#the dread of hearing music from a direction you knew no speakers were placed

[commissionsdarian]

It's quiet here. There were plans to have a speaker system around the bigger bunkers to try to fill the sensory gaps. But I think it made things feel worse

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The Reward of Suffering

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Summary: A retelling of the events of season 12 episode 13. 

Gif credit to the wonderful and talented @imagining-in-the-margins​

A/N: After several months of contemplation, I have finally decided to post part one of my first ever fic on Tumblr! This fic will follow the event of Spencer’s prison arc, so needless to say there will be SPOILERS. This first part is super long, but I felt that it needed to be in order to set up the plot. I hope you all enjoy reading! If you would like to be tagged on future updates, let me know!

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem! Reader

Warnings: no smut (yet), mentions of past frug use, cursing, typical CM case talk

Word count: 12.1k

           “Reid is in jail.”

           I felt the color immediately drain from my face and an intense feeling of dread began to wash through my body. I sat up in my chair, back ramrod straight. I briefly looked towards the faces of my teammates, Luke and JJ to my left and Penelope to my right. Their faces were all contorted, displaying varying degrees of shock and confusion. It was hard for any of us to process what we were hearing. The idea of Spencer Reid, the same Spencer who wore a mask to the office on Halloween and put on elaborate magic shows for everyone’s children, doing anything that would warrant being put behind bars was preposterous.

           Surely, this is all just a big misunderstanding.

           “Jail?” Penelope squeaked out. My eyes flitted to her, taking note of the way her eyebrows were drawn together in disbelief. She was thinking the same thing I’m sure we all were; that there was no way Spencer Reid had engaged in any illegal activity. Spencer was a well-educated, highly regarded FBI agent, for Christ sake. He knew the laws of the land better than any of us.

           “In Mexico.”

My attention focused solely on Emily. In the few weeks since I had come to know her, I had begun to look at her not only as a sort of fearless leader, but also as a kind of fiercely loyal friend that I was incredibly lucky to have. Emily somehow managed to find the perfect balance between being accommodating and stern. She was the kind of boss you could have a drink and cut up with after a long day, but she also carried herself in a way that demanded the utmost respect in the workplace. Emily Prentiss’s bravery was unmatched, and I admired her for that.

It shook me to my core when her eyes met mine and I saw the pure, unbridled fear in them. If Emily was scared, then this must be leagues worse than we could have ever imagined.

“What the hell is he doing down there?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and shuffling from one foot to the other.

“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. The call came in to Cruz from their lead investigator.”

Luke was the next to chime in. “What’s he being held for?”

“Drug possession,” Rossi said, before taking on, “with intent to distribute.”

For the second time that day, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Images of Spencer sitting across from me in a dimly lit coffee shop, tripping over his words as he confided in me, spilling his deepest and darkest secrets in a voice barely above a whisper. His voice had grown stronger as he neared the end of his story and he had dug deep in his satchel, producing a small golden coin. We both had tears in our eyes as we looked at the writing engraved into the coin; unity, service recovery. Spencer Reid was ten years sober, and the pride on his face was as clear as day.

There was no way he would throw all of that away.

“What type of drugs?”

“Cocaine and heroin,” Rossi said, his voice shaky.

Rossi and Spencer had always had a good relationship. Spencer had admired his work long before he met him, having read and reread every book he had ever published. It had delighted Spencer that he and Rossi had managed to develop rapport so quickly. Rossi was the only one talented enough at the game of chess to even think of giving Spencer a run for his money, though many of us had tried. In one of many hushed conversations shared on the jet, he had once told me that he had begun to think of Rossi as somewhat of a father figure; he didn’t quite fill the role in the same way Gideon had, but Spencer was thankful just the same. One look at Rossi’s troubled expression was enough to tell me that the feelings were definitely mutual.

“Oh my God. This can’t be happening.” JJ was positively crestfallen, clutching a hand against her own chest in an attempt to ground herself. Her other hand came up to her face as she absentmindedly pushed her hair away.

“We need Lewis and Walker here, ASAP,” Emily directed her order and Penelope, who was quick to comply.

Everyone sprang into action, but I found myself unable to move, weighed down by the deeply unsettling circumstance. It felt as if I was no longer in my own body, like I was watching everything unfold from an outsider’s perspective. Maybe I am, I thought. Maybe this is all just some horrible nightmare. Any second now, my alarm will go off and this will all be over.

I waited and waited for my alarm to sound, but that never happened. Instead, Emily crouched down in front of me, grasping my arm firmly in her right hand.

“I know how devastated you must be. Trust me, I do,” she sympathized, her deep brown eyes boring into my own. “But Reid’s going to need you now more than ever. You’re his best friend and you know him better than anyone. Did he ever mention to you that he was going to Mexico?”

I shook my head numbly, my motions feeling alien and stilted.

“Never. He told me the same thing he told you; that he was going to Houston for a few days to meet with his mother’s doctor,” I whispered. I feared that if I raised my voice any higher, tears would begin to fall. Maintaining my composure was becoming harder with every passing second, and I wasn’t exactly privy to breaking down in front of my boss. “I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought.”

Emily sighed, letting go of my arm before straightening up.

“Apparently, none of us did. But I know damn well that this has to be a mistake. We’ll get him out of this.”

           The apprehension in her voice told me that even she wasn’t sure we could pull this one off.

--

           “This has got to be Scratch,” Tara stated, her voice wafting through the speakers of Luke’s laptop. Emily, Rossi, Luke and I were currently in the jet, on our way to the jail where Spencer was being held. All of us were huddled close together around the computer, listening on with eager ears. “He was laying low, and now we know why.”

           “Crossing the border as a fugitive is a huge risk,” Luke pointed out.

           “The reward is even greater. He’s been punishing the team, and now his target is Reid.” Emily’s voice was full of frustration and contempt.

           “Peter Lewis dropped off the map after attacking Tara’s family,” Stephen chimed in. Not even his deep baritone voice could do anything to calm my frazzled nerves. “Maybe he’s been hiding in Mexico this whole time.”

           “We also have to consider that it isn’t related to him,” I murmured. Several pairs of eyes locked on me, shocked. I had been uncharacteristically quiet since this whole ordeal began, limiting my responses to one word replies and hums of acknowledgement. On a normal day, I’d be throwing in my two cents any time I saw fit. Today, I was struggling just to keep breathing.

           “Who else would it be?” Rossi asked.

           “Drug cartels. Could’ve threatened Reid and used him as a mule.” Saying his name was painful, because it reminded me that we weren’t just talking about a victim with whom we had no personal ties; we were talking about our colleague and beloved friend.

           “Agreed,” Rossi nodded. “This could simply be a case of bad luck. Reid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

           “Spencer’s mom is okay.” JJ’s announcement was like music to my ears. I let out an audible sigh of relief. “The home nurse he hired said all is stable.”

           “How long did he tell the nurse he’d be gone?”

           “Three days.”

           “That sounds reasonable. After the Palm Springs case, Reid said he had to get back to Houston to talk to his mom’s doctor,” Emily interjected. I nodded along in agreement. He’d told me the same thing when I talked to him the night before last.

The fatigue in his voice had alerted me to the fact that things hadn’t been going so well with his mother. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating in the recent months, prompting Spencer to make the tough decision to remove her from the assisted living facility she was at and into his own apartment. His main argument had been that no one could possibly take better care of his mother that him; that he was familiar with her condition and how best to respond when she had an episode. When I had asked him how he was handling it all, he was quick to reassure me that it was not anything he couldn’t handle.

Spencer’s loyalty ran deep; so deep that I knew he would do anything in his power to take care of Diana, but I’d never imagined that it would land him in fucking jail.

“Well, Houston is only a five-hour drive from the border,” Tara mused. “The question is, why did he go down there?”

“And why does he have narcotics?” Rossi was the first to speak on what was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.

“Yeah, exactly. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do that. Those drugs were planted on him,” Penelope insisted.

“Absolutely, but there’s something bigger in play. That’s why he crossed the border and kept it a secret. There’s something he didn’t want to share with any of you.”

I cringed at Stephen’s choice of wording. Spencer and I were as close as two people could be, and there was nothing I withheld from him. He knew everything about me, every dark and embarrassing thought that had ever crossed my mind; yet, he accepted me just the same. I had always assumed that it went both ways, that he was just as honest and forthcoming with me as I was with him. It hurt to know that there were things he kept from me, secrets that he felt he couldn’t trust me with.

But most of all, it absolutely gutted me to think that he was dealing with something so horrible that it landed him in jail, and he that he had to do it all alone.

“Okay, so what would make him risk everything?” Emily pondered aloud.

“His mom.” My answer was instantaneous.

A ping sounded from the other end of the video call, and we all leaning in, our interest piqued.

“Cruz just sent me the arresting report,” Penelope announced, clicking away at her computer before continuing. “It says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase.”

“What?” I choked out, my voice coming out several pitches higher than usual. “Spencer hardly ever drives.” I could feel my stomach begin to churn, bile threatening to force its way up my esophagus. This isn’t right, I wanted to scream. Our Spencer would never get himself involved in something that would put himself or others at risk.

“None of this sounds like him,” Penelope whispered, her thoughts mimicking my own. “It says he was wearing jeans and a baseball cap and that he was really confused. According to the arresting officer, he was really high on something.”

Unity, service, respect; ten years sober. All down the fucking drain.

I shot up from my seat, bolting down the walkway and into the bathroom. I immediately fell to my knees, barely managing to push my hair out of the way before retching into the toilet bowl. I continued like this for several minutes, only pausing momentarily when I felt large, soothing hands running up and down my back. Soft murmurings of reassurance alerted me to the fact that it was Luke who was sitting with me. I let out a strained ‘thank you’ before another wave of nausea hit me, rendering me speechless. Luke held my hair back, never once leaving my side.

When I had thrown up the entirety of my breakfast and all I could do was dry heave, I slumped back against the wall, relishing in how cool it felt against my flushed skin. A stretch of silence passed before he decided to break it.

“That was an extreme reaction,” Luke pointed out, still sitting in the floor with his legs crisscrossed. I noticed how closely he was watching me, his eyes focused on reading my expressions. He was profiling me, that much was obvious. It was an unspoken rule between us all that we would never profile one another, but any fight I had left in me had long since dissipated.

“He worked so hard to get clean, Luke. I wasn’t around when it happened, but he told me about it. He was so proud of himself,” I whispered. My throat was now raw and my voice came out more than a little bit hoarse.

Luke’s eyebrows came together, confusion clear on his face.

“Get clean? What are you talking about?”

I let out a shuddery breath. It felt wrong to divulge information on Spencer’s personal life; like I was betraying his trust. Given the circumstance, I supposed he wouldn’t mind, but it still felt treacherous and left a bad taste in my mouth. Sorry, Spence.

“Ten years ago, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub with DID. He kept him in a remote cabin for several days, alternating between beating him senseless and shooting him full of so much hydromorphone that he couldn’t remember his own name. At one point, he even,” I trailed off, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and running down my cheeks. Luke took my hand in his in an act of reassurance, his way of telling me not to rush. Luke hadn’t been with us for long, and our interactions thus far hadn’t gone much farther than conversations about work. Seeing the way he was offering himself up to me as a confidant and shoulder to cry on made me feel guilty for ever having written him off.

Thank God for Luke Alvez.

After a long pause, I managed to continue. “Spencer ended up having a seizure and he died for several minutes. The unsub’s more benevolent personality, Tobias, was able to resuscitate him. Eventually Spencer was able to take him down, but the trauma mixed with the exposure to such a highly addictive drug led to him developing a dependence on it.”

Luke swore and ran a hand through his hair.

“I never would’ve guessed it. The kid carries himself so well.”

A small, fond smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

“He’s amazing, really. He detoxed all by himself and started going to NA meetings. This past October marked ten years. We celebrated by going to one of those really fancy museums he likes and he insisted on taking the guided tour so that he could see how many errors the guide would make,” I let out a light laugh at the memory. “Every time they’d get something wrong, he’d lean down whisper the correct information so that only I could hear it. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy,” I reminisced, allowing myself to forget about the current situation for the tiniest of moments. I wondered if I’d ever get to experience a day like that with Spencer ever again.

“You two are close, I take it?”

I nodded. Luke had fit in with the group so seamlessly that I had forgotten that he had only been with us for a short time. He didn’t really know the dynamics of everything yet.

“He’s my best friend.”

Luke hummed, and I could feel his eyes looking at me inquisitively.

“And that boyfriend of yours, he doesn’t mind?” Okay, maybe Luke was a little bit more perceptive than he let on.

Gavin and I had begun dating at the end of my first year with the BAU. He and I had meet in the most cliché of ways; bumping into each other in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. Gavin was more than a little bit handsome, but what had reeled me in had been the way he taken one look at the box of cereal in my cart and immediately scrunched his nose up in disgust.

“Plain Cheerios? Are you some sort of masochist, or something?” he had asked, a playful lilt to his voice. Normally, if a strange man had approached me in public, I would’ve been quick to express my disinterest. If my job had taught me anything, it was that a woman being approached by a strange man was a recipe for trouble. But something about him seemed wholly unthreatening, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his forwardness, raising an eyebrow at him.

“As if your choice is any better. Lucky Charms? What are you, six?”

“Don’t even go there. Lucky Charms are magically delicious, thank you very much,” he sniffed, feigning superiority. “And if we’re touching on the subject of age, the only person I know that eats plain Cheerios is my eighty-six-year-old grandmother. You look a bit young to be worrying about heart health, and I refuse to believe that you actually enjoy the taste, so what gives?”

“First of all, I find it concerning that you are so familiar with cereal slogans,” I breezed, leaning against my shopping cart. “Second, I am curious; do you make it a habit to harass people about their cereal preferences?”

“Only if they’re cute.”

And that had been that. Several dates later he had asked me to be his girlfriend over a dinner he had attempted to make himself. I said yes and he kissed me, nearly knocking over his plate of burnt chicken parmesan in the process.

“We, uh, have an understanding. He knows that Spencer and I are just good friends.”

Gavin and I did have an understanding, but it wasn’t a very solid one. In fact, I was sure that he damn near despised Spencer’s very existence. He had done a good job at hiding it for a while, but after coming home one night from an impromptu movie night with Spencer, he had revealed to me that he had a jealous streak a mile long. I reassured him that there was absolutely nothing that he needed to worry about, but I could tell he didn’t believe a word of it. Gavin had out flat demanded that I cut all ties with Spencer, and I had laughed in his face.

“I’m not the kind of girl that likes to be told what to do. Either you learn to live with him being a part of my life, or you can find someone else to boss around, because I can tell you right now, that won’t fly with me.”

My threat had proven to be effective, and he had apologized, and that had been the end of that. He still wasn’t fond of the idea that Spencer and I were such close friends, but he hadn’t tried to proposition me with any more ridiculous ultimatums.

“That’s good to hear,” Luke hummed, squeezing my hand before rising to his feet. I could tell that he didn’t necessarily buy into what I was saying, but I was thankful that he didn’t press it any further. “What do you say we go back out there. We’ve got to be getting close by now.”

I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I bent down to the faucet, swishing some water in my mouth before spitting it out.

When Luke and I returned to our seats, I was immediately aware of the way Rossi and Emily were eyeing me; like I was a delicate thing that needed to be handled with kid gloves.

I absolutely hated it.

“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” I said, before turning my attention back to the video call and saying, “so, what did we miss?”

--

The police station was surprisingly small. The hallways were narrow and the light bulbs above me gave off an almost green tint, casting an eerie glow on the place. The sounds of disgruntled detainees calling out drifted through the hallways, sounding akin to the moaning of a ghost. My eyes darted around constantly as we walked, the uneasy feeling in my stomach growing with every step we took towards the heart of the precinct.

“Thank you for calling us.” Emily’s words were directed at the police officer, Chief Castenada, who was leading us down the hall. He was a short man with graying hair and a seemingly permanent frown etched into his face. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he wasn’t happy that four federal agents were in his jail.

“A U.S. fed in our custody isn’t something we see every day,” the man said, his tone entirely unfriendly. I grimaced.

“Have you gotten any of his tox screen panels back yet?” I prodded, quickening the pace of my strides until I was walking alongside him. He looked down at me like I was a pesky gnat that he wanted to bat away.

“No.”

Color me unsurprised.

“You’ll need to expedite that. We have cause to believe that Doctor Reid was drugged.”

“He was definitely high and driving like a bat out of Hell. Not to mention he had $20,000 worth of heroin in his possession,” he sneered, ceasing to walk and staring down at me with distaste. “Both of which put my officers at risk. You’re in our jurisdiction. Don’t forget that. The rules are different here.”

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back with some smart-assery of my own, but a hand at my elbow stopped me. I turned and saw that it was Luke, who nodded his head to the left of us. I looked in the direction he was referring to, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

Just up ahead was a holding cell with several poorly constructed benches in the center of it. On the very first row of seats sat Spencer, who had seemingly retreated in to himself. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped pitifully around himself, much like you’d imagine a child might do to keep warm. Spencer’s clothes were tattered and dirty and a bandage adorned his right hand. His usually beautiful chestnut curls were flying around his head in a mess of tangles and dirt. Despite the fact that Spencer towered over most of us, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly small he looked.

Even as awful as he looked in his current state, a direct contradiction of the way he usually presented himself, I’d never been happier to lay my eyes on someone in my life.

My feet carried me forward before my brain had time to catch up. I closed the distance between me and the cell, pausing and taking a good, long look at him before allowing myself to speak. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet. His gaze was instead trained on something at the other end of the room, his eyes red rimmed and glassy and his face completely slack.

“Spence?” I called out, the nickname falling from my lips like a prayer. In a way I suppose it was; a prayer that he was alright, that the horrible things Penelope had told us about were nothing but a horrible lie. At first, I was worried that he hadn’t heard me or that he was too out of his mind to even register the sound of my voice. Just when I opened my mouth to speak again, he turned his head in way that I would have described as comically slow if the situation hadn’t been so serious. The spacey look in his eyes told me that my prayers wouldn’t be answered.

Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, but his face remained completely blank, devoid of all expression. I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, until it hit me like a ton of bricks; he had no clue who I was.

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him how could he forget me, of all people. My anger was irrational and unfair, but I couldn’t help it. While I understood that it was no fault of his own, that the drugs coursing through his veins were to blame, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I swallowed down the emotions that threatened to spill out, pushing them down into the depths of my being. I couldn’t let my emotional attachment hinder my judgment. I needed to be as vigilant as ever, no, more vigilant. The fate of my favorite person in the whole world depended on it.

“It’s me, Y/N,” I explained, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage. “It’s good to see you, Spencer. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He watched me for a moment before standing and making his way to where I was leaning against the bars.

“Y/N,” Spencer murmured when he reached me, as if testing my name out to see how it rolled off of his tongue. His stare was still vacant, but having him in front of me after worrying about his wellbeing for the last five hours was more than enough for now. I’d take him however I could have him. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, we came,” I murmured, my eyes raking over every inch of his body for any signs of distress. Other than the bandage on his hand, he seemed to be in one piece.

Rossi was quick to join me, coming to a stop at my left.

“We’re going to get you out of here, kid,” he reassured, his tone more serious than I’d ever heard it.

           “We need to work out some details with the locals, okay?” Emily said, waiting for a response but getting none.

           “Who was your contact down here?” Luke asked.

           Spencer was quicker to respond this time.

           “Rosa,” he mumbled as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled it up. On his inner arm, the name Rosa Medina was written in what was undoubtably his own handwriting. Spencer was notorious around the office for having the worst handwriting. I like to blame it on the fact that he was a doctor, which always elicited a laugh from him. “I think she’s a doctor.”

           Luke pulled his phone out from his pocket, snapping a picture of the name.

           “Where did you meet her?”

           Spencer shook his head and a frown pulled down at the corner of his lips.

           “I… I don’t remember.”

           “If you saw her, would you remember her?”

           Spencer nodded in affirmation.

           “You’re missing time, aren’t you?” I asked, causing him to look at me once more. His brows furrowed together and he was nodding again, slightly surer of himself this time.

           “It’s peeking out. It’s coming in flashes.”

           “And you’ve been drugged?”

           I didn’t know it was possible for his face to fall any more, but the look of shame that manifested itself when he registered my words was absolutely heartbreaking.

           “Yeah, but I didn’t take it myself,” he insisted, a spark of life burning bright in the depths of his eyes. Somewhere in there, under the haze of narcotics, was the same Spencer that had fought tooth and nail for his sobriety all those years ago. My heart broke for him.

           “Of course, you didn’t, Spence. We know that,” I said, almost reaching out to touch him before thinking better of it. “We’re thinking it might be Scratch.”

           Just like before, when I had first spoken to him, absolutely no sign of recognition showed itself on his face.

           “Scratch,” he muttered detachedly, much the same as before.

           Luke’s phone rang then and he excused himself for a moment before stepping away. I looked to Rossi and Emily, who seemed to also be at a loss for words. The silence that filled the room was excruciating, and I once again started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry out in frustration. The whole situation was unfair in a way that I didn’t think was possible. I was a big believer in karma; put good in and get good out, or something like that. But now, standing outside of a holding cell that looked more like a dungeon than anything, I was ready to throw away that belief entirely.

Of all the people that I know, Spencer was the least deserving of something like this.

           Just when I began to consider ducking outside for a breath of fresh air, Luke returned.

           “Hey, the team sent this. Is this the doctor you met?” he asked, pointing to a picture of a woman he had pulled up on his phone. The woman was of Mexican descent, with short, choppy gray hair. She appeared to be middle aged, from what I could guess.

           Spencer stared at the picture before nodding.

           “Her alias is Rosa Medina and her real name is Nadi Ramos. Garcia tracked her to a motel just outside of town. Does that sound familiar?”

           Spencer’s brows furrowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

           “No.”

           “Okay, we’ll need to take Castenada and his officers with us,” Emily announced, before turning and heading towards the door.

           “Do you want company here?” Rossi asked.

           Spencer seemed to take a moment to process before answering with an almost imperceptible nod. He turned his head and focused his gaze on me.

           “Can… Can you stay?”

           Rossi turned to face me too, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you okay with this?’ I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure that I could handle this; the this that I am referring to being a nearly catatonic Spencer Reid. I was used to the Spencer who regaled me with interesting tidbits of information whenever there was a lull in conversation. The Spencer that stood before me now was a shell of his former self, and that terrified me.

           “I’ll be fine here. Let me know if you guys find anything,” I told Rossi. He nodded once to me before enveloping me in a tight hug.

           “Resta forte mia piccolo colomba,” Rossi murmured in my ear. I hadn’t a clue what the phrase meant, but the words draped over me like a warm blanket. Suddenly the weight of the current situation didn’t seem so heavy, and I felt immensely thankful that a man like David Rossi was in my life.

           Rossi pressed his lips to the top of my head before releasing me. He gave one last, despairing look to Spencer before hurrying off after Luke and Emily. It could’ve been the light playing tricks on me, or maybe the exhaustion, but when Rossi turned away from us, I swear I saw tears welling in his eyes.

           And then there were two.

           I took glance at my watch for the first time all day, cringing when I saw the time to be 8:17PM. Quantico was an hour ahead, meaning Gavin was probably losing his shit wondering where I was. I sighed, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and turning it on.

           “Spence, I’m going to make a phone call really quick,” I murmured. He offered no reply, just as I had come to expect. He was watching me, standing stock still in the same place he had been the entire time. I moved to stand in the doorway, hopefully far enough away that he couldn’t hear me anymore.

           As soon as my phone booted up, a plethora of notifications came through. Seventeen missed calls and twenty-four unread text messages, to be exact. I decided to forgo reading the messages, instead pressing the return call button and tapping my foot anxiously against the floor. Gavin didn’t keep me waiting long, picking up on the very first ring.

           “About time you answer your goddamn phone,” he hissed out. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I even called your office phone and no one would answer that, either. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?”

           “I’m… In Mexico.”

           A long pause followed and I held my breath, waiting for the onslaught to begin.

           “You left the country without even bothering to tell me?” Gavin asked, his voice raising in volume. I could picture him now; probably sitting on our sofa, fists balled together and jaw clenched. “Would you like to enlighten me as to why you’re in Mexico?”

           I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling deep inside me. Today was arguably the shittiest day of my entire life, and I certainly didn’t need Gavin harping on about how I hadn’t been in touch. Honestly, informing him of my whereabouts had been the furthest thing from my mind.

           “It’s Spencer,” I began, trying to think of the proper way to word it all. “He got into some… trouble. We think he’s being framed by Scratch.”

           “Isn’t that the guy that just went after Tara’s family?”

           “Yeah, it is. He’s been laying low for the past few months, and I guess he was just building up to all of this. It’s really bad, Gav,” I whispered the last bit, hoping that Spencer couldn’t hear me. If he did, he made no move that indicated it. “He’s high out of his mind and can’t remember anything.”

           “How long will you guys be there?” Gavin asked, completely ignoring the fact that I mentioned Spencer at all. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from saying something I might regret. I understand that he doesn’t like the guy, but he could show some common decency and at least pretend.

           “I’m not entirely sure. Rossi, Emily, and Luke just headed out to go check on a lead. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

           “Wait, so, where are you?”

           “I’m at the jail with Spencer, why?” I inquired, running my hand through my hair and absentmindedly combing out the knots that had formed. I was sure that I looked a right mess, but I couldn’t be too bothered to care.

           “Let me get this straight. They left you alone with a guy who is wasted on God knows what, not knowing how he’ll react to it?” A bitter laugh flowed through the phone speaker. “Sounds like you don’t exactly work with the smartest bunch. What if he tries to attack you or something?”

           I let his words hang in the air for a moment, unable to formulate a reply that wasn’t something like you’re being an absolute fucking dick bag right now. No, I was a grown woman and I was going to communicate like one, despite the fact that his ignorant reply was making me shake with rage.

           “The first thing I’m going to address is the fact that this is not some guy. We’re talking about my best friend and teammate, and his name is Spencer. Use it,” I said through gritted teeth. “The second thing is that he’s not some wild animal. He’s not going to try to come through the bars and pounce on me. What he’s going through right now is traumatic, and he doesn’t need to be left alone right now. Show some compassion.”

           “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry,” Gavin muttered. It was the most unapologetic apology I’d ever heard in my life, prompting me to roll my eyes. I don’t understand how I can love someone and want to throttle them simultaneously. “I’m just worried about you, is all. How are you holding up?”

           “I’m as good as can be expected,” I sighed, bringing my free hand up to rub at my eyes. “I’m just tired of watching this guy terrorize all of my friends. First, he takes Hotch from us, then he nearly kills Tara’s brother, and now this. I’m beginning to think we’ll never catch a break.”

           “I know you’re tired, baby. Just try to hang on a little bit longer. As much as I question some of their decisions, your team is good at what they do. You guys will catch him. I have faith in you.”

           There it is. That’s the Gavin that I fell in love with.

           “Thank you,” I murmured. “It’s been a long day and I needed to hear that.” I cast a glance back at Spencer, who was now staring down at his bandaged hand, an indiscernible expression on his face. He looked so lost, standing all alone in the grimy holding cell. The lights cast shadows on his face, making his already angular face look gaunt. The Spencer I knew was the human embodiment of light; filling up every room he was in with his delightfully idiosyncratic presence. The Spencer in the cell was so shrouded in darkness that the room seemed to be swallowing him whole, taking his brilliance and crushing it into smithereens.

“Gav, I think I need to get back in there.”

           “Yeah, alright. Just keep me in the loop this time, please. I don’t like not knowing where my girlfriend is.”

           “I’ll make sure to check in whenever I can,” I promised, before tacking on a, “love you.”

           “Love you, too.”

           I pocketed my phone with hands that shook, no longer from rage but from apprehension. I liked to think that I was good at my job. I had done well at the academy; not well enough to have graduated at the top of my class, but I did manage to be in the top ten. After lucking into the job of a lifetime, I had fully committed myself to learning to be the best profiler I could possibly be. Two years of piecing together the innerworkings of criminal minds had taught me more than I ever could have imagined about the human psyche. I had talked many a deranged psychopath down from the ledge, and I had saved more than a few lives along the way. Unfortunately, not all cases can end favorably. Those are the ones that taught me the most.

           For all that I learned, nothing could’ve prepared me to deal with the shell of a man that stood before me.

           I was standing in front of him now, fiddling nervously with my hands. When Spencer had originally told me about his battle with addiction, I had taken it upon myself to do some research of my own. I wanted to be able to identify the signs, God forbid he ever relapse. While conducting my research, I had read somewhere that the best way to support someone during a come down is by remaining positive and creating a calm, safe environment.

           I was currently the antithesis of calm, but for Spencer’s sake, I was going to do my best.

           I took a step forward and offered him a small smile.

           “I’ve never seen you in jeans and boots before,” I said. I was proud of myself when the words came out sounding relatively casual. “It’s a good look on you, but I have to admit I prefer the academic look. I suppose it’s the sapiosexual in me.”

           He gave no response, but the tinniest tug at the corner of his mouth told me that he found my comment amusing.

           I let my eyes drag over him again and I fixated on the bandage on his right hand, frowning.

           “Do you remember what happened to your hand?”

           Spencer raised his hand up, absentmindedly flipping it over and inspecting it.

           “I don’t know,” he murmured. Spencer’s usually high pitched voice came out gravely, no doubt a byproduct of dehydration related to the drugs. My eyes skimmed across the holding cell and I frowned when I saw no water fountain in sight.

           “M’ gonna go get you some water, okay?” I turned away and pivoted on my heel, taking one step before a hand wrapped around my upper arm. I spun around so fast I nearly caught whiplash.

           Spencer’s eyes were wide and full of panic, conveying more emotion than he’d had since we’d arrived. His eyebrows were drawn together as well, contorting his face into a pitiful expression.

           “Don’t go,” he rasped, his hand still firmly grasping my arm. “Please.”

           The hopelessness in his voice was like a dagger through my heart. I nodded fervently and placed my hand over his, prompting him to loosen his grip. He did, and I took his hand in both of mine. I rubbed my thumbs over his skin, haphazardly tracing patterns in an attempt to calm him.

           “Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” I soothed, bringing his hand up to my mouth and placing a chaste kiss to the skin. “I’ve got you, Spence. It’s all going to be okay.”

           The look of panic slowly washed away the longer we stood there. He held onto my hands like I was a lifeline, the only thing tethering him to the ground. While I longed for nothing more than to really embrace him, to pull all of him into my arms and hold on for dear life, the bars that separated us inhibited me from doing so. So instead I just relished in the feel of his hand intertwined with my own.

           It would have to be enough for now.

--

           Nadi Ramos was dead.

           I didn’t have to ask Emily to know that the situation had gone from bad to absolutely fucking terrible. We knew Scratch was a horrendous individual; that much had been proved by his preferred modus operandi. We also knew that he had become fixated on taking down each of us one by one. He’d tried twice with Hotch, even going as far as to target his son, resulting in the two of them joining WITSEC for their own safety. The next blow had come when he had set his sights on Tara, or, more specifically, her brother. We’d gotten lucky with that one, having located and freed her brother just in the nick of time. After the incident with Tara’s brother, we all expected the next attack to come in quick succession. When several months passed with no sign of Scratch, we all became terribly on edge. No one was saying it, but we all were waiting to see which one of us would be next, crossing our fingers and hoping it wouldn’t be us.

           I knew that none of us were exempt from Scratch’s wrath, but for some reason, I’d never imagined him targeting Spencer.

           And target him he fucking did.

           “We know you didn’t do this,” Emily spoke for the group, knowing good and well that we were all on the same page.

           “How did it happen?” Spencer’s back was to us. His shoulders were slumped and his face downturned.

           “She was stabbed multiple times. It looked personal,” Luke answered, his voice low and careful. It was obvious to us all that he was being extra careful with his wording, making sure to broach the subject carefully. We all knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Spencer was innocent; but that didn’t mean that Spencer did.

           Chief Castenada trudged into the holding cell, the portrait of all things cranky and unpleasant. His presence acted as a proverbial storm cloud on an already shitty day.

           “We got the results of your blood work. There’s cocaine and heroin in your system.”

           “What else?” Emily asked, causing Castenada to give her a confused look.

           “He was in possession of cocaine and heroin when he was arrested. I found what I needed.”

           I felt myself bristle and before I knew it, my mouth was open and I was spouting out pure venom.

           “Thanks so much for doing the bare minimum, but we’re going to need a full tox screen panel. We’re looking for scopolamine.”

           Emily’s eyes cut over to me and if I hadn’t been fighting on Spencer’s behalf, I would’ve withered under the weight of the shut the fuck up look she gave me. Instead, I continued on, silently praying I’d still have a job after today.

           “It’ll take longer, but we need it,” I explained in what I hoped was a slightly more accommodating tone. Castenada gave a curt nod in reply before exiting the room, grumbling something in Spanish that had Luke and Emily shooting daggers at his retreating figure.

           “Do I want to know?”

           Luke shook his head, shooting a small smile in my direction.

           “Let’s just say he’s not your biggest fan, and we’ll leave it at that,” he offered, before straightening out his expression and turning back to Spencer. “You were given a speed ball. The opiates block the dopamine in your brain. That’s why things go from clear to hazy. The combination of the drugs causes a dissociative state and explains the memory loss. Are you coming down now?”

           “I think so,” Spencer said. His cadence wasn’t as slow as it had been earlier, which was a relief.

           “Do you think you could do a cognitive interview?” Emily’s voice was hopeful, and if Spencer was one thing, it was a people pleaser. It was obvious that he was overwhelmed; I had taken note of the fact that he was displaying one of his nervous ticks. Spencer was touching the pad of his thumb on the tips of his other fingers in rapid succession. Despite his obvious discomfort, he nodded his head in agreeance.

           “I’ll try.”

           Rossi took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to hold up the plastic bag in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at it inquisitively. There were five vials of a murky, dark brown liquid in the bag.

           “There were five of these in your bag at the motel. Do you recognize them?”

           Spencer’s eyes zeroed in on the bag and its contents, his brows furrowing. It wasn’t long until a look of partial recognition flashed across his face. It was so faint that if he hadn’t been in a room of profilers, it would’ve gone unnoticed.

           “What is it?” I asked from my place at his side. He’d been somewhat clingy since the incident that had transpired while everyone was at the motel, gravitating towards me as soon as we all had been granted entrance to the holding cell. I knew that he needed familiarity right now; he was in a very vulnerable state and he needed something that made him feel safe and secure.

           Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I had realized what he was doing, that I was that thing that made him feel safe and secure.

Spencer opened his mouth once before closing it, as if trying to put his thoughts into words was difficult. He did this a few more times before settling on,

“Whatever’s in those vials, I was giving it to my mom,” he said, his eyes darting around the room as he spoke. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

           “I’ll have them run it through the lab,” Rossi said, before leaving and heading towards the direction in which Castenada had retreated.

           Emily and Luke were quick to hop into a rushed conversation, leaving only Spencer and I still in the cell. I looked up at him, at the way his forehead creased as he bit his lip in quiet contemplation.

           “Are you sure you’re ready for a cognitive? I know the effects may be wearing off, but you’re gonna be cloudy for a while. If you don’t want to do it now, all you have to do is say the word,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so that only he could hear it. “I can tell that you’re a bit overwhelmed, and that’s okay.”

           Spencer’s response came in the form of a shrug of his shoulders.

           “I want to try, because I know it’s important. I just don’t know that it will be of much help,” he replied, casting his eyes down to me.

           “Yes, it is important, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We’ll figure this out even if you can’t remember it all right now.”

           Spencer nodded once before running his tongue across his chapped bottom lip.

           “I don’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill her,” he whispered, barely audible. Even though his words were quiet, I could hear the desperation in them; almost as if he was begging me to believe them, begging himself to believe them.

           I made the irrational decision then to throw professionalism aside and wrap both of my arms around his torso, my grip tight and assured. Spencer’s aversion to touch was common knowledge amongst us all, but for some reason that never seemed to apply to me, and I could see in his eyes that the way we were all treating him like he was fragile was wounding him more than he would ever admit. I hoped to remedy that with my embrace, and the speed in which he reciprocated was so fast that I was certain he was thankful. He wrapped his injured hand around my waist, the other finding purchase in my hair. I felt his chest move as he let out a shuddering breath.

           “I know you didn’t, Spence. Everyone on the team knows you didn’t,” I reassured him, my words muffled as my face was pressed against his chest. “And we’re not going to stop until everyone else knows it, too.”

           I was well aware that our embrace had garnered the attention of our teammates, but Spencer’s hold on me hadn’t faltered in the slightest, so I didn’t let mine either. Instead, I gripped the fabric of his flannel shirt tighter in my hands.

--

           When Emily exited the room in which they had conducted the cognitive interview, the look on her face was grim. I visibly cringed at the sight as I felt the sliver of hope that I had left die a miserable death.

           We are so beyond fucked.

           “How’s he doing?” Rossi asked, obviously taking note of the distress on Emily’s face.

           “He’s made some breakthroughs, but I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be,” she sighed, running a hand through her jet-black hair. When none of us spoke, Emily’s eyes flitted around, finally noticing that our expressions were a direct reflection of her own. “What is it?”

           “They just charged Reid with the murder of Nadi Ramos.”

           Hearing it said aloud wasn’t any easier the second time.

--

           While the rest of us had taken it upon ourselves to lean against the cement walls, Luke had begun pacing down the short hallway. After about ten minutes of unbearable silence, he decided he’d had enough.

           “We can’t get him out of here, can we?” he finally spoke, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

           “I don’t know how.”

           “He didn’t kill her,” I reiterated, speaking more to myself than the three of them.

           “If all I had to go on was the evidence, I would swear he did,” Rossi sighed. I knew he was right; Spencer’s personal belongings were all over the hotel room, which was about as incriminating as you could get. “But knowing Reid, hearing the cognitive…”

           “Yes, he said there was another person in that motel room, but,” Emily pressed play on the audio recording, and her voice proceeded to flow through the speakers.

           “Who has the knife? Who is stabbing Rosa?”

           “I don’t know. It’s in my hand.”

           Emily pressed the power button and the screen went black.

           “Right now, this is just more evidence against him.”

           “So, what do we do now? Do we just sit and twiddle our thumbs until the consulate agrees to the extradition?” I asked. “There’s got to be more we can do. We can’t let them take him to jail, he won’t survive in there.”

           “I called in some help from IRT. Clara Seger and Matt Simmons will be arriving at any moment,” Emily said, checking her phone after hearing it ping. “In fact, that would be them. They’re here.”

           I breathed a sigh of relief as we all fell into step beside Emily. Having people from other areas of expertise that are willing to help is a good thing. Maybe they’ll be able to see something that we didn’t.

--

           “We come bearing good news,” I announced, leading the group as we all entered the holding cell. Spencer was quick to turn around and the corners of his lips pulled upwards as he set his sights on all of us. “Back up is here.”

           “Hey Spencer,” Matt greeted, offering up a small smile before crossing his arms across his chest.

           “Hey,” Spencer replied, moving to stand up from his spot on the bench. He was still a little wobbly on his feet, but he was doing much better than he was when we had arrived. “Thank you for coming.”

           “Yeah, of course. Jack and me are finishing up a case in Costa Rica, so we hopped on a commercial plane to get here,” Clara explained.

           “We’re trying to stop you transfer to El Diablo.”

           Spencer’s eyes darted over to me and he swallowed hard before speaking.

           “Do you think it’s possible?” Hearing the hope in his voice tugged at my heart strings. The way that he could manage to stay optimistic at time like this was a true testament to his character.

           “Yes,” Clara began. “Lab reports on the vials came back and some of what was in there hasn’t been approved by the FDA, but there aren’t any illegal substances.”

           “That’s great news,” I sighed, letting out the breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

           “Is there anything else you remember about your time here?”

           “I remember what happened to the vials at home. My mom threw most of them out.”

           “So, that’s why you were here. To get more,” Clara said in an attempt to clarify.

           “It must be,” Spencer murmured, shuffling anxiously from one foot to the other.

           “Well, you’re off the hook for that. There’s no contraband involved,” Matt announced. Okay, this is good. One less thing to worry about.

           “Yeah, but we’re still looking at the planted drug and the murder charges, which could keep you here for a long time.”

           “Can we do anything to delay the transfer?” I wondered aloud. Clara took into account what I said and sighed, before turning towards Spencer once again.

           “You said that you met Nadi, who calls herself Rosa, in Houston. Why didn’t she just give you the vials in the U.S.?”

           “I don’t know,” Spencer said, running his uninjured hand through his hair. “I don’t know, but she helped us and I trusted her. I was right to. I still believe that.”

           “Well, she convinced you to cross the border multiple times. She had you risk your life,” Matt argued.

           “Because she must have something to lose, too,” I mumbled, eliciting a series of fervent nods from Clara. “Family, maybe?”

           “We need to know more about her,” Clara said.

           And then, something glorious happened. It was like a switch had flipped inside of Spencer’s head, and all of the sudden the lights were back on. I could tell that he had been struck with an idea, and it was a wonderous sight to behold.

           “What was in those vials?” Spencer asked, only solidifying my observation.

           Matt produced a paper with the lab results and began reading off the results.

           “There are so nootropic compounds like Ampalex, uh, but also some more natural stuff; coral calcium, jimson weed, coconut oil, a variety of vitamins. B12, D3-”

           “Where are we right now?” Spencer interjected.

           “Matamoros, Northern Mexico.”

           “Jimson weed, otherwise known as the Devil’s Snare, originated in Mexico but its natural growing region is further north or south of the border,” Spencer said, his words flowing out rapidly. I felt my heart soar and I didn’t even try to suppress the smile that fought its way to my face.

           “Boy Genius is back,” I announced, and for just a moment, the mood in the room lightened for the first time all day.

           “So, if it isn’t from here, then were did she get it?” Clara asked.

           “Let me get Garcia on,” Emily murmured, dialing the number and tapping her foot as it rang. On the third ring, Penelope’s bright and cheerful voice filled the room, a sunbeam shining through on a cloudy day.

           “Please tell me you’re calling to tell me some good news.”

           “Garcia, I have some questions for you.”

           “Hey, Penelope,” Matt greeted, earning a pleasantly surprised gasp from the woman on the other end.

           “Oh my God, it’s the dulcet tones of Matt Simmons,” Penelope gushed. “Are you there to save the day?”

           “I’m trying. Clara’s here, too.” A relieved sigh floated through the speakers.

           “Knowing we have you guys as backup is providing me some much-needed hope, and I work better this way.”

           “Hey, lady,” Clara greeted. “We’re trying to catch up on a few things. Where is Nadi Ramos from?” Before Clara even managed to finish her sentence, the sound of Garcia’s acrylic nails tapping away at her keyboard could be heard.

           “Mm she lives with her family just north of Matamoros.”

           “That must be where she got the jimson weed,” Emily pointed out.

           “What’s weird in she crosses the border, like, a lot.”

           “Why?”

           “Well, she works in Houston at that clinic, but she also helps at a low-income healthcare center. I can’t find a visa on her, which is double weird. And, in finishing the weird trifecta, there’s a social security number on her W2 form.”

           “Social security? She’s an American citizen?” I asked. Matt confirmed my suspicions with a nod of his head.

           “Yeah, she had dual citizenship. She was born in Houston, and her family had to move back to Mexico. She lives with them and she works in the U.S.”

           “This changes everything. We need to talk to the consulate,” Emily stated.

           Just as things were beginning to look up, Chief Castenada decided to grace us with his presence once more; and this time, he had an entourage.

           “It’s time for his transfer,” Castenada announced, looking pointedly in my direction.

           “We’ve had a break in the case,” Emily argued, shaking her head at him. “The victim was also American, and that calls for extradition.”

           Castenada merely shrugged before walking past us all.

           “I’ve got orders, sorry,” he muttered, making Gavin’s apology from earlier in the day sound heartfelt in comparison. Castenada wasted no time in beginning to place handcuffs on Spencer, locking them in place with a definitive click. Spencer and I shared a look of panic before both of us looked towards Emily in a silent plea.

           One of the men roughly grabbed Spencer by the arm and led him from the room. I watched in horror as they led him away, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I barely registered the fact that Emily was now on the phone. I just stood there, staring blankly at the entrance to the cell.

           “With the victim having dual citizenship, we now have concurrent jurisdiction. It was my understanding that the official order to extradite SSA Spencer Reid would be evaluated,” Emily damn near snarled into the phone. She paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other line, before a look of relief washed over her face. “I understand, thank you.” She promptly hung up the phone before turning to face Luke. “They’re taking it to their brass. Go get him.”

           Luke took off in a rush, not needing to be told twice.

           I only wished I could be there to see the look on Castenada’s face.

--

           “We’re working on all channels here. Matt Cruz is on with the consulate right now. We could get an immediate extradition, but it’s just the beginning,” Emily explained, her voice stern.

           Spencer regarded her with a weary expression. The drug induced haze had finally lifted, leaving him painfully aware of how dire the situation was.

           “I really screwed up and I’m so sorry,” he choked out, resulting in a crack forming in Emily’s hard exterior. I couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t easy to stay mad at Spencer Reid. Spencer’s eyes were like kryptonite to most; big and brown and full of emotion. I’m sure if you searched ‘puppy dog eyes’ in the dictionary, a picture of Spencer Reid would be found in example.

           “It was for the right reason.”

           “I can’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill anyone.” It was obvious in the way that he kept repeating the words that he was desperate for us to believe him. No amount of calm reassurance from us could quell the voice in his head that was surely telling him that we thought him guilty.

           “We do, too.”

           Clara was first to enter the cell, immediately followed by Matt.

           “Hey, they approved the extradition,” Clara announced, smiling brightly at the three of us.

           “Effective immediately,” Matt added on.

           We all exchanged relieved smiles before Matt and Clara led Spencer from the cell. Emily and I were quick to follow, right on Matt’s heels when we were stopped by Castenada.

           “I must point out that I feel like justice isn’t exactly being served with this move.”

           I pursed my lips together. In the short time we had been in Mexico, my feelings towards the man had grown from distaste to almost a full-blown hatred. That being said, I couldn’t help but understand where he was coming from. If Spencer hadn’t been a federal agent, he wouldn’t be granted the privilege of the extradition. Nor would he be allowed to fly home with us. I hated to admit it, but Castenada made a valid point.

           “I understand, but I can assure you that this has gone to the highest ranks and there will be a full investigation,” Emily reassured him.

           “Thank you for working with us,” I offered in an attempt to smooth over the rift I had created earlier. Now that my judgement wasn’t so clouded by my need to defend Spencer, I could see the error of my ways. I hadn’t been the most professional.

           Castenada nodded once in my direction before turning his attention back to Emily.

           “For our reports, I would like to have the recording of that cognitive interview.”

           I felt my blood run cold. That interview would just add to the list of things that could be used against Spencer in court. He had openly admitted to holding the murder weapon in his own hands, an admission that would surely earn him twenty to life.

           We cannot give him that recording.

           Emily seemed to be on the same page as I was.

           “I didn’t record it.”

           Castenada’s face contorted into an ugly frown.

           “But that was our agreement,” he squawked angrily.

           “I determined he was still under the influence. Anything he said wouldn’t have clarified matters.”

           Castenada’s gaze never faltered, eyeing Emily in an attempt to discern if she was giving him the run around. Luckily, Castenada was unable to find a hint of dishonesty on Emily’s face, and he nodded in resignation.

           Years of profiling will teach you how to control your micro expressions.

           “You’re committed agents. And I’ve worked with the IRT before. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

           “We do. I promise,” I stated, my voice giving off more confidence than I felt. Yes, I thought to myself, there’s no doubt that we’re good at what we do.

           But so is Scratch.

--

           All was quiet on the jet, the steady thrum of the engine being the only sound that could be heard. Rossi had been the only one able to fall asleep, something that I would be sure to tease him about later. Next to Rossi sat Emily, who had busied herself with flipping through Spencer’s arresting report. Clara and Matt sat across from them, engulfed in their own hushed conversation.

           Spencer had opted to sit on the couch, but he didn’t allow himself to sprawl out like he normally would have done. He was visibly exhausted, wiping at his eyes frequently in an attempt to keep the fatigue at bay. It was almost like he was punishing himself; like he didn’t feel he deserved the solace that sleep would bring.

           “You should go talk to him. See if you can’t get him to lay down,” Luke whispered encouragingly from his seat beside mine.

           “I have no idea what to say to him,” I confessed. I tore my gaze away from Spencer and turned my attention to Luke. “There’s nothing I can say that will make this any better.”

           “You’re not wrong about that, but maybe just letting him know you’re here for him will help. Just go and sit with him, I’m sure he could use a friend right now.”

           Luke was right. I let out a dramatic sigh before shooting Luke a pointed look.

           “Since when did you get so insightful?”

           A grin stretched its way across his face.

           “Always have been, sweetness. It’s part of my charm. I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

           “And on that note, I’ll be going,” I announced, standing up from my seat and walking the short distance to the couch. Luke’s chuckles sounded off behind me and I couldn’t help but smile; note to self, make more of an effort to get to know Luke Alvez.

I approached slowly, hoping not to startle him as he seemed to be lost in his own world. He didn’t notice me until I came to a stop in front of the couch. Spencer’s head shot up suddenly, the worry on his face melting away to form a small smile.

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile tenfold. “You looked like you could use some company. Do you mind if I sit?”

Spencer gave me a soft smile and scooted over, patting at the space next to him. I lowered myself onto the couch, angling my body so it was facing him.

“You’re tired,” I observed, leaning back into the soft cushions. Spencer shrugged in reply, opening his mouth to argue, only for a yawn to slip out. I let out a light laugh. “Don’t even try to argue. There’s no telling how long you’ve been up. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

Spencer’s eyes reluctantly met mine and I felt almost paralyzed when I saw the sheer vulnerability in them.

“Researchers from the University of Cardiff conducted a two-part study looking at whether people’s daily frustration or fulfilment of their psychological needs, such as feeling autonomous or competent, affects their dreams. The results from the first study showed that people who were frustrated with their daily situation tended to have recurring dreams in which they were falling, failing or being attacked,” he rasped out, his words jumbling together as they fell from his mouth in rapid succession. “The lead author on the study concluded that negative dream emotions may directly result from distressing dream events, and might represent the psyche’s attempt to process and make sense of particularly psychologically challenging waking experiences.”

“And you’re worried your dreams will reflect what happened today.”

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek before nodding in affirmation.

“I can’t promise you that you won’t dream about those things,” I began, my voice coming out soft. “But I can tell you that sleep deprivation can cause lots of very unfortunate symptoms like impaired memory, reduced physical strength, and inability to concentrate. Do you know how I know those things?”

A light flush dusted over the tops of his cheeks.

“Probably because I’ve made it a habit to bore you with my information dumps.”

I shook my head adamantly, reaching a hand up and ruffling up his hair. He batted my hand away, ducking his head to try and hide the smile tugging at his lips.

“Never a bore, Spence. But yes, I know those things because of you and that remarkable brain of yours. And we’re going to need that remarkable brain in tip top shape if we want to get you out of this mess, understood?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he relented.

I patted a hand on my lap, an invitation for him to use me as a pillow. He seemed hesitant, eyes flitting from my face before going back down to my lap.

“Don’t act shy around me, Pretty Boy. I know better than anyone that you’re a secret cuddle bug,” I teased, earning a snort from the man next to me.

“Am not,” he harrumphed, before deciding to take me up on my offer. He laid his head down on my lap before stretching his legs out across the expanse of the couch. My heart lurched pitifully when he nuzzled his head into my leg before letting out a loud sigh.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, voice thick with emotion. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, casting tiny shadows on his face. I smiled at the sight and began carding my hands through his hair.

“No need to thank me,” I murmured, raking my nails against his scalp and eliciting a pleased hum from him. “Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? We’re going to get you out of this. I know we will. And don’t worry about your mom, either; I’m going to check on your mom every day, I promise.”

Spencer’s breathing stuttered at the mention of Diana, and I worried I had crossed a line. He stayed silent for a moment, before moving his hand up and squeezing my knee.

“You’re entirely too good to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’d do the same for me. That’s what friends are for.”

No more words were exchanged, and within five minutes Spencer’s breathing evened out and he was asleep.

--

Several hours later, we were all filing out of the elevator and into the bullpen. I shivered slightly as the cool air hit my bare arms, but I tried not to show my discomfort. I’d shrugged off my sweater and offered it to Spencer the moment we stepped off the jet, draping it across his cuffed hands in an attempt to conceal them. Spencer had thanked me with a pitiful smile and I returned the sentiment, blinking several times to try and stifle the tears pooling in my eyes.

JJ was the first to greet him, with Stephen, Tara and Penelope following closely behind. I watched on for a moment before my attention was pulled elsewhere. Stephen’s phone had rung, prompting him to slip away from the group and retreat further down the hall. I furrowed my brow at this, taking advantage of my colleagues’ distraction as I wandered towards Stephen. I strained to hear his whispered words, but just as soon as I neared, he ended the call.

“What was that about?” I asked quietly. The look on his face told me that the news couldn’t be good, and I didn’t want to ruin the reunion going on just down the hall. They all deserved a few moments of relief.

Stephen let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his hair before speaking.

“I, uh, just got a call. Reid isn’t eligible for the bureau’s legal assistance.”

Stephen’s words sent a jolt of white-hot dread through me. “How is that even possible?”            “Spencer went without being briefed, and he wasn’t in Mexico on government business. They refuse to represent him.”

I let my wary eyes drift down the hall, towards the group of wonderful misfits that I had grown to think of as family;

Penelope, whose optimism never wavered, even in the face of the absolute worst that the world had to offer.

JJ, a devoted mother with a heart of gold and a fierceness that inspired me every single day.

Tara, one of the most intelligent and caring women I had ever had the privilege to know.

Rossi, a father figure to all with enough wisdom to create a legacy that would inspire generations of profilers to be.

Emily, a fearless leader whom I trusted with my life and would follow into battle without question.

Luke, a newcomer who took special care to comfort me when I was at my worst.

Spencer, a man too remarkable to even try to describe with words. A man that anyone of us would defend until our very last breath.

That undeniable truth gave birth to the tiny sliver of hope growing inside of me. Spencer Reid was innocent, and we are all hellbent on proving it.

I nodded once in affirmation, more to myself than to Stephen, before allowing myself to meet his gaze.

“We’re on our own.”

And if anyone could pull this off, it was this team. My team.

There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality.

           -Storm Constantine

[hannahcoursey]

Take a Sip Part 1

Author: Hannahc56

Word Count: 3,088

Request: Hi there, hi! Could you maybe do a fic where the reader accidentally gets roofied and Dean comes to the rescue? 

PART TWO.

----

The drive home was deadly. You could have cut the tension that filled the leather lined interior with a knife. You sat in the back, your arms crossed, tapping your foot anxiously against the floorboards. Sam sat passenger, which was usually your seat next to Dean, but since you were the furthest from being on his good side right about now, you settled for the back. 

The Impala shifted through the gears, revving high at the command of Dean’s lead foot. He was pissed. The radio was silent, the volume turned all the way down, you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. When you looked up in the rearview, you met the old Winchesters hard glare and immediately cast your eyes down, shifting over a little so that you were just out of his line of sight. When the three of you pulled up to the motel room, Dean’s door was open before he even had it in park. You sighed. Sam turned around and gave you a sullen look.

“He’s only mad because he cares,” He said, bracing you for the fight you were undoubtedly going to get into the second your foot crossed the threshold of the dingy room the three of you were sharing. 

You took a breath and shook your head. “Yeah well, I’d hate to see how he treats his enemies,” You flashed a sarcastic grin and Sam let out an unenthusiastic chuckle before you both exited the car. 

“I’m gonna go see if there’s a bar around, maybe blowing off some steam would do some good for us.” Sam mumbled as he turned on his heel and walked towards the front desk to ask around. You watched him as he walked off, silently wishing you could avoid the confrontation that was waiting behind the door in front of you. Let’s get this over with. You turned and walked up to the door, consciously trying to keep your hand steady as you turned the door knob, the thin plywood door creaking open. Dean paced back and forth in front of the bathroom door, between the two queen beds, neglecting to even look in your direction when you walked in. You slowly pushed the door shut behind you and tried to even your breathing, the anxiety already kicking in.

“Dean-” You began, but you stopped when his head shot up in your direction. If looks could kill.

“No, Y/N, just stop,” He said, his voice cold and void of emotion, “Whatever you’re going to say; don’t.” He finished. You licked your lips and tried to swallow, but your throat felt tight and closed. 

“No, Dean,” You began, trying to steady your voice, but you already felt hot tears pressing against the back of your eyes, “You’re mad at me, because I used myself as bait when you had a set of fangs inches from your neck,” You stepped closer to him and his eyes never left you, hard and unwavering. “You can be mad all you want, but you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing.” You pursed your lips, holding your ground. He stepped closer to you, staring down at you as he towered over you. 

“You are reckless,” He spit, his words venom, “And you’re blind to the things around you and it’s going to get you killed,” His voice rose as he continued, “I’m not going to stick around and watch you kill yourself!” He finished, his voice roaring in the close proximity. Tears welled in your eyes and you blinked them away, staring up at him as they spilled down your scratched cheek.

“Good!” You yelled back, equally as dominant as his words spoken to you, “Luckily for you, you won’t have to!” You finished, your face inches from his as your voice bounced off the barren walls of the empty motel room. The both of you stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, hot tears burning down your face, before you turned away and left, slamming the door behind you. 

The cool air of the late night felt refreshing against your damp cheeks as you used your sleeve to wipe the evidence of any tears off of your face and stormed into the dark. You glanced over your shoulder into the room Dean stood in. In the sliver of the curtain that was open, you could see him swiping the stuff off of the top of the table by the window in a fit of anger, followed by the muffled noises of the things smashing against the ground. You turned and looked straight again as a few leftover tears slipped between your lashes before you rubbed them away. You crossed your arms, protecting yourself from the cold and headed down the road. 

After about an hour of walking alongside the highway of the motel had been sitting on, you saw a shimmer of lights in the distance. As you got closer, the ambience of a frat bar filled your senses. Girls in cropped university wear and guys with their shirts off and weird greek letters painted on their chests spilled out into the parking lot as the thumping bass of their pop music filled your ears. You rolled your eyes. I hate frat boys.

As you approached the bar and walked in between the social groups of whatever college was close by, you kept your head down and pushed through the front doors. The atmosphere inside was worse than the parking lot; Crappy music blared from large speakers on a stage with a DJ, while kids who were obviously too young to be out drinking at a bar danced closely with friends and lovers, covered in a sheen of sweat. You hesitated, every inch of your being dreaded a place like this, college kids and DJ’s weren‘t really your scene. But what else did you have? You thought of Dean and the motel room you assumed he’d already destroyed out of the anger and frustration he had trouble controlling. You thought of his words and how much worse things could get if you two spent the night screaming your heads off at one another and your heart sank in your chest. Looks like this is gonna be my best bet for the night. You moved your way through the crowds of teenagers, pushing past them to seat yourself at the bar. The bartender rushed over to you, a young man who was obviously overwhelmed by the amount of people in the room he had to serve, and laid a napkin out. 

“I’ll be right with you,” He flashed a gorgeous but hurried smile at you, and before you could even nod a thank you in his direction he was already on the other end of the bar refilling drinks and taking tabs. To the right of you was a young couple, the girl perched on top of the frat guy's lap, swallowing his tongue. You cringed and turned the other direction where a few guys hung out, laughing loudly at something the one had said. You let out a deep breath and stared up at the television set in front of you. Football, of course, college football. The bartender quickly made his way back, took your order and hurried off again.

Through the drone of people talking and music blaring, all you could think about was Dean. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t anything close to that. But the past few months felt different with him. Your relationship wasn’t like the one you shared with Sam. On dozens of occasions, you felt eyes burning in the back of your head, only to see Dean’s green orbs staring at you as if he was trying to memorize the way you moved and the freckles on your cheeks, before he turned away. Your face would glow with the red heat his gaze on you left and you’d find yourself stuttering your next few sentences. He was so in-tune to you and everything you did. Without saying a word, he could tell when you were upset by the way your face twisted for a half second before you masked your anger behind a blank stare. He’d creep down the hall and peek his head in your door when he knew you were having a rough day. Sometimes he’d say nothing - He’d slip into your room and lay down beside you, wrapping you up in his arms while hot tears slipped down your cheeks after a bad hunt and he’d stay silent. But you were always alone when you woke up in the morning. You never knew how to take these gestures, the intimate moments the two of you shared that crossed your mind whenever he laughed or threw a sarcastic wink in your direction. The relationship you had with both of the brothers was the only thing you had going for you in your life - the thought of messing something up enough that they would no longer be a part of your everyday was terrifying enough to keep your feelings for the eldest brother at bay. It was getting to the point that hunts were becoming reckless, Dean was right about that. You’d step in when you weren’t supposed to, the deadly selflessness of the brother rubbing off on you. Dean would painstakingly offer himself up before anyone laid a hand on you and it was becoming an issue. 

As you let yourself drown your thoughts plagued by Dean, a hand reached past you and set down a fresh glass of bourbon directly in front of you. You turned, following the arm to the man it was attached to as he took a seat next to you. It was one of the guys that had previously been goofing off with each other next to you, smiling at you smuggly. 

“I heard your order,” He cocked his head to the side, “Can’t say I wasn’t surprised to hear a pretty girl like you was putting back bourbons,” He stuck his hand out, “I’m Ryan.” 

You sat there, taking in the way he spoke and observing his movements as he talked. You stuck out your hand slowly. “I’m-” You hesitated, “I-I’m Deanna” You sputtered. Redness rose to your cheeks as the embarrassment flushed through you. Deanna? Really? 

“Deanna, that’s a nice name,” He nodded and looked around the room, “You come here with anyone?” His eyes floated around another moment before they landed back on you. He looked nice enough, but the way he looked you up and down made your skin tingle with hesitancy. 

“Nope, I’m with me, myself and I,” You answered with a grin, taking the drink he’d given you and putting it to your lips, “And I plan on keeping it that way.” You finished and threw the drink back, guzzling the neat bourbon down in a few swallows. As you wiped your mouth, his hand slipped to your thigh. You froze for a moment before placing your hand on top of his and pushing it off. “I’m sorry, I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t play games like this,” You said, brushing the invisible fingerprints he left off of your upper thigh, “Go find some sorority girl, that seems a little more up your alley.” He hung his head for a second and laughed sarcastically.

“I knew you’d be a tough one, the way you walked right into a bar by yourself shows a lot of confidence, you know. I respect that in a woman.” He said, leaning in closer, his hand coming up to your face, “I like hard to get, it’s sexy.” He said low. Before he got any closer, you slapped him across the face, causing his friends behind you to make a noise of surprise. His sleazy demeanor changed to anger as he touched the side of his cheek.

“I said no, dickbag, leave me the hell alone.” You spat and turned to sit forward in your seat. He stood up and spun you in your barstool and leaned close, his arms on either side of you, hands leaning on the bar as he looked down.

“When I said I knew you’d be a tough one, I meant I knew that this could go one of two ways,” He said, his eyes dark. As he spoke, your legs began to feel wobbly and your eyes felt fuzzy. You could no longer make out the slight red on his cheek from where your hand had made contact before and the pattern of his shirt blended colors. “It could go the easy way or the hard way,” He said, leaning closer, his face brushing against your cheek, his lips right at your ear, “Which is why I put enough roofies in there to knock out a horse.” He finished, pulling back with a grin that stretched from ear to ear plastered on his face. The bourbon. 

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach and you pushed him away from you, his friends laughing and taunting again behind him. Fucking college kids. You stood up and the world seemed to spin faster. Balancing yourself off of the wooden bar, you took a few steps, looking in the direction of the door. Before you could get any further, you felt hands pick you up and throw you over their shoulder. All you could see were the blended colors in the pattern of Ryan’s shirt. Your heart beat so fast in your chest, it felt like it was going to burst. You curled your fists up into balls and with every fiber you had, pounded against his back. But it was no use. Your fists unraveled and died with the words on your tongue. You heard him talking to his friends about taking you home safe and tried desperately to answer, to fight, but your eyes fluttered heavily and your tongue felt like cement. Suddenly, you somehow slipped from his grasp and crashed hard onto the sticky bar floor, the moisture a mix of spilled beer and overpoured shots saturating your face. You heard loud, deep voices and fists pounding onto skin. Large hands made their way to your shoulders, pulling you on your back and moving to rest on your face. You tried so hard to fight it, your arms flailing in every direction as the man tried to force them at your sides. You fought monsters, vampires, demons, anything this messed up world spit at you and out of all of them, the thing that gets the best of you is an idiot with drugs. But when you opened your eyes, it wasn’t the dark eyes and smirk of the guy with the roofies, but warm green orbs and freckles. Dean. Tears slipped down the sides of your cheeks as he wiped them away with his thumb. You opened your mouth to talk, but could hardly manage a few strangled whimpers. His eyes searched yours for answers, desperately trying to help you, to reach you as he leaned down closer. Swallowing hard, you licked your lips. 

“R-Roofies,” You managed to hardly cough out in a whisper. When Dean pulled his head away, his eyes were filled with fury, his mind changing paces, searching for the guy who’d done this. Mustering all the energy you could, you reached up and touched his cheek. His eyes returned to their worried but warm state when you made contact, his anger dissipating.

“I’ll get you home sweetheart, okay?” He said, nodding at you, but you couldn’t nodd back, you could only blink heavily. His hands slipped under you and he pulled you up, close to his chest. Your heart pounded hard in your chest, anxiety bubbling in you even in his arms. As he walked out of the bar, the cold air of the outside hit you and the comforting sound of the rumbling Impala filling your senses. You heard the sound of the door opening and closing before Sam’s grumbling voice came closer.

“What the hell happened man? What-” He started before Dean cut him off.

“Roofies, some asshole friggin’ slipped her something Sammy, open the back.” Dean said, his voice tight, his anger apparent even with your eyes half shut. Dean laid you down in the backseat of the Impala, before pulling away, his hands leaving you. You reached up, pure anxiety filling your blood as you grabbed his hands frantically. He looked at you, his eyes searching yours.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna be back, alright?” He said, but you shook your head, inaudible whimpers leaving your lips. 

“D-Dean,” You answered, panicked, reaching for the collar of his shirt. Your vision was coming and going in waves, your anxiety being the only thing that kept you conscious. Dean hesitated, looking down at you. His hands wrapped over top of yours that had a death grip on the collar of his jacket, his knuckles bloodied.

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere,” He sighed, letting out a breath. Climbing in with you, he shut the door, Sam climbing in the driver's seat. The blackness taunted at the edges of your vision causing you to panic, still gripping onto Dean’s jacket. He put his hands over yours once more and coaxed you to lay in his lap, looking down at you. “Just shut your eyes Y/N/N, okay?” He said, holding your hands tightly. You shook your head quickly, fighting the dark pull of unconsciousness. “Y/N, I’m right here baby,” He caressed the top of your head, lulling you to sleep off whatever was in your system, “I’m not going anywhere, I promise you’re safe now, I have you,” He leaned down and lightly brushed his lips to the top of your head, your breathing slowing gently, “I got you, you’re safe,” He whispered into your hair, “You got me and Sammy, no one’s gonna lay a hand on you, okay? Just shut your eyes for a little,” He continued to talk you down, as your eyes fluttered despite your protests, slowly slipping under. Had you’d been awake, you would’ve seen the way Sam’s eyes become glossy at the sight of you, at the way his big brother talked to you, like you were the only person in the world. You would’ve seen Dean blinking away the water that coated his eyes as he watched you silently panicking in waves, watching you suffer. Before you could protest any longer, you slipped into a deep sleep, safe in the back of the Impala, cradled in Dean’s arms.

----- 

[nicknellie]

@sunset-reggie requested: A fic based off Reggie getting electrocuted that was mentioned in Snap.

Physics is my joint worst subject at school so for the purposes of this I might have made up my own rules for electricity? Maybe, I don’t really know. The issue was that in the US the mains voltage is 120V which won’t really do a lot (here in England it’s 230V but again you’ll probably be fine) so I made some shit up and I’m pretending I know what I’m talking about. I did research taking care of electric shock patients but sorry for anything that’s wrong. Still, thank you for the prompt, it was a lot of fun!!

Zap

Some nights, Reggie Peters would sleep like a log. The moment his head hit the pillow, he would be out cold, not waking up the whole night through and feeling happy and refreshed in the morning. Those good nights usually followed good days – days spent jamming in the studio with the band, days helping out at the rescue shelter and playing with his favourite animals, days he would hang out with his friends and laugh until their sides hurt and they couldn’t breathe. After a good day, the night was peaceful.

This was not one of those nights.

It hadn’t been a good day. In fact, it had been a decidedly bad day. When Reggie had woken up that morning, it hadn’t been to the sound of his alarm but to the echo of shouting from downstairs. He had guessed immediately that it was his parents fighting yet again – sighing haggardly, he had pulled a pillow over his face and pressed it hard against his ears, trying to block out the noise, but to no avail. Well and truly awake, he had grudgingly got out of bed and started his day.

School had been dreadful. In biology, the teacher had surprised them with a test. Reggie was a naturally high achiever, good in biology as he was in all his subjects, but that day luck wasn’t on his side. He hadn’t done any revision and his head was swimming with addled thoughts, cluttered and unfocused, and he could not for the life of him remember the different stages of meiosis. Throughout the whole test he had sat there, scratching his head, trying to remember that one little detail that was on the tip of his tongue, but before he knew it time had run out and he had only answered three questions. It had stuck him in that bad mood for the rest of the day.

He had thought that band practise would cheer him up like it usually did. For a while, he was right. In the Molinas garage, plucking the strings of his bass, Reggie felt his dark mood brighten. Perhaps the start of the day hadn’t been one for the history books, but he could salvage it by relaxing and playing his music with his wonderful friends.

“Let’s take it from the second verse,” Julie declared halfway through their run-through of Stand Tall, scribbling a note to herself on the bottom of her sheet music. “Reggie, can you up your bass a bit? I can’t hear it but your line is really great here and I think we should showcase it a little.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Reggie said, saluting. He fiddled with his amp for a moment (twisting the dial harder when it got stuck) to up the volume and struck a long, low note. Julie nodded, satisfied, and they picked the song up again.

It didn’t take long for things to start going downhill. At first, Reggie thought he was imagining the smell of smoke; after all, candles had been banned from the studio long ago after an incident with Luke and one of Alex’s favourite hoodies, so there shouldn’t have been anything burning. But after a moment, Julie’s face scrunched up in disgust and her singing dropped away as she glanced around the studio.

“Luke,” she said, reproachfully. He shot her an innocent look. “Did you bring in another scented candle? Even after what happened last time?”

“I never did get that replacement hoodie,” Alex grumbled.

Luke shook his head, sniffing the air like a dog. “It’s not me! I don’t know where that’s coming from.”

“It has to be something,” Reggie said, looking around. It smelled almost overwhelmingly strong near him – the others, whether they realised they were doing it or not, were all heading in his direction, sniffing the air for the source of the smell.

It was Alex who noticed.

“Reg, you’re smoking!”

Reggie shrugged. “I know I was kinda killing it, so thanks, but I think we have more important things to worry about right now.”

“No, no,” Julie said, eyes wide, pointing to Reggie. “Reggie, you’re smoking! You’re on fire!”

“Okay, I get it, thank you both, but we should focus on–”

“Reggie,” Luke all but yelled, “you are smoking! As in, there is smoke coming from you. Dude, do something!”

Reggie looked down at himself, immediately swatting at his clothes. It was weird – he didn’t feel like he was engulfed in flames. In fact, it didn’t look like he was either. Reggie was decidedly not on fire. But his bandmates had been correct about the smoke; it was rising around them, looping through the air and collating in a thick black cloud right above their heads.

It was then that Reggie had a horrible thought. If the smoke was coming from behind him, then it might have looked to his friends as if he were the one on fire. Slowly, dreading what he might see, he turned around and was met with a catastrophe.

It was his amp, sparking through the speakers, harsh smoke swirling into the air from its every crevice, cutting void-like black lines across the studio up to the ceiling.

“Not me,” he said, stricken, “it’s my amp. My brand-new amp. It’s broken.”

“What happened to it?” Julie asked, edging slightly closer. She placed a gentle hand on Reggie’s upper arm but he remained stiff. He barely even registered the touch.

“How can it have broken so fast?” Luke added, leaning probably too close and inspecting the amp. He jumped back and ducked behind Julie with a little yelp when a spark leapt at him. “You just got it two weeks ago.”

Alex pushed to the front, wafted his hand back and forth to clear the smoke, and squinted at the amp. For a moment there was an anticipatory silence, and then Alex said, “Ah. I see.”

“What?” Reggie prompted. “What went wrong?”

“What went wrong?” Alex echoed, straightening up and raising a condescending eyebrow. “I don’t know, Reg, maybe it was the fact that you tried to turn it up to a volume that doesn’t exist.”

Baffled, Reggie took Alex’s position, waving the smoke out of the way. He had been careful when Julie asked him to turn the volume up, he could have sworn that he hadn’t cranked it up any higher than ten. But lo and behold, the volume dial was twisted further than its highest volume, almost back at one.

“How did that happen?” Reggie wondered aloud. “All I did was turn it up, then it got kind of stiff, so I turned it harder and– oh.”

“I think when it went stiff it was because it wasn’t supposed to turn any more than it had,” Julie said quietly. She tugged Reggie away from the amp as a spark flew uncomfortably close to his face.

“Would that really do so much damage?” Luke asked sceptically, eyes narrowed.

Alex shrugged. “Looks like it.” He put a consoling hand on Reggie’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay, Reg. With the money we make from our next gig we can get you a new one, right?”

Reggie sighed heavily. After the nightmarish day he’d had, with this as the icing on the cake, he felt as if he’d had his very heart ripped from his chest. There was a weight there, a hefty, immovable boulder settled right where his heart should have been. He shrugged Alex’s and Julie’s hands from his arms, fed up and tired.

“I guess,” he mumbled, “but unless I’ve got an amp I can’t play that gig anyway, so you’ll be without a bassist.”

“I’m sure it’s fixable,” Julie reasoned, forced hope in her voice. They watched the amp cough out another jet of black smoke. Julie’s smile faltered. “Like, eighty percent sure.”

Alex checked the time and then patted Reggie on the shoulder. “It’s late anyway, we should stop now, get home. I’m sure we can get it fixed before our next rehearsal, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, and Reggie,” Luke added, swinging an arm around his shoulders, “don’t feel too bad, okay? If worse comes to worst we can just borrow an amp at the venue. It might not be as good as yours but it’ll be something.”

Reggie nodded. “Sure,” he said, “thanks.”

He checked the time for himself as the other three began to move about the studio, packing up their bits and pieces. It was almost ten o’clock – he hadn’t realised they’d been going on so long. He was exhausted, his limbs heavy with emotion and his head swimming with nothing much at all. No part of him thought he’d be able to walk himself home and on a day like this he didn’t want to take his chances in a car being driven by Luke.

“Hey Julie,” he said, tapping her on the shoulder. She smiled up at him as she put her microphone stand away. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course,” she said as if it should have been obvious. “I’ll make up the couch inside–”

He shook his head. He wanted to stay in the studio – that was where the most comfort was. “No, no, in here is fine. Thank you, Julie.”

“Any time,” she said, beaming.

Not long later, Reggie and Julie said their goodbyes to Alex and Luke, who clambered into Luke’s beat-up car and sped away, over the speed limit by an amount that made Reggie’s head spin. Reggie waited in the studio while Julie went to get some pillows and blankets for him, his mind turning with thoughts of his parents and his bad school day and his amp that was still smoking in the corner of the studio.

Hence, tonight was not a good night for Reggie.

Eventually, Julie came back down, helped him make up the couch, and then they said their goodnights. When she left, Reggie shucked off his jacket and his jeans, then burrowed himself into the covers, clamping his eyes tight shut in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to catch sleep by surprise.

It didn’t work. He lay there for what felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, tossing and turning, switching which end of the couch his head was at, sticking various limbs out from under the blanket, trying to find some magic position that would get him to sleep. But nothing worked, and eventually he gave up.

The smell of smoke was enough to drive him insane. He didn’t want to have to wait to get the amp fixed – he wanted it fixed now, he wished it had never broken in the first place. Or rather, he wished he’d never broken it. He could have kicked himself; in hindsight, it was obvious that when the dial stopped moving the volume couldn’t be altered anymore – Reggie cursed himself for forcing it.

A thought struck him then. A crazy, stupid, reckless thought that Alex, if he were there, would have immediately forbidden. But Reggie thought that if it was his mistake then he should be the one to fix it, and the amp was right there, and he couldn’t sleep anyway, so he might as well…

He swung himself out from under the covers, flicked the studio light on and made his way over to the amp. It was still emitting a steady stream of smoke, sparks flying now and then. He inspected it a little more closely, yanking off the front to see the mechanics inside. He could see where the damage was and some cocky part of his brain decided that he could definitely fix it.

Lost in his thoughts, he was brought back to Earth by the grounding sound of rain falling on the flat roof of the studio. It was soothing and soft – Reggie had always liked rain, always found it calming. He wanted nothing more than to be outside right then, soaked to the skin, relaxed and carefree.

So his crazy, stupid, reckless thought developed and before he knew it Reggie was wheeling the amp from the safety of the studio to the wet and windy outside.

It was freezing and he regretted not bringing his jacket from the studio, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back inside now. The rain had him drenched within seconds, the amp too, and Reggie finally felt some of the tension in his muscles drain away.

He began to work.

Now, Reggie wasn’t to know that the amp was still plugged into the mains back in the studio. And he wasn’t to know that a power station half a mile away had just malfunctioned, letting a surge of electricity course through its wires, overwhelming every system and sending far too much electricity to every house in the nearby area. And he wasn’t to know that if he hadn’t been touching the amp then he would likely have been absolutely fine.

But the power surged through the mains, through the studio, through the amp, was worsened by the rain, and reached Reggie as he clutched the wires.

Zap.

Reggie was flung back with the force of the current, landing in a heap in the studio, finally asleep (if not in the way he’d intended to be).

*

He woke up. That was a good sign. His head was spinning as he tried to ease himself into a sitting position, raising a hand to his throbbing temple, but something pushed him back down. Reggie peeled his eyes open, but blinked at the harsh, too bright light and closed them again.

“Dad,” came Julie’s voice from somewhere above him, “he’s woken up!”

“That’s good,” called Ray’s voice from somewhere indeterminable, “is he okay? I’m still on the phone with the doctor.”

Reggie tried again to open his eyes and managed it, just barely. He was back on the couch in the studio, the lights were on but it was still pitch-black outside. He had been tucked into the blanket so tightly that he could hardly move, and perched on the edge of the sofa, clutching his hand like she was superglued to him, was Julie.

“Reggie,” she said gently, reaching out and brushing a lock of his dark hair away from his forehead. Her fingers were cool against his skin, soothing his headache that little bit. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell,” he croaked. Just those two words felt like they were ripping his vocal chords out. He cleared his throat a little as Julie sent him a sympathetic, sad smile.

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked.

Reggie thought for a moment but found that it hurt his head to do so. He shrugged, then said, “I wanted to try and fix my amp so I took it outside and then… I don’t know.”

Julie gave him an exasperated smile. “In the pouring rain? Did no one ever tell you that water and electricity don’t mix?”

“Well, I know that now,” he grumbled.

“If it’s any consolation, you probably wouldn’t have been too hurt if the power station hadn’t gone wrong at the same time. The current was way bigger than it should have been – my dad’s talking to the doctors right now to see if we should take you to the hospital.”

“How long was I unconscious?” Reggie asked her, closing his eyes again.

“Well, when the power surge happened, I saw this massive flash outside my window and heard what sounded a lot like a teenage boy being thrown off his feet across a garage,” she told him matter-of-factly. “So, I came down to check on you and you were unconscious, so I got dad. But the whole thing hasn’t been more than twenty minutes. Does your head hurt?”

Reggie nodded, then winced. The movement ached.

Julie frowned. “That doesn’t seem like a good sign.”

At that moment, Reggie heard Ray say to the phone, “Okay, thank you very much for your help.” A moment later, he was crouched down beside Reggie, his kind face streaked with worry.

“You doing okay, kiddo?” he asked quietly.

Reggie sighed. “No. Everything hurts. Do I need to go to the hospital?”

“Well,” Ray began, “I just spoke to a very lovely doctor. She said that seeing as you weren’t in contact with the source for too long, and luckily the mishap with the power station wasn’t too bad, your situation could be a lot worse than it is. But we do have to keep an eye on you because it was an alternating current, which is more dangerous than direct.”

Reggie shuffled a little bit, trying to pull his blanket tighter around him for comfort. He felt Julie place a hand on his chest comfortingly, and he would have smiled if smiling didn’t hurt so much.

“Oh, and she gave me a list of things to ask you about,” Ray said, fishing a scrap of paper out of his pocket. “I wrote it down here, see. Loss of consciousness – obviously. Muscle spasms?”

Reggie should his head and Ray gave him an encouraging smile.

“That’s good,” he continued. “Any numbness or tingling anywhere? Or any breathing problems, or a headache?”

Reggie paid attention to his body for a minute. His legs felt numb, like they wouldn’t support him if he tried to stand up. And he had what was probably the worst headache of his entire life. But his breathing seemed fine to him. He reported his findings back to Ray, who made a few checks on his list.

“Problems with vision or hearing?”

“No,” Reggie said, “none.”

“Good. We checked you for burns and luckily there’s none. Seizures, well, we’ll have to keep an eye on you. Irregular heartbeat – Julie?”

It was only then that Reggie realised that Julie’s hand placed on his chest had been to check his heart. Slowly, he moved his hand out from under the blanket and covered Julie’s with it, wanting to keep the comfort close, stop her from leaving him. She smiled down at him gently, and put her other hand over his too.

“His heartbeat’s fine,” she said. “Normal speed, regular.”

Ray nodded, making a final check. “Excellent, excellent. Okay, Reggie, I’m going to call your parents, let them know what’s happened. It’s not a good idea to move you around too much; do you mind staying here for a few days?”

The thought almost made Reggie smile. The studio (and the rest of the Molinas’ house) was like a second home to him – he felt comfortable and at-home there like nowhere else. He had countless memories surrounding him, a thousand things to keep him preoccupied, even if that was just being lost in his own head.

“That’s fine by me,” Reggie said, trying to smile.

Ray beamed, then gently tousled Reggie’s hair as he stood up. “Good. Great. Okay, I’m going to make a call to your parents, you just let me know if you need anything. Night, Reggie.”

“Goodnight, Ray,” Reggie called after him as he left the studio. “Thank you.”

As Ray closed the door behind him, Julie stood up and made her way to the back of the studio where they kept all their equipment when they weren’t using it for rehearsal. Reggie watched in fascination as Julie dug around for a moment and then pulled out a TV on a wheeled stand, incredibly old and outdated. She blew a thick layer of dust off it then coughed when it flew right back in her face.

“When Carlos and I were little,” she began, tugging the stand closer to Reggie, “my mom used to watch old tapes on this with us. Mainly it was old home videos, or sometimes the tape of her and dad’s wedding, but we should still have some actual movies somewhere. I’ll find the DVD player and set it up, we can watch something together.”

Reggie was a little confused. “You’re not going up to bed?”

Julie looked offended at the suggestion. Reggie shrank back a bit from her glare. “Of course not! I’m staying down here with you for as long as you need me. I don’t want to leave you alone, Reggie, especially not when you’re like this.”

She rummaged about in the back of the studio for a little while longer. Reggie watched her collect an ancient DVD player and a stack of DVD cases, sorting through them and selecting a few. He knew he wasn’t alone in loving Julie – after all, she was an angel on Earth and it was hard not to love her – but right that moment he felt he couldn’t have treasured his sister any more. Just the fact that she was willing to forgo sleep to make sure he was safe meant more than he could describe. The moment she had finished setting up the DVD player and had put on Kung Fu Panda (knowing it was one of Reggie’s all-time favourites), she came to sit in front of the couch on the floor, and Reggie looped his arms around her neck in a weak hug. She held his hand tightly as the movie’s opening scene began to play.

*

Julie was truly a blessing. She stayed with him all night, not getting a wink of sleep herself because she wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to Reggie while he slept, and the next day she took turns with Ray and Carlos to keep an eye on him, waiting on his every beck and call. Reggie felt bad asking them for things so tried to do it as little as possible, only occasionally asking for a glass of water or another painkiller. But Julie, being Julie, seemed to know exactly what he didn’t want to ask for at all times and was more than happy to fetch anything.

Eventually, she had needed a break. Not by her own choice, but by Reggie’s.

“You’ve done so much,” he said at about midday, just as Julie came in to take over from Carlos again. “I’ll be fine by myself for a little, it’s not like anything that bad can happen.”

She shook her head. “You heard what my dad said. Something bad could happen, so someone needs to make sure you’re alright.”

“It doesn’t need to be you,” Reggie reasoned. “No offence, but you look worse than me right now. And you’re not the one who was electrocuted twelve hours ago.”

It was true – Julie didn’t function well on a lack of sleep, her eyes were heavy and she was teetering from side to side slightly as if she was going to fall over. She rolled her eyes at him but couldn’t deny what he’d said. She pulled her phone from her pocket with a sigh.

“Fine,” she said grudgingly. “Dad’s just taking Carlos to Little League, so it can’t be one of them. I’ll call Alex. Hopefully, he’ll be able to get here soon.”

Reggie listened to the one-sided conversation as Julie spoke to Alex. She sighed with relief, thanked him, and then said to Reggie, “He says he’ll be here in ten minutes. Do you need anything until then?”

Reggie thought for a moment, then let a grin split his face apart. “Can you sing for me?”

Julie huffed a laugh. “Really? That’s all you want?”

“Yes please,” Reggie returned, shuffling over to look at her, giving her his full attention. “Can you sing something by Johnny Cash?”

“Of course,” she replied with an easy smile. Reggie was privately proud of himself – he was the only reason Julie knew any of Johnny Cash’s country classics. She picked up Luke’s acoustic guitar (which he had forgotten to take back to his house the last fifteen times he’d been at the studio) and struck the first chord. “Love is a burning thing…”

Ten minutes later (or three performances of Ring of Fire, because it was the only Johnny Cash song that Julie knew the whole way through) Alex shouldered the door to the studio open, letting in a blast of cold air but also a delightful smell that Reggie would recognise anywhere. It was the aroma of Alex’s famous triple chocolate cookies, the kind he only made for special occasions like birthdays; it seemed that electrocution counted as a special occasion too.

He let the door fall shut behind him, shook his shaggy hair out of his eyes, and held a large Tupperware container aloft triumphantly.

“I brought cookies,” he announced.

He sat himself down at the end of the couch by Reggie’s feet and opened up the box. The already gorgeous smell doubled and Reggie groaned hungrily. Alex smiled, holding the box out towards him – Reggie took three cookies and tried to shove them all into his mouth at once.

“Alex,” he said around a mouthful of chocolate. “Have I ever told you that you’re the best cook I know?”

“Every time I make you food,” Alex replied. He extended the container to Julie who took one cookie, a lot less greedily than Reggie.

“Well, he’s right,” Julie said, beaming. “This smells amazing, Alex.”

“Tastes it, too,” Reggie added, licking the crumbs off his fingers.

Julie laughed, but then poorly stifled a yawn. Reggie ordered her to bed again, and with a tired little wave she left the studio. Settling down further on the sofa, Alex took one of his own cookies.

“I hope you weren’t doing anything important,” Reggie said, poking Alex’s side with his feet.

Alex shrugged and looked away, suddenly so interested in the studio’s ceiling that it was suspicious.

“What?” Reggie prompted, narrowing his eyes. “What were you doing?”

Alex seemed to be trying his hardest to act casual but wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Avoiding eye contact, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, Alex said, “I was hanging with Willie, actually. But this is more important.”

Reggie felt his mouth fall open. He smacked Alex’s arm. “Dude,” he exclaimed. “That is way more important than me!”

“My love life is more important than your near-death experience,” he deadpanned, frowning disbelievingly.

“Yes!”

“No.”

“Come on, man,” Reggie said, prodding him with his feet again. He still couldn’t feel his legs so he wasn’t sure that his way of getting Alex to talk by nudging him was really working, but judging by the way Alex shifted away from him he was doing a good job. “Tell me everything!”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Alex said, raising his hands in something like surrender. But when he lowered them again, he shrugged and said much quieter, “He kissed me, though.”

“Nothing to tell?!” Reggie almost yelled. “Dude!”

Alex had a dopey smile on his face, a blush creeping across his cheeks. He ducked his head abashedly, his smile growing. “Okay, maybe there’s a little to tell.”

Reggie was about to press him a little more, get him to open up about what he’d been up to with Willie (the two of them had only made it official a week or so ago and Reggie would be lying if he said he wasn’t extremely invested in their relationship – Alex deserved someone who made him truly happy and Willie seemed to do exactly that) but all of a sudden he felt his abdomen contract and shake painfully. He doubled over, clutching at his stomach as the muscles squeezed, rapidly relaxing and pulling taut again.

Alex stood up abruptly. “Reg? What’s happening, what do you need?”

Reggie couldn’t answer. The pain had stopped (it had been brief yet sharp) but he was out of breath, breathing hard and fast. He shook his head, dreading another burst of pain, and tried to get a hold of himself.

Alex crouched down beside him and grabbed his hand. “Reggie, listen to me, alright? I’m going to try and get your breathing back to normal, okay? Breathe with me – in for four. One, two, three, four. Out for six. One, two, three, four, five, six. Great job, let’s go again, buddy.”

Reggie breathed in tandem with Alex, feeling grateful that he had such an amazing friend by his side. Alex didn’t let go of his hand once, getting his breathing back to something steady and safe. When he finally felt relaxed again, Reggie opened his eyes (he hadn’t realised how tightly he’d had them scrunched up and they watered when he opened them) and smiled smally at Alex.

“Thank you,” he said, “I’m okay.”

“What was that?” Alex asked, sitting back a little.

“Ray said something about muscle spasms,” Reggie explained, thinking back to the list Ray had mentioned before. “I guess that was one. It felt like someone was trying to shove my organs into a tin can.”

Alex nodded, though his expression said he had no idea what Reggie was talking about. “Okay. Was that the first time it’s happened?”

“Yeah. Hopefully, the only time it happens too.”

“You need anything?”

Reggie’s throat felt dry. He could feel it like sandpaper every time he swallowed. “Could you get me a glass of water, please?”

“You got it,” Alex said, hopping up. “I won’t be long. Have another cookie, you deserve one.”

Reggie took another cookie and silently thanked Alex for being so helpful. Alex had always been the most collected and resourceful of the group, so Reggie was glad it had been him there for this scary new side effect.

When Alex got back Reggie thanked him out loud, but he waved it away, saying it was what he had to do, no biggie. Reggie sat himself up and swung himself around, leaning against Alex and hugging him tightly. Alex rolled his eyes, but Reggie didn’t miss the way he smiled and hugged him back.

*

That evening, Luke arrived unannounced. He was in a complete and utter panic – it seemed that in all the chaos, nobody had actually told him about Reggie’s accident. When nobody had shown up to the busking session they’d planned down by the pier he had called Julie to find out what was going on and then made a mad dash to her house.

“I’ll take it from here, Alex,” Luke declared, marching into the studio, yanking Alex from his seat and shoving him out the door, shutting it behind him. Through the small window, Reggie could see Alex looking through, utterly bewildered. When Luke locked the door, Alex shrugged defeatedly, waved goodbye to Reggie, and left.

“Buddy,” Luke said to Reggie, sitting on the edge of the couch. “Reggie, dude. Bro. What happened to you, man?”

“Got electrocuted,” Reggie returned simply.

Luke rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, I know that now. Julie told me. Eventually. Did you at least manage to fix your amp?”

Reggie sighed. Luke’s arrival had brightened his mood, but the mention of the accident and his amp had kind of ruined it. “No. Julie and Ray checked earlier but I think I made it worse. It’s beyond help.”

“That’s great!” Luke exclaimed. Reggie furrowed his brows, confused.

“No,” he said, “it’s not.”

Luke shook his head. “No, it’s fine. After I called Julie and she told me what happened, I mentioned it to my parents. And they immediately went online and ordered a new one, an even better model than the one you broke!”

“What?” Reggie said incredulously. “For real?”

“For real!”

“But they hate the band,” Reggie countered. It didn’t make any sense – the amount of times Emily and Mitch had explained to Luke and the others that they didn’t think the band was worth it didn’t exactly line up with this act of generosity.

Luke shrugged. “I know. But they felt bad, and they didn’t want us to spend all our money on getting a new one for you. Bro, you’re going to sound out of this world!”

Luke raved on and on about the new amp. Reggie made a mental note to give Emily and Mitch the biggest thank you and the tightest hug the next time he saw them. The amp he had broken hadn’t been cheap and he hated to think how much they were spending to get him an even better model.

But eventually, there was something else on his mind.

“Reggie,” Luke said, cutting off his own rant about a new song he was working on. “You okay? You look weird.”

Reggie grimaced. “I have to pee.”

“There’s a bathroom right over there,” Luke said with a shrug, pointing to the little door on the other side of the studio. Reggie just frowned deeper. Luke’s face fell as some sort of realisation dawned on him. “Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.”

Reggie said it anyway: “I think you might have to take me.”

Luke groaned and fell back, covering his face with his hands. “Dude. Why?”

“I still can’t feel my legs,” Reggie explained, slightly desperately. If he didn’t get to a toilet soon he was sure there’d be an accident – and Luke would have to be the one to clear that up too, something Reggie was sure he wouldn’t like the sound of. “I’m not going to be able to walk without support!”

“What if you rolled across the floor instead?” Luke suggested.

“But then how would I get up to pee?”

Luke took a deep breath, steeling himself, then nodded and stood up. He swung his arms back and forth by his side then said resolutely, “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Reggie threw an arm around Luke’s shoulders, swung his dead legs off the couch and let Luke pull him to his feet. He couldn’t feel where his feet touched the ground and was letting Luke do practically everything movement-wise. Unsteadily, Reggie dug his fingers into the thin fabric of Luke’s shirt.

They entered the bathroom and Luke grimaced. “How do you want to do this?”

“Titanic-style,” Reggie decided.

Luke gave him a flat look. “What?”

“Like that scene in the Titanic,” Reggie explained. “You know, when Jack and Rose are on the bow of the ship and Jack holds her waist and she throws her arms out and–”

“How is this at all similar to me helping you pee?” Luke interrupted.

“You’ve gotta hold my waist and make sure I stay stood up,” Reggie said. Luke nodded and positioned himself behind Reggie as he did what he needed to do.

When he was done, Luke helped him limp to the sink to wash his hands, again clutching his waist to stop him from crumpling to the ground, and then they hobbled back to the couch in the main studio. Luke gently laid Reggie down and tucked him back under the blanket.

“I hope you never electrocute yourself again,” Luke said distastefully. “I don’t want to do that a second time.”

Reggie raised an eyebrow. “That’s the only reason you never want me to electrocute myself again?”

Luke shrugged. “Of course, bro. And, you know, the fact that you’re in horrible pain.”

Reggie laughed. It was the first time he had done that properly since he’d been shocked. It made sense – if anyone could tease a laugh from him then it had to be Luke. He raised his hand for a fist-bump and Luke indulged him with that tiny teasing smile.

*

Two weeks later, Reggie was back on his feet, everything back to normal. He had never counted himself so lucky to have such wonderful friends. Julie, who put him miles before herself; Alex, who had ditched all his other responsibilities and helped Reggie when it mattered most; and Luke, who had proved that he really would do anything for Reggie.

Perhaps the whole situation had been born out of a bad day, but Reggie had his friends there to remind him that things would always be okay in the end.

[sunflowerim]

I LOVE YOU 3000!

-PART 48

After Harry, Niall and Taylor arrived at LAX, they stopped for a little to take pictures with the excited fans who'd spotted them on the airport. The management had arranged for their transport to the hotel and soon enough, they were fetched by cars sent by their teams.

Louis arrived a few hours later, with Zayn and Liam. He was among the set of hosts for the red carpet of Academy Awards as was Niall, Zayn had an invitation from both Harry and Taylor's teams, having designed both their outfits for the evening and the movie for which Liam was the music producer was nominated. They were greeted by enthusiastic fans too but managed to get out of the airport quickly.

And thankfully for everyone, Harry and Louis were staying at different places.

93rd Academy Awards

Situated at the heart of Hollywood, the red carpet is a very intricate program. The 500 feet long red carpet was adorned with artists, photographers and interviewers. Bleachers had been set up on one side of it which contained hundreds of enthusiastic fans who'd come across from different countries to have a glimpse of the glam event.

Stepping out of the limousine with Taylor, Harry tried ro calm his frantic heartbeats. It would be unwise to lose his cool in front of hundred cameras and so many highly esteemed artists and a certain someone.

He was clad in a striped red and dark blue suit and beside him, Taylor in a gorgeous body con dress. Zayn knew perfectly well what would suit the two of them. Harry nervously ran his fingers through his hair, which had grown out a bit and curled beautifully at the ends.

Numerous flashes went off as they made their way across together and the fans cheered and waved. Soon they were led to separate section which was roped off from the entrance ; the nominees were to be interviewed before they entered the building. Harry's heart skipped a beat as the air carried a voice with heavy northern accent, a voice he knew so well. Taylor had heard it too and to his utter horror, started leading them towards the voice. As they made their way through the crowd of people, he spotted Louis, having an animated conversation with Robert Downey Jr. He'd been nominated for his movie Dolittle. Louis looked so happy that Harry stopped dead in his tracks. He was seeing Louis laugh after a long time and he certainly didn't want to go stand in front of him and wipe it away.

Much to his reluctance, Taylor held his arm and walked over to Louis. Louis smiled heartily at Taylor and as soon as he spotted Harry beside her, his smile vanished, just as Harry had feared. Little did Harry know, that it took everything in Louis' power to hold his ground and not stupidly smile at Harry. Louis had been wondering for the past few days if he had indeed been hard on Harry and whether or not it was just a misunderstanding, but seeing him with Taylor again, sort of brought him back to square one.

"Hi," Taylor beamed.

"Hey Taylor, good to see you," Louis replied, looking around, possibly for Roman or somebody else to rescue him.

"Looking good," Taylor said with a smirk.

"Haha thanks," Louis blushed, "you look gorgeous."

"Thank you Louis. Are we on camera yet?"

"No, just one moment, someone will be here."

Louis was obviously confused at Taylor and Harry being in front of him. Had the list been changed? Why didn't anyone tell him? And WHAT are the odds of him getting the interview he dreaded.

In a few seconds a cameraman arrived and just when Louis was supposed to start, Roman appeared out of nowhere.

"Good lord, where have you been?" Louis asked.

"Sorry, something urgent came up," Roman replied and then turning to Taylor he said, "So Taylor, we have a special fan who has journeyed for 32 hours to see you. Would you like to meet her?"

"Why of course! Lead the way."

Harry made to join Taylor, but she just turned around and said, "I'll be back," leaving Harry with Louis and the cameraman, who was ready to start recording.

Seeing no way out, Louis decided to get it over with as soon as possible.

"So Harry," he started with an unusually high pitched voice. He cleared his throat and resumed, "this is your first time at the Academy Awards. How does it feel?"

Harry hadn't spoken even once when Taylor and Louis were talking. His voice seemed to have died away in his throat. At that moment, he just wanted to hug Louis and apologize. With great difficulty he regained his composure and replied, "I'm nervous obviously and also very excited. It's not everyday that I get to be in the same room with so many special people."

"Speaking of special people, it's really wonderful that both you and Taylor got nominated and it would be double the celebration if both of you won tonight."

Harry could feel the edge in Louis' voice, and tried to push back the pang of sadness that was rising in his stomach.

"Yeah, definitely, I do hope both of us win."

"Well then good luck."

Harry smiled and stepped back from Louis, and instantly Taylor arrived again and took his arm as they made their way inside.

After an hour more of interviews, Louis found his way inside to where Zayn and Liam were sitting. They had arrived with him before the red carpet event began. Zayn noticed how flustered Louis looked and understood what the reason could have been.

"You okay Lou?"

"Yeah I'm fine."

"You don't look so good."

"It was very warm outside, I'm tired."

"Sure there isn't anything else?"

"No."

Before Zayn could press further, the lights dimmed out and the voice of the host boomed through the speakers,

"Welcome to the 93rd Academy Awards ceremony, presented by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.."

Harry wasn't sitting that far and Louis had to force himself to look straight ahead. He wouldn't let his eyes stray to where Harry was sitting with his girlfriend. Harry on the other hand, couldn't help but steal glances every once in a while at Louis' direction.

The ceremony proceeded pleasantly, other than the prickling sensation Louis was having, a feeling of being watched, everything was good and soon it was time for Harry's category.

"The next award is for the Best Actor and I'd like to call Leonardo DiCaprio on the stage to present it."

Louis stiffened. He was sure Harry was super nervous. He'd wanted to win this so badly.

With as much subtlety he could muster, he looked at Harry's direction, hoping to catch his eyes and at that very moment, Harry looked at him too, brows slightly furrowed with anticipation. He gave a little nod in Harry's direction and hoped that Harry understood him ; that he was proud of Harry no matter what.

Both of them looked away at Leo DiCaprio's voice booming through the speakers, "and the Academy Award for best actor goes to-"

Silence filled the hall and Harry could only hear the sound of his heart hammering in his chest. Louis' acknowledgement had been a comfort, but nothing had prepared him for this moment.

"--Harry Styles!"

The hall erupted in a roar of applause and cheers and Harry nervously stood up. After hugging Taylor and Niall and glancing once at Louis' direction, he made his way to the stage.

Harry had always been a shy person and currently a hall full of people, looking at his direction didn't make it easy for him. His heart was racing, given the adrenaline rush and he couldn't stop smiling. He was given the microphone to give a speech, but he just couldn't think of anything proper to say.

As the applause subsided, he started,

"Thank you so so much for the award. When I was working on the movie, I certainly didn't realise that we would come this far. My Policeman is an important movie and I feel lucky that I was chosen for it. Thanks to my director and my entire team who guided me throughout. Thanks to my family, currently watching me from home, who always supported me in everything and thanks to my loved ones for always wishing the best for me."

He let his eyes linger on Louis as he said this and a second later, the hall echoed with claps again.

The next category was for Best Actress and as expected, Taylor Swift bagged it. Confidence radiated from every inch of her face as she took the microphone for her speech.

"Wow, I wasn't expecting this, and was really nervous about it, even though my friend told me that I ought not to because this is like my 100th Oscar."

She air quoted the last word and winked at Harry as the people around laughed. "But thanks to the people who supported me through out the years and got me where I am today. I would be nowhere without you guys. Love you all." The applause after her speech was deafening. She was truly an icon.

For the rest of the evening, it became increasingly difficult for Harry to sit still. He couldn't wait for it to get over so that he could talk to Louis. But these things are easier said than done. As soon as the ceremony was over, he was being dragged back to his limo, as they were supposed to go to the after party hosted by Jennifer Aniston. It was more like a get together really and if Harry tried, he could get away, but Taylor wouldn't let him.

"Louis is coming too," was all she had to say to make Harry voluntarily come with her. This time Zayn got in with them too and they stopped at Zayn's studio for the change of outfits.

PREVIOUS / NEXT

INTRO

[darkenedreaper]

The Velvet Box

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: angst, lil fluff

A/n: requested by lovely @captain-josslett hope you enjoy honey

You and Natasha had been happily together for 2 years. The two of you had moved into a spare room within the compound. It was on the floor below her old room and it was on the same floor as your old room. Natasha was the happiest she’d been in a long time. The same for you.

After that extremely traumatic event that was your parents death, Natasha had become everything to you. You felt the desperate need to protect her, contrast to how you couldn’t protect your parents fro Hydra. The Avengers become your family. And you were deeply grateful.

Your shared room was simply decorated. There was some photos of the both of you and some of you and the Avengers scattered around the room. She had her own photo of you and her on her bedside table. It was a Polaroid, your arms were wrapped around her waist as she held the machine by her head with her hand, the other holding onto your wrist.

You and the Avengers had recently had a tough mission and had easily finished it. So Tony was holding a little dinner for all of you. Natasha had gotten ready putting on the finishing touches of her black dress, which ended just above her kneecaps. The straps of her dress left room to show off her collarbone and her shoes were black, only added to the beauty she had. Her red curls were perfectly draped over her back and arms and her mascara highlighted her eyes. You wore a black shirt that had 3 buttons open. Your shirt was tucked into your black pants and you wore a thin suit jacket over it. You had checked for the 100th time that the small velvet box was in your jacket pocket. And you made a mental note to not take it off. She came over and greeted you with a kiss on your cheek, raising her head slightly so she could reach you. You hadn’t worn a dress and you looked strong in that suit, which Natasha was fond off. But you still had that feminine shine. She linked your arm with yours and you left your room, lamp turned on to come back into after the small group party.

You had been gathered around the glass coffee table, Steve’s soft music was quietly playing on the speakers and you had made subtle eye contact with Clint and he knew it was time. He took away Steve, Bucky and Bruce. Which left Tony, Thor, Wanda and Vision. Tony got the hint and as you and Natasha were in conversation, Tony and Thor excused themselves as they were gently arguing over who had the best suit. Vision had left to go and make Wanda another cocktail and so Wanda rushes to his help, hoping to not have another incident in where the drink spilt all over the counter. They had given you space, far enough so you were basically alone but close enough that they could just catch what you were saying. You turned to Natasha catching her attention as her eyes stuck on yours and her lips turned up.

“Nat. You know how much I love you and, how much you mean to me. I’m not that good with words but, I.. I wanted to ask you something.”

She listened to you with confusion and then everything clicked into place once you had slipped off the sofa and onto one knee in the floor. She watched you take out a velvet box and she dreaded what came next. There it was. A silver white coloured ring with a diamond sitting on top of it. It was beautiful, yes.

“Will you marry me Natasha?”

You asked with a smile on your face. The team joe had their full attention on the both of you, smiled tugging at their lips aswell. Although your smile had started to die once she hadn’t spoken or did anything in 10 seconds. You tilted your head a little in question.

“Y/N.. no. I can’t.”

And she lifted herself up from the chair and simply brushed past you. The click of her heels had started to fade away and you began to feel... upset, like a fool. The team had watched her walk away and they turned back to you with sorrow looks on their face as they saw you still kneeling on the floor with no one in front of you.

“Well then..”

You whispered to yourself. You got up from the floor and sat down on the couch slowly, a million questions running through your mind. You had your head in your hand now. The ring was forgotten on the table, still closed now. Tony made his way over to you and sat down, he tucked his left hand under his jacket not wanting to show you his wedding ring as he knew that would pain you even more. He gently rubbed your back and whilst you had your eyes covered by tears and your hands, Steve took away the box and stuck it in his pocket. They didn’t do anything or say anything, all they could do was watch you. Wanda could hear your mind and heart breaking that made her frown. She could also hear the teams hearts breaking. You just decided to give the team a small smile, hiding your head as you made your way to your shared room. You opened it, not so surprised to see it empty, without her. Where you now single? What happens now? In hopes, you made your way to her old room and as soon as you reached it you knocked gently on the door.

“Natasha? Nat? Can we talk? Honey?”

She could hear your muffled pleads from outside the door, knowing you were leaning against it. But she decided to block it out and instead get undressed. Taking out her earrings that you had given to her for your 2 year anniversary. You decided to leave her, perhaps she would think things over.

You went to bed later on and cried. Cried without a shoulder to cry on.

It was now morning and you had gotten about all together, 13 minutes of sleep. You got up. Your hair was a mess, you had a T-shirt on and some sweatpants and socks. The team decided not to discuss what happened last night with either of you and instead Clint had breakfast. You slowly sat down at the kitchen counter and slumped over in your chair. You ran a hand in your hair and sighed. Clint slide your plate that had pancakes on that were shaped into a smiley face. You smiled back at him, satisfying him as he smiled warmly and turned back round to the pan. You soon pushed it away from you. Bruce and the News on tv had drowned out the possible awkward silence and your kindness nowhere except for when she walked in. You stood up from your chair and you hadn’t noticed Steve protectively standing behind you.

“Morning Nat.. can I err, can we talk?”

She had she gone deaf? You called out her name once more but you just watched her fill her cup up with coffee. She then walked past Steve and had taken a seat on the sofa in front of tv. You cautiously took only 3 steps in the direction she was sitting in and you called her name for the 3rd time.

“What?”

She said in a harsh tone without even looking your way. She was obviously ignoring you and it seemed like you got to her that much she eventually decided to answer you to get you to shut up.

“Can we talk?”

You said and your tone was a little more quieter.

“Nah.”

Nah. You hadn’t eaten anything for breakfast but suddenly you had energy. You nodded your head doing your best to not show your weakened face, even though she wasn’t looking at you. You made your way to the training room. They all couldn’t believe how she was acting. Like nothing had happened, like there wasn’t such a thing called a 2 year relationship between Y/N and Natasha. They had kept their mouths shut as they knew not to anger or disturb the Black Widow. Maybe Clint would try later, but not now.

2 hours you’d been in the training room. You had to re-wrap your knuckles another 2 times as you had gone that hard on the training back, the wrapping had dissolved away. Steve had been watching you long enough to know that you weren’t in the mind of you. He brought you in a sandwich he’d made and a bottle of water. He left it on the bench for you as he watched you once more with a sad frown before leaving you alone. After needing to wrap your knuckles for a third time, although it wasn’t doing to much to help as your knuckle skin was already broken. You grabbed the water, completely oblivious to the sandwiches.

It was later on now, getting to 11 o’clock at night and the team had done everything to drag you to bed but you locked the doors. Jarvis had then threatened to turn off the lights and he did, but you trained in the dark, only focused on the bag in front of you. Jarvis then talked literally into your ears until you were forced to leave. Your head and hair was drilling with sweat and you made your way up to Natashas floor. You needed a quick breather as you leaned your body against the corridor wall, taking some breathes before you weakly knocked on her door, arms hurting and knuckles bruised. You had knocked twice more and no answer.

So you made your way to what would now be your second room only the find half of it empty. Natasha had taken things from her bedside table, clothes from the wardrobe, her jewellery, make up, phone charger. Nearly everything. But she did an excellent job of leaving the pair of earrings you’d bought her. They were the same ones she was wearing the night you proposed to her. They were just sitting in the bed. But what hurt most was that the Polaroid of you and her was still on her bedside table, knocked over. She hadn’t taken it, probably not even acknowledged it. You were just still. Your face turned from a sad one to a neutral one and you grabbed a clean jacket and headed down to the ‘Mission Room’.

Bucky had to pull out of a mission because he had special plans with Steve and so you hoped that mission was still available as you’d take off in 10 minutes. And luckily it was. So off you went.

The night you decided to leave for the mission, had worried everybody. They were worried sick thinking you might’ve left or been kidnapped. Until Wanda had the gran idea of checking the mission file and sighs of relief had spread throughout the room seeing as you had checked out i the compound for the mission. Except for Natasha. She hadn’t even known that you were missing. At this point she literally blocked you from her mind.

It was about 2 months on now. You’d lost about 30 pounds. Your gym sessions were daily and lasted throughout the day. Every night you knocked on her door, got no answer. Then you would cry for about an hour and hate yourself for being so stupid and so unloveable. Throughout those months, the team had found that their mission had been completed, and that could’ve been 3 or 4 a day, adding up to a total of 30 missions a week. Your weight loss hadn’t gone unnoticed by the team. In fact, they tried to take you to Bruce’s lab and force feed you. Then tried taking you to a therapist, but you told them you’d eat if they let you go. You smiled every time but Steve could see right through it. They all could see your bloodshot eyes, bags under your eyes, bruised knuckles, clothes getting ridiculously big on you. So big, you had to have a new suit made for combat.

Wanda cried to Vision every night as your thoughts were too loud. She was crying because you were the opposite. You weren’t unloveable. You weren’t a fool. You weren’t a failure. But you were right about one thing. You were broken and slowly dying inside. Wanda was just lucky it was only her mind she could read and not your organs. You only ate every 4 days and that was maybe a cracker or two. The rest water, training, maybe sleeping. Clint provides you with many hugs and Tony would watch you whilst you were sleeping. He knew you weren’t you because as soon as you heard the door handle you used to sit up right away. Now you slept right though him stroking his hand through your hair. Steve was always protective and close to you as you just had a great and trustworthy connection with him. Natasha didn’t bother with you. You even sat down next to Natasha once when she was eating and she continued to take bites of her food and scrolled through her phone. Each night you’d find yourself sleeping in later, drinking more, losing more weight every day. Then it was team training day. Doctor Cho always stood on standby if anything serious happened. You were on the treadmill as usual but this time you just had to come off it earlier then usual. You tried walking around to get rid of the jelly legs and you tried to grab your water, but all you could see was 3 of everything. Bucky and Doctor Cho were studying you from a far and Thor had started to come over to you as he spotted your ghostly face and sweet beads a mile away. But you doubled over from a pounding headache and all Thor could see was what looked like your eyes shutting as you fell over on your side, body going limp. And everyone heard the thud on the hard floor as even Natasha turned her attention towards it. Thor had started shouting for Doctor Cho and the doctor called for medical assistant. Tony ran over and picked your head up from the floor and he placed it on his bent knees from sitting in the floor with you. He turned your head to the right so you were breathing properly and Natasha saw you. She froze. She actually froze. She was at first focused on your face, your cheekbones had stuck out, your eyelids looked raw red and the bags under your once beautiful eyes had turned purple, going darker and that horrible pale colour that washed over your face. Her eyes were then draw to how thin you were, and she saw him loose the t shirt you wore was, and then sweatpants were the same only baggier. They had to force you to sit up as you were still unconscious and she gasped when she saw your spine sticking through the t shirt and the distinct lines that represented your ribs. She placed a hand over her mouth and everything stopped. She realised what she’d done. How she’d broken you. How she abandoned you. How she left you alone to question if you weren’t good enough. She was then distracted by the team of doctors, 2 with a stretcher, that swarmed around and gently lifted you onto the moving bed. You now had an oxygen tank by your side and a mask on your face. Helen wanted to get an iv drip into you as soon as possible which is why you were rushed off so quick. All she could do was watch and the only part of her that could move were her eyes, desperately trying to see your face if your eyes were open yet.

Steve had stopped and looked at her watching before he quite rough ty shoved the velvet box into her hands. She didn’t dare open it. She just sat down on the training floor. Her thoughts were torn away from you as Clint practically stormed in to find her. His breath was rapid and his eyes were glossy. He stood above her with his hands on his hips.

“Do you know what you’ve done to her? Her organs are failing because of you! She thinks she’s unloveable, unwanted, a failure! Because. Of. You!”

He yelled at her. She could just watch him rant as she didn’t realise that tears were filling up her eyes and she didn’t know that a few slipped out. He soon softened and he sighed before having nothing left to say but he did look sympathetic towards her. He soon left her to return back to you.

As he returned to the room where the Avengers where he took a seat. You had multiple wires and lifelines hooked up to you. You had to have 2 more blankets placed over you as your body temperature was dropping. Thor sadly placed his cape over you. Steve was looking down, Wanda was trying to read your mind, Vision had his arm around her, Bruce was constantly checking your decreasing vitals. Tony was crying silently, the evidence staining his beard. And he was looking at your hand, wanting to hold it. Bucky looked at your face, then your finger and thinking how if she wasn’t so cold to you, within a year you could’ve been wearing a ring there aswell. To Bucky you looked like him when he was caged up which is why he had to leave the room, maybe to go and spend some time in your room. Heading out the door he bumped into Natasha who seemed frantic to get in there. He stopped to say something but she barged past until she saw your figure lying there.

Clint nodded to the rest of the gang for them all to clear out as she couldn’t take her eyes off of you. It could’ve been the disruption, it could’ve been the loud footsteps, noises of the chairs scraping but whatever it was, stopped your heart. Everyone’s heads turned to you and Natasha practically screamed for a nurse.

Tony was immediately by your side holding it as Thor was trying to pull him away as he was getting upset himself.

Helen and nurses came rushing in as they started to work on your body. Natasha refuses to leave and so she was allowed by your side. She did what she had to do and took out the velvet box, looked at the beautiful shining ring and placed it on her finger.

“Y/N. Y/N look. Open your eyes your ring is on my finger. Y/N I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry please!”

Helen had now started manual resuscitation as the team outside weren’t doing a good job of holding it together. Natasha had started to sob as suddenly there was a faint beep on the machine. And another. Another. You were back. She had dropped her head in relief and she begged you to open your eyes, much like you had begged her to open the door. They all heard a groan from you and Natasha lifted up her head and the Avengers were all crammed next to each other looking in through the window. Your eyes were slowly opening and you turned your head to see a green eyed beauty crying. She took a look at you and dropped her head down again in shame.

But that shame was replaced with hope as she felt a light squeeze in her hand that was yours. She grabbed yours with both hands. You couldn’t really talk with the mask over your nose and mouth and your mouth being extremely dry. So you used your other hand to point to it. All she could do was nod her head.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I don’t know why I refused you and.. and put my walls up when I’m this vulnerable around you. Please.. please don’t leave me.”

You gave her a slight nod from your head and a tired smile and she knew what that was. She dried her tears but was still sniffling and now smiling. And then you turned your head to see a bunch of Avengers smiling back at you, some sounds of ‘awes’ coming from them.

@natasha-danvers @imnotasuperhero @aaron-despair @confusinggemini612 @thewidowsghost @ecruzsalaz @fcbarcelona-and-marvel-4-life @gaytrashgoblin @capmarvelq @nat-romanoffdanvers @lesbian-x-blackwidow @emilyprentisswife @captain-josslett @oblivious-horny-lesbian @trikruismybitch @summergeezburr @username23345

[batarella]

I Don’t Hate You - Part 4 (Jason Todd x Reader)

Jason’s perspective! I’m enjoying this series. you guys have no idea how much it means to me when you enjoy reading them as well, since writing it makes me so happy.

WORDS: 6395 WARNINGS: EVEN MORE FLUFF AND HAPPINESS :’)

Masterlist

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-----

Jason used to dread hearing you scream, needlessly at either him or some unsuspecting person who got too much in your way.

He used to hate the sound of your voice. You were nice to look at, sure. But the moment you spoke? It was like driving the tips of cleaver knives down his ear drums and would go all the way through his head and neck. That shrill screaming at the back of your throat, mixed with the horrible things you said would’ve driven him insane if he didn’t manage to shut you up every so often. It helps not to be so afraid of you. He was the few people who’s actually had the last word in an argument against Y/N.

But now?

But now?

Every word you said, no matter what it was, no matter how insulting or offensive or unnecessary or condescending,

It was like the firmest, knowing fingers tapping lightly into piano keys, each one a step into making a low, steady melody. A remnant of when you sang. Sometimes, at the end of your sentences, he could pick out the notes and he’d pretend you were singing them.

At times, Jason would get lucky and catch you humming. He’d know the songs. But even when he didn’t, he’d stay back and listen. He’d stop everything he was doing just to hear you. Another two weeks had passed since that incident in the library, and since then, the sound of your voice, it had never been the same.

He still couldn’t stand you sometimes. You were a pain no matter what. But it was less often at that point. Your voice made up for it.

Like now, when he was sitting across you on the table. Ms. Peterson asked you both to write the return dates of the books in the cart on a notebook. You worked separately, both of you wearing earphones to drown out anyone who might come to you and ask for directions. It was his idea. He told you listening to music while working would help him focus and that you should do the same.

Paperwork was a bore. And the old woman who refused to use her computer for anything else other than solitaire demanded you wrote them down in notebooks. His wrist was going to hurt in just a few more minutes, and usually, by this time, you’d be complaining nonstop.

But you weren’t. You were silent that day, like the work you were doing actually interested you instead of the usual repulsion. Your hand was gripping tightly onto your pen and your handwriting didn’t look like it was rushed or bothered. Your eyes looked focused, and you had that look on your face when you were mostly relaxed but your mind kept hold onto whatever was in front of you. The same look when you were reading, or when you used the time you had in the library to study for an upcoming test.

Jason looked up from his notebook and momentarily stopped his hand. His eyes relaxed onto you, watching your eyes following your hand on the paper, with your other hand on the book to hold the cover open. Your hair was tied lightly behind your back, and you didn’t take a minute to take notice of him. The song he was listening, it was soft and mellow. It matched the calmness that traced your face. Your mouth started to move, little movements, every so often.

His little plan worked, getting you to listen to music while you wrote. Then you wouldn’t have enough consciousness to notice you were moving your lips to the song. Moving so silently, a stealthy flick of his fingers, Jason took out his phone, the new one that Bruce got him just because his old one had become far too insufferable to use, and paused his music.

You really didn’t notice. But he listened to you intently, pretending to listen to his own music when he was leaning in to hear the lightness of your voice. Humming, softly, and a bit of your actual voice peering out your closed lips. He knew that song. Video Games by Lana del Ray. He noticed you listened to her albums, especially since you had a similar voice as hers. You sung a few of the words in the chorus, then went back to humming. No one else would’ve heard it, and you most probably thought no one heard you, too. The closest one to you was Jason, and he was still listening to his own music. Or so you thought.

Jason didn’t bother holding back a smile, and he looked like an idiot grinning while writing into the notebook, looking at boring covers and taking down the dates. This was the most he’s heard you since sing since that night, and you weren’t even fully singing. Your beautiful voice managed to peek through, still. And he felt something in him lighten, fluttering, the heaviness in his chest thrown out the window almost instantaneously. You had the voice that would lull him to sleep, or the kind he’d listen to when he needed something to rid his mind of a violent cyclone. It didn’t show through much in your momentous hums. But that night, there was a deep soul in your voice. A soul in you. A soul no one would immediately see.

He looked up again to watch your lips move, quirking the corner of his own mouth up. You looked a bit sad, though. And tired. Maybe that was why you weren’t so angry today. He’d taken advantage of the moment too much and you looked up at him, your eyebrow raised. He managed to look busy at just the right time before you’d question him.

Another half hour passed and neither of you moved. Jason didn’t bother turning his music back up again. You might suddenly sing and he wouldn’t get to hear it.

Clicking the pen and leaning back against the chair, he stretched out his limbs. You closed your own notebook and flexed your fingers from an eventual ache.

“Finally.”

“Elphaba over there probably just wants to give us something to do,” you scoffed. Even your sigh sounded sad.

Jason leaned into the table, while you placed your head on your closed fist to rest your eyes. He looked at Ms. Peterson look silently amused at her computer screen. More solitaire most probably, or whatever game that was on a Windows 7 laptop. She looked up from her desk, eyeing the students at a far away table and shushed them from an elevating conversation.

He suddenly had an idea.

“Y/N.”

“What?” you said in annoyance, keeping your eyes closed.

“Wanna have some fun?”

You looked at him. “How?”

Jason leaned in closer to your face. You never wore cologne, but he could smell your hair. It was lemony sweet. “Get old timer there out of her desk. Just distract her for a few minutes.”

“And what are you gonna do?”

“You’ll see.” He winked. It made you smile a little with your eyebrow raised the way it usually. Sparing no time, Jason stood up from his chair and walked over to the carts beside Ms. Peterson’s desk, pretending to busy himself with the pile of books. Looking to you, you stood up and walked over to Ms. Peterson.

“Hey boss,” you said with the lightest voice you could. She picked up on your fake cheer.

“What do you want now?”

“I’m not here to complain, if that’s what you think.” Your voice went back to normal. “I saw a few kids at the back vaping between in the sciences section.”

Ms. Peterson took out her glasses and covered her wrinkly face with her palm. “These fucking kids. Go tell them off.”

You shrugged. “They won't listen to me.”

She looked at you exactly how you thought she would, without an ounce of belief. And you wouldn’t blame her. Jason might have done a good job at arranging books but when it came to telling nosy kids off from messing around in the hidden shelves, you were just the girl for the job.

Ms. Peterson didn’t question you, though. Standing up and pushing her chair back, she walked out of her desk and you went with her, looking back to Jason with your side eye.

Jason quickly went over to her laptop, since Ms. Peterson didn’t have a phone, and went at it with her browser. Everything was loading awfully slow, but thankfully Bruce had told him a few things with quick hacking no matter the system he had to work with. His fingers moving fast, he looked up and saw you emerging from the shelves.

“I’m giving you three days-worth of notes to rewrite, girl.”

“Great. Maybe then you’d give us something necessary to do.”

The old woman pointed her finger at you. “Quit your fucking whining and get back to work.”

You squinted your eyes and mocked her expression, folding your arms. Jason had left the desk and was walking towards you, passing by Ms. Peterson.

“Come on.”

“What did you do?”

He was grinning from ear to ear, and there was a buzz in your skin when he suddenly rushed to the shelf, pulling on your elbow to hide you behind with him. You both peered through the empty spaces of the books and watched at Ms. Peterson took her seat, going back to her game.

“What is going on-“

“Shh.” He held you back. “Wait for it.”

“YOOOOO I’LL TELL YOU WHAT I WANT, WHAT I REALLY REALLY WANT, SO TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT, WHAT YOU REALLY REALLY WANT. I’LL TELL YOU WHAT I WANT, WHAT I REALLY REALLY WANT, SO TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT, WHAT YOU REALLY REALLY WANT.”

Everyone’s backs shot up and everyone’s heads suddenly turned to the librarian’s desk.

Her laptop speakers, which were usually quieter than whispers, started to recklessly blare out ‘Wannabe’ from the Spice Girls, the walls almost vibrating at the intense volume all across the entire library. Ms. Peterson never looked so horrified in her life, pressing whatever button she can and looking hopelessly into whatever window was open in her tabs. Nothing made the song stop.

You and Jason burst out laughing behind the shelf, you lightly slapping his shoulder and even falling to the ground when you couldn’t take it anymore. Jason leaned against the shelf, holding onto his stomach, while his laughter filled the spaces between the words of the song. You leaned against the opposite shelf, watching him laugh along with you when you managed to open your eyes. Your stomach started to hurt.

You’ve probably never laughed so much in your life.

“Did you-“ he wheezed. “Did you see her face-“

“She looked MORTIFIED!” you laughed again, bending over your stomach to ease the pain. The song stopped and you’ve been laughing throughout the entire three minutes of the song. You simmered down, but your grins never left your faces and you laid against the shelf, still looking at Jason doing the same and calming himself with you.

Biting your lips, you waited for the inevitable.

“YOU TWO. GET OVER HERE.” Ms. Peterson stomped her foot and pointed at you both. Your smiles still hadn’t left even when the old woman had taken you to the Vice Principal’s office, with her ragefully explaining what had happened.

It was so worth it.

Vice Principal Watson looked like she had a storm of a headache, especially when she caught your eye and knew you hadn’t had a smidge of regret from what you’d just done. Jason stepped in eventually.

“It was my idea,” he said. And you looked at him rolling your eyes.

“But she was an accomplice,” the Vice Principal sighed and took out her phone. “I’m going to make some calls. Y/N. Jason. Wait outside.”

Ms. Peterson stared knives into your guts when she stormed out the room. You looked back with your shameful, mocking expression and Jason sat beside you in the waiting area.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said, though there was still remnants of his smile. “Dragged you into more trouble.”

“Are you kidding? That was one of the best things we’ve pulled out of the last four weeks!” You laid your head back and watched the ceiling. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

He bent over to rest his elbows on his knees. “I wonder what they’ll do to us now.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve done worse. They won't give you a suspension. Especially since, you know, you’ve got the highest GPA in practically the whole school. And what they won't do to you, they can't do to me. I should drag you into my troubles more often to cushion my punishments.”

He quired up an eyebrow and shamefully laughed, cheeks flushing. “I don’t have the highest GPA.”

“I think you do,” you said. “You know. For a dickhead.”

Jason rolled his eyes and looked the other way. Just a few minutes after, the Vice Principal called you back in.

“Well,” she let out a long sigh. “At least you two are getting along.”

You shrugged.

“I’ve made calls to your parents. And though Mr. Wayne was a bit more reluctant, telling me to let you both out by 6 pm instead of 7 since you, Jason, have something important to deal with for the night, I’m giving you both the task to mop up the gym floors.”

“Fuck,” you cursed.

Jason bit both his lips. They had that thing in Bludhaven to take care of with Dick for the night. He wasn’t even supposed to stay too late with library work anymore, since he was coming home even later than usual, delaying their patrols.

“Ms. Y/N, language. You’re both dismissed. Finish things up in the library until 4:30 then you’re both to be at the gym right after. The cleaning materials will be waiting for you by then.”

“Whatever.” Storming out the office with Jason following behind, you both made your way back to the library.

“Well. At least it wasn’t suspension.”

You didn’t look mad. “I don’t really care. I’m just happy I don’t have to go home so early.”

Jason studied your face. Your nostrils weren’t flared. You weren’t glaring at anything. Your eyes were focused forward and you didn’t look at anyone with any hostility. “You okay?”

Stepping into the library, with a cart full of books waiting for you by an angry librarian’s desk, Jason heard you sigh.

“My dad’s back,” you said. “Just when he’d left for a week. I thought that was for good.”

Jason took the cart, and you held onto the metal in front of it to lead the way. Instinctively, you stopped at a shelf and started to arrange the books, with Jason holding onto them to make space while you placed between the spaces. He could smell your hair again from here.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m so sick of walking to school, but hey. Anything’s better than listening to that asshat go on and on about how much I screwed up going home so late every time.”

He licked his lips. You sometimes had these episodes. And he learned it was better to just listen. You didn’t need to be told how to make yourself feel better. It was rare enough for you to actually talk about it at all. The best thing he could do was to keep his silence.

You both turned the cart over to the shelves deeper down the aisle. That shelf. The shelf you knew what to expect with. There was a shelf where people tend to smoke in, a shelf where kids vaped on the floor, a shelf where people slept,

And a shelf where couples go to make out on. Or worse. Do it. Jason’s been scarred with his own past, but nothing’s worse than walking in on two people on the verge of that. You and Jason called that shelf the Boner Aisle. Coincidentally, the romance novels were being placed there.

And when you both turned the cart to the corner, you caught two kids heavily making out without even noticing you’d come.

“HEY! DIPSHITS!”

There it was. The shrill scream that made him flinch and shut his eyes just a bit.

“TAKE YOUR HORNY BUSINESS ELSEWHERE BEFORE I MAKE AN ORNAMENT OUT OF HIS DICK.”

Jason was pursing his lips, not agreeing with her but not disagreeing either. He looked elsewhere at the shelves, avoiding eye contact with the poor couple staring horrified at you.

“NOW.”

They scrambled out the aisle before you could say anything else. Your glare would’ve been enough to drive them out. Your eyes were so wideset that everyone who turned their heads at you immediately looked away before you’d see them.

“Well,” Jason pushed the cart into the aisle. “At least they’re gone.”

“This is the third fucking time I drove those humping chihuahuas out of here.”

“That was a different couple. Each time you scream at them they never actually come back.”

You clenched your jaw. “Good.” You went back to arranging and Jason just couldn’t help but pinch your chin. You scoffed at him, annoyed, but he saw that slight quirk up the corner of your mouth and that light roll of your eyes that had more amusement than actual annoyance.

There weren’t many books for you to arrange, and the last one left was another Braille book that was to be placed all the way up higher than the top most shelf against the wall.

“Dammit,” Jason stood on his tiptoes, reaching his arm all the way up and still couldn’t reach the top. You glanced at his stomach peeking under his shirt. “I can't reach it.”

“Should we get a chair or something?”

“Nah. I’ll give you a boost. Just put it up there.”

He had that devious little smirk. You looked at him, teeth gritting and your eyes squinting at his expression. “Excuse me?”

“Come on. I’ll lift you. I can take it.”

Scoffing, he gave you the book and walked over behind you. “TODD.”

Not even giving you the time to react, he held onto your hips and lifted you off the ground so suddenly and swiftly, his hands gripping tightly onto you like you weighed half of what you actually are. You kicked your legs in the air, letting out a light, playful shriek mixed with laughter, then placed the book onto the top shelf with ease. His fingers lightly touched your skin when your sweater rode up, and it made you chuckle again.

Jason was smiling as well when he placed you back on the ground, his hands lingering on you for the shortest, needless while before pulling away. You turned around, arms crossed with your face muscles trying desperately not to make your grin so wide. But it failed. You smiled at him while lightly shaking your head, leaning your back against the shelf with Jason right in front of you.

“You think that’s funny?”

“It was hilarious,” his teeth showed and his cheeks started to hurt. It didn’t help with the hindrance of your own.

“Do that again, and I’ll skin your arms like a new phone’s plastic cover.”

“Oh,” he placed his hand on his chest. “I’m terrified.”

“You should be.”

He stepped closer. “Should I really?”

“Yeah.” Jason placed his hand right beside your face and stepped closer to you. You had that usual snarl at each other since the first day you met. But each day, smiles came along with them as well. “I’m still not afraid of you.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll come.”

He could really smell your hair from here. Jason shamelessly neared his face to yours, glancing at your lips, catching your eyes glancing at his. “You done gawking?” you whispered.

“Cute.” He scrunched his nose, which made you smile again. It wasn’t awkward at all.

“You trying to intimidate me, Todd? ‘Cuz it’s not working.”

“I think it is.”

“No. I don’t feel intimidated at all,” you smirked, and he squinted at you playfully. You both stared at each other’s eyes, before you heard the worst possible voice you could, the only one that contest your scream.

“IT’S 4:30, YOU BRATS. GET TO WORK.”

Ms. Peterson held out two mops, with a bucket on wheels beside her.

Not long after you found yourselves holding old, greasy mops, swiping along the dirt floors of the gym basketball court.

“Well, this is exactly how I imagined I spend my Friday night.”

He was working with a few feet in front of you. Jason worked with the mop with more ease, since he was stronger. You had a bit more trouble, on the other hand.

“FUCK YOU, PETERSON,” you yelled at nothing.

Only one light above the gym floor was shining at you both, giving you a dim, orange ambiance to an already dark hall. Your back was certainly going to hurt after this.

“You’re swiping at the wrong direction, Todd.”

“No, you are.”

“Look,” you swiped the mop in a clean stroke up and down. “Like this. You’re cutting way too many corners.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve never in my life MOPPED A GYM.”

“Well,” you shrugged. “I’ve had this punishment before. So I’d listen to me if I were you.”

“Listening to you would be like signing my own death sentence.”

“Jackass. DON’T MOP THERE.” You went over and held his mop. “YOU IDIOT.”

He violently grunted. “This is worse than being stuck in a library with you all night.”

“BLAH BLAH WHINY ASS SHUT UP.”

“GOD, YOU'RE-“

Jason made a gesture like he was going to choke you with his bare hands. You squished your face playfully. Four weeks with him, the arguments none stop, and it only came more naturally than it had the first time.

You were only a quarter down the court, and it was getting dark outside. “How many times have you mopped this gym?”

“Twice. Thrice, maybe,” you scaled the outside of the lines. “You’ve never done this before?”

“I’ve only been in trouble a couple of times.”

“From what? Fist fights?”

“Yeah,” he said. He wiped his sweaty forehead and black hair with the collar of his shirt and let it ride up his stomach. “This might have been the last straw before it actually starts to affect my grades. I’d never let that happen.”

You guffawed. “You're a nerd, you know that?”

“At least I’m not a regular at the Vice Principal’s office like you. What’d you do the last time they made you clean the gym?”

“Are you sure you wanna know?”

Jason looked at you take off your sweater, setting it on the railing beside you as you wiped off your own sweat. “Shoot.”

“I tore a guy’s book in half. With my scissors.”

“You fucking love those scissors, don’t you?” he didn’t sound surprised. You laughed and let your hair fall to your now bare shoulders. “Most of my offenses include them. They’re my weapon of choice,” you said. “Tell me about your fist fights.”

You were almost halfway done to the other end. “They were all with Brandon. I really fucking hate that guy.”

“What did he ever do to you, anyway?”

He looked up and around the gym. You were alone, he knew that, but he just wanted to make sure. “Swear you won't tell?”

“Who am I supposed to tell on, asshat?”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes. “When I moved here two years ago, the coach wanted me on the team.”

“Oh my God,” your mouth dropped to the ground. “You're serious.”

“Fuck yeah I am,” he said, standing up and opening his arms wide. “You ever seen this bod?”

You let out a disgusted gag and rolled your eyes all over the ceiling, turning your head so he wouldn’t see the rest of your face. “Whatever.”

“Anyway. Brandon wanted to try out, too. But they could only have one more guy in. Coach signed me in first, but after talking to Bruce, I declined.”

“Why?”

He didn’t look up from his mop. “I have other things to focus on. I wasn’t exactly interested in the sport and Bruce didn’t want practices to interfere with the training I already have at home.”

“Training?”

Shit. Was that too much information?

“Uhm. Yeah. Bruce made me learn martial arts. I have an entire workout regimen at home and everything.”

You looked at him puzzled. But you bought it. Thankfully. “Brandon must’ve hated that.”

“Yeah. Coach wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. Said I would’ve done a better job at linebacking than he ever would. He took it personally, of course. Then he’d just come up to me randomly and scream shit into my ear.”

“Wow. I almost feel sorry for doing the same.”

He grinned. “He found out I used to be a street kid and that I dropped out at 5th grade. It’s all he ever talks about.”

You stopped with your mopping. This wasn’t exactly your forte. Talking and making people feel better? You’d do better if you stayed silent. Jason didn’t mind. He didn’t want you to say anything either. “Shit.”

“Whatever. Jokes on him.”

“He’s got a new nose and everything. Your training really paid off.”

Jason bowed proudly. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t you even get used to it,” you sneered and pointed the end of the mop at him.

A quarter of the court left. You set the mop aside, leaning against the railing. Jason went out to buy water from the vending machine nearby, and you waited. He came back with a bottle in his hand. “They had one left.”

“You're kidding,” you snarled, leaning your head back. “I wanna drink.”

“Beg.” He held up the bottle from your reach, knowing full well you’d never win against that.

“Jason, I will drown you in your own piss.”

He clicked the bottle open and started to gulp down its contents. You reached up, pulling down his much larger arm that wouldn’t budge, but he kept on drinking and holding you by the shoulder so you couldn’t get near him. Screaming like a bird, you kicked his shin, which made him choke on his bottle and let you finally snatch it from his hands. More than half of it left.

“Thank you.” You sneered at him and started to drink.

He watched you, then, with you unsuspecting, he tipped the bottle over to let you choke on the pouring liquid. You spat out the water and dropped the almost empty bottle with your shirt drenched. “YOU FUCKER.”

He was laughing uncontrollably and started backing away when you took your mop, pointing the wet side at him and started to chase him down the gym.

“Y/N, DON’T YOU DARE.”

“I FUCKING WILL.”

You held out the end of the mop at him, running down the floor which you’d just mopped no matter how heavy it was on your straining arms. He didn’t even run. Jason was sprinting backwards, making faces at you and you growled and chased him around.

You managed to tap the wet end of the mop on his hip. “HA.”

“THAT WAS DISGUSTING.”

“YOU DESERVE IT.”

You almost slipped from the wet floor, but managed to keep your balance. Jason laughed out loud and took it as a chance to grab the mop from your hand and throw it across the room. “ASSHOLE.”

“TRY TO GET ME NOW.”

He kept running around, and you helplessly trying to catch up to him with your legs weakening and your arms so worn out that it ached. But, fuck it all to hell, this was what made sticking around at school late in the afternoon so bearable. Jason’s hair bouncing, some sticking to his forehead, his eyes all crinkled up and your laughter filling the air, you kept running and chasing him around.

You held your arms open, and he did the same, he charged left, then right, with you watching his every move. Jason backed away and started running into the bleachers. You followed right behind him, screaming when your foot almost caught between the seats. He ran all the way up, and when you caught up, raced down by sliding down the railing. There was no way you could catch up.

You ran back to your discarded mop, feeling your hair stick to your skin and you practically swimming in your sweat, you charged back to him again with your mop. “STOP WITH THE FUCKING MOP.”

“NO, I WON'T.”

You chased him, and right when he reached the center of the court, he slipped onto the floor and landed on his ass.

You never laughed so hard in a single day. You stopped running, clutching at your stomach, trailing the mop behind you as you paced to Jason wriggling on the floor, groaning.

“You okay, dipshit?” you laughed.

Jason watched you cover your mouth as your screaming chuckles echoed around the court, seeing you distracted, with your weight leaning into the mop, he moved.

He swiped at your legs, careful not to let you hit your head as you fell, and grabbed the mop from your hands. You screamed indefinitely and he backed away, now with your mop in his hands to protect himself.

You felt pain surge up from your ass, but you brushed it off. Sitting up on your elbows, you cocked your jaw to the side with a fun smirk as you stared straight into Jason’s winning grin. “Terrible things are going to happen to you, Todd.”

“I’d run if I were you.”

Seeing the mop charge for your face, you scrambled off the floor and ran with whatever strength you had left in your limbs. You were sweating and panting off your breath, but you were still laughing so hard that it didn’t matter. Jason chased you around with the mop just like you did.

You were much slower than he is, and the tip of the mop was no joke when he constantly poked at your legs and even your arm. “GROSS.”

“TOLD YOU.”

“GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME.”

He went on to pick on your arm, which was now drenched in disgusting mop water now and you could smell it. You wanted to barf, but you had to keep running. You almost slipped on the floor again and a loud, skidding sound filled the air.

You got his own mop that he’d set aside, and Jason finally stopped running. Both grinning from ear to ear, you pointed the end of your mop to him, and his to you. Silently, smiling, catching your breaths, you aimed at his arm but he was too quick to move.

Your eyes were even more piercing now that he’s seen you truly being happy.

You managed to hit his leg, drenching his pant leg. Jason squirmed in disgust, then took the end of your mop, pulling it from your hands and throwing it out into the ground. You screamed when he did that and ran for your life.

You went under the bleachers, ducking from the metal poles and beams with him trailing behind you. “YOU CAN'T RUN FROM ME.”

“YES I CAN.”

You turned and hid underneath the dark shades where he couldn’t see you any longer. Jason stopped running, still standing underneath the bleachers, and held onto his mop like it was a weapon. “Where are you, you little shit?”

He stepped out of the bleachers, back out into the court. No movements, nothing he could visibly see.

Silence. Silence. Then his breathing started to slow.

“Y/N?”

Just as he called your name, something climbed onto his back and started pulling on his arms like a large, deranged animal. Jason cried out in surprise, but bent over so you were practically in the air, legs flailing about and your arms tearing at the air trying to get hold of his mop.

“AHHH!” You laughed into his ear, and he kept screaming and running around to get you off of him, but your hold was firm and strong, even with the position so awkward. He pushed the mop further away from his body where you couldn’t reach it. “GIVE ME THAT.”

“NOT A FUCKING CHANCE.”

You kept fidgeting on his back, your laughter never faltering, and his strength allowed him to carry you around even when you desperately tried for the mop. Suddenly, Jason threw the mop onto the floor, and you jumped off of him to run towards it.

But it was his turn to hit him from behind.

“JASON DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE.”

Grabbing your waist, he circled his muscled arms around you, keeping you from running away. Your laughter was through the roof. And his heart never beat so loudly. “JASON GET OFF. NO. NO. NO. JASON AAHHH!”

He lifted you off the ground, your legs flying into the air and your arms struggling to get off his hold. Jason laughed into your ear and you wiggled within his hold, not even remotely having the chance to get off of him. He walked slowly to the center of the court, keeping you steady.

“JASON I WILL KILL YOU WHEN I GET OUT.”

“YOU'RE NOT GETTING OUT.”

“PUT ME DOWN.”

“NO.”

You swung your legs around, throwing your head back to rest it against Jason’s shoulder.

“JASON I SWEAR YOU WON'T HAVE ARMS AFTER THIS.”

“BEG.”

“I’M NOT GONNA FUCKING BEG.”

“THEN I WON'T PUT YOU DOWN.”

“PLEASE PUT ME DOWN, YOU SON OF A BITCH.”

He did put you down, but kept his hold on you so tight, you still struggled to keep off his hold.

Jason found something better to listen to other than your singing, something you weren’t so ashamed to do and something he didn’t have to try so hard to get out. Something not everyone had the privilege to hear, either.

Your laughter.

-----

6:05 pm. It was getting dark outside and the chill ran down your damp skin that smelled of dirt water. With you and Jason heading out the school gates, you put your sweater back on and headed for the sidewalk.

“See you on Monday.”

“You have three days to live,” you glanced back at him and gave your last smidge of laughter for the day. “Enjoy it while you can.”

He mocked your face and turned over to his motorcycle.

Jason couldn’t see the sun anymore, and the lamp posts were starting to light up. Further down, and the posts would stop.

You turned to the corner of the street and placed your hands firmly into your pockets. It was cold when your skin had just been violated by a mop. Your eyes were focused on the cemented sidewalk, and you started for the pedestrian lane. A few minutes and you’d reach the edge of the city, where you’d have to be even more careful at a time like this.

Looking straight forward, your attention was suddenly taken by a buzzing of a motorcycle engine and a boy with a snarky grin on his face.

“Hop on.”

“Leave me alone, Todd.”

“I’ll take you home.”

You kept walking, and his motorcycle followed your pace. “I’m walking.”

“Then I’ll just have to keep following you until you get home.”

“I don’t know what is up with you, dude.” You cocked your jaw at him, then you saw another helmet in his hand.

“Come on. It’s too late for you to walk home. You shouldn’t have to walk every day.”

You finally stopped, looking at both sides of the streets. Jason raised his helmet visor to look at you.

Your smile seemed sad. You weren’t mocking him. You weren’t about to insult him. You smiled, yet your eyes hang low.

Yet, he could see the sadness was just a bit less than it had been when the day started.

“Really?”

“Yes.” He handed you the helmet. “Come on.”

Hesitantly, knowing you weren’t the one to accept favors from just anybody, you gave in. You took the helmet from Jason’s hand and hopped on behind him.

“Hold on tight.”

You grabbed his waist, then he started speeding down the streets to where you usually trailed the sidewalks on foot. He snaked past cars, further down until you were both in the city, the sky dark and the city lights reflecting off your helmets. You leaned in towards him.

You. Of all people. You. The girl who once threw a knife at a classroom wall. The girl who stabbed her lab partner with a scalpel when he accidently spilled frog blood into her coat. The girl who’s made so many people cry, some had to go into therapy.

And you were holding him tight, leaning in to give him your trust.

He felt special. In his own twisted way, he did.

You eventually arrived home. Swinging your leg over the motorcycle, you gave him back the helmet.

“Thanks,” you coughed, scratching the back of your neck and bringing your hands in front of you.

Jason smiled at you, keeping silent as he watched you go up the stairs and into your apartment building. He caught you glancing back and he let the memory of your bright smile burn though his head on the way to the manor.

When he got home, still in a daze, Alfred took the liberty of washing his shirt immediately when he came in smelling like dirt water.

“Master Bruce isn’t happy with you being in so much trouble in school.”

“Tell him to chill. I’m fine.”

“You have twenty minutes to get ready, Master Jason. You leave for Bludhaven in a short while.”

Jason got to his room, and unlocked his new phone.

His heart halted when he saw an unknown number send him a text from ten minutes ago. Jumping into his bed, Jason opened the message.

‘I smell like shit. Thanks a lot, jackass.’

Only you would say something like that after he just saved you thirty minutes of walking home in the cold dark. After all this time, you saved his number after he gave it to you three weeks ago.

‘You’re welcome. It suits you.’

He saved your number with a devil emoji beside your name.

--------

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-----

Taglist: everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive  @lucy-roo  roseangel013bf @ loxbbg  reclusive-chicken-nuggethttp-cherries shadowsndaisies

[kisskissbanggang]

Can You

[~10Min Read/3.3K Words - Sub!Jaehyun x Dom!Female Reader - NSFW 1/2 Plot 1/2 Smut - Office hookups, impromptu dom/sub, mutual pining, dirty talk, mild degradation]

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You’d never really looked at Jaehyun until he wore a suit to the office. Of course, you saw him nearly every day, but the day he dropped his messenger bag on your desk as he raced around, looking for his tie clip he’d left in the office last time he had a hearing, you truly noticed him for the first time. It wasn’t exactly in your job description to acknowledge how effortlessly tidy he kept his hair, or how neatly he kept the stubble on his chin smooth, or the natural charm of his dimples, but now you were trying desperately to keep your mind off of it after he ran to catch his Uber. Surely, you would forget about it, and not have to worry about disappointing your father, who’d pulled some strings with a friend to get you this job in Jaehyun’s office in the first place. 

But then Jaehyun came huffing back into the office at the end of the day, after his hearing, while you were on your way out. His suit jacket was slung back over his shoulder, with his tie pulled loose in his shirt collar. The look alone made your heart quake. 

“That ran way longer than I’d been hoping,” he laughed exhaustedly as he shrugged back into his office, “I’m so happy to get this stupid suit off.” 

“Want some help?” You laughed, instantly mortified at your outlandish remark. Thankfully, Jaehyun laughed. 

“Not tonight,” he chuckled, his shoulders appearing to relax as he thankfully seemed charmed by your joke.  

And you refused to think about it, wouldn’t have deigned to think about how Jaehyun would look taking that suit off when he got home that night, and how maybe you wanted to take it off for him. Instead, you returned back to your little apartment on the other side of the city and hopped into a freezing shower. 

Sure enough, the next morning Jaehyun strolled into the office in jeans and a sweater. 

“Well, you certainly look more comfortable,” you chirped politely. 

He let out a relieved sigh. “So much more comfortable. Can I please have some coffee?” You tried to look away from his cute smile as you nodded, his dimples pulling you in an untrustworthy direction. He shut the door to his office as he cued up some music on his speakers so he could get caught up on work. The thought of Jaehyun’s broad shoulders, the way he bit his lip when he was thinking — it was all hopefully getting pushed out of your mind as you took an extra long moment to pour Jaehyun some coffee. You peeked through the window lining his office door and looked back over your shoulder to check with his assistant real quick to see if Jaehyun was on a phone call before you softly rapped on the door. The sight of Jaehyun’s worn sneakers propped up on his desk distracted you for a moment before you responded to his smiling wave beckoning you in. He sat up in his seat, grinning gratefully as he took a brave sip of the hot brew in his favorite mug. 

“Sorry for whining,” he sheepishly offered, maybe emboldened by finally getting some caffeine in him. 

“I’m just surprised, is all,” you smirked, “I thought suits sort of just came with the whole lawyer thing, like a package deal.”

“Well, honestly, I totally used to be that guy at my last firm,” he admitted with a shrug, “but things change. There’s more important things than looking the part.”

“I agree,” you curtly smiled at him, trying not to look like a bashful schoolgirl as you breezed out of his office. 

The next few days, work consisted of you ghosting around and away from Jaehyun’s office, and trying hard not to be preoccupied by his comfortable sneakers casually kicked up on his desk as he seemed to be asking for coffee refills more often than usual. Of course, you did still have to bring him his personal mail everyday. Maybe that would be a fitting opportunity to get this dumb crush out of your system. You resolved to finally start making yourself clear without being unprofessional, that you would make it known to him that you understood where the boundary was and weren’t going to cross it. 

The following morning, the perfect chance came as you set a package on Jaehyun’s desk along with his coffee. Jaehyun quickly sat up and clicked off his Twitter feed. He’d apparently been looking up a girl. You knowingly tapped the package. 

“Secret gift for your girlfriend?” You prodded, just innocent enough to be passing small talk, but surely something that would let your intentions be known. Except Jaehyun laughed, which in this moment meant he choked on his coffee. 

“Girlfriend?!” He guffawed. “Lord, no. This is just an emergency tie to keep in my desk. I’m single, and I’m just fine with that. Are you?” The look in his eye was goading, teasing, and it lit a fire in you that you weren’t quite familiar with. 

“Oh, er—“ you stumbled over your words as you grabbed some napkins from your back pocket. You always carried some when fetching coffee for the partners, just in case something like this happened. It didn’t quite strike you as an odd move when you leaned over his desk to wipe up the sputtered coffee, but it was increasingly apparent as you noticed you were practically bent over Jaehyun’s lap. You both froze before you quickly snapped back up, apologizing profusely as you excused yourself from his office. 

You dreaded the rest of the day, wondering if this was it, if you’d grossly overstepped your boundaries while desperately trying not to without causing a scene. 

But nothing came. No yelling, no lecturing. In fact, your father called. He heard you were doing great. 

Honestly, it was easier to just ignore it, to just cage the butterflies in your stomach that came around every time Jaehyun made small talk or asked you to hold his calls, or ask for his fourth cup of coffee for the day. Jaehyun never overtly made a pass at you other than harmless jokes, and he never got too personal. It was easy to try ignoring him. All you really knew about Jaehyun Jung was that he was a young lawyer, and an incredibly competent one at that. He refused to divulge much else. His office had no pictures, no knickknacks — only his minimalist decor and tech, his diplomas and certificates, and one lone orchid that sat on his windowsill and he cared for religiously. As opposed to the older partners, his reference books were all on his hard drive. He didn’t go out, he refused to let anyone celebrate his birthday, and he only stuck around at the annual holiday party for the White Elephant and a single beer. To say Jaehyun was closed off was putting it mildly. He wasn’t an island — he was a fortress. 

Over the course of another week, you became so good at ignoring your schoolgirl crush on Jaehyun that it was as if it never happened. You could even resume life as normal, to a point that you found yourself knocking on Jaehyun’s office door with a fresh cup of coffee before he asked. He sat up with a start, planting his sneakers on the carpet as he eyed you. 

“I’m single, you know,” he blurted, “but I’m not looking.”

“That’s fine?” You raised a dubious eyebrow at him. “This is just a cup of coffee.”

“I, uh,” Jaehyun stammered, blindsiding you with his uncertainty before he pointed to the hook behind his door. “Can you take my suit to the dry cleaner’s? I was going to do it at lunch but I need to really review these exhibits before I have to present them tomorrow at my trial.”

You’d nodded dutifully, taking Jaehyun’s suit in its garment bag to hang on the coat rack by your desk until your lunch break. The faintest hint of Jaehyun’s cologne hit your nose and you grimaced before quickly hanging it up and pretending that no longer existed, either, or at least until lunch. 

Jaehyun didn’t even come to the office the following morning, no doubt having to go through his own practiced ritual before a jury trial. It wasn’t until later that day, just in time to close the office, that a group text came through the office. Jaehyun had lost. It wasn’t necessarily a surprise — Jaehyun never wanted this to get to trial in the first place — but everyone seemed pretty relieved to have to clear out. 

Except for you. You stared at the mountain of files to update on your desk. It was nice, honestly, to work with no coworkers and no phones ringing, just you and some quiet music to power through your work until you were ready to lock up the office. You were closing the door, by itself at the end of a winding hallway, when you felt a presence sneak up behind you. You whirled around, facing a very defeated Jaehyun, his sleeves rolled up and his tie hanging slack around his neck again. He regarded you warily, tiredly, in the seemingly cramped space of the hall. 

“You alright?” You softly asked. 

“I cannot wait to get out of this stupid suit,” Jaehyun sighed, an exhausted smile revealing his dimples. There it was. That dreaded longing. You just needed to hold it back, not make any rash—

“You want some help?” You smirked. 

God dammit. 

Jaehyun held your self-conscious stare. The two of you attempted to read each other, get any sort of handle on the situation. You decided this was it, you would briskly turn and leave and forget you were this big of an idiot, and hopefully he would as well. 

Except Jaehyun reached for you. He reached for you, his fingertips brushing over your waist and his lips grazing over yours before they pressed to your cheek, and ultimately the soft spot on your neck just below your ear. 

Your fingers grasped at his shirt, the metal of your office keys digging into your palm before you pulled him close, and pushed him back away. You were staring each other down again, now with the added layer of Jaehyun blushing through to his ears. The silence of the hallway was crushing. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun shook his head as he pressed back against the wall in the compact corridor, “I meant it the other day. I’m not looking for anything. You’re gorgeous, and I can’t stop looking at you, and my caffeine intake has tripled in the past weeks, but I’ve… You have to understand. I’ve hurt people before.”

The ball was in your court, except this felt more like a grenade. Jaehyun was looking at you, and was asking you into his office lately just to see you and talk to you. And you quashed all these feelings, for what? For some high school nonsense like this?

“That’s fine,” you decided. Jaehyun stared, unblinking. 

“What?”

“That’s fine, Mr. Jung,” you nodded, teasing him with the title he’d instantly insisted you not use when you first started at the firm. His eyebrows raised cautiously as you slowly grasped his necktie and drew him close. “I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m not asking you to exorcise all your demons or martyr yourself. I’m telling you that if you want it, I’ll help you take that suit off.”

“You’re trouble,” Jaehyun laughed breathlessly. 

“You’re the one wasting time asking me to get you coffee when you could’ve been asking me out.”

You shut up Jaehyun’s surely clever retort as you yanked him close, this time giving him the proper kiss he’d deprived you of initially. To your relief, his lips responded in kind, his tongue following your lead as his hands searched your body, before landing on the keys in your hand. He quickly got the office door open, and you pulled him along, clumsily punching in the alarm code and letting Jaehyun desperately grope at you. Both your work bags dropped to the floor of the lobby, your coats landing on top of them as Jaehyun kissed you back through the dark office to his door. You still had a vice grip on Jaehyun’s tie, holding him close and making him accidentally push you hard against the door, a grunt reverberating through both of your chests. And his hands were in your hair, fretting over hurting you and making sure you were alright and kissing your face before you turned the knob to his office, sending you both tumbling inside. Making quick work of him, you shoved Jaehyun to sit back on his desk. 

“What’re you going to do to me?” He quietly asked, but it wasn’t timid. Jaehyun was challenging you, dipping a toe in the rapids. 

“I’m going to make you forget your ghosts for a little bit,” you explained as you swiftly slid off his tie. Jaehyun watched, intrigued and curious as you crawled onto the desk between his legs, but only to reach around him to rummage around in the drawers behind him. 

“Not very interested in me, huh?” He asked, as if he’d proven any sort of point before you scoffed. He went rigid under you when you sat back up between his legs, his recently acquired emergency tie in your hands. 

“Don’t be dumb,” you smiled in the scant moonlight streaming through the window lining the wall. “Of course I’m interested in you, Mr. Jung, but I’m a bit hung out to dry after seeing you’re all flash but no bang for the past couple weeks.”

“I resent that,” Jaehyun laughed weakly, his eyes pointed at your fingers lifting the hem of your skirt so you could straddle his hips on the desk. 

“Don’t argue,” you condescendingly shook your head, “you did plenty of that today. You asked what I’m going to do to you, and right now I’m going to work out this frustration you left me with.” Before he could respond, you firmly pushed Jaehyun back onto his desk before gathering up his wrists and wrapping one of his ties around them. 

Until he roughly jerked them away. You nearly scoffed, nearly teased, until you sensed a desperation — fear — in his action. 

“Jaehyun?” You asked gently. 

“I’m fine,” Jaehyun insisted as he got his breath back. “I just… can we not? Do that, specifically, I mean.”

You sat up on your knees, still perched over Jaehyun’s lap and frozen as you wondered where to go from here. 

“Jaehyun, baby,” you soothed as your hand gently cupped his face, “we can take a minute. We can stop.”

Jaehyun’s hands found your hips in the dark, gliding over them and pulling you close. “No, please,” he pleaded, his voice low in his throat and still coated with lust. “I can handle you.”

“That’s a strong choice of words,” you smirked, relieved to get the moment back when you caught Jaehyun’s fingers fumbling with the waistband of your skirt. He jolted as you slapped his hand off, getting his attention back so you could begin to unbutton his shirt. “Don’t be selfish,” you chided, “get mine, too.”

“Anything, princess,” he eagerly agreed, his fingers deftly plucking the buttons of your blouse open. Nevertheless, you grimaced at the pet name. 

“Call me something else,” you suggested, threading your fingers back through Jaehyun’s hair and tugging before letting them trail down to his exposed chest. You thumbed over his nipples and enjoyed how it made him squirm. His cock surged against you through his slacks. 

“Yes, baby,” he readily complied. “What now?” 

“Now you have to be patient,” you smiled. “If I don’t want to make you keep your hands to yourself, can you be good and sit still on your own?” Jaehyun eagerly shook his head. You slid down his lap a little, just enough to get your hands on his belt and unbuckle him. His breath caught in his throat as you got a hand around his warm length and his hands searched, reached, desperate for any other stimulation before he pulled you close to tug your bra down and hungrily tongue your nipples. Your grip massaged his cock at an agonizing pace, and Jaehyun was getting worked up much too fast to be dignified. 

“Please, baby,” he begged, “I need it. I need to fuck you.”

“Oh?” You laughed, “Since when?”

“For weeks now,” he wheezed. “I need you.”

“Really?” You grinned devilishly, lifting your hips just enough to pull your panties to the side, lewdly rubbing yourself to taunt him. He couldn’t take his eyes off you as you exposed yourself for him but wouldn’t let him have any. “You want to fuck me?”

“Please,” Jaehyun pathetically groaned, even more so as you took his turgid length in your hand and rubbed the head against your soaked heat. He tried in vain to keep from rutting up into your entrance. 

“Say it,” you commanded. 

“Say what?” Jaehyun desperately implored.

“Say thank you,” you grinned triumphantly, grinding your pussy down onto just the head of his cock as you roughly thumbed and pinched  his erect nipples. Jaehyun let his head fall back against the desk as you finally dipped him fully into you. You savored his shuddered groans of pleasure. Jaehyun still obediently kept his hands to himself, even as he uselessly babbled his endless thanks to you. “It’s so convenient,” you smirked, “having a good boy to keep his hands to himself on his own. It gives me a chance to get some work done around here.”

Jaehyun watched, captivated as your fingers dipped down to your clit and drew fervent circles in time with your pace on his cock. 

“Tell me you want to see it,” you ordered, breath ragged as you bounced hungrily on Jaehyun’s leaking cock. 

“See what?” Jaehyun panted, his fingers gripping tight to the edge of his desk. 

“Tell me you want to see me cum all over your nice suit,” you teased. 

Jaehyun moaned hard, cursing under his breath as he watched helplessly. “Please, baby,” he pleaded, “I want to see you cum.”

“Cum where?”

“I-I want to see you cum all over my nice suit,” Jaehyun confidently stammered. 

“Only if you fill me up,” you grinned valiantly. Your goading did the trick. Jaehyun’s head pressed back into the desk, his eyes screwed shut as yours did the same. Your body jolted, your pussy contracting and spasming on his spurting cock as you both cried out.  

Seemingly minutes later, you found yourself resting on Jaehyun’s chest, eyes groggily reopening as you let your thoughts fall back into place. You absently played with the bracelet around Jaehyun’s wrist where his hands had finally relinquished the desk, a simple and dainty set of chains that felt cool against the pads of your fingers. 

“Did you really want to do this for weeks?” You murmured into his chest. You cooperated as Jaehyun sat up with you in his arms. He gently buttoned your blouse back up, petted your hair back into place as he hazily nodded. 

“I did. I’ve wanted you, but I couldn’t bring myself to make that step. I guess I needed you to help me.”

“I’m glad I did,” you smiled modestly. Jaehyun pulled you close in his lap again, his nose buried into the crook of your neck. 

“And you were right.”

“Hmm?” You contentedly hummed. 

“You made me forget for a bit.”

You sat back, studying Jaehyun’s face for a sense of inflation or play, but found none. 

“Want me to do it again sometime?” The question was phrased lightly, but you meant it. If you could be with Jaehyun again, you would. He just had to want it. 

“Can you?”

[A companion series.]

[kpopcotton]

Seven Minutes of Heaven ~ Jung Jaehyun

a/n ~ when struck with sudden inspiration, it’s best to get it all out at once i say • Genre: non-idol!au, slight romance, strangers to friends, drabbled fluff • Warning(s): faint mentions of alcohol • Reader Gender: gender-neutral • Word Count: 1.1k

   it’s safe to say sicheng’s birthday party is a success, everyone turning up to celebrate with gifts in their arms and smiles on their faces. there isn’t a shortage of people either, it seemed there were bodies in every corner of the dorm. it wasn’t loud nor cramped, however, people choosing to participate in casual conversion in small groups with some (also known as, a very tipsy mark) making rounds to talk to everyone. soft jazz music, per request of the birthday boy, is playing on a bluetooth speaker in the main living space.

   despite the atmosphere being inviting and chill, jaehyun finds it hard to breathe. he had placed himself on an armchair in the corner and only had a tiny portion of his mixed drink left but he felt like he hit a wall, and it was only eight o’clock. the people around him didn’t seem to pay him any mind as he spaced out, focused on whether haechan could keep down the shot yuta had offered. spoiler alert, he couldn’t.

   fresh air. that was jaehyun’s first coherent thought in the past thirty minutes. he needed fresh air and he needed it now. he politely excuses himself from the group that had accumulated and starts to make his way to the balcony. on the way, he’s stopped by an urgent question from a sickly-looking jisung about the whereabouts of the restroom, and a laughing chenle who held something horrendously brown in a shot glass. he kindly directs the two younger boys with a knowing smile, leaving his almost empty drink on the kitchen counter before he makes his escape outside.

   finally, jaehyun could breathe again. the night air was chilly with the promise of fall, but it felt so good. it soothes his constricted lungs instantly and he heaves a large sigh, leaning against the railing, watching the cars and people on the street below. he enjoys the muted murmur of people chatting through the glass door and the sounds of the city. 

   however, his quiet moment to himself is short-lived when the door opens behind him. he turns to the sound to be met with you. he had seen you arrive at the party early with one of the biggest wrapped presents imaginable. you were warmly welcomed by winwin himself and pinned to the man’s side the rest of the night as he introduced you to people. truthfully, jaehyun had no clue who you were, or how you knew one of his closest friends, but he knew one thing. you were stunning.

   you had a bright smile that lit up the dorm upon entry, and you must’ve had a personality to match with the way people swarmed you. you bring out that smile now, just for him, though it’s much smaller, as you come to stand next to him at the railing. gosh, jaehyun’s ears seem to burn him and he’s sure they’re as red as they felt. he quickly sends his gaze forward as a way to try to keep them off of you. he didn’t want you to feel creeped out if he kept staring. he tries his hardest to focus on the fire escape of the building across the street, he really does, but he can’t help it as his eyes trail back to you. you seem to have that effect on him. and, you look even better up close, with the moonlight bouncing off your skin, and you smell like a million dollars. he fells high on whatever perfume you had used. maybe you were rich, he considered, and that was why the air around you felt so powerful, so breathtaking. he realizes you had spoken to him, softly, and he didn’t hear a word, too busy looking at your expensive clothing.

   “p-pardon?” he stutters out, his eyes finding yours as quickly as possible.

   you laugh, it’s a sweet sound that turns up the inferno on his ears. “i said it’s a beautiful night.”

   “oh,” he manages to nod, his eyes glancing at the sky before they naturally drift back to you. “yeah. it’s real … nice.” good job, jaehyun, you have such a way with words.

   “relax, jaehyun, i don’t bite,” you mumble with a smile, your hand softly landing on his upper arm and all his focus lands on the simple touch. suddenly, he’s speaking without even realizing it.

   “you know my name.” 

   he notices your expression grow shy as you glance away briefly, “oh, yeah, sicheng told me everyone’s name when i first got here. i’m y/n.” you look him in the eye now, your hand pulling off his arm and as you hold it out to him.

   he shakes your hand as if he’s in a trance (and, maybe he is), “nice to meet you.” he whispers softly, having to resist saying his own name despite you knowing it.

   you smile again, a bit wider this time to show that you’re pleased. “nice to meet you too.”

   after that, you seem dead set on getting jaehyun more comfortable around you. you ask him questions about himself and he enthusiastically returns them, hoping to find out as much about you as he can. slowly, he opens up to you, and before either of you know it, conversation flows easily between you. jaehyun feels as if he’s on cloud nine, you’re exactly as he thought, absolutely brilliant in every way. he finds talking to you is addicting, something he could do for hours if he so chose to.

   but, sadly, his time alone with you is cut short when taeil politely interjects to inform both of you that it’s time for sicheng to open his presents. you quickly join taeil at the door, your excitement bubbling over as gush about how much you hope winwin will like his gift. you send jaehyun one last smile over your shoulder before running inside.

   instantly, he fells the mood on the balcony mellow as taeil silently waits for him at the door. jaehyun holds back a sigh, a soft (definitely starstruck) smile plastered on his lips as he joins his friend and walks with him to the main living area where everyone has gathered. he finds you perched next to the birthday boy on the couch, your smile so wide it has to have made your cheeks sore. he wants to sit next to you, maybe strike up another conversation, but he opts to kindly watch from the edge of the crowd.

   after all the presents are opened, people start to help clean up the mess. jaehyun helps as best he can, handing trash to people with bags, and somewhere along the line finds out from a saddened sicheng that you had left due to a sudden business call. the realization that he may never see you again settles upon him, filling him with dread as well as determination. he’s never one to back down from a challenge. he hopes to, no, has to see you again, talk to you again, feel you again. 

he has to find you, his seven minutes of heaven.

[naptoons]

Official Girl— Zion Kuwonu

Warnings: mild mature language.

Theme: Angst / Fluff ??? I guess I vauguely know the diff.

Summary: you and Zion have been together for almost half a year, but it didn’t feel like it cause when it came down to the public eye, he was single. And you were just his friend.

A/N: I did not proofread any of this so if there’s some spelling errors I apologize, and I hope it isn’t cringe! Enjoy🖤

You and Zion have been dating for almost a year and to your surprise no one even knew expect the PRETTYMUCH members along with their girlfriends. Neither of your family members knew either. You had a million thoughts going through your brain debating which thought was the placebo of why he would want to hide your relationship for almost a year. Don’t get it wrong, your relationship is great, he makes you happy. But hearing him tell the rest of his friends any beanz that ‘you’re aren’t his girl’ and ‘just a friend’ kinda made you think back on the days where you were stuck in the friend zone with him.

Sighing you slouch in your chair turning in your essay. You decided to go to los angles to study for your major. You wanted to get out of your hometown experience new places and people. You met Zion through one of your friends. You’ve never even heard of ‘PRETTYMUCH’ until she showed you a few of their music videos and interviews you started to hone in on them. Next thing you knew your friend bought you guys tickets and meet and greets in los angles.

Zion had his eyes on you on and off the entire time on stage. And boy was he thrilled to see you at meet and greet. And that’s the cliché way you meet Zion and became his “girlfriend” more like “girl-friend” groaning you hop out the bed going to grab a cup of water but your phones text tone vibration on the cherry wood table stops you. Moving towards your phone you see a text from the devil himself. Crazy how the universe works.

[ From: Babie 🤧🧡 ]

Hey mamas you wanna go to a birthday party with me? I promise I’ll stick by you the whole night ❤️

Moral of the story to the last sentence Zion typed was prettymuch had a album release party with a lot of their friends and Zion invited you. But twenty minutes into the party Zion left you and was faded and tipsy.So you ended up taking an uber back home and went to sleep. Zion didn’t get a wink of sleep that night worrying about you.

[ To: Babie 🤧🧡 ]

Hm. Fine I’ll go but you better keep your promise.

[ From: Babie 🤧🧡 ]

I promise babygirl. The party isn’t until late around 8pm so I’ll come pick you up. I love you can’t wait to see your fine ass🥵

Rolling your eyes at his flirty remarks. One thing you can’t knock him for is he always reminds you how beautiful you are. Sitting your phone down you go back to the previous task, grabbing the glass and sticking it on the dispenser filling it half empty half full. Sipping on the ice cold water you make your way back to room deciding how you would kill two hours worth of time.

Waking up an hour and a half later you decided to go ahead and take a shower. While waiting for the water to heat up you grab your phone turning on your Bluetooth speaker to blare music for your invisible fans. First song to come up on shuffle was official girl by Cassie. You place your fingers in the shower feeling the warm water slide down your fingertips. Stripping out of your clothes you jump in the shower.

“You gotta love me in the light and the dark” you sung out loud. As you were singing the lyrics it resonated with your feelings towards Zion.After your quick shower you got dressed and did your hair in a style you loved. Looking at the clock wondering would Zion be on his way yet,It’s 7:30pm and he hasn’t sent a single text or call. Going to your messages you decide to text him.

[ To: Babie 🤧🧡 ]

Zion what time are you coming to pick me up?

Setting your phone back down, you grab your platform boots slipping them on and tying them up. Grabbing your favorite perfume brand lathering your body up in it. fifteen minutes later and you still got nothing from Zion. You launch the Instagram app seeing Zion posted on his Instagram 3 minutes ago a screen of his monitor and fortnite asking for someone to join the lobby.

You roll your eyes wondering why you even texted him in the first place, him and fortnite have a better relationship than you and Zion. You decided to text one of the members.

[ To: Raisin Bran ⛓ ]

Hey Brandon is the party still going on tonight?

[ From: Raisin Bran ⛓ ]

. yeah , we’re actually here where are you and Zion?

[ To: Raisin Bran ⛓ ]

‘Zion’ is on fortnite rn, ill be coming in uber please give me the address🙄

[ From: Raisin Bran ⛓ ]

. I mean you don’t have to come if you don’t want too.

It’s better to have fun, then being cooped up in the house doing nothing, what could go wrong? You though you yourself. Pulling your leather skirt down a little you stand up and place an uber order Your uber arrived twenty minutes later,On the way to the party you have been listening to music with occasionally conversations with the driver. Your phone vibrates, and from the vibrations you know who it is. And you dread wether you should reply or not.but deep down you know you can’t ignore him.

[ From Babie 🤧🧡 ]

Yo Sorry mamas I didn’t see your text.

[ From Babie 🤧🧡 ]

I’m coming to get your fine ass now🥵

[ To: Babie 🤧🧡 ]

No worries Zion lol, I’m catching a ride to the party.

[ From: Babie 🤧🧡 ]

Who’s takin you?

Ignoring his question you decide to screenlock your phone and enjoy the soft ride. The ride was about an extra twenty minutes to get there but it was a pleasant ride nevertheless

Getting out of the car you thank the driver and prepare yourself for the house full of sweaty young adults, blaring loud music and the smell of different strains of weed. Pulling your skirt down a little you walk up to the door ignoring the few whistles and hollers from the drunk guys falling around and laughing on the grass. Knocking on the door you await for anyone to open the door it was starting to get a little chilly outside. “Y/N?” Someone speaks in a puzzled tone. Turning your head around your eyes are met with nick, nodding your head you step off the steps to be engulfed in a hug.

“How are you, what are you doing here by yourself?” Nick questions

“Well I’m not by myself now am I ?” You joke sarcastically, nick shows his cheeky smile while opening the door for you. Upon your sight is a house filled to the rim of people, red solo cups scattered all over the floor, multiple groups of people playing games and kissing.

“Where’s Zion?” Nick asks, while the both of you walk into the kitchen, the constant questions of “Zion” is starting to agitate you more and more. You wanted to have fun and not think about Zion. Because frankly Zion hasn’t been thinking about you. Before you could answer nick’s question soft delicate caramel tattooed arms wrapped around your shoulders with a sweet scent of strawberries and mint leaves.

“I’m here” his voice hones in on your ear lobes, his lips reaching your temple slightly and rapidly before any one could catch eyes on it “hey mamas” Zion’s voice vibrates across your skin.

“Hi” you answer softly not really wanting to talk to him you’d hoped to avoid, nick offers you and Zion a drink grabbing the shot you swallow it down like it was water. Passing the shot glass over to nick for another round.

“Woah mamas slow down okay?” Zion mumbles from behind you with his hands firmly placed on you lower back. Ignoring his comment you drink down another shot earning a “wooo” from nick as he fires you up for your last shot of the day with a slice of lime from the fridge.

“Thank you nick” you smile eating the lime in one hand and firmly grasping the cold water bottle in the other. You turn around to say something to Zion but he’s gone in the back talking to someone. you decide it’s really time to have fun since you’re “single” in the dark. Before you could head over to the dance floor a guy walks up to you with a sheepish grin. His teeth were pearly white and aligned with each other not missing a single space or gap, his skin screamed Melanin “hello how are you?” He asks very politely.

“I’m fine and you?”

“Good if you’re breathing, I was wondering would you like to have a dance? If you don’t mind” he hesitates,not even thinking of an answer you grab his hand reporting to the dance floor. (A/N i thought about the lyric from you by Lloyd ‘And uh, I want all my sexy ladies to report to the dance floor immediately’ lol sorry I may have made you cringe)

you get on the dance floor dancing to the song that’s blaring through the speakers. Taking sips from another shot you grabbed on your way to the dance floor why not? You did say you wanted to have fun. Softly the mysterious man lays his hand on your hips digging his fingertips into your waist. Even though you knew you were with Zion. You wasn’t just going to grind up on some guy even though your devil shoulder told you too.

Zion finishes his conversation with a friend he used to know in Canada, now he was on his way to look for you trying to keep his promise of never leaving tonight. Meeting nick back at the kitchen his thick eyebrows knitted in confusion. Nick not wanting to hear the anger bounce off on him, he decides to point in the direction of you and the mysterious guy. Fuming with vexation, he squeezed the bottle in his hands until his knuckles turned white. Heading over towards the problem he grab you by your arm softly but cautiously. The guy stands back smirking at the sight of a jealous Zion. while you were a bit staggering from the four shots of alcohol you took.

“Hey chill out we were dancing and having a good time!” The guy slurs his words. You started to sober up slightly at the sight of Zion’s muscles in his jawline clenching on and off his knuckles turning ghostly white as he holds in every excuse to lay this guy out with his fists. His face almost beat red.

“Have a good time with someone else not her” Zion excuses the both of you guys away from him and into a quieter location, closing the door behind him Zion let’s out a groan of frustration as his fingers roam through the tangles of his dreads. “What the fuck was that y/n?!” Zion yells but not too aggressive because even though he’s mad at you, you’re still his baby and he’ll never disrespect you.

“What ? I can’t have fun? I mean I’m not your official girl anyways” you slur your truth with hidden sarcasm. You were tipsy and when you’re tipsy the truth comes out. And in the back of your mind you knew once the truth came out things were going to change.

“Y/n what the fuck are you talking about? , of course you are my girl mamas” his tone of voice changes obviously struck by your words, not wanting to look into his eyes with your glassy eyes, you turn your head, not even batting an eye at him, you just couldn’t your heart shattered even thinking of telling him how you felt.

“No I’m not Zion” you choke at your first sentence “I’m your friend, you know the girl who hangs out with you occasionally and comes in your Instagram lives, I’m the girl you say ‘Nah she’s the homie’ I’m not your fucking girl Zion, and it’s been that way for half a goddamn year!” You bark at him, Zion tries to reach for your hands but falls short as you pull them away from his reach “ if you don’t wanna be with me tell me. If you’re embarrassed by me tell me. Fucking give me something I’m tired of being your unofficial girl” you wipe your tears heading straight for the door but Zion blocks it.

“Wait Mamas listen,” his words fall short trying to bite back the tears, his whole world crashing down in front of his eyes “i couldn’t be so fucking proud to have you as my girlfriend, you don’t understand how happy I am to hold you in my arms every fucking day, how proud I am to have you in the studio with me because that’s the only way I can work faster, babygirl you are everything and more I’ve ever needed”

“Zion this secrecy is making me feel like I’m not good enough” your voice cracks filling the room up with icy cold tension. You’re trying so hard to stop crying but you can’t, all the bottled up feelings are just slipping through the cracks. Zion rapidly walks over to you to hold you in his arms. Your brain wants to push him off,but your heart wants to be held until your cries muffled into the music in the background. His slender golden fingers hold the back of your head while the other tightly on your lower back.

“I deserve more Zion, but I don’t wanna pressure you dear, but I’m tired, I’m tired” you speak into his trashed denim jacket. You pull out of his embrace. Walking towards the door, leaving Zion in the room with his thoughts. Passing by nick and Brandon as you wiped your tears, hearing their cries of your names just makes you regret even coming to this party in the first place. The guy you danced with earlier snatches your wrist in a halt just as you were about to grab the door knob, this day just couldn’t get anymore hetic you thought.

“Babygirl.. did he make you cry?” His eyebrows knit up in a bunch, you stumble over the cups placed on the floor snatching your arms at of the young man’s grasp not before you feel an arm around your shoulder engulfing your body into his chest. “Don’t touch her got that? She doesn’t belong to you” he grits his teeth, spitting the poison out on him “oh but she belongs to you?” The guy questions trying to provoke a fight with Zion.

“She doesn’t belong to anyone she’s her own woman, but we are dating and I don’t appreciate anyone treating her less than what she is, so if you want all your bones to be intact and still have teeth to eat with tomorrow I suggest you back the fuck up” your eyes look up at the flushed pinked tint that was painted across his face the slight flinch of his muscles in his jawline.

“Can we leave please?” You plead to him and instantly he grabbed your hand taking you out the party. The ride home was slient. So many things were going on, bottled up emotions were spilled and you just thought to yourself how awkward this would be in the morning. Zion opens the door for you following right after you in the cold house. Taking off your boots you curl up on the bed shaking as the goosebumps multipled on your skin. Zion walks over to you throwing the covers over your body tucking you in like a parent to a kid.

“Can we talk about this?” Zion says breaking the ice, letting out a choked hoarse sigh

“I’m afraid too” you speak barely above a whisper hoping he didn’t catch it.

“Well then listen to me” Zion grabs your legs placing them on his thighs so his fingers hook under your calves “ I’ve never been this deep in love, everytime I get really deep into a relationship something always fucks it up, and I didn’t want anything or anyone to break us up hence why I’ve been hiding us. Specially from the media. It’s a dog eats dog world out there mamas” his fingers tapping on your now timid skin “and I don’t want you to be hurt because of my job, or those whom support and love me, their opinions won’t matter to me I don’t give a shit but I don’t want you hurt babygirl I love your smiles earlier in the morning,” Zion chokes up “ I wanna keep seeing the crinkle in your nose as you curse the sun for being bright, have you re-twisting my dreads, your sudden outbursts of Disney soundtracks”

“I cherish all that shit mamas” Zion finishes like a heavy weight was lifted off his shoulder.

Your eyes begin to soften at how raw Zion is being right now. Zion was never the type to show his cards on the table. Everyone knew this. But seeing him fold like a deck of cards really breaks your heart. “I love our date nights where we just watch movies or play board games, cause it’s just us and no one to interrupt us or tell us how to love each other, but it seems I’ve hurt you more this way instead of the other way I was trying to protect you from. I’m sorry mamas” his Cinderella glass slipper eyes lays upon yours, shattering you into pieces

You never thought how hard it’s been on him to hide all of this or his reasons. You lean over to him placing your head on his chest. Playing with his fingertips. “It’s okay Zion, I understand now, I’m sorry for blowing up on you” his lips pressed on your head while his fingers caressed your waist. Your eyes slowly getting heavier and heavier before you could even hear his response. You dozed off, all the tears and alcohol felt like a melatonin. Zion took this opportunity to sneak a picture of his view to post on Instagram for the world to see. Showing you off was something he always dreamed off and right now seemed like the perfect time. “No mamas I’m sorry, but I’ll show you better than I can say it”

The next morning you woke up to your phone constantly blowing up by notifications, frowning you grab your phone deciding to put it on do not disturb until you see prettymuch fan account names liking and commenting on your posts, taking you on stories, your twitter was blowing up. Opening up Instagram you see Zion has tagged you in a post, smiling at his efforts you like the picture.

130,468 likes

zionkuwonu: I'll never diss you and I'll kiss you on your little pearl.

Maybe the talk needed to happen to move onto bigger things, before you could repost it to your story, The door swings up with Zion smiling bigger than his heart holding a teddy bear in one hand and roses and a self care basket the other. Sitting up against the headboard you accept them feeling the water build up in your eyes. “You’re right mamas, you deserve more” he leans over laying soft pecks against your lips. “And I will always give you more” his lips connect to yours again.

“So face mask night and a movie?” You squeak caressing his jawline

“It’s whatever you want to do babygirl” he mumbles, before taking another picture of you with the gifts.

You were now his official girl.

[damiensdemon]

It Wasn't Fate

Chapter 1 - Trust and Judgement

In… and out.

Russell stretched up on his tiptoes as he plucked a bottle of neon-blue soda from the interior of the mini-mart cooler. The store is silent, save for the electric buzz of the lights and the tinny pop playing from an unseen radio. Behind the counter, the attendant played on his phone as he numbly let the night slip by.

Russell shouldn’t have been out so late. He knew that. In the desert, it's common knowledge that home is the best place to be when the sun goes down. But, with exhaustion glazed over his features he couldn’t say no to the sugar-kick his body was craving. And, damn it, I’m a grown fucking man. What’s the point of being an adult if you can’t even over-caffeinate yourself at two in the morning!

... How much caffeine is in this thing, anyway?

Curiously, he began examining the label of his soda and let the cooler door swing shut. A loud thunk resonated through the store, making him jump. Self-consciously, Russell checked for witnesses. Fortunately, he was alone in the aisle. 

He caught his reflection in the glass cooler door. Behind him, someone appeared from the back of the store.

Just out of Russell’s natural line of sight, but captured in the reflection, a tall figure stood motionless. At this distance, their only discernible features were their height, their big dark sunglasses, and a plain medical mask.

None of that was particularly alarming. Plenty of people in that area would prefer not to be seen, including Russell. He was wearing a mask as well, though his own hair was a few inches shorter than the tall-one's dark mane.

Still, the stillness of their rigid posture made Russ's paranoia kick in. Am I in their way? But, why are they waiting down there, then…?

With a second look-over, Russ decided that rigid wasn't the right word. Despite their height, they were slouched. Their broad shoulders rose and fell with steady and deep breaths. Within the pocket of their stained hoodie, their hands were stationary.

No, this person was focused .

Russell tightened his grip on his soda, summoning up his courage. Then, he quickly turned around to look directly at them.

In the time it took him to find the spot the figure had been standing in, they were already gone. A shiver shot up his back, but with a roll of his shoulders, Russ dismissed his paranoia.

Here I am, getting all freaked out about someone standing around in a store, when I've been standing here staring at them .

With an exasperated sigh, he shook his head and made his way to the front of the store with his prize in-hand.

 

The exit chimed an optimistic farewell as Russ stepped out onto the street. The wind noisily hurried past him, rustling the plastic bag clutched in his grip. As he smoothed his hair out of his face, the faint thrum of music floated to him from the bar across the street. With the breeze urging him along, he began his walk home.

Before his mind could wander off completely, another sound found its way to his ears. It was nearly drowned out by the pounding bass, but a distinctive door-chime rang out from the store behind him.

The store with only one other customer in it.

Gripping his bag firmly, he kept his head down and walked faster. The pang of fear he felt was, more than likely, irrational. But that didn’t stop the sensations of eyes boring a hole into his back. Deep breaths. In, and out.

“-- for me?”

Over the wind, he heard a voice. Just the tail-end of a sentence. With dread building in his stomach, he hesitantly glanced toward the speaker.

Across the street, in front of the bar, a gaggle of assorted inebriates wave back at him. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting to see. He risked a glance toward the store, but found no sign of the tall person. With a soft sigh of relief, Russ turned his attention to the group.

“What was that?” He called out.

A ripple of laughter passed through them, and one repeated the initial question. “Whatcha got for me, sweetie ? Did you buy me something?”

Oh, no.

His face burned, and he stammered back,“I-... It’s a soda.”

“I wanna sip!” A different lad in the herd shouted. To his right, a less-drunk friend slapped him on the arm. Undiscouraged, he continued, “C’mon, honey, I’m thirsty! ”

Russell fumbled, shifting his weight between his feet. He opened his mouth to reply, but shut it again as the wind swept away the first syllable of his response. Taking it as a sign, he turned on his heel and walked away from the situation.

Behind him, he could hear little snippets of the men’s speech. What had initially begun as disappointed leering turned into playful threats, and more alarmingly, they were growing louder.

Closer.

Russ fought to swallow the tense knot in his throat as he prepared to break into a sprint.

I should have just stayed home .

“Hey! Slow down, we just wanna talk to you!”

He shut his eyes, hands balling into fists.

As if that’s the problem. I shouldn’t have to deal with this, just because I --

“ Stop. ”

This voice was different. It was commanding, nearly gravely. Russell’s heart stopped in its tracks, and so did his feet. His blood was ice as he forced himself to turn around and face it…

And found that it wasn’t directed at him. 

Between Russell and the approaching gaggle, an imposing figure stood firm. They had their back to him, but their stature is familiar. The person from the store…

For a long moment, the world stood still. The group silently watched the newcomer, and Russell remained rooted to the spot. His eyes darted between the back of their hood and their stiff-looking fingers by their sides. They remained tense, waiting for a reason to lunge at the drunkards.

Then, the tension breaks as one of the men laughed, slurring, “What’s your fuckin’ deal , dude?”

“Yeah, we’re just messing around. Chill...” Another chimed in.

Stiffly, the tall figure twisted around to make eye contact with Russell. Between his sunglasses and thick mane of hair, Russ caught a glimpse of the man’s eyes. His skin was pale, and his eyes were dark.

He gestured at the men, then croaked, “... D-... do you want them to follow you?”

Russ opened his mouth to reply, but his throat wouldn’t comply. Instead, he shook his head forcefully.

The man nodded, then turned back to the unwanted guests. “Please leave us alone.”

The same one who’d called out last time rolled his eyes, “Oh, or else wh- ”

One of his friend’s cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. The instigator gave him a confused look, before his friend whispered something to him.

Even in the dark, his face went pale. “... Oh . Fuck that.” He mumbled, putting up his hands.

"Whatever you want, kid. It’ll be your funeral.” Another shrugged, motioning for his group to follow him back to the bar. “It’s fucking freezing out here. Let's go."

Relief poured out of Russ’s body as they shuffled off. Still, his pulse pounded in his ears as he stared at the broad back of his savior.

Just in, and out. In, and out. Russell struggled to find a crumb of composure as the tall man finally turned around to properly face him.

In… and out.

The man shook the tension out of his hands, cleared his throat, then asked, “Are you okay?”

Russ nodded, throat still blocked by an invisible lump.

The stranger tilted his head as he observed the shorter guy from a respectful distance. It was impossible to tell exactly where he was looking through his glasses, which made Russell squirm in his skin.

“I’m Jeff.” He said abruptly, snapping Russ out of his thoughts. “Um… D-... Do you want me to walk home with you? I’m not busy or anything.”

Perhaps it was the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, but Russ found himself struggling to process the situation. Should I be scared...? He kept those assholes away from me, but… What if he has something worse in mind for me?

“I-if you don’t want me to, I won’t be offended. I just-...” He leaned in, whispering horsley with a nod toward the bar, “Y’know, I can wait here and keep an eye on them, too.”

Something about his tone, mannerisms, his energy … He came off as genuinely innocent. Not much about his expression could be discerned, but it was obvious that Jeff was doing everything he could to put Russ at ease. If he was being honest with himself, Russ was pretty sure that if the dude wasn’t a foot and a half taller than himself and built like a shit brickhouse, Jeff would come off as entirely harmless.

Finally, Russ found the strength to speak. “... Thank you. My name is Russell. Can... I ask you something?”

“Oh, of course!” Jeff replied eagerly.

“Why did you do that?”

He hesitated. Reflexively, his fingers found a lock of his black hair and began to toy with it. “Well… I guess, um…” He fumbled, “I’ve seen you… around , before. And, I worry about people, y’know? There’s a lot of bad folk in this area. So, when I heard those guys yelling at you, I thought that you might want some help.”

Russell nodded. “... Okay. Thanks for stepping in.”

“It was no problem. Why wouldn’t I?” He said, shrugging. “Gotta earn my keep somehow, heh…”

Russ grinned, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “... If you don’t mind, I wouldn’t mind if you walked with me.”

Under his mask, a wide smile stretched Jeff’s mouth. “O-of course! Thank you!” 

He laughed softly, “For what? You’re the one doing me a favor.”

“Just… trusting me, really.”

“It’s the least I can do.” Russ took a step back, “Let’s get moving. It really is fucking freezing.”

Jeff nodded giddily, following after him. “Lead the way!”

 

The two of them walked side-by-side, but Jeff kept a comfortable distance from his companion. He stayed close enough that he never left Russ’s field of view, but never quite came within arm’s reach.

With his hands shoved deep into his hoodie’s pocket, Jeff stared off ahead of them. Occasionally, he’d glance behind them, but never looked directly at Russell for long.

As they waited for an intersection to clear, Russ piped up. “Weird question, but… You don’t think I’m a kid, do you?”

“No, of course not. Why would a kid be out this late?” Jeff replied, amused.

“Just wondering. I know I have a baby-face, but like...  Y’know, I’m old enough to drink. I’ve voted twice. ” Russell elaborated, adding with a snort, “I’ve had people threaten to call my parents on me before. I haven’t lived with them for five years.”

Jeff made a deep, wheezy sound in response. A laugh, perhaps? The noise alone made Russ laugh along with him.

“I-I can’t relate to that, I’m sorry.” Jeff replies, “I haven’t been carded in over 20 years.”

“Really? How old are you?” Russ blurted, eyes flicking over his tall companion’s form. The best indication he could get of Jeff’s age was that one of his knees kept popping. Beside that, he was a peak physical specimen.

“Um… 38.” He admitted.

“Oh. Huh…” Russ muttered, surprised. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeff’s shoulders dipped forward.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

“... What for?”

“For, um. Being me, I guess.” He gestured vaguely at himself. “I know I’m scary to look at. Obviously.”

Russ responded quickly, “You shouldn’t apologize for that. Like, you can’t help being massive, or intimidating, or... whatever. And even if you could --”

“You haven’t even seen what I look like.” Jeff cut in, idly toying with his hair again. “I like how I look. But, y’know, some people assume a lot about you by your appearance.”

“Ahah, I get that…” Russ sighed, “I wish more people realized that stuff doesn’t matter. How you look doesn’t make you a bad person, or a good person. It’s your actions that matter.”

“Exactly. I try really hard to be good. ”

“I think you are. I mean, you deescalated a really nasty situation for me. That’s pretty good”

Jeff’s gaze was fixed on the sidewalk ahead of them as he listened. Russell’s eyes settled on the pink skin of his neck as Jeff idly scratched at it. The skin there was splotchy and shiny in places, much like his hand. It reminded Russ of a burn.

Russ cleared his throat, snapping himself out of his thoughts. “You know what? You remind me a little of my older brother.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Though… He might be a little taller than you are, actually.”

Jeff stumbled over an uneven slab of concrete, but recovered quickly. His stiff posture read to Russell as embarrassment.

“Th-... thank you. That’s really nice of you to say.” He murmured, shoving his stiff fingers into his pocket once more.

“Hardly. It’s common decency.” Russ shrugged dismissively, slowing his stride as he fished out his house key.

With his head tilted back, Jeffery took in the apartment building towering above them. “Nice place.”

“For a one-bedroom? It’s not too bad. I’d like it a lot if they ever fixed the elevator. And the stairs..” Russell griped, and again, Jeff laughed. It was such a genuine sound of happiness, it made Russ’s chest ache.

When the giggle died off, he coughed. “Well. Um… Thank you for letting me walk you home. It really means a lot to me.”

“No, really, thank you .” Russ stood on the second step to the entryway, turning to face the man on the sidewalk. “If you hadn’t been there, tonight might have been… kinda shitty for me.”

“It’s just common decency.” Jeff fired back, rolling his shoulders.

Even two-steps up, Jeff still had a few inches on Russell. He didn't want to make the larger man uncomfortable by staring at him, but he could see the excitement radiating off of Jeff's body.

[skekshroom]

salt in the wound

modern/Thra-earth coexistence AU Tw: NSFW mentioned, violence, intoxication, swearing 

[SkekTek x reader]

Sitting alone in a studio apartment was becoming a living hell for SkekTek. He denied the urge to get out, instead going for a smoke on the balcony. The balcony was the only redeeming perk of this shit poor apartment he hated so much. In the night air, the moon glared at him, the one thing visible in the sky behind all the light pollution. It wasn’t even that late, but he still got the indescribable feeling that he shouldn’t be up at this hour.

SkekTek snorted and took a drag. What did he need to rest up for? That new hotshot everyone kept talking about had already run him out of his office and got him moved to the other side of the facility. It wasn’t like work tomorrow was going to be anything of glamour. The skeksis couldn’t get past a puff of the cigarette, letting it burn untouched in his fingers. If he wanted something to inhale, he could always just breathe in the black mold that pervaded every other room behind the peeling walls. SkekTek glanced at the sickly yellow incandecent light. No matter how many times he replaced the bulb or thrifted a new 3 dollar lamp, the room never felt bright enough, never illuminated completely. It would be a waste of money to keep trying, so he let it stay. Dim and the color of drunken piss.

Sid was asleep in her cage, and didn’t hear him rummage through his splintered dresser and put on some clean clothes. He slipped out the door into the night. Maybe he’d find his motivation out there, somewhere. He’d been holed up inside every hour of the day for weeks typing his papers and living off ramen and cereal until his kidneys pleaded for someone to take them the fuck out already.

SkekTek walked down the wide sidewalks, the sauntering shapes of humans, skeksis, gelfling, and podling all a river he waded through. He glanced at all the people. A podling and a tall gelfling, probably human blooded, laughed and talked. A skeksis swore at her phone and looked around, giving directions to the stately cafe that she sat in front of. A human in see-through chiffon and not much else waited in line at the nightclub. 

He got in line behind them, clearly out of place in a queue of Chanel thigh highs and gold chokers. He was a disheveled scientist living off whatever money came in from the advancements he made and none of the happiness.

The loud music did a good job at washing out his thoughts and forecasted a headache incoming either in an hour or the next morning. So when a nameless human struck up a conversation with him he didn’t really care what came out of his mouth. Its not like you could hear him with PNAU blasting through the speakers. With how dark that corner of the club was, he couldn’t even see much of you. When you leaned in close, the scent of you was so familiar, so invigorating, he practically melted into it. The rest of the night was a blur.

SkekTek woke up at home to a dreadful cold. He groped around for his blankets, wondering how the hell they fell off of him. His talons hit something big and firm. The skeksis’ face dropped and his head slowly fell to the side to see you sleeping there. That nameless human... he brought home. Memories rushed back to him. Kissing you in the back of the lift, your lips on his neck as he fumbled with his keys. His face heated up and he buried it in his hands.

Thra, did he really need this? Sure, the scientist woke up with much less of a headache than he should, and he felt refreshed all tings considered. Sure, maybe the sex was the best he had in ages and he wished he could remember more of it. But was it worth the awkward morning after? Maybe if he pretended he was asleep, you’d just grab your shoes and leave. SkekTek quickly shut his eyes as he felt you stir and sit up. You groaned softly, he heard you shift about as you looked around, and the weight of the bed lift as you got up, muttering to yourself.

Against his better nature, he cracked open one eye. Just to see what you looked like in the morning. He immediately regretted it.

Not because you were ugly or not his type. No, the sight of you collecting your clothes and yawn sent a spark into several parts of him. The disheveled look of your hair made his claws twitch with how badly he wanted to run his fingers over that rat’s nest. He blamed the hormones and the smell of whatever you sprayed on yourself for why every blemish was having him feel some type of way, why he wanted to tell you to wait a second and get your name.

But none of that is why he regretted looking. It was because he already knew your fucking name. He knew so much about you because nobody could shut the fuck up about you.

 You were the bastard that took his fucking job.

You looked over your shoulder at his now wide eyes and did a double take, the color draining from your face as you clutched your shoes.

The two of you locked eyes for many moments, saying nothing.

“Umm... G’morning.” You croaked awkwardly.

SkekTek felt like he might faint.

He already regretted waking up today.

[fics-not-tragedies]

In a Week: Chapter 14 🌲

It’s a beginning to a quite major break point for this story and I hope you’re still hooked by it somehow.

Words: 3054; Warnings: none, unless you want another warning for smoking then you have it; Summary: Andrew surprises Flo by showing her one quite magical place.

Hozier tag list:

@letoursilencebreaktonight​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​; @angelpeachamber​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​; @sgt-morgan​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​; @julessbrown​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​;

Monday, 11pm

Flo felt Andrew’s hand press against the small of her back to guide her out of the restaurant. There was a slight gape in the fabric at the back of her dress and his palm conveniently found that spot, fingers brushing against her silken skin. The heat from his hand made her skin tingle and she looked away bashfully, hoping it wasn’t too obvious. Up until this very moment she made some accusatory comment about him touching her like that purely as a defense mechanism, but she couldn’t bring herself to quip at him for fear he’d move his hand away from her and never touch her again. She also noticed the way people were looking at her when she was this close to him, probably assuming like everyone else in the hotel had that they were a couple, their walk out of the restaurant drawing all of the attention. She quickly blamed it on her drunken haze, but there was something she found undeniably quite exciting about that.

Now out of the restaurant, they stepped out into the seemingly never ending corridor. With only a few steps, the cushion carpet was already proving a struggle for her heeled feet and it didn’t help that she was wobbling a little from the alcohol she’d consumed at dinner. Noticing her struggle, Andrew took his hand from where it was nestled against her lower back and enveloped hers to pull her along like it was natural now. Neither of them were slightly fazed by it.

“Where are we going?” She sighed.

“It’s a surprise” he replied, eyes shining wildly under the yellow bulbs on the walls, “Please be patient, love.”

“I don’t do surprises” she pouted.

Music was playing in the corridor, something with a beat that Andrew had definitely heard and if Flo hadn’t she was at least pretending to, trying to dance even when she walked, her rhythm completely off balance, mouthing the lyrics a little sloppily.

“Lightweight…” Andrew laughed under his breath, loud enough so that she could definitely hear.

“I am not!” She replied instantly, looking to her side at him, fire in her eyes.

“So you’re not drunk, Flo?” He asked, scrunching his nose up at her.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, show me a proof that you’re not.”

She stopped walking for a second, waiting for inspiration to strike her. Andrew chuckled at the way she scrunched her face up in thought. She was clutching at his hand and squeezed it at her light-bulb moment, overjoyed she thought of something at last.

“I can do a cartwheel…” she announced proudly, giggling, swaying her shoulders as she spoke.

“You can?”

“Mhm…” she said, nodding quickly and confidently.

“Prove it” he chuckled, raising one eyebrow at her. She looked down at their entwined hands just as Andrew let go.

“Alright, hang on…” Flo lifted her feet to slip off her heels, handing them to Andrew to hold on to. He took them and her clutch graciously and looped the straps at the back around two of his fingers, swinging them as he stepped back to make room for her acrobatic performance. She painted her toenails a sparkly purple that made Andrew think of deep space. His eyes drifted shamelessly from her feet all the way up her legs, across her thighs and over the curve of her ass as he watched her mentally prepare for her trick. He hadn’t considered himself drunk until this moment.

Flo stretched her arms like a mock athlete, focused too much on that to even see Andrew observing her. He settled his gaze a little further up now, wanting to kiss along the smooth skin of her neck, delighted by the little twitches in her face as she thought, the dimple in her left cheek, the way she flicked her hair over her shoulder a little dramatically. The music thudded still, the second chorus of the song that was playing booming over the speakers. She took a deep breath, cursing the reckless bravery she always found to impress him because she hadn’t done a cartwheel in years and was frankly unsure she’d be able to do it now. Then, without warning, Flo suddenly lunged out to the side, kicking off the ground, her legs wide in the air, almost flashing Andrew from the way her dress had moved, but it was too quick of a descent for that opportunity to arise. She landed well, if a little wobbly, on her feet, then threw her arms up triumphantly.

Andrew clapped her joyously, with as much energy and volume as he could whilst still holding her shoes.

“Well, now I’m more impressed than I already was” Flo beamed foolishly and took a mock bow, unsure why something so stupid had made her so happy, “Are you alright, love?” He questioned as she staggered back towards him, struggling to put one foot in front of the other.

“Yep. I feel fine. Great actually. Bit dizzy though.”

Andrew steadied her with two strong hands on her shoulders, the heels wrapped around his fingers knocking a little against her back.

“Look at me” he mumbled, tilting her chin upward and bringing her face close to his, waiting for her eyes to focus, trying to check more than anything that she was okay.

“Aren’t you drunk, Andrew?” She purred, tilting her head and licking her lips as she spoke. Andrew chuckled thickly and pulled away when she seemed stable enough.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not… Maybe you’ll never know.”

“I think you are” she giggled, stepping ahead of him and continuing down the corridor, enjoying the new song that just began to play.

Andrew focused on steadying himself, giddy on merely the idea of her. He was enchanted by her new found happiness, the burning, bright passion for life he helped install in her. He found himself in awe of her childish giggling, the way she threw her head back laughing like everything was exciting and utterly hilarious. He couldn’t help but lose his mind at the angle of her hips as she pranced down the corridor a couple of feet ahead of him.

And that’s when he heard it. A song. His song.

The pace of his walk slowed dramatically, face dropping, rigid with panic, but Flo had barely noticed, tipsily wiggling to the thudding music. She was spinning her arms around wildly, her dress hitching up further than she’d have liked at the back when she did, her hair swaying as she bounced with the sound of the bass. And after only four paralyzing seconds, his own voice echoed from the speakers like a curse.

“Honey, this club here is stuck up

Dinner and diatribes

I knew well from our first hookup

The look of mischief in your eyes”

“I like this song” she proclaimed, her hips swaying intoxicatingly to the music. Andrew licked his lips. He was dreaming, had surely lost his mind. But here she was, the woman of his dreams, singing and dancing drunkenly to one of his songs, with absolutely no idea who he was, “Thaaaaat’s the kind oof looooooove…” she sang under her breath.

As he watched her, he toyed with the possibilities in his mind, how to break it to her, whether he should be direct or gentle with it and if he was going to break the dreaded news, what he could possibly say to justify hiding the truth for so long. He realized just how much of a sign this was, his own music playing at that specific moment and he was washed over with the realization than he was more than ready to share everything with her now. Her kind eyes and heart of gold were too pure to conceal himself for another second.

“This is my song” he mumbled, at last, his throat dry.

“What?!” She exclaimed, her dance coming to an end, much to his dismay. She turned back to him with a ferocity. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open and he loved the way her hair was still swinging to the beat, a life of its own entirely.

“This is my song” he repeated, swallowing nervously. It was the moment he dreaded, had re-enacted a million times over in his head in a million torturous ways, but here she was all bright eyed, grinning uncontrollably, no reservation or negativity in the way she looked at him.

“Andy!” She shrieked, storming forward and throwing her arms around him, enveloping him in a warm embrace, her fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt as she pulled away. She mock swatted him in the chest, “You prick! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well I told you I’m Andrew Hozier Byrne, so…” he grumbled, unnerved by his own voice echoing around them, “I didn’t wanted to dip deeper into it, so em, you wouldn’t change your opinion about me…”

“Why would I change my opinion?” She asked only partially offended, “I think it’s fantastic! I want to hear all about it!” Andrew shook his head at her like he couldn’t quite believe she was real.

“So yeah, I’m that Hozier…”

“Hozier…” she repeated after him, humming the song still with a sense of familiarity. “I knew I’d seen your face somewhere. I’m just rubbish with celebrity stuff.”

“Oh, bloody hell” he groaned, realizing her fingers were still on his collar, “Please don’t call me that way.”

“What?”

“Don’t call me a celebrity.”

“Alright, alright” she mumbled, letting go of his shirt at last and turning back to his side to walk with her.

“Oh, let there be hotel complaints and grievances raised

And that kind of love

(That’s the kind of love

That's the kind of love

That's the kind of love

That's the kind of love)

Oh, let there be damage ensued and tabloid news

And that kind of love…”

“So you’re proper famous?”

“Define ‘proper famous’…”

“You know, rich and successful alternative rock God...” she began, pursuing her lips, “lots of girlfriends, lots of sex. Drugs. Messy parties and trashed hotel rooms. Oooooh! Is your hotel room trashed? Can I see?”

“No my hotel room isn’t trashed” he grumbled, rolling his eyes at her. He held on to her hip with his free hand as they walked side by side, slowly.

“But everything else was true?”

“And I don’t have loads of girls, em, we already had that conversation…”

“I’m just teasing you” Flo sighed, sensing his irritation, reaching up to pat his cheek affectionately. He smiled back, her soft fingertips soothing him a little.

Dinner & Diatribes stopped playing and something else started, something mellow which made most of Andrew’s built up tension fade. He noted how nothing had really changed, how she hadn’t shunned him or said anything to suggest she was disappointed in him for keeping his secret. He couldn’t help, but hurry after her.

Monday, 11:05pm

Flo had reached the end of the corridor now, a dead end with nothing but a window. She looked over her shoulder, confused, as if to ask Andrew where she was supposed to turn now.

“We’re here…” he announced still pacing towards her.

“What do you mean we’re here?”

Outside the window Flo could make out a few buildings in the distance and a dark sky, speckled with a few stars which had decided to show themselves at last. There were some metal steps with a twisted railing and as she put the pieces together, she looked back at Andrew again, regarding him as if he were crazy. Andrew tiptoed around her, placed her shoes down for a moment and with one confident movement clicked and slid the window open wide, holding it with a suggestive grin. There was a slight breeze which swept Flo’s hair back and made her blink a couple of times.

“We’re going up.”

“Yes, but after we die… not right now.”

“Yes, we are.”

“For fuck sakes” she muttered, peering further out into the dark fearfully. “Have you been up there before? Is it safe? Are the stairs old? Am I going to fall and die?”

“Yes, yes, yes, no” he countered, answering her questions as quickly as possible, entertained by her predictable overthinking, “C’mon, do this for me, please?”

She grimaced at him, still unsure, then rolled her eyes and stepped closer to the window to check whether or not she trusted the stairs. It was the excitement on his face and the idea of never knowing what might’ve happened - she couldn’t help herself.

“Where does this lead to then?”

“You’ll see…” he mumbled with a teasing shrug, “I’m not going to spoil you all the fun. Are you curious now?”

“Yeah…” she sighed, biting her lip as she stared out of the window dubiously, simultaneously hating and loving how well he could read her, “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Andrew grinned at her appreciatively and stepped out of her way, holding the sticky window frame up.

“I’m right behind you, love…”

Flo tried to process how she was going to be elegant, her dress too short for much decency and he chuckled watching her try to pull it down as far as she could. She bent down and straddled the window, throwing one leg outside of the frame, her bare foot already cold. A couple of strands of hair were falling over his forehead into his eyes and he was struggling to see through them properly. Without processing it first, she slicked them back for him and he smiled in a far off, dreamy way.

Needing to distract herself, quickly, she swung the other leg out and stood up, pulling her dress back down again. She tested the steps with one foot, relieved when they didn’t shudder under her weight and began to walk up them, taking her time, focused on putting her steps in the right place. She was too intoxicated for this. Andy picked up her shoes and began to copy her exact movements, throwing one leg over the window ledge uncomfortably.

“Andrew?” She called after only a second, turning back to him before she disappeared out of view. She sounded frantic and panicked as if she had been suddenly struck with something important. He was closer to her than she’d imagined when she spun back to him, leaning halfway out of the window, faces only inches apart.

“Yes, love?” He replied, unblinking. She tried not to look at his lips.

“I uh - I just want you to know that you don’t have to justify or explain anything to me. I liked you before I knew who you were and that’s not gonna change” she gave him her best reassuring smile, the stain her lipstick had left making her teeth dazzle under the starlight.

“Thank you, Flo” he almost whispered.

Satisfied, she turned around and started climbing again. Her hands were visibly shaking as she clutched at the rail. Shaken himself by her words, Andrew dropped the widow closed behind him and making sure it didn’t lock behind them, got to his feet, following her up.

“I know you’re staring at my ass” she stated when she heard the meal clang below her, wiggling her hips enticingly.

“That’s pure torture…” he grumbled, trying to divert his gaze.

Monday, 11:10pm

Once Flo was at the top, she took a big step out onto what she quickly realized was the roof of the hotel. The air felt thicker somehow, like velvet and she stumbled forward and took in the picture directly above her. The sky was a deep midnight blue that could have almost been black. Every corner of the canvas as far as she could see was pricked with dots and splatters of white light from the stars, all part of bigger constellations, weaving in and out of each other. The moon was a perfect crescent, high above them and she laughed at how incredible it was, having never seen a sky this dramatic.

Andrew was completely still, watching her with her head tilted back, laughing at the sky like it meant more to her than she could’ve put into words. He smirked as she turned around, her features lit in moonlight.

“I’ve never seen the sky this clear before” she announced, “The stars look so different here, you can see everything…”

“The light pollution is non existent here…” he replied, struggling to think of something better to say. He should’ve rehearsed. He was so lost. He pointed to the buildings in the distance, “it’s all because outside of town.”

“Right” she said, nodding, an equally challenging smirk pulling through her lips. “Does your light pollution line work on all the girls?”

“Only you, so far” he grinned.

The floor was patio-ed leading up to a small gazebo area with a couple of fluorescent string lights. A bench was pushed against the wall and there was an open door leading presumably back down into the hotel. Flo noticed that and turned back to Andrew.

“You mean to tell me that I didn’t have to climb up those shitty fire escape steps? I could’ve come through an actual door?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He asked.

“How did you even find this place?”

Andrew crossed to the bench, putting down her shoes, “Got bored before you showed up yesterday and I just went exploring.”

“It’s really pretty up here” she whispered, her voice sounding a little tipsy as it came out. “Do you think anyone knows this place exists?”

“I bet the staff does, but it seems like, em, no one has really been up here in a long time” Flo nodded, biting her lip, “Would you mind if I have a smoke?”

“Go on then…” she replied with a shrug.

Andrew lit up quickly, standing in a position so that the wind would blow the smoke away from her rather than into her face. The stars shone behind him and illuminated his eyes, the stray strands of hair dropping into his eyes again. The collar of his white shirt was slightly crinkled by her hands. He exhaled and watched the grey wispiness disappear into the air again, scratching his nose, unaware of how intensely she was watching him now. She never got bored of watching him, the way he made everything look so effortless, like an art form.

[vinummagicae]

weeks have turned to months and your journey to olympus, your acceptance of your life as a demigod, has lead up to this moment. it's been brutal, wrought with pain and close calls, thick with loss, but you've endured. as you begin to get ready to sleep, winding down for the night, something inside of you feels different. there's a strength that grows that you only dimly knew was there before. you feel stronger, faster, more attuned to your senses and your own inner power. if you ever doubted that you might have divine blood in your veins before, now, more than ever, you feel it. 

as soon as your head hits the pillow you fall fast asleep, exhausted from the events that have lead up to this point. who knows however long later, you "awaken". you're not where you fell asleep, nothing is as it was when you slept. you have to blink a few times but you realize that you're in a place that seems familiar to you. describe this place? what does it look like, sound like, smell like?

Opening his hazel eyes, Ender looked around to see that he was no longer in the tent fast asleep next to the son of Apollo, but instead standing. The lights were bright and shining down at him in a way that blinded him temporarily. Raising a hand to cover the lights as his eyes got  adjusted to the sudden brightness, it took a few times of blinking before he could make sense of where he was. Standing in the middle of a stage, he was facing an auditorium where every red velvet upholstered seat lied empty. Glancing to his left and then right, Ender soon realised that he was alone standing there in the middle of the stage, in fact he was the only one from what he could tell in the building. He had been in this room before, several times in fact but never on this stage. He had sat in the mezzanine when he came to see Hamilton with his best friend, Cole, and years before that sat front and center as he watched Romeo and Juliet be performed here. It had always been his dream to stand on this stage - or any stage in Broadway -  to take the shape of a character and drop his old skin for a few hours but he never got to live that dream. Smiling to himself, the drunken demigod took a deep breath and inhaled the familiar scent of the theatre, they all smelled the same to him, and relaxed instantly. It smelled like home.  

the auditorium is as beautiful as you remember it. the overhead lights beam down on you and send your shadow in almost all directions. 

the air is filled with the familiar scent of hardwood and red velvet. even with the seats empty, you can feel the thrill of a performance thrumming beneath your veins. 

then you hear someone or something clearing their throat. you could’ve sworn this place was empty, except for you. you look around, hazel eyes trying to find the source, and see a figure sitting in the front row, directly center. the bright lights make it hard to see through but they shift to illuminate the figure. 

who or what do you see? describe what they look like and how they make you feel.

It was almost as if he could tell who was sitting there in the front row from the second he heard that familiar clear of a throat. How many times have he heard it directed towards him when he knew he was to be scolded for ‘not acting his age’ or whatever else the fine dressed man felt like getting onto him about that day/week/month. Taking a heavy sigh that he could feel throughout his whole body, Ender closed his eyes for a second almost as if he kept them close then he wouldn’t be able to see the white haired man sitting there, glaring at him and judging him for wanting this in life. Wanting to feel the thumm under his skin and pretend he wasn’t the same person that he was outside of this building-- There was one person who hated Ender McKenzie more than he did himself, and it was the man sitting there front and center. He could almost hear him say ‘Edward’ before he even had the chance to do so. Roger, his step father, never called him by the nickname he had given himself before he even met the guy, deciding that nicknames weren’t professional or some other bullshit. Then again nothing Ender ever did was in Roger’s agenda for the life he had planned for him.  Yet he always said he never wanted to be a father figure for the young child when he first married his mother. It seemed he just wanted to control him instead. Wanting a carbon copy of his real son-- someone to take over the business when he retired, who was married to a pretty little blonde and had a couple of kids. Big shock to him when Ender came out gay. Though it wasn’t really a shock when a kid grew up dreaming of standing on a stage like this, singing musicals around the house and talked about how Harrison Ford was handsome now was it? 

“Can you just not?” Ender asked before the voice could even speak, pinching the bridge of his nose; the feeling of safeness he felt just seconds before when he realized where he was standing was now gone. Then again Roger always was the best at stripping him raw, exposing who he was really on the inside and then leaving him bleeding out expecting Ender to stitch himself back up again and be the person he wanted the drunken demigod to be. Too bad for his step-father, it never worked out that way. 

roger sits there poised, hands resting on the arm rests, eyes focused on you. he doesn't react when you speak, only stares for what feels like an endless moment. this is the man who would turn you into a fraud, who would rip the happiness from your hands and turn you into a reflection of himself and his son—who would take your individuality and your freedom of self away just so HE could find some ounce of happiness. 

a smile curls along his lips and he brings his hands to rest in front of his chest, fingertips resting against fingertips. 

he opens his mouth to speak and you can't hear anything at first. the sound of the clearing throat is gone and instead it's replaced by something that sounds muffled. you can see him, he's only a couple dozen feet away from you, maybe, but trying to hear him and identify what he's saying is as if he's screaming from hundreds of feet away. 

you strain your ears to listen and then it all clicks into place. the voice is audible as if he's standing right beside you, talking into your ear. 

what is the voice you hear? does it belong to roger? is it someone else's? describe what you hear and how that voice makes you feel.

For a second, Ender is relieved. He can’t hear him and it makes him chuckle some. It almost feels like he is a young child sticking his fingers into his ear to avoid listening to their parents scold them. Though the feeling doesn’t last long and soon the familiar voice fills his ears--

It’s a deep and rumbling voice. More bass than baritone as if he was constantly grumbling or growling in his direction. Which he usually was in Ender’s case. It was one that could always fill him with dread.

The first time he was scared of that voice was when Roger sat him down and told him he was going away for a bit and wasn’t coming back until he was better. He was fifteen and it was also the first time he screamed out loud for his real father not knowing who he was or why he was calling out for the greek god. Just that he was scared and didn’t want to ‘go get help’ when he was perfectly fine. The second time he was scared of that deep voice was when he came out of the closet. He hadn’t been home from the psychiatric hospital for long before he came out of the closet - though again it wasn’t that much of a shock for everyone -. Ender still had the scar on his chin from that day that he hides under the slight stubble he always wears now. There had been other times he had been scared of that voice, never knowing what was to come from it. Too many times to count actually and he had given up trying by the time he hit twenty-one and could ‘legally’ drink. Alcohol always helped when it came to his step-father. He learned that at young age.

When the man speaks this time it’s one word, the word Ender had expected him to say before he even opened his mouth and the relaxing exhale he had taken moments before was gone and replaced with tension. As if someone had wound up every muscle in his body and he was ready to snap. All over one fucking word. “Edward.” 

Gods he hated that name. 

"edward," roger says once more, the voice a deep bass, a growl that rumbles through the speakers of the auditorium as if he's hooked up to a microphone. "i've been waiting for you." 

he doesn't move from his spot, still sits there with his eyes focused on you as if he's trying to gauge who you are now to who you were then. there's the unseen scars that linger beneath the surface, hidden away from sight from everyone but you. but he's the reason many of those exist. 

"you've kept me waiting." he says, finally standing up. he seems taller than you remember, towering over you even from his seat in the front row. "that disappoints me."

Was he always that tall or did he just have that way of making himself appear that way to him? Ender couldn’t remember, perhaps it was because when he still looked at him he felt like the 15 year old boy that was being told he was going away against his will. The man towered over him then and continued to do so even when he hit his own growth spurt that now made him over 6 feet tall. Yet the man before him could make him feel like he was 2 feet tall…

Sometimes never changed. 

“I thought I always disappointed you,” Ender said with ever so slightly a quiver to his voice at his words. Cursing himself he told himself to get a grip, to not let fear show as he planted his feet firmly on the ground of the stage. He had faced ogres and huge ass wasps and came out alive. He could face his step-father. Right? He hoped so anyway.

“What do you want? Can we make this quick? I have someone to get back to.” 

"always is a strong word, edward." 

roger moves from his seat and begins to walk along the long, almost endless row of red velvet seats. when he gets to the aisle, he stops to stare at you, hand resting on one of the large backs of the seats. the spotlight follows him, follows him for every step he takes. 

"we have as much or as little time as you may need, edward. i have waited this long, even if it displeases me. but you know about causing upset and unrest, don't you? what is it about you that makes you so rebellious?"

Ever the narcissist he tries not to be, Ender’s jaw clenched when the spotlight started to follow the older man. Here stood a man who made sure in his power that he could not end up on stage for a living, was now taking _his_ spotlight from him. Oh the irony was not lost on him and he added it to the list of many things why he hated this man. 

“Rebellious?” It was the first time in a long time, Ender actually laughed around the man and it was dry and bitter. "Who? Me?" 

It was a rhetorical question and they both knew it. Ender could count on one hand how many times this man had to bail him out of jail and pay the cops off just because he was hanging around the wrong crowd again. How many times his mother and him told Ender they had a fund set aside for his funeral because all three of them knew that it was only a matter of time before his coke and alcohol addictions caught up to him and they got the call that he was dead somewhere. None of them expected him to make it to the age of 30 and, well,  look at him now. 

“Why do you even want to know?” Ender asked as he began to pace back and forth on the stage, his hazel eyes staying on Roger the whole time. “Why do you even care? You made it abundantly clear over the years you were never a father to me, though you sure did try to punish me like one. Every little thing I did wrong you were there to make sure it was known how displeased you were with me.” Pacing from stage left he moved towards stage right before asking yet again, "Why do you care? No one cared what happened to me, no one ever cared about me except--” Except Cole. This made him stop, eyes going wide as he was hit with the realization of what he had done all over again. How he toyed the boy around for years, playing with his feelings, using him for sex until the day his best friend told Ender how he really felt. No he wasn’t going there right now. Not ever. “So I will ask you again, what do you want?” 

"i want your honesty, i want to know who you are." 

it's a strange thing coming from the man who, for so many years, never wanted to know who YOU were but only wanted you to be what HE wanted. he walks to the edge of the stage and the spotlight begins to flicker in and out, as if it can't stay lit for too much longer. you watch as roger raises a hand, waves it to the stage in a dismissing wave—a practiced one, you remember how easily he dismissed you when he was done with you—and you're no longer on the stage, but sitting in the same seat you sat when you saw hamilton, but you feel as if you can see the stage and every thing about it like you were still standing there. 

you blink a few times and realize that roger is sitting beside you. the stern face, the disappointed set of his jaw and eyes, isn't there. his eyes don't even look like his, you realize. but someone else's, someone kind. 

do you recognize the eyes? who do they belong to? 

"i only want you to be honest with me and yourself." roger says. 

"who are you?"

“Who are you?” It was a question Ender had asked himself so many times in his life; growing up, school, college, even now. There were moments he stared at himself in the mirror at camp and asked that to his reflection and the answer was always the same. “I am weak.” He didn’t glance at the pair of eyes but kept them on the stage wishing he was back up there. Where he belonged to be. It was like a magnetic pull inside him, trying to get him to go back up there but he couldn’t move. “I am weak.” He said again with a shake of his head, gripping the armrests of his seat to the point his fingers were turning white from his grip on them. “I am a high functioning alcoholic who only hurts the people who love him.” He hurt Cole. He hurt Greyson. Who knows who else he would hurt if they got close enough? Perhaps that is one reason he kept his distance and didn’t get too close to anyone at camp. Sure he would talk to them but why bother opening up if he was just going to leave them for his own selfish needs? 

“I am someone who doesn’t deserve love. I am someone who never expected himself to make it to the age of thirty, yet here I am and what for? Why am I still alive?” His voice cracked at the confession and before he knew it the rest came tumbling out of him like a river bursting through a dam. “It’s why I spend most nights high or drunk. I wanted to die. I spent so many of my years of my life never expecting it to get this far and what for? So I could be some kind of champion for a guy who never once offered to help me? Fuck that! Why should I help him when he didn’t help me every time I called out for him?  When I needed him the most he was nowhere to find and now that he is missing I have to drop my life and help him!?” 

Ender was all but screaming now as he spoke, his chest rising and falling as the emotions flowed through him. It wasn’t until he turned to look at the man sitting next to him he realized that the eyes were no longer Roger’s ice blue ones but someone else’s. They looked familiar like he had seen them pass by on a street or a party once but can’t place a name to who they belonged to. Though if he had to guess it was a female’s. Yet as he gazed upon them he felt oddly at ease, the rage and pain that had been filling up inside him at the question was gone. Instead it was more sadness as he asked-- “Who am I supposed to be? Because I have no idea anymore...I just know I don’t want to be weak anymore. I don’t want to die anymore and that scares me more than anything.” 

for a long time after you speak, roger stares at you. every time your voice rose, every time you were almost screaming, he didn't flinch away from you or tell you to be quiet. he didn't scream at you to shut up and stop complaining about the life you have. 

no, he only listens.

then, calmly, he begins to speak once more, still staring at you as if he sees into the deepest, darkest parts of you; as if he's shining a light on the places you wish no one to go. 

"it takes great strength to continue fighting, to persevere regardless of circumstance. it takes strength to still fight a fight for someone who never fought for you." from his hand, he produces a bushel of grapes and offers you one. "but maybe you don't do this for him, maybe you're here because you didn't want to die long ago and this was an option to allow you to live." 

he pops a grape in his mouth unceremoniously and peers at you through his lashes. "you are whoever you wish to be, ender. the world is a stage and you are an actor. you can pretend to be whoever you wish or finally be who you ARE."

hearing roger's voice and seeing roger's mouth form the name ENDER hits you like a brick. what emotions does it bring out of you?

“Is it fair for me to be selfish like that?” Ender asked reaching out to accept the grape because fuck he needed something right now. Even if it was just a small nectar filled grape, it was better than being sober for this. “Everyone else seems to actually want to help their birth parent and here I am not caring at all that he is missing. Is that wrong of me? Does that make me weaker than them?” Every time he stepped in front of a creature or person he was expected to fight, he wasn’t frightening for Dionysus but a chance for another day to live. And maybe all along he knew that deep down, that he had come to camp not to die like he thought but a chance to live like this version of his step-father suggested. Those pitch black eyes peered into his soul a bit more as he felt the grape pop in his mouth and released the nectar that he craved. It wasn’t until the slip of _Ender_ came out that he knew for sure this wasn’t his step-father as much as he had spent most of his life longing to hear that name fall from Roger’s lips. A sign that the man finally accepted him for who he was. The drunken demigod knew better than to get his hopes up and realized, finally, that it didn’t matter if Roger accepted him or not. He no longer lived to please or make him happy with his life choices. It wasn’t who he was anymore. It will never be who he is again now that he had a taste of what he could do. The strength his younger self never knew was deep inside him longing to be set free. If he had discovered it fully back then would he have killed the man out of rage and pent up energy? Ender didn’t dwell on the answer, knowing too well what it would be. 

Yes.

“Who are you? You are not him, I know that now. Why bring me here?” Ender asked, reaching for another grape missing his own bunch he kept on him at all times. 

"to have reservations is human. some maybe slipping into immortality quicker than you and that is alright." roger says, his voice a low rumble that still catches over the speakers of the theatre. "everyone's journey is different, that's what makes life beautiful. eventually, you will come to know your father and understand him. but if you shut him out entirely, this life—" he waves to the stage and then toward you. "would be gone entirely."

"i'm not him as you are now who he has tried to make you." roger stands, fingers moving to the bannister to look out over the stage. "i am an echo of your father's power, here to test your resolve. you are strong willed, son of dionysus." he tips his head toward you. "ender." his pitch black eyes almost turn as red as wine before shifting back to the abyssal emptiness of darkness. 

"it is up to you to craft a path for yourself. you picked a theater to bring me here." he pauses, looking at the stage once more. "Why?"

“He is the one who shut me out,” Ender said growling for a second letting that bit of anger slip through. At the mention of this figure being an echo of his power, Ender froze almost and stated at him with wide hazel eyes almost in disbelief. “Fifteen years...I have waited at least fifteen years for any sign of you and now you come to me? Now you want to act like you care? Now you want to show up? When were you when I needed you the most?! I--” He paused and once again pinched the bridge of his nose trying to calm down and focus on things that weren’t going to piss off the one person he had been screaming to the heavens for years over. So instead he focused on trivial things, like how the eyes shifted from dark black to red and part of him wondered if his own would do that one day when he tapped into whatever power he had within him. A sigh escaped him and he opened his own plain hazel eyes and glanced to the stage. “It’s where I wanted to be my whole life. Ever since my mother took me to see my first show when I was younger I dreamed of belonging up there- or any stage really. It’s where I could shed my skin and be someone else. I was--am so tired of being me that the idea of being someone else was ideal to a young child who could do nothing right, it felt like.” There was a pause in his words, the silence filling the theatre as he said, “I think part of me still longs to shed my skin some days and be someone else. It’s freeing to pretend you aren’t yourself even if it is just for a few minutes or hours. Makes you hate yourself a little less.”

"you weren't ready for the truth until now, ender." the bottomless eyes flicker toward you and back to the stage. roger takes a more relaxed stance, more so than you've ever seen him take before. he leans against the bannister and smiles. "but i'm here now and i won't be leaving unless you want me to." 

"you wish to be an actor, a shapeshifter." he turns to face you now, as if he's still looking into the darkest parts of you. "the stage is what you make of it. remember, all the world's a stage."

“I don’t,” Ender confessed looking at the man who was supposed to be an echo of his father’s power. As he said those two words he realized how true it was. “I don’t want you to leave. I wish you didn’t look like _him_ but I don’t want you to leave.” As he spoke he sounded almost like a small child asking his parents not to leave them at a babysitter or a new nanny as they rushed off to go to work. 

His whole life, he went on believing that he never needed a father figure in his life that he was fine with his mother who was a strong independent woman who raised him for a love of theatre and of arts. He never got to participate in father-son activities and he was okay with this. He told himself over and over that he didn’t need to know who his father was, that he didn’t need him to teach him things father’s taught their sons. But now, having a glimpse of him in front of him--

Well he realized how wrong he was and how much he wanted to keep that glimpse near him now. To make up for lost time almost. 

At the mention of being a shapeshifter, an actor, Ender nodded his head and explained, “It’s all I wanted in life. To pretend I wasn’t me for a bit. Roger, the real him, never let me achieve those dreams so I went to school for other things. But this,” his eyes glanced back to the stage with a longing. “This is where my heart lies.” Exhaling he turned back to the figure of his step-father and said, “The world is my stage now. I need to remember that.”

"i won't leave." roger says before he tilts a glance toward you, eyebrow arching up. 

"just as you wish to be a shapeshifter, this is not who i must be either." he begins to drip away, like a waterfall of wine until he is nothing more than a puddle of deep red at your feet. you hear an echo in your mind, a gentle nudge. "go on, maestro, turn me into whoever or whatever you wish me to be and you, too, will have an echo of your father's power."

what do you turn roger into? who or what shape does he take in this new form?

For a second his mind goes to Cole, the boy he was best friend with and the very boy he broke as well. Ender knew it was selfish to think this, to wish the echo of his father’s power to be the boy just so he could see and talk to him again. Sure he was selfish and the past him would have done it in a heartbeat, it just didn’t feel right to have his father’s echo to turn him. His mind then goes to the exact opposite of what he imagined he could make Roger look like. His step-father was tall and silver haired and screamed respect, but in his mind he saw a girl he once talked to at a party. They hit it off immediately, becoming friends and staying beside each other during the whole night, only for her to slip away without a trace and without a way to contact her. He had seen her face a few days later in the news having died from being mugged on her way home. Part of him blamed himself, though he never got her name or her number. He just held onto the bit of sass she threw at him, the way she made him laugh and the way she could boss him around after minutes of meeting her. “Her.” Ender said imagining the girl in his head. Her dark wavy curls, black eyes and petite frame. He didn’t even have a name for her, or if he did he lost it in the dug filled haze that was most of his twenties. He just knew that if she had more time on earth she would have been his other best friend, the only other person to boss him around and make him get his shit together when he needed it most. It was what he needed now. “I chose her.”

"good. now i'll give you my power and we'll kick some ass together." the new form grins and, although she's nameless for now, you think that, eventually, you'll find a suiting name for her. she pushes your shoulder and her dark curls bounce and her dark eyes see straight through you. 

you wake up feel as if you've been pushed from your bed and when your eyes adjust, you realize that you're back in your tent with greyson after a long, treacherous few days in the underworld. but oddly enough, you feel more well rested than you've ever felt before. 

kick some ass together.

it's a thought that races through your mind and you know that you're ready to take this stage by storm, star of the show or not.

[imhereforbvcky]

A Safe Place - Part 2

Summary: Steve Rogers has never been afraid of sacrifice, especially for the ones he loves. This time, when he might really be lost, what sacrifices will you be driven to for love?

Prompt:  “I wish you had chosen me.”

Word Count: 4032

Warnings: angst, mission injury, possible character death

Author’s Note: Well I’m a big fat liar and this took me way longer than expected. Sorry! I was honestly sick for 4 whole weeks. Like, “this medicine should help but if you start coughing blood go to the hospital” sick. So here we are! 2 weeks late. It’s stupid long for a multi-chapter though, so hopefully that makes up for it.

A shaft of light pierced through the dark like a dagger into the dusty crater that imprisoned him. At first, Steve had winced at its sharp glare. It taunted him, hope and fear mingled in one single shaft of bright white sunlight.

Heavy whining machinery lifted away the debris, loosened crumbling concrete to skitter around him. Dust snaked like smoke through the beam of light, darkening it, clouding it.

Eventually, the grinding machines and the growing light brought with it a burst of fresh air. It moved like a breeze through his precarious rubble cavern and caressed his skin.

He’d spent uncountable hours trying not to wonder what regenerating cells would do over a lifetime of being buried alive. When the cool air touched his skin it felt like a stream and he became so overwhelmed with the sensation that his eyes began to water and he laughed. Actually laughed.

The beam still lay heavy and immovable across his leg; he could no longer feel his toes. He kept trying to wiggle them, rotate his ankle, anything to keep the blood moving. He had no idea if it was working.

The numbness, although it scared him, had been a gift. He could sleep again, could dream and escape.

Unfortunately, even blessings are a curse in a hell such as this.

He’d lost all track of time and for a body full of cells like his, cells that regenerate and repair at unnatural pace and vitality, time could be hours or it could be days, or weeks.

That shaft of light, that first taste of air that wasn’t clouded with concrete dust and carnage, brought with them as much uncertainty as they did relief.

Unfettered joy became tempered with fear when the sound of unfamiliar voices reached his ears.

Longing turned sour with dread when he realized the language they spoke was unfamiliar to his ears. Unsure if they were hostile or indifferent, he could anticipate nothing. Just as hope had begun to bloom it crumbled to dust. He was choking on it, dry and bitter on his tongue, filling his nostrils, gritty in his eyes.

He could do nothing but wait.

Wait and focus on a reason to climb out of this whole in the ground, to fight, to live. He needed to remember to hope.

He’d stayed late at the office, nodding firmly as each lingering SHIELD agent slipped out for the night. They returned to their lives and their families.

Steve had his work and he buried himself in it. Anything to avoid his apartment with its perfectly crisp sheets and military-sharp pressed shirts. Its order and emptiness only reminded him, every second, of all he’d lost and how undoubtedly he no longer belonged.

The instant he’d enlisted back in 1942 he’d known he didn’t belong there either, not really. He knew that home was not a luxury he could count on any longer. Hell, he knew it long before the war. He’d lost his family young, had had to strike out on his own, make do, find his own way.

The harsh realities of the average life had taught him that home was not a place, but the people in it. Short of that, it was merely a fragile and ephemeral feeling. He’d lost most of that well before the war. Except for Bucky and the war had taken that too.

Now, he was awake in a world he hardly recognized and nothing and no one felt familiar.

Except for the song now drifting down the hall.

The piano reached his ears in a thin, tinny wave. But that’s exactly how he remembered it anyway, piping through the old speakers of his small box radio way back when. The voice was robust and warm, nonetheless; just how it always was. Ella Fitzgerald.

It called to him, tugged at him like a rope tied right around his chest, and he found himself walking silently, wistfully, down the hall toward the familiar sound.

A soft laugh nearly rushed past his lips when he finally found the source. But he held it back with a smile that tightened his cheeks.

Clearly, like him, you’d thought yourself alone in the building, so late after hours with only a scattered few hall lights still lit. Your phone called out the song as you swayed and hummed along, waiting for the copier.

Steve, always one for rash decisions and quick emotions, was somehow slow to love, cautious and guarded with his heart. But here, in the dim office with an echo of the past soft in his ear, he couldn’t help an immediate fondness from blooming for you. For this stranger who danced and hummed for no one’s pleasure but your own. For the charm of someone who seemed to enjoy the quiet and the classic.

Seemingly entranced, frozen with a smile and an amused tilt of the head, Steve leaned against the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was content to be a mere bystander to your apparent happiness; to let it soothe some ache, some ever unspoken want for such untroubled contentment for himself.

It wasn’t until you snatched up the papers the copier had expelled, and turned with a grandiose twirl in his direction, singing the lines as the tune swooped low and sweet that he realized his mistake.

“’…that music I hear. I get misty, the moment you’re near’—GAH!” you shrieked, throwing the papers as your hand flew to your chest.

He startled, too, at your shout. The thrown papers now drifted to the floor at his feet like giant dancing snowflakes.

“Oh god. ’M sorry!” he fretted, immediately kneeling after your scattered work.

Caught between shock and laughter, you could only stare on, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“I… you uhm…” you stammered, finally reaching for the last few sheets. “I didn’t peg you for a spy, Rogers – er, Captain? Steve? Sorry I don’t think we’ve met. I don’t know what to call you.”

“Please, just Steve,” he blushed. “And I’m an awful spy. Not a spy, at all. Romanoff can vouch for that.”

He was so relieved to hear your gracious laugh, so glad that he hadn’t clouded the levity he’d intruded upon, that he laughed too.

It was soft and polite, almost thin sounding, but only from nerves and nothing at all disingenuous. Lucky for him, he had a warm nature when he wasn’t Captain America. You found “Just Steve” rather endearing.

“Well,” you shrugged with a dismissive smile, “her standards are impossibly high. You managed to sneak up on me, so that’s something, right?”

“I was lucky, you seemed kind of distracted.”

His smile was blinding. Like staring into a fire: warm and bright, mesmerizing if you let yourself linger too long in the glow.

After too long a pause, you finally nodded and picked up your phone. With a flick of your wrist, you flashed the screen toward him in agreement before shoving it in your pocket.

“Can’t resist a sing-along. I love Ella.”

“So do I,” he agreed. “Reminds me of… I don’t know. Something familiar. ’I’m Making Believe’ was all over the radio in ’44.”

He remembers the way your hair swam into his line of sight far before the rest of you passed across the doorway. He remembers the glint in your eye when you leaned half of your body into his office on another late night in a deserted government building. Mostly he remembers the laughter in your voice.

It was a sound he could always detect. He heard it when you popped in like this; whenever you answered his calls. Hell, he could even hear it in his head when you texted.

“Busy or bored?” you asked with only the dim yellow glow of his desk lamp to light your features.

The smirk passed his lips before he spoke. “Bit of both.”

“Mmm busywork to cure the boredom, I know that trick well,” you hummed, gliding into the room. “I think you and I could probably hold our own workaholics anonymous meeting.”

He laughed and agreed, quietly enjoying your smiles.

“We could uh… hold the inaugural meeting tonight if you wanted?”

Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest at your offer. His eyes danced over the hopeful little smile curling your lips, up to the nervous lift of your eyebrows. He wanted to memorize every line of your face, every bright hope and warm thought that beamed up at him through it.

“There’s a piano bar I go to sometimes after a late night,” you explained. “It’s kind of a hole in the wall. Dark, and a little dingy, but the bartender’s a total whiskey geek, can mix a damn good drink. And the music is out of this world.”

“It sounds…” he struggled for the right word. ‘Perfect’ came to mind… It sounded exactly like the kind of place he’d have found himself with Peggy during the war, or sliding into on his own when Bucky had run off with a girl, before. Out of the way, familiar, warm. All things Steve craved and needed in his life, now when it seemed devoid of any of them.

He must have been quiet too long, drifted too far. You were ducking out of the room now, with a gracious smile and a slight heat rising in your cheeks.

“Well… No pressure. Think I’ll head over for a drink, see who’s playing tonight,” you shrugged, brushing off the question still hanging in the air. “I’ll um… I’ll hang out in the lobby a few minutes if you want to join me. But either way, you should check it out sometime. Really, you’d love it.”

“You don’t have to wait,” he blurted as he rose to his feet. They were the first words that came to him but, damn it, did he regret them the second they left his tongue.

“Oh,” you nodded, glancing down at your feet for a quick moment to compose yourself. “Okay. No worries.” A less than full smile. “I’ll see you on Monday, then.”

“No, no!” Steve pled, rounding his desk in three long strides, “I meant, I’d love to go. Don’t wait in the lobby, I’ll come with you. Now.”

“Oh!” you laughed, and god, he was relieved to hear that sound in your voice again, see it in your eyes. “You really make a girl work for it, eh?” you joked, playfully leaning your shoulder into his as you walked side by side toward the elevators.

He laughed, looking at his feet as he shook his head. “Sorry.” The elevator chimed its arrival. “You um, caught me by surprise, I guess.”

“Mmm, I do love a good surprise.” You leaned back against the wall of the elevator.

“Yeah?” he asked, “Could I--?”

Once again he stopped mid-sentence, shaking his head. ‘Could I ask you to dance? Could I kiss you? Could I take you out sometime?’ All of them seemed like viable options, all of them battled with his nature. Any of them would be surprising for him.

He laughed, considering how monumentally unprepared he was for modern romance, and thanking whatever god would listen that you had been braver.

He watched you tilt your head, a smile turning into a confused little laugh. It was just a light huff of a breath, a flash of white teeth and soft lips curling, but it was enough. He made up his mind. He could be braver, too.

Embracing contradiction, Steve stepped closer. With one hand sliding over the side of your neck he let go of the slow path, the traditional, and embraced the surprise of something new.

He kissed you gently, just a soft press of lips, warm and inviting. He was somehow soft and firm all at once, holding you steady but easing gently against you. New and familiar, warm and fresh. He was nervous but content all at once.

He pulled back from you, still gently cupping your neck, thumb rubbing over the line of your jaw. 

While your hands had made the lightest fists in the front of his dark, crisp button-up, holding him against you. Something between a sigh and a chuckle passed your tingling lips. Steve didn’t think he’d ever tire of that sound.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

His long dark lashes blinked reluctantly open.

Steve slowly blinked away the dry scratchy dust from his eyes. It wasn’t your flushed lips or laughing voice that greeted him, though. The sun had gone and all he could see was a cloud of dust and the removal team in their thick equipment inching ever closer but attempting neither to understand him nor speak to him.

As the day had worn on and the debris was slowly lifted away, the crew, hidden beneath hard hats and ventilation masks, obscured by the darkness and the blinding glare of the work lights, finally stopped. The nearest ones shouted muffled and unfamiliar cries to those above.

The dust had settled on them too, here in this subterranean hell. He wondered if the firearms clipped to their hips would still fire correctly coated with this dust. He tried not to think about why the hell a construction evac crew needed firearms.

Finally down to the beam pinning him down, they paused, gathered around him, pointing and arguing. He couldn’t understand a word.

“Just do it.” He didn’t expect them to listen, even if they understood. But he was ready for this nightmare to end, one way or another.

It had been a very long time since he’d felt this vulnerable. There was only one thought on his mind, one person he’d held on for, and sitting here crushed under this steel, buried in concrete, doing nothing, brought you and your laugh and your lazy mornings and your out-dated taste in music no closer.

There was only one way out. Only one way to hell or to home.

“Do it!” he shouted. Again they paused and looked to the leader of the removal operation who gave a quick nod and began climbing part way up the cavern.

“It’s going to hurt,” one of them warned in a thick accent before climbing away from the danger.

He knew this already. But he swallowed and nodded anyway, bracing for the pain.

As the beam lifted away and he began to shift and shuffle back with his elbows he felt nothing but relief. So much that he began to laugh again, desperate and wild.

But it wasn’t long before the blood began to flow through his legs, and with it, sensation returned. He began to feel again. The laughter turned to curses in an instant. He could scarcely remember a time he’d experienced this much pain.

He cried out, there in the wreckage, surrounded by enemies. He couldn’t stop it. It ripped up his throat as the agony poured from every cell.

Broken. He felt completely exhausted, drained, and very simply broken.

The body – even his enhanced one – was not meant to withstand such trauma, to sustain such exhaustion. A heavy black daze swam at the edges of his brain and pushed at the corners of his vision when he heard a swift succession of pops. Gunfire.

The extraction leader, the one who’d climbed to high ground, stood over the rim firing down into the pit.

At first Steve tried to make himself small, covered his head and neck. He knew he had to move when he heard the wet squish of bullets breaking skin and the groan-shuffle-thud of bodies sinking to the ground around him.

Completely devoid of energy, he panted heavily as he tried to crawl away. The shooter clambered down toward him through the rubble.  

The pain shot through him like a knife, slicing from his waist straight down to his toes the instant he tried to rise to his feet. A gasping sob burst from his chest with more force than he thought he had left anymore.

“It’s okay, I’m here!” the shooter called and he froze.

His heart stuttered in his chest, just like it had done in his office all that time ago, when he was happy and safe and you were beautiful and new but familiar all at once. He’d been dreaming of that voice, remembering it to stay alive and now he didn’t dare believe it was anything more than a phantom.

“Don’t,” he breathed, horse and tired, collapsing back to the ground. He made tight fists in the dirt as the pain pressed the darkness in closer around him.

“’M right here,” the voice promised with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He blinked up at the worker, helmet and mask, covered in dust. A cloud of it billowed at the shooter’s rapid movement, swallowing them both together.

Steve still wasn’t sure if he could trust his own senses. Hell, they were the very words he’d been replaying in his head again and again. An early morning, warm down blankets, soft skin, and whispered comfort. ‘I’m here. ‘M right here.’

“Jesus, Steve.”

All at once, he could hear everything. He knew it was you because he could hear the grief in the little quiver of your voice, and the anger in the hiss on the ‘s’ of his name. It had to be you.

The knot in his throat gave way. Half a sob, half a laugh and his hands wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close. So close, but it would never be near enough. Not anymore.  Not after this.

Your own hands dug into his filthy blue suit with equal fervor. You couldn’t stop grasping at him. Your hands moved quickly from his shoulders, down his arms, holding his hands, then up to cup his face, gripping in his tangled, dusty hair. It was like the more your touched him, the more real he felt. He was alive, he was in your arms, and you would bring him home.

“What the hell were you thinking, huh?” you cried against his hair when he finally burrowed into your shoulder in exhausted relief. “Fucking hell, Steve! You didn’t come back and they said… I thought…”

The walkie-talkie clipped to your shoulder burst to life and you cursed under your breath. This wasn’t the time to break down, to cry and to comfort. Not yet. This was a rescue. It was a mission.

“We gotta move,” you urged after swallowing your fear and your anger and your worry with a deep shivering breath.

“Move now?” Steve groaned as you stooped under his arm, hauling him to his feet. “Are you alone?” He winced through the demand, but with your hand around his waist, and half of his weight leaning over you, he stood.

“Well, no I let those goons do the heavy lifting,” you winked, nodding toward a couple of the bodies lying a few feet away, covered in concrete dust and blood. “But I’m pretty sure they wanted to take you hostage, so I couldn’t really let them finish the job.”

“Where’s your back-up?” he scowled. “What if there had been more? What if one of them…?”

“Yeah, I mean, what if a building fell on top of me?” you peaked an eyebrow before giving as much of a shrug as you could manage under Steve’s massive weight. “No backup. The Agency isn’t quite as loyal as the Avengers. Collateral damage is an inevitability. Lucky for you, I love you too much to let you become another number in a mission report.”

As you spoke, the pair of you worked your way out of the hole where the building used to be. Straining for every step, grunting with the weight you supported, together you made steady progress out of the darkness of the cavern.

“So when you’re out on an assignment,” he huffed, hauling his waist over the rim of the debris and onto soft, brown earth. “And I’m at home telling myself, ‘Don’t worry. No man left behind; it’ll be fine,’ and all that shit…”

You shook your head, smiling as you panted heavily. Why did you have to pick the biggest of the selfless soldiers for your boyfriend?

“That’s the Marines, handsome,” you laughed. “CIA’s more about cost-benefit analysis. S’why they’ve got so many analysts.”

He let his back fall to the ground, catching his breath, and letting you catch yours. His cheek fell to the still sun-warmed dirt as he rolled his head to watch you chuckle at your own joke. The sound was sweeter than he’d remembered it.

“This might not be the best time to discuss it,” he panted. Your eyes were closed, conserving energy, but your brows rose, interested. “But I think you should look for a new job.”

You laughed again. This one erupted from you with surprise and a heavy taste of bitterness. He wanted so badly to reach over and brush the sweeping lashes dusting your round, smiling cheeks.

“Yeah, about that. Know anybody who’s hiring?” You curled to your feet. You’d gotten Steve out of the debris but not yet to safety. This was still hostile territory. “I sort of threatened the Director of Covert Operations to get here.”

“You what?!”

“I wish you had chosen me,” you shrugged, drawing his weight over your shoulders again. “Y’know. For your mission? Your team? Maybe neither of us would be here right now and I’d still have a job.”

He shook his head and a small breath of a laugh managed past his burning lungs. “Next time.”

You tried to still the shudder in your chest at that thought, the urge to cry, to plead with him that no, it was enough. He’d done enough. No more.

You hated seeing him come home beat up, but this was… this was something else. He hadn’t come home at all. It scared the shit out of you.

“They’re okay, you know. Your team.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. This wasn’t the time. Really, deep down, you knew he could never give it up, this life. Would never. You could either support him; love him and his stupid reckless bravery. Or you could let him go. Your very presence here evidenced the latter was never going to be an option. Not while it was up to you.

“All of ‘em?” he asked through shallow huffs, exhausted from even the little progress you were making toward the tree line.

You nodded. “Well you know Clint, but overall no worse for the wear.”

A deep sigh left his chest and you felt it everywhere. The tension across his shoulders, straining up his spine, stretched over your own frame seemed to ease just a little as you helped him over a downed tree. Relief.

“Sam’s got a bird on the other side of that ridge,” you nodded toward the hill a quarter mile ahead. “He’s gonna get us out of here. ‘N we’ll get you fixed up.”

The voice at the back of your mind complained, wanted to riot. That part of you that forgot pride and resented duty hated how the world used Captain America and the others as a shield for the chaos of their own making. They let him break himself again and again.

Yeah, someone would fix him up. Just in time to send him marching right back out. The world didn’t see ‘just Steve,’ they saw a warrior.

But sometimes Steve surprised you. Sometimes he needed you more than the world thought they needed him.

“Then we’ll sleep in,” he sighed, pausing to look up at the hill that stood between him and all the bright lazy mornings he’d come to love. All the soft tinny music, all the sweet slow kisses, all the feather light strokes of fingertips over sun-warmed skin, all the whispered words. Safety. Comfort. Home. They all lay just over that ridge.

He pressed his lips to the side of your head, nose crinkling up with the weight. Long dark eyelashes, covered in concrete dust caked solid with hours of sweat and pain, flitted closed. With a thick, wet rasp, he whispered into your hair. “For a long while.”

I’ll reblog with tags shortly

[macbookpro-hard-drive]

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader] pt.3

did you know that tumblr no longer has those lil.. lines that i liked to separate my notes from my fic with? i didnt. until now. unbelievable.

SO NOW I HAVE TO SUPPLY MY OWN and hopefully this is fine

anyway. ive been... dead for a while. summer destroyed all motivation to do Anything, but ive been forcing myself to write on and off and this part feels... shorter than it should be, but

anyway! i am alive! i have plans! i have things to write! some of them are never going to be on this blog bc theyre original works, but im always open to talk abt them skdfhdsfh

warnings: uhhhhhhh vague manipulation, and i think thats it? just general. squip. yea.

         The last time you had seen Michael Mell as a friend had been the beginning of sophomore year. He and Jeremy sat on either side of you in his basement, clutching controllers and halfheartedly playing video games. Soda went untouched and unopened, snacks left alone, and too many times had Jeremy lost on games he knew like the back of his hand. The air had been stiff and uncomfortable, and the feeling had seeped into your nerves and bones to make your stomach turn at the thought of staying longer. Jeremy wasn’t quite there, and Michael was trying too hard to be extra present to make up for it. He became doting on the two of you - quick to refill a snack bowl that had barely been touched with Jeremy following him out of the basement. That was when you found your phone and called your parents, asking if they could come pick you up - bullshitting some excuse about how you felt sick. When Michael came down, he saw you packing up your things with a half-assed apology and a shitty acting job before you tore up the stairs and nearly rammed into Jeremy in the process. Your chest had tightened as you pushed past him with a quick apology and went to wait on the front steps outside for your mom to come get you.

          That had been the beginning of the end. After that day, Jeremy had slowly stopped talking to you almost completely. Michael had tried to patch things up, to keep things going, and then he just stopped abruptly. To make things worse, you had broken down at school a few weeks after everything went silent, because you’d been alone. You wiped at your face roughly with the sleeve of your hoodie, and left the bathroom. Barely seconds after you had turned the corner to head to class, you ran straight into him - headphones on and head down - only for his gaze to find yours the moment you stumbled back. He opened his mouth to speak, and you stumbled through a rough, shitty apology before you pushed past him and onward to your class. And then you avoided him purposefully, not wanting to address that little moment of weakness you had.

          And now you were sitting in front of him, eyes red and tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggled to find your voice. Your back pressed into cold metal, the lockers clanging behind you as you pulled away and tried to say something, anything to explain yourself. But Michael just stared at you, uncertain about what to say to you. Your legs were like stone, almost as if something was keeping you from darting away, from finding a safer place to land and cry and get over the tears forced from your body.

          “[y/n]?” Michael finally said, still staring at you. The lights overhead gleamed off his glasses and headphones as he pulled them down and around his neck, music loud enough for you to hear. He gave you a quick once-over, his attention now fully on you. “You okay?”

          You went to nod only for another sob to overtake you instead. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” you admitted after a moment, voice shaking and broken. And it was sort-of true.

          “Are you sure?” He said, “hey, I, uh, I know I sorta stopped talking to you and that was kinda shitty but... I’m still here if you need someone to talk to, alright?” After a moment, he tacked on another thought, “do you need a ride home?”

         Immediately, you didn’t want to say yes. It didn’t feel right to. But you’re already nodding before you can debate anything further. “Yeah,” you said slowly at first, reaching up and wiping at your eyes. Realization hit you quick. Your bag. “Shit.”

         “What’s wrong?”

         “I, uh, kinda left my bag in the auditorium.” You hesitated to step away - you didn’t really want to go back and make an excuse to leave, to let anyone see you with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Michael... can you-”

         “On it,” he gave you a small, two-finger salute, “I’ll be back in a sec!”

         As Michael took off down the hallway, you felt a pit develop in your stomach while he disappeared around the corner. Nothing felt right. You looked around for a moment, acutely aware of how silent everything had gone. When your SQUIP materialized in front of you, you avoided its gaze as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself for a moment. The world felt a little colder, a little dimmer, and everything was off. The sound of Michael’s approaching footsteps minutes later played the steady beat for your incoming guilt-induced breakdown, and yet the boy smiled at you - as if nothing was wrong. Maybe that was because it looked like nothing was wrong. The strap of your bag was tossed over his shoulder, bouncing against his own backpack, and yet he looked at you like you were still friends.

        “Thanks,” you finally said as you reached for your bag.

        Michael stepped back, “I’ve got it,” he said with a smile, “don’t worry.”

       You let your arm fall back to your side, only to then shove your hands into your pockets. “Thanks,” you said, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

       The walk to Michael’s car was mostly quiet, with concerned glances thrown your way every now and then - that, when you caught then, were met with insecure smiles at the situation he’d been pulled into. Which.... frankly, threw you off a bit. Michael had always been the one who was better with all this feelings shit - you and Jeremy had the unhealthy habit of bottling everything up. And now Michael walked in step with you, still warm as ever - and still wearing that damn red hoodie you swore he showered in, but it still made you smile because of course Michael still took good care of it. When you hesitated for half a step upon seeing his P.T. Cruiser, he looked back at you before you shot him an uneasy smile and continued towards the passenger side. One of his moms must have given it to him - whether for his birthday or as a gift for passing his driver’s test, you weren’t sure. But the seats were still well-worn, a Pac-Man sticker stuck on the head-rest of the driver’s seat that Michael had stuck there when bored out of his mind. It was worn with age, like you’d expect it to be, but you suppressed a small smile at the fact it was still there.

      If the walk to Michael’s car had been quiet (with the occasional snippit of Michael saying something about how he still feels bad about what happened between the three of you, or about how he’s kinda sorry about the walk to the back of the parking lot) then the ride to your house was dead silent. Music flooded through the car speakers, Michael’s phone resting in your lap due to him pushing it in your direction and telling you to play whatever you want, and his attention was fully on the road - the sound of his phone’s GPS spitting out directions every so often to guide him. You watched out the window, a small sense of dread resting in your stomach the entire way, and for some reason... you felt sick.

      When the car started to roll to a stop, Michael reached up and turned the music down. “Hey, uh, you still have my number, right?”

      You blinked at him for a moment, before pulling out your phone. “I, uh, think so?” You opened your contacts, flipping through them, “I don’t think I deleted it or anything-”

      “Good,” he smiled at you, “if you ever wanna hang out, I’m, uh, pretty free since Jeremy’s busy with this whole.. play... thing.” He paused for a moment, only to follow it up quickly with “I mean if you aren’t doing anything, since - I dunno, you aren’t apart of the cast so-”

      “Okay,” you cut him off, “yeah, sure - I’m only painting the set for it, so... I’ll probably try to do that during lunch.”

      “I, uh,” he began, nodding towards your jacket, “I like your pin. Have you ever played the old shit?” When you shook your head, he was filled with excitement. “Dude. You have to come over then. I’ve got the classic Zelda stuff if you wanna play.”

      Running a hand through your hair, you just sort-of nodded in response as you opened the car door, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, Michael.”

      You closed the car door, taking a few steps back as he pulled off and drove away, before you turned and head up to your house - pausing to notice your parent’s cars were missing. Right. Letting your bag fall down to your elbow, you began to fish through it to find your keys tucked away in the bottom of your bag, and you nearly sent the contents of your bag spilling when you went to pull it back to your shoulder. But with lightning reflexes that weren’t your own, you managed to snap into action and pull it shut before anything could spill - and when you looked up, your SQUIP was standing before you.

      Huh. “... Thank you?” You zipped your bag back up, letting yourself into your house.

      “You should stick to hanging out with Michael,” your SQUIP said, watching you head into your bedroom

      Dropping your backpack onto your bed, you shrugged at the idea as you began to search for your homework. “I mean, sure, he’s still a cool guy-”

      “Michael is close to Jeremy,” it said, as if the fact wasn’t obvious, “therefore, if you get closer to Michael, you’ll get closer to Jeremy.”

      You stopped. “Isn’t that using Michael?”

      “You were friends with him before. It’s rekindling your friendship that just so happens to mean you’ll rekindle something with Jeremy.” It said, “you aren’t manipulating him.”

      You shook your head, setting one binder down and searching for another. “I don’t really like this,” you said, “I don’t want do hurt Michael or anything-”

      “Why would you be hurting him by being friends with him?”

      Thinking it over, you finally nod a little. “... I guess you’re right,” you looked down at the textbook in your hands. “It just feels wrong-”

      “Don’t feel, [y/n],” it stepped beside you, turning your head to meet it’s steely gaze. “Just listen. I’m here to help you.”

      Reluctantly, you nod. “... Right.”

      So you did. The next day, Rich fell into step beside you - inviting you to stop acting like a loner and to sit with him and Jake and the rest of his friends. You debated taking him up on the offer for a moment, only to spot Michael sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria. You declined immediately, not looking back as you crossed the room to join Michael. That became your routine - sliding into a seat near Michael, talking about video games and whatnot, and occasionally letting the topic slip to Jeremy as Michael had the habit of occasionally venting about the boy.

       “I mean,” he started one day, pointing a fork in your direction, “you remember how he is. He’s just... so in love with her,” he shook his head, “and, I mean, yeah, it’s Christine, but he could, y’know... not abandon me every day.”

      You nodded, “I’m sure he’s just blinded by his crush, Michael.”

      He nodded, stabbing into his burrito bowl, “I know...” He trailed off, looking away for a moment, “I just... he’s excited about this and - and that’s great! He’s actually sort-of talking to Christine!” He smiled back at you, “every time he talks about her, he gets that stupid look on his face. He practically has heart eyes, [y/n].” He paused for half a beat, “but... y’know, I can’t blame him. He keeps talking about how she’s been helping him with his lines, and that she’s so passionate about theatre...”

      You couldn’t help but smile a little at that. From your limited interactions with Christine, she seemed to be a complete sweetheart. No wonder Jeremy liked her.

      “In time, he’ll like you more.” It nudged it’s way in between your thoughts, “as long as you do what I tell you to. I’ve got a plan-”

      Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you busied yourself with your lunch. “Sure, buddy.”

      The stern silence that responded to your tone spoke volumes. But like a knife through butter, Michael’s voice washed away the slight tension you’d begun to feel: “hey, do you still draw?”

      You perked up at the question, turning your full attention back to Michael, answering with a far-too chipper “yes!” You immediately forced yourself to calm down, “yeah, I, uh, I still do. My art’s changed a lot, though,” you kind-of smiled, “I have a, uh, pretty decent following online now. I’m just glad I get to do what I love.”

      Snagging his phone from his pocket, Michael went silent for a moment as he opened up his tumblr app. “There’s this artist that Jeremy and I discovered - they seem really fucking cool, dude, and they seem like someone you’d like-”

      And then you were met with your own artwork, tagged with your online alias, and you had to resist the urge to immediately spill that he’d found you online after you remade your account. You could feel your SQUIP’s fingers gripping your shoulder, and you bit your tongue as you nodded, giving some half-hearted answer about how they seem cool, sure, before wondering why it had stopped you from saying anything.

      You didn’t address it until later. Halfway through your homework, you looked up and pushed yourself away from your desk. “Hey.” You spoke aloud. 

      Within seconds, your SQUIP proceeded to materialize in front of you. “You’re speaking aloud-”

      “I know,” you said with a hand wave, “my parents are still out. What was up with that earlier?”

      “You shouldn’t go around saying things-”

      “But it’s Michael,” you refuted, “I trust him. Besides - wouldn’t telling him that get me closer to Jeremy?”

      It’s cold gaze made you shrink under pressure. “I have a plan. [y/n]. If you want to get Jeremy, you have to obey.”

      “What about what I want?” You forced yourself to stand your ground, staring at the figure before you, “what if I want to do things differently?”

      “You bought me for a reason.” It crossed its arms, watching you, “this is what you want, though. That’s why I’m here: to help you get what you want. And what you want is Jeremy. I’m going to help you get Jeremy, but I can’t do that if you don’t trust me, [y/n].”

      Pressing your lips together, you mustered up a weak nod. Right. “Sorry,” you finally said, “I just - I’m scared it’s not going to work.”

       “It will.” 

        When Michael invited you over the next day, you were more than happy to take him up on the offer. He began to reason it as well, Jeremy’s at play practice, before he ended up dropping the facade and admitting he still kind-of missed you and that it’d been a while since he’d kicked your ass at video games (and, fuck, the glimmer in his eyes when he said that was enough to make you agree, and you realized in that moment just how much you actually missed Michael). So he drove you to his house, letting you take complete control of the music, and then he left you in the basement to find any games you’d be interested in while he grabbed some snacks from the kitchen.

       While the two of you played, you talked idly when the situation would allow it. About anything. About everything. About trips Michael had taken with his moms, about his and Jeremy’s brand new Halloween tradition of watching horror movies - usually the shittier ones - and gorging on candy, about how your parents always seemed so busy (and almost immediately Michael offered up his house for whenever you didn’t want to be alone, and you melted a little at the offer). The entire time, the room felt too quiet, even among the conversation and the music of each game. At first, you thought it was because Jeremy was missing. Things didn’t feel right without him. But it hit you, right as you were laughing at something Michael said.

       “Hey!” Michael brightened up at his idea, “you should join us.” When you looked over, slightly confused, he continued, “the, uh, Halloween thing? You should join our marathon.” 

       You faltered for a moment, looking down at your controller. Your voice isn’t your own as you speak, saying some sort of confirmation that felt too distant for it to be you. The guilt built within you, as you pushed yourself to hide the feeling while turning your attention back to the game, back to beating Michael this round. But the thought lingered.

       You were using Michael Mell.