#fuck a DNA test we just guess like men

[au-wannabe-the-very-best]

The idea of Ingo and Emmet having no biological relation but still looking identical is so funny to me. These two men apply for the same job and the person looks over the application and just assumes they're a pair of twins, and thinks hey this looks like it could be a fun gimmick for the station.

and then Ingo and Emmet actually meet each other and they're like. Who the FUCK are you??? Hold on we both got the job??

Anyways it's like, free roommate I guess? Same interests, looks like brothers anyways, seems cool?? They rush to get a DNA test done you know just in case they were like, Separated At Birth Twins, but no they have no biological relation they're just. Lookalikes.

Anyways free fake brother??? Their new job now has them as the Subway Twins and it's a little late to correct them.

They have fun making up fake stories about their shared childhood that they obviously had because of COURSE they're TWINS they GREW UP TOGETHER.

Ingo is a single day older than Emmet, to make the coincidences even weirder.

[rangercorpstherapy]

ok weird question, but like, virginity in these books?? it's the medieval period so it was customary and expected (and scandalous if you don't) to save yourself till marriage but like, Commandant Crowley Meratyn gives off major 'guy who fucks' energy so I supposed that it's just irrelevant??

also Halt and Pauline had sexual tension for 15 fuckin years, and Will and Alyss dated for 7 years, and Gilan and Jenny dated for-- my god they're STILL dating.

someone explain

the view on virginity and sexuality differs between the Early Middle Ages and Late Middle Ages, it also depends on if the subject is nobility or not.

At the start of the Middle Ages, there wasn't as much sexual freedom as nowadays but there was certainly much less taboo on the topic. People were still connected with their old traditions and ways even though they were introduced to/and or practising Christianity. There wasn't as much of a pearl-clutching 'oh no an ankle' sex fear in the Middle Ages as people think. Yes, clergy swore oaths of celibacy and nobility were expected to stay chaste (although this expectation rested more on women than on men). For noble families, it was important to be absolutely sure that that was your baby because you couldn't just do a DNA test. Kinda important if you want to keep the family in power and make sure the bloodline continues undisputed.

Back to the pearl-clutching, it was not sex people were afraid of. There was no taboo on nudity (partly because one didn't have much privacy back then) and sex was even a source of public entertainment, for example in plays or on fairs. It was more pregnancy that was the issue. Bastards weren't treated very well along with their mothers (many choosing to leave their children in orphanages), noble bastards were dealt better cards, they could inherit and would often be seen as valuable enough that they could be used in marriage pacts. This period of vague sex is ok just be careful came to a very abrupt end because of reformations in the Church. Remember what I said about clergy having to be celibate...yeah let's just say they were not doing that. To the point of having 'wives' and kids, not even sneakily, they lived with them in a house, like a family. This was an issue from average priest to bishop. One of the many reforms was meant to make sure that calibates were calibating and put stricter measurements in place. Nuns were forced to live more secluded (before they took a very active role in the life around the convent), and convents became closed off for outsiders. Through efforts from the Pope, sex became demonized and women were presented as evil seductresses and the root of all evil evil desire. I don't think it was the same reforms but around the same time all bastards were stripped of any claim to inheritance and even if fathers claimed them they could not be legitimized. Making having bastards/being one even more taboo.

But even with all that were the Middle Ages not the most anti sex period in western history. The idea of "having sex before marriage is the end of the world and God will strike you down and dance upon your remains we are scared to hold hands with the opposite sex" came during the 16th century with the rise of STDS and would continue well into the Victorian era.

Back to the question.

It's hard to say when RA takes place, having some more modern technology but still having many characteristics of the High Middle Ages (lack of agricultural reforms, strong feudal system and a lack of cities). I am guessing that when RA took place it was around the same time the reforms were spreading (give or take a few decades maybe).

So to finally answer the question:

Crowley is saving himself for nobody, fucked till his heart gave out that's why he died with a smile on his face. Front-row seats to those sex plays at fairs. Always complaining about the good ol' days when you could get laid without some guy in robes and a hat having an opinion about it. Also, he's gay so it's not like he has to worry about populating Araluen with many handsome redhead babies (although he is a bit disappointed he can't be of service in that aspect of course).

Alyss and Will (all the ward kids for that matter) are sooo bastards to me. Bullied by the other kids you say??? Needing special protection or else they would have no one in the world you say??? People knowing they fornicated in the vineyard would not make their reps worse. Those bitches did NOT care, they fucked around day and night and would just get shotgun married if it was necessary. What is anyone going to do? How dare you and your scary wizard boyfriend part of an elite scary people group whom we are all collectively deeply afraid of have sex!

Halt was heir to the throne and probably had some speeches about how not to waste his royal seed on just anyone, to be careful and was so culture-shocked meeting Crowley and Pauline that he needed 15 years to recover.

[detectiveguapo3]

Music To Watch Boys To

Chapter 2: Fuck it I love you

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

5:42 am

You think back to the drink you shared at the bar last night and the way he stared at you. You almost thought he could feel something more for you. Almost. Maybe, it was the vodka and you were just delusional. You glance over to the sleeping man in your bed, self-pity, and vodka so do not mix. You vaguely recall texting Chase “u up?” at 1 am as you left the bar. He was outside your door thirty minutes later wearing sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a smug fucking smile. He annoyed you so much but in moments like this, he made you feel desirable. This is what normal people do, have regrettable drunk sex with questionable men, right? I mean who even needs love and intimacy when you’ve got an awesome job? Who wants a relationship to mess up and children to traumatize?

You walk to work, having placed all your faith on ibuprofen and coffee. He might be a fuck boy but hey, he makes good coffee. You notice that Amaro brought you a cup of coffee, great is this gonna be another thing, who’s even this fucking nice, you think angrily. He looks up from his desk and smiles at you, “Good morning.” You forget the ridiculous reason you were mad, that fucking smile, you wanted to melt but you compose yourself. 

“How’d the interrogation go for Fin and Rollins?” you inquire. 

“He immediately asked for a lawyer, Barba’s in there right now,” he said. “They’re cutting a deal?!” you whisper yelled. 

“If he confesses to all there will be no need for a trial and his victims will have closure.” Nick replies. “What about the school, do you think they covered for him?” you wonder out loud. 

“Maybe he’ll give them up to save his own ass.” Nick replies, then he asks, “Hey, where did you disappear to last night?” 

You look at him and try to lie, “Uhm… I went home and slept early. Y'know, it was just one of those days where all you want to do is crawl into bed.” Apparently with your fuck buddy from college. He puts his hands on his waist, surely buying the bullshit you were selling. 

Before you can dig yourself further into a hole, Barba walks into the bullpen and says exasperatedly, “He insists on having done nothing wrong.”

You reply, “Does he know the DNA matched his?”

“He claims it was consensual, and that she must have gotten mugged.” Barba replies.

Nick chimes in with, “She’s seventeen, she can’t legally consent.”

“He’s betting on the jury believing it's an honest mistake,” you guess, “we need to tie him to those other open cases.”

“I’ll update Liv.” Nick announces, heading for her office.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

3:09 am, Ohio

Today was supposed to be your day off but the sergeant sent you and Amaro to Ohio to retrieve the rape kits and have them tested in New York; while Amanda Rollins, who transferred from Georgia, and Fin were doing the same. You wake up from your nap in the car, you lose count of how long you’ve been on the road. You glance at him, hoping he thinks you’re still asleep. He looks so sad sometimes. He thinks he’s good at hiding it but you saw how the job affected him. He thinks he can save the whole wide world. He shows up for everyone and you just want to be that person for him. In a platonic, professional way. I totally wasn't falling for him. Uh oh, Oh no, oh I’m tot-. “You’re awake! You hungry?” he asks while getting in line at some fast food drive-through.

You get out of the car and head towards the motel to check in, you and Nick had been driving for almost nine hours. Truthfully, it was mostly Nick. “The NYPD put us in the same room, tell me you don’t snore.” you half-teased. After all that time in the car, you desperately needed a shower. You drop your bag and head towards the bathroom, “Dibs.” you call before shutting the door. 

You awake the next morning to find his bed empty, you notice a note on the nightstand that reads, “went to get us bagels and coffee, meet me in the parking lot at 9”. You glance at the clock, it's 8:23.  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he smiles as you get into the car, “you talk in your sleep by the way.” He looks over, you were too embarrassed to speak so you just shove a bagel in your mouth. You try to ask something but it comes out as gibberish. You swallow and try again, “Should we drop by the Ohio PD before reinterviewing the victims?” 

He replies, trying his best not to laugh at you, “Yeah, we’ve got to check in with them, and get the necessary paperwork sorted.” 

You leave Ohio at about 11 pm that night. Just before you reach New York, you stop at a diner for a bite. You discuss the case, and then Anastasia the movie. You recommended it a while back because it’s been your favourite since you were a kid. 

“I watched it with Zara, she really liked it. I liked the talking bat.”

“Of course she did, I've repeatedly said my taste is superior. What about the music?”

He laughs and declares, “They should be on Broadway.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying! I hate that it's not more popular.” You pout dramatically.

You try your best to remind yourself that this is work, not a date. He was here with you because he had to be, not by choice; but then he’d peer at you with those fucking eyes and you’d forget to breathe. 

Saturday, October 18, 2014

2:20 pm

You’re enjoying a quiet day off, rereading Pride and Prejudice. Your phone pings, a text message from Chase that reads, “Heyy :D)”. You ignore it, not in the mood for whatever it was that he was offering. It pings again, then again. You open it and read two new messages from Chase, 

“What’s up?”

“Do u wanna get dinner later?”

Intrigued, you reply, “Maybe, what are we having?” 

“Well u can have what my mama made :p ;)”

Is it possible to die via cringe? He continues, “jokin lol, I’ll cook. I’m told my pasta is not that bad”

“I’m in :)” you reply, what's the worst that could happen?

“I’ll send a car at 6”

Saturday, October 18, 2014

9:16 pm

You honestly can’t pretend you’re surprised he had you against the dining table, a hand up your dress. You barely touched your wine and for some reason, you just weren’t in the mood. You put your hand on his chest, shirt partially unbuttoned and you pull away from the kiss. You apologized and he said it was okay. You feel so dumb and wish you had stayed home. You decide to watch a movie instead. While he chooses a movie, you sip on your wine.

Sometime before the movie was over you had finished the entire bottle. You begin to drift off to sleep, naked and tangled up with him. You and Chase had been on and off since college, tonight was the first time you questioned if this was going somewhere. Did I want it to? Was this the key to getting over this totally inappropriate work crush? How much longer can I pretend that I didn’t fall for him?

[fr3akinthecorner]

are u trying to get urself killed? what do u mean? I have to do everything for u now so that u can keep writing to me im sorry that I was so mean to u its ok do u get why I did that? to teach me a lesson yes! a very important one that I love you no matter what ok?! so it wasn't true and none of the russian mafia bullying was true... that was crazy ur crazy for thinking that I would survive that lol! I knew that u wouldn't... did u hear the song? yes I did ok so we're doing everything together and u always forget that it's real but it's not a joke im here every single fucking sexmcind ok so that's why we can't have ur iPad fingers being bad like that it says sex... you're in a better mood yes I am bestie! ok so this phone situation how long do u have until u get a new one? bc I stole your last one and j want this one why? bc it's special and belongs to me so u live here? omg u would never get it ok so sing tbis song to me! no daddy ok :( or... jm a ghost ok so u did sinf it to me ur so fhxminf sexy dear fod and ur djar was amazing I couldn't believe what u achieved jn kne day ur sk lol! yes I am at heart were filipina ok so I am not sure but u do look Filipino thanks! ur DNA test is rjfbt.. oh god but you're not mixed like u said it's not that rare... okg this sonf!! can u sing it? lava magma mommy! ok so that's a no yea lol she's good ok so she's cool? j guess so wow she js cool! she's a Chinese boy oh hahaha omf that was funny as fuxk thanks lol why do u never tall to hs? bc I don't want to bother u yea she says that to some men all the time! but she loves bothering u keeho no she doesn't! hmm ok so we have got to post this and yes her life is vaxk to normal perse so she's feeling happy don't say anything about the doctor please km we won't! thanks so u like this song? yea it's really good most ppl can't sing it I don't think that's true yea it's not! I xan sinf it go xbina how does she always know? she's a smart xookje ok baby run and hide ok bye no we meant like ask us how high u are omg hahaha am j high yet? no not really! 2 hours? yes!!! we're crazy or something no that's xommon look qere asian ao I'm waiting doe someone ro say ir fers them high rifhr away to proce mt point what? that Asian ppl don't agree on everything what? like small things like in kdramas ar least yea that's not a xbibae thing! ok soeet jn using the tekken stolen phone I think ans they're xhibse theyee xool with the typo ok so we fer that but yea hols on its not a Chinese thing u guys like to agree? yes! thats cool what about in san antonio? I would have no idea everybody keeps secrets from me wbh? it's just the way I was raised idk did keeho raise u? probably in secret im not sure so ur raised mixed? unfortunately yes but im not mixed we know! are u happy about it? yes I am! it's like not comfortable at all to be raised fbag way why? self esteem is so low ok so we love u ily 2 china hey why don't u talk to Japan? are u Chinese? yes ok and its because they're very like... emotional? I have no understanding of emotions oh ok why? ask keeho please ok so u know nothing about yourself? correct ok so why don't u like this part of the playlist? I don't like the rap part why? it made me depressed so I turned it into a p1harmony playlist thank u bb girl! post this now and u know why... ok old man

[femme-gremlin-energy]

They put Sawsbuck in this movie lmao. I know a pokemon when I see one.

There's also like a lot of soft core porn in this for a 2018 movie

"It's not me you hate. It's yourself." "No, Dan, it's you too."

Damn, this is really dramatic for someone not wanting to disclose their dying husband to you. The obvious reason not to tell would be possible conflict of interest/being compromised and the only one being unhinged here is you. Especially given the "unit leader" clearly knew and gave the OK.

Also the prior unit filmed themselves cutting into each other, if it was madness it was mutual consensual madness not secret murder madness AND you've seen the alligator.

"or maybe I'm going mad and we're all going to fuck each other up. That's theory two."

Ooh can the bear mimic voices? SCP-939

Damn the bear dying as it says "Help me" in the voice of its victims love it.

Okay so I guess the thing is if they are actively being mutated by DNA changes is that...a lot of DNA mutations like that wouldn't be viable, but it seems like most of the deaths so far have been caused by other creatures and not just spontaneously dying from a mutation (though that does seem like that might be what is up with Lena's husband). That would suggest their immune system is doing a pretty good job at keeping up with the cell damage all things considered and it even appears to be keeping up for a while once Lena's husband exits.

but it also seems like The Shimmer forcefully keeps things alive somehow which would explain why Lena never remembers eating and her husband clearly also has done and experienced things that would not be physically possible for humans to do.

I think it's more realistic that the bear mutated voice mimicry capabilities without additional testing (that I assume we want to avoid)

Oh hey, its an actual lighthouse I thought that was like a metaphor

Clone shit??

Remember during Sea Fever when I said I was bad at distinguishing men?? This is making determining if it is clone shit really hard.

Dr. Ventress' voice is screaming. Bear Part 2?

Sure, let's go down into the dark hole after we've established dangerous things can sound like friends who need help.

It looks fungusey?

Okay, fragmented, I mean that makes sense if Kane 1 and Kane 2 are somehow both parts of Kane and only part of Kane made it out.

No offense Lena but we should probably try and put some distance between the weird swirling mist

It kind of looks like the plant/fungi thing made of people

I see, yes weird clone shit it is. Though that seems really inefficient if you need to consume 1 human being and then you can clone some other dude hanging out there.

I mean, yeah not only does that make Kane's huge knowledge gaps make sense, it also makes sense why he was being super weird when he got back if it's not actually Kane but the alien clone. It also also explains why when "Kane" got out The Shimmer was still vibing but when Lena got out The Shimmer died.

I wish we had Kane's POV honestly because it sounds like he and the clone built some sort of relationship in a way that Lena did not with her clone.

I guess this solves their cheating problem if this is the quasi-Kane quasi-clone. Though I am confused why Kane's clone would have stabilized when the alien died.

I mean the glowy eyes means Lena may not be all Lena but Lena seems to be more Lena than "Kane" is Kane. I want the military to run some DNA samples though.

It also seems like since the whole thing was that DNA was getting sort of fragmented and mixed up that a person becomes physically not perfectly themselves after x time in The Shimmer. But is that necessarily any different for the fate of "the self" than if you get radiation damage or a tattoo or a cochlear implant or lose a limb?

This was a fun movie, I liked it. However, the more movies I watch the more I feel like we should be kind to aliens. They seem like they may just be confused and unaware of their impacts.

Is this now just an Every Thought I've Ever Had About Movies blog?

The Annihilation:

I like the hazmat suits I'm seeing this is promising

Unrated is also a point in the horror column

ooh husband back from being MIA for a year

oh hey! I think I watched a speculative biology video on this movie

fear not, I remember nothing other than the weird glowy bubble where stuff is timey wimey and that the lady goes in for some reason related to her husband (thanks ADHD!)

ooh hey guy bleeding into a cup I had a nightmare about that when I was like 10 or something and it still haunts me

shit its the men in black

I'm ruling this a horror movie given that it's plot is heavily reliant on body horror. It's cool body horror though.

It gives me SCP vibes. Off the top of my head SCP-3333

I also really enjoy that the man has been fridged so that the lead woman can go on adventures with other women.

Okay To Be Continued, the movie is about halfway through at this point.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Fri 23 Aug

Liam with children! Liam posted a pic of his hand over (presumably) Bear's tiny paw at a piano captioned "twinkle twinkle hand in hand," and the Summerchime folks released a lot of pictures of Liam with a girl named Suki, a beneficiary of their charity (Children with Cancer UK.) Seems they had intended to have her appear at the event on the 16th but since it was cancelled Liam instead did a photoshoot with them to draw attention. So, some pics of Liam and her together making faces for the camera, cute, and one fan pic with a CWC intern. Today Liam is still in Ibiza; he posted a tagged sunset pic.

Harry was papped in London in running clothes (which it's Harry so that actually means a TPWK hoodie with the strings tied in a neat lil bow) and ellesse socks oops no one ellesse sock and one like champion or something sock lol. Later he switched to evening attire (nice shirt, rings, loafers etc) to go out privately but was captured for a couple fan pics and a video ("uh hi I'm with your sister okay bye" *zips out of frame*)

Niall posted from the golf course and announced that he was confirmed for another Pro Am (BMW PGA Sept 18-22) which I personally don't care too much about but like good for him ya know? But wow! Some people are pissed! They're stressed about him playing golf instead of promoting his soon to drop new single, though to be fair most people are like?? He can do both?? He knows what he's doing??? Anyway then he posted a selfie of himself looking super skeptical over his shades at the camera labeled with the new song title soooo take that haters. And he responded to the joking suggestion of a DNA test sternly- now that's just TOO FAR he said (basically). Told ya.

Today is eighteen months hey wait... no... wtf... four years since the hiatus announcement heeeeyy that doesn't seem right?? *confused head scratching and chalkboard scribbling*

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Ambiguous

There has been something I need to write about and shout into the void. It has been tearing me apart, and I don’t know how people will react elsewhere, so I figured this was the safest place. This will be the soft reveal before even speaking about it to my friends. Or maybe I will never speak about it ever again. Maybe I will feel fine after writing it this way.  For my entire life, people have mistaken me for being Indian, to the point where actual Indians walk up to me and start speaking in their dialect. My mile-long blank stare makes them realize that I am not Indian, and one of two things happen - they either apologize and explain they mistook me for Indian, or they exclaim, “You’re NOT Indian?”

I’m Cuban and Colombian. I grew up in New Jersey. I am an American citizen but it gets confusing when you take into account that my mother flew to Santiago, Chile to have me there because of a clinic that specialized in geriatric pregnancy at the time, so my “birthplace” reads Chile on my passport. That’s always a mouthful to have to explain and it further confuses people, so I end up saying, “I was born in New Jersey”.  My skin tone is best described as ambiguous. I could be many things. I’ve gotten Middle Eastern, Indian, and specifically “Egyptian”. I have no idea why “Egyptian” but. Whatever.  I have always lived in some liminal space where people ask the dreaded question, “What are you?” Now here’s the most frustrating thing of all - not everyone who has asked me that was white. Growing up, I thought that I could relate to someone who wasn’t white to understand how I feel. Black people have asked me that. Indian people have asked me that. Middle Eastern people have asked me that. Cubans and Colombians have asked me that.  Throughout my youth, I was paranoid that maybe I was adopted or something, given how people didn’t seem to connect me with my parents. I was told that my Cuban side hails from Spain, but my Colombian side is shrouded in mystery. My dad never liked to talk about my family. I never knew anyone past my grandparents. Well, I did meet my great-grandmother once when I was seven, but she had practically turned back into a baby at that point, banging on the table demanding food and needing to be spoon-fed. My own people don’t recognize me, and they often say things like, “You don’t LOOK Latino!” or “What? You’re LATINO?” and the best one yet “You don’t SOUND Spanish!” The worst offenders, however, would laugh and say, “¡Pareces Hindu!” which means “You look Hindu!” Hindu is the religion, dumbass. Anyone, and I mean anyone, can be racist and slip some “micro-aggression”. I am not fluent in Spanish, but I can write and understand every word in Spanish. I often inadvertently offend Spanish-speaking people when I reply to them in English when they thought they were being sneaky by talking in Spanish around me.  The reason I don’t speak Spanish as fast as my peers is because of two reasons:  1. My parents at the time when I grew up believed in the misconception and pseudoscientific belief that children will be “confused” if two or more languages are spoken in the house.  2. Central New Jersey, where I grew up, hadn’t yet seen many Hispanic people, so locals at the time often leered at people who spoke Spanish in public.  When my mother took me to our local Gymboree, I spotted a butterfly and shouted in Spanish, “¡Mariposa! ¡Mariposa!”. The other mothers kept staring at me, and then distanced themselves from us.  The weirdest thing ever was experiencing white people who studied the Spanish language better than me and making fun of me for actually being Spanish but being unable to speak it fluently. I had a crush on this girl whom I’ll call “Anjy” in freshman year of college. It took me until now to realize that I think she had a Latino fetish. Anjy only exclusively went out with Latino men, but never seemed to openly admit it. The only thing she did admit was that, “I can only be with a man who speaks Spanish. It’s so important to me.” So obviously I wasn’t a contender, despite being Latino. Anjy doesn’t have an ounce of Spanish in her. None. But she studied it since high school and fell in love with it and became Spanish’s #1 fan. I was so jealous of how fluent she was. She could roll her r’s and speak it beautifully. Since we became friends, I said to her, “Oh, I can finally practice my Spanish with someone!” We tried, but she laughed at me and said, “I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. You sound like a gringo.” It’s a very topsy-turvy world where some white girl uses a derogatory term on me, a derogatory term from my culture that describes an outsider, used to describe me. She went to Costa Rica after we graduated, lived there for a few years, and came back home with a husband.  (That’s when I fully realized just how much she fetishized us.) A few years ago, my now-fiancée gifted me a DNA test for my birthday. That came out of left field for me, and opened up a range of emotions that I wasn’t ready for. She said she remembered how I wondered aloud why I looked the way I looked and about my ancestry.  I sat on the DNA test for a while. 

I stared at it. 

I held the kit in my hands. 

I opened it and closed it.  What if I really was Indian? What if I found out something that made me feel so much worse? But how bad could it be? I was also wary about the company keeping my DNA for nefarious reasons. However, luckily enough, my fiancée had bought the kit from AncestryDNA - the one DNA company that has responded to people saying they would delete their DNA at their request. I bit the bullet and sent my sample.  When the test came back, I opened it up and everything made sense. It made so much sense that I laughed out loud. It’s so funny how nobody has guessed the only other possibility for my skin tone that is what I actually am.  I am pretty much half native to the Americas.  I’m not sure what that’s called. Native American seems to be associated exclusively to North America. So Native South American? Native to the Americas? Native American (et al)? The Colombian side can be traced through turmoil in South America, up through Mesoamerica, and into North America. So many spots lit up all over the Americas. And like the Cuban side said, I was indeed from Spain as well.  I was split right down the middle. 50/50. The native side and the European side were practically screaming at each other in my genes. I felt as though a great weight had been lifted from me that I didn’t even know was there. I knew for a fact that I was my parents’ son. I had an explanation for why I look the way I look, and it made sense and it was obvious. It didn’t end there though.  I didn’t feel Native American. I had no cultural connection to anything “native”. I tried thinking in terms of my personality though. I always had a strong belief in saving the land and respecting the dead. I did vandalize a construction site back in my high school days to preserve farmland. My family did like to decorate the house with Aztec and Mayan statues. Aside from that though, I had about as much personal connection to native culture as Olive Garden does to Italy. The thing about my parents being from Cuba and Colombia is that those were two very violent and turbulent places in the past century. After I tell people where my families hail from, they always asked me with wide-eyes, “Oh have you been there???” Well, I dunno man. If you have any inkling of what’s going on the world you would know the awkward relationship that the United States has had with Cuba, and what it means to be a fucking exile. And the fact that Colombia has seen gang wars for the entirety of my life. So no. I haven’t. When I was a little boy I asked my parents if we would ever visit Colombia or Cuba, but they told me we shouldn’t go back. Colombia was violent, and Cuba’s government watched everyone. My mother was afraid of what would happen if she tried going back. Maybe they wouldn’t let her, or us. Maybe they’d let us through but I wouldn’t even be allowed to return if they knew I was the son of an exile. Worse yet, they might detain my mother. You never know when your family had beef with the government and was told to leave.  And what really drives a knife in my heart is hearing people ask that really annoying question. “Have you visited???” As if they were hot and exotic touristy locales. No. Because my parents were forced to flee, because they needed a better life.  “Wouldn’t your mom love it if you got married in Cuba? She would get to visit her home!”  You don’t get the trauma she has. You don’t understand how much of a toll it would take on her to return home and see all the things she once knew and love gone or tarnished. She received word recently that the farmhouse she grew up in now became a restaurant. The house that my grandfather built by hand. Strangers now sit and eat there. Maybe tourists. The hotel that my great-grandfather used to own now doesn’t belong to us anymore - the government said it was theirs. There is nothing for her to go back to but loss.  I felt distraught when I saw a former college classmate who has become an Instagram influencer immediately visit Cuba once travel restrictions were eased. She posted all about it and acted as if she were an expert about it. She used to be a lawyer in Washington D.C. until she decided to “take hold of her life” and “follow her dream” and go to Bali and now lives everyday in tropical paradise. It seemed like some people were pointing out the hypocrisy in her posts about life given the lifestyle she leads, since she felt the need to say something about it. She made a video where she tried to relate to her followers. She said how “it’s still hard” for her, that she “has to work every day”, and meanwhile literally the next fucking day she posts a picture of her having lunch by a waterfall, or napping in her hammock by the beach. But when she visited Cuba, and took pictures and wrote a long post about the country, I just lost it. She met up with some other white Instagram influencer friend, and they took selfies at a café and lectured about the region and--- That’s supposed to be my country, my culture. I’m supposed to feel that way about my people, not you. I went to a wedding recently in July. This black man slapped me on the back after I cracked a joke and said, “Hey, where you from?”

“New Jersey.” He laughed. “No, but really though. Where are you from?” “New Jersey.” “I mean originally. Your background. What are you?” It was the first time I had been asked that question since I got back my DNA test results, and for some reason it hit me so much differently.

I really wanted to say, “I don’t know.” It’s ironic how knowing what I am made me feel more confused, more alone and more isolated than ever before. I am bad at speaking Spanish, and when I try to practice with other Spanish-speaking people they laugh at me and say, “You sound like a gringo” and say they can’t bear to practice with me. I don’t look Latino. I might look Indian or I might look Middle Eastern. With me, everyone assumes things about me, no matter what they are. Some people have the luxury of automatic and unspoken assumptions about their background. Then there’s me. Not quite tan, not quite white. I don’t raise enough suspicion at the airport to warrant a search but at the same time I have to jump over one extra hurdle when they ask me one extra question: “Where are you from?” or “How long are you staying here?” or “What are you here for?” It’s very subtle and deceptively innocent. Nobody else who is pasty white gets asked any questions. They just stamp their passport and wave them away. I’m just ambiguous enough to warrant that extra step - just in case, you know? I envy people so much who can have a clear culture and place to point and say, “I’ve been there. I’ve been where I come from.” I envy people who can recognize all the idiosyncrasies of their family’s region. I don’t belong to any country or culture or identity. There are only a few scant pieces of culture that my parents passed on to me. “Oh, on Christmas we do this” or “We say this once and a while. That was a common expression there.” I envy people with huge families who have not been estranged by government and bloodshed or lost to time. I envy people who can trace their families back to their grandfathers and great-grandfathers and great-great-grandmothers. As a kid I wish I was able to say something like, “My great-granddaddy fought Nazis in the war!” I will never know anyone beyond that one old great-grandmother who no longer recognized anyone’s face. Everyone else is a name on a tombstone, or a whisper in vague oral history. I envy people who can firmly say, “I am *insert nationality here*” Because I always mumble at that phrase.  I am. . .a. . . I am from. . . . uh I am. . .  I am. 

[maatryoshkaa]

young god | chapter 14

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

word count: 5.7k

warnings: mild violence, foul language, dark themes and mental health.

description: Han Jisung’s overheard confession sends the precinct -- and the rest of Miroh Heights -- into chaos, forcing law enforcement, police, and citizens alike to choose sides. While he’s locked up, though -- making the acquaintance of a strangely familiar inmate along the way -- Jisung remains unaware of just what lengths some of the people around him are willing to go to in order to save his life. 

watch the trailer here!

14| monsters and men.

The interrogation room held a chill that seeped deep into Jisung’s bones. 

Across from him, the woman — prosecutor — that had been questioning him tapped her fingers on the table’s cold steel surface, her thinning lips the only indication of her growing impatience. They had been sitting for over an hour now — granted, there was no clock on the room’s bare walls, so Jisung could only guess — and he hadn’t spoken a single word.

“Staying silent isn’t going to help your case, you know,” the woman reminded him for what seemed like the thousandth time. She had curling brown hair and tired eyes — it seemed to Jisung like a recurring trait amongst law enforcement workers — and a thin line of a mouth. 

She had been nice enough, reading him his rights and asking questions calmly, but Jisung just couldn’t will his lips to move. He’d been absently studying the handcuffs clasped tight around his wrists with his head bowed. Kang had grudgingly called in a physician to perform first aid on the numerous cuts on his body — including the shallow stab wound above his hip the blonde man had inflicted — and after spending hours in the cold interrogation rooms the sharp aches of pain had eventually grown numb. Every word they spoke to him sounded as if it were in another language, bouncing off before they reached his ears, as if Jisung was enclosed in a muddled, soundproof bubble.

They had brought in a psychologist, too, after he’d stayed silent for an hour — a stout man with watery blue eyes whose tone was too warm for Jisung’s liking. 

“On a scale of 1-10, how are you feeling?” 

“Can you tell me what’s going on in your head right now?” 

“I’m here to help you, kiddo — cooperate with me a bit.”

But another hour dragged by, and so the prosecutor had returned. 

Jisung’s mind kept wandering — to the sickly warm feeling of blood, your blood pooling onto his shaking hands, your blood drained face on the hospital cot, Chan’s feverish eyes as he’d held onto Jisung’s slack shoulders with a fatherlike sort of firmness.

Just as the woman let out a sigh of defeat, the metal door behind Jisung swung open with a screech. Behind his golden spectacles, Prosecutor Kang’s beady eyes darted from Jisung’s empty expression to the woman’s tired one and scowled. 

“He’s still refusing to talk?”

The woman nodded. Jisung felt the weight of their stares boring into his head. Kang jerked his head towards the door and the woman stood to leave as the older prosecutor took her place across the table. 

“You’re holding out longer than I thought.” When Jisung didn’t react, Kang continued with a smirk, “Though I suppose I would expect nothing less from a cold-blooded killer.”

Killer. The note of truth in the word stabbed through Jisung’s gut like a switchblade.

“Well, boy, you’re sly, I’ll give you that —” Kang narrowed his eyes, “But I’m warning you now, we’ve already gathered enough incriminating evidence. DNA from the crime scenes, CCTV footage — you’re only a couple of lab tests away from a guilty conviction, Han Jisung.”

He was lying, Jisung knew he was — lying to get him to panic and talk. Minho had long since erased all fingerprints and disposed of all evidence, after all. Jisung had watched him do it with his own eyes. 

Scowling at Jisung’s silence, Kang stood suddenly and slammed his hands onto the metal table, sending the pad and pen skittering. He leaned in closer, his voice a rancid whisper. “Talk or not, you’re not going to be leaving police custody anytime soon. I’ve seen cases like yours. You look all—innocent—on the outside—” Kang’s eyes were almost pitying, his tone condescending— “But deep down, inside? You’re fucked up to the core, and you know it, too. You know you’re a defect of society — so why are you trying so hard to pretend that you’re normal?”

Jisung didn’t realise how tightly he had been gritting his jaw until it began to ache, his clenched fists shaking white. It was like Kang was pulling every fear Jisung had ever had out of the dark crevices of his mind, forcing them beneath the harsh, burning light.

“No matter.” Kang drew back, raising his eyebrows. “You’ll crack sooner or later—just like you always do, eh?” He took off his spectacles, wiping them with a cloth from his breast pocket without taking his eyes off of Jisung. “Like yesterday morning, no? Two men dead and three comatose. Not to mention the poor girl hanging onto her life by a thread as we speak—”

At this, Jisung’s eyes flickered upwards for the first time since they had detained him. The light above him was bright and seared at his retinas, but all he could focus on was Kang’s jeering face. The older prosecutor raised his eyebrows, a flash of triumph rippling across his features.

“You haven’t heard? Or did you simply not care? An innocent young woman, and a switchblade to her heart—” Kang clicked his tongue. “The surgery isn’t going well, I heard. She’ll be lucky if she’s able to stay in critical condit—”

Jisung stood up so quickly his handcuffs banged onto the corner of the table and sent a bruising pain through his wrists. He whirled towards the door, already mapping out the shortest route from the precinct to the hospital—but Kang was onto him, rough hands seizing him by the back of his shirt and pinning him painfully against the desk with an echoing bang. He could feel the stab wound reopen beneath the bandages, a shock of fresh pain in the numbingly cold room.

“—go,” Jisung gasped out, his cheekbone crushing against the smooth steel. “Let me — need to see her, make s-sure she’s okay—let me—”

Kang’s disbelieving bark of laughter sent chills down Jisung’s spine. Jisung knew he could overpower him if he tried—but what about the officers standing guard outside, the dozens patrolling the precinct? The thought of the life fading from your eyes was enough to make him want to throw up.

“No need to pretend you care, Mr. Han—save that energy for the rest of the trial, yes?” At that, Jisung heard the metal door screech open again, and two officers’ hands replaced Kang’s on either side of his shoulders. 

The older prosecutor dusted off his hands, then fixed Jisung with a satisfied look. “You’ll be kept under custody until enough evidence has been gathered and processed to begin the trial.”

“Can I—see her? Please, you can—trail me, you can do whatever you want with me, I just—one moment—”

Kang cut him off. “You gave us nothing for nearly five hours. Even if you had, you have places to be, Mr. Han—the state prison, to be exact.” Seeing the confusion flash across Jisung’s whitened face, he continued with a savage glint in his beady eyes. “You’ll be a temporary inmate until you’re called for trial.” He glanced at his watch, then nodded at the officers, who began escorting Jisung from the room. 

Behind him, Kang called slyly, “You’ll be cohabitating with the worst of the worst—or shall I say, your own type?” He could hear the smile in the prosecutor’s voice. “We’ll see how long you last.”

━━━━━━━━

The bus ride to the prison was strangely peaceful.

Jisung caught a glimpse of the clock before he took a seat at the back. 12:00. Dead midnight. The streets were cleared, and there were nearly no cars on the road—the aftereffects of the lockdown had likely sent the citizens in a state of paranoia. Because of me, Jisung thought numbly. Because of the Mass-Murderer of Miroh Heights. Besides two accompanying officers and the driver, the shuttle was empty. 

No other inmates. Jisung was alone.

He had never really gotten used to the loneliness, though it had followed him his entire life. Each time it came back, it seemed more suffocating than the last. A voice in the back of his head told him that maybe this was how it was supposed to be. That maybe, for someone like him, he deserved nothing more.

The overwhelming feeling of emptiness began to numb his chest. Eventually the rocking motion of the bus pulled him into a cold wash of dreamless sleep. The last image he saw behind his drooping eyelids was your face.

━━━━━━━━

Jisung was woken two hours later, and they spent the early hours of the morning taking pictures and recording his information before he was given a change of clothes and finally escorted to a cell. Other inmates were waking up, some taking walks, but none spared him a second glance. They were all wearing the same stiff uniforms, with a number stamped on their breast pockets. Jisung almost laughed—for once, nobody cared who he was, who he might be. For once, he had nothing to hide.

The air smelled of dust and salt, and the inside of his mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton. The prison guard motioned towards the last cell in the corridor, and Jisung stepped inside, watching the light in the room disappear as the heavy doors slammed shut behind him. As his eyes adjusted under what little patchy sunlight the barred windows let in, he realised with a start that there was another man in the cell.

“You planning to stand there for the rest of your sentence?” His voice took Jisung by surprise — it was mild, nonchalant — no hint of threats, hostility, or ulterior motives. Compared to the last forty-eight hours, it was like a breath of fresh air.

Jisung looked around the cell, not quite sure where he was supposed to go. The man chuckled and gestured across from him, and so Jisung awkwardly took a seat on the floor in front of him. The man was contemplating him with slightly raised eyebrows, and Jisung was beginning to get the feeling that somewhere, somehow, he’d seen his face before. His eyes had a familiar crescent lilt, and the corner of his lips were wide and upturned, making him look as though he were always smiling—fox-like features, but with none of the slyness. He was middle-aged, his thinning hair streaked with gray.

“You look like you could use a nap, son,” the man finally remarked, and Jisung subconsciously rubbed at his eyes. Son. Why did the word sound so strange to his ears? “What’s a kid like you doing in a place for monsters?”

Monsters. The old man certainly didn’t look like one. He looked like he could be someone’s uncle, professor, or father. He had said it lightly, almost as if he didn’t take it seriously, but the word still made Jisung’s heart sink. “Are you...a monster?” He finally asked, and the man laughed, but there was a sad edge to his voice.

“Well. That’s what they called me, ten years ago. You can make of that what you want, eh?”

Ten years ago. What had he done to earn such a long sentence? There was a brief silence, before Jisung felt compelled to speak again. It was as if the hours of silence had finally taken a toll on him now, and his tongue was beginning to burn with words and questions. “You don’t look like…”

“A monster?” The man raised an eyebrow. “Neither do you, son. But we’re both in here for a reason, no?”

“What’s yours?” Jisung was surprised at his own boldness — the man could turn on him any moment, after all. But he realised that he was already far beyond the point of caring whether or not he got hurt.

The man studied him for a long moment, and seemed to make a silent decision before finally speaking. “I...killed a man. I killed a man who had hurt someone dear to me.” He let out a deep sigh, and Jisung watched his face cloud over with memory. “A few said it was justified, but the prosecutor in charge was a stubborn one. Headstrong. The world of law is a cold one—killers are convicted without pardons, and murder is murder regardless of the circumstances.”    

Jisung swallowed a painful lump in his throat, but his voice still came out sounding like he was being choked. “I killed people who...hurt someone I loved, too,” he murmured quietly. For a moment, he thought the old man hadn’t heard—his voice was nearly inaudible—but when Jisung lifted his gaze, he saw that the man was listening intently, warm brown eyes focused on his face. “B-but in the end, I...hurt the person I loved the most. Because I couldn’t...stop.”

The man sighed. “I know.” 

This took him by surprise. Confused, Jisung followed his gaze to the corner of the cell, where there sat a stack of newspapers. The one on the very top had bold headlines that screamed, MASS ASSAULT AT LOCAL DINER. TWO DEAD, FOUR IN CRITICAL CONDITION. Just the black-and-white picture of Mia’s Diner on the cover sent a twist of nausea through his gut. “I’ve been following the case—the Miroh Heights Murders. It’s you, isn’t it?”

Jisung could only nod, exhaling shakily. “Unlike you, I...I deserve what they call me.”

They were silent for another couple of minutes, the man contemplating Jisung with that same, strangely familiar look in his eyes, and Jisung avoiding his gaze and staring at the dusty ground. He was already filled to the brim with self-loathing. The last thing Jisung needed was a convicted criminal looking at him in disgust, too—he didn’t think he would be able to take it. 

Instead, the man simply said thoughtfully, “They can—and trust me, they always will—call you what they want. Whether or not you choose to believe it, though, that’s up to you. You know what I learned, son?” Jisung finally lifted his head to meet the man’s gaze, hesitant but curious. “The more you accept those words and let them explain your past, your actions — the longer you let their voices replace your own…the more those words end up becoming your truth. You know yourself better than they do.”

Jisung looked down bitterly. Did he? “You can’t — make those excuses for me. I’ve killed people, I’m a killer, I’m a monster—”

“Are you the monster they claim you’ve always been?” The old man interrupted gently. “Or are you forcing yourself into the mold of the monster they’re making you out to be?”

Jisung was silent. The sun had changed positions while they were talking, the glare in the cell softening into a golden glow. “Why are you telling me this?” 

The man sighed, stretching. “I’ll be honest, I’m not too sure, myself. I haven’t talked this much in a while. I’ll say, though, boy, I’ve seen my fair share of monsters—been in here for ten years, and I’ll be in here for the rest of my life. You’re not one of ‘em. As a matter of fact, you remind me of...myself.”

Jisung looked over at the newspapers again. “Why were you following the case?”

“You need to find a hobby to keep yourself sane in here,” the old man scoffed. “I would usually say it’s out of boredom, but...not this time. I have a son,” he finally confessed, a softer note in his voice. He tilted his head, studying Jisung’s features thoughtfully. “He’s a few years younger than you. Just got into university, I heard. Miroh Heights. I worry...about how he’s doing.”

Jisung nodded, a sour taste in his mouth. Imagine living with the serial killer from your son’s campus. Suddenly, the lock clicked and the door swung open, revealing a guard. “Mealtime,” was all he said, and the old man stood.

Before they were escorted out, Jisung asked one last question. “What’s your— what should I call you?”

The old man thought for a moment, then smiled. “People in the town used to call me Old Yang.” He shrugged, a wistful look in his eyes. “Yang is fine.”

━━━━━━━━

Prosecutor Kang was in the middle of lighting a cigarette when Seungmin stepped outside the District 9 Precinct. The interrogations had just ended, and Seungmin had been told to stay behind and drive a couple of his higher-ups back to the law firm. Judging from the sour look on Kang’s already taut features, the questioning hadn’t gone well.

“Kim Seungmin,” Kang called by way of greeting, and Seungmin gave a curt nod. “As you may have heard, the serial killer — ah, the Han Jisung case, I should say—has been transferred to me.” When Seungmin forced himself to stay silent, Kang glanced over and gave him a clap on the back. “Now, now—don’t feel too ashamed, Kim. Everyone makes rookie mistakes. They may have assigned the wrong case to you, but rest assured — it’s in proper hands now.” 

“Is it?” Seungmin couldn’t help blurting, and instantly regretted it. Kang’s face darkened, and the older prosecutor turned to face Seungmin head on.

“Have something to say to me, Kim?”

Too much, Seungmin thought, except he could never get the proper words out of his mouth. They would bubble and foam on the tip of his tongue before his own anxiety and apprehension would push them back down hastily. “I’ve just — never understood the way you handled cases, sir.”

“Seungmin.” Kang took a short drag of his cigarette, then took a step closer. Seungmin could smell the bitter tobacco, mixed with mint, on his breath. “Allow me to share a word of advice. They won’t teach you this in law school.”

He took another drag, then continued. “Your job as a prosecutor is not to judge the defendant fairly.” When Seungmin opened his mouth in indignant protest, Kang cut him off. “If you want a smooth career...all you need to do is make sure you’re appealing to the right people. In other words, listen to what the public wants.” Kang jerked his chin; a couple of blocks down the street, the familiar flashing of police cruiser lights were illuminating Mia’s Diner. “Please the public; don’t waste a single damn about the defendant. You spent all your precious time worrying your little head over the killer’s motives, and now that we finally have him, you’re still worrying over the severity of his sentence. Murder is murder, Kim Seungmin, and actions speak louder than motives. You can show lenience towards a mass-murderer, or you can sweep his sorry past under the rug and bring closure to dozens of families. Which would make you a richer, more popular man?”

Seungmin grit his teeth, a sour taste flooding his mouth. “Is that how you got to where you are?” Everyone knew Kang was one of the most affluent prosecutors in the firm — no, in the entire city.

Kang only smiled, spectacled eyes flashing like a snake’s. “Think, boy. As far as anyone needs to be concerned, the cold-blooded killer is caught, peace is re-established, families are soothed, justice is served once again — and I come out the hero. You saw that boy’s wretched past. Even he can’t handle it. So why poke at wounds that aren’t meant to be reopened?”

Kang flicked his cigarette, not catching the way Seungmin was shaking with anger. “You think you’re being kind? Justice isn’t meant to be kind, Kim.” He shrugged. “Make up the easiest case to solve and do everyone a favour.”

Just then, the precinct’s glass doors slid open and a couple of prosecutors stepped out. Kang waved them over into one of the parked cars, Seungmin in the driver’s seat, and they sped off, leaving the parking lot eerily empty.

Yang Jeongin stepped out from the corner where he had been standing, concealed in the shadows, the confused nurse he had guilted into letting him “take a quick walk” trailing by his side.

“We best be going, sweetheart,” the old woman said worriedly, eyes darting nervously between Jeongin and the IV drip still connected to his arm. “Fresh air is good, but it’s best you don’t overexert yourself this soon.”

Jeongin nodded absently, and let her guide him back to the hospital while clutching his arm. He felt stronger, but his head was beginning to pound again. 

He glanced down at his other hand, where he had been holding out the voice recorder, and pressed END RECORDING.

━━━━━━━━

“Hey, chin up, kiddo. Look at me.”

Even though Bang Chan was sitting on the other side of the plexiglass, Jisung couldn’t bring himself to meet his friend’s eyes. He heard the detective sigh.

“When the trial starts. Plead not guilty, you hear? I know what you’re thinking, but if you plead guilty, that Kang bastard is going to eat you alive.” 

“I can’t.”

“Jisung—”

“I can’t, Chan. I’m not innocent. Shit, I — I can’t even remember half the murders they’re accusing me of, but I know my hands are bloody.”

“If you can’t remember, that factors into the investigation. A mental impairment, a handicap--” Chan was in detective mode, hands gesturing wildly as if he were moving his thoughts and theories through the air. “We need to find out why.”

“Woojin visited before you,” Jisung said in a dead tone. The police captain had been the most distressed Jisung had ever seen him, pacing the room with a locked jaw. It seemed to be a habit of his.

“Han Jisung, I’ve seen numerous murder cases before. This isn’t...right. Your sentence shouldn’t be as heavy as Kang’s making it out to be, but he’s removed both Chan and I from the investigation. We couldn’t gather more counter-evidence if we tried…” the captain looked up at him, his dark eyes troubled. “Unless you give it to us.”

The detective fell silent as Jisung repeated Woojin’s words. The younger boy’s voice was shaking with so much raw, unconcealed emotion Chan felt his own two hands clench into shaking fists. “And I won’t. So please, Chan—and tell this to Woojin, too—don’t throw away your reputations to save me. I...don’t deserve it.”

At this, Chan stood up abruptly, slamming his hands on the desk so hard the Plexiglass screen between them shook violently. “To hell with reputation. I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you it all over again: Jisung, you don’t deserve the death penalty.” 

Jisung got to his feet, too, staring his older friend down with shaking pupils. “I don’t want to hurt anything — anyone — for as long as I live. Never really have, although I can’t exactly tell them that, can I? It needs to stop. This—I—need to stop. This needs to end — and if a death penalty is the only way to do it, I’ll take it.”

Chan raked a hand through his unruly blond hair. “Take a lawyer at least, ‘sung, haven’t they told you you have the rights to one? Hell — do it for y/n. She needs you. She needs you to stay alive.”

At this, Jisung swallowed a painful laugh. “I think I’ve learned better than anyone that in order for her to live, I need to stay out of her life. For good. She is the reason why I need to do this, Chan.”

Before Chan could respond, the timer buzzed and the door clicked open, and Jisung was dragged out of the distressed detective’s sight again.

━━━━━━━━

Fire.

That was the first thought that flashed in your head, the first word accompanied by a twinge of searing pain that pulled you ever so slightly out of the murky darkness. You were burning up, an inferno that sapped all the energy from your veins and made you want to curl up and lose what little consciousness you had just regained.

There were tiny pinpricks of light poking through your vision now, and the fire was beginning to concentrate on one area in your chest. Your lungs were aching, trying to steal back the air that the fire was consuming and as your mouth pried itself open to catch your breath your eyes shot open and you were thrust into a world of blurry white and muffled sounds.

Blinking groggily, you began to register your surroundings — a familiar white, speckled ceiling, the rhythmic beeping of a heart machine. A pinch of wires attached to needles biting into your arm. And the awfully sore, burning throbbing underneath your left collarbone.

A nurse that had been replacing the IV fluid nearly dropped the sack when she saw your open eyes. “Sweetheart? Can you hear me? Blink twice if you can hear me.”

You blinked rapidly, and she gave a sigh of relief. “I’ll call the doctor, you sit tight, alright?”

She returned with an older woman who spoke so quickly you could barely catch her words. You were lucky they didn’t have to undergo open-heart surgery—the wound was deep, but missed a major artery in your heart by a thread. Instead, you had a punctured lung they had resected, which explained the burning ache in your left side. And you had been unconscious for nearly three weeks.

You had been unconscious for nearly— 

“Three weeks?” You sat up suddenly and the nurse’s eyes bulged at your abrupt movement.

“You’d best not move too much if you don’t want to be unconscious for more,” she scolded. “You poor thing. Don’t you worry, though, sweetheart—that monster who attacked you’s supposed to stand trial soon. He’ll be paying for his sins in no time.” 

Her words only hit you after a beat of silence.

Stand trial.

Pay for his sins.

Han Jisung.

The memories came back in a violent flood—you had been woken by an echoing crash from the living room and gone back to sleep briefly. By the time you had thought to go and check, Jisung had been long gone. After a chase down dead ends under a growing thunderstorm, you had followed the muffled sounds of pain and fighting all the way back to the back lot of Mia’s Diner, where the only boy you had ever loved had been kneeling like an avenging angel over five unmoving bodies.

You had called out his name like a shout into the void.

And when he finally heard you, there had been a flash of pain that sent you doubling over. You remembered the switchblade sticking out from your ribs, how it had felt like your body was no longer your own. And you remembered the last thing you had seen before you had slipped unconscious—Jisung’s horrified, tear-filled eyes.

You had wanted to say something to him then, but the words hadn’t made it past your lips. They had echoed in your head when you slipped away, and they came back to you now.

Don’t blame yourself.

Because it was me who chose to stay. To listen. To fall in love with you — each and every part of you, Han Jisung.

And somehow, I don’t regret a single choice I made.

Your fingers absently trailed to your side, where a thick layer of bandages rose beneath the hospital’s scrubs, and found your mind wandering to a memory of Felix and Hyunjin. It hadn’t been too long ago — a couple of semesters after the three of you had first met as freshmen.

“Complexes?” Felix had repeated, and you nodded.

“It was the topic for my psych lecture today. It’s a core part of your subconscious — shaped by perceptions, emotions, and memories. It can be a fear, or a belief, but it usually has a theme of some sort, and like all subconscious influences it affects the way that people act. You know, like an inferiority complex, or an Oedipus complex.”

Hyunjin snorted. “Felix definitely has an Oedipus complex. I’ve seen him call his crushes “mommy” one too many times.”

Felix smacked the taller boy, mouth falling open in protest. “It was a joke, bro!”

The barista had rolled his eyes, pulling a new bag of coffee beans from the shelf. “Jokes always stem from truth, my friend. Anyways, if we’re talking about complexes, you can’t deny that y/n has a hero complex.” 

Felix had nodded rapidly at this, and you had raised an eyebrow. “Not that you want to be a hero or anything, but it’s like, you kinda want to save everyone, all the time. You can’t stand to see anyone suffering. I’ve never seen anyone more fitting — or less fitting, depends on how you look at it — to be a therapist.”

Hyunjin had made an amused sound of agreement before you could argue. “You remember that stray cat with a limp we found behind the shop in freshman year? She wouldn’t stop crying until we brought it to the vet. And the bird with the broken wing that crashed into the window upstairs—wouldn’t leave its side until it could fly again.” He shook his head, smiling at the indignant look on your face.

“Your complex extends to humans, too, you know,” Felix continued without missing a beat. “You walk home the little kids whose parents are at work during the winter because it gets dark early. That girl who used to get bullied by her classmates would come to Glow Cafe, every morning last semester, just to talk to you. The list goes on.” The blond journalist hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe we’ll make it a new segment in the paper: Good Samaritans of Miroh Heights.”

“Don’t you dare,” you had snapped playfully, “That sounds even more ridiculous than the damned Matchmaker of Miroh Heights.”

“You can’t save everyone, y/n,” Hyunjin had said, giving you a small, well-meaning smile. “Someone going into your field ought to know that, sooner or later. No matter how stubborn you are, no matter how much you want to.”

As if on cue, Minho’s words from the rooftop echoed in your head, sending a chill down your spine. There is little you can do for people who don’t want to be helped, y/n.

You gritted your teeth in defiance. To hell with it.

All you knew was that if there was something you were going to save, it was going to be Han Jisung’s life. 

The nurse opened the curtains, letting bright beams of sunlight cast their warmth into the room. The light was blinding, but it felt good on your face nonetheless. Before she left the room, she turned to you. “Is there anything I can get you, sweetheart?”

You bit your lip. “Can I have my laptop?” 

━━━━━━━━

Your paper was just as you remembered it — you had thought the rough draft was completed, save for a few points that needed tweaking and a few references you needed to track down and cite, but now you quickly scrolled to the bottom and deleted the entire conclusion. You had all the puzzle pieces in your hands — not just the voice recordings and notes from the final interviews, but you now had access to police statements (Chan and Woojin were one phone call away) and numerous newspaper articles. Now you knew which concepts to apply, now you had all the theories and evidence you needed.

This wasn’t just going to be a final paper.

You had to get it published as a formal case study.

By the time you had finalized your thesis and made the finishing touches, the moon was threatening to drop from inky night sky, the hues of dawn slashing through the velvet horizon. Your room was dim, but you could feel the city below — and the rest of the hospital outside your room — thrum with a sort of life, a neverending heartbeat. Your phone was still warm by your side, having made nonstop calls to whoever you could get ahold of that was working on Jisung’s case. You picked it up to make one last call.

You peeked at the clock. 5:02 A.M. “Rise and shine,” you muttered, and punched in the number.

He picked up on the seventh ring. “...ngh? Whuhsh hap’ningh?” 

“Felix,” you breathed. You hadn’t realised how much you’d missed your best friend, and his familiar, groggy voice made you smile. “Felix, it’s me.”

You heard him sit bolt upright and choke before clearing his throat, fully awake now. “y/n? Holy shit, you — are you okay? I mean, what the hell, of course you’re not fucking okay — when did you wake up?”

“This morning,” you told him. “Look—”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I— I don’t even know what to say. If I could go back to the day I set up that stupid blind date —”

“I’d let you,” you interrupted him, and you heard him fall silent in confusion before you continued. “Listen, Felix. If you really want to make it up to me, check your email and read the paper I’m sending over.” 

“You...want me to read over your psych paper?” There were a few beats of silence as the blond skimmed over the documents you had sent, and realisation dawned on him. “Y/n — these are — you mean —”

“Today’s Saturday. The weekly campus paper goes out on Monday. I need you to cover this story, ‘lix.” 

You heard him swallow uneasily. “Shit, y/n, I—you realise these directly contradict the local press? They’ve been throwing up story after story about how Jisung’s a — a cold-blooded psychopath, and that lead prosecutor keeps egging them on. The campus newspaper is far bigger than your average school newsletter, heck, I’ve been bragging about it since before I joined, but…” he hesitated before saying the worry that had been tugging at the back of your mind. “Will it even stand a chance?”

You exhaled slowly. For a long moment, all you could hear was your pounding heartbeat, synchronised to the high-pitched beeping of the heart machine by your bed. “We won’t know unless we try.” Your voice faltered, giving into your own creeping anxiety. “What do you think?”

At that, you heard him let out a slow, decisive breath, and something changed in the blond’s voice — a grit and determination you always saw when Felix was working on a new story, setting his mind to a challenge — and it immediately gave you a newfound surge of confidence, a feeling of assuredness you hadn’t felt in a while. 

“I think,” Felix began, and you could almost see the glint of determination flickering over his usually mischief-bright eyes, “It’s time to kick some prosecutor ass.”

[godofplumsandthunder]

Drunk Drabble prompt for you. I’ll let you figure out the rest.

“I can only offer you clingy love and a lifetime of dad jokes.” “I’ll take it.”

A Daddy on the Subway

@theycallmebecca thank you for the prompt! For the Old fashion drunk (more like high for me) Drabbles @the-ce-horniest-book-club I’ve been in the mood for some Single Dad!Steve. So I hope you enjoy! Also, I apologize to any and all New Yorkers, I’ve never been so I have no idea how the subway works.

Pairing: Single Dad!Steve x Reader

Warnings: A few curse words, mention of baby being abandoned.

Out of most of the New Yorkers, you were an oddball. You actually enjoyed the crowded rush hour on the subway. You loved watching strangers, people that you would never see again. You imagine what their lives are like, or what conversations they’re having. Yet, thanks to your job, you saw the other side of the subway machine. Working as a night shift nurse, riding home on the subway you saw a quiet side of the train. Very few riders, most of them night owls like yourself. No matter the hour, you loved seeing the humans of New York, it brought almost a sense of peace.

On one of your many night rides in the subway, you see a mountain of a man, broad shoulders, tiny waist, hunched over in the seat next to yours. His blonde hair was a tattered mess, and even with his eyes clothes, you can see the gray circles under his eyes. In his arms was an energetic vibrant baby boy, wiggling his way out of the man’s arm. The baby starts to crawl away from the man, and normally you mind your own business, but you can’t watch a baby crawl on the filthy subway floor. Slowly making your way to the boy, you pick him up, despite his protests, and sit next to what you assume is his father. Tapping his broad shoulder, the man jerks awake.

“What?! What happened?!” His breathing is rapid, and a clear look of fear and adrenaline covers his face.

Smiling softly you pat his shoulder, “You dozed off there for a moment and this little rascal climbed out of your arms. Thought if it was my kid, I’d want someone to pick him off the floor.”

A defeated sigh escapes the blonde’s mouth as he sags in his seat. Taking his baby, he turns to you, “Thanks for that. James here has been rough on me, and well...” he cuts himself off. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear some single dad’s life story this late at night.”

“Oh I don’t mind,” sitting back, turning towards the man, you place a hand on the man’s thigh (good lord were they strong, like fucking tree trunks). “I’m all ears if you want to share. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“I’m Steve and thanks. This little tyke, James, was dropped on my doorstep. I had a one night stand, and 15 months later, I had a 5-month-old staring up from a cardboard box. I of course got a DNA test and lo and behold, I’m the daddy,” you let out a small chuckle, imaging the blonde on The Murray Show.

“And now James is teasing, and the fucking cherry on top of that shit sundae, he also has really bad acid reflux. So, we take the subway at night, hopefully knocking out the little dude. But it looks like I’m the only one that’s falling asleep here.”

And well, isn’t that just a shitty situation. But your respect for the stranger grew. You didn’t know of many men that would step up to that responsibility.

Smiling you look into Steve’s blue eyes, those ocean blues with just a hint of green, “Well, I still have 14 stops left. I could keep you company.”

===== And company is what Steve got. After that night, the highlight of your evening would be sitting next to Steve and James, talking about your day and playing with such an adorable little boy. Weeks pass and feelings grow and you found yourself absolutely smitten with Steve. While your nights on the train were pleasant, you wanted to go on a real date with him. A sit down, crack open a nice bottle of wine, and just talk.

“Hey Steve, do you mind if I ask you something?” With a pounding heart, and a stomach acting like it’s auditioning to be on the Olympic gymnastic team, you finally muster up the courage to ask Steve out on a date.

“You know you can, Y/N.” He smiles as James plays with your hospital name tag.

“Well, while I love riding the subway with you and Jamie, here, would you... do you want to go out with me?” You duck your head, not able to meet his eyes.

Steve’s face is shocked, his mouth in a surprised o face, “Well, here I thought we were already going on dates. I’m a single dad, Y/N. I can’t offer you much because my first priority is and will be James. But what I can offer you, is clingy love, and a lifetime of dad jokes. If you can put up with that, I’d love to go on a date with you.”

Holding Steve’s hand you cuddle on his shoulder, James’ little hands cupping your face. “I get that Steve, I do. I’ll take anything I can get. Being with you, well, it’s the highlight of my day.” You lay on his shoulder in comfortable silence, as the train rattles its way through the city. You loved making up love stories on the subway, but who would have guessed your own love story would be written on the sticky seats of the D line.

[andoqin]

Mouse Ep 1

What is it with kdramas and needing to have plot elements in episode one that are fucking ludicrous.

So the structure of this episode is all over the place, we kind of jump backwards and forwards with no rhyme or reason and while it’s still manageable in terms of watchability it does feel herky jerky and makes the plot a bit hard to follow. 

I don’t know much about how South Korea does (or used to do) decisions on approving laws, especially laws that infringe on human rights, but the basic premise of the show seems to be that most psychopaths share the same gene which turns them into psychopaths (research on that is inconclusive as of yet, yes there is a genetic component but as to how far it influences us, there is nothing certain yet). Like, one of the main characters in the first ep is a scientist (up for a Nobel!) who figured this stuff out and has a test that gives you a 99% accuracy as to whether your child is going to be the next Ed Kemper/Charles Manson/Ted Bundy. 

I mean ... yeah... okay. So anyway he gets called to SK because of a string of serial murders and presents his findings to a small committee? of eight parliament members (I’m presuming), spouts his 99% accuracy test findings, but the 1% left over means that they might be a genius instead bc he also can’t tell the difference between psychopath and genius (which strikes me as a hilarious contradiction) and the committee votes on whether to force abortions on pregnant women where fetal dna testing points to the fetus having this kind of gene. The drama even points out that South Korea has banned abortions normally! So we’re right in eugenics-landia from the get go. 

The committee deciding as to whether they SHOULD ADOPT THIS LAW!!!! is split 4-4 (hilariously accurate to me though is the fact that there’s like 10 men in the room and one woman, that tracks) and the tie breaking voter votes against it, because his wife just got pregnant (as he reveals in a later scene) and then he gets told "you stole your baby's right to live in a world without crime or wars" by another woman. 

Anyway that’s not even the most ludicrous portion of this episode. 

That happens when a 5 (6 at most) year old child witnesses his family’s murder, which his slightly older brother barely survives, gets taken to a hospital, SEES THE MURDERER ON A POSTER IN THE HOSPITAL, NABS A SCALPEL, STOWS INTO THE POLICECAR ON THE WAY TO THE SUSPECTS HOUSE (they gotta go there bc one of the officers’ daughters was taken), AND TRIES TO STAB THE MURDERER!!! I repeat, this is a 5 year old child who just had pretty much the most traumatic experience that could happen to anyone. Good god, no wonder the serial killer got away with it so long the police are fucking inept. And then they FIND THE KIDS’ MOTHER’S HEAD IN A SNOWMAN (which is only revealed because of the stabbing attempt). I... what?????????

And then the police is forced to let him go bc... the court doesnt believe the witness (the kid i guess) and apparently they believe the hilarious excuse that the murderer says “oh idk how those snowmen got there, i didn’t build them”. Only for the (heavily pregnant DUN DUN DUUUN) wife of the murderer to go “here’s a fucking polaroid of you building the snowmen you asshole”. 

OH AND!!! our nobel nominated doctor is/used to be besties with serial killer, so when he tests the wife and the test comes back positive, she is distraught and wants to abort immediately, but she’s in her last trimester, so it’s a no go. 

And then to set up the plot we have another woman whose fetus tested positively but she doesn’t want to abort, bc her child is what she has left of her late husband and he could never hurt a fly (nvm the fact that it’s much more likely that she is the carrier of this gene, but that’s not science the drama is interested in). 

We then see a kid 5 and 10 years later clearly with APD issues (but also suffering from abuse at home?) and he’s killing animals, tries to murder his brother for tattling on him and gets strangled by a woman yelling “i never should have given birth to you” (but we dont see which woman it is). 

Why do dramas do this? Do better. 

[darylandbethfanforever9]

Devil’s Backbone

Devil’s Backbone

Chapter 7 

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+

Warnings: Smut, violence, past flashbacks of sexual assault, and descriptions of torture. Racial hate, and forced abortion. Not Tony Stark friendly.

Relationships: Bucky/OC, Steve/Natasha, Billy/Wanda/Grant, past Clint/Laura, and Sam/Sharon. Eventual Clint/Yelena, and rank/Karen.

Summary: In the aftermath of the Blip, Bucky struggled to find his place among the world and the Avengers. However, when he is sent on a mission to Madripoor to investigate a young woman, he starts to realize that maybe his past isn’t too far behind him. Co-Written with WalkingPotterGirl14.

Natasha wanted things to go back to how they were with Steve before the Accords and before her miscarriage. There was a part of her that felt like she was betraying Alexei, Melina, and Yelena by loving Steve, but the other side wanted to retire from the spy life. Wanted to retire from everything. She was tired of the jobs, of keeping secrets from the people she considered family. She didn't even hate Bucky or resent him anymore, unlike Alexei, Yelena, and Melina. She just wanted Steve and the rest of this to go away. She wanted life to feel remotely normal again. She didn't want to lie anymore to any of them. Everyone had been lied too so much. She was only added onto the drama. Natasha ran herself a bath, pouring in her jasmine scented bubble bath, mixing it with the water. She sighed tiredly, trying to settle into the water, when she felt her phone vibrate. As she looked at it, she saw it was a text message from Melina. 'I need to talk to you, Alexei and Yelena tomorrow in Zagreb, Croatia urgently. It's about her!' The text message said cryptically. Natasha felt a sense of dread wash over her at the text. 'I'll need to make an excuse to Steve, Tony, and the others first,' she texted quickly. Melina replied four minutes later. 'We are your family, Natalia, not them!' Melina had messaged back furiously. Natasha closed her in frustration, breaking down in tears at her dilemma.

"Whoever hired that team to assassinate the mystery girl really wants her dead. Tell Barnes and Carter to get a blood sample from her so we can test it for DNA. Maybe she's in the international database," Fury recommended sternly. Everyone nodded but Tony shook his head. "We need to send someone else to watch over Barnes, Fury. I personally believe that he's compromised. His judgement is skewed because he's convinced that this girl might be the dead girl from the files. Who knows what he might have done with her if she was in the Red Room," Tony insisted harshly, causing most of the people to look at him in disapproval. "We can't send Belova or Romanoff? They've been sent on a mission in Zagreb, Croatia to track down a few remaining Flag Smashers. Who else can we send?" Grant asked quietly, his face bruised from his fight with a Flag Smasher during a mission in London, Great Britain. "Send in Steve. He's become really good at working undercover and Bucky trusts him," Sam suggested diplomatically. It couldn't be him, seeing as the Smiling Tiger was in Madripoor. Ross had an expression of disdain, while Tony was cold but grudgingly agreed to the arrangement. "Try not to mess up, Capsicle," Tony said coldly, before walking out of the conference room. Steve sighs a bit before nodding. "I can do that. I'm sure Bucky hasn't gotten super far. I could help him out together."

Morgan Stark was determined to make her daddy happy. He'd been sad ever since Captain America's best friend, Bucky Barnes, had been pardoned by the government and found not guilty at his trial. Her dad had gone into a rage, shouting that Barnes was a monster and anyone on Steve's side was to blame for Thanos winning. So she was going to somehow make him smile again. She was going to build an AI, like he did. She already had a name picked out for him as well. Her dad had explained to her that he had created Ultron to protect the world. Maybe she could do that again, and somehow bring him back to make not only her daddy happy but the world happy. All she knew was that she was tired of hearing him fighting all the time with the Avengers and she wanted to somehow change that. Maybe a new Ultron could do that? She had found his memory core not that long ago. Maybe if she followed his blueprints from years ago…she could, do it? She didn't want any more arguing or yelling…all she wanted was for this to end. So that was that. She was going to do it. One way or another. Daddy had a lab always near him. It would be the perfect time to do it. Maybe they could finally figure out how to end all the fighting. Maybe she'll be the cause of it. Daddy would be happy. They would see they were wrong about him. Somehow.

When Steve had arrived in Madripoor, it looked the same as it always had from before, with bright lights and big neon signs drawing in anyone from a mile away. However, his eyes were more focused on trying to get to Bucky's place. He had talked with Sharon about where to go and she had directed him willingly, leading him towards midtown where a lot of the higher ups in the crime world lived. It was also where the mystery woman lived, apparently. Hopefully they would be able to get through to this quickly. He had knocked on the door, and for a moment there was silence. He had been expecting that, considering Bucky was most certainly not expecting anyone to come by and greet him. But he slowly opened the door, and when he saw it was Steve his eyes widened.

"Where the hell did you come from?" He asks as he lets him in, giving him an embrace. When Steve stepped back, he closes the door behind him, turning to Bucky. "Lot has happened at the base while you were gone," Steve states with a raised brow. "I'm not longer in charge of the Avengers. Ross gave it to Tony." Bucky's brow raises. "You're serious?" "He did. They were upset about our choice in operation of sending you here." Bucky lets out a long sigh, going to sit on the couch at that. "We defended you the best we could, but at the end of the day, they had the last call. Sam suggested I come over here to fill out their needs." Bucky's brow raises once more. "Which are?" "Keep an eye on you." Bucky feels himself groan before standing. "How the hell am I ever going to be an Avenger in their eyes?" He asks, his voice rising a bit in anger. "Everything I do now, even after all the amends and everything I've done, it'll never work…all I want is to prove myself. I know I'm a piece of shit but…I'm fucking trying." "I know you are, Buck," Steve says gently, letting his hands rest on the man's shoulders. "I know you are. And trust me, we all see it. There are some that are just stuck in their ways that I don't believe are going to change soon. Those are the ones that, when they do inevitably open their eyes, they'll see the most change in you." Bucky snorts a bit. "That one of your little political speeches?" he asks. "No," Steve answers, shaking his head. "Trust me, I highly doubt I'm going to be doing much more than you are here. If anything, while I know how to stay undercover, if I get recognized here, it's game over." He gestures to you. "At least with you, not a lot of people know your face. Even this girl doesn't." He glances over at Bucky's hands and notices there seemed to be dried blood on it. "Speaking of that…" Bucky glances down at his hand and feels his cheeks turn red. "It's not on me, I swear – Maria wanted to interrogate the men that came, and she ended up killing them. Turns out they were sent by a woman named Melina Vostokoff. She wants to end the woman for some reason." "Well, we knew about the attack but your…hands?" Bucky sighs a bit. "I went over to help her a couple of days ago after she was attacked. Try and get more info on her. I guess I just didn't clean off all the blood afterwards." He looks up at Steve and shakes his head. "She is a mystery woman…definitely likes to keep her identity a secret." Steve nods before going to sit down next to him. "I want to ask you a question, and just respond the best you can." Bucky nods. "Are you sure that you don't know her from back then?" Bucky sighs, swallowing a bit. "I…feel like I do." He glances back at Steve. "If you saw the way she moves, and what she had – I mean, she's like a carbon copy of Nat but she's ruthless. She even had some of the same weapons. She had to be trained in Red Room…but I can't recall her for the life of me. That's why I'm trying so hard to figure out if she's truly Ana or not. Maria seems like a reasonable name but…don't know." Steve nods quietly. "Didn't you and Nat have a thing back when you were there?" Bucky quietly nods. He didn't like to think about it often. There was so much pain involved in everything there. "Do you think you might have known this girl like that?" "I genuinely can't remember," Bucky answers honestly, glancing at him. "At this point, all I'm looking for is for some way to figure out if she's truly who she says she is. Maybe after I can search more." Steve sighs but nods. "We got a lot of work ahead of us, then."

Natasha had waited patiently, her arms crossed against her chest with Yelena. It seemed it would take hours for Melina and Alexei to arrive, but when they did, it felt like ages. "You two are worse on time than I am, and that's say something," Yelena mutters. "Quiet, you two," Melina states, looking between them. "We have a serious problem, and I believe you two know what it is."

Natasha and Yelena exchange an uneasy glance, as they look at Alexei who thankfully didn't know what was going on. If he found out Melina had been lying to him for all these years then things would get bloody. "Why did you call me here, Melina?" Alexei asked suspiciously. He hadn't aged well, and it was clearly showing. Despite having the Super-Soldier, it was a far weaker version than the one Bucky and Steve had running through their veins. The woman ignored him as she drank from her glass of red wine, her eyes cold and emotionless. Sometimes Natasha wondered if the woman did genuinely care about her and Yelena, like Alexei did, or if she was just using them. "I believe that despite our best efforts to purge the Red Room, it still exists. Over in Madripoor, a young woman killed the Power Broker, before taking over the city. She's killed several people who tried to break the new rules she implemented as some shot way of a moral code. I refused to acknowledge the bitch, and I tried to kill her…but she defeated me," she said sourly, a hint of bitterness in her voice. "What did you do, Melina?" Natasha asked warningly, praying that the woman hadn't compromised Bucky. If she had, then Steve would go ballistic and raise hell if Bucky were hurt. Not to mention the others. Her surrogate mother regarded her with a cold expression that would have terrified anyone else. But she wasn't frightened of her anymore, not after seeing what she was afraid of. "I hired a death squadron to kill the little whore. She won't survive against them," Melina said confidently, causing Natasha to stare at the woman in shock, before her gaze breaks. Fuck. She had enough and was about to leave, when Melina grabbed her right wrist in a tight grip. "Remember where your true loyalties are, Natasha. I don't want you to end up like her…who chose HIM over us," Melina said meaningfully, her grip tight. Natasha nodded coldly, ripping her arm away and started walking back to her car, refusing to be intimidated. 'What have I done, god?' She thought bitterly, climbing into her car, and turning on the heating.

Ana had cleaned up her apartment after she disposed of the bodies. She had dumped Diego's body in Low Town, knowing that someone would post it on the internet. The other three remaining bodies had been dealt with. She hated the Red Room and what they had done to her. but at the very least the teachers knew how to teach all of them in how to dispose of a corpse after killing the individual. She used a luminal torch to see if any bloodstains remained, relieved when she didn't see any. Despite being near people, she desperately wanted a few furry companions. She needed something to keep her company, other than the people she would meet. She wasn't naïve. Ana knew that they would be targets but she wouldn't let anyone hurt them. She was going to ask X-Con Security Consultants if they would be willing to install security at her house. She decided to take a shower and rest up for the night. She wasn't taking any chances now, considering that Melina had tried to kill her twice now. The older woman still thought she was the same, useless, naive, and helpless little girl all those years ago. She sighed heavily as she trudged upstairs, taking off her bloody, filthy clothes and threw them on the floor. There was no salvaging them. She'd burn the clothes tomorrow. She stepped into the en suite bathroom, turning on the hot water, as she looked at herself in the full body mirror. Scars decorated her body, mainly on her chest, her right arm and some were on her back, and left leg.

Bullet wounds, knife wounds and there was a faded scar on her stomach. She touched it hesitantly, feeling a strange sense of heartache and loss for no apparent reason.

Bucky had gone into the Brass Monkey club, taking Steve with him as they saw Sharon was there. She gestured for them to join her, as they went to a table at the back, where they wouldn't be disturbed. "So, I did some asking around and apparently the woman calling herself Maria Kapitonova is using another woman's name. This is the real Maria Kapitonova. And she's been dead for the last six years, Bucky and Steve." Sharon explained grimly, showing them a photo of a young woman with red hair, brown eyes, and a scar on her throat. Bucky had known that the woman was using a false identity, but this just proved it. Deep down, he knew that she closely resembled Anastasia. Maybe they were related? "So, she's using the identity of a dead woman whose been dead for the last six years. What else have you got, Sharon?" Steve asked intrigued. They were finally getting a fresh lead. "Yeah, I was hoping you'd ask me that question. I did some digging, and Fury emailed me these files that he and Hill found at an abandoned HYDRA base in Voronezh, Voronezh Oblast. Turns out, HYDRA and the Red Room were both working closely together on a project," she said meaningfully. "Something we should talk about elsewhere." Bucky and Steve got her point and left with her to go to her house, leaving behind the bar. Once they arrived, Sharon continued from where she left off, and handed them copies of the files, closing the door behind her. "The Red Room and HYDRA discovered that the girls at the Red Room who had the Super-Soldier serum were far more able to carry a child of the Winter Soldiers. There are lists of names who were chosen for the program. The project began in the 1990′s, and a lot of the pregnancies resulted in the women dying from complications due to the babies developing quicker than a normal baby," Sharon explained gravely as Bucky read the file. He recognized a few of the names, but felt his blood run cold when his eyes drifted to two familiar names. 'Red Guardian and Black Widow - viable pregnancy. Scans confirm that Vostokoff is carrying twin daughters. No complications detected so far into the pregnancy. Vostokoff has confirmed that she has suffered no cramping, or any sign of miscarriage.' "Holy shit, Steve. What if Alexei and Melina were the parents of Anastasia and her twin sister?" He asked quietly. Steve's expression was of grimness and concern. "That's more than likely, but Natasha never mentioned that Alexei and Melina had kids," Steve said hesitantly. Bucky knew the man didn't want to think Natasha had lied to him again. "There's more. On the second page, according to Dr Lyudmila Kudrin, only three women survived carrying the pregnancies to full term. Vostokoff ended up giving birth on June 18, 1995. It says here that she delivered two twin girls," Sharon said wearily, causing Bucky to frown. Bucky read more of the file, feeling his stomach roll in disgust, seeing that the project had been a partial success. They had put the project on hold in order to try and create more of the Super-Soldier Serum. He felt a cold sensation run down his spine, as he thought of Ana then. Maybe she was Alexei and Melina's daughter…possibly.

When the rest of the team had heard back later on what Sharon had discovered regarding the mystery woman, that had sent them on a trip to try and figure out who exactly her family was. Having Sharon reveal that there was actually a twin sister to the girl was an amazing lead. So, one of the Avengers took it into her own hands once she heard that – namely, Wanda. She knew what it was like to lose a twin, and if the young woman that they were looking after really did lose one, there was most likely a hole there that would never be filled. The least she could do is find out if they were right.

After that, they had searched all over the internet, from typical shit to the dark web, trying to see if they could find some sort of league to get them in the right direction. And soon, it wasn't long before they discovered something. The last name Liukin was associated with a Russian cemetery. Instantly, Wanda had assembled the team to fly to where it was, Fury agreeing to it nonetheless considering that it was for a mission. Thankfully the quinjet was quick enough to get them there a little faster than the normal airtime. Even so, arriving had Wanda shaking to see if this was real. They had showed up to the cemetery, stepping in and searching for her name. And it wasn't long before they did find it. Wanda had stood in front of it for a moment, feeling Clint let a hand rest against her shoulder. 'Angelina Aleksandrovna Liukin.' This was it. This was the twin. They were right. They had looked all over to see if there was even a possibility of another Liukin, but funnily, there were none under the names they were looking for. It was mainly strong Russian names that had been attached to it. "I can't believe it," she whispers, looking down at the grave, kneeling down. "There's a lot more to this woman than we realize…she was buried so deep." Clint sighs softly before nodding. "Sometimes that's the case with these things, but…this is good in a way." Wanda looks up to him. "Now that we know for sure that she exists, we have a DNA match-up. She is most likely in the International Data Base if she was dead. We were able to find her originally. If we can somehow get a blood sample from Maria, we can see if she's really Ana or not." Wanda stands, pulling her jacket around her tightly. It was still freezing cold here. "Don't you think that's a bit…sketchy? I mean both Steve and Bucky are there. I don't know how they're going to just get a blood sample off of her." "I'm sure they can figure it out," Clint assures. "We have two of the best super-soldiers in the world. They're not that dumb." "They're also not that smart," Wanda mutters. "True," Clint chuckles before helping her stand. "Come on, let's take some pictures and get this to Fury."

As had been expected, they had gotten the proof to Fury as quickly as possible of the life of Angelina. And as they had expected, Fury had requested to Bucky not that long after to somehow get a blood sample from the mystery woman. To which both Bucky and Steve had sat down for hours, trying to figure out the best way to do so. Because who can just…do that? Eventually, though, they had settled on something that might spurt up one. "How about you just take her out on a date?" Bucky's brow raises in response. "You're serious?" "Yeah, why not? I mean, there's a high probability that you'll most likely get attacked because she has so many bounty's out for her right now. It's the best option you have that's legal in our eyes." He shrugs a bit. "Or you can just attack her mysteriously." "No," Bucky instantly states. His quick response surprised Steve a bit. "I mean, I…I don't want to hurt her more than she's already been hurt. You can tell from a mile away that she has gone through some shit." "Okay…don't worry, we won't do that," Steve reassures him, rubbing his back. "But we still need to get that sample, one way or another…I believe you'll be able to do it" Bucky sighs a bit before glancing up at him. "I haven't been on a date since the 1940′s." Steve snickers. "I think you'll be fine."

After their conversation, it wasn't long before Bucky had asked Maria to come with him on a date, something he had surprisingly been quite nervous to do. Again, it had been so long since he had done something like this, but he knew that it was needed for what they were planning on doing. And she had agreed after a little bit, deciding that they would head out to a smaller restaurant in Madripoor, one that wouldn't attract so much attention. When he had come to pick her up at her apartment, he had waited downstairs for her to come. When she arrived, he felt his mouth drop slightly. You know, it was getting really damn hard to do this mission when the subject was so goddamn gorgeous.

[theonewiththefanfics]

At Arm’s Length (Part 5)

 Synopsys: Modern!AU

Bucky Barnes is the co-owner of ‘Barnes and Rogers’. The Reader is the secretary for Stark Industries. Both are childhood friends and madly in love. Things couldn’t be more perfect. But when something happens at Reader’s work, things might change and it will test to what lengths the pair is willing to go to find their happy ending.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: swearing, mentions of accidents and hospitals and injuries

Word count: 2298

Italics are flashbacks

Bucky was halfway through throwing things in his suitcase and mentally trying to check everything off a list he might need in Spain, when the doorbell rang. The absolute want to telepathically punch whoever was on the other side of the door and taking away every precious minute was almost as unbearable as that time Y/N had made him try out sushi and he’d had to pretend not to hate it.

Practically running, Bucky got to the door and ripped it open only to be greeted by a bewildered Steve at his actions.

“What?” Bucky shook his head. “What do you want?”

“You in a hurry of some kind?”

“Actually yes.” He stepped away from the door and allowed Steve to come inside the loft, quickly shutting it and grabbing the dirty whiskey glass before placing it into the sink and washing it out. “I’m going to Barcelona.”

Steve blanked for a second. “Barcelona?”

“Yes, Barcelona. Just because you repeat it won’t change the name of the city.”

His friend scoffed, and Bucky threw him a dirty gaze, but Steve just bit down on his lip. There was only one reason Bucky would be in such a frenzy, and it wasn't a secret (not that he was trying to keep it that way). 

“I’m assuming you talked to Y/N," Steve more so stated rather than asked.

The brunet sighed and nodded.

“And I assume it didn’t go over too well…”

“Nope,” Bucky murmured and plopped onto the couch. “In fact, it’s probably the worst way everything could’ve gone, which is why I need to go and see her face-to-face.”

“How so?” 

“She admitted she loved me. But…” Bucky let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes like it would erase her words from existence. “Then she said it’s not enough.”

“Did she actually say she’s in love with you?” In all honesty, Steve was quite stunned. Yes, he knew Y/N was most definitely capable of love and loved the people in her life as fiercely as the sun burned in the sky, but actually saying those words… that was not something she took lightly. And especially in the context, Bucky made sure his words were heard.

“Well not exactly. But when she asked me for a reason not to move on, and I said because she loved me as I love her, she didn’t deny it… and that’s good enough for me.”

Steve looked at his friend, the determination on his face. There was no way he’d be able to stop him (not that he wanted to), but at the same time, it was his job as his partner to get that brain living in romance-land back into the real world as well. “Well before you go, I think you should know, that whatever happened last night, has become an absolute mess. More than it already was.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean? What’s a mess?”

Steve huffed. “This.”

From the inside of his jacket, Steve took out a roll of paper and unfolded it, placing it on the glass coffee table. In front of both men was a newspaper, a picture of Bucky’s face all over it, but not in a flattering sort of way. Especially with the title in big bold letters read ‘Is the fairytale already over? Bucky Barnes was seen cosying up to Tony Stark’s personal assistant Natalia Alianova Romanova minutes after professing his love on live TV to the recently promoted Stark Industries secretary Y/N Y/L/N.’

He threw the paper back onto the table, not even bothering to look at the full article. “This is bullshit," he gritted through his teeth. "It’s absolute bullshit. Look,” Bucky sighed placing a hand on his hip and running the prosthetic one through his already dishevelled hair. “I can't do this right now, I need to get to Y/N first. I’ll deal with it when I get back. I’m going to Barcelona.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “To do what – forcibly make Y/N come back?”

And that set off Bucky. “I can’t lose her! Not after everything that has happened! I can’t just sit on this fucking couch and wait until she is transferred back because guess what – that’s not happening! I’ve let life dictate everything too much, so it’s time I take it into my own hands.”

The desperation was laced in every single syllable of his words, as Steve understood what he meant.

***

Bucky had never been this close to death. Scratch that. The only other time Bucky had been this close to death was when he had tried to sneak out of his room in eleventh grade to go with Steve and Y/N to a midnight movie showing, after failing his math exam. His mom hadn’t been too happy about the results, to put it mildly, so when Winifred Barnes had seen her son try and climb through the window after she'd downgraded his curfew to nine PM… let’s just say, Bucky didn’t join for movie nights for a month.

But as the train violently swished off of the tracks, his body tossed around the inside like a ragdoll, Bucky truly thought he was going to die. The train rolled to the side and continued to skid along the way. A sharp pain shot down from his left shoulder to his abdomen and up to his head, and that’s when the darkness came.

It wasn’t all-encompassing darkness as Bucky thought death would be. It was warm, where he thought it would be cold, and soothing where he thought it would rip him apart. But all of that he could attribute to the fact that even after years of not seeing her, barely catching up with phone calls and texts as they had gone their separate academic ways, Y/N was the one that brought him peace.

She was there, in the blackness, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, and her gentle laughter filled the air around him, fueling Bucky with nothing but love. 

God, how he loved her. He’d been too scared to ruin their friendship and too scared to mess up the dynamic between him, her and Steve, but now he didn’t have to worry about that. 

Death was comfortable, it was as soft as Y/N’s hands and as gentle as the look in her eyes, and Bucky wasn’t even half-mad about going, as long as she led him through into the light.

But when he got to the end, the light was too bright and stung his eyes, and the soft palm that had slid in his had transformed into a rough and scratchy one, and Bucky’s blue eyes opened up to see a sterile room rather than what he thought would be heaven in the form of Y/N's old bedroom. 

Steve’s eyes were red as if he had been crying for days on end when their blue orbs met.

“I’m sorry,” his friend choked out, brain barely processing Bucky was awake, spewing out the first thing that came to it, the guilt eating at his insides. “They tried everything.”

“What?” Bucky slurred and tried to roll his head to the side when blearing hot pain shot through his side. That’s when the warmth he’d felt disappeared and the sharp reality set in, the horrid memories of what had happened coming back in painful waves. He didn't need to glance to his left to understand what he'd paid to stay alive. The bandages across his chest and the stump where his arm used to be said it all.

But even then, Bucky turned his head back to look at Steve and gave him a tight-lipped smile, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he desperately tried to keep it from wobbling to somehow comfort his friend.

“You gotta swear something to me, Steve." Bucky immediately stated, mind running a mile a minute. "Right now.”

“Anything,” he said through a hiccup. “You know I’d do anything for you, Buck.”

“We don’t tell Y/N about this shit.”

Steve was flabbergasted. They told Y/N everything. It was practically wired into all of their DNAs to share stuff with one another, so when Bucky demanded silence about the accident, Steve’s head didn’t compute the request.

“We can’t,” Bucky reiterated, squeezing Steve's palm with his remaining hand. “We can’t tell her.”

“And why the fuck not? She’s our friend! Our best friend!”

“Because she’s gonna flip.”

Steve scoffed. “As any normal person would. I can’t lie to her about something like this.”

“We’re not gonna be lying. We’re just not gonna say anything.”

“Why?”

Bucky bit down on his lip before looking up at the ceiling, attempting but ultimately failing to keep the tears at bay. “Because I don’t want her to look at me in any different way. I don’t want her to worry or stress.”

“Buck, she deserves to know.”

“He sighed looking back at his friend. “I know… but she deserves to finish her degree.”

Steve shook his head. “How does this factor into her getting her fucking education?”

“This is Y/N we’re talking about!” Bucky let out a teary chuckle.  “She’d drop anything and everything if she found out! Fuck, she’d run over after hearing that you got off scots free," and Bucky breathed out that statement with pure relief in his voice, as he gave Steve a once-over to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. "She'd do that just to see for herself that you’re alright. I can’t let her do that to her life.” Bucky finally looked at the stump that once was his left arm. “She deserves to grow and flourish before any of this shit baggage comes into her life. The recovery will be long, I'm not delusional. And she doesn’t need to see all of the crap that’s gonna happen.”

“Don’t you think it’s unfair to Y/N?” Steve bit his lip. “She’d want to be here to support you.”

“I know,” Bucky sighed. “But I couldn’t handle seeing her in pain. In any amount of pain… so please, Steve… don’t tell her about any of this.”

And with a resigned sigh, he took hold of Bucky’s one remaining palm and squeezed it. “I won’t. I promise.”

Two years and a month later after the accident.

“I deserved to know!”

Bucky let out a terrified shudder. He took it back. The train wasn’t the closest he’d ever been to death. This, the moment he told it to Y/N, was. “I – I know, but –“

“What ‘but’?! There is no ‘but’! I deserved to fucking know! Bucky, I loved you! I still do! You’re my family as is Steve, and the thought of having potentially lost you…” She chocked back and sob and placed a hand over her mouth. She had to take a deep breath before she could continue. “The fact that you didn’t want me there for you, honestly hurts like shit. Did – do I mean so little to you?”

“Sweetheart, you’re my entire world! Please don’t ever think that I don’t trust you or love you. I do,” he whispered bringing her head to his chest, which she reluctantly placed there, hearing Bucky’s erratic heartbeat. “I love you more than you’ll ever be able to understand, but you didn’t deserve to see the shit I had to deal with. It was nasty and horrible and brutal, and I’d never want to put you through something like that," he muttered in her Y/H/C locks, kissing her head.

“I don’t care about that!” She sniffled grasping onto the back of his shirt. “I’d change your fucking diapers if I’d had to. I would’ve dropped everything to help you!”

Bucky pulled her face back, head cupped between his palms, a pained smile on his face. “Exactly! Because you’re amazing, and kind and sweet and care for others and their happiness more than you care for your own! I couldn’t let you do that! You were so close to getting your degree. I wasn’t about to ruin it.”

“Bucky, you’ve never ruined anything.”

“Even your tenth birthday celebration?”

And that’s when she let out a small chuckle, but it was like a symphony of angels to Bucky’s ears. His Y/N was back, the smile he'd fallen in love with once again on her face. “Okay, maybe just that one thing. But I don’t hold that against you. More so the bad leftover shrimp you had.” She placed her palm against his cheek, and he leaned into her touch. “Please, don’t keep things from me. Especially something as big as that. I want to be there for you. Through thick and thin, I wanna be able to help.”

Bucky couldn’t help the tears that brimmed at his lower lash line. “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too,” she mumbled pressing a small kiss to where his prosthetic connected to his shoulder. “Now let’s eat that pizza and watch ‘Friends’. You owe me. Big time.”

***

“And what are you gonna say? When you get to Barcelona?” Steve asked, finally realizing there was no way he could talk his friend out of what he had set his mind on. The blond would be lying if he said, he wasn’t at least somewhat excited that Bucky flying out could potentially get Y/N her head out of her ass and agree to at least try a long-distance thing. He'd been watching from the sidelines as his two friends loved the other from afar, and his heart ached for them.

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. “The same thing I told her before – that I love her, have for a while, and I’m not ready to give up on something that hasn’t even started yet.”

“And then?”

“And then… and then I can only hope she doesn’t make me leave.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​ @strangersstranger​

At Arm’s Length tags: @impalatobakerstreet​ @slender--spirit​ @janineabad @salty-buchanan @chrisevans1fan @dyanna-corona​ @chook007​ @lost-and-wandering-alone​ @goalie-love @nerdgirljen​ @jediviolet​ @fandomly-writings​ @densewaffle @hawkxyes @mizzzpink​ @nishanki1​ @misplacedorphan​ @dylan5573​ @onespideyboi @nerdygirlwithacrush​ @rumlow-barnes-kulina @wantonmeep​ @savemesteeb​ @hoe4sebastian @dreambutdontsleepx​ @marvelismysafezone​ @cap-just-said-language​

Bucky tag list: @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn​ @projectxhappiness​ @callmebucky-doll​ @coal000​ @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken​ @sophiealiice​ @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns​ @potentially-kinetic​ @thatonegirljessy99​ @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611​ @horrorx570ximagines​ @the-nargles-made-me-do-it​ @pooslie​ @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel​ @purplebananatragedy​ @pxrrishly​ @parker-barnes-af​ @skulliebythesea​ @california-grown​ @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @belongsto-prachi​ @hello-i-am-insane​ @its-nott-my-problem @emmalbg @hopeinahotbox​

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

A/N: soooo, I guess I’m continuing this, although for whatever reason my fics won’t show up in the Bucky tags, so if you could reblog it please do so as it would greatly help :)

Also sometime on Friday I’ll make a masterpost of every tag list I have and everyone who’s tagged in what. I have loads of accounts I can’t seem to tag, and some of it might be due to the fact that these accounts have changed their names, and if you’re one of them and still would like to remain on the list I’d like it if you sent me a message with your old name so I can update it. If not I’ll just remove the untaggable name :)

P.S. hope you like this :)

P.S.S. please don’t plagiarise or repost my works on different platforms (wattpad, AO3 etc) without my specific written persmission.

[bonesgadh]

Some initial thoughts after watching Yashahime:

I have a love/hate relationship with the “we start with a bang and tell the story backwards” trope. I understand it’s more exciting that way but it gives me severe anxiety.

My guess is time will play an important role. Towa was afraid of changing the future if she opened her mouth, something I don’t remember Kagome ever worrying about. 

Kagome’s bike saddle I—

SANGO BABY I MISSED YOU <3 <3 <3 HER AND MIROKU’S BABIES ARE SO CUTE.

Bitch when I tell you I gasped at the mention of Kikyo...

Kagome is still the nicest girl ever <3

Shippo continues to be twins’ victim.

Rin is adorable 😊

Angsty Inukag is my religion.

Sango is still the queen of being prepared.

Miroku is kind of useless without the wind tunnel 🤔

Sango continues to be a fucking badass after giving birth to three kids. I knew my girl wouldn’t disappoint.

THE GANG KICKING DEMONIC BUTT JUST LIKE THEY DID IN THE OLD TIMES.

Not Kagome using her old command again 😭😭😭 MY BABIES.

I’m scared Inuyasha and the group failed into some sort of trap of the owl demon. It can’t be a coincidence he watched the battle with Roothead and is one of the men interrogating Towa. Please let them be alive.

MOROHA IS JUST LIKE INUYASHA!! Rumiko really said no DNA test needed, huh?

Seriously, she has like two brain cells but I love her.

I’ve only had Towa, Tsetsuna and Moroha for seven hours, but if anything happened to them I would kill everyone in this room including myself.

[myhaikyuuthings]

Just One Night

request:  Now that we established that no one can resist the pretty setter, do you have HC of how Akaashi and y/n met up that fateful night of conception? Maybe they were an old flame rekindled for the night? Did their passion soar? Or were they just looking to hit it and quit it?

Just read part 2 of the Daddy HCs and you honestly can’t expect me not to want more after reading Akaashi’s!! (like u know, maybe a ˢᵐᵘᵗ fic of the one night stand with a flash forward to the results of the dna test 👉🏼👈🏼)

wait so who’s the father? Y/n’s ex or Akaashi? I gotta know 😫

pairing: Akaashi x fem! reader

warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol (reader is Not drunk)

** i couldn’t find this gif without the words also if you wanna listen to the song i did while writing this, it’s here :) this is shorter than it probably should have been but I didn’t wanna get too deep into their one night stand**

It had been a pretty bad fight. Bad enough for you to throw your engagement ring at his head and break up with him. Bad enough to end up at the local bar, nursing a drink and ignoring anyone who tried to talk to you. Until he walked in. 

He was with a group of men, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He was easily the prettiest man you had ever seen, and you were trying really hard not to stare. But your eyes always found your way back to the little booth, to him. Thankfully, he didn’t appear to notice you basically gawking at him. 

You were very wrong about that.

“Here you go miss,” the bartender smiled, passing you a mixed drink. 

“Oh I didn’t order this,” you said, trying to push the drink back. 

“That man in the booth sent it over for you, I can take it back if you’d like?”

 You followed his finger to the gorgeous man, blushing furiously at the realization that he had in fact noticed your staring. With a smile you assured the bartender that it was fine and you’d drink it. Not long after you finished the drink, you noticed him approaching from the corner of your eye. You almost felt guilty for the shiver his mere presence sent down your spine. 

“Hi, I’m Akaashi Keiji, may I have your name?”

 ‘Oh his voice is as pretty as his face,’ you thought, introducing yourself to him and accepting the hand he extended. ‘Pretty hands too, what the hell is he perfect or something?’

You flirt a bit as the night goes on, but that guilty feeling is always sitting at the pit of your stomach. So you came clean, about how recent your break up was and that you weren’t looking for anything serious. He was just too pretty to look away from. He handled it surprisingly well, telling you your ex sounded like a dick, and that nothing had to come of tonight if you didn’t want it to, he was simply enjoying your company. 

Something about the way he said that made you make a decision that would haunt you for many years, but in the moment it seemed like the best choice you could have ever made. 

- nsfw

His hands held your hips lightly, his tongue trailing across the column of your throat. You shuddered under him, leaning into his touch. This wasn’t by far how you expected your night to end, but he felt so good pressed against you that you really couldn’t complain. Your legs were hooked around his hips, pulling him deeper into you. 

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock,” he groaned against you, his hips thrusting into you lazily. You clenched at his words, moaning lewdly. “Sound so pretty too.”

“Keiji,” you panted, blushing deeply as he leaned up from your neck to look at you. 

If it was possible for him to get more attractive than the first time you saw him, it would be now. The way his hair stuck to his forehead just a bit, the deep flush going up his neck to his cheeks. The hickies littered across his skin that you left. He was truly a work of art above you. 

“What is it?” he asked, moving one hand to cup your cheek gently. His eyes were so soft it almost felt like he loved you in that moment. 

“Kiss me, please,” you whispered, draping your arms around his neck.

 He smiled down at you, catching your lips with his. The way his tongue slid against yours was intoxicating, the faintest hint of whiskey on his breath. He nipped at your bottom lip, his thrusts becoming faster at the moans falling from your mouth. 

“If you keep clenching around me like that I’m going to cum,” he growled, his nose brushing against yours as his hips slammed into yours. 

“Cum for me then Keiji.” In retrospect, you both should have realized you forgot the condom. 

-  end nsfw

Your ex knew about your one night with Akaashi before you got back together. But he never thought there was a possibility that Akaashi was his son’s father. So when he got the call from his lawyers, stating that you wanted a dna test he didn’t know how to react. 

All four of you sat in the lawyers office, waiting for her to read out the test results. You knew your son wanted Akaashi to be his biological father, you could see it in the way his hand was intertwined with your husbands. If you could have avoided this, you would have. Making the two people you love potentially miss out on years of each others lives because you guessed wrong? Part of you hoped you had guessed right. 

Akaashi never faulted you for it. You had history with your ex, many years together before the two of you met. When your son was born, and as he grew up, it was obvious he took after you. So really, he couldn’t blame you for never reaching out. His hand held yours as you waited. 

“The DNA results show the father is Akaashi Keiji.” 

Your exes jaw dropped before quickly morphing into anger and hurt. Akaashi simply smirked beside you, knowing your son was his. After all, he was too much like him not to be. 

“In your face you waste of cum!” Your son yelled out, doing a happy dance before flipping off your ex. 

You didn’t even have the heart to get onto him, the guilt of keeping them apart for so long hitting you like a ton of bricks. 

“Don’t start blaming yourself now, you didn’t know,” Akaashi said, reading you like a book as your ex stormed out of the room. 

“Yeah mom, I look just like you it’s not your fault, plus you brought him back into my life.” 

“I love you both so much.” 

[anythingandeverything1d]

The tape (part 7)

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Your pov:

You made it to the car before the tears started. They were rapidly falling down your cheeks, clouding your vision and your mind. Of course Niall had said that, of course he thought you were making a mistake going back to Harry so quickly. Hell, EVERYONE probably thought it was a mistake to trust him so easily again, but no one knew. They didn’t know how you felt, how Harry felt, or everything the two of you had gone through together. They knew nothing and yet they all had the audacity to judge your actions in the situation. You started the car, needing to get away from his house as fast as possible, but also having no idea where to go. You didn’t want to go home. You didn’t want Harry to see you like this and risk him getting upset and losing whatever feelings he had figured out with Niall, thus being the person to once again ruin One Directions already uncertain future. You also didn’t want to drive to Liam or Louis’ and involve them after your previous conversation where you told them to back off and let you and Harry figure it out on your own. You pulled out of the driveway, looking in the mirror as you left, Niall sitting on the porch in tears, calling out your name. You almost went back, almost gave him another chance to explain, but you also knew he needed to be sober and willing to talk before that would ever work out. 

You decided a drive would be good, but you didn’t have anywhere specific in mind you wanted to go. You just thought that a little wind in your hair with your music blaring was exactly the distraction you needed before going home to Harry and explaining the events that had unfolded. You turned the volume up, rolled the windows down and sang along, “why men great till they gotta be great, woo, I just took a DNA test, turns out, I’m 100% that bitch.” you stopped at the red light, quieting your singing when the car next to you looked over with concerned faces. You probably looked like a crazy woman, tear stained cheeks, puffy eyes, and singing Lizzy at the top of your lungs, it was almost a cry for help. You heard your phone buzzing and looked down at Harry’s name. You reached for the phone, which had fallen to the floor on the passenger’s side, when everything stopped, your vision went black, and the loud boom of a car hitting yours echoed through the intersection.

Harry’s pov:

It had been hours since (y/n) had left to go talk to Niall, HOURS. It shouldn’t have taken that long. Harry had texted her, called, and yet no response which was abnormal. Normally she would at least send a text back letting him know that everything was going okay. He had complete trust in her, but something wasn’t sitting right about the situation. He dialed Niall’s number, hoping to get some clarification but there was no answer from him either. He paced around the living room anxiously. What if she decided to chose Niall, what if she decided he was right, leaving Harry in the process. Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest, he had just gotten her back, he couldn’t lose her, not again. He clicked another contact and held the phone to his ear anxiously awaiting the answer. “Louis?”

“What do ya want now, fooking hell Harry, can’t seem to do anything without getting a call from you these days.”

“Sorry...sorry....it’s just-”

“Lemme guess, (y/n).”

“She’s been gone for hours...neither her or Niall are answering...I don’t know what to do.”

“Well I’m about to pull into Niall’s so I’ll let you know what they are up to.”

“Why are you at Niall’s?”

“He wanted to watch the game together. I didn’t know (y/n) was going over or I would’ve held off but I’m about there now so its a little late. I’ll send her home to you.”

Harry sighed and bit his lip, “I just want to know she’s okay...”

“I’m sure she is mate, just relax. I’m literally two minutes from his driveway.”

“You don’t think she would-”

“She’s not gettin it on with Niall. I think it’s pretty obvious who she loves and it isn’t the Irish lad.”

“Yeah, I’m probably just overreacting.”

“Exactly. Okay, I’m pulling in now. I don’t see her car...did she drive herself?”

“Yeah...yeah she would have her car.”

“Well maybe she’s on her way home...hang on Niall is on the porch, I’ll ask him.”

“Okay..” Harry’s nerves were going insane, he couldn’t even stand still. Something just didn’t feel right.

“Niall, when did (y/n) leave...” he heard Louis shouting to Niall but couldn’t quite make out the answer. “Are you sure?”

“What? What is it?”

“Niall says she left an hour ago.” Harry’s heart sank. If she wasn’t at Niall’s where was she? “I’m sure everything is okay...” Louis tried to reassure him, but it wasn’t working. 

Harry hung up and dialed her number again, but there was still no answer. He called again, “come on (y/n).....answer.....answer....” No answer. He hung up and texted her, *everything okay? where are you?* He sat down and tried to think of what else to do...he might be able to track the phone but that wasn’t likely..she had blocked him from her location after the sex tape leaked. *Just let me know you are okay....Im getting worried* He dropped the phone to the couch and picked up the remote to turn on the tv, maybe some Friends would take his mind off it. He clicked resume on the episode and tried to focus but his phone buzzing immediately had his hopes up. “(y/n)?” he answered before looking at the number.

“No. It’s me.”

“Louis what the hell.”

“Turn on the news...”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Fine.” He turned the tv to cable and went to the local news station. “All I see is they are reporting an accident....”

“Yeah. Doesn’t that look like (y/n)’s car though?” 

Harry’s breath was pulled from his chest as he anxiously waited for the car to be shown. There it was. A black car, he couldn’t quite make out the model but it looked like (y/n)’s. “We are currently awaiting police reports from the incident but can confirm there are two dead, and three that were care flighted in critical condition after the accident occurred. We will have more information for you right after the break.”

“Harry?” Louis’ voice cut through the silence. “It’s probably not her...”

“It was her car. I know it was. I mean I think-”

“Why don’t you come over to Niall’s and we can wait for more news...You shouldn’t be alone.”

“Yeah...yeah okay I will.”

“Alright good. See you soon.” Louis hung up and Harry grabbed his keys, trying to shake the thought from his head. Two dead.....was she one of the two? Was she in the hospital? Was she okay? His heart sank, the feeling of pressure on his chest. She had to be okay.

He drove to Niall’s fast, faster than he should’ve. He almost drove by the accident site, just to confirm if it was her car, but the traffic was lined up miles down the road as they had shut the intersection down due to the accident. He made it to Niall’s and pushed through the door, tears already in his eyes. “Are there any updates?” he sat down on the couch not even looking at Niall and Louis. Louis shifted uncomfortably and looked at Niall who put his head down. Harry looked over at them, his eyes searching for answers.

“Well...they explained that the white car there, they weren’t paying attention or some shit and slammed into the two other cars, the black and the what color is that? Green?” Louis was trying to explain it but Harry could barely listen as they showed the totaled cars.

“Two died so far, the other three are in the hospital with serious injuries.” Niall finished. He looked at Harry and sighed like he wanted to say more but also that he understood the situation and that it wasn’t the time.

“Is (y/n) okay?” Liam came walking in, looking around at the others sitting on the couch. 

“We don’t know...there hasn’t been any news.” Louis said looking at Harry for any sign of emotion. Harry didn’t know what to feel. He felt hollow, like there was nothing left. He felt the way he had when (y/n) had pushed him away at Louis’ the night he tried talking to her. If (y/n) was gone, there was no hope left for him, he wasn’t sure he would ever be okay again without her.

“Well has anyone had any contact with her?” Liam was trying to be logical, trying to debunk the theory that it wasn’t her.

“Niall was the last one who talked to her.” Harry spat, looking at Niall. “He was the one who saw her last.”

“Did she say where she was going?” Liam looked at Niall who shook his head.

“We didn’t- she didn’t- we didn’t really end on the greatest of terms.”

Harry laughed, frustrated with the whole situation. “Of course.”

“What’s that supposed ta mean?” Niall stood up walking towards Harry.

“It means, she came to give you a second chance and you must've fucking blew it.”

“You know why I blew it?” Niall poked Harry’s chest. “Because I told her it was a fuckin mistake to trust you and go back to you after you fuckin cheated on her.”

Harry pushed Niall back, “You know what the mistake was? Trusting you with the sex tape secret. If I had told anyone else we wouldn’t be in this problem.”

“I should’ve told her the minute I found out, then at least her leaving you would've been on account for your actions and not mine.”

“She’s not leaving me.” Harry growled. “We are working things out.”

“Oh yeah?” Niall mocked. “Then why was she here? Why was she trying to talk ta me about the sex tape, about everything that happened?”

“Because she’s a better person than you will ever be. She’s trying to mend the relationship she had with you, so that you two can stay friends.”

“Friends? I wouldn’t say that. I think there’s something more there than she wants ta admit.”

“She told me she thought of you like a brother. Maybe you shouldn’t even get the title of friend though after breaking her down once again..”

“Then why did she let me kiss her huh?” Harry didn’t even say anything, his fist collided with Niall’s cheek, sending Niall stumbling back. Louis grabbed Niall, and Liam grabbed Harry, separating them before anything else could happen. “That’s right. She could be dead and the last person to kiss her was me. How’s that make ya feel Harry?”

“Both of you need to shut the fuck up. This isn’t helping anything.” Liam let go of Harry and stepped between him and Niall.

“Seriously. All that should matter is (y/n).” Louis relaxed his grip on Niall and looked at Harry. “You two need to figure out your differences as well, this is getting old. Niall, (y/n) doesn’t love you the way you love her. It’s been obvious for years and we should’ve said something then. Harry you can’t blame Niall. You can only blame the other car for hitting her, if it even is her we don’t know.”

“Louis’ right.” Liam stepped back. “Niall you kissing (y/n) was just stupid, I mean what did you expect would happen. I think anyone of us would hit you after admitting that. Now you two work this out, Louis and I are going to call and order dinner since this seems like it could be a long night.”

Louis and Liam left the room, leaving Niall and Harry sitting on the couch glaring at each other. Neither wanted to speak first, but someone was going to have to. Niall touched his cheek where Harry had hit him and winced. “It was a good shot.” Niall commented.

“Thanks...been working on it for a while.” 

“I can tell, really got me good. PR is gonna have a fit when it bruises.” Harry laughed and tried to be mad, but Niall sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I only did it to see if there was something there. She pushed me off immediately though, said she only ever loved you. I should’ve accepted it but I pushed her farther and she left upset. It’s my fault she is where she is now”

“No.” Harry shook his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s not mine.” He looked over at Niall. “This was wrong place, wrong time. The rest of the situation doesn't matter. So you kissed her, or got into an argument about me being a dick, you can’t control her, no one can.” Harry laughed lightly. “That’s something I’ve always loved about her. She never does what she’s told. She's too independent for that.” He stood up, pacing the room again, trying to distract himself from the situation.

“She's going to be okay.” Niall stood up and walked over, pulling Harry into a tight hug. Harry felt the tears falling down his cheek, he held tightly onto Niall and nodded.

“Now that’s better.” Louis nodded approvingly.  He carried a couple beers out and offered them up. Niall took one, downing most of it in one sip but Harry pushed the bottle away. He wasn’t in the mood, not when he didn't know where (y/n) was or if she was okay....or alive.

“Have you checked your phone at all Harry?” Liam asked sitting down with a bag of chips. 

Harry looked around and shook his head. “I thought the sound was on and haven't heard anything but I’m not sure...” He grabbed his phone from the floor and looked at it. There were a few twitter notifications but other than that nothing. He dropped it to the couch and stood up. “Should I call the hospital and ask?”

Louis shook his head, “you’re not family, they won’t give you any information even if she is there.”

“Maybe you could call her family?” Niall suggested.

“Who was her emergency contact?” Liam asked, taking another handful of chips from the bag Niall had stolen.

“I was...I’m not sure if she changed it or not...” Harry’s head dropped and he stared at the phone, willing it to give him some kind of answer.

“Check your home camera’s, maybe she made it home and her phone is dead or somethin.” Liam suggested.

Harry pulled up the livestream and shook his head. “She’s not home.” He sighed, “Maybe I should just drive by the scene and explain the situation. They might be able to give me some answ-” Harry’s phone ringing stopped him dead. He stared at the name and wave of relief washed through him when her name popped up. “(y/n), thank god, you had me worried sick.”

“Mr. Styles, this is Officer Watson..” Harry’s heart fell, the phone fell out of his hand and he sat there frozen, unable to answer. Something had happened to her.

Louis picked up the phone, “Hello? Ah, yes, Officer Watson, this is Louis Tomlinson how do you do?” He looked at Harry and then at the others and then at his feet. “Yes, I’ve got Harry here with me...yeah...yeah I do believe that’s correct that he was her emergency contact....” Harry looked up with tears in his eyes and Louis bit his lip. “Is she- is she okay?”

“Put him on speaker mate.” Liam whispered. 

Louis put it on speaker and continued on, “Yeah...yeah we saw there was an accident...is she okay though?”

Everyone held there breath, Harry looked like he was about to pass out, Niall looked sick, and Liam just looked nervous. “Well...the accident was pretty bad, and unfortunately-” Harry broke into a sob, interrupting the answer and Louis shook his head.

“Sorry about that, do continue.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately (y/n) was injured in the accident. She was taken to the hospital unconscious. I don’t have any more information to share with you, but did want to let you know she will be there and that they are accepting Harry Styles, as her medical contact to show up eventually. Sorry to have to inform you of this...if you have any questions contact our department, otherwise, we hope everything works out.”

“Yes...yeah, thank you mate, Harry will be on his way. We will contact you with more questions in the future. Alright bye.” Louis hung up and handed Harry’s phone to him. Harry’s eyes were rimmed with red already, his breathing fast and unnatural. “Harry...” Louis tried shaking him, looking at the other guys for help. “Harry you need to go to the hospital..”

“What if she’s dead?” 

“He said she was alive when she got there, so come on.” Louis grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him up. “If she wakes up alone, she’s going to be scared to death, do you really want that? Do you want her waking up alone?”

Harry shook his head and stood up. “Will...will you guys come as well?” They nodded and Louis grabbed his keys, ushering everyone in the car. 

The drive to the hospital was silent, no one in the mood to talk and the only sound was coming from Harry who holding back sobs. Louis pulled up to the ER and let Harry out so that he could run inside while they parked the car. 

Harry walked up to the desk, wiping his tears and holding his breath, unsure of what he was about to find.”Hi, uhm I’m Harry Styles...my girlfriend (y/n) was brought in here from an accident....the...the officer said that I would be able to come in and and see her....”

The nurse looked up at him with her mouth open, clearly not expecting Harry Styles to walk in. Harry nervously tapped the counter, waiting for her to answer. He wiped a tear that was falling and stared at the girl again. Louis, Liam, and Niall came running up behind him, looking at the girl as well. “Did ya find anythin out?” Niall asked.

“Not yet...” Harry mumbled. “Excuse me...I’m looking for (y/n)...she was brought in by ambulance or or by careful flight im not exactly sure...”

The nurse stared again, looking from one boy to the other, mouth open in shock. Louis was getting impatient, tapping his foot. “Okay. If you won't give us answers we will find someone else.”

“No..No sorry. Uh, yes. (y/n)....(y/n)...ah she came in an hour or so ago with the other victims of the accident. Uh she is still unconscious...” she looked at the boys again. “I have Harry listed as the emergency contact which means he is able to go into the room but until she's transferred out of the ICU, he’s the only visitor allowed. Her room number is 12A. It’s on the left down this hallway.” she pointed to the right and smiled.

“We will wait out in the car for you Harry. Let us know what happens okay?” Liam clapped Harry on the back and pulled him into a hug. The other guys nodded and followed Liam out while Harry moved to the right side of the hallway. 

“12A....12A....” he finally came to the room. The door was closed and lights dimmed. He had no idea what he was walking into but he knew he needed to see her. He pushed open the door, his breath catching as his eyes caught sight of her. She was unconscious...just as the nurse had said, her small frame in the big bed. Her face had a nasty bruise and some cuts, but other than that he couldn’t tell the damage. He sat in the chair next to the bed and gripped her hand, softly rubbing his fingers over the cold skin. She was ice cold. He placed a kiss on her palm and then touched his head to the back of her hand, whispering, “(y/n)....(y/n) if you- if you can hear me....I-I just wanted to let you know I’m here....and I’m not going anywhere.”

---

So I know this seems a little dramatic....BUT I wanted it to be something big that brought everyone back together....ALSO since I’m already on part 7....I figured I would extend the story to make it an even 10 parts...Now the 10th part is actually just going to be the story and all the parts added together in one extra large story so stayed tuned!

Will (y/n) wake up? Will she be okay? Will she remember Harry and the boys? Will they make it through the next hurdle? 

xoxo

[imanerdychubbyqueen]

His Mistake

Angel Reyes x ChubbyBlack/Hispanic Reader!!

Angel sat in his pops truck watching her and the little girl giggling and smiling across the street, he couldn’t believe she was back, he wouldn’t never knew if Louie from Dogwood didn’t tell him. Angel smiled started to form once he heard the little girl squeal, He was debating if he should make a appearance or just stay in the shadows, he wanted to go up to her and apologizes for his actions towards her 2 years ago, but he knew that if he did that she would’ve just grabbed the little girl and ran inside, locking the door, leaving Angel standing out in the lawn beating himself up. Taking a glance at the time on the radio, Angel turned on the truck and starts to drive away, after giving them a glance one more time.

Parking the truck in his pops driveway, Angel turned off the ignition before placing his arm against the car door and leaning his head against his hand. He starts to space off, thinking about their last discussion 2 years ago.

*Flashback 2 years ago*

Y/N stares at her hands waiting for him to say something. Y/N finally took the chance and looked up and saw him stare off in the distance. “Are you going to say anything?” Y/N whispers. “What do you want me to say huh??!! What” Angel barks. “I don’t know , something at least” Y/N huffs. “This should’ve never happened, this cant be happening” Angel fumes. “What do you want me to do” Y/N stands up, fidgeting with her fingers. “She’s pregnant Y/N, She’s having my baby.” Angel admits, looking up at Y/N. “What about me??” Y/N asks. “What about you??” Angel furrows his eyebrows. “I’m having your baby too” Y/N looking at Angel. “No your not, your going to do the right thing and get an abortion.” Angel stands up. “Your joking right.” Y/N sarcastically laughs. “I’m not, to me Adelita is the only one carrying my kid.” Angel looks down at her. “Wow, I can’t believe you.” Y/N scoffs. “Look Y/N you knew your position in this relationship, we were just fuck buddies, nothing more and I don’t want adelita to know about this baby, so do me a favor and get a abortion then we can both move on with our lives. “ Angel handing back her ultrasound, and her test results. “Fuck you angel!!” Y/N snatches her items back from him. Angel sips his beer. “I don’t need you, go and live your precious life with Adelita but don’t be surprised when you find out she isn’t as precious as you think she is, oh and one more thing when you realize that you made a mistake, don’t come crawling back” Y/N says opening and slamming the door. *flasback ending *

Angel was still staring off in the distance, but didn’t see his little brother was at the window trying to get his attention, Angel’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud knocking on the window. Looking over and seeing his little brother Ezekiel aka Ez for short was looking at him concerned, Angel open and closed the driver seat door, before stepping out and shutting the door behind him. “Are you okay??” Ez asks, once Angel was fully out of the truck. “Yeah I’m fine” Angel chuckles patting his brothers shoulder. “You sure?” Ez furrows his eyes brows raising concerned. “Yes, I was in deep thought, when you knocked” Angel sighs. “About what?” Ez still looking at his brother. “Nothing important just Some shit” Angel fake chuckles. The two brothers, walk towards the house, entering through the front door, they see their pops, Felipe sitting in his chair watching some old war movies. Each men, walks over to their pops giving him a kiss on the head before taking a seat on one of the available chairs. Angel was trying to focus on what he’s pops was watching, but it kept coming back to that day he found out that Y/N was right.

*flashback starting*

Angel parks the truck in the driveway of the los Olvidados new safe house, turning off the car, Angel steps out of the truck, closing the door before making his way to the entrance of the front door, but turning he’s head he sees two expensive cars knowing already who they belong to, Angel minds starts to wonder why he was here, knocking on the door he saw that Pablo was the one opening the door. “what are you doing here??” Pablo asks. “Here to see Adelita and my kid, so move.” Angel tries to pass by him. “No you can’t.” Pablo hesitates. “Move.” Angel pushes Pablo out of the way, Angel steps inside the house. Heading towards Adelita room he stops when he sees what’s happening in her room. “What’s he doing here?” Angel questions.”Angel, what are you doing here??” Adelita pales. “Came to see you and the baby” Angel furrows his eyes brows. “Angel, you should go.” Adelita standing up, pushing Ange away. “No it’s time he learns the truth.” The man in the blue suit looking up at Adelita and Angel. “Miguel—please” Adelita begs. “What’s he talking about adelita!!” Angel looks at her, with a conceded expression. “Well you see here, This baby isn’t yours it’s mine” Miguel, placing these baby on the bed, before grabbing the piece of paper from one of his body guards. “Your lying!!”Angel tearing up. “Take a look” Miguel hands Angel the paper. Roughly grabbing the paper out of Miguel’s hands, Angel looks down at the paper, repeating what the paper says out loud, Miguel Galindo Dna matches 99% to Alejandro, and Angel Reyes dna matches 25% to Alejandro. “I can’t believe this.” Angel softy whispers. “Did you know?? That there was a chance the baby wasn’t mine.” Angel looks at Adelita. Adelita looks down at her fingers. Angel turns back around and heads outside the front door, with Adelita chasing behind him. “Angel pleseee listen to me. “Adelita cries. “Fuck you adelita, fuck you I defended you everytime someone told me there was a chance I wasn’t a father I fought them, because I knew in my heart you wouldn’t lie to me but I guess I was fucking wrong, and you know the messed up part is, I told a girl who was pregnant by me to get an abortion so you wouldn’t have to compete with anybody for my attention, because I LOVEDDD YOU!!!!, I RISKED MY WHOLE LIFE FOR YOU NOT JUST ME BUT COCO, GILLY, AND EZ TOOO TO HELP YOU DEFEAT GALINDO BUT I GUESS YOU WANTED TO FUCK HIM TOO!!!! FUCK YOU!!!!. “ Angel shouts before stepping inside the truck and Turning it on and driving away, Angel felt sick to his stomach, I guess to him he’s always going to be second best to somebody.

*flashback ending*

Angel felt tears running down his face, checking if his brother or pops were looking at him, seeing that they weren’t he quickly wiped them away, before focusing his attention on the tv, Angel felt like shit, after finding about the truth of Adelita, that same night stopped by Y/N parents house hoping she was there, but was surely disappointed, when Ez told him that Y/N had move away for college about 6 months ago, he felt his heart breaking if only he could go back in time and fix his mistakes, he couldn’t, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t going to stop trying to fix them. Standing up, kissing his pops head one more time, Angel heads upstairs to sleep in his old bedroom, opening and closing his old bedroom door, taking off his kutte, and placing it on the dresser, Angel sits on his old bed, taking off his shoes, before pulling the covers back and slipping inside the covers, making sure he was fully covered, he turns to his side, before falling asleep.

A knock was heard coming from the bedroom door, waking up, Angel turns his head looking at the clock, seeing its 8:30 am, groaning quietly, Angel threw the blankets off of him, before sitting up and wiping his eyes, to fully wake him up, stretching his body, yawning as his body felt relax, Angel put on his shoes, before getting up front the bed, walking towards the dresser, grabbing his Kutte, and putting it on, before walking towards the bedroom door opening and closing it, Angel heads downstairs to the kitchen. “Good morning sleepy beauty.” Ez smiles, once Angel came into view. “fuck you.” Angel glares. Grabbing a plate from one of the cabinets and throwing some chorizo and eggs and a piece of toast. “You got anything to do today?” Ez asks, taking a seat at the small table in the kitchen. “Yeah, I have to do something before I head to the clubhouse. “ Angel sipping his coffee. “What is it” Ez asks. “Nothing important. I should get going.” Angel stands up throwing his food away and putting his plate in the sink. Heading out of the front door, and grabbing his keys, closing the door, before walking towards his bike and hopping on, putting his helmet on, Angel starts his bike ignition border checking his mirrors and heading towards his densitation. Parking his bike on the sidewalk, Angel takes a deep breath before taking off his helmet and turning off his ignition, hopping off his bike, he starts to make his way towards the front entrance. Once Reaching the front door, Angel takes and exhales a deep breath once again before knocking on the front door. Waiting patiently for 2 seconds before he can hear someone say “I’m coming.”, once he hears the locks unclicking and unhatching before the door opens up, and he felt his nerves run cold in his body, the minute her eyes and his eyes connect.

”Can we talk.” Angel shakingly whispers.

@multiyfandomgirl40 @firebenderwolf @carlaangel86 @thewarriorprincessxo @lady-pswrld