like right now he’s seeing the severity of it, watching as a grown woman asks for his permission for something she absolutely doesn’t.

it makes tears burn the back of his eyes but he quickly pushes the sensation and desire away, his hand lifting your chin so you made his gaze head-on. 

“y/n...you don’t need my permission to do anything. you... you know that, right?”

your eyebrows pull together almost in confusion that he didn’t immediately respond with a yes or no, head cocked to that side as you lick over your lips nervously. 

he can’t help but think if this was a fault on his part. did he make you feel like you have to ask his permission or approval for things? did he maybe at any point make you feel scared or judged when he’s been doing his best to avoid that?

your harsh grip on his hand brings him back to the conclusion that, right now, this isn’t about him. 

whether he did that or not, he has to make sure right now that you know you’re your own person and don’t need to run decisions by him or anyone else. 

“baby, i think it’s great you wanna do that and will support whatever you wanna do. but you don’t have to ask for...my permission to do anything,” san tells you softly, his hand cupping your face as he presses a kiss to your head; the words ‘his permission’ even feel gross on his tongue.

“i’m happy if you’re happy. and if going to school will make you happy, i’m gonna be supportive 100%. you got it, love?” 

you don’t even know why you’re surprised by san’s reaction but it still brings tears to your eyes, only being able to nod before you bury your face in his chest. 

he bites back a smile at the feel of you against him, running his hand up your back to gently rest in your hair. 

“you still wanna study journalism?” he mumbles against your hair and again, you can only nod so you don’t let out the whimper threatening to leave you mouth.

because it still shocks you day after day that everyone in your life now truly seems to care. 

they remember things about you and want to see you smile, always remind you that you can do whatever you want and are slowly making you see that, maybe, you will be okay in the end. 

it may not seem like a lot to someone who’s been lucky enough to have these things but, for you, it’s something you haven’t ever had before.

the ability to giggle and smile and spend your night with someone who you can see really, truly loves you. who wouldn’t do anything to hurt you and always has your best interests in mind.

that’s exactly why when you fall asleep, san can’t help but turn to look at your sleeping form. he runs his hand through your messy hair, moving a strand from your face and feeling his heart lurch at how peaceful and innocent you look. 

he still can’t get the thoughts out of his heads from earlier, wondering if, maybe, this whole time, he hasn’t been doing the right thing. 

maybe these past few months, you should’ve been rebuilding your life on your own. he shouldn’t have been here every, single step of the way to sooth and coddle and protect you. 

it was something hongjoong said just a few weeks after you moved in and he nearly attacked the boy, asking how he could let you cry alone every night and feel lonely and scared in a new place?

but he also knows that hongjoong is more logical than him. he’s always let his emotions get to him, empathetic and caring almost to a fault. 

and with you, he was always even more clouded. 

now, though, he’s seeing that maybe hongjoong has a point. he’s seen it in the way you’ve become more clingy and dependent on him, something he loves and makes him feel warm but also knows, for you, is a part of feeling safe. 

and as hard as it is for him to admit, he knows you need to feel safe without him. slowly rebuild your own sense of self and security without him always being there to wipe your tears or kiss your face. 

but how is supposed to do that? he thinks, watching your sleeping face with a pained chest and burning eyes.

he’s about to get up to get a glass of water before he hears you whine, both his feet not even on the floor before even in your unconscious you can sense his departure. 

“going to get water, love, i’ll be right back,” he mumbles in your ear, kissing the side of your head when you still and roll back over. 

he gulps down the cool liquid before resting his head on the cold fridge, letting out a sigh as he realizes he may need to have another discussion with hongjoong.

even more so when he goes back into the room and sees your face, the slightest hint of discomfort in your pinched eyebrows and frowning lips. 

you turn back over when he crawls in the bed again, your head on his chest and arm wrapping around his stomach. 

he smiles upon hearing your sleepy voice call his name, dazed eyes staring up at him as he kisses the tip of your nose. 

“hi, baby. i’m back.” 

“i love you.”

the confession make his eyes widen and heart speed up, shocked into silence at those three, sudden words. 

because while it’s obvious that’s how you both feel for each other, your sweet touches and words exchanged since the moment you met one another, you two haven’t ever uttered that sentence. 

never put it out in the open and really discussed your feelings for one another. 

but your eyes are shut and breaths turn even before you can even hear his softly spoken, “i love you,” in return. 

and it’s because he loves you that he tells hongjoong about the thoughts he’s been having, wondering if he’s been doing the wrong thing the whole time and just making this transition harder for you. 

“i think you’re trying to make it easier because you love her and don’t wanna see her hurt anymore.” 

san’s eyes meet hongjoong’s across the dining room table at their house, a house san hasn’t slept or eaten at basically since you moved out; everyone knew where he was and they understood it completely but they also missed their friend’s presence. 

“but...she does need to learn to be on her own, san. she’s never done that before and she’s always been dependent on someone. luckily you’re just...so fucking good that it wouldn’t be a problem. but even with her asking you if she could go to school...she’s not okay, yet, san. she needs to sort her shit out.”

“i don’t want her to be alone,” the blonde admits, voice tight and eyes threatening to water. “i don’t want her to think i’m leaving her.”

“you’re not leaving her alone. you’re just not gonna be attached at the hip 24/7. it’s normal for couples to be apart. you still live and pay rent here, you know. everyone misses you.”

the sound of bickering and plates crashing promptly comes from the kitchen, mingi’s harsh yelp of wooyoung’s name causing a commotion of bickering to break out. 

hongjoong looks at san with a half pained, half amused expression, knowing that the dimpled boy  will have to readjust to how loud and chaotic the house is all the time. 

“you don’t have to do right now,” hongjoong says, wanting to finish the discussion before the boys notice san is here and lost their shit. “ease her into it. talk to her about it. see if she feels the same way. but let her know you just wanna help her, because i know you do, right?” 

san’s nod is immediate and hongjoong mirrors him, his eyes quickly widening as he looks over the blonde’s broad shoulder. 

he doesn’t even get to turn around before a slew of bodies bump into him, nearly knocking him onto the floor as six large, excited boys are jumping and squealing around him.

“san! you’re finally home!”

you’re nearly two months into your first semester of college by the time you’ve fully adjusted to your new schedule and pace of life.

classes monday, tuesday and thursdays mornings followed by your shift at the cafe during the afternoons. you miss your early morning regulars dearly and don’t know what to do with the 10+ memorized coffee orders still in your brain but you already love school so much. 

you love learning and talking with your professors and meeting the many different people on campus. you’ve even found a small group of friends, two girls who sat next to you and immediately started up a conversation with you.

you were terffied and shy at first but eventually opened up, giggling and sharing your thoughts with them before class started - you even always made sure to be 10 minutes early so you could get in your chats with them. 

unsurprisingly, san had been nothing but happy and supportive for the entire journey. helping you apply and become familiar with the campus while also assuring you everything was gonna work out. 

your days were busy and packed with work and you truly loved it but night was still your favorite. when san would walk through the door with take out or you’d be greeted with the sight of him waiting for you on the couch. 

it really felt as if your life was finally coming together, happy and at peace in a way you never felt before. it was like you finally had some sort of control over what happened to you, long gone the feeling of knots in your stomach or an uncontrollable shake in your hands. 

but when you notice san is a little more quiet than usual today, you feel that foreign feeling make it’s way back into your body. 

“is...everything okay?” you finally grow the confidence to ask, his hand absentmindley rubbing your leg that’s sprawled out on his lap. 

you can tell the question throws him off by the way he snaps his head up to look at you, brows pulled together and his head cocked cutely to the side as his eyes roam your face. 

“’course love, why do you ask?”

“i don’t know,” you hum softly, leaning the side of your head on the couch as you look at him. “i feel like you’re quiet today.”

“just thinking baby,” he tells you, tightening his hold on your leg before looking your way. “how were classes today?”

“good, i have to start my essay soon,” you tell him, something uneasy still pulling at your stomach; you’re not used to san being quiet or so lost in thought, usually the only time he’s silent is during a new episode of your shows.

“you’ll do great on it,” he says encouragingly, the hand on your leg gently calmingly rubbing your skin up and down. “you’re doing really good, you know that?” 

happiness fills you at the thought of making san proud, a small smile on your face that causes one his own to cross his face. his dimples poke out and it reminds you so much of your first meeting, when the sun reflected off of him and you just knew there was something too pure and good about this man.

“thank you,” you smile softly, a faint blush on your cheeks that has san’s heart breaking in his chest even more.

he doesn’t wanna have this conversation tonight but he thinks it would be the best time. bring up maybe not staying over every night to create some more space for you while also allowing you to be more independent. learning how to fill your time with things other than him.

but you’re so happy tonight. 

you’ve been so happy these past few months and he doesn’t wanna be the person to ruin that; it seems, though, you can see something behind his eyes and in his demeanor already, your body wiggling closer to him as your gaze shifts nervously. 

“are you sure you’re okay?” 

he lets out a sigh and you can’t help the way your stomach drops, watching carefully as his face turns contemplative and torn. like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if you’re gonna be able to handle it. 

and that alone is scaring the shit out of you. 

the silence is probably only fifteen seconds but it feels like hours, your eyes staring wide and heart starting to race as you look at him; you don’t know what you did but you had to have done something, right? he wouldn’t just act like this out of nowhere. 

“did i...do something wrong?” you ask meekly, that feeling of fear and panic you haven’t felt in almost a year creeping back. you almost forgot how debilitating this feeling is, fully consuming your body until you feel like you’re about to completely breakdown and crumble. 

the fear and concern on your face immediately makes him frown, shaking his head adamantly as he pulls you closer to him. 

“no, no, no, y/n, of course not,” he assures softly, his lips brushing against your head. 

you feel his calming breaths in your hair, like he already knows from the slight waver in your voice and look on your face that you’re getting worked up and anxious. 

the few moments of silence should make you more anxious but you can only focus on his breathing and the warmth from his body against you, trying to stay calm as you remember that this is san and he would never do or say anything to hurt you. 

“i’ve just been thinking about some things and i wanna talk to you about it,” san says, breaking the silence and immediately making your stomach flip nervously. “it’s nothing bad, baby, i just... you know i always have your best interest in mind, right?”

you swallow the lump growing in your throat as you turn to look at him, the soft look in his eye making you happy as much as it makes you sad. 

because while you love seeing it, how sweet and thoughtful and truly kind he is, you know it’s also there because he thinks you’re about to lose your shit. and you haven’t lost your shit in quite some time. 

“i-i know...” 

he takes your face in his hands when your eyes start to wander, the quiet hum leaving his mouth making you look up at him again. the look in his eyes truly stirs something in you, tears burning your eyes even though you’re not even sure why yet. 

“and you know i’ll never, ever hurt you?”

you nod again, feeling panic deep within your chest at where this conversation seems to be going.

“so what i’m about to suggest, i need you to hear me out, okay?”

he waits until you nod, his stomach sinking at the glossed over look in your eyes before he daringly opens his mouth again. 

tells you that he thinks you living on your own while you start a new chapter of your life will be a good thing for you both. that learning to be independent and on your own will help you immensely in this new part of your life. 

“you’ve been doing so good, y/n, and i’m so proud of you. you’ve started school and you work full time and you’re doing all the things you want to do. but we’re together all the time, baby, and i...i don’t know if that’s healthy, for either of us, you know?”

and you think to the average person, who hasn’t been abused and neglected and spent the last five years in normal, healthy circumstances, they would hear this and understand immediately. 

that being alone and learning how to be on your own is a good, healthy thing that everyone needs to experience. 

but all your brain can hear is he doesn’t wanna be with you anymore. 

he’s tired of your brokenness and tired of looking after you all the time and needs some space from you; and while, you suppose, you can’t blame him, it doesn’t hurt you any less. 

it doesn’t terrify you or upset you any less, even though you know his intentions are good; you can only feel unwanted and unworthy and like your time with someone so much better than you is up. 

“is it...i just...do you not like it here? with me?”

did you not keep it clean enough? did you not cook enough, were the meals too frequently takeout and leftovers? you remember jungkook hated that, demanding the house be spotless and dinner be ready and homemade. 

san would laugh at the question if this weren’t the current situation, a serious talk he’s been dreading having because he knows how you’re gonna take it at first. 

but he loves being here and that’s the problem. 

he would coddle you and love you and protect you for as long as you let him if it were up to him. but he knows that’s not what you need anymore, that you’re both not helping anyone if you continue to live your life in what became too comfortable and safe. 

you deserve comfortable and safe but you also deserve to live happily and freely by yourself. and maybe that’s not his decision to make, he often thinks, but he certainly doesn’t think he’s helping you by enabling you to depend on him. 

“baby, i love it here and i love you and i’ll never leave you until you tell me to,” san says, pressing a kiss to each cheek he prays tears don’t fall on in the next few minutes. “but i want you to be okay, love. i don’t want you to need me every night to sleep or think you need to ask my permission for things that are your choice.”

“is that- is that what this is about? that i asked you if i could go to school?” you ask meekly, the idea of talking back foreign but something you can’t control right now. “or is it because i’m in school?”

because maybe you’ve been too busy. maybe he feels like you neglected him. maybe he just wanted an out and this is it. 

“of course it’s not because you’re in school,” san says, slight outrage in his voice as you even suggest that; he always tries to control his responses to you, knowing you’re dealing with years worth of manipulative behavior and maltreatment, but sometimes it does also get to him. 

he was always supportive of your career and education, even when you were just friends and he admired you from afar.

“how could you think that?”

“because this is so random,” you squeak out, tears breaking through as the knot in your throat grows bigger. “i...i didn’t even know you were feeling this way and now you wanna stop seeing me.”

“i don’t wanna stop seeing you, y/n, when did i say that?” san asks, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you contemplatively. 

“you said you don’t want to be together all the time...” you mutter out, feeling stupid and childish but not yet truly understanding what he means. you guys don’t fight at all and you’re always smiling and laughing together - isn’t it okay to be together all the time if good things like that are happening?

“y/n, i love you, of course i wanna still see you. but i just mean...living together the way we have these past months. you’ve never been alone. you’ve always depended on someone, right?” 

you think back to your dysfunctional childhood, depending on alcoholic parents who never taught you how to fend for yourself until you fell into the arms of yet another abuser who you depended on even further.

restricted company and meals and communication, even restricted in what you could do outside the walls of your house. 

“yes,” you nod, sniffling as you wipe at a stray tear on your cheek. “but they’ve only ever hurt me. you never do.”

that fact makes san’s chest pang with hurt, his own eyes burning with tears now as he thinks about how much pain you’ve endured. 

“i know, baby, and i never will. but i think this’ll be good for us. good for you, mostly, that’s always my mian concern.” 

but you start to wonder how this could possibly be good the second the front door closes a few hours later, leaving you alone in your apartment that now feels far too cold and far too dark and far too empty. 

his lack of presence is noticable immediately and it doesn’t take long for panic and sadness and all that existential dread you once felt so deeply start to come on.

he doesn’t want you, nobody wants you, and the only people who did want you hurt you. 

it’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you cry silently, splashing your face with cold water after your puffy eyes can’t take it anymore. and when you get a good look at yourself in the mirror, tear-stained and blotchy and a big fucking mess, you can’t help but see that same girl who was trapped in that house with jungkook.

weak and afraid and horribly incapable of doing anything right. so similiar to the current state you’re in now, sinking down on the bathroom floor and crying into your hands again. 

this could be about san leaving, you know it has something to do with it, but you’re also crying because you now see just how badly you’re still effected by everything. 

you could be distracted by school and work and san but there’s still so much under the surface that you haven’t come to terms with. 

so much so to the point that even san had to step in and do something about it, him still seeing signs that you’re not okay despite how much everyone in your life is trying with you.

and it makes you feel bad that you have so many supportive, lovely people in your life but still can’t find it in you to feel okay. to not depend on one singlar blonde man to make you feel happy or act as if without him, you’re gonna break.

because you can see he’s tired of it. if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have-

“y/n?” 

his voice coupled with his fist hitting the door causes you to jump, at first thinking it’s a bittersweet trick your deluded little mind is playing on you. but then he knocks again, his sweet murmur of “y/n, please open the door,” causing you to cry out again.

hongjoong told him not to go, that he’d barely been home for an hour before he was already itching to rush back to you. 

but he felt uneasy leaving the way he did in the first place, and then even more so when you didn’t answer his three messages and two facetime calls; he hated thinking that you were crying alone or feeling upset. 

and it’s heartbreakingly evident when you reach up to open the door, curled up on the floor in tears, that that’s exactly how you feel. 

“baby, no,” san hums lowly, immediately dropping to the floor so he can gather you in his lap.

it’s so much like the scene when you ran there after the final incident with jungkook, when you collapsed on the floor and finally told somebody about what you’d been going through. 

what happened?" he asks desperately, voice strained and wavering.

but you can only shake your head and cry. cry for how long you've been dealing with this alone and how you feel trapped and how if you don't tell someone tonight.

"he's gonna kill me," you sob out as you shake your head frantically now, "i-i he's gonna kill me," is all you can repeat through ragged breaths.

san can only act on instinct, sitting down cross-legged and holding his arms out slightly before you crash into him. he shakily inhales when your head rests on his shoulder, sobs muffled by his shirt as he feels tears promptly soak through the material.

but he can only sit there, hand on the back of your head as he rocks you soothingly in his lap back and forth.

he listens to your sobs with a broken heart, tears stinging his own eyes because he had suspected something was going on for months and just sat here and did nothing. and now here you are, broken and bruised and in fear for your life.

"i can't go back there," you cry out, "i-he's gonna-"

"no one is gonna hurt you, anymore," he mumbles lowly in your ear, "i'm not gonna let that happen."

“you’re- you’re gonna leave me,” you whimper into his shirt, the only sound in your bathroom for the past few minuets your crying and his soothing hums. “you’re not gonna wanna deal with me anymore and leave and then i’ll really be alone and i’m so-”

“i’m not going anywhere. i’m not gonna let that happen,” he mumbles in your ear, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he presses his lips to your head. he rocks you back and forth so similarly to that night, his hand running up and down your back as he tries to get you to calm down.

“we’re gonna get you help. real help. and we’ll all be here for you whenever you need us. you’re gonna be okay, my love.”

one year later:

you look back at the breakdown in your bathroom and are always surprised that you don’t feel embarrassed.

you think that was the moment when you finally realized how much you’d gone through and how much you really had to sort through. that you could distract yourself all you want and depend on san as much as you felt you needed but you still had things to work through. 

it took you about four therapist consultations to find the right one, eventually finding a sweet older woman who reminded you so much of your boss at the cafe. she listened to you and encouraged you and helped you find so much strength within yourself, you regret not taking your lawyer’s advice sooner about seeing a professional.

you still had bad days, of course, but now you’ve learned how to properly cope with them. cope with the stressors of everyday life, like the shouting of voices and the slamming of doors and san not being by your side 24/7. 

and san, little to your surprise, had done the right thing in saying you needed to learn to be independent.

it scared you at first, living alone and being alone with your thoughts and memories that tried to haunt you every chance they got. but now your life is so full of happy ones that it makes everything a little bit easier; you now love the freedom of living alone and have come to enjoy the peaceful silences of your apartment.

you now have so many things to laugh and feel happy about, like mingi and seonghwa’s obsession with gardening (even though they’ve moved on to vegetables now and have yet to combat the battle with squirrels eating their tomatoes). 

you have school and classes and friends that you made, making straight a’s while also balancing time with your study group, the boys and mrs. kim and your official boyfriend san. 

there are still some days when you wake up and feel a sinking feeling in your stomach that you think might be there forever, a certain smell or certain pain richoetting through your body that will remind you of what you went through and survived. 

but you know that you’ll be able to get through it, not only because you’re strong enough now but because you still have san to lean on - the boy in question currently with his arms wrapped tight around your waist and snoring down your neck. 

you can’t help the small smile on your face as you turn in his hold, your finger reaching out to trace the contours of his face. 

the warm, overwhelming feeling in your chest should scare you but it makes you feel even more happy and content with life, shutting your eyes immediately when his brown eyes meet yours. 

his loud chuckle fills the room before he lips attack your neck, quiet giggles leaving your mouth that only spur the blonde on more. 

“i saw that,” he mumbles playfully, smiling against your skin as your giggles get louder. “good morning, baby.” 

you pull back and smile at the boy staring down at you lovingly, the late-morning sun beaming through your window reminding you so much of the first time you saw him. 

heard his sweet, friendly voice that you immediately trusted and probably fell in love with right there.

"those are coming out really nice!" you hear a voice say from the yard next door. 

you shoot your head to the side to see a young man standing there, probably about your age, eyes kind and dimples poking out of his cheeks as he holds an overflowing white garbage bag.

your lips quirk up ever so slightly, probably being mistaken for your mouth twitching before you give him a tiny bow.

"thank you."

tag list: @mochibabycakes​ @atinyarmyx1​ @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich​ @minbinwhore​ @chrryhwa​ @chogiout​ @marksflvr​ @bunbaebae​ @markleeyeosang​ @inkigayeo​ @nlost21​ @toffee-hwa​

[detectivesvu]

Another Round (pt.2)

__

Rafael Barba x Fem. Reader

Warnings: None.

A/N: Part 1 is here :)

Word Count: 1,761

“You’re better than this. You’ve told me before, these things happen.”

__

The next few weeks passed by casually. Your job continued as it always did. New customers as well as your regulars came in for drinks for all kinds of reasons. You didn’t even know it was possible, but you were now enjoying your job so much more than you already did. Especially knowing that Rafael would be in every week. You weren’t sure if it was a coincidence or not, but he seemed to be coming in more and more often.

You had to admit, you were growing rather fond of him and very quickly to say the least. Suddenly, you found yourself hoping to see him every time the door to the bar opened. Every straight scotch you served to other customers was known in your mind as “Rafael’s usual”. You had a connection with him that you wanted to explore. Which is why you had taken him up on his offer. The morning after your first real encounter with him, you sent him a simple text. It didn’t establish anything serious. It was just a plain “good morning” text with a little sweet message thanking him for taking the time from his busy workload to chat with you. 

You had expected to get a response later that afternoon, considering that his mornings were probably extremely hectic. However, you were pleasantly surprised when you received a reply only a few short minutes after. He returned the thanks and began a little small talk conversation along with a few more get to know you questions to break the through-the-screen ice. It wasn’t until the next day that you began discussing plans to possibly get dinner sometime. He wasn’t shy to admit that he wanted to take you on a proper date once things settled down within the case he was still plugging away at. 

Your schedules differed heavily. You worked ungodly late hours and he was never really off the clock. If he was working, you were off and if you were working, he was semi-off. So, for now, your in person interactions were limited to the bar you considered your second home. That was fine for now, but eventually you’d tire of only seeing him at your place of work. You couldn’t wait until this case was over. 

He had mentioned briefly in one of your text conversations that in many aspects of his life, his work was above all else. You didn’t love that statement for a couple of reasons. For starters, how would that affect your relationship if you decided to pursue something serious? Secondly, how serious was he willing to take things between you and him? And lastly, that made you extremely worried for him as a whole. You couldn’t imagine always feeling like the bottom could drop out at any given moment. You wondered how many forgotten dinners and lovers he had previously.

Despite your concerns, the way you felt about him seemed to outweigh anything else. A testament to this was when he walked into the bar around 9:00 PM on Thursday night. It was particularly busy for a regular weekday. Naturally, Fridays and Saturdays were when you were slammed with customers. You usually had to have a partner behind the bar with you to stay on top of things. You were busy, but not so much that you failed to see him enter through the door.

You smiled brightly, a warm sensation tingling through your limbs. Your smile was quick to fade, however, when you saw his drooped shoulders and blank expression. You were puzzled at this, because he had been perfectly fine earlier in the day. He took an available seat at the middle of the bar, offering a slight smile once you were able to tend to him.

“Hey, Rafael,” You greeted cheerily, but with a worried tone; “You okay?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but his attention was caught to the TV that was above you. The late night news was on and your heart sank at the headline. Barba had lost the case he had been working on for so long. He buried his face into his palms and groaned;

“Turn it off. Change the channel. Anything, please.” He begged.

You reached for the remote under the bar, switching to some Thursday night NFL game. The other men in the bar cheered at the sight, which was good because they’d be content until their beers emptied out. You had a couple minutes until then.

“I’m sorry, Raf.” You comforted.

His heart skipped a beat at the use of his nickname, but even that wasn’t enough to boost his spirits. He shook his head in defeat, watching as you poured him a scotch straight without any previous instruction.

“I really thought we had it. I really did,” He confessed, taking the glass into his hand; “I should have won. The damn defense can go to hell for all I care.”

You shifted your weight onto one hip, hand pressed, and arm extended against the bar. What else were you supposed to say? You didn’t have much experience with lawyers fresh off of a hard loss. He looked so tired and so empty. His hair was tousled out of its usual neatness. The dark circles under his eyes were much more prominent. Overall, he just looked so...disappointed.

“Rafael,” You began to say, stunned at how hard he was beating himself up; “You’re better than this. You’ve told me before, these things happen.”

It was true. The week after he had asked you about your favorite story, you decided to cautiously ask him about his. Shockingly, it was the first case that he had lost as an attorney. Of course, he had not wanted to lose. Not even at all. But he told you how he worked sun up to sun down to make sure the defendant went down for what he did. In the end, the guy walked free. As discouraged as he was, he explained how he learned a lot about life just by that experience alone. He told how he suddenly realized that there were two sides to his profession. One of them was never pretty.

He sipped his scotch, eyes trained on the amber colored liquid as he let it swirl around the sides and splash back into the center. His head was lowered as he let himself become consumed with what ifs.

“Please, listen to me,” You requested softly. You continued once his eyes were on you; “You did absolutely everything you could. This isn’t a reflection of your abilities as a counselor.”

He was quick with his answer, but no change to his expression;

“Isn’t it, though?” He asked.

“No, it’s not. One loss doesn’t-”

You were interrupted by a loud voice calling for a refill at the other side of the bar. Looks like your couple minutes were up. You put your conversation on pause, briskly walking to the man with the empty beer mug. 

“Same as before?” You questioned the man with a hospitable smile. 

He confirmed your question as refilled his mug as well as the other men in need of refills. Rafael watched intently as you interacted with the other customers. You had quite the undeniable charm and outgoing personality. No wonder you had so many regular customers. He had been thinking about you pretty much every free second he had. He wanted to learn all about you. He was amazed with how content you were with working at a bar. Customer service workers? Not always the happiest people on the planet. 

He adored your positivity. He couldn’t wrap his head around how caring you were towards complete strangers that walked into your bar everyday. How you were able to know when someone had a terrible burden on their conscience was a mystery to him. He found himself wondering if you ever took the time to check on and take care of yourself. How did you handle the weight of the problems of others that you took on without hesitation?

You returned to Rafael shortly after;

“As I was saying: one loss doesn’t define you. You’ll move on from this with time. You’ll heal with it. Then you’ll be ready to bury the next guy.” You encouraged.

For the first time all day, Rafael offered a real smile. One that was like a window to see into the real man with a heart of gold. He was an amazing human being. If only everyone could be like him.

“You have a lot of faith in a man just coming from a brutal loss.” He stated.

You grinned;

“Of course. I have the utmost confidence in my favorite counselor.” 

His cheeks went red at your kind words. As incompetent as he felt in this moment, hearing you so proud of him was heartwarming. You refilled his empty glass and tended to the other customers at the bar for a few minutes. He watched as you bounced expertly from person to person, mixing drinks like you did it in your sleep. As the even later hours were approaching, the more and more your conversation was being interrupted. Your busy part of the shift was coming fast, so he had to act fast.

“When is your next night off?” Rafael asked over the loud hum of the now crowded bar.

You had a shaker in one hand and a glass in the other, your eyes darted to the ceiling in thought before responding;

“Sunday. Why?” You replied back, hoping he was about to ask what you thought he was about to.

“How about dinner on Sunday? Just you and me.” He offered a real date.

Your smile returned brighter than ever as you poured the drink from the shaker into the glass;

“Sure. 6:30?” You suggested.

He grimaced, but gave a rebuttal back;

“How about 7:00?” 

“Deal. It’s a date,” You agreed; “Italian?”

He shrugged;

“Fine by me,” He smiled; “See you then.”

You nodded, dancing over to the opposite end of the bar to continue working. Whether it was the rush from all the customers around the bar or the joy from finally being able to go on a date, your heart was racing in your chest. He exited the bar after smiling at you once more and leaving a tip. He walked down the sidewalk away from your bar, head full and heart happy. He left you behind with a hard blush along with your bottles, glasses, cups, and more. 

It was just the beginning for the counselor and his favorite bar tech.

[anythingandeverything1d]

The tape (part 7)

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Your pov:

You made it to the car before the tears started. They were rapidly falling down your cheeks, clouding your vision and your mind. Of course Niall had said that, of course he thought you were making a mistake going back to Harry so quickly. Hell, EVERYONE probably thought it was a mistake to trust him so easily again, but no one knew. They didn’t know how you felt, how Harry felt, or everything the two of you had gone through together. They knew nothing and yet they all had the audacity to judge your actions in the situation. You started the car, needing to get away from his house as fast as possible, but also having no idea where to go. You didn’t want to go home. You didn’t want Harry to see you like this and risk him getting upset and losing whatever feelings he had figured out with Niall, thus being the person to once again ruin One Directions already uncertain future. You also didn’t want to drive to Liam or Louis’ and involve them after your previous conversation where you told them to back off and let you and Harry figure it out on your own. You pulled out of the driveway, looking in the mirror as you left, Niall sitting on the porch in tears, calling out your name. You almost went back, almost gave him another chance to explain, but you also knew he needed to be sober and willing to talk before that would ever work out. 

You decided a drive would be good, but you didn’t have anywhere specific in mind you wanted to go. You just thought that a little wind in your hair with your music blaring was exactly the distraction you needed before going home to Harry and explaining the events that had unfolded. You turned the volume up, rolled the windows down and sang along, “why men great till they gotta be great, woo, I just took a DNA test, turns out, I’m 100% that bitch.” you stopped at the red light, quieting your singing when the car next to you looked over with concerned faces. You probably looked like a crazy woman, tear stained cheeks, puffy eyes, and singing Lizzy at the top of your lungs, it was almost a cry for help. You heard your phone buzzing and looked down at Harry’s name. You reached for the phone, which had fallen to the floor on the passenger’s side, when everything stopped, your vision went black, and the loud boom of a car hitting yours echoed through the intersection.

Harry’s pov:

It had been hours since (y/n) had left to go talk to Niall, HOURS. It shouldn’t have taken that long. Harry had texted her, called, and yet no response which was abnormal. Normally she would at least send a text back letting him know that everything was going okay. He had complete trust in her, but something wasn’t sitting right about the situation. He dialed Niall’s number, hoping to get some clarification but there was no answer from him either. He paced around the living room anxiously. What if she decided to chose Niall, what if she decided he was right, leaving Harry in the process. Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest, he had just gotten her back, he couldn’t lose her, not again. He clicked another contact and held the phone to his ear anxiously awaiting the answer. “Louis?”

“What do ya want now, fooking hell Harry, can’t seem to do anything without getting a call from you these days.”

“Sorry...sorry....it’s just-”

“Lemme guess, (y/n).”

“She’s been gone for hours...neither her or Niall are answering...I don’t know what to do.”

“Well I’m about to pull into Niall’s so I’ll let you know what they are up to.”

“Why are you at Niall’s?”

“He wanted to watch the game together. I didn’t know (y/n) was going over or I would’ve held off but I’m about there now so its a little late. I’ll send her home to you.”

Harry sighed and bit his lip, “I just want to know she’s okay...”

“I’m sure she is mate, just relax. I’m literally two minutes from his driveway.”

“You don’t think she would-”

“She’s not gettin it on with Niall. I think it’s pretty obvious who she loves and it isn’t the Irish lad.”

“Yeah, I’m probably just overreacting.”

“Exactly. Okay, I’m pulling in now. I don’t see her car...did she drive herself?”

“Yeah...yeah she would have her car.”

“Well maybe she’s on her way home...hang on Niall is on the porch, I’ll ask him.”

“Okay..” Harry’s nerves were going insane, he couldn’t even stand still. Something just didn’t feel right.

“Niall, when did (y/n) leave...” he heard Louis shouting to Niall but couldn’t quite make out the answer. “Are you sure?”

“What? What is it?”

“Niall says she left an hour ago.” Harry’s heart sank. If she wasn’t at Niall’s where was she? “I’m sure everything is okay...” Louis tried to reassure him, but it wasn’t working. 

Harry hung up and dialed her number again, but there was still no answer. He called again, “come on (y/n).....answer.....answer....” No answer. He hung up and texted her, *everything okay? where are you?* He sat down and tried to think of what else to do...he might be able to track the phone but that wasn’t likely..she had blocked him from her location after the sex tape leaked. *Just let me know you are okay....Im getting worried* He dropped the phone to the couch and picked up the remote to turn on the tv, maybe some Friends would take his mind off it. He clicked resume on the episode and tried to focus but his phone buzzing immediately had his hopes up. “(y/n)?” he answered before looking at the number.

“No. It’s me.”

“Louis what the hell.”

“Turn on the news...”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Fine.” He turned the tv to cable and went to the local news station. “All I see is they are reporting an accident....”

“Yeah. Doesn’t that look like (y/n)’s car though?” 

Harry’s breath was pulled from his chest as he anxiously waited for the car to be shown. There it was. A black car, he couldn’t quite make out the model but it looked like (y/n)’s. “We are currently awaiting police reports from the incident but can confirm there are two dead, and three that were care flighted in critical condition after the accident occurred. We will have more information for you right after the break.”

“Harry?” Louis’ voice cut through the silence. “It’s probably not her...”

“It was her car. I know it was. I mean I think-”

“Why don’t you come over to Niall’s and we can wait for more news...You shouldn’t be alone.”

“Yeah...yeah okay I will.”

“Alright good. See you soon.” Louis hung up and Harry grabbed his keys, trying to shake the thought from his head. Two dead.....was she one of the two? Was she in the hospital? Was she okay? His heart sank, the feeling of pressure on his chest. She had to be okay.

He drove to Niall’s fast, faster than he should’ve. He almost drove by the accident site, just to confirm if it was her car, but the traffic was lined up miles down the road as they had shut the intersection down due to the accident. He made it to Niall’s and pushed through the door, tears already in his eyes. “Are there any updates?” he sat down on the couch not even looking at Niall and Louis. Louis shifted uncomfortably and looked at Niall who put his head down. Harry looked over at them, his eyes searching for answers.

“Well...they explained that the white car there, they weren’t paying attention or some shit and slammed into the two other cars, the black and the what color is that? Green?” Louis was trying to explain it but Harry could barely listen as they showed the totaled cars.

“Two died so far, the other three are in the hospital with serious injuries.” Niall finished. He looked at Harry and sighed like he wanted to say more but also that he understood the situation and that it wasn’t the time.

“Is (y/n) okay?” Liam came walking in, looking around at the others sitting on the couch. 

“We don’t know...there hasn’t been any news.” Louis said looking at Harry for any sign of emotion. Harry didn’t know what to feel. He felt hollow, like there was nothing left. He felt the way he had when (y/n) had pushed him away at Louis’ the night he tried talking to her. If (y/n) was gone, there was no hope left for him, he wasn’t sure he would ever be okay again without her.

“Well has anyone had any contact with her?” Liam was trying to be logical, trying to debunk the theory that it wasn’t her.

“Niall was the last one who talked to her.” Harry spat, looking at Niall. “He was the one who saw her last.”

“Did she say where she was going?” Liam looked at Niall who shook his head.

“We didn’t- she didn’t- we didn’t really end on the greatest of terms.”

Harry laughed, frustrated with the whole situation. “Of course.”

“What’s that supposed ta mean?” Niall stood up walking towards Harry.

“It means, she came to give you a second chance and you must've fucking blew it.”

“You know why I blew it?” Niall poked Harry’s chest. “Because I told her it was a fuckin mistake to trust you and go back to you after you fuckin cheated on her.”

Harry pushed Niall back, “You know what the mistake was? Trusting you with the sex tape secret. If I had told anyone else we wouldn’t be in this problem.”

“I should’ve told her the minute I found out, then at least her leaving you would've been on account for your actions and not mine.”

“She’s not leaving me.” Harry growled. “We are working things out.”

“Oh yeah?” Niall mocked. “Then why was she here? Why was she trying to talk ta me about the sex tape, about everything that happened?”

“Because she’s a better person than you will ever be. She’s trying to mend the relationship she had with you, so that you two can stay friends.”

“Friends? I wouldn’t say that. I think there’s something more there than she wants ta admit.”

“She told me she thought of you like a brother. Maybe you shouldn’t even get the title of friend though after breaking her down once again..”

“Then why did she let me kiss her huh?” Harry didn’t even say anything, his fist collided with Niall’s cheek, sending Niall stumbling back. Louis grabbed Niall, and Liam grabbed Harry, separating them before anything else could happen. “That’s right. She could be dead and the last person to kiss her was me. How’s that make ya feel Harry?”

“Both of you need to shut the fuck up. This isn’t helping anything.” Liam let go of Harry and stepped between him and Niall.

“Seriously. All that should matter is (y/n).” Louis relaxed his grip on Niall and looked at Harry. “You two need to figure out your differences as well, this is getting old. Niall, (y/n) doesn’t love you the way you love her. It’s been obvious for years and we should’ve said something then. Harry you can’t blame Niall. You can only blame the other car for hitting her, if it even is her we don’t know.”

“Louis’ right.” Liam stepped back. “Niall you kissing (y/n) was just stupid, I mean what did you expect would happen. I think anyone of us would hit you after admitting that. Now you two work this out, Louis and I are going to call and order dinner since this seems like it could be a long night.”

Louis and Liam left the room, leaving Niall and Harry sitting on the couch glaring at each other. Neither wanted to speak first, but someone was going to have to. Niall touched his cheek where Harry had hit him and winced. “It was a good shot.” Niall commented.

“Thanks...been working on it for a while.” 

“I can tell, really got me good. PR is gonna have a fit when it bruises.” Harry laughed and tried to be mad, but Niall sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I only did it to see if there was something there. She pushed me off immediately though, said she only ever loved you. I should’ve accepted it but I pushed her farther and she left upset. It’s my fault she is where she is now”

“No.” Harry shook his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s not mine.” He looked over at Niall. “This was wrong place, wrong time. The rest of the situation doesn't matter. So you kissed her, or got into an argument about me being a dick, you can’t control her, no one can.” Harry laughed lightly. “That’s something I’ve always loved about her. She never does what she’s told. She's too independent for that.” He stood up, pacing the room again, trying to distract himself from the situation.

“She's going to be okay.” Niall stood up and walked over, pulling Harry into a tight hug. Harry felt the tears falling down his cheek, he held tightly onto Niall and nodded.

“Now that’s better.” Louis nodded approvingly.  He carried a couple beers out and offered them up. Niall took one, downing most of it in one sip but Harry pushed the bottle away. He wasn’t in the mood, not when he didn't know where (y/n) was or if she was okay....or alive.

“Have you checked your phone at all Harry?” Liam asked sitting down with a bag of chips. 

Harry looked around and shook his head. “I thought the sound was on and haven't heard anything but I’m not sure...” He grabbed his phone from the floor and looked at it. There were a few twitter notifications but other than that nothing. He dropped it to the couch and stood up. “Should I call the hospital and ask?”

Louis shook his head, “you’re not family, they won’t give you any information even if she is there.”

“Maybe you could call her family?” Niall suggested.

“Who was her emergency contact?” Liam asked, taking another handful of chips from the bag Niall had stolen.

“I was...I’m not sure if she changed it or not...” Harry’s head dropped and he stared at the phone, willing it to give him some kind of answer.

“Check your home camera’s, maybe she made it home and her phone is dead or somethin.” Liam suggested.

Harry pulled up the livestream and shook his head. “She’s not home.” He sighed, “Maybe I should just drive by the scene and explain the situation. They might be able to give me some answ-” Harry’s phone ringing stopped him dead. He stared at the name and wave of relief washed through him when her name popped up. “(y/n), thank god, you had me worried sick.”

“Mr. Styles, this is Officer Watson..” Harry’s heart fell, the phone fell out of his hand and he sat there frozen, unable to answer. Something had happened to her.

Louis picked up the phone, “Hello? Ah, yes, Officer Watson, this is Louis Tomlinson how do you do?” He looked at Harry and then at the others and then at his feet. “Yes, I’ve got Harry here with me...yeah...yeah I do believe that’s correct that he was her emergency contact....” Harry looked up with tears in his eyes and Louis bit his lip. “Is she- is she okay?”

“Put him on speaker mate.” Liam whispered. 

Louis put it on speaker and continued on, “Yeah...yeah we saw there was an accident...is she okay though?”

Everyone held there breath, Harry looked like he was about to pass out, Niall looked sick, and Liam just looked nervous. “Well...the accident was pretty bad, and unfortunately-” Harry broke into a sob, interrupting the answer and Louis shook his head.

“Sorry about that, do continue.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately (y/n) was injured in the accident. She was taken to the hospital unconscious. I don’t have any more information to share with you, but did want to let you know she will be there and that they are accepting Harry Styles, as her medical contact to show up eventually. Sorry to have to inform you of this...if you have any questions contact our department, otherwise, we hope everything works out.”

“Yes...yeah, thank you mate, Harry will be on his way. We will contact you with more questions in the future. Alright bye.” Louis hung up and handed Harry’s phone to him. Harry’s eyes were rimmed with red already, his breathing fast and unnatural. “Harry...” Louis tried shaking him, looking at the other guys for help. “Harry you need to go to the hospital..”

“What if she’s dead?” 

“He said she was alive when she got there, so come on.” Louis grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him up. “If she wakes up alone, she’s going to be scared to death, do you really want that? Do you want her waking up alone?”

Harry shook his head and stood up. “Will...will you guys come as well?” They nodded and Louis grabbed his keys, ushering everyone in the car. 

The drive to the hospital was silent, no one in the mood to talk and the only sound was coming from Harry who holding back sobs. Louis pulled up to the ER and let Harry out so that he could run inside while they parked the car. 

Harry walked up to the desk, wiping his tears and holding his breath, unsure of what he was about to find.”Hi, uhm I’m Harry Styles...my girlfriend (y/n) was brought in here from an accident....the...the officer said that I would be able to come in and and see her....”

The nurse looked up at him with her mouth open, clearly not expecting Harry Styles to walk in. Harry nervously tapped the counter, waiting for her to answer. He wiped a tear that was falling and stared at the girl again. Louis, Liam, and Niall came running up behind him, looking at the girl as well. “Did ya find anythin out?” Niall asked.

“Not yet...” Harry mumbled. “Excuse me...I’m looking for (y/n)...she was brought in by ambulance or or by careful flight im not exactly sure...”

The nurse stared again, looking from one boy to the other, mouth open in shock. Louis was getting impatient, tapping his foot. “Okay. If you won't give us answers we will find someone else.”

“No..No sorry. Uh, yes. (y/n)....(y/n)...ah she came in an hour or so ago with the other victims of the accident. Uh she is still unconscious...” she looked at the boys again. “I have Harry listed as the emergency contact which means he is able to go into the room but until she's transferred out of the ICU, he’s the only visitor allowed. Her room number is 12A. It’s on the left down this hallway.” she pointed to the right and smiled.

“We will wait out in the car for you Harry. Let us know what happens okay?” Liam clapped Harry on the back and pulled him into a hug. The other guys nodded and followed Liam out while Harry moved to the right side of the hallway. 

“12A....12A....” he finally came to the room. The door was closed and lights dimmed. He had no idea what he was walking into but he knew he needed to see her. He pushed open the door, his breath catching as his eyes caught sight of her. She was unconscious...just as the nurse had said, her small frame in the big bed. Her face had a nasty bruise and some cuts, but other than that he couldn’t tell the damage. He sat in the chair next to the bed and gripped her hand, softly rubbing his fingers over the cold skin. She was ice cold. He placed a kiss on her palm and then touched his head to the back of her hand, whispering, “(y/n)....(y/n) if you- if you can hear me....I-I just wanted to let you know I’m here....and I’m not going anywhere.”

---

So I know this seems a little dramatic....BUT I wanted it to be something big that brought everyone back together....ALSO since I’m already on part 7....I figured I would extend the story to make it an even 10 parts...Now the 10th part is actually just going to be the story and all the parts added together in one extra large story so stayed tuned!

Will (y/n) wake up? Will she be okay? Will she remember Harry and the boys? Will they make it through the next hurdle? 

xoxo

[tails89]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Fluff and Humor, domestic sterek - Freeform, Two boys chilling on a rainy day, mentions of sex and nudity but nothing explicit, A Very Sterek Winter Fest 2021 Series: Part 2 of A Very Sterek Winter 2021 Summary:

@averysterekwinter​  prompt 2: California Winter

“It’s never going to stop raining,” Stiles whines, staring out the window. “We’re going to waste the whole weekend stuck inside.” He twists around so that he’s no longer hanging over the back of the couch.

“We could go and see a movie,” Derek suggests, ducking an errant limb as Stiles makes himself comfortable.

“I never thought I would say this.” Stiles flops back, pillowing his head on Derek’s thigh. “But I’m so sick of movies.” He lets out a long and aggrieved sigh. “I’m sorry Der, you came all the way up here to visit and we haven’t even done anything.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Derek says, tangling his fingers in Stiles’ hair. “We’ve had a lot of sex.”

“Mm,” Stiles’ eyes drift shut under his boyfriend’s gentle scratches. “All the sex.” He jerks upright. “Hey, none of that. We already spent most of yesterday napping, you will not put me to sleep with your magic werewolf fingers.”

“That’s what he said.”

“Dude, that’s not even how you do it.” Stiles laughs, waving a finger in Derek’s face when the ‘Were opens his mouth. “Don’t even think about it.” He warns. “How am I the mature one in this relationship?”

“Maybe you’re just rubbing off on me.”

“That’s what he said.”

Groaning, Derek drops his face into his hands. “I walked right into that one.”

“Yup.” Stiles kicks his feet up onto the coffee table. “Actually, speaking of walking, we should go on one.”

“Stiles, it’s pouring with rain.”

“Which means no one will be around and you can be free to frolic in the park.” Stiles shifts again on the couch. “Tell me you aren’t as antsy as I am to get out and run. The full moon is two days away and you’ve been cooped up in my apartment.”

“It hasn’t been that bad,” Derek says, shrugging.

“Lies.” Stiles stands and wanders off to his room to find his shoes, calling back over his shoulder. “I know you Derek Hale and I know what the moon does to you.” He reappears to lean against the door frame. “I am genuinely concerned that my dick will fall off if we have any more sex this weekend.”

“Thanks for that visual,” Derek grumbles rising from the couch.

Stiles blows him a kiss and disappears back into his room. He returns a few seconds later, shrugging into his coat.

“You should shift here,” he says, sitting on the edge of the coffee table to lace up his shoes. “Won’t have to worry about your clothes getting muddy.”

“That’ll go well if we run into one of your neighbours,” Derek points out. Still, he tugs his Henley up over his head and kicks off his shoes.

“Most people are pretty unobservant,” Stiles says, standing. “I’ll just say you’re a husky or something. No one will question it.”

Derek raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, unbuckling his pants while Stiles looks on appreciatively. Once in his wolf form, he trots over to the door to wait for Stiles.

They make it to the ground floor without running into anyone and step out into the rain.

“I take it all back,” Stiles whines, tucking his hands into his pockets. “This was the worst idea ever. It’s too cold for walking.” He tries to step back under the shelter of the apartment building, but Derek bumps into the back of his legs, nipping at him until he starts walking. “You are the worst,” Stiles tells Derek, kicking his foot through a puddle and splashing the wolf.

Derek sneezes and shakes the water from his face. With a huff, he turns and heads for the park, forcing Stiles to jog to keep up. He disappears as soon as they hit the trees, darting into the thick wet foliage.

“Derek?” Stiles wanders in after him. “If try and scare me, I’m breaking up with you.” There’s a long howl off to his left and he changes direction, searching for the source. “Should have put a lead on him, that would show h—oof!”

A large, black, wet, mass hits Stiles from behind, sending him sprawling in the mud.  Blinking the rain out of his eyes, he scowls up at the wolf standing over him.

“Oh, you are in so much trouble.” He warns.

Derek yawns, his tongue lolling in a wolfish grin. The he ducks his head, swipes his tongue across Stiles’ face and bounces away.

“You are so dead!” Stiles yells scrambling upright, his feet slipping and sliding in mud.

They run around the park until the cold and wet finally get to Stiles. He slumps across the wolf’s back, his feet just grazing the ground.

“You’ll have to carry me home,” he says, burying his face in the thick fur of Derek’s neck. “I can’t move. I’m a popsicle.” He keeps up the charade until they break the tree line.

The heavy rain has cleared to a soft drizzle and the short winter day has dulled to an early dusk, so they’re not afraid of being spotted on their way back to the apartment. Still, they make the mad dash towards Stiles’ building, looking forward to changing out of wet clothes and wet fur.

Letting them both into the apartment, Stiles hangs his coat up to dry by the front door.

“I’m so cold!” He starts shedding layers. His jeans and sweater are soaked despite the protection of his jacket. “You’re a menace.”

“You’re just jealous you lost.” Derek reaches for the jeans he’d thrown over the couch earlier. He is otherwise buck naked in the middle of the living room.

Stiles tugs on the waistband of his briefs. Not even his underwear was spared from the rain.

“I lost because you’re a werewolf with superhuman speed and smell”—he lists them off on his fingers as he crosses the floor— “and sight and reflexes”— he disappears into his bedroom, raising his voice as he goes—“and hearing.”

He reappears in a pair of sweats and a hoody. His face is still chapped and rosy from the cold.

“All I got are these bad boys,” he finishes, wiggling his fingers.

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” Derek asks, settling in on the couch.

“They can do this.” Stiles stands behind the couch and runs his fingers through Derek’s hair. “See. Good right?” He strokes them down the back of Derek’s neck. “Do I win now?”

“Nope.”

“Rude.” Reaching down, Stiles jabs his fingers into his boyfriend’s ticklish sides. Derek retaliated by grabbing him and pulling him over the back of the couch and into his lap.

“Fine. Fine. You win.” Stiles surrenders, raising his hands in defeat. They stay like that for a minute before Stiles starts wiggling again. “Today, was actually pretty good,” he says, tucking in closer to Derek to try and leach some of his warmth. “It wasn’t a complete waste in the end.” He strains to reach his phone, not wanting to pull away from his werewolf space heater. “You know what would make it perfect?”

“What?”

“Take out.” Stiles gives up on his phone and makes grabby hands for Derek’s. “I’m thinking pizza. “Oh,” he opens one of the food delivery apps, “and we could watch a movie.” He confirms the order and hands back the phone.

“Sure,” Derek reaches for the remote to turn on the TV. “Just gimme a second to get it up.”

“That’s what he said.”

Derek hits him with a pillow.

[calumrose]

Trigger [Police/Gang!AU] Chapter 5 || C.H

A//N: This is definitely the biggest piece I have written to date, but I’m really proud of it. It’s probably the heftiest piece I have ever tried to write but I really felt like this scene was a major point in the story so it didn’t deserve to be written with my eye watching the word count. Enjoy!

Word Count: 13.1k 

Summary: Eloise Gray and Calum Hood, not two people you would ever think to put together. What started as a ploy for power turned into a romance, resulting in the realisation that loving your enemy may not be such a bad thing after all.

Previous Chapters: Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

20 Days Left

Spending the last twenty minutes arguing over which movie to watch wasn’t exactly how Eloise had planned for the night to go. Calum stood opposite the couch meanwhile Eloise sat comfortably, attempting to listen to Calum’s pitch over which movie they should watch, claiming for his choice of movie to be the better option.

“But Fight Club is a classic, c’mon, El!” His eyes were wide as he stood in front of her, his broad posture blocking the black TV screen as he waved his arms around, his voice pleading for the girl he was spending his evening with to be convinced by his plea.

“Is this how you try to convince wanted criminals to confess?” The teasing manner of her voice couldn’t be hidden, crossing her legs over one another and she leaned back on his black couch, “It’s very cute.”

“Can we just focus for a minute and pick a movie?” Calum sighed, letting out a playful groan of frustration as he held the remote in his hand, aimlessly pointing it behind him at the blank TV screen.

“I thought I was picking the movie anyway, or at least that’s what we agreed,” Her hands worked as she unlocked her phone, pulling up their text messages where she recited the text he had sent, Sure, you choose. Sounds good. “By the sounds of that, you were agreeing to let me pick the movie. And right now, it seems as though you’re going back on your word – not exactly the best message to be giving out as a respected police officer.” Her voice slowed as she finished her sentence, each syllable clear as day.

Eloise watched as his expression softened, his familiar bright smile spreading across his lips, his cheeks pushing up and the little crinkles by the corners of his eyes made their debut. God, that smile. Eloise couldn’t think of a prettier sight. “I suppose I did, huh?” He let a single breath of laughter escape his plump lips, walking back over to the couch as he handed her the remote.

She let her hands do the work, expertly swiping through the selection of movie titles he had collected, her eyes scanning each individual name before her eyes fell on the familiar one that brought a smile to her face as the memory of the first time she watched the movie came to mind.

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve seen this movie before?” He smirked, chuckling as he watched her finger linger on the ‘select’ button for a few seconds as she read the familiar movie description of ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ that she should have been able to recite, “And by that, I mean, a few times.”

“It’s one of the best movies ever made, you can’t fight me on this,” She laughed as she pressed play, allowing the opening credits to begin to play through his TV speakers, “It’s an absolute masterpiece and Heath Ledger is by far the best part of the entire movie!”

Calum couldn’t hide the happy crease in his face as he watched as his date seemed to get giddy at the thought of the ninety’s movie. It brought a warm feeling to his stomach, as if it pleased him to see her happy. It made him feel as though it was all he wanted; to see her happy.

The familiar angsty music filled the room as they eventually fell to silence and allowed their eyes to fixate on the screen, watching as it played out. Scenes that Eloise could swear she had watched a hundred times played out in front of her eyes, her ability to recite the scenes being one she fought against, trying to enjoy the moment and imagine she was re-watching the favourite movie of hers for the first time all over again.

Eloise smiled at the iconic scene where Patrick, played by Ledger, publicly announced his attraction for Julia Stiles’ character, bursting into the famous rendition of ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You’ by Frankie Valli, the scene bringing a nostalgic smile to her face as it had done for years. She could remember the giddy flutter of butterflies that erupted in her stomach at the scene without failure every time she witnessed it. Her smile only grew when she spotted Calum to her left, his lips gently moving as he mumbled along the cheerful tune.

Throughout the movie she couldn’t fight her eyes naturally drifting to the golden handsome man who laid out on the couch beside her, his bicep bulging as his arm curled behind his head, the sight proving difficult to not be seen. She watched as the crinkles by his eyes appeared as he smiled, his laughter echoing throughout the room at the sound of the terrible jokes that were thrown around throughout the movie, the godawful humour being something newer movies no longer carried; the kind of humour to bring a cherished smile to anyone’s face. Her own smile naturally grew at the scene where Mr Stratford confirms that he’s allowing Kat to attend her dream school, but also depleted just as quickly as the poem scene came into play.

Eloise’s eyes focus on the movie playing out, every word of Kat’s recited poem playing in her mind. Her heart clenching ever so slightly when Kat begins to break, talking about how hates it when Patrick makes her laugh and even more when he makes her cry. She doesn’t even fight the pull of her eyes to Calum, watching him from the corner of her eyes, feeling the sting of salty tears brimming behind her eyes, unable to understand where they were suddenly coming from. She held back a shaky breath as she continued to listen as the scene unfolded, the emotions conveyed on screen somehow being taken on by the individual sitting on the couch as she watched it play.

She strained her eyes as she tried to push back the sting, silently cursing herself for letting her emotions get to her caused by a scene of a movie she had watched countless times and had never cried at before. She didn’t understand why she felt so tense and emotional during the movie, hating to admit to herself that she had felt rather on edge the entire time ever since she pressed play, initially playing it off as just excited jitters from watching a movie that she loved.

And then the final scene rolled in, Eloise’s stomach clenching almost painfully tight, she attempted to ready herself for what was coming; a scene that unintentionally broke Eloise’s dark heart throughout the years without fail.

Patrick’s simple yet powerful confession was one that stuck with Eloise throughout the years for no reason in particular, it always held a special place in her heart. But this time, as she sat with Calum and watched the short finale play out, she couldn’t stop the single tear roll down her cheek, the sneaky salt ridden droplet escaping her eye without her knowledge.

The whole plot of the movie made seemed to finally sense to Eloise; almost as if she lived it. Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Patrick was bought with cash and used as a pawn so someone else could get the benefits of the service he was being paid to carry out. It related quite immensely to her situation, except instead of money she was bought with threats and unfulfilled promises. But much like how Patrick had begun to fall for Kat for real, the money merely becoming a forgotten matter, Eloise realised that she was falling for Calum just like Patrick with Kat, the threats and empty promises that were directed to her simply becoming a dismembered thought.

It was as if Eloise was Patrick and Calum were Kat; a difficult individual who was instructed to play with someone’s emotions for a cruel antagonist’s own personal gain, only to realise after a short amount of time, how fantastic and mesmerising the victim of their game truly was. That’s what was getting to Eloise, that’s what was making her feel as though the movie was so applicable to how she felt.

She was convinced for so long that it was all psychological, all part of the game, only to find that the only game that was being played was with herself; toying with her own emotions until she was at breaking point. Her admission that she made to Paige a few days ago never left her, the unexpected yet powerful confession playing on her mind the entire build up to the date and even more so as they sat in one another’s company. She had fallen for him so quickly, it left her dazed, the thought of her heart feeling so warm and comforted by a man who she didn’t even know existed last week, was one that sent her head into a frenzy.

Eloise didn’t even hear the ending credits roll in, her ears becoming deaf to the sound of the familiar music before she felt a gentle tap on the side of her leg. She shook her head in a tight quick movement, clearing her throat as she looked over to Calum, finding his eyes already on her, a look of concern laced on his face.

She didn’t even flinch when he sat up, his toned arm reaching out as his thumb wiped the single wet tear from her skin, a soft smile on his face as his whispered a gentle, “What’s wrong?” It felt as if his skin contained the heat of a thousand suns, his skin eliciting a heat within her body that she tried to ignore.

The laugh was forced as it left her lips, her chest visibly shaking as she mustered the words to respond, “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Stupid romance movies get me when I least expect it, you know how it is.” She played it off with a gentle shrug, pursing her lips as she sat forward on the couch, letting the credits on the TV play out until they came to an end, a soft silence filling the room as the screen faded back to the selection menu.

Was it possible to feel so close to someone without spending much time with them? Was it normal to feel such a strong, warm sensation in your gut at the thought of them? Were you supposed to think about them in your spare time when you were apart? Were strangers supposed to feel this for other strangers?

It felt as though it was some form of forbidden connection that she couldn’t ignore no matter how hard she tried. But that’s what made it exciting; fuelling her with a stomach of butterflies that she wanted to feel again and again. Calum felt it too, the pull between the two of them getting stronger and stronger without them fully realising. It only caused Calum’s wish to know her to grow, feeling as if there were something more to her, something that made her different to everyone else. It fuelled a desire in him, one that he couldn’t fight, and neither could she when it came to her own.

“Can I ask you something? It’s probably gonna sound a bit bizarre but- “ She stopped herself, taking a calming breath as she thought for a moment, trying to find her words before she spoke, “Have you ever been involved with something that started off small, practically harmless, but before you even knew what was happening, it was completely out of hand? Almost as if you blinked and suddenly you were in too deep and had no way out?”

Calum thought for a minute, her question playing in his mind as he tried to think of an answer, contemplating giving a poetic answer about life but his brain couldn’t work fast enough to come up with one, the response he gave just being a simple one. “I know what you mean, something starting off as one thing then turning into something you never intended. I’ve had a few experiences like that; some better than others.”

Her breath turned unsteady, her chest shaking as she looked up at him as he spoke, watching as he wore his classic boyish smile with ease. It was ridiculous when she thought about it; how such a simple twist of his mouth could make her feel as though she was dancing. A dance that she was never taught, a dance that felt so wrong it was right. She felt as though her mind was torn in two, as if she had the devil and the angel perched on her shoulders as two voices screamed at her from two directions, only adding to the collection of voices that yelled at her on a daily basis, only confusing her further.

The events of the past few days played out in her memory, as clear as if she were watching them on the TV screen in Calum’s living room. She replayed every moment with him, each image being filled with boyish smiles and genuine laughter, soft touches being exchanged as if either body would vanish if touched with anything either than delicacy. The memory of the night at Mooney’s was the next memory to flood in, the sight of the young blond on the floor being fresh in her mind, the cold-hearted actions of Jay twisting her gut in pain as she recalled the poor life that was lost. The promise she made to herself replayed, assuring that she would end this, assuring that no more innocent people would die at the hand of the Gypsy Kings.

She tried to fight against familiar sounds that basked in the space in her head; a million voices rattling in circles at a million miles per hour. But there was one that stood out. The voice who screamed at her yet was soothing, it didn’t match the volume, but it made sense in a weird way. The voice sounded familiar, the smooth comforting voice assured her that what she felt was right, that the way she was feeling was how it was meant to be, that it made sense.

God, it sounded so familiar that it almost felt like home. It was so distant yet so near, a sound she almost didn’t recognise yet knew straight away.

It spoke as if it was advising her, assuring her that she was okay to feel this way. ‘Follow your heart’ it spoke, ‘Do what you know you need to’. It battled against every other voice, making its presence grand, well-known, and proud as it took centre stage, drowning out the screaming inside of every negative voice, only assurance and confirmation of what she knew being repeated inside.

‘You need to tell him’ The faint whisper tickled her ear as she focused on nothing but that one sound.

Eloise knew. She knew she had to tell him everything, but she was afraid. What was going to stop him from arresting her then and there? He was a respected police detective; everyone knew that. Why would he risk his career and bend the rules just to help her out? So, he had gone on a few dates with her, kissed a few times, it wasn’t like they had slept together or said they were anything more than people who were getting to know one another… There was nothing to give any indication that he wouldn’t toss every moment they spent together aside to abide the one simple rule he followed every day: the law.

But what’s the point if worrying about the risk if she wasn’t going to take it?

The TV screen turned to black, Eloise’s hand placing the remote onto the coffee table before she turned in place, pulling one leg up onto the couch while the other remained planted on the floor, her body facing where Calum sat. She had to it. Eloise rolled her lips into her mouth, taking a deep but trembling breath as she prepared to lay it all out in the open for the man opposite her, she was ready to lay herself on the line.

“Calum, um… I really need to tell you something and I…” She let out a heavy sigh as she glanced down at her white socks before looking back up, keeping her eyes low so they didn’t meet his, finding a focal point on a loose thread of his couch cushion. “I’ve got something big I need to tell you and I don’t know, god… I don’t know how you’re going to react, but any reaction is justified for what I’ve done. I’m so sorry for I’m about to say to you, and I swear, if you want me to leave and never show my face again then that’s fine. All I’m going to ask of you, is that you let me say my piece before you kick me out.”

The change in Calum’s body language didn’t have to be seen to be noticed. It shifted like the tension in the room; stiff and nerve-wracking. It didn’t do anything for the rush of hysteria the flowed through Eloise’s veins, the feeling very quickly being one she wanted to be rid of as soon as possible.

“Ever since that night I met you – my birthday – I haven’t been the same. It’s felt as though there’s been this unbearable rush, like I’m on a rollercoaster and I can’t get off. It only gets more intense every time that I’m with you, or when I think about you, and I don’t know how to stop it,” She swallowed a growing lump in her throat, trying to gain some form of control she never knew existed when she was him, “But I’ve been living a lie with you, my intentions weren’t good at the beginning, I was cruel and I led you on… But that changed when I got to see you for who you really were. It was as if something clicked; nothing particularly monumental but still just as powerful,” She played with the rings on her fingers, trying to find some form of distraction that would stop her voice from breaking, trying to stop herself from breaking, “It’s felt as if there’s been this seed in the back of my mind that’s been growing ever since, one that I tried so hard to ignore, pretending as though it wasn’t there or that it was going to be what destroyed me, but it kept telling me that I couldn’t follow through with the plan. It stopped me from making a big mistake.”

It was if she were awaiting a response that she knew she wouldn’t get just yet. She was nowhere near finished with her confession; she was only getting started. She had set herself up, now all she had to do was take the killer shot.

“I’m a Gypsy King.”

The words left her without time to think of softer blow. She knew she had to get it out into open; what better to do that than to just say it. She awaited the feeling of the walls closing in, for the floor to sink and swallow her whole, for Calum to stand up and arrest her there and then, for him to shout and recite the godawful slogan every police officer thrived on when they made an arrest. She waited to the jingle of cuffs, but what she didn’t expect was for them to never come. She never saw what was coming next, never mind the chance to prepare for it, or the words that she didn’t think she would hear.

“I know,” The words sat in the air for a few seconds, carving their way through the thick tension that clouded the large room. It was as if they paved the way for them to open into a conversation; an adult conversation that no one, not even them, would have thought would be needing to be had. Neither having expected to have fallen for someone leading a polar opposite lifestyle; one law-abiding and the other law-breaking. “I’ve known since that day we met at the café. My partner warned me about you being dangerous, and I wanted to know just how. So, I looked up your name in the NYPD records, and I found your file. I found the arrests, the non-guilty verdict for possession, as well as the others. Quite frankly, El, I’ve seen a lot worse. It would seem you’re not as dangerous as some make out.”

Calum could remember the files that had sat open on his computer distinctly, the names of the Gray’s and the tragedies that attached themselves to said name were heart-breaking. Something he knew he wouldn’t bring himself to hash out in front of her; having more compassion that most to withhold knowledge like that against someone who was deemed to be an enemy of the NYPD.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you from the beginning. I should have told you that morning when I found out you were a cop. From the minute I saw that photograph in your hall, I should have just left and saved us both the trouble, but then you came out and stopped me, flashing that annoyingly charming smile and I couldn’t make myself walk away,” Eloise let out a heavy sigh, her arm wrapping around her bent knee as she pulled it into her chest, as if to hold onto something to ground her. It felt as though she had a ten-ton weight pressing on her chest, the tightness almost painful as she dreaded how much more she still had to confess, a layer of sweat making its presence known on the back of her neck, baby hairs becoming damp as they clung to her skin as she found the strength to continue, “It was only supposed to be a stupid game; nothing real. It was all planned out, I was set out to be a rat for them, to worm my way in and create holes in whatever knowledge you guys had in anything to do with us. None of this was supposed to happen,” She pointed between the two of them, “I wasn’t supposed to get attached, I wasn’t supposed to feel anything real. I didn’t want to do it, please believe me when I say I didn’t, but it was either I do this, or I become the next member of my family to be found with a bullet in them.” To say she felt sick to say the words weren’t even close, her stomach twisting and turning while her throat became as dry as the desert, “I was selfish and wanted to live. My hand was twisted behind my back and I had no choice, but then it was as if something began to crack, as if my concern for whether I lived or not seemed to lessen as time went on it, which leads to me where I am right now.”

The pain in her face was visible, unable to be dismissed as she sat there and let her emotions bare themselves for all to see. It was as if she were holding her heart in her hands, waiting for it to take a final beat before it would break and vanish into thin air.

“And what am I supposed to do?” Calum’s voice echoed in her ears, his face unreadable although his tone was laced with irritation, as if unable to comprehend what was happening right now. You and her both, Calum.

Eloise still couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, the chocolate swirls she would find gold speckles in that usually filled her with warmth would only fill her with dread as she awaited the unknown outcome of this session in a makeshift confessional.

She knew how twisted it sounded; how it was lies turned into truth. She feared what Calum thought, what was stopping him from letting his emotions take over and ending everything there and then. How was he supposed to react? She couldn’t blame him for being angry or upset. But she couldn’t help but hope that somewhere inside his heart he could see that the malicious intent that was set at the beginning – not by her – wasn’t a reflection of how she now felt.

“I can’t play blind to this,” His voice was low, quiet, almost a whisper as he watched her body language shift and change, “You’ve been playing with me this whole time; every text message, every word, every goddamn look was a fuckin’ lie. And I let you do it. I stood around like a fool and let you play with my heart. Do I look like a mug or something? Am I really that stupid?”

Eloise’s lips quivered at his words, her head shaking as her knee bounced, her foot tapping away against the wooden flooring, “No – No Cal, you’re not. I’m the one who decided to go along and play the stup- “

“I really liked you, El,” He cut her off, “It sounds crazy for me to even say. Two dates and a drunken night of kissing, and I’m more than ready to admit to myself and you that I’m in too deep. I’m falling head over heels for a girl that I don’t even know, and this has just confirmed exactly that. I really don’t know you at all…”

Eloise didn’t even know she was crying until she could taste the salt on her lips, unable to trust her voice to hold together and she just let herself go; allowing her body to do the talking and ignoring any form of sense that ran through her mind.

“You know me better than most. Calum, I’m a closed book with a goddamn padlock and you’re the only one even remotely close to the key. I know I never told you the truth at the beginning, but please, please, please believe me when I tell you I never once lied about how I feel about you. I want out, Calum, I want out of this cursed life that I’m living. I want a chance to be normal; the only place I can even remotely feel that is when I’m with you.” Her chest never stopped shaking, fighting back the gasps and sobs as she tried to hold her shoulders still, fighting the natural urge for her body to convulse, “I want out and I need your help. I need the NYPD’s help to get out, I need to finish this.”

She finally found the strength to meet his eyes, except this time they weren’t on her. They were glued to the coffee table, no emotion other than hurt being read across his face. Eloise knew she had hurt him; knew she had betrayed him. It was exactly what she had dreaded. Although the hurt in his face pained her to see, she couldn’t help but notice how his reaction was definitely more mellow than what she was expecting. There were no cuffs so far.

“Even if you hate me, and I don’t blame you if you do, I’m asking for just one favour. Please help me finish them.”

“Them?” Calum’s voice sounded surprised at her choice of word, his eyebrows furrowing as he turned his head and met her gaze, not ready himself to see the pain and sadness spread across her own face.

All she could was nod, rubbing her face with her hands as she wiped her dried tears, praying that no more would fall.

“Things have gone too far this time… I’ve seen a lot throughout the years; bodies, bullets, blood, I’ve seen it all. But what I saw the other night, I never want to see anything like that again,” Eloise took a deep breath, her free hand brushing her hair out of her face as she looked down at her sock-clad feet, “We went to collect some money for a job a few nights ago; the job was done a few months previous but we still hadn’t been paid. So, Jay went in to pay them a visit and we waited outside. Next thing – there’s a gunshot, we run inside and there he is: sixteen-year-old kid lying on the floor with a bullet in his chest,” Her hands shook at the thought of that night, “Jay didn’t even flinch; he only cared about the money he was owed. He claimed the kid got in his face, was threatening him and he had to shut him up.”

She swore she could see Jay’s dull, unbothered expression when she closed her eyes, it being something that never failed to make her stomach churn.

“We have rules for a reason; every gang in New York follows them for reasons like this: 1. You keep to your own territory; business stays within your grounds under all circumstances, 2. All hideouts are out of bounds for challenges or raids, and finally, 3. Kids are off limits, regardless of who they may be linked to.” She recited the rules that had been drilled into her life since she could remember, them becoming strict guidelines for how business was run, or at least they used to be before certain individuals began to bend them. “It’s a shared agreement that any broken rules result in punishment, and that’s decided by whoever is the one brave enough to make you pay. Jay shot a fucking kid, so now they’re all gonna be comin’ after him. And the rest of us.”

“Go to the police then.” Calum muttered, his voice monotone as he couldn’t bring himself to hold his stare with the girl who had lied to him for so long.

As much as he knew the pain that he was in was overwhelming, he couldn’t deny that the pain she was in only made his worse. He was angry but that didn’t stop him from feeling the way he did about her; it never lessened the way his heart melted at the sight of her eyes. Maybe she was being sincere, maybe she really was telling the truth. Why else would she willing to give them up simply because she felt guilty? Wasn’t she conditioned to be tougher than that?

“I’m here, aren’t I?” She sighed, never taking her eyes off of him as she tried to meet his gaze, needing to look into his eyes, she needed to see him, “I’ve had enough of being tied to someone who thinks they can play but their own rules, someone who thinks they can control whoever and whatever they want by fear and power. I’m done with them. I’m serious, Calum, I want out.”

He seemed to sit straight for the first time that evening, Eloise noting the tension in his shoulders seeming to loosen slightly but a great deal still remained. It was a small yet hopeful indication that he was listening to her, taking in what she was trying to say. She knew it hurt him, but she prayed he would listen, even for only a few minutes before he made his decision.

“I hope you realise that you’re not going to make it out, El, if the NYPD are in on in this and they come after the Gypsy Kings, they aren’t going to listen to you when you say ‘I want out’. They’ll take you down with the rest of them and you’ll go to prison. No question about it,” Calum sighed, his logical side talking, “If you do this, then you’re signing your remaining days as a free woman away. The only place you’ll ever know will be the four walls of a cell.”

“And that’ll be worth every second when I get to watch Jay break,” Her voice sounded cold, unforgiving – almost familiar – as she spat the words out, “If I have to spend the rest of my life in a cold cell in order know that no more innocent lives will die at the hands of the Gypsy Kings then that’s a consequence I’m happy to suffer. The Kings were more than just a power-hungry society once upon a time, but now they’re unrecognisable other than for the misery that they cause.”

“So, you’re really going to do this? You’re going to betray your friends, and for what – because you feel guilty?”

“I’m doing this because it’s the right choice. I’ve hurt too many people and I’m not ready to hurt any more. You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt, and now I’m done. I can only apologise so much, Calum. But I promise you that I’ve seen it all, and I’m tired of it. I’m ready to finish this, and whether you help me or not, I’m ending this once and for all.” Eloise knew she wasn’t making much sense, her words spilling out of her at a million miles an hour as she tried to convey as much sincerity as she could muster.

“You’ll become a walking target,” Calum sighed, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched the broken girl in front of him, “The minute you do this, all eyes will be on you, especially once you’re inside. You’ll be basically signing your own death warrant.”

“And I’m okay with that. I’ve been a walking target since the day I was born, Calum, nothing has and nothing will change about that,” Eloise released a breath she didn’t even feel she was holding, the deep exhale audible in the silent room, “My dad practically painted it on himself, it came with the territory of being a Gypsy King’s daughter.”

Calum’s eyes seemed to soften at the mention of Eloise’s father, his knowledge of the man only saddening him more, but more for her than him, knowing that she was most probably still in pain after all those years.

“Ever since I was a kid, I would always hear the same familiar sentence more or less being said between my dad and his friends. They would always say there was a message behind every raid, every act of revenge, every piece of work they took on. It’s about taking something that they love, watching them crumble, and striking when they’re weak.”

The sentence was enough to send her back to the two occasions when her life changed forever. It was enough of an ignition to send her right back to the days when that something was taken from her.

“And that’s exactly what happened to me…”

Her Mum always said he was working; always said he would be late home and that he was sorry. Eloise had grown used to it, used to the excuses, and used the rare times when she would see her dad for more than a few hours at the end of the night if she were lucky.

They would always argue in the kitchen when they thought their daughter was fast asleep in bed. But she would sit on the landing and listen to how her mum screamed at how she wanted them to stay away from her house, how she wanted them to stay away from Eloise. Her mum fought so hard to keep Eloise separated from the gang that her dad ran with and she never knew why. Her mum let her hatred for the Gypsy King’s damage her relationship with her dad, allowing for cracks in the foundations to be made, and instead of fixing them, they only let them deepen.

Her sixth birthday was a distance but prominent memory in her mind. She remembered when the group of strangers walked into her house, how her dad smiled and welcomed them with open arms meanwhile her mother remained in the kitchen, keeping a distance between herself and the group that attended the party. She could still see the look of disgust on her mum’s face, the way her nose would scrunch ever so slightly, how her brows sunk, and how she just never smiled if they were around. She remembered how her mother didn’t leave the kitchen for the entire party; only coming out for when she blew her birthday candles out and when it was time for her to go to bed. God, her mum really hated them that much.

The argument her parents had that night was one that troubled her for a while, hating knowing that she was the topic of the argument. They screamed at each other about how it was unfair to make Eloise believe that they were her family when they were “nothing but selfish and violent criminals”.

God, she used to so naïve to what ‘gang’ meant, thinking they only ever existed in TV shows or stories but, boy, was she wrong. She believed at one point that they were good people; Gang Bangers, how they were people looking for a purpose, for somewhere to belong. She never knew just how cold-hearted they could be until one day they tore her life apart for the first time.

She remembered the day like it was yesterday, the day being one that she’d never forget, much like another date that no matter how many times she tried, she could never erase the memories.

Being eleven was a fun age was Eloise; she enjoyed school, had friends, she loved her life. But that before that day.

The kitchen smelt so good; her mum was baking but she couldn’t remember what exactly. She was pretty sure it was brownies or something similar. She was sat at the kitchen table; a million questions being fired at her mum about a book she had been reading for school for a project she was working on. She was hopeless when it came to science – that never changed.

There was a loud continuous bang at the door, she remembered it sounding like a hammer but heavier. It was so loud! Her mum froze briefly before ushering Eloise out of the kitchen, pushing her into a cupboard beneath the stairs, telling her to keep quiet. She couldn’t remember why it was suddenly happening. She was scared. She remembered her mother whispering, “Stay in here, keep quiet, and don’t come out until I tell you to.” Next thing she remembered was being enveloped in complete darkness, the cupboard door slamming shut before hearing faint footsteps, assuming it was her mum going towards the door.

She remembered a bang, a loud crash followed by the sound of something smashing against the floor. She thought it was vase or something, maybe a photo frame. Multiple footsteps were rattling along the floor, too many voices talking at once as she tried to focus on keeping quiet like she had been told to be.

The sound of two foreign accents were filling the muffled space; they sounded Hispanic. The sound of her mother’s voice shouted numerous times, “I don’t know where he is” “You’ve got to believe me, I don’t know where he’s hiding”. She remembered a loud scream, another crash but louder this time, before an almighty bang: a gunshot. She remembered her body tensing, her hands covering her mouth as she tried to hold in her scream at the sudden sound, her whole body shaking at the event.

It was quiet for a few more minutes before the footsteps got louder then quieter as they left, “Never should have messed with the Los Zetas” being heard as they left the house. She was left in silence, the intruders were gone, and she was left to wait for her mum to come and tell her to come out.

She couldn’t remember how long she was sat in the cupboard, feeling as though it was hours. She didn’t want to come out because she had been told to sit and wait, but she was cold and uncomfortable in the cupboard, and there hadn’t been any noise since the bang so she decided to ignore her mother’s words and she left the cupboard.

There was dirt on the floor, a trail of it leading from the front door into the kitchen. She called out for her mum, waiting to hear a response as she followed the dirt trail, almost curious to see where they had been and what they had wanted, her hands were visibly shaking.

The sight of what she saw in the kitchen was something no eleven-year-old should ever have to see. She remembered the sight of the cold body that lay on the kitchen floor; a sight that would never leave her. She remembered the white dressing gown her mother wore was thrown open, and the collar of her top was creased as if she had been grabbed with a harsh grip, but her eyes were drawn the crimson colour that dripped out of the clean bullet hole that was carved into the side of her mother’s head. It stained the dressing gown; her mother loved that dressing gown.

She didn’t cry at first, she wasn’t sure, but she remembered how she just stood there and stared for a few seconds. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Did she cry? Scream? Run?

The next thing she recalled was that she was calling 911, having grabbed the landline from the hallway. She remembered talking to a man and telling a complete stranger how her mum was dead in her kitchen and she had hidden while it happened.

“The next thing I knew, my dad was home, I was taken to the hospital and checked out to make sure that I was okay,” Eloise spoke, her voice hoarse as she looked ahead at the blank TV screen, “How was I supposed to okay after finding my mum like that? How’s anyone supposed to be okay after something like that?”

Eloise thought she was done with crying, or at least that’s what she had hoped, until she felt the familiar touch of Calum’s hand against her cheek, his thumb wiping a tear away yet again that she hadn’t realised she had shed until he cleared it. She felt as though she had cried all the tears she could when it came to the day her mother died, but it turned out there would never be a number on the amount of times you would grieve for your parents.

Calum couldn’t hide the hurt in his face, the feeling only worsening from before because it was Eloise who was hurting. Maybe he needed to push himself aside and realise that his feelings of how much he cared for the brunette in his home were stronger than the ones of anger and betrayal he felt at the same time, maybe he needed to push them aside and realise that she was trying to change.

He tried to find some words he could say to her, some form of appreciation for her talking to him about such a traumatic experience, but how did he do that? How did he thank her for something like that? Maybe silence was a better option in that case.

Calum noted how she didn’t break eye contact with the TV screen, using it as a focal point as she spoke, opening up about a time that troubled her; anyone could see that. It seemed to be something she needed, something that she didn’t even know she needed. And Calum was more than willing to be the small audience she spoke to in order to get it out in the open and out of her head if necessary.

Eloise took a deep breath; one that allowed her to fill the full expanse of her stomach before she released it, swallowing in the hope of adding some form of moisture to her dry throat as she fought to continue. Once she had started, she needed to finish, she needed to say it all.

“I was robbed again by a New York gang when I was fifteen,” She began, her lips rolling together briefly, “Just when I thought I was coming to terms with the first time something was taken from me, it happened again… It was on her birthday…”

Natalia would have been 38. Eloise counted the age every year, wrote out the date every year on whatever calendar she had been given for Christmas the year before.

She had decided to make a stupid cake, having decided that they would actually celebrate her mother’s birthday that year instead of hiding away and ignoring the day that was previously celebrated with colour and life. Then she burned the cake and ended up setting off the smoke alarms which resulted in her and her dad laughing at their attempts to get the loud machine to stop beeping. It was the last time she had heard him laugh, as in genuinely.

Her dad gave her some money, cleaning up the dirty baking trays and disposing of the burnt cake, and told her to go to the local corner shop that was a few streets over and buy a tray of those cheap chocolate muffins that they sold. They were a favourite within the household; her mum usually bought them as treats for special occasions.

She remembered asking if he wanted anything else while she was out, and he responded, “I just wanna see you smile again.” She could smell the whiskey on his breath, remembering how he didn’t think she had saw him pour some into his morning coffee.

He turned to drink often than not once her mum had gone. He seemed to find a lot comfort in it, using it as a mask to hide the pain he felt when all it did was make it worse for him.

The last thing he said to her when she was leaving the house that day never left her, the smile on his face genuine and sympathetic – but she didn’t see that – as he looked at fifteen-year-old Eloise and said, “Y’know I love you right, Eloise. More than you’ll ever know.”

She brushed it off at the time, rolling her eyes as she laughed at him and returned, “Uh huh dad, ‘nd I love you too.”

When she closed that door, she didn’t know that was going to be the last time she saw him with a smile on his face. She didn’t know that was going to be the last time she saw him at all.

She remembered when she came home and saw that the curtains were drawn; they weren’t before. She figured her dad had just passed out, it not being a sight that surprised her since her mum.

She went straight into the kitchen, not even making note of the living door being closed, being completely blind to it as she discarded of the bag on the table as emptied the contents. She had bought a bag of salted peanuts, remembering how much her dad used to love them. She hid them in the treat cupboard – a tradition they kept around from her mum – for him to go and find when he’d be feeling peckish. She remembered shouting through the house that she had bought double chocolate muffins instead because they sounded better. God, and they were! They were rare purchases but so worth it!

She remembered how she was laughing as she walked through the house, completely unaware to what had happened. She suddenly noticed the silence; how eerie the house suddenly felt around her. She couldn’t hear her dad at all, but she could faintly hear voices coming from the living room. They sounded as if they were yelling, excitement building as the muffled words they spoke got faster and more rushed as each second passed.

Opening the door felt like it took forever, spotting the stereo that sat opposite the door was turned on, the voices coming from the speakers. She assumed it was horse racing, a pointless sport that her dad enjoyed every so often. They had a tradition where every race, Eloise would pick the horse her dad would bet on, claiming that she was lucky and if she picked then he would win. Nine times out of ten it never resulted in a win, but that never stopped her dad from telling Eloise that he won big because of his lucky charm.

It was memories like that that made the pain of what she saw that day all the more intense. She spotted the limp body on the couch, his head lopping to the side as he sat slouched against the arm of the fabricated piece of furniture. She couldn’t remember how she felt, she thought it was shock and then sad, but it was blur. She couldn’t remember if it felt worse than when she found her mum or if it felt the same.

What she did remember was the gun attached to his hand, finger resting limply over the trigger. She remembered the two framed photographs that stood on the coffee table as if they had watched the whole thing take place. She could remember her hands were physically shaking as she reached out to touch him, pushing on his arm as if he would wake up and say it was all a joke. She remembered the panic beginning to sink in as she pieced together what happened, how she didn’t have to see the bullet wound to know what he did.

The photographs stood out to her, playing as a reminder to what they had seen; to what had happened. One was of a young couple, her mind replaying her the story her mother had told her about the photograph and when it was taken. It was of a date her dad had taken her mum out on for the 4th of July, they ended up finding a photobooth to commemorate the date. 

She remembered the other photograph painfully, it being a reminder of a time she preferred not to think about. The peach coloured blouse her mother wore in the photograph stood out, the top holding so many memories that she didn’t realise she had at such a young age. She remembered the golden locket that hung from her mother’s neck, the photograph inside being something she treasured with her life. She could see the small infant in her mother’s arms within the photograph, heart aching at the memory of being so young that she couldn’t remember that photo being taken. 

It was a reminder to Eloise that she had already lost one parent, and now she had lost the only one she had left.

Brown eyes met brown as Eloise broke her stare from the TV, her body was tired, and her emotions were a mess. She didn’t understand how she could carry on talking but she did, unsure of what Calum would say or do next. She was sure he was still angry; she didn’t expect a sob story to change that.

“The gangs of New York City have already taken everything from me, so, I think it’s about time that I take something from them.” Her voice surprised her as she spoke, her tone strong and words carrying intent as she watched the police officer next to her match her glossy eyes with his own shining ones.

He looked ready to cry; close to breaking into tears at the telling of Eloise’s hardships. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want him to cry for her. She wanted him to help her, to help her break those who broke her.

“Like I said, Calum, I’m taking Jay down whether you help me or not, all that I’m askin’ you is that you do what you think is right,” She sighed as she searched for a silent answer, wanting to know sooner rather than later if she was on her own or not. 

She had been on her own for a long time, knowing how to handle it; how to handle people but this was different. She didn’t know how to handle Jay, having always just remained by the side-lines during his outbursts of violence, playing ignorant to the destruction he caused because she didn’t know how else to handle it.

Calum sat in silence, watching how Eloise searched for an answer within him. She looked desperate, as if she were ready to scream. Maybe she was serious – of course she was. She had openly just told the story of how she found her both her parents dead in her family home on two separate occasions. Why else would she share something like that – a horrifying, gut-wrenching memory that haunted her to a man she knew could destroy her life if he really wanted to?

Because deep down, she knew that he wouldn’t. That he couldn’t.

Calum couldn’t ignore the logical half of his brain that was working; telling him that this would be a ground-breaking arrest within the NYPD. It was what they wanted, it was what Lieutenant White wanted – the Gypsy Kings to be broken and ruined. He could do that; he had that opportunity right in the palm of his hands. But why did that feel so wrong? Why did doing the right thing – abiding by the law – feel like the wrong thing for Calum to do? Why did he feel like fulfilling his Lieutenant’s wishes would only lead him to a dead end; where he would be met with the sad face of the girl who he thinks about all the time, the broken heart of someone who confided in him? Because he knew that’s exactly what would happen.

He had to help. He knew he did.

“I’ve been wearing blinkers for so long, ignoring what goes on in the city. I always followed orders and instructions because I had no control, because I just wanted to feel a part of something like my dad did, and I regret every second of it; every bullet, every fight, every stupid deal,” Her sigh was full of disappointment for herself, her hand rubbing her face as she let out a soft grumble of incoherent words as she rested it on her forehead, “I know what this means for the city, what it means for the Gypsy Kings, and what it means for me. But I don’t care anymore, Cal, because all I want to do is do something right for once.”

Her brown eyes still desperately searched for an answer, as if expecting him to be able to make a choice then and there over what he was going to do. She would be ready to leave if he asked to her, but something inside her begged for that not to be case. As much as she wanted his help; she knew she wanted him more. She still cared about him, more than she even knew. And he was the same, even though the smell of betrayal was still fresh in the room, it was overpowered by the way his heart soared for the broken, teary-eyed brunette in front of him.

The human side he normally ignored was working overdrive – something he wasn’t sure if he were grateful for, or if he hated the fact that she caused it – as he sat there and contemplated what could happen. If he helped her, then he would lose her. And if he didn’t help her, then he would also lose her. It was a no-win situation for Calum, but something still urged him, as if someone were pulling the strings and had him under a spell to convince him to do something he could only imagine doing. And yet he found himself falling victim to the puppet-master.

“I’ll help you,”

His words took a moment to register in Eloise’s mind, her eyes suddenly widening as her eyebrows raised and face froze as she looked at the man in question, “You will?” She couldn’t quite believe he was going to do it.

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” Calum’s soft brown curls shook a little as he nodded, Eloise having to fight the urge to run her hand through them like she had done before, “I’ll do it for you, El. Now, how do you want to handle this?”

It was as if something changed in that moment between them, it was if something were lowering a bridge and the view in front of Calum was clearer; he could see exactly what was in front of him. She was trusting him, and she didn’t know if she was stupid or out of her mind for doing that. But something spoke to her, telling her that it was okay, that he wouldn’t be the one to hurt her this time.

He was giving her the power over the situation, something she hadn’t truly been given before. Yes, Han had said she was in control over the scheme with Calum but that didn’t ring true. At the end of the day, someone else was still pulling Eloise’s strings all for their own gain. But this time, she in the drivers’ seat; controlling exactly what happened and when.

Eloise racked her brain for a plan, some way to lead the Gypsy Kings into false security before she could have the opportunity break them when they were weak – when they least expected it. She needed the opportunity to fall into her hands, it wasn’t like she could hija-

“Does the name ‘The Corporation’ mean anything to you?” Eloise leaned forward suddenly in her seat, blueprints of a plan suddenly beginning to map themselves out in her mind. The shipment. She could see on Calum’s face that he knew who she was talking about, the name being one that everyone in world knew – it didn’t matter if you were a cop, gangster, or even an innocent bystander – a name that carried such dark intentions; a Cuban Cartel gang – one of the most notorious gangs in Cuba. They never showed their faces very often but that was until a deal was to be made. “They started bringing storage crates into the city, using abandoned boat yards to conduct deals with American gangs. The crates are full of almost everything that they shouldn’t be; narcotics, black market weapons, and god knows what else. They’d set up a buy with an arranged gang and bring the shipment over to conduct the deal, a price would already be set before the deal was even agreed.”

“How much typically for a crate?” His voice sounded stronger than before, the irritation now gone, with curiosity and intent now being present.

“It depends on what they’re giving you. I’m pretty sure it varies from $5k to $50k. There was a shipment that was rumoured to be coming into New York a few weeks back, it was the Ryders’ deal that they conducted with Corp. I don’t know that much about it but I know it fell through,” Eloise absentmindedly fiddled with the loose thread on Calum’s couch she had spotted before, twirling it in between her fingers, being careful not to pull it out, “But what I do know is that when the deal fell through, the cops had caught them when they were on their way there, arrested a group of their boys there and then. Corporation heard about it, cleared out, and fled the scene before the police had a chance to get them- “

“Yeah I know exactly what you’re talkin’ about,” Calum interrupted her with a sigh, rubbing his eye with the corner of his palm, letting out a short huff, “I was on the squad that caught them, bastards thought they were sly ‘nd tried to outrun us but we caught up to them.”

It didn’t surprise Eloise at the hint of pride in his voice when he spoke about the cockiness of the rival gang. She knew that the cops had been chasing them for a while, understanding the sense of relief they must have felt when they finally caught them. She couldn’t deny the warmth that spread within her, as if his pride made her proud. She was proud of him?

“We’ve heard word that The Corporation are coming back to New York, desperate to sell the crate from the busted deal. They had to find new buyers since the Ryders are were out of action, it was up for grabs. And once Jay heard word, he submitted himself and the rest of the gang to become the new buyers,” Eloise couldn’t help the furrow in her brow, sighing as she thought about where she sat, the effects of her actions taking their toll as she thought about Scott. How would she ever be able to look him in the eye again? What would happen to him? Eloise knew she had to follow through, she knew that too much damage had been done to go back now. “They want $35k for the lot, apparently Jay had overheard that the contents of the crate were worth a profit of five times the buying price. Anyone with a half a brain would see that was flawed – why would they sell product for such a lesser price if it could make them a profit of over $175,000?”

She swore she could feel her heart rattling in her chest, her breath shaking as she felt an overwhelming wave of panic set upon her much like it had that day when she walked into the living room of her family home. What was she doing? Am I doing the right thing? She kept asking herself that same question.

“Jay plans to ransack the whole shipment, he wants to steal it from right under their noses. He’s treating it as some sort of power-move, he thinks if he can take such a large amount from a society that’s ten times as powerful as he is, then use it to control the city. He wants to be feared by everyone and he thinks this is how he can achieve that,” She was angry, her gut wrenching in disappointment at the people she once called her friends, her family. How could she have been so blind to see what was right in front of her the entire time? “It’s happening in the abandoned Navy Yard just west of Williamsburg in just less than three weeks. They weren’t stupid enough to think the cops wouldn’t end up hearing about how the Corp were coming back, it definitely not being long before they heard that we were the ones who were the next group of morons to fall victim to a poorly scheduled buy, so a plan was made to counteract.”

She pursed her lips to the side, her teeth working against the inside of her cheek as she looked up at Calum’s precious face. He didn’t look hurt anymore, she noted. He looked… She wasn’t sure. He was unreadable, but she could feel that he wasn’t mad anymore. His eyelashes flushed against his cheeks with every blink, his chest rising and falling with every gentle breath he took. He looked calm, ready to listen.

“And that’s what brought me here. It’s what brought me to the café that morning, how I knew you would be there, what brought me to your house that night… It’s what brought me into your arms, but it didn’t work like it supposed to. I was supposed to be able to walk away, and now I can’t. I can’t tear myself away from you and for so long, I couldn’t understand what it was about you that made me feel like I couldn’t quit,” Eloise couldn’t stop her face from scrunching, her teeth nipping her tongue accidently as she fought over her words, “And I’ve never felt like this. I’ve always been afraid of getting hurt, and to stop that from happening I’ve blocked people out but there’s been something about you that I can’t push away, and that scares me.”

The tears were flowing again before she had a chance to stop them, her voice cracking and shaking as much as her heart was pounding, her vision blurring as she tried to get her words out. Eloise noticed how Calum’s hands twitched, as if they were fighting the urge to reach up and wipe her tears away. She wanted to let him, but he wasn’t letting himself.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore… I had a plan and honestly, I was prepared to go ahead with it and do what they wanted me to, but then you kept being so kind, so genuine, so… you. And it changed everything. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I couldn’t stop wanting to see you again and I craved the way my chest tightened when I spent time with you. You treated me so good when you hardly knew me, and I repaid you by taking your heart on a joyride and before I knew- “ Her voice broke as a sob threatened to break through, her nails creating crescent shaped indents in her palms as she squeezed her fists together.

“El- “

“Before I knew it, I realised the only heart that I was taking on a joyride was my own,” Eloise finally let the desperate sob out, the sound hurting her chest as she could barely make out the sight in front of her due to the clouded tears, the sting being ignored over the pain in her torso. She was saying so much that she couldn’t remember what she had and hadn’t already said. All she knew was that she wanted to get everything out, she was this deep already so why not just do more damage. “And what scares me the most is that I don’t know if I hate myself for it or not, I can’t decide if I hate the way this feels; to be so enticed by someone that all I want to do is be with them. And I’m sorry, Calum, I’m so sorry for everything. I played a game that I didn’t know the rules for and now I’ve screwed myself over and I’ve hurt you…”

Eloise let her eyes close, a further flood of tears cascading down her flushed cheeks as she fought to keep the sobs at bay. She didn’t want sympathy from him, she wasn’t sure if what she wanted was forgiveness. Eloise didn’t know what she wanted. All she knew, was that the look Calum gave her when she first admitted to the ploy was a look she never wanted to see again. The hurt in his eyes was an unbearable pain she couldn’t face.

The room was eerie, the silence almost deafening as it swallowed the tension between the two in the large room. She craved for him to speak, for him to say something. She frankly didn’t care what or how he said it, she just needed him to say something.

“You were only doing what you thought to be right,” A voice cut through the silence, “And as much as it hurts to know that none of this was what you initially wanted, there’s something undeniably warming in knowing that now it is and that you feel it too…” He had shifted his weight, knee knocking against hers on the edge of the couch as he sat in front of her, centimetres between them. The feeling of her soft damp skin beneath his hand as he cupped her cheek ignited a fire within him that he thought would have burnt out, the sight of her glossy dark eyes laced with nothing but regret and apologies causing a roll of his lips as he let out a shallow breath. “You’re not the only one who’s scared, y’know, El, I’m terrified. No one is supposed to feel like their heart is running a marathon inside their chest at the sight of someone. I’m not supposed to feel as though my home is empty unless you’re here, but I can’t help but feel as though that I am empty unless you’re with me.”

“Why’re you so good with words?” She couldn’t stop the pathetic excuse of a laugh she released, sighing as she leaned into his touch, it being something she never wanted to leave, “You talk to me as if I’m a piece of glass, scared that if you talk with anything other than softness in your voice then I’ll shatter in place. I’m so used to angry words, aggressive voices, and fearful eyes that an act of kindness is something I’ve grown to forget. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have a kind heart.”

“Then let me be your reminder, Eloise.” His voice was a whisper, small and soft, it barely being heard over the static white noise as he closed the distance between them. His hand on her cheek gently coaxed her face to his as their lips connected in a sweet embrace.

It was different than the other kisses they had shared. She briefly remembered feeling the same way about their last kiss but this one was nothing like the last. It wasn’t built from a sexual tension that sat between them the entire night. This came from an admission; a moment of allowing their true feelings to breathe in each other’s company.

Eloise’s breath caught in her throat as her hand found the side of his neck, her sweaty palm resting against the warm skin as she let herself get lost in the tangle of soft lips and slow movements. It was everything she wanted, and still it didn’t feel like it lasted for long enough.

“Nothing has changed,” He whispered as their lips parted briefly, his forehead resting against hers, lips brushing against each other’s with every word he spoke, his eyes merely closed while he trusted his voice to speak the thousand thoughts running riot in his head, “It hurts that your intentions were never for it to get to this, not really, and I don’t know why I fell so quickly for you, it’s like you had a hold on me and I couldn’t escape it. Eloise, I still want to know you if you’ll let me, and I hope you want to know me too, because over the past few days, I feel like I’ve slowly seen a bit more of who you really are every time you smile, every time you laugh, every time you say my name…”

Brown met brown as they allowed for their eyes to open and meet in a soft gaze, both shining in the dim glow of the overhead light. Eloise felt as though she was drowning, her chest tight as she felt the walls around her close in. But she wasn’t scared, she embraced the intense shift and took a long hard breath, her eyes staring into his own, finding the familiar specs of gold she had grown to find comfort in.

She had to ask a question that burned in the back of her mind, having to fight against the rush of pure ecstasy she was feeling as she sat with only millimetres of distance between her and the familiar man who she was dying to kiss again.

“But what if this is just setting ourselves up for heartbreak?” The question left her lips with a dry hoarse of her throat, knowing it’s one she had asked herself a million times in the matter of days from where she confessed to Paige how she felt to where she sat now, “What if you let yourself get so lost and wrapped up in a world that’s out of your depth that you’re left at the edge, having to stand and watch as it crumbles around you? You’re only letting yourself become a victim of a pain that’ll never truly heal…” She swallowed a growing lump as she spoke, his spare hand holding hers, the pad of his thumb gently gliding across the back of her smooth skin, the metal of their rings scratching delicately as they collided, “Are you really willing to risk all that pain for a stranger?”

Calum pushed his tongue against his bottom teeth, a heavy sigh being exhaled through his nose as his eyes found their hands that sat connected between the two of them. How did he find himself here? How did he get himself so wrapped up in a girl who a month ago he didn’t even know existed? How did he get himself so helplessly head over heels for a girl who was everything he didn’t know he needed?

Of course, he knew the risk that came with the two of them agreeing to embrace what they felt. He knew the many directions their lives could take; not many of them having good outcomes. But did that stop him from doubting the adrenaline he knew he wouldn’t feel anywhere else? No. It only fuelled his desire for her further, the flame in his stomach erupting into a fully-fledged bonfire as he looked at the brunette who sat on his couch. God, he was crazy, but he was crazy for her.

And she was the same.

He felt his eyelashes brush against his cheeks as he found her eyes once again, the different shades of the same dark colour swirling around in a perfect concoction; a whirlpool he could sit and watch for hours. The ends of his plump lips turned up ever so slightly as he leaned in yet again, their lips slanting together like two puzzle pieces that wouldn’t fit with anything else other than one another. Calum couldn’t ignore the buzz he felt when he kissed her, as if it were all he wanted to do, all he was meant to do. Both his hands finding her face as he cupped the delicate skin, keeping her close as he let their tongues dance in a sinful act.

He hesitated before placing a final soft kiss on her lips before he parted from her, foreheads instinctively being pressed together as he let out a confident breath, a single chaste kiss being snuck between them as their lips separated, eliciting a small giggle from Eloise.

In that moment Calum knew that he was sure of his decision. He had never been surer of something before, his heart soaring as he thought of the connection they shared; how painfully right it felt. His nose brushed against hers, a simple yet effective gesture which sent a thousand butterflies to her stomach as she yearned to feel his lips against hers once more, to feel how perfect they fitted against her pink ones.

“I’m willing if you are,” He let the words fill the peaceful silence, his voice as smooth as velvet as it filled her ears, her body feeling as though it was floating as he held her. The words he spoke filled a hole in Eloise that she hadn’t even felt was void. She felt as if she was mending, as if Calum were fixing her.

Eloise could feel two weights fall on her shoulders, wishing they were Calum’s hands, but she knew they were anything but. She heard the arguments of the devil and angel who had perched themselves on her shoulder yet again, as if they were trying to convince her and dismiss her of the decision, trying to regain the control she seemed to have grasped for a moment. It was an obstacle she was yet to overcome: her mind. But she knew she had finally found a place to start. It would be a process; a hard one. But she would get there in the end, and with Calum by her side, she could only imagine how great it would be to be finally free, even if she weren’t physically.

The consequences of her actions played on her mind, the thought of prison or death being the two prime outcomes of this decision she had to make. She knew her time was limited, but she willing to accept that fact for the new cause she had found. It was her heart going to war with her head, her head screaming at her to run and return to the shadows, meanwhile her heart encouraged her to embrace the warmth that sparked from this connection she felt, to embrace the adrenaline that rushed through her at the sight of Calum’s smile, to embrace the satisfaction of knowing she would be doing the right thing in ending the Gypsy Kings’ story before it could even fully begin.

Eloise knew the choice she had to make. She knew the right one was there as it stared right back at her, brown eyes searching hers as a comforting smile made her feel safe. She knew what she had to do.

Her decision was confirmed by the smile that spread along her lips; the genuine smile, as she rested a small hand against Calum’s golden skin, the light prickle of stubble tickling her palm, her thumb sliding across his bottom lip as if it were silk, something she never thought she would be lucky enough to touch once again. It felt as though she could breathe for the first time that evening, the sight of Calum only encouraging her to continue.

“Okay then,” She let the words slip past her lips, her smile never faltering as she leaned in and connected them in an affirming kiss, one that sealed and confirmed everything the two of them had shared of their feelings.

Eloise could feel his tongue dancing along hers, his hands grasping her as much as he could as if he were trying to never let go. The buzz hummed throughout her entire body, her eyes closing as they shared the ardent kiss. Stars were dancing wildly behind her eyes, in her stomach, and throughout her entire body as she lived in that moment.

She couldn’t play blind any longer to how she felt, knowing that her feelings were out in the open and they were returned. For the first time in a long time, Eloise felt as though she had finally regained something, as though she had gained back control. She had already lost so much but now she had gained something; she had gained someone. And she couldn’t ignore the excitement at the thought of him, the safety he gave her, or the pure rush of gratitude she felt towards the universe for making them both be in the same club on the night of her birthday.

It felt as though everything was going to be okay, that it would turn out alright, just like she had told Paige a few days ago. Of course, it was too soon to say, and no one could predict what was around the corner, but in that very moment there was nothing to think about other than how perfect they felt in one another’s arms. It was utterly perfect. 

Utterly and completely.

---

Tag List: @steviemae​​ @elsysoza​​ @treatallwithkindness​ @oopsiedoopsie23​

[for-ests]

Lost In Your Light: Peter Parker x Reader (Part 2)

Part 1

Word count: 1, 906

CHAPTER 2: FRAGILE

The morning sunshine peaked through the window, warm on her face, yet harsh on her eyes.

Y/N stretched her arms out wide and yawned. It felt good to sleep in, especially after the mishap last night. Thank God it was Saturday.

After minutes of contemplating if she should get out of bed, the girl finally pushed the covers off her body. She stood up and made her way downstairs, ears perking up as she heard the television already turned on.

"Dad?" She called, trotting down the last few steps and entering the foyer. "Why aren't you asleep?" Her father, Doctor L/N, was a busy and intelligent man. He usually worked in the emergency room at Queens Medical Center. He was one of the best surgeons in the state, which called for great responsibility, and a great absence from his daughter's life.

That's why she was surprised to see him awake so early.

Her father was sitting at the breakfast counter, glasses on and newspaper in hand. He had a full cup of coffee placed a few inches away, and Y/N knew that it had to be his third or fourth round.

He looked up and smiled. "Good morning sweetheart." His voice rang in that familiar New York accent that so many people tried to mimic. It made her smile. He had grown up here his whole life, unlike her. She didn't sound like a New Yorker, but she had inherited his features.

Like his warm hazel eyes. Even after years of aging, they were as distinct as ever. He used to have silky brown hair, but now his full head of hair was almost grey--making him look wise. People close to him would know it was true. He was full of life and joy, despite the fact that the love of his life had died five years ago.

Y/N loved her father dearly. He was her only close family left, since she was the only child. They moved to Queens when she was 13, right after her mother had died. It was a huge and painful adjustment, traveling from a small mid western town to one of the largest cities in America. Her mother was her life, the one who took care of her while her father was away at work. Y/N missed her every single day.

Following the traumatizing events, she was more than grateful to have her father by her side through it all. He was a good man, and he loved her mother. Even though he was gone most days, he had done his best. He was there for her when she needed him.

Now that she was eighteen, Y/N understood the importance of his job and why he was called to do it. He saved lives on the daily, basically resurrecting people who should have died from their traumatic injuries. Living in the city was incredibly dangerous, especially since violent crime had increased with foreign species of alien life and their advanced weaponry. 

But deep down inside, Y/N knew her father’s dedication stemmed from the immense amount of guilt and shame he felt. He wasn't able to save his wife from stage four brain cancer. Now, Thomas L/N  was bound to spend the rest of his life trying to make up for his failure.

Every time she looked at him, she could see the tiredness that lingered in his expression. He would never remarry. He would never love again. And it broke her heart.

So every moment was a blessing. Time was scarce in their household.

"Couldn't sleep." He sighed loudly, setting the paper aside. "I don't have any surgeries scheduled for the rest of the day. It doesn't matter."

Y/N raised her eyebrow. "What time is it at?"

"2am." He groaned.

"That still counts as tonight dad, you know that." She chuckled, opening the fridge to take out a carton of eggs. "You want any?"

"If you're making scrambled, yes."

Y/N rolled her eyes. She preferred it over easy, but she would do anything for her father. Even if that meant sacrificing yolk on toast. "Coming right up!" She cheered over-dramatically, salvaging for a skillet and slotted turner.

She cracked open 5 eggs and added some peppers and onions for her father's preference.

As she waited for the stove to heat up, she grabbed the remote and turned on the tabletop television.

Y/N flipped leisurely through the channels, stopping on the local news for his pleasure. She would normally read the daily news on her phone, but any moment they could share together was precious. 

Her father lifted his head as he listened in on the weather for today. It was supposed to be cloudy with a 70% chance of snow.

Y/N frowned, she had wanted to spend some time outside on her day off, but Mother Nature had different plans.

She poured the battered eggs into the skillet, smiling as they sizzled. Their seasoned smell lofted through the apartment, adding to the tranquility that rested between the two.

"Smells good honey." Her father rubbed his belly jokingly. "Haven't had a home cooked breakfast in awhile."

"It's because you're never home." Y/N stuck her tongue out. “I’ll make some bacon too.” 

Her father was about to say something, but was interrupted by the TV. Both their attentions switched to the breaking news segment.

"SPIDER-MAN ASSISTING COPS IN THE CAPTURE OF DOUBLE MURDERER AND BANK ROBBER CHARLES ANDERSON"

The news report continued to explain the situation. The background displaying a familiar-looking building that Y/N recognized to be a few blocks down.

Chills ran down her spine as she realized how close the murder was to where she ‘worked’. What if she had gotten caught in something like that?

She glanced to her father, sighing in relief. He didn't seem to notice her surprise. Which was good because she didn't want him to ask any questions.

"Charles Anderson may have links to the local gang Thorns, but authorities still refuse to comment. All we know is that he is in custody, after being found hanging from a spider web."

Y/N smiled. That Spider-Man was a mystery. She felt safe knowing someone was watching over their city, catching criminals left and right. Especially the violent ones that lingered in the shadows. 

"What do you think about the spider boy?" Her father chuckled after setting his cup of coffee down.

"I like him." Y/N continued to dice the vegetables.

Her father kept listening in on the broadcast. "This just in, Spider-Man confirmed-"

"It's been almost two years since he showed up." He reminded her, his tone somewhat pessimistic. 

"Really?" That comment took her aback. She had forgotten how long it had been. She remembered first hearing about him her sophomore year, sneaking into the bathroom with her friends to watch YouTube videos. That seemed like so long ago, even though it had only been a few years. Y/N had grown so much since then, she was approaching the end of her senior year, almost eighteen years old. And the concept of supernatural beings had become the norm.

As she poured the rest of the vegetables into the skillet, she wondered just how many people like her there were.

Y/N knew she would be safer to keep her abilities a secret. She wasn't strong like Captain America, smart like Iron Man, or even agile like Spider-Man.

She was almost normal.

But even if she wasn't completely normal, knowing there was someone who wanted to keep others safe made her heart feel warm. It was encouraging to see there were others who wanted to help make their crime filled city a better place.

"Hello?" Her dad asked loudly, snapping Y/N back to reality.

"Huh?" She blinked in surprise, failing to notice how deep in thought she was. "Did you say something?"

"I was wondering if you think his intentions are good."

"Truly? I do." She scraped the eggs evenly onto two plates. She didn't want to say too much. Her father didn't need to know about her secret crush on Spider-Man.

"You think so?" Her father got up from his chair and walked over to the window that overlooked the city. "I get worried when these incredibly strong humans are so close to home. That man could kill someone without even trying."

"You do have a point." Y/N laughed, shaking her head at how serious he had gotten. He was often overthinking things. She wondered what he would do if he found out about her powers.

"Do you like him? Tossing aside your philosophy. What do you actually think?"

Her father was silent for a moment, his hands tucked in his trousers. "He seems alright to me. He's protecting the city I love, why wouldn't I like him?"

"That's why I like him. He's doing what the police can't do."

"I didn't think of it that way."

"Now come eat." She smiled, setting two glasses of milk on the table. "You have a long night ahead of you, you need as much protein as you can." 

✭✦✭✦✭

Y/N held the dead succulent in her hand, narrowing her eyes as she tried to generate the power she had felt last night.

Nothing.

"What the hell!" She groaned in annoyance, tossing it into the garbage before she could try again.

The girl didn't understand why she could only heal living things. It frustrated her beyond belief. Her abilities were useless if she couldn't save someone on the verge of death. What if she needed too? She wouldn't be able to live with herself if someone she loved died again.

Y/N pushed herself off the floor and rolled to the other side of her room. The chair squeaked loudly underneath her as she reached for her other potted plant.

It was a pink rose bush that her father had gotten for her. It was beautiful, but had started to wither from lack of water. Theoretically, this should be no problem for Y/N. 

She focused, raising her hand just a few inches over the buds. She searched deep within and called. The warm feeling surged through her body and with the movements of her hand, she bent the roses at her will.

The girl practically screamed with glee, opening and closing her hand, watching as the buds did the same.

It was beautiful.

Almost instinctively, she decided to take it a step further, her heart pounding in her chest and she raised her hand up, demanding the rose bush to grow from within.

The stems gradually thickened, the branches growing longer. She watched in astonishment, but her patience thinned.

She forced the bush to grow faster, but as soon as she tried, a sharp pain seared through her abdomen.

Y/N winced, doubling over with a cry.

Her hands fell away from the plant, and the mendification process stopped. She was panting by then, holding the place where she felt the pain. It ceased as soon as she stopped, but it still frightened her. She'd never felt any pain because of her powers before. Was it possible she couldn't speed up time, only heal to its original state?

She gritted her teeth, hesitant to try again. It would have to wait for another time.

For now at least. But tonight, she had some business to take care of.

✭✦✭✦✭

Tag list! comment if you want to be added! part 3 will be coming in the next few days

@spn-assemble-seven​ @eridanuswave​ @fallisflame​ @used-avocado​ @pluckypete​ @vanillanestor​

[ladyreapermc]

Catching Feelings 2/? (Keanu x OFC)

Summary: AU in which Keanu is down on his luck after he comes to Hollywood trying to be an actor. To earn some money, he joins this app for escorts and meets Steph, a rising star who hires him to try to forget her ex. Neither of them are expecting to fall in love and all the problems it brings.

Previous chapters: 1

Author’s notes: Thanks everyone for the comments on the first part. I’m glad you liked. Here’s the second chapter.

Wordcount: 4115

Warnings: prostitution and smut (D/S undertones).

“How was it?” Were the first words Keanu heard when he stepped into the apartment he shared with his friend Scott.

Well calling that place an apartment was actually being charitable since it was basically a tiny little studio in a building that was falling apart in one of the seediest areas of Los Angeles. But it was a roof over his head and all Keanu could afford so there was no point in complaining.

“It was…” he trailed off, setting his helmet and jacket by the door and dropping on the ratty couch beside Scott. It was really all he could say about what happened the night before.

When Keanu sighed up for Mars and Venus, he wasn’t expecting it to be quite like this. Selling his body – and no matter how many times Scott told him that he didn’t really have to have sex with his clients, that was how Keanu saw it – just made him feel dirty, but he was completely broke and there weren’t too many places willing to hire a high school dropout whose only real skills were riding motorcycles, playing bass and acting.

Scratch that. Apparently, he couldn’t even act, because that had been the reason why he came to Los Angeles in the first place. He had done fairly well back in Toronto, appearing in a couple of TV specials and movies. It wasn’t much, but it got him an offer to be in a Disney movie, which to a 21-year-old guy with big dreams had sounded like an amazing offer.

So, Keanu cleared his savings, packed his stuff and moved to Los Angeles expecting to take on Hollywood. When he arrived, he found out the movie deal fell through and he was left with nothing. Fast forward six years and Keanu was still down on his luck. He gave up on acting altogether and just tried to get by, taking any jobs he managed to find. That was how Keanu met Robert and Brett and Dogstar happened.

It was currently one of the high points of his life. They were still on that phase of begging bars and clubs to let them play and barely making anything out of it, but they were good. Maybe they could make it. Keanu just had to hang on for a while longer.

Hence the whole Mars and Venus thing. Scott told him how much he would make in a date and Keanu was shocked. Sure, a subscription was expensive, but if he really could make at least 2k a date, Keanu should able to pay his bills, move into a better apartment, maybe even get a proper place for the band to rehearse and work on their music, maybe even record a demo…

Scott said it was pretty easy. Most of his clients were middle-aged women that just wanted something pretty on her arm to show off to her friends. Or a companion for the night. It was completely up to Keanu if it would turn into sex or not. So, Keanu signed up even if it still made him feel cheap. Not long after that, he got an invitation.

He had been so nervous when he got to her house. The last thing Keanu expected was to meet actress Stephanie Walker, who looked as awkward as he was. He certainly didn’t expect the night to go quite like that. It was fun and light and wonderful, and the sex had been mind-blowing.

In the morning, however, Keanu woke up to the sound of his phone. It was confirmation of payment. His bank account, which only had 2 dollars for the last two weeks had a few more zeros in it.

The sight of it made him Keanu feel ashamed because he really enjoyed Steph’s company. He liked her. It felt almost like a first date, but reality finally sunk in. It wasn't a date and Keanu just became the kind person that slept with people for money.

He sneaked out of her house while Steph was still asleep, embarrassed, disgusted and confused. Keanu expected the ride back would help clear his head, but he was still feeling the same way as he got home.

“Did you charge extra for staying over?” Scott asked, and Keanu’s only reply was a headshake. “Rookie mistake. Always charge extra for spending the night,” Scott instructed. “How much did you make?”

Keanu just handed him his phone, moving to the kitchen to get himself something to eat even if his stomach felt queasy.

“Not bad.” his friend whistled. “Now, here’s what you gonna do: get some of this money and buy yourself a suit. Nothing off the rack either. Something good, that fits you well. You never know when they’ll want to take you to a gala.”

“No, man. I’m done with this,” Keanu replied. “With this money, I can get things going and maybe…” he trailed off with a hopeful sigh.

“Suit yourself.” Scott had a doubtful look on his face but just shrugged, disappearing into his room without another word.

Keanu really thought he was done with Mars and Venus. He stayed away for two weeks, but between paying for the studio so Dogstar could finally record a demo and some idiot backing into his bike and messing up his exhaust, the money he made from his date with Steph was over too quickly. Everything was so damn expensive in LA.

So, he reinstalled the app discovering he had missed several invitations while he was offline. With a knot in his chest, he upped his price from 2k to 3k and waited. Soon enough Keanu had new invitations.

Another week passed before Keanu got another invitation from Steph. He thought he would never hear from her again because she shouldn’t need to pay for company or sex; but there it was, her name flashing on his screen during rehearsal.

Keanu knew he shouldn’t. He had been thinking about her no-stop for the last few weeks, watching her movies like a lovesick boy with a crush. He should stay very far away from Steph.

“Hey Ke! Are you gonna do this or not?” Brett called with an expectant look.

“Yeah. Just a sec,” he replied distractedly as he accepted her invitation.

---

This time, when Keanu arrived in front of Steph’s house and rang the intercom, she immediately had the garage gate open so he could bring his motorcycle inside, which he appreciated. His Norton was his most prized possession along with his bass. And Keanu couldn’t afford to lose it.

He parked it next to her car once again and took off his helmet to look at her, trying to ignore the fluttering on his chest. She had cut her hair. When they first met, her chestnut locks fell to her back, now it hung above her shoulders and it really suited her. It drew even more attention to her big brown eyes, which looked full of hesitation.

“Hi,” he said, getting off his bike and her lips quirked into a small smile.

“Hi. Thanks for coming.”

Once again they stood awkwardly in front of one other, not knowing what to say or do. Keanu cleared his throat and buried his hands in his jacket pockets.

“I didn’t expect to hear from you again,” he admitted, gaze on his boots.

“Yeah… I just…” Steph trailed off with a sigh and Keanu noticed her eyes were reddish and a little puffy like she had been crying.

“One of those days?” Keanu offered, curious but not wanting to pry and she just nodded, leading the way inside.

Right away he noticed the house looked different, the biggest change had been all the photos of Steph and her ex-boyfriend had disappeared from the walls, as well as some of the framed movie posters she had. By the door, he could see a box full of stuff with her name written on the side.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out she probably went through that difficult moment of returning her ex’s stuff and getting her own back. No wonder she had a bad day.

“You like Chinese?” she asked, taking his jacket. “I was gonna order in.”

“Yeah. Love Chinese,” Keanu assured, taking a seat on the couch as she placed the order. After that, she sat down as well and a strange silence hung over them, tense and awkward and Keanu raked his brain for something to say.

“How about we watch something?” Steph suggested and he could hear in her voice she felt just as weird as he did.

“Sure.”

She grabbed the remote, flipping through channels until she froze as a picture of her ex-boyfriend was splashed over the screen.

Action movie hero Kevin Miller is seen again with Victoria’s Secret’s model Gisele Anderson. The couple was spotted leaving one of the most exclusive clubs in LA. It was only a little over a month ago that Miller was dating the Hollywood rising star, Stephanie Walker…

Keanu gently took the remote from her hands and changed the channel. He glanced over at her, noticing her eyes welling up.

“How about some Netflix instead?” he offered, and Steph nodded as he turned on the streaming service and browsed through her selection.

“Wow! You really like procedural dramas and cop thrillers, huh?” Keanu teased trying to nudge her out of her funk. She only gave him a watery smile and a shrug.

“I like to try to figure out who did it.”

“Yeah? Let’s see how good you are,” he said, picking a random movie and pressing play. Steph just snorted, but they settled more comfortably on the couch side by side, their arms brushing every time one of them moved.

As the movie progressed Keanu felt both himself and Steph finally relaxing, the conversation flowing a little easier as they joked and argued about the movie. When their takeout arrived, they spread Steph’s order on the coffee table.

“Did you order for two or twelve?” he teased, looking over the amount of food in front of him and Steph chuckled and shrugged.

“I like to have options,” she said, pilling her plate with a little bit of everything.

Keanu did not expect such a tiny thing like Steph to be able to eat that much; and making the most indecent sounds too.

“Stop looking at me like that!” she said over a mouthful, her eyes crinkling with her amusement. “I spent four months off carbs. I’m making up for the lost time.”

“I can see that. Do you want me to give you the room or something?” he asked with a playful grin. “Because it almost sounds like you’re making love with that noodle!”

Steph snorted a laugh, cheeks turning pink and Keanu grinned. She had a very nice laugh and the most perfect smile. Kevin Miller was a complete idiot for letting her go.

“I don’t sound like that at all,” she replied, sticking her tongue out at him.

“You’re right. It’s much throatier,” Keanu said, sipping his beer and smirking as the flush on her cheeks turned brighter. “And bossy.”

“I’m not bossy!” Steph argued, sounding a little embarrassed. “I just know what I like, and I try to make sure my partner knows too.” She narrowed her eyes at him, her own lips drawing onto a smirk. “If memory serves, you were very much into it.”

“I was,” Keanu said, meeting her gaze. “Still am.”

This time the tension that lingered between them wasn’t awkward, just heavy as they sneaked glances at each other throughout the rest of dinner and movie. Keanu wanted to move closer and touch her; have Steph in her arms, but there was a little voice in his head reminding him that this wasn’t real. She didn’t even know his name.

“Is everything ok?” she asked, and Keanu looked over to see she had a frown of worry. Maybe something had shown on his face.

“Yeah. Just fine,” he lied, combing his fingers through his hair and looking away. “What do you want to do now?”

Steph paused for a moment and Keanu could see she was searching for something to say. He hoped she wanted him to stay.

“I guess we should call it a night,” she said at last and he sighed, schooling his features so his disappointment wouldn’t be too obvious. Keanu put on his jacket and followed Steph to the garage. The awkward silence of unspoken words heaving on them.

“It’s a beautiful bike,” she commented, running her hand over the tank.

“Do you know anything about motorcycles?” he asked perking up at her interest.

“I just know they look awesome.”

“Do you wanna take a ride?” Keanu offered. It was a way to prolong this and for once he had his spare helmet with him.

“Let me grab a jacket and shoes,” she replied, smiling brightly and Keanu felt his heart speeding in his chest. That was all he wanted.

When Steph came back Keanu could see the excited glint in her eyes as he helped her put on the helmet, adjusting the strap under her chin before she climbed behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and he could smell her perfume surrounding him as he started the bike and took off.

Keanu didn’t want to scare her, so he kept it under the speed limit as he rode the roads of Hollywood Hills, but as he noticed her delighted laugh every time he took a sharp turn, he dared to put a little more speed, her hands tightening around his waist.

“That was amazing!” Steph exclaimed as they stopped at the shoulder of the road where tourists usually parked to take pictures, but at that time of the night it was completely dark and deserted; the only light sources were the stars and his bike.

She stood there, hair messy from the helmet, cheeks flushed from the ride, with a wide grin watching the city lights in the valley below and Keanu’s breath caught in his throat. Even though he loved to watch that view, all he could do was stare at her.

“Thank you, Charles,” she said, looking up at him.

“Keanu,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

“What?” she asked with a cute little frown of confusion.

“It’s my name. My real name.”

“Oh,” she paused for a moment before her expression shifted into a smile. “Then thank you, Keanu.”

---

“Where did Charles come from?” Steph asked as they sat across each other in a diner she claimed had the best milkshake in Los Angeles.

“It’s actually my middle name.”

“Keanu Charles,” she said almost as if trying it out. “Sounds good. I don’t think I ever heard that name before. Keanu.”

“It’s Hawaiian,” he explained, swirling his chocolate milkshake. “Means cool breeze over the mountains.”

“That’s really nice,” she smiled around her straw and he had to look away so he wouldn’t think about how her lips had looked wrapped around his cock. “How did you end up with a Hawaiian name?”

Keanu took a deep breath, pushing his drink aside as he launched himself into the story about his father and the rest of the family; how he came to LA and ended doing what he was doing. He didn’t share that with many people, but he wanted to share it with her.

In turn, Steph spoke a little about her own family; how she always showed a talent for dancing and acting from a young age and her mom pushed her into doing all the auditions. She told him how she quitted at thirteen because she wanted to have a normal life. She didn’t come back to it until after college, where she discovered she did really love to perform, but on her own terms.

Once again it felt just like a perfect date and when they finished their shakes, which Keanu made sure to pay for, he brought her back home walking Steph to her door.

“I really enjoyed tonight,” she said with a soft smile as they paused outside.

“Me too.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek before he bent down to kiss her. She tasted like strawberries and it was the best thing in the world.

Steph wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed together as they explored each other’s mouths. Their first time had been all about frantic need. Their kisses were hard and bruising. This time, even if the same hunger and heat lingered, there was a softness to it. Almost affection.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked against his lips. Keanu grinned and nodded, letting go of her only long enough for Steph turn around in his arms. He kept peppering kisses over her neck as she giggled and struggled against the lock.

They were back in each other’s arms as soon as they were inside, kissing and touching and peeling their clothes off on the way to the living room. Keanu paused for a moment to look at her, drinking the sight of her beautiful body and he didn’t think he ever wanted anyone as much as he wanted her.

He took a step towards Steph, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. Keanu met her gaze in confusion, finding in her eyes a heated look that made his cock throb.

The hand on his chest trailed up almost teasingly until it buried in his hair and she took a handful of it, her grip firm with just a little edge of rough that made him hiss and goosebumps of anticipation rise on his skin.

“Kneel,” she ordered, using her hold on him to push him down and Keanu obeyed, looking up at her through his lashes as Steph smirked. “You look good like this, on your knees for me.”

She rested against the couch’s arm and spread her knees. Keanu almost whimpered as he saw her soaked cunt glistening in the low light of the room. He licked his lips and met Steph’s eyes again.

“You wanna taste me?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, his voice shaky with need. He was so hard it almost hurt. “Please.”

Her expression turned into a gorgeous sly smirk as she tugged on his hair, bringing him closer until his mouth could reach her and Keanu ran the flat of his tongue over her slit, making Steph moan.

“You don’t come until I do,” she said, rolling her hips against his mouth. “And no fingers this time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled against her.

There was a certain thrill of letting her command him like this, tell him exactly what to do and how. It made him hot with want and eager to please her. Make sure Steph was satisfied. He explored her cunt with his tongue and lips, paying attention to every spot that made her breath hitch or dragged a moan out of her.

He sucked on her clit with just the lightest scrape of teeth and Steph rocked her hips and pulled him even closer, grinding against his face. Keanu was having a hard time breathing and his jaw was starting to ache, but he could see the way her thighs were quaking and hear how she was panting; how her hands kept tightening against his scalp. Knowing he could make her feel this good was urging Keanu on, stroking his own desire as he flicked the tip of his tongue against her clit again and Steph groaned.

“Yes! Just like that. I’m so close,” she panted and he kept his rhythm steady, digging his nails on his thighs to keep himself from touching, his dick aching and leaking in need.

Soon he felt the way her entire body tensed, her thighs pressing against the side of his head as she came crying out his name. Keanu lapped hungrily at her juices, he could get addicted to her taste. He only stopped when Steph tugged on his hair again, pulling him away from her.

Keanu looked up, noticing her flushed face, sweat making her hair stick to her cheeks, a lazy, pleased smile tucked on her lips. She looked even more beautiful like this.

“Good?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

“Fucking perfect,” she said, bringing him closer until he was on his feet again and towering over her. “Deserves a reward.” Steph caught his lip into a dirty kiss that almost felt like she was chasing her own taste in his mouth.

At the first touch of her hand on his cock, Keanu moaned hips thrusting forward at their own accord desperate for more but Steph kept her motions slow and gentle, running her thumb over the head spreading the precum over his length.

“Steph, please…” he gasped, feeling her smirk against his mouth.

“Please what?” she asked, pulling back to look at him.

“Let me fuck you,” Keanu wasn’t ashamed to admit he was begging. He just needed to be inside her and he didn’t care what he had to do to get that. “Please, ma’am.”

“Good boy,” she grinned at him, pressing a quick on his lips. “Condom.”

Keanu moved away long enough to find his discarded jacket, reach for his wallet and grab the condom he kept it there. His hands shook as he rolled it on himself and moved back to Steph, waiting for her next command.

She gestured him to come closer, stand between her legs and Keanu obeyed, stroking himself to get some relief. Steph fixed her perch on the arm of the couch, making sure she had enough balance before she hooked her legs around his hips and pulled Keanu closer wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

They both moaned when his cock glided over her slit. Keanu squeezed his eyes shut, resting his forehead against hers, his fingers digging on her hips in the effort of not thrusting into her, not until she said so.

“God, you’re desperate for me, aren’t you?” Steph caressed the side of his face gently.  

“Yeah,” he gasped, his breath mingling with hers. “May I?”

“Yes,” she said, her hand stroking him again, before lining him to her entrance. “Slow.”

Keanu nodded and forced himself to slowly thrust into the delicious tight, wet heat. He knew Steph was doing this to drive both of them crazy and Keanu was close to losing it. Pleasure coursed through his body, making his mind dizzy with want.

Finally, he was all the way in and Steph shifted a bit for a better position sending sparks of pleasure through Keanu, making his hips snap up to meet her and she grinned at him.

“I love how full you make me feel,” she said, meeting his lips for a soft kiss. “Come on, baby. Fuck me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Keanu hiked her legs up to his waist and pulled back, almost all the way out before slamming back in, groaning as the movement made heat build on the pit of his stomach, her walls throbbing and fluttering around him.

Steph held onto his shoulders, letting him do all the work since she didn’t really have much leverage to meet his thrusts. Little cries of pleasure spilled from her lips as she leaned her head back, exposing the beautiful column of her neck and Keanu kissed and nipped gently, careful not to mark her smooth skin.

He got lost in sensations. The feel of her around him squeezing his cock almost as if trying to keep him close whenever he pulled back. The wet sound of their bodies meeting mixed with their groans of pleasure. The smell of their sweat together and the taste of her skin. The sight of her blissed-out expression as Keanu fucked her into incoherent pleas of more and faster.

Keanu was so focused on Steph, on making sure she was enjoying herself that his own orgasm took him a bit by surprise. He held her close, burying his face against her neck, grunting and panting and she held him through it, petting his hair.

Once he caught his breath, he met her gaze with a frown.

“You didn’t…” Steph just smiled.

“Takes me a while to come again after the first,” she said, kissing his cheek. “It’s ok, Keanu, I enjoyed it.”

“No, it isn’t,” he said pulling back from her and going on his knees again. Steph just chuckled, brushing his cheek. “I want you to feel good and I’m not gonna stop until you do.”

“Okay,” she replied with a grin. “Get to work then.”

xxx (tbc) xxx

Go to chapter 3

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[deamstellarus]

In Viata Asta (3)

Pairing: Stucky x Reader Word Count: 6k Warnings: Uhm…none? Maybe injuries and language?

A/N: Sorry this update is so late! My work schedule was shit last week so I was behind on editing and posting. So! I thought posting a little early would help make up for it, and it’s the longest so far? Also yes I know, this gif doesn’t have that much to do with this update but I love how it looks.

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You woke up to murmured voices and mechanical beeps. You were in a bed in a very white room. You could only assume it was the infirmary of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Several IVs were attached to your arm. A woman with long dark hair in a bun and a white lab coat jotted something down on a clipboard beside you, then took her leave silently. Something was making your brain feel hazy. Your bets were on the strong antiseptics in the air, but it was more likely whatever pain meds they were feeding you. Your hand was bandaged now, your back probably was too for how tight it felt. You started to sit up in bed.

“You don’t want to do that, zvezdochka. With your luck, you’d probably pull all your stitches.” Natasha sat next to your bed in an uncomfortable chair, staring intensely at the screen of her tablet. She set it down on the small side table next to you, and pushed a button on a remote. Your bed shifted you into a seated position. She held a white cup with a straw to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool water soothing your dry throat. 

“How long...?” You croaked. 

“Only twenty-four hours. You lost a decent amount of blood but we got you back soon enough.”

Then why did it feel like you were laying on fire?

“Your back was practically shredded from the rocks.” Had you said that out loud? “You needed a few stitches but you’ll be fine. The boys should be back in a few minutes with snacks, if you’re hungry.”

You nodded. Or tried to; your neck was stiff. Natasha went back to her tablet, so you closed your eyes for a few more minutes before Steve and Sam’s voices echoed through the otherwise quiet space.

“Look who’s up. Miss Rough and Tumble.” Sam’s toothy grin lit up the room.

“How are you feeling, Blue?” Steve’s ocean eyes were filled with concern. He looked perfectly okay. As if he hadn’t almost drowned in an evil river. Stupid super soldier serum.

“Just peachy, Cap.”

“I thought we had a deal.”

“Sorry… Steve.” You smirked. Your stomach grumbled. Loudly. He chuckled and plopped the white paper bag he held on your lap. You opened it, smiling to yourself when you found a couple buttery croissants and one of those twisted glazed doughnuts. Natasha was giving away all of your secrets it seems. You chose a croissant, biting into the warm, flaky pastry. It was glorious.

“I see you still can't go very long without getting yourself into some kind of trouble," a familiar voice said. 

"Sorry, sir,  I—" Steve started before you cut him off.

"To be fair, I was doing fine on my own until these hooligans showed up." You muttered, mouth full, lazily gesturing to Steve, Natasha, and Sam, who stared at you indignantly.

"Don't be like that, Baby Blue!"

Fury looked unimpressed. "Excuses are—"

“...just lies we tell ourselves to justify doing something poorly." You finished his phrase, then swallowed. "It's nice to see you too, Nick."

"Nick?" Sam gasped.

"What, did you think his name was just Fury?"

"He doesn't exactly like when anyone calls him that," Sam grumbled.

"Aww, Nick! I knew you were going soft on me." 

Fury grunted, but eventually relented and came over to pat your shoulder until you flinched at his touch.

"Heal up, Agent. We’ll talk about the incident when you’re standing on your own two feet again," he said as he walked to the door.

"Not an agent," you called after him.

"We'll see about that." He threw out.

You pouted. You knew it was unbecoming of you, but this is what you'd been dreading. You didn't want to come back to S.H.I.E.L.D. That time of your life turned out to be so traumatic you ended up in a cabin by yourself for two years. But the reality is, you knew he'd get his way in the end. He always did.

__________

As far as doctors went, Dr. Alexandra Marks was patient and kind, and clearly had years of experience dealing with agents that tended to make reappearances in her infirmary. She was thorough with her diagnostics and made sure to emphasize what you could, but more importantly could not, do while you were in the recovery phase. Stitches, a heavy dose of fluids, and an advanced topical solution to help “speed up cell production”, and you were patched together the best you could be. Supposedly, they had a machine that was designed to generate skin, called the Cradle. It could have prevented the scarring, but it was out of commission due to an update or something. To be honest, it sounded too much like a cross between a crazy science experiment and a magic trick. Just the thought made you wary.  

“While you’re still lucid, I need you to give me a report of what happened,” Natasha said after Dr. Marks and the boys left. She attached a keyboard to her tablet, pulling the kickstand out so the whole thing could rest on the bed tray. “It’s just better to do this while it’s still fresh in your mind.”

“Yeah, I know.” You frowned at the screen. Blips of the incident flashed through your mind. “Honestly, I’m not too sure what I actually remember. It feels like it’s all a blur.”

“Any little detail helps,” she pushed. “Anything at all.” 

Weren’t those guys just Hydra goons though? But if that were the case, then why did it feel like there’s something more to this?

“What aren’t you telling me?” 

Her face went through a series of micro-expressions that you would have missed had you not known to look for them.

“Is it not Hydra that came after us?”

“We don’t know. But… it doesn’t look like it at this point.” She sighed. “Just write the report for now.”

“Okay.”

So you did. Any little thing you could remember from the men to the river, you included in your retelling. For the most part, you didn’t remember the men standing out in any way more than they seemed out of place in the general store. The majority of the normal clientele wore flannels, sweatshirts, or thick hunting jackets. The sleek black jackets and black caps they’d been wearing made them stand out. That being said, everything was nondescript, no labels, no logos. Pretty generic bad guys if you were being honest. The only thing you could think of was the small tattoo on the side of one of their necks, but you hadn’t been close enough to see the actual design. 

Maybe that was just you being paranoid and projecting. The tattoo was probably just a tattoo. 

A couple hours later, Dr. Marks released you, with a promise that you wouldn’t do “anything unnecessary like your troublemaker friends.” You snickered at that.  

Natasha gave you a tour of what you now learned was the Avengers Compound in upstate New York. Apparently, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been running part of the agency out of the side buildings that were part of the campus since they re-established, while there was still a segment in D.C. She pointed out the different buildings and rooms during the brief tour, but you were distracted, rightfully so, by the sheer amount of agents that gave you judgemental stares the entire way to the main Avengers building. You steeled your nerves; you wouldn’t give them anything more before you could physically defend yourself.

You stepped into an elevator after Natasha, the smooth doors sliding silently shut behind you. You allowed your shoulders a break from the stiff, upright posture you’d taken.

“You alright?” Natasha asked.

“Yup.”

“Ignore them. The most fun the majority of them have is over rumors and gossip.” Natasha said. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., third floor please.”

“Of course, Agent Romanoff,” a voice responded from above.

“A.I.?” you questioned. Natasha nodded. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. is one of Tony’s creations. She’ll help you with anything you need.”

“Huh, well thanks in advance then, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“It’s my pleasure… I cannot find your identification in any system, miss. What shall I call you?”

“Oh, you can call me Blue?”

“Very well. Enjoy your stay, Blue.”

The doors opened, revealing a hallway that lead to the left and right of the elevator and seemingly wrapped around the perimeter of the building. In the center, you were able to look down over a common area of sorts, with a variety of couches, tables, an oversized TV, and a kitchen off to the side. Natasha turned to the right, passing several doors before she stopped.

“This is your room.”

The door in front of you was a glossy white with a biometric scanner to the side. 

“Put your hand to the scanner,” she said. You did. A blue light shone through your hand, then with a soft click, the door slid open. The room was bigger than you thought it’d be, but knowing who owned the building, you didn’t expect anything less. There was a plush bed on one side of the room, a desk with a swivel chair on the opposite wall. Tall windows allowed natural light in the space. A fluffy rug and long drapes helped make the room less cold and clinical. But that wasn’t what drew your attention the most. 

Draped across the bed was the plush purple blanket Clint had bought you when you were first brought back to headquarters. It was so, so soft. On top of that was your green duffle bag. It was the one thing you took with you everywhere. It stayed stocked and ready for if you needed to leave at short notice.

“Thank you, Natasha.” 

“Of course,” she nodded.

"No chance of me going back to the cabin, huh?" You asked. Because as lonely as it had been there, it was yours, for the most part, and had become your safe place.

She shook her head. "Sorry, Blue. It wasn't discovered yet, but now they've seen your face, they know you're in the area. We can't take that chance."

You knew that, of course. She only confirmed it.

“There’s an ensuite bathroom behind that door, and a walk-in closet next to it,” Natasha pointed out. “It’s not the cabin, but it’s a good place to stay. You’ll like it here,” You nodded. 

She pulled you into her arms, her hands holding you like she didn't want to let go. 

"You scared me, zvezdochka," she whispered into your hair. 

"I know. I’m sorry.” It was rare for her to show so much emotion. As long as you’d known her, Natasha had always kept her feelings hidden.

A cough at the door disrupted the mood. 

“What does a guy have to do to get the famous Widow to hold him like that?” The man leaned against the door frame, dressed in jeans and a vintage band t-shirt. It seemed far too casual for such a well-known billionaire.

Beside you, Natasha pulled away and rolled her eyes. Like a switch, her blasé facade was back in full force.

“Tony, this is Blue. Blue, Tony Stark,” she introduced.

“What kind of name is Blue?” 

“It’s a nickname,” you said.

“Uh huh.” He squinted at you. “And your real name would be?”

“Leave it alone, Stark,” Natasha growled.

“I just find it strange that not only is there no record of her in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database, but I can’t find her anywhere. Not a name, a city, a school, medical record. Nothing.”

Natasha bristled. Her eyes were narrowed slits. “I said leave it alone, Stark. She’s a personal friend of mine and Barton’s. Leave it alone.”

Tony glared at Natasha for a moment before yielding. 

“Fine, but we’re talking about this later.” To you, he said, “Welcome to the compound, kid.”

He took his leave, and Natasha shook her head. 

“He doesn’t like when he doesn’t know everything about something or someone. Unfortunately, he will get his way eventually. He’s pushy, but it comes from a good place.”

“Don’t worry about me, Tasha. I can handle him. Besides, I am living under his roof for now, he has a right to know what he wants to know.” 

“Only if you want to.” She puts a hand to your shoulder, before she walks to the door. But his inquiry did make you wonder…

“Why isn’t there a SHIELD file for me, or at least Agent M?”

“It may have gotten...lost when I released the files to the public.” 

“You deleted mine instead of yours?” You remember she had a list of aliases, most from before she joined “the good guys.”

She shrugged. “It was time for a new chapter anyway.” She waved it off as if it meant nothing, but she risked her own neck so you could remain nameless.

“Thank you, sestrenka.” She was always looking out for you.

“Dinner is at six. You’ll meet most of the rest of the team then. Take a nap, you look like you need it.” She winked.

“Tell me the truth, how bad does it look?” You tilted your head, indicating your back.

“Eh, it’s just a few stitches.” With that, she left, copper curls bouncing behind her. And really you had no choice but to take a nap like she said. Especially when the bed looked that comfortable. __________

Natasha lied. That was your only thought as you looked at your body in the mirror of your bathroom. It was not just a few stitches. Forty-seven in total. You cringed as you read off the report FRIDAY supplied. Hearing it from Dr. Marks, and reading it off the report, hadn’t quite prepared you visually for the reality of your injuries. From what you could tell, your back was covered in black zig-zags, reminiscent of Frankenstein's monster. At least as much as you could see that peeked out from underneath the white bandages and gauze. Plum-colored splotches covered your body. In addition to your back, your right hand also received six stitches, and your sprained ankle was now wrapped. And there were bags under your eyes. You looked awful and felt like a walking bruise. 

“The meeting will be starting in fifteen minutes, Blue,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice startled you.

“Thanks.” You’d have to get used to never quite being alone alone. 

Dinner passed by pretty well the night before, by your standards at least. Tony had apologized for his aggressive questioning, with a nudge from Pepper Potts, however wary of you he may still be. That was alright for now. Steve and Sam had taken the initiative to make you feel included in the conversations, though you were more content to observe the people around you. You were introduced to Col. James Rhodes, who had a dry sense of humor and held himself like a military man, and Dr. Bruce Banner, whose alter ego was a stark contrast to the mild-tempered man that had sat beside you. By far, the most fascinating member you’d met was Vision, an android with an English accent who reminded you vaguely of a curious child. 

Now you were heading to a meeting Fury requested you attend. A loose-fitted tee and a pair of sweatpants and you were on your way out the door, wishing you’d had the forethought to have packed makeup in your duffle bag. While you never needed it on the mountain, it would have helped make you look marginally more presentable and less dead. Especially on the walk through the interconnected buildings to the conference room where you stuck out like a sore thumb. Maybe Natasha could take you out to pick some things up soon.

You cracked the door open. Eight and a half pairs of eyes followed you to the empty seat next to Sam. You were the last one there. Of course. Fury stood at the head of the table, Maria Hill next to him, arms behind her back. She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you. Steve, Natasha, Tony, and three agents in uniform filled out the rest of the table. A projection screen behind Fury exhibited pictures of several men you didn’t recognize. 

“Now that we’re all here, let’s begin,” Fury said. He pointed between two of the five pictures on the screen. “These two men matched the facial recognition we were able to get off the cameras at the general store where the Captain and Agent M were first shot at, amongst civilians. There were no casualties in the store.”

You squinted. The men looked familiar now, especially without the hats to obstruct their faces. In the right image was the man you’d known to have the tattoo. Now that you could see it, on the left side of his neck, the small symbol looked like three triangles overlapping.

“They were found dead in their vehicle on the side of the road, SUV wrapped around a tree. This is confirmed with the reports Captain Rogers and Agent M gave upon arrival.” He pointed to the next two images. “These two were killed on sight by the extraction team in search of the Captain and Agent M.” He pointed to the last of the five head shots. “This last man was interrogated briefly by Agent Romanoff before he was terminated.”

“So were they Hydra agents from the mountain base?” Steve asked, confusion clear on his face.

“Not exactly,” Fury said.

“He wasn’t Hydra,” Natasha said. “He said Hydra was a group run by hot-headed leaders with imperfect ideals. He said what they were was bigger and better than Hydra could ever hope to be.”

“And who are ‘they’?” Steve pressed.

Natasha shrugged. “He didn’t say, just that there were more of them and now that they had a ‘confirmation,’” she made quotes with her fingers, “they’d have all they needed soon enough to execute the program. He didn’t elaborate on what the program was or what exactly they’d confirmed. But before I could really press him for more, he killed himself. Cyanide tooth capsule.”

“Long story short, we’re led to believe these were not Hydra agents that tracked the two of you down. There were no markings on the body that would express allegiance to the group, nor did any declare their motto.”

“So what are you saying?” Sam questioned.

“I’m saying there is another organization who has at least one of the two of you as their target of interest and until we know who they are, you need to watch your backs.”

“No offense, sir,” one of the agents began. “But what would terrorist organization want with her?” She was pretty, blonde, and had an intense look about her. She wasn’t outright rude, she had a point at least; you’ve basically been in isolation for two years. Besides, she had to be more than capable to be in this room to begin with; that didn’t mean her comment didn’t irk you. You pushed down the urge to get defensive, and schooled your face into a neutral mask.

Simultaneously, all eyes were on you.

“At the moment we’re not quite sure,” Fury admitted. “Agent M’s official history within S.H.I.E.L.D. is otherwise non-existent as far as the database is concerned. However, that doesn’t mean no one would recognize her if they worked under S.H.I.E.L.D. before the disbanding.”

“You think this group is a bunch of ex-S.H.I.E.L.D., ex-Hydra rogue agents?” Steve interjected.

“Anything is possible,” Fury said. “For now, it’s best to assume Rogers was the target and Agent M was just an additional person of interest by proxy.”  

“Keep your eyes and ears open for anything that could be related to this organization.” Maria advised. “If there really is another large-scale terrorist group among us, it’d be best to nip it in the bud as soon as possible.”

After the briefing, Fury held you back, as most of the others left the room. Maria relaxed by his side, her shoulders not quite as taut.

“You’re reinstated as an active agent, effective immediately, Agent M.” Fury held your gaze with his good eye. 

“I never said I wanted to come back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you I never wanted to be put in that situation again.” You glared back. The fingers on your left hand dug into your palm.

“We all have to do things we don’t want to do.” His large hand cupped your shoulder. “Just because you run away from something, doesn’t mean it goes away. You are good at what you do, and I refuse to let you waste your skills anymore.”

“But I—” He cut you off. 

“You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, Blue.”

He rarely called you by your nickname. It was always ‘Agent.’ You sighed. As difficult as Fury has always been, he’d never given you bad advice. He was the one who fought for you to stay and train to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in the first place all those years ago. 

And yeah, maybe he was a tad softer on you than on the others. You’d seen him as a father figure of sorts. If he thought you should be reinstated and otherwise get your head out of your ass, then you really couldn’t argue.

“Fine.”

“I knew you’d see it my way.” Fury smirked, patting your shoulder twice heading towards the door. “As soon as you’re cleared for it, you’ll start training. Rest up. This little incident tells me you’ve lost your touch.”

__________

You sat on a couch in the common room a week later, skimming through the data, searching for anything you could connect to an unknown terrorist group. Without a name, it was hard to even associate what little frays you did find, and you were led to dead end after dead end. You set the laptop on the seat beside you and pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes. You looked to your Stark-issued phone for the time. It was well past midnight. This wasn’t the first time you’d been unable to sleep this week due to your mind racing about the implications of an unknown group trying to bring devastation for whatever reason they’ve deemed justifiable. The bad feeling in your gut only intensified the more frustrated you got at the lack of information. You really wanted to punch something, but you weren’t cleared to do more than brisk walking, lest you pull a stitch and elongate your recovery period.

You went to the kitchen and poured yourself some water. The cool liquid did nothing to soothe your restlessness. So instead, you paced the halls, a habit you picked up since you arrived. You passed the entryway to the lab. More specifically, Tony and Bruce’s lab. The other common occurrence you’d noticed every night were the lights in the lab always being on this late in the night. It seemed like Bruce usually went to bed early in the evening, preferring to start his day earlier than most. Which left Tony as the only possible night owl. 

You hesitated by the door before pulling it open and wandering through the cool-toned lights in the lab. Classic rock played softly through the speakers. Tony stood at table at the far end of the room, back hunched over. He was poking at something that caused small sparks to shoot from the device. His masked face was probably still too close to the object. 

You pulled out a stool from a neighboring table smoothly, just enough to make some noise, not enough to startle him. The masked tilted up, then focused once again on the task at hand.

“Not asleep, Agent M?” He said with an ever-so-slight sneer.

“You can call me Blue, you know.” Tony hadn’t warmed up to you like you’d hoped in the past week. He’d been distant, always in the lab. Natasha assured you that was normal for him though, so you took her word for it. 

“Do I know that?” He snipped. He worked in silence for a few moments, then he put down his tools and flipped up his mask. His eyes were rimmed in red, most likely from exhaustion. “You know, I just find it odd that everything was all fine and dandy until Rogers and Co took a trip to Washington State. Now there’s a new terrorist organization we have to look out for, and you show up with no official identity in any database on the planet, and one word from Fury and we’re supposed to just be okay with that? I’m not exactly a big believer of coincidences.”

“Just ask what you want to know, Stark. I don’t want to always feel like I’m tip-toeing around you.” Because it was annoying. 

“What’s your history with S.H.I.E.L.D.?” 

“Natasha and Clint were on a mission, found me as a teen in an abandoned warehouse. Brought me back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. I was an agent for three years.”

“What made you leave?” His gaze shifted elsewhere.

“Bad mission. I lost people I cared about.” His eyes found yours. “And with Hydra discovered inside the agency and S.H.I.E.L.D. dissolving, I just got out while I could.”

He was quiet for a long time. Absently, you twirled a random screw between your fingers.

“Tell me about the mission.”

You squeezed your eyes closed, sighing deeply. You recalled your worst nightmare like it was yesterday. You opened your mouth to begin when he put a hand up.

“Sorry. You don’t need to tell me.” He waved you away. “I can be insensitive when I’m tired.”

“It’s alright, I understand. Long story short, it went really, really wrong, and I couldn’t handle it anymore. I was young-”

“You’re still young, kid,” he quipped.

“-and I already couldn’t remember my past. Losing people, people I was especially close to, was too much.” Your breath shuddered. “I didn’t want to have to go through that again, so I left. Fury kept tabs on me, same with Natasha and Clint. But I swore I wasn’t going to be an agent anymore.”

“And now, here you are.”

“Here I am.”

Tony nodded. He got up unexpectedly, shuffling over to a hidden cupboard that housed a coffee maker. He came back with two mugs, steam spirals swirled in the air. You took a sip. Minty.

“It’s a peppermint blend. Some candy cane Christmas bullshit I got in a ‘thank you’ basket over the holiday. It’s barely coffee, not even caffeinated, but it tastes nice. Supposed to help clear the mind or something.”

You shrugged. Because it was good.

“So… you don’t remember your past?”

“I don’t even remember my name.”

“That must be tough.”

“Mhm,” you agreed.

“Listen, I’m sorry for the rough start. Genuinely. I spend so much of my time trying to do the best to defend against the bad, that I sometimes jump to conclusions and can be…”

“Overly suspicious?” You supplied.

“Yeah.”

“No worries, Stark…”

“Tony.”

“Tony,” you smiled. “I would have thought the same thing. I mean hell, I almost embedded a knife in Captain America’s head when I first met him.”

“I want to do that sometimes and I’ve known him for years.” He chuckled into his mug.

“So we’re good?” You didn’t want to just assume. A heart to heart doesn’t always form a friendship, but at least maybe you’d be on good terms now.

“We’re good, kid.” He smiled, a genuine grin on his lips. “Come on, you can help me test this new version of my gauntlets.”

Huh. Maybe you were wrong. __________

Another week passed before you were cleared for active duty. The scarring was… definitely there. Harsh, red lines spider-webbed around your back. Apparently, it healed faster than Dr. Marks anticipated, especially without the cradle. She seemed convinced the shorter recovery time meant there was a high chance the scarring would fade quickly as well. You weren’t exactly a vain person, but it didn’t look pretty as of now. At least you could cover it up easily. 

You were placed into a random group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Group C apparently, and were given a schedule that listed off times for hand-to-hand combat training, weight training, endurance training, and shooting practice. You were convinced Steve loved to see you and the other recruits suffer as he pushed you all to run the laps of the course around the compound. The first day, you were dead after three miles, collapsing on the ground when the muscles in your legs gave up and lying on gravel sounded like a better idea. Steve only ordered you to get up and run again. You might have grumbled something about seeing if you’d ever save his life again.

Now you were able to keep up with the group. You found it a necessity, as you’d overheard in the locker room how they didn’t like you because you were “definitely sleeping with the Captain” or why else would you be there. You’d caught a stink eye more than once, and decided you had to push harder and tune them out. The chatter was useless. You knew the truth, so their opinions didn’t matter, but you didn’t want Steve to be accused of favoritism. He didn’t deserve any unnecessary backlash. 

By far, Natasha was thrilled to have you in training again. 

“You’re having too much fun with this Natasha,” you groaned from the mat. 

You were constantly being thrown by her, taunted that you’d lost your reflexes from being out of practice. You always ended up sore and bruised after a session. The snickers of the other agents really pissed you off, but you couldn’t exactly bite their heads off. Plus, even when you were in your best shape, you weren’t always able to out-Natasha Natasha; you’d only done it a few times. You knew first hand the rest of the agents in the room couldn’t do that. And you’d out-fought enough of them to know that.

“You’re making it easy on me,” she pulled you to your feet. “Maybe you should practice with someone with a little less agility for now?” She tilted her head to Sam, who’d over heard as he sauntered in and pulled a bitch face at her.

“Oh that’s low, girl. Real low.” But he joined you on the mat anyway.

Sam’s strikes were powerful and quick, like a boxer. He shuffled his feet, throwing punches at varying intervals. You dodged and blocked what you could. He got in a few hits before you picked up his pattern. That was the problem with most people in hand-to-hand. The body naturally wants to move in a rhythm, just like in running, but it’s too predictable in fighting, which is one of the reasons it was so hard to fight Natasha. She was slippery as a snake and it was hard to anticipate her next moves at the speed she moved.

You swung your arm out, your fist clipping him in his unprotected ribs, jumping out of range after. He stumbled back. You took the opportunity to rush him, diving low last minute to the space beneath his legs. You half-turned in your crouch and kicked your leg out, knocking him off balance and crashing into the mat. Finally.

“Adequate,” Natasha complimented. “But I’ve seen you do better. That was sloppy.”

You nodded, panting. She was right, but you’d take then win. It would take you a while to get back to what your skills had been, but even you had to admit. The ache of your abused muscles was actually rather nostalgic. __________

It was well after dinner when a knock at your door had you sitting up, causing the ice packs to tumble off your body. You sighed.

“Come in!”

Natasha stepped in, eyeing the ice packs. 

“Have we been too rough on you?” She teased. You didn’t take the bait.

“Nah. Just not used to it yet.”

Natasha nodded. “Just wanted to let you know Clint and the others are almost here. The quinjet should be landing in five, if you want to join us.”

“Of course.” You stumbled off the bed, and slipped your shoes on as you followed her to the hangar.

The hangar was cleaner than you would have thought. Relatively spotless and spacious. You and Natasha joined Steve, Sam, and Vision by the marker number 1 just as the rumble of an engine made the quinjet known. The noise echoed loudly in the space as the jet landed smoothly in its spot. The engines cut off, and with the high-pitched whir of the propellers winding down. The door opened down into a ramp. At first, no one came down, then there was a stumbling, mummy racing down the ramp toward you. Clint scooped you up into his arms, twirling you around, rambling a mile a minute.

“I thought Tasha was messing with me when she said you were here!” He was shouting in your ear, but you couldn’t get a word in edgewise. “When did you get here? How long are you staying? Wait! Are you back for real?”

“Barton, I’m pretty sure she can’t breathe.” Natasha’s voice cut through his excitement.

“Oh, right.” He plopped you down. You staggered before you caught yourself.

“It’s good to see you too, Robin Hood.” 

His eyes flitted over you, not overlooking the bruises from training this week.

“Geeze, you look awful. What happened?” 

“What is with the two of you?” You looked between him and Natasha. “You can’t just tell people they look awful when they’ve been beaten up. Besides, you’re one to talk,” you sassed. Clint was covered in butterfly bandages and deep purple bruises. “Can’t you go on one mission without coming back like you belong under a pyramid?”

“‘S not my fault.” Clint scratched the back of his neck. You stared at him pointedly. “Well, not all my fault.”

“Some things never change.” You grinned.

“Blue, this is Wanda Maximoff.” Natasha held her hand out to a girl around your age, with long auburn hair and sparkling green eyes. She looked at you hesitantly.

“Hi, I’m Blue.” You did a little wave, then immediately regretted it for how dumb you probably looked. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” She enveloped you in strong arms. She had an accent you couldn’t place, but it wasn’t so thick you couldn’t understand her. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Natasha and Clint. It’s nice to match the face with the name.”

You smiled, because she seemed very sweet. You could already see yourself being friends with her. You noticed Vision hovering just behind her, and when she pulled away, her hand reached back to find his. That was cute. You also now had questions, but that was for another time. You certainly weren’t close enough to just ask anyway.

Behind you, Steve was embracing a man with shoulder-length brown hair. He looked just as built and strong as Steve, maybe an inch shorter in height. Steve’s eyes were closed, his lips were moving, speaking too low for you to hear. The intimacy of their moment had you assuming they were more than friends. Definitely together. You wondered if the public had that knowledge, but it was more than likely not. The media would probably have a field day with that info.

Steve opened his eyes, meeting yours with a smile before he stepped back and called out to you.

“Hey Blue! Come over here and meet Bucky!”

His companion turned around and the breath caught in your throat. You did a double take. After all these years, you never thought you’d see him again. Maybe you’d dreamed you’d find your long lost friend, hoping that you both hadn’t changed too much to pass each other on the street someday without realizing. But you would recognize those eyes anywhere. 

Before you could open your mouth, he spoke. 

“Ingeras?” _________

A/N: Just now realized I haven’t given any translations for words so far, but I will from now on!

zvezdochka (Russian) - little star sestrenka (Russian) - sister, sis ingeras (Romanian) - angel

_________

In Viata Asta Taglist:  @rvgrsbrns​ @artsyspacebee​ @thelovelydreamer17​

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

Friday Nights (2)

Full series: 1 3 4 5 6 (more coming soon)

Word count: 851 (sorry it’s short)

Genre: Honestly idk, maybe a little angst but mostly fluff?

Pairing: Jake x Amy (with platonic others in the squad)

Warnings: Minor swearing (let me know if I need to add more)

Summary: After Amy’s breakup with her boyfriend, Jake and Amy establish a weekly binge watching night and both avoid their feelings for each other.

A/N: Chapter two!  

**Please note that the warnings, pairing and genre are for the whole series so it varies chapter to chapter.

Amy POV

When I opened the door I expected it to be a salesman trying to get me to buy some awful product, not Jake.

"Hi" I gasp. "Um... would you like to come in?"

He nods. "That would be great." Awkwardly I step aside to let him in and notice that he is carrying a bag of what looks to be take-out. I wonder why he's  here. He's supposed to be at Shaw's with the rest of the squad. Apparently I've been thinking too long because when I come out of my thoughts he's giving me a strange look.

"So what are you doing here?" I ask to try to alleviate some of the awkwardness.

"Oh... um, that." He replies as he shifts around from foot to foot, something he only does when he is uncomfortable. "So you probably know how the rest of the squad is at Shaw's, right?" I nod in confirmation. "And you know how sometimes Gina can be a bit scatterbrained sometimes." This time it's more of a statement than a question but again I give a slight bob of my head. "So funny story," he chuckles "When I had to leave the precinct to go work a case I gave the job of inviting you to Gina - I know horrible idea, I don't know why I did that, why did I do that?"

"Jake" I glare at him to tell him to move along in his story.

"Right. On with the story. Anyways short version is that she forgot to invite you and I am here to apologize." Huh. Gina has always been the one who liked me the least so hearing that she's the one that forgot about me actually doesn't hurt because it means that the rest of the squad actually meant to have me there. Jake's voice breaks me out of my thoughts again.

"I'm sorry. I brought Chinese to make it up to you." He looks at me with a surprisingly serious expression on his face that can best be defined as remorseful. I realize that he actually feels really bad about what happened even thought it is not at all his fault.

"Don't be sorry it's not really you fault." I quickly rush to reassure him.

"Okay then, guess I didn't need the Chinese after all," he says, " I mean if you're not mad..."

"In that case I am absolutely furious," I respond jumping onto his joke, "And the only way you can make it up to me is by giving me some take-out."

Jake POV

I'm so glad that Amy isn't upset and also that Daniel isn't here. That would have been very awkward. It still did feel a bit uncomfortable to start but she told me that it wasn't my fault at all and she jumped on board with my admittedly lame attempt at humor. Plus she is unloading the take-out onto two plates so she's expecting me to stay which is amazing. She's amazing. I really need to stop thinking like that. I tell myself that Amy is only friend and that she has a boyfriend several times to try to clear my head. Just as I finish talking to myself I hear Amy come out of the kitchen with two plates in her hands.

"Where are we eating?" I ask.

"Well I was thinking that maybe we could eat in front of the tv and see if there is something on Netflix we could watch." She replies.

"Sounds like a plan." I respond, grabbing a plate from her hands and heading towards her living room.  Her couch, as much as it looks like something a grandmother would own, is super comfy and I easily sink into it balancing my plate on my lap. She sits down beside me putting her plate on the table so she can pick up the remote. As she scrolls through Netflix I cannot help but see that all her recommended shows and movies are all super boring documentaries on subjects that I can barely pronounce. It's such a classic Amy thing that I smirk and wonder if she even watches real shows or movies.

"What is it Jake?" Amy is asking in her annoyed voice. She must have seen me smirk.

"Nothing... nothing at all." I say in what is my most innocent voice, "It's just that your Netflix account is a confirmation of how sad your life is!" I tease looking over at Amy. Except when I look over at her I am surprised to see that she isn't laughing or rolling her eyes like she usually does when I make a joke, she actually looks a bit sad. I don't know what to do at all. This isn't her normal behavior. I probably took my joke too far and insulted her. I came over here to apologize and make sure she felt alright but instead I made her feel bad about herself.

"Amy?" I whisper still unsure of what to do. She doesn't say anything and just looks at me for a very long moment before bursting into tears.

[wkm-detective-abe-squad]

All Together, Prologue and Part 1

Making A Plan

Word Count: 2257

Based on this AHWM AU

Warnings: None

Author’s Notes at the end

Some say that the night is dead, that it is silent and empty, but that is never quite the case. As the moon rises and the world is lulled to sleep there is always someone, somewhere who resists the darkness’s lullaby. An owl, willingly or not, left to their own devices as the stars above make their journey across the skies.

Tonight, however, seemed to be filled with a whole flock, ruffling their feathers as wide eyes search for something far from their grasp, something that cannot be hunted by one alone.

With their skills, their experience, and their hints of jumbled memories, success appears to be in reach, despite the secrets, the conflicts, and the haunting truth.

However,

It is also important to note the average owl’s brain only takes up about ⅓ of its skull.

Which can equate to roughly the size of a thimble in some species.

…

Do with that information as you will.

________________________________________________________________

Blue and red hues colored the moonlight gently streaming into the lab, as the steady hum of machines filled the void with quiet noise. At the hour of 4 am, the halls should have been emptied hours ago, but of course science never sleeps, so neither did the scientist. It wasn’t healthy, she that more than anybody, but she considered it a small price to pay for what was at stake.

At least that’s what she told herself. It was difficult to label what exactly was at stake when nothing simply made sense anymore. Nothing was adding up in the way they should, and the scientific method she held on to appeared to be failing her at every turn.

The first indicator of something being amiss was the time. Yes, staying up till 4 in the morning was horrendous for a person’s circadian rhythm, but that wasn’t the major issue. The major issue was that the sun was shining bright, and the clock was reading 2:37 pm up until she had turned from her desk until just moments ago to be met with darkened windows. Yes, perhaps Einstein’s theory of relativity could be to blame, but she wasn’t that absorbed in her work… okay maybe she was, but even she had to get up once in awhile in the span of roughly 13 hours that had somehow passed in an instant.

The second indicator was a feeling that was gnawing at her from the inside out. A sense of Deja vu that would never leave, a constant feeling of a word stuck on the tip of her tongue, and bits and pieces of memories in her brain that seemed logically impossible, even in her dreams.

What did it all mean?

Despite the piles of handwritten notes strewn across her desk, she felt completely at a loss. At least she had the newly built Time Anomaly Tracker… that she had no recollection of building, to show for.

Maybe she just needed a break from it. Maybe things would make more sense in the morning after what little sleep she could get.

But first she needed to slow down the wheels turning in her mind. It was a good thing there was an old TV in the break room, that should do the trick. It didn’t take her long to plop down onto a dusty couch and grab the remote. Hopefully it would be enough to distract her from all her thoughts. 

-click-

“Order your bubbles today-”

-click-

“Welcome to Warfs-”

-click-

“You think she cares? Bad Dog!”

-click-

So picky, she couldn’t help but drone through the different channels until a shaky camera and a stuttering voice caught her attention.

“Hello everybody this is Jim, and this is my associate Jim. Welcome to this Jim News Exclusive -stay low, stay low- Tonight, we bring to you-” the reporter paused for a moment to dramatically point to the camera, as if this was a message directly to Rose Beauregard herself, “live footage from the scene of the crime. The crime of robbery. A robbery so mysterious, so mystifying that no one could even pathom how the the robberors could have broken into this heavily guarded museum in the first place!”

From the way they were sneaking around, it appeared that the reporters had broken into the museum. It was actually quite impressive considering the lines of caution tape that wrapped some exhibits like Christmas presents, the addition of a laser based alarm system, and the obscene number of patrolling guards and policemen that could be easily seen in the background.

"We must be careful Jim we don’t know what dangers may be lurking abo- oh hand me the steak," it was thrown off camera, quickly followed by a distant voice cheering in delight about the free snack, “The Old Steak Trick, works most of the time.”

Soon, maybe a little bit too soon, the Jims approached a very much unlocked and strangely unprotected vault. 

“Here it is, the grisly scene. Not one, not seven, not four, but two insidious individuals committed the reprehensible act of theft in this very vault. Yes, the item that once here is no longer here. It has disappeared, off with the perpetrators. We have no confirmation about exactly what it is they actually stole, but we have our theories. It could have been a treasure map or an ancient salt shaker, it may be from another world or the source of a time anomaly, it could be fairy (like the ones we learned about in history class) or the world’s oldest picnic basket, it could be all of these, it could be nothing at all, the possibilities are endless.”

“Now I’m sure many of you watching at home are shaking in utter fear, I am too, but fear not. Thankfully for you innocent, or perhaps not so innocent civilians, justice hit them hard, even harder than how Cousin Jim was hit by that bus, and a great many times quicker. Our inside resource has informed us Jims about the fates of Mark Iplier and his assistant Y/N. They are already locked up, far, far away at Happy Trails Penitentiary to never see the light of day again. We are safe, for now.”

“However, there is still a mystery to be solved. For unknown reasons, the object of question has not been returned to its rightful place. It’s tragic on every degree, that poor stolen object, it must be so scared and alone now that its captors are behind bars. But that is why we have taken it upon ourselves to get answers. And this time I swear, on every Jim ever to Jim, that we will find an answer to whatever, wherever, whenever, and whyever this thing is-”

The Jim’s voice was cut off by another’s, which resulted in the reporters and their sole viewer being being thrown off guard. In their hasty escape, the camera tumbled to the ground, making it even more difficult to decipher who the new person was. From the small glimpse, it didn’t appear like they worked at the museum, nor were they dressed as any law enforcer. Nevertheless, they didn’t seem so glad to see the trespassers.

“You two again!? Why won’t you quit?!?” was the last thing to be heard before the screen was claimed by static.

The scientist simply sat on, dumbfounded by whatever the hell she just watched. Her head was filled with so many questions she wasn’t even sure where to begin. There was a heist at a public museum, yet no one knows what was stolen? How were the perpetrators already in jail? Didn’t the crime just happen? When was the trial? And why did everything seem like it was…

Out of order.

“Mark Iplier… Y/N… A time anomaly”

It all finally clicked. 

This had all happened before. Well, sort of. The events were different as far as she remembered. Thankfully it appeared she was no longer in a timeline riddled with the undead and raiders, and undead raiders. However… if she had already destroyed the anomaly before, all of the time-space issues should have been fixed right? Unless, of course, her original hypothesis about of all this was wrong. Perhaps it wasn’t the box causing all the trouble, maybe, it was Y/N and maybe this Mark causing the trouble. The strangeness always seemed to be triggered by them afterall. 

Too many of her questions were still left unanswered, which only served to fuel her curiosity and need to fix this once and for all. However, this time Rose was no longer at a complete loss, she now had a lead, which only meant one thing:

Off to Happy Trails Penitentiary.

________________________________________________________________

Blue and red hues colored the moonlight blanketing the courtyard, as the blaring call of ambulance sirens added to the usual chaos of the night. 4 am was too late for any of this, but crime never slept, and apparently neither did any of the criminals. Which in turn led to a very sleep deprived and grouchy warden that now that had to deal with one prisoner being punched through the wall and another pulling off a magic disappearing act.

Not to mention the holes. There was a giant hole in the bottom of his office, several even larger holes in the cell walls, and another that was vaguely human shaped and a little bit too disturbing to deal with at the moment. It felt like the place was built out of goddamn graham crackers.

At least the injured prisoner was properly dealt with, Mark Iplier, or Asshole Mark as the other prisoners called him, broke too many bones for the staff to handle so he was sent off to a nearby hospital to recover. The warden didn’t mind, he was causing too much trouble anyways going off and asking for his personal belongings.

And speaking of the two’s personal belongings, the box they had arrived with just so happened to disappear with Y/N, who was otherwise known as *Insert Ridiculous Prison Nickname Here*. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to open it yet and now it was gone. However, that wasn’t the worst of it. Y/N was gone, or perhaps very good at hide and seek. He was hoping for the latter but after several hours of guards and prisoners counting and looking, it didn’t seem very likely.

The warden was offended on all accounts by the newest prisoner's conduct. There hadn't been a breakout in years and then suddenly they waltz in and think that they could just waltz back out like it was no big deal. Though yet again, he doubted the charade would last long. Most of the criminals of Happy Trails wouldn’t last a day out in the real world. They even sang a song about how they never wanted to leave. It would be soon enough until they came crawling back again, and when they did, they were going to face all the wrath of Warden Dave Murderslaughter. They were going to get rehabilitated harder than they would ever get rehabilitated before, whether they liked it or not.

But for now he had to play the waiting game. Somehow, someway or another, he was going to take the reins over once again. This was his penitentiary after all, and what kind of warden would he be if his jail wasn’t in proper order?

________________________________________________________________

At this hour the world seemed almost monochrome. It was an hour in which one should be snuggled up in bed, or in some cases, a jail cell safe from the dangers of the world. It was for sure not an hour where someone should be braving the summer night’s heat as they wander through tall grass, with no one other than the insects eating them alive as a companion.

Y/N had escaped, that was a given, but that didn’t mean they felt free. Once everyone knew they escaped, the hunt would be on. All they could think of at the moment was to carry on forward, but they knew they’d have to think of a plan eventually. If only Mark was there with them… he was always the one to point out their options.

But now they were all alone, truly alone… Wow, when was the last time that happened? Of course they couldn’t remember, during all these adventures memory never seemed like a necessity. With every bizarre scenario that came along, it was difficult to process the present as it was. Trying to analyze the past was a whole other be a feat in itself. As Yancy said, “The past ain’t the kind of thing to be trifled with.” It was the future they really needed to worry about right now.

They had to forge their way out of this mess somehow, but they couldn’t do it all by themselves. They needed to find Mark, or at least some they could trust, they needed to make sure no one else would be looking for them, and they needed to learn the truth about the box they had gone through so much trouble to steal. In it was a key as far as they knew, but inside they knew that there had to be more going on. Something that perhaps Mark wasn’t telling them about.

So now they had… something that resembled a plan. They were still unsure of the road ahead, but perhaps if they followed that plan… and don’t deviate from it… everything might just turn alright in the end after all. 

________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading, it’s much appreciated :) Future parts should have less POV switching, this is just mainly to set up where each character is at starting out. (Also please don’t quote me on the owl facts, I was just trying my best to make a dramatic metaphor) 

Tagging: @thatforgottenbasilisk @thecatchat @statictay @gay-spaghetti @captainsaltypear @chelseareferenced

[rioterrl]

Chapter 1 - Labor Friends

                                      “What does a mirror look at?”                                                   -Frank Herbert

        I see him at work every day. That part is hard. Sometimes, it is exciting...the part about it being hard-and I don't mean that in a double entendre way. I don't know any male dinosaurs who are intimately involved with other male dinosaurs. I've seen it on television occasionally, but it often seems to be used as a source for comedy. I laugh along with the studio audience when the masculinity obsessed head of the household side eyes a male character with a lisp on his tongue and flamboyance about his behavior. "Peculiar" comes up in One Flew Over the Pterodactyl's Nest. Queer is another of these words, and certainly more common nowadays. It's considered...     strange...         odd...             suspicious...                 abnormal...                     or even...                     ...ridiculous behavior... to be a man who is attracted to...other men.

        The main point driving this concept seems to be the fact that women like men and therefor a man liking a man is basically a man behaving like a woman. It's funny stuff. I don't know why I laugh at it. I don't understand the humor on any level beyond shock. But once the shock wears off, it just seems like it's nobody's god damn business who consents to intimacy with who. And for that matter, who cares which scaly sack of bones and meat behaves as a woman and which scaly sack of bones and meat behaves as a man? It's not an attack on masculinity, I can tell you that much. My masculinity is an undeniable part of who I am, and my masculinity informs me that anyone who would bother another free citizen of Pangea about what they do with their free time as an adult who is harming no one is a small dinosaur. A coward. 

        I see him at work everyday. 

        I also see him after work more often than not, as he has been my best friend for more than half of my life. I used to look at him as long as I could without being noticed by him or anyone else. It felt as though it was important for my own inner monologue that I hold his face in frame while I wonder if he ever thinks about me in the way that I try not to think about him. It's genuinely hard to tell. 

        Roy is a Tyrannosaurus Rex. He's strong, confident, funny, kind, thoughtful, but...he's not very bright. I feel like if Roy has never had a thought about another man, it was simply because the idea had not entered in head through outside suggestion. I think most dinosaurs like member of the opposite sex almost exclusively because that's what they were taught. WE were all taught this simply because it's how to keep propagating all of the dinosaur species, or whatever it's called. We're at a point in our society now where it's becoming clear that we are not going extinct anytime soon. Plus, the majority of men I know commonly engage in sex with their wives that involves contraceptives and pulling out. This doesn't provide life to a baby any more than two men having sex does.        

        I decided that today will be the day that I attempt to get Roy into a conversation about sex between men just to see what his response is. He invited me over after work to help him set up his new TV set. He got one of those new big screen TVs that could probably literally fit a football game inside them. I'm talking live, field and all.

        Roy checked the TV remote to see if we installed everything correctly, and then upon confirmation that everything was as smooth as fossilized amber, we high fived and struck our cocky "we are men and we can do anything" poses. At leat, that's what I felt like we were doing. Maybe Roy doesn't think about things the way that I do. It's not that I don't naturally feel manly. I assure you, I am drawn to manly behaviors by an innate drive...and impulse. But the fact that I'm also drawn to the manly behaviors of others...I guess I'm not as disconnected from the shame projected by many members of our society as I would like to be. I tend to point out things like gendered behavior. I tend to notice when that behavior fits like a gloves, or when, as in my case, it's a bit more awkward and uncertain.

        I realized that Roy had been flipping channels for a couple of minutes now as I had seen the same channel pass multiple times...and these new boob tubes get about 18 channels. at least I wonder if he was lost in thought too. I was done with the beating around the bush, though. That's not the kind of man I am. "Roy, let me ask you something." I stated, calmly. "You give me no choice," joked Roy, halfway glancing at me for a moment while still flipping through the channels. I often have to choke back the words that I want to say to Roy, now that I've let the tension build so damn much. (please pin me to the ground)  "Uhh...have you ever met a gay dinosaur before?"

        "Yes, this morning in the mirror."

        "Wait, really?!" I blurted out, as my other senses caught up with the fact that Earl offered a small chuckle as he had made the comment. What was the joke? I looked around the room we were in, scanning all of Roy's manners with interest. The mirrors throughout his house seem to behave fairly normal, so he was definitely saying that he was the gay dinosaur he saw in the mirror this morning. Rowdy caterpillars turn into rowdy butterflies in my stomach, as Roy interjects.

        "Doesn't gay mean happy?" (to me, yes) "Oh, haha. I guess it does. Or used to. Interesting how words evolve, huh?"

        "I don't know, Earl. I don't really believe in evolution. Lest you forget about what we learned every summer at bible camp."

        As soon as the words, "bible camp" had left Roy's full lips, I was sucked back 30 years into a full on "this is a movie" flashback. I could see 10-year-old me sitting in a chair, and the chair was a part of a whole circle of chairs, all full of young dinosaurs, some of which I remember still and some of which are composite images constructed by my brain to fill in the gaps in my memory. I can also see Roy sitting next to me. Young Roy and young me were both giggling loudly, along with the other kids. Everyone looked as though they had just came to am abrupt stop and fell into their chairs a split second before I tuned into the memory. Some dorky looking high school aged dinosaur pressed a button on a boombox and a silly song came on, very loudly, and the kids jumped up and started sprinting in circles around the chairs. Ah yes, musical chairs back at bible camp. If I learned anything at bible camp, it was how to prioritize my seat over everyone else's. And also, this:

        The music stopped and I watched as 10-year-old Earl and Roy went for the same chair at the same time and completely knocked it over, falling onto each other. It wears Roy falling onto me even though I was certain the last time I had the memory that I was the one who fell onto him. I guess it's just hard to really remember fully, because at that point nothing else existed except for his eyes which were looking into mine, full of smiles. We kissed and withdrew from each other with immediacy as we remembered who we were and that the whole class would surely be staring at the two guys who just fell in what had to be a hilarious way, but as we looked around we noticed that everyone else had experienced similar falls, and were preoccupied with their own resulting fits of laughter and joy. The room dissolved and I was spit back out in Roy's living room as he was finishing up some kind of comment he wanted to make about intelligent design or whatever. He didn't seem to notice that I had mentally checked out for a minute to remember the first time we kissed.

        I'm sure Roy doesn't think about it.  

        Or at least not like I think about it.

        I think about it all of the time.

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

[sharperthewriter]

The 15th Annual Kim Possible Fannies - Chapter 1

From the Desk of Sharper Hello, everyone, we finally made it to that point. It is time to reveal the winners of the 15th Annual KP Fannies Awards. Of course, this is the third (and last) time (for now? Who knows. :P ) that the plot of this story will focus on the live-action movie. Also present is a parody of the streaming services that every network seems to be going into these days...and of course, the craziness that we're all dealing with right now with the...thing-that-shall-not-be-named. So let's kick back and enjoy the ceremony...hopefully without incident this time...hopefully... :P Kim Possible, characters and settings (both live-action and the toon) are created by Schooley and McCorkle and (c) by Disney. The fanfic is rated T for some language, comic action violence, a drug reference, mild thematic elements and some suggestive dialogue.

Chapter 1 - Quarantine (LAM verse, April 16, 2020, 6pm) And the Dow dropped today by another 1000 points due to the virus pandemic... ...schools throughout Colorado will be closed until further notice... ...there are now 7,303 confirmed cases of COVID-19 in Colorado with 290 deaths... ...Smarty-Mart is now instituting rationing for paper towels, toilet paper, and tissues, along with hand sanitizer and cold medicine...

Kim Possible sighed, looking at the depressing news on the TV. Even though she was the girl who can do anything, it was  beyond her comprehension to dealing with the sitch involving the coronavirus, something that wasn't machine-made by one of her rogue's gallery of villains in one of their world-domination plots. Although she, Ron, and Athena were deemed as 'essential workers' in their duties of saving the world by Colorado's governor, no villain on Kim's list has even attempted a world-domination plot because they required the use of henchpeople, which would be a violation of 'social gatherings' of more than 10 people. "Athena, can you please turn off the TV? It's bringing my mood down!" she insisted. The current 15-year old, in a blue shirt and jeans with her Kimmunicator pendant, was sitting on one end of the couch. “I'll have to switch it to a streaming service.” Athena was  sitting on the other end of the sofa. She was in a purple heart t-shirt and jeans. “I'll get it...” the teenaged cyborg said. She looked in the cushions.

“That is, if I can find it...” Kim tried her hand in finding the remote. However, it was nowhere to be seen in the couch. “Don't tell me the Tweebs have it!” Kim groaned. She knew what potential danger a mere TV remote would be in the hands of Jim and Tim.  Last time they did so, they caused a 12-hour long power outage in Middleton. “I'll ask your Dad...” Athena said while standing up from the couch. “Ask away.” Kim insisted, “Keep in mind, though, that Dad is busy doing the 2020 US Census.”

“Hey  Mr.Possible! Have you seen the remote?” she asked into the kitchen. “Yeah, it should be on the coffee table....I think..." James replied. "Now...do we count you in the census?" "Dad...you're a rocket scientist and Mom is a brain surgeon. You should probably know the answer!" Kim replied. "Then I would take that as a yes." James replied, marking down his answer. "Speaking of Mom, is she still at the hospital?" Kim asked. "Unfortunately, yes, she is, Kimmie-cub." James answered. "She has been working 14-hour shifts ever since this whole virus outbreak began. And I'm working from home as well due to the fact that one of the scientists at the space center tested positive for the virus."

Kim sighed, "I can't be cooped up in here!" "Doesn't Middleton High have that e-learning thing up?" Athena questioned. "They do, yes." Kim said, "But some students in the district don't have access to a computer."

"Have you two seen Ronald?" James asked, sniffing the air. "He's coming over here to the house." Kim replied, "Said something about getting a few things from Smarty-Mart." "How can he? Did you even see the scenes of empty shelves?" Athena asked in disbelief. "I don't get him sometimes, Athena." Kim said before hearing a knock on the door. "Can you get that, Kim? It's probably Ron." Athena replied. Kim got up from the couch and wondered. "How did you know?" She opened the door and saw Ron clad, head to toe, in a HAZMAT suit with disinfectant spray in two gun holsters. He was also holding a duffel bag. "Ron...what are you doing?" Kim groaned. "KP, I'm doing what I have to do to protect my friends!" Ron exclaimed as he took a couple of cans of disinfectant spray from the holsters to begin spraying the Possible house. "I do not want the death virus to kill the ones I treasure the most." Kim began to cough. "Ron...you don't have to go that far! All we have to do is follow the CDC reccomendations and we should be fine!" she insisted.

"What about Nana, though?" Ron countered, "At her age, the virus would be more problematic!" "It's no big, Ron! We can still chat with her!" Kim said, dismissing his concern. "How?" Ron asked. "Duh! We live in the year 2020, Ron! Video chat!" Kim sighed. "Oh right!!" Ron said, realizing the technology. "I almost forgot about that."

"Ronald..." James said as he entered into the living room. "...would you mind being watchful about the disinfectant spray?"

"Dad, it's just Ron being Ron." Kim replied. She then whispered, "You did stock up in the panic room, did you?"

He whispered back, "We did. We bought at least 50 rolls of toilet paper and 20 rolls of paper towels. As long as we don't run out of supplies, we should be fine." "Ron...lose the HAZMAT suit..." Kim insisted. "Why don't you come and sit with us so that we can stream some movies together? It'll take our minds off this thing for at least a few hours."

Thankfully, Kim made Ron take off the suit, but not before he sprayed every square inch of the Possible household with at least 30 cans of the disinfectant spray.

[bpro-cardstories]

Goshi Kaneshiro Kizuna 03

2019 ー Christmas Promise [上を目指して]

“ To me, my first impression of you was the worst.”

Part 1 | Part 2

‘Ashu, where’s the remote control?’

‘The remote? Eh~hmm.. Here!’ 

‘Thanks’

‘Gouchin wants to watch TV, how rare! What do you watch?’ 

‘Yesterday’s recording’

‘Yesterday’s… You mean the live broadcast of the music program?’, Kento inquires.

‘Yeah’ 

‘It was the first time, we performed a new song live ~ Alright, let’s watch it together!!’, Yuta decides on his own. 

‘Ha? You guys can watch it later on your own. I need to concentrate ー’

‘Ah, wait! I will prepare some juice ~!’, Yuta is unfazed by Goshi’s words.

‘Yuta, bring me some mineral water’, Kento says. 

‘Ok ~!’ 

‘Tsk, they never listen…’ 

Then the door chime rings. THRIVE wonders who it might be since they don’t expect guests for today. Against expectations, Tsubasa vists them. 

‘Thank you. I’m sorry for the intrusion’

‘Tsubasa, welcome. What’s the matter?’, Kento welcomes her warmly. 

‘Because I had work nearby, I was thinking about the material of the next job…’ 

‘I’m sorry to come in on your free day. I’ll just explain some things and will go back immediately’, Tsubasa explains to them. 

‘You don’t need to be in such a rush. Would it be much trouble if you took a small break?’, Kento gently suggests to her. 

‘That’s it! We wanted to watch yesterday’s live recording of the music program just now. Tsubasa-chan, do you want to see it too?’ 

‘No, I will go in a bit…’ 

‘Well, you watch it too’, Goshi says with a few words.

‘Is it alright?’ 

‘If it’s watching together, whether it’s three or four people, isn’t it the same. 

That’s about it, now sit down’, Goshi tells her. 

‘Thank you very much. Then, I will accept your offer…’ 

With that Yuta enthusiastically starts playing the recording. But instead of being to watch it quietly as he intended to, Goshi is bothered by the talk of his teammates. Both Kento and Yuta are satisfied with the performance, complimenting each other. The youngest member also has kind words for Goshi. He is praised for his smile during the show, and his idol-like appeal that he seemed to have gotten used to now.

Yuta then remembers how it was not always the case. Long ago, when they were young Goshi had a hard time opening up to the camera. It got better as he turned into an adult. Goshi rather doesn’t want to speak about the past. 

‘Gochin looked even more on edge than now when he joined Bambi, right ♪’

‘M-more than now?’, Tsubasa asks a bit surprised. 

‘.... Ah? What do you mean with ‘more than now’?’ 

‘Wait Goshi, don’t intimidate Tsubasa’, Kento tells Goshi to watch his tone. 

‘I’m not intimidating!’ 

‘I-I’m sorry… But, I can hardly imagine what Kaneshiro-san was like during the Bambi time’, she tries to explain. 

‘Gochin during Bambi was ~ … His face was scary, but he was diligent and tough!’, Yuta remembers back. 

‘Well, unexpectedly, he was the type to do everything without fail and with much precision’, Kento adds to the talk. 

‘Diligently and without fail… Hearing that, it didn’t seem to have changed much from back then…’, Tsubasa thinks aloud. 

‘Surely, this probably didn’t changed much. But generally speaking, he always had a tense expression. Some children were scared’. 

Kento tells further that Goshi was originally not an idol, and didn’t know what to do with it. For him it was just stupid talk and he was not interested in this business, Goshi adds. Tsubasa understands, however she still wonders why he went to the casting when he wasn’t interested in it to begin with. The story behind his participation is simple, back then he wanted to do music and looked for a place to do so. His seniors gave him a flyer for an audition without knowing that it was for Bambi or what Bambi was. 

‘So, if you had known it was for Bambi, you wouldn’t have applied?’, Yuta asks. 

Goshi confirms more or less, he thought it would be a failure anyways. Kento rather has harsh words for him. In his opinion, if he had such an unpleasant expression like Goshi all the time he would have given up immediately. Tsubasa wonders why he continued even though it was more uncomfortable than enjoyable for him. 

‘I guess, I was expecting that I could concentrate on music someday. If you keep going, surely chances will come eventually’, Goshi explains.

‘Hee ~.... The Gochin from that time already thought about that’.

‘....Which reminds me, during startings and breaks Goshi was in a bad temper the whole time but during practice he always was serious. I didn’t understand this difference at all. He was a weird guy, I thought’, Kento reminisces. 

‘Geez, if you do practice sloppily, then there is no meaning to it. That’s why, no matter how reluctant I was, as soon as practice started I went in with all my energy’, Goshi counters.

‘That’s how Gochin is!’ 

‘Aa, what a bothersome place’, Kento comments. 

‘Leave me alone’, Goshi gives back as a reply. 

‘Fufu, but it’s thanks to your diligence, the current Kaneshiro-san exists, right’, Tsubasa compliments him.  

‘Aa,... maybe. Besides, I wasn’t always in a bad temper’. 

‘I was happy when I could do voice training. It was satisfying how I was able to do the things, I wanted to do’, Goshi tells with a smile. 

‘Speaking of which, during Bambi, you also could choose an instrument’, Tsubasa remarks. 

‘Aa, in that sense, I think Bambi was an environment where I could improve myself’. 

‘Certainly, it was an environment where you could get as much as you wanted if you had ambition. That I was able to practice the piano was a big help as well. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to move my fingers like now’, Kento agrees.

‘Hee~, everyone practiced a lot in various ways. I enjoyed dancing, that’s all I did’, Yuta thinks back himself. 

‘I was the opposite, I wasn’t good in dance lessons’, Goshi admits. 

‘Gochin, you were poor at dancing, weren’t you’, Yuta says with a mischievous expression. 

‘Eh, is that so? I can’t imagine it now…’, Tsubasa voices her surprise. 

‘Gee, I’ve never done dancing before. While we are at it, I didn’t have any interest in studying performance at first’, Goshi tries to defend his younger self. 

‘But I couldn’t avoid it for forever… I was able to do it sooner or later’. 

Yuta continues to talk about his fond memories. Back then, when he returned to the dormitory he would review the day with everyone. Goshi however wasn’t as enthusiastic, it was more bothersome for him to do same thing from morning to evening. Kento agrees with his teammate. Yuta is shocked at this reveal, he thought everyone had fun just like him. 

Goshi remarks how Yuta was able to talk with everyone without much hesitation. He clearly was the mood maker, Kento adds to the former’s remark. For Yuta it was natural since everyone was nervous so he thought, it might have been relaxing for everyone if he talked to them. Again, it didn’t worked for Goshi. Rather than being pleased, he was annoyed at Yuta’s behaviour. 

‘To me, my first impression of you was the worst’, Goshi says matter-of-factly. 

‘Eeeh ~ !? That’s a lie, a lie!’ 

‘It’s not a lie!’

Goshi was fairly annoyed at how Yuta kept tagging along and asked him questions out of nowhere. 

‘That’s because Gochin was always alone!

「I am a lone wolf… Don’t come closer」 that’s how it looked like!’, Yuta imitates Goshi’s past self.  

‘Oi, are you taking me as a fool?’ 

‘The Goshi from that time somehow was like, ‘leave me alone’, right ~

Well, it’s still like that!’.

‘Haa…? What’s that about…’ 

‘Fuu… You should know’, Kento replies with a smirk. 

‘Ha?’ 

‘Nothing. Alright, it’s about time I go back to my room’, Kento says in a nonchalant tone. 

‘Tch, what the…’ 

‘Well, well, calm down, Gochin ー Oh, a call from Ryu-chan. Hello ~ ♪’ 

‘.......’

‘Ah… ehm… Everyone’s gone, huh’ 

‘Geez, I can finally concentrate. Gonna watch it from the start again’, Goshi says in tired tone. 

‘You should too’, he prompts Tsubasa to watch it together with him. 

‘Yes, of course!’ 

To be continued….

[broadstreetmisfits]

Blame (part 2) - Kevin Hayes

Part 1

Requested?  Y  /  N “looved blame! pls do a part twooo!”

Prompt: N/A

Warnings: None

A/N: I am so so sooooo sorry this took forever. I’ve had it done but I haven’t had the time to actually post it. I’m getting back into writing so woooo!

WC: 1,190

It had been about a week since you had that moment with Kevin and ever since it happened, it kept replaying in your head over, and over again. You hadn’t talked to him after it happened, and honestly, you weren’t sure if you ever wanted to. Sure, you wanted to see how he actually felt and make sure he wasn’t messing with you, but you also didn’t want to risk getting caught by the other two guys, and you were sure Kevin didn’t wanna be in that position either. But when you got home from shopping, you were, of course, shocked to see Kevin in your apartment. 

“Uh, hello?” You spoke, causing Kevin to look up from his phone over at you

“Hey,” He replied as he stood up and gave you an awkward sort of half smile

“What are you doing here?” You asked as a smile formed on your lips as well

“Well, I wanted to see you, alone” He answered and as you opened your mouth to speak, he beat you to it. “And don’t worry about the other two. They’re still at the rink. They wanted to work with coach for a while longer.” 

“That’s good” You began as you and Kevin both sat down on the couch, facing each other. “So, what did you want to talk about?” 

“Uh, last week, actually. I’m sorry if this is weird or anything, but I have not been able to get my mind off of that moment” 

“Really?” Was all you were able to squeak out

“Yeah. There was just something about it that I can’t shake.” He confirmed, “I know you probably don’t feel the same. I should probably go-”

“No” You interrupted him as he started to get up “I mean no, don’t go. Stay, please.”

The last part ended up almost like a whimper. You had no idea where the desperateness came from, but it was definitely there. 

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it - about you - either. There’s something so… so captivating about you.” You admitted

“So, what does this mean? For us?” 

You were silent for a moment before finally speaking “Honestly, I’m not sure. I wanna get to know you more, but I don’t wanna ruin the reputation that we have with the other two guys.” 

“I get that. The guys would never let us live this down if they found out.” He agreed. Kevin went silent for a moment before he perked up. “Why don’t we just have a cover?” 

Raising your eyebrow, you asked, “What do you mean?”

“Like we keep it low key. In private we do the cute stuff like kiss and cuddle and what not, but when we’re around anyone else, we go back to acting like we absolutely despise each other?” 

“I like the way you think Hayes”

“So is that a yes?” He asked 

“It’s a yes” You agreed and planted a kiss on his cheek

The next few weeks you spent the majority of your time either sneaking over to Kevin's place or sneaking Kevin into yours. You will admit, going to Kevin's was a whole lot easier since he didn't live with anyone. Meanwhile, you had to deal with your brother and Brady constantly being over. Somehow though, you two managed to make it work. 

One day the next week, the other guys had gone out to go grocery shopping leaving the apartment to you. Of course, you invited Kevin over and you two spent some quality time alone. He had brought over your favorite movie, *insert movie* and you guys spent the afternoon watching it, occasionally making out as you watched. 

Or at least that was the plan. 

About halfway through the movie, you heard the door to your apartment unlock. Your eyes widened as everything slowed down. Instinctively, you darted off the couch and over to the kitchen and pretended to look for something while Kevin lounged on the couch. Moments later, the door opened to reveal Jimmy and Brady. 

“Y/N! We're back!” Jimmy yelled 

You poked your head from around the corner to the door “Hey guys” you said awfully cheerfully 

“Uh hey…” Brady began and then saw Kevin on the couch “What is he doing here?” 

“He was just uh…” you began as you walked out, but you trailed off, not knowing how to finish your sentence

“I was just waiting for you guys” Kevin spoke, “Didn’t you guys say you’d meet me at your place when you were done?”

“Maybe…?” Brady questioned, looking over to Jimmy for help

“Man, I don’t remember,” Jimmy said, “But hey, it’s cool if you stay.”

When you heard that Kevin was staying, you let out a contempt sigh. This lead to Brady and your brother giving you questioning looks.

“Why’re you all happy?” Jimmy asked “You usually hate when Kevin is over”

“I can be happy for other reasons,” You said “But I’m happy because I won’t have to entertain Bozo over there. That’s your job now.”

“How’d you entertain him?” Brady asked, a smirk playing on his lips

“Simple. Handed him the TV remote and told him he could watch whatever.” You answered, “Now, if you don’t mind me, I’m going back to my room to finish an essay for class.” When you finished your sentence, you turned and began to walk away.

“Really? It seems like you entertained him in a very different way.” Jimmy said

You froze. “Uh, no”

“Your neck tells a different story,” Jimmy said, a smirk plastered on his face. He thought he had won.

You cursed under your breath before turning around to face the three guys. “Okay, fine. Kevin and I got into a Nerf gun fight and he shot me in the neck. It so happened to bruise” 

All of the boys, including Kevin, were incredibly confused. Kevin opened his mouth to say something, but you shot him a glare which instantly caused him to stop.

“A nerf fight?” Brady questioned “I’m pretty sure you guys don’t even own nerf guns” 

“We don’t” Jimmy informed him, “Now can you tell me what on Earth is going on? For real?” 

“Kevin and I are dating” You finally told them

“What?!” The two boys asked in unison

“How long has this been going on?” Jimmy asked 

“About two or three weeks” Kevin said and looked to you for confirmation

“Yeah, that sounds about right” You told him

“Well, it looks like you owe me twenty bucks” Brady said to your brother. You and Kevin looked at each other with furrowed eyebrows

“Uh why are you paying him?” You asked

“We made a bet” Jimmy grumbled “Brady thought you two would get together before the end of the year and I didn’t.” 

“Wow, I did not know we were worth betting over” Kevin said, surprised

“So does that mean we can keep dating?” You asked hopefully

Jimmy thought for a minute. As each second passed, your doubt grew. However, it all washed away when your brother spoke again.

“You two can keep dating.” He said “As long as he doesn’t break your heart”