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tobesolonely · 4 years ago

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muse II

A/n: here is the second part of muse!! i had a lot of trouble w the direction i wanted to take this in so pleaseee be gentle with me🥺also big thank you to @harryysstyless and @froggystyles for all the help <3

photographer oc x harry styles

please let me know your thoughts on miss aminah, iman, serena, and harry!

my ko-fi! thank you :)

It had been four days since your encounter with Harry in Malibu. You still haven't texted him.

It’s not like you were scared of him. He was a very nice guy, he proved that to you in the short amount of time you spent with him. Immediately. However, you had no idea how to start the conversation. Should you just text him and say, ‘hey!’? Has too much time passed? What if he wasn’t even interested in talking to you anymore?

Since your beach day with Harry, your roommates would often find you with your phone clutched tightly in your hands as you contemplated for the thousandth time whether you should just suck it up and text him, or leave him be.

“Aminah, he gave you his number and not his manager’s for a reason,” Iman told you, starting to grow a bit annoyed with all your back and forth. “Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position?”

“Yeah,” Serena speaks up. “If you don’t text him then shit, give me his number and I will.”

“What would I even say?” Your mind is beginning to race as you think about all how texting him could go wrong. “I bet he has so many people that text him in the timespan of a day. He probably won’t even see it.”

“You’ll never know unless you do it, will you?” Iman asks. “You know what, Mina? Give me your phone.”

“Iman––”

“Give.”

The stern tone of Iman’s voice tells you she’s not playing around anymore, so you give her your phone (albeit, very reluctantly). She quickly unlocks it and you move closer to her from your position on the couch, straining your neck to see exactly what she was texting Harry. Her thumbs hover over the keyboard for all of two seconds before she quickly types something and presses the little blue up arrow, not giving you much of a chance to tell her not to. She wordlessly places your phone back in your hand.

You let out an audible sigh of relief when you said the only thing she said was, ‘Hey! It’s Aminah :)’

“What did she say?” Serena asks from her position across the room. “Was it bad?”

“She just said hey. I don’t know why I’m freaking out so much,” you confess, turning your phone face-down, setting it on the coffee table. “What if it is his manager and he just put it under his name to make it easier?”

“Why are you like this?” Iman asks. “Is Harry not allowed to think you’re cute? It sounds like you're self-sabotaging.” Serena nods in agreement.

“Where did you get him thinking I’m cute from?” You turn to face Iman fully. She lets out an obnoxious scoff.

“Dude, did you see how interested he was in you at the beach? The way he looked at you?”

“How about how he hung back and walked with you when Iman and I were walking way ahead? Are you kidding, Meens? I don’t believe you’re that oblivious.” Serena adds.

You feel your body heating up. “He was probably just interested because I approached him first. It could’ve been any one of us, yanno.”

Iman rolls her eyes. “He had the opportunity to have any one of us and he gave you his number! Stop acting like people aren’t allowed to find you pretty. You’re a gorgeous, talented Black woman and anyone, celebrity or not, would be lucky to have you!”

“One hundred percent, Aminah,” Serena agrees.

“You guys are just saying that because you’re my friends.”

“Yeah, and friends don’t lie to each other. I’m being so serious-–”

The chime of your text tone interrupts the tangent Iman was about to go off on. Your gaze quickly falls to your phone and then back up to your friends, eyes wide in shock.

“He answered so quickly!” Serena exclaims giddily. “Open it!”

“Hell no,” you say with a shake of your head. “I have my read receipts on, that’ll make me look so desperate if I open it right away!”

“Aminah, stop playing hard to get and just open it,” Serena insists, getting up from her seated position across the room. You quickly reach out and grab your phone off the coffee table before she can get to it first.

“Fine,” you mutter under your breath. “I’ll open it. But I’m going to be the one doing all the talking. Swear I’ll change my password if you guys keep thinking it’s okay to just grab my phone.” You wait for Serena and Iman to promise to leave your phone alone before taking a deep breath and flipping it face-up.

‘Hey Aminah, glad to hear from you.’

The typing bubble pops up immediately after opening the message and before you can exit out, another one comes through.

‘Have a chance to look over those pictures? I’d love to meet up for lunch or something and take a look at them with you.’

“He just asked me to lunch?”

“Give me your phone,” Iman demands, trying to reach for it. You hold it away from her, shaking your head.

“All he asked was if I wanted to meet up for lunch so he could look at the pictures. Like I said, being a photographer is my only advantage here,” you can tell your friends are fighting the urge to roll their eyes at you again.

“You’re gonna say yes, right?” Serena asks. “I mean, why would you say no?”

“There are so many reasons why I would say no,” you reply, staring back down at your screen. “What if it doesn’t go well?”

“Then at least you can say you tried and you won’t spend forever wondering, ‘What if?’” Iman quietly hums in agreement with Serena.

“I think you’ll regret it more if you don’t go than if you do,” Iman says, nodding her head at your phone. “We’re not gonna force you to meet up with him–– but I’m already picking out an outfit for you to wear in my head.”

“You know what? You guys are right,” you look down at your phone which was locked from inactivity. “I’m just gonna do it.” With slightly shaking hands, you text Harry back as your roommates watch over your shoulder:

‘That sounds great! Pick a time and a place and I’m there :)’

Not a lot of things made you nervous. You weren’t nervous when you packed up everything you owned and moved across the country to a city you’d never been to before. You weren’t nervous moving into an apartment with two girls you’d never met in your life. However, you felt like your heart was about to beat out of your chest sitting in the restaurant waiting for Harry.

He’d suggested a place you’d never been to before— a Cuban/Mexican fusion place that he swore had the best fish tacos. You had to beg Iman to drive you to Malibu. She reluctantly took you after you reminded her that she was the reason you were going on this “date” in the first place. Out of fear of being late and keeping Harry waiting, you were painfully early. Your waiter had to have come up to the small table you were sat at in the corner at least three times to see if you were ready to order.

When Harry walked in, he quickly scanned the restaurant before his eyes landed on yours. He pushes his sunglasses atop his head as he makes his way over to you.

“Aminah,” he says cheerily once he’s almost to you. “Been here long? I didn’t mean to keep y’waitin’.” He glances down at his watch, a troubled expression on his face.

“Oh no, you’re fine,” you respond. “I’m just a little early. My roommate dropped me off early because she had to go home and get ready for work.”

“That was nice of her,” he smiles. “So, how about those pictures, hmm?”

You nod, reaching next to you to grab your laptop from its case. “I didn’t do much to them, honestly. Just messed around with the exposure a little bit. They’re nothing special.” You felt the need to create a disclaimer before showing Harry your work. He waves his hand, dismissing your insecurities.

“I have a feeling they came out amazing. You’re incredibly talented,” he says. You raise an eyebrow at him and he immediately turns red, shifting his gaze down.

“How do you know I’m talented if I haven’t shown you anything yet?”

Harry’s quiet for a second before clearing his throat. “I may have… searched you up?”

You can’t help yourself. You throw your head back in the middle of the restaurant, letting out a loud laugh. “You’re serious? You searched me up?”

“Heyyyyy,” he drawls, running his fingers through his hair. “Are you laughin’ at me, Aminah?”

“I just find it a little funny that an actual superstar is Googling me,” you explain. You were trying to resist the urge to burst out laughing again because you could tell he was a little embarrassed.

“Yeah, come off it,” he mutters, a small smile filling his face. “Lemme see those pictures.”

You give Harry a coy smile before opening up your laptop and connecting it to your hotspot. You quickly navigate to the folder you created just for the pictures you took of Harry (with a few of Iman and Serena sprinkled in so he wouldn’t find it weird).

“Like I said, I’m sure you’ve seen better,” you mumble, double-clicking the folder. You turn to look at him as it enlarges on your screen, making the contents of it known. He licks his lip and leans back slightly, squinting his eyes.

“Can y’make that one a bit bigger?” he questions, pointing to a picture of himself. You open up a picture of Harry with his back facing the water, arms spread wide and head pointed up towards the sky. “Quite like how I look in this one.”

“Really?” you give him a quizzical look. “This one was one of my least favorites.”

“Oi,” Harry pouts and places his hand over his chest, feigning offense. “I don’t think I look that bad, Aminah.”

“That’s not what I meant!” you exclaim. Some people turn to look at the two of you and you throw your hand over your mouth, feeling your body heat up. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant the lighting was terrible.”

Harry lightly chuckles. “‘M messin’ with you, Aminah. I think it’s a lovely photo. Would probably look better if I wasn’t in it messin’ up your shot but we’re working with what we have, huh?”

“What do you mean? You look amazing,” you feel the need to reassure Harry even though you’re sure he’d be just fine if he didn’t hear it from you.

“Thank you, Aminah,” he clears his throat and you notice that the tip of his ears is starting to grow red again. “Did you order already? ‘M tellin’ you, those fish tacos are no joke.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Yeah, not a fan of seafood.”

“Really? You seemed excited when I mentioned the tacos when we were texting about where to go the other day! You said ‘sounds good’ with exclamation marks,” he informs you, making eye contact with the waiter who kept checking on you earlier and politely waving him over. As soon as he gets to the table you can tell he knows who Harry is and he looks at you, confusion on his face.

“Can we get two waters, please? Are you ready to order, Aminah?”

“Yeah, can I just get the grilled veggie tacos?” you ask the waiter politely, closing your menu. “Oh, and a side of the plantains too.” He nods and scribbles down your order, turning to Harry.

“For you, Mr. Styles?”

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle. “Uh, I usually go with your guys’ fish tacos–– they’re amazing, by the way…,” he trails off, looking down at the menu. “You know what? I’ll have what she’s havin’.”

The waiter grabs your menus and gives you both a polite smile, telling you he’d be right back with your drinks.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“What’s that?” Harry asks, eyes re-trained on your laptop.

“The ‘Mr. Styles’ thing?”

He looks away from the screen and at you, cracking a small smile. “Not as often as you’d think. Can you make that one bigger?” Harry points a ringed finger to another picture of him. This time he’s sitting on his brightly colored beach towel, leaning back on his hands to support his body weight.

You wordlessly comply, watching the photograph flood the screen as you double-click it. “I like this one the most I think.” You tell him.

“Why’s tha’? Is it cause my face isn’t in it?”

“Stop it!” you whisper-shout, groaning in embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant! I just like how the ocean is out of focus but you’re in focus.”

“Jus’ givin’ you a hard time again, Aminah,” he says with a laugh. “I like this one a lot too.”

You continue like this for what has to be at least two hours, only stopping your photograph inspection briefly when your food comes. You and Harry don’t stop conversing once–– things just flowed so easily with him. You didn’t want the afternoon to end.

“I can pay for my own tacos,” you tell him with a laugh, digging in your bag for your wallet. “They weren’t that expensive.”

“Let me,” he insists, digging in his pocket for his wallet. “‘M the one that insisted we eat here and had ya come all the way from Downtown. It’s the least I can do.”

“Oh shit,” you say quietly, palming your forehead. “I totally forgot I was supposed to request an Uber to get back home. Do you know how much that would cost? I don’t usually use things like this.”

“An Uber?” Harry has a puzzled expression on his face. “I don’t even know if there’s anyone that would be willing to drive from Malibu to Downtown and if they are, it can’t be cheap…”

“I figured it wouldn’t be. It’s just kinda my only option because both of my roommates are at work, so––”

“I could take you home if you’d like?”

“I couldn’t ask you––”

“No, it’s not a problem. If I knew it would be such a pain for you to get home, I definitely would’ve suggested somethin’ closer to you,'' he gives you a dimpled grin. “No worries, Aminah. At least I’ll know for next time.” You smile, looking down at your lap.

“Next time?”

“I mean- well- I- yeah? I had a great time, that’s only if you want to, of course,” he rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish look on his face. “S’also fine if you never wanna see me again. Jus’ tell me to piss off.”

“Do I have the Mr. Styles tripping over his words?” you tease, flashing him a cheeky smile. Harry’s face immediately turns red again.

“Tease me all you want,” he mumbles, signing the receipt the waiter brings back to him. He digs in his wallet and tosses a couple of bills on the table for a tip and you’re not surprised to see they’re large ones. “Do y’wanna get out of here? Someone tipped off the paps.”

“How do you know?”

“That guy sittin’ across the room from us has been sneaking pictures for at least the last twenty minutes.” Harry is very calm when he says this, taking a sip of his water. Your eyes go wide.

“Twenty minutes? Dude, why didn’t you say anything earlier?” you feel yourself growing flustered as you put your laptop back in its case, shoving it in your tote bag.

“Because dude,” Harry mocks, humor lacing his voice. “I didn’t want you to freak out like you’re doin’ right now. It’s no big deal Aminah, I promise. Let’s just get goin’?” Harry’s tone is calm yet firm, but it helps you to relax. If he wasn’t worried about paparazzi seeing you with him, why should you be?

He instructs for you to follow him and to keep your head down, warning you there may be people waiting outside. He thanks the hostess on his way out, grabbing a small handful of mints in the process. Once out the doors you hear a few clicks and shutters of cameras but per Harry’s advice, you keep your head down. Your eyes are trained on his beat-up Vans are you focus on not tripping over your own feet and embarrassing yourself in front of him and a few paparazzi.

“Keep your head down until we’re outta here,” he mutters, opening the passenger door for you. Even when he slams the door shut, you can still hear cameras and feel eyes on you. He gets in the car a few seconds later and immediately starts it, wordlessly looking behind him to make sure it’s clear for him to back out. Once he’s out of the lot you hear him let out an audible sigh of relief. “All good for you to stretch your neck now.” You look up at him, rolling your neck.

“Was worried I was gonna get stuck like that,” you joke. “You handled that really well. I’m impressed.”

“Eh,” he sounds nonchalant. “Been doin�� this for ten years. ‘M used to it. Hats off to you though, Aminah. If I didn’t know any better I would say you’ve dealt with paparazzi before.” You know he’s joking but you still feel your head growing big from the compliment.

“I guess I just don’t wanna see pictures of me all over Twitter later today,” you respond, shrugging your shoulders. “That would be kinda weird.”

Harry lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Trust me, you’ll be seeing yourself later. Not the worst thing fo’ me, though. At least I’m getting photographed next to a beautiful woman.” You glance at him out of the corner of your eye and can see his deep dimples.

“You’re just being nice.” You answer after a moment of silence. Harry hums in response.

“It’s just the truth,” he pauses. “What music do y’like to listen to?”

“I’ll listen to anything. I don’t really have a preference.”

“Do you listen to my music?” Harry diverts his eyes away from the road to look at you. He has an expression on his face that you can’t quite read.

“Against my will, yeah. Watermelon Sugar and Adore You are on everytime I turn on KIIS FM, so…”

“Aminah, you love to hurt me don’t you? You minx,” Harry laughs, shaking his head. “Those songs do get a lot of radio play though, don’t they?”

“I’m joking, Harry! I do listen to your music,” you feel a little embarrassed admitting that because you didn’t want him to think you were like, obsessed, with him. “My roommate Serena is a big fan so I’m always hearing your music around our apartment.”

Harry beams at this. “Well, that’s lovely. I’ll have to remember that when it’s time for my LA shows.”

Los Angeles traffic did as Los Angeles traffic does, and you were stuck in the car for over an hour.

By the time Harry was turning onto your street to drop you off, you were starting to grow anxious. You knew the socially acceptable thing to do when someone drove you around places was offer them gas money, but was Harry expecting that? Would it be rude if you didn’t? Would it be weird if you did?

“It’s coming up on the left,” you say quietly, nodding your head in the direction of your complex. Harry nods and slows down his car, pulling over to the side. He puts his car in park and unbuckles his seatbelt, turning to face you.

“I had a great time today, Aminah. Sorry I had you meet me so far away.” he apologizes.

“It’s no problem,” you assure him. “That place was really good! I’m glad you introduced it to me. I’ll have to go back with my roommates soon.”

“I bet they’ll like it,” he drums his fingertips against the steering wheel. “Can I walk you to your door?”

“You don’t have to, Harry,” you point. “It’s right there, super close. Only if you want to.”

“I want to.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt. “Then sure.”

Harry quickly gets out of the car and runs around to your side, opening your door before you can even gather up your bag. He cautions you to watch your step as you get out of the car and you step out, giving him a small smile. The hot sun beats down on the back of your neck and the top of your head, making you feel even warmer than you were already feeling from the fact that Harry wanted to walk you to your door. He comments on how your apartment isn’t even that far from Malibu but the traffic makes it feel like it’s a continent away, and you nod in agreement.

“Oh, totally,” you reply. “I thought New York traffic was horrible but at least it was really easy to walk everywhere. Everything’s so spread out here.” You abruptly stop walking as you approach the door of your apartment.

“You weren’t kidding,” he laughs. “Your apartment was close by.”

“Yeah…,” you shift from foot to foot, slightly uncomfortable. “I don’t really know the etiquette for this but like, can I offer you some gas money or anything? I just feel bad that you had to go so out of your way.”

“Oh none of that, Aminah,” he has an amused look on his face. “Come on, now. ‘M more than happy to help.”

You smile. “I figured you would say no but I still thought I should ask.” You tuck a flyaway curl behind your ear and look away. Harry clears his throat, looking down.

“Well, I guess I’ll get goin’,” he looks back up at you. “I’ll see you another time then? Hopefully soon?”

“I’d like that,” you respond. “Thank you again for lunch and everything, Harry.”

Harry tells you again that it was his pleasure. As you turn to walk the few steps to your door, he calls out your name. You quickly turn around, eyebrow quirked.

“Do y’think you can send me those photographs you took? I think I look bloody fantastic”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles x oc #harry styles one shot

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wheresmynaya · 3 years ago

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Hate to Date Ch.8 | Brittana

A/N - These next two chapters are probably some of the more difficult ones I've written so far for this story so be gentle LOL. Also, I've noticed readers saying in their reviews lately that these weekly updates are like waiting for a new episode of a fav tv show and I love that. One of the things I miss about Glee or whatever show I’m obsessed with is having something to look forward to each week so I'm really happy this story offers you all that kind of comfort! Hopefully I can keep it up 💙

Before you read on, consider treating your local fav fic writer with a coffee through Ko-Fi!

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

When Saturday rolls around, Santana putters around the apartment attempting to busy herself with meaningless tasks – anything that’ll keep her from anxiously watching the clock. She lounges in her sweatpants and a tank top all day, switching from vegging out on the couch to catching up on some coursework, but it gets harder for her to resist the urge to check the time the later it gets.

No matter what she does, no matter the many distractions she tries piling on – she can’t help but cave.

She can’t help but think about Brittany.

When Puck gets home a little later from hanging out with a couple guys from his team, he finds Santana close to falling asleep on the couch. He takes in the lazy clothes she wears, the messy hair, the sea of snacks that surrounds her and lifts a brow.

“What’s this?”

“What’s it look like?” Santana snarks.

“It looks like you’ve just gone through a rough break up.”

Santana shoots him a look, “I’m clearly having a lazy day.”

He glances from her to the tv screen and back to her again, “Is that what you call it?”

“Yeah,” Santana replies and averts her eyes as she tugs on her blanket. “You can either join or scram.”

Puck rolls his eyes and reaches for the remote. When the screen shuts off, Santana lets out a huff but Puck only crosses his arms.

“What the hell?” She snaps. “I was watching that!”

“So?” Puck challenges.

“So turn it back on.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll kick your ass.”

Puck barks out a laugh, “I’d like to see you try. Go ahead.”

Santana doesn’t move, “I don’t have the energy for this.”

“You’re so damn frustrating,” Puck shakes his head.

The comment makes Santana falter a little; it makes her think about Brittany again, it makes her think about how she let her down, it makes her think about how it made her feel to watch the blonde run away.

But Brittany isn’t here, it’s Puck and Santana knows he doesn’t scare off too easily.

“Just leave me alone,” Santana grumbles.

Of course, Puck doesn’t.

“Are you seriously not going tonight?”

Santana clenches her jaw as the anxious feeling returns. It didn’t take much but she’s wavering and she knows it. Puck probably knows it too or else he wouldn’t be here pressing her buttons still.

“I told you I can’t go,” She tells him defiantly. “I’d only ruin her night. She doesn’t need that, no one does. It’s better if I stay here.”

“Bullshit,” Puck disputes. “You don’t know that.”

Santana stays quiet, she can feel her foundation cracking.

“I do know that,” She says. “You saw how pissed she was when she left. I’d just make things worse if I go.”

Puck sighs tiredly, “Why do you always do that?”

“What?”

“That,” Puck tries to explain. “It’s just like high school – you’re taking yourself out of the game before you even play it.”

That strikes a nerve with Santana, “That’s not what happened and you know it. This is so much different.”

“You gave up then,” Puck tells her. “And you’re giving up now. Why? I don’t know. This should be way easier for you. There’s no scholarship on the line or this big scary secret you need to help hide. You’re not even in love with the girl this time but here you are sitting on the damn bench.”

Santana shrinks back. She doesn’t want to talk about the past, she doesn’t want it mixing in with her present so she deflects, “Can you stop with the ridiculous sports metaphors?”

“No. Now get your ass up,” Puck huffs as he pulls off the blanket Santana covers herself with.

“Goddamn it, Puckerman! Cut the shit!”

“You first, Lopez!”

This time, Santana rises to her feet. She faces Puck head on and glares. Her fists are tight and her chest aches with rage and something else, something she’s tried so many times to push away.

“You know what you have to do,” Puck says. “Stop with the excuses and just go do it already. Quit being a little punk about it.”

“I’m not being a punk,” Santana grumbles.

Puck laughs as he waves his hand at her mess, “All this because Britt finally called you out on your shit? Come on, you’re better than that.”

Santana tenses her jaw again but Puck only softens as he puts his heavy hands on her shoulders, going into total pep talk mode. Santana tries to squirm away, but Puck steadies her like always.

No one would ever expect that this guy, the one with a ratty mohawk, could be the voice of reason for Santana but he’s never failed her before. Just like her, he doesn’t back down. He sticks by her even when she’s being a stubborn dumbass and if anyone needs someone in their life like that it’s Santana.

“I know you,” He says solemnly. “Going to this thing tonight is a piece of cake, all you have to do is quit selling yourself short and go.”

Santana’s shoulders drop even further as Puck continues.

“Prove yourself wrong and kill it,” He says. “You owe it to yourself and you owe it to Brittany.”

There’s an uneasiness still but Santana can’t lie and say Puck’s words didn’t ignite something within her. It goes without saying that his words have had an impact. She bats off his hands and glances at the time, frowning when she sees how late it has gotten.

“I don’t think I can make it in time,” Santana says. “I can’t get ready in forty minutes. My hair alone takes at least an hour.”

“Well what’s that saying?” Puck questions. “Better late than never?”

Santana sighs through a small smile, “I mean, I do like to make an entrance.”

Puck smirks, “Then you better get going.”

Santana’s used to walking into parties like she owns the place, but she finds herself struggling as she approaches the entrance of the Brainiacs’ Ball. She stares up at the prominent steps flanked by solid columns and has never felt so small in all her life. She’s way out of her comfort zone, but she takes the first step anyway.

Slowly, she puts one foot in front of the other. She can feel the low thrum of the bass from the music inside before she can actually hear it. At least that’s something she’s a little more familiar with and with that in mind, she continues her journey.

Maybe Puck was right? This is a piece of cake!

When she reaches the top and looks back, she finds Puck still waiting at the bottom of the stairs watching on like a proud soccer mom. He catcalls at her loudly and it causes the last of the guests making their way inside to stare.

Santana scrunches her face and waves him away, not wanting to be embarrassed by how he sticks out like a sore thumb in his ripped jeans and jersey. He gets the message though and gives her one last round of thumbs up before heading off.

Though she tries to play it off like she can’t stand his dorkiness, she’s thankful for that little bit of extra support and finds enough courage to walk into the building with her head held high.

She might not feel like she owns the place right now, but that’ll change by the end of the night!

Santana knew it was a black tie affair, but she really didn’t expect such extravagance.

There’s a great crystal chandelier hanging from above casting iridescent shadows across the lobby, spotless marbled floors speckled with flecks of gold, the ruby red carpet leading the way into the grand hall where guests dressed to kill mingle with champagne flutes in their hands.

All that’s missing are the annoying paparazzi and the blinding flashes from their cameras and she’d feel like she was at some gaudy Hollywood party.

It’s like she just walked into one of the parties Maribel’s firm throws for holidays and she so wasn’t expecting that. Although she’s been to many of those, she still feels a little out of place as she makes her way through the double doors.

“Good evening,” The doorman greets politely before extending a gloved had to the party. “Welcome to the Brainiacs’ Ball.”

Santana smiles in return and heads in. She tries to keep an eye out for Brittany all while trying to wrap her head around the fact that all of this is in celebration of a handful of academic decathlon clubs.

Who the hell knew they got down like this? Even their DJ has great music playing! Santana’s so surprised, almost distractingly so but then she spots a familiar someone in the crowd.

Brittany

There’s a sudden sense of relief but it’s soon replaced with a frown as Santana finds that the girl isn’t alone. She’s with some tall guy; Santana can’t really see that far to tell who it is or if she knows him. All she knows is that Brittany is standing with him and she’s laughing.

He’s making her laugh.

Santana’s frown deepens before she squints her eyes, trying to get a better look at the guy. Like the others here, he’s dressed to the nines in a dashing suit with his black hair slicked back.

Okay, whatever – he can clean up well. Santana can too! But the important question is, what’s he doing with Brittany?

She ducks behind a vase of flowers, peering through the gaps in the leaves so Brittany doesn’t spot her. She only briefly thinks about how ridiculous she must look before other guests unknowingly happen to block her view.

Frustrated, she tries ducking and dodging them but even in her stilettos she’s just too short. She’ll need to get closer if she wants to see what this guy’s deal is, but as she makes her way over she can’t help but think: did Brittany really replace her?

Surely not, that would definitely raise suspicion. She wouldn’t do that.

Would she?

Suddenly, a waiter dressed formally in a suit and tie steps in Santana’s path. There’s a silver tray full of champagne flutes atop his hand and he looks to Santana expectantly.

“Champagne?”

Santana takes one last look at Brittany and that guy and goes for a glass.

“Yeah, sure.” She takes one and downs it in two gulps.

The waiter raises his brows in awe and quickly goes to turn away, but Santana stops him.

“Hold up,” She says and puts down her empty glass in favor of taking two more. She smiles sweetly at him in thanks before getting her game face on. She finds herself thinking about what Puck said before and starts to fill with confidence – no more sitting on the sidelines for her!

Santana saunters over to Brittany with determination in her eyes.

It’s go time.

“There you are!” Santana greets cheerfully as she reaches Brittany with a champagne flute in each hand. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Brittany stops mid-sentence, her face pale as if she’s just seen a ghost.

“You’re here.”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss it,” Santana replies as she hands her the spare flute before pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. She looks up at pretty blue eyes and adds, “I know how important this night is for you.”

Brittany blinks, it’s like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. Santana thinks she’s off to a good start so far – naturally – and sizes up the guy Brittany was talking to before she came over.

“And who are you?” She asks with a slight bite to her tone as she wraps her arm around Brittany’s waist.

He falters as he looks back and forth between her and Brittany, “I’m Mike.”

Santana lifts her brow challengingly, but Brittany steps in to add.

“He’s a friend of mine.”

Santana continues to stare at the guy, “Friend.”

“Yeah,” Brittany glances at her with slight confusion but it quickly disappears as she slips into character too. “I was just telling him you weren’t feeling too good and that you probably wouldn’t make it tonight.”

“Right,” Santana replies. Her smile turns devilish, “Well I appreciate the concern but I’m all better now, Mike.”

He looks a little nervous but nods, “That’s good to hear.”

“Mhmm,” Santana brings her glass to her lips. She maintains eye contact with him while she threads her fingers with Brittany’s and sips her champagne slowly.

“Well Britt, I’m gonna go,” He says hesitantly to Brittany before jutting a thumb over his shoulder. “I want to make sure we grab a good seat. I’ll see you over at the table.”

“Okay cool,” Brittany smiles. “See you there.”

“It was nice finally meeting you, Santana,” Mike says kindly to the brunette before disappearing into the crowd.

Santana watches him go as she takes another sip. This Mike character really changed up his tune once Santana was around – all nice and polite. He wasn’t fooling her though! Trying to steal her fake girlfriend, not today!

“He’s gone,” Brittany says gruffly. “You can let go of my hand now.”

“Oh sorry,” Santana pulls away and glances in the direction Mike went. “So he’s attractive…what’s he doing at a place like this?”

Brittany doesn’t even smile, “You know not everyone with a brain looks like Steve Urkel.”

Santana doesn’t notice Brittany’s dismissive tone as she looks around. She’s still mind blown by the atmosphere and the people and everything.

“Clearly,” She replies. “I mean, did you see that man’s jawline? I’m a lesbian, but I can still admire a good looking – “

“What are you doing here, Santana?”

Brittany’s curt tone pulls Santana right back to the other day where they sat together at her tiny dining table and she watched as Brittany grew more and more disappointed in her. There’s a hardness to her, an annoyance, that doesn’t go unnoticed. It makes Santana shrink back, that confidence before taking a big hit, but she stands her ground – even if Brittany makes her feel shaken.

“I’m here to be your arm candy,” Santana says in return – attempting to make this exchange lighthearted.

Brittany’s not having it though as she says bitterly, “I don’t need it.”

“Sure you do.”

“No,” Brittany admonishes. “I don’t so you can leave now.”

Santana slips up out of frustration, “Are you really going to make this difficult for me?”

That sets Brittany off once again, the bitterness intensifying.

“Seriously? You did not just ask me that. After everything you said the other night, after the way you just put your foot down and refused to budge? You want to talk to me about being difficult?” Brittany lets out a dry laugh, “You’ve got some nerve.”

Santana cringes as she takes a subtle look around to make sure no one notices them arguing, but no one pays them any mind. It’s a relief, but it doesn’t offer Santana much comfort with the way Brittany’s still glaring at her.

She was a little prepared for the backlash, she just wasn’t sure how bad Brittany’s words would sting. She isn’t used to the harshness in Brittany’s tone and she kind of hates that she’s the reason for it.

Still, she pushes forward. She’s determined to fix this, no matter how hard Brittany fights her.

“Okay,” Santana’s voice is meek. “So that was a poor choice of words... ”

“You think?” Brittany replies, her tone thick with sarcasm.

Santana’s instincts have her wanting to retreat. She has clearly messed up big time and everything in her is telling her to just listen to Brittany and leave – yet her feet don’t move.

Maybe she’s hardheaded, maybe she’s too damn stubborn for her own good; whatever it is, she continues to stand her ground.

“I’m here now,” Santana says earnestly. “That has to count for something?”

Brittany shakes her head, “It doesn’t.”

Santana lets out a laugh out of aggravation. Who knew the girl could be just as stubborn as her? Talk about grudges, no wonder no one ever gets on Brittany’s bad side! It’s damn near impossible to get off of it! But Santana’s made proving she can be there for Brittany her new mission so she’s not going anywhere just yet.

“What do you want me to do?” Santana asks dejectedly. “Get on my hands and knees? Beg for your forgiveness?”

“Save your breath,” Brittany replies briskly as she sets down her glass. “I don’t want to be here with someone that would rather be elsewhere and I’m tired of trying to force you to care.”

That one surprisingly hurts a little more than Santana expected, but it doesn’t top the feeling that quickly follows as she watches Brittany begin to turn her back on her.

“Brittany,” Santana finds herself calling out. When the blonde doesn’t stop, Santana calls out to her again. “Britt – “

“No,” Brittany pauses as she looks over her shoulder at Santana. “You were right. You’d just ruin my night. Go home, Santana.”

It’s another blow to the chest as the blonde turns to walk away again. Only this time, Santana kicks into gear. She’s got something to prove and she’s not leaving until she does! She quickly sets down her glass too and reaches out, catching Brittany by the wrist before she gets too far.

“Can you just wait?” Santana pleads.

“What?” Brittany snaps back.

Santana softens as she tucks her tail between her legs, “I’m sorry.”

Brittany looks a little taken aback by the relaxing of her tensed jaw, but it only last for a moment as she looks down at Santana’s hand still around her wrist.

“Okay, great,” Brittany says sarcastically. “Now let me go.”

Brittany doesn’t wait for Santana to loosen her grip and instead shakes Santana off of her. The brunette doesn’t try reaching for her again, but she does take a step closer.

“Hold on,” Santana urges again. “I’m not finished.”

Brittany pauses, taking a wary look back her. Santana can see that she’s wearing her down, but who knows how long it’ll last. There’s no reason for Brittany to give her another chance after having so many, so she has to make this count.

“I thought about what you said,” Santana tells her. “Like I really, really thought about it and I think you might be right.”

Brittany remains looking indifferent and that makes Santana nervous, but she continues on.

“You’re right about this being one sided. You’re right about you putting in most of the work and doing things that benefit me,” Santana says. “You’re right about it all – minus one thing.”

Brittany quirks her brow, “What’s that?”

“I’m not selfish.”

“No?” Brittany scoffs. “Then you must not know the meaning of the word because your past actions would say otherwise.”

Santana sighs, “Yeah, I know but I guess that’s why I’m here…to prove that you’re wrong.”

Brittany softens in the slightest as she listens.

“I haven’t been fair to you,” Santana explains. “You always go above and beyond. I mean, you climbed through a window for me and you’re learning Spanish to get on Abuela’s good side! Like what the hell? Who does that?” Santana pauses when she realizes she’s veering from her point.

“I know I’m still not on your level when it comes to doing the most,” She continues. “But I figured it’s only fair that I do something that I normally wouldn’t just to show you that all you do isn’t for nothing. By coming here tonight, I’m trying to return the favor. This is my metaphorical window and I want to climb through it for you.”

Santana pauses when she realizes how lame she sounds, but maybe this huge fuck up calls for a little lameness. Maybe a lot; whatever works at this point!

Brittany watches Santana for a moment as if she’s trying to decide whether or not Santana’s words have any weight to them. It isn’t the first time she’s said she’d do better, so it’s no surprise Brittany isn’t as quick to accept her apology.

“I don’t really know if I believe you,” She finally says. Her tone has lost most of its bite but Santana knows she’s not in the clear just yet.

“That’s fine,” Santana replies. She stands a little taller, puffs out her chest and says, “I’ll just have to spend all night trying to convince you. You want a perfect fake girlfriend? Well Britt-Britt, you’ve got one.”

There’s the slightest hint of a smile that graces Brittany’s lips and it makes the dimming beacon of hope in Santana begin to shine a little brighter.

“That is,” Santana adds. “If you want me to. I know this night is important for you. I can go if that’s what you really want.”

She bats her eyelashes for the extra touch – because if after all of that Brittany still makes her leave…well that would just be embarrassing. Surprisingly though, it makes Brittany’s smile grow. Santana can tell she’s fighting to keep it small, fighting to keep from giving in, and she takes that as a personal victory.

“You can stay,” Brittany says after making Santana wait a little longer.

Santana beams, “Okay gre – ”

“For now.”

“Okay,” Santana’s grin softens. “I can handle that.”

“I don’t want to fight with you here,” Brittany tells her firmly. “I only want to have a good time and if you try to mess that up then you’re out of here.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Santana replies.

Brittany holds out her pinky, “Promise?”

Santana eyes her skeptically, “Are you trying to make me pinky promise? What are we twelve?”

“It’s a yes or no question,” Brittany replies flatly – still holding out her pinky.

“Promise,” Santana sighs and curls her pinky around Brittany’s.

Satisfied, Brittany nods and pulls away. While Santana chuckles, she looks over to the direction Mike left.

“So I guess you can go ahead and tell Hot Stuff over there that he doesn’t need to be coming around here anymore too.”

That pulls a genuine laugh out of Brittany who can’t help but smirk at Santana’s comment.

“Shocking; you’re the jealous type.”

Santana lifts her brow, “I’m not. I’m just saying – his assistance as interim date is no longer required if I’m here.”

“I said you can stay for now. I can change my mind at any time.”

Santana’s shoulders droop as she’s once again put back in her place. Brittany notices and smirks.

“He has a date already,” Brittany continues. “His girlfriend. You know her. Tina?”

Santana’s jaw drops a little, “No shit, really?”

“Yeah, they’ve been together for awhile now.”

“Wow, I had no idea. Well good,” Santana lifts her chin. “He can carry his fine ass on over to her and stay there then.”

“You’re really hung up on how people can be both smart and hot,” Brittany points out with a laugh. “Like you and I aren’t also examples of that being a thing.”

“Hold up,” Santana starts to smirk. “Did you just say I’m hot?”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “I mean, you do look nice.”

Santana frowns, “Just nice?”

Brittany eyes her up and down slowly before shrugging, “Yeah, nice. I’m actually surprised you didn’t wear one of your stripper dresses. Guess you won’t be making it rain tonight.”

Santana lets out a laugh. She’s glad Brittany’s back to bantering with her instead of the heavy intensity from before. Maybe they’re not completely back on good terms, but at least it’s better than what it was.

“We’ll see. Those moves are for later,” Santana winks jokingly before giving her compliments. “You clean up pretty good too. I like what you’ve done with your hair. It’s cute.”

Brittany gets a little bashful as she fluffs her softly tussled hair, “Thanks.”

Santana only nods, “Now where’s this elusive open bar I’ve heard so much about? I needs me something other than champagne.”

“Ah, so that’s the real reason you’re here,” Brittany quips.

Santana feels like Brittany’s testing her although her tone remains playful.

“Yeah, but I’m mostly here for you,” Santana replies super sweetly. “I mean, how can I say no to an open bar? I am a broke college student after all.”

Brittany chuckles, “I see your priorities are straight.”

“It’s the only straight thing about me,” Santana jokes before hooking her arm with Brittany’s.

After getting their drinks, the couple roam around the room arm in arm. It’s mostly to keep up appearances; a way to make up for Santana arriving late and to show that Brittany really isn’t here all alone.

She’s surprised by how many come up to greet them – well, greet Brittany. Santana guesses the blonde really is a big deal here after all and everyone happily chats away with her. Who can blame them though? Brittany’s probably the friendliest person Santana knows.

They bump into Mike and Tina again near the giant owl ice sculpture while they make their rounds – because yeah, of course this party has one of those – but the conversation is kept brief with Tina trying to get in as many interviews with everyone before dinner.

Mike tags along after her with a proud smile on his face as he offers to hold her drink and for a second Santana kind of feels a little guilty about having her claws out when they first met. He seems kind, happy to be alongside Tina and Santana finds herself wondering if people get that vibe when she’s with Brittany.

While Santana and Brittany linger by the ice sculpture, Santana notices a small group of people that look a lot like the guys from Brittany’s team. At least the one in the center of it all is for sure. They stick out to her because they’re probably some of the lasts who haven’t come to greet Brittany which seems odd considering she’s their teammate.

Wouldn’t they have been the first to see her? Maybe Santana missed that part since she arrived late, then again judging by how they seemed to shun her at the match they probably haven’t come to say hi on purpose.

Santana quietly watches them though as Brittany chats with another guest about robotics or whatever nerdy talk that goes completely over Santana’s head. She notices how they all gravitate to the one guy in the center and it’s like they hang on his every word. They laugh when he does, they nod when he nods – they’re puppets and he’s the puppet master.

Santana doesn’t realize she’s pulling a face until Brittany bumps her with her elbow.

“Quit it,” Brittany chastises. “People can see you.”

“My bad,” Santana fixes her face and gestures over to the group. “He’s on your team, right? The one in the dusty grandpa sweater.”

Brittany glances in the direction and nods.

Santana wrinkles her nose, “He seems like a tool.”

“He’s not,” Brittany’s quick to defend before softening. “Not really.”

Santana doesn’t looked convinced so Brittany adds.

“He’s a pretty big deal to this community. People say he has one of the most gifted minds in our generation.”

Santana picks up on Brittany’s tone, but she can’t tell whether it’s envy or something entirely different. She knows one thing is for sure though.

“People say that about you too,” Santana tells her honestly. “The whole gifted mind thing.”

Brittany shakes her head and looks to the ground, “No they don’t.”

Her dismissiveness confuses Santana. She’s never not seen Brittany confident in how intelligent she actually is. If there’s one thing Santana knows the blonde is sure about, it’s her smarts. They argue about it all the time! That’s the very foundation of their rivalry, but apparently here that’s not the case.

“Word about his work has travelled all the way to MIT,” Brittany adds. “It’s so impressive.”

“And yet, he never went there. You did,” Santana reminds her as she continues to stare down the guy. She glances to Brittany again skeptically, “Or is he a transfer too?”

“He’s not. But I’m sure he would’ve gotten in easy. His work is…it’s legendary.”

Santana watches Brittany, trying to figure her out. It sounds a lot like admiration rather than envy, but why? How great can this guy possibly be if he has Brittany doubting herself?

“I didn’t know you were such a fan,” Santana comments.

“I just admire him is all,” Brittany says, confirming Santana’s thoughts.

Santana still doesn’t get it though and frowns around the word, “Admire…”

The both of them watch the man chat with the others silently for two very different reasons. The longer Santana stares, the more she kind of wants to punch him. He just has a very punchable face she supposes, especially when he laughs louder than anyone else in the room.

The sound makes Santana grit her teeth while it has the opposite effect on Brittany.

“He’s kind of cute too,” The blonde admits.

“Cute?” Santana raises both brows and laughs. “We looking at the same guy?”

Brittany shrugs, “He’s cute in that boy next door kind of way.”

“Seriously?” Santana snickers. “That Mike guy was kind of cute. Him? He ain’t it.”

Brittany suddenly hardens, “Well it doesn’t matter what you think. Does it?”

Santana’s taken aback.

“It’s not always about looks,” Brittany further chastises. “There’s more to people than that.”

Santana keeps quiet and nods, not wanting to piss Brittany off again. Afterall, her presence is completely dependent on whether or not Brittany wants her around. She can revoke the privilege at any second and Santana would hate to be kicked to the curb because she once again can’t keep her opinions to herself.

“What’d you say his name was again?” She asks a moment later.

“Artie.”

Suddenly something clicks. She remembers the conversation she had with Brittany’s parents at Brittany’s last match and the comment about someone named Artie.

“So that’s who your parents were talking about,” Santana hums.

“Wait what?” Brittany whirls on her. “I’ve mentioned him like twice. What’d they say?”

Santana shrugs, “They said dating me is an upgrade.”

Brittany gives her a look and slumps, “They didn’t say that.”

“No, but it’s true.”

“They clearly don’t know you well enough.”

Santana cringes, “Hey, I’m trying. At least I’m not a tool like that guy.”

“Debatable.”

“Rude.”

They settle into silence again. Santana goes from scanning the crowd to glancing Brittany’s way. She notices how the blonde continues to gravitate towards Artie too, just like one of his puppets. Santana finds it so odd and the curiosity begins to get the better of her.

“So what’s your deal with him?” She asks. “He an ex I need to worry about?”

“No. It’s nothing like that,” Brittany replies.

Santana doesn’t believe that for a second though.

“I sense a story.”

“There isn’t one,” Brittany says with a shrug. “We were friends and now, I don’t know what we are. Things got weird after I was asked to join the robotics team and he wasn’t. We used to study all the time together, but after that happened he kind of kept me at a distance.”

Santana struggles to mask the disdain she has for this guy. He really is a tool if that’s how he acts. But she fights the urge to speak on it, sensing Brittany still has some kind of connection with him.

“Do you like him or something?” Santana wonders.

Brittany shrugs again, “It’s complicated. We’ve got history I guess.”

Santana nods; she can oddly relate to that.

“You know, he was the first friend I made here?” Brittany smiles at the memory. “I was so freaking nervous – you know, new campus and all. I spent extra time trying to get my bearings the day before but I still ended up getting lost on my first day. Artie was the one who took the time to show me around.”

Santana quirks a brow at that, but notices Brittany’s melancholy even more.

“Don’t tell Tina that,” Santana tries to joke. “We’ll have some conflicting stories.”

When Brittany barely gives her a smile, Santana tries again.

“I thought Puck was the one who showed you around?” Santana asks. “That’s how you guys became friends?”

“He was, but Artie was the first.”

“Huh,” Santana glances at the guy and laughs. “He must not have done a very good job then if you still ended up getting lost.”

This time there’s a small that graces Brittany’s lips, but it’s not nearly as big and bright as Santana’s used to. She’ll just have to try harder.

“He also introduced me to the Brainiacs,” Brittany tells her. “It was pretty cool of him. When I was at MIT, it was hard to get into any clubs. Everyone was kind of cliquey, so it was nice to see that things were different here. Everyone on the team was super accepting at first.”

“At first?” Santana questions.

“Yeah,” Brittany starts to frown. “When I first joined, the team was mostly girls and they were really great – super smart and so lovely – but they graduated last year. Now the dynamic’s changed a lot because of all the new people who seem to worship Artie. That’s probably part of the reason for his ego boost.”

Santana turns up her nose at that, but Brittany’s quick to return to the positives.

“But when it’s just us, he’s not so bad. He really looked out for me when I first came to Columbia. He introduced me to the Brainiacs and recommended me for the tutoring gig,” Brittany tells her. “We used to work together all the time until I got into this fake relationship with you.”

“Sorry not sorry,” Santana quips, but Brittany doesn’t really laugh at that. So Santana softens, a little intrigued by Brittany’s past, “So after all that time spent together, nothing ever happened between you two?”

“No,” Brittany replies. “I don’t think it ever would anyway.”

“Because you’re taken or…”

Brittany sighs at the joke, “Like I said, things got weird after I joined the robotics team. It was like the first time I did something for myself without his help or recommendation and I guess it rubbed him the wrong way?”

“You’re friends, aren’t you?” Santana questions. “Why would he feel some type of way about you branching out?”

“I don’t know,” Brittany shrugs. “Maybe I’m looking too much into things? Maybe he really doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

Santana shakes her head and stares at Artie again, “Well it looks like on top of being a tool, he’s an idiot too.”

Then almost as if he was summoned, Artie looks their way.

Santana finds herself straightening up, trying to stand taller, trying to seem more intimidating, but it doesn’t look like it deters the guy as he begins his journey over.

“Brittany,” Artie greets with a nod. “Hi.”

Brittany smiles, “Hey Artie.”

He then looks to Santana and gives her a curious look full of judgement. It has Santana clenching her teeth, trying her hardest to maintain character when all she wants to do is roll the guy into the giant owl ice sculpture.

“Who’s this?” He asks Brittany as if Santana can’t hear.

Santana breaks slightly and scoffs, “You know how I am.”

Artie raises his brow and looks expectantly to Brittany.

“This is my girlfriend, Santana,” Brittany introduces. “I’ve mentioned her to you before.”

“Right,” Artie looks to Santana again. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

Santana stares back challengingly, “I bet your hear that a lot.”

Artie sits back in his chair with this smug look on his face, “Funny. She’s funny.”

“It’s one of my many top notch qualities,” Santana fires back before looking to Brittany. Her arm goes around her waist, “Ain’t that right, babe?”

It takes a moment for Brittany to play along, but then she’s smiling and melting into Santana’s side, “Yeah. Totally.”

Artie only eyes the two though, out of suspicion or jealousy – Santana’s unsure. She’s hoping for the latter, because it seems like no one’s ever put him in his place before. Santana’s just the girl for the job!

“So do you think the team is going to get the top spot, Artie?” Brittany asks, trying to keep things light. “It was a lot of close matches this year, I hope our percentage is enough to pull us through.”

Artie shakes his head, almost like he’s disappointed. “I don’t know. Several of those matches shouldn’t have been that close. You really should’ve spent more time studying.”

Santana’s brows rise, but she remains quiet – looking to Brittany to see her reaction. To her surprise, the blonde looks just as remorseful.

“Yeah, you’re right. I think I was having an off day.”

“I think you had a lot of those,” Artie quips. “Too busy with the robotics team maybe?”

Santana scoffs, “Is he joking?”

But Brittany doesn’t say anything so Santana keeps quiet too.

“Some competitors take a little while to warm up,” Artie continues. “You just aren’t a seasoned contender like I am. You know I hold the record for fastest buzz in during my rookie season?”

“I know.”

“No one’s come close to beating it,” Artie flaunts. “We might’ve made state if you didn’t botch the science round during the last match. Maybe I should’ve taken the turn instead.”

Brittany nods and Santana can tell she’s trying to take his criticism constructively – only problem is that it’s not constructive at all. It’s completely condescending and uncalled for.

“Hold up, no,” Santana finds herself interrupting which seems to surprise the pair. “Brittany killed it during the finals or whatever you call it. She was buzzing in when no one else on your little team was. Not even you knew those answers, so what I think you need to be doing is thanking her.”

“For what?” Artie challenges.

“For carrying the team obviously. No way you would’ve gotten far if it wasn’t for her.”

Brittany looks a little shocked by the way Santana stands up for her, but Santana barely notices – too busy willing Artie to step out of line again.

And he does, with an arrogant laugh, he brushes Santana off.

“But the time it took her to buzz in is what we lose points for,” Artie explains. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand how academic decathlons work. They’re not like your cheerleading competitions, we actually have to use our brains.”

“Artie,” Brittany chastises but he’s unfazed.

Meanwhile Santana’s eyes are wide with surprise. The nerve, the audacity – it’s unbelievable!

“I’m sorry,” Santana starts to lean forward, getting down on his level. “Are you jealous that you can’t possibly possess both brains and brawn?”

Artie shifts in his chair and tries to evade Santana’s eye, but she’s so close now that he can’t avoid her.

“Or do you feel threatened by it?” Santana presses. “Threatened because this cheerleader’s GPA is something you’ve only dreamt of having and I didn’t have to waste away in a musty old library to get it? Tell me, Wheels, who was it again that was on track to be valedictorian until Brittany came along because I don’t remember seeing your name anywhere on the list.”

Artie’s face goes a little red that time; out of embarrassment or anger, Santana doesn’t care. All she cares about is making sure that he knows he isn’t shit and there’s no way he’ll talk to Brittany like that while she’s around.

There’s only one person in the world that can pick on Brittany and that’s her.

“The keyword is was,” He retorts.

“The keyword is you’re a prick,” Santana bites back just as fiercely.

“Okay,” Brittany cuts in. She gives Santana a little tug until she can curl an arm around her waist, “I think that’s enough of that.”

Artie continues to look shaken, but he does his best to mask it. Trying to be as macho as he can while in that turtleneck sweater he must’ve stolen from his grandfather’s closet. Safe to say it doesn’t fool Santana one bit.

“Well, I can see why you like her, Britt,” Artie comments with a glance in Santana’s direction. “She’s fiery.”

“She’s also this close to going all Lima He– “

“Santana,” Brittany scolds again.

There’s a pleading look in her eye that has Santana softening. She remembers what Brittany said earlier about tonight being fun and not wanting to fight, so Santana let’s Brittany pull her back. She settles, but it feels like it’s only the calm before the storm.

Artie notices too and puts on a smug grin, “Come to think of it, I have heard your name floating around on campus. Santana Lopez; the girl can’t be tied down to save her life.”

“Well Brittany’s changed that,” Santana quips. “Hasn’t she?”

“Hmm,” Artie nods but the stare he gives her is almost analytical. “It’s not really a pairing I would’ve pictured considering your history.” He then looks to Brittany and frowns, “I’m pretty sure you once told me that she couldn’t possibly have any redeeming qualities.”

Santana tries looking unfazed, but she can’t lie and say that comment didn’t sting. One look at Brittany and she can sense the guilt, but she keeps it hidden from Artie. Santana can’t hold it against Brittany though if she did say something like that about her, there’s been many times she’s complained about the blonde to Puck too.

But that was before they got to know each other, that was before they had to work together to emulate this perfect couple.

“Looks like I was wrong about that,” Brittany replies behind a smile that’s directed at Santana. She squeezes a little at the brunette’s waist, “Who would’ve known, opposites really do attract?”

Santana chuckles, remembering saying something similar during a conversation with Tina months ago.

“It sure took me by surprise,” Santana adds before glancing to Artie. “Guess I have some pretty redeeming qualities after all.”

Artie hums again with this contemplative look on his face, but he doesn’t rock the boat any further. He just nods and says, “Well this was fun. I guess I’ll leave you two to enjoy the Ball.”

Santana sneers at him while Brittany bids him goodbye.

“Oh. By the way Britt,” Artie pauses and glances back. “You look really great.”

Santana raises a brow at the compliment.

She wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but there’s the slightest little smirk on his dumb face as he says it and it has Santana feeling hot. Even if Brittany isn’t her actual girlfriend, what the hell? Who compliments another person’s date right in front of them? It seems as though Artie knows exactly what he’s doing, but given her promise to Brittany she’ll bite her tongue – for now.

While Brittany ducks her head in thanks, Santana stays quiet – waiting until Artie is out of sight before she can finally let down her guard and say what’s really on her mind.

#hate to date #brittana #brittana fanfiction #enemies to lovers #fake dating au

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blackhakumen · 3 years ago

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Mini Fanfic #850: Texting My Boyfriend (SSBU X Wario Ware)

Lucas: So how's the video game programing is coming along for you guys so far?

Ashley: It's going smoothly as of right now.

Ashley: We were suck into an handled console and had get rid of a few glitches ourselves.

Ashley: It was a hectic experience to say the least.

Lucas: I'll say.....

Lucas: I hope you guys aren't hurt....

Ashley: All of us are fine for the most part.

Ashley: Wario, on the other hand, was throwing a hissy fit not too long

Ashley: Apparently it has something to do with some real treasure not being in the game or whatever.

Lucas: That's sounds like Wario alright lol.

Lucas: Still, I'm glad you all are safe.

Ashley: Thank you. (✿^‿^)

Ashley: But what about you, Lucas? Are you doing okay back at the mansion?

Lucas: Yeah. I'm doing great actually.

Lucas: I spent the day with Big Sis Ann and Big Sis Shiho yesterday and it was so much fun.

Ashley: That's good to hear.

Ashley: What are you guys doing right now?

Lucas: Watching Ren and the others play Mario Party in the living room.

Lucas: I think Ryuji's winning.

Lucas: Nevermind. Futuba just stole two his star on Chance Time lol.

Ashley: Lol is that so?

Lucas: Yep. And now he's crying on the floor as we speak lol.

Lucas: Skull's Ultimate Defeat.jpg

Ashley: You know, in hindsight, it kind of makes me feel bad for him.

Lucas: Yeah, but I'm sure he'll be fine. He's one of the toughest guys I know after all.

Ashley: I suppose you have point there.

Ashley: Still, I'm glad you all are having a good time with one another.

Lucas: I am too.

Lucas: Though, if I'm being honest, It would be a lot more funnier if you were there too....

Ashley: You really miss me?

Lucas: Yeah! I've started missing you ever since you first left.

Lucas: I mean, I know you're able to take care of yourself and everything, but... I guess none of that didn't really stop me from thinking about you entirely lol.

Ashley: Oh you poor thing~ I'll be sure to make it up to you as soon as I return back to the mansion tomorrow.

Lucas: That's so sweet of you, Ashley. But you really don't have to do all of that for me.

Lucas: Seeing you again would be good enough for me already.

Ashley: True, but this is a matter of me wanting to do this for me. Given that you are very precious to me in every way~ ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

Lucas: You're very precious to me in every way too, Ashley!~ Thank you!~ (✿^‿^)

........................................................

Ashley smiles brightly at the recent text message Lucas gave her as she begins to text him back. That is until......

??????: Hi, Ashleyyyy!~

Ashley gets startled by the two voices calling her name before immediately hiding her phone behind her back, turning around and see that it was none other than Mona and Penny Crygor.

Ashley: ('Sigh') It's just you two....What is it?

Penny: (Smiles Brightly) Sorry for barging in on your alone time!~ Pizza just arrived and we were gonna tell you to come get some before Wario starts eating them all.

Mona: (Smirks Playfully and Teasingly at the Young Witch) That is until we noticed you texting a certain someone on your little phone~ Now we wants details~

Ashley: (Already Giving the Duo an Annoyed Glare) ................

Penny: Pleeeeeaseee tell us~ We promise to keep it a secret if you do.

Mona: (Pulls Out her Pinky Along) We'll even do a pinky swear to prove our point.

Penny: (Nodded Rapidly While Having her Pinky Out as Well)

Ashley: ('Sighs in Defeat') Fine. (Crosses her Pinky Together With Mona and Penny Separately) You better keep your word on this.

Penny: Promise!~

Mona: Now tell us who you were texting!~

Penny: Is it the Lucas boy you told us about?

Ashley: (Simply Nodded) Yes. It was Lucas. I....(Starts Blushing While Looking Away) I wanted to make sure he was doing okay back at the mansion.

Mona/Penny: (Gushes Towards Ashley While Clamping Their Hands Together) AWWWWWWWWW!~ That's so sweet!~

Ashley: (Sighs While Rolling her Eyes) It is.... He's doing fine in case you're wondering.

Mona: (Smiles Brightly) That's good to hear.

Penny: (Happily Nodded in Agreement) Definitely. I wish we can all meet him soon. He sounds like a really nice boy.

Ashley: He is. Very much so. (Starts Pouting) In fact, he would've been right here with us days ago if Wario didn't start rushing me out of the door in the last minute.......

Penny: (Sighs While Facepalming Herself) Ah geez....Leave it to Wario to be impatient for everything....

Mona: ('Sigh') Yeah. Especially when riches are involved....(Smiles Softly at Ashley) How about we schedule for a proper meet up in the future?

Penny: (Smiles Brightly) That sounds like a great idea! There's like so many things we can do together in Diamond City. I can't even choose which one to do first!~

Mona: We have all the time in the world to decide all of that before that time comes. (Turns to Ashley) That is, if all of this is alright with you, of course.

Ashley: (Simply Nodded I'm Agreement) It is.

Mona/Penny: Woo-Hoo!~/Yes!~ (Happily Gave Each Other High Fives)

Ashley: But only on two conditions!

Mona: (Comes Back to Reality) Oh! Uh...(Giggles a Bit Awkwardly) Yeah. Sure.

Penny: What are the conditions, chief?

Ashley: Well, for one, could you please tell everyone else to try and tone down their overly energetic behaviors? I know it's mostly your whole thing or whatever, Lucas is a very shy boy and I don't want him to get scared off too easily.

Penny: (Already Writing it Down on her Notepad) Tone down.... hyperactive behaviors.....Got it.

Ashley: And second.....Make sure Wario behaves and doesn't screw it up for everyone. (Puts on a Dark Glare on her Face) I would hate to have to hex him for all eternity if that were to come to wishing......

Penny: (Already Shivering in Fear) S-S-Scary.....

Mona: (Smiles Sheepishly at the Small Witch) I don't think that'll be necessary, Ash.... I'll make sure the bug guy is on his best behavior. You have my word.

Ashley: (Stares at the Duo For a Brief Second Before Sighing Once Again) I'll take your word for it..... (Smiles a Little) Thank you for doing this me. It....kind of means a lot that you cared.

Penny: (Heart Begins to Melt in Pure Happiness) Awww~ You don't need to thank us for of that. (Makes Her Way to Ashley and Hugs Her) That's what friends are for.

Mona: (Joins in on the Hug as Well) Penny's right, kiddo. You know we'll always have your back no matter what kind of help you need, right?

Ashley: I know. (Starts Blushing a Little) But I still appreciate you all for being my friends..... Except for Wario. He sucks.

Mona: Oh come on. Wario isn't that bad once you get to know him a little more.

Ashley: Mona, he tries scamming us out of money every chance he gets.

Penny: Yeah....I'm gonna have to agree with Ash here. He is pretty greedy.

Mona: Well....Yeah. But....('Sigh') I dunno. At....least he's making an honest work? (Shrugs While Smiling Awkwardly)

Penny: Ehh......

Ashley: Doubtful.

Mona: Look, just have more faith in him, okay? I know he has a heart inside him......Somewhere.

Ashley: I don't wanna know where it is.

@keyenuta

@caleb13frede

@ma-lemons

@26shann

@cyber-wildcat

@italian-love-cake

@albion-93

@princekirijo

#super smash ultimate #warioware #ashley (warioware)#mona (warioware)#penny crygor #lucas #wario (mentioned)#ann (mentioned)#ryuji (mentioned)#shiho (mentioned)#futuba (mentioned)#text message #lots and lots of fluff here #cute romance #pure friendship #a bit of humor #lucas x ashley #edited

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themafia-terrapins · 3 years ago

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“A Shot In The Dark” - Closed RP

Continued from here: X

Raphael usually preferred something a little stronger in his beer but he settled for the drink nonetheless, gently lifting it from the plate. A jangle from the shop indicated someone’s presence and by the footsteps, he easily identified who it belonged to.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Taking a sip of the drink he allowed it to wash over his tongue as the two intruders came in sight. His youngest brother and his assistant/close companion, Grayson.

“Well I shouldn’t be surprised to see you drinking away your emotions, should I?” Mikey sighed, taking a seat opposite him while Grayson took place on the next seat.

“So what’s the damage, Gray?” Ignoring the snide comment from Mikey, amber eyes settled upon the human instead.

“Your brother is furious you’re gone and you’e also missed several meetings today. There’s one tonight, in around 30 minutes” He talked, looking over his notebook. Raph nodded to what he was saying but truth be told, the words simply went in one ear and came out the other. He was more so interested in the bar itself, how they seem to be treating the employees. Mainly the women.

And a woman in particular, his waitress, seating another table. It was the way they leered at her, filthy hands touching her skin making his hands itch with the need to punch the fool. His skin felt hot, anger pulsating through his veins at the audacity of this man. His laugh made Raph want to rip out his vocal chords and strangle him with it. Taking a breath, he controlled his wild thoughts.

Ya don’t even know this person, calm tha’ fuck down

He fell in easy conversation with Grayson and Mikey before a familiar scent filled his senses again. It was sweet without being overbearingly heavy on the nose, it smelt comforting.

Why can’t I figure you out?....What is it about you?

The table fell silent, awaiting his response but he hadn’t the faintest clue on what was just said. He was in deep within his thoughts, he hadn’t even realised she said something. Instead Mikey piped up, to which he was both grateful and annoyed for.

“Tomorrow won’t work out but the day after, I’m sure he’s free.... aren’t you, brother?” There is a teasing tone in his voice, one that Raph could completely strangle him for.

“Yeah... I’ll have ta check my schedule-” He began but was promptly cut off again but Mikey’s irritable voice. “Actually, me, Don and Leo are also available too. I hope that won’t be much of an issue, Miss?” He blinked sweetly at the waitress who shared a smile with him before she vanished, after irritation flashed through her irises. With a goodbye, she left him once more.

“Well time ta go, fellas. I’ve avoided the music for too long” Raph inwardly groaned at the thought of dealing with Leonardo sooner rather than later but he knew he couldn’t avoid the inevitable. “I’ll start the car up�� Grayson nodded and left with Mikey, leaving Raph to pay.

Her interaction played on his mind but that thought slowly left when he saw his phone blow up with messages, the first being from Leonardo. “Fuckin hell...” Sighing, Raph opened his wallet and placed a generous tip for the woman. Something about her was alluring, perhaps it was the fact that she didn’t hesitate to come up to him. Or that she wasn’t scared of him. Did she know who he was? No, she couldn’t have. Otherwise she would have that judging look in her eyes. Or filled with fear.

“Will that be all, sir?” A waiter comes to their table, noticing the troubled look on Raph’s face before it is set back to neutral.

“Yes. I’d like ta personally thank one of yer waitress for the service so can ya make sure she receives the tip?” “Sure, what was her name?” He asked and Raph paused, panicking slightly. Shit, what was her name?? It begins with an I... Imani?? No, that’s not right

“Immogene, her name is Immogene I believe” He nods and stands up while the waiter give his thanks again. Taking one last glance at the club, Raph moves towards the exit and leaves. He was about to head over to the car until a stranger bangs into his plastron effectively ruining the white shirt he had on.

“Oh for fucks sake” The stranger slurs while Raph hisses in disgust, recoiling away from the stranger,

“Oops, sorry about that pal....” There’s something about that laugh that he recognised, the same laugh from the man that had his grimy hands all over her. With a deep laugh, Raph punches him square on the jaw. The terrapin watches as he looses his footing, blood starting to run down the corner of his mouth. He gasps, eyes wide and fearful at the turtle who grins smugly.

“Oops, sorry about that pal” He drags out the words sarcastically, stepping closer to the human.

“Maybe that’ll teach ya to respect the employees. We don’t want another incident of this, do we?” Raph cocks his head, his pocket knife scratching the jaw of the human until it lifted his head level with the turtle.

“Wha- What do you mean??-” “Don’t play dumb wit’ me, fucker. Yer lucky I’m in. rush tonight but if I see ya touching anyone inappropriately again, well... I’m sure you’ll know what happens” Flexing his wrist, the knife falls from the human’s face, leaving a deep red scratch in its wake. It brought a smirk to Raph’s face, standing up to his full stature. He walked towards his car and left, cleaning the edges of his knife.

Smiling softly to himself, he knew he was visiting this bar sooner than later. Something about her caught his eyes and he wasn’t about to let go until he knew what was going on. For now, he would busy himself with the meetings but he had a feeling his mind would not shake images of her anytime soon.

What was it about her?

@waterstar2016

#tmnt replies #tmnt mafia!raphael #tmnt mafia!raph #i'm so sorry it's so long 😳#also thank you for your patience :)#i hope it's easy to follow

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hoboal87 · 4 years ago

Text

Elastic Heart Chapter Fifteen (Fin)

Title: Elastic Heart - Stay

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Cordelia Y/L/N, OFC’s

Pairing(s): Sam x Reader, Reader x OMC

Summary: In the aftermath of the final Trial, Dean reaches out to Y/N. Dean is willing to do whatever it takes to save Sam, but is he going to push Y/N too far?

Word Count: 13.4k(!)

Warnings: Angst, Bits of Fluff, Character Injury, Major Character Death, Time Jump, Implied Smut.

A/N: Series is mostly canon compliant, taking place during season 8/9. For the purposes of this fic Sam was born in '84 instead of '83.

A/N 2: Here it is, the final chapter! I have to thank my wonderful, awesome beta @deanwinchesterswitch! Kym, you are the best, thank you so much for making this fic the best possible version of itself. I will definitely miss our RIDICULOUSLY long notes and comments. I literally cannot say thank you enough for putting up with my crazy brain-dumps and last minute changes.

Elastic Heart Masterlist

Read Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen: Stay

Y/N POV

I take a deep breath as I pull out my phone and set the timer, setting the test next to two others. Stupid, I chastise myself, putting yourself in this position again. I lean against the counter before sliding down onto the floor, still being mindful of my arm. I stare blankly at the wall and let my mind wander. We were careless, so caught up in the moment, nothing else seemed to matter at the time. What were the odds of this happening again? The thought hadn’t even entered my brain until after Crowley’s attack. It’s been over a week, and I can still hear his words as clear as the day he said them. Sam didn’t come back to you, choosing girl after girl. Would you like to know the real cause of your parent’s accident? You are the ultimate bargaining chips. He must’ve known; it would explain his taunts about having Cordy call him ‘father.’ The buzzing of my phone pulls me out of my thoughts, I expect to see the timer, but it’s Dean’s name popping up on the caller ID. I reject the call without a second thought; he and Sam are the last people I want to talk to right now.

I haven’t even had the chance to put my phone back down before it starts vibrating again. A glance tells me it’s Dean calling again. “It’s 7 am, Dean,” I grumble, staring down at my phone. Whatever is causing him to reach out after nearly three months of complete silence must be important, at least to him. I hesitate briefly before rejecting the call.

I check the timer, two minutes. Crowley’s voice is in my head, and I’m back to that night again. Your precious Y/N is running out of time, Sam. As soon as we moved in, I was going to reach out to Sam, tell him I was ready for him to be a part of mine and Cordy’s lives. We still had our issues to work through, but Cordy had expressed more than once that she was ready to know him, and at the time, I started to forgive him. Sam repeatedly called after Crowley had left me, but Crowley’s words were all too fresh in my mind.

I peer into my room to see Cordy sleeping soundly in my bed. She’s afraid to leave me at night, something that I can’t blame her for. As I watch her sleep, my mind drifts back to the morning after Crowley’s attack.

I was trying to keep myself calm as I read through Sam’s multiple apology-ridden messages. I didn’t care that he was sorry; it couldn’t make up for the fact he and Dean had left us so utterly vulnerable to their enemies. I watched from the living room window as Cordy walked back over; I didn’t know how to explain my injury to her and how much of the truth I could tell her without further traumatizing her. I couldn’t lie my way out of it, but demons were not something I knew how to explain to a ten-year-old. Tears welled in Cordy’s eyes the minute she caught sight of me; she could see through my forced smile, she ran to me and wrapped her arms tight around my waist.

“Hey.” I tried to soothe her, using my good arm to rub a hand down her back. “It’s okay, I’m okay,” I half lied. “Couple of months, and I’ll be good as new.”

Cordy’s grip briefly loosened when I moved us onto the couch, I couldn’t pick her up like I wanted to, but I wasn’t going to stop her from crawling into my lap and burying her head into my shoulder. I let her weep against me; through her sobs, I heard a muffled ‘mom.’

It had been weeks since she’d called out for mom or dad when she was scared. By the time we had moved, her nightmares about the accident had become fewer and farther in between. Cordy had taken to climbing into my bed and letting me lull her back to sleep whenever one had woken her up.

“I know,” I whispered, trying to keep my tears at bay. “I miss them too.”

Cordy pulled away, her face blotchy, eyes blood-shot, and shook her head. “You’re my mom, Y/N,” she mumbled. “I do-don’t wanna lo-lose you too.” Cordy splutters through her tears. “You-you’re all I– I have le-left.”

I choked back a sob; she’s right; we only have each other. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t count on Sam to be there if something ever did happen to me. Cordy already lost one set of parents; I didn’t want to think about her losing Sam or me.

The vibration of my phone causes me to jump as it brings me back to the present. I sigh as I look down at the phone, rejecting the call. “Take the hint, Dean,” I mutter to myself. I check the timer, thirty seconds. I reach for the first test and vaguely remember an x-ray technician asking me if there was any possibility of me being pregnant. At the time, I didn’t even think about it; my night with Sam was the furthest thing on my mind.

I mindlessly chew away at my fingernails as the phone vibrates again, and I silently plead for it to stop. Relief floods through me when it does; maybe it’s finally gotten through to Dean that I don’t want to speak to him. The timer chirps and I grab the test off the counter and cover the results box with my hands. I close my eyes for a brief moment, praying that somehow I’m wrong. I take a shuddering breath as I slowly open my eyes, letting them land on the word ‘pregnant.’

Dean’s name briefly fills the screen again before I reject the call, setting my phone down on the tile. Surely he’ll get the message that I am intentionally not answering. I pull the second test off of the counter, pregnant. I don’t bother with the third. Even if somehow it was negative, the two positive pregnancy tests can’t both be wrong. I choke back a sob as I run through all of my options in my head. I can’t believe this is happening again. What am I going to tell Cordy? What about Sam? We weren’t in a good place when he left—that stupid fight.

The loud buzzing doesn’t just annoy me this time; it makes me want to pick up my phone and throw it against the wall. I grab my phone off the floor, and for a brief moment, I think of smashing into hundreds of pieces. I shake the thought out of my head before contemplating whether I should answer the call, my thumb hovering between the red and green circles.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you, Dean,” I say before ending the call, not giving him the chance to respond. I look back down at the test again, praying, willing it to change. I know it won’t, it was the first time I had sex in months, and of course, it’s with Sam fucking Winchester who had to go and get me pregnant. “Perfect vessel for Winchester children,” I mumble and let out a dry laugh. I wonder if the angels knew about this one, I chuckle to try to keep myself from crying, but the tears fall anyway, and my laughter quickly devolves into sobbing. Pregnant. Again. My phone chirps, 6 missed calls - Dean Winchester.

“Fuck,” I mutter as his name pops up again. I push the bathroom door closed, not wanting to wake Cordy. I clear my throat and wipe the tears away, taking a long and calming breath before accepting the call. “What do you want, Dean?”

“Y/N, don’t hang up, please, just–” Dean sighs, “I know you’re pissed, and you have every right, but–”

“Pissed is the understatement of the year.”

“Y/N–”

“The fucking King of Hell showed up on my doorstep. Came into my home and threatened the lives of both my daughter and me.” I hiss while trying to keep my voice down. “You know, I actually believed Sam when he said that Cas would show up if I prayed to him. Do you wanna know how many times I prayed for him to help? He did nothing, showing up hours later, giving some bullshit excuse about us not being in ‘real’ danger.”

“I–”

“What’s your excuse, Dean? Are you calling to apologize? You think that’ll make it all better? I don’t want your apology.” I can hear him huffing in anger on the other end. “Have a nice life, Dean.”

“Wait just a goddamn minute, Y/N,” he snaps before letting out a loud sigh and softening his voice. “I– I’m sorry. You have to believe that we didn’t know. If we even thought there was a chance of Crowley... we wouldn’t have let it happen. Sammy and I would’ve shown you how to protect yourself. Y/N, Sam has more guilt about Crowley than you’ll ever know. We didn’t think he knew about you or Cordy.”

“He said he’d been watching me for weeks,” I say, memories of that night playing in my head. “Weeks, Dean.”

“You would have been safe if you had stayed in Weldon,” Dean grumbles.

“The phone works both ways, Dean,” I murmur, trying to lessen my own guilt about leaving. “If you or Sam had bothered to keep in touch, you’d have known that we were planning to move.”

“Bullshit, Y/N,” Dean growls. “You stopped responding to Sam’s messages the day we left Weldon. You didn’t want to accept his apology, and at the time, as much as it broke him, he understood. You had no intention of telling us that you were moving. You can spout out crap about us not reaching out to you, Y/N, but you said it yourself, the phone works both ways.”

I let Dean’s words sink in. I’d threatened Sam with taking Cordy far away from him, but that wasn’t what the move was about; Cordy and I needed a change. I was able to leave so much of my baggage behind. I didn’t have to lie anymore; I didn’t have to carry the shame that my parents had made me feel for years.

“You asked for space, for time, and we were– are trying to respect that. You asked us to leave Weldon, and we did. I practically had to drag Sam outta there. He didn’t wanna leave you again, but I got his ass in the car, and we left. And all I heard from Weldon to Lebanon was how he wanted to tell you how sorry he was and that he was afraid that you would feel abandoned by him. It killed him to leave you and Cordy; you two are the only family we have left, and then you moved away without a single word. If you’d told us that you were planning on leaving Weldon, we would’ve found a way to protect you and Cordy. If you weren’t ready to be around Sam, we could’ve sent another hunter to protect you and Cordy.”

“We shouldn’t need protection, Dean. For ten years, we didn’t need protection. But the moment Sam steps back into my life, suddenly Cordy and I are targets for your enemies,” I let my eyes fall back on to the test in my hands. “I have to protect my family, Dean, and if that means Sam can’t be a part of our lives, then so be it. I refuse to live in constant fear that something like that could happen again. I’m not going to be some damsel in distress. I told Cas; Cordy and I are not bargaining chips.”

“The Crowley who attacked you doesn't exist anymore, Y/N. He's no longer the King of Hell; he's nothing more than a regular human. Crowley can't hurt you or Cordy ever again.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that’s true, Dean.”

“It is, Y/N.” Dean sighs, “Cas told us he warded your house. Wherever you are, you and Cordy are safe. I give you my word.”

“Your word isn’t the one I want, Dean. You’re not the reason Crowley came after us; Sam is. All of it was about him and me.”

“You don’t think that I care–?”

“I know you do, Dean,” I sigh, “but you’re on the phone with me instead of Sam. You’re the one playing peace-keeper. Sam should be the one telling me all of these things, not you. If Sam wants me to forgive him and think about letting him back into mine and Cordy’s life, then I need to hear it from him.”

Dean is silent on the other line, and through the static of the phone, I can hear a muffled voice coming through a speaker. A deep breath cuts through the silence before he speaks again.

“Sam’s– Sammy’s hurt, Y/N,” Dean’s voice hitches as if he’s trying to keep himself calm. “It’s– it’s bad.” Suddenly, all the background noises I’ve been hearing make sense. “He was doing okay for a couple of days, but then he took a turn for the worse. Sam’s…” Dean trails off briefly, and I fear that I already know what his next words will be. “You should be here, Y/N, you and Cordy. Sam needs his girls by his side.”

I smile briefly at Dean’s words before my heart falls into my stomach. There’s something he isn’t telling me, and every breath I try to take becomes more difficult. I grip the test tighter in my hands, and I try to let go of all of my anger that had been residing in me since the night we fought. I regret the last words spoken between us, fueled by rage and fear; we don’t need you; I should’ve taken the words back.

“Where are you?”

“Linwood Memorial Hospital in Randolf, New York.” Dean doesn’t hesitate.

“New York? You’re not in Kansas? I thought–”

“Randolf, New York,” Dean reiterates, “Linwood Memorial Hospital.”

I tell Dean that I will have to get a flight to him, and he insists on giving me a scammed credit card to pay for it. A part of me almost doesn’t want to take it, but after seeing how much such a last-minute flight would cost, I accept it.

I call the school as soon as I hang up with Dean, explaining that Cordy will be out for at least the rest of the week. The receptionist seems to understand, reminding me to reach out to her teachers for lessons and homework.

I step into my closet, grabbing two bags, and begin packing my belongings as quietly as I can. I set my bag down at the top of the stairs before repeating the process in Cordy’s room. I place Cordy’s bag next to my own before glancing back into my room. Cordy’s still sleeping, arms tightly gripping her teddy bear. I don't want to wake her, not yet, so I gently close my bedroom door before making my way downstairs. When I open the front door, there’s nothing but the sounds of nature greeting me. A few of the houses are bathed in an orange light where the sun is just barely peeking over rooftops. I step out onto the dewy grass, setting the bags down. I relish in the quiet of the neighborhood for a moment and let myself get lost in thought.

“Y/N,” a low voice says as their hand lands on my arm.

“Jesus!” I yelp, balling my fist and ready to throw a punch. I turn quickly to see my neighbor, Jason, standing behind me.

“Whoa! Sorry,” Jason puts his hands up in surrender, and I unclench my fist. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Someone oughta put a bell on you,” I laugh slightly. “It’s not polite to sneak up on people. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

“I called your name a couple of times,” he shrugs. “I guess you were off somewhere else?”

“Yeah, something like that.” I nod.

“Here, let me help you,” Jason picks up the two bags. “Looks like you’re makin’ a break for it.”

“I guess you could say that,” I shrug and walk towards my car, Jason matching my steps. “Thanks.”

“Don’t tell me we’ve scared you outta the neighborhood already?” Jason chuckles. “Is it Old Lady Nelson?” I try to speak, but he playfully cuts me off. “She’s a witch, you know.”

“Is she?” I raise an eyebrow and pop the trunk. “What kind of witch? Do I need to keep a bucket of water on hand?”

“No, more like the fortune-telling kind,” he grins, slowing his steps, before stopping at the trunk. “She paid me a visit the other day and said I would meet someone.”

“Oh?” I ask as he sets the two bags down, and he nods his head. Suddenly, I’m painfully aware that he’s flirting and that I may be unintentionally encouraging it.

“She said that she would have a-” Jason’s blue eyes dart around me, “a robin’s nest in her yard. Oh!” He dramatically yells as I close the trunk. ”Will you look at that?” He points to the robin’s nest and winks. I shake my head; we both know it was there long before I moved in. “So whaddya say, Y/N? Can I take you out for dinner sometime?”

“Cut right to the chase, don’t you?” I tease him. “Listen, Jason, I think you’re really nice, but–”

“But,” Jason sighs and frowns slightly, “you’re not interested?”

“I’m– I–” I don’t know how to describe my relationship with Sam. He isn’t my boyfriend, but he’s more than just the father of my daughter. “I’m with someone, Cordy’s dad. We’re going to be visiting him for the next couple of days.”

“Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Jason runs his hands through his short hair and gives me an embarrassed smile. “Cynthia told me you were single and has been pushing for me to ask you out. If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have–”

“We have a complicated relationship,” I laugh weakly. “‘Sides you deserve someone who doesn’t have a mountain of baggage.”

“Well, if Mr. Complicated doesn’t wise up, he better be prepared to put up a fight for you,” he teases, and a slight tinge of pink fills his cheeks. “I don’t give up easily, and baggage doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re sweet,” I reach for his arm and gently squeeze it, “but you hardly know me. For all you know, I could be some stage five clinger psychopath or– or an assassin.”

“Then we’ll be two peas in a pod,” Jason smirks, stepping closer to me and brushing a stray hair away from my face. For a moment, I lean into his touch, but I stop myself.

“I have to go,” I exclaim and run back into the house, slamming the door behind me.

I scold myself as I pace my living room. Sam’s in some hospital, and you’re outside flirting with the neighbor? The clock on the wall catches my attention, 8 am, we have to leave soon.

“Y/N?” Cordy’s scratchy voice pulls me out of my thoughts; she looks to be on the verge of tears. “I woke up, and you weren’t there.”

“Oh, kid, I’m sorry.” I close the gap between us and let her settle against me. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve had a busy morning. You and me, we’re going on a trip.”

“Really?” Cordy’s face lights up, “what kind of a trip?”

“We’re gonna visit Sam,” Cordy’s smile grows; this is something she’s wanted for the last month. “He’s sick,” I explain, and Cordy’s smile fades.

“Is he gonna be okay?”

“I hope so, kid. But I don’t know, that’s why we’re gonna go see him.”

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

When we arrive in Randolf, it’s almost 9 pm. Cordy and I are exhausted, unused to this kind of travel. It makes me wonder how Sam and Dean live in the Impala for hours and sometimes days on end. The hospital’s visiting hours will be over by now, so I send a message to Dean, letting him know that we are staying at a hotel for the night. He tells me that he has already added us to Sam's visitor list and that he would be under the name Dougherty. I crawl into the large bed, Cordy’s already sleeping soundly, and let my mind wander.

Sam is going to make it out of this, isn’t he? Will he be happy when I tell him about the baby? Will he come back to Lawrence with us when all of this is over? Will he walk away from Dean for the three of us? Will Dean let him?

It’s still early when a turning in my stomach makes me bolt towards the bathroom, emptying my stomach into the porcelain bowl.

“Y/N?” Cordy calls from outside the bathroom, and before I can muster out an answer, I feel the bile rising in my throat again. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Go back to bed, Cordy,” I say more harshly than I mean to. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

When I open the bathroom door, Cordy is still standing there, tears filling her eyes. “Are you mad at me?” She asks as a tear slips out.

“Oh, kid, I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I crouch down and meet her eyes. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you sick too?” Cordy sniffles.

“No,” I shake my head. “I’m– I’m gonna have a baby.”

Guilt overwhelms me as I pull into the hospital’s parking lot; I need Sam to know that I still love him, that all the words exchanged weren’t how I truly felt. Ten years of thinking he had run away, and the anger that exploded from us both drove my words. I know, deep down, that Sam wouldn’t have left if he’d known the truth. We were scared kids and didn’t know how not to believe the words of our parents. I know that if either one of us could go back, we would.

Even though Cas changed her memories, Cordy’s body tenses as we step into the hospital. She grips my hand tightly as we walk to the main desk and check-in. I ask for Sam Dougherty’s room, pulling out my ID and handing it to the receptionist. She smiles warmly as she hands over the visitor passes she printed for us.

“I need to ask you something, Cordy,” I say as I kneel to place the badge on the front of her shirt. “When we get up to Sam’s room, do you want to see him?” She fidgets at the mention of being in a hospital room. “You don’t have to; it’s your decision.”

“I don’t know,” she answers sheepishly. “If you want me to-”

“No, kid. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. It’s okay if you don’t,” I squeeze her arm. “I know we’ve talked about you getting to know Sam as your dad, but you’ve only met him a couple of times. If you’re not ready to see him, I’m not going to force you.”

“Is he gonna look scary?” She murmurs, looking down at the floor.

I don’t know how to answer the question. Dean said he was hurt badly. If Sam wasn’t going to get better from this, I don’t know if I want her one of her only memories of him to be attached to machines, bruised, and broken. If she’s only going to have one real memory of Sam, let it be of the day that he visited her after the accident.

“How ‘bout,” I offer, “I go and see him first, by myself. And if I think he looks too scary, I’ll tell you.”

“Sammy isn’t gonna be mad?” Cordy looks up to meet my eyes.

“No, of course not,” I say firmly, “he wouldn’t want you to be afraid.” She nods and grabs my hand as we head up to Sam’s room.

I leave Cordy just outside Sam’s room. She looks around for a moment before I hand over my tablet and headphones, letting her drown out the noises of the hospital. I hesitate to leave her, and when a nurse volunteers to sit with her, I graciously accept. I place a kiss on her forehead, whispering one four three in her ear before heading into Sam’s room. I peer into the open door of the room. Sam’s long frame fills the bed. He looks emaciated; his face bruised, eyes and cheeks sunken in, and skin stretched taut over his bones.

Dean’s at his side, hunched over; I can see his mouth moving but can’t make out anything he’s saying. I wipe the forming tears away, knocking softly on the door. Dean jumps slightly at the sound, and a look of relief washes over his face when he sees me.

“Y/N,” Dean frowns when he catches sight of me, his eyes immediately fall on my broken arm. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he wraps his arms around me. “Cas said he tried to heal–”

“What happened, Dean?” I pull away from him, focusing my attention on Sam. “How did he get this bad?”

“Did Cas tell you what we were trying to do?”

“Said something about closing Hell Gates,” I can’t take my eyes off of Sam’s body. Dean leads me to a chair, letting me sit down before moving to the opposite side of the bed. He grabs a second chair, pulling it around so that he’s sitting next to me.

“Yeah. What we didn’t know when Sam started them is that to complete the Trials, Sam would have to die.” Dean looks back over to Sam. “I couldn’t let that happen. I tried to convince him to stop, Y/N, but he wouldn’t listen. He couldn’t stop,” Dean seems to be reassuring himself just as much as me. “The only reason he’s probably still alive right now is that he collapsed before he could finish it.”

“Where’s Cas? Can’t he do something?” I ask, hopefully. “He can heal Sam, can’t he?”

“Sam’s been too damaged for months for Cas to do anything,” Dean sighs. “Tried to help a while back, and even then, he couldn’t do anything. I haven’t let that stop me, Y/N,” Dean offers a sad smile. “I’ve tried praying, but Cas won’t answer.”

“What about another angel?” I’m desperate, taking Sam’s lifeless hand in my own. “Cas can’t be the only one who can help.”

“The thing about angels, Y/N, is most of ‘em are dicks.” Dean lets out a pained laugh. “And they’re not exactly fans of Sam and me. Most won’t help even if they can.”

“You have to do something, Dean,” I plead. “You can’t let him die. You said you’d watch out for him. He can’t die, not now; I need him. Me and Cordy, we need him.”

“Y/N.”

“You’re friends with a freaking angel, you know the King of Hell, but you can’t do anything to save Sam? You’re not trying hard enough, Dean.” I direct all of the guilt I’m feeling at Dean; a part of me knows it’s not fair to him, but I can’t help it. “All this will be for nothing if he’s gone. You tried to stop him and now look at him,” I direct my attention back to Sam.

Dean silently takes my verbal lashing, his emerald eyes filling with tears.

“Screw you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Sam is my brother, and we’ve been through more shit together than you will ever know.” I can hear the pain in Dean’s voice, but he remains calm and quiet, and I notice him discreetly wiping a tear away. “I’ve watched him die too many times already, and I wasn’t gonna let it happen again. I couldn’t let another Winchester grow up without a parent; me and Sam, we practically raised ourselves. Cordy deserves to have both of her parents raising her.”

“Dean–”

“You don’t know how messed up Sam got, Y/N!” Dean’s face reddens, and his voice starts to rise. “He was about to die, and he didn’t even care! If you’d heard what he said in that church– He thinks that you and Cordy are better off without him; that you can just replace him. He’s not replaceable, Y/N. I was trying to talk him off a ledge, and you wanna know the worst part? I’m the reason he got so messed up. I was the one that was supposed to be doing the Trials, not Sam. I could’ve finished them, and he could’ve finally gotten out. I had to save my brother; I will always do whatever it takes to save him. You can put the blame on me for how he is now, but don’t act like you wouldn’t have at least tried to stop him if you were there.”

“Dean,” I can barely speak, “I’m sorry. I just–”

“D’you know what he’s wanted since we were kids?” Dean doesn’t wait for me to respond and focuses back on Sam. “A normal life. He never wanted to be a hunter, follow in dad’s footsteps; he wanted to be his own person. I’m the one who dragged his ass away from Stanford, I’m the reason he wasn’t there when Jessica was murdered, and I know that deep down, a part of him will never be able to forgive me for it. Sam had his chance at normal, but he gave it up for me. If I hadn’t pulled him into that hunt, he probably wouldn’t have come back. He’d be living some apple-pie life with you or Jessica; married, a couple of kids running around, a dog, house with a white picket fence.”

“I don’t have a white picket fence,” I say softly, garnering a small chuckle from Dean. “But, I want all that with him. I want him around, to be a father to Cordy and- and...” I stop myself from saying any more, reluctant to tell him about this baby as well. If I tell him and Sam doesn’t make it through this, I can’t have Dean as a looming presence in Cordy and this baby’s life, reminding all of us of something we can never have. “Before Crowley, I was ready to find a way to make it work with Sam. After Crowley left, I was so scared, Dean, so angry. I still am, but I want us to move past all that. Cordy’s ready to know her dad.”

“Cordy knows?” Dean asks, his eyes going wide at my confession, “I thought you were– You said you didn’t want to tell her, that you wanted to wait until she was ready?” Dean’s brow furrows, and I can hear the anger in his voice. I had insisted to both brothers that Cordy wasn’t ready to know the truth, but now, only a few months later, she was suddenly ready?

“I was,” I focus my attention back on Sam, and I can feel the daggers Dean is staring into me. “That morning, after you left? That box of photos was still out,” I explain. I could tell he thought that I’d lied to him that night. “I’d meant to put them away, but after everything that happened, I was exhausted and pretty much passed out on the couch. When I woke up, Cordy was going through it and started asking questions. She was putting everything together before I could even come up with an excuse. The kid’s too smart for her own good,” I chuckle, and Dean relaxes slightly. “It was rough; Cordy was angry and confused, but she’s adjusting, we both are. She’s been getting used to the idea, and for the last month, she’s been asking me about getting to know Sam.”

“I’ll find a way to get him back to the both of you,” Dean promises, reaching out to give my hand a firm squeeze. “I promise, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Dean and I sit in silence for a few minutes before a doctor joins us. He explains the extent of Sam’s injuries: massive internal burns, oxygen deprivation, the coma is Sam’s last resort of self-preservation.

“He’s dying,” Dean mutters.

“If he continues on this trajectory, I’m afraid so. The machines may be able to keep him alive, but with injuries such as these–”

“There isn’t anything you can do?” I question the doctor.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s in God’s hands now,” the doctor smiles at me sympathetically.

“God’s hands?” Dean huffs, and his face hardens. “You’re a medical professional, and you’re telling us that my brother’s life is in God’s hands? What, is that supposed to be some sort of– of comfort?”

“Dean,” I sigh, “he’s just saying–”

“No, Y/N,” Dean snaps at me. He immediately gives me an apologetic smile before standing up to meet the doctor at the edge of the bed. “God has nothing to do with this equation. If I wanted to leave it up to God, I wouldn’t have brought him here in the first place. Do your job, save my brother.”

The doctor doesn’t flinch at Dean’s verbal assault, taking it as gracefully as one can. He apologizes again before leaving us alone. Dean refuses to sit back down, pacing around the room and muttering under his breath. I focus back on Sam, squeezing his hand tighter, praying for some kind of response to show that he’s still there, fighting his way back to Cordy and me.

“You have to fight, Sam,” I lean in and whisper. “I didn’t mean what I said that night; I was angry and scared. We do need you. You can’t leave Cordy and me, not like this.”

The room is silent, save for the heart monitor beeping steadily and my sniffling. Dean has stopped pacing, and when I look up, he’s staring at Sam and me, waiting as much as I am for some kind of sign that Sam isn’t giving up. I wipe my tears away and take a long, calming breath before speaking.

“Cordy’s outside,” I say as I leave my seat. “I’m– I’m gonna talk to her, see if she wants to see Sam.”

Dean nods slightly, and as I walk by him, he pulls me into a hug, “I’ll find a way to fix this, Y/N,” he reassures me. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get him better again.”

When I get back to Cordy, she is intensely focused on the tablet in her hands. I take another long inhale, hoping that I can hide the evidence of my tears. I playfully tug at her headphones, pulling her attention away from the tablet, and I see she’s watching a video from a channel called Ghostfacers.

“Learn anything interesting?” I ask as I take the seat next to her.

“Nah,” she shrugs and turns off the tablet, “those guys are weirdos.”

I laugh as she puts the tablet back into my bag. I try to figure out the best way to breach the subject of Sam to Cordy.

“How’s Sammy?” Cordy asks as if she can read my mind, and I give her a tight-lipped smile.

“He’s– He’s not doing okay.” I try to think of a way to explain his condition to her, something that will make sense. “You know how sometimes when you’re sick, you just want to sleep?” Cordy nods. “Well, right now, Sam is really sick, so he’s gonna stay asleep until he’s better.”

“How long is Sammy gonna sleep?” Cordy questions innocently. “Are we gonna stay until he wakes up?”

“I– I don’t know, kid,” I tell her honestly. “It could be days, weeks, or,” I struggle with the next words, “Sam may never wake up.”

Cordy seems to understand what I’m saying, and I’m thankful that I don’t have to say the words, ‘Sam’s dying.’ I don’t push her to respond, letting her think over whatever she may want to say next. I keep my own conflicted feelings at bay; half wants to take her back to Lawrence and never talk about this ever again; the other half wants her to go in and see him so that at least she can get a proper goodbye.

“Can I see him?” Cordy asks after a few moments of silence. “Would that be okay?”

“If that’s what you want, kid,” I grab her hand in mine and gently squeeze it before walking us back towards Sam’s room.

Dean’s still pacing the floor when I walk in; Cordy stays behind me, gripping my hand tightly. I try to move forward, but she pulls back against me, stopping at the doorway. Dean peers around me before closing the gap between us and crouches down to meet Cordy at her eye-level.

“Hey, Princess, do you remember me?” Dean asks sweetly.

Cordy smiles and nods, “Y/N says you’re my uncle.”

“That’s right,” Dean’s eyes shine with pride. “I’m Sammy’s big brother. Do you know what big brothers do?” he asks, and Cordy shakes her head. “We protect our little brothers. We don’t let anything happen to them.”

“Can I talk to him?” She looks between Dean and me. “Is that okay?”

“Sure, kid,” I smile weakly.

Cordy lets go of my hand and makes her way to the empty chair by Sam’s side. Dean gives my arm a reassuring squeeze as I walk by, and I sit in the chair that he previously occupied. Cordy doesn’t say anything at first, seemingly studying Sam silently, she wasn’t one to normally shy away from a conversation, but this is a new experience for her.

“Why don’t you tell Sam about school?” I suggest, knowing that once she starts talking, it’ll be hard to get her to stop.

Cordy nods before explaining in unbelievable detail about her teachers and classmates. She tells him all about our new house and how she decorated her room because she’s not a little kid anymore, which causes a small laugh from both Dean and me. She speaks non-stop for what seems like hours, telling Sam everything he would ever need to know to become integrated into our lives.

“Definitely Sam’s kid,” Dean jokes from the edge of the bed, listening just as intently as Sam would. Cordy doesn’t pay any attention and goes right back to chattering.

After a few minutes, Dean gets up and gestures for me to join him outside the room. He tells me he has a plan, that it could be our only hope to save Sam, and gently orders me not to let anyone else into the room until he gets back. I want to pry for more details, but it must be a long-shot or something dangerous if Dean’s not giving them.

When I walk back into the room, Cordy is telling Sam how she hopes that he will be awake for her birthday, and my heart breaks. Unless Dean can pull off some miracle, Sam won’t recover from this; his body is far too damaged.

When Dean returns a half-hour later, a bruise is blossoming on his cheek as if he’s been in a fight, and a large man follows closely behind him. Something about him is unsettling, and Cordy stops speaking when she sees him, leaving her seat to move into my lap.

“Y/N, I think you should take Cordy outside,” Dean suggests, and the man eyes the two of us.

For a moment, I want to protest, but Dean hardens his face, and it seems that he’s as wary of this stranger as I am.

“Okay,” I nod, getting out of the chair and grabbing Cordy by the hand. She tugs against me and takes a few steps towards the head of the bed. She leans over so much that only her toes are touching the ground and does her best to hug Sam and places a kiss on his cheek. If I had any less control over myself, I’d be a sobbing mess at the sight—damn hormones.

I give Cordy a small smile when she turns around and returns her hand to mine. I settle her back into the same seat before returning to Sam’s room.

“Dean? What’s going on? Who is this?”

“My name is Ezekiel,” the man faces me, “I am not here to harm you or your daughter, Y/N.”

“How do you–”

“Angel,” Dean answers before I can finish asking my question. “He’s here to help, right?” Ezekiel nods. “Even cut-off from Heaven, you can still heal him, can’t you?”

“Your brother is very weak.”

“No, no,” Dean growls, “I saved your life, and you said you could help. That was our deal: I fight, you save.”

“Please,” I say, stepping closer to Ezekiel. “You can’t do anything?”

“There are no good ways, I’m afraid.”

“Then what are some of the bad ones?” Dean says. “He’s dying, let’s hear ‘em, good or bad.”

Ezekiel explains that he can help from the inside. I watch as Dean contemplates what Ezekiel says, looking to me for some kind of relief. I shake my head, and I tell him I don’t understand.

“Possession,” Dean explains.

“It is your decision, Y/N, and yours, Dean,” Ezekiel sits down.

“No, it’s not,” Dean murmurs. “It’s Sam’s. He’d never say yes to being some angel’s meatsuit.”

“I understand, but without my help, your brother will die.”

Dean turns his attention to Sam and sighs, “do it.”

“Dean,” I pull him towards me. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“He can fix Sam, Y/N!” Dean argues. “This is the only solution I can think of that doesn’t involve something worse.”

“Worse than you letting some angel possess him?” I question in disbelief. “I know you want to help him, Dean. But this isn’t the way, tell me you don’t know that.”

“What, you want to leave it in God's hands? Just wait and see if maybe he comes out of this? Those Trials– The person completing them is meant to die; it’s supposed to be the ultimate sacrifice. I say Sam’s sacrificed enough in his life. He deserves to live, Y/N.”

“I don’t want him gone either, Dean, but this should be his choice, not yours or mine. You know him better than anyone. Do you think this is how he’d want you to save him? He wouldn’t want this, Dean. I don’t want this.”

“You told me to fix him, that you want to keep him in your life, Y/N. That’s what I’m doing.”

“I know, but–” I turn my gaze to Ezekiel and then back to Sam. “This isn’t right, Dean. You know it isn’t.”

Dean shrugs me off of him and steps closer to Ezekiel, and they begin talking in hushed tones. My eyes land on Sam, and for a moment, I consider what Dean is saying, thinking that it may be the only way to keep Sam in my and Cordy’s lives. I watch Ezekiel; his voice is too low for me to make out any exact words. There’s something he’s not telling us. Ezekiel repeats his offer.

“He’d never say yes to you,” Dean murmurs.

“But he would say yes to you or Y/N,” Ezekiel offers, his eyes land between us. "If you want me to help Sam, we must act quickly." Despite his words, there is no urgency in Ezekiel's voice, no emotion. "Your brother doesn't have much time."

"No," I murmur, shaking my head when Dean faces me. "You're not going to use me to manipulate Sam. There's gotta be another way, Dean."

“There's not, Y/N," Dean sighs. "You heard the doctor; there's nothing more they can do."

"That's not what he said, Dean," I argue, even though from what we were told, there was little chance of Sam recovering. I have to hope that somehow he can get better. "People wake up from comas every day. There are new therapies–"

"They will not work, Y/N," Ezekiel states matter-of-factly. "The damage done to Sam's body cannot be healed by mere mortals. Sam will die unless you allow me to help."

"If I’m going to consider this, you show me, prove to me how bad he is," Dean's desperate; we both are. Ezekiel moves, placing one hand on Sam and the other on Dean, and both men go still for a few moments. I stand there, unable to do anything but watch as the heart monitor beeps become further apart.

"What're you doing, Sam?" Dean says barely above a whisper. He turns to face me again, and I can see the fear and panic playing on his face. He turns back to Ezekiel. "Go in as me to convince him."

"Dean!"

“Tell him I gotta plan, that he has to trust me," Dean ignores me and instructs Ezekiel. "And– and that he has a kid that needs him."

I can’t take it anymore, and I don’t want to be anymore complicit in Dean letting Ezekiel possess Sam than I already am. Dean and Ezekiel are too caught up in their conversation to notice me walking towards Sam. If Dean wants Ezekiel to save Sam, he's not going to use us to do it.

I lean forward and whisper in his ear, “I’m sorry.” I squeeze Sam’s lifeless hand and place a kiss on his forehead. "One four three."

I don’t say anything else to Dean or Ezekiel and reluctantly leave the room. I try to keep myself calm when I get back to Cordy, giving her a pained smile that I hope she doesn't see through. She doesn’t question me when I take her hand in mine and begin walking us towards the elevators. I know I’ll have to explain why we’re leaving at some point, but I can’t do it now, not when I can hardly wrap my brain around it.

We’re halfway down the hall when I hear Dean calling after me, I do my best to ignore it, but it becomes more difficult when Cordy points it out as if somehow I don’t hear him. Dean's voice continues to follow, and I can see Cordy giving me a questioning look out of the corner of my eye.

“Y/N!” Dean’s hand lands on my shoulder, only moments after we reach the elevator bay. “Don’t leave, please, I’m begging you,” he pleads. “It’s the only way.”

"You're not doing this in front of Cordy, Dean," I scold him before turning my attention to Cordy. "Go take a seat over there, please," I gesture to a row of empty chairs.

"But, Y/N–" Cordy tries to protest.

"Now, Cordy." She pouts, and once she is far enough away that she can no longer hear us, Dean tries to start in again, but I beat him to it. "How fucking dare you. You think I'm gonna let you use Cordy and me to trick Sam into letting some,” I lower my voice as a staff worker walks by, “angel possess him?”

"I’m doing this for you, for Cordy.”

“You’re doing this for you, Dean,” I argue back. “You don’t even know this guy. He could be lying to you. How do you know he’s not going to just–” I can feel myself getting worked up and take a deep breath. “I might not know anything about angels, but you can’t tell me that Ezekiel doesn’t seem to be a little off?”

“So, what, you just– just want to let him die? You're ready to just give up on him?” Dean’s face grows red, and his forehead crinkles.

“Stop it, Dean,” I snap. “I want him back too, but this isn’t the way.” I take a deep breath. “I'm not okay with this, Dean, and you know Sam wouldn't be either."

“What about Cordy, everything you've told me? You want her to grow up without her dad?”

“Screw you, Dean.” I bite back, the palm of my hand connecting with his cheek. “Cordy is my kid and the most important person in my world. I won’t let you guilt me into thinking you're doing this for her.”

“We’re outta options, Y/N. What else do you want me to do? I can’t– I won’t walk away when there’s a chance to save him. Sam’ll–”

“Sam will never forgive you, Dean.”

“He might be pissed at me for the rest of his life, but at least he’ll be alive, Y/N.”

"I can't stop you, Dean. But if you go through with it: making Sam's choice for him, then you're making mine too." I call out for Cordy, and she joins me by my side again. "Say goodbye to Dean," I instruct her gently, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Don't do this," Dean whispers, and I shake my head, twisting slightly to press the button on the wall. I can't stay, not when I have two other people to think about. "Please."

Cordy hesitantly places her arms around Dean and mumbles goodbye to him. When she steps back, I lay my hands on her shoulder and pull her closer to me so that she can't see the tears slipping from my eyes.

"Goodbye, Dean," I say as I hear the doors ding open and turn around to step into the elevator. Dean's emerald eyes are filled with tears as I face him a final time. "I hope you make the right choice," I whisper as the doors close.

As we exit the hospital, Cordy questions why we’re leaving, and I struggle to find an answer. We'll be back on a plane to Lawrence tomorrow, and I do everything I can to evade her questions about Sam, eventually settling on Sam may never wake up.

We are walking into the house when a backfiring car sends me over the edge. Cordy helplessly watches as I’m thrust back into my memories of the night of the werewolf attack; its amber eyes staring me down, its claws swiping at me, how I had to lie to everyone about what happened, how I still have to. Sam never leaving my side until we were pulled apart by my parents.

My whole world is crashing down around me, and all I want is Sam. I want to feel his arms around me again, telling me that everything will be okay. I want to sink my body into his, taking solace in his comforting embrace, and let myself get lost in him. I want him to be with us forever, having the family he’s wanted since I told him I was pregnant all those years ago.

My Sam may be gone forever, and the only thing I can do is pray that Dean made the right decision.

Three Years Later

“Cordelia Mary!” I yell from the bottom of the stairs. “Your butt better be down here in five minutes.”

“Mo-om!” I hear her door opening, and she steps onto the landing. “That’s not enough time–”

“Too bad, kid,” I huff. “I mean it, Cordy, five minutes, or I'm taking your phone away.” A grumbled okay comes from the top of the stairs. I head back towards the kitchen, blue and green orbs watching me as I walk back in. “What’re we gonna do about her, Sammy?” I laugh as I bend down and scoop him up in my arms. “No ideas, huh?”

"You yell at sissy." He giggles when I nuzzle into his neck and blow raspberries on his chubby cheeks. “Sissy in t’ouble?"

"No, baby. Sissy isn't in trouble," I sit him down in his chair and run my fingers through his chestnut locks. Sammy’s eyes widen, and a smile forms when he looks behind me.

Large hands wrapping around my waist cause me to jump back and let out a yelp. I turn around to a cheeky grin; he’s obviously very proud of himself.

“You jerk,” I swat at his chest, trying to retain my serious demeanor, which becomes harder to do as Sammy’s laughter fills the kitchen. Warm, comforting arms pull me closer to him. I let my hands settle on the back of his neck, curling my fingers in his hair. He leans down to place a tender kiss on my lips, letting his two-day scruff scratch against my lips. “I don’t know why I put up with you sometimes.” I roll my eyes playfully at him.

“You say that, but,” his lips move to the shell of my ear, “we both know exactly why you put up with me.” He pulls back and gives me a wink. His hand leaves my waist and delicately takes my left hand into his kissing the diamond ring still settling on my finger. “‘Sides, you love me, and you know it.”

“Love?” I scoff, trying to hide my smile. “I don’t know if I would say that. Not if you insist on sneaking up on me all the time.”

“Sammy saw me, didn’t you?” I turn in his embrace, letting my back settle against his chest, and his arms stay tight around me. Sammy giggles and shakes his head. “Traitor,” he whispers.

I curl my hands around his arms; it has taken us so long to get here, something I never thought would happen. The watch on his wrist alerts me to the time, and I gently pull away from him, making my way back towards the stairs.

“Cordy! I’m serious!” I yell up the stairs, “You’d better be down here in two minutes!”

"Do you want me to talk to her?” he asks as I walk back into the kitchen. He’s sitting down next to Sammy, cutting fruit into halves as Sammy tries shoveling the food into his mouth. “See what the problem is?"

"She's a teenager; that's the problem," I laugh, taking a seat at the table. “Didn’t think you’d be here three years ago, did you?”

“What do you mean?” His eyebrow furrows in confusion.

“Raising a teenager and a toddler with someone who works ridiculous hours and has serious abandonment issues,” I keep my tone light, but he knows the insecurity behind my words.

“Y/N,” Jason reaches for my hand and gently squeezes it. “I told you a long time ago, I don’t give up that easily. If I didn’t think I could handle it, I wouldn’t have pursued you for as long as I did,” he says with a chuckle. “I love you, Y/N; Cordy and Sammy, they may not be mine, but I’ll never treat them any different than if they were. I’m never gonna walk away from you or them.”

Cordy is downstairs just as I’m about to call out for her again. She chatters away as she eats her breakfast, only to be interrupted by Sammy’s need to chime in. She placates her little brother, and we all listen intently as he struggles to connect one thought to another.

“C’mon, kid,” I stand up from the table, “it’s our turn to carpool; go get Ava.”

She quickly gets out of her chair and places a kiss on Sammy’s cheek. She lets Jason pull her in for a quick hug before grabbing her backpack and making for the front door. I lean down and place a kiss on his lips before doing the same with Sammy. By the time I’m outside, Cordy and Ava are both in the back seat, deep in conversation.

I drop the girls off at school and make my way back home, ready to sleep for hours and thankful that I have the next two days off. Jason plans his schedule around mine so that one of us can be home with Cordy and Sammy more often than not. On a day like today, when I’m coming off a twelve-hour shift from the hospital, he’ll leave late in the morning and come back in the early afternoon. I find it comforting to know that I will never have to worry about him not returning from a job.

Jason and Sammy are sitting on the living room floor when I walk through the door, watching some kids show that I can’t quite place. I laugh to myself when I notice that Jason seems to be just as invested as Sammy. I take the opportunity to sneak up on him, and Jason nearly jumps to his feet when my hands land on his back. Sammy lets out a loud, high-pitched squeal and claps his chubby hands together, laughing as Jason chuckles.

“Consider that your payback,” I giggle as he turns around, wrapping my arms around his neck, and he lands a playful swat on my ass.

"You'll pay for that later," he teases before leaning forward to press a kiss on my lips.

I sit with them for as long as I can before exhaustion starts to overpower my will to stay awake—damn midnight shifts.

I make my way upstairs and crawl into the comfort of my bed, allowing sleep to finally take me. The bed dips and the warmth of a body where there was once cold causes me to stir, and I roll over, opening my eyes to meet Jason’s blue ones. I smile sleepily as he presses his lips on my forehead and tells me that he’s put Sammy down for his nap. I pull his face downward, allowing him to kiss me properly. Jason holds me close, pulling me flush against him, letting me take comfort in his warm embrace until I’m asleep again.

“Mama.” Sammy’s small voice wakes me, and I open my eyes to see him reach for the edge of the bed, his curls matted on one side. “Wake up, mama!”

“Hey, baby,” I coo, trying to shake the hoarseness away. I swing my legs over the bed and reach for Sammy, pulling him into my lap. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Good nap, mama,” he repeats.

“Are you ready for a snack?” I ask as I stand up, letting Sammy settle on my hip.

“Hung’y, mama,” Sammy happily nods as we make our way downstairs.

I set Sammy down in his pack n’ play and pour some Puffs into a bowl, letting his loud crunching and noisy toys fill the kitchen as I fix us something to eat. As I’m setting the plates down, I hear a knock on the front door.

“Ugh, every time,” I complain, taking a small piece of apple and placing it in my mouth. “I’ll be back in just a minute, okay?”

“‘Kay, mama,” Sammy says as he picks up another puff.

Another rapping comes from the door, this one louder than the last, probably some salesperson, I murmur. When I open the door, all I see at first is a broad, tall body covered by a blue plaid shirt, and as I let my eyes travel up, I meet a pair of eyes that I never thought I’d see again.

“Sam.”

“Y/N/N.”

My heart races at the sound of my name on his lips, but I can’t move; the last time I saw Sam, Dean was about to let an angel possess him. What if this wasn’t Sam? What if this was Ezekiel? I eye him suspiciously. Should I call Cas?

“It’s me, Y/N/N,” Sam says as if he can read my mind.

“No.” I shake my head and attempt to close the door. “I don’t know who or what you are, but you stay away from my family and me.”

“Y/N/N, baby, it’s me." Sam gently steps forward and stops the door. "We met Thanksgiving 2002,” he offers. “I saved you from a werewolf, you clung to me the whole night, and I started falling for you right then. I had to convince my dad to let me stay, I told him it was for school, but it’s ‘cause I wanted to stay close to you. The first time you said ‘I love you’ was Valentine’s Day; we went to The Tavern, and you were concerned about the prices. The day you told me you were pregnant– it was one of the happiest days of my life, even though I was scared shitless. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you again at Joe’s. I wanted to tell you right then and there how much I missed you; how sorry I was–”

“You’re rambling,” I murmur, reaching out and pressing my palm to his cheek, and he leans into my touch. Sam wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tightly as if he’s afraid to let me go.

“What– what’re you doing here? How–?” I mumble into his chest.

“Cas,” Sam takes a deep breath. I let him hold on to me while I try to keep myself calm. “Told us you were in Lawrence; I can’t tell you how pissed Dean–” I pull away slightly, and Sam shakes his head. “Quick search gave me your address,” he gives me an embarrassed smile that quickly fades. Sam’s embrace around me loosens, and I step back to scan his face. The dark circles under his eyes hint at the fact that it’s probably been days since he last slept. “I guess I should have called first?” Sam lets out a laugh that seems to be hiding pained thoughts.

“It’s not that,” I shake my head. “I– I can’t believe you’re here. I didn’t think–”

Sam takes my hand in his rubbing it gently, and gives me a small smile. His brow furrows, and his smile quickly fades as his eyes travel down toward our connected hands.

“You’re married,” Sam states, brushing his thumb over the ring on my finger. “Of course you are." He lets go and shakes his head, seemingly in disbelief. “I’ll just– I’ll go. I don’t–”

“Wait, Sam,” I stop him. “Come in, please,” I insist. Sam nods his head warily, and I step aside so that he can walk in. I can hardly form a coherent thought as he walks into my house. He doesn’t make it far in before stopping, reaching out to touch a photo hanging on the wall. Even without a clear view, I know it’s of Cordy, taken only a few weeks ago on the first day of school. The smile that forms on Sam’s face is instant, and I can see his eyes beginning to water.

“Corie, she’s– she’s beautiful, Y/N/N,” he says, eyes never leaving the frame.

I join him in front of the photo, and I watch as he studies it intensely. "Let's talk," I whisper as I move away from the wall and towards the kitchen. My eyes immediately fall on Sammy when I walk back in, who’s keeping himself busy with one of his many toys, smiling at the random noises coming from him. I turn around when I can no longer feel Sam’s presence behind me, and I see him staring blankly at Sammy through the mesh material.

“You– you had a baby,” Sam murmurs, taking his eyes off the toddler and gives me a sad smile. “I’m happy for you, Y/N/N,” Sam’s words are hollow. “I'm sure Corie’s a great big sister."

“She tries,” I laugh slightly, “maybe Dean could–”

“Dean’s dead.” Sam cuts me off, his bluntness taking me by surprise. “He sacrificed himself so that we could be together– our family could be together,” Sam’s jaw clenches slightly, and his face reddens. “But I come back here, and you’re married, and have another kid–”

“Sam,” I move towards him. I know how it must look—that shortly after we last saw each other, I found someone else; that I replaced him. “I need to tell you–”

“No, Y/N/N, you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Voice laced with anger, Sam stiffens before taking a few steps back. “It’s been three years,” He turns around and heads back towards the front of the house. "I couldn’t expect you to wait around forever, could I?”

“Sam–!” I try to get his attention before he leaves, but he ignores me. I grab Sammy and chase him down as best I can with a toddler in my arms.

“I just– I want to be in Corie’s life, Y/N/N,” Sam says as he reaches for the door. “I want to know my daughter, and I want her to know me. I’m out of the life. Without Dean, I can’t do it; I’m not a hunter anymore. Talk it over with your husband; I’ll do whatever you want, Y/N/N, please, just don’t keep Corie away from me.”

“Sam, wait, please–” He’s halfway across the lawn when I stop him, my free hand landing on his shoulder. Sam stills but doesn’t turn around. I walk around him so that I’m standing in front of him. Sam’s eyes are bloodshot, tears flowing freely from them as he stares at the ground. “Stay.”

“I can’t,” Sam looks up to meet my gaze. “I can’t stay and not be with you, Y/N/N. You and Corie– You’re a real family now,” his eyes briefly land on Sammy again, who’s tugging at the necklace Sam gave me. “I’m not going to stand in your way. You and your husband–”

“Stop, Sam,” I plead, reaching up to wipe his tear-stained cheeks. “I’m so sorry about Dean.”

“We didn’t have any other choice,” Sam murmurs, leaning into my touch as I tuck back some of his fallen hair behind his ear. “Dean, he– he made me promise to come to find you, get our family back. Said that he wanted us to be together, made Cas tell me where you were. I-I didn’t think...” Sam shakes his head and his voice trembles. “I-I wanna stay nearby so that I can stay close to Corie.”

“Mama, look!” Sammy points to Jason’s truck as it pulls into the driveway and tries to squirm out of my hold. “Daddy!” By the time Sammy is down, Jason is already heading towards us. Sammy is wobbly on his feet as he makes for Jason, who lifts him into his arms, causing a giggle to leave Sammy.

“Hey, babe,” Jason places a light kiss on my lips and lets his free hand around settle on my waist. “Who’s this?”

“Jason, this is Sam,” I say cautiously. Jason’s brows raise in surprise as he seemingly puts it together. Sam doesn’t move, only narrowing his eyes on Jason. “Sam, this is Jason.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jason offers his hand to Sam, and I know he’s trying to play nice. Sam doesn’t move, giving him a tight-lipped smile and a nod. Jason closes his hand and brings it back to his side. “I’m gonna take him inside,” Jason gestures to Sammy, breaking the growing tension between the three of us. “I can hear this one’s stomach growling,” he jokes. “You hungry, buddy?”

Sammy nods his head excitedly, and Jason lets him down onto the grass. Sammy is tugging at his arm, guiding Jason back towards the house.

“It was nice meeting you, Sam,” Jason says after taking a few steps away from us. Sam doesn’t respond again, only giving another nod.

Jason disappears back inside the house, leaving Sam and me alone on the lawn. I don’t know how to tell him everything that I need to.

“He’s cute,” Sam says half-heartedly, and I lift my brow in confusion, “The kid. I guess your husband is too. How long have you been together?”

“Jason isn’t– we’re not married,” I finally get the chance to correct him. “He proposed a couple of weeks ago.”

“Is he good to you?” Sam takes a step closer to me. “He treats you and Corie right? Because if he’s not–”

“He’s been good for us, all of us. Stepped into a role when he could’ve run the other direction,” I laugh slightly.

I can see that Sam has more questions, but my front yard’s public nature makes it difficult. Realizing that Cordy will be home in a couple of hours, I suggest going somewhere more private, promising to answer all of his questions. Sam agrees, and I run back into the house to redress and tell Jason that Sam and I need to discuss everything alone. Jason hesitates, but he reluctantly agrees that it would be for the best. I leave him and Sammy with a kiss, promising to be back in a few hours.

"Dean said that you came to the hospital." Sam sits down across from me at the diner, nodding politely at the waitress as she drops off our two coffees.

"I had to," I murmur, bringing the ceramic cup to my lips and taking a sip. "I'm sorry that I didn't stay. I wanted to, but something about Ezekiel and what Dean wanted him to do, it didn't feel right."

"It's okay," Sam assures me and reaches across the table to take my hand in his. "Ezekiel, he– he wasn’t who he said he was, he lied to Dean from the start, didn’t even tell him his real name, Gadreel. When Dean became suspicious, Gadreel– he locked me away inside my mind, and used my body to kill innocent people,” Sam tears his gaze away from mine and brings his hand back into his lap. “It’s good that you left. You and Corie, you– you wouldn’t have been safe if you stayed.”

Sam spends the better part of the next hour filling me in on everything that happened since we’d last seen each other. I don’t know how to tell Sam about Sammy, and for a brief moment, I consider letting him think that Sammy isn’t his, but quickly decide against it. Sam's face lights up when I tell him, and tears fill his eyes as I pull out my phone to show him the trove of photos of Sammy and Cordy. If Sam was truly out, then I had to give him the chance to be a part of our lives, didn’t I? Cordy and Sammy deserve the chance to know Sam, the Sam I fell in love with.

It’s late by the time I return, and I do everything I can to act as if everything is normal. Cordy, Sammy, and Jason are curled up on the couch, watching a movie, and I greet them quickly before heading upstairs. Cordy calls out for me to join them, causing Jason to turn around and take in my appearance. I tell her I’ll be back down after a shower, and I see Jason getting up out of the corner of my eye.

I don’t realize that Jason is behind me until I hear the door closing only moments after walking into my room.

"I think we should talk," He murmurs, closing the gap between us. I fiddle with the ring on my finger and move towards the bed, taking a seat on the edge. "About us, the kids; about Sam," I nod, and my eyes stay fixated on the ring on my finger. “Whatever happened today, just- just don’t lie, Y/N, please, no matter how difficult the truth is.”

“Okay,” I nod again, and Jason places a kiss on my temple.

“You told me that Sam disappeared,” Jason moves down so that our eyes can meet. “Did you know that he was going to show up here today?”

The topic of Sam was a difficult one for me to breach with Jason. He’s never pushed me for more information than what I am willing to give him. When we first started dating, Sammy was only a few months old. I had finally come to terms with the fact that Sam was most likely dead or worse. Radio silence from Dean seemingly confirmed my suspicions, and I allowed myself to move on, to fall in love again. My feelings for Sam never disappeared, they stayed deep inside me, and when I saw him again, they all came rushing to the surface.

"No," I answer honestly. "The last time I saw Sam, he was in a coma. His brother and I couldn’t agree on what to do. Dean wanted to use,” I hesitate, “extreme measures, I had just found out I was pregnant with Sammy, and I couldn’t–” I don’t know how to explain it to Jason; how I seemingly took Cordy and ran away. I try to find something that resembles the truth. “He was dying, I wanted him to get better, but I couldn’t watch him become an empty shell of himself. Dean had medical power of attorney, and I had no chance of winning any contestation. Legally, Sam’s not Cordy’s dad; there was nothing I could do. Cordy and I said goodbye, and we left. I thought he died since we didn’t hear from either of them again.”

Jason listens carefully and takes a deep breath before speaking again. Whatever it is, I can tell it's going to be difficult. “Did anything happen while you were with him?"

I’m caught off-guard by the question, and guilt begins to fill every inch of my body. I look away from Jason and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is mussed, and my lips are still swollen; it couldn’t be any more obvious what happened. Jason is studying me when I face him again, and tears fill my eyes. I don’t want to admit what Sam and I did less than two hours ago.

“Jason, please," I beg, my shame taking over. “I can’t.”

"Please, Y/N," he demands softly, and a choked sob leaves me. “Did you kiss him?” I nod my head and Jason tenses. I glance up and see a mixture of anger and sadness at my confession, which only makes me cry harder.

“Did you–” Jason struggles to get the words out, and I fear I know exactly what his next question will be. “Did you sleep with him?”

"I'm sorry!" I cry, and Jason moves away from me at my confession. He paces the floor in front of me, face growing redder by the second, his jaw clenches, and I see him ball his fists. “I didn’t– I wasn’t– It just happened.”

"It just happened?" Jason stops in his tracks, questioning me in disbelief. "You don't accidentally sleep with someone who isn't your fiancé, Y/N!"

“I- I know,” I sob, barely able to choke out the words. “It all hap-happened so fast," I try to explain myself. “One minute we were talking and the next Sam was kissing me and then…”

"I don't need the details, Y/N," Jason snaps. "Just tell me, why?"

"I don't know. I wasn't thinking. I needed closure; we've never been able to give each other a proper goodbye."

"And sleeping with him got you that?!" He asks in a hushed yell. If the kids weren't downstairs, we'd be in a screaming match right now. "A proper goodbye? So does that mean Sam's leaving? That he’s going to give you and Cordy and Sammy up? Disappear from our lives forever?"

"I-I don't know," I say between sniffs.

Jason storms out of the room, leaving me alone with my guilt. Jason had been there for Sammy’s birth, holding my hand the entire time. He stepped into the role of step-father when he could’ve walked away. Jason is the only father Sammy has ever known; Cordy took longer to warm up to him, still holding out hope that Sam would be a part of our lives again one day. Jason and I discussed him adopting both Cordy and Sammy after we were married, but now that Sam is back, I’m questioning everything.

When Jason returns half an hour later, he’s calmer than before, but I can still see the anger written on his face. He didn’t deserve what Sam and I did to him, and I wouldn’t blame him for leaving me—us. I watch closely as he walks over to the bed and sits down next to me.

“Are you still in love with Sam?” Jason hesitantly asks and takes my hand in his, his thumb grazing over the ring. “Do you want to be with him?”

“He’s Cordy and Sammy’s dad; a part of me will always love him.”

“That’s not what I asked, Y/N,” Jason gently grabs my chin and turns my face towards him. “Are you in love with Sam?” He asks more pointedly.

“I– I don’t know,” I murmur.

“Y/N,” he sighs, “I love you, and if you tell me this won’t ever happen again, I am ready to find a way for us to work through it. But you have to decide what you want, who you want: Sam, or me.”

I let his words sink in, wondering if the situations were reversed if I would be able to do the same. I can’t tell him something like that will never happen again because I don’t know if I can ever trust myself to not fall back into Sam’s arms. Sam was all I ever wanted for ten years, but I had to put my feelings for him aside so that I could focus on Cordy and Sammy; I have to do what’s best for them.

“I’m going to stay at my house tonight.” Jason’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Think about what I’ve said.” He leans down and places a kiss on my forehead.

“Jason,” I reach for his hand, “I never meant to hurt you.”

He smiles sadly, then leaves. I hear him say goodbye to Cordy and Sammy. The silence that follows when the front door closes breaks my heart. A few minutes later, Cordy carries Sammy into my room, and they both crawl into my bed. She’s old enough to understand that something happened between Jason and me. I don’t know if I should tell her of Sam’s return and decide against it. I’m not ready to answer the questions that will inevitably follow. The three of us fall asleep together; Sammy sandwiched between Cordy and me.

When I wake up the next morning, I know what I want. I know who I want. He was the last thing to cross my mind before I fell asleep and the first thing I thought of when I woke up.

I reach for my phone and send him a message asking him to come over as soon as possible. He replies quickly, telling me he will be over shortly. I put the phone down and turn to wake Cordy and Sammy. She grumbles, but I give her a little nudge and ask her to wait downstairs. Cordy sends me a questioning look through her sleepy features, but she complies when I tell her it’s important.

Cordy’s still half-asleep on the couch when I make my way down, Sammy propped on my hip, also unable to keep his eyes open. My whole body is shaking with nerves as I impatiently wait for him to arrive.

Three light raps on the door have me on my feet in seconds, racing towards the future with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I swing the door open, letting him step into the house, and he wraps his arms around Sammy and me, holding onto us as tight as he can. I relax into his embrace and breathe in his familiar scent.

As I pull away, I let my eyes fall on his familiar features. I run my free hand through his hair, and a smile appears on his lips. He leans down to press a gentle yet eager kiss on my lips. His rough, calloused fingers tenderly brush against Sammy’s face, and tears fill his eyes as he takes in the little boy’s features. I hand Sammy over to him and notice how small the toddler looks wrapped in his arms. He closes his eyes in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, but when he opens them again, I see the kaleidoscope of blues and greens that I had fallen in love with all those years ago.

“Cordy,” I call into the living room, “come here, please.”

I can hear the padding of Cordy’s feet as she mumbles about it being too early to be up. When she turns the corner, Cordy’s eyes widen, and a broad smile spreads across her face. She runs towards us, ready to jump into his arms.

"Dad!"

A/N 3: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it! I did not intend on this chapter on being as long as it is, but, sometimes you can't stop yourself from writing!

Did you love it? Hate it? Please give a reblog or send an ask and let me know what you think of this final chapter!

Elastic Heart Tags @manawhaat @that-one-gay-girl @awesomesusiebstuff @mrswhozeewhatsis @ilovetaquitosmmmm @suckmyapplejacks @traceyaudette

Forever Tags: @akshi8278

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn family

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milfjensenackles · 4 years ago

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love, dean

1.3k words | read it on ao3

Sam suggests that Dean try journaling after losing Cas. Dean starts writing letters to Cas.

November 30, 2020

Sam told me I should try journaling, so here we are. Still seems like stupid hippie crap to me, but I promised him I’d write something down. He says that after everything we’ve been through, with defeating God and all that, it might be therapeutic to write down my thoughts. So here are my thoughts: journaling is stupid.

December 1, 2020

What am I even supposed to write in here? My feelings? I ain’t got any of those. That’s Sam stuff. Fuck this. Fuck everything. Cas is gone, Jack is gone, and Sam thinks it’ll get better if I jot down some notes? Whatever.

December 7, 2020

I want to drink, but I know Cas wouldn’t like it if I went down that rabbit hole again. So I’m writing down my ‘feelings’ instead. I’m doing this for Cas, though. Not my annoying little brother. I haven’t told anyone this, but Sam keeps asking what happened when Cas was taken by the Empty. He saved me. Cas made a deal with the Empty without telling me. That stupid bastard. He should’ve told me. We could have saved him. He said that the Empty would only take him if he experienced ‘a moment of true happiness’. Cas said that I made him care about the rest of the world. Me, of all people. I don’t know what he sees saw in me. I remember feeling like something was wrong. I knew something was wrong because Cas never cries, and he was really putting on the waterworks at this point. And then Cas told me I can’t write that down. That would make it real.

Maybe I’ll use this notebook to write what I would say to Cas if he was still here. Yeah. That’ll be good.

December 11, 2020

Cas,

Today Jack came to visit. He’s been working real hard lately. Being God has to be a tough job, huh? Good thing you we raised him so well. I can tell he misses you. Sam brought up the time we all watched a few episodes of Riverdale with Jack and you couldn’t understand why high schoolers had gotten involved with an organ harvesting cult. To be fair, I don’t get it either. Should we even be letting a 3-year-old watch that show? I wish you were here to answer that question. I don’t know to be a good parent. It always came to you so naturally. We all miss you. I miss you.

Dean

December 15, 2020

Dear Cas,

I adopted a dog. Her name is Miracle. I think you’d love her. She’s a shaggy little thing who loves to snuggle. Sam and Eileen are doing well. I think they might move out of the bunker soon. I’m happy for them, I am. I just don’t want to be all alone in this huge bunker. I don’t know what else to say. If you were here I wouldn’t have to worry about being alone.

Dean

December 25, 2020

Merry Christmas, Cas.

December 31, 2020

Hey Cas,

I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said before you died left. I don’t know how to be the man you thought I was. It’s gonna be a new year though. New year, new me, right? If you were here you’d probably say something about how time doesn’t change anything or whatever. I don’t I want I have no idea how to start this new year without you. I want to stay in 2020 forever, because at least then I could say that I saw you this year. The more time goes by, the more I feel like I’m getting further away from you. It scares me. I don’t want to forget about you. You were are my best friend.

Happy New Year, Cas.

Dean

January 5, 2020

Cas,

I’m so fucking pissed at you. How dare you tell me you love me and then go and die on me? I didn’t ask you to sacrifice yourself for me. I didn’t ask for any of this. You said, ‘happiness is in just saying it’, but what if I’m not happy with just saying it? What if I want to have? You said you couldn’t have me, Cas, but you didn’t even ask. You never asked. You should have asked.

Love, Dean

January 10, 2020

Cas,

I think I’m in love with you.

Dean

January 11, 2021

Hey Cas,

I’ve never understood all of these feelings until now. Maybe journaling is actually good for something. Don’t tell Sammy I said that. Writing that message to you yesterday was like chewing on glass. I don’t know why I’m like this. I don’t know why I couldn’t tell you while you were still here. I think I’ve loved you for longer than I’ve known. Maybe since Purgatory. Maybe before that. I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know anything anymore. One second you were here, and now you’re gone, and I have nowhere to put all of this. I loved love you, Cas. I just wish I hadn’t been too late.

Love, Dean

January 15, 2021

Cas,

I told Sam. About your sacrifice, about what you said, about my feelings. He seemed sad and happy at the same time. I told him I like you the same way I like women. Sam said that means I’m bisexual. He was really cool about it. I’m not sure I’m ready to put a label on it, though. I just want to be myself. And I know that I’m the best version of myself when I was am with you.

Love, Dean

January 16, 2021

Cas,

I am a bisexual man. And I’m in love with my dead best friend. There, I said it. Ya happy? I’m talking to a piece of paper. I’m going crazy.

Love, Dean

January 24, 2021

Cas,

Jody and the girls stopped by for my birthday. Claire and Kaia are doing really well. Jack was so excited to see them. It was nice to see him act like a kid for once. He’s got so much pressure on him right now. Claire called me an old man, which I guess is true now, huh. 42 years old. I never thought I’d make it this far. It seems unfair that life keeps moving on without you. We should’ve had the chance to grow old together, Cas.

Love, Dean

January 27, 2021

Cas,

I gotta find you, man. There’s gotta be a way. Sam’s been doing research on the Empty to figure something out but it’s driving me crazy that I can’t do more. I just want you to know that I’m not giving up. If you were here, you’d be able to help us think of a plan. But you’re not here.

Love, Dean

January 30, 2021

Cas,

We figured out a way to get to the Empty. I’m going alone. Sam is going to wait at the bunker to make sure the portal stays open long enough for me to find you. I didn’t tell Sam this, but I have no idea if I’ll make it out alive. I know I won’t come back without you, even if it means I have to stay there forever. I’d give everything just to make sure you know how much you mean to me. Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.

Love, Dean

February 14, 2021

Hey Cas,

You’re back. I got you back. I got to hold you in my arms for the first time in so long. It doesn’t even feel real. I missed you so much. I can tell there’s something going on between us, though. I think you’re waiting for me to say it first. You know I’m no good with words, which is why I’ve decided that I’m going to let you read these letters I wrote to you. So, Cas. I love you. So much. I’m sorry it took us so long to get here. Never leave me again.

Love, Dean

February 14, 2021

Dean,

I love you too.

Love, Cas

#destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel #deancas #spn fic #lauren writes

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waejinyoung · 4 years ago

Text

Can’t Swim - EP . 5

word count: 4.4k+

a/n: a quicker comeback unlike last time. i know the ending might annoy some people but i wanted to try out a cliffhanger having got the chance.

warning: swearing, thats it lol

EP . 1 , EP . 2 , EP . 3 , EP . 4 , EP . 5 , EP . 6 , EP .7 , EP . 8 , EP . 9

Well, Friday was unexpected. Friday answered many things. Jinyoung’s job. Jinyoung’s friends. Your feelings. Jinyoung’s feelings towards your feelings. So much happened in one day even you couldn’t believe your life had gotten so much action.

Now it was the weekend and luckily you had things to do to take yesterday’s doings off your mind. The eco-hotel.

Saturday Midday

You had Beck come over for the weekend to work on the eco-hotel together. The sheets for the new hotel plans were distributed across the living room floor and the sun was at its peak. You went over to your air con and switched it on. Beck wasn’t a stranger, so you were dressed in a pair of shorts and an oversized short sleeved top. Your hair was up in a messy bun with a pencil behind your ear. You had all your equipment around the room. To be completely honest, the room was an organised mess. Note the word organised.

“Y/N can we take a break? It’s boiling in this room.” Beck looked absolutely drained from the morning session working to finish the eco-hotel.

“I was about to ask the same thing. Want an ice cream or a cold drink?” You signalled that you were gonna head to the kitchen.

“A cold cup of water should do. I’ll be out on the balcony.” You headed over to your kitchen and grabbed a glass of cold water for both of you.

You made sure to manoeuvre through the sheets of paper without dropping a single drop on the them. You gave the drink to Beck. He downed the whole glass in seconds.

“Beck, if you were this thirsty you’re no stranger you could have gotten some water.” You chuckled at his obvious thirst. You sipped some of your water.

“I didn’t even realise how thirsty I was either. Let me go grab another glass.” Beck went back to grab more water.

“Be careful of all the sheets on the floor. No frog movements please, just be extremely careful.” You shouted back into your home hoping he got the message.

You thought to yourselves how you’ll be able to have all the drawings done for Monday morning. You and Beck decided that it was both of your faults for having one of the pieces of land stolen from the next door firm. Hence why you called off all your employees that were working on this project. So, it was just you and Beck until Monday morning

“It’s going to be a rough weekend isn’t it?” Beck came back onto the balcony and saw your nervous face.

“I’m so scared we won’t finish it on time. I even considered calling the client and completely blowing off the project.”

“Good thing you didn’t. I believe we can do it. Even if it does mean less hours of sleep. This is nothing new Y/N. This has been our lives since the first year of architecture school.”

“Speak for yourself. I didn’t cut any hours of sleep for our under grad.”

“That’s true and somehow you still completed your work with flying colours.” You brushed your shoulders and flicked your hair trying to act out the phrase ‘what can I say? I’m that good’ in actions.

“Don’t get too happy. We need those skills back in action until the end of this project.”

“I think what hurts is that this project is actually finished but the client wants hand drawings as well as digital orthographics. Who even wants hand drawings anymore?” You sighed at the unnecessary request by the client.

“Ya! Don’t say that, especially not near the client.”

“I know, I know. He’s a big deal. Everyone knows him and his creations. Who thought he’d want a hotel built in a small town like Jinhae?”

“I guess he heard about the increasing number of tourists coming to Jinhae, especially during the cherry blossom season. If you ask me, it’s a smart move.” You nodded in agreement.

“Come on, let’s get back to work. Enough chit chat.” You headed back into the living room. Beck straight behind you.

“I finished the floor plans. So, we have elevations and sections to draw. We’ve done the axonometric drawings digitally anyways. Mr Chan is gonna have to excuse us for one missing drawing. I may try and do it if we have enough time.” Beck looked at you with a shocked expression.

“You have all the plans done already? Why in hell are we stressing then?” Beck had a smile on his face. Why in hell is he smiling?

“Why are you smiling? We still have so much to do, come on.” You faffed your hands around trying to get Beck to now focus on his work.

“Okay, okay! I’m working.” You guys returned to working at a reasonably fast pace hoping to have most of the drawings done by the end of today.

6:00 PM

You both ended the day by 6:00 pm. You guys had most of the drawings done by then anyways. Beck had never actually had a sit down session alongside you and was shocked at how quick you were. You were done with your drawings, but he had a couple left which you guys both agreed on finishing for Sunday. You still insisted for him to stay the whole weekend which was the original plan.

You guys made eye contact having declared that was enough for the day.

“Takeout.” You both mouthed to each other at the same time.

“Great minds think alike.” Beck exclaimed as you grabbed your phone to call in your usual order. Pizza. A food that’s simple, easy and you just can’t go wrong with.

“Can you order a x-large for today? I’m feeling extra hungry.”

“Alrighty, give me a second?” You rang up the usual place and processed your order. The person on the other end of the call took your order and read back that it should be there in 20 minutes.

“We have 20 minutes to kill. What do we do?”

“I think you should make a call to the leisure centre too.”

“Why?” Were you missing something?

“The meeting is at 11:00 am. Your swimming lesson?”

“Ah shit. I was looking forward for that lesson too. Maybe I can move the lesson so it’s after the meeting. Are we available then?”

“Bad news. The client said to leave the rest of the day free after the meeting. He didn’t say exactly why but I say we listen to him.”

You were looking forward to seeing Jinyoung. More than that whenever you couldn’t make it for your lessons, Max would be the one to cover for your group. Although, everyone knew that wasn’t a good option considering the awkward situation. But you had no choice, it was now up to Jooheon to solve the issue.

You dialled Jooheon’s number.

“Hey Y/N!” He seemed really cheery. You were sure the news you were gonna give him now would kill the mood.

“Hi Jooheon, got some bad news.”

“What is it?”

“You know about the eco-hotel… The presentation for the project is at 11:00 am on Monday meaning I won’t be able to come for the 10:00 am beginners class.”

“That’s fine. I’ll let Max know he has a cover for Monday.”

You waited in silence hoping Jooheon got the idea why it was bad news.

“Oh shit…” Took him long enough.

“Yh… hence why I said bad news.”

“We don’t have anyone else free during that period too. You know about that.”

“I was going to see if we could rearrange the time but turns out the client wants the whole day off with us. No clue why.”

“I’ll talk with Max, you don’t worry. If you can contact Jinyoung prior to the lesson too that would be great.”

“I’ll try my best to squeeze in some time. We are busy as you could imagine.”

“You guys get back to work. I’ll solve the problem. You don’t need to worry. If that’s all I need to get back to my own work too. Talk to you later Y/N!”

“Thank you so much Jooheon!”

You hung up.

“Sorted?”

You nodded at Beck.

The afternoon continued calmly, and you guys discussed the eco-hotel presentation that’ll take place. The pizza arrived and you guys tucked into your food. Your anxiety was growing as the minutes went by. How was Monday going to turn out?

…

Sunday Evening

You guys were actually ready. You both were shocked after rehearsing the presentation for the 10th time how well produced all the work was.

“I wouldn’t have even thought that I’d be getting a night’s sleep before this meeting.”

“I think sleep was the big motivator. You know how I can last on a hand full amount of sleep.”

“That’s true. You’re useless when it comes to working during the night.”

“Wooow, rude much.”

“I’m kidding. You performed really well. You reminded me why I partnered with you to start up a company.” You smiled at this compliment.

“You gonna stay over tonight as well or crash at home?”

“Could I stay over so we can just go to the meeting together tomorrow?”

“Yeah sure, this is like your second home after all. I feel like you’d also want to take advantage of my signature breakfast.”

“Was I that obvious?” Beck laughed at his failed attempt.

“I can read you like a book. You don’t need to hide your intentions.”

“Damn it.”

“I’ll prepare the long awaited breakfast tomorrow morning. Be up for 9:00 am. Set an alarm if you have to. I’ll tuck into breakfast with or without you.” You headed over to your bedroom and waved Jooheon goodnight.

“Goodnight! Sleep tight, don’t let the cantilevers bite.”

You went back to react to his really dead architecture joke.

“Get in the bin.” With Beck laughing at this really bad joke, you went back into your room and headed off to bed.

…

Monday morning

“Beck get your ass up its 9!” Typical, he hadn’t moved a single inch for the past minute that his alarm has been going off for.

“Y/N 5 more minutes.”

“5 more minutes and you’ll get no breakfast.”

“Breakfast…BREAKFAST!” Beck jumped out of the bed and flung himself grabbing some clothing on the way straight to do bathroom.

“This guy” You laughed at his reaction.

You left him to get ready and went back to the balcony and poured both of you some rich black tea. You settled in your usual seat and started filling your plate with all the different delicacies you laid on the table earlier on.

“You’ve done it again! I love these Mediterranean breakfasts you make. I need to come here more often.”

“Be my guest. It’s sometimes lonely enjoying a feast alone.”

“I could imagine. Although, that should have changed no?” What was he on about?

“Once you’re gone I’ll be back to having lonely breakfasts.”

“No, I mean you and your new boyfriend. When were you planning on telling me? You’ve been silent all weekend about it- “

“Boyfriend?? In who’s world did you hear that I have a boyfriend?” You used all your strength to not spit out the tea you had just sipped.

“The singer-actor guy? What was his name again? You were making headlines with him all weekend have you not checked your phone at all?”

You leaped back inside and grabbed your phone. No messages. No calls. What? Was this some kind of joke?

“Beck I haven’t got a single notification. Are you taking the piss?”

He grabbed your phone from you and enabled your WIFI. He knew you would switch it off whenever you had important things to do like this weekend. As soon as your phone connected to your router, all sorts of things flooded your phone screen. You took it back off him and read all the headlines.

Love strikes under the full moon

Waves were not the only things crashing that night

GOT7’s Jinyoung and his secret lover

Who could she be?

Secret Girlfriend and Aspiring Actor kicking it off on the Beach

“You’ve got to be kidding me?! Right before an important meeting as well. The company’s image. My image. My parents. How in the hell did this all happen?”

“Y/N sit down. It’s kinda late. You’ll just have to explain everything to whoever asks. Don’t worry about the company’s image, we all know how hardworking and talented you are.”

“Give me a sec. I need to make a call.” Jinyoung must have seen all the news too. You gave him a ring but no answer. He might be thinking that he’ll speak at one point during the leisure centre and you hadn’t found the time to let him know you won’t be in.

“Y/N calm down. Focus on the meeting please. You can sort out whatever this is afterwards.” You sat back down and tried to calm yourself down. Beck was right. You guys had an important meeting to focus on.

“Sorry.”

“Y/N shut up. I don’t want to hear it. Eat up, we have a long day ahead of ourselves.”

You tried to eat something, but it just wouldn’t work. Every mouthful felt like labour. You guys cleared up the table and went to prep for the meeting. You brushed your teeth and took a quick shower. You knew you were ready for this meeting, now it was just time to act on what you knew. You took out a pair of cream shorts alongside a white oversized tank top and a brown belt. You grabbed your nude heals and the gold accessories off your drawers to put on as you left. You had your hair wavey from your twisted bun that you always slept with in and a little mascara, the usual. Beck had loaded your car with all the sheets to pin up for the meeting alongside all the small scale models you had at your house.

You locked your house and ran to your car. Beck was ready in the passenger’s seat running over the minor things on his iPad.

“Have you rung the company to check the room is prepared, refreshments all that jazz.”

“Erm… yeah but there’s apparently loads of paparazzi that security is trying to hold off.” Your head shot towards Beck. As if that was needed.

“Guess we are entering through the back entrance. Call the client at let him know to do the same.”

“On it.” Thank god for Beck.

…

20 minutes later

You were driving past the usual entrance of the company and saw the tons of people that the security was blocking off. In a million years you wouldn’t have thought you’d have paparazzi at your company door.

“Can today get any worse?” You questioned out loud.

“Don’t say that. Just get in through the back, it’ll be over soon.”

Your receptionist let you through the back entrance and you guys moved to the meeting room that was prepped for the meeting.

“The room looks great. Just like how we agreed on.” You smiled at your receptionist.

“The presentation team did a great job. I’ll treat them for a meal.” Beck offered. You agreed with his statement.

“Mr Chan should be here in 30 minutes. Let’s pin up the sheets and bring all the models to this room.” You both left your belongings in the room and went down to the fabrication labs down stairs. To head to fabrication, you guys had to walk past the front entrance. You peaked to see if the people had gone but no. It had gotten worse. There were more people we even bigger cameras. How on earth?

JINYOUNG’S POV

You were right on time for your lesson. You and the kids were waiting at the pool side for Y/N. You kind of felt giddy after what happened on Friday. What stage would you call you and Y/N now? You checked the clock and saw that she was 5 minutes late. This didn’t seem like Y/N, she’s always early. Or has been for the past 2 lessons anyways.

“Woojin, is Miss ever late?” Woojin shook his head no.

Jaehyun heard from his dock and decided to let you know about the news.

“Jinyoung hyung, Y/N has a really important meeting today. She called in to say she won’t be making it for this lesson meaning Max will be taking over for today.”

Max… is taking over? This isn’t going to go well.

“Thanks, Jaehyun.” Jaehyun saluted which is his way of saying ‘no problem’.

You were thinking why Y/N wouldn’t have told you until you realised… the missed call this morning. She tried to get in contact with you, but you weren’t available. Damn it.

“Jaehyun, do you know where Y/N’s company building is at?”

“Yh, it’s the one and only big fancy glass building in the town centre.” She works there? She’s very humble for a CEO.

“Right, I’ll be absent for today. You can let Max know when he does the register. Also, what time is the meeting?”

“It starts at 11:00 am, why did you ask?”

“I’m going to attend.”

Jaehyun started cackling, “Do you think you can just walk into a client meeting? You must be mad. Jinyoung hyung it’s a serious meeting, you can’t just barge in.”

“Fine, I’m going to wait for there then.”

“No can do.” Max was behind you ask he listened to the conversation. You turned around to face Max.

“I can leave if I want.”

“Kids, do we want Jinyoung to leave this lesson? We all want him to stay don’t we?” You couldn’t believe he was going to use the kids as bait for you to stay.

“Yes, Jinyoung oppa please stay!”

“Jinyoung hyung, don’t go!”

The kids started whining, hoping you would stay for the lesson. He used his weapons well; you couldn’t break the kids’ hearts especially when you knew how much Y/N cares for the kids. You were gonna stay for her sake.

You knelt down to the kids and gave them a smile, “Fine, I’ll stay.”

You gave a glance to Max and hopefully you both sided with getting through this lesson without any disruptions. And so, the lesson commenced.

“We will be doing a test today.”

“A test?”, Hyungwon gulped, “But Miss didn’t mention a test last week?”

“Well Hyungwon, this is a surprise test. I’ll be marking everyone on how well they perform on the things Miss taught in the past 2 weeks.” This guy is doing this on purpose.

“How will you be marking us?” You spoke up.

“3 columns. Speed. Technique. A race. The place you come in the race will determine how many points you get for the ‘race’ column.”

“I’m gonna beat you all.” Woojin was already hyped to get the highest score. You would have probably been as excited as Woojin if the teacher was different.

“Right, we will be starting with Technique. I’ll be going off the register order so line up in that order and I’ll be testing your technique swimming front stroke.” You lined up along with the kids. You were obviously last.

Max got to you. You had a feeling he was gonna try and do everything to give you a bad mark. You remembered all the things Y/N had taught you and starting swimming to the area Max marked. You hated that this man was good at something you weren’t. Knowing he was ahead in something gave him more say and material on you.

“I feel sad for Y/N,” You waited for him to continue to see what he meant, “For having such a crap student.” He jotted down a fat 0 next to your name under the technique column. Jaehyun heard from his dock the comment Max had made and made eye contact with you. He was pleading for you to not react to Max’s words since that was exactly what he wanted to do. You clenched your fists and took a deep breath. You weren’t gonna lose this easily.

“I feel sad for Y/N too. Different reason though.” You gave Max a dirty look so he got the idea that you were referring to him in some way.

“Max hyung, are we moving onto speed now?” Woojin separated both of your focusses onto him.

“Yes Woojin-ah, get ready I’ll be timing you guys. You all have to swim in whichever style you want from one end to another.”

“Get to the side.” Max turned his face back to you and spoke in a demanding tone. He was really grinding your gears. This was going to be a long hour.

Y/N’S POV

“Good morning Mr Chan. I hope your flight yesterday was well.” You shook Mr Chan’s hand as he took his seat in the meeting room.

“Good Morning Miss Y/L/N and Mr Longing. I arrived without any problems. I got some rest too. All in all, I’m ready for today’s meeting.”

“Agreed, Mr Chan. I’ll begin with the site analysis and our response with our design.” You and Beck agreed for Beck to start the meeting and then you to end it.

“So, as you may have heard one of the plots of land were taken out of our hands. There was some complications with the landowners, but we decided that one plot of land was enough to fulfil the criteria of an eco-hotel.” With that Beck continued with explaining the new updates on the hotel design after the land issue.

“Mr Chan, the maquettes and models are laid out in the order of development. This is how the overall design developed into the final result. The 3D printed large model at the end is the final version of the hotel in a simple representation of the surrounding area around it.” You moved towards the model and showed Mr Chan where the sun would be travelling throughout the day. You brought along all the hand drawings from the past couple days too to show what each individual room would look like from all angles.

“These look amazing. I’m really thankful for the models and the drawings, they give a really good idea of what the final outcome will look like.” You and Beck looked at each other and gave a smile. All the hard work you both had put on for the past couple days had come through.

“Although, I wanted to ask one thing.” You diverted your attention to Mr Chan.

“Yes, Mr Chan go ahead.” You were nervous from his sudden question. You were sure you and Beck hadn’t missed out on any information.

“It hasn’t got to do with the project.”

“What exactly are you referring to Mr Chan?”

“You, Miss Y/L/N.” You looked up at Beck. What could Mr Chan want to know about you?

“Go ahead, Mr Chan. I’m listening.” If you were honest, you weren’t feeling well. You started breathing heavier than usual scared of what Mr Chan was going to ask.

“The paparazzi’s at the front door. Why are they here?” Fuck. This should have been something you should have thought about earlier on. You looked at Beck for help. You had no answer to give.

“That wasn’t Miss Y/L/N, Mr Chan. There has been a misunderstanding. The news reports are still speculating who the person is and Miss Y/L/N has just been mistaken for the girl that the actor was with. As you may have seen the photographs were taken at night, so it is hard to tell who it is, as expected.” Beck covered up for you.

“I see… and Miss Y/L/N what do you plan on doing about the news.”

“I’m aiming to get in contact with the actor’s agency to speak up and deny allegations about my involvement since that is the truth. I’ll also be holding a conference soon to news outlets about the situation. I don’t want anything like this to throw dirt under our company’s name.”

“I thought it was you Miss,” Is he being serious?, “I was going to congratulate you on your new relationship. That was the reason for the flowers. You’re also human. I thought you were taking a step forward in your person life. I know about how popular you are among fellow architects, for your work and for you too.” Me? Popular among architects? Step forward in my person life? Can life stop throwing new surprises nowadays, you were happy with your boring life.

“Mr Chan.” Beck addressed your client.

“We thought you would be disappointed about the truth. If that is the case I’d like to firstly apologise for what I just said. I didn’t mean to lie Mr Chan, but we didn’t want anything to cause you to- “

“It’s fine Mr Longing. Congratulations Miss Y/L/N. It’s really nice to see the new generation finding love. I’m sure you have found the right person for you.”

“Mr Chan, I appreciate your comments although it’s a little more complicated than that. We are not exactly dating or haven’t exactly clarified it between ourselves.” You struggled to keep eye contact with your client at this rate. Beck eyed you knowing you could have just suggested that you had a fling days before an important meeting.

“I’m sure you guys will even end up getting married one day. I sensed it when I saw your photos side by side.” You just smiled at Mr Chan’s observations.

“I hope whatever is best for the both of us is what happens.” Mr Chan agreed and focussed back on the project.

“Was there anything else you’d like to ask Mr Chan?” Beck wanted to make sure Mr Chan was completely clear of the new changes in order to process the build.

“Can I decide on which trees and floors to have planted in the hotel? I know the botanic designers tend to do so.”

“Of course, Mr Chan. As long as the greenery you choose passes the climate test meaning they’ll stay alive in Jinhae’s weather conditions, you can choose which ones we decorate the hotel with.”

“Great, that marks the end of the meeting. You guys have done an outstanding job. Better than what I expected. What’s the estimated date of completion?”

“If everything goes well, the hotel should be completely finished and ready for service for the month of March 2022.”

Mr Chan clapped in happiness. You were happy to have made your extremely important client over the moon.

“I’d like to take you guys out for dinner. I hope you guys made sure the rest of your days are free-“

You were getting a call from Jooheon. You never get calls from Jooheon during meetings, he knows not to disturb unless it’s an emergency.

“Mr Chan, could I please take this call?”

“Sure, go ahead. Me and Mr Longing will decide on where to eat.” You smiled and left the meeting room and picked up the call.

“Jooheon, what is it?”

“Y/N.. I-“

“Jooheon please tell me. Did something happen?”

“Jinyoung…He’s in the- “

“The what Jooheon can you just say it already?”

“The hospital.”

“HOSPITAL?!?”

---

Oooooo… the suspense. I haven’t tried these sorts of endings before, so I wanted to give it a shot. I want to leave it up to you guys for now to imagine what may have happened. Until the next episode, see you! Next episode will be extraordinary, you can count on me.

writer-nim x

19 notes · View notes

chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 82

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

The storm rolls in shortly before nine; torrential rain and howling winds that rattle the windows, bend tree branches, and strip them of leaves. Both the thunder and lightning are intense and incessant; resounding booms that seem to shake the entire house and forks of silver that slice through the coal black sky. The sudden change in weather does little to improve Tyler’s mood; the pressure in the air bringing a migraine that settles in both temples and over his left eye. While the sadness and hints of guilt, regret, and even embarrassment have faded, they’ve been replaced with emotions much more profound and unsettling. Immense hatred. Blinding rage. A desperate and powerful want and need for revenge.

It’s been almost three months since it all began. Kicking off with Mahajan’s badgering of his son in regards to taking over the ‘family business’, escalating into threats against his family that grew more disturbing with each passing day, and culminating in an unwanted return to Dhaka. It’s complicated and twisted; each hour brings an added layer that only pushes the finish line further and further away. His physical pain may be worsening; but it’s his mental stability that is the most concerning. Unable to turn off the emotionally driven side of him and solely look at things from a mercenary’s point of view. He knows he’s on the edge; barely hanging on his last shred of sanity. The games have taken their toll; hearing vile things about his wife and children serving as the final nails in the coffin. Even if he does survive with his body intact, he’s not sure if his brain will be as fortunate. It’s a no win situation. Whether it’s a busted up body or a broken mind, he’ll suffer either way. And so will his family.

He places a call to Kyle’s cell phone, grimacing at the pain that shoots through his right leg and across the small of his back as he takes a seat at the end of the bed. Anil had one of his ‘people’ stop by; a physician originally from Mumbai who’d not only taken the CEO position at one of Dhaka’s private hospitals, but holds the utmost contempt for both the ghost of Amir Asif and those still pledging loyalty to him.

“He’s been dead for seven years,” he’d said. “Yet he’s still sending me patients and putting bodies in my morgue. Old, young; his drugs and his people do not discriminate.”

That had been the extent of conversation. No small talk exchanged as he put Tyler through a series of physical tests to determine the state of his mobility issues. The doctor offering little more than heavy sighs and shakes of head as he discovered things were worse than he initially suspected. Torn ligaments and tendons, the disintegration of cartilage, scar tissue. A lengthy list of things that could be causing problems but would definitely have to be properly -and extensively- investigated by a specialist. For the time being, there’s nothing anyone can do, aside from prescribing yet another painkiller with strict orders that someone else be in charge of dispensing it. He can’t be trusted to do it himself; the first one to admit that he has absolutely no control over the demon of drug addiction. And he’d been more than happy to hand over the responsibility; as long as he’d get some relief.

So far he's pleasantly surprised; the two pills he’d taken an hour ago successfully -and quickly- taking the edge off without making him feel ‘doped up’. The pain is still present, but nowhere as intense or unbearable. Relegated to a dull, continuous throb akin to the agony of a bad toothache.

Kyle answers on the third ring, giving a quick ‘hey’ followed by “I’ll get one of the kids for you.” It’s the first time they’ve spoken since right before he and Esme had left for Dhaka; Kyle still sore over the fact he’d been called out for his poor treatment of his sister.

“Hold up,” Tyler says, smirking at the sound of his brother in law’s heavy sigh. “How’s things there? And don’t bullshit me.”

“Things are okay.”

“Okay as in good or okay as in they could be better?"

“If you’re just asking about the kids, then things are okay as in good. Ovi and I are making sure we keep them busy; filling their days up. And they’re happy as they can be when they’re missing both their mom and dad as much as they are. It’s hard on them; both of you being gone. But they’re doing alright. They’re coping. We’re busting our asses to make sure they don’t catch wind of what’s really going on.”

“Thanks for that. Esme and I appreciate it. Keep an eye on Millie though. She figured everything out, and while she promised she wouldn’t say anything to her brothers, I wouldn’t put it past her if they pissed her off enough. Nothing she loves more than tormenting those two.”

Kyle gives a small chuckle. “I’ll keep an eye on her. There hasn’t been any actual fights so far, but she has threatened to beat their asses a few times. You know, she’s a mind fuck that kid. She’s so sweet and cute to look at…

“But she’s a total savage,” Tyler finishes for him.

“Exactly. She doesn’t take any shit. Esme was like that as a kid; no one dared messing with her because she’d beat the ever loving hell out of them. Small, but tough. How is she? She doing okay?”

“She’s hanging in there. Just ready for all this to be over. Sooner the better. Anything going on there? Anything weird or suspicious or…”

“Other than Anil going ape shit on all the nannies and replacing them all? Things have been pretty quiet. There’s been a couple little things here and there; people getting too close to the house, calling here and hanging up, dead cat thrown over the fence.”

“That’s all rookie stuff. Someone trying to unnerve ya. I wouldn’t put too much stock into it; guys who can really do damage start bigger and end even bigger. They don’t bother with bullshit like that. You’ll call, yeah? If things get any weirder?”

“I will,” Kyle promises. “Keep my little sister safe, okay? I wish she wasn’t involved in this at all, but..”

“She’s safe with me. She always is. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do. But I wish she’d never gotten dragged into all of this in the first place. And I’m not talking now. I’m talking seven years ago. If you’d just thought of her instead of yourself…”

“Is that daddy?” Millie’s voice interrupts Kyle before he can launch into his tirade. “Mommy said daddy was going to call us. Is that him? Can I talk to him? I want to talk to him.”

There’s a slight rustling noise as the phone is passed from person to person, and the first smile of the day manages to make its way to his face when his daughter greets him with a cheerful “Hi daddy! I miss you!”

He tries not to think about it; the threat made against her and the knowledge of what would be done to her. She’s only six. Still a baby. HIS baby. “Hey,” he says. “Hey baby girl.”

“Mommy said you’d call and you did! She said you were feeling a bit sad ‘cause you miss us so much.”

“I am a bit sad,” Tyler admits. “I do miss you guys. You being good?”

“I’m trying. But TJ really tests my patience. He’s so annoying! Why does he have to be so annoying?”

“Because he knows it bothers you. Just try to ignore him”

“It’s hard!” Millie laments. “It’s really, REALLY hard. It’s like he wants me to punch him in the face.”

“Well I’d rather you didn’t punch anyone in the face.”

“But I’m not a pacifist. I’d rather ‘pass a fist’.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“I’m not a snitch. Snitches get stitches.”

“How about you rein in your temper a bit,” he suggests. “Just take it from the source. He’s doing it to get a reaction. Don’t give him one. That’ll irritate him and he’ll get bored and back off. How are you? You doing okay?”

“I’m okay, I guess. I miss home. Can we go back soon? Are you almost done your work? I really want to go home.”

“So do I. And it’ll be over soon.”

“And then you and mommy will come and get us and take us home?”

“As soon as it’s over. Once it’s done, we’ll come and get you guys. I promise.”

“Maybe next time we go on a trip, we can go to Disney World. That would be fun.”

“Have you been talking to Tanner?”

“Maybe…” Millie sing songs.

“Tell you what, when we get home, your mom and I will talk about it, okay?”

“Okay. Is it stormy where you are? It’s really stormy here. It’s kinda scary! The thunder is really loud and it’s really windy. It never gets THIS bad at home. We get storms, but they’re not as scary as this one. I wish you were here; it wouldn’t be as scary. You always built a fort in the living room so we can all sleep together and we won’t be afraid. You always make it fun. Like we’re on a camping trip. We forget about being scared when you’re with us. I wish you were here, daddy.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting square in his throat. “I wish I was there too.”

“Did you watch my video? I sent it to your email. Did you get it?”

“I did. But I haven’t watched it yet. I was going to do that before bed. So I could have good dreams instead of bad ones.”

“That’s a good idea! Maybe you can send ME a video and I can watch it before bed and that way I’LL have good dreams too.”

“You know what I’ll do? I’ll make a video for all of you and then you can all watch it before bed. Sound good?”

“Sounds good!”

“I gotta go. I’ve got an important meeting I have to get to. But I’ll make the video and I’ll send it to Auntie Nik’s email. You tell her I’m doing that, okay?”

“Okay. I miss you, daddy. I love you.”

“I miss you too. And I love you. ALL of you. So much. And I’ll see you guys in a few days.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah.” He hopes he sounds more confident than he feels. “I promise.”

****

It takes four attempts before he gets a usable video to send to the kids; trying to keep it light and cheerful and finding himself stumbling over his words and fighting back tears. The last thing he wanted was to turn a bedtime message into something so dark and depressing. Even Millie -who is incredibly intuitive and had known from the start that Mumbai wasn’t a normal family holiday- doesn’t know the full extent of just how serious things are. He doesn’t want to scare them; seeing daddy emotional will only cause them to ask questions no one truly has answers for. And it would only send their fears and anxiety -especially Tanner’s- through the roof. In the end he’d been able to hold it together. Reciting one of their favorite bedtime stories by heart and telling them how much he loves them and misses them; promising that they’ll all be heading home soon. The latter had actually helped lift his own spirits. Saying the words out loud doing wonders for his confidence; the promise itself -and not wanting to break it- giving his motivation a desperately needed kick in the ass.

By the time he journeys downstairs, Yaz has already arrived; joining Esme, Koen, Rata and two of Anil’s men -who’d been ordered to help out in each and every way possible- in the living room. And the younger man pauses in the setting up of his laptop in order to greet Tyler with a warm, tight hug and a playful backhand to an unshaven cheek. He sees the exhaustion that clouds Yaz’ eyes and dampens his smile; his own fears and worries revolving around a heavily pregnant girlfriend back home. It’s been hell on everyone; long hours and restless sleep and one stumbling block after another. There’s finally some light at the end of that very long and winding tunnel. It’s faint, but at least it’s there.

He pours himself a coffee from the freshly brewed pot in the kitchen and then joins the others. Returning Esme’s smile as she looks up at him, giving her a wink before taking a seat beside her and then pressing a kiss to her temple as he leans into her. Her hand slides along his inner thigh and then settles on his knee; squeezing lightly before her fingers locate the most tender area and begin digging and manipulating. She doesn’t need to be asked; always knowing where the painful spots are and never hesitating to provide even the smallest bit of relief.

“I hope this weather isn’t some kind of bloody omen,” Raka grumbles. Nervously bouncing his legs and both jumping and looking towards the sliding glass doors with each boom of thunder that shakes the house.

“Forty damn years old and he’s scared of a wee storm,” Koen scoffs.

Rata glares at him. “A wee storm? Sounds like Mother Nature is getting ready to blow shit up!”

“Do you need your favorite blanket? A warm bottle of milk? Someone to cuddle with you? It’s nothing but some wind and a bit of rain.”

“That’s more than just some wind and some rain!” his friend argues. “It’s like the end of the world out there! And if this some kind of omen about how things are going to go down…”

“Ain’t no bloody omen!” Koen laughs “Don’t tell me you believe in all that shit. Signs and karma and all that hoodoo voodoo, hocus pocus crap!”

“I d0n’t know,” Esme says, as she reaches for a mug of tea sitting on the coffee table. “I like to think that karma exists and that it finally caught up to my ex. Because if anyone deserved to be hit head on by the karma bus, it was him.”

Tyler nods in agreement and takes a swig of coffee.

“So what’s it looking like?” Koen addresses Yaz. “End getting close or what?”

“Depends on what news you guys have for me. I know where I stand on my end of things. What about over here?”

“I was able to get an extra twenty four hours,” Esme says. “But I really had to up the ante; an extra five million wasn’t going to cut it. I had to promise another ten. I tried to talk them down, but it was either the extra ten or pieces of Neysa and Aarev start washing up on the shores of Buriganga in a few days' time.”

“And Anil was willing to up that much?” Yaz asks. “IF it comes down to having to pay the ransom?”

“He didn’t hesitate when I told him. I don’t know where he gets all his money from, but he acted like it was nothing more than pocket change. He’s prepared to pay IF all else fails. But they still won’t give me proof of life unless I agree to meet them at Asif’s house and have them take me to where they’re being held.”

“Which is NOT happening,” Tyler says. “There’s no way in hell that’s happening.”

“Now hold on a second,” Koen speaks up. “It’s the way that makes the most sense.”

Tyler frowns. “What are you talking about? It makes no sense. You really think they’re going to keep their word? That they won’t hurt her? They’ll use her as bait. She won’t get anywhere near Neysa and Aarev; they won’t take her there. They’ll keep her at Asif’s and do God knows what to her until I show up to get her out.”

“She won’t be going alone,” Koen points out.

“I don’t give a shit if there’s ten of you going with her. She’s not doing this. She’s not going there. No fucking way.”

“But when they take her there...US there...you just follow behind and…”

“You’re not hearing me, mate. They won’t take her anywhere. They’ll kill you, then use her to bait me. And they’ll do all kinds of sick and twisted shit to her. You’re just going to take them at their word that they won’t hurt her? I know you’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you’re not THAT stupid.”

“Okay….” Esme speaks up. “...why don’t we all calm down and talk through all of this rationally. There’s got to be another way to find out where Neysa and Aarev are that doesn’t involve having to go to Asif’s house. We all know it’s a trap. We can’t trust a single word they say and there no doubt in my mind they’d keep me in order to get Tyler to show up.”

“She’s NOT going,” Tyler stresses. “End of story. After tonight, her part in this is down. She did everything we needed her to do. Enough’s enough. I’m not risking her or the…” he catches himself. “...I’m not risking her. We gotta find another way.”

“I think I have one.” Yaz says. “It unfortunately does involve sending people to Asif’s house, but not in an official capacity. What if I can get people to plant tracking devices on a few of the cars that are always coming in and out of there? We’ve had eyes on that place since we got here; there’s a constant flow of the same six vehicles going in and out at all hours of the day. If I can get some guys close enough to put some GPS trackers in place, we just sit back and see if any of them visit a storage facility.”

“The storage thing was just something I pulled out of my ass,” Tyler admits. “What I saw in the pictures and the videos reminded me of where we held McMann. That’s the only reason I said. Could be a factory or a warehouse for all I know.”

“What if it’s Asif’s basement?” Esme asks. “Does that place have one? Or a cold cellar or something like that? Cements walls and floors? Could be a basement or a cellar of some kind. It would explain no windows.”

“Well that makes it even more complicated if it is,” Koen grumbles. “How would we ever find that out? We can’t just go on up and knock on the front door and ask for a tour.”

“Any way of getting eyes in there?” Tyler asks Yaz. “It wouldn’t hurt ruling it out. Kind of fitting if it is where they’re holding them. Almost like they’re offering them up as some sacrifice to Asif. Appease the Gods of whatever the fuck they believe in.”

“I’d have to study the blueprints again,” Yaz says. “I didn’t see a basement, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. A lot could have changed since the originals were made; people renovate and add on all the time. We definitely need to check it out. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Can you do it?” Tyler inquires. “Get eyes in there?”

“It’ll be hard. But I’m sure I can come up with something. There’s got to be a way of getting in there without tripping the alarms or grabbing their attention. I’ll work on it.”

“I think the bigger worry right now is the bridges,” Esme pipes up. “Koen and I saw it with our own eyes. They are locked down and both the police AND the military are manning the road blocks. And they have pictures of me, of Tyler, and they’re comparing them to everyone that goes in or out. Whether they’re walking or driving.”

“They do have them locked pretty tight,” Koen confirms. “There’s no way we could get him across without him being seen.”

“What about going in from the north?” Esme suggests. “Does anyone know if they’ve got things blocked off up there too? If you go north into one of the smaller towns, you can backtrack your way into Dhaka, You can’t send a chopper right into the city; you just can’t. Not when even the police and military are wanting to cash in on the bounty. A chopper is big and noisy and that’s way too much attention right off the hop. But if you take one into one of the towns north of the city, you can drive back in. IF there’s no roadblocks that way.”

“That’s a big if,” Tyler says.

“I can send some people to check it out,” Yaz offers. “There’s a lot of remote areas north of Dhaka. Could them in, get them to see what’s going and probably have an answer in five or six hours. Gotta mobilize them first. Have they sent anything? For proof of life? Any pictures, videos…?”

“The last proof Anil received was three days ago,” Esme sighs. “Nothing since.”

“So they could be dead,” Koen concludes.

“There’s no way they’re dead,” Tyler says. “They need them alive. They know if I don’t come there, they’re going to have to settle for the cash. Which means they have thirty million reasons to keep them alive.”

Or they could kill them and just let on that they’re alive,” Koen argues. “Bait you there with the impression that they ARE still breathing.”

“That’s highly unlikely,” Yaz speaks up. “This is a huge pay day for these guys. If Tyler bails, the money is all they have. They’ll take it.”

“Then why not just bail?” Rata asks. “Why not just say ‘fuck it’ and get out of here? Just let Anil give them the money. Hand over the cash and Neysa and Aarev go free, that’s it.”

“It isn’t just about Neysa and Aarev,” Esme reminds him. “It started with the threats against them and it escalated into a whole lot more. WAY more than any of us thought it would. Did any of us image it would get this far? Did any of us really think it would get this bad? It never should have led to this.”

“This is about my family too,” Tyler adds. “Look at all the shit that’s been said. About my wife, about my kids. You think I’m really going to sit back and let them get away with it? If it was you girl, would you just tuck your tail between your legs and run?”

“Of course I wouldn’t. I’d fight too. But haven’t we fought enough? We took care of all those people on that list. Just like we were supposed to. It’s not our fault that Mahajan changed the game when he grabbed the woman and the kid. We did what we set out to do. So why don’t we just say fuck it and go home?”

“Why don’t YOU just say fuck and go home?” Tyler retorts. “If you can’t handle it, just say so. If you’re scared to do this…”

“I’m not scared of shit!” Rata interjects. “I just don't understand why we keep busting our asses like this. Haven’t we done enough? We got all the names checked off the list, Anil is going to take care of Mahajan. We’re done.”

“We are NOT done.” Esme argues. “They have Neysa and Aarev. And Nathan. Did you forget about him? I know he’s no one’s favorite, but they have him too. We can’t just leave them there.”

“And we can’t leave Asif’s people alive,” Koen adds “They’re too much of a threat; especially to Esme and the kids. We leave them alive and they’ll always pose a threat. We have to get rid of them so Tyler and his family can leave in peace.”

“If you want to go, go,” Tyler says. “You want to walk away, no one will fault you for it. This has been sheer fucking hell from day one. If you’re tired and you’ve had enough then just walk away. I won’t hold it against you.”

“I sure as hell will,” Koen snarls.

“I ain’t leaving you two useless assholes here!” Rata protests. “Someone has to make sure things get done right. Might as well be me.”

Koen gives a derisive snort and shakes his head.

“Well it’s true,” Rata mutters, and leans back against the couch, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m the one who’s been doing it all right since the beginning.”

“I’ll get trackers on the cars right away and send people north,” Yaz announces, and snaps the lid on his laptop closed. “We’re in the end game now. Everyone needs to keep on their toes and be ready to go at any given moment.”

“What happens when we get where we’re going?” Koen asks. “When the shooting starts? That’s going to bring a whole lot of attention our way. We’re going to have every fucking drongo in Dhaka showing up. Regular people, cops, military. How do we deal with all of that?”

“That’s why we have guns,” Tyler informs him. “They shoot at you, you shoot back. And shoot to kill. Injuring them will do shit. You gotta put them down and put them for good.”

“What if someone creates a few distractions on the bridges?” Esme addresses Yaz “I’m sure Anil has some extra people he can lend or even people here in Dhaka that he can convince to go against Asif. If we have people causing a disturbance on the bridges, all the attention will be down by the water.”

“Not just a pretty face,” Koen teases, and shoots her a playful wink.

“I like that idea,” Rata enthuses, “Stir up some chaos. Shoot some people, blow some shit up.”

“Well I was thinking relatively non violent,” Esme says. “But yeah, that works too.”

“Just remember to not shoot unless you’re being shot at,” Yaz instructs. There’s a lot of Dhaka. Good, innocent people. We don’t want their deaths on our hands. Know your target before engaging. And believe me, you’ll know your targets.”

“They don’t waste time shooting,” Esme adds. “Thankfully, most of them can’t shoot for shit. So your chances are pretty good that you won’t get hit.”

“Until they shoot you from behind,” Tyler smirks. “Then all of a sudden they’re really good shots.” He immediately regrets saying it; noticing the way Esme’s entire body stiffens and hears the heavy sigh that escapes her lips.

“Ask me, that was just luck,” Yaz remarks. “Extremely bad on your part, extremely good on his.”

“Can we NOT talk about?” Esme irritably requests. “We don’t need to talk about this.”

“Gonna need eyes in the back of our heads,” Rata grumbles. “If these fuckers are known for cutting you down from behind. I don’t want to be catching one in the throat. I wouldn’t be so lucky, that’s for sure.”

“No sense rehashing all of that,” Yaz attempts to derail the conversation. “It was a long time ago. Let’s concentrate on now and…”

“I’m just saying,” Rata continues. “If we got kids out there putting bullets in our backs or our necks…”

“Enough,” Tyler orders. “We all know what happened. We don’t need to talk about it.”

“You got lucky,” his friend informs him. “Someone was there to save your ass. All you bastards would high tail it out of there and let me fend for myself.”

“This conversation is not for me,” Esme declares, and shrugs Tyler’s hand off her shoulder when he tries to prevent her from standing up. “I’m not talking about this. I don’t even want to hear about it. Bad enough I had to go through it. Last thing I want to do is relive it.”

The next thirty second feels as if it lasts thirty minutes. Tension filled silence and a painful awkwardness; all four men attempting to avoid eye contact with one another and trying not to acknowledge the obvious tears sparkling in Esme’s eyes and the way she drops her empty mug into the sink with a loud clatter. Or the way she hurries from the room; light footsteps impossibly loud on the stairs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Koen angrily elbows Rata in the ribs. “You know we don’t talk about that. We never talk about that.”

“It’s been seven years! I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

“It’s a big fucking deal! To her, anyway. You better start kissing some serious ass, you fucking drongo!”

As his friends continue to bicker, Tyler leans forward and places his forearms on his thighs. Eyes on his feet as the fingers of his right hand fidget with his wedding band; twirling it back and forth, pulling it up to the knuckle and sliding it back down again A nervous habit that creeps up when his anxiety rears its ugly head or the PTSD is gearing up to unleash hell.

Yaz slips into the empty seat beside him, then leans in close. “Still a sore spot for her, huh?”

Tyler nods in confirmation.

“It won’t be much longer until go time. Think she’s going to be able to handle it?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I honestly don’t know.”

******

He manages an hour and a half of sleep. Waking to the sounds of Esme muttering and whimpering beside him. Her body drawn impossibly tight and her hands tightly gripping the bottom sheet; heels digging into the mattress as if trying to push herself away from an attacker. He opted not to shake her awake, wanting to avoid sending her into a panic and turning her extremely combative. He’d learned the hard way how NOT to handle a night terror. Confronted by a five foot nothing woman with the sudden strength of three grown men and having to physically restrain her until the nightmare released her from its clutches and she came out of it on her own.

Instead he took the easier approach. Rolling over onto his side and laying an arm across her midsection and draping one leg over both of hers and effectively keeping her flailing limbs and trembling body still. A forearm resting lightly on the top of her head and his fingers reaching for her face; gently clearing tears off of her cheeks and lightly tracing random patterns on her forehead and down the bridge of her nose. Within minutes she’d been successfully comforted. Body finally stilling, tears ceasing, eyes never opening as she issued a heavy sigh and moved onto her side.

After that, all hope of getting back to sleep had abandoned him, and for the last hour he’s been lying there in silence. Holding her as tightly as her body will allow him to; face buried in her hair as he listens to her soft, rhythmic breathing. And when her body grows uncomfortable with the heat radiating from his own and the weight of his limbs becomes too much, she moves away and he gives up on rest entirely. Sliding out of bed and then bunching up both of his pillows and placing them -one on top of the other, lengthwise- behind her back. If she rolls over in her sleep and blindly reaches for him, she’ll at least discover the pillows; his scent hopefully enough to comfort her.

He’d fallen asleep fully clothed. Wanting to be ready at the drop of a hat; whether it be a phone call from Yaz or a threat on their doorstep. And he picks up the holster -gun securely stored inside- from it resting on the nightstand; clipping it to the waist of his jeans and then shoving his feet into his combat boots, lacing them tightly before leaving the room.

He grabs some fresh air; giving the guards a nod in greeting as he steps out onto the back porch. While the storm had settled hours ago, it had brought no relief. Heat near stifling, the humidity already oppressive; causing sweat to quickly bead across his forehead and to gather at his temples and the nape of his neck. The air is thick and heavy, yet he barely notices it as he sits on the edge of the deck. Jaw firmly set, elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together; eyes dark and staring out into the stillness of the night. He neither sees or acknowledges anything around him. Not the movement of the guards patrolling the darkened perimeter or their quiet conversation. Not the faint music coming from the neighbouring home or the chirping of the crickets.

His mind is switching over now, and soon his senses and instincts will kick into high gear; his brain thinking of nothing but the task directly in front of him. The adrenaline is starting to build; that rush of blood in your veins and the anticipation that causes your heart to speed up and your stomach to flutter. For now he’s still experiencing other emotions as well; worry, nervousness, fear. Haunted by the thought that he could be called upon at any given moment and he many never return to his old life. To that sprawling, beautiful home on the beach with its million dollar view. To the sound of his children laughing and playing. To kissing his wife good morning when she wanders into the kitchen clad in one of his t-shirts. To kissing her goodnight and having that warm, supple body snuggled into his; her breath tickling his skin and that familiar smell clinging to her hair.

It’s shortly before one in the morning when he heads back inside. The house shrouded in silence; the open concept living, dining, and kitchen area illuminated only by the light above the stove. Instead of returning upstairs, he sinks into the easy chair in the living room; relieved that he’s able to stretch out his legs without wincing or groaning from discomfort. The two pills he’d taken almost three hours ago effectively reducing both his pain and stiffness yet not leaving him groggy or with altered senses. It’s a temporary fix; he knows long term usage is out of the questions. His body will get accustomed to both the drug and the dosage and soon the need for more will start. The cravings will kick in soon afterwards, and he’ll find himself desperate for a fix and willing to do anything to get it. Seeking out a doctor is the safest and only hope he has; whether it be through extensive physio or surgery. And he’s more than willing to put in the time and the effort. After all, it’s the only way he’ll be able to keep his life from falling apart.

“Tyler?”

His eyes snap open at the sound of her voice, and he glances towards where she’s paused at the middle landing of the stairs. “Yeah?”

“Just checking to see if it was you. I didn't want to come down there and sit on someone and find out the hard way it’s Koen.”

“Might give the guy a heart attack. Probably the most attention he’s had from a woman in a long time.”

“Everything okay?” she asks, as she descends the remaining stairs and joins him; settling herself sideways on his lap with her legs dangling over the arm of the chair.

“Everything’s good.”

“You feeling alright?” She pushes a hand through his hair, palm settling at the back of his head, nails lightly massaging his scalp.

“I’m feeling pretty good, actually. Those meds are doing their job. For now anyway.” He turns his face into hers and places a kiss to each corner of her mouth before covering it with his own. One hand sliding up and down her back as the other settles on her hip. “You okay? You were having a pretty bad dream, huh?”

She nods in confirmation.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Not really,” she says, and rests the side of her head on his shoulder.

“So it was about me?”

Another nod.

“That bad?”

“Bad enough. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” he assures her, and rests the tip of his nose against his forehead, feeling the tickle of her lashes when she closes her eyes.

“Nice attempt with the pillows though,” she says.

“It usually works.”

“I woke up completely this time. And then I panicked; I was worried you’d gotten the call and left without saying bye.”

“I’d never leave without telling you. We have our thing, yeah? Shit we always say to each other before I go? It’s like my good luck charm; say those words and everything will go right.”

“It’s held up so far. You started saying it when you went back to the job the first time and you’ve been saying it ever since.”

“Pretty good track record. I wouldn’t risk screwing things up by leaving without waking you up and telling you. You sure you’re alright? Dream still got you rattled?”

“A little,” she admits. “It was scary. And gruesome. I haven’t had one that bad in a long time.”

“Thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“I don’t.” She nuzzles the side of his neck with the tip of her nose, then presses a kiss to it. “It was bad…” her voice cracks. “...it was really bad.”

“It’s okay…” the hand on her back moves up to her hair, slightly stroking it as his other hand rubs her hips. “...everything’s fine. I’m right here.”

“For now.”

“We knew this was coming.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier. I know you have to go, but it doesn’t mean I want you to.”

“Would it make you feel better if I wore my lucky underwear?”

“You didn’t bring them. I packed your bag, remember?”

“And you didn’t put them in? What’s wrong with you?”

“The only thing those underwear are lucky for is making babies. Declan, Addie. I bet you were wearing them when this one was made too.”

A hand moves to the small baby bump already straining against her pyjamas pants. “I wasn’t wearing any.”

“You don’t even know what day this one was made on. How do you know if you were wearing underwear or not? You can’t remember what you had for breakfast most days.”

“I figure if I don’t wear them six days a week, the chances are pretty high that I wasn’t wearing any that day.”

“Maybe THAT’S why your sperm is so good. You’re not suffocating them all the time. They're free range. They’re not penned in and they can come and go as they please. Like how the chickens in Colorado used to poop out butt nuggets everywhere.”

Tyler chuckles. “Butt nuggets.”

“I used to call eggs that all the time when I was a kid,” Esme muses. “My dad taught me. We’d have a big family breakfast every Sunday; like we do now. And he’d always ask me how I wanted my butt nuggets cooked. My mom would get so mad! She hated that we were so close. I think in a way she was jealous. I was her first girl and I wanted nothing to do with her. She couldn’t figure out that she was the reason I didn’t want to be around her. And here we are, thirty some years later and she still has no clue. Makes me sad for our kids; they don’t even have one grandmother. Your mom would have been so good with them. I just know it. Her only kid...her son...having kids of his own?”

“She would have spoiled the hell out of them. She would have loved them; there’s no doubt about that.”

“She’d be so proud of you. For how you turned out.”

“Something tells me she wouldn’t he completely on board with the whole hired gun thing.”

“I’m not talking about that. I mean how you turned out as a man. If she was alive right now, she’d know all the struggles you went through and saw all the battles you fought and how you beat every single one. And she’d see how you turned out as a husband and a father despite not having the best role model to emulate.”

“Growing up I told myself that I’d never be like him. That I’d never turn out like that.”

“And you didn’t. You work hard at it every single day; to not be like him. It would have been so easy for you; to end up the same way. But you went in the opposite direction.”

“You keep forgetting that the first time didn’t turn out so good.”

“You were a kid when you got married the first time,” Esme reasons. “And judging by the stories I’ve heard she wasn’t exactly wife material.”

“She had her flaws , that’s for sure. One of them just happened to fucking anyone that showed interest.”

“Well if you ask me, she must have been crazy. Cheating on the likes of you? Why give up filet mignon for ground beef?”

“So I really AM just a piece of meat to you,” he teases, and she giggles when he kisses the side of her neck and playfully pinches her side.

“I’m just saying that I don’t get it. Why do you cheat when you have an amazingly hot husband that’s a god in bed? There has to be something seriously wrong with someone. And don’t get me started on how you were deployed when she would do it. Your husband is off...in the Middle East...getting shot at it and trying not to get blown up by roadside bombs...and you’re back home serving as the base slut? That’s the lowest of the low!”

“I guess both of us weren’t very good judges of character when we were younger.”

“There is a bright side though. To what we both went through the first time around.”

“What’s the bright side?”

“Well if things had been wonderful in either of our first marriages, neither of us would have ended up doing the job. You probably would have stayed in the military and I probably would have been a happy little housewife. In the PTA and driving a minivan and taking the kids to soccer and drinking Starbucks.”

“You take the kids to soccer now. Except it’s a thermos with homemade coffee with Bailey’s in it. “

“That’s in the cooler weather. When it’s hot, it’s pink lemonade with vodka.”

He grins and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Hey, it’s not the most exciting sport in the world; I have to get through it somehow. And I also have to survive all the thirsty females that show up whenever you coach. I don’t know how they know when it’s your turn, but that many never show when you’re not there. And they show up in their slutty little outfits and their make up done. And there I am; no makeup, ball cap on yoga pants and UGG boots and one of your hoodies. And you wonder why I have self confidence issues.”

“Who cares about the thirsty women? I only have eyes for you, you know that.”

“I care when they’re openly discussing my husband’s ass and his muscles and his bulge.”

“You should have married an uglier guy with a small dick then,” Tyler teases.

“I did that with my first marriage. I traded up the second time around.”

“Just ignore them. I do. I don’t pay attention to them. I don’t need to. I’m already married to the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Wow…” she’s grinning as she pulls back to look at him. “...do you ever know how to lay it on thick.”

“It’s the truth. That’s how I see you. I’ve always seen you that way. It’s how I’ll always see you. So fuck ‘em. Who’s the one I go home with? Who’s the one I share a bed with every night?”

“Me. Lucky little old me.”

“Exactly. It’s always been you. It always will be. I choose you every day.”

“Even when my hair hasn’t been washed in four days and I’ve got baby puke on my clothes and dark circles under my eyes and I’m a raging bitch?”

“Even then.”

“Now THAT is true love,” she says, and places both hands on the side of his as she kisses him. Nothing hurried or overly needy; soft and languid, lips moving slowly against one another. And when she pulls away he sees the tears that sparkle in her eyes and the way the corners of her mouth droop.

“Baby…” he combs his fingers through her hair, then kisses the bridge of her nose and cradles her cheek in the palm of his hand. “...don’t…”

“I don’t want you to go. I know you have to; it’s the only way this will ever be finished. But I still don’t want you to leave. I wish there was another way; to end all of this.”

“Believe me, so do I.”

“I’m scared. This is the most scared I’ve ever been. I wasn’t even this scared seven years ago.”

“We barely knew each other then,” he reasons. “But now…”

“There’s so much to lose. Way too much. If something happens to you…”

“Stop…” he lays a hand on the back of her head and draws it down to his, pressing their brows together. “...just stop.”

“You have to come back for me. You HAVE to. Promise me you’ll come back for me.”

“Esme…”

“Promise me, Tyler,” she pleads, fingers tightly gripping his hair. “Promise me.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“At least promise you’ll try? That you’ll do whatever it takes to get back here. Can you promise me that at least?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vows, and places a kiss on her forehead. “I promise.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction #Extraction 2020 #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth character #best part of me

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sapphossidechick · 4 years ago

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i was rereading this chapter and i realized that in the last one i said the llama was fifteen feet tall and ten feet wide, but in this chapter i said that cockpit was in the llama’s head and there are multiple rooms in there, so apparently my sixth grade self either didn’t know what fifteen feet was, didn’t know what consistency was, or just didn’t care about either. so sorry about that

Chapter 7: We fly to find a daughter of Apollo in a llama named Jeffrey

When I woke up, we were flying, and I was lying in a sleeping bag. Phoenix was in the cockpit, which turned out to be the llama’s head. The room I was in must have been a sleeping area/everything else area. Two more sleeping bags were spread out on the floor around me. There was a desk and three chairs shoved up next to a window. A map of California was thrown onto the table with pins in it. Livia stood next to the desk looking out the window. She was wearing a Bambi t-shirt and jean shorts with Mickey Mouse patches on them. Oh, yeah. And the room was pink. I sat up and looked at my clothes. I was wearing Goofy pajamas. The intercom crackled, and Phoenix’s voice ran through the llama.

“Morning, sleepy head. We got you some new clothes.”

Livia didn’t even turn around, but she gestured listlessly towards my backpack in the corner of the room.

“If you want to change,” Phoenix said. “The bathrooms are in the legs.”

I grabbed my backpack and headed over to where any legs would be. A circular trapdoor led downwards. I opened it and crawled inside. The bathroom was well lit, and a latter led upwards. I still couldn’t believe Phoenix had made this thing in ten minutes. I opened my backpack, which now had a Dumbo pin on it, (thanks girls) and groaned. Inside was a t-shirt with Peter Pan on it.

“Are you kidding me?” I yelled.

Above me I could hear the two girls laughing.

“This is NOT FUNNY!”

Even though I was mad, I was grateful I had a clean shirt. I snatched it up and threw it on. I also grabbed out a pair of jeans. Once I was changed, I climbed back up to the main room.

“Jason,” Livia told me. “Welcome aboard Jeffrey the flying llama.”

My first reaction was, “You named a llama Jeffrey?”

Stupid, I know, but who names a flying llama Jeffrey (sorry all Jeffreys in this world)? Livia cracked up.

“Yeah, Phoenix’s idea.” Phoenix waved at me from the front.

“Morning, Jason!” she called sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes.

“How long was I out?” I asked.

Livia shrugged.

“Phoenix had a timer going.”

Phoenix checked a clock in the cockpit.

“That was about twenty hours, man. I was starting to worry.”

I laughed. Phoenix never worried about anyone, and she knew I had been out longer than that before. She pushed a gigantic button and a table full of food came out of hidden door in the wall. Chairs popped up around it.

“Bon appetit!” she called.

I pulled up a chair and dug in. The bacon tasted amazing. The pancakes were also delicious. Either that, or I was so hungry that I didn’t care. Livia made her way to the cockpit, no doubt to watch for the flowers.

“They're gone!” she exclaimed. “Normally they’re here until dark. Something must’ve happened to Reyna!”

I stood up so fast I knocked my plate off the table. It fell to the floor with a crash. “Do we know anyone who might know what happened to her?” I asked.

They both shook their heads. I was scared for Reyna. Why, oh, why did Octavian have to mess up everything? We were perfectly fine without him. “Where are we gonna go now?” I asked.

Livia shook her head. “Back to camp, I guess.”

When we got back, people clapped us on the back and applauded us because we’d survived. I know I was downright miserable. Jayni ran to greet us.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t find her, guys,” she told us. “But, ah, Jason, we need to talk.”

She led me to the Senate House. It was completely empty. We sat down. “Octavian,” she began. “Has made himself augury.”

If you don’t know what that is, it’s kind of like a person who tells the future. If Octavian had made himself augury, then we would have to rely on him to translate the gods’ messages. That would not be good.

“How ‘bout we pay him a visit,” I told her.

As we walked to find Octavian, I had the same feeling I was being watched as the day Reyna disappeared. If that happened every time something bad was about to happen, something was about to go horribly wrong.

“There he is.” Jayni pointed ahead of us.

Octavian was standing before a statue of Jupiter, murdering a teddy bear. From his belt, he pulled out a knife and cut off the teddy bear’s head. Then he spread out the stuffing.

“Octavian!” I called. “Don’t you have anything better to do than kill teddy bears? I mean, if you’re so important, shouldn’t someone do that for you?”

He eyed me suspiciously, but I was on a roll.

“And if you’re so special, did a god recommend you to be augury?”

“No,” he said. “But—”

“Then why are you augury?”

“Because, well—”

“Go ahead and check that in your teddy bear stuffing.”

He scowled at me. “I was voted into this position, Grace.”

Jayni scoffed. “Really, Octavian? I don’t recall being invited to vote in that senate meeting, nor do I recall anyone else doing that. If there was a meeting, I wouldn’t have voted for you anyway. There are people more worthy than you, you know.”

I made a mental note to fist bump Jayni later. Octavian paled. I think it’s understandable to do so when the two figures of authority are on your case. But that didn’t stop me from smirking. Honestly, it’s a bit hard to stop me from doing anything if it’s a normal reaction, or it’s something extremely stupid that I just have to do. That being said, breaking rules doesn’t come naturally to me, just like being polite doesn’t come naturally to Octavian. I walked up to the annoying brat, and put my hand on his shoulder. He flinched.

“Octavian, buddy,” I said. “You have a good day, but remember to not mess with my friends, or you’ll be seeing the end of your “career” as augury.”

I then walked out of the room. I could feel Octavian’s eyes on me as I left. Jayni ran to catch up to me.

“That,” she said. “Was totally awesome.”

I gave her her deserved fist bump. Then we went to go find Phoenix and Livia. We found them sitting by the Little Tiber. It streamed around their feet causing small bubbles to appear. They both looked solemn, as though someone had died.

“—which is why we need to go,” Phoenix was saying. Livia nodded.

“But if she really is—”

“I know she’ll be able to help. We just have to find her.”

“But if you don’t even know where she is, it’s just like a death wish. The monsters will take us as free bait.”

Phoenix looked up. When she saw us, she smiled, but I knew it was strained. When you spend a couple of life and death situations with a person, you come to read them pretty well.

“Jason,” she said. “We need to talk. I may know someone who can help us, but you have to agree to leave camp again.”

I nodded. “I knew we weren’t gonna be here that long. Eventually we’d regain hope.”

This time Phoenix gave me a real smile. “Okay. Here’s the plan. When we leave camp, we have to search for a specific person. Her name’s Aaliyah Moore. She’s my cousin, and she’s a Greek demigod, but you have to trust her.”

If that was the most surprising thing I’d heard that day, I would have been lucky. Unfortunately, the Fates didn’t seem to be on my side. I was excited. We’d found a lead. But would it be worth it? Sometimes people said one thing and meant something else. If this was the case, it wouldn’t be the first time. We climbed aboard Jeffrey the flying llama. Before we left, Jayni had insisted on giving us clean clothes. She also gave me the gift of soap.

“You smell,” she’d said, shoving the soap in my hands. “I give this to you in the hope that you’ll actually shower.”

Ouch. Phoenix and Livia had cracked up. As we boarded, they were still holding their noses in jest. Yup, these people were definitely my best friends. I couldn’t have asked for better.

Once we were on board, we took our places. Phoenix was in the cockpit, flying the llama. Livia was at the window in hope of a sign from the plants. And me, I didn’t really have a job, so I just sat down and played a sad, one player game of Mario Kart. It was sad because I kept losing to the computer generated person. It also felt so weird to be doing something so normal that a regular, mortal teen would be doing.

“Hey, Jason,” called Phoenix. “I’ve got a job that’ll save your sorry butt from losing again.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I walked up to the cockpit. I’d never actually been inside the cockpit before, partly because Phoenix didn’t want me up there, partly because I had no reason to be up there. She pointed at the radar by her right hand.

“See that dot?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“That’s where we believe my cousin is. But to be sure, I need you to scout ahead, because you’re Superman.”

I closed my eyes. I was really starting to dislike all these nicknames.

“Okay, fine. What does she look like?”

She turned to a computer that I swear was not there before. She pulled up a photo of a young girl. She had long, black hair that was loosely braided, and it cascaded down her shoulder. She had dark skin and eyes that looked golden. In the picture, the girl was laughing. Her smile was so real, it made my heart ache. I must admit, the girl was beautiful.

“This is Aaliyah. If you can find her, we’ll find you.”

She stuck something like a pin on my shirt.

“This is a tracker,” she told me. “It’ll help us find you.”

I nodded. I wanted to find this girl so that we could find Reyna, because if even flowers couldn’t find her, maybe no one could.

“Press this button when you find her, and you’ll let the ship know that you’ve found her.”

I gave her a thumbs up and walked back to the main room. Livia nodded at me and gestured to a door that I’d never seen before.

“If you jump out, you’ll be able to scout ahead.”

I opened the door and got a facefull of wind. I stepped out onto it and closed the door. I manipulated the winds ahead of the llama. I couldn’t see Phoenix, but I gave her a thumbs up. Then I swooped down through the clouds.

The first thing I saw when I left the clouds was a giant map of the city. If this is what I had to search through, it might take a while.

Then I remembered what Phoenix had told me.

“Search small sections at a time. It’ll be easier than everything at once.”

I headed down to a cul-de-sac where a couple of children were playing. If they were mortal, they wouldn’t notice me. If they weren’t, then we’d have found Aaliyah.

I landed on a patch of grass. A young boy noticed me and gave me a thumbs up. Obviously, he was not Aaliyah. But I decided to ask him if he knew her.

I walked up to him.

“Have you seen a girl named Aaliyah?” I asked.

He looked at me suspiciously.

“What do you want with my sister?”

Oh, no. This kid is her brother? I thought. What am I gonna say?

I hate to admit it, but Phoenix saved the day.

“Incoming, Jason,” said her voice from the pin. “You’ve located her.”

The boy stopped in shock.

“Phoenix is with you?” he asked.

I nodded.

“And she trusts you?”

I laughed. “I hope so.”

“Then I trust you.”

He turned around. “Aaliyah!”he called. “Get over here.”

A girl walked over. She was dressed in a tank top and jean shorts. She looked about my age, maybe a year older.

“Hi,” she said.

Then the llama landed. Aaliyah’s eyes lit up.

“Wow,” she said, breathlessly.

Phoenix stepped out of the llama. She ran to hug Aaliyah.

“I’ve missed you,” she told her.

Aaliyah nodded. “Right back at you. I’ve got so much to tell you.”

Phoenix turned to the little boy. “Jake!” she cried. “Oh my gosh, you’ve gotten so big.”

He smiled. “I lost my front teeth,” he said, pointing at the two large holes in his mouth.

She nodded. “I'm sorry, but we really need to go. I’ll be seeing you around, Jake.”

Jake looked sad, but he nodded. “Take care of my sister, mister,” he told me, as sternly as a six year old could.

I gave a thumbs up. “Yes sir,” I said.

We climbed back into the llama with Aaliyah. Phoenix immediately ran to the cockpit, and we took off. Phoenix pressed her giant button again, and we dug into lunch.

“So,” said Aaliyah, with a mouthful of food. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

So I told her everything, with Phoenix and Livia filling in the parts I forgot. I explained how we had been in battle when Reyna showed up, and how Octavian appeared conveniently after the battle. I explained how he had managed to make Reyna run away. I told her about Annabeth and the Sopwith Camel, and my dream about Saturn. I told her we went to Disneyland by following Livia’s flowers. I described our fight with the Empusa, and the fight with Mickey Mouse. I told her about what I had heard while Reyna was at the store. I also found myself telling her about our sad return to Camp Jupiter, and how we came to find her. When I was done, I had finished three burgers, and was on my fourth. Aaliyah just sat there looking stunned. She looked at Phoenix.

“How did you know to come to me?” she asked.

Phoenix shrugged. “When your mother told you who you were, and how you always knew the answer to things, I assumed you would be able to help me. So I came to find you. You can help us, can’t you?”

Aaliyah nodded. “She was in my dreams for the past two weeks. I know where she is.”

I made a time out gesture with my hands.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I am Aaliyah Evans,” she said, straightening up. “Daughter of Apollo.”

and now we’re involving the greeks ooooo fun!!

the llama having multiple rooms in it but being built in like 10 minutes plsssssjksjsjanas

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sheliesshattered · 4 years ago

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What fandom is the Quarantine WIP? Any details you care to share?

Quarantine is yet another of my Doctor Who WIPs, lol. I do have a bunch of unfinished stories in other fandoms too, but for this ask game I only listed out my DW fics, since that’s all I’ve been working on for the last year and a half or so.

Despite the name, I actually started Quarantine in early 2019, long before any of the pandemic stuff, so it’s unrelated to that. The set up is that sometime late s9-ish, Clara and the Doctor go to visit a planet populated by a race who look human but aren’t, and who are highly telepathic. Within five minutes of arriving, they run afoul of some local law or other and are promptly arrested and imprisoned together in a sealed room.

I have the first bit of this written, with the banter turned up to 11 12, so I’m just going to put a few hundred words of it under the cut, for anyone who is curious to hear more about this one. Thank you for the ask!

Ask me anything about my WIP fics!

Quarantine excerpt:

“So, bit of a ‘good news, bad news’ situation,” the Doctor said, removing his sonicglasses. “Good news: the replicator works and doesn’t seem intent on poisoning us. Bad news: the door isn’t just hidden, it appears to have never existed in the first place.”

“Meaning we’re stuck,” Clara said.

“It would seem so.”

“Could the wall be telepathic, like the replicator?” she asked, setting the glass of water on the table and returning to the Doctor’s side.

He raised his eyebrows, his expression telling her that the thought hadn’t occurred to him. Pocketing his sonicglasses, he reached out and pressed the pads to his fingers to the blank wall. He closed his eyes and leaned in, concentrating. Unconsciously, Clara leaned in as well, only to snap to standing when the Doctor yelped and leapt backwards from the wall.

“What happened?” she asked, concerned.

“It bit me,” he said, shaking out his hands and glowering at the wall.

“Seriously?”

“Telepathically. Kind of like touching a cattle fence, a quick jolt meant to scare.”

“Right, so, negotiating with the wall seems like a no-go.”

“Except that there was a message embedded in there...” He trailed off thoughtfully, raising one hand to press against the wall.

“Doctor—” Clara started, but didn’t get any further than that before the wall once again shocked him and the Doctor recoiled.

“Stop that!” he snapped at the wall, annoyed.

“Why would you go for seconds on the electrified wall?” she sighed.

“It’s not electrified, it’s tetchy. But more importantly, it’s trying to tell me something.”

Curious, Clara reached out towards the wall, but the Doctor smacked the back of her hand and she jerked it back towards herself instinctively. “Hey, ow!” she said, turning to him.

“And why are you trying to touch the electrified wall?” he demanded.

“You said it wasn’t electrified! And besides, I got the food replicator to work. Maybe the wall just doesn’t mesh well with all your alien weirdness.”

“My what?”

She waved vaguely at him. “Touch-telepath meets telepathic field not calibrated for touch-telepaths,” she reasoned. “Maybe it’s just information overload.”

“As far as the Nari are concerned, we’re both aliens,” the Doctor pointed out.

“And yet: food replicator success. I’m going to try it.”

“What if my superior Time Lord biology is protecting me from a much worse shock?” he countered. “What if it zaps you worse than it zapped me?”

Clara shrugged, undeterred. “If it knocks me out, try to catch me before I hit my head on the floor. And you know how to perform CPR, if it comes to that — my heart’s on the left, don’t forget.”

He sighed loudly. “Clara, we’ve talked about you going native.”

“And your duty of care, yes, I know. But we’re locked in this room with no way out, and the wall that used to be a door seems to want to tell us something. So unless you have a better idea...?”

The Doctor rolled his eyes and nodded, and then, inexplicably, began to hum Another One Bites The Dust.

She paused in the act of turning towards the wall and looked back at him. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Humming.”

“Yes, but why? Why that song?”

“It’s a hundred beats per minute, which is the optimal rhythm for CPR for humans. Just trying to make sure I have it in my head before the adrenaline kicks in and throws off my ability to sense the passage of time.”

Clara bit her tongue to keep from saying the first snarky thing that came to mind, and instead said, “Stayin’ Alive is generally the suggested song, I thought.”

He shrugged. “That’s a debate that’ll still be going on centuries from now. Listen, are you going to touch the tetchy wall or not?”

“I was about to! Just hush!” she said, and reached out and placed her hand flat against the blank wall, steeling herself for a shock.

There was a faint buzzing beneath her palm, but nothing uncomfortable.

“Well?” the Doctor demanded. She shushed him again and put her other hand on the wall, trying to concentrate.

Hello and welcome! the wall said cheerfully inside her head.

“Clara—”

“Shh!”

You have been arrested! the wall went on. You have been found guilty of violating Societal Placidity Codes 338561.2 and 338561.3, and have been sentenced to indefinite quarantine. Details of your crime, your sentence, and the conditions of your potential release can be found in the dossier in the desk drawer.

“Check the desk drawer,” she told the Doctor, not moving from her spot as the wall’s message continued.

Sentences cannot be appealed or commuted, and quarantine will only be lifted once the terms of your release are fulfilled. It is society’s belief that you will benefit from this sentence, as will all those around you. We hope you enjoy your stay!

“That was some Hitchhiker’s Guide level weirdness,” Clara said as the message started again from the beginning, stepping away from the wall and turning to the Doctor. “What was in the desk drawer?”

“Papers detailing our arrest,” he replied, flipping through a folder thick with stacked papers.

“Right, that’s what the wall said, for violating some code or other. It said ‘indefinite quarantine’ but it also mentioned ‘conditions of your potential release’, so I’m hoping there’s something in all that paperwork that tells us how we get out of this.”

The Doctor continued to read, his scowl deepening.

“Well, what’s it say?” she demanded after half a minute more of silence. “What law did we break? And how did we manage to break a law that quickly in the first place?”

He glanced up at her, expression guarded and worried. “Like I said, the Nari are telepaths.”

“Right. We’ve established that, with the wall and the replicator and all.”

“But not just for interacting with technology. It’s something they can immediately sense about anyone in the nearby vicinity, like being able to smell someone’s overly strong perfume. We were in violation of code three-three-eight-whatever pretty much the moment we set foot on the planet, probably offended the first dozen people we passed on the street. Enough so that some sort of telepathic pulse must have gone through the local population, alerted the authorities, and here we are in legally-mandated isolation.”

“For the benefit of all those around us,” Clara said grimly, paraphrasing what the wall had told her. “What was the law, exactly?”

“Um.”

“Doctor,” she said in a warning tone.

“It’s, uhh...” He looked back down at the papers in his hands rather than meet her gaze. “There’s two, technically. Code 338561.2 is— the TARDIS is translating the exact phrasing here as ‘unresolved romantic tension,’” he said, voice crisp and quick. “And ‘61.3 is ‘unresolved sexual tension.’ Both of which I gather the Nari consider to be a sort of environmental pollutant, not infectious but detrimental to anyone forced to witness it. To the point that they believe the best way to address it is to quarantine the offenders together, away from the rest of society.”

“What,” she demanded, her voice flat.

The Doctor winced. “Clara, please don’t make me explain this in more specific terms.”

“No, please don’t,” she said quickly. “But how do we— What’s it say about the conditions of release?”

“Well, we have to, erm. Resolve it. To the satisfaction of our cell’s built-in telepathic sensors.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Afraid not,” he said, still not meeting her gaze.

“Indefinite quarantine.”

“Yep.”

“Until we satisfy the conditions of our release.”

“It would seem so.”

Clara bit her tongue to keep from saying a great litany of utterly unhelpful things, finally settling on, “I’m going to go into the loo, close the door, and yell very loudly. Once I’m done with that, we can brainstorm ways to get out of this mess.”

“Of course, boss.”

#calluna-cuprea #asks #replies #Doctor Who fic #my writing #Quarantine #Clara and the Doctor #I love this one so much I couldn't resist including a bit of it here #but it is so very far from finished so I don't expect it'll see the light of day anytime soon #WIP game

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peterjakes · 5 years ago

Text

‘no one knows the pain’

so bc I’m an impatient bitch and can’t wait until Friday I decided to write a little piece about sander – I’m not even sure how to describe it. But I wanted to write something different from my usual stuff and like everyone else I’m obsessed with these two and just want them to be happy!

enjoy x

also posted on ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748483

Because there is no us

Those 5 heart-breaking words from the love of his life glare right back at him, until the screen turns blank and Sander is faced with his own wretched reflection. The bags under his eyes almost seem to have a life of their own, separate to himself. He hasn’t slept for three days, but it was only now his body had started to react. Everything was too much. Too loud. Too crowded. Too bright. His bed...the bed in this room he’d been given, it wasn’t comfy at all. It felt too small, yet too big. The sheets were itchy against his skin, they looked and smelt clean, but they didn’t feel right. The room was tiny, he felt claustrophobic as if the walls would soon start to move towards each other and he’d been even more trapped.

He was just so tired. He wanted it all to stop. He didn’t want to feel anymore. He was so tired of feeling. So tired.

Since regaining consciousness, his thoughts had just been on Robbe. He still hadn’t put all the pieces of that night back together, not completely. He remembered lying in bed with Robbe, so calm and comfortable in his arms. Then he was by the window, he remembered feeling warm. His skin became less of his own, he wanted to scratch it all away. Out of bed. Then possible hunger. Cold air. Dampness. Darkness. Sirens. Britt’s piercing voice. A soft touch. A distance shout.

But he couldn’t tell what was real. All of these memories, delusions, would crash together as if fighting to who would stay in Sander’s mind. A constant fight, one that Sander was so tired of. A constant cycle.

He unlocks the screen and stares blankly at the message again for a moment before pushing his phone aside and forces himself to stand up beside his bed. His throat feels dry, he needs water or something. Wrapping his fingers around his neck, he squeezes ever so slightly, gulping down. Dying by strangulation. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Not in that way. Could someone strangle themselves to death? He wasn’t sure he was even strong enough. He felt so weak and tired.

Dying had become something Sander thought about regularly. To die in a moment, a happy moment; wasn’t that the dream? But right now, he wasn’t happy. He’d never been so unhappy in his life. Dying now, that wouldn’t help, would it? Would it be right? To die alone?

He tearfully reaches back for his phone, his hands trembling at the thought of replying to that message. His fingers hover ever so slightly over the keypad, wishing for the words, the right ones, to appear in his mind. He waits and waits. Nothing. Emptiness.

He knows he needs to lie down, try to control himself. The unappealing bed stares up at him, trying to entice him, but he chooses the floor instead, hard and uncomfortable but still a better option. He flinches slightly at the touch of the cold ground and tries to control his breathing, just like his mother taught him. Trying to imagine anything that’ll help, Sander closes his eyes and thinks back to that night, of what he can remember. Straining his brain for any kind of happiness, Sander struggles to breathe, the emptiness pushing down hard. He tries to rid this feeling, sitting up and rubbing his hands against each other. Trying again, he lays down and thinks of Robbe, just Robbe. Those ocean eyes, the little twinkle that made Sander weak at the knees, that adorable giggle he did whenever Sander said something only half amusing, his tenderness whenever he touched Sander, the warmth of his touch, the feel of his small curls between Sander’s fingers.

His heart yearns for Robbe, yearns for his touch, yearns to hear his laugh, hear his soft voice, but in his mind, he knows that he doesn’t deserve him, not after everything he’s done. Robbe needed someone stronger, someone kinder, someone who knew their own mind. Sander didn’t fit the bill. Robbe obviously knew his own worth, and Sander wasn’t worth the trouble. He fucked it all up. The one time and only time, he really needed not to do that.

The guilt seems to be growing inside him. Sander doesn’t think he’s ever felt this bad about an episode. So ashamed. So unhappy. So hopeless. Not only does his heart ache, but his entire body doesn’t even feel like his own. It was becoming too much for Sander. It always became too much. Crawling back onto the bed, he crouches down, pulling his legs towards himself, gripping tightly, and starts yanking at the tugs of hair. It hurts. Sander knows it hurts. But he carries on anyway, wanting to feel more. He needs to. Just something. This goes on for a good 5 minutes until the literal tears in Sander’s eyes pierce his skin, and he comes back to reality. Sander can feel his heart, it beats and beats, physically hurting, just as if it was being shattered into pieces that very moment by every single beat.

He wanted to reach out, reply to Robbe, explain everything. But wouldn’t he just cause more damage? He’d already fucked so much up, in such little time. It had been what, 2 months? He’d felt so much for Robbe in that short amount of time but now it was clear that he just ruined everything. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t try and try for it to just go wrong. Again, and again.

This just proves what Sander always knew, deep down. A burden. That’s all he is, all he’ll ever be. A burden to his tired mother. A burden to angry Britt. A burden to lovely, sweet Robbe. Nothing will ever change that. Maybe it would be better for Sander to stay here, away from anyone else he could ruin.

He should never have hoped. Never have imagined that he could be so happy. Those moments in the hotel, before it all came crashing down, they were too perfect. The calm before the storm.

But can he blame Robbe? Who would want to deal with this kind of Sander? His mother could barely cope. Britt always seemed to despise but relish Sander being something to fix. Robbe knew the truth; something Sander was so scared of, and now he knew he was too good for Sander. Something Sander had always feared.

Alone once again. Always alone. Forever alone. His biggest fears came true.

No one wanted this version of Sander, the real Sander, not even Robbe. No one can help Sander, not even himself. He doesn’t deserve help. He deserves this all. He never deserved someone so true, so kind like Robbe. He was so foolish to think something good could finally happen.

But Robbe was so soft and warm and kind, compared to Britt who was so harsh and angry and loud. The two were such a contrast, and yet it was Britt who forced herself onto Sander, who even now would insist on visiting him. It had been white noise from Robbe until Sander had sent that message over. He tried to keep it light, wanting to check the waters before delving into what happened. Maybe that annoyed Robbe. Maybe he should have been more direct. Robbe couldn’t have been more direct with that message.

Everything seems so dark. The loneliness seems to take over. He can’t feel anything else. It hurt to breath; he feels like he’s suffocating. He just wants it all to stop. Forever. He stays the same for the next two days, not getting much more sleep, he barely eats (the food here is nothing compared to his own cooking) until he sees a notification from Robbe.

I want you!

By this time, he can barely bring himself to move. All of his energy seemed to be used up. He can’t stop looking at the notification. He doesn’t open it, still wary, but reads over the message, unsure if it’s real or not. Of course, it’s real, it has to be real. But why would Robbe do this? Make him feel so empty and worthless, and then turn it around. Why would Robbe want someone like Sander?

#wtfock #wtfock fic #wtfock fanfic #wtfock fanfiction #robbe x sander #sobbe #rosander #sander driesen #skam #no one knows the pain #*mine #*mywriting

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lets-talk-appella · 5 years ago

Text

They’re Us

Chapter 2/5

Summary: When the enemy looks like your friends, how do you know who to trust? For PP Horror Week 2019 - Doppelgangers.

Word Count: 4k

Rating: M for horror themes and some violence.

Chapter 1

AO3 and FFN

Spending time with Jesse post-break up is much more enjoyable than it had been pre-breakup.

Which maybe would have been nice to know earlier.

As soon as it starts raining during her last class of the day, Beca reaches for her phone. She has some vague hope that either Jesse or Stacie or someone can be persuaded to drive to campus and pick her up so she doesn’t have to walk home in the rain. Because of course she doesn’t have an umbrella.

When Beca pulls out her phone, however, she sees a notification from Jesse already waiting for her.

Jesse: U need a ride Becaw?

She twists her mouth, biting at the inside of her left cheek. His timing really is something.

Duh.

After another ten minutes wasted listening to her professor drone on, she’s free, class having ended, and she makes her way out of the building. Outside, she scans for Jesse’s car in the parking lot across the street, staying close to her building to remain relatively sheltered from the rain. After a moment, flashing headlights catch her attention. She crosses the street carefully and half-jogs to get to his car, the rain only becoming more intense by the second.

“Hey nerd,” she greets, swinging herself into the passenger seat and shoving her bag between her feet on the floor. As soon as she closes the car door behind her, the skies open and it starts raining even harder. The sound of the drops splattering against the roof of his car is almost deafening.

Jesse gasps in mock offense, putting a hand to his chest. “Is that any way to talk to your super cool ex-boyfriend who picked you up in the rain?”

She fixes him with the most deadpan expression she can muster.

He stares back, eyes wide and hand still on his chest.

She counts to ten, but neither of them blink.

“Is this gonna be a thing?” she asks blandly.

“Yep. Not gonna stop staring.”

“That’ll make driving pretty hard.”

“Probably.”

She transitions her deadpan expression into her most withering glare.

Jesse still hasn’t blinked or moved as far as she can see. Even she has to admit that’s pretty impressive.

Finally, she sighs and turns away, blinking against the sting of her dry eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Whatever, thanks for the ride. Let’s just go!”

“Sore loser,” Jesse grins boyishly, his pose breaking as he starts the car with one hand, rubbing at his own eyes with the other. He pulls the car out of its spot and Beca buckles her seatbelt.

“How was your day? Good?” Jesse prods, glancing over.

“The usual,” she shrugs. “Arrogant professor, annoying amounts of reading that I’m not gonna do. Oh, some girl asked a really stupid question about—”

“So, uh, do you have to be home super soon?”

Beca frowns at the interruption. “Not really…” she answers slowly. “Why?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe we could grab Chinese or something,” Jesse suggests, momentarily taking his eyes off the road to glance over at her.

Just then, Beca notices that the music is off, which is unusual. Maybe the storm messed with the radio signal or something.

“Oh.” Beca shifts in her seat a little uncomfortably. “I mean, sure, but... like, we haven’t really been doing things like—”

“Not as a date,” Jesse says hurriedly, raising a hand to rub at his eyes again. “I just thought, you know, we’ve hung out since we broke up, but we haven’t really talked about, um, everything, and maybe we—”

“Dude, what’s up with your eyes?”

“Huh?” he looks over at her again, brow furrowed.

“Your eyes. You keep rubbing them,” Beca points out. “Did all that staring dry them out?”

“Oh.” Jesse blinks rapidly and returns his hand to the wheel and his eyes to the road. “No, just, um, some grit or whatever.”

“Oookay,” Beca says slowly, drawing out the vowel. “Can you see to drive? Like, with the rain?”

“Yes, Beca, it’s fine,” Jesse dismisses, voice turning impatient. “It’s supposed to stop soon anyway. Yeah, so, back to earlier, I was thinking we should go get dinner. And maybe talk.”

Beca hesitates. “I… what do you want to talk about? Just... stuff? Anything?”

“No, more like… about us. Don’t you think?” Jesse’s voice is light, but Beca gets the feeling he isn’t really asking. It’s not a feeling she particularly likes.

“Um, there isn’t really an ‘us’ anymore,” she reminds him, watching the side of his face carefully. “And I kinda thought we’d… talked… enough.”

“I mean, it’s kind of a big deal. It changes a lot.”

Beca’s voice lodges in her throat; when they’d broken up two weeks ago, Jesse had seemed to understand. It had been amicable. At least, as amicable as a breakup can be.

Jesse huffs what could be a little laugh. “Come on Beca, you can’t just tell me you’ve figured out you’re gay and then just not talk about it.”

“You said it was fine,” she replies stiffly, glaring out the window without really registering where he’s driving them to.

“Yeah, well, now I think we need to talk about it.”

A hard knot of anger forms deep in Beca’s stomach. “Jesse, I’m gay and I don’t like like you anymore. Done,” she spits defensively, using the most sarcastic tone she can manage.

Jesse rolls his eyes in annoyance.

Beca stares in disbelief. “What else is—so start talking then,” she says, stung.

“No, I mean over dinner,” Jesse insists again.

“Why can’t we just talk now? You’re making this a big deal.”

“Because we should talk over dinner.”

Beca stares out the window, noticing for the first time that he very distinctly did not drive the route that would take her back to the Bella house. “What’re you… Jesse, if this is some weird—what the hell, dude, why are you being so weird about this now?” she asks loudly, becoming more annoyed by the second.

“I’m not being weird, I’m being—”

“Ridiculous?”

“Seriously, Beca?” Jesse explodes, startling her into silence. “You’re gonna turn this on me? That’s typical, you know that? I’m taking you to dinner, and we are going to talk. That’s it.”

Beca swallows. In a much smaller voice than she’d have liked, she manages, “I don’t want to go with you.”

He ignores her completely.

“I mean it Jesse,” she says more loudly. “You’re acting really shitty right now. I thought we were fine. You said we were fine and it’s been working, and now—you can’t just—you know what?” she asks, the volume of her voice rising with every word. “Just take me home. I don’t want—”

“Shut up, Beca,” Jesse cuts her off with a snort of disgust. “You talk too much.”

Beca flinches. He’s never told her to shut up before.

“I… Stop the car,” she says, hating how much her voice quivers.

“No.”

Her eyes flick to the door locks, calculating whether Jesse’s driving too quickly for her to throw herself from the car and into some sort of tuck-and-roll.

“Stop the car,” she repeats.

He doesn’t answer.

Maybe for the first time ever, she notices how much bigger than her he is. How much stronger.

She’s never been scared of Jesse before.

She doesn’t like how it feels.

“Actually,” she tries, “I just remembered I said I’d help Chloe with—”

“You’re lying.” His voice is cold and certain.

“And you’re being a psycho!” The words burst out before she can stop them, and she immediately regrets it.

His expression darkens in a way she’s never seen, his face twisting and turning ugly. His knuckles whiten on the wheel. “Beca—”

“We’re at the restaurant,” she says suddenly, desperately, eyes catching sight of their favorite Chinese place rapidly approaching through the window.

For an instant, she isn’t sure Jesse is actually going to stop; when he does, he slams on the brakes, jerking Beca against her seatbelt and making the car behind them honk and swerve to avoid them. Muttering darkly, Jesse quickly maneuvers the car into a spot, parallel parking more perfectly than Beca has ever seen him do it.

“Get out,” he says, turning the car off.

Beca hesitates, but then realizes that being outside right now might be better than being in a confined space next to him. She unbuckles her seatbelt and fumbles for the door handle, finally pushing the door open and allowing a rush of the cooler air into the suddenly stifling car. The rain has slowed to a gentle shower, just like Jesse said it would.

He’s beside her in a flash—so suddenly that it startles her, because she hadn’t heard him get out of the driver’s side—and holding an umbrella above them both, sheltering them from the drizzle.

Standing on the sidewalk, she debates making a run for it. Even though he’s bigger and taller and therefore probably faster, she’d have surprise and more than three years’ worth of Bella cardio on her side—but then Jesse’s hand secures over her upper arm, gripping just a little too tightly.

He doesn’t say anything, but the message is clear.

Pure fear coils in Beca’s stomach, rolling and frothing until she thinks she’s about to be sick. Her throat closes and her mouth goes dry; she doesn’t even think she could muster a proper scream if she needed to.

Jesse takes a step toward the Chinese restaurant, steering her with ease, forcing her with him. She knows things will only get worse once they’re inside, unless she can slip away to the bathroom and make it out a window or something, but he’d see that coming.

“Jesse, I don’t want—”

“Beca? Jesse?” a familiar voice calls out over the rain.

Relief washes over Beca instantly; Jesse stops and they both look over to see Cynthia Rose and Stacie leaving the nail salon a few store fronts away, taking shelter under Cynthia Rose’s umbrella.

Beca barely takes a moment to wonder at the lucky timing. She’s too busy trying to convey to Stacie and Cynthia Rose that something is wrong.

“He—”

“Hey, you guys,” Jesse speaks over her, his hand sliding down from Beca’s upper arm to instead force his fingers between her own, holding fast to her hand. Stacie’s eyes follow the movement curiously.

Beca tries to shift away from Jesse and toward Cynthia Rose and Stacie, but Jesse only moves with her so that it looks like they’re walking in tandem. Jesse squeezes her hand hard in warning, and another thread of fear runs down Beca’s spine; she can’t let Cynthia Rose or Stacie get hurt.

“What’re you two doing here?” Cynthia Rose asks curiously.

“Just grabbing dinner,” Jesse says airily. “Right, Bec?”

He squeezes her hand again.

“Y-yeah, just some Chinese,” Beca manages, staring intently at Stacie.

A small frown appears between Stacie’s eyebrows. “Oh yeah? It’s nice that you guys are still hanging out.”

“Yep,” Beca says before Jesse can open his mouth. “Just can’t get away from each other.” As she speaks, she deliberately raises her free hand to play with the piercings on her right ear.

Both Cynthia Rose and Stacie’s eyes widen at the gesture.

Jesse doesn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, so, it was nice running into you, but we’re gonna—”

“Wait,” Cynthia Rose says quickly. “Didn’t you see Chloe’s text?”

Jesse pauses, looking annoyed. “What text?”

“I, um, haven’t been able to check my phone at all,” Beca replies, gently swinging hers and Jesse’s joined hands.

Stacie’s face becomes an impassive mask. “It was a group text. She just said to ‘come home now,’ so that’s why we’re headed out. You need a ride back?”

Jesse coughs. “Actually we—”

“It seemed important,” Stacie cuts him off. “And you know what Chloe’s like. Hell hath no fury.”

Beca has no idea of Chloe had actually sent any kind of text, but at the moment she doesn’t care. All that matters is that Cynthia Rose and Stacie had understood her.

Jesse tries again. “I’m sure that whatever she has going on will be fine without Beca.”

“That’s not really how Chloe operates,” Cynthia Rose says.

Stacie nods. “Yeah, when she sends group texts, she means business.”

Beca holds her breath.

A long moment passes. Stacie starts tapping her toe on the sidewalk.

“I—fine!” Jesse finally spits. “Great, sure. We’ll just go.”

“You need a ride?” Stacie asks again. “Cee and I drove.”

Beca opens her mouth, but Jesse beats her to it. “I drove her here. I can drive her home.”

“Oh, then I’ll just ride with you,” Stacie says smoothly, pulling her keys from her purse and handing them to Cynthia Rose. “Beca, I feel like I haven’t seen you all week, we’ve both been so busy. It’ll be great to catch up.”

“Definitely,” Beca says, trying to ignore the crushing pressure around her hand.

Jesse hesitates, and Beca knows he’s trying to come up with some excuse.

“I’ll just drive behind you guys,” Cynthia Rose adds. “Don’t mind me.”

Beca has to fight to keep the smile off her face. Cynthia Rose pretty much just ensured Jesse doesn’t make any detours driving them back to the Bella house.

Jesse seems to have realized the same thing. “Perfect,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Let’s go then,” Stacie urges, stepping close to Beca under the premise of taking cover under their umbrella and resting her hand on her lower back protectively. “Don’t want to be late for Chloe.”

“Of course not,” Jesse replies, the sarcasm in his tone obvious. Still, he leads the way back to his car, keeping hold of Beca’s hand. Stacie doesn’t pull away from Beca either, though, and she thinks that together they must make a strange sight, all crammed under the small umbrella. Jesse unlocks his car with the key fob and holds open the rear passenger side door for Stacie. She slides into the back seat gracefully, pulling the door closed behind herself. Jesse has to release Beca’s hand in order to open the door for her as well—keeping up appearances—and she slides into the passenger seat.

“You okay?” Stacie breathes as soon as the door shuts behind Beca, giving them precious few seconds alone before Jesse enters the car.

“No. He hurt my hand,” Beca whispers back, flexing out her fingers and wincing as the blood rushes back to her fingertips.

“I saw,” Stacie replies, her voice full of anger.

Then Jesse’s opening the driver’s door and climbing into the car. He slams the door hard enough to make the car rock, throws the umbrella behind his seat, and starts the car. Barely glancing over his shoulder, he pulls onto the road. Beca looks into the side mirror; Stacie’s white car, driven by Cynthia Rose, follows close behind.

They drive in silence. Jesse stares at the road, his hands tight around the wheel. Beca looks out the passenger window, her mind racing. She only risks one glance back at Stacie, who sits motionless in the backseat, her hand hidden in the pocket of her purse where Beca knows she keeps her pepper spray.

Cynthia Rose stays close behind them, the headlights of Stacie’s car cutting through the easing rain and reassuring Beca of her presence.

She’s terrified that at any second, Jesse will take a wrong turn. That he’ll drive her and Stacie to some secondary location and try to lose Cynthia Rose. But he never does. Before long, he’s driving them through the correct part of Barden, then into their neighborhood, and finally, down their block.

Still, Beca doesn’t breathe properly until he pulls into the driveway of the Bella house and turns off the car.

“Well?” he says harshly as Cynthia Rose pulls into the driveway directly behind them, effectively trapping them. “You’re here.”

Beca doesn’t hesitate, fumbling for the door handle. She opens the door, and as she pushes it open, she hears Stacie doing the same. It’s stopped raining completely.

“Beca!” a voice calls, and Beca steps out of the car to see Chloe positively sprinting toward her across the Bella front yard, white as a sheet. “Beca, run!”

“Wh—”

Beca’s throat stops working when she looks beyond Chloe and sees Jesse running after her, his expression horrified.

“He stole my car!” the Jesse running behind Chloe shouts, and Stacie starts screaming.

Beca’s brain has frozen with incomprehension. It doesn’t make sense. She has to be dreaming or hallucinating or something because Jesse just drove them to the Bella house and is still in the car. He can’t have been with Chloe, that’s impossible, he can’t have been in two places at once, and she knows she should run or scream like Stacie or do something, but she’s rooted to the spot, her body numb with shock until—

Jesse—the Jesse that had driven her home—grabs her from behind in a bear hug, pulling her to his chest, his crushing weight surrounding her, squeezing the air from her lungs. She flails on instinct, writhing in his grip, but he’s much stronger. He holds her tightly and starts moving, and she’s being hauled backward, away from the house and toward the street.

“No!”

She hears Stacie shout and Chloe scream, but she can barely focus on them. She struggles, flinging out her limbs, trying to escape. She tries making herself heavier, tries giving into gravity, but Jesse’s arms only tighten. Panic rises in her chest when she realizes he’s carried her to the road. She lashes out desperately and manages to hit Jesse in the neck just below his jaw; he gags, and his grip loosens. She struggles even harder and suddenly there are hands grabbing at her, pushing at him, as Chloe, Stacie, Cynthia Rose, and the other Jesse rip her free from him.

The Not-Jesse is shoved, hard, into the road as Beca is hauled back toward the house, sandwiched between Chloe and the real Jesse—she can just tell it’s him, it’s her Jesse—and there’s an abrupt revving noise, a deep shout, and a sickening thud, accompanied by bending metal and shattering glass.

Safe on the Bella yard, still between Chloe and Jesse, Beca looks back into the road and gasps.

The Jesse that had attacked her lies on the pavement, twisted and broken, his limbs at unnatural angles. He’d gone over the top of the car and must have been scratched by the windshield; cuts and scrapes cover what Beca can see of his body. The car—why does it look familiar?—that had hit him has already stopped, engine idling.

Beca stares at the still form on the ground. Her stomach rolls and she has to fight the urge to vomit.

“Um…” the Jesse at her side says softly, and she looks at him automatically. His face is ashen, his eyes fixed on the spot of the road where his doppelganger lies. Numbly, Beca looks around at the others. Chloe’s staring at the road, too, her expression more fierce than frightened. Beyond her, Stacie and Cynthia Rose are obviously shaken. Cynthia Rose keeps glancing between the broken Jesse on the road and the unharmed Jesse standing next to them.

Only a second has passed.

The car turns off and its door opens; Amy gets out of the driver’s seat, which explains why the car looks familiar: it’s Bumper’s. “Did I get him?” she asks, glancing at Chloe.

Chloe’s throat bobs up and down before she answers. “Y-yeah, I think you got him.”

Nodding, Amy walks over to the Jesse on the road, peering down at his unmoving form. “Pretty solid whack. He won’t be getting up.”

“Good,” Chloe breathes, glancing at Beca.

“I’m… you…” the Jesse next to Beca manages, sounding raspy. “You were right,” he finally manages, talking to Chloe.

“Yep,” she replies grimly.

Beca thinks she may have gone into shock. She feels lightheaded and floaty and can’t understand what she’s seeing.

“He’s… dead?” Stacie asks, her voice quivering slightly.

Before anyone can protest, Amy draws back a leg and kicks the Jesse on the ground, hard. “He’s not breathing,” she says. “I don’t wanna touch him to check for a pulse.”

“No, don’t touch him,” Cynthia Rose insists. “Just… leave it.”

“What…” Beca blinks the spots from her eyes.

Chloe steps away from her, cautiously moving toward the body. She leans over it, like Amy had. After a moment, she says, “His eyes… is that a contact lens?”

Beca doesn’t want to look, but the concern in Chloe’s voice draws her in, along with Jesse, Stacie, and Cynthia Rose. With great reluctance, she forces herself to look at the ruined face on the pavement. It’s turned to the side, resting one cheek on the blacktop, his upper body half-twisted and facing down. The one eye she can see is open and colored a startling amber, nothing like Jesse’s usual brown. On the pavement next to his face is a small film, blending almost perfectly into the pavement. It looks like a colored contact lens.

“His eyes,” Beca remembers, her voice sounding far away to her own ears. “He kept rubbing his eyes. I bet that’s why. He wasn’t used to them.”

“Aubrey did the same,” Chloe says, which only confuses Beca more.

“Aubrey?” she asks.

Chloe nods, her face pale. “They’re clones. Or doppelgangers, or aliens, or—something, I don’t know. But I talked to Aubrey’s. She looks—it was Aubrey. I had coffee with her. But then I called her, and she’s at the lodge. I bet she had color contacts, too.”

A headache has started to form behind Beca’s eyes.

“Ginger came home in a tizzy,” Amy supplies. “Explained. I knew it was only a matter of time before more of them popped up.”

“He stole my car,” Jesse adds, sounding like he has a head cold. “It was just gone, and I didn’t know where, so I came here to see if… well, I ran into Chloe, and she asked if I knew where you were,” he says to Beca. “And, well, she kind of explained and then we put it together and wondered if the other me…” he trails off, glancing at Beca. “Apparently, we were right. Did he—did you really think he was me?” he asks, voice hushed.

Beca nods, her mouth like sandpaper. “Yeah, I—I mean, of course I did. He looked like you. He picked me up in his—in your car after class. And he was so… normal, for a little. But then he got weird about—he just got really weird, and scary, and I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t think…”

“It was lucky we ran into them, honestly,” Stacie says. “We saw your text and were leaving the salon and happened to see them. Beca was great,” she adds. “She used the signal for ‘creepy guy’ that we do at the bars. She touched her ear, and we knew.”

“I told all the Bellas to come home,” Chloe says. “A group text. I sent it right after Amy, Jesse, and I figured it out.”

“Ummmm.” Amy raises her hand, staring hard at Stacie and Cynthia Rose. “Question. How do we know that you guys are you? Like maybe you’re just their clones.”

A very loaded silence falls.

A different kind of knot tightens in Beca’s stomach. She shifts away from Jesse slightly, carefully eyeing Stacie and Cynthia Rose. And, she realizes with a pang, Amy and Chloe might not be themselves. A wave of nausea crashes over her as she realizes she doesn’t know who she can trust.

“We’ll figure that out later,” Chloe says tightly.

“I mean, I’m obviously me,” Jesse says.

Stacie hums. “Unless there’s more than one clone thing.”

Jesse opens his mouth, then closes it, eyebrows drawing together.

“I mean,” Cynthia Rose starts, “Stacie and I have been together all afternoon, and Amy, if you and Chloe have been talking… and I don’t think Clone Amy would run over one of her kind,” she points out.

“I dunno,” Amy says, “could be a clever ruse.”

They all look at her.

“I’m me, but I’m just saying,” she shrugs. “If I were clone me and not me me, it’s what I’d do.”

“Helpful,” Beca mutters.

Chloe looks at Cynthia Rose. “Did you go to campus today?” she asks sharply.

Cynthia Rose blinks. “Uh, no. No classes today.”

Chloe’s lips tighten. “You’re you. I saw your… double, whatever, on campus today.”

“Oh, that’s... horrifying,” Cynthia Rose says, shuddering.

“Okay, look,” Chloe begins. “I think we just have to trust each other at this point. When the others start showing up, we’ll deal with it then. For now, maybe let’s just get inside.”

“What are we going to do with him?” Beca asks, purposely avoiding looking at the Jesse clone still lying on the road. “We can’t just leave him here. Someone’s going to call the cops.”

Chloe bites her lip, thinking.

“Trunk,” Jesse says abruptly, looking at Bumper’s now-dented, windshield-less car. “He’ll fit until we can sort it out.”

“Not it,” Amy says immediately, placing her index finger on the tip of her nose. “Not touching it. Nose goes.”

Jesse rolls his eyes and steps forward. “Just pop the trunk.”

Amy does, and they watch as he picks up the lifeless form with surprisingly little struggle. Beca glances around, making sure no one is peeking out their window or driving by, but the neighborhood is deserted. It doesn’t take long for Jesse to push the body into the trunk and close it.

“Done,” he says grimly, wiping his hands on his jeans. “That was so weird.”

“Right,” Chloe says with authority, clapping her hands together. Beca is reminded forcefully of Aubrey. “Everyone, into the house. We have to make a plan.”

#pitch perfect horror fic #bechloe #bechloe fic #my writing #beca mitchell #jesse swanson #chloe beale #and some clones idk

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