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ambitionsource · 1 year ago

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AMBITION “Living Memory” [ 4.11 ]♮PART 1, half 1

RECAP

Over the shot of Isa and Farkle finally, finally having their first kiss:

Josh, voiceover: Previously, on AMBITION…

Last episode alone was a rush of major, life-changing moments -- violations of autonomy (with Justin’s forceful moves on Maya); hail Mary auditions (Vanessa), and the dawn of profound realizations (cue Zay staring at Charlie and suddenly no longer able to run from the truth that he has been, and remains, so irrevocably in love with him). Relationships erupting into excited, bright new starts -- if you’re Isa & Farkle -- while others crumble into resigned, quiet surrender.

Vanessa: Who does it help to pretend like that isn’t how things are? Who are we protecting? The only people we’re going to hurt are ourselves -- and it’s not fair, Zay. To me, or to you. [ with a shaky breath ] So what are we doing?

For every unspoken epiphany, however, there was an equally volcanic confession. Nigel informed his family of his desire to leave NYU and potentially transfer overseas to a less-than-enthusiastic reception…

Nigel: Hell, when I talked about Zay going out for all these touring auditions and stuff, you said it was cool. You said you hoped it worked out for him. Why is it great when he does it, but when I want to try for something more it’s -- Liezel, frazzled: You are not Zay Babineaux!

And Charlie managed to defy even that, finally revealing his true identity to his mother with predictable, yet still tragic, results.

Charlie, desperate: Mom, this isn’t -- I’m still me! I’m still your son -- Eleanor: Don’t say that to me! Stop lying!

In spite of all that, there was some levity… of a sort, as Yindra took an unconventional and truly wild boat ride for the weekend in the aim of making it into the coveted, elite girl group being developed by Jupiter Records. Although she gave it her all, it’s a wonder what might happen next, considering the experience itself -- full of panic attacks, smashed bottles, and catty gossip -- left little insight as to what might happen next. Hollywood might just prove to be more unpredictable than Adams Academy.

Kimmy: Stop, y’all. We’re women supporting women…

Somehow, all of this chaos -- new career moves, new betrayals, and the hard launch of romances new and long-thought-passed -- happened amidst the true universal centerpiece of life and death. For every start, there is an end, and Kenneth Friar finally met his after a long, tiring, and emotionally complex wait. How Lucas and Grace move forward in the aftermath, carrying all that mixed grief, remains to be seen.

Charlie: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…”

It’s the circle of life, and as our curtain rises on another episode, it begins again. Every action has an equal opposite reaction; every closed door invites another one to open. What gentle ends and potential new starts await us next -- and what ones came before that brought us to this moment of time in the first place?

If AMBITION has shown us anything so far, it’s that there’s certainly a story beneath every stone just waiting to be turned and told… so as autumn leaves fall in our world and new ones grow in theirs…

Yeah I’ll be singing Hallelujah, whether you like it or not!

End of recap.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - DAY

Sunlight filters in through the curtains, casting the room in a warm glow. It’s still early, so FARKLE MINKUS and ISA DE LA CRUZ have yet to get out of bed.

Even when Isa starts to stir, they’re not in any rush to get moving. They let their eyes flutter open and roll onto their back, looking up at the unfamiliar ceiling. For a long moment, confusion reigns -- where are they again? What are they wearing? How did they end up here?

Then they turn their head to look at Farkle, and it all comes back in an instant.

The letter in a well-worn shared novel. The confessions; the unexpected and new forms of expression. The stuff they did with him -- with their best friend -- that they never believed could happen in real life.

But it did. Somehow, they ended up in bed with Farkle, and based on the fond expression on their face, they wouldn’t change that fact for anything.

He’s still sleeping peacefully, and Isa has no intention of waking him. They’re still drowsy themselves, and have half a mind to just drift back to sleep. They figure they’ll quick check their phone, see the time, and then disappear back into the blissful calm for a little while longer.

The peace doesn’t last.

Upon looking at their phone, Isa discovers they have missed texts. Quite a few, in fact -- one from Dylan, two from Riley. Several from Eric. As soon as they open them and read the messages, they’re wide awake.

Isa: Holy shit.

They sit upright, immediately dialing a number. When someone picks up on the other end, they forget to stay quiet, speaking at full volume and startling Farkle awake next to them.

Isa: Riley? I just saw your texts -- what the fuck is --

Whatever she says on the other end of the line, it leaves Isa gobsmacked. Not that the news is surprising -- they all knew it was coming -- yet it still lands like a bomb anyway. Isa climbs out of bed and gets to their feet, pacing the floor as they listen. Farkle pushes himself upright, still half-asleep but obviously concerned by their behavior.

Farkle: What’s wrong? Is everything -- Isa: [ to Riley ] So he’s dead. [ meeting Farkle’s eyes ] He’s really dead.

Farkle’s eyes widen, matching their somber expression.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - LATER - DAY

Isa is getting ready to go in a rush, Farkle helping them gather their things. Everything is frantic, neither of them having a second to breathe.

Farkle: The car will get you to Burbank. Do you need me to help with a flight, or -- ? Isa: No. No, uh, Zachary said he’d arrange the plane for me. Since it’s an emergency. Farkle: Okay, good. That’s good.

But they’ve got to go. Like now. It already feels like they’re days late. Farkle zips up Isa’s suitcase and helps carry it to the door where they’re slipping on their backpack.

Farkle: Well, okay, um, text me when you get on the plane. And when you land. Isa: I will. Farkle: And tell Lucas -- well, I feel for him. Let them know if there’s anything I can do -- Isa: Yeah. Yeah, will do.

Isa starts to head out the door, so distracted they don’t even think to say goodbye. Then they seem to remember something, viscerally, doubling back before Farkle shuts the door.

Isa: Wait, wait -- !

Farkle hears them just in time, giving them enough of a chance to slip back through the doorway and pull him into a kiss. Somewhat a goodbye, somewhat a reassurance; a desperate grasp for comfort in the midst of new chaos.

When they pull apart, Isa offers a hasty promise.

Isa: Talk to you later.

Farkle nods, managing a smile in spite of the confusion.

Then Isa is gone, shutting the door behind them. Farkle blankly follows a couple of steps after them, gently pressing his fingers to the cold surface of the door.

He sighs and spins to lean back against it, left in a total daze.

EXT. BURBANK AIRPORT - APRON - DAY

Isa jogs to board the small private jet waiting on the tarmac, the engine humming loudly.

INT. MACNAMARA PLANE - CABIN - DAY

They collapse into their seat, already exhausted, as the pilot informs them they’ll be taking off shortly. Isa goes to buckle their seatbelt and then pulls out their phone, shooting a text to their group chat with Dylan and Riley that they’ll be there ASAP.

It’s only once they’ve begun taxiing that Isa realizes one little detail about their current attire -- they’re still wearing Farkle’s sweater from the night before. Oops.

Pilot, off-screen: All passengers, please prepare for take-off. We’re all clear for departure.

Too late to change now… and honestly, it seems like Isa might find just a bit of comfort in that. They cross their arms and hug themselves lightly, looking out the window at the glaringly blue Los Angeles sky.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Not so in New York, where an overcast sky paints the city dismally grey even at sunset. A light drizzle leaves a shimmer on the concrete jungle, making it all feel even more monochromatic.

INT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - DAY

On the television, a local weather report notes that the cloudy, rainy weather is set to hang overhead for the next couple of weeks.

But no one is paying much attention to the television. CHARLIE GARDNER is half-eyeing it, but he’s more so listening to RILEY MATTHEWS converse quietly with ASHER GARCIA and DYLAN ORLANDO, who finally made it down from Rochester in the last few hours. When there’s an urgent knock at the door, Charlie is the one to answer it.

Isa is on the other side, still loaded down with their bags as they came straight from the airport. Charlie exchanges a weak smile with them and offers to get their things off their hands, giving Isa the chance to greet the others.

They don’t say much -- what is there to say -- but Isa does accept a tight hug from Dylan. When they let go, he does hesitate on their new yet vaguely familiar sweater, but opts not to comment.

Isa breaks the quiet first, glancing around to make sure they’re not missing the obvious before asking what’s on their mind.

Isa: Is he here?

EXT. CHARLIE’S APARTMENT - FIRE ESCAPE - DAY

LUCAS JAMES FRIAR is alone, hiding out on the cramped fire escape outside their apartment even with the drizzle. He has his arms wrapped around his knees, pulled in close on himself. His expression is blank, empty, which is almost more telling than if he seemed outright emotional.

Moments later, the window creaks open. Lucas doesn’t move as Isa climbs onto the fire escape to join him, settling down across from him and mirroring his posture.

He doesn’t acknowledge them. They don’t expect him to. They don’t need to say anything -- they used to do this routine all the time, back in the day. The quiet is fine.

They’re there. That’s what matters. And right now, after what’s just happened, it matters more than ever.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

A newspaper lands backside up on the doorstep of a home in the Quincy High neighborhood, already smudging slightly from the rain. The bottom right corner of the visible page becomes our focus, as we ease to get a better look.

The obituaries. There, prominently featured, is a black and white photograph of Kenneth Friar.

Community mourns a beloved coach, teacher, and father Kenneth James Friar 1981 - 2022

The rain starts to pick up, splattering on the paper and causing the ink to run. As Kenneth’s image starts to blur and blend, a distant drum line picks up… then it grows more prominent, as if it’s marching closer…

EXT. TEXAS HIGH SCHOOL - FOOTBALL FIELD - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

That’s because it basically is -- marching, that is.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Tusk” as performed by USC Trojan Marching Band || Instrumental

We’ve been transported back in time, smack dab into the middle of a high energy, high enthusiasm football game. Bleacher stands are packed on both sides; the high school marching band is getting folks hype. Cheerleaders are hollering and doing their choreography, with frenzied pom-pom movements and cheerful chants that the people in the stands echo. The outfits are delightfully mid-90s, and there is no rain in the sky here.

Suffice to say, it’s a far cry from the arts-centric, modern world of Adams we’ve grown used to.

That being said, it doesn’t seem like everyone’s cup of tea there either. In the shadows of the bleachers, a girl watches uncertainly, hovering just out of sight and getting a good look at the crowds without letting herself be seen. She’s petite, with ash blond hair plaited over her shoulder and a shy disposition. The whole scene seems just a bit too loud, too overwhelming for her. While she’s got on a cute sundress, you can hardly tell, as she’s hidden behind an oversized denim jacket that she’s practically swimming in.

It’s a younger Grace Friar, or as she was once known, GRACE KINSLEY (16). And before she was stuck in New York, living the non-life she is now, she was a teenager just like our mains.

The game continues out on the field, giving the cheerleaders the chance to reset and grab some water. This is when one of them catches Grace lingering by the bleachers, brightening and grabbing her attention with a wave. She enthusiastically gestures her over to the fence, and after a moment, Grace reluctantly leaves the sidelines and comes to meet her.

The cheerleader who greets her is full of bubbly charm, tall even as a teenager with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. She has deep red hair, as fiery as her personality, only tamed right now by necessity into a tight ponytail. Her grin makes up for it, though. This is RACHEL MCGUIRE (16).

She bounces on her feet as Grace approaches, reaching over the chainlink to give her a hug once she reaches the fence.

Rachel: You came! I can’t believe it. Grace: Yes, against my better judgment. Rachel: Oh, wah wah. You are so prosaic. Grace: Did you just pick that one up from the thesaurus today? I don’t think you’re using it right. Rachel: Maaaybe. But whatever, I’m just so glad you’re here! Isn’t it fun? Don’t you just love the energy? Grace: It is… something. All right.

Rachel rolls her eyes. Even if she isn’t going to convert her best friend to the wonderful ways of school spirit, she got her to come to at least one game this year, so she’ll consider that a win.

Rachel: And you’re coming to the party, right? It’s going to be so crunk.

Grace wrinkles her nose. That sounds like the last thing she’d rather do… this scene is already raucous enough. But Rachel senses her hesitation and before she can even say no, the redhead gives her a signature pout, signaling she’s not going to let this drop.

Rachel: Come on, please? Just once. For me. Grace: I don’t know… Rachel: Just for an hour. For thirty minutes. Hell, if you walk in and last five minutes, I swear I will stop asking to copy your English homework. [ taking her hands ] Gracie, it’s our junior year. I want you to experience one party before we graduate and become decrepit old people. Cheerleader: Rachel, come on! We need to get ready for the pyramid! Rachel: Lay off, Jessica! [ back to Grace ] Pleeease?

Well… when she looks at her like that, how can she say no? Grace’s turn to roll her eyes, but she can’t help but smile as she caves and agrees. Rachel jumps with glee and claps their hands together.

When Rachel turns to focus back on her squadmates, something catches her eye on the field.

A couple of football players are looking at them. Two of the cute seniors, the taller of whom is definitely eyeing Grace behind her.

Delightful. Rachel’s eyes widen with excitement, and she leans back to get Grace’s attention again.

Rachel: Gracie. That guy is totally looking at you. Grace: Huh? [ with a slight frown ] Shut up. No he isn’t. Rachel: Yes he so is. I saw it. Oh my God, imagine, you come to your first football game and walk away with suitors? Talk about proving me right that you need to get out more often. Grace: No -- that’s not -- shut up. [ crossing her arms ] They’re not even looking over here. He’s looking at the game. Rachel: The game is on time-out. And he was definitely looking at you. Grace: Doubtful. Maybe he thought I was someone else. Rachel: Is it so impossible to believe that -- Jessica: Rachel!

God, Jessica, could you chillax! Rachel groans, telling Grace they’ll pick this back up later. Grace seems grateful for the escape, gesturing Rachel on her way. She does a little mocking pom-pom move.

Grace: Stay balanced.

Rachel sticks her tongue out at her, then jogs to go join the other cheerleaders. Grace hangs by the fence for a moment longer, taking in the hectic scenery all around her… certainly more her best friend’s domain than her own…

And then she sees it, too. When she looks towards the field at the players, as they get ready for their next play, the left tackle on their team glances in her direction -- and seems to look directly at her.

She doesn’t know him. He doesn’t know her. But his blue eyes are like lightning, even all the way from there… and when he smiles slightly a second later, thunder rattles Grace’s bones.

Well, that’s enough being present and seen for one night. If only that was all. Grace whips around and makes a beeline back for the bleachers, a flush rising up her cheeks. She glances back over her shoulder only once the next play has started and there’s no chance he’ll still be looking at her.

In the rush of movement, all she can make out is the bright white “F” starting the lettering on the back of his football jersey.

Then he blocks an offense maneuver from the opposing team, and the crowd in the stands goes nuts around her, totally dominating the soundscape. The horns of “Tusk” blare loudly --

INT. HOUSE PARTY - FLASHBACK - NIGHT

And become the opening notes of an iconic party banger, playing through the tinny speakers available to the high school teens of the nineties.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Girls Just Want To Have Fun” as performed by Cyndi Lauper || Instrumental

The mood is jubilant at the afterparty for the game, as it appears the home team carried victory. At least, that’s the impression you get as you watch the crowd of players hoot and chant for each other in the living room and chug down celebratory cans of beer.

At the same time, the cheerleaders are having a toast of their own, all raising their red solo cups and taking a shot of whatever their vodka of choice is. Rachel has dragged Grace into this circle as well, who dutifully sips her red solo cup along with the rest but with markedly less confidence.

Once the group disperses a bit, Rachel turns back to her friend and reemphasizes how glad she is that she decided to come out for once. She’s now let her cheer ponytail down and is fluffing out her hair, which looks even more vibrant red in the mood lighting of the party. Instinctively, she reaches out and starts to affectionately nitpick Grace’s hair too.

Grace: Don’t waste your effort. I’m never going to look like you. Rachel: You’re right. That is, I could never be as effortlessly adorable as you are.

She gives Grace a boop on the nose.

Grace: Okay, so, you’re already clearly drunk. Rachel: Am not. Not all of us are lightweights like you. I just happen to know what I’m talking about, which is that you are beautiful and smart and now that you’ve escaped your self-inflicted dungeon of imprisonment -- Grace: I don’t think being an introvert is -- Rachel: The whole world is going to see it too.

Rachel nudges Grace into taking off her armor of denim, allowing her cute dress to see the light of day. She helps her tie the jacket around her waist.

Grace: Maybe, but I’m not sure that’ll do much to cover up the whole… being boring and smelling like hay because I live on a farm thing. Rachel: All part of the allure. [ off her head shake ] I mean, mister left tackle certainly already noticed…

Oh, not this again… Grace grows more shy, pushing some stray hair behind her ear.

Grace: Again, you’re exaggerating. Rachel: Am not. Grace: Why would he even -- he was probably looking at you. You were right in front of me. We don’t even know each other. Rachel: As if that matters? In this case, it really doesn’t. He doesn’t know most people. He’s that senior that transferred over from Claremont. Which is good, because our last left tackle was so shit. But anyway, knowing someone or not does not preclude one from wanting to know someone. Which he does. Want to know you. Grace: How could you possibly know that? Rachel: Because I know things. Because I’ve had three boyfriends, and they all have to start somewhere. [ glancing over her shoulder ] And because he’s looking our way right now.

Rachel’s smile is downright overjoyed. Grace frowns and looks over her shoulder.

She wasn’t lying. The left tackle from earlier is chatting with the quarterback and another player, easy smile on his face… and he keeps glancing over at them.

At her.

Grace whips back around, all levity gone from her expression.

Grace: Oh my God. Rachel: I told you. I told you! Grace: Shut up. Shut up. It’s not -- they’re just looking. It’s not like… it’s not like he’s over here. Rachel: True… for now.

Rachel’s smile widens. She nonchalantly pushes away from the counter and traipses her way towards the boys, Grace watching her in mild horror.

Grace: [ in a whisper ] Rach. Rachel! Come back!

Rachel tosses her a wink over her shoulder, then flips her hair to prime volume as she saunters over to join the footballers. She begins to chat up the quarterback, complimenting him on the excellent win…

And giving mister left tackle a wide open playing field. Grace curses to herself and spins back to face the drinks on the counter, no clue what to do with herself. He probably won’t come over here. Why would he? Rachel is right in front of him now -- he’ll probably become enamored with her. Most men do. Plus, it would be a lot of effort to walk over here and talk up a wallflower. She’s worrying over nothing.

Even so, she feels compelled to seek out some courage. Grace reaches for the vodka bottle and quickly pours herself another shot, downing it compulsively before she can regret it.

Lo and behold, Rachel was right on the money. Grace swallows the liquor and grimaces at the burn in her throat, but she pulls herself back together right before another figure comes over to join her.

Left Tackle: Not bad. Don’t think I could down one of those that fast. Willing to pour me one, and we’ll find out?

Grace braves meeting his eyes, getting a better look at him. And boy, once she does, it is hard to look away. He was striking across the field, but he’s absolutely mesmerizing up close. Tall, well-muscled, with sun-kissed skin and sandy blonde hair. It’s clean cut on the sides but a bit longer on top, Freddie Prinze Jr. style, now fully visible without the football helmet.

Then there’s the eyes. Oh, those eyes.

Grace clears her throat, then does a little shrug. Somehow, she manages to come off coy, despite how her knees feel like jelly.

Grace: I don’t know. Probably not a good idea. I don’t want to be responsible for taking down our prized new left tackle.

He laughs, and the sound makes Grace crack a smile without even trying. And if that wasn’t enough, his smile is absolutely killer.

Left Tackle: Damn, if I’m going to be taken down by the cute little thing by the bar, I think my football career is in trouble. The offense on the other team ain’t got nothin’ on you, huh?

Grace shrugs again, figuring saying nothing is wiser than whatever stupid stuff might come out of her mouth. She’s never been great with words -- spoken ones, at least.

Thankfully, this seems to intrigue him rather than put him off. He leans against the counter.

Left Tackle: Well, if I’ve met my match, I’d at least like to know the name of the girl who is destined to take me down. Can I wrangle that much?

Hm, smooth… Grace contemplates for a long moment…

Grace: Grace.

Pretty. The left tackle smiles brighter, obviously thinking so himself, before nodding.

Left Tackle: Grace. Like the sound of that. [ holding out a hand ] I’m Kenneth.

Grace holds his gaze, taking him in, before letting her eyes drift down to his outstretched hand.

After a second, she takes it.

Cue title sequence.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

The rain continues, creating puddles on the grey sidewalks. A fresh but soggy newspaper left on the doorstep of a different apartment building remarks on the relentless torrent of dreary weather while also giving a subtle nod to the passage of time. Lettering onscreen emphasizes it moments later…

Three weeks later.

From there, the camera pans upward, heading to an upper floor.

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - NIGEL’S BEDROOM - DAY

NIGEL CHEY finishes zipping up his bag, ensuring it’s sealed tight before he ventures out into the rain. Droplets patter against his window as he secures his windbreaker.

He tosses a glance towards the window, obviously not thrilled about it. Considering how unenthused he is about NYU these days, it’s all too tempting to just blow it off and stay in.

But the last thing he needs is a drop in his grades. Not after the hell that was last semester -- and if he does want any chance of transferring, anywhere at all, he’ll want to keep his academic standing above water. So he shoulders his bag with a sigh and heads out.

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - DAY

When Nigel emerges from his bedroom, his family notices immediately. They notice, but no one says anything, not sure how to break the tension.

It’s evident this cold shoulder has been going on for a while. ERNESTO CHEY exchanges a look with LIEZEL CHEY, tacitly encouraging conversation, but she keeps her mouth shut. Even if she did want to speak, she surely wouldn’t know what to say. REYNA CHEY watches the silent movement from her usual armchair, more riveted by it than whatever pathetic soap is on TV.

Nigel pretends not to notice, for once not feeling like the one who needs to placate and keep the peace. He could walk right out the door like he has for weeks now, but Ernesto manages to get a word in before he can disappear.

Ernesto: Quite wet outside today. Bad weather. Nigel: … yeah. Liezel: Be careful getting to NYU. It will be slippery. I don’t want you to get sick.

Nigel chooses not to acknowledge his mother’s comment. The silence stings, but Liezel says nothing else, dipping her head down to her work at the kitchen counter.

Ernesto: Are you sure you want to walk? I could drop you off. Nigel: I have my coat.

He gestures to his windbreaker indicatively. Hard to argue with that. Ernesto reminds Nigel of when dinner is, and he claims he’ll try to be there, but as of the last few days there’s no guarantee that’ll be the case. For better or worse, Nigel is demonstrating he can be self-sufficient when he wants to be.

Even if no one else seems happy with it. Nigel opens the door, Liezel braving one more meek comment.

Liezel: Have a nice day.

Nigel doesn’t respond, shutting the door behind him before she can finish the sentiment. It obviously hurts, though Liezel does a decent job of stuffing it down. It seems Nigel got his knack for compartmentalizing from somewhere.

Reyna, on the other hand, is less than pleased to see it. She frowns to herself, shaking her head slightly as Ernesto and Liezel awkwardly return to their business.

EXT. JUPITER RECORDS - DAY

In natural contrast to the eastern downpour, the sunshine is still relentless over in Los Angeles. It glares brightly against the glassy exterior of the Jupiter Records building, reflecting in all directions.

INT. JUPITER RECORDS - MEETING ROOM - DAY

The mood is decidedly more jubilant here, too, as the EXECUTIVES excitedly inform the gathered young women that they are the official finalists for the coveted five spots in the label’s girl group project. After the retreat and weeks of debate, they’ve narrowed it down to less than ten finalists, six of whom are present in the room with them.

KIMMY PRICE, who looks just thrilled to be included; TABITHA FLORES, who is already impatient to prove herself and tapping her manicured fingers on the surface of the long meeting table they’re seated around. ALEENA SAYYID remains curious but calm, while MADYSIN MAY is busy sitting up on the table and lowkey flirting with the Jupiter representatives present. RONICA LEWIS watches the rest of them wild mild interest, keeping her game face on.

And YINDRA AMINO. She’s managed to squeak her way into final consideration, though what exactly made each of them pass the test remains a secret. So for now she’s trying to remain agreeable and somewhat aloof, holding her few cards close to the vest.

But even this close to success, the pressure doesn’t let up. Because now that they’re this close, the scrutiny becomes even more intense, as the process now requires extra assessment to develop the ultimate configuration of the girls they have left. This means more chemistry tests, more vocal mixes, and any number of personal questioning while they build out the perfect presentation of girl group excellence.

Just peachy. Yindra manages a smile and does her best to hide her nerves, nodding along as the executives lay out expectations for this final step.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

The Friar apartment has a strange new energy to it. Although it looks nearly the same, just with one less body sometimes occupying the space, something about it has irreversibly shifted. It feels simultaneously heavier yet lighter; shaded with tension yet unburdened with fresh relief. Like although weight still hangs heavy overhead, the space is no longer perpetually holding its breath.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - KITCHEN - DAY

The same seems to be the case for GRACE FRIAR. Although her features are etched with grief, and the bags under her eyes indicate more than a few restless nights in her recent history, there’s a serenity to her that wasn’t there before. She’s tired, but at ease, and she walks the floors of her apartment without dreading every creak under her step.

There’s miles to go before she sleeps, though. Kenneth’s passing may have happened in a moment, but the aftermath feels neverending. So much paperwork to handle, inquiries to follow through on. The man may be dead, but he was sure to leave things for her to clean up after him.

That, and the reminders never cease. She goes through the mail she just collected, looking for legal documents but finding more than a couple letters from well-wishers instead. Old friends from high school or Austin sending their condolences, mourning a great man and expressing their shared grief.

Folks who clearly kept up with Kenneth, but sure didn’t make an effort to stay connected with her.

More than that, they have questions. When will the funeral service be? Will there be one? If there’s financial straits preventing it, they’re happy to contribute. Kenneth was such a wonderful man, after all, it would be a damn shame for them not to have the chance to celebrate his life together. After three weeks, they just have to wonder… and if there will be one, they want to do everything in their power to clear their calendars to be there.

They’re not the only one with these questions. Grace herself has them -- one of the many things keeping her up at night -- but pulling something together has been harder than she anticipated. She knows she could find the help, of course…

But it’s not just about her. Grace places the mail on the kitchen counter and doubles back, heading across the living area to the other end of the apartment.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - LUCAS’S BEDROOM - DAY

As they attempt to downsize and sort through Kenneth’s belongings -- and he certainly had the most things to possess out of the three of them -- Lucas has taken on the task of going through the items stuffed into the closet in his already closet-sized bedroom.

But he’s not making very quick work of it. It’s more like pulling teeth, Lucas seated against the doorframe of the closet and mainly sitting in thoughtless silence. He’ll occasionally pull some random item out of the darkness, turn it over in his hands and try to find meaning in it, before ultimately chucking it into the cardboard box they’ve deemed trash or back into the depths when he can’t decide where it belongs. More often than not, he’s been aiming back into the closet.

Grace arrives in the doorway, gently knocking to get his attention. He stops staring into space and meets her eyes.

Grace: How is it going in here? Lucas: [ with a shrug ] Fine.

Given the trash box only has about one more item in it than the last time Grace checked on him, that’s likely. But she doesn’t point that out, treading cautiously towards what she actually wanted to discuss.

Grace: I’ve gotten more letters. From friends in Austin. They send their best. Lucas: Good for them. Grace: Many of them are asking about services. If we’ve got a date yet. [ a beat ] If we’ll have a date at all…

Lucas doesn’t have the answers, and it’s obvious from his expression that he doesn’t want any. He clenches his jaw and tilts his head back against the doorframe. Grace would like to do the same, but she pushes through and addresses it head on.

Grace: I think we need to decide if we’re going to do this. We can’t keep putting it off. Lucas: Okay? Sounds like you’ve decided then. Grace: I haven’t. I want us to be able to figure it out together. I know it’s -- it’s complicated. But people are asking, and three weeks is quite a long time after someone -- Lucas: Why the hell do I care what “people” think? It’s not their stupid family. [ tossing something into the trash box ] If they care so bad, why don’t they throw a party themselves?

Fair enough. But not helpful. Grace crosses her arms, trying not to bristle at his tone.

Grace: I get that this is weird. I know. You think I don’t know just as well as you do? [ touché ] But we need to act on it. We need to do something. Even if it’s just to get it out of the way, to allow everyone to move on. Including us.

Lucas’s jaw twitches, but he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t look at her either, but the lack of a pithy comment is better than usual lately.

Grace: We can’t just stay in this limbo forever. It doesn’t help anyone. Least of all you. So how about we just… do it. Go through the motions, get through it, and then we can put it to rest. For good. Lucas: [ under his breath ] What a perfectly normal way to talk about burying your husband…

Yes, but when has anything about this family ever been normal? Even so, Grace is clearly put off by the comment. She knows this is hard for him -- she has no doubt about it -- but he seems to forget she lived it all too. In fact, she lived much, much more of it than him.

She doesn’t say any of that, though. If he’s going to act like a kid about it, then she’ll do her best to buck up and act like the adult in the room.

Grace: I’m going to move forward with funeral preparations. Jack and Eric said they would help us with the logistics, so I’m reaching out tonight. [ a beat ] You can be involved, or not, that’s up to you. I get it either way. But I can’t do nothing anymore. Lucas: Okay. Whatever. [ deadpan ] You’re the parent.

Just in case she forgot. Since their situation has been so fucked up, and convoluted, and he basically raised himself. Since she’s never seemed very good at being one before, guess now is as fine a time as any.

It’s almost like he’s fourteen again. Like he has so much anger, so much pain, and he doesn’t know who actually deserves it, so Grace gets a heaping share. All the nuance of their world has died with Kenneth, and now it’s just the two of them left to sort through it and remember how to live with it all.

Grace is giving all the patience she has left towards him, but God, if it isn’t hard sometimes. She chooses to hold her tongue and steps away, leaving Lucas in the quiet once again.

He doesn’t seem thrilled with how that went either, but holding everything together is taking up enough of his mental power right now. He swallows the ache in his throat and sniffs, reaching for another pointless object in the darkness.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

Some of that darkness lingers with MAYA HART, who looks about as tired as Grace. She’s seated at the kitchen table but isn’t eating her breakfast, instead staring blankly out the balcony door towards the bright Los Angeles sun.

Her shine is dulled enough that Farkle notices, remarking on it when he exits his bedroom with his backpack and finds her at the table. He jokes about catching her in a rare pre-glam moment, which she just manages to remember to smile at.

Farkle: Honestly, I’m more impressed I managed to catch you at all. I feel like you and I have just been missing one another constantly since you got back from your retreat. Melissa and Justin must really be working you hard for the EP. Maya: Um, yeah. Yeah, it’s just been… super busy.

She’s a good enough actress that her delivery is just believable enough -- at least with someone as equally consumed with their own emotional baggage as Farkle. That’s what Maya wants to discuss anyway, using Isa as a convenient route to get the topic as far away from her and Global Beat as possible. Once they gloss over any updates from the Friar front…

Maya: Isa tell you all that? Farkle: No, Riley. Isa’s been… I’m sure they’re overwhelmed. And busy. Just with everything going on with Lucas. Maya: Right. They did leave in a pretty big hurry. [ a beat ] I couldn’t help but notice the couch was all clear when I came back though. That weekend. Farkle: Oh… yeah. Well. You know how I like to… keep things clean. And tidy. Maya: Mhm. It certainly didn’t look like anyone had slept there the night before, though. Let alone anyone six feet tall. Farkle: [ clearing his throat ] Yeah. Well. Isa said I should just share the bed with them. That it was stupid to be on the couch when we’ve been friends for -- you know, a long time. Maya: Right… Farkle: And it’s comfortable. Casual. We were just being, you know, cool about it. Maya: Of course. So must have been a good weekend, then? Farkle: Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’d say… yeah. Maya: Good vibes. Chill times. No big news to report. Farkle: Uh, nope. Yeah. Yeah… no, yeah. Maya: Right.

For such a good actor in his own right, Farkle really is terrible at being nonchalant. Maya can see right through him, and it’s the first time in days that she’s felt compelled to crack a smile. He meets her eyes, and she simply quirks an eyebrow knowingly.

That’s all it takes. Farkle caves, spilling into a hasty explanation about everything that happened with Isa. Partially just because he can’t seem to help himself, but also because it’s clear he has been dying to tell someone. With the way things ended so abruptly, with Isa having to rush off to help Lucas, it feels like he’s been living his life on pause for the last three weeks.

Maya listens attentively, with mild amusement, letting him stammer out all of the spinning thoughts in his frazzled head until he manages to wear himself out.

Maya: Wow. Farkle: So now it’s like -- I mean, I’m trying to be cool about it. And I am. This is a serious time, and I want to respect that and give them all the time they need. I get it. But I’m also like… I mean, what am I supposed to do with myself? We didn’t really get to talk about it, and like -- I had sex with them. One of my best friends. Maya: Ew. But yeah, crazy. Farkle: And I don’t want to like make a big deal out of it, or be insane, but how am I supposed to not be crazy about that? Am I insane for wanting like… I don’t know, a shred of insight as to what they’re thinking about the whole thing? [ hiding his head in his hands ] For the love of God, am I ever going to stop being a disaster? Maya: Sources say no. But that’s okay, that’s my favorite thing about you.

In any case, she understands why he feels so wound up. If something that big shifted between the two of them, it would make her anxious too. He’s valid, but she can only hope Isa will have the sense of mind to let him know what they’re feeling about it sooner rather than later.

On the other hand, she can’t help but find the whole thing just a little bit funny.

Maya: I’m just trying to figure out when exactly you became such a hot commodity. Like, Zay? Sure, he’s always been hot shit -- and wouldn’t let anyone forget it. But you, my darling, baby giraffe Farkle Minkus? When did you suddenly become such a whore?

Farkle groans, shoving Maya’s elbow and making her laugh. Although the comment is in jest, Farkle feels the need to defend himself.

Farkle: It’s not like that. This wasn’t just… I mean, yes, okay, hooking up with Charlie was one thing. Maya: Still insane, by the way. Farkle: But this isn’t the same. It’s Isa. It��s not… it’s always been different with Isa.

The sentiment is said so delicately for how it may as well be stating the obvious. But Maya doesn’t rib him for that. Instead, she softens, eyeing him with equally gentle fondness.

Maya: I know.

She may have been onto it even before either of them, in fact. She knows Farkle has long carried this torch -- and how fragile his heart has been as of late. As long as he’s closer to being happy, that’s all she really cares about.

For now, though, he has to go to class. When he asks if Maya will be heading back to the studio today, she freezes momentarily, before expertly deflecting. She claims she’s been doing some last-minute song-smithing here, and that her producers gave her the all-clear to hermit away until she’s got it polished how she likes. So if he sees her milling around the apartment more than usual, he shouldn’t think anything of it.

Never mind the real reason she can’t bear the thought of stepping foot back inside Global Beat. If Farkle never finds out -- if no one ever does -- then all the better.

INT. NYU - THEATER - DAY

A matinee production of Ghost is currently rolling, EVAN SCOTT and his co-star playing the Whoopi Goldberg role occupying the stage. The show must go on, and it certainly is, the world inside the theater walls proceeding as if nothing has changed.

Which explains why Riley is mentally anywhere but onstage. She’s waiting in the wings, due to reemerge under the lights in the next scene, but her focus is elsewhere. She’s pacing the darkness and engrossed by her phone, keeping up a text conversation with Lucas. He’s given her the update about Grace wanting to move forward with services, so there’s a lot to discuss and unpack.

Riley tries to type out a thoughtful reply, but Lucas beats her to her next message.

“Don’t worry about it. Probably easier to just talk in person”

Which is likely true, but also feels like a convenient way to nudge confronting the feelings as long as possible. Riley hastily deletes the paragraph she had typed before, instead agreeing and assuring him that she’ll be there as soon as this performance wraps up.

On stage, someone repeats their line more forcefully, but Riley still doesn’t notice. It’s not until a stagehand nudges her and informs her she’s missed her cue that she pulls it back together, quickly pocketing her phone. From her perch on a stool in the shadows, IMOGEN LEE snorts.

Imogen: Damn, Riley. If you’re basically out to lunch, I can take over. I have been studying my lines…

Riley so does not have the bandwidth to deal with petty understudies right now. She ignores Imogen and takes a deep breath, doing her best to shove the real world from her mind and get back into character.

As she steps out onto the stage --

INT. NYU - DRESSING ROOM - LATER - DAY

Riley finishes stuffing her bag in a hurry, still half in costume and make-up as she rushes to leave. The show has just barely wrapped up curtain call, but she doesn’t have time to waste.

INT. NYU - BACKSTAGE HALLWAY - DAY

As she steps out of the dressing room, she nearly runs into Evan, who catches her arms before she can topple over. Once he confirms she’s all right, he asks where she’s running off to.

Evan: Auditorium is this way. You know Hill is going to have notes. She -- Riley: She always does. Yeah. It’s not that I don’t want to hear them, I just… I really have somewhere else I need to be. [ checking her phone ] Did you feel like the orchestra was moving at the speed of sludge today? We’re like twenty minutes later than usual. Evan: Uh, no. I was more concerned with remembering the right notes.

He says it playfully, but there is a slight edge to his tone. Imogen isn’t the only one who’s noticed Riley seems less than focused -- and now it’s starting to affect the production.

Still, Evan approaches it more tactfully than their peer. He lowers his voice to give them more privacy, waiting until a couple of their castmates pass by and disappear through the stage doors to speak.

Evan: You missed your cue. Before intermission. Riley: Yeah. Yeah, I know, sorry. Evan: All good. It’s just a college musical. I just wanted to check… like, is everything okay? You haven’t seemed quite like yourself.

No, Evan. No it’s not. She doesn’t have time to be there for her friends who are facing some of the biggest auditions of their lives, nor have basically any involvement in her roommate adjusting to letting their father into their world. She can’t be there for her friend who just ended a toxic relationship, or help her candidate jump into his hard-won new role.

There’s just been a major death in her may-as-well-be family that has shattered all sense of normalcy, and she doesn’t have nearly enough time to help pick up the pieces. There’s just not enough her to go around.

But none of that is his business, so she shrugs.

Riley: Yes. Yeah, it’s just…

She really doesn’t have the words to express it. After another wordless head shake, she settles for little.

Riley: I’ve got a lot on my mind.

Clearly, if she’s forgetting when she’s supposed to enter stage right. Before Evan can respond, she’s distracted again by her phone, buzzing with another text from Lucas.

“Don’t bother. Don’t want to burn you out between shows. It’s all pointless anyway”

The frown on her face signals this isn’t the kind of reply she wants from him. Evan eyes her curiously, but wisely decides not to dig deeper right now. He opts to stick with the things he can address.

Evan: Well, whatever you’ve got going on, don’t be any later. I can take any notes Hill has for you -- aside from the imminent comment about your late entrance. Riley: Of course. That would be great, Evan, thank you. I owe you big time.

He nods, offering a smile and leaving her be. He glances back at her over his shoulder as he steps back into the auditorium, watching her become absorbed in her phone yet again.

Another text from Lucas.

“Just go home. Talk later”

Her boyfriend is going through what may very well be the biggest emotional clusterfuck of his life, and she can’t be there for him. Not the way she wants to be. The longer she’s gone, the easier it is for him to do this. To pull away; to recede into himself and bottle it all up. To be crushed under it, when this is precisely the moment he has to power through. She hates that she can’t be there, when all she wants to do is be there by his side to endure it together.

There’s not enough time -- and she dreads the possibility that she might just lose him too.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Have Nothing” as performed by Whitney Houston || Performed by Riley Matthews

Although she’s been killing it on the stage, nothing beats a Riley performance that’s coming authentically from the soul. As she walks the backstage halls of the theater, singing her solo soliloquy, it feels more captivating than any professional staging or bright stage lights could fabricate.

That always goes doubly when she’s singing about Lucas. The lyrics are more than fitting. In the same vein as “On My Own,” “My Man,” and “Better,” no kind of performance demonstrates more of Riley’s range than the ones straight from her heart -- and at this point, the two are one in the same.

Lucas is her heart. And if he’s breaking, she’s broken too.

Don't walk away from me I have nothing, nothing, nothing If I don't have you

Once Riley reaches the end of the hallway, back in front of the stage doors, the camera pans away and makes her feel smaller and further away. Before the key change can hit around 3:05, her vocals start to distort, sounding far away and bleeding into Whitney Houston’s original track --

EXT. RURAL COUNTRY ROAD - FLASHBACK - DAY

Which becomes diegetic, playing through the chunky over-the-ear headphones of Grace’s portable CD player. She’s on her walk home from the bus stop, her family farm a good mile out from where the closest public school bus drops off.

Grace doesn’t seem bothered by the walk. It’s one of her favorite times of the day, actually, time to be alone with nature and get lost in her thoughts. With a well-worn pair of cowboy boots and the autumn breeze, there’s no better chance to find a second to breathe.

Only today, it seems, she’s not alone. She frowns slightly when the song starts to end and she hears gravel crunching behind her -- someone driving along the dirt road. It doesn’t get much use on a typical afternoon. She glances over her shoulder.

An older but very cool blue Ford pick-up is ambling down the street. She expects it to pass on by -- maybe doing business with the Carmichaels down the hill -- but it slows as it approaches her. For a moment, she tenses, not sure whether she should be wary…

Until she recognizes the face behind the wheel. Beautiful eyes, and that smile that could start wars.

Kenneth. He pulls up beside her and rolls down the passenger side window, offering her one of those coveted smiles. She removes her headphones, looping them around her neck.

Kenneth: Howdy. Fancy meeting you here. Grace: I live here. Kenneth: In the middle of the road?

Grace blushes, already flustered just from his attention. They’ve been chatting a bit for weeks now, definitely flirting here and there, yet he doesn’t seem to lose any effect on her. It’s almost annoying. She pushes some hair behind her ear.

Grace: You know what I meant. Kenneth: Sure did. That’s why when my parents surprised me with this baby this afternoon, and I got to take it for my first drive, I thought hey -- what better place to cruise for a while?

So he came right to see her. Grace doesn’t know what to do with that information, so she breezes past it.

Grace: It’s nice. I like the color. Kenneth: I know. You love blue.

Yeah… she does. After a beat, Kenneth runs a hand through his hair.

Kenneth: Can I give you a ride? Grace: I’m used to the walk. It’s okay. Kenneth: I ain’t asking if you can handle it. Knowing you, I’m sure you can. I’m asking if you want a ride.

Well. That is different, isn’t it. Does she hold out her resilience, stay sane and keep walking the path of safe, familiar independence… or does she get in the car with him?

Somehow, the choice is easy. Grace takes a deep breath and steps off the grass, approaching the car. Kenneth’s expression is utterly delighted as he leans across the console to unlock the passenger door.

She climbs up into the seat and exchanges a shy smile with him.

EXT. KINSLEY FAMILY FARM - FLASHBACK - DAY

Kenneth pulls up outside Grace’s home, putting the truck in park. Directly in front of them is the farmhouse, a modest but charming dwelling surrounded by acres of green. Several dozen feet away, the red wood of a barn is visible, and adjacent another dozen feet, a roomy stable with a fenced-in riding pasture.

INT. KENNETH’S TRUCK - FLASHBACK - DAY

Although there’s nothing holding her back, Grace doesn’t immediately get out of the car. There’s something nice, and a bit enthralling, about sitting in his passenger seat.

Grace: Thanks for the ride. Kenneth: ‘Course. Any time. Grace: Don’t make promises like that. You’re gonna end up a chauffeur before you know it. Kenneth: Hey, if it means getting to spend a little more time with you, then I’m game.

The compliment comes out effortlessly smooth. So damn charming… Grace can feel the blush crawling up her cheeks.

She flushes even further when Kenneth takes a long moment to take her in, gazing at her with a soft shade to his features. After a moment, he starts to lean closer…

As per usual, Grace panics and deflects. She interrupts his move with conversation, letting words spill out of her without thinking.

Grace: What are you up to for the rest of the afternoon?

Kenneth hesitates. The slightest edge of frustration creeps into his features, but it ebbs away quickly and is replaced with amused fondness. There is something about this little cat-and-mouse game they have going on that is all the more enjoyable. It’s like the more she plays hard to get, just dancing outside the perimeter of his obvious interest, the more appealing she becomes -- whether Grace is doing it intentionally or not.

Kenneth: Probably practice. Some weight-training -- coach says I need to gain another five-to-ten to maximize my impact on the field. Grace: [ sure, she totally gets what that means ] Uh-huh. Kenneth: So the usual. Football, avoiding homework, ignoring my dad when he tries to grill me about football and/or homework. How about you? Grace: Um… homework. [ off his laugh ] Then maybe some writing, if I have time. Kenneth: What kind of writing? Grace: Just… personal stuff. Silly stuff. Nothing important. Kenneth: You like, an author or something? I didn’t know you were into all that. [ off her shrug ] So when do I get to read your stuff? Grace: Yeah, uh, try never. Kenneth: Oh, come on! Don’t tease me like that --

He reaches out and playfully tugs at her braid, which she giggles at before swatting his hands away. Their hands brush and linger for a moment longer than necessary, before Grace pulls hers back and twiddles with the end of her plait.

Kenneth slouches back in his seat, whistling and shaking his head as he gets another good look at her.

Kenneth: Dang. A bona fide writer. I mean, I knew you were smart and everything, and you’ve got those killer grades in English. But… Grace Kinsley, you truly are something else.

No one has ever said anything like that to her before. No one has ever looked at her like that, the way he is right now. Like she’s actually there rather than invisible -- like there’s something worth seeing.

It’s thrilling, but also terrifying, so Grace feels the sudden instinct to bolt. She offers another shy smile and starts to gather her bag.

Grace: First things first, I have to feed the horses, so. Best get going.

EXT. KINSLEY FAMILY FARM - FLASHBACK - DAY

Grace hops out of the car, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Kenneth looks disappointed to see her go -- and a bit disappointed that his excuse to prolong heading home has run out.

Kenneth: Writer girl, horse girl -- is there anything you don’t do, Kinsley? Grace: Football.

Kenneth barks out a laugh, which earns another smile from her. Kenneth thinks on that, a moment of vulnerability breaking through.

Kenneth: As someone who does, gotta admit, think right now I’d rather be feeding the horses.

The comment surprises Grace. Given how good he is at the game, how much of a king he seems like on the field, she assumed football was naturally his whole world. She never would’ve guessed there was even a hint of conflict hidden beneath that strong veneer.

Somehow, the moment makes her feel the desire to open up too.

Grace: Do you want to see them?

The invitation slips out before she can question it. Kenneth contemplates… then grins.

INT. KINSLEY FAMILY FARM - STABLES - FLASHBACK - DAY

Grace pulls open the door to the stables and enters first, signaling for Kenneth to move quietly. Since he’s new, his presence might unsettle the horses. He playfully mimics her gesture, pretending to zip his lips.

Tellingly, the horses do react to the unfamiliar face. They grow skittish, whinnying in apprehension. Grace shushes them and talks softly as she makes her way further inside, Kenneth hanging back a bit to watch. Although it’s a marvel to see how natural she is with the creatures, he seems a little perturbed by their reaction to him.

Kenneth: Don’t think they like me. Grace: They don’t know you. Like I said, they’re shy around strangers. Kenneth: Fitting. Sounds like someone else I know.

Grace rolls her eyes, petting the nose of one of the ponies rather than responding.

Kenneth: Guess they should work on their socializing skills. How many other people have you brought in to meet them? How’d they fare?

This time, Grace is silent for other reasons. Her expression grows more guarded, and slightly embarrassed. The lack of an answer speaks volumes, though, Kenneth putting it together fast enough.

No one. Grace hasn’t brought anyone else in here.

This is her safe space, a sacred shelter, and somehow he’s managed to find his way inside.

Cautiously, he saunters over to join her by the horses and does his absolute best to be unassuming. Considering he’s a hulking football player with no sense of subtle, it doesn’t work, the horse Grace is currently petting skittering away a bit as he approaches.

Kenneth: Sorry. I’m more trouble than I’m worth. Grace: Don’t say that. Kenneth: Think they’ll ever like me? [ looking at her ] Do I have any chance?

The question feels loaded. Grace meets his eyes.

Grace: You have to earn their trust.

She’ll do her best to help him, if she can. Utilizing her own goodwill with the horse, she lures it forward again, back up to the edge of the pen. She soothingly rubs its nose and then dips her forehead against the flat of its muzzle, Kenneth watching in bewildered fascination.

Once it seems calm enough, she glances his way… then takes his hand, gently guiding it up to brush the horse’s nose.

Cute a moment as that might have been, it doesn’t quite land. Because nope, this dude has not earned its trust, and it’s not playing the same games Grace may be. The horse brays and shuffles backwards again, out from under their hands.

Kenneth: Damn it. Grace: [ with a laugh ] Don’t worry. Just give it time. Kenneth: … so does that mean I’m welcome back here again?

It sure does seem to imply… Grace realizes that, pausing and glancing at their hands. They’ve come to rest on the edge of the gate, hers still laid on top of his tan fingers.

Kenneth doesn’t seem at all opposed to that. In fact, he starts to flip his hand to link their fingers together, but Grace slips away, retreating further into the stables to distract herself with the horse feed.

As much of a tease as she seems intent on being, Kenneth manages to take it well. He swallows his impatience and follows her over to the oat barrels, taking a good look around. An item hanging on the wall above her catches his eye.

Kenneth: What’s that?

Grace follows his gaze, landing on the same sight. It’s a decorative horse shoe, slightly larger-than-scale and made of shimmering blue glass.

Grace: Nothing. Just some art. Kenneth: Well, I don’t believe that. Wouldn’t be hanging in such a high place of honor if it wasn’t special. Grace: It’s in a stable. Kenneth: Which is a place of honor to you. Ain’t that right?

Touché. Grace doesn’t deny that, keeping her eyes on the oat scoop.

Grace: My mama got it for me when I was little. From a local artist in North Carolina, when my parents went. I couldn’t go, stayed with my grandparents, but she knew I was sad about it. I wanted to see the wild horses. So she brought me back the next best thing.

Learning a lot about each other today. Kenneth continues to look at it, absorbing how much it means to her… then lets his gaze drift back to her.

Kenneth: So you were always big on ponies? Or did she just take a lucky guess that you’d be obsessed -- Grace: How did you know my favorite color is blue?

The question slips out unprompted, confusing Kenneth. He raises his eyebrows when she turns to face him, her expression guarded… but delicate too.

Kenneth: What do you mean? Grace: When I saw your truck. I said “I like the color,” and you said you know. That I love blue. Kenneth: … yeah? Is that wrong? Grace: No. It’s right. It’s exactly right. How did you know that? Kenneth, amused: Is that a real question? You told me, Grace.

Once, in some inane conversation in the last few weeks, she must’ve mentioned it. Offhanded, to fill the space, not thinking anything of it herself.

But he heard her. He listened.

Grace: Oh. I don’t remember that. Kenneth: Well, I do. [ a beat ] I remember everything you say.

Oh. Grace’s stomach flips, and that flush returns to her cheeks. She doesn’t turn away from him, but her gaze dips to the floor, not sure if she’s ready to be so seen.

But Kenneth is ready. He’s been ready. He steps closer.

Kenneth: I like listening to you. Grace: I don’t know why. I’m not good at it. Talking. Kenneth: I think you’re dang good at just about everything. Grace: I’m not. I don’t… talk, and I don’t… let people in here -- Kenneth: And yet, here we are. Grace: I don’t let people in. You hang around long enough, you’re gonna figure out why. I’m nothing special. I’m -- I’m just -- Kenneth: Grace.

He’s made it in front of her now, closing the distance between them. Grace has backed up against the feed station, nowhere else to run and hide. Nearby, the horses whinny uncertainly.

With a tender touch, Kenneth reaches and tilts Grace’s chin upward, guiding her into meeting his eyes again. Not allowing her to shy away. This time, she doesn’t pull away.

The space between them grows thinner… Grace has the sense she should slip away, the relentless instinct for self-preservation, but it’s suddenly hazier in the magnetic storm of his grip. They inch closer… and closer… their lips almost brush…

Kenneth: [ in a murmur ] Do I have any chance?

In an instant, Kenneth gets his answer. Because despite his eagerness, Grace caves first, leaning into their first kiss. The first one is slow, testing the waters, and they break for a quiet moment to catch their breath when they pull apart.

Then, it’s game over. Kenneth cups Grace’s face and pulls her into another kiss, this one more urgent than the first. And by some grace of God, or maybe the Devil, Grace loses all her reservations in the thrill of his embrace. She matches his fervor and kisses him back, grabbing his flannel and pulling him close.

We pan up and away, lingering on the decorative horseshoe…

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Out of the fog of the nineties and back in the present, Charlie is back at Chubbies. He has his travel journal open and colored tabs ready to organize, but that seems to be as far as he’s gotten. He’s distracted this afternoon, lost in his own head as he stares blankly out the window and watches people pass on the sidewalk without really seeing them.

He certainly doesn’t see ZAY BABINEAUX, who enters the diner from the other side of the street. Unlike Charlie, he’s energetic and alert, and he only brightens further when he spots the all too familiar back of Charlie’s head.

But he has to tread cautiously -- it’s been a minute since his little revelation during his audition, but the feelings haven’t changed. So he may not be able to pull off nonchalant as expertly as before. He needs to act strategically to avoid embarrassing himself.

So Zay does what he does best. He goes for a tease. He quietly approaches from behind and then strikes by surprise, reaching over the back of the adjacent booth to tap Charlie on his far shoulder. He jumps in response, naturally looking over his shoulder until he realizes that’s silly a second later, since he’s just looking at the window -- and whips his head back around just in time to find Zay standing at his table with a cheeky smile on his face.

Charlie: Jeez. Zay: Hi. You’re twitchy today. Charlie: You scared me. Zay: Since day one. It’s basically my job.

Charlie resists the urge to roll his eyes. Zay plops into the booth opposite him, asking how things are going. What’s he working on? Before Zay can get too close a look, Charlie swiftly closes the journal and subtly pulls it closer to himself.

Charlie: Nothing much. Just killing time until those college acceptances come through. Zay: Seriously? Charlie: Were you expecting something else? Remember who you’re talking to here. Zay: Wah, wah. But no, not particularly. I just feel like -- I don’t know, I assumed you were booked up. I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks.

Yeah… that would be the lowkey mood-swing-depression hibernation… classic ostracized-by-Eleanor coping mechanism. Charlie avoids getting into it, though, clearing his throat and shrugging.

Charlie: No, yeah, I’ve just… um, been busy.

Response of the month, apparently. Zay can tell he’s being vague, but he decides to let it go for now, because being near him again already feels volatile and pushing any buttons when he’s so internally unsteady feels like risky business.

And he already has a big ask on his mind. Speaking of colleges and acceptances…

Zay: So. Turner. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it. Charlie: Oh, shoot, yeah. Sorry, I totally meant to follow up -- Zay: Why are you apologizing? Don’t apologize to me. Charlie: Okay, right. Sorry. I mean --

Charlie winces at himself, earning a laugh from Zay. He takes a second to compose himself, skipping the compulsive apologies, then starts again.

Charlie: I meant to check in earlier. Zay: Before you evaporated? Charlie: Sure. So, what? Did you hear anything? I feel like if you had, you would’ve said something. Zay: Correct. Believe me, if they’d told me anything worthwhile, you’d be the first to know. [ shaking his head ] No, they’re saving that big reveal for later. But they’re doing a post-audition semi-formal gala of sorts this week to celebrate everyone’s hard work, and for getting this far, blah blah blah. Charlie: Wow. That’s nice? Zay: Yeah, in theory. Only they’re also announcing the three finalists for the two spots at this thing, rather than sparing us all the tragedy or just saying which two got picked upfront. Charlie: Wow. That’s… a lot. Zay: No fucking kidding. Blood might be spilled, Carrie style. Not to mention it’s such a dramatic as fuck way to do this whole thing, but I guess that’s kind of par for the course in the business. The other part is that we all get to do some sort of solo presentation, like a little talent show, to make us all feel good and special before they harpoon most of our high hopes.

It’ll be interesting, at least, there’s no doubt about that. Based on his expression, Charlie seems grateful he’s not trying to exist in this industry more and more every day.

Zay: Anyway, the circus allows each of us to invite a plus-one, and I was thinking you could come with me. [ a beat ] You know, as a thank-you for showing up in the first place.

It takes Charlie a minute to process the request, and once he does, he isn’t quite sure he can believe it.

Charlie: Oh. Zay: I know I didn’t exactly sell it that well, but I swear it’ll be fun. Probably. Maybe. At least entertaining. And not stressful for you, considering you don’t have any stakes in the whole thing. Charlie: Well, aside from you… Zay: Aside from me. But personally. All the more reason to have you there -- I’m going to need all the luck I can get. Charlie: No, right, ha ha. For sure. I just, um…

Charlie subconsciously grips the edge of his journal, hugging it a bit closer to him.

Charlie: Is Vanessa gonna be cool with that? Or are you all not allowed to like, be each other’s plus-ones? Zay: Oh. No. No, uh… don’t think she’d like that very much anyway.

That’s foreboding. Charlie frowns, confused, opening the door for Zay to truly catch him off-guard. Forgot to mention this little detail…

Zay: We ended things. A bit ago.

Charlie stops breathing. For how sharply those words just sent electricity through his veins, though, he does a remarkable job of keeping it together.

Charlie: Oh. Shoot. [ frown deepening ] I’m sorry. Zay: [ waving him off ] It’s… you know. Whatever. I mean, honestly, it’s fine. For the best. Like, we liked each other, but with the competition and everything…

Not to mention the whole still-in-love-with-your-ex thing. But details, details. Regardless, the point is that there’s certainly no issue here. There’s no barriers to entry, and no reason not to follow his gut and invite him along.

That is, except for Charlie himself. If he doesn’t want to go, no harm, no foul.

Zay: Like I said, I totally get if it sounds like a lot. You were just my first thought.

If Zay says one more nice thing so easily like that, he’s going to knock him out. But Charlie manages to keep his cool, contemplating for a moment before shrugging.

Charlie: Why not? I’d be happy to come. Thanks for inviting me.

Zay grins, relieved. Charlie aims to shake off the strange tension that seems to have resurfaced between them, taking a shot at his expense.

Charlie: Besides, it’s probably wise for me to tag along. If this really is going to become a bloodbath, you’ll need someone to cover you -- or pull you out of there before you commit murder.

He kids, but he hasn’t met the Turner cohort yet. Zay makes a face.

Now that he’s gotten through his high-stakes request -- and got the answer he hoped for -- Zay’s brain is working enough again to think about anything else.

Zay: Speaking of shit we meant to ask about, how did that thing from the other night go? When you left the audition? I know you were pretty serious about it.

God, Zay, you have no idea… and he still won’t, as Charlie side-steps the question once the initial rush of dread wears off.

Charlie: Oh, yeah. Yeah, it went… great. All good.

Zay smiles, and Charlie just manages to mirror it.

INT. JUPITER RECORDS - OFFICE - DAY

To round out the afternoon, Yindra finds herself specifically called into the office of one of the main label representatives putting the girl group together. The LABEL REP greets her cheerfully and invites her to sit wherever she’s comfortable.

Label Rep: We’re just waiting for one more.

That has Yindra more uncertain than before. She figured being singled out was either very good news or very bad news, given they’re running at six right now, but if she’s not the only one then she isn’t sure what to think.

Even more so once Aleena appears in the doorway, receiving the same warm greeting.

She and Yindra eye each other curiously for a second, both trying to suss out what could have possibly brought them both here. They’re not similar voice parts. They don’t have the same core skills. Aleena is far from Yindra’s most direct competition, far as she could surmise.

Even so, there they both are. Aleena offers a tight smile and takes the seat next to Yindra, both of them turning their attention to the label rep.

Label Rep: First, I just wanted to offer my most sincere congratulations. It’s quite the feat that you both made it this far in the process, and I hope you’re very proud of yourselves.

Yindra senses hedging, but Aleena beats her to a pithy comment.

Aleena: I’m saving the pride for if I actually make it, personally.

So they can skip all the niceties. What is this really about? The rep gets that signal, clearing their throat and getting to the point.

Label Rep: It’s no joke about how talented both of you are. Between us, you two are certainly some of the strongest contenders in this crop, and I’m not just saying that. There’s so much going for each of you, so in that regard, keep doing what you’re doing. Yindra: But…? If we’re here discussing it, surely there’s a but.

Indeed. The label rep goes on to explain that as they well know after the retreat experience, the label is taking everything into consideration when crafting the ultimate girl group to resuscitate the genre. That goes for skill, but marketability as well. Looks are one factor, of course, which neither girl should be worried about -- they’re both gorgeous. However…

Label Rep: The general public is a fickle beast, particularly the American subset. Did you know consumers will become averse to a product they traditionally love just because the packaging suddenly changed colors? Or because the text of the brand name is just slightly too big?

Point is, the smallest details really do matter. That goes doubly for the industry, where being an entertainer basically invites scrutiny to an abnormal degree. This is something the label is keenly aware of, and trying to anticipate every angle as they put together the perfect combination of women. For the two of them…

Label Rep: The concern has been raised that your names may be… too similar.

Yindra frowns, confused. Aleena looks less caught off-guard, but just as perturbed.

Yindra: I’m sorry? I don’t understand. Label Rep: With a girl group -- or any group, for that matter -- you want each member to be distinct. To bring their own unique personality and flavor to the table, that dissuades any sense of interchangeability. You want there to be the feeling that this combination of girls is it, the absolute pinnacle of personas coming together for a master class in performance. Aleena: Right. Sure. Yindra: But I don’t see how that applies? Our names aren’t similar. I mean, I guess they both end in “A.” Aleena: So does Tabitha. Label Rep: Yes, well -- Aleena: And Ronica. Yindra: Wow, maybe there are a lot of “ah” ending names -- Label Rep: That’s not the concern. But the reasoning is beside the point.

Regardless of why, they’ve honed in on these two as a potential issue, and they want to be ahead of the curve by proactively finding a solution. Thus, why they’ve summoned them there today.

Label Rep: We’re hoping that one of you -- or both, if you so choose -- would be willing to take on a nickname. While a member of the group.

Something more distinct, and ideally poppy. A pseudonym that’ll ring fresh with the rest and help create the perfect symphony of names that just flies off the tongue.

Although she can’t put her finger on why, the suggestion makes Yindra uncomfortable. Despite how cheerfully the rep is pitching it, something just doesn’t feel right. Aleena seems equally resistant.

Aleena: So you want us to play a part. Label Rep: No. No, not at all -- Aleena: You’re asking us to take on a different name. Isn’t that inherently being someone else? Label Rep: Absolutely nothing about either of you needs to change. You have great assets all around, and we want to highlight that. It’s just about… finding the right label. Spicing up the packaging. That’s all. We want to give you the best chance for success.

Only a name isn’t just a label -- it’s an identity. It’s Yindra’s identity, and she isn’t sure she wants to get her start being known by something else entirely.

Label Rep: Some of the greatest artists out there today have stage names, after all. Like Lorde! Or… or, um… Yindra: Lady Gaga. Aleena: Cardi B. Yindra: Halsey. Aleena: Lana Del Rey. Label Rep: Yes! Yes, all of the above. You totally get what I’m saying.

Except she couldn’t be bothered to do her own research first… well, suppose that’s the joy of having the grunt work in a project like this. It’s certainly not one of the label executives sitting down with them to have this conversation.

Aleena: So how is this being decided, exactly? Label Rep: Well, that’s the best part. We know you all are working on building collaboration, and we want to foster that one-hundred percent. So we’re putting the choice in your hands! The two of you can work it out amongst yourselves who would like the fun little name remix.

Oh, even better! They not only want one of them to drop their identity, they’re going to make them battle it out to pick who. Less blood on their hands. Aleena and Yindra exchange an awkward side-eye.

Label Rep: To help you decide, the label is going to send you a list in the next couple of days with some of the new names they’ve been workshopping for you. So you’ll have a much better sense of what this new pop persona might sound like before you have to pull the trigger.

With that, she’ll let them go, but they’d love it if they could hear back before the end of the week.

INT. JUPITER RECORDS - HALLWAY - DAY

As they exit, Yindra tries to make conversation, mostly to cover her own discomfort.

Yindra: That was weird, right? Kind of dumb to make us have to work out their aesthetic preferences, but -- Aleena, flatly: It’s not about aesthetics.

Yindra pauses, uncertain. Aleena stops walking and sighs, deciding to just give it to her straight.

Aleena: It’s not that our names are similar. You said it yourself, they’re not. They’re basically at opposite ends of the alphabet. Yindra: Yeah. Which is why it’s dumb that -- Aleena: It’s not that they’re alike. It’s that they’re not white enough.

Yindra’s stomach drops. That must have been where the itching sense of distaste came from. It wasn’t said out loud, not by the label, but…

Aleena: Look, I’ve been in this business a couple years now, and they all play the same games. [ with an eye roll ] They want diversity points, and lucky them based on the girls we’ve got left, they’ll get them. That’s not a bad thing. But… God forbid it sounds too much like it.

If prime marketability is what they’re after… well, something’s gotta give. Apparently. Whether that’ll be Yindra or Aleena, though…

For now, remains to be seen. Aleena claims she’ll hit her up later, once they’ve both had time to think through this bullshit.

Aleena: That is, if this doesn’t make you wanna run for the hills. Wouldn’t blame you.

Or is she just saying that, so she’ll get out of her way? Hard to say.

Yindra doesn’t respond, left standing in the hallway and suddenly feeling more alone than ever.

INT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

Riley steps into a similarly lonely entryway, though the promise of company is just around the corner where the light is shining. It’s strange to walk this apartment without feeling like you’re treading on eggshells, but that’s exactly what she does, heading into the living area.

Grace spots her first, currently sitting on the couch going through boxes from the bedroom. She stands when she sees she’s there, more than a little surprised.

Grace: Hi. I didn’t realize you were stopping by. Riley: Yeah. I hope that’s okay. [ holding up a takeout bag ] I figured with everything you guys are working on, you probably aren’t super focused on meal prep. This place is on the way from NYU, so thought I’d grab something. Keep everyone fed. Grace: That’s sweet. Thank you. But I hope you’re not taking too much time. Shouldn’t you be at the show -- Lucas: Riley?

Both women pause, turning to look at Lucas standing in his doorway. He heard her voice and couldn’t be sure he wasn’t going crazy -- although despite his request that she skip coming by, he doesn’t seem upset to see her there.

Lucas: I thought you weren’t coming.

Riley can answer both questions in one. She smiles at Grace, then holds Lucas’s gaze, resolute.

Riley: I’m between shows. I’ve got time.

To her, being there for him is never going to be a burden.

That little detail cleared up, she passes off the food to Grace, encouraging them to dig in whenever they’re hungry. She’ll grab some before she heads back for the evening show, but in the meantime, what can she help with? She’s eager to contribute however she can.

Now that she’s there, Lucas isn’t going to fight her on it. He gestures for her to join him and she happily obliges, the two of them quietly discussing whatever minimal sorting Lucas has managed to accomplish.

Grace dutifully takes the food into the kitchen before returning to her own task, pausing for a moment to listen to Lucas and Riley chat in the other room. It’s reassuring, honestly, to hear how different his tone is with her. Far less unpredictable, and less abrasive, than she’s been navigating the past couple of weeks.

It makes her smile, even just a bit… and in some ways, it takes her back. She settles back onto the couch and goes back to sorting through one of the smaller boxes she pulled from their bedroom closet, a mish-mash of mementos and photographs.

As she lingers on one of her and Kenneth from high school…

EXT. AUSTIN SUBURBS - MONTAGE - FLASHBACK - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Alright” as performed by Supergrass || Instrumental

We’re thrown back into the rose-tinted world of the late nineties, fully submerged in the whirlwind of Kenneth and Grace’s young romance. It’s reminiscent of The Notebook, full of whimsy and charm. They walk the halls of school together, Kenneth insistent on showing off his new girl despite her shyness and less-than-popular everygirl status. She attends more games to cheer him on, a joy to both Kenneth on the field and Rachel cheering on the sidelines.

He indulges her hobbies too, though, infiltrating more time in Grace’s sacred space as she cares for the horses on their farm. He listens attentively enough while she bores him with details about them, and the two get playful as she teaches him how to harness and ride one. He also makes a habit of bothering her while she’s trying to do homework, or write in her journals -- he even snatches it from her at one point and starts to flip through it, which she only manages to get back once she’s playfully wrestled him for it and he’s stolen a kiss instead.

Of course, they do that too. Kiss. More and more frequently, the longer they spend together. At school, on the sidelines during games when they’re between plays, after Kenneth takes her home. Deeper and longer kisses in his bedroom, or hers, or in the barn when he’s managed to distract her from the horses. In one shot, he nudges her back against the wall and kisses her hard, Grace’s decorative horseshoe wobbling dangerously on its hook.

Though Grace remains more hesitant than him, and more likely to turn her cheek or shy away from his affection with a bashful grin, Kenneth isn’t deterred. He seems to take it in stride -- more of that hard-to-get game he felt she’s been playing with him since they first met. If he is frustrated, he’s doing a good job of hiding it, and she usually makes up for it with another adorable quirk or embrace a moment later.

It almost feels like a dream. The whole sequence of little moments and memories is so disarming and endearing, it’s almost possible to forget who we’re looking at and what they become. Some things are less clear in hindsight…

In fact, watching the two of them here, they could pass for any of our favorite AMBITION duos. Cute, carefree, full of natural chemistry and the undeniable desire to be near each other.

Feel alright…

EXT. THE HIGH LINE - DAY

Nigel and Zay are on the High Line, taking the chance to share a walking lunch in an otherwise hectic week. They both commiserate about the fact that they’re glad they’re not the ones dealing with funerals and all that, let alone this week.

Zay: I’ve got enough on my mind with this whole transfer gala thing. I told Riley if she needed anything, she can totally hit me up, but… suffice to say, Friar always reminds me that I am extremely lucky to have the family I do. [ elbowing him ] We lucked out in one way at least, huh? Nigel: Oh, yeah… for sure.

The agreement is hollow, but not enough for Zay to notice. He can sense that Nigel isn’t quite zoned in, though, so he tries to gear the conversation towards him. How is this semester going? Any better than last -- he hopes?

Zay: Surely NYU is realizing what they’ve got with you in their ranks, or I don’t know, man. If they don’t choose you, they oughta lose you.

He says it jokingly, but he has no idea exactly how spot on he is. Truly no clue, because of all people, Nigel hasn’t told him one word of his UK ambitions. Not that he couldn’t, in fact, he knows Zay would empower him without hesitation. He’s all about bold moves and asserting your worth.

Yet, even now, Nigel demurs. He opts not to say anything, because when he looks at Zay, all he hears is a relentless echo in his brain.

You are not Zay Babineaux!

He loves Zay, but he can’t understand this. They’ve never been the same.

So Nigel shrugs, redirecting the conversation back to Zay’s big events this week.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - MAYA’S BEDROOM - DAY

Despite how casually she played things off with Farkle, Maya is far from the pinnacle of productivity these days. She mainly spends her time holed up in her room, pretending to be songwriting but not actually getting anything done. If you asked her, she probably wouldn’t be able to tell you how she spends most of her days. It all feels like a big blur.

Until lighting strikes and brings everything into sharp, stinging focus. Maya sits up from her blanket cocoon when her phone vibrates with a text. She’s already preparing what she’ll say to Farkle to deflect, or assure him she’s busy, but it’s not from him.

It’s Justin.

“Hey hey heyyy, hope everything is good with you! wondering when ur thinking about getting back into the studio? we’ve got hit songs to create for your big EP debut haha”

It’s so casual it’s actually disturbing. As if nothing happened, as if everything between them is exactly how it was before the retreat. It’s so easy for him to brush it off and forget -- no big deal, no consequences.

It’s not that easy for Maya. She’s been doing everything in her power to forget about it, about him, for weeks. But it’s a losing battle, considering he and Melissa were becoming her whole world. Seeing it thrown back in her face is so unsettling, it makes her sick.

Literally. Suddenly sure she’s going to vomit, Maya pushes the blankets off of her in a frantic rush and races for her bathroom.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - BATHROOM - DAY

She collapses on the tiled floor in front of the toilet, dry heaving and hands shaking. Thankfully, nothing comes out, but that’s mostly because she hasn’t been eating too well lately either. Once the intense bout of nausea subsides, she groans and falls back against the side of the bathtub.

Maya has never felt this way before. So unsteady, affected by the smallest shift in the wind. So… weak.

She hates it. She hates it, and there’s nothing she can do about it. The damage has already been done.

But at the very least, she can protect herself from attacks like this. With vitriol, she reaches for her phone and opens the text thread with Justin, then slams the block button.

Brief moment of empowerment ebbing away, Maya crumbles again, folding in on herself and slouching down to let her forehead rest against the cold porcelain of the bath.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

Justin isn’t the only one wondering about Maya’s absence. JOSH MATTHEWS has noticed -- partially because it’s so quiet without her blathering on and on about herself.

And because he’s got outstanding business with her. He never did hear back after he left her that voicemail, even though he’s been checking his messages and missed calls repeatedly. He thought he might be able to catch her in the office, at least let her know he left it in case she just for some reason missed it…

But clearly, that isn’t going to be so simple. Because for weeks now, M.H. has been M.I.A.

Josh clicks into his drafts in his email, where we see he’s crafted an entire email of all his notes to Maya about her demos. Thoughtful, even-handed with praise and constructive criticism, having given each of them more effort and time than Melissa or Justin have thrown their way combined. He wrote them down in the off-chance she rejected him outright, so he could at least give her the material to do with as she pleased…

But he can’t send it. He can’t let go of the hope he might be able to discuss it with her in person.

It’s dangerous to contemplate it here anyway. He goes back to his inbox, skimming through an email that just came through from Ernest Floyd. Based on the amount of exclamation points he included, he’s very excited about whatever he’s cooking up.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said and been putting it to work. I’m putting a bunch of new stuff together, and I can’t WAIT to show the world. I’m using one of those demo tracks you made me last summer -- prepare to be AMAZED!!!!!”

That’s nice. If only anyone on Earth cared. Josh starts to type out a canned encouraging response, just so he knows he’s still in his corner, but he’s distracted as MELISSA SUZUKI returns down the hall from lunch. She gives him a cheerful greeting as she passes. Josh returns it, about to let the moment pass…

Josh: Hey, is Maya coming in today? Or… at all this week? Melissa: Oh. You know, I’m not sure. I don’t think she’s on the calendar. [ playfully ] That’s your job, isn’t it? Josh: No, she isn’t. She hasn’t been. [ a beat ] I just thought maybe you all were meeting off schedule or something. Or she might stop by. I feel like she hasn’t been around in weeks.

Sure hasn’t, Josh. And Melissa knows this -- there’s a moment where her features flicker with recognition, and bizarrely, what looks like a hint of shame -- but she brushes it off a second later.

Melissa: I think she said she was going to take some time out of the studio, actually. Do some workshopping on her own. Josh: Oh. Okay. Melissa: But she should be back soon. I’m sure.

Melissa gives him a smile, then lets it drop. Josh doesn’t question further, but something about it all is still bothering him… if she’s working so hard on stuff on her own, then why is she leaving him on read? He thought they had gotten through their rough patch, that things were in a good state. If it’s not just her being petty for no reason again…

What is he missing?

[ 411 Hub ] [ Next (Part 1, half 2) → ]

#411

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vodkassassin · 3 years ago

Note

Inspired by your Jiuplane fic, Everyone loves SQH series and Nighthaunting's work.

Shen Jiu has never actually spared much attention to An Ding. While he doesn't consider them less-his past would never allow himself to look at anyone being derided for doing 'servant duties' less- he also doesn't pay much attention to them. Ever since Shang Qinghua modified the teleportation talismans for transporting large amounts of goods between the Peaks, An Ding disciples have all but disappeared from view. Shen Qingqiu occasionally saw a groundskeeper or a cook return back to An Ding but that was about it. He was pretty sure that people outside the sect saw more of the Logistics Peak than the people in it. And during meetings Shang Qinghua barely makes a sound, just records whatever was he was supposed to and just vanish off to his peak the minute the meeting inevitably ended in chaos. It was like An Ding never existed.......in hindsight, that should have been suspicious. But Shen Qingqiu never even noticed glaring absence and he would forever berate himself for that. It happened quite unexpectedly. Shen Qingqiu was supposed to go on mission with Qi Qingqi, the only Peak Lord he could tolerate beyond a certain period of time but Xuan Shu Peak suddenly had an emergency that she had to take care. Mu Qingfang was busy with preparing the Baying Moon Jade Orchid that he had been given (Really that should've tipped him off! Those flowers were ludicrously expensive because they only grow in the Demon Realm and Mu Qingfang had been given an entire crate of them along with his monthly supplies!), and the only other Peak Lords available were Liu Qingqe and Shang Qinghua. The choice was obvious.

The mission was relatively simple. Wan Jian disciples had been sent as a response to a request for assistance from a cluster of villages deep in a mountain valley. The disciples had found evidence of a large monster but it seemed to be intelligent and the presence of cultivators had run it off to a cave system. By the trails it left and it's actions, the lead disciple had judged it too dangerous for normal disciples, especially in the enclosed spaces of a cave system and had reported to his Peak Lord. The mission thus had been entered into the Peak Lords' roster. It should have been routine, should have been simple. But Shen Qingqiu had the world's worst luck and so everything turned sideways within ten minutes of them entering the cave.

First of all, the monster seemed to have destabilized the cave so they got caved in. Secondly, it wasn't a monster at all but a demonic beast, a Thousand Screams of Ruin Swan, a rabid thing that was created when someone forcibly corrupted a Thousand Screams Swan with too much demonic qi. And finally, the beasts absolutely hated each other. A Thousand Screams Swan had the ability to gauge the truth and a lie in its presence would not only prompt the most ear piercing of all screeches but also destabilizes the qi of the liar in particular and produce unimaginable pain. The southern demon courts use the swan in interrogations, putting the accused and the swan in enclosed spaces and the interrogators questioning from behind a sound muffling seal. However if the swan were overloaded with too much malicious qi, it would grow to enormous sizes and it's screech would actually cause death to anyone in the vicinity. In this state it was called a Thousand Screams of Ruin Swan. So after every interrogation the beast is taken for purification. The question is how a pair of valuable demonic beasts from the Southern Demon courts end up in a remote village far away from the borderlands?

If it was any other situation, Shen Qingqiu would've been fascinated. But as it was he had no time to dawdle. The confined space of the caves meant that the screeches of the swan would be magnified in intensity and their muffling shields were already cracking under the pressure of the sound waves. If they did, they would be dead as their qi system would be destabilized enough to cause a painful death. Shen Qingqiu, with his already unstable qi was extremely vulnerable in this situation. With Shang Qinghua having no combat ability to think of, they were completely under the mercy of two rabid S-rank demonic beasts who hated them and each other.

Then the shields cracked. Shen Qingqiu barely had time to close off his hearing using qi before Shang Qinghua disappeared into one of the caves with a beast after him. On one hand Shen Qingqiu now had to worry about only one Thousand Scream of Ruin Swan. On the other hand, no hearing was a double edged sword in a situation like this and there was no back up, negligible as it would have been. But he marshalled his focus and unsheathed Xiu Ya. If that overgrown bird thought that the Qing Jing Peak Lord was going down without a fight, it was wrong.

Two hours later the fight was still going on. His head was hurting only from being flung into the stone walls of the cave but also from sealing off his hearing for so long. The Beast's rampage had destroyed one of the cave walls and they had both fallen into a lake within the cave system. Shen Qingqiu had somehow managed to pull himself out of the water, not being stupid enough to fight a water fowl in water. He was exhausted, looked like a wet rag and was bleeding. There was no sign of Shang Qinghua and that either meant he was dead or that Shen Qingqiu was so far off from the main caves that he wouldn't be found in time. While the former was more likely, he at least hoped that Shang Qinghua made it to the surface and called for help because as much as he hated to admit it, that brute Liu Qingqe and his brutish sword would be helpful at the moment. He was tiring and his core couldn't hold on any longer while the beast was all but brimming in energy. It lunged and the Peak Lord futilely brought up his sword, knowing it wouldn't do anything, realizing that this was the end of Shen Jiu, dead by a rabid bird in a fucking cave. And then...there was light.

Lightning, there was lightning in the cave, huge arcs of it racing towards the beast and striking it over and over, the lake water acting as a conductor and exacerbating the damage. And on a ledge, was a creature wearing Shang Qinghua. Because that couldn't be Shang Qinghua. Shang Qinghua was a mousy, nervous, skittish mess of a man. Non obtrusive, and a pushover. He was weak and had no combat abilities to speak of. He barely had a core....except that wasn't true was it? None of them had ever seen Shang Qinghua fight. None of them had ever felt the power of his core. Shang Qinghua always ran solo and the occasional company of his head disciple so none of them had been on a mission with him. In fact, none of them knew anything about Shang Qinghua. They just assumed that he was weak...because he was An Ding and acted like a coward. But now it was clear Shen Qingqiu that it was by design. It should have impossible to constantly keep up a facade like that but looking at the imperious creature watching on dispassionately at the Demonic Beast writhing in his lightning, Shen Qingqiu knew that the impossible had been done.

The creature that was Shang Qinghua jumped down from the ledge and made his way to Shen Qingqiu. He was clutching a Thousand Screams Swan now back to its original size. He was barefoot. His clothing was ripped in places. A large slit too clean to be from the beast ran up both his legs just shy of his hips revealing long legs adorned in gorgeous ink patterns climbing up them and disappearing up the torso. It was clear Shang Qinghua cut them up to increase mobility. The sleeves were also ripped, also covered with beautiful tattoos and the high collar of the robes were open showing off beautiful collar bones. His hair was left free and falling russet waves down his back to his knees and with each shift Shen Qingqiu could see a silver shine of what seems to be metal strings woven into it. He was... He was a vision.

Shang Qinghua was always covered. He wore high collar robes that never showed an inch of skin on his body. So seeing him with his legs and arms and his collar visible, it was obscene! Shen Qingqiu realized to horror that he was blushing. His entire face was burning! Shang Qinghua must have succubus blood in him! He must have! Shen Qingqiu is not the type to blush at every pretty face! He hoped to the gods that Shang Qinghua just think of his blushing face as a result of exertion.

As Shang Qinghua drew closer, Shen Qingqiu noticed something strange. Gauntlets. Silver gauntlets carved with seals. Two on the ankles, two on the wrists. And one collar on the neck. Hidden underneath high collar robes as they were, this was the first time Shen Qingqiu had ever seen them. At first they looked like enhancers and looking at the lightning still attacking the beast which seemed to be getting smaller and smaller, it seemed most likely. But Shen Qingqiu was done assuming things about Shang Qinghua. And he was right, because closer inspection revealed the seals to be limiters. Shen Qingqiu for the first time since he became a Peak Lord, was truly astonished. Limiter seals active on five points on the body and undoubtedly forming a restructure five point qi circuit and still manages to defeat two S class demonic beasts? Incredible. Shen Qingqiu wanted to know everything about him. He wanted to burrow underneath his skin. He has never wanted anything more.

After the Beast shrunk down somehow, Shang Qinghua retrieved it with a talisman that seemed to be some sort of Binding. He silently clutched the swans together and made his way to one of the caves, silently motioning for Shen Qingqiu to follow. As they made their way up the caves, Shen Qingqiu looked at his mysterious companion and told him what he was adamant about from the moment he saw the other bring down the wrath of the heavens,

"You can't hide from me anymore."

Shang Qinghua was silent. Then, like a whisper of silk on soft skin, he replied,

"I can try."

Shen Qingqiu smirked,

"Yes you can. But you won't succeed."

The Xiu Ya sword looked the two beasts the other was holding, two Thousand Screams Swans.

"Is Shang Lei even a real name? "

The other didn't answer and that was an answer in itself. Shen Qingqiu couldn't wait to have him.

Anon oh my god this is GORGEOUS!!! Thank you for feeding me, it was delicious!! Bamf SQH! Beautiful SQH! Badass, pretty, mysterious SQH!!!! Attractive as hell, an unattainable prospect!!!

@nighthaunting look look, it’s our writing child

#SCREAMING #jiuplane #this is beautiful #thank you anon #anon ask #anon fanfic #anonymous #vodka answers

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bakugohoex · 4 years ago

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Can you do Jean x reader where they are both undercover at Marley 💕💕💕

part one: “this isn’t a date jean, we’re undercover”

paring: jean kirschtein x female reader

cw: season 4 spoiler but there is no manga spoiler at all, fluff, language

word count: 2600+

a/n: i had to read so much for this fic, but i got the jist of it, again making sure you guys know there is no spoilers for the manga in here and onlt a season four spoiler do if you guys havent watched the latest episodes be warned

summary: in which you and jean are undercover doing reconnaissance in marley, want turns to investigating a local bar leads to feelings finally being brought out from the two of you

part two | part three

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

The dress you wore covered your thighs and knees, it hugged you, the soft material being a drastic change from your normal attire. It was a warm mid-day, birds chirped and the sound of Marleyans engulphed your ears. In the 6 years in which you had known Jean you hadn’t ever expect an undercover mission taking place in Marley of all places.

He walked with your hand in his own, you smiling softly as you spoke nonchalantly to one another. It was unamusing and more a distraction than anything else. He picked the newspaper up on the stall, paying quickly as he walked back, you followed which felt more like being dragged along by his strong grip.

The way the top of his fedora sat on his now long hair, he heard about the victory of the Marleyans from a passer-by and with his hand in your own he opened the newspaper up. It was reconnaissance, you and him both knew you were supposed to act like one of these people even if they did think of you both as devils.

“I think we should visit that bar that woman told us about, a lot of the men there get drunk and reveal a lot.”

He looked down at you, your hands still connected. He had grown so much in all these years now reaching over 6ft, his long hair and scattered hairs along his chin making gorgeous. He had become the leader both you and Marco knew he would become.

“They’ll all stare at you, why would I want that?” he mutters.

You laugh at his antics, “you’re such an idiot.”

“You’re the one holding my hand.”

“Jean it’s a mission we have to pretend to be together for the performance.”

He raised an eyebrow you had full view of his face; his eyes were tired from the late nights working on the next plan of action. But most importantly, the fact that the two of you had to share a bed. He couldn’t even touch you as your small frame would sometimes push against his chest.

You smiled at the boy getting him out of his trance before skimming through the newspaper again. “We’ll go tonight after the meeting.”

You nod as the two of you walk towards the docks of Liberio. Both you and Jean were in the internment zone, a nice old woman allowing you to stay on top of her shop. Even with her being nice her opinions on titans and those within the walls were a lot cruller than u had expected.

It had been awkward the first time sleeping beside each other, you both looked up. Not facing each other but instead watching as the clock ticked away until one of you fell asleep. You both woke up wrapped in each other’s arms, and an awkwardness had set between you two from that night. You both would try to face away from each other but one way in another you ended up touching each other in some way.

He helped you up the stairs to where the little shop was kept, you both had gained some currency mostly from stealing it, but you never expected to stay here long. Only to find information until the true invasion would begin. Of course, the others were already here in their own recon missions, but you and Jean had been the first ones and had found out the most about this stupid town.

The biggest thing being that they hated Eldians of any type. You both walked through the double doors the woman smiling at how pretty you both looked together.

You had a meeting with the rest of the survey corps, Hange leading it, you got changed into what you’d wear to the bar knowing it was going to be a long night.

Jean stood at the door watching at how you easily took the dress off. You both didn’t care about changing clothes in front of each other, you’d seen worse from each other and it meant nothing after the tortures of titans.

The short dress fitted you perfectly and as Jean eyed you up and down, he craved any touch by you. He had taken the blue tie off and the suit jacket and waistcoat off leaving him in the white button up and trousers.

You smiled at how his hair stuck to the back of his neck, when he had first started growing his hair out you had loved it seeing the boy turn into a man. You both had changed since your cadet days and as much as you missed it you couldn’t say that being an adult didn’t have its perks.

“You know Y/n, I’d definitely accept any date proposals from you.”

You rolled your eyes at him, he always tormented you with the flirting. “Jean you really are a pain in my ass.”

“Such vulgar words from a pretty woman.”

You wanted to stab him with your ODM gear but instead stuck with jabbing him with your knee into his stomach. Normally when he was a lot younger it hurt him easily, but he seemed unfazed by the action almost finding it cute.

“Why did u have to grow so much? Short Jean was better.”

“Are you saying 15-year-old me is better than now me?”

You think back at the boy, bringing your finger to your chin. “Both you and 15-year-old you are pains to be around.”

He moves his face to your ear you could feel the hairs brush against your cheek from his chin as he spoke, “it’s okay Y/n we both know how you really feel.”

Rolling your eyes, he grabbed your hand almost out of instinct, you both leaving the shop as quickly as you came. Turning the many corners that Hange had told you to take after each different meeting.

The amount of walks you both went on should be unnecessary but the people of Liberio barely batted an eyelash at the two on you.

The dress was low cut and having all these new clothes made your heart warm up. You hadn’t worn different clothes in years, always the same uniform which you grew to dislike.

“Hange really sent us on a fucking expedition.” You mutter as you lean against Jean’s side.

He leads the way walking towards an unknown battered up building. It looked like it was being constructed and you were met with the scouts.

They eyed you both up your outfits standing out. “running late per usual.” Levi mutters.

As much as you had grown on Captain Levi, he still had a discomfort towards most of you. Both Jean and you let go of hands with ease standing beside each other. Before the meeting begun mostly talking about what had occurred and most significantly the defeat of Marleyans against the Mid-East.

“You know what that means, sometime soon is our time to act.” You professed, the new knowledge coming as a relief as it would soon be time for your plan to truly occur.

Armin and Mikasa spoke, the whereabouts of Eren being unknown due to his consistent disappearances. Watching these people grow you truly understood the mutual torment you all felt. As you were all dismissed all you could think about was the consistent opposition you all faced.

“I think the bars down here.” Jean retakes your hand as you smiled at him.

“Once this is over what do you think will happen.” You ask him softly.

“I don’t know.”

“Remember when we first met, and you were adamant on becoming an MP.” He listened raising an eyebrow. “Look at you now Mr Commanding Officer.”

You were proud of your friend he had worked hard to achieve this status. “You really are proud of me aren’t yah.”

You rolled your eyes gently hitting his side. “I’m telling the truth I’m proud of you.”

You had been timid in your choice of words you were proud, and he knew you were proud of him. Walking into the bar, the significant smell of alcohol mixed with sweat made you grossed out.

It was a rule to not drink under the survey corps and you hadn’t really cared for drinking. So, the sight of so many drunk people drove you mad, how easily a night of drinking could lead to a failed future.

Jean pulled out a chair for you before going to the bar, “I’ll get your favourite.”

You nodded playing with your fingers trying to listen in on the conversations that were occurring. Many Marleyans chatting shit about the Eldians and most specifically those of paradise island.

Your fist clenched as Jean brought two drinks out. “What is it?” You question looking at the red drink in front of you.

“You told me you liken cranberry juice once, i got you some”.

Your eyes widened at the boy, “Jean i said that like years ago.”

“Shows you how much i do care about you.” You rolled your eyes sipping on the drink. You both conversed but remained consistent with your spying on individuals.

“Those guys are talking about you.” Jean coughed out sipping his drink.

“I should go up to them i might get some information.”

“Don’t.” You raise an eyebrow going up to his ear. “They might steal you away.”

“This isn’t a date Jean, we’re undercover.” The way you spoke his name made him melt, he wanted to hear more of your voice specifically moaning his name out.

You stood up ready to go speak to them before you heard something come from their mouths. “If i ever saw one of those island folks I’d slit their throats and make their kids watch.”

You felt sick to the stomach by the comment and wanted to leave. Jean hadn’t heard it and as you stood frozen, he called out your name.

“Let’s get u outside.” He whispers taking your hand as you silently followed. “Are you okay?”

You nod, “I guess it just hit me we’re hated here the way the act towards us is the way we used to act against titans.”

You felt his arms wrap around you. He knew you hadn’t spoken much about the comments and that now you hit the realisation you’d confide in him more.

“I want to go back to the shop.” He nods as a comfortable silence settled in.

You cling to his arm wrapping your hands around his own. He loved the way you cling onto him like he was your protector, and you were his queen.

Walking down a long alleyway, you see some Marley men smoking and drinking. They’d be easy targets if you wanted to kill them, hearing them speak and whistle as you both walked past. Before one of them grabbing your wrist made Jean’s instincts kick in.

He punched the guy who had touched you, his filthy hands still lingering close to your body. The way Jean with ease was able to put down the two men who looked bruised and battered.

He put his hand out for you to take, he didn’t speak. Just bringing you the comfort you needed from this whole new world experience. Everything was so much bigger outside the walls and you couldn’t ever imagine putting innocent people in walls to keep them trapped.

The events of the night led to an uncomfortable silence once you arrived back to little room on top of the shop. He stripped his shirt off due to the excessive dirt it had got on it. You admired his body, the way each muscle sat perfectly on his abdomen.

You sat on the bed fidgeting with your clothes, you played with the hem of the dress which Jean could see your upper thigh from you doing.“Do you want to talk more about it?”

“I just… i guess it’s the reality.” You muttered as Jean sat beside you his shirt off. Titans seemed less scary than any of these indoctrinated Marleyans any day.

In the years Jean had known you seeing you vulnerable and passive made his heart ache. He took you by the hand letting you attach yourself to his side.

You were scared about the upcoming invasion and even worse you didn’t even know who you’d be fighting. The uncertain of it all being too much.

He walked up to you, moving closer to your smaller frame. “You didn’t have to punch those guys, I...I would’ve said something.”

“Y/n, you’ve been silent all night, you expect me to believe that you would’ve done something.” He bends down his knees touching the ground as he kneeled in front of you. His hands moving to your own stopping you from playing with your dress anymore.

Bringing your hands up to his mouth he kissed it as you could see some bruises, you stroked your thumb against the bruises hopefully it would settle down with some ice later. “What you said back in the bar?” You start to speak but you really had nothing to say, “about not going to those men.”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt if you talked to them and…” He trailed off.

“And?” You question.

He looked up at your bright face filled with love and happiness something he hadn’t seen in a very long time. “And you bring joy, in a shitty world like this I guess you’re the only one who truly brings a smile on my face.”

“Jean when did you get so sappy.” You giggle at his flustered look.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.” The tone in your voice was begging him to take you.

He rolls his eyes, his tongue flicking against the inside of his mouth as he stood up looking at you. He was even taller than before. You were a mouse compared to his frame; he bent his back bringing his face closer towards yours before a hand was placed on your cheek.

He closed the gap between the two of you, making your back hit the bed. His other hand moved to your side as he was on kissing you whilst he was on top. Your back arched at the movements wanting to feel his body on your own, as you deepened the kiss. Your hands in his long hair pulling his body closer to your own, as you felt the hardness come from his trousers.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t its baby.” He spoke stoically a cocky grin plastered to his face.

You smirked as he let go of your lips, moving his mouth to your neck as he moved your dress down your body, with your collarbone and neck revealed for him. He left marks and sucked on spots making you moan his name loudly.

“I’d…I… would n…never.” The moans engulphed you, you craved him even more.

He had never expected to hear you moan his name, and the sound of it, with you underneath fuelled him even more to continue the act. You closed your eyes as he bit and sucked on your collar before licking the side of your neck. The saltiness it brought making him lick his lips before he went back to kissing you.

The kiss was deeper, quicker than it previously had been, you placed your hands on his exposed chest. The way a single touch from you sent shivers down his spine, “I’ve always like you, y’know.”

“I assumed so.” You giggled, his body was on top of you trapping you between his broad arms and shoulders. It was a sight and you loved it.

You brought yourself up leaning up with your elbows, your dress was half off you and the way he looked at you knew that what would happen tonight had been long awaited from many many years ago.

proceed to part two here

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alaina-rose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel

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sortasirius · 4 years ago

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“Unity” and the Broken Boys

BOY Y’ALL BETTER SIT DOWN BECAUSE THIS IS AS LONG AS CAN BE AND I TOOK OFF WORK TOMORROW SO I’VE GOT TIME

This is....one of the best episodes in the show. Yeah, in all 325 of them, this is hands down one of the best.

First of all, stan Amara for clear skin.

That silent treatment babey, right out the gate with the Angst. Tbh Dean deserves it.

“Like I said, killing Amara, Jack dying...that’s the only way.”

“The only way. Our one shot. Our Last chance. You ever get tired of saying stuff like that?”

“We don’t have to like it, alright? But you and me, we gotta get it done.”

Amara is such a welcome energy in this whole episode. She’s warm and understanding, whip-smart and probably more powerful than Chuck. I love her.

Sam is a wonderful, understanding, loving dad. I love him eternally. He loves Jack so much, he’s trying so desperately to do what’s right for Jack but also what’s right for the world. Jack made this choice, but he can’t live with it. How do you support your child when their life is at stake?

“Come on man. Blindly following orders, lying to Amara, sending her to her death. Does any of this feel right to you??”

“It doesn’t matter how we feel! You know what? Stay. Stay. Someone has to be the grown up here.”

“Yeah well someone has to keep fighting for Jack!”

“He knows what he signed up for!”

“Last I checked, we don’t give up on family.”

“Jack’s not family.”

Y’all should have heard the noise I made. What a fucking line.

“I know how you feel about the kid, I care for him too, I do, but he’s not like you. He’s not like Cas. He’s just not.”

“I’m- I’m ready.”

You can see the regret, the heartbreak in Dean’s eyes. You can see how he wants to take those words back the moment he said them, and for Jack to hear them? It’s unthinkable.

Sam and Cas I’m just so fucking emo dude.

“Sam, you stayed behind to find another way huh? I woulda done the same.”

AMARA

First of all, LOVE this structure.

Amara and Chuck have such a fascinating dynamic. Rob and Emily do a great job (as they have all along) by clearly being siblings but...heightened. You can just tell they both exude power, and the other is the only one they consider an equal.

“You and Dean had that whole weird...thing.”

“That wasn’t you writing?”

“Ugh, not that part. Gross.”

What I took away from this is what I’ve suspected all along. They HAVE free will, just not total free will. Dean and Amara’s connection wasn’t Chuck, there are parts of the story he didn’t write. Obviously, this comes into play later.

I also have a hunch that Chuck doesn’t write romance. I also think that in particular will come into play.

“Balance. Something we’ve never tried before. Creation and destruction, light and dark, brother and sister united again, but on behalf of one world, this world. True balance. The way it was always meant to be. But you can’t. You only care about your pleasure, your story. Well, I guess that makes you the villain.”

“Villains get all the best lines.”

We see again and again this season, Chuck is irredeemable. He doesn’t care about the angels, he doesn’t care about the world, he doesn’t care about anything. He is a petulant toddler who has broken his toys. And when he realizes he’s trapped, he gets angry, he shouts and screams, completely at odds with Amara’s peace.

“You can’t hold me here forever.”

“I can hold you long enough.”

DEAN

Pain is the name of the game in this section homies. Because not only are we dealing with Dean’s pain, we’re also dealing with Jack’s. Jack says he understands why Cas and Sam mean more to Dean, but Dean clearly doesn’t, he, once again, wants to say more, but is stopped, still stopped by his fear: his fear of not beating Chuck.

Alright guys, gals, and non-binary pals. Let’s talk about Adam and Seraphina.

Adam. The first man. And Seraphina. The angel.

“My old lady. She’s the only one who could put up with me all these years.”

Yeah okay. Volume at 100 I get it lmao.

But also: Adam wants God dead not because he and Eve were kicked out of the Garden, but because he went after their sons. The theme of protecting the children strikes again.

“Killing God is your plan?”

“Yeah, Billie’s been giving us a hand but Sera and me, this is our baby.”

This juxtaposed directly with Dean’s own pain at what he has to do to kill Chuck, to gain his free will: the cost of his child.

Adam’s rib.

And who else might get his ribs hurt, only to be likely healed by an angel?

It’s fine, that’s fine. I’m fine with that.

“Jack, I don’t know how to explain it but, when I found out about Chuck, it’s like I wasn’t alive. Not really. You know like my whole life I’ve never been free, but like really free. But now? Now me and Sam, we got a shot at living a life, without all this crap on our backs. And that’s, that’s because of you. So, I want to say, I need to say...thank you, Jack. Thank you.”

I’m gonna have to do a separate post about just Dean in this episode, because there is so fucking much to talk about, but there are a couple of things that I think are important: Dean realizes how wrong he was, to say what he said. He knows that it’s not true, this is the way he’s always coped with loss, by pushing the person to be lost away, but for Jack to hear it? He can’t stand for that.

And:

Dean has finally pushed through the barrier. He won’t be quiet in the face of his doubts anymore. This is a breakthrough for him, and, of course, there are more to come.

SAM

Sam and Cas, my chaos duo.

The box, the inscription, the door.

Death’s library, filled with dead reapers.

And there it is. The Empty.

It tells Sam the plan, the plan for Billie to take God’s place. For everything to go back to the way it’s “supposed to be.”

This has always been the game, since season 13. This is the longest of long games.

Sam fuckin Winchester, lying his way out of a confrontation with the Empty like the legend that he is.

He comes back with a new purpose: to stop Billie’s plan, and here’s where we get to the heart of the episode and maybe the heart of the season.

“You hear that? Dean, brought to the edge of doubt. His sense of duty, his rage winning out in the end. And poor Sam, always gotta know everything. Can’t leave well enough alone. This is my ending, my real ending.”

The gun comes out, pointed at Sam.

Hmm...what did I say during 15x05? Oh yeah, this.

And:

Dean would never survive killing Sam, but he’s willing to do anything, anything to earn his freedom. His ending, where one brother kills the other and then kill himself.

Why, you might ask, did Sam not mention that the angels would be sent back to Heaven, why does he not mention Cas? I’ll tell you why, or rather, Becky will.

Plus, Dean looks back at Cas IMMEDIATELY when Sam says that, when he mentions Eileen, and THAT’S the first time he hesitates. He can’t lose Cas. But at the same time, he’s willing to do anything to have his freedom.

“Sam we don’t have a choice, Jack’s about to blow!”

“We always have a choice!”

You know me, just sitting here thinking about choice, the ability to choose, and how that translates to their free will.

And Sam...I don’t think there will ever be characters I love as much as these.

“I don’t care if Billie gets what she wants! I don’t man, I’d trade it all, I’d trade em all for Chuck. In a heartbeat!”

“What about me?”

“You’d trade me?”

“Chuck has to die. He has to! Otherwise he’ll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can’t live like that man, I can’t live like that, I won’t!”

“I know you feel like that right now, okay? I know you do, but you gotta trust me. My entire life, you’ve protected me. From Dad, from Lucifer, from everything. I didn’t always like it, you know? But it’s the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on. It’s the only thing I’ve ever known that was true. So please, put the gun away. Just put it away. We’ll figure it out, Dean, we’ll find another way, you and me. We always do.”

Okay I feel like this is going to be one of those scenes that I cry watching for years to come. Because fuck. After fifteen years they finally admit that not only did Dean protect Sam from Lucifer, but he protected him from John. John. On a par with Lucifer.

Dean and Sam have, for so many years, sacrificed themselves for the other. Dean’s demon deal, Sam and the trials, every season they have fought to see who can die the quickest for the other. But this? This is them fighting to stop the violence, to stop from killing the big bad. This is them growing, in our eyes, in real time. Sam has always been able to get through to Dean when no one else had a prayer, but for Dean to listen, for Dean to take his words to heart, to stop the hunt for Sam, for their family, that’s how you know they do have free will.

(Btw Chuck’s eye effect when he dusted Amara was sick as fuck but I’m emo for my boys so.)

Chuck knows it’s a loss, he knows that his story has, once again, been thwarted by the boys making their own choices. And he’s pissed, but in his anger, we get a bomb dropped on us.

“Spare me your contempt Castiel, the self-hating angel of Thursday. You know what every other version of you did after “gripping him tight and raising him from perdition”? They did what they were told. But not you. Not the one off the line with a crack in his chassis.”

Are you fucking kidding me?

Also, just worth bringing up this one as well:

Every Castiel pulled Dean out of Hell. Every one told him the same thing. And yet, immediately, with this Cas and this Dean, something was different. Because what has everyone seen about Cas, from the moment he met Dean?

And there’s our endgame people. Laid out on the line.

But we ain’t done yet, fam.

We’ve talked about the handprint, but you know:

So there you have it, our prep into the “monumental” 15x18. I have spec on that, of course, but I think a novel is long enough for this.

What to take away: Dean’s rage was always Chuck’s plan, they do have free will, their love for each other, for their family, is what will stop Chuck’s control, Death is about to come back with a vengeance, Cas’ deal is at play, and, most importantly, Castiel and Dean Winchester are a blind spot for Chuck, something he has never, not once, controlled.

#welcome to my essay lmao #supernatural #spn #spoilers #my meta #spn 15x17 #destiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #jack kline #castiel #amara #chuck shurley #lilly liveblogs supernatural

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6sakusa · 4 years ago

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‘last’ sakusa kiyoomi.

a/n: so this was a request for and i quote ‘angst that will cause extreme pain.” i hope this lives up to it.

warnings: angst, death & mentione of it, self-blaming, relationship issues.

“you just don’t stop don’t you? is it that hard to be less irritating?” sakusa huffed. the two of you had been engaging in an argument over the pettiest matter once again, and at this point you weren’t even near surprised. it had kicked off with you asking your boyfriend if he had eaten out of concern and then him proceeding to label you as ‘clingy’.

recently things were just different, he wasn’t treating you the same anymore and he barely made time for you. most people would say this was a common occurrence once any relationship had come out of the honeymoon phase, the only problem was you and sakusa were long out of that fairytale whirlwind. but through it all, he still showed immense love towards you, considering you had been together for years you were honestly expecting a proposal soon. but that all changed recently, and to make matters worse you couldn’t for the life of you pinpoint why.

maybe, just maybe.. was there someone else?

“i just care about you that’s it, why are you so adamant on turning things into an argument?” you sighed recalling at the way he snapped at you. his reaction would have shocked anyone but at this point in time, as much as you hated to admit it, you were almost getting used to it now.

but that didn’t mean it hurt any less, no, definitely not. it was just as painful each and everytime you saw the blank expression on his face, the way he went out of his way to avoid you and the growing irritation on his features everytime he was made to face you.

“because you’re annoying.” he blurted out seemingly without thinking, in all truth sakusa definitely did not think you were annoying, actually, he quite loved when you made an effort with him. but lately, he just doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. he loved you with all his heart and he wants to propose to you more than anything but the concept scares him, the fact that the two of you being married would mean you’re practically stuck with him. and he doesn’t want that for you, you deserve better. you deserve someone who is comfortable parading you around to the world, someone who is okay with going out on dates in crowded places, someone who will give you affection whenever you need it, someone who is good with words.

sakusa is not that person.

it would break his heart to see that one day you were regretting your decision of saying yes to him because he couldn’t provide what you needed. so his last resort? push you away. not far enough so that the two of you are no longer together because he couldn’t bare the thought of no longer being able to call you his, but far enough for him to have time to get his shit together, so he could come to you better and improved.

“so you don’t want me to talk to you is that it? God what has gotten into you? do you not want to be together anymore?” your voice faltered towards the end as you broke eye-contact with your boyfriend, tears were threatening to spill any moment and your heart was breaking in your chest. you were a bad person, you were a bad person because you were practically forcing him to stay with you even though it was so clear that he didn’t love you anymore.

well, that’s what you thought.

he stayed quiet at your question.. no, he doesn’t want to break up, that would be catastrophic for the both of you and besides he couldn’t ever love anyone the way he loved you. but if he responded saying he wanted to stay together that would prompt you to spark a conversation about why he was acting the way he was, and if there was one thing sakusa hated it was vulnerability.

“i just need some time to think.” that was a good response, he thought. he wasn’t ending things but you wouldn’t push further after that and he knew that, it was .. perfect.

“i’ll give you some time then.” tears were already staining your new top, you were excited to show it to sakusa because it was one of your favourite purchases you had ever made, but instead you had decided not to, you were weary of bothering him.

of course your tears didn’t go unnoticed by him, he watched as you put your shoes on and grabbed your coat from the hanger. he made a mental note to beat the shit out of himself for making you cry the moment you had stepped foot out of the door, and that’s exactly what he did.

he turned to the counter slamming his hands against his head, he needed to get his shit together and he needed to now.

it had been years and you had never expressed any distaste in sakusa’s personality or his methods of affections, would you really start now? maybe this was all stupid, it wasn’t like he would be forcing you to marry him so if you ended up getting tired of him in the future there wasn’t much he could do about it.

if anything, he knew he would regret not getting to put a ring on your finger at all and never knowing what could have been.

so that’s it, that’s decided. he was going to marry you and he would get it together the second you walked back through the door, he would give you the most loving embrace he could possibly muster up, and he would spend the next few months apologising for his behaviour. he would sit and listen to you babble all about the new top you bought because he did notice how much you had adored it when you had brought it home a week ago. and tomorrow he would go out and buy you a few gifts, there was that necklace that you loved from the quaint jewellery store down the road. that’s where he would be heading to first. because sakusa kiyoomi would do anything for you.

meanwhile you were imagining every possibility that could occur the moment you stepped back in. he would break up with you, it was inevitable. he practically hated you, you were acting like such a burden, an irritating and annoying burden. but you wished more than anything that things could be different because you loved sakusa with your entire being, there was no way you would move on once he discarded you. you had imagined your entire future with him and no one else, there was no way that you could change things now.

you sighed pulling out a polaroid of you and sakusa, the cold air that hit your hands just made you feel that much more alone. but you ignored it as you ran your hands over the picture, it was the two of you during the first christmas you had spent together. he had spoiled you so much that day with gifts that you had cried numerous times and begged him to return atleast half of it because it was way too expensive and you felt bad. you were cheery eyed with a wide smile and a small tear adorned your cheek, one of joy as sakusa hung off your arm. his smile was small but it was there, he was just happy that you were happy, he had loved you so much and you couldn’t help but wonder where it had all gone wrong.

why didn’t he love you anymore?

sakusa bumped his leg up and down on the livingroom couch, he couldn’t stop glancing at the clock. it had been three hours which was far too long for you to be gone without a word, to make things even worse you had left your phone in your shared bedroom meaning he had no direct method of contacting you.

a buzz resounded in the room and your boyfriend had never moved so fast so pick up the phone in his life, admittedly he was getting severely worried. he didn’t want you walking out of his life, but thankfully by tomorrow he would wake up next to your beautiful smile and everything would go back to normal.

“hello? is this uhh — sakusa kiyoomi?” there was a feminine voice on the other side of the line who sounded cautious about the pronouncation of his name, additionally, her voice sounded unsteady, it was almost as if she was scared.

“yes.” he responded bluntly wondering who this wench thought she was to be wasting his time, she had even called on no caller id. he had half the mind to hang up on her now, if anything you could be calling him this very moment and it was sending you to voicemail because he was occupied with this girl.

“sorry to impose but you are listed as l/n y/n’s emergency contact, are you aware of this?” his back pricked up at the mention of your name, emergency contact? now he was beyond worried.

“yes i am.”

“i’m sorry to say but— l/n was hit by a vehicle moving at almost fifty miles per hour and — she didn’t make it.” in that moment sakusa had never felt more dread in his life, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. was she saying that you were.. dead? but you couldn’t be dead, no you couldn’t be because he never even got to apologise to you, and you never got to accept his apology. he never got to buy you that necklace, things never got to go back to normal, he wouldn’t be able to live out the rest of his days with you.

he never got to propose. so no, you couldn’t be dead.

then why was he crying? this is the first time sakusa remembers crying as an adult, if it wasn’t true why was it feeling like his soul was being sucked out of him? why did it feel like even though he was a well renowned volleyball player loved by millions he meant nothing anymore? why did it feel like life had no meaning?

he didn’t even realise the phone call was still going on until he heard the woman clear her throat on the other line. “she wanted to tell you.. she’s sorry and she loves— loved you.” she corrected her mistake almost immediately but this didn’t do anything but make him feel worse.

“the hospital will contact you with more details soon, sorry for your loss.” and with that, the line went dead.

sorry? she was saying sorry too? and you.. why were you apologising? in your last moments did you really spend that time asking the paramedics to tell him that you were sorry? you hadn’t done anything wrong, you had never done anything wrong, it was all him, he was the problem, he was a fool.

he threw his phone against the wall and watched as it clattered against the floor with tear-filled eyes. this was his fault, if it wasn’t for him you would never have gone out, maybe if it was just one second later, maybe if hadn’t acted this way, maybe if he had stopped you from leaving, maybe—

so that was it.. even if he thought he was doing everything he could to protect you he had hurt you anyway, in the worst way possible. and how could he forgive himself? he never would.. he never could. because that day he lost everything, because you were his everything, the most precious thing to enter his life, his pride and joy, his entire life.

you were too distracted by the picture of the two of you together, now it laid discarded on the side of the road with a streak of blood staining the bottom half. thankfully the picture was still recognisable, because you made sure it was in your last moments, kiyoomi would be mad if you got it dirty.

regret was an understatement.

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psychovigilantewrites · 4 years ago

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Chapter 14 - A Different Point of View

Summary: Things that happened that you weren't aware of.

Word count: 9,163 words

A/N: Thank you for being so patient with me. I struggled with this chapter due to its nature. I had to further dive into Bruce and Dick's character that I wasn't too familiar with.2020 was a very tough year for me. I lost lots, learned lots. And I thought that the quarantine would mean I would write more. But I was wrong. Life hit me hard, and I stopped doing a lot of things I used to enjoy.Despite being virtually absent last year, you guys stuck by me anyway. Thank you. I love you all for that.Special thanks to my two beta readers. You know who you are. Here it goes.

(i recommend you guys read previous chapters to refresh coz I had to lol)

Ao3

Masterlist

The roles that people played were false- a mere necessity for their career or survival. Everyone was playing a role, whether it was of their own accord or not.

Bruce Wayne was a role- superficial, fake, yet vital to Gotham. Batman, on the other hand, was a completely different role, born out of exigence and a sense of justice.

Dick Grayson, however, genuinely enjoyed playing his role.

Nightwing felt right to him. Being a police officer felt right to him. And especially, if not ultimately, being an older brother.

He listened to the dial tone of his phone, which rung for a few seconds before you finally picked up.

“Hey,” Dick heard your voice, the usual chirp absent that day.

Dick frowned to himself. Bruce was right about you being troubled after all.

“Hey, sis!” he forced the concern out of his voice. “You busy?”

“Nah, I’m just going over some old case files. What’s up?”

Dick leaned back into his sofa. Aside from the traffic blaring outside, the silence in his apartment made it easier for him to concentrate on analysing your speech patterns.

“Can’t I call just to ask how you’re doing?” he teased, easing into the conversation.

Everyone had always told him how he was natural at talking.

“You already called last week…”

Dick smiled to himself. He could already picture your narrowed eyes regarding him with suspicion.

It was good that you were always on your feet, but it was becoming borderline unhealthy. It reminded him of Jason and how he was always so guarded .

He pushed the memory away.

“I can’t call you again?” he rolled his eyes at no one.

“Bruce put you up to this,” you accused.

That’s because he’s worried about you, kid.

If only you knew how much Bruce had changed for you. Dick was glad that you were being loved by Bruce, yet he still couldn't help but feel slightly bitter that he never got that kind of treatment from his father- not the same treatment he gave you.

But he would rather die than admit his selfish thoughts to anyone.

“Yeah,” he conceded, “He was worried about you after last night.”

“I’m fine, Dick,” you insisted.

How many times has he heard those very same words from Jason?

“Well, if you’re not, then you can talk to me,” he offered.

A short pause.

Your response would be what differentiated you from his late brother.

“Actually, yeah,” you admitted.

There it was. No matter how stupid he knew it was for even comparing the two of you, he found that he always had to remind himself not to.

“How did you deal with it? Did it affect you?”

Dick told you his own experience with gore and dead bodies, how he overcame it, how he coped. There was silence after, and he just somehow knew what you were going to ask next.

“How did, uh, he deal with it?”

Your voice came in a whisper, hesitation evidently clear.

Dick was expecting it, but his heart still sank. He knew how everyone acted when Jason was brought up in conversation- he was guilty of reacting as well. He also knew how you were smart enough to avoid that topic.

It had been years. They should all have moved on, because Dick knew that they were also hurting you.

“He came to me as well.” Dick recalled Jason’s hesitant voice over the phone, never directly saying what was wrong, just rambling about things other than what was really going on in his head.

“Then he gradually called less and less when he learned how to deal with it himself.”

The day Dick noticed it, he was happy for Jason, but a small part of him was saddened that his little brother no longer needed him.

“I’ll have to look for that cognitive therapy, then. Thank you for calling, Dick. Talking to you helped.”

Did it really? He noticed your voice had changed again. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone on about Jason like that.

“No problem, kid. Call me if you need to talk, okay?”

The familiar beep left him isolated with his thoughts, wondering if you would trail in Jason's footsteps.

When will the day come when you eventually stop calling altogether?

***

He felt indebted to his city- the city he loved. The city he hated. The city that robbed him of his childhood.

He felt indebted to his family- the family he would give up everything for, the family he couldn’t stop hurting.

And he was sorry. God, he was sorry.

Sorry for everything he’s said and done- or didn’t do. But he still couldn’t stop. Because he didn’t know how.

Yet, no matter how much he claimed to love his family, the problem with Bruce Wayne was that he always expected them to be the people he wanted them to be.

Never like himself, though. No, he would never want them to turn out like him.

“That’s an order. Stay-”

The silence that followed the click in his ear represented the first time you had ever disobeyed a direct order.

It was a little late on your side. Dick and Jason had begun to disobey him within their first six months in uniform. But you had always been obedient- which made it easier for Bruce to trust you in the field.

This first time came as an unexpected and unwelcome surprise. And Bruce was…

Disappointed.

He grit his teeth when he saw you on the ground with the warehouse burning behind you. If he had just been a few seconds late, would you be in the fire, too?

“I almost had him.”

Bruce didn’t miss the wince of pain as you got up to your feet.

He had heard those exact words before countless times from J- no.

Bruce shoved that thought away.

“He would have gotten away, and we wouldn’t have known who it was that did this,” you argued, brows drawn together in a frown, mouth downturned. Your respiratory rate was high, and you were having trouble breathing.

When did you grow so tall? So confident?

Bruce silently pointed to the active security camera he noticed the minute he arrived and saw your expression fall- only for a second.

“I still think I made the right decision,” you insisted.

“You disobeyed a direct order.” He hated his own voice. The way he spoke sounded too militant.

“I acted how I saw fit,” you continued, “You always say to follow my instincts-”

“Not if your instincts contradict my orders.” He regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. He thought he had changed. But no, Bruce was still a dictator.

“Wow. Just- wow.”

He could see the little twitches of annoyance within the disbelief on your face. He understood it completely.

You were walking away, clutching onto your side and weakly limping to your bike, adamant on not seeking his help.

He hated seeing you injured, in pain. It was his fault. If only he was faster, he could have stopped Red Hood from beating you up. If only he predicted it sooner, if only-

“I’ll be heading back now.”

He missed what you had said before that.

“Robin,” Bruce forced out, “Have Alfred check your injuries.”

He should have been there.

When you drove away, he lingered at the crime scene.

Bruce flipped a switch in his helmet, and his lense changed. Non-organic material lighted up bright white. He noticed a fractured piece of shrapnel lying on the ground, less than a centimeter long.

He picked it up and placed it into a test tube from his belt. Switching his view to normal, he saw that it was red, maybe made from fiberglass. He could only deduce that it was a piece of Red Hood’s helmet.

Despite Bruce’s frustrations at you for disobeying him, he felt a swell of pride. You probably landed a hit hard enough to crack the helmet just a little bit that you yourself probably didn’t even realise it.

He shone a UV light on it. A small portion of it glowed.

Bruce had always been numb when he played investigator so that he would remain impartial and objective. That was true justice.

But when he pocketed the evidence and sped to the Batmobile, he felt something he had never felt before.

Against all logic and rationality, he found himself dreading to uncover who the blood belonged to.

***

Bruce never drank his sorrows away. It was dangerous, too easy to develop an addiction to. He could have easily drowned in alcohol at any given chance, like when he thought of his parents, or when he thought-no, knew- he wasn’t enough.

But no, he only restricted his drinking for leisurely activities. He was disciplined. It was the reason why he was who he was.

However, in that moment, staring at the results of the DNA analysis after hours of anxious waiting, he wished he allowed himself a drink.

Not because he was distraught, not because he was in grief- but because he just didn’t know what to feel.

It wasn’t numbness. It was just plain confusion, an internal tornado of emotions whirling inside him all at once.

Footsteps.

He tapped on a button once, immediately closing the window of the test results displayed on the screen.

Composing himself, he clicked on another pending case to pretend he wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown. It’s just another role.

“Master Bruce.”

Why was he still up at this hour?

“Yes, Alfred,” he turned to meet the butler’s tired eyes- just as tired as his own.

Tired because of him.

Alfred was always up because of him. Because Bruce was a disease, constantly burdening others, dragging them down, keeping them up at night.

“I made some sandwiches. They’re light. Please do eat them,” he set the tray on the cluttered desk, simply pushing aside the numerous stacks of papers.

“Go to bed, Alfred,” he told him. Alfred was too old to be up at this hour. And whose fault is that?

“In due time,” he responded calmly, “What of the blood results, if I may ask?”

“Inconclusive,” Bruce lied.

“I see.”

Suspicion shrouded Alfred’s voice.

“How are her injuries?” Bruce asked, the pain finally creeping in, seeping into his bones.

“I commend you for asking about your daughter’s injuries after only four whole hours of staring at the screen, Master Bruce. You would definitely win father of the year.”

“I was occupied,” he sighed, “Please.”

“Her injuries are only superficial,” Alfred said, “Surface contusions at most.”

He still hurt her.

“Thank you, Alfred. Now go to bed.”

“It was only a little more than two decades ago when I was telling you the same,” he grumbled away.

Bruce made sure Alfred was gone before pulling up the results on the screen again, the glaring ‘MATCH’ sign staring angrily back at him as if it were shouting at Bruce, yelling in rage.

And Bruce understood completely. He had failed Jason Todd. He had betrayed him. And now he was back, vengeful, and full of resentment.

But that didn’t matter to Bruce.

Because despite it all, his son was alive.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

***

What did my son do to my daughter?

Bruce watched in horror as you lay unconscious on the hospital bed, hooked to the IV bag. He couldn’t stop staring at the bruises littering your neck.

Bruises that were far too small and evenly shaped to be the effect of a mere throttling.

He knew how the people close to him viewed him. He knew they thought he was strong, unforgiving, cold, emotionless. Especially when they put him side by side with Clark.

But he forced himself to be those things, because if he didn’t, he would have broken down years ago.

He was used to it. The pain. The darkness.

But this time, he felt like he was being crushed.

He felt like he was hanging on by a thread- no. A delicate strand of thin, brittle hair.

“It’s okay, doctor,” you had said, “I know what you’re going to ask me. No, my genitalia does not hurt. He didn’t do anything to me.”

He felt a wave of relief crash over him.

Jason wasn’t that far gone, then.

But as Bruce looked at your neck again, he still couldn’t help but feel nausea crawling into his core.

He still touched her.

Jim left after his questioning, and you drifted to sleep. He went over to you and looked down at your face, taking everything in.

Since when did you look so mature? When did you get so beautiful?

He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. Even in sleep you had your eyebrows tugged down, as if you were angry that you had to go to bed. He didn’t know why he never saw that small part of you that shouted rebellion despite you almost always following his orders.

He realised that when he watched you sleep, you looked a bit like- no. Don’t ever compare the two.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to your forehead, trying to convey all of his feelings to you.

He was sorry. So god damned sorry for dragging you into this, for hurting you, for pulling you down to the depths with him.

Hoping you didn’t feel the teardrop that fell to your forehead, he quickly wiped it away before leaving for his press statement.

***

“Master Bruce, please!”

Another crash.

Alfred’s plea snapped him out of his blinding fury, his crushing pain.

He was standing at the hallway near the Manor entrance, glass and broken wood shattered at his feet, feeling the walls closing in and narrowing as Alfred looked at him in alarm.

“I-I’m sorry, Alfred. I-” he stammered, feeling like the small, helpless boy who watched his parents die before him.

He remembered the time when he was little, only a couple of months after the tragedy. He had done the exact same thing, taking out his anger and anguish by destroying things, triggered by something he had long forgotten about.

At that time, Alfred had held him closely in his arms as he stained the butler’s suit with his snot and tears. Again, a burden to the man who raised him.

This time, he refused the old man’s offer of comfort, walking past to descend to the cold darkness of the cave he was so familiar with.

Bruce didn’t usually drink his sorrows away, but this time, he did.

***

Dick wasn’t a good person. He was far from it.

Case in example, it was the first time he saw you after your kidnapping.

He meant to come sooner, he really did. But he was just so busy in Bludhaven, he couldn’t spare any time to rush over the moment he heard his sister was hurt. He tried to justify it in his head by thinking that you were probably handling it fine.

But he was just trying to make himself feel better.

What a great brother he was.

“So, why are you obsessing over violent crimes?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from breaking.

Desensitization was one thing when you worked in that field, but obsession was a whole other problem. And he didn’t want to see his sister walk down that path.

“A lunatic just kidnapped me a couple weeks ago, Dick, maybe this is my coping mechanism,” you huffed, giving him your signature eye roll.

A lot of things start with just a coping mechanism, kid.

Dick knew it about it all too well. The people he brought in on an almost daily basis, high as kites. The accident last week on the highway at three in the morning, two innocent lives taken because of a drunk man who had started drinking three years ago to cope with his mother’s loss.

The man downstairs in the cold cave, who was just a little boy when his parents died, now living with the trauma while going out night after night to beat up criminals, sleeping only three hours a day at most.

“I don’t want your pity, Dick,” you huffed, “I’m fine.”

Yeah, you were. And that was what worried Dick the most.

“I know you are,” he tried to smile, “Which is why I don’t think this is your coping mechanism.”

You talked to Dick about Red Hood, sharing your concerns about him. This is what made you, you. Opening up to him, offering your thoughts and feelings. It was something he never had with Bruce or Jason. The both of them were similar in that sense.

“He won’t tell me either,” Dick huffed, “It’s always been like that with him. No matter how hard I try to get closer to him, sometimes it feels like he’s getting further away.”

It was the same with Jason as well. Did everyone he cared about just end up running away from him?

“I can relate to that,” you sighed.

“But I have a feeling that he will tell you eventually,” Dick tried to comfort you, “It seems too important not to.”

Dick knew better. Bruce had always excluded information from him, whether it was important or not.

“And,” Dick hurriedly tried to change the subject, “I heard from Alfred that you’re not talking to Bruce. May I ask why?”

“So that’s why you’re here,” you eyed him suspiciously. . “I came to check up on you,” he stated, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come here right after, but my little sister did just get kidnapped.”

When are you going to stop putting your guard up around me, kid?

“I told you, I’m fine,” you insisted.

“Then you’re fine enough to tell me why you haven’t been talking to Bruce,” Dick pushed, “I won’t judge. I’ve had my fair share of cold shoulders and fights with him too. I know first hand how frustrating he can be. So come on, tell.”

He saw you hesitate for just a moment, before conceding.

“We fought,” you began, “It was when I got back from the hospital. He wouldn’t tell me who Red Hood was. And he- he called me ‘Jason’.”

Ah, fucking hell, Bruce.

“Jesus,” he whispered, “What did he say exactly?”

“‘Back down, Jason’,” your voice cracked.

Dick saw the way Bruce spiraled after Jason’s death, and he would never tell you this, but deep down he was against Bruce adopting you so soon after. He thought that Bruce was using you to fill up the hole he too felt with Jason’s absence.

You were so like him, yet so different. Still, Bruce must have been really distracted if he could slip as badly as he did.

Dick would ask later.

“Now that’s something I haven’t heard in years,” Dick chuckled humorlessly.

Jason arguing with Bruce about using excessive force. Jason sneaking out to go for patrols whenever he was grounded. Hell, even Jason stealing whiskey from the cabinet at the age of fifteen.

He could still remember it so clearly. Jason with his dark hair poking into his eyes that were full of fury, cheeks puffed up and red as he pouted angrily at Bruce for making him stay at the Manor on nights Bruce insisted on going alone.

Dick tried to shove the past away. He knew he was making you even sadder.

“Has Bruce made any attempts to reconcile?” Dick remembered the conversation he was having with you.

“Yeah, but I’m still mad at him,” you pouted.

“And you have every right to be,” Dick nodded, “But Bruce, well, you know Bruce. He keeps these things to himself, but obviously he’s still hurting.”

You have know idea how much he’s hurting, Little Wing.

You avoided Dick’s eyes, looking down at your fumbling thumbs as the room became silent.

“I’m seeing someone,” you changed the subject.

“You are?”

Interesting.

“Yeah,” you blushed, “It’s still very new, and we’re not official yet or anything. But we’re definitely testing the waters.”

“That’s great,” Dick grinned, “Who is he? Tell me the deets. Spill the tea.”

He sort of loved gossip. It wasn’t a secret.

“I met him in the library a while back,” you excitedly said, “We exchanged numbers. Started texting, meeting up from time to time. He’s really cute.”

Ah, young love. What Dick would give to be at that age again.

“I bet he is,” Dick teased.

“What’s with that face?” you laughed, “He is! He’s slightly older, and he’s got this sexy bad boy look, you know?”

“I thought you liked the nerdy types?” Dick responded. He saw a picture of you and your classmates on your Instagram. Typical prep school kids.

“I never had a type, you ass!” . “You’re right. I thought you were completely uninterested in boys,” he wondered out loud, “Is he nice, at least?”

“Yeah he is,” you smiled to yourself, “He didn’t know I was Wayne until 2 weeks ago. Before that, we were mainly texting. Now we’re meeting up more. I feel like I can be myself with him. I don’t know, there’s just something about him that makes me trust him.”

So you still have some of your walls up with me, but you trust a stranger? Who is this guy?

“I’m not going to tell him anything!” you quickly added, “I’m not stupid. I know I shouldn’t trust someone I just met. It’s not about the confidential stuff. It’s the little things like how I feel, and my problems, and just- stuff, you know?”

The thought didn’t even cross his mind. Dick trusted you enough with their secret, just as how Bruce did.

“I get it,” Dick tried to rationalise, “You don’t know what it is about the person, but you feel like the two of you just click, am I right?”

It had been like that with Barbara. It had been like that with Kory.

Now Dick was alone, and deep down he knew that they saw him as how he truly was. Selfish.

“Exactly,” you smiled, “Been with anyone like that before?”

“One or two,” he brushed it off, “People like that- whom you just click with- they’re hard to come by. You should see where this leads. Who knows, maybe he’s one of those that would stick around, huh?”

What he would give to have at least one person who would stick with him.

After he met with Gordon, Dick went to the cave to see Bruce who was, of course, facing the computers.

“I know what you’re going to say,” his father’s voice echoed without even turning to look at him.

“Then you know how much you’ve hurt her?” he crossed his arms.

Bruce did turn around to face him, and Dick suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.

He knew that Bruce hardly ever slept, but this was different. He looked disheveled, his complexion pale, his eyes more bloodshot and the dark circles even more prominent.

Alfred did say how badly Bruce took the kidnapping, finding him passed out on the cave floor with an empty bottle of scotch in his hand, but he thought that Bruce would have gotten himself together by now. It was surprising to see him that way, and Dick felt… Uncomfortable.

Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just the kidnapping, nor his fight with you.

“You found out something,” Dick narrowed his eyes, “Something important. What is it?”

He caught a flash of guilt in Bruce’s eyes. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Bruce,” Dick groaned, “This is why you keep on hurting her.”

Hurting us.

“I’m protecting everyone.”

“You can’t use that excuse with me anymore,” he sighed, “I don’t need your protection. So tell me.”

“No.”

That was his final word, and he knew that Bruce would never budge.

“Fine,” he let out a breath, “Did you know that she’s seeing someone?”

Bruce frowned.

Which made Dick frown. Since when did Bruce miss things? What the fuck was going on with him?

“Name?”

“Dunno. Didn’t ask. And no, don’t you dare,” Dick pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Do not do a background check on him. She deserves privacy. Hell, don’t even bring it up. You have no right to go poking into her relationships.”

Dick was being defensive, but that was because he was trying to convince himself as well, which was why he didn’t ask you for a name. He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“I wasn’t going to,” Bruce reassured, “She… She deserves a life. A normal life. Not this- not-”

Dick knew then he had to leave, because Bruce’s voice breaking meant he was far from okay, and he knew that Bruce hated to show his vulnerability to anyone.

“Bruce,” Dick said, this time softly, “You’re not alone, you know. I’ve been with you since the beginning, and I’m still with you now.”

And with that, Bruce turned his back towards him again, silently going back to his goddamned computers.

“He’s been that way ever since the kidnapping,” Alfred informed him when he walked up to the manor.

“I don’t think it’s just the kidnapping, Alf,” he frowned at the butler, “There’s something more to it. Did he figure out who Red Hood is?”

“Perhaps,” Alfred pursed his lips, “But he refuses to tell me.”

“That means we know him personally,” Dick theorised, “Who the hell could it be that he’s so adamant on keeping it a secret?”

“I do not know Master Dick, but it can’t be anyone good if he’s got Master Bruce drinking during the day.”

***

Bruce knew that he was wrong to call you by his dead son’s name.

But his dead son was supposed to stay dead instead of haunting him with that glaring red bat across his chest, and having that thought in his head all the time, he slipped up.

He prided himself with his contingency plans and detective skills and preparations, but no amount of time could ever prepare him for when he found out his dead son had sexually assaulted his daughter.

You seemed to have dealt with it surprisingly well, exceeding his expectations. In fact, Bruce thought it was a bit odd that you weren’t as affected by it.

And then he saw it.

He saw what he thought was the internalized anger you felt finally bursting through the seams of your tightly lidded emotions.

And he wasn’t prepared for it.

Bruce didn’t think you had it in you, or else he would never have made you Robin.

But there you were on the ground, beating a man beyond recognition.

He couldn’t dread this moment because he never saw it coming. Not from you. Never from you.

He hurriedly ripped you off the man, flinging you away with force.

Pulse was present, but weak. Flail chest. It took him only a few seconds to observe the damage you did to the man’s face. It didn’t look good.

“Stay back,” he growled at you when you came close.

He couldn’t look at you. He didn’t want to.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” he heard you whisper.

“Call an ambulance,” he ordered.

There was no other choice. He had to take the fall for you.

“NOW!” he snarled at you again. In the background, you were on the phone, but Bruce’s thoughts were elsewhere, calculating what needs to be done.

You moved-

“Leave. I’ll deal with this.” You needed to go. You couldn’t be here when the ambulance and police arrived.

“Batman-”

“I said leave,” he snapped. He couldn’t even hear your voice.

He waited for the ambulance to come before leaving, making sure they saw him escape. Making sure he would be the one the media would attack.

And while he drove back to the Cave, he decided to give his son a call.

“Bruce?”

“Dick,” he sighed. He knew he had always been unfair to his eldest, giving him so much pressure to perform, pushing him to be his best- and ultimately away. He knew that he never showed it, but he was proud of Dick. He always had been from the very beginning.

“What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t a surprise that Dick picked up immediately that something was wrong. If it wasn’t for the fact that calling him out of the blue was what gave it away, Bruce himself trained Dick.

“She- she crossed the line tonight,” he tried to explain, “Jerome Miller. She attacked him. The damage she’s done to him is irreversible. I suspect he will be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life.”

“Jesus,” Dick breathed from over the line, “Why didn’t you stop her?”

“I wasn’t there,” he grit. He thought he could trust you.

But deep down Bruce knew that it was all his fault after all. Who was he to act so righteous when he was the reason your parents died?

“I don’t know if she’ll talk to me, Bruce,” Dick sighed, “Not about something like this. She’s probably beating herself up over this already.”

“As she should.”

“Bruce.”

“Please,” Bruce asked, “I’m worried. She isn’t herself and I can’t blame her for it, but the chances of her talking to you are much higher than if I were to try.”

“I’ll try,” Dick agreed.

“Report to me after.”

“Bruce, we’ve talked about this,” Dick grumbled, “I am under no obligation to report to you. I’m doing this for her. Not you.”

He was trying not to go back to the man he was before, but sometimes he couldn’t help it.

They’re your children, not your soldiers.

He had to remind himself time and time again. It was easier to be just a father to you as compared to Dick and Jason, yet even then he made slips.

“I know,” he apologised. “Thank you.”

Click.

And then Bruce was alone again.

***

Bruce watched you from the corner of his eye when you came back. He noticed that you had put more effort into dressing up when you left the house that day.

There was a slight bounce to your step and a small smile that played on your lips.

Dick was right after all. There was someone you were seeing.

But no, he couldn’t look into it. In fact, it would be hypocritical of him if he did. Dick had many girlfriends and flings, and Bruce didn’t want to know about any of them. Mainly because Dick was his first, and the thought of a boy he raised maturing and having relationships made him feel confused about parenthood.

Not that many of them lasted too long anyway.

Jason was a little different. While Dick had girls lining up after him all the time, Jason was much more subtle about the girls he liked, and that made Bruce more curious- but not enough to investigate.

He thought about when Barbara had caught Jason looking at her, making him turn red. He wondered if Jason would like you.

A tight squeeze in his chest.

He didn’t let his mind linger there.

Bruce felt obligated to protect you, which tempted him to investigate the boy you were seeing. It could be a trap, it could be someone using you for fame and money, or something even more sinister. Hell, it could be Jason himself after that stunt he pulled off.

But there was no evidence, and Bruce wanted to be a father to you this time instead of Batman the mentor. So Bruce would have to trust you on this one.

***

There was something holding Bruce back from telling everyone the truth about Jason.

And because he is who he is, Bruce knew what it was.

Guilt. He blamed himself for what had happened, and telling others about it meant owning up to his mistakes. Bruce never ran away from his fears and feelings despite what others might think. On the contrary, he held to them very strongly, using them as a motivation to fight head on.

This time, though, he felt more self destructive- the worst he had ever felt since he carried Jason’s corpse from the rubble- and so he tried to delay the inevitable.

But time was running out. He had enough time to wallow in self pity. It was time to pull himself together, and the first step began with Alfred.

The Cave was colder than usual that night, air thin and darker despite the illumination he had provided. Bruce was slumped in his usual wheeled chair, cowl resting on the desk after patrol, the weight of his suit almost crushing him in his weakened mental state.

“Alfred,” Bruce sighed, “Please, take a seat. I have something to tell you.”

“I assume this is about the identity of one criminal who has been terrorizing your daughter?” Alfred retorted, sitting down anyway.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded, “This… This won’t be easy, Alfred. I suggest you prepare for the worst.”

“And the worst being..?”

Bruce wheeled himself closer to the butler, leaning forward. “It’s Jason.”

Alfred merely blinked. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid my ears have caught up to my age. I must have misheard you, because for a moment, I thought you said that Red Hood is Jason.”

“You didn’t mishear me, Alfred. It’s him.”

Bruce saw the confusion in Alfred’s eyes, the frantic search for reason. “Our Jason? Jason Todd?”

“Yes, Alfred.”

And then, Bruce felt it. The pain he had been suffering with for weeks spreading to the man who raised him. Alfred clutched his chest with one hand, the other clenching tightly over the armrest of his chair, his breathing quickened.

“Impossible,” he whispered, “Jason died. How?”

“There was an event regarding The League and Superboy punching reality. I won’t get into details, but I suspect that was what caused the initial resurrection. The restoration, however. We know of someone who has been continuously restored time and time again.”

“Ra’s Al Ghul,” Alfred concluded, “But why? Why on Earth would he restore Jason?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce frowned, “But it is an almost perfect revenge plan. I would like to entertain the idea that he has brainwashed Jason into thinking we are the enemy, but I can’t put it past him to develop a hatred for me. I… betrayed him.”

“Master Bruce, this is not your fault,” Alfred rose to his feet, “If it is indeed Jason, we can still help. I have faith in the boy.”

“Me too, Alfred. Me too.”

Bruce didn’t miss the sob that echoed faintly through the cave when Alfred ascended back up.

***

As if in slow motion, he saw every change of emotion on Dick’s face. The way he blinked once in confusion, the surprise approaching as he widened his eyes, and then his eyebrows stitching together in a deep frown, his lips downturning and nose flaring in anger.

Bruce saw the punch coming, but he did not do anything to counter it. Gladly, he took the right hook Dick gave him, appreciating the sting that radiated from his cheekbone to his jaw.

“How long have you known?” his son shook in anger.

“Dick-”

“HOW LONG, BRUCE?!” Dick roared, fists clenched, voice echoing in the cave.

“Since the night he blew up the warehouse,” Bruce replied.

“Jesus, fuck,” Dick ran his fingers through his hair, “Jesus, Bruce. That was over a month ago.”

“I know.”

“We-” he choked on his words, “We deserved to know.”

“I know.”

“So why the fuck didn’t you say anything?!” he slammed his fists on the desk. Bruce caught a few drops of tears that fell to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce apologised, and meant it. But he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything more.

“You’re sorry?” Dick looked at him with eyes far too cold than he knew, “He was my brother, Bruce. He told me things he never told anyone else. We shared secrets and jokes. We went to the same diner once a week to catch up. He asked for my help and I asked for his. And then he died. Just like that, because you couldn’t keep him on a leash. And now he’s back, and you knew it was him, and you’re just sorry?”

Dick’s eyes were wet and red, and filled with contempt. Bruce couldn’t blame him. He hated himself, too.

“Does she know?” he whispered, “Does she know that the man who attacked her is your son, and is my brother?”

Like always, he pushed the pain away efficiently, logically, objectively.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “I told her this afternoon.”

“And she’s not angry?”

“If she was, she did not show it,” Bruce described, “In fact, she looked… Worried.”

“Of fucking course she would be worried,” he snarled, “She’s worried that she’s going to be irrelevant to you now the dead Robin is back.”

“She’s not,” Bruce growled at that, “She’s not his replacement. She never was.”

“Does she know that, Bruce?” Dick snickered, “Did you finally get over yourself and tell her that? Because the last fucking time I spoke to her, you called her Jason.”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond to that. He was good at smiling at the cameras and making speeches and charming an audience, but he was never good with words, real words that described his true feelings to the ones he cared for the most.

“I’m sorry,” he simply said, now numb to everything throughout years and years of practice. “I promise, I will bring him back. Will you help me?”

“What can I do that you can’t?” Dick scoffed.

“You knew him, Dick,” Bruce said, “You knew him in ways I never did. I can predict his movements, but to accurately guess what his motivations are- you knew him better than I did.”

“Fine,” Dick conceded, “But I’m not forgiving you for this, Bruce. I swear, you’re going to pay for all the secrets you’ve kept from us, be it by my hand or someone else’s.”

***

“Did you know that your daughter went out last night to see a boy while we were patrolling?” Dick brought up.

He was looking at Bruce’s back, as he always was.

Bruce was on the computers, going through hours upon hours of security footage and traffic cams for Red Hood- for Jason.

It was difficult for him to put the two together. Jason had always been his little brother. Young, naive, inexperienced. And now that same person was the leader of the underground.

It was definitely difficult.

“Alfred mentioned she went out, but I didn’t know it was to meet a boy,” Bruce replied without glancing his way.

“Well, she lied to me about it at first,” Dick sank in a chair, looking at his nails. “Got pretty defensive when I brought it up. Even tried to deflect by using Jason against me.”

Dick knew you meant to hurt him with your words, and it worked.

He was definitely surprised that you would stoop that low because he always saw you as a sweet, kind girl.

People change. That’s what happens when you stick with Batman.

But Dick didn’t expect you to change so fast.

“She… used Jason against you?”

Bruce finally turned towards him, the ever constant frown a little bit deeper that moment.

“Yeah,” Dick straightened, “It was the first time she’s ever spoken to me that way.”

“What did she say exactly?”

“That I was distracting myself by using humor as a coping mechanism, and that I should come to terms with the fact that it was my brother who kidnapped and sexually assaulted her,” he repeated bitterly.

“What did you say to her that she responded that way?” Bruce asked.

“I was just making fun of her boyfriend,” Dick shrugged, “Why? Do you think she’s hiding something?”

At first, Dick thought that you were genuinely angry at the both of them because you were right- Jason did kidnap you. Jason did do those things to you. And Jason was supposed to be under both Bruce and Dick’s responsibility.

Dick didn’t blame you for it, because he would have probably been angry if the situation was reversed.

It was one of the mistakes he always made as Robin when Bruce was teaching him how to accurately deduce by reading people. Never assume that someone’s motivations would be the same as your own.

“She hid that she has… someone from me. There must be a reason why.”

“Or she knows how you are and would rather not have your nose in her business, Bruce. She did find out about that tracker you put in her necklace. How did she even react to it?”

Bruce had done the same with both Dick and Jason while they were Robin, though it didn’t come disguised as a pretty, shiny piece of metal.

On the contrary, during Dick’s Robin days, Bruce had hid it behind his third molar while he was unconscious. He only found out after a year, when he was held hostage by a mercenary who wanted to use him to lure Batman. Said mercenary had detected the tracking device and pulled it out along with the tooth.

It made him increasingly more hostile towards Batman and his never ending need for control, but at least it saved him a trip to the dentist.

From what Dick knew, Jason died with his tracker on him.

Bruce had said that it was all done in the name of safety.

But would you tell Jason the same thing now?

“I apologised and never replaced the one Red Hood damaged. I thought that would have been sufficient for her to trust me again.”

Dick let out a bark of laughter at that, but it was void of any humor. “Only you would think that not replacing her damn tracker would make her trust you. No wonder she hasn’t told you anything.”

It was probably best not to mention that you were now also sexually active.

“Do you think she’s hiding something important?” Bruce asked.

“Are you actually asking for my opinion?” Dick smirked, “No, but it’s too soon to tell, anyway. Relax, Bruce. It’s like you forgot what it was like to be young and in love.”

That was obviously a joke. Bruce grew out of his childhood the moment he saw his parents getting killed in that alley.

As for being in love, did Bruce ever allow himself that?

***

“What did you say she called herself?” Nightwing asked softly.

The poor girl was scared out of her mind to the point where Dick found it difficult to extract important information from her ramblings.

Well, that’s what happens when someone makes you kill a person.

It was difficult, so difficult, to face the fact that it was Jason behind all of that.

“I t-think, V,” the witness- Elena- stuttered. “She with him. But try to stop him.”

Behind him, he felt Batman pause. He was walking around the club and analysing evidence while listening to the conversation.

“She tried to stop him? Him as in Red Hood?” Dick frowned.

“Yes,” Elena looked down and rubbed her arms.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but,” Dick tried, “You told me they were partners.”

“Yes, but she try to stop him,” she repeated, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Dick offered a smile, “Thank you very much. You’ve been a huge help.”

“Am I going to prison?” she looked at him with big, wet eyes.

“We’ll make sure you won’t,” Dick assured, “You’ll get the best defense team in Gotham.”

“You can do that?” she asked, hope in her voice.

“It’s the least we could do,” Dick answered, a sad smile playing on his lips.

He’s our responsibility.

“Thank you,” she gave a watery laugh, “Even prison better than with him, I want to be free.”

Dick heard footsteps approaching. As he turned around, Gordon entered the crime scene, followed by his team.

“Of course you’re here first,” he sighed at Batman.

“Gordon.”

“You might have to speak to the police again, okay?” Dick told Elena who was suddenly nervous again by the presence of so many people. “I’ll make sure they know you’re innocent. Gordon is the only one you can trust, okay?”

She nodded, her gaze turning downwards.

“Gordon,” he approached the aging man. He was used to talking with Gordon in Batman’s stead, even when he was Robin, and remembered feeling proud of himself whenever he finished speaking to Gordon regarding cases without Batman having to add anything.

“Nightwing,” he blinked, “It’s been a while.”

“Desperate times calls for desperate backups,” he grinned, “Anyway, the girl. She’s a victim of Victor Ibenescu’s human trafficking trade. Romanian, only thirteen when she was kidnapped. She was forced to shoot Victor by Red Hood.”

“This Red Hood likes his poetic justice,” Gordon snickered.

“It’s still first degree murder, or at least, that’s how the law would make it seem,” Dick reminded him, “But I assure you she’s innocent. Red Hood threatened to kill and rape her if she didn’t shoot.”

That was a lie, on both his part and Elena’s. Judging by the way she averted her eyes and touched her own arm, Dick could tell that she wasn’t telling the whole truth about being threatened by Red Hood- but he also knew that he couldn’t expose her and get into more trouble.

He wanted to let out a tired sigh, but that would give him away in front of Gordon and the other officers. He still needed to maintain his air of hopefulness, and he couldn’t seem like he was troubled by his thoughts.

Time to meet Bruce back at the cave and watch the surveillance footage.

***

“He’s got a partner now,” Dick voiced out his findings, “Since when did Red Hood partner up?”

Bruce’s frown was deep as he stared at the screen.

Dick pursed his lips. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Whether this is Red Hood or Jason?” Bruce hummed, “This definitely does not seem like anything Red Hood would do. He’s always tried to separate himself from others because it furthers his authoritarian agenda. He does not get friendly with people because people are disposable to him.”

“So you think this is Jason, then?” Dick concluded, “Well, Jason never had much of a problem working with others in the past, and he made some friends. He wasn’t the type to be hostile to people.”

“He did have trust issues,” Bruce pointed out, “At the very beginning.”

“Yes, and he kept a lot of things to himself,” Dick agreed, “But he did have friends.”

“Special friends,” Bruce added, “Friends who gained his respect and trust. So the question is- who is this girl and how did she manage to gain his trust?”

“Hey, play it back again,” Dick said, “Those moves.”

Bruce played the security tape, showing the mysterious girl and Red Hood taking down Victor’s men.

“Arnis,” Bruce pointed out.

“It’s a little different.”

“She has incorporated silat in as well. Low stance,” Bruce observed. “She’s skilled, but not polished. It could be anyone.”

There was something familiar about the girl that Dick couldn’t pinpoint. Dick usually had strong intuition- a gut feeling that enabled him to know which facts to focus on during an investigation, or a strong ability to see through people.

But the problem was that it wasn’t solid proof or evidence, something Batman heavily focused on. It was a gut feeling that told him he knew who the girl was.

“Do you think it’s-” he broke off without completing his sentence. There was nothing to back his claims.

“She has no reason or motive to work with Jason,” Bruce shot the idea down, “He’s hurt her. And… She wouldn’t betray me like that.”

“She’s been keeping secrets, Bruce,” Dick reminded, hating the fact that this time it was him who was suspicious.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Because he never would have thought that Jason was capable of torture and murder, either.

Why didn’t he come to me?

“As you clearly pointed out prior to this,” Bruce grit, “She has her reasons as to why she’s keeping secrets. And it is most probably because of me. All of you kept secrets. But this time, I’d like to let her keep hers.”

It was sweet, seeing Bruce that way.

“Is it guilt?” Dick asked.

“It’s repentance.”

Dick hated playing the bad guy.

Because he wasn’t supposed to be. He was the one people looked up to for inspiration, he was the light to Batman’s darkness, he was the smiles and charms and laughter.

He wasn’t the one who would accuse his little sister of fraternizing with the- was Jason the enemy?

Shit. Jason had messed with his senses. Dick’s head was chaotic, his emotions causing him to tense up.

Was he wrong? Was he just like Bruce? Was he jumping to conclusions just because Alfred told him you were out? Should he investigate this Carter you said you were with?

No. I’m not Bruce.

And now, you were looking at him with angry eyes, betrayed and appalled by his accusation.

*** Large.

That was the first thing that came to Dick’s mind when he saw his little brother.

The last time Dick saw him, he was much shorter, and definitely not as bulky.

And the last time Dick saw Jason, he was giving him a hug goodbye, complaining that Dick had messed up his hair.

And now, Jason was aiming a gun at him.

The gunshot didn’t hurt nearly as much as the thought that Jason had indeed shot him. Did Jason hate him that much?

You’re almost as guilty as he is, Jason’s voice echoed in his head.

“Bruce,” he gasped in the comms, “I’m down. They got away.”

“I heard a gunshot,” the deep voice in his ear spoke.

“Yeah, Jason shot my leg,” Dick winced, “Didn’t hit bone but I think it nicked my artery.”

“There are children here,” Batman said, “I was right. He’s sabotaging the Powers’. Gordon should be here soon. You control your bleeding.”

Dick nodded to himself and took a deep breath before plunging his finger into the gunshot wound to keep himself from bleeding out.

***

“...suspects that the crime lord only known as Red Hood and an unidentified female were behind the home invasion. Maria and Joseph Powers were left in a gruesome state according to reports, but their only child Carrie Powers was unharmed. The authorities are not sure what Red Hood’s motive was, but more will be elaborated during Commissioner Gordon’s public address later this afternoon...”

Dick heard you close the door.

“You didn’t come home last night,” he lowered the volume of the television.

“Uh, yeah,” you answered.

Dick looked over at you. You seemed tired, eyes swollen and red from crying, wearing an oversized t-shirt that he didn’t recognize.

“I was at-”

“Carter’s?” he finished your sentence for you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, sitting down next to him on the sofa.

Dick frowned to himself. Your arms were crossed, you were avoiding eye contact, your body was angled away from him.

“You heard about the Powers’?” he turned his gaze towards the television.

“I saw the news on the way here,” you monotoned.

You smelled like a different shampoo. It was familiar, but Dick couldn’t remember where he had smelled it before.

“So you know that-”

“Yes, Jason did it,” you said rigidly.

“Along with-”

“His partner.”

Ah, now he remembered the smell. Jason’s favorite shampoo. He used to make fun of him for choosing one that was called what it was called. He didn’t really care about it, Dick kept his hair soft and fluffy with multiple women’s hair products. He just liked to rile Jason up because he was so defensive about it.

And with that, Dick let out a long, disappointed sigh.

“Bruce is in the cave. I suggest that you think long and hard about what to tell him,” Dick offered you a soft smile, “But no matter what you choose to say, you’ll always be my sister, and I’ll always love you no matter what, okay?”

You gave him a look of shock, and then realised that he had figured it out.

“I’m sorry, Dick,” you lips trembled, your eyes started brimming with tears.

“No, kid. I’m sorry,” he replied, “Go.”

You nodded and left.

Despite being right all along, he didn’t feel any sense of achievement. Dick couldn’t help but partly blame himself. For being so absent, for being neglectful, for being a bad brother.

Dick wasn’t perfect, but like hell would he stop trying to be.

***

For years Bruce had tried to stop feeling guilty for being relieved whenever someone else takes care of a problem he couldn’t solve- especially when it involved murder.

Bruce had tried to take down the Powers for almost a decade, and everytime he got close, there was always another obstacle in the way. It was difficult to expose the rich and powerful without resorting to violence, without resorting to breaking his principles.

So Bruce was ready to stop himself from internally celebrating their deaths. This time, however, he wasn’t as pleased. Because this time, it was Jason who brutally murdered two people. Jason, who was supposed to be under his care and responsibility.

“Bruce?” he heard your timid, small voice from behind him. “I have to tell you something.”

And there it was.

Bruce turned around and looked straight at you, piercing your eyes with his own as he waited on your confession.

A minute passed.

“I’m V,” you struggled to speak, “I’ve been meeting up with Jason for a few months now. I didn’t know he was Red Hood until you told me. But when you did tell me, I chose to confront him and team up with him anyway.”

Bruce didn’t say anything.

“He- he’s not a bad person, Bruce,” you justified, “He’s just really hurt. He needs help.”

You were telling Bruce things he already knew.

“I- I fell in love with him,” you continued, “And I let my feelings cloud my judgement and betrayed your trust. At first I thought that he was onto something, that his… methods were better than yours. And I was angry that you kept secrets from me. But after last night- after what I saw- I couldn’t- I couldn’t stay.”

Bruce clenched his jaw.

He suspected it. Dick suspected it. But for your sake, the both of them chose to put their trust in you. He had tried so hard to change from his old ways. He learned his lesson with both Dick and Jason.

He didn’t want you to go through the same thing they did.

So, he chose to blindly trust you anyway, hoping that he wasn’t right.

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” you were sobbing now, “I’m so sorry. Please, say something.”

After another minute of watching you break down in front of him, Bruce finally spoke up.

“Hang up your colors. You’re no longer my Robin.”

#Red Who #Red Hood x Reader #jason todd x reader

316 notes · View notes

lamen-trash · 3 years ago

Note

19 for Damen/Laurent? 💙💙

19. Forehead kisses (Prompt from this list)

Laurent did not know when he first started noticing it.

Maybe it was a few months after his frequent visits to Damen’s apartment began, or maybe earlier. He couldn’t be sure.

All Laurent knew was that somehow, in the midst of making dinner, watching a movie together, and the inevitable drooping of his eyelids as the night wore on, he magically ended up in a bed every night. Granted, it was the guest bedroom, but Laurent never had any recollection of saying goodnight to Damen or walking to bed. None of that seemed to matter, though, when Laurent was greeted with the sight of Damen cooking breakfast in the morning light, curls askew and smile lethal as ever.

It never bothered him before. That is, until one night, when both men had consumed one too many glasses of wine and made more than a few jokes at the other’s expense.

“Oh, come on, you’re the one who can’t even stay up until midnight and falls asleep on my couch all the time,” Damen laughed, his finger flung out accusingly and his eyes full of glittering mirth. The alcohol brought a sweet flush to his cheeks that made Laurent feel like he was melting on the inside.

His words, however, brought Laurent to a halt. He could only stare as Damen started to laugh harder at the stunned expression painted across his pale features.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Damen teased. “You always complain about being too tired to drive home and your words get all slurred and I have to carry you to bed.”

“I– What?” Laurent could feel a fiery blush start to overtake his features. “You definitely do not.”

“Wow, so you really don’t remember, huh?” Damen’s laughter had died down, but the soft, amused gaze he directed at Laurent stayed on his face.

Laurent had to change the topic. To something. Anything. “Kind of like you don’t remember spilling all those people’s drinks at The Abbey?”

That seemed to do the trick, as drunk indignation twisted Damen’s features. “Hey, I have no recollection of ever–”

And, bingo. Oaf distracted, crisis averted. “Of course you don’t remember – you were hammered!” Laurent laughed. “All of those women kept giving you dirty looks for the rest of the night.”

As Damen tilted his head back for a hearty laugh, Laurent stalwartly ignored the strong column of his throat and the dip of his Adam’s Apple. They had been friends for years, and Damen had never made a move. Laurent needed to get over himself.

Later that night, as their energy faded and the conversation dwindled, Laurent was determined to stay alert. But there was something about the soft leather of Damen’s couch, the warm lighting of the apartment, and the soothing sound of Damen mumbling an old story that had Laurent’s vision fading.

When the feeling of arms folding around his body permeated the haze in Laurent’s mind, he had the wherewithal to mumble “M'awake,” and try to squirm out of Damen’s arms.

It was to no avail, as Damen only tightened his grip before leaving the living room. “Let’s get you to bed,” Damen whispered close to his ear. Laurent could only let out a little noise of acknowledgement in response.

Everything was still hazy when Laurent felt covers being pulled up over him, and then, a pause, like the entire world was waiting for something. Maybe Laurent was waiting, too.

And suddenly: the gentlest feeling of lips against his forehead, like a butterfly wing fluttering against his skin.

Laurent would’ve stopped to think about it more if his mind wasn’t already slipping into unconsciousness the moment the feeling faded. That night, Laurent slept a sound, dreamless sleep.

Waking up the next morning was like emerging from the cold ocean after a long swim. It was as if liquid warmth was bleeding into every one of Laurent’s limbs, making him snuggle down further into the soft bedding.

And yet, when he opened his eyes and remembered the previous night in a sudden rush, all Laurent could feel was panic.

What had Damen meant by that? Was he supposed to remember the kiss? Did Damen kiss him in a platonic way or in a we’ve-been-friends-for-years-but-I-secretly-want-you-like-you-want-me way?

Laurent couldn’t help but bury his face into a pillow and let out a silent scream. Leave it to Damen to do something so innocent yet so loaded, and not think twice about it. It was cruel, really – Damen wasn’t the one with severe mental health issues prone to overthinking and thought loops.

The more Laurent thought about it, the more he could feel himself getting fired up. How dare Damen play with his heart like this? Especially after everything Laurent had told him about his past, how much he had trusted him with…

However, all thoughts of chewing out a too-large Akielon verbally that morning dissipated when Laurent peeked out of the guest room to see a fully-prepared breakfast with pancakes, berries and homemade whip cream.

Fuck, Laurent thought, and his heart instantly swelled in size. Damen knew the key to his heart all too well – sweets. Damn him.

While Laurent filled himself with sugar and carbs and coffee, no mention of last night arose, and Damen continued on like everything was normal. He took Laurent’s prickly morning attitude in stride and even ruffled his blonde hair before going to get dressed.

If you want to play oblivious, two can play at that game, Laurent thought to himself, and chewed thoughtfully.

From that point on, every time Laurent went over to Damen’s house, he made an effort to hold onto the last shreds of consciousness before everything slipped away. Like clockwork, around midnight, Damen would gently pick Laurent up and carry him to bed before tucking him in and kissing his forehead. The feeling was always fleeting, but treasured in Laurent’s bruised heart.

Sometimes, if they had laughed particularly hard together one night, Damen would spend a few extra seconds stroking Laurent’s cheek or hair, before pulling away as if burned.

It was maddening. Not that Damen was treating him tenderly for seemingly no reason – that, Laurent particularly enjoyed – it was that Damen seemed to want to touch him more, yet never did.

“We’ve been friends for years, and nothing until now,” Laurent exclaimed, waving his hands around as if that would solve his problems. “Why doesn’t he just make a move already?”

Aimeric only raised his eyebrow over his freshly-brewed coffee as he took a long sip.

“You’re judging me. Why are you judging me? You know I hate it when you look at me like that,” Laurent deadpanned.

Aimeric let out a little chuckle before shaking his head fondly. “You,” he began, pointing a perfectly-manicured nail in Laurent’s direction. “Have a problem. And Damen does, too. There’s something wrong with you guys.”

“If you could skip out on the insulting me part and move on to the advice segment of this coffee date, I would really appreciate it.”

Laurent couldn’t hold in his begrudging smile when Aimeric wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and raised his voice an octave. “Ooh, we’re on a date right now? Should I delete my dating apps and tell all my boy toys that I’m taken?”

After a firm smack to Aimeric’s arm and a classic over-the-top reaction from the brunette, he sighed. “Listen, I’m only going to say this once. Do with it what you will.”

Laurent nodded, gravely serious.

“Damen’s in love with you,” Aimeric said, and then took a sip of coffee as if those words hadn’t just flipped Laurent’s entire world upside down.

“And before you wipe that stupid look off your face and deny it, you should hear that you’re definitely in love with him, too.”

“Wh–”

“Don’t make me say it again, and don’t deny the truth.”

Laurent’s mouth snapped shut. He chose his next words carefully. “Yes, it is true that after many years of friendship I do feel a certain… fondness for Damen, but that’s not–”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Aimeric exclaimed, and slapped his hand down onto the table. “You guys have been in love with each other for years and we’ve all been waiting for one of you to make a goddamn move. I’m sick of this back and forth ‘Will they, won’t they’ and ‘Oh they’re pining for each other and it’s romantic’ bullshit.”

“Wait–” Laurent felt like his eyes were about to pop out of his head.

“I’m being dead serious when I say you need to make a move as soon as possible or else I will spontaneously combust from lack of attention. All our friends ever want to talk about when you’re not there is how much you and Damen want to bone each other but act like you’re just friends. I told Pallas about a new guy I’m dating the other day and his response was to ask me if I want him as much as Damen clearly wants you. How is one man supposed to live like this?”

“Aimeric, stop–”

“It’s always Damen this, Laurent that. ‘They’re meant for each other,’ blah blah blah. What about my fairytale slowburn friends-to-lovers romance? What about any of us? It can’t be about the It couple all the time.”

“We’re not even a couple!”

“Exactly. That is my point. Get your shit together before we all excommunicate you two from the friend group for being dumbasses.” Laurent could see in Aimeric’s pointed look that his friend was serious.

While Laurent sat in stunned silence, Aimeric regained some of his usual amused nonchalance. “I’m late for my 2:00 meeting.”

With that, Aimeric was up out of his chair and patting Laurent’s shoulder in farewell before breezing out of the coffeeshop door.

Laurent could only finish his coffee quietly, sitting in dazed contemplation of what he was about to do.

That night, Laurent knew he had to bring out the big guns.

“Wow, wine and vodka tonight?” Damen asked upon opening his door, eyeing the alcohol in Laurent’s hands.

“Let’s play a drinking game,” Laurent said in response, a smirk playing around his lips. He didn’t miss the way Damen’s eyes strayed to his mouth.

Hours later, when Damen was thoroughly drunk and laughing way too loudly at Laurent’s insults, Laurent decided to make his move.

“Damen,” Laurent began, waiting until his friend looked up at him with glazed eyes. They were both sitting on the ground in front of the couch, a few candles lit around them. “How long have we been friends?”

“Is this still part of truth or dare?” Damen asked.

“No, it’s just truth now. We each ask a question, and the other person has to answer truthfully. If the other person refuses to answer, they have to take a shot.”

Damen let out an overdramatic whine and let his head fall back against the couch. “No more shots.”

“Then answer truthfully, and we won’t have a problem.” Laurent’s smile was sharp. Too sharp, and he could feel it. Even with the drunkenness running through his veins, Laurent’s nerves were on fire.

“Okay,” Damen said.

“Okay?”

“Yes, I said yes!” Damen laughed, and turned to face Laurent more fully. “You go first.”

Laurent made a show of thinking before starting again: “How long have we been friends?”

Damen’s smile turned dopey. “Hmm. Five years? No, six. Was that just a test?”

“Maybe,” Laurent couldn’t help but be charmed by Damen’s drunken earnestness. “Your turn.”

“How do you get your hair to be so soft?” Damen asked in wonder, reaching out a finger to twirl a golden loc around.

Laurent laughed. “Conditioner.”

“Never tried that,” Damen said thoughtfully, which made Laurent laugh again. Damen, being Damen, joined in, until both men were giggling uncontrollably on the floor for no apparent reason.

It was when their laughter started to die down that Laurent decided to rip the Band-Aid off.

“Are you in love with me?”

Damen’s laughter abruptly cut off. Laurent couldn’t bring himself to meet Damen’s gaze, so he opted to stare down at his crossed legs and fidgeting hands.

Wordlessly, Damen poured himself a shot and downed it in one go. Laurent risked a glance up and was met with Damen’s solemn face, uncharacteristically stoic.

“My turn.” Damen said in a rush. “How long have you been awake when I kiss your forehead at night?”

“A couple months now.” Damen wasn’t meeting his eyes, so Laurent pushed on. “Do you want me?”

Another shot, downed hastily by an increasingly-drunk Damen who still refused to make eye contact.

A shred of irritation slithered into Laurent’s heart. Why wouldn’t Damen just talk to him?

“Do you ever think about it? Us together?” Damen went to pour another shot, but before he could say anything else, Laurent shot to his feet.

“Oh, so you’re just not going to answer me, then? You’re not going to answer any of my questions? How about this: Have you ever thought about fucking me? About me naked underneath you? About us kissing and holding hands and going on dates in public together?”

Damen raised the shot glass to his lips, but Laurent knocked it out of his hand before it reached his mouth. Finally, Damen met Laurent’s gaze, and the panic that had been seizing Laurent’s heart for months seemed to be reflected in his dark irises.

“Stand up and talk to me, idiot, before I leave this apartment and never come back,” Laurent hissed.

Slowly, Damen rose to his feet. “I love you,” Laurent managed to get out, despite his throat closing up with emotion. “And if you don’t love me back, I’m not going to wait around and–”

Between one second and the next, Damen had a strong arm wrapped around Laurent’s waist and was pulling him in, closer and closer until their mouths met.

Laurent could only freeze, everything in his body coming to a halt, as he registered what was happening. Damen was kissing him. He had refused to answer all of his questions, and yet–

“You’re the idiot,” Damen whispered into the scant space in between their lips when he pulled away. “I’ve been in love with you the whole time.”

“But– I– you–” Laurent tried and failed to get a coherent sentence out.

“I thought you were asking all of those questions because you were mad I was carrying you to bed and kissing you goodnight,” Damen laughed. “Granted, I am quite drunk and not thinking straight, but that’s not the point.”

“The point is–” Damen began, but interrupted himself to steal another quick kiss. “I want you more than anything in the world. I’m happy with your friendship if that’s all you’re willing to give, but you need to know I’ve been in love with you for years.”

The room seemed to come into sharper focus, as if every detail in Damen’s apartment had been hiding from Laurent previously.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Laurent could hear the shrill tone in his voice, his incredulity overcoming all reason.

“Laurent,” Damen deadpanned. “I’ve barely dated anyone else the entire time we’ve been friends and I make you food all the time. You’re my emergency contact for everything. Hell, you’re the only one of our friends who has a key to my apartment. Was I not making myself clear enough?”

After a moment of contemplation, Laurent could only laugh.

“What?” Damen asked defensively, as Laurent leaned forward to rest his head against Damen’s shoulder, stifling his giggles in the fabric of Damen’s sweater.

“I just… this whole time?”

“Yes.”

When Laurent pulled back, he was met with the softest look he’d ever seen on Damen’s face. It was almost unbearable. And yet, he could bear it. For Damen, he would.

Laurent leaned in for another kiss. “Six years, huh?”

“Mm-hm,” Damen murmured against his lips.

“I guess we have lots of lost time to make up for,” Laurent smirked, and grabbed Damen’s hand.

“We are both way too drunk to have coordinated sex right now,” Damen warned, and Laurent laughed.

“Not sex,” Laurent said, and took back his spot in front of the couch. “We’re playing the questions game again, and this time you don’t get to evade. I need some answers, starting with a detailed explanation of when exactly you started to like me as more than a friend.”

The wicked yet playful look on Laurent’s face made Damen groan.

This was going to be a long night. Somehow, Damen couldn’t find it within himself to care.

Read this on AO3.

#captive prince #my writing #hi blue thank you so much for requesting this im sorry it took me so long omg #much love forever and always you're the best <3 #ask #i kinda got carried away writing this bc i miss my gf HAH

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dweetwise · 3 years ago

Text

some fluffy adamkate for @neilusgrey because this ship is adorable <3 i used some prompts from this post while writing. it fit them too well!

word count: 3320

Adam X Kate: Turn your face to the sun

“So? What do you think?” Kate asked.

Adam looked around their surroundings. They were attending a folk concert held in Kate’s hometown, and even though it wasn’t Adam’s usual scene, he’d been quick to accept when Kate had invited him.

The sun was shining bright in the sky and nearly everyone was smiling, the sound of music getting louder but nowhere near unbearable as they approached the small stage in the middle of the park. There weren’t as many people as Adam had feared, only a small crowd forming in front of the stage.

“It looks nice,” Adam said. “I’m glad you asked me to come.”

“Of course!” Kate said. “It’s about time we—”

“Kate! Over here!” someone shouted from behind them, effectively interrupting their conversation.

Adam watched as Kate turned around to face a group of people, her face cracking into a brilliant smile once she seemed to recognize them.

“Hey, y’all!” Kate beamed, hugging one of the women. “Long time, no see.”

It was strange to see Kate so in her element. Just walking across the park and to the event area, they’d been stopped several times as people wanted to catch up with Kate and a few even asked for her autograph.

“It’s so good to see you! Where have you been?” one of Kate’s current admirers asked.

“Oh, I did a bit of soul-searching,” Kate explained. “Kinda needed to drop off the grid for a while.”

Adam could tell Kate was struggling with the lie. It had been a couple months since their escape from the Entity and they were only just now getting used to the normalcy of the real world. Standing here, being alive and well and surrounded by happy people with the sun shining down on them was almost too good to be true.

“This is my date, Adam!” Kate introduced him.

But the best thing about the situation was that Adam was here with the most incredible woman he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.

“Nice to meet you,” Adam said, giving a polite nod to the group.

“Likewise!” one of Kate’s friends said. “We’ll leave you to it, but let’s catch up sometime, okay?”

“That sounds lovely!�� Kate agreed, before turning to Adam. “Come on, let’s find a good spot!”

Adam followed Kate closer to the stage, almost transfixed on the way her long dress swayed in the gentle breeze. With her flowy sundress and the daisies in her hair, Kate looked like a personification of summer, and Adam was honored to be allowed to bask in her warmth.

It also reminded Adam how overdressed he was for the occasion. He’d chosen to wear a suffocating button-up and stiff chinos that already felt too warm for the weather. Hopefully he’d manage a few hours in the Pennsylvanian summer.

“You wanna stay farther away from the stage?” Kate asked.

“Yes, please,” Adam said with a grateful smile.

Kate knew how much of an introvert he was and she had never appeared to see it as a big deal. The concert was already out of Adam’s comfort zone, so getting some relative privacy would be very welcome.

They found a spot away from the commotion but with a relatively unobstructed view of the stage and Adam pulled out the picnic blanket he’d packed earlier and spread it over the soft grass. All the while Kate kept looking at him in intrigue, making Adam wonder whether he’d done something wrong.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“You have a really good smile, you know that?” Kate said, making Adam realize he’d been smiling the entire time.

“Oh. Thank you,” Adam said, scratching at his neck self-consciously. “I guess I don’t tend to smile that much. Especially after…”

He didn’t need to explain further. Kate nodded in understanding, knowing they all had their own demons to battle after their capture and subsequent escape from the creature that still haunted their nightmares.

“Let’s make some better memories together,” Kate said with an adorable, soft smile.

Adam felt his face heat up and he merely offered a stiff “yes” as they started unpacking their bags.

They’d never officially decided what this was between them. For what felt like years, they’d been closer than friends but not quite lovers. None of the other survivors had batted an eye when Kate sought comfort in Adam’s arms by the campfire every time the trials became too much. There were jokes about them being a couple, sure, but to this day nothing had actually happened between them. Adam had never wanted to push and regardless, a world of violence and death wasn’t exactly the best setting for romance.

But now they were free and Kate had wasted no time in asking him on a date. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he was certain that it had to mean something.

“I brought snacks!” Kate's triumphant grin snapped Adam out of his thoughts.

Adam watched as she retrieved a small box of strawberries as well as a packet of cookies from her beach bag.

“I wanted to have a picnic but didn’t know what you liked, so…” Kate explained.

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Adam said. “I didn’t realize to bring anything…”

“And I didn’t expect you to!” Kate reassured. “Come on, have some!”

They sat down to enjoy the snacks together, catching up on the brief period of time they’d been apart. Adam had been busy with a pile of paperwork about his disappearance in Japan and Kate had temporarily moved in with her parents. It became clear that neither of them were certain what the future would bring.

“There’s so many opportunities!” Kate said. “We can do whatever we want. The freedom is amazing.”

“It is,” Adam agreed. “But also a little overwhelming.”

He had no idea what he would do or where he would even go. All he knew was that he wanted to be near Kate; she was his rock and no matter what happened, he was sure he’d be okay as long as they were together.

Of course, he couldn’t say that out loud. They weren’t a couple and it was a little too intense to place so much importance on their friendship.

“We’ll figure something out,” Kate said, and just her smile was almost enough to reassure Adam.

They sat together and finished the snacks while enjoying the music, until the crowd seemed to get even more invigorated as people got up to dance. Adam watched a small group form in front of the stage with people twirling, jumping and laughing as they danced to the upbeat music.

"Let's join them!" Kate suggested almost immediately.

Adam shouldn’t have been surprised. Kate’s love for music knew no bounds, and even now she was nearly shaking with the boundless energy she always seemed to possess.

"We can't just leave our things," Adam tried to reason. "You go on, I'll stay here."

"Aw, you can’t get rid of me that easily! I wanna dance with you!” Kate said. “Nobody's gonna take anything.”

"I'm not much of a dancer," Adam protested, abruptly feeling the nervousness start to kick in.

"You'll be fine, hun—I promise!" Kate smiled at him and extended her bracelet-clad hand.

Before the fog had swallowed him all those years ago, Adam would have declined in a heartbeat. But he wanted to believe he had changed. During the last few years, he’d learned he was much more capable than he could have ever imagined—a little dancing surely wouldn’t kill him.

So he grabbed Kate’s hand and let himself be briefly pulled into her world of sunshine and spontaneity.

While they approached the stage, Adam tried his best to learn the choreography by observing people dancing. To his mortification, there didn’t seem to be choreography, all of the dancers seemingly able to effortlessly improvise a professional-looking routine.

By the time they reached their destination, Adam’s hand was sweating where it was holding Kate’s. She didn’t seem to care, only turning to him with a bright smile before settling closer to him in a dance position.

"Don't worry hun, just follow my lead!" Kate said.

Kate started leading him into a dance and Adam followed the best he could. He stared at her feet to try to get the hang of her movements, focusing too hard and completely ignoring the beat—

It was only a matter of time before his foot landed on Kate’s much smaller sandal-covered one.

"Sorry!" Adam apologized, embarrassed over his mistake. “Did I hurt you?”

"Don't worry so much," Kate said. "Look at me and just go with the flow."

Adam lifted his gaze to Kate's face and some of his tension melted away under her familiar smile.

Gradually, he got the hang of it. The song changed but the rhythm of Kate's movements stayed the same, and eventually Adam's clumsy steps got more confident and mirrored the spring in Kate's. He learned to read her ques, changing directions when she did and twirling her around when she wanted to. Kate laughed and giggled while they danced, the smile never leaving her face, like this is what she was made to do.

Adam realized she might not have gotten the chance to dance with anyone before this, not since their escape. Kate was never meant for the dull grey world of the Entity; she was meant for this, sun and music and dancing without a care in the world. And Adam was honored to be able to give it to her.

He lost count of how many songs they danced to. Previously, he might have been embarrassed of letting Kate lead, but any worries about arbitrary gender roles had disappeared during the years where their lives were nothing but survival.

Worrying about the past was the last thing on Adam’s mind as he followed his ray of sunshine into another dance. He was sweating something fierce but he didn't care, absently popping a few buttons on his shirt and rolling up the sleeves to try to cool down. Kate seemingly didn’t tire of dancing, but Adam spotted the redness on her cheeks and the more pronounced breaths she took as they picked up the pace and the exertion started to kick in.

At some point, people started forming a ring in some sort of group dance, and Kate didn’t hesitate to guide them to join in. The choreography was easy to understand this time, Adam effortlessly keeping up as everyone danced in a ring, before partnering up and switching every so often. Even though he stumbled a few times, Adam had always prided himself on being a fast learner.

When Kate twirled herself into being his partner for the finale, Adam found himself laughing. He was having fun.

"See? I knew you'd like it!" Kate said.

“Only you could convince me to do something like this,” Adam said.

Kate laughed with him, the sound radiant and inviting. She was beautiful and so full of light, turning heads even on the makeshift dance floor. He didn’t think he’d ever quite understand what she saw in a nerd like him.

Once the song ended, Kate let out a sigh.

"Whew, I'm beat!" she said.

Adam couldn't agree more. No matter how much he enjoyed the dancing, he was starting to get winded and his shirt was now drenched in sweat.

"Let's go drink some water," Adam suggested.

They returned to their spot and, to Adam's surprise, everything seemed to be exactly the way they left it. He'd completely forgotten about his worries while they danced.

Adam got out his water bottle from his backpack, when Kate's voice interrupted him.

"Aww, no!" Kate said, clearly disappointed when she peered into her bag.

"What's wrong?" Adam asked.

"I didn't close my bottle properly," Kate said, pulling out her wet, empty water bottle. "It's leaked all over."

She showed her bag that contained some now-soaked cookie crumbs and her keys bathing in water.

"I'm so sorry," Adam said. "We should hang it to dry somewhere—"

"It's not a big deal," Kate said with a smile. "It's just gonna smell like soggy cookies for a bit. That's what I get for being a klutz."

Adam's full water bottle felt heavy in his hands.

"Here, have some of mine," he said, extending the item.

"Are you sure?" Kate asked.

"Absolutely," Adam said. "We need to stay hydrated in this weather."

"You're the sweetest," Kate said and Adam felt his face heat up from the compliment.

Kate accepted the bottle, and only took one prim, small sip before holding it out for him.

"Come on, take a proper drink," Adam encouraged. "We’ll split it in half."

Kate gave him a sheepish smile, before tipping her head back and taking big gulps of the beverage, drinking nearly half of the bottle.

"Whew, that was refreshing," Kate said with a happy sigh. "Thanks, doll."

"My pleasure," Adam said.

He followed Kate's lead and emptied the bottle with similar gusto. The water felt heavenly in his dry throat and overheated body.

Afterwards, Adam insisted on setting up Kate's bag to dry in the sun.

"It should dry in no time," Adam said. "It's really hot today. I wish I was dressed for the weather."

"But you look so snazzy," Kate smiled. "Feels like I'm with royalty."

"I don't know about that. You look incredible today. I mean—err, you always do, but..." Adam floundered. "Your dress is beautiful."

"Thank you," Kate said with a shy smile, doing a little twirl. "It's good for dancing."

"I still can't believe you got me to dance," Adam said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Admit it. You had fun back there!” Kate was positively beaming at him.

"I did," Adam admitted. "And I never would have tried it on my own. Thank you."

"Thank you for doing it for me," Kate said. “I know this ain’t your thing, and I didn’t wanna push too hard. But I knew you’d be great, and…”

Kate trailed off, and Adam followed her gaze to an ice cream booth at the foot of the hill.

"Do you want to get ice cream?" Adam asked.

"I was just about to ask!" Kate grinned.

They walked to the kiosk, only standing in a short line as most people were still busy dancing. Adam took some time to browse the list of available flavors while they waited.

"Do you know what you're getting?" Adam asked.

"Not yet—there's so many to choose from!" Kate said, almost as in awe.

Adam hummed in agreement and focused back on the list. He was a little disappointed to not find matcha flavor on the menu, as it was his favorite from his time in Japan. Most of the options looked sickly sweet, and Adam skimmed over the cookie and candy flavors until eventually settling onto pistachio.

He glanced over at Kate who was still staring at the menu. If Adam had to guess, she was choosing between some of the more strange flavors—maybe even thinking about mixing them into a daring combination.

"Okay, I'm done!" Kate said once it was their turn to order. "You go first."

"One pistachio, please," Adam said.

"And for the lady?" the vendor asked.

"Chocolate," Kate said.

Adam turned to look at Kate in surprise.

"I ain't that adventurous with food," Kate explained with a sheepish grin.

After Kate's usual spontaneity and boldness, it was incredibly endearing to find out that she was a picky eater. Adam was suddenly eager for an opportunity to introduce her to Japanese and Jamaican flavors in the future.

"You can't go wrong with the classics," Adam assured.

"Here you go," the vendor said, handing over their orders. "That’s $3 a piece."

Kate started fishing out her wallet, but Adam beat her to it.

"It's on me," Adam said, already paying for their orders. “I owe you for the snacks.”

"Well, ain't you a gentleman," Kate said with a mischievous smirk.

Rather than stay closer to the stage, they returned to their spot to enjoy their ice creams.

"How is it?" Adam asked.

"Love it!" Kate beamed. "Do you wanna try?"

Butterflies danced in Adam's gut when Kate extended the treat to him. He nodded and carefully took a bite out of the ice cream. The chocolate flavor was not as rich as he'd normally like, but the texture was creamy and it didn’t taste too sweet.

"It's really good," Adam said. "Do you want to try mine?"

Kate regarded his green ice cream skeptically.

"Sure!" she eventually decided.

Kate hesitantly tasted the ice cream with the very tip of her tongue, before her face twisted into a grimace and Adam found himself laughing.

"Not for you, huh?" he teased.

"No, sorry, it's…" Kate said. "It tastes weird. Why is it salty?"

"Different strokes, I suppose," Adam smiled, digging back into his strange-tasting dessert.

They ate in companionable silence, watching the music performance and the people dancing to it.

"Thanks for coming with me today," Kate broke the silence.

"Thank you for inviting me," Adam said. "It's not my usual type of event, so I hope I didn't make too much of a fool of myself."

"What are you talking about? If anything, you're too cool for a place like this," Kate said.

"That's definitely not true," Adam protested. "I am not ‘cool’ in the slightest."

"Yeah you are," Kate insisted with a smile. "You're always so calm and polite and know exactly what to do. It feels like I'm just a dumb country girl in the presence of a prince or something."

Adam couldn't believe his ears. All this time, he’d thought Kate was too good for him, and she’d felt the exact same way about him?

"You are anything but dumb, Kate," Adam said. "To be honest, your charisma and talent sometimes overwhelms me. I often wonder what you see in me."

Kate laughed; not a mocking one, but a laugh that told Adam he was being absurd.

"Guess we're both kinda dumb, then," Kate smiled.

Adam returned the smile, feeling immense relief. He now knew that—for some crazy reason—Kate was just as fond of him as he was of her. Neither of them broke eye contact, and for a while they merely looked into each other’s eyes while their ice creams slowly melted.

"Can I kiss you?" Adam found himself asking.

It was barely above a whisper, finally having the courage to ask the words he hadn’t been able to during all these years.

"Thought you'd never ask," Kate said just as softly.

They both leaned into the kiss, and feelings of affection for this woman bloomed in Adam's chest when their lips met. Kate's lips were chilly from the ice cream but there was an underlying warmth in them that spread through Adam's body, like he was basking in the glow of the sun.

Their lips moved slowly against each other’s, hesitant at first and then finding a shared rhythm; just like when they danced together earlier.

When they pulled away, Adam was breathless, but it wasn’t not from a lack of air; it was from everything that was Kate.

"Hmm," Kate said conversationally.

"Hmm?” Adam repeated.

"Guess I don't mind pistachio flavor when it's mixed with Adam flavor," Kate smirked.

Adam threw his head back and laughed, and Kate did too.

They finished their half-melted ice creams while listening to the last songs of the concert. They talked about anything and everything, Adam no longer feeling like he had to hold back or keep up appearances. He placed his hand on Kate's and Kate insisted on trying some more ice cream from his lips.

It was the best date of Adam's life and he couldn't wait to see what their future might bring, knowing that Kate would be right by his side.

#adam francis #kate denson #adamkate #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight

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twilight-love-nochu · 4 years ago

Text

BTS Reaction to neglecting your family while away (Maknae Line)

JIMIN (Park Jimin)

*im going to name the kids here because it’s more understandable than saying Y/S/N as there are two sons in this reaction*

“Okay, everyone in the car!” You shouted while struggling to get every school bag, lunch box as well as your own things that you’d need for work and holding your youngest daughter in your arms. You ushered your 3 kids out of the house and into the car as fast as possible to get them at school on time. You put the things into the trunk while your sons got into the car on their own. You were so thankful they were quite independent already when it came to certain things at 7 and 5 since you also had to take care of your 3 year old. As a Semi-single parent that was very helpful and you couldn’t help but thank God for that.

You hurriedly closed the trunk and went to the backseat of the car to put your daughter in her car seat and checked if your sons put their seatbelts on right. When you were sure they did, you carefully closed the car door and slipped into the driver's seat.

“Done!” You thought while closing your eyes and letting out a sigh. A grin stretched out on your face when you then realized what always followed the hectic morning.

“You know what time it is?” You turned to look at your children in the backseat still grinning and you could see the same thing happening on your children’s faces.

“CARPOOL KARAOKE!!” You heard the voices of your eldest son Adam and your daughter booming inside the small space you were in, even though you weren't entirely that the little one even really knew what was happening. Your 5 year old, Yeonwoo, didn’t say a thing and simply looked through the window. You found that weird because usually he was the one who was most excited about the karaoke session you had almost daily. You shrugged it off and blamed it on him not getting a good night of sleep last night after having a nightmare.

Your husband and you started to do those carpool karaokes ever since your eldest son started kindergarten. One day, your husband and you just put on some music in the car on the way there and sang your hearts out and you saw how excited your son was on the backseat, which surprised you because he would usually be in a bad mood and pouting before going to kindergarten. Seeing that it put your kids in a good mood and woke them up, made them actually excited to go to school and was a great bonding time for your family, Jimin and you decided to make it a tradition.

You were singing songs that were playing on the aux at the top of your lungs with your son and your daughter was also trying her best to sing the songs right but the only voice you didn’t hear was the one from your middle child. So when you arrived to a red light, you turned to him and said: “where missing your beautiful vocals, babe”

“Yeah you need to sing with us to practice for our band, Yeonwoo” Adam added to his brother, which made you chuckle. Yeonwoo was not laughing though. In fact he didn’t react to anything you said and kept looking out of the window. He started to worry you. Usually, even if he was tired, the karaoke would help him wake up and excite him. You sighed but couldn’t do anything in the moment as you had to continue driving again.

You dropped Adam off at his primary school and sent him off with a kiss before making your way to the kindergarten to drop off the other two. Without Adam’s singing, the vibe inside of the car became a little weird though, since you were the only one singing, with your daughter's cute rambling, but you didn’t want to stop and make everything even weirder. Plus, you had a little hope that Yeonwoo would soon give into the singing.

To your dismay, he kept silent until you got to your destination. You brought the too inside and helped them take off their shoes.

“Kissy” you turned to your daughter. She gave you a kiss and skipped inside with the educator.

You then turned back to Yeonwoo who was getting up to go inside, too.

“What a second, kiddo.” You knelt down and made him turn to you but he kept his gaze on his jacket. “Are you okay? If you don’t want to go to kindergarten today, you don’t have to, you know? We can go get some ice cream or go home and sleep some more?” You were never a fan of forcing your kids to go to school. If they really didn’t want to go, there would be a good reason for that.

“I’m okay, mommy. I need to go inside now. See you later.” He said without a lot of enthusiasm in his voice but he nevertheless gave you a kiss and went inside.

You watched him worriedly until he was out of sight and got up with a sigh to make your way to your job.

The whole day long, you couldn’t get your son out of your head. What was wrong with him, today? He was usually so cheerful. Was it maybe his nightmare? That was the only reason he could have for being so down, so that must be it. When he came into your room hiccuping, you asked him if he wanted to talk about it but when he shook his head vigorously, you let it be. Now you wished you had insisted more so that you would know how to help him now.

When you picked your kids back up from school and Yeonwoo was still not his old self, you decided you had to talk to him. So you sat him down with you after dinner and started asking him.

“Kiddo, what has been up with you all day? You look so sad it makes mommy sad too” you told him slightly pouting to lighten the mood a little.

“I already told you this morning that I’m fine, mommy. There’s no need for you to be sad” he stood his ground. You looked at him and decided to change your tactic and ask directly. You sat him down on your lap and asked: “Does it maybe have anything to do with the bad dream you had yesterday?” You felt him tense a little and look look down but he stayed silent.

“Mommy?” He shyly looked back up at you.

“Yes baby?”

“Does…. does daddy hate me?”

What?

To say you were in shock was an understatement. Why would he say that?

“No he doesn’t baby, don’t be silly. Why do you think that?” You asked full of concern. So that’s what his dream was about? No wonder he was that upset.

“Daddy's never here, doesn’t call and when he does, it’s only for a short amount of time. Is it because of me? Does he not like me?” His voice wavered and his eyes filled with tears making you almost cry with him.

“No, honey, no. Daddy loves you very much. He loves us all, so don’t you ever think otherwise. Daddy is just a very busy person, you know? It’s true he’s away a lot but trust me if he could be with us everyday he would.” You could tell he was having a hard time believing you so you did the only thing that would make him believe. You pulled out your cell phone and FaceTimed the man in question.

“ You know what? Let’s call daddy and you’ll see” you felt your son getting anxious on your lap but you were set on sorting this out as soon as possible.

“Hey babe!“ the familiar voice of your husband boomed through your phone.“ I know I haven’t called much lately, I am so sorry. I swear I am trying but I can’t seem to find the time, I’m so sorry“ Jimin started to ramble as soon as he answered. You chuckled. You knew he was trying his best so you didn’t put it against him.

“It’s OK babe, that’s not why I am calling. I’m calling because this little guy here” you pointed the camera at said little guy who now had his head hidden in your shirt ”put the silly idea into his mind that you don’t love him. I tried to tell him that that was not true but I can’t convince him, so maybe you can.” as soon as you said the words you saw your husband‘s face fall.

“Yeonie? Hey look at me kiddo.”You could literally hear the heartbreak in his voice. Your son slowly turned to look at his father on your phone. “Why would you think that?”

“You said that in my dream. You said that you didn’t love me and that was why you 're always away.” He fidgeted with your shirt tears starting to fall from his eyes.

“Yeonie, listen to me. That was just a dream. That was not reality. Trust a bad dream. OK? I love you more than anything else in the world. You along with your siblings and your mother. You are everything to me. Me being away so much has nothing to do with any of you. Because of my job People from everywhere in the world want to see me. And if I wasn’t doing this job I wouldn’t be able to bring back all these awesome toys, would I?” Jimin added playfully. When you heard Yeonwoo giggle for the first time today, you couldn’t help the relieved sigh that left your lips.

“By the way, you won’t believe what awesome toy I found for you this time!” At this point it looked like Yeonwoo had completely forgotten about his nightmare and the tears on his cheeks.

“What is it? What is it?” He bounced up and down on my lap in excitement.

“That’s a surprise” your husband laughed. “You’ll see we’ll have sooo much fun with it.”

“Okay, come home soon daddy!” Your son said slightly disappointed that he had to wait to know what his toy was.

“I will. I miss you very much Bub. And I love you, and you too Y/N.”

“Love and miss you too” your son and you said in unison and ended the call.

“Feel better babe?” You asked the child.

“Yeah. But I want to know what my toy is.” He pouted which made you burst out laughing relieved that your son was back to normal.

V (Kim Taehyung)

Taehyung’s biggest dream next to becoming an idol was to found a family. Have a beautiful wife and have a lot of children with her. Everyone knew that, it was pretty clear when you saw the way he acted with children. Each time he would see people with their children in the streets or when he played with his younger relatives his desire to finally achieve that dream would get bigger and he would get more and more impatient to get there.

He would most likely make a great father too. He always had his father as an example and wanted to be just like him: an amazing father to his kids, who didn’t miss a step of them growing up, who was always there when they needed it and did his best to give them the world.

When he met you, he knew instantly that he was a step closer to his dream. He made it his mission to make you fall in love with him -which happens pretty quickly considering his outstanding looks and charming personality. Fast forward 3 long years later he popped out the question and you two got married. Taehyung was the happiest person alive at this point. Not only did he achieve half of his dream but he was married to the most wonderful person he had ever met. But something was missing for him to be completely satisfied.

So he didn’t waste any time and you two started trying for a baby. And after 3 even longer months of trying and desperation you finally saw the two bars on your pregnancy test. You stayed frozen on the toilet trying to process the information. You were pregnant. You were going to be a mother. Happiness and relief washed over you.

But your reaction was nothing against your husband‘s reaction.

You got out of the bathroom and into your bedroom where Taehyung was pacing back and forth from one end to the other obviously anxious over the results of the test. He was so caught up in his thought that he didn’t even realize you were standing in the room until you called out his name. As soon as he saw you he rushed to where you stood and asked what the results were. You didn’t trust your voice so you settled with just showing him the test in your hand. He looked at it and after a few seconds he looked back up at you in disbelief. “Does...does it mean you’re...you’re…” he was choking up and couldn’t form a correct sentence in fear that he understood it wrong and it was yet again a failed attempt. That was until you nodded your head with a soft smile and tears starting to brim your eyes.

In the next moment Taehyung fell to his knees in front of you and sobs ripped through the quiet room. He was so happy. Pure happiness. After so many years he finally did it. He had gotten everything he had ever wanted in his life. And that was the moment he realized it.

“You’re going to be a dad, Tae.” You said softly to him as he hugged your belly while he whispered sweet promises of a good life to his chilled growing in your belly.

Over the next 9 months Tae was extra protective of you, he was not going to let anything happen to you or your child. He’d scold you every time he saw you do some kind of effort - potentially dangerous or not -, he’d do most of the chores that you usually did even though you assured him over and over again that you could do it, he’d accept every moody attitude that you had and buy everything you needed for your cravings and even try the weird dishes with you, although that was just because for his curiosity. He even renovated one of your spare rooms into a newborn room with the other bang tan boys without you knowing. You were kind of upset about the fact that he didn’t let you help but at the same time you were quite happy with the result. The room looked dreamy.

Taehyung even assisted to the birth of your beautiful baby girl and was the first one to hold the new main character of your life. Later that night he held her tight and watched her sleep and you also asleep in the bed next to him and realized that this was the start of the most beautiful moments in his life.

And that’s how it was for the first few months. While balancing his work life and his private life he tried to spend every moment he had with her and you and he did a great job at it as he did not miss one of her firsts.

That was until the impossible happened.

A world Tour.

Over the past few months Tae had almost forgotten that he was not only Kim Taehyung but also BTS’s V and that V also had responsibilities.

Now Taehyung obviously loved tour. He did. He loved it at any other moment that now. Of all the other times it could have happened, it had to happen during the most important time of parenting. He knew he was going to miss a lot which visibly broke his heart. You saw that and tried lifting up his mood by reassuring him that you were going to call each other as much as possible.

But that promise was harder to keep that you had thought. Of course you two tried to talk everyday but a lot of factors were playing against it. Schedules, time difference, exhaustion, flights… it just wasn’t working.

Your daughter’s first birthday was coming up soon and Tae was still on tour. You knew that he would never forgive himself if he missed such an important day with her and you were worried that you two would not be able to call each other again on that day. So you came up with a solution.

You were going to go to wherever he was on that day. You planned everything and made arrangements with his manager to see if it would be alright, which luckily it was.

That‘s how you found yourself 5 days later in the airport on your way to Germany to surprise your man with your daughter.

Your phone was going off for the third time this morning and it was Taehyung again. He was trying to reach you to talk to your daughter since today was her birthday and you felt bad for not answering but you knew you had a bigger surprise to make up for it.

And you were a little relieved when you went into the plane and had to turn your phone off for the flight as you didn’t have to go through the temptation to answer your husband’s calls.

The plane took off and you looked anxiously at the 1 year old on your lap waiting for her to start crying but to your surprise she was fast asleep. You sighed in relief and decided to take an example on your girl and took a nap, too.

Several hours and only one tantrum from your daughter later you arrived in Berlin and found the boys‘ manager who was here to pick you up.

„Did you have a good flight, Y/N“ Sejin said while hugging you and then pinching the cheek of the sleeping girl in your arms.

„Long but okay, thank you.” You replied. Sejin was like an older brother to you by now so it was nice to see him again.

He took your luggage and led you to the car to take you to the rehearsal place the boys were currently at. You had to say that you were kind of nervous after not answering his calls but you were more excited to see his reaction and to see him. You arrived in the blink of an eye and you got out of the car.

“They’re practicing right now, let me take you there.” Sejin told you as you got out of the car.

You ran a hand through your hand and took a deep breath before following the tall man into the practice room, your daughter in your arms just starting to wake up.

The familiar sound of ‘Black Swan’ got louder and louder in your ears and soon enough you saw your husband and his 6 brothers dancing their hearts out with their backs to you.

Your heart was pounding in excitement but you tried to contain it and not run up to the love of your life right then as you didn’t want to disturb their dance practice.

The music came to an end and all the boys fell to the floor in exhaustion and you couldn’t help but worry about if they were getting enough sleep. Tour was tiring as it was so pair that with the boy’s perfectionism, your worries were definitely not for nothing.

You were caught up in your thoughts when your daughter started babbling incomprehensible words and when you lifted your gaze back up to look at the boys seven pairs of eyes were looking back at you in pure surprise. ‘Way to ruin the surprise’ you thought to yourself

“Surprise!” You said sheepishly with a grin on your face.

Taehyung was the first to stand to his feet. “Is this real or is the exhaustion making me hallucinate?” You giggled as you saw him Blick in disbelief.

“No hallucination, babe. I couldn’t let you miss Y/D/N’s first birthday.” You reassured him and in the next moment he was sprinting over to you two.

“Y/D/N!!! My princess Daddy missed you so so much!” But as he reached to take her in his arms, she did the unthinkable. She flinched away and hid in the crook of your neck.

Oh no.

You could see the exact moment Taehyung’s heart broke. He dropped his arms slowly and his smile did the same thing “ She-“ he gulped “ Does she not remember me?”

“She’s just sleepy” you laughed nervously “she just woke up. You know how she is when she wakes up.” You tried to calm him down but you both now that was not the reason for her behavior. Let’s face it. She just turned one and her father had been away for a few months. You honestly couldn’t expect her to remember him. At least not right away.

By now the rest of the boys were also beside you watching the scene unfold in front of them. Tae took a deep breath and tried reaching for her again. “ Princess it’s me, your Appa.” He said softly, partly to not scare her away but also because he was sure he would break down if he spoke any louder. But the tears came anyway when she shook her arms out of his gentle grip and started to cry.

You didn’t know what to do. How do you make your child remember their father? You racked your brain for something while the boy tried to comfort your husband. Screw it, you told yourself as you resolved to just talking to her.

“Baby, will you look at mommy” you cooed. When she looked at you hiccuping you were relieved at the small win. “ Look over there! It’s your Appa” you said overly enthusiastically but she wouldn’t look. “Princess you love Appa, don’t you remember?” She looked up at you again at your words a little confused but interested and you could see Tae’s desperate look from the corner of your eyes. “Yes! You don’t remember talking to him on the phone? He always sings to you.” And that’s when it hit you. “Tae! Sing!” The confused look on his face mirror the one your daughter made earlier but when he saw your encouraging smile he started to sing.

His beautiful deep voice filled the room as he sang your daughter’s favorite song and for a moment you just stood there and took in how nice it felt to be back with Tae and be able to here his voice in real life.

And then you looked at your daughter anxiously. Out of a sudden she’d turned her head to look at her father. Did she recognize him?

“Appa?” She said in a small voice and relief washed over you and you could tell the same happened to your husband.

“Yes. Yes Princess, it’s Appa.” He said eyes slightly moist as he took a tentative step toward you.

That’s when your daughter’s face finally broke into a big smile. “Appa!” She shouted, making grabby hands towards him. Sighing in relief Tae took her in his arms and hugged her tight, a few tears now rolling down his cheeks. “I missed you so much my little Princess. Happy birthday.” He whispered to the now excited bundle of happiness in his arms and planted a few kisses across her face, making her giggle.

You reached up and wiped the tears that were resting on Taehyung’s cheeks away and he turned to you. “Hi” he said and you giggled “Hey.”

“Thank you for doing this.” He pulled you in for a family hug.

Suddenly you heard a voice from behind Taehyung. “ I’m not trying to ruin your moment but Y/N did you maybe bring a cake? I haven’t had any sugar in way too long.” Jungkook pouted and everyone in the room bursted into laughter.

Jungkook (Jeon Jeongguk)

“Whatever. I have to go.” He ended the call before you could get another word in.

Were you really being too clingy? It’s not like it was the first time you had to go through this type of situation. You two had been separated for far longer than this time so why were you like this?

“Mom are you okay?” You suddenly heard a voice at your bedroom door. You looked up to see your son watching you with worried eyes.

“Yeah I’m okay.” You mustered up a smile. “Why do you ask.”

“Because you’re crying.” He said his frown getting deeper. Immediately your hand went to your face and sure enough tears were streaming down your face.

“O-oh” you tried to dry them as fast as possible “I’m okay, puppy. Don’t worry.” You replied with a soft smile but he didn’t seem to believe you as he came in, took a seat next to you on the bed and pulled you in for a hug.

Naturally your tears started falling freely when you realized your son’s hug felt almost the same as Jungkook’s which only made you miss him more. He was 16 now and definitely resembled what his father looked at the same age.

“Mom, please tell me what’s wrong.” He asked again. You didn’t want to tell him because you didn’t want him to worry about you but maybe not telling him would only make him worry more you pondered. The sobs ripping through you wouldn’t let you speak even if you wanted to anyway.

“Is it dad?” Y/S/N asked tentatively. Oh fish were you really that obvious? Finally calming down a bit you pulled away and looked at your son.

“You got me.” You chuckled, wiping at your tears. “I’ve just been missing your father a little more than usual lately. It’s silly. Really Y/S/N, don’t mind me.”

He didn’t let up though. “ You have every right to miss him mom. I mean when was the last time he’s even called. Seems like he’s forgotten he has a family here.” The scowl on his face changed from worried to angry at the thought of it. Slight panic settled inside of you. You couldn’t let him be mad at his father because of you.

“Don’t say that, pup. You know your dad loves us more than anything. He is just really busy right now. I’m sure he tries to call as often as he can.” You reasoned partly trying to convince yourself.

“Right but then he argues with you when he does call?” You froze. Had heard you two fight? “Being busy is not a reason for treating you like this, mom. You’ve been nothing but a loving wife and an amazing mother. When he’s not here you take care of us and the house all on your own while he’s having fun all around the world.” You could hear the concern and disappointment in his voice which broke your heart.

A sigh left your mouth. “Y/S/N look at me.” You waited until his eyes met yours before continuing. “I’m fine, okay? Your father and I are fine. Yes we did fight but that doesn’t mean anything. What couple doesn’t fight, hm? But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love us or appreciate me. I probably wouldn’t have been crying if I hadn’t been stressed with work and tired, so it’s not all your dad’s fault.” You forced a smile to convince him. It didn’t seem to work so you added “In fact, I’ll take a nap now and when I wake up all be completely alright again.” You said beaming.

“Alright” he said rolling his eyes but a small bunny smile on his lips “But if dad makes you sad again I won’t forgive him.” He added as he stood up from your bed to make his way outside.

“Look at you, protecting your mother.” You teased “My baby boy is all grown up” you wiped at a fake tear.”

“Whatever.” Your son laughed with a slight blush on his cheeks as he walked out of your room.

“I love you!” You said before he shut the door completely and you heard him shout it back from the hallway.

You could always count on your children to make you feel better, you thought to yourself as you lied back down on your bed. You weren’t lying when you said that you were tired because of work so you decided to actually take a nap.

In his room Y/S/N couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation with you. He knew that you were defending his father because you loved your husband and because you wanted to protect him from any problems between them two but he also knew that his father was in fact neglecting his family - be it on purpose or not - and that it was taking a toll on you. He could let his father get away with that. What kind of son would he be if he did?

So he took out his phone and called the man in question and to his surprise he did actually answer.

“Hey kid. Can I call you back later? I’m in the middle of practice right now” the familiar voice in the end of the line said making him roll his eyes. Typical he thought to himself.

“No, actually. Because I know you are going to forget and not call and this is kind of urgent.” He said before his father could end the call.

“Urgent? Did something happen?” He could hear the slight panic in Jungkook’s voice.

“Yes. Your argument with mom happened.” The worry on his dad’s face quickly changed to disinterest to which his anger grew.

“Y/S/N don’t mind it. This has nothing to do with you. Your mom and I are fine.” Y/S/N could tell that his father was about to end the call.

Wow is he serious? How could he be so insensitive after hurting her like that?

“You might be fine but she is not, dad” at this point he wasn’t even trying to hide the anger in his voice. “Mom does so much and you take her for granted.”

Jungkook could hear how affected his son was and that was definitely not his intention. But he really had to go back to practice right now so he tried to calm him down as fast as possible “ Buddy listen-”

“No you listen to me, Dad” his son’s dedication surprised him “When you’re not here, Mom has to balance work, taking care of the work, taking care of us and she does it without ever complaining. Even when it gets hard and she misses you she keeps to herself to not upset us and to be strong for us because we miss you too. But then when she needs you, just to talk to you, for you to make her feel better and to give her strength to go through all of this you snap at her and make her cry?” At this point your son was getting a little emotional.

It is only when Jungkook heard those words that he forgot all about practice and started to realize what he was doing “W-wait what? She cried?”

He didn’t know? Your son thought to himself. He thought he knew he made you cry and just didn’t care, that’s why he was so mad.

“I thought you knew.” He saw his father frantically shake his head on the screen of his phone.

“I would have never ended that call knowing she was crying, Y/S/N. If I knew I had upset her that much I would have talked it out with her.” Although his anger died down significantly the 16-years-old was still quite mad at his father because no matter if he knew it or not he made you upset. “Is she okay? Is she still crying?” Okay so he does care. Good to know.

“She’s fine now. I comforted her.” Even though that is supposed to be your job. He wanted to add but decided against it because he could see that his father genuinely felt bad. “I think she just misses you a lot, Dad. You’ve been gone for months and when’s the last time you called?”

Jungkook knew he hadn’t been the best husband and father for the past months and the guilt fell on him like a brick. “Let me talk to her.”

“She’s taking a nap right now. She has been overwhelmed with work for the past weeks.” Your son shook his head.

“She has?” Jungkook ran his hand through his locks in frustration for not knowing “Gosh I’m such a fuckup.” He frowned.

“Yes but your lucky Mom loves you. She kept defending your actions earlier even though you’ve obviously been an asshole to her.” Jungkook was so absorbed by the thought of him not deserving you that he didn’t even notice his son insulting him.

“Y/S/N please tell me when your mom wakes up. I need to talk to her as soon as possible but I don’t want to wake her up. She probably really needs the sleep.” He said and his son nodded. Jungkook was set on making things better with you. “Thank you. And I love you. And I love your mom. Please don’t ever doubt that.” Jungkook said with the most serious look on his face. The last thing he wanted was for his son to question his father’s feelings for his mom.

“I know. That’s why I called. I know you will make it better.” He finally smiled at his father and his father mirrored it.

They said their goodbyes and Jungkook was left to find a worthy apology.

Tags: @eviardashian

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onechicago-upsteadrhekker · 4 years ago

Text

the trouble with wanting (is i want you) - part two

Friends!!!!! I’m here! I’m back!

I can’t apologize enough for the long wait! It certainly wasn’t intentional, but alas that is the life of a college student and unfortunately school comes before upstead as much as I wish it didn’t!

I hope part two gives you all the feels and makes up for the long absence, however, I do have something to share with you that may make you want to kill.

Part two turned into part three...

So, SURPRISE! This isn’t a two-shot; it will definitely be a three part story and I am happy to say that part three is written (mostly, I have to tweak a few things) so that will be up sometime next week depending on my school schedule.

Thank you again for your patience and I sincerely hope that you enjoy this chapter that contains no real plot, a lot of fluff and mutual pining!

As always, let me know what you think in the comments!

Tagging: @imjustwritingg, @anniesardors, @thetwit, @angelsjedi, @chichichicken, @carissalizz, @maya-asturias

Let me know if you want to be added to this list for part three!

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The next few days are filled with mandatory walking sessions, pain meds every four to six hours and Jay’s smiling face. He was the only reason why she wasn’t absolutely losing it because while she despised hospital stays in general, hospital stays in another city filled with people she didn’t know were downright insufferable.

But he’d made it go from something akin to glorified torture to slightly tolerable.

The bullet wound was starting to heal and the incision from where they’d had to remove her spleen was looking great according to the nurses and everything seemed to be on the right track healing wise, but anything regarding this thing that she and Jay had going on? She had no idea.

One would think getting shot in a different city, causing one partner to literally drop everything and come rushing to the other partner’s side would end in heartfelt confessions and relationships born at hospital bedsides.

But that’s not what happened, and Hailey was seriously starting to wonder if she and Jay were ever going to be on the same page. Or at least read the page aloud because she was fairly certain he felt the same way about her that she felt about him.

Because just partners don’t fly eight-hundred miles to be by your side even if you are hurt.

Right?

And it didn’t help that he was there with her almost twenty-four seven, giving her no time alone to process what he was telling her without words because before this, it had just been subtle glances and warm smiles, teasing words and affectionate eyes.

But this. Flying eight-hundred miles. It was tangible and real, and she couldn’t quite believe it was really actually happening, but then he was there, bringing her her favorite foods from restaurants she’d found during her time in New York and barely going back to her hotel room for sleep, staying by her side to keep her company and catch her up on five weeks’ worth of Intelligence news.

He was there for every lap around the hospital floor and every dressing change. He was there to shoo out the nurses when they were starting to get on her nerves and he was there, rubbing her hand softly when the pain of her bruised ribs made it hard to breathe.

And then there was the way she was constantly being referred to as ‘Jay’s wife’ instead of her own name much like when she was back in grade school and her teachers would call her ‘Sam’s little sister’.

He’d made quite the impression on the nurses and for some reason neither she nor Jay had set the record straight on the actual status of their relationship since that first day when he was mistaken as her husband.

(It was probably the same reason that they hadn’t talked about what Jay flying to New York meant. And to be honest, Hailey was sort of hoping that Jay would set the record straight on their relationship, if only to let her know where they stood.)

And she definitely wasn’t going to acknowledge the dangerous little thrill she got from hearing herself referenced that way or think about what it would be like for real. Nope, not a chance or she might never come back down to reality after having narcotic-induced dreams of three little words, ‘I do’s’, freckled little faces and laughing green eyes.

But then it’s so close, she can almost taste it and it should scare her, but it doesn’t.

Because she can feel it in the way he grins at her and in the way he tells her goodnight at the end of a long day of keeping her company. It’s in the way his arm brushes hers when he’s helping her sit or stand and it’s in the way his eyes hold hers for far longer than he should; his green eyes swimming with hints of the things she dreams.

But until she hears it. Until one of them gathers the courage to actually say the words and put a name to what they already know and feel, then she’s going to wait and guard those dreams carefully because she knows deep in her heart that when they return to Chicago, it will have either worked out or it won’t at all.

She’s not sure exactly when the pieces will fall into place or if they’ll even fit together but she knows they are at the point of no return. And honestly, that scares her the most because no matter what happens, it will always be Jay for her.

Because he was her home, and he had a place in her heart no one else could ever have and that terrified her because she knows that she’ll never get over him if for some reason it doesn’t work out between them.

She tries not to think like that because she’s pretty sure what she’s seen in his eyes is something that looks a lot like love, but it’s hard to be totally optimistic when it seems like the universe is always keeping them not necessarily apart, but not really together. At least not in the way she’s pretty sure both of them want.

So, she sits in her hospital bed, watching him laugh at her attempts to renegotiate her discharge date with the nurses and listens to him chatter about what Will’s been up to and how much he hated being tossed between Kevin, Kim, Adam and Vanessa while she’d been gone even if he liked working with each of them.

They’d been flying crooked he told her and that her not being there threw them all off so he’d be happy when he could take her back home and so would everyone else. In fact, they’d told her as much when Kim had facetimed Jay the day after he’d arrived in New York to get proof of life and see for themselves that she was truly going to be okay.

It was sweet and nice, and it made her realize how much she really did miss her team turned family even if she already felt like she was home just because Jay was beside her.

He was beside her and he was there with her and every time he looked at her over the beeping of the heart monitor she was hooked up to, everything else faded from view. The facetime calls with their friends, the friendly nurses checking up on her every few hours, the general hustle and bustle of hospital life happening outside her room.

It was just them and she’d be lying if she wasn’t looking forward to her discharge date for reasons other than just being out of the hospital because she knew then, she and Jay would truly be alone stuck in a hotel room in a city that neither one of them knew.

And that, she knew, would be the true test.

On the morning of the third day she’d been in the hospital, Hailey was given the news that she’d be released by that afternoon. If she was physically capable, she’d be jumping for joy but because of the dozen stitches in her side, she’d had to settle for celebrating internally.

Moving was still slow-going and she still felt overly tired far too early in the day, but she was confident that a night in her own bed (or at least the bed she’d been sleeping in for the past several weeks) would do her a world of good.

And she wasn’t going to think about how Jay being potentially next to her would probably make her sleep better than she’d ever had.

She didn’t know exactly where Jay had been disappearing to when he’d left the hospital at night, but she’d given him the key to her hotel room and he always came back looking well-rested so she felt safe assuming he was sleeping in the same queen bed she’d been occupying for the past five weeks.

Hailey wasn’t quite sure what would happen tonight when it was time for him to go to bed, but she wondered if this was the day they were going to finally get it right, nestled under the bed covers, whispering dreams and promises, her side aching but her heart so full.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Her gaze flicked up to Jay who had entered the room and was walking towards her, his hands already reaching out to help her pull on her coat. Hailey looked up at him as he focused his gaze on putting her left arm carefully through the sleeve of her jacket.

She wasn’t sure if a person could have reversed déjà vu, but the action brought her right back to another hospital room in a different city when she was still reeling from the panic she’d felt surrounding Jay’s terrifying brush with death.

When she’d helped him pull his familiar, worn black jacket over his sling right before she almost told him she loved him.

And now here they were again, except this time it was him helping her and this time she knew they weren’t going home without having the conversation they should have had then.

“Thanks,” She murmured softly, trying to ignore the way her heart raced when he briefly squeezed her hand.

Hailey gingerly sat down on the side of the bed, already worn out and sore from the morning’s activities of getting ready to leave.

“I called a taxi. It should be here any minute,” He grabbed her duffle and sat it beside her, “You sign the discharge papers?”

“Yes, thank God,” She muttered accepting the pair of Sperry’s Jay was handing her.

He chuckled softly, “You are so impatient.”

She shot him a look, “I’m sorry. And who was the one practically begging me to spring him from the hospital the minute he was awake and talking?”

He had the wisdom to look sheepish, but he couldn’t hide the wide smile threatening to take over. Clearly, they were both happy to be leaving the hospital room behind.

As Jay busied himself with packing the last few items into the duffle he’d brought Hailey the day he’d arrived in New York, he can’t help but watch her. She’s moving slowly, but she seems pretty alert for someone who got shot and had relatively serious surgery only four days ago.

Her eyes are bright if not tired and her hair is haphazardly thrown up in her signature high pony, but Jay still thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world and he almost tells her just that.

His mouth is open, forming the words when she turns to him after sliding on her shoes, catching his gaze with eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

And he thinks this is why he can never tell her how he feels. She’s always taking the words away with a flash of blue and a dash of blonde because he wants his future to look like her so badly, it terrifies him. And even when he does finally find the words, he knows he will never be able to tell her with words just how much she means to him.

His lips quirk and he shakes his head, turning his attention back to the duffle to zip it up before nodding towards the open door of her hospital room, “No reason. You ready to go?”

For a second, he thinks she’s going to push, and they are going to have the conversation they need to have right here and now, but then she doesn’t and some part of him feels disappointed that they are making themselves wait once again.

He’s not even entirely sure why because nothing is holding them back now. Not really. They are finally both in the same city with no kidnappings, rigged elections or anything else threatening to tear them apart and yet, they are still walking that very fine line of partners and best friends to something openly affectionate and loving and real.

It’s almost too perfect because while he rushed here in a state of panic, not knowing what he would find, Hailey, for the most part was okay and now they were stuck here with basically nothing to do but wait till she could fly without risk of infection or complications from surgery.

He’s not sure if he should be worried, waiting for the other shoe to drop or thrilled that the universe seems to be giving them a hint that it was finally time to take that leap of faith from partners and best friends to something more.

“Hailey, you are clearly in pain.”

After the short taxi ride from the hospital, they were finally in the hotel room and now firmly engaged in a battle of wills.

Hailey was currently giving him a glare that reminded him of the way she would silently warn him from across the bullpen to not do something he might regret or when they were down to the last couple of fries during a long stakeout and he was reaching for them.

Generally, he didn’t win the fights when she wore that look but today, he was determined to stand his ground.

“Jay,” It was practically whined and while he understood her reluctance to take the pain meds she’d been prescribed, he couldn’t stand watching her in pain.

In the few times that Hailey’s been injured during their partnership, it hadn’t been too serious, and she usually had a good attitude about doing what she needed to do to recover. So, seeing her like this, pale and tired and just not her normal, spunky self, broke his heart and he wanted to do everything in his power to fix it.

Starting with the meds she’s determined not to take.

He was happy to at least see the trait that was so undeniably Hailey in her eyes because otherwise, she looked like a lifeless shell of the badass detective he knows she is. The oversized pillows she was propped against makes her seem so tiny and she almost blended in with the sheets she was so white.

If he was being honest, she was starting to look worse than she did when she was in the hospital and that definitely concerned him enough to possibly make him take her right back there or at least call Will for his opinion.

Sighing, he uncrosses his arms to move from where he’s been standing a few feet away from the end of the bed holding the prescription bag in a clenched fist.

Her eyes track his movements as he comes to gingerly sit down at the edge of the bed, leaning over on his forearm to look at her closely, “Hailey,” He shakes his head, “Please just take them. At least so you can get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

For a second, he thinks that she’s going to keep fighting him, but then he sees the weak mask she’d had in place slip, the dull look of pain and exhaustion becoming clearly present in her eyes.

“Okay, fine,” She sighs out wearily, and he’s a little surprised that she conceded that quickly even if he knew he’d already won, but then she cocks her head slightly, “What do I get in return?”

Yeah, he didn’t think he’d won that easily.

Jay pushes the flirty and slightly suggestive response that instantly pops into his head to the back of his mind. There would be plenty of time for that later, or at least he desperately hopes so because he knows that now is not the time to start anything of that nature.

When he tells Hailey what she deserves to hear, he wants her feeling halfway decent and looking healthier than she does right now.

If they were in Chicago, he would bribe her with Bartoli’s, but they weren’t. They are in New York and she’s already made it quite clear that the pizza here is a tragedy, so he doesn’t think she’d want that particular food even if he could find a copy-cat deep-dish place.

So, he goes for the next best thing, “What about some Greek? It probably won’t be anything like Greek Islands, but I’m sure I can find a decent place. I could grab you some Pastichio. What do you say?”

The way her eyebrows furrow and her bottom lip sticks out adorably makes him want to kiss the pout away, but he doesn’t.

She shakes her head, “I don’t want Greek.”

Jay bites his lip briefly and refrains from making a comment on the childish tone of her voice as he regards her carefully for a quiet second.

He would never admit it, but he knows he’s a much worse patient when their positions are reversed so he’s more than willing to put up with her stubbornness because he knows it’s just a way to cope with the pain.

And besides, he loves her. He would do whatever he could to make her feel better.

“I’ll get you whatever you want as long as you take your medicine, so why don’t you tell me what it is you’d like to have,” He pushes himself up off his forearm to sit upright, but he still holds her gaze.

She sighs carefully, picking at the covers before answering him, “A Snickers bar.”

Jay raises his brows.

In the years he has known her, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her eat a candy bar. She could down a piece of chocolate cake at an event, or the random chip bag she’d found during a stakeout, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her eat the overly processed candy bar before.

“You like Snickers bars?” He can’t help the slightly disgusted tone of his words.

Hailey’s expression instantly morphs into a defensive one, “A girl can have guilty pleasures, and this just so happens to be mine. Now, you said you’ll get me anything if I take my medicine, so you’re lucky it’s not something like a new gun. Or a car.”

Jay rolls his eyes and Hailey desperately wants to swat him but she’s already in a significant amount of pain so she doesn’t think that would be the wisest decision.

“Relax, I will get you your Snickers bar. I promised, didn’t I?” He smirks a little as he moves off the bed to grab his coat that’s thrown over the back of the desk chair, “I just can’t believe I didn’t know you liked candy bars.”

Shrugging a little, she tries not to wince at the pain that small movement caused her, “I don’t indulge in them much; only when I’m not feeling good or if there’s literally nothing else to eat.”

After gathering up his wallet and phone, Jay stops in the middle of the room to regard her for another moment. He shakes his head, “What else don’t I know about you, Hailey Upton?”

She gives him a little smirk of her own, “Lots of things, I’m sure. I was once told I was aloof about my personal life.”

“And just when I thought I was getting to know the person under that tough exterior,” He feels the smile creep over his face, and he doesn’t care that he probably looks like a man hopelessly in love because he is.

He watches as her own expression softens and for just a moment, their eyes meet. A thousand words of unspoken love pass between them and he can see his entire universe in those captivating, blue orbs just as she can see a million promises in his.

Hailey shifts and winces at the sharp pain it causes her, cursing herself for ruining the moment. Those pain pills she’d tried refusing were looking pretty good right about now as the throbbing intensified around her still tender ribs.

Jay noticed her discomfort. He always does, and she could see the concern so clearly on his face it made her heart swell in love. He’s the most caring man she’s ever met, and it’s one of the things she loves most about him.

“As soon as I get back, you’re taking your meds,” Jay frowns, rubbing his thumb briefly along his hairline before dropping his arm, “I’d give them to you now, but I’m not sure I should leave you alone with narcotics in your system just in case. And besides, you need to take the antibiotics with food, so I’ll pick up something while I’m out.”

She just nods, picking up the remote for the television, “Sounds good. I’ll be here watching whatever trash I can find on TV, so hurry back.”

Jay gives her one last smile that warms her from head to toe before he opens the door and walks out.

When Jay walks through the hotel door about an hour later, he has the overwhelming urge to call out a ‘Honey, I’m home’, but he doesn’t want to wake Hailey if she’s sleeping and he’s not sure how she would respond to the term of endearment even if it is said teasingly.

It’s funny how that is the thing he feels would be crossing the practically non-existent line they have towing for the past several days. Or weeks really if he’s honest with himself.

As it turns out, she’s not sleeping but still in very much the same position he’d left her in. The TV was on, a rerun of ‘Happy Days’ playing quietly but she doesn’t seem to be paying much attention. Instead, she’s looking down at the phone in her hand, clearly scrolling through something before glancing up at him.

Her eyebrows rise as she takes in the various Target bags he’s carrying in both hands. Hailey let her phone drop in her lap, more interested in what Jay had bought because all she’d sent him out for were Snickers Bars, “Did you buy the whole store?”

He frowns at her as he finds the bag of take-out Chinese he’d ended up getting for their late lunch-early supper to set on the nightstand, “No, I did not, but I did get real food and,” He holds up the other bags he was carrying, “I got you your Snickers.”

Whatever else he’d bought was forgotten as she beamed up at him, already reaching for the candy bar he was digging for throughout his purchases. When he finally found what he was looking for, he tossed it to her, and she immediately ripped open the wrapper.

He makes a face as she bites into the sugary chocolate, “I still don’t know how you eat that crap.”

She responds with an eyeroll because her mouth was too full to make a witty comeback.

“You could at least wait till you ate actual food first,” Jay arched a disapproving eyebrow, his nose wrinkling as he watched her make an obvious display of enjoying her treat. He shakes his head and deposits the Target bags on the lower end of the bed to pull out the bottles of vitamin water he’d bought for her.

“Here, I got your favorite and a couple of new ones for you to try,” He handed her the blackberry flavored one before retrieving the pill bottles that were sitting on the nightstand beside their bag of food.

He read the instructions on each bottle then opened the oxycodone to dump one out, “Okay, you can have one right now and,” He checked his watch, “One at around seven then another at eleven.”

Hailey frowns, but takes the pill out of his outstretched palm anyway, “I hate the way these make me feel. My head feels fuzzy, and I can’t think clearly.”

Jay gives her a sympathetic smile and offers a simple, “I know” because he does know, but he also knows that if she has any hope of getting rest tonight, she needed to be well medicated.

“Maybe tomorrow we’ll try going all day without pain meds, okay? I just want to make sure you have a good night’s rest tonight since it’s your first night out of the hospital,” He tells her as he shakes out an antibiotic pill and then the iron supplement the doctor had prescribed her with for the next few days to hand to her.

Nodding, she knocks the three pills back and takes a swig of her vitamin water. Meeting his gaze, she reaches out to grab his hand and gives it a tight squeeze, “Thank you, Jay.”

The heavy tension that settles over them is now a familiar one and it’s almost comforting in a way as she tells him with her eyes how grateful she is for him.

After a few moments of silence, she clears her throat and withdraws her hand, turning her attention to the bags of stuff piled on the bed, “So, what’d you get?”

Jay blinks, shaking himself out of the trance they’d just been in as he rifled through the things he’d bought, pulling them out to show Hailey, “Well, I did some research and according to WebMD which was confirmed by my brother, weighted blankets can help with muscle soreness and speed up the recovery process.”

“I also got some ice packs,” He dumps out about a dozen before reaching in yet another bag, “And I picked up some of your favorite movies as well as a couple of pairs of fuzzy socks because I know you didn’t pack any and the hospital socks are terrible.”

The tears that spring to her eyes aren’t unexpected because the fact that he knows and remembers how much she loves wearing fuzzy socks when she’s at home decompressing tells her how much he cares even if he hasn’t really said it out loud yet.

The research, the weighted blanket, the movies, the treats, the socks; it’s slightly overbearing, but it’s sweet and it’s so undeniably him that it makes her heart hurt with the love she has for him.

She gives him a soft smile, “For someone who claims to not know me, he sure does take care of me and brings me all of my favorite things.”

“Well, after four years I would hope to know some things,” Jay smirks at her before moving to put the ice packs in the small fridge/freezer combo they had in the room.

He looks back at her over his shoulder, “But, I somehow missed your Snickers habit and it makes me wonder what else I should probably know, but don’t.”

Rolling her eyes, she watches as Jay moves back over to the bed, going for the food he’d sat on the nightstand.

“You know you’re not exactly an open book,” She points out with a wry smile.

He’s not an open book, it’s true, and even though she’s teasing him about it, she knows him better than anyone. Maybe better than even Will knows him. Maybe better than he even knows himself, and it’s ironic because the way she knows him better than anyone is more so through his actions and not his words.

She knows his heart through his acts of compassion. She knows his mind through his steady emotions. And she knows him because he lets her see the deepest parts of himself, unspoken secrets swimming in his eyes and dark memories whispered over drinks.

She knows the things that matter and the same could be said about the things he knows about her, but now that it’s being brought up, she does wonder if there are any meaningless habits she hasn’t bared witness to.

If her mind goes straight to those of a personal nature such as nighttime routines and shower preferences, then she’d never admit it.

“Well,” He handed her a container of Shrimp Lo Mein, “We’re stuck in this hotel room with basically nothing to do so,” Jay sat down on the bed, facing her with his own container of Chinese, “Let’s play a game.”

Hailey arches a skeptical eyebrow, “A game?”

“Yeah,” Jay nods as he takes a bite of his own Lo Mein, “Like one of those ‘get to know you’ games since we apparently don’t know much about each other.”

She frowns, a little unconvinced at this plan and what it could entail, but she’s curious and the slight woozy feeling she feels from the pain meds makes her ask, “What kind of ‘get to know you’ game? Like truth or dare?”

Smirking, he shakes his head, “No. Although, that could be extremely entertaining.”

“Uh-uh. No way am I drinking a bottle of hot sauce or jumping off the balcony or some other insanely difficult thing that you would think was easy,” She takes a bite of her food, trying to shake back the loose hair that keeps falling into her face, “I just had surgery.”

He’s full-on grinning now, chuckling at her impassioned response, “Nothing like that. I was thinking more along the lines of 21 Questions.”

Hailey tries to take another bite of her food, but her hair gets in the way again. She’s starting to get frustrated at the locks that keep falling into her eyes and mouth, making it hard to eat.

Sticking her chopsticks into the take-out container, she uses the now free hand to push her hair behind her ears as she shrugs, “Alright then. We don’t really have anything better to do other than watch movies and eat takeout anyways.”

The way his eyes sparkle at her answer is worth all the cheesy questions she’s sure he’s going to ask.

He stands up, shoving a used napkin into his now empty takeout container and she’s always amazed at how quickly he can down food when he wants to, “We can alternate asking questions and we don’t have to ask exactly 21 questions. It can be more, or it can be less.”

He throws his trash away and starts cleaning up the bed, moving all of the empty Target bags and the stuff he bought off to one side, “Is there anything off limits?”

She hesitates before saying no, shaking her head because while her natural inclination is to keep everything close to the vest, she knows there is nothing that she wouldn’t share with Jay if he asked her.

He makes her feel safe, and she’s constantly finding herself telling him things that she’d never said out loud before anyway, so she already knows that he will guard her secrets and feelings and thoughts deep in his own heart as if they were his own.

It’s like he knows what she’s thinking because the way he smiles at her is so gentle and the secretive sparkle in his eyes is what tells her that the same goes for him.

“You wanna go first or do you want me to?” Jay cocks his head, looking at her as he tears into the weighted blanket.

“You can go first,” She goes to take another bite of food when her hair falls into her face for what feels like the hundredth time.

She sighs internally, her frustration going unnoticed by Jay who had turned back towards the movies he’d bought, opening each of them as he tells her he has to make this first question a good one.

Pretty quickly after waking up from surgery, Hailey had found putting her hair up in its typical ponytail an almost impossible task because every time she raised her arms to gather her hair up, her stitches would pull, and her ribs protested loudly.

After several failed attempts that left her eyes watering, she ended up having a nurse put it up for her and she continued to ask for it done in the mornings before Jay arrived at the hospital to keep her company.

But now, there was no nurse to gather up her long, annoying hair when it keeps falling in her face and even though she’s stubborn enough to try it, Hailey knows if she pulls on her stitches or possibly breaks one, then she’s going to be paying for it tomorrow all because she wanted to put her hair up herself.

She sighs again, this one audible as she sets her Chinese container on the nightstand, “Jay?”

“Yeah?” He turns to look at her, his brows furrowed in concern.

Hailey bites her lip sheepishly as she snaps the elastic band around her wrist against her skin, “Can you put my hair up?”

He looks surprised for a moment before he smirks at the slight blush dusting her cheeks at having to ask for help with a task this simple, “Of course I can, Hailey.”

She hands him the ponytail holder as he walks over to the side of the bed, “But I will warn you. I’ve never done this before.”

She wants to tease him. Maybe tell him he’d better start practicing now if he ever hopes for a daughter one day, but it feels too on the nose when she wants that daughter to be hers too.

So instead, she smirks at him as he moves behind her to start gathering her hair up in awkward chunks. Hailey glances at him out of the corner of her eye, fake gasping, “Don’t tell me that the brave and noble Detective Jay Halstead, the man who jumps over moving cars and shoots sniper rifles doesn’t know how to put hair up in a ponytail.”

“Oh, shut up,” He grumbles good-naturedly, still trying to smooth her blonde hair into his loosely closed fist on top of her head, “It’s not like I’ve really had the opportunity or need to practice.”

Chuckling, she lets him concentrate on pulling her hair through the elastic and tries not to get lost in the feeling of his fingers in her hair and the warmth radiating off him. Her eyes flutter close and she marvels at how gentle he is even with the strength of his hands, well-conditioned in the act of squeezing a trigger.

And just like when making those shots, the precision in which he does everything is still there as he carefully tightens the elastic, securing her hair into place.

Hot breath hit the back of her now exposed neck and she can’t help but shiver. Before he’s stepping away, she swears she feels his hands brush her skin and she wonders if he’s equally as affected as she was by his closeness.

But before it can turn into anything, he’s smiling and settling back into his spot at the foot of the bed, gesturing to the ponytail he’d just completed, “It’s not as good as you do it, but I think it’ll pass.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Jay. It’s out of my face and it’s not like anyone will see it,” She grins at him as she picks up her food, intending to finish it off now that her hair won’t get in her way.

Jay frowns teasingly, “Hey, and what about me? Am I not someone?”

She smiles softly in amusement, “You’ve seen me in worse states and you’re not just anyone, you know that. You’re my best friend, Jay,” She hesitates because she knows that’s not strictly true. He is her best friend and he’s her partner but he’s also the man she loves, and it would be so easy to let the truth slip out.

Looking at him, she sees something in his eyes that looks like hope or maybe anticipation and she wonders if he thinks she’s going to tell him the one secrete she just can’t seem to get out. Maybe she would have told him if they sat there for a few seconds longer, but his phone buzzes and the moment is gone before it really even began.

Hailey wonders if phones are going to be their downfall.

She thinks she sees disappointment flash across his face, but she blinks and he’s looking at his phone with a serious expression.

“Is everything okay?” Her brow furrows as she watches him type out a quick response and put the device back into his pocket.

He shakes his head, sighing, “That was Kev. The Latin Players are on the verge of waging war against a new up and coming gang called The Jets.”

Interjecting, Hailey raises a brow, “As in West Side Story?”

“Yep,” Jay lets out a wry chuckle, “Anyway, the team flipped someone on The Jets’ side, and it looks like they are possibly willing to play ball so Kev was asking for some background info on my Latin Player connect because Intelligence is going to attempt to negotiate a truce before it can escalate to a full-blown gang war.”

She groans quietly, all too aware of the potential complications and ramifications that come from this type of violence, “That’s just what the city needs. A gang war.”

He huffs in agreement, dropping his head in disgust and she can see the tension in his shoulders. Even eight-hundred miles away, the crime and the innocent people that inevitably gets tangled up in it affects him.

Hailey frowns, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. She reaches out a hand to lightly touch his bent knee, “Jay.”

He looks up at her and the empathy she sees in his eyes makes her heart swell in what’s becoming a familiar sensation. Love and pride and admiration and respect for this man she has the privilege to know.

Her eyes soften and she smiles gently at him, an earnest look on her face, “If you need to go home, go home Jay. I’ll be alright here by myself. I don’t need you to take care of me.”

If the situation wasn’t so serious, she might have laughed at the way his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, clearly not expecting those words to come out of her mouth.

Recovering, his eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head adamantly, “No way. They can get along without me. I’m not leaving here without you and I don’t care if you think you can take care of yourself because who’s going to help you change your bandages or make you take your medicine or keep you company?”

He challenges in a slightly playful manner, but the eyebrow he raises dares her to contradict him and she knows he is serious, “Besides, I need to be here if I want to keep my own peace of mind. I don’t work well without you, so I’m not sure how much help I’d be anyway.”

She knows that no matter the circumstance, Jay would always perform above and beyond the call of duty, but she also knows that this is his way of telling her that he needs her and the way he was willing to stay with her in New York makes her heart stutter in yet another way.

Before she can dwell on the feeling any further, he’s smiling again, his eyes crinkling with mischief, “Now back to the game. I think I have the perfect question for you.”

Sorry it ended in a bit of an awkward spot, but I decided to split it into two parts when I hit 10,000 words and I still wasn’t done yet lol so I didn’t know this was going to be the ending of a chapter.

I’d love to hear what you thought and stay tuned for part three!

#upstead #upstead fanfiction #jay and hailey #hailey and jay #onechicago #chicagopd

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