#although he is toxic earlier on god i want to punch him

[sehunosh]

So I remembered Igarashi Tora existed

[amyscascadingtabs]

don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you [chapter 1]

“Actually, I want to add one more rule.” “Yeah?” Jake leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head and flexing his biceps through the green shirt with a smug grin. “You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.” "Won't be a problem."

Amy Santiago doesn't date cops. Jake Peralta's sworn never to date a lawyer again. When a couple of drinks and the returning of a borrowed shirt ends with the two of them in bed together, Amy decides to take control of the situation the best way she knows how: a comprehensive set of rules. There's just one little thing she hadn't anticipated – Jake Peralta is full of surprises.

Written for the B99 Summer 2021 Fic Exchange.

AO3 link // playlist

My contribution to this year’s fic exchange, for @fezzle​! @b99fandomevents​​ 💛

1. i never saw you coming (and i’ll never be the same)

 He gets out of the car, and before Amy can gather the courage to shout after him, he’s disappeared from her sight.

She leans her forehead against the steering wheel, squeezing her fist and punching it in frustration. It doesn’t feel better, just makes her hand hurt. Amy pretends that’s what’s making her eyes tear up, and not the thought that she just screwed up her chances of ever seeing Jake Peralta again.

 five months earlier.

 The cop is five minutes late entering the courtroom, and Amy vows to dislike him from that point onward.

 What's worse is that he doesn't seem ashamed. He simply gives Judge Stewart an apologetic grin, runs a hand through his already messy hair, and sits down on the bench next to the sergeant Amy recognizes as Terry Jeffords. Amy gives him a polite faked smile to tell him she's noted this presence and she's going to win this case, but the cop doesn't seem to notice the toxicity in her facial expression, because she gets another wide grin back. Judging from the colorful marks on his teeth, it looks like he had candy for breakfast – could it be gummy bears? Either way, Amy's respect for the man sinks even lower.

 At least she won't have to worry about him, she tells herself. She already knows this case is about to be a win.

 That is until it turns out this man has a reply for everything. She’d been certain the evidence against her client was circumstantial at best, nowhere near enough to get him convicted on, and the notes she’d gone through from the initial police questioning had lacked significant information. It had been nothing short of sloppy, and she’d entered the courthouse this morning filled with glowing confidence. That same confidence is now seeping away, dripping onto the polished floors of the courtroom in exchange for heated frustration as it turns out the detective – Jake Peralta, she learns – was present at the scene earlier than Amy had gathered, and from the vantage point he had, saw her client running from the corner store at full speed.

“Would you say it’s possible my client was running for a different reason?” She asks, staring coldly into the detective’s eyes as she speaks. “Such as exercising, perhaps?”

“Well, he was carrying a huge green backpack, identical to the one he was wearing when my partner Charles caught him ten minutes later. So, no,” he says, meeting her look with a smug smile of his own. “I would say that’s unlikely.”

“But not impossible?”

“Considering we also found the stolen goods in that same backpack, I’d say the chance is pretty solid it was him.”

“The bags couldn’t have been switched? Or, as my client claims, the goods couldn’t have been dropped in there by someone who wanted to get rid of them?”

“With all due respect,” says Jake Peralta, and the self-assuredness in his voice is enough for her to know the case is lost. “The streets were more crowded than a Taylor Swift concert, your honor. Someone would have seen something.”

 ~

 It’s late Friday afternoon by the time Amy returns to the office of Newsom & Associates, but there’s still plenty of her coworkers left to watch as she throws her briefcase on top of the chair before closing the door to her office and digging out her pack of shame cigarettes from the bottom drawer of her desk. The only window in the room opens out to a back alley with trash cans and forgotten bikes, which is a drab view most of the time but comes in handy for secret shame-smoking. She closes her eyes and leans back against the wall, trying to savor the first inhale. She hates the habit and always tells herself she’s going to quit soon, but at times when work stresses her out like this, there’s no better fix. It’s all Jake Peralta’s fault, anyway. He’d waved at her when they’d left the courtroom, looking genuinely pleased to see her, and that had only worsened her frustration. It’s one thing being defeated – it’s worse when the winner acts like it wasn’t even a big deal.

 “You should stop that.” The sound of Rosa’s voice appearing in the doorway to Amy’s office causes her to inhale too much smoke, coughing and tearing up as she hurries to extinguish the cigarette butt on the windowsill. “It’s gross.”

“I needed it,” Amy coughs again before drying her eyes with the sleeve of her blazer. “You should’ve been there. That fucking detective ruined my defense.”

“So? It happens. Doesn’t make you a bad lawyer. Stop pitying yourself.”

“You’re just saying that because you win nearly all your cases,” Amy mumbles. “And everyone’s terrified of you.”

Rosa does a little shrug, but Amy thinks she can spot the hint of a smile on her lips. She can’t be certain, though. Rosa almost never smiles, but that’s not nearly the most terrifying thing about her. She also rides her motorcycle to court and wears leather jackets and skin-tight black jeans to trials, and somehow no one's ever dared to police her on it. Amy once asked her out of curiosity if putting on a blazer would really hurt that much, and the stare she got back told her she’d be a fool to make that mistake again.

“Either way, it's not that. It was that cop who ruined everything. I mean, he showed up late, for god’s sake, with candy in his teeth and a wrinkled suit! But he somehow had an answer and explanation for everything,” Amy snorts. “And he smiled the whole time like he’d already won. And he referenced Taylor Swift! During the trial! Who does that?”

Rosa lets out a laugh. “You're a Swift hater? God, please don't tell me you took Kanye’s side too.”

“I didn't – that's beside the point!”

“Which is?”

“That he has zero respect for the sacred rules of a courtroom, and gets away with it all because of that super-charm smile.”

“Yeah, you mentioned the smile. Twice.”

“It was just so…” She clenches her fist until her red nails press into her palm to the point of pain, then releases it. “It's fine. I’ll win my next case, and there are lots of cops in New York. I probably won't ever see him again.”

 ~

 Amy can barely hide her frustration in court the next week when she hears the doors open and looks up from the papers she was sorting, only to see Jake Peralta for the second time in her life. He’s on time today, which she supposes is progress, but there are stains on his shirt that seem to be coming from the can of orange soda he’s holding in his hand. She wonders if it's his breakfast. If that's his diet, he looks surprisingly fit in a grey suit for it.

 He grins again when he sees her, raising his hand in a lazy wave. Amy gives him a forced smile, then returns to her papers. She’ll have to make sure to win this time.

 But despite her confidence and very best efforts, she loses to Jake Peralta yet another time.

And another.

And another.

 It's not that she's suddenly magically unlucky, because she still manages to win several other cases, but every time Jake Peralta shows up to testify, without fault, Amy loses.

It infuriates her.

 The worst part is that Jake seems oblivious to her anger. He smiles at her every time they leave the courtroom, even though she returns them with little to no genuineness at all. She once spots him doing a childish victory gesture outside the courthouse, but he never once takes the opportunity to brag about his win to her face.

 Aside from his surprisingly good manners when it comes to bragging, though, he's a mess. There's always some kind of stain on his shirt or his cheek that he seems unaware of, his ways of describing things involve one too many pop culture references for Amy’s liking, and she starts preparing to meet him every time a detective is five minutes late. She wonders if no one's ever told him how one is supposed to behave in a courtroom, but he’s usually accompanied by the precinct’s sergeant, so that seems unlikely. The more likely option, Amy figures, is that he just doesn't seem to find it that important; especially considering he seems to get away with it every single time.

 She swears it's all because of that stupid infectious smile.

 ~

 It pleases Amy to no end when she learns that Jake Peralta is going to be the witness in one of the strongest cases she’s had in a long while. The client was clearly acting in self-defense, she has a witness of her own who can testify to that, and although she knows that nothing is for certain until the verdict falls, she’s got a good feeling about this one. Finally, the day has come for Jake Peralta to watch her win.

 At first, the state attorney’s case seems solid. Jake is assisted by a short, round-faced man with dark brown hair and an expression that looks like he’s seconds away from apologizing for taking up everyone’s time, but his suit is matched and perfectly straight and he gets right to the point without any odd references, so Amy still earns a fair amount of respect for detective Charles Boyle. He and Jake had entered the subway car after hearing about a fight taking place, and stepped on just in time to watch her client aim a closed-fist punch at the face of the man on top of him. It’s clear and convincing, but Amy knows that after the recess, it will be her time to shine. She loves these moments, when it’s obvious the other side thinks they have it in the bag but she knows something they don’t, and they have no idea what’s coming. She knows trials are about justice and not personal victories – but she’s only human. Winning is always a thrill.

 She’s thinking about how she’s going to be celebrating her win later this evening when Jake Peralta bumps into her at the coffee shop neighboring the courthouse. As in, literally bumps into her, with his elbow when he hurries forward to grab a plastic cup with whipped cream and so much caramel syrup on top of the coffee that Amy pities his dentist.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry… wait, it's you!” He shines up as if he’d just seen a past good friend, and Amy’s once more taken aback by how polite he is. A lot of cops she meets during trials either tend to make fun of her profession or glare bitterly at her from a distance, but Jake's doing neither. He even reaches out his free hand to shake hers, so she accepts. “Jake Peralta – wow, you have a very firm handshake.”

“I took a seminar. Amy Santiago.”

“Where?” He asks, but she ignores him and moves forward in line to order her coffee with milk.

“Nothing for your client? Wow. I’d expected you to have better manners than that, Santiago.”

“I offered, but he wanted to spend recess with his partner for moral support. See?” She raises a brow at him. “I do have manners.”

There's that smile again, up close this time, and Amy's relieved when the barista hands her the coffee so she can hide the involuntary blush in her cheeks. She never noticed he had dimples before.

“So, how are you feeling about the rest of the trial, then? Ready to go defend the guilty guy?”

“Innocent until proven guilty, Peralta. Famously one of the most sacred principles in the American justice system. And I was born ready.”

“And lose. The whole question was, are you ready to go defend the guilty guy and lose, and you said you were born that way.” Jake grins in a way that makes him look like an overgrown mischievous school kid. Maybe not that far off, Amy thinks.

“Twist my words all you want, I am winning this case.” She hesitates for a moment, noticing Jake's detective partner looking at the two of them from a table in the corner of the room. Not normally something she'd be that creeped out by, if it hadn't been for the fact that the man isn’t tearing his eyes away from them, and he looks weirdly overjoyed. “Uhm, is detective Boyle okay? He's staring at us pretty intensely.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, he has… an eye condition.” Jake turns around and mouths something that looks to be BOYLE, and the man rolls his eyes before stalking away. “Ignore him. Anyway… so what do you think about the judge?”

 Amy's about to launch into a description of her good experience with judge Myers when someone brushes past her with their iced coffee in a hurry, losing control of the plastic cup. The unsecured lid wobbles, and before Amy realizes what’s about to happen, cold coffee splashes onto her earlier pristine white blouse. “Fuck!” She reaches for a bunch of paper napkins and tries to dab the worst away with them, but the milky coffee is already seeping through the fabric and leaving an obvious stain that her blazer can’t hide.

“What a jerk,” Jake mutters, glaring in the direction of where the stranger disappeared.

“Never mind that! I don’t have another shirt! I can’t go into a courtroom looking like this! Unlike you, I actually care about whether my clothes have giant stains on them!”

“First of all, rude, and second of all, they’re not giant.”

“I don’t care. I’m screwed. Fuck, I don’t have time to run back home before the trial starts – I guess I could call Rosa –”

“Hey, hey.” Jake holds up his hands as if trying to calm her down, which only makes Amy more frustrated. “I know this is kind of crazy, but, I have a shirt in my car that I was planning to return to my ex. But emphasis on ex, so…” He shrugs. “You could borrow it?”

 Amy considers her options. On the one hand, she figures there’s about an eighty percent chance that whatever Jake has in his car also has some kind of mysterious stain on it, but on the other hand, she took the subway today and there's no way she’ll make it to her apartment and back before the court is back in session. Asking for a longer recess is an option, but making everyone wait simply because she needs a change of clothes makes her too uncomfortable to even consider.

“Fine,” she relents. “Where's your car?”

 Jake's car turns out to be an old Mustang, which Amy can tell even from her strictly limited car-knowledge is pretty impressive, but she doesn't understand how he can find anything in there. The backseat is a mess of empty orange soda bottles, a couple of frisbees, candy wrappers, what looks to be cartoons and old CDs, and the cup holders have shaving foam next to another can of orange soda. She's equally surprised and impressed when he pulls out a clean, dark blue charmeuse blouse. Whoever Jake's ex-girlfriend was, she seems to have both taste and money.

“You're totally saving my day today,” she says as he gives it to her. “You really didn't have to.”

“Prove that cops aren't all bad?” Amy rolls her eyes, and Jake laughs. “Just kidding. You have to give it back, though.”

“As soon as I’ve washed it. Wait, we have to be able to get in touch.” She digs in the inside pocket of her briefcase and pulls out two of her business cards. “I’m assuming you don't have any, so write your number on the back of that one.”

“Rude, but correct.” He scribbles down something on one of the cards before giving it back. “I’ll see you up there, then… Amy Santiago.”

Something about the way he says her name, slowly and with perfect pronunciation, makes her want to hear it again. She hurries back into the building and toward the bathrooms, hopefully before he can tell that she's blushing.

 “The defense may call the next witness.”

“The defense calls Elinor Simons.” Amy can feel everyone's eyes on her as well as the witness as a young girl, no more than eighteen, walks up to the stand. She's pale, but she looks determined, and Amy gives her a comforting smile as she swears the oath.

 Elinor’s voice trembles at her first words, but Amy keeps steady eye contact with her, and soon she’s speaking louder and less hesitant. She had been on her way to her friend’s house when she entered the same subway car as the two young men, and had overheard the two of them fighting over something. Sitting only a few seats away from them in the near-empty car, she’d noticed the defendant looking scared, and out of curiosity, had turned off her music. She’d heard the man who’d later gotten attacked – Mr. Lorentz – scream that the defendant was an asshole, and then she’d seen him push him to the floor, much unlike the way the prosecution had described a course of events in which both men had slipped. It had scared her, so she’d gotten up to walk away, but before she could move she’d seen Mr. Lorentz leaning down.

“It looked like he was about to hit the defendant,” she says without wavering, and Amy can see a few of the jury members nodding in understanding. “And even if they were about the same size, Mr. Lorentz looked really strong. The defendant tried, but it seemed to me like he was unable to get up. I remember thinking this wasn’t going to end well, so I headed for the end of the car before they noticed me.”

“And you’re sure of what you saw?”

“Completely sure. I only found out later that the defendant was a cousin of my sister’s boyfriend, which is how I learned about the trial.”

Amy nods and clasps her hands together, trying to assume a confident stance as she keeps her eyes focused on the witness stand. “Elinor, in the position he was in, do you believe that the defendant would have been scared?”

“I think anyone would have been.”

“So the punch witnesses watched the defendant throw, could it have been in self-defense?”

“Yes. Yes, I think so.”

Amy smiles. “Thank you. No further questions.”

 The prosecution’s closing arguments are short and precise, sticking entirely to the part of the events that took part after the police walked in. The district attorney, a balding man in his fifties, as good as overlooks Elinor’s testimony in favor of focusing in on detailed descriptions of the headaches Mr. Lorentz had experienced after the event, and that alone is enough to make Amy’s blood boil; but instead she just sits there, waiting with a polite smile on her lips.

 Finally, the other attorney sits down, and the judge nods at Amy to stand up. During her very first trials, this moment used to freak her out – everyone’s eyes on her and waiting expectantly – but with time she’s come to love this. It reminds her of the thrill of getting the last word in a heated fight with her siblings when she was younger, only now, she doesn’t have to shout to be heard. Everyone’s already listening.

 “Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury: it’s correct that the defendant hit Mr. Lorentz on that train. He admits to doing so himself.” Amy nods to the young man sitting next to her, fidgeting nervously with the cuffs on his shirt. “But there is one key aspect which the prosecution has so conveniently chosen to ignore, and that is the events which led up to Mr. Petersen’s actions. A background which he not only has explained clearly himself, but which is also backed up by Ms. Simmons’ testimony.” She gestures with her hand to Elinor.

“You see, Mr. Petersen wasn’t acting unprovoked. When the incident happened, he had been pushed to the floor, and like both my client and the witness described, he was unable to get up. Mr. Lorentz himself admits to practicing weightlifting; he’s not a weak man, and in the moment, he was clearly upset with the defendant. As Ms. Simmons put it… “ She takes a break to gather the attention of everyone in the room. “Anyone in that position would have been terrified.”

“Under New York Law, Penal Law paragraph thirty-five point fifteen, a person is justified in using physical force against another, when that person is under the reasonable belief that the physical force is necessary to defend the person from what they reasonably believe to be the illegal imminent use of force or the illegal use of force. Mr. Petersen was stuck, and under the reasonable belief that Mr. Lorentz could hurt him unless he managed to free himself. He acted in self-defense, which I remind you that the prosecution has not been able to disprove. In fact, the case against Mr. Petersen cannot be proved against reasonable doubt, which means that you must find him… not guilty.”

 From the other side of the room, she swears she can feel Jake’s eyes on her. When she looks up, she sees him mouthing nice job.

 ~

 “What did you say he looked like, now again? Except for crazy hot and adorable?” Kylie takes another sip of her mojito, spying over the crowded bar.

“Okay, I said neither of those things.”

Kylie shrugs. “Didn’t have to.”

“Ugh. Whatever. Brown hair, brown eyes, medium height, I guess kind of a bigger nose… and I don’t know what he wears outside of court, but there was a leather jacket in the front seat of his car, so maybe that?” She strains her neck to try and see through the Friday night crowd. She’s never been to this particular Brooklyn bar before, but Jake had suggested it when Amy asked about a good place to give him back the shirt, and she’d figured after a long week, she might as well treat herself to a couple of after-work drinks with a friend. After being asked about the so-called mystery hottie five times, though, she’s starting to regret bringing Kylie along.

“Mm, that’s like, all the guys in here… oh, wait, that one’s waving to you!” Kylie points to a figure near the door, elbowing Amy in the side and causing her to nearly choke on her wine. She’s still coughing when Jake walks up to them, trying to offer him a smile while drying her eyes. Jake looks politely confused, but shakes Kylie’s hand in the meantime.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she says with a meaning wink to Amy before sliding off the leather barstool, leaving it for Jake. “Have a good night!”

“Ignore her.” Amy sighs. “Sorry, I…”

“No, no worries,” Jake says, and the honest care in his expression makes her feel oddly warm. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” She waves a dismissive hand and picks up the dry-cleaning bag hanging on the back of her chair. “Well, here’s the shirt. Thank you for the loan. Or thank your ex, I suppose.”

“Dry-cleaned, really? You truly are type A.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, it makes sense.” He nods to the glass in her hand. “Celebrating Tuesday’s win?”

“Something like that. It was Monday, though,” she can’t stop herself from correcting him. “I don’t get a lot of time off. Gotta make the best out of it.”

“Yeah, me neither. Do you mind if I join you for another drink? Or maybe you should do water, in case you choke again?”

Something about the way he poses it like a challenge makes her take the glass, put it to her lips, and swallow the rest of the wine in one gulp. “I think I can handle it.”

 They pay for their own drinks, because whatever this meeting is, it’s definitely not a date, and it makes Amy relieved that Jake doesn’t seem to think so either.

“A toast,” he suggests. “To your win this week. I gotta give it to you, those closing statements were solid.”

“To justice,” Amy says, and they raise their beer bottles in unison. “And my win. Finally.”

“Yeah, what has it been, like, five wins for me?”

“Four, but dream on, Peralta.”

Jake laughs. The dimples in his cheeks become even more prominent when he laughs, Amy notes. “Have you always been this intense about winning cases, then? Or is it something that comes with law school? Like there’s a class in being petty about this stuff?”

You’re intense too, she thinks, but doesn’t say it out loud. “Maybe. I have seven brothers, and I was the only girl. I got pretty good at winning fights using other things than physical strength when I was a kid. Actually, sometimes physical strength, too.”

“I feel like you could beat someone up if you wanted to. You could surprise them.”

“Oh, I could most definitely beat someone up if I wanted to. But I stuck to arguing. I got good at it. And I always had good grades, so I ended up at Columbia, and I’ve never really regretted it.” She takes a swig of her beer. “Not even when cops call me the devil.”

“I wouldn’t call you the devil,” Jake says. “I mean, do I think you lack a bit of a moral compass? Probably. But each to their own.”

She leans her head a little bit to the side, eyeing him closely. “Why do you think that?”

“Well, you have to defend people that you know did awful things, right? Doesn’t that make you feel sick sometimes?”

“I don’t have to defend their actions. Most times, it’s not even about that. It’s about making sure the trial is fair, the evidence is sufficient and their rights are respected, so that if there’s a conviction, it’s actually beyond any reasonable doubt. I like to believe most people are better than their worst moments. I see it as my job to make sure they’re treated that way.”

“Huh.” Jake nods slowly. “Guess I never thought of it that way.”

“Plus,” she winks, “someone’s gotta hold you guys accountable, right?”

“Fine.” He shakes his head. “Hey, did you say you went to Columbia? My captain’s husband teaches law there. Did you ever have a Kevin Cozner?”

“No way! Your captain is Raymond Holt?” She’s speaking way too loudly, she can tell from the way other people are glancing at her, but Jake looks entertained. “Sorry, it’s just – Professor Cozner was my favorite constitutional law teacher. I still send him and Raymond Christmas cards every year!”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” Jake grins. “But, how weird is that? Almost like the universe is bringing us together or something.”

Amy thinks that it’s not that weird, since Kevin must teach hundreds of students every year that g on to become lawyers, but she kind of wants to keep seeing that smile on Jake’s face forever, so she nods. “So weird.”

 They order another drink, plus some chips and nuts when Jake realizes he forgot to eat dinner, and move to another table in the back of the room. Amy’s surprised how comfortable she feels in his presence. It’s like she can’t wipe the smile off her face but doesn’t want to, and with time and a little more alcohol, jokes that she barely would have noticed on any other day become laugh-out-loud funny. It feels natural, even though she’s not sure how, and she tries not to glance at the clock on the wall when he doesn’t either. She’s got work to do tomorrow and she can’t stay out forever, but she doesn’t want to be reminded that this evening has to end at some point.

 “So what made you become a cop, then?” She asks when she realizes she’s the only one who’s shared her origin story tonight. “Childhood superhero dreams?”

Jake shines up like he’s been waiting for the question all night. “Oh, that’s easy. Die Hard.”

“Really?”

“For sure. Actually, my mom said I was always good at protecting people, so I ended up doing it for a job. But I think that’s bullshit. It was definitely Die Hard.”

“I’ve never seen it,” Amy confesses, and Jake stares at her like she just insulted his entire being. “But if you want a cop movie, my top three’s Training Day, Lethal Weapon, and Fargo.”

“Wrong, wrong, and wrong! How can you not have seen Die Hard? It’s classic, man!”

“I just never did! How many lawyer movies have you seen, then?”

“Uhm…” Jake squints. “Charles made me watch Legally Blonde once? It was pretty good, honestly.”

“Well, duh, that movie is a cinematic masterpiece and a feminist work of art. How feminist is Die Hard, from a scale of one to ten?”

“Hey! Holly Gennaro does plenty of cool stuff throughout the movies! You’re just going to have to watch them yourself.”

“I can almost guarantee you I won’t.”

“Fine, but you’re missing out.” He grabs a couple of peanuts from the jar between them, throwing them in the air and catching them in his mouth. “Cool trick, right?”

Amy raises an eyebrow. “Is this what you do at work all day?”

“I did teach myself that during stakeouts, but no. Whatever. Throw me another one.” She does, and he catches it again, this time almost sliding off the barstool in the process. She laughs a bubbling laugh as he does it another time. “Now you.”

“Fine. Try me.” The peanut flies through the air between them, and she tries to dive for it, but it just ends up landing at her feet. “Okay, another one.” She misses that one too. “Okay, there must be something wrong with these nuts.”

“Title of your sextape.”

“Title of my what?”

“Nevermind.” Jake laughs. “You just need some practice. Maybe at work? It could liven up a trial.”

“Nuh-uh, don’t need practice. Just need a better tactic.” Without thinking, she grabs a handful of them this time, throwing them in the air. This time, she catches a few of them in her mouth, while the rest end up spread over the couch and floor. “The key is volume!”

“Yeah, and the bartender is looking at you like he wants to kill you, so maybe don’t do it again or we’ll get thrown out.”

“It’s fine, I’m a lawyer.”

“That phrase works well to get out of trouble?”

“If you know what you’re doing. We could order more drinks to keep him happy?”

“Shots?”

“I’m down if you’re down.”

 Jake orders a Kamikaze shot for each of them, and as she reaches forward to take the second glass, her hand brushes against the top of his for a moment longer than necessary, resting there. It’s warm, and it feels calloused but somehow soft at the same time. They look at each other, his light brown eyes staring into hers, and she feels instantly hyper-aware that they’re around far, far, too many people.

She lets go of his hand, taking the shot and swallowing it before anyone can notice what’s happening. It smells like sour hand sanitizer and burns going down, and she laughs at Jake’s grimace when he drinks his.

“God, every time.” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, I know this is crazy, but… do you maybe want to get out of here? We could have another drink at my place… watch Die Hard… whatever.”

“Mm, yeah. Maybe I should check that the shirt gets back to your place properly?”

“Shirt? What shirt? Oh, right, fuck, the shirt!” Jake spins in place, rushing back to the table where they were just sat. “Shit, I probably spilled beer on it, Sophia’s going to be pissed now...”

“It’s still in the bag, smartass.” Amy shows him. “Ta-da. Shirt’s still clean. Comes in handy being type A sometimes, huh?”

Jake sighs. “I know you're making fun of me, but I could seriously kiss you right now.”

 Maybe it’s the four drinks, maybe it’s the thrill that comes with how rarely she does this, or maybe it’s just sheer and wild impulse, but Amy finds herself whispering,

“Maybe we should get out of here, then.”

 ~

 Amy learns a lot of things that night.

 She learns that Jake Peralta is a seriously good kisser, tasting faintly of orange soda beneath the alcohol and salt, and that being pressed against his front door with his hands protecting her head strikes the perfect balance between feeling adventurous and safe. She learns that he’s never really quiet, soft moans and sighs filling the room in the breaks between their kisses, but that the sound only makes her want more.

 She learns that he wears even more layers than her. Beneath the leather jacket and hoodie is a checkered blue flannel that has way too many buttons for her liking right now, and she curses her slight tipsiness while working at them one by one. When she's finally done, Jake pulls the grey t-shirt over his head, and she barely has time to pause to admire how he somehow can look fit despite that catastrophic diet, or the curls on his chest that are begging for her to run her fingers through them, before he's asking “my turn?”. She learns that Jake Peralta is impatient, that his hands work fast on the buttons of her cerise shirt, and that he gets adorably confused when he can't find the button on her suit pants.

“It's on the side,” she tells him and shows him the zipper, and then they're both giggling until she kisses him like that and it's back on again.

 She learns that his hands feel good, sliding slowly up the sides of her stomach and back and rubbing against her shoulder blades. She unclasps the white t-shirt bra for him, smiling to herself as he swallows quickly.

“God, you’re hot,” he whispers, and the soft bites he trails down her chest and stomach make her feel that way, too.

 They move to his bed, leaving a trail of clothes behind them, and then she’s underneath him and breathing hard as his mouth moves lower, closer. The anticipation of it all is driving her mad, but then he looks up at her and asks “okay?” with the most sincere and caring expression, and Amy’s had very, very few one-night-stands in her life, but she’s certainly never had one like this.

“Okay,” she nods, and there’s that familiar grin again, but this time it makes her feel warm in a very specific place.

 She learns that Jake Peralta can do a whole lot more with his mouth than talking people’s ears off. His breath ghosts over her through her underwear at first, warming her up even though it’s barely even necessary, and then he’s finally pulling down the black material and helping her kick them off. His tongue is careful at first, just tasting her as if to gauge her expression, but then she nods at him to continue and the next second, her head is thrown back as she lets out a gasp.

 She learns that he likes it when she pulls his hair. At first, her hands are just lightly tangling in it for practicality, but then she holds on tighter as a means of control when her legs begin to tense up and the familiar pressure is starting to rise. She’s raising her hips slightly only to lower them again, helping him get her there, and the curls of his hair are just begging to be pulled.

“Do that again,” he pauses to say, so she tugs his hair harder and he straight-up moans.

 She learns that he can make her scream, which she wasn’t expecting, and she rocks through the euphoric waves and pants and practically melts into the bed as she comes down from it.

“That good?” He winks, and she wants to roll her eyes, but he did just make her come harder than she remembers doing in a long time, so she kisses the smile off of him instead, tasting her arousal on his lips.

She learns that he's respectful and a gentleman, telling her that they can stop this here if she'd rather, but she doesn’t want to, and they don’t. He has to rifle through the drawer in his bedside table for a while before he finds a condom – maybe he doesn’t do this as often as she’d thought, maybe it’s another sign of his poor organization skills, but he finds one soon enough so she’s not sure she cares – and then it’s a little bit of a blur, but she rolls it on him with precise strokes and lowers herself on top of him and oh my god.

 She learns that when he looks at her, when he touches her, it makes her feel powerful and special all at once. He plays with her boobs as she sets the pace, his thumbs rolling against her nipples in a way she didn’t realize she liked, and she picks up her rhythm, clenching around him and leaning back on his raised thighs.

 She learns just how enjoyable it is to watch him fall apart underneath her. His pace stutters and he curses, groaning a confession of how close he is, and she could almost come again from watching him alone but she brings two fingers to her clit and touches herself anyway. He finishes before her, spilling out inside the condom with a moan that she can only imitate, collapsing against his chest as she brings herself to orgasm again right after him.

 When they're done learning, they collapse together in his bed. For a moment, Amy considers turning around and calling a cab home, because that would be the most responsible thing to do, but then Jake throws an arm around her to pull her closer, and after all, she's still a little tipsy.

What harm could it possibly do, anyway?

 ~

 Sharp, unforgiving morning light wakes Amy up before her alarm the next morning. She must have forgotten to close the blinds last night, she thinks, and rolls over on the other side so the light doesn't hurt her eyes. She expects the usual greeting of a sea of pillows, and has to stop herself from letting out a yelp of surprise when instead, she's hit with a wall of Jake sleeping with his back to her. A vague memory of them falling asleep like this hits her. He’d wanted to be the little spoon, she remembers.

 At first, knowing that intimate fact about him makes her feel proud. Then it makes her panic.

 She jumps out of bed, throwing off her part of the comforter in search of her clothes. She finds her underwear and bra together with her shirt, trying to dress as quietly as possible, quick before Jake wakes up and discovers that she's half-naked in his apartment and they have to have a very, very awkward talk –

“Amy? What are you doing?”

Too late.

 She freezes on the spot, chewing on her lip as she fumbles for an explanation. Jake’s eyes rake over her with curiosity, which somehow feels a lot more exposing today than it did last night, and it's making her lose track of her words. His bed head curls and disoriented smile is decidedly not helping her focus.

“We slept together last night,” she manages.

Jake’s smile grows wider and prouder as he sits up fully in bed. Amy blushes as she notices the shadow of two hickeys way too close to his neck to be professional.

“Yeah, I was there.”

“Very funny.” She sees her pants thrown across the back of a massage chair and quickly reaches for them. “But this… You know this can’t be a thing, right? Just so we're on the same page about it.”

Jake frowns. “What do you mean with a thing?”

“This – us – we can't date, Jake. I know that. You know that.”

He’s silent for a moment before he fakes a shudder. “Yeah, yeah, no. I’ve dated lawyers before. Never ends well.”

“You have?” The reveal surprises her. “It doesn't matter. This can’t happen.”

“I know.”

“Good,” she exhales. “I’m just going to find my clothes, then, and then I’m going to leave.”

“Hey, wait.” He twists his hands together, bringing them to his chin with a smile. “This is going to sound weird, but… even if nothing can happen between us, I’m still glad we had sex last night.”

 The confession takes her by surprise, and Amy wonders again if she just doesn't know anything about one-night-stands. Sleep together, have fun, sneak out in the morning before anything can go deeper – isn't that how it's supposed to go? If so, she's majorly failing, because she can't stop herself from giving him another shy smile in return.

“Me too. Just because, we were like… really good at it.”

“Stupid good!” Jake exclaims. “It makes no sense!”

“We still can't date, though,” she reminds him. “So how do we work this out?”

“Well, it sort of looked like you were planning to just leave, and I’m not going to stop you if that's your choice, but… there is one more option.”

“What are you thinking?”

“We could be friends with benefits,” he shrugs. “None of the commitment, none of the weird incompatibilities between a cop and a lawyer, just us and some stupid good sex.”

“Friends with benefits? Do the kids really say that, still?”

“I’m saying you could consider it.”

 Amy's first instinct is to protest, to say absolutely not and leave on the spot. Her relationship history may not contain that many names, but at least they’ve all been fairly straightforward and conventional. She's never done something like this before, and the mere idea of jumping into something so unknown with someone like Jake scares her shitless.

 Then again, she's also never been with someone like Jake. Yesterday hadn't been a date, but it had still been better than all the awkward dinners and half-hearted walks she's been at since she broke up with Teddy a year ago. And the sex – well, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't already thinking of doing that again.

 “There would need to be rules,” she says.

“Sure, we can come up with some.”

“I’ll write a contract.”

“We need a contract?”

“Yeah,” she decides. “If this is going to work, we need a comprehensive set of rules, and they need to be written down, because I don't trust you not to adjust them in your head last minute.”

“How am I attracted to you? But, fine.”

Amy shakes her head, closing the last button on the shirt that had been left unbuttoned until now. “So… I’ll put together a draft and bring it over tonight? Your place?”

Jake gapes at her for a moment like he can't believe what he hears, but then he nods. “I’m free.”

“Cool. I’ll see you tonight, then.” With that, she pulls on her socks and shoes, leaving before she can freak out again.

“Cool, cool,” she hears just before closing the door. “Friends with benefits. Cool, cool, cool, cool… cool.”

 ~

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Nineteen

Table of Contents or Part Eighteen

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OC

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning(s): Language, mentions of drugs abuse, mentions of domestic violence

A/N: Tried to update last night but it kept telling me there was a problem uploading it and to try again later so now is later

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———————————————————————

"Shit." My hand shakes, holding the positive pregnancy test.

My mind races a mile a minute as I hear the bathroom door open and someone walks in with their feet dragging against the floor.

"Babe, c'mon!" Nikki slurs and I let out a breath and shove the test in to my jacket pocket as I pace the tiny stall.

"You're not supposed to be in here." I tell him as I step out to wash my hands at the sink.

"I missed you." He sounds like a child, his tone reaching a high pitch and I giggle as he comes up behind me and presses a sloppy line of kisses from my cheek to my neck.

"How much did you have to drink while I was gone?" I ask, and he chuckles drunkenly, grabbing my jaw to angle my lips to his before kissing me. When he pulls away he gives one more peck to my lips and tugs at my arm.

"C'mon, I've got something for you." He pulls me away from the sink.

"Yeah, I've heard that one before." I smartly reply as I turn off the water, shaking my hands dry due to the lack of paper towels as he pulls me from the ladies room.

"C'mon, c'mon," He rushes me.

"I'm coming, Nikki." I laugh and he throws his arm around me, making sure I help keep him from falling as he stumbles slightly in the direction he's leading me as my ears are nearly buzzing from the loud music in the strip joint.

When I look at where the guys are seated, I stop in my tracks, my mouth nearly falling to the floor.

Nikki starts chuckling, looking at me with raised brows.

"That's..." I trail off, completely out of words.

"Ratt." He finishes what I was going to say. "C'mon." He nudges me and I don't move at all, baffled and sickeningly nervous.

"I can't, I look disgusting!" I whisper yell, glancing around as a waiter passes us.

"You look hot." He argues, looking me up and down. "I'd fuck You."

"You'd have sex with a couch if you could angle your dick between the cushions." I rudely shoot back and he rolls his eyes.

"It's not like you're impressing them or anything. You're married to me anyway." He fluffs his hair carelessly, smiling at me.

"Can I just meet them later? I really just want to go to the hotel." I plead, my nerves getting the best of me for being put on the spot.

"Viv, I—"

"Please, baby?" I grab his hand with both of mine, holding it to my chest as if it's a dear possession of mine and he sighs and digs in his pocket with his free hand for the car keys.

"You're driving. Lemme go tell these fuckers bye'."

"You guys are like the seven deadly sins come to life and throwing anything they can get their fuckin' hands on at each other."  Is how Fred Saunders, the band's head of security for their tours, described Nikki and I.

His job consisted of keeping us protected, even if it meant from each other.

He said that after he had separated us before we could start fist fighting, the both of us bleeding and bruised in multiple places due to having a "who can hit who with what the hardest" contest which resulted in liquor bottles, needle loaded syringes, shoes, hotel room dishes, and lamps, being hurled through the air at each other.

I didn't know what the hell else I was suppose to do after I turned on The Arsenio Hall Show just to see Vanity showing off my wedding ring—that I had presumed was just lost—claiming that she and Nikki were engaged.

I figured the freebase had officially fried the both of their brain's, and since she wasn't there in Texas where we were staying so I could include her in my outburst, Nikki just got enough of my wrath for the both of them when I found him in the neighboring room with Tommy, and attacked him like a rabid bitch.

I wasn't ever violent growing up, and although I had an outburst every now and then with Vince (because he is someone who knows exactly how to keep pushing at me until I snap) it wasn't ever my first response to just be on edge all the time and hit, cut, scratch, and punch people who got on my nerves; however, I got sick and tired of nobody listening to me.

I'd tell the dealers to "fuck off and stay fucked off"...they'd be back as soon as Nikki called. I'd tell the record company that the guys did not need to go back on the road because they were nearly spun out...they'd look me in the eye while printing out the schedule for the next leg of tour dates. I decided if I stopped being so patient and nice, and just started beating the ever loving fuck out of the people I considered partly to blame, shit would actually get done instead of just putting me on the back burner.

That was a toxic way of thinking, and I know it was, but you slap junkies when they won't wake up.

I suppose I was trying to slap everyone out of their own customized vice-induced comas.

The truth is Nikki's love for drugs, that grew more than his love for me or even himself, was the root of my resentment.

Every screaming match, every conniving thing done out of spite to one another, every affair, every bit of turmoil, all came back to his heroin addiction...which really kickstarted in 1984, when Robbin Crosby of the band Ratt—who did a handful of openings for Mötley Crüe during their last leg of the Shout At The Devil tour—taught him how to use needles.

I angrily stomp my heels down the pavement of the sidewalk as we step to our hotel entrance through the crowd of fans and photographers.

I'm completely out of it, having lost my patience a couple minutes ago when we were bombarded by reporters while leaving the club the guys practically drug me to after the show.

"Viv, I don't see the big fuckin' deal. We're married. We fuck. That's what we do. People know that's what we do." Nikki defends himself as the elevator dings, opening it's doors for all of us to go up to our room.

I don't say a word, rolling my jaw, not wanting to get into an argument with him and the guys wasted.

"It was a joke, Viv." Tommy adds innocently.

"It's not that fucking serious." Vince says next and I step out of the elevator once it stops at our floor. "Are you fucking kidding me? You're not talking to me now?" The blonde asks and I contain the urge to slap him sober.

I pluck the key from Nikki's hand and unlock the door, stepping inside to set my bag on the floor next to the bed closest to the window, hearing him shut the door behind him, roughly, while saying, “it’s not that serious, Viv.” I brush him off.

"Vivian!" Nikki raises his voice a little, catching my attention. "I’m talking to you, don’t fucking ignore me!”

"My sex life isn't the headline of a fucking run-down sleazy gossip magazine." I state pointedly, completely ignoring his comment about me ignoring him.

"It's called sex, drugs and rock n' roll for a reason, Viv, which means my sex life—a.k.a you—is and always will be the headline of a fucking run-down sleazy gossip magazine. The more attention I get, the more attention the band gets and that's how we reach the fans."

"'I treat her like a lady, so she'll stay on her knees like a groupie'?" I quote what he told a bunch of slimy reporters when we left the club, and he blinks at me.

"Do you want me to go back out there and lie and tell them the wildest that we get is fucking in missionary at the foot of the bed instead of at the top?"

"That's not even the point."

"Well then what is the fucking point, Viv?!"

"I'm not a groupie, Nikki, I'm your wife!"

"Oh my God, you're really pussying out over a fucking joke?!"

"That was a shit thing to say, and you know it was, Nikki, although I can't say I'm surprised ever since you've started that shit you've been a bigger jackass than before!" I accuse him.

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" He yells, his pupils seemingly worse than they were before.

"Smoking your fucking heroin and snorting your coke, that's what the fuck I'm talking about!" I fly off the handle, standing on the tips of my toes to get in his face and he pushes me away from him roughly, causing me to stumble back and fall on to the floor with a loud thump.

He's about to walk away and leave, but I don't know when to leave a dead horse after I've beaten it enough.

The heel of my stiletto collides with the side of his leg roughly, opting him to groan out in pain from where I kicked him.

His hand is tightly around my ankle in two seconds, yanking me up like a cat by its scruff, all while I'm clawing at him.

I'm tossed on to the bed, his hands pinning my arms down as he gets between my legs, stopping my chance of kicking him off of me.

I don't fight back, the look in his eye actually scaring me, and I realize I took it way too far.

I don't know what the hell he's taken, but it's a lot different than how he usually is when he's fucked up.

"I'm not gonna repeat myself, Vivian. What the fuck I do, who the fuck I do it with, and when the fuck I do it, is none of your fucking business. I don't control you. You don't fucking control me. You're just embarrassing yourself, and me, when you try to." He warns me darkly, doing a complete 180 from how chipper and happy he was earlier tonight. "Got it?"

My eyes water, my lip shaking a little but I stop myself from crying to save myself the broken pride.

"Okay, Nikki." I agree, feeling guilty for hounding him about it.

He gets off of me and doesn't even give me a second glance before he leaves, slamming the door behind him.

I was pregnant, terrified, off my Nardil, and projecting all of that onto him, while he was secretly mixing heroin with coke and shooting it to balance each other out.

He'd spend however long trying to correct and tweak his method of adding more coke to correct his drowsiness and adding more heroin to calm him down...but he would usually manage to over correct each time and he wigged out or nodded off...then he would get irritable and have shitty ups and downs with his mood in a matter of minutes.

I don't know where he went when he left that night, but me and Mick were the only two that fell asleep in the room. I never bothered asking Nikki where he stayed.

I probably don't want to know.

"Viv, c'mon, we gotta get up." Mick tells me, pulling me from my shitty sleep.

I'm exhausted from not being able to sleep barely at all until I saw the faint light of the sun starting to rise through the curtains of the hotel.

I groan, yawn and stretch, sitting up.

"What time is it?" I ask him, rubbing my eyes.

"Six o'clock. We gotta be on the bus by six-thirty." He informs me, getting out of his bed, putting his stuff back in his suitcase.

I wait for the sickness to kick in, it usually does a couple minutes after I've been awake, but it hasn't yet.

I go ahead and get up, throwing on a T-shirt and shorts, packing my suitcase quickly Incase I get distracted from puking my brains out.

Reaching down to pick up my purse, I notice the bruising around my ankle where Nikki grabbed me. I’m positive he has a bruise from where my heel nearly punctured him on his leg.

"You cry like a hit dog in your sleep." Mick tells me, interrupting my thoughts, as he zips his bag and I exhale and do the same, not answering right away.

"I cry like a hit dog when I'm awake. What's new?" I mumble, stepping to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Nikki's stuff is still all in here, so when I'm done brushing my teeth I gather his things and put them in his suitcase.

The sound of the key unlocking the door sounds, and I dart my eyes to the door, hoping to see Nikki so I can apologize for last night.

I'm sorely disappointed.

"We're ready in the lobby." Doc tells me and Mick, grabbing Nikki's suitcase from where I put it beside the door.

I nod a little and grab my stuff and Mick and I follow him out of the room to the elevator to get to the lobby.

"Is he still mad at me?" I ask Doc and he sighs.

"He doesn't like handling you like that." He tells me, disappointment in his voice as he refers to Nikki putting his hands on me last night.

"I don't like doing it to him, either." I reply and he looks at me.

"Well, then you two just need to stop while you're ahead before it gets worse." He suggests and I don't say anything else, waiting for the doors to open once we get to the first floor.

I see Nikki, Vince, and Tommy, all wearing sunglasses to avoid making their hangovers worse, and no one says anything to me, and I don't say anything to them.

"Alright, come on." Doc ushers us to the door to get to the bus.

Our bags get packed in as we file in a line to get on, and just as I'm about to step up, I'm held back by someone holding at my wrist.

I think it's Tommy or Vince, stopping me to tell me something smart-assy or funny, but it's Nikki grabbing at me to keep his balance so he doesn't fall due to his delayed reaction time.

I look down at him, and he moves his hand from my wrist to completely engulf my hand with it, and relief is a dear friend to me.

I'm forgiven.

Once we sit down, he's positioning himself to lay his head on my lap and I put my hands in his fluffy hair, taking his glasses off of him when I know he's asleep so he doesn't mess the frame up, as we head to Memphis, Tennessee for the last show of the tour.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 190: Standing Tall

Previously on BnHA: Endeavor died! But it’s okay because then he got better! In the meantime, the High Definition Noumu managed to destroy a whole lot of the city, to the point where it reminded a lot of people of the Kamino attack three months prior. There was a lot of meta about why Endeavor couldn’t quit. Part of it is because the world still needs a Symbol, and he’s what they’ve got right now. But as Hawks and Fuyumi also observed, Endeavor is also just really bad at giving up. As Hawks observed, back during All Might’s heyday, Endeavor was the only one who even attempted to try and surpass him, despite knowing he had no chance. And that’s exactly the kind of bullheaded tenacity that allowed this crazy fire man to force himself back up, use his flames to propel himself, and chase after the Noumu while the world (and his son, who’s watching in the U.A. common room with his classmates and Aizawa) looked on. Then Hawks finally showed up to help out, and lent Endeavor some of his feathers to aid him in his speed and movement. And with that little boost, Endeavor launched one final flaming fist attack. Hopefully it’ll be enough.

Today on BnHA: Endeavor punches the High Flying Noumu with his flame fist and tries to burn it from the inside out. Somehow it still doesn’t work. Everyone watching is like “AHHH” and Shouto is like “DAD D:” and Hawks is like “dude you burned all my feathers, I can’t help you out anymore.” But Endeavor is all “it’s okay we good” and he grabs the Noumu and blasts way up into the sky where he can unleash his full power without having to worry about hurting anyone in the vicinity. And then he unleashes another Prominence Burn attack, but this time with Plus Ultra. Everyone is like “holy shit” and it’s fucking tense as hell, and then a moment later Endeavor comes plummeting down from the sky still on fire and goes splat on some random car. And then he stands up and does the All Might victory pose. Goddamn. So everyone is all “YESSSSS”, and Hawks goes to help him because he’s still barely fucking conscious, and for just a moment it looks like everything’s going to be all right. And then Dabi shows up. And is all “hey there Endeavor. it sure is nice to quote-unquote ‘meet’ you, lol.” Oh fucking snap.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 209 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

lol

for a solid moment there I read this as “the beginning of Horikoshi Kouhei” and I was like oh no my man you did not just pull a goddamn Steven King and insert yourself into your own fucking manga

so here’s the full dramatic first page

poor Hawks, caught in the crossfire

oh for fuck’s sake, now we’re moving on to page 2 and Endeavor’s fist is still rushing toward this fucking Noumu. just die already please

okay it looks like it is indeed dying

this is actually pretty anticlimactic after all of that. but okay

aaaaaand it’s still regenerating. even though Endeavor has his fucking hand inside of its skull and is burning it from the inside out

shit you guys

so they are being burned up, then. not good, not fucking good at all

Endeavor is shouting Hawks’s name!

and now he’s addressing the Noumu

idk what’s going on, he’s just describing the Noumu in his mind I guess. saying shit we already know. “modified human, manufactured one, holder of multiple quirks, obsessed with the pursuit of strength”

like, what is the point of this

oh I see, it’s simply to be as dramatic as possible so as to build up to this moment

Shouto. that’s very sweet. but. he can’t hear you, honey

he doesn’t actually address him as “dad” very often though does he? in fact, I don’t recall him ever directly addressing him by “name” at all. in the handful of face to face conversations that they’ve had with each other, he’s avoided using any sort of title and has been really brusque. and whenever he talks about him, he simply refers to him as “my father” (I forget which word it is he’s using in Japanese, but it’s something fairly casual and borderline disrespectful, I’m sure)

(ETA: so he normally uses the word “oyaji” (which does mean “father” but has more of an “old man” connotation though) when addressing Endeavor, and apparently that’s the word he uses in this scene too. so there was actually no change there. I’d be annoyed at the translation being a bit misleading, but I guess “old man! I’m watching” wouldn’t have quite the same emotional impact, so that’s fair.)

anyway, so yeah, that makes this outburst even more meaningful than it initially appears to be

Hawks says his feathers are all burnt up now so he won’t be able to help any more

but Endeavor says it’s enough

and he’s flying up higher, somehow. not sure if that’s the remainder of Hawks’s wings boosting him or if he’s just using his fire again somehow. that still makes no fucking sense but okay

he’s trying to put some distance between them and the people and buildings below so as to not cause any further damage

okay here we go. one more time

odd that he would hate that motto given how obsessed he is with strength. maybe it just never clicked with him. or maybe he resented it because no amount of “plus ultra” was ever enough for him to catch up with All Might

but at any rate, this is certain some plus ultra shit right here

looooooool Horikoshi you sneaky little shit

SO THIS SHIT IS REALLY ALL BUT CONFIRMED THEN, HUH

damn it just what exactly is the story behind this. I want to know already

so now Endeavor is plummeting from the sky presumably unconscious and still very much on fire

and the guy with the air gun hands says he’ll catch him. and he’s shooting his hands out toward him

and his buddy with the chopped up floating limbs is helping too. gross

eeesh

I winced

and now there are more reaction shots, with Fuyumi’s hands over her mouth, the people from the newscopter looking on in shock, and Shouto still standing there with that same frozen “oh shit” expression as before

can anyone give this poor kid a hug or even a hand on his shoulder or fucking something already. jesus. Aizawa you’re right fucking there. what happened to all of your dad instincts

Hawks is running over now

ahhhhh yes here we go!

I expected there would be a slower, more dramatic build up to this, but he just like bounced back to his feet and fucking did it right away lol

well whatever. he earned it. he earned this

all right, Enji. I’ll admit it, you are making some great strides here. none of this is gonna get me to actually forgive you, mind. but I have done quite a bit of essaying on redemption at this point, and I gotta say, you meet those criteria. you are learning and trying to be better and actually succeeding. it doesn’t undo any of the shitty things you did, but that’s up to those characters whether they’re okay with moving past it or not. in the meantime you seem to be doing what you can to make up for it now, and while it would have been preferable for you to have learned this lesson some 25 years earlier... better late than never

and now everyone is cheering!

goddammit, they really needed this. a victory like this. something to help restore their faith

All Might’s sitting and looks kind of blown away. like his hair is literally blown away. did someone turn the fan on in this room or

ohhhhh my god

oh my heart. whoa there. I wasn’t ready for this

is he praying?? is this a thank you? or is this just relief and he just kind of slumped for a second and just happened to clasp his hands like that for lack of knowing what else to do

either way it’s giving me a lot of feels

although even now they’re all just standing around him hovering like they want to comfort him, but they’re afraid or there’s some invisible force field there or something. JUST PAT HIM ON THE DAMN BACK ALREADY. jesus he was so tense. that was so intense can you please give him some support please and thank you guys

by the way they seriously need to turn up the heat in the dorms it looks like. holdover thought from the previous chapters that I forgot to remark on because I was binging the rest of this arc. but they’re all bundled up quite a lot for being indoors

awwwwww

what is this. I thought I was supposed to come out of this arc shipping Dabi/Hawks?? I have yet to understand that? but Endeavor/Hawks (or more like Hawks/Endeavor) is certainly coming off very strong

(ETA: to be clear I don’t ship this romantically, because Endeavor is old enough to be his dad. which is kind of the point, actually. Endeavor fucked up with all four of his actual kids, but now with Hawks he has miraculously been granted the chance to make a new start with someone who’s disconnected from all of that. basically this is the first bond Endeavor has ever formed that isn’t fucking toxic, and I think it’s important for him on his path to making amends in whatever ways he can. this is a chance for him to actually try and be a good father to someone, and better late than never. 

because Hawks is also someone who has relatively few close connections with people, because he keeps all his true feelings bottled up for self-preservation reasons, and keeps people at a distance by being casual and aloof with everyone (though in a friendly way). and yet for whatever reason, he’s gone and adopted Endeavor. maybe it’s just that he sees Endeavor as the best hope the world’s got right now, and so mentoring him to be less of an ass gets him closer to his goal of one day not having to do this job anymore. or maybe something about Endeavor’s asshole nature makes Hawks feel more at ease being open with him, because he doesn’t need to worry about making Endeavor worry, because Endeavor will just keep on not giving a shit no matter what, so that’s nice. except that Endeavor does perhaps give the tiniest of shits, shockingly. and I think that’s something that came as a surprise to them both and caught them both off guard.

anyways. so somehow this relationship between a hot pile of garbage and a character who was only introduced six chapters ago became one of my favorites in the series in a staggeringly short amount of time. sometimes life is strange like that.)

LMAO

I USED THE OTHER ARM. SO IT’S NOT THE SAME. SHUT UP

(ETA: also would you fucking look at this fucking fanboy knowing which arm it’s actually supposed to be and still bothering to be all “HMPH!” about it. how does it feel to be a 45-year-old chuuni, Endeavor)

damn he is harsh on himself

jesus christ Horikoshi. I keep thinking this, but it really is like a textbook study of how to redeem a character. he ticked off every single box. give them everything they wanted only for them to realize it wasn’t what they wanted at all. make them remorseful for their past actions. make them strive forward with new purpose. make them suffer but refuse to give in. give them an eyepatch. (ETA: dammit.) give them new relationships that aren’t tied to all of the horrible shit they did in their past, so we can see them interact with someone without that for once and get a glimpse of who they could have been and maybe just maybe still could be with a lot of hard work

like, I know when I’m being manipulated, but damned if it isn’t a masterful fucking job

anyways. Hawks says that he still did a good job and this will definitely be huge

and he says that first off “we have to do something about your injuries” and lol, duhhhhh though

SJSLDFKLSKHGK

YOU HOLD UP!!!! DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE

I FEEL LIKE I SUMMONED HIM LMAO

okay Dabi. meet Hawks? unless you already know him? I don’t know, actually and I’m very curious as to what’s going on here

because it now occurs to me that my earlier suspicion of Hawks still could be right on the money and it’s possible that he was even working with Dabi. because idk but people ship this something fierce so there must be some connection, either past or future. and that attack was no fucking coincidence, and it certainly was no coincidence either that it ended up doing exactly what Hawks wanted it to do

but anyways. I’m getting ahead of myself now and I’m sure we’ll find out more about this shortly!

and look at Dabi greeting his old man like he’s never met him before, too. you think you’re so fucking smooth, huh

(ETA: so the “I guess” part here is actually very significant. I’ll just let Viz’s translator Caleb Cook explain:

basically, your two options are (1) Dabi is a fire-user whose true identity is still being deliberately withheld and whose physical appearance (hairstyle, eye color, approximate age) just happens to match up near-perfectly with the missing Todoroki sibling who was coincidentally mentioned in this same arc for the very first time, and who has apparently met Endeavor before, but in spite of this he somehow is not Todoroki Touya; or (2) Dabi is Todoroki Touya.

I don’t know about you guys, but I know where I stand with this one lol.)

shit. what an ending. what a fucking arc this is turning out to be

[tessatechaitea]

Scarab #4

Is this child porn? I hope this isn't child porn. I bet it's not child porn because this is a fetus.

Apparently this is why Marty was so bloody. He beat an old woman to death. Or to miscarriage.

Marty claims the old woman wouldn't stop screaming so he had to beat her. But why wouldn't she stop screaming? Was Marty raping her? Probably. As I mentioned before, Marty believes the women of this town deserve physical violence. Although he ended last issue screaming, "Look what it did to me," which doesn't make any sense in this context. Maybe he just means Pan drove him crazy by not allowing him to kill himself? So this violence is Pan's fault and not part of Marty's toxic masculinity? Marty goes on to explain the entire story to Scarab so that the reader isn't confused anymore. All the men in town were castrated by Pan who then pissed in their mouths. And afterward, either due to visions of heavenly glory or the ripest of all embarrassments, they marched into the sea and killed themselves. Except Marty had a broken leg so he didn't get to experience the beauty and wonder of castration followed by ritual suicide. But earlier this evening, he glimpsed Pan and came in his pants. I think the "Look what it did to me" while opening his pants before Scarab was to demonstrate he'd lost his balls. Then he beat the old woman to death because she couldn't stop screaming after seeing his mutilated manhood. So now Scarab feels like he needs to put things to right although it seems like the women of Whitehaven are happy with how things are going. And the men are dead so what do they care if somebody destroys Pan? I guess this is why I'm not a superhero because my first reaction to seeing dozens of naked women engaged in a passionate orgy is to think, "Things look good here! I guess I'll be off! After staring an inordinately long time. You know, to just top off the wank bank."

Meanwhile, this pornographer happens upon the scene and decides to join in. Little does he realize, it's Pan's fetuses who are in control. He's fucking the fetuses!

Scarab seeps into the ground to confront Pan and to nobody's surprise, Pan threatens to fuck his arse off when they finally meet. This is another reason why I'm not a superhero or Jesus Christ. Because I can't resist temptation. If I were Jesus Christ, Kazantzakis's The Last Temptation of Christ could probably still have been called that. But, just to clarify, it would also have been The First Temptation of Christ. Satan would have been, "Look. Knock this shit off for a handful of Fizz candy and a Snickers bar?" And I would have been all, "Ooh! Fizz!" Scarab punches Pan and Pan responds by saying, "Hey man! Why so violent?! Sheesh. Let's be civil. Come inside my lair and let's talk. Watch out for the puddles of semen. Don't touch those socks. I apologize for the stench."

Pan reveals his real name and exposes himself for the vanilla sex monster he really is.

Why would Pan joyfully claim he's the missionary position?! At least be "The Beast Whose Penis Looks Like a Backwards Woman So I Can Stare Straight Up Her Butthole as We Fuck!" It turns out Pan is dying. Probably because he only fucks in one the worst position. Scarab can't convince Pan not to die so Pan dies. Some hero. After Pan dies, the women of the town begin realizing they don't want to be pregnant with a smell goat god's disgusting progeny so they begin to perform abortions on themselves or scream until they miscarry or simply go insane. Pan told Scarab that Eleanor will be taking care of his children. I don't know if he meant because they're all going to be killed now or because they'll be born into the Net or any number of other stupid reasons I can come up with through my terrible ability to speculate. The pornographer turns out to be Sidney Sometimes, the Fortean publisher, who I completely forgot about because I read that section of this comic book yesterday. Maybe he'll become the Scarab's lead on weird things to investigate. The issue ends with one more revelation: the "it" in Marty's "Look what it did to me" was indeed impregnation. I'm not going to rule out the castration as well but that wasn't ever explicit. So Marty wanders off to ignore what's going to happen when he gives birth because it certainly won't be a lot of fun finding out. Scarab #4 Rating: C. I think Pan fucked up this entire town just to get a few more months of life. I can respect that. People act horrified at the thought of bathing in baby's blood to stay eternally young but, I mean, seriously, if that were an actual option, we'd find out a whole lot of people were way less concerned about the welfare of infants.

[5hfanfiction]

thin walls (are calling me home) - chapter 22

A/N: i wrote the second scene of the chapter while listening to “wait” by m83 so like……,,. cries

–//–

That’s my girl.

Lauren stared at her uncle’s comment on the picture Camila had posted of her while her pulse ran wild. The Latina’s thoughts had somewhat frozen until she took in her revelation, and the only thing she could do now was think about was what the hell would she do now.

Lauren needed to talk to Normani, she had to do more research. An accusation of this magnitude required proof, after all. And what proof did she have? Intuition counted for nothing. No, Lauren had to dig deeper, she needed to find the connection her colleagues had missed all those years ago. Her uncle was an influential person, after all, and-

Her uncle. Had he really… Could he have? Could Marcus have been the one to murder Camila’s parents? Granted, he was a complete and utter asshole, who didn’t care one bit about how much his company harmed the planet. He had beaten her up as a kid, for crying out loud. But murder…

Lauren had to dig deeper.

The Latina got to her feet, making a beeline to her bedroom. Her hands itched for her to just grab her laptop and Google away, but she entered the bathroom instead. Lauren sat on the border of the bathtub and settled for opening Google Chrome on her phone. After about five minutes of searching for her uncle’s company, she found a couple of old news that talked about - surprise surprise - toxic leakages.

God, it was unbelievable that his company was going through the same problems it had faced years ago. If anything, it showed how little he cared about the environment. But that still didn’t prove anything.

Before Lauren could search any further, three knocks on the door startled her. “Lauren?”

She quickly regained her composure and stood up. “Yeah?”

“Dinner’s ready, babe. Everything okay in there?” Camila said from the other side of the door.

“Y- yeah, yeah, I’ll be right out.” Lauren stuttered, opening the faucet as if she had just used the toilet and was going to wash her hands.

“'Kay, I’ll be at the table.” Camila stated before her footsteps made themselves heard as she walked away.

Lauren sighed and took the opportunity to wash her face and maybe then she would clear her mind. The green eyed girl wanted nothing less than to be the perfect girlfriend to Camila today - as she always desired, but with the good news she had brought home Lauren had to be extra perfect - and that meant not completely zoning out during dinner due to her racing thoughts. She would have lots of time to search later.

(Even if she wanted to do that now.)

Lauren took a deep breath and exited the bathroom.

–//–

Lauren’s head started throbbing after a couple of hours lying awake in bed, unable to sleep.

When Lauren finally managed to get a bit of rest, nightmares woke her up, the face of her uncle apparently printed onto her eyelids.

Marcus seemed to haunt her, no matter how much time she put into breaking his hold on her. He was everywhere. Even in something as fucking unbelievable as this.

(The idea that he could have tainted Camila’s story like this hurt more than any punch he ever threw at her.)

Lauren’s chest felt heavy then. Her mind, foggy from the short amount of sleep, drained of energy. Her breaths, hard and coming in increasingly shorter pants, until she was just fighting to breathe. And there were the tears, that would usually fight their way out of Lauren’s eyes.

But she was tired.

Mentally, physically. Emotionally. Lauren had been in such a good place. The scars had been there, always, and she had begun to realize she had some problems, but she had been fine until her uncle returned into her life.

Better than fine, actually. After meeting Camila, Lauren had been happier than she’d felt in a long time, but even before her she’d been in a really good place.

And then he came back and suddenly everything was going wrong. Lauren obviously didn’t believe that everything bad that happened was his fault. Marcus didn’t have anything to do with neither the shooting at the bank nor the one at the park, for example. But it was almost as if he only brought some kind of bad energy into her life. One that sucked all of the good, leaving only the bad.

Or maybe she was just too exhausted and in too much pain - her head still throbbed after all - to make sense.

A warm arm encircled Lauren’s waist then, making her turn her head to her left. There was the face of the one who meant the world to her, eyelids closed in peaceful sleep. Lauren had woken up from her nightmare in a quiet manner this time, and Camila hadn’t woken up as well.

(Lauren thought it was for the best, since she needed a good night of sleep to do her best on the play.)

But even in her sleep, Camila managed to comfort her. The light arm the petite girl had around her waist made her smile through her stubborn, quiet tears, and Lauren rose her own left arm over her head, putting it around Camila’s shoulders and bringing her girlfriend closer to her. The smaller Latina opened her eyes then and Lauren cursed herself inside her brain for waking her up, but soon it became clear that she wasn’t really awake, since Camila only raised her head to use Lauren’s chest as a pillow before closing her eyes again.

“I love you.” Lauren whispered, kissing the crown of her girlfriend’s head.

“Love you too.” Camila mumbled back before her breathing got deep and slow again.

Lauren’s breath hitched in her throat at that moment, a lump forming there a moment later.

Marcus may have tainted Camila’s story, but he would not ruin this. He may have taken away Lauren’s sleep, but she hadn’t let him take her time with Camila this time. For even if she hadn’t been perfect like she had wished to be during dinner, it’d been more pleasant than the last few days, that she had spent agonizing over the case files. So no, he wouldn’t taint this. Not their story.

Not on Lauren’s watch.

–//–

Camila woke up tangled up in Lauren that Friday.

(Not that she was complaining, of course.)

Her eyes fluttered open as her mind struggled against the still present drowsiness, but Camila eventually managed to untangle herself from her sleeping girlfriend and sit up. She picked up her glasses from her nightstand and put them on, smiling down at Lauren like she almost always did these days.

Even though Camila was a heavier sleeper, Lauren had been waking up later than the younger Latina ever since she came back home from the hospital. Camila assumed that she was more tired now than before and that she probably needed more sleep anyway, so she didn’t mind.

But Camila did worry when she noticed bags under Lauren’s eyes, or when she felt in her gut that the girl had gotten less sleep than necessary, but had no way to prove it, so she just shook off the feeling as her imagination and excessive worry, since, well, with Lauren going to bed at the same time as her and waking up a few hours after, she had to be sleeping enough, right?

On the days Lauren didn’t have nightmares, that is. And, for all Camila knew, she’d only had one on Monday. The Cuban thought it to be progress and she had been trying to give Lauren more space like Ally had suggested, but it was hard, and sometimes she felt like she pressed more than she should.

But at the same time, Lauren had seemed kind of out of it this week. She’d been distracted, distant, and even when Camila thought she was imagining things, Lauren went back to acting weirdly. Like yesterday. She’d come home to a seemingly fine Lauren, her Lauren, but the change in her during dinner had been palpable, even though it’d been better than the last few ones they’d shared.

Camila had been bottling up her worry ever since her talk with Ally, telling people that Lauren was getting better and would be fine when she was asked.

And although her heart clenched with the idea that something was still wrong, she needed to not think about that today. Not today, with the play starting another season and with the prospect of a photoshoot on the near future.

The thought brought a smile to Camila’s face and she bit down on her lower lip to contain the massive grin trying to break out. Things were escalating fast, and even though sometimes Camila felt overwhelmed by all of it, she honestly felt like she couldn’t be happier about her carrier. She was obviously nervous, but having already performed a few times made her calmer for this opening than she had been on her debut.

Still smiling, Camila lowered herself and gave Lauren’s forehead a feather light kiss. The play would begin an hour earlier than it did in the previous theater, so she also had to be there an hour earlier than the other times. That meant spending less time with Lauren, so Camila would try to make the most of the time she had with her girlfriend.

Unfortunately for her, the girl would probably just wake up around noon, and Camila wasn’t going to wake her up before that. So after feeding Lexie and having some toast and a cup of coffee for breakfast, Camila decided that instead of the traditional breakfast in bed, she would prepare Lauren’s favorite dishes for lunch - the ones that her new diet allowed, that is.

You can imagine her surprise when not five minutes later she heard a low and raspy, “Morning,” coming from the corridor.

Camila jumped in place, having been literally startled by Lauren, who chuckled. It was time for her heart to leap. “You’re awake?!” Camila more asked than stated, her parted lips slowly forming a smile.

Lauren rubbed her eyes as she yawned, pouting right afterwards. “Don’t sound so surprised, it’s not like I usually oversleep.”

Camila’s smile stretched at the cuteness of the scene. “You do, actually.” She giggled.

Lauren pouted even more. “This week doesn’t count.”

“Of course it does, princess.” Camila laughed as she walked closer to her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around her neck.

Lauren scowled playfully, leaving her arms still at either side of her body. “Unfair.”

Camila softly kissed her girlfriend, feeling Lauren’s pout become a smile before she kissed back. The girl melted into the kiss then, finally hugging Camila’s waist. Once they parted, Camila rested her forehead against Lauren’s, her eyes closed in bliss. She couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped her lips.

“What?” Lauren asked, a hint of humor already present in her voice.

“I can’t believe you already brushed your teeth.”

Lauren gasped in fake surprise, to which Camila laughed again, opening her eyes and leaning her head back to look at her ridiculous girlfriend. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Camila bit her lip before putting on her thinking face. “Huh, if you say so… I wonder where the taste of mint came from.”

Lauren snorted then, stealing a quick kiss from Camila. “Dork.”

Camila grinned, not even trying to defend herself. “Look who’s talking.” Lauren only feigned annoyance, unwrapping Camila’s arms from her neck as the brown eyed girl kinked an eyebrow. “What, backing down already? Where’s the ‘I’m the most badass woman to ever live’ line?”

Lauren’s smile wavered truthfully then and she looked down, Camila feeling her heart go cold at the prospect of having messed up somehow. It was strange to walk on eggshells with Lauren after dating her for a few months, but she knew that this was a fragile moment in her life, and so she was trying her best not to upset her, just like she was refraining from pushing her, like Ally had told her to do.

“Dunno if I can say that anymore.” Lauren mumbled with a sad smile, slowly looking up. “I’m not that good of a cop after all.”

Camila frowned, feeling bad for having ruined one of the few good moods Lauren had had the entire week. “Please don’t say that, Laur. You’re an amazing cop, you know that.”

Lauren stared into Camila’s eyes for a minute before turning them to the floor once again. She took a deep breath, only to release it a moment later, looking up with a small, resigned smile.

“Maybe when I get back on the field I can work on being amazing like you say I am, but if I already were that good I wouldn’t be where I am now.”

Camila shook her head, cupping Lauren’s cheeks to make her look her deep in the eye. “You’re already amazing. Or don’t you remember how your captain would always pick you and Normani to stop the bad guys whenever he could? Or have you forgotten how many times I almost had a heart attack because of that?” She chuckled, managing to get an honest smile out of Lauren. “Am I gonna have to bring up the babe fiasco?”

Lauren threw her head back in laughter now, music to Camila’s years.

But as quick as it came, it went away, only to be replaced by a groan of pain.

“Fuck.” Lauren grimaced, hand flying to her left temple like Camila had seen her do dozen of timed by now.

Camila’s smile quickly faded, all the humor exiting the situation. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to-”

“What, laugh?” Lauren cut her off suddenly, green eyes hidden behind wrinkled lids and knitted eyebrows. Her tone was curt, but not harsh, and Camila knew she wasn’t trying to be mean. She was only in pain.

Lauren sighed, taking a step back, to which Camila’s hand fell from where it’d been touching her face. Then, Lauren opened her eyes and walked to the couch, sitting down slowly.

“I’m sorry for snapping.” Lauren sighed, raising her eyes.

“It’s fine.” Camila replied, reaching the couch and sitting next to Lauren. She lifted her arm and her girlfriend immediately cuddled up to her.

“Sudden movements are still a bitch.” She chuckled humorlessly. “I’m gonna talk about that with Lawrence on my check up on Monday.”

Camila hummed in reply, tilting her head to kiss the crown of Lauren’s. “It’ll be alright.”

“Hope so.”

They stayed that way for a minute or two, Camila stroking Lauren’s hair softly, until loud meowing and small paws on their legs brought them back to the present. Camila smiled when Lexie settled on Lauren’s lap and she immediately started petting it.

“You two seem to be getting along well.” Camila pointed out, to which she felt Lauren smile against her skin.

“She helps.”

Camila smiled lovingly. “I’m really happy to hear that.” She felt Lauren’s smile stretch and her own did as well. “Do you want to eat breakfast?” She changed the subject, to which Lauren raised her body to look at her.

“Yeah, I’m kinda hungry to be honest.” Lauren replied sheepishly.

Camila nodded, leaning in to give Lauren a chaste kiss. “Okay. Why’d you wake up so early anyway?”

Lauren shrugged, looking away for a moment. “It’s an important day and I wanted to spend time with you so I set up an alarm.”

Camila felt her heart grow warm at the sight of her bashful girlfriend, falling in love with her all over again. Because no matter how weirdly she’d been acting sometimes and how distracted and distant she seemed these days, there were always moments like this, moments where Lauren was just her normal loving, sweet self.

(Just the girl she fell for, and that she hoped to love ‘till the end of her days.)

Camila held onto Lauren’s neck to give her a passionate kiss. Lauren’s hands flew towards Camila, one cupping her face and one holding her waist, and the kiss was probably the most heated one since Lauren had woken up. But Camila wouldn’t let it get too far, so she slowed down their rhythm until she was giving Lauren some final pecks.

“I love you so much.” Camila breathed out after they parted, her heart beating wildly.

“I love you too. More than you can imagine.” Lauren replied in between heavy breaths. “And no matter what happens…” Their eyes locked and the moment felt important, somehow. “Never forget that.”

–//–

Lauren sat on the bed, her computer atop her lap and Lexie snuggled up to her right leg. The girl absentmindedly stroked the kitten’s fur, her eyes glued to the screen as she watched video after video.

(Turns out finding a connection between Marcus and the murder of Camila’s parents wasn’t as simple as it seemed.)

Lauren watched about all of the news she found about the 2004 leakages, and damn her if that wasn’t some kind of evidence on its own. Camila’s parents had died that year, after all. Lauren’s heart clenched at the thought, but also at the memories that year brought her. It was the year Marcus had started hitting her, too, a truly unforgettable mark of her life.

Chills ran down Lauren’s spine and her already rapid heartbeat sped up even more as she suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about it. The Latina tried shutting her eyes and breathing deeply, but she could see him behind her eyelids, as if he were right there before her.

It took her a few minutes, but Lauren managed to get rid of the memories that sometimes still haunted her. Then, the Latina could focus on what truly mattered: finding evidence.

So far the only connection Lauren had was the year of the two events, but despite what she thought, the police wouldn’t take it. So she needed more. And since she had already watched and read many news about the leakages, she decided to switch her angle and start looking for the Cabellos.

“Here we go.” Lauren sighed, before typing out her first search.

2004 jauregui mining corp protest

Lauren scrolled down on Youtube, getting more and more frustrated with the lack of videos she deemed trustworthy. Many had nothing to do with the topic, only showing up because of the words mining and Jauregui. The few legit protests she found didn’t show anything more than a high or distant shots from the news of the time.

Lauren sighed and typed out- Well, she tried to, at least, but was unable to type since Lexie had jumped onto her arm. Lauren couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle before she put the kitten back down on the bed and resumed to work.

2004 enviro-

Lauren scowled at the small cat as it climbed the girl’s arm yet once again, but she couldn’t keep an annoyed face for much longer, especially not after Lexie let out a loud, high pitched meow. Lauren couldn’t help her grin then, crossing her legs and moving the laptop to rest on her bed. Lexie wasted no time in climbing onto Lauren’s lap after that, which made her smile some more.

It cleared her mind a little bit, and maybe was exactly what she had needed. Lauren took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand once again.

2004 environmental protests

That got her more results, and Lauren spent the next fifteen minutes watching videos. Most didn’t help at all, but a couple of them showed people at the manifestations more up close. Lauren payed extra attention to those, trying to find any lead, any clue.

The next hour was spent that way, watching videos and reading articles, searching for connections that she simply could not find. It was frustrating, painfully so, and Lauren wished she could say that was a figure of speech, but no, her head had to start fucking pounding after a while.

She took an aspirin, since there was still too much time left before the Latina had to take her stronger medicine, and decided that she needed to take a break.

(A quick one, obviously, but a break nonetheless.)

Lauren huffed as she ran her hand through her hair, blinking back tears of frustration. She hated that she was the type of person to cry because of anger or frustration, but she couldn’t help it, and that only made everything worse. It could lead to awful outcomes, like the night of the shooting at the bank, that Camila had found Lauren crying and drunk off her mind, the same night she’d first told Camila she loved her.

Lauren sighed, but a smile creeped into her face anyway. Yeah, it had sucked at first that she didn’t get to confess her love for Camila the way she’d wanted, but at the same time, it’d been special, the kind of special only she could provide for Lauren.

And even though Lauren’s head was still pounding, only thinking about Camila made the green eyed girl give up on her break and go back to investigating.

–//–

Camila arrived at the theater struggling to hold her water bottle, her purse, her phone and her wallet as she got off the cab.

“Just a second!” She almost yelled to whoever was on the other line of the call, cursing herself for being too distracted to realize they were arriving when she got out her water bottle and picked up the call.

She shut the door of the cab, the car taking off almost immediately, and balanced her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she walked to the theater and tried putting her water bottle and her wallet back in her purse.

(You see, Camila wasn’t the most organized person, and it was safe to say that she feared for herself in that moment since she could very well picture her own clumsy ass dropping everything at once.)

But still, she managed to enter the theater just as she heard a, “Camila?” on the other end of the line and recognized the voice as Hiro’s.

“Hey Hiro, sorry, I’ve just arrived at-,” she cut herself off with a sigh as she dropped her things on the couch in the big hall of the place, “at the theater.”

“I’m not even gonna ask why you sound like you’ve run a marathon.” Hiro said sarcastically, and Camila rolled her eyes, though a small smile graced her lips.

“You know I’m clumsy and-”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry to cut you off, Camila, but I’m in a hurry, and you must be on one too.” Hiro said, making Camila hold off her phone so she could see the time. She was a little early to the final rehearsal, so she wasn’t exactly in a hurry, but she wouldn’t argue.

Camila sighed and led the phone back to her ear. “Yeah sure, what’s up?”

“Well, if everything goes well today, you and Shawn will have a photoshoot and an interview together and then you’ll both get them separately too. That way we can start to build your individual image better, without breaking the siblings thing. It’s a good dynamic, you see, it’s always refreshing to see intimacy and comfort between coworkers in this world full of dry and superficial relationships. Also, it’s good to see that kind of thing outside the romance zone. So there’s no point in making you follow completely different paths as if you were never related, both personally and professionally. But you’re not a band or anything like that, so you can’t be bound to each other. Which is why we need those individual photoshoots. Do you understand?”

Camila nodded quickly since it did make sense, a small smile gracing her lips. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good. But it’s still not certain, so I need you to give it your best today, I need you to really impress them.” Hiro continued.

“You got it.” Camila’s smile stretched, even though her insides were boiling with nerves and excitement, as they always did before performing. But Camila trusted that her nerves wouldn’t get in the way of her performance, since she always ended up being calmer right before the play than she was hours prior to it.

“Good.” Camila could hear Hiro’s small satisfied smile through the phone, which she almost laughed at. It was half scary and half funny how much she was getting to know her manager. “And don’t forget about our meeting tomorrow afternoon.”

Camila’s smile fell at the thought since, well, no one liked to work on a Saturday. But so be it.

“I’ll be there, Hiro, don’t worry.” She said saying goodbye and hanging up.

Camila didn’t think about her meeting the next day as she talked to the security guards and went backstage. Her only thought right now was about the performance to come.

(Well, it wasn’t her only one. Her hands found the necklace Lauren had given her and she fiddled with it as she greeted her coworkers with a loud, “Hey guys”, thoughts of a certain green eyed girl filling her mind as well.)

–//–

Lauren spent the next hours searching away, her frustration growing and growing. At one point she thought she’d had an epiphany, having finally located the Cabellos in a video, but her excitement had been short lived, since finding them didn’t help at all. They’d been at protests, yeah, but that didn’t prove anything.

She sighed before checking the time and shit, it was almost time for Camila’s play. She almost forgot about it since the new theater made it begin an hour earlier, but there was still about half an hour left, which made the girl sigh in relief. The last thing she wanted was to miss the performance. Lauren was still a bit upset over not being able to go watch and support her girlfriend, but the situation had gotten a little better once Camila had had the idea of making Dinah stream it for her.

(It had taken Lauren some insisting to get her to do it, even though the girl had a feeling Dinah wasn’t even opposed to the idea to begin with, only denying at first to make Lauren beg and to use that against her in the future.

Well, if the, “I promise to never claim to be cooler than you, ever again”, she had finally given Dinah after half an hour was any indication, her plan had worked.)

Lauren sent Dinah a quick text remembering her of their agreement, getting a reply almost instantly telling her to chill. Lauren rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless, standing up and stretching. Damn, she’d been sitting all afternoon, and that was something that didn’t happen since college. Her head also ached, though less than it usually did after she had begun her investigation, and she briefly wondered if it was due to time or to the fact that she was, well, working out her brain, like she did her muscles with physical therapy.

The thought made her a little worried as she walked to the kitchen to grab a snack. After all, she had received a lot of orientation for her physical therapy, one of the most important ones being that she shouldn’t overdo it, and she would have regular checkups at the hospital. “Working out” her brain without orientation, well… Best not to think about that.

Sighing, the raven haired girl ended up getting an apple and a glass of water from the kitchen before going back to her bedroom. She placed her glass on the desk beside her laptop - double checking if Lexie was still asleep on the bed to avoid any accidents - and took a bite of her apple before she rewatched the video she had opened. And since there was such little time before the play begun, Lauren decided to only do a review of everything she’d looked up today.

The girl took a few notes on a small notebook she had laying around every time she found the Cabellos on the videos, forcing herself to remain calm as frustration threatened to take over once again. But less than five minutes before she had to turn off her computer, lie in bed and watch Camila’s performance through the screen of her phone, she noticed something.

Brow furrowed, bottom lip stuck between her teeth, her head pounding just a little more from concentration and her heart giving a few unsteady beats, Lauren wrote a small sentence on her notebook before closing her laptop, pushing her chair back and lying beside her kitten on the bed, forcing herself to forget about it for now.

But only for now.

–//–

Camila arrived home later that night feeling torn between excitement and dread. On one hand, she knew she had performed well, really well, actually. On the other hand, she knew that some of her other performances had been better and there was the slightest sentiment of doubt and insecurity within her, Hiro’s words echoing inside her mind as she worried about not having done well enough.

Camila was proud of what she had achieved, happy about where she had gotten with her career, and she was usually secure in her work, but memories of endless “no’s” still haunted her sometimes, and with that came the insecurities, came the fear of failure and-

“Camz! That was so good, I’m so proud of you!” Lauren’s voice reached her ears before she saw her standing in the corridor, having been standing still on the doorway to the apartment.

And just like that, the fears and insecurities left her mind, even if just for the time being.

Camila smiled at her girlfriend, a warm, “Thank you, Lo,” leaving her lips before she stepped forward and met Lauren halfway for a tight hug.

(Not too tight, though, she didn’t want to hurt Lauren.)

Camila nuzzled her head on the crook of Lauren’s neck, smiling even wider when she felt the kiss her girlfriend left on the crown of her head. She pulled her head back then, leaving her arms around Lauren’s waist.

“You really liked it?” Camila asked, the unusual tinge of insecurity evident in her voice.

“Obviously, babe.” Lauren replied easily, tucking a strand of Camila’s hair behind her ear before moving her hands rest on the nape of the girl’s neck. She tilted her head like a confused puppy, the sight making Camila’s insides melt. “Why do you ask?”

“Because of the photoshoot, y’know? I needed to be extra good today, and I don’t know…” Camila trailed off.

Lauren’s face softened and she leaned in, placing a chaste kiss to Camila’s lips. “Camz, you were amazing out there. Don’t worry about it.”

Camila felt her heart flutter and she was sure she was the perfect image of a heart eyes emoji.

In that moment, Camila didn’t think about the previous days. She didn’t feel worried about Lauren’s distant and unstable behavior, didn’t feel the uncertainty that haunted her whenever Lauren would shut her out or act like she didn’t know that Camila noticed those little changes.

Camila forgot about her insecurities too, pushed her fears to the back of her mind.

Because in that moment, there was nothing but Lauren, Camila and their love for each other.

(The knowledge that pushing all of that to the back of her mind might not be the best thing to do barely does cross her mind before she forces herself to ignore that too.

She’s just giving Lauren her space, after all. Right?)

–//–

“So, we have to talk.”

Camila tapped her fingers on her legs, chuckling nervously. Hiro had called to remind her of their meeting right after she’d finished having lunch with Lauren, so there was Camila, sitting with Hiro at his office.

“Okay.” She forced out, swallowing hard.

Hiro sighed. “It’ll be quick, I promise. I just have to set some things with you, let you know a few others. Things that are better to do in person, especially since you tend to not pick up your phone.”

Camila blushed, thinking about all the times she’d unlocked her cellphone and found unanswered calls from her manager. “Well-”

Hiro waved Camila off, not letting her apologize. “It’s fine, I was just kidding, you’ve been picking up more and that’s not the point anyway.”

Camila nodded, giving him a small smile in thanks, to which he just cleared his throat.

“Okay. First of all congratulations about last night, you did well.”

Hiro made a pause, so Camila gave him a bright smile and a, “Thanks,” before she nodded for him to continue, too nervous to say anything else.

“No problem. Anyway, your photoshoot with Shawn is confirmed for Monday, but we don’t know about your solo one yet. For now half of our plan for your image is confirmed, but the other half isn’t. Let’s hope that everything goes well. But that’s the easy, quick part to explain. The real reason why you’re here is related to that, though. Image.”

Camila nodded, her smile a little less bright. She didn’t know where he going with the conversation now, but she didn’t quite like the general direction of it.

“I need you to understand that image is a big deal. Which brings me to: we need to start paying more attention to your online relationships.” Hiro stated.

Camila furrowed her brow, her smile falling instantly. “What do you mean?”

“I meanthat Marcus Jauregui commented on one of your pictures to have you ignore him and your fanbase bash and-slash-or make fun of him. We can’t have that. He’s influent and he’s your girlfriend'suncle.” Hiro explained slowly, but each word felt like a slap to the face to Camila.

Her frown was deep by the time he finished and she started to feel herself getting more nervous by the second, but she breathed deeply, trying not to assume anything.

“What about it?”

“What ab…” Hiro half scoffed and half trailed off, as if in disbelief that she had even asked such a question. “Camila, darling, his company sponsors so many events, he has so many connections, that if he wanted he could practically pull you out of the acting scene by asking favors. Meaning, you have to stay on his good side.”

Camila’s eyebrows knitted together, her mouth falling a little agape in a mixture of shock and irritation. “Sorry, but what? My first, like, media or- I don’t know, image problem was because people called me a fake activist for dating his niece and going to his stupid fundraiser. If I’m suddenly his BFF it’s gonna be like saying they were right.”

Hiro shook his head. “You’re not going to be his… BFF, Camila. You cleared the air when you had your second interview, you made it clear that you were at the fundraiser to support Lauren and not Marcus. I’m only saying that you need to be civil.” Camila flinched slightly at hearing the word need, knowing it was another way of saying she was basically obliged to do it. “You just need to do something so that he doesn’t have something against you. If your fans-”

Camila cut Hiro off with a bitter laugh. “Hiro, I barely have any fans. And I don’t answer for them.”

The Japanese man sighed again, leaning back against his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’ll soon find out that you and your - very real - fans are associated. If they do something you don’t necessarily agree with but you say nothing about it, then you, too, ends up taking the blame.”

“But that makes no sense!” Camila exclaimed, holding the arms of her own chair with force.

“Doesn’t matter, it is what it is. If they’re rude to Marcus Jauregui of all people, someone’s going to talk. I don’t know who, if it’s going to be the internet or magazines or both. I don’t know how many incidents will need to happen. I don’t know what they’re going to say, if they’ll focus on him being your girlfriend’s uncle or if they’ll use that to call you a crazy activist again. He has made amends with the fundraiser and the donation after all.” Hiro affirmed, referring to the donation Jauregui Mining Corp had made to WWF and Greenpeace. “At least in the big media’s eyes. All you have to do is make a nice comment, give him a ‘thanks’. Things like that, showing that you can be and are civil with him, especially when it comes to Lauren.”

Camila was speechless, overwhelmed once again by how her life was being affected by the industry and by Marcus fucking Jauregui. Her career had barely started really launching and there she was, having to not only control what she said publicly in, like, real life, but also on the internet.

And to think that only a few months before she had started posting pictures with Lauren and no one had said anything.

Well, no one in the industry and gossip worlds, that is. Lauren’s followers would always throw comments here and there, a few claiming to ship them, but since Lauren was a private person, nothing they said online really confirmed their relationship. And it had been fine that way until the fucking fundraiser, the reason behind this whole mess.

Camila eventually found her voice again, although she was still too shocked to even express her irritation with the matter. “Don’t you think that you’re overthinking? Looking too much into things? I don’t know, is that really necessary?”

Hiro took a deep breath and Camila saw, maybe for the first time, how much of a toll his work took on him. “You’ll learn eventually that, in this industry, you can never overthink something. Everything is possible and you must always be prepared to help with whatever anyone says about you.” Hiro leaned forward this time, resting his elbows on his desk. “I’m not like some PR companies, Camila. I won’t make you act like someone you’re not. But it’spart of my job to handle your public image. Some things you won’t like, but there’s nothing to be done about that. You’re a public figure now, even if it’s been just a little while, and you need to act as such, which means knowing that you don’t have the same freedom as before. So I’m sorry, Camila, but I’m gonna need you to start doing this. And please remember: in the industry, there’s no such thing as thinking too much.”

Camila gulped, feeling as though she’d just been hit with a brick. Her freedom. She really didn’t know what to feel as she took in her agent’s words. She wasn’t even big in the acting scene and yet she had to do this. Camila had to, for her own good. All because of the simple coincidence that was to love the niece of a man she definitely did not love.

And still… According to what Hiro was saying, her image would have to be handled whether she had a connection to Marcus or not.

So despite the tightening of her chest and the frown on her face, Camila nodded, accepting her task.

–//–

Camila didn’t mention anything about Marcus Jauregui when she got home that day, choosing to break the news to Lauren on Monday, along with the answer from the magazine people about her solo photoshoot.

Truth be told, Camila was dying to share it with her girlfriend, to complain about it until Lauren’s ears bled out, but she didn’t want to trouble her with it, not when she wanted to spend a peaceful and comfortable weekend with the love of her life even more than that.

And so, when Lauren asked her how everything had gone with Hiro, Camila said it had gone well, that her photoshoot with Shawn was scheduled for Monday and that she was tired and ready for a day full of TV shows and pizza.

She could wait a couple of days, after all.

–//–

When Sunday came around, Lauren had a lead.

It wasn’t enough to incriminate her uncle, hell, it wasn’t enough to prove anything, but it was a lead nonetheless. And although Lauren hadn’t been sure about it on Friday, she had dug even deeper on Saturday while Camila was at her meeting with Hiro, deep enough to know that she had a solid lead, one that Detective Norman would have to acknowledge. And then, even if she had been wrong about Marcus, at least the case would have been opened again, raising the chances to find the culprit.

So when Camila left the couch where she and Lauren had been slouching all day long to go to the bathroom, the green eyed girl quickly opened her texting app, going straight to her conversation with the one person besides her that knew about her plan.

Lauren (3:32 pm): Updates: I think I know who did it and I have a lead that will make them reopen the case.

Lauren (3:32 pm): But you gotta come here get the fiels, you need to put them back on monday before I arrive

Lauren (3:32 pm): files*

Lauren knew from her previous conversation with Normani that she too was having a lazy day in with Ally, so it didn’t surprise her when her friend quickly replied.

Mani (3:33 pm): you can’t seriously believe im going to let you go to the station tmrrw

Lauren took a deep breath, having kind of expected that reaction from Normani.

Lauren (3:33 pm): I gotta go to the hospital for my check up anyway, I can stop by and talk to Norman real quick afterwards.

Lauren (3:33 pm): It’s not a big deal Mani

Lauren stared at the screen of her phone as she waited for the reply, growing more nervous as the minutes passed. Camila even came back as she waited, the smaller Latina heading to the kitchen and saying something about getting food that Lauren barely heard but hummed in agreement to, lifting her eyes from her phone for only a second. She was about to excuse herself to go to the bathroom, what really meant calling Normani, when the girl answered her.

Mani (3:37 pm): the things I do for you…

Lauren breathed out in relief, a small, nervous smile playing on her lips.

Lauren (3:37 pm): I have no idea how to thank you, seriously.

Mani (3:37 pm):  me neither /princess/, Beyonce tickets maybe?

Lauren chuckled at that, but just as she was about to reply with more banter, she noticed Camila coming back with a tray full of snacks and two glasses of juice, which was just the recipe for disaster, knowing how clumsy she could be. So Lauren typed a quick, “Thanks, but also bye,” in reply before she locked the screen of her phone and let it fall on the couch, standing up to help her girlfriend.

Once everything was settled atop the coffee table, Lauren sat back down on the couch, Camila by her side. She didn’t look at her phone for the duration of the next movie they watched, but for the first time in a while, she really felt at ease.

–//–

A/N: yoo i didn’t take that long this time! i know i said i’d try to post a new chapter before august began but like 1. i travelled during most of my break, 2. i kinda had writer’s block which means im not 100% happy about the chapter  (i feel like everything is all over the place bc the scenes are shorter than usual but like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯), 3. classes came back sfkjas

feedback is always appreciated, be it positive or negative, and as usual i hope you guys liked it!

also, thank you soooo much for all the love! take care, darlings!

wattpad; ao3

- Camila (brookescabello on tumblr)

[sunny-day-sky]

so I heard @acemisweek​ is doing a thing !! 

hav some wlw 

“So you’re lesbians? How do you have sex?” Eponine gave the fuckboy at the bar such a toxic glare that Cosette could see his face go white, even through the dim lights. “None of your fucking business. Go to hell before I send you there myself.” “I was just–” “I said, fuck off.” Eponine clenched her fist on top of the bar, showing off her collection of spiked rings and knuckle tattoos. Her face was murderous. The fuckboy took one last look, then turned and slunk off without a word, tail between his legs, too intimidated to stay and try to make amends. Cosette looked at Eponine in awe and appreciation. “I never get tired of watching you scare away creepers.” “Funny, I never get tired of you watching me.” Eponine squeezed Cosette’s hand sweetly, belying the terrifying power within her, and pecked her lightly on the cheek. “Now. How about another drink? I think we deserve it.” — It had been a fun night out, fuckboy aside (and that hadn’t even come as much of a surprise; Cosette and Eponine run into them everywhere they go), but Cosette’s still pensive tonight as she lies beside her gently-snoring girlfriend. Eponine had been so upset earlier. Sure, she’d contained it well, but Cosette could tell that she’d have punched that boy if he hadn’t run off when he did. Usually she doesn’t get that angry when boys hit on them, so there must have been something different about the situation. What could it be? Cosette loves Eponine so much; she wants to make sure she’s okay now, and not still angsting over something that was in no way her fault. Carefully, she turns the events of the night over in her mind. They’d been having fun, drinking happily at the bar with their friends and watching Enjolras turn a hilarious shade of red as Courfeyrac kept feeding him margaritas (Cosette might not experience Asian glow, but she can’t doubt its existence, judging from her brother’s every reaction to alcohol), and then that damned boy had come up. He hadn’t even said anything strange, just teased them about sex, and– oh. Cosette feels her chest get cold. That’s it. “Eponine,” she says. “Eponine, c’mon.” She nudges her girlfriend’s shoulder lightly, then harder, as Eponine refuses to stir. “Eponine, sweetheart, wake up!” “Fuck off,” mumbles Eponine, but finally does sit up and look at Cosette with sleep-bleared eyes. “The fuck’s your problem?” she wants to know. “I was dreaming about punching Montparnasse in the face.” “Sorry.” Cosette leans up against Eponine, rubbing her back and kissing her shoulder until she starts looking less grumpy, and finally turns for a proper kiss of her own. “What’s up, then?” “I, um.” Cosette had been so determined to have it out with Eponine right now, but now that she has the chance, she can feel her throat closing up. “Well. Um, Eponine…” Eponine must notice that something’s wrong, because she leans in even closer and starts to pet Cosette’s hair in that way she does. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, little bird. What’s wrong?” Cosette closes her eyes tight. She has to do this, has to make things better. She can’t hold Eponine down like this, not when she loves her so much. She’d do anything for Eponine, hasn’t she always said that? So this shouldn’t be a problem, even if it makes her feel sick to her stomach. It shouldn’t even be an issue. She’ll just close her eyes and do it for love. “Eponine,” she says. “Do you wanna have sex?” “What?” Eponine’s voice is sharp with surprise. She shifts on the bed to take Cosette into her arms. “Darling, you’re sex-repulsed. Why the hell would you want that?” I don’t, Cosette wants to say. But that’s the easy way out. Eponine will understand, and they’ll just take things the way they have been, and Eponine will remain unfulfilled and unhappy. Eponine, unhappy— that’s the stuff of Cosette’s nightmares. So she allows herself one shudder, and turns her head for a kiss. “Because you’re sexy.” Eponine ducks away from Cosette’s lips and drops her hand, as if afraid to touch her. Ordinarily, Cosette would be hurt by that, but right now, she can’t help but feel relieved. Every minute that they’re not having sex is a good one for her. Selfishly, she doesn’t pursue another kiss, and instead drops her head against Eponine’s shoulder. “Seriously. You, uh… you turn me on. Let’s do it.” “No.” Now Eponine’s voice is fierce. “Cosette, I’m not going to have sex with you. I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but it’s not happening. I’m not taking advantage of you. Who the fuck do you think I am?” When she puts it that way, it does sound bad. But Cosette’s on a mission, and she knows what she wants (or at least, what she could want). “I do want it,” she says. “You don’t. Why would you? What’s going on?” What is Cosette even supposed to say to that? Damn it, this isn’t supposed to be difficult. Sex is meant to be nothing more than a biological mechanism for reproduction; why is it so hard to talk about? She takes a second to gather her thoughts, then swallows. “Okay. So, I noticed you were pretty upset tonight at the bar after that guy asked us about sex. And I know you’re not ace, and I am, and it’s gotta be hard for you, and I love you and I want to make you happy, so if you want, we can, we can…” Cosette has to swallow a lump of bitterness that rises unbidden in her throat before she can go on. “Eponine, if you want to, let’s have sex.” Eponine stops breathing. Cosette can feel it. Very slowly, she brings her hand up to pet Cosette’s hair once again. “I think you have the wrong idea,” she says. “I don’t want to have sex with you, Cosette. I never did.” “But…” “Yes, you’re beautiful, and yes, I can’t help but be attracted to you. But I would never want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I love you so much, little bird. Why would I need sex? Just being with you is more than enough.” Something in Cosette’s chest gets a little warmer. She’s beginning to thaw out again. But still… “Why were you so upset, then? You’re usually not that pissed when guys talk to us.” “I was worried about you. I know you can handle yourself, but I didn’t know whether you would be upset to talk about sex when you weren’t expecting it. That asshole could have made you uncomfortable, and that’s not okay.” “So… you weren’t mad because we don’t have sex?” “God, no. Oh, Cosette, is that what you were thinking?” Cosette ducks her head to rub her nose against the fabric of Eponine’s flannel. Originally, it was one of hers, but now it smells like Eponine’s cinnamon-apple body wash, and it’s comforting. “I didn’t think so,” she says. “But then that happened, and you were so upset, and I started doubting myself and I couldn’t stop thinking…” “You poor thing.” Eponine shifts and pulls her onto her lap. She might be the smaller one in the relationship, but right now, her arms are Cosette’s castle, strong enough to keep the negative thoughts at bay. “Cosette, I mean it. You’re so precious to me, and our relationship is perfect as it is, no sex needed. I would never be upset about that. I mean, we have our own type of intimacy, we have love, we have friendship within out love, we have a drawer full of vibrators we can use whenever we start feeling that type of way— what else could we possibly need?” Cosette can’t help but laugh at this last part, although it’s a little weak and sniffly. There are tears in her eyes that she can’t blink away. “You mean it?” “I promise.” “I love you.” The tears are flowing now, but Cosette couldn’t care less. She presses a watery kiss to Eponine’s lips. “God, Eponine, I love you. I love you so much.” “And I love you, angel.” Cosette kisses her again, and they lose themselves in the sweetness for what could be minutes or hours, just drinking in each other’s company, unhurried, unpressed, and gentle. There’s no expectation of anything else, just kissing and soft endearments for their own sake, and Cosette doesn’t think she’s ever known a peace so perfect. “Sorry I got insecure,” she says after awhile, though, because she feels like she should address it, if just to clear her own head. “You know I’m proud of who I am, and I wouldn’t want to be any other way, but sometimes, I worry.” “And that’s valid.” Eponine smiles teasingly, drawing on Cosette’s propensity to bless any and all things with validation, and boops her on the nose. “But you know, I’m always here, and I’ll always reassure you, because this is true— I wouldn’t want you to be any other way, either.” How did Cosette ever get so lucky? She has no idea. Eponine is truly one of the best things that’s ever happened to her. She wraps her arms around her and tucks her head against the crook of her neck, just breathing her in, basking in the warmth and comfort that her presence provides. Tonight might have started off badly, but it’s perfect now. “I love you so much,” she says. “I hope you never get tired of hearing that.” “Don’t worry.” Eponine touches a kiss to her forehead, blessing, promise, and adoration all at once. It feels like everything good in this world. “I never will.”