#God I wish someone would pay me loads to sit in an office listening to music and being exceptionally wrong about it

[aeolianblues]

god, so there was this A&R man who was reportedly uninterested in Muse and Coldplay back in the day and heard their demos and was apparently like ‘fuck off, we don’t need another Radiohead (I am so smart)’ and also later on said he thought Mogwai were gonna be the biggest band on the planet. (He ‘regrets’ not signing them for money reasons, but I don’t think he enjoys listening to either particularly even today.) Don’t get me wrong, I have a lot of love in my heart for Mr. Stuart Braithwaite, but you just KNOW that A&R fella was gonna be the most insufferable man you’d have spent 4 minutes with. How the fuck did you even become A&R if your taste in music is that narrow, also.

[softboywriting]

Little Moments | Billy Russo

Summary: Tension in familiarity leads to confessions after a terrifying event. [Billy Russo x Reader] [Violence] [Blood] [Gunshots] [Assistant!Reader] [Alternate Timeline - Castle family not mentioned/never happened] [Fluff] 

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: This is my first Billy Russo fic, we’ll see where this goes yeah?

Just over a year ago you took a position as an assistant with Anvil. The job wasn't too bad, basically you took care of paying the bills for the facility, keeping inventory of supplies and equipment, scheduling appointments and keeping track of who was deployed where and why while keeping tabs on them and their duties while on deployment from Anvil. You had done work like this before, managing in a grocery store in your early twenties. It wasn't all that different, just instead of managing products you managed people. No the job was not difficult but your boss. Well. He was something else. 

William "Billy" Russo was a force to be reckoned with. Intelligent, handsome, cunning. His smile could kill. His eyes...they were something all their own. To say Billy was attractive was an understatement. But attraction was only part of the problem. The other part is his sharp tongue, quick wit and dry sarcasm. A year of sharing an office with him had put you on edge. You never know what he would do next, what he would say next. Some days you wish you could fuck him right there in that expensive leather rolling chair behind his desk. Other's you want to rip his leg off and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. The two of you got close, going back and forth with playful banter almost daily. It's like you’re always on the edge of being something more, if one of you would just make the first move.

Things finally come to a head one day when you've got a particularly large workload on your plate and Billy has decided to go on one of his little rants about who knows what, you tune him out. He is always coming into the office and talking to himself. Maybe he is talking to you, but you rarely participate in the conversation. At first you thought he was on a call, using a headset or something, but no. He just talks, and he talks a lot.

"Can you shut up for five fucking minutes?" You snap, head pounding from eye strain. You've been at the computer for six hours now, and you're trying to transcribe a call from one of his units over in Turkey about a job. Billy's mindless chatter has gotten on your last nerve today. 

Billy stops, falling silent somewhere near his desk. The room becomes thick, heavy with tension as you both remain silent. You've never snapped at him, not seriously. You've told him to go fuck himself but in a playful way. This was too real. Too loaded. He's your boss. Fuck.

You're not one to apologize when you're not actually sorry though. You remain silent, knowing he expects you to say something. He wants you to take back your words but you won't. 

"How much work do you have left?" 

Your eyes flick from the screen to him. He looks flushed. Angry? No. His eyes hold no malice. He looks aroused. No way. A cold sweat runs down your back. He must be livid. "I'm transcribing a call right now then I have to make copies of some invoices, order new foam guards for the weight benches and-"

"Finish the call. Then go home."

"Yes, sir."

Billy pushes off his desk and exits the room, leaving the door open behind him. You know that he isn't happy with your little outburst. You just don't know why he won't say as much. He looks turned on if you didn't know better. Or do you? 

The rest of the call goes smoothly now you don't have to pause every few seconds to rewind and listen to it to make out exactly what the unit leader was saying over Billy's chatter. You wrap up and head out as you were told. On the way out you pass Billy with a few of his higher up employees.

"Good night, Mr. Russo." You say softly with a hand raised in a wave. You always call him by his last name around other people. It's not much of a gesture but you want to keep things calm and civil. He nods, face unreadable, and gives a little raise of his hand as well. More than you expected, and it puts you at ease that you might keep your job. 

_____________________

"I'll have my assistant arrange the payment from you after the contract is finalized." 

You stop by the door to the meeting room to listen in. The men in the room with Billy are potential clients, men who want private security for multiple locations. You had greeted them when they arrived and showed them to the meeting room. They rubbed you the wrong way. You met a lot of men and women in your year at Anvil, a lot of different people from different walks of life. None of them made you as uncomfortable as these men had. You step away from the door and go to the office. If Billy wants to get in bed with them then let him. That's not your call.

"Let me grab the paperwork from my assistant." You hear through the closed door and Billy steps in, closing it behind him. "Can you give me a new client contract?" 

"Sure." You pull open the file drawer on your right and thumb through the papers. "They must be very promising work."

Billy leans on the side of the desk, quirking an eyebrow up at you. "What's got you so mouthy lately?" 

You cut him a glare and he chuckles. 

"You don't like them?"

"I'm not fond." 

"Why?" 

"They feel wrong." You extract a thick booklet of paper and hand it to Billy. "But let's not pretend you care what I think, Mr. Russo."

Billy rolls his eyes at the formalities. "You know damn well I value your input just like I do from any other person who works for me. Talk to me."

You sit up and lean back in your chair, eyes on his, your heart pounding. He's looking at you so attentively it's hard to focus. Those eyes, so soft and warm staring back at you. Fuck. He could make you spill the truth about everything without trying. "They give me a bad feeling. The second I greeted them they just...felt bad? I can't explain it."

"We work with a lot of morally gray people in our line of business, sweetheart." Billy leans back, hands spreading out on the desk. His hands, fuck they're nice. "But I will never ignore a gut instinct."

"So you won't sign the contract with them?" 

"I'll do some more investigation before I do. Talk to a few friends in high places."

You nod and slide forward to sit at the computer, closer to him. What a mistake. You can smell his cologne, his heat is pouring into your knee beside his. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes forward on the computer. He reaches over and lays a hand on your shoulder, making your body flush with heat. Why did he have to touch you? 

"Yes?" You ask, sparing a quick glance up at him. Mistake. He's staring down at you with those beautiful obsidian eyes. God they're so big and he's such a-

"Thank you."

"For what?" 

"For telling me. You've never come to me like this before about a client. I like it."

"Oh. Well it's your business so-" 

Billy leans in close to your ear and you feel that cold sweat return from when you told him to shut up. This time it's not fear or panic, it's arousal? The closeness is getting to you, your head is swimming. "You're just as important to me as this company. Remember that." 

You nod.

"Couldn't hear you."

"Y-yeah. Yes. I will."

He pushes off the desk and slides the papers he had been leaning against closer to you before he picks up the contract and smacks it against his hand a few times. "Will you set up a meeting with the Rodgers Estate for later?"

You grab a pen and scribble it in your planner. "Got it Mr. Russo."

"One more thing." He says and you look up. His hand is on the door handle. "Have a drink and relax? You're a little wound up lately. And drop the Mr. Russo shit, call me Billy when we're alone. You know that." He smiles and gives you a wink before slipping out the door to meet the clients in the hall.  

A drink? You need a week off, a spa getaway and a new career. Billy Russo is driving you up a wall and he doesn't even see it. Or maybe he does. Shit. 

_____________

A week later. Just before eight in the morning you're settled into your desk, ready to start going through some new shipment invoices when you hear a commotion downstairs. It isn't unusual for the trainees to get out of hand from time to time, fights break out, things get heated. You dismiss it and go about your work. 

"Six new treadmills? What the hell are these people doing to them?" You sigh and type the invoice number for Sports Equipmentz LTD into your system. "Billy is gonna get an ear full for this one."

There is more comotion and you look at the closed door. Another fight? Billy doesn't stand for that kind of stuff on the training floor. He would have stopped it by now. Actually, no one should be in the facility except you and Billy this early. What the hell is that noise.

You push up from the desk and go to the window beside the door, peeking through the blinds. From what you can see nothing looks out of balance. Then you hear gunshots and your stomach churns, cold and sick. There is no live fire allowed in the facility. All firearm training is done off site. 

"Fuck." You flip the lock on the door and look around for something to barricade the floor to ceiling window beside the door. There is nothing you can move alone. You flip off the light and head to your desk, grab your phone and dial Billy's number. 

No answer. You sink down under the desk and pull the chair in close. Maybe if someone does get in they will think the office is empty and move on since the desk looks unused. You reach over and shut down the computer tower, then reach up and pull down all your paperwork to clear the desk. 

Thumping from the bathroom on the other side of the office makes your heart pound. Someone is on the upper floor with you. A gunshot. Tears well up in your eyes. Why didn't you let Billy get you a conceal and carry? Why didn't you do that gun training six months ago? Because you're afraid of guns and you couldn't trust yourself not to hurt someone on accident. Fuck. Fuck! 

The door handle jiggles. You cover your mouth and try dialing Billy again. The phone disconnects as soon as it rings once. Goes straight to a voicemail. You can't remember if he is with a client today. There are voices outside the door, then a gunshot so loud you know it's just on the other side. You close your eyes, press your face into your knees and try to imagine you are invisible. 

The door opens, not with a kick, but unlocked and you can't breathe. You can't move. They're moving around the room. Billy's desk first. Papers are rustled, then the footsteps grow closer. You shrink yourself smaller, arms in pain from holding your knees so tight. 

"If they took you, I swear to God I will-...there you are." 

You look up and Billy is knelt down, arm on the desk as he looks at you. He's a fucking mess of what you can only assume is blood and God knows what. "Billy, oh god for fucks sake." You cry and he shoves the chair away to pull you out onto his lap. 

Never have you clung to someone so hard in your entire life. You press your face into his neck, hand digging into his back harshly as you cry in relief. 

His hand slides up your back and cradles your ribs on the left. "Hey, hey." He murmurs softly and you stop crying so hard. " What did I promise you when I hired you?" 

"That I would be safe. That no matter what I would be safe and a-all I had to do was paperw-work." 

"That's right." Billy pulls you back gently, tugging your shirt to guide you. He looks horrible, but none of it seems to be from his own injuries. "Aw, fuck. You're a mess now." 

You look down at your shirt and it's got blood on it. "Oh god. Oh god wh-who..."

Billy shakes his head. "Don't think about it too much." He presses a kiss to your temple, hand on the back of your head. "Close your eyes, don't look at it."

"What happened?" 

"I'll tell you later."

"I didn't know what to do."

"Hey, no, no shh. You were a good girl. You stayed quiet, stayed down and locked the door." He rubs your back and pats your side. "We're going to get out of here and I'll handle the situation from the apartment."

You nod and peek your eyes open for a second. "It's bad out there isn't it?" 

"It's not pretty. I'll get you outside and we'll get out of here, don't worry." 

"Okay."

_____________________

You had never been to Billy's place. Never had a reason to go. It's more industrial than you expected, modern industrial chic. Posh. Very expensive obviously, but that was Billy. Well dressed, well spoken. He looked the part to play the part. 

He set you up in a large bathroom and gave you clothes, a shirt and a pair of pajama pants. They might fit alright, Billy is quite a bit slimmer than you are in the hips and thighs. 

You look in the mirror and clench your jaw. Your peachy colored blouse is ruined, your sweater is fucked. Your face. God your face has someone else's blood on it. Across your cheek and nose where you had pressed your face into Billy's neck. 

There is a pile of washcloths and you grab a few, soaking them and scrubbing at your skin. You pull your clothes off fervently, desperate to be clean of strange blood. The shower is large, open and ready to be used. So you do. You get in and turn the water on and sit on the floor, processing. It was all a blur. Everything happened so fast. Was it even real?

Some time passes and you see the door open. The water is getting lukewarm as it cascades over your skin. You don't even care if he sees you naked you're so out of your own head. 

"I'm going to head to Anvil. The police have arrived to investigate the break in."

"Okay." You croak, not looking away from the wall opposite you.

"You can stay." Billy walks into the room and leans over the shower to turn the water off. He squats down beside you and offers you a towel from the warmer by the toilet. "Mind getting out of there for me?"

"Billy, what happened?" You look over at him and he looks...normal. He's in a blue sweater, dark jeans, boots. It's the most casual you've ever seen him. He's always been a suit man to you. Here he looks like a guy you'd meet at a bar and share a few beers with. The guy you'd take home and laugh about jokes with from stupid comedian on TV. It's strange, but warming. 

He helps you up and wraps you in the fluffy gray towel. "Your feeling? About the clients I met with?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You were right." He slicks your hair back off of your face. "They got wind that I was looking further into why they wanted my employees. It was for a human trafficking operation. I don't do human trafficking, and I was going to decline the offer. Some snitch at the Rodgers Estate let it out that I was asking questions. I guess they thought they could clear their tracks by killing me."

"O-oh."

"Mmm. I didn't think they would do something in broad daylight but here we are. Amatures." Billy steps back and runs a hand over his hair. "I called the police, said that I got a notification that the building had been beached through an unauthorized entrance. It's not a lie. Technically they did. Thankfully I wasn't there."

You step out of the shower and grab the clothes he gave you from the counter. "But you were. You...you killed those men." 

"No, I incapacitated them." He crosses his arms and pulls his lower lip between his teeth. "It was me and you or them. We were the only ones in that facility. I wasn't going to let them hurt you."

"H-how do you explain that?" You sit on the toilet and Billy leans on the doorframe. "What if-" 

"That's my job sweetheart. You worry about yourself, here. I gotta go meet the cops." He pats the wood a few times and looks out into the hall. "Call me if you need anything. I promise I'll answer no matter what."

You nod. 

"I'll be back later."

____________________

Hours pass and you become familiar with the apartment. It's huge, the penthouse of a very expensive building downtown. It has two bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen and dining area, a living room, a balcony that wraps around and has a fire pit and a small private pool. It's more luxury than you could ever afford. Not that Anvil doesn't pay well, because it does. This is just far more than you could ever make. 

In Billy's room there aren't any personal touches. It's clean, picture perfect even. Like at any moment someone could come and take photos to sell the place. There is a picture on his bedside table, the only thing that isn't straight from a design catalog. It's you and Billy with a few investors. Your first meeting he ever brought you to. How could you forget? He bought you the dress literally an hour before the meeting because yours ripped in the back. It was possibly the most embarrassing thing you've ever done in front of a boss. He didn't make you feel bad or anything, he simply asked your size, stopped at a shop on the way to the dinner and got you a dress. It was just that easy, that normal. 

You set the photo down and lay back. Your eyes close and you imagine what Billy is like outside of work. Of course you've gotten a taste of that, all the banter and shared stories. Nothing too deep but enough to keep conversation going. You probably shared more than him, way more. It was like when you started talking to someone you couldn't stop. You just, information overload the poor person. Usually people get spooked away, or they tell you that they don't care or don't need to know. Not Billy. He just listened, gaze fixed on you while you talked. Maybe that's why you like him so much. He listened. He cared. 

"Cozy?" 

You roll over and open your eyes to find Billy in the doorway to his room. "You're back. I didn't hear you come in?" 

"There is a bed in the other room y'know?" He chuckles as he goes to sit at the end of the bed and pull his boots off. "Or do you just like mine because it's bigger?" 

"Oh yeah, yours is much bigger. Comfier too." 

He hums. "Go through all my shit?" 

"You know it." 

"There's my girl." He looks back and he's smiling. "I was getting worried about you. You seemed pretty shaken up."

You sigh and shake your head. Of course Billy doesn't think about how you've never been in a dangerous situation short of falling from a tree when you were ten. To him gunfire and blood were in a day's work as an ex marine special operations. "I think I'd be more worried about you."

Billy turns and crawls up the bed, leaning with his head on his hand, elbow propping him up. "Why's that?" 

"Been a while since you saw live action hasn't it? You're not worried about PTSD?"

"I've seen plenty of action since I got out. I know the risk I take running the company I do. It hasn't happened before now but it was bound to eventually."

"Right, yeah."

"Do I scare you?" 

You shake your head. "No, not really. I know you've done things, seen things that I couldn't even imagine. It's part of who you are, who you were." 

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that. It was them or us. You know that right?" 

"Y-yeah. I know." You pick at the bedspread and he bumps his hand against your knee. 

"You alright? I tried to keep you...away from it. I know you aren't like everyone else."

"I'm not ex military you mean." You feel your chest tighten. "I'm a civilian. I can't defend myself." 

Billy sits up and lays a hand on your back. "Hey, hey."

"I shouldn't stay at Anvil. I should just go somewhere else. I can't do this, Billy, I'm scared what if this happened again?" Tears spill over and down your face. "I-I can't." 

"I will never let anything happen to you." He turns your face to look at him. He's warm, his lips plush, eyes on yours. "You can work from home if you want. I'll stop by and bother you and make you tell me to shut up." He smiles a little as your lips turn up at the telling him to shut up part. "You like that?"

"I don't know, but I think you do." 

Billy laughs softly, his smile wide. "Maybe I do. You noticed that?" 

"Maybe." You wipe your eyes and he brushes a stray tear away with his thumb. "Why do you care so much? I'm just your assistant." 

"Because I love you."

"W-what?" You hiccup as your breathing stops for a moment. 

"You're like family. I trust you with everything, I tell you everything, you're my girl." Billy runs a hand through your hair. "I can't lose you." 

"I don't-...I'm just-" 

His lips press against yours and your eyes fall closed. It's an innocent kiss, soft and loving. "If I read this wrong all this time, you gotta tell me." He murmurs, head pressed to yours. 

"No, you didn't. I just, you just caught me off guard." 

"Yeah?" He smiles, nose scrunching up against yours. He places his fingers under your chin and tilts your head up to kiss you again briefly. "You're sure it's okay?" 

You nod and he pulls back to kiss your temple, holding his nose to your hair and cradling the back of your head. 

"Get some rest, I've got some calls to make." He climbs off the bed and heads for the door. 

"Are you leaving?" 

"No." 

"Good." 

He walks back quickly and kisses your cheek. "I mean it. Get some rest."

"I would if you'd just go already."

"Oh. You think you can just get rid of me?" He crawls back on the bed and you fall back as he straddles your hips. "You think you can boss me around huh?" He starts tickling your sides and you squeal, thrashing under his surprisingly strong hold. 

"Stop! Stop! I yield!" 

Billy stops and bends over, bracketing your head with his arms. "I knew you'd be fun to torment outside of that stuffy office." 

"I hate tickling." 

"Oh that's very obvious. I've made a mental note, highlighted it in yellow and everything." He bumps his nose against yours. "I'm gonna find everything that makes you tick." 

You reach up and run a hand over his hair that's flopping forward from lack of product. "Expect to get as much as you give." 

"Oh I do." His lips ghost over yours as he speaks. "I look forward to it." 

You shove his head to the side and he flops over. "Don't you have calls to make?" 

"Maybe." 

"Go make your calls. I'm going to stink up your bed and rifle through your drawers more." 

"I expect no less." He says, getting up and going to the door once more. "Let me know if you find anything you like, yeah?" 

"Get out!" 

He just cackles and you close your eyes. This is really happening. Funny how the world works in mysterious ways. You never thought you'd be the one to snatch Billy Russo off the market but here you are, and you're pretty damn proud of it. 

The end 

-----------

Header image by delicate-venus

Thank you so much for reading, please reblog to support content creators. -A

[glassartpeasants]

Fragile Hearts

Tomura Shigaraki x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Hanahaki disease, sad reader hours, reader is insecure, mentions of death, name calling, this is really sad so read at your own risk

A/N: I wish this shit didn’t hit different. Wanna know why? Probably because i’ve got 2 series going down at this moment. Crying In The Club plus and a Shigaraki one thats still in the making. So we’re suffering together ya’ll.

It’s angst month motherfuckers >:)

~~~

God he looked so handsome today. Those beautiful ruby eyes always found a way to creep into your brain. How could they not? You felt a wave love whenever you stared into them. It always gave your heart joy staring into them.

But it always gave you pain.

Maybe cause you were to afraid to confess? Or was the fact that he seemed to not even show a pinch of interest in you. Or was it the fact that he seemed much more interested in a different women every day. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he indeed hire prostitutes or escorts. 

You never showed it but every time you saw a different woman leave his quarters it always felt someone had stabbed you right through the heart. You knew he was a reserved and quiet man. Hell he barely talked to anyone if it wasn’t for a meeting or telling someone off. He was a pretty angry and harsh soul. While you, well,

You were that kind of soul that you would have given the shirt off your back to anyone in need. Many villains (mainly Dabi) asked why even bother becoming a villain if you were so kind to them all, in Dabi’s words “Villains are suppose to be rude and horrible.” It was an reasonable question really. The true reason you became a villain was simple.

You held a unruly grudge against heros.

When you were about 8 years old a fire had started in your family home. The flames were so bright. You remembered that day so vividly. The screaming of your family trying to get everyone out. But they were stuck inside while you had managed to go over to a neighbors house and call the cops but when you called and they heard your voice they said,

“Listen kid we have bigger things to do. Next time when you call make sure there’s a real emergency instead of prank calling us.” And then he hung up. The cops, who were there to protect you had hung up on you.

And that fateful call was what sealed your families fate.

After that, you never really believed in the hero system. They had failed you and your family. Which was lead you to villainy. You may have been a kind soul but you would rather use that kindness to help out someone who you feel is worthy. The League of Villains picked you up off the streets, so to you, they were your only family.

~~~

You laid down on the bed that occupied your room, staring at the ceiling. It was nicer then the old bar you guys use to live in but, to you it didn’t feel the same. You were happy for how far you guys came but it just felt like most of the PLF kinda made you sad. You didn’t know why but it did. Maybe was it due to the fact that you wanted it to be just the league? You weren’t fond of these new people. Probably cause they tore you down a lot. 

Your quirk was Energy, your quirk allowed you to use energy of the sun to heal you and use sun rays. But the down fall of your quirk was that it was absolutely useless at night. So you had to rely on your combat skill in the night. That was one of the reasons they didn’t like you, cause your quirk kinda had a big flaw. But they also merciless teased you about being kind to your fellow league members. 

You wanted to scream at them. Tell them off, do something at least but, no matter what you thought you could do. Your confidence faded when you remember that they would probably tell Tomura about your outburst. And since he has a habit of decaying people without warning, you just decided it was best to keep your pretty mouth shut.

You sigh as you get off your bed before changing your clothes to pj’s. You put on the black tank top and pajama pants which were super soft and fuzzy. Putting on some socks you open the door and make your descent into the kitchen. You tried to be as quiet as you could. Not wanting to wake anyone up while you ran to get a midnight snack.

Once reaching the kitchen you turn on the lights and almost let out a scream but took a breath instead.

“Oh geez Dabi, scared the shit outta me.” You laugh before making movements towards the fridge.

“Good, gotta keep that blood pumping.” He chuckled before setting his whiskey down. 

You grab your snack before going next to Dabi and sitting down. You picked up your fork and begun to eat only to almost choke at Dabi’s words.

“So when are you gonna tell the boss you have a thing for him?” You almost choke on your food before looking at Dabi with wide eyes. What?! Was your staring that obvious? Oh god...

“H-how did you know?”

“We maybe surrounded by them but i’m no idiot. I can tell when someone has the hots for someone else. It’s just funny seeing you even try with that gremlin.” Dabi laughed at you while you crossed your arms. 

“So what if I think he’s hot? I know that I’ll never have a chance with him, considering all the woman he has coming in and out of his office.” You say with hints of sadness in your voice. It wasn’t hard to tell. You knew what this feeling was. You knew you had grown a one-sided love for your boss.

“Well if you think that you better be careful.” You uncross your arms with a confused look on your face.

“If your talking about me getting with him I know’ll get my heart bro-”

“No, I’m talking about you getting Hanahaki Disease.” What in the ever loving hell is that?

“What the fuck is that?”

“I can tell you one thing is that it never ends up being in a happy ending. So pray you don’t get it.” Dabi said before drinking the rest of the whiskey and going towards his room.

You furrow your brows as you look down at the table. Hanahaki Disease eh? Well you could probably look it up tomorrow, since you have no missions tomorrow as far as your knowledge. 

“The disease can’t be that bad, right?”

~~~

You wake up to a burning pain in your chest. You let out a little cough before going over to your bathroom to take a shower. This time you let out a louder cough, it felt like something was in your throat. Ugh this feeling was always the worst damnit.

You start coughing trying to get whatever the hell was in your throat out. You pounded at your chest before a little daisy popped out of your mouth. You fell on your ass while holding your throat, rubbing it as you looked at the flower with confusion. 

“How did that get in my throat?” You crawl over a scoop up the daisy. Looking at it with amazement and confusion. This is impossible, how the hell?

Grabbing your phone you opened up google and searched online for any answers on what this could mean.

‘i just coughed up a flower, what the does that mean?’

You wait for the screen to stop loading only to drop the flower and scurry away from it as fast as possible.

No way...this couldn’t be real, how could this happen! You knew you liked your boss but when you read the article saying it can only happen from a one sided love you knew you were boned.

How can you get rid of a love that has taken so long to blossom? Only for it to be your down fall. You kept reading up on it while sitting on the bathroom floor. The more you read the more scared you became. You could die from it if you didn’t get it treated! But the procedure was said to be very risky and highly dangerous. So it was pretty much up to you to get over your feelings for Shigaraki. Yeah that was going to be a pain in the ass.

Time could only tell.

~~~

Day One

You sat at the meeting while your eyes couldn’t help but stare at him. He was so gorgeous, who could you ever compare to the girls he brings to his beck ad call? They were perfect! You just felt like no matter what you did, you never could get the attention of your leader. No, you need to work on yourself! The disease can’t get worse or else-

“(Y/N)! Were you even paying attention?” Shigaraki’s voice boomed causing you to yelp. Snickering could be heard around the table causing your face to heat up in embarrassment. You look at Spinner and he sends you a apologetic look.

“No Shigaraki, I’m sorry. I had something on my mind.” You say looking down. You’ve never been one with getting yelled at. 

“Well get your head out of your ass and pay attention and if your not going to the doors right there.” 

“I’ll pay attention.” You said as you looked down, trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill. Your nails dig into your clothes thighs as you only listen to Shigaraki. You wanted to but all you could hear was sweet voice that you wished was there instead of the one now.

~~~

Day 5

You looked terrible to say the least. You couldn’t believe that is was growing this fast! I mean when you looked into it it said 2-3 months but you didn’t think it would grow so unreasonable fast!

Thinking about it and pushing your panic aside you’ve come to the conclusion that its going faster because of how deep your love and loyalty is for him. It’s so deep rooted that the flowers are growing faster.

Especially the one growing on your neck. 

You’ve looked into what each flower means and the first one which was a daisy meant innocence, purity and loyal love. This time however, it was a rose. You looked it up and saw that it meant girlhood, modesty and secrecy. You knew why this one had popped up. Probably cause of the fact that you’ve been hiding in your room a lot lately. You didn’t want anyone to catch you hacking up flowers. It was already painful as it is so you don’t need any judgement stares.

That didn’t mean your coughing didn’t go unnoticed though. Your coughs were loud enough that Toga and Spinner came to ask if you were okay a couple times. You told them you were and that you were just sick and that you would get better soon.

‘If by better then you mean dead.’

You shook your head before putting your head into your pillow. Effectively screaming into it out of frustration. How in the ever loving hell where you going to get rid of this damn thing if you couldn’t keep him out of your mind?

~~~

Day 14

You felt like shit. Your entire being just felt weak in general. There were bags under your eyes and more little flowers covering your face. If it were glued on and not attached to your skin, you would have thought it as cute. Now? You hated them, you hated yourself. What would your parents think? Seeing you dying over a man that doesn’t love you back. unknowingly killing you from afar.

A knock came at your door and before thinking you said come in. Your eyes went wide and before you could change your mind Dabi walked in and locked the door behind him.

“How long did you think you could hide huh?” Dabi said as he sat on the bed next to you. He may not have shown it but he was worried. He had known your little thing for Shigaraki but he didn’t know it would be this bad.

“I don’t know. How can I get rid of it when I can’t even look Shigaraki in the face. He would think I’m weak.” You said before coughing up another flower. This time blood was seen covering some of the petals. 

“Shit this is worse then I originally thought. It’s at stage three already. Yours is progressing insanely fast. What will it take to realize that he doesn’t love you.” You knew Dabi meant good with his words but you couldn’t help but feel a little bit of your love for him chip away.

Which caused a flower to fall off of your face.

“That’s it.” Dabi said as he picked up the flower and held it in his hands. You look at him with your brow raised.

“Stay here. But before I do what im about to do, just know I’m doing this to save your life understand?” You nod worried about what he’s planning. All you can do is sigh and hold your pillow closer to your chest as you waited to see what Dabi had in store.

~~~

Day 16

You laid in you bed watching some netflix when Shigaraki barged into your room with an angry look. Your eyes widen as you clung to the sheets you had wrapped yourself in.

“So I’m hearing that you love me.” He made it sound like a statement rather then a question. You look all over in the room to avoid his gaze. You shut your eyes only to have your head jerked towards shigaraki, making you look into his crimson eyes.

“Well news flash, I don’t feel the same way.” You swore you could have felt your heart drop in his stomach. Tears rimmed your eyes as Shigaraki looked all around your face noticing all your flowers. Looking into your eyes noticing how they were slowly turning white, making him let out a little chuckle.

“Your pathetic, you let something like love get in the way of my goal? Your so selfish you know?” Your tears were falling at this point. Blurring your vision while you felt a strong pain on your cheek. Shigaraki had ripped off a flower. A pink rose that bloomed on your right cheek.

“I find this hilarious honestly, look at you, needing my validation. When guess what bitch? Your not getting any. And you never will so you might as well tear off all these flowers off your disgusting face.” You couldn’t say anything before pain filled your entire being as Shigaraki picked off every flower that covered your face and neck, leaving you bleeding. 

You feel a light feeling in your chest as you felt like you could breathe again. the flowers that bloomed on your shoulder were slowly withering away. The feeling off something in your throat went away as well as all the flowers that bloomed on your body that was still left had withered and fell off. Your once blurred vision now crystal clear as you looked Shigaraki right in the eyes.

“Look better. Now if i ever see another flower on your face or in your room I’ll dust you myself understand?” You nod your head yes before Shigaraki let go of your face.

You hid yourself under the covers in order to avoid his gaze. Not seeing the little face of sadness that crossed his face.

~~~

“Did you do it?” Dabi asked Shigaraki when he saw him leave your room.

“No shit sherlock.” Shigaraki said as he walked past him only to be stopped by Dabi’s arm.

“It was for the best. She would have died if you didn’t.” Dabi spoke softly  before taking his arms away, Not looking Shigaraki in the eyes.

“I know.”

Shigaraki walked away before going to his room. Once he stepped in he closed the door behind him before falling to the floor. He threaded his hands in his hair before pulling out all the flowers he had taken from your face. Each one of them a different color. A cold feeling entered his heart, knowing that you were suffering because of him.

He had to remain strong. He couldn’t have love be in the way. At least that’s when he told himself at first. 

Ever since you showed up at the bar that faithful day, he knew he had to have you. He knew that he needed you. Why else would his heart beat so fast when you walked past. He always imagined you by his side, sitting on his throne with him. his queen of the villains.

If only he had confessed sooner. If he had he would not have to see you dying in your room because of it. Watching your life slowly slip from your eyes as the days passed by. You were hurting because of his stupid mistake.

And now he had to suffer the consequences. 

He held your flowers close to his face. They smelled of you. Reminding him of the deed he had just done. Tears hit the petals of the flowers, effectively collecting shigaraki’s tears. It hurt. Why did it have to hurt so bad.

A blue poppy was slowly growing on Shigaraki’s neck.

[the-writing-dump-bin]

I’d Rather Be With You

Jotaro x Female reader

Not really NSFW but things are implied | VERY cheesy story, so if you like those things, this may be the fic for you!

Four years ago- Cairo Airport

"So you're really going to go back home?" Polnareff whined. "Wouldn't you like to see the countrysides of France?"

"My family needs me." You smiled, but you were feeling sad about leaving your new found friends. Especially after aiding them in the defeat of the Joestar foe, Dio Brando. "I have to go back." Joseph and Avdol understood your choice, wishing you the best of luck and that your paths cross again. Giving them each a hug, you moved to the next two to say goodbye, which was breaking your heart.

Other than Iggy, who you formed a special bond with and was coming home with you, you had grown close to Kakyoin and the group's hero, Jotaro. These were the hardest goodbyes, even if Jotaro was an asshole to you the entire trip. But there was something about him that told you he was a kind person on the inside. Going to Kakyoin first, you hugged him tight. "I wish you the best, Kakyoin. Stay safe."

Kakyoin noticed you trying to hide your emotions and gave you a smile. "I will miss you, Y/N. Are you sure you don't want to come back to Japan with us?"

"I am sure." There was something in your heart that wanted to stay with them. Something? No, not something. Someone. Looking to the tall, brooding, dark-haired man, you felt your chest tighten with emotion. He wasn't looking at you. In fact, he wasn't even facing the group, just looking off into the airport with his back turned to everyone else. "Goodbye, Jotaro..." He didn't move. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nodded and bent down to pick up Iggy, saying goodbye once more to the others and boarded your plane.

Joseph made a scowl to his grandson. "Jotaro, that was really rude. She helped us throughout this trip and all you do is give her the cold shoulder?"

"Drop it, old man."

"She said goodbye to you and you ingored her. There is a chance you may never see her again!"

Jotaro remained still, hands stuffed in his pockets. He wasn't ignoring you on purpose. He just didn't want you, or the others, to see the pain he was feeling of not being by your side anymore. He had grown feelings for you during this whole thing and he desperately wanted you to stay with him. But he was horrible at expressing emotion and had come off as cold to you, which wasn't his intention. Taking a deep inhale through his nose, he stepped forward to the gate where they were to catch their plane. "Good."

Present day

The sun shone brightly on this busy morning as new students arrived for orientation for college. There were tables set up outside for different after class groups, members trying to get more to join them.

"It sure is bigger than the photos led on..."  Kakyoin observed, looking around the campus at all the different people and buildings. "I think I'm going to like it here. What do you think, Jotaro?"

Jotaro walked next to his best friend, scanning the area as well. He had chose this place for their marine department, it was said that it was the best right now and Jotaro wanted to take advantage of the program. Kakyoin decided to come too. Not only for secondary schooling, but to travel to a new part of the world. "Looks all right."

The day was so nice that administration held the sign in booth outside.

The two males made their way to the designated area. Kakyoin spoke his thoughts out loud as they walked with Jotaro listening to him. "What do you think the dorms are like? Luckily we didn't bring a lot of stuff so I'm guessing it might be okay for us-" He cut himself off and stared at the sign in table. "J-Jotaro... Do you see what I see?"

Jotaro blinked confused at his friend and followed his gaze. At first, he saw a familiar mutt at the feet of a girl who was sitting at the administration table, smiling and handing forms to the new students. The air in his lungs seemed to have drain when he saw you, stopping dead in his tracks.

"Did you know she went to this school?" Kakyoin questioned, but the look on Jotaro's face told him that he didn't. "We hadn't heard from her in four years... I guess this is where she ended up. Jotaro? Are you okay?"

It was like everything around Jotaro came to a halt, like he had used Star Platinum to stop time. The wind stopped blowing, people froze in place, birds quiet; just you remained in his vision. "Y/N..." He breathed. When he heard his name be called from Kakyoin, the world started moving again. "Huh? Uh? Oh, yeah. Whatever."

Kakyoin smiled. Jotaro clearly wasn't paying attention to anything else around him. "C'mon. Let's go say 'hi'." He walked to the table.

Jotaro's eyes widened. "Wait, what?" He took a couple strides to catch up with his friend. "Kakyoin, wait! Stop!"

"Come now, Jojo. There is no way to avoid her. She is working the administration table, we have to sign in."

Heart racing, palms sweaty and breathing rushed, Jotaro panicked. What does he say to you? He had been cold and rude to you four years ago and hadn't talked to you since. In honesty, in these four years, there wasn't one day he never thought of you. When he had gotten home from Egypt, he placed the photo they took in the desert by his bedside. That way, when he went to sleep and woke up, you would be the last thing he saw when he closed his eyes and the first thing he seen when he opened them. Taking a deep breath, he followed Kakyoin to your location.

Arwo? Iggy perked up his ears and brought his head up, waking from his nap at your feet.

"Hm?" You looked down at the dog after you handed off a students school package. "What is it, Iggy?" Looking in the mutt's direction, you noticed a familiar face. "K-Kakyoin?!" Standing up, you rushed around the table and embraced the red-haired man. "Oh my god! That really you? What are you doing here?"

Kakyoin smiled brightly, your hug tight around his body. "Yes. You look good, Y/N. Well, we were looking at schools not too long ago and we decided to come here."

"We?" You repeated, head tilting to the side.

"Yeah, me and Jotaro." He moved to the side, revealing the same tall, handsome man you met years ago. "Oh, hey, Iggy." He greeted the mutt, letting the two of you reunite.

Jotaro stood with his hands in his pockets, eyes flicking from the ground to you. He tried his best to keep calm, to stop his nerves from shaking. "Uh, hey."

Your heart felt like it was beating in your throat. Other than his clothes, Jotaro never really changed much. Dark curls, sharp features, well fit frame, it was all the same. "Hey..." The word came out breathy. "You look...good, Jotaro..."

This is stupid! Jotaro thought to himself. I shouldn't be like this flustered. She's just a woman. Switching to his usual stoic attitude, he stood taller and looked down at you. "Thanks."

You blinked, taken back from the change in his attitude but then smiled. Hmpf. Same old Jojo. "So you and Kakyoin are enrolling here? It's a great school, you chose well." You beckoned them to follow you back to the table. "I have been here for a year now. This year I am helping the main office with getting the new students get their schedules and give them their dorms."

"They let you have Iggy with you?" Kakyoin asked.

"Well, yes and no." You chuckled. "Pets aren't allowed on campus or in dorms... But you know how persistent he is. I registered him as my emotional support animal, therefore he's allowed to be with me." Petting the Boston Terrier, you gave him a 'what am I going to do with you' look. Your attention went to the folders neatly stacked on the table and you searched for their names. Once you found them, you handed them their packages. "You must have bribed the school somehow, Jotaro."

Jotaro squinted his eyes. "How so?"

"Because roommates are selected randomly at this school and you and Kakyoin are roommates." You put your hand on your hip and continued with a snarky attitude. "So you're either lucky enough to be randomly paired with your best friend or you paid a great amount of money to the school for you two to be roommates. Since I know how loaded you are, I'm guessing it's the latter."

Kakyoin couldn't help but snicker at Jotaro's shocked expression. In return, Jotaro gave him a warning look, so he turned back to you. "Smart. Since when did you get so snarky?"

Crossing your arms, you looked at Jotaro. "I learned from the best."

That fluttery feeling came back to Jotaro. He balled his fist and growled. "Just give us our dorm keys so we can get on with our day."

Handing them the things they needed, you also gave them your cell phone number. "I don't give my number out to anyone, but you guys are my friends. So if you guys need anything, get lost around campus or want to hang out..." Your fingers brushed Jotaro's large hand as you handed him the paper. "Just give me a call."

Saying goodbye, they left to get settled in. You watched them walk away, your heart full of emotion from seeing your friends again. Especially Jotaro. You had thought about him a lot over the years, how you wanted to stay with him after the battle in Egypt. But he seemed like he clearly didn't care if you did, that's why you had made up the story about going back home. In a sense, you did end up going home, but you stayed with another family member.

Iggy padded to your side, sitting at your feet and whimpered to you. Being with you all this time, he knew how you were feeling. He had listen to you talk about Jotaro many times and knew you were in love with him. Iggy was no ordinary dog, he was your best friend.

"He's back, Iggy." You took a deep, stuttery breath. "He's really back."

----

The next few months flew by. Having Jotaro and Kakyoin with you sure made college more fun. From study sessions, going to a few parties and just hanging out watching movies, you felt a lot happier. Tonight, you were going over to Jotaro's and Kakyoin's dorm for some group studying. Jotaro walked around the room, picking up and tidying anything that looked out of place. Kakyoin sat on his bed and watched him, smiling with his arms crossed. Jotaro was always this frantic when you were coming over.

After he was done cleaning, Jotaro went to the bathroom and sprayed on some cologne, checking himself in the mirror. When he came back, he scanned the room one more time before his eyes went to Kakyoin, who was smirking. "What's your issue?" He grunted.

"Why don't you just ask her out already."

"What?"

Sighing, Kakyoin stood up and grabbed his books. "You know damn well what I mean. Y/N. You love her, Jotaro, you always have. You could have saved yourself four and a half lonely years if you had just told her before she left at the airport."

Jotaro didn't say anything. He knew Kakyoin was right, but he didn't know how to tell you how he felt, and that resulted in you leaving and him being alone all these years. He couldn't bring himself to start a relationship with just anyone...he wanted you.

Knock knock. Opening the door, Jotaro greeted you. The scent coming from him hit your nose, making you feel a flutter in your stomach. Why did he have this affect on you? "Hey, guys." You said, walking in quickly past the large man and pulling out your books; you needed to distract yourself. "What are you guys working on tonight? I don't really have homework so I brought over some files from the office to order."

~

The night was going on just like any other. Laughing, helping each other the best you could since each of you were taking different subjects. Getting up, you excused yourself to the washroom, leaving the two males in the room. Kakyoin got up from his spot on his bed, grabbing his coat and putting on his shoes.

"Where are you going?" Jotaro asked.

"I'm leaving for the night." He stared at him. "Make your move with Y/N."

"Wait, Kakyoin!" Jotaro shot up and ran to him at the door, hissing at him in a hushed tone. "What do you think you are doing? You can't just leave me alone with her!"

Kakyoin put his hand Jotaro's shoulder. "Jotaro... I've been watching you two all night. Maybe you two didn't see it, but I did. Both of you have been stealing glances at each other when you weren't looking, her flirtatious smile and laugh when she talks to you. It's been going on all night. Just go for it."

The sound of the water running from the tap in the bathroom told them that you were almost done and ready to come back to the main room. Jotaro panicked. Kakyoin couldn't leave, he had never been alone with you before.

"You'll be fine. Just jump in the water and show her how you feel. I know you very well, I know you don't know how to express yourself, but this is something you need to do." Opening the door, he gave him one last look. "There are condoms in the drawer of my side table if you need them."

"KAKYOIN!" Jotaro hissed with wide eyes. His face was flushed red as Kakyoin smiled and left, shutting the door behind him. Putting his forehead on the wood of the door, he cursed. "Yare yare daze."

"Jotaro?" Your voice rang from behind him. "Are you okay? Where is Kakyoin?"

Gritting his teeth, he composed himself and turned around. "He said he was going out for a while. And I'm fine." What a lie. He walked past you and sat back down on his bed, picking up the paper he was working on before this situation happened. He tried to focus his attention back to it, but was surprised when he felt you sit next to him on his right. "Wh-What are you doing?"

"The floor was getting hard, I thought I could sit here..." You explained. "Is that not okay? I could sit on Kakyoin's bed if you don't want me on yours."

So many thoughts and feelings were racing through the poor boy. Jotaro thought that he might just break down from everything. "N-No... You're fine there." Nodding, you went back to taking notes on which files would go where when you brought them back to the main office.

An uncomfortable silence took over the room. Jotaro just stared at the sheet in front of him, using his pen to absentmindedly doodle on the side of the paper. He couldn't concentrate on anything except what Kakyoin said. Show her how you feel. You two have been stealing glances. Just jump in the water. Oh, how he wanted to be bold enough to do something. Huh? Jotaro's thoughts were halted when he felt a little pressure on his right shoulder. Turning his head slightly, he saw that you were leaning your head against him, eyes closed and smiling. "Y-Y/N?"

You don't know how you ended nestled against Jotaro's broad shoulder. One moment you were working on your project, the next, you caught the scent of his cologne you smelt when you walked in and closed your eyes, intoxicated by it and leaned against him, trying to get more of the scent. When he said your name, he pulled you out of your trance. "O-Oh!" You sat up straighter, blushing with embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry. I just- I mean- you just smell really nice tonight."

Ba dum. Jotaro's heart felt like it was being overworked and he couldn't control it. He also felt a sensation in his waist, specifically between his legs. Oh, god, not now! He shifted his body, bringing his leg up enough to hide his growing erection from you; his face red as if he had been out in the sun too long. When he moved his leg, you moved as well, shuffling away from him a little. Not feeling your warmth on his side anymore, he looked back to his paper. "Well, you don't have to move..." He found himself muttering. "I-If you want to lean on my shoulder... That's okay, I guess."

You held your breath, shifting your eyes to the large brute beside you. He wasn't looking at you, but you could see that he was visually flustered. It was cute to see him this way. Jotaro was always reserved and looked like he didn't care, but there was that tiny gleam you had always seem to notice about him. Picking up the smell again, you closed your eyes and returned to his side, nuzzling into him.

Smiling himself, Jotaro tilted his head so that it rested on yours. It felt right, having you here next to him. He played moments like this in his mind for years, quiet nights with just the two of you cuddling. During his time without you felt dark and cold, but with the last few months, you brought colour and warmth to him. He always wanted you, and he was hoping that you felt the same way. Which was confirmed when you laced your fingers with his and held his hand, his pen rolling off his notebook. He leaned forward a bit to look at your face, which was looking back at him, eyes half lidded and roaming his features. His nerves shook again and he licked his lips. "A-Are you going to... I mean, do you want to...?"

Nothing was said when you leaned up and gave him a slow kiss. Your stomach did flips and Jotaro froze; this was something you both had long for. Pulling away, you felt bashful and adverted your eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that-" Jotaro placed his hand on the side of your head and kissed you deeply, tongue gliding across your bottom lip, looking for permission to dance with your own; you accepted.

A few more kisses as you shifted to push Jotaro onto his back on the mattress. He held you gently while you laid on top of his body, his hands softly roaming your backside. You took off his hat, letting it fall to the floor while you carded your fingers through his curls. Your other hand slid up his shirt, feeling his muscles contract and relax. Jotaro copied your move, his fingers pressing into your skin like he was trying to control himself. Your kisses traveled from his mouth, across his jawline, down his neck and finally to his collar bone.

Jotaro squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on your movements. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugged you tightly and close to his body. This is what he wanted. It was what you wanted too. Taking a bold move, he whispered to you. "Y/N... Are we going to do this?"

With a grin, you moved back up to his lips, kissing him a few times before answering him with a breathless tone. "Seems so."

An aroused growl rumbled in Jotaro's throat and in a fluid motion, he spun you around so that you were now laying on your back, his frame over you. Grabbing the hem of your shirt, Jotaro cautiously pulled it up, looking for any hints of you telling him to stop, but there wasn't anything. Just you grabbing at his own shirt and pulling it over his head. He remembered the last thing Kakyoin said, about the condoms in his nightstand. At the time, Jotaro cursed him for implying that the two of you do this, but now he was thankful. Not wanting to get up from your make-out session, Jotaro used Star Platinum to retrieve them. When Star didn't come back with them, he looked over to his Stand, who had a disappointed look on his face and showed him the box. Seeing what his Stand was pointing out, his face fell too.

"What's the matter?" You asked, noticing Jotaro slowing his advances.

He looked very embarrassed as he sat up on his knees, holding the box in his hands. "I, um, don't think we can do this now..."

"There are none left?"

Jotaro's face got more red. "No, there are some in here, it's just... I don't think they're going to fit..."

"Too big?"

"Too small..."

You shuddered. You kind of guessed he would be big, considering his size. But you had his problem covered. Getting up, you grabbed your bag and looked inside.

"What are you doing?" Jotaro looked over your shoulder and watched you pull out a handful of condoms you had hidden in away inside. His eyes went wide with how many you had.

"Will any of these work? There are a bunch of sizes."

Going through them, he checked. A couple of them would fit him. "You know, I am now very concerned on why you have this many in your bag."

"Calm down, Jotaro." You put the ones he didn't take back into your bag. "It's college, in a sense, it's good for a woman to be prepared. Besides..." Your voice lowered. "I've never had to use them."

Hearing that, Jotaro realized that you had never been with anyone before. What you and him where about to do, was your first time ever. You had waited for him all these years and he waited for you. Neither of you wanting to be with anyone else. Pulling you back to him, he laid you down, his body pressed against yours. "It's my first, too." Kissing you again, he undid the button on your pants. "Let's make up for the times we could have had."

Song I used for inspiration: I’d Rather Be With You by Joshua Radin

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aAJfhZamFmo

[youngerdrgrey]

easy there, oedipus (or, how to get away with impregnating your law professor) [DRAFTS 2]

about: alternatively titled, how to get away with impregnating your law professor and secretly parenting your child; or moments from a fic unwritten, updated and revamped for a season that only feeds into my need for Annalise and Wes to fall into the abyss together. — takes place in season 3

a/n: Drafts from before the show hurt me w/ season three’s finale; shared in case anyone wanted more of the story -- here are some vignettes and headcanons about the story.

.

.

Getting Away With… Annalise and Michaela bonding

At some point in the pregnancy, Annalise gets sick and Wes is there, every night, with her, feeding her, helping her, calling the doctor.

Asher says, “Mommy issues.”

Connor says, “Better him than us.”

.

Michaela brings soup and some magazines one night, but she feels dumb once she gets upstairs. Annalise takes pity on her and tells her to come in the damn room and sit down (Ms. Pratt).

Michaela sits, on the edge, with the soup still in her hands and the potholder in her lap. They sit in silence until Annalise tells her to talk.

“About what?”

“Anything. Except the next exam.”

So, Michaela talks about moving on from Aiden, and how Connor’s still fake going to NA, and how Laurel makes the best cheesecake, even if it’s pity food. How she wishes sometimes that she could’ve just loved someone like Wes because everyone is so lucky to have a guy like him around, and how she hopes that she gets to meet the baby (and she can totally do that even if Annalise doesn’t keep her around so it’s not, like she’s being presumptuous, she swears).

She keeps talking until Annalise drifts off, and Wes comes back and slips onto the edge of the bed like he belongs there. No hesitation. He doesn’t lie down, or get too close, but the ease in his shoulders the moment he sees Annalise -- Michaela leaves.

Leaves and bites on her tongue next time someone brings up Mommy issues.

.

.

Getting Away With... Laurel’s Q&A

Later, when people know, Laurel asks what Wes got out of this — out of a kid that he can’t claim publicly and a woman who will never, ever be his.

He thinks of the way Annalise’s hands shook around the pregnancy test, the tears in her eyes, the unspoken plea for him to let her have this, the thank you on her lips and soon on his before he slid his lips from hers and hung his head so his forehead rested against hers and his breath landed against the tears on her cheek, and he said, “No one can ever know. Can they?”

“We’ll know,” she’d said, as if that was enough, as it no one else in the world even began to matter.

“Another one of our secrets.”

~ In the moment with Laurel, he says that no one’s ever looked prouder of him, no one as thankful and grateful and just happy that he existed. He says it might be messed up to keep a baby to make someone happy, but

Well, it worked.

.

.

Getting Away With… telling everyone

Annalise calls all of them to attention from the bottom of the stairwell. It’s only been a few weeks since she found out, but the way her eyes meet Wes’ tell him everything he needs to know about what this team conversation is about.

Everyone shifts as she walks closer. She stops on the rug she bought to replace the one Sam got rolled up in.

“Now, normally, I wouldn’t bother telling you all something like this, but it will affect the way I work and therefore affect all of you as well.”

She unclasps her hands from where they’ve been hanging in front of her and places them both on her stomach. Wes can hear the squeak of a gasp that comes from Michaela and feels the shift in the couch as Laurel leans in closer.

“I’m pregnant,” Annalise says, “and I will do my best to keep everything the same around here. I’ll have more appointments, but you’ll have Bonnie whenever I can’t be here. Any questions?”

Her eyes scan their faces. Michaela’s jaw looks slightly unhinged. Laurel looks pensive. 

Asher narrows his eyes and asks, “Who’s the father?”

All eyes whip to him as Annalise bristles. 

“If I’d meant for you to know, I would’ve told you. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She heads for her office.

The rest of the team wait for the doors to slide closed before throwing pillows and hissing, “Asher!”

“What, it’s an honest question!”

Connor ignores him, turning in his chair to face the other three of the group, especially Michaela. “Can you believe Mom’s replacing us?”

Michaela rolls her eyes. “God, Connor, don’t call her that.” He shrugs. She goes on, “And Annalise isn’t replacing anyone. A baby can’t practice law.”

“Ten bucks says that kid grows up just like us,” Connor says.

Wes imagines their kid will be different. He could see his kid as a toddler, tossing papers out of boxes on the floor and crawling inside to make his own little court room. Wes could play fake judge, or fake jury, if all the stuffed animals will let him join.

Michaela claps her hand in Connor’s, bringing Wes back to the moment.

“You’re on,” she says. “No one wants to be their parents.”

Asher scoffs. “Hey.”

“Sorry, no one interesting wants to be their parents.”

Asher glowers and corrects, “Parent. She’s totes going in solo since Nate’s gone MIA.”

“It’s not Nate’s,” Wes says. It gets quiet, and eyes snap to him -- three sets, equal parts guilty and worried. He clears his throat, schools his voice. “The timing’s off. She should’ve been showing a while ago if it was Nate’s.”

Asher shrugs. “She has been gaining weight. I didn’t want to say anything before, but—“

Everyone’s glaring at him. He stops. Laurel rolls her eyes.

“She’d probably tell us if we asked. We’ve known worse secrets.”

Connor scoffs. “She bit his head off ten seconds ago, Einstein.”

Laurel scoffs right back. “Not who, genius; when.”

Michaela nods. “You’re right. And we kind of deserve to know anyway since when she’s due will affect when classes are cancelled. If we have to take breaks in our case load, if—“

“She’s gonna be a raging bitch for finals.”

“Asher!”

He throws his hands in the air. “Legitimate question! Again!”

And he’s right, to some degree. Her emotions will be changing for sure. Her due date’s not right for finals though. It’ll be next school year actually, and Wes’ll be someone else’s student, and — everybody’s staring at him.

Wes fidgets. “What? Why’re you looking at me?”

“You’re the favorite,” Connor says.

“If anyone’s gonna ask…” Michaela tries to smile.

Laurel sighs. “We could all try, together, but studies show: you’re the one she trusts the most.”

Wes bounces in his seat before getting up and heading to the office. He knocks. Bonnie opens it, sees him, and sighs.

“It’s not a good time,” Bonnie says.

“I get that. I just have a question. We all do,” Wes says.

Bonnie glances at the others. “Stop conspiring and get back to work.”

The others look down. Wes rolls his shoulders.

“You gonna let me through?”

She does.

He gets to Annalise whose face looks like it does around one of her vomiting spells. Shit, is that why it’s not a good time? He should leave then, shouldn’t he? He already knows when she’s due, and he can just go tell them the answer without asking.

Only, he has a really good excuse to be in here, and he doesn’t get many of those, and there’s so much that he wants to say and ask, so he clears his throat.

Her eyes snap up — wide and alarmed — but they flatten out once she notices who it is.

“Mr. Gibbins.” A warning dressed like a greeting. Definitely not a good time. But she did just tell everyone she’s having his baby, so she doesn’t get to send him away just yet.

The door’s still cracked; Bonnie’s right there and is no doubt listening in since Annalise hasn’t dismissed her yet.

Wes gets closer, to the desk, staying on his side though. “You don’t look so good.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

“I just meant — sorry, I —“ suck at this dad thing already. He frowns. “Do you need anything?”

“It would be nice if I could keep my lunch down, but I’m not getting picky.”

He almost groans. Of course Annalise would stand strong through morning sickness. She’ll stand strong through it all — the cravings, the swelling, the mood swings and near insatiable appetite for se—

“Wes?”

“Huh?”

“I asked, why are you in here?”

“Right. Sorry. Again.” He scratched the back of his head. “We all — well, they, not that I’m not also curious, but when is the baby due?”

Annalise looks confused a moment, then she tells him, “October 23rd.”

He shouldn’t feel pride at the sound of that. It’s a date — a bunch of letters and numbers. It’s not a baby. It’s not something to smile about. Yet, his cheeks burn just the same.

“Right before Halloween,” he says. “You’ll have to dress them up.”

“Them?” she repeats, eyes widening back.

He scrambles out. “Gender neutral pronoun, not saying you’re having twins.” Unless… “Are you?”

“I certainly hope not. I’ve already got my hands full with everyone out there. I don’t need two more lives to protect.”

He winds around a pen on her desk. He can’t look at her while he says, “You wouldn’t be alone.”

The air gets really still, like no one anywhere in the house wants to move or even begin to dissect the almost hesitantly wistful way he’d said that sentence.

“I figured.” Annalise shifts in her seat, and her voice comes out stronger, more assured and planned. “You don’t think I’m paying for a nanny when I’ve got capable interns, do you?”

A groan’s heard from the living room. Wes finds a way to breathe again, turns his next exhale into an almost laugh.

“Just make sure Michaela takes off her ring first.”

It’s not funny, but he laughs just the same. Annalise too.

(In the living room, Michaela pouts, and maybe this won’t have to be so hard. Maybe, somehow, they can make this work.”)

.

.

Getting Away With... Financial Support

A week after Wes agrees to keep their secret, Annalise gives him some money. He starts freaking out, like “Why are you doing this?” and he low-key accuses her of trying to buy his silence.

Well, not low-key.

He’s like, “What — you don’t want me to tell anyone and now you’re giving me money? That’s not the way this works. I’m not gonna tell anyone like it hurts all of us.”

Annalise bristles. “How could you even think I would do something like that?” She knew that his loan still wasn’t going through. (She had Frank check.) She wanted to make sure that he got the chance to stick around. For all of them.

And it’s his turn to be like, “Oh.” Fuck. “Annalise—“

“Save it. Either take the money or don’t. Spare me your apologies. You can think the worst of me all you’d like.”

“It’s not— I’m sorry.” He stresses it. “No one outside of my family has ever helped me without wanting something in return.” He steps closer but not close enough to touch her. “I’m no good at saying thank you.”

She barely softens, but she does. “You better learn soon. I’m not really the type to sit on my hands.”

“Noted.”

She looks a moment longer, then goes back to her files. “You may go.”

He lingers, heads for the door, pauses. “Thank you.”

She grins (not that he looks to see). “You’re welcome.”

.

.

Getting Away With... Mama Harkness’ Return

Mama Harkness watches him a moment too long. He shifts. She shakes her head.

“What’s so special about you?” He’s a bit confused. “Lord knows this wasn’t the only time Anna slept with someone she shouldn’t.”

He sputters. “I — ma’am, you—“

“You gon’ lie to me, boy?”

Beat. “No, ma’am.”

“Thought so. Now, I’m not telling nobody what I know. I just want you to know that I know it. And I’m watching you. You hear me?”

.

.

Getting Away With... Names and Michaela Finding Out

Connor calling little man bible verses, like “316, how you been, buddy?”

Laurel calls him Matt.

Michaela calls him Matthew and tells him to grow into it and respect it because nicknames don’t do anything but allow us to hide from our full potential.

Wes calls him kid a lot.

.

At another time, when something’s wrong with the baby, they all rush to the hospital. Wes tries to get in the room, in full intense Dad mode, but Connor catches him by the shoulders. Says, “Easy there, Oedipus, you can’t go in there.”

Michaela snaps at Connor for being insensitive when they’re all worried. Connor slips up and mutters, “But it’s their baby so, ugh.”

Michaela repeats it, “Their baby.” Then again, as Connor’s, Laurel’s, and Wes’ eyes all go wide. She sputters, and everything just clicks. “My God.”

“Michaela—“

“He’s —”

Wes shakes his head. “I don’t have time for this.” Storms off to try and get into the room.

Michaela slaps Connor’s arm, hard as shit. “How long have you known?”

“A couple weeks—“

“WEEKS?”

“But I couldn’t tell you—“

“You tell me everything! You told me when you changed your toothpaste!”

“This wasn’t my secret to tell.”

She gets that, she really does, it just sucks finding out so late. Annalise is struggling to hold on, baby Matthew’s got heart problems, and — “Oh, God, Wes.” He must be a mess.

.

.

.

Getting Away With... Keeping the Baby?

So, they reach a point where Annalise finds out that basically keeping the baby in longer could kill her. They’re at the hospital, and Wes is in the room when they hear the news. The doctors leave them alone to process, and Annalise is speechless.

Wes tries to find some words. He tells her that he — well, he doesn’t know what to do, or say. He’s finally maybe on the right track with Annalise towards something they can have and sustain, and now the baby’s really sick and Annalise could die?

He clears his throat and says, “I want to be here. I do. I just....”

And she gets him. Tells him, “Get some air. I’ll get some here.” 

He nods and he almost chokes on whatever it is inside of him. He says, “Five minutes. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Then he rushes the fuck out of there.

.

Michaela and Connor come in together. They saw Wes run off, and Laurel went after Wes, but it’s Michaela and Connor who go in to see Annalise first.

Michaela can’t really form words right away.

Connor says, “Look, we really kinda need our jobs, and your house, and... you. You’re not like our mom or anything, but we need you too.”

Michaela squeaks in agreement, and then she says that if anyone could get through this, it would be Annalise. “Whatever you decide, we will stand by you. It’s what you’ve trained us to do.”

Annalise tells them to get it together or get out. They hug her. She tries not to cry.

.

Bonnie and Frank want her to let the baby go, but they also know she won’t, so they’re making plans and schedules on who will be monitoring her, and when and for how long. They immediately make plans and deals with nurses to reserve a bed in the NICU for the baby.

.

Wes literally goes outside and starts wailing on dumpsters and screaming. 

Laurel mentions that they should invest in soundproof rooms at hospitals for this purpose. She reminds him that he freaked out less when Sam died than now.

He tells her that this has to be karma. This is what happens when you kill a woman’s husband and then get her pregnant. “God laughs at you. He gives you everything you could have possibly imagined. He gives you the possibility of having a family, a real one that will support you and care for you and foster you into who you’re meant to be. And then just when it seems like maybe everything’s going to work out, He rips them away from you.”

Laurel says, “Wes, it’s not karma —“

“It is! I did this! I killed her.”

“You didn’t—“

His finger jams into his chest so hard that she fears he’s gonna break it. “I got her pregnant. I gave her this hope. And now she’s gonna die. Because of me.”

“Because her heart’s overworked.”

“No, because I protected Rebecca instead of —“

“Instead of what? Letting Sam kill her? Listen to yourself.”

“I can’t! I can’t even think right now. I should be in there with her, comforting her, saying whatever it is she needs to hear to make the right decision and save herself over this baby. Only… only…”

He has tears in his eyes, and Laurel understands why.

“You want the baby.”

A tear slips out, and Wes groans. “I want her so badly.”

.

They decide to go with Bonnie and Frank’s plan -- have the baby but stay on top of everything. They’ve lost enough people in this life, and they’re not losing anyone else.

.

.

[this-that-and-every-thing-else]

Superman’s Kingdom: Spawns of Satan

A/N: So I came to realize that there is very little Goonies fan fiction out there and even less revolving around Brand. So, I’m starting this series revolving around him and his family. I feel like this one really started out strong but got less and less as I went so I do apologize for that. This is the most I’ve written in well over a year. If anyone would like to be tagged in the series, feel free to let me know.  I may do a part 2 for this specific story if people want it. 

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: Brand has been away for two weeks on a business trip and his wife Sadie is left alone and pregnant to look after their normally well-behaved children...this time they’ve managed to turn themselves into the Spawns of Satan. 

Warnings: None really...its fluffy, some minor child annoyance. 

Sadie Walsh was a patient woman. She had no problem with waiting in lines, she had no problem waiting for food at a restaurant or waiting at the doctor’s office. She didn’t even mind waiting to go out if her husband was watching a football game. What she didn’t have patience for, were her children misbehaving in the grocery store. She was very close to losing her cool. Her normally well behaved children had somehow been replaced with the spawn of Satan. Bryon, her normally adorable youngest, was currently running circles around his 5-month pregnant mother, while her oldest, Mikey, was trying for the fourth time to add candy to their cart even though he’d been told that he couldn’t have any. Yes, they had truly turned into little monsters these past few days.

Sadie took a deep breath and turned to Mikey. “Take the candy out of the cart. I told you no three times already.”

Mikey, looking up at his mother with a defiant glint in his eye, reached out to the shelf, grabbed a random bag of candy, and proceeded to toss it into the cart. “What did I just say Mikey? No. Candy! How many times do I have to tell you?”  She was very close to just leaving the cart in the middle of the aisle and going home. Then again…they’d have no food for dinner tonight if she did that.

“But I want it! I want it and I want it now!” Mikey whined, stamping his feet and his face turning red. Sadie closed her eyes, counted down from ten and wondered who took her sweet 9-year-old and turned him into a 2-year-old demon.  “Mikey, enough! You are 9 years old! Act your age! Now, take the candy out of the cart, if I have to tell you again you’ll be grounded and won’t be going to camp next week. Understood?”

Mikey huffed, stomped his foot once, but reached into the cart and removed the candy. Sadie sighed, hoping that this was the end of the issues for the day. The sound of breaking glass broke ended that though very quickly. Sadie looked towards the end of the aisle where Bryon was standing, looking down at a pile of glass and what looked to be jam seeping onto the tiled floor. Bryon looked up at his mother and then back at the mess. Thinking he was in bigger trouble than he actually was, he burst into tears.  Not softly crying either, full on, large tears, snot running down his face and chest wracking sobs as if the world was ending. Yes, Sadie was losing her patience.

Sadie sighed, and proceeded to try to pick up her crying son, struggling to do so with her slight baby bump in the way, but eventually succeeding. She sat him in the cart and headed to the checkout where she continued to comfort her son and offered to pay for the broken jar. Thankfully the cashier was understanding and declined the offer. Small miracles do happen. She fought her way to her car, with one child still crying and the other trying to run into traffic. She quickly got them into the back seat and the groceries in the trunk before getting in the car herself and taking a moment to breath. Bryon was finally calm and Mikey was playing with whatever action figure he had left in the car.

The drive home would only take her 20 minutes, 20 minutes that she hoped would be peaceful. She must not have hoped enough because as soon as she turned out onto the road, the boys began fighting. Bryon wanted to play with Mikey’s toys, even though he had some of his own. Mikey wasn’t having any of that and now there was a full on tug of war in her back seat with two screaming children. Maybe if she ignored them long enough they’d stop…

Just as she was a block away from their home, Sadie heard the tell-tale sound of a hand connecting with skin, hard. With it came the pained screams of her youngest. Gritting her teeth, she pulled over to the side of the road, unbuckled her seatbelt and turned around to face her children. Bryon was holding a tiny hand on his face, with fat tears rolling down it and an angry red mark peeking out behind his hand. Mikey had his arms crossed and was glaring at his brother.

“Brandon Michael Walsh! You do NOT hit your brother! How would you like it if someone went around hitting you? Apologize right now.” Sadie was at the end of her rope. Her back hurt, her feet hurt, she was getting a headache and her children were being holy terrors. Thank god Brand was returning home tonight.  

“But Mama he tried taking my army man! I don’t want him to have it!” The 9-year-old was now starting to sniffle, knowing very well that he was in big trouble.  “Then use your words! It won’t hurt you to share with your brother. When we get home you are going straight to your room until dinner. After dinner you’re going right to bed. Do you understand me? I’ve had it with your nonsense today, both of you!”

With that, she turned back in her seat, buckled her seatbelt and carefully pulled back out onto the road and heading home. Thankfully, they pulled into their driveway two minutes later with no more incidents. Mikey was sulking with his arms crossed, and Bryon was rubbing at his face, glaring at his big brother.

Getting out of the car, Sadie had both of the boys grab a bag or two of groceries, while she grabbed the rest. The kids had waited on the porch for her to unlock the door. Once she had, they dropped the bags in the kitchen and headed for the living room, Bryon grabbing his Lego and Mikey turning on the television. Sadie sighed and shook her head, clearly the message hadn’t gotten across.

“Mikey, turn that off and go to your room, I told you that you would be staying there and I meant it. Bryon, I think you need to go down for a nap, head on upstairs and hop into bed, I’ll be up in a minute.” Thankfully for Sadie, with the exception of Mikey huffing, they both listened and headed on upstairs to their bedrooms.

Sadie dropped the groceries off in the kitchen and made her way upstairs to check on the kids. Mikey was sitting on his bed with a book in his hands. She was okay with that, if he was being quiet, she was happy. Bryon was lying in bed as he was asked and was curled up on his side. Sadie pulled down his blinds and read him a quick story to help him fall asleep, which thankfully didn’t take long.  With both kids taken care of she was more than happy to make her way downstairs to put the groceries away…and then hopefully get to put her feet up, although she should start thinking about getting dinner ready.

When she finally got to sit, she did so in Brand’s favourite chair, curling her feet under herself and tipping her head back with her eyes closed and wishing he were here already. She couldn’t wait for Brand to get home that night. His presence these passed two weeks was sorely missed. The first week hadn’t been bad, the kids had behaved, looking forward to phone calls from their father every night, asking him all about Texas, was it as hot as they say? Was everything reallybigger there? Was the gym almost ready to open? When was he coming home? Did he buy them anything? The questions went on and on until he’d tell them to go to bed and he’d ‘read’ them their favourite book over the phone…because he was super dad and had it memorized. There’s a reason she called him her Superman…so many reasons actually.

The second week? It seemed like all hell had broken loose. He wasn’t able to call as much, the kids were constantly fighting, and Sadie was tired, she was sore, and she missed her husband. She never slept very well without him and he was a godsend when it came to the kids. She got lucky with him, he was very hands on with the kids both in keeping them busy, healthy and when they were sick he was right there, ready and willing to take on clean up, staying up all night and whatever else was thrown at him. And when the kids were misbehaving? He put on his stern face and made sure they knew why they were wrong in what they were doing, why they were being punished and just all around made sure they understood. He’d never been gone this long and it was taking its toll, on both the kids and herself. But, he had to be there to oversee the opening of the newest Walsh Fitness facility, it was only the third location to be opening and the first out of state.

The stress of the day, well really the last two weeks, caught up with her and instead of relaxing she found herself starting to cry a little. Overwhelmed, emotional and in need of a nap of her own, she was unable to stop herself. Later, she’d chalk it up to the pregnancy hormones, but for the moment she let herself cry it out.  Normally, Brand would be right by her side, taking a lot of the load off of her, sometimes it scared her how much she relied on her husband, but that’s what marriage was about, sharing the burdens, the highs, the lows, and of course loving each other unconditionally. But without him and their children being tiny little…well, assholes? Yeah, she was just a little emotional and deserved a bit of a cry.

The crying didn’t last long; she couldn’t let it last long to be honest. One of the kids could catch her and then they’d be upset, plus she didn’t want to look horrible when Brand got home. Lord knows that when she cries she ends up looking like a mess. So, once she got it out of her system she turned the television on, it was some kid’s movie, but that was fine, it wasn’t like she didn’t usually end up watching that anyway with the kids.

Surprisingly she found herself sucked into the plot, it may have been for kids, but damn, Disney was good and she couldn’t deny it if she tried. She got so into the movie however that she didn’t notice the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, or the front door being opened and someone kicking off their shoes. Nor did she hear the sound of a gym bag being dropped on the floor by the staircase. She did however hear the creak of the floorboard next to her as Brand came into her line of vision, coming around the chair to kneel down in front of her.

Before he could even speak she launched herself at him with a squeal of delight, finding a burst of energy somewhere within the depths. Her arms wrapped around his neck in a fierce hug as his wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as she toppled them over and onto the floor. Murmuring a quick hello and an ‘I missed you,’ Brand slid a hand up from her waist, brushing her bump and over her breasts before cupping her neck and pulling her down for a much needed kiss. God he’d missed this.

Breaking away after a few moments Brand was more than happy to just stare at his wife. His wife who had clearly been crying at some point and looked utterly exhausted. He cupped her face, rubbing his thumb along her cheek. “You look awfully tired for someone who said she was doing just fine Princess.” Sadie leaned into his touch, almost nuzzling his hand like a dog or cat would.

“I’m okay Superman, honestly, I may have almost killed your children today though.”  He frowned a bit, sitting them both upright but staying on the floor. With her arms wrapped around his shoulders and his around her waist, she told him what all went on this week with the children, from the attitudes to the near constant fighting and her just being tired and sore in general. The baby was certainly sapping her energy and taking care of the boys by herself clearly hadn’t helped. He felt horrible for leaving her alone, but he did have an idea to help her relax a little.

“Tell you what darlin’, why don’t you go on upstairs, get in a nice bath and just relax. I’m gonna ship the kids off to my parents or Mikey, get dinner started and we’ll have a weekend to ourselves. Just you, me and the bump.” Sadie just closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his and nodded with a smile. That sounded like a fantastic idea to her. Why she hadn’t thought of asking her in laws to take the kids in the first place she didn’t know. She’d blame that on pregnancy brain. The doctor said that might happen, and it had with the other two.

Speaking of doctors…

“Before I head on upstairs, I had that ultrasound appointment the other day.” Sadie was excited to tell him about this one, they’d wanted to find out the gender of this baby, just like they had the others and while she had wanted Brand to be there, well he had to work and he’d told her to go right ahead and she could tell him when he got home. Though, since there had been no girls born into the family for a few generations, it seemed like there was no reason to check, still they both agreed it would be good to know for sure.

“And? What’s the verdict?” He was looking at her with such anticipation on his face and was almost bouncing on the spot. She couldn’t hold back a grin.

“We broke the curse; you Superman must have super sperm because you’ve got yourself a little girl on the way.”

His eyes widened and he broke out in a huge grin, pulling her close once again and into a deep kiss, yes, he was definitely a happy man.

[ghostbustermelanieking]

noise echoing (part two of two)

sequel to silent conversations, season 11 au, part one

my depiction of msiv had to be pretty heavily altered because of the fact that the entirety of msiv is about looking for jackson, which isn’t actually an issue here, so. some scenes and scenarios stayed the same. warning for violence.

Life returns to normal again. They watch William a little closer, but he seems to be genuinely remorseful for scaring them, with no intention of ever doing it again. They don't talk about it more than they need to. William has apparently inherited his mother's ability to not talk about things, and Mulder and Scully are more than happy to not relive those three terrifying days.

Life is good, even. William hangs out with friends occasionally, but he spends most of his summer holed up in his room reading or watching Netflix, or out in the woods with the dogs. Scully spends the summer writing a series of medical journals, and Mulder pecks away at a book he's been saying he's going to finish for years. They take X-Files where they can find them nearby. They break their rule only once: when Skinner disappears for a few days in the fall. Mulder is hesitant, even with the monster tease in Skinner's apartment; he doesn't want to leave William. Scully says, “It's Skinner, Mulder,” and that's really all it takes to convince him. William spends the next few nights at Jordan's house while Mulder and Scully hunt their boss down in Kentucky.

“I'm glad you went,” William says after it's all over. “I like Skinner. He definitely does way more for you guys than any normal boss. And besides, it sounds like he really needed your help.”

“Mr. Skinner,” Mulder says at the same time as Scully, in that mocking tone that makes her glare. She's been correcting William on that ever since he started imitating Mulder at age three, which Mulder has always found absolutely hilarious and William followed suit. They share a smirk across the dinner table. “I agree, Will,” says Scully, giving them both a stern look that relays exactly what she thinks of their comments. “But I don't know how much help we ended up being. Your father fell into the hole instead of getting Skinner out of it.”

“Mr. Skinner, Scully,” Mulder says playfully. “And besides, that wasn't my fault, I was blindsided. You're the one who left him in the hole!”

Scully jabs the fork at him. “He told me to go, Mulder, we were in pursuit of the suspect! And besides that, he was injured.”

“Exactly,” Mulder says. “Exactly why you should've gotten him out and tended to him.”

“He got himself out,” Scully says defensively. “Exactly why I think he could've handled it himself. I mean, who knows what would have happened if we hadn't come… but Skinner was very capable on his own.” Mulder makes a face at her, clinking his fork against hers like a sword.

“Wait, wait, wait,” says William, pointing his fork at the both of them. “You left your boss in a hole? After he'd been impaled?”

“It was circumstantial, William,” Scully says mildly.

He laughs, swishing his fork around his plate. “How have you guys not been fired yet?”

“I've asked myself that question every day for over twenty-five years, son,” Mulder says. “This isn't even the worst we've done, as a collective.” Scully swats his shoulder with a napkin.

William faces his junior year head on, with loads of homework and the fear of the ACT looming. Mulder and Scully look for any trails from the men who came for William over the summer, but there are none. The leads have dried up. They are all waiting for the day that someone will send people after their son again, but that day seems far off and distant. They remain on edge, keeping their guns in their bedside table and jumping at unexpected sounds, and the paranoia never fades as 2017 turns to 2018. An incident resulting from a birthday dinner for Scully leaves them even more on edge, with a series of drones coming to the property and an automated vacuum trying to set the house on fire. It's quickly figured out that the attack is a result of Mulder not tipping at the robot sushi place they go to, which culminates in William stealing Mulder’s phone and tipping before the house gets burned down. The three of them bicker over whether or not Mulder’s typical cheapness caused the attack, whether or not it is unwise to go to a robot sushi restaurant, and other fun targets as they clean up the house once again. (“Your jobs are ruining our home,” William says sourly as he sweeps up broken glass. “This,” Scully says sternly, jabbing a finger at him, “had nothing to do with our jobs.” “But it was an X-File,” Mulder adds, dropping a mangled drone in a garbage bag. “Shut up,” Scully and William snap in unison.)

Life is normal. Aside from the expected paranoia and surprise visits by an army of drones, life is normal. Life is normal until it isn't.

---

In the spring, William starts having nightmares again. Scully is startled out of sleep one night by the sound of him crying out from his bedroom. On instinct alone, she climbs out of bed and rushes to his room, finds him only asleep, tangled up in the blankets and tugging at the sheets like when he had bad dreams as a child. Fed raises his head from the pillow to give her a sad look.

“William.” She shakes his shoulder to try and rouse him. “Will, wake up.”

His eyes fly open, as dark as Mulder’s in the dimly lit room. Scully wishes she could remember when they turned from the clear blue of her mother's to this dark color, but she cannot.

“Mom,” he mutters, struggling to sit up. He reaches out and scratches Fed on top of the head. “Did I wake you up? Sorry.” He sounds sheepish, apologetic. Mulder's son through and through.

“Will, are you okay?” Scully asks, straightening the comforter on his bed. “Did you… see something?”

His face stony serious, he nods. “It's starting,” he says. “Soon, it's starting. And we need to be ready. We need to stop my grandfather before it all ends.”

---

When they come for him, they come when he's at school. He didn't see that one coming. He never sees the important things anymore.

A part of William is relieved. It's easier to blindly protect people here.

He's walking to class with his friends, laughing and talking about the end of school and finals and their upcoming senior year when he remembers he left his book on the wall outside, where they had sat and eaten their lunch. “I'll be right back,” he says, and breaks away from the cluster, pushing through the busy hallway towards the doors to the outside. When he gets there, he finds two men dressed in black suits and sunglasses. One is holding his book. The other has a corner of his jacket lifted to show off his gun.

“You'll want to come with us, kid,” says the guy with the book.

“And you'll want to come quietly,” says the guy with the gun. “Or we’ll make sure each and every one of your friends in there have a bullet in your skull. And then, before we hit the road? We'll pay a visit to your home and do the same to your parents.”

William goes. He's terrified, but he goes, because what the hell else can he do? He can't let them hurt the people he cares about. He steps closer to them and feels the gun jab hard into his side; a huge hand closes down on his shoulder, guiding him towards the car. He's praying that someone will see, will help, but no one does.

He's already forming a plan in his mind: how to overpower them as soon as they're far enough away, how to telepathically contact his parents, but as soon as they get into the big black car, the book guy pins him to the seat with his overlarge hand.

“We were warned about your powers,” says the gun guy. “Don’t worry; we have a remedy for that.”

And the needle slides into William's neck, a cloud of drugs overtaking him before he can fight back.

---

When Monica Reyes shows up at their office, Scully's first instinct is to be confrontational. The first thing she sees is red-hot rage. All she can think of is that Monica took her son in her vision. Monica, who helped bring him into the world. She's barely even in the door before Scully is out of her seat, gun aimed.

Monica's hands fly in the air. “Whoa, Scully,” Mulder is saying, hand flying to her shoulder.

“Mulder, you remember what we saw,” she hisses, not looking away from her. “What she did.”

“You know,” Monica says. It's not a question. She does not look afraid; she does have guilt on her face. Just a touch of it.

“I saw what you do when the world is ending,” Scully says, her hand wrapping hard around the gun. “What you do to my son.”

“Dana, you need to listen to me,” Monica says slowly, sincerely. “It's not what you think. I'm here to help you.”

“Scully, maybe we should listen to her,” Mulder says, a hand hovering over her shoulder. “She can't have Will, he's still at school.” His voice is lined with uncertainty, though; they have lost the luxury to say, He's just at school, and believe it.

“I don't have William,” Monica says, but Scully can hear the but in her tone. She hesitates a moment, her hands quivering in the air.

“Who has William?” Scully asks, and God help her, her voice is shaking. (Not again, she pleads, not again, not again.)

Monica sighs, bowing her head slightly. “It's Erika Price and her associates,” she says. “They were disappointed that Mulder had never made serious on his claims of killing his father. They hope that Spender's love for the boy will give them their opportunity. That they can lure him there and take care of him for good.”

Mulder makes a small sound full of fear beside her. Scully's hands are shaking, but she carefully lowers the gun a few millimeters. “And why are you here?” she snaps carefully.

“Because years of infiltrating the fucking Syndicate once I found out Spender was still alive has taught me one thing,” Monica snaps. “These people—both branches of them—need to be stopped no matter what. And I want your son to be safe. This is the best chance to make sure of all of these things.”

Scully sets the gun down flat on the table, presses her hands into the edge of the table to steady them. “They have William?” Mulder asks in a quivering voice.

“Yes.” Monica is giving them a look full of apology. “I am so sorry. But I can assure you that they won't hurt him. They want him unharmed.”

“Oh, great,” Mulder snaps. “That's so comforting. What happens after Spender is dead, when they don't need him anymore?”

“Do you know where he is?” Scully says, her ears rushing with white noise. “Will you take us to him?”

“Of course, Dana,” Monica says with a great deal of apology in her voice. “I want this to be over just as much as you do. I'm sorry it ever happened in the first place.”

Scully's fingers twitch, itching to grab her gun. She wants to shoot someone, to hurt the people who hurt her son. “Will you wait outside for a second, Monica?” she says sharply. “I need to talk to Mulder for a minute.”

Monica meets her eyes sincerely, nods her head and steps outside the door, closing it behind her.

As soon as the door is closed, Mulder grabs his phone and dials William's number. “Mulder,” Scully tries, reaching for his shoulder and squeezing it. Trying to comfort him. “Mulder, if he's in school, he's not going to answer…”

“He'll answer,” Mulder says, gripping the phone hard and putting it up to his ear. “He'll answer if he sees it's me. He knows…” His voice falters, trails off, and he clutches the phone harder.

“Mulder, I think she's telling the truth,” Scully says shakily, as much as she hates to admit it. “I think we have to go with her. I think that might be the only way to end this.”

“Damn it!” Mulder slams the phone down on the desk. “Voicemail. Goddamnit.”

“Mulder.” A tear slips out of her eye; she wipes it away impatiently. She wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Mulder, please.”

“Let me call the school. Just let me call the school.” He wipes his eyes, his nose. He's not looking at her. “Scully, we have to know for sure before we go with her. We have to know that we can trust her. Just let me call the school. I have to know if he's there.”

Scully's throat is sore, clogged up. She nods. Mulder picks up the phone and starts dialing. Scully steps away, straightening her jacket. She wipes her face again, steps out of the office where Monica Reyes is waiting.

She's standing against a pile of boxes, arms crossed over her chest, an unlit cigarette between two fingers. “How did you know?” she asks.

Scully leans against the opposite wall, sniffles before answering. “How did I know what?”

“That I was working with Spender.”

Scully clears her throat before answering, carefully. “Well, you dropped off the radar when you and Doggett got the X-Files taken away. That was one indication. But I knew for sure after… after William and I had a shared vision. Of the contagion. What happened when Spender released it. I sent William with you to keep him safe, because I… because I still trusted you.” She inhales sharply. “But you took him to the smoker.” She wipes her face again with a trembling hand. “So. That's how I knew.”

Monica swallows nervously. “Dana, listen,” she says. “I know it might be hard to believe, but I was telling the truth. I'm a double agent. I have been ever since William was a baby. Ever since I found out Spender was still alive.” She takes an uncertain breath. “I wanted to tell you, but I knew it would blow my cover,” she says. “I never thought it would take this long. It took me fifteen years to figure out their plan, and two years to try and stop it.”

Scully nods. She can feel her stomach turning over on itself, the burn of bile at the back of her throat, and as nausea overtakes her, she runs for the bathroom. The door slams behind her as she bends over the toilet, retching. “Dana?” Monica is pounding on the door. “Dana, it's okay. We're going to find him and he'll be okay. This will all be over soon, and you can go back to your lives…”

She clutches the toilet bowl with both hands, knuckles turning white with the strength of her grip. She's shaking, quivering on her knees on the tile floor. Tears drip off the end of her nose. She's so cold. Will, she thinks desperately. Will, please, can you hear me, please answer. Please. There is no answer. She rests her head against the porcelain bowl, breathing hard.

When she exits the bathroom, Monica is waiting for her, mournful look on her face. “Dana, I'm sorry,” she says. She reaches out and touches Scully's elbow. “I should have told you years ago. Are you okay?”

Scully nods. She offers a small smile, the biggest she can muster, but it fades quickly. Monica squeezes her arms before letting go. Her eyes are sad.

Mulder exits the room, his face white. “They counted him present in homeroom this morning, but I had them check and he wasn't there for his last two classes, and you know Will wouldn't skip class,” he's saying, but then he seems to see her. “Scully, are you okay? You look sick.” He reaches out to touch the side of her face with a gentle hand.

She nods, swallows back the horrible taste in her throat and steadies herself. “I'm fine, Mulder. Let's go get him.”

---

The last time her son was kidnapped, she and Monica drove off to Canada to save him. What followed was a tumultuous series of events in which she thought Mulder was dead, she thought she had to choose between Mulder and William, William indirectly caused the death of his kidnappers, and she thought her son was dead. Monica comforted her as she cried in the ashes, holding William close. She'd told Mulder about it years later, after he came back, when William was completely safe, napping on Mulder's lap with his thumb in his mouth. It hasn't felt real since it happened, a dark fairy story.

This feels real. Her son is gone again, and she and Mulder are blindly following Monica Reyes in an attempt to bring him home. He is older now, able to fight back, but his whereabouts are less mysterious: Scully knows exactly who has him, but has no real idea what their intentions with him are, and she is terrified.

The smoker is in South Carolina, Monica tells them. When they go to tell Skinner, he reacts in a similar way that Scully did, distrusting of Monica. It takes a few more minutes to convince him that Monica is trustworthy, and this largely comes as a result of Mulder snapping at them both angrily. “We don't have time!” he shouts, smacking Skinner's desk with the flat of his hand. “We're wasting time right now. Time my son doesn't have.”

Skinner sighs, removing his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. “Mulder, we may not have time on any front,” he says, ignoring Monica and addressing the two of them. “Kersh is up in arms about some conspiracy you were talking about on the Tad O'Malley show…”

“That was me,” Scully says. Mulder and Skinner both look at her with some surprise; she crosses her arms over her chest tightly. “William saw it coming,” she says. “He said it would start soon. I knew that this was the only way to warn people, by feeding that crackpot information and letting it spread like wildfire.”

Skinner sighs again. “Well, whoever did it, Kersh is ready to shut you both down. He was ready to do it later this evening. You can report William's abduction, but I doubt he'll let you work it…”

“This goes so much further than William, sir,” Scully snaps. “The fate of human civilization could depend on what we do here today.” She looks at Monica out of the side of her eye, who nods. “And besides that,” she adds tightly, “he's our son and I don't give a damn about protocol. We're going for him. And I'd appreciate it if you'd keep it on the down low.”

Skinner looks between the three of them, reluctant. And them he stands, reaching for his gun. “I'm coming with you,” he says.

Scully blinks. “Sir?” she asks, uncertain.

“You're right,” Skinner says. “This is important. And you need backup. I'm coming.”

Scully exchanges a look with Mulder. He looks frightened and relieved all at once. He reaches for her hand, squeezed it briefly. We're coming, she tries, and hopes that William can hear her.

“I'll get us on a flight to South Carolina,” Monica says.

---

When William wakes up, it is to the sound of gunshots. A sound he's entirely too familiar with. His mind is still swimming, his stomach turning, assumedly from the drugs. He turns on his side, curling into a ball. God, he thinks. Oh, god, I hope that isn't anyone I care about getting shot. He lays his head flat on the floor and tries to breathe evenly.

He lets his mind wander, tries to see what he needs to see. He checks on his friends first, makes sure the men told the truth about not hurting them if he came willingly. They're all fine, Jordan and Theresa and Ben, they're fine. He breathes out a sigh of relief, his knees against his stomach. He checks his parents next and finds them on a plane. Headed for him, wherever he is. Skinner sitting in the seat behind them and that woman from his vision, Monica something, across the aisle. His dad sleeping fitfully against his mom's shoulder, making distressed sounds in his sleep. His mom sitting back in the seat, her hand pressed to her stomach like she's nauseous or something. He screws his eyes shut and thinks at her: Mom. Mom, can you hear me?

The vision fades, but he hears his mother's voice, loud and solid in his mind. Will? Oh my god, sweetie, are you okay?

I'm fine.

Oh my god. William, do you know where you are? We're coming to find you.

No, I don't know. I just woke up. I'm sorry. He swallows back the bitter taste of nausea in his throat and tries to sit up. His head spins like a fun house ride.

It's okay. It'll be okay. Will, is anyone there? Are you alone?

I'm alone in the room, but I heard gunshots a few minutes ago. He scoots backwards across the grimy floor, sitting with his back against the wall. He's too tall to sit like this, curled up in a ball like a little kid.

Hang tight, Will, his mother commands. Hold on, we're coming.

---

William isn't sure how long he stays huddling against the wall. The gunshots have been stopped for a while, but he can still hear people moving around in the house. Not close to him. Every now and then, his mother will call his name in his mind and he will answer, I'm here.

And then, the sounds of moving don't seem so far away. There are echoing sounds down the hall, sounds he gradually recognizes as footsteps, and he clenches his teeth. Mom, someone's coming, he says, nearly shouting. He needs her to hear, hopes she is close.

There's no answer. Static in his head. Mom, are you there? he tries. Can you hear me? Mom!

Nothing. It's like there's a block somehow, another presence in his mind, and he fights against it to no avail. There's no connection, and the footsteps grow closer, closer until the door swings open and a man that William has only ever seen in dreams and visions steps in.

I've been eager to meet you, William, says the man who stinks of nicotine, and it takes William a few good minutes to realize that he isn't speaking out loud.

---

“He says that someone is coming,” Scully says in the car as they drive through Spartanburg, her voice full of panic. “Something’s blocking me, I can't say or hear anything else, but the last thing he said was that someone was coming.”

Mulder’s hand clamps around hers. “Monica, do you know where we're going? Do you know where they are?”

“Yes,” Monica says from the driver's seat. “We're twenty minutes away, just hang on.”

Mulder turns to Scully, squeezes his hand. “Can you hear him?” he asks, almost pleading.

She shakes her head. “No, but you know how it is, it doesn't always work. Can you hear him?”

He shakes his head. She lowers her head, hair hiding her face, and he wraps his arms around her briefly. In the front seat, Skinner dutifully ignores them. Monica watches the road.

“We're going to find him,” he says quietly.

“You said that the last time,” she murmurs.

He shakes his head. “This is the last time. I'm ending it now. This is never going to happen again.”

She presses her forehead into his shoulder and he kisses the top of her head. “It's going to be okay,” he says.

She nods. He rubs a hand over her back before pulling away. He reaches for his gun, pulls it out and turns the safety off. He watches Scully reach for her own gun, her hand brushing slowly over her stomach as she goes.

They drive, towards whatever will happen next. The end of the world or the salvation of it. All that seems to matter to Mulder is his son.

---

“What do you want from me?” William snaps, careful to speak out loud as he gets to his feet. He hates this man, has only seen flashes of what he's done to his parents over the years, but he knows he has plenty of reason to hate him.

The man smiles. He stinks of nicotine. “I wanted to meet you,” he says. “To get to know you. To carry on our family legacy.”

William balls his fists in his pockets. “You are not my family,” he spits. He wants nothing to do with this man.

“I'm your grandfather, William,” the man says in a charismatic tone that has William itching to punch him. “And I think you'll find when my plans fall into place that I'll be some of the only family you have left. You and myself and your mother, we'll be some of the sole survivors.”

His vision, nearly two years old, his dying father. William clenches his teeth, snaps his chin with a mind-force behind it that would normally send his target flying. But he finds a sort of resistance, a wall against the force he's sending forth that locks the old man in place. He pushes harder, and the man pushes back with a force that almost sends William to his knees. Blood drips out of one nostril. For a moment, they're locked into a bottle of strength, until William gives out. Weak, he slumps against the wall, wiping blood off his face.

The man—his grandfather—smiles, satisfied. “These parlor tricks won't work on me, my boy,” he says. “Although I know they have worked before for you. My apologies.”

William's eyes narrow, fury building inside him, and in one solid moment, he runs at the man. Telepathically, his grandfather might be stronger, but physically, William outweighs him. He slams into the man like they're playing football, shoves him into the wall. His head cracks against the door frame. William doesn't stay in place for long; he runs past him, feet pounding the floor.

“You won't get very far, my boy!” the smoker calls from behind him, already getting up. There's no way he should be okay after that, William heard the smacking sound of his skull, but he is.

“Like shit,” William hisses through his teeth, running faster. He's going to get out of here. He wants to go home. He's tired of this being his life.

---

The place that Monica takes them to is a sprawling manor house on the edge of a murky green lake. She leads them straight to the front door, uses a key to get them in.

Inside the house, they find several corpses in the front foyer. Men with bullet holes in their foreheads. Mulder’s fingers twitch around the gun as they pass the bodies.

“We'll split up,” Scully says in a low voice. She doesn't think William is dead, but then again, she doesn't know, does she. “You two clear the house. Mulder and I will find William.”

Monica looks like she wants to argue, but Skinner nods wordlessly. They head in opposite directions from the foyer.

Mulder and Scully walk together through the house. They pass a woman in the next room, sitting in an armchair with a similar bullet hole in her forehead. “Erika Price,” Mulder says in a low voice. The woman he met in New York. The woman who Monica said ordered William's abduction.

“If she's dead,” Scully says, her fingers numb and cold around her weapon. “If she's dead, then what happened to William, Mulder?”

Their answer comes too quickly. Gunshots from the direction Skinner and Monica went off in. Pounding footsteps upstairs. Someone is running away.

Their eyes meet briefly, and then they are running too, following their son's footsteps towards the back of the house.

---

The smoker has gotten back on his feet and is in pursuit. William can feel it.

He takes a wrong turn and ends up at a series of glass doors at the end of the hallway. Outside, a balcony. He doesn't think, only pushes through the glass doors and locks them behind him with a look.

Inside the house, he can hear more gunshots. Someone is here, someone is fighting, and he doesn't know if anyone can help him. But he does know one thing: bullets can very easily shatter glass. He isn't any safer out here than in there.

William's eyes scan over the side of the house, his mind racing. He sees the trellis, the white ladder-like thing covered in vines that nearly reaches the ground. He doesn't think, just swings a leg over the railing and balances himself on the trellis. As he lets his weight fall onto it, he digs his fingers hard into the greenery. He begins to climb down it like a ladder. His heart is pounding, pounding. He doesn't think about what he's doing, and once he's only a few feet above the ground, he lets himself drop and composes a silent thank you to Coach Ruthers for making him climb the rope in gym as a kid.

He begins to run again, as far as he can until he hits the edge of the lake, the dock bobbing in the water. He stops at the edge, breathing hard, considering whether or not to swim for it. His parents might be in the house.

And suddenly, he can sense it. His grandfather approaching, calling his name. William can't think straight, so he projects as the first person that comes to his mind. Someone he hopes that his grandfather won't want to kill right away.

“Fox,” his grandfather says when he sees him, as if this is a surprise. Addressing William as his father. “I heard your associates downstairs, but I didn't expect to find you down here.”

William doesn't move, doesn't say anything. Does he not know? he thinks in a panic. Does he not know about the projection? Or does he just want to see Dad? His heart thudding, he starts to move away until he sees the gun pointed at him.

“You really don't give up, do you?” says the smoker, cocking his gun. “But then, you have so much to lose. It's what we have in common.”

“We have nothing in common,” William hisses in his father's voice.

“I need the boy,” the smoker says, and William's skin crawls. He's drawing closer, gun aimed at him. William backs up, closer to the edge of the lake. “The boy is mine. My grandson, my successor in the future ashes of the earth.”

“The boy would rather die first,” William snarls, and he would, if he had to choose, but he really doesn't want to die. He's scanning behind the smoker, hoping that his parents are inside. Mom, can you hear me? he tries. Dad?

“You have no right to the boy,” the smoker says. “He may be your son, but he exists because of me. You and your Scully have me to thank. And now your time with him has ended, I'm afraid.” He raises the gun.

William's heart is thudding so hard he can hear it. He considers dropping the projection. Reconsiders, tries another approach. “You'd shoot your firstborn son?

“Shot my second-born son once,” his grandfather says with a hint of satisfaction. “But I need you to know, Fox, when I gave you life, I never fathomed the moment would come when I would need to end it.”

“I don't think you can do it,” William says, trying to play his cards right, trying to get out of this. This was such a stupid plan, he should have jumped, or screamed for help. He doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to die. Mom, he thinks, desperate. Mom, Dad, help me, I'm out here. I need help, please.

“Then you don't know me very well,” says his grandfather, and shoots.

---

Scully sees the smoker going down the stairs, out the door. He doesn't see them. He's going for William, she thinks, grips Mulder’s sleeve and tugs. He sees what she's looking at, nods. They follow him, staying back far enough so that he doesn't see them.

The smoker gets outside before they do. They hang back, watching him from around a corner, when Scully hears the clock of a gun at the back of their heads. “Drop your weapons,” the man behind them says evenly.

Their guns clatter as they hit the ground. They raise their hands together, exchanging nervous looks; Mulder’s eyes are dark back and forth from her to the doors where Spender exited. Scully feels a flickering of irritation in her mind, annoyance and fear; We don't have time for this, she wants to scream, our son needs us.

“Keep your hands in the air and turn around,” the man says. They obey, shoulders against the wall. The man smirks at them like a jack-o'-lantern. “The famous Agents Mulder and Scully,” he says smugly. “Funny meeting you here.”

“Where is my son?” Mulder hisses through his teeth. “What did you do to him?”

“That's not your concern now,” says the man. “I have orders to shoot you—” He prods the side of Mulder’s face with the barrel of his gun, and Scully grits her teeth, furious, ready to tell this man apart. “—on sight. So I think you should just come with me, and…”

The back of the man's head explodes in a mess of blood. They both jump at the loud sound of the gunshot. When the man falls, they can see Skinner standing behind him, gun still smoking.

Scully's mouth hangs open in astonishment and relief. “Sir…” Mulder says.

“Go,” Skinner snaps, waving his gun at the door. They grab their weapons and go.

They start out running as they approach the water, but they both slow as they see what is happening. The smoker is holding Mulder at gunpoint. The smoker has Mulder at gunpoint at the edge of the water, but that isn't possible, because Mulder is right beside her and has been since Washington. He's saying something with Mulder's voice, but this is all impossible, it can't be him. Scully can't breathe. She gropes for Mulder and finds him right beside her, a solid and warm mass.

“Then you don't know me very well,” says Spender, and fires.

The bullet hits the not-Mulder in the forehead, and it's only then that Scully realizes who he is.

Her scream shatters the windows and splits the sky in half.

---

The smoker doesn't seem to hear or acknowledge Scully's scream. He's watching Mulder's body fall into the water. Mulder’s son wearing his face.

His father has just killed his son.

“Hey!” Mulder roars, with a fury so deep that he can feel it in his teeth, in his bones. The smoker whirls, and Mulder shoots him. He fires again and again, shooting his father as he draws closer and closer. He can feel every bullet.

It isn't just his bullets hitting Spender. Scully is shooting, too, walking beside him and firing again and again. Their bullets hit Spender together, dozens piercing him again and again.

When Mulder hears the click of Scully's gun that means it is empty, he surges forward. He pushes his dying father into the water with all the fury in his body.

He once told himself that if he killed his father, it would be for his son. He wasn't wrong.

His father falls into the water with a splash.

“William!” Scully screams, and she's running towards the water, she's close to jumping in, but Mulder catches her before she can.

Night has fallen. The water is dark and cold, and he can't see his son's body.

His body. He is going to throw up. He wants to scream.

“William!” Scully is pushing at his arms, clawing at him. “Let me go, Mulder, I have to…”

“Scully, stop,” he says, holding her against him.

“He's down there!” she shouts, bucking in his arms, almost falling over the edge. “He's down there, he's hurt, I have to get him out of there, Mulder…” Her voice is wobbling horribly, her fingernails digging into his arms. She sobs once, a hollow sound.

“He's gone,” Mulder says, and it doesn't feel his words, his mouth moving. He's not here, he's somewhere out in a field in summer where it's warm, and his son is there and Scully, and they are happy….

“Our son,” he says, and it sounds like sobbing, and he meant to say is gone, but he can't make the words come. He's shaking, clutching Scully to him just to tether himself to the ground. It can't, it can't be true. No. “Our son,” he whispers.

Scully is limp in his arms, even if she's still struggling. She's sobbing, her shoulders shaking. He thinks he hears her whisper their son's name.

He presses his tear-smudged face into her hair, whispers, “Scully.” She's shaking in his arms, and he's crying, too. He moves his cheek against her hair, and then he sees it: a white hand gripping the side of the dock, trying to pull himself up. It can't, it can't be, but… “Scully,” he says, more insistent.

“What…” Her eyes flicker across the dock until she sees it, and he feels her freeze against him.

Mulder lets go of her, falls to his knees at the edge of the dock and grips the wet hand. He pulls it, pulls the person up onto the dock, the quivering, dripping person, and it is his son, his son soaked to the bone, water cascading off his shoulders. Shaking, a bullet hole in his forehead.

“Dad,” William says, his teeth chattering. “Mom…”

Scully makes a small, whimpering sound. Falls to her knees beside them and wraps her arms around him. Mulder gathers them up against him, holding his son against his chest, rocking them. “William,” he's saying, the words spilling out of his mouth. “Oh my God, Will…”

“It's okay,” William is saying, “it's okay, I'm okay, it's okay…” But he's crying, he's sobbing with his face half pressed against Mulder's jacket.

“Shhh,” Scully says, and she's got a fistful of Mulder’s shirt, clutching William with one hand and Mulder with the other, and she is comforting William as if he's still a small child. “Shhh, baby, it's okay, we've got you. He's dead now. We've got you.”

William's taking shaky breaths, nearly hyperventilating and shivering with cold, but he's breathing, he's alive. His son is alive. “I'm sorry,” Mulder says, and he means for saying William was gone, but it could be for any number of things. William takes a few more shuddering breaths, shivering hard. The lake water is getting them all wet, but he doesn't care. Scully is crying and William is crying and they're all three trembling, sitting on the cold ground, murmuring things that blur together and don't seem to make any sense.

His son is alive. His father is dead. It's finally, finally over.

“It's going to be okay,” he says into Scully's hair. William nods his agreement. Scully makes a choked sobbing sound, tightening her grip on them both, sniffling into his chest. “It's going to be okay,” Mulder whispers. “It's okay. It's over now.”

William nods again. “It's over,” he says. “It's over.”

He rocks his son and his wife back and forth. It’s over and they’re together and they’re alive. For now, that seems like enough.

[hillywooddestiel]

Stranger Things Have Happened: Chapter Six

Chapter 6: The Battle of Troy

Characters: Sam, Dean, sister!Reader, Nancy (mentioned), Will (mentioned), Troy, Mike, Lucas, Dustin, Eleven

Warnings: language, Troy being a dick

Word count: 1.3k

Series description: Hawkins, Indiana, November 1983. The Winchesters got out of hunting and decided to settle down in a small town. The youngest of the three, Y/N, just wants to get on with her somewhat normal life and go to a good college. But that’s a little tricky when disappearances start occurring, including her friend Barbara Holland, and there’s reports of a mysterious new girl in town. Can she balance boyfriends, teen drama and monster hunting?

A/N: Another chapter! I really want to get to all the good stuff so I’ve found myself more motivated to write. Plus my brain is already feeding me ideas for a series based on season 2 so thanks brain. Some feedback would be much appreciated xx Series Masterlist Masterlist

Story:

I have no idea where Nancy has got to. One minute, we’re sat next to eachother in American Lit reading along with the rest of the class half asleep and the next she’s being called out of the classroom by a woman from the school office for some unknown reason. And she never came back. I try to look for her in the crowds of students heading towards the assembly but I don’t spot her familiar face or even the back of her head. Looks like I’ll be sitting alone for this one.

No one looks particularly sad or even a little sympathetic as they file into the benches with the friends. Instead, a lot of people are just chatting and even laughing with eachother like this is just a regular assembly. Assholes! Half the people in here picked on Will or helped spread the rumours at least once in their school lives, in his short life. I manage to get a seat near the back of the gym where I can see nearly everyone. The principal is watching from his podium, a solemn expression painted on his face- it’s only there because if not people would ask questions. He didn’t care about Will. Nobody here did.

“Today… Is a terrible day in our school’s history.” He begins, saying words that, come home time, no one will even remember. “Will Byers was taken from this earth far too early. In his brief time here, he was a member of the school AV club…” And off he goes just making a list. Is that all Will’s life was to these people? A list of clubs and minor accomplishments? I suppose that’s all they can say because nobody took the time to really get to know him. Hell, even I only knew bits and pieces about his life.

All of a sudden, the door to the gym opens. Mike, Dustin, Lucas and… I have no idea who that is. A petit blonde girl in a pink dress and sneakers follows behind Mike to get to the remaining seats. She doesn’t go here. I know because I made sure to know everyone at this school: old habits die hard I guess. So who is she?

“Oh, he’s gonna leave a whole in the community!” A boy a few rows ahead of me mocks the speech before sniggering with his friend. Troy, I think that’s his name. If you were to look up the definition of an ignorant, dick headed twat in an encyclopedia, there would be a photo of Troy, no description required. I’d seriously like to punch him in his greasy little face. Maybe later.

When the bell for the end of the period rings, everybody shoots up out of their seats and pushes towards the doors. To be honest, I’m inclined to do the same: that assembly was a load of bullshit! With no one around me to talk to, I follow on behind some other sophomores that I recognize from some of my classes. They just pick up their ordinary conversations from earlier, unfazed by the whole assembly.

“Hey Troy!” As I’m just making it off of the steps, someone calls out to that Troy kid, “You think this is funny?”

“Wha’d'you say Wheeler?” Oh my God, Mike?! I’d better stick around to make sure he doesn’t get his ass kicked again.

“I saw you guys laughing over there. And I think that’s a real messed up thing to do.” Well I never though I’d see the day when Mike stood up to those bullies. Part of me wishes he wasn’t though because I can already see them flexing their fingers, ready to throw a punch

“Didn’t you listen to the counselor Wheeler? Grief shows itself in funny ways.” Troy’s equally moronic friend sneers at them all.

“Besides, what’s there to be sad about anyway? Will’s in fairyland now, right? Flying around with all the other little fairies, all happy and gay!” Troy mocks maliciously before doing some stupid dance and flapping his hands in the air like wings. Is it wrong to punch a kid in middle school? Like I care at this point.

Troy and his lackey turn to leave the gym but before they make it three steps, Mike runs up and pushes Troy over. He wasn’t expecting it so he falls straight to the floor. The crowd that has gathered to watch all ‘ooh’ s in unison.

“You’re dead Wheeler! Dead!” Troy screams as he gets up, barreling towards Mike. Only, he freezes midway. He looks just as confused as the rest of us in the gym. That is until a dark patch forms at the crotch of his pants, spreading down his leg rapidly.

“Dude, Troy peed himself!” One child shouts and the rest join in with the laughter. I find myself unable to: this is wrong. Nobody just stood and wets themselves like that, no. This looks suspiciously like a spell or a hex bag. A witch. Mike’s new friend! I spot her wiping something from her nose before turning and leaving the gym.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” Our pathetic excuse for a principal finally notices the drama. Lucas grabs Mike and Dustin and they run, following the girl. The second they start to run, my body jolts to action like a reflex and I follow them too. The doors are still swinging as I burst through them out into the corridor. I look to my right, there are people leading the assembly, laughing about Troy. No Mike or his friends. I look to my left. There’s nobody. Where the hell did they go?

“Hey! I’m home!” Dean calls from the hallway, closing the door behind him and wiping his boots on the door mat.

“Hey!” I shout back absentmindedly, focusing on the trigonometry on front of me. Sam is busy boiling some potatoes to have with the meatloaf that’s in the oven. And of course, there’s a mountain of veggies in the steamer.

“Good day at school?” He asks, grabbing a clean shirt from the laundry pile to take to the shower with him.

“I guess. We had an assembly about grief, some asshole kid from the middle school peed himself in front of everyone. Oh, and I got an A for my English essay.” I shrug my shoulders, reeling off my list from the day.

“A kid peed himself?”

“Yeah. I doubt anyone’s gonna let him forget it for years. He’s a bully though so I guess it’s what he deserved.”

“Deserved? You say that like somebody made him do it.” Sam, ever the clever one, points out, placing a steaming plate of food in front of me. I move my books to make room before continuing.

“Someone kinda did. Nancy’s little brother pushed him over for laughing in the assembly and that’s when it happened.”

“Mike Wheeler? That scrawny little kid stood up for himself?” Sam asks, stunned.

“He did. Speaking of the Wheelers, Nancy asked me to come to the funeral tomorrow with her.” I mention casually, pushing my broccoli around my plate with my fork.

“Then you should go. In fact, I think we all should.” Dean suggests, smiling wisely at Sam. I find myself struggling to not choke on my water.

“Wait, really!?” I finally manage to get the words out. Dean nods, taking a seat at the table instead of going upstairs to the bathroom.

“Yeah! I think we should go as a family and pay our respects. Show our support.”

“But-”

“So it’s settled! Right, I’m off for my shower.”

“What?”

Why would Dean just change his mind? He didn’t know Will, he doesn’t know the Byers family and he certainly didn’t care this time yesterday. So what’s changed?

STHH tags:

@marslovesme @bluedefundead @elenavaldez09 @mysanityisgone27

[celestialvexation-arch]

Opia

for @meradorm because i wanted to and i love tolerate you. enjoy uvu~! 

    “Excuse me? Is everything alright?”       You blinked out of your daze, staring up to meet with brown eyes of an android that held an inquisitive shine in them ( Is he doing an internal scan of yourself? A subtle check upon your features to determine the emotion at hand? ). A quick glance at the LED chip showed a loading yellow, confirming your assumption. “Yeah,” you easily answered, brushing off his concerns with a slow exhale. “I mean, as anyone who found the body of a recent murder could be...” You smiled crookedly, a rather piss poor attempt to elicit humor, however dark it was.      The lack of reaction regarding it only made it awkward so you cleared your throat, fighting back an embarrassing flush of your face. How goddamn humiliating. “So, you got any clues on who done it or...?” 

     “We have reason to believe that the deviant has returned to the scene of the crime not too long ago,” he replied as smoothly as marble, the words sounding easy on the tongue. “The body's position has been disturbed at some point, possibly to rid of any additional evidence of its identity or some other reason. We are now asking for any potential witnesses for any odd sights or strange behavior from others.” As he spoke, you couldn’t help but be transfixed by his ever so constant gaze into your eyes. 

     The strangest aspect concerning it is that it didn’t necessarily feel...uncomfortable as you would expect when someone is staring directly at you. It wasn’t exactly leering though you would think that he is merely attempting to detect any abnormal behavior such as deceit or signs of discomfort. Perhaps it’s part of the training all detectives and law enforcement must go through to accomplish a task but still... You can’t help the feeling of added effort within it. Strange. You’ve never enjoyed the very obvious attempt from others trying to assume details of yourself, trying to expose something that not even you know of and it often elicits an emotion that’s bordering between anger and humiliation.       “Right...” you hummed out, finally tearing your gaze away to stare at the police surrounding the scene before them. Okay, this should be easy since you obviously had no hand in the crime itself and it would be understandable in being shaken at the whole thing. And thankfully, that all came into play as this android -- RK800 is the supposed serial number but you didn’t think in regarding him as that -- questioned you, mostly shaking your head at the basic questions such as “Have you noticed any android activity that seems unusual to you?” or “Have you seen anyone, be they human or android,  behaving oddly?”       At first, he didn’t appear all that disappointed with the lack of leads but you did catch a glimmer of something in those dark brown eyes. They appeared too...bright -- as in being aware of something that he isn’t quite used to. “Very well. It may not be much but every little clue is helpful,” he announced, posture straight and alert. You can’t help but admire how committed he is; of course, you expect all androids to be as such, especially regarding this line of work. However, thoughts of unknown origins began to surface.      You started to wonder just how he is when he isn’t...this. When he is relaxed for once and within a serene environment that provided a break from not only the frustrating dead ends of crimes but also the hostile greetings from others.      ‘Is his skin soft as those eyes then?’ you thought, dazed once again as your mind wandered off the path of decency and into one of--      “--if that’s fine with you?”       A curse tumbled out as you rubbed at your face, lifting your gaze up with a sigh. “What? Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” you mumbled almost in embarrassment. Luckily, the android didn’t appear bothered by your disregarding of attention though his head did cant to the side ( ‘Ah, like a damn puppy,’ you thought to yourself for a split second ). “I asked if it’s alright if we are to meet again for another interview? You seem shaken by the events at hand so it would be beneficial if you acquired rest to lower your stress so you may be in a better state of mind.”      ...Holy shit, how did you miss all that? Did you seriously blanked out for that long?       “Yeah, that’s fine. I’m a bit disoriented today, anyway. Been a long day and all...” He nodded in acknowledgement, his head turning to a much older man who was calling for him. “Connor, c’mon! Gotta head back to the station for now!” Connor... So that was his name. It sounded...right, to you. Connor turned back to you with a nod in farewell, repeating his offer in a similar statement before leaving to leave with the other gentleman.      You observed him walking away with the man, watching how the android move rather fluidly yet casual. Warmth started to spread from your chest but you hardly consider it as anything...affectionate or tender. It was more of anticipation and it was beginning to take your breath away.

     The next day came quickly and before you knew it, you found yourself staring at Connor, who has arrived at your humble abode for a second interview. You knew beforehand that he is arriving but for him to be alone... You expected some other police officer or even the lieutenant himself. “I apologize for this inconvenience,” he started, eyes staring intently in yours. “But I believed that you will be more at ease if you are in a familiar and comfortable environment, such as your home.      Furthermore, with the hostility towards androids and the station overall rambunctious, it’s only fitting that we are to do the interview here.”       You had to blink at the rather smart conclusions, thinking that he is right since you aren’t used to the social world and if things do escalate during the interview, the android will have no choice but to leave regardless since he is a guest here and he would have to abide to the host’s wishes. Bringing him over to the living room, you gestured for the seat across from yours, to which Connor sit himself down in the same straight posture as he would be standing. Body at a complete 90 degrees, he settled his hands along his lap as he stared at you.       Struggling to keep your inhibitions at bay, you listened to him as best you could but the words soon began to distort. It wasn’t necessarily static but it was as though Connor is slowly becoming muffled. “...Are you alright?” he voiced, your senses picking up what you assumed is concern. “You appear ill. Have you been eating and drinking normally lately?” Even though he is capable of scanning you for any ailments, it felt as though he doesn’t do so unless it is absolutely necessary or with consent. The thought of that had you flushed at the cheeks and this time, it wasn’t out of embarrassment.      “Uh... No. I mean, yes, I’ve been eating well. It’s just that...” God, how do you even say that it is this damn android that is occupying and distracting your mind? How can you reveal thoughts that seem rather indecent and slightly unsettling? Connor had raised a brow at you but you only glanced at him then stood up, rushing to the kitchen. Yes, a glass of water is most appreciated here. You hastily took a glass from the cabinet, filling it with cold water then downing half the glass.       The cool liquid felt good traveling down your throat, the glass lowered to the counter as you let out a soft sigh. You were so preoccupied with your thoughts that you didn’t hear Connor until-- “Are you certain you do not acquire anything?” You jumped, turning to find him surprisingly close to you. He’s leaning his body over, attempting to catch anything upon your features that may be out of place.       You inhaled slowly, unable to bring your eyes away from the brown gaze. Connor laid a hand along the kitchen counter, you turning fully towards him in time for that hand to reach up and take hold of you chin. You froze. The skin met with yours is... Well, it’s surprisingly normal! It didn’t feel cold or like porcelain as it would with a doll. Instead, the skin felt...just like yours. Soft, warm, and having a gentleness that proved that Connor is taking your health into consideration even if you are merely an eyewitness to the aftermath of a murder. Your tongue came out to wet at dry lips, watching as Connor noticed then paying direct attention to you.       “Your body temperature has risen but not to an alarming or worrying level,” Connor noted, turning your head this way and that. You stared deeply into his eyes and up close, you’ve noticed just how vivid the irises were. It wasn’t a dull brown as you would expect from a robot that is to simply solve cases and have a composed, calculated head. They have an energy, a dynamic to them that is similar to everyone else’s you’ve known. It is so...human, as cliche as you thought of it.       Connor had leaned forward at some point, you feeling unraveled at how intense his gaze was. Silence rang between you both, the only sounds were the humming of the air conditioner and the drumming beat of your heart. “Your heart...” he murmured, thumb suddenly going up close to your bottom lip. The very organ is quickening in beat but you didn’t seem to notice. Swiftly glancing down at his own lips then back up, Connor searched for something before he smiled... Oh, that smile. It was small but incredibly beatific that it took your breath away. You’ve never would have expected an android to smile so genuinely like that...      ...but with Connor, with his soft features that demonstrated a buried benevolence and warmth, it had you come undone, especially with how his eyes followed with crinkling, sympathetic lines. It wasn’t as if he’s incredibly delicate or fragile; there is a mellow serenity to him but you can tell that there is a calm imperturbability that can unnerve even the most hardened soul. You suddenly felt exposed as though he managed to open a heavy door with no help from a key or any other means. It should have angered you; you were vulnerable in the presence of an android who can obtain so much information just by a glance and can utilize it to their advantage, if need be.       Just as you wanted to pull the other in to cocoon yourself in that warmth, Connor pulled away and collected his composure by fixing at his tie, smile gone but there is a rather airy mood to him. "If you are currently well,” he started casually as though you two haven’t shared a moment together. “We can continue with the interview.” It didn’t bother you as much that he would be so committed in the investigation.      It only had your lips quirking up, filling the glass up again as you hummed, “Yes, of course. Ask away, detective.” 

[sebbytaekookhemmings-blog]

Yoonmin - Proposal

 Jimin:

After my macaron stunt, Yoongi has made it his mission to turn up late to places or make me worried to show me how he felt, I do admit I was wrong to be so late and not call, but this isn’t fair! He turned up to dance practice late, our date on Tuesday and now he’s late home. I grumble to myself as I walk past the entity that is Taekook, seeing Taehyung cuddled into Jungkook’s chest whilst he watches YouTube with the tablet on Tae’s back.

“Hey Jimin” Jungkook whispers, aware of his sleeping boyfriend below and nestles into his hair more. I nod at him and look at the cuddling pair on the sofa, “still having trouble with Yoongi?” he asks quietly, I’m glad someone cares, even if it is the maknae.

“Yeah, he keeps turning up late because I did it once” I stutter out, feeling ashamed of the way I feel.

“Who knows” he replies, I look at him confused and begin to retract my thoughts about him caring, “what?” I snap at him, feeling angry with everyone now.

“I mean maybe he is up to something or making something” he looks at me and smiles, “koookie” I hear a quiet moan of Tae, “yeah baby?” Jungkook replies calmly and turning the tablet off to pay attention to Taehyung, “can we go to bed now?” he asks quietly, still nuzzling into Jungkook’s chest, I just stand in the corner of the kitchen, listening to what I sometimes wish I had with Yoongi.

“Of course, we can beautiful.” And in one swift motion, Jungkook picks up Tae in a forward hold, Tae’s arms clenching around his neck and loosely hanging on his back. Jungkook slides the iPad in Tae’s hoodie pocket and carries him to their room, but before leaving he looks at me, “I’m sure Yoongi means well Jimin” and smiles. I nod back and with that the two leave. Now I’m alone in the dorm kitchen, sipping on a strawberry milkshake waiting for anything.

The light buzzes above my head and slowly outside is growing a deeper shade of black, looking at my phone it reads “1AM” This is a bit extreme I think to myself, but as I look up I see a small framed person come through the front door, with a carrier bag full of items. He is hooded and wearing a cap, looks like he is trying to hide from the paparazzi, so it must be one of the members.

“Shit be quiet Yoongi” he whispers to himself.

YOONGI! I think to myself, I’m so happy he is here and safe but still mad at the fact he is so late, instead of screaming hello and running to hug him, I decided to quietly stay where I am and watch him and his movements that follow.

He takes the carrier bag and checks what’s in it, soon taking his jacket off as he does to reveal he is wearing black skinny jeans, a white shirt and black suit jacket. Flicking his much-hated converse off his small feet, he scurries off in the direction of the dorms, to which I can only assume is our room, also known as my room.

Much like Taekook, we share a room, choosing the biggest room out of the couple, in Yoonmin’s case it was mine and so Yoongi’s room is now an office and wardrobe space for us, sometimes Yoongi sleeps in there too during the day but often we resort to our shared dorm.

I follow him quietly, watching him and the bag slip into the doorway, “ah perfect he isn’t here” he mutters to himself, confused as to why he is pleased about my absence, I take the hint that I’m not supposed to be there and walk back quietly.

The kitchen is boring and so I choose to message Hobi Hyung and see if he is up.

Hyung?

Chimchim?

You up?

Evidently you idiot haha, what’s up?

Can I come in your room for a bit?

Yes! Of course! You want to play overwatch or something?

Sure, sounds great :)

I trundle off to Hobi’s room to expect a couple hours of silent laughing and being competitive over a video game, knocking on the door gently I await Hobi and his bright smile to acquaint me.

“Ah Chimchim! Hi come in!” He pokes his head out of the door, almost trying to be secretive and funny, he makes his face go funny as he checks for people around, I chuckle at his charade and walk on in once he deems his secret spy sense sustained.

“So, what brings you to Hobi palace?” He says, spreading his arms wide like in his Daydream music video, I laugh at his silly behaviour and sit down on a chair, grabbing a controller and brushing my hair back. He sits next to me and places his hand on my shoulder, I realise he already knows why I am here.

“I know you are having trouble with Yoongi, it’ll be ok! Yoongi just has these moments where he wipes everything from him to truly think and comes back to it all. Usually when he has a big decision to make” His smile seems to get brighter and almost like he is hinting something. What is it with the members and their implicit hints today! First Jungkook and now Hobi. I shrug and laugh it off, he soon retracts his hand and loads up the game, beginning to make gun noises, “pew pew! Pew!” I can’t help but smile at his actions and soon we begin to competitively play the game.

Hours pass, and defeats seem to ruin Hobi. Jungkook taught me how to win effectively whilst playing with Taehyung on overwatch, so I pretty much know all the best ways as I was taught by the golden maknae himself. Hobi begins to yawn as it is now 3AM, “Chimchim, I’m sorry but I need to sleep, I know it’s a free day tomorrow but still” I nod and agree, “That’s okay Hobi, thank you for letting me come in” I place the controller away as he crawls into bed. “Y’know” he begins to talk, “you could always stay the night?” he winks at me, trying to ignite a burning Hopemin romance and props himself on the bed seductively, I laugh at his joke as I stand by the door about to leave. “I think ill go back to my boyfriend now” I laugh, and he soon laughs too, sighing for dramatic effect, “I guess so” and he curls into bed, “’ always here for you Jimin” he adds. “I know you are Hobi” and with that I close the door.

My phone soon vibrates in my pocket, notifying me of something I am unware of at this stage in time, I peer at my screen, now reading “5AM” and see a text message.

Where are you bb? X

Its Yoongi, I sigh at the message and reply,

I am coming back to the room right now don’t worry x

And walk back to my room, expecting him to be in bed or mad at me for being so late. My head is sickened with these negative thoughts, I feel so low and upset about us. I should be happy or lucky or gleeful and yet all I want to do is cry or hide in a ball of blankets until it all feels okay again. I don’t know why I feel like this, my head doesn’t want to go back to my room, but my legs carry me there anyway, almost as if I must go back, I have no choice. I soon place my hand on the door handle, pushing it down to open the door, the handle is cold and yet the room for some reason is radiating so much heat….

Yoongi:

Fucking candles I think to myself, I had lit about 40…. Well 46 to be exact and placed them all around the room. There was quiet music in the background as it was 5AM and flower petals of gentle yellows scattered freely across the floor. I had gone to a lot of trouble to get this all perfect for Jimin, days of not talking or being on time; the flowers, the candles, the music, the ring, the whole lot.

I check the ring one last time, beautiful I think as I stare at the simple yet detailed ring. Nothing to masculine but nothing too feminine, it was small and silver, with three diamonds set in the band, small and aligned but nothing to flashy that Jimin wouldn’t be distracted by.

I hear the door handle push down and take a final breath, his head is hung down loose and he closes the door behind him, soon spinning around to see me on one knee in my suit attire to an extent. His face priceless, my face priceless, he is shocked, and I am so happy yet about to cry with nerves, we stare for a few minutes before I remember I have to say something, I cough and begin to talk quietly.

“Jimin, I know I haven’t be fair to you, and we have had our struggles. We have been in BTS together for a long time now, and I have loved every part of it, especially with you in it, I know at times you’ve been sad or I have been angry but every day, I remember that you love me and that I love you, I guess that’s what keeps me going through all the hardship of life, knowing I have you, no matter how mad or lonely I feel some times.” Tears begin to fall from his eyes, his smile hidden under his hand as he turns into an adorable mochi, his face beautiful as ever and him speechless at my words, I decide to carry on,

“now, my leg really hurts from kneeling like this for a couple of hours, but it is all worth it for you, everything is okay with you and you keep me happy and at bay. What I am trying to say is I love you and would you be willing to spend the rest of your life with me, as married partners?” I ask the question, breathing as I finally got the words out with no mess ups, or mistakes. He is still crying with joy, I hope, but also still hunched up quiet, “Jimin?” I ask, worried if he is ok.

He soon gets on his knees too, facing me directly and I too kneel of both of my legs, he places his hands around my face, causing me to smile and feel his warm hands around me, he smiles back at me, “Yoongi, you make me so worried, you confuse me, you tire me out, you make me mad…” with these words I feel worried as to whether he will say yes, the negative answer seems more promising at this stage, but I continue to listen in hope.

“But you also make me smile, laugh and you love me, I will love you eternally and can’t think of anything I would want more than to be yours forever and for you to be mine.” I smile at his words and small tears begin to fall from my eyes, I laugh to myself and face him directly, “in short?” I laugh, and he nods his head down in laughter, “Yes!” he giggles and soon we both stand up, kissing tightly and his hands around my waist, I slip the ring onto his finger, throwing the box god knows where, lifting his arms around my neck and putting mine on his waist. Pulling him in tightly and deepening the kiss, I release, “jump” I whisper smiling and he does as he is told perfectly, he jumps up and fastens his legs around my waist perfectly, kissing me tightly even more and exploring each-others mouth attentively and hungrily, smiling into the kiss.

Soon I place him on to the bed, kissing him still, both of us sickened with happiness and love in our heads, I move my kisses all over his neck, causing him to arch slightly but also breathe out in pleasure, “Yoongi…” I smirk and soon crawl up to beside him, bopping his nose and he smiles. Cuddling into me on the bed, I immediately turn into the big spoon, holding him tightly and both of us smiling stupidly.

I kiss his forehead, “I love you Park Jimin”, I really love him, more than anyone in the world, more than myself.    

Jimin:

I hear his sweet voice and breath blow against my hair, I cuddle in more and begin to admire the ring on my finger, beautiful, I think to myself.

“I love you Min Yoongi”

I really do love him, no human has affected me so much like Min Yoongi, and I love him and thank him for it all.

No more negativity felt, no more sadness, just pure happiness and luck, I’m so lucky to have Yoongi and will never leave him. Yoonmin forever

[qqueenofhades]

The Rose and Thorn: Chapter XIX

summary:  Sequel to The Dark Horizon. The New World, 1740: Killian and Emma Jones have lived in peace with their family for many years, their pirate past long behind them. But with English wars, Spanish plots, rumors of a second Jacobite rising, and the secret of the lost treasure of Skeleton Island, they and their son and daughter are in for a dangerous new adventure. OUAT/Black Sails. rating: M status: WIP available: FF.net and AO3 previous: chapter XVIII

The commotion from outside beat dimly on the door of the cabin as Jim braced against it, one hand on the latch and a pistol in the other, torn between holding down the fort and rushing out, gun blazing, for what would be a surely spectacular five minutes before he was riddled with bullets, stabbed with a boat hook, chucked overboard, or the other countless ways in which the mutineers could do him in. Much as the heroic option was tempting, however, he had to keep the door shut. Madi, Geneva, Thomas, and Mrs. Rogers were all in here with him, and it would be red slaughter if Job Anderson and his blood-maddened minions burst in. It was a few hours since the uprising on the Rose had begun, and Jim kept hoping it would burn itself out before dawn. Sometimes they did, after all: men were angry and wanted to let off steam, but were aware that they would be court-martialed and executed if they crossed the line into mutiny, a crime which pirate, merchant, and Navy laws alike punished without mercy. So they’d drink, shoot off guns, terrify the officers, but when push came to shove, stand down, shut up, and go away.

Jim had to admit, however, that this one did not look to be doing so, and they had to get the situation under control fast if the mutineers were to be prevented from taking the Rose God knew where, or deciding to get their hands on Geneva, Madi, and Eleanor – the latter badly wounded, of course, but still the only three women aboard the vessel, and Geneva, as captain, the object of their outrage. They had already made a few test forays, but Jim had shot at one through the crack in the door, and by the sound of the gurgle and crash, thought he’d hit him. Geneva was in fact standing a few feet behind him with both pistols loaded, and kept insisting to be let out to deal with the bastards herself. As long as she cowered in here, she argued, she proved that she was neither to be respected or feared, and she intended to at least get their fucking attention.

Jim was still angry with her for not bothering to tell him that small bit of information about their fathers, but that did not extend to wanting her cut down in cold blood by these idiots. Thomas likewise was not about to let his niece walk out into the midst of a mob, and urged her to consider the possibilities for a diplomatic resolution first. Madi was sitting as far away from Eleanor as she could, her entire body tense with anger and apprehension, and kept looking up every time there was a particularly loud crash from outside. Finally she exploded, “Where is he? Is he doing nothing at all?”

“I don’t know.” Jim debated if he could open the door for a better look, but it seemed quite a risk. Silver had gone out some time ago with the promise of trying to pour oil on the waters, and that was the last anyone had heard of him. Jim couldn’t help but wonder if the mutineers had just summarily bashed his head in, but he thought they’d be parading the corpse about if so. “I can’t see anything.”

Geneva made a sharp noise in the back of her throat and strode up alongside him, skirts swirling, to peer through one of the forward windows. “They don’t look to be openly brawling on the deck anymore, at least,” she said tersely. “I need to know what’s going on. Let me out.”

“My dear – ” Thomas, who also had a loaded pistol lying nearby, got to his feet. “Even if they have calmed a bit, if you appeared suddenly and alone – ”

“What if they free Hands from the brig?” Geneva whirled back, eyes snapping. “He could get his hands on more powder and still carry out his threat. Or something else, who knows what he – ”

“I understand you are angry.” Thomas’ voice was quiet and level. “And I know that you feel that as captain, you must put a stop to this disorder and insubordination immediately, and by your own hand, elsewise there may be some lingering cloud over their accusations, some inability for you to dispel the fear that they may be right. It is not so, I swear it is not so. And your grandfather faced a revolt or three aboard the Walrus in his day, if I recall. Even he did not work his way out of those by simply bashing everyone present about the head – much though he may have wished to.”

“No,” Geneva said darkly. “That was when Mr. Silver played his part.”

There was a communal pause as they all looked at the door, as if to check whether the said Mr. Silver had, in fact, done so yet. Still nothing. Madi shifted restlessly, with a slight, not-entirely-hidden fear on her face. Much as relations might remain (to say the least) difficult with her estranged husband, Jim was quite sure she would not at all care to see him actually die. After a pause, she said, “One of us should go look, even so.”

“I’ll go,” Jim offered. “The mutineers don’t have any particular grudge against me, not that I know of, and I might have met a few of them in Bristol of a time. I’m not a bad shot with a pistol, and if I do track down Mr. Silver, he might be inclined to tell me what the blazes is going on. Mr. Hamilton, can you hold the door while I’m off?”

“Aye.” Thomas looked at him with surprise and a slight glimmer of respect. “But it’s dangerous, lad. If their mood turns again – if Mr. Silver is dead, then you could just be the next in line to – ”

“He’s not dead,” Jim said. “Not that man.”

With that, he made up his mind. Took the extra pistol from the sideboard and slung it through his belt, drew a deep breath, and squared his shoulders. Exchanged a glance with Thomas, who stepped up to assume his vacated position by the door, pulled it open just far enough to slither through, and stepped out onto the dimly lit, fog-shrouded deck of the Rose.

The autumn night was chill enough to make him shiver, as he was only in his shirtsleeves, and he supposed the less-than-ideal weather had hampered the mutineers from setting a new course at once. He had heard they’d been caught in a terrible hurricane not far off Bermuda on the way out, and there was a slight keen in the wind that he didn’t much like, but at least it didn’t seem to be getting any worse. Where they thought they’d hare off to, he didn’t know – if it was Skeleton Island, they were planning on going there anyway, so it didn’t make sense to stage a mutiny just to send them somewhere they were already headed. Or just as possibly, they had not thought things through that far ahead, and just wanted to depose Geneva and Silver before they made any long-term plans. Could have decided their point was made with the hell-raising, and retired below for a celebratory tankard of ale. Either way, it would not be wise for Jim to abruptly present himself, clearly armed and ready for a fight, and so he crept very, very cautiously across the boards. Mutiny or not, someone was going to have to reef those sails. They’d left the Rose at nearly full canvas, and didn’t appear to be paying a damn bit of attention to her. What, did they just want to hit a sandbar or run straight into a storm?

Jim debated the merits of climbing the rigging to attend to it, but it would be bloody hard to reef alone, and they could hold out a bit longer, though Jesus Christ only knew which direction they were headed as a result. Brief and unsuccessful though his stint in the Navy had been, it had at least furnished him with a stern dislike of improper maritime protocol, and he could just about hear Captain Smollett complaining in his head. But after a moment of hesitation, he made up his mind, headed for the ladder, and started below.

It was even darker here, and cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey, but by following the sound of talk and shouting, and the faint, dancing glimmer of a lantern, elusive as marshlights, Jim stealthily made his way toward the crew’s quarters. He thought of listening in on Silver and Eleanor, and wondered if more earth-shaking information would be forthcoming as a result of this. But he did not intend to be caught, or to reveal himself this time, and stopped just behind the bulkhead. Saw the men standing or sitting, perched on barrels or sacks or their hammocks – but all looking, however unwillingly, at the king holding court, his throne a cannon, his hair loose in grey-black curls, and his face carved by the flickering lantern into hollows of light and shadow, a gargoyle cast in stone to gaze on the sinners below. They might hate John Silver, they might have sworn to kill him just hours ago, but Jim could see them falling into his ocean like sailors in the grip of sirens, not even noticing that they were about to drown.

“No,” Silver was saying decisively. “You’re going to do what I say, and you’re going to let me handle this. You know that there’s no chance in hell of them listening to any of you. I know what to say to lure them out, and if we are going to sustain this, you will have to rely on my knowledge. In more ways than one – which you know, don’t you? You have no map to reach Skeleton Island, apart from the one in my head. Just as was the case with the Urca de Lima’s schedule, once upon a time. Tell me, gentlemen, are you familiar with the concept of irony?”

“Stop talking so much, Silver.” That was Job Anderson, the leader of the mutineers, standing across the way with arms folded. “We could make you give up them bearings, you know. What could you do against us, with that peg leg?”

“Could you?” Silver smiled oddly. “As for the peg leg, I killed a man named Dufresne with it once. Split his head like a ripe peach, until his brains ran out on the floor. Yours does not look terribly more difficult, if you really are so keen as to try. But given as my value speaks for itself, I don’t think you will.”

“You’d tell us you was luring them out, then go up there, tell them our plans instead, and get them to come down here and kill us all. You think we was born yesterday, we haven’t heard who Long John Silver actually is?” Another of the mutineers, a man named George Merry if Jim recalled, looked absolutely incredulous. “You think any of us are actually swallowin’ this sack of shite? We all know how you’re keen to play both sides. Get fucked.”

Silver gave him an extremely cool look, then raised his voice. “So, does Mr. Merry speak for the lot of you, gentlemen? No voyage to Skeleton Island at all, is that it?”

There were a few restless mutters and glances. None of them liked Silver very much; Jim knew that he had brought some of his own men aboard when the Rose had departed Nassau, but even they were not in much hurry to speak up in this hostile confederation and paint a target on their backs. Even so, the glittering lure of the fabulous lost wealth of Skeleton Island remained too strong; in other words, their greed was currently stronger than their bloodlust, and it was holding their hands in check. Finally it was Anderson who spoke. “He doesn’t speak for the lot of us, no. But we know you’re soft on the little lady captain. We can all see it. Saving her from Hands like that, and everything else – you’d never let us kill her.”

“Perhaps I would,” Silver said pleasantly. “If killing her was even the wise idea in this situation, which it is not remotely. Her family is wealthy, and her father is rather infamous. I don’t know about you, but I’d not like to give Captain Hook any call to hunt the lot of us down.”

“He’s old,” said another man. “Like you, Silver. Bye n’ bye, your time’s passed. Besides, isn’t her grandsire Captain Flint? That Flint? As if you’d ever – ”

Silver laughed aloud. “You’re saying that to me? Are you really? The man who destroyed Captain Flint, in case it escapes your recollection? The man who did what the rest of you only wished you had the stomach for – if you were anything more than mewling babes at your mother’s tit? The eldest of you could not have been more than what, six or seven during the pirates’ war? This is all ghost stories and tall tales to you, you fucking pissants. You have no idea what it was like, so don’t act as if you do. I stopped that war, I killed the monster of Flint, and I buried his bones on that island. And I advise you not to think that I’m not capable of doing it again, if the situation calls for it. As to whether it does, I am the judge of that. Not you.”

There were a few more uncertain looks, but no immediate ripostes. The mutineers were wary of him, on their guard, but also becoming belatedly aware that they could not continue to disrespect or disregard him with impunity. Jim, still concealed behind the bulkhead, felt his mouth go dry. He wanted to say that Silver was merely leading the mutineers on, telling them whatever they wanted to hear to gain their trust, and was indeed planning to turn them over to Geneva and company later, but there was an uncomfortable ring of truth about the words. Jim could hardly rush out into the middle of them and try to shoot – he only had two pistols, they’d tear him limb from limb before he made any progress – and yet, his heart was pounding in his throat. Was this truly so easy for Silver, to cast the lot of them aside and turn his cloak to whoever seemed best fitted to advance his interests? Geneva warned me. She warned me. And had neglected to warn him about the rest, but still. Jim remained low, breathing shallowly. Not just yet.

“Very well,” Anderson said unwillingly, after a long pause. “So what do you suggest?”

“Now that’s more like it.” Silver’s tone was mild, but there was an unmistakable warning beneath. “As I have said, I strongly advise against freeing Israel Hands from his present confinement. He is a mad dog, and mad dogs have no masters – they savage anyone who approaches them. If we’d still like to have a ship with which to make our journey to Skeleton Island, it is better for all concerned that he remains where he is. Next, as for Captain Jones and the others, leave that to me. We can get a good ransom for her and her uncle, and Madi is no use to you. The Hawkins lad, well, he’ll come around to us, no sense wasting a strong back and a steady pair of hands. As for Mrs. Rogers – ”

“The bitch whore’s never met anyone in her life she didn’t betray,” Merry said. “And the bitch captain spent the entire voyage distracted with her, using up all our drink, so I hope you’re not suggesting that we go to the bother of – ”

“Please,” Silver said, still mildly. “I would advise you to watch your language. And in fact, yes, I am suggesting we put at least some effort into the project of keeping her alive – or at least keeping the others alive to do it for us. She is the mother of a Royal Navy captain, and that captain is one whose father, I expect, even you miserable bilge rats have heard of. We can sell her to Matthew Rogers somehow, and if we can embarrass the Navy while we’re at it, so much the better. But only if she’s alive. Unless, old man that I am, I have missed the practice where it has become common to ransom a corpse?”

Merry opened his mouth, then shut it. Silver regarded him with vicious satisfaction, then went on. “When we reach Skeleton Island, I can take you ashore to where Flint buried at least one of the chests. If the hulk of the Walrus is still partially afloat – she could have grounded on the shore, rather than sinking into the blue hole – there will be the chance for more. Even one chest, however, will have vastly multiplied in value since 1716. Once we’ve divided up the spoils, we’ll barter Geneva, Thomas, and Eleanor off for their respective ransoms, which will enrich us further. The lot of you will never have to work again, can spend your days knee-deep in drink and pussy and whatever else appeals to you. All if you only listen to me. Do you suppose you could remotely manage that?”

“Doesn’t quite seem wise to let all of them go,” Anderson countered. “We should kill at least one of them, put some terror into the others – or at least demoralize them. What about the old man, Hamilton? He could still be dangerous – he put a beating on Hands, even if the crazy bastard was drunk. And he clearly isn’t your bosom friend. We could kill him.”

“Killing Thomas Hamilton,” Silver said, “would be a singularly unwise idea. Even for you.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Take it from me. That would entirely undo everything you’re striving to gain with this uprising in the first place, and much of the past twenty-five years. As for Hands, if Hamilton hadn’t settled him, I would have. I was never intending to let him anywhere near this vessel, I always meant to be first mate after Mr. Arrow’s tragic and untimely passing. But Geneva proved less susceptible to my counsel than I envisioned, so – ”

“Still just full of hot air and broke promises, aren’t you, Long John?” Another mutineer sneered derisively. “You won’t let us kill any of them, no matter how you play at bein’ on our side. So soon as we reach Skeleton Island, seems to me it would be a fine idea to leave you there as well, and get us rid of you and your – ”

Silver reached into his worn blue jacket, removed a pistol, cocked it, aimed, and shot. The sound was thunderous in the confined space, and yet for a moment Jim, still frozen, thought it had had no effect. Then he saw the red spot blooming on the mutineer’s forehead, drilled dead between his eyes. He looked confused, then toppled facefirst with a crash, revealing the wet red ruin of the back of his head. Nobody else moved or spoke.

Silver blew the smoke off the pistol barrel and slung it back into his jacket. His eyes were almost opaque, blue ice, as he rose slowly to foot and peg leg, regarding his handiwork dispassionately. “As you so call me,” he said, “Long John Silver, the pirate king, was in his day as feared as Flint. Does anyone else wish to quarrel with my plans or methods? Please, speak up.”

Yet again, nobody did. Silver seemed to take that for assent, and seemed about to leave, as Jim backtracked as fast as he could, trying not to make any noise as he sprinted for the ladder. He could hear the mutineers coming down the corridor, clearly set on pursuing their decided course of action, and scrambled topside just ahead of them, running back to the cabin and trying to knock on the door without causing a total ruckus. “Oy! Hey! Let me in, now!”

Thomas jerked it open from the other side, and Jim almost tumbled through before regaining his balance. As he looked around at the pale, strained faces awaiting good news, he felt his stomach knot further. “Well?” Madi said. “Did you find – ?”

“He’s…” Jim gulped another breath. “He’s down there with them, he was talking with them, I don’t know how true any of it was, but – he’s on his way, they’re coming up, he has them convinced he’s going to help them go through with the mutiny. I don’t know what that means for the lot of us, but he… he shot one of them, I’m not sure it was all a bluff. He – ”

“He what?” Geneva repeated, voice shrill. “He went down there and what – sold us out, quick as spit? And now he’s – Uncle Thomas, get your pistol, we have to – ”

“There are five of us, Jenny,” Thomas said. “One of us too wounded to move, one of us an old man, and you and Jim. Madi is unarmed. We have no hope of fighting the entire crew.”

“Some of them must still be loyal to me.” Spots of hectic color burned madly in Geneva’s cheeks, but her face was otherwise as white as a death mask. “They’re not saying it in the middle of a bloodthirsty mob, no, but if it comes to fighting, they’d turn back to my side.”

“That is a very slender thread to dangle our lives from,” Thomas pointed out. “And if Silver has gone down there to agitate them and whip them up, rather than try to talk them down, there is even less to say how the situation will react. So it is true, everything James said about him. I had hoped it wasn’t. Unless this is some clever long con, which is also entirely possible, but – ”

Just then, there was the sound of rough knocking on the door, and a clamor of raised voices. “We know you’re in there! The lot of you come out, or we blow it down!”

Geneva flung a desperate look at Jim, as if waiting for him to pull some miraculous escape out of his sleeve, some crucial tidbit of information about Silver’s true allegiances that he had just forgotten to tell them. But he had nothing, no answer, as Geneva paused, then strode with utmost poise to the door and unbarred it. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she said with magnificently withering contempt, chin held high and gaze unswerving. “I trust you’ve had a pleasant time?”

“Out, bitch. On deck, now.”

Jim saw a shudder pass through Geneva, even as her spine remained ramrod straight, and thought perhaps he had never admired her more than he did then, anger notwithstanding. But it was her father that he had the greatest bone to pick with, not her, and he was not about to let her face those animals alone. He and Thomas caught each other’s eye, and followed on her heels, Madi bringing up the rear. They ducked out and stood in a regimental line, surrounded to all sides by leering, baying faces, barely recognizable as the rough-mannered but otherwise ordinary men that they had been sailing with to date. It was as if some collective madness had taken over them, some poison in their well, whether given by Anderson or by Silver it was impossible to say. Merry stepped forward, eyes glinting. “Drop the pistols.”

Geneva, Jim, and Thomas obediently put their guns down on the deck boards. Madi remained upright, the bones of her face carved with an almost tangible hatred. “You,” she said. “To think any of us dared to imagine that you might do the right thing for us.”

Silver might have flinched, but it was hard to say. He had shut any hint of himself away behind the mask of Long John, Jim could tell that at once, so his enemies – whoever those were, whether them or the mutineers – could spot not a single crack in his armor. “Cooperate,” he said, “and none of you have to be hurt. We are, after all, proceeding to Skeleton Island as planned, after which you will be returned to your families for a sizable sum. Then we can – ”

Geneva stepped forward and slapped him with all her might, hard enough to turn his head with a crack. Silver took a staggering step back, as a murmur ran around the mutineers, attention very keenly tuned to see how their fearless leader would respond to that. “You,” Geneva breathed, looking almost unearthly, eyes spitting blue fire. “You can rot, and then you can – ”

Silver straightened slowly, rubbing at the red mark on his cheek. One of the mutineers started forward, as if to administer a retaliatory blow to Geneva, and Silver flung out his crutch to stop him. “Back, if you please.”

The tension remained almost sharp enough to cut flesh. Jim had started to stoop for his pistol – if this was to be a fight to the death, he was not intending to go down empty-handed, without a struggle – but stopped at the look that Thomas gave him. The night was mostly gone, and he could see the first stirrings of dawn in the east, a vivid red stain that felt accordingly foreboding. It twisted bloody shadows from their feet, transformed them all into demons cavorting in the candlelight. And by that glow, some distance ahead, lanterns twinkling like small earthbound stars, Jim just managed to recognize the presence of another ship on the horizon.

A mad, untenable idea suddenly gripped hold of him. He had, after all, been in the Navy; he knew the semaphore codes with flags and the like – and more pertinently, the distress signals. That ship wasn’t close enough for him to catch their attention without a flare or something, and setting off one of those would most assuredly catch these bastards’ attention as well. Where the hell was that cask of powder, the one by the capstan that Hands was going to blow up? Jim did not of course intend to finish Hands’ noble work for him, but the fact remained that it had been designed to explode rather spectacularly, and that would be one way of getting the other ship to sit up and pay attention. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought it was under British colors. The Rose flew them too. The others would be honor-bound to come to their assistance.

Jim tried to conceive of any way to communicate this plan to Thomas and Geneva without saying anything, while surrounded by an eagerly murderous horde. He didn’t think either of them had noticed the ship, much less connected it to a potential salvation, and either way, he was going to have to make this work – or not – by himself. Thus, this was going to have to do. He yelled, “Hey, you ugly son of a bitch!” and took a swing at Merry.

As Jim had wanted him to do, Merry swung back wildly, just managing to clip his temple. Jim’s teeth clacked and he saw bloody stars, but it was not a hit that, in the ordinary course of things, would have taken him down. Still, he rolled with it. Let his eyes loll back in his head, forced himself to go limp, and hit the deck like a sack of potatoes. Thought he heard a short, muffled exclamation – possibly from Geneva, but he couldn’t be sure – as everyone took a communal step forward, inches from breaking into a brawl. “No!” Silver shouted. “No, not without my – ”

Jim cracked an eye to be sure nobody was looking at him, reached out, and grabbed hold of one of the pistols on the deck. Massively tempting though it was to drop Silver on the spot, larger concerns beckoned. He rolled backward, just as Geneva glanced over her shoulder, locked eyes with him, and realized that while she might not know exactly what he was doing, it was something. For a moment, he could see her struggle with whether to trust whatever madcap plan he had in mind, and then she turned back. Possibly for a diversion, or possibly just because she wanted to, she slapped Silver again, and the deck degenerated into universal chaos.

Jim reached the capstan and slithered under it, to the sound of shouts and grunts and shoving from behind him – no shots, not yet, but they would not risk killing Geneva or Thomas without Silver’s say-so. Someone had removed the powder barrel, sensibly, but there was still a fine handful that had spilled, and that was all he needed. He tore a twist of cloth off his sleeve, very carefully gathered up the glittering black dust in it, scooted around the far side, and spotted the lantern that had fallen and smashed earlier, while the mutineers were forcing them into the cabin. There was oil oozing from the broken glass, and Jim tore off another piece of cloth from his sleeve and soaked it. Geneva and Thomas (and for that matter, Madi) were still doing a fine job of dusting it up, and nobody had yet looked back for him, so he decided, to use the educated man’s phrase, to carpe the fucking diem. He rolled to his feet, dodged behind the mainmast shroud, and got hold of it, then began to climb. If the other ship had moved out of hailing range, or if one of the mutineers spotted him in the rigging –

No time for that. It was still dark enough that he didn’t cast a visible shadow, and with all the pushing and jostling going on below, nobody thought to look up anyway. For his part, Jim determinedly did not look down – this had not been his favorite part of the job, nor the rest of it really, but especially this – and after a few more moments, scrambled into the crow’s nest. Wrapped the oil-soaked cloth around the one with the powder, knotted it all together, and knew he only had one shot at this, literally. Tossed the improvised flare high into the sky, aimed the pistol at it, and just as it reached the height of its climb and began to tumble, pulled the trigger.

For a heart-stopping moment, the ball vanished in the murk, there was no reaction, and Jim thought he had missed. Then there was a boom and a fire-bright flash, the melee below cut off abruptly as everyone’s attention was jerked sharply overhead, and Jim had to duck as Anderson swung up his rifle and fired at him – missing, but not by much. Then Geneva, nose bleeding and one eye rapidly blackening, let out a roar to make any of her forefathers proud and tackled him, and Jim dove for the old semaphore flags stashed in the crow’s nest – the Rose was a former Navy frigate, so her codes would be the same as the ones Jim knew. He was just as likely to have another mutineer take a potshot at him as soon as he stood up again, but never mind that. He popped to his feet, prayed that the sun was up enough that a man with a spyglass on the deck of the other ship could make him out, and heard another bullet whiz past him in the ropes. Expecting at any moment to be felled by the next, Jim spelled out, as fast as he could, MUTINY.

He squinted desperately at the other ship, hoping to see some sort of acknowledgment, anything, but the light was low and tricky. They looked heavily armed – he could see gun snouts pointing through her ports, and that was definitely the Union Jack at her stern. HELP NOW. Couldn’t tell if they were moving, or perhaps even moving off. NOW FUCK IT!

Another bullet rattled off the topspar, and Jim had to flatten himself back down. He listened desperately for Geneva or Thomas or Madi, since he couldn’t see, but couldn’t pick out anything that was definitively them from the rest of the bedlam. Jesus Christ, one of the mutineers would be up here in another moment to drag him down, and that would be the end of just about –

And then, Jim heard another noise, a low, cracking boom that was plenty bloody recognizable as that of a pair of long nines. It surely had not come from the Rose, so unless a second mystery vessel had suddenly appeared on the scene, it had to be from the ship he had signaled. Jim twisted around to get his eye to a crack in the floor of the crow’s nest, and saw the mutineers scuttling as if water had been poured on an anthill. Some of them were trying to run out the Rose’s own guns, but as most of them were below, there were only a few here, and nothing at hand to load them with. There was another report from the newcomers’ long nines, a boom and flash strafed the deck as men dove for cover, and Jim had just enough time to hope that the ship realized they were supposed to stop the mutineers, not sink them outright. Then there was a third boom almost directly overhead, and he went temporarily deaf.

Ears ringing, struggling to regain his balance from where he had been knocked back by the force of the blast, Jim lay where he was, stared up at the cartwheeling sky, and decided to wait for things to bloody pipe down, at least for a damn minute. Then he heard Geneva’s voice from somewhere below, sharp and choked with fear. “Jim? JIM!”

Instinct made him roll over, intending to answer her, even as the logical part of his brain reminded him that he couldn’t do so without giving away his position. Then he thought to hell with it, the bastards knew where he was anyway, and struggled to his knees. Had just enough time to look over the edge and see her – both eyes now blackened, hair down, nose bleeding harder, and dress ripped and filthy – before Anderson caught sight of him as well, put two and two together as to why someone was now attacking them, and grabbed for another rifle. He was just about to fire it, as Geneva was too far away to get to him in time and Jim found himself somehow unable to do anything but stare at it, when Silver threw his crutch at Anderson like a javelin. The mutineer went down with a curse and a crash, and Silver was on him like a leaping tiger. Swung back the peg leg that Anderson had derided, and slammed it into his skull.

The other ship was almost close enough now for boarders, and grapnel hooks came flying toward the Rose’s railings, trailing ropes and redcoats. They swarmed up the sides, shooting the men who charged at them and clobbering the others over the head with their muskets, as a haze of gun smoke rose into the sullen red dawn. After a frenzied engagement of five or ten minutes, a distorted, thundering quiet began to settle, as one of the soldiers bayoneted the last groaning mutineer smartly through the heart and turned to Thomas. “Your vessel, sir. I trust you’ll mind it the more carefully in the future?”

“I’m…” Thomas looked just as dirty and battle-worn as Geneva, who was still staring at Silver, who had just administered a final, savage blow to Anderson. “We’re grateful, to be sure, but we… may we at least be allowed to know the identity of our rescuers?”

“You may.” Another voice spoke from the deck of the other ship, which by now had almost drawn level with the Rose. It was a tall young man dressed in a fine-cut jacket and breeches of black, with crisp brown hair and brown eyes. “This is the Hispaniola, out of Charlestown, and my name is Lord Gideon Murray, that same city’s governor. In gratitude for your deliverance, perhaps you would come aboard, sir, and inform me of precisely what circumstances caused you to lose control of your vessel? I am afraid our bombardment may have done some damage, so we might have to take you into tow, but that is something else to discuss. Captain?”

Geneva took a step, plainly intending to say that she was the captain, but Thomas shot her a warning look.  While only the most dedicated of the mutineers had been killed, and the rest were looking as dazed and groggy as if they had woken up from a very bad night of drinking, they were still shorthanded and in an extremely precarious position to say the least, and perhaps he felt it wiser that he be allowed to handle any delicate diplomacy. Then he cleared his throat. “I would, Lord Murray. Yes.”

“Good.” Murray gestured to his men still on the Rose, and raised his voice. “Lower the anchor, go the ship over, check for any damages – or anything else interesting you may find. Take your time. The captain and I have a great deal to talk about.”

It was a cool evening, bordering even on chill, as the Nautilus prepared to raise anchor and set out on what would be, if the wind and weather cooperated, a journey of five or six days to Barbados. Potentially even fewer, given as the fast, maneuverable junk could so well outpace traditional square-riggers, and that, Killian thought, was not nearly enough time to prepare oneself for the possibility of coming face to face with Robert Gold again. If the wee bastard was squatting out there in the Caribbean and had been all this time, arranging ambushes or assassination attempts or God alone knew what other devilry, they could (and very much did) intend to lop the head off the snake, but that was no guarantee of safety from all his allies and associates, the sprawling tentacles of whatever new secret society he seemed to have built for himself. He was exactly the sort of man who would ensure that he fixed his mistakes from last time, that it could go on operating even in the event of his own death, and if so, Killian and the rest of the family could spend their lives looking over their shoulders. Perhaps nobody would bother, if the man who had the greatest grudge against them was dead, but that was very slender surety. The magnitude of the task in front of them, the sheer impossibility of digging up every noxious weed that might have taken root, made Killian want to drink. Heavily.

That, however, was not to be his solace. Nemo was going to drop them a few miles north of Bridgetown, so they did not sail bang into the harbor and give themselves away, and after that, well… improvise like hell. Killian could wish for something a bit more tactically sound, but he and Flint remained berserkers at heart in: rush in, scare the bleeding Jesus out of their enemies, and tear their shit comprehensively apart. Liam would fight like an ox, because he was one. Emma and Charlotte could shoot, and Regina, well, somebody needed to get Gold’s attention. His old business partner on Antigua, the brothel madam with whom he had conspired to destroy enemies to their mutual advantage, might just do the trick. Christ, this was going to be awful.

Killian stood by the railing as the Nautilus began to cast off, setting her angled sails to the brisk evening wind. He was not sorry to be leaving Nassau; even a brief visit had more than whetted any nostalgia he might feel for the place. They would have to return at some point to retrieve David, Henry, Violet, and the children, who were staying behind as arranged (and hopefully also Geneva and Thomas), but that, preferably, would also be cursory. And this was his family, the old crowd that had fought together for many years, and was, no matter the circumstances, clearly anticipating one more hoedown. As long as nobody else died.

That was a bloody morbid thought, and Killian tried to push it away. As they skimmed a white track across the placid twilight sea, New Providence Island slowly falling astern, he glanced along the rail to the only newcomer in their coterie, whom he still did not yet know well. “Mrs. Bell, was it? I hope you don’t too much mind being the custodian of all the old geezers.”

Charlotte smiled. “Only if you think you’ll be unable to handle yourself.”

“No, that we should manage.” Hopefully. Killian had acquitted himself well enough in his duel with Rufio – quite well, considering the mohawked little arse was dead – so at least he shouldn’t fall down in a heap of rust on the spot. “I’m told I could have your husband to thank for saving my son?”

“Don’t thank me just yet. We don’t know for sure, only what that cretin Da Souza told us. Jack went after Sam when Da Souza threw him overboard, so…” Charlotte paused, then shrugged. “If I know Jack at all, he’ll have pulled him out, yes. But whether that’s only to get into more trouble elsewhere, I would wager so. Your son seems the similar sort.”

“He does,” Killian admitted. “Comes by it honestly, but still. Will you be going home to Philadelphia when this is over, then?”

“Perhaps. We hadn’t settled on any particular place as a permanent residence just yet. Philadelphia was a good starting point, as there are all sorts there, we would be – well. Considering Jack’s occupation, the fewer questions asked, the better.”

“Aye.” Killian regarded her curiously. “How on earth does an Englishman end up working for the Spaniards?”

“How do two Englishmen turn their colors to become Flint and Hook?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “We all have our reasons, don’t we? And if Jack made enough money and connections, it would be easier to sneak back into France, and – ” At that, however, she seemed to think she’d said too much, and stopped short.

“France? I was just there, on my recent whirlwind tour. A few days in Le Havre, Liam and Regina live in Paris. What is it that interests you in France?”

“Not what,” Charlotte said, after a pause. “Who. But never mind that. Liam – aye, Henry said he would write to his uncle in France, but now that he’s here, he can’t be much help, can he?”

“Wait.” Something pricked at Killian’s memory, his liberation of the young woman from the thugs on the docks, and her insistence that she wanted to get to Philadelphia. “Sorry if you’ve no idea what I’m on about, never mind if so, but would you happen to know an Alix Saint-Clair?”

Charlotte looked as if he’d dropped a bag of bricks on her head. “I – what?”

“Alix – well, I presumed that was her surname, she said her father was Armand Saint-Clair of Montparnasse, and he had sent a few bloody unsavory types to stop her getting a ship. I came across them by accident and assisted in dispatching the ruffians, and in return, she told me who to bribe and how, to get out with Regina. Good bargain for everyone, really, so – ”

“You saw her?” Charlotte looked as if she was only just restraining from grabbing Killian and shaking him until his teeth rattled. “Where is she? Is she all right? Did you see the ship she took? You didn’t hurt her, did you? Did she look well, did she say where she was bound, was it – ”

“Bloody hell, lass, easy. One question at a time. We didn’t talk much, just enough for me to get her name. She said she was making for Philadelphia, I don’t know which ship she booked passage on, or when. I take it, then, you do know her.”

“I – yes. Yes, I do.” Charlotte was pale, but there was a slightly fevered look in her eyes. “Jack and I have been trying to rescue her from her father for a few years now. We came to the colonies after the last attempt backfired. It’s – never mind, it’s a fiendishly long story. She must have managed to break free and try a run for it, but they – are you sure you killed the men after her? They could have caught up to her again, they – ”

“I… didn’t kill them, exactly. I dumped them in the harbor, and bought her some time – I’m fairly sure she made it out, but – ”

“You didn’t kill them?” Charlotte’s brown eyes snapped. Mercy might be accounted a traditionally feminine virtue (though Killian had known too many women to think so himself), but she was plainly having none of it. “Aren’t you Captain Hook? Two more men, what was that? It should have been a leisurely luncheon for you!”

“I was Captain Hook,” Killian said, feeling somewhat hypocritical as he did. He was not about to start arguing that the red in his ledger had been cleansed, but still, he felt that twenty-odd years doing his best to atone for that briefly and catastrophically violent episode in his life had to count for something. Aye, and then you killed Rufio, quick as spit, so don’t go feeling too triumphant just yet. “And I was already wanted for murder, that being why I was lying low. Two more kills would have made my escape all but impossible.”

Charlotte looked as if she was about to say something sharp, but caught herself, though she still huffed an angry breath through her nose. Her lips were thin, her knuckles clenched white, and her disapproval clearly stemmed from the fact that this meant Alix’s escape was not entirely certain, that such a shining prospect could have been dangled within reach and then cruelly snatched away at the last moment. Killian eyed her in even more curiosity. “Who is she to you?”

“My – friend,” Charlotte said. “My dear friend. And her father’s a bloody terrible person, so it’s not as if she’s been having such a lovely time back there.”

“Of course.” Killian could see the sense of Jack joining the Spaniards in that case, as they could get much closer to France than the Bourbon cousins’ common enemies in England, but it still seemed a queer lot of trouble to go to for just one young woman, no matter how fetching. And as Charlotte had said earlier, he knew something about a man turning his back on his native country, and that it only came from bitter rage and betrayal. “You’re lucky to have a husband willing to fight so hard for you and your friend, lass. I hope we can find him for you.”

Charlotte smiled again, with considerable wryness. “I’m less worried about Jack,” she said, “and rather more for anyone with whom he’s crossed paths. He has… quite a temper.”

“Never hurt you, I hope?”

“No!” Charlotte looked startled. “No, no, of course not. We rely on each other, we protect each other – and Cecilia. We… we weren’t intending to take her along. My brother and his wife helped me and Jack get married, and then they were carried off by typhus a fortnight later. Cecilia was orphaned, and she… would not have done well by herself in England. She’d already been disinherited by her grandparents, my kind and loving mum and dad, because my brother had married so unfathomably far beneath him. Jack and I weren’t going to leave her, especially after what they had done for us, so she came along. I’m – not much of a mother, but I try.”

“I’m sure you do your best, lass.” Killian kept telling himself to bugger off, but the more Charlotte revealed, the more intrigued he became. “How did you and Jack meet, anyway?”

“My brother was supposed to marry his sister,” Charlotte said, after another of those pauses that seemed to indicate she had found him worthy of her confidence and elected to continue. “Well, half-sister, but never mind that. My father was Captain Benjamin Goode of the Royal Navy, and Jack is – was – the son of Captain Jonathan Howe, God curse his bones. Illegitimate, and treated so that he might never once forget that fact. I… disagreed with my parents’ own plans for my future. We had much in common.”

“I see.” Killian frowned. He had known Jonathan Howe in passing; they had met a time or two in the Admiralty, as the man had been a contemporary of him and Liam. He also recalled that Howe was one of the captains that Liam had sworn the most never to be like, one of the worst of a generally bad lot. “Both Navy brats then, are you?”

“Were,” Charlotte said again. Like him, she did not seem at all keen for the association to be emphasized. “I suspect you know something about how they make their own monsters.”

“Aye.” Killian could not deny that, and with that, glimpsed another part of Jack’s motivation for switching sides. “Is that the other reason your husband took up with the Spaniards? Thinking to come across his father, and kill him? Is Howe still on active duty – he’d be at least pension age now, but with the war, I know they’re hard up for captains – ”

“I think he is, yes.” Charlotte seemed even more reluctant to broach this subject. “It’s what he’s said he wants more than anything, and I have no reason to disbelieve him.”

“But?”

Charlotte looked as if this was the point she was finally going to tell him to mind his own bloody business, but still she didn’t. Perhaps whatever this was, she had kept it to herself for ages, borne the weight of it alone, and she wanted it off her chest. At last she said, “Howe’s dead. I killed him before we left England. Took a coach to his house in the night, posed as a young woman needing shelter, and he invited me in – though not at all, I suspect, because he intended to give it to me. I had my pistol under my cloak. When he suggested I get out of my wet clothes, I told him who I was and why I was there. Then I shot him, knocked over the pokers and fire-irons to make a clatter, and fled from the room screaming that the master had fallen and hit his head. By the time the servants presumably realized otherwise, I was long gone, and none of them had gotten a good look at my face. We set sail two days later. Jack doesn’t know.”

Killian was both impressed and considerably chilled at this, the presence of mind that Charlotte had displayed in planning her kill and the matter-of-fact, cold-blooded way in which she had carried it out. Nobody could argue with Howe deserving it, but to say the least, this seemed like something she should have shared with her husband, relieving him of the burden of vengeance, to know that he was not at risk of suddenly coming face to face with his old enemy the way Killian dreaded coming to grips with Robert Gold. Aye, and I killed my own father, just as Jack wants to do to his. He tried to banish the ghost of Brennan Jones, but could not quite.

There was a heavy silence as the Nautilus continued on into the falling night. Emma called from the captain’s cabin, beckoning them to supper with Nemo, but Killian raised his hand, to tell her that they would be just a moment. He looked back at Charlotte, who had pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders, trying to guess at her motivation. Clearly she cared for Jack a great deal, to slay his dragon so that he would not have to, but then why not just tell him? Killian knew it was frightening to confess one’s darkest sins – knew it more than most – but when it was something that should have been gratefully received… or perhaps quite the opposite…

“You think he’d be angry at you,” Killian said after a moment, very quietly. “For cheating him of his vengeance. And yet, it’s the vengeance you need. If he’s not, if he does not have that rage to keep him where he is, doing what he is doing, he might stop. He might turn away before he’d managed to rescue Alix. And you won’t take that chance, will you?”

Charlotte stared at him. She looked stunned, but she did not look confused, or insist that she did not know how he could have reached that conclusion. Finally she said, “I suppose I cannot be surprised that a man of your… experience would work that out. I know it’s a bloody unfair thing to do to him, you don’t need to tell me so. But I felt that if he would discover vengeance had been done for him, that I had given as much as I had taken… it would sort out, in the end. I would do his, and he would do mine. The scales would balance.”

“I’m not one to answer what any other man would think of it,” Killian said. “And it could be that he will yet see it your way. Love can make us do all sorts of mad and dangerous and destructive things, but that’s not to be glorified, or exalted. I don’t mean to lecture you, lass, but it alone isn’t a justification for anything and everything we could ever do. And it’s not healthy or normal or good, to be locked in a spiral of destruction, whether you love someone or not. That’s why they all die in the end in Romeo and Juliet, because that’s not a bloody love story. Take it from me.”

“You’re telling me that?” Charlotte raised both eyebrows. “You?”

“Aye, and it was bloody hard-learned. I love my family, my wife, my children, more than life itself, and yes, if it came to it, I would do whatever I had to in order to protect them, just as you would. But I don’t want you to think you can keep living that way, you can excuse anything you do because you convince yourself it is for someone else, it can’t really be a crime. You called me Hook – well, so did the Lost Boys, and it’s true. If I’m telling you this, it’s not from some high horse. It’s because I’ve done it myself, I have for years, and if nothing else, all this grey hair should mean I’ve learned a godforsaken thing or two. I’m trying to mend what I’ve wrought with my brother, and… he’s here, and we’ve agreed to make a start at it, but I still don’t know if I can. I don’t want that for you, lass. Even as I am sure you love Alix.”

Charlotte started. “I beg your pardon?”

“Alix,” Killian repeated. “I didn’t think we were talking about Jack, were we?”

This did appear to have in fact finally shocked her. “He is my husband,” she said weakly. “Shouldn’t we be?”

“By my lights, it isn’t Jack that you’re going to all these lengths for.” Killian regarded her thoughtfully. “You need him, and I’ve no doubt he needs you, but what it is – it’s not what you two want everyone to think, is it? He does, of course, know?”

Charlotte hesitated for a final moment, then gave up the ghost. “Yes,” she said tightly. “It’s Alix. And yes, Jack knows. The only way to get me out – my father was talking about doing the same as Monsieur Saint-Clair had, especially after my brother ran off and married a colored woman, of all the insults to the noble house of Goode – was to marry someone else first, and have my husband pull rank. Jack agreed. He needed to escape as well, obviously. So we did.”

“I see.” Killian considered. “The others don’t know this, do they?”

“Mrs. McGraw knows. A bit. I told her on the way down to Nassau, that Jack and I were… well, what we were, and some of why we had to leave England. As for the rest, it is our own business, and I will thank you to keep it that way.”

“I won’t spill your secrets, lass,” Killian promised her. “But you don’t need to fear us. Believe me, none of us are excessively beholden to the church’s views on – bloody well anything, really, but the lot of us were pirates. I can promise we’ve no interest in appointing ourselves the sheriffs of your bedchamber arrangements. Especially when it sounds, to be frank, quite familiar. Is it the three of you together, then?”

A faint blush climbed Charlotte’s cheeks. “Overlooking the fact that it is none of your bloody business,” she said crisply, “it’s me and Alix. Jack is my friend – my best friend, really – and we do sleep together, but not in a marital sense of the word.”

“Ah.” Killian had somewhat suspected this, but everything made considerably more sense to have it confirmed. “And one day you would not mind, if he was to find his own partner?”

“Of course not,” Charlotte said. “Though I’d be surprised if he ever did. He’s a right pain in the arse, I imagine I’m the only one who can tolerate him, and that with repeated kicking.”

Killian laughed despite himself. “Well, as I said, I won’t tell anyone, though likewise, no one would think any less of you for it. Think about what I’ve said, lass, eh? I don’t want you to have to learn all this the way I did, by falling out of the tree and hitting every branch on the way down. And if we do find Jack – tell him, all right? About his father. Or at least try. The two of you may not be lovers, but it’s a hard thing you’re asking of him on your behalf, and he deserves to know the truth. We’ll keep our promises, we’ll help free Alix if for some reason she didn’t get away from Le Havre after all. You don’t need to leave it all on his shoulders.”

Charlotte considered, then nodded once. But as they turned toward the cabin to go in for supper, she said quietly, “You should have killed those men that were after her. If they recovered, if they caught her again, if they made sure that this time she can never get away – or God forbid, worse – you can be quite sure that I will not forget.”

No, Killian considered sadly, she would not, even as he had not. And thought again of her story of killing Captain Howe, how carefully and calmly and remorselessly she had, not lost a wink of sleep over it since, and could not suppress a chill that had nothing to do with the night.

Sam was almost rethinking his commitment to vengeance by the time he made it to the top of the hill. In his defense, it was a bloody long hill, and it was also very steep, and his much-overworked legs were burning as he jogged to a halt just out of the line of sight from the mansion, well hidden in the trees. Gold appeared to have added, to say the least, a few more guards, and as Sam stared at the formidable gauntlet of steel and torches, he wondered if justice could be considered served if he just took out a few of those blokes and ran away, rather than trying to squeeze through that sphincter-clenching bit of nonsense. But almost at once, sense reasserted itself. Cowardice was the last acceptable reason for failure. It was in there, or nothing.

Sam tried to study the defenses with a practiced military eye, which was difficult since he did not actually possess one. Even he, much as it vexed him, could see that he was going to require some sort of coherent plan to get in there, and would have to know precisely what he was doing once he arrived. As well, he was extremely curious to know what exactly Billy Bones and his terrifying lady friend were doing there – they having reached the villa a few minutes ago, disembarked, and gone inside – and he would be extremely annoyed if their plan also involved killing Gold, since that was his big huzzah. Somehow, though, he did not think so. The wee Scottish prick was far more valuable alive. At least to them.

“Look,” Jack said in his ear, making him jump. “We’re not getting through that, and we’d have to fight the full house even if we did. Come on. Let the other two idiots do what they’re doing, and sit back and wait. If we’re lucky, they’ll handle it for us.”

“I don’t want them to handle it for us.” Sam remained staring up at the walls with hot, baleful eyes. “Besides, even if they did kill him – and I don’t think so – that still leaves us with another problem. I think that’s Billy Bones, and as I told you in Nevis, he’s the one that hates my grandpa. If he bought the maps from Mr. Kerr, the ones that could lead to Skeleton Island – well, that’s you sorted, but I still have to stop him before he does whatever else he’s planning.”

“That’s me sorted?” Jack scowled at him. “The fuck do you mean by that?”

“I mean that if he has the map, you’re going to take it back to Havana and give it to Güemes like a good spy, so he knows I didn’t break my word and he doesn’t order me or my family hunted down. I’m not having anyone else I love endangered because of you, and then you get out of this what you came along for. See? Everybody wins.”

Jack looked briefly flummoxed. “I – even if I did do that, how am I supposed to get the map, or know it’s the right one? Tiptoe up behind Bones and fish it out of his pocket?”

“You’re the soldier, you work it out. Punch him, or whatever.”

“Punch him? Did you see the size of that bloke?”

“So? You’re not a French maid, you can deal with it.” Sam was getting edgy at this continued delay between himself and his presumably spectacular wrath upon Gold. “Like I said, that’s what you want, and you seem quite bloody resourceful. Don’t hang around waiting for me to give you a goodbye kiss. Maybe if the Spaniards retrieve some of their lost treasure, they’ll pipe down for a bit. They’re your friends, remember?”

“They’re not my friends, they – ” Jack seemed to decide that no good could come of this argument. “Jesus Christ, can you just let me save your fucking life?”

Sam gave him his best impression of his grandfather’s icy stare. He was not entirely sure how to answer that – he didn’t want to die, but it also seemed a remote, abstract concept that had no real bearing on his actions or choices – and he knew he would be pulverized if he charged in alone, but Jack’s irritating new lark as the Prick of Conscience (prick here to be understood in more ways than one) was getting on his bloody nerves. Finally he said, “If you want to help me, help me do this. Then you can do – well, I don’t care, really. But first things first.”

“We’re still not getting in there without an army or at least several small cannons, so – ”

“Oh,” Sam said. “I think we are.”

And with that, before Jack had time to raise any more stupid objections, Sam grabbed him in a headlock, administered a swift rabbit punch to the kidneys, and marched him out into the light of the torches. “Hey!” he bellowed. “Hey, you lot! I’ve got the man who attacked Lord Robert on the road the other day!”

Jack made a muffled noise and struggled energetically, almost breaking free, at which point Sam was obliged to punch him again. This at least had the effect of selling their charade somewhat more convincingly, especially since Jack had not been tipped off beforehand that it was one. Sam hung onto Jack as tenaciously as a barnacle, as the very surprised guards stared down at him. Some of them might know who he was, but all the new recruits might not, and there was a certain confused amount of muttering as they tried to decide what to do. One obvious solution presented itself, however, and within a few more moments, a few of the men were striding out, cutlasses and pistols held vigilantly at the ready, to grab hold of Jack by the scruff. As they were doing so, one of them goggled at Sam. “Wait, aren’t you – ”

“Aye,” Sam said, putting his hands up. “That’s me. I’ve come back to surrender.”

Jack shot him an absolutely malevolent look under his tangled black hair, which Sam did his best to ignore. He had wagered that they couldn’t risk shooting him before they brought him to Gold, and if they were too thick to scent something mildly suspicious about such a convenient capitulation, all the better. He was even able to feel mildly proud of himself as they were frog-marched up the lawn, though he had to see about acquiring a weapon in the near future. The logical place was to wrestle one away from the guards, but he would have to do it only when they were in front of Gold and he had a clear shot. He’d be overpowered too fast otherwise.

They passed under the portico of the governor’s mansion, just as Matthew Rogers had brought them the first time, and Sam had to fight a brief sense of dislocation, the grief for Nathaniel that he had wadded into a small ball and stuffed away into the corner until this was over. He couldn’t yet think about a world without his best friend, with no more adventures, with no more simple reliance that he would wake up and run down to the Hunts’ house and have all be right with his world for the rest of the day. It felt like the most shattering way to leave childhood behind that could be imagined, and he didn’t want to think how he’d go about telling Nathaniel’s parents and Isabelle. If they blamed him, they would be well within their rights to do so. He did. But I’ll avenge him. I’ll kill Gold. I’ll be able to tell them that, at least.

They reached the sitting room, and the guard holding Sam rapped briskly on the door. “M’lord? I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’ll want to see this.”

“Come in,” a voice called sweetly. Not Gold’s. A woman’s.

The guard paused, then opened the door, and Sam got a good look at what appeared to be the most awkward tea party of all time. Gold, looking like a treed cat, was perched on the edge of his settle as if about to spring up and run, while Billy Bones and the dark-haired woman sat across from him in matching striped armchairs. Nobody had touched their drinks, evidently in fear of next clutching their throat and dying of poison, and the atmosphere in the room was nearly suffocating enough to be lethal on its own. Enjoyable as it was to see Gold so off his guard, that meant that his visitors (or perhaps visitor, given the way his gaze was fixed on the woman) were correspondingly more dangerous, and that was a problem. He looked up, and clearly could not even gloat as much at the sight of Sam and Jack as he would otherwise have wanted to. “Gentlemen,” was finally the best he could manage. “So you’ve decided to grace us with your presence again, have you?

“Introduce us to your friends, Robert.” The woman gave a syrupy little giggle that set Sam’s teeth on edge. “You know my fondness for fine young lads, don’t you?”

Gold looked as if he was about to refuse – heaven knew why, it couldn’t be to protect them – and Billy casually cracked his knuckles. However clever he was at convoluted plots and evil schemes and suchlike, Robert Gold was clearly not about to hazard his physical person against a man-mountain like Bones, even with his guards standing there. “Very well,” he said through gritted teeth. “Gentlemen, my sister, Lady Fiona Murray, and her recently traitorous henchman, William Fitzgilbert Bones the Fourth. My lady, sir, may I present Jack Bellamy and Samuel Jones?”

“Jones?” Billy’s eyes turned sharp as a blade. “Are you Emma Swan’s son?”

Sam could not see much point to denying it, especially with Gold sitting right there and ready to confirm it. “Aye,” he said ungraciously. “I know you and my mum were friends once, a long time ago, before you turned into the world’s biggest dick. And that’s not a compliment, either.”

“You’re a brave little boy, aren’t you?” Lady Fiona’s dark eyes glittered as she took him in from head to toe. “That must have been your uncle Liam we met back in Bristol. He was also quite fond of speaking his mind to me at repeated intervals. Escaped, actually, so we’re presently one Jones short, but I suspect you will do just as well. As for your friend, oh, I have plenty of ideas for him.”

Jack said something in Spanish that, at least from what Sam could understand, was very, very colorful. Then he said something else, which was more so.

“Tut, tut.” Lady Fiona appeared to be enjoying herself inordinately, which was always a bad thing. Sam was well aware that he was the one who had insisted on marching them in here to this veritable viper’s nest, and if he was going to kill Gold, now was the moment to make his move. But it would be bloody hard to get one of the guards’ rifles and a clean shot, and… well, much as he insisted to himself that he didn’t care, they would almost certainly kill Jack on the spot. Not to mention, him. And he still had to do something about Billy, so he couldn’t just go out in a suicidal blaze of glory after having shot Gold. Why didn’t Jack just go down to their ship and see if Billy left the map on board, or – or whatever? Why did he have to insist on coming after me?

“Well,” Lady Fiona said, when nobody else spoke. “Pack your things, Robert. It’s time to go.”

“And you think I’m coming with you?” Gold’s lip curled. “Sis?”

“No, I don’t suppose you would.” Lady Fiona’s dark red lips split over kittenish white teeth. “But then, you wouldn’t get to see your son, would you?”

Silence crackled after these words as if in the wake of a lightning strike. Whatever color there had been in Gold’s face fled, nearly that fast. He seemed to be trying to say something, but couldn’t even think of how to get his tongue around it. Then he croaked only, “What?”

“Oh yes. Your son. How cruel of me not to tell you earlier.” Lady Fiona shook her head, dripping in faux sympathy. “His name is Gideon. Never knew about him after you were imprisoned following that little disaster on Nassau, did you? Belle wanted you far away from her and her child, so she never sent word. Then she left, which was quite sad. Wanted to see the world. But your boy had a good home. I adopted him, raised him as my own. He’s done well for himself in life – he’s now the lord governor of Charlestown, can you imagine? Billy here has met him, he can attest to it. Isn’t that a funny little coincidence?”

Gold was too stunned to answer. His guards took a step, but he waved them off, and they subsided, confused. If he wasn’t such a lying murderous bastard who was determined to destroy the world and murder everyone that anyone loved, Sam might have almost felt sorry for him. But he was, so he didn’t. He couldn’t deny that he was enjoying seeing someone else pull the rug out on Lord High Manipulative Wanker himself, but… anyone actually crazier than Gold, as he was fast getting the sense Lady Fiona was, possessed the ability to make things even worse for them, and… well, he still needed to take care of Billy, he didn’t want to get beaten again, and he was feeling oddly guilty about getting Jack into this – but the stubborn git had had plenty of opportunities to walk away, plenty, why was he still – why were they still –

“Oh, and you,” Lady Fiona said, snapping her fingers and pointing at Jack and Sam. “You two are absolutely coming with us.”

[retschina]

In a heartbeat - Part 3

Part 1: https://retschina.tumblr.com/post/162197697843/in-a-heartbeat

Part 2: https://retschina.tumblr.com/post/162558093098/the-charmer-in-a-heartbeat-part-2

Admitting that you’ve spent the last 12 hours with thinking about being fucked-or-loved-or-both by Happy is embarrassing, but also the truth.

Sex was okay, back then, before the life-changing heartbeat. Not bad, not good. Just okay. You didn’t waste a thought on finding a wheelchair-compatible boyfriend/husband/lover/whatever. You have had other problems. Until the second Happy mentioned you needed to be fucked. So, is he right? Do you need a thorough fucking?

You stare at the wall, your fingers fumbling with the straps of a sport bag.

“God, yes,” you whisper. “I need this. But ... I can’t, can I?”

You see yourself lying limp on a bed, staring at the ceiling, you hear a man moaning, working for his pleasure – and you feel nothing, like you weren’t there. Like watching porn. You are a breathing fuck doll, miserable and boring. He can not want this, never ever. He’s crazy. What kind of freak you have to be to chose a partner you have to treat like ...

“Something very precious and fragile,” a voice behind you says and you noticed you’ve been talking to yourself.

Freak that you are.

You look over your shoulder and make a face: “A crabby zombie without legs, winning a fucking gold medal for 100-metres-bad-mood. That’s the picture I had in mind, Sheriff Unser.”

“Wayne, if you don’t mind. The club asked me to give you a lift. They’re busy with your apartment.”

“I’m good with Wayne.” You give him a sad smile and continue: “I’m waiting for my brother. He’s going to pick me up and drive me home to Leavenworth.”

“Don’t think so, Y/N. Got your bags packed?” He asks and grabs a suitcase: “I’m loading up the truck. It would be nice if you call your brother and tell him that his cabdriver qualities are not needed.”

You roll your eyes, but you do what you’re told. This isn’t Wayne’s idea, so you’ll have to talk to Happy, the father of this totally crazy plan. You’re gonna talk to him right after inspecting the apartment. You can go home to Kansas whenever you want. In two hours, maybe, or next week.

Half an hour later Wayne parks the truck in front of a small house in a bourgeois neighborhood.

“Here. On the left,” Wayne says, just as you didn’t notice the moving van in the driveway and your very own fucking couch standing on the lawn.

“I can’t move in here. I can’t mow the lawn,” you say, shaking your head.

God, please, shut up, you think, biting on your lower lip. As if the damn lawn would be your biggest problem.

“Guess Happy will be on garden duty,” Wayne grins, patting your thigh.

Which you wouldn’t notice if you hadn’t seen it. Oh, fuck it.

“He’s not the lawn-mowing-type of a guy,” you answer darkly, but your mood lifts up as you see him coming out of the front door.

“Baby,” he says, opening your seatbelt and lifting you up like nothing.

“Oh, uhm, thank you, Wayne!” You call over Happy’s shoulder and he waves at you, giving you a smile.

Happy carries you over the driveway, giving a short nod to the right: “Garden.”

“I’m able to see that, Hap,” you answer and he steps over the threshold.

“Hallway. Kitchen and pantry on the right, bathroom and laundry on the left. All accessible with a wheelchair. Extra wide doors. Living room, home office and bedroom are on the backside.”

He steps into the bedroom where a king size bed you’ve never seen before dominates the room.

“Your bed?” You ask and he places you carefully on the edge.

“No. Yours, baby. This is 38 Magnolia Drive, I live in No. 81.”

“You don’t live here?” You ask feeling surprised.

“Course not. Forcing you to live with a stranger is a no go, even for me.”

“How much’s the monthly rental fee?”

“200 bucks.” Happy says, shrugging.

“You’re kidding. 200 bucks for a house? A whole house with a garden in this neighborhood? Never ever, Happy. I’m not that stupid. Where’s the catch in it?” You ask, folding your arms.

“No catch. The house is property of the club and already paid, so ... You’re gonna work home office for CaraCara.”

“What the fuck is CaraCara?”

“Porn production. One of our business dealings.” Happy states, folding his arms too.  

“Oh, I see ... I pay only 200 bucks for this house and for this I have to star in some creepy wheelchair porn? Did I get that right? Fuck you, Lowman, you can keep the house for yourself, asshole! I’m going back to Kansas!”

You wish you could just storm out of the room, but ... shit, you can’t. Not even drive out. No wheelchair. You’re trapped, goddammit! You hate this so much, the helplessness, the slowness, the feeling of being dependent on someone. On Happy in this very moment, to be exact, on the man who wants to make you a porn star. Your eyes fill with tears and you scream your frustration towards the ceiling: “Oh, fuck you! FUCK YOU! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“What? No!” Happy barks. “Are you crackbrained, woman? Who said you should do porn movies, huh?”

“You did!” You scream, and the tears start to stream over your cheeks.

“I didn’t say you should do porn movies, crazy chick,” he says calmly after about ten seconds of silence in which he listened to your miserable sobbing. “I said you’re gonna work home office for CaraCara. Accountants’ department. That’s all.”

“What?”

He sits down next to you, taking your hand in his.

“Stop crying, baby. Crazy chick. You’re gonna work some office stuff for CaraCara. You won’t even see one single porn star, neither dressed nor naked.”

“I don’t mind porn stars.”

“Then we’re good?”

“I don’t know ...,” you whisper. “I just don’t know.”

“Do you like the house?” Happy asks and you nod: “Yes, it’s cool. Beautiful.”

“Okay. So, welcome home, baby.” He gives you a small smile and kisses your temple.

And you? Start crying again.

[askia---1-blog]

Seraisis the final judgement part one

"Where am I?"I looked around shielding my eyes trying to get them to adjust to the blinding light which seemed to be coming from everywhere and was starting to make my eyes ache, I try to stand up and feel my legs give out from under me. "Hello I am Seraisis but you can call me ser, I assume you are confused you humans always are." I heard a deep voice say from behind me, I turn around and blink my eyes trying to get them to adjust to the dark figure standing over me. As they did I realised it was a man in a cleanly pressed Grey suit with dark Green eyes and short Brown hair he had his hand out reached to help me up, I grabbed it and pulled myself up off the floor. "Yes I am confused how did I get here the last thing I remember is." I stop trying to remember what happened my stomach turned and I started to wish I hadn't, the last thing I remember is standing on the roof of the eight story appartment building I lived in ready to end it all and with no one there to stop me i did. "Am am I in the hospital or a mental Institution or s'somthing where a I?" I stammered "You are dead and this is what I like to call the in between, the place where your soul comes to get judged by me Seraisis the almighty judge of those who are too stupid to value their lives, I get to decide what happens to your soul so you better have been good cause it's too late to change anything." he said "You decide where my soul ends up." I asked hoping he would say no and start laughing praying that this was some kind of joke or prank no such luck. "Yes I do with the help of Amari of course." while he's talking I look behind him to see a girl in her early twenties about the same age as me with long curly black hair and brown eyes appear standing next to him as if only becoming visable at the mention of her name. "There are three places your soul may end up the first is the pyrosphere located at the center of your planet, it is a place of eternal fire, hate and pain." he explained "you mean hell?" I asked frightened at the thought that hell might be real. "Yes that is one of many names given to it by you humans. The last place your soul may go is," "heaven." Amari barged in and finished his sentence for him. "Let me talk Amari its not your turn yet, that is also a false name given to it by you humans it's true name is Senova or in your language oasis in the clouds." he said looking at the white nothingness above. "The last place your soul may end up is the world of the living.""you mean I can go back?" I yelled cutting him off "You can but don't be mistaken being banished to the world of the living is a lonely existence, you will be completely alone forced to watch the world go on without you. Now if your done with the questions shall we begin Maria?" As he says this his eyes faded turning as white as the room around us. "Don't worry they're supposed to do that they'll change colors alot as we review your life we'll be starting with your first lie." the room around us began to warp and change into a familiar scene the apartment I grew up in "But mom it wasn't me!" I heard a kid's voice yell from the kitchen, I turn to see who it is and realise it's my own voice I heard looking down at my four year old self "Well if it wasn't you then who was it?" I heard my mom's voice yell back as I saw her I burst out in years I hadn't seen her since she died of brain damage from a bad car accident when I was fourteen, but here she looks healthy so different compared what me and my sister had grown used to visiting her in the hospital. "It was Sam!" I yelled pointing at my sister who is two years older than me. "Well well well a little white lie to avoid a whooping, your mother believed you cause she thought you couldn't reach the cabinet with your favorite cookies, but you stood on the counter didn't you?" Ser asked his eyes turning a blue and green color like a clear ocean with seaweed at the bottom. "Yes and I ate the cookies till my stomach started to hurt and got rid of the rest in the outside trash."I answered wiping away my tears "seems pretty normal to me." Amari said "I agree what's next?" Ser asked Amari "Next up there's a first cussword."  the room started to shift and fall turning into a new scene my second grade class "Maria it's your turn to come finish the problem on the board." Ms.Tussey who was my teacher at the time told me "NO!"my five year old self replied "And why not young lady." my teacher said back"cause maybe I don't want to you bitch!" I yelled at her, some of my classmates start giggling I laugh with them. "Go to the guidance office right now young lady." Ms.Tussey told me "I know where you got that one," Ser started as he did his eyes began changing from the ocean color and swirling into A stormy grey color. "A drunken, verbally abusive father."he finished. "next we have marias first fight." Amari told him the room began to change again this time turning into the playground outside of my elementary school my sister was under the monkey bars fighting the school bully and her younger sister, I see my 11 year old self come running from the slide on the other side of the playground I grab the bully's sister pulling her off my sister and hit her in the face and chest as hard as I can her face began to bleed but she wouldn't give up she hit my chin I get dazed and passed out. The room around darkens into an inky black, the only thing I could see was ser's glowing eyes as they changed from the the stormy gray to a sky blue. "Loyal even when it can get you hurt that's a good and respectable quality to have."he said "This memory is kinda weird ser I can't tell what's wrong with it yet it but doesn't seem to be her memory." Amari said "It's fine lets get into it." he told her the began to light up and come back into color turning into my best friend Jordan's garage where his parents kept their stash of weed, I snuck out the house that night around 10:00 to meet him. "Here dude you go first." my now seventeen year old self said handing him back the box after he showed me the cool eyeball bong that apparently changes colors when you smoke out of it. "Alright here." he grabbed the sandwich bag full of weed and filled the bong up half way then he grabed the lighter and started smoking, I payed attention to see if I could figure out how to do it without choking up a lung. "Here your turn" he said handing me the bong letting out smoke, I put the lighter to the bong and took a deep breath in, my lungs started to burn immediately making me cough and choke. "Your supposed to pull it into your mouth first then inhale slowly it doesn't hurt when I do it like that." he said holding back his laughter. I tried again this time doing what he said it worked I got so high I couldn't even remember what happened after we finished smoking but the memory went on. "Well we should head back now, i'm kinda hungry." Jordan said stuffing the box back in it's hiding place but as he did he felt something hidden behind the shelf where he sat the box. "What's this?" he said pulling out a small black metal box. From behind the small shelf he brought it over to the workbench we were sitting at and opened it "Woah is this thing real?" I asked grabbing a small revolver out from the box "I dunno maybe." he answered reaching for it, I pull the further from his hand and tried to check if it was loaded like they do on tv, but I couldn't figure it out so I just gave up and instead tried to have alittle  Jordan with it. "This is the Sheriff put your hands up your surrounded." I said playfully holding the gun up to him. "Alright alright you caught me just watch where you point that thing sheriff." he said putting his hands up. "I'm taking you in Jordan Humphries the most wanted man this side of the west." I said gesturing to the door leading outside into his back yard his parents were out of town so we had free reign over the entire house, half of which was under construction so some places just had rebar supports and pipes that would make for a perfect jail cell, I was walking him across the yard to one of these rooms when he quickly turned around and yelled. "You'll never take me alive copper." he grabbed for the gun and I instinctively pull the trigger and made gun sound with my mouth but it was drowned out by the sound of the gun actually going off the bullet flew hitting Jordan in the stomach. "Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh jordan are you okay oh God oh God please be ok." I run and bend down next to him covering the wound as best I can with my hand. "Come on you can't die on me please." I beg crying harder than I ever had trying to stop the bleeding, But it was no use Jordan slowly stoped breathing. "This is where the anomaly begins ser the memory changes into someone else's." Amari said pointing at my younger self. "Well what is it Amari?"he asked sternly "I think it's another personality ser." she replied "Another personality what are you talking about this can't be real it can't I don't remember any of this." I said confused about what I just saw "Just listen." she said "But I don't hear anything." I told her but then I realised it my younger self stoped crying and began dragging Jordan's body toward The Unfinished pool. "No this isn't real Jordan isn't dead he just ran away." I said "Uh oh it seems Jessica has been very bad." ser said chuckling under his breath "Jessica?" I asked "Yes that is way your other personality named herself." Jessica made it to the giant hole and droped Jordan's body in he hit the bottom with a loud thud, she then went back into the garage and grabbed a shovel and began burying him under a thin layer of dirt, she then wiped the gun off on her shirt and dropped it on top and covered it in another more thick layer of dirt. By the time she was done it was about 3:40am we continued to followed her as she went back to my house and stripped down to her underwear in the back yard she then threw the clothes onto the grill and covered them in lighter fluid. "Your pretty smart aren't you?" ser asked as his eyes changed again this time to a dark orange color. "That isn't me." I replied angrily "Why of course not I was talking to her I guess I have two souls to judge now." he says pointing over my shoulder I turn around to see myself as if I were looking in a mirror but it wasn't me it was her Jessica standing right here with us. "I'm sorry I tried to protect us." she said lighting a match I look back to see my younger self set the pile clothe's on fire

[phanwritings]

Prayin’

Tittle: Prayin'

Word Count: 6.3K

Description: Dan was a seventeen year old boy with religious parents and a crush on his best friend.

Warnings/Triggers: Being caught, being outed, unsupportive parents, being kicked out, themes of homophobia. (There is a happy ending though!)

A/N: I've spent the past three days writing this, I hope you enjoy it. It has a lot of my life experiences in it. Also, I suck at endings and didn't know how to properly end it. Soz.

Read it on ao3 or wattpad if you’d like! They always get updated first btw 

*

"No, I can't be gay. They don't want me to be gay," he cried, trying to hide his face. Dan didn't want anyone to notice he was crying, even though someone was bound to. He was sat in the principal's office, his English teacher, principal, best friend and maybe boyfriend Phil, and the guidance counselor crowded around him. Dan wished they would give him some space.

Him and Phil had gotten caught kissing underneath the bleachers by the English teacher during 5th period, which was why they were in the office. The office normally would have called their parents but considering the fact that both of their parents were extreme Christians decided against it. The principal had then called the guidance counselor up to come and speak to them. "My parents are gonna kill me. Please don't tell them, please."

Dan tried to hide another sob, shuddering in the chair. He could feel everyone's gaze on him. It was nerve-wracking. Phil hesitantly placed his hand on Dan's back, rubbing it up and down, clearly trying to be soothing. When his parents heard he was going to be kicked out, he was sure of it.

*

WEEKS EARLIER

"Class! Please pay attention!" The teacher demanded at the front of the class. "For our new assignment we will be studying how music can affect mostly silent scenes in TV shows and movies. This will be a week long project, due this Friday, and will be a test grade. You may pick one partner, I have to approve the partnership before you start working. You will both receive the same test grade, pick wisely. You may begin."

Dan quickly glanced to Phil, knowing for certain that they would pick each other. They always did. His gaze met with Phil's and he nodded, granting Dan permission to get approval from the teacher. Dan walked up to her desk, noticing how Phil quickly moved to get a laptop from the cart. He loved how quickly they worked together.

Dan walked back to their desk, Phil now having the laptop set up. "My place tonight?" Dan asked Phil as he slid into his seat. "We can order pizza and knock this project out in a few hours. If we do it again tomorrow night we'll be done and then we can have this class period for the rest of the week to do our homework during the day."

"I love how your brain works," Phil grinned. "Let me text my mom during break, it should be fine though. We're both guys, not like we'll do anything when your parents aren't home." Phil laughed.

"Yeah," Dan gave a weak smile and tried to give a convincing laugh, probably failing dramatically.

*

"I can't believe we didn't have any homework today," Dan exclaimed as they started the walk to his house. "That's never happened before!"

Phil laughed, speeding up so he could keep up with Dan who had started to skip. "I know! We might be able to finish our project tonight, then we'd have almost the entire week free!"

"Can you imagine? We could get a start on our homework every day, or maybe read, it would be great!" You could call them both nerds but they loved to stay ahead in school. It was something important to the both of them, and probably one of the reasons they clicked so well together. They had been friends since grade school, meeting after Dan moved from across the country. It was frightening and overwhelming, to say the least.

Dan had just walked onto the playground for the first time. It was a dreadful day. Dan didn't get to start at the beginning of the school year, much less the beginning of the week. He had to be the new transfer student that joined the school on a random Wednesday in March. It was terrible and made a person realize how alone you could be.

Dan had carefully walked through the playground. He didn't really want to go down a slide - he was nine now and much too old for slides, at least that's what his brother said. He saw the start of woods at the edge of the playground. Dan tentatively walked towards one of them, sitting down on the ground. He was out of the way, no one had to talk to him, and he could be alone. It was perfect. Until a boy with ginger hair had come along.

"Hi!" The boy had said, standing in front of Dan and blocking the very little sun. It had been an rather gloomy day, something Dan appreciated. It matched his mood perfectly. "I'm Phil! You're the new kid, right?"

"No," Dan had said, sneering at the boy. "I'm the wildly popular kid, obviously." The boy, Phil, had just laughed before he sat down next to him. How could he! Dan had wanted to be alone and he had thought he made that quite clear. What other type of person sits against a tree away from everyone else?

"You're funny," Phil said. "Do you want to see my Pokemon cards? I just got some new ones yesterday! And a binder to hold them in!" Dan didn't want to admit it but he was rather curious to see his collection. He didn't have loads himself but he enjoyed trading.

"Okay," He said, standing up after Phil and following him to a picnic table. Other kids were surrounding it and Dan tried to remain calm about it.

"You'll get to meet some of my friends too, they're all very nice, I'm sure you like them," Phil assured, sitting down at one edge of the table and grabbing a navy blue binder. "The girl with the long brown hair is Louise and the girl with the short brown hair is Dodie. They're probably my best friends. And then Connor and Troye are over by that tree." He waved to the two boys that were playing ball.

"Why do you have girl best friends?" Dan asked, trying to figure out why Phil didn't say Troye and Connor were his best friends instead.

Phil just shrugged. "Why shouldn't I? They're nice and they aren't rough like some boys. Well, Connor and Troye aren't rough and noisy either. That's why I like them so much." Dan figured that this reasoning was good enough. It actually sounded pleasant to him. He hated when boys were rowdy and destroyed things. It was always better when you could just talk. Dan decided right then and there that he would give Phil and his friends a chance. Phil seemed kind enough.

Ever since that day they had all been friends. However, one thing changed. Dan was now definitely Phil's best friend and it been that way for a long while. Dan would never tell Phil this, but he was so glad that he talked to him on that day. He couldn't imagine where he would be if he didn't have Phil, and he was sure that Phil felt the same way. Dan looked at his best friend, listening to him speak about the latest video game update he had installed. Dan took in the way he kept his gaze on the pavement most of the time but occasionally flickered up to meet his, noticed how he always gave Dan a small smile. He was so lucky to have Phil in his life.

Dan could only hope that never changed.

*

"Ugh," Phil moaned from Dan's bed. "Can we please order pizza now? I am so done with this project."

"We're almost done. If we order pizza now we'll be nearly finished by the time it gets here. We could finish it and proofread after we eat. Sound good?" Dan proposed. Phil nodded glumly from his bed, an arm flung over his eyes. "Are you tired?"

Phil let out a grunt of confirmation. Dan wished he could go lie down on his bed next to Phil but figured that would be very weird and he didn't want Phil to think that Dan was acting weirdly. He couldn't notice any changes in Dan.

"Are you going to church on Wednesday? My brother is going to be leading the youth group." Dan questioned, going onto their favorite pizza website and starting to place their order. They had studied together so many times Dan knew what Phil always wanted and vice versa. It made Dan happy to know the little things about Phil, more than it did with his other friends. In fact, when it came to Phil, so many things were different about him. Dan automatically cared more about Phil when it came to anything, as terrible as that sounded. It's not that he didn't care about his other friends, it's just that he really cared about Phil. It's not like this was a bad thing, it just meant that they are close. But Dan was starting to wonder. Why hadn't he ever felt this way for anyone else before? Did that mean anything? Dan was shaken out of his thoughts by Phil responding.

"Yeah, we are. Mum doesn't want to miss your brother's first sermon. It's apparently a big deal." Phil spoke up. "I mean what is he even going to talk to us about? It's not like he knows way more than we do, he's only a few years older. Just because he's graduated with a degree from some fancy private school doesn't mean he can magically make a bunch of teenagers listen to him, no matter what they taught him."

Dan laughed, agreeing with Phil's statement. And half an hour later when the doorbell rang and Phil got up and stretched, Dan tried not to follow his shirt as it rose on his stomach. He didn't want to think about what this meant. He really, really didn't.

*

"Daniel! Time to leave!" His mother yelled up the stairs. Dan quickly slipped his shoes on and ran the stairs. He had known that if he was late his mother would get mad at him. If there was one thing that his family took seriously it was religion. Dan had been baptized when he was seven. His views on Christianity had changed as he grew older but he knew he believed in a God. It just made sense to him.

He knew Phil was kind of similar to him. He had also been raised in the religion, his parents a similar level of conservative to Dan's, which was pretty conservative. Phil had expressed his dislike of the beliefs that most of the church shared. The fact that the girls had to go through a ceremony where they received a flower, symbolizing their virginity and how it shouldn't go to anyone until marriage. The guys had no lesson on this. It was sexist and hetero-normative, something both of them despised.

Both Dan and Phil considered themselves open-minded, especially in comparison to the members of their church. Dan didn't know all of Phil opinions, but he knew they were more liberal than some of the youth group. Troye and Connor, mutual friends of theirs, had come out a year or so ago and Dan knew that Phil was nothing but supportive. Dan didn't know how Phil would react to a guy having a crush on him. Especially if that guy was his best friend. Dan wasn't sure if he had a crush on him, but it would certainly explain a lot. He never liked a girl before but he had just thought that was because he was being a good Christian. His mom had said that some guys don't really like girls until their later teens, but Dan still didn't like a girl, even though he was seventeen. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He could remember really liking one guy and wanting to be friends with him, or the one time where he got really jealous when a girl started talking to his old best friend before he moved.

Dan sighed, relaxing against the seat in the car, gazing out the window. He wished his head would just shut up or figure out what he was feeling. He was already looking forward to seeing Phil at church, even though they had walked home together only hours ago. He couldn't talk to him about what was going on in his head but he could figure out his views and opinions. First, he had to listen to his brother's sermon. Maybe he could ask his brother. He couldn't be too obvious about it though, his brother was basically a pastor now.

They arrived at the church, Dan quickly spotting Phil and making his way towards him. Dan had to be there early because of his brother, Phil just came early because Dan would be there early. It made Dan feel warm on the inside.

"Hi!" Phil said, scooting over on the pew so that Dan could sit. They were in the Sanctuary, the room where the services where held on Sunday mornings and the adult service on Wednesday. Dan and Phil would be in the youth room tonight.  Dan always liked being in the Sanctuary when no one else was in it. He always felt closer to God. It felt holier without more people in it. Dan sat next to Phil, their shoulders touching. He leaned into him, resting his head on his shoulder. He liked that he could do this, he knew that Phil didn't like most people touching him. He had three exceptions; Dan, his mom, and Sarah Michelle Gellar. Dan was honored to be included in the same group as Sarah Michelle Gellar, who was basically all Phil would ever want in a woman.

"You okay?" Phil asked, probably noticing how much quieter Dan was than usual.

"Yeah," Dan sighed. "I'm just thinking. A lot. And it's annoying."

"Well, what are you thinking about?" Dan sighed again.

"Do think God loves me, no matter what?"

"Considering the fact that the bible says that God has created each and every one of us in His image, loving us unconditionally, would support that claim." Phil said, confident in his answer.

"But do you think that goes for gay people too?" Dan questioned, figuring that he might as well figure out what Phil thought.

"I would think so. If the bible says we are created in His image, why wouldn't that be included?" Phil debated. "If we go by that, God could be anyone. He could be a black trans woman. God is everyone and everything, He is everywhere. I know more and more people are using they/them pronouns for God. I think it makes sense."

"But what about all the people that say gay people go to Hell?" Dan was trying to figure out everything. Phil seemed to have answers to everything he asked so far.

"Well, there are contradicting verses. The bible says that anyone who accepts him goes to Heaven. Why wouldn't that include religious gay people? People in Christianity tend take the two verses in the bible talking about homosexuality to judge an entire group of people. One of those verses weren't even for us, it was for the people of the Old Testament. We don't have to wear one piece of fabric anymore, we get piercings, it's considered okay. We don't follow any of the other rules." Phil sighed, thinking some more. "I think the reason some gay people reject religion is because they've been rejected. Religion is so hurtful to so many people. I know God isn't happy with it. Why would He be? He is love, and that's all He wants for us. The fact that people use the bible, which He influenced, to hate must be hurtful."

Dan let himself relax into Phil more as he rambled on, already feeling better. His eyes caught onto the cross that rested against the wall at the front of the church. He felt at peace in the church for the first time. He let the feeling wash over him, making him feel rested.

"Why are you worrying anyways?" Phil asked, noticing that Dan had closed his eyes.

"Can you promise not to tell anyone? Please?" Dan asked, already worrying like crazy at Phil could say.

"I promise I won't." Phil promised, locking eyes with him when Dan opened his eyes.

"I think I might be gay." He whispered, feeling like there was a lump in his throat. His vision got blurry and he willed himself not to cry. He broke his gaze with Phil, eyes resting on the cross.

"Hey, it's okay," Phil said softly. He moved to hug Dan, their chins resting on each other's shoulders. "I still love you, you're still my best friend. Don't think you're getting out of being stuck with me so easy." Dan let out a watery laugh, closing his eyes and letting himself be held.

"Thanks," Dan said, pulling back.

"What made you start questioning your sexuality? Is it a boy?" Phil asked. He got excited, acting as if he had been struck by lighting. "This is why we never talked about girls! You didn't want to! Now we can talk about crushes!" His voice kept getting louder and louder, Dan getting more and more worried that someone would overhear, like his mom or brother.

"Shh, keep your voice down! We're in church," Dan laughed, Phil apologizing. "But yes, it is because of a boy." Phil got a glint in his eyes, the one Dan knew well. It was the look where Phil was trying to figure something else and he was determined to get it right.

"Who is it?" He asked, clearly curious.

"I'm not telling," Dan said, blushing.

"You have to! I've always told you about the girls I like." Phil turned so that he could pull his feet up onto the pew. If either of their mothers saw him, he would be in trouble. Dan mirrored his movements.

"Ugh, fine," Dan said. "It's, uh . . . it's Troye."

"Oh," Phil said, dejected. Was it just Dan's wishful imagination or did Phil actually look upset? He started to brighten up. "Am I allowed to tease you around him?"

"No!" Dan laughed, already dreading the lie. Phil gave him a smile, Dan smiling back. His mother came to warn them that they had five minutes to get upstairs into the youth room before the adults started pouring into the Sanctuary. They scrambled out of the pew, racing to see who could get up the stairs fastest. Dan ended up winning, but just by a few seconds. They took their seats on the only couch. The youth room had a pool table, table tennis, and a hockey table, but those were all in the back of the room. The front of the room was filled with bean bag chairs and old chairs that they had thrifted over the years. The only couch was basically Dan and Phil's, everyone knew that they sat there every Sunday and Wednesday. It was a low flowery couch with mismatched throws pillows. Dan loved it.

Dan settled close to Phil, looking up at his brother, standing on the platform at the front of the room. Dan could tell that his brother was nervous, it was obvious. His brother was wringing his hands and stuttering every now and then. Dan almost felt bad for him, but it was hilarious. His brother was rarely nervous. Dan was going to enjoy this.

"So, kids, well you're not really kids, so teens, today we're going to talk about something that a lot of guys have probably dealt with, whether it's your friends or social media," His brother started. Dan was wondering what it was, sex, fame? "That something is homosexuality, something that is threatening the youth of our nation."

Dan's face went pale, his limbs stiff. He could feel Phil stiffen next to him. He was not going to enjoy this one bit.

*

"How was Aaron's service, Dan?" His mother asked as they drove home. His dad was staying later to help take down some decorations with Phil's dad. They were going to ride home later, that way the rest of their families could leave at the normal time.

"It was good, yeah," Dan said, staring out the window, trying to process his thoughts. His brother had said all the things that any other preacher had said before. It still hurt though. Phil had grabbed his hand halfway through the service, the action concealed by a throw pillow. "Very informative."

"Aw, that's good! I'm so proud of you, Aaron. What did you talk about? I bet it was good." His mother said, turning into the McDonald's drive thru.

"He talked about how all gay people are going to hell." Dan bitterly said, not being able to hold back his bitter tone.

"Dan! Tone, please," His mom said, pausing to order. "I'm sure that your brother meant well, I'm sure that he didn't say anything incorrect."

"The bible can be interrupted in many different ways! Gay people can be religious, and he could've hurt someone! What if there was a kid there who had just realized he or she was gay? How do you think they dealt with being told that they are going to hell, even though they believe in God? It could be damaging." Dan argued, trying to get his mom to understand his view.

"Dan, please, people chose to be gay," His brother said.

"No, they don't! Ask literally any gay person, they don't chose to be gay. When did you chose to be to straight?" Dan was hoping that his brother would realize his wrongs, or his mom would at least come to his side.

"Why do even care?" His brother shot back. "You're straight." Dan could not come out, he just realized, he could not do that.

"I have gay friends! I know they didn't chose to be gay." Dan said, he wasn't lying, he just wasn't telling the whole truth.

"Dan, just accept that you don't agree with each other," His mother butted in. "I'm sure that your brother didn't mean to hurt anyone and it was a lovely lesson." She handed Dan his bag of food, ending the discussion.

*

"Dan! Why aren't you ready for school?" His mother asked, opening his door. Dan startled awake, sitting up in his bed. He must've fallen asleep after his alarm went off. He stayed up most of the night online trying to figure out what to do about being gay. He needed to get comfortable with his sexuality more and then start to slowly come out when he felt ready, at least that's what most people on the internet said. He looked at his mom in that moment, trying to figure out what she would say about him being gay. Would she kick him out? Would she hate him and disown him? Out of his mom and his dad, his mom was definitely the kinder and more compassionate one. If he wasn't accepted by her he'd be screwed.

"I must've fallen asleep again, sorry. I couldn't sleep well last night," Dan sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

"Well, you missed the bus and I have to get to work. You're going to be late either way, do you want to just stay home? Do you have any tests or anything today?"

"No, I don't," Dan said, checking the time, it was 7:20 a.m. His bus came at 7:15 and his school at started 7:40.

"Alright, just stay home today. Your brother will be home today as well, try not to fight. I know how you two get."

"Okay, mom, love you," Dan said, starting to get out of bed.

"I love you, too," She replied, closing the door behind.

*

"You're a traitor!" Phil shouted the moment he entered Dan's house.

Dan laughed. "What makes you say that?"

"You left me! We had a heart-to-heart yesterday and you didn't even have the nerve to show up to school today!" Phil laughed, taking his backpack off and letting it rest against the wall by the door. "I thought we had something special here."

"I'm sorry," Dan said, laughing at Phil. "I slept in on accident. Mom decided to let me stay home."

"Well, it was still rude," Phil said quieter. "I brought you the homework so you don't get behind."

"Aw, thank you," Dan said, accepting the folder Phil gave to him. "You're like my prince."

"Here to save you from the scary dragon of behind work." Phil giggled, going along.

"My hero," Dan placed a hand over his heart, laughing quietly with Phil. "My brother's home by the way. I don't know where though, just warning you."

"I can't swear, gosh darn it!" Phil joked.

Dan snorted. "I have never heard you swear. Ever."

"Because somebody's always been around!" Phil rebutted. Dan rolled his eyes, walking into the kitchen, Phil trailing behind him. He got out the ice cream and ice cream cones, Phil's favorite snack besides popcorn.

"So, you know how you told me who you like yesterday," Phil started.

"Yes?" Dan raised his eyebrow, scooping out ice cream for both him and Phil.

"Are you planning on telling that person?" Phil asked, voice hesitant. Dan sighed, knowing that he had to come clean.

"I lied to you, I don't have a crush on Troye," Dan made sure to keep his voice down seeing as they were in the kitchen and he didn't know if his brother could hear or not. "I have a crush on another guy."

Phil perked. "Do I know him?"

Dan bit his lip, glancing at Phil from under his lashes. "Um, you do. Really well. He's kind of my best friend."

"Oh," Was Phil's response. Dan couldn't look at him. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, you know my crush as well."

Phil had a crush on somebody? And he didn't mention it until now? Dan felt a little bit betrayed. "Yeah? Who is it?" Dan asked, his voice quiet.

"My best friend."

Dan looked up at him, just now realizing that the ice cream was dripping, and took in Phil's expression. His cheeks were a light pink, his eyes downcast and staring at the floor.

"Really?" Dan asked, trying to not let the hopefulness seep into his tone. It felt like at any moment Phil would jump up and tell him it was a joke, laugh at him, and leave.

"Yeah," Phil looked up, his eyes connecting with Dan's.

"Oh," Dan said, repeating what Phil had said only a bit before. "Well, I'm sure he likes you back."

"Is that so?" Phil said, gaining some of his usual confidence back and cocking an eyebrow. "Would you care to confirm that?"

"I'm sure I could think of some way to," Dan said, leaning over the counter, completely forgetting about the ice cream.

"Yeah, I have a few ideas too," Phil leaned over too, their noses touching.

"Yeah," Dan breathed. He moved his head closer, finally making his and Phil's lips touch. It was unlike Dan had anything had ever felt before. Too soon, Dan was unlocking their lips and looking at Phil. His eyes darted down to his lips, then his cheeks, and back to his eyes. Phil's cheeks were flushed with pink. Dan very quickly decided that he want to do that again. Dan grabbed Phil's hand and dragged him upstairs to his room. They had at least another hour or two until his mom got home, they could kiss quite a bit.

"Are we not talking about this?" Phil asked, following him up the stairs.

"What is there to talk about? I like you, you like me, let's kiss," Dan said, closing the door and shoving Phil against it. He had only made out with one person in his life and he fully intended to have made out with two by the end of the day. Phil shrugged and let Dan kiss him senseless.

*

They had eventually moved to the bed, taking breaks between kissing and talking about whatever random thing they wanted to talk about. They were cuddling and Dan was loving it. Dan was facing Phil and vice versa, Dan's arms wrapped around Phil's waist. Their legs were wrapped together. Dan felt like he was going to burst into giggles at any moment, which he had been doing for the past half hour.  Phil would just laugh with him and pull him closer.

It was one of those moments. Dan had burst into giggles once again when he had realized that Phil liked him back. They had kissed, they were cuddling. It was all hitting him and he couldn't help but giggle over and over. This time Phil had pulled him closer and put a finger under his jaw, guiding Dan's face to his. Their lips met and Dan happily sighed into the kiss, closing his eyes and basking in the feeling of Phil's lips on his.

All of a sudden, his door was being opened, his mother in the doorway, clearly angry. "Daniel Howell! Why is there melted ice cream downstairs on the counter? I know it wasn't your brother, he's lactose intolerant for heaven's sake-" She abruptly stopped when she took in Dan and Phil on the bed. "What are you doing?" Her voice had gone cold, her expression a guarded type of anger.

Dan sat up, knocking Phil's arms off of him. Their legs continued to be tangled together and Dan wanted to untangle them but knew that it would draw more attention. He could tell he was on the verge of crying. He knew his parents' views. "It's not what it looks like!" Phil had sat up as well and Dan could tell that he was scared. Dan's mom was probably going to tell Phil's. Phil had told Dan that his parents didn't care about other people being gay but they didn't want him to be gay. If word got back to them things could go from bad to worse.

"And what does it look like?" His mother asked, stepping into the room. Dan needed to think of a convincing argument.

"We were just tired! Phil came over after school and we were talking and then we laid down! That's all that happened." Dan tried to assure her, convince her that nothing was going on.

"I don't believe you," His mom said. "Phil, I think you should go home. Dan and I need to have a talk." Dan felt like crying as he watched Phil solemnly nod and get out of the bed, walking past his mom and then down the stairs.  Dan looked at the bed, refusing to look at his mom.

Dan heard his mother walking closer to the bed and then felt her sit. "Why did you do this?" She asked, her voice fake sympathetic. Dan shrugged, not wanting to tell her about how Phil made his insides squirm more with every passing day. "Are you gay?" He did not want to answer that question, possibly ever, so he just shrugged again.

"I don't think you need to be seeing Phil anymore," His mom decided after more silence from him. "He's clearly influencing you in a negative way. I don't like it."

His mom got up and left the room, leaving Dan to wonder about how his life had changed so dramatically in less than twelve hours.

*

"What did she say? Why didn't she call my parents? I wouldn't have come out to my parents last night if I had known she wasn't going to call," Phil asked at school the next day.

"She said that we need to stop hanging out and that we shouldn't speak at school but I'm obviously not going to listen to her," Dan replied, leaning into Phil's side. They were sitting on a bench outside of their school while waiting for the first period bell to ring. They had about ten minutes. "I don't know why she didn't call your parents, I was certain that she would have called them. What did they say?"

"I thought they would have cared more but they were completely chill with it. Well, not completely but they weren't mad or anything. I was afraid that they were going to kick me out."

"Well I guess that's good." Dan said, considering what to do about his mom and dad's decision. "I still want to see you. I say that we still hang out but 'forget' to mention it to my family."

"Sounds good," Phil said, snuggling into Dan and hiding his face in Dan's neck. Dan smiled, clasping Phil's hand in his.

*

Three weeks had passed and Dan and Phil had still managed to hide it from Dan's family. Dan was happier than he had been in a while, despite his family's views. He had Phil though, and his supportive friends, it was all fine.

Dan had come to the conclusion that God didn't hate him or Phil. Why would He? Him and Phil had so many discussions about it. Of course they still believed in Him, they still wanted to go to church. Why would their sexuality change that?

"My parents are considering sending me to a camp this summer," Dan mentioned.

"What?" Phil said, shocked.

"I know, I'm going to have to convince them not to send me. I'd be 18, though, they wouldn't be able to force me to."

"Well, you're always welcome at my house, you know that," Phil reminded him. Dan nodded.

"I know," He said, giving him a smile.

"Good," Phil said, smiling back.

*

"Hey, I have a great idea," Phil said at lunch, sitting across from Dan. He raised an eyebrow at Phil.

"And that would be?"

"Skip fifth period and make out under the bleachers," Phil suggested.

"And they say romance is dead," Dan said dryly. Phil laughed and Dan cracked a smile. "But yeah, let's do that."

*

"No, I can't be gay. They don't want me to be gay," he cried, trying to hide his face. Dan didn't want anyone to notice he was crying, even though someone was bound to. He was sat in the principal's office, his English teacher, principal, best friend and maybe boyfriend Phil, and the guidance counselor crowded around him. Dan wished they would give him some space.

Him and Phil had gotten caught kissing underneath the bleachers by the English teacher during 5th period, which why they were in the office. They normally would have called their parents but considering the fact that both of their parents were extreme Christians it was decided against. The principal had then called the guidance counselor up to come and speak to them. "My parents are gonna kill me. Please don't tell them, please."

Dan tried to hide another sob, shuddering in the chair. He could feel everyone's gaze on him. It was nerve-wracking. Phil hesitantly placed his hand on Dan's back, rubbing it up and down, clearly trying to be soothing. When his parents heard he was going to be kicked out, he was sure of it.

Phil took a seat in the seat next to him. He reached his arm over the armrest, it wrapped around Dan's shoulder and pulled him as close as they could be with two armrests between them.

"We have to alert your parents, I'm sorry. You were skipping class and breaking school code, we legally have to inform them," The principal said from his desk. Dan wiped his arms once more, wiping the tears off of his cheeks that were still there. He really wished he hadn't started crying, it was embarrassing, to say the least. Phil had seen him crying but only once, and that was when he broke his arm when he was ten.

Dan closed his eyes, letting his head drop against Phil's shoulder. He wished he had never been stupid enough to skip class to kiss Phil under the bleachers.

*

"I want you out of this house. If you are old enough to be a homosexual, you are old enough to find a place to live," His dad said, opening the door to the house.  "You have an hour to pack."

Dan darted up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door and pulling his suitcase out of the closet and stuffing all the clothes he could into it. Then he grabbed his backpack and packed away his chargers and some more clothes. He quickly texted Phil, telling him he was about to walk over to his house with his stuff. Grabbing his favorite pillow and a toothbrush, he trampled down the stairs. Once outside of the door, he started the walk to Phil's house. He never looked back.

*

Years had passed, Dan and Phil were still dating and still in love.

After they graduated they went to the same college, even sharing a dorm together. It made them closer and they felt more in love than ever before.

Both of them felt at home in their new church, a place that was accepting to all people, no matter what. They loved it.

Dan was a teacher, something he had always wanted to do. He loves his job, the kids, and his coworkers. He was happy and content and loved going into work everyday.

His parents hadn't talked to him since he was 17 on the day that they kicked him out. He was devastated for months after but eventually became happier than ever before, thanks to Phil and his family.

Phil was a video editor. He worked from home, which is very important considering they had just adopted a three year old from China. She was the light of their world and they couldn't wait for her to grow up with them.

They would be better parents than Dan's had been. He was sure of it. And that's what was important.

[yesilian]

The long read: That One Where I Moved To England

This is going to be long, so let's start with some background.

England has always held a fascination for me, something I know loads of people can sympathise with. An old school mate of mine went to London a few years ago and whenever we talked she told me to come, too. And I wavered, wanting to go on the one hand, wanting that big adventure, but on the other hand, I was afraid. Of course I was. Being all alone in a foreign country, on my own, with no help to get easily. But the dream was alive. Oh, I liked dreaming about it. I imagined the greatest of times, me in England. Old castles and country cottages and people speaking English. What fun I would have.

And then came the day my boss told me that the company would have to be sold soonish and he couldn't promise me that the new owners would keep me. So I quit and I started thinking. England was one option, but the most amazing thing happened: I didn't want to go.

With so much clarity, I knew, now was not the right time for me. I was 27 then, just off from my first real job, so much confidence that I was great at what I was doing, and the world was open to me. England was a dream, but not one I wanted to pursue then. And that made me so happy. Because, up until then, I had always played with that thought of moving there, but always too afraid, too hesitant. In that moment, when I knew that yes, I could now, in fact, the timing could hardly be better, but I didn’t want to, I also knew that, maybe, someday the opposite would be true. That someday I would know that now was the right moment, just as surely as I knew then that that wasn't it.

So I left Hamburg after three and a half rather happy years, illnesses and personal set-backs notwithstanding, and moved back home. I started a job in Berlin, didn't find a flat there and had to move into my father's guest room, where I was to make myself at home but not to change anything. That chapter is a whole different story and I'll tell it another time, but what we have to take from here is that after two months, that Moment, capital M, was there. I knew it was time now.

And so I started preparing. At first people didn't believe me. Well, they're wont to do that. But obviously I was serious. I started thinking about where I wanted to live. Brighton, that was my favourite. Never been there, but why not, eh? I looked at the job sites and there were some offers for people with just my skillset. It looked good. It looked feasible. Up until October I told people that was where I was headed eventually. Because even so, I knew I would have to start out in London. It was just easier. Set up base in London and then find a job in Brighton. Well, spoiler alert, I never made it to Brighton. When the job offer came, my heart bled and I declined. I couldn't face leaving London.

Finding a place to live was daunting from abroad. I couldn't just fly over and look at places. Well, technically I could, but I didn't want to. Too much stress. I found this website that was renting out rooms, for just a smallish fee of 100 pounds in advance, as deposit and security. That sounded reasonable. My room was to cost 125 pounds a week, which sounded high, but as I soon found out was also quite reasonable for London. So I booked it, starting from the first week of January.

I felt a bit queasy about that, but I've only paid £100 in advance, so I thought if worse came to worst, I'd lose 100 quid and would have to stay in a youth hostel. That was my plan B. God, did people laugh at me. But I was confident everything would go all right.

So I had a place to live, but still no job. And here comes my real secret to success, to sit down and listen carefully: I had money. There. I had a job in Germany that was paying all right, and I lived at home where my father refused to take rent. I saved up, I think, around 8,000 Euros, and went abroad with that in my pocket. That was a lot of reassurance right there.

So I wasn't worried about a job. Here’s my second secret to success: Study for a job that is needed everywhere and is not reliant on a certain language. In my case, that's being a programmer, and the only language anyone was ever concerned I "spoke" was Java. Problem solved.

With enough money in my pocket to survive the first five or six months and a sought-after occupation on my resume, I packed my bags.

That's another fun story. I'm a bit cheap, I have to admit. So I only booked one piece of luggage for that first flight. Everything I wanted to take with me had to fit in one medium-sized suitcase and weigh less than 23kg. That was a bit of a challenge.

In the end I took mostly clothes, and winter clothes to boot, it being January and all. I've rolled the pieces so tightly in order to fit as much as humanly possible into that suitcase. My laptop, phone and kindle where in my carry-on luggage, and I wore my boots and heavy winter coat. And that was all.

I'm always laughing about it. I left my whole life behind with just a suitcase full of clothes and a laptop. That was all. I've seen so many people arrive in this country, and they always bring so much luggage. When I compare that to the stuff I brought, I can't help but think that something is wrong with me. There were people on the airport with more suitcases going on a winter holiday than I had when I planned to move my life abroad.

Nobody, I believe, took my seriously. How could they? Everything I did seemed so spontaneous. I had no real place to live, no job, no belongings. How long did they think I would make it, seriously? I think they all thought it was a lark, they must have. It's kind of a joke, if you think about it.

I took a very early flight that 3rd January 2014, and because it was a connecting flight, I've only made it to Heathrow by lunch time, by which time I was knackered already. It was warmish that day, but foggy, and I was in my big winter coat and already sweating. First order of business was I needed money for my room. I had paid the deposit online, but when I was to pick up the key for the flat, I was to pay for the first two weeks in cash. Plus, I needed an Oyster card and possibly something to eat later on, so money was the first thing I did on the airport.

My heart just about stopped when I typed in the amount I needed at the cash machine and, without a message, no money came out. I wanted £500 pounds, but nothing happened. I feared that it would take the money from my account without giving me a single quid and already saw my savings melting away. £500, gone like that.

I tried another machine and another card with a smaller amount, and that, at last, spit out some money. I've tried the other card for the rest, and that, too, worked. I still had an uneasy feeling about the first machine. I wasn't sure if I had just depleted my savings or not. Thankfully, that had not been the case. The reason is that these machines don't give you more than £300 at a time, but I didn’t know that back then, and because there was no error message, I had no way of knowing.

With a big wad of cash in my pocket, the British having a dislike for any note that is bigger than £20, I went to get an Oyster card, the pay-as-you-go transportation ticket in London, and promptly lost that. I've put £50 on it, and it was gone after a minute. I was about to cry. I frantically searched all my pockets, my backpack, my suitcase for wherever I might have put it, but it was gone. Well, not all pockets, not the back pocket of my jeans, because I've never ever ever had put anything in there, so there was no need to search that, right? Until, of course, I did, and of course it was there that I had put the Oyster card. I've no idea why. I still don't use that pocket, ever.

Knackered, with the thought of having lost £500 to a faulty cash machine, and after just having spent more than 20 minutes looking for an Oyster card that was never lost, I jumped into the tube and put my ear plugs in. Time to forget everything.

I had a goodish idea about how to get to the place where I was supposed to pick up the key for my room, but once outside of Walthamstow Central, I realised I was lost. And it had started hailing, because, why not. I tried to make my phone connect to the network and find my way on Google maps, but even that took ages. But then, I finally made it to the office where I was supposed to sign my first English contract. How exciting.

Except, no, of course not. The good news is, it actually was not an internet scam and they were expecting me. I sat in a little room that was more storage area than office, crammed in between boxes and suitcases, and put my name on a one-page contract. Then they wished me good luck and locked the door after me.

It was still hailing while I waited for the bus to take me to my new place, but alas, I was stupid and waited on the wrong side of the road. It would take me weeks to completely get that out of my system. Once on the right side and then on the right bus, it dropped me off a few hundred metres from my new home. The street looked nice enough. A row of terraced houses, a view that you can see everywhere around London and in fact the UK. It's as anonymous as it is benign. I walked down the road, counting the house numbers, and there, almost at the end, it finally was: 30, Balmoral Road. A blue door in a dirty, little shrubbery. I took a deep breath and entered through the unlocked door.

The hallway, the teeny tiny hallway, was half-filled with letters, what must have been years of undelivered letters. There were three doors leading off of it, and on one was a crude note saying EURooms, which was my letting "agency". Excitedly, I put the key in and was so surprised when it didn't work. I couldn't get the door to open. Minutes and minutes passed, but the door wouldn't budge until someone heard me indoors and let me in. That was a very common problem for all new-comers. No-one was able to open that door, because you had to do so many things at the same time, put the key in only to a certain amount, and then chant the magic words three times while turning on the spot counter clockwise. They forgot to tell me that at the agency.

The door opened to another teeny tiny hallway. Let's put that into perspective, my medium-sized suitcase didn't fit through it. Off that hallway was the kitchen, where the oven had never worked and the washing machine was constantly running. The kitchen led to the bathroom and to one of the bedrooms, then a staircase downstairs to the basement and the other bedrooms. Going downstairs, you passed a hole in the wall big enough for a grown man to climb through, that was never explained, or covered, or even bothered about. The bedrooms downstairs were a big double that was let to a couple, a box room just barely big enough to fit a single bed (the wardrobe was in the hallway), and then my room, which was the most spacious of them all. I had a single bed that fit in lengthwise, and quite some space for a desk and chair even, and of course a wardrobe. Everybody was so envious of that room. I was just in shock.

This place was run-down. I'm not very peculiar about those things and I knew that with a bit of cleaning and tender loving care, this could be liveable. But by then, I had been on my feet for 10 hours, I was wet and cold, and frankly exhausted, and all I could see was the narrowness of everything. It was dirty, there were holes in the wall, and you needed to take a day-course to be able to unlock the front door. I had never doubted any decision as much as the one to move to London right then.

I closed the door to my new and curious flatmates and sat down on the bed to have a little cry. I was overwhelmed.

But, life must go on, right? And I was hungry and disgusting. I hadn't brought food or even soap, figuring I'd buy that somewhere on my first day and use the space in my suitcase for a few more clothes. I ventured out of my room again and found a flatmate to ask where the nearest supermarket was. Helpfully, he directed me to the next Asda, which he confessed wasn't the closest supermarket, but I'd be stupid to go anywhere else, where I'd pay so much more. So, instead of going to the Tesco fucking 200m away, which he refused to tell me about, he directed me to a superstore almost 1 mile away on a rainy day because I'd be able to save some money. Boy, did I not care about that. I wanted soap and bread and water, and I was angry.

The superstore overwhelmed me even more. It was so big with so many choices none of which I knew. I was hungry, but how was I supposed to know which of the 40 choices of bread was good? What yogurt should I buy? What spread? I was tired and I stood in front of the shelves and tears sprang to my eyes because it was loud and I'm practically deaf in loud spaces and therefore, lost, and I didn't know what to buy. People were constantly shoving me around and I just wanted to know which of these cheeses to get. So I grabbed a packet of pasta, a random loaf of bread, a two litre bottle of water, soap, and ran for my life. I felt so stupid.

Back in the flat, I showered and felt so much better for that already. I've changed into fresh clothes and lay down on the bed. I didn't like the covers, which were made of very cheap polyester, but I put that on my mental list of things to buy. New bed sheets. Salt for my pasta. Shampoo. After some time, I felt restored enough to brave my flatmates, who were still so curious to get to know me.

The people were nice enough. Once I got to know them a bit better, I didn't hate them and they were a friendly group. We'd all go out from time to time and often had dinner together. There was one girl, part of the couple, who had lived in the flat for a year, the others were always coming and going. Some people stayed for a few weeks, some a few months. Myself, I actually stayed 8 months in that house.

Because here’s the thing: Yes, I was shocked at how small everything was that first day. It was, and it takes some getting used to. In Germany, everything is much more spacious and it's a definite downgrade. What they call a small double bedroom in England is a storage room in a German flat.

It was dirty and it was run-down, but I didn't spend all that much time in that flat. After a good night's sleep, I got up that first Saturday and ventured out. I explored Leyton and then Stratford, and I came to like it so very much. My first month in London, I was a tourist, just going from place to place and taking it all in. I started looking for a job in February, started interviewing in March and working in April. The weather got nicer and nicer and I watched the parks becoming green. I fell in love with Regent's Park. We got a new flatmate who made us go to the Leyton Technical, a lovely pub down the road, almost every night for 8 straight weeks. I made friends. I spent the best birthday I ever had in a café atop a hill in Stratford. When I had saved up a bit of money, I moved into a lovely flat in Haringey with an old friend. England, and London especially, is very different from everything I ever knew and it was a gigantic change and it was a challenge, and it's something everybody wanting to move here should be aware of. But what I'm trying to say is, my life changed so much in these past 3 and half years, and I couldn't be happier about it. Was it worth it giving everything up to come here? Apart from that very first day, I never stopped to even question it, to be honest. A big, resounding yes.

[berjhawn]

Twenty-Four - part 10 - They Say You Can’t Go Home

Warnings: arguments; awkwardness, confrontation, ETC 

Pairings: Chris Evans X Reader

Parts:

Prologue

Part 1 ~ 9 years later

Part 2 ~ Dinner and a Dress

Part 3 ~ Truths and Premiers

Part 4 ~ Chris

Part 5 ~ The Fear

Part 6 ~ The Harsh Truth

Part 7 ~ Pictures of You

Part 8 ~ A Moth to a Flame

Part 9 ~ The Calm Before The Storm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reader’s POV

The ride to the airport along with the flight to Tulsa was long and nerve wrecking. Karen worried about what would happen when I got there and I hated to fly. Well it’s not that I hate to fly, it’s just I hate the taking off and landing part. I walk out of the terminal and stop dead in my tracks when I see Ang standing next to Tommy at the gate. I furrow my brow in confusion for a moment as I walk over to them. “Hey guys, what’s goin on?” I ask as I near them.

“Nothing much, just waiting for the prettiest girl in the world.” Tommy says a smile filling his lips as he wraps his arms around me.

“Aww, you’re too sweet. A liar, but sweet.” I say making him chuckle. I pull away from him and looking up see that his once shaggy brown hair had been cut short but not too short. His emerald eyes still shone brightly when he smiled. One thing did change though, he was built like a brickhouse. Farming fit him. I look from him to my little sister to see her long raven hair was pulled back into tight ponytail and as her grey eyes met mine she says, “Tommy told me he was coming to get you, I kinda wanted to talk before we get home.”

“Okay, I guess we have an hour to talk then.” I say as Tommy takes my carryon from me and tosses it over his shoulder.

“Let’s get your bags before someone recognizes you.” Tommy says as he hands me his carhart jacket. “There are some ray bans in the pocket if you want them.”

“You got some cop sunglasses, don’t you? Are you going to arrest me officer?” I ask playfully as I slip them on my face and offer him a smile.

“Wouldn’t you like that.” He says as he holds his arm out for me to take a flirty smirk filling his lips.

“Geez you two,” Angie says a chuckle leaving her lips. “Some things never change.”

“Yeah, this big guy is still a softy.” I say as I lean into his arm.

“You’re the only one who thinks that.” He says and I smile.

“That’s cause we grew up together.”

“Yup, best eighteen years of my life.” He replies and I roll my eyes.

After we grab my bags we head out into the parking lot and load up into Tommy’s Chevy pickup. I claimed shotgun making my little sister sit in the back seat. This, of course, made Tommy laugh. After we leave the airport Tommy turns to me and says, “Hungry?”

“Yes, I need Whataburger. I will pay, just get me a burger.” I say making him chuckle.

“You hungry Ang?” He asks and she nods.

“Yes please.” She answers politely. “I can pay for my own though.”

“That’s alright, it’s my treat.” I reply.

“Are you sure?” She asks and I nod.

“Yeah, you guys spent your own money to get here to pick my ass up it’s the least I can do.”

“You coming home to take care of dad is enough.”

“Speaking of which, what did he say when you told him I was coming.” I ask as I turn to face her.

“Oh, you know, the usual. He yelled and hollered for a while.”

“Seems about right.” I say as I turn back to look out the window.

“(Name), I wanna apologize on Jack’s behalf; he shouldn’t have said the things he did.” Angie says her voice filled with apology.

“It’s okay Ang,”

“No it’s not,” She says and I can tell she’s getting upset. I turn and look at Tommy who meets my gaze and without saying anything I can tell he wants me to listen. “Jack was out of line talking about what happened in New York. Everyone back home knows it’s not your fault about what happened to Emily, and when he…” She pauses and I feel my heart clench at the memory. “When he said what he did about you almost dying, it broke my heart. Someone should have told you about Emily. You shouldn’t have had to bear that burden alone, and then Jack told me about you losing your baby and I lost it.” My eyes widen in shock as I turn around in my seat and I stare wide eyed at her.

“What did he say? Who else did he tell?” I ask as I stare at her in shock.

“Dad knows,” She says and my heart breaks. “Jack was drunk one night and Mom brought you up. She started talking about how they should ask you for money cause dad, Jack, and I couldn’t give her the life she thought she deserved. Jack got mad; and he told them everything about what happened when he went to New York to help you. Mom started using that against dad every time they’d fight. Soon she left and got a boyfriend that started giving her what she wanted. Money. Since then, Dad’s shut everyone out. He was always a grumpy old fart, but now he’s a grumpy asshole.”

“Why didn’t anyone say anything to me?” I ask as I look back and forth between them.

“You were living your life (Name).” Tommy says and I turn to stare at him with tears stinging my eyes. “We didn’t want to ruin the good things you have going in your life by dredging up the past. You don’t deserve that.”

“Does Jack know I’m coming home?” I ask and he nods.

“Jack wants to apologize, although I know nothing he says will ever make up for what he’s done. Especially how he made an ass out of himself in front of your friend.”

“Sebastian let everything he said go in one ear and out the other. Something I wish I could do too.”

“Jack’s been trying though, he got a job working for the city, and he’s been sober since the reunion.” Ang says and I smile softly.

“I’m glad he’s changing for you.” I say making her smile softly back at me.

“He kinda didn’t have a choice. I threatened him.”

“With?”

“Divorce, and a thorough beat down from yours truly.” Tommy says as he glances back at Angie in the rearview mirror. “You two are family, and I’ll be dammed if I’m gonna let anyone hurt you.”

“Aww, how sweet.” I say making him roll his eyes at me.

“Isn’t he though,” Ang says joining in on our fun. “He’s just so big and bad.”

“Alright you two need to stop fucking with me or no one gets food.”

“Yeah, well that’s only gonna hurt you in the long road Bubba.” I say and he narrows his eyes at the road.

“Don’t do that.” He replies making the two of us laugh.

“Any who, I’m sorry (Name).” Angie says and I let out a sigh.

“Dad was gonna find out sooner than later. Kinda wish he wouldn’t have; but what can you do. I don’t blame you, or Jack even, for what happened. I do blame Martha. No offense but I’ve always hated that woman.”

“None taken, it surprises the hell outta me that I come from her. I mean we’re so completely different.”

“That ain’t no lie,” Tommy adds making me chuckle.

“I guess I must have taken after dad.” She says and I smile. Even though my dad wasn’t her real dad he loved her like she was his own. always giving her what she needed and helping her like a real parent should. Even if in the process, he neglected me. I didn’t blame her for that, in reality I kinda blamed myself. I was just like my mother, an artist at heart. I loved music and before all the shit went down in my past I always sang or played the piano just like my mother. It wasn’t our fault I wanted to be like her and leave Oklahoma and he knew that. Angie just gave him what he really needed, someone like him.

“At least one of us did.” I say making her smile. Turning my attention to the window I look out it to see the fresh snow covering the ground. visions of when I used to play in the snow with Emily fill my mind making my heart clench. Taking a deep breath, I pull my cell phone out to text Karen and let her know I made it okay. Turning Airplane mode off my phone starts to light up with notifications. Groaning in annoyance I set it on the center council and wait for it to stop.

“Does it always do this?” Tommy asks and I shake my head.

“Not usually, but I guess this what I get for trying to take some time off to come home. It’ll shut up in a few.” I say as I run a hand through my hair.

“Karen told me that you’re seeing Chris again.” Tommy says and I grit my teeth. “Sure that’s a good idea?”

“No, not really.”

“Who’s Chris?” Angie asks from the backseat making me furrow my brows as I turn toward her.

“Didn’t Jack tell you?” I ask and she shakes her head.

“No… Should he have?” She asks the confusion filling her face. I turn back to Tommy to see my own expression mirrored on his face.

“You figure he would’ve told her.” Tommy says and I nod.

“Told me what?” She asks and I take a deep breath.

“Chris was the guy I was seeing after Jack and I broke up. The baby I lost, it was his.”

“Oh, my god! What did he say?”

“He doesn’t know.” I say making Tommy swerve to the side of the road as he slams on his brakes. “WHAT THE HELL TOMMY!” I yell out as I brace my hand against the dashboard to keep from hitting it.

“You’re dating him again but he has no idea what you went through, or what happened?” Tommy asks an angry look filling his face.

“He knows most of it, just not about the baby. How can I tell him that I’m responsible for his baby’s death?”

“You’re not responsible for its death (Name), you didn’t even know you were pregnant.”

“Still doesn’t make what I did any better Tommy,” I reply as I lean back into my seat and let out a sigh.

“But It’s not like you did it with the intention of killing your baby.” I hear my sister say from the back seat and I furrow my brow. “If you loved this guy, Chris, enough to not wanna hurt him; then I’m sure you shouldn’t blame yourself. It was an accident. You were distraught with emotions of thinking you were responsible for the death of your best friend so you took to a bottle. If he blames you for what happened he’s not the guy for you.”

“What she said,” Tommy says as he agrees with Angie.

“I know, really; I know it’s not my fault; but that’s never going to kill the feelings I have about it.”

“So, when are you gonna tell him? Now, three weeks from now, when you’re both on your deathbed, When? Cause it’s not fair to him, not to know why you stayed away.” Tommy preaches and I grit my teeth. I knew he was right but I just couldn’t hurt someone so nice. I couldn’t dredge that up. “Karen also told me about that Reporter that stalks you, what are you gonna do when he decides to tell the whole world about what happened; because you know he will if pissed off.”

“Tommy, I know all this. Do you think I don’t go throughout every day with the fear that he’s just gonna post everything online and then the whole world will find out what I’ve been through? I live with that fear every day of my life. I will tell Chris someday, but for now I just wanna get home, take care of the old man, and think things over. Can I just do that, please?” I ask my eyes pleading with him.

“Sorry, I know you’re having a hard time. I don’t mean to make it worse, just frustrated that you keep doing this to yourself.”

“I know, this is why you’re our brother.” I say motioning back and forth between me and Angie.

“I swear you two are the hardest siblings to take care of.” He says making us chuckle.

“Yeah but that’s why you love us.” Angie says as she leans forward and wraps her arms around the back of his seat resting them on his shoulders making him chuckle. As he pulls back out onto the road I reach down and pulling my cell phone up go through all my messages. There were a few from Sebastian, a couple Chris, and one from Karen. Since Karen only sent one I decided to answer her first but right as I was in the middle of replying to her my phone rings with a familiar number and I narrow my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I answer it and say, “What do you want Zeke?”

“When did you start dating Evans?” He asks anger filling his voice.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business. Why?”

“Because there are pictures of the two off you all over the media.”

“So? That’s what happens when celebrities date Zeke.”

“I thought you were with that asshole who threatened me. That Sebastian guy.” Zeke growls and I roll my eyes.

“Sebastian is my best friend, seriously what does nobody get about that?”

“There’s no way you two are just friends. You’re probably sleeping with him behind Chris’s back like you did with me.”

“Oh wow, seriously, you wanna try that bullshit again? Unlike you, I never once cheated. I never have in my entire life nor will I ever. Now, for the last time I would appreciate it if you never called or tried to contact me again. Goodbye.” I say and angrily hit the end call button before letting out an angry growl.

“Why did you ever date him again?” Tommy asks making me shake my head.

“I have no fucking idea. I know one thing though, it was the worst mistake of my life. Fucker is almost as bad as that freaking Reporter.”

“Well you live and you learn.” Angie says and I nod a smirk filling my face.

“Ain’t that the truth.”

~~~~~~~

After dropping Angie off at her vet clinic, Tommy drives me to the hospital where I sit in the passenger seat and mentally prepare myself for what I was about to witness. “Can I just slit my throat now?” I ask fear filling my body.

“Come on now, he’s not that hard to get along with.” Tommy counters as he opens the driver’s side door.

“Oh yeah, that’s because he likes you!” I yell out before he closes his door and walks around to my side and opens my door for me.

“So?”

“So, you are the son he never had.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Tommy replies as he motions for me to get out of the truck. “Come on, he’s probably had lunch by now. We’ll run up see how he’s doing, then head out to the ranch to get you settled.”

“Thanks again Tommy, I really appreciate it.” I say as I climb out of the truck and pull his carhart tighter around my body.

“No problem Darlin,” He says as he pats my head making me narrow my eyes at him. He laughs a bright smile on his lips before he closes the passenger side door. “Come on,” He says as he takes my hand and pulls me down the sidewalk, through the front doors, to the elevator, then from the elevator to the hallway that lead to my father’s room. The only reason I knew that was because I could hear him yelling angrily at someone from down the hall. I knew that tone and it sent a shiver down my spine.

“Are you sure it’s not too late to turn back?” I ask as I stop in my tracks not wanting to deal with the powder keg of angry old man in the next room. Tommy rolls his eyes as he pulls the ray bans off my face and places them on the collar of his shirt.

“I’ll be with you’re the whole time. You got this.” He says and I nod. Taking a deep breath I walk into the room to see the familiar back of my ex and clear my throat making him turn around his chocolaty eyes meeting mine.

“(Name)…” He says and I offer him a polite nod before I turn my attention to the man lying in the bed his arms folded over his chest. He looked weaker than I remembered, his once vibrant chocolate hair now peppered with stands of silver. His dark blue eyes meet mine and he grumbles something under his breath.

“Hey Pop, I hear you had a little too much fun and pissed your heart off.” I say as I near him Tommy close behind me.

“You shouldn’t have come.” He replies as he quickly averts his eyes to look out the window.

“I know; but Ang said you needed help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Maybe not but it’s best you’re gonna get.” I reply a hint of anger in my voice making him cock an eyebrow in surprise but continue looking out the window.

“Ang said you were coming to help; sorry I can’t do it.” Jake says and I shake my head.

“You and Ang got a lot going on. I don’t mind coming back to take care of him.”

“What about your life in New York?” My Father asks his deep voice filling the small room.

“It can wait.” I reply as I fold my arms over my chest.

“I want a drink.” My father says and I hear Jake groan in annoyance.

“The Doc said you can’t drink anymore.” Jake replies as he runs a hand down his face in exasperation.

“I don’t care what that cook says, I want a drink!”

“NO.” I say firmly making his head finally snap toward me.

“No?” He asks his dark eyes filling with rage. “Who the hell do you think you are to tell me I can’t have a drink?”

“Someone who doesn’t want to lose her father just because he’s an alcoholic.”

“I am not an Alcoholic; I can stop anytime I want too. I just chose not to.”

“Right…” I reply narrowing my eyes at him.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says a new emotion filling his eyes.

“Why not?” I ask place my hands on my hips.

“You look like her when you do.” He replies his voice filled with melancholy. My face softens at the mention of my mother and I let out a sigh as I walk closer to him until I am standing inches from his bed.

“Dad, you gotta stop doing this to yourself.” I start but the look in his eyes causes my heart to clench.

“I’m tired, get out.” He replies as he reaches for the little handle that holds the nurse call button.

“Alright, I’ve gotta get the chores at the house done anyway.”

“I’ll set her up and show her what to do Gene.” Tommy says and my father nods.

“Fine, just get out.” He replies as he presses the button.

“Alright pops, if you need anything from the house-” He goes to ask and I narrow my eyes as I shut him down, “Other than booze old man, I’ll get it for you.”

“You’re no fun.” He replies as the nurse walks in behind us. She was a tiny little brunette with hazel eyes and for the life of me I couldn’t picture where I knew her from.

“Excuse me, are you alright Gene?” She asks as she pushes past us.

“I would be if these hooligans weren’t here.” He replies glaring at us.

“We get the message pops; I’ll be by later to check on you.”

“Don’t bother, why don’t you just go back to New York?”

“Because whether you care to admit it or not, you need me old man. So get used to seeing me around.” I reply before turning on my heel and walking back down the hall my anger trying to flare. It took me a few seconds to realize that Jake and Tommy where close behind me. I didn’t really notice until I was in the elevator.

“Sorry about that (Name),” I hear Jake say and I shake my head.

“He’s always been like that.” I reply running a hand through my hair.

“Not just that though, I also meant-”

“I know what you meant Jake. It’s okay. Ang already told me.” He nods and I suddenly feel exhausted. “I don’t mean to be a bitch but I am exhausted and I still need to get home and take care of the animals.”

“I was able to feed them this morning before I headed to work.” He replies and I nod.

“Thanks.” I say as the elevator doors open. We quickly walk out them and through the front doors back to Tommy’s truck. Standing in front of it I turn to Tommy and say, “Can we stop by the store real quick? I gotta get some things.”

“Sure, no problem.” He answers as he waves to Jake before heading to the drivers side door to start the truck.

“Listen (Name), I really didn’t mean to say those things before.”

“Jake I know, please stop apologizing.”

“I can’t. I fucked up and said something that was told to me in confidence just because I was provoked by Angie’s mom. I should’ve just ignored her.”

“When you find someone who can ignore that woman you let me know.” I say making him smile softly at me.

“I know asking to be friends is a lot, but I want to be at least civil; you know, for Angie.”

“Then civil it is.” I reply as I hold my hand out to him for him to shake. “Jake this is a new start. All the shit we’ve been through is ancient history. We’re family now. All I gotta say is you better take care of Ang, cause if not, I know some real amazing lawyers.”

“Duly noted.” He says a slight smirk filling his lips as he takes my hand and shakes it. “I won’t keep you any longer, my lunch breaks almost over.”

“You better get back then. See ya Jake.”

“See ya later (Name).” He says as he offers me gentle wave before he disappears down the sidewalk. Blowing out a deep breath I turn back to Tommy and climbing into the passenger seat say, “To Walmart my good sir.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” He says as he shifts the truck to reverse and pulling out heads to the store.

Will Continue in - Home is where the heart is

Tags: @marvel-fanfiction