#anyway no one really touches my hair anymore so it's really a bar dedicated to my mom when she tries to dye my hair w/out me having a fit

[lillybean730]

i like to visualize myself as having stat bars to help me figure out how i feel

there is an entire bar dedicated to "how much i can tolerate someone touching my hair"

[arrowflier]

Fic prompt: How do people who tangentially know Ian react when Gay Jesus goes viral? Do they reach out to Ian/the Gallaghers? Lip's college friends, Milkovich cousins, ROTC classmates, Kash and Linda ... Is Gus Pfender telling someone Gay Jesus was his brother-in-law for 4 seconds? :D

I Heard it Through the Grapevine

“This is a pretty new one,” Gus Pfender said into the mic, sitting onstage at a little bar on the outskirts of New York City. “About a girl I knew a while back. A girl that was totally crazy, you all know the type.” He paused and waited for the knowing laughter to die down.

“No, but really though, she was!” he continued, idly tapping on the neck of his guitar as he talked. “She got me to marry her and everything, then slept with her ex, then tried to marry some other guy before we were even separated! Can you believe that?”

The laughter was more awkward that time, but he didn’t notice.

“Anyway, turns out she came by crazy honestly, runs in the family or something.” Even his band mates were starting to get a little antsy behind him, but he wasn’t quite done throwing his ex under the metaphorical bus.

“Yeah, get this—her little brother started a cult, called himself Gay Jesus or somethin’. Just saw him on the news—he blew up a van!” Gus laughed so hard he almost fell off his stool, but the audience was quiet.

The drummer cleared his throat behind him, and Gus finally got with the program, righting himself and coughing into the mic before saying, “Anyway, here it is; sing along loud if you know it, maybe she’ll hear us all the way back in Chicago.”

And he launched into the opening chords of “Fuck You Fiona”.

In the audience, Mandy Milkovich straightened up at the first round of Fiona’s name echoing around the dimly lit room. Her date—well, her client—touched her arm, and she jerked away before she could remember herself. Remember that she was supposed to like being touched, now.

“Sorry,” she simpered at the short older man, putting her hand on his when he let it fall to the table between them. “You just surprised me, hun.”

She smiled at him sweetly, pressing her tongue to the back of her teeth until it hurt. “Be right back,” she promised him quickly, before standing and grabbing her purse from the back of her chair. “Just need to go freshen up for you.”

She cringed as she said it, but it had the desired effect, the man just waving her away as he turned his attention back to the stage just in time for the rousing chorus of “fuck you”.

As soon as the bathroom door slammed shut behind her, Mandy was leaning over the sink, breathing heavily. Chicago. Fiona. Crazy family. Little brother.

Ian.

She fumbled in her purse for her phone, a sleek black thing that one of her more dedicated clients had bought for her. She swiped past the homescreen that he had set to a picture of the two of them, and opened up her browser.

Ian Gallagher she typed in, holding her breath as the results of the search loaded.

It came out in a single whoosh when she saw it, leaving her limp against the dirty porcelain.

Chicago’s Ian ‘Gay Jesus’ Gallagher Charged with Arson and Destruction of Property read the very top headline. Mandy skimmed the rest through the tears that filled her eyes, not daring to let them fall.

Ian Gallagher, middle child of six, pled guilty by reason of insanity at his trial last week, claiming his unmedicated bipolar disorder was the reason for his irrational behavior.

Oh god, Ian.

Last time she saw him, Ian had his shit together. He had a job, and a boyfriend, and he was taking his meds, and he kept her calm and helped her deal with a fucking body and gave her a place to stay for the night. What had happened since then? How had things gone so wrong for him again?

She didn’t know. She needed to know. She needed to know that he was okay.

Mandy bit her lip, mind racing as she considered her options. None of them were good. Mickey was gone. She didn’t speak to the rest of her family. She could call Iggy, or Colin she supposed, but she wasn’t even sure they weren’t in jail themselves. Besides, if they weren’t, she didn’t want Terry overhearing.

With shaking hands, she dialed a number she had been pretending she didn’t know, instead. A number that she had been trying her best to forget.

Phillip Gallagher picked up on the very first ring.

“Yeah, alright. No, I know, Mandy. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted.”

Lip sighed as he pressed the end call button, rubbing a hand over his face. Joaquin, sitting next to him, blew a stream of smoke in Lip’s face until he straightened again, coughing.

“The hell was that for, asshole?” he asked, waving the smoke away. “You know how much shit I’m gonna get if Tami smells that on me?”

Joaquin snorted. “Still can’t believe you shacked up with your baby-mamma, man,” he teased. “You have a kid now, what the fuck?”

“Yeah, well,” Lip muttered, reaching over to steal the joint right out of his hand despite his warnings about the smell. “A lot of things have changed since the last time I saw you.”

No shit. The last time Joaquin had seen Lip Gallagher, he’d been helping him steal money from the high-end startup Lip was working for. Then he’d just disappeared, only to wander into the little cafe where Joaquin liked to take lunch just a few days ago. They’d been catching up a little bit each day since, but Joaquin’s head was still spinning trying to equate this short-haired, run-down family man with the brilliant guy he knew back in the day.

“So, who was that?” Joaquin pried. “Who’s Mandy? You two-timing your girl already, Gallagher?”

“Fuck no,” Lip exclaimed, nearly spitting out the joint. Joaquin snatched it back immediately—the Gallagher he knew never would have risked the good stuff like that.

“No,” Lip repeated more calmly. “I uh, used to date her,” he revealed. “Before I knew you. But that was a long time ago.”

Joaquin nodded. “So what’s she callin’ you for then?”

Lip rubbed at his lip—Joaquin giggled in his head at that thought—and went quiet for a long moment. Joaquin just sat by him and smoked, content to wait it out.

“She was asking about my brother,” Lip answered finally. “They were friends.”

“Which brother?” Joaquin questioned. “The janitor, or the crazy one?”

Lip eyed him oddly. “The janitor is the crazy one,” he said, but Joaquin shook his head.

“No, no,” he rambled, “the little guy, the one you thought was dealin’.”

“Carl?” Lip clarified, and laughed, fingers picking idly at the knee of his jeans. “Nah, Carl’s actually doin’ alright now, I think. It’s Ian. The one you met.”

“What’s goin’ on with him?”

Lip hesitated, and then, “You heard about Gay Jesus?” he asked, and Joaquin felt his eyes go wide. He almost dropped the joint himself this time.

“No way,” he breathed out. “That was him?” He gestured wildly. “With the kids, and the cult, and the van?”

“That was him,” Lip confirmed grimly. “Off his meds, we think. That’s what he says, at least.”

Joaquin whistled, and handed the joint back. “Think you need this more than me right now,” he said.

Lip didn’t disagree when he took it.

Linda looked up when a stranger entered her store, then promptly rolled her eyes and went back to her magazine. The kids were with the sitter and the store was practically empty, so there was no reason not to take some time for herself for once. A single stoner wandering around the aisles wasn’t that much of a concern.

Still, she kept an eye on him as he poked through what they had to offer. He wasn’t bad looking, despite his floppy hair and red-rimmed eyes—reminded her a little bit of a young Kash, even.

She promptly hated herself for thinking of her absent, no-good husband, and hated the stranger in the store for making her do it.

So when he finally came to the counter, holding two bags of chips and a Red Bull, she might have been just a tad ruder than normal.

“Put it on the counter,” she ordered gruffly when he just stood there, staring into space.

“Whoa, yeah, sorry, sorry,” he rambled, doing as he was bid. “Just came from visiting a buddy, guess I left my mind behind a bit, huh?” He giggled. A grown man just giggled in her store.

“Maybe you know them, the Gallaghers?” He continued while she rang him up. Her hands barely paused when she heard the name. That was a long time ago, and they didn’t come here anymore.

The stoner was still talking, though. “Man they’ve had some bad luck, you know?” He shook his head. “First with Lip’s stuff, now his brother again?”

Linda stilled, bag of chips still in hand.

“Which brother?” she asked despite herself. She shouldn’t care, but somehow she still did. That little shit had stolen her husband, got his boyfriend shot in her store, and bailed on her with no warning, but when he had been there, he had been good to her. Helped her run the store, even helped her with the kids if she begged. She’d been sad to hear it when he went off the rails, but the rumor around town was that he was doing better, now.

“The crazy red-haired one,” the stoner answered, and she guessed a rumor was all it had been. “They call him Gay Jesus now, he blew up a van and everything.”

“Ten seventy-five,” she told him, not commenting any more on the topic. It wasn’t her business.

But as the stranger walked out the door, leaving her to her magazine again, she considered sending some sort of basket to the Gallagher house. For old time’s sake.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t even notice the bell over the door ring a second time as someone else hurried out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Iggy Milkovich muttered to himself as he rushed off down the street away from the Kash’N’Grab, forgetting to even steal anything in his hurry.

Ian fucking Gallagher. Gay fucking Jesus. How had nobody around him seen that coming?

Iggy remembered when Ian was living with them, before he went crazy the first time. Or while he went crazy the first time? Who fucking knew, that kid was always off the rails if he thought taking up with Iggy’s kid brother right under Terry’s nose was a good fucking idea.

But there was that one time, when things were mostly still going good, when he remembered hearing Mickey talk to his boy about crashing some funeral. A funeral for a fairy soldier that Ian knew when he was going by his brother’s name out at bootcamp. They’d come home from that thing with Ian practically vibrating, bouncing off the walls with fury at the protest they had wandered into, and he had seen the way it made Mickey freak out.

Mickey was in Mexico now. Iggy knew that. Everybody fucking knew that, even if they pretended they didn’t. And it was a bad fucking idea for him to find out about this, for so many reasons.

But Iggy couldn’t do that to his brother. He couldn’t hide something like this. And if Mickey found out some other way, from someone else…well. There was no saying what stupid shit that fucker might do.

So when he got home, he hit the bong to calm his racing heart. Then he picked up the phone, and dialed a number he wasn’t supposed to know.

“Yeah, thanks Ig,” Mickey said into his burner phone. “I already knew.”

His partner for the day, some new cartel wannabe that got paired up with the Gringo to see how he managed the streets, gave him a weird look as he shoved the phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“Who was that?” the burly man asked, voice rough, and Mickey rolled his eyes.

“Your girlfriend,” he answered dryly. “Wanted to know if I had dropped your ass in the grave yet so we can go fuck in peace.”

The idiot looked like he actually believed it, and Mickey snorted.

“A fuckin’ contact, okay?” he revealed. “And none of your fuckin’ business ‘til you manage to climb the ladder past ‘basic bitch errand boy’, so get the shit and let’s get movin’.”

At least the moron followed instructions.

Mickey wiped a hand over his face while the other man’s back was turned, gathering himself. It was confirmed, then. First by those weird-ass rainbow shirts, and now by Iggy, who wouldn’t lie to him about something like that. Ian Gallagher had gotten himself in trouble, and Mickey wasn’t there to save him this time.

He sighed as his partner came back with the rest of the goods, and they set off to a new position on the next corner.

One way or another, it looked like Mickey Milkovich was going back to Chicago.

[kissme-hs]

Tainted love: 3

Here it is!! I’m so sorry it took me so long to update it but let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy it.

~Ria

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Chris Evans

Warnings: None.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Hatred is far from the feeling you felt. You were disgusted. Utterly disgusted with the man you put your trust and faith and your heart into who did nothing but took it for granted and it all into little crumbs of pain. All this time you blamed yourself for HIS actions that he not only did while being in his complete sense but knowing how wrong it is-continued doing it. The image you had of Chris in your mind now vanished, the man you once thought deserved to be prayed now made your stomach churn because of how shameful he turned out to be.

After sending him the text you thought, oh you thought that he would realize what he lost, that he would feel a little bit at least of regret in the back of his head but you were so wrong. It not only made you feel worthless but made you realize instead how your love meant nothing to him, how all those years you spent in each other’s arm vowing to each other to be in love until the end of time was nothing but a lie to him. Where to you it meant your entire life.

One doesn’t stay with a person for three years not to just fuck and say I love you’s for fun. With the years the feelings grow strong and at some point, you start fantasizing marrying that person, having kids with the person, grow old with the person. But when one decides to go and cheat, putting all the years of love in ignorance and throwing it all in the pit of darkness not only everything changes but the dreams once knitted by the eyes of the one who remained faithful in love, who was the true lover gets struck by the lightening of reality. And once the dreams crashes, it becomes nearly impossible to dream again because the dreamer starts seeing the real world.

Fuck dreams.

Became your to go motto ever since you knocked on his door.

The heavy teal door opened after a few knocks as you held your breath getting yourself ready to face the man who ripped your heart apart. But instead you were met by a pair of green eyes, gorgeous eyes. She stood there in his hoodie and a pair of short showing her perfect toned legs. Her dirty blonde hair and fuller plumps would made any man lose his girl and go crawling to her. She was an absolute piece of art.

“Chris we have someone here for you” She yelled leaning back a bit so the man could hear her. She gave you a side smile as a gesture of kindness. She was aware she was a homewrecker, she knew how much Chris loved you and she also knew being a good friend she should’ve stopped him when things became a routine between them two but she couldn’t say no to him. Chris would make any women go crawling to him too. She was equally shameful for what she has done not as close to how Chris was feeling but still. So when Chris asked her to come over explaining her what happen which she knew would some day she didn’t hesitate coming over comforting him.

“i-im Samantha” she replied stepping aside letting you step inside of your his house. The smell of familiar cologne and candles hit your nostrils making you tear up from the past good memories. Gi ving her a tiniest sad smile and a nod, you stepped inside of the house. Turning your gaze up to the sound of approaching footsteps you saw the man, and oh sweet jesus you thought you’d hate him but how could you when the feeling of love was always greater than hatred. But the pain crept up when you saw Samantha walking to him and rubbing his side comforting him, though she was guilty, she still at some point enjoyed the attention Chris gave her.

Though she might have a portion of kindness in her heart she was known for breaking homes. She was used to getting in pants of men who were committed. It made her feel special; it made her feel like gold that everyone loved chasing. Especially in this case, knowing what a prize Chris’s girlfriend, you were she was over the moon. She loved how Chris was willing to give up a beautiful woman with a proper job and who had her life sorted for someone who was nothing compared to you.

“Y/n” he breathed out ignoring the woman rubbing his arm. His eyes getting wet seeing your face after days. Jeez only if he could kiss you and tell you how much he missed you and loved you.

“I-im sorry, I’m so sorry” He said walking to you as you raised your hand telling him to stop, which he understood nodding his head and taking a step back. He felt the ache in his heart.

“He really is sorry, he told me everything after you texted him so I came running” Samantha uttered rubbing Chris’s back. It did nothing to you but made your blood boil as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath not wanting to say something which could hurt her feelings. Opening your mouth telling her to leave you heard Chris say that instead.

“Can I ask you to leave please?” He asked her taking a deep breath trying not to yell either.

“I-“

“Get out, get off my property” you spat. You and Chris jointly brought this house so you wouldn’t feel a burden on him being the independent woman you were. Feeling like she was shamed in front of two successful people, Samantha gathered her stuff and left within the next coming minute. Though you were a softie, there was no doubt you has a powerful side too.

“I’m sorry baby, I am so sorry. Please give me a second chance.”

“Why Chris? Why did you cheat on me? Was my love was not enough for you to sleeping with her. Tell me Chris did you not feel a little bit of shame fucking on OUR bed? Tell me why did you have to go and do that making me look like a fool? Why did you waste my time? WHY DID YOU FAKED THE LOVE if you wanted to cheat?” You finally let it out. You were crying at this not giving a fuck. He deserved to see how broken he left you. You were not going to act like everything was fine, like you didn’t care when you felt dead inside.

“No. No baby. Never for once I ever faked my love for you.” He cried cupping your cheeks-you finally let him touch you because you wanted to feel his warmth on your cold skin. His own eyes crying as you sobbed yourself.

“I-I don’t know why I did that. I don’t know why I decided to chase a rock when I had the most precious diamond. She is nothing compared to you. Nothing. I love you so much” He whispered resting his forehead against yours. You knew deep down he meant what he said. You felt the words hitting your body making your knees go week but it was for the best. The separation. So pushing him back slightly you gathered your broken pieces up.

“I just came to tell you that I am moving to California. I will always cherish the good memories you gave me” you gave him a broken smile wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

“No please give me one more chance” Chris pleaded grabbing your hands. His defeated eyes begged yours to give in, to see that he wasn’t lying anymore. That he was truly sorry for what he has done but being the strong headed woman you are, you shook your head and wiped his tears with your hand before cupping his cheek.

“It’s for the best. I still love you, but it’s not the same Chris. Let me let you go”

That was an year ago. An year ago you left the man standing on his porch as you turned your back on his forever, making your way to the new life that waited ahead of you in Los Angeles. The city of angels. The city that gave you a chance to put your words into songs, let your shattered voice sing it in a melody helping you reach out to him without reaching out to him.

And today you stood in front of over 100 amazing successful celebrities who warmly welcomed you in the family of Hollywood and decided to join you for your album launch party. You didn’t hesitate writing down your deepest condolences you had for yourself and singing it out. Every word people heard in the songs came from the bottom of your heart. Came within the true feeling of getting lost and found again.

Getting into the industry wasn’t hard for you. You were already a known person working for Hollywood and it not only being the reason how you met Chris it also gave you an opportunity  to let your talent out. All those months you spent working hard to get acceptance by one of the music producers was the time when Chris was fucking Samantha. Only if he stayed the night you begged him to, he would’ve known it all.

Your album was dedicated to Chris. No one knew expect you. No one could know anyways.

Stepping down the mini platform where you expressed you gratitude to the audience you made your way to where the bar was set up to drink in the emotions that were bubbling up your throat from all the love you received to the pain that still ached in every nerve in your body. It was impossible to erase the memory of him fucking Samantha from your head. You were proud to you say you tried. Tried every way of escaping his face haunting your dreams every night. The feelings choking you down. The pain eating you alive. But you couldn’t.

“What you said there was beautiful.” You heard the deep voice of the man who you left standing on the door of Boston an year ago. Turning your body around, mentally preparing yourself for the wave of mixed emotions to hit you like a truck you faced his adorningly beautiful face. His beard looked fuller and his hair fluffier. He looked the same but his eyes looked dead, just like they were when you left.

“Thank you.” You gave him a broken smile.

“Can we talk? Please?” He asked you with eyes full of hope and you nodded letting him guide you out to the balcony that had the perfect view of the city. He deserved some time with you after an year of you completely blocking him out. He deserved to know that the words coming out of your mouth in the song were written about him.

“It about you, you know. The album” You said walking over to the railing looking at the illuminous city.

“I figured, I never knew you were working on something so big.” He stood beside you.

“You would have if you stayed”

“Listen, I’m not going to waste any more time. Im here to beg you back in life, I am sorry for what I have done but please give me a chance. That one year spent without you was my living hell. Everyday I prayed for you to come back but you never did and there’s no question why. I am a horrible man but I promise if you let me prove it that I am so much better than I was I wont let you down. I will love you even more than I ever have” he said with a soft voice guilt dripping with every word he spoke making you turn around to face him. His eyes glistening with tears and his hands holding each other in front of his chest.

Man was literally begging you.

“Hey you are not a horrible man.” You whispered walking to him as you put his hands down and held his one cheek in your hand. He instantly nuzzled his nose feeling your skin after days of being away from you. His knees were giving away and so was his heart.

“We all make mistakes but learning from them and moving on is important. I forgave you the minute I stepped away from our relationship. You’re nothing but still the most precious man I ever had” you said. Your own eyes picking the tears.

“then give me a chance” he spoke kissing your palm staring down In your eyes making your belly turn in knots.

“I cant. I have moved on Chris” You said breaking his heart. He breathed out biting his lower lip as he looked on. He never felt so defeated and helpless. But this is what he deserved for throwing away the best he ever had. For not respecting the beautiful relationship and woman he was meant to guard. He opened his mouth but the lump in his throat got in the way. He could just break down.

“Then let me be your friend. I just want to be in your life. Make up for what I’ve missed. Please don’t say no.” He trembled in fear you would reject him but instead you nod your head and pull him in a hug knowing he would break if you didn’t. Still knowing him like the back of your head you gave in his request hoping you could contain the emotions.

It is said, two who once fell in love can never be friends. Once in love, always in love.

So you stood there holding him, closed your eyes letting the man calm his cries. Falling back in the chakra of tainted love.

-

Tags

@captainchrisstan

@evansphnx12

@adriannajackson

[wkemeup]

Call to Action

inbox request: “hiii i'm really curious what's gonna happen if bucky gets assigned to work undercover again? 🥰“ by @sarge-barnes-sir​ ❤️ pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 1.7k warnings: sweet loving angel bucky, kas cant let go of this series yet  a/n: surprise!!! we’re not done with our Sundays yet! I do plan on doing more of these, so keep sending in ideas if you have them!  🌹series masterlist 🌹

You woke to an empty bed; sunlight streaming in delicately from the soft overlay of ivory curtains and the soothing scent of a freshly steeped tea at your bedside, steam still rising from the mug. Stretching your arms up over your head and then out to the sides, you frowned as your fingers curled around the empty sheets beside you.

“You can’t ask me to do that, Steve,” Bucky’s hushed voice carried from the kitchen.

You turned to the door, narrowing your eyes upon the thin crack in its frame. It wasn’t unusual for Steve to be at the apartment, but the clock to your left told you it was far too early for a friendly visit. Judging by the tone in Bucky’s voice, it couldn’t be anything good.  

“It’s not me, Buck. It’s way over my head.”

You quietly pushed aside the sheets, setting bare feet on the hardwood floors and grabbed for the robe hanging over the bathroom door. You slipped it quickly through your arms and wrapped it at the waist before you carefully pushed open the door. Disregarding the state of your hair laying frizzy and untamed at your shoulders, you crept down the hall.

Bucky was pacing in the kitchen, hands clenching at his sides, head shaking defiantly as he muttered under his breath. Steve sat at the table, watching with every stride Bucky took as he laid back into the chair; though the rigidity of his posture betrayed the calm persona he put on.

“I’m not going back under,” Bucky asserted. He didn’t seem to notice you emerge from the hallway as he continued to pace divots into the tile of the kitchen floors, but Steve did. His back straightened, his expression melting into something mirroring an apology as he met your eye.

“I’ve been out for almost a year,” Bucky continued, stare focused on the floor, tunnel-visioned and disregarding Steve’s attempts to draw his attention to you. “I told Fury I was done, Steve. He can’t pull me back in! Hydra was my last job and I’m-- I’m not leaving Y/n after everything we went through. So... So, you can tell Fury to fuck off!”

An unsettling silence took over; only Bucky’s muffled footsteps and labored breaths carrying through. You hadn’t realized how tightly your jaw had clenched until you tried to speak.

“They’re sending you undercover again?”

Bucky froze dead in his tracks, his head snapping up to find you watching him from the hallway. His eyes were wide, lips parted. He uncurled his hands, though it looked as though it ached to do so, and brushed them on his pants. Light blue plaid, white t-shirt with the neck a little stretched out. He was still in his pajamas.

“No,” he answered quickly though it wavered in his voice. He closed his eyes, hearing the hesitancy and he dropped his chin to his chest. He took a minute, found his breath, and when he looked at you again, he softened, a smile pushing up at his lips though it seemed forced. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t think you’d be up so early.”

Bucky made his way to you, his hands gently settling on your shoulders and soothing their way down your arms to encase your hands in his own. You kept your stare on his chest, trying to find something to focus on, and it helped as he squeezed your hands. Something real. Something solid. Bucky.

“I thought you were training recruits,” you murmured.

“I was.” Bucky winced as it came out. “I am.”

“Fury’s used to relying on Buck for this stuff,” Steve explained, slowly standing from his spot at the table. “He wasn’t happy when Bucky stepped down from the field. You’ve got to understand, he lost the guy who’s got more successful undercover OPs than anyone else in the Bureau. Bucky’s good at what he does. He put a lot of bad guy behind bars and saved a lot of lives.”

You knew. Probably more than most people.

“They can’t make him, can they?” You hated how small your voice sounded; frail like a child’s. You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s waist, afraid that if you lost contact with him for even a second, he’d be pulled away. You missed how Bucky glanced back in Steve’s direction for the same assurance.

“No, they can’t,” Steve replied calmly, a slight smile on his lips just barely noticeable.

You nodded, though it didn’t ease the racing in your heart. You held your arms tightly around Bucky, listening for his heartbeat to center yourself. “Do you want to?”

“What? Of course, not,” Bucky replied without skipping a beat. “Why would you even ask that?”

You shrugged. “You’ve saved so many people. You're clearly meant for this work, Bucky. I don’t want to keep you from that.”

You knew what that felt like; to be held from the one thing that made you feel whole, to be pushed into the shadows of a life you were never meant for, to be cast off to something less than what you deserved. It was different from what Brock had done to you, but it still had the same result, didn’t it? You were keeping Bucky from the job he dedicated his life to.

Bucky shifted slightly in his stance and he gently began to pry your arms from around him. It caused a jolt of panic at first, but then his hands soothed their way up your arms, to cup at the side of your face, guiding you to meet his eyes; stunning painted brushstrokes of blues and greys and oceans and summer skies.

“You’re not keeping me from anything,” Bucky told you, a sincerity heavy in his voice. “I promised that nothing would take me from you again and I meant that. I’m not leaving you.”

Your eyes fell downcast, struggling to hold his gaze. “But if I wasn’t around--”

“But you are,” Bucky pressed, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then the other, then the tip of your nose, until he pulled back with a smile. “I love you, sweetheart. That changes things. Before I met you, I would have taken any case I could get my hands on for the excuse to throw myself into a world that wasn’t my own. I would have jumped at the chance to pretend to be someone else for a while and lose myself in a new identity. But I don’t want that anymore. I want to be here. With you. I want to spend all my days loving you. Is that so much to ask?”

Another kiss to your temple, then your jaw, your cheekbone, until you were smiling again. He was so beautiful when he looked at you like that, like he thought the whole world of a woman who spent so many years told she was nothing.

“I just don’t want you to wake up one morning and feel like you lost something by being with me,” you explained slowly, quietly, and your eyes trailed down to his chest to avoid his eyes.

“Not possible,” Bucky eased and you felt his lips as the touched the crown of your head. “There hasn’t been a morning that’s gone by where I haven’t woken up feeling like I’m the luckiest man alive.”

You looked up at him, awe and wonder, stunned silence, and he gently leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips. Steve was still standing in the kitchen, averting his gaze, though he was smiling. Bucky brushed a thumb over your lips as he pulled back.

“Doesn’t matter what I do for a living,” Bucky continued. “You’re by my side. That’s all that matters.”

You grinned up at him, a laugh bubbling under the surface. “But you hate the recruits.”

“I don’t hate the recruits,” Bucky argued, rolling his eyes when Steve began to snicker from the kitchen table. “They’re just little shits that would walk head first into a wall if I didn’t hold their hands.”

He was laughing again, bright and joyful, and tension hanging thick in the apartment began to dissolve away. Bucky turned back to Steve, his arms held tight around you.

“We good, brother?”

Steve nodded, a rare smile upon his face. “Yeah, man.”

“What will you tell Fury?” Bucky asked.

Steve pursed his lips. “Pretty sure if I remember your words correctly... ‘fuck off.’”

Bucky winced. “Maybe not that.”

Steve shook his head, that same carefree smile on his face he reserved for quiet moments like these upon his face. It was really quite sweet when you thought about it. This broad, stoic man with the weight of his team on his shoulders who only learned to let go when he knew it was safe. He cared so deeply for his friends and you were proud that Bucky had someone in his life like Steve.

“Sam’s been itching for his turn in the field for a while now anyway.” Steve shrugged, beginning to gather his things and head to the door. “I’d say it’s about time we break in the new kid to fill his spot. Danvers is a hell of a recruit, Buck. You did good.”

“She won’t take your shit, Rogers,” Bucky teased as he squeezed you a little closer. “Sam's either. Nat will love her.”

“She’ll fit right in.” Steve laughed.

There was a pause, a beat, and Steve held his stance by the door for a moment longer.

“I never thought I’d see a day when Bucky would turn down a job,” Steve said, leaning against the frame. There was a gratefulness in his eyes as he looked at you, a soft smile upon his lips. “It’s nice to see you happy, man. You got a good woman to thank for that.”

Steve nodded at you, an appreciation you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to grasp completely, and you smiled back at him. Bucky chuckled a little, heat rising in his cheeks and he nodded in agreement. As Steve, turned to leave, you felt Bucky press a kiss to your forehead; the little reminders that he was there, that he loved you, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

[wrctings]

Bill Guarnere x Reader | Not without you

i really wanted to write about bill (of course all my respect goes to the real veteran, this is only based on the show) ❣️ warnings: cursing, strong language

It is with an irritated grunt that you hoist yourself upon one of the stools facing the bar, the heavy sigh that erupts from the depths of your irked mood shattering the frisky and overly-joyful atmosphere that came with off-duty nights of such kind. Under different circumstances, you were certain to have wholeheartedly relished in whatever celebration your friends were engaged in, either joining a heated game of darts — always resulting in the trade of many packs of cigarettes before a crowd of sprightly figures —, or partaking in an often drunken yet dedicated rendition of a song you do not always know the precise lyrics of. But on that evening, even as you recognise many bright faces that you trusted unquestionably and would be sure to spend a good time with among the swarm of uniforms, the exuberant force that would have pulled you straight to them had been receding due the very cause of your acrimony. Namely, Bill Guarnere. 

Even though the black-haired man has not yet noticed your coming in, busy downing a beer to Joe Toye and Babe Heffron’s cheering, you had made sure to pinpoint his exact location so as to contrive better ways to escape from the Sergeant’s attention. If you weren’t going to enjoy your night as plentifully as you would have without the incident that had caused your rancour, at least you would rather do so out of sight from the one who ruined it for you. 

“Why the long face, Sergeant?” 

You dismally swing around your stool, meeting George Luz’s playful grin. As he takes a better look at your indeed disheartened expression, your friend sits beside you, repeating in his best Cpt. Sobel voice: 

“Sergeant, if you disobey a direct order by not telling me what’s going on, I’ll cancel all of your weekend passes. Forever.” 

With George’s sudden materialisation and comforting humour, your spirits raise slightly and you even crack a smile, catching the gleeful twinkle in the soldier’s eyes. And yet, even with the effervescent talking pounding against your eardrums and the strong wafts of alcohol intertwined with smoke inundating the room from all parts, synonymous to the parties you took such delight in after days of combat and agonising battling against your own fear and torment, you still don’t feel like leaving your corner. In addition to this, Luz’s casual kindness only increases your resentment toward Guarnere. 

“What the hell is a weekend pass anyway?” you shoot back, half-amused. Ever since Easy Company made their jump in Normandy, weeks ago, Toccoa Camp and Captain Sobel’s tantrums have seemed so far away. ‘Going back’ now refers to Albourne, which, although not quite being home, nonetheless became a place whose name resonated with a sense of warmth that is always welcome after days of duty. 

George makes his pint of beer slide toward you on the surface of the bar counter, as though attempting to cheer you up differently as he notices that your state of mind hasn’t grown much merrier. “Drink up, Y/n. What’s the matter with you? Go get shit-faced while you still can,” he encourages you in a manner not at all subtle. 

“Thanks, George.” You comply, thankful, and take a gulp from his drink — the stream of alcohol prickles the inside of your mouth, its hardly-resistible appeal already enticing you to take another sip. “I won’t give this back to you, you know that, right?” 

“How dare you, Sergeant, this is United States army property!” The man doesn’t lose an occasion to impersonate Sobel again, this time succeeding in extracting a laugh from you. 

“There you are!”

Your attention then gets drawn by another silhouette emerging from the mass of clustered soldiers, striding toward Luz and you while clutching an empty pint of beer in each hand. 

“Hey, it’s Joe Toye himself!” George heartily pats his friend on the back. “Coming back for more?”

“Hell yeah,” the other man approves, slamming his load of glasses upon the piece of furniture before him. “Get me another drink, will you?” He shouts toward the man behind the bar, signaling for the private to get him a refill, before turning to you. “So, what are you doing here?” he inquired, bemused. “Why aren’t you out there partying? By that time of the night we’re usually third-wheeling for you and Garno.” 

“What?” you almost choke on your beer, staring at Toye in bewilderment. 

“Cut the crap, Y/n, we all know about you and Bill,” Joe rolls his eyes, smiling slyly. “He won’t stop looking around any chance he gets, so you better get your ass up there before he loses it.”

“Well why don’t he? If he likes replacing me so much, why don’t he j*rks himself off on his own.” Your stark reply startles both your friends, though Luz interrupts the bitter trail of thoughts that is already running through your mind again. 

“What the hell happened back there?” he asks incredulously, taken aback by the sharpness of your tone.

“Shit, I think I know what this is about,” Joe sighs, even ignoring the beers that were just delivered to him. He frowns, trying to piece back together what he thinks may be the reason for your tartness. “Last time we were out fighting Guarno went outta his way to do something Y/n was ordered to. He got yelled at by Lipton for that. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen you with us ever since. Not when Bill was around, at least. Is that what’s going on?” 

“I—”

“Y/n,” George cut you off insistently, having payed attention to the story. “We already got Krauts tryina kill us, it ain’t gonna make it any easier if some of us turn against each other. Let’s go have fun, okay?” he beseeches you and Toye, glancing at the bustling room. 

“Fine, but he ain’t off the hook,” you consented on reflection, seizing the pint that you’ve monopolised from Luz as you hopped off your chair. Now that your friends are by your side, the prospect of facing Bill doesn’t seem as tedious — wickedly tempting, even. You want to come clean with him, to spit out every ounce of anger you’ve been harbouring in his face, or simply ignore him until he isn’t able to take it any longer. Either way, you want to hurt him as much as he hurt you, belittling you in the line of duty without an explanation, without a single word to explain what was going on. If he can push you around this easily, making you look like you aren’t able to handle the situation on your own, then you have nothing to do with him anymore. 

“Just try not to kill him right away,” Joe swiftly turns around to give you a quick smile as you follow the two men through the room to the clinking of glass. “We still need men to fight the war, remember?”

Alongside Toye and Luz, you find your way toward the table Babe, Guarnere and Johnny are established at, drinking and talking loudly while their sentences are punctuated by sniggers and exclamations. 

“I found some friends of ours who got lost, had to show ‘em the way,” Joe announces humorously as your party stops in its tracks, greeting your fellow paratroopers. You act carefully as to ignore Bill’s gaze, only giving Johnny and Babe a pleased smile, and keep on standing by Luz without coming any closer to Guarnere.

Though a small part of you is itching to witness the puzzled look that makes its way upon the Sergeant’s face when you don’t return his salutation, you refuse to yield to further temptation and join George and Babe’s discussion instead. You hope to make Bill understand that as long as he doesn’t apologise — or at least tries to vindicate his action, if it is possible —, you are going to act as if nothing had ever gone down between you two. But the truth is, some things have gone down between the two of you, which makes it even harder to stifle the painful feeling that you’ve been carrying around ever since your return to England. The faded touch of Guarnere’s lips still haunts yours, the dimmed feel of his hands still runs along your back. Yet the desire to feel them again is checked by the flashing picture of him departing on the double as you and Carwood exchanged a dismayed look, Bill shouting that he could take care of it just as you were about to obey Lipton’s command. Does he really deem you unable to manoeuvre NT? You don’t know how to else construe his gesture — he must have known what he was doing, because you have never ever since anyone else behave this way on the front line. In the field, you do as you are ordered to, without questioning whom your CO delegates tasks. 

“Hey, Y/n! D’you remember how that song Babe was hummin’ in his sleep went? When we were in the truck.” Guarnere’s voice however reaches you at last, and this time you have no choice but to finally set your eyes upon him with a glare, sparing him none of your displeasure.

“No,” you answer curtly, shifting your attention back onto whatever Luz is saying. But you do recall how the song went, and your heart falters a little when you imagine Bill’s optimism dying out, the man’s speech growing quieter. If only you could resent him as intensely as he upset you.

You keep your interactions with Bill’s corner of the table to a minimum throughout the evening. Although you have eventually relaxed enough to actually take an active part in the chattering all around you, mostly laughing along and sharing anecdotes with Babe and Luz — who are further away from Guarnere —, your pride is still hurt from the latter’s lack of account for his actions. You had confided in Bill how arduous it had been for you to find a place in the army, let alone rise through the ranks, so his carelessness digs particularly deeply into your sensitivity. He, of all people, should have known how hard you tried, and yet he had disregarded it by treating you as if you weren’t capable enough. 

“Well, boys, some people care about a good night’s sleep, so I’m heading off,” you finally declared after finishing your second pint of bear, stretching your arms out before you depart. 

“Already, Sarge? Who knows when we’ll get another night like this,” George tries to change your mind, slightly wavering from tipsiness and exhilaration. “C’mon, we ain’t gotta jump tomorrow.”

“Yes, George, but I feel like you’ll end up jumping from tables in a few hours, and I don’t wanna break my neck joining ya,” you joked, patting your friend on the back. “Good night boys, take it easy.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Babe chuckled, contradictorily taking another sip from his drink. “Good night, Y/n. Don’t let the drunks hook up with you on the way.”

“There’s no chance.”

You spin on your heels after wishing your friend to have a good end of night, then heading toward the exit the room while navigating between the tables and inebriated groups of soldiers stumbling by, and disappear inside the corridor meant to lead you outside the building. As the English family that you are quartered with lives nearby, sneaking into their house this late at night isn’t a problem as long as you remain discreet. 

When the door closes on you, the buzzing sound of the bubbling men you left behind is still ringing in your ears and the faint smell of smoke hasn’t quite dispersed yet, echoes from the on-going party reverberating in the empty corridor. The aftertaste of alcohol is still burning your tongue, but you shiver, away from the warmth of the packed room where elation is chasing the Battalion’s fears and concerns away — far, far away. 

However, you don’t get much time by yourself as the thumping of footsteps arising from the direction you left draws your attention, making you turn around to get yourself acquainted with whoever else is roaming the hallway. You cannot help but scowl as you recognise the man: you didn’t know whether you expected anything from Bill, but now seems to be the time to find out. 

“Y/n, wait,” he calls out for you, so you stop — now could be the time to finally get everything off your chest. As he levels with you, Guarnere’s expression appears defensive, worked up. “What the hell is going on with you?” he asks abruptly, and your eyes anchor into each other’s at last. Your anger swells, enlarged by his unawareness. 

“What the hell is going on with me?” You snap in response, the muscles of your body stiffening as you attempt to keep yourself steady. 

“Yes, what’s your fucking problem!” he immediately retorts, eyebrows severely knitted together. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m sorry Bill, I thought you were too busy trying to prove everyone how tough you are and how good you are and doing other people’s jobs!” you bite back, unable to quench your outburst of rage. “If you think I’m only worth fucking, you better get the hell out of here immediately. Go get laid with someone else, because I was clearly mistaken about you.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” You can see that Bill is still mad, but confusion mixes in with his aggressive comeback as he tries to make sense of your answer. “I don’t fucking get it!”

“Oh, cut the crap. Like doing my job in my place is not a clear message! I’m perfectly capable of getting TNT on my own, Guarnere,” you stated in a more controlled, but deadlier tone. “I don’t need you to think of me as someone in need of your assistance.” 

“Fuck, this is why you’ve been acting so weird?” He understand with a movement from the head, jaw clenched tightly, but his gaze then sets back onto your face. 

“Yes, that’s precisely why,” you start again before he gets the chance to defend himself. “If you really think that I can’t handle things on my own in the field, then you’re wrong.”

“I didn’t do it because I thought you couldn’t!” The dark-haired man exclaims indignantly, the modulation of his voice stronger. 

“Then what is it? Why the fuck is it, Bill, because I don’t understand!” 

“I didn’t go out there because I thought you couldn’t handle it!” He repeats, driven by a virulent impulse. “I did it because that field was brimming with Kraut artillery, and I couldn’t stand the goddamn thought of seeing you collapse among all the other dead bodies!” 

His words hit you so forcefully that your next sentence gets caught in your throat, leaving you speechless for the first since Guarnere has joined you. I couldn’t stand the goddamn thought of seeing you collapse among all the other dead bodies. 

“That’s right,” The Sergeant continues less harshly, catching his breath. “I ran for that TNT instead of you because I didn’t want you to get killed. There, are you happy now?” Too taken aback to come to your senses right away, you process what Bill is saying. You’ve never heard him confess that he cared about you this much before, though your affection and attachement toward each other have been undeniable. “Don’t ever think that I might consider you a lesser soldier than any of the men in this company,” he goes on, intensely looking into your face. “I damn well know what you’re worth. And...” he hesitates, somewhat flustered, but finally opens his mouth again. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

As Bill speaks, the violent emotions that had previously got a hold of you evolve into something else — something even stronger. Something that drives you to him, that makes you want to stand by his side before the entire world, that reminds you more than ever of all the times you have looked at him, and seen a form of reassurance that you never found anywhere else. He takes a step toward you.

“You can’t die for me, Bill. You can’t. I don’t want to lose you either. But we’re done being stupid now, okay?” you whisper, unable to yell anymore while tears are threatening to well up as you cup his face in your hands. All that you feel at once completely throws you off balance, seemingly both emotionally and physically. “There’s enough fighting out there already.”

“We’re done being stupid.” Guarnere’s voice is now barely more audible than yours, and his comforting touch is soothing you down when he feels like it is safe enough to get closer. “I don’t want to do this without you,” he says.

You kiss, his hands running through your hair as you let yourself go to him, pressed against the comforting steadiness of his chest, the fabric of his uniform filled with the warmth of his body. After such a tumultuous night, exhaustion doesn’t take long to descend upon you, but what hits you most is another sudden realisation — you are falling in love with Bill Guarnere. You have been for days. 

The dark-haired man takes you into his arms after your lips break apart, hugging you tightly as he kisses the top of your head, and holds you closely. “Do you wanna go to sleep?” he murmurs, feeling you fully lean into him. “I can walk you to your house, or I know a spot where no one will walk on us.”

“Let’s do that,” you approve against his torso, before adding: “I want to be with you.” You want him to know how much you care about him too. 

“Okay, then come with me. No one should be able to find us.” He takes your hand, leading you through the dark, and is cautious to make sure that you aren’t seen.

Later that might, when you finally fall asleep, it is by Bill’s side. And, long after your eyes are shut and sleepiness has taken you both into its realm, you can still unconsciously feel the man’s heart beating inside his chest, pressed against your back.

[supermanshield]

Finding this is hard

~~~

Yet despite his best efforts tonight, Clark smiles at him, and even through the screen and slightly distorted feed he feels the warmth. Tingling suppressed because it’s nothing like the real deal. The one he’s seen directed at Lois, or when Clark talks about Lana.

Bruce has accepted that Clark will never be interested in him. Until finally, Clark takes a chance.

~~~ 

Words: 5,242

A/N: This only started because I was thinking about the layout of Wayne Manor, and for some reason considered Tim’s room next to Bruce’s. It grew into something much bigger from there, became much too serious and I completely lost track of the humorous angle I wanted to go for at first. Yay angst.

Also, another one in Bruce’s POV, which I always considered harder than Clark’s POV, but I am also working on two+ things with POV Clark.

Read on AO3

 ______________________________________________

“Quiet night?” Soft thud of Clark’s boots on the rooftop behind him and footsteps walking over to where Bruce sits crouched at the edge. An affirmative grunt is all he gives Clark in return, eyes trained on the building across the street and listening to shards of conversation being fed to him by the cowl from the bugs he has planted earlier.

“Stakeout.”  

Minute flicker, Clark shifting in and out of focus, and he sits down next to Batman. “Turned the security camera on the corner over to the building with your guys in it.”

“Hnn. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Don’t use your superspeed though. Don’t need suspects scrambling because they see red and blue.”

He chances a look over at Clark. Squatting down on a grimy rooftop in Gotham, back against the half wall running around the perimeter – good, anyone on the street can only maybe see his black hair and Batman’s cowl blends into the dark of the night anyway –, and hair and cape wet from the rain is not a good look on Superman. He stands out like a sore thumb next to Batman, doesn’t belong here. Yet, it has been a long time since Bruce has sent him out of his city because of all that, his presence now a comfort that has crept up on Bruce. And Clark has learnt, too. Hiding in the shadows just like him and helpful to a level that used to be annoying. It’s not that Bruce is dependent on him for this kind of stuff, he really isn’t. He can just… welcome the company sometime. That’s okay.

“Did you have something to discuss?”

Clark shrugs, one corner of his mouth goes up. “Just thought I’d check up on you.”

“You can use the communicator for that.”

“Right.”

After a while of sitting like this, Clark’s hearing clearly focused on the same conversation as Bruce, they both perk up at the same time. Silently following the suspects is a job for Batman. He sends Superman away, tells him through his comm to go back to Metropolis and silently thanks him for the company.

Much later, after a meet-up with Robin at the docks and on their drive to the Cave, Red Robin behind them on his bike, Bruce considers his relationship with Clark. Damian stays silent in the seat beside him – lets him brood - , and when they get back to the cave, he and Tim (even Tim), both tired, disappear up to the house for a snack and sleep.

Maybe he has let Clark get too close. Got too comfortable around him and let down those meticulously crafted walls. Yet being around Clark isn’t painful anymore, feelings born out of curiosity evaporated a long time ago. A mere physical attraction shoved into the depths of his being when reciprocation turned out impossible. He’s accepted that, Clark is a friend, and Bruce is content with his family, as far as that is possible with two teenagers and an aggressive prepubescent son in the house, and more scattered across the city and the east-coast (he is). It was a necessity to keep Clark at arm’s length, before. Protect them, put yourself last, don’t be selfish, don’t let yourself fall (don’t pull Clark down).

He has even chased Selina for a bit in an attempt to settle down as expected of a man his age and his status, his name, but it ultimately wasn’t worth it. Selina obviously not the right person for settling down and his interest faked, a game of cat and mouse (bat).

So yes, he can be close to Clark. They are friends, after all.

----------

Clark’s brain is a super-computer and more human than Bruce’s at that. It comes in handy when filtering through recordings or data and Bruce can’t think of a better reason to invite him over for dinner and a joint case-study in the cave.

He doesn’t remember the last time Clark has been up in the house and not just in the cave. It’s ridiculous really, they’ve been friends for years, only Bruce hasn’t been acting like one while Clark has put in 100% effort (and only sporadically to the point of annoyance).

Friendship leads to bad things and more, like with Harvey. But Clark is not Harvey.

“Thanks for inviting me for dinner,” Clark says when they walk back down into the cave. “You didn’t have to, I mean. But it’s nice to talk about non-cape stuff for once and see you interact with your kids.”

“I didn’t invite you because I had to, Clark. We’re friends.” Fact, not question and (obviously) obvious to Clark.

“Of course.” But a dazzling smile in his direction (he finds he wants that, more, and that’s exactly why he can’t) and Bruce decides that now is as good a time as any to go on patrol and leave Clark with the brunt of the work that they started on earlier. A few quick commands and suits up, utility-belts packed, and Robin, Red Robin, Batgirl, and Batman speed out of the cave to go on patrol.

----------

A steaming cup of coffee appears on the desk in front of him and Clark sits down in the other chair and swivels towards him. It always goes like this; Bruce will come up early, ready for monitor duty whatever time of the day it is. Clark walks in almost a clockwork five minutes later, coffee or tea in both hands, a quick silent rush of his cape and he reappears with snacks, sometimes dinner (leftovers from Martha’s cooking, and Bruce hears his stomach growl in betrayal at the first waft of chicken, cooked vegetables, goulash). They often get paired up, being in the same time-zone and no one else wants to spend time with Batman much. Except maybe Diana, or J’onn. (But Diana pries too much, seeking out the truth. J’onn doesn’t pry at all, even though he could. With him it is hyper-focus and silence for most of 6 hours.)  

So, it’s fine with Clark, nothing’s expected and there is familiarity in their conversation. The time passes faster and he gladly chooses this over any board meeting where nothing ever gets done anyway. But today monitor duty is during his patrol, and Tim and Damian are out on their own. Together. Dick in Blüdhaven and Cassandra out of commission in bed. One of Bruce’s screens is continuously focused on Gotham, two small figures in capes and chasing bad guys and each other. They do their job and Bruce watches his other screens, listens to Clark and nods appropriately, goes over some new schematics for a suit improvement.

Corner of his eye, peripheral vision is dedicated to the two small figures in Gotham. The screen shows the top of Wayne Tower and Red Robin pacing up and down, clearly talking, unhappy, Robin has crossed his arms. Bruce can interrupt them over the comms, give them a good scare, but they’d never learn. The need for them to work together more poignant as Bruce becomes older and Damian almost ready to join the Teen Titans if it wasn’t for Tim. His heart skips a beat when Damian’s hand goes for his katana, but Tim holds up his in surrender, holding him off and it is fine, they’re okay.

Bruce turns back to his other screens only to find Clark looking at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Clark takes another bite of his Mars bar, feigning oblivion.

“Listen.”

“It’s my hearing, B. I can’t just turn it off.”

“Then focus on something else.” Clark turns back to his side of the monitor bank and Bruce goes back to his work, but he’s lost his focus. Gotham not just in his peripheral vision anymore and of course, Clark notices.

“Want me to go down there? I’ll keep an eye on them. Or you go and I’ll stay here.”

“No, we have a job to do. So do they.”

Clark doesn’t look convinced and something in the back of Bruce’s mind screams of Superman’s disapproving scowl at a brightly coloured child next to Batman’s black cape. But that is a long time ago and Clark looks at him now with a crease between his raised eyebrows and a hand on his shoulder. Worry, a question.

“No,” he says again. “They need to do this together. I trained them. I trust them.”

That hand lingers on his shoulder a moment longer, and Bruce doesn’t shake it off, doesn’t want to. The weight behind Clark’s touch and his gaze ground him, get him out of his thoughts and back to focus on work.

----------

It’s a couple weeks later and they’re all in the cave, Tim and Cass on the matts, sparring, Damian off by the workbench quietly cleaning his gear. Bruce has a video feed open to the Fortress of Solitude, where Superman and Supergirl are looking into the Kryptonian database for the origins of an abandoned alien ship found on Mars. Or at least, Superman is. Kara is playing with newly acquired Krypto, two streaks of red and a blur in the background from time to time. Clark’s family is expanding, too.

Their conversation is all business, small talk quickly waved off by Bruce and he keeps them on track. He has other stuff to do and if Clark can’t find anything about the ship in the Kryptonian data, he’ll contact Oa and let the Lanterns handle it. Yet despite his best efforts tonight, Clark smiles at him, and even through the screen and slightly distorted feed he feels the warmth. Tingling suppressed because it’s nothing like the real deal. The one he’s seen directed at Lois, or when Clark talks about Lana.

“I could uhh… come over?” The uncertainty in Clark’s voice surprises Bruce, but Clark quickly picks up again. “Got everything we need here. I’ll send it to you and we can come up with a plan.”

“The Lanterns can handle it from here,” Bruce says resolutely, pauses. “OK, come over. Bring Kara. I want to have Tim teach her some things about tracking and deduction.” At the mention of her name, Kara appears, now fully visible and Krypto at her side, looking up expectantly at the ball in her hand.

“Hi, guys,” she waves, and Bruce finds Tim and Cass behind him, and even Damian has come much closer. She pretends to hold a magnifier in front of her face. “Detective Kara on the case.” Cass smiles and waves. Tim greets back and says something about listening to detective Tim, smug voice and all smiles. Bruce looks back at Clark to find him still staring at him, holds onto that and Clark’s blue eyes, until Kara speaks again. “Sooo, sleepover at the manor tonight? It’s getting a little boring up here. No offence, Kal.”

Clark holds up his hands. “None taken.”

Bruce cuts in quickly. “No. Tonight’s training and then back home. Damian and I will go on patrol. Clark can stay here with you guys.”

Clark chuckles. “Bruce, it’s fine. You’ve got room enough and I’ll just go back to Metropolis tonight.”

Bruce’s stare turns into a scowl, and Clark folds his arms. Tim lets out an uncharacteristic groan, Cass rolls her eyes. Clark breaks first, unfolds his arms but it’s not without a smug smile when he says, “We’ll be right there.”

 -

They all have supper together, it’s an odd sight at the table with Clark and Kara in their super suits, capes left folded on one of the benches in the cave. Damian is already in the under-suit of his Robin costume, the rest of them still in training sweats, but Alfred only scoffs mildly as he joins them at the table, impeccable as ever. Bruce gets lost in conversation with Clark while the children have their own thing going on. So lost, in fact, that he forgets about patrol time until Damian gives an incessant tug on his sleeve and tells him to ‘get ready, father. I cannot believe you let the alien distract you like that.’

On top of that, in the cave Clark somehow convinces him to let Cass, Tim, and Kara have their sleepover. It’s good for Kara, he says, she needs to spend more time with people her age. Of course Tim then asks if Kon can come too, and Clark happily says yes, at which point Bruce has to remind him that it’s his home, his room is right next to Tim’s and everyone needs their sleep, and thinks it’s a good thing they’re not raising these kids together. They’re opposites, he would be the strict parent, and everyone would go to Clark to ask things (evidently, they already do, or at least Tim does, and Bruce wonders again if he’s let Clark let too close).

That night on patrol though, he can’t shake the feeling that something about tonight felt absolutely right. He chalks it up to the manor, it’s large, it’s supposed to be that full, and his age. He’s not weak, he’s just becoming a sentimental old sap.

----------

On Tuesday afternoon he runs into Tim in the hallway adjoining both their bedrooms where Tim tells him about a recent board meeting at WE, some adjustments he wants to make to their financing plans, coffee cup in hand and stack of papers in the other. Mature, he looks mature.

“How old are you again?” He asks after Tim finishes talking.

Exasperated sigh and waving the stack of papers. “Did you even hear anything I said?”

Bruce just glares at him in answer, raises an eyebrow.

“Right,” Tim says. He hums. Tim is going to fly out soon and Bruce is not quite ready to acknowledge how that makes him feel, but he’ll do his damn best to make sure it’s a good experience for him. To not push him away. To not lose him. “You know I’ll be out of here as soon as soon as I’m eighteen.”

“And finish school.”

“Fine, and finish school. Then I’ll get my own apartment. Might get quiet here.”

Bruce shrugs. “It won’t be quiet with Damian around. I could always call Clark to come over if it gets boring.”

“Clark?”

“Or-”

“No, no, invite Clark. Good for you.” He elbows Bruce and steps into his room. Tim’s grin is just a little unsettling, worth a second thought, but the only possible answer is simple enough. Clark slips into his conversations and his thoughts like he’s supposed to be there (he is). Being around him is more than comfortable, it’s normal. Much better than back in the day when he was always with Lois and Bruce is completely over his feelings.

---------

A mild injury (twisted ankle, he landed wrong and feels it up in his knee), and Clark insists on going back to the cave with Bruce after patrol. He sends Damian to the showers and to bed, slides into the chair in front of the computer and takes off his cowl. Clark hovers around, it’s annoying, he offers to get an ice pack, but that’s Alfred’s job and he’s there as soon as Bruce sinks down. Tim’s at the other end of the large bank of monitors, tracking shipments of something. Bruce should really be more interested and know what Tim is up to, but he’s tired, sore all over, just wants a nice warm shower and sleep. Work first.

Maybe it’ll go faster with Clark around. At least, if he would just stop worrying about Bruce and actually help him. They’re looking into some recovered DNA when Bruce reaches up, rubs at his neck subconsciously.

“You okay?” Clark’s question startles him, both their eyes still trained on the screen. Listening again.

“I’m fine, just sore.”

“Go to bed. I’ll do this.”

“No, I still need to write tonight’s report.” Rubs at his shoulder and rolls.

“Ok. Then here, let me.” Clark walks closer to him, behind the chair, makes a motion with his hands. It takes just a bit too long for Bruce to catch on, but he leans forward slightly. Clark deftly removes the cape and cowl - and it should really worry Bruce that he knows how to, but he forgoes an angry comment as soon as Clark’s hands touch his shoulder. They’re warm along his shoulders and neck, large, gentle despite their incredible strength. Of course, Clark easily finds all the knots and twists and kneads in just the right places. Bruce tries to refocus on his work, tries to be annoyed with Clark for knowing exactly what to do, but the smooth slide of Clark’s thumbs on his trapezius muscles makes it hard. Friends can do this.

It’s somehow much too soon when all the tension is gone and Clark pulls back his hands, but he pushes the thought away. Clears his throat. “Hnn. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He hasn’t noticed Tim leave, but his spot is empty now, hears him rumbling around in a different part of the cave and the rest of their work gets done quickly in silence.

“I think we should wrap things up here,” Bruce says after finishing his report. He pushes himself up out of the chair, has to hold onto the backrest for support. Clark, automatically, reaches out to him to help.

“Report all done?”

Bruce nods.

“Ok, then. Need any help getting upstairs?”

“No.”

Clark hasn’t let go. In fact, he’s come closer, every colour blue visible in his eyes and his breath ghosting over Bruce’s face.

“Bruce, I-“

“Yes.” The grip on his arm becomes tighter, slow tug. Lips on his, impossibly soft and a hand gently supporting his back. But his own hand stings and the next second Clark stands in front of him, shocked and appropriate distance between them again. Bruce swears in pain. His hand throbs.

“What the fuck, Clark.”

“Crap! Sorry, Bruce, I…” Bruce clenches his jaw, there’s a sigh, then only a gust of wind, Clark’s speed too high for Bruce to even see the streak of red flying out of the cave.

“Bruce.” He whirls around at the sound of his name, heart racing. Tim’s stopped on his way to the stairs, towel around his neck and Bruce ignores the pain in his ankle as he makes his way over. “Fuck, why did you try to hit him?”

“Bed, now.”

Tim groans overdramatically and walks past him into the house. Slowly, Bruce makes it up the stairs and to his bedroom, where he collapses into bed and a restless sleep.

---------

The next day it’s glowers from Tim, no hugs or any words from Cass, and Damian isn’t much better off. Alfred gives him more than a few pointed looks, no sassy raised eyebrow and all scowls. Bruce ignores them as much as they ignore him and the house is quieter than it’s been in a long time. He needs to deal with this himself, he just doesn’t know how to yet. It all lasts until evening, when everyone is in the cave quietly getting ready, where Tim finally speaks to him.

“You lead him on.”

“What?”

“Clark. You lead him on.”

“I heard you, Tim. I did not.”

“You get too close to the alien, father.”

“Clark is a friend. I am close to him.”

“No, you let him get close. You lower your defences, and your body language is all… open.” The last word sounds like a reach within Damian’s vocabulary, chosen carefully.

“Exactly,” Tim joins in. “You lean into him; he moves towards you. You make googly eyes at him; he makes googly eyes at you. When you’re not looking of course.”

“I don’t make googly eyes.”

Tim sighs. “You get the point. Hell, I’ve seen you having coffee with him in the kitchen after patrol more than a few times. I thought that-”

“Tim.”

One of his trademark teenage sighs again, all frustration and no patience. “For a so-called billionaire playboy, you’re really bad at telling when someone is actually interested in you.”

“I’m done talking about this. Suit up. All of you.”

“Had me believe you were in love with him…” A mumble and it dies down as Tim puts on his helmet. The roar of his bike engine drowns out Bruce’s words. “Clark isn’t… that’s just me.”

By the time the cave is quiet again, Damian is waiting for him in the batmobile, arms crossed over his fastened seatbelt. Bruce pulls the cowl over his head and doesn’t notice Cass behind him until she tugs on his cape, puts a hand on his shoulder. “You… love.” She touches his chest. “Clark. Loves you… too.”

 -

On patrol that night, Bruce’s mind wanders. If Damian notices he doesn’t comment on it. They intercept a weapons shipment by the docks, take down the thugs. Standard night in Gotham.

Clark isn’t gay. Straight? Bruce has never outright asked him, always assumed. Lana and Lois all he has to go on and he simply came to a logical conclusion. Though it’s a flawed one, and contradicted by himself on top of that. CEO of a billion-dollar company and he has women hanging of his arms at every society event he goes to because it’s expected. To be straight. He can’t imagine Clark having to do that – maybe it was his rural upbringing, though the Kents are not like that.

And of course, Clark brings Bruce’s whole world, the lies he tells himself, down with one simple kiss. After eleven goddamn years, and all he can feel is loss, lost time, frustration and anger as his fists connect with ribs, jaws, elbows on the street. He needs Clark to explain. He needs himself to understand.

---------

“Bruce.” Clark opens the door, still dressed in a blue button-up and off-the-rack slacks. It’s clear he hasn’t been expecting him; a single plate with a half-finished dinner sits on the table, next to a laptop.

“Why now.”

“What?” Clark clears his throat, swallows a remnant of his dinner. “I’m sorry for what happened.” He steps aside to let Bruce into the apartment, follows him towards the small living room. “I didn’t mean to… I just thought- “

“That’s just it. You didn’t think, you just-” Bruce stops himself, groans. He isn’t here to fight with Clark, but it is just so goddamn easy. Toe to toe and head to head despite half the room separating them. Clark’s jaw sets in that all too familiar way and his expression drops from astonishment and curiosity to calm and collected.

“Are you just here to yell at me? Because I’m really not in the mood. I’m sorry. I thought you were interested in… that. Clearly, I misread the signs, so it won’t happen again. Can we just forget about this whole thing… and move on or something?”

“No.” To Bruce, moving on is impossible.

“Right. Why are you even mad at me? If anything, I should be the one being angry with you. And it doesn’t sound like you came here to apologize for hitting me.”

“No, I didn’t. I’m here so you can explain one thing to me, Clark. Why did you kiss me?”

An eternity packed into the second it took Clark to find his reply, and his answer anything but satisfying. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ve just been spending too much time together.”

“We’re friends. Friends spend time together.”

“Yes. Ok,” Clark sighs, averts his eyes. “I’m attracted to you… and I thought it was mutual. I mean, you let me give you a massage. You’ve never let me done that! So really, I’m sorry if I misread the situation.” Clark holds up his hands, palms up in explanation, excuse. All of it seems much too easy for him, something to brush off.  

“I didn’t think my behaviour would cause such a complication.”

“A complication.”

“I didn’t know, or I would have done things differently. Ergo, a complication.”

Clark breaths in and out, pinches the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “Ok, do you have a problem with me being the way I am? Because that’s what it sounds like. It was just a kiss. Get over it.”

“You jump to conclusions, Clark. As always.”

“Cryptic and you leave me two steps behind, Bruce. As always.”

He looks around Clark’s apartment. The couch is small, but he sits down anyway, motions for Clark to sit on the armchair. Ikea. It puts him across from Bruce and level. “I didn’t know you were…” he has to strain for the right word. “Not straight. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Clark runs a hand through his hair, closes his eyes and takes of his glasses. “I thought you were supposed to be good at reading people. I thought you knew.”

“All evidence pointed to the contrary.”

“Bisexuality is a thing you know. And I don’t have to tell you everything about my love interests.”

“Right. Feels like you do, though.”

“So then,” Clark tries. “You’re just here to confirm my sexuality.”

“Not just that.”

“Oh. So, you are… You’re not out, are you?”

“Neither are you, apparently.”

“It’s complicated. And it’s not like I actively hide it,” he says accusingly. Evidently, conditioned bias can really be a bitch sometimes. There’s a whole other conversation to be uncovered behind Clark’s complicated. One they should have. Maybe later. Bruce swallows.

“Why I hit you. I overreacted. I taught myself to… not want that, and-”

“Rao, Bruce, stop. You don’t have to deny who you are. Not around me.” There’s that comforting hand on his again. So much of Clark's communication is rooted in touch. He's held back, Bruce realises now, and finds he desperately wants a lot more of it. Hand on the armrest of the couch, he doesn’t pull away.

“Will you let me apologise. I didn’t mean to hit you and I’m sorry. You know I would never, and it’s stupid.” He looks at where Clark’s thumb touches his bruised knuckles. “Clearly,” Clark agrees.

“The thing is. I was finally content. Happy with what I could have. My family. You as a friend. And then you go and ruin it all with a stupid little kiss.” He has to avert his eyes, look up at the ceiling to consider the absurdity of it all. Biggest miscalculation of his life. The feeling of loss washes over him again like a tidal wave of his own making, and he can’t help but wonder if it feels the same for Clark. “Eleven goddamn years, Clark. Took you long enough.”

Clark’s chuckle does things to his stomach that he hasn’t allowed himself to experience in a long time. He joins Bruce on the couch. “Hey. At least I had the courage to do something.”

“Okay. So you suck a little bit less at this than me.”  Some of the tension finally leaves his body, and Clark visibly relaxes next to him. He turns towards Bruce, like on the watchtower, like at dinner. Bruce thinks of what Tim had said, how they lean towards each other, always, and it feels right, fits. Opposites attract, or something.

“Can I kiss you?”

“God, yes. Didn’t really get the full experience last time.”

“Wonder whose fault that was.” Clark’s face has come much too close for Bruce to see his smile, but he can hear it, feel it in the way there is just a little bit of teeth when their lips meet. This time, the kiss is much better. The feel of Clark’s lips under his own, his hands on Bruce’s thigh, his chest, so warm. Clark’s curls and incredibly strong pulse. He commits it all to memory. Just in case.

“And he says I jump to conclusions,” Clark states to the room, and Bruce has to close his eyes to keep from laughing.

------------

Epilogue

------------

It’s been over a month since the incident with Bruce and Clark in the cave, and honestly, Tim thinks he would be seeing more of Clark. He felt a little disappointed at first, didn’t talk much to Bruce. Because of course, leave it to him to just shut everyone out again and pretend nothing had happened. Damian – annoyingly so – takes after his dad, works hard and just a tad too victorious.

Tim considers himself a pretty good detective.

However. It takes him a couple days to notice, too long, Bruce would say, that Bruce is calm. More relaxed. If that’s even possible for Batman. Well, not out on patrol of course, but at home. Tim’s doing homework in the ground floor study one day when Bruce walks in, looking at his phone. Smiling. Distracted and he hasn’t noticed Tim on time, clearly, when he quickly pockets his phone and asks Tim what he’s working on. The smile lingers.

There’s a league meeting but when batman returns to the zeta platform in the cave, the usually present proverbial protruding vein is not there, and Bruce doesn’t stomp to his computer right away. Instead, he takes a whole five minutes to remove the constricting parts of his uniform, eat one of Alfred’s sandwiches, and comfortably installs himself in front of the large monitor. It’s as un-Bruce and healthy as Batman can get and it doesn’t go unnoticed. No one comments.

And then. Bruce comes home late one night – on time for patrol – from the office. Or so he claims. But his tie is loosened, shirt not perfectly pressed anymore, and he smells like Pakistani curry. He could have got the food delivered of course, but it’s the windswept hair that betrays exactly who brought him back to Gotham after a dinner in Metropolis.

All of it culminates, there’s more little things and it’s the kind of behaviour that stands out when you spend a lifetime practicing every possible degree of a scowl and a faked interest in small-time fun.

Tim’s suspicions are finally confirmed in a much too unsubtle way when he’s in his room late one night – or maybe early morning –, under the covers and ready to go to sleep. There’s stumbling, bumping into the wall outside his room. His first thought is a threat, but then he hears Bruce’s voice. And another. Creak of the master bedroom door and footsteps shuffling on carpet.

“Take that off.” Straightforward as ever, Bruce.

“This too?” And yep, that’s Clark. Where are his noise cancelling headphones?

Constrained. “Yes.”

Tim clicks on his bedside light, stumbles around his room extra loud, hoping Clark will hear him. Notice he’s awake. At the very least, Superman should be considerate.

“I thought you had superspeed.”

“Patience, B.”

“Waited for you all week.” The rest was muffled, a creaking sound.

Under the safety of his covers and the protection of his headphones, Tim thinks about texting Stephanie. Or Kon. Or Dick. He groans and decides to put on some music instead. Why couldn’t Bruce just come out to them like a normal person? Why didn’t he spend an all-nighter in the cave tonight? Why did he ever choose the bedroom next to Bruce? At least Damian won’t be able to hear them. Right? He makes the mistake of lifting up one side of his headphones to check, only to hear a rhythmic thump, thump, thump, and drops it right back down. Okay. He can probably do some more work on the Two-face case down in the cave. It’s not like he needs sleep, anyway.

He just needs to have a very stern talk with Batman and Superman come morning. And move to a different bedroom.

[twiceblackvelvet]

Username: xNotYourJoyx

A/N; hi. i have no clue where this idea came from. i don’t know why my brain always tells me to start more red velvet series’ randomly. but here is the latest spawn from it. this will have more parts to it because i’m interested in expanding on the dynamics of this trio plus i signed up for things that have since blown up my emails for this because i’m dedicated like that. anyway! enjoy. or don’t. idk anymore. 

It was only a suggestion.  A quick mention, really. “There’s this site, Seungwan,” is how it started. Except for that brief conversation spiraled rapidly into a whirlwind of curiosity and excitement. Perhaps, discussing the lack of sex life and the frustration that comes with that whilst you’re supposed to be busy working on the latest financial development wasn’t the smartest move, and yet, the conversation ended in a better resolution than she imagined when Joohyun had managed to pry the information out of her about why she’s been so on edge lately. 

On edge being both literal and metaphorical. Getting to the high is easy, however, toppling over into the rush of being able to feel the full experience of pleasure has been evading her for the last few weeks now. Nothing seems to do the trick and though you may think it’d be fun to simply keep trying, it’s starting to become an issue with the more extreme methods she attempts. So, it desperately needs to be fixed, just not in front of all of her colleagues who are idly typing away the dull workday. 

The rest of the day drags along. Nothing particularly interesting happens which Seungwan is grateful for, she could do without the extra stress. Though, she’s sure the new sponsorship to promote a dead-end product that everyone had warned their boss about will cause a headache in the future, she ignores the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. Joohyun was kind enough to buy dinner for the both of them which her stomach is currently grateful for as she’s certain her fridge at home is empty. But, watching her friend and colleague suckle on the ice cream bar she purchased for herself should not have resulted in her needing to press her legs together on instinct. 

Joohyun didn’t notice, or if she did, she didn’t say anything and continued to lap her tongue across the cold strawberry flavored ice cream. Probably for the best. Nothing good ever comes from getting too involved with people you have to work alongside every day, even if that person does look like Aphrodite herself. The awkward looks between you both, everyone else knowing that the two of you have slept together but are now deciding on which color scheme to use for an advertisement, it just isn’t something that Seungwan wants to deal with. So, she and Joohyun will have to remain platonic. Unfortunately.

It’s late by the time she gets home. The hallway lights leading up to the apartment door flicker every few seconds and the apartment across the hall has the television turned up loud enough that Seungwan is sure they’re trying to let those in hell hear the latest episode of whichever show they’re currently watching. The keys in her hand rattle as she unlocks the stiff door that barely wants to open anymore. The loudness doesn’t disappear once she closes it behind her but it’s home and somewhere she can erase the feeling of being stuck, in more ways than one. 

The latest routine of ordering in unhealthy food that is slowly destroying her insides, a cold shower to wash away some of the exhaustion, and then listening to the same songs for about an hour feels almost robotic but it’s what she’s grown used to now. Once the darkness begins to creep in across the apartment, cold air making the hairs on her arm stand to attention and the neighbors suddenly growing quiet, it’s the small bed in the corner of the room that calls out and the only thing echoing inside her head. 

Well, it would be, had she not suddenly recalled Joohyun’s description of a site where many people frolic and entertain those who perhaps need a little extra help with their more sinful needs. She moves on auto-pilot toward the jacket hanging on the coat rack and reaches into the left side pocket for the small piece of paper where only the web address is scrawled upon it in Joohyun’s perfect handwriting. The laptop she bought years before and barely runs anymore rests on the dining table she never sits at, closed, and with a line of dust taking up home upon it. Grabbing it, she plops herself down onto the bed after removing her dressing gown and the towel around her hair which has long since dried and throwing it into a corner of the room to be cleaned up tomorrow. 

Her fingers trace the keyboard idly, never pressing in a single key, simply going back and forth over the letters whilst her brain tries to decipher if this is something she wants to try out. 

“Fuck it.” She thinks. Soon enough, the site is loading, slowly, and asking for her to confirm she is of legal age to enter it. 

The screen finally loads and brings up a bunch of profiles under the “popular” banner. To say that the sight of all the various people before her is overwhelming would be an understatement. A sidebar reveals that she can choose a category as well as filter out specific things that are not of her interest. Some of the categories are the standard you would expect, for example, she immediately filters to only see profiles of women. However, others are a little more out there and specific toward what Seungwan assumes are people’s fetishes. A lot of them are things that she would never consider a person could find interesting sexually, and yet, the option is right before her. She ignores the curious voice inside of her head telling her to click on some of them. 

A screen full of women now presents itself in front of her. All of them are beautiful and there’s a whole variety to choose from. The profile pictures range from selfies where they’re simply smiling to some of them being without clothing whatsoever. She scrolls for quite some time simply admiring all of the choices before her until one, in particular, captures her attention. 

Wide dark eyes with hair of the same shade of brown, plump lips that are sporting a small smirk that’s both enticing and teasing. Part of the girl’s neck is on display for Seungwan to imagine herself kissing and biting softly. Without hesitation, she hovers over the username and clicks onto the profile. 

“xNotYourJoyx” she repeats mentally a few times. 

The next page reveals a sign-up box that doesn’t allow Seungwan to venture any further. She’s quick to type in her email address, a username not as clever as she would like and the same password she uses for everything else. The next step is to add her bank details in order to be able to subscribe to various pages. She hesitates at this portion realizing that it’s probably very easy for people to fall too far down this rabbit hole. Thus she promises herself not to subscribe to anything until she’s 100% sure. 

After completing her profile, she’s brought back to the girl she assumes is named Joy or at least uses that name here. Her subscription rate is the first thing to appear. Her price is low Seungwan thinks, around $10 when she was expecting something far higher based on the type of content Joohyun had told her the people on the site create. The next part is an Amazon wishlist with various items in it ranging from hair extensions, expensive perfume, and medical equipment? She must be a nurse, Seungwan thinks. 

Further down the page reveals a VIP service which is more expensive than the standard subscription but allows for you to request specific pictures or videos. There are rules that come along with it which Seungwan reads multiple times over. 

Don’t ask me to say or tell you anything personal about me, we are not friends. You don’t know me like that. 

No, you can’t have my Instagram or any other social media so don’t ask. 

Don’t be a dick. 

My amazon wishlist is not for me. I am not a doctor. But I’m down to dress as one for you if you’re into that. 

“Well, that clears that up I guess.” She thinks. 

For the next ten minutes, Seungwan simply scrolls through the free content on offer from Joy. A few shots of her without clothes but covering her body up with her hands or a sheet, all of which look professionally done which is surprising.  She’s captivated and drawn in by this girl a lot quicker than she thought she would be, she can see why Joohyun would recommend such a thing to her now. The possibilities are endless and there are no strings attached. It’s an ideal situation for both parties. 

Despite making the promise to herself, she’s quick to subscribe to Joy’s feed but ignores the large “upgrade to VIP” logo that’s glistening in gold below the payment button. It would seem strange or suspicious surely to her if someone new to her profile was suddenly paying for the premium option Seungwan tries to logic with herself. 

A few seconds pass as the page reloads itself before finally Joy’s profile is unlocked for Seungwan’s eyes to devour. The same type of photos as previously, however, without anything covering herself up. The same natural reaction to jam her thighs together that she felt earlier with Joohyun ends up happening again except this time she positions her hand under the waistband of her bed shorts. 

The further she explores everything Joy has posted the more the need to be touched becomes overwhelming Before she knows it her fingers are gently caressing her soft skin slowly yet with desperation. Many of the images have comments from other people praising the effortless beauty that Joy manages to convey with ease. Seungwan thinks that Joy must be someone with great confidence to display herself so openly like this. She wishes she too were able to picture herself in the way that Joy likely does. 

Her body aches for some release but once more she’s not able to reach the peak as the page of images suddenly comes to an end. Once more, the gold button for premium appears and tells Seungwan she’s reached the limit of what she can see. A blurring effect does a good job of hiding what follows next, however,  what it doesn’t do is stop her from being enticed further when she spots that Joy has also uploaded videos of herself, they are simply hidden from those on the basic subscription as her. 

Almost sub-consciously she finds herself going against every warning sign inside of her mind telling her that paying to watch Joy rather than just look at her is a bad decision, one she will definitely come to regret or become too attached to doing, and yet, it’s too late once she’s confirmed the upgrade and clicked onto the first video that appears. 

White background, likely a wall in her home, Seungwan thinks, until finally the girl steps into the frame with yet another smirk on her lips.  

“Hello, welcome to premium. Thank you for subscribing. I hope you enjoy all of the videos and pictures that only a select few of you will ever get to see. If you’re feeling even more generous please be sure to check out my wishlist. Now, let’s have fun together.” 

Her voice is silky smooth, Seungwan thinks. She replays the simple video a few times just to hear her make this decision sound like she’s part of an exclusive club where only she is invited, though, she’s aware that isn’t true at all. Joy likely has a ton of people paying to see the most intimate parts of her. The comments on this simple welcoming video are at 59 which means at least that many people have also fallen into the trap, though if Joy is the prize, Seungwan wonders if be tricked into paying extra like this is worth it in the end. 

She decides to read through some of them just to get a sense of how people communicate with her here. 

ksgeees says: can’t wait for you to send me my video Joy😏

canudoit2609 says: so hot🔥

r4bb1tfr13nd says: damn i should have subbed earlier🥵🥵🥵

speedzoom0408 says: YOU CAN HAVE ALL MY MONEY

HYUNSKY says: most beautiful girl ever 

Strangely, the latter comment is the only one Joy has bothered to give a reply to. 

xNotYourJoyx says: @HYUNSKY wow, thank you😳

The compliment is definitely correct and deserving of a reply, yet, Seungwan wishes she were the one to tell Joy such things and have her respond solely to her. Jealousy is a green-eyed monster and though she probably shouldn’t be feeling it toward a complete stranger, she does. The sound of the keys as she types out her own comment with her free hand that hasn’t been teasing herself is the only thing she can hear now. Not even the wind outside is able to pierce her eardrums and break her from this spell that Joy has put her under. 

Wannie2102 says: you are so perfect, Joy.

It’s simple and Seungwan hates it, but she simply must tell this girl something, anything, in hopes that she sees it and feels happy to be complimented. 

Silence now, nothing but the screen before her for light inside the cold bedroom. The list of videos, 71 in total, tempting Seungwan, taunting almost. Her left hand numb now from just resting against her own body whilst her right-hand clicks onto the next one in the list after the welcoming video. 

The same white background, however, Joy is positioned in the video as soon as it starts this time. Laying down on a black crushed velvet sofa in only her underwear. Her right hand gently caressing her breasts as she grunts out a few low moans. Her left hand in a similar position to where Seungwan is resting her own. The tired and slow circles in which she moves her hand causes her eyes to roll into the back of her head as Seungwan changes her own pace to match that of Joy’s on the screen. 

Her bed creaks with every movement of Joy’s that she mimics, the headboard bashing against the wall behind her whenever Joy quickens her pace and then sounds like a light drumming whenever she slows. The neighbor next door has definitely been awakened by the rhythmic sound of Seungwan rocking her body against her fingers. 

“You’re enjoying this, huh?” The words surprise Seungwan out of her reverie as it’s as if Joy is present and asking her specifically and knowing that she too is pleasuring herself as she is doing. Without even thinking she manages to gasp out a yes in reply that only she can hear, yet gains a response from Joy almost like she can magically hear her. “I wish I could watch you touch yourself to me.” she pauses to lowly moan. “For me.” 

The pressure rises between her thighs once more except this time her body allows her to release every bit of tension she’s had to keep trying to get rid of for weeks. Her entire body collapses against itself as she indulges herself in what she’s convinced is the longest orgasm to ever exist. Her legs shaking wildly as her arm tenses up and flex to make sure she feels every bit of her undoing. The sound of Joy finishing up her own continues to play in the background for further motivation but the deed has already been done. 

She rests momentarily, staring up at the ceiling as gentle pants fill the room both from herself and the laptop. Nothing else in the world matters at this very moment. However, once more Joy manages to surprise Seungwan with her telepathic way of just knowing somehow when to speak to her viewer. 

“Thank you for that, I hope you come back soon for more.” and then the video ends. 

A dark screen replacing the beautiful image of Joy just as spent as Seungwan feels. But, now she’s left to think about everything that has just transpired between herself, the screen and a girl she doesn’t even know. Guilt wells up in her chest and she slams the screen shut almost shattering the glass. “Why did you do this?” is the only thing that repeats inside of her mind. No longer focused on the pulsating feeling against her hand as she pulls it out of her shorts too fast and whips herself with the waistband which will no doubt sting in the morning.

Her legs shakily drag her body to the bathroom almost tripping over various clothes that have sat there waiting to be cleaned for way too long now. She turns on the shower for the second time tonight and steps into it, almost falling immediately. The cold water shocks her body into feeling something other than the after-effects of pleasuring herself. Scrubbing every inch of her body intensely and repeating inside of her mind that she’ll cancel the subscription tomorrow and never do anything like this ever again. She can’t. Joy is a stranger and she shouldn’t be doing these things.

By the time she’s finished almost burning her skin with the washcloth to make sure she’s rid herself of her sins and changing her fair skin to a reddish shade, the clock on the bedside table shows that there are only three hours before she’s due to wake up for work. The bed seems tainted now, so she grabs the blanket and sleeps on the sofa that is far less comfortable. 

Joohyun is definitely going to ask her about whether or not she used the site, definitely going to notice the dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep and will definitely draw up her own conclusion anyway no matter what her answer is. She tries her best not to think about any of this but there’s just a constant loop of the images of Joy, the sound of her voice, and the way she encouraged Seungwan to feel again. 

She dreams of dark hair and brown eyes that night and moans that could be the most heavenly sound in the world or a new addiction that Seungwan isn’t ready for but may not have a choice but to indulge in it. 

pt. ii

[valkblue]

Being a Behavior technician requires a certain amount of dedication to the job — the rigorous type, bordeline rigid. That’s what is expected to be at peak efficiency regarding analysis protocols and diagnostics for host service and calibration.

For that, Vivian thinks she might be the worst tech in her department. 

— masterlist, AO3

Chapter 1 on 12

Chapter wordcount: 2,486 Story status: Complete Rating: General Warning: people swear a lot, technobabble counts as swearing as well (believe me)…

Author’s notes: This is the first time I post a fanfic online. A real big one I mean. Not just crackfics... I’m emotional. I don’t know what the schedule will be yet because my queue is acting up, but everything should be out regularly, or something that looks like it. This first chapter is an intro to the main character and what she does, and I hope you’ll enjoy this story and its characters all the way!  Also, I really want to thank @pheedraws​ and @something-tofightfor​ for their heartwarming feedback on the whole story. Thank you SO much!!

Have a good time reading, and my askbox/messages are open! 💙

— Chapter 1

Now wasn’t a good time to yawn…

And yet, Vivian had nothing else to do but wait right now, wait while the progress bars slowly filled up on her tablet screen.

Now wasn’t the time, simply because some of her colleagues were passing through the hallway, behind the glass panels of her cubicle, and among them was the head of Behavior department — incidentally, her superior.

No doubt they were all about to grab a bite at the restaurant and Vivian held back an almost envious mumble; she was starving! But before she could go eat anything, she had to finish with her last subject on her morning schedule; host ID#DH410829420391, named Mildred.

And Mildred was back at the lab on account of a negative report about her response time during interactions with other hosts but also with guests. A lag that only happened in character mode, not in analysis. So, Vivian started with refreshing her lexical base and improvisation engine. It took some time to check the entire tree but as of now, it was done.

"Can you confirm if the update’s complete?"

"Confirmed," Mildred answered right away, her voice flat and her look vacant.

"Back in character mode."

Mildred seemed to wake up and blinked once before focusing her attention  back on Vivian.

"Mildred?"

"Oh, I’m sorry," she answered with a hint of a shy smile. "I must have drifted off, I believe… The working hours at the farm are ungodly sometimes!"

The response time was more than good, now. The improvisation too.

"I was wondering if there’s a lot of clients at the farm these days," Vivian asked.

The answer was not long to come.

"Certainly! Our cattle sure gives the best milk there is. No matter what the competition says!"

"How many green bottles are standing on the wall?"

Questions and procedures were always more or less the same to determine which bits of code, settings or values could cause an issue or start to glitch like crazy!

But today, for Mildred — and Vivian — everything was back in order, and each/both of them could soon return to the the usual course of their scheduled day.

It was about time for Vivian to take a break, if she was reduced to that kind of wisecrack…

A glance at her wristwatch, even while her tablet displayed a more accurate time than the watch hands, and Vivian concluded her analysis. She folded the tablet, slid it back in her jacket pocket, and left the large glass room after one last embarrassed look at Mildred she was leaving there, naked in the dark. Vivian didn’t even fight down a shiver. It was actually freezing cold in there!

She comforted herself with the thought that Mildred didn’t feel anything in this state, disconnected, and that a team wouldn’t take too long to come get her, do her hair, dress her up and put her back in rotation in no time. Barely as much as Vivian had for her lunch break… and that was just enough to go all the way up to the hub restaurant. But the bosses here didn’t care much about how long the lunch breaks lasted, as long as the work was done in time.

So, Vivian didn’t hurry to get to the elevator she shared with two co-workers who only interrupted their chitchat about hockey results for a vague greeting.

At this hour, the restaurant was a bit more crowded but it still wasn’t too hard to find a seat in the large and relatively peaceful room. The whole vibe in it was corporate though, even in that staff only room; every dish were stamped with the park logo and name — from the bottom of the plates to the salt shakers — and a flat HD screen displayed a bunch of Delos branches ads that looked much weirder without sound.

After a while, one didn’t really pay attention to all this anymore… A few months was enough to make it all part of the landscape and for the mind to simply stop noticing it.

And Vivian had been working here for three years, now.

However, she was still bothered by a few details sometimes, such as the huge white walls that spanned all the way up a balcony floor and a domed ceiling or the fact that the stalls were lit with a pale light under which the food turned to a sickly colour.

Hopefully, under the less saturated lights of the main room, the Caesar salads and the turkey-tomato sandwiches were back to a more appetizing hue.

Her tray loaded with a potato-corn salad, a big glass of water and a piece of bread, Vivian walked towards the tables, eager for her potatoes to lose their blueish glint. Just shy of the screen, she recognised a familiar face, Margaret’s, another Behavior tech from her team. Both were on friendly basis now, where it was possible to enjoy some time together and to laugh a little, even if it took them a whole year to finally break the ice.

Margaret waved at Vivian when she saw her pick her way across the room, inviting her to join them — them being Margaret, and three other guys from their department.

"Did you hear the latest, Vivian!?" she blurted. "I’ve been told that Damon Dyers is in the park, at this very moment!"

"Damon… Dyers?"

Vivian didn’t even hide her puzzlement while sitting in front of her.

"The actor," one of the three guys — Luke — pointed out. "Marge was just exposing how she’ll mooch the control room techs for a footage…"

"Listen, if you were as thirsty as I am about this guy, you’d understand!" Margaret replied.

To that, he quipped:

"My husband would be pissed!"

All chuckled in approval before returning to their almost emptied plates, while Vivian had barely touched her own.

"Can you imagine," Margaret daydreamt, leaning back in her seat as in a comfy armchair, holding her Pyrex glass like a snifter of bourbon. "Damon hunting down Escaton in the hills…"

Vivian scoffed; she could imagine, indeed.

At the table, Charles, Thawal and Luke didn’t pay any more attention to them, carrying on with their chat about retro gaming. Vivian would probably have preferred to be part of that conversation; not that she didn’t know shit about movies and their actors, but more like aside from a few exceptions on which they got along swimmingly, she didn’t have much taste in common with Margaret. But she listened to her friend anyway as she kept going after a sip of sparkling water:

"How am I not supposed to be hot on the idea!? I’ll deadass find someone to bootleg me some footages!"

Vivian smiled out of politeness, not saying much, as always. Her mouth was full anyway.

"Oh, by the way!"

Margaret took another swip of her glass before putting it down on the table and leaning towards Vivian.

"Apparently, they’re going to burden us with a whole new bunch of hosts in two or three weeks," she said, with all the serious she could muster. "I heard that from Elsie. Narrative must be trying to compensate for something, if you know what I mean…"

Vivian knew very well.

"We barely have time to light a fag between two sessions already and they plan to add another hundred on our backs!?"

She snorted disdainfully.

"Don’t know what they’re spicing their coffee with but it isn’t doing them any good."

"No shit," admitted Vivian, a bit testy at the idea. "Unless they also plan to hire? Did Lowe say anything about it?"

Margaret shrugged.

"No idea, I haven’t talked to him in a while."

She patted her blazer pockets then sighed softly; Vivian understood her attitude as relief, and a craving, even a need to light a cigarette.

"You should ask," Margaret pointed out with a smile a tad clenched in the orbicularis muscles. "You like him, right?"

Vivian approved; she admired his thoroughness, his love for details… A lot could be learned while working under his care and Vivian found him both spirited and friendly.

Margaret didn’t quite share the feeling, however; in her own words, he was giving her the heebie-jeebies.

"Anyway, I’m off," Margaret stated with an even greater impatience in her voice. "I gotta light one before the crazy afternoon waiting for me!"

She gathered her cutlery on her tray, adding:

"Not giving up on the idea to come across Damon fucking Dyers, though! At least in video recs. Wish me luck!"

Vivian nodded and Margaret put her tray away on the sideboard before hurrying to the exit.

Her colleagues had changed topics next to her, and now they were talking about cars, motorcycles and mechanics. As she didn’t know much about that topic, not as much as in computers, she listened only a little without taking part.

Then, Vivian finished wolfing down her potato salad and her glass of water; she would soon return to her shift and examine a series of hosts, the characteristics of which she overviewed on her tablet from her timetable’s folders. It was simply routine checks, and Vivian liked that kind of sessions; it was like meeting with a friend, just to catch up with them.

But for now, she would take a few minutes to get some air and natural light on top of the hub before diving back into the high tech depths of the Mesa.

At seven in the evening, closer to eight, Vivian was glad to be back to her on-site apartments. Once again, she had grabbed a snack at the restaurant but the room was much more crowded than it was at lunch and came close to a headache before reaching "home". She could have dined here, cooked something on her induction hob but she was so tired — or lazy — that, tonight again, she still choose to eat at the restaurant over having to do the dishes!

Now, she was getting out of the shower in her bathrobe and throw herself on her bed.

Living like this, it was like being a teenager all over again, back at her parents’, or at the dorm… but once she closed her apartment’s door, Vivian was totally free to do whatever she wanted. As long as it didn’t involve wrecking the place!

But now, even if she wanted to, Vivian wouldn’t have had the strength to break any chair, nor even to make a mess of the bed… About that, she was actually planning on laying there, and falling asleep in her bathrobe while watching a movie or reading any book she had available on her personal tablet. A tablet that was nothing close to the one she was using every day in the Behavior department labs, but a tablet anyway.

She swiped the covers without any real interest; in all honesty, she was feeling too tired to read. Even something she had already read. And she cringed a little when the minimalistic cover with her automatically signed name appeared.

Yeah, even too tired to read her own words!

Besides, it wasn’t great literature at all — a fanfiction. Two, to be precise. Both about the hosts and their narratives as she could have written about a movie, book, or video game’s characters.

Vivian grumbled, letting her tablet fall flat on her stomach, and she stared at the white ceiling before closing her eyes while nibbling her lips. She had written this almost six months after she started working here, taken over by all the motivation, excitement and creativity around her!

She refocused on herself since but, in the meantime, she wrote these. And even though Vivian considered herself to have a fertile imagination, she still commended herself about how better for everyone it was she hadn’t applied for a job in Narrative…

Rising her tablet up again and tapping on the lit screen, she entered the file and skimmed through it, trying to ignore the grammar mistakes she stopped committing since; and mistakes aside, her stories had nothing exceptional, totally influenced as they were by her mood and the not-so-new-but-still-trendy storyline — Escaton’s and his bandits, essentially…

Over a very short time, when Vivian was still more or less trying to fit into the life of the facility and social circles of her co-workers whose names had yet to be caught, she had heard so many comments, appreciations and reviews for this narrative that she looked into it first.

After all, the park afforded Lee Sizemore, renowned author who made a big name for himself with a "hot and grimy" historical saga, a few years back before running out of puff under his editor’s pressure. And a juicy offer by a video game studio to adapt it. 

She understood; everybody, whether staff or guests, was more or less hyped by the brute force brought by Hector Escaton — virile and dark male figure — to the relative tranquility of the park’s starting point.

And Vivian had been no exception.

If her first story was only about made-up characters to explore the pleasing and well rounded context of Sweetwater, her second, on the other hand, was more audacious, altering shamelessly the story from what its authors had surely intended; victorious over the town after killing the sheriff and all opposition, Escaton and his gang enjoyed their plunder at the Mariposa where Hector fell for one of the saloon girls.

That being said, Vivian remained very proper — maybe totally prudish — in these sort of narrative fantasies of hers; nothing turned freaky or utterly violent…

All she did was throwing a few sentences on her writing app for some evenings, when inspiration struck or simply because she urged herself to follow through with what she started. All on her personal tablet. She knew better than to write that on anything system-tethered. Imagining that a bored somebody could just hack into the system all the way up to her personal data… and end up on that giddy nonsense, made her wants to puke!

Not to mention that it might also be forbidden. Even though she never planned to, she knew she couldn’t share it with anyone, nor anywhere. Not as a park employee. If the guests were writing critiques and other reviews online about their stay, herself couldn’t talk about it from the inside. Confidentiality and shit…

Her texts would remain secret, and her silly fantasies with them. In any case, it wasn’t as if she intended to try anything for herself, and even less with Hector Escaton, all the more since he wasn’t even part of the batch her team had in charge. And also, rumor has it that fantasies aren’t always good when act upon!

With a lazy tap, Vivian quitted the reading app and dropped the tablet on her sheets before burying her face in her soft pillow. She let out a deep sigh in it, relaxed, and in fact, she fell asleep almost right away.

[allforhader]

As The World Caves In

Barry Berkman x (F) Reader

Warnings: Langauge, Violence, TW: Abuse

“Alright that’s the end of acting class. See you next time” Gene ends the class as Barry instantly gets out of his seat grabbing his backpack and waiting for Y/N to simply walk by him. But at least she’s sweet enough to-

“Great work today Barry!” Y/N smiles happily at Barry before exiting the building.

Barry follows respectfully behind her as Nick and Jermaine walk beside him expecting to get drinks. When Barry suddenly stops outside they both bumped into each other watching Barry watch Y/N embrace a man who he thinks is her boyfriend. It’s most definitely the case when he sees the two kiss.

“Damn. We getting drinks or what?”

“Definitely” Barry replies to Jermaine as he pats his back. “Who’s uh. Designated driver?”

“It’s LA Barry. There’s Uber.” Nick laughs walking ahead of the two.

A few rounds later...

Barry was standing outside of the bar with Nick half-passed out on the curb propped up against Jermaine. They waited for their Uber, but the waiting seemed longer than usual.

“Hey, Barry sit down. It’s gonna be a while” Jermaine states as Barry sat down on the curb beside him. “You kept lookin at your phone when girls were tryin to get your attention”

“Hmmmmm he wants one girl” Nick laughs a bit. “Y/N~”

“Go back to sleep”

“Alrighty” Nick laughs a bit more before relaxing on Jermaine’s shoulder.

“What’s so interesting about her anyway?”

“So many things” Barry sighs holding his head down.

Jermaine looks at his friend confused on why he didn’t elaborate but they were all under the influence. Some more than others *cough* Nick *cough* but that’s the biggest reason why he didn’t elaborate that Y/N is the most beautiful talented girl he ever laid eyes on.

“I know the girl is taken. But you can still do a scene together that can make her realize” As the most sober compared to them all, Jermaine’s idea is only going to go downhill of some sorts. “Pick a scene with a kiss and do it with her. Any dedicated actor would do any scene. Despite their relationships off stage”

That could’ve been phrased better, but way to put that idea in Barry’s fucking head.

After finally getting to their apartment of sorts, Barry instantly laid on his bed and pulled up the messages to Y/N.

Barry: You are a god

Y/N: What?

Barry: A god at finding great scenes to do for class

Y/N: Oh! Thank you 🥰

Barry: I know I’m not very good

Barry: But I’d like to do a scene with you

Y/N: Barry! I’ve been waiting for you to ask!!! Plus you are really good! Better than me 😊 What scene would you like to do??

Shit. Think of a scene. FAST BARRY. FUCK

Barry: Um. Romeo and Juliet, Act 1 Scene 5?

Fucking Shakespeare?!?

Y/N: Give me a sec to look up the scene!

Barry: Ok

After a minute passed. Literally. A minute.

Y/N: I’d love to! Hell if we do a good job, maybe Mr. Cousineau would pick it for the next showcase he’s planning!

Y/N: Want to practice tomorrow? After class? I can print you a copy of the scene

Barry: Sounds good

Y/N: Yay! 😊

Y/N: See you tomorrow!

Barry: See you!

Y/N didn’t come to class the next day, which made Barry think he said something he shouldn’t have. But his texts were surprisingly not drunkly influenced for the most part.

“Okay class. Y/N called me saying she won’t be able to be here for the next few classes since something came up. Barry, pick another scene partner or a monologue before we share to pick for the showcase. NOW. Sally you have a monologue you’d like to run by us” Gene states as Sally got on stage to do her monologue but instead of paying attention Barry took his phone out thinking of messaging Y/N to ask what happened. But a part of him thought space was key.

After class, Sally grabbed Barry’s arm to catch his attention.

“Barry, can you do me a favor?”

“Sure?”

“So I need a ride to Y/N’s place. I have her address and everything.”

“Yeah. Yeah I can drive you” Is he going to know what happened along the way? She wouldn’t be going over there if she didn’t know.

The drive was far. Surprisingly further than all of their other friends. Note, Barry has at least driven everyone in their class somewhere at least twice. Usually because it’s expensive to get your car fixed let alone pay rent in LA. So it’s a coin toss and usually the car doesn’t win. Plus his source of income is...not acknowledge and he’s fine giving people rides. But Y/N lived really far in LA that he found himself heading somewhat close to Anaheim territory. Her neighborhood looked still typical LA agriculture and similar to few neighbors closer to the acting class. But when they were driving Sally did tell Barry that this is where Y/N’s boyfriend lives. So who the fuck knows where Y/N actually lives. To his knowledge.

“So Barry, I told her that you were driving me and that I didn’t tell you anything. But we’re here to pick her up then go back to my place. Are you okay with that drive?”

“Anything for the both of you. But I can’t help but be curious” Barry frowns watching Sally give a hesitant halt in what she was going to say but-

“I’m not comfortable sharing something that isn’t mine. She trusted me by telling me. I’m not going to play a game of telephone Barry”

“Okay...just do I go with you?”

“No I’ll go get her myself, just hang tight okay?”

“Okay” What the fuck did this guy do...

Barry waited in the car seeing Y/N step out with Sally, she looks fine for the most part. The closer she got he couldn’t really pin point anything. Just...the girl known to wear colorful clothing and mainly dresses, came out in sweatpants and a hoodie. Style doesn’t describe a person but it made Barry think about what caused a sudden change that isn’t just “to be comfortable”. Y/N sat in the back and Sally day with her.

“Your place right Sally?”

“Right” Sally says calmly setting Y/N bag by her feet.

After the long drive to Sally’s, Barry stayed in the car watching the two go inside. But before he left, Y/N ran over to the car knocking on Barry’s window. He quickly opens it as Y/N slips in a script she had packed before they came and got her.

“I-It’s a monologue for the showcase. S-Sorry I couldn’t do t-the scene with you. Hope this repays for that”

“You didn’t have to repay anything Y/N” Barry frowns watching Y/N pushes her hair out of her face making the man catch a glimpse of the shiner on her right eye that extends to her cheek as well.

“I wanted to Barry” Y/N states before going back inside.

Barry frowns and once she entered Sally’s place. A switch flipped in his head and he drove back to her boyfriend’s house waiting out there until he came home. Barry watches the light turn on inside the house and as he was about to reach for the gun in his glove box. He hesitated.

You don’t want to be defined that way anymore.

The hitman life will only continue if you do this.

You have the make the change.

Take the leap of faith.

Don’t let the past still define you Barry.

Find. A. Different. Way.

“Shit...” Barry frowns smacking the wheel holding his head down thinking. “He doesn’t deserve her...”

The next day came and Barry watches Sally walk into class alone. Where’s Y/N? Thought she stayed with her. He gets up from his seat sitting behind Sally.

“Hey...where’s Y/N?”

“She went back”

“What?”

“....She’s stupid. But aren’t we all? She went back during the middle of the night. I didn’t hear her leave” Sally frowns as Barry felt the fire start to burn again.

Find a different way

“FUCK” Barry exclaims catching everyone’s attention as he sinks into his seat. “Sorry”

“No! Use that energy. Come up here and show us what you got for the showcase” Gene states as Barry immediately regretted it.

Barry got up from his seat after taking out the monologue reading it’s from The Notebook. He laughs a bit to himself before looking out and seeing Y/N walk in in a turtle neck with a hoodie over it and makeup covering the bruises.

“That’s right. We do that sometimes, remember? We don’t cut each other any slack. If I’m being a jerk or an arrogant sonofabitch, you tell me. If you’re a pain in the a—, which you are ninety-nine percent of the time, I’ve got no problem telling you, or hurting your feelings, which have about a two second rebound rate before you’re off doing the next pain in the a— thing.” Barry frowns looking at Y/N as the rest of the class grew intrigued.

“So, it’s not going to be perfect. We’ll have to work at it every day. But I want you. Not for today, or next week, but forever.” He states stepping down from the stage glancing at the script making his way in Y/N’s direction. “Every day, you and me. Think about your life twenty years or fifty years from now. Where do you want to be? If it’s with that guy, go. I lost you once. I suppose I can do it again. Just don’t take the easy way out. Answer one question for me. Forget about me and your fiancé and your parents for a minute. Forget about what you should do. What about you? What do you want?” Barry ended up in front of Y/N watching her hesitantly reach for him before retracting.

“Jesus CHRIST Barry!” Gene smiles proud of the man as he walks over to the two. “If you can be the closing to the showcase with that same amount of energy. Recruiters will definitely want to represent you!” he smiles watching Y/N retract herself a bit before getting an idea. “If it works best with Y/N on the stage. She can be there. Prove you’d be good with a partner even if it is a monologue.”

“If...that’s okay with you” Barry frowns looking Y/N as she nods agreeing to do so.

“Great! Now let’s go to the next person, better have that off script Barry!”

Barry frowns looking at Y/N as she just stares at him. She watches him reach to reassure but the automatic stepping back indicated she didn’t want to be touched. By any one for that matter.

When the class was over Barry stepped out carrying a weight on his chest wishing he can break a barrier and risk it all. But he didn’t want more people to get hurt and he didn’t want to disappear. Barry made his way toward his car about to get in when he felt a small hand grab his sleeve. He turns around locking eyes with Y/N as he of course stopped for her.

“...can um...s-shit”

“You need me?”

“yeah...”

“Just. Text me, and I’ll do whatever you need me to do” Barry says calmly as he connected the dots to why she’s wearing a turtle neck and her voice was low.

First stop was a pharmacy. Barry walked with her as Y/N grabbed what she needed. Ice pack, bandages, anti bacterial spray, and foundation. He felt very protective of her in the public scene thinking her “boyfriend” can pop up at any minute or really anybody would look at her a certain way and he’d want to kick their ass.

“can..I stay with you...B-Barry?” Y/N asks after she paid. She looks down at her feet for a moment thinking he’d say no when he obviously said it’s okay for her to stay with him.

“Um. I have roommates”

“That’s ok...I j-just...don’t need t...the lecture from S-Sally” Y/N frowns watching Barry hesitantly step closer to her afraid anything he’ll do she’ll feel uncomfortable. She looks up at him seeing the worry in his expression.

“Can you let me....take care of you?” Barry knows she won’t directly tell her what the asshole did. Barry expecting a no wasn’t coming from her. She nods watching Barry take her things to carry for her. “Just need to make...one more stop before we go to my place”

“Ok...”

Y/N found herself staying extremely close to Barry in the grocery store as he grabs what he needs to get. She watches around them having the same feeling Barry has except hers is fear driven.

“Broth?” Y/N asks picking up the carton from the cart.

“I’m not gonna give you straight broth if that’s what you’re thinking” Barry laughs a bit catching a smile from Y/N. “Even though I like straight broth” he states putting in a few seasoning in the cart. “Are you allergic to anything so I know not to get it?”

“No, you’re good” Y/N smiles making Barry feel a bit better but he still worried.

A few hours went by and Y/N found herself sitting on Barry’s bed staring down at her phone seeing texts from him and she immediately felt awful. Y/N started to cry thinking about what she’s gotten herself into because she was blind to it all until it got to this degree. The blame was definitely being put onto herself when no one sees it as her fault. Barry especially didn’t and all he wants to do is see her happy again. That smile of hers brightens his day...he misses it. Barry steps in carrying a bowl of soup he made, being in LA for some time you pick up at least ten minutes to watch cooking videos, and he immediately set the bowl and spoon on his desk before moving everything to the side of the bed and sitting in front of her. He didn’t want to pull her into his arms to comfort her but his presents was enough until Y/N grabbed his face resting her forehead against his. She continued to cry but it slowly burned into sniffling. He leans into it feeling her rub her thumbs against his cheeks taking a minute to take it all in.

He cares about you. He’s there for you right now and he always has been. Take a minute to appreciate what he’s doing. He doesn’t seem to be going anywhere....

He’s dedicated to caring about you.

No more words were said that night between Barry and Y/N. Except when Barry wanted to see what he did because he knew Y/N couldn’t see most of the “damage” so he offered to help. He also carries quite the first aid kit with him since he used to get hurt a lot and Fuches was a terrible doc so he had to learn. Y/N took off her hoodie before hesitantly slipping off her turtle neck. Her arms instantly covered herself but once Barry got a look where everything is, he got up going into his dresser and grabbing one of his t-shirts having her wear it so she doesn’t have to sit in just a bra. He moved himself closure looking at most angles of the bruising as he goes into his first aid knowing she bought ice packs but those were ones that’ll take time in the freezer when he has ones you punch and it’ll take a little moment to get there but it’d be cold enough. He popped two of them, one for her neck and the other for her cheek. Y/N had a few bruises on her arms that weren’t as bad as the ones needing the ice packs, he mainly focused on disinfecting the scratches and putting bandaids on the few that need them. Barry watched her start to shake making his worry get worse as he took her hand carefully into his sitting it out with her.

After putting everything away and Y/N eating what he made for her...she took his bed as Barry laid on the floor. The two were awake the entire night and thinking about their own deals...

I love her

He cares about me

I don’t want to step over the line

Why couldn’t he be like Barry?

I risk my life every day...I don’t want her to get hurt by it if she becomes apart of it.

Barry Berkman...you truly do make me feel lucky to be alive.

When the day of the showcase came, Barry took his roommates advice to wear the part with a white button down tucked into his black slacks with a belt and shoes were just his pair of converse. He didn’t wear a tie but the first few buttons were unbutton and his sleeves were rolled up. Y/N was apart of his monologue, clearly with no lines, and she wore one of Barry’s long sleeves for the soul fact that she’s playing a love interest and on the other hand wants to be comfortable. His part was last and he waited behind stage with Y/N until their time to get on stage came. Barry watched Y/N check her phone every now and then watching her eyes trail from one thing to another as her tense expression said everything.

“Barry! Y/N! You’re up next. Be on deck” Sasha states to the two before going back to helping Nick out of his costume.

Barry looks at Y/N seeing her look up at him smiling a bit to reassure them both.

“You’ll do perfectly Barry”

“Y/N....”

“Hm-“

“ON DECK”

The two flinch to the yell before going to the deck staring at Natalie and Antonio get close to wrapping up. Barry quickly turns to Y/N and before he could say anything Y/N grabbed his collar pulling him down to her level kissing him suddenly. The startling factor being the tears that rolled down her cheeks during it. Barry frowns parting gently resting his hands on her face.

“YOU TWO ARE ON!” Sally pushes the two in when the lights were down.

Y/N stood on her mark staring at Barry’s back where he started before turning to the crowd wiping away the tears that shed but a figure in the crowd stung in her heart. She held her head down for a moment before bringing it up when the lights turned on and Barry turned to her.

“That’s right. We do that sometimes, remember? We don’t cut each other any slack. If I’m being a jerk or an arrogant sonofabitch, you tell me. If you’re a pain in the a—, which you are ninety-nine percent of the time, I’ve got no problem telling you, or hurting your feelings, which have about a two second rebound rate before you’re off doing the next pain in the a— thing.” Barry states stepping forward and as he got closer to her his body retracted when she started crying. “So, it’s not going to be perfect. We’ll have to work at it every day.....But I want you.” He says resting his hand on her cheek watching her ease into it.

“I-....” Y/N choked looking up at Barry seeing he’s meaning what he’s saying. For them. Not the scene.

“Not for today, or next week, but forever. Every day, you and me. Think about your life twenty years or fifty years from now. Where do you want to be? If it’s with that guy, go. I lost you once. I suppose I can do it again. Just don’t take the easy way out. Answer one question for me. Forget about me and your fiancé and your parents for a minute. Forget about what you should do.” Barry states feeling her grab his shirt shaking right in front of him as the crying got heavier. “What about you? What do you want?” he whispers but the mic picked it up for everyone and before the lights went down, he presses his forehead against hers.

When the lights went off Barry pulls a bit away feeling Y/N grip onto his shirt for dear life. He looked out into the crowd watching the asshole stand up and he couldn’t take it.

Think of a different way. Fuck a different way.

When the students merged with the crowd, Barry immediately pushes her abusive boyfriend out into the open. Forcing him outside and before any of them said another word.

“Barry please—“ Y/N quickly caught up with the two staring at Barry look at him and the asshole. “Josh. Leave. Please just leave.”

“The fuck? I came to support you. But you went up with this guy? Are you cheating on me with this fucking asshat?” Josh got up in Barry’s face which wasn’t a good choice.

“I DIDNT ASK YOU TO COME” Y/N yells watching Josh push Barry only to make him retaliate the same way. “Barry please don’t do anything”

“Yeah. Listen to the fucking slu-“ before he could finish, Barry had head butted him in the face watching him stumble.

Y/N knew she could get in the crossfire but didn’t care as she tries to step in when Barry stepped in front of her when Josh grew infuriated immediately punching Barry in the face. But before he could retaliate, Nick and Antonio pulled him back as Sally and Sasha pulled Y/N into their embrace keeping her away from them.

“You gotta leave dude” Jermaine states to Josh as he gives Y/N an annoyed looked before looking back at Barry.

“Are you really fucking worth it? Or just an asshole like the rest of us” Josh states pushing Jermaine away from him before storming off tending to his broken nose.

Barry frowns relaxing so Nick and Antonio can let go of him. He adjusts himself before going back inside where Y/N quickly followed him. She grabs his arm forcing him to look at her when they were alone in a hallway.

“Why? Why did you...you didn’t have to”

“He shouldn’t have come..”

“I know but Barry—“

“That asshole doesn’t deserve you. He never did. You deserve so much better. I—FUCK” Barry frowns looking away to take a minute.

“Barry...”

“What?” He frowns looking at her watching embrace his arm being directly close. She looks up at him with a questionable look.

“You care about me....”

“There’s..so much more Y/N” Barry took his arm back to move his hands to her face locking eyes with the gorgeous woman in front of him. “I love you...I love you and it hurt me seeing what he did to you. All....all I want to do is protect you. Protect that smile of yours...only if you let me...and you did that night, but it started a hatred seeing him come tonight. He shouldn’t have come”

“I know...It was...a surprise to the both of us...” Y/N started to tear up again feeling Barry gently wipe them away with his thumbs. “You love me...? Even if...I’m broken goods?”

“You’re not broken goods Y/N...and if it takes a life time for me to show how worthy you are to me and everybody. Then I’m willing to take that time....because you mean the world to me”

“Oh Barry...” Y/N moves his hands off of her face bringing her arms around his neck hugging the tall man as Barry instantly wrapped his arms around her waist lifting her from the ground slightly. Holding her like his life depends on it digging his face into her shoulder. “You mean the world to me too....”

“I love you...I love you Y/N”

“I love you too Barry....”

[join-the-joywrite]

Hamish & Vera soulmate au headcannons

Lil headcannons for a colours soulmate au in which the S1 finale wasn't the first time Hamish had been hit in the face with the powder. Because why not? This version of the colours is the one where you can only see varying shades of the colour of your soulmate's eyes. Because why not?

Largely inspired from some of the vibes I gave myself in the telepathic au so here goes nothin (mild angst, I think) it's gonna be a long one 0.0

To give a time frame, Hamish has been a Knight for six years. Cassie's been dead for three years (I personally like the idea that Cassie died one year into Hamish being a Knight, but for the purposes of this au, we're gonna go with her dying in Hamish's third year as a Knight.)

It's late as shit and it's raining and Hamish is trying to get under cover because A) he just happened to choose today to wear a suede jacket and B) Tundra really doesn't appreciate the rain for some reason. [Now that I think of it, has it ever rained on the show??? Am I just forgetful or does Belgrave not see rain, like, ever?]

He spies an open door and rushes in side, dropping his bag and pulling the jacket off to shake the water away. Maybe he can salvage it. Or maybe, Tundra suggests, they can just rip it apart. For fun, obviously.

In the dark and with the loud pattering of the rain, the newcomer doesn't see Hamish and collides with him.

"Fucking shit weather," Vera complains to herself as she regains her balance.

"Chancellor Stone," Hamish recognises her in the very dim light of the building. The jacket might be ruined but it still has some weight and she's shivering in her pretty silk shirts.

Vera accepts the jacket and leans over to wring her hair out.

"Did you know that you're wearing three different shades of green?" "Your soulmate's eyes are probably green." "They are. But you are wearing three different shades of-- oh, four if you count your shoes."

Vera lifts her head to throw Hamish an annoyed look, as if he's being incredibly stupid, and notices everything isn't blue any longer. She's seeing colours she doesn't know the name for any longer. For the first time, she can see the colour of her own skin and she. Is. Entranced.

The nail polish bottle had said red and someone who'd already met their soulmate had once told her red nails make a person look powerful. But for the first time, Vera can see what red looks like.

She glances at a noticeboard beside her and runs her hand over a poster for some musical auditions. "I don't know what colour this is anymore," she whispers to herself.

"Pink," Hamish supplies, captured with the way Vera is seeing the world through new eyes. He guides her hand to a different poster. "Yellow." And a different one. "Lilac." And yet another. "Mint." And another. "Brown."

And then the novelty fades. "How do you know all of them?"

Vera hadn't been seeing colours before she the rain had come down on her and Hamish was the first person she'd met since she left her office. But if this was the first time she was seeing all the colours, shouldn't it be the first time Hamish was seeing them too?

"Ah. You . . . you're not my first."

"I see." The novelty has completely worn off and any excitement Vera had previously shown was deeply buried. "And where is this first?"

"Dead," Hamish admits bluntly.

"Oh! Oh . . . I'm sorry . . ." "Hamish." "What?" "My name. It's Hamish Duke."

"You should run before the rain starts coming down harder again." Vera looks out and notices that yes, the rain is slowing down. She moves to return the jacket. "No, keep it. It's ruined anyway, just toss it in the trash when you're in your house and warm."

"But you could use--" "I'll be fine, Chancellor."

Vera pauses, hand on the door. "Vera." "What?" "My first name is Vera."

Hamish stands in the middle of the building's foyer, hands in his pockets, and smiles. "Get home safe, Vera."

She does get home safe and she doesn't toss the jacket like he told her to. She fixes it up with some spell and keeps it in the back of her wardrobe.

For the next one and a half years, Vera is slowly getting more and more eaten up with the guilt that she's not telling Hamish about the Order. Little does she know, Hamish has several times thought about telling her about the Knights -- maybe even taking her down to the hide locker.

He does tell her about Cassie though. Explaining how he could identify all the colours because he'd seen them before. Vera asked what happened after Cassie died. "The world goes back to black and white, so I've heard." "But yours didn't." "Because of you." "Cheesy bastard." And then they're laughing again.

It's raining again. Vera can hear the rain drumming against the windows of Hamish's apartment windows.

"I need to talk to you." There is a pause where they both wait for the other to speak. Then Hamish gestures for Vera to speak when he notices her tightly clenched fist and the strange look in her eyes.

"I want to start of with I'm sorry. No let me finish." And in a single breath, Vera gets it all out. "I'm part of a secret society of magic practitioners called the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose and is dedicated to preserving and passing on the art of magic but every breath you take in the Order could be your last because it is so fucking dangerous to be one of the disciples and I've never told you about it because I don't want you dragged into that world."

"Vera--" and then he's passed out on the couch they were sitting on.

Vera takes a few seconds to decide whether or not she's making a mistake before deciding that neither option seemed to be a very good one.

"Your name is Hamish Duke. You have never heard of the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose. You have never personally met Vera Stone and you have no idea who your soulmate is."

By the time Hamish wakes, Vera has vanished. He feels fine, as if he'd just fallen asleep to the sound of the rain, something feels wrong about the apartment. Like it's missing something, like something crucial to making it a home had been ripped away.

Hamish starts staying at the den and his apartment sits and collects dust.

"Son of a bitch!" Vera cries when she figures out Jack Morton is a werewolf. She thinks she can't be further surprised ever. She'd bet Jack 20 dollars nothing could surprise her again.

Son of a bitch! She thinks as soon as she walks into the den. Part of her is glad she never vocalised that bet. The other part of her kinda wishes Alyssa had killed her like Coventry asked.

"I need a drink." Hamish is utterly appalled to see a stranger, let alone, the Temple Magus of the Order, his enemy, standing at his bar counter. But then he notices that she actually made a pretty decent drink for herself there.

"No killing." "No promises." Ah, just like old times -- except now with the looming threat of death hanging over their heads. Such fun.

At this point, you may put on Kathleen Edwards' cover of It Must Have Been Love -- and cry with me.

Vera would have assigned a disciple to Hamish, but she knee there was no way she would be able to go down into the den and watch the disciples clear it out without breaking and calling off the entire thing. It's not as if her task now is any better, but Hamish is a sight for sore eyes and she tells herself that if their roles were swapped, she would want him to come to her.

"Magus," he says when she approaches him somewhere near the temple. He notices she's wearing a suede jacket that surely can't be her own. He doesn't comment on it. "What can I do for you?"

"Part of me wishes it hadn't come to this." "Come to what? Coventry is gone, the book is gone, Jack's alive . . . most of the Order is fine. I'd say we're at a pretty good spot."

"You know, Hamish, there's a lot that I want to say to you but not enough words."

Hamish was pretty sure Vera Stone never called anyone by their first names -- at least, that's what he knows from Jack and Lilith. So what made him so special? "Like what?"

"I'm sorry."

"For?"

"Secrets," Vera says, turning away. "Secrets are terrible things. They ruin the best of things and can break down nearly everything."

"What sort of secrets?" Hamish stares at the back of Vera's head as she watches the students walk by in the distance.

Vera's hand shakes as she covers her mouth to keep her breath from shaking too. What's the point in hiding? He won't remember. "I love you."

Hamish gives a nervous laugh. She's not mentally afflicted ...... is she?

"I love you and I'm sorry." "You keep saying you're sorry, Magus, and--" "Please. My name is Vera."

Hamish is, at this point, fully confused. Did Vera perhaps smoke something? He goes up to her to ask her if she's okay. Her shoulder shakes under his hand.

"Vera--"

Vera drops to her knees with Hamish, stopping his head from touching the ground. And for a second, she allows a tear or two to fall. This makes twice.

"Your name is Hamish Duke. You're a TA at Belgrave. You've never heard of the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose. You've never heard of thr Knights of St Christopher." Her whispering voice breaks and shudders. "Your soulmate's name was Cassie. She died in a car crash five years ago. You're dating Selena Durov." She pauses for a second, hesitating to say the words. "You've never personally met Vera Stone."

She stands up and waits for herself to calm herself before gently shaking his shoulders and pulling him up.

"Chancellor, wha--" "You passed out as I was walking by. Are you okay?" "Yeah, just . . . I don't know." "Well . . . um . . ."

"It was nice meeting you, Chancellor Stone." "Likewise."

And then she leaves because if she stands there any longer, she's going to break. Hamish calls for her as she's leaving. She pretends she can't hear him. Hamish picks up the necklace glinting in the sunlight. It's a simple and single letter H hanging from a chain. Perhaps it belonged to Cassie and he kept it in her memory? Must've been a nasty fall if his own memories are so foggy.

Vera watches from behind a concealment spell as Selena finally finds Hamish. He hurriedly throws the chain over his own neck and offers Selena his arm. He glances back once to see Vera walking away.

Part two

I had to break it up I'm taking a cry break

See the other soulmate aus I've done

[asktheheartsprincess]

It’s a Dangerous Game (Celena Nightmare Event, Part 3): Solo Para

Continued from here: 

Find part one here: 

Time was a blur after Ardenzana’s execution.  Cora found herself imprisoned in a corner of the palace, but this time it was a room dedicated to “The Atrocities of the House of Hearts.”  Sometimes people passed through on a tour, and Cora realized from their discussion she was also considered an atrocity.  An abomination.  Some people poked at her cage, trying to see if they could get her to slip.  Much to Cora’s dismay, it happened more often than she’d like.  Yet she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

What was there to care about, after all?  Her mother was dead.  Her queendom was gone.  Her friends had abandoned her.  And her father had married the woman who’d executed her mother. 

Cora had nothing anymore. 

“Thought you would have run out of tears by now, princess.”

Cora blinked, red-rimmed eyes making contact with the person who previously was her greatest nightmare.   Unlike everyone else in Wonderland these days, he wasn’t wearing blue or white, but then again, he never had.  He wore black, though the leather was less worn than she remembered it.  His cloak swept the floor, but if she knew him as well as she thought she did, she knew he could still have concealed weaponry on his person.

“Thought you would have stopped pretending to care,” she shot back. 

“Am I pretending?” he asked, stepping closer to the bars of her cage.  A smirk played at the corner of his lips, and Cora wished Alice hadn’t taken her daggers, because she would loved to rip the smirk off his face personally.

“You always were,” she said, daring him to contradict her, “So why stop now, Raphael?”

The name fell from her lips like water, but it burned her as though it were acid.  Cora hadn’t spoken his name in years, vowing to leave him behind like the terror he was, but what was a little more terror now?

Raphael shrugged, “Are we laying all our cards on the table then, princess?”  He smiled, stepping even closer, and Cora hated, just hated, how he looked so confident.  And guiltless.  Then again, while he understood how to manipulate others’ guilt, he’d never seemed to really apply the concept to himself.

Determined to restore some semblance of dignity to herself, Cora wiped away her tears.  Sitting on her knees- which she’d learned was the best way to maintain her balance in case someone pushed her cage –she narrowed her eyes at him.  He had no reason to be here, and taunting her was too juvenile for a game of his.  So what was he here for, exactly?

“You still doubt me?” Raphael asked, seeming almost surprised.  He shook his head, and said, “Fine.  You want the truth?  Father’s price to get back into the Church, to repent for having me, was bringing in thousands of souls who’d previously never known God.  The Isle wasn’t a place for that, but Wonderland would certainly work.  And what wickeder way to start than with its princess?”

“I know that, Raph,” Cora said, “I get it.  I figured it out, though I’d really like to stop losing this goddamn game over and over.”  Despite herself, she was perversely pleased to see him flinch at her swear.

“Besides, what does it matter now?  Wonderland’s got a new royal family, in case you missed it.  I’m an abomination,” Cora wrapped her fingers around the bars, gesturing to the various posters in the room, “I was back then.  Your father said I was cursed by God, which is why I have slips,” after all, that’s why they’d broken up.  Cocking her head at him, Cora added, “I still have them now.  I may not be royal anymore, but I’m still cursed.”

Raphael was so close to her cage now she could feel his breath on her lips.  He ran one hand through her hair, and he murmured:

“God heals all.” 

Fast as lightning, her hand grabbed his, wrenching it away from her hair, “I don’t want your God, Raph.  And I don’t want you.” 

 A long moment passed between them, Raphael’s hazel eyes meeting her own with a self-satisfaction she wanted to crush. 

“Then why,” Raph asked, voice low, as his lips brushed hers, “are you still holding my hand?”

Cora felt as though her brain had short-circuited at his touch.  Her heart, which had seemed frozen for days, actually started to beat again, and she gasped- but once his words sunk in, she threw his palm away from her as though it were ablaze.  

Raphael rubbed one of his hands in the other, a smirk playing at his features, “You’re right, princess.  You’re not ‘royal’ anymore, but I’m not holy either.  The Church won’t let me take Holy Orders because they say I was living in sin.  My father disowned me for it, saying he’d hoped his son wouldn’t inherit such proclivities, but here I am.  And here you are, locked up.  Just…if I’m going to keep sinning, wouldn’t you rather sin with me, princess?  Out of that cage?”

Her heart pounding, Cora tried to regain her senses.  There was a reason they had broken up, and it hadn’t just been because of Frollo’s disapproval of her…condition.  It was also because Raph treated everything- and everyone –as a game.  Including her.  As much as she wanted to believe him, there was no reason for him to change.

No matter how much she’d always wished he would.  That somewhere, buried underneath the charm and the smirks and the lies, was the love she’d given him, returned in equal measure.

Like the devil had tempted Eve with the apple, her own devil tempted her with the key to her cage, holding it before her, “Come on, princess.  Let’s get out of here, leave it all behind.  Go to a place where no one knows our names and maybe, just maybe, they can heal your slips.”

For a brief instant, she allowed herself to dream about it.  They could run far away, somewhere past the Boiling Seas, past the Agrabanian deserts, outside Auradon’s borders.  They could be together, safe, and free, and in love.

Cora shuddered, ashamed at how much she still wanted it. 

“You should go before the guards catch you.  My soul’s beyond saving, Raph.  We both know that,” she said finally, turning away from him.   There was a long silence, and if she didn’t know wickeder, she would have thought she heard Raph sigh in disappointment.

“Though yours, my son, is apparently not.” Judge Frollo walked into the room then, resting a hand on Raphael’s shoulder with a fond squeeze.  To Cora’s horror, Raph smiled:

“Thank you, Father.”

“And as you, Corazana, have admitted to heresy, have no desire for forgiveness, or to seek God at all…” Frollo- now attired in the robes of an Archdeacon –pronounced, “You will burn.   Queen Alice wants this room destroyed anyway.  You will perish in it.”  Not even bothering to give her the Sign of the Cross, he swept away. And Cora was left wondering how much of what had Raph said was a game.  Again.

As for Raphael, he lit a match: “Enjoy hell, princess.”

Refusing to cry for him again, Cora spat, “I will when I meet you there.”

Then Raph threw the match to the ground, and Cora watched him leave her for the last time.

[soimafreaknow]

part 2.

part 1. 

(ao3)

Sometimes you still call Jodie. Just to catch up, see how she’s doing. You’re surprised when she tells you that she’s hunting with a group of girls and Donna. It sounds sort of kick ass. You ask if you can drop by one weekend, maybe when they have a hunt, and she tells you you’re invited any time, but she mentions this weekend might be a particularly good one. You didn’t expect Sam and Dean to be there the same weekend you were. You weren’t dressed in hunting clothes. You were in a summer dress and combat boots, hair wild and held back with a bandanna. The impala was parked in the drive and it took everything, everything, you had not to turn around and head back home.

Your wheels barely hit the driveway before the door swings open and your breath catches at the tall masculine figure standing there, but it’s not Sam. You pull to a stop behind the impala and sharp green eyes are watching you. “(Y/N),” Dean said from the doorway, and you see the look in his eyes, the knowing look that catches you it’s gaze and holds you steady. He’s orchestrated this. Or co-conspired. “Dean.” You smile as you shut the door to your yellow ‘64 mustang. Your mom had had one, once upon a time, and you had hunted for years before you finally found one just like it. She was your baby. “Good to see you. I didn’t know you were going to be in town.” “Jodie invited me. I wanted to see what they were doing. A whole group of bad ass women hunting evil shit? I had to see it. And I was a little jealous.” “Oh, don’t be jealous. You can come along anytime you want. Come here.” Jodie said from the door and you grinned, opening her arms for a hug. “Is this what the big deal was about? Nice car.” Claire said from behind Jodie, but you ignored her. “Jodie, it’s good to see you.” You say into her shoulder. She’s just a little bit taller than you, but you didn’t mind it. “You too. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again, what with the way you just vanished.” “Vanished?” You asked, and Dean looked pointedly at you. “Well, you disappeared with little more than a note. We worried.” “Sam knew-” but you stop, because now Sam is standing in the door and it hits you, the way it had hit you at the bus stop. In my defense I have none… Why had you let him slip through your fingers? Why hadn’t you held on harder? Why hadn’t you just- Just let yourself get killed for a man who would never have put you first. That’s why. “Hey Sam.” You whisper, and his smile is tense, strained, awkward. “It’s good to see you. You look good.” He smiled, eyes lingering fondly on the combat boots. They were the ones he’d bought you, eons ago. In another sort of life. You couldn’t make yourself get rid of them. They were too comfortable. “You too. I like your hair.” It’s shorter than it was last time you saw him, with a slight wave to it that made you want to touch it. His hair had always been one of your favorite things. “Well, let’s not just stand out here. Come in. I’ve got food on the stove and the boys aren’t ruining it, so that’s nice.” Jodie smiled and stepped to clear the doorway. “Hey, I’m making killer burgers for dinner. You just wait.” Dean cut in and corralled you inside, leaving you no space to even consider an escape. Not that you would’ve. You weren’t a teenager anymore. You wouldn’t just run. Probably. - The tension through lunch was palpable. You and Sam were civil, but Dean obviously held some hostility. Talking with Jody and even Alex was easy, but Claire seemed to be holding a grudge as much as Dean was and talking with Sam felt so stilted. Neither of you had really wanted to break things off, but neither of you had been willing to change your lives to the degree necessary to incorporate the other. The more you saw Sam the more you wondered why you’d been so resistant. Dean’s usual enthusiasm cut the tension between the two of you as you poked fun at him and he said you were losing too much weight without the hunt to keep you in supply of junk food. Even Sam laughed along and when his hand had reached across the table to catch yours without even thinking about it you both let it happen for a few second before you realize that it wasn’t supposed to be happening. He pulled his hand back first and you kept your hands in your lap for the rest of lunch. His hand had been just as warm as you remembered it being. It still encompassed yours the way no one else’s could. Non-threatening, not even remotely possessive and it felt perfect. Calluses in all the same spots. The year apart hadn’t changed either of you much, but nothing was the same anymore. - You’re hugging Jodie goodbye before dinner is even served. Stephanie is texting you with a fake emergency at work (even though you don’t work with Stephanie) and you’re making excuses. When you’re taking your still-packed duffel bag back to the car Dean pretends to help you out, taking the strap from you and walking it out for you. You try to claim misogyny, but even Jody refuses to help you out. She raises an eyebrow like she knows exactly what Dean is up to. “Okay, what the fuck. You’re both obviously miserable, so what gives? I know that text was fake, so I want the truth.” You took the bag from Dean and threw it into the back seat. “I don’t have to answer that.” “I think I deserve some kind of explanation after you just left like that. Sam’s still hung up on it, and you obviously are too. What the hell?” “Drop it, Dean,” You said through gritted teeth. He wouldn’t like the answer, and you weren’t feeling up to lying. You would’ve loved to have stayed with Sam, but you just can’t live the full time hunter life anymore. A hunt here or there, sure, but you wanted a life, a real life, with friends who went to karaoke bars with you on the weekends and worked at thrift shops. You wanted to be normal, at least sometimes. You didn’t want to live every day wondering if the next hunt would be the one you died for. And then there was the stress. The stress of the hunt, of living on hustled pool and bad credit cards, Sam. The stress of wondering if Sam would come back was terrible. The fear of what might happen to him if you weren’t with him was too much in the long term. And you couldn’t go with him. Not anymore. You’d fought about it a lot in the end. Years without having any real fights only to suddenly feel like fighting was all you did. You feel the tears well and you turn away form Dean before he can see them. “No, I’m not gonna drop it. Whatever you think in that messed up head of yours, I care about you. Sam sure as hell cares about you. So why’d you run off?” “We broke up, Dean. I didn’t exactly want to keep living in the bunker.” “Nah, no, none of that bullshit.” He turned you to face him and you gritted your teeth, forcing your face to stay still, blank, impassive. “You could’ve moved out, sure, but you dropped out. No one’s heard from you in hunter circles since. You didn’t leave hunting for Sam. I know you. You’re more dedicated than that.” “I left hunting for me.” You said quietly, the tears stinging. “I left hunting because I was always going to and… Sam wouldn’t come with me.” You swallowed hard, feeling a single tear track down your face. “I begged him. He begged me. You think I wanted to leave him? Sam was one of the only good things in my life. But sometimes you just have to put yourself first.” You pulled out of his grip and got into the car while Dean was still gaping at you, processing what you’d said. “Wait, hold on.” He said as you were already pulling out. “Hey. I’m not done talking to you!” You were done talking him though. You pulled out and nearly hit Dean in the process, but he was smart enough to get out of the way when you looked determined. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. You didn’t see Sam watch you go or hear Dean yell “Damn it!” As you disappeared down the road, leaving Jody’s place in the dust. - “So, spill. What the hell? You were so excited about this trip.” Stephanie said as she pushed a wine glass your way. “My ex showed up.” You sighed and she raised an eyebrow. “What ex? The ex. The one who you quit your last job to get away from?” “I didn’t quit to get away from him.” You sighed, taking a sip of your wine and letting it warm you up a little bit. “I was going to leave anyway. I just wanted him to come with me.” “And he wouldn’t.” She sighed, pouring herself a drink. “Touch break, babe. So your ex showed up at your friend’s place. Then what?” “I couldn’t deal with it. I’m still hung up on him. Of course I am, we were great right up until I wanted to talk about quitting.” “What were you doing that was so bad.” “Porn.” You said with a sad grin and she rolled her eyes. “I know it’s not porn. I’d know if you’d done porn.” You shrug. “Fine, don’t tell me. You’re entitled to your secrets.” “And that’s why I love you.” You smiled and took another sip of wine. “I’m just… I wasn’t expecting them and I spent all afternoon with them.” “Them?” “His brother was there too.” “Fuck. That’s rough.” She added more wine to your glass and you laughed. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” “Is it working?” She asked without missing a beat and you shook your head. “It’s going to be hot by the time I finish drinking it.” “Drink it faster. Loosen your lips. You’re obviously upset about this guy, so spill.” “So… We met on the job…” - Later that night, while you’re still a little tipsy, you get a text from Sam. — Sam: Hey. Hope everything with work is going okay. Text if you need anything. Y/N: Thanks. It’s going alright. I’ll text. You won’t text. You haven’t texted him first once since the break up. You always reply, just so he doesn’t get scared that you’ve been killed, but you never text him first. Sam: I don’t know what Dean said to you, but I’m sorry. You looked really upset when you left. Y/N: We’ve never really seen eye to eye. It’s no big deal. Sam: Was it about us? You don’t respond for several minutes, trying to decide what to say. He knows you too well, and you know he does when he responds after ten minutes. Sam: I’m taking that as a yes. Sam: How much did you tell him? Y/N: Nothing he shouldn’t have already known. Sam: He’s kind of slow on the uptake. He seemed to think you’d dropped a bomb. Y/N: He thought I left hunting because we broke up. I told him it he had it the wrong way around. Sam: That might be my fault. I really didn’t clarify. Sam: I didn’t want to talk about it at first, and by the time I could we had already moved on. Y/N: It’s fine. You don’t owe him an explanation. Or me. Sam: I know. I just know how Dean can be and I don’t want you to think I put him up to it. Y/N: It’s like you think I don’t know you. You didn’t even know I was going to Jodie’s, did you? Sam: No, Dean just said he wanted to visit and we left. Y/N:  They planned it. They had to have. Sam: I don’t think Jodie knew we were coming either. She seemed surprised to see us. Y/N: Well, that’s good. At least it was just your brother with ulterior motives. Incoming Call Sam Winchester Shit. “Shit.” You whisper, but you swipe and answer anyway. “Leave my brother alone you heart breaking-” “Dean!” Sam yelled on the other end of the line and you hear a squabble and the phone drops and bounces on the floor, or a table or some other hard surface. “Sam, you’re texting her. You’ve been moping over her for a year and now you’re texting her like a friggin’ teenage idiot.” “Dean!” You hear a body thud against the ground and then the phone scrapes across whatever surface it landed on as Sam picks it back up. “I’m sorry. Ignore him.” Sam said, panting for breath. “I’ve been doing it as long as I’ve known him.” You laugh, but you’re tense, nervous to be speaking to him again. That’s twice in twenty four hours that you’ve had to talk to the man you wished could be your everything. You hear Dean mutter something on the other end of the line, but the phone goes silent and for a second you think maybe he’s hung up, but the sound of a door closing and Sam sighing assures you that he hasn’t. The silence feels pressing, but neither of you want to speak. The things you could say and things you want to say don’t overlap very well. “This is awkward.” Sam finally said, breaking the tension, and you laughed. “That might be an understatement.” “Yeah. I know.” The familiar sound of Sam’s terrible bed frame squeaking against the floor told you that he’d taken a seat. He was probably hunched over and staring at the ground between his feet, one hand balled into a fist. You’d seen him get like that sometimes, when he wasn’t quite sure what to do. “You ran away yesterday.” He breaks the silence again. You feel bad putting that responsibility on him, but you were still a little foggy headed and very aware that your brain to mouth filter didn’t work as well when you were drunk. You weren’t that drunk. But still. “I wasn’t ready to see you guys. I wasn’t expecting it. I would’ve prepped. Done some mental gymnastics to convince myself that I could be normal. I wasn’t ready.” “Neither was I.” He sighed, and you can hear the tension in his body. You used to wrap yourself around him from behind, hug him and press your head to his shoulder blade. Rub his shoulders. The memory makes your hands ache for something to touch and you squeeze one of the couch cushions in your hand. “I’m sorry.” You said, and you were. The first time you’d seen him in a year and you’d just run off without warning or explanation. It would be hard not to take something like that personally. “I’m sorry. For everything. You know I would’ve gone with you, if I could.” “I know.” You whisper. “I knew you wouldn’t come even when I was asking. I just… I had to hear you say it. Or else I’d have held out.” “You still holding out?” You nod and lean back into the soft cushions of your couch. He can’t see you, and you know that, but words get stuck in your throat like too much honey, sluggish, and too sweet to be pleasant. “I think I’ll always be holding out. I can’t imagine… It’ll always be you. Even when you get killed by actual God, because I’m convinced that’s the only way you’re going out, it’s always just going to be you.” “I wish it wasn’t. For you.” It hurts to hear him say it, even though you know what he means. He cares about you enough that he wishes you could let him go, move on, find someone else. “Me too.” You wipe your eyes. When had you started crying? “I know you don’t want to, but if you ever did…” “I won’t come back.” You whispered. “It was killing me, Sam. It was killing me.” “I know.” “But if it hadn’t been. If I could’ve stayed. I would’ve.” “I know.” “I didn’t mean to break your heart, Sam.” “I know.” His voice cracks and you sniffle. “If you cry I promise I won’t tell Dean.” “Oh shut up.” He laughed, and you heard the thickness in his words. The way he was barely holding onto it. “I mean it. It’ll stay our secret.” “You’re keeping enough secrets for me already. I don’t think you need any more.” “Sure I do. I love keeping your secrets, Sam. I’d have kept your secrets for the rest of my life. ‘Til death do us part. “Careful. You’ll get my hopes up.” “I had a ring.” You told him. “Well. Two rings. One for each of us. I was going to do the whole corny proposal thing. Like, I was going to get down on one knee, but on the table so we’d still be relatively the same height and I could look you in the eye. I wasn’t going to propose while staring at your knees. You’re such a sasquatch.” “You’re drunk.” He said, like he’d just realized it, and you laughed. “Yeah. Kind of. Stephanie and I shared a bottle of wine. We didn’t exactly get plastered.” “Stephanie is…?” “My friend. I meant it when I said I was holding out.” “I didn’t mean for that to sound like that. It’s good you’re making friends. You’re too anti-social.” “Shots fired, Sam. I can be social when I want to be.” “So, rarely.” “Exactly.” “I just mean I’m glad you’re not isolated.” “Me too. I’d probably have gone back to you otherwise. I’d be dead.” “I would’ve done everything I could to stop that.” “Yeah. Up to and including getting yourself killed. I couldn’t let you do that.” He doesn’t respond for a minute. Then two. You wonder if he’s hung up and you just didn’t notice. “You could’ve stopped. If we’d have put our foot down, explained to Dean, and Cas, and everyone how it was affecting you… They wouldn’t have asked you to get yourself killed for a case.” You smile at his hope. So naive. You close your eyes to respond, to keep the tears from blocking your vision and making you panic. Your voice a soft hoarse whisper. “Yes they would’ve.” You swallowed back your fear, pain. “Not at first. But eventually there would’ve been a case that would’ve been worth it, and another, and another. There’s a reason you and Jodi are the only people with any connection to hunting that have my info. There’s always going to be a case, some case, that could use someone with my psychic abilities. And if you asked, I would go. That’s why I love you, you know. You never ask.” “I never will. Not unless it literally means the fate of the entire world.” “And I’d want to help with that anyway.” You smile sadly. “I go on small hunts in the area. Take care of what I can. I didn’t stop. I just… broke contact.” “Yeah. I kind of figured that one out. We went to catch a hunt somewhere in your area, and by the time we got there there was no trace of it. Everyone we talked to described someone who looked just like you coming to talk to them a day earlier.” You sighed. “And that’s the danger of hunting. But… I can’t just let a case go. Not when people are getting hurt and I can stop it.” “I know.” “You do know. You know me so well. Too well. I should be afraid.” “No, you shouldn’t. You know me too. We know each other. I’m always going to be safe to you.” “Yeah.” You craddled your phone gently against your face and imagined you were back in the bunker, curled up next to Sam. It was a fantasy that you didn’t indulge in often, but sometimes you let yourself think about it. “You were the greatest thing to ever happen to me. You know that, right?” “I thought that was 85% dark chocolate.” “Mmm, I was trying to make you feel good. But yeah, the chocolate comes first.” He laughed and it made your chest ache, like a fist reaching in and gripping your lungs. You missed his laugh. The moment passed, almost unacknowledged. You didn’t blame Sam. It wasn’t the sort of thing he’d want to hear. “Maybe you should come and see me. Just the two of us.” “Maybe. We can revisit the idea when you’re sober.” “I’ll say no when I’m sober.” “So we can revisit the idea when you’re sober.” “You are a good man, Sam Winchester. A stupidly tall, very handsome, good man. I’m very obviously inviting you for a one night stand, and you’re taking the high road.” “That wasn’t obvious, actually.” His voice was taking on that avoidant-nervous quality that you knew meant he was flustered. You licked your lips at the memory. “In that case, we’re definitely revisiting the idea only once you’re sober.” “You’re no fun.” You say, but there’s no heat, only mirth. “You’re too drunk to consent.” “I’m fine. Probably.” “You’re not, but it’s cute that you think you are.” “You think I’m cute?” You giggle and you hear him laugh on the other end of the line. “Yeah. I do.” “Well, good.” You don’t talk after that. You just listen to him breath like a freak and he lets you. Maybe he’s listening to you too. You fall asleep on the couch with your cat curled up at your feet and wake up a few hours later, freezing in the night air. He’s still on the line. You close your eyes so you don’t see your finger tap the red button that will end your call. You don’t hear from him after that. Not for a long time.

[criminalromantic]

Cornelia Street - Chapter 7 (Billy Russo x Fem!Reader)

Summary: What happens when you and Billy don’t see each other?

Word Count: 1797

A/N: this is kind of a filler chapter, but I hope you enjoy it 

Warnings: none

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Don’t come over today.

Was the text that you quickly sent Billy as you were ready for work. To say that you were nervous was an understatement. Never before you sent Billy that kind of text, but then again, you were always excited to see him. That one week alone was already quite a ride and you just wanted to be done with it and sort through your thoughts. It seemed to be chilly, but sunny day and you were not willing to let anyone or anything ruin your Friday. 

As the day went you were feeling less tense, but at the same time more. You were thankful for every single minute when Billy didn’t show up. At the same time, you were scared that Billy replied to your text or worse - he would come through the door anytime and confront you about it. That is why you didn’t touch your phone since you sent the text and it has been hours since then. 

The worst thing probably was that he didn’t know the reason behind your sudden change of heart. He didn’t know what he did or how you felt about it. According to his reputation and how it portrayed him to be, something like this was exactly something he would do. 

Sound of the door opening brought you down to earth. It was a woman who bought a small bouquet for her friend’s birthday. Moments after she left, a man walked in. 

He was tall, visibly muscular with short dark hair. As he walked towards you, you noticed his face looked like it had experienced a lot, but you didn’t judge. 

“Hi, how may I help you?” You asked somewhat cheerfully out of habit as the man now stood on the other side of the counter.

“Hi, I’m looking to buy something for my girlfriend. A good pal of mine recommended this place, saying it’s his favorite in all of New York.” For some strange reason, he seemed a bit nervous as he spoke, a little smile on his lips.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that. I’m guessing that your friend really must like flowers. Anyway, what can I get you?” 

“Seven pink roses, please. And no, he was never particularly into flowers. At least until, recently.” He explained as you grabbed the flowers and positioned them to arrange them. Could it be?

“Really? That’s interesting, but not in a bad way. Flowers can make our lives a little more beautiful one bouquet at a time.” For a second you raised your head to smile at the man. As you were finishing with your work, in the corner of your eye you saw him shifting from one leg to another uncomfortably. But you didn’t say anything.

“Alright, your total is 26 dollars.” He put a few bucks in front of you before you even finished your sentence. You handed him the change, he took it and put it all in your tip jar. 

“Wow, that’s quite generous of you, thank you.” You said as 14 dollars landed in it. 

“Excellent service, what can I say?” He hung around like he wanted to say something. Seconds later he turned around with a quick “bye” and left.

The rest of the day went by fast. Like every Friday, there were a lot of people buying flowers for dates or other celebrations, but the last hour was basically dead. Sometimes you wondered what it is like - to be hanging out with friends at a party or a bar or someone’s place. You never really get to do that. Usually, you’re tired after work and you’re more of a daytime person anyway. Most of your friends are like that too and the ones that aren’t - you aren’t that close to them. You are your own boss and you could close up early whenever you wanted, but you wanted to maintain a routine. 

The clock struck 8 o’clock so you closed the shop and made sure everything was taken care of before you left for the weekend. Slowly you grabbed your phone and looked at it dreadfully. You didn’t want to check your notifications, but never using your phone for the rest of your life was kind of impossible. When you finally unlocked your phone, you saw… nothing. No notification. You felt relieved and slowly made your way upstairs to your apartment, where a hungry cat was already awaiting you. 

While your day was calm, Billy’s wasn’t at all. Fridays were always hectic because everybody was trying to get their work done before the weekend - at least most people he worked with were like that. That meant that the entire day Billy was drowning in a pile of reports and contracts that needed to be checked. Not to mention that two days ago a friend - Dinah Madani - asked him to help her with a case. So basically since he got back to work on Wednesday, he hadn’t had a moment to take a breath. The whole day he was feeling stressed and became angrier and angrier when he discovered that some of the reports had incorrect information or some contracts didn’t have all the signatures they were supposed to have. Amateurs. Billy thought as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. 

He looked at this phone, lying on the desk, and thought that he could use a little break. The first thing he saw was a text message from you. He was excited for a moment - until he saw what you wrote. What? He opened the conversation and his fingers hovered over the keyboard. He ended up writing nothing because he didn’t know what to write back. Instead, he just stared at the four words. When he finally put the phone away to get back to work, he couldn’t. Different reasons why you wouldn’t want him to come popped up in his mind and none of them were good. What if something happened to you? What if you felt sick again? What if you just didn’t want to see him again? But he was going to respect your wishes. Then he came up with a plan to see what was wrong and picked up the phone again.

“Hey, Frankie, uhm, are you free right now?” Billy asked a little timidly, not knowing how to word his question.

“Uh, yeah, what is it, Bill?” 

“I need you to go to Y/N’s flower shop to check on her. For some reason, she doesn’t want me to come and I want to make sure she’s all right.” 

“Wait, hold up. What do you mean she doesn’t want you to come over?” Frank was often Billy’s voice of reason and now it even seemed like he could read his mind. 

“That’s what I don’t know, but she doesn’t want to see me today and as much as I want to go there right now, I can’t. So, will you go over there?” Billy flinched at how desperate and urgent his voice sounded, he was not used to that.

“Sure, why not. Send me the address.” He thanked his friend and quickly typed the address before sending it. He wasn’t completely calm, but he did feel a bit better and went back to work.

He was happy to hear from Frank that you were safe and nice as ever. He smiled at how Frank described your dedication to your job and mentally agreed. Another reason he smiled was that Frank liked you and his opinion mattered to him a lot. They have been through a lot together, seen each other’s ups and downs. They were always looking out for one another and that meant in all aspects of life - romantic included. 

But one thing kept him up at night. If you were all right, why wouldn’t you want him to come over? Maybe it was nothing, maybe you were just as busy as he was. Maybe you had a lot of work to make up for the first three days of the week. But he had been there when you had a hard day and you never sent him on his way. He had a feeling that this was bad. And he didn’t like it one bit. What if you didn’t want to spend time with him anymore? Did he do something that made you change your mind? 

He kept turning in his bed from one position to another. After a day like that, he thought that he would fall asleep as soon as he got into bed, but he couldn’t get you out of his mind. His phone was on his nightstand. Within reach. He contemplated calling you. Then he remembered that it was the middle of the night and he would probably wake you up, you would get angry at him for waking you up and he couldn’t come up with how that scenario would result in a good ending. He thought about sending a text, which he also figured was a bad idea. It was Friday and sending you a text would make it seem that he was getting drunk somewhere and texting you because of the alcohol. Neither of those options would give you the impression that he would like. Somehow, slowly, his eyelids became too heavy and he finally drifted off to sleep. 

When you checked the weather forecast the next morning, you thought about how you were going to spend the day. To be more specific, you were thinking about outdoor ways to spend the day. Most of your week you were stuck inside and you felt more than ready to go out and enjoy some sunlight and fresh air. After a few minutes and consulting with your cat, you decided to go on a hike somewhere outside of New York. 

Quickly you packed a bag with everything you might need. Some snacks, treats for Benjamin, a lot of water, some wet wipes - you never know when you might need those - and some other stuff. When you were satisfied with the contents, you got dressed into some comfortable leggings and t-shirt. You packed a spare t-shirt, in case you got sweaty and a hoodie if it got cold. Lastly, you put on some hiking boots. Only one thing left to do - get Benjamin ready for the adventure. You put the harness and leash on him and topped it off with a treat. 

“Are you ready for adventure, Benji?” You asked in a baby voice. 

“Meow.” 

“Okay, let’s go.” You made sure you had everything, took Benji’s leash, and walked out the door. 

When you stepped outside, you were met with chilly morning air. Taking a deep breath you felt good about your day.

That was until you stood face to face with a certain raven-haired man.

********************

Tags: @1-800-heartbreak @churchb

[longassr1de]

Watch Your Mouth

Pairing: Jaehyun x fem!reader Genre: Smut Word count: 3,165

Summary: In which your smart mouth drives Jaehyun so mad, he can’t even wait to get home.

Warnings: Car sex, bratty reader, dom!Jaehyun tbh, oral, dirty talk/slight degradation if you squint, spanking, orgasm denial, etc. Look, this is just pure, filthy smut. I have no excuses for myself anymore.

A/N: The English version of Highway to Heaven is officially out and I have been losing my mind all damn day thanks to the lyrics. They did give me all sorts of ideas, and seeing as I haven’t written for Jaehyun yet, I decided to dedicate this one to his horny ass. (Loosely based off Taeyong’s infamous “Baby you a bad girl, watch yo mouth” line.)

What has begun as a simple game of cat-and-mouse had turned into so much more, thanks to your smart mouth.

You were out with your boyfriend Jaehyun and his friends, who had all gathered at a local nightclub to celebrate the birthday of their other dear friend, Taeyong. Most brought their own girlfriends along, while others were hoping to score while at the club tonight. What had resulted was a mess of inebriated young adults congregating at a booth while playing truth or dare, with a twist of course. Whoever failed to complete their dare or refused to answer their question had to take a shot of some hard liquor concoction of Yuta’s that you’d rather remained a secret, if you were being honest. It smelled like death and tasted like hellfire, to put it kindly.

The problem wasn’t the drinking at all however, it was the fact that it was so late into the night already and Jaehyun had barely been sparing you a glance. He was too busy catching up with his own friends instead, as it had been awhile since they had been able to all meet up like this. Your usually sweet and attentive boyfriend wasn’t paying attention to you, and you refused to sit there and take that. Sure, you had the other girlfriends to speak with. But you hardly knew each other and only had so much to say after the game died out.

Glancing over at Jaehyun, you notice him laughing so hard at something his friend Johnny had said, but your eyes only hone in on the way his head is thrown back and the way his Adam’s apple bobs before he speaks. Given that you were tipsy at best, as well as needy after a few too many sensual songs danced pressed together on the dancefloor… you decided it was high time to exact your revenge. Keeping your eyes trained on the young men opposite your side of the booth to pretend you were engaged in the conversation, you innocently place your hand on his thigh, leading him into a false sense of security. Jaehyun finally looks over at you after feeling your hand on him, shooting a megawatt smile in your direction, dimples and all.

“Something up, baby? Do you wanna head home?” he questions before leaning over to kiss your cheek.

You shook your head sideways, “I’m good, Jae, but thank you for asking.” And so, he turns his attention back to a story a boy named Mark had been telling this time, while you lean your head on his shoulder and plan your course of action.

Opting for something more subtle, you decide to slide your hand gently across his thigh in an up and down motion, repetitively doing so whilst going further up every time. You’re nearly at his crotch when he clears his throat, playing it off as having choked on the sip of the drink he was taking. Jaehyun shoots a stern glance your way, the slight twitch of his eyebrow signaling for you to stop. Oh, but how could you stop now when this was just getting fun?

Taeyong, the birthday boy himself, starts to give a little speech, albeit slurred, so thank everyone for celebrating with him as well as for the lovely gifts. He goes down a memory lane of adventures with the guys, a wild mess of everyone yelling over one another; if they were loud enough sober, imagine these ten boys gathered in a drunk clump of excitement. Only, you didn’t have to imagine that anymore. This however, is the perfect moment, and you seize the opportunity while everyone’s distracted, even Jaehyun. You laugh along to something one of the guys you recognized as Doyoung had said, playing your part as your hand rubs Jaehyun through his pants. You don’t miss the way he swallows hard at the contact, nor the way his face momentarily falters mid-sentence.

As the conversation takes yet another turn, he turns to you and practically hisses in your ear, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“You told me to have fun tonight, and that’s exactly what I’m doing,” you purse your lips coyly, the picture of arrogance all but painted upon your features at having the upper hand in the situation.

“Play with fire and you might just get burned,” Jaehyun warns you as he places your hand back on his thigh, lightly gripping it before letting go. He’s more tense now, but still manages to let his mind drift back for long enough to say his farewells with three of the boys and their girlfriends who were heading home due to the time. It doesn’t stay for long as it begins to wander at the touch of your hand, palming him under the table until you’re certain he’s hard now. You avoid his scowl with a quick announcement of your intention to get one last drink for the road, and your boyfriend, ever the gentleman, says he’d like to go with you so as to keep you safe.

Once you’re both situated at the bar, he feigns his best smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You both place your orders before he speaks up again, preferring the bartender out of earshot for this conversation. “What did I tell you?” his tone is light but nearly oozing venom, akin a cupcake laced with poisoned frosting.

“But Jae, maybe I like a little fire,” you quipped, running a hand down the front of his shirt, “I mean, you are smoking hot.” You send a flirty wink his way as you graciously accept your drink, thanking the bartender as Jaehyun follows suit.

“You are so paying for this little stunt when we get home, I can’t wait for it,” he takes a sip from his glass of water, eyeing you over the rim of it with an almost predatory look.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Probably push me onto my knees and watch me suck you off, or spank me until I’m sore and crying, maybe even tie me up and blindfold me,” you don’t finish your train of thought when you feel the intense aura that is a riled-up Jaehyun, the sight of his jawline clenching feeling victorious, knowing how deeply your words affected him. His pupils are dilated, and noting how he slams enough cash to cover your drink and then some before storming back to his friends, you know you’re in for it.

Goodbyes are quicker this time around, what with everyone but a straggler or two still trying to find anyone to take home wanting nothing more than to finally get some peace after such a long night. Jaehyun grabs you by the wrist as the two of you exit, dragging you to match his pace as you make your way to the car. You were grateful now that you weren’t relying on a cab tonight, seeing as how Jaehyun barely drank; and even then, it was so many hours ago. The true reason you’re grateful is because this was all part of your plan: to piss Jaehyun off just enough to get him to fuck you in his car.

You wait until he’s unlocked the car before pushing him up against it with your body, pulling on the collar of his shirt as your lips assault his in a bruising kiss, sucking the life out of your unsuspecting boyfriend. Your hands wander down his sides and back up again as you suck small kisses down the side of his neck, popping a button or two off his shirt as you lick at his collarbone. He lets out an audible groan, hands holding your waist with a vice grip. It isn’t until a door slams in the distant while you grind your hips against his that Jaehyun remembers that you’re still in public. And, figuring you two should have some decency, he quickly ushers you into the backseat of the car, his mind too clouded by lust to wait until you’re both back home.

Once you’re both seated and the doors are locked, Jaehyun is relieved to notice how empty and dark the lot is. But even in that brief moment of realization, he can’t escape your incessant teasing.

“Come on Jae, I thought you were gonna punish me? Or are you scared of someone watching?” you run your hand across his waist as you move over to settle into his lap, only to be pushed onto the floor by his much stronger arms. He makes quick work of his shirt, followed by his belt, tugging his trousers downward so that his cock slaps at his toned abdomen.

“Can’t keep sassing me if there’s a dick in your mouth, can you princess? Now suck,” he commands, voice stern as his hands weave into your hair, guiding you right up to his crotch. You open your mouth to say something when he leaps at the chance and bucks his hips forward, the tip of his cock now busying your mouth. You roll your eyes up at his glaring, deciding that maybe blowing him wouldn’t be such a bad punishment anyway. He’s certainly given you much worse ones before, like denying your orgasm to the point you ended up crying.

You barely have to move as Jaehyun ends up fucking up into your mouth, holding your head steady via your hair, sweat beading at his temple as the windows start to fog. He pulls away when his length starts to pulse, a telltale sign that he’s close to his release. Jaehyun drags you back up to sit in his lap, hastily pulling at your dress to bunch up around your torso, freeing your breasts from its confines. His gaze is nearly as rough as his hands manhandling you on all fours in the all but spacious backseat of his car. He spanks your ass so many times you lose count, just knowing that you’ll barely be able to walk tomorrow, and you’ve never been happier to have Sundays off. Neither one of you remembers to care much about all the noise you’re making, though you doubt it really would have mattered in a place like this.

Jaehyun leans forward to slide two fingers into your mouth, a silent warning that sends shivers down your spine, and he can’t help the desperate moan that escapes him when you suck his fingers the same way your mouth had taken his cock earlier. He wastes no further time, sliding a finger through your folds as he deems you certainly wet enough, rutting his hips into your ass before thrusting into your heat all at once. You yell out a muffled cry around his fingers, wobbling forth onto your elbows as you lose the strength in your arms, the air knocked right out from your lungs in one fell movement.

You’re only given that lapse in time to recover any sense of self, as Jaehyun almost immediately begins to pound into you from behind. It’s hard and fast, rather shallow as he’s still so high strung from being terribly close to his orgasm when your pretty lips were encasing his length. Looking down at where the two of you were joined, you clench around his cock, causing him to pull out and grip the tip with the hand that had just been keeping you quiet, trying not to come too quickly.

“You’re so fucking tight, you miss my cock that badly, princess?” he chastises you, getting off on the whine you let out as you sit up, looking for him. Placing your hands on the window, you wiggle your ass playfully, trying to tempt him to return between your legs. “What is it? Use your words.” Jaehyun is smug in both his words and his actions, fully aware of his control over both the situation and your release.

“P-please, your dick,” you groan, frustrated at your lack of coherent thought, licking your lips hungrily when you turn and catch sight of a fucked-out Jaehyun eyeing your body. “Just fuck me, Jaehyun, God!” you beg, uncaring of how pathetic you may have sounded or how much power you placed into his hands. All you really, really wanted was to finally be able to come tonight.

“You’re such a filthy little cockslut for me, you’re even willing to call me your god, hm?” he bites at his lip as he teases the tip of his length through your wetness, making your thighs quake as he outright laughs at your desperation. All at once, he’s gone, and you’re no longer in contact with Jaehyun; and then all at once, you’re filled to the brim, slower but deeper thrusts replacing his previous shallower ones. Your hands slip down the glass pane as he sinks balls deep into your pussy, thick and veiny as he ruts up against you.

Jaehyun pulls you back against him, your back firmly against his taut abdomen, his arms like a boa constrictor around your own as he turns your head to devour your moans. You’re entirely at his mercy in this heated moment, your arms trapped beneath his burly forearms alone. Given the context, Jaehyun’s arms could make you feel like you were in heaven or hell; and right now, you were riding the highway to heaven, milking it for all it was worth.

Your attempts to fuck yourself back onto him are futile as he holds you right where he wants you, your punishment being that your own orgasm is but an afterthought as Jaehyun chases his own relentlessly. As he mouths at your shoulder, small moans slip past his lips, and he pushes you until you’re nearly flat against the seat, a hand in your hair as his pace stutters then slows. Jaehyun is loud when he orgasms, for usually being calm and collected when he’s in charge, the angry sex must really have had him worked up. Silvery ropes of his cum line your walls, seeping out as he withdraws his softening cock, leaving you frustrated as you have yet to find your bliss. Your eyes widen as he quietly tucks himself back into his pants, reaching for his shirt and calmly redressing, as if he hadn’t just left you hanging entirely.

“J…Jaehyun, what the fuck?” your nostrils flare angrily, eyeing him in disbelief.

“I told you to watch your mouth, didn’t I baby? But you wanted to act up, so take your punishment with grace.” The bastard still has the gall to smirk at you as he pats your thigh, reminding you to fix your dress before you rejoin him in the front of the car so that you can head home.

_______________

You’re pissed beyond belief, frustrated at being denied your orgasm, and absolutely fuming at the way Jaehyun was carrying himself with such composure the whole ride home. The entire, tense, dead silent ride home. When the car halts to a stop at its designated parking spot, you reach for the door handle, fully intending to walk away from your annoying boyfriend. A quick slap to your inner thigh jolts you, both further arousing you and further angering you.

As you turn to face him, your eyebrows furrow from pleasure this time, your seething words dying in your throat as Jaehyun shoves three fingers into you, all the while calmly remaining in his seat. He quirks a single, questioning eyebrow at you as he thumbs at your clit, working you into a frenzy as you try to ride his hand the best that you can, given your odd positioning. One of your hands shoots out to grab onto his bicep, feeling every twitch of his arm as it fucks away at your pussy.

“I think I’m gonna…!” A single tear escapes your eyes, followed by another as you’re yet again denied your release, his fingers wiping your own slick against the inside of your thigh, adjusting the hem of your dress as he pushes open his door, Jaehyun opens your own door like the perfect gentleman, amused beyond belief at the childish way you scowl up at him before stomping off into your apartment. Upon arrival, the door slams behind you, and Jaehyun pulls you towards him, almost like you’re sitting in his lap as he leans against the front door.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me now, or do you have any other wiseass comments you’d like to make, princess?” Jaehyun’s gaze bores down at your form as he towers over you, even more so now that you’d removed your heels. You nod furiously, needing more than anything right now to let that coil wound so tightly deep within your belly to finally snap.

“Say the magic words then and it’s all yours.” He peppers kisses across your shoulders as his thumb runs across the swollen pout of your bottom lip.

“Please… please let me come, Jaehyun. I can’t take any more,” you mumble weakly, already shaking in his grasp as his other hand teases at your wetness. Little gasps escape you as he continues to circle your entrance, not yet taking the plunge. Just as you start to complain, a hand comes over your mouth, one of his knees parting your legs wider to allow him to finger you so easily it almost hurt but not quite. Dull pain and heightened pleasure flood your senses as Jaehyun holds you up with his thighs, your heavy breathing and loud, muffled moans indicating all that your body needed to say.

Your eyes roll back in your head as you’re finally, finally allowed your release, climbing higher and higher until you hit your peak, bending forward with a cry, coming so hard you swear you see white for a good minute. Jaehyun pats your hair as you come down from your high, kissing every inch of skin his lips can reach, praising you to high heaven for taking him and your punishment so well.

“Thank God that’s over,” you mutter weakly, limp against his chest that rumbles with laughter.

“About that…” Jaehyun insinuates, grinding the erection he’d been sporting since your last little tryst into the base of your spine. You look up at Jaehyun, neck craned uncomfortably, as you catch onto his implication, comically wide eyes giving up hope on any rest today as the sun shines brightly now through the window.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, babygirl,” he chortles as he lifts you over his shoulder, kicking his shoes off before making his way to the bedroom. His earlier words ringing all too well in your ears as he hungrily kisses you, wrists pinned tight to the mattress.

Had you bothered to watched your mouth, perhaps you would have saved yourself the road trip to hell. Oh, but how the highway to heaven was calling your name, and you had a VIP ticket. After all, the ride named Jaehyun was always so, so pleasant. And you just couldn’t pass that up.

[ranjxtul]

Live Like Tomorrow Doesn’t Exist

Ah here we are, back with regularly scheduled Aragon angst! S/o to @footprintsinthefallingsnow for being a sounding board for ideas on this one, love ya wifey. This piece though, is absolutely dedicated to @the-quiet-winds as a slightly late b-day present! Thank you for being the  Jane to my Aragon and overall such a lovely person! Hope you had the best day, and as always love you so much! Anyway, TW for drugging someone. Enjoy!

Aragon wasn’t much for clubs, she learned that quickly. The noise, thrumming music, and masses of people seldom did anything but make her uncomfortable at best or anxious at the worst. That being said, she could move past the uncomfortableness with a few drinks in her system if the others insisted on dragging her out.

She’d agree to go for Anne’s sake usually. She preferred a quiet bar over a loud club anyday, if she had to go out, but Anne and the others sometimes wanted more. She didn’t exactly have it in her to deny their requests every single time they asked her, so, occasionally, she’d find herself in a club. She spent those nights either dancing with Anne (after a few drinks) or sipping on a drink slowly with Jane back at a table while Cleves and Anne tore up the dance floor.

One particular night, after she’d had an especially good show, she found herself indulging her whims a bit more. She allowed herself to drink a bit more, dance more freely with Anne and succumb to her tipsy state just a bit more. It was nice, just for once. Even if she had a bit of a hangover the next day, she could at least vouch for the fact that she’d let herself have fun.

Anne and Cleves seemed to enjoy this freer Aragon. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to get her to the club and only a bit more to get her to dance. Parr, Jane, and Kitty all sat at a corner table, watching over the other three on the dance floor.

“I’m going to take a break and grab a drink at the bar,” Aragon leaned back a bit more against Anne to get a bit closer to her ear. She hoped she’d been heard over the music.

“M’kay babes,” Anne mumbled, landing a kiss on Aragon’s cheek just before the other woman slid away and out of her grasp. Anne was already a couple drinks in with Aragon not far behind. Truth be told, Aragon didn’t need the extra alcohol, for some reason, she just felt good. She wanted to relish in it though, and indulge herself.

“Can I have a vodka soda?” Catherine ordered, taking a seat at the bar. The man behind the bar gave her a nod and turned to prepare her drink. While she waited, Aragon found herself drumming her manicured nails on the bar, and humming along to whatever song played. The alcohol already running through her veins burned a pleasant warm haze in her mind, as thoughts of the show, Anne, and her family flitted through her head.

“You here alone?” asked a voice, breaking her out of her haze. She glanced over toward the sound with a hum. A tall olive skinned man with dark brown hair and green eyes stood at her side now.

“No, my girlfriend’s back on the dance floor,” she shrugged, an apologetic smile flashing across her face.

His eyes swept quickly over Catherine’s tall frame and gentle curves obvious in her attire, “She’s a lucky woman then. Mind if I sit though?” He asked.

“Not at all,” Aragon shook her head. In retrospect, she should’ve been more cautious of the abundant kindness this stranger showed, but the pleasant buzz in her brain drowned out any voice of caution.

The man took a seat beside her, “I’m Sam Michelson, by the way,” he nodded, flashing a smile her way.

“Catherine Aragon,” Catherine responded just as the bartender brought her new drink over. She murmured a quiet thanks to him before the bartender moved to take Sam’s order.

“Nice to meet you,” he turned back to Catherine as the bartender turned away.

“You too,” she gave a nod as she lifted her drink to take a sip. She let the alcohol run down her throat, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips quietly.

“Oh, I love this song,” Sam commented as the music switched over.

Catherine listened for a moment, attempting to discern what song was playing. After a moment, she figured out it was a remix of a song Anne had shown her before. “It’s a good song, though I don’t really know it. My girlfriend probably does though, she likes this type of music,” she shrugged, thinking of how Anne was probably enjoying herself greatly.

“Not your type of music, eh?” He mused with a raised brow.

“Not particularly. This music’s always a bit too loud and abrasive for me, I suppose.”

“What kind of music do you like then?”

“My favorite artist is Fleetwood Mac, or something in that vein. It’s just really calming,” she explained briefly, raising the glass to her lips again.

“Oh they’re incredible!” Sam nodded enthusiastically. “Saw em’ in concert last time they were in London.”

Catherine opened her mouth to respond, only to turn at a gentle tap on her shoulder. Parr stood beside her, “Hey, I was going to head home with Kat and I know you have the keys in your bag, but I couldn’t find them,” she shrugged, an apologetic look at having interrupted her godmother’s conversation, sitting on her slim features.

Aragon frowned, attempting to remember if she’d put them anywhere else, and ineffectively coming up with no answer. “I’ll look, yeah?” she raised a brow before turning back to Sam. “Excuse me for a moment,” she gave a small smile and set her glass back on the counter before she stood.

“Course’, I’ll make sure no one takes your seat and then we can get back to music,” he nodded.

Catherine made her way back to the booth with Parr and grabbed her bag to search for the car keys.

“Who were you talking to?” Parr inquired as she waited for Aragon to produce the keys.

“Oh, his name’s Sam. He tried to pick me up, but he didn’t push really, when I said I was dating someone. We were just talking about music,” she explained. A non-inebriated Catherine might have picked up on suspicion of the man’s behaviour, but now it flew straight over her head.

“Oh, uh, be careful,” Parr warned tilting her head as she observed Aragon. “He seems okay, just be careful, alright?” she requested biting the edge of her lip.

“I will dear, don’t worry,” Aragon assured with a smile as she handed Catherine the car keys. “Now to turn that back on you, be safe getting home.”

“I didn’t have anything to drink tonight, I should be okay, but noted,” Parr said with a short nod.

“Good.” Once she was satisfied that Parr and Katherine would get home safe, she turned back to head toward the bar. “Sorry about that,” she apologized sitting back down beside Sam.

“It’s all good,” he smiled.

“Now what were we talking about?” she asked picking up her drink once more and raising it to her lips.

About an hour later, Catherine had finished her drink, and she was a fourth of the way through another. She and Sam had continued to talk about music and then as the conversation progressed, it had blurred for Catherine.

The bartender had seemed hesitant about giving her another drink, though she claimed (truthfully) it only would have been her third over a span of a few hours. Her spine it seemed was beginning to weaken, at least that’s how it felt. Her head spun, but a lack of impulse control told her to ignore it and keep drinking and talking to Sam.

“Hey, babe come dance with me!” Anne said, tapping Catherine on the shoulder from behind. “You’ve talked for so long,” she playfully pouted.

Catherine turned her head, only for a dizzying wave of nausea to course through her veins. Perhaps the bartender had been right and she had had too much. “Sure!” she shrugged, the consonants beginning to slur in her speech.

“Ah, you must be the girlfriend,” Sam spoke up, his pleasant tone having dimmed just enough to display an edge of frustration to perhaps a sober onlooker. And at this point, Anne was sober enough to pick up on the edge.

“Yeah, and I’d really like to steal my girl back for a dance,” she said, forcing her voice to stay playful and cheeky. Something immediately seemed off about this guy. While Anne’s original intention had been to simply get Catherine back out for another dance, now a rush of protective energy washed over her.

Before either Catherine or the man could say anything, she gently dragged Catherine from the bar. Unexpectedly, Catherine almost pitched over onto her. “S-sorry,” she slurred. “Musta’ h-had too much t’ drink,” she glanced at Anne.

“How many did you have? Normally this isn’t like you to drink a lot, especially when we do have a show tomorrow,” Anne bit her lip. It  only had been an hour and a half since she’d seen Catherine and for her to have gone from tipsy to slurring drunk, raised some red flags.

“Uh? Three? I think?” Catherine furrowed her brow as she tried to focus on figuring out how much she’d actually had. The more she attempted to focus though, the more her thoughts blurred.

Three, and that was one before she’d left Anne. “Okay, let’s go sit down then. I’m not sure dancing’s a great idea,” she suggested carefully leading Aragon to the booth where Jane sat.

“Everything okay?” the blonde asked. She quickly realized the answer to that when Anne had to help Aragon sit down. “How many drinks have you had, love?” Jane asked glancing at the curly haired woman.

“Three?” Aragon slurred out questioningly as Anne sat beside her. The brunette wrapped an arm around her girlfriend who leaned into the touch, unable to hold herself up anymore.

Jane raised a questioning brow at Anne who could only hope the glance she spared Jane conveyed her worry and confusion. “Can you get her some water and maybe find Anna? It might be best if we head home,” Anne suggested.

“Yeah,” Jane nodded, standing up. First order of business, find Anna. Luckily, the German wasn’t too hard to find. She was dancing toward the outer edge of the cluster of people at this point.

“Anna!” Jane called, attempting to get her attention. “Anna!” she called again, putting a hand on her shoulder. This time, the woman spun around.

“What’s up?!”

“I think we’re going to leave. Catherine’s really drunk, and Anne told me to come find you and get her some water.”

Anna’s gleeful face sobered, “We have a show tomorrow. She’s never drunk on a show night. Is everything okay?” she asked as she started to weave her way out of the crowd, Jane beside her.

“I don’t know. Something was really off, she said she’s only had three drinks, and one of those was about two hours ago. She could barely hold herself up, and she was slurring her words.”

After a moment’s silence from Anna, a flicker of recognition passed through her eyes, “Boleyn said she was sitting at the bar with that guy. Did she leave her drink alone, ever?”

Jane furrowed her brow, “I’m not sure? Why’d you-” she stopped as the implications of Anna’s question hit her. “You don’t think he…?”

“I’d like to hope not, but alcohol does not hit her that heavily,” she said grimly. “If he did though, that son of a bitch doesn’t know what’s coming,” Anna added under her breath.

“Let’s get her that water, then, and try to figure it out?” Jane suggested, leading Anna toward the bar to order a water. She hadn’t been able to discern what exactly the taller woman had mumbled, but she could imagine it wasn’t anything good.

When the pair returned to the table, they sat across from Aragon and Anne. Catherine looked, much to their dismay, worse for wear. Her eyes stared blankly ahead bit dim and unfocused. “Catherine,” Jane started gently. She figured she’d be best at getting her to recount it all, considering how riled up Anna was about the situation, “do you remember if you left your drink alone with the guy you were talking to?”

Anne’s eyes widened in alarm; she processed the questions and its connotations more quickly than Catherine. “You don’t think?” She asked quietly so as not to startle Catherine. It all made sense though, and meant Anne’s intuition had been right.

“With Sam?” Aragon slurred, her brown eyes dimly focusing in an effort to concentrate. “Maybe? I think? Cathy asked to help find the keys and I left it there,” she finally answered, vaguely wondering why Jane had asked.

It all fell into place in the other three queens’ minds. This ‘Sam’ had put something in her drink. It accounted for the overly drunk air and the lethargic behaviour and cognitive processes. They could only imagine what might have happened had Anne not gotten to Catherine sooner.

“I’m going to murder him,” Anne muttered, one fist clenching by her side.

Jane shot her a look, “Now’s not the time we need to-”

Aragon cut her off, “Wait, did he? Did he put something in my drink?” even in her hazy state, she’d managed to put together all the pieces. She tried to sit up from her place leaning against Anne, only to be met with a head splitting wave of nausea. “That’s why you all were asking me if I left it alone.”

Catherine’s mind spun as it tried to fight its way out of the haze, only to be entrapped by another haze of anxiety. The irony of it though,was that her mind could not physically keep up with how quickly her synapses attempted to fire. Intrusive thoughts of what could have  happened fired off at a whirlwind speed, only to be impaired by the effect of drugs in her brain. Thoughts of her own carelessness followed in a disoriented fashion that made her want to scream.

The anxiety only made the nausea worse. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to make it stop, and she clung tightly to Anne again, grounding herself while she could. Fuck. How could she have been that careless and naive? So many things could have happened, and she was playing right into his game the whole time. God, she was stupid. Why hadn’t she questioned it more, or been aware? She was supposed to be aware of things like that.

Amidst the mental fight, she neglected to pay attention to the fact that she was no heaving for breath. “Catherine,” Anne said quietly, hoping to bring her back from the ledge before she could completely spiral. “Catherine,” she said again, pulling the other woman closer into her side. “It’s okay. You’re here.”

“Love, it’s not your fault,” Jane added. She had enough experience with Katherine to know what kind of thoughts could have been running through Aragon’s head in a situation like this. “He was trying to take advantage of you.”

Vaguely, Catherine heard Anne and Jane. In her inebriated state, she focused on them as hard as she could, forcing her eyes open to look at Jane.

“Breathe,” Anna added from beside Jane. “In, out. Then we’ll get you out of here.” As much as she wanted to maim the one responsible for hurting her best friend, Aragon’s safety was the primary concern.

“Like this,” Anne demonstrated, exaggerating her breathing. Aragon closed her eyes again, due to the nausea and still dizzying rate of thoughts. She had to try though, for Anne and the others.

“You can do it,” Jane encouraged as she watched Catherine struggle to heave in a few breaths. “That’s it,” she added after the woman managed a few more breaths.

“I’m sorry,” Aragon heaved out when she had enough air.

“For what?” Anne asked quietly.

“For being s-stupid and playing into his games,” she still slurred.

“Hon, it isn’t your fault, I promise,” Anna said attempting to make eye contact with Aragon.

“But it is. Cathy warned me and told me to be careful but I didn’t. I should know his type but I still let him fool me,” she shook her head, feeling tears start to brim in her eyes. In any other circumstances, she would have pushed them back but now she was so out of it and disgusting feeling, any emotional control she once had, had long since gone out the window.  

“Your inhibitions were lowered, and you were just letting yourself be. Maybe you could have been more cautious, but that gave him no right,” Jane shook her head. Her heart broke to see her friend like this, and now see the tears silently streaming down her face as her chest rose and fell at a still uneven rate.  

“Jane’s right babe… can we try and get you out of here? It might help even if we’re just waiting outside for an Uber,” Anne added, moving one hand to wipe away the falling tears.

Catherine only shrugged numbly. Her heart pounded in her ears at an all too slow rhythm, contrasting how she her breaths came at shallow intervals.

“Anna, can you help me take her weight?” Boleyn asked, raising a brow at the German. Despite a lack of definitive answer, she knew Catherine needed to get out of this situation as soon as possible.

“Of course,” the German nodded, moving to help Anne support Catherine as she ‘stood.’ Jane moved out ahead of the pair to call an Uber. “M’ sorry,” Catherine apologized as they started toward the exit.

“Sh, it’s okay,” Anne reassured her. It absolutely broke her heart to see Catherine drugged out and so clearly in pain both physically and mentally. The woman seldom cried in front of anyone, and the silent tears streaming down her face had attested to the power of the drug and the emotional state of the woman in her grasp.

Luckily, the Uber came quickly so Anne and Anna didn’t have to support Catherine’s weight for too long. The minute Aragon got out of the noise and chaos of the club, something in her haze clicked. A fog of even greater power started to spread through her brain as the others helped her into the car. “Just wanna sleep now,” she mumbled, carelessly wiping at her tears. The tug of the unconscious suddenly overrode every confused and self deprecating thought pacing through her brain.

“You can, I gotcha, babe,” Anne promised softly as she settled into the car beside Catherine. Aragon barely nodded before she let herself succumb to what ultimately was the pull of the drug and lapse into unconsciousness.

“You know,” Anne commented as Catherine’s eyes fell shut, “I’m glad I got to her when I did. I don’t want to imagine what could have happened if I hadn’t,” she shuttered.

“Me neither,” Anna muttered darkly with a shake of her head.

Anne nodded in agreement, glancing at Catherine’s now sleeping form leaned up against her chest. In that moment, she said a silent prayer that Catherine would be okay, and that this drug wouldn’t hurt her in the long term. She also thanked God she’d made it in time, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she begged for the bastard who’d done this to face consequences.

[nifflersfancy]

Runaway Groom - Chapter 4 (Like I Would Grace Your Brothel With My Presence)

Read it here on AO3! 

Here’s Part 3 (Chapter 3 - Speaking of Bastards), Part 2 (Chapter 2 - Listening To Pink Floyd Alone) and Part 1 (Chapter 1 - And I Just Want A Million Pounds)!

“P-Pregnant?” Remus stuttered out. “You can’t be pregnant, we… We used a condom. Every time.”

“Well, you know, contraceptives aren’t always effective.” Tonks responded, seeming far too calm about this.

“How long have you know that you were pregnant?” Sirius questioned with a frown. He knew that Remus had been single at least since he had gotten there so that would make her a few months pregnant. Had this woman known for a while or had she only recently found it?

“No one asked you, pretty boy. Nose out.” Tonks scoffed, rolling her eyes, which was not helping the situation at all. Sirius glared fiercely at her but she didn’t seem bothered. Sirius hardly seemed threatening. He had on one of Remus’ jumpers, which was much too large on him with a pair of shorts.

His left thigh was currently wrapped up in clingfilm looking like a smudge of ink. He had gotten his first tattoo that day with his first weeks paycheck. He had managed to start working at the bar just in time to make the cut for a weeks worth of pay. The pay hadn’t been great but the tips had definitely made up for it.

He had booked in for a tattoo right away and now adored it. It was a large stag in black and white with hazel eyes. It had only felt right that his first tattoo was a dedication to his best mate. James had gotten a smaller one, although it was no less impressive. He had gotten a starry sky with the Sirius constellation on his ribs. Sirius had plans for several more. He already had two appointments booked. One for touch-ups on his stag and then another tattoo booked.

“Prettier than you.” Sirius scoffed, flipping his hair over his shoulder as he pointedly placed his hand on top of Remus’. It didn’t take long for Tonks to notice.

“Wow… Didn’t take you long to move on, Remus.” She pointed out.

“Bitch, you moved on before your relationship was even over. Don’t even try.” Sirius cut in before Remus could, standing up as he spoke to face Tonks properly, instead of looking over his shoulder. He winced slightly as he stood and Remus was at his side immediately, placing a hand on his waist to steady him.

“Alright! That’s enough!” Remus cut in sternly before either of them could say anything else. “Look, Nym, go home. I’ll come over tomorrow and we can sort this out then.”

“No, we need to talk now.” Tonks said sternly but Remus was not so easily swayed. He wasn't just going to let Nym stomp her feet and get what she wants. It had always been what she had done but he had put up with it because he loved her. Well, not anymore.

“No, tomorrow. I need time to think about this and clear my head and just… Process this. I will come over first thing in the morning.”

“Fine. Don’t bring your arm candy though.” Tonks spat, glaring at Sirius. Sirius glared right back, pointedly leaning into Remus’ side.

“Like I would grace your brothel with my presence.” Sirius fired back calmly with a scoff.

“Hey!” Tonks spat, taking a step towards them but Remus put a hand on her shoulder to stop her, tightening his grip on Sirius to hold him back as he felt the other lad move.

“Go, Tonks. Now.” Tonks looked offended, as if she had expected Remus to stand up for her but giving how they had ended, it wasn’t a huge shock.

“Fine. You better come over tomorrow.” She warned. And with that, she left.

---

“Hi....” Remus greeted distractedly as he entered his and Peter’s flat, where all of the others were gathered.

“Remus…” Sirius breathes as he stood up, setting the mug of tea hat he had been drinking on the coffee table and quickly making his way over to Remus. He placed both hands on Remus’ upper arms, looming him in the eyes. “That was not a happy hi. What’s happening?”

“Well, she really is pregnant. I asked her to do a few more tests and they were all positive.” He sighed. He hadn’t slept at all that night and had arrived on Tonks’ doorstep just before 7am, massively sleep deprived, only to find her in the same condition and on her fourth cup of coffee. It was now almost 10:30am and he hadn’t long left her.

“Well, how do you fit into all of this?” James questioned with a frown from where he was sat beside Lily, an arm around her shoulders.

It was still early enough that the others were all dressed in their pyjamas and lounging around watching television, clearly waiting for Remus. Sirius must have filled them all in on what was happening but Remus wasn’t annoyed. It just saved him the trouble of doing it.

“Well, Nym says that she and Fleur want me to be involved but if I’m not comfortable with it, I don’t have to be involved.” He explained. “Basically, it’s totally up to me.”

“She’s so great, I miss her.” Peter tutted, although shrank back when three pairs of eyes turned to glare at him. Remus seemed to hardly be listening to anything that the others said as he stared ahead. Sirius gently led him to sit down on the sofa and then went to the kitchen to make Remus a cup of tea.

“Well, what does she mean by ‘involved’?” Sirius questioned with a frown as he sat beside Remus, passing him a mug of tea, glad that they had previously made a pot of it so that he wouldn’t have to wait for the kettle to boil.

“I mean, presumably, the biggest part of your job is done.” James pointed out with a scoff and a slight nod. Remus absentmindedly nodded as Sirius gently rubbed his back, nudging his hand gently so that Remus numbly took a sip of the tea.

“Anyway.. They want me to go down to this sonogram thing with them tomorrow.” Remus sighed, shaking his head slightly. He couldn’t believe how much his life had changed in just 24 hours. He was going to be a father now whether he liked it or not.

“So what are you gonna do?” Lily questioned with a frown, curled up into James’ side, a cup of tea warming up her hands.

“I have no idea.” Remus sighed slowly. “No matter what I do, though, I’m still gonna be a father.” Sirius frowned and leaned into his side, still gently rubbing his arm in a comforting manner.

“Whatever happens, you know that we’ll all be here for you, alright?” James spoke, reaching over and patting Remus’ knee. “ Whether you want to be involved or you don’t. We’re with you every step of the way.”

---

“When did life get so complicated?” Remus sighed, looking up at the sky, watching a plane flying overhead.

“Got me.” Sirius muttered, bringing a mug to his lips and taking a sip of his tea as he followed Remus’ gaze and watched the plane. His eyes then drifted over to Remus and he watched him for a moment, taking in how gorgeous he looked in the moonlight and the glow from the orange fairy lights that had been put up at Christmas and then never taken down. He then set his mug down and laid down beside Remus.

“Didn’t you just think that you were gonna meet someone, fall in love, and that’d be it?” Remus questioned sadly. The two of them were sat of the roof of their flat building, drinking cups of tea from a large flask that James had brought them up before he had gone to bed about twenty minutes beforehand. The five of them had originally been out there together but the others had left not long ago. Now it was just the two of them.

“Sirius?” Remus questioned when the other lad didn’t answer him. Sirius snapped out of his daydream and flushed, realising that he had been staring at Remus. The two of them were now laid side by side on top of one of the picnic benches up there.

“Yes, yes.” Sirius said in a rush, looking away and up at the sky as he felt Remus move his head to look at him. Remus merely sighed again and shifted so that he was on his side, his head resting on Sirius’ shoulder.

“I never thought I’d be here.” Remus mumbled with a frown. He had truly thought that Tonks was the one - it had been a shock enough when she had cheated on him but now that she was pregnant with his baby. The whole thing was a mess.

“Me either.” Sirius breathed, although he meant it in a completely different way to Remus.

“I suppose things could be worse, right? I still have Pete.. And James and Lily. And now I have you as well.” Remus hummed, gently nudging Sirius and flashing him a gentle smile. Sirius couldn’t help grinning softly back, reaching up and gently tracing Remus’ jawline, his touch barely there.

“Sirius… About what you were saying yesterday…” Remus breathed, shifting slightly and slowly moving closer.

“Yes?” Sirius internally cursed himself for sounding so eager and breathless. But none of that mattered when the moment was interrupted.

“Come on, you two!” James’ voice called out, causing both of them to jump and quickly move apart. Thankfully, it appeared James didn’t see and if he did, he didn’t comment on it. “It’s freezing out here and you both need your sleep!”

---

“Didn’t I tell you not to bring your stupid arm candy?” Tonks scoffed as soon as Remus and Sirius entered the hospital room. She was already wearing a hospital gown and laid down on an uncomfortable half chair, half bed, Fleur by her side, holding her hand with her feet in some strange clamps that would make things easier for the doctor to see everything and make both Remus and Sirius uncomfortable.

“Technically, you told me not to bring him to yours yesterday, which I didn’t.” Remus pointed out calmly as he approached them, making sure to move a certain way so that he didn’t see the parts of Tonks that weren’t covered by a blanket.

“Calm down, tricheur. I’m here for Remus, not you.” Sirius added, rolling his eyes.

“We can get you kicked out of here, branleurs..” Fleur warned, being the only one that understood what Sirius had said. Sirius made a big show of looking Fleur up and down with a look of distaste on his face. Remus had never seen him look such a way but was mildly impressed by it.

“And Remus could get you kicked out as well, toi petite chienne. He is the father.” Sirius responded, without missing a beat. “Vous êtes juste l'autre femme.”

“Alright, enough. Sirius is here to support me. If you don’t like it then I can leave as well.” Remus said sternly, before Fleur could retaliate. He didn’t know what Sirius had just said but judging by Fleur’s furious reaction, it hadn’t been very friendly

“No. No… You can stay. Both of you.” Tonks huffed reluctantly.

“Thank you.” Remus murmured gently and genuinely to her, placing a hand on her shoulder as the doctor entered the room.

“Hello, how are we today? Any nausea?” The friendly looking woman questioned.

“A little.”

“Yes.”

“A little, yeah.”

“Well, I was just wondering about the mother-to-be but, uh… Thanks for sharing.” She said hesitantly before placing a hand on Tonks’ shoulder and gently nudging her. “Lie back, get comfortable.” She did as she was told and Fleur tightened her hold on her girlfriend's hand.

“You know what? I, uh… I don’t know if I can do this.” Remus mumbled, having been watching the couple. He had no feelings for Tonks anymore but the whole situation was just messed up. “I’ll call you later, alright? Sirius, can we…” He began but trailed off as he heard a loud noise coming from the machine that was by Tonks.

He looked over at Sirius, tears already beginning to form in his eyes. He watched Sirius take Tonks’ other hand and then reach out a hand to Remus, which the taller lad quickly took as he moved back over to them as the four of them huddled together, looking at the screen.

“Oh my God.” Remus choked out tearfully.

“Look at that.” Sirius said breathlessly with a slightly watery chuckle.

“I know.” Tonks sobbed softly. They all stood there, all holding each other as they watched the wavy image on the screen, listening to the strong heartbeat together.

--------------------------------

Translations

"Tricheur" - "Cheater" "Branleurs." - "Wankers." "Toi petite chienne." - "You little bitch." "Vous êtes juste l'autre femme." - "You are just the other woman."

I don't speak French but I used google translate. If any of these are wrong, let me know! And if you spot any mistakes in general, let me know but don't be an arse about it because I will cry. Aaaaas usual, this has not been checked or edited because I'm lazy and wrote this within a few hours. Let me know what you think!

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