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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 2 months

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Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter Twenty-Six: Busted

Summary- 5.3k. Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. Everyone is getting together for a dart tournament at Paulie's when everything is derailed before the night even starts.

Warnings- Unwanted attention from drunken men, vicious comments and name calling, fighting, police not taking the situation seriously, talk about Curtis's past and his mental health.

A/N- Thank you so much! Everyone who takes the time to like, share, comment, leave me messages and asks. Especially those who just feel seen in this storyline. You all have all my gratitude and appreciation. (let's be honest, I totally tear up and get all emotional) You all honestly are part of the reason I continue writing and sharing. Special shout out to @what-is-your-plan-today for editing. Dividers made by the talented @firefly-graphics

A/N 2- Is there an award for terrible titles? Cause I should have that trophey.

Chapter Twenty-Five / Masterlist

You, Claude and Yona drove together after getting done at the school for the week, heading straight for Paulie's. The three of you were getting ready in Yona’s car, laughing amongst yourselves as makeup was applied in the car's vanity mirrors and someone played lookout while the other changed in the backseat. While you were doing the finishing last touches on your outfit, Claude was filling you and Yona in about having her first official weekend with Sophia present. You were finishing up your lipstick while in the backseat Yona helped Claude do her hair. “How are you feeling about this weekend?”

“I’m excited. I have a bunch of games and stuff to do with her. I just… want her to like me being around when she's with her dad?” Claude fretted a bit, glancing out the window while Yona calmly braided her long hair in an intricate pattern.

“You don’t have much to worry about. Sophia likes just about everyone. Ella and Grey are pretty good co-parents.” You assured her. “What are you doing this weekend Yona?”

The woman whipped a couple of ties in Claude’s hair, patting on the braids to make sure none of them were loose. “Tomorrow I’m taking Edgar to do some indoor rock climbing.” She grinned in excitement. “He claims he isn't scared of heights and it's something I love doing, so we will see.”

“Okay, that sounds pretty cool and Yona, are you like a professional stylist?!” Claude was leaning between the seats to look in the rear view mirror at the tight curls of braids Yona made in her hair, her head tilting left and right to check them out. “I would have paid a small fortune for this at a salon.”

Yona shrugged as if it was no big deal. “I used to do my friend's hair all the time at home. What about you?”

“Oh, I think tomorrow we are gonna have a game night with Tanya, Timmy, Ella and I think Grey was coming around too with you and Soph?” You asked Claude and she gave a nod confirming it. “Okay, I’m ready to get inside. Are you guys?” Another glance out the window made you catch sight of Curtis’s truck in its usual place as well as quite a few other regulars and out-of-state plates, meaning it was going to be a busy night.

Which you didn’t mind, that meant Curtis would spend some of the time helping Paulie at the bar making great tips and giving you a chance to shamelessly check him out while he was working. It always made some fun flirting and usually sneaking off together much to Paulie's dismay. Claiming his place of business was reputable.

“I'm ready,” Claude said as she pushed the door open and the three of you piled out of the car to make your way to the front door, where a group of men were just stepping out and headed back to the cars that had out-of-state plates on them. None of you paid any attention to passing the loud boisterous group till one reached out to grasp your arm, stopping you in your tracks with surprise.

“Where you running off to sweetheart?” He flashed a grin that was supposed to be flirtatious but came off more leering than anything. It made your heart tighten, reminding you so much of Jake’s grin that he flashed whenever he had you cornered. Your eyes widened in alarm as you pulled your arm from the stranger's grasp.

“No thank you, not interested.” You said to brush him off, going to sidestep around him to re-join Claude and Yona who just noticed that you were no longer with them. You weren’t allowed to leave though, he stepped back in front of you, blocking your way.

“Come on, I’m just trying to be nice. You could at least give me a smile.” His gaze fell down your body. You felt sick at his gaze, taking in your figure as if he was contemplating how easy you might be. From the gleam in his eyes, he wasn’t thinking you would pass him up.

“Let me go.” You said calmly, good at hiding the flutter of unease building.

“Y/N… You all good?” Claude re-joined you, glaring at the man in your path as she hooked her arm through yours, making you both a joint team.

He sneered at the two of you, his circle of friends coming to enclose the space further cutting you and Claude now off from the door. There were a few cold snickers and the heavy smell of alcohol coming off of them.

“Yeah, let's get inside, I’m sure Grey and Curtis are expecting us.” You went to lead Claude through an opening between the strangers but that too was cut off. Over their shoulder, you saw Yona take a few steps as if to join you but then dart inside. You were sure she was going for some help.

In the few seconds all this took place, you felt helpless. It would take too long to grab the pepper spray from the keychain in your jeans pocket and Claude was gearing up to swing a punch, you felt her practically vibrating with anger next to you. “What the fuck is wrong with you guys? Fucking dickheads, MOVE.” She snapped, pushing against one's chest to back them up a step.

He was bigger though, an unmoveable force who she bounced off.

The original prick barked out as he waved a hand towards you. “That’s the problem with the girls around here, ungrateful bitches.” He stepped in closer to you, brushing against you momentarily to make you stumble back, his hands once more catching you to pull you aggressively in while you yelled with alarm, slapping at him while losing contact with Claude. “You should be thanking me for being willing to fuck someone like you.”

You could have sworn you felt bile roll up your stomach while his liquored breath soured the air you were breathing, panic starting to set in.

“Let her the fuck go.” Claude yanked at you once more into her hold and you lifted your arm, throwing a punch at the drunk stranger. Your aim fell wildly off its mark but it was enough for Claude to pull you out of his reach and then a sharp roar came up behind them. You only saw a flash of Curtis’s dark face, enraged before he struck. His fist landed firmly against the back of someone's head, pitching them against one of their drunk friends.

“Get your fucking hands off those girls.” His voice was deep with anger, while he shoved his way between you and them, his fist landing in someone's gut, making them keel over and throw up the liquor. Grey came up to block you and Claude, sending you out of the mayhem while Edgar barrelled out of the bar to help Curtis. Yona followed out right behind him to get you guys inside.

“Someone has to help them.” You rushed, ready to go right back out but Grey caught you to pull you back into the bar. Paulie was coming out with a bat in his hands muttering to himself as he went to go outside and from the distance, police sirens could be heard. “Curtis and Edgar are outnumbered, Grey.” You said in a panic and he shook his head at letting you go back outside. Claude and Yona went around the back of the bar to search for a first aid kit.

“Trust me, it won’t last long. Curtis and Edgar are fine.” Grey assured you, catching you from slipping around him. “This isn’t either of their first fights. Just stay, okay? Curtis would ring my neck if I let you back out there. ” He let you go and moved to slip back outside.

“Fuck, fuck fuck.” You swore, waiting all of ten seconds to burst out of the door following Grey. Several cop's cars were flashing lights and scattered around the parking lot. Officers were dragging both Curtis and Edgar into the back of one of the cars. “Hey!” You dashed down the steps to yet again be blocked by another man.

A sober cop this time. You glared up at him while pointing to the car you just saw Curtis and Edgar piled into. “Miss, go back inside.”

“Why the hell are you arresting them!?” Your voice raised in question. “They saved me and my friend from being harassed and assaulted.”

“By who?” The officer stepped aside to show the majority of the men from before bloodied and being helped up.

“Them obviously.” You snapped. “That one blocked me from going to the bar and the rest joined in him taunting us. Fuck, he even grabbed me.”

“Okay Miss, we can take you down to the station if you want to put in a formal statement against them.”

“You still didn’t answer why you arrested Curtis and Edgar. Why not those men?”

You could see the flash of irritation at you, another officer coming up to join him. “Miss, please calm down.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down.” Your arms folded defensively against your chest as you kept pushing for an answer. “Why?”

“Because Everett and Bell assaulted those men and…” He waved his hands at Paulie’s “Intoxicated.”

“That is utter fucking bullshit.” You spat out and they narrowed their eyes at you. “Claude and I were attacked first and they haven’t been here long enough to be intoxicated. The guys who grabbed me, they’re the ones that are intoxicated!”

“That’s not your call to make Miss… What is your name?”

“Y/N.” You snapped out. “When can they be picked up then?” You were raging now at the utter unfairness of what was going on. The men who harassed you were being treated by a few EMTs for what looked like bloody, possibly broken noses. They had all miraculously sobered up enough to put on a decent act. “Yes, I will be putting in a report on them.” You were shaking while you leaned enough to look around the cops. “THOSE ASSHOLES HARRASSED ME.” You flipped them the bird while behind you Paulie came up, bat still in hand.

“She’s right, I just kicked them out for trying to start a fight.”

“Yes, we are being told it was more like the other way around. That Edgar and Curtis were trying to start something inside with them and they left.”

Paulie snorted in disgust while you rolled your eyes at them. “Bullshit, Curtis, and Edgar weren’t doing anything but hanging out at the dartboards waiting on the girls for a game. It’s a tournament night here. This lot took up the slot next to them and started in on them looking for a fight. Kicked 'em out, we all look out for each other here. It was my mistake not checking outside to see who was in the parking lot.” Paulie gave you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry Y/N, if I just followed them out, and made sure they left...”

You put a hand on your friend's arm, smiling at him to assure him you weren’t upset. “Don’t, you had no idea they would mess with us too.”

“Well, we will look into it, if you got cameras set up or anything.” One officer offered a way to a solution, the other looked like he wanted to be doing anything other than dealing with you and Paulie.

“Yeah, I have some covering the front door, it should see everything that happened out here.” He motioned to go inside, the officer following him. That left you with the one who seemed to not give a shit.

“So, I just have to go to the station to get Curtis and Edgar?”

“We will still be keeping them overnight.”

You wanted to continue about how ridiculous it was, but it was clear that was the most you were going to get. Turning away, you went back into the bar to grab your stuff. “They are not letting Curtis or Edgar out tonight.” You informed the group, Yona immediately grabbed her jacket to slip back on.

“I can drive us over.” She informed. “They were arrested?”

“Yeah, supposedly for being publicly intoxicated. And possibly assault.” Claude handed you your purse you had ditched earlier.

“Do you want me and Grey to go?” She questioned worriedly while Grey went to dig out his car keys.

“No, Grey you probably shouldn’t go if you have had anything to drink or else they will find some bullshit to charge you with.” You sighed in aggravation.

He hesitated before pulling you aside. “Listen, I don’t know what Curtis has told you, but they might give you a bit of a hard time.”

“Why?” You frowned while listening.

“It isn’t the first time he has been arrested for fighting and it’s been quite a while but they don't let shit go.”

“Of course.” You pinched the space between your forehead and nose. “Okay, thanks. I will drop you guys a message later about what's going on.” You waved at Grey, Claude, and Paulie on your way out with Yona.

That little dark thought lodged in your brain, wondering if Curtis was hiding his previous arrest from you all along, or was it something he simply never thought to bring up?

Edgar paced back and forth in the cell while Curtis leaned back against the wall, one leg stretched out ahead of him and the other folded closer to him, bouncing now and then with anxious energy. They hated this, both of them but all they could do was wait it out. The likelihood they would be let go tonight was slim. Not with his previous track record.

His eyes were closed as he pictured the look on your face as you looked up at that asshole blocking your way on purpose. You looked calm at that moment, but he could see how wide your eyes were, shining way too brightly with alarm. He had been intent on just approaching and standing the guy down, already knowing he would back down the second he saw him.

But then the bastard had stepped into your space, purposely making you stumble back in an attempt to keep yourself out of his reach, laid a hand on you and that’s when Curtis was ready to rip the man’s head off.

Curtis did manage to lay the man flat out with the promise that if he ever laid a hand on you or any woman again, Curtis was going to rip him apart. That was when the cops showed up. Familiar faces from years ago dragging him off and slapping cuffs on him.

‘Bout time we brought you in again.’

He ground his teeth in aggravation at the memories it dragged up, his eyes slitting to open, watching Edgar pace back and forth muttering about asshole cops. Curtis worried about how you were dealing, were you okay? He knew Claude, Grey, Yona, and Paulie would make sure you were fine, but he just kept picturing your face. Hearing you afterward calling his name as the door slammed on him.

You looked pissed at that moment and he couldn’t help smiling at that.

“What are you grinning at?” Edgar stopped pacing and slouched on the bench next to him, still a ball of nervous energy.

“Just thinking about Y/N giving those officers hell.”

Edgar laughed then, leaning back much like Curtis was. “I saw out the back window, she was mad. Not like it do us any good, but she looked like she was ready to deck him.”

“Yeah, she did.” Curtis barked a laugh. “I don’t think I have ever seen her mad like that before.”

“When do you think they will let us out?”

“They won’t, not till morning at least. Public intoxication and all that.”

“Bullshit charge, we hadn’t even finished a beer yet,” Edgar muttered in outrage, glancing around the empty cell. “I hate this.”

“So do I.” Curtis pushed up to stretch himself out, the bench a hard unrelenting place. He would much rather be in his bed with you, soft, and warm in his arms. “Probably those bastards will just get a slap on their hand and let go too.”

“Fuck I hope not.”

It was hours later when they were finally let go, served with papers for fines they needed to pay. Charges were dropped against them for assault, much to Curtis’surprise. You and Yona were sitting out in the lobby, both of you huddled in the uncomfortable seats, heads leaning against one another in what must have been an unrestful sleep. Edgar was gentle when he touched Yona, his hand brushing along the side of her face, whispering her name. Curtis squatted in front of your seat, letting his hands slide over yours till your eyes slipped open and you gave him a sleepy smile, sliding forward to hug around his neck.

“Hey, I didn’t think they were ever going to let you out.” You muttered into the crook of his neck

He squeezed you back assuringly, rubbing at your back. “They like to drag ass over this stuff. You ready to go home?”

“Please.” You pulled back to let him go and Curtis held you against him a second longer before letting you ease off the seat, pulling himself back up to a stand. In the parking lot, you said goodbye to Edgar and Yona, who were quick to promise to call later to reschedule the missed triple date at the bar but you could tell they just wanted to head home. Neither had gotten a lot of sleep that night. Curtis was relieved to see his truck already there.

“Grey?”

“Yeah, he said he had a spare to your house and grabbed your extra keys.” You dug them from your purse to hand over to Curtis.

Getting in, the drive back to the house was quiet. But not the typical comfortable kind that happened between you two, more like you had something on your mind and it was worrying you, causing unspoken tension. “Did you stay there all night Honey?”

“Hmm?” You turned back towards him just as he was pulling into the driveway, next to your car. “Oh yeah, Yona was set on staying till she at least saw Edgar, and good luck getting me to leave after what happened. Every time we asked to see either of you, they had an excuse not to let us talk to you.” You paused as if collecting your thoughts. “They seemed to not like you. At all.”

“Mmhh, yeah,” Curtis said, he wasn’t ready to elaborate and you let it die there for now. Instead, you both made your way into the house, yawning loudly as you looked at the time.

“Good morning, about the time I typically wake up.” You chuckle and Curtis rubbed at his face, making himself go cross-eyed a bit.

“How about today we nap in bed instead, take a real lazy day?”

“I could really go for that.” You shrugged out of your jacket and hung it up, offering to take his.

“Deal, you wanna go get comfy upstairs and I will be up with some snacks?” Curtis offered.

“I can make you something if you want?” You hesitated at the foot of the stairs, thinking out loud. “I have those veggies diced up and you got eggs, I saw them in there yesterday. I could make us western omelets.”

Curtis shook his head, directing you back towards the stairs. “Nope, I got it. Go shower if you want and get comfy… wear that tee of mine I love so much?”

You went up a few steps, twisting to face him while still inching up the steps, grinning. “That and what else?”

“Absolutely fucking nothing.” He gave a feral grin, even as tired as he was and you laughed while finishing going up the stairs. Curtis heard the house's old pipes groan, signaling you started your shower. It gave him plenty of time to get some of the quick easy snacks he had in the house. Grabbing some of Sophia’s granola bars, a bag of your favorite goldfish, his stash of Oreo cookies, and some other randoms he found in the pantry. Then he was sure to make you a cup of your favorite tea with generous dollops of honey to sweeten it to your liking. He took a quick sip, making sure it was how you liked it.

Curtis finally made it upstairs where his bed never looked so good. Especially with a few of your clothes littered on it from where you undressed to shower. Dropping the snacks at the foot of the bed, he heard you turn the water off, steam flowing from out of the shower. Yanking off his shirt and pants, he walked into the bathroom in his boxers, preparing the tub for himself while you stood at the mirror doing a few last-minute things.

“There’s a cup of tea on your nightstand Honey.” He brushed a kiss to your still bare shoulder, the towel firmly wrapped around you while you rubbed some of your lotion on your face and down your neck.

“Thanks Curtis, water should be plenty hot. I was quick.” You smiled at him in the mirror while he shed the last of his clothes and slipped in behind the curtain.

You finished what you were doing, sure to clean the sink off while listening to the water splash around Curtis, now and then the curtain would move with his movements. You retreated from the bathroom before he finished, crawling up on the bed and letting yourself lean back into the pillows.

There was a lot to take in over the past several hours. Something you hadn’t let yourself ponder on till now when it was all said and done. You hated the doubt that crept in, the way Curtis had gone after all those men without any hesitation or fear, then Grey making mention that Curtis had been in trouble before. It wasn’t that you thought of Curtis as being violent, not towards you in the least and you had only heard him lose his temper with Edgar at Halloween. But Jake was always such a nice guy until he wasn’t and you never would have guessed that from him. You knew him your whole life, your father and his were partners in their consultation firm.

But then one day it started and you always allowed it to continue while lying to yourself to be okay with it. As much as you loved Curtis, more than you ever felt for Jake, you couldn’t be that way with someone again.

Curtis came back out, this time dressed in his plaid pajama bottoms and a faded old tee, ready to crawl into bed next to you. You took an appreciative sip of the tea that he made, letting the warm liquid calm you down a bit more while Curtis slipped into the bed next to you, making a grab for the snacks he had brought up and deposited them on the nightstand, grabbing a couple of oreo cookies and flipping one into his mouth.

“Thank you for coming to get me at the station Honey.” He finally said, breaking the silence in the room while offering you his other cookie.

You took it, nibbling on it a second before setting everything in your hands aside. “As I said, after seeing the way those officers were acting, I wasn’t about to leave you there.”

“They dropped the charges surprisingly,” Curtis admitted while leaning back against the pillows, his hand coming up to your back and tracing patterns in it while he started to relax for the first time. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

You let yourself sink into the feeling of his fingers on you, making your body slowly loosen from his touch, you were soon easing back and curling up next to him, your hand sliding against his chest while he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side. “They had to drop them after Yona and I went down to fill out our reports against that group, Claude will be going in later today, she told me to do the same thing. Between us and Paulie pulling up his security videos, they weren't able to make anything solid stick. Keeping you overnight was just a way to hold you and Edgar for a while longer." You frowned with frustration.

Curtis tilted forward to press an affectionate kiss to your forehead, scooping you in closer to him.

"It should have never fucking happened. You, Yona, and Claude should be able to walk across a parking lot at any time."

You felt the tip of his fingers lift your chin so you looked up at him, the sheer concern in his expression, the way his eyes were a wide blue boring into you, you yet again felt foolish over your concern that this man would in any way hurt you. “Curtis…” You twisted to your hip to face him, letting there be a bit of space between you so you could comfortably look at him to talk. "Yes, I was scared at the moment, but I knew you were close.”

“Mmmh, They will probably just get a slap on the wrist and nothing further than that.” He practically growled and you let your hand raise to smooth the worried lines in his forehead.

“Unfortunately that is probably gonna be the case. I hope that they learned a lesson in what the word ‘No’ means though. You and Edgar left them quite a few reminders” You let your hand drop once his forehead smoothed out. “But Grey said that you were familiar with the cops picking you up?” You hesitated, not wanting to bring up his past like this, but you had to know.

Curtis nodded a bit to confirm. “I can’t say the local Duluth precinct and I are on the best of terms. Of course, this was many years ago, but bar fights weren’t an uncommon thing for me.

You stayed quiet, intent on letting him continue with whatever he wanted to share. “As a young man… I was angry? Lost and unsure of myself, my grandparents did an amazing job being my parents. But I was still mad at the world for having never gotten to have that time with my mom and dad, I never got to see Tyler grow into the man he should have been. I had so many what-ifs built in me. Lillian and Wilford tried to help me, but you know when you are young you miss what is right in front of you.”

“So all this anger, it turned into fighting?”

“It did, I would get into it with other people. Looking for it I guess would be the best way to put it. It was the only thing that made me feel good.” He glanced at you worriedly but you kept your features neutral. “I don’t know if I’m explaining it right, I was an angry young man. I’m glad you didn’t know me then.”

“Hey, we all have our shit, right?” You said with a gentle smile. “Keep going, what happened?”

“I hit rock bottom. Had to spend some time at a minimum security prison. Not long, but it was several months. My Gram came to visit me several times, and my grandfather did a couple of times. But it was easy to see how disappointed he was. I hated it, I was ashamed of how low I went with it. The judge released me and I went to Nam for a more permanent job.” His fingers flowed up and down your arm, making pleasured sensations settle in you, retaining that connection even while you two were separated a bit to face each other. “Sent me to training and I started from the bottom up. Grandpa was retired by then so I worked up to his position.”

“You must have wanted the change to work that hard Curtis.” You wiggled a bit closer. “Did all those feelings, the anger… they stop?”

“Um, I channeled them in a new way. Grey and I were friends during this time, he was always trying to get me to go with him to his uncle's gym, just beyond the school called Big Jon Boxing.

When I got out, I finally took him up on the offer. Big Jon taught me some boxing, tossed me in the ring to punch and kick out all those feelings.”

You half pushed up, leaning on an elbow. “You’re just sharing with me that you can box?”

Curtis laughed, shrugging a shoulder. “Yeah, pretty good at it too, not to brag.”

“Do you still go?” You eased down again, now back in his side, curling a leg through his.

“I haven’t in a while, not since last summer. Grey was telling me Big Jon was asking when I’m coming back.”

“So since you met me?” You huffed out, making Curtis chuckle again.

“Well, I also have some equipment down in the cellar for when I couldn’t go. But yeah… I haven’t felt the need to.”

You smiled a bit to yourself, it was hard not to feel a bit of pride that Curtis didn’t need such an outlet. Your hand slipped under his tee, tracing your fingertips on his belly, sinking into your thoughts. “Would you go back?”

“Of course, it is like another home, much like Paulie’s is. I just… haven’t. Actually, in light of what happened, would you like to go?”

“Me? To a gym?” You wrinkled your nose, the idea of it making you wildly self-conscious. Gym’s always felt like a nightmare, all those fit people and then there is you. You tried, in the past. You went to Jake’s gym using his membership. Always when he was at work, not that he ever said anything, but you could tell that he was embarrassed to see you struggling with the equipment.

“Yes you Honey. We can teach you some self-defense moves in case you ever feel unsafe or have to be alone.” His hand was assuring on your side, all while his belly flexed under your fingertips. You felt him grasp at the back of your thighs, easing you over him till you were straddling him, leaning against his chest till you pushed up to a sit, using your knees folded under you to keep from leaning too heavily against him. Underneath you he looked perfectly relaxed and content, waiting on you to sort through your doubts and fears about going to the gym. “You could knock Edgar out next time he pisses you off.” He smirked at you and you couldn’t help the little amused smile you gave at your friend's expense.

“So tempting, but…”

“But what Honey.” His hands slipped up the bare part of your thighs to grasp gently on your hips and ease you to relax against him. “Tell me.”

“It’s the gym, full of beautiful fit people.”

“Nah, this is a cool gym. It’s for everyone.” Curtis said. His hands flexed against your hips, making him smirk a bit up at you. “I could buy you all those hot leggings too. All the leggings.” His eyes glinted up at you wickedly, making you feel heat flush your face and down your chest, your heart race in excitement and apprehension.

“I have leggings already Curtis, you don’t have to buy me more.”

“I know and you are always fucking hot in them.” He slipped a hand up your back to lightly grasp the back of your neck, pulling you in close for his mouth to find yours, drawing you into a heated kiss as he set out to prove just what he felt when seeing you in those leggings. Being tired completely forgotten when he flipped you to your back and hovered over you, chaining kisses down your neck and working your shirt up while you did the same with his to toss it away for the rest of the day.

#life is short so make it sweet #curtis and honey #curtis x plus sized reader #curtis and plus sized reader #curtis everett and plus sized reader #curtis everett and reader #curtis everett and you #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett au #curtis everett fanfiction #chris evans characters #amber writes #sweater writes #tw police #tw fighting #tw drunk #tw harrassment

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kingdaddydaichi · 4 months

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☆ title: redefining (ch. 11) | ( ch. 10 ) ☆ ( ch. 12 - wip )

☆ pairing: cop!daichi sawamura x single mom!reader

☆ wc: 2.5k

☆ synopsis: four years after leaving your toxic ex, you find yourself a single mom to a 11-year-old boy named musubi, who harbors a lot of misdirected anger. you hear from his fifth grade teacher, mr. suga, more often than your own mother and a resulting friendship is born. meeting suga’s best friend wages a war between your head and your heart - one that challenges everything you think you know about love and police officers. neither are to be trusted. both have left you lost and scared when you needed them the most. so, when a cop comes knocking at love’s door, just how strong is your resolve to keep your heart under lock and key?

☆ warnings/notes: sfw. cop!daichi. mutual pining. angst. domestic disturbance. fear. idk like, the way daichi talks to subi might come across as patriarchal? but it's the way i feel like daichi would speak to him under the specific circumstances, how he knew he would get through to him. i am deeply sorry for the massive real-life time gap between chapters //sob. but i'm committed to finishing this series. my love for daichi and this story is settled deep inside my bones. I'M BACK BITCHES /aff 🫶🏼

she's falling in love now losing control now fighting the truth trying to hide but i think it's alright, girl yeah i think it's alright, girl

losin control - russ

Life can be a rip-roaring bitch sometimes, y'know?

The first week or so after your fallout with Daichi had been relatively easy. The fact that you were still angry at him helped a lot more than you'd have liked to admit. The battle to get him off your mind was constant, but all you had to do was remember the way his eyebrows angled inward when he yelled at you. You’d never seen him like that before and it had scared you, triggering your fight or flight response on top of the heart-wrenching pain of seeing him being a little too friendly with his ex.

But what you kept pushing down with all of your might was the fact that daichi was right. He had called you on everything you’d worked so hard to hide from him. The fact that he’d seen you so clearly scared you more than the look in his eyes when he raised his voice at you. He had been angry, yes. But a lot of hurt had weaved its way into his words as well.

Halfway through the second week, however, things started to go downhill. You found yourself reaching for your phone a couple of times to tell Daichi about something ridiculous or funny that had happened only for your fingers to stop short as your heart sank.

Oh. right. I'm not supposed to do that anymore.

You’d even tried venting to Suga about Daichi in hopes that he would validate you, but he wasn’t as sympathetic towards your plight as you would’ve liked: “But isn’t this what you wanted?” he'd said. “You’ve been saying that whatever the hell was going on between you two had an expiration date…” “You’re right. It’s probably better this way so you and Daichi can each find the people you wanna be with...” That last one had really dug deep - the thought of Daichi with anyone else made your heart splinter and your stomach wretch. But you had swallowed your heartache down with the lump in your throat and nodded with a meek “Yeah, exactly,” knowing deep in your bones that you didn’t mean a word of it. Suga knew it too.

The week after that was the week from hell. Crying in bed every night because you missed Daichi so much was made that much worse by your shitty week. Life could’ve just given you a normal week but NOPE. Every single day, multiple times a day, you’d pick up your phone to send him an angry text about your boss or the rude ass lady at the grocery store. Or the fact that some really, really important notarized legal documents got lost in the mail. Three trips to UPS, two trips to the post office, and $91.00 later the paperwork finally reached its intended destination via next day air. You wanted to ask him to arrest the incompetent twat who put your mailer on the wrong truck in the first place and then smile at his reaction. To top it all off, your son’s behavior had hit an all-time low. You’d been hoping that it would’ve improved after the disciplinary hearing, which Subi had attended as well but, if anything, his behavior at home had gotten worse too.

You wanted to call Daichi. You wanted him to come over and hold you as you curled into a ball against his chest. To feel his hands in your hair and his lips on your forehead telling you that ‘everything’s gonna be okay’. Because you’d believe it If Daichi was the one saying it. He’d make sure of it. But you couldn’t do any of those things and it made you cry. Like getting kicked when you’re already down.

Daichi didn’t have it much better.

He’d called and apologized to Yui, who had called him a “fucking asshole”. There was the drunk driver who had puked on him while doing his field sobriety test (he probably deserved that, he’d guessed). Then there was the day he got stuck directing traffic in a torrential downpour. The police-issued waterproof ponchos had done nothing for his wet socks and the sloshing in his shoes.

There were also all the little annoying things that kept happening to him - his washing machine quit working (mid-cycle, no less), he got a flat tire (in a different torrential downpour), he stubbed his toe one morning while getting out of bed (talk about a rude awakening) - nothing too serious but just enough to piss him off.

The worst of it was finding out his mom had to be hospitalized for Covid. She had to be on oxygen, but the prognosis was good. She was expected to be okay and eventually make a full recovery, but of course it made him worry about her nonetheless.

And through every bit of it, you were on his mind. He missed you something fierce. But some of the things you’d said still weighed on his heart:

“...how cruel can you be?” “You’re not even my type.” “Just go back in there and fuck your ex-girlfriend!”

That last one had hurt the most. Did you really think that lowly of him to think he’d do that to you?

To be fair, he also remembered some of the things he’d said to you:

“Would you have liked it better if i’d introduced you as my fuck buddy…?” “What? Not toxic enough for ya?” “...you don’t have to be a jealous girlfriend about it…!”

They made him cringe every time he remembered. Sometimes the words you had thrown at each other kept him up at night.

Tonight was one of those nights…

Daichi was reading in bed, trying to take his mind off of you when his phone buzzed on his nightstand. Thinking it must be work-related at this time of night, he picked it up to see who was calling. When he saw your name on the screen, his heart wanted to claw its way out of his chest. What could you possibly want? Best case scenario was you wanted to apologize, but that could wait until tomorrow. If you didn’t want him to make you a priority anymore, he was going to honor that. Worst case scenario was you were reaching out to him for another booty call, and he was done with that.

Either way, he let your call go to voicemail, but just as he was about to put his phone back down, your text came through as three little numbers:

911

Daichi sat bolt upright and immediately tapped the call button. Halfway through the first ring, you answered. “Daichi?” You were crying and he could hear a young man’s voice yelling in the background.

He sat forward in his seat, wide brown eyes darting this way and that. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Subi,” you cried. There was a loud bang accompanied by a muffled sob from you. “He threatened to hurt me and now he’s throwing things…”

Before you could say anything else, daichi was on his feet, throwing on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before heading for his front door. “You at home?”

“Y-yes.” you were crying so hard you were wheezing. “Daichi, please…please help?”

“I’m on my way.” His voice was remarkably low and stern and comforting as he told you to go inside your bedroom, lock the door, and stay there. He made sure you didn’t have any injuries and stayed on the phone with you for the 10 mins it took for him to get there. It normally took twice that long to drive from his place to yours, but he had his blue lights on, going well over the speed limit.

“Daichi, I’m so scared,” you sobbed.

“I’m almost there, (y/n). Just five more minutes. Come on, deep breaths.” He talked you down enough that you weren’t crying as hard. “Alright, I’m here. Do you know if he’s still in the house?”

“Yeah, I can hear him. But the front door is locked.”

“Do you feel safe enough to come out of your room and open it?”

You’d heard Subi’s voice getting further away and the slamming of his bedroom door. “Yeah, I think so.”

You slowly came out of your room and hurried to the front door, nearly collapsing in Daichi’s arms when you swung it open. He hugged you and told you everything was okay. He walked inside slowly, noticing some broken glass and other, obviously thrown, objects on the floor, and called your son’s name. Your pre-teen came out of his bedroom to find a man he didn’t recognize standing in the living room.

“Who’re you?” he asked.

“I’m Daichi, a friend of your mom’s. You must be Musubi.”

Musubi narrowed his eyes at him and shrugged in response.

“What’s been going on, man?”

Your son crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe it’s none of your business.”

Daichi’s dark brown eyes remained steady on him. “Well, seeing as how your mom is my friend and she’s scared and crying, I’d say it is my business.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Whatever. It’s not that big of a deal-“

“Wrong again. Your mom doesn’t feel safe in her own home. That’s a problem. It’s just the two of you living here, right?”

Subi shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“Then that makes you man of the house, doesn’t it?”

Your son’s eyes met Daichi’s for the first time since he first spoke to him. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And as the man of the house, don’t you think it’s your job to protect everyone in it, including your mom?”

The boy didn’t respond, but his facial muscles relaxed as he maintained eye contact with Daichi. He had his undivided attention now. He was speaking to him man to man and your son was listening intently.

“It’s a big responsibility to be in your position,” Daichi went on, nodding towards you. “Your mother and her safety are under your watch. She doesn’t feel safe with you when you’re the one who’s supposed to be protecting her.” The off-duty police officer's voice remained calm and even as he tilted his head. “So tell me, Musubi: do you really think you’re qualified to be man of the house?”

You watched and listened with awe as Daichi took command over the situation, showing Subi what it means to be in full control. He leveled with your son while making him feel validated and understood. Rather than telling Subi how he should talk to you, Daichi did far more by showing him what it means to be a good man; he was teaching Subi how to treat others with respect in the way he spoke to him - by demonstrating to him that you get respect from others by being respectable.

Your son’s gaze fell under the weight of Daichi’s words. His beliefs about what it means to be a “man” had just been challenged and shaken to the core. He thought it meant being loud and aggressive, lording over others, calling the shots and expecting others to submit to him - no doubt all the tactics he’d learned from watching his father.

“You think you’re in control here? Because, from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it.” The boy’s gaze followed Daichi’s as he looked around at the broken items in the room before looking over at you, still trembling and sniffling. “If you lose control, it means you don’t have it, Musubi. It’s that simple. Do we have an understanding?”

The boy’s eyes locked with Daichi’s again and he nodded.

“Good man. Now,” Daichi said with quiet authority, “Clean up the mess you made.” It wasn’t a request.

“Yes, sir,” Subi murmured as he started picking up the pieces.

You couldn’t believe the words that just came out of your son’s mouth. Yes, sir? You looked up at Daichi - The Musubi Whisperer - wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Never even raised his voice and had him under his complete command.

“(Y/n), can I talk to you for a minute in the kitchen?” Daichi said it just loudly enough that your son could hear how his mother should be talked to - by asking, not demanding.

“Of course.” You followed Daichi until your son was out of earshot, then whispered, “How the fuck did you just do that?”

Daichi shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of experience. Oldest of 5 kids. Team captain. Cop.” You smiled and nodded, wiping the last of your tears away. He put a tentative hand on your shoulder. “You okay, (y/n)?”

“I think so,” you sniffed, wiping your freshest tear away with your shirt sleeve. “I’m so sorry to have troubled you, but you were the first person i thought of-”

Daichi shook his head and pulled you into his arms. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad you called me.”

Whether it was the catharsis from the highly charged situation or your need to feel Daichi close was irrelevant when you fastened yourself to him. Before you could think, your arms were around his waist and your head tucked against his chest.

“Thank you,” you said, your shaky voice muffled by the warmth and weight of Daichi’s arms wrapping tightly around you.

“If it happens again, call me again. If you need anything at all, call me,” he said, rubbing your back. This was the Daichi you’d known all along and fucking hell, you missed him.

You tightened your hold around his waist. You were so immensely relieved to hear him say that. Maybe he still wanted to be the one you called. Just maybe he wanted to be the one you needed.

“I will,” you said, nodding against his chest.

Before he left that night, he shook Subi's hand. “Take care of your mom.”

“Yes, sir.” Holy hell, there it was again. Daichi hadn’t even told him to call him sir. Leastways, not with words. How did he do that?

“Do I have your word?” Daichi asked, squeezing Subi’s hand. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright, I’ll stop by in a couple days to see how things are going," he looked at you, "...if that's okay."

Your son’s lips pursed as he fought back a smile as he watched you nod. “Okay.”

After Daichi left, Subi said, “You should find a guy like him, Mom.”

Your mouth dropped open, your heart skipping a million beats. Your son had no idea who Daichi was, what he did for a living, or the highly complicated nature of your relationship with him. Finally, you smiled and said, “Yeah? He’s a good guy, huh?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “He’s alright.”

Your son turned to you with his shoulders slumped and tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

Your body shook with tears as you nodded against his shoulder. “I know, baby. I love you so much.”

Subi squeezed you tighter as he told you he loved you too.

ch. 10 ☆ ch. 12 (wip)

series mlist | daichi mlist

☆ taglist: @chaoskrakenuwu ☆ @ceo-of-daichi ☆ @honeybunny-sawamura ☆ @yuujispinkhair ☆ @luvkun4 ☆ @briokayama ☆ @mrs-sawamura ☆ @heroesfan101 ☆ @millenialfanfictionaddiction ☆ @citrustsuki ☆ @darthferbert ☆ @crystal-lilac ☆ @hannas16 ☆ @cookiesandmilksx ☆ @strawberrystepmom ☆ @anejuuuuoy ☆ @maexc ☆ @little-ms-awkward ☆ @patheticliesblog ☆ @strawbmarma ☆ @lomons ☆ @victorianhorrors @gazzybums ++ ask/dm/comment if you wanna be added to or removed from a taglist

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violetsandshrikes · 2 years

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Saw this thread and honestly, what a horrific outcome. Thread here and original article here. Her name was Connie Dadkhah.

#please where you can: try to build community connections and watch out for each other #tw #tw stalking #tw murder #tw homicide #ask 2 tag #tw police #connie dadkhah #san diego

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incorrectbatfam · 3 months

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Cops are pig furries

#meme #shitpost #text post #acab #tw police #furry

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hussyknee · 2 years

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Sri Lankan protestors are built different. 😂😂😂

[Video description: Facebook video showing a scene of complete chaos and screaming, suffused in clouds of tear gas. A young protestor in shorts with a backpack picks a smoking tear gas cannister off the ground and strides with it along a wall of iron bars, holding out the billowing stream of gas at the cops assembled on the other side. Someone behind the camera eggs him on in Sinhala. The kid places the emptied cannister under a hedge behind a cop in riot gear and runs. The camera pans back to see the canninister thrown high into the air, sailing into a clump of trees in the park beyond./VD]

(PSA: do NOT pick up tear gas cannisters, they are searing hot!)

#sri lanka economic crisis #sri lanka protests #sri lanka #gohomegota2022 #gohomeranil2022 #victory to the struggle!#අරගලයට ජය!#tw police #protests #police brutality #state violence #protesting #knee of huss

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earthmoonz · 22 days

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WIFEY. | EPISODE SEVEN (7.7)

start / previous / next

On the way home, the two drove in heavy silence while traffic mounted. Rain had resumed and Max’s anxious unease had given way to pained exhaustion. They retreated into their self, mind overrun with memories of their mother, and the bubble of grief they often swallowed was forming a lump in their throat.

Meanwhile, Lena was at a loss. She knew that nothing she could say would improve things. She was hesitant to cross the lines of a newly formed dynamic. She’d tried her best not to listen back at the house, but from what she did hear, it was clear Max loved their mother. Her death had been a great loss. The loss that Lena knew was different. Her father’s passing felt like a gift. She wondered if her brother’s disappearance was a curse.

Eventually, Max’s growling stomach broke the silence. They realised that aside from a croissant at breakfast and crisps from a petrol station on the way to Sandra’s, they hadn’t eaten today. Suddenly, all they could think about was food. Thankfully, Lena echoed their sentiment. The pub they found seemed like well earned mercy. Food fixed most things, with any luck it would provide a useful distraction.

(transcript below)

(MAX): Can we get something to eat?

(LENA): Course.

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anarchywoofwoof · 5 months

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it's been a while since i've done a particularly egregious ACAB post, so i guess it's about time. trigger warning for racist violence, death and police brutality.

on March 14th, 2023, in Hinds County, Mississippi - the most populous county in the State of Mississippi, an area i used to dispatch tow trucks to for a roadside emergency service company and know well - Bettersten Wade reported Dexter Wade, her 37-year-old son missing.

what Dexter's mother did not know at the time and would not know until an unacceptable and heart wrenching 172 days later is that 9 days prior, on March 5th, 2023, Dexter had been killed less than an hour after he’d left home, struck by a Jackson, Mississippi police vehicle as he attempted to cross a nearby interstate highway.

police knew Dexter's name, and Bettersten's, but did not contact her and the body went unclaimed for months in the county morgue.

the following October, she was directed to the Hinds County penal farm to meet a Sherriff's Deputy, who lead them into fucking woods, where her son was buried in a grave simply marked with the number "672"

now, after the police neglectfully took this man's life, failed to inform his family, and attempted to cover it up... it turns out that his wallet with his home address, a credit card and a health insurance card was in the front pocket of his jeans at the time of his death.

this is after the Hinds County coroner's office reported that they did not find identification on Dexter Wade's body, but found his name on a bottle of prescription pills that they used to ID him several days later. undoubtedly, this was to provide police ample time to cover up their tracks.

the Mayor of Jackon, MS, Chokwe Antar Lumumba (a self-described Progressive, Socialist and "political revolutionary") said last month that Wade was "without ID" and that police were unable to identify him.

this is about to get, somehow, more fucked up.

in addition to the disrespect shown already to Dexter Wade, his family and his memory, officials from the State of Mississippi exhumed his body on Monday without his family in attendance.

On Monday, authorities exhumed Wade's body following calls for an independent autopsy and funeral. But his family said officials failed to honor the agreed-upon time approved by a county attorney for exhuming the body. “Now, I ask, can I exhume my child and try to get some peace and try to get a state of mind,” Bettersten said. “Now y’all take that from me. I couldn’t even see him come out of the ground.” Civil rights and personal injury attorney Ben Crump told USA TODAY Wade's mother was notified last week by the attorney for the Hinds County Board the exhumation would be at 11:30 a.m. Monday. The family, along with their attorneys, members of the media and community advocates had planned to attend, but Crump said Wade’s body was exhumed at 8 a.m., hours before the scheduled time and without notice. “There is no excuse for the way this case has been handled. Every time Ms. Wade takes a step toward getting answers as to what happened to her son, Jackson officials bring her two steps back,” Crump said.

this is a heavy post. but as usual, the point here is: the institutions we currently in place throughout this country are corrupt, soulless and have no respect for you in life or death. the state and the police are corrupt and will kill you - intentionally or unintentionally - and then bury the evidence as deep as they possibly can. and the slime will insulate them from within. it's unacceptable. it cannot be reformed.

#us news #mississippi #dexter wade #black lives matter #civil rights #bork bork thoughts #united states #tw racism #tw police #tw death #acab #ftp #1312 #all cops are bastards #fuck the police

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little-peril-stories · 2 months

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The Queen of Lies: Trust and Treachery

Story Intro | Content Warnings | Mood Board | Vibey Song Lyrics | Ao3

Contents: police, lady whump (sort of, ish, not exactly but ????), guy whump, guns (drawn but not fired)

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 4100 || Approx reading time: 17 mins

Trust and Treachery

Teaser: “I’m serious. They’re still looking for her. Isn’t anyone going to talk about that? Or am I the only one who’s worried?”

The tales were told over endless cups of tea, as night fell and deepened to the blues and purples of midnight: Will’s time in prison, including details Bree herself had not heard and which made her eyes fill with tears; Bree’s side of the story, and how she had run away from Baden and taken Will with her; Colette’s summary of her time spent in a “safe place” about which she gave no further information; and Jamie Wardrew’s account of shutting down all Iustitia aecum operations and hiding out with the mostly silent other man, who was called Geoff. They had reunited with Colette once word got out that a thief had mysteriously escaped from prison—and posters with Will’s face on them appeared all over the city.

“You idiots should have skipped town fucking weeks ago,” Will said more than once, but there was no vehemence in his words. In fact, he was almost glowing. For most of the conversation, he twitched, bounced, and shifted in his seat, incapable of sitting still—except for his hand, which, despite how often he pulled it away to talk animatedly, always came back to rest upon Bree’s.

Now, his thumb stroked the back of her hand in a gentle, comforting rhythm. “You doing all right?” he murmured in her ear when the others were distracted.

Bree hummed a confirmation that she was, but exhaustion settled over her, brought on by the hours of talking and digging up of painful memories.

Oh—and the residual worries, of course, about when the inner circle of Iustitia aecum would come to their senses and throw her out. After all, what kind of woman would marry a man like Baden Hatchett? And how could she ever be trusted?

“You sure you’re okay?” Will asked.

“I’m just tired,” she told him, and he squeezed her hand.

“Don’t look so worried,” he said. “Everything’s okay.”

But alongside the joy of the reunion, a heaviness clung to the air, and when she glanced at the others, she found that they would not meet her gaze.

***

The next morning, waking in a bed that seemed emptier and colder than it should have, Bree found that Will was not beside her. She could hear him, though—one of several voices that drifted in from the kitchen, hushed and serious.

Frowning, she sat up, trying to catch what was being whispered into the stillness of the early morning.

“Gotta decide what to…”

“If we start up again…”

Bree slipped out of the bed, stifling a gasp at the bite of the cold floor against her bare feet. At the door, which Will had left ajar—had he snuck out, trying not to wake her?—she paused, nudging it slightly to let in more sound.

“I’m serious. They’re still looking for her. Isn’t anyone going to talk about that? Or am I the only one who’s worried?”

Dread, barbed and brutal, tore through Bree’s chest. They weren’t merely talking about IA business. They were talking about her.

“Colette,” Will’s voice said stiffly, his earlier elation gone, “she doesn’t want to go b—”

“Stop twisting my words. I didn’t say she wants to go back. But if they find her, they find us. You can’t tell me it didn’t cross your mind, too.”

“Okay, fine, it did, but—”

Bree closed her eyes. Was that the reason he’d held out so long before giving his name? Fear that her very presence would lead Baden right to him—and that she would buckle under pressure and reveal his name to the entire constabulary? Destroy everything he’d suffered so keenly to conceal with a single witless utterance?

“I mean,” Colette went on, “does anyone else really believe that mad constable’s just going to give up? He’s insane.”

Silence met her words.

“I didn’t think so.” How could she sound so fearless? How could her words be so calm, so steeped in cool, unshakeable logic? “I think you’d all better listen to me about this. Because I get it, we all want to get back to normal, get back to business, but as long as she’s around—”

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor made Bree jump. Furiously, Will snapped, “Don’t you even fucking think about saying what you’re about to say.”

“God, will you let me finish? I’m not arguing that we ditch her somewhere. She’s lovely. God knows how someone like her ended up with someone like him. And—just wait, for heaven’s sake! I’m not a monster. But we need a plan, and we need to make it now, because Hatchett wants you and her and as long as that’s true, we’re all in trouble.”

“She wouldn’t fuck us over like th—”

“Are you even listening? That’s not what I—”

Jamie’s quiet voice cut in. “Okay. Both of you. Shut up for a second.”

“Alpha, you know I’m right.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Will said, his voice acidic. Something warm flickered in Bree’s chest. Even with his brother speaking now, he was standing up for her. “We know. You’re always right. You’re so fucking smart—”

“Will!” Jamie snapped. “Shut the fuck up. Listen, for once.”

“You’re taking her side?”

“I’m not taking sides,” Jamie said tightly. “She—”

Too loudly—enough that if Bree hadn’t already been awake, she would have been jolted out of a dead sleep—Will said, “If you say she has to go, we’re about to have a big problem.”

“Just—”

“She has nowhere else to go,” he said. “Her parents are dead, too. And she can’t go back to Hatchett. She can’t. I’ll fucking die before I let that happen.”

Barely audible, some of the coldness faded from her voice, Colette said, “Oh, Will.”

Bree pressed her hands to her mouth, her heart trying to tear itself free of her very chest.

“And I—I—”

Neither his brother nor his friend interrupted, yet Will’s voice trailed off, the thought unfinished.

Geoff grunted, “You what?”

“I just can’t do that to her, all right?”

Did he mean it? Every word? He did, didn’t he? He wouldn’t let her go back to Baden, even if it meant going against the family he’d only just found again.

“Okay,” Jamie said. A mere breath after him, Colette said the same. “Okay. It’s not going to come to that. But let’s make a contingency plan, all right?”

Will mumbled, “The fuck is a contingency?”

“A just-in-case plan,” Colette said quietly.

“Just in case of what?”

Bree’s throat tightened again as Colette responded, “Just in case things go sideways. In case he catches up with her.” She paused. “With us.”

Jamie, from the sound of it, continued, but Bree silently pushed the door closed again and backed away on trembling legs. Her heart pounded as she went over the conversation—the argument—the inner circle of Iustitia aecum had just had about her.

For a few painful seconds, tears prickled behind her eyes. No matter where she went, she was never good enough. Breanna certainly hadn’t been. Now, it seemed that Bree was not, either—not for her own failings, but for the peril she brought in her wake.

No.

She swallowed her tears and took a breath. So Colette and Jamie were wary. Weren’t they right to be? But Colette had said it herself—it wasn’t Bree she didn’t trust. It was Baden.

But Will trusted her. Even if the others were reserving their confidence for now, he had faith in her. And he was willing to go against the others to prove it.

So, there was only one thing to do. She was going to have to prove it, too. That she belonged here. The she was one of them. That she deserved every ounce of that hard-won faith.

***

Of course, proving herself to IA was easier said than done. Bree opted not to mention what she had overheard, and Will didn’t bring it up, either. In this, she was almost relieved; he was spared the unenviable task of admitting that he’d been talking about her when he thought she couldn’t hear, and she was spared the indignity of facing everyone else’s mistrust head-on. No, she decided, it was much better to carry on as if she were none the wiser, and do what she could to weave herself into the delicate IA web.

Evenings, she determined promptly, provided ripe opportunity to find common ground with the others—particularly Colette and Jamie, who seemed to be the ones who had filled the bookshelves until they bowed in the middle. It was when the fire burned hottest and brightest; when everyone gathered without speaking of gangs or thievery; when she could read amid the soothing sound of crackling embers. The threadbare chairs did not provide nearly enough room for everyone to fit, but sitting on the floor with her book made Bree feel like a child again. Will, pressed against her side, didn’t seem to mind, either, and that made it all the sweeter.

Tonight, in a move that made everyone else’s jaws drop, Will was thumbing through Romeo and Juliet, which Bree had finished reading. He wasn’t reading it in earnest, however.

“The hell does this all mean?” he asked, cackling to himself. “You trying to tell me any of this makes sense to you?”

Bree blinked herself out of her current book and looked up to meet his amused gaze and unimpressed smirk. “It’s an old story. Once you know what to expect, it makes sense.”

But Will just shook his head, dictating lines he found perplexing or droll. “‘Such comfort as do lusty young men feel…’” He burst into a laugh and, reading on, found another that had him howling. “‘An open-arse, thou a poperin pear…’ What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You would find all the rude bits,” said Colette with a roll of her eyes.

“‘Some consequence,’” he went on, ignoring her save for a grin, “‘yet hanging in the stars, shall bitterly begin…’ Well, he sure sounds happy, doesn’t he? ‘Give me my Romeo, and when I shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars…’ No one else thinks that’s a weird thing to want? No? Just me? All right. ‘I have an ill-divining soul…’” He scoffed and pushed it away. “Why can’t he just write like a normal person?”

Shaking her head, Colette asked wryly, “That’s your expert literary opinion, is it?”

“Pretty sure you’d find most reasonable people would agree with me.”

“I rather think you’d find,” she shot back, “that most intelligent people would not.”

Will snatched a cushion right out from behind Jamie’s back, eliciting a surprised yelp, and threw it at her head, howling with laughter when it struck its target squarely.

And grunting a loud, “Ow!” when she hurled it back at him.

“Leave her alone,” Bree said, laughing, laying a hand on his arm to prevent him from launching another attack. “Maybe you should try reading it. Who knows? You might end up liking it.” She paused. “Though it is very sad.”

“Right. It’d take me a month just to get through the first chapter.”

“It has acts and scenes,” Bree said, pointing to the heading on the page. “Not chapters.”

“See? I’m already hopeless.” But he didn’t look hopeless or even terribly annoyed as he closed the book and peeked over at Bree’s. “Can’t believe you finished it in a few days. What are you reading now?”

Bree showed him the cover, and Colette, peering at it, too, piped up again. “Oh, you found my Ovid.” She heaved a long, dramatic sigh. “It’s nice to have another intellectual around for once.”

Biting her lip, Bree tried not to look too satisfied with this remark.

Will brandished the cushion again, prompting his brother to take it out of his hands and return it to its previous place, supporting his back. With his physical ammunition confiscated, Will merely said, “You’re fucking hilarious, Colette.”

“I just finished the story of Orpheus and Eurydice,” Bree said to her, talking over him.

Geoff and Jamie had been watching in silence, the former quite apathetic toward the topic of fine literature and the latter baffled that Will was engaging with it at all. Now, his long-suffering-elder-brother expression changed from faint amusement to outright hilarity when Will demanded with a groan, “What the hell kind of names are those, now?”

Rubbing his face, Jamie answered, “It’s a myth, Will. Ancient Greek.” He looked over at Bree almost apologetically. “I really tried, you know. He used to sneak away instead of going to school. You think this guy ever did anything he was told?”

Throwing his brother an obscene gesture, Will just asked, “What’s it about?”

Bree was about to answer, but Colette said, utterly straight-faced, “It’s about an idiot who can’t follow simple instructions.”

The group burst into gleeful laughter, celebrating how Will had set himself up for the joke. Bree took his hand.

“No, it isn’t,” she told him. “It’s about how love is sometimes stronger than reason.”

With another vulgar gesture at the others, Will leaned toward her and laid a kiss right on her lips. Bree blushed, but there were no huffs of disapproval, suspicious glares, or scandalized gasps. Instead, teasing whoops spread through the room.

“You give her one of those bite marks in front of me, and I’ll smother you in your sleep,” Colette said primly as the titters faded, and Jamie choked on his tea.

“Oh, shut up,” Will said, and even though even his face flooded as red as Bree’s, he nearly fell to the floor with laughter.

Maybe, Bree thought with a smile, winning over Iustitia aecum wouldn’t be as difficult as she thought.

***

“You know, I’ve never seen him care about any of Colette’s books before.”

Bree jumped and stifled a squeak at the sudden voice behind her. She’d offered to fetch some water from the well, and she’d been quietly humming to herself—certainly not expecting anyone to overhear her less-than-impressive musical talents—so the appearance of Will’s brother was not one she was prepared for.

“Sorry,” Jamie said, smiling a little ruefully upon seeing that she was startled. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“It’s all right.” She resisted the urge to press a hand against her pounding heart, figuring she already seemed jumpy enough to his eyes—jumpy, silly, and in over her head. “I didn’t hear you walking up.”

Jamie’s laugh, to her ears, was sardonic and abrupt—almost uncomfortable. “Well. We’ve had some practice in being stealthy over the years.” He nodded at her arm, free of bandages now but still marred by an unsightly scab she suspected might leave a scar. “You need some help?”

“Did Will send you?” she asked charily.

“No, actually.” He took the full bucket from her hand and replaced it with the empty one he had brought with him. “We can share the job. I’ll carry two back, you carry one.”

“Thank you,” she said, uncertain of where to go from there as she filled the last bucket. Was he going to be the one to confront her? Bring up Colette’s fears? Demand proof of her loyalty to the Iustitia aecum creed?

“Will didn’t send me after you,” Jamie said. “I wanted to say…” A strange look crossed his face—a happy one, but mixed with sadness, too, and perhaps even a touch of bemusement. “I’ve never heard Will…I don’t know, ask questions like that before. About books, I mean. Like he actually cared.”

A warm glow blossomed in Bree’s chest. “Really?”

“Definitely not.” He leaned against the side of the well, eyes fixed on the cloudy sky. “You know, I was… When we didn’t know what had happened to him, all I could do was hope we’d find him again. And I knew if we did, he might be different.” He laughed. “I didn’t think that this was the kind of different we’d be getting.”

Bree’s eyes burned with uninvited but admittedly gratified—and somewhat triumphant—tears. “Is that…” She swallowed. “That’s a good thing, right?”

He glanced at her now, seeming to notice the shine in her eyes, though he did not mention it. “I think so.”

Bree turned her face away for a moment to blink away the sting.

“You look familiar.”

Almost automatically, she said, “Well, maybe you saw me about town with Baden,” although now that he mentioned it, there was something about his face, hailing from a time long ago—more than just his striking resemblance to Will.

He clenched his jaw. “I can tell you for sure that I have never once been close enough to that fucker at any moment to see your face that well.” The flat hatred in his voice made a shiver run down her spine.

“Um…” Eager to move on from that thought, Bree said, “Perhaps before that? School, maybe?”

But he shook his head—the age difference was a bit too big, they determined, and he had likely already been working by the time she was in the schoolhouse, too poor for a governess.

“My maiden name is Cooper,” she said, thinking back and racking her brain for the answer, and as his expression changed to astonishment, the image struck her, too: a quiet boy with threadbare clothes, wind-chapped cheeks, and tired eyes—a boy she’d never seen again after a fateful winter’s day.

Or so she’d thought.

“James,” she gasped at the same time he said, “Cooper.”

“You worked for us!”

“Your dad’s a huge prick.”

Well, there was no denying that. “He was. He’s dead now.” She gazed at the man in front of her. Was it really him? The boy from that day?

The day her father had turned out all the servants, every single one—and one boy had fought back.

She hadn’t thought of him in years. It was painful to remember, those early days of her father’s broken business, his rage, his humiliation. That day in particular was one she preferred not to recall. All those people, thrown out in the bitter winter, hopeless and weeping and cold...

But a boy called James had tried so hard to stand up for them, shouting and railing, demanding some semblance of justice for the servants who were losing their livelihoods. As he always had, to everything and everyone, Silas Cooper had responded with violence—beat him and hurled him out, right into a snowdrift.

“He was horrible to you,” she whispered. “I’m—I’m so sorry—”

“You ran out,” he said, and she nodded. Bree had raced outside, determined to stay her father’s hand, and wound up with a handprint on her cheek. “I remember that. You…” He paused. “Thanks.”

Reeling at the revelation that her story and Will’s had been threaded together for so much longer than either of them had known, she pushed up her sleeves, close to sweating from exertion and awe. “I…I can’t believe it.”

“No,” Jamie said, equally stunned. “It’s a damn small world.”

They stared at one another a few moments more, Bree fitting his careworn face over the time-misted features of a sixteen-year-old boy with fire in his eyes—the same fire she had seen blazing in Will’s so many times before.

Suddenly, those eyes widened.

“Breanna?”

It took Bree a moment to realize that it was not Jamie calling to her—nor would that be the name he would use even if he was.

Gasping, Bree spun around, letting the bucket slip from her hands and spilling frigid water over her boots.

“Curt,” she whispered. The wonder of the moment, blazing hot and beautiful, vanished; every ounce of it sucked away, leaving nothing behind but cold, scouring dread.

He flew forward, so fast she only managed a panicked step backwards before he reached her. “It’s you.” Hands on her arms, pinching tightly. Eyes wide. Voice rasping. “God, Breanna—” Grip tight. Too tight. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Please let go,” she said, half-dizzy. Frantic thoughts spilled through her mind, melting into the noisy, discordant symphony of Curt’s voice, rapid hoofbeats, and distant thunder. No. This can’t be. “I’m…”

But he was talking, clinging tight, talking, talking, talking, gesturing to the officers behind him. “Quick! Go get…” Not happening. This couldn’t be real. But he was holding her hand, lifting it, examining the scab on her arm. “Breanna, what happened to you?”

“Nothing!” He can’t be here. She tried to wrench herself free. She had to get free. Where was he sending that other constable? “Curt, you’re hurting me.”

Where’s Will?

What if—

“Don’t move!”

Bree froze her struggles, but the order was not for her.

“Who are you?” Curt demanded, his eyes on Jamie. “Breanna, is he with—is he with them? Is he keeping you here against your will?”

“No!” Bree tried again to pull away. Still, he wouldn’t let go. Why wouldn’t he let her go? “Curt, leave him. Please. He didn’t—”

“You’re hurt.” Curt’s voice was dark, his gaze flicking between her arm and Jamie’s frozen form. “That miserable bastard hurt you. The one who got out.”

“No,” she said. “Listen, please, Curt, he didn’t. He didn’t. Let me go, and—and—leave him, Curt, please. Please—”

But Curt was only half-listening, it seemed; he was no longer even looking at her, and when he spoke, he merely repeated, “He didn’t let you go and leave.” With his gaze trained on Jamie’s, he stared, slow recognition leaching into his face. Realizing he had seen those features before. Realizing who else that ruddy hair and those strangely hued eyes belonged to.

Forming his own twisted narrative from the face he saw before him and the cry for help he thought he’d heard.

He cursed softly, and Bree cried his name, desperate for him to look anywhere but at Jamie’s face.

“What did they do to you?” he hissed.

“Nothing!”

“You’re lying to me,” said Curt furiously. “Again. After everything. Aren’t you? That bastard is here somewhere. I know he is. Who is that—his bloody twin?” Finally, he looked back at her. “Where is he?”

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look, don’t…

If she looked back at the townhouse, if she gave away the headquarters of Iustitia aecum, then it was all over—when it had barely even begun.

Don’t look back.

But she did.

She did, just in time to see a figure with red-brown hair fling open the door and start to run before a pair of brawny arms grabbed hold and yanked him out of sight.

Two furiously screamed names escaped before Will’s voice faded into strangled silence.

“Bree! Jamie! N—”

“That way,” Curt said, following her gaze. Following Will’s cry. One of his fellow constables hastened toward the townhouse, boots clicking maddeningly along the street.

And then he jerked his head toward Jamie and said, “Arrest him.”

Something shattered.

Perhaps it was the sound of Will’s voice being cut off. Perhaps it was the sight of that constable bolting toward the townhouse, all because her treacherous eyes could not do as they were told. Perhaps it was the cold fury in Curtis Lenton’s voice. Perhaps it was the way Jamie Wardrew did not move a muscle.

“No!” She thrashed against Curt’s grasp, and in his shock, he let go. “Curt, for the love of god, don’t do this, please!”

She made it three steps away from him before he captured her again.

“Why are you fighting me?” he asked as she pounded her fists against him. “Breanna—please! I’m here to help you! I’m going to get you away from these people!”

Tears, heavier and hotter and more painful than any she had ever shed in her life, blurred her vision. Her limbs trembled and, after a moment, gave out, for Curt did not listen. And he did not let go.

“Hey!”

All the officers froze.

“There’s no one there,” Jamie said. His words were calm. He had not run, and he still did not, even as the third officer approached him with his revolver drawn. But his arms, held in the air, trembled.

For one of them had the sleeve pulled up—baring the Iustitia aecum sigil for the constables to see.

“You’re too late,” Jamie said. “They’re already gone. You won’t find anyone else.”

Lies, Bree thought dizzily. A distraction to confuse them? Slow them down?

“Who are you?” Curt snarled again. “Where is the thief who escaped?” To the one he’d sent to the townhouse, he repeated the order to go, and the man obeyed.

“Forget him. He’s gone.” Jamie looked away from Curt’s glare to stare into the barrel of the other constable’s gun. His gaze met Bree’s for only an instant when the man reached him and wrenched his hands behind his back. “I’m the one who’s in charge of Iustitia aecum. I’m the one you want.”

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