#This is the first like 20 seconds of a thousand and one nights from twisted

[justarandomlambblog]

Little wip I have going, super rough rn. I have a week off of work coming up tho so hopefully I'll at least finish the rough draft jfjsjfjsj

Wish I was at home working on this instead of at work

[jen-with-a-pen]

Dancing in the Kitchen

summary: After the worst night imaginable, your best friend helps you when you need him most. What you don't realize is just how much you've always needed him. or: Tony Dumps you. Steve picks you up and puts you back together.

parings: protective!best friend!Steve Rogers x best friend!f!Reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: fluff, angst, self-doubt and insecurity, verbally abusive relationship elements, insults + language/name calling, reader cusses and so does Steve bc he can, no smut!, wearing Steve's clothes (very little to no description about reader's body so do with that what you will), intense feelings, confessions, crying, anxiety, best friends to lovers, intimate touch, VERY SLIGHT possessiveness, protectiveness, not Tony Stark friendly, cap quartet mention

a/n: these characters are out of college! It's set in their early-mid 20s following graduating and I thought it'd be a little more relatable (also since I'm not in college anymore I wanted this specific fic concept to be more relatable. self-indulgence and stuff). the cap quartet rent a house together. there might be more shenanigans in the future involving them. maybe. who knows? enjoy <3

If I've missed any tags, please let me know!

gif by @annislittleshopofhorrors | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Everything was cold. 

Everything was ruined.

Everything was a fucking nightmare.

Dark clouds shrouded the night sky, hiding helpful moonlight. Rain pelted at you from above, mixing with fresh tears, drenching you to the bone as cold water collected on your skin and soaked through your dress. Your hands morphed into balled fists at your sides as you shook with rage, heartbreak, and the innate need to punch something.

You couldn’t wrap your pounding head around the events of the night; everything blurred together after ten o’clock. It was like a cruel joke, one where you waited an eternity for the punchline, begging for it not to be real no matter how hard you screwed your eyes shut and prayed. 

You didn’t want to believe it, yet there you were.

It sure as hell wasn’t the first time you found yourself standing at the backdoor of Steve Roger’s house on the cusp of a breakdown– and a breakup– warring with your own body to simply knock on the fucking door. Hell, Steve was already expecting you. He knew something was wrong the second you called; there wasn’t a warning text, just you, asking in a choked-up whisper if he was home. His response spilled out in a rushed ‘yes’ before you could explain further. A ‘no questions asked’ request, something not uncommon in your friendship. Steve, since day one, was one of your main sources of comfort within a thousand mile radius. 

Now, he was your only source of comfort within a thousand mile radius. 

Remnants of the phone call from Tony only minutes earlier echoed in your eardrums like a bad case of tinnitus. Annoying, repetitive. His hoarse, drunken slurry of vicious words clawed at the inside of your skull. Another fight. Another screaming match. Another forgotten birthday– this time, it included meeting your family. You’d planned it for months prior, making sure Tony knew not to forget it.

Your insides were twisting in knots as you waited at the restaurant awkwardly with your parents, brother, and an empty seat next to you. After an hour, eight failed calls and fifteen texts later, Tony finally picked up. Delight revived the few butterflies left in your stomach, only to be crushed, turning them into weighted dread as loud club music obliterated your ear drum as he shouted at you. 

“You bitch!” he spat. “Why the ever-loving f-fuck are y’blowin’ up my phone for?!”

You didn’t have time to process what he was saying before he’d already reloaded and shot you with more.

“What the hell is sooooo important? Huh? Y-you stupid bitch! You fuckin’ knew I’m busy t’night!”

You tore the phone away. Even at arm’s length, you, and the rest of your family, could hear every single thing he spewed at you. A couple from the table next to yours stopped mid-bite to turn and throw rude looks at you and your family.

“Tony, please, I–” 

“‘Tony please’– just shut up!” he mocked. “Just shut the fuck up! I don’t fuckin’ care what you gotta– what you have t’say! I can’t f–fuckin’ stand you anymore!”

Hurt and hunger morphed into churning waves of anxiety and embarrassment. Your throat was closing. Tears began stinging your eyes. You looked between your parents in shame, meeting their stunned looks filled with pity and disappointment. Your brother refused to look anywhere but the spot on his plate where he played with his food, sadness and second-hand embarrassment plaguing his face.

Yelling, jeering, and chanting echoed out of your phone. Tony didn’t stop. 

“Y’know what? I’m not doin’ this anymore,” he slurred, gulping some unknown liquid down, swallowing, gagging. More cheering. “We– we’re fuckin’ done. You’re out. I’m done.”

The other line fumbled. You winced as you heard Tony wet his lips, preparing the final blow. His breathing became heavy, ragged, hard enough you could smell the liquor through the phone.

“Fuckin’ cunt.” 

Click.

You loathed yourself for tolerating him; the endless cycle of poisoning you, providing the antidote, and taking it away when it seemed to get better. The whiplash from his unpredictable moods and personal attacks on you hurt as bad as it felt when he’d come around with endless apologies– accompanied by flowers, cuddles, and kisses– to heal each wound he was responsible for. 

This time, though, the stab was fatal. This time, you bled out; it’d been akin to getting gutted and hung helplessly in front of your fucking family. 

A sob snuck its way up your throat. You choked it down, willing your fist to reach up and knock on the door. You didn’t understand why this was next to impossible. Steve was your best friend. It wasn’t like he was a stranger. It wasn’t like he’d chastise you or yell at you or tell you to fuck off. Yet, there was a fear, deep down, feeding on the anxiety and self-doubt in the pit of your stomach, telling you the opposite; it whispered to you, telling you to run back to your car, scream into the steering wheel, and speed off to disappear from everything and everyone for just a little longer. It’d only be until you got your head on straight, until you figured out what to do with the apartment and your classes and your stuff and–

Knock. knock. knock.

In the blur of a million thoughts racing through your mind, you automatically reached up and weakly knocked, body tensing every muscle as you waited.

The door swung open, revealing one extremely concerned Steve Rogers.

Steve panted, a result from sprinting down the stairs from his upstairs bedroom in an attempt to open the back door by your first knock. Acutely aware of his jaw hanging from its hinges, Steve’s soft baby blues bore into you, scanning you up and down, stunned at you and your dress and how desperate you looked. 

Time stopped the second you saw him; it was difficult to describe, but everything magnetizing between the two of you was different. You felt different– different in the way he was familiar and somehow new at the same time. Steve felt different– different in the way you were single for the first time in two years and he was single since�� forever ago.

This time was unlike the million other times.

You both stared. Your lips quivered, his parted in disbelief. Both your minds instantly went blank, unable to think of anything to say, to do. So, the sky thought for you. It opened its floodgates, releasing a torrential downpour as you stood inches from warmth, from comfort.

“Steve,” you croaked, reaching for him. 

It was then, everything came crashing down. 

You crumbled to the ground in a heap, knees buckling while your hand and arms braced for impact with the ground. Steve quickly abandoned his tight grip on the doorframe, catching you, helping you inside. Lungs gasped for air as heavy sobs poured from your chest and tears flowed steadily down your face. You pawed at Steve’s arm hooked around you as he stumbled back into the house, kicking the door closed and collapsing onto the kitchen floor with you in tow. He immediately pulled you closer and hugged you tightly against his chest. You heaved, crying out from the painful pit in your heart, digging your fingers into his flesh, hard enough to bruise. You buried your face into his t-shirt and bawled.

All of it– the rage, the hurt, the mess of balled-up emotions from the last two fucking years– came unraveled. Hands twisted into Steve’s t-shirt, balling the fabric and pulling it taut enough to rip. 

Steve didn’t shout. He didn’t complain. He didn’t utter a single word as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets, rocking you gently, squeezing you harder as his chest rose and fell rhythmically against your pounding skull, silently coaxing you to follow his breathing. Blubbering in his lap, stringing words together became futile as thoughts became unrecognizable. Another wave of panic and anxiety crashed over you. Steve’s mumbled shushes softened you; the deep timbre and honeyed bass of his voice and vibrations in his chest grounded you, welcoming you to safety. To home. 

“Shh… don’t worry, I got you. I have you. You’re okay,” he muttered, running a hand gently up and down your back.

“I–he–bu–” you fumbled, lip quivering as another sob overtook you. Rage clawed at the walls in the chasm of your chest. You screamed. Guttural, pained. Again. And again.

“Shh… it’s okay, let it out. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” he soothed, rocking you, adding in a lowered octave, “I’m here.”

“T–Tony,” you hiccuped, fists twisting more of Steve’s t-shirt. “He–he–”

“What, angel? What about Tony?” 

“He–he c–called me n–names a–and,” you shook your head violently, “he b-broke up with me. For real, this time.”

Steve cupped your cheek, softly wiping away fresh tears with calloused fingertips. While you continued to cry in his arms, his focus turned to the back door you tumbled through. Inside, he seethed; his rage nearly boiled over at the thought of anyone doing this to you, let alone Tony fucking Stark. Out of all the things you’d told him over the last couple years– all the threats, the cruel jokes and abandonment and insults– tonight was the ultimate cherry on top. It validated every time Tony’s actions made Steve think vengeful thoughts on what he’d do if he ever got five minutes with the douchebag. Just five minutes. Alone. 

He shook the thought away, looking back down to you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him upset, let alone remotely think you were the cause of it. He’d promised himself that the first time you met.

Tony was going to fucking pay for what he’d done to you every single second for the last two years. And on your birthday, for chrissake. 

“What–” Steve swallowed the excess rage in his chest. “What kind of names, sweetie?”

You softened, sniffling, refusing to look at him. “He called me a b–bitch, a–and,” you bit your tongue, “a… cunt.”

The moment the word left your lips, Steve fought every last nerve in him not to put you to bed, get in his car, and go teach Tony a lesson on some fucking manners. Hell, even the idea of taking Bucky and Sam crossed his mind. 

He pushed the thought away, focusing back on you. You needed him. You came to him for help. No one else but him. 

Steve slid his hand off your back and placed it under your chin, thumb and forefinger gently coaxing you to look at him. Big blue eyes swam with concern and worry. In the dark of the kitchen, they seemed brighter than ever– a beacon guiding you back from the hurricane in your head.

In an instant, everything in your head went quiet. No more muffled echoes from the phone call. No more sobs readying to burst out your chest. No more caring about how swollen and puffy your eyes were, or the drying combination of mascara and tear stains running down your cheeks and neck. Your sopping wet dress that drenched the floor, and Steve, was pushed to the back of your brain, the cold no longer leaking into your bones as he brought you back down from the ledge.

All you saw was Steve. All you smelled, all you could feel, was Steve. 

Steve swallowed. His jaw slacked, tongue jutting out to wet his lips, slowly drinking you in for as long as he was able. 

And honestly? You couldn’t care enough to stop him. It’d been so long since someone looked at you the way Steve did.

Had he always looked at you like that?

“Listen to me. You are none of those things. Not even close,” he whispered, hoping you believed him. 

You nodded lightly. “I–I know, but it hurts,” your voice cracked again, eyes drifting away from him. 

“Hey, look at me,” he tugged at your chin, “you will never be anything like he says you are. Ever. Okay?”

You stared at him. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you placed a hand on his, taking it from your chin to your chest. Warmth bloomed as it rested against your damp skin. 

“‘Kay.” Barely a whisper. Enough for only him to hear.

He paused, gaze holding steady on you, lips twitching at the corners. 

“Let’s get you up ‘n out of that thing, yeah?” He nodded to your dress. “You gotta be freezing.”

Gently, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the kitchen floor and pulling you up on your feet. Your legs felt like a wobbly blend of jelly and nerves that forced you to lean onto Steve for support. He anticipated this, catching you and gripping your shoulders. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you clung to him as he guided you through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. You passed by Sam and Bucky’s rooms, both empty for the night, just like Natasha’s downstairs. 

As Steve rifled through his drawers and closet, your focus wandered to his messy desk: the lamp cast a soft, warm glow across the room, sitting next to history books and sketchbooks stacked high on top of one another; pencils and dirtied paint brushes littered the surface, products of his latest art assignment. His bed was half-made, dark green covers on one side neatly tucked in while the opposite was thrown aside, exposing gray pinstripe sheets. The walls were covered with scattered art– some his, others his favorite artists’– posters and pictures of family, friends, and some local bands. You bit back a smile. Memories of the shows you both went to over the last few years played like a highlight reel in your mind. You never regretted it; you never passed up a single invite, even after the time Tony locked you out for a whole weekend. 

“Here, these are clean,” he handed you a neatly folded pile of his clothes before adding, “I promise.”

A fuller smile broke across your face. The first of the entire night.

“Uh huh, sure, I believe you,” you joked sarcastically. He feigned hurt, scoffing at your false accusation.

“I did the sniff test, if that makes you feel any better.”

You giggled, taking the clothes from him and turning to head to the bathroom.

“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” he called after you. “You, um, you want something to drink?”

You paused, turning to look at him from the bathroom doorway halfway down the hall. From where he stood, the saturated pink creeping up his neck and reaching his face was more visible than the light on his desk. You couldn’t help but hold in a snicker and flash him a relieved smile, thankful.

“Coffee would be a godsend, right now.”

Steve smiled, saluting you. “Coming right up.”

You headed into the bathroom, tossing the clothes onto the counter, slumping against the door the second you shut and locked it. Finally relaxing, you realized how much tension was pent up in your tired shoulders– which, in turn, prompted the realization you were holding your breath the entire time in Steve’s room. 

Brushing the self-induced lightheadedness, you slipped the ruined dress off your body and hung it up on the shower rod. You hated the color, the texture, but wore it anyway. For Tony. On your birthday.

You cursed yourself, pulling your bra off next– a pushup that held your rib cage hostage the entire night. Just how Tony likes it. 

Or, liked it.

You silently prayed Steve included some Bailey’s in your coffee. 

Pulling on Steve’s sweatshirt, the scent of him enveloped you instantly. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the neck of it, filling your lungs with the familiarity of Steve. He was a quiet, sunny Sunday morning and freshly brewed coffee. He was a nice night in watching your favorite movies and playing cards. 

Your head was swimming, swirling, caught up in the entirety of your best friend. He was yours just as much as you were his. Through Tony, through other guys you’d subjected yourself to the last few years, none of them compared to Steve. 

You tugged the sweatpants on, catching sight of yourself in the mirror and realizing the runny makeup staining your face. You snorted at how fucking ridiculous you looked, remembering the caked-on layers you’d put on for the evening. Again, just for Tony. The snort turned into a giggle, utterly grateful for Steve not making fun of how you looked and for ignoring the mascara stains on his poor t-shirt from earlier.

But, again, it was Steve. He’d never make fun of you. Ever.

Butterflies– the ones you’d thought were long gone months prior– stuttered suddenly, alive and fluttering in your stomach. 

You instantly recognized the feeling: it was the same you had the day you met Steve.

The same feeling you’d get on roller coasters, or reading an exceptionally good romance novel. Giddiness, dizziness. It was as if you were spinning while the room stood still. Your head felt light, high on helium. Your skin burned. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you scanned yourself, the question ‘is this happening right now?’ running on a loop at the forefront of your mind. 

Bzzt.

You jumped at the buzz of a text. With the trance broken, you took into account your shaking hands and the bumping tempo of your heart. Turning on the sink, you made sure the water was as cold as possible before cupping some in your hands and splashing your face. Refreshing. Needed. You rubbed the rest of the runny wakeup off your skin, stuffing your face into the fluffy hand towel and silently promising to get the boys a new one. Picking up your phone, teeth chewed on cheek to hold in your smile at the sight of Steve’s name on the screen.

⍟ Steve: You doing OK? Coffees ready 

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You got this,” you told your reflection. “He’s only your best friend.”

The butterflies continued to multiply, bumping against one another, fluttering and escaping out into your chest and your limbs. 

“Fuck.”

You opened the door. 

⋆˙ઇଓ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“I was beginning to think you climbed out the window up there,” Steve quipped upon seeing you round the corner into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across his face when he saw you in his clothes. You looked more relaxed, more comfortable.

More like you. 

You noticed he changed, too, donning a heather-gray t-shirt that clung to his torso in all the right ways– ways you hadn’t noticed before.

You mentally scolded yourself.

“A–Almost. But I’d never pass up a cup of world-famous Rogers Roast.”

“Wow, world-famous? I would’ve preferred universally-renowned, but I’ll take it.” He held a mug out to you, one faded with a ‘I ❤ New York’ logo– the one you’d gotten for him during your senior-year college internship. “Made it just how you like it.” 

He paused as you took a sip. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you, biting his lip in anticipation as you drank. The coffee tasted like liquid gold, warm and comforting and all-around delicious. You didn’t care if you burnt your tongue. This was what you needed. 

He was what you needed. 

Was he?

You looked back up at Steve. His cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips together, entranced with the mug in your hands, eyes ever-so-slightly flitting from it to your lips and back again. 

“Thank you, Stevie.” 

“You’re welcome, angel.”

You pinched yourself, then took another sip.

Silence fell, comfortable and calm, as you both nursed your drinks, checking your phones and letting time pass. You didn’t care to check the clock. 

Steve cleared his throat and set his phone down. 

“So, um,” he began. “What else did you have planned for your birthday?” 

His voice was low, tender, careful with the question so as not to upset you. He was curious, however, and determined to see exactly how much Tony fucked up your night.

And your life.

“Oh,” you swallowed, chewing your lip in an attempt to remember what you’d originally planned.

“He was, ah, gonna take me dancing. After dinner, after he,” you took an unsteady breath, “after he met my family. It was the one thing he told me he'd let me do after dinner.” You shook your head, adding under your breath, “besides him.”

Tension seeped into the space between you both. You didn’t want to meet Steve’s stare; it was the one you’d always see whenever you told him about Tony, one filled with anger so palpable it made his arms flex subconsciously, one he thought he hid well enough so you never saw, but you always did. Without looking up, you already knew his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were stiff and his eyes bored a hole into the wall behind you. Butterflies started to somersault, crashing into the waves of worry and anxiety. 

“Why?”

You looked up. Blue eyes. Stormy, swirling, stubborn.

“What?”

“Why did you stay with him?” Steve asked steadily, voice barely above a whisper. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

You paused. “Because he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“I could’ve helped you. We could’ve helped you,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the house.

Your teeth tore into your bottom lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“I–” Steve sighed and carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, frustrated, trying to keep his promise while also appealing to you and balancing the fragile tightrope you two stood on. “I care about you, angel. I care about you so fuckin’ much. I just wanna know why. Why he was– why you were–”

“I–” Don’t fucking cry. “I was trapped. Every time I tried to leave, he’d tie me down more. It… it wasn’t as easy as you fucking think, Steve. Rose-colored glasses, wool over my eyes, wolf in sheep's clothing, that sorta thing, ya know? These last couple years, I… I don’t know why tonight was it, and I don’t know how I was able to get out, and I just… I don’t fucking know. I don’t. I–” 

You felt tears again. 

“I– Angel, I wasn’t trying to–”

“No, I know,” you cut him off, setting down your mug to rub your face in your hands. “I know. But I need you to understand that I– God, my fucking brain feels so scrambled. I just feel so confused, I feel like I’m going insane right now. Fuck!” 

You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths to feed your strained lungs, holding on to each before exhaling. In, hold, out, repeat. 

The room was spinning again, whirling around like a sick carnival ride as your center of gravity began to give.

As you braced the counter, strong hands and warm, muscular arms engulfed you, lifting you back from the countertop and guiding you into the middle of the kitchen. Steve pressed into you until you relented, reaching your arms around him and pulling him closer. The tension in your shoulders melted, migrating to your chest where your heart surged the moment he touched you, where it pounded against your sternum, threatening to break out of its marrow cage. You inhaled him, savoring him, feeling him all around you.

Slowly, delicately, Steve unwrapped from you. He was careful with every touch, as if he would shatter you– even though he had no problem with putting you back together again. He’d done it a million times before, and he’d do it a million times again.

He’d do it all again for you. 

Steve carefully slid your hands from around his center, placing one onto his shoulder, then– nervously and ever-so-slowly– he held your other hand out, sliding down your forearm and entwining his fingers into yours. His free hand fell softly onto your waist, fingers absently and lightly kneading the fabric and skin underneath his palm.

“May I have this dance?” he whispered.

You looked up from the floor to Steve, speechless. You nodded.

Then, he started to sway. He guided you both, rocking side to side to an unheard rhythm and subtly spinning in unison under the soft glow of the kitchen light.

He smiled softly, boyish and genuine, with admiration and tenderness in his eyes. Something gentle and kind, something about the feeling and the familiarity of it– of him– sank into you the longer you looked at him. Your focus shifted around the features of his chiseled face. You recognized the light freckles stippled across his nose and cheeks leftover from the summer; the scar on his earlobe from the night Natasha drunkenly dared you to pierce his ear and failed; the faint worry lines sculpted into his forehead he inherited from his father; the soft, full pink of his lips that innocently parted when you caught him staring at you.

It was the feeling that felt foreign to you; the one missing from your life after the last two years. But, it wasn’t missing. It had been right in front of you the entire time stealing glances, accidental touches, and irreplaceable memories.

Steve had been there. 

Steve had been the one looking at you like that for the last two years. 

He wasn’t missing. He was just waiting his turn. 

And, judging by the realization that washed over your face, his waiting was over. 

Steve's smile widened as he squeezed your waist, wordlessly confirming the thoughts running rampant in your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the ghost of a cry, blinking away tears forming in the corners of his vision. 

Your lips trembled as you smiled back. Slowly, you snaked your hand from his shoulder to his cheek and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch instantly, stubble and skin rubbed against your palm as he kissed it lightly. The press of his lips sent a spark coursing through your veins, electrifying your body and the air around you. The two of you continued to sway while the kitchen spun faster, a blurred whirlwind while you both remained in focus.

“When?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“Since the day I met you.”

“Why didn’t you–”

Steve shrugged. “I wanted to get to know you first. Didn’t wanna be some random dude who just wanted you for your number. You seemed too special to rush into something. Still are,” he sighed. “I wanted to be your friend first, but before I could muster up some courage, Tony swept you out from under me.” 

Guilt crawled up your throat. “I– I’m sorry, Stevie.”

He stepped away from you, twirling you, then dragged you back to him. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating. 

“No, baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I promise. I–” his voice broke. “I wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I just– I wish I did more for you. I should’ve done more for you.”

He tilted his head to the ceiling trying to stop his tears from falling, but you pulled him right back down to you. 

“Steve,” you started, keeping on his baby blues while your own voice struggled to remain steady, “you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the entire world. Hell, in my entire life. I just lost the last two years of my life suffering with someone I thought I loved. Who I thought loved me.”

You brought your other hand to his face. “You did all you could. I just… I thought it was gonna get better, you know? I thought, I hoped– God, I even fucking prayed– that he’d get better, but he didn’t. Nothing did. And I couldn’t find a way out. It’s like he conditioned me to believe he was the only one I had, like, he was the only one who’d ever save me.”

Steve frowned, but nodded in understanding. 

“I’m glad you came to me. Not just tonight, but every night. It was like reassuring me that I didn’t totally lose you, or like I never totally lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Stevie.”

His face, red-hot underneath your touch, moved closer to yours. You couldn’t tell if you were pulling or he was pushing. His hands gripped your waist the tighter you held his face, the two of you crashing into one another in slow-motion. The light above you grew brighter, the humming of the appliances was getting louder, the room spun at an infinitely unfathomable speed. 

You crashed together. 

Soft lips– softer than either of you could’ve ever pictured feeling– fit together like the perfect puzzle pieces. Neither of you moved, staying locked together until your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer and smashing his nose into your cheek. His grip became bruising as his fingers kneaded into your waist, steadying himself with your hips. You felt another surge of electricity as his tongue jutted out, parting your lips and swiping along the bottom before retreating back behind his.

He tipped you backwards on your heel, smirking against your lips as you flinched and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt. 

Setting you upright, he pulled away from the kiss and whispered, “I’ll never let you go.”

“Never?” 

“Ever.”

You kissed him again, and the butterflies went wild. 

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

In The Middle of Nowhere (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 1. Drugging, 5. Kidnapping, 17. Hypothermia, 20. Dehumanization Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, dark!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, dark!Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Reader (no relationships) Summary: You wake up to find that you have been drugged, tied up, and taken to the middle of the woods on a cold, snowy night. The two men grinning down at you scream trouble but you are about to discover it is worse than you could have possibly imagined... Word Count: 5523 TW: Drugging, Kidnapping, Tied Up, Frostbite, Forced Undressing, Language, Mentions of Murder and Mutilation, Hunted for Sport, Getting Off on Thoughts of Violence/Death, Bradley is Taller than Reader, Reader's POV Notes: I am EXTREMELY proud and excited about this series and hope you enjoy! Huge thank you to @loverhymeswith and @green-socks for all of your help!💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Series Masterlist

Something cold and wet lands gently on your cheek. Though very light, it’s enough to rouse you from your sleep. As you shift, trying to find a more comfortable position to lie in, your head pounds painfully in time with every beat of your heart and you moan softly. You must have had a few (or more) shots before leaving work last night because you can’t remember getting home…or how you got home…or even closing down the bar. How much did you have to drink?

It’s cold—much colder than it should be—and you vaguely wonder if your heater crapped out again. The last time that happened, it took your landlord almost a week to fix it so you really hope that isn’t the case. You try to reach for your blanket, wanting to just curl up in a warm cocoon to sleep off this headache, but your arms seem stuck or tangled together somehow. Could you have fallen asleep in the middle of taking off your shirt again? It has only happened twice but both times were when you were blackout drunk so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities…

Reluctantly, you force your eyes open so you can figure out what stupidity you have gotten yourself into this time–only to freeze as your vision comes into focus. 

You had expected to see your bedroom ceiling or even possibly the ceiling of the bar’s break room above you, but instead, you open your eyes to see a man leering down at you, his face twisted into a sort of predatory grin. 

Though the gleam in his eye is giving you the creeps, you try to remain calm even as your heart begins pounding in your chest. There could be a thousand perfectly innocent reasons this man is here looming over you like this and it’s best to not jump to conclusions until you know what’s going on. Besides, there is something vaguely familiar about this burly brunet. You know you have seen him somewhere before, though your groggy mind can’t quite place him. However, as soon as a second man (this one blond) steps into view, it all comes rushing back—these two had been at the bar earlier.

You hadn’t interacted with the first man very much, just took his order, poured him his drink, and topped it off once or twice when he got low. However, it hadn’t escaped your attention that he never took his eyes off of you the entire time you chatted with his buddy. And while the brunet had kept his distance, this blond had bent over backward trying to capture every ounce of your attention all night long. You had been bartending long enough to know exactly what kind of guy he was and what he was angling for, but you had to admit, those mesmerizing green eyes and the way that cocky smile curled around the toothpick he was chewing on all night did make you a little weak in the knees.

However, all of that quickly flies from your mind as your eyes settle on the large hunting knife the blond is currently spinning in his hands as he licks his lips, grinning at you. 

Something is wrong. Very wrong. Get out now! A wave of terror clears the remaining fog in your mind as all of your instincts scream at you to flee. But as you try to scramble up off your back, you finally notice the thick rope wrapped around your wrists and another around your ankles. And to make matters worse, you seem to be lying in a small metal box of some sort. Your body has been crammed and twisted at a weird angle in order to fit, and the way it resembles a coffin makes a fresh chill run up your spine. 

As you release a shuddering gasp, you realize that though restrained, your mouth has been left uncovered. Instantly, you begin screaming as loud as you can, alternating between “help” and just a wordless high-pitched shriek as you thrash around within the box. Pain shoots through you as your knees collide with the sides of the box and you hit one of your funny bones, but you ignore it and just keep screaming. 

After a moment, you catch sight of your kidnappers’ faces and your heart sinks. They are expecting this. And what’s worse, based on their sadistic smirks, they are enjoying this. Which means they’re not concerned about anyone hearing you, no matter how much noise you make.

Though terrified by this realization, you force yourself to fall silent and lie still, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of watching you continue to beg for help. 

Seemingly satisfied you are done with your freak-out, the brunet pulls himself up the side of the box until he looms over you, his broad frame filling your entire field of vision. His gaze travels down your prone form, lingering on your ass, breasts, and lips before he finally locks eyes with you. His lips curl into a sickening grin as he says, “Well, hello there, sweetheart. Ready to have some fun?”

Without waiting for an answer, he looks at the blond and jerks his head in your direction. Suddenly, everything around you begins to shake as you hear a metallic thud followed by the loud thumping of boots, and the blond appears towering next to you. He gives you a wink and a small click of his tongue before his hands slide under your shoulders and he lifts you up. As he does so, the brunet grabs your feet and you are roughly hauled out of the container.

As they lift you out, whatever insolation or protection the box had been providing you disappears and you are hit with the full chill of the late winter’s night air, causing you to instantly start shivering. For the first time, in the light of the electric lanterns the men had placed around the area, you get a good look at yourself and realize that while the men are dressed in heavy jackets layered over the flannel shirts they had on at the bar, you have been stripped down to your underwear and the thin tank top you were wearing that night under your uniform. At least you had opted for your boyshorts tonight instead of your thong, but you still shiver once more—and this time, it has nothing to do with the cold.

There is no telling what these men did to you while you were unconscious. Obviously, you must have been manhandled to some degree if they undressed you, tied you up, and stuffed you into a box, but was that as far as they went? Or did they have a different kind of fun with you while you had no way of fighting back or saying no? Tears sting the corners of your eyes as a hundred different scenarios play out in your head, and you hope it just appears like your eyes are watering from the cold. You would hate for these two to think they have broken you already.

As they stand you up on the snow-covered ground, your bare feet sink in the soft powder almost up to the top of your ankles. You gasp as you try to bounce from one foot to the other in an attempt to provide your poor feet any relief from the cold, but the rope around your ankles causes you to almost topple over. The only thing that keeps you from crashing into the snow is the brunet who reaches out to steady you. Silently, he bends down and unties the rope, though once he’s done, he walks away without touching the one still wrapped around your wrists. 

Now able to bounce more steadily as you try to keep your feet from going completely numb, you begin to take in your surroundings. Glancing over your shoulder, you see a big, black, lifted pickup truck with an open metal toolbox in the bed—which explains why you were so cramped in the box. Looking past the truck, all you can see is rows and rows of trees. They seem to go on forever until disappearing into the void of darkness just beyond the glow from the lanterns. No wonder these men hadn’t worried about your screaming. There are enough woods outside of town that you could currently be ten or fifteen miles from anyone who could help you.

There’s no one but you and the two men who brought you here.

You don’t know what their plan for you is, but you decide the best course of action is to just be as agreeable as possible until the situation changes. So, forcing yourself to give them a lighthearted chuckle even as another shiver shakes your scantily clad body, you try to make your voice as positive as you can. “Hey guys, I don’t know what’s going on here, but if this is your idea of a joke, I don’t find it very funny. So why don’t you just untie me and we can all head back to town.”

“Oh, this is no joke—it’s a game. And you are the missing piece we were looking for,” the brunet says and your forced smile slowly fades. “What do you remember about tonight?”

Still willing to go along with them for now, you close your eyes and try to search through the cloud of fog and fear that is filling your mind. “I…I went to work like usual. Then you two came in an hour or two into my shift.” You nod at the brunet. “You were drinking whiskey, neat.” You nod towards the blond. “And you were having old fashioneds. You sat at the bar for a few hours talking to me in between customers. Yo-you mentioned you were waiting for a couple of friends to make it to town, but they never showed up. Then…” Your memories get fuzzier the later in the night you try to remember. “Then, you left after I announced last calls. You said…you said you’d be seeing me around…”

The two men exchange excited glances as the brunet nods. “You remember more than most….good. It’s more fun when they remember.”

The blond takes a few steps closer to you and reaches out to slowly drag his finger across your lips. “I wonder if you also remember the taste of my tongue in your mouth.”

You flinch away from his touch, diverting your eyes as you feel your stomach threatening to heave. Yes, you remember that too. Against all of your self-made rules and instincts, you had allowed yourself to be charmed by one of your soon-to-be-kidnappers towards the end of the night. 

He had bet you a kiss that he could hit the bulls-eye on the dartboard without looking and you had taken him up on his offer, never imagining he could actually do it. But when he threw the dart behind him, his eyes locked firmly with yours as he did so, and it hit the dead center of the board, he had taken his prize. More than that, you had allowed him to get to second base while he shoved his tongue down your throat. In the moment, you enjoyed it—a lot. In fact, you had even considered asking him to meet you out back once you closed down, but now even the slightest brush of his skin against yours makes you sick to your stomach.

As you cower into yourself, the blond’s grin grows even wider, his green eyes sparkling in the lantern light. “Fuck yeah, you do remember. I gotta admit, if you hadn’t downed that shot so quickly, I was going to try to postpone this whole thing once I got that taste of you. Fucking delicious. I can only imagine how sweet the rest of you must taste. Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to find out later tonight.”

The feeling of nausea rolling in your stomach intensifies and you can feel the bile burning the back of your throat. Swallowing it back down, you choke out, “The shot? What shot?”

“The other part of our bet. Remember?”

Thinking long and hard, you try to recall what else you had agreed to in your bet. When it suddenly comes to you, you gasp, “I agreed to one drink. You put something in it!”

“You made it so easy,” the brunet says, practically purring with delight. “Usually, I have to really struggle to find just the right moment to slip our little concoction in when the target isn’t looking, but you were so preoccupied with your makeout session, I could have injected it straight into your veins and I doubt you would have noticed. And you made it easier still by choosing Fireball. The flavor covers all traces of the drugs unlike vodka shots so I’m not surprised you didn’t have any clue what had happened. That is the point, after all.”

“To get me out here to play your game?” Both men nod. “What kind of game?”

“The rules are simple,” the brunet explains, the electric lights casting sinister shadows across his face as he stalks closer. “You run, we chase. If you make it out of the woods or stumble across anyone else to help you, you win and we disappear into the night, never to bother you again. But if one of us hunts you down before you escape, that person wins the game and their prize is the right to do whatever they want to you as long as they finish the job before sunrise.”

Their prize is the right to do whatever they want to you as long as they finish the job…. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” you spit, all attempts at fake pleasantness abandoned as you are hit by the reality of how epically fucked up this situation truly is. Both men seem slightly taken aback by your drastic shift in tone and you straighten up to your full height as you continue. “I am not a fucking toy for you to play with o-or a prize to be won. One of you will win the right to do whatever they want to me? I don’t give you that right and I’m the only one who has a say in that. You can’t do this!”

“I hate to break it to you, but we can and we have and we will again. This is our game, and we’ve never lost.” The brunet stalks forward until his chest is just a few inches from yours and he sneers down at you. “Do you really think we haven’t heard all this before? Please. We’ve been playing this game once a month for over a decade. ‘Oh, please let me go. I have kids who need me.’ ‘I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me!’ ‘If you let me go right now, I promise I won’t tell a soul what happened. No police, I swear.” His voice switches between various high-pitched mocking tones as he imitates their past victims and your heart aches for the hundred or so women who found themselves in this same situation over the years. 

Returning to his normal voice, the brunet leans over until you are enveloped by the visible cloud of his breath in the cold air. “No. The moment we chose you, your life was over. You belong to us now and we are the only ones who have a say in what happens to you now. And tonight…tonight we say you are a fox and we are the hounds who intend to chase you down and rip out that beautiful throat of yours. You are the prey and we are the predators; the hunted and the hunters. And the sooner you accept that the better this will be for all of us. Do you understand?”

You understand. You are about to die out here in the darkness of the trees, hunted down like an animal and subjected to God-only-knows-what horrors before you are finally murdered in cold blood. And while they are pretending to give you a way out, you have lost all feeling in your feet long ago, you can barely bend your fingers in the cold, and you are shivering so much you can barely see straight. In other words, you don’t stand a chance.

The brunet continues to look at you for an answer so you slowly nod your head. Satisfied, he straightens up and walks back over to the blond. 

But before either of them can say anything, you ask, “Why me?”

The brunet turns around. “What?”

“Why did you pick me?”

“Why not?” the blond grins. 

The brunet chuckles softly and shakes his head at his friend. However, he then decides to give you a real answer. “Well, first of all, you’re gorgeous which doesn’t necessarily affect the game but it’s a little of an added incentive to win the prize. Second of all, watching you dart around behind that bar all night, lifting boxes of alcohol, and holding your own against a few unruly customers made us think that you could hold your own out here, at least for a while, which makes things more interesting. And third of all, we could tell you have some fire in you. We like fire. That means you won’t just roll over and give up.”

“Yeah, we do not want a repeat of Des Moines,” the blond groans. “That chick just curled up in a ball crying and wouldn’t even leave the clearing. We finally had to just put her down. It ruined the whole trip.”

“But she’s not going to do that, are you, little fox?” the brunet purrs at you. “No, you’re gonna be one of our fighters. Like our girl outside of Austin. Oh…she was a wiley one.” He traces one finger over the scars littering his face and neck that were partially covered by his scruff. “Fought like a hellcat until the very end, scratching and biting and making sure to leave her mark. But I made her pay for each and every one of these. Just something for you to keep in mind once we start.”

“Oh, damn, I forgot about that.” The blond lets out an impressed whistle. “When I found you two, I didn’t even realize it was at first. I thought you had killed a coyote or a deer or something. And even once I knew, I could barely tell that mess used to be human. You were riding that high for weeks.” 

The two men begin talking over each other bringing up their favorite hunts in the past, each one more horrible than the last. Each story you hear adds a new fear of what might happen to you before the end of the night. However, it also adds fuel to the anger building in your belly. How these two men had been getting away with this for so long, after doing this to so many women, was incomprehensible. Surely someone must have noticed over a hundred women disappearing over the past decade and started to investigate. These two didn’t seem like criminal masterminds by any means, so how had they managed to avoid detection for so long?

As you continue to watch them go back and forth with tales of past hunts, you shake your head and softly murmur under your breath, “Who the hell are you two?”

The two men stop reminiscing and turn to face you. You hadn’t meant for them to hear your question, but apparently they had.

“Have we not introduced ourselves? Aw, where are our manners?” the brunet asks, taking a step closer to you. “You can call me ‘Rooster’ and that Casanova over there—” he jerks his head towards the blond “—is ‘Hangman’.”

“Rooster and Hangm– What the fuck kinds of names are those?” 

“Well, you see, our boy here—” Hangman comes over to wrap his arm around Rooster’s shoulder and slaps him on the chest “—he’s a crooner. Loves to crow when he catches his prey so everyone knows he won. He’s a bit of a showoff. And me…let’s just say my name’s a bit more self-explanatory.” 

With the hand not draped across Rooster’s shoulders, he shifts his arm so his jacket pulls back to reveal a length of rope ending in a noose tucked into his belt. “As much as I love a little foreplay with my knives, it can’t compare to watching someone gasping and struggling for air as they flail wildly three feet off the ground. Then seeing that moment when everything goes still and the light softly dims in their eyes?” He shivers with a small “whoo” of delight. “There’s nothing like it in the world. It’s even better than sex.”

Just when you think these two can’t get any worse, they somehow manage to top themselves. Your voice dripping with disgust, you ask, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Hangman shrugs. “Because we are killing time until we can start the game and then, in an hour or two, it won’t matter that you know. Plus, it’s nice actually getting to share our accomplishments with someone else for once. That’s the worst downside to having an illegal hobby. You can’t tell anyone about it besides the few people who were there when it happened.”

Suddenly, Hangman’s pocket lights up and the muffled sounds of “Slow Ride” fill the air. Rooster glares at the sheepish blond as he pulls his phone out and glances at the screen. But any contrition he seems to have quickly evaporates and he answers the call as a wide grin splits across his face. 

“Hey, you almost here? We’ve got a real spitfire this time. It’s gonna be one hell of a competition.” Hangman listens for a moment then his face falls. “Damn. Yeah, no, I understand.” Glancing up at Rooster, he mouths ‘not gonna make it’ before turning his focus back to the phone.

With a heavy sigh, Rooster looks down at you. “Sorry, little fox. We weren’t lying before. We were supposed to be meeting some friends who wanted to play too. But it looks like it’ll just be the three of us after all.” 

That predatory gleam you had seen on his face when you first woke up returns as he leans in until his lips are practically brushing against the curve of your ear. In a soft whisper, he says, “But it wouldn’t have mattered. You’re mine, baby girl. I’ve known from the second I laid eyes on you in that bar that I had to have you. Hangman might get to you first and slice you up a little bit, but at the end of the night, it’s going to be me with my hands around your throat as the light leaves your eyes and you take your final, desperate gasp of air.” He leans back with a moan as his eyes flutter closed and his tongue runs across his lips. “Fuck…I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

You have never felt such deep, burning feelings of disgust or anger like you feel towards Rooster. But using that fire coursing through your veins to give you strength, you clasp your bound hands together and drive them into the side of Rooster’s head. Because his eyes are still closed as he revels in the idea of your murder, he never sees it coming. 

Your fists slam into his face and you feel the crunch of his nose behind your force. Both of you topple sideways to the ground but you instantly try to scramble to your feet before he comes to his senses. However, you struggle to use your tied hands to push yourself to your feet in the soft snow and just as you are starting to figure out how to stand, Rooster’s elbow drives into your right temple.

Collapsing like a ton of bricks, the soft snow cushions your fall. Darkness begins closing in until there is just a single circle of light swimming in the center of your vision. Waves and waves of pain are radiating throughout your body and a low moan flows from your lips. 

In that small dot of light, you see a blurry Rooster come into view. There is blood flowing from his nose and a hungry rage burning in his eyes. Leaning in close, he spits, “Be glad the game hasn’t started yet. Otherwise, I would be cutting off each of your fingers one by one before shoving them down your throat. But don’t think I’ll forget this once the hunt has begun.” 

Ignoring his threats, you press your aching temple deeper into the snow, using the cold powder as a sort of ice pack to ease the pain a little. It is the first time all night you are thankful for the freezing snow surrounding you. However, you can also feel it soaking into your tank top and underwear, and you know that being wet in this environment is just going to make things a hundred times worse. But seeing as there’s nothing you can do about it, you just try to focus on the slight relief the snow is providing your pounding head.

Distantly, you hear Hangman end his call and hesitantly approach where you lay. Rooster spits a wad of bloody saliva onto your cheek before rising and turning towards his friend. “What happened?”

“There was a big snowstorm just east of here and the roads are coated in ice. Even the truck can’t make it through for at least a few more hours. So it looks like it’ll just be us this time.”

“Just like the old days.”

“Just like the old days.” Hangman glances down at you. “Is there something I should know?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Rooster says as he wipes the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand. “She wanted to start the game early, but I made sure she’ll follow the rules from now on. Isn’t that right, little fox?” He nudges your side with the toe of his boot.

The pain throbbing in your head is still overwhelming despite the slight relief provided by the snow and your vision has yet to clear. However, you lift your head slightly and glare at the man towering over you. With all the viper you can muster, you hiss, “Fuck you.”

Rooster’s face splits into a cruel grin, made even more sinister by the blood still staining his face. “That’s my girl.” Then, turning to Hangman, he says, “Well, if they aren’t coming, I guess we can start. Get her up.”

Hangman walks over and hauls your limp body to a standing position. Though you are still unsteady on your feet, you manage to stay upright. Then to your surprise, Hangman pulls out one of his knives from earlier and cuts the rope binding your hands. Your arms ache from being held in the same position for so long and your wrists are rubbed raw from the rope burns, but it is still a relief to be free once more. You immediately shove your numb hands under your armpits in an attempt to get some feeling back to them, but you can already tell it won’t do much good. The rest of your body is too cold to provide much relief.

Grabbing your elbow, Hangman leads you over to where Rooster is standing next to a pile of supplies in the middle of the clearing. He positions you so you are standing facing Rooster and then he goes to stand next to his friend. 

Satisfied everything is set, Rooster says, “It’s time for the game to begin. You have a five-minute head start to get as far away from here as you can. Once your time is up, we start the hunt. The only rules are what I said before: If you find help or civilization before we catch you, then you go free. If one of us finds you before then, the game is over and the winner gets to claim his prize. And your time starts now.” He presses a button on his watch and you hear a soft beep. 

Five minutes. That’s potentially all the time you have left in this world. You know you should take off and try to put as much distance between yourself and this place as you can, but if these are your last moments of life, you are going to give these two psychos a piece of your mind before you go.

“You two are so pathetic,” you snarl. “You see yourselves as these great hunters and killers but you’re shooting fish in a barrel and then boasting about your prize. You drug these girls, strip them down, send them off without a way of even trying to protect themselves, and then brag you are mighty warriors when your victims can’t even put up much of a fight. And the only reason you don’t give anyone a real chance is because you know you might actually lose.”

Hangman nervously glances at Rooster as he shifts uncomfortably. Your words have had their intended effect as doubt settles in on him. However, Rooster doesn’t seem the least bit phased. Instead, he smirks at you as his eyes narrow.

“Nice try, but we’re not falling for it. Now, get going while there’s still time on the clock. We want a challenging game but don’t think for one second we won’t kill you right here if you haven’t moved when the timer goes off. We’ve done it before.”

“At least give me my jacket or shoes or pants or something! I’m gonna get frostbite or hypothermia before either of you can catch me, and then where does that leave your game?”

“What did I just tell you? We’re. Not. Falling. For. It,” Rooster growls.

“I don’t know, maybe she’s right.” Rooster turns his glare to Hangman who shrinks back but continues speaking. “I mean, we’ve never done this in the snow or the cold so we might need to adjust slightly. Plus, her lips are already starting to turn blue and she’s shivering really hard. I don’t want this to turn into another environmental death like last time when the girl fell off the cliff or that time in Reno where the girl got bit by the rattlesnake. If she’s gonna die, one of us should get to be the one who does it, not the cold.”

Rooster sighs as he considers this, his hand scrubbing across the short scruff along his jaw. He turns back to stare at the truck for a long time before he finally nods. “Fine. She can have her jacket back. But that’s all.”

Relief floods through you at the thought of any kind of warmth, but your smile fades as Hangman jogs over to the truck and pulls your jacket out of the back seat. You had forgotten which one you wore to work today. 

While it did have the added benefit of being one of the warmer jackets you owned—a thick hooded jacket with fuzzy sherpa lining that falls to the top of your knees and has several pockets to warm your hands in—it was also a light burnt-orange color that will stand out like a beacon amongst both the pure white snow and darkness of the night. Rooster smirks at you and you have a feeling that he didn’t forget about the color. The olive branch he had extended was in fact covered in thorns.

Yet, as soon as Hangman tosses you the jacket, you quickly pull it on, zip it up, flip the hood up over your head, and jam your fists into your pockets. You are still completely bare from your knees down, but at least the coverage from the snow and the warmth you can already feel melting the chill in your upper half is a vast improvement. You just wish you had been given your boots back as well. Your feet have been completely numb from almost the minute they sunk into the deep snow, and the idea of trying to run miles and miles like this terrifies you. 

But what choice do you have?

Glancing at his watch, Rooster says, “You now have…three minutes forty-eight seconds. Time is ticking.”

There’s no point in wasting any more of the time you have left, so you pick a direction and start walking towards the wall of trees at the edge of the clearing. 

When you pass him, Hangman winks at you, runs his tongue over his lips, and whispers, “I’ll be seeing you real soon.” 

At this point, you aren’t really sure which man you are more frightened of tracking you down. But then your mind flashes back to the pure pleasure on Rooster’s face as he talked about watching the light leave your eyes, and you know who you would rather have find you.

As soon as you leave the clearing, you take off into the dark woods as fast as your frozen feet will allow.

Part 3 coming soon!

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[goobieboobie]

ultraviolence 0.1

| 70s pornstar! joel miller x preachers daughter! reader

Your prayers aren't enough to keep big, bad Joel away...

Warnings (for this chap!): abortion references and allusions, child/domestic abuse, prostitution allusions, kind of dubcon allusions (reader is misled by Jeremiah abt getting pregnant???), mentions of guns, young reader (roughly 19-20), barely legal sex work (person referenced is a senior is highschool, she's 18 but not explicitly stated), extreme dubcon for sex work (reader rlly doesn't want to do it, but is convinced), creepy scary man MDNI!!

“How’d you end up here, baby?”

You’d been asked the question about a hundred times a day since you arrived in LA, church dress tattered and knee-high socks torn. Carmen had taken you in, dragging you away from the bus stop the second you’d stepped foot off of the��Grey Rabbit, exhausted from a night-long drive from Texas. 

She picked you up after her shift on the street corner, so delirious from her night that she thought she’d imagined you. “You looked straight outta the gospel, kid, thought you might be my guardian angel.”

She turned out to be more of a guardian angel to you than anything else, setting you up in her overcrowded three-bedroom near Venice. Even though you’d had to share a bed with her for the first weeks of your arrival, you were happy to not be destitute. 

She was the first one to ask the question, her roommate, Laura, a high school senior only a year or two younger than you, right by her side. “So, how’d you end up here, honey?” Carmen had a sugary sweet Southern lilt to her voice, different from the rural Texan accent you’d developed over the years. 

You’d rehashed the night of your escape to her and Laura, from getting caught with Jeremiah in the barn to running barefoot to the cross-country bus station three miles away from the farm, lantern guiding your path. 

“Dontcha think California’s a bit overkill? What is it, two thousand miles away from yer Daddy?” Carmen clearly didn’t understand the will her father possessed. He would tear apart every town within a thousand miles to find his wayward daughter, to save the child in her womb. 

It had happened weeks ago, the life inside you was probably only the size of a pea; that didn’t matter to Daddy. It wasn’t easy to get condoms in a small town like yours, and even harder to get your pediatrician (an avid member of your church) to prescribe you birth control. Jeremiah had insisted it was fine, there was no risk of getting pregnant your first time, the odds were against you. 

Daddy had found out the night you left, so angry he shook your body around like a ragdoll and slapped you around the living room in front of your sisters and mother. He had already chased Jeremiah away, shotgun in hand, your pleas of “But Daddy, I love him!” falling on deaf ears. 

You cried and cried while he asked you to give him one good reason to not chase him down and shoot him dead. You had panicked, shouted that you were pregnant, needed him to help you raise the baby, but that had just spurred him on, made him angrier. 

He was so blind with rage, yelling like a drunkard, that you managed to make it out through the front door, running nimbly through the dark woods near the house before he could catch up. 

Carmen took you to the clinic the next morning, holding your hand as you walked past the bus stop from the morning before.“Poor lil’ thing, can’t go raisin’ a baby when yer just one yerself.” 

You cried in the waiting room, cried in the doctor’s office, cried as it happened, cried when it was done and over with. You only stopped when the doctor asked that damned question. 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he pushed his glasses up his crooked nose, you imagined it was bent from a punch years ago, maybe a patient with more gut than you, “How’d you end up here?” 

When you walked back to the house, legs achy and stomach twisting, Carmen stopped you in the middle of the sidewalk, putting her hands down hard on your shoulders, making you look up at her. “Don’t answer to nosy assholes like him.” She took her hands off of you. “Ever.” She sniffed. “You don’t owe ‘em shit.” 

Two weeks into your stay, Laura set up a meeting with a friend of hers to talk about a job he had for you. It was already cramped in the little house, there were five other girls staying in the other rooms, even worse in the room you were staying in. 

“I don’t know what kinda job he’s got for me, he ain’t even met me yet. Don’t know a thing about me.” Laura made sure to dress you up real nice for the meeting, styling you in the best of Carmen’s clothes, the more scandalous ones you hadn’t been stealing from her closet. 

“Don’t you worry about it, doll.” She stuck out her tongue in concentration as she fixed your hair. “Harry’s not bad, you’ll get used to him. He’ll be totally into your whole farmer’s daughter thing.” 

“Not a farmer’s daughter.” You grumbled back, annoyed at the prospect of meeting this Harry. Anyone who wanted to meet this late at night was surely up to no good.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Laura walked you down to the club you were meeting at, skipping the line and heading right to the bouncer. He took one look at you and the young girl next to you and lifted the velvet rope. Laura squealed at you. 

Harry was easy to pick out in a crowd. He looked sleazy, like the type of guy to make wayward deals with newly legal girls. He wore gold aviators, despite the night around you and the darkness of the club. He took them off when he saw Laura, his eyes were distinctly red. 

“My little Laura Lee!” He exclaimed when he saw her, reaching his arms out to pull her down on his lap and plant a deep kiss on her lips. You could see his tongue move into her mouth. 

“You must be the sweet kid little Laurie was tellin’ me about.” He smiled at you, pulled you close. You could smell the liquor on his break, could see the white on his nose. 

“Oh, she’s real good, Harry!” Laura hung on his arm, looking deep in his eyes. He wasn’t looking at her; he was sizing you up.

“Could lean into that whole innocence thing, I guess. If that’s your cuppa tea.” His eyes raked down your body, lingering at the short hem of Carmen’s white dress, one of her only semi-modest pieces. “You a virgin, babydoll?” 

Your face heated, so angry you’re sure your ears were turning red. You stuttered at him for a second before Laura took over. “Don’t be silly, Harry! You think I’d bring you some blushing virgin?” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “She’s got loads of experience!” 

“I don’t know, Laur, some’ll pay a pretty penny for an untouched one.” He took your’s and Laura’s arms, dragging you to the booth he was previously sat at. 

“No, no, I didn’t bring her here to work a corner like me and Carm! She’s nowhere near ready for that typa shit!” Laura burst into a fit of giggles. “I thought you could help her out like you did Meg, maybe produce some for her, get her in with the directors, y’know.” Harry weighed his options.

“I dunno know, Laurie…” 

“What the hell is goin’ on.” You gained sense of yourself again, tired of being talked about but not talked to. You should’ve laid Harry out for the question he asked you before, wished you did like Carmen had told you. You were still thinking about doing it. 

Harry looked at your face for the first time that evening, eyes focused on yours, not anywhere else, even as he asked Laura, “Did you tell her? You naughty little thing…” 

Maybe you were wrong, maybe the being talked about was worse than the talked to. Staring into his eyes felt like staring into a bottomless pit, felt like you were looking the Devil right in the face. 

“Well, damn! I thought you figured it out! Didn’t know I needed to spell it out for a smarty pants like you!” Laura giggled again. You were getting real tired of that. 

Harry spoke up for her. “It’s porn, honey.” You blinked at him, sputtered again. “No big deal. Won’t make you do nothin’ crazy.” He winked. “Not yet, at least.”

“I-I don’t, I’m not that kinda- Who would even-”

“Honey, you don’t gotta do it if you don’t wanna. Nobody’s makin’ you do nothin’.” He leaned forward on the table between y’all, forearms on the sticky wood soaked from past drunks. “It would be a real shame if you said no, though. After all the work little Laura went through to set this up for you. Betcha could make it real big too.” He scooted around the edge of the booth, saddled himself up next to you. 

“You’re real pretty, y’know. Bet a lotta people would want to see you like that. I know I would.” He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear and leaned close to you. “Wouldn’t have to put Laura and Carm out any more, could get a place of your own. ‘M sure you’d be famous, you’d be a star.” His words were sounding more and more like gospel; the ideas he was laying out made your head spin. 

“Really, I’m not that kinda girl. I’m a Christian.” 

He groaned loud in your ear, knocking his head back in frustration. “Aren’t we all?” He grabbed the back of your neck, forcing your face centimeters away from his. You could see the cap in his front tooth. “Baby, you want this. I know you do, otherwise why would you have come. You knew all along what this meeting was for, even if you don’t think you did.” “I-I really didn’t-”

“Yes, you did. Subconsciously, you knew that the only reason I would meet a shy little thing like you was for somethin’ like this. Especially given the crowd you’ve taken to.” Maybe he was right, you knew that there would be some kind of bad business at this kinda place, this late at night. 

Your eyes met Laura’s, almost having forgotten she was there. She had a big, bright smile on her face. She had taken you in off the street, had given you everything she had. She wouldn’t lead you astray. 

“So,” Harry started, turning your gaze back to his, “Will you do me the honors of representin’ you. I would love to have your name attached to mine.” You nodded your head, earning a yellowed smile from the man in front of you. “But, I have some questions, some things I need to know before-” “We’ll get to that babydoll, just let me worry about all that.” He leaned back, put his arms around you and Laura. “Now, tell me, how’d you end up here, baby?”

A/N: promise we'll meet joel in next chap i'm just trying to lay the groundwork!!!! also if anyone is interested in me sharing the playlist pls lemme know i'll do it i've been listening to it to inspire me!!! also this is not beta read, if anyone would like to beta read for me i would be so honored and grateful bless it

[divinemare]

Cruel Cauldron

✎ᝰ┆azriel x oc

ᝰ┆part three

part two

—— —͙ – -

Back on Anthra, Karina had barely set foot on land when Fariha, the General of the Queen's Alhara, and the female whose daughter was responsible for this whole mess in the first place, intercepted her.

"Fariha! It's only been a few weeks and already I feel like I haven't seen your frown so deeply furrowed in years," Karina forced her voice to sound a few tones higher as she saw the General's short shoulder-length black hair and scarred brown skin.

"Your mother awaits for you, Karina," the female with a voice so deep it almost sounded masculine greeted her as she always had in her 300 years of life: with a frown that detonated annoyance but was restrained out of mere respect for her position.

"And when is she not," sighed the princess, leaving the soldiers to load her bags while she made sure Fariha saw her most dramatic performance as she stepped off the ship.

Maxon went down with her, while Bastian stayed behind to talk to Fariha about technicalities and Mother knows what other soldier stuff.

"If I run now, how long do you think I have before I get tackled?" She asked Maxon in a whisper.

"Considering you're a terrible runner, I'd say about...10 seconds? 20 being extremely optimistic."

"Damn, I shouldn't have skipped those training sessions," she sighed deeply, giving Maxon a sidelong glance as she heard him chuckle softly.

With no choice but to winnow to the palace where her mother awaited her, Karina began to pray to the Mother, the Cauldron, and any lesser God who was willing to listen to her that she hadn't made a grave mistake.

៚ ·

"I don't know if you know this, mother, but a surprise welcoming party should have more people, and alcohol, lots of alcohol."

Her powerful mother sat on her terrifying throne, which allowed the female to look down on everyone in the room.

Karina's heart stumbled against her chest as she realised that it would only be her and the queen, her sister was nowhere to be seen, and Karina could only assume that she had not yet arrived from her own trip.

"Does nothing useful ever come out of your mouth, Karina?"

Ouch.

Karina tried to laugh it off, but her laugh came out more as a nervous grimace as she approached the throne to bow while putting two fingers to her forehead to salute the queen.

"I hope your information is better than your jokes, that's for sure," when she was upright, Karina didn't even look her mother in the face.

When her mother was up there on that throne, Karina felt more intimidated than ever.

“Since you asked for it so nicely…” Karina let out a long breath, and damped her lips a little before speaking again.

She told her mother what Rhysand and Feyre had said, done and acted when she told them the terms and conditions of the peace agreement. Her mother had laughed maliciously, twisting her stomach at the horrific sound. Then Karina had told her how they would not give in, and at last, with her heart pounding so hard in her chest she felt as if it was about to explode, she told her mother the offer she had given the Night Court regents, and why she had done it.

A silence so horrible extended that even her rapid heartbeats could be heard. Karina swallowed hard ones, then twice, and then couldn’t help but to advert her eyes a split second towards her mother.

Big mistake.

The queen’s eyes had turned so dark they seemed black, were piercing through her like a thousand knifes, leaving cuts of poison on her skin.

Her heart was now a total wreck of anxiety and panic. Maybe she had made a mistake, maybe she hadn’t thought things through. She should’ve just stick to the plan, should’ve just do what she was told to do.

Karina drew in a long breath, trying to calm the ache in her chest that wasn’t letting her breath properly, then again, even as she tried to stop herself, her eyes went up to find her mother’s.

The female, the only person in the world that Karina was terrified of to the bones, the one person that could make all her big act fall into a tiny crumble of nothing, was smiling.

Smiling. At her.

It wasn’t a motherly smile, those smiles died when her father did. It was a cruel, twisted, evil smile. A smile of a queen that was about to make a conquest, a smile of a queen that was about to destroy and take everything she had always wanted with blood.

“Good.”

៚ ·

Karina sat on her vanity, staring at her reflection in the mirror with a lump on her throat, and already running late.

Rashana had finally arrived, the day where Anthra celebrated the defeat of the god who had caused so much destruction, death, poverty and misfortune, defeated by the first Basdearg queen, who died not long after for the damage the god had left on her.

The story was beautiful, her favourite celebration of the year, and now she regretted that she had turned this beautiful celebration into a political play for her mother.

She grabbed the beautiful red flower on her vanity and placed it as a final touch in her hair before getting up and taking one last look in the mirror.

The white dress fell to her collarbones, exposing her shoulders; the sleeves fell and flared out to create a beautiful cascade. The fabric tightened around her torso, hugging her waist, at the centre of her breasts the fabric was joined by a silver medallion, and the skirt fell to the floor in layers of pure white. The Adonis in her hair gave colour to her attire, combining intense blood red with pure white. It was tradition to wear white to the Rashana, as it symbolizing the peace that Ragna Basdearg brought to Anthra and the purity she had to lose in the process. And a red Adonis, Anthra’s symbolic flower that represented the passionate love Ragna had felt for the God she then had to kill, and the blood that cursed her to die.

With a final sigh, she left her room, outside, her guards were waiting for her, Nasir, her oldest guard, smiled at the sight of her, and Karina winked at him before she began to walk.

When the doors to the hall opened for her, Karina held her breath as every face present turned her way, a sea of white parted for the Princess.

People from all over the Continent stopped whatever they were doing as her name was announced to the crowd. Karina put on her most flirtatious smile as she walked to the back of the room, where her mother and sister were waiting for her.

The queen looked evidently displeased by her tardiness, while the heiress smiled.

Karina wanted to run up and give her sister a hug, Arisa had only returned to Anthra today, and they hadn't had a chance to talk, or even see each other, until now. But she kept her display of emotions in line, smiling and winking at the guests who stopped to put two fingers to their foreheads to greet her, and when she finally reached the two females of her family, she curtsied, putting two fingers to her forehead to her mother, and hugged her sister as tightly as she could.

"You have to tell me everything," she whispered so that only Arisa could hear.

"As do you."

The beginning of the evening grew dull as she greeted and welcomed the guests, all dressed in white with a red flower as tradition demanded, but once she began to complain and complain, and use the only weapon she had against her mother; her unique way of driving her progenitor mad and making her fed up, the queen allowed her to leave if only to stop listening to her voice.

Karina went directly in search of Maxon, and since he had been watching her, it was not at all difficult to find him.

"You look beautiful," was the first thing the soldier said to her when they were face to face.

"Thanks, I’m still standing in dozens of caffeine and roughly 4 hours of sleep," Maxon laughed, and they both slipped away to the most hidden place they could find.

Karina was due to give a show in an hour, so if she got lost, her mother was going to kill her in front of all the guests.

“Have they arrived yet?” Karina asked, a little knot in her chest at the response.

“Who? The pretentious pricks from Prythian? No.”

Karina laughed slightly, Maxon, just like his father, did not like Prythian at all. Something about the male being betrayed by the High Lords during the War 500 years ago or something like that. Karina had never really cared of what the drunken asshole had to say.

Just as she opened her mouth to say something else, the doors of the Great Hall opened, making everyone inside go silent and observe the newcomers.

First, came in a figure so tall he towered the majority of the guests. His great, bat-like wings making him look even bigger, his rough exterior looked somewhat funny tucked in the white suit, like maybe it was a little bit too tight, too bright for him. Behind the tough looking Illyrian warrior, came another winged male, his body less big but muscled as well, wrapped in shadows that seemed to dim the light in the room when he entered.

Karina smiled like a cat when Azriel’s eyes landed on her, making him quickly look away with an annoyed, almost undetectable clench of his jaw. And she wondered just how much it had costed Rhys to make Azriel wear anything but black. But on the contrary, wearing all white.

Behind the two brutes, came the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court of Prythian, looking like a pair of gods; deadly beautiful and ethereal in their white attires. At last came Mor, looking as perfect as always, alongside a sharp looking Nesta Archeron.

Karina turned to look at her mother, a knot of dread on her stomach she had to swallow when the queen’s face communicated her two things: one, she was annoyed that Feyre and Rhys, specially Feyre, with that dress that seemed to be made of snow and stars, stole all the attention. And then it also, with that sly, cruel smile, told Karina that her mother couldn’t wait for the moment to make Rhysand bent to his knees.

“You did what you had to do,” Maxon said beside her, surely having read the expression on her face.

Karina took a deep breath, steadying her heart and putting herself together, looking at the Shadowsinger’s eyes that found hers from across the room, his shadows swirled around him in an obscure, suspicious way, so Karina sent out her own power, light putting a wall between shadows.

“Did I, now.”

៚ ·

The evening slipped away drinks, dancing and laughter. Karina left her worries and guilt in the bottle of Kajra that she and Maxon managed to monopolize for themselves.

The delicious liquor coming from the Black Land was to enjoy every drop, and so strong that only those who were used to it could hold more than two glasses, like Karina, who already had four, and not like Cassian, who, despite Karina's warnings, went for a third glass, and now his mate was helping him to empty the contents of his stomach.

Half an hour before midnight, her mother rose from the throne on which she had been sitting all night, and the whole room fell silent. Karina staggered slightly, held upright only by the hand Maxon placed on her lower back. Her cheeks warmed at the contact and she felt a shiver run through her body, those extra drinks were already tasting like stupid decisions, especially with Maxon so close to her.

She forced herself to keep her composure, to look at her mother and swallow the urges and desires that the contact with Maxon was provoking. She took a deep breath, feeling the liquor in her veins altering her senses.

"Welcome all to Rashana," her mother began, the queen's impetuous voice sweetened with venom. "What joy it gives me to see so many familiar faces, and so many guests who have travelled so far to visit us today for this beautiful celebration," to this, Karina did not miss how her mother pointed to Rhysand with her glass, and smiled sideways.

To many, that smile might mean true grace, to her, however, it meant cruelty.

Her stomach tied itself in knots again, and the nausea, combined with the alcohol, intensified in her throat.

"So drink, dance, and enjoy, in the name of my ancestor, Ragna Basdearg, who went against her heart to free her people, in her name, today we remember the dangers of love, and the duty that with blood we sometimes have to seal," again, her eyes stopped on those of the High Lord of the Night, this time, Rhysand felt the tension, and his back straightened in an almost imperceptible movement. That knot in Karina's stomach clenched tighter.

"I need to get some air," Karina whispered, and without waiting for a response from Maxon, she staggered out onto the balcony.

When the night air hit her, the effects of the Kajra knocked her off balance, making her have to grip the stone railing tightly to keep from falling.

"Fucking hell..." she cursed under her breath, sighing as she clutched her head.

"I was wondering when your show would fall," the dark voice that sounded from behind her back sent a shiver down her spine.

Turning around, Karina found herself face to face with Azriel's shadow-shrouded face.

"What are you talking about?" Her voice trembled slightly, alcohol or guilt, she didn't know which.

"I've always known you're a lying snake, Karina, after all, you are a Basdearg," the male didn't mind her question, instead he approached with the dangerous slowness of a predator towards her.

Karina gripped the railing even tighter behind her, her knuckles turning white. "Be very careful, Shadowsinger, you're in my kingdom, in the castle of the Basdearg, you don't want to lose your head by talking about the royal family like that, do you?"

"I don't know what you or your mother are planning, Karina, but you'd better stop it now," Azriel's voice exuded danger, a death warning, if Karina wasn't dulled by alcohol, she might have answered something rhetorically irritating to make him angrier.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Azriel, but if you don't back off now, I'm going to puke all over you," she wished it was a joke, but from the way her stomach was twisting, everything pointed to it not being one.

"Don't play games with me, Karina."

"Oh, believe me, I'm not,” she said grabbing her churning stomach.

Karina gasped as Azriel's shadows came to envelop her, her senses too clouded by the alcohol to reach her own power in time to deflect.

"I'm not going to let you-" but Azriel's words suddenly stopped, his eyes almost shot out of their pockets in pure astonishment.

Fear, confusion, disbelief, too many emotions crossed the face that had once been colored, now pale. As if he was staring at a ghost’s face, a spectre sucking the life out of him.

Karina thought for a moment that her power had gone out of control for her being drunk, and perhaps she was overriding the darkness of his shadows with her light somehow, but that was not the case, she looked down at her hands to make find that they weren’t glowing, they were just shaking.

"What is wrong with-” but just as she was about to get out of Azriel’s shadow’s grasp, the same astonishment cracked in her as well.

What the fuck…

It was as if the air stoped giving her oxygen, something cracked inside of her, so primal and old that it almost made her fall to her knees.

Her heart leaped on her chest, her breath caught on her throat, her skin so hot it was burning up.

Oh. My. Fucking. Mother.

“Oh, fuck no,” she breathed out in an incredulous and terrified whisper.

“Fuck no,” Azriel took several steps back away from her, having to pull his shadows with him for them to stop touching her.

The sudden absence of the touch made the cold air hit her abruptly, a shiver ran down her spine, and the nausea that had been bad before, now took completely over her.

Now she was going to puke. And she did.

She turned around and emptied everything off her stomach. Dread mortifying her until she was coughing for air.

“Azriel, is everything ok? Oh fuck…” That was Rhysand’s voice that came over, Karina was still bent over, trying to catch her breath, but she could smell the shock coming from Rhys.

Damn that fucking daementi power.

No. No, no, no, no. This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t…

“Karina, I’ve been looking for you, what…what’s going on?” Now it was her sister’s voice that joined the disastrous scene.

Karina stood up in a rush, wanting nothing more than to run out of that balcony and lock herself in her room until Azriel left her kingdom entirely, but the male got in her way when she was just trying to do so.

“Get away from me right now!” She screamed, putting her hands between them.

“As if I wanted to be anywhere near you,” he said so looking as disgusted as she was feeling right now.

“Karina, calm-” Rhys tried to approach her, but she stumble on her feet trying to get away from the High Lord too.

“Oh my fucking Cauldron, I’m going to be sick again.”

“This is…this can’t be right…” Azriel breathed out, the deception in his face so clear Karina almost flinched, were she not feeling the exact same way.

“Well, it seems like it fucking is!” Her heart was racing so fast she feared it would start malfunctioning soon.

Karina started praying to the Mother and the Cauldron, praying for this to be a stupid mistake caused by the alcohol, she closed her eyes tightly, wishing it was just a bad dream, but when she opened them again, when she looked at Azriel’s disrupted gaze and felt it, she knew it was not a dream, it was her awful, undeniable reality.

Then, as if things couldn’t get any worst, as if the Cauldron hadn’t already been cruel enough, a fourth voice entered the scene like a final blow to the gut.

“May someone explain to me why you’re acting like a bunch of children? I could hear you from inside making a scandal.”

Karina paled, her heart stopping every beating at all, her hands so sweaty and shaky she had to make them fists, and all her senses screaming at her to throw herself from the balcony if only to end with all this.

The female at the other end raised a thick black eyebrow at her, her cold honey amber eyes, the same Karina had inherited, looked her way, pinning her over in a way that froze every bone in her body. Her gaze then fell to Azriel, and Karina started asking for a lighting to struck her in that moment. Praying for one when she saw the subtle way in which the female’s nose flared at a new, strange sent. When she connected Rhysand’s expression with that of Karina and Azriel, and saw the dispare of the Princess’ face.

“Mother…” she breathed out, her mouth so dried it hurt to talk.

The queen arched her eyebrow further, a cruel, petrifying smile curving her blood-red lips at the final understanding of what had gone down. Then she spoke in a velvety, poisonous voice;

“Oh.”

[inkformyblood]

a picture is worth a thousand words (CWFKB #20)

drunken kiss for @codywanfirstkissbingo modern au, previous night of drinking

Obi-Wan shudders awake on a groan, half-opening an eye and regretting it at the same moment. There’s light somewhere to his left, a dull hazy red that spills over the wall opposite him, and he presses his face back into the cushion imprinted onto his skin. He hopes it is a nice enough pattern and that is the extent he is able to care about it at that moment. He shifts slightly, shoving his hand beneath his hip to pull out his phone. Opening his eye again, he flinches away from the bright glare of his screen, swiping at the controls to try and lower it. 

Second attempt goes easier, the pounding in his head lessening a scant amount and he’s able to make out the time (being far too early for this), his string of notifications (mostly responses in various group chats and nothing that raises an alarm), and an update from his back account (far too early for that). This is not his apartment. He doesn’t have curtains, yet another thing that fell too far down his to-do list for him to have bothered with, and they’re surprisingly nice to have. He’ll have to get round to it. Tomorrow. Later. 

He needs to piss. 

That means moving. 

Obi-Wan levers himself upright like he is trying to move the universe, shoving his hands beneath his face and pushing sideways more than upright. He hits the floor hard, feeling the impact a moment later, and he bites his tongue until he tastes copper beneath the bile twisting through his stomach. Looking around, Obi-Wan’s gaze skims over the empty sitting room, the pull-out couch he had just fallen from and the complementary armchair. There is a bookcase along one wall andObi-Wan twitches through an itch of curiosity at the base of his skull, the desire to drag his fingertips along the spines and try to work out something of the person who’s home he has invaded. But first, he needs to find a bathroom. One door is through the attached kitchen, another piece of the constructed puzzle slotting into place at the sight of matching appliances, so Obi-Wan ignores it, turning his attention to the other doors that stand through the wide archway. He rises onto his toes as he steps onto the wood floor, a chill rattling up his spine and feeling like it will knock his teeth loose, and begins to search. The first door is a study, but the second reveals a bathroom and Obi-Wan steps inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. 

He flicks through his phone through half-lidded eyes, ignoring the pulse of group chats recovering from the previous night, and going for his photos instead. Most are useless, blurry snaps of lights and people that Obi-Wan has worked alongside for years and yet he couldn’t pick out their features now, but it is the most recent set that makes Obi-Wan wake up in an instant. 

Cody Fett. He is kissing Cody Fett in full blue and pink and green club light lit focus. And he can’t remember it. 

Not a single kiss out of the several he’s photographed. 

Obi-Wan steadies himself, resting the phone on the side of the sink as he washes his hands, moving through the motions as he returns to the sitting room. He sinks back onto the sofa bed, wriggling to try and get himself comfortable before he dives back into his camera roll. Water thunders through the pipes and he straightens, feeling like he has been dragged in front of the principal’s office, waiting to be told what he has done wrong. He has woken up in other people’s beds before, made several questionable decisions on unofficial work night’s out and a handful on the official work night’s out, but this feels different. There is a weight to this decision because he actually likes Cody. 

Obi-Wan thinks he loves him. 

One photo of drinks, enough to turn Obi-Wan’s stomach even now, then a picture of himself and Cody together. Obi-Wan studies his own face, the grin that distorts the freckle beneath his eye, his cheeks clinging to the remnants of glitter, before he turns his gaze to Cody. Cody looks beautiful, always does, and his eyeliner gleams in the light cutting across their faces on the photograph. His grin is wide, easy to love, and he leans towards Obi-Wan in the photo, his head inclined so there’s barely any visible space between them. There’s some time between that photo and the next one and Obi-Wan’s memory stretches blank and all encompassing. They must have discussed something during that missing blank space, something that had led to the next photo. Obi-Wan flicks to the next photo. It is slightly blurry, his hand must have moved while he was taking it, but he is kissing Cody. 

“Oh, good. You’re still here.”

Obi-Wan starts, his phone dropping from numb fingers to somewhere amongst the nest of blankets. Cody waves at him, leaning against the doorframe. His chest is bare, a splash of a dark tattoo over one shoulder and curling over his chest, and his patterned trousers sit low on his hips. His socks are mismatched and Obi-Wan hadn’t thought it was possible to love him anymore before that moment. 

“I can leave if you’d like me to?”

“No.” Cody steps forward, clasping his hands in front of him. He worries the heavy ring he wears on his thumb, chewing his cheek before he continues. “How much do you remember of last night?”

Obi-Wan smiles through the wash of fear that floods through him, feels it draw his smile tight and artificial. “If I made you uncomfortable, I apologise. I never wished to—”

“I’d like to kiss you again,” Cody blurts out. His hands still on his ring and he takes another step forward. His legs press against the edge of the sofa bed. “Properly this time so we can both remember it properly.”

Obi-Wan holds out his hand and pulls Cody down onto the bed with him. They would both remember that morning well enough to make up for the night before. 

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

The Middle of Nowhere (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 1. Drugging, 5. Kidnapping, 17. Hypothermia, 20. Dehumanization Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, dark!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, dark!Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Reader (no relationships) Summary: You wake up to find that you have been drugged, tied up, and taken to the middle of the woods on a cold, snowy night. The two men grinning down at you scream trouble but you are about to discover it is worse than you could have possibly imagined... Word Count: 5523 TW: Drugging, Kidnapping, Tied Up, Frostbite, Forced Undressing, Language, Mentions of Murder and Mutilation, Hunted for Sport, Getting Off on Thoughts of Violence/Death, Bradley is Taller than Reader, Reader's POV Notes: I am EXTREMELY proud and excited about this series and hope you enjoy! Huge thank you to @loverhymeswith and @green-socks for all of your help!💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Series Masterlist

Something cold and wet lands gently on your cheek. Though very light, it’s enough to rouse you from your sleep. As you shift, trying to find a more comfortable position to lie in, your head pounds painfully in time with every beat of your heart and you moan softly. You must have had a few (or more) shots before leaving work last night because you can’t remember getting home…or how you got home…or even closing down the bar. How much did you have to drink?

It’s cold—much colder than it should be—and you vaguely wonder if your heater crapped out again. The last time that happened, it took your landlord almost a week to fix it so you really hope that isn’t the case. You try to reach for your blanket, wanting to just curl up in a warm cocoon to sleep off this headache, but your arms seem stuck or tangled together somehow. Could you have fallen asleep in the middle of taking off your shirt again? It has only happened twice but both times were when you were blackout drunk so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities…

Reluctantly, you force your eyes open so you can figure out what stupidity you have gotten yourself into this time–only to freeze as your vision comes into focus. 

You had expected to see your bedroom ceiling or even possibly the ceiling of the bar’s break room above you, but instead, you open your eyes to see a man leering down at you, his face twisted into a sort of predatory grin. 

Though the gleam in his eye is giving you the creeps, you try to remain calm even as your heart begins pounding in your chest. There could be a thousand perfectly innocent reasons this man is here looming over you like this and it’s best to not jump to conclusions until you know what’s going on. Besides, there is something vaguely familiar about this burly brunet. You know you have seen him somewhere before, though your groggy mind can’t quite place him. However, as soon as a second man (this one blond) steps into view, it all comes rushing back—these two had been at the bar earlier.

You hadn’t interacted with the first man very much, just took his order, poured him his drink, and topped it off once or twice when he got low. However, it hadn’t escaped your attention that he never took his eyes off of you the entire time you chatted with his buddy. And while the brunet had kept his distance, this blond had bent over backward trying to capture every ounce of your attention all night long. You had been bartending long enough to know exactly what kind of guy he was and what he was angling for, but you had to admit, those mesmerizing green eyes and the way that cocky smile curled around the toothpick he was chewing on all night did make you a little weak in the knees.

However, all of that quickly flies from your mind as your eyes settle on the large hunting knife the blond is currently spinning in his hands as he licks his lips, grinning at you. 

Something is wrong. Very wrong. Get out now! A wave of terror clears the remaining fog in your mind as all of your instincts scream at you to flee. But as you try to scramble up off your back, you finally notice the thick rope wrapped around your wrists and another around your ankles. And to make matters worse, you seem to be lying in a small metal box of some sort. Your body has been crammed and twisted at a weird angle in order to fit, and the way it resembles a coffin makes a fresh chill run up your spine. 

As you release a shuddering gasp, you realize that though restrained, your mouth has been left uncovered. Instantly, you begin screaming as loud as you can, alternating between “help” and just a wordless high-pitched shriek as you thrash around within the box. Pain shoots through you as your knees collide with the sides of the box and you hit one of your funny bones, but you ignore it and just keep screaming. 

After a moment, you catch sight of your kidnappers’ faces and your heart sinks. They are expecting this. And what’s worse, based on their sadistic smirks, they are enjoying this. Which means they’re not concerned about anyone hearing you, no matter how much noise you make.

Though terrified by this realization, you force yourself to fall silent and lie still, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of watching you continue to beg for help. 

Seemingly satisfied you are done with your freak-out, the brunet pulls himself up the side of the box until he looms over you, his broad frame filling your entire field of vision. His gaze travels down your prone form, lingering on your ass, breasts, and lips before he finally locks eyes with you. His lips curl into a sickening grin as he says, “Well, hello there, sweetheart. Ready to have some fun?”

Without waiting for an answer, he looks at the blond and jerks his head in your direction. Suddenly, everything around you begins to shake as you hear a metallic thud followed by the loud thumping of boots, and the blond appears towering next to you. He gives you a wink and a small click of his tongue before his hands slide under your shoulders and he lifts you up. As he does so, the brunet grabs your feet and you are roughly hauled out of the container.

As they lift you out, whatever insolation or protection the box had been providing you disappears and you are hit with the full chill of the late winter’s night air, causing you to instantly start shivering. For the first time, in the light of the electric lanterns the men had placed around the area, you get a good look at yourself and realize that while the men are dressed in heavy jackets layered over the flannel shirts they had on at the bar, you have been stripped down to your underwear and the thin tank top you were wearing that night under your uniform. At least you had opted for your boyshorts tonight instead of your thong, but you still shiver once more—and this time, it has nothing to do with the cold.

There is no telling what these men did to you while you were unconscious. Obviously, you must have been manhandled to some degree if they undressed you, tied you up, and stuffed you into a box, but was that as far as they went? Or did they have a different kind of fun with you while you had no way of fighting back or saying no? Tears sting the corners of your eyes as a hundred different scenarios play out in your head, and you hope it just appears like your eyes are watering from the cold. You would hate for these two to think they have broken you already.

As they stand you up on the snow-covered ground, your bare feet sink in the soft powder almost up to the top of your ankles. You gasp as you try to bounce from one foot to the other in an attempt to provide your poor feet any relief from the cold, but the rope around your ankles causes you to almost topple over. The only thing that keeps you from crashing into the snow is the brunet who reaches out to steady you. Silently, he bends down and unties the rope, though once he’s done, he walks away without touching the one still wrapped around your wrists. 

Now able to bounce more steadily as you try to keep your feet from going completely numb, you begin to take in your surroundings. Glancing over your shoulder, you see a big, black, lifted pickup truck with an open metal toolbox in the bed—which explains why you were so cramped in the box. Looking past the truck, all you can see is rows and rows of trees. They seem to go on forever until disappearing into the void of darkness just beyond the glow from the lanterns. No wonder these men hadn’t worried about your screaming. There are enough woods outside of town that you could currently be ten or fifteen miles from anyone who could help you.

There’s no one but you and the two men who brought you here.

You don’t know what their plan for you is, but you decide the best course of action is to just be as agreeable as possible until the situation changes. So, forcing yourself to give them a lighthearted chuckle even as another shiver shakes your scantily clad body, you try to make your voice as positive as you can. “Hey guys, I don’t know what’s going on here, but if this is your idea of a joke, I don’t find it very funny. So why don’t you just untie me and we can all head back to town.”

“Oh, this is no joke—it’s a game. And you are the missing piece we were looking for,” the brunet says and your forced smile slowly fades. “What do you remember about tonight?”

Still willing to go along with them for now, you close your eyes and try to search through the cloud of fog and fear that is filling your mind. “I…I went to work like usual. Then you two came in an hour or two into my shift.” You nod at the brunet. “You were drinking whiskey, neat.” You nod towards the blond. “And you were having old fashioneds. You sat at the bar for a few hours talking to me in between customers. Yo-you mentioned you were waiting for a couple of friends to make it to town, but they never showed up. Then…” Your memories get fuzzier the later in the night you try to remember. “Then, you left after I announced last calls. You said…you said you’d be seeing me around…”

The two men exchange excited glances as the brunet nods. “You remember more than most….good. It’s more fun when they remember.”

The blond takes a few steps closer to you and reaches out to slowly drag his finger across your lips. “I wonder if you also remember the taste of my tongue in your mouth.”

You flinch away from his touch, diverting your eyes as you feel your stomach threatening to heave. Yes, you remember that too. Against all of your self-made rules and instincts, you had allowed yourself to be charmed by one of your soon-to-be-kidnappers towards the end of the night. 

He had bet you a kiss that he could hit the bulls-eye on the dartboard without looking and you had taken him up on his offer, never imagining he could actually do it. But when he threw the dart behind him, his eyes locked firmly with yours as he did so, and it hit the dead center of the board, he had taken his prize. More than that, you had allowed him to get to second base while he shoved his tongue down your throat. In the moment, you enjoyed it—a lot. In fact, you had even considered asking him to meet you out back once you closed down, but now even the slightest brush of his skin against yours makes you sick to your stomach.

As you cower into yourself, the blond’s grin grows even wider, his green eyes sparkling in the lantern light. “Fuck yeah, you do remember. I gotta admit, if you hadn’t downed that shot so quickly, I was going to try to postpone this whole thing once I got that taste of you. Fucking delicious. I can only imagine how sweet the rest of you must taste. Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to find out later tonight.”

The feeling of nausea rolling in your stomach intensifies and you can feel the bile burning the back of your throat. Swallowing it back down, you choke out, “The shot? What shot?”

“The other part of our bet. Remember?”

Thinking long and hard, you try to recall what else you had agreed to in your bet. When it suddenly comes to you, you gasp, “I agreed to one drink. You put something in it!”

“You made it so easy,” the brunet says, practically purring with delight. “Usually, I have to really struggle to find just the right moment to slip our little concoction in when the target isn’t looking, but you were so preoccupied with your makeout session, I could have injected it straight into your veins and I doubt you would have noticed. And you made it easier still by choosing Fireball. The flavor covers all traces of the drugs unlike vodka shots so I’m not surprised you didn’t have any clue what had happened. That is the point, after all.”

“To get me out here to play your game?” Both men nod. “What kind of game?”

“The rules are simple,” the brunet explains, the electric lights casting sinister shadows across his face as he stalks closer. “You run, we chase. If you make it out of the woods or stumble across anyone else to help you, you win and we disappear into the night, never to bother you again. But if one of us hunts you down before you escape, that person wins the game and their prize is the right to do whatever they want to you as long as they finish the job before sunrise.”

Their prize is the right to do whatever they want to you as long as they finish the job…. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” you spit, all attempts at fake pleasantness abandoned as you are hit by the reality of how epically fucked up this situation truly is. Both men seem slightly taken aback by your drastic shift in tone and you straighten up to your full height as you continue. “I am not a fucking toy for you to play with o-or a prize to be won. One of you will win the right to do whatever they want to me? I don’t give you that right and I’m the only one who has a say in that. You can’t do this!”

“I hate to break it to you, but we can and we have and we will again. This is our game, and we’ve never lost.” The brunet stalks forward until his chest is just a few inches from yours and he sneers down at you. “Do you really think we haven’t heard all this before? Please. We’ve been playing this game once a month for over a decade. ‘Oh, please let me go. I have kids who need me.’ ‘I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me!’ ‘If you let me go right now, I promise I won’t tell a soul what happened. No police, I swear.” His voice switches between various high-pitched mocking tones as he imitates their past victims and your heart aches for the hundred or so women who found themselves in this same situation over the years. 

Returning to his normal voice, the brunet leans over until you are enveloped by the visible cloud of his breath in the cold air. “No. The moment we chose you, your life was over. You belong to us now and we are the only ones who have a say in what happens to you now. And tonight…tonight we say you are a fox and we are the hounds who intend to chase you down and rip out that beautiful throat of yours. You are the prey and we are the predators; the hunted and the hunters. And the sooner you accept that the better this will be for all of us. Do you understand?”

You understand. You are about to die out here in the darkness of the trees, hunted down like an animal and subjected to God-only-knows-what horrors before you are finally murdered in cold blood. And while they are pretending to give you a way out, you have lost all feeling in your feet long ago, you can barely bend your fingers in the cold, and you are shivering so much you can barely see straight. In other words, you don’t stand a chance.

The brunet continues to look at you for an answer so you slowly nod your head. Satisfied, he straightens up and walks back over to the blond. 

But before either of them can say anything, you ask, “Why me?”

The brunet turns around. “What?”

“Why did you pick me?”

“Why not?” the blond grins. 

The brunet chuckles softly and shakes his head at his friend. However, he then decides to give you a real answer. “Well, first of all, you’re gorgeous which doesn’t necessarily affect the game but it’s a little of an added incentive to win the prize. Second of all, watching you dart around behind that bar all night, lifting boxes of alcohol, and holding your own against a few unruly customers made us think that you could hold your own out here, at least for a while, which makes things more interesting. And third of all, we could tell you have some fire in you. We like fire. That means you won’t just roll over and give up.”

“Yeah, we do not want a repeat of Des Moines,” the blond groans. “That chick just curled up in a ball crying and wouldn’t even leave the clearing. We finally had to just put her down. It ruined the whole trip.”

“But she’s not going to do that, are you, little fox?” the brunet purrs at you. “No, you’re gonna be one of our fighters. Like our girl outside of Austin. Oh…she was a wiley one.” He traces one finger over the scars littering his face and neck that were partially covered by his scruff. “Fought like a hellcat until the very end, scratching and biting and making sure to leave her mark. But I made her pay for each and every one of these. Just something for you to keep in mind once we start.”

“Oh, damn, I forgot about that.” The blond lets out an impressed whistle. “When I found you two, I didn’t even realize it was at first. I thought you had killed a coyote or a deer or something. And even once I knew, I could barely tell that mess used to be human. You were riding that high for weeks.” 

The two men begin talking over each other bringing up their favorite hunts in the past, each one more horrible than the last. Each story you hear adds a new fear of what might happen to you before the end of the night. However, it also adds fuel to the anger building in your belly. How these two men had been getting away with this for so long, after doing this to so many women, was incomprehensible. Surely someone must have noticed over a hundred women disappearing over the past decade and started to investigate. These two didn’t seem like criminal masterminds by any means, so how had they managed to avoid detection for so long?

As you continue to watch them go back and forth with tales of past hunts, you shake your head and softly murmur under your breath, “Who the hell are you two?”

The two men stop reminiscing and turn to face you. You hadn’t meant for them to hear your question, but apparently they had.

“Have we not introduced ourselves? Aw, where are our manners?” the brunet asks, taking a step closer to you. “You can call me ‘Rooster’ and that Casanova over there—” he jerks his head towards the blond “—is ‘Hangman’.”

“Rooster and Hangm– What the fuck kinds of names are those?” 

“Well, you see, our boy here—” Hangman comes over to wrap his arm around Rooster’s shoulder and slaps him on the chest “—he’s a crooner. Loves to crow when he catches his prey so everyone knows he won. He’s a bit of a showoff. And me…let’s just say my name’s a bit more self-explanatory.” 

With the hand not draped across Rooster’s shoulders, he shifts his arm so his jacket pulls back to reveal a length of rope ending in a noose tucked into his belt. “As much as I love a little foreplay with my knives, it can’t compare to watching someone gasping and struggling for air as they flail wildly three feet off the ground. Then seeing that moment when everything goes still and the light softly dims in their eyes?” He shivers with a small “whoo” of delight. “There’s nothing like it in the world. It’s even better than sex.”

Just when you think these two can’t get any worse, they somehow manage to top themselves. Your voice dripping with disgust, you ask, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Hangman shrugs. “Because we are killing time until we can start the game and then, in an hour or two, it won’t matter that you know. Plus, it’s nice actually getting to share our accomplishments with someone else for once. That’s the worst downside to having an illegal hobby. You can’t tell anyone about it besides the few people who were there when it happened.”

Suddenly, Hangman’s pocket lights up and the muffled sounds of “Slow Ride” fill the air. Rooster glares at the sheepish blond as he pulls his phone out and glances at the screen. But any contrition he seems to have quickly evaporates and he answers the call as a wide grin splits across his face. 

“Hey, you almost here? We’ve got a real spitfire this time. It’s gonna be one hell of a competition.” Hangman listens for a moment then his face falls. “Damn. Yeah, no, I understand.” Glancing up at Rooster, he mouths ‘not gonna make it’ before turning his focus back to the phone.

With a heavy sigh, Rooster looks down at you. “Sorry, little fox. We weren’t lying before. We were supposed to be meeting some friends who wanted to play too. But it looks like it’ll just be the three of us after all.” 

That predatory gleam you had seen on his face when you first woke up returns as he leans in until his lips are practically brushing against the curve of your ear. In a soft whisper, he says, “But it wouldn’t have mattered. You’re mine, baby girl. I’ve known from the second I laid eyes on you in that bar that I had to have you. Hangman might get to you first and slice you up a little bit, but at the end of the night, it’s going to be me with my hands around your throat as the light leaves your eyes and you take your final, desperate gasp of air.” He leans back with a moan as his eyes flutter closed and his tongue runs across his lips. “Fuck…I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

You have never felt such deep, burning feelings of disgust or anger like you feel towards Rooster. But using that fire coursing through your veins to give you strength, you clasp your bound hands together and drive them into the side of Rooster’s head. Because his eyes are still closed as he revels in the idea of your murder, he never sees it coming. 

Your fists slam into his face and you feel the crunch of his nose behind your force. Both of you topple sideways to the ground but you instantly try to scramble to your feet before he comes to his senses. However, you struggle to use your tied hands to push yourself to your feet in the soft snow and just as you are starting to figure out how to stand, Rooster’s elbow drives into your right temple.

Collapsing like a ton of bricks, the soft snow cushions your fall. Darkness begins closing in until there is just a single circle of light swimming in the center of your vision. Waves and waves of pain are radiating throughout your body and a low moan flows from your lips. 

In that small dot of light, you see a blurry Rooster come into view. There is blood flowing from his nose and a hungry rage burning in his eyes. Leaning in close, he spits, “Be glad the game hasn’t started yet. Otherwise, I would be cutting off each of your fingers one by one before shoving them down your throat. But don’t think I’ll forget this once the hunt has begun.” 

Ignoring his threats, you press your aching temple deeper into the snow, using the cold powder as a sort of ice pack to ease the pain a little. It is the first time all night you are thankful for the freezing snow surrounding you. However, you can also feel it soaking into your tank top and underwear, and you know that being wet in this environment is just going to make things a hundred times worse. But seeing as there’s nothing you can do about it, you just try to focus on the slight relief the snow is providing your pounding head.

Distantly, you hear Hangman end his call and hesitantly approach where you lay. Rooster spits a wad of bloody saliva onto your cheek before rising and turning towards his friend. “What happened?”

“There was a big snowstorm just east of here and the roads are coated in ice. Even the truck can’t make it through for at least a few more hours. So it looks like it’ll just be us this time.”

“Just like the old days.”

“Just like the old days.” Hangman glances down at you. “Is there something I should know?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Rooster says as he wipes the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand. “She wanted to start the game early, but I made sure she’ll follow the rules from now on. Isn’t that right, little fox?” He nudges your side with the toe of his boot.

The pain throbbing in your head is still overwhelming despite the slight relief provided by the snow and your vision has yet to clear. However, you lift your head slightly and glare at the man towering over you. With all the viper you can muster, you hiss, “Fuck you.”

Rooster’s face splits into a cruel grin, made even more sinister by the blood still staining his face. “That’s my girl.” Then, turning to Hangman, he says, “Well, if they aren’t coming, I guess we can start. Get her up.”

Hangman walks over and hauls your limp body to a standing position. Though you are still unsteady on your feet, you manage to stay upright. Then to your surprise, Hangman pulls out one of his knives from earlier and cuts the rope binding your hands. Your arms ache from being held in the same position for so long and your wrists are rubbed raw from the rope burns, but it is still a relief to be free once more. You immediately shove your numb hands under your armpits in an attempt to get some feeling back to them, but you can already tell it won’t do much good. The rest of your body is too cold to provide much relief.

Grabbing your elbow, Hangman leads you over to where Rooster is standing next to a pile of supplies in the middle of the clearing. He positions you so you are standing facing Rooster and then he goes to stand next to his friend. 

Satisfied everything is set, Rooster says, “It’s time for the game to begin. You have a five-minute head start to get as far away from here as you can. Once your time is up, we start the hunt. The only rules are what I said before: If you find help or civilization before we catch you, then you go free. If one of us finds you before then, the game is over and the winner gets to claim his prize. And your time starts now.” He presses a button on his watch and you hear a soft beep. 

Five minutes. That’s potentially all the time you have left in this world. You know you should take off and try to put as much distance between yourself and this place as you can, but if these are your last moments of life, you are going to give these two psychos a piece of your mind before you go.

“You two are so pathetic,” you snarl. “You see yourselves as these great hunters and killers but you’re shooting fish in a barrel and then boasting about your prize. You drug these girls, strip them down, send them off without a way of even trying to protect themselves, and then brag you are mighty warriors when your victims can’t even put up much of a fight. And the only reason you don’t give anyone a real chance is because you know you might actually lose.”

Hangman nervously glances at Rooster as he shifts uncomfortably. Your words have had their intended effect as doubt settles in on him. However, Rooster doesn’t seem the least bit phased. Instead, he smirks at you as his eyes narrow.

“Nice try, but we’re not falling for it. Now, get going while there’s still time on the clock. We want a challenging game but don’t think for one second we won’t kill you right here if you haven’t moved when the timer goes off. We’ve done it before.”

“At least give me my jacket or shoes or pants or something! I’m gonna get frostbite or hypothermia before either of you can catch me, and then where does that leave your game?”

“What did I just tell you? We’re. Not. Falling. For. It,” Rooster growls.

“I don’t know, maybe she’s right.” Rooster turns his glare to Hangman who shrinks back but continues speaking. “I mean, we’ve never done this in the snow or the cold so we might need to adjust slightly. Plus, her lips are already starting to turn blue and she’s shivering really hard. I don’t want this to turn into another environmental death like last time when the girl fell off the cliff or that time in Reno where the girl got bit by the rattlesnake. If she’s gonna die, one of us should get to be the one who does it, not the cold.”

Rooster sighs as he considers this, his hand scrubbing across the short scruff along his jaw. He turns back to stare at the truck for a long time before he finally nods. “Fine. She can have her jacket back. But that’s all.”

Relief floods through you at the thought of any kind of warmth, but your smile fades as Hangman jogs over to the truck and pulls your jacket out of the back seat. You had forgotten which one you wore to work today. 

While it did have the added benefit of being one of the warmer jackets you owned—a thick hooded jacket with fuzzy sherpa lining that falls to the top of your knees and has several pockets to warm your hands in—it was also a light burnt-orange color that will stand out like a beacon amongst both the pure white snow and darkness of the night. Rooster smirks at you and you have a feeling that he didn’t forget about the color. The olive branch he had extended was in fact covered in thorns.

Yet, as soon as Hangman tosses you the jacket, you quickly pull it on, zip it up, flip the hood up over your head, and jam your fists into your pockets. You are still completely bare from your knees down, but at least the coverage from the snow and the warmth you can already feel melting the chill in your upper half is a vast improvement. You just wish you had been given your boots back as well. Your feet have been completely numb from almost the minute they sunk into the deep snow, and the idea of trying to run miles and miles like this terrifies you. 

But what choice do you have?

Glancing at his watch, Rooster says, “You now have…three minutes forty-eight seconds. Time is ticking.”

There’s no point in wasting any more of the time you have left, so you pick a direction and start walking towards the wall of trees at the edge of the clearing. 

When you pass him, Hangman winks at you, runs his tongue over his lips, and whispers, “I’ll be seeing you real soon.” 

At this point, you aren’t really sure which man you are more frightened of tracking you down. But then your mind flashes back to the pure pleasure on Rooster’s face as he talked about watching the light leave your eyes, and you know who you would rather have find you.

As soon as you leave the clearing, you take off into the dark woods as fast as your frozen feet will allow.

Part 3 coming soon!

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Wednesday, May 31, 2023

Thousands evacuate from Nova Scotia wildfires (AP) Wildfires in Canada’s Atlantic coast province of Nova Scotia have caused thousands to evacuate. The Halifax Regional Municipality said late Monday that preliminary estimates indicate approximately 200 homes or structures have been damaged, based on initial visual inspections by first responders. Halifax deputy fire Chief David Meldrum said an estimated 14,000 people were told to flee their homes, most of which are about a 30-minute drive northwest of downtown Halifax.

Police agencies are desperate to hire. But they say few want the job. (Washington Post) The San Francisco Police Department is down more than 600 officers, almost 30 percent of its allotment. Phoenix needs about 500 more officers to be fully staffed. The D.C. police force is smaller than it has been in 50 years, despite troubling gun violence and carjackings, as officers leave faster than they can be replaced. Police departments across the country are struggling to fill their ranks, creating what many current and former officials say is a staffing emergency that threatens public safety. They cite an exodus of veteran officers amid new police accountability measures that followed the 2020 murder of George Floyd, increased hostility from the communities they police, and criminal justice laws that seek to reduce the number of people in jail. Advocates for police reform see the moment as an opportunity to hire a new generation of officers and reimagine policing. But as agencies seek fresh recruits, they are getting fewer qualified applicants than in past years—leading some to make the risky move of lowering the bar for hiring to fill their ranks.

Gun violence rages with at least 20 mass shootings recorded over Memorial Day Weekend (USA Today) Gun violence erupted across the U.S. over Memorial Day weekend: At least 20 mass shootings left 16 people dead and over 80 injured. The Gun Violence Archive, which tracks mass shootings, logged 20 incidents in which at least four people were injured or killed, not including shooters, from Friday afternoon through Monday night. The bloodshed started with a spree in Arizona, where a 20-year-old man was accused of killing four people and injuring one in five different shootings in the Phoenix area. Over the next three days, people were killed and injured in Virginia, Mississippi, New Mexico, Illinois and more. And Monday evening, as Memorial Day revelers in Hollywood Beach, Florida, celebrated the holiday, nine people were injured by gunfire along a boardwalk.

Drought-struck Barcelona quenches thirst with costly desalination (AP) Where once the population of Barcelona drank mostly from its rivers and wells, Spain’s second city now relies upon a labyrinth-like mesh of green, blue and purple pipes inside an industrial plant to keep it from going thirsty amid a prolonged drought. Water is pumped from two kilometers (1.2 miles) into the Mediterranean Sea to where the Llobregat desalination plant sits on an isolated stretch of beach. After journeying through several cleaning and filtering systems it reaches its final stop: the twisting and turning multi-colored channels that squeeze every drop of water free of its salt. Barely used after being built in 2009, Europe’s largest desalination plant for drinking water is running at full throttle to help the greater Barcelona area and some five million people adapt to the impact of climate change, which has contributed to the drying up of southern Europe’s fresh water reserves through heat waves and drought. In April 2021, before the drought, rivers provided 63% of Barcelona’s drinking water, wells provided 34% and desalination just 3%. Two years later desalination makes up 33% of Barcelona’s drinking water, while wells provide 23% and its shrinking rivers just 19%, according to Barcelona’s municipal water company.

Paranoid atmosphere (Washington Post) Parishioners have denounced Russian priests who advocated peace instead of victory in the war on Ukraine. Teachers lost their jobs after children tattled that they opposed the war. Neighbors who bore some trivial grudge for years have snitched on longtime foes. Workers rat on one another to their bosses or directly to the police or the FSB, the Federal Security Service. This is the hostile, paranoid atmosphere of Russians at war with Ukraine and with one another. As Russian President Vladimir Putin’s regime cracks down on critics of the war and other political dissenters, citizens are policing one another in an echo of the darkest years of Joseph Stalin’s repression, triggering investigations, criminal charges, prosecutions and dismissals from work. In March last year, Putin called on the nation to purge itself by spitting out traitors “like gnats.” Since the invasion began, at least 19,718 people have been arrested for their opposition to the war, according to legal rights group OVD-Info, with criminal cases launched against 584 people, and administrative cases mounted against 6,839. Many others faced intimidation or harassment from the authorities, lost jobs, or had relatives targeted, the organization said.

Russia says drones damage Moscow buildings in pre-dawn attack (AP) Russian air defenses stopped eight drones converging on Moscow, officials said Tuesday, in an attack that authorities blamed on Ukraine. The attack caused “insignificant damage” to several buildings, Moscow Mayor Sergei Sobyanin said. Two people received medical attention for unspecified injuries but did not need hospitalization, he said. The attacks have raised questions about the effectiveness of Russia’s air defense systems. A senior Russian lawmaker, Andrei Kartapolov, told Russian business news site RBC that “we have a very big country and there will always be a loophole where the drone can fly around the areas where air defense systems are located.���

30 international peacekeepers injured in fierce clashes with ethnic Serbs in northern Kosovo (AP) The NATO-led peacekeeping force in Kosovo, KFOR, on Tuesday raised the number of its troops injured in fierce clashes with ethnic Serbs to 30. The Serbs had tried to take over the offices of one of the municipalities in northern Kosovo where ethnic Albanian mayors took up their posts last week. A statement said that 11 Italian soldiers and 19 Hungarian ones “sustained multiple injuries, including fractures and burns from improvized explosive incendiary devices.” Serbian President Aleksandar Vucic spent the night with his troops on the border with Kosovo. They were placed on the highest state of alert on his orders last week. Vucic said 52 Serbs were injured in the clashes, three seriously. Kosovo and Serbia have been foes for decades, with Belgrade refusing to recognize Kosovo’s 2008 sovereignty.

Erdogan continues divisive rhetoric following victory (Washington Post) President Recep Tayyip Erdogan sang and smiled, reveling in the applause of the supporters he addressed Sunday after the toughest election of his long career. In victory, though, instead of soothing the nation, he lashed out at a familiar set of villains, in remarks that may set the tone for his next term. He was dismissive of his opponent, Kemal Kilicdaroglu. “Bye, bye to Mr. Kemal,” he said. And he ruled out any release for an imprisoned Kurdish political leader, calling him a “terrorist.” As the country moved on from the election, Erdogan would not easily abandon the bitter rhetoric, analysts said, setting Turkey on a divisive and turbulent course for the foreseeable future, even as Erdogan juggled a need to stabilize the economy as well as Turkey’s often stormy relations with allies in the West. In fact, “I think he is going to harden” his rhetoric, said Berk Esen, a professor of political science at Istanbul’s Sabanci University. “We are going to see him adopt a very polarizing discourse using ethno-religious themes” to maintain his “winning coalition” of voters. The value of the Turkish lira sunk to a record low on Tuesday, just days after Erdogan entrenched his authority into a third decade.

Chinese police clash with protesters over plans to demolish mosque (Washington Post) Residents of a majority-Muslim town in southwestern China clashed with police over the weekend as they tried to stop the demolition of a domed roof from a centuries-old mosque, part of the Chinese Communist Party’s expanding effort to control religion. The incident appeared to be related to a court judgment from 2020 that ruled some of the mosque’s most recent renovations were illegal, and ordered demolition. With a history that may stretch as far back as the 13th century, the Najiaying Mosque was expanded many times over the years to add buildings, as well as four minarets and a domed roof. In 2019, part of the structure was listed as a protected cultural relic. In recent years, however, Communist Party restrictions on the pious have escalated sharply. The country’s top leader, Xi Jinping, has demanded absolute political loyalty of faith communities and the “Sinicization” of religion. Surveillance of religious leaders has also intensified. A nationwide database of officially approved Islamic, Protestant and Catholic religious teachers was launched this month. The campaign has focused on Islam and Christianity because of the party’s deep-seated fear of faith being a vector for foreign influence.

North Korea says it will launch its first military spy satellite in June (AP) North Korea said Tuesday it would launch its first military spy satellite in June and described space-based reconnaissance as crucial for monitoring the United States’ “reckless” military exercises with South Korea. The statement came a day after North Korea notified Japan’s coast guard that the launch, sometime between May 31 and June 11, might affect waters in the Yellow Sea, East China Sea and east of the Philippines’ Luzon Island. Japan’s defense minister warned its forces to shoot down the satellite or debris, if any entered Japanese territory, and its coast guard issued a safety warning for ships that would be in the affected seas during the expected launch, citing a risk of falling debris. While North Korea’s rivals have condemned the country’s planned launch as a banned test of ballistic missile technology, it’s less clear whether the satellite itself is advanced enough to support the North’s stated goals of tracking and monitoring U.S. and South Korean military activities in real time.

Celebrations in Jordan ahead of kingdom’s first major royal wedding in years (AP) Several thousand cheering and flag-waving Jordanians packed a sports stadium for a free concert in the capital of Amman as part of celebrations leading up the kingdom’s first major royal wedding in years. Crown Prince Hussein, 28, is to marry Saudi architect Rajwa Alseif, 29, on Thursday at Zahran Palace in downtown Amman, the same wedding venue previously chosen by the prince’s father, King Abdullah II, and his grandfather, the late King Hussein. The nuptials come after a rough patch for the royals, including a public rift between the king and his half-brother, and are seen as a way of shoring up public support at a time of persistent economic difficulties.

Racers chase cheese wheel down a hill in chaotic UK race (AP) The big cheese of extreme U.K. sports events is back. Hundreds of spectators gathered Monday to watch dozens of reckless racers chase a 7-pound (3 kilogram) wheel of Double Gloucester cheese down the near-vertical Cooper’s Hill, near Gloucester in southwest England. The first racer to finish behind the fast-rolling cheese gets to keep it. The cheese-rolling race has been held at Cooper’s Hill, about 100 miles (160 kilometers) west of London, since at least 1826, and the sport of cheese-rolling is believed to be much older. Few competitors manage to stay on their feet all the way down the 200-yard (180 meter) hill, and this year several had to be helped, limping, from the course. Matt Crolla, 28, from Manchester in northwestern England, won the first of several men’s races. Asked how he had prepared, he told reporters: “I don’t think you can train for it, can you? It’s just being an idiot.” Delaney Irving managed to cross the finish line first to win the women’s competition, even after having been knocked unconscious. Irving, 19, said the race was “good … now that I remember it.”

[kayla1993-world]

The Dutch were outnumbered in their quarterfinal match at the World Cup. Argentina had one Lionel Messi, and the Netherlands had none. And still, the Oranje came back and forced extra time in a knockout match for the ages by scoring in the 83rd minute and then on a playground-type restart in the 11th, yes, 11th, minute of second-half stoppage time. When Argentina escaped with a 4-3 penalty kick win following a 2-2 draw Saturday to reach a semifinal against Croatia, the Dutch crumpled to the field in their glaring orange uniforms, looking like a withered citrus grove. Wout Weghorst, at 6-foot-6, was flat on his back in the center circle as Messi danced with teammates in front of tens of thousands of singing supporters. “They gave everything, and I’m incredibly proud,” coach Louis van Gaal said. “They did everything they could to prevent this from happening.” A nation that gave the world Total Football a half century ago remains with a total of zero World Cup titles, still looking up at Brazil (five), Germany and Italy (four each), Argentina, France, and Uruguay (two apiece), and England and Spain. A renowned innovator with coaches who attract youth prospects from around the world, the Netherlands has lost three World Cup finals. The Dutch took an early lead in 1974 before losing to host West Germany 2-1, and they were back in the championship match four years later only to lose to host Argentina 3-1 in extra time. Their next generation won a European Championship title in 1988 with Ruud Gullit and Marco van Basten leading them over the Soviet Union 2-0. But the big prize still eluded the Dutch. Arjen Robben and Robin van Persie led them to another final in 2010, but they lost 1-0 in extra time to a superior Spain, then were beaten by Messi and Argentina in the 2014 semifinals on penalty kicks. Back in the World Cup this year after failing to qualify for 2018, they entered the quarterfinal with a 19-game unbeaten streak. There were just 1,400 Dutch fans who stuck out in their bright jerseys among a crowd of 88,235, about 90% in Argentina’s blue-and-white-striped jerseys with Messi’s No. 10 on the back. Messi’s sublime no-look pass set up Nahuel Molina’s 35th-minute goal, and Messi doubled the lead when he converted a penalty kick in the 73rd after Denzel Dumfries pushed Marcos Acua at the edge of the penalty area. "I think that penalty was awarded rather easily," Van Gaal said. Taking aim at a tall task, Van Gaal opted for height. He inserted Weghorst, who headed a Steven Berghuis cross past Emiliano Martnez in the 83rd. On a night of a World Cup record 17 yellow cards and a postgame red card, the benches were cleared five minutes later. And then came the biggest twist of all. After Germán Pezzella fouled Weghorst to give the Dutch a free kick from 22 yards, Teun Koopmeiners started a play seen in training but rarely in games: He sent a low kick along the ground into the wall, where Weghorst took a touch, spun, and sent the ball past Martnez. And that's where the score remained after extra time, after the drama of Enzo Fernández hitting a post in stoppage time. "We thought that we would be able to win when it came to penalties," Van Gaal said. Captain Virgil van Dijk took the first, and Martínez dove right to push the ball away. After Messi converted, Martínez sprawled left to deny Berghuis. When Enzo Fernández put his try off a post, the Dutch had an opening, but Lautaro Martínez sent his kick to the right of goalkeeper Andries Noppert, who dived left. As the celebration extended, Messi and Van Gaal exchanged words. "This was my very last match," said Van Gaal, ending his third term in charge of the Oranje. "I look back positively." He was asked to assess his performance and mentioned the team's 20-game unbeaten streak. "I don't know how many we won (14), but you check all that." "I think it’s Google," he said. "The Dutch, Louis van Gaal, and the goal difference."

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Thank you to @lady-bluebird-luv and @littedidyouknow for the tag <3 <3 <3

If anyone wants to join in, I would love to know your answers <3 <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 21!!! I finally moved onto a second page

2. What's your A03 word count?

244,593

3. What fandoms do you write for?

ACOTAR and recently Cruel Prince!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Hate Me Instead

Chains

The Thief and the Rake

Books and Wings

Present

(this list is surprising to me...)

5. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Resurrect Me and it's like the only one 😅 I guess Hate Me Instead is bittersweet!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I love a happy ending. I think Blossoming in Winter has that big grand happy note!!

7. Do you get hate on fics?

No I have been really lucky!

8. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes although I am writing a ton now and feel like I've forgotten all the skills! Seriously though, somehow there was Hungry Thirsty Roots and then Thief, Chains and gift exchange are all in progress...

9. Do you write cross overs? What's the craziest one you've written?

No crossovers but I do like playing with weird sort-of AUs.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have not but I wouldn't be opposed!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Working on naedre with @whatishowedyouinthedark and Timeloop with the @feysand-hivemind!

13. What's your all time favorite ship?

Uhhh Feysand. And up at the top let's put Jude and Cardan, Mulder and Scully, Han and Leia, and maybe Veronica and Logan for some chaos!

14. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever wilI?

I WILL finish my WIPs! But Painted Blind is going to be in the publishing stages for...a while. That fic has like 35 chapters and it's only part one 😅

15. What are your writing strengths?

I hope Feysand banter, especially because I can write it so fast. I love when I hit the dialogue heavy parts because my word count soars. I think I am working on building up stronger plot point twists and drama.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Building tension, slow burn. I have no patience. Probably repeating a thousand words and phrases over and over too much. Needing to stop with the commas and cut down on the words...

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Sure!

18. First fandom you wrote for?

Jonny Quest back in the 90's! I remember it being all one long paragraph lol.

19. Favorite fic you've ever written?

IMPOSSIBLE but I'm going to go with Night Falling as my little neglected baby of angst.

20. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always! Comments are my absolute favorite. The high I get from that notification email is unmatched.

Thanks @popjunkie42!

I'm tagging (if you haven't been tagged already) @rosanna-writer, @xxvalkyriesxx, @xxsolar-writesxx, @belabellissima. No pressure of course :)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

8!

2. What's your A03 word count?

52,914

3. What fandoms do you write for?

ACOTAR! Although I've written for other fandoms in past under old accounts.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Flying Changes

Death's End

Blame the Heat

The Blood on Your Hands

Labyrinth of the Night

5. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

My fics as of right now don't have angsty endings, but perhaps one day I'll write something like that! with a certain overgrown bat who's color is red will be sobbing

6. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Call me a masochist, but The Blood on Your Hands

7. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope! (at least not yet rip)

8. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I love writing smut! I want to get more ABO!Acotar stuff out there!

9. Do you write cross overs? What's the craziest one you've written?

I do not! I don't have the brain power for those, so anyone who does them, you're a super genius <3

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope~

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't but I would be intrigued to so

13. What's your all time favorite ship?

NE SS IA N - this two keep me insane and sane at the same time, an no I will not elaborate.

14. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever wilI?

I recently deleted two fics that I posted months ago that went along the lines of an acotar sequel book following Eris and an OC, but it was so hard to write bc I came up with a lot back story that it drained me.

Just a note sometimes some wips aren't meant to be, and that's okay <3 It would be nice to finish, but I don't have the heart to do it.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Angst? I think I'm pretty good at that! And romantic tension.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing LOL. Sometimes writing is a bitch and no words end up in documents for days lol.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I only know English ;A; But if I had the knowledge to translate, I don't see why not!

18. First fandom you wrote for?

God this is so embarrassing...I would like to state for the record I was 10/11 and it was 2006/2007. But it was Pokemon 💀💀💀 No it wasn't the pokemon, it was the trainers.

That's how I discovered shipping and got into my first ship war and I think someone told me to off myself. So my parents decided to put parent controls on the computer after that.

19. Favorite fic you've ever written?

It's hard to pick, but Flying Changes. I rode throughout my childhood so being in that world again has made me so happy. Along with that, I wasn't entirely happy with how ACOSF played out (I liked the second half, but I totally understand the criticism and stand and by some of it).

Nesta is my favorite character in all of SJM books, so seeing how her story was lackluster and honestly not as angsty as I would've liked it to be. I really could go into an essay about this LOL.

20. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I'm not the best at responding right away, but I try to answer everything when I can <3

20 fic writer questions

thanks for the @melting-houses-of-gold; and I'm tagging @cauldronblssd @missfckingfortune @popjunkie42 @beesays @witch-and-her-witcher @wilde-knight

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 14

2. What's your A03 word count?

382,021

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just ACOTAR for now!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Flame of Autumn Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met The Hope of Spring --- A Heartbreak in Mid-December

5. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

every single thing to come. One day I chose violence and decided to write a one shot of the Lady of Autumn burying Jesminda's body.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Literally all the others because I am a SAP at heart haha

7. Do you get hate on fics?

Honestly, no. I have been so lucky, and people are always so lovely and kind and supportive.

8. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I dooooo. And even though it's been a year, every time I do it my brain is like "you're going to JAIL" lmao

9. Do you write cross overs? What's the craziest one you've written?

I haven't, but I have a Mor/Asterin fic outlined that I hope to get to in 2025! I love Throne of Glass so much

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No hahaha no one is stealing my shit LOL

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but am open to it!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Timeloop! :)

13. What's your all time favorite ship?

It changes! If we're sticking with ACOTAR, I love writing feysand and elucien, but I love reading gwynriel and elucien most.

14. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever wilI?

LOL, my poor, overflowing WIPs folder. I would love to revisit the Azris I started this past summer and abandoned.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I would say details and descriptions? I think I have a lot of adjectives lol.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Ugh BANTER. And certain smut haha.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I'm not opposed! I love to read it.

18. First fandom you wrote for?

The Matrix, we pretend we do not see it though.

19. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Hope of Spring is so important to me as my first, but I think Flame of Autumn is my favorite.

20. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always! I am always just so glad people took the time to read, let alone leave a comment. I have made some really lovely lifelong friends in the comments sections of fics. :)

[study-coffee-chicago]

Seasons of PD: Season 9: Ghosts of the Past (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister Imagine)

A/N: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy! There's a twist at the end which I hope you all like! And, please remember to reblog and comment!

Your age: 20

Jay's age: 34

You stood in the old apartment that you were clearing out. Jay and Hailey had decided to move in together. And, there was also a spare bedroom. Despite you being a sophomore in college and saying that you could take out a loan to live in a dorm on campus, Jay vetoed your idea and said that you could stay with him and Hailey. School was expensive, the cost of living was expensive, and your college was only 20 minutes away. Jay reasoned there was no point in you wasting thousands and thousands of dollars each year when you could still live with him.

You walked into Jay's room holding the last of your things--Hailey had run to the store to pick up some paint, so she wasn't here--to see him with his back to the door, looking down at a picture. You heard a sharp gasp from him.

You didn't know what he was looking at, but you assumed it was a photo of his time in the Rangers because there was a box by his feet which read Halstead, J.

You remembered the first time you had learned about Jay's PTSD. You were twelve and your mom had passed away a year and a half ago.

Your dad always worked late on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, so Jay would come over and watch you until your dad got home. Those were your favorite days of the week. Friday night would always be takeout night where Jay would bring over some food and you'd rent one or two movies and watch them. Sometimes, Jay would even make popcorn if you were going to watch a second movie! Thursdays, Jay would typically make dinner and help you with your homework. Sometimes, in the springtime when it got warmer out, if you finished your homework and had time before dinner, you and Jay would play basketball in the driveway (Jay always let you win by being really good at the beginning, and then being crappy at the end so that you'd get to ten baskets before him...and so you thought that he wasn't actually letting you win.). And, every school night you had to read for half an hour before bed. You didn't need help reading anymore because you were in sixth grade, but whenever Jay was over, he'd sit next to you on your bed and you'd both read your books silently to yourselves. If there was a word you didn't know, you'd ask him (and nine times out of ten, he wouldn't know what it meant or how to pronounce it either and would have to google it.). Finally, on Saturdays, the two of you would go to the grocery store and get ingredients for whatever you wanted to make for dinner. Then, you'd bring your little boombox radio into the kitchen and put in whatever Taylor Swift CD you wanted to listen to that night (middle school was your Taylor Swift phase) and sing along to the music while you and he made dinner. (You were pretty sure Jay knew all the words to most Taylor Swift songs at that point because of you.) Then, you'd eat dinner and watch the Blackhawks game that was on that night or the one Jay recorded from Thursday or Friday for you two to watch that night since you had to be in bed before the game was done on Thursdays and were busy watching movies on Friday. And, if the game went into overtime or a shoot-out, you'd normally fall asleep on the couch, and Jay would carry you to bed and tuck you in.

Those Saturday nights when you watched hockey together and you asked him never-ending questions about the rules of the game or why there were fights on the ice was why you knew you needed to know the national anthem perfectly. Your choir was singing it at the Chicago Wolves game (minor league affiliate of the Chicago Blackhawks) next Saturday and you wanted to be perfect when your brothers came to the game, because of course your dad had to work.

Will was back home from New York for Christmas break and would come over sometimes when Jay was watching you. He said he'd come over tomorrow, which was Saturday, and go grocery shopping, make dinner, and watch the Blackhawks game with you and Jay.

Now, you had just finished your shower and were in your pajamas and walked back to your room to practice the national anthem before you and Jay started eating Culver's and watching movies.

You had gone through the song twice and were halfway through singing it a third time, when Jay walked into your room, quickly interrupting you.

"Hey," he said. You turned around and noticed that he wasn't looking exactly like himself. His eyes were looking around a bit more than usual and he looked...almost nervous. "Can you stop? Please?"

"Why? My singing's not good?" you asked defensively, putting your hands on your hips.

If Jay was all there and not trying to keep himself together while also trying to stop himself from yelling, he might've chuckled at your sass. But not now.

"No, no, it's good. I just..." he trailed off. He didn't feel like explaining PTSD to his twelve-year-old sister. "I need to focus on making dinner."

Jay realized his mistake the minute he closed his mouth.

"No you don't, we're having takeout! All you do is put the stuff on plates!" You paused and took a deep breath. "Oh, say can you see..."

"Y/N, stop!" Jay yelled.

You sang louder. "...by the dawn's early light..."

"Y/N, if you don't stop right now, we won't watch a movie!"

"...what so proudly we hailed..."

"Y/N!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, the volume he typically only used when he was in the field and trying to get his partner's attention. The same volume he had used in Afghanistan to yell over the gunfire and IEDs.

You stopped. You had never heard Jay yell that loud.

"Good," he said. "Now, I'm gonna take a shower and while I'm doing that, I want you to eat dinner. Then, go to your room. No movie tonight." His head was still spinning.

"But, Jay!"

"No, buts. You should've listened to me. Now go eat."

You huffed and crossed your arms, but went to the kitchen to eat Culver's by yourself while your brother took a shower.

You sat at the table and waited for Jay.

He came out from his shower and then started eating. You tried to talk to him, but he just ignored you.

Eventually, you just gave up and went to your room like he had told you to.

***

"Hey, I brought Mcdonald's. Figured we could go sledding, too," Will said as he entered his childhood home to see Jay sitting on the couch drinking a cup of coffee.

"A text that you were coming over would've been nice," Jay muttered.

"Yeah, and you could always lock the door so that I have to knock, so guess we could've both done things differently." He furrowed his eyebrows. "Where's Y/N?" Typically you'd be in the living room watching Disney Channel or laying on the carpet reading.

Jay shrugged. "Hasn't come out of her room yet. She might still be sleeping."

"It's 10 am. Unless she's sick, there's no way she sleeps past 9."

"Well, she might not want to come out because she's mad at me, so there's that."

"What do you mean she's mad at you?" Will asked and sat down next to him on the couch. Jay shrugged. "Oh, don't give me that bullshit. You know exactly why she's pissed at you and I know it."

Jay sighed. He'd rather have Will hear it from him than hear your version of the events. So, he started to explain.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Will asked. He had no idea that his brother was struggling with PTSD.

"Because you wouldn't understand," Jay spat.

"Try me," Will said and took a defensive stance by crossing his arms and cocking his head to the side.

"Nothing to try," Jay answered. "You wouldn't get it."

"I'm not saying I will. It just might help that you try and explain it to me because it might help you to talk about it."

"Didn't know you had a degree in psychology as well as in medicine."

Will sighed. "C'mon, Jay."

Jay huffed. "Fine." He paused. "I told you she was practicing singing the anthem because she and her choir are singing it at the Wolves game next weekend."

"Yeah, and that triggers you?" Will asked, and then moved across the living room and put a hand on Jay's shoulder.

"It's just...we'd hear it every morning. It's what basically woke us up. And, that meant that it was a new day. That it was a new day and I could die. That it might be my last day living. But, that reason's not that bad."

"It's not?" Will asked and furrowed his eyebrows. What could be worse than thinking that this might be your last day on earth? he thought.

"No. It's all the times I've heard it at funerals. Seeing the wives and kids crying. I can go through all the firefights, but the funerals, man, that's what I hate. The anthem is supposed to honor people who fought, people like me, but it just reminds me of death, of all the people who I met over there who--" he coughed, trying to cover up the break in his voice that was due to him holding back tears, "--who didn't come back."

Will didn't know what to say. He couldn't say that he gets it, because he doesn't and he never will. He wasn't a trained therapist, so he had no idea what to say. He knew how to comfort patients and their families, but that was just telling him that they were doing everything they could for whoever was hurt. This had nothing to do with him; he couldn't say he was doing everything he could because he wasn't helping Jay. He wasn't operating on him or patching up his injuries.

He said the only thing he thought was relevant to the conversation at the moment. "Did you tell Y/N this?"

Jay shook his head. "I just told her to stop and go to her room after dinner and that we weren't watching movies. She's twelve. There's no way she'd get it."

"Well, we can try."

"You really think that's a good idea?" Jay asked.

"I think it's worth a shot. C'mon. It's about time for her to wake up anyway."

Jay and Will walked into your room where you were quietly reading on your bed.

You put your bookmark in and closed your book and then looked up and said the only thing you could think of. "Is Will here because you're still mad at me and don't wanna watch me anymore?"

Jay sighed and took a seat on your bed next to you. Will followed suit and sat on the other side of you. "No," Jay started, "that's not why Will's here."

"I'm here to go sledding with you guys. But, we need to talk first," Will said.

"About me not listening to Jay last night?" you asked. You knew you had been bad because you didn't listen to him.

"Sorta," Will answered. He nodded to Jay who took over the conversation.

"You know how whenever you smell the perfume that Mom used to wear you always get sad?" he asked.

"Yeah," you answered sadly.

"Well, that's kinda like how the national anthem is for me."

"Why?" you asked, looking up at him curiously.

This was the part Jay was afraid of. He didn't want to explain the horrors of war to you.

Luckily for him, Will decided now was a good time for him to take over.

"Remember how they played music at Mom's funeral?" Will asked. You nodded. "Well, when someone is a soldier like Jay, if they die, they play the national anthem at their funeral. And, Jay had some friends who died, so whenever he hears it, he thinks of them and gets sad."

"Oh." You turned to look up at Jay. "So I made you sad last night?"

"Something like that, yeah. And then I guess I was just so sad that I got mad and took it all out on you. I'm sorry, kiddo."

You didn't say anything. You just hugged him. "I'm sorry. Being sad isn't fun."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Jay reassured you.

"So you'll come to see me sing at the game next week Saturday?" you pulled away and asked hopefully.

"Uh..." Jay blanched and looked at Will.

"How about he comes and he'll just come in after the anthem's done?" Will suggested. "That way, he can watch the game. I'll be there to watch you sing, though."

"Okay. Then he can still watch the game and he won't get sad. Good idea."

"I'm full of 'em," Will sassed, and then Jay reached behind you and smacked him upside the head.

A week later, you sang the national anthem at the Chicago Wolves game and then went and found Will and went to your seats. Then, Jay came in and said even though he didn't hear you sing, that he knew you did a good job. You were glad both your brothers were there because your dad couldn't make it. And, when there was a penalty for charging and you asked what it was, Jay easily explained it to you. Will and Jay even brought you to get milkshakes at Steak N' Shake after the game. That night was one of your fondest memories of middle school.

"Hey," you said quietly as you walked closer to Jay and then touched his arm.

He jumped.

"You good?" you asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Just...old stuff from the army."

"Ghosts of the past. If you want, I can take care of the rest of your stuff," you suggested.

"No, no, it's fine. I got it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," he confirmed.

And, like anyone who was going into the field of psychology, you knew you needed to ask. "Would it help to talk about it? You know, you put the pictures in the box, take stuff out of that box, tell me something about it?"

Jay pondered this offer for a beat. On the positive end, he could have some stuff out in the open that he never told you. But, on the other hand, he'd have to relive a little bit of it and sensor himself. Despite you being an adult, he still was not going to tell you about the day-to-day horrors of war. He'd rather just have you still think that he was a good guy and the other people were bad guys. He didn't want you to know that he had done something overseas that was considered covering up a war crime.

But, for some reason, he agreed to talk to you.

"This is an old picture of me and Mouse," he said and put it back in the box.

"Who was the other guy?" you asked gently.

"Name was Elliot Knox. That's all you need to know."

"Okay, I won't push you. Wanna keep going?"

Jay chuckled. "You're gonna be a good therapist someday, kid."

"Psychologist. The difference is a lot more schooling."

"Same thing." He shrugged.

He grabbed the shadow box which hung above his bed with his uniform and some of his medals.

"Is this a commendation medal?" you asked, pointing to a blue and yellow medal that hung in the box.

Jay was shocked. "How did you know that? I don't think I've ever told you what it was called."

"When we had to read The Things They Carried in tenth grade, we learned about a lot of military stuff for background to the story. I just remember that being one of them." You paused. "What were the things you carried?"

"Literally or figuratively?"

"Whatever you feel comfortable telling me."

"Jesus, this sounds like a therapy session," Jay laughed.

"I can stop if you want, leave you alone?"

"No, it's fine. I'll just tell you the physical stuff we carried." He wasn't about to get into the emotional aspect of war. You didn't need to know that. "We carried our pack--so basically a giant backpack filled with supplies--, guns obviously, we'd wear our uniforms, our helmets, things like that." You got the sense that he was holding something back, but didn't push; you just waited for him to say more. "I also kept a picture of you, me, Mom, Dad, and Will."

"Really?" you asked.

He had never mentioned that before.

"Yeah. I threw it out when I got home because I always kept it in my boot, so it was super faded when I got home. But, I kept it through my whole first tour. And then, on my second, I just grabbed a more recent picture and did the same thing."

"Wow." You didn't know what to say at this point. It felt like he was sharing more about his time in the army with you in this short conversation than he ever had before this.

Jay sensed that you really didn't know what to say, so he changed the subject. "Ready to grab the last of your stuff and get out of here?"

You nodded and walked out of the room. Then, you looked around at the apartment which had been your home for the past five years since the day that Jay decided to take you in instead of having you continue to live with your dad.

***

You had just finished studying at one of your favorite coffee shops near the 21st district. You were feeling oddly generous today (by this, you meant you had a buy-one-get-one-free coupon) and decided to grab a coffee for Jay and one for Hailey and go to the district to bring them to them.

You made your way there and Trudy buzzed you up to Intelligence--not without saying that next time she expected coffee, though. You promised next time you would get her some--and then you walked into the bullpen. You saw Kim, Adam, and Kevin. You assumed Voight was in his office. No sign of Jay or Hailey.

"Anybody know where Jay or Hailey are?" you asked. "I have coffee for them."

"And none for me?" Adam asked. "I'm offended, Y/N, really."

"No, you're not," Kevin butted in. "But what you are, is a real pain in the ass, Ruz."

You set the coffee down and walked over and gave Kevin a fist bump. "Thanks for having my back."

"Anytime, Y/N." He paused. "Jay's in an interrogation. Think Hailey's in observation right now, so you can always go wait in the hallway if you want to catch 'em right when they're done."

"Okay, thanks."

"I'll text Hailey to tell her to make sure the observation room door is closed," Kim said.

"What? Why?" you asked.

Adam laughed. "It's a case, kid. Sensitive police information."

"And they trust you with that info? That's shocking," you sassed.

"Oh, shit! Girl can dish it out!" Kev praised. "Gimme some."

You gave him another fist bump and then made your way to the hallway where the interview and observation rooms were.

You waited a while until you heard them come out of the rooms. You were about to meet them halfway, but when you heard their voices, you stopped. Their conversation was about Jay's time in the army. And, despite being his sister, you were as in the dark as most people in the unit about his military past.

"It was kind of nice listening to you talk about the army," Hailey began. "You never do. Right, Ricky?"

Who the hell was Ricky?

"Don't call me that," Jay said quickly, with an edge to his voice.

So your brother was Ricky? What the hell?

"Okay, I'm sorry," Hailey apologized.

"No, don't apologize either, just... just don't call me that," Jay said.

You could see them now and started to walk up to them.

"Hey," you greeted. "I got coffee for Hailey." You held one out to her and she took it and thanked you.

"Why'd you bring us this?" she asked.

"I was studying at the place down the street and figured I'd bring some to you." Jay raised an eyebrow at you. "Okay, fine. I had a buy-one-get-one-free coupon and I already bought one for myself when I found the coupon."

"There it is," Jay laughed.

You grabbed the other cup and handed it to him. "And one for Ricky. Whatever the hell that meant."

Jay's eyes went wide for a minuscule second before he very quickly regained his composure.

"And you especially do not call me that," he told you sternly.

"Why are you called Ricky anyway? How'd that come up?" You figured if you pushed enough that you'd get your answer.

You were wrong.

"Y/N, drop it." He raised his voice slightly.

"I'm just wondering."

"And I really don't want to yell at you in front of my coworkers. So, please, for the love of God, drop it." You knew that voice well. It was the voice he used when he wanted to yell at you but didn't because you were in public.

"Okay, okay," you conceded. "I won't call you that. Enjoy your coffee."

Then, you stormed out of the hallway and out of the bullpen without saying goodbye.

***

"I'll eat in my room," you said when Jay and Hailey came home from work with a bag of takeout from a nearby burger joint. You figured Jay was still pissed at you and figured it would be better for you to eat away from him for the time being.

"No," Jay said. "You can stay. I owe you both an explanation."

You, Hailey, and Jay sat on the floor of the new apartment (the table and chairs Jay had ordered wouldn't be here for a few more days).

You started eating and just waited for Jay to begin talking.

"You don't have to tell us anything," Hailey said gently and ran her fingers over Jay's hand.

"I know I don't," Jay said. "But, I feel like I owe you both an explanation...that, and I know Y/N will bug the living shit out of me if I don't explain."

"Damn right I will," you agreed between bites of your burger.

"For background, Y/N, that guy you saw in the photo yesterday, Elliot Knox, we picked him up today because he was...all you need to know was that he was doing illegal stuff." You nodded and found it ironic that Jay had seen the picture yesterday and told you who he was and then arrested him the very next day. But, you didn't say this. You just let Jay continue. "Ricky is short for Ricochet. One day, outside the wire... I shot a guy yards away by bouncing a round off of an armored Humvee. My guys didn't think I could make it. The name stuck. And I liked it."

"What about Knox?" Hailey asked. "He said he did something, he made a mistake?"

Jay took a deep breath, preparing for one of his deepest, darkest secrets from his time overseas to be out in the open.

"We won't tell anyone," you said. You knew whatever he was going to say was going to be triggering just because of how his last bout of PTSD went when he killed a young girl because his bullet went through an offender and into her. His PTSD acted up so badly that he had nightmares and didn't know where he was and accidentally pulled a gun on you in his sleep. But, then he got his meds increased and he was back to normal within a week. The last thing you would do was tell anyone what he was going to say because then someone might ask Jay about it and it would trigger him all over again.

Jay nodded. "Okay. There was a guy in our unit that everybody loved. His name was Lopez, and he couldn't resist handing out candy to all the local kids on base. So, the Taliban used a kid to kill him. And, Knox decided to take matters into his own hands, so he went out one night, off the books, and he found the man responsible. And, he killed everyone in the house. Everyone. Knox wasn't charged, though. He served out his tour. Yeah, he covered it up. He lied. The truth is, I could have done something. I should have. And I didn't." He said the next part directly to Hailey. "I like that he told you it was a mistake, though, that's good. He probably believes that too. It's insane what we tell ourselves. And it was straight-up murder. It was murder and lies."

You didn't know what to say after that. Now you knew why kid cases always hit him really hard though and why it had been so triggering for him to accidentally shoot that little girl and then have a military case a few weeks later.

Luckily for you, Hailey spoke up. "I don't want to excuse what you did because we both know that you committed a war crime, but you were just a kid, Jay. You and Knox both were. But, in war, things aren't black and white."

"You're right about that," Jay agreed.

He looked at you, waiting for you to say something.

You didn't know what to say. You thought he was some war hero, not an accomplice to a war crime, much less a war crime that involved children. The Jay you knew now would never do that.

But, did you really know the Jay he had been back then? After all, you were just a kid yourself.

But, you had been told that he was away fighting the bad guys, not that he could possibly be one of the bad guys.

You picked up what was left of your burger and your fries. "I'm gonna finish this in my room."

"Y/N, wait!" Jay yelled as you stood up and walked off.

You turned around. "What, Jay? You always tell me to tell the truth, but you didn't!"

"I know that. And, I regret it every day. I really do. But, in the moment, in Afghanistan, in my dumbass twenty-something-year-old brain, this seemed like the right decision. I can't really do anything about it now because Knox is in prison."

You walked back over to him and Hailey.

"Did you know what he was going to do?" you asked quietly. You couldn't see Jay just sitting around and letting something like this happen, even if it was his dumbass twenty-something-year-old self.

"No," he answered. "If I did, I would've tried to stop it."

There's the Jay you knew and loved.

"Okay." You sat back down and continued to eat with Jay and Hailey. "Sorry for lashing out," you apologized.

"It's okay," Jay said. "I kinda lashed out earlier at the district when you brought us coffee, so we'll call it even." He turned to Hailey. "I'm gonna sleep on the couch tonight."

"Jay, you don't have to--"

"Hailey, please. Just trust me on this one. Please."

"Okay," she said quietly.

***

Jay doesn't remember much about the nightmare, which he's grateful for. It's like the minute Hailey woke him up his brain forgot what he was dreaming about.

"Breathe, Jay. Breathe," Hailey soothed and sat down on the couch next to him and offered her hand to him. He took it and she gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Once he got his breathing under control, he answered. "Even if I wanted to, I can't. I don't remember it...which I guess is a good thing." He paused and properly looked at his girlfriend. Her hair was messy from sleep and she was wearing a baggy t-shirt that hung off her left shoulder and a pair of gray joggers. "How'd you know I was having a nightmare?"

She ran a hand through her hair. "You yelled in your sleep."

"Shit, Hails. I'm sorry." He knew how much yelling triggered her because of her past and knew it had probably taken a lot of courage for her to come out here and wake him up.

"It's okay," she reassured. "You don't scare me, Jay. You're just so decent. I love you. And, even though you were yelling, I know you weren't trying to."

"You're right," Jay agreed. "I would never knowingly do that. Now you see why I needed to sleep on the couch. I didn't want to scare you. You mean too much to me for me to do that to you."

"I mean that much to you, huh?" she joked.

"Oh, yeah." He leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled away.

"You're sweaty. I think you need a shower first, mister."

Jay laughed. "Okay, fine. But I get a kiss after."

Hailey rolled her eyes. "You're so cheesy."

Then, the two got up and made their way to their bedroom. Jay quickly jumped in the shower and Hailey sat awake on their bed and started reading because she promised to give Jay a kiss when he got out and she couldn't exactly be asleep to do that.

***

While in the shower, Jay did a lot of thinking. He loved Hailey. He knew that. He knew ever since she told him about Booth and they started their thing almost four years ago.

He never wanted to be without her. And, he knew they had just started dating a year ago, but he loved her and he wanted to be with her for the rest of their lives.

That conversation on the couch just solidified it. She wasn't scared of him like he was with her dad even though she hated yelling. She knew all the good and bad sides of him and she still loved and cared for him.

He got out of the shower and put on his pajama pants and a t-shirt.

Hailey was still sitting on the bed. "Need that kiss now?" she joked.

He laughed. "I'll take it."

He walked over to her side of the bed and bent down and the two shared a quick peck on the lips.

"I love you," Jay said quietly.

"I love you, too," Hailey replied smiling.

"And, I've known that...well, I've known that for years and tonight just solidified that. You've seen me at my worst and know my darkest secret and you still decided to stay despite your past. I love you, Hailey and I want it to be you and me always." He grabbed her hand and dropped down to one knee. "Hailey Anne Upton, will you marry me?"

Hailey gasped and put her free hand over her mouth. She nodded her head a few times while she found the words. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you, Jay Halstead."

Jay stood back up and they shared a long kiss between them before he quickly got into bed and they continued kissing...among other things.

***

You knew Jay and Hailey were the low-key date night type and the low-key birthday type, but you didn't think they were this low-key.

You didn't even notice anything until you were eating dinner.

You saw a black band on Jay's hand and thought that that was really weird because he wasn't one for jewelry. Then, you noticed the same one on Hailey's left ring finger.

You furrowed your eyebrows. They weren't wedding bands. So, they had to be promise rings, right?

"You guys got promise rings?" you asked.

Jay finished chewing his food. "We actually got married," Jay answered.

You laughed. "That was a good one. But really, are they promise rings?"

Jay smiled and laughed. "No, we actually got married."

You looked at Hailey. "C'mon, Hailey. I know you'll tell me the truth."

She shook her head. "We seriously got married, Y/N. Jay proposed two days ago."

"The night that we talked about everything?" you asked. Jay nodded. "No, no. This is all too fast. I don't believe you. Where's the marriage license?"

Jay sighed and rolled his eyes and then got up and went to his and Hailey's room. A few minutes later, he came out with a piece of paper and handed it to you.

Your jaw dropped as you read their copy of the marriage license. "Holy shit. You two actually did it. You got married."

"That's what we've been trying to tell you!" Jay exclaimed.

You jumped off your chair and shoved the marriage license back into his hands. "You two got married and didn't invite me? You better be having a vow renewal where Hailey wears a dress and you wear a suit because I have been rooting for the two of you since you got your dumbass shot, Jay!"

"Jesus," Jay muttered. "Fine, maybe we'll do one."

"No, you will do one."

Hailey laughed. "You know, wearing a wedding dress and feeling like a princess for a day doesn't sound so bad. But, I don't want a lot of people there. Nothing big."

"I can deal with that!" you exclaimed and then started to run down the hall.

"Where are you going?" Jay yelled to you.

"To grab my laptop so me and Hailey can look at wedding dresses while we finish eating, obviously!"

"Looks like we'll have to have a vow renewal, Mrs. Halstead." Jay laughed and then gave Hailey a kiss on the cheek.

"Looks like we will, Mr. Halstead."

Hailey never thought she'd go and get married this fast. But with Jay, it was different. She'd follow him blind. And now, she'd follow him blind for the rest of their lives together.

A/N: I got a request to add in Jay and Will explaining PTSD to Y/N when she was a kid, so I added it in here. I didn't originally plan to have Upstead get married in this, but I had the idea and I had to put it in because MARRIED UPSTEAD IS CANON! Anyway, thank you again for reading! And, if you want to be added to my taglist, just message me and I’ll add you! Please reblog and comment because I love, love, love hearing your thoughts!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

[stansupremacy]

SURPRISE — CHRIS EVANS X READER ONE SHOT FLUFF

[NOTE] English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes. Very excited to share this story with you, I originally posted it on wattpad, but it was really frustrating to note that it didn't seem to attract attention. Let's not focus on that, but on the now, new beginnings in Tumbrl (I still don't know how works lmao)

[COPYRIGHT] All rights reserved, copying or adaptation of the novel without prior notice to the author is PROHIBITED.

Traveling the world with a six-month-old was not an easy job, but you took the risk.

Chris was turning 40, you flatly refused to spend that special day away from him.

They were both actors, so their schedules were always very tight. Unfortunately, the idea of ​​the surprise party with the whole family in Boston had been completely scrapped because Chris was filming in France for his next project and you were in Canada giving a press conference promoting your new movie.

The chances of celebrating her birthday together had been reduced to zero, worse you being the stubborn woman you are, you did not give your arm to twist. So after several fights with your representative and several scolding from your personal assistant for having disorganized your entire schedule. You had managed to escape for seven days, so that you and your daughter could surprise her father on her birthday.

You knew there was no better gift than to take Luna to her father, it had been a few long weeks since they last saw each other. Separating from his daughter was something that destroyed Chris, it had been a very difficult decision, but being a sensitive one. Luna had to be with you, she was breastfeeding, she couldn't be away from you for long.

After two plans, more than 16 hours of travel and a lot of stress, they had reached their destination. Paris Charles de Gaulle airport. The first part of the plan was complete, without wasting time, you settled Luna in her baby carrier on your chest, she cried in protest, she wanted to keep looking around her.

"I know, I know honey ... But you have to understand, mommy can't carry you in her arms, she has to carry the luggage" you murmured kissing her little head. You took the two suitcases and without wasting time you left the airport.

Luna had started to fidget, you understood her. The journey had been long, the two of them urgently needed rest. "Honey ... It was a short time, we just have to wait for Uncle Scott to come pick up us and we can go to sleep, preferably in Daddy's arms."

You took the phone from your backpack unlocking it to enter the chat with Scott, you sent the location and put it back in your pocket, without holding on any longer, you took off your chinstrap, a sigh of satisfaction left your lips when you felt the fresh air on your expensive. You removed little Evans from the carrier baby when you noticed that she kept complaining. Her small and expressive blue eyes looked around curiously.

"Do you need a ride?" A car pulled up on the street in front of you, the driver's window opened revealing Scott's face.

"Finally!" You exclaimed, he laugh getting out of the car, his arms wrapped around you affectively I returned the gesture for a few seconds.

Luna stretched her arms as she recognized her uncle waiting to be carried. Scott did not doubt it, and took her in his arms as he helped you store your bags in the trunk of the car.

You opened the back door, to throw your backpack there before entering and stretch your arms towards your daughter, who hesitating for a few seconds, accepted the change of arms.

"Sorry for the delay, your boyfriend is a pain in my ass. He asked me a thousand questions trying to figure out where I was going" Scott commented making sure the door is closed, he walked around the car and got back on as pilot, beginning to lead. "Tired?

"You have no idea" you sigh closing your eyes, a small smile adorns your lips knowing that they had achieved it, they would see Chris. "I swear that this is the only time that I cross half the world alone with a baby, next time I will bring someone to help me."

"Well, they are here, that's the important thing"

"Yeah, you're right." You answered, you look Luna who was beginning to close her eyes, it seemed that the dream was beginning to overcome her, you rock her lightly by kissing her plump cheek

[...]

Luna played entertainingly with the TV remote while you circled the hotel room, eager to see Chris.

You had to turn off your phone because he had not stopped calling and sending messages, your last message to him had been minutes before boarding, telling him that you were going to take a nap. More than 20 hours have already passed, so it was normal for him to worry, but you had decided not to answer him, it was not in your plans to ruin the surprise.

The clock said twelve o'clock at night, officially it was Chris's birthday, who should arrive at any moment.

Half an hour later, a message from Scott warning that he has already arrived at the hotel was what got you going. The suitcases were in Scott's room because if Chris came to see them he would instantly notice that they were there, you took your girl out of bed and ran to the bathroom but not before turning off all the lights.

Seconds after closing the door, the room door was heard opening. Chris's voice and Scott's laugh reached your ears.

"Don't laugh, idiot, this is serious. Y/N doesn't answer me, I think she's angry, but I don't know what I did." Scott made fun of his brother again, you smiled amused when you heard Chris's concern about the lack of messages. Luna, taking advantage of the fact that they were near the shower ledge, took a bottle of shampoo to drop it, making a great bang.

"Luna, you give away our position! You whispered indignantly, mini Evans babbling in amusement.

The door slammed open revealing a surprised Chris. Scott came in behind him, recording the reunion.

"Surprise!" You exclaimed, Luna shouted excitedly when she recognized her father. Chris wasting no time, drew them into a hug. "Luna and I decided that Daddy couldn't spend his 40th birthday away from us, right sweetheart?" The baby smiled stretching her hands to touch her father's face.

"Oh my girls, I missed you so much" Chris sighed still without letting go of the hug, he placed a kiss on Luna's forehead before turning her face and kissing you tenderly on the lips.

"Happy birthday darling, we love you very much, I hope you liked the surprise"

"I couldn't ask for a better thing" he smiled kissing your lips again.

"Don't say that, I have others that I'm sure you will love" you whispered with a mischievous glint in your eyes, Chris smirked. "We must put on day".

"For the love of God, you two are disgusting, talk about sex in front of the baby? Gross" Scott exclaimed in disgust.

Chris chuckled coming out of the bathroom with Luna on his right arm while his left was on your waist. He couldn't think of a better birthday start.

[fedonciadale]

20 Opening Lines Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have fewer than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some people to take part.

I was tagged by the lovely @heyjude19-writing! Thanks! If you love Dramione check their fics!

1. He did not like the way Rhuarc looked at him as if he had never seen him before. (A musician’s fate, Wheel of Time, my Asmodemption fic, has been my headcanon for years, finally started writing it!)

2. Even though she was so small, Harry could see that her wings fluttered in panic as she tried to escape the rubber band that had twisted around her ankle. (The Perils of Fairy Dust, Dramione, finished, long fic, just needs the epilogue, I need to decide which PoV to take for that!)

3. “It’s just the jitters, Hermione,” said Ginny. “I almost ran away to New Zealand a week before my wedding with Harry.” (Only you – Or the only time Hermione believed in divination, Dramione, oneshot, written for the Dramione RomCom fest the sequel)

4. The glittering sparks descended on Leo Malfoy-Granger and stuck to his skin giving him a distinctly fairy look. (The Narrow Escape of Antony Goldstein, Dramione, finished, 4 chapter, Mutually beneficial Universe, written for the DHr Monsterfucking Mini Fest 2021)

5. Pansy had done it. (The Perks of Casting a Patronus, Panville, long fic, finished, Phoenix Potion Universe)

6. Harry waited to tell the news to the others until Hermione had left. (An unexpected wedding guest, Dramione, Mutually beneficial Universe, 3 chapters)

7. When Harry entered the kitchen of Grimmauld place, he saw Ron was already awake despite the early hour. (The Phoenix Potion, novel-length fic, Dramione, Panville, Bluna, my favourite baby)

8. As if one mark wasn’t enough (Surprise Soulmates, Dramione, 3 chapters, box_of_chocolates with beautiful art by @hiyasdoodles)

9. Personal points were the reason why Pansy’s feelings were very mixed, when she was paired with Theo for the night patrol. (Skirting the Carrows’ decrees, Panville oneshot)

10. Samwell tried not to gawk too openly. (Judicatrix, Jonsa, long fic, Historical AU)

11. Draco’s boss came into his office before he had finished his morning coffee, but there was no use giving not so subtle hints that it was too early in the morning - not with Luna Lovegood. (Tylwyth Teg - Fairies on a Welsh Mountain, Dramione, oneshot, written for the Mad Frankenstein Fest, art by @ernestine88)

12. They sat in a nice muggle restaurant. (Mutually beneficial, Dramione, Oneshot, written for Happy Birthday Mr Malfoy)

13. The howling wolves came nearer every night. (Words from the Heart, Jonsa, one shot)

14. Jon held his fosterfather’s hand in despair. (Habits of the Freefolk, Jonsa, canonbent AU, 15 chapters)

15. The letter would have to be short so as not to raise suspicion. (To hide a secret, Jonsa oneshot).

16. Jon returned in spring. (Frail, Jonsa oneshot)

17. The Queen had been in a fit for half a day, so that everybody had tread carefully, especially Sansa’s father, Ned Stark, Hand of the king and the regent of the seven kingdoms. (Sweet Poison, Nedsei and Jonsa, oneshot very AU)

18. The lords were in a “wedding mood” as Sansa called it to herself. (A thousand eyes and one, Jonsa, oneshot)

19. Jon woke with a start. (To go South, Jonsa, long fic, my Jonsa baby)

20. When he greeted Tyrion from the shadows at the window when his brother entered the room his voice sounded still raspy and did not sound like himself at all. (Fire touched, Jonsa, Braime, 10 chapters)

I must admit, I don’t see any pattern apart from the fact that I seem to just dive into the story. lol.

I think I’ll pick this one as my fav: “It’s just the jitters, Hermione,” said Ginny. “I almost ran away to New Zealand a week before my wedding with Harry.” 

It’s dialogue (my strength), and I think it sets the light hearted mood of the fic quite well. My second fav is The howling wolves came nearer every night. for the same reason. It sets the slightly eerie mood of the fic.

I tag @kyliafanfiction @butterflydm @undeadlilies @incognitotoro @periwinkle39 @niffizzle @kallypsowrites @cappymightwrite and anyone who wants to play!

[justcourttee]

Hi I love your fics and maribat. Tall Girl (Netflix) reminds me a lot about Timari. So maybe to something with that. (With Mari thinking that Tim's confessions were all jokes and wanting Ardien who was roped into dating lila and it's the class making fun of mari.)

Oh goodness, this took ages and I both apologize and hope it's what you were looking for! 24 pages and over ten thousand words! For reference, that's 20% of my first multi-part Maribat piece!

Average

In a world where everyone is looking for extraordinary, how do you survive when you’re just average?

I’ve spent my whole life mulling over the thought, trying to find a way to be extraordinary, trying to find a way to be noticed, and constantly failing.

It wasn’t like it was from a lack of effort, I really did give my all to everything I tried, it was just, there was always someone better.

Specifically, one insufferable bitch named Lila Rossi.

Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘Marinette, it’s not fair to call Lila a bitch just because she was better than you,’ and if it were a normal rivalry, I could agree with you. But you simply don’t know Lila Rossi.

Lila has been a thorn in my side since we met on the soccer field at just ten years old. I accidentally bumped into her sending us both tumbling to the ground and she took that personally. Slapping my hand away, she bawled the worst fake tears I had seen in my ten short years until the coach benched me. Can you imagine the embarrassment of being benched in elementary school soccer?

Ever since that day, anytime we were placed together it always ended in disaster, especially for me.

Now, as much as I would love to on about how awful the sausage-haired brat is, I’m sure that’s not what you came here for. So let me break it down for you. If you are looking for your typical girl meets boy, they fall in love and live happily after, you should scroll now. It’s only fair to warn you. After all, I don’t want you to be disappointed when we reach the ending. I’ll give you a second.

Still here?

Well, hold on tight. Because the story I am about to tell you isn’t much to just anyone, but it’s everything to me and my average life.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It all started on a Tuesday in August when he arrived.

Adrien Agreste.

“Class, I want you to welcome our exchange student, Adrien Agreste! He’s here all the way from Paris, France, and will be finishing the year with us. Adrien, why don’t you tell the class something about yourself?”

I couldn’t even focus on the words that escaped from his precious lips. His voice was so silky, like softened butter on one of Papa’s fresh muffins. Everything about him screamed perfect from his thoughtfully placed hair to his shining green eyes. He was simply-

“-Earth to Mari! You could at least try to hide your drool.”

My eyes snapped shut as I took a deep breath.

“Tim, I am not drooling. And you know I hate it when you whisper in my ear! It tickles!”

Tim rolled his eyes as he sat backward, his eyes narrowing to where Adrien stood in the front of the room, a pristine white smile earning giggles from every female in the class.

“I don’t like him. Something seems off about him. He’s too-too-”

“Perfect?” I chuckled to myself as the heat rose to Tim’s cheeks, his eyebrows settling into their usual aggravated pose. “I don’t know what has your panties in such a twist Wayne, but shouldn’t we try to get to know him first? I think he seems nice.”

Tim huffed under his breath, his cheeks filling with air. It was hard for me to contain my giggles as he mumbled to himself, his pout deepening.

Tim Drake-Wayne. He is my absolute, undeniable, unshakeable best friend. We met back when my parents decided to drag me halfway across the world for a change of pace. I was in the fifth grade when a young irritable boy with a coffee addiction wandered into the bakery alone, demanding a double shot of espresso to deal with the day.

After several visits, we became closer and closer until we were inseparable. Tim’s been through a lot. He was emotionally abused by his parents, forced to mature too quickly. We had just entered the eighth grade when those same parents died and he was adopted by the town’s billionaire, Bruce Wayne. I was sure I would never see him again, but after much convincing (bugging), Bruce decided public school was best for Tim so that he wouldn’t be isolated again.

I adore Tim with my whole heart, really, but there is one thing he does that I absolutely despise.

“After school today, let me take you to the new coffee shop that just opened! It’ll be just like a date.” His wink only strengthened my urge to knock him flat.

“First of all, quit joking about my lack of a love life. I don’t need a pity date from you. Second, how do you switch so easily from grueling to jokes? Don’t you get whiplash or something?”

It’s a daily occurrence. I mention someone I like or that someone is cute and immediately Tim jokes about how it would just be easier if I dated him instead. It’s the only thing he does that has ever truly gotten on my nerves.

My gaze returned to the front of the classroom where Adrien had settled into his new seat. Even the back of his head had every hair perfectly placed. How did he even begin to manage that? I wasn’t sure how long I had stared, but before I knew it the bell had sounded and I was whisked away by Tim before I could even say hi.

The same pattern repeated itself every day for weeks.

Every time I would work up the courage to say something to him, Tim drug me away as fast as he could manage. Although, I can’t place the entire blame on Tim. There was one other factor, one factor worse than Tim.

Lila Rossi.

As student body president, she vowed that it was her duty to show Adrien around the school and around town. I spent every night scrolling through dozens of snapchats and instagram stories filled with her hanging off of his arm.

Even if I could escape Tim’s grasps, there was no way she would let me get in a ten-foot radius of him.

At least, that was what I thought. There was one time during the day that Adrien had a moment to himself. Fifth period when the music room was abandoned and most took off for their internships or club activities.

I discovered him by accident, truly. My club had let out early for the day and while most people would take off to head home or to one of Gotham’s more popular afternoon hangouts, I wanted to wait for Tim.

It was never my plan to corner him, but as I flung open the music room’s door without a second thought, my eyes met startled green and my heart dropped to my stomach.

“I’m so sorry! Usually, the music room is empty right now and I thought I could find some peace, and I didn’t know you were in here and oh my god I’m such a dork.”

I slapped my hand over my mouth before I could spiral any further, his widening eyes sending my heart deeper. This was it. I finally had a chance to introduce myself and I wasted it. If there was any way I could just slink away, crawl into a six-foot hole, and simply wither away in misery, I would take it without hesitation.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll just head out no-” I could feel the heat rising to my face as the most precious sound I ever had the pleasure of experiencing erupted from him. His laugh could literally cure cancer, I was sure of it.

“No, no, you’re fine! Marinette, right?” He knew my name? Adrien Agreste, the most perfect man in the world, no, in the universe, knew who I was?

I could barely find the strength to nod, the heat in my cheeks becoming unbearable. He offered a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck in such a gentle and shy manner. It was too effective. There was no way I wasn’t going to pass out before Tim got out of his AV club.

“I’m sorry, I also didn’t realize that anyone used this room besides me. I’ve spent the past few weeks in here while everyone was in their clubs.”

“You didn’t want to join anything?” Was my voice always this high? I couldn’t remember. To be honest, I was still in a daze from his precious laugh.

“It wasn’t that! It’s just, there’s nothing here that really interests me. I prefer classical things, like the piano and musicals and French theater. Nothing that interests normal kids our age.”

French theater? I knew some from the days I spent with my Grandfather in Paris. He was a sucker for classical things as well.

“I don’t think that those are weird interests. I mean, I prefer to design as my hobby, but I’ve spent quite a few hours watching French musicals with my papy. I am very knowledgable if I do say so myself.”

Adrien’s smile was blinding as he slid over on the piano bench, offering the spot beside him. My heart had finally returned to normal, but just one small motion had sent it into a flurry as it desperately tried to escape my chest.

“Let’s make a bet Marinette.” I found myself nodding before he even finished his sentence, his infectious smile starting to pull a smile of my own. “If you can guess the song and musical, you can ask for anything you want from me.”

“And if I get it wrong?” I was so sure the air was thinner beside him, the glint in his eyes drawing my breath away.

“Then I can ask you for anything I want, deal?” I hesitated for a moment, unable to comprehend that he would even want anything from me to begin with, but seconds later my head began to move, my breathing scarce.

I closed my eyes as his fingers hit the first notes, a beautiful melody following. The song was so familiar, so simple, but it was so hard to focus with him so close by. All too soon, the echoes of the final note rang through the room until a deafening silence settled atop of it.

“So, any guesses?”

I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth, a name settling in the forefront of my mind.

“It’s definitely Sur Deux Notes, but for some reason, I can’t remember the musical”

My eyes flickered open as I resisted the urge to jolt backward. His face was mere centimeters away, everything about him urging me to lean forward, to give in.

“A true tragedy Miss Marinette,” a finger popped up to bop my nose before he slid off the bench, offering his hand to help me stand. “You got it half right! It’s from the musical Les Chansons d'Amour. Which means-”

His pauce was dramatic as I stood, his grip on my hand loose.

“I win! Therefore, I get to ask you for anything correct? That was the deal?” His smirk was so playful, it almost felt dangerous. “So, Ma Dame, what are your plans this weekend?”

“Nothing!” That was definitely too quick, do I look desperate? Honestly, if it meant staring at that smile for a second more, I found myself caring less and less.

“Then, how about I help you refresh your musical knowledge? I believe I can get ahold of a copy of the original Les Chansons d’Amour by Saturday.”

This was a date, right? I wasn’t dreaming, the red throbbing spot on my arm pretty much guaranteed it. Somewhere along the line, I must have nodded, and as he gently released my hand turning to grab his bag, all the warmth left with him. Already, I found myself longing for his touch again.

“I hate to ask, but can you meet me at Wayne Manor? I’m sure Mounseir Bruce would allow me to borrow a car, but I am not quite comfortable asking him for something like that.”

“Sure-” I felt the gears turning in my head until the final one clicked into place. “I’m sorry, did you say Wayne Manor? As in Bruce Thomas Wayne? Gotham’s Favorite Billionaire?”

“Ah yes,” his hand moved to the back of his neck, a sheepish smile replacing his confident one from moments before. “It’s a bit embarrassing, but he was the only one my father would let me stay with. I couldn’t even apply for housing because he already had it set up. Does that make you feel awkward?”

“Oh no, of course not! I’m well acquainted with the Waynes! In fact, there is one that I forgot I was supposed to meet today. Can I give you my number really quick?”

As I handed him his phone and we bid goodbye, I couldn’t even begin to relish in the high I was feeling. No. The only thing I could focus on was how to murder one little Wayne boy.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Marinette, c’mon! It’s not that serious. So what if I didn’t tell you that Adrien was staying here?”

I tapped my pencil against my forehead, trying to ignore the pestering fly beside me.

The minute I had stepped out of the music room a couple of days before, I encountered two of the biggest thorns in my life. Tim paling at the sight of my rage and one insufferable bitch wearing the ugliest scowl. He ran from me then, he ignored my texts and calls, and I’m assuming once Adrien mentioned our date to Bruce, he decided there was no more avoiding it.

“Besides, he sounds pretty cheap if he’s making you meet him at Bruce’s house. Watching musicals? Like with your grandfather? Is he ancient or something?”

I gritted my teeth, trying to maintain the silence. There were so many things I wanted to say to him at the moment, but seeing him squirm was the best revenge. Tim loved silence unless it was purposely directed at him. His brothers taught me that years ago.

The bell sounded through the room and I quickly darted out before he could attempt another backhanded apology.

These were the days that I missed my Paris friends. Besides Tim, I was utterly alone. I mean, I technically could hang out with Tim’s siblings, but then I’d still have to see him. There was one person that lived outside the Wayne household, yet I wasn’t sure if I was ready to cross that line yet.

I walked home alone again.

Realistically speaking, I needed to at least work up the patience to face him before Saturday. It was almost a guarantee that he would be there. It wasn’t like he would go out on the weekends. But with only two days just seemed too soon.

I had barely walked into the bakery when my mother excitedly waved me down the landline in hand.

“Marinette! A boy from your school is on the line!”

I raised an eyebrow as I accepted the phone, waving her off. There was only one boy that knew the landline number and that was Tim, but if he were on the phone, she would’ve said so.

“Hello?”

The silence was deafening. For a moment, I was sure they had hung up and was about to follow suit when a soft voice sent chills down my spine.

“Marinette? It’s Adrien. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

My breath caught in my throat. Did he ask Tim for my number? But he has my cell? It didn’t matter how he got it or why he was using it, I just needed to respond.

“No-” I cleared my throat trying to find my real voice because it certainly wasn’t how I just spoke. “No, it’s not a bother at all.”

“Great, so, I heard from Lila that there was a homecoming dance coming up. I haven’t been to one before, but I was wondering if I could go with you?”

“Of course I would love-” My heart sank before I could finish my sentence. Laughter cut me off, two distinct laughs that I could pick out from anywhere. “Don’t you ever get tired Lila!”

“Oh my god, you were so excited huh? Pretty pathetic that you think he would fall for you after one conversation Mari dear.”

I didn’t even know how to respond. She wasn’t wrong. We shared one song and haven’t even gone on one date yet, why would I even believe this for one moment?

“Yo Mari, what’s good xinh đẹp?” I felt my hand rising to massage my temples before I could even find the strength to respond.

“Kim, were you trying to call her beautiful, or do you just suck that much at your grandmother’s native language?”

Muffled arguing continued for a few minutes, a few too many for me to question why I still hadn’t hung up. There was a concerning shriek before silence followed.

“I’m surprised you’re still here dumbinette, do you like being degraded by me?” Her laughter sounded like nails on a chalkboard and I could feel the tightness in my chest rising to my throat. “I just wanted to call to make one thing clear. Stay away from Adrien Agreste. I set my sights on him the minute he walked through those doors back in August and I don’t want you to think for even a second in that pitiful brain of yours that you even have a chance, okay?”

I wanted to argue, I wanted to rub it in her face that I had a date this Saturday, one I didn’t have to force upon him like she had the past few weeks. But the tightness had settled, crushing my windpipes. My hand inched down from my temple to my eyes where they were met with a warm wet tear.

“Mmkay, that was all babe! See you at school, hugs and kisses! Mwah!”

The phone stayed pressed to my ear for too long, the dial tone mocking my existence.

It was just two more days till my date, but I felt less confident as the days passed. A single thought passed through my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. No matter how I felt, I couldn’t cave in and call Tim. Yeah, that’s right, I was still mad at him. But was I really?

I was so sure that I was pissed beyond belief when I had to hear from Adrien that he was staying with him, but that wasn’t something that was completely out of my mind. Tim had done worse things than withhold information about someone I thought was cute.

Slowly, I lowered the phone, my fingers absentmindedly dialing his number, pausing as my finger lingered over call.

No, not tonight. I cleared out the screen before dropping it on the bakery counter, waving off my mother’s concerned look. Nobody could ruin the fact that I had a date on Saturday. Not even my own self-destructive tendencies. Adrien asked me out. He asked me out. That was a fact and no matter what Lila or Tim thought or did, it couldn’t shake that undeniable fact.

There were two days. Plenty of enough time to finish the dress I had been fiddling with the past two weeks. I will show up to this date with my head held high and my hopes higher

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Oh! Marinette what a fun surprise! You look beautiful!”

I inhaled sharply, ignoring the urge to smack the grin right off of Tim’s face.

“Timothy. Is Adrien home?” His smile faltered for a moment as he stepped out of the way, inviting me inside.

“Is this your new project? You were working on it for so long. It looks stunning!” He stumbled over his meaningless compliments as he led me to the entertainment room, my silence too much for him to bear.

“You don’t have to escort me, Timothy. I have been here a million and one times.”

I reached past Tim to open the doors, ignoring the fact that he refused to move. There was a strong temptation to just slam the door a little harder so that it would reach his nose, but a set of startling green eyes eased the feeling.

“Marinette! Oh mon Dieu, Tim was supposed to let me know when the doorbell rang so that I could greet you. I’m so sorry, I swear I really am a proper gentleman.”

“It’s okay Adrien! Really! I should’ve texted you that I arrived. I’m just so used to letting myself in.”

His smile was full of relief as it sent my heart into a flurry. Was it really possible to sit close to this man without combusting?

“Please, join me! I just figured out how to set everything up.”

Adrien motioned to the seat beside him and as I slid into the couch, I was fully aware of his arm resting behind my head. It felt nearly impossible to focus on the movie in this position. As he pressed play, my eyes glanced between him and the screen, unsure which was more deserving of my attention.

“So my friends, what are we watching?” Adrien’s arm flinched, his elbow knocking the back of my head as we both jumped from the couch.

“Tim, what are you doing here? I thought you weren’t a fan of French musicals?”

Adrien was putting it nicely, something I could admire him for since my thoughts were definitely straying to a much more violent response. Tim took a handful of popcorn, shoving it into his mouth as he slipped into the spot I had been sitting moments before.

“I usually don’t, but I figured I should get to know you both a little better and your culture of course. Don’t mind me, you won’t hear another peep.” He mockingly zipped his lips closed, his sickeningly sweet smile not quite reaching his devilish eyes.

Adrien glanced at me as if he were unsure to argue or not. I suppose he decided it wasn’t quite was worth it as he moved to sit back down, his smile shaky.

With as much might as I could muster, I shimmied in between the two guys, putting as much distance between Tim and me as I could. I felt his glare burning holes into the side of my head, but there was no way I was going to let him ruin my perfect first date with the perfect guy.

Adrien restarted the movie and for exactly five minutes, Tim kept his promise.

“Can we at least turn on the subtitles? My french is a little rusty.”

I gritted my teeth as Adrien nodded, the screen changing to fit in the white words.

“God that’s tiny, is there any way to make them larger?”

“Uhm, I’m not very sure? It took a while to figure out the controls.” A fist shot past my face, spreading in wait. Adrien looked wary as he placed the remote into Tim’s outstretched hand.

“This should do.” What was once manageable small words were now purple and taking up a third of the screen. I could feel Adrien tense up beside me, but he refused to argue.

We continued on like this for the duration of the movie. Tim would find something new to complain about making our date feel less and less romantic and more like amicable divorcees taking their child out.

“Wow, what a beautiful movie!” Tim dabbed at nonexistent tears, his smile irritating me half to death. “What’s next guys?”

“I, uhm, actually have to head back. After all, I told Maman I wouldn’t be out late.”

“Let me walk you home!” The silence was deafening as both boys traded glances with one another, daring the other to speak again.

“Enough Tim! This was my date tonight with Adrien, not you! Quit acting like some jealous boyfriend!” Both sets of eyes turned toward me, one set glowing, the other dull.

Tim closed his slack jaw before he gathered his trash, mumbling under his breath as he left.

I took a minute, watching the door to ensure he wouldn’t turn back with some dumb retort like he always did, but instead, it remained shut. I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder, urging me forward.

“I’ll walk you home Marinette.” I managed a nod as I let Adrien lead me out of the room and out of the manor.

We walked in silence for a while, his gentle touch both calming and warm in the cool October air.

“Marinette, I’m sorry. That wasn’t exactly how I planned for our first date to go. I’m not sure what was up with Tim.”

My laugh was curt as I slowed my pace, the bakery coming into view far too quickly.

“Tim is just lonely. I know that, yet I’ve been ignoring him some time for petty reasons. He just,” I paused, steps away from the windows to avoid any unwanted audiences, “he just can take the jokes too far sometimes and I can’t handle that.”

Adrien nodded as if he sort of understood what I meant, his eyes glancing to the building beside us.

“Is this your house? Do you live above the bakery?”

“Uh, yeah. There’s an apartment above with a side entrance. So I suppose, this would be my stop.” His chuckle echoed as he moved his hand from my back to brushing against my own hanging hand.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t how I imagined it would go, but can I at least end it how I planned?”

My heart was certainly ready to burst as he gently turned me until our noses were mere centimeters apart. He seemed to be waiting, his lips parted ever so slightly. This was my chance, and yet I was too mesmerized by how close he was. Could I at least nod?

Perhaps I did. The confirmation he waited for set him in motion as he closed to the slight distance between us. His lips were warm and soft and I felt as if I could melt into the sidewalk, as happy as could be.

It almost felt life ending when he finally pulled back, his smile sending my head spinning.

“I’ll see you Monday, Marinette. Goodnight.” He lifted my hand, placing a small peck against my knuckles before releasing it, turning to leave me dumbfounded in front of my own house. My eyes trailed after him, only allowing me to step toward my own home once he was just out of sight.

There was literally nothing that could ruin the high that I was on during that very moment. If only I had known what was waiting for me as I turned the knob.

“Welcome home hunny! Look who decided to stop by to see you!”

The color drained from my face as the snarky smile set off every alarm in my mind.

“Long time, no see Dupain-Cheng. I thought the first thing you would do when I got here was come and see me, but I guess that was too much to hope for now wasn’t it.”

“Chloe, you know you’ve been busy, so why are you acting like it’s all my fault?”

Her heavy, dramatic sigh reminded me exactly why I hadn’t reached out. Chloe is one my best friends besides Tim, but she can be a bit much sometimes. Imagine being so average that even when you stand next to a pillar, you make the pillar look more outstanding. Got that picture? Now imagine little old average me standing next to a three times Miss Junior World Wide pageant winner.

See? A bit much for my mental health to hang out in public with her.

“C’mon now, you know that’s not the only thing stopping you from calling. Your mother told me you had a date tonight. You finally give that Wayne boy a chance?”

I rolled my eyes as I slid into the chair across from her, the weight of the night finally hitting.

“You and I both know he’s just messing with me, mocking me if you will.” Chloe shared a look with my mother, both sighing. I knew what they were thinking, but they didn’t know Tim. He was always like that, always will be. “Besides, there was a transfer student. From Paris to be exact.”

I knew I had captured her attention as she leaned forward, her fingers intertwining before resting on the table.

“Maybe you know him. From what I gathered, he and his family are Paris elites. Adrien Agreste-”

“Mhmm, girl, drop him now.”

I paused as I waited to see if she would elaborate, but instead, she just sat back in her chair as if already bored with the conversation.

“Why should I? He’s so handsome and so sweet and we both share similarities. He’s so perfect Chloe.”

“Yeah, no.” She glanced over her pristine nails as if looking for a crack in the polish to punish. “He is a daddy’s boy and you are not his father’s type. His father will insist he marry someone that would be good for business and I’m sorry but you’re not that Marinette.”

“Marriage?” I could feel myself burning red at the implication. “We only went on one date, Chloe!”

“And it should stay that way. Trust me, he and his family are nothing but trouble for you. You should ask out Tim instead.”

“Are you done?” Chloe sighed before nodding, letting her hand fall to hit the table with an exaggerated smack. “I know that he is out of my league. Trust me, for someone so perfect like him, he needs perfect to match. In fact, I was planning on calling you soon anyway, but since you’re here..”

I trailed off, waiting for her to draw her own conclusion.

“Marinette, nobody is perfect. Stop putting him on a pedestal before you hurt yourself.”

If I weren’t mistaken, I would almost think she was concerned for me, but that just wasn’t Chloe’s style.

“So can you do it or not?”

Her sigh was long and drawn out, ending in a slight nod.

“Let’s get to it. We have a lot of work to do before Monday rolls around.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You know, I had always wondered how Lila felt walking into school every day knowing that every set of eyes was pinned to her.

Now I knew.

It was revolting. How could she walk so confidently knowing that everyone was gaping at her, certainly waiting for her to mess up? At least, that’s how it felt as people didn’t even bother to hide their broken necks as I whisked past them.

It would be a lie if I didn’t disclose that I practically dove into the safety of my homeroom before I fell into a full-blown panic attack.

“Marinette?” I stiffened as I peaked up at the boy standing in front of my desk. It had been two whole days and Tim hadn’t even messaged me, yet here he was, his mouth hanging as low as everyone else’s. “Are you wearing make-up?”

I nodded as he slipped into his usual seat, his expression shifting from surprise to one of suspicion.

“This has Chloe’s handiwork all over it. Did she stop your house or something this morning?”

“She’s staying for the next couple of weeks to avoid that shady hotel on fifth that her mom booked for her.”

Tim nodded with understanding, but not another word was spoken. It almost felt like a dagger to my heart. Where was the Tim I knew with the backhanded compliments and joke dates? Surely if a makeover couldn’t get a reaction from him, what was I expecting from Adrien?

I let out a sigh as I fell forward, my forehead resting on the cool desk. Where was Adrien anyways? He was always ten minutes early for every class. This was so unlike him.

“Oh my god! There you are Mariboo!” A shiver traveled down my spine jolting me up in my seat. There was only one person with an annoying shrill in their voice that could outmatch Chloe’s.

“Lila? You’re not even in this class. What do you want?”

Her laugh felt like listening to a cat using the blackboard as its new scratching post. I couldn’t help but flinch as she placed a perfectly manicured hand on my shoulder.

“You’re so mean Mariboo! I was coming to make sure that we were still on for lunch today! Adrikins had a photoshoot this morning but he wanted to invite all of us to eat with him on his break!”

Her enthusiasm was sickening.

“But Lila, you don’t like me-”

“Don’t like you? Babe! What is with you today? If my boyfriend asks me to bring you to lunch then that’s all I need to confirm our sisterhood.” Boyfriend. Boyfriend. I couldn’t be bothered to hide my shock as Lila’s fake smile shifted to show her more sinister and true smirk. “Yeah, Boyfriend. We went to dinner last night and he asked me there! So romantic huh? Anyways, I trust I’ll see you later then huh? Okay then! Hugs and Kisses, byee!!”

My eyes narrowed as they shifted to where Tim sat beside me, feigning ignorant to the interaction. Was this his retaliation for what I had blurted out on Saturday? I only called it how I saw it and it was Tim’s fault for pushing me that far! He was being childish at this point.

“Do you think she’s lying about Adrien asking her out?” The silence was deafening as Tim slowly lowered his forehead to the desk, his eyes shut tightly as if trying to imagine he was anywhere else than right beside me. Regardless, I tried to continue. “It has to be a lie, right? I mean Adrien said he liked me, not her! We even kissed.”

Tim’s body stiffened beside me. Of course, that would get a rise out of him, he was always overprotective about those kinds of things. Alas, my excitement was dulled as he returned to his relaxed state once more, his silence continued.

Whatever. I don’t need Tim. I can figure this out for myself. All I had to do was wait till lunch.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Oh my! You actually came! How exciting.” Lila’s smile was dripping with false elation, a hint of thrill dancing in her eyes as if she couldn’t wait for the drama to unfold in front of her. “Aidrikins, look who it is!”

Adrien wouldn’t even meet my eyes, his arm dangling lifelessly from Lila’s shoulders. If I had to guess, he wanted to be anywhere else at that moment. The thought leaked its way into a small smile.

“Why don’t you take a seat Mariboo? I have someone who wanted to talk to you. Someone who loved your little-” she paused, her nose scrunching up as she searched for the right word,”-transformation?”

I didn’t even have time to question her before I was thrown off balance, an arm forcing me into the chair at the table.

“‘Sup girl? You’re looking fine today.” Instant dread flooded my soul as I was squeezed into a damp t-shirt that I could only assume was sweat-drenched. “You don’t mind if I slide in beside you eh?”

“Kim-Get. Your. Arm. Off. Me. Now.”

“Woah, woah, c’mon little lady. Don’t be like that! You know I’ve always had a soft spot for you Marinette.”

Lila’s smile was infuriating as she watched as Kim pushed me into the open seat, his arm heavy on my shoulders.

“What is the meaning of this Lila?” Her eyes feigned innocence as she cocked her head to the side, her fingers tapping the table.

“Whatever do you mean Marinette? I’m just trying to help you get over your heart break now that Adrikins has chosen me to be his girlfriend. You know the old saying; ‘the best way to get over one is to get under another’.”

I could barely stand to let her finish before I pushed Kim away, taking off ducking so that he couldn’t reach out again. Why did I think for even a second that this would turn out okay? Did I expect Adrien to wrap me up in his warm arms and tell me she was just a joke? How stupid of me.

“Marinette?” I slowed down long enough to catch Tim’s worried gaze, the strength in my legs finally giving out as I slumped to the ground. “Marinette! What happened?”

I tried to speak, but I couldn’t seem to find my voice. I reached up absentmindely to where the warmth in my cheeks sat, recoiling at the dampness I found. Had I started crying? When did that happen?

“Here, take this.” I didn’t even bother to look up as the weight of Tim’s jacket slipped over my shoulders. He gently helped me to my feet, pulling me toward the door that led to the courtyard, a bench in view. “Can you make it to our spot?”

My voice still seemed to fail me, a nod was all I could manage. It was enough for Tim who seemed to understand. The moment the back of my knees hit the cool wood, I buckled. Tim crouched in front of me, reaching out hesitantly to brush some of the leftover tears lingering on my cheek.

“Is this because of Adrien?” The air left my lungs, my body going rigid. “This is what I was worried about Mari. He seems perfect, but the jerk was torn between you or popularity. Anyone who can’t see the right choice there isn’t deserving of you.”

“Torn between me and popularity?” My voice was hoarse, it sounded unfamiliar.

“Yeah. He had the audacity to ask for my advice as to whether or not it was worth it to date you or have friends. Can you believe that? As if Lila’s little group will still want him after his newness has worn off.”

“And what did you tell him?” Tim stiffened as he shifted his eyes away from mine. “Tim, what was your advice to him?”

“He told me to drop you because you only saw your old life in me and that you weren’t as invested in this as I was.” My body felt as stiff as Tim’s looked as we both glanced to where he stood, breathless and red, his own eyes tinging pink as if he were holding back tears himself.

“Stop.” Tim’s voice was a whisper, his hand retracting from where it had been resting on my cheek. Adrien took a step forward, holding his head higher as he looked down on the two of us.

“He told me that you always had short-lived crushes and that you longed for your old life often. So much so that when I showed up, you were more fascinated by what I could offer over who I was.”

“That’s not what I said-”

“It’s exactly what you told me! So imagine my surprise when she showed up at lunch today looking like I had pulled the rug out from under her feet. Marinette, this isn’t what I meant to happen. I like you, alot. And if you like me too, I’d want to give this a shot, truly.”

My brain felt as if it were short-circuiting. Tim had done many things in the past to thwart my crushes but he’d never put me in a situation that would hurt me. Never. Yet, when my eyes met Adrien’s, something sincere stirred, pulling at my heart.

“Tim?” His eyes shifted to mine, tears brimming at the edge threatening to spill at any moment. Was this really the face of a selfish man sabotaging me? “I want to hear it from you, Tim. What was your advice to Adrien?”

“Marinette, I already told you-” Adrien fell silent at the sight of my palm, urging him to stop. It wasn’t a lack of trust in him, it was the fact that I felt too much trust for Tim. I just knew he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, he-

“That’s more or less what I told him,” he was barely audible but I heard every word clearly as they pierced my chest. “But Marinette, I couldn’t watch him string you along anymore. You don’t know the conversations he has at night with Lila, you don’t know-”

I couldn’t imagine the face I was making right now. I couldn’t even begin to fathom a face to make in the first place. Nothing out of Tim’s mouth was making sense. Adrien was telling the truth? Tim really said that about me?

“Marinette, please listen-” my hand moved before I could think, smacking Tim’s as it attempted to rest itself back on my cheek.

“Tim.” He seemed to understand as he stood, taking a step back from where I sat. “Tim, just,-I-”

I didn’t even know what to say. Why did it hurt so bad? What was this gut-wrenching feeling? It wasn’t like this was the first time Tim had sabotaged a crush. But wasn’t it the first that he had gone this far? The first he had said such awful things to me? Right?

“I think you should leave Wayne.” There was a tense moment where the air stood still and the two boys in front of me stared each other down, daring the other to speak again. It was Tim who would inevitably give in, stepping back toward the school building without a glance back. And for some reason, that hurt most of all.

His face, what face was he making right now as he walked away? It’s the only thing I can think about, it’s monopolizing my thoughts. Tim, Tim, Tim-

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay.” Adrien pulled me forward until I was pressed into his chest, the dampness of my cheeks finally hitting. When did the tears start? Why did they start? “Marinette, I don’t know what Tim has said about me, but I really do have feelings for you. I never once faltered when it came to that. Is there any way you could give me a second chance?”

His heart was pounding. Was he nervous? I could hear the words coming out of his mouth, but I couldn’t process the meaning behind them. Was he asking me out?

“A second chance? Aren’t you dating Lila?”

“I am, but I’m not. I-I don’t care for her as I do you. It was just that Tim told me you weren’t interested and she has been asking me for weeks now. I’m sorry. I know this doesn’t look good on my part, but I swear Marinette. If you tell me right now that you will accept my request, then I’ll leave her. It’s you that I want Marinette. So what do you say?”

“I-I don’t know what to say. I mean, Adrien it was one date. Are you sure you want to throw away your relationship on one date?”

Adrien pulled back, his eyes shining as elegantly as the first time I saw them.

“I’m sure Marinette. I would be willing to bet anything on you.” Hesitantly, he reached forward, wiping the tear stains from my face, his hand remaining on my cheek. “May I?”

I couldn’t process just what he was asking, my mind still boggled with thoughts of Tim retreating. I could feel my face being pulled forward ever so slowly, his nose nearly tickling my own. Was this okay? Was it okay to allow him to steal yet another kiss? Was Tim right? Did I truly care about Adrien or was he just another crush? He paused, his lips mere centimeters from mine.

“Is this okay Marinette?”

No, Tim was wrong. Adrien was wonderful and caring and I actually liked him. This was something I decided for myself regardless of Tim’s opinions. It was my turn to close the distance between us. His lips were soft and delicate, almost hesitant as he returned the kiss. As he pulled away, my head felt dazed. It was different from the melting sensation I had felt before. This one was gentle, like a promise sealed between the two of us. It was comforting.

"Come with me Saturday,” my voice felt foreign as it slipped out of my mouth, unsure of where this surge of courage came from. “My friend has a fashion show and while it’s not the most exciting thing in the world, I’m sure it would be much better with you there.”

“If it’s with you, I’m sure it will be a blast. I’d love to come, Marinette.”

There was a pause as I registered his words in my head.

“So, like a date..right?”

Adrien’s laugh bellowed through the courtyard as he stood, offering his hand to help me stand as well.

“Exactly like a date.” He pulled my hand forward until his lips brushed over my knuckles, his warmth lingering even after he released his grip. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I need to take care of a certain someone before I can officially call you mine.”

Adrien offered a small wave before turning to jog back inside.

I remained standing, my eyes following his retreating figure. He left through the same door that Tim had, reminding me once again, that I also had someone I should take care of. But was that the case? Tim never explained himself, just upped and left after Adrien suggested he should.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t trust Adrien and what he said, it just felt wrong to watch Tim leave me, to leave my side without a word.

Maybe we both just needed some space. After all, I had no idea what I would do, what I would say if I saw him right now. I would just wait until after Saturday, after my date, after a perfect night out.

Yeah, that would be the best time.

I reached into my pocket, my fingers already dialing before my phone was even in view.

“What do you want Dupain-Cheng? Aren’t you still in class?”

“Well, hello to you too Chloe. I’m doing fine thanks for asking.” There was a deep sigh that resonated through my phone as if she was deciding if I were worth her time. Supposing I was, she clicked her tongue waiting for me to continue. “Adrien agreed to come with me to that show you’re walking in on Saturday.”

“And why would he do that?”

“I would like to assume it’s because he likes me and wants to spend time with me, but that’s just a guess. Who knows for sure?”

Chloe tsked and the line went dead before I could even say another word. I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. At least the one thing I could count on was for Chloe to remain constant.

Never mind anything else that occurred, the only thing I had to concentrate on was my date. Forget Tim, forget Lila. I had a perfect date on Saturday and that was the only thing that mattered.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“So, enjoying your backstage luxury? Honestly, you’re drooling as if you haven’t eaten in days looking at all these up-and-coming designers.”

I unconsciously wiped the drool that had seeped at the corner of my mouth as I turned in circles taking in the landscape. It wasn’t much. A bunch of thrown-together counter space and curtain dividers, but the hope and exhaustion on everyone’s face as their hard work finally came to light was what made it so fascinating for me..

“I can’t help it, Chloe. I know I told Adrien that it wouldn’t be that exciting, but to be honest, it’s so gratifying watching them. Maybe I’ll take my hobby seriously and find myself here one day. You’ll wear my designs, right Chloe?”

“Mm, you’ll have to prove to me that your designs are worth my time.” She stuck out her tongue, her eyes taunting me to retaliate. “Besides, I know this is all just a deflection Dupain-Cheng. You’re avoiding the original question I asked when you first got here.”

My body stiffened slightly as I shifted my gaze to a nearby model having their make-up fixed. Anywhere but Chloe was a good place to look seeing as the burning sensation in my skull indicated that she was most likely throwing her killer glare in my direction.

“I told you, Chloe, he said he would meet me here and he just hasn’t texted me yet.”

“That sounds like a load of bullshit to me, but whateves.” It was odd that he hadn’t called me or even shot a single text. We were supposed to meet up an hour ago but after thirty minutes of waiting and three missed calls from Chloe, I decided I would wait inside for him to contact me. “The show will be starting soon so you should try and find a decent seat. Maybe lover boy can find the guts to show up before I walk.”

I nodded before edging my way to the curtain separating the audience from the models. Peeking through, my eyes scanned for a certain blonde but alas, he still wasn’t here. I excused myself to the nearest row with two seats left, placing my purse and jacket into the empty one in hopes Adrien would fill it soon.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as the announcer jumped on stage, his enthusiastic voice failing to capture my full attention. When Chloe would ask me later if I liked the show, I couldn’t even begin to tell her what she modeled. My thoughts were elsewhere, wondering just why he never even read a single text.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I got my answer just hours after returning from Chloe’s show. In reality, I hadn’t moved from my bed, not particularly sad, just mentally exhausted. It was only after I had finally decided to brush it off as a dead battery or some freak accident, I received a text from someone I never imagined.

“Hey xinh đẹp, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, but I just couldn’t let this slide.”

Kim had attached a video, nearly a minute long. My heart jumped as I saw the screen frozen on Adrien’s face surrounded by dozens of people, Lila hanging right off of his arm. Was this why he was late? Did he go to break up with Lila? It would explain why he couldn’t answer me.

With a shaky breath, I pressed play, my heart threatening to drop at any moment.

“The fuck is this?”

“Tim?” His name almost sounded foreign in my mouth. What was Tim doing at Lila’s party?

“Leave it be Wayne.”

“Yeah Timmyboo, just leave it be.” Lila giggled as she brought Adrien’s face to hers, leaving small sloppy kisses all over his face. It almost made me sick to my stomach. That looked nothing close to breaking up.

“You told her that you were leaving this bitch! You lied to Marinette.”

“Oh c’mon Tim. Marinette’s nice and all, but her crush on me was overbearing and what was it going to give me in return? Huh?”

“She would’ve given you the world if you asked! How can you not realize that? When Marinette loves someone, she does it with her whole heart. If I had your chance, you bet your life I would never waste it like this!”

Tim… was serious. All those times, he was serious. I can’t believe I thought it was a joke when Tim was constantly pouring his heart out to me.

“Like she would ever give you a chance Wayne. Not after you made it so easy for me to get her to hate you. I’ll let her know eventually, but in reality, she has nothing. Especially compared to Lila. It’s like father always said, relationships are only good for what they can offer yo-”

Adrien never got to finish his sentence as Tim’s fist connected with his face. I could hear Kim let out a string of cusses as the video cut out. There was nothing I could do as I stared at my phone, still processing what I had seen, what I had heard. I stared until the screen blackened and all that was left was my own shocked expression.

For some reason, it didn’t hurt that bad hearing Adrien’s words. Somewhere deep inside of me must have realized that fascination with someone from where I grew up way outshined the actual connection I had made up.

“Tim,” He tried to protect me. It wasn’t just some jealous ulterior motive; Tim just didn’t want to see me hurt. And speaking of Tim, “my God, I have to find Tim!”

I pushed off my bed, racing down the stairs and out the front of the bakery. Maman glanced sideways at me as I zipped past, but she did nothing to stop me, a seemingly knowing smile plastered on her face. I’m sure I’ll deal with her teasing later, but that wasn’t the important thing at the moment.

No, the only thing that mattered was finding-

“Marinette?” My feet planted themselves, my arms involuntarily shooting out to balance myself. Before I had even turned, my heart was already jumping in my throat. “Marinette, where are you going?”

I couldn’t stop myself as I stumbled forward, my steps clumsy as I made my way to where he stood.

“Marinette? I-oof” I threw myself into Tim, my arms tightening around him in fear that if I let go, he would somehow slip away from me. He hesitated for a moment before I felt his own arms wrap themselves around me.

We stood there as seconds passed, neither speaking, just simply holding on for dear life.

“I love you.” His heart raced, reacting to my words much the same as my own. “I’m sorry for everything Tim. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize you never once were joking about your feelings for me. I’m sorry that I let a stupid boy come between me and my best friend. But most of all, I’m sorry that I never had the courage to say it sooner. I love you, Tim.”

All too quickly he pulled back, his hand rushing to his face in an attempt to cover the spreading red.

“You-ou-you-you can’t just spring that on me! I didn’t have any time to prepare. And you took away my big moment! You have no idea the demons that I literally fought to finally work up the courage to come confess! Marinette!”

I felt the giggle bubbling up as Tim attempted to compose himself, the blush ever-burning as it moved to brush against his neck.

“I guess I should add that to my apology speech too huh?”

“Yes! You should! I want a formal apology later for ruining something that I have been planning for since we were kids.”

“And what about now?” Tim cocked his head as I took a small step forward in an attempt to close the space between us. “If that’s what you want for later, what do you want for now?”

I could practically see the wheels turning in Tim’s head as he tentatively reached out, grasping my face as lightly as he could with both hands. Time seemed to stop as he pulled me forward, his breath quick and uneven, much like my racing heart.

“I want to kiss the woman I love, but only if she wants me to.”

“What a coincidence, I also was thinking that I would love to kiss the man in front of me.”

We both moved forward, our lips and teeth colliding at the same time.

“Ow!” Tim released one hand as he covered his mouth. There was a moment of silence before we both erupted, our laughter mingling as it filled the night air. “Somehow, that felt exactly like us.”

I could only nod as my laughter faded out, an ear-splitting smile taking its place.

“It’s okay though because now we can try again any time.”

Tim smiled as he leaned forward once more. “Good, because I would love to try again right now.”

His lips were soft and his kiss was gentle and described in a single word; perfect. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against my own, his heart practically jumping through his shirt.

“Is this real?”

“It is.”

I shared his sentiment. It didn’t feel real that after all this time, after everything that had happened, we had finally found our way back to each other.

I’m sorry if this wasn’t the happy ending you were waiting for. After all, I did warn you that it wasn’t your typical girl meets boy.

In the end, I never quite figured out my question; how do you survive in an extraordinary world when you’re only average? After everything, I still don’t have anything definite, but I suspect that it becomes infinitely easier when you fall in love with your best friend.

As I met Tim’s eyes in our last moments alone that night, the only thought occupying my mind was that never again would I ever let him go.

I found the person that makes my average life extraordinary and he’s always been right by my side.

“Never leave Tim, okay?” I could feel the warmth from his smile before it even appeared.

“You’re only stuck with me for the rest of your life and any time after that.”

I reached forward, intertwining our fingers, relishing in the perfect fit. This was everything I had been searching for and now it was quite literally in my grasps.

This, well this was only the beginning of our story, but that’s a tale for another time, right?

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[acquariusgb]

9/11 Hillary POV

It’s a sad day today as we remember 20 years since 9/11. Here is an extract from Hillary Rodham Clinton- A woman living history by Karen Blumenthal, talking about the events from that day.

September 11, 2001, was to be another historic day: First Lady Laura Bush was to testify about early childhood education before one of Hillary’s committees. It would be an unusual First Lady meeting. Hillary put on a bright yellow suit for the event.

She was on the phone with Ann O’Leary, her legislative director, when the first plane hit the World Trade Center. Initially, they thought it was an accident—until the second plane hit. At that point, O’Leary said, Hillary was sure it was a terrorist attack.

By the time Hillary arrived at work near the Capitol, a third plane had crashed into the Pentagon, and police were evacuating her office building. She met some of her nervous staff outside, where she tried to assure them that they would be okay and dispatched them to a staffer’s nearby home.

By then, police were trying to clear traffic, and Hillary got back in the car. One of Bill’s former advisers, Gene Sperling, happened to be nearby, and she offered him a ride. While the radio reported the grim news, Hillary frantically dialed her cell phone. First she tried to reach Chelsea. Now twenty-one and a Stanford graduate, Chelsea was staying with a friend near Union Square in Manhattan before she was to go to England for graduate school. Her mom knew she often went for a jog at that hour of the morning.

Hillary couldn’t get through. Next, the senator from New York dialed officials at the Federal Emergency Management Agency to ask about their response to the crisis.

“It was like watching her move back and forth from each role in her life minute by minute,” Sperling said. “Then suddenly, the radio announcer starts screaming, ‘Oh my God, the World Trade Tower has collapsed; oh my God, the World Trade Tower has collapsed,’ and suddenly the whole world came to a stop.”

The images of planes crashing into the towers had been horrible beyond words. But then the buildings came crashing down, killing thousands of people and remaking the famous skyline. Especially in New York City, people would look to their elected officials for assurance about their security and safety. Hillary was now on the front lines.

With so much still unknown, Hillary scrambled to get as much information as she could and to touch base with her family. She called Bill, who was in Australia for a speech. He was watching the destruction on television and wanted to know if Chelsea was okay. Though she didn’t know for sure, Hillary told him that everything was fine and not to worry.

Around the time that Hillary was calling, Chelsea had been in her friend’s apartment trying to reach her mother, but she couldn’t get through, either. Feeling an overwhelming need to reach her mom, Chelsea ran out to look for a pay phone, but there were long lines at each one. She returned to the apartment, and when her friend came back home, they followed the mayor’s advice and headed uptown.

Near Grand Central Station, people were panicking, yelling “Fire!” and “Bomb!” and running away from the terminal. Though there was no fire, Chelsea and her friend were frightened and crying. “For a brief moment I truly thought I was going to die,” she wrote later.

Chelsea was near Fiftieth Street and Madison Avenue when her mother finally got through. Just hearing her voice, Chelsea burst into tears.

After their conversation, Hillary called Bill again to tell him Chelsea was safe.

She also called Giuliani and the New York governor. She and the other New York senator, Charles Schumer, spoke with President Bush, getting his assurance that the federal government would help with the rescue process and New York’s rebuilding.

That afternoon, now wearing a more appropriate black suit, Hillary joined other senators at the Capitol Police headquarters, where they gathered to be briefed by Senate leaders. As the sun was setting, Hillary joined several hundred members of Congress on the Capitol steps. The leaders of both the House and Senate pledged their support, and called for a moment of silence. As they started to walk away, some members began singing “God Bless America,” tentatively at first, and then louder and stronger. When they finished, many lawmakers hugged. Hillary, the New York Times reported, was teary.

CNN sought her out for an interview just before President Bush was to speak to the nation. Hillary said she would stand behind the president—and she had strong language for the attackers: “Our country not only has to retaliate directly against those who perpetrated this attack, but we have to make it very clear that we cannot permit any state, any government, any institution, or individual to pursue terrorist aims that are directed at the United States or any country,” she said.

She said she expected many countries to unite behind the nation. “It’s not just an attack on the United States,” she said. “It’s an attack on everyone who cares about freedom and dignity and justice and humanity.”

After spending much of the long night on the phone, she joined the Senate the next morning to approve a resolution condemning the attack. That afternoon, she and Schumer flew from Washington to New York on a special Federal Emergency Management Agency plane. All other flights had been grounded the day before, after it was clear that four planes had been hijacked. (In addition to those that crashed into the World Trade Center and Pentagon, a fourth plane came down in a Pennsylvania field after passengers fought back against the hijackers.) On September 12, theirs was the only plane in the air, outside of Air Force fighters. At New York’s LaGuardia Airport, they boarded a helicopter to tour the damage.

The site of the World Trade Center was still smoldering and smoky as they flew over. As rescuers desperately searched for survivors below, Hillary could see the twisted girders and shattered beams where two stunning and enormous buildings had once stood.

“The TV images I’d seen the night before didn’t capture the full horror,” she wrote later. It felt like she was looking into “the jaws of hell.”

[the-slasher-files]

Hello, can i request 16 and 46 for the prompt thing with a S/o with low self steem with Bo? Please and sorry for my english 🥺🖤

OOOH ANGST!!!! I love it thank you! and honestly your English is perfect :) It’s like these 2 sentences were made for a reader x bo scenario!

So I went a little wild with this that’s why it’s a bit longer (1k plus words) but I really love how it turned out.. also Bo maybe says ‘I love you’ for the first time when he’s sober :o hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

THE KITCHEN FLOOR 

WORD PROMPT:   “I want you to be happy... even if it’s not with me” AND “Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so...”

Today was just one of those days. 

You felt your mind weigh heavy on everything you did. It badgered you every second of the day, pounding your self-esteem lower and lower with every glance in the mirror and every tug of your baggy clothes. You couldn’t escape the constant hounding and you felt almost uncomfortable sitting in your own skin; as if bugs were crawling on top of you, and as if a fire was set beneath your feet and every moment you struggled to hold yourself away from the burn. 

Bo was at his dingy garage all day and Vincent was in the basement making more creations for the town, and honestly, you never knew where Lester was at any given moment but he defiantly wasn’t in the house. This left you all alone in the reticent home, just your thoughts and heartbeat. Sure you could go down to the basement to have company with Vincent, but he never liked to be disturbed while working, and you could go to the gas station but something was blocking you in the house; your demons wanted you away from the sunlight and easing voices of the people you loved, they wanted you all to themselves today. You let them win today for you didn’t have the energy to fight it. 

As the sun faded behind the native Louisiana wood that surrounded Ambrose the voices became deafening, and Bo’s absence was louder than the voices at times. Skull crushing and heart aching. You didn’t care if it was his yelling or large footsteps creaking on the hardwood, you just needed to hear something else besides the twisted thoughts that were burning, and chugging along like a freight train threatening to run itself off track and kill the engineers. 

Bo will never love you... Bo has never thought you were beautiful... Bo hates you... hates your body... hates your love... Bo just wants some skinny perfect woman... one from his trophy wall... one better than you... one to satisfy his every need better than you ever could...    

Tears stung in your eyes painfully, as you tried to make yourself busy with dinner. Every cut of a vegetable and every stir on the bowl was becoming a burden, you felt the lump in your throat build and tears spilled out in a stream much to your dismay. Anger, frustration, sadness and pain became all too much for your psyche to handle, and in an outburst you pushed everything off the counter, carelessly letting dinner go to waste and everything around you crash and clang against the linoleum.  

Silent sobs sealed your airway and you sank to the floor slowly with your back scraping against the fridge, raking your shaky hands through your hair, tears falling wherever they pleased. Breathing seemed fleeting at this point, you felt as if you were drowning in the ocean, all alone, with sharks circling you, taunting your demise. The sobs began to become more painful and broken wails hung in the humid Louisiana air, the force and strain made it feel like you were vomiting but betrayed the fact that your throat was closing against the laments.  

Suddenly there were heavy footfalls coming towards you, it was clear as day who they were from; the give away was that the gate was a little unbalanced from the apparent stiffness Bo had always carried in his right leg. The steps stopped for a moment as he was taking in your balled up shaking frame under the flickering fluorescents of the old house. Food, utensils, bowls and plates were all scattered around you like war zone debris, and you were the broken soldier in the middle waiting for the end. You knew he was standing there but you didn’t care; he was never one for comforting you, why would he care tonight? 

“Baby... Baby girl wha- shit” Bo stuttered but quickly came to encase you in his muscular arms, groaning as he sat in front of you, his legs caged you, feeling every sob, every painful sharp inhale. “Shhh, shhh, baby it’s ok” he cooed, trying to be soothing though it went against his gruff nature. 

His warm body caging you and the unmistakable smell of gas, cigarettes, and some sort of sweet undertone to his cologne that you just couldn’t place, made your body ease enough to catch a deep breath filling your strained lungs. Opening your swollen eyes with a sting, you were somehow surprised to meet his worried stormy blues, eying you like a hawk; his intensity made you force your eyes closed, jerking your head downwards and off to the side, not wanting him to see you so broken. Stifling your cries by biting your lip hard enough to draw the coppery taste along the soft flesh, letting whine escape.

His rough fingertips gingerly caressed your wet chin, commanding you to look up at him; though Bo’s fingers were gentle, his blanketing dominance coated every movement he made effortlessly. Once again your eyes met; pain and concern clashing.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” He spoke softly letting his cigarette stained breath ghost over you. The question brought a new set of tears that started to swell up, teasing to fall through wet lashes. Bo didn’t force you to speak and he just let you catch your breath and collect your thoughts, studying every part of your face as if it was new to him. Checking for any apparent injuries that might be causing the sobs; at least that he could fix that, but no, these wounds were behind the skin, in the deep tissues of your heart and brain, strangling them.

“Bo... I just-” You weakly strained against the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry” pulling away from him you saw something dangerous flutter behind his eyes; Bo was full of his own troubles and insecurities too, and your choice of words fueled something under the surface of him, some deepness he wasn’t ready to face yet. His touch became a little tighter, slowly and agonizing like a python, squeezing the truth out of you. Your apology was out of your embarrassment for him having to see you like this, but he thought it was for cheating on him or harming someone he loved; ultimately resulting in your slow painful death. 

Before allowing his anger rise you quietly cried “Bo, baby, I’m just having a bad day... the voices in my head just wouldn’t shut up... I-I just broke” He relaxed his grip slightly and pulled you against his chest with a huff, relaxing around you. Bo was no stranger to the way you felt, he had ended up on the exact spot on the kitchen floor many times before, he was probably drunk when it happened, however, but he understood. In a strange way, you mirrored him like broken glass glued together. 

Clutching his coveralls like holding onto a lifeline you stained them with tears, as he moved his hand to cradle your skull closer to him if it were possible, carding his hand through your hair, and his other hand snaked around your waist. His warmth was welcomed but dangerous and painful, loving a broken soul like his hurt all too much; behind every kiss and pleasure, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was better off with someone else, and think about the day he doesn’t come home. Bo’s love was addicting and one day you knew it would be ripped away and you would be left scratching and clawing for any remnants that could be salvaged.   

“I- I want you to be happy... even if it’s not with me,” weeping and shaking you let your insecurities come to the light allowing Bo to see the sick but not unfamiliar thoughts. “I’m fucking broken... I’m nothing you should have, just damaged goods... You can find someone much more beautiful and stronger... I’m not what you want” 

Spilling your guts like a wounded animal begging to live Bo’s hands moved to your shoulders, now pushing you away to look at him with authority oozing off, it made you stop; thinking he was going to lose his temper, and you just waited for the yelling or for him to drag you to the bedroom. The yelling never came. The forceful grip of his large hands never appeared. Just his eyes hardened on you, the blue becoming dark and foreboding, like the black sea that has swallowed a thousand ships.

“Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so...” He begged then allowed his fortified walls to come down for a brief moment worried you would shatter him completely, “You’re my everything baby... Why don’t you see that?” his voice broke at the vulnerability. The knights were down, off their posts and able to rest after 20 some years of being serviced, taught and berated. This was like a searing knife to his core, slipping between the bones and waiting for it to be yanked out and have him bleed out on the linoleum, alone. “I- I love you.” 

Those words, the three words he spoke echoed loud and clear in your brain. The only time he had ever said it was after 5 beers and sloppy sex. Bo was sober tonight and he was painfully aware of it. He said it without flinching or moving his gaze from yours. This is the moment you waited for, after almost 2 full years of rage, blood, tears, love, fights, and pain; it was out there crystal clear. Of course, you had hoped it would be on a scenic hill looking out at the night sky, with your fingers interlaced and shallow breaths matching each other in perfect harmony; not on the cold floor with glass and destruction around you, brokenly clutching one another. However, you were going to take what you could get.    

Tears began to flow again but for a whole different reason, as you cupped his strong square jaw, running your thumb on the long jagged scar he carried with grace. “Bo Sinclair, I love you too.” He crashed his lips against yours, his hands were everywhere on you, he craved you, he needed you as much as he did the oxygen to breathe.