#yeah I lashed out sometimes but I was barely 14. I needed help. i needed love. and I got ignored. for days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kooktrash · 3 years

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14 and jk pls

okay bestie, 14: sleepover and decide to play t or d BUT WITH A TWIST. I got inspo from the CUT game Truth Or Drink, but anyways. hope you like it. omg I’m scared

summary: you’ve been friends with Jungkook for months now, a severe thunderstorm and a drinking game blurs the lines between friendship and more.

warning(s): mature language, college friends, drinking, jungkook is a bit flirty, some of the questions are dirty, implied smut, friends with feeling. Plot with little porn.

truth or drink | jeon jungkook

- “The weather app sucks ass,” he huffed, staring out the window into the thunderstorm waiting for him outside. His eyes shifted down to the app, which changed from a warm night to showcasing clouds of gray and thunder on his screen.

“Severe Thunder Storm warning, if you are from any of the following districts, blah blah blah, remain sheltered from the time being until 6:45am the following day,” you read the weather alert out loud. Jungkook looked back at you, “Um what? I live clear across town, how the hell am I gonna get through that?”

It was true. Your dear friend lived far from your place, and the original plan for the two of you tonight was to study for your Psych exam and then go out for drinks with your friends. It had already been a struggle trying to get him to study, but now he was in an even worse mood because you weren’t going to be able to go out drinking. “Just sleepover crybaby,” you rolled your eyes making yourself comfortable on your couch, “Let’s drink or something.”

“Just us two?” He gnawed on his bottom lip nervously stepping away from the window and looking down at you, “Won’t it be boring?”

“Jieun’s got some drinking games here somewhere, check the media console,” you instructed him, stretching lazily as you pushed yourself up again, “I’ll go find something to drink for us. I think we still have some bottles of Soju laying around.”

“Truth or Drink, what the fuck is that?” Jungkook asked, scooting next to you on the coffee table as he held a little white box. Upon opening it he was met with four different card deck boxes, he read them carefully, “Which one should we do?”

He read the box, Last Call, eyes skimming the quick summary on the back, “Warning, do not play these questions unless it’s very late and you’ve got nothing to lose. Let’s play this one. Wait but it says three or more people.”

You poured Soju into two small glasses, “Yeah it’s to help find winners because the dealer has to choose between two answers. But let’s just play it a different way, there’s usually two questions on a card, we choose the best one, ask the other person and if they can’t answer they drink. And then we can ask the second question if we want to.”

“I need a beginner’s drink real quick,” he chugged down the liquor set in front of them, urging you to do the same, “I want to go first. I just have to pick a card from the pile and ask you?”

You nodded, setting two small piles on the table and waiting for him to decide which one he wants to ask. His eyes widened, “Oh fuck, these questions are heavy. First one and it’s already a lot. Um anyways,” he shook his head as if giving himself motivation, “Does our relationship bring out the best in you? In me? If not, why?”

You thought about it for a moment, “I think, we bring out the best in each other. You’re my best friend and you make me laugh easily and always make me feel comfortable and not a lot of people make me feel that way. I do think I am a better person because of our friendship.”

He wiped at his eye, pretending to shed a tear, “That was beautiful. Okay hurry up, ask me something.” He set the card to the side, waiting patiently for you to choose one. You laughed reading the question, “Who is in control of our relationship?”

“Fuck you, you know you are,” Jungkook huffed crossing his arms in front of him, “Everybody calls me your little puppy. I have separation anxiety it is not my fault.” The two of you chuckled, you watched him reach into the deck again, brows arching as he read, “What am I the most ignorant about?”

You debated answering. There were a few things your friend was ignorant about but you weren’t sure how to say it. In reality the two of you had barely been friends for a little over a year and though you hung out all the time you weren’t sure you were ready to have any deeper conversations. You reached for your drink, taking a drink swiftly ignoring the way his jaw dropped to the floor, “Don’t play with me, answer.”

“I can’t,” you shrugged, “I already took a drink. It’s Truth or Drink, not Truth and Drink.” He leaned forward a little, pout evident on his face, “Please. Please just answer this one. This is the only one I’ll ask you to do.”

“Fine!” You groaned throwing yourself back onto the pillow you set behind you, “I think you can be ignorant when it comes to your looks.” His brows furrowed, turning toward you, tempted to lay down as well. “I mean,” you thought for a moment, “Everyone knows you’re an attractive guy, except you. You’re always complaining about being single or lonely. And I know a ton of girls who’d kill to go on a date with you.”

“Wait,” he shook his head trying to process the information, “You think I’m attractive?” You rolled your eyes, sitting back up with a sigh, “That wasn’t part of the question. My turn.”

You sighed, reading the question out loud, “Do I often seem like I’m being fake?”

He thought for a moment, “Yes. Sometimes I feel like, you don’t really want to be friends with me, or that I annoy you and you just don’t know how to tell me to leave you alone. Or that you just keep me around because you’re bored.”

“Aw,” you frowned, “Oh my god, Kook I’m sorry I make you feel that way. I promise our friendship is 100% real and I am not being fake about it at all.” He smiled widely looking over to the other decks, picking the red one up, “Extra Dirty, let’s play it.”

“No,” you groaned as he changed the mood in the room rather quickly with his distracted mind. He ignored you reading the summary, “Sex, drugs, and rock n roll. All the questions your dark subconscious wants to ask your friends. Yeah let’s play it, the other deck was getting too emotional, can we do this one instead?”

“Fine but if it’s anything too weird I’m just drinking,” you told him. He nodded understandingly as he reached for a card, choking on his own spit for a minute before an evil smile came to his face, “What’s something you wish your ex would have done sexually, but didn’t?”

Fuck. Of course he’d be smiling at this question. Jungkook absolutely hated your ex boyfriend, Hobi. He thought he was rude and sexist and you had to agree just a little. You were friends with Hobi now but he wasn’t the best in a relationship. “Fuck,” you bit your lower lip in concentration, “I’ll tell you but this stays between you and I.”

He stuck his pinky finger out, locking it with yours as he waited eagerly for your answer. You weren’t going to pussy out of a question again so you were just going to say it. “He could never make me cum from eating me out, like never, not even with his fingers,” you hurriedly covered your face with your hands embarrassment filling you as it sat quietly on Jungkook’s end. The breakup was fairly recent so it was still a little awkward and the few hook ups you ve had since then sucked ass. “My turn,” you reached for a card taking his silence as a sign of awkwardness.

Huffing, you read carefully, “Do you find me physically attractive? What if I bat my eyelashes like this?” You did as the card said, batting your lashes at him with innocent and big eyes. He sat for a moment, “Most definitely, he said quickly grabbing another card, “You’re unbelievably attractive. Anyways.”

You could see his tongue push against his cheek, brows knitted together, “What’s your most complimented anatomical feature as described by your lovers?”

You chuckled lightly, “Realistically? Probably my chest.” You caught the way his eyes lingered down for a moment, face softening as he nodded his head. You giggled looking down at the card you just picked from the pile, “Are you loud during sex? Demonstrate with a dramatic interpretation of your signature sounds.”

“I’m drinking,” he mumbled but you shook your head laughing. “No no, you had me answer a question after I drank so I’m gonna do the same. I really want to hear what you got.” He groaned, covering his face in his hands, “Give me a minute, let me take this drink first.”

“Okay so,” he cleared his throat, “I wouldn’t say I’m loud, but I’m not quiet either. I think it also depends on what we’re doing. I’m louder when I’m getting my dick sucked, and it kinda sounds like, um,” he paused for a second. Breathing getting heavier as he began to show you, his mouth fell open, small whines leaving his lips followed by a couple grunts, “Fuck! Okay I’m done. Let me pick a damn card.”

You bursted out laughing as his ears turned a dark red. “It’s getting serious,” you giggled not noticing the way his embarrassed expression turned into a sly smirk, “Got your ass bestie, now it’s your turn. Give a passionate example of your dirty talk.”

You threw yourself back dramatically, debating on taking a drink or not. He smiled, “If you drink you’re a pussy.” “Fine hold on,” you say up scooting closer to him. Clearing your throat, you touched his shoulder lightly, bringing yourself closer to his ear too scared to say it loud so you chose to whisper instead. “You have really pretty hands Kook,” you started. He tensed underneath you for a moment, “I wouldn’t mind having them wrapped around my neck here and there.” Maybe it was the liquor already in your system but this wasn’t as embarrassing as you thought it’d be, and the goosebumps on his skin were making you want to say just a little bit more before it ended.

“And your fingers are so long and pretty,” you looked down at his tattooed hand, “I wonder how they’d feel all over me— Okay I’m done! My turn,” you grabbed a card, ignoring his silent stance. “If we were in a porn together, what category would it be under?”

He cleared his throat sitting straighter as he recollected himself, “Probably something along the lines of, ‘College Hunk Destroys Bratty Girl’ yeah that’d definitely be it.”

“You’re annoying,” you rolled your eyes as he went on for his turn, reading it loudly, “Are you a good kisser? If so, demonstrate.”

“It does not say that,” you muttered. You knew for a fact it didn’t. When Jieun got the game the two of you read every card in every deck and none of them were that suggestive. They said crazy things but nothing that involved intimate physical contact with someone else playing. “It does,” Jungkook said as matter-of-fact. “Okay then show me where it says that.”

“No.”

“Then you’re a liar,” you reached for the card but he held it away, “If you’re a bad kisser just say that Y/n.”

“I’m not!” You whined stretching forward for the card, hand pushing in his knee. He smiled at you, holding the card high as your faces were just a mere inches away from each other, “Well then demonstrate or take the L.” You sighed, hands using his legs to push yourself forward. He stared down at you, arm slowly lowering but his grip on the card was tight in case you tried snatching it out. You looked down at his parted and waiting lips, debating if you should actually go for it.

You were both a little tipsy, and you could always just blame your kiss on the alcohol. It wasn’t like you never thought about Jungkook in that way but you did your best to keep it as a simple friendship. Getting the courage, your back arched slightly as you leaned up to connect your lips with his softly. It was a soft kiss, his lips mets yours immediately going in for it. It wasn’t anything special but he was very obviously a good kisser. When you felt him dip in to further the kiss you attempted to pull away, his following lips going after you. Before you could catch your breath after your separation, his hand dropped the card, Both hands flying to your jaw and cupping your face in his hands as he pulled you in again.

You fell forward, hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. His large hands were soft, the pad of his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he pushed his tongue against you. You opened your mouth a little more allowing him access. Your could hear buzzing in the back, but as you tried to pull away, Jungkook only held you closer. You didn’t mind though, if you would’ve known kissing your best friend felt this good, you might’ve tried it sooner. His hands trailed down to your waist, pulling you swiftly onto his lap, as he leaned back against the legs of the couch. You pressed yourself closer deepening the kiss as your hands grinned onto his hair lightly. His hands brushed your sides and under your shirt. His cold hands on your bare stomach surprised you, the hand gripping a lock of hair pulled causing him to let out a breathy groan.

He pushed you down onto the floor, hovering above you as he wrapped your legs around his waist. His hands pushed your shirt up, kisses trailing down your jaw and neck, “If you don’t want this, tell me now because I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

“I want you,” you told him as he looked down at you with doe eyes. “I want you too.”

yoongi: i got locked out of my place. ur at y/n’s right? can I come over?

yoongi: hellooooo

yoongi: ANSWER YOUR PHONE

yoongi: if I catch a cold I’m suing fat

A/n OKAY LISTEN. I wanted to put smut in but I wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable with that so I chose not to. I hope you like it, and I can always do a Drabble with smut if that’s something you want. Thank you for requesting bestie, and DONT BE SHY

#kpop #jeon jungkook #Jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #bts drabble #kooktrash requests #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #min yoongi #park jimin #bts #bts smut #bts one shot #bts requests

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study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

Text

Seasons of PD: Season 3: Jay’s Missing (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)

As always, I don't own any quotes from the episode that happen to be in here!

Your age: 14

Jay's age: 28

Will's age: 30

"C'mon Jay," you muttered as you called him for the third time in an hour.

It was the one night a month where you and your brother would go out to dinner together and if there was a hockey game on, you'd finish watching it at his apartment. Then, he'd take you home. He was skeptical about doing it tonight since you had end-of-the-year exams next week, but you reassured him that you'd be fine; taking a break for a few hours never hurt anybody. And, you had all Saturday, Sunday, and Monday night after school to study since exams didn't start until Tuesday.

"You've reached Jay Halstead--" You quickly ended the call and began texting Ruzek. Hopefully, he'd cave and tell you what was going on.

But, when the read sign popped up seven minutes later, you knew something was up. If Jay was going to be late, he would've called you, or at least texted.

Since it was late May, the sun was out later than in the winter, which meant that it wouldn't be dark for another couple of hours. So, you grabbed a light sweatshirt and pulled it on, grabbed your phone and a few dollars and put them in your pocket, shouting a "bye Dad" on the way out...not that he cared what you did anyway.

You walked a few blocks to the El train stop, put your dollar in for your ticket, and hopped on. While you were on there, you were sure to have Ruzek's number pulled up on your phone and were ready to hit the call button in case something happened to you.

You looked at the map. The 21st District was just a few stops away. Soon, you'd know why Jay wasn't answering you. Hopefully, he was just out on a raid, handcuffing the bad guys.

***

"Kim," you said as you rushed into the district and saw the officer. "Do you know where my--"

You were cut off by the faint sound of a scream.

"Do I know where who is, Y/N?" she asked, completely ignoring what she had just heard.

"Jay, but that sounded like him screaming!"

You ran up the stairs to Intelligence, tugging on the gate even though you knew it wouldn't open without a member scanning their palm or Platt buzzing you up.

"Was that Jay? Is he there?" you yelled.

"Y/N, we can't let you up there right now," Kim explained.

"Why not? Jay told me we'd go out for dinner tonight and he always calls if he's gonna be late."

You looked up to see Ruzek coming towards the door.

"Would it kill you to answer a text?" you asked.

"Sorry, been busy."

"At least let me upstairs and then you can tell me where Jay is and I'll be out of your hair."

Ruzek sighed and allowed you to go up, Kim following you as well.

"Or Detective Halstead winds up as fertilizer in some cornfield in Indiana. We understand each other, Sergeant?"

"What'd he want?" Antonio asked, everyone totally unaware that you were now in the room.

"Halstead's life for all our CI files."

"H- His life?" you asked, frozen on the top step to the bullpen.

"Shit," Kevin muttered.

"Is he in trouble? Is he dead? Is that why he didn't answer my calls?" Your bottom lip started to tremble.

Antonio took a deep breath. He knew that if Gabby was in trouble that he'd want as much detail about what was happening as possible. "Something uh, something went wrong earlier," he supplied. "And then, because of that, some dealers took your brother."

"They took him? Took him where?"

"We don't know yet, kid," Al said. "But, that's what we're trying to find out."

When you heard that they didn't know where he was, you ran off towards the locker room. Ruzek tried to put his foot between the wall and the door to stop you from closing it and locking yourself in, but you were too fast for him.

You pulled out your phone and dialed a number you knew you probably should've called earlier when you first thought that Jay was in trouble.

"Erin? Jay's missing. You gotta find him. You're his partner."

***

Erin blearily reached for the phone, still trying to get over her hangover from last night--which lasted well into this morning--to go out for another night of non-stop partying, drinking, and drugs. She furrowed her eyebrows when she saw your name pop up.

"Hell--"

"Erin? Jay's missing. You gotta find him. You're his partner."

"He's--" She cleared her throat. "He's missing? What happened? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. I- I called him because we had a dinner and he didn't pick up, so eventually I just- I came down to the district and I heard someone on the phone say they're going to turn him into fertilizer, Erin."

"Do you know who it was?" she asked as she grabbed her service weapon and slid it into the waistband of her jeans...the same clothes she had been wearing since last night. A call that her boyfriend was missing was definitely curing her hangover fast.

"I don't know. It was- It was some dealer. But, you gotta come here and help them find him. You're his partner. Please." Your voice cracked on the last word.

"Okay, okay, I'll call Will to come pick you up and explain the situation. I'm leaving my apartment right now. I'll be there soon."

"Please don't call Will," you urged. "He's gonna be mad at me."

"Why's he gonna be mad at you?"

"Because I took the El and I'm not supposed to take the El by myself."

"Y/N, you taking the El by yourself is the least of his problems at the moment. Just sit tight and I should be there in about ten minutes."

***

"Y/N, c'mon open this door. Please?" you heard your oldest brother's voice on the other side of the door. "I know you're worried about Jay, but it's not gonna help at all if you just lock yourself in here all night."

You sniffled and then walked over to the door and unlocked it. "Will!" you cried, rushing into his arms. "He's gone, he's gone, he's gone."

"Hey, hey it's okay. You're okay. They're gonna find him and then you can have two dinners with him next month because you missed yours this month."

The number of times Jay had been shot or hurt on the job had caused Will to basically be immune to hearing bad news about his little brother. But, if Jay didn't come back or flatlined, then he'd be freaking out. And, despite Will wanting to scream at all of Intelligence to go find him, he knew he couldn't do that. He couldn't lash out right now because it'd only make it worse for you.

Your stomach growled, making Will go into even more protective brother mode. "When's the last time you ate?"

"Lunch," you answered.

"Y/N, it's 7:30. We gotta get some food in you."

"But, but what if he comes back? I wanna see him when he comes back."

"I'm gonna be honest with you. When he comes back, he's probably gonna need to go to the hospital just as a precaution. And, I know you have exams soon and your algebra one is stressing you out. I don't think Jay would want you to fail an exam just because you were worried about him."

"I hate math," you grumbled.

"I know. That's why you need to make sure you study."

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna end up liking it because I have to work on it."

Will didn't know what to say to that because he knew that you were right. So, he reiterated his previous point. "Let's go get you some food."

"Can-Can we just eat at home?" you asked. "I don't wanna not be home and hear bad news about Jay."

Will knew what you were getting at: you didn't want to break down in public.

"Yeah, we can do that. Still got a bunch of mac n cheese at home?"

"A few boxes," you answered, remembering how bare the cupboards were at your and your dad's house.

"We'll just grab something on the way home. C'mon."

"Can Erin come, too?" you asked.

"Go ask her. And, don't take the El by yourself. That's dangerous."

You rolled your eyes and followed him out of the locker room and into the bullpen.

"Erin," you started as you walked up to her desk. She had her head in her hands.

"Hmmm?" she asked looking up.

"Do you wanna come back to my house and eat dinner with me and Will?"

"I don't know if--"

"She'll come," Voight answered before she could finish.

"Hank!"

"Erin, we'll still be here working when you're done with dinner. Lord knows you could use some food in you."

"Fine." She stood up and grabbed her coat. "Not like you're letting me help with the case anyway," she muttered. But, no one heard that part.

Since she had quit Intelligence in Bunny's bar a few weeks ago, Voight was right in having her not work the case...not that she'd admit that. But this was her boyfriend, her partner, that was in trouble and she'd be damned if she didn't help get him out of this mess.

***

"Dad's not home?" Will asked as he let them into the house using the spare key that was hidden under a layer of dirt in the flower pot.

"He never is," you mumbled.

"What? What do you mean he's never home?"

"I mean, he's never home on Friday nights because he always goes out to the bar with some old friends," you told him. That was at least true. He did go out to the bar with some old friends...but it wasn't just Friday nights anymore, it was Friday, Saturday, and sometimes Thursday and Sunday, too. Because of this, he ate out a lot and didn't cook. Therefore, he had no reason to buy a lot of groceries, which was why there wasn't a lot of dinner food left in the cupboard...not that there was a lot of breakfast or lunch food here either, though. There was just enough for you to play it off that your dad just needed to go to the store. There was just enough for your brothers not to worry.

"Okay." Will started to grab the Olive Garden you had ordered out of the bag. You said you weren't hungry--you didn't want to eat when you were this nervous-- and had only wanted to get some minestrone soup. But, Will insisted that you needed more than that so you compromised: minestrone soup and half an order of fettuccine alfredo...plus the breadsticks and the salad that came with the meal obviously.

A while later, Will was almost done with his food and was grabbing another breadstick and Erin was putting more salad onto her plate. You, on the other hand, had barely managed to finish your minestrone.

"Y/N, can you please eat a bit more? How about a breadstick? I know you love those," Will said.

"I'm not that hungry," you said quietly.

Will was about to say something when Erin stepped in. "How about you work on some of your homework? Maybe that'll make your appetite come back since you're using a lot of energy to focus. And, Jay mentioned that you have exams next week."

"He did?" you asked. You didn't think that Jay would mention stuff that you had going on in your life, like exams, to Erin.

"He always says how proud of you he is for working so hard in school...because he says that he was never as good in school as you."

"He really says he's proud of me?"

"He sure does."

"You guys mind if I do it out here? It's a lot easier to write stuff down when I'm writing in my notebook on the table instead of balancing it in my lap on my bed."

"Sure, kiddo," Will said.

You went to your room and grabbed your backpack and then started to work on your homework.

As you were working on it, your brain wandered back to the first time Jay had helped you with your math homework, all the way back in kindergarten, at this very kitchen table, when both of your parents had been working and Will was all the way in New York for his first year of med school.

You were sitting at the kitchen table, trying not to crumple up your math homework sheet and throw it across the room. It was only five subtraction problems, but subtraction was hard! You had only just started understanding addition!

You threw your pencil across the kitchen, where it narrowly missed the wall. It clattered to the floor, causing Jay to look up from where he was reading a book in the living room, the chair he had been sitting in was facing the kitchen, so he could keep an eye on you.

"Did you throw that?" he asked as he walked towards you.

"No," you lied.

He picked up the pencil. "If you lie, you get nine minutes in time out instead of six."

You didn't want to go in time out that long!

"I throwed it," you admitted, looking down at your math homework.

"It's threw, but thank you for being honest. Can you tell me why you threw the pencil?"

That was something his mom always did with him when he was younger: asked him why he did something and then, possibly put him in time out. Sometimes, he just needed to talk it out, and if that was the case, he didn't have to go into time out.

"I don't get sub-trac-shun!" you complained. "It's stupid!"

"Hey, we don't use that word."

"But it's hard."

"I know, but what if I help you? Would that help you to get it?"

"But Will said you not good at math," you pointed out, remembering something your oldest brother had said.

Jay chuckled. "I'm not good at big kid math. This stuff is easy for me."

"It's easy?"

"Oh, yeah. And, I think I might have something that can help you."

He walked over to the cupboard and reached up to the top shelf where he grabbed a bag of chocolate chips. He poured some into a small bowl and then walked back to the table and sat down next to you.

"We gonna eat chocolate?" you asked. "Even though I throwed-- I threw my pencil?"

"This is gonna help you learn subtraction."

"How?"

"Just watch." He paused and looked at the paper in front of you. "So, this one says five minus two."

"I know that," you told him proudly. "I know it says five minus two. I dunno what the an- the answer is though."

"Okay, well, take five chocolate chips out of here."

He held the bag out to you while you took five out, counting each one out loud. "What do I do now?"

"Now, if I eat two--" he popped two in his mouth. "--how many do you have now?"

You looked down at the chocolate chips. "One...Two...Three. I have three choc-chips!"

"That's right! So, five minus two is...?"

You scrunched up your face, trying to piece together what he had done. "I dunno."

"We had five chocolate chips. I ate two. How many did you say we have left?"

"Three!"

"Yeah. Five minus two is the same thing...just without me adding chocolate chips to the end."

"Huh?"

"Here." He took your paper from you and on the first three problems, he wrote chocolate chips after each number. "Five chocolate chips minus two chocolate chips is...?"

"Three!"

"Yeah! Good job! Now, write three down as your answer."

The next problem was three chocolate chips minus one chocolate chip and you did the same thing this time. Except, you got to eat the chocolate instead of Jay. You had two chocolate chips left this time.

Then, when you got to the last two problems that didn't say chocolate chips after the numbers, Jay showed you on your fingers how to figure out the answer.

Then, since you did such a good job, he let you watch Dora and eat some more chocolate chips.

"Y/N? Y/N? You good?" You were snapped out of your thoughts by Will saying your name.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine." You reached over the table to grab your pencil that had rolled towards Will. But, as you were reaching for it, your elbow knocked the two-liter of pop. "No!" you cried out as it spilled. It didn't just spill anywhere though...it spilled right on top of your algebra notebook. "Fuck this! I can't do this!"

You threw your pop-covered and sticky notebook on the ground and sprinted to the bathroom, ignoring Will and Erin's calls for you to come back.

You locked the door and slumped down against it. God, you needed that notebook. That had your entire exam review in it. And, if you didn't finish the exam review, you couldn't take the exam.

You only had 25 more problems left out of the 220 you had to do, hence why the review was given to you a month before you actually had to take the exam, so you had time to do it. And, some kids would wait until the last minute, but you figured you'd start early and do a certain number of problems a day so you didn't have to stress out and had time to ask your teacher questions if you had any.

But now, now you had a matter of days to do all 220 problems...and you had other exams to study for...and your big brother was missing...and...

Shit, here comes the Olive Garden.

You jumped up and lifted the lid of the toilet, quickly emptying the minestrone soup from your stomach.

"Y/N? Y/N! Open this door!" Will yelled as he banged on the door.

You leaned back against the bathtub and took a few deep breaths, willing yourself not to throw up again. You groaned as you felt the liquid rise in your throat and were back above the toilet in a matter of seconds.

You were panting at this point and trying to take a few breaths before more came out. Because you were so focused on making sure you didn't inhale your own vomit (ew) you didn't hear Will pick the lock and enter the bathroom.

When all that was left for you to throw up was bile and you were finished, you closed your eyes and leaned back against the bathtub once more, and took deep breaths.

"So that's why you didn't want to eat any more than you did," Will said.

"Will? How'd you get in here?"

"I picked the lock, Jay's not the only person in this family who knows how to do that, you know."

"I hate this," you mumbled, eyes still closed. "It happened last semester with exams too, but it wasn't this bad."

"Kid, you're stressing yourself out too much. You have to take a chill pill."

"I c-can't!"

"Okay," Will started as he crouched down next to you. "Why can't you relax?"

"I spilled pop all over my notebook!"

"So? You already practiced those problems. You know you don't need to practice them again, so just do the ones you need to practice."

"You don't get it!" You frantically rubbed the heels of your hands over your eyes as tears started to stream from them. "I needed that notebook! If I don't turn in the entire exam review I c-can't take the exam." You sighed and just put your head in your hands. This night seriously could not get any worse at this point. "And, Jay's miss- Jay's missing!"

"Y/N, I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? Just take one."

"O-Okay." You took a deep, yet shaky breath.

"Now another."

You took another deep, yet shaky breath. And, you continued this cycle until Will deemed your breathing to be back to normal.

"How about you brush your teeth and then we'll figure out what to do for the homework once you do that. Sound good?" You nodded and stood up to go to the sink. "I'll be in the kitchen with Erin."

Then, Will exited the bathroom to go back into the kitchen like he told you.

"How is she?" Erin asked when she saw him come in. She had started cleaning up their take-out containers while Will had been busy trying to calm you down. "Sounded like she was puking."

"Because she was."

"Is she sick?"

"Not in the technical sense. But, she is what I like to call stress sick."

"Stress sick?"

"Exams are stressing her out, so add on top of the fact that Jay's missing, and she got so stressed out that she threw up."

"Poor kid," Erin sympathized. Then, her phone buzzed. "I gotta get back to the district. Tell her to feel better from me."

"Will do." He started to walk Erin towards the door, but stopped when they were almost to it. "And Erin? Bring my little brother back. Even though he's a pain in my ass half the time, I can't lose him. And, I know Y/N would take it really hard."

"Will, he's got the best unit in all of Chicago looking for him. We'll bring him back."

A few minutes after Erin had left, you walked into the kitchen, with clean teeth and the gross taste of vomit now out of your mouth, to see Will sitting at the table, staring at your notebook with a roll of paper towel next to him. "What are you doing?" you asked as you sat down.

"Trying to get the stain out," he replied.

"How? It's like the entire notebook, not just one page."

"You're talking to the king of spilled coffee on homework. And, lucky for you, pop and coffee are both water-based. So, I think I know how to get this out. You're gonna need to rewrite it in a new notebook, though."

"Okay. Need any help?"

"Can you just get me a bowl filled with water?"

"The paper's already wet. Why do you want to make it wetter?"

"Just trust me on this one." You yawned. "After you grab that for me, maybe you should go to bed. It's been a long day."

"Will you stay here?"

"Of course. I can just sleep in my old bedroom...unless Dad did something to it. Speaking of Dad, is he usually out this late? Does he usually leave you home alone this late at night?"

You were filling up a bowl with water and turned to look at Will. You shrugged. "Sometimes. It's okay, though." That was a lie. Most nights he didn't get home until two or three in the morning...but, Will didn't need to know that.

"I'm going to have a chat with Dad about that. He shouldn't be leaving you home alone this late at night."

"Will, it's not even that late. I'm fine." You placed the bowl of water on the table.

"Fine. But if it hits midnight and he's not home yet, then I will be talking with him about this."

You nodded. "Well, I'm gonna go to bed. 'Night Will. Sorry about getting sick."

"You don't have to apologize for that." He stood up and pulled you into a hug. "Goodnight."

You started to walk towards your bedroom when you remembered something and turned back to Will. "Will?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you think Jay's okay? He's gotta be okay, right?"

"Y/N, he's got the best unit in the city looking for him."

"And Erin."

"And Erin," he confirmed. "He'll be okay." But, in that moment he didn't know who he was trying to reassure more: you or himself.

***

"You wanna go somewhere today?" Will asked as you were both sitting at the kitchen table eating cereal the next morning.

"I have homework to do...a lot more than I thought I'd have, too. Did Erin give you any updates on Jay?" you asked.

He shook his head. "But, he's gonna be okay. And, you don't have a ton of homework to do. You have a ton of homework to copy."

"What do you mean?"

At this, he placed the notebook on the table. "I told you I knew what I was doing."

You flipped open the notebook to see that Will was right: he did in fact know what he was doing. Even though the pages were all still tinted a light brown from the pop, the writing from you doing all the practice problems was still legible. "How did you...?" you trailed off as you continued to flip through your algebra notebook.

"Like I told you, I spilled coffee on one too many notebooks in college. Now all you need to do is copy the problems down into a clean notebook. Save you some brainpower."

"Thank you."

"Now, I suggest we got to CCU's library so you can get a change of scenery while doing that."

"CCU? Why? And, you're not a student there anymore. How are we gonna get in?"

Will scoffed. "They don't check student IDs when you go in. And, a change in my workspace always helped me to focus when I was studying, so maybe it'll help you."

"Workspace," you mocked. "So professional. But, yeah, let's do that. Can we keep our phones on though in case Erin calls?"

Will nodded. "Of course."

***

Getting into CCU wasn't actually that hard. All Will had to do was pay $10 for a day pass to park and then you walked into the library, no student ID necessary.

"Okay kiddo, where are we sitting?" he asked.

"I don't know. I've never been here before. Where did you normally sit?"

"Second floor. It's generally quieter up there and the tables are big, so I could throw my books all over it. But, I'd come back down here for coffee a lot, too."

"There's a coffee shop?" you asked as you widened your eyes. "In the library?"

"Well, tuition is out of this world. So, at least we get something out of it."

"Can we go? I think I have $5 somewhere in my backpack."

"If prices haven't gone up since I was here when the dinosaurs roamed the earth, then I can get a muffin and a large coffee for $5. I'll have the coffee and you can have the muffin. I'll pay," Will told you.

"Okay, thank you! And, you're not that old, Will."

You got your triple chocolate muffin and Will got his large coffee. Then, you found one of the big tables that he had mentioned and started copying your algebra review into another notebook.

"What are you going to do? Sit here and stare off into space?" you asked your brother. "Wait," you began as you started to rummage around in your backpack for an eraser, "What's this?"

You set a big book on the table. And it's definitely not something you'd read because it was called "How We Learn", which you assumed meant that the book was nonfiction and went into the science of learning.

"I found it in my room. Must've left it there from Christmas last year and I haven't had a chance to read it, so I figured I'd bring it to read now."

"Fair enough."

***

"Did Jay ever want to go to college?" you asked a few hours later. "Or, did he know it just wasn't right for him?"

"I think he always knew he wanted to do something involving being on the front lines and being in all the action," Will answered, dog-earing the page in his book and setting it down. "Why? You don't want to go to college either?"

"No, I do," you said quickly. "It's just- I just want to know things that I've never asked him if we...you know..."

Will nodded. "I know you're worried about him, but if Hank Voight's anything like Jay's told me, he won't let anything happen to one of his own."

"But he let it happen to Jules," you said. What if Jay was the next Jules?

"Jules? Who's Jules?"

"She was Antonio's partner. Antonio's the reason Jay got into Intelligence. And one day, he said we were going to go see a movie. Like, he just randomly picked me up from school and everything. I could tell he was sad after the movie, and it wasn't a sad movie, and he told me that someone he worked with died. A little later, we were walking by the memorial wall by the district and he showed me her name."

"I see," Will said, drawing on his talking-to-patient skills because what else was he going to say?

Luckily, he was saved by his phone ringing.

"Hello? Erin?" Pause. "He's at Med?" Pause. "Okay, yeah, we'll be there in ten minutes."

"He's okay?" you asked as soon as Will ended the call. "Jay's okay? They found him?"

Will nodded. "He's at Med. Erin said he's a little bruised, but he was conscious, so that's good."

You took Will's book and shoved it in your backpack along with your schoolwork. "Let's go."

***

"Nat, really, my ribs don't need to be wrapped. I'm fine," Jay protested as he sat in a treatment room at Chicago Med, Erin standing next to him in some clean clothes that Natalie had let her borrow.

"Jay, your ribs are badly bruised. They need to be wrapped. If you're more comfortable with a guy wrapping them, I can easily call in a male nurse for help," Natalie suggested.

"No, it's not that. I don't care who does it."

"My little brother just doesn't want to bruise his big ego, that's what's going on, Nat," Will said as he entered the treatment room with you by his side.

You jumped when Jay turned and you saw his face and his chest: a black eye that went from the inside corner of his right eye to his right temple, a gash on the top right of his forehead, another gash on the left side of his forehead which was diagonal and above the outside portion of his left eyebrow, a jagged cut that went down his left temple starting at eye level, a split lip, and purple, blue, and red bruises along with some cuts and welts that littered his ribs and chest.

"You're okay?" you asked as your lips pulled into a frown and tears stung your eyes.

"I'm okay. Just a little beat up right now. Nothing to worry about."

Without thinking, you ran to his bed and gave him a hug. He let out a groan as you squeezed a bit too tight, irritating his ribs.

You pulled away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's okay, my ribs are just gonna be a little sore for a few days."

"I thought you were going to be turned into fertilizer."

"Fertilizer?" Jay furrowed his eyebrows. "Who told you that?"

"When you didn't call me back about dinner, I tried calling Adam, but he didn't pick up either, so I went to the district. I heard some guy on the phone saying he was going to turn you into- into fertilizer. I was so scar- so scared."

Tears rolled down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away.

Jay stood up with a grimace and walked the few paces over to you, wrapping you in a hug. "Hey, I'm okay now. That's all that matters. And, you did a really good job calling Erin."

"I did?"

"You sure did. She told me all about how you told her that I was gone and that she'd be able to get me out because we're partners." He paused. "She also told me that you took the El by yourself."

"Erin," you whined. "You weren't supposed to tell him that."

"It's okay," Jay said. "I won't tell Dad as long as you don't do it again."

"I won't," you replied. Not like Dad would do anything anyway, you thought to yourself.

"Jay," Will started, "You need to get back into bed."

"It's just bruised ribs, Will. I'm fine," Jay argued.

"It's just bruised ribs, Will. I'm fine," Will mocked. "Yeah, tell me that tomorrow when you can barely walk because of how sore they are. Bed. Now."

"Fine." Jay sat down with a huff and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I swear, you're such a child, Halstead," Erin said.

***

You walked out of school a few days later feeling free. Summer was here and you were no longer a middle-schooler. You were now a high schooler.

You started to walk out of campus, the way you took to walk home every day, when you heard the thundering of footsteps behind you, causing you to jump and turn around.

"Jay." You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw it was your brother.

"Hey, figured I'd pick you up. My text must not have gone through."

"Oh, I turned my phone off because of exams. Sorry."

"No problem. C'mon, we're going out to lunch and then we'll stop home to grab your swimsuit."

"Swimsuit? Why?"

"Mom would always take us to Navy Pier on the first day of summer to go swimming. And, since Will's shift ends at 1:00 and I'm on leave because of injury, it's the first year we can actually do this all together."

You nodded, trying to hold back tears at the mention of your mom.

"Hey, let me take your backpack. That thing looks like it's gonna make you topple over." You took it off and handed it to him. "Whoa! What's in here? Rocks?"

You laughed. "Nope, end of the year locker cleanout. Everything that was shoved in my locker is now in there."

"No rotten food I hope," Jay joked.

"No," you laughed. "Why? Did you or Will leave food in your locker?"

"No, we knew better than that. But the kid next to me left a milk carton in there over spring break and that smelled funky when we got back. I started bringing my backpack around with me just so I didn't have to go back to my locker because it smelled so bad."

"We can't do that. Teachers say it's for our safety because of bombs."

Jay opened the door to the backseat and put your backpack in there while you got into the passenger seat. Then, he got in the driver's seat all the while thinking how you knew that that was the reasoning behind that rule. He knew the reasoning because he was a detective. But he thought that most of the time, kids just thought it was some stupid rule.

"How do you know about that?" he asked once he started his truck.

"One of my teachers told us. She was mad at a kid who kept bringing his backpack to class even though she told him not to, so he went off on her and called it a stupid rule and asked why we even had the rule. She told him it was because if there's a bomb threat then she has to check every single backpack. That's why."

"Oh," was all Jay said. He really didn't want to be having this conversation with you, but here he was.

"Is it different?" you asked.

"Is what different?"

"Like, is high school different now than when you were in high school? And how different is middle school from high school?"

"Are you nervous for high school already, kiddo? You just finished eighth grade like fifteen minutes ago!"

You shrugged. "I'm just curious is all." Jay quirked an eyebrow at you while he took his eyes off the road for a split second and then returned them back to the road. "Okay, fine. I'm a little nervous."

"Let's talk about this over brunch, okay?"

"Okay."

***

Of course, Jay knew that you wanted to go to iHOP because breakfast was good at any time of the day. Jay thought differently though and ordered a sandwich instead of breakfast food like you. You had gotten their cinnamon roll pancakes with bacon, sausage, and hashbrowns on the side.

You were waiting for the comment about it being a lot of food, but that never came...which you were thankful for. You didn't know how you were supposed to explain to your very perceptive brother that the reason that you were eating a lot here was that you only had about 3/4 cups of dry cereal this morning before school because you were out of milk. You were out of milk and your dad didn't go grocery shopping. And, it's not like you had enough money to buy groceries or that you knew where your dad kept the money so you could take $20 just to buy food and hide it in your room so that you had something to eat.

"So, what do you want to know about high school?" Jay asked. "Did you get your schedule yet?"

If you were going to Central Chicago High School after going to their middle school, you had the option to schedule your classes the month prior and then you'd see if you'd get those classes. Of course, it might not be possible to get every class with every teacher you want, but it was cool that you got to know right when you finished eighth grade. And, in high school, it was the same thing: on the last day of ninth grade, if you were staying for tenth grade, then you'd get your schedule on the last day of ninth grade. It was sort of weird to you, but you got used to it.

"Is Eva going to be at the beach, too?" you asked. You knew it was her's and Diego's last day of school along with Jordan's and Vanessa's, so you wanted Jordan and Eva to be there when you told everyone your schedule so they could tell you everything they knew about the teachers you had next year.

"I can text Antonio. Why?" Jay asked.

"I just wanted to see if Eva and maybe Jordan would be there because they could tell me everything about the teachers I have."

"I can text Antonio and Kevin. You know what, I'll text Ruz and Burgess too."

"And Mouse."

"And Mouse. Can't forget about him now, can we?"

"What about Erin? Is she coming, too?"

"Uh, I don't know about that. She's had a rough couple of days."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "Why?"

"You know how Voight took her in?" You nodded. "Well, after Nadia died, she was backsliding. Badly. And now, she's detoxing and it's kinda hard on a person's body."

"Okay, but seeing you would make her feel better. She's always happy when she's around you. And you always have this big, dopey grin on your face whenever you're around her."

"I do not," Jay protested. You raised your eyebrows at him. "Okay fine, maybe I do that occasionally. I'll text some people and then we can talk about high school."

Jay sent the texts while you continued to eat. He took a few bites of his sandwich and then broached the topic of high school once more by saying, "So, what do you want to know about high school?"

"I dunno. How's it different from when you went to school like twenty years ago."

"Hey! It was not twenty years ago. I'll have you know it was ten years ago!"

"Same thing."

Jay rolled his eyes. "Well, shootings happened, but not as much as they do now." You opened your mouth to ask if Jay had ever responded to one, when he stopped you. "And I know what you're going to ask. No, I didn't respond to one and I wouldn't tell you if I did. What do I always tell you?"

"I'm trying to keep you innocent and sheltered from all the bad stuff in the world," you said verbatim of what he had told you dozens of times when you asked for details of what he was doing at work.

"Word for word. So, we got to carry our backpacks around and it was an open campus."

"It used to be an open campus?" you asked, shocked.

"Yup, we rarely even had to sign out."

"Lucky! I wanna leave school and go to Mcdonald's for lunch!"

"Too bad you weren't born like fifteen years earlier and that could've happened."

"Oh, and we could eat lunch on the roof. There was a way to climb through the ceiling above the indoor track. It's closed now, though."

"Why'd they close it?"

"Yeah, you might want to wait until we're at the beach for me to tell that story since I'm sure everybody else would find it funny."

"Okay..." you trailed off, drawing out the "y". You didn't know why everyone would find a story of a hole in the ceiling being closed funny, but you figured it was best to let Jay have his way...with this one at least. "What's the difference between middle school and high school?"

"Now, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret: nobody cares in high school."

"What do you mean?"

"Just ask Eva when we get to the beach."

"She's coming?"

"Her, Diego, Antonio, Kev, Adam, Kim, Jordan, Vanessa, Mouse, Erin, and of course Will are all coming."

***

Luckily, Jay decided to stay in the car while you ran inside your house and changed into a swimsuit, slipping your clothes over top of it so it would be easier when you got to the pier.

"Dawson!" Jay yelled as he walked up the beach, bag in hand filled with his swim trunks, water bottles, and a few bags of chips. Typically, he would've brought beer to the beach, but he had to drive home, with you in the car no less, so no drinking for him.

"Halstead!" Antonio yelled back.

Once you got up close enough, you saw that Gabby was there, too.

"Bring Gabby to be your DD, Antonio?" Jay jokingly asked.

"I mean, I'm sure Ruzek's bringing beer, so I might be able to get away with one."

"Uh uh," Gabby said. "If Kim brings some fruity drinks, you're driving home."

"So, if she brings regular drinks I can have a few beers?"

"Your cap is two, Antonio. You've got these two to take care of." She gestured to Eva and Diego. Diego was already jumping the waves and Eva was laying down on a beach towel starting to get a tan.

"Eva!" Antonio yelled. "Y/N's here!"

"Oh thank God," she said and walked up to you. "Girl, come sit your towel down next to mine and then we can look at your schedule."

"Yeah, I wanna see that, too!" Jay exclaimed.

"Should we wait for Will? And Jordan? Maybe Jordan has some input about the teachers. And, Jay said he has a story to tell about a hole in the ceiling of the high school and he wants to be sure everyone is around to hear it."

Ten minutes later, everyone had arrived and was in their swimming gear. "Okay, what's this story about the ceiling, Jay?" you asked.

"Oh, that story," Will joked.

"Yeah, that one. What other one would there be?"

Will rolled his eyes.

"Okay, before I start, I am going to preface this by saying that I was young and I was very stupid."

"He's stupid every day," Will dramatically leaned over Jay and whispered to Erin.

"Man, would you shut up and let me tell the story?" Will sat in silence for a few seconds. "Thank you.

"We all know about senior pranks. Well, it was my senior year and a few of us from the soccer team decided to pool our money together and buy some live chickens--"

"Did you say chickens? As in chickens with feathers? That squawk?" Kevin asked.

"Yes, real chickens. What other ones would there be?"

"Maybe they were chicken nuggets," Adam suggested.

Jay dramatically sighed. "Antonio, did you miss having me in the unit this week? You and Erin had to put up with these two bozos all by yourself."

"Hey!" Adam and Kevin yelled in unison.

"Anyway, as I was saying, some of us from the soccer team pooled our money together to buy chickens. Real live chickens, not chicken nuggets, Ruz. Then, we chose a Sunday night to get into the school--they always left this one back door unlocked--and we climbed onto the roof from the stairs/hole thingy in the ceiling right above the indoor track.

"Once we got to the roof, we dropped the chickens off of it. But, our stupid lookout got caught and then the cops came."

"You got arrested?" Adam laughed. "This is priceless."

"Didn't get arrested. Just had to do community service to be able to walk at graduation. But, nowadays, yeah, I'd have probably gotten arrested."

"So, that's why they closed it? Because you and your friends decided to drop chickens from the roof?" you asked.

"Exactly."

"Were Mom and Dad mad?" you asked. "I was little. I don't remember."

"They weren't thrilled, I'll tell you that much. I think if I would've gotten arrested it would've been a lot worse."

"He's downplaying it," Will said. "Mom grounded him from everything. Car keys, those crappy Motorola phones we had back then, GameBoy, dates with Allie. He couldn't do anything."

"Does not sound fun. I won't be trying that." You pulled your schedule out of the bag Jay had brought and passed it to your brother first.

"Aw, man, you got Cunningham for history," Jay groaned. "Or should I say Cuntingham."

"Jay!" you yelled.

"That old hag is still teaching? Damn," Will added.

"Okay, what's the issue with her? Eva? Jordan? Anything about this Cunningham lady?"

"She just hates freshman," Eva supplied. "When you become a sophomore it gets better."

"And she hates when you tip back in your chair," Jordan added. "She'll make you pay her 25 cents if she sees you do it in her class."

"Okay, no tipping in chairs, and I have to deal with her for a year, noted." You turned to your brothers. "How do you know of her?"

"I didn't have a problem with her other than the fact that she's a crappy teacher," Will said. "But Jay, on the other hand, he's a different story."

"What'd you do?"

"So, I was a freshman when you were born and Mom went into labor the night before I had a test. And, because everyone hates tests, I went to the hospital with Will that morning and we waited for Mom to you know, be done giving birth to you.

"And, I went to school the next day and this old hag said that because there wasn't a doctor's note that I couldn't take the test--"

"He was this close--" Will pinched his pointer finger and thumb together so that they were almost touching. "--to taking you to school one day just to show you to Cunningham and saying is this a good enough doctor's note for you?"

"But Mom wouldn't let me do that...for obvious reasons. And then, because I couldn't take that one stupid test, I did not do well in that class."

"Just say you're related to me," Will said. "Don't mention Jay's name at all and you'll be fine."

"Got it. I'm gonna go in the water now."

You started to go in the water when you heard Erin and Will trying to convince Jay to go in.

"Dude, I can't roughhouse because of my ribs, you know this!" Jay told Will. "And, I am not going in the water with you again, not after what happened last time."

"Jay, that was twelve years ago, give it rest."

At this, your ears perked up. "What'd Will do?" you asked, walking back up to your brothers and Erin.

"He tried to drown me."

"Did not! I just wanted to see how long you could hold your breath."

"Yeah, see how long it would take me to drown!"

"He tried to drown you?" Erin asked.

"Yeah," Jay answered. "Me and Will were playing in the water. I was like 16 and Will was like 18. Y/N was a little toddler and was playing with her shovel on the beach. Then, Mom had to go to the bathroom, so she left me and Will in charge."

"Bad idea number one," Will said.

"There's more bad ideas. So, Y/N's playing in the sand, me and Will are playing in the water, and then next thing I know, Will's practically on top of me and holding my head underwater."

"And the minute I let you up was the minute Mom came back."

"Yup, perfect timing."

"And then you have Y/N who's sitting on the beach and decided to watch us and was just clapping her hands and chanting again, again!"

"Really?" you asked, as you tried to hold back your laughter. "I did that?" Will nodded and you shrugged. "Sounds pretty accurate to me."

"And then I didn't get ice cream after."

"Yeah, you didn't get ice cream after." Jay took a deep breath. "You almost killed me!"

You rolled your eyes. "I'm going in the water to cool off. Maybe it is best that you guys stay here. But, I mean, Gabby's here and I hope to God Will knows CPR because he's a doctor and that you cops do, too."

Once Will saw that you weren't focused on him and Jay anymore, he turned to his little brother. "Hey, how old was dad when he kinda, you know, clocked out on parenting us?"

"Early high school," Jay answered. "Why are you...oh shit, Y/N."

"Yeah, Y/N," Will reiterated. "And, we had Mom, so it wasn't that bad. But, she doesn't have that."

"She's got us," Jay said. "That's gotta count for something."

A/N: I was going to post this last night, but I almost fell asleep while editing, so it's coming out now. Anyway, not sure how I feel about this one, but I got it done, so that's all that matters. Thank you for reading! Please vlike/reblog and comment and tell me what you think! As always, if you want to be added to the taglist, just comment that you want to be added down below. PS: That story about chickens being dropped into the courtyard at school, yeah my older cousin did that for his senior prank and the lookout got caught and they had to do community service to walk at graduation.

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e

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regrettablewritings · 3 years

Note

DJ X READER HEADCANON you pick 😉😉

I blink at the request that stares back at me from my inbox, brow furrowing with every flutter of my lashes. "Sis . . ." I murmur, "you good?" As though my ass had not also been search for content relating to this forgotten POS just the other day. But if you insist . . .

4. What they do on date night:

To be brutally honest, DJ will look you dead in the eye and tell you that going for a night out on the town pick-pocketing is a date. Or, at least, he will try to. It's surprisingly hard to maintain eye contact with someone whose glare could probably cut beskar.

In his defense (if he even deserves any), DJ does try to make it a little more fun than he already finds it -- granted, it's done in a very DJ way. You get your little evening promenade through the streets, he tricks you to a quick bite to eat, you hold hands and run through the lantern-speckled streets before turning down a narrow alleyway that's just perfect for sharing an intense liplock . . .

Of course, this all translates into your evening together including: Walking through a marketplace, your asshole boyfriend slipping peoples' credits out of their pockets and purses under the guise of bumping into them; him using those sticky fingers of his to nick some street food off of a cart before its proprietor called the authorities on his theft; said sticky fingers lacing with yours as he guides you down the crowded streets (grinning like the little shit he was for enjoying the chase); all before making a sudden jerk down an alleyway.

You're breathless, irritated, and . . . maybe -- only just maybe -- a little excited by the thrill of it all. But you can't let him know that, otherwise, he'd never let you live it down and he'd be the cock of the goddamn walk for who knows how long. Worse: He'd consider this a win for his insistence that this sort of thing counted as a date! And there was no way in hell you were about to let that happen!

You only got as far as opening your mouth to hiss own some choice words at him when you instead got cut off by your thieving significant other pressing you against the grubby alley wall. Even if you hadn't been distracted by the action to remember to cuss him out, the words were instantly killed. They were inhaled by his own lips, his kiss encompassing your words, your thoughts, your . . . everything. They were speared by his tongue, as though it were his weapon against the beast that brewed within you.

And they were quelled by the feel of his callused fingers brushing against your cheeks before moving onward to the beck of your head, pressing you only further into his hold. DJ's fingers were deft, but that didn't necessarily mean that their carefulness was always directed at you. It's . . . something to savor . . .

Of course, it was meant to fool the chumps following the both of you but you don't mind. Not in that moment anyway. When you get back to wherever you're staying for the night, it's another story, but one DJ is more than happy to bring to a happy ending.

It's a bit nicer when he gets his hands one someone's credits, though: It means he can take you out to an actual establishment. However, be warned: It's only a bit nicer because you also need to be on the lookout for the authorities (or the poor bastard you stole from), or be prepared to make a run for it.

11. What their first impression was of each other:

Dirty. Old. Bastard. A dirty old bastard. And to your credit, you weren't wrong, but of course, the first impression is always the shallowest. And considering the shithead had just tried to put the moves on you when you were already having a rough day . . . Yeah, he honestly deserved presumptions with the depth of one's own navel -- an outie, preferably.

He stood out against the Canto Bight elite with his grubbiness, looking like a leathery garbage pouch at best and like a guy who'd try to sell you a faulty droid at moderate. A dirty, bastardly part of you couldn't help but muse that perhaps the worst he could do was be a nasty lay -- and not nasty in the way one might want, either.

Granted, it wasn't hard to imagine that: The fact he was hitting on you while you were trying your best to just survive your shift at the casino that evening did little to convince you he was any good.

And as for DJ, it was a one-two-punch type of introduction. Literally: First he eyed you, then he got a little too suggestive, and then you punched him. What a sleazeball, right? It was his own damn fault for assuming the least of you, though. You were cute like all the other servers, no doubt, with that shy smile of yours that made it abundantly clear to him that this sort of place wasn't your scene if you didn't have to work there. Unlike the other servers, however, he was feeling pretty brazen about you.

DJ has no interest in the concept of “fate” or “destined meetings”, but even months out from that point he wouldn’t be able to place precisely what compelled him to break his usual protocol of being discreet. Nor why he was so insistent. All he knows was that he called you over to him and, rather than requesting a drink, he “chatted you up”. And might’ve suggested that you two blow off this place and maybe “blow off somewhere else”.

He also knows that the moment you struck his cheek, cheeks burning and eyes widened with the realization of what you’d done, he was wrong and right about you.

You were frankly lucky he turned out to be a blight on the Canto Bight scene, otherwise your boss would’ve fired you the moment he had learned of what you had done. What you were unlucky for, however, was that from then on, the thief started showing up more often. Not enough to get caught (at least, not for long), but enough for him to determine that maybe the both of you really should blow this joint -- in the nonsexual way.

And in the end, you became unlucky once more: For someone so grubby and bastardly, he was also quite the charmer. Y’know, once you’ve smacked him around a bit.

14. What nicknames they call each other:

You honestly struggle to nickname DJ, predominately because, well, DJ is already a nickname. You think. After all, you sincerely doubt anyone would actually name their kid Don’t Join even as a political statement. Really, the fact you don’t know his actual name sort of calls for consideration of how healthy your obviously unhealthy relationship is. But any pleas to learn this asshole’s real name just winds up being like having a namana cream pie shoved in your face, because DJ just turns it all into a joke.

There have been many occasions where DJ would tell you different names he would swear were his own -- often times in the same week! Other times, his claim would be that he’s told you it while you were asleep, or that he once told you but you got conked on the head and forgot it.

Interestingly enough, it’s through these juvenile exploits that he’s earned a bit of a nickname from you: “Bastard”. Just rolls off the tongue, don’t it? To be fair, though, you’re with him for a reason: Even if he may not seem like it, he does have a soft sport for you. Even if it comes out about as smoothly as his features.

In a way, he reminds you of a mutt. A stray mutt. Especially when he shoves his head into your lap after a long day of fucking about and being a menace to whatever society you two decided to hop a ship to.

“You’re like a puppy sometimes, you know that?” you murmur. You scritch into his mess of hair, earning a low growl of contentment from your datemate. He never had to admit it out loud, but your touch clearly did wonders to him. This was evidence by how his already large body began to further sprawl along the couch the ship he’d stolen came with. Yup; just like a puppy. A big, raggedy puppy. Who needs a trip to the refresher as soon as this scritching session was over.

For DJ, on the other hand, nicknames come easily. Honestly, it’s mainly due to how he barely takes anyone or anything seriously: When you don’t concern yourself with all the muddled nonsense of society or wide circles of people, it becomes a whole lot easier to see everyone’s buttons. And considering he was a master slicer, button-pressing was definitely his thing.

Despite the fact that you were a one-in-a-million instance of being someone whom the thief actually trusted and treated with even a modicum of respect, even you weren’t immune to his acts of mockery.

“Mornin’, P-p-pipsqueak,” he’d smirk over a cup of caff, knowing damn well that his advantage of height bothered you sometimes.

“Ea-asy there, k-kitten,” he’d purr whenever your frustration would come boiling to the brim. Things like that.

“Lookie here, dollface,” when he wants to butter you up without losing his stance.

But that doesn’t mean he’s unable to be more affectionate. It’s in there, it’s just . . . in there. The best examples, however, tend to be when the both of you are having downtime and are actually safe somewhere. Or whatever safe could mean when you’re with DJ.

Generally, a jail cell wouldn’t be considered safe. Maybe not unsafe if the only occupants were your boyfriend of ill repute and yourself, but it certainly wasn’t enjoyable. And yet, the way DJ just seemed to laze about in them made you feel unnaturally calm. Well, calmer. It would’ve been nicer if your more-than-capable boyfriend would put those slicing skills of his to use and just busted the both of you out of there, but to DJ, a night in the clink meant at least a few hours of shut eye on a bed.

“B-bes-s-sides: We can alw-w-ways just grab on-e of those f-f-f-floating citadels they g-g-g-got docked out there,” he would reason, making himself comfy on the thin mattress. He had a point, you supposed. And it wasn’t as though you hadn’t been expecting this as a part of your life once you got together with him. Still, you weren’t entirely comfortable joining him on said mattress . . . Maker knows when it had last been washed!

You would be far from the first to consider DJ to be the most observant person, dating or not, but your concern must’ve been rich enough for him to practically sense it: Without hesitating, he sat up just enough to offer you his hand.

“C-come on,” he said. “I need to c-c-c-catch some shut e-e-eye, and it ain’t hap-p-p-penin’ if you’re standing d-d-down there the entire t-time.”

A feeling of mild dread seeped into you, followed by a wet blanket of acceptance. You were going to just spend an hour in the refresher of whatever ship you swept off with. Sighing, you accepted the hand, only for the hold to pull you up not onto the mattress, but directly on top of him!

There was plenty to react to -- the sudden movement, the feeling of being on top of DJ -- but the man himself didn’t seem at all fazed. Instead, he focused primarily on tucking in whatever lagging limbs you had and making sure he was cozy enough to continue serving as your mattress for however many hours he needed to recuperate. Which he apparently was: Not once did he protest to your weight pressing down on him, nor did he grunt with displeasure whenever you turned the direction of your head against his chest.

At the most, he only ever offered your back a brief circle of rubbing with his free hand, the other serving as his pillow, before uttering a drowsy, “You good there, kid?”

And, to your surprise . . . yeah. In spite of everything, yeah, you were pretty good . . .

And yet, interestingly enough, no matter what he calls you, none of that ever measures up to when he calls you by your name. Not pipsqueak, not kitten, not dollface or kid or whatever, but your actual name. Because DJ hardly ever refers to anyone by their actual title, let alone cares to remember it. By not only remembering it, but applying it, it shows you that he does care. It’s deep down -- like, real in there -- but it’s there. And you’re the only non-slicing being in the entire galaxy to have ever cracked that sort of safe.

Wear that badge with pride, Hotshot.

Thanks for your patience on this one! Clearly I had a lot of fun writing it! 💖 💖 . . . May gotta actually start writing for DJ. Maybe.

#dj x reader #star wars dj x reader #dj star wars x reader #star wars x reader #dj imagine #dj imagines #character ship meme #character x reader #character ask meme #regrettablewritings #Star Wars imagine #Star Wars imagines #Me: I saw @seraphinativan at the DJevil's Sacrement #@Seraphinativan: Girl what were YOU doing at the DJevil's Sacrement?#Me: lol u got me

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elizabeethan · 3 years

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The Days We Defend (Will Turn To Gold)- Chapter 5

Everything is perfect, until it isn’t. Killian and Emma have spent months building a life together after finally defeating Neal and Gold, but when the Dark One dies and his power becomes untethered, everyone in Storybrooke is at risk, and some decisions may have lasting consequences.

Sequel to Walk With Me (I Think We’ll Find A Way)

Prologue, 1, 2, 3, 4

Read on Ao3

Thank you to my good pal @the-darkdragonfly for beta-ing for me!!!!!! You’ve been such a great help bringing this story to where it needs to be 🥲💗

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook

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Killian didn’t plan on staying here long. He’d hoped to find the book, find Emma, and break the curse.

It hasn’t worked out that way.

Each day he does the same mundane things: he wakes with a start alone in one of Granny’s rooms, realizes where the hell he is, has some form of tantrum that could likely rival his toddler’s, then goes about his cursed life. He eats breakfast at Granny’s, sometimes alone, and sometimes with Henry in secret, hashing out their plans. He works second shift at the docks, rolling his eyes inwardly each time Mr. Smee shouts an order at him. He visits with his daughter, but is never allowed to take her away from the dreadful place. He’s forced to call her Talia in front of the women who care for her.

It’s been three weeks of torture. Henry continues to insist that they need a plan to break the curse, and Killian insists that he already has one. He knows that during the first curse, Emma needed to believe in magic before True Love’s Kiss could break it, so that’s what he’ll ensure. He just isn’t sure how.

As it turns out, his non-plan hasn’t gotten them anywhere, so Henry has initiated Operation Rattlesnake. “I know who we have to find,” Henry says from across the booth, barely paying any mind to his breakfast.

“Aye?” Killian asks, stabbing his fork into his eggs. “Who's that?”

“The Sorcerer. There’s a few pages in here about Snow White and Prince Charming finding the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, and he removed any chance of darkness from their unborn child. If the Apprentice can do that, then the Sorcerer should be able to get rid of the Dark One, right?”

Killian drops his fork, cocking his head as he looks up at Henry and considers his words. He looks back down at the pages and sees an illustration Snow and Charming talking with a bearded old man. “Where did these pages come from?”

“What do you mean?”

He raises a brow and scratches behind his ear. “Were these pages in the book all along?”

Henry shrugs nonchalantly and says, “I don’t know. I’ve learned not to question when weird things happen to this book.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning, there are missing pages, too. Here,” he says, turning a few pages and then rotating the book to face Killian. He points at the seam at the center and says, “see? These were torn out. The story after my grandpa died. What happened there?”

Killian nods, noting the very real depiction of the death of the Dark One in the room behind his shop, followed conveniently by absolutely nothing. “And what of this story about Snow and Charming?”

“You mean my grandparents?” he asks with a smirk. “Seriously, who are they here?”

“Seriously, not telling,” Killian mumbles, stabbing into his sausage link. “Show me that one.”

He flips through the book some more until he turns back to the story of the King and Queen, then explains its premise. It had been prophesied that their child had the potential for great darkness, so they used the Apprentice’s powers to remove the darkness altogether, thus likely making Emma the great proprietor of light magic, as Regina calls her. “Interesting.”

“Maybe that’s why my mom is the Savior,” he suggests.

The lad may have a point; eradicating any chance of darkness from Emma would certainly bode well for her becoming the Savior. “Perhaps,” he agrees.

“You’re weird,” Henry says suddenly, and Killian looks at him in shock.

“You’re weird,” he argues childishly.

“I’m serious! Some things you’ll tell me about before the curse, but other things are off limits? How come?” He shrugs. “Who are my grandparents? Who’s the Dark One?”

“I’m not telling you who the Dark One is, Henry. You don’t need to know right now.”

“What about my grandparents?”

“They’re lovely,” he says, looking up and smirking at him.

“So you do know them!” he says too loudly. “Can I tell you who I think my grandma is?”

He sighs, turning his head back down and taking another bite of his breakfast before saying, “you can tell me, but I’m not going to confirm or deny it.”

“My teacher, Miss Blanchard.”

He chuckles at Henry’s determination and wit, having to do his best to not give away that he’s completely right. He wonders if he knew during the first curse. He thinks he must’ve. “Can I ask you something, lad?”

“Sure,” he strugs, taking another gargantuan bite of french toast.

“Why is it so important to you that you know these things? What would it change if you knew?”

He purses his lips and narrows his eyes, the same way Emma does when she’s thinking, then shrugs again. “I don't know. I guess I’ve just always been thinking about it and now that you’re telling me it’s real…” another shrug. “And plus, maybe if I knew, I could help more.”

‘You’ve been plenty help, Henry. Truly. I would likely be in much lower spirits if not for your being here.”

He snorts and looks down, refusing to make eye contact as any almost-14-year-old would. “I thought you were supposed to be fearsome. Are you this gross and sappy without curses?”

“Worse.”

They continue eating in silence, Henry clearly over the sappy moments with the man he doesn’t know is his step-father, until he decides to speak again, bringing the conversation back to his original goal to gain more information.

“Did Regina cast the curse?”

Killian sighs, telling him, “I don't know,” instead of answering clearly. It’s not entirely a lie— it could have realistically been Bae who cast this curse, although he doubts it. He does wonder how they would have managed to cast it, what with the need to sacrifice the heart of the thing they love most, but he’s sure he’ll get that answer once it’s broken.

“Is it the Dark Curse? Like the one in the book?”

“I suppose so.”

“What about my mom? I know you know her somehow. It’s pretty obvious that you’re obsessed with her.” He blushes fiercely, shrugging. “And then there’s Tal- I mean, Corrine. You said she’s your daughter, but who the hell is having babies with Captain Hook?”

He snorts slightly, looking up at the lad through his lashes and then reaching for his mug of coffee. “I can assure you, her conception was not planned,” he mumbles.

“Ew.”

“Once the curse is broken, lad, things will make sense. I’ve no desire to destroy your concept of reality any further.”

“What does that mean?” Killian shrugs. “Is it about my mom?” He shrugs again. He’s never felt so childish around an actual child. “Oh my god,” he starts. “Is she… no way. You didn’t… with my mom, did you? Is Corrine my… my sister?”

He’s silent for a moment, unwilling to make eye contact with the lad as the pieces begin to fall into place in his mind. “Henry…”

“You kissed my mom?!”

He clears his throat, scratching behind his ear, desperately trying to stop himself from informing the boy that he’d done far more than kiss his mom. He considers how much it would destroy Henry to learn that they actually happily live together. “It’s not exactly what you think, lad.”

“I think I have a secret, cursed sister and my mom kissed Captain Hook!” he says a bit too loudly. Killian’s eyes bug out of his head and he holds up his hand, waving it in front of Henry’s face.

“You sound like a madman, Henry!” Killian hisses. He can understand the lad being outraged by the idea of his mother being with anyone, but he’s going to get them thrown into the asylum if he keeps up his shouting.

“You had a baby with my mom!”

“Aye, I did. And we need to break this bloody curse so that I can bring my child and her mother home. Now focus and tell me what we need to do to get a hold of this Sorcerer.”

Henry looks nauseated. “You live together!?”

He sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as he leans forward to get Henry’s attention. “You live with us, most of the time. Now focus.” He hopes that giving him a task, a responsibility in solving their troubles, will help him to remain in high spirits. “You need to figure out how we find the Sorcerer. That’s how you can help me break the curse.”

“Ugh,” he says, shaking himself out. “I’ll check out some stuff from the library. I live with you?”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Killian grunts out, taking another swig from his mug and wishing desperately it was rum instead of coffee. “It only serves to distract you from Operation Rattlesnake.”

“Yeah, I don't think I want to know anymore,” he says with his face still screwed up in disgust. “I’ll meet you after school, usual spot.” Killian nods, placing some money on the table as Henry stands and walks out of the diner.

Despite his odd and confounding morning, Killian’s happy to finally have some semblance of a plan. Perhaps now, with Henry’s hunch that some Sorcerer can remove the darkness from Regina, breaking the curse will be easier. At least they’ll have an idea of what steps to take once it’s broken.

He anticipates having a somewhat good day, what with his plans to bring Emma to see Corrine once again. He’s found that the only source of joy over the last few weeks have been spending time with Henry, who allows him to speak freely about the curse (mostly), and seeing his daughter and her mother playing together as if they aren’t strangers to one another.

Each day that he spends time with Emma, he gets more information about her cursed life. She’s opened up to him quite easily and he continues to insist that she’s easy to read. It’s true that he has a lot of background knowledge on her already, but it’s also true that she’s always been an open book. He hopes that the more he talks to her, the more likely she is to remember her old life and perhaps long for it. Maybe that would be enough to make her believe Henry’s hunch.

Emma specified several times that, on the days that they go together to see Corrine, she’s only available during the afternoon, and she must always be home prior to dinner. Killian likes to see Corrine for lunch time so he can eat with her, then enjoy some playtime, so the schedule she insists upon works well. Several times a week, she meets him outside of Granny’s and they walk to the convent together, talking casually along the way.

In the days before this curse struck, Emma was distant. She struggled to open up to Killian unless they were in bed together, she was constantly on edge, anxious and angry, and she started to build her walls higher and higher each day. Walking along the streets with her now, it’s as if she’s a different person, and a part of him hates it. She's still closed off, but it’s in a different way. She trusts him, as she often tells him, but her made up experiences have vexed her. She’s not allowed to see her son without permission from Regina and Neal, the two people who should absolutely not have a say in when Emma sees her child.

She told him that she gave up Henry when the lad was born, but the reason she did it was because his father was sent to jail, and she didn’t think she could raise a baby alone. Neal found out about the adoption upon his release and reached out to Regina, then turned his life around and became the sheriff of the small coastal town. According to Baelfire and Regina’s reality, he made the noble choice and didn’t actually make Emma take the fall for his own crimes, then leave her pregnant in prison at seventeen years old. Rather, he found his son while Emma traipsed around Boston irresponsibly until Henry came to get her.

The Mayor is also beloved by all, apparently. Henry lives with her and visits his father frequently, so it would seem that their scheme worked. It also seems that Bae’s ploy to make everyone forget Killian worked based on his need to introduce himself to everyone he already knows, as if he truly is new in town. The only thing that makes no sense to Killian is the fact that Bae and Emma aren't together, at least it doesn't seem it. The entire situation makes him nauseous.

“Hello,” she greets as he walks out of the diner to meet her. She looks as beautiful as ever, in spite of the messiness to her hair and the shallowness in her face. She looks so stressed and tired, even though she seems happy enough, and he isn't sure what to make of that.

“Afternoon, love,” he says in return, stepping in time with her as they make stride towards the convent.

“So, tell me something,” she insists, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket and bumping her shoulder into his. “I feel like we’re always talking about my screwed up life.”

He chuckles. “And what would you like to know?”

“Why Talia?”

He rolls his eyes at her foolish made up name and says, “I had no say in naming her.”

She laughs. “No, I mean why her?”

Killian nods. He can't exactly tell her that he’s the child’s father and that Emma is her mother and Killian’s lover, so he thinks fast. “I believe I told you I knew her mother. I feel close to her, to both of them, when I see her.”

“Is that why you came to Storybrooke in the first place?”

“Uh,” he starts, clearing his throat. “I suppose so, yeah.”

“Is… um, is her mother coming back?”

He considers his answer carefully. He doesn't want to lie to her, but he also doesn't want to give her the impression that he’s unavailable or waiting around for someone who isn't her. Not that he suspects her to be anywhere near looking at him in that way, but he’d rather not chance in. “Not in this lifetime,” he settles upon, drawing a thoughtful hum from her.

“Well, I'm sorry she lost her mother,” she consoles, “and that you lost her, too. I’m sure she must've been important to you.”

He clears his throat again, scratching behind his ear as he considers how carefully he has to answer. How carefully he has to talk to her at all times. “Thank you. She is.”

When they arrive, the fairy escorts both him and Emma down to the communal room where Corrine is eating her lunch, and she smiles at him happily and tosses her cup down to the floor to reach for him excitedly. Before he can reach her, she’s starting to climb out of her seat just like she’d do at home, and she’s almost jumping by the time he catches her. It pains him to see her react so happily to him despite her not truly knowing who he is, though he wonders if a part of her remembers, just as it seems that a part of Emma trusts him inherently. He wonders if him being awake through the curse has anything to do with that. “Hello, darling,” he says as he lifts her into his arms and wipes her face with a damp disposable cloth.

“You're so good with her,” Emma points out as she takes a seat at the table, smiling at the lass joyously.

He smiles back, sitting across from Emma with Corrine in his lap. “She makes it easy, I suppose.” He doesn't miss the fact that the fairy hasn't left the room, continuing to watch him distrustfully.

“Hi!” she shouts to Emma, causing her to grin and blush as she leans towards the baby.

“Hello!”

Corrine reaches for her mother, making grabbing motions with her fat little fingers and grinning at her, and the sight squeezes his heart firmly. It took a few times meeting Emma for Corrine to fully warm up to her, confirming his thoughts that she’s under the curse as well, but now she’s comfortable with her. Part of him beams seeing the two of them sitting together once Emma stands to pick the babe up from his hold, but much of him tingles with pain and anger. It shouldn't be like this. Corrine shouldn't be spending any of her formative years not knowing that the woman she’s with is her mother.

They play with her after she’s finished her sandwich, filled with a strange mixture of fruity jam and peanut spread, and she looks so cute happily playing away with Emma. The fairy leaves the room eventually, which settles his nerves. He’s been here under this curse far longer than he thought he would be, so he knows he must stay in her good graces so that he can continue to see his daughter each day.

“Killian,” Emma starts, covering her eyes with her hands and then opening them up to shout boo! at Corrine.

“Boo!” Corrine says back, giggling as Emma tickles her belly.

“Aye?”

“Are you going to adopt her?”

He falters at her question, considering the meaning behind her words. What she means is that Killian isn’t her father here, and he would have to go through a tormenting legal system in order to officially claim a title that is already his.

He’s got to break this bloody curse.

“Dop!” Corrine says, grinning at Killian and pointing commandingly. “You, dop!”

“Yeah!” Emma agrees with a smile.

“I’m not sure,” he answers. “Perhaps I would.”

Blue summons them after two hours, coming to collect Corrine and see them off. Once she’s picked up by the fairy, she begins crying, reaching for Killian and Emma pathetically. He feels his own eyes filling with tears as he says goodbye and assures her that they’ll see her soon, although he knows she can’t fully understand.

He rushes from the area, desperate to remove himself and hopefully not drag out her tortured response to them leaving, and when they step towards the waiting area, they’re greeted by Henry. “Hey,” he says casually.

“Henry, you should be in school for another half hour, what are you doing here?” Emma asks frantically, guiding him out of the building towards the sidewalk and starting in the direction of the school.

“I actually came to see Killian, but I guess I should’ve known you guys would be here together,” he says with a repulsed look on his face.

“Lad, you can’t be here. You need to get back to school.”

“I didn’t—”

“Henry!”

The three of them turn towards the sound of a car door closing and are met with Bae stepping out of a patrol car and hurrying to them.

Emma groans beside her son and glances nervously towards Killian. “Neal,” she starts.

“Emma, what the hell? What are you doing? He has to be in school!”

“I know, I was just—”

“This is exactly the kind of decision that makes me not want to let you see him!”

“Mate,” Killian tries, but he’s cut off.

“Stay out of this, Jones.” He turns towards Emma and continues. “So, now you're spending all your time with the town drunk, is that it?”

“Neal, that isn’t fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is you choosing a guy over your kid’s best interest, again. Come on, Henry.”

“Dad—”

“I said come on.”

“Neal— Henry!”

“I’ll see you at home, Emma, if you even decide to bother.” Neal says with disappointment dripping from his voice. Home.

As she watches Henry walk away, turning back once to stare at her apologetically, he feels her tensing beside him despite the fact that they aren’t even touching. Her bottom lip quivers and she bites down on it hard to prevent it from wobbling too obviously, turning to him and looking into his eyes with her sad and tearful ones.

“Sorry about what he said,” she tells him dejectedly.

He shakes his head. “Do you… do you live with him, love?”

She nods, the face she gives him telling him he should have known. “Yeah, he took me in when I moved to Storybrooke.”

“Ah,” he nods. His anger hasn’t dissipated. The more he learns of her life here, the more he sees how much Bae and Regina have manipulated all of them, especially Henry and Emma. Emma, who has a lucrative career in her non-cursed life, is jobless and forced to live with her ex while he does her job. Emma, who is perhaps Henry's only fit parent, is being told that she needs permission to see her own son. Emma, the strongest person he’s ever known, has been reduced to some pathetic thing who needs saving. It’s cracking his resolve, but he knows he must pull himself back together for her sake. “I hadn’t realized.”

She sniffles, taking a few steps away from him and starting down the sidewalk as he swiftly follows. “After Henry found me, Neal took me in. But he found out about my past… I mean, I have a bit of a record. Not a big deal, but he sees it as an example of me making bad decisions.”

“What happened in your past?”

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “There was this guy, and he was just a bad influence. I was having trouble focusing on what’s important.”

“What, so he keeps an eye on you?” he scoffs. “Is that why you can only be out in the afternoon? Is that when he’s at the station?”

“It’s— no, it’s not like that.”

“Sorry. I realize that I’m overstepping, I apologize.” His voice was becoming vapid and he knew he needed to calm down. She shakes her head.

“No, it’s—” she stops herself from continuing, taking a deep breath and wrapping her arms tightly around herself as she walks. He wants to wrap his arms tightly around her. “It’s okay. I don't know why, but you're really easy to talk to. I mean, it’s easy to tell you stuff, even if it sucks.”

“You know you can, aye? Talk to me?”

She hums out a soft laugh and says, “yeah, I’m starting to see that.”

She stops walking to turn to him and smile, and he has a thought. He thinks she could kiss him right now— he would love to kiss her right now. But he wonders what implications that would have on the curse. Is he naive to think that what they have could be True Love? Does her cursed self have enough love for him to break the curse?

He doesn’t get the chance to test his theory. As her eyes start fluttering and she leans towards him, he reaches his prosthetic hand up towards her cheek and leans in but is interrupted by her phone ringing.

“Hello?” Emma asks into the phone, and he groans, wanting to press his forehead to hers but resisting the urge.

“Miss Swan,” Regina says, cluing Killian in to exactly who’s on the other end.

She groans quietly as well, separating herself from him and rolling her eyes in his direction, “madam mayor, hello.”

“What’s going on with Henry?” she asks, completely ignoring the greeting. “His father said he was with you rather than in school?”

“News travels fast,” Killian remarks under his breath.

“Miss Swan,” she says pointedly before Emma could answer her. “Need I remind you that your poor choices reflect poorly on any consideration we have for you seeing my son?”

“No, Regina, it wasn’t—”

“I really must insist that you take Henry into account when you choose who you surround yourself with.”

“I do! I always take Henry into account—”

“I hate to say this, Miss Swan, but you’re not doing a very good job at proving that. I suggest you consider your actions further, or this unsanctioned visit with Henry will be your last.”

She hangs up the phone before Emma even has a chance to argue with her.

Her bottom lip starts to wobble again and her eyes bug out twice their size and glass over in response to Regina’s abusive words. “Love,” he tries, but she pulls away, walls up, and starts walking again.

“Swan!” he calls after her as he runs to catch up.

“I can’t do this!” she shouts. “I can’t keep putting up with this! All I want is to see my son.”

“Swan,” he says again, softly as he takes her hand in his boldly.

“Everyone says I should just give up. Maybe they’re right.”

“No, love, that isn’t true.”

“All I want is for him to have a good life,” she says through her tears. “That obviously isn’t with me. It feels like everything I do is a strike against me, no matter what my intentions are. I think I might have to just go back to Boston.”

He pulls her hand until she stops walking and turns towards him. “You can’t, Emma.”

“Why?”

“Don’t let them dictate what you do. You’re Henry’s mother, no matter what anyone says.”

“Everyone says it. No one gets why I’m even here; Henry already has a mom. He doesn't need two.”

It’s crushing him to hear his Swan talk this way. She’s so defeated and he doesn't think he’s ever seen her so wilted and weak. Part of Regina’s curse must have been to punish Emma for not letting her see Henry, and if that were the case, he would say she’s succeeding. “Emma Swan, we will find a way to beat this,” he promises her.

She sniffles, her breath catching, and she looks up at him with watery eyes and rosy cheeks. “You think so?”

“I’ve yet to see you fail.”

She narrows her eyes again, cocking her head in thought as she considers his words. He wonders if she’s thinking back to three years ago when he said the exact same thing while she was searching for her son in Neverland, but he doubts it.

“I just… ” she sighs.

“Let me get you a hot chocolate.”

She draws her brows together and sighs, clearly downtrodden as she nods weakly and draws herself away from him. If this was really his Emma, he would take her in his arms and hug her close to him, but he doesn't dare do that now. “Okay,” she says softly, turning away and walking towards Granny’s.

When they arrive, she sits herself so heavily on the booth that he thinks she may break it. He orders a hot chocolate for her and a donut for himself, wishing he could rip a few pieces off and share them with Corrine, and hands her the mug as he sits down.

“I just…” she sighs heavily. “Henry keeps telling me something’s wrong, you know? And a part of me believes him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, every time I talk to him it’s like he’s trying to convince me that something is… off. He’s always talking about his book and showing me stories in it, but it’s like he’s trying to convince me to believe that the stories are… like…”

“Real?”

She sighs, shrugging. “Can I tell you something?” Her voice is so timid that he can barely hear her in the bustling diner.

“Of course, darling.”

“Sometimes… sometimes when Henry talks about his curse and how we’re all fairytale characters…” she shrugs once again, “I don't know. It just feels like it could be real sometimes. I almost want it to be real.”

His heart starts racing and his palms begin to sweat at her words. “How do you mean?” he asks, hoping to encourage her to say more and perhaps stir up some memories.

“Just that I think life would be a lot easier if… if I was a character in a fairytale.”

“Aye, perhaps it would.”

She nods, not looking up from her mug as she continues. “It just feels like anything I do is the wrong thing. I have the worst luck. And, just… my life sucks,” she laughs. “This can’t be all there is.”

Rather than argue with her, as he so desperately wants to, he tries to lighten the mood just a bit. “You know, if the curse were true, that would mean that you would be the person to break it,” he points out.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes and smiling falsely. “There's no possible reality where I am a Savior. How the hell would I even break it?”

It becomes clear that, while she may not have lost her belief in the possibility of magic, she’s lost her belief in herself. “Why, True Love’s Kiss, of course,” he says triumphantly with a grin shot her way. It doesn’t go over quite as he wanted it to.

She rolls her eyes once more. “No one loves me, Killian. It doesn't matter who I love or how hard I try; no one can ever love me back.”

“That isn’t true,” he shakes his head, taking her hands in his and pulling them off of her mug until she finally looks up into his eyes. He can’t tell her that he loves her so he says, “it isn’t true, Emma.”

He’s never seen her like this. She’s completely defeated and overcome with a sense of failure that he thinks he might burst if this damn curse doesn’t get broken soon. He can tell that he’s close, but every second spent is a second too long.

“You’re…” she starts, glancing down but then right back up into his eyes. “You’re something else. Very intense,” she laughs awkwardly.

“Aye, I suppose I am.”

“I’m not really used to,” she waves her fingers around in front of his face, “all that.”

He smiles sadly at her, boldly taking her hand in his a squeezing, and says, “I think you may get used to it, love.”

She nods slowly and doesn’t pull her hand away. “Yeah.”

#the days we defend #walk with me #sequel #days we defend ff #cs ff #captain swan fanfic #once upon a time fanfic #ouat ff #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan

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softbiker · 4 years

Text

Steve Rogers Oneshot

Warnings: language, attempted sexual assault and harassment, mentions of past sexual assault and harassment - do not read if these situations are triggering for you.

Word count: 6.1k - am I capable of writing anything short anymore???

A/N: HI I’M FINALLY BACK AND POSTING SOMETHING FOR THE FIRST TIME IN ALMOST 3 MONTHS WOW. This story continues the Agent 14 series (so definitely check that out in my masterlist if you’re not familiar!) and...it’s something I’ve had on my mind for a while. I just needed to get it out. I hope that you like it and please share what you think! Feedback is appreciated!

When her phone starts buzzing, she’s mid-swing at the faded sandbag hanging from the ceiling.

She’s glad to have the place to herself - the dusty air and stale silence more of a comfort. A bead of sweat slides down her temple, itching past her ear, and her finger scratches at the spot absently, coming away salty wet. There’s sweat slicking her scalp, too; she feels it under the tight twist of her braids, heat trapped beneath the strands. Her dirty little basement gym - faded posters lining the walls, advertising fights long finished, flickering bulbs hanging from the ceiling, stained linoleum - is quiet in the mornings. A kind of quiet that is all too rare in the city, in her life.

Sure, it was nice of Sam to continue inviting her on their morning runs - she has every intention of taking him up on his offer, when she finally gets off the opening shift at work. She sees his 4 a.m. offers a couple times a week, shooting back a quick response that she’s already up, heading in to open the cafe. He finds it all so funny; calls her “Agent Barista”, and endearingly teases her about her rigorous coffee training at the SHIELD Academy.

Okay but real talk, 14 - what’s your top secret mission down at Starbucks? Pinged her phone as she brushed her teeth and concealed undereye circles with strategic swipes of makeup.

Key word in your question is “top secret”, Wilson. As in, tell you but I’d have to kill you. You know the drill.

Another ping. Yeah, yeah. Y’all agents talk a good game, but I know for a fact 41 can be bought with a box of See’s candies. Just gotta figure out your weakness.

Good luck.

No luck needed. I’ll bring a couple sweaty super soldiers your way around 8:30, you’re welcome.

With a wrapped hand, she flicks one swinging braid back over her shoulder, turning to her duffel bag for her phone. It’s buried under a spare pair of socks and a sports bra she forgot to wash, still buzzing as she grasps it and flips the screen upwards in her hand.

Unknown caller.

She’d bet every cent to her name that she could guess who was on the other end of the line. Tongue pressed against her teeth, she dismisses the call and drops her phone back in her bag. Fury can wait.

Turning back to the sandbag, she sucks a quick breath through her nose, curling power in her lean shoulders, and then unleashes a furious combination of jabs and kicks on the beaten plastic. Grunts and harsh pants slip past her lips, fists slinging blow after punishing blow, her weight held bouncing on the balls of her feet. The sandbag is a stoic opponent, taking her fists and feet without so much as a groan of protest, swinging back only a few inches on the chain even as she whips around high for a roundhouse kick. Growling, she rocks her weight back on her heels, before leaping forward off one leg to drive her knee into the bag with bruising force. More to herself than the bag, she thinks, glancing down at the tender skin on her bare knee, stinging from the impact. She leans an elbow against the bag and drops her head, swiping at the baby hairs along her forehead.

The phone buzzes again, insistent and muffled, and she lets her head drop back with a heavy sigh, eyes closed.

“Shut up,” she mutters, eyes narrowing in a nasty glare at the offending noise.

“I didn’t say anything.”

She whirls at the sound, fists raised - she hadn’t even heard him enter.

Steve has the good grace to look sheepish as he approaches from a shadowed staircase in the corner of the room, his hands raised in surrender. Not many people have had the sheer dumb luck - and misfortune - of sneaking up on her, and the part of her brain not whiplashed by adrenaline grudgingly admires him for it.

“Morning, Captain,” 14 sighs, her hands falling to her hips, rolling her neck against the tension in her shoulders.

“Morning,” he smiles. He’s trimmed back the beard, she notices, closer to the sharp line of his jaw. Dust motes swirl around his golden head like fairy dust as he passes through the puddles of light cast from the weak overhead bulbs. It strikes her then, the unassuming slope of his shoulders, a little shuffle in his gait, not quite lifting his feet from the ground. Not a strut, no stalking or preening like the SHIELD boys she came up at the Academy with, eager to throw their weight around. Somehow, despite his height, he manages to duck his head, to look up at her under a fringe of enviable dark lashes. Disarming and soft, a wayward blond strand falling over his forehead, he tucks his hands into his pockets, standing just a few feet away from her. He nods at the hanging sandbag behind her.

“Gave that thing quite a beating,” he says, tilting a dark eyebrow. She shrugs one shoulder.

“Looked at me funny,” she quips back, still catching her breath from the last bout. Her tongue swipes at a drop of sweat on her upper lip. Sniffing, she turns her gaze down to the wrapping on her hands. “I don’t recall inviting you, Rogers - I thought this was a private session.”

“Sorry for intruding,” he says, scrunching his nose and swiping at the errant lock of hair hanging before his eyes. With a jerk of his chin, he gestures towards her gym bag, where her phone has gone blessedly silent. “Fury had a feeling you would, um, how does Sam say it…’shady button’ him?”

She snorts in spite of herself, just managing to slap a hand over her mouth before her laugh becomes obnoxious. Even in the dim light of the fluorescents, she can see the high flush creeping up those scruffy cheeks. Steve rubs the back of his neck, a familiar embarrassment curling in his belly; it’s a joke the team plays sometimes, and he gets it, he really does. Gotta laugh at your CO sometimes - it brings the team together; so he drops little phrases here and there, incongruous slang with his pleated slacks and old-fashioned manners. Even things that Sam says - the word “fam”, or adding “ass” as a suffix to virtually any word - from Steve’s mouth, they’re suddenly enough to have the team rolling with laughter, Tony red-faced, Wanda close to tears. The tips of his ears burn, and he always acts put out, lowers his stern father brows, but if there’s one thing he learned as a Brooklyn-born punk, it’s how to take his punches.

“Oh, I’m sorry - I’m sorry,” 14 says, hand still half-covering the silly grin tugging at her mouth. “It just sounded so funny coming from you. It was like-”

“Kinda like if your dad were saying it?” Steve purses his lips, tilts his head to the side.

“Oh god…yes, that’s exactly it.” It ignites a fresh burst of giggles, though she scrunches her nose and shakes her head at the image. “Uh, just do us both a favor and don’t say that again.”

“I don’t think you can restrict Captain America’s freedom of speech.” He lifts his eyebrows, playful, considering. The slope of his nose casts a long shadow across his cheek, skin like Irish cream. She rolls her eyes, turning away to her duffel bag, using her teeth to tug at the wrappings on her hands.

“So. You’re Nick’s new personal assistant or something?” Dropping to the bench, she rummages through her gym bag and takes a long gulp from her water bottle. She swipes at her phone screen - 3 missed calls now.

Steve shrugs.

“I volunteered,” he says simply, large knuckles still visible where they stay curled in his pockets. “Thought…hoped I might have better luck.”

She licks her lower lip, chasing a coveted drop of water. It’s not as though she’s tired of the job - it varies so much, from one day to the next, that it makes boredom impossible. No, it’s not the job, she’s just…tired. Of what, or why, she can’t really say. Steve is patient. He doesn’t say anymore, just waits, standing a few feet away and shifting his weight from one leg to the other, his soft eyes watchful. Her fingers go to her shoulders, massaging the oncoming ache in her muscles.

“What’s the mission?”

**********

“You need some help there, punk?” Bucky leans a hip against the doorframe, arms crossed over his beloved NASA hoodie, an amused twitch tugging at the corner of his mouth. Across the room, Steve frowns at him in the mirror.

“Never really got the hang of these damned things,” Steve huffs, fingers losing the knot on his bowtie and sighing again as the cloth falls loose from the crisp collar of his shirt. Hands falling to his narrow hips, he turns to Bucky, wearing a look of defeat rarely seen on Steve Rogers.

Wordlessly, Bucky shuffles across the carpet and begins to knot the offending fabric, fingers of metal and flesh looping one strand over the other and back again. Chin lifted, brows furrowed, a marble bust of martyrdom, Steve is ever stoic while he works.

“Thought you were gonna shave for this,” Bucky comments, his voice quiet, not lifting his eyes from the tie. Steve makes a dissenting noise from his throat.

“Yeah, well, the beard makes it easier to keep a low profile,” he says, a hand reaching up to rub his whiskers absentmindedly. “And besides, I’m sort of attached to it now.”

Bucky chuckles, a smile dimpling his own scruffy cheeks.

“Know what you mean - God, but nobody looked like this when we were kids, ya know?” He steps back, finished with the tie, and gives Steve an appraising nod, pursing his lips. “Not too bad, Rogers, not too bad.”

Raising a dubious brow, Steve turns back to the mirror, tugging at the sleeves and adjusting his shoulders in the tux. Strictly white tie - totally out of his element, but sometimes duty comes with a dress code. He wedges a thick finger between the starched white collar and his own tender skin.

“In this get up?” Steve shakes his head. “Never did get used to wearing a monkey suit.”

Tongue in his cheek, Bucky grins.

“Have you seen yourself in your uniform?”

Steve flings a fist back behind him, grinning triumphantly when his hit lands in Bucky’s gut; a metal fist swings in retaliation, but Steve manages to sidestep, his hands raised in quick surrender.

“Hey, not too rough,” he says, tamping down a mischievous smile. “Tony will have my head if I ruin another one of these.”

“Tony could buy you one for every day of the week,” Bucky scoffs, rolling his eyes.

A knock on the doorframe makes them both turn.

It’s been years now, since he met Natasha - wind whipping up familiar curls on the deck of the helicarrier, a watchful smile, wolves’ teeth hidden under a lamb-soft face. Even later, when he learned to trust her, he always found himself surprised at her startling contrasts, the ease with which she managed to be two things at once; ally and spy, friend then enemy then family. In truth, she was testing him. They both knew. Years of probing, disguised as teasing and sarcasm and near-insubordination - assessing his strength, his weakness, the man behind the shield. And after all this time, it was his steadiness at each of her own turns that pacified her, let her learn to lean on him in return.

She smiles in the doorway now, her bright hair swept sleek behind her ears, revealing diamond teardrop earrings, probably on loan from Tony’s collection. The tips of her hair just brush her pale, bare shoulders, revealed by the strapless neckline of her jumpsuit. Black was always her signature color - never dull, though, because with Nat black is a spectrum, a rainbow refracted through her prism: intimidating, alluring, powerful, subtle.

“You clean up good, Rogers,” she smirks, her hands tucked into her pockets as she gives him a look of approval. “Keeping the beard, though?”

Steve’s hand idly brushes against his trimmed whiskers.

“It’s grown on me,” he admits. “And besides, I’ve got too much of a baby face without it.”

“Some girls like that.”

“Some guys like that,” Bucky adds, waggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, well,” Steve rubs the back of his neck, willing down the flush that crept up at his friends’ praise. “I’m not supposed to be the bait tonight.”

“No, I guess that’s my job.” Another voice appears behind Nat, her head peaking around Nat’s shoulder as she steps forward to share the space in the doorway.

Unbidden, Steve feels his mouth fall open. He always thought she was beautiful, from the first time he saw her, no makeup and the sleeves of her sweater splashed with coffee and mocha sauce; this morning, in the dusty half-light of the basement gym, sweat gleaming on her forehead and arms. But he wasn’t prepared to see her like this, glowing in his doorway, draped in a pink silk slip that exposed one of her thighs. She’d let her hair loose from it’s tight braids, her makeup bringing a dewy sheen to her cheeks - she looked…fresh, blooming like a rose. A clean swipe of red across her lips, almost an afterthought, as if she couldn’t be bothered to make more effort than that. Steve swipes his suddenly sweaty palms against his thighs and clears his throat.

“Um, wow,” he says, wincing at his own voice, which nearly gave an embarrassingly pubescent crack. “I mean, you…uh, you look great.”

“Better than great,” Bucky pipes up, the amused tilt to his mouth the only hint that he enjoys Steve’s embarrassment. “She looks beautiful.”

Nat nods in agreement.

“The dress is perfect for you - is it one of Stark’s?” she asks. 14 shakes her head, modestly gesturing to the gown with her hand.

“I’ve had it for a little while actually, I just couldn’t pass it up,” she sighs. “Just haven’t had the chance to wear it.”

“Well, we’re finally gonna put some miles on it,” Natasha smiles, her eyes cutting to Steve, who has clamped his jaw shut to prevent himself from saying more. “We all ready? Happy’s pulling the car around.”

14 nods, a shy smile tilting her mouth as she spares a glance at Steve before moving to follow Nat down the hall. She turns, and he sees that the cut of her dress falls low against the small of her back - almost low enough to glimpse the sweet dimples at the base of her spine. When they’re out of the doorway, he feels Bucky’s eyes on him - he’s perched on the edge of the bed, chewing his lip, one eyebrow lifted in an all-knowing look. He opens his mouth to speak but Steve lifts a hand.

“Don’t,” Steve cuts him off. “I know what you’re gonna say Buck, but just- don’t.”

Bucky lifts his hands in surrender, standing from the bed and walking over to where Steve still stands in the middle of his room.

“Fine, I won’t say a damn word,” Bucky sighs, shuffling across the thick carpet. He slaps his friend on the shoulder, gripping Steve with a firm hand. “Except you better move your ass instead of standing there like a dud - didn’t I tell you not to keep a lady waiting, Rogers?”

**********

Sam had whistled playfully as she glided out of the elevator on Steve’s arm, his eyebrows lifting halfway up his forehead.

“Damn, girl - almost didn’t recognize you without your apron,” he winked, his gap-toothed grin charming as ever.

“Didn’t match my shoes,” she winked back, flicking her hair over her shoulder. It sent a wave of her perfume drifting upwards; something bright and sweet, neroli, he thought, or orange blossom - maybe a hint of coconut. He had licked his lips without thinking; he’d like to smell it again, just to be sure.

Here, in this stuffy ballroom across town, with eager officials and bourgeois brats trying to rub elbows with Captain America, he finds the smell much less appealing. Sweat and ambition, excess and greed, all covered in layers of atelier cologne (eau de aristocratie) and - well, Bucky heard enough of his socialist soapbox speeches back in the day, and his views certainly haven’t changed much.

Still, he makes polite small talk with his admirers, rubs elbows, accepts drinks, all the while keeping one eye on the far corner of the room. It’s quiet, secluded, an overstuffed chaise with a soft cover tucked away from the buzz of the main dance floor. She’s perched there, ankles coquettishly crossed, the side slit of her dress revealing one leg and her glittering open-toed shoes; she leans on one arm, tilting her head towards the target, charming smile drawing up her lips as she hangs on his every word. Or pretends to, anyway. The target seems not to know the difference: Robbie Sinclair, a middle-aged man with the tanned smile of a Kennedy, salt and pepper hair slicked back from his face with a boyish cowlick escaping near the front, grins confidently as he talks to her. Steve watches him preen and puff his chest, spreading his legs to take up far more space than he needs. He stretches one arm along the back of the couch, leaning closer than appropriate, but she doesn’t move away.

He doesn’t like this, any of it. To be fair, he’d never been a big fan of the espionage facet of his job; much to Nat’s chagrin, subtlety and subterfuge were not Steve’s strong suits. If he had his way, they’d come in swinging and arrest this creep (and his insider-trading Wall Street buddies, too). But shooting from the hip wouldn’t work here, not when they still needed hard evidence on this guy, something more substantial than rumors - heavy as those rumors might be, words like “human trafficking” and “slavery” coming up in his SHIELD files. He understood the necessity, and so did 14.

Still, bringing her here and dangling her like a worm on a hook, hoping this asshole would take the bait…his stomach churned, whiskey bubbling unpleasantly at the thought. Steve angles his body around a chatty senator, trying to maintain his view on the corner. Sinclair looks about ready to take a bite, his head bent close to 14’s, sly smirk plastered on his face as he whispers something in her ear. Did her fist tighten around her glass? He can’t quite tell from this distance; he knows his own fingers are white-knuckled on his third whiskey. Or was it the fourth?

In a blink, a stumble, a minute trapped in choked small talk with Miss New York (during which he wondered if her real teeth were filed down like a shark’s underneath that crown-winning smile like Sam told him), he’s lost her.

A snowy static of panic whites out his brain, and his heart picks up against his ribcage as he all but shoves the beauty queen out of his way, his vision tunneling on the now-empty chaise in the corner. Where did she go? Where would she go? Barely managing subtlety know, he ducks his head, speaking to the comm device in his ear.

“Natasha. Do you have eyes on them?”

“…no, I was doing a sweep of the terrace outside,” she answers a moment later. “Did you lose them?”

Steve turns a circle where he stands, sharp eyes scanning each face and failing to find the one he wants to see.

“They’re gone, I’ve lost visual.” He tries to keep his voice down, his tone tight and clipped. Through a break in the crowd, he thinks he catches a glimpse of her dress, but when he looks again it’s the wrong color, the wrong dress, the wrong woman-

“Alright, I’m heading back inside - I’ll go up the stairs to the next floor, see if they went up that way.”

“Okay, I’ll take this floor,” Steve says, already making a beeline for the open doors of the ballroom, his tight-laced dress shoes clicking a solitary echo in the cavernous hallway just outside. Past the doors, and the gazes of nosy party-goers, he doubles his pace - the stiff starched tux protesting against the movement.

They’re not tucked into the alcoves along this hallway, and he deliberates a moment where the hall forks in opposite directions, before darting to the left and continuing his clipped jog. In a small part of his brain, he knows he shouldn’t be this concerned about her. 14 was an agent - a highly trained, highly skilled agent; he’d worked with her enough by now to know firsthand how well she could handle herself. But the other part of him couldn’t shake the way Sinclair had looked at her - the way every man in the room had looked at her when she walked in, circling and waiting for their chance to close in. Not to mention the less-than-sterling reputation of Robbie Sinclair, who, aside from the trafficking conspiracy that put SHIELD on his scent, had a handful of secretaries threaten him with harassment suits, before they were quietly paid to keep their mouths shut.

He comes to a dead end, a dancing nymph statue (far too baroque for his taste) mocking him with her tambourine against her hip. Doubling back, he curses under his breath and runs through the building schematics in his head, wondering where they could have slipped away to so quickly.

“Natasha? Any luck?”

“Negative. You?”

“No.” Steve clenches his fists and tries to force his heart back down from where it’s climbed up into his throat. His teeth grind together, jaw locked tight, holding in a frustrated growl. Unprompted, a wave of worst-case scenarios floods his mind - 14 dragged away by thugs, knocked unconscious, bleeding and gagged, unable to call for help. She’s a good agent. A good soldier. She can handle this. Try as he might to force them away, the tide of panic swells over and over inside him, the voice of his intuition telling him something must have gone wrong-

Behind him, an elevator dings.

Steve turns to see the ancient metalwork door rattle open, Agent 14 stumbling out half a moment later.

He blinks. She’s lost her shoes - no, she’s carrying them, the straps dangling from one hand. The side slit of her dress looks higher, and he notices the frayed edges along the top where the fabric has ripped. Her lipstick is smudged, her hair mussed, and she takes labored, panting breaths as she leans against the wall.

It takes him a while to understand what he’s looking at. As his panic starts to ebb, something different, something wounded and green threatens to perch in its place, at the sight of her so disheveled, with swollen lips and rumpled clothes. He says nothing; he has nothing to say, shocked as he is by the bitter taste of his own thoughts, wondering if a rendezvous with Sinclair was worth the information she might have gained.

It’s not until she starts sniffling that he notices the tears running down her cheeks.

The realization stops him cold, strangles the dark seed of doubt just starting to sprout in his heart, and fills him with shame and guilt. He takes a step forward. She’s not looking at him.

“…14? Are you okay?” he asks, his voice hushed. “Are you hurt?” There were no visible wounds that he could see, though she had limped a little when coming out of the elevator.

She nods, sniffing again.

“I’m-I’m fine,” she says, her voice scraping in her throat, barely holding back a sob. Squeezing her eyes shut, she presses a hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent tears.

In two steps he’s at her side, though unsure of what to do, what would be appropriate, what she wants or needs. Were they…friends? Acquaintances? Colleagues? Do work friends hug, comfort each other?

“Can you tell me what happened?” he ventures softly, still not touching her, not crowding. He holds back a few inches, waiting, his hands feeling empty and heavy at his sides. “Do you want to?”

She nods, but it takes a few moments before she has regained her composure enough to lower her hand from her mouth and take a few rattling breaths, preparing to speak.

“He…h-he,” she stutters over a sob, like a child who’s cried too hard for too long. “He grabbed me and-and was kissing me, and then he tried,” she’s interrupted by a hiccup and a shaky sigh. “He tried to…to…”

She raises her eyes to his, tears welling up again, and shakes her head. She can’t say it, won’t say it - it is too much. It will make it real.

For his part, Steve barely restrains himself from blacking out with rage. His jaw is so tight he can feel his teeth nearly crack from the strain, fists curled but unsatisfied with not being wrapped around Sinclair’s neck. How dare he? How dare anyone? When he gets his hands on this goddamned son of a bitch, he’ll-

His vengeful train of thought is interrupted when she collapses against his chest with a sob, gripping the lapels of his jacket for support. On instinct he wraps his arms around her, caging her in, his chin resting on top of her head.

“I’m sorry - I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he hushes her and holds her, wishing there was more he could do, more he could say. He holds himself back from other platitudes, from it’s okay, and everything’s alright - he knows it’s not true.

She shakes and cries and rides out the storm in his arms, full of anger and fear and shame and helplessness; all the while, he stands silent and solid, murmuring soothing words his mother might have said - in another life, when someone held him, protected him.

Neither of them knows how much time has passed when her sobs become less violent, when her breathing calms, but she doesn’t step away. Her head doesn’t move from its place on his chest, and he makes no sign of wanting it to. Gently, slowly, he rocks her in his embrace, one hand smoothing over her back.

After a while, she speaks.

“I’m so tired,” she whispers. From this angle, he can see her blink slowly, tear tracks drying on her cheeks. He nods.

“You’re coming down from the adrenaline - that’s normal,” he murmurs, letting her weight sag against him, wondering if he’ll need to carry her.

“No,” she shakes her head. “Not like that…that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean?”

She doesn’t answer, not right away; her breathing has settled into an easier rhythm, less frenzied and panting. Her fingers slide from their place at his chest to rest around his waist.

“When I was in high school, there was this guy.” Her voice startles him when she finally speaks again, she’s been silent for so long. He makes a noise to let her know he’s listening before she goes on. “He was…I don’t know. Popular, I guess. Cute. Football player. Advanced classes. All the girls liked him.” She takes a shuddering breath before forging ahead. “And-and I guess he liked me because he couldn’t leave alone for a single fucking minute.

“God, it was constant. He’d grab my ass, or say dirty things about me to other guys…sometimes it wasn’t even sexual, it was like…he’d squeeze my waist or pinch the fat on the back of my arms and comment about my weight.” She sniffs, and Steve tightens his arms around her, not speaking. “One time, between classes, he grabbed me by the hips and bent me backwards over a desk - he wouldn’t let go, and he was just laughing…and no one said anything, none of the guys or my friends or anybody.”

Steve frowns, feeling impotent and frustrated. “I’m so sorry.” She shakes her head again.

“The worst thing is I just put up with it. I didn’t say anything…I didn’t think, I didn’t know-” she huffs a bitter laugh. “I guess I just thought it was flirting. Like I should’ve been flattered by it.”

“You shouldn’t - you don’t have to take that,” Steve says, fighting to control his tone. “Not from anyone.”

“I know that now,” she says. “But I was just a kid…nobody told me. Nobody helped me.”

He opens his mouth, tries to think of something to say, but she goes on.

“And nobody told me that it never gets better, it never changes.” He can feel how tightly her fists are clenched at his sides. “No one told me that this would be the rest of my fucking life. First it was him, and old men at the gas station where I got snacks after school, and truck loads of frat boys following me home. Jesus even the damn milk guy at the café calls me ’sexy’ and won’t leave me alone.” She sniffles again, voice tightening with anguish. “I’m tired, I’m so tired - I’m so fucking sick of all of it…of-of just being a thing, I’m tired of being looked at, and-” She tries to swallow back her sob, but it crests and stutters in her lungs, taking over her voice once again as she presses her face impossibly closer.

It breaks his heart and stokes his rage, the helpless, hopeless weight of her bitter words. Here he is, over a century old, and still watching people fight the same battles; battles to be heard, to be seen, to be treated like humans. He’d seen it all his life, women like his mother, like Peggy, spines of steel and hearts made of diamonds, resisting a world that would grind them down and make them small. He wishes his shield were wider, stronger. He wishes he could protect them from this.

“I can’t tell you it’s okay,” he murmurs. “Because it’s not. It’s not okay, I’m so sorry.” She squeezes his waist gratefully and nods her head a little. “But you…you don’t ever have to feel alone in this, okay?” He leans back a little, prompting her to lift her head, to meet her tear-bright eyes. “You’re not alone. I promise.”

It’s not enough. It’s not over. But today, for now, it feels like something.

**********

Natasha pages Happy, who pulls the car around to the front of the building. She says nothing as 14 limps down the front steps, shoes in hand, one arm linked with Steve’s and wearing his jacket, the too-long sleeves covering her hands. Nat’s eyes slide up to his - their silent exchange lasts moments, microseconds; her lips pinch tightly and her elegant white fists curl tight.

Happy holds the door, offering a hand as 14 drops inside, folding her legs and wrapping her torn skirt as tight as she can around the exposed length of her legs. Nat glances at the open door of the car and steps away, angling her back to the patient Happy. She juts her chin at Steve.

“You need a hand, Rogers?” He knows the look in her eyes is mirrored in his own - the look of a boxer stepping in the ring, of a lion sighting prey, a shark scenting blood.

Steve shakes his head, a hand reaching up to loosen his tie.

“No, it’s alright. You go on with 14.”

Happy peaks his head around.

“You don’t want me to wait for you, Cap?” he frowns. “I can keep the car running.”

Steve glances over Nat’s shoulder at the town car, where 14 has curled up in the backseat, and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows.

“Nah. I need to have a word with Mr. Sinclair.”

**********

The arrest doesn’t make the front page. Or any page of the papers, in fact. Robbie Sinclair wakes in a hospital bed, in SHIELD custody, and ready to make deals with anyone who will bargain - provided his security detail keeps him well away from the Avengers and their Captain.

When the file crosses his desk, courtesy of Natasha, he notices the long list of names Sinclair has provided them with - powerful men, Wall Street and Capitol Hill’s finest, who found their positions one dirty handshake at a time. It would take some time to build a case against them all, find sufficient evidence for arrests, but SHIELD was up for the task. There’s a note in the back of the file, a small article someone has attached with a paperclip.

‘Executive’s Secretaries Speak Out’ reads the headline, with the subtext ‘Sinclair accused of sexual harassment, assault’. It appears a few women who had crossed his path were tired of being silenced; they had banded together, sharing pain and courage, to finally see him brought to justice. And combined with the charges SHIELD was bringing against him, it was unlikely he’d step foot outside of a prison for the next couple of decades.

It’s a start.

A few days later, Steve rises before the sun, a creature of habit. He takes his run alone, listening to a podcast that Sam had recommended. By 5:30, he’s stretching at the bench in front of the tower, before making his way down the street to the coffee shop.

She does a double take when she sees him, surprise and (he hopes) excitement creeping up in her smile. There’s only a couple of baristas in the store at this time - they haven’t hit their peak yet - and she’s wiping down the bar in front of the espresso machines by herself.

“Morning, Cap,” she smiles. There are tired little circles under her eyes. She looks beautiful. “You want your usual?”

“Hmmm,” he pretends to think, narrowing his eyes at the menu. “Actually…how about you surprise me.”

She raises her brows, a little impressed. “You sure? Anything goes?”

“Anything - I promise I’ll try it.”

“Alright,” she smirks, mischievous and much too eager, and she turns away from the espresso machines to the blenders behind her.

Milk, syrup, ice - other ingredients he can’t see or identify, all thrown into the pitcher and blended. She leans against the counter as the machine whirs loudly, a cheeky smile dimpling her cheeks. Just as the machine stops, the bell above the door chimes, both of them turning to look.

A small, wiry, white-haired man backs his way into the store, pulling a dolly stacked high with milk crates. He looks around, making sure he’s not backing into anyone, and catches sight of her behind the counter. Steve doesn’t like the look of his smile, or the way 14 ducks back down to her blender, her shoulders inching upwards.

“Morning, sweetheart,” the man says, a bit too loud, rattling the crates on his dolly as he wheels around tables, towards the back of house.

“Morning,” 14 replies coolly, not looking up from where she’s carefully lining Steve’s cup with mocha sauce. She doesn’t say anything more, keeping her head down as she pours out the drink and reaches for a canister of whipped cream. Steve’s eyes cut between them, his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

The milk man hustles back through the store with an empty dolly, on his way to collect the next load of crates, and 14 sighs a little when the bell chimes on his way out. She’s just turning around to hand Steve his drink, when she notices that the café is empty - he must have slipped out as well.

“Hey, pal,” Steve claps a hand on the man’s shoulder, consciously withholding his full force. “I was wondering - you usually deliver the milk here?”

“Yeah,” the man huffs, a little confused, and in a hurry to unload his crates. He squints, the rising sun in his eyes. “Why?”

“Oh, I just wanted to talk to you for a second, that’s all,” Steve smiles. His hand doesn’t move from it’s place on the man’s shoulder.

When he comes back inside, his towering, chocolate-swirled beverage is waiting at the end of the bar. 14 is waiting, too, arms crossed, one hip propped up against the counter. She tilts her head to one side.

“Do I wanna know?” she asks. Steve shrugs.

“Nothing to know,” he says, shuffling up to the bar to claim his drink and stare at it, incredulous and amused. “Now what on earth is this thing, a milkshake?”

She rolls her eyes.

“It’s called a frappucino, old man,” she grins. “Drink up - you promised.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x agent 14 #steve rogers fic #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers imagine

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barnesandrogersfanfics · 4 years

Text

Rose Coloured Glasses - Part 14

A/N - OMG its been a while.... again!! Im so sorry i promise i’ll try to update quicker. 💕💕

Having no work meant i had no reason to wake up early....i slept in until 10am then went downstairs to grab some cereal and a cup of tea which i took out into the backyard being as it was a nice day out.

Andy had text me just before 9am saying good morning, so i quickly shot a message back to him. I checked my emails and quickly scrolled through the news before deciding to go shower and start my day of doing absolutely nothing!

The day had been dragging so bad, i had already cleaned the house top to bottom and done the washing etc and it was barely lunchtime! I never thought id say this but i missed work.

It was nearing 10pm when i heard my front door being unlocked, i had a sudden rush of fear until i remembered i gave Andy my spare key.

"Hey" he said quietly as he dumped his coat on the arm chair. I looked up from where i was laying on the sofa watching some cooking show.

"Hey, how are you?"

"Tired" he scoffed before climbing onto the sofa squeezing in behind me so he could hold me close.

"How'd your meeting go with Joanna?" I asked stroking my fingers up and down his arm.

"Erghh" he moaned as he buried his face in my neck.

"That good huh?"

"Jake told us Ben had been bullying him, thats why he didn't tell anyone when he found his body. He thought he'd get the blame.... then Laurie brought up the stuff about my dad....Jacobs now pissed at me for lying to him"

"He'll get over it, he's probably just lashing out...."

"Maybe" Andy nodded "then i went to talk to Duffy, i needed to know if they were still looking into Patz.... i asked her if she could get me a copy of his file"

"She gonna help?"

"I dont think so. I thought we were friends you know? But turns out she didnt agree with me" he said sadly.

"Really? I thought you guys we're friends"

"Apparently we're just work colleagues"

"Im sorry you've had a crappy day" i turned to press a kiss to his lips and he smiled down at me.

"Its getting better now"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah"

"You eaten? I could make you something..."

"Not since lunch, but i'm good i just want to hold you" he mumbled with his head buried in my neck, a loud rumble from his stomach made us both laugh.

"Okay so maybe i'm a little hungry"

"I'll go make us something" i chuckled as i slipped from his arms and headed to the kitchen.

"You're the best, i love you" he called out making me turn to him with a smile.

"I love you too".

Over the next few weeks Andy and Laurie tried to make Jacobs home life as normal as possible. They hired him a tutor, his 2nd grade teacher who had now retired....It had kept Jacob occupied.

When he wasn't working on school work he would be in his room playing computer games.

I had been spending a lot of time at the Barber house after Andy told me he felt better with me around, i also became good friends with Laurie. We'd often make lunch and evening meals together before Andy would drive me home. He would sometime stays the night if he didnt have to be anywhere early, It was nice just to have some alone time with him.

Laurie had decided to go back to work today so i had offered to help Andy get dinner ready. We were nearly finished with everything when Andy noticed the time.

"Laurie's usually home by now, i hope her day went okay" Andy said quietly as he wiped off his hands.

"Maybe she just had a lot to catch up on, she's been away for a while"

"Yeah maybe, i'm just gonna go check on Jake. You okay here for a few minutes?"

"Im fine, go" i chuckled shaking my head. Andy pressed a quick kiss to my lips and headed upstairs to check on Jacob. After a few minutes i heard Andy come back downstairs and head out to the front porch, Jacob came into the kitchen giving me a quick smile.

"My dad said to help set the table"

"Thats great, this is nearly ready" i smiled at him, Jacob had been a bit quiet around me when we first met but he was more comfortable around me now.

"You okay?" I asked noticing that he seemed a little moody.

"Yeah, its just my dad...."

"Oh no, what did he do?"

"Got pissed at me for playing video games online"

"He's just looking out for you Jake, he knows how all this works. What they look into, the things that can go against you. I know you probably think he's being over the top but he just wants to protect you"

"I know, it just sucks" he said sadly.

While Jacob set the table Laurie came rushing in.

"Hey mom" Jacob greeted her with a smile.

"I'll be right there" she replied before rushing upstairs. Jacob shrugged and continued to set out plates.

When Andy didn't come back inside i went looking for him, Laurie had come back downstairs looking like she had been crying... what was going on?

As i walked outback to the yard i saw Andy standing in front of the garage door.

"MURDERER ROT IN HELL" had been spray painted in huge black letters.

"Oh my god...." i gasped holding a hand over my mouth, no wonder Laurie had been upset "Jesus christ Andy....."

"Im so sick of this shit" Andy mumbled under his breath as he tried to scrub off the hateful words.

"Have you got another brush, i'll help"

"You don't have to....."

"I want to" i smiled up at him, Andy pressed a quick kiss to my lips and then went to find an extra brush. We scrubbed for what seemed like hours and we still couldn't get it off, the letters faded to a dull grey but you could still see what it said.... at least it wasn't as visible to anyone passing by on the street now though.

I reheated some dinner for me and Andy and we sat down to eat together, Jake had gone up to his room like usual and Laurie had gone up to bed to read (i think she just wanted to be alone).

"Laurie seemed like she was struggling with everything today" i said quietly to Andy taking a mouthful of my beer, he nodded slowly picking up his own beer.

"Yeah, she was told not to go back to work..... they can't risk being associated with her"

"Thats rough, that would have been a great distraction for her for a few hours"

"It would have been good for her but i get why they done it. This whole thing with Jacob hasn't just ruined his life....."

"I know" i reached over taking Andy's hand "but you're handling it great"

Andy scoffed looking at me with a smirk.

"Im a mess....."

"You're not a mess, you're strong for Laurie and Jake, you support them through all this bad shit"

"Then i fall apart when i'm with you" he scoffed.

"But thats okay, they don't need to know that and i don't mind..... i'm here for you"

"I love you"

"I love you too" i smiled before taking a another mouthful of my beer "so, what was in the file...." i pointed my bottle towards a file Andy had placed on the table.

"Duffy came through on that Patz file" he cracked a smile.

"She did?..... huh maybe you guys are friends after all".

"Maybe".

The following day Andy and Laurie were meeting with a specialist in genetic inheritance and behaviour to discuss Jacob, Joanna had suggested it was a good idea just incase they tried to use everything with Andy's father against Jake. While they were gone i stayed with Jacob at the house while his tutor came by. I was sat on the sofa watching a rerun of Friends to pass the time when my phone vibrated in my pocket. When i looked at who was calling i was surprised to see who it was.... Frank.

"Hello?" I answered quietly so i didn't disturb Jacobs lesson.

"Hey beautiful, how are you?"

"Im good... how are you?" I hated how his voice still gave me butterflies!!

"Not too great, i miss you"

"Frank....."

"I know, i know. You're with Andy now.... i... i missed my chance...."

"Frank are you wasted?" I asked catching the sound of his slurring.

"No baby of course not"

I sighed shaking my head, if he hadn't been drinking that must mean he was high.

"Look i cant talk right now...."

"Can i call you later?"

"Im not sure thats such a good idea"

"Please? i just wanna talk"

"Fine, i wont be home til after 9pm...."

"Thats fine i'll call you then"

"Okay, bye Frank" i quickly ended the call tucking my phone in my pocket, that phone call should be interesting.

Everything taglist: @jesseswartzwelder @dumblani @barnesandrogersworld @patzammit @rynabarnesrogers-reading @rainbowkisses31 @rororo06 @supernaturalwintersoldier @fairlightswiftly @hiddelstannerbarnes

Rose Coloured Glasses taglist: @readermia @princess-evans-addict @jennmurawski13 @matsumama @ex-bloodjunkie @kaithezaftig @ms-betsy-fangirl

#sebastian stan #chris evans #bucky barnes #sebastianstan #captain america #steve rogers #sebstan #defending jacob #endings beginnings #eb!frank #andy barber #andy barber x reader #eb!frank x reader #reader insert #rose coloured glasses

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jimlingss · 5 years

Text

The President’s Son [14]

Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15

➜ Words: 3.7k

➜ Genres: 100% Fluff, Slice of Life, Bodyguard!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Taehyung is the President’s son, mischievous and playful, and infamous for being a troublemaker. When everyone’s given up, they call for you to be his personal guard. There’s no other choice when your dad’s assigned you to it and surprisingly Taehyung doesn’t mind either. Maybe because you happened to grow up with that brat.

He really is too much sometimes. But lately, it seems to be getting worse and worse. “Is that my sweater, Taehyung?!” He pulls on the sleeves and tugs on the collar as if he can dig his nose or hide his entire face in the soft material. “......maybe.” You aren’t angry as much as you are perplexed. “Why?” “Cause I love your clothes and they’re always bagging on you which makes it the perfect size for me!” He has a disgustingly coy expression on his face, staring at you with a bashful smile. “Did you buy them like this for that purpose? So we can share?” “No.” He bats his lashes and pretends he didn’t hear. “You don’t have to pretend anymore, dumbo. I know your true feelings deep, deep down. It’s okay, I mean I don’t blame you. How could you be able to resist someone like me? You can’t. Lucky for you though, I feel the same way. I like you too.” Taehyung waltzes out of the room, having no plans of taking off or removing your oversized sweater that fits him well. He hums underneath his breath, walking away casually, leaving you baffled and confused. There was definitely something not right about him. It wasn’t that he’s become more insane — he’s always been some kind of crazy, reckless, and irresponsible. Nor is it that he’s in an unusually happy and bubbly mood lately. It’s that he’s been hitting on you to an extreme point….like he’s trying to achieve something. You don’t know what. He’s always loved teasing you, but it’s become provocative, flirtatious. Taehyung’s become kittenish — playful, frisky, and he’s more serious about it. He commits to every joke with the utmost sincerity that you can barely tell if he’s sick or he really wants to get a rise out of you that badly. Taehyung sing-songs when he calls you. “Dumbo~ where did you go?” He dotes on you, clings onto you. “Stand close to me, I have a feeling an attacker’s gonna jump out from the right and tickle me to death. I’m so scared.” It would be bearable if that was it. But he’s evolved into using greasy pick-up lines, to always move closer to you like you’re a magnet, to touch you lightly whenever he gets the chance, and to wink across the room as if no one else is watching. When you tell him to go pee before the two of you leave, he’s gazing at you intensely without blinking. Like his life depends on it, he’s keen on holding eye contact with you — it doesn’t matter what you say, whether it’s important or not. Taehyung not only pays close attention to every word that falls out of your mouth, he frequently compliments how strong you are while licking his lips with his tongue. He’s picked up a new habit of whispering in your ears too, allowing his hot breath to skim on your skin. And whenever you tell him that he’s pissing you off — he shrugs and apologizes despite clearly not meaning it. “Hey, Namjoon.” Taehyung sticks his head through the front passenger window. “Can you get out?” “I’m supposed to drive you, Taehyung.” “Y/N can drive me.” He stands straighter and turns around. “Right?” “No,” you deadpan. “I thought we agreed on this. Remember the last time?” “We’re not gonna be chased. I’m not gonna get kidnapped.” The blonde male sighs. “I just don’t like to sit at the back of the car. I don’t need a damn chauffeur everywhere I go. That’s weird.” “You can’t drive.” “Yeah, but you can. And I can sit up front with you.” “The chief—” “Your dad can take it up with me. You’re supposed to serve me and my needs. You won’t get in trouble for something like this, trust me, alright?” “I don’t serve anyone. I’m not a maid.” “Yeah, but you’re my bodyguard. You’re my protector, so you gotta protect my mental state too and this would really, really help it.” There’s a second of silence and in the heat of the moment, Taehyung decides to spontaneously switch tactics. He pouts, eyes sad and he shakes your arm while swaying back and forth. He tries to convince you with his cute act, but you’re not amused in the least bit. “I’m not the President’s son. I don’t know anything about that. Right now I’m Taehyung….so, please, Y/N? Pretty, pretty please?” But despite being irked by his behaviour, a drawn out exhale squeezes from your lungs. “You make me annoyed.” Taehyung grins, aware that he’s won. “I know.” You walk around, looking through the open window of the driver’s seat before pulling the door open. Namjoon’s brow raises, skeptical and surprised you gave in so easily. “Are you sure about this?” “I don’t know.” There’s no reason to lie. “But I’ll handle whatever happens.” That’s a good enough answer for the strapping brunette and he shrugs, getting out, not willing to put up a fight lest Taehyung throws another tantrum. It’s not his job to decide what’s best for him after all — he doesn’t get paid enough for that. Taehyung slides into the passenger seat and turns to stare at you. His cheeks nearly burst with his enormous grin, happy to get his way. “One day I’ll learn how to drive properly, so I can take you around instead.” “No, thanks. I’d rather stay alive and not die in an accident,” you mutter, putting the keys in the ignition and firing up the engine. He scoffs and argues it’ll be fine, but doesn’t put up much of a fight as he leans back, savouring the moment. It’s so entirely mundane and something he’s so happy over. Maybe it’s because he finally feels normal, that it’s just the two of you driving to some destination, and he’s not a person of different status in the backseat with you and a driver up front. If this is all that takes to make him happy, you’ll find ways to always achieve it. “I’ve been thinking about something and I’ve finally decided,” he says out of the blue over some generic pop song playing over the radio. “I’m going to help you.” “Help me?” You’re skeptical, sparing a glance to the person beside you. “How?” “I’m going to help you adjust to real society, so that you’re healthy and normal and no longer emotionally stunted.” “I am healthy and ‘normal’, Taehyung.” He ignores you, continuing and really convincing himself as he talks and nods. “No one likes talking to a robot.” You let out a long sigh. “You trust me, right? It’ll help you get closer to your dad too. Nothing’s gonna change if you don’t do anything about it, and he probably thinks you’re well-adjusted. You don’t want to disappoint him, right? But rest assured, I’ll try my best….” There’s a drawn out silence that you savour. “Are you bored, Taehyung? Don’t you have an art project due in a week?” He gasps dramatically and you feel his gaze boring into the side of your face. It was better when he was in the backseat and stared through the rear view mirror — at least that was easier to ignore. “I’m offering you my help and you think it’s because I’m bored and have nothing better to do?! That’s only a little true! But I’m mostly doing this out of the goodness of my own heart! You should be thanking me.” Your tone drips of sarcasm. “Thanks.” Yet, Taehyung still grins, taking it very literal. “You’re very welcome.” You have an inkling of what’s to come and you’re not excited in the least bit. Sure, you don’t know what exactly is in store, but when it comes to Taehyung and especially with his recent behaviour, you know it can’t be good. The emotion that you feel, you quickly realize, is dread. Dread. Though in a way, he is showing you how to feel more emotions — you’ve never felt this kind of reluctance and apprehension in a long time. Once the car is parked, you get out and lock the doors, stuffing the keys in your pocket. The parking garage is empty, echoing with his running footsteps. Taehyung catches up to you at the speed of light, almost like he’s trying to tackle you. But instead, he throws an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close into his body. You jolt before glaring at him. Though it’s futile. Taehyung is undeterred by it and he even secures his hold on you, almost nuzzling his forehead into your hair. He offers the cheesiest grin possible to explain what the hell he’s doing. “People are naturally affectionate, dumbo. It’s part of human survival. You shouldn’t be flinching every time someone gets close to you, y’know.” You say nothing. The hairs on the back of your neck have risen. Your blood is pumping, and it’s not because you’re especially flustered from his touch or that butterflies have migrated to the pits of your stomach to flutter their wings around. No, it’s nothing romantic. Rather, it’s the urge to tackle him to the floor that’s been ingrained into your muscle memory. When someone touches you — they want to fight you. Or at least it’s what’s been ingrained into your system. If only Taehyung knew your internal conflict, he’d be scared enough to let you go. “When was the last time you hugged someone?” “I don’t know.” “Well let’s change that right now.” Suddenly he stops in the middle of the parking garage where you both could get hit by a car. Taehyung unknowingly pours gasoline into the fire of your internal turmoil by spinning, throwing his other arm around your waist, and pulling you into a tender hug. Your knees bend. You grip his arm. You’re automatically put into a fighting stance. But somehow, Taehyung doesn’t budge whatsoever. It’s as if he was expecting it. The college student leans his weight on you, his own knees bent, his feet rooted into the ground. He is an unmoving force that refuses to be pulled down. And the pair of you are stuck at a standstill. “It’s okay to relax,” he murmurs into your ear. “No one’s gonna attack you from a hug.” It’s not affectionate or soothing in the least bit. Your pupils are dilated — adrenaline pumping — flight or fight instincts kicking in full force. It’s only forced logic that makes you resist your urges. Your utmost priority is to protect him after all and throttling him would be counter-productive. But If an outsider saw the two of you right at this moment, they’d probably be repelled at the sight. It’s much less of an embrace and more like you’re about to wrestle each other. “Says you.” “Stop panicking, it’s okay.” “I hate this.” Taehyung lets go, putting his hands on your shoulders and stepping back at a more comfortable and breathable distance from you. He smiles gently. “That’s okay too. But it’s not so bad, right?” “No, it’s bad.” Hugs are downright awful. He scoffs and continues to walk alongside you, syncing his footsteps in yours. “Pft, you act like I’m subjecting you to some kind of torture.” “It is torture. It’s sweaty and gross.” “Wow I can’t believe I’m saying this, but are you five? Next you’re going to be talking about how you don’t want to catch cooties.” “Hey, I remember for a fact that you were the seven year old who always shrieked whenever I touched you. Didn’t you call me diseased?” Taehyung laughs at the memory. He ends up leaning in closer to you, the back of his hand purposely brushing yours. The blonde takes the leap and leans down to clasp your hand, holding it tight and squeezing it comfortingly. Except you jab him in his gut with your elbow, shoving him back. Taehyung is left behind, wheezing, wind knocked out of him. Still, he gives you a thumbs up and a pained grin, telling you that was a pretty good one. // The flirting does not cease, not even in class. Taehyung stares and purposely knocks his elbow against yours when he’s scribbling notes. Then he not-so accidentally drops his pencil on the floor near your feet and when you both bend down at the same time to pick it up, he retains intense eye contact and brushes your hand with his fingers. It’s distracting and when you look over, he hasn’t written a single thing down. All Taehyung does is doodle your name and put hearts around them. He even muffles his laughter behind his hand in the lecture hall when he sees your outright disgusted expression you no longer try to hide. When the hour’s over, he rides his bike exceptionally fast so you can hang on tighter to him. He calls you cute and holds you like his favourite teddy bear. He tries to spoon-feed you lunch, and that’s where you draw the line. But it doesn’t help the situation when other people think he’s head over heels for you — whispering about how sweet and cute he is as you both walk past, giggling and always looking over…. You must admit, it’s impressive. Taehyung’s obviously switched tactics and now he’s wearing you down faster than you thought was possible. By the end of the day, you are truly exhausted and overwhelmed. Like Namjoon, you don’t get paid enough for this. “Is everything to your liking, sir?” “Wow.” One arm is propped up, holding his head as he lies on his side on the bed, body bathed in the dim light coming from the lamp next to him and making him glow. “I hate being called by anything other than my actual name, but I really wouldn’t mind you calling me that again. I might prefer ‘master’ though. Give it a try.” “Can I leave or not, Taehyung?” “Boo, you’re no fun.” He sits up with a pout. “And why do you want to leave so soon? I thought we could….play a little.” “I’m tired and I’d like to leave. We have an early morning tomorrow too. Your class starts at nine.” A sly smirk pulls on his mouth and his irises twinkle. “You could just stay over. That would make it easier for the both of us.” Reaching your limit completely, you move to switch the light off and you turn away to the door. But at the last second, Taehyung calls out to you. Desperation meets your ears. “Wait, Y/N! I was just joking….please don’t leave.” You linger at the doorway before turning back around so he can see the profile of your visage. Taehyung’s playful and mischievous expression has wiped off. What’s taken its place is hesitance and traces of fear. “I….want you to stay.” “What’s wrong?” Your own voice softens, recognizing his earnestness, how his timbre was tender and husky around the edges. “I can’t sleep,” he murmurs. “Well, I can, but not well. I’m….scared and I keep getting nightmares of that time I was taken by those people...except, you never came to rescue me and I was on my own….I just...want you to stay with me. For a little bit. If that’s okay with you.” It’s quiet and you recognize it well from having it seen in your colleagues back when you were still on the force — how trauma has made its mark on him. “We need to book a therapist.” “No.” He shakes his head. “I’ve been to one before, many times, and it’s fine...but it’s not what I need. Not right now.” Taehyung wants someone to be with him. Someone that’s not paid to be. You gaze at him, staring, breath held in your throat. And then your hand slips off the doorknob. You do a complete round as usual around his apartment, looking out the windows and onto the street, drawing the curtains after the premise is checked. The doors are locked again, deadbolts in place, and you peek to make sure nothing’s out of the ordinary, that there’s no hiding intruder. But instead of leaving, the last thing you do is enter Taehyung’s bedroom. The door closes behind you. “What...the hell are you doing?” Taehyung sits up again. This time, he’s appalled, the covers falling down to pool around his lap. “I’m making sure you’re safe.” His hand extends as if he’s trying to show someone else how ridiculous this is, baffled beyond coherent speech. “You look like you’re part of a horror movie!” You don’t see a problem with it — you’re just sitting in the dark. And in the corner of his room. Perched in an armchair with your arms on the rest and your back straight. Your eyes are wide open and staring at the door. A sleek handgun is prepared in your lap. He cries out in protest, “I’m gonna get more nightmares from this!” “You’ll be safe this way.” “No.” Taehyung peels the corner of the covers and pats a spot beside him. “Come here. Lay here with me. I’m not kidding, Y/N. I’m not letting you sit in the corner of my room with you like that. It’s creepy as fuck.” He crawls over the bed and grabs your arm. A muffled yell tears from your mouth before you fall onto his mattress and he’s pulling you in, getting comfortable. “I can’t fight in this compromising position,” you mutter against his chest. But it doesn’t stop him from holding you, arms wrapped around your abdomen like you’re his body pillow, leg thrown over yours, cuddling your frame. It’s horrible, sweaty, and way too warm. “No one’s going to attack us in my apartment. There’s a whole security system in this place,” Taehyung mumbles. “You know that.” “Yeah but don’t you want to feel safe? I thought that was the point.” “I want you beside me.” There’s a moment of silence. “If you’re that uncomfortable, you can leave….I-...I won’t force you to stay if you don’t want to.” You consider it, but it doesn’t take a lot of deliberation to come up with a decision. “I’m fine.” For just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax and be beside him. To you, it goes beyond a sense of duty, more than being part of your job. It’s a desire to make him feel comfortable and safe at any cost. “It feels like we’re kids again.” Taehyung laughs at a low volume, breaking the peace in his quaint bedroom. You can hear his thundering heartbeat against your ear — but you suppose any kind of human physical contact warrants that response. “We should have a bubble bath together. I promise I won’t touch. I’ll only look.” Your eyes roll, even if he can’t see. “We never shared a bath.” “Yeah, but we should.” “No.” He giggles and it’s pleasant to listen to. “We did share a kiddie pool together. Remember? I had these rubber duck arm floaties with me and some pool toys. You were supposed to teach me how to swim. Didn’t your dad teach you?” “Kind of.” Your eyes shut and even when it goes against what your intentions, you’re lulled, no longer as alert as a few minutes ago. The corner of your mouth still moves. “He put me in an adult swim class so I could learn.” “Oh.” “He punctured holes in my floaties when I wanted to use them. Said I didn’t need it and wouldn’t have it on me if I was drowning.” “That’s….” Taehyung searches for the right word. “....intense.” You hum a soothing note and the corner of your mouth quirks as another memory surfaces. “Didn’t you push me in the actual pool? In the deep end?” “And you survived!” He chuckles and snuggles you closer. “Guess your dad’s strategy worked after all.” “I remember you shoved me down a waterslide when I wasn’t ready too.” “Huh. I don’t really recall—” “You tried tripping me up the stairs and laughed when I slipped in a puddle.” “You have a fantastic memory, don’t you, dumbo?” Taehyung grins, though he isn’t sure why you’re bringing it up now. You’ve accepted his apology, but he’ll apologize as many more times as he needs to. He was an idiot back then — he still is. Your voice drops, rumbling in your chest. “That’s cause I remember everyone who does me wrong.” There’s a pause, the threat lingering in the air. He gulps and glances over. “Would you look at the time?! It’s almost midnight! We should go to bed. Got an early morning tomorrow! No more talking! Goodnight, dumbo. Sweet dreams.” “Are you going to let me go?” “Shhh…..” He shushes you, and when you mumble a ‘goodnight’ back, he smiles. Taehyung eventually drifts off. You listen to the way his breathing softens and steadies, noticing how his chest rises and lower with snores. His grip eventually loosens, though he still hugs onto you. The furrow of his brows relaxes when he knows you’re still with him. It takes time, but soon you’ve also become sleepy enough, drowsiness taking over and pulling you halfway through consciousness and dreams. In this state, the day’s events sink into your bones, muscles, and mind. You don’t think it’s normal to hold hands or to share a bed like this with a friend, even if it’s a childhood friend. At least not like this. The way he holds you is intimate, nearly encompassing your entire frame. You never realized how broad his shoulders were, no longer that of the child that you once knew. Taehyung’s body is warm, his presence pleasant to be beside and making the darkness much less intimidating. Whenever you squirm away, he unconsciously gets closer, and you find yourself smiling. While you might not know a lot, it’s clear that it’s not normal to be in a position like this with someone who’s merely a friend. But Taehyung’s more than that. Maybe you just never thought about it deeply before. Maybe it’s just always been a part of your subconscious, but you never once put a name to it. Like your emotions that you felt and merely subdued down… He’s not just a friend. He’s— You’ve fallen asleep before you can finish your own thought.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung fluff #OOOOOH THINGS ARE GETTING SAUCY AREN'T THEY

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gaamagirl565 · 4 years

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Matters of the heart S3 ep 2

Matters of the heart Season 3 Ep 2 A question of faith

{OPENING CREDITS} {Open to early morning and everyone sleeping in their respective tents or by the fire; fade to Eugene sleeping in his tent with Rapunzel on his chest; A whinny from a horse sounds out and Eugene opens his eyes and sits up} Rapunzel: What’s wrong? Eugene: shhh… {He grabs his sword and steps out of his tent; he keeps his eye on the treeline; a few people wake up around the fire and stay still; Varian peeks out of his tent with Zapada} Zapada: What happens here? Varian: I don’t know… {Isaiah walks out of the tent with his sword and a smirk before Varian and Zapada yank him back by the collar of his shirt} Varian: Boy I swear-! {Eugene hides behind one of the trees and waits as a person walks out of the treeline with a sword in hand} Stoica: o, mulțumesc lui dumnezeu! Te-am găsit! {Eugene Jumps out at him and swings his sword; Stoica blocks the blow with his own sword} Eugene: urrghh… {Zapada runs out of the tent towards them} Varian: Zapada, NO! {She runs in between them and pushes Eugene off} Zapada: Your majesty! Please stop! Stoica: Zăpadă! Zapada: Stoica! { She jumps on him and hugs him} Zapada: what are you doing here!? Stoica: I heard of terrible things in Corona! I had to return and see that you were okay! Zapada: oh, fratele meu … i’m more than okay. {Pan over to Varian and Rapunzel walking up to Eugene} Eugene: um..Var? Am I missing something? Varian: Everyone can rest easy he's not an intruder he's a friend! {Everyone in the camp relaxes and some go back to sleep} Varian: Eugene, Rapunzel, this is my brother-in-law. Stoica. Rapunzel: great to meet you! Stoica: likewise your majesty. Eugene: yeah sorry about the whole almost cutting your head off thing. Zapada: Where is the rest of us? Stoica: they're coming along as well. I went along ahead. I was so filled with worry after I saw the city. Rapunzel: you saw it!? Stoica: your majesty I tried to enter. there were some new guards in Black armor. they looked hostile. Varian: any citizens? {Stoica shakes his head somberly} Stoica: I apologize but... the city was covered in these strange stones and they... they were wheeling out a cart of dead. {Rapunzel gasps and runs of in horror; Eugene follows her} Eugene: Sunshine wait! {Pan to Isaiah listening from his tent and sadly closing the flap; Cut to Isaiah sitting by a tree as the other kids play; Lily notices and walks and sits next to him} Lily: You okay? Isaiah: people died... Lily: yeah people do that. Isaiah: Lily! Lily: sorry I'm just trying to lighten the mood. I get it. it sucks. Isaiah: it more than sucks! the cult took our home! they're killing the people of Corona! Lily: I get that! They’re my subjects! How do you think I feel!? how do you say my family feels!? but there's nothing we can do about it right now... {they both sigh in frustration; Lily lays her back across his lap} Isaiah: You know my dream is to always be a guard. Lily: huh? Isaiah: protect the citizens of Corona and serve my country. go off on glorious Adventures. now when my country is actually in danger of being wiped off the map I'm just sitting here. Juniper: and for good reason little guy. Both: AHH! Juniper: sorry I didn't mean to scare you. hehe, I guess I can be pretty scary at times. Isaiah: no kidding! Lily: I think my heart just went into my throat and I just had to swallow it down again. Juniper: look.. Isaiah right? bottom of the line you're still just a little kid. {Isaiah stands up knocking Lily off his lap in the process} Isaiah: I'm 13 and I'm about to be 14 in a few months! Juniper: sit down little man! you're a baby. Isaiah: A BABY!? Juniper: yes a baby. there's a reason you're not doing anything. first of all we barely have any food or supplies that's the first thing we have to worry about. the Caravan coming into Camp will help with some of the supplies problems but in the end those are just more mouths to feed as well. on top of everything, we have all those sick victims from your village. Isaiah: Bu- Juniper: secondly we don't know anything. we don't know their numbers or strengths or weaknesses. the only thing we know is everything your dad knows about them. the next item on our list would be to find out more about them. the only way to do that would be to infiltrate the city without being spotted which ended up itself is an incredibly Dangerous Mission not something for a young teenager. {Isaiah stares at her with rage and looks away} Juniper: look kid I'm not trying to offend you or anything I'm just giving you the hard facts. to put it bluntly kid we just don't have the resources. {Juniper walks away; Lily looks over at a beet red Isaiah} Lily: ok... Isaiah breathe in and breathe out Isaiah: RRAAHHH!!! Lily: that is not breathing… Isaiah: what does she know!? I've seen tons of battles I know how they work! {Akina and Benny walk up} Benny: what is stinky screaming about this time? Lily: someone told him he couldn't do something. Benny : oh so the usual… Akina: I'm sure she didn't mean anything personal Isaiah… Isaiah: she called me a little kid! Akina: but... we are kids… {Isaiah stuffs his head into a nearby hollow tree and screams before going limp} Lily: it's okay guys I've seen this many times before we just have to let him rage himself out. {Cut to Varian chopping wood; Ruddiger climbs on his shoulder} Varian: oh hi bud! {Stoica walks up} Stoica: Varian...may we speak? Varian: huh? Oh, yeah sure! What’s on your mind? Stoica: I’ve been talking to others and trying to fill in the blanks of what I’m missed since last here...You thought your son had perished? {Varian flinches} Varian: Y-yeah...he was...pushed off of a cliff. we thought he was dead. Stoica: and you became violent. Varian: what!? Stoica: some of your villagers admit that you became a bit hostile after the supposed death of your son. I want to be sure that you didn't do anything to my sister. Varian: Stoica, whatever you've heard I'm sure is highly exaggerated. yes, I'm not proud of some of my actions but I never would lay a hand on Zapada! Stoica: and that's why I'm coming to you. I want to hear your side of it. Varian:... you have to understand something first. I had a wife before Zapada. she's been gone for a long time. all I had left of her was our son. When I thought Isaiah was dead I felt like my entire world fell apart. so yes I lashed out at a lot of people. but I want to make something clear... I would never hurt her. Stoica: life comes in waves Varian. sometimes it's happy and sometimes it's laced with tragedy. whenever the tragedy comes around I need to know that you are able to keep yourself in check. I need to know that you're not a violent man. Varian: a violent man? Stoica: do you lash out every time something bad happens? Varian: No! of course not I've been through many horrible things in my life but I didn't lash out at those who cared for me every single time! Stoica: I want you to understand I'm not trying to be a bad guy here. I'm just trying to protect my own. I know you can be a good man. I just hope that you can remember to be one. {He walks away leaving Varian looking fearful; cut to Isaiah sneaking over to the supply station; he hides as a person walks away from it; he smirks as he notices the supply chart} Lily: What are you doing? Isaiah: Gyah! What is wrong with volume people and scaring me do you want me to have a heart attack!? Lily: answer my question… Isaiah: I can't just sit by and do nothing. especially with wild man’s daughter telling me that I'm only a little kid and can't do much to help Lily: that's...not what she said. well I mean it's partially what she said but it's not all of what she said! Isaiah: I'm going to get the list of supplies that we need... it's still early afternoon. if I can find out what we need and use the tunnels I might be able to sneak into the main city unnoticed. Lily: How are you supposed to get all of the supplies we need back here without a cart. secondly, how would you put a cart in the tunnels to begin with. Isaiah: uhhh… Lily: exactly thank goodness you have me… {She walks up and grabs the supply list} Isaiah: Lily! Lily: come on let's go. Isaiah: no I can't risk taking you! Lily: why not? We’ve gone on adventures that were just as dangerous if not more. Isaiah: I can't risk losing you! {Isaiah blushes at what he said and Lily blushes as well; he realizes he grabbed her hand and he lets go sheepishly} Lily: umm..right.. but I know Wayne to the city that nobody else knows about! We’d be able to fit a cart there! Isaiah: where is it? Lily: there's a hole in the wall that the guard were supposed to fix up the day that everything happened. Isaiah: are you telling me you guys were just overlooking a giant gaping hole in Corona's main wall? Lily: NO!... the bricks were old and weak and it totally wasn't because me and my siblings were messing around and caused part of the wall to collapse… Isaiah: ... I would question him but we really don't have the time... you think we can get in without being noticed? {Lily strikes a confident pose} Lily: Totally! the collapse happened behind some houses in the main village so it's totally hidden! we'd be able to hide in the alleyways and sneak into the backsides of businesses and get the supplies we need. Isaiah: You’re a genius! C’mon! Lets get my horse and set him up on a cart! {He takes her hand and pulls her out of frame; cut to Varian as he walks over to his and Zapada’s tent; He stands for a moment in the entranceway and watches Zapada tuck in Sterling; he smiles softly}

Zapada: Iubirea mea? every thing al-!?

{He abruptly pulls her into a hug}

Zapada: Varian? what is this?

Varian: I...Seeing you with your brother again..and how happy you were...You gave up a lot to be with me. To be with us. I haven’t been the best of husbands. I just wanted to let you know I love you and...And I’m sorry...

Zapada: oh, Iubirea mea...what happened? Varian:I just..got to thinking...After we thought Isaiah.. ya know... I wasn't exactly the best person to be around. and I keep recalling things that I could have done better. things I could have said better. Zapada: Varian- Varian: no you can't just say you've already forgiven me or it's okay because in truth it's really not. I shouldn't have been taking things out on you and the ones that I cared about. {He turns away from her and looks out at the camp} Varian: I've noticed that whenever I experienced some sort of loss or something particularly bad... tend to take it out on people that are only trying to make it better for me. maybe I am a violent man. {Zapada hugs him from behind} Zapada: Iubirea mea..you were frightened and you had just lost your son... our son. you were under intense pressure. I have come to understand this and have already forgiven you. so please try to forgive yourself. you're not a violent man. You’re a good man. {Varian turns around and kisses her before hearing Sterling squeal} Varian: There’s my little man! {He picks Sterling up and holds him} Varian: Getting bigger every day! Sterling: eiii! {Sterling gurgles and pulls on his hair} Varian: ha! What is it with every child I have and pulling my hair? Zapada: Easy to grab, no? {She leans up and kisses him; Eugene runs up to the tent} Eugene: Varian Th-... am I interrupting something? Varian: uh..ahem..no of course not. what's going on? Eugene: Lily and Isaiah are missing! Varian: son of a- seriously I leave that kid alone for 5 minutes. {He hands Sterling back over to Zapada} Varian: Don’t worry we’ll find them. {He runs out of frame with Eugene; Cut to Isaiah and Lily with cloaks and hoods pulled up as they pull up to the side of Corona’s side wall} Isaiah: it’s so quiet...where is this hole? Lily: A little further down… {Once they come upon it Isaiah pulls the wagon to a stop and gazes at the hole} Isaiah: How did you even accomplish this? Lily: all the business district was having some competitive problems and mama trying to solve them so me and my siblings went behind the business and start chucking rocks at the wall... we were bored okay? Isaiah: and the result was a giant gaping hole probably big enough to fit a small elephant? Lily: I hit a weak spot on the wall apparently and it just came tumbling down… Isaiah:....oh my god… { he gets off the driver's seat it makes his way through the hole} Isaiah: and you're sure nobody will notice us? {Lily climbs through} Lily: nobody comes to the side of the wall... the only reason they would have known that the hole was here was that Mom heard it collapse and we had to tell her… as long as we're quiet and don't draw attention to ourselves we should be okay. What’s first on the list? Isaiah: we need food. Like you said before as long as we use the alleyways and the back entrances we should be able to grab whatever we need without being noticed. Lily: well for the food I'm sure the bread inside the bakery is still good. Isaiah: I probably steer clear of the butcher shop...blech… Lily: that poor man is going to come back to such a stench when this is all over. {They start moving through the back alley towards the bakery; cut back to camp with everyone on the look out for Isaiah and Lily} Rapunzel: Lily!? Cyrus: Lily answer us! Eugene: Lilianna Fitzherbert you answer us now! Eddard and Rosie: Liiiilllyyy~! Varian: Isaiah? Where are you, buddy? {Hector walks up to him with his son and daughter} Varian: find anything? Bjørn: We found some tracks that we think might belong to them where the horses are kept. one of the horses is missing and so is a wagon we also found wagon tracks leading out of camp. Hector: we checked and everybody in Camp has accounted for other than those two so they must have taken the horse and wagon and went somewhere. but the question is where and why. Juniper: oh for the sake of all things good… Hector: Little bird? something to say? Juniper: I know where they are… Varian: You do!? Hector: Where!? Juniper: They...those kids went “shopping”... {She facepalms and everyone looks at her with either a shocked or confused face} Hector: ...eh? {Cut back to Corona where Isaiah and Lily are about to turn the corner and enter the bakery; Just as their about to enter the shop Isaiah grabs Lily and ducks behind some barrels; cult members walk past the alleyway and look down it} Cult member 1: come on we have to get this car unloaded... they're going to start stinking soon.. Cult member 2: I know but doesn't this seem a bit undignified? {Isaiah looks at Lily and sneaks to the entrance of the alleyway and peeks out to listen; however, when he peeks out he sees four bodies loaded in a cart and immediately ducks back behind the wall in horror} Cult member 2: think about it don't you think they deserve a proper burial I mean they're still people. {Isaiah takes a breath and peeks back out at the cart of deceased people with purplish spots on their skin} Cult member 1: look I get your concerns but at the same time it's not our problem these people opposed larkspur's Rule and you know the punishment for that. Cult member 2: wouldn't it have been more humane to just...I don't know use a sword? Cult member: ... probably. {Isaiah goes back into the alleyway taking deep breaths trying to calm himself} Lily: what did you see? what's going on? Isaiah: it was another cart of dead bodies… Lily: *gasp* Isaiah: it looks like there was some sort of resistance within the city. they didn't last very long. also it turns out whatever biological component was in that gas is fatal. Lily: what!? Isaiah: all of the victims in the cart had the same skin markings. I'm guessing they used the gas on the resistance. Lily: I think I'm going to be sick… Isaiah: This is all the more reason to just get what we need and get out. We need food medicine and weapons. we can find all of that in the nearby stores. we just have to stick to our original plan and not get caught. Lily: o-okay… {he moves her face to look at him} Isaiah: It's going to be okay... I'm not going to let anything happen to you okay? { she smiles and nods} Lily: mmhmm {Start montage of the two entering businesses, taking what they need, maneuvering around Alleyways, and evading cult members; They throw some weapons from the blacksmith shop into a bag and tie off the bag} Isaiah: is that everything? Lily: yeah I think this was our last stop. Isaiah: all right just like before out the back.. { they sneak back out into the alleyway and start making their way back towards where the hole in the wall was; Lily turns around and notices a cloaked figure following them} Lily: Isaiah! Isaiah: Crap! we've been spotted get moving! { they start running down the Alleyways trying to avoid the figure following them.} Lily: he's gaining on us! Isaiah: just keep running when we get to the horse we'll easily be able to outrun him! {Lily trips on a loose stone and hurts herself} Lily: Ah! My leg! {Isaiah stops and turns around; The cloaked figure stops by Lily and bends down} Lily: AHH! Isaiah: NO! {Isaiah grabs his sword from his belt and charges the cloaked figure preparing to swing his sword down on its head; just to see swings downward the cloaked figure grabs his wrist and pulls back it’s hood to reveal a very angry Varian} Isaiah: oh..hi dad... Lily: is it bad that I prefer it just being a cult member… Varian: you are in a sea of trouble buddy… {He picks Lily up} Isaiah: B-but dad-! Varian: Move it! Isaiah:...yes sir. {Cut to Varian with Hector in their own wagon as Isaiah drives his cart with Lily in back with a bandaged leg; they drive up to camp and Rapunzel and Eugen run up} Rapunzel: Lily! Eugene: Lily! You’re hurt! {They hug her and look her over} Rapunzel: where on Earth were you!? {Varian hops off the wagon} Varian: they were in Corona. Eugene: What!? what were you doing there!? Lily do you know how dangerous it is it right now!? you could have been killed! Rapunzel: what were you thinking!? Isaiah: it's my fault your Majesties. Rapunzel: Isaiah? Isaiah: I just... it's my fault. Princess Lily had nothing to do with this. please don't be mad at her. Varian: come on young man we need to have a talk. {He pulls Isaiah off to the side and crosses his arms} Varian: …. well? are you going to tell me why you did this? Isaiah: I..umm… Varian: yeah I'm waiting… Isaiah: someone had to do something! we needed supplies! we needed information! Varian: we were already working on a plan to get both! do you realize how much danger you just put yourself in!? what if you had been caught!? Isaiah: I had my sword! Varian: Isaiah Cadáin Stein, you are a 13 year old boy with minimal fighting experience you would have been slaughtered! Isaiah: I'm not a child to stop talking and treating me like I'm one! {Varian’s eyes dilate in anger} Varian: Isaiah regardless of what you believe you are a child! I lost you once already because of these people and I am not going to lose you again! you were to stay within the camp's perimeter at all times if you wish to go somewhere you will be escorted from here on out am I understood!? Isaiah: What!? dad that’s not fair! Varian: I don't care what is fair! am I understood? {They stare angrily at each other before Isaiah turns away} Isaiah:...fine. { cut to later at night; a cauldron of stew sits on top the fire; Eugene walks over with a bowl and hands it to Rapunzel} Rapunzel: Thanks… so umm...How did the talk with Lily go? Eugene: I did what we agreed on she's grounded for 2 weeks. Rapunzel: good... I really hate to admit it but they really did help our supply. Eugene: and we did get some valuable information about the disease that our sick have. but we still agree what they did was incredibly stupid right? Rapunzel: oh yes 100%! don't even worry about it!... how's her injury? Eugene: deep cut down her shin.. required some stitches but other than that she should be good. {rapunzel sighs} Eugene: sunshine? you okay? Rapunzel: I just can't believe we almost lost her today... and I never thought that my rule is Queen would be like this. {Eugene wraps and arm around her} Eugene:... life sucks. {he takes a sip from his soup as Rapunzel chuckles} Rapunzel: that it does sometimes… Eugene: and to be honest sunshine... I think you're doing a pretty good job. I mean yeah things could be better but let's look at the positives. we're together, we have five amazing children, for the most part, everyone's here and doing okay, and even those things could be better we're not throwing a pity party. we're sticking together as a real Kingdom should {Camera pans around the camp as Eugene speaks; Hector leans against a tree with his son; Adira and lance watch as Akina plays with her brother; Stoica being flirted with by various women in camp; Varian sits on a log by the fire and rests his head on Zapada’s shoulder smiling as she feeds Sterling; Cut back to Eugene} Rapunzel: You really think we're doing a good job? Eugene: yeah... Yeah, I do. {Cut to Isaiah sitting under a tree watching the fire; Juniper walks up with two bowls} Juniper: hey kid…hungry? Isaiah:... *venomously* hey… Juniper: Euggh, still mad at me huh? Isaiah: What do you think!? Juniper: to be fair I didn't really do anything I just told you the facts. I wasn't telling you to go into town and put yourself in danger. Isaiah: if this is an apology you're pretty crap at it. Juniper: fine I'm sorry if I made you feel inadequate. you have to understand where I'm coming from though. I grew up in a house with a brother and a dad who's whole world is battle and survival. I know a thing or two of what I'm talking about. you may not like me but I'm not trying to look for friends. {Isaiah keeps looking away from her; she hands him his bowl; Isaiah takes it with a grumble} Juniper: I know you're mad at me because you got in trouble but at the same time you should be glad that you have a dad that cares so much about you that he's willing to get that angry. {Isaiah glances at her} Isaiah: does your dad get mad a lot? Juniper: oh you don't even know the half of it. {She takes a sip of her stew and sits down} Juniper: never me and my brother would do something stupid when we were younger dad would get furious. the dark kingdom is in nice place now back when we were young...I mean really young, it was still pretty dangerous. even just wondering off for a few minutes would get us yelled at. Isaiah: geez. sounds kind of harsh. Juniper: yeah I guess... to someone else it would sound harsh. but then when I started growing older I started realizing the reason he would yell at us so much. It’s because he loves us. he wants to keep us safe. Isaiah: ... I'm starting to feel a lesson coming out of this or something… Juniper: what I'm trying to say is don't be too hard on your dad. the fact that he freaked out so bad means that he loves you a lot. He just doesn't want to see you get hurt. all I'm asking is for you to see it from his perspective, okay kid? {Isaiah looks over at his dad and Zapada; he groans and get up, walking over to them; Varian looks over at him and they star at each other for a moment before Isaiah sits down and leans his head on Varian; Varian smiles and wraps an arm around him} Isaiah: I’m...uh..s-sorry… Varian: I know bud...I know. {END CREDITS}

#tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel’s tangled adventure #TTS #RTA #fanfic #matters of the heart #MotH #Isaiah #Varian #zapada #Rapunzel #Eugene Fitzherbert

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deathbymeow · 4 years

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For You,I’d Die. Chapter: 6. Confessions

Adrien lay on the lounge listening to the shower, trying not the think about the very naked Marinette who was occupying it.

The night had been a blur. There was way too much alcohol consumed and his head still felt slightly fuzzy. One thing Adrien hadn’t minded, was dancing with Marinette. The way her body had moved against his had driven him crazy. He’d tried to keep his distance. He hadn’t wanted to take advantage of her, knowing she was going through something. But as hard as he tried, she was determined to torment him. Marinette had instigated most of the shots and when it had gotten to the tequila, somehow, she’d ended up licking the salt off his hand instead of hers. He could have said no but her pout and those darn blue eyes were hard to refuse. “Weak Agreste, weak.” He mumbled under his breath.

Plagg snickered and floated down to his chosen. “Wow kid, so she’s broken up with snake boy and you’re going to skim around the fact that you’ve been pining over her for years. Do yourself a favour and tell her already. I’m over hearing about it.”

“Thanks, Plagg. You’re such a great support.” Adrien mumbled, throwing a cushion at the little black cat.

“You want support, buy a bra kid. Just don’t blow it. I’m over Sass rubbing it in my face that his chosen got lady luck this time around.” Plagg crossed his arms while still floating around his chosen’s face.

“Don’t you have some cheese to eat somewhere?” Adrien sat up and ran his hands through his blonde hair.

“Yeah, yeah kid. Good luck.” Plagg gave him a little salute and flew off to find his stash of cheese.

Adrien stood up and walked over to his piano. He needed to calm his nerves somehow. He sat down and ran his fingers over the smooth keys. He hadn’t played for ages and it wasn’t until he started to play that he realized just how much he missed it. Playing the piano had become second nature to him but it reminded him of his mum who was still missing. It still hurt even after all these years.

He’d started to play Sia’s song Helium. It had been stuck in his head for ages.

“I’m trying but I keep falling down. I cry out but nothing comes now. I give my all and I know peace will come. I never wanted to need someone. Yeah, I wanted to play deaf thought I could do all this on my own, but even superman sometimes needs superwoman’s soul. Help me out of this hell. Your love lifts me up like helium. Your love lifts me up when I’m down down down. When I hit the ground your all I need.” His eyes were close, and he hadn’t even realized he was singing until he’d neared the end of the song.

He knew he could sing but it was something he never did in front of anyone. It was enough that he was a model, could play the piano, speak several fluently languages, be the top shooter in his college basketball team, been to the nationals in fencing as well as working for his father’s fashion house while studding psychology. Last thing he needed was for people to know he could sing too.

“Is there anything you can’t do, Agreste.” Marinette sat down next Adrien, startling him.

He turned towards her still semi lost in thought only to find her in nothing but a white towel. Her black hair still wet stuck to her skin like threads of silk that trailed over her shoulders and down her back. Adrien gulped and tried not to choke on his saliva.

“You.” He could have died right there. Why was it when he needed his brain the most it failed him. He could just imagine Plagg choking on his cheese somewhere in fits of laughter. “I... I mean you look cold.” He stared down at his hands resting on the keys.

Marinette looked at him then burst out laughing. He couldn’t help but smile and blush at the same time. She was truly beautiful and to see her laughing was worth the embarrassment.

“No really, Adrien that was amazing. I never knew you could sing like that.” She nudged his shoulder with hers. “It shouldn’t surprise me though. You’re good at everything.”

“Nah, not really. There’s heaps of stuff I can’t do.” He let his fingers play a few notes still unable to hold her gaze.

“Really? Name something you’re not good at then?” Marinette put her finger under his chin and lifted it up, so he was forced to look into her eyes.

“Saying no to you. I’m going to have a killer headache tomorrow.” He said smirking as he tried to cover just how nervous he felt.

“Oh no, no, no, you’re not going to blame me for that Agreste.” She nudged his shoulder again. “So, what you’re saying is you’ll do whatever I ask of you?” She smiled seductively at him.

“See, when you smile at me like that, yeah it would be near impossible to say no.” He held her gaze this time, trying to work out what was going on in her head.

“Tell me something that’s real then.” She said with a hint of shyness in her voice. She nibbled on her lower lip, a sign Adrien had come to learn meant she was nervous.

“I’m in love with someone that I shouldn’t be.” As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Marinette had just broken up with Luka, the last thing he wanted was to be her rebound. He wanted more, he wanted to be her forever. He stood up suddenly refusing to look at her.

“Adrien?”

“I’ll get you some clothes.” Without waiting for a reply, Adrien walked upstairs and opened his wardrobe. He pulled out a t-shit and boxers and turned around only to find her standing right behind him.

“These are going to be huge on you but at least they’ll be comfy.” He said dropping his eyes to the floor again.

“Adrien… I.” Her words caught in her throat as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes and leant into his hand humming softly at the warmth of his skin against hers.

“You want to know what I’m truly bad at Marinette. Telling people how I feel. Namely one person.” He ran his finger over her bottom lip. A soft moan escaped her mouth and his body replied in ways he hoped she wouldn’t notice.

Marinette opened her eyes and looked up into Adrien’s through her long lashes. He could tell she was deep in thought and he dropped his hand, scared of where the conversation was or wasn’t heading.

She blinked a few times then took the clothes from his hand. She turned her back to him and in one swift motion dropped the towel and pulled his t-shit over her wet hair. He was left stunned at the quick glimpse of her bare back and toned butt. She was going to be the death of him.

He was completely lost for words as she pulled the boxers up and turned back around, her cheeks slightly pink making her cute freckles stand out.

“Did you know that I’ve had a crush on you ever since you gave me that umbrella, the first day we met?” She blurted out so fast Adrien took a moment to understand what she said. Her cheeks were turning a darker shade of pink and she crossed her arms. The pose and pout reminded him of the 14-year-old Marinette from their school days. Suddenly he remembered the young Marinette always shy and stuttering around him. The realisation was like having a bucket of cold water tipped over his head.

“You… You had a crush on me?”

“Yes! I was in love with you then and I’m in love with you now. I don’t think feelings that strong ever really go away, I just learned to live with it.” She didn’t look at him until the last words left her mouth. The way her blue eyes sparkled under her lashes and the little pout on her lips send shivers through him.

He took a step towards her and then another, closing the gap while holding her gaze. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair as he brought his face to hers. Their lips met and the room seemed to melt away leaving only the two of them wrapped in each other’s arms.

Adrien moaned as she nibbled on his ear then trailed soft kisses down his neck to the base of his throat. “Marinette?” He breathed as she started to unbutton his shirt.

“Shhh no talking.” Before he could answer she’d torn his shirt off, pushed him onto his bed and straddled his hips.

Adrien grabbed her waist as she leant down to kiss him again. He moaned into her mouth as she rocked her hips forwards. His hands glided under the lose t-shirt and over the soft skin of her back. As she rocked forwards again, he felt her breasts against his chest through the soft material. She whispered into his ear sending shivers down his spine. “When you said you loved someone, you did mean me right?”

His eyes fluttered open; he shifted his weight until he was on top of her. “Yes,” he kissed her forehead, “yes,” he kissed her nose, “yes,” he kissed her lips. “I Adrien Agreste are guilty of loving you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.’ He said staring into her eyes, a wide grin on his face. She giggled as he trailed kisses down her neck.

“That tickles.” She breathed as she pulled his face back to hers. Their lips met, and he let her tongue explore his mouth. It was his turn to tease her this time and he rocked against her. He nearly lost it when she moaned, locking her legs around his hips and pushing him down against her again.

They fell into a rhythm against each other as they lost themselves in an endless kiss. It wasn’t until he felt Marinette’s hands unbutton his jeans that his morals caught up with him. “Marinette, you have no idea how much I want this.” He moaned against her lips. “But I don’t want to take advantage of you when you’re not sober and only just come out of a relationship.”

“Shit Agreste, why are you so perfect?” She stared into his eyes and pouted as her legs let him go.

He gently kissed her nose. “Oh, I’m far from perfect Marinette. You have no idea just how much I want you right now, but I don’t want to be your rebound.”

“Adrien Agreste, you could never be just a rebound.” Marinette giggled, half amused, half frustrated.

“I’m going to hold you to that Marinette. I’m going to have a shower. A very cold shower. Don’t go anywhere.” He smiled at her then softly kissed her lips. “You taste like peppermint.”

“Yup, I used your toothbrush.” Marinette giggled wriggling away from him.

“Of course, you did.” He said shaking his head and grinning ear to ear as he walked into his bathroom.

Marinette lay in Adrien’s bed, her head rested on one of his many pillows that smelt of him. She felt giddy but she didn’t know if it was from kissing Adrien or the alcohol. God he was a good kisser and she really hadn’t wanted him to stop. The way his hard body had moved against hers made her body tingle just thinking about it. She loved him and he loved her back. There were things they had to work out. Of course, he didn’t know she was Ladybug. Did he need to know?

Alya and Nino were going to die. And then there was Luka. Oh god Luka. How was she going to tell him? Luka had said to her that he wanted her to be happy, but she knew this was going to really hurt him.

He was friends with Adrien. Did that make it easier or worse? And of course, he knew that she once had feelings for Adrien. Would he think he was always just her second choice? Because he wasn’t, she did love him, and she still did, but she wasn’t in love with him anymore. Not in the way he still loved her.

Marinette was tired, body and soul. She inhaled and exhaled like Tikki had taught her to calm her jittery nerves. It helped. She let her senses take over and focused on her surroundings. The sound of running water from the shower, the texture of the sheets against her body and the scent of Adrien. Her eyes felt heavy and she let her mind drift into darkness.

Adrien ruffled his blonde hair with his towel. The shower had helped. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t taken matters into his own hands literally in the shower, but he still wanted her. God did he want her right now. He knew it was the right thing to do, but he still hated his morals right now. Why did he always have to play by the rules, Chat wouldn’t. Of course, she didn’t know he was Chat, yet.

With the towel around his waist he walked back into his room to find some pyjama pants. He expected Marinette to be awake ready to torment him again. He didn’t expect to find her curled up asleep in his bed. She had never looked more angelic. Her dark hair flowed over the pillow framing her milky face, her cheeks still flushed and lips red from their kisses. He threw on lose fitting pyjama pants and slid in next to her.

He curled his body around hers. The moment was something he’d wanted for so long he wondered if he was already asleep dreaming. Of course, he’d snuggled her as Chat, but she didn’t know that, and it was so different without the leather suit. He could feel her soft skin against his. Her small body moulded perfectly against his as if she was made to be in his arms.

With her warm body pressed against his and the rhythm of her soft heartbeat against his chest, it didn’t take long for sleep to pull him under.

Chapter: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Sia - Helium (Male Cover) Ryan Dolan

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #miraculous lb #adrienette #confesion #aged up #adrien agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #plagg #no regerts

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diyunho · 5 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “ Nobody” Part 1

After not feeling well for months, The Joker finally found out why: the life threatening condition is so serious there’s only a 50/50 chance of survival. Dealing with a brain tumor is not going to be easy, that’s why The King of Gotham asked his half-brother Arthur to help Y/N while he’ll undergo treatment.

The Joker yawns, repositioning his head in your lap.

“You want a small pillow?” you pause the movie you’re both watching and he refuses.

“No,” J stretches on the couch. “These are soft enough,” he pokes your thighs and you squirm, ticklish to his touch.

Suddenly, the cell phone chimes and J reaches his hand to grab it from the table.

“Arthur is here,” he announces. “He wasn’t in a hurry, hm?” The Joker mumbles while getting up.

You decline to comment and do the same because you can hear the elevator going up to the Penthouse. You could say the anticipation is making you a little bit nervous: you’ve been with J for about 10 months but you’ve never met Arthur. Probably it’s safe to assume they are not very close yet soon after finding out about the illness, The Joker contacted his sibling to let him know and sure enough he agreed to come over and help.

Although Mr. Fleck is three hours late, it doesn’t mean he is trying to back out on his promise.

The elevator opens and Arthur emerges dressed in one of his red suits, anxiously passing his fingers through his curls. J wants to criticize and his brother is in no mood for a lecture:

“Before you lash out, I was delayed by an unexpected issue!” he keeps talking and walking in your direction. “My apologies.”

“What issue?” J growls and Arthur extends the palm of his hand, firmly shaking yours, definitely not waiting for an introduction: “Hello there,” he smiles. “I’m the older, smarter, funnier and more charming version; you must be the better half.”

“Riiiiiight…” The Joker rolls his eyes, annoyed.

“Y/N,” you smirk at the man’s remark and he lets go of your hand, explaining his delayed arrival:

“Don’t get worked up, kid. One of my projects required immediate attention and I had to sort it out.”

You expect The Joker to protest the nickname but he doesn’t mention anything: Arthur always called him that since they were teenagers and your boyfriend is used to it. Doesn’t bother him at all.

“Do you want a drink? Are you hungry?” you offer and he nods a no.

“I’m good; thanks,” he takes a sit on the nearest armchair and the couple reprises their position on the sofa.

A few moments of silence before Arthur decides to talk about the reason why he’s at the Penthouse.

“Sooo… What did the doctors find out? How bad is it?” he inquires and you unconsciously cling to J’s arm, not willing to hear about it again.

“The brain tumor is too big, I can’t have surgery yet. I already started with lower doses of medication 20 days ago, I have to gradually build up to the higher doses so my body can handle it. Soon I’ll have chemo every 3 weeks, then every 2 we…”

A low chuckle and Arthur covers his mouth in horror.

“Sorry…” he has a chance to whisper before bursting out laughing.

“Here we go…” The Joker crosses his legs, patiently waiting for his brother to finish his outburst. The King of Gotham may not be an accommodating individual, but his sibling’s condition is something he has always tolerated without any problem.

“I’m very…” Arthur tries to speak but the strenuous sounds he makes at the end of each cackle prove how much he’s struggling to control his inappropriate amusement. “…s-sorry,” he continues to snicker while digging in his pocket for a small piece of laminated paper. He finds the item and hands it over to you; you curiously inspect the writing: it basically explains his neurological disorder in a few words.

“It’s fine, J told me,” you return the information to its owner.

“I can’t believe you still have that,” The Clown Prince of Crime huffs as Arthur is slowly regaining his composure.

“I’m very sorry,” he emphasizes his regrettable outpour. “You were saying?”

J deeply inhales and reprises the briefing:

“I’ll have to do chemo every 3 weeks, then every 14 days until the tumor shrinks enough to be operable. I guess I have a 50/50 chance of surviving the whole thing, that’s why I asked for your cooperation in helping Y/N oversee my affairs. I will get worse before I might get better, thus here we are.”

Arthur pulls tissues out of the box next to him and gives them to the devastated Y/N: The Joker didn’t notice you are quietly sobbing by his side.

“Please stop crying,” he kisses your temple, avoiding your emotions like he regularly does. The best option is to divert the gathering towards another topic. “We got ready one of the bedrooms upstairs for you; I hope that’s up to your standards.”

“My standards are normal,” the truth is blurred out. “You’re the fancy one, kid. That’s why you’re The Joker and I’m Joker; I don’t need any glorification. Plus, I didn’t oppose when you picked this half of town and left me the other.”

“You’re an idiot!” the green haired man stands up from his spot, wanting nothing more than to retreat to the master bedroom after an exhausting day.

“Runs in the family,” Arthur nonchalantly hints and you snort, blowing your nose in a tissue.

“Keep your mouth shut!” J advices and you have no clue he’s referring to more than just the constant bickering going on between them. “I’m calling it quits, are you coming?”

“I’ll have a smoke on the terrace first, “Arthur searches for his pack of cigarettes and you believe this is the perfect chance to chat with him:

“I’ll stay with our guest, alright?”

“Suit yourselves,” The Joker grumbles and you follow his brother outside on the huge patio.

“I forgot how nice this is from the 30th floor,” Arthur stirs the conversation while lighting up a cigarette.

“Yes, it’s a lovely view,” you wipe your tears and he resentfully mutters:

“I fucking hate this town…”

You sigh, not wishing to interrupt in case he has more to add and the plain inquiry catches you off guard.

“How are you holding up?”

The question resonates in the awkward stillness and Y/N elects to bring him up to date.

“I’m doing the best I can under the circumstances. He’s not doing well…” you sniffle and Arthur pays attention to your confession. “The medications may be in low amount, but they are strong; they make him very confused at times, plus the side effects of the tumor… he forgets things, he has no idea where he is or… or… who I am. The doctors advised that when it happens we have to go with the flow and not push for him to recall details. His brain is under a lot of pressure and this is only the beginning.”

Arthur blows smoke up in the air, displeased with the news about his younger sibling.

“Shit, that’s rough…”

That’s surely the understatement of the year for the heartbroken Y/N.

“When he doesn’t recognize me, I tell him I’m nobody, just a person taking care of the place and he doesn’t even know the difference. I suggest you avoid any type of confrontation while he’s like that; please generalize everything you articulate and don’t complicate the situation.”

“Of course… Yeah, yeah, of course,” he is fast to agree with your guidance.

“Thank you,” you sincerely show your gratitude because you appreciate his presence. “I think I’ll join him upstairs; tonight he’s beginning higher dosage on his pills and he might have a reaction.”

“I’ll stay and finish my cigarette,” Arthur scratches the scar above his lip. “Which bedroom is mine?”

“Fourth one on the left.”

“Perfect, I’ll find it,” he waves as you return inside, eager to check up on The Clown Prince of Crime.

**************

“What the … t-the hell?” The Joker stutters, groggy from the strong medications swallowed a few hours ago.

You barely distinguish his wobbly silhouette standing by the bed.

“What’s wrong?” you turn on the lamp on the nightstand, instantly aware of his wet boxers.

“I d-didn’t make it to… to the bathroom,” J seems out of it, yet at least he realizes that much.

“Oh, it’s totally fine,” you maintain your cool and jump off the sheets, rushing to help him. “The doctors warned accidents could happen since the drugs are making you dizzy and super drowsy. Let’s step in the bathtub, shall we?”

You take his hand and lead a compliant boyfriend to the master bathroom; sometimes it’s easy to deal with him in this state, sometimes it’s not.

Luckily tonight he’s obedient.

You turn on the water and he tightly holds his boxers while you attempt to yank them off him.

“Who…who are you?” The Joker sulks, unhappy with your movement.

“I’m nobody,” you reply and manage not to cry at his disorientation. “I’m here to help you, ok?” you calmly try to reason with his baffled mind.

“I… I… I don’t want you to see me naked,” he complains and Y/N has an easy solution for the apparent controversy.

“I’ll close my eyes, deal?”

You do as vowed and J lets you undress him, finally ending up in the bathtub for a quick, relaxing soak.

“You want bubbles?” you glance at him once the body is submerged under the warm water.

“No…” he yawns and you fold a towel, placing it under his head in case he’ll pass out.

“Where… where am I?...”

A faint knock at the door and Arthur talks in a low tone:

“Everything good?”

“Yes, we’re fine,” he distinguishes your reply; he just returned from the underground garage with his suitcase and discerned the commotion: made him wonder if his assistance was necessary.

“Who was that?” The Joker enjoys being pampered by the stranger he doesn’t recognize for the moment; apparently forgot about shyness also because he has no objection to the sponge bath now.

“The maintenance guy,” you lie without blinking while pouring more shampoo over J’s toxic green locks.

*************

10 am

Arthur joined you and The Joker in the kitchen less than 5 minutes ago; he positioned himself against the counter, this way he has a broad perspective of the whole space. He sips on the fresh coffee, observing the scene unfolding at the table:

J is reading a magazine and you feed him breakfast, caressing his hair every few seconds. You didn’t mention anything about last night; he woke up feeling a bit better and it’s safe not to agitate him with useless facts.

“Are you hungry?” you address Arthur and he lifts his shoulders up, undecided.

“Maybe… I’ll munch on something shortly.”

“Hurry up before it gets cold,” you encourage him and The Joker is already as crabby as he can be.

“Stop bugging him! If he wants to eat, he’ll eat!”

“I’m not bugging him,” you defend your action, upset at J’s feisty attitude.

“She’s not bugging me,” Arthur tucks a rebel curl behind his ear, disapproving of his brother’s assumption.

“I’m not,” you sweetly smile and The Joker slaps your fingers away from his hair.

The cheerfulness dies on your face and you get up, kicking the chair in the process.

“I’ll bring your morning meds,” you enunciate and leave the kitchen in a hurry.

“Goddamn irritating,” J hisses at your behavior and Arthur can’t zip it.

“Are you stupid?” he sucks on his cheeks and that definitely gets your boyfriend’s attention.

“What did you say?!”

“I’ve been here for minutes and she didn’t take a single bite out of anything, too preoccupied with making sure you eat. Do you even notice how she looks at you?” he raises his voice. “So I’m asking you again: are you stupid?”

“Excuse me?!” J abandons his seat and the threatening demeanor queues Arthur about the imminent scuffle, not that he’s willing to avoid it.

“I wasn’t clear enough?” the latest provokes his sibling. “ARE. YOU. STUUUUPID?” he repeats, cracking his neck with anticipation.

You are coming downstairs with the meds and the ruckus happening in the kitchen makes you speed up.

You are certainly not disappointed at the show: J and Arthur are wrestling on the floor, relentlessly hitting one another.

“Stop it!!” you shout and your plea is ignored. “Stop it!” you insist when you detect Arthur’s bloody nose and J’s busted lip. “Are you deaf?! Stop it!!”

This is the last drop: after another shitty night and the stuff you endured recently, you are completely lacking any kind of patience for anybody’s nonsense.

You toss the vial with The Joker’s tablets on the counter, snatch the ice bucket from the freezer and fill it out with water. The ice cubes float in the clear liquid: the 8 gallons metal container is pretty large since it’s used for J’s grape juice cans.

You thud on the marble floor and dump the freezing concoction on top of the two heated fighters, the sudden shock from the unexpected impact being enough to halt the brawl.

“Ugg!!” J rolls on his back while Arthur crawls by the stove. “What are you doing, Y/N?!” he yells and you storm out, firmly squeezing the ice bucket to your chest without realizing.

The loud bang of a shut door bears witness of your justified rage concerning the altercation; how can you not get mad at such crap?!

Arthur seeks for his beloved cigarettes in the interior of his orange vest, triumphantly lightening one after failing the first trials.

“I like her,” he puffs the fumes out, leaning towards his brother because J is gesturing for the bud.

The Joker takes a deep drag, admitting for once:

“Me too.”

“I thought you quit,” Arthur points out.

“I did,” his brother answers, glaring at the ceiling. “Clean up this mess!” he orders and continues to smoke.

“Nope, we should let fate determine,” the older sibling suggests and J falls into the little trap.

“Rock, paper, scissors?”

“Ready?” Arthur smirks and counts. “1…2…3!”

“… … … Dammit!” The King of Gotham cusses.

“Have fun, kid!” the winner plucks the cig away from J. “Gimme, these are bad for your health!”

**************

“Are you in here?” The Joker sneaks in his office and watches you patrol around the desk, still vigorously attached to the infamous ice bucket.

The lack of reply makes him approach the distressed woman; you avoid gazing his way at all costs.

“I need my pitcher,” he sniffles and Y/N disregards his sentence. “You’re aware I like to use grape juice on ice for those bitter capsules. There’s no bucket and no ice in the freezer so… what am I supposed to do? Skip my morning remedy?”

A hint of lowered resistance and he’s taking advantage of it.

“My lip hurts,” he rubs the swollen, red spot. “I need ice for this too.”

You place your precious bucket on top of some folders, cautiously examining the superficial cut.

“Stitches won’t be necessary,” the obvious result updates a pouting J.

“Are you sure?” he plays dumb and wraps his arms around your waist. “Take a closer look, I can’t afford to walk around with chipped dignity.”

You peck the unharmed corner of his mouth, mad you’re giving into such cheap amendments.

“I’m positive…”

The Joker grins and kisses you, entirely convinced it wasn’t hard to get under your skin.

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” he rests his forehead on yours and Y/N is speechless at the question. “This is the tumor talking, obviously,” J fixes the tiny mistake when he sees your reaction.

“Obviously…” you whisper, sadly reckoning he purposely avoids any type of sensitive debate about your future together.

The Joker though is carefully listening to Arthur mumbling on the hallway, suspicious at the meaning.

“Is he eavesdropping?!” you focus on the faint words also and it clicks for J.

“Cut it out!!!” he screams while Mister Fleck is not phased, joyfully concluding the ceremony the couple didn’t agree to.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you Nobody and Joker!”

“What was that?!” you crinkle your nose, puzzled.

“He has a minister license and never used it; he tried to hitch me with my ex too,” J clarifies his brother’s odd conduct.

“You may now kiss the bride!” Arthur shouts and The Joker had enough:

“Shut the fuck up!!!”

“What am I supposed to do with my license then?!” the wavy hair pops in the door frame.

“I don’t care!” J snarls, fed up with his sibling’s persistence. “Go pester someone else!” the door is slammed in Arthur’s face; fortunately the 42 years old is not the type of man to be easily offended.

He adjusts the pieces of tissue sticking out of his bloody nose, proudly holding the minister accreditation at eye level.

“I got myself a sister-in-law,” Arthur chuckles at his achievement, impatiently searching for a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his red jacket.

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker arthur fleck #the joker jared leto #the joker joaquin pheonix #the joker #joker fanfiction #joker arthur fleck #the joker suicide squad #joker suicide squad #mister j #Mistah J #arthur fleck x reader #dc #dcu

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judgement-free-sideblog · 4 years

Text

Blood, tears and sea breeze

Warnings: ANGST, mental health issues, graphic depictions of violence, blood, cursing, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of sex, substance abuse.

Summary: The not so peaceful town of Broadchurch face dead again, while Alec Hardy continues his journey to redemption will this school teacher be the key to solve the mystery or just another victim of the ever watching evilness that seems to reside in the town.

First Previous Next

Chapter 14: I can have dinner

"Ready dear?" SOCO Brian came inside Alec's office looking for Ellie.

"Yes dear, just a moment" Alec responded in a dead serious tone, making both Ellie and Brian perplex for a whole minute "I'm obviously joking" he add embarrassed.

He had been like that on the week, casually making unnecessary light hearted comments, and behaving in what could almost be a good mood, he even had say thanks to Harford for his cup of tea in the morning, and Miller was sure about the reason but she pretend she didn't notice.

"Shitface has a sense of humor, you should do it more often" Brian said laughing, Alec didn't seem to mind the nickname this time, and then turn to Miller "I'll wait on the car" then he exited the room.

"His car?" Alec asked once the man left.

"I have been staying at his place a lot more after the weekend, we went to London, the kids loved it" She explained, she knew she didn't have to, but she wanted to.

"That's why you were late on Monday?" He asked.

"Yeah, he make me the favor to take the kids to school, and then he called to say Tom had gotten into a fight, I think your new admirer took her chance at that moment" she laughed again about Ashley being so direct about wanting a date with him. "I hope this laptop has more to say about the attack, tomorrow Jonathan will have been dead for two weeks"

"I know, you should leave, it's late and I can't concentrate on this, we have to make the reconstruction tomorrow and brief the superintendent on our progress, and she won't be happy" She gave him a compassionate look before leaving and he turned off the lights before exiting the room.

A salty, delicious smell welcomed him once he entered his house, all the lights were on and a happy chat coming from the kitchen made him feel out of place, like if that was not his home, it was devastating to think that a warm happy place was not his home, not like he missed the gray empty environment from the weeks before but he was just not ready to that sudden change, specially knowing that the light was coming from someone that in the best case scenario was going to leave once they catch the killer.

It was the second time that week he felt out of place, at least this time he wouldn't have to make excuses about not following Ashley Langford to her house for a night cap. It had been a disastrous interrogation, more so since she actually acted like they were on a date.

The lights of the Trader's Hotel bar were dim, maybe to make the occasional guests down there cozy enough to avoid leaving to find a better place, and Becca Fisher was chatting animatedly with Ashley Langford.

Alec waited for a moment before approaching, a childish idea that Becca may have told the woman about his embarrassing attempt to seduce her all those years ago, that was a blurry stupid mistake, but somehow he still felt uneasy around her for it.

Then a poisonous idea that maybe she told Paul when they were together, make him feel angry, perfect, young, good mate Paul, he had been avoiding that train of thoughts since the next stop was a pair of bare feet on his wooden floor rearranging his record and book collection, and as Miller had very eloquently pointed out, he was getting too close to this case.

"Hello" he said awkwardly and sit next to her, Becca pour a whiskey to him and then she walked away.

"You really have that look all the time don't you?" She smiled with her perfect teeth and he only took a tiny sip of the drink, he was still working but he was also very tired to following all this dead ends.

"So Ms. Langford, about the owner of the bar where Y/N was attacked, the BC dreamland" A stupid name for a nightclub he thought "A man named Mike Bolzano, do you know him?" She looked disappointed, no longer sad as in the morning, just plain disappointed.

"I don't know him personally, more like professionally, I may have taken a free drink from him once or twice, but nothing apart from that, my brother on the other hand has arranged a catering service from our business to his club to special events but I don't tend to go to those, I make the food and manage the books, Charlie does the rest". She tried to approach him again "I can't believe you have the case for Jonathan, we were very impressed about the Latimer's case, I mean Y/N and me, I'm glad you are taking care of my friend" she had long lashes on her green eyes, but the mention of Y/N was enough for him to not notice that.

"Daze?" He said perplex once his daughter bright smile welcomed him to the kitchen. "But is a Thursday".

"Hi to you too dad, bad day?" She said rolling her eyes the same way he did to Miller and Y/N drowned a little laugh. "Your prisoner and I make dinner, you want some?"

"Sure... she is not my prisoner, she is... what are you doing here again?" He said taking the glass of wine Y/N offered to him, the whole scene was too surreal to cope with, so he drank the whole glass immediately.

"Well it's Beth's birthday tomorrow and Chloe wanted to see her mother, and I couldn't came last week on the spring break, and I really needed a break from Uni, I know is not right, but is only two days" she start and served a plate of rice with clams and shrimp on the table for him.

"I'm sure your father is thrill to have you here, I didn't came back that often when I was in uni, I wish I had" Y/N said with a sad smile "at least my parents have Ash here to keep them company"

"Is that the friend you were talking about?" Dasy asked and Alec stop eating to listen carefully, he had listened to Ashley's version and hadn't had the chance to ask Y/N about some parts of that story.

"Well she was my neighbor for like my whole life, you know how are things around here, and we used to play all the time, I guess her parents let me be around in case she passed out so someone could scream for help, and well she always was the well educated one, respecting the elderly and doing her homework you know, I always was more of a troublemaker" She wink at him and he couldn't help to feel a little attracted to her "I was there for her, and she was there for me, she was the sister I always wanted, I mean I had Charlie but she was a girl and when you have parents as conservative as mine is basically impossible to feel free"

"Where they strict?" He asked assuming that Charles views on women had been learn in a misogynistic family, and understanding now why she was not living with them.

"My dear father called me a whore the moment he saw me in primary school talking to a boy, so yes detective they were strict, I was often send to the church to be punished, so Y/N always got in trouble only to keep me company, she has always been like that" her eyes were nostalgic, and he felt her sincere for the first time. "Anyway they throw me out and Mr. And Mrs. Y/L/N took me in, their elder children had gone away long before so they miss having a lot of people at home, I stayed there and start working, I even made uni on long distance since I had no money at all, when she finished uni we rented an apartment downtown, you living independently, Y/N and I have this crazy idea of travel the world once we got enough money" she said with a puzzling look, sad but also proud?.

"I was ready to leave town, I had been healthy for years, we were leaving on our own, I even saved enough money to the trip, for me and her, but my parents didn't want me to go, I don't think I have ever fought with them before, but you know how it is, sometimes children don't understand what their parents do for their own good, and sometimes parents don't understand that their children are already grown ups" Y/N gave him a meaningful look and he nodded in agreement. "Ashley tried to talk to them telling them she was joining me and that everything will be fine... but we never got to make amends" for a moment Hardy thought she would lost control again but she only nodded with her eyes closed and looked at Dasy "That's why you should make amends with Chloe, a true friend will be always there for you, I wouldn't have survived without her or Paul, I mean my older siblings were too old, they never really got me, and they had their lifes away from broadchurch, so I was alone."

"What's wrong with Chloe?" Alec asked alarmed

"Nothing dad, is just that she is older, and I don't know... is stupid" she said lowering her gaze. He was about to go back to his plate but Y/N gave him a look urging him to keep asking. Fine darling he thought and immediately remembered that this was not a family dinner, even when he was happy pretending it was.

"Oi! You can tell me, come on" he said and she finally look at him.

"Ok, she has a boyfriend, and she spends all the time with him and her uni friends, I don't know, I assume I would be the one fitting in but I felt left behind" she said and Y/N distractedly walked out of the kitchen to give them space to talk alone.

"When her parents die she was a mess, she didn't want to leave their house, thankfully Paul was there for her, he had always been into her, but I guess it was at that time that she look at him with other eyes, she never wanted to leave Broadchurch after that, she gave me part of her savings to open the Deli, she is like that you know? I suppose that's why Paul and Jonathan fell for her, she is just perfect"

"Then do you have any idea of someone that may want to hurt her? Or her fiance?" He said recovering his composure.

"Jonathan was not here for long enough to make enemys, and Y/N was loved by everyone, even my stupid brother and my parents always thought she was perfect, and now I bet you think the same, don't be ashame, is the Y/N effect" she said and he looked away to avoid blushing, because she was right.

Dasy was calmed after a while, it was hard for her to admit she was jealous of Chloe success, and he wondered if Ashley was also jealous of Y/N, or if maybe Y/N was jealous of the free life she had, trapped in broadchurch...

"She is too young for you" Dasy said after a while. "I mean, dead fiance aside, she is 34 and you 48, people would talk" he looked at her perplexed and she add with a smile "Jesus I'm messing with you, I didn't thought you actually liked her, I always asume you will get back together with Miller" she said laughing.

"She is happy with Brian, and I have no interest in Y/N she is staying here for protection, I would never do something that tremendously unprofessional" He started and then he noticed his tune was getting higher as he speak making it more obvious it was a lie.

"Fine, I will believe you, but you should tell her that tho, she is completely smitten by you, I can tell" She gave him a wink and left him alone in the kitchen, thinking about how this surreal domestic nonsense had become his new normal, starting after he interrogated Ashley.

He ask about her alibi, she was at the Deli all Friday, she got an angry text from Jonathan before picking her up at her place where she changed her clothes and went with Y/N to a nightclub at the moment he was murdered, she drove back inebriated to her house, and was too hungover to pick Y/N, the next morning so she called her brother, then she went to work and to pick Y/N at work but she wasn't there, then she drove to pick Jonathan at the airport, waited there for an hour before calling to her phone and then she was told about the incident by Katie Harford.

All of which had been corroborated by security footage and her deli patrons, but at the same time he was not sure why something felt off, he thanked her for the information and drove back to his place, it was late, around eleven, and yet his house was illuminated, she was reading a book distracted.

"Though night DI Hardy?" Y/N asked once he entered and sited on his couch. "I made dinner, don't worry the baby sitter you put down the road saw me exiting the house and escorted me to the grocery store" She said answering the question he was about to ask.

"You are not supposed to leave the house" he said after a while.

"I bought enough food to don't do it anymore" she said defensive and he was about to raise his voice when she add "I'm sorry, I just wanted to feel normal for a change, I know the situation and it won't happen again, I'm very grateful with you for letting me stay here, specially since you don't have to... I'll go to bed" She stood up and he stood up, thinking of grabbing her wrist but instead he call her.

"I can have dinner" he said and walked with him to the kitchen.

"So Ashley told you what kind of monster I am?" She asked while she start reheating the food.

"Quite the opposite actually..." he said distracted "I mean, who do you know I was meeting her?"

"Her best friend says she was attacked, and she is the only one alive to tell what happened, I imagined you'll asked her again about me" she said like it was nothing, but he could hear a little trembling on her voice with some words.

"Maybe you could start doing my job, and I could take some time off" he said and she put a cup of tea in from of him "Thank you"

"Let me guess you are wondering if she is single and you want to ask her out as soon as you get rid of me?" She had a playful smile on his eyes, unlike Ashley her compliments sounded real and sincere. "Don't give me that look you are not made of stone, even if you pretend to be, and she is insanely hot" she said and the way she lean on the table to give him his plate took him of guard, maybe in another life he thought as her face was about thirty centimeters from his. "You wouldn't be the first to end with that dumb look after meeting her" She said and sit on the table with another tea cup on her hands.

And she was right in almost everything, he wasn't made of stone, and Ashley Langford was incredibly beautiful, but the look in his eyes was all because of her.

Tag list:

@allonsymexgirl @laciesaito @tf18unipups @dazedkrosupreme @timey-wimey-lovi @coffees-and-constellations @ladyaziraphale

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crystaljins · 4 years

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wow wow wow!!! i just finished reading chapter 2 of river lead me home. honestly yeah i agree with you, i love oc! she's definitely having it hard with adjusting and people just aren't sympathetic; we can see it even more in chapter 2 when jin wouldn't even let her explain herself and proceeded to just assume what he thought was going on and not what was actually happening. i was super surprised that jin wasn't going with, but i'm also glad that oc stepped up and was willing to do it on her own.

Ahhhh thank you so much!! I love how positive some people are being to OC! She’s been through a lot and I think she needs a good friend 🥺🥺🥺

BUT in the interest of fairness I think it’s time to defend poor Jin. Because now the scales have tipped- everyone loves OC but can’t believe how horrible Jin is! And to be honest, he is a bit mean, but let’s try and see thinngs from his POV.

It is extremely hard and exhausting being a caretaker and Jin has had to do it since he was a 14 year old refugee. Compassion fatigue is real, and Jin has been doing his best for YN since they were kids!!! Imagine that!! Being a literal child and having to emotionally support your devastated best friend. He’s coming from a place of hurt- it’s really painful to see someone you love and care about constantly make bad decisions and I thibk he lashes out because he’s reached that stage where nothing works. Nothing he says make things better. No actuon helps her. He just can’t get through to her. So yes, he’s said some mean things, but the mean things (while in no way justified) are being said because he doesn’t know how else to act. Even where he lashes out in this chapter- it’s because he thought she was just leaving without saying a word! Imagine how much that would hurt- your best friend just leaving without even bothering to say goodbye. For all he knew, he woild have spent the rest of his life wondering what happened to her and grieving her loss because she didn’t have the decency to say goodbye. And that’s not even factoring in OTHER things in Jin’s life- sacrificing friends, a social life to clean up her messes. He works in the ED! My guy is coming home from 18 hour shifts of pure chaos and then having to make a meal for OC, or drive to the police starion to pick her up. Yeah, it seems like he wants OC to suppress berself but there are far healthier and better ways for her to live out her “guardian”-ness. She could be a first responder or a firefighter or something. She can still save and help people without resorting to vigilante justice- look at Jin. He’s a doctor!! He found a healthy way to honour his culture without bringing stress and pain to the people he cares about.

And we know how hard things are for OC because we’re in her head. We know her every thought and feeling. But don’t forget that not every emotion OC inteprets is true. Just because it looks like Jin isnindifferent to OC it doesn’t mean he is. I sometimes do things where I’ll describe Jin’s expression and interpret it, but I’ll intepret it through OC’s eyes because i think it makes the story kore interesting. So don’t always trust what she sees and feels.

Laslty, OC’s mother. Let’s not forget that they came to this realm with literally nothing. She was a widow who had lost her husband barely 12 hours before and then had to step into an entirely new workd and support an emotionally devastated 11 year old child!!! Imagine how hard thst is!!! And so yeah, she kept her engagement from OC until the last minute but that’s bexuase she knew it would hurt her. I’m not saying it’s right, but still.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, as much as I love and adore OC, she is no martyr. She’s done things wrong just as much as everyone else, but the great rhing ahout her is she’s trying her danged hardest to fix it. And hopefully I do Jin justice, but just like OC, I have plans for him to learn and grow (although it is a frustratingly long, painful road. Don’t forget this fic is nearly 70k LOL)

And yeah! I didn’t realise it would be a big plot twist that Jin chooses not to go with, but it just made sense, you know? Their relationship is honestly in tatters. Why would he go with her given the current state of things? But as you can probably tell... jin’s role is in no way finished ehehe... stay tuned for next week (unless u get sick of this fic which is totally fine 🥺)

#ask

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Note

BotB prompt: After the last chapter, I’m definitely going to need a flashback to when Emma told Killian that she was pregnant. Please and thank you!!

@onceuponaprincessworld: After that prompt in botb I would love to see how Killian has to travel for work to promote a movie and Emma finds out that she is pregnant or already know it and how they deal with the distance in that plan. Thank you!

It’s funny because before I got your prompt @onceuponaprincessworld I already had this prompt written this way, so great minds must think alike😘

AO3: Beginning | Current

-/-

When Emma wakes up, her neck aches, some of the muscles very obviously pulled, and tentatively, she stretches out a bit, lifting her head off of her pillow and reaching over to her left to feel the cold sheets next to her. It’s a habit, one that she isn’t really fond of, but she does it nearly every morning. It’s almost like she’s forgotten that Killian isn’t home, forgotten that he’s not going to be next to her when she wakes up in the mornings. For at least those first fifteen seconds of waking, the light coming back to her eyes, she thinks that she’s going to see the rise and fall of his chest, the soft smile that graces his lips when he sleeps, the long, dark lashes landing against his cheeks.

But he’s not there.

And she knows she’s being dramatic. She really does. Going into this relationship, she never quite knew what to expect, but once she was in, she was all in. And if being in meant having to be separated from her husband so that he could be happy with his career, she was fine with that. She is fine with that.

It doesn’t mean she doesn’t miss Killian.

He’s her best friend, the person she trusts most in life, and he’s currently in Prague filming. Prague is decidedly not Santa Monica, and she wishes it was.

Two more weeks.

She can wait two more weeks until he’s home for a long, long time, and then she is not letting him out of her sight for, like, a month. She has work. He has obligations. They have friends and family. That’s never going to happen, but she can at least have him all to herself for a weekend. They deserve that.

For all the talking and video chatting they can do, there’s nothing quite like being able to feel the strength and warmth of his arms around her before she goes to bed or in the evenings when they’re cooking dinner and Killian tries to distract her by running his lips across her jaw and coaxing her out of making whatever it is that she’s making…as if she’s the one who makes dinner most often when that’s usually Killian.

So two more weeks.

They can do two more weeks.

After running her hand over the sheets and the comforter one more time, she rolls over to her nightstand to unplug her phone, turning the brightness down, and pressing her thumb down to open up her notifications.

Ruby: What was the nail polish that I let you borrow? I can’t remember the name, and Dorothy wants to use it.

Mary Margaret: Do you have any time off this month? I was thinking about the boys and I coming to visit?

David: lol.

She fires off responses to all of them except for David’s text, not having anything else to add to him laughing at a joke about detectives that she sent him last night while she was wide awake and he was fast asleep. Half of the people she talks to are in different time zones, and it can get the tiniest bit confusing.

Seriously. Killian is nine hours ahead of her.

Killian: Good morning, darling. I hope you slept well. I have a pretty normal filming schedule today, so I’ll call you before I go to bed, yeah? I love you.

Emma: I love you too. I hope you’re having a good day!

Turning some music on her phone and connecting it to the speakers installed throughout the house, she slowly climbs out of bed, her head a bit groggy this morning, and tries to make quick work of taking a shower. But she stays under the warm spray for much longer than she should, letting the water work out the aches in her shoulders and the still tense pinch in her neck. Damn, did she sleep on it wrong. Obviously her bed is not her friend lately, and that’s her favorite place in the world.

Talk about betrayal.

Eventually she turns the water off and gets out of the shower, moving the soft towel over her legs and her body before grabbing another one and wrapping her hair on top of her head. She has absolutely no idea where her robe is, probably in the laundry room somewhere, so she grabs Killian’s off of his hook and wraps it around her, tying it at the waist to combat some of the chill from the air conditioning blowing on full blast. She doesn’t even want to think about their power bill for this month, but honestly, it’s worth it for how warm it’s been this summer.

Seriously. It’s been miserably hot. She misses winter, which is something she never would have said living in Boston.

(She misses Boston too, but this move was the right decision. She doesn’t regret it.)

After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she grabs her phone and walks downstairs, opening the curtains and blinds as she goes to let in some natural light, the sound of the ocean coming through the open back doors that lead out to the deck. She’s not really feeling like eating, but she knows that she needs to. She’ll forget otherwise, and then when she goes to Liam and Elsa’s for dinner tonight, she’ll go through their entire pantry, which is much less acceptable to do than gorging out on her own food. But nothing seems good, the cereal and bagels unappealing, the eggs and anything she has to cook even more so, and the only thing that she will even consider is a grapefruit…which may or may not be rotting.

It’s fine. She’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow…and also pick up all of the clothes and glasses that she has scattered throughout the house. It’s not that messy, something she’s worked on since messes drive Killian crazy, but if she knows her husband at all, he’ll come home, take her to bed, and then wake up to go and clean the house. So obviously she needs to clean up a little bit more, maybe break out a duster.

Dusting is the worst.

This view of the beach, though, is the best.

She and Killian have found that most of their time since they moved back (well, since Killian moved back and she moved for the first time) has been spent out on the covered deck or in their bedroom with the doors leading out to the balcony wide open. The sound of the ocean is a background noise she always wants, so she turns off the music on her phone, the guitars fading from the speakers, and sits on the cushioned swing, slightly swaying back and forth while she sips on her water and watches the shoreline. Their neighbor has her dog running through the water, the golden retriever leaping into the air to catch its toy, and Emma wonders if they should get a pet. She’s not sure how that would work during the times when they’re both gone, but it’d probably be nice to have a dog or a cat around when it’s just her, at least so there’s more noise than the air conditioning and the televisions that she leaves on at night.

But then again, Killian is coming home soon and she’ll have no need to replace him with a cat.

Wait. That sounds weird. She’s not replacing him with a cat, though they probably have the same amount of hair.

Whatever. She’ll think about it and bring it up with Killian sometime soon.

Her phone dings next to her, and she looks down expecting a text back from Killian or Mary Margaret only to see a notification that makes her stop breathing.

Seriously. Her breath hitches, her stomach rolls, and her mind starts running a marathon when she hasn’t gotten the chance to even lace up her sneakers.

You haven’t tracked your period lately! Make sure to update all information so we can monitor your cycles as accurately as possible.

Holy shit.

Holy freaking shit.

(Why did she just censor herself in the middle of a curse?)

While her heart decides to drop to her stomach and beat at what has to be an unhealthy amount of beats per minute, she clumsily attempts to unlock her phone, her thumb not being recognized so that she has to type in her wedding date for her screen to open up to her period tracker app. Her mind is so frazzled that nothing is really clear to her, not even the screen in front of her, and it’s because she’s trying to remember the last time she had her period. Her app says she hasn’t logged it since May, which means she didn’t do that in June or when her period was supposed to start two days ago.

And that’s fine. It really is. Two days is nothing. Two days is barely anything. And so what that she didn’t track anything last month. It’s an app. She forgot. Plus, she very well could have had her period last month without typing it into her phone. That’s possible. Not everything has to be logged into her phone to be real.

But did she have her period?

She honestly can’t remember. And it’s not like she can ask Killian. He hasn’t been here. He’s been thousands of miles away.

Shit.

Killian totally would have noticed, and he definitely can’t help her figure this out. Because she definitely can’t tell Killian that she’s trying to figure out if she missed her period…which means she’s trying to figure out if she’s –

Pregnant.

Well, there’s a word that she didn’t think she’d be thinking for a solid few months, maybe a year. Maybe even two.

Woah.

It’s not that they haven’t talked about it. They have. Killian is very big on talking things out even when she isn’t quite ready. They’ve talked about kids before, talked about the fact that they both want one, maybe two if the first one doesn’t kill them, but then back in March they’d been sitting in bed sharing a bag of chips while watching Stranger Things and Killian brought it up. It made sense. It really did. It’d been a gradually growing conversation, the lead up building, but when her face was stuffed with several salt and vinegar chips, she wasn’t really expecting to have to talk about the reality of what it would be like to have a baby and know that there’s the possibility of her having to raise the baby by herself if Killian is away. And then also how that can impact their future, impact their kid’s future. She knows that Killian wants to work less, or work closer to home more frequently, once they start their family, and that’s something they were talking about.

They were talking about trying when he got home.

It might be a little late for that.

Or early, really. She could be ahead of the game.

When in the world did she miss a pill?

Taking a deep breath, she tries to turn her mind off but can’t. She really is ahead of herself. She has no idea if she’s even pregnant yet, and she needs to take a test. But she most definitely does not want to take a test by herself, does not want to be sitting in the bathroom all alone when she finds out if her jeans aren’t about to fit in a few months (because that’s obviously the most important thing) and have no one know this secret but her, so she needs to shut this thought process down until Killian gets home.

Two weeks.

She can do two weeks.

By the time two o’clock rolls around, she’s spent the entire morning deep cleaning the house, deciding to take her worries and frustrations out on the things she needs to do, and she almost completely forgets that she could have an entire human being inside of her uterus.

(She’s a liar. She definitely doesn’t come anywhere near to forgetting.)

But then her phone rings, Killian’s face popping up on the screen from his contact, and she nearly vomits with nerves over the fact that she’s about to not tell him the reason she’s having a meltdown.

The vomiting thing is probably a sign, which is really a horrible symptom, and there should definitely be some kind of solution to that.

“Hello, beautiful,” Killian sighs, and she can practically feel his smile on the other end of the line, thousands of miles away in a hotel bed that’s not theirs. “How’s your Saturday?”

“It’s good.” That may be a lie. That may be the truth. She has no idea. “I slept in, cleaned a bit. I’m going to go to your brother’s for dinner later.”

“Emma Jones, you cleaned?” he gasps, and she rolls her eyes imagining him sitting shirtless in his room with his hand dramatically thrown over his heart. “Are you dying? Is there something you need to tell me?”

“No,” she blurts out, definitely too quickly before she scrambles to cover that up, “I just knew that if I didn’t clean now, I’d never have it up to your standards by the time you got home.”

“Love, all I care about when I get home is the fact that you’re going to be there.”

“Charmer.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“You’re definitely going to care about how clean the house is.”

“Eh.”

“Babe.”

“Love of my life.”

“Oh my God,” she groans, tossing the wipe she was cleaning the bookshelves with in the bin and walking toward the couch, falling back against the cushions and turning the phone on speaker before placing it on her chest, “you can’t just say things like that.”

“I can’t say the truth?”

“Not when you know you’re going to get me all flustered with it.”

“To be fair, love, you already seemed pretty flustered. You are cleaning, after all.”

“Hey, again. I clean.”

“Debatable.”

“KJ, I can change the locks on the house.”

“There’s always the windows. Hell, I’ll climb the damn balcony.”

She laughs despite herself and reaches down to tug at the robe she’s still wearing, pulling on the string before running her hand over her stomach, almost unconsciously. The words are on the tip of her tongue ready to be spilled, but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know if she’s right, if the words are true, but the one thing that she does know is that if she tells Killian she thinks she’s pregnant now, he won’t stop worrying about her until his feet step inside of this house.

And there’s still the fact that she doesn’t want to take the test alone.

Pushing it all aside. That’s what she’s going to do.

“You’ll climb the balcony to get to me?” she asks instead, going along with the conversation.

“I’ll climb the balcony to get to my bed. If you happen to be in it, so be it.”

“There you go charming me again.”

“I try.”

She and Killian talk until his words are a little slurred, sleep calling him more than she is, so she tells him goodbye and that she loves him, chanting that two more weeks mantra to him before she, too, falls asleep, waking hours later with pillow marks on her face and her phone flashing five seventeen, a little under an hour until she’s supposed to be at Liam’s.

She hasn’t even put on underwear yet. That’s probably something she should do. They’re family, but there are some things that family does not need to see. Her vagina is one of those.

Her thoughts get weirder every day.

Thirty minutes later she’s dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt, her hair underneath a baseball hat, and letting herself into Elsa’s house after knocking on the door, which is really only a courtesy since Liam tends to barge into their house…still. After one too many times walking in on she and Killian, she really figured he’d learn to wait for them to answer the door.

“Hey,” Elsa calls over her shoulder when Emma walks into the kitchen, “how are you?”

“Um, good,” she mumbles, sitting down at a barstool and tapping her fingers against the countertop, wishing she had something to settle her stomach and all of the unease that she’s going through. Her mind will not calm down, and she really needs to calm down. “How are you?”

“Great. It’s so hot, isn’t it? Liam is outside on the playset with Aiden, and they’re both going to be drenched when they come in. But Aiden insisted, you know?”

“Yeah.”

She taps her fingers again, thinking about Aiden and Liam and the bond that they have. If she and Killian have a son, will they have a bond like Aiden and Liam? Would it even matter if it was a boy? Killian would have a bond with a daughter too. So would she. But there’s something so cute about watching Liam with Aiden even if Aiden is the spitting image of Elsa.

Genetics and all that.

How would that work for her kid?

Her hypothetical kid.

“Emma?”

“Uh huh?”

“You want to stop playing an entire piano concert on my counter and tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“There’s nothing,” she lies, her voice a squeak as she looks up at Elsa and smiles, hoping that it’s a normal smile. “I have nothing on my mind except for how good that pasta smells. And the bread. I love your garlic bread.”

Elsa raises a perfectly groomed brow and flicks her braid over her shoulder, leaning forward and propping her elbows up on the island. “Emma, you can talk to me. You know that, right? You’re kind of going through a lot right now, and you can’t pretend that you’re not. You stay with us too often for me to not know how hard Killian being away is for you.”

“I’m fine.”

Elsa nods her head up and down once, twice, three times before tilting it back to her cabinets. “Do you want something to drink? I bought this new wine that I – ”

“No, I’m good,” she blurts out, completely and totally ready to bury her face in this granite. “I’ve got to drive home, and I really don’t think I want anything to drink.”

“Mmm, okay. Do you want to go to lunch this week? I think there’s this really great sushi place downtown that just opened.”

“Sure. I lo – oh, um, can we get something other than sushi? I think I’m going to give up fish.”

“Why?”

“A new diet or whatever. I’ve gained a few pounds.”

Lie.

They’re all lies.

When did she turn into such a bad liar?

“Ah,” Elsa sighs, resting her chin in the palm of her hand, “I get it. I, too, gained weight when I was pregnant. Though, I don’t think it was when I was as early on as you. Maybe you’re having twins.”

Every word that she knows flees from her brain. Every single one. She’s not sure if it’s the thought of her having twins or if Elsa has caught her in her lies, but honestly, it’s mostly the fact that she was caught that quickly.

Damn.

Elsa really is some kind of magical being who can read she and Killian far too well. It’s creepy and wonderful and terrifying all at once.

And she could most definitely cry right now simply because she is feeling all kinds of overwhelmed.

Emma leans forward to rest her face in her hands on the countertop, the cool marble refreshing. “How did you know?” she mumbles into her skin. “I don’t even know for sure.”

“It was a guess, but the no to wine and no to sushi, two things that you love, were a pretty big clue. Plus, you’re acting like a strung-out maniac.” She feels Elsa’s hand on her back, and when she opens her eyes, she can see that she’s moved to the other side of the counter to sit on the barstool next to her. “Have you taken a test?”

“I just realized I’d missed my period today. And I may have missed last month’s too. But, like, I haven’t been nauseous or anything, so I didn’t think about it. I honestly figured it was stress related.”

Elsa nods her head up and down, a soft smile on her face as she continues to rub Emma’s back. “I have some tests upstairs – no, I am not pregnant, but I had a scare a few weeks ago and bought, like, every test in the CVS I went to. Why don’t you go take one, just so you have a bit more peace of mind about it? And then when Killian comes home, you’ll either have some really great news to share or you can tell him about the time that you peed on a stick in his brother’s house with absolutely no context.”

She huffs, unable to stop herself or the twisting feeling inside of her, before leaning over on the stool and hugging Elsa, wanting all of the comfort and support that she can get since the rest of her support system are scattered across the country.

And the world.

Elsa asks if Emma wants her to come with to take the test, but she says that it’s alright, that she’d kind of like to do this part alone if she can’t have Killian with her. Even opening the box is nerve-wracking, but the worst part is definitely the waiting two minutes to find out if she’s going to be a mom a little bit sooner than she was expecting.

The phrase what to expect when you’re expecting comes to mind, and she feels like that can’t even really encompass everything.

How in the world do people do this every day?

It’s like a mixture of excitement and terror, and the only other place she’s ever felt like this is a rollercoaster.

That’s actually a pretty good metaphor for having a baby.

And according to the positive sign on the test, she is having one.

Wow.

It’s a lot to take in, but over the next two weeks, she becomes more accustomed to the fact. It helps that she makes a doctor’s appointment, gets it confirmed, finds out that her due date is February fifteenth, and that she is definitely not having twins.

She’s been secretly worried about that ever since Elsa made the joke.

That would be…overwhelming.

Mostly, though, as much as she’s gotten used to the idea, gotten excited about the idea, all she’s wanted to do was share it with Killian. And she’s not about to tell him he’s going to be a dad without him being in the same place as her. This is too big of a thing for her not to be able to hug him afterwards.

But he’s in the taxi on the way to the house right now, and she could throw up out of excitement. And the morning sickness that finally hit her, but that’s not what she wants to think about right now.

She’s definitely wearing down a hole into their hardwood from all of her pacing.

Her phone dings with an alert that there’s movement at the gate to the house, and her stomach does this actual swooping thing that should not at all be possible. It very apparently is, though. And while she’s never been a woman to want to run into someone’s arms out of excitement, that’s changed ever since she met Killian. When they were dating and had been apart for awhile, getting to see his face, even if it was for a day, was the greatest day. Now that she’s living apart from her friends, when she gets to go to Boston to see them, she most definitely runs into Ruby’s arms to hug the living daylights out of her. The same with David and Mary Margaret and their kids. And now that Killian’s been gone for months, she pretty much feels like her legs are going to launch her over the fence instead of into his arms.

Who knew it was possible to miss someone this much?

She guesses she did.

Instead of waiting inside like a sane person, she tosses her phone down onto the couch, and quickly walks outside, not even bothering to put shoes on. Her throat closes for a moment when she sees him, her eyes trying to take him in and catalog all of the differences and similarities all at once as he unloads his bags from the back of the car.

“Hey, Jones,” she calls out, running down the steps as he turns around, his hair flipping with the movement.

“Emma,” he laughs, his smile practically taking up his entire face.

God, she missed that smile.

It’s all a blur as she runs forward, her body colliding with his as her arms wrap around his neck and his arms wrap around her shoulders, tugging her closer so that she’s fully pressed against him. He’s solid, just like always, and his heat overwhelms her as she smells the slightest bit of his cologne mixing in with that awful airplane smell that seems to happen whenever anyone so much as steps into an airport.

He’s home.

“I missed you, Swan,” he murmurs into her ear, rubbing his hand up and down her back as he starts trailing his lips along her jawline, electric sparks spreading across every nerve ending that she has, some of them probably twice.

“I missed you, KJ.” She pulls back to look at him, her hands moving up his neck to cup his cheeks, thumbs tracing over his scruff and his freckles and everything as she looks at the blue eyes that she loves so much but has only been able to see through a video screen. And then she presses up on her toes and kisses him, kisses him like a woman who hasn’t been able to kiss her husband in months, a woman starved of the love and compassion that she’s been without for far too long. It’s all like coming to that safe comfort of home, which is perfect since he’s back and everything is in its right place.

“Hey, man, I need you to get your bags so I can go,” the taxi driver calls out at them, the displeasure in his voice obvious, and she and Killian break apart with blush on both of their cheeks.

“Sorry about that,” Killian grumbles, very obviously not too sorry about it, before he turns around to grab his backpack out of the backseat, handing the driver some cash, and closing the trunk before he drives off. “I don’t think that man liked watching you make out with me, Swan.”

“What’s not to like about it?”

“Exactly,” he winks, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer so that he can softly glide his lips over hers, his tongue quickly licking into her mouth in a burst of heat and pleasure before he’s retreating. “Darling, will you grab the black bag? I have no idea how I managed to pack so much stuff.”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

Killian reaches forward and slaps her ass, making her jump. “I missed that idiotic phrase.”

“As you should have.”

She picks up the black bag off the ground as Killian takes his others, the two of them carry them to the front door and placing them inside before Killian closes the front door and pushes her against it, her back hitting the wood as his hand snakes up underneath her shirt, warm flesh against her skin, and his lips start working at her neck, vibrations trembling down her spine.

“I have thought of you every day.” He punctuates each word with a kiss or a teasing of her skin with teeth, and she nearly melts right then and there at the deep rumble of his accent. “I’m not sure if I’m ever going to be able to do something like that again.”

“I love you,” she gasps out as his hand starts to fumble with the waistband of her leggings, yanking them down as heat curls between her thighs. But it’s then that she remembers that she has something kind of big to tell him. How could she possibly forget? “Wait, wait. Killian, wait.”

He pulls back, his head retreating into his neck as his brows raise and his eyes scan her face, typical Killian 101 trying to figure out what exactly is going on with her even as his hands still run across her stomach, itching to go beneath her leggings once more.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she promises, swiping her thumb across the apple of his cheek as her stomach does that twisting thing again. She needs it to stop. “It’s just that, well, I’m pregnant.”

It’s not the smoothest way to tell her husband that they’re going to be parents, but when has she even been smooth and graceful and perfect with her words? Never. He blinks a few times, his lashes landing against his cheeks, and when his lips part, she expects some kind of word, but it’s really more of a…squawk? Is that the right word? She has no idea.

“KJ?”

He blinks once more before leaning forward to press his forehead against hers, his nose pressing into her cheek and his lips lightly brushing over hers as he speaks. “You’re pregnant? We’re having a baby?”

“I mean, technically I am the one having a baby, but you helped us get there.”

“Thank goodness I’m the father. I was unsure for a minute.”

“Shut up, you idiot,” she laughs, shoving at his chest to move him away only for him to pull her closer.

“I may be an idiot, but I’m the father of your baby. You can’t change that.”

“This is not how you were supposed to react.”

“How was I supposed to react?”

“I don’t know. With affection or something?”

“Me teasing you about the paternity of our baby isn’t affection?”

“Eh, maybe.”

“If it’s a boy, we should name it Stan.”

She barks out a laugh, her head falling backwards, and everything in her life rights itself. Killian is home, he’s teasing her, and he’s so unbelievably happy that her stomach finally settles.

This is perfect.

“I am not doing that.”

“I was kidding,” he teases, pressing his lips against hers once, twice, three times.

“Were you though?”

“Possibly.” He fumbles around under her shirt until he’s pulling his hand out and grabbing onto her left wrist, brushing his lips on her wrist dot in the way that she’s missed, the romantic fool. “I love you, and this is by far the best welcome home I’ve ever received.”

“I know. I’ll probably never be able to live up to it.”

“You can always try.”

“Eh, too much effort.”

Killian chuckles before kissing her wrist again, holding it to his lips as his eyes close and a soft smile forms on his face. “My love, I will always be happy to see you, both of you.”

-/-

@ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @andiirivera @superchocovian @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @notoriouscs @mariakov81 @jonirobinson64 @ultimiflos @idristardis @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @lifeinahole27 @bmbbcs4evr

#cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan #betting on the bullseye

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lord-explosion-baku · 5 years

Text

Dancing’s Not A Crime (Unless You Do It Without Me) pt. 14

Bakugou x fem!reader, Todoroki x fem!reader

You flirt and tease with a certain hotheaded classmate of yours without realizing how far it has escalated and someone gets a little jealous.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, swearing, boys being jealous, uhhhh more angst

A/N: a brush of inspiration? Kinda. There won’t be more frequent updates so please don’t ask!! I am only a cherry tomatoe who has been plucked before she has ripened.

Part 13 or read from the beginning OR read a properly edited version on my AO3

“Monkey…”

You blinked and hot tears fell to your living room floor. Staring at your mother’s unmoving body, you clutched onto your stuffed dog, Speckle. A large hand touched your shoulder and you were pulled away and into your father’s cloak.

“Don’t look, sweetheart.”

“Why isn’t mommy waking up?” You whimpered out, wiping your wet face on your father’s robes.

He pet your head. “She,” he sighed. “Y/N, I’m going to ask you a very important question and I need you to answer honestly. Do you think you can do that for daddy?”

That was the rule. You always had to answer ‘important’ questions with the full truth. Often times you were rewarded for being so cooperative. You didn’t feel like you deserved any special treatment then.

“How long has mommy been hurting you like that? Is it always while I am away?”

You swallowed back at sob while more tears poured from your eyes. “She says that sometimes I’m not a good daughter. Sometimes I don’t obey her even when she’s singing. Sometimes mommy gets upset that I don’t want to help her. I don’t mean to make her so mad sometimes but-!” You cried louder. You didn’t understand the question. “Why won’t she get up?!”

Your father bent down and brought you into a tight hug. You trembled while you sobbed into his embrace.

“Oh Kira,” your father’s voice was sorrowful as he spoke to your mother. You’d never heard his voice get so low before. It was terrible. “Mommy’s should never treat their children like that, Y/N, and now Mommy has to sleep for a very long time. I’m… I’m sorry that I didn’t know about this sooner. Maybe something else could’ve been done. I haven’t been a very good father to you, have I?”

“A very long time…?” You tried to turn back to your mother’s display but your father wouldn’t let you. “Will she ever wake up?”

A single tear fell away from your father’s long lashes. “No, baby. She won’t ever wake up.”

A dark purple cloud of energy started pouring out of your father’s sleeves. The air grew cooler and your skin prickled as his magicks slid past you, enveloping your mother’s body. You heard a small crackle of thunder, familiar to you only when your father used his quirk, and it was over. Finally, you turned to see that the space before you was empty, your mother was missing, gone from your house, your life, your everything.

… so your brain… was an even bigger asshole than Katsuki Bakugou. You were already stressed the fuck out from the very long weekend you had, what with the date with Bakugou that had turned into a fight with that staple faced weirdo from the café, finding out that Todoroki, Midoriya, And Iida all fought the hero killer in their own, and Todoroki fucking kissing you in the hospital while you were worried about him! Not to mention that your internship was a complete bust with Uwabani stringing you, Yaoyarozu, and that 1-B girl, Kendo, around to her modeling gigs and throwing you all into her dumb commercial. Even when you went on patrols, you mostly stood back while Uwabani’s fans swarmed her. You craved action and you didn’t get any… except the kiss. And that was a huge problem.

Now you couldn’t even get a proper night’s sleep before you went back to school to face that problem. You rubbed away the excess sleep from your eyes and rolled out of bed. You weren’t going to cry. You’ve done your crying. You’ve known for a long time now that your biological father killed your mother. Even if he did it to ‘protect’ you, it didn’t change the fact that you loathed him but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be hurt by the not so distant memory.

You made your way to the closet and climbed up, using your shoe cubbies as stairs, to grab a cardboard box that has been untouched for years. In it, were some pictures you and drawings you furiously ignored but underneath it all laid your old stuffed dog. Your old pet you would animate when you were feeling lonely. You and Aizawa had cats so you didn’t need the pet but… the comfort was… something else. You didn’t want to bother Aizawa again, especially since you hadn’t told him about what had gone down during your date with Bakugou.

You threw yourself back into bed and squeezed your old toy under your chin. You wouldn’t cry, you told yourself again. Still, when your eyes finally fluttered closed again, your cheeks had already been stained. How stupid.

You really needed to laugh and you should thank Bakugou for providing you with such a glorious reason to. His once spiky hair was combed back nearly and flat against his head and he was trembling with rage while Sero and Kirishima poked fun at his new look.

“...I’ll kill you both!” He said through his teeth.

“I’d like to see you try, pretty boy!” Sero said, barely able to contain himself.

“What did you say!” And boom! His hair popped right back to its natural state and you tried, you tried not to laugh but you couldn’t help but double over with both Kirishima and Sero.

“Oh there it goes!”

You clutched your stomach while your other classmates talked about their internships. Apparently a lot of them, besides Iida, Todoroki, and Midoriya, had pretty eventful ones. You were kinda jealous.

Bakugou made his way over to you and a rush of guilt filled the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t told him about Todoroki kissing you. “At least I didn’t spend my internship, what, advertising hairspray?”

Ugh. That was unfair. You reached up and tousled his surprising soft spikes. “It’s too bad,” you smirked, “maybe you could’ve used some!”

He grabbed your hand and pushed it back to you, keeping his hands over yours. He leaned down, leveling his head with yours and whispered. “So, when were you planning on telling me about your little secret?”

Your eyes widened. He already knew about the kiss?! Your eyes darted to Todoroki who was sitting at his desk explaining that Endeavor had ‘saved’ them in Hosu City. He was talking to your other classmates but his eyes were on you. Did he fucking tell him? Would Todoroki do something like that? Honestly, he was full of surprises lately.

You turned back to Bakugou, face red with shame. “It’s not what you think,” you shied away from his piercing gaze, “I was worried for them so I visited them in Hosu and then he just… but I didn’t stop him. It didn’t mean anything though!”

Bakugou’s brows narrowed, trying to read your face. After a moment, he pulled you out of the class and set you against the wall, pressing his hand next to you. “Are you telling me that that half n’ half punk bastard kissed you?”

“Y-yeah? Isn’t that what you were asking about?”

“And you fucking let him?!” Oh Jesus Christ, he had no idea!

“It came out of nowhere, Bakugou! I was scared that he might’ve sustained critical damage or something and then… I don’t know! I didn’t ask him to!”

Bakugou’s lips twitched into a snarl. “Did you like it?”

“Bakugou!”

“Tsss!” He kicked the wall and you shuddered. You’ve never been afraid of Bakugou’s temper before but this time… you knew you had done something that actually hurt him… but it wasn’t like you guys were… official. “So you’re saying he took advantage of you?”

You shook your head. “No! I think… I think him, Iida, and Midoriya all went through something traumatic and-!”

“I’m done talking about this!” He hissed. You tried to reach out to him but he moved away from you. “I need a fucking moment, Y/N.”

You pressed your lips together and watched Bakugou shove his hands in his pockets. You stayed there frozen for a moment before turning on your heel and going back into class. That wasn’t… the worse case scenario.

You classmates’ eyes were on you as you walked over to your desk. Todoroki was on you immediately. You gave him a once over. He didn’t talk to you while you were at school.

“Are you okay?”

You kicked your feet together and wrapped your knuckles on your desk. Were you okay? Besides your lack of sleep, extreme guilt, and the heavy tension in your shoulders… “I’m fine.”

“Did you tell him…” Todoroki’s voice dropped to a whisper, “about us?”

If you had more energy, you would’ve groaned. “Todo,” You said, looking into his heterochromatic eyes, “there isn’t an ‘us.’”

“You say that now but Y/N,” his warm hand enveloped your own, “I know that I can change your mind…”

whispers could be heard from around the class. What the hell was Todoroki doing touching you like that in front of everyone?!

“HEY!” Smack! Bakugou slapped Todoroki’s hands away from yours, grabbed your arm, and pulled you away from Todoroki aaaaand-

Your lips met Bakugou’s and for a brief moment you forgot that you had an audience while Bakugou’s fingers met your chin and you were lost in the passion of the kiss. You moved your lips with him and felt him grin into the kiss before pulling away from you. You heard Mina let out an excited squeak.

Bakugou threw his arm around your waist and glared at Todoroki. “Keep your mitts off my girlfriend.”

Todoroki’s right arm started freezing over. “She’s not your girlfriend.”

“That’s enough,” Aizawa’s voice called from the front of the class. Todoroki’s ice disappeared and you could see Aizawa’s eyes glowing red, black hair swooping around him. “Class has begun. It’s time to stop acting idiotic and take your seats.”

Bakugou and Todoroki continued to glare at each other.

“I’m not going to ask again.” Aizawa was looking at you.

You gave Bakugou a push and scowled at Todoroki. “Go,” You said, sitting in your own desk.

Todoroki pushed into Bakugou’s shoulder as he past him to go to his chair. Bakugou’s hand flexed and you could see it start to light up. You grabbed it and gave it a squeeze. His eyes met yours and you kissed his knuckles. In a way, you were telling him that… maybe… you were his girlfriend.

He rolled his eyes and found his seat.

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you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus · 5 years

Text

Cyrus’ Dictionary

1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15

Summary: Cyrus has always been good with words; there’s a reason English is his favorite subject. But with TJ, he seems to be at a loss for words. When they get paired up for a summer assignment, Cyrus slowly starts to build a new dictionary. One that involves TJ and everything they do together. Along the way, maybe he’ll find the words to tell him how he feels.

Chapter 15: Redemancy

Word Count: 3618

Read on AO3

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

Cyrus groaned, blinking his eyes a few times. Once he adjusted to the light, he relaxed when he saw TJ by him. He tried to ignore everything that happened last night, but it was still pretty fresh in his mind. TJ and Marty talking, hugging. . .he shook his head. Rolling over, he grabbed his phone, scrolling through the messages he’d gotten.

[slayer: can u come over?]

[slayer: i need someone to talk to]

[slayer: please]

[Me: i’ll b there rlly soon!!]

Cyrus rolled off of the bed, stretching his arms up above his head. TJ squirmed in bed, waking up slowly. “What time is it?”

“Too early,” Cyrus mumbled, trading his pajama shirt for a normal t-shirt.

“Why are you awake?” TJ grumbled, tugging on the covers and wrapping himself in them until he looked like a cocoon.

“Buffy texted,” he replied, swapping his sweatpants for a pair of jeans, “said she wanted to talk, presumably about last night,”

TJ frowned, rubbing his face with his hands. “I should probably go talk to Marty, huh,” he murmured, “he seemed a little upset after last night,”

Cyrus nodded slowly, averting his gaze from TJ. He was not about to start crying again because of what happened. “Yeah. I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other much today,”

TJ’s lips curled into a frown. “That’s okay. I mean, we have enough entries in the journal as is,” he replied, “I’ll see you later tonight? I’m gonna have to catch up on a little summer work today,”

Cyrus agreed, grabbing his phone and heading towards the door. “I’ll see you later, Teej,” he said, before leaving the room.

TJ stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t do this anymore; he couldn’t keep this secret from Cyrus forever. It was eating him alive. Eventually he was going to find out. It might as well be today, he thought to himself.

Yeah, today was gonna be the day.

“And I don’t know what to do, because I don’t really wanna approach him and say something, because I think I’d just lose my train of thought, but like, ugh, I don’t want things to be over because I love him and I just-” she rambled, clapping a hand over her mouth.

“Ooh, Buffy Driscoll is in love,” Cyrus cooed, batting his lashes, “this is great, isn’t it?”

“Shit, did I really say that?” she wondered aloud, pacing the floor so hard, Cyrus thought she was going to burn a path in her room.

“You should tell him!” he exclaimed, “he loves you, you love him, things are good!”

Buffy shook her head, taking a seat on her bed. “What if he doesn’t feel the same anymore? What if that feeling is. . .gone?” she whispered, her voice growing softer with each word.

Cyrus took a seat by her, putting an arm around her. “I’m sure one argument doesn’t change the fact that he loves you,” he assured her.

“I don’t wanna talk to him right now. I’m sure he doesn’t want to talk to me either,” she stated, her voice trembling ever so slightly, but she tried her best to conceal that.

“You don’t know that. People make mistakes, say things they don’t mean, and hurt the ones that are close to them. But in the end, you still love them because you know that you’d rather have them in your life than not,” he explained, feeling like he was rambling.

“. . .you mean like how you feel about TJ?” Buffy added softly, leaning her head on Cyrus’ shoulder.

He groaned, putting a hand over his face. “Don’t remind me. I already yelled at Andi last night for implying something was there between us when nothing was,” he mumbled. Buffy perked up at that, putting a hand on his shoulder and smiling sympathetically.

“Cyrus,” she started softly, “I love you, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, but I am so sure that you guys are not just friends. You have to realize that. Do you not see how he treats you compared to everyone else? He loves you, Cy,” she gave his shoulder a squeeze.

Cyrus put his hands over his face. “He’s going to hate me,” he groaned, his words muffled.

“How is that even possible?” Buffy mused, rubbing circles into his back.

“If I tell him that I like him, he’s going to freak out and he’s not going to wanna be friends with me and-”

“-Cyrus, relax,” Buffy cut him off, “breathe. It’s just like you said. People that love you will want you in their lives no matter what,”

Cyrus scoffed, crossing his arms like a child. “I don’t like having my words used against me,” he whined.

“You’re welcome,” she smirked, putting her hair up into a bun.

“I’m serious, though. Talk to Marty,” Cyrus pleaded, taking both of her hands in his.

Buffy chuckled. “I’ll talk to Marty once you tell TJ you like him,” she joked, a silly grin on her face.

Cyrus paused, not saying anything for a beat. “Okay,”

Buffy couldn’t help but choke when he said that, a look of bewilderment on her face. “What?”

“I said okay,” he stated simply, shrugging, “If that’s what it takes for you to talk to him, then I’ll do it.” What did I just say? Why am I actually a disaster?

“Woah, I was just kidding,” Buffy assured him, “you don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready,”

“I’m never going to be ready,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m always going to run to the edge of the cliff, getting closer each time, but I’m always so scared to just jump. To just push past that last barrier that’s holding me back and just fucking do it already,” he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Language,” she mocked playfully, “you should be a writer, you know that. You’re really good at coming up with these analogies,”

He tapped her chest, pushing her back a little. “Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled, hesitating a little before he continued, “please talk to Marty. You guys mean a lot to each other,”

Buffy smiled softly, crossing her legs underneath her. “Talk to TJ. You guys mean a lot to each other,” she repeated.

Cyrus hopped off the bed and started for the the door. “Not again, Driscoll,” he announced, leaving.

Buffy chuckled, grabbing pair of sneakers and changing into athletic wear.

“I’m telling you it’s over,” Marty grumbled, wiping a line of sweat off of his hairline and taking a seat on the bench.

“It’s not over,” TJ replied, leaning back against the bench.

“How do you know that?” Marty snapped, puffing out a frustrated breath.

“Buffy cares way too much about you to just cut you off because of a silly argument,” he explained, “she can be petty, but not like that,”

“Silly? I told her I fucking loved her and what do I get in return? Nothing,” he retorted, crossing his arms.

“You don’t know that,” TJ said softly, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Pretty sure I do,” Marty sighed, intending for it to come out with venom lacing his voice, but he just sounded hurt.

“Things aren’t always what they seem, you know. Sometimes your brain plays tricks on you, telling yourself lies and you believe them,” TJ pointed out, intertwining his hands together.

“Where is this coming from, Kippen?” Marty asked, scratching his head.

TJ sighed, bracing himself. “Yesterday when we were talking in the basement, well, Cyrus. . .he thought that, you know. . .” he trailed, wincing at Marty’s groan.

“Please, no. Don’t tell me he thinks we’re-”

“-yup,” TJ cut in, shaking his head.

“But you told him there’s nothing between us, right?” he added, turning to TJ, “right?”

“Well. . .” he mumbled, smiling sadly.

Marty pushed his chest before he could say anything else. “You idiot!” he exclaimed, scoffing, “You do realize that he thinks you like me, right? He’s probably fucking heartbroken,” he scolded.

“The hell? Why would he be?” TJ questioned, kicking at the ground below him.

“You’re kidding me right?” Marty gawked, “dude, he likes you,”

“Dude he doesn’t,” TJ mimicked, rolling his eyes.

“Bet,” Marty said confidently.

“What?”

“I bet he likes you,” Marty repeated.

“And I bet that he doesn’t,” TJ countered.

“Fine then,” Marty frowned, “but you have to tell him that we’re nothing but friends,”

“And you have to talk to Buffy,”

Marty hesitated, his snarky attitude faltering. “. . .I don’t think she wants anything to do with me right now,”

“Lies,” he muttered, “look, if you talk to Buffy, I’ll talk to Cyrus,” he pleaded, extending a hand.

“Really?” Marty perked up.

“Really,” TJ promised. They shook on it, and all of sudden, TJ felt like this was going to be a lot harder than previously thought.

TJ pushed through his front door, the house seeming like it was a stranger’s now. His mom was in the kitchen, and Amber was sitting at the table having a snack. She nearly choked on her granola, seeing her brother in the door.

“What the hell?” Amber barely whispered, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I needed some things. Toothpaste, deodorant, the rest of my summer work,” he listed, starting up the stairs. Amber quickly followed behind him, the two of them going into his room.

“Nothing’s changed, huh,” he joked, heading into his bathroom and gathering his things.

“I could have brought you these things, dumbass,” Amber hissed, “you shouldn’t have come back here,”

“She was going to have to see me eventually, Amber,” he retorted, taking a seat on his bed for a moment. In a way, he missed it; he missed having Amber right next door. Having her there whenever things went wrong. On his way out, he saw a picture frame, with him and Cyrus from the Christmas store in it.

“You did this?” TJ asked Amber, holding up the frame.

Amber nodded sheepishly. “I thought it might make you smile,” she admitted, coming up beside her brother.

“Thanks,” he murmured, “I love it. . .but I should probably get going,” he sighed, walking towards the door. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he didn’t see his mom, and let out a breath me didn’t know he was holding.

“How are things with you and Cyrus?” Amber asked, following him down.

“He thinks I have a crush on Marty,” he deadpanned, slipping his shoes back on.

“What on earth gave him that impression?” she gawked, leaning against the wall. So TJ launched into the story about last night, all about paranoia, Cyrus’ argument with Andi, and where they stood right now.

“Talk to him dammit,” Amber mumbled, grabbing a soda out of the fridge.

“Thanks captain obvious,” he groaned, before shifting the subject, “how are things with Andi?”

“We’re alright. A little shaken up by you leaving, but she’s been great,” Amber reminisced, “do you know when you’re going to come back?” she asked meekly, her voice small.

TJ shrugged, hand on the doorknob. “Not sure. Soon, I hope. I miss you,”

Amber reached forward, pulling him into a hug. “I miss you too. Tell Cyrus I said hi,”

“I will,” TJ promised, before he left, shutting the door softly behind him.

Her mom came in from the other room, setting her cup down with a definite clink. “Things with you and Andi?”

Buffy quickly walked down the sidewalk, heading towards the courts. She kept her gaze on the ground, counting all the cracks in the sidewalk. She needed to clear her head; do anything to distract herself. But when she looked up, she felt all the air knocked out of her lungs. Marty was standing a few yards in front of her, making direct eye contact. Both of them, slowed their pace, coming closer and closer, until they were just a few feet apart. Both of them opened their mouth to say something, both speaking at once.

“I’m sorry,”

“I love you,”

“What?”

“You first,” Buffy insisted, rocking back on her heels.

“I’m. . sorry. For blowing up last night. I just. . .I don’t know. I felt really. . .unimportant to you,” he admitted, holding his breath to refrain from crying.

Buffy frowned, reaching out and grabbing his hand. “That is so far from the truth, Marty,”

“Evidently, yes,” he chuckled, giving her hand a squeeze.

“I do, though, love you, that is,” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand, “I was talking to Cyrus and it just flowed out naturally,”

Marty smiled, taking a step forward. “Sorry for making you feel like you had to say it back,” he said sheepishly.

“You didn’t,” she said, shaking her head, “Don’t worry. I’m just…glad things are okay,”

“You didn’t think they were?” Marty asked, rubbing her hand with his thumb.

“I thought that,” she hesitated, blinking harshly, “. . .that there wasn’t going to be an ‘us’ anymore,” she admitted.

“Are you insane? You’re so important to me, Buffy,” he croaked, pulling her in for a tight hug. Man, how he had missed this.

“I love you,” she whispered against his neck, shutting her eyes. And she meant it from the depth of her soul; she really did love him.

“I love you too,”

Later in the night, TJ ran up the stairs of Cyrus’ house, nearly bumping into Leslie in the process. He burst into Cyrus’ room, where he was peacefully sitting on his bed and reading.

“I don’t have a crush on Marty,” he blurted out, trying to catch his breath. He shut the door, inhaling deeply.

“. . .okay?” Cyrus chimed in, putting a slip of paper in the book and setting it aside. He patted the bed for TJ to come sit, which he did.

“I know. . .you probably think I do because of last night, but I don't. We’re just friends,” he promised him, feeling his heart pounding against his ribs.

“Oh. Okay,” Cyrus replied after a beat, his hands reaching for his book, before TJ spoke again.

“I went back home today,” he blurted out, clapping a hand over his mouth as soon as he spoke. So much for maintaining his cool.

Cyrus nearly dropped his book on his foot, turning to TJ with a look of concern and bewilderment. “You did? Why, what happened?”

TJ shrugged, pulling his knees into his chest. “I needed to grab summer homework, and also toothpaste and deodorant and things like that,” he explained, as if it were the most simple thing in the world.

“I have those here, I could have given them to you, Teej,” Cyrus sighed, rubbing his temples. The thought of TJ going back home, and possibly interacting with his mom. . .it made him sick.

TJ shook his head, waving Cyrus off. “I already feel like I’m intruding. I didn’t want you to worry,”

Cyrus took his hand, interlacing it with his. “You’re not intruding. I really like having you here,” he admitted, tracing circles into TJ’s hand.

TJ hesitated, thinking back to his thoughts this morning. What the hell, he thought. “We’re. . .we’re gonna be friends no matter what, right?”

“Of-of course,” Cyrus assured him, his eyebrows knitting up in confusion, “is everything okay?”

TJ breathed out shakily. “Friends don’t. . .they don’t do things like this,” he said softly.

Cyrus looked down at their hands; he could hear the blood roaring in his ears, his heart humming, no longer beating, as far as he could tell. “I mean. . .” he trailed, too afraid to say anything more; he was already treading into dangerous territory.

“They don’t,” TJ said firmly, giving Cyrus’ hand an uncertain squeeze. His heart was in his throat, and he felt like he could barely breathe.

Cyrus opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out; all the words died on the tip of his tongue. He felt like he was on the edge of a cliff, and the final pebble was about to give way. He could almost feel the ocean’s breeze, nearly taste the salty water. He was so close, yet so far at the same time.

TJ didn’t say anything either. He was scared; so scared. More afraid than when he told his mom he was gay. More afraid than when he’d almost gotten in a car crash when he’d started to learn how to drive. In this moment, he realized how fragile his relationship with Cyrus was. In a few words, he worried he could lose him, and that was the worst fear of them all. His hands started to tremble involuntarily, and he wouldn’t have noticed this unless Cyrus had put his hands on top of his own.

“Hey, hey, Teej,” he whispered, rubbing his hands gently, “I’m right here. Whatever it is, it’s okay,”

TJ shook his head, nearly choking on the lump in his throat. “You’re going to hate me,” he choked out, squeezing his eyes so tight he saw colors.

Cyrus felt like someone had just taken his heart and thrown it on the ground, shattering it into a million pieces. “How could I hate someone that I love?”

TJ didn’t even bat an eye at that; Cyrus might as well have added ‘platonically’ at the end of that sentence, and it would be all the same. He looked down at their hands; he was going to miss doing this. Having moments like these. It hurt, but it hurt more hiding everything.

“I like you,” he squeaked out, a shaky sob escaping his lips, “I’ve known for so long. I can’t remember back to a time when I didn’t,”

“Okay,” Cyrus started, but TJ kept talking.

“That’s not even all,” he stammered, “I-I knew I liked you when I felt nervous around you, and my heart would beat faster when I saw you. . . but I knew I loved you when I felt calmer being with you,” he admitted. He wanted to stop talking so badly, but it was like he had no control over what he said. It was all in the open now; he didn’t even have the guts to look at Cyrus. He wanted Cyrus to say something, anything. And the next thing he knew, Cyrus had flung his arms around him.

“I love you too,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, fearing that if it’s too loud, he’s going to wake up from this dream. Tears were trickling down his face, and he couldn’t put into words how good it felt to finally get those words off his chest.

Reluctantly, he pulled back from the hug, but intertwined his hands with TJ’s. “Teej, I-I’m so in love with you, I don’t even know where to start,” he stammered, all choked up that he could barely form words, “You’re the first morning breath, the last evening sigh, and every damn thing in between. and fuck, I got so pissed at Andi yesterday for telling me that there could be some ‘us’. because I just. . .I couldn’t imagine that you could like someone like me. You deserve the world,” he whispered, tears flowing much more freely now.

TJ didn’t say anything for a while; he tried to compose himself, but every time he replayed Cyrus’ words in his head, he started back at square one.

“You are my world, Cyrus. It’s so hard to put into words that I love you because I’ve never loved anyone before. Amber, sure, but, never like this,” he wept, pulling him in for another hug. He couldn’t describe what he was feeling; everything was so overwhelming, that it almost felt numbing.

“This is really sappy,” Cyrus sputtered, breaking into a fit of giggles, which sent TJ laughing too. Both of them were dizzy with excitement and happiness, their stomachs aching from all their laughing. How Cyrus had missed that sound. When they’d calmed down they rested on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

“I still can’t forget about that time I made you pretty much hate me,” TJ spoke, wincing. Leave it to him to ruin a perfectly sweet moment.

“It’s okay,” Cyrus murmured, taking TJ’s hand, “we’re past that,”

TJ shook his head, turning to face Cyrus. “Don’t you worry? Aren’t you scared I’m going to say something horrible when I’m angry? I’m a monster,” he whimpered. It was true, to him. He really hated when he got upset easily.

Cyrus scooted over, coming over so closely that their noses were touching. “Believe me, I’ve had demons in my mind and you’re the angel that saved me from myself. Besides, not all monsters are bad,”

TJ smiled, pulling back a little. “So you are saying that I’m a monster?”

Cyrus tapped his chest lightly, pouting. “Shut up,” he giggled, wiping the tear tracks from his face.

TJ peered over at the clock; it was almost 10:30. “Most people kiss at this point,” he whispered, smiling mischievously.

“But we’re not most people,” Cyrus added, pulling TJ off of the bed so he could shift the covers.

“No, we’re not. But I really like us,” TJ cooed, scooting into bed and making room for Cyrus.

“Me too,” Cyrus mumbled, grabbing his journal and flipping to the back. He didn’t need a thesaurus to help him with this word.

redemancy: the act of loving one who loves you; a love returned in full

TJ peered over at his journal, barely making out a list of words, since he didn’t have his glasses on. “What’s that?”

Cyrus smiled, shutting the journal and setting it aside. “I’ll tell you tomorrow,” he promised, taking TJ’s hand and intertwining it in his own.

“Night, Teej,” he whispered, curling up by his shoulder.

“Night, Cy,” he murmured, relaxing against his touch.

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